#First in command Bon

[rinhaler]

hey hey, ik ur requests are closed so im gonna leave this till u open them back up,

imagine Yakuza Boss!Toji bucking his hips into you, bored out of his mind at his meeting, you’re cute whimpers and whines for him to slow down slightly amusing him as a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, all this happening while his most trusted subordinates watch as he fucks into you at this meeting, while you just sit on his lap babbling about how good he feels until he finally makes you squirt, causing him to stop the meeting and kick everybody out so he can abuse your little hole some more, wanting to see you squirt for him more. :3

I feel like I went a little off script and I threw some Shiu in there too bc we're all sluts for Shiu right?? Bon apetit!

warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap, possessiveness, slight jealousy, slightly mean toji, dom!toji, exhibitionism, public sex, oral fixation, squirting, daddy!kink, DDLG esque?, pussy spanks.

words: 1.6k

“She shouldn’t be in here.” Shiu comments, his boss gives him a passive stare before looking in your direction. You sit politely with your hands in your lap and a shy smile, looking awkwardly around the room full of terrifying men. “She shouldn’t be listening to the shit we’re discussing.”

“I shouldn’t be listening to this shit, either. What the fuck do I pay you all for?” Toji responds, putting his arm around the back of your seat as he scoffs. “She’s needy, she needs constant attention and I know all you filthy fucks have got your eye on her so I don’t want her out of my sight.”

Shiu groans, but stands to his feet. You feel bad, really, you know what an inconvenience you are but you do try your best to remain demure and out of the way. But he’s right, you’re needy. And to be honest you’re a little afraid. Since you’ve become Toji’s plaything you’ve got a target on your back. You know with all of the security and loyal men at his disposal the odds of anything happening to you are slim. But still, you know it isn’t impossible.

Toji’s second in command leads the meeting in the board room, and you are engaged and silent as he speaks. It’s something about a territory dispute. You don’t fully understand but you know it’s illegal and dangerous. And you begin to whimper as they discuss resorting to violence.

The sound catches Toji’s attention. It seems you’ve been paying more attention than he has. He’s got more money than sense, and that is why he keeps Shiu around. But he can read you like a book. He knows when you’re happy or sad, angry or scared. And now, he sees how hard you’re trying to hold in the fear you feel. He knows what always makes you feel better, though. And he’s bored out of his fucking skull.

He shows no care or consideration for his audience as he lifts you from your seat and into his lap. Shiu stutters a little as he watches Toji manhandle you, your legs spread apart over his own before he touches under your little miniskirt. He smirks, kissing your shoulder when he feels your naked flesh.

“Good girl, no panties, jus’ like I told you.”

He doesn’t see a point to you wearing panties, he told you that after your first encounter. He told you he’d be keeping you around and you were his perfect little girl. And perfect little girls don’t need panties.

“Perfect little girls just need to keep their cunts wet for their daddy’s.” that is what he told you.

Your face flushes with heat when you realise if anyone in the room is brave enough to look they’ll see your dripping little slit. You aren’t sure how brave Toji’s men really are, though. But Toji is bold and uncaring and he knows what he wants. Always.

You gasp, softly, stealing a few gazes from the men in the room. Shiu is busy trying to keep the meeting on track and keep everyone focused. And it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. He knows your pussy like the back of his hand, too. Because Toji loves to show you off. But he’ll never share. But his second in command knows better than most what your cute cunt is capable of. It’s a novelty to him, now. Why would he steal glances when he knows his generous boss will brag about you in private to him?

You fall forwards, little hands slamming against the table top as Toji rams his cock into you without remorse. He holds your hips, pulling you down until the back of your thighs smack against his. His fingers squeeze into your doughy skin, sure to leave bruises as he’s often one to do. Any fear that you’d felt at the thought of the men surrounding you committing acts of violence are a distant memory, now. You’re too busy trying to steady yourself through daddy’s onslaught.

“P-Please, fuck, please… daddy! S-Slow down!” you beg, a smirk sprawls like wildfire across his face as he listens to your desperate pleas.

“No no no, you don’t tell me what to do,” he reminds you. A light slap coming down on your clit as he continues fucking up into you. “Stop thinking, just take it, princess.”

Shiu sighs, his focus wavering as you continue to moan and yelp through Toji’s never ending fucking. He lights a cigarette for himself and then hands one to Toji. He takes a hand away from your hip to bring it to his lips, and Shiu proceeds to light his and then his own.

He continues to speak as if nothing is happening. He’s so calm and collected, but it’s no wonder. Toji is a man he’s known for as long as he can remember and he knows all of the complexities that come with him. Not to say that you are complex. You’re probably the best thing that’s ever happened to him, truthfully. But it isn’t as much of a distraction as it seems to be for the rest of his subordinates.

Toji chortles when he watches Shiu slot his thumb into your mouth, his other hand still holding his cigarette with no care to where the ash lands. The lackeys are even more confused, now, do they share you? Toji isn’t the type to share, no, but he isn’t going to chastise Shiu for doing what he needs to do to get through his meeting.

Besides, you look quite cute sucking on his thumb. He always thinks you look cute when you’re sucking on something, though. You hold onto Shiu’s wrist as you suckle on his thumb. And you hate that he won’t give you any attention, especially when you’re blinking up at him with pretty, wet eyes. Doesn’t he want to admire how cute you’re being for him?

You begin to act up, mewling loudly around his fingers as you try to get him to look at you. But it only ends in another wet slap on your pussy from Toji and a particularly rough cantering of his hips. He pulls you back towards him, your shoulder blades cushioned by his pecs as you’re pulled into him.

Shiu wipes your saliva from his thumb onto his blazer and gives you a passive glance before focusing on the men in the room again. He snaps his fingers in a bid to command their attention.

Toji, however, is fixated on you. His sharp canines ghost over your jugular. Your heart rate quickens and so do the shallow breaths escaping your throat. He silences you, his hand smothers your lips as he continues to nip and bite softly with ease. It’s exciting, and terrifying, because you know he could tear out your throat if he really wanted to.

“Did I just hear you beggin’ for another man’s attention, princess?” he whispers, his large palm pushing your legs further apart before repeatedly slapping down against your firm clit. “Is daddy’s cock ruinin’ you not enough, hah? Because I’ll stop, right now, and you can forget about cumming for a while. A long fucking while, darlin’.”

You muffle your protests through his smothering palm. Of course he’s enough! You got carried away, that’s all. He’s more than enough. You don’t need anyone else’s attention. Just him. Only him.

“Heh, that’s what I thought.” he laughs, harshly, licking a fat stripe up your neck with his wide tongue. Tears spill from your eyes as he continues to pound into you, gritting his teeth with each squeeze and stifled moan he’s suffocating with his hand. He wraps his free hand around your torso and drills upwards into your slippery heat.

Your moans become louder as you reach your peak. He repeatedly nudges your sensitive insides in the most beautiful way and forces you to clench and wince and fucking scream through your nostrils as he drags your orgasm out of you.

And eyes begin to turn white as they roll into the back of your head. Your body turns limp as his touch forces an orgasm from your body. Your body is wracked as you violently shake through it, your cunt squirting all over his lap and onto the floor below. He moans, boisterously at your display.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by the men in the room, either, as the sound of gushing water hits the ground below.

Toji bends you over the desk, carnal desire flooding all sense that he has. He pushes your head down so your cheek is squished against the table. You look up at Shiu, blinking pathetically. And now, you do have his attention. Toji hisses, flipping your skirt up to reveal your plump ass. He has no doubt his men will find it difficult not to look.

“Everyone out, now.” he commands, his men readily jump to their feet and begin to filter out of the room. Shiu stubs his cigarette out on the table top, not even an inch away from your nose and he prepares to leave. “Not you. Stay.” Toji orders. Shiu chuckles, weakly, and takes a seat.

“What do I owe this pleasure?” he asks, tucking your hair behind your ear as he watches your fucked out face continue to swallow Toji’s cock again and again. “Sorry I couldn’t give you any attention, angel. That meeting was a disaster, huh?” he smiles.

“This isn’t your pleasure, Shiu.” Toji informs him. “She jus’ likes it when you watch.”

© 2023 rinitxshi

[novemberheart]

{overview} John and you take another leap in your relationship, Kyle makes an unsettling discovery

{warnings} Fem reader, a/b/o dynamics, poly 141, P in V sex, heat cycles, oral & fingering (fem receiving), loss of virginity, cursing, mirror sex, MDNI

Chapter 21 <- Chapter 22 -> Chapter 23

The next few days had gone by without a hitch. It was nice, being domestic with your pack. You spend most of your days going to museums, restaurants, and outdoor activities that are way above your athletic ability. Still, you would be lying if you said you weren't happier than you have ever been- well at least happier than you've been in a while. You and Simon have gotten much closer. He had been making a real effort with you, not that he hadn't before but there was something different about him. His gestures felt more affectionate than out of duty.

That was until you came down with a fever.

“It’s not saying she has a fever, yet she's burning up,” Kyle huffed, pulling a thermometer out of your mouth. You and John eyed each other.

“This a symptom of your heat?” He questioned. Everyone stiffened.

“Yes. But I usually get them after my heat, not before. Before my heat, I’ll get extra sensitive, and my body will start to feel….less stiff. I'll also get this sort of buzz in my stomach,” you explained.

“And I take it you haven't been feeling any of that?” Simon added. You shook your head.

“You don't smell any different,” Johnny added too.

“Well, this may be the start of it, pretty girl. Let's just keep an eye on it, yeah?” John spoke. Everyone nodded.

“I don't want this to happen on vacation,” you started to whine, you quickly caught yourself, your eyes going wide.

“Sensitive, eh?” John chuckled, placing a kiss against your heated head.

“This is the best place for it to happen,” Kyle assured. “Where you're safe with all of us,” Kyle reminded. You breathed out slowly, nodding your head in agreement.

“You're right,” you affirmed.

“The plan is,” John began and you immediately felt a sudden shift in the air. You wondered how many times they have heard John say that. It had an immediate impact on them, their shoulders straightening, eyes narrowing in focus. How many times had their lives depended on those words? Johnny's crow's feet appeared and you ran your thumb over them breaking him out of his trance. He grinned at you, pressing a kiss against your hand before turning back to John. “Me and her will stay in our room,” he spoke looking at Simon. You held your breath, waiting for him to be mad at you. Instead, he nodded his head seemingly unaffected by the words, besides a light blush across his cheeks. “You’re in charge of food and drinks,” he commanded, looking at Johnny who quickly nodded. You winced. Looks like you'll be eating cereal and granola bars for a week. “You’ll be on puppy duty,” he spoke to Kyle, nodding to the lazy ball of fur at your feet.

“How long do your heats last, Bon?”

“Usually a week,” you responded, causing Simon to chuckle.

“Old mans gonna disloca”-

“Fuck off,” John interjected, his own smirk across his face. “I’m two years older than you you twat,”

“I'll sleep on the pull-out in the living room,” Simon spoke. Being in the betas room felt too close to you. “Don't worry about me barging in or anything, yeah?” he soothed.

You felt horrendous for believing he would be upset at you. You offered him a small smile, nodding your head graciously.

“Alright, that's it,” John finished.

Simon grabbed a washcloth, running it under cool water and plopping it on your forehead.

“Remember when you were doing this to me?” he mused, a small smile on his face. That seemed so long ago. That was your first interaction with him. You remember how scared and unsure of yourself you were. Hell, most of that hadn't changed.

“Simon,” you sobbed, your arms wrapping around his waist, making him chuckle.

“Sensitive, pup,” he teased, patting you on the back. “Should get you to bed. A nap might help,” he spoke, mostly to himself. He hoisted you up carrying you to the bedroom, Johnny following close behind. He tossed you on the bed, Johnny quickly hopping in and getting comfortable with you. You watched with tired eyes as Simon began moving his clothes into the beta’s room. He didn't have too many.

“Simon?” you asked softly.

“Pup?”

“Could I have one of your sweatshirts?” you nearly pleaded. He grabbed one off the hanger, rubbing it against the scent glands on his neck before tossing it to you. You bunched it up, using it as a pillow. Leather with an undertone of black licorice making the back of your neck tingle. “Thank you,” you purred lowly.

Your symptoms had progressed. A familiar lax in your body making it a bit hard to move. You had started nesting, stealing things from every member of your pack to make the bed as comfortable as you could. There were slight changes in your scent making their mouths water. John stayed close, wanting you to ease him into a rut instead of it just hitting him.

“How do you feel, lovie?” Kyle hummed.

“My face is hot but my body is cold,” you whined. “And I'm tired,” you huffed.

“Sleep, princess. You'll be needing it,” John chuckled from next to you. Your head peaked up from the pillows.

“You’re the one who’ll need it,” you shot back, a playful glint in your hazy eyes. John’s brows raised, sitting up on one of his elbows.

“You flirtin’ with me now? I'm the one that's supposed to be courting you,” he reminded, tucking you in.

“I’m waiting,” you smirked, causing Kyle to laugh.

“I'll be back,” John insisted, dodging back down the hall.

“I like this feisty you,” Kyle murmured. You chuckled, inching closer to him. When John returned he had a bowl of cut-up fruit and a few snack packs of your favorite snacks.

“Thank you alpha,” you purred, popping a strawberry in your mouth. John purred back, tucking you back in.

“Let me,” he urged, opening a pack of cookies and hand-feeding you.

“I could get used to this,” you smiled between bites.

He woke up before you with a sharp exhale. Your scent hitting him like a bolt of lightning. You were tucked in his side, your hands gripping onto his damp shirt like it would keep you from floating away. You were whimpering quietly, his body reacting to you before he had even opened both his eyes. You needed him.

“I know, pretty,” he soothed quietly, biting back a snarl. He pressed his lips against your shoulder, slowly detaching himself from you. Your nail caught the fabric of his shirt, the sound of the fabric tearing finally waking you up. You watched with bleary eyes as John made his way to the bathroom, tossing his half ripped shirt on the floor. He splashed cold water on his face, even through your tears you could his body shaking.

He was holding himself back.

You could smell it in the air. His blazing scent overshadowing your melted vanilla. Your scent alone would be too much for him, him projecting being his only defense to keep from sinking his teeth into your neck.

You were uncomfortable. Your body too hot and sweaty to even focus on the ache between your thighs. You sat up sluggishly, your feet sinking into the plush carpet. You pulled yourself to stand, making your way to the bathroom. John quickly turned on the shower meeting you halfway. You rested more than half your weight against him, mumbling a small ‘thank you’ as he guided you along.

“May I?” He checked, his fingers curled in the hem of your shirt. You nodded trying your best to hold your arms up to make it easy for him. You already felt a bit cooler as the fabric hit the floor. A pleased rumble echoed in his chest.

“Such a pretty girl I have,” he mumbled more to himself than you. He pulled your sleep shorts and panties down in one motion, his arm resting around your waist to keep you steady. He checked the water temperature, making sure it was cool enough to chill your heated skin but not enough to shock you. “Want me in with you?” he asked softly.

“Please,” you mumbled against his bare chest. He erupted in goosebumps as your hands traveled around his abdomen. He pulled his sweats down, along with his boxers. You swallowed thickly. The sight of him making the sheen of sweat return to your skin. Partly from want- no need, and partly from nerves. He was about half the size of your forearm in length, but the width was really what made you whimper.

“Don’t worry about that right now, pretty,” he soothed, turning you away from him. He apologized as the action caused him to run across your lower back. You shivered, your bottom instinctually arching in the air to meet him. “Good girl,” he praised softly. You were running on instinct, you couldn't help it. Besides, you presented too perfectly for him to not compliment you. He guided you into the shower by your hips.

You purred as the cool water hit your heated skin. He kept his distance, despite the sight before him, his hands keeping a firm grasp on you to keep you steady. You turned under the waterfall, your hands pulling him closer by his arm.

“I want to feel you,” you mumbled. The little self-control he had snapping. He gripped the back of your thighs, hoisting you up, pressing you against the tile of the shower. Your arms quickly found his neck, your mouths desperately connecting.

“You don't know how long I've wanted you,” he growled back. He was all-consuming. You're hardly able to keep up with his words. His lips leave yours for just a moment to bite at whatever skin he can before returning to them. You could feel the tip of his cock brush against your bottom, the little action having your eyes rolling back.

“Then take me,” you gasped. “I’m yours.”

His groan was toe curling, his hand reaching below you to switch the water off. He kept you close, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you back to bed. He tossed you down, his hands finding your ankles. You watched, waiting for what his next move would be. You expected him to spread your legs apart, and begin to work himself inside of you, yet all he did was stare. He raised your legs up, pressing a soft kiss to the heel of each foot. He worked his way to your core slowly. A kiss against your ankle, then up your calves, then up your thighs, stopping just before your dripping entrance. His beard felt just how you had imagined it, your hand grabbing his hair and pulling him towards you.

“What, pretty girl? Tell me what you need,” he said softly, his breath against you causing you to jolt.

“You,” you sniffed softly, hoping a small buck of your hips would drive the point home. He rubbed his cheek against the inside of your thigh, pressing a teasing kiss against your heat. He wanted more. You could tell by the way his dark eyes stared at you expectantly.

“I want your mouth, Alpha. Please,” you pleaded. His eyes grew heavy at the request. Your body nearly lifted off the mattress as he licked across your aching heat.

“Thank you,” you hissed, your nails digging into his shoulders. He groaned against you, making you jolt.

“The boys weren't lying when they said you asked nicely,” he smiled against you, not giving you any time to relax before his mouth enveloped your cunt. It was a completely new feeling, one that had you choking on a moan. You didn't bother to hide it, not that you could with his hand wrapped around your wrist. It was hardly a minute before a (now) familiar tightness filled your abdomen, your hands fighting to break free just so you could grab onto something to steady yourself. You were chanting his name, which only seemed to spur him on. You came with a moan that made even him flush. Your legs pressed against his head but he didn't care.

The hardest part was pulling his mouth away from you. Your sweetness already becoming another vice to him. Your teary eyes stared down at him like he had done something wrong- made you cum too hard for your own good. He tried to take it slow, ease you off the cliff gently, but once he got you in his jaws he couldn't let go. He’ll make it up to you.

He kissed up past your belly button, trying not to smirk at the way your chest heaved up and down. His tongue darted out, dragging through the valley of your breasts and up to your collarbone. He shushed you gently, his thumbs wiping the fat crocodile tears that rolled down your cheek. You were so sensitive, both physically and emotionally. Your shaky legs found his waist, your heels digging into his lower back. You weren't too deep into your heat, the attention he was giving you making you more aware.

“You okay for more, sweetheart?” he questioned softly, his thumbs still brushing against your heated cheeks. You nodded instantly, your hand cupping his face pulling him down. You could taste yourself against him. Johnny was right, you were sweet. He held himself above you, one of his hands traveling down the curves of your body- slowly like he was trying to memorize each dip. The back of his hand brushed against your thigh- red from the friction of his beard- his fingertips running over your slick gently. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, your eyes trained on the ceiling. He hummed softly, grabbing your attention, his forehead resting against yours.

His normal blue eyes were dark like a shark's, but he still held enough softness in them to ease your worries. You doubted your eyes looked any different. His fingers brushed up and down you for a moment before leaving to wrap around his cock. Your eyes naturally followed his movement. He was flushed and angry-looking, his hand providing little relief. His lips connected with yours unexpectedly, your nails finding their way to his back. His chest rumbled at the sensation.

You broke the kiss when he ran his tip across your folds. You gasped against him, your eyes immediately traveling down his strong torso to between your thighs. “John,” you gasped softly, your legs spreading a little wider for him. He was teasing you. Applying just enough pressure to make you whine but not enough to really cause any pleasure. He shushed you, his lips dancing across your cheek like he was apologizing for not giving you what you needed.

He sat up suddenly, grabbing you by your thighs so you were sitting with your back against his chest, his cock heavy against your bottom. His hands held your thighs apart, rubbing up and down them soothingly. His thumb skimmed against your clit, before pressing down, giving you the sensation you were so desperately chasing. You pressed your hand against your lips, but it was quickly pulled away.

“Don’t shy away now,” he hummed, as your hips began to move away from his hand. “Need you to relax for this part, pretty girl,” he directed. The feeling of his thumb against you was enough to distract you from the finger prodding at your entrance. He sunk in slowly, your copious amount of slick making it less of a challenge. He cursed under his breath at the tightness around his finger. “Gotta work you open, pretty,” he mumbled against your shoulder.

You removed your head from under his chin, your eyes slowly opening, connecting with his through the mirror on the closet door. You moaned at the contact, your eyes scanning lower to his hand between your thighs.

“Like watching yourself?” he chuckled, keeping his gaze steady. He began working another finger in creating a slight burning sensation. He went slow feeling the way your walls adjusted to him. He growled against your neck, practically able to feel you wrapped around his cock. The burn faded as he curled his fingers, brushing against a spot that made your head fall back against his shoulder. “That's it hmmm?” he smiled against your shoulder. The tightness in your stomach was returning. Your hand gripped his wrist between your thighs, your hips grinding against him. “Look at yourself, pretty,” he commanded, his hazy eyes watching your reaction as he pumped his fingers. You complied, watching yourself unravel. “Little more, princess. Can feel you shaking around me.”

A tidal wave crashed over you, your hand nearly ripping him away. He was stronger than you, keeping his thumb against you as you shook in his arms. He growled praises against your ear, watching carefully as you worked through your high.

He was a lucky man.

You rolled over, and he accommodated by laying on his back. You panted against his stomach, the fire in your belly still hardly fading. You were getting thrown more and more into your heat. John could smell it on you. Your teeth scraped against his chest, pressing a few ‘thank you’ kisses against him. You sat up, your thighs on either side of him. He guided you so you were propped up and you watched with murky eyes as his cock immediately sprung to rest against his stomach. You suddenly felt guilty. He had given you two earth-shattering orgasms and you had hardly given him any attention.

He guided your hips back down so he was nestled perfectly between your folds. You got the hint and began rocking your hips back and forth, earning a groan from both of you.

“That's it, pretty girl, just like that,” he groaned. You were so warm, your drooling cunt making it so easy for him to slide back and forth. He cursed, his hands running up your sides. His thumbs brushed over your nipples making you lose your rhythm. He growled, flipping the two of you over so he was on top resting between your thighs. “Can’t take much more, love,” he breathed.

“I’m ready,” you panted, your hands pressed against his abdomen.

“Tell me if I need to stop,” he requested, causing you to nod your head. He paused for a moment, shifting you so you could watch yourself in the mirror. Just the sight of him on top of you, your legs spread wide for him made you pulse. “Not fair I get this beautiful sight to myself,” he whispered against your cheek. You whined, your back arching off the bed. He angled himself against you, the tip of his cock already spreading you as much as his fingers had.

“John,” you gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck. He kept you close, his hold on you assuring and unwavering, despite the way his body trembled. You groaned, the stretch seemingly never-ending. You could feel every twitch as he rolled his way in.

“So bloody tight,” he cursed, his mouth hanging open in bliss. “Doing so good for me,” he praised. It wasn't a sharp pain like you were expecting, but it burned. Your face pressed against his shoulder, his back marked with crimson ropes. He had finally worked his way inside you, your walls desperately trying to adjust. He imagined it would hurt more if he stayed stationary inside you. He moved his hips back slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you. He moved his shoulder away, pressing his forehead against yours. You were uncomfortable, the sight making his alpha restless.

He pushed back in, the friction making you squirm.

“John,” you whined. He rolled his hips back and forth slowly, adding more distance with each thrust. He was halfway buried inside you, rolling his hips forward in one swift motion. Your eyes fell shut, your mouth parting with a moan of his name.

“That's it, pretty,” he groaned, repeating the action. The stretch that had made it almost unbearable was causing pleasure to scorch through your veins with every thrust. “Fuckin’ made for me weren’t ya,’” he groaned. It wasn't even a question at this point, it was a fact. Your cunt molding to fit him. Your heels pressed against his back, hoping to lessen the time he wasn't buried inside you.

You opened your mouth, the words you were wanting to say being ruined by a sloppy moan.

“What, pretty,” he pressed. “Talk to me.”

“Feels so good,” you whined pitifully.

“Yeah?” he growled, his strong hips snapping against you. His pace had picked up, his thrusts becoming more and more purposeful. His thumb skimmed across the corner of your lip, swiping away your drool. “What feels good?” he questioned. You could hardly think, let alone voice those thoughts.

“Your cock,” you managed, your whole body flushed from pleasure and embarrassment. He held your chin gently, moving your head so you had the perfect view of him rolling in and out of you in the mirror. His pace had slowed down again, not wanting to rush this moment in the slightest. “Alpha,” you whined, your hands gripping the wrist that was still holding your chin.

“Look so good with my cock in you, don't you?” his voice was tender, his lips pressed against the shell of your ear.

His hand left your face, his thumb finding a familiar rhythm between your legs.

“Too much,” you gasped, but made no move to stop him, your body becoming more and more addicted to this new euphoric high. “Cum in me,” you pleaded, causing his hips to stutter against you. “Please,” you begged, looking up at him through wet lashes. He wasn't deep enough in a rut to give you a knot, but that doesn't mean he couldn't fill you to the hilt.

“Whatever you need, love,” he soothed. You were shaking. Your claws had already shredded the sheets. “Gonna be a good girl and come on my cock?” he asked. The only thing you could do was nod. You were focusing on it too much, your brows furrowed waiting for the tension in your stomach to release. He smacked your bottom, catching you off guard for the wave of your orgasm to finally wash over you. You gushed around him, a shriek leaving you as your walls spasmed around him eliciting his own release. He came with a booming groan, his vision spotting from the intensity.

His arms giving out from under him sinking both of you into the mattress.

It took ten minutes for both of you to calm down.

“You alright?” he checked, his fingers running over your heated cheek.

“Yeah,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his still-twitching form. “You?”

“Gonna be honest, sweetheart. Never had anything like that,” he panted, placing kisses against any skin he could reach. You believed him. While this was your first time, you knew this wasn't the standard. He had softened out of you, his cum leaving you in a puddle. “Let's get you cleaned up,” he soothed, hoisting you up.

He decided on a bath this time. His hands working against your skin to clean away the mess he had made. You had fallen asleep against him in the tub, happy omega filtering through the air, making him purr. He stayed there till your skin began to prune. It has been a long time since he's been this content. Not that his boys didn't make him happy. You were different, you were his omega. The missing piece of the puzzle. The piece that held peace, safety, and comfort. Kate was right when she said she could smell it on them- their need for an omega. He had been a fool for going this long without one. But if he had done it too soon he wouldn't have ended up with you.

He tucked the two of you in, curling himself around you hoping to get some purrs out of you. Even in your sleep, you could recognize the safety of his arms, a purr of appreciation rumbling through your lax body.

“I love you,” he murmured against the crown of your head, slowly slipping off into his own hibernation.

“Something I need to talk to the two of you about,” Kyle sighed. The three of them had moved outside just after the first few muffled moans vibrated against the door.

Johnny opened his eyes, looking up at Kyle whilst his head was resting in his lap. Simon grunted in acknowledgment.

“You looked at her tracking app lately?” Kyle questioned, causing both of them to shake their heads. Of course not, you had been with them for the past two weeks. “I thought it was a glitch at first, or maybe the app had accidentally connected to someone else's chip, but it was labeled under her name,” Kyle explained. Johnny sat up.

“What was labeled?” he urged, his heart falling into his stomach. He and Simon shared a look.

“Another chip,” Kyle clarified. Simon's jaw clenched.

“What does that mean?” he snipped. “She has another chip?”

“She said she never had one,” Johnny reminded, his stomach growing uneasy. He had always been the quickest to jump to emotions.

“Or she has one she doesn't know about.”

Hi everyone! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! See you in two days for chapter 23!!!! 🧡

[cera-writes]

Ehehehe Gambit! Yes hi you’ve probably already written something like this but can I have some Gambit smut with him being all like gentle and stuff? Like, a lot of praise and a lot of gentle whispering during it? And if you wouldn’t mind I’d like it to be gender neutral (afab reader is fine I don’t mind but just the pronouns and stuff)

I absolutely love your work!

A/N: Thank you! We love a soft dom Remy <3 Pairing: Remy LeBeau x gn!Reader Tags: sweet sensual sex, Dom-Remy, praise, mutual consent, adoration, body worship

"Be Gentle."

The soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the curtains of the X-Mansion, casting long shadows across the wooden floors. You were sipping a glass of wine, its contents doing little to ease your anxiety about tonight. You and Remy had already been intimate with one another a couple of times before this, but tonight would be different. You had asked him to show his softer side. You took another shaky swig of the cabernet sauvignon and set the glass down on the coffee table when you heard footsteps approaching.

Remy LeBeau, his usual swagger softened by a tender smile, approached you where you stood in the living room, seemingly waiting for him. You turned, feeling his presence as he swaggered over to you. Your eyes met his, and without a word, he extended his hand.

"Mm, don' you look like a sweet slice o' cherry pie..." he smirked, taking you in as his eyes slid over your form. Between missions and putting the sake of humanity first, there'd been little time to really give in to the sexual part of your relationship with him in quite a while. But you knew one thing, and that one thing was that you absolutely needed to be swept up in the Cajun man before you lost your own sanity.

As if sensing your anxiety, he gently beckoned you. "Come wit' Remy," his voice a low, soothing whisper that seemed to caress the air between you both. You hesitated for a moment, your nerves evident despite the established intimacy of your relationship. Remy's eyes reflected understanding and a promise of gentleness as he stepped closer, closing the distance between your bodies.

"Gambit know you asked for gentle tonight, cher," he whispered, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. "Let Remy show you how gentle he can be."

His words were a balm to your anxiety, and you nodded, allowing Remy to lead you up the stairs and down the quiet corridor to his bedroom. The door clicked softly shut behind you, sealing the two of you into a world of your own.

Remy turned to face you, his hands resting gently on both sides of your face. He leaned in, his lips barely touching your ear as he spoke, "You are beautiful, y'know dat? Gods, chere... every part of you is perfect." His praise was sincere, each word carefully chosen to soothe and arouse you. And Gods, was it already working. Your breath hitched in your throat, heart beating wildly as he spoke sweet words of affirmation to you.

As he pulled back slightly, his hands began a slow, deliberate journey down the your already goosebumped arms, stopping to intertwine your fingers. "Remy wanna touch every inch of you," he murmured, guiding your hands to rest upon his chest. You could feel the rapid thump of his heart beneath your palm, a tangible sign of his desire.

"Take your time chere," Remy encouraged, his voice still a whisper, yet filled with command. "Explore me."

Nodding, you allowed your hands to roam over Remy's body, guided by his gentle but firm direction. Each touch was met with a soft groan or a whispered compliment, heightening the intimacy of the moment. You bit your lip. "Remy..."

"Dat's it, cher," Remy breathed as your delicate fingertips deliberately traced the strong contours of his abdomen. "Si bon."

The room was charged with tension, thick and palpable. Remy's gaze never left the your blushed face, his eyes dark with passion yet clear with intent. He brought one of your shaking hands to his lips, kissing each knuckle with deliberate tenderness before stepping back slightly.

"Now, let Gambit see you," he requested softly, his hands reaching for the hem of the your shirt. With careful movements, he lifted it over your head, his eyes conveying nothing but reverence. "You takin' Remy's breath away," he admitted, his voice rough with emotion.

You bit your lip once more in shy reverence, too timid to meet his gaze while exposed but still, you felt safe even under Remy's intense scrutiny. He moved closer again, his hands ghosting over your skin with a featherlight touch that sent shivers down your spine. "Look at me, chere," his voice a low murmur, tilting your chin up to meet his lustful eyes. "Every part of you... jus' fascinant, "he repeated, his voice a reverential hush.

He led you slowly towards the bed, his movements unhurried and deliberate. As you sat side by side, Remy continued his gentle exploration, his hands and lips leaving trails of fire wherever they touched. "You feel so incredible," he murmured, his lips brushing against the your neck.

You gasped at the sensation, your body responding instinctively to Remy's skilled seduction as you let a soft moan escape your lips. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Relax, cher," he whispered, his hands moving to cup your flushed face. "Lemme take care of you."

With that, he eased you back onto the bed, following you down with a lithe grace that belied his strength. His body covered yours, not exactly pinning you down but offering a protective warmth. "Look at Remy," he demanded softly, his eyes locking with yours. "Only me."

You obeyed silently, your breathing quickening as Remy's hands and lips worked their magic. Each touch was calculated, each kiss placed with precision, building a slow, simmering heat between you both. "You're doin' so well," Remy praised, punctuating his words with gentle nips along the reader's jawline.

"Ah, Remy!..." you'd managed to breathe out, your voice a mix of need and utter surrender. This wasn't your first time with him, but Gods did he make it feel like a whole new experience when he worshipped every inch of you.

"Shh, cher," he soothed, his lips finding the yours once more. "Jus' feel."

And so you did, lost in the dance of his touch, guided by Remy's hands as he worked you into a frenzied, dazed mess.

Remy's hands roamed over your aching nether regions, his touch becoming more assertive as your passion was quickly nearing its zenith. His breath was hot against your neck as he nipped and bit the skin there, his own hardness pressed firmly and achingly against your thigh with need.

"Mon ange," he whispered, his voice thick with lust. "Tu es si belle, si parfaitement délicieuse." His fingers traced patterns on your skin, one hand playing with your chest and the other still between your legs, igniting sparks of pleasure with each stroke.

Your eyes fluttered closed, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you. Remy continued, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Je veux te posséder, te sentir à moi tout entière." He dragged his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Fireworks ignited behind your eyelids as you threw your head back, mouth forming the words, "Oh fuck, Remy!"

He grinned, eyes half lidded with pure lust as he reached for a condom and quickly slid it over his rock hard length. "Ready for me, chere?"

You bit your lip hard enough to nearly draw blood as he hiked one of your legs up, lining himself up with you. Once he entered you, his pace was slow at first before he settled into a comfortable rhythm between you both. You hissed in pleasure as you braced yourself on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. "Laisse-moi te baiser si bien..." he smirked, a flicker that same manner of cockiness in his voice that he usually spoke to you with, evident in his voice for a sheer second.

Remy's words became more fervent as he picked up his pace, needing to feel every bit of you. "Ouvre-toi à moi, laisse-moi t'aimer comme tu le mérites." He took one of your hands, bringing it to his lips before peppering kisses against your knuckles, his eyes boring into yours with half lust and half adoration at the sight of you under him. You were no longer trying to bite back moans as he thrusted over and over, ever so deliciously inside of you.

His hands then gripped your hips, guiding them into the rhythm that promised sweet release.

You arched into him, your body trembling with anticipation. He soothingly rubbed circles against the dip of your hip with one hand, the other still gripping your waist as he held you in that ecstacy shattering rhythm. "Dat's it, chere..." Remy's voice was a soothing balm amidst the storm of sensation. "C'est bon, mon cher. Laisse-toi aller à moi." You were flush against his skin, taking him the deepest you've ever felt him inside of you as you moaned deliciously, eyes rolling back.

With a final, urgent whisper of "Viens avec moi," Remy brought you both over the edge, your bodies entwined in a dance of pure pleasure and finally, sweet release. Your breaths mingled, heavy and ragged, as you floated back to earth, wrapped in the afterglow of passion fulfilled.

He kissed your temple before rubbing soothing circles on your back, cuddling into you as his breathing evened back out from fucking you so earth shatteringly good. "That was..." you trailed off blissfully as a yawn escaped your lips.

"Everythin' and more chere. Je vous aime."

And with that, you both eased into a blissfully pleased and fulfilled sleep.

[resart]

The Inconspicuous Writing Gem: Daeran’s Look-alike Contest Breakdown

The Dance of Masks brought the long-anticipated last hurrah to the Knight Commander’s story. Although it was announced that the DLC would focus on the companions, I wasn’t holding my breath for substantial content that would actually enrich the characters’ plots. The game is already massive and has a ton of variables, so expecting the writers to continue storylines that can have multiple outcomes would be unreasonable. But one scene far exceeded my expectations and set the bar high for the rest of the expansion, rendering me more critical about some of its elements than I would normally be. The event in question may not appear as much, but the true artistry in writing stories driven by the player’s choice fully reveals itself in what we don’t see on the surface. Daeran’s look-alike contest varies greatly, depending on how his personal quest was resolved, and, therefore, serves as a semi-epilogue to his arc. I wanted to post an analysis of his character’s progression for quite some time, and this send-off is a fitting opportunity to delve into this matter. I’ll break down the differences in the new scene as well as in a few others and share my overall thoughts on what this addition brings to the table. Brace yourself because it’s going to be long.

I'll start with a quick reminder of what Daeran’s questline outcomes are, because I'm going to reference them a lot:

Good, in which he’s openly grateful to the Knight Commander despite having to face the tribunal, and Liotr, noticing their bond, intervenes so the Inquisition doesn't lock him up;

Lobotomy, in which Daeran reluctantly accepts his predicament of having to face the trial, Liotr doesn't support him and after the crusade, the Count is sent to the asylum and lobotomized;

HappyEvil, in which the Commander kills Liotr to secure Daeran’s freedom;

ArchEvil, in which Daeran doesn't have any trust in the Commander, feels deserted and murders Liotr to avoid the trial.

At first glance, there's nothing profound about Daeran’s festival quest — it fits his image to indulge in the vain act of self-celebration by choosing the most accurate imitation of himself. However, this simple setup proves itself clever when we realize that, by observing the contestants, he sees himself in a distorting mirror. Coincidentally, each participant appears to represent a different facet of the Count’s character. Therefore, his reactions to them speak volumes of the self-image and mindset he developed during the crusade in each scenario.

Among the doubles, we have an aasimar who mimics Daeran's arrogance and cruelty, and constantly interrupts other participants' speeches with mocking remarks.

A woman who recreates Daeran's sophisticated bon vivant persona.

A drunkard who paints Daeran as a worthless and utterly unapologetic rake.

And finally, an innocent boy who keeps staring at Daeran with admiration and portrays him as a virtuous hero of the crusade.

After the presentation of the contestants is over, Daeran asks the Commander’s opinion. Again, his responses to their verdict vary in each case (unless they choose the cat), but the difference in how he reacts to being compared to the little boy is the most telling.

No matter what the protagonist suggests, the winner of the contest is fixed for each of the outcomes. If the Commander failed to earn Daeran's trust and he murdered Liotr himself, the conceited aasimar is declared the winner.

If the Commander killed Liotr, the Count awards the lady.

If the quest was resolved peacefully (either Good or Lobotomy), Daeran chooses the boy and has a heartwarming exchange with him.

This variety of possible scenarios and the way they are handled encapsulate why I consider Daeran's story so intricately woven and enjoyable to analyze. He's an incredibly flexible and dynamic character whose potential endings range from becoming a saint to a homicidal maniac. But what makes this duality and everything that comes in between so engaging is that all these vastly contradictory conclusions are equally organic and convincing, given his rich characterization and the player’s choices. The subtle yet significant divergences in the narrative paths maintain the integrity of his personality and prevent his evolution from seeming far-fetched while efficiently showcasing his growth or regression.

Regretfully, this attention to detail is missing from the other new scenes, which don't convey a similar sense of progression and can come off as somewhat disconnected from the rest of the playthrough. The rendezvous, for example, avoids references to how the player concluded Daeran's romance and quest. Given these plotlines' non-linearity, it's an understandable approach, but it prevents the scene from exploring deeper themes and hitting more emotional notes. What's particularly detrimental to the its overall intensity is the absence of exclusive dialogue for the True Love outcome. Ironically, it's the two worst endings that get unique and surprisingly heartfelt lines.

The difference is insignificant, however, because the conversation always plays out the same. All in all, the segment is nice and leaves a lot to the imagination, but only partially exploits its potential. Meanwhile, the festival mini-quest embraces the aforementioned strengths of the storyline's writing, giving every iteration of Daeran distinct dialogues that clearly demonstrate the impact the crusade and acquaintance with the Commander had on him.

I won't examine every dialogue branch in detail but will mainly focus on the Good scenario. As someone who likes this ending the best and even advocates the controversial writing in the final confrontation with Liotr, I always thought the narrative failed to properly sell its implied benefits. Apart from the closing conversation in the quest itself, late-game provides little reactivity to differentiate the outcomes, making it hard for the players to fully grasp the internal shift that Daeran undergoes. Comparison of said dialogue in various scenarios reveals his perspective in Good route as the least egocentric and overall most mature. Unfortunately, in an individual playthrough, these qualities can get overshadowed by the Count's dissatisfaction with the inconveniences he will eventually have to endure.

Aside from that, the effects of each resolution manifest only in Daeran's responses to one question in the romantic route and how he expressed his feelings regarding Galfrey’s death.

Even though they show evident contrast and serve as a much-needed emotional pay-off for the moral dilemma the player faced in the storyline finale, both are relatively minor, with the Queen one completely missable in most playthroughs. When combined with the similar omission of negative repercussions for Daeran’s moral condition and emotional maturity in other outcomes, it's not surprising many players believe he doesn’t ever change or that becoming better fundamentally clashes with his nature.

The discussed competition scene remedies the narrative’s deficiencies, ultimately proving this statement untrue. In the Good outcome, Daeran presents a reasonable dose of self-distance. When confronted with the drunk’s insults, he replies with humor and courtesy, which is a stark contrast to his reactions in the Evil outcomes and his past responses to criticism. Despite being hurt by the harsh judgment, he understands such a low opinion of himself is somewhat justified. The Count's mild response and his sensitivity to the suggestion that he's nothing more than an unfeeling scoundrel may even indicate that he has developed some remorse for his past actions. He also dismisses unwarranted flattery and distances himself from the brash egotism. All without falling into a spiral of gloom and self-deprecation that occurs in the Lobotomy scenario. Introspectiveness and vulnerability showcased here are a seamless continuation of the self-evaluation Daeran does in the High Trust version of his quest upon being supposedly betrayed by the Commander.

It's all the more unfortunate that the other interactions in the DLC don’t acknowledge these differences and instead return to the common denominator of all endings. As a result, the player will go from Daeran, who self-reflects and claims the aasimar presents an unfunny caricature of him, to Daeran in the tavern, who puffs himself up exactly like the guy (using even the same words) and seeks more sycophantic praise. While it's expected for him to put on an airy act and tease others, the absolute lack of self-awareness he previously exhibits in the Good route is quite jarring. Considering the complexity of the storyline as well as all sorts of limitations, such inconsistencies are inevitable (the base game already has a fair share of them) and in the end, one can easily reconcile them through their own interpretations. However, after being spoiled by a reactivity treat like the festival mini-quest, it's disappointing that the remaining dialogues lack similar nuance.

In the Good scenario, Daeran's behavior reinforces what we learn in the epilogue — that in this version, he has the most difficulty navigating through his newfound freedom and redefining himself in it. Choosing the winner of a silly contest shouldn't be hard for him, and it isn't in the Evil outcomes. There, the self-satisfied Count (who in both cases already has the blood of at least one innocent man on his hands) picks what he perceives as an idealized version of himself — be it the aestheticized depiction of his self-centredness or the unbridled and unyielding haughtiness. Noteworthily, in the Happy variant, Daeran openly flirts with the lady and, in both Evil paths, if not romanced, attempts to seduce his favored contestant. It’s peak narcissism, given the implications of the scene. In the peaceful outcomes, especially the Good one, the ordeal is a series of unpleasant self-reflections that even causes him to become overwhelmed by sorrow at one point. In the end, Daeran’s choice stems not from an ulterior motive or a desire to boost his ego but from genuine fondness for the boy. The youngster's belief in the Count’s kindness and heroism reminds him of his own innocence that was prematurely and brutally snatched from him. At his core, Daeran is not a self-sufficient master of his own fate but a helpless child thrown by unfortunate circumstances into otherworldly oppression and a vicious cycle of selfishness. In the Evil routes, he successfully deludes himself into believing he’s the former, but here, he realizes he’s the latter.

We're used to seeing Daeran scoffing at saccharine narratives and lofty ideals, and in the Evil versions, he's indeed annoyed with the boy’s portrayal of him. In one of them, he even anticipates him to be disenchanted, finding the prospect amusing. In the campaign's early stages, the Count voices his dissatisfaction with being enrolled in the crusade and laments the tarnishing of his ill reputation. Any suggestions that he may be secretly vulnerable are met with biting retorts. But now, Daeran doesn't disabuse the child and isn’t even bothered by being seen as a heroic figure. There also isn’t any objection when the Commander points out the similarity between him and the boy. He’s shocked they can see through him but decides to be honest and agrees with their assessment. Daeran’s sensitivity and his tendency to be more emotionally transparent with the protagonist is, at this point, a recurring theme in the peaceful outcomes, so it’s a shame that when they later choose to compliment his vulnerable soul, he's always equally dismissive.

Daeran is perfectly aware of how damaging cruel disillusionment can be to one’s psyche. As a child, he witnessed firsthand the powerlessness of good in the face of evil, the suffering adhering to moral principles can bring, and how those who claim to be righteous can turn out to be as callous and uncaring as hardened villains. These experiences left the young Count with a pessimistic view of the world and human nature, making him adopt coping mechanisms that only deepened his melancholy and loneliness. Knowing this, he wishes to spare the boy a similar fate and plays along to preserve his innocence.

In the non-peaceful outcomes, Daeran gives the signet away as if it was an insignificant bauble. But even though we barely ever see this side of him, some dialogues indicate he’s proud of his heritage and his ancestors' role in Mendev’s history. They were valiant defenders of the kingdom, who, for generations, protected its borders from any threat. This is who the Count, as a scion of the Arendae house, was originally destined to be and who, it so happens, the boy sees in him. Perhaps his take on him makes Daeran reflect on how differently things could have turned out had it not been for his family's demise and the Other’s interference. It undoubtedly revokes memories of his roots and deceased kin, since he not only rewards the child with the ring but also educates him on its meaning and sentimental value, expressing unexpected sincerity and kindness. In the Lobotomy scenario, this gesture is particularly bittersweet — with his impeding childless death, Daeran’s lineage is going to expire, making the memento the only way to keep its memory alive.

Finally, the Good version of the scene carries a deep symbolic significance. Daeran rewards one person who doesn't focus on his superficial traits or recreates the mask he hides behind. The image the boy paints of him may not be accurate, but while the other portrayals embody what the Count turned into under the Other's influence, this one shows what he could have been if he hadn’t lost the childish naivety he now longs for. And who he, despite his own skepticism, still can or perhaps even already started to become, thanks to the good protagonist's compassion and support. Just like the Commander, the boy views him as someone better than what his predicament forced him to be. And Daeran, confronted with sincere faith in him, cannot help but answer the call.

[peachdues]

Your Beauty Never, Ever Scared Me

A/N: oh boy, I just couldn't leave this storyline alone, could I?

Inspired by a post from @aagod who pointed out how amazing the trope is of touching/kissing/caressing one's scars, and I was a WHORE for it. This is inspired by that one line from this song.

But because I have never been brief about anything in my entire life (that's why I'm about to be an attorney), I had to write out a full-length fic set in the Wind & Moon universe.

I also had fun with expanding upon the concept of the Lunar Hashira, including a new breathing form, as well as a special weapon for Y/N! See the end for a link to a visual of a naginata (pole) blade.

Word count: 6.3k

CW: angst, fluff, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, fucking in a hot spring. Pining Sanemi, soft Sanemi; shoulder injury, improper setting of a dislocated joint; scar worship (?).

Bon appetite!

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

It was supposed to have been a one-time thing.

Even though he had asked her to return to his estate for nightly training sessions, she had told him “no.”

It isn’t that Y/N doesn’t want him — she does very much so, to the point it pains her — but agreeing to continue this thing that had grown between them was a door she would not open.

She couldn’t.

Not when a career with the Demon Slayer Corps was akin to putting one foot across the line to the afterlife. Not when opening her heart up meant losing everything again.

And Y/N knows she already cares for the Wind Pillar far too much.

It pained her to establish distance between them over the last two weeks, even more so whenever she saw Sanemi Shinazugawa’s eyes linger on her for a second too long at their Pillar meetings, the hurt and longing in his eyes undeniable. He does not act any differently towards her, but she casn see the question torturing him every time she met that lilac gaze.

Why?

Because she wanted to. Because he had kissed her first, so really, it was his fault. Because she had melted the second his lips crashed against hers, and she had been so tired of wanting but never being allowed to have, and she wanted for once to be selfish.

But she had been selfish, and every day since she has been the direct cause of Sanemi Shinazugawa’s pain, and the thought is slowly wearing down the remains of her tattered heart into nothing.

But she loves him too much to want to lose him, so she does nothing.

——————————————-

They are sent on a mission together the next day.

The target is a suspected Lower Moon, located in some dense forest on the other side of the mountainous range surrounding the Demon Slayer Corp’s safe haven.

Rationally, Y/N knows why they’ve been paired together. She knows that his offensive Wind Breathing coupled with her more defensive style of Lunar breathing complement each other well in battle, each breathing style able to make up for the pitfalls of the other.

Still, Y/N thinks the universe is playing a damn cruel joke in making their fighting styles so compatible. It almost feels like a taunt.

They make small talk as they travel towards the demon’s location, every step fraying what’s left of Y/N’s delicate nerves. Her hand closes and releases the smooth shaft of her niichirin naginata blade — a specially forged weapon uniquely suited to her command over Lunar Breathing — as they near their target, her anxiety palpable.

She is not necessarily anxious over the fight — she is more anxious about whom she is fighting beside.

Nervous, because she told Shinazugawa that they could only ever be friends, yet she knows the second she thinks he might be in danger, she won’t hesitate to pitch herself in front of him. A hypocrite.

As she mulls over the thought, Y/N sourly thinks that the Master was probably right about relationships amongst the Hashira. She could not be trusted because she wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice the world to keep her Wind Pillar safe, even though he wasn’t hers at all.

The pair come upon the ruins of a small village, most of the buildings in great disrepair and in various stages of decay. Both slayers, however, pick up on the foul odor emanating from one of the more stable buildings to their left.

Y/N looks to Shinazugawa, who nods in confirmation. That is where their target is most likely lurking.

“I’ll go through the front. Can you find your way in from the back or from above?” Shinazugawa asks, drawing his blade.

Y/N nods. “I’ll cover you.” She brings her naginata to her front, swiping the blade in a long, graceful arc up as she summons her first form, Night of the New Moon, to act as a temporary cloak for the Wind Pillar.

“See ya inside,” Shinazugawa takes off into the crescent-shaped void, not wanting to lose the temporary advantage her technique provides them.

Y/N darts around the side of the crumbling hut and finds a hole large enough to slip through in its rotting roof, joining the battle already raging within.

———————-

The fight against the Lower Moon had been relatively easy — it had almost seemed a waste to send two Hashira to complete the job, given how quickly they had managed to incapacitate the demon. But the tricky part had been in the demon’s blood art, with it capable of creating full, flesh and blood clones of itself that were just as strong as its main body. Though Sanemi ultimately manages to lob off the head of the main body while Y/N held off four — four — of the accursed demon’s equally powered clones at once, the Lower Moon is able to hurtle one last attack towards the Wind Pillar, who is still airborne as he comes down from wielding the final blow.

Sanemi is just barely able to brace himself for impact as the flash of red light sluices towards him, and he feels a slight twinge of dread because he knows he is unable to twist out of the way as he falls through the air. But just before the posthumous attack can land on its target, a flurry of silver and black materializes before him, naginata spinning rapidly in her hand as she summons her eighth form to shield him for the second time since they had started fighting together.

Y/N’s Lunar Eclipse technique absorbs the full force of the demon’s attack, but because she launched herself from the upper balcony of the rotting house where she had been battling the demon’s clones to guard him mid-air, she is unable to get into the requisite defensive stance Sanemi knows she needs for the proper execution of the technique.

So he is helpless to watch as the recoil from the clash of the demon’s attack with Y/N’s defensive maneuver sends her flying backward through a crumbling wood wall, helpless to do anything but yell her name, his free hand grasping uselessly at the air as she sails away from him.

Sanemi feels a sick sense of deja vu as he tears through the rubble into the adjacent room where she has been thrown, thinking back to the first time she had used that breathing form to save him, when she had nearly lost all of her internal organs. Hot panic roils in his stomach as he clamps down the roar building in his chest, moving to yank a large, broken piece of wood out of his way, uncovering the scowling Lunar Pillar.

Sanemi wastes no time grabbing Y/N by the waist and hauling her up to inspect her, eyes wild and frantic as he looked over her for injury.

Y/N groans, sending a fresh wave of anxiety sludging through him as he waits for the coppery tang of blood to hit his nose, to confirm his worst fears that she is seriously wounded, too much so to be able to wait for the Kakushi, and-.

“Shinazugawa,” Y/N’s voice breaks through the roaring in his head. “Shinazugawa. Sanemi.” She grits out, left hand rising to grasp his forearm, nails digging into his skin to command his attention. “I am unharmed.” Sanemi finally meets her eyes, breath still coming fast and hard in his panic, though his erratic heart begins to slow at her words.

Y/N winces, the hand around him flying to the shoulder of her sword arm as she hisses through clenched teeth.

Sanemi sees then the odd slump of her shoulder, as though the joint were sitting lower, an odd gap forming in the fabric of her haori.

Sanemi recognizes the injury, his jaw clenching as anger chases away the panic that had been bubbling within him. “Your shoulder. You dislocated it.”

Y/N shimmies from his grasp, head falling forward slightly to avoid his gaze.  And for some reason, her refusal to meet his eyes makes him furious. Furious because how could she look him in the eyes and tell him that what happened during their sparring session could not happen again, because they couldn’t afford to have emotional attachments as demon slayers, yet not two weeks later, she risks her own neck for him again?

Sanemi opens his mouth, ready to rip into her, to curse her for her stupidity and her hypocrisy, because how dare she tell him not to care for her but rush to give her life for his.

Before the words can form, however, Y/N looks up at him, her eyes so soft and yet so full of an emotion he instantly recognizes as self-loathing that the words died on his tongue.

At that moment, Sanemi knows only one thing: there is no insult, no mockery, no barb he can throw at her that she isn’t already screaming at herself.

No point in beating a dead horse, really.

Sanemi doesn’t want to think about why she looks so guilty because to think about the why meant giving himself hope that she was hurting just as much as he was, even though he knows why she rejected him; understands it with every fiber of his being.

So, he says nothing as she stands, makes no sound as she stomps past him and out through the decaying wood doorway, towards a dying tree in the middle of the courtyard. He watches dumbly as she lines her arm up on one side of the dry bark, inhaling once, twice through her nose before she jerks herself with all her might in the opposite direction, a pained shriek tearing from her lips.

Sanemi has spent many years with the Demon Slayer Corp. He has seen countless injuries, far worse than a dislocated shoulder, and heard far worse screams from the dying as they succumbed to demons.

Yet, as he listens to Y/N’s scream of pain, his blood runs cold.

No, Sanemi thinks, he never wants to hear that sound ever again. Thinks it would drive him mad if he were ever forced to.

But he doesn’t tell her this, because she made it abundantly fucking clear that they cannot be more than mere colleagues, so he tucks the knowledge away that his limit is apparently her pain deep into the recesses of his mind.

Sanemi tries not to think about what that means for his heart.

————————-

They arrive at the Wisteria House just after the stars in the sky had winked out, dawn not too far away. The mistress of the house promises that there is a large hot spring just behind the small estate, up a winding path and that they are both welcome to use it. Y/N was so enthralled at the promise of hot water on her aching muscles that she hadn’t thought to ask the Wind Hashira if he too planned to bathe.

Which was how she found herself in her current predicament.

It was stupid.

It was so stupid.

They had seen each other naked for crying out loud, had shared their bodies with each other. But now, here they were, stuck in opposite corners of the hot spring, resolutely turned away from one another as though neither of them had anything to hide from the other at all.

As though he hadn’t spent an entire evening inside of her, making her call out his name until her voice went hoarse.

His first name, at that.

Y/N hopes to conceal her flushed face from the Wind Pillar for as long as possible, so she hugs her good arm across her chest tighter, wincing slightly as her poorly re-set shoulder throbbed. Y/N predicts a visit to the Insect Pillar’s infirmary was in her near future, and the thought of her aching shoulder having to be poked and prodded anymore made her want to vomit.

If Y/N had been alone, she would have groaned, loudly, until she felt the weight slowly crushing her begin to lighten. But she is not alone, because she so stupidly failed to ask Shinazugawa who should bathe first, and now he is here and so is she, and they are both naked.

Still, the Lunar Hashira cannot deny the pang of longing in her heart as she furtively glances over to where the Wind Pillar stands, magnificently muscled back facing her, as he cups water between his hands to bring over his head, dampening it from white to a darker silver color.

His hair is shorter than it had been two weeks ago, she realizes, and she bites down on her lip as she realizes she likes it – a lot. Her eyes then fixate on the silvery jagged lines of the scars which crisscross his back, tracing her gaze down to where the top of his hips disappears into the glowing turquoise of the spring water. He has more scars on his back than he has on his front, she notes, evidence of his years of brutal training.

Evidence of his loss; great, unimaginable loss.

Because even the most skilled soldiers cannot save everyone, a truism she knew tore Sanemi apart. As memories of their past conversations came flooding back to her, memories of Sanemi telling her exactly what had happened to his family, his partner in the Corps, Y/N feels the oily slick of guilt seep into her gut.

It is ironic, that Sanemi Shinazugawa of all people, had felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with her, — both physically and emotionally — but she had run at the first opportunity for her to return that vulnerability.

She, who had prided herself on being someone that others could depend on, could turn to in moments of need.

But she had run.

Because she is a coward.

He is beautiful and good and selfless and she is a damn coward.

Y/N’s shoulder throbs so violently it feels as if it has its own heartbeat, but Y/N doesn’t pay it any mind. She does not sink deeper into the beckoning warmth of the spring water to try and relieve the ache that is so deep it makes tears sting her eyes.

Such comfort is the least she deserves for the pain she has caused him.

——————————

He hadn’t meant to look. He swears he hadn’t.

But Sanemi accidentally turns when he hears her hiss, an instinctive urge to respond to a threat, to protect her forcing his head around, only to see no threat existed at all. Rather, the sound seemed to have been made in response to her shoulder wound.

She is not turned away from him completely — he has a perfect view of her side profile, the side of her injured shoulder facing him directly. Though her body is mostly concealed by the thick curtain of dark hair that spills down to her waist, he can see that Y/N still has her good arm locked snugly around her chest, in some futile attempt to conceal her ample breasts from sight.

Sanemi bites his lip to keep from snorting. Did it seem stupid, considering he had seen her in a far more intimate setting just a couple of weeks prior? Obviously. But Y/N’s discomfort with the situation had been obvious the moment she had stumbled across him in the hot springs, and Sanemi isn’t about to push her any further.

Especially after the stunt she just pulled on their mission.

He means to turn around once he confirmed that she was safe, that there was no threat looming in the woods surrounding the rocky hot spring. But his eyes snag on her face, on the grimace that twists at her mouth and the furrow of her eyebrows as she massages the tender skin around her swollen shoulder joint.

He hates to see her in pain. Hates it so much, it makes him want to rip the world apart with his bare hands.

And maybe it was because it tore at him to see her in such pain that he feels compelled to speak up, even though he knew he was opening himself up for more rejection, even rejection as her friend.

“You need heat,” Sanemi says, turning fully towards her.

Y/N startles slightly at the sound of Sanemi’s voice cleaving through the silent tension that had been steadily building between them. She turns her head slightly to face him, good arm tightening its hold over her chest.

He is standing in the water, body turned fully towards her. The blue-green spring water laps gently at the toned muscles of his lower abdominals, but Y/N can still make out the start of the impressive “v” of his hips. Her cheeks warm at the sight of the small trail of silvery hair that began just beneath his navel winding down and disappearing beneath the surface of the water to the crop of neatly trimmed hair that she knows frames his thick, proud length.

Y/N’s mouth runs dry as the memory of what Sanemi did to her with that length on the training grounds of his estate flashes through her mind.

So lost in thought is she that she almost forgets to respond to what Sanemi has said, flushing a deeper shade of crimson when she realizes that he had been talking about her wound.

“O-oh, I know. It’s just hard to do when I’m — well, you know.” Y/N laughs shakily, wiggling her good shoulder and the position of her arm across her chest.

Sanemi stares at her for a moment, eyebrows raised incredulously, though Y/N drops her gaze from him before she can see the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I can help — if you’re comfortable with it, that is.” Sanemi offers.

Y/N feels her heart lurch at the silver-haired man’s proposition, guilt sliding back into her veins. She does not deserve his kindness, does not deserve his help after how she has treated him, and yet he offered nonetheless.

Y/N cannot deny him again, not when he seems so earnest in wanting to help ease her pain, so she nods. Something like relief flits across Sanemi’s face as he begins to make his way through the water towards her, keeping his eyes fixed behind her out of respect.

When Sanemi is close enough to reach out and touch her, he stops, the water having risen slightly up his waist now that he is in a deeper portion of the spring.

“You can — you can turn away. Put your back to me.” Sanemi says, awkwardly shifting his weight between his legs.

Y/N nods and turns to face away from him. Sanemi’s proximity sends chills across her skin, and Y/N’s belly dips in anticipation as she waits. The thick, damp air of the spring combines with the hot water licking at her upper waist makes her feel dizzy. Wordlessly, Sanemi cups a handful of hot water and brings it up over Y/N’s bruising shoulder, opening his palms to let it pour over her skin.

Though her arm remains firmly placed over her cleavage, for the first time in a long while, the Lunar Pillar feels her body begin to relax under the exquisite heat of the spring water Sanemi delicately pours over her tender shoulder.

So relaxed is she that she does not realize she is drifting backwards, not until her head thuds lightly against something hard and warm. Jolted by the sudden contact, the Lunar Hashira’s silvery eyes fly open and collide with the lilac irises above her, the surprise in his gaze a mirror of her own. 

He is now much closer to her than he had been, and it is with no small amount of embarrassment that the Lunar Pillar realizes that in her haze, she has sunken back against the taut, warm body of Sanemi Shinazugawa.

There is a hint of red that begins to spread across the girl’s cheeks as she looks up at him that makes Sanemi’s ears burn, and he quickly moves his own gaze to somewhere — anywhere — that isn’t the ethereal creature now peering up at him with those haunting eyes.

He wills his other head to not react to the feeling of the girl’s head against his sternum; to not react to the silkiness of her hair or the thick haze of jasmine and honeysuckle soap which now enveloped him.

God, has she always smelt this good?

There is no making sense of what happened next. the Lunar Pillar lifts her head from Sanemi’s chest and turns to face him completely, her left arm still failing to totally obscure the luscious swell of her breasts from view. She peers up at him, as he continues to try and glare at a nearby rock in a futile attempt to not show that he has been watching her every bit as much as she is watching him.

Slowly, the Lunar Hashira lifts her free hand to lightly graze a thick scar that slants Sanemi’s left pectoral. She marvels at how it is both jagged and thick but surprisingly smooth and soft beneath the gentle press of her fingers.

Her touch is feather-light but Sanemi feels the skin beneath her soft caress erupt into flames, his cock beginning to stir at the slight contact.

She begins to trace her fingers to the start of another scar lacing his chest — slightly lower than the first — when Sanemi’s hand snatches up to grab her own, stilling its movements.

“Don’t-“he hisses through clenched teeth, his eyes screwed shut as though in pain. His grip on her is firm, but not harsh. “Don’t touch me like that.”

The Lunar Pillar feels the guilt and shame, hot and relentless, course through her blood. Of course he doesn’t want her to touch him — she rejected him after all. Though she had realized there was no point in trying to run from the blossoming warmth she felt her in her chest every time she looked at the stone-faced Hashira, that did not mean he wanted her, too.

Swallowing the lump that was forming in her throat, she moves to quickly pull her hand away, an apology already falling from her lips at her complete lack of professionalism, at her idiocy—

Sanemi’s grip on her hand tightens before she can remove it, pressing her hand harder against his chest. “Don’t touch me like that,” he repeats, opening his eyes to look down at her startled, red face, “because I won’t-.” He winces, trying but failing to cut himself off before he could make the admission that would surely damn them both.

“Because I won’t be able to stop myself if you do.”

Y/N’s eyes fly up to meet Sanemi’s burning stare, her breath catching in her throat. She curls her fingers against his chest, her arm falling from its position across her breasts so that she is fully exposed to him, and Sanemi thinks his heart might fly out of his chest. She steps closer to him until the soft plush of her chest lays flush against his upper abdomen, the heavenly feeling causing Sanemi’s cock to throb as she leans in close.

Sanemi’s free hand itches to touch her, to rise to rest on the dip of her waist and tug her close, but he holds back, insistent that he gives her an out, a window to walk away if that was what she still wanted.

Instead, Y/N stares up at him through a thick cluster of dark lashes, her gaze setting his skin on fire as she further presses herself against him.

“Then don’t.” She whispers.

Sanemi’s heart skips several beats, and his fingers tentatively rise to brush the skin of her waist, Y/N’s eyes fluttering softly at the contact. He lifts his hand, however, to cup her jaw, forcing her to look back at him, needing to see her eyes to confirm that she truly wanted this — wanted him.

“If we keep going, that’s it. No more running from one another.” He warns, voice hoarse with desire and emotion. “There will be no one else.”

Y/N leans her face into his touch, and Sanemi thinks his knees might buckle right then. “There never was anyone else,” she says earnestly, raising her good arm to parrot the hold he has on her face. “It’s only you, Sanemi. It has only ever been you.”

Whatever resolve Sanemi had kept tethered within himself snaps, as he crashes his mouth down against Y/N’s, her mouth opening easily to allow his tongue entrance. He crushes her face against his, desperate to give everything he has and to take whatever it is she can offer him.

Y/N moans deeply into his mouth, her fingers threading themselves through his damp hair. Sanemi’s kiss is so deep that she feels as though he will consume her whole, but she cannot find it in herself to care because, for him, she would let herself burn.

His lips are still locked on hers as he drops his hands from her face, reaching down to grip under her thighs and lifting her up, Y/N’s legs locking around his waist with ease. Sanemi makes his way towards a small, rocky island that separated the hot spring into two, connected pools, wading seamlessly through the water. 

Y/N breaks from the impassioned kiss with a gasp as the cold, rough edge of the rocky bank scrapes against her back. Sanemi uses the opportunity to readjust his hold on her, lifting her slightly up to press her against the island so that he has better access to her neck and below, though he does not drop the iron grip he holds on her hips.

Sanemi dances his lips down the elegant length of Y/N’s neck, pausing to suck on her sensitive pulse point and eliciting a high, keening moan from her. He moves one hand from its bruising grip from its position on one of her thighs, wrapped tightly around his waist, trailing it teasingly under her to knead the soft flesh of her backside. Y/N moans again, grinding her hips against him, desperate for the tiniest bit of friction against her core which was now aching with her need.

Sanemi growls as Y/N’s core brushes against his throbbing length, his teeth sinking into the juncture between her good shoulder and neck as he nipped her in warning. As much as he wants to bury himself in her intoxicating heat, he will not do so until he knows she is good and ready to receive him.

He pulls away from her neck to look at her, his eyes dark with need and with something deeper, something tender that Y/N won’t name right now, even though she cannot deny that she feels it, too. His cheeks are dusted pink, and his lips are reddened by her kiss. His hair, though still damp, is perfectly tousled from her fingers, and his chest heaves as he tries to control his breathing.

Sanemi is beautiful and Y/N knows in her heart that she is doomed. Doomed because there will never be anything as good as this — as good as him.

He doesn’t hesitate to pounce back on her, hand dragging down the front of her torso to fondle her breast, his lips following down the same path. Before Y/N can draw another breath, her breast is sucked into Sanemi’s deliciously hot mouth just as a rough, callused finger runs over the slit at her core, dipping below slightly to brush against the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. Y/N cries out then, her fingers moving to clutch onto Sanemi’s shoulders, and she finds that it is easy to ignore the throb in her injured shoulder when he is working to relieve the pulsing ache between her legs.

Sanemi begins murmuring against Y/N’s breast as he slides one thick finger into her, causing Y/N’s hands to fly up to grip his hair, pulling harshly at the strands as she is overwhelmed by the sensation. He tells her she is beautiful, how perfect she feels clenching around him, and how he cannot wait to be inside her and make her sing. He slips in another finger, his thumb pressing against her clit as his teeth graze her nipple, and Y/N shatters in his arms.

“Mnnnh, Sanemi,” she pants, thighs tightening around his waist as she grinds herself relentlessly against his hand. “Oh!”

Y/N comes with the prettiest moan Sanemi has ever heard, and it takes everything in him not to follow suit just by the look of blissful pleasure on her face. Sanemi cuts off her cries with another kiss, fingers curling inside her as he brushes against the sensitive spongy patch on her inner wall, causing Y/N to fall apart all over again, a gush of fluid coating his hand for a second before the water washes it away.

Y/N feels delirious from pleasure, but a cold sting rushes through her, cutting through the hazy fog in her mind as Sanemi removes his fingers from her needy core, her walls still clenching in the aftershock of her successive orgasms. The sting does not last, however, as Sanemi readjusts her thighs around his hips, unhooking one of her legs to bring it up to her side against the rock island, bending it at the knee. He hikes her other leg higher up his waist so that her core is now pressed flush against his demanding length, its weight heavy and hot as it rests against her sensitive flesh.

He rubs his cock against her dripping folds, the friction causing Y/N’s head to fall back against the rocky bank with a thud, uncaring as a wanton moan rips from her throat. Sanemi has one hand supporting the leg pinned against the rock at her thigh, and the other grips her waist tightly, using the rest of his body weight to keep her slightly upright and pressed against the stone.

The grip on her waist tightens as he calls her attention back to him. Through half-lidded eyes, she sees him staring intently at her, eyebrows raised in question, and she realizes that he is waiting for her signal.

The thought that he would still wait for her consent, that he is still offering her an out if she wanted it, is enough to make her want to cry. But she can’t stop now, can’t stop ever, because Sanemi makes her blood sing and she is so tired of denying herself the happiness she feels whenever he is near.

“Oh Sanemi, please. Please.” She begs, rolling her hips towards him, desperate for him to claim her all over again, to make her his and his alone.

Sanemi does not waste any more time as he carefully sinks into her, a strangled groan falling from his lips as he no doubt was overly sensitive from having waited so long. Y/N’s head falls back against the stone embankment and she cries out, finally feeling whole as he seats himself fully inside her.

Sanemi does not wait long to start moving and for that, Y/N is grateful. But unlike their first pairing at his estate, Sanemi takes his time, rocking his hips into hers, cock hitting her so deep that she cannot tell where she ends and he begins. Their first time had been the product of repressed sexual tension that had been steadily building between them, hard and fast and needy, but this?

This was different.

This was passion. This was both the end and the beginning, a sacred covenant between them that bound their hearts together, entwined their souls for infinity.

As Sanemi’s hips pick up the pace against her, the water stirring and sloshing and breaking around them with the force of his thrusts, Y/N realizes that until now, she has been on fire.

She had been from the moment their lips had met during training at his estate. She had been engulfed in an inferno that had only grown hotter, had only consumed her more, when she had tried to run, tried to deny the love that had bloomed in her heart well before she had ever offered herself to him for pleasure. For the last two weeks, she has burned and burned because she had known deep in her soul that she loved Sanemi Shinazugawa and had put herself in hell trying to deny it — to deny him.

Yet he had come and saved her, again, had pulled her out of that pit of fire and brimstone and smothered the flames with his tender heart and tender kiss, and now she was no longer burning; she was just warm.

Warm and safe and in love.

“Y/N,” Sanemi rasps, his forehead pressed against hers as his eyes bore into her, his mouth falling open. His hands clutch her tighter against him, the possessive drag of his cock making Y/N see stars as she clings to him, moaning and whimpering as she feels her release building inside her belly.

And though she is unable to stop the words that fall from her lips, she means them with every ounce of her heart.

“I love you,” she whimpers, fingers digging into Sanemi’s back as his hips stutter slightly against her at her words, the movement resulting in a delicious spike of pleasure against her clit. “I love you, Sanemi.”

Sanemi’s forehead pulls away from her own, his eyes wide and so full of hope it breaks her heart. He does not say anything, but the way he then kisses her makes her taste his response.

I love you, too.

Y/N breaks the kiss, her moans growing louder as her end nears, and from the way Sanemi’s movements quicken, becoming slightly uneven, she knows he is near as well. So Y/N presses her hands against the sides of his face, thumb running over the jagged scar cutting across his cheek as she tilts his head up to look at her.

Lavender eyes meet hers and Sanemi tumbles headfirst over the edge.

He comes with a shout, the tendons in his neck straining as his hips press hard against her. Y/N feels the warm rush his seed start to fill her and she follows after him, clenching so hard on his cock that Sanemi moans again, his release prolonged by Y/N’s pulsating walls around him.

They are both finally spent but Sanemi cannot yet bring himself to pull out, instead burying his face in Y/N’s neck as he tries to catch his breath.

“Did you mean it?” He pants against her sweaty skin, his breath causing goosebumps to ripple across her. “Did you mean what you said?”

Y/N moves to cup his face, pulling him away from her neck so he can meet her eyes. Though he is inside her, he blushes as she peers up at him, her expression serious.

“I love you, Sanemi. I have for a while,” She pauses, considering. “Longer than I was willing to admit two weeks ago.”

And her words are so honest, spoken with such conviction, that Sanemi cannot stop the grin that spreads across his face, and Y/N thinks she has never seen a more beautiful sight than a smiling Sanemi Shinazugawa, as he leans to kiss her slowly and languid.

————————

It’s hours later, and the two have not left the hot spring, even though they’ve long stopped feeling the heat of the water.

They had not stopped themselves from having one another again and again. Sanemi had still been buried inside of her when she had felt him harden as she professed her love for him again, and so she had had no choice but to move him under her and ride him until he shouted her name, filling her back up with his essence.

Y/N now rests her head on Sanemi’s chest, fingers tracing the outline of the scars dancing across his pectorals.

God, he was beautiful.

His scars told a story — a story of a warrior who gave every part of himself to the dream they shared of ridding the world of demons.

A story of strength; of survival. A warning that he had won every encounter with every demon who crossed his path.

It was a beautiful story. He was a beautiful story.

“Ugly, aren’t they?”

Sanemi’s derisive tone startles Y/N from where she lay, and she looks up at him in alarm. Though the expression on his face was soft — contented, even — there is an unmistakable hardness in his eyes as he glances down to where her fingers rested.

“What on earth do you mean?” Y/N demands, fanning her hand out protectively across his chest.

Sanemi does not respond, merely choosing to smile ruefully at her.

But Y/N shakes her head. “No. No, they’re not ugly; not in the slightest.” She moves so she’s sitting on his lap and bends over him, brushing her lips along the outline of each scar that crosses his skin.

“You’re beautiful.” Y/N insists between the press of her lips to him.

Sanemi reddens but shakes his head at her.  “They scare kids, ya know. And girls. And most people, for that matter.”

Y/N looks up from the scar she is currently lavishing and sees Sanemi watching her intently. She sits up, reaching a hand to cup under his chin so that he won’t try and hide from her, won’t try to avoid what she is about to say.

“Your beauty has never scared me, Sanemi. Ever.” She swears, voice firm and steady.

Sanemi’s heart feels like it is going to punch through his chest and dance across Y/N’s lap. At that moment, Sanemi realizes that nothing else matters to him, nothing at all, except for the woman with the kindest heart he’s ever known and the moon in her eyes.

So he sits up, and cradles her face while he kisses her softly, breaking away from her only to respond to her earlier declaration.

“I love you, too.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

I hope you all enjoyed it!

Here is the reference for the Lunar Pillar's naginata blade -- fun fact, naginatas were historically used by Japanese noblewomen for protection!

Tag-list:

@stuckinthewrongworld @ladytamayolover @sweetblueworm @kazehayaaa @horror4themasses @catzpawn @lollypoporabullet @fuckimgenderfluid @sobbing-bunny @otaku-reblogs @umekohiganbana @mydreamissleeping @finnydraws

[iwrotetheilliad]

Shut up & Drive

♡ You and Reo try so hard to have moments to yourself, but the paparazzi say otherwise. Eventually, Reo gets sick of it.

Genre: P WITHOUT P ;)

CW: Slight exhibitionistm (you can see the rest of the world but they can’t see you) Y’all get it on in the back of Reo’s limo, fingering, dirty talk, dry humping a little. I’m pretty sure that’s everything, but please be wary cuz this is smut!

Characters: Fiancé! Reo Mikage

A/N: i was in a mood this morning, had THE MOST Reo brainrot one could possibly have and made this! I didn’t proofread so if autocorrect is a bitch and changes this then that’s not my fault :p. Also, tumblr was like “no, you can’t post this,” but imma try again. Bon appétit my loves!

“Keep walking sir,” Reo’s head bodyguard commands as he and his team fend off the mob of people desperate to catch a glimpse of their favorite soccer player.

Reo has his arm slung over your shoulder and his other hand clutching the arm closest to him. Even though you’re not the one the public is after, your fiancé never fails to make you his number one priority. When you two finally make it through the swarm of fans and flashing lights, Reo guides you into the car before him.

Suddenly, he feels someone grab his shoulder. For a brief moment he assumes it’s his body guard, but when the stranger starts pulling, the purple-haired boy’s fight-or-flight instincts kick in. He shoves the hand off of him and turns around, offering a withering glare to whoever was the culprit.

“Fuck off,” he growls before climbing into the car after you.

“Are you ok?” you ask once he slams the door behind him.

He’s silent for a moment, before turning his body towards you. Reo shuffles closer towards you and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. His arms snake around your waist, and pull you closer to him, so that your body is half in his lap.

“I hate them so much,” he groans into your neck. “All I wanted was one moment with you and the world decided to make me its bitch.”

“I know,” you mumble comfortingly, bringing your hand up to stroke his hair.

The car starts moving and the two of you stay in that position. Eventually, Reo knocks on the divider. “Play some music,” he sternly says, and just like that, the speakers come to life. After a few moments, Reo commands again, “Raise the volume.”

“But sir-”

“Do it,” he commands again.

The volume is promptly raised. The two of you continue sitting in silence until you feel Reo’s soft lips pressing against your neck. At first, he just feathers small pecks all over, but soon, he starts to suck gently at the most sensitive part.

“R-r-reo,” you stammer. He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, instead he just sucks harder. Subconsciously, your hips begin grinding against his thigh.

Reo leaves the first mark he made and starts a new one further down your neck. His hands start guiding your hips along his thigh. When he finishes crafting this new mark, he hums as his iron grip stops you ministrations in its tracks. You let out a whine as you crane your neck to get a good look at him.

“Mean,” you mumble as you go in for a kiss.

Reo’s hand leaves your hip to grab a handful of your hair. He yanks your head back after a few seconds of making out, a string of spit lingering between your lips.

“Do you want me?” he asks lowly. You eagerly nod, and he scoffs, “Even though our driver can hear you? Even though I could open these windows and let the world get a view of my pretty little girl?”

“I want you Reo,” you confirm, beginning to roll your hips again.

Reo lets out an animalistic groan as the curve of your ass starts to brush up against his cock. He rests his forehead at the back of your neck while muttering, “You’re such a little whore aren’t you? You get off to the idea of the rest of the world watching us huh? You want the rest of the world to see those pretty little tits as you ride my fingers?”

“Please.”

“Well the rest of the world doesn’t get to see how beautiful you are when you’re completely fucked out, only I do,” he growls protectively. “I’m gonna watch you fall apart over my fingers like the little slut you are.”

With that, Reo’s hands snake down beneath your skirt’s waistband. He doesn’t go beneath your panties though, instead just rubbing your clit through the thing fabric.

“Already so wet,” he coos, “such a good girl, ready to take my dick whenever and wherever.”

You nod eagerly, and stop getting off on your lover’s thigh. Instead, you hungrily grind into Reo’s hands, letting your panties get even more wet. You pull your shirt over your head, and lean forward a little to undo your bra clip. Finally, you relax back into your fiancé’s body, snaking an arm up around his neck.

Reo murmurs praises into your ear, before finally, he can’t take just feeling you through the fabric. When he breaches the band of your underwear and finally puts his fingers in you, you moan. It’s so loud and shameless, but you don’t care. Reo is pushing his fingers in you, and it’s all so, good! Your hands move to your chest.

“Reo!” you cry when he curls his fingers in just the right way. “Oh my god, please don’t stop, please- yea right there- ahh, ahh, ah!”

Your fluids spill all over his fingers as Reo soothes you. “That’s it my love, that’s it,” he whispers into your ear as you squirm in his lap. You feel your body physically relax, a result of the sudden pleasure leaving your system.

You take time to relax, and smooth out your breathing, as Reo uses his free hand to grab your discarded shirt. Reo adjusts you so that now, your legs are shut and both are hooked over his thighs. You lean against him after pulling your shirt over yourself. The music is still blaring, but Reo pulls out his headphone and hands you one while putting the other in his own ear. For the rest of the ride, you fall asleep curled into your soon-to-be-husband.

Hopefully this works now!

[hallospaceboyy]

Easy Living

Carol Aird x Femme Reader

Content warning: Smut

Carol rises gracefully from the carpeted floor, hips swaying as she approaches the gramophone. The dulcet sound of Billie Holiday's ‘Easy Living’ caressing your ears as her slender fingers place the needle delicately onto the record. While you imagine caressing Carol.

You know it’s wrong, know that it could cost Carol everything, but you can’t seem to stay away from her – and her you. As far as Harge knew, you’d gone your separate ways months ago, when Carol assured him so; and the joint custody of Rindy had remained steadfast. You’d never expected Harge to be a man of his word.

Carol turns and smirks at you, her neat curls bouncing.

“Do you remember the first time we danced to this?” Her voice is sonorous, teasing, as her hands clasp your waist and pulls your body flush against hers. You feel your cheeks warm as you feel every soft curve, every angle of her.

“How could I forget?” Your voice comes out a whisper as her hands travel lower, as she begins to sway you in time to the music.

She kisses you then, lips velvety soft and full against yours, and your head spins, fogs with only thoughts of Carol – how she tastes, how she feels, her warmth, her scent, sweet and spicy all at once. Carol has that effect – complete euphoria, invading all of your senses in the best ways possible. She consumes you, burns you up, until it feels like only the two of you are left on the entire planet, until you forget the existence of everyone else.

Carol’s kisses become more desperate, her teeth nipping at your lip, her chest heaving with want as her hands paw at your ass, red nails digging into soft flesh – kneading there as you deepen the kiss, tongue meeting tongue.

All of a sudden, Carol pulls away, and her blue eyes are hardly blue at all – pupils dilated, dark with lust and longing. She bites her lip and nimbly kneels before you. Her hands glide up your thighs, squeezing firmly and she pushes you gently to lean against the wingback chair, conveniently behind you.

“Y/N...” Your name leaves her lips as a breathy sigh, and you shiver, brushing her hair from her forehead as she begins bunching up your figure-hugging dress you’d deliberately worn around your hips.

“Yes, Carol?” You part your legs.

“I want to taste you. Now.” The blonde nips at your inner thigh and you gasp, letting out a breathy laugh. She grins up at you as you snap the waistband of your lace underwear against your hip, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Then what are you waiting for? Bon appetit.”

Carol chuckles as she tugs the garment down your legs, flinging them to one side. You feel her warm breath between your legs as her eyes gaze upward to meet your own.

“Don’t make me regret taking you to Paris. Cheeky.”

Then her tongue flicks out over your clit, quickly at first, followed by a long, firm stroke. Your breath catches in your throat, head falling back as you fist a hand in her blonde curls. She laughs deeply against you, relishes watching you come apart so easily for her.

“My good girl.” She murmurs against you, then resumes the rapid movements of her tongue. You can feel the warmth flood between your thighs, and just as you tense, sparks dancing behind your eyelids, she slows, reverting to long, teasing strokes with the very tip of her tongue.

You whine in frustration, one hand clutching her hair, the other clawing at the chair behind you as your legs shake.

“Carol, please,” You breathe, voice tremoring in your throat.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” Her voice is soft, yet commanding, and you roll your head forwards on your shoulders to gaze down at her with clouded eyes – taking in the haze of her own, her mussed hair, her always perfectly red stained lips smudged. She smirks and winks at you. “Now keep looking. For as long as you can.”

You nod meekly, unable to think of anything but how desperately you need her to carry on, to grant you release – and so she does. Peering up at you, she resumes her ministrations ravenously, her lips closing around your clit and sucking, then flicking again, hard and fast, right on the sweet spot that makes you feel like your legs are going to collapse beneath you.

Your climax crashes through you like a tidal wave, bursts of pleasure jolting through you like lightning, and you moan and whimper loudly, hips bucking against Carol’s eager mouth. You maintain eye contact, and she hums, gripping your hips and anchoring you to the armchair as your legs threaten to give way at the vibrations.

As you come down, you let your eyes drift shut and she smirks up at you, pressing a single kiss to your still sensitive nub before licking her lips and rising to stand on her knees. Carol presses the side of her face to your stomach, and you cradle her head with trembling arms, fingers raking through her blonde tresses.

“I love you,” She murmurs, arms snaking around your waist.

You smile, taking her arms and tugging gently, gesturing for her to stand. She does, coming face to face with your hooded eyes; and as you gaze at her, taking in the soft crows feet at the corners of her eyes, the smile lines alongside her mouth, the pinkness of her cheeks, the sky blue of her eyes, she looks almost unsure – pale blue searching your face, but her smile never wavers.

“I love you too, Carol. And I have for a long time.”

Her whole face softens as you cup her cheek, and she kisses you, with no urgency this time. Soft and slow, with the faint hiss of the finished record still spinning in the background, Carol knows you have all the time in the world.

[melodrangea]

MORE KILIK HCS PLEASEE😭!! I am in NEED.

when one does not want to write, one does it anyways and picks a favorite character!!

i'm not sure if you meant as a person or as a significant other so the voices are telling me both!!

(and again I'm a faker that hasn't read the manga so if I contradict something I apologize)

----------------------------------------------------

Kilik Rung Headcannons

As a person

-southern boy!!! nobody can convince me that Kilik isn't from Tennessee or Louisiana

-probably has a lot of fighting experience, always throwing himself into martial arts, jujitsu and even boxing!

-he has a commanding yet calming presence, making him impossible to ignore and a shoe in for being a meister

-if he wasn't a meister he would most likely be a police officer

-odd one but I feel like he doesn't like fruit, don't know why but do not go near this man with a fruit

-i love him and I'm sure he eats his veggies but with all the candy he consumes natural sugar just doesn't taste as good

-is the total opposite of only child syndrome! he definitely has older siblings

-also is a total family man, loves his mom, loves his grandmom, is always home for sunday dinners etc...

-doesn't have a favorite music genre, listens to a little bit of everything but prefers music with a more upbeat vibe. will go from Bon Jovi to Sia to the my little pony theme song, he does not care

-early riser!! sorry to night people but Kilik is up with the sun and in bed before 10 pm

-will not admit it to anyone but Kilik is the biggest pokemon fan you will ever meet. knows all of the different shows, regions, regional variants, gym leaders etc...

-ironically can't stand pokemon go since he let the twins play once and they almost walked into the middle of the street for a shiny lotad...

-speaking of twins i also believe that he legally adopted them when he turned 18 since they don't have parents ( i think lol )

-you best believe the first time they made him fathers day cards he cried

-will obvs let the twins decide if they want to keep being weapons or not. like if one day thunder says she wants to quit Kilik would be totally fine with it

-he is unfortunately a gym rat, you want to find this guy just look for the barbells, he doesn't work out for looks, more that he wants to better himself and become stronger

-is a canonic tired parent cause I said so

-listen he loves fire and thunder like his own children but mans is TIRED

(went on a lil rant there so onto romantic headcannons)

As a significant other

-bro is seriously SLEPT ON

-honestly one of the best partners for people of all different personalities

-if you're more shy and introverted he is very encouraging and ngl appreciates the peace and quiet

-if you're loud and rowdy so is he!

-if you wanna be a bit of both even better for the guy!

-also does not have much of a preference appearance wise

-if you want to date Kilik Rung you do have to prepare to be around the twins a lot

-he will never ask or try to shove you into a parenting role with them but the twins are just always around unless Kim and Jackie or Harvard are watching them (Ox cannot be trusted to nurture children...)

-he can cook a little bit, its nothing like mama's sunday dinner but he can get by

-he is very reliable, you need help with homework? he'll try his best or find someone else to help you. you need help picking out an outfit? not quite his thing but will give you an honest opinion (with lots an lots of compliments)

-it's hard to have a bad day with Kilik around, he's just so calming and uplifting that it's hard to feel bad for yourself around him! but on the offchance of a rough day he will do whatever you need to make you feel better. he can go on for hours about how he finds you absolutely perfect or he could sit and listen to you rant with a hot beverage

-cuddlebug!!!! you can't escape him! he has a spidey sense for you being in a 200 foot radius! you're always either holding hands or he has his arm on you somehow

-will also not let you carry anything! he knows you can carry your bag but why should you when he's right there??

-you and Kilik would be one of those couples that genuinely seems to always just coexist in perfect harmony

-you're not apart that often because he doesn't do much that would make you want to be apart anyways

-one of Kilik's flaws is unfortunately his adherence to logic, to him there is nothing that can't be solved, there isn't any emotion or insecurity that doesn't have a reason

-so he might accidently mansplain your feelings to you a bit (he's too used to gentle parenting I'm afraid)

-would so be a sucker for matching anything (though i think he'd prefer rings or earrings)

-most dates would either be things like hiking or study dates! with the occasional spontaneous dance class ;)

---------------------------------------------------

and that's all folks!

god i love Kilik sm

[armagnac-army]

I DEMAND YOU CREATE ANOTHER POLL !! And do not call it a “pity poll” unless you want your house flooded with my vikings

-Bernadotte

MARSHALATE PITY BALLOT

VOTE FOR ONE OF THE LESS POPULAR LES GRANDE CHAPEAUX!!! SOMEHOW BERTHIER THE NERD WON THE FIRST POLLE WITH ME IN SECOND PLACE SO LETS DO THIS SHIT AGAIN

IN CASE YOU DONT KNOW WHO WE ARE WE HAVE A "OUIKIPEDIA PAGE" ALL ABOUT US AND OUR BIG HATS BUT LONG STORY SHORT WERE NAPOLEONS TOP COMMANDERS WHO FUCK SHIT UP FOR HIM

SO ONCE AGAIN VOTE FOR WHOEEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT WHETHER THATS THE BEST OR THE SEXIEST OR THE MOST PATHETIC

YOU CAN EVEN STUFF THE BALLOTS IF YOU WANT THE EMPEROR DID IT SO WHY NOT YOU

This is a public service announcement. Do not engage in vote manipulation. -Maréchal Soult

IVE DEFINITELY NOT FORGOTTEN ANYONE THIS TIME AND THERES NOBODY SNEAKING ONTO THE BALLOT!!!!

FEEL FREE TO POST PROPAGANDA OR ANTI PROPAGANDA WE WILL SHARE IT IF ITS FUNNY

ALSO DO SHARE THIS SO THAT WE CAN SEE WHO WINS THE PITY VOTE AND MAYBE PIT THEM AGAINST BERTHIER IN A CAGE FIGHT

WHERES GROUCHY

[desertfangs]

“ why are you talking like we’ll never see each other again? ” + lestat! thank you 🥰

I don't know why I seem to be stuck on the Prince Lestat era lately, but he's some post-PLROA Lestat/Armand arguing. About 1200 words.

Lestat stands in the doorway of Armand’s bedroom, watching as he carefully folds clothes and puts them into his suitcase. He tries to tamp down the rising panic that climbs up his throat and wonders if this is how Armand felt back in the late 80s, when they all started to pack up and leave The Night Island. 

“So it’s true? You’re taking your fledgling and absconding back to your stronghold in New York?” 

Armand glances over at him, expression unreadable. “That’s not what ‘absconding’ means.” 

Lestat waves a dismissive hand. He certainly has no desire to argue semantics. “I thought you supported this Court.” 

Armand smooths out a shirt on the top of his suitcase. “I’ve been here, haven’t I? Though my contributions are pushed aside, I endure it, because of my support for you.” 

“And yet now you’re retreating at the first opportunity!” Lestat argues. “I should forbid it!”

Armand rounds on him, eyes bright and full of fury. “Oh, do try and decree my required presence at your castle. I look forward to shattering your illusions.” 

Lestat huffs. He knows, of course, that if he and Marius begged and pleaded, Armand might stay. And Daniel will do what his maker does right now. The two are enamored with one another again. But Marius refuses to plead or apologize for the fight they’d had over the Replimoids. And Lestat will not beg. 

Armand goes to his closet and pulls down several suits. Then he retrieves a garment bag and starts the process of zipping the suits into it. 

“How long will you be gone?” Lestat asks.

Armand shrugs. “As long as Daniel and I desire.” 

“And what if you’re needed?” Armand doesn’t respond so he adds, “You’re an invaluable part of this Coven.” 

Armand gives him a hard look and lays the garment bag flat on the bed. “Why are you talking like we’ll never see each other again? You can traverse the ocean in hours and I have an army of planes. If I’m needed, I’ll come.” He turns back to study his luggage and adds, so quietly it’s nearly inaudible, “But you already know that.” 

Lestat sighs. If Armand leaves for a bit, taking young Daniel with him, so what? It’s just two of them. But the problem is that it’s like a party. Once one couple heads out, the others might start looking around and consider doing the same. And before long, he’ll be rattling around an empty castle, a Prince to everyone and no one. Alone. 

“I’ll command Marius to apologize,” he offers. 

Now Armand looks furious, his russet hair a fiery mane around his pale face as his amber eyes burn into Lestat. “You will mind your own business.” He hisses the words, his tone caustic. 

Lestat remains still, as if afraid he might provoke him further. The truth is, anger is radiant on him and only makes Lestat want to reach out and touch him, even if the result is getting bitten. After a long moment, he asks, “How can I convince you to stay?” 

Armand’s glare softens and his forehead crinkles the tiniest bit, such subtle change that a mortal might not even notice it. He opens his mouth to speak but then Daniel appears in the doorway, holding his own suitcase, a garment bag slung over his shoulder. He looks from Armand to Lestat and then, sensing he’s interrupting something, asks, “What’s going on?” 

“Lestat is wishing us bon voyage,” Armand says tersely, and he glares at Lestat, daring him to argue. 

Damn his timing! Lestat is sure he was chipping away at Armand’s resolve but one look at fledgling packed and ready to go, and all that progress is lost. Not that Lestat can blame him, not really. Daniel is a pretty thing, and he has such an easy air about him. No wonder the little imp wants to secret him away for some private time. 

Lestat starts to protest, but then Daniel smiles at him, and it’s disarming. “Thanks, man. You know, if you can get away, you should come visit. Everyone needs a break.” 

He’s so genuine and there’s a bounce in his step, a lightness in the way he lays his garment bag on top of Armand’s and then sits on the bed. He looks thrilled to be getting away with his maker. They haven’t had much time alone, that is true, and perhaps they deserve it. 

But Lestat needs Armand here, at his side. It’s where he belongs.

Besides, if he heads back to New York, what will stop Louis from deciding to join him? God knows he still calls the damnable townhouse home! And Sybelle and Benji and then Marius… It’s a house of cards and once Armand is removed, it all collapses. 

“Actually, I just suggesting that you two remain here,” Lestat says.

Daniel frowns slightly and looks at Armand, who’s too busy staring daggers at Lestat to look at him. “Do you want to stay?” he asks his maker. 

“No,” Armand says immediately. He closes his suitcase and pulls it to the floor, handing the handle to Daniel. “Will you take our luggage to the car? The plane will be ready in an hour and I’d like to leave shortly.” 

Again, Daniel looks from Lestat to Armand, uncertain, but then he does as he’s told, gathering up their luggage and obeying his maker. “See you later, man,” Daniel says to Lestat, and then he’s gone. 

“Must you be so selfish!” Armand hisses. “ I’ve given you everything: Louis, my house to call a Coven House, my counsel, which is repeatedly brushed aside.” 

Lestat opens his mouth and Armand steps closer, the one motion so imposing that Lestat immediately closes it again.

“And now I’m taking Daniel home. You can reach me if and when you desire, but you will not stand in my way.” 

Armand storms passed him out of the bedroom and into the rest of the apartment. He stops at the door to pull on a coat.

“What if they all leave?” Lestat blurts, unable to keep the nagging fear inside a moment longer.

Armand stops, mid-button, and looks at him. This time his expression is softer, more angelic. He sighs. “You cannot hold Court together by sheer force of will. You must build a Court that will endure no matter who comes or goes.” 

Lestat frowns. He doesn’t want to hear that. He wants reassurance. He wants Armand to stay. But Armand stubbornly finishes buttoning up his coat and lifts his auburn hair so it’s not caught in the collar. 

Then he turns and stares at Lestat for a long time. “Take advantage of the time it affords you with Louis,” Armand says. “And Daniel is right: you’re welcome to visit if the inclination strikes.” 

“Ah yes, so I can bring Louis and he can find some excuse to stay behind!” Lestat shouts.

Armand does not quite roll his eyes but he comes close. “Louis is perfectly capable of making his own decisions about where he wishes to reside. If you cannot keep him…”

Lestat hisses, the sound coming out of him unbidden, the frustration untenable. “You insufferable little imp!” 

“And that is why I’m taking my leave,” Armand says sharply. He turns and goes, closing the door behind him, leaving Lestat alone in his chambers. 

“You’ll be back!” he yells through the door, knowing that Armand will hear it. But the damned little cherub  doesn’t respond or return to argue the point.

So Lestat stands there trying to ignore the chasm in his chest that expands as he listens to his footsteps retreating down the hall. 

[pippin-pippout]

Thoughts on the side stories with the other characters:

I can't believe it was such an ordeal to get to sky island and get off sky island and this weather man that Nami's with just fucking took an elevator and a boat down and up.

I also can't believe the posh-ified Franky. He has tea in his system instead of coca cola. This isn't right. Also apparently tea = pacifist and coke = hentai??? WHAT? And this is where we first meet Vegapunk? Or maybe it's just his lab.

OH THIS IS WHERE THE SANJI IS TRANS HCs COME FROM. Also watching the second episode of Sanji's side story makes more sense after watching impel down and meeting Ivankov. Can't believe Sanji is so overconfident about this fight when he doesn't even know Okama kenpo... I mean he barely beat bon clay.

OF COURSE Chopper who ends up in like subjectively the worst circumstances stranded on an island with giant birds and humans that want to eat him, and winds up helping a baby bird out of the goodness of his little Chopper heart.

I just want Robin to kill these people so hard. She turned herself in to protect these people. Now the revolutionaries are coming and this little girl just wants to give her chocolate even at the cost of her life. And this old man who DOES NOT know that Robin is the nakama/crewmate of his commander's son is like 'yeah we're gonna free her. And then, as they are preparing for an arsenal of assholes firing at them, Robin just breaks all the bad guys' necks. I have further thoughts about how the narrative continues to place Robin with young girls (even tho one at least was anime-only) but I like it. I HOPE ROBIN MEETS SABO. I HOPE I MEET SABO. IT'LL BE SO GREAT WHEN ACE SABO AND LUFFY ALL MEET AGAIN.

Oh wait sorry Chopper maybe Usopp has subjectively the worst he's being eaten by a sunflower as nightmares go that's not great.

Although Zoro has to deal with Perona...

Hmm. Nvm. Perona has to deal with Zoro. She told him where his sword was and has given him a bunch of hints and baby boy still can't find it. Girls just wanna have fun I can't fault that and my love of my life is simply too directionally incompetent. "UP THE STAIRS AND ALL HALLS LEAD TO THE SAME PLACE" and he just doesn't understanddddd. Peak sibling behavior from these two. "Just follow me" *continues in straight line*. Zoro *starts walking diagonally for no reason.*

If Brook were less of a pervert this wouldn't be happening to him...

[ovwechoes]

DPS Girls & Concert Headcanons!

It's finally arrived; each of the OVW DPS girls have plans to attend a concert, but who would they each go see? These are my personal headcanons (SFW)!

It's somewhat long so it's under the cut - enjoy and let me know any thoughts you have c:

Elizabeth Caledonia "Calamity" / Ashe: Ashe is the type of girl who would do anything and drop however much she could to see Ella Langley, Riley Green, and Johnny Cash tribute acts. She loves the idea of cowboys and the wild west, and loves country music alongside it. Neil Young is another she appreciates and would do anything to see as well, for the nostalgia of course.

Echo: Echo's not the type to fixate on music, and enjoys vicariously through concert videos online. However, if she was to go see someone, it would be an artist who she knows the people she's going with enjoy as well. She values the importance of music, but there isn't a specific artist I can imagine her being into enough to go see them live.

Mei-Ling Zhou / Mei: Mei's mostly interested in classical music; it helps her to focus as background noise or relax when she's had a stressful week. I can imagine she'd go to concerts in opera halls for classical music iterations and sit there, silently enjoying herself. However, I think she'd pay to see artists such as Iron & Wine, Bon Iver, and other indie folk musicians. Indie folk is one of those guilty pleasures that helps her focus in the same ways as classical but has substance beyond instruments. She values it and would enjoy herself (as long as she had someone to come with her ofc).

Fareeha Amari / Pharah: She'll tell you if the conversation ever came up that she would pay anything to go back in time and see Queen live. She absolutely adores them, but tribute acts to her never do them justice. That's who I think Pharah would go to see if she could live. However, Fareeha also loves classic rock as a genre and would do anything to see AC/DC, Guns N' Roses, etc. She would go solo or with other people, she's not too bothered and she knows how to protect herself if anything happened. All she's interested in is hearing the music through her feet and enjoying it live, seeing everyone around her and embracing the rock culture.

Vivian Chase / Sojourn: Sojourn's a fan of classical jazz; she loves to sit with a whiskey on the rocks, in a dingy bar and enjoy the music so she doesn't tend to go to concerts as much as she used to. However, when she was younger and in Overwatch as it's lead commander, she used to always make an effort to try and see alternative rock artists like Imagine Dragons, Arctic Monkeys, and The Strokes. Whenever she listens to them now, she gets thrown into the past and wouldn't refuse a ticket to see them for old time's sake.

Olivia Colomar / Sombra: She definitely enjoys EDM and goes to raves moreso than concerts; she enjoys club culture and has been known to indulge in everything about them. She was first exposed to The Prodigy, and her love for EDM kept growing from there. The Prodigy, Deadmau5 and Skrillex would be the ones I could see her wanting to see the most live at a rave.

Satya Vaswani / Symmetra: We know that Symmetra has a more eclectic side with her sashay emote, so one of the most obvious things I could think of her enjoying would be drag brunches moreso than a concert. She would love the feeling of the music through your body, the dancing, the interactions happening in front of her. I think she'd enjoy night performances in concert halls as well, especially with strobe lights and voguing; it would be autism heaven for her. However, I think she appreciates modern classical music that helps her unwind and relax, especially if she's overwhelmed or overstimulated with the work that she's trying to complete at tht moment. Artists such as RuPaul, Philip Glass, and Tycho would definitely be on her radar though (if she decided to go to a concert).

Lena Oxton / Tracer: Tracer's got a very upbeat attitude, and it seems very likely she would enjoy pop artists, especially if she's struggling with things mentally or with guilt. It helps distract her, so she would definitely agree to see artists such as Chappel Roan, Lady Gaga, and Charli XCX. She enjoys being able to dance in the crowd to their music, screaming her heart out with whoever she's with or with total strangers. Alternatively, she used to heavily enjoy pop-rock artists such as Paramore, and would make an effort to see them when she could. It's still close to her heart, so I don't think she'd decline seeing them live still.

Amelie Lacroix / Widowmaker: Widow's a fan of classical ballet music; it reminds her of a time she was herself, and it brings back the emotions she once felt to some degree. She would pay anything to see them performed live by an orchestra, or even during a ballet, just to be able to feel like a normal woman again. Widow would never decline to a concert that features music from the artists such as Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky and Felix Mendelssohn.

I'll be making a version with the overwatch DPS males next! Any thoughts or opinions about these are always accepted, and my asks are open to any and all requests <3

[cursedalthoughts]

SHIPGIRL APPRECIATION DAY - Kearsarge

USS Kearsarge. Let's start this post strong: Kearsarge is single-handedly the most unique character in the game (for legal reasons, in my opinion). Her design should already let you know why, but if you aren't seeing why, I will explain.

This post will divert a little bit from the formula I established post-DoY post (the first I did). It will include very, very heavy use of headcanons that are in no way supported by the lore, but I think are neat.

Personality-wise, Kearsarge knows she is superior. She is better than those other shipgirls that have decades of experience. That's simply a fact to her, and since it's a fact; all her actions do not come as arrogant. She just does things - she disregards your orders if she thinks they're not very efficient, she organizes your documents in a way she finds to be perfect regardless of what you prefer, she charges by herself or stays behind depending on the situation.

On occasion, I neglect your will and prioritize the here and now on the battlefield. While you are the Commander, sometimes you have to let your soldiers handle things – the sooner you accept this, the better.

Her approach isn't necessarily wrong, either. Despite this, Kearsarge is a very reliable shipgirl. She is, indeed, strong - her twelve 406mm main guns are accurate and devastating by themselves, but she also has access to a squadron of five F8F Bearcat attack aircraft. Her firepower is incomparable among Eagle Union backliners.

However, her personality doesn't stay like this forever. When you as the player character get closer to her, you discover she's just autistic. She deeply cares about you, but is so expressive about her emotions and trains of thoughts, it's easy to think she's just a self-centered arrogant woman who speaks with a detached tone. She will not outright tell you she's in love with you, but she will make you some borscht! (I should point out Kearsarge is, originally, a ship commissioned by the Soviet Union, hence her Russian influence). That's her love language.

USS Kearsarge, steel version.

Design-wise, I adore how the artist YD managed to take one of the ugliest ships in World of Warships and turn her into such a beautiful, unique, one-of-a-kind shipgirls. An angel descending from the machine, a seraphim clad in steel and powered by steam. A herald from another timeline, where the Eagle Union necessitated the construction of Kearsarge. Her rigging divided symmetrically in half, her turrets and their support structure taking the shape of 4 wings of white metal, the faux wings and herself connected to a floating halo device to act as a mediator between the flesh and the steel. Her planes up in the air, a ghostly echo. Her arms stretched outwards, "fear not".

In the event Parallel Superimposition the commander visits a simulation based on the anomalous data from the hull of Anchorage. We learnt a lot about Anchorage, Dr. Aoste, Dr. Anzeel, and the Type-II hulls. We also learnt Bon Homme Richard exists in this simulation. Now, I believe this realm to be strictly speaking a simulation - not a real universe. However, when the event ended; TB had managed to gather enough information on Yorktown II, Northampton II, Hornet II, Hammann II and Langley II. Laffey II, as much as she made an appearance, couldn't be studied. I am guessing the same goes for Bon Homme. Who is to say Kearsarge doesn't come from this simulation? Or that she comes from a universe that parallels this simulation?

Hopefully I shouldn't have to point the obvious similarities between Anchorage's rigging and Kearsarge's rigging. Anchorage is like a cherub accompanying the cyber-divine orchestra of Kearsarge's guns and planes.

-------

THIS WOMAN WILL NOT LEAVE MY MIND I HAVE SO MUCH BRAINROT FOR KEARSARGE

hopefully it's entertaining to read and y'all can see why i like her.

[wrestlezaynia]

Hair Pulling.

A/N: This is my first attempt at a hair pulling smut fic, so please be kind. Warning: Must be 18+ to read under cut. Thank you for reading!

Kevin always teases Sami about his hair, when in reality, he secretly loves it. He loves combing his fingers through it, among other things.

It's Kevin's Birthday and despite he and Sami making plans for later that evening, he simply couldn't wait that long. He needed to see him.

Sami's match is next on the card, but there's an intermission. He waits for Sami to round the corner and pulls him into the dimly lit hallway. "Where do you think you're going?" His breath hot against his ear.

Sami's startled at first, but eventually relaxes in Kevin's arms. "Kev, my match is up next." He warns, glancing back at him over his shoulder. "You couldn't wait five minutes?" He asks with an amused grin.

Kevin smirks as he brushes his crimson locks aside to kiss the nape of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent. "Five minutes feels like an eternity." He replies, slipping his hands beneath Sami's shirt to caress his muscular chest. "I decided I'm going to open my present early."

A shiver runs up Sami's spine at the contact, Kevin's holding him so tightly he can feel his erection poking his backside. Knowing better than to reject Kevin's advances, Sami nods, albeit begrudgingly. They weren't exactly concealed, anyone could walk by and catch them in a compromising position. But, then again, that's what made it so intense. The adrenaline coursing through Sami's veins as he pulls down his pants, presenting himself to Kevin. "Okay, but make it fast."

Kevin inhales sharply, he wasn't expecting Sami to be so cooperative. "Damn, baby." He breathes, peeling off his Basketball shorts and letting them pool around his ankles. "Bend over so I can see that pretty little ass of yours." He commands in a low, raspy voice.

Sami obeys, bending over a nearby equipment trunk.

"Bon garçon." Kevin praises Sami, spitting in his hand as a source of lubrication before slathering his cock and entering Sami from behind. Gripping Sami's hips firmly as he starts to move in a steady pace.

"Kev." A soft gasp spills from Sami's lips as Kevin slides his penis deep inside him, arching his back in response. "Feels so good, mon amour."

A smug smirk plays on Kevin's lips, loving the heavenly sounds he's causing his partner to produce as he tangles his fingers in Sami's ginger curls, tugging roughly. "You're so sexy, Sami." He breathes.

A guttural moan erupts from Sami's throat as Kevin pulls on his long tresses, his cries of pleasure echoing down the hall. "Kev, I'm close." He murmurs breathlessly, clinging to the trunk for support.

Kevin releases his grip on Sami's crimson locks and wraps his arms around his slender waist, wanting to hold Sami and feel the warmth of his body as he finds his release. "Cum for me, Sami." He coaxes softly, sliding his free hand down Sami's chiseled abs to grip his cock, stroking his shaft gently but firmly as he feels it twitch in his palm.

"Kev." Sami whimpers in desperation, bucking his hips as Kevin pumps his cock vigorously, his seed spilling onto Kevin's palm and wrist as he slumps over the trunk out of sheer exhaustion.

Now that Sami is satisfied (he always makes sure Sami cums first), it's Kevin's turn and it doesn't take long after hearing Sami whimper his name. He holds Sami close, so close it's as if they're sharing the same body. Kevin thrusts hard and fast, eyes fluttering shut as he fills Sami with his seed. He buries his face in Sami's damp disheveled hair, breathing him in deep as both men fight to catch their breath.

Typically Kevin would cuddle with Sami after making love, listening contently to his heartbeat as he drifts off to sleep but they weren't at home or a hotel. Not only that, but Sami has a match to prepare for!

Once the pair clean themselves off and get dressed, Kevin turns to look at Sami. His flushed face the same shade as his hair, which is tousled and unkempt. An amused grin tugs at Kevin's lips as he proceeds to brush Sami's soft curls. "Are you okay?" He asks softly.

Sami nods, flashing Kevin a weary smile. "Yeah, just a little tired." He admits, a gleam emerging in his honey eyes. "You wore me out, Kev." He adds with a chuckle, standing to his feet to pull Kevin into a tender kiss just as his theme echoes throughout the arena. "It's showtime!"

"Go get 'em, tiger!" Kevin exclaims proudly, giving a playful tap to Sami's backside, watching him enter through the curtain with a spring in his step, knowing he's the one who put it there.

Tagging: @loki69zowens, @wrestlingdespairings, @domripley, @cawcawmotherfker, @thewanderer-000. The stupid tags aren't working again, my apologies to those of you who wanted to be tagged!

[kazoosandfannypacks]

chapter summary: sabine, ezra, chopper, jacen, and hera head to lothal for a celebration in ezra's honor chapter word count: 2K a/n: not the best chapter. later than normal. no beta. i'm starting to understand why i usually write the entire fic before i post chapters. bon apetite. taglist:@laughingphoenixleader@accidental-spice@kanerallels@piraterefrigerator@jedi-nurse@dootchster@lucasbridger@redroverrider@light-umbra@commander-tech {if you’d like to be added to or removed from my Sabezra taglist, let me know!}

also on ao3!

Chapter 4: Dar'tome

 Despite how restlessly she'd slept that night, she still found waking up in the morning to be a miserable and tiresome thing.

 She ought to be used to this by now. How many night's sleep had Sabine already lost because of Ezra, keeping herself up with the thoughts of "where is he now?" and "I could've stopped him?" and "why did he have to do something so kriffing stupid in the first place?" Losing sleep over him was nothing new— but like this?

 Sabine shivered and curled back under her blanket, trying not to remember her warm wakeups from the past few days, or the joy she'd felt in her dreams last night, or the conversation from last night that had her in such a stupid funk.

 Ezra had started talking about his feelings.

 And she had walked out on him.

 Given her experience with people, she knew what would happen next. Once she'd somehow convinced herself to get out of bed, she'd run into Ezra. If she was lucky, they'd awkwardly avoid each other all day. If she was unlucky, there'd be angry glares and a few heated words— and if she was really unlucky, there'd be a conversation about feelings, and if there was one thing she didn't want to talk about right now, it was that.

 So she was surprised when, upon entering the galley and finding Ezra and Jacen laughing over their plates of space waffles, instead of ignoring or snarking at her, Ezra greeted her with a smile, and a "good morning, 'Bine."

 "Morning, Ezra," Sabine said, waiting for it to register in Ezra's mind that he was supposed to be annoyed with her this morning, "morning, Jacen."

 "Morning, aunt 'Bine," Jacen said, "mama left your breakfast on the counter." 

 Sabine rolled her eyes at the dish of space waffles next to the nanowave, wondering when Hera would remember she was old enough to make her own breakfast.

"Did you sleep okay?" Ezra asked, without a touch of irony or insincerity.

 "Yeah," Sabine shrugged, as she poured herself a lukewarm cup of caf, "once I finally got to sleep."

 "Good," Ezra smiled.

 Ezra hadn't said anything rude to her yet, so she figured he wouldn't freak out if she sat next to him, like she had last night.

 "Aunt Sabine," Jacen said, "are you coming to Lothal with us? Mama said there's gonna be a celebration." "Hera said that as soon as Governor Azadi heard I was back in the galaxy, he declared today some kind of planetary holiday," Ezra explained, "something about me being a hero and all that stuff. There's gonna be a parade, and a feast, and a bunch of speeches or something."

 "Can't wait," Sabine rolled her eyes, then smiled at the boys, "I'll be there."

 "Yay!" Jacen pumped his fists in the air "mama said all of Uncle Ezra's old friends are gonna be there!"

 "Then who would I be to miss it?" Sabine smiled.

 "I'm gonna go tell Mama you'll be there," Jacen said. He left his mostly-eaten breakfast on the table and raced off to the cockpit, leaving Ezra and Sabine alone together again.

 "Maybe the only reason he wasn't being weird about last night was because Jacen was here," Sabine thought, "now that the kid's gone, he can talk about it."

 "Did you sleep okay?" Sabine found herself asking, trying to fill the silence before he did.

 "Not really," Ezra said, "were the bunks on The Ghost always so hard and uncomfortable?"

 "I guess," Sabine half-laughed.

 "Yeah," Ezra shrugged.

 After an uncomfortable minute of silence, Ezra spoke up again.

 "Look, Sabine," Ezra said.

 "Here it comes," Sabine thought.

 "Yeah," Sabine sighed, "look, I…"

 "I'm sorry," Ezra said.

 "What?" Sabine asked. If anyone had to be sorry, Sabine would've thought it was her, what with walking away from him after he'd done something so small.

 "I guess I wasn't thinking very clearly last night," Ezra said, "I feel like I might've made you uncomfortable, and I'm sorry."

 This was probably the best possible outcome, right? He didn't ask her to explain herself. She didn't have to worry about him trying to flirt with her again. Everything could go back to the way it was.

 "It's okay," Sabine said.

 So why did her forgiveness feel like a lie?

 "Good," Ezra said, "because you're the best friend I've ever had. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you again."

 Was it because he'd dismissed his affections for her as "not thinking clearly" and simply called her his "friend?"

 But Sabine simply nodded and smiled and tacked on a "yeah," wondering if Ezra knew what she meant— that she never wanted to lose him again either.

 But before she could find the words to say it, Jacen and Chopper came in, and she knew she'd be best to drop the conversation, especially because she might've led herself to say something very stupid.

— — —

Ezra had a good view of Lothal as The Ghost jumped out of hyperspace, and Sabine had a good view of him as he saw his home planet for the first time in a decade. His eyes lit up with their soft blue glow, and his smile parted to make room for half a laugh and a sigh of amazement.

 "Just like you remember it," Sabine asked, leaning on the back of Ezra's seat in the cockpit.

 "Better," Ezra shook his head, and though Sabine could tell he wanted to say more, for once he'd apparently been rendered dumbstruck instead of just dumb.

 Sabine had been on Lothal for a while before she'd found Ezra, but now it seemed to come to life in all kinds of new ways as she watched it come into view over Ezra's shoulder. The closer they got to the planet's surface, the more landmarks he pointed out with amazement and wonder, at how much had changed, and how much was still the same.

 "Look, there's the old comm tower," Ezra pointed out, as they flew past the tower en route to the capital.

 "Yeah," Sabine nodded, trying not to let on that he wasn't the only one who'd taken up residence there.

 Hera brought The Ghost over Lothal City, which was rich with color and a palpable spirit of festivity today, and landed behind the Capitol building.

 "All these people are here to see me?" Ezra asked, noting the large crowd already gathered in their hangar.

 "The whole city's here to see you," Sabine said, "if not most of the planet. You're their hero."

 Ezra smiled, which is almost redundant even to note in light of how much he'd been smiling since they made it out of hyperspace, but this one was somehow different. Instead of just being the smile of a soldier returning home from a long battle, this one was of a soldier realizing his sacrifice mattered, that he'd done something to bring change in the lives of the people he fought for.

 Moments later, Lothal's hero stood before his friends as the ramp onto the ship lowered, Sabine and Chopper at his right, and Hera and Jacen at his left.

 Sabine started recognizing faces even before the ramp was in position— Jai, Ryder, Tseebo, Senator Organa— and wondered if Ezra remembered them— or if they would've recognized him if they hadn't known he was coming. He hardly looked like the same young man who'd left them all those years ago— though his heart had scarcely changed.

 Jai, Ryder, Leia, and a few others with political significance stepped forward to greet him.

 "Welcome home," Jai said, and as he noticed Ezra's confusion as he tried to remember who he was, he gave him a hint by addressing Ezra with a familiar nickname, "Dev Morgan."

 "Jai?" Ezra asked, "Jai Kell?"

 The two boys were about to give each other a hug, when Jai got pushed out of the way by someone with twice his size and massive purple hands.

 "Zeb?" Ezra asked.

 "It really is you," Zeb laughed and picked Ezra up as he gave him a hug— which was something that, ten years ago, Sabine never would've thought she'd see.

 Chopper beeped something at Zeb along the lines of an "I-told-you-so."

 Zeb set Ezra down and addressed the droid.

 "I believed you right away!"

 Chopper beeped back at him.

 "And I did not put a wager on it." Zeb grumbled. "Actually, I'm pretty sure you did."

 They turned to see Kallus walking over to them, through the gap in the crowd that had been caused by Zeb's pushing and shoving to get to his long-lost crewmate.

 "If memory serves," Kallus said, "you owe the droid and I each fifteen credits."

 "Kallus?" Ezra asked, "you gambled on me coming home?"

 "I spent too long trying to get rid of you to think it'd be that easy," Kallus smiled at Ezra, "welcome back, Bridger."

 "You couldn't've waited another two years to come back?" Zeb mumbled at Ezra over his shoulder as he handed some credits to both Kallus and Chopper.

 Ezra laughed, "if you want, I can go missing again for another decade or two." "Don't you ever do that again," Zeb said, the same way he would've told Ezra not to disturb him while he was sleeping in the old days.

 "Yes sir," Ezra said, "but that's hardly a way to talk to someone who saved your life…." "Hey," Zeb said, "I thought we were even!"

 "Well," Ezra smiled, "technically, I also saved your life when I saved the entire planet…"

 "I'm beginning to wonder why we even wanted you back," Zeb said, and he ruffled Ezra's hair like he was still a little kid.

 "Well," Senator Organa said to Ezra, "I suppose that's a warmer welcome than we ever could've offered you. The New Republic owes you a debt of gratitude, Ezra."

 "Thank you, ma'am," Ezra said, "it's good to be back."

 "It's good to have you back," Ryder said, "Lothal welcomes you with open arms."

 "Then let's get this party started," Ezra said.

 Everyone laughed a little, but for Sabine, it was a lot.

 In all of the greetings and reunions, she'd kept a bit of distance, and as he was swept away with the crowd, she fell behind, watching from the outskirts as he followed them onto the festivities.

———

 Sabine had taken her time in getting to the Capitol balcony— she'd seen parades on Lothal; she wasn't missing much. When she finally made it there, she'd expected to see everyone huddled around Ezra, hounding him with questions and support and camaraderie, and for her place to be off to the side, apart from it all.

 Instead, there seemed to be a little space near where Ezra stood. She saw him turn back and smile at her— double-taking as though he hadn't expected to see her, but had hoped to regardless— and nodded at the empty space next to him, gesturing for her to join him.

 "How could I refuse Lothal's hero?" Sabine thought, though she didn't really need an excuse to be close to him anymore.

 "This is strange," Ezra told her, Sabine barely able to hear him over the sound of the parade below.

 "What is?" Sabine asked.

 "Having a parade in my honor," Ezra said, then waved at the people below, "usually we try to stop these things.'

 "A lot has changed," Sabine said, "but I can't say I don't miss adding some fireworks of my own sometimes."

 A firework exploded above them, though it didn't stand out much against the midday sky.

 "Ametuer," Sabine rolled her eyes.

 Ezra smiled a little, and she found herself smiling back.

 Zeb, who was standing at Ezra's other side, started talking to him, and Jacen and Chopper, standing in front of them, joined in, but above the noise around them, she couldn't hear the boys at all.

 But why did that bother her? Why was it so hard to have to share Ezra's attention now?

 She knew the answer to that one— she'd stumbled upon it last night— those kriffing feelings she'd somehow grown for him, the ones that had, against all logic, made her turn away from him last night.

[mercymermaid]

i need to get my thoughts out there just stay with me

insane amount of sister location headcanons incoming!

the sister location animatronic cast is one massive extremely dysfunctional family

first of all, fuck ennard, this is pre michael's appearance, so he doesn't exist yet <3

ballora is the overall mother figure (i wonder fucking why) and the oldest and most calm, acting as the peacekeeper and trying to keep the rest of the cast calm enough to get shocked to help and back

baby is the little sister (mindblowing!), following ballora around like a little duckling, and is The Main Character (out of the cast, she has the most emo depression moments because she's the only one properly possessed) she's actually pretty shy and skittish at first, but opens up pretty quickly once you crack her shell

the bidybabs and minireenas have the comprehension capacity of literal toddlers, and waddle around all day, being feral creations that will follow anyone's command if they reward them with cuddles afterwards.

now. my favorite demons. the funtimes, the bons, and lolbit.

first of all, funtime foxy and funtime freddy are dating (funtime frexy for life, i can and will die on this hill), my favorite gay man ship ever. ft. foxy and lolbit are.. cousins? nobody knows what exactly they are, but they're similar enough to be directly related, so they roll with it. bonbon and bonnet have some complicated, old couple drama, and are constantly bickering, much to the annoyance and amusement of the rest of the cast. bonbon and ft. freddy are friends till the end, though, they are each other's ride or die (same with ft. foxy and lolbit)

lolbit is also the fucking psycho prankster. being a non-performing character, and having complete access to the location's networks, he has every opportunity ever to cause chaos. he likes to mess with the night guard, for one, but his favorite thing to do is to ruin ft. foxy's performances by changing the light and overall show cues completely, and instead of playing whatever music or audio that should be on, blasts rick rolls. this went on for a solid multiple months until management finally figured out the problem, and poor lolbit lost his overpowered admin access, leaving him very sad and helpless against the oncoming revenge by ft. foxy.

ballora, baby, the minireenas and bidybabs, bonnet, and ft. foxy have killer girls' nights where they give each other 'makeovers' (they're robots, there's not much they can do besides try and apply shitty makeup) and play a poor mockery of dress up with old night guard outfits, and talk trash about the night guards and the other animatronics, along with starting their Evil Plotting (i lied, that's all you get of ennard)

ft. freddy, ft. foxy, lolbit, and bonbon have the equivalent of middle school boy sleepovers on steroids. they steal workers' phones to try and record tiktoks like they've seen "the modern youth" (- lolbit) do, and cause overall destruction to the location. they just do the stupid stuff you'd think of when you hear the saying "girls live longer than men for a reason," because they're accidentally setting stoves on fire and struggling to operate the fire extinguisher, and at one point, lolbit accidentally turned every single light in the entire building into a non-stop strobe light for a solid two hours, until the system had to be restarted (thanks, handunit.)

yeah they're all deranged and silly and totally not killer machines at all thank you for coming to my ted talk