#if this fic already exists pls link it to me

[oldmanffucker]

[thisblogwasmadeforlurkin]

Nancy, Robin, and Eddie running towards Steve in the Upside Down as he’s struggling against the bats. A figure appears before they get there and they put on a burst of speed, thinking it’s something worse, but then whoever it is starts taking out the bats and helps Steve up. They reach the two and find Billy fussing over Steve’s wounds and calling him an idiot and doesn’t the king of Hawkins know none of that matters here and what the fuck was he thinking??

Steve’s speechless.

[yllwcrtns]

so apparently fate got cancelled. which kinda surprised me since they actually survived long enough to see a second season, something that doesn’t happen like ever but tbh i don’t care that much. but besties can someone who actually knows how to write decent fan fiction write one about how you think stellatrix would have gotten together in canon. you don’t need to write an actual season just the stellatrix parts pls. i will love you forever. if you can’t write it feel free to slide in my inbox and tell me your own ideas. all are welcome.

[diseasedkillerpuppy]

for the love of god someone write a reverse verse fic w angel dean and hunter cas and instead of just making sam another angel for kicks... make. him. RUBY.

[chokchokk]

Can I request a San x Female Reader where It's her first time having sex and first time having an orgasmn. So San makes her squirt over and over before fuckin her. But at the end she notices blood and freaks out so he comforts her? Very smutty and fluffy please?

-AA

Im too embarrassed

dearest AA, “very smutty”, “very fluffy” and “too embarrassed” don’t co-exist in my universe, so i hope with this fic i could get some of your shame (?) away, babes <33 indulge in your desires and don’t hesitate to revisit me anytime !!! thank you for being my first requester xoxo

ʟᴇᴛ ɪᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʀᴜᴇ! | choi san x fem!reader

“Don't go around calling me baby right now, or I'll turn like the San in your dream.”

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : Your boyfriend is a wet dream, but this only goes so far, when your real dream leaves you confused and most importantly, curious. San is more than happy to help.

“How does an orgasm feel like, Sannie?”

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : fluff (slice of life-ish), smut

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 10k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : 1st time, sex with communication, first orgasm, foreplay, explicit consent, fingering, squirting, protected (!) penetrative sex, bleeding, after-care; san is a great boyfriend, san has a big dick, that is actually important to the plot, established relationship, living together, a lot of sweet pet-names, teasing, domestic humour

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : LMAO i’ll be honest i got carried away with the build-up (pls know this abt me; i’m a WHORE for build-up (sorry not sorry)) but if you want to jump to the spicy part immediately, go find the second border, the smut will start there!! enjoy in any way you want !!! <33 feedback would be greatly appreciated xoxo

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“Good night, Y/N. Dream of me~”, your boyfriend lulls, as you’re cuddled into his breast, San’s sturdy arm cushioning your body from below, stroking your head that’s under his. He just finished talking about his lucid dreaming recently, fascinated that he can remember more details now, but you interrupted his talking, when he iterated a fight to you where he got his nose bleeding. 

“I don’t have to dream of you when you’re the dream already, Sannie,” you whisper, and with a giggle, he kisses your forehead. San has warned you about calling him ‘dream boyfriend’ multiple times, since he’s aways got, quote, “things to improve on”, but since it’s not dream husband yet, you’re left with no other description. 

“Ohh, sugarplum,” he coos and and pushes your face deeper into the crook of his neck, “don’t say that.”

San is a special case in every which way; in the way he’s this buff guy with guns for arms that he uses to keep you warm when you sleep — in the way San is has the energy of a bull that he stashes away to sing his girlfriend a lullaby — in the way that the Choi San who has dated so many women in his past and hooked up with them (with no ill feelings in the present, of course) has settled down with you, Y/N, a woman with no prior experience other than the media she has consumed.

So you keep telling it yourself in secret. San is, and will forever be, a dream boyfriend. He’s as good to you as you are seemingly to him, but course the topic of sex, at least the lack thereof, crosses you two’s conversations from time to time. 

It’s not like you had tried to save yourself for something, really not. It just… didn’t sound appealing to you, ever. You’ve shared to San that you don’t even masturbate that often, since you’ve never been able to get a satisfactory end— an orgasm— out of it. And while other men would laugh about such a thing, San has shown you nothing but understanding and support.

When you feel sorry for not being able to meet his sexual needs, he tells you he’s happy enough that you feel comfortable to share your discomforts with you. There is not one cell of his body that would mutate and judge you, San is fully devoted to your well-being.

What you forget sometimes is that while San is your first boyfriend, it’s your first time being a girlfriend, too. So being sorry for San is one thing, but wanting to love San more is another. At least you realised that this morning, when you woke up from your first ever wet dream.

You have been able to just ‘shake it off’ during the day and not think about it, but after San, being your soulmate he is, came up with the topic of “lucid dreaming”, and you could barely listen to his wild stories because of how distracted you were.

Maybe that’s why San thought you were tired and cuddled you to slumber so soon. Him cuddling you and getting your head under his chin is you two’s usual sleeping position, but well, huh… You’re not tired, not at all.

“I mean it,” you choke out, San humming, touched by your compliment, but of course he doesn’t know that by saying he’s a dream,you’re also referencing to how his hands were touching your private areas all around, his mouth in places that it’s never been in before in real life. ‘Tastes so good…’

“I love you so much, Y/N,” San exhales delightfully, fed by your fuzzy feelings, still caressing your head with gentle fingers, “but you know that I want you to hold me accountable.”

“Saaannie,” you murmur, your breath turning into a hot patch on his shirt, “just take it as it is.”

San notices your slightly agitated tone and chuckles, kissing your forehead again. “Y/N, my sugar-pie, what’s bothering you?” There has been no doubt in you that San wouldn’t catch on that you’re being weird, and though you’re really glad he did, it, for some reason, doesn’t make the topic any more easier. 

“It’s—“, you begin to stammer, and with your struggle comes San’s immediate help. He shuffles back a little bit so he can take an analytical look at you, all blushed and worked up over a dream you can’t even remember the half of. San’s eyes are droopy, and while right now, it’s because he’s tired, in your dream, it was because he wanted to ‘eat you up…’

“It’s too embarrassing to explain.”

San gets the arm away from below and leans his head against his hand, propping himself up. “Embarrassing?”, he asks and pouts with a slight smile, his dimples digging deep into his cheeks. “Is it an embarrassing matter or just you who’s soooo easy to embarrass, huh?”, San grins and taps your nose one time with his finger to loosen you up, looking you straight in the eyes to give you all his attention. He’s showing to you that you, dearest, could never be embarrassing to him. Everything you do, he’ll take serious and anything you say, San will listen to it, as he’s shown you over and over again, reaffirming it to you every day and night. 

‘I’m going to show you my love, all of it.’

San sees you licking your lips and putting your words together in your overwhelmed brain. You’re not nervous of how San will react, that is for sure, it’s just that… Where do you start? ‘Hey, boyfriend, I think I want to have sex with you?’ That does get the message across, but the words have to leave your mouth first. 

It’s hard. You don’t think you’ve ever said the word, ‘sex’ in the context of… actually having it, let alone desiring it. San watches you spiral— starting to inhale, but then losing your words— and strokes over your head, humming “Just start with the basic outline—“

“I had sex with you in my dream.”

San stops stroking your head for a hot second and you two are just looking into each other’s eyes. San notices now how red you have become, how flushed you look, what a cute girlfriend you are for being embarrassed about this and shit, how lucky he is that you’re his and not anybody else’s girlfriend who you are so adorable playing with your hair right after you just dropped the “s-bomb” on him.

You don’t know what’s worse: Him, waiting for you to continue your talking before he can react to your … attention-grabbing introductory sentence, or you, not having anything to follow up. He probably expects you to tell your dream, but— but not in front of San himself, no! You’re quiet and continue to be, until he takes it upon himself to break the silence.

“… Did you wake up?”

Huh?

“What? Of course I woke up, I’m here now.”

“No, sweetie,” San wheezes softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, while you finally let your eyes stray away (his gaze is unbearable), “I’m asking whether you got to see the end of it.”

“The—“, you parrot him, and while you do San smiles sheepishly, apparently finding you so endearing while you are in mutilation, a foreign warmth growing in your stomach, “— end?”

“I just don’t want to scare you, Y/N,” San hums and twirls your hair around on his finger. “This is me asking where your head is in this situation.”

You blink and San pushes his lips out to indicate that he’s waiting for an answer, or at least something to give him to know if you’re in need of consolation or advice. “Uhm,” you inhale, “I… saw almost everything, I guess.”

His reaction could mean a lot. The dimple in his cheek getting deeper, his nose crunch, him sucking in his lip — it could mean a lot, but also so little.

“Almost everything,” San re-confirms, you know that this description is still very vague. 

Gathering your shards of confidence, you murmur, “I mean… We saw each other naked often, so I think that’s why my brain could— do that, but when it came to that, it… You know. It surprised me.”

“That,” San repeats and by now, he definitely understands the superficial parts of your dream, but you have yet to drop any details. Was the dream a good one? Or well, was he good?

As expected, he wouldn’t dare to ask you that right now, looking at how you’re stammering awkwardly. You can still read it in his eyes though; his curiosity is asking you whether your dream has changed your attitude about sex, let it be for the better or worse. 

You know San is going to show understanding regardless, right?

Yes, absolutely right.

“Y/N, sugar, we can talk about this tomorrow or any other day you like. I’ll keep it in mind, if that’s what you want.” 

Maybe you should say something before San thinks the dream has made you negatively speechless. Well, it did make you speechless the whole day, but now, you’re almost bursting with the things you want to say, like they’re brewing inside you but not getting flavourful yet.

“No, Sannie,” you whine and put your hand on your eyes to hide yourself from his way-too sincere eyes. This isn’t how people do it in the movies or in the books. They usually just… get it on, no? Like they eat each other up, like it’s a necessity for survival, like eating to meet hunger, like quenching your thirst. You don’t know if this is a feeling like that. Whether the uncomfortable warmth inside you is truly the embarrassment but rather the reaction of your memories. ‘Let yourself be all over me.’

“Yes, sweetie,” San croons, removing his hand from your head to leave you by yourself even more, your palms resting on your eye sockets.

You love him. You’ve never doubted this, and you’re not doubting it now. From the moment he confessed his love to you, you having to get used to the idea of being in a relationship to now, almost a year later. You’ve mentioned it to him haphazardly already, but you’ve done everything except have sex. It had been San’s idea to ease you into the twosome-ness of it all; ‘let’s be each other’s person’. He said that in your dream, too, and finally you understood it.

You remember your long-lived confusion before today too well. San was your person as you were his, him with his own set of needs and expectations, you with your own — but weren’t they contradictory? San needed the sex, didn’t he? Like… sexual needs? 

No, “sex isn’t a need”, San explained to you back then, “it’s a way!“

You tried to bring up the whole concept of orgasming being healthy to him, but he continued with “to me,” and you are reciting these words in your head as you try to think of something good to say, “sex is just one of many ways to love you, Y/N.”

So, truth be told, despite having a virgin girlfriend, he orgasms a healthy amount still. Sometimes San does it while you’re sleeping next to him, sometimes he feels like he can’t resist to look at your peaceful, tranquil, breathtaking face and does it in the bathroom, but essentially, he is not having sex, just getting rid of his ‘bodily mishaps’.

While you thought of sex as this strange way to get rid of stress, San thought of it as something way more, but he wouldn’t try to convince you of it, if you didn’t give him your “okay” to talk about it at all.

But here you are. Okay. You’re finally ready. Or maybe you’re not, but you’re ready to try, try with San, try San. He’ll be your person, get to know where you like to be touched, get to know where your sweet spots are and you will hopefully do just the same— touch, no, lick, no, touch, lick and suck everywhere he wants, pour your yourself over him. You’ve wanted to find out how to do that since you’ve dreamt of it since last night, processing the brain-sensation it has left you with for the whole day.

“Do you think you want to tell me about your dream first?“ 

“Can you kiss me?”

“H- huh?”

You get your hands from your eyes and your vision is too blurry to precisely get the picture of his rather shaken expression in. San thinks you’re bold. Mostly because that’s what you are right now. Bold. Still embarrassed, but encouraged and desperate. “Can you kiss me?”, you ask again before you fall into another pile of self-embarrassment. 

“I can, but I don’t know how it’s going to help—“

You pull his face closer to yours with both of your hands and San is the one who slightly turns red now. “Y/N,” he pants, and you have to suppress a cheeky smile, when you push his cheeks together to form a duck-face. 

Until you notice he’s not being sulky with the way he’s trying to push you away.

It takes you a while, how would you know that it was so easy to get men erected? Okay, you’ve seen San get a boner in the most uncomfortable situations several occasions, but usually they weren’t because of a direct cause. 

If he had worn a baggier set of pants, you probably wouldn’t have seen it, but it’s only his shorts today, and the whole outline of it is almost jumping into your face, you couldn’t have not seen it. Not remarking it also wouldn’t have helped the situation. Your situation. ‘I won’t stop, I won’t stop fucking you all night.’

“Is that why you don’t wanna kiss me, Sannie?”, you murmur and flutter with your eye-lids, once your realise you’ve been staring for too long down there.

In contrast the voyeuristic scene, it strangely does not become one of those erotic moments; with San’s whiny chuckle, it actually becomes kind of … bonny. Him getting a hard-on, when his girlfriend is quite figuratively trying to open up with him, it becomes a small detail to poke fun at, one to laugh about it with an amiable awareness that you’re not mocking each other.

“I’m sorry— ignore this— I can ignore this,” San tells you and flops on his back, grabbing all of the blanket to roll around it and leaving you cold with less. “Hey!”, you pout and grab the seam of the blanket to get under it, but San gets ahold of your wrists to prevent you from cuddling to his side.

Maybe it’s because there’s nothing else occupying San’s mind and body right now, with you knowing it, or the way you can’t keep your hands off of him and he’s desperately trying to avoid your touch, it seems like a short game of cat-and-mouse.

“I don’t care that you’re hard, Sannie!”, you whine and search for his vicinity, but he wiggles away, forcing you to be a bit more assertive and wring with him.

“But I do!”, he exclaims, not really understanding the weight that your words hold. You just told him that you’re not appalled by his erection, that should be a big sign that you’re, uh, up for conversation, no? Why are you being like this? Maybe to keep up the tension? Because it’s fun? Fun playing around with San— to watch him try to use as little strength as possible, knowing that once he gets just the tiniest bit of muscle in, you’ll be overthrown?

“Sannie,” you make a sullen face, breathing out, at your third try to get your arms around him with San’s hands on your wrist, but when you get caught in the blanket with your leg that he keeps pulling, it’s over the second he yanks you to the side.

Yanking you to the side meaning pulling you by your whole body— you landing on his belly, arms awkwardly angled towards your torso, leaning into his face.

“You men”, you theatrically moan to tease him even more and San is fighting with all his inner voices right now. Most of them are just empty screams of ‘what is happening?!’, but also muscle memory persuading him to wrap his arms around your perfect waist and pin you down— he’s trying, that’s what he’s yearning to tell you by pushing his eyebrows down. “I’m sorry.”

“Ohh, Sannie,” you sigh, letting your head drop on top of his breast, crossing your fingers into San’s, while he manages his breathing.

“This is why I’m no dream man, Y/N,” San pouts, feeling guilty having used his power over you. 

“It’s natural, isn’t it?”, you answer — letting your hands fall to each side of San’s body, and you feel like one of those people that usually tell you the same thing when the fact that you’re a virgin slips off your tongue. ‘It’s natural, isn’t it? That couples have sex?’ It should be and it’s going to be, thank you.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I was really not prepared for that,” San wheezes and he raises one of your intertwined hands to touch your fingers with his lips.

“What? The cuddling or the dream?”

“The cuddling, in the context of the dream,” he answers honestly and inhales your sleepy scent from your fingertips, feeling how comfortable you lay on top of him.

“It was a good dream,” you conclude.

This was what San was trying to find out. Good or bad. And to his luck, it was good. Very good. ‘Such a good girl… So good to me.’

“Y/N?”

You accidentally zoned out, re-imagining your reverie; San all over you, sweat dripping down from his skin onto yours, his pelvis pistoning into your raised legs. How had your brain come up with that? It felt so… real. “Sorry, I got lost there for a second. What did you say?”

“How was he, that San in your dream?”

“The San in my dream, he,” you chuckle, feeling your breathing accumulate to your boyfriend’s, “… did everything, but he wasn’t careful, no.”

“What?!”, San exclaims, and it seems like he’s offended by his alter-ego to dare such a thing— he lets go off your hands in the shock and grabs you by your shoulders. “Not careful?!”

“Hmm,” you try and calm him down, letting your hands glide onto his pillowy breasts, massaging your fingers into his flesh by circling them, “he was inside… But a bit… Too fast for my liking? I mean, I don’t know my liking… I was enjoying it in my dream, but— uhm, I don’t think I could handle so much right now?”

San hums, as in to show that he heard what you said, but it took him a second of you burying your hands inside his armpits to inhale, “wait, right now?”, and remove his hands from your shoulders.

“Sannie,” you murmur with closed eyes, the buzzing feeling inside your lower abdomen swaying you to something like slumber, but if you’re not mistaken— and you’re sure that you can’t be mistaken about your own thoughts— it’s not a slumber that can be cured by sleep, but rather something else, “I couldn’t think of anything else today.”

He’s silent. He’s still breathing— thank goodness— but even though you can hear his breath leave his mouth, it doesn’t seem like San is going to say something. Pushing your upper body up, you tilt your head down.

He’s silent, sweaty and breathing, breathing heavily, staring upwards at you with sunken eyes, unable to let any of his thoughts leave the safe space of his mouth, because if San did, he’d give himself trouble for it. Seeing you fix your gaze— eyelids droopy from having been smushed into his breast— seems to only be adding fuel to his loss of good sense, and San is praying in his head that you won’t lick your lips once more, because oh god, if you did, you are going to be in so much more trouble than he is.

“Baby?”, you ask, and you swear you’re not trying to provoke him, since you only call him baby in the most special occasions, but right now, it just slipped out of you because San is being a bit strange. 

Boyfriends don’t act like this, do they? Your boyfriend doesn’t; that, you can be sure about.

“Sorry,” you correct yourself, hopefully to get rid of some of his— well, what was it— anxiousness?— no, frustration?, “I didn’t mean to say ‘baby’. It just slipped out.”

“N- no, Y/N, it’s not your fault, it’s mine,” San whines. “This may sound really weird, but while I would rather die than hurt you, sugar-pie,” he murmurs, avoiding your heavy gaze on him, “I am… a man. And I don’t know how comfortable you are with me, but I am fully, undeniably erected, Y/N. Don’t go around calling me baby right now, or I’ll turn like the San in your dream.”

“How does an orgasm feel like, Sannie?”, you ask, purposefully innocent, but still in a way that makes it obviously suggestive, your tone dropping in an octave from its initial high-tone embarrassment. Where is your sudden confidence coming from? You don’t know, but- uh- well, you’re kinda over San here, both mentally and physically, it seems like. 

“It feels like…”, San sighs, both reminiscing his lifetime of orgasms and feeling pretty fucking awkward in general, to be explaining this to you, while his body is screaming for him to do anything but talking. 

“… It feels like being washed over by refreshing water on a hot summer day, after easing yourself into it with small splashes.” San is no poet and he sees this by how you’re flexing your face together, trying hard to understand.

“It feels like…,” he starts again, and you can swear you are feeling something twitch underneath you, and it’s probably his hard erection. “… Orgasm feel like, wow… How do they feel like, they— Uh…”

Somewhere between his words, San is looking at the ceiling, letting his eyes wander around everywhere your body isn’t laying dangerously close to his throbbing genital, but having to tell you how orgasms feel like is just the end of his senses. Now it’s not only his body urging him on, his girlfriend is trying to find out how they feel like without having experienced one, ever.

“… They are worth it.”

He’s trying to be a good boyfriend, but up until now, he’s been used to being the boyfriend of a virgin girlfriend who didn’t want sex at the moment. And that was the end of it. Definitely more than manageable, more doable than … this.

“Do you think I can enjoy them too?”, you question, revealing to him the true nature of your curiosity.

You’ve confirmed the pulsation between your legs seconds ago, when San let out a whine from his mouth, that was definitely not intended to sound as sexual as it did. You’re a virgin, not dumb, you know what’s seductive, sultry and arousing. Oh, you’re aroused, alright, maybe for the first time in your life— and your boyfriend is, too, so if this puzzle isn’t going to be put together this night, there must be something wrong in the air.

“I can’t speak for you, sugarplum. It was your dream, Y/N.”

“I don’t know how we started, but we were here, on our bed, naked, and you were… thrusting into me with this… almost scary vigour, it was— It was rough. And that one, I didn’t enjoy. You looked mean, Sannie.”

“I’m sorry,” San pouts and he looks downwards to show how sorry he is, but also to focus on your words only. If he sees your sweet face describing those things one more time, then he’ll have to disappear into the toilet soon. “I would never treat you like that.”

You blink a couple of times and lick your lips. “How would you treat me?”

“I would,” San mutters, finally meeting your eyes again, while he slowly, but surely begins to prop himself up by angling his arms, getting to your face-level. “I would treat you with care, reverence—with tenderness; I would get every inch of your skin to understand how it feels to be seen and loved, I would—“, he pants, he’s unable to breathe through his nose, and he just keeps on talking, he…

“YN, I— I would do everything to get to make your body flourish with my love, to make your heart grow with all I have, I want to—“

He goes silent.

Yes, San is a man. But it’s strange to you how he blames being a man for his weakness, but if there is a strong suit that your boyfriend has over you, it’s not being so strong that he can pull you down in a second— it’s having the mind of a lover, and a lover who promises to protect everyone he loves with his strength, and not because he’s getting his own satisfying release out of it.

A man and a lover; San is also your boyfriend, who knows what to tell you to make you grow weak. Let’s say he doesn’t do it a lot for reasons that include wanting to protect you, but as you are on top of him, listening to his words from beneath you, his words melt like fizzled honey on your tummy, crumbling with them. 

“I want you, Y/N. And that’s my selfish dream.”

Being pulled down by gravity as San’s upper body rises, down to his crotch, you let him work his silent ways. He pushes himself up the last inch that it takes to be under your face, and his skin radiates heat onto yours.

There is not even a centimetre separating you two and San finally finds his words. “Please”, he begs, his voice above a whisper, “let me be your dream, Y/N.”

“I thought we already went through that,” you chuckle, getting your arms on each of San’s shoulders now, “baby.”

You can see he’s enjoying this a little too much, the way San is thoroughly covering every inch of your skin with butterfly kisses, as he has you laying on your back, letting you rub your hands over his torso to get used to the ‘intimacy’-part of it all. 

Getting naked was an easy process, being exposed to the very last skin on the other hand, not. You’ve never been naked in front of him for this specific occasion, and since he knows, San doesn’t dare to rush you into more touching than needed, allowing your underwear to wrap around your privates until he’s finished giving you goosebumps all over the body. 

With his soft lips, San kisses your shoulders and collarbones, whispering words of comfort into them, while you try your best to not make any lewd sounds. You didn’t know they came naturally, you had thought it was acting but — oh, goodness — no. 

“Sugar,” San sputters— rearranging himself over you, one knee between your legs, the other over your leg, “let ‘em out. Let the sounds out.”

You gulp, as he glides his hand across your stomach to your lower abdomen, slightly scratching the seam of your panties, and San has placed his lips at your jawline, his voice vibrating in your ear, peppering kisses around the corner of your neck, entrancing you to fall deeper into your mattress, sighing in the calming feeling of your boyfriend.

“Only because you wanna hear me,” you murmur and wrap your arms around his upper body, running your hands across his back muscles that ease into your touch. “And that’s a bad thing, because…?”, San hums and begins to get lower with his kisses and his thumbs caressing where your pantyliner meets your thighs, warming up the small patch of skin there.

“Hmm,” you breathe out, San’s lips working their way down your cleavage, “Good… point.”

San smirks and brings his hands up, not letting a second pass where he is not feeling you under his fingertips. “There is nothing more that I want to hear,” he murmurs, his eyes appearing to become a bit foggy from your scent, San becoming absolutely lost in it, “except you, my love.”

Your breath comes out stuttered and stroke his bangs away to the side in order to have a better view on his face above your breast. He’s radiant, but as much as he’s excited to be doing this, San will stop as soon anything leaves your mouth asking him to, he promised you. In your dream, San just kept going. That’s why you didn’t want to retell the story. He forced you around, he thrusted into you with no choice, and he wouldn’t stop, until your dream cut off without you having orgasmed once throughout the thing.

So the dream itself didn’t get you to want this, and San knows this, the curiosity did. Curiosity of reaching the edge that you missed in your sleep, which you think you can only reach with the real San, with your real boyfriend.

“Can I touch you here, sugar?”, San asks, his upper body hovering over your torso, lips approaching your face, hands gliding up by your waist to meet your ribs. He’s done a good job not staring at your exposed nipples, but following the way from your jawline, neck, and collarbones, this is the next area to appreciate.

“Yes, please,” you answer, cupping your boyfriend’s cheek with one hand, inviting him to kiss you softly. San encloses your breast with a hand that has up to no muscle tension in it, kindly allowing it to get used to the new, but warm contact.

His rosy lips meet yours and he presses several kisses on them, reminding you of how much familiarity you’re dealing with right now. You kiss San all of the time, for all the reasons you love him, and as he kisses you right now, at this sleepy midnight, he’s showing you why sexual intercourse is just a fancy term to describe something so complex, that it actually becomes simple. He loves you. That’s all he has to do to have or not have sex with you.

With his palm, San brushes over your nipple, and by wonder, it hardens and makes goosebumps run over your back.

“You look so beautiful,” San lulls, smooching your lips one more time before he can finally take a look at your breasts and gulp, lick his lips, and ask you, “may I?”

“You may.”

The last kiss lingers delicately on your opened lips, as San breathes in your breast, kneading and softening it up. Automatically, you exhale and run your fingers through his uncombed hair. He sucks once and twirls his tongue around your hardened nipple, and with your very valuable feedback, his other hand draws a long line across your curvature.

“Sannie... Baby…”, you whine, the slow, but sensual licking sending you down a sensation of being tickled and being caressed at the same time.

“Yes, pie?”, San grins, proud that he’s making you feel this way, no, that it’s him that is making you feel this way for the first time in your life. With each of your sweet sounds, his pride and ego grows and his lips lap around your nipples razzingly. 

You tug at his hair and send him down deeper into your skin, slightly pushing him to get his head where you’ve found that you feel best, grabbing the fabric of the bedsheets under you with your other hand.

“It feels so good,” you whine, and San chuckles after seeing your grip, gliding his hand right between your ticklish fingers. 

“Yeah?”, he coos and presses another kiss onto your mouth, adoring the way your eyebrows twitch inside according to his voice. “I’ll make you feel even better…”

San caresses the area under your boob, whispers into your ear, “Will you let me?”, and you nod, words inside your head turning into hazy exhales out of your mouth.

“You won’t regret it,” San chuckles and crosses his fingers into the surface of your hand, using your own hand to slowly, but surely slide down your stomach. You kind of get the idea of what he’s trying to do, but not really the image.

“You think I won’t regret it?”, you ask him, a bit anxious, — it’s your first time, after all— your soft skin under both of your fingertips becoming one, as he leads the hand down. “I don’t know so,” San admits, comforting you by kissing your forehead, “so I’m going to make you believe it, first.”

“Hm?”

San pushes his upper body up with the hand that has been at your breast and glides it behind your back, so he can get between you and the mattress, his naked upper body pressed against your shoulder. He plants an uncountable number of kisses onto your neck, and assists you down to your panties, keeping his eyes on you to confirm you’re okay with all that he’s doing.

You’ve never touched yourself on this bed. The last time you did was somewhere in your gleeful high-school teens, long before you met San, and if you’re honest, you’d rather have him touch you, but when San kisses you on the lips and both of your hands slide under the seam of your underwear. The rough fabric of the lace scrapes San’s hand and you meet the hot slickness you’ve become inside.

“Would you look at that,” San purrs, voice wispy— his finger is the only one to glide against your wet labia and explore the untouched lips. It helps that your hand is down there too, and it feels like a rubber hand illusion, you touching yourself while San does it for you.

“Y/N,” San moans into your ear, stirred by the sensation that is you. “You feel so good, don’t you, sugar?”

You inhale sharply, when San’s finger strokes over your clitoris, and straight away, your boyfriend presses kisses onto your temple. “S- Sannie,” you whine and provoked by your sounds, his finger circles around your clit again. 

Sparks, tingles — you name it. With San kissing you all around the face to counteract the new stimulation, you can’t keep your legs straightened, folding your thighs around your and San’s arm with an overwhelmed sigh. “Sannie…”, you repeat yourself and look him in the eye.

“Aww, sugar,” San smiles and catches your forlorn gaze, flushed and drowned in his kisses. Your cheeks are burning red, but the same thing goes for San. Both of you are drunk in love, falling for each other deeper with every breath you take.

“Is this good?”, he asks and rubs your back with his thumb, the other finger teasing the slick entrance. “Y- yes,” you answer and San crunches his nose in admiration, slowly easing his finger around the tissue. 

“Can you touch yourself for me?”, is San’s second question and you gulp at the sincerity in your boyfriend’s voice. He’s talking two octaves deeper, raspy, lascivious; he’s promiscuous in all he is doing, let it be nibbling at your earlobe, rubbing your clit, caressing your spine with utmost libertine care— you have a feeling you’re developing another crush for your boyfriend.

“Y- yes,” you stutter, but a bit anxious about doing something wrong. It feels so right when San does it, but he’s the more experienced one in this— at least that’s what you think. He removes his hand from the surface of yours and lets you do the rubbing for a short moment, and you try to replicate what he did to you, flicking your finger over your clitoris.

“Doing it so well,” San comments and he raises your upper body with his arm, making you sit up, slithering down while smothering your lower abdomen with sloppy kisses.

“R- really?”, you ask, and San nods, while kissing the inner sides of your thighs, his eyes looking at you sideways. “Of course. It’s your body, Y/N. Your beautiful, gorgeous body.”

As San gutters, you feel something swaying on your clit, when your boyfriend smirks and looks directly at your pussy. He’s so handsome, San is making you nervous, and his eyes are drilling into you lustfully.

“You’re so beautiful everywhere, sugar, what have I done to deserve this?”, he pants, hooking himself from under your thigh, hands resting on your hip bone.

You don’t know what to answer and just flutter with your eyelashes, exhaling, when San sticks his tongue out and slides across your slickness it in one stroke, looking up at you to catch your whiny reaction. He deserves all of it, not because he was patient enough to wait for it, but because San is the one to make you feel this pretty in the first place.

“It’s probably really predictable I was going to say this, but I can’t not say it, ” San gutters, his dimple dug deep into his cheek— he’s smiling, licking his lips, “you taste amazingly sweet, my love.”

You press your lips together and feel like you have to push San into your arousal again by his hair, combing through it. “D- do it again,” you beg, and San’s heart flutters. Not letting you wait, he inhales through his nose and laps his mouth around your glistening cunt. You already knew he was good with his tongue for you have french-kissed him before, but— but this is another type of tongue-work. 

It’s slow, it’s sensual, but it still feels so exhilarating— how he’s sucking in your clitoris, laving over your muscled entrance that reacts to the movement of his tongue; it makes you breathe heavily and let out feathery moans.

“Feels so good,” you hush, and stroke his hair. San hums and at smiles with his eyes, getting one hand away from your leg to slowly run it towards your vagina.

“Are you really going to … make me cum?”, you ask, a bit plumply, both out of rush and nervousness. 

“I would like to, yes,” San answers, kissing you all around the pelvis bone. His lips have become plump and his nose is also painted rosy red from how he planted his face into you. “Will you allow me to?”

“Please be careful,” you appeal and San nods. “Yes, Y/N. I promise I will never do anything to you that will hurt you. Not like that stupid… dream-San you talked about.”

You chuckle and caress his jawline with your thumb, San leaning his head into your hand. “I know you would never do that, Sannie,” you say and prop yourself with an elbow. “Please make me cum.”

San wants to say something, but he bites his lip and suppresses it, crawling closer to your throbbing, heated pussy. “What is it, baby?”, you ask him, and this time, you deliberatelywant to tease him by calling him that, winking slyly at him.

Your boyfriend blinks in disbelief and lets out a light-hearted scoff, his breathing comes in and out stuttered. “Y/N,” San hums, putting a leg over his shoulder and you feel like more air is hitting your wetness, “you have no… idea… what those words are doing to me.”

Your boyfriend gulps, and as you peek at him innocently, having to get used to the new position, he looks amazed and set ablaze. Is this your ‘aroused face’? You, with your lips parted ever-so soppily, looking sultry and lovable— San is savouring this sight, oh, this sight, and saving it into his brain so it will never leave his mind, add it to the collection of his memories of you.

“Show me,” you whisper, a fire starting to enflame in you, demanding San to extinguish it.

“There’s nothing else in the world I’d rather do,” San hums and with that sentence, he’s at your cunt again, but more eager this time. The tongue flicks faster over your clitoris, his pants are getting breathier against your skin— San wants you, wants all of you, and before you know it, there’s a thumb rubbing at the entrance, notifying you that he is going to be penetrating soon.

“I’ll make you come over and over,” San breathes, and his eyes are filled with lust, hunger, desire, thirst— and you gasp at the sight of it alone, but his voice, his heart, his mind, is all painted and drowned in something purely innocent that is love. “Is that alright with you, sweetheart?”

He asks as if you stand a chance to resist him, but San seems to be doing this for the enjoyment that is pleasing you, and you’re more than happy to allow him to have his body all over yours for the sakes or it, because you love him so much. You’re already excited for when you know how to get your body all over his.

“That,” you exhale, feeling his thumb be replaced by his digit, the muscle of your entrance closing in on the finger tip, “is alright with me. I’m in, Mr. Choi, the deal’s settled.”

San chuckles at your light-hearted joke and you giggle as well, which allows his finger to glide into you slowly. Of course you’re tight, but you find it fascinating how your muscles ease around him and suck his finger in, the slickness squelching, as he licks over your slit.

“Looking forward to our cooperation,” he grins, lips pressed against your pussy and you can feel yourself slowly turning into mush. Your abdomen feels strangely ticklish, and there’s this pulling feeling that makes your body rock.

“… Ms. Choi.”

You scoff— San gave you his last name, how silly of him— but your amusement doesn’t hold on for too long, when San begins to move his finger around, angling it up and down.

“Mmhf,” you gutter and your legs close down on his head, the second leg finding its place on his other shoulder. “That—“, you try to gasp, but San being the quick learner he is, keeps stroking that one spot which got to this reaction in the first place.

“S- San!”, you whine; fuzzy, dizzy, light-heated, feeling like you’re going to shoot into space, to other worlds, and come right back to earth. In the meanwhile, your boyfriend’s tongue flicks even faster, head stuck between your thighs, his finger sliding in and out of you until you’re a whimpering mess.

“I’m here, baby,” he murmurs, finally looking up to you, wishing to meet your eyes again, but your head is rolling to the back, your upper body feels heavy and you slightly fall to the back, having to grab his hair to support yourself.

“I- I,” you stutter, feeling like there’s something that’s sizzling for explosion, and it seems San is feeling it too, in the way your pussy is tightening around his finger, and half-laughing out of glee about this discovery, San props himself up a little bit, your lower body raised from the mattress.

“Cum, sugar, cum,” he whispers, and as he adds a second finger that fills you up in a way that one finger couldn’t achieve, you fully suffocate him with your thighs, the thin string holding you away from release finally snapping. 

“Fuck!”, you moan, and at first, San is surprised about your cussing, but then his eyes grow big, when there is more fluid coming out of your vagina that hasn’t been there beforehand. Explosion, sweet release, what should you call it? An orgasm— that’s what this is, but no, you’re also squirting, lower body spasming as you do so, and San is trying to react quickly by slurping it all in, but it’s too much— your bed gets wet. He drives the two fingers in and out and makes you a mess, makes a mess, makes you messy, getting all your squirt out and inside his mouth.

“San— Sannie— Baby!”, you pant, overstimulated by his fingers and lips that will just not stop, and you fear you’re going to choke your boyfriend to death with your thighs, but the same tingle appears in your lower abdomen again, felt everywhere in your tightness.

“Come on, come on, come on,” San growls, short of breath, and by angling his fingers upwards your walls, you see stars again, throwing your head into the bed and you pull at his hair, harshly and roughly, gripping his scalp for dear life, when you’re shot into bliss again.

“Ooooh baby,” San howls wispily, repeating his motion, but less ecstatic this time in order to not make you pass out from pleasure, if that happens at all.

And as licks the remaining fluid of his lips, and gets you back down again, San doesn’t lose any of his excitement, hair ruffled by your grip, lips swollen from using them so much. “Can I do that again? Can I please do that again?”

“Wha— What about you?”, you ask, panting, knowing that the penis inside his pyjamas has been hard since almost an eternity, but it seems like San doesn’t care about that at all. He looks euphoric, he looks like he saw a god (a goddess, mind you) and San just shakes his head.

“Don’t think about me, I’m,” he admits, and what you don’t know is that he just came inside his pants, when San saw your stunning orgasm-face— and he definitely has to clean it up before it soaks through, “all cared for here.”

San shuffles away from your legs to your face and kisses your forehead, wiping a bit of sweat away. “I’m gonna get towels and you’re gonna make yourself ready for a second time, alright?”

“But—“

“Will there be a ‘but’?”, San asks, and he’s prepared to let all go and just take a shower, but you just scratch your neck. “Don’t you want to fuck … me?”

“Ohhh, don’t worry, sugar, I want and will,” San grins and you smile, feeling a bit light-headed because of your first orgasm. For this to be your first orgasm, while many of your friends had their first time without having orgasmed—… it’s a lot, to admit the least.

Not to say that you’re trying to compare with them and feel superior, but if this is what’s waiting for is worth, you’d spend all that time again. 

Again. And again, and—

“Again!”

You’re breathing heavily, skin slippy from your sweat — or, well, both of you are covered in body fluids, there are pearls of sweat dropping down on San, who, despite rubbing you clean with his hands, doesn’t even bother anymore to dry his wet arm anymore.

“Sannie,” you exhale, when San kisses your from behind, as you sit between his legs, “I- I th-think this is enough, I’m r-ready.”

“Hmmm?”, he hums, pressing his naked upper body at your back, his two fingers coming out of you for the nth time. Your hips have been spasming around for a long while now, and you feel sensitive and over-stimulated at your clitoris, but if there is one thing you’re still curious about after all those orgasms, it’s how San feels inside you not with his fingers but his girth.

“I want your dick inside,” you command directly, too sex-drunk to express your wish in any other way.

“Are you sure?”, San asks and kisses the nape of your neck. “We can do it any other time, sugar-pie, aren’t you tired by now?”

“Are you?”

“Of course not.”

You turn your head around and slightly pant, seeing San not lose any of his desirous colour in his eyes. “Then let’s not lose any time.”

San presses a deep kiss on your temple before he leaves your back, and you feel the warmth of his lips sit there, as he positions himself at the front, on his knees. He still has his boxer-shorts on, but that only goes so far, when he’s been leaking with pre-cum, never-mind has come in the same set an hour ago.

You can see it perfectly— San’s length, his girth, the way it moves by itself under the fabric; it looks captivating as much as it is arousing you again after all the times you’ve orgasmed this evening. 

“Do you want to touch me?”, San asks, and trails his own hand over his breast, giving you an idea of what you can do to pleasure him. 

“Yes, baby,” you answer and get on your knees as well, grabbing San by the hips and caressing the seam of his shorts with your thumbs. In the meanwhile, your lips seek for his vicinity and you place kisses on his neck. “I’d love to.”

“I love you so much,” San sighs and holds you by your head tenderly with both hands, cupping the circular form, feeling you get a taste of his sweaty skin at his neck. His Adam’s apple bops, when you slightly pull his boxers down and there’s resistance from his erection.

“You have a big dick, right?”, you ask, and San coughs— he was expecting you to say ‘I love you’ back first.

“U- uh,” he stammers, “yeah. It’s- uhm. I hope it’s not too big, Y/N.”

“Can it be too big?”

You ask him with genuine curiosity and San scratches the back of his head. “I was preparing you thoroughly for it, honey, that’s all… I can say.”

He harrumphes in the awkward conversation, and before he can get shy from your stare, you chuckle and kiss him, “I love you too, Sannie. I couldn’t imagine doing this with any other person.”

Your boyfriend slides his hand to your jaw and pulls up your head to kiss you, mumbling, “only do this with me, Y/N,” into your lips.

As his lips work against yours, you slide down your hands into his boxer-shorts and use your wrists to spread the spandex, getting San’s underwear off. 

With your eyes closed, you hear San breathe in deeply through his nose and he rubs your back with both of his hands to push your naked body against his. 

His dick feels hot, wet and mild, when it presses against your abdomen, and you subconsciously grind your lower body to identify it better. It is big. The two fingers don’t even come close to what you’re working with here, and in the moment, it’s really good that you feel loosened up by the numerous times San made you come.

“Please touch me,” San instructs you and you nod, opening your eyes to see his glistening tip pointed towards you. Without waiting, you leniently wrap your hand around it and San parts your lips to pant.

“I don’t think I’ll hold on for long,” he whimpers, and his pelvis twitches, when you squeeze your hand around the soft, heated, slick muscle.

“Wait, Sannie… Do we have condoms?”, you ask and to your surprise, San opens up the cupboard. You loosely remember when San asked you if he should buy condoms at the beginning of your relationship, and you know that you answered with an ‘I don’t know’ back then.

A year later, it turns out San has bought a pack, but didn’t talk about it until the time was ripe. “Do you want to do it for me?”, he asks you, ripping apart the plastic wrapper with his finger and mouth. That this took a wet dream to realise is funny to you, but as you’re in the moment, you can only gulp in anticipation.

You nod and continue to pump his length in your grasp, when you’re handed the flimsy condom. Is that even going to fit around him?

“Yes, it is going to fit,” San giggles at your subconsciously asked question, and then kisses you, “did dream-San wear a condom?”

You place the center of the condom on the tip of penis and slowly glide down the lubed silicone by the ring.

“No, I don’t think so,” you murmur, though you couldn’t care any less about your dream right now. San hums and bucks up his hip into your hand, making the condom hit the end of his length.

It frankly looks quite comical, the way the white outlines your boyfriend’s dick, but before you can laugh, San delicately pushes you at your ass— other hand on the back of your head to not make you hit the bed-frame, with you landing on your back, legs angled towards the sky.

San tsk’s about his alter-ego’s wrong-doings and shakes his head. “I think your brain has a very twisted image of me.”

You chuckle at how sulky San is about it, though you can’t take any responsibility. You also don’t know how your brain cooked up the imagination of San ramming into you raw, especially when your biggest fear has been that things were going to hurt. (Now that you know they don’t, you’re good to go, you think.)

But the real San touches you softly, carefully, endearingly faintly, even if his dick looks intimidatingly big; you’re covering your mouth at the sight of it alone. 

“Come on, don’t be shy now,” San grins and flops his protected peen on your pussy, the girth of it weighing down on your sensitive bud.

“Sannie, baby, please be gentle,” you whine and San caresses your cheek, not finding your plead in any way offensive. 

“I will, sweetheart,” he whispers, and his voice sounds sweet, melts sweetly in your ears, but when his tip is there, at your entrance, you have to grab his hand at your cheek forcefully.

It’s a stretch. If you had known it would have come to this, you would have asked San to add a third, no, maybe even a fourth finger, but maybe he knew too, that even that wouldn’t have helped with a lot.

Not to say that it hurts, but to feel your muscle be extended as he just pushes in the tip, you’re already panting. San intertwines his fingers and leans forward, trying to calm you down. “Are you okay, baby?”, he asks, pouting. “I can stop.”

“N- no,” you stutter, though the bit of movement has had him slide in deeper and thus, your cunt be stretched further. “It’s okay. Just be slow. I can do it.”

“No, Y/N, you have to want it,” San sighs and you press your face against his hand. “I want it,” you murmur, glancing up at him. “I want you, Sannie.”

He smiles in awe of your droopy eyes and luscious lips reaffirming your love to him, and San inhales deeply. “I’ll move a bit more, okay?”

“Okay.”

Both of you inhale at the same time, but it’s San this time to moan it out. “Oh, god,” he whimpers, “feels so good, Y/N. Feels so fucking good.”

And this is where you close your eyes and let your boyfriend do his thing over you, because San’s sounds are candy to your ears. He’s doing it slowly, and heaven knows he can’t push it just entirely just yet, but the first third that San has inside you is enough to make you grip the sheets.

“Are you alright? Baby, is it too much? Can I do more?”, San whines, and you’re too weak-hearted for his arousal-sake, that you sigh sultrily and say, “Sannie, you know what to do.”

“No, no, baby, please don’t say things like that, I really won’t—“

He groans and pushes himself further in. You have to strain your forehead and pull in your eyebrows to work around the fact that you have never felt your cunt be stuffed in like this, and oh god, you feel so stuffed.

“Baby, please tell me when you want me to stop,” San begs you, concerned about your facial expression, kissing your cheek repeatedly. 

“This just feels unfamiliar, that’s all,” you whimper and San pulls out a little bit while you talk. “But you will tell me, right?”, he asks you, and gets a nod in return. You should be seeing black in front of you, given that you’ve closed your eyes, but after San pushes himself in again, there’s a piercing zap that makes you open your eyes wide.

“Sannie, wait—“

He immediately stops and both of you look at each other. San doesn’t move, anxious that anything will make you more anxious, when you grab him by his arms. 

And with one glance down, you see it.

Blood.

Not a lot, fortunately so, but still, bleeding from your privates outside your period is terrifying, and it makes all of your heat flee away— 

Blood!

There’s not a scream or a gasp leaving your mouth, rather just a short soundless inhale that indicates your surprise, when you close your eyes and cover them with the surface of your hands.

Blood?!

“Oh my god, sugar,” San exclaims silently, you don’t know if this is a first for him as well— and though both of you don’t panic as loudly as you could have, your boyfriend still looks mortified, eyes ripped open, mouth opened by a slit, when you remove your palms from your eyelids. “Did I hurt you? Did it hurt? Oh my god, Y/N, I’m so sorry, I—“

“No, Sannie, it didn’t hurt— It didn’t—“

Not panicking, but still both stammering and not aware of what to do with your hands. 

He pulls out and covers your private with the towel that he used to catch your fluid before, and San immediately claims a serious expression on his face, looking around to find something for you to hold onto. He finds you a pillow, puts it over your stomach, and you cuddle into it, trying to catch a breath. 

You didn’t lie. It didn’t hurt, it really didn’t. At least not even half the the amount of blood that is covering the towel, and you don’t think anything else (let it be more preparation or whatever) could have had helped you two in this situation. Is it just a matter of luck? Of your body? Well, maybe you’re out of luck and your body is going lax as well.

San is removing the condom from his dick and fetching his boxer-shorts again to fully call it quits, using approximately 4 seconds before he disappears in your arms again and smothers you with kisses.

“But— but Sannie…”, you whimper, feeling kind of guilty to be leaving him hanging like this after he’s done so much for you, but he silences you with his lips.

“Don’t you dare say sorry, sugar-pie,” San smiles and brushes over your hair, continuing to peck your face, as he hugs you from aside, and his warm skin soothes the goosebumps you got from seeing red on yourself. “As long you’re not hurting.”

“Do you want to take a shower or do you want to sleep?”, San asks you and you shiver a little bit once the adrenaline has worn down and all that provides you comfort is your boyfriend’s vicinity. “I don’t know, Sannie,” you murmur into his breast and a hand rubs your back. You’re still naked, but San covers you up with a blanket. “You don’t have to know, sugar,” San whispers and rests his chin on top of your head. “Just be here with me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

You nod into his embrace, feeling exhausted, worn out and tired, and you start to breathe heavily into his skin, San rubbing his thumb across your lower back to match the rhythm of your breathing, your heartbeat slowing down.

You’re safe.

You’re home.

You’re not dreaming, you’re with your boyfriend, Choi San, and even though nobody will know what kind of dreams will visit you, what nightmares will make you wake up in the middle of the night, you’re, well, in love.

Comfortable, soft, warm, at ease, serene — happy; this is what love feels like. A dream doesn’t come close to the unworried warmth love provides, to the warmth the real San provides, and while you doze off, you and San whisper affirmations into each other’s presence that you’ll,

“Dream of me, Y/N.”

[septembersummer]

warmth

!! 18+ only; minors DNI !!

summary: Nanami is an alpha, and he's the very best at self restraint. You're an omega, and you need someone to look after you while you're in heat. I wonder what could go wrong here.

pairing: nanami x you

word count: 3.5k

cw: omegaverse, alphas, omegas, going into heat, triggering ruts, degradation, rough s*x

an's: my first ever nanami fic where he actually gets justice. he deserves this for real

links: wheel of fortune (ao3)

my long fics are all posted on ao3, so if you like my writing pls support me there :)

Nanami is not a cold man.

He might seem like it on the outside, because he has too much going on inside of his head to really show his warmth to other people, not that there was much warmth there to start with. But it is there.

For example, you know that he’s much more empathetic than Gojo, who tries his best, but it doesn’t come naturally to him the way that it comes to Nanami. Most of the people in this job become cold and brittle with time, as the deaths of their friends and the grim existence of curses eat away at their warmth until there’s nothing left but a husk. Cold, brittle, alone.

And Nanami, despite how hard he might try to convince you otherwise, is not cold nor brittle. That’s why you chose him to watch over you during this upcoming… sensitive time.

It happens every month or so, yours aren’t as regular as other omegas you know. Yours tends to hit you hard and fast, and it isn’t as predictable as your friends’ heats. Last month, for example, you were in the middle of a mission out in the field when you felt the familiar creeping of warmth up the back of your spine. It lingers in the pit of your stomach, ignites your skin inch by inch. Slowly, surely, it overtakes you– once a month, every month. Rinse and repeat. You go from a dignified woman who does an incredibly dangerous job which requires excellent physical prowess and mental stability to a mind-broken, lustful creature that wants nothing more than to gather all of her favorite things in her bed and get fucked until it’s over.

You want to mate. Like an animal.

It’s always made you sick. You’re one of the omegas who desperately wishes she were born an alpha, or even a beta. Alphas are easily tempted and often over-indulgent when they smell an omega, but at least they can live without fear of being taken advantage of when their rut hits. There’s no instances of omegas assaulting alphas when they’re in rut.

Beta would probably be best, though. No heat, no rut, no urges to be bred like a wild beast or to breed like a wild beast. They live life simply and quietly, and they marry each other with ease.

Alas, you are no alpha, and you are no beta, which is why you lay in bed this evening with four blankets, six pillows, three sweatshirts, and two pairs of sweatpants. The numbers are precise and exact, no more and no less. You’ve arranged them three times, you’ll do it again.

The heat is tingling at the base of your neck already. You move to wipe a bit of sweat that’s just starting to gather at your brow, and you know that you’re starting to smell. You’ve heard that the smell of an omega who’s about to go into heat is sickly sweet, saccharine, like fresh peaches or cotton candy or cinnamon rolls.

You know that Gojo often sees an omega who smells a lot like milk chocolate and espresso when she goes into heat.

“Her pussy tastes sorta like whipped cream– drives me crazy–”

“You’re so fucking gross.” Nanami snickered when you said that a few days ago, which led you into the conversation about heats and ruts that led into another conversation, which led you here, locked in your bedroom with all of your favorite things, while Nanami keeps watch outside for the next few days.

He’s a man of great self-restraint, and he’s never taken an omega, by his own choice to do so. It’s probably because the job wouldn’t allow him to take a mate without incurring serious risk to the relationship. Alphas and omegas mate for life– he’s too responsible to risk that when he has a job with a fifty-something percent death rate.

The looming threat of death and despair doesn’t keep your heightening senses from picking up on his scent as it just barely wafts beneath the doorway to your bedroom, though. He smells masculine, sort of like eucalyptus and pine, woodsy and grounding. You knew that the scent of an alpha would drive you crazy at a time like this.

Dealing with that issue, however, is better than the alternative. When you’re in the thick of it, you’ll want any alpha. You’ll want them so fucking desperately that you’d claw the door down to get to one– anyone would do, anyone. Even terrible Gojo, who would fuck you through it and purposefully not mark you because he doesn’t want to mate.

Nanami, a man of some warmth and fantastic self-control won’t let you claw your way through the door and fuck the first alpha you smell, or the first that smells you. He’ll keep you safe, protect you, and he won’t burst through your bedroom door to bite you and breed you like an animal. He’s not an animal, he’s a gentleman, and he cares about you.

You think about the sort of protector that he is, you take several sets of deep breaths from your spot underneath the blankets in the center of your bed, and you clench your thighs together hard. He is protective, isn’t he? He’s taking care of you now, even though your scent must be driving him crazy out there. He’d take good care of you in the future, he’d take good care of you and the little blonde babies that he fucks into your wet cunt when you’re–

“Are you alright?” A voice startles you.

You can hear it through the rather thin piece of wood that separates you from the six foot tall alpha that stands on the other side of it.

“Y-Yeah,” you reply, shifting beneath the covers to fight the urge to slip your hand into the waistband of the sweats you’re wearing.

You’ll have to take them off soon. It’s becoming unbearable to be clothed, and it will only get worse as this progresses.

“Your scent changed,” he remarks, and you notice that his voice has taken on a thicker, more husky timbre tonight than it usually has, “are you afraid?”

He always speaks lowly with a hint of the rasp he’s gained from smoking cigarettes all these years. His voice never sounds bad, but tonight it’s…

You shiver, and you can hardly fight the urge to touch yourself anymore.

“Afraid of what?” You ask, moving to take your sweatpants off.

Your shirt goes with it, over your head and thrown into the floor where it belongs. It doesn’t have the right scent, nothing here does. You want something more masculine, something darker that you can bury your face into when you’re biting down on the sheets later trying to soothe the itch between your legs.

“Of me,” he replies, and the doorknob makes a soft clicking sound, as though he’s resting his hand on it while he talks to you.

It’s locked, because alphas are not bulletproof, not even self-controlled, quiet, kind Nanami. Instincts are one hell of a drug, and everyone is susceptible.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you respond, noticing that your own voice has taken on a more whiny, desperate tinge when you speak.

Normally you’re so controlled, standing tall and proud, but you’re reduced now. You’ll only be reduced further into the puddle of slick that you’re quickly becoming.

“Nanami?” You whimper out, before biting your lip and trying to control the sound of your breaths. They fall faster when you remember that there’s an alpha right there who could help you, who could make you feel better.

“Yes?” He responds.

The doorknob clicks again, you release a breathy moan at the mere prospect of him coming inside.

He won’t, he swore it. Even if you plead or cry, even if you get on your hands and knees at his feet and beg him to breed you, he won’t. He gave his word a week ago.

He’s never broken a promise, it’s a true sign of his empathetic nature. It won’t do you any good to go out and beg, but the urge grows with each breath.

“Can you give me one of your shirts?” You ask, negotiating with your desire, now fully naked and sinking deeper into the blankets that smell all wrong, so wrong.

There’s nothing right here. No amount of rearranging will fix what’s broken.

“I can’t open the door,” he says, and you can hear that his breaths are falling faster, too.

“Please,” you plead quietly, “just one–”

“I’m not opening the fucking door,” he responds roughly and harshly all at once, lashing out at you because his self-control is waning, it seems.

“Take your sleeping pills. Now.”

You’re stiff and still in the spot that you lay after hearing that command. The you that exists outside of your heat would’ve not responded well to such a harshly given demand, but she is no longer here with you. So, you do as told, and you take the pills that will hopefully help you sleep through the night.

If you aren’t getting fucked, you’ll need to sleep and drink water. You won’t have an appetite for food, but your body needs to rest as much as it can to recover from the energy that’s going into putting out pheromones for your mate. You know it, and you recite it to yourself, trying to hold onto what little sanity there is left.

They take effect after a few minutes, thankfully, but your body feels burning hot to the touch now, and you’re touching it more than you should. You fall asleep with your hand between your thighs, with slick dripping onto the mattress as you pump your fingers inside yourself over and over against your g-spot. Even if your sleep, you’re still pumping just faintly.

Nanami isn’t a cold man.

In fact, he’s fucking burning alive.

Standing outside your bedroom door, he can tell by your scent that you’ve fallen asleep now. He hasn’t moved since he last gave you the command to take your medicine, for fear of what his own body would do if he did.

Instead, he’s standing there with his fist clenched so hard around the feeble little door handle that he fears he might break it if his fingers tighten even slightly more than they are. He stares at his white knuckles, and he takes a deep breath that only makes this worse.

He swore to protect you while you’re going through this, but goddammit he wants to kick this too thin door down and fuck into you until you break.

Your scent is sweet, but not so sickly sweet that it disgusts Nanami. He’s been around omegas when they’re near their heat, and frankly he’s never been very tempted by them. The scent of slick has always been so sickeningly saccharine that it’s only disinterested and annoyed him. His vague indifference to the scent of omegas is the reason that he agreed to keep watch over you through your heat this month.

He didn’t know it would be like this. The others, they aren’t compelling nor particularly arousing to Nanami. He’s been lucky throughout his adulthood as an alpha to not be tempted by scents and flavors in the way that other alphas he knows are indulgent.

You, however…

Oh, you do smell sweet, but you smell soft and airy. Like warm vanilla with just a hint of citrus. It’s a natural musk, so it’s not like perfume or confections, but a combination of your natural pheromones and the ambrosial lure of your heat.

It’s still the first day, and he’s never felt so compelled to break through a door or a fucking wall to get to anything before.

For the first time in his life, he’s feeling something other than vague indifference shrouded by duty.

For the first time in his life, Nanami wants something . Desperately, painfully, he wants you, needs you.

He owns you. You wouldn’t have called him here if he didn’t, right? You wouldn’t have called him to protect you if you didn’t subconsciously know that you’re his omega, that you need him to take care of you, to keep you safe. He’s the only one that you trust to keep you safe during your heat.

You know that you’re his. You must.

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, gripping the door handle harder now. Gripping harder, turning it even though the lock protests, trying to open it.

He swore that he wouldn’t do this. He promised. He never breaks a promise.

The door handle won’t budge

He just wants to see that you’re alright. That makes sense. He needs to protect you, he’s here to protect you. How can he keep you safe if he can’t even see you?

Or touch you.

The lock is tougher than it looks. It’s starting to make a screeching sound.

He can’t protect you if he can’t touch you.

Or fuck you.

Breed you.

Bite the little scent spot on your throat, show everyone that you chose him to protect you. Him, not Gojo, not a trusted friend. You made your choice. Everyone should see it, smell him on you, see the way that your stomach grows rounder when he impregnates you tonight.

It’s just about to break, his forearm clenches hard as he turns the lock almost past the point of no return. Soon, you’ll be his. You aren’t yet, but soon. Soon, the whole world will know what you’ve decided, what he’s decided.

He’s so focused on breaking the stupid, stupid little knob, that he doesn’t even notice when it unlocks on its own. His eyes have to adjust to the dark when the door opens easily, and he stumbles forward a step.

He stumbles forward, landing inches from you. His hand rests on your forearm, a subconscious movement to keep you from falling. His omega, no one else’s. He can’t let you get hurt.

If he weren’t forcibly going into his rut tonight, he’d feel your skin and know that you have a fever, but he has one, too.

If anything, you feel cold to the touch tonight, because Nanami is nothing frozen nor brittle, he’s burning magma against your skin when he pulls you into his arms, when his lips collide with yours in a kiss that’s barely a kiss, and more an angry meeting of tongue and teeth.

Animals don’t need to exchange words when they’re going to mate, and neither do the two of you. That’s all you are– animals when you break the buttons on his shirt apart to lick and kiss at his chest, his stomach, and animals again when he unfastens his belt and throws it across the room, and your feeble, cold fingers undo the buttons and zipper of his pants to tug them down.

“Spread your fucking legs,” he growls, as he crawls overtop of you, doing the movement for you with his large, calloused hands when you aren’t fast enough for him.

His cock aches and burns where its pressed against his stomach, leaking precum onto his skin that he’ll fuck into you soon enough.

“Please, please, please–” you beg, shivering and shaking beneath him as he thrusts two fingers into your pussy.“More,” he murmurs, as his dark eyes look into yours in the darkness.

Your scent is flooding his senses, his psyche. There are no coherent thoughts left in him, and none left in you. There’s nothing in the world tonight but two fingers much larger than yours pumping and thrusting inside of you, and the feeling of euphoria that’s almost good enough cascading over your shaking form like a tidal wave.

“Please, more, please– want your cock, need your cock, fuck– Nanami, please–” you moan, dragging your fingernails down his back in anticipation.

“Gonna mark you, gonna– fuck–” Nanami hisses and spasms, thrusting inside of your drenched cunt in one go.

He cums right then and there, with his first hard thrust into you. It throbs inside of you as you lock your legs around his hips to drag him deeper, further in. His teeth bite down on your shoulder, not quite marking you yet, but soon.

He pulls half out, the slickness of you is already spread along his stomach, and he’d like to bathe in it tonight. His cum starts to drip out of you, but it’s stopped when he thrusts inside again, again, again.

His teeth sink into your skin wherever they land, his hands grip your thighs so hard that they’ll leave bruises, there are no thoughts left in his mind other than fuck, and breed.

“You’re my omega,” he breathes against the bruise he’s just made with his teeth, “fuck, mine.”

He shivers in delight and relief. No one else can fuck you now. His scent is all over you, his seed is inside you. The primal part of his brain that needs to possess you isn’t anxious anymore, you’re where you belong.

You are his, every inch of your burning skin that meets his, and every inch that doesn’t. He lifts you up by your hips, holding your body weight up with his muscular forearms with ease to get a better angle to just fuck you in. The only sounds in the room are those of skin meeting skin, and your cries of yes and please and more and cum inside me.

He does just that, every single cry that you make is answered by his hips moving in tandem with yours. You’re cumming as often as you’re breathing, shivering, shaking, and panting beneath him, as he can’t decide whether to watch the swell of your tits bounce with the intensity of his thrusts, or the spot where your bodies are meeting.

Vanilla, citrus, and you– that’s all there is. He throws your ankles on top of his shoulders, bearing his weight down on top of your smaller body so that he can kiss you while he slams into you. “Na- na - mi–”

You cry out his name again and again like a mantra or a prayer. It is the best sound that’s ever graced his eardrums, he’s certain when he’s this deep inside of you that there’s no sweeter scent nor sound that could compare to yours.

He’ll take good care of you, he thinks about it when he moves inside of you, starting to draw close to release again. He feels the throbbing of blood moving absolutely nowhere but to his cock as he drives it inside of you, twitching and fucking his cum back into you before it can drip down between your asscheeks and stain the sheets even worse than they already are.

He won’t let you out of this mating press until the sun blots out and he dies, or until he fucks a baby so deep into you that you can’t remove it, can’t deny that it’s his and no one else’s. He needs to mark you, he’s fucking you but he needs to mark you.

He bites your lower lip when you continue to kiss him, before diving down to your neck while you’re screaming his name, and an orgasm washes over you. Your inner muscles tighten and constrict around him, and he presses more of his weight onto you until it must be hard to breathe. You’re tightening around him, sucking him into your pussy.

He can’t fight his urges, he can’t fight the burning heat within him for a second longer. His teeth sink into your throat right where your pheromones would come from, and you screech either from pain or pleasure, he doesn’t know.

He’s cumming inside of you again, biting harder when you try to move beneath him, causing a whimper of pain to erupt from you. Nanami tastes your body in his mouth while he gives you short, hard thrusts that bury his seed inside and keep it there.

He breathes a sigh of relief with his teeth still buried in your skin, holding your body up even higher at an angle so that his cum can’t escape you. You’re finally his, he doesn’t have to be cold and brittle, he can let his burning warmth seep into your body and stay there, and then he can breed you just like this again and again.

Everything is better here in his arms. You’re happy, safe, warm, marked by your mate. Nanami sleeps soundly next to you, and he deserves it after the three days he’s been awake in his claiming of you.

With your ass pressed against his abdomen, he’s still buried inside of you, still hard even in his sleep. He doesn’t mind the mess of cum that’s between both of your legs, and neither do you. His strong arms are wrapped around your waist, and your body is just starting to cool down.

When your sanity returns fully, maybe you’ll regret it. Maybe you’ll wish you hadn’t stumbled forward to your door in a haze of lust and desire. The stinging set of teeth marks on your neck and shoulders feel like marks of pride this morning, but you aren’t so sure about tomorrow.

You don’t have much time to think about it, as your mate thrusts into you from behind again, feverish and burning, ready for more.

[youphoriaot7]

helloooo!! i am sen, nice to meet you all :D i've never actually used tumblr for fandom before, but i'm dipping my toes in here on qsmpblr and i've been having a BLAST (y'all may have already seen me in the tags lmao). figured i'd set up a pinned post so that you guys know a bit more!

sen – they/them – over 18 i write fic on ao3 here, and cosplay over on tiktok here! if you want more links, you can check out my carrd here! i'm a cellbit main, with frequent backup from tazercraft and fit! i jump povs a lot though, and i care a lot about lore events, so i'm always down to watch just about anyone. (i've watched a lot of etoiles, tubbo, antoine, roier, jaiden, foolish, bbh, and baghera clips, for example!)

making a tags masterlist below this (because things got out of hand on here VERY quickly lmaoooo) i'll add tags as things happen!

i'll make a fic/studies masterlist soon, as well!

GENERAL TAGS

qsmp qsmp memes | qsmp quotes | qsmp clips qsmp liveblogging | qsmp vodblogging qsmp headcanons | qsmp theory qsmp fanart | qsmp fic | qsmp drabble character study | breakdown qmongus | qatching up (when i miss a lot) opq | ordem paranormal the great brazil meetup qsmp recap

[just wanted to put a quick notice here! i know i'm doing these little recaps, but i don't generally catch everyone and every stream. and i don't pretend to! which is why if there's ever something i missed/explained incorrectly (or if you just want to go even further in depth about whatever pov you watched) please feel free to explain more in the rbs and/or tags!!! i always love reading the stuff because at the end of the day i'm invested in everyone's lore, but there's only so much i can catch. :') i'll always reblog it with the same #qsmp recap tag as usual!! &lt;;3]

CHARACTER TAGS

qsmp antoine | qsmp arin qsmp bagi | qsmp baghera | qsmp bbh | qsmp bobby qsmp cellbit | qsmp chayanne | qsmp cucurucho qsmp dapper qsmp elquackity | qsmp etoiles qsmp felps | qsmp fit / qsmp fitmc | qsmp foolish | qsmp forever qsmp german | qsmp goddesses (mine, mumza, lore) qsmp jaiden | qsmp juanaflippa qsmp leo | qsmp luzu qsmp mariana | qsmp maxo | qsmp mike | qsmp missa | qsmp mouse | qsmp myo (hope / memory) qsmp niki qsmp pac | qsmp philza | qsmp pierre | qsmp pol | qsmp pomme qsmp quackity qsmp ramon | qsmp richarlyson | qsmp rivers | qsmp roier qsmp slimecicle qsmp tallulah | qsmp tazercraft | qsmp tina | qsmp tilin | qsmp trumpet | qsmp tubbo qsmp walter-bob | qsmp wilbur | qsmp willy

DUO TAGS

guapoduo | pissa | fitpac | hideandseektrio | 4halo | createtrio | pacman | seekduo

PLOT TAGS

disappearances (TW: KIDNAPPING – kidnappings) the federation are evil (federation-related) 00100001 (code related) isla quesadilla (history of the island)

pl;fuga (fuga impossivel—tazercraft, cellbit, felps) pl;childhood (TW: KIDNAPPING / CHILD ABUSE – baghera's past) pl;anarchy (fit's past) pl;presidency (forever's term) pl;paradise (fit's lore) pl;missing (missing federation employee) pl;bluebird (jaiden's past) pl;existence (TW: POSSESSION[?] – romero richas) pl;perfection (TW: DRUG USAGE – federation happy pills) pl;worse (whatever this black concrete/evilrucho thing is)

ev;chainsaw (yeah i have so much angst about this it needs its own tag shush) ev;corruption (TW: MANIPULATION – cellbit's corruption arc) ev;fedescape (cellbit & felps) ev;manipulation (cellbit's original black box missions) ev;jaidens (the dungeon, first and second times) ev;dinner (the election dinner) ev;jailbreak (TW: JAIL – tazercraft) ev;resgate (TW: KIDNAPPING – pac's disappearance/rescue) ev;arrival (arrival of nine new members) ev;memory (TW: MISSING EGGS – cellbit's forgotten egg investigation) ev;arena (etoiles arena fight) ev;watchtower (TW: KIDNAPPING – mike's disappearance/rescue/whatever the hell is wrong with him now) ev;hatch (TW: MISSING EGGS – whatever tf is happening to the eggs/couch codes—events may not be related though kgjfs)

[the1stloner]

Bro I need a fic where Hangman wears a croptop (could be like a dare or he just felt like it- i don’t rlly care) and rooster goes fucking crazy over it and he does it for about a week or smth bfr rooster tries to corner him, but then hangman just kinda puts a finger to his lips after an intense make-out session and says “take me to dinner first lieutenant” or smth along those lines and he just leaves him there hard. You can do whatever u want after that I just want this pls tag me or link me the comments if u write this or smth like this already exist like I don’t rlly care but I would prefer around 3k words or more doesn’t rlly matter tho

[rustedhearts]

hello rolly, i hope u are well and i know you finished an essay so congrats for that! small pebbles build the mountain and all that! This q isn't really about ur fics so if it's too hefty or ur not interested, no worries!

for your divider q: here's the google image link if u want to cite the headers or see more options: https://www.freepik.com/premium-vector/hand-drawn-ornamental-winter-dividers-snowflakes-borders-christmas-holiday-decor-floral-ornate-dividers_10546712.htm

I saw you say you wrote a summary essay for Yusef Komunyakaa's " Nude Interrogation". I don't want to make you repeat your essay or anything like that, i know as much as anyone how side hobbies like blogs exist to take ur mind off school/work/life, so again, pls feel free to ignore if ur not into it! I just wanted to say that I thought it was really interesting that you chose that poem, not only because it's a very good poem obviously, but also because it seems to be a really good example of inspiration for your kind of writing. Obviously the subject matter is wildly different, but both ur writing, and this poem in particular, do a lot of poetry in prose rather than like lyrical, and the immense dedication to detail in the setting itself is what gives the emotional resonance of the story is a common feature. Again, it's not an exact match and I don't want to make any claims on your inspo or anything, it's just a feature i noticed when u brought the poem up and i thought back to when i read it for a class a couple semesters ago.

If you don't mind me sharing, i really like the last line of the poem. as i'm sure you already know, the narrator "undressing" by telling the truth about his actions in Vietnam and the kind of "necessary" cruelty demanded by war after Angelica has taken her clothes off and bared her own vulnerability is so subtle but still so well done, and it always makes me think about how much it takes to tell people about your mistakes, your flaws, the things you regret, yet how much those things do ultimately need to be shared, even just to take some weight off your shoulders, or to connect and be honest with the angelic girl in your bed. But it doesn't make it any less horribly hard, and saying it in the dark, after she's turned off the blacklight, when you can't see the shock on their face, is probably the only bearable way to do it! I'm sure you have much more interesting things to say about the poem but i really, really wanted to share my half baked thoughts on it, so thank you for listening to my small soapbox. My favourite poem by his is probably "Kindness" though (https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/41786/kindness-56d22013a8d03). A good reminder of its utmost necessity, especially when we seem bent on taking cruel actions in a cruel world.

it's funny you say that about "nude interrogation," because actually it's closely related to my novel, which deals with the Vietnam War in certain aspects! it's the exact reason I chose this particular poem to write about. I wasn't a huge fan of Thieves of Paradise overall (I detest unnecessary obscurement and "the profound" for the sake of being profound) but I really enjoyed this poem.

I enjoyed few other poems from that collection, but can admit Komunyakaa is a talented poet!

my essay also discussed whether the italicized "dialogue" from Angelica were actualized or fictionalized words. I think they're a byproduct of the speaker's paranoia.

it's fun to talk academia sometimes! I need to remind everyone that I'm an academic scholar and not just a lil pink fairy writing fanfic about hot, angry men lolllll

[cassandrasdreamworlds]

i am SO sorry i saw this so late lmao but @violaceum-vitellina-viridis tagged me in a self promo tag game! (which they stole from @inexplicifics apparently xD)

to encourage some self promo, how about sharing your top fics no matter how big or small - give us the links to your wonderful words with the Most hits/Most kudos/Most comments/Most bookmarks /Most words/Least words

I already know which fic is gonna come out on top regardless of category xD which means i will just leave out the top fic in the following categories so i dont slap in the link for my big fic 5 times in a row lmao

MOST HITS: very unsurprising but also still surprising because I never thought it would get that big but it's my fic from every height I’d fall I’d call a DC|Batfam fic with fucked up time wibbly wobbly reincarnation and slow build

MOST KUDOS: VERY surprising because i basically never check my stats page and didnt notice this fic sneak itself that high (except yknow. every height) but its bathroom break or a statistically unlikely number of kids stacked into a bathroom which is my DC|Batkids comedy crack fic and a take on the Wayne GalaTM trope

MOST COMMENTS: ... huh well I do get a decent amount of comments tbh but this one did surprise me a lot. it's (after every height) i’ll scream, but you won’t hear - ‘forget me not’  which is the third part in a series featuring an amnesiac Witcher AU - as in yes most of the characters forgot Jaskier the Bard has ever existed. it is VERY angst and mind the tags but i have since abandoned the series, though the first part can be read without reading the series if you dont mind a sad ending

MOST BOOKMARKS: in first... AFTER every height and bathroom break are at the moment two fics tied at 149 bookmarks the first one is in wonderment, at you and yours which is a Witcher fic with Geralt/Jaskier, 6k words of smut and strength kink the second is dragonology a DC|Batfam fic where Tim after getting injured and his body going "nope ive had enough" finds out that he's actually a dragon shifter

MOST WORDS: i don't think i can actually get around explicitly mentioning every height here since it is my longest fic and getting longer with atm 60k, second in line is we'll all be the weak and the weary sometime a rare pair Witcher fic with Regis/Roche - yes the vampire Regis and yes Vernon Roche of the Blue Stripes from TW2 and TW3, it's got 17k and is a short developing relationship fic and with the best meet ugly ive written so far

LEAST WORDS: .................................. do I. do I have to. really? ughhhhhh okay I'll link it if ONLY for baby Cas who was very proud of it - anyway comfort a Yuri on Ice fluff Yuuri/Viktor piece that I wrote when I was like. what? 16? pls keep that in mind if you do read it but my advice is. don't xDDD

tagging: @brothebro @childoffantasy @1flyingcat @ironhoshi @itsfirecat @howdidthisevenhappenanyway @bard-llama and anyone else who wants to spread some self promo around!

[apompkwrites]

Hello! A rather new follower here, I love your blacksheep au! sibling angst fuels my soul for whatever reason heh. From what I've seen a lot of people share their own ideas for your work, I'm not exactly sure if there's a certain schedule where people can talk to you about their own blacksheep au/ocs, so I'm sorry if I'm asking outside it– but may I introduce to you; Blacksheep!Yuu (if already done then feel free to ignore it-)

I kinda have a vague idea of what Blacksheep!Yuu could be, I've thought about it for bit and I thought, what if they struggle with some identity crisis or something similar? They feel as if they're just a replacement for when Yuu doesn't feel like playing main character, and as if they're just a copy of many other people, not having a real personality of their own. (Slightly linked to the Yuuniverse thing)

They feel like they aren't real, but at the same time- very real, when they're watching Yuu and the others, they feel like the audience, aware of everything in and behind the scenes, and wonder how come no one else questions the things they do, and end up feeling like they just, don't exist? like they aren't meant to be here yet, only meant to appear as a backup actor when something happens to Yuu.

But they never bring it up to anybody, because what if when they do, everyone thinks they're overreacting or crazy? As if they had broken a rule or the fourth wall, and they'e kinda jealous of Yuu for not having that kind of problem– not even a personality.

Because of this they kinda view everyone as fake, only characters, and if ever meeting the other blacksheeps, they're kinda, relieved? That others also feel just like a replacement or a side character, someone who isn't supposed to exist but does, and others who just, one way or another, don't fit in.

Again if there's already a Blacksheep!Yuu then feel free to ignore this– Ps, if you do the anon names thing, may I be Froggy Anon? or just 🐸 anon is fine if there already is one. (Pps; I really love your au because I have a twst oc who'd get along with them– though still not a fully fleshed out oc, there's a lot of being ignored and sibling betrayal going on)

That's the end of my thoughts, sorry if I bothered you or somehow sent the ask to the wrong blog– Take care!

welcome welcome!! 100% feel free to share ideas here! no schedule, juts info dump :DD

i feel like this version of black sheep yuu would get along with the idea of clover!(name)? like the one who makes their entire personality the same as trey's :O

also also they would probably get along really well with the other version of black sheep yuu we have :D (the one that goes to rsa instead)

i can imagine this version of yuu attempting to have their own personality? maybe like joining some of the clubs on campus or talking with other people from different dorms but none of it seems to work. until maybe doing this lets them meet some of the black sheep :D

gives me a lot of "spectating yuu" vibes on wattpad/quotev by aveholic /pos!!! good fic check it out pls

and yes yes welcome froggy anon :DD

[v3ggyqu33n]

This is my first tumblr post, so pls don't bully me. Or do. This is the internet, I can't tell you what to do.

So basically I've written a fanfic a while ago but it didn't go well and I never finished it, but I had an amazing idea that's probably being done before but I love the trope and I'm hoping someone sees this and either takes inspo or gives some kind of feedback lol.

Its pretty much y/n slander and making an OC that is the complete opposite to the unrealistic traits of the short, blonde, half-werewolf, half-vampire, half-mermaid, half-mutant who has Wanda's powers but stronger and is also princess of the faeries and Goddess of the forest. I really want to flip her on her head and make a fic where she is absolutely despised, and an OC is trying to exist around her and is just sick of her bullshit. Add in a popular character like Harry Styles or Loki or Edward, (who also hate y/n and are now her ex) and I've never been more excited to write.

Anyway I wrote down some random dot points in the middle of the night, and now I get to bless the void with them. Enjoy! Or don't :)

- genderfluid masc OC character

- fem character with initials Y.N.

- Y.N. is stereotypical Y/N self-insert character with all of her strange qualities commonly found in the chatacter

- stereotype male fanfic character who is commonly found in y/n first person pov fics

- Y.N. is comically overpowered yet cringe attention seeker who thinks the world is out to get her yet also thinks everyone loves her

- masc OC is the opposite of Y.N.

- OC is realistic and logical

- OC has a decent home life and TWO LIVING PARENTS (with a sensible amount of complexity found in an average family)

- all characters hate Y.N. but she is oblivious and thinks she is better than everyone else

- Male character Is Y.N.'s ex and hated the relationship

- he bonds with OC over talking shit about her

- their friendship isn't forced into a relationship and instead they stay friends and OC doesn't coerce the other character into showing vulnerability like Y.N. did

- maybe smut or friends with benefits, but no full on relationship

- they do like to read together tho 💛

Yeah so that's what I've got so far, ta-da!

Oh and if there are some good fics like this already, please please bless me with a link, I love nothing more than a sarcastic petty fic. Or keep your secret fanfic jems, it's not like I can do anything about it.

And go drink some water, bitch.

[agreenseil]

Fic Idea:

reincarnation cycle with a pair (or group, but pairs sounds easier to organize), but instead of dramatic tragedy until the Canon life, they're just being besties and picking up hobbies that carry on to the next life

for example, zosan (not in any chronological order):

rivalry on sight (obviously)

sanji learns to cook because he met zoro in an alley eating a yellow thing that definitely shouldn't be fuzzy like that

zoro's the feral bodyguard bc while pretty boi Sanji can hold his own, should he have to???

crap, I cant think of anything else. this all came from that one YT short about past lives but it wasn't fancy or dramatic cycles

they're just hanging out in a yard, harassing chickens and squirrels

sanji keeps his knives hidden away after the doctor tried to use them to "treat" zoro's dying via plague (yoinked scene from the Short)

is that dramatic? yes, but it kinda suits them lol

also example, nami and usopp:

disaster lesbian nami, disaster bi usopp

usopp talking bout a girl he met and rejected and nami asks why and lists all the good things and usopp's like, "why don't you date her then??" and nami's like "wait, I can do that?" bc historical whatevers and usopp's like, "yeah." and nami's like "okay, bet" and then usopp regrets it bc nami cant stop waxing poetic about her partners but also he doesnt regret it bc bestie happy = you happy

and then he finds a hot guy with great muscles and oh, how the turns have tabled

also art buddies

be gay, do crime. nami does the thieving thing with usopp sometimes

isnt it nice to have someone so resourceful?

Also I think Robin should be in one too but idk who with.

Mayhaps Brook. I rlly liked that one fic where Robin dreams of Brook's ship while on the run and Brook sometimes gets this kid on his ghost ship and he cant tell if he's hallucinating and they do the friendship

Robin and Brook at a fair, robin stops to listen to his street performance after they reached for the same book at one of the stands

they don't even know each others names yet but they had a nicer day after meeting each other

in the next life, Robin listens to violin and piano music while she reads, though she can never find the same jaunty tune

brook performs in all the book related events he can find, tailors his style into something fun, but chill enough not to distract you from your book

maybe in canon he visits ohara to perform accompanying music? 👀✨ and robin finds her friend sooner

franky and chopper:

franky, who makes himself into a type of monster

and chopper, who didnt want to be a monster, but learns to accept it

idk how this will work, actually, I just think they complement each other

forgive me, I know nothing about jinbei ;w; I welcome your thoughts about him

and luffy seems to be someone who would be in all of their lives, but he's so bright I think that would make a big impact in their lives

oh! what if he is always there but hinted in the background details because he's not in the pairing

and then he gets his pov scenes where it ties all those hints together and does the fluff and his crew realizes that he had always been there and ahhhh I'm very happy and definitely not going to be writing this anytime soon.

anyone who wants to adopt this idea is free to do so :] pls call me over when you do so I can read it ✨

or if it already exists and you have the link 👀

[izukuwus]

Actually just for like nuance purposes bc I'm sure OP of that post is probably annoyed as hell by the notes already but I HAVE to nuance this shit since there's a lot I want to add to that post, re: ao3 etiquette

kudos when you feel like it. different people use kudos for different reasons. I use them because I actually liked the fic. it's like giving a thumbs-up. apparently some people just use it to say they finished it. that's not standard, there is no standard. consider it like a facebook "like" in that it kind of ticks a number up but doesn't really tell you anything further than that.

comment when you feel like it. it's nice to do. a lot of authors enjoy comments that aren't worded super rudely and will enjoy anything from "<3" to "asdkljfhdksljfhdjksh" to an essay about why you loved it.

"pls update" comments are a toss-up. some people love em, some people hate em, some are ambivalent. comment how you like but understand that some people see requests to update as pushing them along while others think of them as really nice reminders that that fic they've been avoiding eye contact with IS liked by people, and it's difficult to tell which a particular fic author will be.

general rule of thumb: if they didn't ask for concrit, they probably will consider it rude if you give it. before you start whining in the notes, yes it's the internet and you can do what I want, you're very entitled I get it. it's still rude to walk up to someone painting on the street or something and tell them how they can do x y and z better when they didn't fucking ask. no matter how combative you get over the right you do have to be an asshole on the internet, you are still being an asshole. some people on the internet are kids. sometimes a fic is intensely personal to someone. sometimes they're just starting out. sometimes they're just having fun and not particularly interested in learning the nitty gritty of grammar and story structure. sometimes they just didn't fucking ask because they don't want it. you're never going to make it not rude by insisting on leaving concrit anyway. if you really really want to, there's a really simple solution: leave a comment POLITELY asking them whether they'd be open to constructive criticism, and then respect the answer they give you. in this case, silence is an answer, too.

metas and theories are allowed under TOS. ao3 is for "noncommercial, non-ephemeral fanwork... that is fannish in nature". ao3's faq explicitly calls out meta as allowed under TOS.

what is not allowed under ao3 tos: "help me find this fic!" requests posted as "fanworks", links to or mentions of donations or patreons/monetizing fic, posting a request for someone else to write a fic/rp with you as a fic, posting straight fic prompts

ao3 has a goal of "maximum inclusiveness". it was created with the express intention of allowing "as many fanworks as possible". it was created in response to fanworks on other sites being removed for "decency", "moral reasons" (anything from "this is harmful because the characters are x age" to "this suggests the existence of queer people"), or simply not being appealing to advertisers.

you are in fact responsible for your own reading experience. if you find something you don't like, the back button is always there. tags exist for a reason. if you think it's morally reprehensible or whatever, okay, cool, hit the back button. it's not for you.

from the ao3 tos faq: "One basic consequence is that users are responsible for reading and heeding the warnings provided by the creator. Risk-averse users should keep in mind that not all content will carry full warnings. If you want to know more, you may also wish to consult the bookmarks that people other than the creator have used to categorize the fanwork." (emphasis native to faq)

that being said, if it's very obviously incorrectly tagged ie "gen rating on a fic with explicit sex and gore in it" you would be within your rights to ask them to update the tags accordingly and/or report the fic.

subscribe whenever you want even if the fic is complete I promise you unless the author is super obsessive they likely won't even notice let alone think it's weird

delete your fics if you want. you're not required to keep them up. it'd be nice if you orphaned it or added it to the anonymous collection instead for others to read, and I personally would encourage you to do so as I've personally regretted a lot of fic deletions I've made, but it is your content and you don't have to let it be archived forever if you decide that you hate it/it's no longer representative of you/etc.

character/character is indeed intended for romantic/sexual pairings. character & character is intended for platonic pairings. most people searching the '&' tag for a ship tend to be annoyed if you tag a fic with both unless it's explicitly intended to be read either way, because they are in the & ship tag because they DON'T want romantic and/or sexual content for the involved characters.

the only tagging you are required to do is ratings and specific basic warnings, however you are also allowed to use "not rated" and "creator chose not to use archive warnings". tagging helps people find your fic and also helps people who aren't right for your fic avoid your fic, so it would be nice to do more than just rating + archive warnings for your sake and others, but at the end of the day, it's your choice.

if tagging confuses you, my rule of thumb is "would someone in x tag who found this fic be annoyed that it had this tag?" and "what would someone looking for this fic generally be searching for, tag-wise, to find this?"

ao3 is not social media. there is not an algorithm. there will never be an algorithm. it is a place for storing fan content from basically any fandom. the closest thing to an algorithm is the front page of recently updated fics for a fandom, and it's extremely poor taste to use tricks to stay on the front page. depending on the fandom, it's also an extremely losing battle. (eg. there have been days where I've posted a bnha fic and it was IMMEDIATELY pushed down to page three of the fandom simply bc the fandom's so big.) I recommend posting your fic and then going to like take a shower or take a nap or something to step away.

[nohaijiachi]

So I decided to join tumblr again in hopes of finding good Mohg/Morgott content, since I started working on a Mohg-centric fic and I've only been able to gush about them to a friend who's not really into ER (bless them for their patience); this is less an ask and more me wanting to say "Thank you for existing and posting stuff!" even if you may not be hyperfixating on them anymore <3

[[but also: I was considering making a little discord server for Mohg ships...if that's already a thing I'd be very interested 0w0]]

Thank you so much <3 I know the struggle, I've also been gushing about our Omen babies to my friends who now know too much about ER through sheer osmosis lmao I am very much still very fixated on them, just... Life been keeping me busy ;_; I'm also more active on a twitter side account dedicated exclusively to the Boys(tm) since the nsfw/explicit content situation on tumblr is still very much??? A mess??? So yeah, I just posted a doodle there a few hours ago lol (if anybody wants the link to said account have no fear to reach out, just know that it is very much explicit so user discretion is advised and all that jazz) I have no clue in regards to discord servers situation lmao, I admittedly very much tend to stay in my bubble generally speaking..... but if a server dedicate to my two fav Omen twins does exist pls let me know because I might just come lurk or something lol

[blueisquitetired]

hiii yes i just wanna ask if you could like tl:dr the pokemon bond system you use bc i RLLY like it but the fic you linked for it is like 50k words and hhsnnsnd i don.t. have time to read that rn ;w; srry if youve already answered something like this btw i just am rlly interested in it pls

Hello! Sorry for the verrrrrrrry late reply- I use mobile and apparently this ask only shows up on desktop? Quite annoying, and I'm sure you've long stopped caring about the answer to this question- but I'll answer it anyway because I love talking about lore so much

(Believe it or not the fic I linked is not required reading! It's just the inspiration that I drew from- and giving credit is important to me.)

Humans should have died out a long time ago. It's a simple fact really- how can such squishy, unremarkable creatures keep up with the magical monsters around them?

But that's the thing- they can keep up, and they have.

Because humans, above all else, are adaptable.

And so, when they bond with a pokemon, enjoy that pokemon's company for long periods of time- it leaves a mark, a change so subtle most cannot tell it exists at all.

Well most of the time.

There is a large overlap between adaptations and bonds. Adaptation requires exposure- requires a human to be subjected to a pokemon's magic again and again.... which is most likely to occur between a trainer and pokemon. This is something we've observed many times throughout history- psychic type trainers becoming supernatural themselves, ghost type trainers acquiring the sight, fairy type trainers... well, you get the picture.

Of course, that isn't really what you asked about did you?

Bonds differ from pokemon to pokemon. For some, it's more of an intangible thing, a growing understanding of their trainer, a more seamless partnership. For others, it's more literal, binding their souls together so that they cannot be separated, so that they will always be connected.

It depends heavily on the pokémon's type, species, and overall demeanor.

There's different strengths of bonds too!

Partners carry the strongest bond of course, an understanding between trainer and pokemon that no one else could hope to match.

A trainer's other pokemon carry a deep connection as well, even if it cannot match the might of a partner.

Pokemon that are not their own can leave a small mark on the soul just from proximity and fondness. These marks are so small that they are hardly consequential, just whispers of something that could be.

And then there's blessings.

Because legendaries love picking blorbos just as much as we do. (Almost every major trainer gains a small legendary blessing eventually. They rarely actually do anything, being more of the world's holiest game of 'dibs'. Even the divine get bored you know?)