#'i know him from something and i know him WELL from something. like whatever hes from is iconic to me'

[lologoinsolo]

Cats and Their Men Masterlist, Part 2

Thinking about Simon with a runt of a kitten and it’s barely the size of his palm. Also thinking about the poor cashier that’s stumbling over her words when that hulking man has a kitten fisted in his palm and he just jerks it forward.

“U-Uh, sir, we can’t— I can’t keep that.” His eyes make you shrivel up and you delicately hold the little kitten in your hands. “We uh— the store can’t hold animals we only sell the stuff that animals need.”

He looks at you like that’s not what he’s wanted to hear. Granted you’ve had a couple people come up to try and surrender or drop of their animals like it’s a pound. “I need things for the cat.” He says and you feel like maybe you shot yourself in the foot.

You have a line piling up behind him but no one seems to dare speak up. Why would they when this guy could lay them flat out? Jesus what are they feeding this guy? Steroids and protein powders? You think before swallowing thickly. “I can… I can get my coworkers to—“

“No.” He reaches forward and you flinch when he picks up the kitten and holds it to his chest. “You’ll help.” Nodding off and he starts to walk leaving you dumbfounded and confused. He walks a couple steps before he turns to you with a ‘well?’ look on his face.

You hurriedly grab your pager and call for someone to go through the line while you help this guy. Leading him down the aisle for the litter and you list off the different types. “There’s crystal litter, wood pellets and those are pretty good when it comes to smell. We have tofu litter and that—“

“Does it need something fancy to shit in?” He cuts off the beginning of your speech with a huff. He sounds a mix of annoyed and amused with how you bristle from his remark. You’re tempted to leave, your manager can bitch later about you doing that butttt the kitten against his chest meows and you find that you can’t leave the little thing to suffer because their dad’s a right prick.

“Sir,” you take a breath, “the litter is moreso about preference. Do you want to hide the smell of their… ya know… poop better? Or would you prefer something that clumps or something that’s easy to clean?” You wait… and wait some more before he finally says.

“Pick one.”

You blink at him and he mimics it that bastard. He just stares the entire time you have this little contest. You’re starting to feel like you should’ve called out of work. You knew today would be horrible, your instincts never lie. “Okay,” taking a deep breath and spitefully picking the most expensive and heaviest litter that your store sells. You yank it off the shelf with a groan. If it’s hard for you to lift then he’ll probably have the time of his life having to lug this home. He doesn’t seem to care about the pricing nor the weight though as he grabs the litter from your struggling arms. He shoves the kitten back to your empty hands. “I—“ you stumble over your words, trying to come up with something but he beats you to it.

“Where’s the food she need?” Lifting it onto his shoulders, the muscles bulging as he holds that thing with ease.

“Well she,“ you cough to keep from ogling too much. “Will need some kitten food and maybe some wet food later on. A good kibble would be good to add later on once she gets older,” holding the kitten up gently and her little green eyes blink at you. You prod softly at her teeth to make sure she can handle those foods. You’re hoping she’s not to young or she’ll need kitten formula. You then check her ears and see some red marks. Noticing the little black specs moving about her neck and you cringe. “And a good flea bath. Poor thing,” petting the little baby as you walk off to grab a flea comb. He’ll have to buy it anyways so you’ll make use of it now. You pick at her fur with the comb and squish whatever fleas that you find, you hate those little fuckers. “What’s her name?”

You’ve noticed he’s as silent as a grave this customer of yours. He’s hardly said a peep besides caveman grunts and nods. If it wasn’t for him nearly against your side then you would’ve thought he ran off. That black surgical mask makes him look like he’s something important. Maybe mafia or something possibly dangerous. But… he did come in holding this tiny kitten and isn’t batting an eye at the things you’ve been telling him he’ll need to get for his new pet. Perhaps he’s nicer than your judgement of him is.

You clear your throat, he probably didn’t hear you since he hasn’t tilted his head down. “Does she have a name?” You ask once more and he pulls to a stop, he had came back with a cart earlier when there were too many things for him to hold in his tree trunk arms. It was comical seeing him try to hold a litter box, scratching post, and various foods though.

He doesn’t answer save for the roll of his shoulders that looks like it could be counted as a shrug. You mouth an ‘oh’ before you mind your business. He probably just found her or he’s gonna foster and send her off. Better to not get attached…

You chatter off the things he’ll need to do. See a vet, get her spayed, make sure she has no health problems, the usual things that you mention to pet parents. The little thing in your hands is a curious thing, she wiggles about constantly. Eager to move and escape your hands and arms. Tiny tail flicking about and the meowing and pawing is cute, makes your heart squeeze when he plucks her from your hands and he holds her close. You push the cart along and stop at the toys and bowl aisle.

“Well,” you pull some toys off the shelf, crinkle toys and mouses that should help with those prey instincts. “She’s a sweetheart. I’d probably call her Bailey,” you smile fondly and his brows furrow at your advice. Grabbing the kitten shaped bowls and hurriedly putting them in the cart when you squirm under his eyes. “Oh uh, my brother always wanted a cat named Bailey. It’s a nice name but if you don’t want to call her—“

“Bailey,” he holds her up a little and the kitten paws at his face. Her little nails snag on the fibers of his mask and he pulls them off quickly. “Better than garbage, yeah?” He speaks to the kitten like a human. There’s a crinkle besides his eyes and you realize he’s smiling but when you catch what he said you drop this cactus scratcher you thought he should buy her by accident.

“Garbage?” You look aghast. You’ve heard all kinds of names but never something like that. Quickly picking the cactus scratcher back up and placing it in the piling up cart. “You’d call her that?”

He shrugs his massive shoulders again. “S’where I found ‘er.” Grumbling his reasoning. He glares at the kitten like she’s the cause of his problems. “Couldn’t sleep with’er howling and rummaging about. Made a mess that I had to clean.”

You blink a bit and now it makes some sense why he’s so… snappy? “Well… maybe she knew you’d get her if she was loud enough.”

He scoffs, “she bit and hissed at me.” He rubs his finger over her head and you notice the little red marks on his hands. “Feisty little shit shoulda left ya out in the cold.” She nips at him and he chuckles something deep.

You can’t help the smile that reaches your face. She plays with his fingers and he doesn’t flinch when she bites hard or digs her nails in. He just looks down at her with something akin to wonder and begrudged responsibility.

You pull him to your cash register and his kitten racks up a pretty hefty bill but he pays for it with wads of cash. You don’t speak on the weird crumbled bills nor the faint reddish brown color. You simply bag his items and put them in his cart. “If you need anything, sir. Come find me and I’ll help, okay?” You can’t believe you said it AND actually ment it. What can you say, you love cats more than people and that little thing won your heart as easily as she won his.

He gives a gruff nod and pushes his cart out with on hand. The kitten is pushed into his coat pocket to hide her most likely from the cold outside. She pokes her head out to give a complaint but he just gently pushes her back in. He leaves without waving and you’re left to wonder if he’ll come back. You kinda hope he does come back.

[dwaekkicidal]

Nonsexual Dominance with SKZ

wc» 1.1k

cw» gender neutral, d/s dynamics, dom!skz & sub!reader, trad!minho, sfw but some people might see some things as controlling or toxic- it's not meant to be and this is based off a MUTUAL agreement + set boundaries. if you dont like dont interact <3

txt version

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

𝙱𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗

Makes you send him food pics regularly. On days where you genuinely don't want to, he won't push it, but for the most part he enforces it and will be upset if you don't send a pic. And this is only really because it means you didn't eat.

He loves it not only for the obvious reason of watching over you even when he's not around, but also because it reminds him to also eat. All those hours in the studio blur and it's only a matter of time before he completely loses track of time- but you and your meals are there to remind him :)

𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝙺𝚗𝚘𝚠

Ok hear me out, traditional husband!minho... If you don't want it, he won't push it but it works so well,,, If it's far enough into the relationship that the trust comes naturally, he'd sit you down to discuss your opinions on you staying at home all day and quitting your job and putting all the financial burden on him- because he wants that responsibility. He wants to take care of you so extremely.

The pleasure dom in him comes out specifically outside of the bedroom. He absolutely loves cooking for you and spoiling you with extravagant dinners & expensive gifts, and he loves just holding you close just because he can, but he expects you to do everything else in the house- or at least most of it. While he's willing to compromise certain chores, he wants to come home to the house being clean and clothes being washed and all that.

But he always makes it worth your while and spoils you rotten :( Cuddles you until you're absolutely sick of him (not) and tries to take you out on regular dates to spoil you (like while shopping at the mall or taking you out to a nice dinner)

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚋𝚒𝚗

Might sound kind of weird but hear me out- him telling you "no." I think Chris is one that would love to do this but has NO self control and therefore can't bring himself to unless he absolutely has to lol. But Changbin thrives off of it.

Don't get him wrong- he looves to spoil you. But he also loves that little spark in your eyes when you bat your eyelashes at him so prettily and ask him for something- only for you to get a gentle but firm "no" that makes your bottom lip puff out. & It's not that he doesn't want you to have whatever this thing is, it's more so that he knows there's a limit to being spoiled and no matter how much he loves you, you both need an occasional humbling- and he feels like you both could use a soft reminder of who let who have all the control

He'll always make up for it with sweet kisses and maybe a little tickling to make your pout go away, but his chest puffs out a little every time he gets to tell you "no"

𝙷𝚢𝚞𝚗𝚓𝚒𝚗

Is the kind to having his hand on your body at all times, if you're more than an arms length away from him you'll be getting a certain look that discreetly reads "Get over here now." Sometimes will even curl his finger up in your direction- doesn't care if somebody is watching or even if he's in the middle of talking/an important conversation

He just likes to have you close, and he knows he needs that mental grounding that you offer more often than not. He's just confident about needing it, so he's not afraid to show everybody how much he loves you and needs you by his side

That being said, he will lead you around malls, museums, grocery stores, or hell even the other boy's apartments all with his hand either intertwined with yours or on some part of your body (usually your lower back) that lets him guide you around.

𝙷𝚊𝚗

He felt a little awkward at first bringing this up to you, but now that it's become a regular part of your routine, he lives for these moments: he loves when you sit pretty on his lap and shave his face for him. It's gotten to the point where he will refuse to shave himself at all for weeks on end if you aren't able to do it for him.

It makes him feel a bit more dominant than it should? considering he will see you have free time and point out that he needs a shave- which usually has you dropping everything to go do it for him. But he also sees it as him being loyal to you and you having an equal amount of "control" on his life. (Also you will catch him dead before you catch him complaining about his lover sitting in his lap for any amount of time lol)

Generally just domestic little acts of service that let him "command" you while also letting you have control over his life (that's really only obvious to you two, but that's more than enough for him)

𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚡

Doesn't realize he likes it right away, but he loves to talk for you with strangers. He loves to order your food for you, order your coffee for you (sometimes even mobile ordering it so you don't have to talk to people if he's not available), carrying your clothes for you while you shop and being the one talking at the cash register- stuff like that.

Not only does this scratch that little dom itch in the back of his head because he's taking care of you while still being in "charge", but it also allows him to spoil the hell out of you with you knowing how much money he's spending on you lol. You get to sit pretty at his side and look at/play with the little trinkets by the register while he drops literal hundreds on you with a smile on his face.

𝚂𝚎𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚖𝚒𝚗

Sorry not sorry but he loves his non sexual punishments. No matter what you do in or out of the bedroom, he can and will find a way to punish you for it without having to lay a finger on you.

One of his favorites is making you write a sentence down over and over again. Kinda cliché "teacher" punishment but it usually gets his point across and prevents you from acting out (for like a week max lol). If he's particularly annoyed at you/frustrated he will make you write it in Korean & wont translate it for you more than once lol.

Another one he really likes is making you kneel on the floor instead of on the couch. He's not really huge on forbidding you from watching tv unless you want him to go that far, but you're not gonna be allowed to sit on the soft, comfy couch- you're gonna be kneeling on the floor, most likely by his leg so you can still cuddle up to him (he'll grant you a small pillow if it's a longer punishment)

𝙸.𝙽

Jeongin loves picking your outfits and your accessories for you. He's not usually too dominant out of the bedroom otherwise, and it's very rare that he is, but this is the main way he is.

Even before you two lived together, he would text you a grossly sweet good morning message and would include a comment about how you should send him a few outfits for him to choose from you to wear. But now that you guys are living together, he takes it upon himself to pick out an outfit for you while you're still in bed or in the bathroom waking up.

Taglist: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @honeyybbuubblleess

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa

@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed @moonlightndaydreams @velvetmoonlght

@aeri-skzver

[rainrot4me]

Restless

Summary: Your demon boyfriend is struggling with a wave of insomnia. You’re willing to do whatever you can to help him relax.

Characters: Eyeless Jack x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Cunnilingus, vaginal, handjob, vaginal fingering, size differences, creampie, belly bulge, oral, teasing, somnophilia, Jack is a smug bastard

Words: 4.2k

A/N: Happy belated Valentine’s Day! I hope you all are well despite my absence interacting with everyone! I hope to get back in the swing of things shortly!!

Eyeless Jack is a daunting presence no matter the circumstance.

Whether the gray-skinned demon is lurking in damp woods with the intent of hunting his prey or brooding his irritation down in the mansion's cellar, anyone with the misfortune of meeting his nonexistent gaze knows it’s something you cannot ignore.

But you’re not afraid, especially not when his arm is wrapped dutifully under your waist and rubbing absent circles onto your hip bone. And that is also how you know he is lying wide awake beside you, despite his forced rhythmic breathing.

Rolling over, it’s an even more telltale sign of his restlessness when you find the crease of his brows knotted in silent frustration. You huff a silent breath, his grasp on your waist following as you roll to his side, lying your cheek on his broad shoulder splayed on his pillow. You catch his brow twitching at the touch of your hand on his bare chest.

“Can’t sleep?”

He huffs a breath of air, sighing with defeat as he peels his eyelids open to reveal the caverns of eyesockets that house no iris. His face is answer enough. You know that he’s looking at you, though. The chill that runs across your goosebumped skin is more than enough indication.

“No,” his voice is rough, laced with all the tiredness from the day prior but not matching the lack of exhaustion in his features. He rummages his tongue behind his lips as if to say something further, but decides closing his eyes again would be a better option.

“You want to talk about it?”

You shimmy further into his side, pressing a leg up to curl around his hips, where he grips his clawed hand under the pocket of your knee to hoist it higher. The tips of your toes barely reach the tops of his knees, his size practically swallowing you even beside him. He peels his eyelids open again.

“Also, no.” Reaching behind his pillow, he props his head up with his forearm. A telltale that he intends to stare at the ceiling for the rest of the night. You follow suit, pressing your elbow to the pillow under yourself and resting the weight of your head on your palm. He looks only slightly irritated when you begin to trace the hard lines of his face with your fingertip.

“Just because I cannot sleep doesn't mean you shouldn’t either, my dove,” he hums, capturing your roaming hand with his free one and plating a gentle kiss on the inside of your wrist. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck, the demon plating a gentle kiss onto the top of your head. He lets his eyelids blink shut in false hope.

Jack had been like this for days now. Unable to get a full night’s rest from the overwhelming tasks of the day prior. Slender was sending the proxies out at an obnoxious rate, rallying all the manpower he could over a dispute with another mansion. It was exhausting and incredibly bloody, which meant Jack rarely saw daylight with how many hours he spent stitching up or cauterizing bullet and knife wounds down in the recesses of the basement. His fingers were still practically pinched to hold a needle even as he lay here beside you.

As a member of Slender’s band yourself, you can’t fault any of them for fulfilling orders, but you find yourself silently seething when it comes at the expense of Jack’s sanity.

“I don’t mind,” you breathe, letting your now-free fingers trace across his bare chest, tracing the lighter scarring and divots from past encounters lazily. “I could help you out, anyway.” 

Jack hugs you closer but doesn’t respond to your offer, so you carry on.

“I could... give you a massage?” You offer sleepily, pressing an affectionate kiss to his cheek.

He doesn’t bother to respond beyond a quiet, breathy chuckle.

Your hand meanders over his toned abdomen in comforting, absentminded patterns. Roaming over old scar tissue and through unkept trails of body hair, “D’you want something to eat?” you ask against the skin of his jaw, “I saved some meat from your last hunt.”

“Thank you, pet, but I’ll be alright.”

“Mm,” your low-hummed response vibrates against his side, and your pinkie finger slips just beneath the band of his boxers, grazing across from one large hipbone to the other. Your lips brush the shell of his pointed ear. “D’you want me to suck your cock?”

Jack’s breath hitches, then shudders. His eyelids slowly peel open. 

He’s met with a mischievous grin on your face.

“You don’t need to–”

“I want to,” you coo against his jaw as you trail slow, methodical kisses across his chilled skin. He leans into the sensation, craning his neck to give you better access to the point where his veins run up his throat. He releases a low rumble of approval, and you meet his half-lidded absent gaze, sharp with both mirth and lust, even through the crowding fog of exhaustion. You don’t need the pleasure of pupils to see that he’s gazing at you with silent want.

It’s not without planting a kiss every couple of inches down that you shimmy your way further down his body. Coming to rest between his legs, it pleases you when you press your mouth against his clothed crotch to find him already half-hard.

You hook your fingers over the band of Jack’s boxers, his hips lifting in silent invitation as you ease them down. The cool bedroom air brushes against your skin, ruffling your hair as Jack flicks the duvet aside with a lazy throw. His eyes—dark, absent voids in the low light—watch you with heavy-lidded interest, his lips curling at the edges in a lazy smirk. A fang just barely peeks from the gap in his lips, and you can’t help but feel the flutter in your stomach.

He props himself up on one elbow, but you press a firm hand against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of something not quite human beneath your palm.

“Nuh-uh,” you murmur, a stern edge to your voice. “Lie back. Let me take care of you.”

Jack exhales a slow, unamused breath but obeys, sinking back into the pillows with an air of indulgence. Shadows coil at the edges of the room, stretching and shifting with the thick moonlight between the curtains, but your attention is solely on him.

You catch the spit from your lips between your fingertips and watch with keen amusement as Jack’s gut flexes at the slick contact. You roll your wrist on the tip of his head. Once. Twice.

You waste no time with teasing tonight. 

Instead, you offer yourself completely, the warmth of your mouth and the slow, deliberate glide of your hands working in unison to unravel him. Spit collects, your fist quick to catch anything that dribbles from your lips to stroke back upwards. The occasional flex of his claws against the sheets betrays his restraint, but he lets you set the pace—lazy, deep, unhurried.

Jack is large, obnoxiously so, but you let your throat relax. Unhurried with the usual cascade of noises that come with using your mouth, you let the low moans and quiet slick of your spit mix pleasantly with the lullaby of noises from further up the bed.

The grizzled grunts and lupine growls that usually accompany sex with Jack reshaped instead to soft gasps and lilting whimpers.

It’s a very nice alternative.

His breath hitches when you pause, just briefly, to swirl your tongue in a way you know drives him wild. His muscles tense, then loosen, and one clawed hand twitches toward you before falling away, opting instead to rest against his own ribs, rising and falling with measured breaths.

You don’t let that action go unnoticed.

Sliding your free hand up the rippled muscle of his thigh, you reach for his wrist. You guide him, slotting his clawed fingers in between the strands of your hair. The warmth of his palm is a comfort against your head, a silent guide.

The room is hushed, wrapped in the intimate lull of slow-building pleasure. Jack’s chest rises and falls beneath your touch, his sharp features softened in the low light, his body melting into the warmth of your devotion. His fingers flex in your hair, claws barely grazing your skin, his hips shifting in time with your movements.

Everything is slow, indulgent, and a pleasure drawn out to its fullest. And from the way Jack’s lips part on a breathy exhale, his sharp, inhuman gaze growing hazy with bliss—you know he won’t make it much longer.

You intend to finish him off slowly. An outstretched ripple of pleasure that’s sure to have him passed out the moment he finishes. You press your tongue along the vein that runs up his length, tracing a familiar line. It doesn’t seem to have the desired effect.

Jack’s lulled state is slowly dissipating, his legs shifting outwards as the claw against your head moves downwards underneath your jaw. His hand more than covers the circumference of your throat, and slowly pulls you up and off of his length. 

“Jack?”

But then he’s sitting up, and his claws wrapping around your middle, dragging you up from between his legs.

“I hope you didn’t intend on my cumming in your mouth,” he rumbles as you straddle onto his ribs, hands braced on his chest. 

The lazy look in his eyes is still evident, heavy eyelids adding to the frazzled look of his blissed face. You smirk, bracing your forearms on his chest to get closer to his face. “What? Couldn’t stand the thought of not bruising my insides for once?”

“But that’s my favorite part, dove…” he smirks that evil, sultry look that makes your chest swirl with want. You don’t let him by without an eye roll, though. You school the pounding in your chest—no doubt thudding loud and clear in the demon’s ears—and press up off of his chest.

It’s quick movements that have Jack’s claw reaching behind your back and between your legs, the fastest he’s moved all night to tug your panties to the side. There’s already a generous amount of slickness between your legs, the insistent thrumming of pleasure that spikes up your gut when the pads of his fingers press wholly against your clit.

You lean into your chest, fingers clinging to his shoulders as your nose finds the crook of his neck. Hungry, self-serving kisses follow, your quiet moans vibrating off his gray skin as masterful fingers rub you into a state of ease. He’s just as unhurried as you were between his legs, but you can’t tell if that’s a blessing or a curse with the way your nails catch on the muscles of his shoulders.

“This-hng was supposed to help you sleep—not get you riled up,” you gasp between kisses, feeling the weight of Jack’s forearm as he bypasses your leg with his opposite hand to begin stroking himself below you.

A mirth-filled chuckle hums in his chest as his fingers collect slick, aiding his practiced rotation on your clit. 

“Trust me, pet. This’ll have you sleeping ‘till tomorrow night.”

You let out an exasperated whine.

Jack retracts his hand when he’s satisfied, planting a quick kiss on your forehead before setting you back up.

His legs are bent now, giving you a rest for your back as you shift to straddle his hips, hovering above the twitching length that lays heavy on his abdomen. He’s still slick from your spit, gleaming in the low light as you steady yourself.

Jack retracts his grip on your hips, crossing his arms and tucking them under his head to get a nice prop for viewing. You cut daggers at him.

“Oh, now you wish to rest.”

He smiles that sharp, toothy grin that makes butterfly wings run rampant in the pit of your gut, swirling heavily with the pleasure that’s coaxing your movements downwards.

Panties tugged to the side, you set yourself on the length of his cock, pressing your core against the veins that run up him. Jack groans, soft hums of approval as you roll your hips down, grinding against the feel of him. Your wetness makes it easy to move, hands planted onto the center of his sternum that gives you enough leverage to roll your clit from base to tip of him.

“There you go…” he breathes, sighing as his eyelids blink slowly, like they’re struggling to open back up again. He won’t last another couple of minutes, you know it. 

Pressing your knees down into the sheets, you reach beneath yourself, wrapping a fist around the base of his cock. It’s like second nature the way his tip immediately slots through your folds and presses against your entrance. Jack’s breath stills, anticipation heavy in the air as he shifts his legs closer. 

You press your back against the top of his thighs.

Any and all tenseness is wiped clean away as you begin to push him inside. Your mouth falls open in a silent whine at the slow, perfect stretch, and you battle the flutter of your lashes to watch the hypnotic fog of pleasure that rolls across Jack’s face.

You arch your back further, hands planting atop each of his kneecaps as you slowly rock yourself downwards. His tip bulbs in. Out. In again. And then you press it past the tight ring of muscle.

The stretch is always hypnotic. Like a strain on your brain that pushes itself through, completely swarming your senses and encapsulating your every thought. If you weren’t so practiced, the pressure alone could send you into a brain-dead state.

You slip further and further down, his girth growing along the way. A quick glance up shows the disheveled state of the demon’s hair, strands falling into his face and offering a cover to the darkened state of his cheekbones. 

He looks deliciously wrecked.

Hollow eyes squeeze briefly shut with a short, rough moan that harmonizes with your high, breathy one when he hits something deep that makes you tremble and clench. Before you’ve realized it, you’ve nearly taken all of him, and you can feel it.

“You’re too-hah big for your own good…” you huff through slow breaths.

“You love it,” he growls, the vibration rumbling all the way from his throat to where you’re connected.

You roll your pelvis and are rewarded with a heavy groan and twisted brow, the sight and sound so intoxicating that you rock again, and again. The angle of him inside you is so mind-numbingly exquisite that you find it hard to focus.

You brace your hands on his chest and straighten, relishing the way he looks underneath you—so tired, yet so eager for more. 

Your thighs shake, a satisfying muscular burn from the slow, sensual ride. Raising yourself up, circling your hips to nudge the head of his cock in a tunneling spiral inside your heat as you sink back down again, the teasing movement dragging a deep, strained curse from Jack’s lips.

His hands leave their position behind his head, trailing down the sheets to the top of your kneecaps.

They slowly slide up, claws dragging pink irritated lines across the topside of your thighs until they snag on the crease of your hips. He holds your waist in that way that makes you feel so deliciously small, fingertips nearly touching around you.

“My dove…”

The rumble in his voice shoots straight through you, his breath stuttering as you clench around him. 

You start to offer a slow, sensual ride that has every press of your hips tugging moans from the two of you. Jack’s hold is keeping you steady, the pace more focused on getting him as deep as you can rather than fast.

“Fuck—”

The breathy curse slips, clearly accidental, from above you, and your gaze flicks upwards. 

Jack stares up at the ceiling, unblinking with strangled focus. 

You know what he’s doing.

“Quit- hah- quit holding back,” you grit, wrapping your hands around his forearms in return for the shallow bounces up and down his length. The swell of his cock knocks against your g-spot from this angle, forcing breathy, sharp whines every time you move.

“Mmn,” he grumbles, gaze flickering down towards you, before back up to the ceiling. “Don’t want-hn to so soon.”

For someone with no eyes, Jack’s biggest turn-on is seeing you. The curve of your body. The bounce of your tits. The sweat that glistens off your skin in the moonlight.

He thinks by staring at something besides you he can prevent the inevitable. But your intention for tonight is to get him tired enough to go to sleep, not to see how long he can last without filling you past the point of comfort.

You pull out the best trick you’ve got.

Ditching his arms, you lay back again, shoulder blades pressing atop his kneecaps.

From there, you arch.

You hold all the grace of a bow bending from the stretch of a string, and Jack is your archer.

“Jack—” you cry, sharp breaths following as you bounce yourself up and down.

The demon flashes his gaze down, and his body snaps with so much electricity you can practically feel the thrum of pleasure that ricochets through him. His hold tightens, and his shoulders bow off his pillow.

The bulge of his cock is clearly visible from your abdomen, skin stretching to accommodate the swell of his tip against your insides. It’s a mouthwatering sight, one even Jack can’t resist, as he watches the bump flatten only to reappear with each movement of your hips.

“God,” he groans, a strangled grumble of your name following as he takes hold, setting his own deep pace.

You let your body go lax, throwing your head back as Jack fucks up into you with all the grace he can muster. His cock knocks against your sweet spots, stretching and filling you so full you.

He lifts your waist, your kneecaps leaving the mattress as Jack takes the initiative. Planting his feet, he snaps his hips up desperately, chasing the feel of his cock bulging in your stomach under the press of his clawed fingertips that brush over the skin.

His hands are at your waist, scorching, lifting, and pulling your hips into each sunken thrust. Grinding your aching bud against his pelvis—

“I- I’m- fuck. Gonna,” you pant out, hissing through your bared teeth as you teeter over that lovely precipice. “Jack—”

Your nails dig into his forearms.

It’s the ragged, lust-drunk groan of your name that breaks you. Jack’s mouth falls open around a strangled cry—a silent thing that lodges in his throat, with only the end crackling free over his tongue. 

You both snap at the same moment.

It’s the quivering heat of you coming undone around him, because within moments Jack follows you straight over the precipice. Claws snagging you impossibly downwards as his face twists into the most gorgeous expression of pleasure you’ve ever seen. 

Completely, beautifully wrecked. 

A broken moan pours from scarred lips with yours as he spills himself deep inside you. Throbbing hips grind together as you both tumble through the unceasing riptide of your shared orgasm.

His hold on you falters, and you collapse down onto his chest, sweat-glistened skin pressed against yours. Both of your lungs heave like bellows, and his claws find their way atop your back, holding you close to him. 

After what feels like an eternity, and yet still far too soon, the joint orgasmic rush begins to wane. Gradually lowering you back to reality, until you find yourselves quietly cradled together.

It’s not without a whimper of soreness that you shift upwards, shifting your hips until the swelled length inside of you slips out with a satisfying pop. The warmth of his cum seeps from between your legs, spilling onto the demon’s lower abdomen—there’s always so much.

You barely make it an inch before you’re collapsing back onto his chest.

“You okay, handsome?” You ask gently, voice hushed.

He hums, groggy and laced with overbearing exhaustion.

“Sore?” He asks you quietly.

You shake your head.

“Tired?” You smile.

A tiny huff and a gleam of his fangs, followed by a conceding tilt of his head. You chuckle, nuzzling into the swell of his chest. Sleepiness creeps at the corner of your vision, exhaustion tugging you into the faux warmth underneath you.

Until you feel the slick between your legs start to dribble down your legs.

You raise your head, lips parted to excuse yourself to the bathroom, but immediately still yourself. You find that he’s fallen fast asleep. His heavy frame relaxed fully into the mattress, and his features smoothed and peaceful. You smile to yourself, before letting your head drop back to his chest, finding comfort in the relaxed rhythm of sleep-driven breathing beneath you.

Oh well.

You’ll deal with it in the morning.

-

You wake with Jack’s fingers between your legs.

It’s not a rude awakening, but a surprising one. You rise slowly, exhaustion still heavy in your features as you breathe deep, taking in the feel of a heavy body pressed against your back. You just have shifted off of Jack’s chest in your sleep.

Jack’s claw has slipped underneath your panties—still damp from the night before—circling and skimming over your core, and his other claw up under your top rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

The demon knows you're awake not only by the accelerated thrum of your heartbeat in his ears, but by the soft mewls that begin to stir from your lips.

“Good morning, dove,” he grumbles against your shoulder.

“Mm, it’s good so far…”

Jack trails slow, deliberate kisses along your neck and jaw, his lips warm against your skin as his claws, carefully restrained, glide between your thighs. His fingers move with reverence, sweeping through your slick folds, stroking over your clit, circling your entrance—not in a teasing way, but indulgently, like he has all the time in the world to worship you.

And you let him. Melting back against the sheets, your quiet hums of pleasure fill the stillness of the room.

Before long, Jack shifts lower, moving with unhurried ease as he slides your panties over your hips and tosses them aside. His clawed fingers skim along your legs, a fleeting contrast of sharpness and care, before he settles between them. His gaze flickers up to meet yours—heavy-lidded, dark, burning with something that makes your stomach tighten.

He deems to only use one tongue today, mercifully.

He parts you with that same slow reverence, his mouth finding you with unrelenting patience. His tongues, lips, and fingertips work in perfect harmony, a steady, languid rhythm meant to keep you on the edge, drawing pleasure out in slow, rolling waves. He’s in no rush. His only goal is to unravel you completely, to watch you lose yourself in the pleasure he gives.

His eyes flutter shut as he works, lost in it, his breath warm against your skin. His grip tightens—just slightly—when you shudder beneath him, muscles tensing, hips shifting to chase his touch. Still, he keeps the pace unhurried, each stroke, each flick of his tongue, a deliberate act of devotion.

When release finally washes over you, it isn’t a sharp, fiery explosion but a deep, all-consuming exhale, as if you’ve surfaced from deep water after being held under for too long. It leaves you trembling, shivering beneath him, your breath coming in soft, uneven sighs.

Jack lingers, savoring the last of your pleasure before finally rising to rejoin you. He braces his forearms on either side of your shoulders, settling between your thighs, the solid heat of his stomach pressing against yours. The weight of him grounds you, but he’s sure to not let himself fully lay atop you. His breath fans warm over your cheek, lips curling into a slow, knowing smirk—rather satisfied with himself.

“What in the world was that for?”

“You know exactly what you did.”

You chuckle quietly, rubbing your hands across his muscled biceps. Jack leans forward, wrapping his lips with yours, the sweet taste of your release still on his tongue.

The fresh, relaxing air of the morning is quickly shattered as a hurried knock splinters on the other side of Jack’s bedroom door. 

“Hey! Uh-Uhm, Jack!” Toby’s hurried voice reverbs on the other side, the boy sounding just slightly panicked, “Jeff’s kinda been shot—again.”

It’s not without a groaned sigh that Jack lets his head fall onto your shoulder, taking a deep breath as Toby’s footsteps retreat back down the mansion’s hallway.

“Maybe this time I should just let him bleed out,” he groans, raising up and off of you. You’re quick to sit up, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders as the demon sits off the edge of the bed.

A quick kiss to his temple, then your lips press against the shell of his ear, “If you hurry, then maybe I’ll hold off on taking a shower until you get back up here for round two.”

Never have you ever seen the demon get dressed and down to the basement that fast.

Thanks for reading!

Comments and kudos are appreciated!

[taibhsearachd]

#I think for some people #knowing that humans took care of the nearly fatally injured #and knowing humans took care of a child born with a disability #are two different and incredibly impactful factoids #because like. one can picture a some guy who would buy into ‘alpha male’ shit saying something like #‘well obviously if one of their best hunters had his leg broken they would put a lot of effort into healing him. He’s a genetic asset’ #is some other masculine ancient hunter bioessentialist nonsense #for the rest of us it is a beautiful reminder that humans are caring and always have been #but to have evidence of caring for a child with Down syndrome #is so incredibly irrefutable #from birth this child was different #but they still cared for them #this kid didn’t have to prove their worth to be allowed to live

Thank you for articulating this when I've been struggling to explain it to people who are like "oh but we knew they took care of the disabled before this!"

Shanidar 1, my number one Paleolithic boy, was severely disabled... but he was disabled as an adult, in a catastrophic injury, and lived a decade after that. There's a specific Homo erectus skull that I don't remember the specimen name of but I always called "the old man" when I was studying him... he lost all his teeth and survived long enough that the holes in his jawbone completely healed over, at a point in time where someone would have had to be chewing most of his food for him to keep him alive. But those are adults who had already proved their worth, who probably had children and partners (whatever that would mean in their culture), who could still share knowledge or teach skills or maybe watch a child briefly even with their disabilities.

The significance of this child is that the child would have never been independent, it was probably very clear to its community from early on that it was not going to contribute to their survival at all... and they still went out of their way to care for it. Not just its parents, who of course will love their child. The entire community had to give extra resources and time and care to this child that would never benefit them, and they did, to the end of that child's natural lifespan as far as we can tell.

And to say it's "evidence of compassion" is not, as many people replying to this post have supposed, suggesting that anthropologists did not believe ancient humans possessed the capacity for it. It's that there is evidence now, that a community of people in the most extreme survival circumstance you can imagine still loved and cared for a child simply because it was one of them, and not for any benefit it could provide them.

Yes yes a healed femur is very important, I entirely agree, but this is something else entirely, and it matters differently.

DID YOU HEAR ABOUT THE NEANDERTHAL CHILD WITH DOWN'S SYNDROME? Because they're all I've been thinking about when I'm sad for the past few days. Their existence makes me less sad.

[prlssprfctn]

What do you think about this?

I thought it...

Jason is emotionally adopted by every rogue, villain and enemy of Batman and the BatFam with the exception of the Clown

Like he can just annoy Tim by requesting Ra's to please give him Tim's spleen jar and show it to Tim before giving it back to Ra's.

Each bat kid has one rogue that is connected to them and Jason becomes the favorite of all Robins because... 1 is to be petty and 2 he broke down the enemies defenses and made himself their favorite.

Jason is petty like that.

i actually love this! funnily enough, i think Jason accidentally befriended a few of them even as Robin (an interesting detail: as Robin Jason was very inclined to believe that rogues of Gotham can actually change, while Bruce brushed him off; in one of comics, he really wanted to believe that Penguin had changed their ways, and, of course, he turned out to be wrong, and Bruce explained him that people like him don't change, but isn't it just *so* curious and feels like unintentional foreshadowing? especially, considering that Bruce pushes the "this kid would end up a criminal [or dead] if not for me" from the very beginning of Jason's arc?)

but back to the point, i absolutely love this headcanon. i don't think he will tolerate *all* of them (definitely not Penguin and Crane, I think; Harley, depending on how triggered he is just by Joker association), but the most? for sure. putting my bet that Selina and Pamela might be his favourite, actually.

the funniest part most of them are, like, nerds with PHD. that's exactly a type of people that will welcome his rants about books and law, politics and economy, and— you get it.

and then, there is Ra's. they are very annoying to each other, but they collaborate when they know that their ideas and duo will annoy others. Bruce is getting grey hair every time he knows Jason is at LoA again? Ra's announce that Jason is his grandson as well. Dick is getting a tick because Al Ghul's family is his least favourite family in the world? Jason *accidentally* mixes up chats and sends Dick his selfie with Ra's instead of Talia. bonus points: Dick hates that his chat is somewhere next to Talia, too.

do he also help rogues on occasions when he wants to annoy Bruce? sure.

Batman, trying to catch Selina after she stole something from city hall again:

Jason, calling him in the middle of the chase: Sos, emergency

Batman, pausing: Son? What's wrong?

Jason: I am stuck resolving Riddler's shit, and I really need help with the last one.

Batman: What is it?????

Jason: What cat says when Bat fails again?

Batman: Uh—

Jason, before hanging up dramatically: Don't be mean to your second son.

Batman: Excuse me—

Selina, hopping on a suspiciously familiar bike with a suspiciously familiar vigilante driving it: Muah!

Batman: Shit.

Dick, barging inside the Cave, furious: Had you managed to fight with Jason again?

Bruce: ...How did you know?

Dick: I've spent thirteen hours trying to resolve all Riddler's trials. Some of them were required to quote Jane Austin and fill blanks in Edgar Allan Poe's poems. HOW DO I KNOW?!? GO AND APOLOGISE, YOU STUPUD OLD MAN.

Bruce: ^_^

Red Hood and Riddler on the other side of town: (collective evil giggles)

Tim, sighing, because police asked Red Robin to regulate Poison's Ivy rally in front of CGDP building: Man, it is Sunday...

Tim, squinting at a familiar figure in leather jacket: Jason? What the fuck you are doing here? Are you under Ivy's pollen influence, too?

Jason, holding a big ass poster: Nah, man, just helping my girl Pam

Tim: ...Honestly. Whatever. I'll leave the territory to you.

[bedheaded-league]

One thing that so many people get wrong about Holmes is saying that he’s anti-social and bad with people. He’s awkward, of course, in a very classically autistic way, but when it comes down to it, he’s actually pretty good with people a lot of the time. How do we know this? He has a shocking number of acquaintances who are fiercely loyal to him.

There’s Watson, obviously, but then there are the Baker Street Irregulars, who are clearly in it for more than the pay he gives them - they always seem delighted to help him. Across various stories, Watson runs into a number of people who do whatever he wants as soon as he so much as mentions Holmes’ name. Many of their cases could only be solved because Holmes has a network of convenient people who will do basically anything for him. We don’t know what Holmes did to earn such loyalty, but we can guess - he helped them. He was kind to them. We know that he is often much kinder to the outcasts and downtrodden of society than anyone expects him to be, because we see it in his behavior.

I think that this really ties in so neatly with Holmes being both autistic and queer (however you choose to read his queerness). He doesn’t care about the rules of “polite” society, so he often insults people who consider themselves his superiors. But he is always kind to those who aren’t used to receiving kindness from the world, because he knows what that feels like. That’s why the Irregulars love working for him - he makes them feel important! Honorable! Invaluable to his heroic work! He treats them with respect that no one else in the world gives them, and it’s not just because he’s trying to get something out of them. He actually respects them.

And above all, we know that he isn’t antisocial or bad with people, because Watson loves him so much. Watson, who is by all means a much more well-adjusted member of society, is more loyal to this weird little man than he is to his own country, which he literally got shot fighting for. Because Holmes has earned his love and loyalty. Because he’s a good person. And even if he’s bad at the official rules of polite society, he’s good at being kind. And that’s what really matters.

[gallusrostromegalus]

What kind of deck would Kenpachi use for duel monsters?

Zaraki is the kind of guy who will hunt down Bakura and (gently (for Zaraki )) shake him until he does whatever the trick was that he heard about was that would turn him into a card so he could fight Exodia on foot, like the gods intended.

As for other people, because it's funny to contemplate:

Ichigo: Bad at card games, collects his deck 100% based on how much he likes the card art, inexplicably manages to make something remarkably functional, even if he nearly times out a dozen times because I'm he's reading the text on every card he draws.

Rukia: Melffys.

Chad: also Melffys

Uryuu: Understands how to run a functional deck with pendulum summoning. Cannot explain it to anyone else.

Mizuiro: Has a deck because he and Mokuba are casual acquaintances and the economics of Kaibacorp fascinate him. Plays much more competently than he thinks he does.

Keigo: plays Digimon.

Orihime: Has actually known and been online friends with Tea Gardner for longer than she's known Ichigo, because the former Los Osaka High Schooler and Now Prima Ballerina is the OTHER S-ranked Fairy Deck Player in Duel Monsters Online.

---

Gotei-13:

Duel Monsters has migrated to Soul Society via Reverse London, but only some members of the Gotei-13 know of the game, let alone play with any competence.

Mayuri likes the card art and has casually attempted to re-create some of those monsters in the flesh because he was bored.

Hitsugaya thinks it's "so lame" but if you ask him why it's lame he has remarkably well-informed opinions about the game design that could only have come from getting WAAAAY too into it at one point.

Gin played duel monsters online briefly until Aizen took an interest, because the concept of matching wits with a total stranger who couldn't see him either intrigued him. Gin taught him the basics, (these are the three scores that matter, the rest is conditions creation, you'll love it-!) and released him into the forums. Tousen enjoyed a nice three-month vacation as Aizen got addicted to online play until he entered an unranked tournament and got wasted in two turns by someone with a bunch of twee little fairies in the first round. Threw an enormous temper tantrum about it and forbade anyone, especially Gin who made it to the semi-finals, from ever mentioning the game again

Byakuya, the universal expert on all things Ambassador Wakame, took an interest in the game because he recognized the Kaibacorp Logo on a card Rukia had. There is very little Wakame Ambassador Merch in soul society because it's actually a Living World IP, and Byakuya had noted that the company that owned all things Wakame Ambassador had been purchased by Kaibacorp. He asks Rukia, who tells him all about Duel Monsters, and that there is an entire Kaibaland Theme Park a few cities over from where she was deployed in the living world.

"...would it be possible to contact this Seto Kaibacorp?" Byakuya frowns into the middle distance.

A week later, Rukia unexpectedly opens a gate into Ichigo's Bedroom at 2AM.

"Not directly but anybody can write to his company and the message might get passed along- like how Rikichi sorts all the mail addresses to you that gets sent to the sixth." Rukia shrugs. "You'd need a return address in the living world for him to write back though."

-

"Gah!" She yelps.

"THIS IS WHY YOU CALL AND WAIT FOR PERMISSION TO COME OVER!" Ichigo, home from undergrad for the week, growls at her.

"Hi Miss Rukia!" Orihime waves from on top of Ichigo, not bothering to get dressed.

"Uh, um- congratulations?" Rukia mumbles, covering her face.

"What happened now?" Ichigo groaned, reaching for his pants.

"My bro- Captain Kuchiki requests your assistance in delivering a message to a human in the living world!" She stammers, thrusting the message in his general direction.

"Rukia I don't think this will go through the postal system..." Orihime mutters taking it from her instead of putting on clothes or moving from her position on top of Ichigo.

"What? I thought we put enough stamps on it-? Gah! Please put on a shirt!" Rukia yelps.

"Rukia you know what boobs are." Orihime mutters, studying the missive. "I'll just put this in a box and mail it to them in the morning, okay?"

"Yeah! Sure! Fine!" Rukia sputters, reopening the gate as fast as she can.

"REMEMBER TO CALL NEXT TIME!" Ichigo hollers after her.

-

The Brothers Kaiba stared at the message.

"I'd say it looks like someone tried to mail me from the Meji Era but I've had enough of time-travelling bourgeoisie for one lifetime." Seto grumbled.

"That's not what you were saying last night!" Atem teased from over the video call.

"I mean, if I'm doing the calculations right, and he really is offering to pay us in bullion, that's like... Ten times what the Wakame Ambassador IP is worth." Mokuba frowned at the figures laid out in neat but archaic handwriting on the medieval-looking scroll that arrived in a box, but covered with postage from six different countries inside.

"...when do you get back again?" Seto glared at Atem through the call.

"Not until June, my impatient lord of dragons." Atem smirked.

"...fuck it, let's meet this guy." Seto decided. "He can't be any weirder than everyone else I know."

-

Lord Byakuya Kuchiki was, in fact, on par with, if not actually over the median level of weirdness in Seto's circle of tolerated people.

He really did look and speak like he'd stepped out of a time machine from the late 1800's and was, indeed, completely up front and honest about purchasing the rights to Wakame Ambassador and any merchandise Kaibacorp had, with a chest full of gold bullion.

Unlike most of Seto's acquaintances-with-benefits, Lord Kuchiki was polite, addressed him with a proper level of respect, perfectly straightforward in his request and even explained that he knew he was over-paying, but he'd been on the wrong side of copyright law before, and at least some of this was overvaluing the property as insurance that someone wouldn't attempt to buy it out from under him.

"...Alright, we have a deal." Seto smirked, leaning back in his chair. "I have to ask though- why Wakame Ambassador, of all things?"

"Why the Blue Eyes White Dragon?" He gestured to the office's distinct decoration with a knowing smile. "There is no shame here- if anything, I admire the boldness with which you live your truth."

Seto squinted at him for a long moment, before slowly cracking a smile. "Alright- you tell me about Wakame Ambassador and I'll tell you about her."

-

"Unbelievable." Mokuba gaped.

"I didn't know it was possible." Muttered Rukia.

The two dark-haired, diminutive siblings of more famous older brothers regarded each other for a moment.

"Does. Does yours not talk either?" Mokuba asked, pointing into the office where Kaiba and Kuchiki had been excitedly discussing something non-stop for the better part of three hours.

"I'm lucky if I can get a dozen words out of him a week." Rukia gawked. "He. He doesn't smile like that either? What the hell??"

"Seto smiles, but it's usually a threat- I. I don't think I've ever seen him this chill before..." Mokuba marveled at the scene before them.

"Do we... Leave them to it?" Rukia muttered.

"We'll never get on any of the rides at this rate." Grumbled Karin, who had heard the words "roller coaster park" and elbowed Ichigo in the stomach to take the job of escorting the Kuchiki siblings to Kaibaland from him. "Yuzu?"

Yuzu, who had been drafted into the expedition because she could actually make sense of the high-speed rail system, closed the book she'd been reading with a sigh and stuck her head in the door.

"Mr. Kuchiki? I'm sorry to interrupt, but we left so early I didn't get to eat breakfast, and it's past lunchtime now..." She said, giving the highly manipulatable shinigami her best Precious Moments Figurine face.

"Huh?" Kaiba blinked, then look down at the clock on his desk. "...How is it one thirty?"

Kuchiki looked at something that might have been a cell phone or a large beetle. Seto had learned to stop asking those questions. "Good heavens, you must be starving! Is there a commissary or..?"

"No way, we've got a food expo going on at the Astrodome. They can have whatever they want, on me." Seto shook his head, getting up and waving for them to follow.

"What the FUCK?" Mokuba whispered.

"Oh wow!" Rukia gasped, eyes sparkling "-do you think there will be carrot cake?"

"-So tell me about this Agents Of Nori filler arc," Seto said with genuine fascination as the two men walked down the hall, leaving bewildered siblings in their wake.

-

Yugi frowned at the latest Duel Monsters expansion with concern for the better part of ten minutes before slowly looking up at Mokuba on the other side of the living room "...I feel like I missed something important."

"What?" Mokuba blinked, looking up from his CapMon spreadsheets. "Oh, yeah. Seto made a friend who got him into this bizarre old cartoon, so now there's a line of cards based on the IP. I think it's a birthday present because the guy got some author to write up a novelisation of the new Blue Eyes canon for his."

Yugi stared blankly at Mokuba.

"Seto."

"Yes."

"...Made a friend?"

"Yyyyyyep."

"...on his own? Organically?"

"Believe it or not, Seto does pay attention to your friendship speeches." Mokuba glared.

"...I'm. I'm glad? I just can't get my head around it. What did he DO?" Yugi glared.

"...It's not so much that Seto did anything so much as Mr. Kuchiki is a very similar type and degree of fucking weirdo Seto is, and due to your good influence, Seto didn't immediately panic about that and... They just kind of..." Mokuba pursed his lips, trying to think of a word, and instead interlaced his fingers. "-meshed. Like gears."

Yugi's stare went from blank befuddlement to Great fear "I cannot overstate how alarming the concept of Two Setos is. We did that once, and the universe almost ended."

"Nah, it's fine.- if anything, he's a good example." Mokuba waved. "Kuchiki has an even bigger and more proactive cadre of friends that follow him around and holler if he misbehaves, so he's a lot more domesticated than Seto is."

Yugi sat on the couch, trying to imagine a less feral Seto, and could feel himself getting a headache.

"Kuchiki also looks and acts like he stepped fresh out of the Heian-era imperial court scene." Mokuba added.

"THERE IT IS!" Yugi sighed with relief.

[deathsmallcaps]

I’m autistic and despite growing up with a Black Stepdad and Black friends, and thinking the Civil Rights movement and the Civil War were cool, and even going to schools with pretty inclusive curriculums, I sometimes repeated mean things I heard (often from my Dad) or did not give thought to how certain lines of questioning/conversation may feel different towards different people. I was, and still occasionally am, racist. Among other things.

(I initially grew up in an almost exclusively Black and white town that was roughly half & half, and later moved to an area that was more half & half Indian and white. I have only ever lived in the east half of the USA)

Sure I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Sure I did believe that everyone should be treated well. Sure I loved the Black people around me. I’ve never said the n-word - I didn’t even know it existed until I read Roots by Alex Haley. But I didn’t consider nuance, I didn’t consider feelings in my thirst for knowledge, and frankly, I have a tendency to be obnoxious. ALL normal things for an autistic person. But ALL things that are quite hurtful. After all, don’t we get hurt when someone stereotypes us?

Looking back, I feel like my Stepdad should have been more active in my social education. He wouldn’t have been educating some random white person who walked up and hurt him, he’d have been teaching his daughter (he’s always treated me how his family treats daughters, for better and for worse).

But my mom, the white woman, stepped up as a good ally. SHE gave me Roots. SHE talked me through dealing with ‘white guilt’ and how that’s nobody’s problem but mine. SHE encouraged me to educate myself, and to consider what I say before I say it. SHE helped me realize my privilege. With help from a psychologist, we both learned how to handle my social issues. And now I’d say I’m a more conscious person. It doesn’t hurt that one of my English classes focused on the Harlem Renaissance and another taught Othello and Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison. Since then, I’ve sought out media and information by and about creators of Color and my relationship with my Black family members and friends has definitely improved.

I’m lucky guy. My autism is not the most debilitating in the world, and I do think it gives me valuable insight into said world. Acknowledging it helped me gain insight into how I work.

But I’m still an upper-middle class Anglo-American culturally-Christian white adult whose worst personal interaction with the cops is getting a speeding ticket. The only things I could possibly be oppressed about here is my sex/gender and if someone clocks my neurodivergencies. Maybe my allyship if its a REALLY crazy situation. It’s my responsibility to be aware of my privilege, love my fellow humans, and educate myself on how to respect others. Loving does NOT equal respecting. They’re different things. Just like how your family may genuinely love you but do not respect or understand you.

All those things on the news, about children getting shot because they’re wearing their hoodies up, or having a panic attack, or whatever bullshit excuse a white person with a gun can dream up. Those are extreme and something to be worried about. That kind of behavior should be condemned. But that doesn’t cover every single angle of oppression. And oppression isn’t just perpetuated by the nebulous concept of The System! It’s also perpetuated by Our Common Man. AKA, you and me sometimes.

Sometimes, you’re going to reach out in ways that have worked before and it’s not going to be appropriate. That hurts! But if you do your best to incorporate that info into what you’ve learned, then that’s awesome! I’m proud of you! You’re going to have to keep doing it though!!! And that’s okay!!! That just means you’re getting to live life!!!

Apologize and/or change the subject and educate yourself soon after. Those are some of the best skills you can have. You can’t go back, you can only improve the future.

Another really good bunch is being honest and introspecting on why certain things make you uncomfortable. Once you know, own it and desensitize! Be a good friend!

This is getting very long. If you want some concrete examples,

Some of these things happened because I am autistic. Some may have happened because I was a white kid. But for whatever reason it occurred, as an autistic older teen and now adult, I needed to learn from these experiences so I can help make the future better :). You are capable of learning these things too.

Problem: I once asked a Black friend how it was to be Black. I was trying to educate myself! It wasn’t appropriate though. I kept asking repeatedly, and we were like 13. She was a child and shouldn’t have to have the answer.

Solution: My mom redirected me to Black literature so I could learn from adults willing to talk about it. She didn’t owe me information, nobody does, but especially not kids.

Problem: I was 16 (in 2017). I was talking to a Filipino American* girl who was just coming out of homeschool. I wanted to be nice and relate to her, and I loved Disney. Turns out so did she! I asked if Mulan was her favorite Disney Princess. My thinking was ‘I like Tiana best but I really liked seeing Anna because we have the same hair color -> I know representation is important because (at the very least) it’s nice to see people who look like you being heroes -> Mulan is cool and the Asian princess ™. I was trying to relate and be kind. But that wasn’t appropriate. I made a general assumption, and made her uncomfortable. Mulan was a favorite of hers, it turned out, but that does NOT matter. A person’s relationships with their demographic’s stereotypes are extremely private unless shared. And it’s THEIR right to close it up again.

*despite Filipino and Filipina being gendered, when saying demographic information, such as ‘Filipino American’ about a woman, the trend is towards -o. I couldn’t find a direct answer, but multiple sources said Filipino-American about ladies.

Solution: Remember everyone is an individual and may not want to talk about all aspects of their life. Let them offer information about aspects that you aren’t knowledgeable about, like being of Filipino descent, or being homeschooled, or how it is being a Disney fan of Color. If they bring it up, offer responses like ‘I didn’t know that. Cool!’ Or make encouraging noises like ‘huh!’ Or ‘neat!’ So they know it’s safe to keep talking to you about a subject that is important but sensitive to them. And they might not ever bring these things up! And that’s okay. It’s their business. Retrain your nosiness elsewhere, it’s hard but possible :)

I must reiterate: A person’s relationships with their demographic’s stereotypes are extremely private unless shared - and it’s THEIR right to close the subject. And for the record, just because there is a Southeast Asian Disney Princess now (Raya), it would NOT have been appropriate to ask if her favorite was Raya. That’s still stereotyping, it’s just updated for the 2020s.

Problem: I love name meanings. I couldn’t find my one Indian-American classmate’s name meaning online, so I went up to him and after starting a pointed conversation, I told him my name’s meaning in the hope he’d tell me his. He did, but he was uncomfortable. Because I didn’t really talk to that guy before, and in a roundabout way socially coerced him into giving up information to a relative stranger. Information he probably didn’t care that much about, but it was obvious I only wanted one thing from him. It was rude and showed that I hadn’t really cared about him before I wanted something from him. And people generally don’t like being treated like living wikipedias of their cultures!

Solution: sometimes you’re going to have to accept you aren’t owed information. This also applies to my first example. If you can’t find information online, even if you find the perfect subreddit that welcomes questions like these*, they might not give you an answer. And that’s okay. It might drive you a little mad about missing that bit of information, but it will not end your world. Trust me. I’m putting a lot of personal mess-ups on here, I’m not going to start lying to you now.

*people don’t like being treated like walking Wikipedias for their cultures in general, but sometimes the armor of online anonymity makes people more comfortable sharing. Not always though. Maybe check other questions from other people in that subreddit or tumblr or whatever to find an appropriate format, or get a general sense of what kind of questions are answered happily. You may just have to let it go.

Problem: when I was 17 my mom introduced me to two women, a Black woman and a white woman. She told me offhandedly that one played in an American football adult league for fun. Being a feminist, I was really excited by that, because American football is a very male sport. I didn’t end up talking to either of them about it, but I sure thought a lot about that during that encounter. Afterwards, I said something to my mom that made it clear I thought the Black woman was the football player. She corrected me and said “You thought it was [her] because she’s Black,”. She was correct, I felt terrible for stereoptyping, and I cried (I cry easily). I wanted to go apologize or something. My mom pointed out that the apology would be for me, not for her. Which is an issue (I still struggle with this in many different contexts)

Solution: if you want to apologize, ask yourself ‘Am I doing this because I want the person I hurt to know how apologetic I am? Am I doing this because I want to hear ‘it’s okay’?’. If either of those has a yes as the answer, then reconsider making the apology. If the person really does appreciate apologies, then offer one. But keep it simple. Don’t mention your feelings or why you messed up. That doesn’t matter, and can make them feel guilty for their own valid feelings. And regardless, focus more on not repeating the behavior. That’s the best apology, even if you never see the person you hurt again. You hurt someone, so *I must stress this* it is NOT about you.

Problem: I’m going to college in a very white town (it fits my budget). My first week there, a white friend E was talking about her friend P, who I was to meet later that day. She mentioned they are a minority (E is from that white college town and is still learning too. She’s improved quite a bit. She doesn’t lead with that kind of information anymore) who was also from the area. I was confused. I had pretty much only seen white or white-passing people the last few days. I asked, and she told me they were Indian* and from a local people (among others. Like many Indigenous people, P isn’t from just one Indigenous or only-Indigenous culture). I was shocked. I was under the impression that all the Indigenous people from [college] area were killed or forcibly removed or assimilated.

*P prefers the term Indian when talking about themself or their family, due to their multiculturalism and preference to older terms, but the most polite thing is to refer to an Indigenous person by their People. So if you’re talking about M, your Salish friend, and for some reason his ethnicity comes up, call him Salish - not Indian, not Native American, not Indigenous. Unless he prefers those terms. Though individuals generally prefer the more culture-specific name. If you’re talking about a group of different people or peoples who are original inhabitants of the Americas or Australia or the Pacific Islands (and sometimes Africa), then use Indigenous. That being said, always defer to personal preference.

Solution: I let P bring up info about their peoples when they wanted. I looked up some things later. I also did some research and found that the Indigenous people of my [home] area weren’t all gone either. I had been taught in my state history class who they were exactly, and then they were never never brought up again. Then I learned about things like the Trail of Tears and residential schools, and assumed their culture was effectively dead. I was wrong, thankfully!

Problem: This is not exactly racist but I feel that it’s relevant. I’m talking to this guy right now. A couple weeks ago, we went out and I brought up a question that I thought was pretty normal for dates/conversations where you get to know one another. “What do your parents do?” After all, parents’ occupations affect you! He told me that his mom is working as a fruit seller after being laid off and his dad was laid off (his parents are divorced like mine) and is currently unemployed. FAUX PAS! Yikes. Both of my dads have histories of unemployment (my Dad likes to quit, my Stepdad has gotten laid off multiple times*) but all are employed right now. And I know how awkward (at the very least!) it is to be in that situation, especially money-wise.

Solution: I looked up bad questions to ask on dates later and yup! That was on there. Don’t talk money until you you’re serious. Apparently doing it so early on is a very white/privileged thing. One website I read even said that explicitly.

*Once you get laid off once, you’re often a new hire at a company. And being a new hire, you’re more likely to be laid off, because companies value seniority. Thus, a self-perpetuating situation unfortunately. I wouldn’t be surprised if other factors came into play - reminder: my stepdad is Black, and employers may use that information when choosing which new hire to let go. But we know for sure that seniority is definitely part of the issue.

General Reminder 1: Don’t ask to touch or talk about Black people’s hair. No comments about getting it wet, how it’s different from yours, how working with it must be different, interesting little factoids you may have learned about their hair, weaves, wigs, and so on. If you genuinely have curly hair at 2c-ish or higher (see picture), then it’s a different story. You may have something in common that’s fun to talk about! Comments on how nice it looks are sometimes okay, but consider: are you only saying these complements when it’s straightened or braided? Or only when it’s natural? If you really are only complementing them when it’s on one side of the spectrum, then that’s an issue. Respect Black hair as an art form or even just a part of existence, in its entirety.

Also don’t say it’s kinky or wild hair. Black people can sometimes use those terms for themselves but it isn’t for us. There’s literally a ton of historical laws and economies that have oppressed Black people’s hair and those are some of the things that we should just listen to them about.

This can applied to other cultures’/races’ clearly visible differences from your own features, too.

General reminder 2: look at the kind of things you like to watch, or read, or even react with, like memes. Are they making fun of the minority people in those books? Would that meme be as funny to you if the person in the picture had facial features more like yours? Are the people who look like the person in that meme using that meme? Are People of Color getting to talk and have non-stereotypical storylines in your TV show? Are they even there?

Lastly: You’ve read all this advice from a white person. Go seek out advice, stories and more from other sources!!! It might hurt in the moment but that’s just called growing pains. You will still make mistakes but you have to look to the future! Learning from the sources themselves will be a lot more useful towards creating a pattern of information and behavior your autistic brains can utilize :). Let’s all go be better allies!

The books and authors I mentioned are great places to start and another really good one that I cannot recommend enough is the Levar Burton Reads podcast. But don’t just read fiction. Crack open some history books or podcasts or tv shows. Give yourself some context. Personally I adore Wikipedia when I want to find out more but I don’t have a book. Okay I’ll stop.

idgaf how autistic you are stop being racist😭😭

[militaryapple]

SHE'S SWEET LIKE CANDY!

synopsis. you spot something when you're out at the mall with tara. you cant help but think about your boyfriend who's at work doing the best he can, so why not give him a little gift?

cw. fem! reader, unprotected, praise, dirty talk, fingering, squirting, face fucking, cunnilingus, making him whine, petnames, make him beg for you girl, well its caleb so he a lil nasty icl, nicest I've written caleb

add ons. THIS LITERALLY CAME INTO MY HEAD WHILE LISTENING TO THE SONG OHH MY GODDDD GUYSSSHEBDHEB

wc. 2.9k

it wasn’t everyday you wore lingerie. actually, you didn’t even wear it. you thought the clothing was cute - sexy even! it just.. wasn’t something you were much into. well that was until you saw the set hanging up in a store you passed with tara. you couldn’t take your eyes off it - everytime you found yourself circling around back to the store at the mall, tara now being annoyed with you.

“i thought you weren’t that into lingerie?” she nudges you. she was right— you weren’t, but the thought of you putting it on, spreading yourself on the bed, waiting for him to come home and devour you. the sensation. you needed to buy this - it was a sign.

“i wasn’t” you retorted. sure, you didn’t really think of yourself as the type of woman to put on a show, but you couldn’t help but think about how he’d look at you. maybe he’d slowly glide your hands over the baby doll shaped dress, his hands would gently fondle your tits until your moaning for him - maybe his mouth would kiss all around you while he told you how gorgeous you looked in your newly bought clothes.

you needed that matching set.

“but trying something new wouldn’t hurt, right? it’s pretty cute too ‘tars” you nudged her back. your eyes flickered away from the glass that so proudly showed off the matching set going to your friend. tara glanced from you, to the set, back to you. her eyes scrutinizing you, her gaze watching your movements, face and even posture. it went until a moment after she moved her hands to her mouth. her face contorting into a shocked expression.

“you’re trying to impress - no, show out for someone!” tara yelled in a hush. this wasn’t a question, it was pure fact to her. oh how you hated how correct she was too, fine. you were trying to show out for someone. she wasn’t going to know that. she wouldn’t let you live it down. for sakes it was for caleb after all! part of you thinks he does deserve a little sweet treat for all the hard work he’s been doing for you.

“whaaaaaat? no! what makes you think that? i’m just.. getting more comfortable in my skin y’know?” you tried to avoid her gaze. it was scary how accurate she was on most things, like, crazy accurate. maybe you should cut her off from those spiritual classes, they were obviously working horrible wonders for her.

tara tried to hide the snicker that was coming from her. her hands returning back to her sides before she grabbed your wrist. “fine fine, let’s go get you fitted in the set you’re eyeing. i’ll pay for it - think of it as a celebration! i’ve been waiting for this moment!” you could only sigh.

this was going to be a long while.

when you finally returned home, you thanked tara before rushing up to your door and making your way inside. you could admit, you were partly excited. you couldn’t see yourself fully in the set but based off tara’s inputs you looked ‘totally sexy!’ whatever. you checked your phone and looked at the text that caleb sent you, your face in a smile.

“be home soon pip’s! can’t wait to see what you bought back home! hopefully you got me a gift :)”

oh, you got him a gift. you sure did. you couldn’t help the excited kicks you did before getting the house ready. you started the shower and made sure to get your good razor and body scrub. your washing routine being extra careful. you got out, now scrambling to dry off and get the set.

it took you a minute but you got it on, you rushed back to your bathroom and started to do your hair and makeup, making sure it was subtle but enough to give you a little boost. oh and were you were feeling yourself. anxiously, you made your way to your mirror. your gaze glancing over your body, your face, hair. you looked put together.

you giggled to yourself, striking a pose or two and taking a photo. did you want to surprise caleb when he got home? yes, yes you did. but could you contain yourself? no. no you couldn’t. you set up your room and cleaned up the house a bit before making your way to your bed and settling down. you whipped out your phone and sent a pretty little text to caleb.

“i got you a little something on the side too, wanted to show you now. i can’t wait til you come home, hurry :(” - 1 photo attached.

your bit your finger anxiously. he read it. no response. your mind wandered, what if he didn’t like it? is he weirded out now? did he not want to see you like this? god were you anxious. you couldn’t stand waiting; especially since he didn’t reply to you.

it didn’t take long until you heard the rattling of your door, your head perking up as you got back into the position you were in. he’s home. you scrambled around while the rattling stop and sounds of footsteps filled the air, getting closer and closer to your room.

your door creaked open, caleb stood there, his gaze unwavering from you. his eyes fixed on you while a smile creeped on his face. “so i didn’t imagine it.” he said softly. “welcome home, honey.” you said back oh so sweetly.

caleb didn’t take any time when it came to you, his hands finding their way around your body, his lips kissing every part of you that he could feel. how euphoric this was for both you and him. you were so sweet for him, he could almost cry. “so,” he said whispering, his head digging into your neck. “what made you get dolled up for me? hm? did i do something good?” his voice was intoxicating. how he spoke with such urgency but he was so gentle.

“hmm.. well you’ve been working so hard for me. you deserved something.” you smiled, your hands finding his. caleb felt like he could melt. just for him? for working like he’s always done? oh fuck, it was enough to make his cock twitch with eagerness.

“who am i to deny something so sweet? especially since it’s a gift from you.” he grabbed your hips, turning you over so he could see you on top of him. you were beautiful. his hands roamed around your body, he couldn’t get enough of you. your curves, the way you swayed your hips, how you arched so naturally for him, how you were made for him.

your hands found their way to his face, and he couldn’t help but lean into them letting out a soft moan. “you look really pretty, and I mean ‘fuckin gorgeous.” his words were shaky. his eyes dawned on you. your hands making their way to his jaw, then to his lips. glazing over them slightly before you bent down to give him kisses. such a good idea to wear lipstick.

your lips stained his body, it was proof. proof on how you owned him, how he was yours forevermore. caleb couldn’t help but snicker. “you having fun there?” and you nodded. you reached for his uniform, undoing it and tossing his clothes to the side. your pussy throbbed at the sight of him like this. he was so fucking pretty, like a puppy. the way his eyes looked up at you in a way where he was pleading you to let him ruin your body. the way your lipstick matched such a perfect shade for his skin and how messy his lips looked.

he looked fucking messy, and you haven’t even started.

caleb gripped your thighs, “cmon baby don’t be like that, I’m dying here.” his hips rolling - sending a shiver down your spine. you let out a moan, your hands running down his exposed chest. “i know baby” you coo. your hands moving back, finding his cock and palming it through his pants. you could drink up this sight of him and it was one of the days where his robotic arm was exposed? you were in heaven.

“fuck, fuck fuck fuck, that feels good - real good, please,” his hips bucking up. your hands sliding away while his moans turned into pleas. caleb squeezed on your hip. “no, no no no please baby let me, I’ve been a real good boy.” oh fuck did that do something to you. his face soft with an sad expression. he was so so cute you couldn’t help but tease him. your cunt throbbed from negligence. you leaned down and kissed him again, smiling. “then be a good dog and eat me out.”

you settled your body on his face, not sitting fully but enough for him to taste you. caleb let out a scoff before grabbing your thighs and tugging you down, pushing all your weight on him. “oh cmon baby, i wanna taste all of you.” and that’s what he did. caleb licked your folds and sucked on your nub, his tongue licking your slit and drinking up your arousal. he was eating you out like a starved man.

your hands gripped on his hair, your hips swayed on his lips to his nose. oh fuck did he feel good. caleb used his hands to feel your bra. it was nice, pretty. it suit you so fucking well, fuck you were his pretty girl. he whimpered, allowing you to ride his face. what’d they say? save a plane & ride a pilot? whatever it was, this was fucking it.

caleb placed sloppy kisses around your entrance, using his evol to keep you down while he was able to continue touching you. “if you keep moving baby, i can’t eat my dinner properly.” he chuckled. his tongue finding itself inside your dripping cunt, you couldn’t help but let out a loud moan. fuck he was a natural. you twitched while calebs mouth worked wonders on you.

“caleb — caleb ‘m gonna, oh oh please make me cum make me cum,” you whined. his mouth picking up speed as he kissed and licked you. fuck did he make you stupid. caleb placed his last kiss before he felt you twitch. his evol letting you move freely while he flipped you both. “look at your panties baby, they’re all soaked now.” he teased.

you couldn’t help but push him a little. caleb snickered before removing his gloves, his fingers now freed while he kissed your chest. “gonna make you cum a few more times ‘kay?” he smiled. before you could respond his fingers disappeared and your stomach does flips. his fingers big, and long, making your toes curl. “oh fuck, you’re so good caleb — so fucking good for me.”

caleb couldn’t deny, hearing you praise him make his cock throb. he wanted to make you feel like heaven and earth combined. his fingers curling upward making your gasp for air, his thumb rubbing circles on the nub of your clit. “aw baby, i really make you feel that good?” he teased. you grabbed his arm nodding and whining. you wiggled under him - your eyes glistening.

“gonna cum? cmon say you are.” he coo’d. you moaned, body shaking as you tried to at least form a sentence. “yes yes yes ‘m close please please please” god you sounded pathetic under him. he loved it. your walls clenched on his fingers as he stretched you and kissed you. “okay, cum for me then pretty baby.”

you did exactly that. coating his fingers with your juices. you felt weak, and caleb sat up. “what about me baby? i need to cum to.” he said sadly. his cock practically imprinting on his pants. you couldn’t just leave your dear boyfriend like this. you got up, pulling on his waistband and revealing his dick. did he seem.. bigger???

“from all the teasing you’re doing to me. not to mention this cute little outfit you got on.” his face wide in a smile. his tip was swollen, pink and veiny. curling up just enough to hit every one of your sweet spots. you saw the pre-cum that leaked from his slit and you couldn’t help but give it kisses.

“oh, fuck. that’s it baby.” caleb moaned, his hand making its way around your hair, and rubbing your chin.

you looked up at him, swirling your tongue around his tip. fucking perfect. was all he was able to think before you used your other hand to start pumping his cock.

he was big, it took a minute for you to relax your lips and jaw around his head, but once you felt okay; your mouth slammed on him. caleb cried out when he felt you start sucking him. his hands that were once gentle and soft now rough; grabbing your hair and bucking his hips up.

you let your tongue relax while caleb grabbed your head and rammed his cock in your mouth, abusing your throat. “i can’t help it ‘m sorry please you feel so good - so tight.” he pleas. your eyes on him while he looks completely drunk off you. he was such a pretty fucker.

his cock tightened, and your throat slacken. caleb looked down at you and moved his hands to your face. plugging your nose.

it didn’t take long for caleb to be slamming into your mouth aimlessly. his hips spurt and a ‘pop!’ sound comes from your mouth, caleb’s dick hitting your face while he came all over it. you gasped and moan. “thaaaat’s it pretty girl.”

caleb moved behind you, his hands cupping your bra then moving to the straps, undoing the clips and taking the bra off. “the sheer gown stays on.” he kisses your neck. “you look so pretty in it.”

he pushed you down gently, bringing your ass up and aligning his cock with your entrance. caleb bit his lip, “need you to relax up a little okay?” he asked, and then he eased his way in. you felt so fucking warm. the way you clenched around his cock so nicely - how he stretched you even after prepping you. it was delicious.

caleb thrusted into you, hitting your cunt in all different ways. his pace picking up speed while he groaned. “got all pretty for me, do you know how hard it was to keep my composure at work?” he whined, snapping his hips back to you. his abs rocking against you. “couldn’t even jerk myself, fuck fuck, I came home as soon as I could just for you baby.”

he was mean. his tip kissing your cervix over and over again making you into a wobbly slobbering mess of cries and moans. caleb brought his hand down right between your thighs, rubbing circles over your already crying cunt. “reeeaal nasty girl you got here baby.” he teased you, placing a kiss on your back.

caleb grabbed your hips, slamming into you continuously. you couldn’t help but rock your hips attempting to match his pace. fuck did he like the view. his pretty baby, who once was dolled up now defiled into a pathetic whiny mess. “caleb - caleb,” you whined in your pillow. makeup smearing everywhere, nice one. now you have to buy a new pillow set.

you felt yourself getting close.

it was coming fast.

you lifted your head, moaning at the feeling of caleb’s cock burying itself back into your walls and out again. euphoric. “i feel weird. so weird baby please —”

caleb hushed you “i know baby it’s okay, im close too, yeah? come on baby come on.” he coo’s. caleb’s hips snapped and you felt a little ‘pop!’ and then a nudge near your stomach. he was in. fully. you moaned and gripped your sheets, tears streaming down your face as caleb fucked you like he was in heat.

caleb nipped at your tits, he fucking loved them. how perky and sensitive they were, how everytime he kissed them you whined in response, hell, caleb loved everything about your body. when it came to you he wanted to touch and explore you. his pretty doll.

he grabbed your arms, bringing you up and kissing your neck. “cum for me baby, cmon you can do it.” he hummed. oh how those words felt like heaven for you. it wasn’t until you started twitching as caleb now thrusted slower into you, and then it happened.

you sprinkled out a clear liquid on his cock. twitching and moaning while it dripped everywhere, you panted and whined. your body relaxing as you collapse while caleb came right inside your cunt. grunting, watching the little show you gave him.

caleb pulled out of you in awe. “did you just squirt all over me?” he teased you. you heaved, letting out small “m sorry”s. caleb could only chuckle at the sight.

“it’s fine baby, it was a show for me. felt good!” he smiled. caleb could see you were tapping out, breathing heavily as your lingerie was now messy with sweat, cum and what he liked to call ‘pussy juice.’ he smiled, his eyes looking over you and then placing a kiss on your cheek as you flopped to your side.

“i’ll get the water running, this was a nice gift princess. i might start buying you more lingerie sets from now on.” he chuckled before walking out the room.

yeah, maybe you could get used to this.

[peter-pumpkin-eater]

Just sit there and look pretty

Caleb x gn!reader

summary: You give Caleb a heart attack with the way you use a kitchen knife.

warnings: one (1) gendered pet name (pretty girl) , fluff

word count: 502

“Hey pip, what you doing in the ki-” Caleb’s sentence was cut short when his eyes landed on the way you were holding a way to big of a knife for cutting slices of cheese. He thinks he’s having a heart attack. In his next breath he’s beside you, his hand covering yours holding the knife and pushing it to lay flat on the counter.

“Wh- hey! Caleb! I’m using that.” You wiggle your hand free and Caleb slides the knife across the counter, well out of your reach.

“Baby please. You’re going to hurt yourself holding it like that.” He gently takes your hand, turning it this way and that to see if you had cut yourself without knowing. “I told you to call me when you want something, yeah?”

“Caleb.” you yank your hand back. “I can make myself food. I’m not incompetent.” You lean past him to grab the knife back, but the shimmer of his iridescent evol moves the knife to the other side of the kitchen. You frown up at him. 

“Let me make you a sandwich.”

“Caleb.” you say sternly. 

“Please?” His voice almost cracks. Puppy dog eyes pleading with you. You curse your weak resolve, folding your arms across your chest, eyes flicking away from his face and to the floor. 

“Yeah, whatever.” Caleb beams. He scoops you up by your thighs and plops you on the counter. A squeak of protest escapes you before being resigned to your fate. 

Caleb is quick to grab everything he needs, moving around the kitchen with practised ease. “Just sit there and look pretty for me? Okay? Okay.” He winks in your direction before continuing your butcher work on the cheese block. You sigh and lean backwards on your palms, kicking your legs as they dangle over the edge. Caleb loves doing things for you. Making you food, running to the shops when you’re craving something, he even used to do your homework just so you could spend more time with him. It’s gotten to the point where he could predict when you needed something before you even voiced it. 

You looked back to the sandwich being built. It was your favourite. Obviously. Everything you like being made by the person you like. You flush. This was stupid. 

“So am I not allowed in the kitchen at all then?” you mumble, making sure to kick your legs against the side of the counter. Thunk thunk. His large hand sliding onto your knee and gives it a squeeze, stopping it from swinging. 

“If it was up to me I would just keep you in your room, pretty girl.” He looks away from your finished sandwich and smirks at you. There was something darker in his eyes, but it vanished just as fast as it came. “I’ll let you help me cook dinner. But, leave the knife work to me.”

You perk up, sitting straighter. “Can I work the stove?” 

“How about you wash the vegetables.” Your smile drops.

“Boo.”

[bunni-v1]

relating to your last ask that included arguments between shadow milk and his lover, i cannot get the following picture out of my head:

his doll, while a bit (a bit more) off-put by the whole truthless recluse situation, is very much "whatever, their soul jam, their business" about it

however-

what grinds their gears is the fact that kids (aka the gingerbrave gang) are involved

i can just imagine them going off on shadow milk like "listen, i get it, your plans but they are kids. literal children?? keep them out of this-" "no, doll, listen, they're scheming kids-"

ik this isn't really an ask, but i just wanted to share it :)) love your writing, you're amazing, and your shadow milk headcanons live rent free in my brain (actually i am paying them-)

Lolololol (Feel like a mysmes character typing ts... okay), I guess we can say this is ur rent. I'm happy for your payment though, it's good food for thought my love! Have a little midnight snack as a treat!

Just imagine you're someone who's more compassionate. It's something that Shadow Milk Cookie cherishes about you... when it's directed at him. You're always worrying over him and his little henchmen, Candy Apple especially since she's so young. It's annoying, but it's sweet how much you dote on them, and he can't say he dislikes the idea of you in a more parental role...

It becomes an issue when those little pests come around. You've never nosed your way into his business at all, leaving things between him and Pure Vanilla to be what they are. He prefers it like that, keeping you out of trouble was always a positive on his mind. Oh, but then those cute little annoying snotty nosed brats come along and ruin everything.

It wouldn't have been an issue if you hadn't overheard him threaten to drown them. It not like he was actually going to, he was just poking at Truthless Recluse, that's all. You didn't take it though, you were all kinds of pissed off at him.

He thinks it's a silly thing to be upset about, you know he didn't care enough about those kids to do much of anything to them. Yet, you remain upset, even after things are done and Compassionate Pure Vanilla has TEMPORARILY taken him and his plans down. It stumps him, he can't possibly wrap his mind around what's gotten into you. Such a small insignificant act is nothing compared to half of what you've seen him do.

When you refuse to say more than a few words to him, he starts to worry. What did he do wrong? Well, you told him, but why was it so bad this time? The best answers come from the source, of course, but getting it out of you might be a little harder than he likes.

"Doll? Dolly? Little star? Won't you talk to me?" He pouts, trailing behind you like a lost puppy.

You might've teased him if you weren't so upset now. You keep your nose upturned, doing your best not to crack under his relentless pressure. He could be so persistent about these things, and normally you would give, but he'd crossed a line this time. You didn't mess around with children, and he should've known better.

A drawn-out sigh comes from behind you, "Are you still upset about the drowning thing? It was all in good fun I promise! Nothing to worry your pretty little head over!"

He didn't know better, though. For the former fount of knowledge -- and someone who could literally read minds if he wanted to -- he was terribly unaware sometimes. It made you so angry, and you felt bad for being angry because he really didn't get it.

"They're just insignificant little kids, it's a silly thing to be angry about." He continues, and oh that gets a reaction out of you.

You turn around to face him, the boredom in his expression only making that anger bubble up more and more. You really can't hold it in anymore.

"Exactly, they're kids! Just kids, they don't have any stake in this. Why couldn't you let well enough alone for once!" You shout, and it feels so good to get out. Pettiness aside, you'd wanted to get it through his head since this all started.

You watch his face shift through surprise and annoyance and then flatten into an unreadable expression. It was unsettling to see, especially pointed in your direction. Still, you tried to stand your ground, though you'd never felt so small next to him. He lets the silence linger in a purposeful move, you're not sure why. It keeps you on edge the whole time, unable to tell what his next move might be.

"Dolly, they were in my way, I had no choice-" He starts, but you've had enough of the manipulation and sitting quietly.

"What threat are children to you?" Your voice breaks halfway through the sentence, tears you didn't realize were building pouring over your cheeks, "You are so frustrating sometimes. In what universe would I ever be alright with hurting children? Sometimes it's like you don't even know me!"

You don't realize he's in front of you until he's lifting your face in his hand with uncharacteristic gentleness. His face is still flat, but you see the worry shining behind his eyes.

"Y'know you shouldn't lie to the literal embodiment of deceit," He says quietly as he brushes your tears away.

You know you shouldn't, but you laugh a little at that, "I'm sorry. I'm just upset."

"No, really?"

"You don't get to joke around right now," you scoff with a halfhearted shove at his shoulder.

He hums, leaning into your vision so you have to look at him, "It's making you smile, though."

"Shadow Milk Cookie."

"Okay, okay. I get the message," He backs off, "Just don't cry anymore, please?"

You smile, "Maybe if you promise not to involve those kids more than you have to, please?"

He seems to think it over like it was a hard decision. He doesn't think much longer when you flatten a glare on him, "Alright, it's a promise! You can look at my fingers, they're not crossed either! I'll keep my word!"

You scoff at him, "What do I see in you?"

"My charm and wit, of course!" He puffs up like a proud cat, the usual grin back on his face.

"Just kiss it better you dummy!"

"Whatever you ask for, you shall receive, my little star!"

And kiss it better he does, until you can hardly remember why you were so mad at him to begin with.

[dulcescorderitas]

rough

pairings: soulless!samwinchester x reader

warnings: slapping, cussing, and implied smut

the motel room smelled like cheap whiskey and something burnt. probably whatever dean had left in the microwave before peeling out of the lot, grumbling about giving you and sam some "alone time"—which, coming from him, felt less like a kindness and more like babysitting.

the door clicked shut behind you, locking you in with the towering man sprawled lazily across the bed. sam barely acknowledged you, his long limbs stretched out, his fingers flipping a dull motel key between them like he had nothing better to do. maybe he didn’t. his soulless gaze dragged over you, slow and disinterested, like he was looking at a puzzle missing half its pieces.

“you gonna just stand there, or you planning to say something?” his voice was low, bored, just a breath away from cruel.

your teeth ground together. “what the hell was that back there, sam?”

he smirked, barely lifting his eyes from the key. “gonna have to be more specific, sweetheart.”

“don’t ‘sweetheart’ me,” you snapped. “you damn well know what i’m talking about. you let that thing rip through those people like they were nothing.”

“they were nothing,” he said simply, as if the weight of human life was no heavier than the key he twirled between his fingers.

the casual dismissal made something in your chest go hot. “you weren’t like this before.”

he scoffed. “before? you mean when i was playing pretend with a soul? that before?”

your hand moved before your brain even caught up. the crack of your palm against his cheek echoed through the shitty little room. it wasn’t a full slap—more instinct than force—but the sharp turn of his head and the slight red bloom on his skin said it landed well enough.

his response? a slow grin.

his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and something dark flickered in those empty eyes. “do it again.”

the air between you turned thick, humming with something electric, something dangerous. his head tilted, offering the other cheek this time, like he was testing you, daring you.

“sam—”

“come on,” he murmured, voice dropping to something husky, taunting. “hit me again.”

your fingers curled into a fist, and this time, you didn’t hesitate. your knuckles connected with his chest, shoving him back slightly. he let out a low chuckle, barely fazed, but something in his eyes burned hotter.

“that all you got?” he taunted, his voice a deep rumble.

your hand flew again, another slap across his face, sharper this time. he groaned, head snapping to the side, but when he turned back to you, his eyes were blown wide with something dark and dangerous. “fuck, you’re making me hard.”

“you’re disgusting,” you spat, shoving him again, your palms pressing into the solid muscle of his chest. he barely moved, only smirking as he grabbed your wrists and yanked you forward, forcing you against him.

“you love it,” he murmured, lips brushing against your ear. “you love pushing me, getting me worked up.”

your breath hitched, but you weren’t about to let him win. you wrenched free from his grip and punched his chest again, harder this time. he only grunted, his fingers flexing at his sides like he wanted to grab you, pin you, do something rough and dirty.

“i should leave you here,” you growled.

“yeah?” he leaned in, his nose brushing yours, his breath hot and heavy. “but you won’t.”

your stomach clenched at the certainty in his voice. his hands found your hips, gripping tight, dragging you flush against him. “you wanna know what i think?” he murmured, voice low and taunting. “i think you like it when i’m like this. i think you want me to bend you over this cheap-ass motel dresser and fuck you so hard you forget your own name.”

your breath hitched, heat flashing through you, but you refused to back down. instead, you slapped him again, fingers tingling from the force. his head jerked to the side, a breathy laugh slipping past his lips.

“harder,” he growled. “and then i’m gonna ruin you.”

your body thrummed, the space between you charged with something primal, something you knew you shouldn’t want this badly—but there was no turning back now.

your fingers curled in his shirt, yanking him closer instead. “shut up and kiss me, winchester.”

his answering chuckle was dark, pleased. “that’s my girl.”

and then there was no more talking.

credits of divider @toastray

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend @figthoughts @sunsbaby @ambiguous-avery @sunnyteume

[thehighladywrites]

Interview me

pairing: ceo!rhysand x secretary bimbo!reader

summary: life is hard and you need a job to stay alive. naturally, you apply at a simple job at a company you know nothing about. Well, except for the fact that your boss is a smokeshow.

warnings: swearing

amara’s note: i’m so fucking hyped for this series guysss i have so many ideas hihihihihihihi

explore azriel’s bimboverse !

explore cassian’s bimboverse !

“Shit, shit, shit—I’m soooo not gonna make it!”

Your heels clacked dramatically against the glossy, stupidly expensive floors of an even more expensive skyscraper. Ugh, why did life have to be so unfair? You were made for luxury, not working, but apparently, rent and shopping sprees didn’t pay for themselves. So, you had reluctantly applied for a simple, cute little job—being the personal secretary for some CEO.

You sprinted toward the elevator, practically flinging yourself inside just as the doors were about to close.

“No—wait! Please hold it!”

A man’s hand shot out, stopping the doors. You stumbled in, panting, before beaming up at him.

“You’re very nice! Thank you, mister!”

You didn’t notice the way his eyes slowly dragged down your body, lingering on your barely-buttoned white blouse and tight little skirt that hugged every curve.

“Yeah, no problem, sweetheart,” he said, voice dripping with something you were too busy fixing your hair to pick up on. “You work here?”

“Oh, um, not yet! I think I’m actually gonna get fired before I even get hired because I accidentally overslept. My alarm is sooooo weird.” You giggled, fixing a strand of hair.

He chuckled, pressing a button. “What floor?”

“The top one! I’m here to be the CEO’s secretary.”

His smirk widened, his eyes practically devouring you. “Oh yeah? Lucky guy. He’d be a damn fool not to snatch you up.”

You blinked, confused. “Huh? I mean I haven’t got much experience, not sure he’s be that lucky.”

His creepy grin didn’t falter. “Yeah. Sure that’s what I meant.”

The elevator dinged, and he stepped out onto his floor, but not before leaning in just a little too close.

“Guess I’ll be seeing you around, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low and sticky.

The second the doors shut, you frowned to yourself as you went up the floors until a ding took you out of your trance.

A slim, tall, stupidly beautiful redhead stood before you, clutching a neat stack of papers. She looked so put together—her sleek bun, her expensive-looking glasses, her perfectly ironed blouse. Ugh. She totally looked like someone who knew how to do her job.

You, on the other hand, were still reeling from the sheer luxury of this office. The marble floors, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the rich people smell. Was this really where you were going to work? Oh my god.

The redhead cleared her throat, clearly unimpressed with your gawking. “Ms. L/N? Mr. Rhysand is ready for you.”

“Oh! Right! Yeah, of course!” You smoothed down your skirt and stepped forward—business wear was so not your thing. It totally oppressed your usual style and it made you look too corporate-y.

The redhead sighed. “This way.”

You nodded, flashing her a big, dazzling smile as you followed her down the hallway.

“Mr. Rhysand is a very busy man who doesn’t tolerate mistakes. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

She gave you a slow, judgmental once-over before scoffing. “And maybe try dressing like a professional instead of a hooker.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “Oh… is this too much?” You glanced down at your outfit, genuinely puzzled. “I thought it was classy. It’s Massimo Dutti.”

The redhead’s expression didn’t change. “Just don’t waste his time,” she muttered before turning on her heel and walking away.

Shrugging, you smoothed down your skirt and took a deep breath before pushing open the office doors. Whatever. You looked cute, and that was what mattered.

You stepped into the office, heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Your breath hitched as you took in the sheer luxury of the space—floor-to-ceiling windows stretching across the entire wall, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The furniture was sleek, dark, and expensive, the kind you only saw in glossy magazines.

Rhysand stood by the windows, hands in his pockets, suit tailored to perfection. The late afternoon light poured in behind him, casting his tall, broad-shouldered frame in a golden glow. His dark hair was effortlessly tousled, and when he finally turned to look at you, piercing eyes locking onto yours, your stomach did a little flip.

Oh. Oh fuck.

You were pretty sure you forgot how to breathe for a second. He was stupidly handsome. Very young and very attractive. Sure, he looked older than you but still. You had expected a greying man to be the big boss.

“You’re late.”

His voice was smooth and rich—like honey and sin wrapped in silk.

Your lips parted slightly. Right. The interview. Not staring at your ridiculously gorgeous potential boss.

“You’re… young.”

Rhysand’s brow arched. “Excuse me?” His tone was warm, maybe even amused, but his expression remained unreadable.

Your eyes widened. “Oh, I mean—I just—I meant to say there was something wrong with my alarm. I swear I’m not usually late!”

Heat crawled up your neck. His voice alone had you all flustered, and the way he was looking at you? Yeah, this was bad for your focus.

Rhysand hummed, watching you for a moment longer before nodding toward the chair in front of his desk. “Right. Let’s begin.”

He walked over, effortlessly graceful, and leaned against the edge of his desk—half lounging, half scrutinizing as you sat down, smoothing your skirt.

”So,” Rhysand leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his thighs as he studied you. “Tell me why you think you’re the right fit for this position.”

You straightened, flashing him your brightest, most confident smile. ”I’m very organized! And great at, um… scheduling things and answering phones! I’ll do whatever you want and need.”

Rhysand’s lips curled slightly, the hint of a smirk playing at the edges. His violet eyes flickered with something unreadable as he watched you, head tilting just a fraction.

“Whatever I want and need?” His voice was smooth, dangerously amused.

You blinked, nodding obliviously. “Yep! I’m super dedicated. I’ll make your coffee, organize your files, take notes, remind you of meetings—oh! And I’m a great assistant. I’ll be there when ya need me.”

Rhysand let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “That’s good to know.” His gaze swept over you, lingering just long enough to make you squirm before he leaned back, arms crossing over his chest again.

“So, tell me, what do you know about this company?”

Shit. You knew absolutely nothing. His eyes narrowed, clearly seeing right through you. Damn it. You only had one option left. You flashed him a saccharine smile. You’d charm your way out, even if it was tacky.

“I’m sure you’re doing super important work, Mr. CEO. I’m just here to support you in all your very important tasks,” you said, stalling and distracting him with your charm.

Of course, Rhysand saw right through you. He could see right through your game, but he let you believe you were in control. You were quick, clever, and undeniably sweet—something about it intrigued him.

“Well,” he said, leaning forward slightly, clasping his hands together on the desk, and trying to hide the amused smirk that was growing on his face. “You certainly sound like someone who could handle the demands of my busy days.”

Not really. There were at least a hundred more qualified candidates he had interviewed, all more experienced and better suited for the job. But Rhysand wasn’t interested in any of them. He did what he wanted, and right now, what he wanted was you.

His smile softened slightly as he leaned forward again, arms crossed. “You’re hired,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “You start tomorrow.”

You blinked in surprise, but then your smile brightened as you stood to shake his hand. “Thank you! I won’t let you down!”

Rhysand’s grip was firm, his thumb brushing lightly over your wrist. A small, knowing smile curved his lips. “I don’t expect you to. I don’t expect mistakes, nor do I tolerate them.”

There was no malice in his words, just quiet confidence—like he already knew you’d be just fine.

You swallowed, nodding quickly as he slid a sleek manila envelope across the desk, along with a heavy, expensive-looking pen. You hesitated for only a moment before pulling out the papers, scanning through them quickly.

Your breath hitched.

Your eyes widened as you reread the number, making sure you hadn’t misread. That much money—for what? Just following him around, keeping his schedule in check, answering a few calls, and being… supportive?

Woah.

Trying to mask your shock, you steadied your hand and signed where needed before sliding the papers back toward him. You stood, reaching out to shake his hand again, this time with newfound excitement.

Rhysand clasped your hand in his, his touch lingering just a second longer than necessary. His smirk deepened slightly. God, he’s enjoy this.

“Welcome to the job.”

[ranoutofficssoiwritemyown]

You decide to sleep on the couch after an argument pt.3

pt.1 pt.2 character: Caleb note: not proofread. haven't played the game since he came out so he might be a little oc

Caleb’s mind is simple: you being away from him means he can’t protect you from any possible danger. He is overprotective to the point it disturbs you and sometimes you think if it was up to him he would tie you to his side so you never leave his sight. Because you’re the safest by his side right?

Considering his possessive nature towards you, you can imagine the intensity of arguments between you two. The problem is, he doesn’t see how he’s wrong. You’re a professional hunter? You’ve lived for years without him? You’re one of the best at your dangerous job? falls on deaf ears and right now you’re so so close to strangling him. Instead, you turn around and go to your bedroom to get a blanket and pillow, because sleeping beside this obstinate asshole is the last thing you want tonight. after a minute you can sense Caleb’s presence. He yawns as he leans against the doorframe

“Whatcha doin’ pipsqueak?” His question is playful

“Oh, I’m pipsqueak again”

Caleb laughs at your sarcastic answer which earns your glare, making him mumble “Still mad I see” under his breath. Silently, you wonder if he is bothered by the argument at all. You gather everything in your arms and walk to the door and as you pass him he grabs your shoulder from behind and drapes himself over you.

“A little bit dramatic don’t you think?”

“You’re heavy, you asshole”

You grumble as you try to shrug him off but he won’t budge. Quite the opposite actually, his arms are wrapped around your shoulders tightly with his face in your neck.

“Can’t handle it? I thought you were a strong girl.”

“Do you, really? Because you act like I’m made of glass”

“Well, not glass. More like-”

You try to smack him but he moves his head to avoid it and laughs, instead catching your wrist and placing a kiss on your pulse point. Even though the gesture makes you blush, you snatch your hand back and accidentally hit his metal arm, causing you to hiss at the pain. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow as if saying ‘See?’ which makes you more furious.

He starts to say something but you interrupt.

“Let me go, Caleb. I’m mad at you and don’t want to sleep in the same bed as you”

“No”

“No?”

“Gotta keep you away from your thoughts, pipsqueak. What if you decide you want to leave me or something because of this stupid argument, hm? What then?”

You fall silent for a moment because you need to get this straight. So, he thinks that after he ‘died’ and you mourned him, thinking about him almost every day, years later you find out that he’s alive and is doing everything to keep you close, you will leave him because of an argument? Now, you doubt his sanity. On the other hand, Caleb takes your silence as a bad sign and starts panicking.

“Pipsqueak? Come to bed, please. And we can do whatever you want tomorrow. I’m yours the whole day- Hey, I’ll make braised chicken wings. You still love them right? Or whatever you want, you name it…” When he gets no answer, he drops his head on your shoulder, giving up “Okay, if you really don’t wanna sleep beside me, I’ll take the couch, just, please sleep in the bedroom.”

Finally, you sigh and lean your head against his chest.

“You won’t drop this, will you?”

He smirks because he knows you. He knows you want to give into him but your pride won’t let you. So you try to blame him. Make it look like, you don’t have a choice, so you don’t feel bad about yourself. But he’ll take it. He’ll take all the blame and allegation if it means you’ll stay with him.

“Not a chance” his voice is muffled against your neck as he pecks it, before removing himself from you and leading you back to your bedroom.

“I don’t think you’re made of glass,” he tells you when you’re both lying down on the bed and you place your head on his chest, in return, he wraps his arms around you.

“Hm?” you’re confused before you remember your earlier statement

“I don’t think you’re weak. The opposite actually, I think you’re very strong I just… I worry about you, I can’t help it. So what if you’re one of the best hunters? you’re not immortal. And when I think that there’s even the slightest chance that I might lose you again… I won’t be able to take it. So all this overprotective act is also for the sake of my sanity.” He laughs humourlessly in the end.

You raise your head to look at him. He’s already watching you with adoration behind his purple eyes. You brush the strands of hair from his forehead and place a kiss on his lips.

“I won’t leave you” You kiss the corner of his mouth “You’re crazy if you think leaving you has even crossed my mind. Now that I have you back? You’re stuck with me as much as I am with you”

There’s a faint smile on his lips as his eyes run over your face.

“Goodnight, pipsqueak"

“Goodnight, Caleb”

You both fall silent as you lay back down on his chest. However, the silence is broken by you.

“You’re making braised chicken wings for me, tomorrow”

“Absolutely” he agrees with a silent chuckle.

[cutiefulism]

i’m a dog, i’m a mutt ▼⁠・⁠ᴥ⁠・⁠▼ caleb , lads

✦ ~ 1.1k wc, german shepard!caleb x reader, fluff, caleb n reader both being a little crazy abt each other, this wasnt meant to be so long (⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠) but possible smutty pt2?????

you don't even get one shoe on your foot before you hear the familiar, false lightness of caleb’s voice from behind you, irritation brewing just below the surface.

“where ya goin’?”

a sigh blows past your lips. you've been trying to find a cure for caleb’s, err. . problem for the past three days, and each time you attempt to leave the house, he's there to reel you back in with a pout and a grumble, big, dark ears flat against his skull.

sometimes, when you're really stubborn, he just drags you towards him with his evol, locking you in his big arms where you are meant to be and shoving his face against yours.

his hearing has gotten aggravatingly good.

you slowly turn to face him, giving yourself a few extra seconds to smooth the guilty wince from your face. “caleb, you know you can't leave the house like this. won't it be awkward to explain to your subordinates that you now have fluffy ears and a fluffier tail?”

the strict, cold colonel of the farspace fleet turned adorable, helpless puppy. what a headline.

his head cocks to the side. “they won't say anything.”

they know better than to say anything. just because he's soft with you doesn't mean that same kindness extends to everyone else. you've witnessed it first hand, and, honestly?

it's a little hot.

maybe you're just a freak, but it's nice to have that warm, gentle bit of caleb reserved just for you. no one else gets to taint it. not that you'd let that happen, anyway.

“that's. .” you bite your lip. “that's true, but that's not the entire point. this,” you gesture to him with a toss of your hand, and his brows furrow, “whatever it is that's happened to you, clearly has other side effects. you literally barked the other day.”

gotcha.

that makes caleb stiffen, his eyes locked on you as heat tints his cheeks pink, and you can't help a cheeky grin. his bark was pretty cute — a deep, firm, sharp noise that was directed to the poor guy who delivered y'all's pizza.

“that was an accident,” he says with a cough. “a-and only a one time thing.”

you kiss your teeth, still grinning, and he doesn't even let those words that he just knows will be teasing get out. “i’m serious! you see i haven't barked or growled since, right?”

he's had to actively resist the urge to, but you don't need to know that.

in a few short strides, he crosses the small distance between you, his arms looping around your waist and tugging you to his chest, big tail happily swishing behind him. it might be a bit harder for him to hide his emotions thanks to this transformation, but it's not impossible.

nothing is impossible.

well, besides him not loving you. that's very much so impossible.

“c'moooon,” he whines, and you damn your stupidly weak resolve right now. he shouldn't look so. . cute.

big, violet eyes peer down at you, plush mauve lips pulled down into a gentle pout, and his dark brows are practically knitted together.

to be quite frank, caleb looks pathetic.

but both he and you know that you like pathetic.

“i’ll be fine. you can trust me. always.”

you hum, and that mischievous grin melts into something more contemplative. “‘s not that i don't trust you, it's just. .”

“just what?” a pause, and then that wet puppy look is gone from his face, his signature smirk taking its place. “oh. ohhhhh. you don't want anyone else to see me like this. that's what this is about.”

. . .

“what?” your jaw goes slack, something like embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck, and caleb can just see the idea worming its way into your vulnerable little mind and taking root.

perfect.

you shake your head, and he only chuckles. “that's not true! i just don't want people bothering you in public! wouldn't you be annoyed if people kept coming up to you, asking to stroke your tail or scritch your ears?”

you're so obvious, it's both infuriating and adorable.

infuriating because — despite him informing you numerous times that he knows you better than anyone, even better than you know yourself — you still continue to hide things from him.

adorable because you look so pretty and lively all fired up, like a firecracker in the dead of a summer night.

“no, no. you're the only one who would be annoyed,” he says, and his hand travels up to gently pinch your cheek. “what have i told you about lyin’, pipsqueak?”

you groan and shove his hand away, but the burning in your face tells him all he needs to know. “i’m not lying!”

caleb’s hand simply moves to your thighs, and then he's hoisting you up with a grunt, thick arm situated underneath your ass. “you sure? your voice is gettin’ all squeaky. if i remember correctly, that's a definite sign you're lying.”

the smell of your perfume graces his nose, and he can't help but let out a tiny, content sigh. you smell so good — mostly your perfume, probably some gourmand scent, with just a hint of his own musk and soap. he'd prefer you smell a lot more like him, but that'll come in due time.

he's waited for years to have you — it won't hurt for him to wait some more.

your arms, like they have a mind of their own, hook around caleb’s neck, despite the almost petulant frown on your face. “i’m not a little kid anymore. and even if i was lying, which i’m not, that wouldn't be a tell!”

he snorts. “i think you're overestimating how much you've changed. you still act like the little girl who'd come crying to her gege because someone knocked over your sandcastle.”

your gaze narrows into sharp daggers. “and you still act like some flirtatious know-it-all!”

at that, caleb shifts you closer, rubbing his face into your neck with a soft smile. a flirtatious know-it-all, huh?

oddly enough, he's never flirted with anyone but you.

his lips press a soft, almost reverent kiss on your pulse. “for you to be so smart, you sure can be dense, can't ya?” he mutters, and his voice is swallowed up by your skin.

caleb would never betray you like that. no, you're all he wants, all he needs. no other girl will fill that crevice in his heart, something perfectly carved in the shape of you.

he pulls his face back, and his soft eyes meet your angry ones. cute. “i’ll be your flirtatious know-it-all for the evening, how ‘bout that?” and when you only continue to glare at him, he sweetens the deal.

“i’ll even let you touch my ears.” as if on cue, they twitch, looking fluffier and softer than ever.

. . hm. that antidote can wait a little longer, can't it?

sweats.

[meinii]

“I need a kiss”

summary: how I think the lads boys would act when they’re needy for a kiss! ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ³ ᵔ ꒱ྀིა

content: fluff

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

Sylus

Sylus isn’t the type to ask for affection outright—no, he demands it. when he’s feeling needy for a kiss, he doesn’t bother with words. instead, he corners you, trapping you against whatever surface is closest, his crimson eyes dark with intent. he tilts your chin up with two fingers, his lips already curling into that smug, knowing smirk

“don’t play coy,” he murmurs, voice smooth as silk “you know exactly what I want”

he’ll tease you at first, brushing his lips over yours, letting his breath ghost over your skin, but never fully closing the distance. he loves to watch you squirm, to see you grow desperate before he finally gives in, kissing you slow, deep, and intoxicating. one kiss is never enough for him—he’s greedy, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he could devour you whole. even after you part, he keeps his forehead pressed to yours, thumb tracing over your lips, as if contemplating whether to steal another

“hm… still not enough,” he mutters “but I’ll be merciful. for now.”

he makes sure you’re breathless, dazed, and completely under his spell before he finally lets you go. and if you ever try to deny him, well… you’ll only make him more determined to get what he wants

Zayne

Zayne won’t outright say he wants a kiss, but his actions speak for themselves. he lingers near you more than usual, brushing his fingers against yours, standing just a little too close when you’re doing something mundane, like reading or cooking. if you don’t take the hint, he’ll grow more obvious—sighing dramatically as he sits beside you, arms crossed, a faint pout on his lips

“you’re ignoring me,” he states plainly, adjusting his glasses “very cruel of you.”

and if you still don’t catch on? he gets petty. he’ll tug on your sleeve like a child, or even steal whatever you’re holding just to make you look at him. the moment you finally give in and lean in to kiss him, he meets you halfway, a quiet but satisfied hum escaping him as your lips press together

his kisses are soft and slow, drawn out as if he’s savoring the moment. his hands instinctively cup your cheeks, his thumb tracing absent patterns against your skin. and when you pull away, he keeps you there, pressing one last lingering kiss to the corner of your lips before murmuring

“there, much better. don’t make me wait next time”

Caleb

Caleb is shameless when he’s needy for a kiss. he has no problem following you around, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, and resting his chin on your shoulder. his voice takes on that playful, teasing tone, but there’s a clear edge of longing beneath it

“honey,” he drawls “I think you forgot something”

if you ask what, he’ll just pout, giving you the most exaggerated, pitiful look he can muster

and if you still don’t get the hint? he’ll lean in, whispering against your ear

“you forgot to kiss me.”

the moment you indulge him, he melts. his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss, making sure you feel every ounce of his affection. he’s warm, steady, and utterly devoted, tilting his head to deepen the connection, as if trying to make the moment last forever

and after? he grins, rubbing his nose against yours before stealing another quick kiss

“mm… think I need a few more just to be sure”

Rafayel

Rafayel is dramatic when he’s needy for a kiss. He sighs loudly, throwing himself onto the nearest couch or bed, acting as if he’s on the verge of death

“I am starving,” he groans, clutching his chest “but not for food. no, I am wasting away, neglected, unloved—”

you don’t even have to say anything. just rolling your eyes is enough to make him crack a grin, but he keeps up the act until you finally lean in and kiss him

the second your lips touch his, he immediately wraps his arms around you, trapping you in place. his kisses are intense, passionate, like he’s trying to pour every bit of his emotions into them. his fingers tangle in your hair, and he refuses to let you pull away too soon

“ahh, finally,” he breathes against your lips, smiling as he kisses you again, this time softer “but I think I need just a few more to fully recover.”

hood luck getting away now

Xavier

Xavier doesn’t always understand social cues, but when he’s needy for a kiss, it’s obvious. he follows you around like a lost puppy, his usual neutral expression softened by the smallest, almost imperceptible pout. He doesn’t say anything at first, just stands close—too close—until you finally turn to look at him

“… I require something,” he finally says, tilting his head

if you ask what, he just stares at you, waiting.

and when you still don’t get it, he reaches up and gently taps his lips with his finger

the moment you lean in and kiss him, his entire expression changes. his hands immediately cup your face, his touch delicate but firm, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. his kisses are slow, reverent—he kisses you like you’re something sacred

even after you part, he stays close, his forehead resting against yours.

“… better,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your cheek. “but I think I need more data. let’s try again”

and with that, he steals another kiss