#(which are shockingly hard to find)

[underneaththeweepingwillow]

last day of spring break Sunday scaries are hitting so hard girl help

[waraxarcana]

@akagamiko asked: The High Priestess & The Lovers c: THE MAJOR ARCANA (Still Accepting)

The High Priestess: Do they meditate? Would they be considered "in tune" with themselves, or do they struggle with personal growth?

Hawkins does indeed meditate. Usually first thing in the morning along with some yoga to center himself before leaving his quarters to face the day. He did a lot more of it during the alliance with the Kid Pirates and On-Air Pirates because he needed to center himself a lot more before dealing with his biggest stressors.

As for being in tune with himself and personal growth, that's mostly a no. Or at least, he'll acknowledge and work on his personal shortcomings if he thinks he'll immediately gain something from it. For example, when he left Auger, he realized that most people were put-off by his lack of emotions. He didn't care so much until he realized that tactical displays of emotion could be useful, especially for manipulation. So he sought to learn how to express himself a bit more, or at least mimic others enough to more easily navigate social situations and turn them in his favor.

Unfortunately, he's too stubborn and closeted to be in tune to himself enough to acknowledge his bisexuality.

The Lovers: What do they consider to be the "perfect partner", be it romantic, platonic, alterous, etc.? Is there someone like that in their life?

For romantic/sexual partners, he likes intelligence, passion, and feistiness. If he's going to be with someone, he wants to be able to actually converse with them for hours. He wants to learn and discover things from them and with them. He needs intelligence to remain interested in a person, otherwise he'll quickly discard them once they've fulfilled their purpose. This pairs especially well with someone who's passionate, especially when it's related to their hobbies or goals. Hawkins especially likes someone who's passionate but also knows when to be quiet. As for the feistiness...that's a bit more in NSFW territory lol. I will also note that he considers thick, luxurious hair he can run his fingers through and play with to be a very attractive physical feature.

For platonic relationships, intelligence is still key. Hawkins does not like stupid people. He appreciates intelligence and cunning. Good conversation is again something he craves if he's going to be associated with someone. Loyalty is something he will also begrudgingly appreciate, though mostly to him. He's also someone who prefers animals over people, so he's more likely to tolerate the company of minks and animals over most humans. He finds they have a soothing presence about them (and yes, this does also include his carnivorous horse).

[autumnoakes]

like at the beginning of 2025 i was lowkey into the last of us. it sparked my interest and i was considering getting the first game. but something shifted once i realized how greedy sony really was and how little they cared about the IP itself and just wanted to use it to make money (i think it was the remaster for tlou 2. y'know. a 2020 game that already has an upgraded port? that game). it completely ruined any interest i had in the series.

nintendo is damn close to doing the exact same thing to a series that is one of my special interests.

[rustedgate]

Despite me being the only one who sews in my house, it's a very dangerous game to bring my mom to the fabric store

[yinyuedijun]

TRUST FALL | asakura shin x f!reader

Shin is a painfully vanilla guy but tries his best to let you live out your kinky fantasies. You have a breakdown when you try to indulge his very normal one. (Or: 3 times Shin humoured your kinks + 1 time you humoured his.)

11.5k words, sequel to situationship. nsft tags: fingering with the power glove, free use, somnophilia, domesticity kink + breeding kink. all sex is consensual (sometimes veers into cnc territory, shin relies on esp to obtain consent), none of it is rough or mean. toward the end of the fic, the narrative focuses on anxieties and/or desires about starting a family. chapter 203 spoilers. dividers by @/cafekitsune!

IMPORTANT: the reader is hypersexual due to off-screen sexual trauma, which is not explicitly described, but is discussed. there is also one non-graphic nightmare related to this trauma that turns into a horny dream about shin (lol). 20% of this fic is a psychosexually strange healing narrative, 80% of it is just silly porn.

Sometimes, Shin is glad that he can hear all your thoughts.

Mind you, it's not like he doesn't want to give you some privacy. God knows he's tried a million times to tune out your internal monologue the way he can normally do with other people, and god knows you’ve tried your hardest to imitate the cognitive trick that Nagumo does to keep his mind hidden away from Shin. The reality is, though, that your feelings always overpower any psychological barrier that the two of you attempt to create. Your thoughts are always too loud for him to ignore, usually because you're either too happy or too horny around him to keep them quiet. Apparently Shin has that effect on you.

But often he doesn't mind it. It’s sometimes even convenient. Helpful for all the stuff that you want to do in bed, for example.

Now, Shin’s known from Day 1 that you're kind of a freak. He’s seen enough of your psyche to understand the exact nature of your sexual fantasies, and on the day that you became an official couple, he went home and googled how you're supposed to have safe, sane, and consensual sex with a person who dreams of doing the exact opposite of that. Although Shin is himself a strictly vanilla guy, and the two of you were already having perfectly nasty vanilla sex that was satisfying you—he likes you a lot. He wants to treat you right, give you nice things. This includes everything from flowers to chocolates to exciting orgasms for the rest of your life, even if it means he’ll need to get a little freaky about it.

Shin’s since ended up learning a lot about BDSM, and he’s also ended up trying a lot of basic BDSM practices that don't really work on you. You are shockingly bad at enforcing your boundaries. You always get too horny to remember your safeword (Resident Evil—you chose it yourself), find it too much work to use nonverbal cues, and you dry up whenever he tries to use the traffic light system.

“It doesn't matter,” you once whined at him, “it’s not like I’d ever not wanna have sex! You can do whatever you want to me.” Which was an insane thing to say, and exactly why Shin feels like you should know how to use a safeword. But when he tried to explain this to you, you’d crawled into his lap and begged him to fuck you anyway. His dick got so hard that he could only say yes, though he first made you understand that it would be regular sex, not the stuckage roleplay you'd been asking him to try.

Regular sex. You're only supposed to be having regular sex.

There is no reason why you should be in tears right now, desperately trying to stop yourself from cumming on Shin’s fingers—and all over his power glove.

This is mostly your fault. Mostly. Ever since seeing Shin nearly kill someone using the thing, you've fantasised about him having it on in bed. Specifically, you’ve fantasised about him wearing it while his fingers are knuckle-deep in your dripping pussy. Shin wasn't ever planning on humouring those daydreams, but, well. He likes you a lot. He wants to give you nice things. If you want to have a mind-blowing orgasm while you're grinding your clit against the power glove, he'll let you—on the condition that you don't ruin it.

You've been having a lot of difficulty fulfilling this condition.

You're breathless, broken. Face tight from the effort of holding back your orgasm for so long. You’ve cum nearly twice now, and only didn't because Shin decided not to force it. Not yet, anyway. He admits he's being a little mean: every time he curls his fingers and rubs your sweet spot, he feels your cunt drip for him and he can’t help but do it more. The tears pearling up at the corners of your eyes and the way you're trying to squirm away from his hand would ordinarily make him stop—even make him worry—but then he hears you thinking, right there, right there, feels so good Shin you make me feel so good do that again, and then of course he has to comply.

“Shin,” you whimper, “I’ll cum if you don't stop that.”

You try to pull away again, hips jerking back from his touch, but your pussy is begging for him—tight and wet and greedy for more. His fingers are soaked, as is the black steel encasing his palm. Part of Shin feels like the glove has already been ruined; the rest of him is too horny to care. Completely unrepentant, his thumb rubs gentle circles into your clit, and he feels his cock throb at the noise you make.

“Shin,” you whine, “don't.”

He glances up at you. “You want me to stop using my fingers?”

No. You bite your lip. Pretend to look distressed. “I… I’ll make a mess if you don't.”

“I'll slow down,” he promises, and when he eases the pressure on your g-spot, your inner disappointment is so loud that he knows what he should do next.

When Shin lowers his face between your legs and pushes your thighs open with his free hand, you squeal.

“Shin!”

“What? I’m not using my fingers. Should be fine, right?” He doesn't need to wait for a response—he already knows what you're thinking—so he leans down and puts his mouth on you the way he's been wanting the whole night.

You whine when you feel his tongue on your clit. Clench immediately around his fingers—more Shin please I want more please touch me the way I like, you know where—so he curls them again, and the way you cry makes him want nothing more than to get on top of you and fuck you properly.

But that's not how you want to cum. You don't want to cum on his cock; you want to finish on his fingers, soak the sheets, and probably ruin Natsuki’s day with a repair call. So Shin closes his eyes and starts sucking at your clit, and he’s relentless about it—even though you try to push him away, even though you start keening and telling him to slow down, even when you’re panting hard and pleading with him to give you a break. “Shin,” you say, voice breaking, “Shin, no, I can't, please, I'll—I’ll cum, you gotta stop, no no no, I can't, I can't—”

You sob. Fully cry as your back arches, and Shin groans as you gush all over his fingers. Can’t help but watch as you fall apart for him, the way you’ve been wanting the whole time. He admits that it was hot seeing you cum despite the fact that you were begging not to, knowing that he was the one to make you lose control. Still, Shin is a vanilla guy; as soon as you've calmed down, he's wiping away your tears and studying you carefully.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Was that alright? I was reading your mind the whole time and did whatever you were saying to me, but I was still a little worried that—”

You throw your arms around him and shut him up with a kiss.

Once Shin gives up on the use of safewords and starts relying on his clairvoyance, the free use thing also becomes a lot easier.

Now, it isn't like you aren't beaming into Shin’s mind—whether at the store, in your home, or even on the train—that you want him to fuck you at all times. It isn't like he's happily obliging whenever he's over at your place, as many times as his dick will allow. But he likes to ask first, and he likes to hear you say yes first. Unfortunately, you have the specific fantasy that Shin doesn't care what you want—you just want him to manhandle you and pull you onto his cock whenever he feels like it. Also, it's apparently very important that he takes you by surprise, and that he keeps going even if you complain about it?

Shin truly doesn't get it. He's not opposed to having frequent sex. He likes you a lot, wants to give you nice things. You want his cock inside you at all hours of the day? Sure, he’ll give it to you. But why do you want him to be so rude about it? Whatever happened to saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’?!

So anyway, he does it.

It’s hard catching you by surprise. His ESP tells him that you do want—and now expect—to be fucked nearly every moment of every day. You want it in the morning, when you wake up in bed and heat starts curling in your belly at the sight of him next to you. You want it when you're in the kitchen, trying to focus on making dinner while you squeeze your thighs together and try to relieve some of the heat between your legs. You want it as you clean the windows, your panties soaked and thighs messy with slick, thinking of the way Shin fucked you against the glass just the day before.

Want you inside me, Shin, you think nearly all the time. Want you to use me. Please?

This is how you find yourself leaning against the kitchen counter, all the dishes in the sink forgotten as your pussy squeezes around his dick. How you find yourself warming his cock as the two of you watch TV, your focus on the screen wavering as his fingers circle your bud. How he ends up interrupting you when you’re trying to read, pulling down your top so he can squeeze your breasts and tease your nipples through your bra. Stress relief, he calls it, which is true. There are fewer things that take his mind off his ex-assassin troubles than playing with your tits as you squirm on his lap, listening to you squeal and whine as you try to read. Sometimes he can get you to cum that way, too—just by licking and pinching your nipples and letting you grind yourself on his thigh.

It takes him a long time to actually get you off-guard, though.

He finally manages it when he comes home after a late shift in the store, wound up from nearly (but not actually!) killing two hitmen. It wasn't the violence that had bothered him, really; it was the fact that those pricks had knocked over an entire shelf in the store in the process of attempting murder. Couldn't they have attacked Mr. Sakamoto outside?! It took fucking forever to clean up and restock all those cooking wines and soy sauces. Assholes.

To his significant shame, Shin spent his entire commute afterward thinking of coming home and seeing you. Not to kiss you and cuddle with you, which was the sort of thing he wanted to do at the start of the relationship—but to pull you onto his lap and hear the cute noises you make whenever he plays with your body. Apparently that's now his stress response after several weeks of your free use policy, which makes him want to die a little bit. But as this been your explicit goal, he also decides not to fault himself for it too much.

By the time he's stepping into your apartment, he's already hard and thinking about which positions he’ll fuck you in.

In a miraculous twist of fate, Shin catches you while you're folding laundry and thinking about the news, rather than the way his dick felt inside you last night. He knows then that this is his moment: the stars have aligned, and he can finally fulfill your favourite fantasy.

“Shin,” you say, face lighting up. “Welcome home! I didn't hear you come in.”

When he kisses you, you beam at him in a way that's so pretty and innocent that it makes his cock twitch and has him feeling bad about what he's about to do. The two of you could have a wholesome night in for once. You're in the mood for it. He can tell from the way you’re chattering at him about your day off with Lu, and how you’re thinking about maybe doing a trip to Hakone with him because of a travel ad you saw on the subway. I've only ever been once on a mission… it would be nice to go as a couple next time. I wanna go to a ryokan with Shin…

Shin would definitely enjoy a couple’s trip with you. Not just to Hakone, but everywhere else in the world too. Maybe it can be an annual thing, something to do for anniversaries. (Though it's not like he’s thought of destinations for your next five anniversaries or anything. Nope. Not at all.)

Ordinarily he'd start trip planning with you on the spot, but this is an unprecedented opportunity, and his dick is throbbing from the sweet way you keep looking at him. You're in the middle of talking about plans for the rest of the evening, still folding laundry, when Shin's hands slip beneath the hem of your t-shirt.

He feels like a creep doing it. It's rude, right? It's so rude. You were thinking just now about making some popcorn and cuddling up to him and watching John Wick tonight. You weren't expecting to feel his palms sliding up your sides and cupping your breasts. Or for him to start kneading them.

But after a moment of shock, Shin hears a mental cheer from you that’s so loud that it nearly has him laughing.

Of course, you don't voice your enthusiasm. “Shin,” you whine instead, squirming as his fingers start circling your nipples, “I'm—ah—trying to get these chores done.”

“I’m sure they can wait,” he says, pulling you backwards. His cock presses against your ass and your thrill is palpable in his neurons. “This’ll be quick. I promise.”

You don't give in immediately. You chide him a little, then make a half-hearted attempt at continuing at your task. Your hands shake as you pick a shirt out of the basket and start folding it, all while you're being groped and teased and rutted against like a toy. You’re opening a drawer when Shin’s hand wanders between your thighs and he runs his fingers along your shorts. They're thin enough for you to feel his touch through the fabric, and you shudder when he starts rubbing your pussy through them—with a precision that has you melting, because he can hear it when you think about how good it feels when he touches your clit like that, especially while he's ignoring your complaints about it. Who knew you had it in you, Shin? you giggle internally. (Definitely not him, he wants to reply.)

He slides a hand into your shorts, and that's when you drop the laundry and give up.

Shin finds himself fucking you for the better part of the night, first from behind, then from beneath you. The sight of you bouncing on his cock drives him so crazy that he has you pinned underneath him not too long later, moaning and drooling as he drives you into the mattress. He only stops when you start thinking that you're starting to feel too sore. (You can keep going anyway, Shin, you tell him, but he knows he wouldn't be able: it kills his boner whenever you're in any kind of pain.)

But even if you’re a bit uncomfortable, you're practically glowing by the time he's finished.

“That was so fun,” you say as you kiss him. “You should do that more often.”

Shin snorts. “I don't think we can have sex any more than we already do without my dick falling off.” He gives you a curious look, suddenly worried. “Is this really not enough for you, though? ‘cause I can do other things if you want. Use my mouth, or toys, or whatever…”

You seem confused. “Well, it's not really about how many rounds we go…”

He blinks. “It's not?”

“No.”

“Then what is it about?”

You tilt your head. “Haven’t I said it? I mean, I've definitely thought it. It’s about being treated like a ho—”

“I know,” Shin interrupts, deadpan, and you giggle. But then he's studying you intensely; if he wants to give you exciting orgasms for the rest of your life, he'll need to understand what makes you tick.

“What’s the appeal of, uh… being treated that way? If it's not just about how many times we do it in a day?”

Shin encounters one of the major limitations of ESP: if you can't form a coherent thought, then Shin can’t read it. He can only see the knot in your brow, feel the discombobulation in your mind as you try to make out the exact shape of your desire. See it in your face when you can't.

“Who knows,” you finally say. “It's just hotter the way we did it just now, I guess? Like, it's a whole genre of porn. Tons of people like it.”

He frowns. Shin truly doesn't get it, and he wishes he did. But he doesn't need to understand your fantasies to humour you, as long as it makes you happy.

Though... there is one free use scenario he can't deliver.

No matter how many times he’s tried and how many times you've begged him, Shin can't bring himself to have sex with you in your sleep.

He feels a bit bad about it, honestly, because you clearly really want it. You've pleaded with him to try it out for the past twenty nights in a row, slept in exceptionally revealing lingerie just to tempt him, and have recently begun a diabolical routine of teasing him every night. You make out with him, rub yourself on him like a cat in heat, and grind your core on his aching cock through your tiny little panties—all before rolling over in bed and knocking out.

But despite your new habit leaving him with the worst case of blue balls in the world, Shin just can't bring himself to touch you in your sleep.

He doesn't get how it's supposed to work in the first place. It's a kink you probably picked up from all the fanfiction and doujinshi that's rotted your brain, and it doesn't make sense at all when applied to real life. A trained assassin is the worst person to try somnophilia with: “You're a light sleeper and your first instinct is to kill anyone who startles you,” he’d pointed out once. “How am I even supposed to touch you in your sleep without you waking up and accidentally stabbing me?”

In response, you started to take benadryl and melatonin before going to bed, and you promised that you would absolutely, 100% not stab him if you woke up in spite of that. (Okay, it might be more like 90%, but Shin can just use his ESP to see the future and dodge, right?) This flabbergasted him, but also didn't really surprise him.

It also didn’t really help.

The heart of the problem is that somnophilia is truly just too freaky for Shin. Despite everything he's tried with you, nothing really hits like vanilla sex. Even when he's enjoying the more adventurous stuff, he can only do so if he knows without a doubt that you're fully into it, and that's just kind of impossible if you're asleep when he's doing it. What if you wake up and realise that you didn't want any dick that night, actually? What if you wake up and you feel complicated, empty—not as good as you thought you would?

“But I’m always going to want it,” you insist, “and I'll like whatever you do with my body! You don't have to worry about all that.” Which is, again, an absolutely insane thing to say—but Shin doesn't know how to explain that to you. Your mind buzzes with frustration and something that feels a little like heartache whenever he tries, a knot in your chest that you don't really understand yourself, and it makes him feel so bad that all he can do is kiss you until your sadness ebbs away.

So Shin keeps his hands to himself, even when you're having the horniest dreams he's ever seen.

He doesn't mean to peer in on them. It's just impossible not to when you're next to each other in bed and your subconscious is making you think and feel crazy things. The sad dreams are probably the loudest ones, but the wet dreams are a close second. And this current dream is both very wet and very loud. Whenever Shin closes his eyes, he sees it clearly: some faceless man is on top of you, inside you. With each thrust of his hips, you shift in your sleep—thighs pressed together, hips twitching. Hot breaths, little whimpers. Your body is begging to be filled.

Shin doesn't take it personally that you're dreaming of some random guy instead of him. It's part of a particular kind of free use fantasy for you—the idea of anonymous men using you impersonally, like some kind of gloryhole. You used to think of it so much in your waking hours that it's lost all shock value to him. It doesn't turn him on, either—it's just not his thing.

So he lies down next to you and prepares to fall asleep to some pretty mundane gangbang visions. He's nearly drifted off when something happens that makes his eyes open wide—

You start to feel uncomfortable.

Uncomfortable, uncertain. You've just realised that you can't recognise the face of the man on top of you, that you aren't sure if it's Shin. You’re squirming, wanting to get away, because I don't want anyone other than Shin to touch me, I don't want anyone other than him to use my body, I don't want anyone other than him inside it. A sense of panic grips you, and now the whimpers you're letting out don't sound needy anymore.

You sound afraid.

Shin is on you immediately. A hand on your cheek, his voice soft so as not to scare you. “Hey,” he says, “I’m right here. I'm right here. Wake up for me, okay? C'mon.”

He shakes you gently, and then not so gently, and now he's wondering what ungodly cocktail of sleep meds you took to stay unconscious like this. But even if you aren't awake, you can still hear him, his voice cutting through the fog of your sedative-fueled dream—and that's enough to comfort you. You can make out his features now, which are so handsome that you can't help but calm down.

Oh, your dream self says, it is you. Hi, Shin.

Shin sighs. “Hi,” he says, voice full of relief. “Yeah, it's me.”

The little smile you give him is so tender that his heart lurches. I'm so glad, you sigh. I don't want anyone else to do this to me.

This dream version of you is chatty. Infinitely chattier than your real self. I wouldn't have minded some other guy on top of me in the past, you know? you tell him as he undresses you. As long as I came, I didn't really mind whoever was inside me. It's not like I got to choose anyway. I was using my body for missions, so I only slept with whoever I got assigned. Cumming was a nice bonus though.

The Shin in your dream kisses a path from your jaw to your neck to your breasts, ignoring you. (The real Shin would never do this—he would probably start crying if you ever talked about any of this stuff out loud to him, actually.) He doesn't reply as you keep babbling about what sex used to be like for you, about all the stuff that Shin’s seen in your sadder dreams. Not that you think they're sad; you don't know that you sometimes cry in your sleep. You don't think it's too strange that the kind of sex you had for missions sometimes made you pretend that you weren't in your own body, that the kind of things being done to it weren't also being done to your heart. As long as your body had an orgasm, then you were probably enjoying it—that only makes sense, right?

But then you started sleeping with Shin, and sex always feels so different now. Shin doesn't just make you cum; he makes you feel like you're melting. Like you don't want to be anywhere in the world except in his arms where he can hold you and kiss you and hopefully fuck you a second time.

I never liked going multiple rounds with other people the way I do with you, you observe. I kinda feel like I maybe didn't like having sex at all. But you like it if it's Shin. All the things you hated doing with other people—being held, being kissed, being used—you always enjoy doing them with Shin. You’re actually pretty sure that you were doing them all wrong before you met him, and it's nice that your body feels right whenever he touches you now.

That's what you like most about when he fucks you, actually. You can always trust Shin to make your body feel right.

That's when it clicks for him: the shape of your desire, the reason your heart twinges when Shin starts talking about safewords and boundaries and how he can't just do whatever he wants with you. It makes him feel an ache in his own chest, and he finds himself leaning down to kiss your forehead, and then—after a long, thoughtful pause—the silky contour of your mouth.

The Shin in your dreams moves in lock-step with him. Kind of. He kisses you as well, his hands wandering all over your body. But then he gets wildly out of character. Shin goes bright red when he hears the porn dialogue he's been assigned. He wants to wake you up so he can tell you that he wouldn't ever call you his cum dump (what the hell), but it's making you wet that you're being treated like one—and to his utter shame, Shin’s dick is starting to twitch too. Something about you squirming underneath him, desperate and vulnerable for him even when asleep, is making his brain short-circuit.

When you start begging him to touch you—please, Shin, I was so scared I need to feel you now, need you inside me right now, want you to use my pussy, only you and no one else—Shin feels something inside himself snap.

And he touches you.

He starts with your breasts, because that seems least likely to disturb your sleep, and god knows he doesn't want you to wake up and witness him doing something so deranged. But your eyes stay closed even though you feel his touch in your dreams, your nipples pebbling as he teases and pinches them. Your brow dips and you whine, and you only get louder when his tongue starts swirling around a nipple—but you stay fully asleep.

When he reaches down, he's unsurprised to find your panties soaked through. Not just from your juices, but also from all the cum he left inside you earlier in the day. He strokes you through the ruined satin, a thumb rubbing your swollen clit, and he’s startled to feel you get even slicker. His dream self wonders at how sensitive you are, how needy your pussy is, and Shin cringes at hearing himself saying all that—but he also agrees. You always make a point of using toys to keep yourself stretched out for him if he's not around to do it himself, and your body is at this point practically trained to expect his touch—but even then, it's shocking how ready you are to take him even when unconscious.

When he pushes your panties to the side, he sees your hole is fluttering around nothing—both here and inside your dream. The sight makes him lose any shred of self-restraint, and he frees his dick from his sweats and starts fisting himself until his length is slick with his own pre-cum. Your subconscious can't quite recreate the feeling of taking his cock, leaving you panting and unsatisfied, and he fully intends to fix that.

He lines himself up with your slick folds—and he pushes into you.

Shin can hardly believe that you're still sleeping right now, all while your pussy helplessly swallows his cock. He'd feel bad if he didn't know how blissed out you were, your subconscious flooding with euphoria, your body overfilled with pleasure. He's being pretty rough with you in your dreams, but he's careful with you in reality, the way he's always told you he'd be.

Plus, he really doesn't want you to wake up.

But despite his best efforts, your eyes open. You're groggy, confused, not understanding what's happening and how come your breasts are exposed or why is there a cock inside you—and then your eyes are going wide as your pussy starts pulsing around him, and you're gasping and crying as you feel yourself soaking everything.

By the time you figure out what's going on, Shin’s come back to his senses. He blurts an apology on instinct, launches into a garbled explanation of why he was fucking you—but you just give him a dazed smile, a sweet little kiss, and then you turn over to spread your dripping pussy for him.

“Keep going, Shin,” you say, voice drowsy but no less clear. “You're still hard, right? Use my body until you feel better. Promise I'll like it.”

Shin sucks in a breath, feels the last threads of his sanity snapping. He's a vanilla guy, after all. Nothing hits like hearing you ask to be fucked out loud—except for maybe the sight of his cum dripping out of your swollen, needy pussy, your cunt fluttering around nothing and clearly wanting his cock back inside it. The combination is driving him wild.

You don't end up getting any more sleep after that.

The two of you do a lot after that. Way more than Shin ever thought he would in bed, including the most embarrassing roleplays in the world. There was the stuckage roleplay, the sex worker roleplay, the school classroom roleplay, the french maid roleplay, and—perhaps the worst of them all—the chikan roleplay.

(Yes—the two of you tried the free use thing in public, with Shin feeling you up during a commute home as you squirmed and pretended to ignore it. He'd tried to be subtle, telling himself he would stop if anyone noticed what you were doing, but you kept thinking that you really wanted him to keep going, so of course he had to oblige. Shin now can't take the Yamanote line without wanting to die from shame, nor without thinking about you instantly cumming on his fingers when he told you that you were being watched.)

But despite all those insane sex acts, nothing scares him as much as when you ask about his kinks.

“I don't have any specific fantasies,” he says quickly. “I'm a vanilla guy. You know that.”

“Uh huh. Sure. I also know that you're lying.”

He tries not to sweat.

“It’s okay, Shin,” you say delicately. “You don't need to be embarrassed. Breeding kinks are very common and respectable. It's the most normal thing out there, if you think about it. Humans need to procreate somehow, don't they?”

Shin can't form a response. He’s too busy visualising potential escape routes from this room, of which there are none because you are much faster than him and could easily intercept him if he bolted. When he accepts his fate, he forces himself to look at you and finds himself being stared at. Studied.

“So,” you say.

“S-so?”

“Tell me what flavour of breeding kink you like.”

His face burns. “What do you mean, flavour?”

“Like the kind of scenario where the breeding is happening. Like omegaverse, or hybrids, or those stories where someone's chained up and forcibly bred. You know.”

Shin realises then that he absolutely cannot tell you the fantasy that has him furiously jacking off when you aren’t around. He just knows you wouldn't understand it, and possibly you'd also read too much into it. Maybe you'd even freak out and break up with him. He’ll need to keep this a secret and carry it to the grave—or at least for another five years, after which it might make more sense to bring up as a serious conversation.

But you're very, very persistent about asking, and around five weeks later, he caves and tells you everything.

“Pleeease, Shin,” you beg for the millionth time, batting your lashes and giving him wide, pretty eyes you know he can't resist. “Whatever it is, I promise I won't judge. Like—I’m the last person who can make fun of anyone for their kinks. You know the kind of shit I read.”

Shin does indeed know the kind of shit you read—he’s also read it all, secondhand through your thoughts—and he does indeed know that you are in no position to judge anyone else for their preferences. But judgment isn't what he's worried about. It would be easier if it were. If his breeding kink had anything to do with omegaverse or hybrids or the weird dubcon stuff you described, it would be far less incriminating. But given the truth, he coughs and tries to crack a joke—“I dunno, it might be too freaky even for you”—and you give him a look so disappointed that he nearly flinches.

“H-hey—what’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” I just wish you trusted me. “I’m fine, I promise.” I trust you with my thoughts. How come you can't trust me with yours? “Don't pay attention to whatever you can hear from my mind, by the way. It's not anything you should worry about.” I don't want you to feel guilty.

The two of you have a strict rule, given your lack of mental boundaries: when Shin overhears something that you don't want to discuss, he's supposed to pretend it never happened. Usually he obliges, but this is just impossible to ignore. You have a point: you are willing to be vulnerable around him 24/7. There are no psychological barriers between the two of you. Each moment you choose to be with Shin, you also choose to forfeit all privacy for your heart—an act that confuses Shin as much as it moves him. Because everyone dislikes his uninhibited access to their minds. Everyone has something to hide. Everyone should be at least a little bit afraid of him—you, most of all.

The one time Shin voiced all this, you gave him a funny look and thought, I don't understand what you mean.

Because you don't mind that Shin can hear all your thoughts. You don't mind him knowing your insides, feeling out all the places that make you feel nauseous and bruised and dirtied. You don't mind that he's seen things about you that make you feel disgusted with yourself, things that make you feel like your body is undeserving of love—because you know he won't judge you for any of it. Because Shin is a good person, he’s good to me and he's good to my body, better than anyone else has ever been and will ever be. That must be why I have such mind-blowing orgasms when I sleep with him.

I didn't know how good sex could feel until I met you, Shin. Did you know that?

Shin did know that. He had actually figured all that out some time ago from seeing your dreams, which is only making him feel worse. His access to your thoughts is so unlimited that he understands your desires better than you do yourself. It's only fair that you should also understand some of his, right?

Besides, it's just a kink. A harmless kink. You won't think too hard about it, right?

Right?

He clears his throat.

“I…”

You glance at him, curious.

“I'm kinda into… like, a domestic kind of scenario… with the whole, uh…”

He can't bring myself to say it, so you do it for him: “The breeding thing? Like, you’re into the idea of breeding me in a domestic roleplay?”

Shin is going to die. But he perseveres, because it's you, and you deserve this bare minimum from him: “Yeah… like. You're a housewife, and we… y'know.”

You give him a blank stare, which then gives way to understanding. “Oh! I know what you mean.”

“D-do you?”

“Yeah! Like those doujinshi where there's a lonely housewife and the neighbour cucks her husband by sleeping with her, right? Or her daughter’s boyfriend sleeps with her. Or the husband’s father.” You hum, studying him, somehow not reacting to the way his jaw just dropped. Just what the hell have you been reading when he isn't around? “Or is it one of those wedding NTR scenarios?”

“What? No!” Shin really is going to die. But he comes clean, because he won't be able to live with himself if he gets roped into a roleplay about any of those situations: “I just mean, like. We’re a married couple, and we’re trying for a baby.”

You stare, and he hears the open confusion in your mind. Apparently you can't fathom why anyone would find a life of domestic bliss sexy if it's not about to involve some form of cucking. But you keep your word and don't judge him: “Oh. Well, that'll be easy enough to do.”

Shin blinks. “You mean… you’ll do it?”

“Of course I'll do it,” you say, warm and reassuring. “I wanna make you feel as good as you make me feel, Shin.”

Something in him melts at the words, especially because he can hear that you're saying them with your whole heart. Every response he can think of is lacking, and he's at a painful loss for a reply. But then you cheerfully add, “And anyway, you fingerbanged me on the Yamanote line. This is the least I can do in return,” and Shin goes back to wanting to disintegrate.

Despite Shin’s insistence that his fantasy has nothing to do with the R18 cucking doujinshi that you read, you seem dead set on taking inspiration from them. For the next week, he's subjected to some of the worst imagery he's ever encountered as you “perform research” for the scenario you're planning for him—which is to say, he reads a great deal of ecchi manga through your thoughts. Their contents make him incredibly afraid of whatever you'll come up with, but he's also oddly touched at how committed you are to the whole thing, so he can't help but leave you to your machinations.

And to be fair to you, you do your due diligence by asking him additionally what he wants.

“What’s your idea of domestic bliss?” you say one afternoon, when the shop is slow and sleepy and Lu is mercifully absent. “Like, what do you imagine a happy household looks like?”

Shin knows the answer immediately: Mr. Sakamoto with Ms. Aoi and Hana. Eating a home-cooked meal around a table with them and Lu. Waking up each morning to the scent of miso soup and the noise of a laughing child. Hana running into the store as she returns home from school, carefree and loved. Watching you teach her how to fold origami cranes so you can make some to hang from her ceiling. Seeing you beam when she says, Thank you, neesan.

Being embraced by you when he comes back to the store after almost dying. Feeling you wipe the blood off his knuckles before kissing them. Hearing you say, Welcome home, I missed you, let’s eat dinner. Cooking for you with his hands that he once used only for killing.

That's family to Shin. All of you, in the store, together.

Now, Shin will absolutely die if you use such sacred memories as a reference for this roleplay, so he doesn't voice any of this. Problem is—he doesn't have any other reference point for what a family should be. He grew up in a lab, and then afterwards he watched his father explode on a ship. You can't exactly fill in the gaps for him either, given how you were raised, and he constantly listens to the buzz of your disappointment at having no real material to work with for this roleplay.

“I dunno,” Shin eventually says. “Maybe, like, I come home and you’re in the kitchen? And I help you make dinner? And we eat together and go to bed together. I feel like that's what a married couple does.”

You hum. “Yes, that sounds right. And I'm wearing an apron, right? With a conservative outfit that's still tight enough to be kind of sexy?”

“Uh…”

“And I'm super lonely because you've been neglecting me because of work and we haven't had sex in two years?”

Shin is baffled. You can't even go two hours without asking him to have sex—two years is unfathomable. “Uh…”

“And the neighbour has made several passes at the lonely housewife next door, but I turn him down because I only want my husband’s cock inside me, right?”

Shamefully, Shin’s dick twitches at this last suggestion. Still, he says, “Er, no, I’d really just like you to act as you normally do. I don't need a re-enactment of The Neighbourhood Housewife series.”

“Aw, okay… And you're really sure you don't want me to wear an apron?”

Shin overhears a thought, and he almost snorts. “You're free to wear one if you want.”

“I just feel like aprons do a lot for me.” You give Shin—and his shop apron—a meaningful look. “Don't you?”

Shin tries not to flush. A little afraid that you'll next suggest that he wears an apron and plays a lonely househusband, he hastily says, “Good point. I think you should wear one.”

When Shin gets home that Friday, he discovers that aprons do a lot for him too.

This revelation is shocking for him, given all the housewife-centric porn that he's been forced to read secondhand. He's seen probably half a dozen women in nothing but aprons and hardly reacted to any of them, but the sight of you in a sky blue apron, humming as you chop away at some carrots, is doing something horrible to him.

The setup is getting to him too. There are couple photos placed throughout your apartment (among them is his personal favourite, taken among the cherry blossoms at Himeji Castle), as well as a fake wedding band on your finger (he’d picked out one with you at your insistence, and Shin thought it was funny at the time but now his ears are going pink at the sight of it). The air is rich with the fragrance of cooking rice and simmering curry. New curtains, a vase of flowers on the table, unfamiliar decor and some of his personal effects are placed throughout the living room—all to create the illusion of just having moved in together.

The scene isn't making him feel horny, exactly. It's more like it's making him feel warm.

It’d be nice if the two of you could live together like this, he thinks. If Shin could really come home to this everyday, and if you could really greet him with a kiss and smile, and if you could cook together and spend time together and fuck nasty together, if you could take your husband’s cock every day and get filled up with his—

Oh. Those are your thoughts. Not Shin’s.

He clears his throat, and he half-expects you to crack a joke about your dirty monologuing, but instead you put down your knife and come by to kiss him on the cheek. “Welcome home, dear,” you say warmly, and Shin’s heart jumps at the pet name. You smile as his cheeks flush: My husband is so handsome, you think, and Shin feels like he's about to explode.

Somehow, this is harder for him than fingerbanging you on the Yamanote line. That was mortifying, but this roleplay is quickly revealing things about his psyche that frankly distress him. Still, he plays his part, and tries to get into the appropriate mindset. You're his wife right now—his beautiful, pretty, gorgeous wife who he lucked out with and somehow married and now he’s has a home with you, and he's going to start a family with you, and he hopes the baby will have your smile and eyes and hair, and he's going to take so many photos of the two of you, and holy shit he's so glad you don't have ESP.

Anyway, he comes up with an underwhelming response: “H-hi. How was your day?”

“Good,” you say. “Was nice to get a break from work. Missed you the whole time though. You kept me waiting too long.” Wanted to feel you inside me all day, you whine at him mentally, and Shin doesn't know how actual married couples go about their daily lives. If you were really his wife and he heard you thinking like that, he'd probably never leave the house.

(Roleplay, he reminds himself immediately after. This is a roleplay. He shouldn't think about actually marrying you. That would be a dangerous route to go down, and he definitely hasn't thought about it before. Nor dreamt about it. No, sir.)

“I'll make it up to you,” he promises.

“You'd better.” You point at the curry that's simmering on the stove. “You can start by helping me with dinner.”

The way the rest of the night is similar to a regular evening together. The two of you cook together, eat together, and clean together. The only difference is that instead of hearing you monologue in your head about how much you want your boyfriend to fuck you, Shin is instead subjected to fantasies about your life as newlyweds. You beam a false memory of your wedding night directly into his head, and the mental image of Shin fucking you in your wedding dress has him so bricked up that he nearly breaks several glasses.

By the time you've both showered and gone to bed, Shin has been tortured for hours with detailed fantasies about your married sex life. (They involve various sets of bridal lingerie, an amorous honeymoon in Thailand, and sex on every surface in the apartment. All unprotected, of course, and accompanied by tender kissing each time.) Somehow, you don't break immersion even once. Even when Shin joins you in bed, you're thinking about how lucky you are to have him as your husband.

Shin doesn't think he's ever been so hard in his life.

You giggle when you’re straddling his lap, feeling it for yourself through your silk slip. “Someone’s excited.”

“‘Course I am,” he says between kisses. “How couldn't I be?”

How couldn't he be, if you were his wife?

(Roleplay, he reminds himself again. Roleplay. This is a roleplay! It's not good to think in marital hypotheticals. It's stupid, really. But he's doing it anyway and holy shit is it making him horny.)

He reaches under your slip, isn't surprised to find your cunt bare and dripping for him. Stretched myself out for you while I was at home today, you think as you move your lips against his, hot and messy and addictive. Used a toy, but it just wasn't the same as my husband’s cock.

He groans against your mouth as he reads your memories of your day: not a fabrication like the hazy visions of your false wedding and honeymoon, but detailed and heated and real. How you really did feel the frustration of a lonely and neglected housewife and couldn't help but take your favourite vibrator and spread yourself out on your shared bed. How you split yourself open on it and moaned his name as it stretched you out. How you gushed as you came, and how it still didn't feel as good as Shin’s touch because you didn't get to kiss him and feel his arms around you at the end.

He feels crazy when he lays you out beneath him. Insane when he studies your gaze, honeyed with lust, and your pussy, pretty and glistening for him. You give him a smile that's shy—genuinely shy, he can tell from your thoughts, because you've done a million freaky things but you've never acted out anything so tender before. Never played house like this, never imagined a cozy and warm life where you get to have a family.

He's never really thought of it before, either. He never had a cozy and warm life growing up, and he didn't really think he could ever change enough that he could have one. Never thought he could have a family, and maybe this is just a roleplay, but it's the first time he's really envisioning himself starting one.

“Are you gonna put a baby in me, Shin?” you ask shyly, and he nearly cums in his pants.

Shin generally likes to take his time with you in bed. Even if he can hear you mentally whining for his cock, he ordinarily likes to tease you with his tongue and fingers first. But he's desperate to be inside you today, and he can tell that you aren't upset by how quickly he frees his cock and presses it against your entrance. He can feel himself throbbing as he slides between your folds, his cock twitching at the slick and sticky noises from your cunt.

“So eager,” you tease. You break immersion just to taunt him, bedroom eyes turning sly: Wow, you really do get off to this stuff. Never would have pinned you for the type to enjoy breeding someone like this—

“Wife,” he corrects you without thinking, and you blink.

“Huh?”

“You’re not ‘someone’, you're my wife,” he says, fully talking with his dick, “I wouldn't marry anyone other than you, and I wouldn't put a baby in anyone other than you.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. Shin is vaguely aware of your heart pounding as he lines his cock up with your entrance, your pussy fluttering even as your mind scrambles for words. “O-oh, really? I mean, I guess that is what the scenario-ohhh—aah…”

Your mind goes blank as Shin pushes into you, and Shin’s finding it equally hard to think. He can never get used to how you feel around him—tight and hot and perfect—and it’s even more overwhelming this time thinking that he'll get you pregnant. The thought has him feeling so insane, he can't help but start fucking you immediately.

You gasp when he starts thrusting, driving his cock into you at an angle that has you curling your toes. Pleasure bursts in your mind as he hits your sweet spot, your pussy squeezing around him each time. He's touched you so many times, fucked you into oblivion so many ways, committed every inch of your body and mind to muscle memory—it’s easy for him to take you apart, force you toward a quick finish.

Your hole starts dripping uncontrollably, and your belly tightens in a way that short-circuits your thoughts. Shin reaches between your bodies before you can fully comprehend it, rubbing your clit until you’re whimpering.

Sometimes your mind sounds very needy when you’re about to climax—more more more, right there, right there, don't stop, don't stop—and sometimes you sound pretty depraved—that’s right, Shin, fill me up, wanna be your cum dump—and sometimes you sound very tender—please kiss me, please hold me, please be as close to me as you can—but right now, you just sound shocked.

A-already? you think, dazed, and before your brain can catch up with what he's doing, Shin presses down on your belly and grinds his cock against your g-spot and suddenly you're tearing up as you gush all over him.

It's so hard not to cum with you. Shin nearly has to resort to using ESP on himself to keep it from happening. But he fucks you through your orgasm without pause, and he doesn't really slow down until you're a hazy, fucked out mess. Every inch of your body is so wrung out from pleasure that Shin can't hear a single, coherent thought—just a mindless rush of dopamine—which means you're probably relaxed enough to take his cock just the way he wants.

He brushes his lips against yours, sweet and easy, before he says, “Let me know if this is too much.”

“Hmm?” Not ready to form real words yet, you think, What are you up to, Shin? and You can do whatever you want with my body, you know that now.

Shin answers by throwing your legs over his shoulders. You squeal when he practically folds you in half, grabbing at the sheets when he starts to move again. Your pussy tightens around him as he pumps his cock into you, your body eager for more even though you just came. Deep, you think, gasping, it's so deep—

Shin feels it when he hits your cervix, and he hears you thinking it too. You keen when he does it again, moaning at the feeling. Feels good, Shin, you reassure him, your fingers reaching for your clit. Keep going. It's all he needs to hear before he starts pounding into you again.

He feels like an animal when he fucks you like this. Can't think about anything other than how deep he is inside you and how completely he's going to fill you up, how you're going to be walking around with his cum inside you for days. You’re thinking about it too—please, Shin, want your cum in me, want it in my womb, want you to breed me, please, please, wanna give you a baby—

Shin groans, his hips stuttering to a halt as his cock starts twitching, and soon he's pumping thick ropes of cum into you. You follow not long after, you pussy milking his cock as you gush all over him. He lets it, too—stays inside you the whole time and makes sure that you take it all, the two of you kissing each other hungrily. Only pulls out once you're both spent, and you whine at the emptiness afterwards.

Your hole is stuffed so full that his cum drips out of you almost immediately; you make a small noise as you feel it soaking the sheets. Somewhat predictably, you reach in between your legs, spreading yourself to give him a show.

“You came so much,” you say. “I can’t keep it all inside me.” As if you even tried.

Shin is used to your cumshot displays, but he feels his throat go dry at the sight anyway. “Um…” He licks his lips, and he’s momentarily torn between cleaning you up with his mouth and pushing it all back inside you. “Aren’t there, um. Positions you're supposed to stay in after? To help. With keeping it in. To get pregnant, I mean.” At least Shin remembers this fact from one of the many breeding fics you read over the past week.

“Are there? Oops.” You give him a guilty look. “I didn't know that. I guess we're gonna have to do that all over again.”

Shin snorts. Figures. “I'm gonna need a few minutes,” he says. Then he lies down, pulls you with him. “I wanna hold you first anyway.”

You make a happy noise as you're wrapped up in his arms, his chest pressed against your back as he curls around you. Apparently still committed to your role, you grab your phone as you snuggle up to him and look up post-coital positions for couples trying to get pregnant. Shin watches you type on your screen, idly touching you all the while—his lips kissing your shoulder, his fingers running along the arc of your hip. “Oh, huh, you're right. I'm supposed to lie down and keep my lower body elevated…”

“Elevated?”

“Yeah, people put a pillow underneath their hips sometimes… or sometimes they put their legs up.”

He makes a face as he tries to imagine it. “Sounds uncomfortable. I feel like the pillow thing should be enough… not that I think it's gonna make a difference with how often you like to have sex, anyway.”

You laugh. “Kind of a wonder I'm not pregnant already, huh?” Then you give him a look that's supposed to be shy, but is a touch too playful to be convincing. “But hopefully I will be after this.”

Heat crawls up his neck as he listens to your thoughts. You're not even imagining anything especially filthy—just thinking about what it'll feel like to carry his child. Shin recognises some of your monologuing from a fanfiction you read two days ago, a lot of which is sort of sensual. But it's really the original, non-sexual bits that are doing a lot for him. Stuff like how you'll probably have really bad morning sickness, but you know Shin will be there to rub your back as you throw up. Or how you're worried about whatever weird cravings you’re going to get, but you know Shin will buy whatever snacks you want. Or how uncomfortable you'll be when your stomach gets huge and the baby starts kicking, but I bet Shin will be excited to feel that, though.

There's a long, heavy pause before you think, You're gonna be such a good dad, Shin. Because Shin is a good person, he's good to you and he's good to your body and he's good to everyone at the store. He’s going to be so good to his child, and he’ll be good to their mother, too.

Shin doesn't realise that his fingers are resting on your stomach until he feels you lay your own over his. He closes his eyes and imagines a life there, cradled beneath the hand that he once only used for killing, the laugh of a child carefree and loved, the sound of your voice welcoming him home at the end of the day—every day, for the rest of his life—and obviously it's just a roleplay, it's a roleplay and he's being a moron for thinking in marital hypotheticals, but he says, “I can't wait to start a family with you.”

You stiffen.

Shin blinks. He listens for your thoughts, but there's only a long, crawling silence, and then you bolt upright and say, “Resident Evil.”

His eyes go wide. He sits up, reaches out for you—“H-hey, what's wrong?”—but you're already slipping out of bed.

“Need to pee!” you squawk. “Don't want to get a UTI, y'know?” And then you're gone and the bathroom door is slamming shut.

Your apartment is small, just like most places in Tokyo. The washroom is well within 400 metres of the bed, so Shin can fully hear you crashing out in there. The thoughts are incomprehensible at first—garbled words, high pitched buzz, flashbulb images. Chain link fence. Bloodied knife. Needle in a child’s arm, a string of cranes hanging above their head. Zombies on a screen, Mario and Princess Peach. An older boy with white hair, pinching a crease into flower-patterned paper. Niisan left me they all left me they never wanted me. Nobody ever wanted me, except for Sei-nii but that was only to use me for missions so many missions I lost count. A dark room full of men, their jugulars slashed. Other men, other rooms over the years. There are so many of them, so many men inside my body using my body has Shin ever looked in my head and counted them all?

The sound of chimes in a convenience store. Your favourite place in the world. Then Shin at the stove, in an apron. He's so handsome. Now he's holding a baby, a little boy who looks just like him.

There's someone beside him, and it isn't you.

You turn on the shower, and the rush of water is loud so Shin can't hear the sad little noise you make with your throat, although you can probably hear everything in my head, right? Sorry. Please ignore me. I'll be normal in a minute.

Shin wants nothing other than to kick open the door to help you, but his guilt stops him. His regret at how invasive his powers are, at how he can't shut out your thoughts, so loud and raw, when you most need privacy. It's the least he can do to respect your wishes and leave you alone.

He sits on the bed, listens as the roil of your thoughts become a simmer and then still. The shower turns off. The toilet flushes. I really don't want a UTI. You wash your hands, count to ten, and you come out looking and sounding so calm that if Shin couldn’t read minds, he'd never guess that you just had a mental breakdown in the toilet.

“Hi,” you say neatly as you sit down, and Shin pulls you into a hug so suddenly that you yelp.

“I said to ignore my thoughts!” you whine, squirming in his grip, trying to get away.

Shin actively stops himself from sighing. “I don't need to hear your thoughts to know something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong. I'm fine! I'm normal. I'm very normal right now.”

He gives you a long, unimpressed stare, but you return it with the look of a prey animal about to bolt, and he realises he has to humour you.

“...alright,” he says, “you're normal. Nothing's wrong.” Shin watches you uncertainly, seeing the tension in your body, hearing the rush of blood in your skull. You're staring at your fingers, remembering how to fold the wings of a paper bird. Trying to focus on the motions and not the person who taught them to you. Trying not to let Shin see all the people you miss and all the things that weren't meant for you.

You find it hard to look at him, so he stares at the wall instead.

“Do you want to be left alone right now?” Shin guesses.

Your voice is very, very small: “...yeah.”

Shin’s brow knots, but he can't hear anything other than a vague emptiness from your heart now, and he shouldn't be listening anyway. Shouldn't exploit the fact that your mind is so defenseless around him.

He's pulling himself away when you say, “Wait.”

You’re visualizing escape routes out of the apartment right now. You'd beat Shin in each one, and you'd be able to disappear from Tokyo long before he could ever catch up to you. But you stay on the bed instead, fidgeting as you stare at your lap, and even though your face is calm, the flood of your thoughts is so scared and sad and hopeful that Shin finds his head and heart aching simultaneously. He wants crush you in his arms and say all the things you want to hear—and then all the things you need to hear, but don't know.

But he stops himself.

“If there are thoughts you want me to ignore,” he says, “then you'll need to say the ones you want me to know out loud.”

You wince. You trust Shin with listening to all your thoughts, but actually voicing them is something you're not very good at yet. Assassins are secretive by nature, and you were raised to be a killer. I’ll throw up if I say this, you think, face miserable.

“You'll throw up if you don't,” Shin points out, feeling your stress response in his brainstem.

You nearly look—and feel—physically pained when you say, “I… I’d like it if you stayed.”

Shin's not sure when his own heart started feeling so heavy, but he's relieved to feel the weight lift. “Okay.”

So Shin settles next to you in bed, and after a moment, you start to relax. The anxious chatter of your mind goes quiet. The old memories stop blinking at you. You try to focus on your boyfriend to further ground yourself. He has a handsome face so it's easy. He goes bright red at the thought, which makes you smile.

Shin cracks a joke, which makes you snort, and after that you crawl pretty eagerly back into his arms. You demand kisses and he happily obliges. Your fingers seek him out and he knows to hold your hand. You rest your head on his chest and you listen to him talk about all the goings-on the store, the upcoming movies he wants to see, the ryokan he's booked for the two of you, and now you're very drowsy.

People's thoughts get slippery and strange when they’re on the verge of sleep. Sometimes it's garbled nonsense, but sometimes it’s their unguarded feelings. Shin hears yours, faint and scared but so very, very tender:

Wasn’t raised for a life like that… Never even thought about it… But if it's Shin…

Shin wants to grab you and make you look at him. If it's Shin, what?! he wants to ask. Suddenly, he’s having insane thoughts about if you’d like to actually live together and when's the right time to get serious and come to think of it, Mr. Sakamoto wasn't much older than him when he got married, right? Maybe he's not crazy for having daydreams where your face is lighting up at a diamond ring that he got you. Not a fool for wanting to come home to you every night. Not losing his mind for thinking that it might be nice to have kids at some point down the line.

Not stupid for maybe sort of really wanting to have them with you.

It did make him feel like he was insane, when he first started having those thoughts. Shin had never contemplated any of that stuff before. He’d grown up in a lab. Drifted through life being rejected for his powers. Shot his own father and watched him die. The only person who looked out for him after that was Mr. Sakamoto, and then he dipped soon afterwards anyway. All this to say, Shin wasn’t exactly raised to expect that he'd someday have a family, either. Never even thought about it, because he was sure he'd never get it.

But even if he’s never expected such a life, Shin can’t help but hope for it when it comes to you.

He would really like to tell you all this, but by the time his own mental crashout is over, you're fully asleep and drooling on his chest. So deep in the REM cycle that when Shin tries to read your mind, he catches you dreaming about kissing him on the Yamanote line, giggling into his mouth as his ears turn red. Typical.

There's a ring on your finger, different from the pretend-play version you left in the washroom. This one’s got a diamond, simple but pretty. It suits you.

Shin commits the design to memory, and he decides to stay up a little bit longer, watching the dream with which you've trusted him.

END

notes: the funniest part of this fic to me is how much build-up was required for shin to try the most standard kinks on tumblr dot com. i am very sorry if you felt misled by the summary/tags, expecting to read something super kinky only to find that this fic was fairly vanilla. i blame shin.

also i know this is not my best writing </3 I actually lowkey wanted to delete it all at the midway point alskdfjsldfkj but we move. please do let me know if you liked it!!!!

[twilightkitkat]

I know people normally brand Wade as The Funny One, but can we talk about how they'd be as a comedic duo? While flirting? While fighting?

People oftentimes tend to stereotype Logan as The Straight Man, the guy who keeps a serious face no matter what. And while sometimes that can be true, if you look at his characterization in the movies and comics, that isn't always the case. I think that because his humor is more subtle and down-to-earth than Wade's they tend to overlook it entirely.

Wade's humor is more obnoxious and in-your-face. He uses a cheerful, dramatic tone to cue you in that he's trying to be funny. He makes pop culture references and rambles on and makes constant, non-stop commentary. He's meant to be entertaining and funny because it's his brand to be insane and nonchalant even in the face of danger.

Logan, on the other hand, has this very blunt, sarcastic humor. The type that requires you to think a second to get it. He'd make little quips and jabs, but either with a straight face or barely there grin, so it's harder to tell he's joking. His tone of voice is more deep and gruff, which we don't typically associate with being humorous, but he does tease enemies and joke and throw their lines back in his face and goad them.

These two together would drive everyone up the wall.

Everyone (the X-men, the enemies, Wade's friends) assumed that their interactions would be Wade making crude, obnoxious jokes and Logan telling him to shut up or acting annoyed but... that doesn't happen? Instead, Logan quietly laughs at Wade's antics or, even more shockingly, joins in.

Logan gets Wade's humor—relishes in it, even. He would find Wade funny when he makes stupid jokes at all the wrong times because he does it too but nobody pays attention because it flies over their head or he's too intimidating for them to really register his words.

(The only reason Logan was more serious in the movie was that he was a grieving, broken man who thought he was responsible for the deaths of his family. He felt completely alone. And yet, even then, he played along to some extent with Wade's jokes and acted baffled rather than genuinely annoyed unless it was a super inappropriate moment. And you could tell he found Wade funny and liked him talking by the end of the movie.)

These two would be sitting across the table and Wade would make some stupid joke and Logan would add onto it, straight-faced.

Wade would gasp and clutch his chest dramatically at someone taking the Ketchup from him before he was done and whine, "How could you!? The betrayal! I thought I could trust you, this is a crime of the highest degree! I should have you canceled on Twitter for the atrocities you just committed."

And Logan would shake his head, stoicly, and reply, "It isn't cool to steal, man. It feels good in the moment but you hurt other people."

And everyone would sit there like what the fuck? Did Logan just... play along with Wade?

(Logan was biting his cheek to not grin at their confused faces and Wade was practically cackling to himself.)

It'd be even funnier when they're fighting villains together.

"Watch out, babygirl! Daddy's going to save you!" Deadpool would scream, as he lunges in to stab the enemy as they have Logan pinned to the ground.

"Well, 'Daddy' needs to do a better fucking job at it," Logan would grunt as he threw the guy off himself.

Logan would be snarky, because that's his personality and sense of humor, but he'd play along. He'd commit to the bit so hard that the enemies would stop attacking for a second just to look at each other like, "Are you seeing this???"

"Wolvie, what did I tell you about your greasy tits? If you wanted to be a prostitute you could at least tell me so we could start an Onlyfans and monetize it," Wade would say after Logan's shirt got shredded in a fight.

"I'm not giving you a fucking cent of my Onlyfans money," Logan would grunt as he continues fighting.

"That's unfair! I'd be the best photographer out there, you need to pay me my fair share! This is a worker's rights violation!"

"Yeah, well, I'm the pornstar. I'm the one doing all the heavy lifting, you aren't entitled to shit."

And everyone would be like???? Did The Wolverine have an Onlyfans? Since when? And where could they find it—

It'd be funny to see them tear down the self-esteem of a villain together as they fought them.

"You look like Simon Cowell got dipped in a vat of acid and then grew out a mullet and got it cut by a 5-year-old on America's Got Talent just because their mom died of cancer," Wade would laugh and point at their appearance.

"That's being generous. At least Simon Cowell was attractive. More like a fucking muppet," Logan would add on.

And then they'd fight over whose interpretation was correct while the villain just stood there and took out a mirror to look at themselves because?? They didn't think it was that bad?? (It was.)

It'd actually give them the edge in fights because they'd baffle the villains so much. They'd either make them pissed off at not being taken seriously and therefore more sloppy, or just make them insanely self-conscious. Win-win.

Eventually, word on the street got around that Wolverine and Deadpool were a brutal duo. Verbally. There'd be villains telling stories about how they were disrespected and maybe an emotional support club "Fought Deadpool and Wolverine and survived on the outside but died on the inside."

They'd be a peak comedy duo that would become notorious for their chemistry (both in their fighting style and commentary).

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Hey guys the Worms are coming back so I’m having thoughts,

tw: a/b/o dynamics, major angst no aftercare, panic attacks, past abuse, military

I love the stories where the 141 (in a/b/o context) are all alphas or a mix, but I also haven’t seen much of them being all omegas, which I think would really make sense.

Imagine it, omegas are more sensitive to their surroundings I think, with sharper instincts and reaction time imo, and they’re probably smaller than the stereotypical alpha so they can move faster. They can stay relatively calm under pressure and suppressants deal with the issue of a heat. I’ve always more imagined the 141 as four omegas, but four that stand out, and are used to criticism from people not in the military that don’t understand their team bonds.

So imagine they one day get news of a new transfer onto their team (maybe replacing soap as he’s recovering from his bullet wound HES NOT DEAD MW3 NEVER HAPPENED) and they’re not worried until they’re told it’s an alpha. An American alpha, too, if I let this get really self indulgent. Americans are loud and proud and annoying, so they fear the worst, you could throw off their team bonds, or make fun of them, or mess up their missions, etc, etc.

But in this imaginary world imagine that omegas also have more societal power than alphas, not physical power though, and you happened to be a victim of alpha-abuse. So what if the alpha that comes is shockingly quiet despite your imposing height and strength, and even looks nervous. The 141 would be absolutely ready for a brawl, I think, scents stinking up the room, only for you to stiffen as your nose stings from the potent mix of scents.

They’d observe you the entire time of the initial scenting, your stiff posture, uncomfortable behavior, and most of all the odd texture and scarring of your scent gland on your neck. Not unusual in your line of work.

After that, they made it clear you were an afterthought.

They wouldn’t let you get them food in the mess, or let you enter their shared nesting area, or even linger in Price’s office. If you covered them on a mission they’d nip at you or give you little low growls. They didn’t like the change to it, having to adjust, or just wanted to prove that they didn’t need an alpha, especially not to replace Soap.

You were trying. You knew you had to work your ass off for their respect and trust, and you were trying so hard. They didn’t seem to care.

Before they’d met you, they’d never thought that an alpha could have anything similar to a distress, nothing even close to the physical and psychological damage and pure stress someone had to be put through to reach that point. That was, until, one day when Ghost yanked you down to his scent gland to take a whiff when you ask how he covers the gunpowder from missions in his scent (spoiler: he doesn’t) and you just completely…freak out.

Shoving him away, eyes wide and looking through him, heart rate and breathing too fast. You’d absolutely booked it to your lone, sterile room that was the opposite of their cozy nest. It had taken a good hour just for Price and the rest to drag a medic and find out what the hell was wrong, only for you to be diagnosed with “Cane Baker Condition”,

“It’s, essentially, a form of PTSD related to a secondary gender, or experiences with one in a negative light. Think like a panic attack that lasts until their body is convinced they’re safe. Keep them out of bright light, away from loud noises or anything triggering for them, and give them some recognizable items from the nest, and they’ll snap out of it.”

It was then that they’d realized you had no recognizable items. Because they’d not let you even have a chance to enter their nest, and here they were now. You, lying underneath your piss poor bed in a pitch black room with one blanket in a sad mockery of a nest for comfort, getting as close to a panicked whimper that an alpha could between every breath.

Now they had to figure out how to earn your trust and respect, especially after they’d given absolutely none to you, neglected and abused you, for weeks.

should I make this a series?? (midterms are almost over so I’ll be more active soon, so far I’ve passed all of them!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

[rainesol]

The way Riddle’s mental health gets treated in comparison to the other character’s mental health is really annoying sometimes.

Here’s the thing, Riddle apologises for lashing out REGULARLY. Most times when he catches himself becoming unreasonable, he stops, apologises, and makes a consistent effort to change for the better.

I’ve also seen people (mostly on tt) claim that he’s not understanding of other people’s struggles which is the opposite of the truth. He’s incredibly accommodating. He helps Cater study in a way he thinks will help most, taking possibly hours of his own time, showing understanding to his implied ADHD. He gives Deuce his own clear notes and help book on maths -zero questions asked- showing understanding to his implied dyscalculia and dyslexia. On the same topic, Riddle is very heavily implied to struggle with low-empathy, meaning he does in fact find it hard to put himself in other peoples shoes. (Idia literally calls him ‘Mr Zero EQ’ [en] or The man who can’t empathise with anyone [jp] as an insult during the GloMas event). Riddle was also one of, if not the most apologetic about his overblot.

Another thing to point out is that Riddle isn’t enforcing these rules for fun? He follows those ridiculous rules compulsively. He worries that if he’s not following these rules constantly, something bad will happen to him. (Which, in his experience, is correct.) Do people even realise how hard ignoring compulsions are? He also is commonly headcanoned as autistic. A few common symptoms of autism is to be very justice oriented and to follow rules to the t. This (shockingly) is inconvenient and causes a lot of struggle in the persons life.

Of course, none of these struggles are cute or fun, so nobody wants to acknowledge it. /s

[haleswallows]

DC x DP Dead Tired 'Fake Relationship' plot bunny

Alright, imagine me presenting you with this like a proud cat bringing you the hair tie I just murdered. (Anyone is welcome to add to this - to treat it like a prompt or to expand on it. Just, like, let me know so I can consume it with an unhinged fervor, thank you!)

Tim (no longer forever 17) finds himself in a bit of a situation. One being that he's really fed up with Dick and Barbara and Alfred and even Bruce being nosy. And why are they being nosy?

Because that's their love language. And also, because for some absurd reason Tim cannot discern, Dick got it in his head that Tim is lonely. Which, of course means everyone has accepted the mission to get Tim hitched.

Is it that Tim and Bernard broke up? Is it that Tim has gone stag to every charity gala for the last year? Is it that Bruce finally pulled his head out of his ass and made things work out with Selina? The world may never know.

What Tim does know is he isn't lonely. He's fine. Truly.

Enter Danny Phantom.

The ghost hero is interesting. Tim side eyes the guy pretty hard when he joins the Justice League. For a dead guy, he's pretty cheery and up-beat. Honestly, with all the quips & puns, he could have been a Robin in a past life.

Surprising absolutely no one, Nightwing and Phantom quickly become butt-buddies, joined at the hip, partners in crime. Tim is not jealous, no matter what Dick says. He has his own team, his own cases, CEO work, etc etc etc and even more etc. Great, Dick has a new friend.

Too bad for Tim, one of his cases overlaps with Phantom's 'jurisdiction'. No one will tell Tim what that means. No worries, Tim will find out. He always does.

Red Robin and Phantom team up. It goes... great. No grievous injuries, the case gets solved, Phantom takes the frankly disturbing relic of Red Robin's hands. Tim cares only in-so-far that the thing is out of Gotham and Phantom promises (so-signed by Batman? the actual fuck?) it will be safe and won't return to the human realm.

They're wrapping up in one of Tim's more 'civilian' passing safe-houses. Mostly because it was the closest, and Phantom said something about 'ley lines' and 'easier to open a portal'. Cool, whatever. Tim was going to burn this safe-house soon anyway.

Tim, as always, gets himself into trouble. Chronic Thinking Too Much Disease, they really ought to make a cure for it. He's reflecting, watching Phantom eat Cheerios right out of the box, sitting on the counter, looking like he belongs there. When the fuck did Tim get Cheerios?

There's no denying it. Tim liked working with Phantom. The guy is good in a fight, doesn't rely on his powers too much, and kept up with Tim. Not not physically, but intellectually. And he's shockingly earnest when he isn't being a trash-talking little shit.

So. Tim gets an idea.

"Hey," he says before he's even thoroughly thought it out, "we should date."

Phantom pauses, gloved hand suspended in the middle of shoving another handful of cereal into his mouth, wide eyed and gaping. Attractive.

"Huh?" he says, eloquently.

"Not for real," Tim scrambles to explain. "I mean fake dating. Just hang around some, be a bit performative, nothing out of masks. We can say we're taking things slow and break up. Nightwing keeps trying to set me up with a date. This will get him off my case."

"Oooooh." Phantom resumes inhaling cereal. Why a ghost needs to eat, Tim would like to know, but it's probably rude to ask. Slowly chewing, Phantom seriously thinks it over. "You know, the council has been bugging me too. About dating. This could work out for both of us."

Council? Tim would like to know why a council is interested in Phantom dating. So he asks.

Phantom sighs explosively. Finally, he sets the Cheerios down. "OK, so like, this is need to know basis only. I haven't even disclosed it to the League. And like, Nightwing only knows because he's my friend and the Observants crashed one of our mission and blew the lid."

Pulling a face, Phantom waves an arm in an arc over his head. A crown appears, spinning and shooting off beams of light like an Aurora Borealis.

"I'm the Ghost King. It's a whole thing, no I am not taking questions on it at this time. Well, technically, I'm the Prince of the Infinite Realms because I'm too young to take the throne. So, there's a council and a regent. Whatever, not important!"

Phantom claps, getting himself back on track. "What that means is there's a council and Observants that are really interested in my personal shit. Including who I date. But like, I'm enjoying my brat girl summer and being single right now, not that they care."

Tim blinks. Then blinks again, slotting the new information in place alongside everything he knows about Phantom. That's... something.

"That sounds annoying," Tim says, instead of one of the approximately 23 questions in his head that are quickly spawning more by the second. "Fake dating would solve both of our problems."

Because Tim is a professional, they make a contract. Phantom will remain Red Robin's boyfriend, since they're taking it slow and no secret identities will need to be disclosed. Tim doesn't ask why Phantom would have a secret identity... he's dead? Saves the question for the later.

Red Robin will remain Phantom's totally human badass vigilante boyfriend, since they're taking it slow and Tim won't be required to do anything in any capacity for the Infinite Realms.

Then they set boundaries. Date ideas, what they're comfortable with for PDA, how much they'll have to do to sell it.

"I mean," Phantoms says, again with a mouthful of Cheerios. "Clockwork monitors the timelines, so he definitely already knows what we're doing. And he hasn't intervened yet." When Tim gives him A Look, Phantom helpfully explains, "He only intervenes when I do something stupid enough that'll change the course of the multiverse. So," then shrugs, entirely too nonchalant for Tim's tastes.

"If Clockwork already knows, won't he say something to the council or the Observants?" The very Observants Phantom has guaranteed will pop in on Tim at some point. So Tim feels compelled to ask.

"Nah," Phantom says. He kicks his feet from where he's sitting on the kitchen table now, right at Tim's elbow. "He hates the Observants more than I do. I bet he loves this. He's always down to fuck with them."

Great. That's... great.

Nothing can go wrong, right?

[sabrinahawthorne]

Let’s Grow the RPG Hobby

Inspired by this post and the conversation surrounding it.

So the RPG world is facing a multitude of interconnected problems. Let’s talk about them, shall we?

---

1: The Problem(s)

Writing this, I find it hard to pinpoint a way to frame the subject of this post as a single thing. But it’s also impossible to treat it as it it’s a collection of separate problems. In reality, the issues facing the indie RPG world are A Hydra; a many-headed conglomeration of related issues, which each require organized, dedicated work to solve. A few examples:

The Normie-Indie Divide

A problem close to my heart, The Normie-Indie Divide describes the gradient between the mainstream of an artistic hobby and the really independent stuff. I compare this to movies a lot, but the more apt analogy is video games. The N-I-D in the videogame industry is so small as to be virtually nonexistent.

We can see this via a number of factors – one example being that the same outlets which cover massive blockbusters & sequels like Assassin’s Creed and God of War, also cover popular indie titles like Celeste and Hollow Knight. Then, freelance journalists who write for those publications (Jacob Geller is an example) go on to cover much smaller games on their own time, and so on. There’s a smooth gradient between the media coverage of the huge stuff, all the way down to a thriving (if still underserved) super-independant industry.

The N-I-D in RPGs feels uncrossable. The most well known RPG is so big it’s currenly riding the high of its second major hollywood adaptation in 20 years, and the second most popular – Vampire the Masquerade – is an unknown even to some indie RPG fans.* This hobby is shockingly impenetrable, even to those of us who spend our days swimming in the deepest end of the pool.

The Supply & Demand Problem

This one’s simple: People are pumping out RPGs by the truckload, and there are just too many! Not only does this make it hard to sift through everything to find the thing you want to read, play, or review, it also makes it nearly impossible to get anyone’s eyeballs on the cool thing you just released!

As others have pointed out, this problem is exacerbated by the fact that relative to some other art media, it’s pretty quick and painless to whip up your own zine or one-pager and publish it on itch. This disincentivises even the most invested of us from looking at a ton of new games, and means that sharing your work can feel like you’re being ignored by a huge crowd.

A Road To Solutions

If all of that is making you feel pretty bad for the future of this medium, you’re not alone. It can feel pretty hopeless facing all of these problems as an indie designer when all the tools you have at your disposal are a tumblr account and a few indie friends to complain to.

But the truth is, I think that this Hydra is eminently slayable. I just don’t think we can do it alone. That in mind, I’ve spent a large portion of my day putting together…

The Call to Action

I think there needs to be organized, persistent effort put into the future of this hobby and this industry, and I think it needs to start the way all good movements do: with a lot of petty, semantic argumentation over definitions and implementation. And to kick things off, here’s my step zero: If you’re reading this post because I’ve tagged you in it (or because I’ve sent you a link to it), my Dms are open. I want to put together a discord group chat† of my peers within RPG tumblr who are invested in tackling The Hydra, such that we can start brainstorming plans of attack to disseminate into the wider community.

The issues I wish to address are these:

The Normie-Indie Divide: How do we go about cultivating a casual audience of indie RPG fans who can bring sustainability and longevity to the industry?

The Supply & Demand Problem: How do we minimize the cognitive load of sorting through the huge volume of work extant in this medium, and more generally encourage peer-to-peer interaction within the community, like news coverage, reviews, and marketing?

The Cognitive Frontload Problem: How do we make it easier to actually engage with a given RPG, considering the amount of cognitive & temporal investment needed? Further, how do we make RPGs, both general and specific, more accessible to readers with a wide variety of abilities, preferences, and available time?

The Insular Community Problem: How do we better connect this hobby with itself, such that it feels a little less like several dozen cliques across 4-6 platforms, and more like the growing, evolving single hobbyist community that it is? Further, how do we make this hobby more accessible to newbies outside the influence of The Hegemons of the Coast?

And more. I’m positive I haven’t thought of everything, and that’s exactly why this needs to be a group effort.

As a last note: Please tag other people! The folks I’ve mentioned here are just those who I personally feel I know well enough to tag; let’s get the rest of the community involved! If you know someone who would be interested who isn’t on tumblr, they can email me: sabrinahawthornegames@proton.me.

*I’m not kidding. Multiple times within the last four months, I’ve introduced VtM to people who I would consider pretty in the sauce of RPGs. I’m talking folks who’ve played Heart: The City Beneath or Wanderhome. It’s bizarre.

†I need to stress that this is only a start. I’m not looking to start a big public discord unless that’s what a group of folks decide is the right call. By “group chat,” I mean “a chat which exists for long enough to hold 1-3 group voice calls to discuss and hash things out, before it’s dissolved in favor of the execution of whatever plans we devise.”

@theresattrpgforthat; @omophagic-beast; @ladytabletop; @rowansender; @monsterfactoryfanfic; @arsene-inc; @toyourstations

[codeword-art]

I adore Han's character for so many reasons it's hard to articulate it. I was annoyed by Hans in KCD at first, just as much as anyone would be. He seemed like a bully, some rich snobbish dick who existed to just be the villain in Henry's story.

Except he isn't that at all.

Hans challenges Henry to an archery competition and sword fight. If Henry wins either, or both, Han's doesn't react at all like a typical bully or self-centered character. He didn't demand a rematch, try to fight Henry, or accuse him of cheating, and he doesn't even degrade Henry further out of embarrassment. Han's just goes "Damn, I must be having an off day." That is shockingly humble for someone that came at Henry so strongly before.

Our interactions with Hans from then on, and into KCD2, continue to show that Hans is a surprisingly calm, kind, and thoughtful man. He's chill as hell for a nobleman. He takes the death of his people hard. Not even forgetting about them much further into KCD2, when it'd be alright to never mention it again at that point. He even feels sorry for the people in some unknown burnt village that he has no ties too. Just the thought of that destruction and death hurts his heart.

He changes his language towards Henry's dog when he realizes how much Mutt means to Henry and even promises to help Henry look for mutt in the second game (even if that didn't pan out). He is relatively cordial with people if he has a good relationship with them and becomes shy and nervous with older and more powerful company.

He's even a romantic. Hans seems like a lecher, going from woman to woman, flirting with ladies of all classes as long as their appealing to him, but deep down he craves passion and romance like in the fairytale stories. We can see this in his romance arch with Herny, and even in KCD when he's deep in thought about going to Trosky and he tells Henry he's never had a true love before.

His actions betray his words as well. Hans will call Henry a peasant, blacksmith boy, and so on. He pulls rank on Henry often, but then he turns around and will look past anything and everything Henry does.

Oh, you stole my keys from me? That's hilarious, keep them.

You want to sleep in my bed? Go ahead I don't care.

You messed up my chance with Karolina? Whatever, she probably sucked anyway. Here, take this love poem I wrote.

You didn't win the tournament in my name like I asked? Well, that's okay, you tried your best!

There is no reason for Hans to be treating Henry with such good faith, or as equals. Hans doesn't care though. He likes Henry, a lot. The man imprinted on Henry like a duckling, and he's a ride or die for that dirty goofy blacksmith's boy.

Hans isn't perfect either. He's insecure, jealous, sometimes a coward, is a bit socially inept, and quick to pull rank when he feels attacked. Which are all side effects of his environment and the way he was raised by Hanush, who also exhibits similar personality traits. He's a bit spoiled yes, but he also likes to spoil others. He gifts Henry little things all the time, and it's clear gift giving is a love language of his. Like a little magpie, he finds all the shiny baubles and shares them with his favorite person in the whole wide world.

Hans parades around like an arrogant selfish nobleman, but deep down he's a young, fun loving, kind, and passionate man. I could write about him for ages.

[sturnioz]

shy!reader making fratboy!chris study with her so he can actually focus and pass his classes without always having her share her notes with him. things go in a different direction n shy!reader is sucking on the tip of fratboy!chris' dick when he gets an answer right or actually memorized something !!! idk just a thought

chris is not good at concentrating. on top of that, he hates studying; finds it useless and pathetic, would definitely much rather do anything else than study. his only reason for passing any of his classes is that he relies heavily on matt, who more often than not does the work for him, or he copies the answers from your organized notes that you leave for him, which contain everything he needs to pass.

it stresses you out just a bit — the weight of your own work feels overwhelming, especially as it piles on top of the responsibility of making sure that chris' notes are completed. it's a heavy burden that presses down on your shoulders, and honestly, you're growing tired of doing the majority of the work. you want him to learn, to grasp the material, and to memorise what he needs to understand on his own.

"why should i learn all this shit if i got you 'n matt doin' everythin' f'me?" chris huffs during a study session, flipping the textbook off his lap with a loud thud as it hits the floor. "m'takin' the easy way out, kid. why would i do it the hard 'n pointless way?"

"you need to stop making me and matt help you," you murmur as you bend down to retrieve the textbook, holing it tightly as you meet his gaze.

chris snorts, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans closer. "kid.. m'not makin' you do anythin'. i don't think i've even asked you for help once... s'just you handin' me your fancy little notes on your own."

his words cut deeper than you'd like to admit. it's true; he's never verbally asked for your help, it's more of you noticing his lack of effort and feeling compelled to offer your own support by taking the initiative to write the notes.

still, the realisation makes you pout and turn away, frustration bubbling inside you as you grapple with the truth of his statement.

"alright, look. you... you want me t'learn? fine. i can do that, but uh... but you have to do somethin' for me, yeah?" the sound of a proposition catches your attention, prompting you to slowly turn your head and meet his gaze. chris tilts his head to the side slightly, a glimmer in his eyes as he leans closer. "every time i get an answer right — or remember somethin'... you owe give me a kiss."

your heart skips a beat, and your eyes dart to his lips as his suggestion, the warmth flooding your cheeks. but chris lets out a deep chuckle, shaking his head.

"nah... nah, kid. wasn't talkin' about that."

is doesn't take you long to be between his legs, your knees sore from the wooden floorboards digging into your bones with your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock — gone from giving him sweet, little kisses to sucking him whenever he managed to get a question right.

there are tears in your eyes from the times he's been nestled deep in your throat, and you're unable to see him through watery vision, but you can feel him — stroking your cheek or cupping the back of your neck to keep his cock jammed down you throat.

shockingly, chris somehow got every question right. no mistakes, no fumbles of words, no breaks.

he got everything.

[lrithill]

NSFW ARTphabet Headcanon: The Sacred Clown Porn Manuscript (A-I)

Welcome, faithful deviant, to the Sacred Manuscript of Underground Clown Porn.

This isn’t just any alphabet.

This is a ritual.

A love letter to the character.

A deep, filthy, sensual, and brutal exploration of the soul—and body—of Art the Clown.

Letter by letter, orgasm by orgasm, cumshot by cumshot.

In this chapter, you'll find tenderness, obsessions, bed monsters, cum (lots of it), dirty little secrets, dumb luck, emotional damage, genital torture, period blood, clown-level goofiness, Christmas lights… and yes—even Jesus makes a guest appearance.

Here you got the second part (J-Q):

https://www.tumblr.com/lrithill/780916090799783936/nsfw-artphabet-headcanon-the-sacred-clown-porn?source=share

And the third part (R-Z):

https://www.tumblr.com/lrithill/781563844942249984/nsfw-artphabet-headcanon-the-sacred-clown-porn?source=share

Enjoy, my doomed and blessed soul.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Sometimes, after the act, he just lies there—completely still, watching you. With those empty eyes that somehow, still say too much. You’re never sure if he’s processing what just happened… or deciding whether he should smother you with the pillow. After all, he’s deeply antisocial, and the idea of affection is something he doesn’t quite get.

But instead of leaving, he clumsily moves closer to you. The only thing he understands is that he likes the warmth of your body next to his, the feeling of skin against skin… it’s something entirely new to him.

It’s not a learned gesture, not romantic: it’s instinctual. Like an animal who doesn’t understand what he feels, but lets it guide him anyway.

All of this confuses and overwhelms him. Since he has no idea how to express emotion, he simply does what his body tells him to do—which is usually to bask in this strange sensation that makes him feel something, close to... peace?

In those moments, you might notice a slight tremble in his hands. Not out of fear, but from sheer sensory overload. It’s all too much. Too much heat. Too much closeness. Too much you. And yet, he stays.

And somehow, he’s warm. Shockingly so. He curls up beside you and pulls you tight against him, like he’s trying to fit two puzzle pieces together—pieces that don’t seem like they should fit, and yet… they do.

Until one day… he just doesn’t stay. Those emotions frighten him, wound him—like an arrow straight to the heart. It hits too hard, and all he wants is to flee back to the cold safety of his solitude (for his sake, and for yours).

But he always comes back—with heart still beating in his hands. As if to say:

“I don’t know how to love… but the idea of losing you scares me more than love ever could”.

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your hands. No doubt about it.

He adores your hands. Since he’s mute, he needs to interact with you in the most physical way possible—and that leads him to constantly reach for your hands.

He kisses them like a gentleman kisses a lady, in a gesture heavy with intention.

He takes your hand to lead you places; he likes walking hand in hand with you everywhere.

Even when you sleep together, his fingers search for yours in the dark—especially when you’re spooning.

Before you shared a bed, he used to sleep in the most unexpected places.

One of his favorites: under your bed.

Many times, you’d see his hand timidly crawling up to the edge of the mattress, climbing like a snake... just so you’d grab it.

Even if he was down there.

And you were up here.

(Art: the monster under your bed who just wants to hold your hand.)

And when you make love... feeling your hands clawing down his back while he loses himself in your body, your nails leaving red trails on his pale skin—that melts him.

And don’t even get started on when you go down on him: your hands take him straight to heaven. Stroking his length up and down, massaging his balls, touching his abdomen, pressing into him, squeezing— his eyes roll back in ecstasy. 

He can’t help but close them and moan, mouth hanging open in wordless pleasure, submissive under your touch.

(Bonus points if your nails are painted.)

As for the part of his own body he likes the most: His smile—or better yet, his whole mouth.

He’s fascinated by how many emotions he can express with it without saying a single word: cruelty, mockery, satisfaction, sarcasm, affection...

He has a blast doing his makeup. He’s an artist, and when he sees his masterpiece take shape in the mirror—in the worst way possible—he can’t help but grin even wider. He’s a simple, happy man. Just eager to go out and spread some fear.

He loves pulling faces at you, watching your every reaction. Most of the time it’s to make you laugh, but sometimes... he likes to scare you.

He doesn’t want you to get too comfortable—he likes reminding you who he is… and that you’re never completely safe around him.

But above all, he loves playing with his victims: laughing maniacally as they bleed out on the floor, begging for help in vain. Watching them freeze when he opens his eyes wide and shows all his teeth… He knows exactly what kind of nightmare his face is.

Though to you, it’s a dream.

(And needless to say… he’s very skilled with it. Every inch of your body can confirm.)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Hot, thick, and absolutely obscene in volume.

He cums with force—shooting white ribbons of pleasure with abandon throughout his orgasm —which, by the way, is far from brief—, painting the walls of your pussy as you milk him dry.

He loves cumming deep inside you. At the height of climax, he presses his body against yours with desperate intensity, like he wants to fuse with you—like he wants to slam through your cervix and spill straight into your womb.

It’s his way of claiming you—because he’s going to be the first and last man you ever fuck—and he’ll make damn sure to own you in every possible way.

Of course, cumming inside isn’t the only way he marks you.

When you’re going down on him, he’s not letting you off easy. You’re going to swallow everything.

He’ll hold your head in place, press your face against his pelvis, savoring the way your throat tightens and gags around his throbbing cock as he unloads down your throat.

He’ll fuck you until you say stop.

Until his balls ache.

Until his cum turns almost clear…

And eventually, the only thing coming out of his cock sounds like a cry for help—if you listened closely, you might hear it whisper: “Help me…”

The only reason you’re not pregnant is because his sperm are so violent, they probably kill each other while still inside his balls.

But beware: if one of them does reach your egg… it’s only because it murdered all the others.

And whatever creature you give birth to… will definitely be worse than its father.

D = Dirty Secret (pretty self-explanatory—a dirty secret of theirs)

Total submission.

Art is dominant. Possessive. Aggressive.

Sometimes he acts submissive—like when you ride him or suck him off—but he’s always in control. He can put you in your place at any moment, and you know it.

But there’s a part of him—buried deep inside—that craves losing control. Completely.

He fantasizes about you tying him up. Wrists and ankles, bound and helpless. His mouth gagged. His eyes blindfolded. Whether it’s in bed or strapped to a chair—handcuffs, duct tape, rope… whatever it takes to keep him from touching you—or touching himself.

So obedient.

He’s obsessed with the idea of ruined orgasm:

You riding him, stroking him, sucking him—bringing him to the very edge and then… stopping.

Leaving him panting.

Twitching.

Desperate for a friction that never comes.

Dragging him back down from climax, again and again, for hours, until he’s nothing more than a trembling mess of nerves, aching for release.

And when you finally let him cum… it doesn’t end there.

You keep going.

Jerking him off without a second of rest. Not letting him breathe, not giving him his refractory period.

You punish him past the orgasm—milking him to the limit.

Chasing as many orgasms as his body can take, one after another, until he doesn’t know whether it’s pain or pleasure anymore.

And just to top it off: a Venus 2000 locked tightly onto his limp cock—sucking him relentlessly, with no mercy, no rest, no purpose but to break him.

Not for pleasure.

But simply to ruin him.

He imagines you using all kinds of toys on him.

Because that’s the other thing: secretly, he wants you to fuck him.

He wants you to peg him.

You, in a strap-on, setting the rhythm—pounding his prostate—while you jerk him off… or maybe not even that.

A chastity cage would be perfect too. Tight. Uncomfortable.

Making him feel… nothing.

His skin bristles just thinking about it. His cock leaks precum, twitching with each forbidden fantasy, trembling for a touch that never comes.

Sometimes, when you’re asleep, he watches you.

And he imagines what it would be like if you tied him to the bed.

If you said: “I’m going to turn you into a slut.”

And he hates it.

And he loves it.

And he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with any of it.

Just once… to be the tortured, instead of the torturer.

But then he gets up. Frustrated.

And digs his nails into his skin—punishing himself for having such weak thoughts.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He has no experience at all—at least, not with living human beings.

He was taught not to see people as potential partners.

Literally, when he saw an “attractive” woman—say, one with big tits—his first thought wasn’t “I’d fuck her.”

It was: “I want to rip those off and hang them on a clothesline.”

Like someone might hang a bra.

He’s always seen people as meat. As toys for his amusement. As prey.

“Can a wolf feel sexual attraction toward a rabbit?” That’s what it felt like for him.

But then you came along.

And no—it wasn’t love at first sight.

There was no miraculous, romantic awakening. Not even close.

You just had the dumb luck to cross paths with him at a moment when he was too weak to kill you.

Normally, he wouldn’t have hesitated: He would’ve sliced you open and eaten your body from the inside out.

But you got lucky.

And that, combined with the fact that you never asked questions, never challenged him… meant he started to tolerate you.

To use you for his own benefit.

And yet…

Turns out he did eat you after all—face buried between your thighs, not your organs.

F = Favorite Position (this goes without saying)

Art is very flexible when it comes to positions.

Literally—he can do them all.

He even invents new ones, like the inverted scarecrow (see under 'O'), his personal signature.

But he has a favorite.

Fucking you from behind.

(And no—we’re not necessarily talking about anal… though that’s certainly on the table.)

Whether it’s in bed, standing, bent over a counter, on all fours, against the wall— he doesn’t care, as long as he gets you like that.

And if there’s a mirror in front of you? Even better—watching your whole body as he takes you is an art form.

And if you’re on your period…

That’s the cherry on top.

Seeing your blood drip down your thighs, smearing it across your body like he’s painting his favorite canvas… it drives him insane.

From this position, he can do everything that unhinges him:

—Bite your neck, your shoulders, your back…

—Yank your hair back to expose your throat, watching your veins pulse beneath your skin.

—Grab you wherever he wants: hips, tits, neck, ass…

—Pin your wrists behind your back—or chain them above your head, anchored to the ceiling.

—Spread your legs open, sometimes with a spreader-bar.

—Stimulate your clit with his fingers and your G-spot with his cock at the same time.

—Kiss you and swallow the way your moans break against his mouth.

Sometimes it’s brutal.

Sometimes it’s slow and devastating.

And sometimes… he just wraps around you.

Like he doesn’t want anything in the world to touch you—except him.

It’s a simple position. Primal. Possessive. Intimate…

Because from behind, he can hold you. Push into you. Devour you.

And make you feel that—even when you can’t see him— he’s always there.

And that’s the most revealing part.

You can’t see his face.

You can’t witness the kind of pleasure that undoes him. The kind that shakes him from the inside out.

The kind that leaves him trembling.

The kind that doesn’t match the image of the irredeemable monster he wants you to believe in.

Because if you did see him— If you really saw his face when he moans, when he cums, when he softens with love he didn’t ask for…

He might lose some of his power.

Or worse: You might actually love him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Art is a clown.

And not just a clown. A professional one—he never breaks character.

So yes… expect him to be goofy in bed.

The horn is coming into the bedroom—whether you want it or not.

Since he can’t moan out loud, he uses it to simulate moans, perfectly timed to his thrusts.

Honk! Honk! Honk!

He’ll also bring in every kind of toy imaginable to recreate every sound possible—Art will make you question if stepping into that pet store was ever a good idea.

And of course, it always makes you laugh.

When he strips for you, he gives you a full-blown striptease.

He encourages you to play music—just don’t let him pick the playlist, unless you want a bizarre remix of crying babies and static noises.

He’s shameless when it comes to playing with “sexy outfits.”

“Is that a wig, Art?” you ask, barely able to breathe from laughing.

He shakes his finger at you, pops it in his mouth, then winks— while still doing the helicopter (with full sound effects).

Let’s just say: Art’s not a fan of synthetic hair. He likes it… natural.

He’s obsessed with roleplay.

So get ready for full theatrical productions between the sheets.

Since he got that Santa suit, you’ve already played an elf, a reindeer, a snowman, an angel, a bow-wrapped gift, a cookie (remember that scene with Lord Farquaard?), even Jesus (he literally wanted Jesus to suck his dick.)

And who knows what comes next…

Of course, you love every second of it.

You two joke about going to Broadway someday— maybe you’ll win a Tony… or kidnap one.

Either way works.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He has no body hair at all. Just a fine layer of pale fuzz, almost imperceptible—after all, his body is still human.

(He used to have hair on his head, too… until he died.)

Any other man might feel insecure about that. Might think it makes him look too feminine.

But he doesn’t care.

In fact, he likes it that way.

Hair would itch. It would get in the way. He’d have to shave constantly, and that would be a pain in the ass.

He doesn’t have time to worry about things like that.

He has more important things to do…

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

There’s an invisible line Art never crosses.

And while he loves pushing you to the edge—making you tremble, cry, scream his name like you’re about to shatter—he never actually breaks you.

He’s the kind of man who can drag you to the cliff’s edge… but he never pushes.

Not because he couldn’t.

But because he won’t.

Art wants you in a way he wants no one else: vibrant, happy, alive.

He wants you laughing between moans, begging him to stop and not stop at the same time.

He’s obsessed with watching you suffer from pleasure—and he knows that for every rough moment, he’ll make up for it with the best orgasms of your life.

But if the suffering stops being pleasure—if it ever becomes true pain—he stops.

He watches you with a terrifying level of focus.

Even when he seems distracted.

Even when he’s laughing.

Even when he’s completely absorbed in stuffing a 1000-watt string of Christmas lights up your ass so he can light you from the inside and turn you into a disco ball possessed by the spirit of holiday cheer…

He knows.

Your breath.

Your eyes.

Your pulse.

Your voice.

And when something changes—when the spark in your pupils flickers for even a second (yes, even with the lights inside you—it’s hard to see, but he sees it)—he stops.

He caresses you.

He kisses you.

He holds his personal holiday decoration abomination like it’s something sacred.

And he looks at you, with sincere tenderness and a crooked smile, as if asking:

“Am I still your worst best decision?”

If you say yes, he finishes decorating you with a star on top of your head.

If you say no, he takes the lights out.

He makes you laugh.

He makes you a post-sex milkshake.

Or he cleans you with a damp cloth, absurdly gentle—like you’re a marble statue.

Because at the end of the day, beyond the chaos, the sadism, the prop addiction… Art adores you.

And everything he does is to watch you enjoy yourself.

To hear you laugh.

To make you shine (literally).

Like you’re his favorite performance.

His light.

And when it comes to sex, there are days when Art gets unexpectedly soft—so sweet it takes you off guard.

You never know if he’s about to ask you to do something deplorable—like kidnapping children, fattening them up, and cooking them for next Thanksgiving—or if, by some miracle, he’s become the most romantic, domestic man on Earth.

He takes you in missionary.

Because he loves your mouth.

Because he loves kissing you while he fucks you like a desperate lover.

His arms wrap around you completely.

Your bodies melt together.

There’s no telling where one ends and the other begins.

You can hear him panting in your ear, breath wild—a faint whisper, almost imperceptible, that still says so much.

You can’t help but touch him the whole time—his scarred back, his soft arms, his beautiful face…

And you look into his eyes.

And he looks back.

And he doesn’t need words to tell you he loves you—in his way—but he does.

He doesn’t need words to thank you.

Thank you for surviving him.

Thank you for surviving his love.

Thank you for reading all the way to the end. I hope I made you blush, laugh, horny, suffer, or scream to the sky.

I'd love to know if you'd like to see any of these letters developed into future fanfics.

Would you like to see Santa Art spanking someone dressed as a reindeer, as if urging his sleigh forward?

Would you like to live out Art’s total submission fantasy?

Would you like Art to shove Christmas lights up your ass and turn you into his human Christmas tree?

I'm open to all kinds of requests, of course. Though I seriously doubt anything you suggest will top what’s already here… (and we still have a whopping 17 letters to go).

For those who just can’t wait, the full alphabet is already up on AO3. You’ll recognize it when you see it.

Here you got the second part (J-Q):

https://www.tumblr.com/lrithill/780916090799783936/nsfw-artphabet-headcanon-the-sacred-clown-porn?source=share

And the third part (R-Z)

https://www.tumblr.com/lrithill/781563844942249984/nsfw-artphabet-headcanon-the-sacred-clown-porn?source=share

[venussaidso]

Mekhi Alante Lucky and Jeremy Meeks are two male models who got spotted from their mugshots.

It's very likely that they could both have Ketu-ruled Moons — Mekhi Alante Lucky with Mula Moon and Jeremy Meeks with Ashwini Moon.

The 'reformed delinquent' is something I've noticed a lot for Ketuvians, especially the men. For example, Ashwini Moon Matt Dillion was discovered by a casting agent while bunking off school, being rebellious early on — only to then play an actual delinquent fictional character. “I wasn’t in class, you could say that. I think why I ended up doing that movie was because I connected so much with the character. I recognized this kid, he was a juvenile delinquent – he was in a much worse place than I was, probably.”

This took me back to the character Roi, from the Spanish series Berlin, played by Mula Moon Julio Peña. Roi is literally a reformed delinquent — I touched on his character a bit more in my post Ketu Dominant Themes — 𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 (part 2) 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝟑.

And Roi randomly reminded me of Fontaine from They Cloned Tyrone, who's played by Magha Moon John Boyega. Fontaine's initial purpose of existing is to be a hard ass drug dealer, maintaining the cycle of violence and stagnancy within his community — which he means to transcend when he discovers that everything about his role in his town is simply manufactured.

This arc supporting the reformed delinquent.

Also, Matt Dillion talking about bunking school reminded me of an old guy friend of mine that I went to high school with throughout. He had Ashwini Moon. He used to bunk class regularly since the ninth grade, and was a heavy drinker already. He was always caught up in violence and conflict. I'm not sure if he's reformed, but last time he drunk called me at night before a school exam, telling me he accidentally stabbed someone– that person is luckily alive. Anyway, not all Ashwini natives will be like this or are like this — before someone lectures me in the comments. But he was a dangerous individual. Unfortunately, at that time, I didn't see that side of him fully. We used to walk together everyday after school, we would talk about everything and anything. The potential to reform or rehabilitate is there [but I don't trust men to change].

And just last year, I encountered a Magha Moon guy, who is the ex boyfriend of my Magha stellium friend. We were all talking about some random shit before he started talking about dark stuff. He looked me straight in my eyes and told me he stabbed his stepdad the year before. He's a very scary individual, and unfortunately I still cross paths with him on campus. Being random as I am, I had asked for his birth details upon first meeting — because his ragged appearance looked very Martian/Ketuvian and I just wanted to confirm my suspicions. His nature is very, very draining and abusive.

Ashwini Moon Dennis Rodman has been also known for his delinquent antics for his entire career, never caring for others and what others think. This level of detachment from Ketu definitely makes these individuals possibly dangerous as they don't care about rules or crossing boundaries. For example, Rodman had been attacking cameramen while he's literally playing in the game [basketball] — one day he violently kicked a cameraman in the groin and got this guy hospitalized, paying him $200,000 in settlement.

Mula Sun, Ashwini Moon Jared Leto is also known for being creepy & abusive towards his cast members and other celebrities. He's also a cult member. He's also known for attacking his fans.

And finding out that Suge Knight has Sun in Ashwini was quite shockingly validating as he reminds of that former Ashwini guy friend of mine. Suge Knight has always been violent since high school, being kicked off football teams due to his headless nature and drive to cross the lines — always using the game as an excuse to destroy his opponents, but gaining nothing material at all from it. This is extremely Ketuvian of him, as his Moon is conjunct Ketu as well. And his Ketu is exalted, being in Jyestha nakshatra.

Also, you might notice that Venus nakshatra natives will have an overlap with Ketu nakshatra natives. I know for sure that Venusians can be inclined to violence. Chris Brown is the most typical Venus nakshatra man I could think of right now.

Sidereal fire signs, and sidereal Scorpios, tend to show up in people who behave dangerously. Xxxtentacion had sidereal Scorpio Moon, and he was a delinquent.

Erykah Badu has sidereal Scorpio ASC.

[oni-gory]

Genshin boys in heat! PT. 1

ᡣ𐭩 characters: Tighnari x afab reader

ᡣ𐭩 cw: Minor writing smut, penetration, public sex, masturbation (kinda?), Switch Tighnari

ᡣ𐭩 notes: New series of oneshots! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵) my posting schedule is so inconsistent omg yall im so sorry— 😭

Tighnari

You and Tighnari were nothing but coworkers, both of you were members of the Vanara that often bumped into each other. Well, that’s how you saw him at least. Tighnari on the other hand, found you quite attractive. He was interested in you, but knew better than to pursue his romantic ambitions. Especially with a coworker. So he just often caught himself staring at you.

One morning, while you were getting ready to go patrol with some other forest rangers, you bumped into Tighnari. But… he was acting strange. His face was very red and he seemed really fidgety. You tried to apologize nonetheless, “Oh- I’m sorry Tighnari! Uhm… are you alright.?” You asked, but Tighnari didn’t respond. He just quickly pushed past you and hurried away into the forest. That made you really worried. So instead of going on parol like you were assigned to, you went looking for Tighnari.

After searching most of the areas you knew he frequented, you ended up wandering around the forest by the Gandharva Ville. That was when you heard panting coming from a… tree? You approached quickly, worried that it was an injured animal. But when you peeked your head past the tree, you instead saw the Forest Watcher. He was leaning against the tree, sweating profusely while gripping a bulge in his pant. Your face flushed red and you quickly looked away, hoping to quietly sneak away and pretend it never happened. But all of a sudden Tighnari grabbed your hand.

His sense of smell was outstanding, and it seemed he noticed you. Tighnari looked up at you with a red face, a desperate look in his teary eyes. “I-I’m sorry.. plea—please help..” He begged you, pulling on your arm. Despite his appearance, Tighnari was shockingly strong. You struggled to find the words, not wanting to say yes… but he looked so desperate. Tighnari seemed like he needed you. So you feebly nodded, mumbling an embarrassed response, “Okay.. Uhm- What do you need.?” Tighnari looked around to make sure nobody could see him before leading your hand to the bulge in his pants. Just you touching him, even through his clothes made the Forest Watcher shiver.

Your face was red while you continued touching him through his clothes, listening to Tighnari’s whimpers. He moved from laying back against the tree to laying back against you. “Moree..” He whined, sweating while trying to make you remove his pants. You bit your bottom lip before removing his pants. This entire situation was so embarrassing… But for some reason Tighnari was to blinded by his lustful heat, which you were still oblivious to. His hard cock was poking out of his underwear, longing to be released. You let out a shaky breath when seeing it, surprised by how large your supervisors cock was. Your hands trembled, pulling his underwear down to his knees so you could get a better look at it. You felt so perverted as your fingers wrapped around his lengthy dick. Tighnari’s eyes rolled back into his head as he lifted his head, letting it rest on your shoulder. He was so sensitive..

You were standing in the middle of the forest jerking off the Tighnari of all people… This was insanity. But his sweet moans clouded your mind, distracting you from the thoughts running wild in your head. You got the chance to focus on just pleasuring him, swirling your fingers around his tip and watching as the green eyed man whimpered. He was getting a bit loud, and Tighnari noticed. He covered his mouth, muffling his moans just barely. He even started breathing heavier, and you could tell he was about to reach his edge.

Then, just as you thought, a rope of sticky white cream bursted out of Tighnari’a cock. He hyperventilated, tears trickling down his cheeks after the intense pleasure. Your hand was now a mess, and so were your panties. Your eyes were locked on his still hard cock while Tighnari tried to collect himself. “T—tha..Thank yuo…" He mumbled, leaning against a tree. His face was flushed with blush and a bit of tears and Tighnari didn’t notice that you had bent down onto your knees until you gripped his sensitive cock. The Forest Watcher let out a yelp, his ears drooping against his head. "W-what are you d— oh archons~..” He shivered, biting his bottom lip as you opened your mouth and began to suck on his cock. Tighnari’s legs trembled, feeling sensitive after his orgasm. But even still, He wanted more. Much more than only your mouth. He wanted to breed you.

It had been an hour since the two of you were gone, and none of the others forest rangers knew what was happening between the both of you. They had no idea that by now, Tighnari had you against a tree, ramming his cock inside of your cunt desperately. He was holding your legs up even after your protests against it, clearly determined to breed you. “Ti—Tighnariii~!! Too— too much~..” You moaned out, gripping the tree in an attempt to stabilize yourself. Tighnari had his face nuzzled in your shoulder, smelling your arousal, which only fueled his thrusts. You continued to moan until you heard his muffled voice, “You’re being too… loud.." Then you made an attempt to quiet down by covering your mouth with your hands. He was fucking you like a rabid dog, and honestly, he basically was one. Tighnari began to feel your pussy clenching around him, and he noticed your back was arching. So he decided to try pounding into you deeper, feeling his own orgasm reaching near. All of a sudden, you felt the Forest Watcher’s cum overflowing in your pussy, dripping onto the grass. As the high of your orgasm ended, you knew that the two of you wouldn’t just stay coworkers.

[florencebirdsong]

Sink or Swim

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Agatha All Along Week 2024 - Day 4

summary: you're caught stealing from captain harkness. She's kind enough to offer you a choice: walk the plank or learn how to use your quick fingers for something else

tags: pirate au, fingering (a receiving), finger sucking, oral fixation, light hair pulling

authors note: i’m aware of the historical and clothing inaccuracies shhhhhhhh stop thinking about it you’ll ruin the immersion

ao3 | masterlist

The yelling has stopped. You’re pretty sure they were lowering the anchor but the swell of the waves tell you that you’re far from a dock. Your stomach sinks. Pirates stopping in the middle of the ocean can mean one of two things. They’re raiding another ship or they’re getting the plank out. The lack of fighting sounds tells you which it is.

The captain kicks the door open. You scramble out of the way as she marches in. Agatha Harkness. The most wanted pirate in England. Finally, you have a face to the name. Not that it will do you much good out here.

She raises an eyebrow expectantly at you, looking unfairly good in her uniform. You aren’t sure what she’s waiting for.

“You stole from me,” she says when she finally gives up waiting.

“Sorry?” you try.

It’s not like you knew it was her. There’s few who’d risk stealing from Agatha Harkness. But the lack of her portrait is her whole schtick and it’s what turned a tiny bit of thievery, a week in the slammer at most, into a walk-the-plank situation.

She huffs a laugh and walks further into the room, sitting on the single chair. You don’t bother making for the door as it falls shut, unlocked. The ship is crawling with her crew and you’re no doubt far from shore.

“I almost didn’t notice you,” she says. Is that a good thing? You look slightly to the left of her. Not sure if she’ll see it as a challenge if you look directly at her or rude to avoid her gaze. “You’ve got two choices,” she says. Well, at least there’s some hope. “Walk the plank or learn to use your skilled fingers for something more useful.”

That makes you look at her. Hard labour over a cold, terrifying death? Yes please.

“As a deck hand?” you ask hesitantly.

Her lips quirk. “No,” she says and doesn’t elaborate.

“Bookkeeper?” you try again. “I know my numbers.”

“Not even close,” she says and gestures at the floor in front of her, which doesn’t clear anything up.

She points down and you slowly sit in front of her, waiting for her to laugh and tell you to do something else. She doesn’t, if anything her focus on you seems to grow.

“Knees,” she says and you start to have an inkling of where this is going.

Since you don’t want to end up in the freezing nothingness of the ocean you obey. It has nothing to do with how shockingly attractive she is.

“Can you guess where this is going next?” She asks as she spreads her leather clad legs. You nod, mouth dry. “Well?”

You hesitantly place your hands on her knees, a small part of you worried you’ve read this wrong. Her expectant expression doesn’t change. You slide them up her thighs. She leans back in her chair. You don’t look up as you unbutton her pants with shaking fingers but you can feel her gaze on you.

You make yourself meet her eyes when you’re done. They’re blazing with heat. She raises her hips and you slide her pants down her legs, trying not to show how the reveal of her skin affects you. You decide to be brave and hook your fingers in the waistband of her briefs, pulling them down at the same time. Her lips quirk up and warmth begins to glow in your chest. 

Your eyes drop down to find her cunt wet. It makes you pause. She’s enjoying this. Obviously, she’s enjoying having someone at her feet. That lines up with everything else you know about her character. What gets you is that you’re the one affecting her. You’ve made her this wet. You swallow and you lean closer but hands grip your hair.

“I believe I said your fingers,” she gives you a challenging look when you don’t back down. 

You look back down at her glistening pussy and decide not being able to touch her at all is worse than not getting your mouth on her. It’s also probably best not to antagonise the woman who just threatened to shove you overboard, but that thought is far from your mind.

You lean your head against her thigh as you run two fingers up her wet slit, coating them before finding her clit. You start with gentle circles, unsure of what she prefers. You glance up but her eyes are closed, head tilted back slightly. You continue until she directs you to do something else.

“I’m not seeing much skill here,” she growls, her breath slightly uneven.

You slide your wet fingers back down to her entrance. She’s soaked, but you aren’t brave enough to say it. Instead, you slowly push one finger inside of her. Her hips raise slightly and you can see the way she clenches her jaw to stop any noise escaping. Deciding you don’t want that, you slip a second inside of her and scissor your fingers apart. She makes a surprised noise, a slightly higher pitch than you’ve heard her voice go, and you do it again. Her hand tightens in your hair. It’s your turn to make a small noise. Her eyes slide open and she turns her dark gaze on you. Her pupils are blown. She tugs your hair and your pace stutters.

“You need to be able to multitask on my crew,” she says, her voice rough.

You desperately want to use your mouth but you obediently use your free hand to play with her clit. Her eyes slip closed at the new sensation but she doesn’t let it distract her for long.

“Not what I meant,” she says and nudges your lips with two fingers. You part them, curious. She slips two fingers in. You wrap your lips around them and suck as they gently tease your tongue.  “Good,” she says, voice rough.

It’s almost enough to distract you from fucking into her. Almost. The feel of her wet heat wrapping around your fingers is too enticing for you to be distracted long. Even when she presses down on your tongue. You scissor your fingers again in retaliation, if she doesn’t come before you go stupid she’s going to throw you overboard.

Her legs begin to tremble around you and you increase your pace. Her fingers leave your mouth to grip the arms of her chair and your gaze gets caught on how they glisten. Just for a moment. The way she gasps and throws her head back as she comes steals your attention. Her hat tilts off-centre, her chest heaves and her walls squeeze you so tightly you wish you had your tongue in her.

You don’t stop until she eases but even then you only slow down.

She eventually waves her hand at you and you cautiously lower your hands. She slumps back against the chair and closes her eyes, breathing deeply. It’s a moment before she speaks again.

“Passable,” she says like she wasn’t panting two minutes ago. “We’ll see how well you do for the next few days before revisiting the plank.”

You nod and pretend like you aren’t throbbing with need.

Day 5: Vampire AU