#*takes a breath* GOOOOOOOOD

[aresmarked]

my fave things from c7. my absolute fave part. is upon the guy making the 'oh are you a guy too har har relax it's a joke' bit ena's just. what's that supposed to mean? it's not funny. that's not a joke. which is exactly what you should do if you have the mental quickness because it puts the jokers on the backfoot to have to explain their fucking shitty transphobia! but a lot of folk have to train themselves out of the 'laughter is often a response to unfunny things as well' instinct

and you can absolutely see ena is both simultaneously processing this new info, but also just hey. hey. the fuck you saying about my friend. what are you saying by me being 'normal'?

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife as you're sitting in your little sofa chair, watching the TV with curious eyes and twiddling your toes propped up on the ottoman.

Joel just folding some clothes when suddenly you shout in a long drawn out yell:

"AAAAAAAUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Joel sits up quickly. "What what is it what's wrong??"

You clear your throat, "Nothing!" You peep, giving him too thumbs up and a chipper smile.

He gives you a curt look but then turns back to folding.

Then

"aaaaAAAAAAAAUUUGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!" You screech with your hands clutching your belly and your face all screwed up in obvious pain.

"Honey! What's wrong??"

"Nothing!" You say again. Your face is so happy and smiley, as if there's not a hint of the woman just screaming bloody Mary 11 seconds ago. "Im gooooooood."

Joel doesn't even fully turn around when you open your mouth and wail,

"WWWAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

Joel stands over you with his hands on his hips as you take a deep breath when the ache passes through you again.

"Are you in pain?"

"No! No no noooooOooOooO baby I'm good! I'm soooooo good! A-okay superman!" You wink at him, drumping your hands on your thighs and swaying back and forth as if you were dancing to a tune.

Joel raises his eyebrow and watches you without blinking...and after a few moments your little reassuring smile starts to dissolve into wide eye horror, fingernails digging into the plush armrests next to you as another wave of pain freezes your body and overcomes you slowly, your mouth opening and voice carrying out your throat :

"aaaaaaaaaHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUIUIJJJJHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

"Mmmmmhm. Not in pain, right?" Joel says to his stubborn, stubborn, born-on-a-stub Wife.

You suck in rapid breaths of air, eyes squeezed to hold in the tears welling up as you shake your head at your husband like the worst liar known to man.

He purses his lips trying not to let out the giggle puffing through his chest.

"My brave brave stubborn girl." He kisses your forehead.

"M' not stubbor-- oooohhAOOOHHHHHHAAAAARHHHGGHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEERRRRTYYYHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAUUUUGGGHHHHHUUHUUHUUUHHH!!!!!!!

Joel kneels beside you with his hand on yours. "Deep breaths with me, babe."

You follow his suit and breathe in then force it out, in and out in and out, Letting out little grunts with the pangs in your belly. Your fingers grip his shoulder as you grit yoyr teeth "fucker-fuckin-fucking fuck fucker-"

"Okay, whatever you say, just breathe."

"Fuckin--ahhh! Stupid-stupid ugly beard fuck ughhh- ugh fuck--your nose is so cute mmm AH--yeah hate you fucker- sweet daddy I love y--FUCK!"

He just keeps nodding, urging you to breathe in and out with him as you let your wildly confusing pains.

He just knows his daughter is going to keep both of you on your toes.

- - - -

Taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee

[jadetheblade4]

Are They Stupid?

A Dog Man Fanfic by Swirly Twirly

☆☆☆

Summary: Petey escapes Cat Jail, but the local guard that checks up on him is the one on his tail!! Will the shennanigans ever cease... (Takes place somewhere before A Tale Of Two Kitties) (Not a ship thing sorry weirdos but this gal wants to write for the silly of it ^_^)

☆☆☆

Part 1:

It was yet another normal day at Cat Jail, Collardale. The guard was doing his normal everyday rounds, albeit with a positive demeanor. He had been having a great day so far, thinking that nothing much could ruin it. He went to Petey's cell with a skip in his step.

"Gooooooood morning, Petey!" proclaimed the Guard, banging onto the cold metal bars of the cell. Petey, startled by this sudden noise, lifted his head up from his piles of papers and blueprints of escape. His face contorted into an annoyed glance once he saw who it was, his ears turned downward in disinterest.

"Aaaaaand goodbye to you, Guard..." Petey retorts, waving him off and continuing to work on his plans.

The guard chuckled. "Aw, cheer up, buddy! Big Jim and a bunch of other cats are planning on taking a sewing class today. You should join them!"

"Don't call me buddy! Besides, why would I want to be with any of those nut jobs? They're all stupid goofballs that don't have anything better to do with their life!" Petey took great offense in that chuckle, even slightly hissing his words to subconciously tell him to back off.

The guard tilts his head slightly, frowning a bit. "Then...what are you doing with your time?" he questioned, leaning onto the bars of Petey's cell. 

Petey's sneer immediately dissapears the moment he realizes how suspicious he looks. "I- um...Well..." he stutters, trying to find something to pass off as an excuse. Suddenly, his ears perk up, a quick idea passing through his genius mind.

He picked up a piece of paper that was a shopping list of some sort but for evil machinery. The contents didn't matter, though. He turned it over and quickly doodled a crude-looking drawing of the guard and himself holding hands, trying to make it as nice as possible with his ratty artstyle.

"Well, for your information... I'm...drawing a picture!! Of us!! Hanging out or whatever, just come see it!" proclaimed the orange cat, waving the drawing above his head.

The guard's face lights up in glee. "Really, Petey? You drew a picture for me??" he squealed in excitement. He never would've thought that Petey would do something nice for him for a change!

Petey nods convincingly. "Uh huh, just open the cell door and come inside to see it!!"

Unlocking the door to petey's cell, the guard steps inside gleefully. "What does it look like? Oh, I hope you capture my likeness onto it!!"

"Yeah, yeah, here ya go, I made it with care and whatnot, blah blah blah sappy stuff..." Petey shoves the drawing onto the guard, who happily accepted it.  The guard's eyes go wide as he scans the picture. A huge grin spreads across his face. "Aw, Petey, I love it!!! It looks so nice!!! C'mere you!!" He goes over to him and pulls him into a tight and loving hug.

"Oof!" Petey's breath slips out of him as he's trapped in the guard's iron grip. "Ok, man, hands off the merchandise!!" He squirms, trying to get away, but the guy has no plans of letting him go at the moment.

"This is the most thoughtful gift i have ever recieved in my whole entire life!!!! the guard proclaimed, continuing to cuddle him more. He comically spins him around and even kisses his cheek a couple of times, the gift really meaning a lot to him somehow.

"EUGH!! Alright ALRIGHT I GET IT I'm such a great pal now GET OFF!!!" Petey wriggled around his grasp until he popped off. He let out a "hmph!" as he tidied himself up from his sudden invasion of privacy. The guard jumped off to the side, a bit hurt by Petey's sudden cold nature. The orange cat notices his sudden deflate and feels a certain pull in his heart. "I mean, uh, no problem... figured I'd repay you for dealing with my, uh, schemes and stuff..." Petey stuttered, shifting his feet.

The guard's face lights back up again as he looks back at the picture. "Aww, it's nothing, Petey!! Just doing my duty!!" he said. Petey let out a smile, strangely happy about his half-assed drawing. He then shakes his head and tries to focus on the task at hand.

"I was thinking about hanging it up over there on the right side corner of my cell, can ya be a dear and put it there for me?" he bats his eyes innocently and points to said corner. The guard happily agreed. "Of course, dear pal!" He gives him one final hug and rushes to the wall to hang it up.

With a devious smile on his face, he tiptoes out of the cell. "Heheh, what a doofus..." the cat giggled. A few moments later, he escapes from the jail once more. "Ahh, finally! I can get back to doing what i usually do..." He walks back to his lab and breathes a sigh of relief. "The life...OF CRIME!!! HAW HAW HAW!!!!" he announces. The large building echoed his words, alerting the butler from the staircase.

"Heya Petey! Been a while since I've seen you around!!" he quickly steps down and joins him as Petey parades around his home. "Breaking out this time was a bit difficult," Petey went on, "but now things can finally get back on tra-"

A tv at the corner of the supposed room they're in suddenly announces its lovely presence by blaring breaking news from its LD screen. Petey and Butler turn their attention to the tv. It shows none other than Sarah Hatoff,  greatest reporter, in front of the very Cat Jail Petey just escaped from moments ago.

"BREAKING NEWS, FELLOW CITIZENS OF COLLARDALE!!!" Sarah declared. "We are currently receiving reports of a runaway warden of sorts from the Cat Jail looking for a certain fiendish feline...PETEY!!!" A mugshot of his face is shown on the screen right next to a goofy-looking photo of the guard, to which Petey frowns upon. "He informs us that if we see the cat anywhere to report to him...and...only him." Sarah scratched her head in confusion. "Huh. Guess the police aren't needed. This is Sarah Hatoff, signing out."

The butler turned to Petey. "Huh, I guess you don't need to, after all!" he said with a dumbass smile on his face. Petey grimaces and pinches the middle of his forehead in frustration. "AAUGH....Why is there always SOMETHING to ruin the mood..." he groaned, marching up the steps to the lab's roof with the butler following right behind. 

Up above, Petey and the butler scan their surroundings. The day-to-day hustle and bustle of the city rings out from below, showing no sign of anything unusual. The butler tilts his head. "Nobody here yet..." he muttered.

The orange cat crossed his shoulders and shook his head. "...Hmph! What am I even worried about anyways?!?" He laughed at how absurd he was acting at the moment to save face as he started walking back towards the stairs. "This lab is one of the most discrete and perfectly hidden buildings in all of the city of Collardale! It'll take a while before-"

A loud buzz-like sound suddenly calls out and the pair jumped in suprise. Petey rushed back and leaned over the roof once more to see a tiny guard waiting patiently at the door, pressing the goddamn buzzer.

"HOW DID HE FIND MY LAB!?!" Petey screamed. He quickly covered his mouth and dragged Butler down to the ground before Guard could see up above. He grabbed his butler by the shirt and whispered, "How did he find my lab?!?!?!"

The butler shrugged. "Gee, Petey, I don't have a clue how the guy could think of coming here."

"Hmm...strange." Petey let him go and scratched his head. He peered over the roof to look at his big fat-ass "PETEY'S SECRET LAB" sign. "Oh, by the way, I think you need to change a few of the lightbulbs on my lab's sign this weekend. A few of them are starting to fade out."

The butler rolled his eyes and sighed. "I'll buy lightbulbs later this evening, I guess..." he muttered again, peering over and looking at the sign with him.

Petey raised his eyebrow. "Also, quit muttering and mumbling so much, it's starting to irritate me >:( ."

The guard pressed the buzzer again. His hand contained a small piece of paper. "Helloooo?"  he called out. "I'm an authority from the local Cat Jail! Is anyone home?" He looked up at the tall building, to which Petey noticed just in time and ducked. Unfortunately, the butler ducked a bit too late, therefore leading the guard to only catch sight of him and not Petey.

"Oh, hey there! I just wanted to ask a couple of questions, if ya don't mind!!" he shouted from below to up above. The butler pops out again and gives a thumbs up, then goes down again.

Petey facepalms himself and groans annoyingly. He then faces the butler, who smiled sheepishly.

"You better not tell him im here. In fact, make him regret coming here in the first place!! I don't wanna be involved with the guy any further!!" he yelled, grudgingly going downstairs.

The butler shifted uneasily in place. "Uh, sure, Petey... I'll see what I can do, I guess..." he mumbled once more as he followed the grumpy cat.

[oblivions-dawn]

⭐⭐⭐

ALRIGHT I'm going to go into another favourite scene from Breathless, which was actually inspired by none other than @thequeenofthewinter, who requested that Mikael get his ass beat. And who am I to say no to that?? Lo and behold, a part of Chapter V, Nowhere Left to Run:

Vigdis opened her eyes, then shifted to peek over her shoulder. Serana still danced away to the tune of the bard’s lute, her movements so unnaturally graceful that, to Vigdis, they seemed almost awkward. Yet she grinned and laughed so freely, so carelessly . . . The ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of the hunter’s thin pink lips. She lifted the mug again to take another sip of the bittersweet mead— She paused. The song had ended, and the bard—a young, dirty blond Nord man who had leered at Serana from afar this entire time—approached the vampire with a smug smirk. Vigdis lowered her tankard; a deep frown now marred her lips. As they conversed, discomfort became more and more apparent on Serana’s face, her smiles strained and forced. He reached out, his fingers grazing along her pale cheek—her shoulders tensed—she stepped back, tried to lean away— Vigdis slid off her stool. Wrath ignited in her chest, its maw wide as adrenaline slithered through her veins. Within a few strides she was between them, her back to Serana—his lute ripped from his arms as her freckled fingers wrapped around its stringed neck—his blue eyes grew wide—smoke and fire and blood coated her tongue, her throat, her very soul— “Hey! That’s mi—!” She twirled the lute around to secure her grip, then slammed the ribs of the instrument against the side of his head with so much force that the wood splintered and shattered into pieces. The tavern fell into complete and stunned silence as the bard spun, then collapsed to the ground, motionless. Red ichor trickled weakly from his temple. Vigdis tossed the remnants of the instrument aside, her breaths calm yet ragged. Fire still burned so hotly in her blood, just as it had in High Hrothgar; one word, and the world around her would be consumed in her merciless flames. A cold hand grasped her wrist. She lifted her head just as an older Nord woman with dark hair knelt beside the bard and checked his pulse. To the hunter’s disappointment, he was still breathing.

FIRST OFF. VIGDIS SMILING?? UNREAL. UNHEARD OF. PRECIOUS. Alas, short-lived, it is. And you know me and you know that I love VigViolence, especially when it's to protect Serana. But here it's INCREDIBLY intentional, whether she realises it or not. I love this moment so much because, not only does she bash Mikael's head in with his own fucking lute, but it's sort of the first time she's truly LOST her composure and given in to her very violent nature for someone else. She's ready to burn that entire inn just because a man dared to even TRY and lay a hand on Serana, who was very clearly uncomfortable and Vigdis saw that; she's seen that same discomfort in those beautiful persimmon eyes before, and she HATES it. It's just one of those moments where Vigdis is very clearly in love, but won't admit it. AND IT HURTS ME SO MUUUUCH AND SO GOOOOOOOOD

[kittyball23]

Talent Nab (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: Velvet and Veneer discover that they can steal Floyd’s talent

A/N: This was another early draft I’d written back in June. Consider it another “Deleted Scene” of mine, if you will, since I’d written this when I had believed that Velvet and Veneer were Bergens. It made sense to me back then, since Bergens were able to obtain happiness from eating them, I figured they could steal talent by smelling

__________________________________________

Oh, this is NOT good…

Floyd gulped, taking in his surroundings. This was like something out of every Troll’s nightmare, only this was a nightmare that he was unable to wake up from. One that he was unable to open his eyes and breathe a sigh of relief upon the realization that it was only a bad dream. Nope. This was one-hundred percent real.

He lay on his back on a porcelain platter, a garnish of herbs and lemon and some other vegetables around him. To one side of the plate was a fork. To the other side of the plate was a knife. And above him were two sneering Bergens who were just about ready to use those utensils to split him up.

“Velvet, I’m hungry, can we eat already?” one of the Bergens whined.

“NO, Veneer! I gotta find the salt first!” the Bergen named Velvet snapped at him. Floyd could hear her rummaging through the cabinets, unable to find her desired condiment and muttering to herself angrily.

Veneer waited a minute, but Floyd could tell he was getting impatient with the way he licked his lips and they manner in which his fingers twitched. “Velvet…” he called again.

“In a MINUTE!” she growled back.

Veneer groaned. He couldn’t wait a minute, not when there was a delicious little Troll just waiting to be eaten! Making sure his sister wasn’t watching, he picked Floyd up. His mouth was already starting to water, and the Troll quivered in fear.

“Mmm-mmm!” Veneer licked his lips again, practically salivating. Floyd closed his eyes as the Bergen brought him up towards his face…

… and inhaled deeply.

Floyd released a breath he was holding. It was still a little gross having Veneer sniff him up like that, but at least he wasn’t eating him.

Not yet at least, Floyd thought grimly.

“Wow,” Veneer breathed. “That smells sooo, GoooOooooD!” he suddenly sang out.

Velvet whirled around, staring at him in awe. “What in the world… was that you?” she asked him. She had never heard Veneer hit a note that well, and she would’ve complimented him for it… until she realized that he had the Troll in his hands.

“HEY!” she screamed, snatching Floyd from her brother’s hands and smacking him. “We’re supposed to share this, remember?”

“Oh, you mean cut 75% for you, and leave 25% for me?” Veneer asked sarcastically.

“I get more because I’m older!” Velvet snapped.

“Yeah, by eight minutes!” Veneer retorted. He hated when Velvet pulled the “I’m the older twin” card on him.

“Oh, shut up, Veneer, it’s still older, isn’t it?!” Velvet held Floyd in her hands, not bothered by the way that the Troll had grown sickly-looking from all the talk of wanting to eat him. She narrowed her eyes at him, still confused by Veneer’s singing.

Hmmm, I wonder…

Velvet leaned in and took a whiff of her own. She suddenly felt charged up, like there was a force inside of her, powering up and breaking through with her very own high C note.

She gasped afterwards, blinking in surprise and glancing at Veneer. “Did you hear that?” she asked him.

“Oh, you mean the sound of my stomach growling?” he responded snarkily.

“Don’t be an idiot!” Velvet grumbled. “Here, you try and smell him again.”

“Smell him? I wanna eat - “

“Just DO IT!”

Veneer rolled his eyes, but he did as he was told. In doing so, he suddenly felt that supercharged energy that his sister just moments ago did (not having noticed it before due to his desire to eat the Troll). A perfect musical note came out of him, and he glanced at Velvet like an epiphany hit him.

“Wait a second…” he said, and his sister nodded.

Velvet grinned manically and held Floyd up by the hair. “Well, little guy. Your life may be spared, but it doesn’t mean you won’t be repurposed.”

Repurposed? Floyd was confused. What did that mean? And why did he feel so drained after they’d sniffed him?

Velvet cleared out the table, flinging everything that was on top of it off where it clattered onto the floor with a CRASH!

“Hey!” Veneer cried. “Look at the mess you made!”

“YOU clean it up, then!” Velvet demanded, yanking out a diamond bottle from a drawer. She grinned at Floyd. “You, my little friend, are going to stay in here for now. Can’t have you escaping now, can we?”

Before the Troll knew it, he was shoved inside the diamond, its lid promptly screwed tight. The last thing he heard before Velvet and Veneer both exited that room being the horrid, wicked laughs that they emitted. Laughs that were confident, as though they already knew they won. Laughs that made Floyd unnerved, and made him wonder if he would ever get out of this scrap alive.

[redroomroaving]

What about 💭🚀🎁 for the asks!

Asks from the incredible Gray! I am flattered :) thank you!

💭 What inspires you and your writing?

Gooooooood question. Is it a cop out to say 'everything?'

Actually, I'm going to take an even bigger out, and defer in this question to the wisdom of another. I was devastated to hear of the passing of the incredible David Lynch - Twin Peaks has been my favourite thing for basically forever; his mind and vision was vibrating on a frequency the rest of us can only admire and dream of.

I highly recommend checking out his book 'Catching The Big Fish'.

David Lynch, on Ideas:

"An idea is a thought. It's a thought that holds more than you think it does when you receive it. But in that first moment there is a spark. In a comic strip, if someone gets an idea, a lightbulb goes on. It happens in an instant, just as in life.

It would be great if the entire film came all at once. But it comes, for me, in fragments. [...] In 'Blue Velvet' it was red lips, green lawns, and the song - Bobby Vinton's version of 'Blue Velvet'. The next thing was an ear lying in a field. And that was it.

You fall in love with the first idea, that tiny little piece. And once you've got it, the rest will come in time."

🚀 Do you like to outline your fic first or create as you go?

My first answer sort of answers my second here; I'm notoriously disorganised. Every doc I've got has a big pile of words and thoughts and snippets slapped down at the bottom of it. At best, I might have a few bullet points of what should happen, but I'm at my heart a seat-of-my-pants, improvising as I go, building the road as I drive on it sort of writer. I can't improve this, and I'm sorry for it.

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

that first line I started kept growing, so, a short snippet from my as yet untitled WIP featuring (surprise surprise) Harper Geraldus x Harper Bor.

“I hate being like this Bor,” he said, “I feel so powerless.” Bor took in a big, deep breath, and lifted his hand to his lips - pressing a firm kiss to his knuckle - resting his other hand upon his forearm. A reassuring touch. His smile was faltering, and Geraldus hated that just as much. Bor could smile in the face of almost anything no matter how insurmountable it seemed. Now his misery and sorrow was chipping away at that, too.  “No one should be powerless,” Bor said, stroking the tab of his thumb over Geraldus’ knuckles where he had kissed them. More words of their kind. More aphorisms and little wisdoms from the annals of the Harpers that were easier said than they were done. It was hard to protect the weak and powerless when your own resolve could fail you; when your own mind could render you strengthless so simply. She was just a little girl - just a little girl in a mask - and Geraldus’ eyes had played tricks on him. Gods, he was so stupid. Just a mask. Geraldus let his head rest back against the wall, a bit too hard - a thump as his skull connected with the stone - and he let out a grumble.  I deserve to feel a little pain, he thought, I’m such a fool. Bor’s smile crept back up as he looked at him, and then he moved, shuffling around a bit so he sat before him, cross legged, stroking his forearm in small ministrations. “You’re really letting yourself have it tonight, aren’t you?” He said fondly. 

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Observations on ep 10:

(I'm sure that music was used in BBS...)

Redemption!

I've never really understood that arm/handholding thing that bl characters do...I've never questioned it before but the lingering camera shots on Top and Mew here has made me want to now...I think it bothers me. I find it odd from a body language perspective. Is it a cultural thing? I've never done it to someone or had it done to me - any thoughts from anyone else?

Oh and I find hugs where one person leaves their arms hanging are always awkward. If someone didn't put their arms around me I would break that hug so fast. I don't know how these characters stay hugging someone who doesn't hug them back. *shudders*

MOND!!

I've never heard those bass notes before the opening credits music kicks in! I'm sure it's just been silent before... *runs away to check* Oh, they've always been there but it's definitely louder on ep 10 than ep 1 - I've obviously had my volume too low to hear it before now.

"To solve the problem you must first admit there is one". And "I don't want to sing at your funeral". Sand slapping some truths on the table.

Why do I get the feeling that Boeing is a shit-stirrer?!

Now that it's come to mind, I can't stop thinking about Papang and Poppy together. Sorry Mark (and Pepper) but I'm rooting for a different ship now.

*incoherent screaming* I just love Khaotung as an actor!!

Oh Atom 😂 smh

I feel sorry for Boston tbh.

I somehow knew Mew was going to push Top in the pool. It's what I would have done. 😂 (But also, more bbs music).

Ooops, accidentally liking Boeing's photo. We've all been there Mew, we've all been there 😂

Yeah, Boeing wasn't 'stolen' from Sand by Top. He's a minx who likes to flirt and shit-stir and get around.

(Have I seen that stripy vest in MSP?)

Is that jealous Boston activated?! Me thinks they're not talking about phones and phone cases... OMG I love these two.

Boeing: 'be with someone who won't cheat on you'. Uh Mew...that is not Boeing. I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him.

ANOTHER KISSING PAIR @ranchthoughts!! (I know you know but I need to shout at you anyway)

THAT'S THE DON'T SAY NO HOUSE @colourme-feral!! The 'holy guacamole' house!

Oh nooooooooo Ray's dad paid Sand to encourage Ray to go to rehab. Now Ray knows and it's going to deter him from going. Noooooooooo.

Oh wow. Oh....... Wow. Just wow. Khaotung and First. I just... WOW. But also, it's Ray's turn to slap some truths in Sand's face.

Oooo I don't trust Mew. I think Boeing got to him.

I do like Mond playing evil though.

Oh, ohhhhhhhhhh Boeing is vindictive. I want to feel sorry for Top but...I need more of their backstory first...and Top's motivations for being with Mew...so, the jury's out for now.

Neo does 'kicked puppy' really well.

Oh Mark is incredible. He does that switch from cocky to vulnerable so well.

Just, *takes a deep breath*, THIS SHOW IS SO FRICKING GOOOOOOOOD *incoherent screaming*

See my other post for an serious in-depth meta essay on this ep.

[gurugirl]

i am not into bdsm ever. like ever. priestrry is the exception to the rule guru. it's so hot and so gooooooood. i think i like it so much because he's so sweet to her - the soft part of the dom in his character shines through every time and it makes me weak. i would never want to be in a dom/sub relationship unless it was with priest harry. because the way you portray it is perfection.

thank you for posting it! omg i need to go outside and take a walk to catch my breath.

Ahh thank you! Seriously!!! Yeah, bdsm is tricky and I get why some wouldn't like it. It's not everyone's thang and that's fine.

So glad my soft dom priest is the exception to your rule. He's my favorite so that's an amazing compliment. 🖤

xoxo

[rennerator]

WOW!!!!!! WOW WOW WOW THIS IS ALSO SOOOO F* GOOOOOOOOD!!!!! S2 Like, LOOK AT HER!!!!! YEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSS MAGNIFICENT!!!!! GORGEOUS!!!!!! AWWWWW, I LOVE THIS!!!!! I LOVE THIS SO SOOOO MUCH!!!!! I LOVE HER!!!!! :D BREATH-TAKING!!!!! MAGICAL!!!! BEAUTIFUL!!!! LOVE LOVE LOVE Thank YOU SO SO MUCH for this!!!! You are WONDERFUL!!!! :) <3

I am no woman - 2015

-

Castiel

Both

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BUY A PRINT HERE

[xelles-archive]

i like ya cut g. *slaps myself to the yearning™*

[mongooseblues]

Stuffy As In Congested, Not As In Boring

Continuing a joke from a year old drabble. Honestly sometimes I just need to watch Cal be sneezy and a professor simultaneously.

- — - — - — - — - — - — - — - — - — - — - — - —

He’s taken measures to prepare, one of which is sixteen ounces of steaming tea in a reusable cup, another is a ream of tissues in his blazer pocket. It’s visible on him still, the last vestiges of his cold, but only if one were to really look through the perky professionalism, the genuine joy he takes in lecturing. Optimism and excitement do a pretty good job of obscuring the physical details.

But they're there if you look. The skin around his nose bears still the traces of frustration from when he couldn’t help but to swipe or to scratch—a bitter rouge that has yet to fully forgive him his mistreatment. He's technically well rested, but his dark circles are darker than usual, the creases below his eyes more pronounced. Leftover sniffles are easily provoked, so he’s drinking this particular cup of tea as slowly as possible.

He starts the lecture with his usual, “Gooooooood… morning!” wherein the ‘Good,’ is drawn out as long as students are still talking, and the ‘morning’ is an inflection change to cheekiness.

“I hope you all had a nice little break Monday. Apologies if my voice sounds kinda funny—I’m still getting over this cold. That was the main reason I canceled class actually. I didn’t feel too bad, but I sounded ridiculous. My partner was making fun of me for being unable to say…” He clicks a button on a very small remote controlling the projector on the ceiling, and the opening slide of his lecture appears against the massive white wall behind him:

Moral Non-Naturalism, it says.

“Wayyy too many nasal consonants in this particular lecture topic. Didn’t feel like making you all listen to seventy-five minutes of me talking about ‘boral dod-daturalism.’”

Cal pauses while students laugh, and starts again with a smile that’s spread further. “I’m still a liiittle bit congested but I’m gonna do my best to enunciate through it. Moral non-naturalism. Ooh that was pretty good! Way better than yesterday, okay here we go.”

A few minutes into the lecture before he starts to feel like he wants to sneeze, distinguishing between naturalism and reductionism with every intention of keeping it together as long as he can, but the gymnastics of his eyebrows are theatrical enough to be seen from any seat, inconveniently expressive and never affording him anything less than complete transparency. A sudden hike, an inward furrow—he knows he couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to, so Cal will have to be transparent as well.

A thought concludes but doesn’t transition. Instead it trails off as he brings a fist under his nose, and winces against a ticklish breath, but the feeling fades after a moment and he sighs a grateful exhale. “Sorry, thought I was about to sneeze for a second there. That wouldn’t have been good with this thing,” he says, indicating the sound-sensitive lav mic clipped to his shirt collar. “Blow out the speakers, snf! Deafen you guys.”

Cal generally tries not to laugh at his own jokes, but sometimes when they go over well he can’t resist joining in with a quick chuckle. He is particularly fond of this Monday/Wednesday class this semester. There’s been an especially joke-receptive energy here since day one, and it gives him the freedom to get sillier with them.

Only about a paragraph and a half further before the feeling is plaguing him again—a distracting, tickly electricity he knows is rearranging his features into a ridiculous expression somewhere between frustration and dismay.

“What Moore is saying is that any definition of morality put in terms of some natural property is a failure, because naht…”

A question, silently posed by a single twitch of nostrils, meets his executive decision that no he’s good it’s under control keep going, but his even cadence quickly becomes anything but—his voice wavering a little as he speaks, words inflating and floating away from him as he loses his grip on a sentence.

“Because natural properties—rightness, goodness, pleasurableness, et cetera—are halways liable to an oh-hoh—an open question and hokay actually I amabouttosneeze-excuseme—!”

He utters this last part in a speedy, rising panic and hurries to pull the mic from his collar and leave it dangling by the cord—a gasping breath is the last thing it relays before there’s a soft thud of static as it settles farther down his shirt, and Cal throws an arm over his face and lurches into his elbow with such vigor that he stumbles a few steps sideways with the entropy of it.

“DJIISSHHH’hu! Hh-! HehhdJESSHHhue!”

Harsh and percussive and probably still audible even without the assistance of the sound system, and there’s a chorus of bless yous after them both. It’s not the first time he’s been blessed by a class of three hundred and it won’t be the last, but it never fails to find him extremely touched by this synchronized demonstration of their attention and kindness.

“Hoo, thank you thank you,” he says when he picks up the dangling mic, about to clip it back into place when his breath falters (“uh-hih-?”) and his grip on his shirt collar does too, in favor of signaling his class with a shake of his head and the flash of a raised finger and then holding himself in place while he collapses into the other arm to muffle another exclamation.

“Huh-JEHHSHHhoo!”

More chorused blessings afterwards as he emerges from his sleeve with only a hint of sheepishness and a rake of fingers through his hair to untousle the locks he’s tousled loose.  

“Thank you!” he says again, committing to clipping the mic back on this time. “I think I’m dwindling down to the final sneezes of this cuh— of this cold, and I’m… I’m trying not to do that agaih-hin, um…” A couple of blinks as he wills himself not to, but it’s on the horizon and blinding him into a forced squint, and that fist-pressed-under-the-nose thing rarely actually works for longer than a few seconds, after which Cal can only shake his head again with a guilty smile and append his sentence; “and failing, sorryonemoretime—”

He wastes too much time with this warning to have a chance to take the mic back off again, so all he can do is put his hand over it, which does quiet him somewhat, in conjunction with burying his nose into the now somewhat dampened fabric of his blazer sleeve—to conspire anew with secret droplets hidden within the weaves of houndstooth—though a desperate vocalization still finds its way through the speakers.

“HAH-DZZIISSSHhyue!”

It seems to get funnier every time, to both Cal and his class, but he does feel his cheeks warm when he hears himself echo through the lecture hall. “Wow excuse me, I am so sorry,” he laughs. “Thank you for your blessings, and your patience. I’m definitely—snff!—I’m almost definitely done now.” A tissue is fished from his pocket and politely employed in a casual swipe beneath his nostrils, resisting how impolitely he’d love to perform this action and issuing a couple of unavoidable, staticky sniffles.

“Now, snffh! back to non-naturalism… oh, uh-oh, that sounds not so great again, hang on,” he says, sniffling sharply and clearing his throat, recalibrating to try again in earnest. “Moral non-nat-goddamnit.”

They laugh, he laughs.

“Moore’s theory is sometimes also referred to as intuitionism… but that’s not much better is it?” he asks, with a chuckle that crackles pointedly toward a cough.

He probably could have used another day to recover, but this won’t set him back any. Cal isn’t the medical kind of doctor, but he has a personal theory that returning to his life, the way it usually is, lends itself to speedier recovery. Maybe it’s because he’s an extrovert, or, admittedly, a little bit addicted to his work. Maybe it’s because he’s fortunate enough to do something he loves for a living. All he knows is that the energy of being here, with his class and their kind patience and their good-natured laughter, has curative properties of its own.

“Okay I think what I might do is give you all a five minute break, snffh! while I go blow my nose a bunch of times or something to try to remedy this. If that doesn’t work, unfortunately you’re just gonna have to listen to a very stuffy lecture—as in congested, I mean! Stuffy as in congested, not as in boring.”

[sheena-yuet]

George began to chant the air around him moved strongly as if preparing to fullfil his desire.

All Dream could do was stare amazed and fearfully at the elf as he felt the stronger presence of magic surround him, soon the elf's loud chanting began to quiet down until nothing, and suddenly Dream felt nothing as well, nothing constraining him.

As George finished the chanting he was out of breath, honestly a little bit tired, since magic made to trap giants were stronger then most normal spells mainly because giants themselves are strong beings.

George turned back towards Dream, who just stared at him, George wasn't as skilled at picking up on emotions as elf didn't really show it, he couldn't tell if he was fearfully, confused or well he doesn't know what else there could be.

But George wanted to make sure that the spell worked and didn't leave anything, no hidden curses and such, he moved closer and the giant flinches away.

George titled his head confusedly,

"I'm just checking, making sure your alright."

He said plainly

Dream just starred before hesitantly placing his hand out towards the small elf, hand towering over him.

"Is that all you need?"

George nodded looking up.

"Yes."

George moved forward, touching the giants skin and closed his eyes, Dream felt warmth radiate through his hand then up his arms and then to the rest of his body before he knew it the warmth that felt so comfortable faded and a soft voice said

"Done."

Dream looked shocked quickly looking at his hand as if he would be able to see the magic that had just flowed through him.

"Really."

George nodded, pulling the hood back over his ears turning around back facing the giant.

"Your fine , I'll be of."

Before George could even take his first step the giants voice softly said

"Wait."

George turned back around confusedly

"Why, are you feeling unwell?"

(That's all I got sorry for the poor writing it's 2:40AM I'm tired, this is just an idea inspired by your work, please excuse any spelling mistakes and grammatical errors as I am tired.)

O.M.G. THIS IS SO GOOOOOOOOD!!!mua mua mua <3 Same here writing at 2am gang ahahaha

I really like that the way how George speaks just simple and short ,just get to the point. And dream is just like so scared of him right now ahaha kinda cute xD

And really thankful for extending my story qwq! It means to me a lot <3

Don’t know how to show how thankful I am, I drew some scene from the extent content! But idk how to put them together with the inbox grey box like they would separate :p I’m try my best. They all kinda rough cuz I don’t really have enough time for doing the line art oof

———

As George finished the chanting he was out of breath, honestly a little bit tired, since magic made to trap giants were stronger then most normal spells mainly because giants themselves are strong beings.

George turned back towards Dream, who just stared at him, George wasn't as skilled at picking up on emotions as elf didn't really show it, he couldn't tell if he was fearfully, confused or well he doesn't know what else there could be.

But George wanted to make sure that the spell worked and didn't leave anything, no hidden curses and such, he moved closer and the giant flinches away.

Dream just starred before hesitantly placing his hand out towards the small elf, hand towering over him.

George moved forward, touching the giants skin and closed his eyes, Dream felt warmth radiate through his hand then up his arms and then to the rest of his body before he knew it the warmth that felt so comfortable faded and a soft voice said

George nodded, pulling the hood back over his ears turning around back facing the giant.

"Your fine , I'll be off .”

[musette22]

JUST LIKE HEAVEN I READ IT AND JSKSNSNSJDJSJS PLEASE IT'S SO GOOOOOOOOD 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 YOU'RE AWESOME MINNIE

KATTTT you absolute angel 💖💖💖 Do you know how happy it makes me that you're giving Evanstan a chance? It makes me look like this: 🥰 Ugh, why are you so sweeeeet, I don't deserve you 🥺 I've actually been re-reading some of my older Evanstan fics lately because generally speaking, I just post them and then never look at them again, so I was like 'Hmm I wonder if they're even any good?' and ahahaha, let me tell you, they are not all good lol. It's taking everything in me not to just re-edit the shit out of some of them, but I know that way madness lies, so I guess I'll just take a deep breath and tell myself this is a sign of growth :p

But yeah, if you do decide to read more, I'm very sorry in advance for a couple of the older ones 🙈 At the risk of being a self-promoting asshole, may I recommend a few that I'm actually pretty proud of..?

I Really Can't Stay (Baby, It's Cold Outside) by @paper-storm and myself (an AU)

Diving In The Deep End

There is a Tavern in the Town

Honey, I'm Home

Body Politics (AU)

Obviously don't feel at ALL obliged to read any of them!!! It's completely okay if you've had your fill, but just on the off chance you're wanting to read some more Evanstan by yours truly 😘

I love you a lot, bby Kat. You're the awesomest! 💕

[rotworld]

Inhuman Encounters: Jay

an anon asked:

HMM…… sex pollen + the boys in inhuman WP………… thoughts? 

i was going to post them all at once, but they’re taking a while and they’ll all probably need their own warnings lol so here’s just the first one for now.

a day out with jay ends suddenly when he says he isn’t feeling well. concerned, you decide he could use a visit from a friend to cheer him up, but he’s not the one you should be worried about.

->inhuman!jay/reader. explicit; contains heat/mating cycles, extremely feral behavior, noncon/dubcon, rough sex.

.

.

.

You’ve known Jay long enough to know he deals with his problems like a dog. Bites them, when he can. When he can’t, he slinks off to some quiet place to curl up and hide. Maybe he’s trying to save face and not look weak in front of you and Rex, or maybe he’s just trying to protect himself. You’re not really sure which it is, but you don’t like the idea of him being all by himself. So not this time, you decide. You’re not going to let him deal with it alone.

He looked sick when you split up for the day, flushed and feverish. Said he’d go home and sleep it off. But his mom won’t be back until late, and just the thought of him lying sick in bed in a dark, empty house bothers you. You don’t have much, but you throw together a little care package. Some soup and some sweets. You think about picking up something over the counter, but you don’t know what his symptoms are, or if it’d even help. You know some things just don’t work on him. His alcohol tolerance is through the roof.

You’re still debating what else to bring when there’s a loud thump at the door. Less of a knock, and more like something running into it and slumping on your doorstep. You hear labored breathing. A panting animal. There’s a scraping sound like dragging claws and audible sniffing, the shift of a shadow on the other side of the door. You hold absolutely still, not blinking, not breathing, but you feel a bead of sweat sliding slowly down your skin. The shaky moan you hear makes your heart skip a beat.

“H...hhhhhhey. Hhhhuman. Let me innnnn?” 

It sounds like Jay, but something is really, really wrong. His voice is hoarse, a little deeper than usual. He’s slurring his words, a low hiss accompanying every syllable. You hear him tap his claws on your door and fiddle with the knob, growling under his breath when he finds it locked. “Jay?” you say carefully. The sound of your voice makes him groan in an unmistakably suggestive way. “Are you alright? I thought you were going home.”

“Mmm. Yeahhhh,” he sighs. You hear shifting, struggling, a grunt of exertion. The door rattles as he slams up against it. Trying to get to his feet, you suppose. (Trying to break in, another part of you worries. You know what he’s capable of. Your flimsy, shitty lock couldn’t survive that.) “Home,” he mutters deliriously. “‘M home. I wanna come innnn.”

“You’re not home, Jay. You came to my place.” And thinking about that, why he’s here, why he stumbled over in a feverish haze with his instincts promising a safe place, fills you with feelings you aren’t ready to confront right now, but you can’t worry about that right now. He needs help. You’re too far in your own head, worrying, wondering how to feel about all this, to notice how quiet it gets the closer you get to the door. Jay goes completely still until the lock clicks out of place. “Here, let’s get you inside,” you start to say. You don’t even finish your sentence before the world tilts.

Something hits you, maybe the door, maybe Jay in his rush to get in. All you know for sure is there’s a sore spot on your head and the floor rushes up to meet you. You’re still getting your bearings, blinking away the pain, seeing double as Jay stalks towards you like downed prey.

“Sssssmellll gooooooood,” he hisses, a long, forked tongue slithering out to taste the air. He shrugs off his jacket and he’s shirtless underneath, covered in a sheen of sweat and patches of gray-green scales. You try to scramble back and away from him but you don’t get far. Long, clawed fingers wrap around your ankle and yank you back across the floor. 

You’re starting to realize that “sick” isn’t quite the right way to describe what’s wrong with him. He’s in some sort of rutting frenzy, crawling on top of you to pin you down with his weight, shredding through your clothes with his claws and teeth. Every time you cry out and beg him to stop, he kisses you, swallowing your scared sounds and moaning into your mouth. His hand cups your sex and your hips buck involuntarily. 

Jay makes a rumbling sound that vibrates in his chest, halfway between stone-like grinding and a purr. He makes quick work of what’s left of his own clothes and grinds his huge, hard cock against your stomach. “Mate,” he purrs, sounding drunk and content. He says this over and over, muttering it against your throat, “mate, mate, mate.”

Jay’s kisses are sloppy and unfocused, nipping and sucking at your chest, your collarbones, your throat, strings of drool dripping slowly down your skin. You’ll have marks everywhere in the morning. His thrusts grow more frenzied and he’s not even inside of you. He clings to you, sinks his claws into your hips, and uses you like a toy to rut against while he growls and pants against your ear.

Suddenly, he flips you over, face-down on the floor under him. One hand rests heavily on the back of your neck and the other hikes up your hips. Your pulse picks up and a reluctant coil of arousal twists in the pit of your stomach.  He still can’t seem to get inside of you, impatiently thrusting before he’s lined up properly. You can’t believe shy, nervous Jay is doing this, mounting you, humping your ass like an animal as he snarls his frustrations. He bites you as if to punish your body for not letting him in. He grazes his teeth over your shoulder in warning and then sinks them into your flesh. “Mate,” he whines pitifully. He wants you so badly he can’t think straight. 

“It’s okay,” you tell him. You can’t look back because he won’t let you. He gets agitated when you move, biting your arm when you reach back between your bodies, but he backs off when you push your hips back against him. He watches, curious, letting out a pleased moan when you try blindly to line him up with your entrance. It takes a few tries with his impatient movements, hips bucking to feel the warmth of your hand. But you feel when he figures it out, starts angling his thrusts. Precum dribbles from his tip and it’s all over you, smeared along your inner thighs and your ass from his excitement. 

Jay bends over you, the hand on your neck rising to tangle in your hair. He scratches your scalp, careful not to break the skin. He presses a kiss to your nape and you hear him breathe in shakily, feel his warm exhale warm your skin. The tenderness in the gesture, the way he affectionately strokes your hair, feels almost like an apology. The Jay you know peeking through, asking for forgiveness.

He isn’t gentle and it’s hard to take him. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust. The flare of his head stretches you, and the girth of his length stings at first. You struggle to catch your breath between his hard, fast thrusts. A vicious growl scares you and you hear his claws splintering the floor. You’re so full you think you’re going to break. “Goooood,” he purrs, lapping at one of his nastier bites almost playfully. He’s in, you think through a haze of agony and dizzying fullness. He’s all the way in. His pelvis is flush against you and it seems to settle him somewhat, quelling some of his frenzy. 

“Fff...fffuck,” Jay mutters, the closest you’ve heard him sound to himself since he got here. “Tight. You’re so tight. I didn’t...fuck, should’ve prepared you….” He gives a small roll of his hips, a slight, shallow thrust that still makes you whimper. “I made a mess of you, honey,” he murmurs, his long tongue sliding wetly against the shell of your ear. “Mmm. I kinda like it.”

He pulls out halfway only to slam back in, making you quiver and cry his name. He hushes you, settling heavily against your back. It’s not enough to be on top of you, he needs to touch you, needs to feel your skin along every inch of him. His scales are cool at first but they warm quickly from your body heat. You feel his tail loop around one of your thighs, the tip grazing your sex. It’s too much. You feel yourself on the edge already and he pushes you closer as his hands explore your body, smoothing up your sides.

“Can you,” he pauses, taking a shuddering breath as he rolls his hips. “Can you say my name? My real name. Just try it.” 

“Dženan?” you say. It’s more of a question than anything, unsure of your pronunciation. But it’s exactly what he wants if the sound he makes is any indication, that purring growl rumbling in his chest again. You feel his cock twitch inside of you. 

“Yeahhhh,” he sighs. You’re losing him again to his mating haze, his voice going low and inhuman again, but it’s not the same impersonal rutting from before. It’s still rough, too fast, too demanding for you to keep up with, but you swear he almost cries every time you call his name. His claws rake down your sides and you think you’re bleeding, think there’s too much pain for it to feel so good. You feel faint, close to losing consciousness. He has to be done soon. He has to be close, at least.

You don’t know how long you lay there, fucked into the floor, but you lose your voice and any semblance of higher thought. If Jay finishes, you don’t notice, because he keeps going. You wake up in bed at some point, sore and vaguely aware of the sensation of teeth in your neck and Jay’s cock still inside you, but slower, shallower, almost sleepily fucking you. You croak out his name and he chuckles, rubbing your sore thighs. 

“Save your breath,” he murmurs. “I’m not done yet.

[lunarnights95]

GOOOOOOOOD MORNING TO MEEEEEE 🥵

Holy shit you have no idea how badly I needed this. My morning was starting off a little bit rocky. I ain't gonna lie. this? *takes a deep breath* This makes it all better.

Get bothered hoe 😏😏

Stong daddy Loki

The arm strength 😫🫠🫠

What r you staring at your so dirty minded 🙄🙄🙄

Awww he’s such a good boy 🥺🥺 he just wants a cookie….-

Well good morning to me!! 🥵🥵

Damn think of the strength he could put behind a spanking 🫠 you better hope it’s only a minor infraction or you won’t be sitting properly for a month.

Then the arm strength to hold you against a wall while he fucks you within an inch of your life 😩 can you imagine how firm those forearms would feel holding your thighs? How his fingers would feel digging into your ass? Ughhhh

Hmm of course he finally wants a reward. Too bad we caught him touching with permission and now he has to be punished 😈

Good morrow hoes! @cheekyscamp @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @coldnique @cake-writes @lokisgoodgirl @muddyorbsblr @maple-seed @mochie85 @joyful-enchantress @simplyholl @holymultiplefandomsbatman @give-me-a-moose @ladyofthestayingpower

[deeplydesiredimagines]

Can you write a Present Mic x trans male reader where the reader rides him in his studio while he's on air 👉👈 thank you

♡ Pairing: Present Mic (Hizashi Yamada) x Trans Male Reader

♡ Word Count: 1.1k

♡ Rating: Mature, 18+

♡ Warning(s): public sex, almost caught, creampie

Rules ♡ Fandoms ♡ Requests ♡ Ko-Fi

A/N: Of course I can, my love! ♡ Present Mic is actually one of my favorite pros to write for so this was super fun! Don’t forget to like and reblog pwease :#> ♡

“Ngh… Superstar…” Hizashi muttered against the gloved hand he was holding over his mouth. He leaned back against the hardwood door of his dressing room, your body pressed against his, your lips pressed against his neck. Hizashi was weak to your temptations, you knew that as well as he did, and that was exactly why you were taking advantage of Hizashi in such a delicate, time sensitive position. You did not want him to go on, you were feeling a little possessive of your radio host. It was no secret you were needy, and you knew damn well he was also needy, you could feel him pressing between your legs with his dick. “Stay,” you whispered against his sensitive neck, feeling Hizashi shudder at the sensation of your warm breath on his neck. 

“The show is about to start, I have to go on,” Hizashi muttered, grabbing your hip with one of his very strong hands, the other grabbing onto your chin. “Don’t worry, I always have a plan, superstar,” he tilted his head down, his glasses sliding down his nose as he winked at you. He walked you backwards, using his strength over you to press you against the wall, your back arching slightly when you hit the hard surface. Hizashi grinned in a very coy manner, like he had an idea brewing in his mind. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours much rougher than you were expecting. You really must have riled him up~

Hizashi’s tongue pressed through the barrier of your lips and into your mouth, his tongue piercing rubbing against your tongue, only for a few seconds before he pulled back. He looked you up and down, looking at your red face and how cute it was when your breathing was all heavy from how riled up you were. He reached his hand down, rubbing you between your legs, he could tell you were soaked and how hard you were, it was an immediate turn on and it made his cock throb in anticipation. Hizashi’s hand slid away before he gestured towards the door with his head, opening the door up and walking out of the room.

The door was connected to the studio, it was a small place Hizashi rented out, he manned all of the controls for the most part. He walked over to his seat and slid into his chair, scooting back a little as he adjusted his microphone and put his headphones on. You could not help but stare, Hizashi was sexy, there was no doubt about it, but staring at his large bulge in those tight leather pants, just begging for attention. Well. It did something to you. It made you throb and it made your mind buzzy, all you could think about was his dick and how you wanted it inside of you. Immediately, you walked over to Hizashi as he was turning on his live broadcast. There was no way he could stop you now. You unzipped his leather pants, watching his cock spring out, standing tall with the slightest dribble of precum decorating the tip of his hard-on. 

“GOOOOOOOOD EVENING OUT THERE TO ALL MY RISING STARS!” Hizashi started, trying to ignore how you were sliding your pants off beside him while holding his cock. He was throbbing from the attention, trying to control any noises and his breathing while focusing on his show. “Today is a very special day, it is the anniversary of the famous incident that started it all— the day All Might saved all those civilians!” You slid under Hizashi’s arms, grabbing onto his shoulders as you positioned yourself over him. You slid down onto his rock hard cock, leaning your face into his neck and biting down on his tanned skin to stop yourself from making any noise. You hoped that the microphone was not picking up how your wet hole made a clicking noise as you slid down Hizashi until you bottomed out. 

Hizashi’s mouth opened and his head leaned back, his eyes closing as his hand moved onto your hip as you started to slowly rock your hips against his. “Oh yeah…” Hizashi muttered quickly as he lifted his hips up, pushing himself deeper into you before he remembered he was working. His eyes widened and his body tensed, holding himself deep in you as you started to bounce against him. He had to quickly recover. “OH YEAH!” you were bouncing on him faster while he was trying to regain his control. “LISTENERS! I have a special treat for you all!” Hizashi pulled his mouth away from the microphone to let out a heavy breath, looking at you with lidded eyes. He was always so noisy. It must have been so hard for him to not make any obvious noises~ good~

Hizashi saw the smug look in your eyes and bit his tongue, rolling his hips up into you while lowering the volume on his radio. “We have a playlist specially picked out and curated by All Might himself! And you, my RADICAL listeners, get to EXCLUSIVELY HEAR IT!!!” Mic yelled into the microphone while he began to move his hips up into you faster, watching you bounce on his lap from the reflection of the windows in his studio. You bit into his neck harder, but the clicking sound from just how wet you were was filling the room and you were trying your hardest to muffle your moans in desperation that the mic did not pick them up. It did not help that you could feel Hizashi throbbing and your own orgasm starting to come. 

“I’m…. CUMMING AT YOU RIGHT NOW WITH THE MOST EXCLUSIVE ALL MIGHT MUSIC CONTENT YOU’VE EVER HEARD!” Hizashi bit his thumb in response to almost slipping on live radio. He slammed his hips up into you and opened his mouth as he let out a loud sigh as your hips bounced up and down faster on him. His hips twitched and his hips jerked, the chair squeaking under him and his headphones fell off of his head, landing around his neck as his eyes closed. A warm sensation began to fill your stomach as Hizashi started to cum inside of you. Immediately, your hips jerked and your head bobbed around, your own orgasm hitting your body harder than it ever had before. A louder noise escaped your and Hizashi covered your mouth with his gloved hand, leaning in closer to the microphone. “Coming to you, live on air, All Might’s playlist!” he said before flicking the microphone off and pressing a button that started the music. 

“Naughty boy, I hope no one heard you moaning live on air~ now, be my good little show stopper and show your host how you ride the newest trends— me.”