#oblivious cloud

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

You know what I haven’t seen yet?? A dark Zack au. Or at least, a dark zack pre Nibelheim au. Zack’s gone dark from the trauma in the aftermath a couple times from what I’ve seen.

Also I’m pretty sure I’m fucking up the timeline with this one but shut up! I’m tryna do something here.

Anyway! But Zack right? Still his cheery, puppy self that everyone loves and looks up to and blah blah blah. But! He loses Angeal and something in his head kinda snaps. Not like out of the blue snapped but last straw sort of snap yeah?

He’s still making his way through his day to day, this dark little pit festering inside of him and only ever being fully realised when he’s out in the field on solo missions. He obliterates the monsters he’s sent after. Quite literally leaves no trace of the Wutai soldiers he comes across but none of it is enough to sate the near endless bloodlust in him.

The company use it to their advantage, sending him on the more dangerous missions that they can’t risk sending Sephiroth on for one reason or another. Never question why he takes them so readily and never ask what happens to the bodies of the Wutai soldiers. They just let it be.

But then Zack meets Cloud, and when the blond takes his helmet off for the first time Zack feels like a light is being shone on that festering pit, slowly withering it away with just a smile.

He feels like the old Zack again. The one from before Angeal died and he still had all these high hopes and big dreams.

But then Cloud’s putting the helmet back on cause Tseng is coming toward them and Zack feels fucking feral. Very suddenly wants to run the Turk through with the buster sword just so Cloud doesn’t have to wear the helmet. Suddenly feels like the pit is creeping further up now that the light is gone.

The only thing stopping him is the sight of Cloud sticking close to him at the front of the pack. Keeping up quiet chatter when appropriate and still flashing him tiny smiles.

It’s not nearly enough and Zack wants to rip the helmet from his head. See those baby blues go wide with emotion as he runs his fingers through his hair. But he bites his tongue till there’s blood and smiles through it, pretends he’s the same as always so he doesn’t scare Cloud away.

They’ve only just met but Zack can’t live without him. Needs him in his life always and will go to any lengths necessary to ensure it. He just needs to play his cards right so Cloud falls into his arms willingly and won’t want to run away. It should be easy.

[rocketbirdie]

What was Zack and Cloud 1st kiss like, where did it happen and when? Also, who did the 1st move?

I'm gonna be evil and say that they never got to have a real first kiss before Zack's death. He would give Cloud the occasional smooch on the forehead while he was in his coma, but he didn't want to overstep any boundaries despite knowing full well that he was stupidly in love with him.

As for a Zack lives au though... Cloud wakes up already acclimated to Zack's clinginess and takes Zack's smooch attacks like a champ. But seeing as he's dense as a tungsten cube, he fails to realize that Zack loves him??? Eventually the past few years catch up to him and Cloud has a little breakdown, which Zack gets to cure with a real kiss for once.

[im-tops-bottom]

Felix, crawling on the bed sensually: Darling I want you to take me to new heights

Chan, licks his lips: Sure baby girl

-moments later-

Felix, shaking with his eyes closed: THIS IS NOT WHAT I MEANT

Chan, screaming excitedly as he holds Felix's hand: BUT BABY BOY THIS IS THE HEIGHEST I CAN TAKE YOU

The Gyrodrop: *drops*

[wet-leaves]

only now realized that a photo of a bay i took two days ago shows smoke from crocus hall burning

[dark-elf-writes]

I literally threw my hands up like I was starting a wave at a game. This is so perfect.

*slaps omegaverse agszc* you can fit so many kinks in this baby.

[aeide-thea]

tbh every time a feelings meme goes around i'm like, okay but honestly who really knows how they feel abt anybody until you actually touch faces and realize 'oh i like/don't like this actually'

[cloudbattrolls]

Conquest, Set Forth

Ginger Mycoba | Present Night

This drabble is preceded by The Starfish and the Flame and followed by Glass Among Murk, Part 1.

Alternia’s southern hemisphere: freezing as its top half melted. In a field of mostly dead grass, the world was quiet except for the chittering of a few night animals that faded away as a tall, armored troll rode a white horse - gray, if one wanted to be traditional about it - drew close to them.

Specifically, the pair drew close to what would, to most trolls, look like a ring of frostbitten mushrooms.

An irate voice with no visible speaker came from the circle of fungi as horse and rider came within a few feet of it.

“You’re late, Pestilence.”

“Oops.” Acknowledged Ginger, their tone carrying an amount of concern that might have been located with a strong magnifying glass.

The unbothered horseman patted their steed on his face as they dismounted and let him go off to graze on whatever he could find; being a supernatural creature, he could manage on what would be unpalatable to a normal animal.

It was nice to actually ride Dunny; when they were going around for their job it was a lot more efficient to travel by truck. He tended to gnaw on them for his enforced loneliness after long stretches unsummoned, but their ride tonight had put him in a better mood.

“You’re always late.”

“Maybe I won’t be next time.” Responded the hemoanon blithely.

“Maybe if you had a drop of respect in you, you wouldn’t be.”

“Big if true.” They replied, carefully stepping in the circle.

It was the same place - the same mushroom ring - but now it was darker, colder, and around the mushroom ring rose ancient thrones of dark wood. The place was illuminated by clumps of luminescent moss and fungi clinging to the dark trees that now sprung from the dry, cracked earth, but the shadows here were thicker. Watchful. 

Alive. 

Fae sat in the dozen-odd thrones, varied in form, but all unmistakably non-troll.

Ginger took their bloodline’s traditional seat - a diseased and withered stump of a once-great tree, the wood spongy beneath them - and plucked a Frappuccino from their sylladex.

The fae looked at it, shuffling in their seats, wings and antennae rustling. The sweet smell of it was a nice change from the faint odor of dead old wood, of decay that never progressed. 

“Mortal drink, in our realm?” One said disdainfully. “You offend us.”

“Cool.” Said the armored troll, sticking a straw into the slightly melted vanilla beverage and starting to drink it despite not lowering their facial mask whatsoever. Magic was handy that way.

More muttering, but Ginger knew that a) there was nothing they could do b) most of them didn’t really care. It was a pretense, as most things were with fae. 

The canine fae on the largest throne lounged placidly, but her many black and yellow eyes had a sharp gaze.

They rested on Ginger’s whitish blue eyes with their fractured pupils, which returned her attention evenly.

“Winter court, and Pestilence.” She said sharply. “Let us commune, for there is corruption in our lands.”

“Yes! The horror spawn.” Said the fae who had disdained Ginger’s Frappuccino, one that looked more like a giant cicada crossed with a troll than anything.

“We got a horrorterror problem?” Rumbled Ginger with amusement. “I haven’t gotten any imperial alerts. What’s the issue?”

“It is a subtle one, Pestilence…he may not realize what he is doing.” Said the canine fae, her long tail waving slowly back and forth. “For all things, there is a reaction.”

“For all things there is balance.” Murmured the rest of the fae in unison. “Winter to summer. Frost to flame. Disease to health.”

Ginger had a feeling they knew what this was about, but they weren’t going to help the others get there, even if it made the meeting longer.

“Every time he restores a place, this growthling, it is changed. Perhaps he doesn’t realize it…doesn’t understand he is causing the world to go out of turn, slowly but surely.”

“Bacterial mass?” Asked Ginger.

“Bacterial mass.” Confirmed the canine. “They are starting to overgrow, simply from the aura left behind. He thinks he has tidied up after himself, perhaps, but he doesn’t understand.”

That sounded likely to the hemoanon, what with how meticulous the guy was. If it was the guy they were thinking of, which they would bet several games of poker on. 

“A pity…his signmate does. We have no issue with Zanzul Varzim. She wanders, ensuring there is no dangerous lasting impact to her presence. He meddles with the world. Just like his ancestor.” 

The armored troll didn’t miss the trace of bitterness in the fae’s voice at the mention of some long-ago Varzim.

Sometimes being right sucked.

“What do you plan to do?” Asked the hemoanon.

All the fae looked at him.

“You are tasked with stopping him, Pestilence. You can neutralize the hybrid. We will provide assistance if necessary.”

“You want him dead already?” Stated the muscular troll, deadpan. “No negotiation?”

“You may try to talk him down.” The winter court noble conceded. “If he doesn’t acquiesce, he must be destroyed. We are all the cold diseases of power, all the frigid ends of trollkind, every careless winter death. There are enough of us. There need not be another. His works must not create a new strain.”

She looked at the others, who in turn nodded their heads at her.

“We will also settle for him being stripped of his powers.”

“You ever try to unmake a hybrid?” Asked Ginger, neutral and blunt. “Especially that type? I’d be causing mass molecular degradation. Safe disposal alone would be a daymare. I’d need the court’s full support.”

“You will have it, if it is truly necessary.” Responded the woman smoothly.

“I don’t know yet.” Said the horseman. “I’ll try to talk him down.”

“What makes you think you can reason with horror spawn?” Curiosity and amusement mingled in a different fae’s voice.

Ginger scratched an ear as they noisily tried to suck up the last of their Frappuccino through the straw. Minor teleportation magic: never leave hive without it. 

“I have a funny feeling.” 

They knew better than to explain that they were already acquainted with Thrixe Varzim. 

“Do you have to make such an awful noise?” Hissed a fae who resembled a water beetle crossed with a horse. Maybe some kind of kelpie.

“It’s a good drink.” They said, deadpan as usual.

“You are disgusting.”

“I don’t think any of us have a ton of stones to throw from our glass hives.”

The fae looked confused, and the horseman knew it was not only because of their troll saying but because the winter court did not perceive themselves as at all disgusting.

Not that Ginger blamed them. They had always been this way, ever since their diseases and domains had existed. 

Ginger knew they themself were disgusting by any troll’s standards, even if they only infected others by choice, not default. 

Hence the armor. Hence the mask.

Sometimes they envied the fae their uncomprehending ignorance, their complete lack of care toward guarding others against what they were. They did not know shame. They did not care what fae from different courts thought of them, let alone trolls.

Not that Ginger was ashamed, really. It was easier this way. 

“Any last words of warning for me?” They said, looking around the circle. “Tips? Tricks? Jokes? Limericks?”

The varied faces present looked at them with what was probably mild disdain. None of them were high enough castes of fae to really get troll humor. 

Except the canine, who looked at him with amusement, if also mild frustration. 

The shadows - conversely, the lowest order of sapient fae - swirled around her throne. 

“Take this seriously, Pestilence.” She chided.

“I am so serious forever.” The hemoanon deadpanned in return.

“You have a flippant tongue your ancestor lacked. It may be torn out some night.” The words were soft, pleasant in tone even, but there was no doubt they were sincere. 

“I’m young and fiery.” Said the hundred and thirty sweep-odd horseman. “Give me time.”

They put their empty drink cup in their sylladex. They weren’t one for littering, and doing so here could be deadly. 

“Ciao for now.”

The hemoanon got up and stepped back into the mushroom ring, and regular Alternia was restored.

Except that a woman was waiting for them, a woman in blue and teal clothing.

Her eyes were black, except for her yellow pupils, and her dreadlocks were done up in a bun. She was shorter than Ginger’s seven foot bulk, but not by much.

“You know him.”

It wasn’t a question.

The hemoanon shrugged, and whistled for their steed. Dunny was good at coming quickly when he was called, and sure enough, trotted over in seconds. His lively, warm animal smell was reassuring after the deadness of the winter fae realm. 

“I know lots of people, Cyvell.” Offered Ginger as they mounted the animal, who snorted at the disguised fae. It was true enough.

She eyed the horse, covered in sores and scars as his master was under their gray-blue armor.

“Do not let sentiment cloud your judgment, Pestilence.”

“When have I ever.” Deadpanned the hemoanon. 

They raced off with a clatter of hooves, followed by the eyes of the fae until distance swallowed the pair up into the night.

[gallusrostromegalus]

I was raised agnostic and tend to remain ambiguous on theological matters.

-but my house has a porch on the second story that affords me a terrific view of my neighborhood and the Colorado Front Range and I was partaking of some peace before the 4th Of July Finger-Loss Festivities begin, and I have had a

~*Spiritual Experience*~

I just watched my neighbor try to unload an actual wooden pallet that had to have been forklifted into the back of his insecurity pickup worth of fireworks.

Except that he does not have a forklift in his garage.

He does have so much sports memorabilia and cardboard boxes of unsold MLM Merchandise and patriotically themed camping gear and posters of women in bikinis and flags of suspect political organizations in his garage that there is only BARELY enough space for the fireworks and certainly none for his truck.

So he had to unload the individual boxes of recreational explosives from the back of his truck and stack them in the minimal space he had cleared by hand. This is a tedious and time-consuming process as this neighbor has purchased a wide variety of recreational and locally illegal explosives instead of many of just a few types, so the individual boxes are rather small.

He begins, and this is crucial to what happens next, by cutting apart the industrial-grade saran wrap his explosives dealer had so carefully wrapped his merchandise in, and discarded it unsecured on his lawn.

Where Outdoor Conditions sometimes happen.

His process for unloading the fireworks is to 1. Climb up through the gate into the bed of his pickup truck (a feat made unusually difficult due to the slope of his driveway, and this man's fascinating decision to wear the world's Siffest and least Flexible Denim Overalls. 2. Once in the pickup bed, he selects ONE (1) box from the pile He is apparently from a niche religious institution that doesn't believe in stacking things. 3. Carries it awkwardly around the palette that barely fits in the truck bed 4. His wife yells "Be careful!" when he nearly falls out of the pickup. 5. He Yells "SHADDUP!" back at her. 6. The Large German Shepherd barks from inside the house. 7. He yells "SHADDUP!" back at her too. 8. He sets the (1) box down on the gate 9. Slowly and awkwardly climbs out of the pickup bed 10. picks the box back up, and carries it into the garage.

Question: Aren't you going to help this poor man? Answer: Absolutely Not.

There's four military veterans, MANY dogs, and several people with dementia in this neighborhood, all of whom are terrified by this chicanery every year and many neighbors have repeatedly asked him to maybe do the fireworks somewhere else. (This is the Eighth Year Running he's held a major demolition event in his driveway, and for those of you who can do math, you may be able to guess the precipitating incident to this little ritual) Additionally, I live in Colorado, a state marginally less prone to spontaneous and catastrophic conflagrations than a rotting grain silo, but only marginally. Our recreational explosives laws are written accordingly.

I am in fact calling the Non Emergency line to report Fireworks violations, and reading off the brand labels to someone named Dorothy, who is gleefully totaling up a SPECTACULAR fine for my oblivious neighbor.

However, while I'm on the phone with Dorothy, I notice the wind begin to pick up. and by "Notice" I mean "The Industrial Saran Wrap he left on his Lawn earlier is suddenly swept up about 100 feet into the air by an updraft intense enough to make my ears pop" And by "Pick Up" I mean "I look up to see the sky has turned a fun and exciting shade of glass green, and the bottoms of the clouds are bumpy and rounded, and the overall effect is not unlike looking up through the bottom of the cup at God's Matcha Boba Tea."

For those of you who do not live in places with Inclement Weather, these conditions mean "You have about 30 seconds before a Major Meteorological Event Occurs."

I move under the eaves. "Hang on Dorothy." I say, nose filling with Petrichor. "The show is about to be cancelled." "Oh, that doesn't matter!" Dorothy cheerfully informs me. "It's illegal for him just to possess those, no matter if he actually gets to set them off or not." "Terrific, because he's gotten maybe five boxes out of a hundred inside."

Sometimes, the weather gods are Merciful and give you a verbal warning, typically in the kind of thunderclap that makes your ears ring.

The Gods were not merciful today.

It's not often that I am in the time, place, correct angle or in a properly observational frame of mind to see this, But I got to see it today. Huh. I thought. I've never seen a cloud just DIVE for the ground before. Oh. I realized as it got closer. That's RAIN.

Sometimes, a thunderstorm will form in such a way that the rain that would normally be distributed over an area of say, five to tent square miles, is instead concentrated into an area of say, my neighborhood exactly.

So today, I was granted the rare privilege of being able to actually see the literal wall of water descend from On High and DIRECTLY onto my porch, my street, and my neighbor's truck, and his pile of unwrapped fireworks.

The sheer impact force of the downpour immediately scatters the teetering pile of fireworks boxes in the back of the truck, like the wrath of God striking down the tower of Babel. Boxes tumble, then are washed out of the bed of the truck by the deluge. Smaller Boxes are carried down the road in a little line by the stream forming in the gutter, like little impotent explosive ducklings.

My neighbor was definitely yelling something, but I could not hear what over the DEAFENING noise several million gallons of water makes upon high-speed contact with the earth's surface, but there was a lot of arm-waving and faces turning red as he went looking for the saran wrap that had probably blown to Nebraska by now, while his wife started disassembling the complex three-dimensional puzzle of interlocking material goods in search of a tarp. They do not have a tarp. They have one of those wretched Thin Blue Line flags though, and my neighbor jogs out in a futile effort to cover what's left in the truck.

Which is when the hail begins.

"HELLO?" Yelled Dorothy. "HI!" I shouted. "WE'RE HAVING SOME WEATHER!" "OH GOOD!" she shouts back. "WE NEED THE MOISTURE!"

I watch for a minute longer, but the loss was immediate and catastrophic- the hail is the size of marbles and dense and cares not for your pitiful cardboard and cellophane, ripping the boxes asunder and punching holes in the few things covered in plastic. The colors on the Thin Blue Line Flag are seeping all over the remains of that it was supposed to protect in a particularly apt visual metaphor. Not even the few boxes that made it into the garage are spared, as the German Shepherd escapes from indoors, and in an attempt to assist her humans, jumps directly into the small stack of not-yet-ruined boxes, scattering them into the driveway and deluge. She even picks one up so her humans will chase her around the yard, before dropping it in the gutter to be swept away.

So. I was raised Agnostic -but even I can recognize when God slaps someone upside the head and shouts "NO!" at them.

---

(If you laughed, please consider supporting my Ko-fi or preordering my book of Strange Stories on Patreon)

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

Wait. What about Cloud who keeps trying to hook Zack and Aerith up cause all his days in Shinra were filled with Zack near constantly ranting about Aerith, and all his days travelling were spent with Aerith bringing up Zack and how he was her first love.

So now that Zack is back Cloud’s just tryna be a good friend and get out the way so they can have time together, but the two of them have also fallen for him and keep trying to woo him into joining their relationship.

[bet-on-me-13]

Vampire Misunderstanding

So! Danny got adopted by Bruce Wayne, but he doesn't know that Bruce is the Batman. He is just supernaturally oblivious to all things Batman related going on in the House.

But he does notice that Bruce leaves home a lot at night, that he doesn't like to go out in the day and often has his parties at night, and once or twice he's caught Bruce with a bit if blood still splattered on his cheek.

So he comes to the only plausible conclusion. Bruce is a Vampire.

He starts trying to hint at the fact that he knows, but doesn't want to just go out and say it. What if Bruce reacts negatively to him knowing? He's dealt with enough Supernatural Beings to know that they don't like other people (and especially other supernatural beings) intruding on their lives.

So Danny decided to subtly hint at it.

He started asking questions like "So hypothetically, how would you deal with having a Garlic Allergy in Gotham?" Or "So if you had very sensitive skin that could sunburn extremely easily, how much cloud cover would you need to go outside?" And "So what's your opinion on a High-Iron Diet?"

Basically just tossing out questions and trying to Guage Bruce's reaction.

He thinks he's doing a good job!

...

Bruce is certain that he has adopted a Vampire.

Danny is a good kid, but he has a few oddities that are hard to ignore.

For one, his skin is constantly Ice Cold, but he never seens to be bothered by it. As if he was an Undead that didn't require Body Heat anymore.

He also seems to like Hanging out in the Graveyard outside, and when asked about it he says that he is comforted by the place. Just like the Vampires he has met in the past, who feel comfortable when surrounded by Death.

And of course the biggest reason for suspicion is the fact that Danny seems to be hinting at it to him.

He keeps asking stuff like "How would you deal with a Garlic Allergy in Gotham?", probably trying to hint that he is a Vampire who can't eat Garlic, or asking about easy to sunburn skin, saying that he is probably not a Daywalker.

Bruce hopes Danny will just come clean about it soon, he doesn't want to intrude upon the kid when he is so obviously nervous about how he will react.

[wangxianficrecs]

Before the dawn by apathyinreverie

Before the dawn

by apathyinreverie (@apathyinreverie)

T, WIP, 4k, Wangxian

Summary: Where Lan Qiren reacts a little differently to Wei Wuxian’s remarks in class and, instead of punishing him, resolves to take him under his wing, intent on ensuring that Wei Wuxian’s obvious talent isn’t wasted on the wrong path. How that decision then leads to the entire cultivation world caught in a sort wooing war around Wei Wuxian, all of the sects attempting to poach him from his adopted clan, even he couldn’t tell you. - Wei Ying is simply confused, halfway convinced it must be some sort of prank for the other disciples to keep gifting him with what looks suspiciously like courting requests. Well, at least Lan Zhan doesn’t seem to have joined in on the madness. Right? Kay's comments: I really love AUs that make more use of genius Wei Wuxian and especially if they take a look at what might have happened if Lan Qiren nutured his inventing tendencies instead of being just another autority figure who punishes Wei Wuxian for his parentage during the Cloud Recesses Study arc and I really enjoyed the flavour of jealous Lan Wangji in this story as well. Excerpt: As expected, a mere few seconds later, Wei Ying appears, grin broad in his obvious excitement as he sprints along the walkways, clearly with a goal in mind. A goal which, however, is not Lan Zhan. Though, Wei Ying does slow slightly at spotting him making his way across the courtyard. “Hi Lan Zhan!” he exclaims brightly, his smile broad and honest and genuine at the sight of him, but also not pausing for so much as a second. Yelling is not permitted in the Cloud Recesses, his mind reminds succinctly. Again, he says nothing, watches as Wei Ying darts past him, a clear goal in mind, namely towards the hall where Lan Zhan knows his own uncle tends to hold council this time of day. Admittedly, Wei Ying does slow enough to pause in front of the door to said hall, announcing his presence and then waiting impatiently to be called inside. The sight of him impatiently hopping from foot to foot as he waits, so joyous and eager about showing off his newest idea to someone, grin unabating, eyes still widened excitedly with whatever he is about to present to Lan Qiren, talisman papers clutched in his hand, so obviously delighted at the mere thought of having someone to show his inventions to, someone who will listen and let him explain and even argue details and different approaches with him… The sight has something within Lan Zhan soften helplessly.

pov lan wangji, pov wei wuxian, oblivious wei wuxian, jealous lan wangji, cloud recesses study arc, mutual pining, not jiang family friendly, good person lan qiren, genius wei wuxian, inventor wei wuxian, canon divergence, falling in love

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[sunniepoo]

thinking about mean stepbro!rafe catching his cute little stepsis humping away at her pillow late into the night when everyone’s asleep ⋆ටᆼට⋆

that night was ingrained in the back of rafe’s head as if some twisted fairy carved the image of you rutting helplessly into your pillow within the crevices of his brain

it was all by complete chance. the night’s breeze gushed through the older cameron’s window awakening him to the seasonable hot hours of darkness- he couldn’t even remember what caused him to leave bed; water? needing to use the bathroom?

all that clouded his twisted mind, was walking past your room; his sweet, pure minded step sisters room. the soft little pants and uh uh’s that left your mouth filled the silent air. he almost couldn’t believe it, it felt like some perverse wet dream that centred around your poor, naive self

his body moved before his mind, his hand gently creeping up against the door, softly pulling it open- cautious to making no noise to alert his presence. it was art; the sight of seeing you move vigorously against a spare pillow, your hips rocking back and forth as your back arched back, your hands travelling up to pull and squeeze at your clothed tits, your mouth agape as the sinful sounds of pleasure leave your mouth

but the true beauty of it all was when his eyes fell down to your bare pussy, all red and puffy from the constant stimulation. you were so so so wet, you poor thing must have been so achey, so desperate

he would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted, there was nothing he wanted more than to barge in and pound that pretty pussy till you couldn’t even remember your own name - but he settled, hiding in the darkness, watching you work at your pillow late into the night. he found his hand travelling down beneath the band of his sweatpants, palming away at his hardon, small pants of pleasure escaping his mouth

you paid no notice to your surroundings completely oblivious to the shadow of the large figure behind your door until you stopped

fuck! had you seen him? has he been caught?

depsite the danger of being caught, rafe’s head peered further inside and god he nearly came at the sight.it was heavenly,the way you took of your corset like top, tits spilling out in an almost pornographic like manner. one of your small hand gliding up your stomach, eventually to come pull and twist at your cute little nipples while the other goes down to rub at your already sensitive pussy

the loud moan that left your mouth went straight to his throbbing cock, dying to be let free and make itself home in your tight cunt. he rushed to pull down his pants and boxers, freeing his large length as his hands fist around it, moving up and down at the same pace you rocked against the pillow

his mind couldn’t help but wander what if it was him underneath you instead of the pillow, the zip of his jeans catching against your sore clit just as the edges of the pillow did when you rocked forward and when you rocked back it was the friction against his bulge rather than the fluff of the pillow

he could hear that you were getting closer, your whines becoming higher as you rocked faster and faster, your hand rubbing roughly against your mound prompting him to move his fist faster up and down the length of his cock, leaking with pre cum

a soft series of curses left your mouth as you went into total bliss, hands gripping the side of your bedside table,mouth agape while a high pitched wine left your mouth and as if it was a cue for the tall blonde, he spilled out across the palm of his hand

he wondered if you ever heard the joined pants of the aftermath of both of your highs. he watched you collapse down into the warmth of your bed, the lengths of your hair stuck against your sweaty body as you breathe out, softly panting

god he wishes he could have stayed and watched your pretty pussy throb and clench around nothing but he knew he had pushed his luck already. the images of you and your little cunt plagued his mind as he fell asleep

⇉

the morning after was a blur for you; the early morning rays of sun kissing your skin, waking you up to the quiet twitter of the birds. it was early - way too early for anyone to be up, maybe ward but that seemed unlikely since he had no buisness to attend to roday

so when you went downstairs in nothing but a pair of panties and a bra covered by a thin dressing gown, the last person you expected to see was rafe cameron, the older boy resting his lower back against the counter, mindlessly scrolling on his phone

there was something magnetic about him - the dark blue in his eyes carrying a deep mystery. despite his typical mean,brooding state - barely sparing anyone around him more than a glance, you were always so drawn to him - his roughness; it only made your mind wonder to places they definitely shouldn’t be going, especially not about your brother

his hands; so rough and calloused, always adorned with the familiar gold cameron ring gifted by his father. you’d thought about them more often than you’d like to admit, what’d be like to hold them - intertwining them within yours. you wondered how’d they’d feel inside you, fitting in you so snug - reaching places inside you that you could only imagine of. the thought of them wrapped tightly around your neck, his fingers inside your mouth, making their way down your thro-

“your up early, must’ve slept good” you look up at him, realising you’d been staring intently at the lengths of his fingers, his voice was husky signalling he must’ve just gotten up aswell

you didn’t miss the subtle smirk as he uttered out the end of his sentence. weird you thought but didn’t pay it much thought, rafe is rafe. “yeah i guess-” you sigh out, hands softly grazing against the edge of the counter as you moved slightly closer “i mean i went to bed pretty late but it’s fine”

“yeah?” it was hard to miss his teasing tone, you couldn’t help but look down at the ground - feeling small in his presence “and why did you go to bed so late” the sudden shift in position nearly startles you, with rafe’s tall figure looming over you, standing impossibly close. you could feel his minty breath coming slowly closer and closer, making your pussy clench around air

you couldn’t help but take in his appearance, wearing nothing but a tight pair of boxers which did nothing to hide his quite obvious boner poking at the front of your thigh, hair tussled above the icy blue in his eyes

“just on-” the quiver in your voice only seemed to push him closer “on my ph- phone” you ramble out, hoping this conversation would be over soon enough

and just as he goes to speak, the voice of ward and rose waking up could be heard from downstairs, thank god- but it doesn’t stop him from shifting closer, leaning down to your ear “ well get to bed earlier-” he drawls out, voice unusually soft and gentle “f’me kay” he begins to leave but not before placing a sticky kiss on the bottom of your cheek, hands resting dangerously low on your back but quickly glide off at the arrival of the rest of the family, as he rushes his way upstairs

you stood there hot and bothered and all that rested in your mind was the excitement of straddling your pillow tonight hoping it was him;your mean older step brother

[kalims]

scribbles

"( – ⌓ – ) ⎯⎯ he lets you draw on his skin, yeah thats pretty much it.

ft. malleus, vil

malleus

it was... a breach of your patience.

the lesson, was awfully boring. the more you listened to the apparent 'heroic' doings of certain individuals. the more it strips away your attentiveness to the words spilling out of professor trein's mouth. no matter how many times you will your ears to make out the incoherent lecturing of the man... it remains deaf.

so you decide to sate said boredom.

how? of course you need to bother your seatmate!

your intentions remained within the circle of yourself of course. your eyes stuck to the stray marker over your paper so you silently twisted the cap off and scribbled on your paper—then it was your palm—and now, malleus' arm.

"child of...?" man. malleus finishes in his mind, his attention suddenly snapped away at the sudden tug of his arm. definitely not his own decision to even make it move in the first place. usually it would remain stiffly beside his body like usual and even if someone tried to pry it to them it would remain still. but without his attention, his body lets you.

without another word. you peel open his fingers, palm open to you and it's a notion he allows. and he stays silent when you tug his gloves off. perhaps with a curious huff, malleus drifts closer to you. to accommodate your actions that he's yet to get an explanation for.

... and suddenly there's very bright flowers drawn on his palm.

said owner of the palm might just be toe darkest person in the room so it's quite out of place.

but it's from you so he likes it.

he peeks at it, with a fond smile on his face. I should enchant it to remain there forever. he thinks to himself, the curve of his lips growing wider at his thoughts, like he'd proud of the idea. the idea of being able to carry around something made exclusively by you might as well shove him into a cannonball and send him to cloud nine.

it's adorable. you're adorable.

his world grows a little more blue the more he stares at you. and if it weren't for the searing glances the professor sends your way malleus would just let his eyes engrave you into his memory forever, so he laments over it and reluctantly peels his gaze off you. mind speaking a thousand memories, the very same reason he somehow can't hear anything trein says.

you draw a strange looking lizard beneath his ring finger, one that looks a little like him and he thinks that you're asking him for marriage.

that can be arranged... he ponders, oblivious.

vil

drawings, doodles, painting— art. a reflection of the soul.

vil is great at makeup.

every brush on your face, a step to beauty. that is his reflection. you are his soul. he wants to make you look—no, make you feel like you're beautiful cause the canvas he's standing in front of is his greatest piece of art, he'd want to put you on the tallest pedestal there is. the grandest one just so the rest knows your beauty is parallel to none, something they can see and admire but not reach.

but he also wants to keep you in his own room, because only he knows what he felt when he painted you. only he should be the one given the grace.

this... he doesn't know what to consider.

perhaps vil should be bothered, if not then a little peeved at the several colors across his skin. a myriad of doodles, some words, and some simple drawings. a poor portrait of him is drawn next to one he assumes yours, the 'fairest' word on the right side of his hand, and flowers.

he's sure though. you're definitely no artist.

the thought cracks a smile at him, and you steal a glance midst the cool tip of the pen dancing along his skin. "I'd thought you wouldn't even let me do this," you admit, chair having been moved over closer to him so you wouldn't have any leaning problems. a suggestion by vil you gratefully took up, though you doubt it was just another excuse to have you closer.

"why?"

"dunno," you shrug. "it looks unseemly compared to you."

he huffs, flashing you a light smirk. "so my face is, hmmm..." vil ponders for a moment, and your face twists to the realization that you possibly just exposed what you think. but you suppose it isn't really a problem since it was basically common sense that vil is...

"gorgeous." you finish for him.

his aura brightens. (probably will be for the rest of the week.)

your hand retracts from him, the marker gripped between your fingers. and he takes a look at your 'art.' he doesn't know if he should consider it as one since there are a heap of sloppy lines, and the color bleeds into his skin. some smudges that you accidentally brushed against that makes it seem like a messy picture of chaos.

vil strives for perfection, but it's only natural there are flaws. to love oneself, you must love all parts. and to love you, he loves whatever the ink on his skin is.

well, what the heck.

"pass it to me," he stretches his hand, and you quirk a brow. questioning but curious so he indulges you. "I'll show you how it's done."

note. ngl idk what I wrote for vil it's currently 12 AM rn ☠ <- newer note, this has been rotting in my drafts for weeks and I couldn't decide whether to post it cause I wasn't sure about vil's but here hehehe

[s0dium]

who are the sexiest JJK DILFs??? Your toji fic got me thinking....

I LOVE DILFS

Synopsis: Ranking the top three JJK DILFS. This was very self indulgent ;)

Characters: Toji Fushiguro, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru

Warning: Age gap, breeding, blowjobs, edging

Toji Fusiguro

Of course first place goes to him, he is THE DILF

More of a father than people give him credit for, but is definitely one everyone would like to fuck

The type to act like he doesn't care about what his kids do but then show up to their baseball game or recital with a camera

Definitely likes younger women

He knows no shame. Are you his kids pre k teacher? He is fucking you. You his kid's babysitter? Might as well spread your legs now

Toji knows how hot he is, in fact he bathes in the stares of all the other moms and the whispers

He's mean in bed too

You thickly swallow when you feel Toji tap his tip on your soft lips.

“Suck.”

With not an ounce of hesitance, you bring your face close to Toji’s awaiting member and allow your tongue to flop out, the warmth of your wet muscle gliding across the underside of his dick making his thighs shudder. Your ego swells, he rarely, almost never, shows a reaction when you suck him off. That simple shudder gives you the courage to bring his tip in your mouth, suckling and kissing the swollen head. Your eyes are locked with his as you do this, relishing in that subtle smirk he gives when your tongue swirls over his member, soaking the skin with your saliva.

"Make it quick, before the kids get home." He says through a groan.

2. Geto Surguru

Coming in hot is Suguru

Above all else Suguru is a family man, even after two daughters he finds him self wanting more. Perhaps a boy even?

Very loving father, the type to make you breakfast in bed and cook for you

Very active in his kids life, will go to PTA meetings (which you hate because all the moms swoon over him) and he knows how to braid and do his daughters hair

Wants. More. Kids. Honestly, it doesn't matter what gender the kid is, he would be lying if he said the part he didn't like the most was the fucking you dumb and filling you

"Talk to me baby," Geto groans in your ear. Oh god you want to, you want to say something something about how fucking good you are feeling, but words seem to fail you. The friction of his dick thrusting in and out of your walls is too delicious almost maddening. Geto snapped his hips so fast that everything seemed like a blur, the bed was shaking immensely with the head board banging on the wall and so were you from getting your cervix abused by his leaking tip. One hand is pinning your wrists together while he pistons into your gummy walls with brute force, too dumb to resist him that you could only moan and whine from how good he was fucking you.

"Want me to cum in you baby? Fill you up?'

3.Nanami Kento

Honorary DILF! This man has everything that meets the DILF criteria without being an actual dad

But if he where a dad, he'd be an amazing one

Stern but kind, Nanami Kento is not only dad material but husband material

Nanami Kento is the type to be oblivious to all the stares he gets from other women because the only this that on his mind is you and his kids

And with you, his wife, the love of his life, this man takes his time loving u

"M'feel so good so good," You babble feverishly, practically choking on each syllable. Your breathing has become ragged and fat tears started to cloud your vision.

"Shhhh baby I know." Nanami groans, grunting at the way your pussy squeezes around him, trying to suck him in impossibly more even though his tip is already brushing against your cervix.  The sounds that emanated from your bodies were sinful, trapped warm cum sloshing with every slow thrust. Your thighs trembled, toes curling and uncurling at the feeling of being stuffed so impossibly full. 

“Faster please faster,” You whine and bury your nose into the nape of his neck to kiss and lick at the skin in an attempt to appease your husband. 

“Just a little longer baby, wanna fuck you nice and slow first.”

[yandere-writer-momo]

Thinking about a Yandere vampire. Specifically, the beautiful kind that shape-shift into giant, humanoid bat creatures. The hopeless romantic vampire who cannot forget his human lover when he was once human…

Yandere Vampire who was oh so thrilled when you knocked at his door and shivered on his steps. What a scrumptious morsel you were! So soft and tender looking… he couldn’t wait to eat you. Your tears fell as you babbled about how you were thrown off your horse that was spooked by a pack of wolves and you ran towards his manor in hopes of safety. You were simply out looking for your lover. You were lucky to escape those damned werewolves! Those mangy mutts always laid their paws on most of the prey around here… which made you all the more scrumptious.

Yandere Vampire who invited you into his humble abode and ushered you into his living room to warm up at the fire. You couldn’t help but feel suspicious of his overly friendly smile and his incessant touching. Why did he dress up like he was from the Victorian era? And his accent was so thick… was he Romanian perhaps?

Yandere Vampire who gives you a fresh set of clothes and tells you that he has a spare room in the west end of the manor. You’re very grateful to him and even give him a soft smile that caused his chest to stir. When was the last time he’s had pleasant company? He couldn’t remember since it’s been so many years since a meal came to him…

Yandere Vampire who found himself sitting beside you as you asked him about his life. He was flattered that you showed interest in him. He didn’t find himself that interesting of an individual since he’s spent a millennium alone. Yet you seemed so happy to hear about his hobbies and book collection. The way your eyes sparkled and your cheeks flushed made him miss the days he was once human… but he could not let your human innocence enrapture his lonely heart. He must feast on you. It’s the way of living after all. No matter how strikingly similar your appearance was to the love his life.

Yandere Vampire who begins to feel more hesitant when you laugh and smile. Your mannerisms were so similar to a lover he had when he was human… it couldn’t be, right? There was no way they had returned to him… he was a monster now.

Yandere Vampire who sneaks into your room when you’re fast asleep. You were completely oblivious to the way his cold hands roamed your body as he dragged his fangs across your delicate neck. He’d make your death quick and painless… yet he couldn’t help but want to check to see if you really may be a reincarnation of his lover. What if you were? Would you be able to love him again?

Yandere Vampire who choked back a sob when he found a birthmark on your skin that was the same as his dead lovers. They were back to him… at long last, he wouldn’t be alone!

Yandere Vampire who leaves your room in a hurry in a cloud of black smoke. The vampire rushes to his room so he can stand on his balcony. His pale hands grab the metal rails as his body sprouts white fur and white bat wings spring from his back. He needed to feast but he wouldn’t feast on you. No, never you… his beloved.

Yandere Vampire who raids a nearby village and savagely feasts. He needed to build up his strength so he’d be able to turn you into a vampire as well! He couldn’t lose you again… not when he finally had you in his possession once more. He wondered if you’d remember him if he showed you all the portraits he had painted of you over the years.

Yandere Vampire who began to fantasize of all the ways he’d make love to you. Of how he’d litter your body with bite marks and bruises so you’d always have his ownership on you. Gods it made him breathless imagining being with you in this monstrous form. He wondered if yours would be more beautiful than his… he could hardly contain his excitement!

If only he was aware that you had a lover already who was his sworn enemy… a werewolf.

[seraphdreams]

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MEGUMI!" | MEGUMI FUSHIGURO.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃— synopsis. it would be so very cruel of you to not show your appreciation for your best friend, especially on his birthday.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃— cw. smut, college au, reader calls him “megs”, mention of “angelcunt”, unprotected love-making, bimbo!reader / best friend!megumi, a bit of asphyxiation, megumi with a crush! fingering, and praise. mdni <3

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃— word count. 1.7k, a quick read !!

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! hellooo !! it’s a real one’s birthday, this is the least i could do to celebrate. i’m trying to get back into the groove of writing again so stay tuned n ready 4 fics in the future !! sweet college au best friend megumi is always on my mind, something about a stoic but secretly in love trope .. (he’s no better than his father, sigh) .. as always, if you enjoyed this, please reblog / comment. i’ll bake u you’re favorite sweets if u do !! thank u ♡

megumi has always been there for you. through ups and downs, taxing breakups, even the times you’d get exceedingly inebriated and ramble endlessly about your ever-growing appreciation for him — there was no denying the cordiality he’d shown throughout the many years of your friendship. sure, he could be quite cold, maybe even grumpy; but that was just the joy of megumi fushiguro.

and for that, it’d only be right to repay him.

for all of the times he would show up uninvited to your dorm with the notes of the lecture you’d fortuitously missed, blaming the absence on the absurdly quiet lull of your alarm clock, or when he’d let you have the last bite of his food, because only god knows megumi was never above tolerating you. it’d be the work of a terrible friend to let it all go unnoticed, especially on a special day like today.

“happy birthday, megs!” there you stood,

bubbly and bright as ever, in the doorway of his bedroom, clad in nothing but a tiny pink pajama set with a top reigning transparency, it barely left the skin beneath to the imagination.

he had invited you, along with yuuji and nobara, over to his dorm the previous night to keep him company after class — which led to a kugisaki-induced movie marathon, and eventually phased out into the four of you passed out on the fushiguro’s couch, hues of light omitting from the colorful rays of the forgotten television screen and onto your slumbering faces.

with megumi holding the title of competency within the friend group, it came as no shock when he’d woken up the others to send them on their merry way. all except you, of course. the light throw-over blanket clinging to your body neatly as you slept, soft snores resonating within your being aided in megumi’s decision to give you a few extra minutes to rest.

he could never interfere with your comfort.

after your unanticipated birthday wishes, it took a moment for megumi to come to, blinking away his awareness for your scantily clothed body and opting for a more stoic expression.

“thanks,” he replied, tone low and clouded with an air of vague appreciation.

“wanna know what i got you for your birthday?” your query was that of a sing-song manner as you swayed in place. megumi was used to being around absolute rays of sunshine, but you? you were different. it was as if you were the sun itself; warm and inviting yet shone luminous enough to blind onlookers. you were tooth-rottingly sweet, and as bubbly as you were naive.

matters weren’t made any better forgoing the fact that megumi had true feelings for you. it was a running gag within your friend group, jokes that itadori and nobara would make concerning the contrast between megumi’s unwelcoming behavior when it came to them, and impassive patience had times fell upon you.

in fact, obliviousness was your specialty in being ignorant to the feelings of the fushiguro. it wasn’t your fault, you truly didn’t know.

megumi responds curtly, although with a hint of sarcasm, “a break?”

you pout as you rest your head against the lacquered doorframe, reigning defeated already despite the conversation barely racking up a minute’s time. “no, silly.” the words come out as a giggle. “i got you me!”

a hint of confusion glosses over his features before it morphs into that of a neutral expression. shirtless from his shower just minutes prior, and puzzled from what your mind had conjured up this time, he questions again. “you? you got me you?”

you shake your head affirmatively as he starts up once more. “and what do i do with you?”

clear as day, your exchange took a rather suggestive turn, one that neither of you were intending. “well, you can do a lot of things with me,” now stepping into the room to close the distance between your bodies, your response is thick with an air of lust that megumi noticed seemed to come naturally for you. his heart picks up in pace from the sight of your pretty face, and even prettier eyes looking vacantly into his, as if you weren’t aware of the trap you set up for yourself.

he brushed off the slight arousal brewing up within him, chose to play it off as mirth like he usually did when it came to you. “i guess so.”

you held onto his arm, a more distinct, yet adorable look of seriousness on your features. truly, you were a little doll. “i’m for real, megs. it’s your birthday, i’ll let you do anything you want.”

yeah. you’re really going to regret this one.

the word “anything” came with free reign. and even though megumi thought of himself as anyone but a pervert, he certainly was bound to start acting like one.

“anything?” his question came out as if he was treading lightly while he moved to dig through his drawer, perhaps looking for a shirt.

you stepped back to allow him the space of rummaging, while nodding your head and confirming his suspicions. “anything.”

“let’s fuck, then.”

his tone was nonchalant, easy on your ears as his speaking voice regularly sounded, and you would have missed his request had he not straightened up to search your countenance for an answer — deadpan, as if he hadn’t said a thing.

in that moment, all of what you hadn’t noticed, no. all of what you chose to deny had finally been put into perspective.

megumi fushiguro was fucking hot.

“i mean, if that’s what you want then i don’t mind.” your response was succinct, gentle on your tongue and provided him the response he’d been aiming for.

this might be his best birthday yet.

he strode closer to you in light steps before his large, glacial hand found its place on your cheek and silken lips met yours, pulling you into a salacious kiss filled with hunger and want. the press of his tongue begging to be allotted within the slot of your lips was accepted with your own muscle dancing against his. it was dizzying, and dissimilar. for all your years of knowing megumi, you would’ve never thought up the occuring situation.

lithe fingers danced up the skin of your thighs where you part them on instinct, allowing his digits to work on their own to slip past the barrier of elastic fabric and into your little lace panties, softly drumming along the puffy nub of your clit.

“megumi,” you rasp against his lips, swirling your hips over his hand to build up the sweet friction surging from your core. the saccharine croon of his name tasted sugary like vanilla rolling off of your tongue and onto his. he was in pure bliss; ready to take everything you gave to him.

his body responded to your need, fingertips at your clit circling tightly, an action that pulled a string of mewls from you before you gasped at the intrusion of his long fingers dipping into your core. they curled upwards against your gummy walls just until they increased in pace while his thumb pivoted at your sensitive nub, and fuck! where’d he learn how to do that?

he pulled away only slightly to read your expression, the tent in his pants growing taller, tip leaking carelessly at the onsight of your face, screwed taut in pleasure — plump, glossy lips that were slick with spit and moans slipping past without prevail.

underneath him, your legs felt feeble, as if they’d fall beneath you from the surgence of pleasure. “m-megumi, wait, ‘m gonna!-“ you held onto his shoulders for leverage, your warnings of orgasm falling on deaf, distracted ears, until finally, you were a gushing mess in his palm, coating his digits in your essence.

“fuck. you’re so pretty when you cum,” in that moment, he gave you no chance to react when he gently positioned you over his dresser, pulling down your little shorts until they pooled around your knees.

“y’made me so hard, y/n. can you feel it?” he grinded himself over the plush of your ass, teasing before pulling his sweats down just enough so that his hard, throbbing and leaking, length could be free. it bobbed ever so under its weight while one hand began to pump from base to shaft to soothe the excruciating ache. once he felt satisfied in his ministrations, he lined his cock along your awaiting slit.

“a condom, megs.” your reminder came in the form of a soft lull. after all, you two were just free-spirited college students, unable to pay the consequences of spontaneous actions. “don’t have any.” with that, he sunk his cock inside to the hilt, a low groan rippling from his throat at just how tight your pussy clamped around him. it felt like fucking heaven. he could die in your cunt and be at peace.

while you adjusted to the stretch, he began to move; slow, deep strokes as if he were savoring this moment forever. who knows when he’ll be able to have the luxury to sink inside your perfect angelcunt again? you bit your lip to stave off impending moans which ultimately failed when his arms snaked around your body — one hand underneath the cloth of your shirt and pinching at your perked nipples while the other finds its place right back at your clit.

“sh-shit!” you cry out, eyes rolling and mind hazy from the pleasure. his rhythm increased gradually until he built up a vigorous pace. “i’ve been needing y-you so bad.” megumi groans along the shell of your ear. how he got so lucky as to have his dream girl engulfed around his cock, he doesn’t know. all he’s aware of was the tightening of his abdomen, signaling his own impending orgasm.

white hot pleasure replace all feeling in your body, counting down its time until the familiar numbness washed over you in euphoria. a pitchy moan sounded from your lips and an even whorish whimper when the warmth from spurts of his cum coated your insides.

after what felt like a minute of the two of you recollecting your breaths, megumi finally pulled out, shuddering at the added stimulation at his oversensitive cock.

he leaned your head back to meet his lust-filled gaze; calmness of his deep navy orbs now deepened with sin. megumi pressed gentle kisses all over your face while his hands took purchase at your now, exposed, neck and squeezed tight enough to keep you lightheaded.

“you’re the best birthday present.”