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[bookwyrminspiration]

hi dira im abt to propaganda SO hard. okay so aftg!!! full series name is all for the game and its a teilogy the first book is named the foxhole court. its such a silly silly series you go into it expecting ??? and you come out of it Forever Changed this is not just me being dramatic ask ANY fan and they will agree. its the kinda series you finish and you feel like youre fucking high like you imagined everything like it was all a fucking pipe dream (thats a reference. which you would get. if you read the books. that sounds mildly threatening im sorry but anyways yes read the books!!) no but seriously it may not be the BEST literature ever published but the characters latch onto you the brainworms never cease!! somewhat similar to kotlc!! sure every character is a bit of an asshole but you love them anyways esp as the books go on and you learn a little bit more abt them and get a little bit more attached <3 some of the plot twists hit like a TRUCK you read it and you think no way would this actually happen which!! yeah!! it would not actually happen!! its so crazy and fun and if you like the first book then youll never escape the trap. also yes ik i havent said anything abt like the actual BOOK yet but in my defense a lot of this is just pure FEELING and if nothing else my enthusiasm better convince SOMEONE to read aftg. but anyways the actual book ohhh idk how to describe it its like mafia/sports/found family??? i dont know i think i described it somewhat better in my pinned post (more propaganda. everyone go read my pinned post and then read aftg) okay i think im done now!!!!

hi averyy I am not immune to propaganda, I've actually casually looked for the series before just because you've put it on my dash enough I was like right wots all this then? In order to read it I'll have to check out the ebook from my library (not my preferred way to read but its okay), but it's on my list don't you worry. I have other things to read through first but it is, in fact, on my tbr. Because of you.

You're right this really has told me like nothing about what the book is actually about, just that you really love it and lose your mind over it, but that's okay because that's enough <3. I think it's about a fake sport, and one of the main characters smokes a lot (but in a hot way that makes him sexier...?), but that's about as much as I could tell you. Oh they're the foxes. Are there lesbians? I feel like there's been mention of a mean lesbian, or maybe just a sapphic in general but I'm not at all confident in that.

Anyway, thanks for the propaganda I'll read it :) eventually

[superchat]

im bad at sql

[saetoshis]

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ ON DUTY | kaiju no. 8 headcanons

⋆୨୧˚ WITH: ichikawa reno ; hoshina soshiro ; gen narumi

⋆୨୧˚ SUMMARY: where and how they like to fuck you on-base!

⋆୨୧˚ MATURE CONTENT WARNINGS:

fem reader, exhibitionism, suit play [?], oral f. receiving, creampie, pet names [baby, pretty girl], MDNI.

⋆୨୧˚ ICHIKAWA RENO

one thing about reno is his ability to be sly when he needs to. thinking outside the box, considering enemy moves one step ahead - he can truly be sneaky. that might be why he so easily came up with a plan to sneak out after lights-out just to meet up with you. he found an empty office, making sure patrols or cameras were nowhere to be found.

"shh, little quieter, okay?" reno mutters under his breath as he presses his palm over your mouth gently, his other hand having two fingers buried inside your needy pussy. you're so close together, having only a cramped space to do this; your legs wrap around his waist as you sit on the desk, chest pressed up against his. "just moan into my hand, yeah, like that."

"h-hard to be quiet when you're- mm- going so hard," you whimper out airily into his hand, your head reeling back when he fucks his fingers into you a certain way. your thighs shudder around him, and you can feel his cock growing harder each second he's pressed up against you. your arms wrap around his neck, fingers flitting through his hair erratically.

"gonna put it in now, 'kay?" reno pants out in need as he replaces his fingers with his cock, sliding in languidly and savoring each and every desperate enclosure of your cunt around him. he moans out a small 'fuck' when he starts to rut his hips, letting them merge into a quick rhythm that has you clinging onto him and whimpering against his big shoulder. "f-fuck, baby... feels so good. want you to cum on my dick, yeah."

the two of you are so lost in ecstasy that you don't realize the rhythmic bump of the desk against the wall, desperately attempting to muffle each other's moans and mews as you get closer and closer. with a heavy final rut and a shuddered moan out loud, you both are sent reeling in pleasure as you make a mess of each other. reno tries to catch his breath, coming to with a small gasp, "fuck, do you think anybody heard? i should find a better place next time..."

⋆୨୧˚ HOSHINA SOSHIRO

hoshina isn't one for breaking the rules necessarily, or even one to slack off while on the clock - but tonight was different. it was unbelievably late, the whole third division command center was essentially empty, and all kaiju within a ten mile radius were silent on the radar. maybe he could get away with it...

he doesn't even bother slipping out of his anti-kaiju suit before he's lifting you onto the control panel counter, lips pressing messy, open-mouthed kisses along the crook of your neck. all he can think about is how dirty it feels to fuck you where anybody could walk in at any moment. "wanna try somethin' new i've been thinkin' about."

"huh?" you query between heavy panted breaths, slipping your thighs further apart on either side of his hips to accommodate him. you both watch closely as his fingers slowly remove your suit, wandering your waist, then your hips, then your panties. all hoshina mutters along the shell of your ear is a rasped, "i'll show you what."

you finally start to put two and two together when he unzips his own tight-fitted suit, yet keeps it on his body as he presses the head of his cock against the wet spot on your panties. he languidly slips the fabric to the side, letting out a low grunt as he presses his forehead against yours when he ruts forwards. "fuck- wanna see how much you can take with the suit on. you can handle it, can't ya?"

you nod eagerly, already letting out little whines in time with each heavy rock of his hips. it already feels more intense than usual, and he hasn't even put much force into it. you shudder when he picks up the pace, his muscles tautening each time he ruts harder in succession. it's when his hands grip at your thighs and he fucks a bit rougher that you're whimpering out behind your hand in an attempt to stay quiet. "shh- that's it, take it. think you can lemme work up to 50% tonight?"

⋆୨୧˚ GEN NARUMI

narumi doesn't have a problem playing it a little risky, especially when it comes to work. he'd rather laze around as long as possible before he has to get suited up - but backwardly, he also has no problem taking his time fucking you on a time crunch, either.

"narumi, aren't you supposed to start patrol in like, 5 minutes?" you pant out between strained whimpers, trying so hard not to get sucked into his explorative touches and tantalizing kisses. you hold back a shudder when his hand drags up your shirt, circling your nipple and watching it eagerly harden under his fingers. "can't be doing this right now..."

"don't care," he sneers and flashes you an obstinate, yet enigmatic look in his eyes as he slips your shirt upwards. he has you lay on your back as he dips his head down your chest, leaving flicks of his tongue and panted kisses on your tits. it's when his fingers start rubbing between your thighs that you start to cave, feeling a pressure building in your body. narumi looks back up at you, a mischievous glint in his gaze. "wan' you to cum all over my face before i leave. not gonna suit up 'til you do, pretty girl."

"that's so irresponsible-" you start, cut off by a shivered gasp when he slips your shorts and panties off and buries his face between your legs. his tongue swipes along your clit as his fingers dig into the plushness of your hips, little groans leaving his mouth as he tastes and tastes until he's satisfied. knowing him, it'll take a while before he is. "p-please, narumi, they're gonna yell at you."

"don't care. think they're gonna fire me? their strongest captain? nahh," narumi sneers before returning his tongue back to your clit, sucking and rolling his tongue against it over and over again. he knows you're close, he knows how your body works. it's when he uses his fingers to curl against that spot in your walls that he's moaning out, 'cum for me, cum for me, yeah', and watching you shudder as you release all the pent-up stress from your week. a voice sounds over his receiver, barking orders for him to hurry to command center. he sighs, "i know, i know. i'm on the way now."

he turns off the mic again, his little grin coming back to his face. "see? got it done in five minutes, didn't i? better wait for when i get back, yeah? not done with you just yet."

2024 SAETOSHIS. do not copy/repost.

[harmonysanreads]

“A little bird told me that today is a certain someone's birthday.”

You feel the distinct prickle of two fangs halt halfway through the curve of your throat, a breath stuttering against the now marred skin. The tassels of Aventurine's earning tickles your nape, before his lips replace its unsought touches, soothing over the bite.

“I don't quite recall this,” he drawls upon your neck, gloved fingers slide up from the plush of your thighs and slant against your waist ; a clear message. “Being the resting place of wanton birds.”

You heart kicks against your ribcage as the implications of his words soak into your brain. Your eyes connect with enigmatic swirls when you swivel with a gasp, “It's just one little bird, Aventurine.”

He hums, a ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips, reaching out and failing to grasp his eyes. You feel his other arm wrap around your abdomen and tugging you closer closer closer— until not even whimsical air can intervene in your moment. For a time insignificant compared to the expanding cosmos, he leers and he waits — for you to stumble and forfeit your fortune to him. You've observed this game unfold many times, which is why, you don't so much as blink in the face of his scrutiny.

Aventurine tilts his head, the golden strands that frame his face shift in stride, “It's ‘one little bird’ for now, my jewel. Soon, it'll fly to-and-fro and invite its companions. One bird will become two birds, then three, four, five — until this flower of mine will be torn to shreds.”

Your skin erupts in pins and needles where the blonde's hand rests, the teases of pain make you lean your head against his chest in reflex, but they don't coax pained breaths to escape your lips. Your eyes gloss over upon capturing the dimming orbs heralding the colors of a bygone lineage. You feel as though you were lost in a dark landscape, with a shadowed fox breathing down your neck, claws already sunk midway — but you don't feel like the struggling rabbit, like a prey.

Your palm cradles Aventurine's face, “That's why we keep guns below our pillows, isn't that correct?”

The phantom finally reaches his eyes, his grin spreads across his face and the sun casts aside the darkness from the forest. Aventurine answers your query by tackling you with a flurry of kisses, you feel him at every corner of your body, grasping at every crevice of your soul — but it's not enough, neither for him nor for you.

When the intensity of his advance wanes momentarily, you sneak your hand past his grip to rest atop his chest, “Tell me your wish,” this time his heart revolts against the confines of bone, yearning to be freed and caged into your palm. “What gift do you want for your birthday?”

Aventurine chuckles, though it sounds quite strained this time. His fingers encircle your wrist and press your hand further on his chest for a moment (his shirt does little to mute the rapid marching of his soul) before he drags it to his face, his lips ghost over your pulse point.

“You don't think me to be that greedy, do you?” the humorous lilt of his voice prompts a smile to bloom on your face, too. He sighs as though he breathes in the gardens of heaven, lips firmly pressed to the beat of your existence.

“How can I ever wish for anything more when I have the whole world in my hands?” his eyes twinkle, hugged by a smile. They remind you of autumn sunsets blending into an awestruck ocean, before disappearing behind nightfall.

And just like them, you embrace and merge into one another, as well.

Happy birthday to the luckiest, prettiest, Aventurine <3

[chelseeebe]

too sweet (for me) p2

lines begin to blur between his two lives, eddie feels hopeless at any semblance of keeping you away from that side of him. how does he fair when murray drags you kicking and screaming into this world?

a/n: so perhaps this is a little dramatic and very soap opera-esque but it was so much fun to write! i have a little thing i’d like to write for a part 3 but it is very much domesticity and sadness so we’ll see hehe <3

read part one here.

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of drugs and crime references throughout. eddie munson x fem!reader

eddie lingers over your shoulder, catching glimpses of him in the mirror as you fluff your hair and pucker your lips. he likes to sit and watch you get ready, just like how he used to watch his mom when he was much younger.

“so where are you going tonight?” he queries, a hint of territoriality about his question.

you shrug, swiping the lipgloss over your lips, “probably ace’s.. i don’t know yet,” meeting his eyes through the mirror.

admittedly, it had been a tough few weeks. he shut down for a few days, restricted to his bed as you cleaned up the mess he brought home. you were just grateful to have eddie back, the colour slowly coming back to his face thanks to your gentle love.

“i’ll take you,” arms snaking around your waist, “unless you wanna stay?” peppering kisses to your neck, the sweet scents of your overzealous sprits of perfume overwhelming his nose.

you giggle, though you make zero effort to shake him off, “i’m going,” wrapping your hand around his arm to keep it from travelling any further up your dress.

a tiny sense of guilt hits your chest, he was still shaken by whatever had happened. you’d practically moved yourself into his apartment, taking care of him for weeks. he’d rarely been alone since the day he’d stumbled in here with bloody hands and a newfound stammer.

“okay,” he relents, “what time do you think you’ll be done? i’ll come and get you,” face nestled into the crook of your neck.

you wouldn’t put it past him to just wait outside for hours, ready and waiting to see you again.

“why don’t you just come? i’m sure the girls won’t mind.”

he shakes his head, planting one last kiss to your shoulder before letting go, “no no.. you have fun,” nodding, as if to assure himself that he’d be fine.

eddie drives you right to the door, ignoring the disgruntled bouncers trying to get him to move. “don’t do anything stupid, i’ll be here when you’re ready,” squeezing your knee as you gather your bag from the floor.

you lean over the leather console, pecking his lips, leaving a small smudge of glittery gloss as you go.

“yessir.. love you,” before clambering out of the car, knowing smile plastered across your face as the door shuts.

there had been a sense of uncertainty about saying it, though you’d felt it for a short while now. only solidified by the last couple of weeks and the newfound upset you felt to be leaving him. it was like all your feelings were merged into one, dread bundled together with excitement. a scary but otherwise comforting feeling.

he immediately rolls your window down, leaning forward to catch you properly, “what? what’d you say?”

you shrug, scampering off into the queue as he watches, mouth hung open in sheer shock.

what you didn’t know was that eddie had been toying with the same sentiment, adamant to not scare you away but otherwise desperate to tell you.

he pulls off, beaming from ear to ear, counting down the seconds until he sees you again.

-

you perch on the marble countertop, legs swinging as eddie accidentally brushes past for the thousandth time, hand lingering on your thigh for a few seconds too long. the pot threatening to boil over if he keeps neglecting it in lieu of you.

“why’re you looking at me like that?” he asks, resuming his position at the stovetop.

he’d carefully perfected his little chef routine, throwing god knows what into the pan as if he had any clue what he was doing.

“i just can’t believe that you’re cooking for me.. have you ever even used this kitchen before?” chuckling at him, wishing he had gone all out and worn an apron.

“what the hell are you talking about? i cook all the time,” smooth talking, attempting to distract you from the near burnt pan of food in front of him.

“i don’t believe you,” you tease, glancing wearily at your supposed dinner. knowing damn well that he’d be on his way to pick something up in the next half an hour.

he leaves his station, faux-angry stare on his face as he leans on your knees, “you won’t be having any of this if you’re gonna keep being rude.”

the buzzer interrupts before you can insult his skill, or lack thereof, any longer.

eddie frowns towards the door, “i’ll get it,” trying hard to palm the cooking onto you.

“no no,” you hop down from the counter, “you try not to burn anything else and i’ll get it,” already out of the kitchen before he can protest.

the door opens to a man you’ve never seen before, glasses and crazy hair accompanying his toothy grin. those two goons eddie has to babysit sometimes are stood behind, looking as foolish as ever with their hands over their chests.

“ah! just the woman i wanted to see,” he beams, pointing into the apartment, “can i come in?”

“i’m sorry- who are you?”

but before the maniacal man can answer, eddie begins from behind, “let him in,” voice full of regret, you had wished you’d never hear it again.

you open the door wider, watching as they file in to the apartment. dumb and dumber barely able to walk on their own two feet without tripping over each other.

your eyes meet eddie’s but you can’t place whatever it is he’s trying to say. a look of warning maybe, hesitance and slight fear in his usually soft eyes. you’d figured it was something to do with his work, maybe the scene you had walked into those few weeks ago.

“have a seat,” the man smiles, gesturing towards the sofa.

they sit strategically, boxing you into the empty seat in between those two idiots. forcing you apart, a twisted mind game you wanted no part of.

eddie looks wracked with worry, sitting in the empty seat next to the other man. you want to jump up, order them to leave and do this some other time.

“i’m murray,” the man announces, staring right into your soul, “i work with eddie here.. for.. what is it? seven years now?” thumping eddie on the back.

he nods, chewing on his lower lip, choosing to stare at the floorboards rather than you, which stings a little.

“anyway! i didn’t come to small talk, i’m sure you two are very busy with whatever it is you young people do in your free time,” murray scrunches his nose, returning his heavy gaze to you. “i have a problem, you see, i’m a salesman, i sell things and to sell things, i have to get my product to different places,” nodding along with his words.

your eyes flit between him and eddie, figuring out exactly what he was asking.

“so,” he begins again, leaning forward, elbows pressed to his knees, “i need you to take it there,” not looking at eddie or either of the two losers beside you.

you. he was looking at you.

eddie interjects, “no, absolutely not,” jaw clenched taut, his fists balled by his sides.

“i didn’t ask you,” murray spits back.

you can see eddie’s chest heaving, anger bubbling through his body.

“where?”

their eyes fall back to you, eddie blinking rapidly. it’s like he can’t believe you’d ever agree to something so stupid.

“well all you’d have to do is take.. a bag down to.. mexico.”

“-mexico?” eddie interrupts again, jumping forward in his seat.

murray’s face turns to confusion, “is that not what i said? jeff! is that not what i said?”

jeff nods along, “that’s what you said,” like a creepy puppet doll, obeying his master.

“she can’t.. mexico, murray? that’s too far-”

“and why can’t she, eddie?” turning to face your boyfriend, a stern glare plastered firmly on his face, “i’m not hearing any objections from her, so what’s your problem?”

eddie looks up, catching your eye, chewing on the inside of his cheek. he’s swallowing whatever objection he has contained on his tongue. but you’re not stupid.

you either do this or your life gets very complicated, you’d seen enough movies to know that men like murray don’t fuck around.

“okay,” you say meekly, holding eddie’s gaze in hope that he’ll understand, that he knows you well enough now to know that you’re agreeing for both of your sakes.

“great,” murray beams, “my cousin has an apartment down there, you can stay a few days.. enjoy the scenery, whatever i don’t care,” ignoring eddie’s huffs of defiance.

you don’t remember a lot of what he says next, talking about the drop and other insignificant details. eddie volunteers to head down before you, wait for you in mexico to ensure everything goes to plan, which you appreciate.

they get up to leave while you’re still sat weighing up your decision and how badly this could end. eddie walks them to the door, glad to see them gone.

murray yanks him out of the door, tight grip onto his arm, “you wanna buy her a nice shiny ring?” glowering directly into his face, “or a big house so you can knock her up a couple’a times before you give this all up? hmm?”

eddie swallows, adams apple bobbing nervously in his throat. but nods, because he does want that. it’s all he’s wanted since he met you.

“then you’ll do whatever i tell you to do, okay?” face only mere inches away, “this is how you get those things.”

eddie doesn’t say a word as he stomps back in, heading straight for his bedroom without so much as a glance toward you.

his cold shoulder cuts deep, wedging a lump into your throat. you did this for him, for both of you. it wasn’t as if you had much choice between going to mexico or losing eddie.

you creep into the silent room what felt like hours later, heart aching for just a hint of reassurance.

he’s sat on the bed, facing the window, back to the door. you don’t want to startle him but feel absolute desperation to talk to him.

“eddie?” speaking quietly into the room.

he sighs, shoulders relaxing at the sound of your voice.

“i’m sorry if i said the wrong thing.. i was just trying to help,” blinking away the sharp tears threatening to spill.

you linger in the doorway, wary of the thick cloud of tension that had settled over the apartment.

“i’m not.. angry at you,” standing at last, turning to face after an eternity apart. he slinks over, ashamed of his own actions, he had never wanted to make you feel like this. “i didn’t want you to get involved in all this shit,” shaking his head as he walks over, throwing his arms around your sunken shoulders, “i don’t wanna lose you.”

you rest your cheek on his chest, slinging your arms tight around his waist, “you’re not going to,” and you meant it.

- eddie’s pov -

eddie has nearly thrown up at least twenty times since he’d left you for the airport.

he was going to land in mexico a couple hours before you hopefully arrived.

the plane journey is long, his only thoughts being you. if you were safe. if you’d made it onto the plane or not. watching the clock, waiting to just land and be one step closer to knowing.

murray had swindled his friend into letting you stay at his place for a few days, a large villa not too far from the airport. it’s warm and he’s sweating through his clothes, dumping his bag on the floor without a care in the world.

stepping out onto the balcony and lighting a cigarette whilst simultaneously trying his hardest not to hyperventilate. you should be on the plane by now, somewhere 3000 miles above, safe and sound.

squishing all of the echoing thoughts of what if or the images of you in a cell somewhere in mexico. it does nothing for the churning in his stomach, tossing the half-finished cigarette off into the distance somewhere.

eddie is restless, buzzing around the house as he waits rather impatiently for you to waltz through the door.

you should be here by now. the blazing sun finally setting in the sky, though he’s still sweating.

the clock ticks loudly, as if it were taunting him. every second you’re not here, he descends further into his despair, heart pounding as he paces the creaking floorboards.

a short wrap at the door makes him jump but he wastes no time in answering it, throwing the door open to find a strangely docile and calm version of you. polar opposite to how he had spent the last few hours.

“oh my god,” breathing a sigh of relief, unable to stop himself from lifting you from the ground, spinning around the warm evening air as you shriek.

you’re still elevated when he puckers his lips, attacking any skin he could get ahold of. a chorus of high pitched squeals and giggles coming from above, sending his heart into a frenzy.

“put me down,” you order, whacking him on the back, right between the shoulder blades.

he does as he’s told, still clinging onto your waist, fearing you’ll just slip away again. he felt a thousand pounds lighter, to see you, hold you again after only a few hours.

“you’re okay? how was it? did anyone stop you?” going a million miles at once, keeping you at arms length as he examines your face.

“it was fine,” you chuckle, your nonchalance a little unsettling, “nobody even looked at me,” shrugging your shoulders as if you hadn’t just smuggled a kilo of cocaine over the border.

“jesus christ,” eddie exhales, cupping your cheek in his hand, “you’re not doing that again, i’ll kill him if he asks,” he thinks he might just kill him anyway. his heart had nearly given out a hundred times, hell would freeze over before he ever let murray do something so stupid again.

“okay okay,” you brush past eddie, fed up already of his incessant coddling, marvelling at the view outside the apartment.

he slings your bag over his shoulder, joining you at the window, “nice, isn’t it?” knocking his elbow gently into your side.

he’d already envisioned how he would have you bent over the balcony later.

“let’s go out tonight,” looking toward him with your sparkly eyes, “i want to celebrate not getting arrested.”

eddie’s head lulls to the side, trying to hide his disappointment. “do we have to?” grabbing your waist to pull you closer, brazenly attempting to get you to stay here.

“yes,” you order, palms flat on his chest, “if you love me, you’ll go.”

-

you’re squished into the tiny booth, legs draped over eddies thighs as people come and go all around. he’s not interested in anything else going on in the busy bar, just you.

sharing lazy kisses between drinks, his hand resting on your thigh, ever so slowly inching upwards.

eddie hadn’t even wanted to leave the house, hoping you’d spend three days fucking your way around the furniture.

instead, you’d somehow convinced him to go out. though he couldn’t resist when you stepped out with that tiny dress on, sitting perfectly on your hips.

your nose brushes against his, breathing in the thick air that sat between you. the room could very well be ablaze right now, but eddie wouldn’t even notice. too consumed with you, palming at the inside of your thigh as his eyes gaze into yours.

“‘m gonna get a drink,” he breathes, squeezing your thigh before shifting your legs back to the floor.

he dares to look back when he reaches the bar, eyes immediately drawn to the six foot something adonis now lingering by the booth.

eddie wasn’t particularly jealous or insecure, secure in the fact that you were his and nothing would change that. but he couldn’t help but let a little envy seep into his eyes.

a fire burning in his stomach at the sight of you chittering away to this stranger. you weren’t a stranger to attention, not one to shy away. so why should you now?

he grits his teeth on the walk back over, grip tightening around the glasses, prepared to smash them over this pricks head.

“who’s this?” painting on his fakest smile, sliding back into the booth next to you.

you glance at eddie, just long enough for him to see that terrible glint in your eye. preparing for trouble.

“this is..” reaching out for the strangers arm, “sorry, what was your name again?” batting your lashes, an act eddie was used to and yet, still detested.

“alejandro,” the man purrs, taking your hand in his.

eddie resists the urge to jump across the table and wring his neck. biting on his cheek rather than letting what he really wants to say out.

“alejandro,” you echo, all starry eyed.

he’s not going to play up to it, well aware that you don’t actually give a shit about the chiseled man. you just want a reaction from eddie, maybe throw his weight around a little so you could reward him later.

you look back at eddie, pouting a little when he doesn’t give you what you want. confusion plagues your expression before you quickly drop the man’s hand, displeased with the reaction, or lack thereof, you had been given so far.

“it was nice to meet you,” eddie nods, shooing him away without so much as a look at you.

he slinks away, leaving the two of you sat in uncomfortable silence. taking careful sips of his drink, calculating his next move as he was sure you would also be doing.

“d’you wanna go home?” you pry, attempting to snake your arm around his though he doesn’t budge.

“do you?”

your eyes flash with hurt only momentarily until a lightbulb flickers and you realise getting him home means one step closer to getting what you’re fiending after.

“yeah.”

eddie nods, standing from the booth, “lets go then,” more so barking his order rather than asking.

and you’d follow along like a dumb little dog because the result was always always worth the temporary wait.

-

eddie’s a smart man, at least sometimes.

he’s wise to your games and refuses to rise to it. flopping onto the bed, watching as you dance around the room, antsy and eager for his reaction.

his hands are itching to touch you, enjoying every last second of you flitting about, the anxious eye contact as you get ready for bed.

you’ve just about had enough when he doesn’t react to your new pyjamas. not even a nod of acknowledgement. nada. nothing.

“eds,” you huff, jutting your bottom lip out as far as it’ll go, “is that it? you’re not even gonna talk to me?”

he pulls his eyes from the window, containing his smirk. you’re putty in his hands and you don’t even know it, falling right into his trap.

“what? i’m talking to you right now?”

the mattress dips as you climb on top, “you’re being weird.”

“i’m not being weird?”

your nostrils flare, tired of his silly little act. taking matters into your own hands by clambering onto his lap, perching atop of his thighs.

“stop being a dick and touch me,” you pout, practically begging for an inch of his attention. your hands grab onto his, placing them on your waist in an attempt to make him do something.

eddie weighs up his options, deciding that pushing your buttons one last time would make everything all the more worthwhile.

he lets his arms flop back into the bed, sighing softly, “baby, i’m tired,” jutting his chin to the sky, urging himself to not just toss you onto the bed and pound you into the mattress.

he hadn’t anticipated your reaction, climbing from his legs to stand beside him, “maybe alejandro would touch me,” you spit, turning to stomp out of the room as if he wouldn’t chase you to the ends of the earth.

eddie jumps up, bounding after you to grab your waist, pulling you back toward the bed with a squeak.

“too fuckin’ bad he’s not going to then, isn’t it?” pinning you between his body and the mattress. “you gonna stop being a little bitch?”

he hates that you’re not even mad, wild eyes glinting in the dim light, as you nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

“huh? you gone shy on me all of a sudden?”

your head shakes, stars in your eyes and absolutely any thought drained from your pretty little head. “beg for it,” he barks, nose just barely brushing against yours.

“please,” you gulp, fire burning in your stomach, at mercy to his touch.

eddie stands up straight, pulling your body down the bed by the legs, hips banging against your heat, groaning at the contact.

“hmm,” he hums, manoeuvring your thighs onto his shoulders, “i can’t hear you sweetheart,” palming at the doughy skin as his hands trail upwards.

“please eddie,” you whine, guiding his hands back down, aching for them to slide between your legs. “i need you,” rutting your hips with every grope and grab he allows.

his boxers strain against your silky pyjama shorts, the utter desperation dripping from your throat makes him crazy, electricity buzzing through his bloodstream.

he’s addicted to you. the way you feel, the way you smell, the way your body keens and melts for him.

“fuck,” lips vibrating against your neck, “stop playing those stupid games with me,” though quite honestly, he did enjoy the little chase routine you guys had curated.

you nod, arching your hips to allow him to slip your shorts down, working them down and off onto the floor. his hands slithering back up over the soft skin until his hand rests comfortably on your thigh.

eddie would love to toy around with you a little bit longer but his dick was starting to ache against his boxers with every not-so-subtle move of your hips.

he stands up straight, tugging the cotton down his thighs, the elastic resting just beneath his heavy balls.

his fingers slide between your slick folds, disappearing inside your cunt, pulling the strangled moan from your lips with every dip of his fingers.

“look at you,” he purrs, though he knows you’ll make no effort to actually look, “so pretty for me,” admiring your pussy, pupils near enough heart shaped.

his knees dig into the mattress, hovering above as his fingers grip onto your hips, sinking in to your cunt with a hoarse groan.

you cry out, grateful for him giving you what you had begged for at long last. hands flailing about for something to grab, fingers twisting around the soft cotton blanket, pulling the sheets from the bed.

eddie’s hands roam all over, palming your breasts and then back down to your calves, keeping them firmly balanced on his chest.

“fuck baby,” he coos, forcing himself to go slow, savour the feeling. you’re insatiable like this, sprawled out on the mattress, head thrown back, full of nothing.

hand disappearing between your legs as his thumb circles your neglected clit, watchful eyes lapping up your every move your body makes in response to him.

he’d never believed in all that soulmate shit before meeting you but now he couldn’t fathom the idea of ever being with anyone other than you. two people made to fit together by some grace of god.

your thighs cramp around his wrist, keeping his hand firmly there while you writhe around.

your eyes squeeze shut, eddie can already feel you clench around him, “you gonna cum already?” he teases, what kind of boyfriend would he be if not to mock you.

“n-no,” you gasp, fingers intertwined with the white sheets surrounding your head.

the headboard knocks gently against the wall with every thrust of his hips, the cool midnight breeze seeping in through the open window though it does nothing to stop eddie’s brow from sweating.

you snap, coming undone all around him, melodic moans filling the room, somewhere tangled between his low grunts and the filthy sounds of your bodies meeting.

“good girl,” he coos, reaching up to hold your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look up at him.

your eyes glossy with tears, lips puffy and swollen when your hand wraps around his wrist, struggling to hold eye contact as his thrusts continue.

biting down on your bottom lip, becoming a puddle of nothingness right before his eyes.

“sh-shit,” you mewl, his thumb still circling your clit, pulling you straight back to orgasm.

eddie leans over, pressing his dripping chest to yours as his hand slinks down to your neck, loosely squeezing the skin all while your lips meet in a hazy, messy kiss.

“one more.. for me,” he pants into your mouth, burying himself inside of your cunt, filled to the hilt.

only responding with a drawn out wail, clinging onto his cheeks for a little levity. his cock nudging your sweet spot. tipping you closer and closer to the edge once more.

“fu-uck,” you pant, sucking on his bottom lip. he can feel you tighten around him, thighs drawing him in. “cum in me,” babbling nonsense into his mouth.

there’s no way he can think clearly, too utterly lovesick with your pussy for any critical thought to seep in. it was a bad idea, his gut told him as much.

but at the end of it all, he’d give you what you wanted. no matter what.

“you want that? hmm?” breathing through his teeth.

your head nods enthusiastically, bleary eyes meeting again, sweat mixing with your tears of overstimulation and exhaustion.

disgusting and erotic all at once.

eddie can feel your legs begin to quiver around him, pretty little mouth falling slack, threatening to swallow him whole.

“ohmygod,” you rush, chest heaving rapidly as your eyes flutter shut.

eddie near enough chokes on the thick air, a pitiful final few thrusts before filling your cunt. a decision he’d regret in the morning but made perfect sense for right now.

he grunts, the air knocked from his lungs at the immense, earth-shattering feel of you and your body enveloping him.

tendrils of his hair come loose from the haphazard bun he had thrown up, covering your pretty, dewy face.

“‘s that what you wanted?” balancing carefully on his elbows, carefully brushing your hair from your sticky forehead.

“yes,” grinning wearily, your hand gentle as it now lay on his cheek.

“you’re gonna be the death of me, y’know?”

“mhm,” you hum in agreement, fingers delicately weaving into his hair, “just don’t die before we get married.”

his smile fades, fingers poised as they tuck your hair behind your ear, “are you saying you wanna get married?” completely prepared to slide down onto one knee right here and now.

your nail traces carefully over the scar on his cheek, gazing lovingly into his eyes, “obviously,” pausing momentarily, “you still have to ask me properly though.”

eddie’s laugh bubbles over, burying his face into your chest, wondering how long after this conversation he’d have to wait to ask and just how much he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life right here, next to you.

[literallydontknowdontcare]

idk if you’ve done this already bc all the vanessa fics r merging together in my brain, but maybe smtg where she has a very stressful day at work, and needs to take her anger out in a healthy way (by doing the reader!!!)

Taking It Out On You

a/n: I love this prompt but I was on a certain sleepy drug when writing (I'm sick as hell right now) so I have no idea if this is good LOL. Anyway, exams are officially over so MORE FICS! YAY! And thanks for the love recently, you all are amazing :) Enjoy!

Content/Warning: smut, choking, pussy slapping, fingering [all r receiving], exhausted/pissed off Vanessa, handcuff use, gun used on you to get you off, you being a good baker, side note I love the Elizabeth lail edits recently 

w/c: 2304

You swayed your hips to the radio. Recently, there was more 80s music than new age, which you weren’t complaining about; sure, you missed hearing the newly hyped singer Miss Britney Spears, but even you had to admit Tears for Fears had a kick to it. Kneading into the last of the cookie dough, you conveniently hear the rumble of Vanessa's police vehicle pulling up to your shared home. Smiling, you pause the music, swiping off the flour that dusted the white countertops onto your apron just as the engine outside slows to a halt. The bench is now fairly clean, you wait eagerly as you see the faint outline of your girlfriend emerging from the car through the window.

The front door clicks open. You hear Vanessa’s footsteps thud a lot less carefully; usually, she would sneak up behind you from wherever you were in the house. She gradually got better at it, too, her dangerous job teaching her a thing or two. It was unlike her to come home after a long shift careless, thudding her jacket and gear on the ground before pressing herself behind you. She inhaled the scent of your freshly washed hair, groaning.

“Bad day?”, you ask, grabbing the pan of unbaked goods and placing them into the oven, Vanessa moving with you so she didn’t have to remove her grasp around you. She huffed as a reply. As you stood back up, she whipped you around, momentarily giving you whiplash. You took in her expression for the first time; her eyes were essentially dead, her pressed lips giving the smallest of indications that she was happy to be home as she attempted a smile when your eyes met.

“It was... Definitely a day”, she sighed. You tilted your head, lifting your hands to cup her face.

“Want to talk about it?”, you prod gently. It seemed that Vanessa was experiencing harder rosters more frequently than before: you presumed it was the pressure of her father, whom she almost never talked about, getting to her. Vanessa simply stared behind you at the oven, her dull eyes beginning to twinkle. “Chocolate chip?”, she questioned, avoiding your query.

You bit your lip and nodded. Her eyes met yours again and you pushed your face closer to hers, not quite reaching her lips but certainly leaving the possibility. Maintaining eye contact, you reach behind her head and softly pull on the hairtie of her ponytail, letting her short, blonde hair loose. She fluttered her eyes closed, groaning. You slide your fingers through the strands of her hair, pulling on them slightly to release any tension. Vanessa inhaled deeply. Pressing your lips against her jaw, you start to pepper her face with small kisses when you feel her take her hands off you, to your dismay.

*Shuffle shuffle*

Vanessa fiddled with her police belt, something that made your groin twist deliciously just from the sound of it. It usually meant one of two things: either she was about to take it off and with it her pants, or she was about to use something *from her belt*. As you attempt to part your lips from her face, she cuts you off.

“Don’t look”, she retorts. As much as you’d like to disobey those orders, there was no way you wanted to be her day even shittier. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you rest your head against her neck as you feel her take something off her belt. Smirking, she raises the object up to your stomach, pressing it deep into your flesh. You gasp and jump back, the coolness startling you. Before you could look down, she spun you around, slamming you against the sink. You whine, your knuckles gripping onto the counter. Vanessa returned to your behind in a flash, grinding her front against you. Disappointingly, you couldn’t feel a strap underneath her pants. You huff, which she notices immediately.

Grabbing onto your neck with a force that startled you, she brought you up so that you were standing straight up as opposed to being bent over. “With what I’m about to do to you, we won’t be needing my cock, baby”, she growled, her hand beginning to tighten around the sides of your neck. You gasp out, your hands rising to your neck to ease the grip, only to be yanked away behind you.

“Vanessa”, you cautioned, unsure of what she was getting at. You heard the jangle of the metal cuffs and froze. “You wanted to help me, yeah?”, she sang sweetly. “Baking me something, cleaning up the front of the house for me”, regarding the time you spent earlier today reorganizing and decorating the place for winter to make it homier.

“You want to make me feel good?”

You don’t hesitate to answer. “Always”

“Then let me use you”. You hear the clank of the cuffs being closed around your hands tightly, Vanessa's leg coming up between your legs that you opened just for her. “Let me see you come with my gun in your mouth”. At that sentence alone, you couldn’t help but let out a moan, jolting your hips involuntarily down on the thigh she had graciously given you. She laughed darkly behind you, removing herself completely from you, making you cry out and turn around to face her. You already missed her manicured hand that fit so perfectly around your neck, acting like a necklace you wished you could always have.

“Couch, baby”, Vanessa demanded, allowing herself to watch you as you made your way out of the room; God, you being in her handcuffs with a vacant, submissive look in your eyes made her want to double down on being rough with you. She followed you soon after, the only thing missing from her outfit being the cuffs that were around your hands and the gun... That was being held so confidently in Vanessa's right hand.

You shifted from your position on the couch, unsure. She laid it beside you, her mouth twitching at your confusion, before climbing on top of you to straddle your waist. She slammed her lips onto yours passionately, hot saliva mixing on both lips. Your moans gradually got louder as her hands attached to the back of your head, roughly pulling at your hair. Vanessa bites your lip harshly, grinning as you try to back away. Her hands leave your hair and begin to forcefully strip your pants from your body. Parting your lips from hers, you lift your legs up to assist her. The soft warm light from the living room lamp perfectly accentuated each other's features; Vanessa's eyes were completely focused on you, taking your sticky panties and flushed cheeks.

“Top off”, she leaned back, watching you rush to meet her demand, smirking as you fumbled with the buttons of your shirt. Now being completely naked, your skimpy bra and underwear being the only things covering your very aroused parts, she spread your thighs with an air of smugness.

“Vanessa”, you pout, jerking your pussy up. She trailed a slim finger along the top of your briefs, pulling them down slowly. Your breasts rise and fall rapidly at the sensuality of it all: the relaxed pace made you even more blushed. Moving her fingers around your folds, you lean your head back, closing your eyes in pleasure. Suddenly, Vanessa slapped at your pussy. Crying out, you snap your head back up and shut your legs. She didn’t like that. Narrowing her eyes, she yanked them back open, harshly slapping the inner side. “Keep them open. Don’t make me tie up your legs as well”. You squirm as she rubs her middle and ring finger quickly on your puffy clit, mewing out loud at the vulgar noises she was creating.

“So sweet like this, hm? Think you can last more than... What was it? Eight seconds?”, Vanessa snickered, recalling the time you came so quickly underneath her that it was actually dismal. You blush at her mocking tone. She swirled her fingers around your opening, her mouth twitching at the way your pussy spasmed when she pumped them in. You lay down, whimpering as she picked up the pace. With no regard to how prepared you were, she shoved two more fingers in. Wailing, you move your hips with her, remembering that she wasn’t doing this for you; she was doing this for her. The thrusts turned into a heavy pound, your moans making it known that you couldn’t take it. Vanessa feasted her eyes on your body, licking her lips at the way your arousal pooled on the leather of the couch. As you were distracted with the overwhelming urge to come right there and then, she reached for the gun. Too zoned out to notice, you felt her lips attach to your neck. “Don’t make a mark”, you plead as best as you can. She ignores you, licking at your sweet spot before sinking her teeth into the flesh. Hissing, you pull away before stopping dead in your tracks.

Pressed against your stomach was Vanessa’s gun. Just a Glock 22, you knew that much, as it was the same one every cop used around here. Though, the coldness of the frame stunned you, both from the Glock and Vanessas stared. She stared you down as she removed her other hand from your pussy, smirking at the yelp it caused. Your fluids glistened on her hand in the warm light. You wearily watch her stroke her hand up and down the tip of the gun.

Once satisfied, she pointed the gun at your stomach, tilting her head at your small gasp of exhilaration and fear. “I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. Are you sure about this?”, she asked sweetly. Her gun was completely empty, for she always took the bullets out at the office after a shift. You didn’t know this, though. You would be relying completely on her skill and carefulness in handling a gun. Vanessa's stomach twisted deliciously at your utter dependence on her. Sucking a breath in, you nod.

She trailed the cool gun up your body, stopping short at your mouth. Pulling your messy hair back, your face red, she tapped the tip of your swollen lips. “Open up for me baby”, she husked. Opening your mouth, you stick your tongue out and swirl it around the muzzle, breasts rapidly rising and falling from the thrill of it all. She forces the frame in, resting her finger on the trigger. You groan at the taste of your own cum. “See? Look how good you can be”, Vanessa murmured, shifting her body as she felt her own pussy thud. Unable to go slowly anymore, she began to roughly thrust the gun in and out of your throat, abusing it as she would with her strap. You gag as it passes your comfort zone, rolling your eyes back when you feel her other hand slap your pussy once more. She stands up, laughing darkly to herself at your obedience. Your eyelashes flutter, saliva dribbling onto the glock. Holding onto your head, she takes out the gun and pulls you up to turn you around. Your hands, still cuffed, grab onto the top of the back pillows, your knees digging into the seat.

“You going to punish me, officer? I thought you said I was a good girl”, you purr. You felt Vanessa’s hands wrap around your front. Your neck was snapped back as she gripped you, sliding the gun through your folds. “If you think this is me punishing you, you better hope you don’t disobey me”, she taunted. She plunged the muzzle into your pussy, groaning at how easily it slipped in. Almost immediately, she rammed it at a swift rate, choking you when your sobs went too loud. Widening your eyes, you lift your bound hands to your neck and grab onto her hand to ease the grip. “Enough”, she spat, fucking you faster and squeezing your neck harder. Your hips were slamming between the cushions and Vanessa's thighs, arousal streaming down your body. With a muffled cry, you tightened your grip around her hand, signaling your need for release. By some sort of miracle, she went even faster. The combination of Vanessa's grunts, the pressure on your throat, and the gun that was currently abusing your overworked pussy made you scream out in pleasure.

“Uh uh. Tell me what you want”, Vanessa asked, refusing to accept your nonverbal request to cum.

Swallowing once, twice, you manage to simper out, “Pl-Please officer. Let me cum, please please please plea-”

In a flash, she released her grasp from your neck and shoved her fingers into your mouth, her pace in your pussy unchanging. You cum with a scream, your body jolting at the stimulation.

“There's a good girl”, she cooed, slowing her thrusts before removing the gun from your destroyed pussy. You flop your head backward onto her shoulder, staring at the ceiling as the world around you doubles. You felt Vanessa softly rub your thighs, whispering words of encouragement as you faded back to earth from your high.

“Always such a good girl when you play sweet”, she smiled as you turned your head to kiss her. Deepening the kiss, she placed the soaked gun down and wrapped her hands fully around you, inhaling your scent. She moved her lips to your jaw, where she peppered soft kisses as you giggled.

“Vanessa”

“Mh?”

“The handcuffs”

Vanessa laughed on your neck, pulling herself away from you.

“Stay there, I’ll be right back”

As she walked out of the living room and into the kitchen, you remembered the cookies that were still baking. “And check on the oven as well”, you shout out, collapsing onto the couch with a small grin.

[comatosebunny09]

mine | leon k.

genre(s): romance, modern au (?)

warning(s): possessive!leon, jealous!leon, oblivious!reader, short!reader, female!reader, suggestive, language

notes: influenced by a scene i read by an anonymous writer on ao3 (it’s a dead dove fic, but i still happily ate it). hope you enjoy!

music: yours - alina baraz

Firm believer that Leon gets high-key jealous when anyone flirts with you.

But, poor, poor baby—you’re so oblivious. So goddamn cute. Look at you, standing on tippy-toe, straining your fingers for your favorite box of cereal on the top shelf at the supermarket. Leon would smile if not for a shock of black disrupting the intimacy of the scene.

Some sleaze-ball sidles up beside you, a broad hand at the small of your back whilst the other reaches overhead to pluck said box from the shelf for you. That quiet little smile you give as thanks makes Leon squeeze the handle of the buggy until his knuckles pale. And, is he bristling?

The nerve of this guy, flaunting all 32 of his teeth in a sinister beam, towering over you whilst he seduces you with idle chatter.

You’re none the wiser of the man’s motives. Smiling and giggling, animatedly flailing your arms about. Figure he’s a kind stranger, helping another in need. But he keeps touching you—a chaste brush of fingers, stirring the fine hairs of your flesh to life. Inching closer, much to Leon’s chagrin. He can hear the gears in this guy’s head turning as he sketches a triangle between your pretty, full lips and the rise of your chest.

Leon blames himself for leaving you defenseless. Had stepped away earlier to grab some ice cream at your behest. He grinds his teeth, the tendons of his neck flexing. Isn’t really thinking as the wheels of the shopping cart screech, and Leon rushes to your aid, subconsciously grabbing for your arm, tucking you into his side.

“There you are, honey,” Leon rumbles against the question your gaze poses, his voice stippled with venom beneath the honey flow of it, an arm draped across your middle. He squeezes your side—a silent reminder that you are his—and fixes the stranger with a pointed look. And if looks could kill, Leon would’ve murdered this stranger a thousand times over.

“I’ve been looking all over for you. Whaddya say we get checked out, hmm?” Leon adds with a deceptively innocent smile, ocean blues gazing down at you. Doesn’t wait for your answer, instead ushering you between the hard press of his body and the cool steel of the cart, out of the aisle.

“Leon?” you query, realizing he—in fact—is not leading you to self-checkout. Instead, he shepherds you into a dark corner near the restrooms, your buggy abandoned, and your back pressed against the wall in the blind spot of the half-dome safety mirror.

You’ve barely any time to gather your wits before Leon’s mouth fastens to yours. A lip-lock as possessive as it is desperate, teeth gnashing and tongues entangling, and no matter how much you try, you just can’t breathe.

You take little sips of air in between. Instinctively bury your fingers in his hair, free hand roaming the expanse of his back, trying to feel as much rippling muscle as you can. Your leg languidly slides up his calf and thigh to wind about Leon’s hip, and his hand slinks beneath your doughy quad to keep you there. His thumb skates over the sensitive skin of your neck as if coaxing your mouth to open wider.

He parts from the hot suction of your lips after you mewl softly into his. Breaths merge into one whilst he meshes your foreheads together, painting a sluggish line between your eyes and parted lips.

“Mine,” he whispers through the haze. Through the flurry of your thoughts and the sway of your body. Gathers your cheek into his palm when he feels you slipping down the wall, a knee pressed between your thighs to keep you both afloat. Feels the heat radiating through the seam of your pants, and his chest swells with satisfaction. “Mine,” parroted again as if to solidify things.

You nod drunkenly, lost in the slothful stir of his eyes. He takes cruel satisfaction in teasing you like this a little longer. Taunts you with the promise of another kiss, his lips hovering over yours as you try for his bottom lip.

“Say it,” he rasps into the space between your mouths. The intimacy of it all weakens your knees. Makes your head spin, your gaze and mind filled only with Leon Leon Leon. He watches your mouth form around words, stroking your lips apart with the calluses of his thumb.

“Yours. Always.”

“Good, good girl,” Leon drawls, sending a bolt of white lightning straight to your apex. You don’t protest as he drags you from the alcove, a smirk dusting his lips. An unheard promise of things to come wafting in the lively air of the supermarket.

[cerezzzita]

🌙 ˖ . ᵎᵎ nightime mooncakes ✦ 2Bayonetta x Fem!Reader

⌕ synopsis: “There's nothing like spending the night with your beloved Umbra Witch.”

notes: finally took time to work on this wip, a little bit more and it would create spider webs. hey! told you all that I would feed the Bayo fandom, and here I am! I'm happy with how that oneshot resulted good, my writing seems more smooth here. yet ummm, the ending to me it's kinda... meh. hope y'all enjoy it because GODDAMNIT THIS FANDOM NEEDS MORE FOOD MORE FANFICS AM I RIGHT?? oh, how could I forget? this plot was born thanks to this writing prompts list! it's just so good, maybe we'll have more of these with an certain lil red devil hohoho

✦ read on ao3

♡ word count: 628

♡ tags: fem!reader, 2nd pov (you/yours), only the sweetest of the sweet with that adorable sexy witch <3

ⓘ gif's not mine !!

So strongly bluish were the silk sheets that they easily merged with the glimpse of the night sky highlighted by the open window, the light scent of rosemary spread in the room's air made everything even more relaxing and welcoming. A smiling sigh left your lips as your body settled over the silky fabric that enveloped the soft mattress, such contact made every muscle soften and forget for a few seconds any stress you had at that day. 

Not far away, a fragrance of diamond lilies possessed the surroundings, overcoming the scent of rosemary with a hint of freshness as company. Your permanent smile widened, and lying on your side you had a wryly angelic vision of your dear Cereza emerging from the bathroom of your shared room, her short ebony hair being dried gracefully by a terry towel, her body adorned in an amethyst satin nightgown subtly reaching her thighs and the beautiful face without her infamous glasses. She was quick to capture your watchful gaze, cocking corner by corner of her lips a smile of movement so solemnly akin to a cat's dexterity.

“What do you admire so much, my little mooncake?” Cereza articulated the query in her smooth voice and intoxicating accent.

You chuckled through your nose, lying on your stomach, your legs crossed in the air.

“You, obviously.” your answer was steeped in amusement. The smile of your beloved Umbra Witch softened, along with her captivating quartz gray eyes. “Is there another beauty in this room other than you, Cerezita?”

The well-known Bayonetta walked towards you with gentle, feline steps, her long plump legs moving with politeness; she leaned over you and placed both hands on either side of your arms, the veil of avidity dressing every feature of her alluring face.

“I'm looking at her right now,” in a honeyed whisper, Cereza nuzzled the tip of her nose with yours, laughing softly and lovingly. Goosebumps formed trails all over your body in the company of a warm feeling in your inner being.

Embarrassed and without retort, you discreetly pulled your face away from hers, your hands running affectionately like silent snakes from the arms to the shoulders of the Umbra Witch; the mingled scent of rosemary and diamond lilies there on her satiny skin.

Cereza's throat rumbled something like a luscious, delectable purr, her slender body slowly snuggling up to yours. Within seconds, you were both entwined on the azure sheets, laying your head on the witch's ample breasts and circling your arms around her curvy waist. In return, Cereza looped her leg through yours and hugged your torso; breathing in the sweet smell of your hair, occasionally peppering your forehead with butterfly-light kisses.

“Hm…” you did, murmuring against her skin. “I wanna be big spoon this time.”

“But you're tiny,” she couldn't help the short laugh at the end of the sentence, her voice slightly muffled.

You lifted your head with your chin finding support on one of Cereza's soft breasts, your lips forming a ready pout.

“Just this once?”

The Umbra Witch's gray irises stared at your asking features. An ebony brow rising along the left corner of her rosy smile.

“That puppy dog ​​face of yours isn't going to work for me, mooncake,” Cereza pinched the bridge of your nose lightly between her fingers. You grumbled, smiling with warm cheeks.

Your face was guided by the witch's warm hand back to her bust, you closed your eyes and relaxed into the loving arms of your beloved one. For one last time that night, Cereza placed a permanent kiss on your forehead. The comfort of sleep lulled both of you, the most special memory before Morpheus relaxed your mind was a velvety whisper of "I love you" originated from your Cereza.

cerezzzita©, 2022 · all rights reserved ⓘ do not copy, edit, steal or claim as yours

[dexterkronos]

Slime Rancher x TMA?

Okay but seriously, imagine if Jon and Martin commit MAG 200 and just end up on Slime Rancher's Far Far Range. What then?

(Welcome to your lecture on why my abilities to cook have been restrained by divine ordainment [irl responsibilities])

How It Would Work

Mistaken Identity as their alt selves or assuming the lives of their alt selves as they have completely replaced them

They both have separate farms on the Far, Far Range on opposite ends, and don't know where the other exactly is (they both think they're on distant islands to each other lol).

Martin becomes very adept with Slime wrangling in particular, but still remains an effective slime rancher in the ways of taking care of them. He adopts a particular Tabby (unbeknownst to him an escapee from Jon's ranch) and calls it 'Merry', and Merry stays by his side at all times.

Jon is very particular about only owning docile slimes like Pinks, Tabbies and Puddles, with a lot of his slimes being mixes with Tabbies because cats. He makes a sole exception for ONE Crystal-Tabby that he calls 'Calcite', who becomes a bit of a ranch defender Largo. It is so picky about what it eats or absorbs that there is zero risk for him to become a Tarr.

Jmart end up finding each other when Jon goes chasing after a Tabby-Phosphor with Calcite in an attempt to get it somewhere dark before daylight. Both are overjoyed to see each other obviously and immediately work together.

They have a teleporter between their ranches and help each other out with random tasks. They obvs can't combine ranches now, but they do lots of sleepovers at each other's ranches lmao,

Jon ends up going into Slime Sciences because duh of course he would lmao. He's the reason both farms have cannons to repel Tarr slimes.

They get therapy before even so much as thinking about advancing their relationship further because holy hell these dudes need it. (Therapy is already in swing at the start btw, I'm not delaying their roads to mental stability)

Other Info below the keep reading tag so we don't flood your feed lolol.

Relationships with Canon Slime Rancher Characters

Martin is the one who usually deals with Slime Market stuff because people like BOb exist.

Martin befriends Thora easier than anyone else due to her kindly nature. Let's give the man a nice older lady figure in his life to be a mentor.

Jon become notably friendly with Viktor Humphries, and they collaborate often since Jon has Martin and his own interest in slime collection to help him.

Both find Mochi a bit like Melanie at first, but warm up to her when they start to learn more about her (both can relate to strained relationships w/parental figures, especially Martin).

Both find BOb complexing and typically try to keep conversations curt lol.

Obvs because I'm not replacing Beatrix, they do meet her and are pretty neutral to her. Nothing extraordinary and nothing unextraordinary since Beatrix is more a proxy for the player so I can't gauge much on how she'd be without our interference.

Ogden & Hobson are also a neutral relationship but that's just because I can't think on how either of them and Jmart would work lol.

Likely Queries

Fears When?: No Fears in the Slime Rancher universe because I say so. The Fears just don't have influence here anymore haha. That means Jonah Magnus stays deceased.

How is Jon not like, barely sane or whatever (referencing the 'how much of me is the Eye stuff')?: Well, they did merge/overwrite their Slime universe counterpart so like... e.

Does Jmart retain Fear powers?: No. Maybe. I'm not sure tbh I think if anything it'd be subtle things. EG: Jon being able to identify certain things changed in an area or have a better grip on understanding body language. EG2: Martin being less noticeable when he wants to be or just having a bit of cold resistance.

Why can't they move in together?: Because I doubt the 7Zee Corp would be able to find a buyer for either ranch too quickly, but I could be wrong. Idk I like the idea of them having space of their own separate from the other since those dudes need therapy and time to work on themselves.

Do they look like themselves or their alternates?: Alts with the exception of MAG 200 injuries. The Alts just look like their S1 selves lmao.

SlimeRancher!Sasha, SlimeRancher!Georgie & SlimeRancher!Tim? Yes. None would properly notice a difference in Jon because he's more just their Jon with some weird ass baggage attached. Martin would DEFINITELY be something they'd note as 'unusual' but ultimately set it down to 'omg he's matured so fast having to deal with Jon lolol'. Sasha and Tim would be fellow Ranchers on another area nearby and Georgie either stayed on Earth or is a Tarr Wrangler with SlRa!Melanie.

What about the other Magnus people? Not sure, defs think SlRa!Melanie would exist as a Tarr Wrangler w/Georgie. SlRa!Elias would likely be on Earth still and just living his Pre-Eye life lolol. Sl!Ra Gertrude should be a rancher elsewhere that's just died but other than that idk.

Do any other Slime Rancher alts get their other worlds memories? Maybe Georgie and Melanie but only via 'oh wow that was a funky dream haha' since they were in the Panopticon. Elias doesn't count towards this since there was no more Elias by the time of the series' beginning (source: MAG 193).

[ishanijasmin]

fashioning the self: a journey through wardrobe + identity

it’s a sunday afternoon in what i would safely call the early middle of summer. i shove a coat and a suit into a reusable grocery bag, and shuttle it through a heaving euston station. i have twenty minutes to wait for my train because its delayed, so i beeline to oliver bonas to see what’s happening in fashion today (it’s the same thing that’s been happening every time i visited my parents for the past three months. i don’t think i have once successfully bought something at oliver bonas, not for lack of wanting to, but i guess for lack of being able to justify spending £70 on a cardigan. there’s a watermelon-shaped wallet on sale that has me like, surely you wouldn’t be so crass as to make a palestine emoji-themed wallet, but you can never tell with capitalism.) this morning i checked my facebook for the first time in a month and realised my profile picture is from my wedding, which was nearly two years ago. and that led to me going through my profile pictures and cringing at my teenage self, but not changing it because summoning the emotional energy to go through my photos and potentially upload something would be saying that i still care about facebook and i don’t know if i want to do myself like that.

i don’t know if it’s the dopamine window shopping trip, the woman next to me whose sparkly outfit i compliment, the hate scroll, the empty seat at the euston station piano that i half-contemplate filling, or the fact that i feel increasingly unable to represent myself the way i want to in my own body and closet that has me thinking about fashion today. in reality, i’m always half-thinking about it. it’s been something that governed me since i found myself part of the myfitnesspal generation aged 14.

i think sartorial representation is difficult for most folks - the idea that you’ll stumble upon the right combination of clothes and makeup and nail styling and hair and weight and muscle tone and race and gender and ability and you’ll be covetable and interesting and beloved, but like, in an easy and consumable way that raises no queries, and preferably in a way that can be completed in an afternoon. the makeover is a sexy, sexy idea, right? the makeover gives the impression that you can be done. nay, the movie itself gives the impression that you can be done, by the sheer requirement for it to have an ending. i used to feel like my wardrobe could be finished, and around the age of 27 i concluded that it can’t, because i am never finished; the thought of it is nerve wracking and exciting and numbing in equal measure. to never be finished is beautiful, but to still have things to accumulate (and thereby, to shed) is kind of sickening. 

the phases i’ve been going through have brought me to where i am, which is kind of loud but also uncertain. i’m wearing silk sweatpants my tailor and friend, kelsang, made for me on commission. these are my latest and greatest attempt to merge my style and my heritage - a mashed up inside joke nod to me spending a quarter of my life in the gym with material i could literally never wear there. and they look good, but i don’t know if they look good on me. last year i opted to get myself a name necklace, inspired by sex and the city’s carrie - but i couldn’t bear to get one in english, so i got one in hindi despite the fact i deliberately skipped learning the alphabet in learning the language. where i am right now has me feeling phony - it really highlights the in-betweenness of my existence, in a way that normcore or only wearing black didn’t really tap into because the only wrong way to go monochrome is not to do it. it also has me feeling boring. i don’t know how to put things together anymore, i don’t feel like i have the right shoes for my outfits, and it feels like i’m leaving the house in a turtleneck and jeans 70% of the time.

this isn’t helped by the suit in my tesco bag being a peacock blue tailored commission from around 3 years ago, that’s seen me through a bunch of stage shows and some particularly extravagant days out. me retiring it to my parents’ house means accepting that this isn’t me right now - i’m not the person wearing a turquoise iridescent suit out and about, just maybe to a wedding once every 3 years. i don’t know who that makes me now. the pieces we abandon, temporarily or forever, the ones that we acquired that don’t fit who we are now or the person we thought we could become—these are all goodbyes, not just to the apparel, but to the person that was or could have been.

yesterday i went to a party dressed as shania twain from man! i feel like a woman, and i put on eye makeup for the first time since my wedding and felt uncomfortable with myself, caricaturesque, because more so than ever, i don’t really feel like a woman. yes, i am growing into my body in a lot of ways, getting stronger slowly, but i found myself on the tube wanting to say, ‘don’t worry! i don’t do this all the time.’ do what—wear poorly applied eyeliner? it’s london and literally no one cares how well your makeup is applied because you can bet they’ve know someone who can do a full face on the central line and compared to that incredible subset of people, we are all bronze medalists in the femme olympics.

all this discomfort and, and every one of us just a ball of neurons in a flesh vehicle. i am ever moving and changing, whatever that looks and feels like: all black or in wild technicolour, long hair or short or shorn or shaven, suit or sari or sundress or sweatpants, showing up. showing up and calling my dad to tell him i’m late and i love him, always steadily coming to terms with my imperfections. leaving my clothes in the liminal storage space of my parents’ garage because i myself stand perpetually in the liminal space between my parents’ house and my own, between who they made me and who i am making myself. to be done is be perfect is to be finished, and when i am finished i will be dust, and there’s some sort of deep relief somewhere in knowing that.

[sgtbradfords]

Honey Take My Hand

Just a little drabble I wrote after the finale and finally finished. This is set in between the drive from hospital and them arriving at Lucy's apartment. Enjoy! :)

The streets of Los Angeles were relatively calm for three o'clock in the morning. Intermittently, did the passing of headlights and streetlights illuminated the cab of the truck as they grew near of Lucy's apartment.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Lucy's voice broke through the sound of the truck tires as they rolled across the cooling Los Angeles asphalt.

Her query was soft, hesitant even, as it was spoken into the universe. The thought had been lingering in the back of her mind since the moment they had been awoken hours ago, only now, there were a dozen or so unanswered questions that went along with it.

"Thorsen's tough." Tim's voice was gruff as he checked his mirrors, signaling and merging left.

"That's not what I asked."

The breath he released was deep, the weight on his chest only easing slightly as he glanced towards the passenger seat.

"I don't know."

There was a part of Tim that believed the junior officer would pull through, but life had long since taught him to never be that optimistic. He'd been witness to too many casualties and had pulled both his military and law enforcement Class A's out of the dry cleaning bag one too many times to believe otherwise.

"We don't know anything at this point."

"What if Nolan was right?" The silence following her question was almost deafening. "What if one of us is next?"

"That's not going to happen."

They both knew his statement was a bold-faced lie. It was obvious that Aaron and Celina had been targeted, but they have yet to find any evidence to suggest that one of them could be next on the assailants list. Though that didn't mean that the possibility had vanished, if anything, the likelihood had only heightened.

Reaching across the center console, Tim pulled Lucy's hand away from where it rested in her lap, providing them with the only semblance of comfort he could at the moment. Her palm was warm in his own as he gave the limb a gentle squeeze.

Though they had been given explicit instructions by Sergeant Grey to garner some shut-eye at home, sleep was the last thing on their minds as they held one another close for the rest of the night.

[iknowshocker]

you’re querying a bonkai inspired book? AHHH i hope it finds an agent and gets published because ive been looking for their dynamic in trad pubbed work + other media. hmm basic question but what was it about the ship that made you want to write original work inspired by it?

hii!! yes, it's called The Forgotten Legacy (or maybe The Unwanted Heir, that's TBD lol). I'm pitching it as a Witch-coded Bridgerton inspired 8 book series (Witcherton, if you will), and I'm so unbelievably obsessed. I've had such a fun time injecting it with true to life witch lore and specifics on covens/pantheons/and practices across the globe.

Each book will focus on one of the Attwood siblings - starting with a childhood friends to rivals to lovers new adult story.

I run a yt channel where I recap fantasy media and the stars aligned for me creatively this time when I reached tvd s6. I had just finished a project and was ready for something new, and Kai is like the closest thing I have to a muse. He sneaks his way into all the MMC's I write, but this time I just went all in.

I've always been drawn to the secrets of the gemini coven/the flashbacks from their childhood we don't get to see. So I decided to build my own magical family/world where I could figure all of those things out, add to them, and do what I wanted with the all the intersecting arcs.

The biggest thing I changed is that only the dad is cruel, so my MMC grows up with a mom/siblings/and specifically a twin that truly love him. The family is still majorly screwed up, don't get me wrong, but they have this drive to take care of each other that makes my heart ache. I liiiiive for sibling angst, so figuring out the individual dynamics between the siblings has been ridiculously fun. Close sibling friendships might be my true weakness ?? so it was really important to me to develop that relationship between my MMC/his twin sister and explore what it looks like for them to go into my version of the merge loving each other the entire time.

imo if you boil Kai down to one core emotion its Desperate with an underscore of Rage, and my MMC is Desperate with an underscore of Sorrow. He's living with the knowledge that he could single handedly destroy his entire family, or save everyone with his death at his sister's hands. He gives up basically everything to be a good big brother and protect them, sacrificing his own happiness in the process. (don't worry tho he still has the inherent darkness, sarcasm/the wit we all know and love - he's an emotional mess and i adore him!!)

As for why I find Bonkai inspiring, again I think it's all the possibilities of the ship itself. I was so excited for Bonnie to have someone who was 100% obsessed with her, and I think if given the chance she would have been that person for Kai, too. He's never had someone love him/protect him, and if they'd been a couple I think Bonnie 100% would have stood between him and the rest of the geminis.

I wanted to finally see a badass (mostly healthy) witch couple, and bonkai would have just ?? decimated everyone else on the board. So with my writing I explored the dynamics of them being willing to do anything to keep each other safe/plus the complexities of their individual power/what it would be like if they could work together.

I focused a lot on the opposing personalities/undeniable understanding that bonkai has. So they still fight but there's that element of ...uh, do you guys need a room or ?? They remind me of magnets - you can never tell if they're going to make out or try to kill each other or both. I added the elements of a childhood friendship between my FMC and the twins, so there's some fun friendship dynamics there, too.

thank you so much for asking, anon! I hope I answered this okay, lol. I have so many thoughts bouncing around about the series as a whole it's hard to condense them.

xx

[cinnamokittykat]

So I feel as if I should preface that basically any story I write will either be chubby oc or chubby reader. Chubby, midsize, thick, whatever you want to call it. This doesn't mean you can't read and appreciate my stories if you're not that, but please do not come on my blog and expect anything else. Anyways, enjoy pt. 3!

Inspired by @puff0o0 's artwork!

Your alarm blares next to you, signaling the start of the new day. You sit up and stretch, your shoulders giving a satisfying pop!

The outside temperature was just perfect for the mid-length plaid skirt and white sweater you picked, accompanied by your gray thigh highs that just squished your plush thighs a little.

You check yourself one last time in the mirror after applying your lip gloss, turning around to pop your butt out a little to admire your figure. A smile appears on your face. Despite your schedule problem, today is going to go great because you're just so cute :3.

A few minutes after you get to the bus stop, the long yellow vehicle pulls up to the curb and the doors screech open. You step on and make your way to the back, where there are hopefully no underclassmen to bother you. The sun is just coming up as the bus starts moving, and you take a sip of your water.

Unfortunately, your bus ride was full of screeching freshmen and thus annoyed upperclassmen who all moved further back to where you were, meaning you were rather claustrophobic the whole ride. But no matter, you were at school now. You step into the all-important senior hallway and find your homeroom. Hm, seems like I'm early...

You sit down at an empty desk, not particularly caring where because your friends weren't going to be there anyways. Some other students started to trickle in as the minutes went by. A group of girls who also seemed to enjoy pink like you did, a pair of jock-ish looking boys, a girl with pretty ruby red hair, and a larger, louder group of boys that made you roll your eyes.

The teacher was a younger, mousy woman with brown hair and round glasses. She sat at her desk, reading a book and occasionally glancing at the door. Eventually the bell rang and she got up to close the door, closed the door, and stood in front of the whiteboard to give the usual first day of school spiel.

She didn't get very far before being interrupted by the sound of someone running in combat boots outside her door, and a very polite knock. Rolling her eyes, she opened the door, and in stepped König, wearing plaid pajama pants and a black bland t-shirt. His hair was in his face somehow, despite it clearly being hastily tied back.

"What's up, Mrs-" He started.

"Find a seat, young man!" The teacher quickly interrupted, resulting in some students snickering as König nervously looked around for an empty seat.

How does he survive in life... You think to yourself as you put up your hand to offer the seat next to you. He quickly rushes over to you, almost tripping over someone's backpack, earning another set of giggles from students in the class. He takes his seat, muttering something in German as the teacher starts up her lecture again.

"Hello again." König whispered to you.

"Hey, didn't know you went to the same school as me, weird how I haven't seen you around-"

"And as some of you may know, Washington High recently closed and merged with the student body of this school." The teacher announced exasperatedly at the front of the class.

It made sense now, as to why you were separated from people you knew and why you saw so many new faces that morning.

"You're from that other school, aren't you?" You breathed.

"Mhm."

"That makes sense."

The brown-haired woman at the front began handing out some papers to the class. You internally groaned as you received yours, realizing it was a "Get to know them" bingo activity. König seemed to have the same grievances, rolling his eyes and putting his cheek in his palm.

"Uhhhh, lived in a different state before coming here...?" You queried, looking at him.

"Oh, how could you guess? Does an entire different fucking country count?" He laughed.

"Well, I think it would be close enough. Germany?"

"Austria. Moved in middle school because parents and my dad's job."

"I see."

"Favorite color is not on the rainbow, hmmmm."

He looks you up and down.

"Couldn't guess, I think you like green."

"Mhm." You reply as while signing one of his squares.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

As the day went on, you determined that you shared multiple classes with the tree-sized boy. You even almost shared lunch together before his band friends yanked him to their table.

You ended up sitting with that group of girls from earlier, and getting along just fine. They were similar to you, even if they seemed to be a bit more of popular crowd.

You went straight home after school, and after changing out of your clothes you fell asleep soon after you hit the bed.

[i-love-jay-walker]

Agent Walker Piece

The tapping of the well-used keyboard echoed around in Jay’s head, bouncing around in what felt like a completely empty space. The new hire typed something up in the document, but Jay couldn’t be bothered to really check it through. The kid probably knew what he was doing. And if not, he would just make it Prentis’ problem. This was a complete waste of his far too precious time. “Like that, sir?” The young worker queried as he looked up from his dusty computer, fingers still lingering on the keys. His brown eyes were far too bright and joyful for someone in the Administration, filling his superior with almost a feeling of unease. Some people are just too joyous in this world. “Huh?” Jay blinked before his eyes focused back on the screen in front of them, boredom immediately washing over him as his eyes glazed over again. It was probably right. “Oh, uh, yeah. Like that.” “Okay. So then I just change that to Stockroom A? Or is it that thing where it has to go to the Archive System?” “Archive System, Collin. It’s not in Overflow, so it’s an Archive.” The brunette let out a sigh as he pinched his nose, eyes squeezing closed as the clacking of the keyboard began again. So. Maybe it wasn’t right. Was there really not a single competent worker in his department? “So… That would be Personal Belongings, right?” Collin mumbled as he typed away, not waiting for his superior's response, who frankly, wasn’t really listening either way. “And we sent them to the Wyldness. So that would be-” The blonde peered onto a piece of paper, filled with scribbles and notes of different codes and notes. “Uh, AS-F6-1648-5I, sir?” “Is everything a question with you?” Jay mumbled as he glanced over the document, his eyes quickly gliding over the words. Yup, those were definitely words. Maybe the right ones too. “Yes, that’s correct. Are we done?” “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” “You better be, I have more important ga-, uh, work to do.” The brunette coughed awkwardly before he hurried off, narrowly avoiding multiple questions thrown his way by other incompetent workers. Ignoring any onlookers, Jay began to grumble mockingly to himself as he stomped his way to his office, weariness weighing heavily on his shoulders. “Why do I have to do everything around here. Just because I’m the damn boss. Sir, do this. Sir, do that. Do it yourself! Can’t you see I’m busy!” The former ninja angrily slammed the door shut behind him, ignoring the way his “Employee Of The Year” trophies wobbled on the shelf, threatening to fall to the already messy floor. With a groan he threw himself into his black office chair, cursing to himself as it began to swirl, before he firmly gripped his cluttered desk and pulled him and the chair closer. A sigh escaped his tightly pulled lips as he allowed himself to sink into the chair, running a hand over his irate expression, beginning to relax his narrowed brow and unclench his teeth. For a short while, Jay just sat there in complete silence, head resting against his palm as he attempted to calm himself down. Some days the workers just seemed extra incompetent and today was one of those days. He needed a break. Maybe a vacation. But the Administration didn’t allow either. So there he was, stuck in just about the worst job in all of the merged realms. When he finally stretched out his weary arm, reaching for his trusty controller, his fingers gracing the cheap, grey plastic and- DING. The damned intercom. “AGENT JAY WALKER, YOU ARE BEING SUMMONED TO BOARDROOM 38B POST HASTE. MAKE YOUR WAY THERE IMMEDIATELY.”. Jay didn’t even know his controller could shatter into that many pieces when thrown against a wall.

[jonahmagnus-research]

rate the kisses from your friends too

Well, in the case of Jonathan... he's a lot more forceful than he used to be, I suppose. The Jonathan I recall was always very hesitant, and it did generally fall to me to initiate and to take the lead, which, to be clear, I never objected to. But Jonathan now is certainly more aggressive in his kisses (though, ah, based on what I overheard of him and Elias, he is much softer on me, I'm almost jealous) as well as more prone to starting and to following through. Definitely very enjoyable, and I have absolutely no complaints about his increased confidence—I very much like letting him take control, in both this and... well.

Barnabas is... much softer. Almost reverent, with every little kiss between those that are longer and more intimate, which is frankly utterly baffling to me, because I... don't know that I'm worthy of it. Still, regardless of if I deserve it, it is very pleasant to be held (as close as possible, sometimes it seems like he's trying to merge us into one being, hah) and to hear his little noises as our lips meet. He's... very expressive. There's not been any particular change in this matter to note with him, which I'm glad of.

I couldn't pick a favourite, though. That would be unfair to both of them, even if I could. It is, if I may be candid, impossible to quantify my adoration for kissing either of them.

I hope this answers your query?