#((I KEEP GETTING DISTRACTED JFC))

[t-u-i-t-c]

KATSUMI HYODO as Haruto Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (2024) | 01x02

+ bonus

[jellyshark-png]

pretty boy syzoth is here !!!! UGH he’s so dreamy you guys :’))) 💚

[island-in-the-shadows]

Rolin: Seasons and seasons of DM

Me: Slowburn to the point that it'll be six seasons and a movie before those two kiss, got it.

[thecapricunt1616]

Papaya (c.b one-shot)

Part one here

Blurb (More BTC!) : He knew you were that out of your mind, when he pushed his way through the house, shouting “Squish? SQUISH!” Over the music as well as he could and he found you being basically fucking molested by some meathead that had a good 6 inches and 75 pounds on him. The sight made him so enraged, it made him see red so quickly, it made him black out in anger. He came to again a few moments later after he uppercut the guy so hard he fell back on his ass, and then punched him in the face so hard that his nose started bleeding.  “Bear?” You said confused 

“See the fucking cup, asshole?” He seethed, everyone was watching now as he dumped the remainder of your icy drink on him and crushed it before throwing it at his shocked face “ the blue cup means she’s taken”

♡ One-shot inspo: Papaya is associated with femininity & strengthening love connections. Hang twigs of papaya wood over a door to keep out evil. Eat papaya with a loved one to intensify your love. Mix papaya leaves with mandrake and burn or use in the bath to reverse hexes and jinxes. ♡ Summary: You & Carmys first time, F/U to 'Very First Time'♡ W/C: 4.7k ♡ A/N: EEEE It's here! The first was recieved so well, & my sweet @carmenberzattosgf requested a part 2 as well as this sweet anon, so I had to indulge! I hope it is everything you wanted <3 Who's ready for some sexy sexy Carmy tomorrow!? I know I am!!! I can't believe this is my last piece before the drought is over...It has gone so freaking fast!!! I can't wait to meet all the new fans that this season brings <3 :) (P.S. If you were tagged, it's BC you asked for a part 2 or are my moot!! <3) P.S - Tumblr was really trying to get me to commit murder while formatting this JFC ♡ Warnings for BTC: SMUT SMUT SMUT, College relationship, childhood best friend trope, virgin!carmy, Fem!/AFAB!Reader, R has long hair, No use of Y/N (r goes by childhood nickname 'squish' ), Drunk men being pervy, Physical violence, Angry Carmy

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You stumbled into the nearest vacant bathroom (with your drink in hand of course) as Miley Cyrus’ We Can’t Stop bumps through the speakers of the frat house so loudly that the floors shook. 

The amount of stinky sweaty bodies and drunk people making out in various corners of the hallway would usually get to you if you weren’t so out of your mind. You weren’t exactly sure which drink you were on yet, but you did know that when your best friend Paisley had challenged you to a keg standoff and you weren’t a quitter, so you couldn’t count just how many beers you had chugged. 

You tried to count on your fingers as you hovered above the nasty toilet seat to pee just exactly how many red solo cups of mostly liquor with a bit of mixer you had consumed. You were distracted by that nasty toilet seat, wondering how the boys that live here don’t gag whenever they come to pee. You were happy that Carmy wasn’t in a frat. You were really happy that Carmy wasn’t in a frat, the guys here were assholes. Most of them, anyway. 

You grabbed your blue cup, that insinuated you were taken or dating someone steady, out with you back into the hot sticky living room, to hear someone (probably paisley, it had to have been paisley or one of your other sorority sisters) had requested they play Girls by The 1975, you tried finding her but got distracted by hands on your waist and “I love your shirt” in your ear. It was a voice you didn’t recognize, you could tell the man towered over you by the way he had to hunch over to talk to you. 

Carmy was bigger then you, but not that much bigger, this guy would probably have a head on Carmy. He had grown just like Mike said he would, and it looked amazing on him. Funnily enough though, even though you had been dating since the week you graduated high school - and you were now juniors in college, he still hadn’t slept with you yet. You often after you left his house to head back to your sorority house since they had a curfew, would cry to your sorority about how he still only wants to do oral. 

He didn’t often want blowjobs unless it was a special occasion, he would tell you your hand is fine and you don’t have to do ‘all that’ even though you wanted to- you figured since he was saying that he didn’t want you to. You weren’t aware - but Carmy was kicking himself in the ass every single day that he hasn’t fucked you the way you deserve yet. He was honestly getting worried he was going to lose you to some guy who would. You had asked him, he had told you that he wasn’t ready to go that far with you yet, that he wanted to wait and make it special. 

But in all reality he was terrified out of his mind. He knew he could make you cum with his mouth, but his dick?! He had to dig his nails into his palms until they near drew blood whenever you put your fucking mouth on him, so if you let him fuck your cunt?! He was worried he was going to cum in 3 strokes and you would laugh and break up with him and tell him you were better off best friends and there goes his only friend and the love of his life and the person he wants to marry. But he found himself asking as he fantasized about marrying you how he was supposed to do that if he can’t even find the balls to fuck you right. 

His anxiety was what led him to calling you 3 times tonight, because you were late - and you were never late - because the two of you wanted to spend as much time as possible together since his schedule was so packed between working at the beef and going to classes part time. He was nowhere near graduating, that was because he was stacking his money away in a savings account that gained interest like Uncle Jimmy taught him, so that his graduation present to you could be the Chicago brownstone you both had talked about having together since high school. 

He found it so incredibly sexy and endearing that you put school first in your life, he wanted to reward you for it. He felt you deserved the world and more, since you were his world. Which is why, after the third nervous stuttering voicemail which is how you could tell he was really nervous, had gone unanswered? He opened the find my friends app and grabbed his brothers keys. 

��Mike I’m going…out!” He called and shut the front door before he could get questions about why the hell he of all people would be leaving the house past 10:00 on a Friday night. He anxiously mapped the location on his phone and hopped in the car. When he got there, though- he couldn’t even park near the house. He had to park a block over and walk because it was so packed with cars. He made sure to lock the car in case any drunkards were to try and sleep in it or think it was there’s, and put on the walking directions. 

Carmen had to deal with drunk behavior well - every night, so being with a bunch of drunk people wasn’t his favorite place to be - but for you he persevered, because what the hell were you doing here. 

You, currently, were inside, grinding on the same guy that had come up to you to Mirrors by Justin Timberlake. You had finished another drink, and forgotten completely it wasn’t your boyfriend behind you - and didn’t even have the mind to ask yourself what he would be doing there. Said boyfriend was currently pushing his way through the kitchen, and rolling his eyes and the ‘single, taken, DTF’ different colored cups on the counter as he tried to find you. 

He knew you were that out of your mind, when he pushed his way through the house, shouting “Squish? SQUISH!” Over the music as well as he could and he found you being basically fucking molested by some meathead that had a good 6 inches and 75 pounds on him. The sight made him so enraged, it made him see red so quickly, it made him black out in anger. He came to again a few moments later after he uppercut the guy so hard he fell back on his ass, and then punched him in the face so hard that his nose started bleeding. 

“Bear?” You said confused 

“See the fucking cup, asshole?” He seethed, everyone was watching now as he dumped the remainder of your icy drink on him and crushed it before throwing it at his shocked face “the blue cup means she’s taken” 

He grabbed your arm gently “squish y’wasted. We're going home” he said firmly but not mean, and you stumbled next to him as people move out of the way since the entire room was privy to what just happened. You weren’t sure what happened all you knew was the man was behind you and then he wasn’t and then carmy was punching him and now you were in the car and Carmy was lecturing you about how worried he was. 

“He could have hurt you, angel. Please- I know it’s college and you can do what you want but I love you and those guys are all assholes, they’ll take advantage of nice girls the second they get a chance. And you’re so sweet squish, you’re too sweet. They don’t deserve to have you over” he squeezed your hand and brought it to his lips for what he knew was probably the hundredth time in the 35 minute car ride back to his house. 

You didn’t say much of anything that could make sense, but he agreed with you anyway. “And theee um. The the- what was I saying?” You look over at him at a red light with a drunk smile, your eyes glazed over from all the alcohol and cheeks hot with the rush of it in your system. 

“I dunno baby but you look cute” he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and kissed your forehead gently 

“Your knuckles are bleeding, did you hurt them?” You asked, the events from less than an hour prior already having been wiped from your mind. He chuckled a bit, shaking his head 

“M’fine squish, you need some water” he helped you out of the car, supporting most of your weight as you stumbled up the stairs of the Berzatto house, and he unlocked the door. 

“Ooooo you know what I want?” You asked and he smiled as he locked the door behind him and lead you to the kitchen 

“What’s that honey?” He helps you sit down at the table and grabs a glass, filling it with ice water 

“I want a bear special beef sandwich. Pretty please?” He came over and handed you the glass 

“Drink that and we’ll talk about it” he said and you obediently chugged down the glass as he went back to the fridge and got out the beef they didn’t use today at the restaurant and a pan to heat it in 

“This is good” you said, finishing it off and crunching on a piece of ice to which he cringed 

“Ugh y’teeth babe don’t do that!” He scolded as he always did when you munched on ice, taking it from you and filling it again, adding a straw before giving it back so you were less tempted to repeat your actions

He was cutting up a bell pepper for your sandwich when you asked “why won’t you have sex with me?” Which almost made him slice his finger but thankfully he missed it by a centimeter. 

“Who said I won’t” he looked back at you, his cheeks a pretty shade of pink as he flushed with embarrassment. 

“I dunno. You say you’re waiting but I want to and paisley says maybe you’re shy and if m’drunk maybe you’ll wanna do it more but the problem-“ you’re interrupted with a drunk hiccup “with that is, paisley said you have to be drunk too, and you aren’t.” You slurred, struggling to find your straw again to chug down the other half of your second glass of water. 

He stared at you, unsure of what to say and Mikey comes pounding down the stairs per usual and into the kitchen. A bull in a fucking China shop, just like Richie. “Yooo it’s squishy! Sup girl” he came over, giving you a brotherly push to the back of the head and doing the same to Carmy as he walks by to the fridge 

“Hey! You could have killed me I’m drinking!” You slurred, “but I’m asking Carmy why he won’t h-“

“Heyyyy!!! Hey hey squish no we’re not sharing those things” Carmy cuts you off quickly and looks over, shaking his head 

“She’s fuckin gone” Mike said to himself as he grabbed a can of soda 

“Yeah why do you think I’m fuckin having her eat and drink water?” Carmy quips, putting the beef into the bun he’d toasted and adding extra cheese for you on top how he liked it. 

“Mm. Make sure you have a few vomit bags ready I think the last time she was this wasted was her birthday” he headed back up to his room and Carmy sighed to himself, knowing he was right. 

“Who’s vomiting?” You asked, sipping the last few dribbles of water and he set your sandwich in front of you, taking the cup to fill again and you gasp, having forgotten you even wanted the sandwich “I was just gonna ask you to make me one too!” You said excitedly and took a big bite. 

He came back to the table, setting the filled glass down and sitting in the chair next to you, gently rubbing your back “chew it baby Jesus it’s not goin anywhere” he teased and pushed your hair back over your shoulders. 

“I know- it’s just so good” you mumble with your mouth full and he chuckled, shaking his head and wiping some grease that had dribbled down your chin off with the pad of his thumb, wiping it on a napkin. He didn’t know what came over him, maybe it was the fact that you wouldn’t remember - maybe selfishly it was because he knew you’d be brutally honest, but he asked 

“If we did have sex, and I didn’t last very long- would you be upset that you had to finish with my mouth or fingers instead?” His voice was laced with nervous curiosity, but he had to know this to be able to properly navigate having sex since you had been bringing it up more and more often as of late. 

“What?! Upset? I think I’ll cry with joy that I actually can have your dick in me it doesn’t matter how long” you said casually. He wasn’t sure what it was about it, maybe it was the tone of your voice - like it’s an every day thought for you, like you were aching to have him inside of you. Yeah, that was it. The coolness mixed with desperation, it made his cock stiffen a little more than he figured it should have. 

“Mm.” Was all he said, covering himself with his hand, it wasn’t like you would notice, anyway, but he was still ever so shy about you making him aroused - like he was doing something wrong. Even though you were his girlfriend of 3 years and you said I love you multiple times a day to each other. 

While he was helping you shower, and then helping you dress for bed, that was when it hit him. This weekend, his mom would be out of town for some work thing he didn’t care to know the details of, and Mike goes to the casino every Friday and stays out practically until 5 am. He would have the house to himself, and it would be the perfect time to finally have sex. 

He was mapping out in his mind the most romantic way to do it, flowers, candles, music? He told himself he had to do it right and make it a night to remember for the both of you. He had to cook for you - he figured he would make your favorite penne à la vodka, and he wouldn’t tell you about doing it just in case he bitches out. But the amount of thought he was putting into this, if he bitched out he was gonna be extraordinarily angry with himself. 

Your voice pulled him out of his head as if always did “bear” you said sleepily 

“Sup bug” he kissed your head tenderly and rubbed your arm as you nuzzled into his side. 

“Can you turn the tv down m’tired” you mumble into his shirt and he took the remote, turning it off. 

“Love you baby, g’night” he resumed rubbing over your hip as he got lost in his thoughts once again. 

 When the day came, he wasn’t sure how he didn’t bitch out. He thought about it 5 times that day and convinced himself not to, but now, now that you were sat at the table with him, a candle between you, giggling about how ‘romantic’ he had been acting tonight - he felt like a total fucking idiot. 

“I’m sorry, fuck- do you not like it? I read one of sugars magazines she left behind before she moved - they said girls like candles and music” he pushed it to the side and you shook your head, moving it back 

“I love it, bear. I’m just wondering why you’re treating me so special tonight is all, I’d have been a lot more dressed up and pretty if you’d have-“ he cuts you off

“You’re fuckin- y’perfect, squish. I love you, that’s why I’m doin it. I just wanna show you how much” he held your hand and squeezed it gently “you mean everything t’me. Really” he said and kissed your knuckles gently. 

When you made it to his bedroom, you realized he’d hung romantic little white string lights along his headboard to provide more ambient lighting, and that’s when it clicked what was happening. Your heart raced in your chest like a hummingbird trapped in a cage as his hands roam your body. 

You were sprawled out beneath him, both of you down to your underwear, the feeling of his lips nipping, and licking, and biting yours was enough to make you wet, but when his broad hands started palming your tits, his thumbs and forefingers massaging your nipples, you had to squeeze your thighs together to provide your throbbing clit some pressure. You were mewling and whining beneath him, he was panting and grunting into your mouth, your noses bumping with each unexpected kiss. 

“Carmy” you whine into his mouth, reaching to pull one of your hands off of your breast and he pulled away just enough to speak, lapis eyes boring into yours that were no doubt lust blown. 

“Y’good?” He asked gently, kissing the corner of your mouth chastely and eased his grip on your breasts. You moved the hand you were holding down, down, down, tucking his fingers into the waistband of your panties 

“I want you to touch me here…please” you said softly and hook your arm around the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his sandy blond curls as you pull him back for a kiss his breath hitched slightly at the action, his cock twitching at your words which you felt against your thigh, causing you to smile a bit. He cupped your heat with his hand for a moment, causing you to grind onto it needily and he sucked on your bottom lip as he spread your lips to slip his middle finger over your sticky soaked hole, teasing it gently before trailing it up to find the throbbing erect bud. 

You gasped lightly at the contact, back arching a bit and moaning shamelessly, your voice coming out high pitched and whiny “oh yes” you said as he rubbed the pad of his finger back and forth and in circles, alternating between the two in such a way that was making your stomach tighten and thighs shiver. 

“Yeah?” He kissed your jaw “feels good mm? Sound so pretty, princess” he said hotly in your ear, gently nipping at your neck in the way that drove you wild. 

“So good you make me feel so good” you mewl as he moved his finger down again, thrusting it in and out as he does that beckoning motion with the finger and he gently rubbed your clit with his other hand. You sob in pleasure, fisting the sheets with one hand and tugging Carmys hair with the other. 

“Good girl tha’s a good girl” his husky voice and hot breath made you shiver even though with how close your orgasm was- you felt oh so hot. You felt him lick your sternum where he had watched a bead of sweat trailing down and that caused your eyes to open once more, to see his staring back like a round eyed cat. 

“M’gonna cum” you choke out, pulling the sheets harder to avoid hurting him by pulling his hair too hard. This brought a grin to his face, finding your nipple with his lips and sucking on the sensitive bud, just as he adds another finger, speeding up his beckoning motion. Your eyes nearly roll back when you felt his lips on your ear, encouraging you

“Yeah? Yeah pretty girl? Are you gonna cum f’me? Feels sooo good huh. Go ahead princess let me feel you cum on my hand I love it when y’pussy sucks in my fingers it’s so fuckin hot. Y’re so fuckin hot” your jaw fell slack in a silent scream, brows knitted together as he praised you while your orgasm came over you full force. You swore you saw stars behind your lids. 

“Please please please pleaaase bear” you found yourself begging, pulling him up for a kiss and he chuckled into your lips, pulling away enough to ask, 

“Please what, what baby what d’you want?” He cooed sweetly before ravishing your face with kisses which made your thumping, racing heart turn to goo 

“Please fuck me. Please- oh god please I fucking need you inside your fingers aren’t enough I need to feel you.” You begged, your voice was raspy, needy, he never heard anything hotter in his life. 

“Yeah?” He asked sweetly, resting his forehead on yours, nuzzling your nose in a eskimo kiss gently. “Open your eyes” he said softly and dried his hand on the sheets, pushing your sticky, sweat slick hair from your face and cupping your cheeks. Your eyes flickered open to meet his honest blue ones, blown with lust, glazed over with love. “Tell me again, I want to see you when you say it baby, so I know you want this.” He rubbed your jaw tenderly with his thumbs. 

“I want you to show me how much you love me, Bear, please” you said softly and he smiled in the way that showed off his little dimples, to which you kissed it gently before he told you 

“I don’t think there’s a way to show you just how much I love you, because it can’t even be described in words - but I’ll try anything f’you, squish” he kissed your forehead lovingly, lingering for a moment. Your eyes fluttered shut as you soaked in the moment, gently rubbing his back. 

“I love you too, more than words” you said honestly when he pulled away, grabbing a condom from his nightstand drawer and ripping it open with his teeth, an action that had you clenching around nothing, but hopefully that would be resolved in just a moment. 

“Now, if you want to stop just say the word, if you can’t find your words just like…bite me I guess” he teased and you giggled, shaking your head 

“Will do” you watch as he slipped off his boxers, rolling the rubber all the way to the base, he tugged off your panties that had been soaked through, tossing them in his laundry basket since you’d need new ones after which lived in his top drawer, and got between your legs. You watch as he strokes himself a few times with his hand and you felt your throat go a bit dry. What if you were the one to ruin it all because it wouldn’t fit or something? 

“You ok?” He asked gently as he caught you staring and you met his eyes again, putting on a smile and nodding, spreading your legs wider in hopes that might make more room. 

“Amazing. Excited” you said, it wasn’t exactly a lie, but you left off your biggest and most present emotion nervous. 

“Okay…that look says I’m worried so what’s up?” He held your hand, gently rubbing the back of it with his thumb and looking into your eyes. It was impossible to lie when he looked at you like that, even more impossible when you were both butt naked and his dick was in his hand. 

“What if it doesn’t fit?” You asked nervously. He chuckled as if he didn’t believe you, shaking his head

“I’m not that hung, babe. It’ll be fine. Do you care if I touch you?” He asked and you shook your head, swallowing thickly. He knelt on the bed with his left knee, leaning over you and nestling the tip of his cock between your folds and rubbing your wetness up and over your clit, causing a small gasp to leave your lips. He watched you carefully, for any signs of discomfort or that you were having second thoughts. 

Your lips were parted and little puffs of air fan his chin, eyes hooded in pleasure and little squeaks coming out of your throat each time his tip bumped your clit firmly and the ridge of it rubbed back down to swipe over your hole and back up to repeat the assault. You could cum just like this if he did it long enough. “Feels good?” He checked, intertwining your fingers and squeezing your hand lovingly. 

“Uh-huh” was all you could manage to get out and he smiled a bit, kissing your chin gently 

“Want me to try being inside Angel?” 

In response, a needier, whinier “uh-huh” 

He looks down for a moment, grabbing his cock and lining the tip up with your entrance. “Remember what to do?” He triple checked, this time- just a quick nod. He ever so gently eased his way in, his jaw tightening at the way it made his balls feel 10 pounds heavy, his cock twitching at the foreign sensation. He grunted to cover a whine instead, and you squeezed his hand tight, looking down and watching as he slowly pushed his shaft in about a fourth of the way and stopped, looking up at you. Once more. 

“How do you feel baby?” He gently rubbed your clit with his other hand, causing you to clench around him and in turn a unconscious moan tears from his throat “jeeesus fuck” he grunts, hips sinking in further in instinct and you squeak, shifting uncomfortably which made him look down and quickly pull back out to just the tip “sorry- fuck I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened are you ok?” He kissed your wrist. 

“Burning. Kinda. Not a bad, it feels…kinda good? It like…it feels like a good stretch when it almost hurts. And like…full. So full, but like a good full. A fulfilled kinda full, is that weird?” You rambled on all the thoughts swimming in your brain other than ‘cock feels good’  which was the main one. 

“Yeah? Feels good f’me too baby” he leaned in, kissing your lips and sinking in further, half way now. He kept kissing you, gently sucking on your tongue as you got used to the uncomfort of the stretch. “Can I try moving Angel?” He asked , almost into your mouth, you just respond with a huffy hum of agreement before pulling your lips back up to his. He very slowly at first started to thrust and had to let go of your hand to fist the pillow so he didn’t bust right then. 

“Holy fuck” he pants, nuzzling his face in your neck and continuing to rub your clit as he thrusted in and out. The feeling left you breathless, wordless, thoughtless. You were on cloud nine, you could die like this. You felt that sensation of an orgasm coming in your belly again, this was the quickest he’d ever brought you to another. 

“Bear-bear- I’m-“ you whine out, back arching and jaw dropping as his tip brushes your g spot and you nearly cry, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes at the intense pleasure it brought. “Cumming, cumming im cumming” you babbled, as your orgasm took over, clenching and unclenching around his cock in such a way that he literally couldn’t stop himself from spilling into the condom if he tried. 

The whiny grunt he made when he came was the hottest noise you had heard to date and was nothing short of beautiful. He bit down on your neck, sucking a pretty purple bruise into the skin before burying himself to the hilt as he shoots rope after rope of seed into the condom. Your thighs tightened around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders so hard they’d leave moon shaped bruises come morning that he’d proudly walk around the house with at breakfast so Mike could finally believe that he’s not just lying about doing sexual shit with you. 

You wrap your legs around his hips, keeping him there and relishing in the feeling. You felt like he was made for you, you fit together like 2 puzzle pieces. You knew he was your forever, but this solidified it even more. After he fucked you through both of your highs, he pulled out and laid next to you in a heap, panting for a few moments before he finally spoke

“Biggest mistake of my life was waiting so long to do that”

@carmenberzattosgf @daysofyellowroses @aestheticaltcow @l4long-winded @thehouseofevangelista @w31rdash @caramelberzatto @wtfsteveharrington

[mimikoolover]

I haven't seen any hate or negative comments directly, I've only seen people discuss the negativity and this is not meant to come across defensive but I wanted to write out some of my thoughts cause why not lol

some things that stood out to me about the travel show include confirmation again about the thing I keep saying is that jikook make the effort to understand and care for each other (and as a side note I find it so hilarious that people are so determined to misunderstand them) for example when jimin said he knew it had to be him to make the travel show happen. what this means (I think) is that he pushed the idea forward so that it actually became a reality (with the implication that it would not have been jungkook to do that). it's so funny that people wanna say this means that jungkook doesn't care about jimin when that is not true at all and such a wild thing to imply (if it was true, jimin would know by now and he would not try. also jungkook would keep rejecting jimin's ideas). if you look at it from jungkook's perspective it undoubtedly feels really nice to have someone care this much about you. they know each other well and they care for each other a ton which is just so obvious. jimin had no problem pushing to make it happen and he actually /did/ which says a lot. they know what they need to do for each other and they actually do it which is a massive deal to be quite honest.

I do not agree at all that jungkook was 'off' and the whole thing about people always claiming that he's off around jimin makes me lowkey uncomfortable at this point tbh. for whatever reason people really struggle accepting that jungkook is human and that he doesn't mask his emotions 24/7 and that his emotions fluctuate throughout the day like everyone else's. when he's around jimin people expect him to have one flat emotion (happy) for some reason and also expect that nothing else outside of jimin would affect his emotions somehow. like that's wild to me. and funny in a way cause once again this show has shown that jimin reads jungkook's emotions well and when jungkook gets mad or upset about things like falling off that bleeding kayak he responds in a way that will help jk get over it. you have to be pretty close to someone to be able to do that, js. if he's upset about something and he happens to be around jimin, it's not jimin he's upset with but that is literally what people are saying and that's so beyond ridiculous. again to be around someone you don't have to put up a front for and can say whatever you want and tease each other knowing you won't offend each other fr shows closeness jfc.

personally in the car in episode 1 at the start I see jungkook holding himself back a little but he probably would've preferred to talk more with jimin when they're not being filmed, then they got distracted when they did stuff so he seemed more relaxed after a while. but I think them talking about what happened when they weren't seeing each other etc., I think jungkook would've preferred to discuss that off camera, like talking about missing each other and stuff like that, that he probably wanted to say off cam. even if I completely disregard that opinion, they did not seem awkward to me at all at any point. I think I've been off twitter for so long and have not seen the fandom chatter for so long that it doesn't affect me any longer which feels great but sometimes I really wonder how much people think for themselves vs think based on what they read about other people's perception. and that's funny to say given I just wrote down my own perceptions but really I think people online state and word things as if they were facts and I'm sure that affects a lot of people subconsciously. so all of this is just my opinion but if you actually try to put yourself in jikook's shoes without any preconceived ideas, knowing them to be the friends that they are, it's pretty easy to see how much they care about each other.

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia: (Part Fifteen)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content: Heavy Voyeurism/Mild cuckoldry, Fingering, Bondage, Praise kink, Oral (reader recieving and giving), PinV sex, Creampie, Breeding kink, Size difference, Monsterfucking, Masturbation.

Word count: 6200 Notes: this really might be the most smuttiest smut i've ever done, this shit made me blush writing it, jfc pls enjoy

You’d hoped to get home to Mig as soon as you left Miguel’s office, but at the last minute you were been called to help wrangle an escaped Lizard with a few other lower-level spiders.

You hated not being able to message Mig about your whereabouts. He knew you might be gone for most of the day but you knew he’d worry regardless, and with nothing to distract his mind it must be so much worse.

You took a few dangerous risks while trying to capture the escapee just to get it done faster, risks that your colleagues absolutely noticed. When they asked what you were thinking and you just awkwardly shrugged them off, you saw in their eyes the same mix of morbid curiosity you saw in everyone now.

Everyone knew. You couldn’t avoid it now. Whether Miguel had snapped after your fight and spread it even wider you didn’t know, but you knew you’d just have to learn to live with the universe’s judgement.

You were dating a spider. Big deal. Everyone here was a spider in some way or another, and nobody looked at MJ weirdly.

By the time you returned to Mig’s universe it was getting dark, with the sky a messy palette of dark red and purple above the darkened silhouette of the pines. You called up to Mig after dropping the tech you’d brought at the base of the nest.

‘MIG! Babe, you okay?’

‘Ah, mi arañita!’

You paused, your hand hovering over the rope ladder. Did he sound okay? You tilted your head as you replayed his voice. That was weird, he sounded almost worried? Was he still stressed out?

You grappled onto the rope and tore your way up to the entrance.

‘Hey! I’m okay Miggy, don’t worry!’

‘Arañita! Don’t—’

You grabbed the door right as he spoke, but you didn’t hear the last part of his sentence as you grunted to get over the edge.

‘Hey baby! Are you—’

You jumped out of your skin as you pushed the door aside, only barely catching yourself from falling back out and onto the earth below.

‘AH—WHAT—YOU?!’

Miguel was sitting in the nest, his body perched on one of the stools to the right side of the central fire. He didn’t even look up as you entered, but Mig rushed to steady you from falling.

‘Arañita, are you okay?’ he whispered. You didn’t hear; you were utterly fixated on Miguel.

‘What are you doing here?!’ you snapped.

Miguel narrowed his eyes, still refusing you eye contact.

‘Change of plans. Until you fill out the full paperwork to sanction this relationship, I’ve filed for an emergency supervision order. I need to be sure that you’re not breaking any rules.’

You were incredulous. Wait, is this what he’d meant? Was he really that petty? This man who was supposed to be in charge of the multiverse?

‘What- what the fuck are you— Why not put a camera up? Why not fucking warn us first?’ you snapped, your hands flying wildly as you pointed between him and the nest.

‘You could turn off a camera’ Miguel noted. ‘Besides, it’s a waste of resources.’

‘Oh, and the head of the society wasting his night watching us personally wasn’t a waste of resources?’ you argued back.

Miguel was keeping a straight face, but his smug aura radiated out of him like pus. He simply curled his lip and scoffed. ‘My job is to avoid anomalies. I’m doing that now, by ensuring that you’re both… following orders, and remaining on birth control, and that you’re not getting hurt. It seemed- the right approach, to me, as boss.’

‘You don’t need to watch us to prove that!’ you snapped back. ‘Put a- tracker in my fucking patch or something, or let me do the check ups like we agreed!’

Miguel had the audacity to yawn as you stared at him with an open mouth and clenched fists. ‘I could. But that would be a breach of your physical rights, you’d have to sign off on it, and you haven’t gone through the company mandated relationship therapy or de-escalation training. We need to agree the terms of surveillance. Until then it seemed safest to keep you on observation. That’s all.’

You opened your mouth to argue back but Miguel was faster. He raised his hand, halting you in your tracks, as those cold red eyes lingered on your face. ‘Or, would you rather hand over your watch?’ he said, his voice dipping as he spoke.

Your eyes narrowed until it hurt, your forehead furrowing with the injustice of it all.

‘You—You petty bitch.’

Both Mig and Miguel seemed startled by your language. You pointed your finger squarely at Miguel’s face, your lips drawn back over your bared teeth.

‘You petty bitch. You really think I’ll let you do this? Signing off orders so you can invade my space, because I wouldn’t sleep with you?!’

Miguel’s lips twitched. Was he holding back the urge to smile?

Mig, in contrast, looked horrified. His eyes darted between the two of you.

‘He- arañita, I-I don’t understand’ he stammered. You looked at him with nothing but sympathy in your eyes.

‘Your variant, there, revealed that apparently while I was in heat, he was hoping to— what did you say Miguel? Help me out? Ease that, hormonal pain? Something as slimy as that, anyway. He even asked why I picked you over him, and now he’s here, what a fucking surprise, huh?’

‘Mm. That’s quite the accusation. Shame you don’t have any evidence’ Miguel noted as he admired his claws.

You felt Mig beside you bristling violently.

‘You… Is this true?’ Mig murmured. He was addressing Miguel, not you, which was a comfort. He clearly believed you, as he was clutching you so tightly against his side that it was crushing your ribs.

‘Yes’ Miguel said. ‘It’s true. Of course I was interested. They reeked of heat, it was distracting. Repulsive almost. The most- desperate stench. But, that was supposed to stay between us. And it will. Because like I said, it’s your word against mine.’

‘You—’

Mig took a step forward but froze again when Miguel raised his claw, pointing it directly at your watch.

‘Again. I will remove your watch if you don’t follow the societies rules. Understand?’

You and Mig both glanced at each other. The hopelessness in your eyes was clear; you could lose your watch, and then you’d lose Mig. With a frustrated huff you turned and stormed across the nest. ‘Fucking—asshole’ you hissed beneath your breath.

Mig followed and caught you in his arms as you practically fell into his lower abdomen. You allowed his fur to muffle your continued insults.

‘It’s okay arañita. We’ll be okay.’

His soothing words were like honey, warm and sweet after a long and exhausting day. You settled into his grip.

‘So- fucking unfair’ you grumbled into his fluff. Mig didn’t disagree.

‘You need to learn some accountability’ Miguel snapped across the room. ‘You chose to do this. You chose to put yourself in a situation where you could cause an anomaly, and even though I can’t bring it forward in formal writing, you decided as a member of my society to get close to someone who is a threat. Now its my job to make sure you’re safe.’

You felt Mig breathing on your neck as he turned to watch his counterpart. His lips parted as he tasted the air with his tongue, feeling the brewing tension in the back of his throat.

In his heart, something was changing.

He’d spent so much of his life terrified of the man before him. Miguel had posed himself as the better O’Hara, the superior O’Hara, the one who knew what was best for him. But, was that true?

Mig had been told he wasn’t safe, worthy of love or affection. He was disgusting compared to Miguel, a monster in the flesh, and yet he’d soothed his self-loathing by promising that they were at least both monsters inside. Both bound to abstinence for the greater good.

And this hypocritical scum, now sitting in his nest, had tried to steal his arañita from out under his paws? How could he?

But you weren’t with Miguel, were you? Mig looked down at you as his rage boiled over. His poor arañita, nestled into his fur. No, you were with him. You’d slept with him, and you were still alive.

You’d looked him in the eye, knowing what he’d done, and you’d said he was still beautiful to you. You said you’d stay. Not with Miguel, but with him, the monster.

In his heart, something was definitely changing.

‘Fine. Miguel, you may stay’ Mig bluntly replied. ‘I’ll let you observe.’

Miguel, ignorantly assuming Mig’s concession was a sign of him backing down, took a step forward. He had such a smug look on his face.

‘Good. If you want to continue this charade, then you have to—’

Miguel’s words turned to muted gibberish as you squeaked. Mig had grabbed you between his forelegs and arms, and while Miguel had been preparing his self-righteous speech, he’d lifted you up into the air. This wouldn’t have been that unusual spare for one thing: Mig had shifted his fluffy little foreleg between your thighs, and now it was lightly probing at your clothed pussy.

Miguel just stared, too blankly shocked to respond.

‘Mi arañita, I’m so glad you’re home. I missed you so much.’

Mig purred softly as his hands began to grope you in a similar manner. He cupped your chest and your waist with his clawed fingers, lightly ripping the fabric to reveal the tender skin beneath. He prodded your clit a second time and noted the way you squirmed.

‘M-Mig, fuck—that’s, sensitive—’

‘Mmhm. Soft little pretty spider’ Mig breathed. ‘So, so pretty… Let me help you relax.’

‘What- the, f- what the fuck are you doing?’ Miguel spat in disgust.

Mig’s foreleg continued to squish against your clit, the fluffy appendage moving in neat little circles over the bunched-up fabric. He pushed it in until your lips were perfectly highlighted by the thin silk. You felt Miguel staring.

‘F-Fuck—’ Your legs kicked involuntarily as a whimpered moan escaped you.

‘I said, what do you think you’re doing?!’ Miguel repeated louder.

‘I’m just abiding by the rules, sir’ Mig hissed. ‘If you want to observe, then you may observe. But this is my home, and I’ll act how I usually would on my own territory.’

It clicked for you then, still suspended in a potent mix of embarrassment and pleasure, what Mig was doing. You caught Miguel’s eye. This selfish asshole, who’d hounded and followed and attempted to embarrass you at every turn, was now stuck here watching Mig ravage your body. Against your better judgement, you were filled with the sheer thrill of embarrassing him right back.

You gave in and relaxed in Mig’s grip. ‘M-Miggy, fuck—more, please—’

You whimpered as he moved in to kiss your neck. His full lips were warm and wet on your jugular. You felt his tongue on your skin, his claws kneading your chest. A full body shudder went through you as he gently bit down and sucked.

‘F-Fuck- Mig—’

He was rough on your neck, his fangs easily piercing down through the soft flesh. It was a potent mix of pain and pleasure, especially with his paw still massaging your clit. Your blood was pumping at this point. Your pussy throbbed in short bursts with each tender caress.

‘You—Y-You—’

To his horror, Miguel stammered. He couldn’t even find the words to berate you with. All he could do was stand and stare, eyes fixated on this ravenous display of sexual need, powerless and confused.

‘Mm—mm—’ Mig released your neck with a wet pop and a satisfied grunt, revealing a deep red and blue hickey mark. He kissed it once.

‘Mm- you like that, arañita? Mi tesoro?’ he whispered.

‘Yes, fuck—so much. I missed you so much.’

Miguel continued to stare as Mig dropped you to the mattress. He watched his variant crawl across you, with his abdomen rustling and his soft paws tapping. He was drooling venom, practically shaking with the adrenaline rush of having an audience to his physical validation.

You reached out and sleepily welcomed him with open arms, drawing him down with your arms around his neck.

‘Let me mate with you, arañita’ Mig begged, his voice muffled as he kissed your neck. ‘Please. I need you. I need you. Te necesito, mi tesoro, te lo pido por favor.’

‘Yes’ you breathed, ‘yes. Please.’

Miguel snapped his eyes away and gripped the edge of the nest with his claws. He couldn’t stand this. If he left, he was a liar, but if he stayed he had to endure this show. He could tell you to stop, but, could he force you to stop?

He could have theoretically started a fight. He could have. He could have continued barking at you to stop.

But he didn’t. He just stood there, eyes on the wall and arms folded, trying to ignore your sweet little whimpers as Mig tore your suit aside.

He drew you close with his spider legs and began to spin a silken web across your bare skin, easily turning and spinning your body. He was soft, dexterous, so alien on your human skin. Such a filthily delicious taboo.

You lay back and let your monster bind you. You succumbed to him far too easily.

Mig spun you into a shibari style tie, with a neat little spider web on your chest and your hands tightly bound at your sides. He finished by binding your ankles with webbing he’d attached from the ceiling, using it to draw them up until they were taut and spread, with your hips right at the same height as where his phallus would emerge.

‘There. Perfect. Are you comfortable, arañita? In my web?’ he asked.

‘Y-Yes’ you rasped.

You watched Mig give an affectionate grunt as he admired you from above. He was huge. You saw his abdomen twitching and rustling with anticipation, the black fur faintly glowing the same red as his eyes.

‘Mig’ you whimpered, your lips pathetically wet. You were so hot it hurt.

‘Arañita…’

Mig purred as he put his clawed hand on your naked rear, giving your right ass cheek a firm squeeze. He wanted to look at your tight little hole, desperately dripping and clenching around nothing, aching for attention. You felt him brush one calloused finger against it and jolted in place.

‘That’s my little spider’ he purred. You felt him circling his finger around your entrance, stroking that velvety flesh until you whined.

‘Mi tesoro, my precious thing. Let me see how much you’ve missed me.’

He pushed two fingers in and you melted. The moan that escaped your lips was loud enough to echo, loud enough to grate on Miguel’s ears until he hissed.

He was trying not to look. He was facing the wall, body rigid as stone, but the noises were getting to him regardless. His mind kept imagining what you felt like.

‘You were supposed to be observing, sir’ Mig noted. He was still fucking you with his fingers, still spreading you wide as you dribbled over his hand, but his eyes were fixed on his counterpart now.

Miguel refused to turn. His eyes darted, once, and he immediately felt that disgusting flush rising in his cheeks.

‘I’ll- kill you, I swear to god’ Miguel seethed.

‘You can just go’ Mig offered. He was aggravatingly calm, the only emotion in his voice the slight pant of arousal from feeling you clench around his fingers. ‘If you’re- uncomfortable, with how I conduct myself with my mate.’

‘I can’t just, go, I am stationed here’ Miguel spat. ‘YOU could have some human dignity and cover yourself up!’

‘This is my home. My territory. THIS is my territory’ Mig replied coldly, emphasising the word ‘this’ by pushing his fingers as deep as he could. You bucked your hips and cried out in response, something that make Miguel’s stomach knot.

‘It is normal for- males, to assert their territorial claim. You’ve given me no other option. Besides, aren’t you curious? Since you’re so- good, and abstinent. Right? That’s what you told me, so how about I show you what it looks like?’

Miguel was forced once more to look away. The sound of you moaning, the sound of you pathetically whimpering, and worst of all the wet slap of Mig’s hand against your pussy as he pulsed his fingers in and out, it was stirring up something potent in him.

Anger and arousal flooded his mind. He was fighting to not throb. He couldn’t allow it, he couldn’t. He’d never forgive himself if he got enjoyment from this.

But, fuck you sounded so wet. You’d probably swallow him whole, begging and whining the whole time. Were you a little brat when fucked, complaining about it being too big, or did you beg for more? No. You probably took it all, your eyes covered in those pretty little tears as you were fucked raw.

He violently shook his head as if that would clear his thoughts, but your body cruelly decided to cum right as he was reaching the peak of his tether.

‘F-FUCK—’

Your back arched as that sweet release flooded over you. All you could see was Mig’s smug, fang-filled grin as he felt your insides clench, his enormous spider legs pattering back and forth to indicate his own excitement.

‘There you go. Well done, mi amor, you feel so pretty when you cum.’

Your body went limp as your orgasm sapped all your energy away, but Mig wasn’t done. He shifted himself down between your spread thighs and began licking up your slick with his flat, wet tongue, that warm muscle flicking deliciously right on your overstimulated clit.

You screamed, unabashedly, in a way that drove Miguel mad.

With a wet pant Mig pulled back just to slather you with praise. ‘Estas mojadita, mm- Quiero explorar tus sabores, arañita.’

You knew he was speaking deliberately to provoke Miguel, but you didn’t care. You enjoyed it even more that way.

He settled down to gently suck on your clit, his red eyes fixed on Miguel’s rigid form in the corner. The man was trying his hardest to stay sober but his eyes kept darting, and every time they did Mig widened his lips and ran his full tongue across your folds, wilfully dribbling hot spit and venom down your sensitive lips.

Miguel quickly looked away, but he just kept looking back.

You kept wincing from the overstimulation, your wet lips parting and then pursing hard to avoid screaming again. You must be so god damn sensitive, he thought. Such a fucking brat. Crying over a tongue like that.

He felt his cock throb and struggled to adjust his suit. He wondered what you tasted like. He’d never got to taste one before. It probably tasted amazing.

‘Mm… so soft…’ Mig murmured, his voice muffled by your pussy as he continued his rabid smothering of your cunt with his tongue. He wasn’t skilled so much as desperately passionate, and god knows it was enough.

‘Wish—I could eat you right up—all of you, all of you, mm—’

His eyes were dangerously red, but you were too close to cumming to care. His claws dug into your hips as he pulled you into his mouth, his lips soft as they ravenously made out with your clit.

You came quickly the second time.

‘FUCK—’

As you shuddered in his grip his entire body shivered, a low rustle emanating from his abdomen as it visibly shook.

‘Ahh.. ah, good arañita, that’s it’ he breathed dreamily. He was still licking, still lapping up everything he could, to the point that his spit was sliding and dripping down your thighs and rear and back.

Once you collapsed with exhaustion for the second time, Mig began to move in. He couldn’t wait a second longer. His cock was painfully erect, having sprung from the slit on his abdomen the moment he tied you down, and it was aching for you.

‘Here. Help get me wet’ he said softly.

You looked up to find Mig bent over your bound head, his thick shaft lightly pulsing about an inch from your lips. You could see each black vein pulsing, the tip already smeared in pearly cum. In a trance you licked it.

‘M-mm—that’s it, that’s it.’

It was adorable the way he shivered at just the lightest brush of your tongue. He let you take the tip into your mouth and gently suck on it a little. Fuck, you thought, his cum was sweet. Strangely sweet. The sensation of warm, heavy, throbbing skin on your tongue was mesmerising.

After a few wet licks Mig gently released your mouth with a wet pop. With everything now utterly saturated and sopping, he moved to fuck you instead.

‘Shh, that’s it’ he soothed. You stirred in your bindings as he mounted your strapped body.

‘I’ve got you. You can take it.’

With both hands on your ankles, Mig drew you body up and began to penetrate. Instinctively you squirmed.

‘A-Ah--!’

‘Shh, shh. You’re so tight, mi tesoro. Can you loosen up for me?’ Mig affectionately whispered. You tried your best to relax as he edged deeper but with an audience it was hard. His thick veined cock was pulsating hard, stuck with only about a fourth of it inside you.  

In truth, Mig was enjoying it. He would never hurt you, but, was his ego slightly peaked at how big he looked inside you? Absolutely. Spiders were judged on their size, after all, and that primal part of his brain loved feeling so large. He wanted Miguel to see you spread wide on his cock.

‘Shh, you can do it. You’ve done it so many times before, arañita.’

Another subtle jab, one that made Miguel sneer.

Mig gave himself plenty of time to fit. He’d pump a few times, gently stretching you out, and when it proved too tight he moved to licking you instead. He’d let his cock slide out and replaced it with his tongue, eagerly slathering every inch of your pussy with venom and spit. The venom helped ease the ache and the spit was lubricating enough, and after three or so tries he bottomed out.

You whimpered as he settled himself inside you. Yes, you’d taken him many times, but it always took you by surprise. You were stretched to the limit, your belly bulging, his thick shaft putting a heavy pressure on your muscles that you felt whenever you moved. When he throbbed it pulsed through your entire body.

He could see those pretty little tears on your lashes as you grappled with the pressure, the light pain in your core.

‘F-Fuck… ‘s so big, fuck—’ you whined.

‘You’re doing so good’ Mig praised. He vibrated his abdomen just a little to help ease the ache, as it allowed his shaft to gently vibrate against your insides. Your body shuddered at the unusual sensation. ‘Shh, you’re doing so, so good. That’s it. You’re taking it so well.’

Slowly, Mig started to move.

His whole body arched as he thrust into you, the power of each movement making your thighs and ass jiggle on impact. He loved feeling how soft you were, how squishy and comparatively small you were against him, how his claws sank into your bare skin. He started to pant.

‘Ah… ah, that’s it.’

In the corner Miguel was wincing. His eye kept twitching from the strain of not looking, and now the soft thwap of your mating was ringing in his ears. He couldn’t stand this. He couldn’t take his humiliation. He couldn’t take it.

‘Ah-- Maybe I’ll, rip that patch off, arañita’ Mig purred. He was pushing the limits in this pussy drunk state, pushing every button that Miguel possible had.

‘I think—you deserve a belly full of my babies, don’t you, sweetheart?’ he panted. ‘I want to see what you do with my seed. Let- let me fill you, please, pretty little spider. Let me get you pregnant.’

It was too much. Miguel snapped. He rose to his feet and stormed forward in a blind rage, his claws spread and ready to tear you both apart.

‘¡QUÉ CABRÓN ERES!—’

But then he faltered. Once actually face-to-face with the mirror image of himself he weakened, because Mig was, as you’d noted before, huge. He was bent over to fuck you but still had to look down at Miguel, his red eyes burning in the dim light. His fangs were bigger, his claws sharper, and his body heftier from carrying such weight.

Miguel froze. He’d always seen Mig cowering or backing down, too afraid of his own strength to show it, but he wasn’t afraid anymore. To his great shame, Mig saw the hesitation in his eyes. The spider’s lips curled into a soft smile.

Mig continued to move inside you, openly panting onto his counterpart’s face with each hard thrust.

‘Mm—mm—mmf—’

You jolted slightly with each pump as your belly bulged.

Beneath the two you were helpless, your body small and bound. You were inches away from Miguel’s thick thighs, his carefully contoured pelvis sitting right above your face. You saw his suit throb and desperately tried to look away.

‘You— Y-You—’ Miguel bared his teeth in a desperate attempt to regain control, but his eyes gave away his own perverted thoughts. He was losing. His breath was hot and his cheeks were the colour of burnt umber.

You let out another pitiful whine as Mig arched himself back, allowing just half of his shaft to pump into you so he was rubbing your g-spot. You immediately swooned, a slurry of mewls and moans dripping from your wet lips.

Miguel couldn’t help it. He looked down.

Right in front of Mig he looked down at you, bound and helpless beneath, brainlessly taking that monstrous cock right into your guts.

His lips parted, flashing just an inch of fang. His own lips were wet at this point.

‘F-Fuck’ he grunted.

He could see it pulsing in and out. He could see the glistening slick coating his abdominal fur, thick and sticky and hanging in strings. He could see the way your cunt stretched to swallow every inch of Mig’s shaft. How could you let out those soft, needy moans when you were impaled like that?

‘Fffuuuccck’ he repeated in a low whine.

‘Mine.’

Mig hissed that word with dangerous intent, right in Miguel’s face. He continued to pant on him as he pumped, and Miguel continued to watch you get fucked. His hand was shaking at this point.

‘Sweet arañita, who do you belong to?’ Mig panted.

You felt his cock slipping right up against your velvety little cunt and abruptly clenched, involuntarily squirting slick all over his soft fur. It clung to his fur in pearly strings, and he gave an approving grunt as he felt it.  

‘Arañita, mi amor, your body is too kind, but I need your words’ he whispered. He was unnervingly calm as he rocked inside you.

‘I-I’m yours’ you dumbly panted. You were rewarded with another toe-curling insertion, that perfectly timed grind which pushed his fat girth into your spot. A flood of aching pleasure forced you to squirt again.

‘MMF- Mmm, Mig!’

‘That’s it, good arañita. You’re all mine’ Mig praised a second time.

Miguel couldn’t stop watching. It was maddening.

Instinctively his hand began to creep downward, his fingers shaking as they drifted to your swollen clit. He wanted to feel how wet it was, how warm, but the moment he drifted over your lips he was forced back by Mig.

The larger spider hissed violently, his pale green venom pooling and dribbling from his mouth. A little bit hit Miguel’s cheek as he fell onto his backside.

‘Mine’ he repeated. ‘I’ll let you look, but you don’t touch.’

The embarrassment was unbearable. Miguel scowled, torn between a desire to leave and a desire to fight. Those urges he’d desperately tried to avoid were ruining his brain.

Seeing Miguel’s obvious distress, Mig decided to make it so much worse. He wasn’t done humiliating his other half, not yet.

‘Unless, they want you to’ he panted. Mig pulled back and gently tilted your body so you’d catch Miguel’s eye, all while maintaining his wet probing of your cunt.

‘Do you want him, arañita? Or do you want me?’

At this point you’d been fucked dumb, and you were barely coherent. You were drooling onto the silk, your thighs saturated in slick and sweat, your legs trembling from overstimulation as he continued to fill you like a toy.

‘You’ you whined with zero hesitation, ‘you, I want—you, please, Mig, more—’

You didn’t see the overt disappointment in Miguel’s face, the bruising of his ego. You didn’t see the jealousy in his face as Mig groaned.

‘You sure?’ Mig purred. His gratification was fuelling his over-confidence, as was the sweet release of feeling wanted after years of neglect. ‘You wouldn’t want some extra?’

‘Mm—want—you, p-please—f-fuck its so good, so—big— you’re amazing, Mig.’ Your words were slurring each time he pumped his cock, but he heard you loud and clear.

‘Even though I’m a- filthy, half-way spider?’ he coaxed. ‘Even though I’m- a monster?’

‘Yes- f-fuck, you’re my spider’ you whined.

His whining got louder, his moans turning to pathetic whimpers. He seemed more aroused by that than anything else.

‘Ah- you want me to mate with you?’ he pleaded.

‘Yes, yes—please.’

‘You want my babies, arañita? You want me to impregnate that pretty little body? Get you nice and full?’

‘Yes, yes, fuck—’

Those soft words tipped you over the edge as you orgasmed for the third time, your desperate moans echoed out into the wider forest. Mig savoured them with a look of pure ecstasy on his face. ‘F-fuck, you’re- so tight—good arañita, so good, well done’ he breathlessly praised.

Miguel wanted nothing more than to break his counterparts chiselled face. He could feel his claws extending, his heart pounding. He was itching for a fight. But, if he fought him, he’d have to stop watching. Those soft sounds were addictive as they floated through his mind, lulling him like a siren call.

Miguel took another look at your glassy eyes and wet lips, your body shimmering with sweat as you moaned. He felt himself throb. It was, in a way, easing his rut, by vicariously experiencing this primal breeding.

It was mortifying, but he stayed. He stayed back and watched as Mig continued to mate you.  

‘Mm- fuck they’re so tight’ Mig moaned, now directly addressing Miguel. ‘So- soft, so- tight—so small. Can’t, wait to fill them—’

‘You’re disgusting’ Miguel spat.

Mig didn’t even seem to hear. His eyes were half closed, his lips parted as he felt your sweet cunt squeeze the life out of him.

‘Mm—mm—mi arañita—mine’ he repeated, over and over with each thrust. Miguel buried his face in his knees.

The clap of his fluffy abdomen on your bare ass filled the nest as he started to get rougher. He looked high, his eyes almost pink in the dim light. Every part of him was shaking.

‘Ah—I’m inside them—I’m inside them—’

 You squeaked as Mig started to push your ankles back, curling your spine so he could get deeper. He’d involuntarily covered the floor in webbing from his sheer excitement. He was like a man in rapturous prayer.

‘I’m inside them-- they’re mine—’

Each wet thrust was now splashing slick as Mig began to verbally pant. He was spanking your body with each insertion, releasing the most obscenely lewd noises.

‘Okay, I’m close- I’m close, fuck—stay still for me arañita, that’s it—’

With a guttural groan Mig aggressively ejaculated inside you, his abdomen jerking and grinding to get each spurt as deep into your cunt as possible. You welcomed the thick warmth as it soothed your stretched out muscles.

Miguel had no choice. His pride wouldn’t let him leave, so he watched Mig cum inside you.

He fixated on your face as it happened, his sharp eyes watching the drool pooling from your open lips as your eyes rolled. He sneered, trying to disguise his jealousy with disgust. He could have done that easily, he told himself, he could have filled you just as well.

‘Ah…. Fuck, are you okay arañita?’

As Mig gently rocked to a halt he bent to check your face, tenderly nestling your cheek. You could only moan in response.

‘I’m- so, good—so, so good…’

Mig let out a soft sigh of relief. Somehow, the tenderness of his aftercare seemed to disgust Miguel more than anything else he’d seen. He was scowling openly as Mig gently slid himself out and admired his work.

‘Pretty little spider… Do you want to see?’

Miguel was taken aback as Mig addressed him directly. The larger man had his hand on your suspended hips, his eyes glowering in the candlelight.

The two narrowed their eyes almost in unison. Miguel knew he should leave, but he was too far gone at this point to stop. It was over. He was a beaten dog of a man, so why not indulge once more? He silently walked across the room to admire your quivering body.

‘Is that okay, arañita?’ Mig whispered to you. You nodded, and with a grunt Mig lifted your hips for Miguel to see.

You were utterly soiled at this point. Mig put his huge hand on your rear and tilted you gently, showing off the thick white seed oozing down your thighs. He made a point to push some back inside you with his finger, only for even more to squish out. You were stuffed.

Miguel shamefully relished the sight. It was strangely soothing, like he was tricking his brain into thinking he’d finished himself and could therefore ease the rut he was in.

‘This is mine’ Mig purred, his claw squeezing your right cheek until it left a red imprint. ‘This beautiful little creature, is mine. Understood?’

As Mig quietly addressed Miguel again he made a point of sealing your entrance shut with his web, excreting a thick and sticky plug right over your cunt. You oomphed as he did.

‘Yes’ Miguel hissed through gritted teeth.

‘And you won’t stop me enjoying them’ Mig added coldly. ‘I… I, deserve this. I’m not a threat. I’m not like, you.’

Mig felt you proudly shuffle your hips into his palm.

‘I’m not a threat’ he repeated. ‘And you can hound us all you want. I’m done with you now. I have… I have them.’

As you rolled and moaned on the floor Miguel felt his nose involuntarily wrinkling. He was still a mess of anger, resentment, and arousal, all of which were fighting each other in a gut-churning mess. All he knew is, he couldn’t stay here another minute.

‘You’re both animals. You deserve each other’ he grunted.

Miguel stormed towards the nest’s entrance as Mig began to cut you free. ‘I’ll finish my watch outside’ he called over his shoulder, and when Mig’s only response was to chuckle he snarled.

Miguel pushed open the door and jumped to the ground, his feet thumping as he hit the cold forest floor.

As he moved into position to watch he could hear you giggling above him in the nest. He couldn’t make out what you were saying but you sounded happy. Mig sounded happy too, with his soft words and his gleeful chuckles.

Miguel breathed out, hard, his breath turning to vapor in the air. The forest was a sea of black and white, with no illumination spare the pale, draining light of the moon.

He stood, rigid, as he listened to you and Mig laughing upstairs.

And then he palmed his crotch. He rubbed himself hard, his calloused fingers feeling each inch of his own fat girth.

His breath came a little faster. His blood was pumping in the cold air, his body steaming. With a desperately muffled moan he phased his suit away at the groin and began to stroke his cock.

‘Fuck…. Fuck, fuck—’

He was dripping pre-cum in mere seconds as he strained in his own fist. In his mind, he indulged. It made him sick to his stomach but he indulged regardless. He thought about your pleading, your doe eyes as you blinked away those overstimulated tears. The sounds of pleasure. The sounds of being wanted.

It was easy to blank out Mig’s lower body. It was easy to see that as him, to put himself there like a mirror, and to pretend he was receiving your praise, that he was inside you. It was him, after all. His face, his eyes.

No one-night stands. No desperate, animal fucking to placate his brain. He could pretend for one moment he was experiencing something real. Those soft words, that need for more. I’m yours, you’d said. He replayed it in his mind.

So wet. So tight. Squirming on his cock, begging for more. Begging for him. Pulsing, filling, breeding. Being so wanted that you’d let him get you pregnant.

Oh god. Being wanted.

He vicariously put himself in his counterpart’s place, and with his free hand over his mouth he orgasmed onto the ground below. It was hard enough to make his body shudder and his knees weak. He coated the grass in his seed, the strings glistening slightly in the pale moonlight, before slowly phasing his suit back on.

The post-orgasm clarity hit him like a bus. Now satiated all he had was rage. Rage at himself that he couldn’t accept, and so just as he’d vicariously lived through his variant, he shifted all the blame to Mig.

He was going to ruin his counterpart’s life, whether it killed him or not.

But, first, he’d live through him. Link to next part

[wikiangela]

If Tommy was so bad and so dismissive of Buck’s issues, I like to think Buck would tell him so.

but hey, Buck hasn’t said jack. Buck has a voice. He can speak. Right?

someone needs to tell me when Buck became a wee little boy without any agency. Honestly, has anyone suggested that tommy is raping him yet? I mean, we are practically one flirty or sexy scene away from such claims by the rabid bobs.

jfc I feel like people forget buck is a grown man who can speak for himself, all those people still infantilizing him are so gross - and do y'all remember buck 1.0 aka self-diagnosed sex addict? or the ring cutter? man has experience, he's surely more than fine with kinky shit lol

not to mention he started flirting with the whole "I guess we both have daddy issues" with that flirty tone and expression and head tilt

and when Tommy said "i don't" he could've said literally anything else, but decided to go with "but you think i do?" in an equally flirty tone, and we already know Tommy is a smooth mf who doesnt miss an opportunity to flirt with buck lol

like, what scene did yall watch where it came across as anything but boyfriends flirting?

also, the claims that after buck opened up, Tommy's comment was inappropriate after the "traumatic day bucks had" has me like???? bc the entire conversation has been going from serious to jokey bc they're on a date and trying to keep things light while also slowly getting to know each other and talking briefly about their dads - and maybe its just me, but after the day Buck's had, maybe some humor and flirting can be a good distraction and comfort? maybe?

if tommy was so awful and making buck feel so horrible, i dont think buck would still be dating him and smiling at him like this and looking at him with the biggest heart eyes, but what do i know 🤔

[sundogsandrainbows]

Hi, I'm sorry to write to you out of the blue, but Of Elves and Humans was the first DA longfic that got me hooked back in 2011 when I, as a dumb teen, happened to pick up DAO. Ever since then, the DA universe has been a constant fixation of mine and my admiration for you as a writer as well as someone who isn’t afraid to call out the franchise's flaws has never wavered. Now that Bioware decided to take a massive shit on everything pre-DAV and their oldest fans specifically, I'm really devastated and feel like a fool for having been so invested in DA and its lore for those past 13 years. It’s incredibly encouraging, however, to see you keep on keeping on. "So since they spat in my face like this I ignore this atrocity of a game even exists" is where I hope to be at soon, too. Thank you.

(First of all apologies for the late reply, I put it in my drafts when i was too tired to complete it, and then my adhd brain forgot it existed due to being distracted by new shinies 😂☠)

But aww omg i cannot believe i was the gateway drug into dragon age, or rather the old version of my story on FFN was. I am so very honored <3 And nonnie, I feel you. I am invested in DA as a series since DA:O's release in 2009, like I bought it on a whim for XBox because I liked Mass Effect 1 sm. So that is 15 yrs of my life i spent loving and discussing a thing while still being critical of the thing, but now i feel so very protective of the world, lore and its characters that "New Bioware" has decided to take a massive dump of shit on, and not only the games but the old fans I feel are treated with disdain too and do not matter to them any longer.

Long, subjective rant about current bioware aka the shambling corpse of its former self and talent incoming. Spoilers for Veilguard bc i don't give a fuck to avoid them :D You (general you, not you in particular dearest nonny <3) should use your time better than to play this shit anyhow 😂

It feels like calculated malice of new Bioware to apply the scorched earth tactics to offscreen destroy everything that old fans and fans of the other games in general held dear, and was supposed to suck out the enjoyment of DAO, DA2 and DAI. Like it is obvious they plan to create a sequel on DA's scorched bones, but jfc, you can do so story-wise without spitting everyone loving what old bioware has built in the face after dropkicking them. But to me that is part of the problem, since if i remember correctly and i wish i could find the bit... they praised Veilguard as "The best Dragon Age game ever", with the most interesting companions and best most improved combat system, comparing it to the other three games in a near smug fashion. There is marketing and there is putting the other games down to prop up your most favorite and only child mattering and they were definitely doing the latter. And don't get me started on the whole "Who is Zevran" debacle or we are gonna here all day.

Bottom line is new/current devs and writer do not give a shit about and very possibly have never played any other game than Inquisition, and you cannot tell me otherwise. And since a lot of devs/writer have left since the start of this project that would become this abysmal game, I also have the impression that there is a lot of underlying resentment toward what these former colleagues have created and so they piss on it in order to make it fully theirs now. Like dogs marking their territory, and well that did not work out, imo. At all.

Ever since they announced respecting our past choices by ignoring them (????) it was clear to me that I would not play Veilguard but just watch a playthrough and all spoilers and then move on. And everything i saw before release was shocking... like i was flabbergasted at how baaaad the dialogue was, which as a writer myself is super important to me in my story. There was no subtext, characters just blurt out everything they think and feel, like a lifeless doll you squeeze and words tumbling out and just as natural. It is stilted, awkward and 80% of it exists for info dump or info dumb rather as they keep repeating the same shit they just told you a few seconds ago as if you as the player are braindead. Here is a good example of what i mean.

Jfc, who edited this crap? There is so much superfluous dialogue that adds nothing to a scene but annoyance for the player and says nothing at all. Just pure senseless yapping in the most cringy way. Why was no one there to trim this nonsense as you should as a writer/editor? Hell, they really disregarded every simple and basic writing rule (everything is told never SHOWN for example especially in dialogue) which really made me question their competence in what they were doing and thus the quality of the upcoming game but i still held out hope for it to not be that bad.

Well shit, it was even worse. In all regards. Especially the writing that cringed this writer into a new dimension with its incoherent incompetence. Jfc. they got paid for that? I'm convinced the majority of fandom writer can do much better, even unpaid. Hell my cat just by walking over the keyboard can manage a better draft and script...💀

But I digress. That is a rant for another time. Point is, nonny, despite my defiant words, I struggled too for days after i got to know the full extent of Bioware's spiteful fuckery to even look at anything da related, in my case my Alistair/Mahariel longfic. I was really down for a few days, ngl. Then again, there is nothing better than spite fueling my creativity to prove "i can write better" soooo in the end and with the help of the much better first version of DA4 in the artbook, I was able to exorcise the demons and feverdream-mindfuck of mediocrity sold to me as a turd with gold-glitter that is this game.

I have successfully now rejected its existence, filled the void with the version that should have been from the artbook and vowed to give no fucks what bioware is doing or saying and infinitely more fucks when writing my own version of thedas and the version of DA4 that should be. REWRITES BBY hell yeah. So OEAH:R is just the beginning of a verse-wise rewrite. But if you need a pick me up, nonny, you are very much welcome to take a trip down memory lane to Dragon 9:30 and see how much this iteration of the story differs from my first one back in the days. Because in this house of mine, we grow and learn as writers, unlike bioware where writer ego reigns surpreme (oh boy and does it ever show in VG) aka eating their own turds and tell themselves it is the finest chocolate 💀

There is still a lot of good about DA out there, but we have to accept it does not come from Bioware any longer. Instead it came, comes and will come from the fans and creators of art and texts and words defying their bullshit with their love and respect for the world, its lore and characters. Also very unlike Bioware.

As we should <3

[milky-fixx]

claim

genshin impact | werewolf!childe x reader

prompt: werewolf + knotting/breeding

summary: childe has been acting strange lately. clingy, possessive--not to mention, his insatiable sexual appetite. a sparring match goes wrong and it turns out your fatui lover may have more secrets up his sleeve than you had imagined... 

word count: 5.9k jfc

tw/cw: 18+ only, afab reader, knotting, breeding, impregnation kink, marking, hickeys, masturbation, talk of having children.

--author’s note: sorry this took me an ungodly amount of time to finish! i have been struggling with it for over a month. special thank you to all my friends who i forced to read this and give me feedback on teehee ahem cough y’all know who you are @honey-oak​ @universal-imagines​ @moonsickcafe​

–

The thing is, he’s different.

“Oolong, when subject to a heavy roast, produces an intense, powerful taste, balanced by light floral notes… a complex and balanced flavor. In my days, I’ve sampled many an oolong tea…”

You nod out of respect, even as your mind is wandering. Zhongli was the one who invited you to Heyu Tea House to thank you for your help in introducing several clients to his consulting services. Of course, you didn’t refuse. It seemed a lovely chance to catch up with a friend, and to distract yourself from your ginger-haired companion’s strange behavior.

Yet now instead of relaxing, your thoughts are consumed by him.

You can’t quite put your finger on how. If Tartaglia could be described with one word, it certainly would not be predictable. The man seems open, affable, but it’s all surface-level–he has enough secrets to keep you on your toes, should you get swept into his tides.

Ever since he returned to Liyue after calling off a Fatui mission, though, his behavior’s been... strange. Even for him.

“The boldest taste, however, comes from the leaves found in Jueyun Karst. They have a distinct minerality… almost like Scotch…”

His manner is still jovial, teasing… but his words are sharper now, like the jagged edge of a claw. Like he’s laughing at some kind of joke that only he knows. That same toothy grin he always sports seems more menacing than boyish. It’s like he can’t keep his hands off you. A hand on your back, around your waist–his touches have gotten more outlandish, his hands straying to your ass, your breasts, even in public. You’ve had to smack his hands away more than once.

And the sex, Archon’s above, the sex.

It’s downright animalistic. Him grunting above you, his hips snap snap snapping against yours. He’d left bruises in the shape of his fingertips from how hard he was gripping you, telling you fuck, Tsaritsa above, you’re tight, so fucking wet. And the dirty talk.

You’d never before entertained the thought of children, but the way Tartaglia could spin the most lewd fantasies from his smart mouth (“Wanna be a stay at home mom for me, hm? Want me to just fill you and fuck you till you’re practically begging me to knock you up every second?”)

“One can’t forget the oolong cultivated in Qingce village… They possess a powerful, roasted character… an entirely different flavor from the ones typically seen in Liyue…”

Not to mention, the one time he growled into your neck during sex, sounding less human and more animal,

“You’re mine.”

And the way he laughed it off when you asked him what the fuck that meant. Because even if it was one of the most explosive orgasms you’ve ever had (“Comrade, really! You don’t have to flatter me so,” he said, grinning from ear-to-ear once he noticed your legs wobble as you tried to stand. He caught you  before you fell, of course; he always did), you weren’t an object, a toy.

A possession. His possession. 

You can only assume the way he brushed it off meant he thought otherwise.

Every attempt at getting to the root cause of his behavior left you even more confused, though.

“Whatever are you talking about, comrade?” he would say. “Isn’t it normal to be excited to see my lover after such a long time apart? Aren’t you flattered that I can’t seem to keep my hands off of you?”

“I believe the tea served at Heyu Tea House is sourced directly from Mt. Tiansheng… That would explain the crisp, refreshing quality to the tea we’re tasting now.”

Like the Hydro element he was gifted with, Tartaglia could sway the tides of the convo any way he preferred. Trying to get to the truth of things would only leave you more frustrated.

Your last hope then is patience. Tartaglia after all,  is anything but good at keeping secrets. While he had many, he can’t help but drop hints every now and then, as if enticing you to guess upon the truth of them all.

Zhongli’s keen gaze captures your attention, and it’s then that you realize you’ve been blatantly zoning out in the middle of conversation. You shift, muttering out a quick apology. He clears his throat meaningfully before continuing. “But enough about my extensive knowledge of tea. Tell me, how have you been?”

“Oh, I’ve been… fine. Alright.”

He stares at you pointedly. You get the sense that he is treading carefully. “And in regards to your… romantic endeavors?”

You raise a brow at the question, having hardly expected it from Zhongli of all people. “Romantic…?” Then it hits you. “Oh, do you mean Childe?”

Zhongli nods, sipping his tea.

“Wait…” Your brow furrows. “How did you know... ?”

"Ah. Well. Ahem. Word gets around.”

You glance at him suspiciously.

Zhongli glances pointedly at your neck, and that’s when you realize the hickey Tartaglia had left on you last night is visible. You flush, adjusting your collar to hide it.

“I may have been privy to certain… sounds during my last business trip to Wangsheng Inn.”

You stare at him uncomprehendingly until he clears his throat. That’s when you realize. The first night Tartaglia came back, he booked a room at the inn. Then he proceeded to bend you over in various positions on damn near every surface. The two of you ended up breaking more than a few furniture items, to which Childe flashed his not-insignificant collection of Mora to the receptionist.

"Oh... oh no. No. Zhongli, please don’t tell me you heard us.”

He takes a sip of his tea again. His silence is answer enough.

You nearly smack your head on the table. The fact that Zhongli knows you’re fucking the Harbringer… the fact that he heard you two. That others had. You can imagine no less embarrassing situation. Maybe if you fell off the top of Mt. Hulao, no one would be able to whisper behind your back about the shameless harlot traveler…

“He asked about you, as soon as he arrived in town. Childe.”

“He... asks about me?” you say, surprised.

Zhongli’s brows arch. “Yes. Often. Annoyingly so.”

Tartaglia’s mysterious way of showing up exactly where you were at the most inopportune moments is apparently because he had informants around town. “Sorry about that, Zhongli–”

“Ah, Mr. Zhongli! I see you’re getting well-acquainted with my friend here.”

Speak of the devil.

“Childe!”

“Hey there,” he says. He immediately makes his way to you, crossing his arms against your chair. Close. Extremely close. You can feel his gloved hand brush against your shoulder. “I was wondering where you ran off to.”

“I told you I was seeing a friend today.”

“A friend, yes. You didn’t mention it was Mr. Zhongli,” he clarifies, and there’s a peculiar note to his voice.

You’re certainly not… imagining the hint of accusation in his words, are you?  

“Ah, Childe. Nice to see you again.”

“Nice seeing you again too, Mr. Zhongli. Hope I’m not crashing the party,” he says, placing a hand on your shoulder, squeezing slightly. You notice Zhongli’s gaze dart to it briefly.

“We were just having some tea. Discussing matters.”

“Really? It looks delicious,” he says good-naturedly. “I’d love to try some.”

“I’ll flag down a waiter for you,” Zhongli offers.

“Nonsense. I have the perfect solution.” Tartaglia reaches for your cup, but you grab it just in time. He frowns, and triumphant, you take a sip. But you miss the devious look in his face.

When you try to set the cup down, he leans in. Surprised, you nearly gag on the tea. But he persists, leaning until his lips are pressed firmly against yours. You gasp, and some of the tea overflows from your mouth, flowing into his. He swallows the tea greedily, until you shove him in the chest. You sit back in your seat, face flushed. Zhongli coughs.

“Too bitter for my taste! Certainly could be sweeter,” Tartaglia concludes.

“Y-You--I--” You  rub your lips furiously.

“Well,” he purses his lips. “I’m sure (Y/N) added some sweetness to it already~”

Zhongli clears his throat meaningfully. “Curious.”

“Childe, I’m going to end you–” you start, before he interrupts by dropping several Mora onto the table.

“Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Zhongli. It’s my treat. Come now,” he says, grasping your arm. “Murderous rage is the perfect motivation for a fine battle. And I think you owe me a spar.”

–

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you demand once the two of you are away enough from the tea house. You made sure to duck into an alley to avoid the hoards of passerby, halting him in his tracks.

He shrugs, uncaring.

“Seriously. That was embarrassing! In front of Zhongli too.”

“It’s not like he doesn’t know. He keeps tabs on nearly everything in Liyue,” Tartaglia says airily. Unaffected.

You give him a death glare. “Oh yeah. He knows all right. Says the whole damn country heard us the other night.”

A triumphant grin tugs at his face. Pride rings in his voice. “Yeah? I can’t say that’s a bad thing.”

You jab his chest. “You’re so annoying.”

He grasps your hand, curling the fingers in. His gaze intense, cocky. “But you like it.”

“I tolerate it.”

“You enjoy it,” he persists, brow furrowing. “You enjoy me--”

“Debatable.”

“Hah.” He cocks a brow. “Debatable? That’s not what your screaming from last night said--”

"Ahem,” you interrupt, shushing him as someone walks by. He raises a brow, but says nothing. “Didn’t you say I owed you a spar?"

He brightens up instantly, like a child who was just delivered a gift. It’s ridiculous. You have to remind yourself that Tartaglia’s first true love after all, has always been and will always be fighting.

“You did! I’m glad you didn’t forget, comrade. I’ve been looking forward to it. I know a perfect spot in Mingyun Village--”

“Is that why you dragged me away from my date?” you ask even as you follow him.

His laughter dies down. He stops suddenly, glancing at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

“No. I dragged you away from Mr. Zhongli because I don’t like the way he looks at you. You’re mine.”

“I’m not an object, you know that?” you say, frustrated. “Not some kind of weapon you can claim, master.”

“Of course you’re not,” Tartaglia says. “But when I say you’re mine, I mean you belong only to me.”

The certainty in his voice sends you shivers.

He brightens up suddenly though. “Now come! We’re almost there.” He grips your hand tighter, walking quicker now. You notice his hand is hot, the heat seeping through the thin material of his gloves. Almost like you’re touching a furnace. Playing with fire. 

—

Whatever ailment has afflicted Tartaglia, it certainly hasn’t dampened his fighting spirit. In fact, he’s particularly vicious today. There’s a fire in his eyes with every blow that lands against yours. With inhuman speed, he’s quick to strike, catching you by surprise with an underhanded move. One second, you’re upright, and the next you’re lying flat on your back, his knees caging both sides of your body, his Hydro-infused sword pressed against the side of your neck.

“I win.”

“N-Not fair! When did you get so fast?”

“Life isn’t fair, comrade,” he says, grinning. You blink. For a second, you were almost certain his teeth seemed sharper somehow, the tips of his canines glinting in the light.

It must be your imagination.

He helps you up after his victory, but you decide you’ll also play underhanded. You grasp his hand, taking advantage of his lack of balance. Then you’re the one pinning him to the ground, sword inches before his throat.

“Neither is love~”

Tartaglia’s eyes narrow.

You’re certain he’s going to make a move. A counterattack. He is after all, not one to quit until you two are roughed up and dirtied. Until neither of you can put a fight any longer.

You’re hardly expecting his next move.

He tugs you forward by your shirt collar with inhuman strength. You yelp. And then he’s crashing his face against yours, his lips meeting yours in a battle for dominance.

His kiss is rough, demanding. Like he wants to swallow the very fibers of you up. Like he wants to eat you up. Something sharp prods your lower lip and you recoil at the iron tang of blood.

When did his teeth get that sharp?

You frown, but he takes the chance to lap at your lower lip, sucking on it as if soothingly.

He’s fevered.  

Literally. His forehead against yours running hot.

Tartaglia feels like he’s burning up.

You push him away, gasping. His lips are stained with your blood. Despite the sight, your gaze is drawn upwards, where something orange twitches behind his hair.

What the...

Atop Tartaglia’s head are two fuzzy triangular ears. In the shape of a canine’s ears.

“What the fuck?”

--

The thing is, it makes sense.

His lust for fighting, his unruffled manner. The way he likes to bring out his teeth in the bedroom, nipping you in the neck when you said something particularly amusing. (The one time he drew blood and you got pissed.) The gleam of his canines when he grins. (Too sharp to be human.) The feral glint in his eyes that promises nothing but pain--whether in response to someone stealing away your attention, or a worthy opponent.

Tartaglia being a werewolf is the answer you would have never guessed, but in hindsight, the pieces fit together.

His features are sharper, more distinct. His canines pointed, his gaze sharp, his tail--he had a tail, dear god--ramrod straight. Hovering over you, he stares at you wide-eyed.

“You’re a--”

His ears twitch. “Well, I suppose you could call this a… hairy surprise.”

“You’re a furry? Seriously? That’s your big secret?”

“I--” He pauses. “Not… really? I’m a werewolf. You’re…” He cocks his head to the side. “Not surprised like I thought you would be.”

“You could’ve just said you were a furry,” you exclaim. “Not exactly rare around these parts. That would explain a lot!”

He blinks. “Come now, you can’t tell me you’re not even a smidge surprised?”

You raise a brow at him.

“You do act like a dog. So… not really.”

He laughs. You notice movement from the corner of your eye, and see his tail wagging. You gesture him to move off, and he does so reluctantly. Seated across from each other, you scrutinize him.

“So this is why you’re so eager to fight me?”

He lets out a hearty laugh. “When it’s that time of the month, fighting gives me a burst of energy I’m just itching to burn off.”

“Uh-huh.” You nod slowly.

Now that you think about it, you suppose that yes, there is always a certain time of the month where Tartaglia vanishes. You never stopped to question why or how, always assuming he had top secret back-to-back Fatui missions.

Never did you imagine that the cause of his absence would be a monthly transformation.

“Were you…” He perks up. “Were you always a werewolf? Did it happen recently?”

He hums. “Hmm, no. The Abyss is a strange place. You never know how it’ll affect you.”  

You nod. While you saw his Foul Legacy Transformation before, never did you think he had this other transformation as well. “What other changes do you undergo? I see you’re all… furried up.”

“Teeth, claws. I get an insatiable craving for raw meat... fighting… fucking.” You cough at the last word. He glances at you slyly, before letting out a bark of a laugh. “I’m not that different! I’m still me.”

Fucking, huh? That... that makes sense. You feel your cheeks heat up as you remember just how many amorous encounters the two of you had the past few days. He catches the movement, grinning. 

“Truthfully comrade… With you before me, all sweaty like this? I’m not sure I can hold back.”

Before you know it, Tartaglia surges forward. Your hands come out to support yourself from falling. His knees cage you, his face mere inches from yours, his hands planted onto the ground beneath you. Trapping you in place.

He gazes at you slyly, resting his chin on your chest. He inhales deeply, his ears twitching.  

He nips your collarbone, one arm coming back to grasp you, drawing you into him. Your arms are grateful for the relief, clinging to him. Then you’re in his lap, keenly aware of Tartaglia’s hungry expression staring up at you.

“But I,” He laughs. “I don’t even think you want me to hold back.”

His hands come up to cup your breasts through your shirt, squeezing roughly. He seems to grow frustrated with the material in his way though.

He rips through your shirt suddenly with a sharpened claw. You yelp, smacking his shoulder. He laughs heartily, before cupping your breasts with his bare hands.

“You’re s-so obsessed with these,” you mutter.

“Can you blame me? These are perfect. Soft and round.” He sighs. “They’d look even better, full with milk.”

He leans down, his teeth grazing a nipple. You shiver. “W-What the hell, Childe?”

He shrugs. It would be a lie to say you aren’t affected by his smart, dirty mouth. Heat simmers low in your abdomen. The thought of Childe knocking you up… of claiming you as his, of imprinting himself on you.

He laughs again. “I can smell you, you know?” He taps his nose. “Wolf senses. I think you like that idea more than you let on. I’m glad. I like it, too.”

“I…” His voice lowers. “Would love nothing more than to fuck you until you’re heavy with my child.”

The intensity of his gaze, the assurance of his promise, the gravelly quality to his tone–they all have you rubbing your thighs together, hoping vainly to get some kind of relief.

His hand trails down to the hem of your pants. He tugs at them roughly before his claw slices through the thin material of your panties.

“H-Hey! Childe, what the hell. I actually like that pair.”

“Ngh, I’ll buy you new ones later. I just wanna feel you… fuck, you’re soaked.”

Tartaglia is smart enough to not stick his claws inside you, instead using the back of his index and third fingers to rub against your clit. You shudder. While usually it wouldn’t be enough to get you off, combined with his panting against your neck, his hips rutting up into you, his hand rubbing your nipple. It’s all too much. You keel forward, a gasp of his name ripping from your throat as your walls contract around nothing.

Tartaglia continues to rub you through your orgasm, even as pinpricks of sensitivity have you shaking above him, begging him to stop. Finally, mercifully, his hand leaves you. He brings it up to his mouth, inhaling deeply before lapping at the juices smeared on his fingers.  

“Fuck, comrade, that was hot.”

You’re the one who initiates the kiss this time, pressing insistently against him. Wanting to repay him back in some way. Sitting atop his thighs, you grow more and more aware of his burgeoning need pressing up against you, and when you break the kiss, glancing down, you’re not surprised to see his heavy erection straining the front of his pants.

“Here?” you ask, breathless.

Tartaglia cracks a wicked grin. “You minx. Of course we can–”

He stills suddenly. Glancing to his right, the both of you catch sight of an unsuspecting villager, who immediately drops his basket of grains after catching sight of the two of you. You are sure you pose more of an indecent sight, your shirt and pants torn, your skin exposed. Tartaglia holds you to him, attempting to hide you from his gaze.

“I–I’m sorry!”

“Nothing to see here, old man,” Tartaglia says testily. “Keep moving.”

After he leaves, he turns to you. “Now, where were we–”

“Where were we? What do you mean? The mood is ruined!”

Now not only did everyone at Liyue Harbor know you were a harlot, but so did a poor, unsuspecting elderly man from the countryside.

–

It’s not that you consider yourself a prude, per se. It’s that you’re trying to build up your reputation in Liyue, and these risque debacles really are making you look bad. Who can blame you though—you need to unlock those merchant discounts! Groceries nowadays are so expensive.

That’s what you tell yourself anyways, as you make your way back to your teapot, the sun having set in the horizon.

Tartaglia moaned and griped about getting blue-balled, but you told him he could wait until you two had a proper room and bed before getting frisky. You can’t risk any more rumors flying around. You sent him away on so you could finish doing your quests around Liyue.

The sight that you find at your teapot though, is not expected at all.

“Mngh, fuck, comrade. Fuck. So tight.”

“Are you… are you humping my pillows?” you ask, incredulous.

Tartaglia stutters your name out, voice pitching higher at the end. He’s kneeling on your bed, pants and shirt off, rutting into what seems like a pile of your pillows.

Your jaw drops. You take a minute to admire the sight afforded to you; it’s a rare opportunity for you to bask in the view: the hard muscles of his back tensing, the constellation of scars rippling with every thrust of his hips forward.

He’s still fucking your bed.

“Are you humping my pillows while I’m talking to you?” you repeat.

Tartaglia lets out something close to a whine.

“Mmh–yes? N-No? Y-Yes!”

You make your way closer. Sweat beads on his forehead, drips down his chest. Tartaglia’s biting down on his lip, his cheeks flushed. He jerks his hips into the pillows, driving his cock in and out in stilted motions, almost as if he can’t help himself. As if he can’t control his body.

Suddenly, you remember his words from earlier.

“Comrade, please… Are you really going to leave me blue-balled like this?”

An ounce of guilt registers in you.

“Are you okay? You seem kind of out of it.”

He gasps out an unconvincing yes. The closer you look, the more you can see the sheen of something sticky dripping down his abdomen, all over your sheets. With a start you realize it’s coming from him.

You swallow roughly, suddenly aware of just how packed the room is with the smell of his musk.

“How long have you been uh, doing this?” You gesture to him.

He grunts. “Since our last encounter.”

Your eyes widen. “Seriously? That was hours ago.”

Tartaglia gives you a shaky smile. “S-Seems I can’t help myself. S-Sorry…”

You stare uncomprehendingly.

Has Childe been jerking it in your room for hours? Is this… was this normal?

“You look like you could use a hand. Or… two.” The words are out of your mouth before you can think twice.

“Yes.” Tartaglia nearly jumps at the suggestion, freeing his cock from the makeshift pillow fucktoy he made.  His cock points stiffly towards his stomach, the tip near purple, twitching and drooling with his spend.

You blink several times. You can’t say for certain, but it seems bigger than last time you remember it. And Tartaglia’s cock was already menacing enough for a human’s.

Your eyes glance upwards at his ears.

Correction. His cock was menacing enough to be a werewolf’s.

Your hand circles his cock tentatively. Tartaglia hisses, bucks into your fist.  To your surprise, you can barely wrap your hand around the width of him. Definitely bigger.

Your hand thumbs the tip, and he gasps, hand fucking into your fist. And more sensitive.

You continue to stroke him, although it would be a stretch to say you’re doing most of the work—Tartaglia seems bent on fucking into anything that he can, thrusting into your fist with intention. It takes only a few pumps for him to hiss loudly, his cum coating your hand. He mutters out an apology, his hips still jerking into your hand.

Certainly, you think, he should be satiated by now. The amount he came not insignificant.

But to your surprise, his cock still throbs in your grasp, as hard as it was when you started.

���Does this–is this like a wolf thing?” you ask him.

“Ngh, comrade, I may have neglected to mention something important.”

You nod, urging him to continue.

“My transformation usually occurs only under the night of a full moon. But this time… it’s not.” He scratches the back of his head. “And the reason why is…”

“Because of my rut.”

You blink uncomprehendingly.

“Uh, like a creative rut?”

Tartaglia’s hand falls. He points at his cock, still hard in your grasp.

“Like a… a horny rut, comrade,” he says drily.

“...Oh.”

“I get an insatiable urge to fuck. Nothing else can make up for it. My hand, your hand, this pillow…”

“Fighting doesn’t help?” you ask, remembering his earlier words.

He chuckles lowly, expression grim. “Fighting, for once, doesn’t help.”

You hum, nodding thoughtfully. A thought occurs to you at the feel of your hand covered in his seed, and you release his cock. Maintaining eye contact with him, you bring your hand to your mouth, before licking his spend on your finger. Tartaglia inhales deeply, his gaze darkening as it hones in on your tongue disappearing back into your mouth.

“What can I do to help?” you ask, looking up at him from your lashes. Knowing full well the answer.

“I need to…” His brows furrow, hesitating on his next words. “I need to breed something, comrade.”

“Something? Or someone?”

Tartaglia arches a brow. “Come now. Don’t be silly, comrade. There’s a chance–a real chance-that I might hurt you this time,” he says, flexing a clawed hand.

He looks away, rubs a hand over his mouth.  “I just–ngh. When it comes to you, I can’t promise I’ll be able to hold back.”

“Then don’t. I’m not made of glass, you know. I’m not going to break every time you reveal some weird secret of yours. Or try to… put some primal, wolfy claim on me.”

He blinks slowly.

“Primal, wolfy claim, huh,” he repeats. A roguish grin stretches across his face, highlighting his canines.

Then before you know it, he’s grasped you by the waist, and thrown you onto the bed. You have barely a chance to catch your breath before Tartaglia’s form looms over you, caging you to the bed.

“And what if I were to claim you, comrade, hm? What then?” he asks, all toothy-smiled. He grasps your hand, brings it up to his lips. A sharp canine pokes through his lip, nicking your wrist. You flinch. Tartaglia makes sure your eyes are on him as his tongue traces over the cut, lapping up the drops of blood.

“Soulmates and bonds for life are a thing of fiction,” he says once he’s finished. “Real wolves though…” He licks his lips, his voice dropping an octave. “We see something we like, we stake our claim.”

“It’s… it’s like peeing on me,” you mutter despondently, glancing away. Trying in vain to ignore how the action had your heart racing, heat collecting between your thighs.

He laughs, a full-chested, booming sound. Clearly seeing through your act. “Oh, no no. Nothing at all like that. It’s more like claiming you fully. Spirit, mind…”

“And body,” he says, flipping you onto your stomach. You yelp. Tartaglia positions his cock at your back entrance.

“Woah woah… we’re not even gonna take off my clothes here?”

He snorts, before yanking at your pants. The buttons go flying, and you squeak. He pulls it down to your knees, not even completely off. Too impatient to be inside you. Then his claws rip through your second pair of panties for the day.

His cock nudges the cleft of your ass cheeks.

“Ready?” he asks. You nod.

His teeth graze your shoulder, and you flinch. You didn’t think he meant ready for the mark. He bites down and you steel yourself. Only to relax. It feels like nothing more than a regular hickey.

“Wha–”

“Ha! Jokes on you. That’s for earlier.”

“What the hell, Childe–”

He enters you in one thrust. The stretch is instant, an intense burn. Tartaglia is big, he always has been. You haven’t been prepped nearly enough. Your nails dig into the bedsheets, threatening to rip the material. His precome helps ease the burn a tad, but you’re still wincing, shifting to adjust to his intrusion.

Tartaglia on the other hand lets out a broken moan. He throbs inside you, his hands falling to either side of your head to brace himself. His claws do in fact dig into the material of your sheets, tearing holes into it.  

“Say when,” he grits out.

You call out his name, and it’s like something snaps inside him. He drags his cock out of you, and you sigh in momentary relief. But then he’s slamming back into you, and you gasp, the breath knocked out of you. Then he’s pummeling into you. Each rough thrust has his balls smacking against the curve of your ass, his hips digging deeper into yours, as if to carve out a space inside you, suited just for his cock. He props himself up on one hand, the other grasping the curve of your hip, anchoring himself to thrust even deeper.

It’s not making love. It’s a claiming.

Tartaglia is loud, more vocal than he’s ever been. He’s gasping and grunting, moaning brokenly about how fucking good you feel, so tight, so warm, so wet, the perfect sleeve for his cock. His hips snapsnapsnapping against yours.

You feel like little more than his cock sleeve, truthfully. A means for him to get off. Yet the thought has you arching your back for him more, clenching around him. You wanna be his personal sex toy, waiting pretty and supple at home for him.

You reach for his free hand digging into the sheets, untangling his hand. Then you bring it to your stomach, where he gets the hint, clutching possessively.

“You want a full litter of my pups?” he grunts. “I’ll give it to you. I’ll give it all to you. Want you nice and swollen for me, want you—ngh—all round and plump for me.”

You mewl, and Tartaglia’s hand curls around your abdomen, his thrusts increasing in their power. He slams into you, deep enough that you’re sure the sheer force of his hips will leave bruises on your ass, and you moan.

“Gonna fill you up over and over again, right? That’s what you want?”

His hand on your hip squeezes appreciatively, as if imagining his own fantasy come to fruition. Your belly, full with his child. Your hips, filled out.

“You’ll be waiting at home for me.” He chuckles. “With all our kids.”

“Oh, I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you,” he says, noticing your trembling.

“You said you wanted a treat, right?” His breathing is harsher now, his breath coming in pants. He lifts you onto his lap, dropping you onto his cock.  “Then take—this,”  he says, thrusting up into you. His cum pours into you, and you gasp at the feel. Strangely hot, much warmer than it typically is.

He’s still inside you, rutting against you, still not completely soft.

You give him an incredulous look. “You’re not done?”

He makes a sound in the back of his throat, his teeth nipping at the nape of your neck.

Tartaglia grinds his hip against yours purposefully. His cock feels even bigger now, like this. Almost as if it’s engorged. With a start you realizing that isn’this balls slapping against you, but something else. Something–

“Is that–” Your eyes widen. “Is that a knot?”

“Mmf, yes.”

Anxiety creeps into you. “N-No way.” He was already gifted down there. Add in the thick bulbous knot you felt brushing against your asshole? Archons above.

“You better at least use lube, Childe!”

“Now why would I do that, comrade? When I—ngh, have this instead?” he says. His hand steadies your hip as he begins fucking into you again. His cum makes a thick slapping sound every time he thrusts into you, some of it even sloshing out.

“W-Wait–”

He surges forward, burying his cock inside you, knot and all. You gasp, grasping onto his forearms. The stretch is even more intense. You feel as if you might burst apart at the seams. Tartaglia at least is content to grind against you, his breathy moans a clear sign of his enjoyment.  It’s too much though. You need some space, to not feel so hopelessly full. You gasp as you try to move away and find yourself stuck. His knot fully inflated, it catches onto your walls.

He groans. “Mm, not a wise choice, babe”

“You–you jerk. Did I say you could knot me?”

“Come now, comrade,” he laughs, starting up his thrusts again. You squirm as you feel the movement sloshing his  cum around inside you. “I thought you said you wanted it? A litter of my pups. A family of twelve, me and you.”

The idea has you shivering. The image of Tartaglia cradling your swollen belly, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, filling you over and over again. You do want it. You want to be nothing more than his.

He’s pumping his hips now, the wet squelch of your combined fluids a symphony to his lewd words. “Gonna fill you up over and over again. Heh. Use you as my own breeding grounds. I bet you’d like that. I’ll have to leave for Fatui missions,” he says, his pause punctuated by his hips digging into yours cruelly. You mewl out his name, and he smirks, digging his teeth into your shoulder as warning. “But you know I’d rather be buried inside you.”

You yelp in pain and he soothes the bite with his tongue. His gaze is trained on the stringy residue of your lovemaking sticking to his thighs.

“Every time you empty out, I  gotta keep filling you back up over and over again.”

He positions you forwards, onto your hands and knees, as he mounts you from behind. He gasps at the new angle, one leg propped up as he jackhammers into you. One hand on your breast, the other clutching the give of your stomach.

“Ngh, you’d really be perfect to carry my kids. So soft, so round. I’ll give you a nice litter of pups to take care of.”

“You and your damn talk about kids…” you gasp out, tightening around him.

“Ngh… c-cumming,” he says. And then he bites down on you, his canines digging into you. Hard. You feel the sting of pain. Blood pools down your shoulder.

“Ouch!”

“S-Sowwy,” he says, teeth muffled against you. “Hab to make sure it’s deep enouph.”

You’re not sure what to focus on more–the pain of the bite, soothed mildly by his tongue, or the feel of his cum oozing out between you two. The latter eventually wins out. You grimace, smacking him.  

“If I get knocked up after this, you’re paying for all the child support.”

He releases your shoulder, laughs. “You know I would!”

“Besides,” he says, wrapping his arms around you. Resting his forehead against yours and sending you a a smile. “We’ll be together forever. And can you imagine a worse fate?”

[ruenii]

'transmigrator' tim drake who's gotten used to suddenly waking up in an alternate dimension similar to his but its just AO3 batman fics he keeps on getting transported to, so now he tries to figure out the plot before looking at the tags as a distraction while trying to find his way back to his original dimension.

"Oh another coffee shop AU? Okay...i wonder what pairing this is-- anddd its superbat, okay, cool."

"Hold the fuck on, why is green lantern making out with batman, WAIT WHY ARE THEY IN GOTHAM ACADEMY—"

"Another angsty fic of me? Okay, FINE, I'll get fucking therapy jfc, and maybe I'll get my life back together no need to tell me twice.

"This is unfair, god hates me, why the hell is Damian taller than me when he's 16. HE'S LITERALLY 16."

"Damnnn, you really just did that Bruce? CPS is gonna have a field day with this."

"Awww this is actually pretty cute, I would never do that though, god that was fucking embarassing, you're embarassing."

Now when he comes back to his original universe he just has all this weird knowledge and habits that he has after being in all those universes, and some of them he doesnt even notice like:

He sleeps literally anywhere in the Manor, kissing Kon on the cheek, holding Duke's hand randomly, being cuddly with Bart and Cassie, patting Jason in the back, ruffling Damians head or even hugging Dick first. And he sometimes just hugs Bruce just because, maybe Bruce is gonna be shocked for the first few times then he gets used to it.

And everyone in the batfam and his friends gets used to Tim being subtly open to affection and reciprocates it back to him, while also being used to him referencing some weird pop culture memes and inside jokes they don't get except for him.

TLDR: Tim gets character development by reading fanfiction.

[ripplestitchskein]

Sorry for yet another, “Listen guys, it could be so much worse, my fandom related trauma has made me appreciate scraps. My personal bar is literally on the floor” posts but I am genuinely happy with the MHA ending. I get why people are not though. Audiences want finality. They want commitment. They want closure and resolution.

But considering the genre of MHA, the common tropes of the medium, the cultural and capitalistic concerns at play… MHA did a lot. Shonen Jump was never going to go for a canonically queer ship in their biggest property my guys, they just weren’t. So bearing that in mind, that it was never going to be explicit, your alternatives are ambiguity, punishment by the narrative via permanent character death, or canon surprise heterosexuality ala Naruto.

I’m gonna take ambiguous “fic can make this better” endings over permanent character death or like a Deathly Hallows epilogue any day. I’m certainly going to take it over “Yeah they were hella gay the whole time but here is the wife they barely had any interaction with and their 2.5 children that prove they fucked at least once.” Like yeah obviously explicit canon scenes are always gonna be better and more satisfying but the absence of them in any one direction, the ambiguity that is left to individual interpretation, especially in this genre of manga, is honestly a huge win for me personally. That HK went out of his way to not canonize Izuku/Ochako and to highlight Bakugou’s contribution especially and have him be the hand that brings Deku back to being a hero speaks very loudly. HK is not unaware of the popularity of the ship and a creator who has thier hands tied by thier distributor making the decision to not explicitly kill it IS a win. He could have very easily done the “I assure you this fruity little gremlin is straight. Look at his girlfriend! She has huge tits! Yes he sure does love women! Yessiree, ignore all the homoerotic subtext and the like yearning and weird focus on hands, and like being willing to literally die for his also very straight counterpart.”

The move when a content distributor wants to squash a ship is doubling down not “What if we left it kinda vague but heavily implied it?”

And it is such a good ambiguity. Enough detail to world build but not to preclude headcanons. And the fic possibilities jfc.

Like, the angst potential of Izuku thinking he got left behind because Bakugou and everyone else was working to make his dreams a reality will launch a thousand fics. Bakugou working tirelessly to make that dream a reality? Keeping himself away from Izuku to raise himself in the ranks and financially to buy this dream, no distractions but missing his partner. You can feast for years on an 8 year jump with patchy communication. and what comes after, the awkward relearning each other and catching up, the will they won’t they now that they are working together again. Omg.

I’m just saying the “And everyone did a cool thing related to their character arcs but the specifics of their interpersonal relationships is up to you to fill in, The End” finale is loads better than the alternatives imo and really suited the story overall.

[storiesofsvu]

CM 17.3

Alright!! 17e3 here we go!!

(I meant to rewatch the first 2 eps before this but didn’t get around to it, so a more in-depth review/more film student analysis is still to come.)

Enjoy this chaos with no context for now! (a lot of it likely isn’t gonna be fully fleshed out cause I have a full thought/reply and try my hardest to type it all out super fast before the show moves on but I have to stop to pay attention OR something else comes up and im just SCRAMBLING)

Absolutely hate there’s no subtitles right away for this but I mean.. I could wait a couple of days til its on Disney I just have no patience.

GOD why is it so fucking dark.

Thank you Emily for not letting luke spill the beans, like, kinda like Rebecca as a person, but can’t trust her as long as her job goes

Okay, em is in the right here, both in the sense of keeping it quiet originally but also making luke keep hush. Cause im sorry but she’s right. It would’ve 1000% drove the team to the brink and split them apart AND made them spiral so deep about what was on the site/other people seeing them/trying to cleanse the web of them (which obvi is impossible). Esp jj of all people? Like I’m not really sure *what* is on there, but jj is the one with KIDS, a full family, she’s still in contact with her parents (at least the mom?) she’s probably likely known in the circle of the boys friends parents? Like that’s SO much damage control to stress over??

Im so fucking excited for prentiss’ wacko neighbour to come back loool

LOOOOLL em’s “oh.. oh no…” reaction. I love this.

Did pen just say “tik tack” instead of tik tok? or was I not listening properly lol

“what are you gonna do?” “put out fires” that is LITERALLY a boss’ job. This being said as a boss.

“I don’t want to say no to your face…” SAME girl… same

GOD Emily is so fucking beautiful

This back and fourth with Garcia and her opinions on tyler is SO annoying. At first she hates him and doesn’t want to even look at him, then they’re flirting, then they’re fucking. Then she’s all twitterpated and wrapped around his finger. Then she AGAIN wants nothing to do with him?? Even though in the last ep she was all high school girlie about working with an “ex”?? I GET that the writers/showrunners are piling the comic relief onto her/the situation but come ON.

“I didn’t call you” “your landlord did” BRUH. COME ON. I don’t care how crazy things are, you ALWAYS double check that! I once saw a dude backing into my driveway with a ladder and immediately went outside to be all “uh..hello?” he immediately pulled out his phone, named my landlord, pointed out what he was there for (damage to the siding of the house, I hadn’t noticed cause I hadn’t left the house and live in the basement) AND offered to call my landlord. ALWAYS BE SUSPICIOUS.

WHY THE FUCK ARE JJ AND LUKE PAIRED UP!!!!????? Jj’s a profiler, she’s obvi gonna be able to get it outta luke, or press him for details, or whatever. If he’s supposed to keep shit quiet why tf are they off together. (or were they specifically asked to be together by voit? Cause that’s just him playing into his bullshit again)

“Emily practising deception isn’t a lie. It’s good leadership” THANK YOU.

Also...to feed all the jemily shippers out there… if this was a fic written by me.. it would be bundled into the AI shit, but there would be pics of Emily and jj hooking up that were very easily proven to be legit and the entire situation would out them and that’s what the actual issue was/is with the site…

I understand jj is outside with Sydney and luke’s job is to keep the girls distracted inside but of COURSE its himbo’s first reaction to pull out the soccer ball INSIDE.

Okay is that just some weird direction/camera angles or are we eluding to the older sister being a cutter?

Emily’s reactions to brian were perfection.

JFC NO! who’s out there stalking them? Uggghh (though I will say that the moment something clinked in the parking garage I said to myself “pls don’t let her get kidnapped in ep 3…”

I KNEW IT WAS CARBON MONOXIDE!! So smrt

Why does it feel like tyler knows more about gold star than the bau does?

Oooo but he cloned the phone! Good boy!!

Penelope: in charge of tracking down tyler

Tyler: texts Penelope “I need to see you”

Penelope: “NO!” doesn’t reply….

Ah yes.. I was right about the cutting… oof. Uugggh talk about heartbreaking..

LOOOOL tara teasing rossi! “I think I pulled… everything…” HHAH

Im not gonna lie, I absolutely HATE that they went down this AI *porn* route, as if these fucking poor characters haven’t been through enough, and like, again as I said, JJ… she’s got the most damage control to do no matter what, and poor girl hasn’t dealt with more than half her trauma so far…

“but I didn’t exactly get it legally, so you know what rebecca’s gonna say” THANK YOU. But also, like fuck that. cause this show has ALWAYS been above the law in that sense. I can’t remember if I said it in last week’s summary or if it was another random post, but CM vs like, SVU is WILD because we NEVER see things past the cuffs being put on/the unsub getting killed/killing themselves. We never go to court, we never see the legal side of it BECAUSE 99% of them would be not guilty due to mental…defect? LOL I know that’s not the right word/phrase but you know what I mean. CM is about the mind of the criminal and chasing them down and finding out the trigger and stressor and figuring out the pattern, not seeing things through to court and prison.

and while I love the addition of her character (Rebecca), it’s making other characters act in ways they never have before/never would simply because now the show is implicating the legal side of things. again, love having Rebecca and that boundary in line for the team but it is messing with the normal dynamics we are used to. Like..as IF Penelope would have any issue using an illegally cloned phone in the past. She was all “don’t ask questions” “well yes I *could* get access to that record, but it is technically sealed” and hotch would be all “I didn’t hear anything…”

LOL Emily with a full bottle of wine at her desk. Love her. god she’s SO annoyed with brian and I love it.

SEE this is why luke never should have said anything. Cause it doesn’t matter how hard you try not to look, you’re never going to be able to resist being able to look it up, no matter how bad it is, how fake and evil and ugly it is, you’re still gonna want to know and jj didn’t need to see that/know about it. How is she supposed to go home and act ok now??

“okay they’re here… somehow” DUDE YOU KNOW BETTER EM! Doesn’t matter that youre in an fbi parking garage, no cop gets there that fast!!

Also..that red coat is TRENCH COAT. YEESSS

Oh FUCK YOU BRIAN

“FUCKING BRIAN!” thankkkkk you em

THAT’S HOW IT ENDS SEERIOUSLY? Ffs.

Also…in all seriousness. Em was in HER office at the BAU, somewhere you (I assume) need clearance to get on property, much less in the building or into the parking, so WHY/HOW the FUCK were both brian, the guys who beat him up and whoever took the pictures get clearance?? SHOULDN’T QUANTICO HAVE SOME PRETTY FUCKING HIGH SECURITY LEVELS???

[miasmaghoul]

Mountain fucking dewdrop so hard that, dewdrop accidentally pee's when he's climaxing and mountain comforts him/cleans him up?

Using this prompt to serve a dual purpose!

Mushy May - Day 9

Prompt: Aftercare

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Mountain/water!Dew Contains: size difference, rough sex, accidental wetting, embarrassment, lots of comfort and reassurance Word Count: ~3.3k (jfc) PISSBOYS UNITE!

Dew rarely feels as overwhelmed as he does beneath Mountain.

Every thrust forces the air from his lungs, and even his gills aren’t enough to help him catch his breath. He clings to Mountain for dear life, shaky legs wrapped around his waist and claws dug into his broad shoulders. Mountain has his face buried in the juncture of Dew’s neck and shoulder, spewing a stream of nonsense into sweat-slick skin. Dew knows he's not much better off - the stone walls of Mountain's bedchamber echo his helpless yips, and he's entirely too far beyond being able to quash them. 

Mountain’s as lost in it as he is, one hand fisted in Dew’s hair and the other at his lower back, holding his hips up off the mattress. Dew swears he can feel Mountain in his throat like this, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. Mountain engulfs him, overpowers him, makes him feel weak and small in a way no one else does. Fills him, stretches him, hits places the little ghoul didn’t even know he had. Dew always feels it for days afterwards, and he doesn’t mind in the slightest.

Today, though, something is different. It’s subtle, but the longer Mountain fucks into his little body the more obvious it becomes. An vaguely familiar pressure accompanying every excruciatingly pleasurable drag over his prostate. Dew can’t place it, but as his cock kicks and leaks between their bodies he finds he doesn’t much care. It’s good, whatever it is. A deep, insistent throb in his pelvis that has his eyes rolling back in his head and his toes curling. 

The room is filled with the wet, filthy sound of Mountain using him, and it does nothing to stave off the release rapidly barrelling down Dew’s spine. That odd pressure isn’t helping, but something about it has a sense of unease prickling at the back of his mind. It still isn’t enough to distract, though - Dew can’t focus long enough to get out anything besides a breathless cry of fuck, fuck, fuck, but clearly Mountain understands. The other ghoul lets out a deep groan, the sound rattling through Dew’s chest as Mountain nips at the sensitive spot between his gills and his ear.

“Getting close, tadpole?” Dew makes a gurgling sound, struggling to keep his legs around the other ghoul’s waist. He’s shaking head to toe now, every nerve buzzing, and Mountain lets out a tight moan when a fresh wave of slick leaks around his cock. “Yeah you are,” he breathes, licking a slow stripe along the little ghoul’s jaw. He meets Dew’s unfocused gaze with blazing emerald eyes, tendrils of auburn hair stuck to his forehead. “You’re going to make a mess for me, aren’t you?”

Dew moans low and broken when Mountain slams into him, knocking the last bit of his brain loose. The other ghoul catches him in a searing kiss, all tongue and fang, and the way his thrusts start going jerky tells Dew that he’s almost at his limit too.

“Let go,” Mountain pants into his mouth, sucking Dew’s lower lip for good measure. “Let me up so I can make you.”

The words are little more than a courtesy and they both know it. Mountain could do anything he wanted with the little body trapped beneath him and Dew couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Still, though, he complies. Lets his limbs fall useless to the mattress, his chest heaving as Mountain pushes himself upright. He towers over the Dew like this, standing between his quivering thighs at the edge of the bed, and the reminder of Mountain’s size is enough to have Dew throbbing.

Mountain wastes no time, gripping Dew’s bony hips hard enough to leave a purple stain of his fingerprints behind. He lifts the little ghoul off the mattress and starts a merciless rhythm of deep, pounding strokes. Not fast, but so fucking hard they make Dew’s brain bounce around in his skull. The angle is incredible, the pace maddening, and within a handful of thrusts Dew is practically insensate.

“Mount,” he gasps, drool leaking from the corner of his kiss-bruised lips, “Mount, please, fuck - need…I need - make it, make me, fuck, please-”

Dew raises a trembling hand to reach for his poor neglected cock, so hard it’s long since gone dusky and achy. Mountain bats his hand away before he can get there and Dew whimpers, trying his best to blink the haze from his glassy eyes. His vision clears just in time to see Mountain shift his grip, supporting his slight body with one hand and wrapping the other around his stiff little dick. It covers him completely, and Dew is powerless to stop the choked moan that slithers past his lips.

Mountain starts tugging, slow and methodical, and Dew feels himself starting to unravel. He can’t hold his head up, dropping back onto the mattress and mindlessly toying with a nipple ring. He’s out of his mind, every devastatingly perfect thrust against his prostate forces another blurt of pre from his swollen tip. That odd pressure makes itself known again too, only now it doesn’t fade. Dew can’t figure out why it sets his teeth on edge, but the only reason he hasn’t fallen apart at the seams already is the jingle of warning bells in the back of his useless head.

“You’re so wet,” Mountain huffs then, the slick sound of his hand nearly drowning out the words. “Always so fucking wet.” 

Dew moans out a mindless uh-huh; it’s only going to get worse and they both know it. There are no more words spoken, Dew reduced to reedy, punched-out cries and Mountain to little more than low growls and panting. It’s instinctual, animalistic. Brutal in the best way. Intense and viscerally satisfying. Mountain cants his hips just so, thumbs over the head, and the coil of heat in Dew’s belly goes taut. His balls draw up, his stomach clenches, and when that strange pressure floods his pelvis he’s hit with a wave of icy realization.

“Oh no,” he gasps, so very breathless, “no, oh no, no, no no no-”

Dew cums hard, arching off the mattress with a strained shout. It comes in waves, spurt after spurt coating Mountain’s hand and his own stomach. The other ghoul snarls, fucking into him faster, harder, chasing his own release, and Dew tries so hard to control himself.

But it’s too late. He can’t stop it. .  

Mountain’s hips stutter when the stream starts, and the sound Dew makes when he feels his piss splash against his belly is one of utter humiliation. He hides behind his hands, tries to curl his boneless body into itself, but he’s stuck. Dew is barely aware of Mountain’s strangled grunt, of the way his body bows, the way his hands shake and hold him tight.

He grasps his control back as soon as Mountain goes still, red hot from head to toe and teary eyed as he staunches the stream. He doesn’t even feel like he just came, the burn of embarrassment too overwhelming for him to process anything else. Mountain says something, but Dew doesn’t hear it over the rush of blood in his ears. 

The second Mountain’s hand moves from his still twitching dick Dew scrambles away, giving an unconscious yelp when Mountain’s not yet soft cock slips from the oversensitive clutch of his body. He stumbles to the bathroom and slams the door shut behind him, dizzy and filthy and so fucking ashamed he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

The little ghoul leans against the cool tile wall with a tight sigh, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. His whole body feels heavy, worn, the way it always does when Mountain is done with him. It cries out for contact, for the tight circle of the other ghoul’s strong arms. For the grounding rumble of his purr and the soothing scent of fresh soil and evergreen. He craves it.

Instead, he’s alone in a bathroom, surrounded by nothing but silence and the smell of sex and the way he embarrassed himself. Dew tells himself he won’t cry - it was an accident, after all - but there’s a telltale tightness in his chest that suggests he won’t have any control over that either.  

What the fuck is he supposed to do? It’s not like he can stay here forever, it’s Mountain’s bathroom. Eventually he’ll have to leave. Have to see the other ghoul and say…what is he supposed to say to Mountain? Sorry? That doesn’t seem like the right thing to say when someone fucks you so hard you piss yourself. It’s not nearly apologetic enough. Hell, Mountain will probably come stomping in any minute to throttle him. To sneer at him and call him disgusting. He deserves it, but the thought alone is still enough to give him the hiccups. He sinks to the floor and clutches his knees to his chest, shivering and sniffling, and awaits the inevitable.

What he gets, though,

“Dew?” Mountain’s voice filters through the thick oaken door, low and calm. “Dew, are you alright?”

Dew stares at the door wide-eyed, chest tight. Why doesn’t Mountain sound angry? Why wasn’t he storming in? Surely he’s upset, why wouldn’t he be? Dew swallows hard, but when he tries to talk he can’t find his voice. He whimpers instead, tucking his chin to his chest. Fuck, he’s pathetic. It’s a few minutes before Mountain speaks again.

“Droplet, please say something. Please.”

Dew’s ear twitches at the pet name, and at the other ghoul’s tone. Mountain doesn’t sound upset. He sounds…concerned. Worried. Dew peeks over his knees at the door, trying to calm the slam of his heart against his ribs. He clears his throat, swallowing down just enough of the bile in his throat to croak out a response.

“‘m sorry,” he manages, throaty and thick. Probably too quiet to be heard. There’s a soft sigh from the other side of the door.

“Dew…is it alright if I come in?” 

He wants to say no. Wants to tell Mountain that he’d rather never be seen again, thank you very much. Wants to, but can’t. Can’t because he’s lacking quite literally all of his usual vitriol, forced into timidity by his own stupid body. Can’t because, if he’s honest, he wants to see Mountain too. Wants to feel his hands, his arms, his chest. Wants that comfort. Needs it.

Dew doesn’t know when the tears started, but now he can’t stop them. A sob bubbles its way out of his chest, and before he can so much as blink the door flies open and Mountain is kneeling before him, hands raised, worry writ large on his handsome face.

Something in Dew’s chest cracks, and before he can stop himself he’s launching himself into the other ghoul’s arms. Mountain doesn’t so much as hesitate, wrapping Dew up tight in a cocoon of familiar limbs. He buries his face in Mountain’s neck on instinct, hunting through the musk of sweat and sex for the scent of solid earth.

Mountain holds him through the tears, through the sobs. Doesn’t shush him or prod at him. Simply lets Dew cry it all out against his shoulder, stroking his hair and running his knuckles down his spine. It’s only a few minutes before his tears dry up and Dew is left simply sniffling, idly fiddling with Mountain’s chest hair. The other ghoul is the one to break the silence.

“Are you back with me, tadpole?”

Dew nods, a bit sluggish, but feeling more clear headed than he had a few minutes ago. He huffs against Mountain’s throat, shifting, and the movement serves to remind him that he’s still covered in…everything. His own messes coating his stomach and Mountain’s leaking down his thighs. His face heats again and Dew feebly tries to shove himself away, but Mountain won’t let him.

“‘m gross,” he murmurs, voice strained. “C’mon, lemme up.”

“No,” Mountain says simply, holding the little ghoul to his chest. “Not until I know you’re alright.”

It would be easy to lie. To say he was fine and wrestle his way out of the other ghoul’s arms. His ass may be sore, but his arms and legs don’t feel quite so much like jelly anymore. It would be easy.

“No,” he admits, tucking his chin to his chest, “I’m sorry, Mount, I didn’t -”

“It’s alright, Dew,” Mountain coos, rubbing his shin. “I promise it’s alright.” Dew pulls back just enough to scowl up at him.

“What do you mean, ‘it’s alright’?” Dew snaps, but it carries no malice. He’s so tired all of a sudden. “I fuckin’...I pissed on your damn hand, how is that alright?”

Mountain answers with a small smile, leaning down to give Dew an affectionate peck on the forehead. He knocks their horns together for good measure, and Dew will never admit how much that tiny gesture comforts him.

“I mean it’s alright,” he says with a shrug, “it’s not a big deal.” Dew stares at him like he’s grown a second head and Mountain huffs out a soft laugh. “We can talk about it later, okay?”

“But-”

“Later, droplet,” Mountain repeats, tucking mussed silver hair behind Dew’s pink-tipped ear. “For now, will you let me help you get cleaned up? You’re shivering, you must be frozen.”

Dew blinks. He hadn’t noticed, but now that he’s thinking about something besides his own crippling embarrassment - yeah, he’s definitely cold. Cold and sore and tired.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “yeah, okay.” 

Mountain nods and they both fall silent again. He helps Dew to his feet, and the little ghoul really has to fight the urge to hide himself. Mountain busies himself getting the shower ready, testing the water and gathering the bottles of shampoo and conditioner he keeps in his cupboard especially for Dew. He also tosses a small pouch into the bottom of the stall and the room rapidly fills with the scent of eucalyptus and sage. Dew groans as heady steam fills his lungs, flaring his gills and letting the warmth wash over him.

Mountain guides him into the shower with a gentle hand on his lower back, and Dew takes a moment to bask in the perfectly temperate spray. They fall into a familiar routine; Mountain washes his hair, always so thorough in the way he massages Dew’s scalp. In the way he combs through the conditioner. In the way he scrubs Dew’s back with peppermint-scented soap, applied with a home-grown loofah.

What’s different, though, is the way Mountain talks. This is usually something they do in silence, but today Mountain has chosen to walk through everything he does. Everywhere he touches, asking Dew each time ‘can I’ or ‘is this okay’ or ‘do you want me to stop’. Any other day Dew would find such frequent check-ins irritating. Obnoxious and unnecessary. Today, though, he’s nothing but appreciative. 

Mountain works slowly and methodically, sinking to his knees once Dew’s back is finished to take care of the mess on his thighs. He’s so delicate, so gentle, washing away more and more of Dew’s tension with each pass of the sponge. He hisses a bit when Mountain swipes over his abused hole, all pink and puffy, but it’s nothing he can’t handle.

“Alright,” Mountain murmurs, caressing Dew’s waist and pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades, “are you ready to turn around?”

Dew hesitates. He doesn’t mean to, but he does. There’s not really anything left to see, the water has rinsed away most of the mess coating his belly, but he suddenly feels weirdly exposed. 

“You don’t have to, it’s alright,” Mountain soothes, still holding his waist. “Would you rather do it yourself? Or I can leave, if it’s easier-”

“No!” Dew grabs at Mountain’s hand, his stomach flipping. “U-um,” he clears his throat, blaming his flushed cheeks on the warm water, “I mean…fuck, I dunno what I mean. But please don’t leave.” The last few words are barely a whisper, ones Dew almost feels guilty for saying, but the sigh of obvious relief Mountain looses helps to assuage the feeling.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, “not if you don’t want me to.”

They stay like that for a handful of moments before Dew steadies himself with a deep breath. He turns slowly, carefully, appreciative of the way Mountain doesn’t so much as move until he exhales. He holds up the loofah in silent offer, and Dew shakes his head.

“‘s better when you do it,” he mumbles. Mountain nods and gets back to work without question

He scrubs Dew’s chest and arms with practiced motions, luxurious swirls of that rough sponge. He pauses to draw an inverted triangle in the suds between Dew’s nipples, and Dew can’t help the little giggle it drags out of him. Mountain smiles up at him and Dew allows himself to return it. It falters when Mountain asks his next question.

“Is it alright if I wash you here?”

Dew knows what he means, but Mountain gestures anyway. At his stomach and limp little dick, hanging shy between his skinny thighs. Dew huffs out a harsh exhale.

“Yeah,” he breathes, giving a shallow nod. “Yeah, it’s alright.” Mountain’s already kind smile turns impossibly fond. 

“Thank you,” the other ghoul says, and Dew barks out a short laugh.

“You’re washing my dick after I pissed on you, and you’re the one thanking me?”

“I’m not thanking you for that, tadpole,” Mountain replies, scrubbing over his stomach. “I’m thanking you for trusting me to help.”

Dew…doesn’t know what to say to that. Is that what this is? Trust? It’s not the first word that would’ve come to mind - that would be vulnerability. But vulnerability and trust come hand in hand, he supposes. Hard to have one without the other. To be vulnerable with someone is to trust them, and Mountain?

Yeah, he trusts Mountain.

“I feel fuckin’ ridiculous,” Dew finally admits with a groan, shoulders sagging. He scrubs at his face with both hands, gills fluttering. 

“You shouldn’t.” Mountain finishes his stomach and moves on to his thighs. Dew peers down at him from between two fingers.

“What kind of fuckin’ water ghoul pisses himself, Mount?” Mountain stills, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You didn’t do it on purpose, Dew,” he says, easy as anything. “It wasn’t something you could control.”

“I know, but -” 

Dew cuts himself off with a surprised chirp when Mountain finally palms him with a soapy hand. There’s nothing lascivious in his touch, just simple care. It’s strangely comforting, and Dew finds himself sighing when Mountain pulls back.

“There we go,” he says, pushing himself upright with a grunt. Dew lets himself be turned, guided back under the water. Lets Mountain rinse the bubbles from his skin and watches them swirl down the drain. “All set.”

Mountain steps away, probably just to set down the loofah, but any distance is too far right now. Dew spins on his heel and rushes forward, flinging his arms around Mountain’s waist and burying his face in his chest. Mountain doesn’t miss a beat, wrapping the little ghoul in a tight embrace and kicking up the purr Dew loves so much. 

“Thank you,” Dew mumbles, pressing a kiss to Mountain’s wet skin, “and I’m sorry.”

“If you apologize one more time I’m going to ask who you are and what you’ve done with my Dewdrop.”

Dew pulls back to glare at him only to have Mountain flash that beatific smile, all chipped fangs and sparkling eyes. Maybe it’s the adrenaline wearing off, maybe it’s his body finally acknowledging his bone-melting orgasm, but Dew can’t help himself from returning it. He pushes himself up onto his tiptoes and presses a kiss to Mountain’s chin.

“Can we go to bed now?” Mountain drops a kiss of his own between his horns.

“Soon,” he promises. “Do you want to go get dressed while I wash up?” Dew shakes his head, nuzzling back between Mountain’s pecs. 

“I’m comfy here,” he murmurs, and Mountain laughs.

“Whatever you want, droplet.”

[suzukiblu]

Think Pink just keeps givin me thoughts about Kon in pet play gear (collar, ears, dildo gag mask, tail plug) and I can't decide so I posit the question to you:

What's hotter?

Tim going the extra mile to get custom made gear made of super-grade materials so Kon can just let go and experience it without worrying about breaking anything

or

them using normal, human-grade material so Kon has to stay consciously aware of the stuff inside him so he doesn't accidentally 'destroy his toys like a bad boy'

I mean I consider both options to have their pros and also-pros, really, like I could see a lot of things to find hot in both of those, hahaha. And I am sure Tim would HAVE both types on hand if they were doing play like that, if only for contingency plan purposes. Or like, maybe he made the custom super-grade set and Bernard was like "I literally just walked to the sex shop on the corner and got all that for less than a hundredth of the price and WAY less chance of Batman ever finding out it exists and what we're doing in the bedroom this weekend, Tim. Tim. Tim, ilu but jfc why are you like this".

Though the option where Kon has to "behave" more carefully/constantly by not destroying his toys seems more in-line with the concept of being a good boy anyway, sooooo . . .

And also if Kon's worrying about not breaking the toys, Tim and Bernard get to distract him from feeling like he needs to be performing as much or doing anything for THEM, which seems like a very Tim-style kind of plan to me?

So yeah the super-grade gear just gets trotted out for when Tim has a REALLY long scene in mind, I bet, and otherwise it's the standard set that Bernard picked up downtown and got a pink heart-shaped tag for the collar of, hahaha.

[sugar-omi]

tags : NSFW, reader has a cunt, yall are 19-20, cove is prbly a bit ooc but that's what time skip is for- new confidence!!!, dom cove is so sexy jfc

synopsis : you get an anklet with coves name on it

the first time cove sees it is when you're laying on the couch together and when you sit down on the couch again, you prop your legs on his lap.

cove looks down, to take a look at your choice of jewelry and there, all shiny and gold with a pretty blue gem at the end, is his name on the little gold plate...

you're so deep into the movie you don't notice at first but cove inhales sharply as he looks at the plate.

you didn't tell him you were getting it, that's why you set up this whole situation for him to see it, you were nervous and the movie distracted you.

until cove's grip on your ankle tightened and suddenly you were once again aware of the anklet and cove.

"..y/n, wha-" cove swallows, face flushing and body heating up. "what's this?"

your heart is beating wildly, but seeing how cove is affected, you can't not tease him. "do you like it?"

you smirk, noticing cove's gaze darkening with lust. "i thought you'd like it, plus it kinda marks me as yours, don't ya think?"

cove exhales shakily, hiding his face in his hands.

it's so simple. innocent when you're looking at it from the outside, in.. but you know how sexy cove thinks they are and you tease him every time with a sly joke or by wearing an anklet for a date.

but this is so different from other times.

cove isn't possessive or a jealous type, and maybe its because baxter flirted with you at the beginning of sumer, but something about his name on your anklet makes something primal burn in his core...

cove could be brave and assertive when he wanted to be; and now was one of those times.

he had you in his lap, fingers buried in the heat of your cunt and thrusting them against your wet gummy walls, hitting your sweet spots with his fingers and curling them into those delicious spots.

you squirmed, restrained by cove's ankles over your leg to keep your legs spread open for him while he massaged your insides.

"ah! cove!"

you grind your hips against his fingers, feeling them bump your cervix and you inhale sharply, shaking with pleasure.

"more cove, please more.." cove sucks a mark under your jaw, the biting of his teeth against your skin makes you tremble.

"you like my fingers though.." cove kisses down your neck, working on a new mark when he finds a suitable spot.

"ah! yes but, i-i want more!" you whine when cove pulls out his fingers, and your cunt throbs as cove sucks your slick off his digits.

he lays you down on the bed, your lips locked in a heated kiss with his hand cradling the back of your neck and your nails running down his arms.

cove fumbles for a condom and lube, chasing your lips as he pulls away to strip his boxers.

cove throws the packaging on the floor, a bit eager to be connected with you. he rolls the condom over his cock and lubes up his fingers, kissing you feverishly while he stretches you again with lubed digits, preparing you for a long night.

cove folds one of you legs up, the warmth of his hand on the back of your thighs making you tingle and squirm from the heat radiating from the two of you.

the leg with the anklet is over his shoulder, cove showers kisses on the ankle and as he pushes into your wet cunt he sucks on the skin, leaving red love bites on your ankle.

most times, cove fucked you tenderly, taking his time to unravel you. but he looks at the anklet again and it makes his stomach stir with lust and he starts fucking you shallow and deep.

he latches onto your chest, nibbling and sucking on your nipples and leaving faint love bites along the tender area.

"cove, harder! i'm gonna- ah!" cove's hard thrust cuts you off, his cock hitting a spongy spot near your cervix.

"you're so sexy.." cove grunts and holds your hand, using his body to keep your legs folded in half and he shifts his hips to fuck you harder.

the sound of his cock stirring up your insides, your wet pussy squelched with each thrust and it made both of you hot on the inside.

cove buried his face in your neck, "fuck i'm close.. come with me." cove reaches between you, rubbing your clit.

between cove rubbing your clit and his cock slamming inside of you, you dig your nails into his back, your cunt tightening and fluttering around him as he finished with you.

you held onto each other for a moment before cove got up, tying off the condom and laying next to you.

"so i take it you like the anklet?"

"..y/n!"

[scoops-aboy86]

what would Steddie be like wine tasting?

Okay okay okay, I am totally tipsy wine tasting myself and I love getting asks I LOVE GETTING ASKS

So imma try and answer this all in one go. 

Steve has been around wine his whole life via his parents and knows all about wine tasting

He learned to walk in a tasting room and as a child viewed them as the best place to get free saltines or crunch bread sticks.

So he deffo has a wine snob side even though his actual wine knowledge is fairly superficial 

He is okay at food pairings but mostly because he remembers to ask in tasting rooms and then remembers the answers, rather than being able to rely on his own palate 

Eddie doesn’t know the difference between fine wine and two buck chuck, he would drink either out of a jam jar with ice on a hot summer’s day, it makes Steve threaten to weep sometimes

Mostly Eddie is there for the snacks, boy can power his way through a charcuterie board or two like nobody’s business, he doesn’t really get wine but he is a garbage disposal during these outings he will consume anything you give him

He tries to keep pouring himself water, and he is pretty good about it but sometimes he loses track 

They keep having to ask for more charcuterie boards because inevitably he finished off something on the plate (again) before Steve could try some and Steve is a stickler for trying a bite of everything with each pour (even though if pressed he would not be able to tell you the difference beyond “I liked this better than that”

Steve: “I like this one better than that last pour.” Eddie: “I don’t remember the last pour. This tastes a little like apple juice.”

Eddie ends up sunburnt, drunk, and full; he can handle his beer or spirits but there is something about wine that genuinely knocks him on his ass every time

He wants to be present, for Steve, but he’s so tipsy and extra-easily distracted

Eddie: “How many more pours, is this the last one?” Steve: “There’s one more.” Eddie: “Oh Jesus H Christ, I’m going to die.”

He tries to pour himself a glass of water and misses, Steve has to help him

Steve ends up with a tan, because nothing can burn that guy short of literally visiting the sun

Steve is fine to drive, officer (no he really is, his metabolism is crazy and he’s guzzling water as we speak, he is genuinely fine and a very responsible driver)

Eddie can’t feel his face and wants McDonalds

In this moment I am both Steve (re: tasting room upbringing, omg what if his parents are in marketing and/or events in the wine industry) and Eddie (cannot feel my face, need more crackers or maybe a sandwich to soak this up jfc, my partner is like “Just eat more crackers” right now 😂).