#THAT is as far as I know freakishly true

[zeemczed]

This is why the Bunnies and Burrows RPG (1976), as a modern rabbit simulation, was the first RPG to include a detailed martial arts system. The designers figured if you wanted to play an Iron Age bunny you could just play DnD.

[kissitbttr]

a very tired miguel who gets home from work and gets babied by his woman

-

It's close to 9pm as you're lying on your bed. keeping your focus on the book you're reading, one that you failed to keep as a part of your routine due to your busy schedule with work. being a fashion designer has it's perks but it also has its dark sides too. especially when it comes to dealing with snobby ass clients

as you are about to flip to another page, you hear the front door opened. keys rattling against the ceramic bowl with a loud sigh follows after. a soft smile appears on your face soon as you realize who it is

“miguel? Is that you?” you softly call out your husband’s name while putting the book down.

"si, mi amor" he appears shortly by the doorway. your tall and handsome fiancee adorned in an unbuttoned white shirt that showcase a bit of his chest and paired with black trousers. a simple work attire but never fail to make your knees wobble. the sight could put any Greek Gods known to a man to shame.

your heart breaks a little seeing how tired he looks. his eye-bags are coming off too strong. a constant reminder on how he has been working himself far too hard despite you telling him to take it easy. but that's just how he is, stubborn.

"how's work my love?" you ask, watching him undress himself, revealing his exposed toned chest before putting the clothes away with the rest of his dirty ones in the bathroom. "I take it, it wasn't a good day?"

"you could say that" he replies tiredly, grabbing a pair of sweatpants off the chair and slipping it on. "trying to get ahold with the new recruits is a fucking job, Peter's been getting on my nerves and I'm working on advancing the technology we have right now in order for it to be easier to identify every single anomaly's DNA we've come across to. But the amount of hypotheses and research I've done are nowhere near close to how I want them to be."

"i would ask Tony Stark for help but que cabron esta muerto" he breathes out a sigh, pinching the thick skin between his brows. "I'm drained, mi amor... i can't fucking do this shit everytime--"

"no hey.. stop" you shake your head, hate having to see your man fronting a distressed look in his face. “come here, Miggy” you pout at him patting your chest for him to lay his head,

he sighs heavily. plopping into the bed and carefully lays himself on top of you. pounding head finding comfort in the warmth of your chest, snaking his big arms around your waist.

you put your arms around him, locking him tightly as your soft lips kiss his forehead making him purr.

“my pretty baby. exhausted aren't you? hm?” you ask in a cooing tone. he hums -- which sounded like a growl to you-- with a nod before nuzzling himself closer. “oh my poor poor baby... my handsome man. always working himself to the bone” another kiss on the forehead

“come up a little closer, hm?” you ask as he barely shifts his body. too lazy and far too comfortable in your arms like this for him to move.

you run your fingers through his soft hair, moving a piece that’s covering his forehead. looking down to see him close his eyes, yet not sleeping.

it’s so funny to see how this freakishly large- broad man who always seems to bring a cold presence that scares everyone off at work—which is technically true— then turns into a huge softie and a love puddle for you in a split seconds.

it’s truly a privilege that you’re the only one who gets to see and feel this

“look how cute you are, baby… do you know how cute you are, hm?” you coo at him, lips kissing his nose and the sharpness of his cheekbone. trying your best to console him in hopes of washing his stress away.

he lightly shakes his head. “no” a curt reply rolls of his mouth, drawing your body closer to him if that's even possible.

you pretend to gasp dramatically at his answer. fingers still stroking his hair lightly. “you don’t?! oh no! we have to fix that! you’re the cutest *kiss* most handsome *kiss* hardworking *kiss* man I’ve ever known” showering him with compliments in between kisses. he breathes out a small chuckle that muffles against your chest.

it’s obvious that miguel rarely gets treatments like this, he’s no one to shy from things but you're his only exception. the only person who truly can get him blush like a little kid when he's shown the slightest bit of affection.

“who’s baby are you hm? are you my baby?” a smile graces your lips as your eyes casting down to his pretty features.

“me. I’m your baby” he mumbles, tightening his grip around you. "always be your baby"

-

inspired by @webslingingslasher their frat!peter work yall is making me [REDACTED] please go take a look!!

[specialgradefckr]

Heatwave: Day 6

tw: explicit content. 9k+ words. Satoru/Reader. female!omega!reader, alpha!gojo. mutual pining, light angst, YEARNING, so much yearning, PIV, heat/rut sex, minor breeding kink, choking, reader and gojo are switches, gojo is kind of a masochist. intense bickering. you and gojo are both pathetically whipped and in love, and i do mean pathetic

Prompt: Mating cycles are as violent as they are horny, intent to kill is high.

It took some convincing to get you a position as a teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High School – plenty of traditional fools in charge who thought omegas were better as childbearers than sorcerers.

But you got there. After ten years teaching in public schools, teaching at Tokyo Jujutsu High was what you'd always wanted: small classes with dedicated students who you could form real bonds with.

As a sorcerer, you had the potential to become a special grade – but your true passion was teaching, and it was a far better use of your talents to help the newest sorcerers improve.

Other teachers weren’t quite as gifted in the art of passing on knowledge. Like the special grade sorcerer no one ever shut up about, Satoru Gojo.

He was seven years younger than you – practically a student himself. But somehow, here he was, a teacher alongside you. Nepotism, maybe, combined with how obviously alpha he was – freakishly tall, well-built, and unnervingly confident, used to getting his way.

You’re not certain of his credentials as a teacher. If he has any at all.

If you were forced to guess, you’d assume Gojo had at least a PhD in pissing you the fuck off.

“Awh, c’mon now,” He’d snickered at your implication. “Like it’s hard?”

You could kill him. Actually, cross that out – you will kill him, just as soon as you’re finished riding his stupid big, fat knot to absolute oblivion.

Alphas, for all their pride, are even dumber and hornier than omegas in heat once their rut kicks into high gear and they lock their knot into someone.

You’ll choke him out then, you plan – if that doesn’t just make him roll all six eyes in exaggerated pleasure.

Gojo’s just that kind of complete and utter brat. Even if he is an alpha.

Constantly stalking you from behind, ready to throw his arms around your shoulders in some lazy half-embrace. Lording his stupid height over you, his seemingly endless youthful energy.

“Hey~” He’d drawl, leaning into you, knowing exactly how much the action exposed his scent, “How’s it going with the students? Teach ‘em any new tricks?”

You weren’t some early-twenties dewy-eyed omega; his scent didn’t have any more effect on you than a nice cologne would have. “Yes, I think today went well. They’re bright kids, I’m proud of them.”

“Oho! We should celebrate your success!” Not pleased with your response, he’d squeezed your shoulders close, enough that you couldn’t walk away. “Drinks on me! Let’s head out~”

“Hitting on older women?” You’d returned, shrugging him off so you could walk away, “What, have you successfully repulsed every potential mate of your own age group? Quite a feat, even for you, Gojo.”

“Awh, don’t be like that. I’m just trying to show my support! I know ladies your age tend to get a lot of flak these days, especially from the higher-ups…”

It had been a pretty low blow from him, considering how much he disliked the higher-ups and tradition as a whole. Looking back, that was probably him getting desperate for some kind of reaction.

Like a fool, you’d given it to him.

Spinning, whipping around to tuck your finger beneath his chin, just tickling at his neck, inches from his scent glands.

“Ladies my age don’t go for boys like you, Satoru-kun,” you purr, snatching his chin and pulling his pretty face closer to yours, “And I’ll have you know, I have no interest one-night stands.”

He grins that awful, gorgeous grin with those pretty sparkling eyes. “Now when did I say I wanted anything like that? You’ve got a dirty mind there. I just wanted to get drinks.”

“When did I say you did?” You hold his gaze like you would the leash of a particularly disobedient dog. “I was just letting you know. But since you just want to get some celebratory drinks, I’ll ask Shoko and Nanami to come along.”

Heh. Transparent disappointment flashes across his face, like he’s bitten into a lemon, but he’s quick to brighten up.

“My mistake, I got a little too excited~” He follows alongside you with his stupidly long stride, hands in his pockets, “I was just soooo~ happy to hear you don’t do one-night stands. I’d get super jealous!”

This he says, right after taunting you for suggesting he wanted one? What a little shit.

“Do you also recall the part where I said I wasn’t interested in little boys?” You mutter, texting Shoko and Nanami about the meetup.

You can still feel his presence behind you. Pheromones drifting through your awareness. Gojo’s got such a weird scent for an alpha. Artificial and sour and sweet. Blue raspberry. Electric, just a whiff of it tingles. You lick your lips.

“Yeah, I heard you. Good to know my darling kohai Nanami is safe from your clutches~” He sings.

Fucking insufferable.

-

The thing about alphas was that they got aggressive when their ruts came around.

From experience you’d known his limitless could be turned on and off at will, and he could allow his scent to drift through it.

Not only was Gojo nearing his rut, he wanted you to know that he was nearing his rut. The air is oozing with his stinging, cloying scent that makes your mouth water. You have to swallow your spit a few times.

So when Gojo insisted that you spar with him, you just knew it was going to fucking suck.

He was going to use it to force unnecessary contact, shove his scent in your face, taunt and tease you while he physically prevented you from leaving.

Then, the million dollar question. Why the fuck did you ever agree to it?

Deep down, you tell yourself it’s to shut his stupid ass up. Because it’ll make for good practice, and that’s not even a lie. Or even just because he’s got a pretty face, and you want eye candy.

You tell yourself it has nothing to do with the heat you know you’re just on the verge of.

Nothing to do with the rut that has him smelling absolutely delectable.

The adrenaline that bursts through your veins as he races towards you is purely from the thrill of combat.

The exhilaration of watching his strike swing through empty air, the slight shock on his face; that’s because you’re proud of your skills.

You’re not panting, teeth bared in an awful grin, arms tightening back to grab him and hold him down, make him yours yours all yours – this is a combat stance.

Not that you wanted to fight him that badly in the first place. Feel his strikes against yours, touch that infinity for yourself. See what he’s offering, that he likes to throw it in your face so much.

It’s not any of that, and you whip out a denial for each thought as it rises like you dodge Gojo’s strikes with increasing desperation. Fast. Fast, so fast, like a blink. Here one moment, there the next.

Focus. On him. White hair, black tracksuit, that little flash of blue you’d see anywhere. You pin your senses on him, on the scent that dances in the air, tempting you. Put every fiber of your being into matching his strikes, which come faster, and faster, until eventually even you can’t dodge them.

White hair. Blue eyes. Pink lips. Pretty, pale face. Pressure down against you, breath, scent, hot in your face. Focus, focus.

Anything to take your attention from the way your thighs want to clench together when he pins you down, nose brushing against yours.

Close enough no infinity could stop you if you wanted to lean forward into the neck showing under his collar and bi-

“You goin’ easy on me?” He practically purrs in your ear. Infuriating.

So you let yourself purr back. Take in his pheromones for just a second, lean into it, relaxing underneath him as you let off an answering scent, laced with the arousal you’re already feeling. Tongue darting between your lips for a moment as you let your eyes linger on his pretty mouth, pretty face.

Gojo’s eyes dilate as your lashes flutter, tilting your lips to –

SLAM

“No,” You sing to his crumpled form, hunched over from the blow to his middle, “I think you’re easy, Gojo. Come back when you’re not a horny little beast about to rut.”

A breathy chuckle comes from him as he situates himself to sit back on his heels, catching his breath.

Unnerving. Everything about this bastard is unnerving. The way he looks up at you, face flushed, grinning with delight – you know for a fact your strike hit hard enough to bruise. Maybe he could heal it, but he was still winded from the impact. It had to hurt, still.

Instead, those too-blue eyes seem to glow at you.

“Easy, huh?” He says, and you pretend he said it to himself. “Actually, I’m pretty hard.”

(You try very hard to pretend you didn’t hear that. To pretend you couldn’t smell it the moment you struck him.)

He licks his lips, taking in a deep breath, like he caught the scent of something he can’t let escape him. Eyes staring after you.

You walk away, before he can catch on to how slick you’ve become, just with this little interaction. What are you, a teenager? Maybe you’re close to your heat, but not that close.

Gojo lets you walk.

You think he knows.

(He definitely knows.)

-

He loves to taunt you. Alphas love posturing, looking for fights, as soon as their ruts come around. But an omega nearing their heat would snap at anything that so much as breathed wrong. Ready to see everything as a threat, demanding and critical even of those closest to them.

Both secondary genders had… attitude problems during their mating cycles that led to them lashing out. But due to stereotypes, alphas were seen as being dominant and argumentative, whereas omegas were seen as…

“Awh, needy, are we? Must be your heat coming up, huh?”

“Still hitting on older women? Your rut must really have you acting like an animal. Why don’t you do us all a favor and find someone to fuck it out with?” God, just talking about it is fucking annoying.

“Not very mature of you to say, ma’am!” The look you gave him must have spoken volumes, because he immediately responded, “It’s okay, I know how it is. You don’t have to be so shy about admitting it! What omega wouldn’t want a strong, handsome alpha like me to take care of them~?”

“Kill yourself.”

Satoru Gojo had pried words from your mouth you would otherwise be horrified by. And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

The worst of it was he would try to pamper you, just like he claimed you must have needed.

And the worst of that part was that it fucking worked.

He knew all your favorite drinks, snacks, meals. Had things delivered to your desk when even his own moronic self could understand you did not want to see him – always with traces of his scent lingering on the gift.

Papers to grade? Coffee from your favorite café, just the way you liked it.

Indoor from a long training session? Something iced and fruity to sip on.

Back from a stressful mission? A dessert so delectable you double-check to see if Gojo hadn’t already taken a bite out of it himself.

“A little pick me up after all your hard work~ The students always talk about how much they love you. Trying to steal my thunder, huh? Good job, sensei!”

The words are irrationally pleasing to read. And he smells good, it always smells too fucking good, refreshing at the first hint and then invigorating the next. Sweet and sour, just like the bastard himself.

There’s little bits. A ribbon, a traditional little lunch wrapped in a handkerchief, one time he even just shamelessly sets his coat down next to a drink with another note.

“By the way, my favorite jacket got stained while getting you this. Since it’s your fault, you can dry clean it for me, right? Make sure to give it back, I’d miss it so much!”

Awful. Awful terrible man. Giving you every excuse in the book to hoard his scent and pretend you hadn’t. You could be throwing these away, for all he knows. Out of pure spite.

(He knows. He must know that you can’t throw them away, your instincts scream at you, your heat aches and burns. Each little article you get to squirrel away allows you another night of easier rest. He knows it. You know he does.)

It’s infuriating. It’s absolutely fucking infuriating because you know Gojo doesn’t mean it like that. He’s just using this to get to you. Doesn’t want anything more than to fuck the closest and most convenient hole because his rut is coming up. He isn’t pursuing a relationship with you, this isn’t courting, just teasing.

It’d amuse him, too, after. To tease you about it, probably try some weird shit in the classrooms or on missions – he’s got that air about him. Slutty. Down for anything.

It’s infuriating and it’s fucking hot. And devastating, because you meant it when you said you don’t really do one-night stands.

He’s just so unreasonably pretty that you’d thought about it when you met him. The attraction is there, on both ends, but the more you’ve gotten to know him the more certain you are that it’s a bad idea.

Gojo’s a menace already, and as fun as it was to taunt him, having sex with him would just give him more ammunition. He made everything weird.

All the teasing, the uncomfortable chemistry, the not-courting shit, and you’re in heat. Sure, you’d had casual sex before, but during your heat? Fuck that shit.

Because unfortunately, Gojo is right. You get needy.

Not because you’re an omega. It’s because you’re you.

When you spend your heat with a partner it’s like you can’t stop everything from spilling out.

The desire to know and be known in your entirety. To feel and touch and cherish every inch laid bare, to gift yourself like a sacrament to someone who you know will worship you –

See? Unbearably romantic. And you love it, you eat that shit up. It’s deep in you, a wanting you don’t even wish to deny.

The thought of waking up to an empty bed during your heat drove you mad with loathing and heartbreak. Seeing the person you’d allowed to have you in your heat touching someone else? You’d be out for blood.

Alphas get territorial. If an alpha sees someone with their partner, they’re liable to rip the interloper to shreds.

Omegas get possessive. An omega wouldn’t care about someone coveting what's theirs, but they’ll rip that partner to shreds if they suspect they have eyes for another.

It’s funny, how all that nurturing and devotion can turn so easily into equal parts cruelty and violence. To love deeply is to hate deeply, and adoration is so intrinsic to your being that you can’t help but fall hard whenever desire takes you.

You’re a needy little monster, craving love, gentleness, affection. You wouldn’t survive whatever he did after, you might not even survive baring yourself to him, letting the extent of your desire be known.

Gojo would rip your poor, tender, beating heart from your chest. Chew it up and spit it out like trash.

And he’s so, so pretty, and he smells so good, and you love the excitement of your back and forth – you adore him, this Satoru Gojo. You want him so bad you can taste it. But Gojo doesn’t feel it like you do, like a need deep in his bones that aches all the way to his dreams.

You’re seven years his senior, have no exceptional qualities, and he’s got all the options in the world. Gojo’s still so young. There’s no reason for him to want to be tied to you. If he fantasizes at all, it’s about fucking you, knotting you, not of your teeth on his neck or his own on yours.

And you shouldn’t even entertain the idea of him fantasizing about you. You shouldn’t entertain any of these thoughts, because for all the violence your love can inflict on him, Gojo is the one who would emerge unscathed. You’d be left in tatters, and he wouldn’t even have the decency not to step all over them.

You can’t sleep with him. You’ll die, you’ll surely die, it’ll absolutely feel like you’re dying to see that pretty face smile sarcastically, or sneer and turn away. You’ll awaken without his warmth beside you and it’ll feel like your heart is missing from your chest and you’ll have to be reminded of that every time you see him because you work with that fucking nuisance. At your job.

You can’t do it. You can’t. Off limits, no way.

But you’re (regrettably, unfortunately, miserably) needy when you’re in heat. And Gojo is a horny little beast in his rut.

And he knows, he knows he fucking knows. He’s there whenever you turn a corner, walk up to a vending machine, sit down to grade papers. He’s got that awful million watt smile that lights up his entire stupid pretty face when he flirts with you, trades barbs back and forth.

He’s touchy, too touchy, gets too close. Asks to spar with you again and again until you say yes. Leaves you more treats, more drinks, more little gifts the whole while.

Your hands get dry because your heat wakes you up in the middle of the night, you have to touch yourself constantly. Gojo brings you lotion that smells like raspberries (like him).

You’re not entirely sure he hasn’t fucked around and filled the bottle with lotion that’s also laced with his cum. You use it anyways. His reaction makes it obvious that he can tell you have, and he’s pleased by it.

You hate him. You hate him, and you want him. You want him so fucking bad.

You can’t do this. You can’t do it.

Gojo looks at you like he wants to eat you. Like he’s tracking every little twitch, every movement, like a predator and his prey. Like he’s waiting for you to bolt off so he can give chase.

You can’t do this.

You’re not fucking prey. You’ll bite him back, doesn’t this stupid man know?

And he spars with you again and you’re left breathless from dodging him –

(you refuse to be touched by someone who is himself untouchable)

And he smells so so so good up close when he finally tackles you, seizes you, locks your arms up from behind you –

(you love to be held, you dream of being held, in the depths of your heat it’s not being filled that comforts you it’s the thought of pressure like a vice grasping you so close, unwilling to let go)

And his face is so devastatingly beautiful up close, those terrible, magnificent eyes like a sea of stars, staring at you like he’s enraptured –

(god, he’s so pretty, just looking at him has a little dose of glee shooting through you)

And his lips taste as good as he smells –

(sweet and sour, can it really be that bad if the sting is all washed away with the tingle of sugary, electric tang on your tongue)

And he holds you so so tight so close so warm –

(you’re pulsing, aching, throbbing, and you’re so fucking tired of your own fingers and he’s grinding against you so good)

And then you’re in your room, at your door, inches away from your nest with all the shameful little bits and pieces of his scent you’ve stolen away.

(you can’t do this. this man will kill you. he will be the death of you.)

Teeth on your collarbone, huge hands clawing at your shirt, pulling it up. You look down at him, meet his fevered eyes and lust-filled gaze.

His breaths ghost over the skin he’s left wet with kisses and nips. Hungry, so hungry for you. So pretty. You grasp his pretty face with both hands and pull him up into a kiss that’s more teeth than lips.

(You’ll go out fighting.)

When his tongue darts into your mouth you nearly moan at the taste of him. Gojo groans, and he does it openly, hands wide over your ass and clenching at it. You close your teeth against his tongue, not hard, not biting. Just to feel it. Measuring the give.

Gojo nicks himself on your teeth to pull away, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Knew you wanted me.”  He pants, licking over your lips, “Wanted this. Could smell you.” Lick, lick. “Taste you.”

Fuck. His eyes are wild and eager and you can smell his arousal already dripping free from him. Slotting one of your legs between his lets you press up and confirm his hardness. He moans at it, purposefully loud.

Massive. He’s massive, hard, and aching for you, so much he nearly howls at the pressure. Clawing your clothes off of you. You’re no better, yanking off his jacket, tugging his shirt up – and he lets you – tossing them into your bed.

“Look at you,” Kiss, kiss, he steals the words between presses of his mouth on your skin, like he has to breathe you and not the air, “Look at that sweet little nest. Helped you with it, didn’t I? Aren’t I just the greatest alpha?”

It’s hard, so fucking hard, to ignore how delight laces through your chest at his words. This nest, this place where you’ve languished for too long already in your heat, now an alpha (your alpha) is here and happy to fill it up (fill you up), curl up in it with you.

“You’re talking too much,” is all you dare to let yourself voice.

You seize his pants and underwear by the waistband, dragging them down his hips. Gojo stumbles, undignified, towards you, but even then, he’s tall enough to press you to fall back into the strategic mess of blankets, pillows, and your hoarded pieces of his offerings.

He’s still grinning as he pins you down. Arms on either side of you. Tall, so tall, so much larger than you. Larger than life. Your beautiful, ferocious alpha, all hard and excited just for you.

“Too bad. I love talking.” Gojo’s eyes stay trained on yours as he mouths over a breast, sucking as much of it as he can into his mouth.

“No, really? Would never have guessed.” the grumble escapes you, and he giggles.

He watches you still, tense, and try not to lean into the sensation as he plays at your nipple with his tongue, teeth. Pulls away with a pop.

You hear him kicking off what remains of his clothes, but you can’t bring yourself to look down.

“I can smell your slick from here,” A hand tracing up the inside of your thigh, “Mouthwatering.”

So wet you can almost feel yourself gushing. His hands are inches away from it. Heavy, warm form bearing down on you as he moves to suck at your other breast. Teasing fingers where your leg joins to your body.

“Is that all your mouth’s good for?”

His laughter had been far too mocking to be endearing, just like his grip on your hips had been just a bit tighter than pleasant, his grin wide enough to be smug instead of sweet.

Wretched and traitorous, your heart lurches at his beautiful face, anyways.

“If you wanted me to show you,” Those blue, blue eyes never leave yours as he trails his face down your body, “You could’ve just asked, babe.”

Your hand finds its way into his hair, which is naturally as soft and pleasant to the touch as you’d dreamed it was. You clench tightly and he rumbles in approval.

“Like it rough, do you, omega?” His breathes, right over your drooling cunt. “Me, too.”

“You’d be so fucking hot,” You pant, “If you kept your damn mouth closed.”

When he laughs again, it feels a little better, but he’s always got to dig in. Pressing kisses to your clit that leave you fighting the urge to kick your legs.

“I’m always hot, baby,” God, it feels so sinful, so good, to have his exhalation ghosting over your slickness, “You’re just all antsy ‘cause of your heat. Let me make you cum, calm you down.”

This has the opposite effect of calming you down and he knew it would. Probably expected you to wrap your legs around his waist while he buried his face in your cunt, digging your heels hard into his sides, like spurs.

“Would be the first useful thing your mouth has done all year.” Gojo snickers against you and it’s annoying how good it feels.

And then he closes his lips around your clit, tongue tracing swiftly all over it, and you couldn’t stop squirming if you tried. Can’t stop the noises that come out of your mouth, spilling out, overflowing, like how the slick just pours from your clenching hole.

He fingers into you, two at once, and it’s embarrassing how little you feel it at all. Two, in and out, then a third, stretching inside you. Spreading them apart inside you. Making these awful wet noises – it doesn’t help that Gojo likes to smack his lips while he eats.

“Tasty. So wet. Did you stretch yourself for me?” He asks between laps at your clit, pressing himself closer to you while you whimper and teeter on the edge, “Got some knot toys to prep?”

“Fuck – Gojo!” Even when you’re trying to snap at him, he makes it fucking impossible, suckling at your clit before you can get the words out.

You cum with a light, airy cry. Short, shallow gasps as your other hand darts down to grasp his shoulder. Clinging.

“I will, I will,” Gojo takes a deep breath, over the wetness of you, making you shiver.

Eyes like blue flame look up at you. Sinful tongue hanging out of his mouth like a dog. Licking sticky lips. “Must’ve been hard, all that time you spent waiting. Don’t you worry, I’ve got a nice big knot ready just for you.”

And god, it’s fucking terrible, how you have to suppress a shiver of delight at his words, as he crawls up your body to be eye-level with you. His cock rubs along your sex, wetting itself so easily it should be embarrassing.

It is big. It’s so big and the knot swelling at the base of it is even better, thick and pulsing and throbbing.

Your stupid horny omega brain wails at the prospect of finally, finally being filled up by something hot and pulsing and living. Strong enough to hold you down and breed you. He’d give you the prettiest kids.

Oh god, oh fuck. Omega brain is seizing the steering wheel right now and you’re fucking terrified of where it’ll take you. You have no idea what you’re going to do when he knots you.

And he WILL fucking knot you if you have to mount and ride him yourself.

He’s grinning. Your instinct screams at you to bite. “I could smell it on you just now, you know. You want me to knot you soooo bad.”

You return his smile with bared teeth, “You want to knot me so bad, Gojo.” You’re still oversensitive when you grind your cunt against him but it’s worth it to see his stupid jaw drop open, “It makes you look fucking stupid.”

Pretty, pretty. He’s so pretty you could cry, and his cock is twitching against you, wet and burning and ready.

“Shut up,” Gojo breathes, close enough for you to smell his tingling scent on his breath, “And take it.”

A snarl builds in your throat, climbs on your lips – only to be knocked away thoroughly by the feeling of his fat head nudging, hot and swollen at your entrance. You’re so slick it feels almost gummy against you.

He drives himself in and you bite back a scream. Instead you let your hands claw down his back, and when they’re far enough down you just reach up to his shoulders again and dig your nails in harder.

The scrape at your fingertips, the way the smooth flesh of his back yields to yours – rough and savage enough to leave his eyes wide and gleaming.

His cock driving into you is like velvet, warm and wet and welcoming, filling an ache that makes you want to cry out.

There’s a stretch, because he’s big, of course he’s fucking huge but it’s the delicious type of stretch, a tight pinch that makes you shudder and clench and pull a moan or two out of him in return.

“See?” He nips at the underside of your jaw. Close, too close, inches away from your scenting glands, licking like he wants a taste, “Just needed some cock to calm you down. Poor – poor little omega, your heat must have been really bad, huh?”

You want to kill him. You want him to fill you up up UP more and more of his cock drives into you, it’s like it’s fucking endless, his knot urges forward at your entrance and the stretch –

“This – hhgh – coming from the beast in rut,” You snarl through strangled moans, “Who’s been throwing himself at me like an animal?”

Your hand in his hair trails down, over the back of his neck, and his whole body jerks at the touch. You’re no better, straining beneath him, talking out loud so you don’t lose your mind as his knot slides home.

“Did you think of me while you fucked your hand, Gojo?”  Dangerous territory. Dangerous thoughts. “Did you think about what I’d do to you? About me putting you on your ass while sparring because my scent turned you into a slut?”

He groans, long and laborious. You feel his knot lock in, his head thrown back (neck bared, pretty, pale, so empty and open) as he whines out his release.

It spurts inside you, hot and swelling and heady enough to bring you to a second release as his pelvis grinds against your clit.

“So what if I did?” There’s a challenge in his eyes, bright and sky blue and heart-rendingly beautiful in his blissed out state.

Something churns in your chest, something feral and wanting and you should know better but you can’t stop it now –

“Always think of me,” the demand leaves your lips before you can think of it, “You’ll always think of me when you touch yourself now, Gojo, you won’t be able to cum without it.” Before you know it, you’re purring, both from the afterglow and the words you’ve spoken with such misplaced confidence.

He thrusts lightly into you, a short useless movement which just makes you both more aware of his fat, swollen knot as it pumps his cum into you. Gojo purrs back at you, a warm rumble you can feel all throughout his form pressed against yours. His face against your chest, rubbing it – scenting you.

Your arms curl around him. Hold him close. “Never think of anyone else. Only me.”

The only response is louder purring. It’s painfully pleasant, comfortable, with the length of him pressed against you, his knot buried inside of you.

His eyes are half-lidded, dragging his parted lips over your skin. It’s too lazy and slow to be called a kiss, but the intimacy of It burns a trail across your skin. He licks at your neck in broad strokes and you mindlessly loll your head to the side, baring it for him.

Both of you content in the silence, sated by your climaxes. The first of many. A lull where you lie locked together so perfectly, enjoying the sinful trickles of his cum filling you up while his knot slowly deflates.

Naturally, Gojo can only let a good thing last so long.

“Never think of anyone else, huh?” His voice is unbearably smug, and smooth, and all things lovely. “Possessive and needy. What were you going to do if I hadn’t pounced on you?”

It takes you a moment to respond, disgruntled, “Next time you made an ass of yourself while sparring I would’ve just bitten you.”

A laugh; breathless and light. “I thought you didn’t like younger men?”

“A knot is a knot.” You clench around him a bit, just to drive your point home. It makes him spurt a little more into you, scalding hot. He hisses, face flushing.

He’s pretty like this. Then again, he’s always pretty.

“Yeah?” He leans in with glittering eyes, already recovered. “Bet you like my knot best. Bet you won’t want any other after this.”

You already don’t. You love the feel of him inside you, how he fits like a glove, how his knot fills you to bursting. It’s still inside you and you already want to feel it again. You already want him to be yours. All yours, only yours and yours forever.

But this is your asshole coworker who bickers with you, not your fucking boyfriend.

“I want another alpharight now,” You roll your eyes, like saying it would make it real, “A quieter one.”

“Heh.” His smile is as loud as his eyes. “No, you don’t. You wouldn’t let me so much as lick you if you weren’t already thirsting your brains out for me.”

God, are you that transparent? Or can he see through lies with the six eyes, too?

You push yourself upwards – not easy because Gojo’s laid his uselessly long torso against your chest – and the knot’s still mostly lodged in you but there’s enough give for you to push him back until you’re sitting on his lap.

Gojo is leaned against you, resting his body weight against you as he purrs like a careless, cuddly cat.

He doesn’t even flinch when you cup his face between your hands. Lazy, relaxed, content inside you.

“You have a lot of cheek for a brat who got hard after I knocked the wind out of him.” You tilt your head to the side. “Or maybe that’s what you’re hoping for on round two?”

And oh god. This guy can’t be for real. His knot has barely gone down enough to pull out and you feel him twitch inside you, hardening again. You pull him out with a twist of your hips and he actually whines.

He licks his lips. “What do you think?”

His cock flops against you again, hard, ready to go. You let out an incredulous laugh. “I called you a horny beast, I didn’t think you were actually some kind of – breeding whore.”

“Mmmh,” Large hands dart to hold your ass, pulling you closer, “Maybe I am. You’ll let me fuck you, though, so I must be doing something right.”

As dirty talk goes, you could do way better. But it looks like Gojo is just that easy – his scent deepens with excitement, electric on your tongue.

Mouthwatering. Stinging. It reaches deeper into you than you’d like, pulls out an answering tug of longing that spills over your lips before you can stop it.

Hands on his shoulders, over those pretty collarbones, shoving him back. It’s so easy; he falls back for you without resistance. Staring up at you through lowered lashes like an actual seductress.

Satoru Gojo is heartrendingly beautiful, above you or beneath you. It drives you mad.

“Tell me,” You want you want you want, “Tell me how badly you want to fuck me.” Tell me you want me. Tell me you love me. Tell me you’re mine and you’ll never be anyone else’s.

“You said it yourself,” Gojo breathes, “I’m a whore, yeah? A beast in rut, throwing myself at you.”

“Why me?” Tell me I’m the only one who could ever satisfy you. He might be a dumb horny whore of an alpha, but your omega brain is equally delirious for feeding into this delusion. Tell me you want me. Tell me you love me.

His smile is lazy, eyes glimmering, and you get a terrible intuition that he knows exactly what you’re asking, exactly what you want. And he’s not going to give it to you.

“Knew you could keep up.” He answers with a distinct ring of mockery. Fucking brat.

Wrong answer. Wrong. Answer.

Your hands jump to his throat. Squeezing instinctively. Like you can rip the words out of him, the voice that lights every fiber of your being on fire, in all the worst ways. And his neck feels so perfect under your hands. Like it was always meant to be there.

"Wanna bite?" He mouths, somehow smirking at you before his mouth drops into an "O" – you’re grinding against him, hard and careless of his overstimulation.

Those pretty blue irises shrink and dilate wide, shimmering with tears. His face is so pale, lashes such a pretty white that the red on his cheeks stands out all the more painfully. A moan of pleasure ripples under your fingertips, squandered in your grasp.

God, he really is a whore, isn’t he? So eager in front of you, dick out, lashes fluttering, throwing himself at you. Teasing you with his scent, his little gifts. Letting you see him like this. How could he let you see him like this, if he didn’t want to be yours?

Would he be so pathetic and needy for anyone? It sends rage through you, white-hot and yearning. All you can see is him, him, Gojo in all his debauched glory beneath you.

Ruin him. Ruin him for anyone else. Yours, yours, all yours. So much that he can never think of anyone else, like you can only think of him.

You squeeze harder, like you can pull his treacherous, perfect voice out if you can just press hard enough into his singing pulse. Close, close, so fucking close, the pull inside you draws you over his cock, up and down, rubbing against your throbbing clit.

His cock twitches in time with it as you grind away. Blood rushing in your ears, pounding. You’re close. He’s close. He’s going to cum. He’s going to cum outside of you.

Just as Gojo’s eyes squeeze shut, his cock jumping against you – you pull your cunt off, leaving no more stimulation. You don’t release your hold on his throat, hips guided purely by instinct, slotting him against your entrance.

“Don’t you dare,” You hiss, feeling his pulse flutter, “You don’t cum unless you’re inside me. Never.”

Eyes shooting wide to look up at you. His lips part, desperate, passionate, heavy with words that he doesn’t have the air for.

You don’t want to hear it. He’s said enough.

You ride him like you hate him - to be fair, you kind of do.

Slamming down on his dick, just short of his knot. Hunched over him so you can still choke him while you fuck him, see his stupid face contort in shock and bliss as his cock is suddenly enveloped.

His sweet-sour scent practically stings your tongue, heavy with arousal, with lust, with want –

He fills you up so fucking good, he’s infuriating, he’s huge, he’s perfect and why isn’t he yours? Everything inside you screams and all you know is the stretch in your core, the burning need.

So close so close you're almost THERE –

Panting, gasping, you bear yourself down on his knot with a wail, squeezing his neck like a stress toy. It makes him pulse and throb inside you.

Fuck fuck FUCK -

The STRETCH, it fucking burns, Gojo is writhing underneath you. It's like he's bigger than he was last time.

His hands aren’t at his throat but on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer, adding to all the weight that pulls you against him. Tight, hot, so, so fucking big.

“My knot,” You pant, half-feral with desire, “This is my fucking knot, Gojo, my dick, you don't put this in anyone else, do you hear me, ALPHA?"

There’s a rumble in his neck where he might be trying to answer you, but you ignore it in favor of bearing down on him. It's like all your breath leaves you in one big gasp, a whine escaping you as you finally pop the knot in.

You squeeze yourself, impossible, tight, feeling your whole cunt scream with the effort, the delicious stretch of a muscle pushed to its limit. You have him, you have him, you have him in you, all yours. Your core finally surges towards release at the feeling of being filled.

And then you look down at what you’ve captured, your alpha, teary-eyed, red-faced, eyes glazed over in bliss as his lips part to take a breath he can’t manage.

Cock burning inside you, hips bucking up, hands clutching you like a lifeline. Hands so uselessly large that his thumb can reach to roll over your clit.

All at once, you let go. Climax overwhelming you both, his first gasping breath painted with the sudden release.

You want to see his face while you do it, collapsing forward as your breath is stolen from you in waves of white-hot pleasure. Gojo lets out a high pitched noise that he probably shouldn’t be capable of, choking, crying.

“F-fuck,” He half-chokes, half-sobs, racing to clutch you to his chest.

You’ve never seen him so uncomposed, so helpless, your name on his lips, the six eyes blown wide and unseeing. Heat floods your insides as he releases, knot swelling impossibly larger. A squeak escapes you, and you press the side of your face into his toned chest as he holds you close.

You’re smaller than him – most people would be. It’s funny, feeling smaller in his arms. All the fight and fervor trickles away, slowly, like it’s making room for his cum.

Something terribly dark and feral inside you wants to rut against him and make him whimper more, now that he could hear it, but you don’t have the strength.

“Surprised you didn’t bite me,” He muses while he traces mindless patterns over your bare back.

“For what conceivable reason would I have bitten you during that?” His chest is warm, so warm. You’re not paying much attention to what you’re saying, just lazily snapping back at him for stating the obvious. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I literally choked you.”

“Hell yeah you did.” He rubs his cheek against your hair. “It was super hot. Do it again.”

Idiot. You try to ignore the hunger his words ignite inside you, the stupid glee you get from the thought that he likes it just as much as you do. “What, do you want me to bite you?”

“As hot as it would have been to see you take what you want,” God, his grin is just so annoying, and it makes your heart skip a beat, to see that fire in his eyes, “You’d probably feel all bad about it later or some crap. Like you trapped me or something. Which would be super hot, by the way. You have my permission to trap me at any time, especially if I’m sticking my dick in you.”

“Well, now I don’t want you at all,” You lie, blatantly, like a liar.

Satoru snickers, which really isn’t good for your heart. “What, because I’m such a kinky whore, you think I’ve been all used up already? Should I give myself some bruises and hickey sometime to really sell the fantasy?”

That gets an eye roll. “I didn’t degrade you enough while we were fucking, is that it? Had to pick up some slack yourself?”

“Heheh. You sure liked calling me a whore and a slut.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, “What can I say, I’m just that good a lay. Always give the lady what she wants.”

“Sure.” And yet you still don’t have what you want from him.

“You’re the only person I’ve fucked like this, you know.” He says, more softly than he should.

It’s just so unfair. How he makes your heart stumble. How his little admission sends a trill of hope through you.

“Fucked how? During your rut?” He didn’t seem like the type to grin and bear the suffering.

“You know,” He shuffles again, “Like this. For fun.”

“What, I’m the only person you’ve let call you a whore? Choke you? Be more specific, Gojo,” The name tastes bitter in your mouth, “All the other times you just had to lie back and think of England?”

“Well, you’re the first person who’s fucked me that also called me Gojo, for one.”

He really has to ruin everything. “Just shut up. Nothing you say makes me feel better.”

Arms wrap tighter around your waist. “I mean it, though. I was looking forward to this. I never look forward to it. Letting down my technique, fucking some omega until I knotted them.”

You want to bite him, take a chunk out. Pull his hair and rip some of it out of his stupid empty skull. “Gojo –”

“No, listen.” And that’s a tone you haven’t heard before – low, commanding, an alpha’s demand. He hadn’t spoken to you like that once.

“I used to hate it, dread it. The long wait for my knot to go down before I could finally just leave and put everything back up again. Being stuck with some stranger in such an intimate position, feeling them touch me, it was the worst. The absolute fucking worst.”

He nuzzles his head into your neck, like he’s basking in your scent. “This, though? This is the best. I want to do this for every rut, forever.”

Another skipped beat, and that’s it. Your foolish, graceless heart can only drag you through so much humiliation and pining before you rip it out and stomp on it yourself.

“So what?” You lower your voice in return, hard and cutting, “Who says I want to spend all your ruts with you, Gojo?”

“Thought you didn’t do one-night stands.” He smirks at you. You want to punch him.

“What did you think this was?” Did he think you were pining for a relationship while he was just fucking it out? Sure, you were pathetic enough to want it, but you weren’t pathetic enough to expect it. Not on your fucking life.

But then.

There’s the answer, the “A public service for needy omegas~” or some other witty retort. You can already hear his voice ringing in your ears, playful and taunting.

But the sound doesn’t come. Nothing comes at all. Complete silence.

Gojo’s lean, muscled form has stiffened, now rigid against you where it had been relaxed. You can feel his hesitance rippling through the air. His scent is more sour than sweet. Spoiled.

“I thought… you wanted me.” You’ve never heard him sound so uncertain, so afraid. You’ve never heard Gojo sound afraid, period. “I was courting you, and you accepted my gifts, so I – ”

“When were you courting me?” You snap, even though you make the connection instantly. He had given you gifts. He’d spend time with you, given you something with his scent. Paid attention to your needs.

“This whole time?” He sounds like he’s starting to panic, now, “What did you think was happening? We’ve been flirting literally since the day I met you! I might not be the most traditional guy, but I got the important parts down!”

It doesn’t sound real, for Gojo to be freaking out like this. He turns you around so you can see his blue eyes, wide and wild with frustration, “Why did you think I gave you things with my scent and spent every spare hour in close quarters with you?”

“Because they were always accompanied with snarky remarks? Because you taunt me at every opportunity?” You say it straight to his face. “We literally insult each other every time we meet.”

“You like it, you tease me back!” He grouses, “You’re super into that, you fucked me anyways!”

“Yeah. I thought that was all you wanted.” You swallow. “You’re supposed to ask someone to court them, Gojo.”

“Of course you wanted me to court you. You seduced me when I pinned you down and then knocked me on my ass!”

You’re upset with him and all, but he’s just got this infuriating ability to make you laugh no matter what. “Most people would take that as a no.”

He’s smiling back. Beaming. His scent is clean, like just hearing you laugh made it all better, “But your answer isn’t a no. You li~ke~ me.”

“Not so much right now.” You look away. “So, what? I’m just a fool for not knowing what you wanted, when you never even told me?”

“I thought it was obvious.” You can hear the frown in his voice. “You’re a pretty proud person. What did you think I was doing when I gave you all those gifts?”

“You literally told me I was being needy. I figured you were mocking me.”

“But then why did you accept them?” His tone, laced with something awful in his scent, brings your gaze back to his face.

He looks kind of… heartbroken.

You can’t look at him long. “Because… I am needy.”

His arms reach up from your waist, cradling your back, pulling you against him. Chin tucked where your shoulder meets your neck. Face buried in your scent glands, just where he’d put a bite. If he – if he wanted you.

“When you finally admitted it, I thought I’d feel glad.” He sounds like he’s complaining, but your neck is wet. “You just have to steal away all my victories, huh? Can’t even let me win this one.”

Why is he acting so pathetic, like a wounded puppy, when you’re the one who admitted to being down so bad you’d accept even mockery from the person you wanted to get with?

And then he sniffles, like some teenage girl who just got dumped. “I thought you knew I liked you. I thought we were having fun. Teasing each other.”

“It was fun, that’s why I did it. I just…” You swallow. “I didn’t think it would mean anything more for you. You know by now that I – I like you a lot. Way more than normal. There is nothing normal about how much I want you. I didn’t think you wanted me the same way.”

“That’s literally the worst thing I’ve ever heard. You didn’t know I wanted you back?” There’s more wetness on your neck, but this is warm. The familiar touch of his tongue dragging over your scent glands.

Gojo takes a shuddering breath, and it occurs to you that he must be taking in your scent. “How could you even think that?”

“Why are you so upset?” His whining brings you back to life, just a little. Enough to be angry. “For – for fuck’s sake already, Gojo. Say it in as many words. I told you, the whole reason I thought so was because you never told me what you meant outright.”

Another sniffle. “You’re so mean. You know what courting is. You just like bullying me.”

His sniveling revitalizes you further. It’s easier, knowing he can be pitiful for you, too. “Say it, Gojo, or you’ll be just another notch in my belt.”

“And call me Satoru! How are we supposed to date if you don’t even call me by name?!”

“We’re not dating. Say it, say it right now,” You’re getting sick of his crap, “Or I will rip your dick off.”

You can hear it, again. Is that a promise? Just wait until I’m hard to do it.

And you can see it, actually, how it physically pains him not to say it.

Gojo says your full name, out loud, and you’re helpless at the sound. “I have romantic feelings for you. I would like to court you with the intention of marriage. Mating. Whatever.”

He just can’t let you win one, can he? And yet, you’ve never heard a better sound. It feels like a massive burden has been lifted from your shoulders. Your chest.

“Two full sentences of formality,” You muse, “Impressive.”

“Right?” He preens, “Lots of things about me are impressive. You’ll see while we’re courting.”

“You never fail to impress me with how much of a dumbass you can be, Gojo.”

“Satoru. And that’s not a yes. Hurry up and say yes! I know you wanted to bite me back there, you’re totally crappy at hiding it.”

You sigh. “I did. But you didn’t want to bite me, did you?”

A pause. You’re suddenly uncomfortably aware of how close his face is to your neck.

“I always want to bite you. Ever since I met you. Smelled you.” His tongue runs along your throat, so hot it almost feels like it burns. “You can’t tell because you’ve never seen a version of me that doesn’t want to sink my teeth into your neck.”

You swallow, and he purrs, kissing over your pulse.

“It’s okay, though. I can be generous.” And his voice is back to being annoying again. “Even when you’re so demanding. I can only jerk off to you, I can only stick my dick in you – gosh, you said not to cum unless I was inside you, right? You really signed yourself up for – ”

“Oh, fuck off, Gojo – ” You interrupt yourself, “ – Satoru. Are you sure you want to… I mean. I’m older than you, you know? By a lot. I don’t have some kind of pedigree, and – well, I mean. You know.”

You flush despite yourself, “I’m… demanding, I guess. I like to bully you, if you want put it that way.” He laughs. “I’m sure you have better prospects.”  

“Yeah,” A hand reaches up to stroke your hair. He pulls you so your face is pressed into his chest, so you can hear him purr for you. Loudly, now. “That’s why I’m courting you, first. Until you’re sure you’re my best prospect. Then I’ll mark you. Then you can mark me, and not even feel a little bit bad about it, after.”

It’s scary, you think, as the darkness creeps into your vision – just how accurate his prediction of you was. “You don’t think I’m… too needy?”

“I love that you’re too needy.” A kiss to the top of your head, “You look at me like I’m the thing you want the most you want in the whole world. Makes me crazy, how much you want me. I want you to bite me. Eat me whole. I want to open up my chest and shove you inside.”

A breath leaves you, mostly because he’s holding you too tightly. Just tight enough. “So you like that I’m obsessed with you. But do you like me?”

“Yeah,” He sighs, rubbing his cheek into your hair affectionately, “So much it’s kind of scary. You’re all I can think about most of the time. I would look forward to slipping you a little present all day. Then I’d get hard after watching you open it, and I’d have to rub one out. You have no idea how happy it makes me, just being near you.”

You’re quiet for a bit. All you can hear is his gentle purring, rumbling through his body and yours.

One of your hands finds one of his. “…you’ll be mine? My one and only? You won’t ever want anyone else?”

He squeezes. “Just you. You should be more worried about becoming my one and only. If I can’t jerk off or fuck anyone else, that’s all gonna be on you, baby.”

“I’m not particularly worried,” You yawn, “If you get to be too much, I’ll just choke you out again or something.”

You feel him start to twitch inside you, knot still stuck in your entrance – no way. He can’t be hard this soon, not when he hasn’t even finished –

“Hehe. Shouldn’t have said that unless you wanted to go again~!”

“Satoru!!”

[thewulf]

The Price of Protection || Captain John Price

Summary: Request -Recently I was SA. Now I wasn't R@ped. But I was peer pressured/manipulated and intoxicated to verbally consenting to things I didn't want to do. I'm not asking for it to be relived but rather comfort. Everyone always talks about feeling disgusted but I want comfort for the guilt and second thoughts... Read Rest Here

A/N: THIS ONE IS HEAVY. Please read the trigger warnings below. Thank you anon for trusting me with this. I hope you like it.

Pairing: Captain John Price x Female Reader, TF 141 x Platonic Female Reader

Word Count: 4.8k +

TW: MENTIONS OF SA (Not outright but hints), Heavy Angst, general COD warnings.

You had always admired your Captain for as long as you’ve known him. It wasn’t but almost three years ago now that you were assigned to Task Force 141. They were skeptical at first, as you would be too. Who was this little American girl infiltrating their ranks? This was a Task Force with the most brilliant minds and somehow you were there. Yet, you had proven yourself one of the most valuable assets to the team time and time again. You were good, great even, at your job. You could hack into anything, take over any camera you wanted, reroute rockets if you had the time allotted. You were the genius behind some of the missions that could’ve gone south fast. You were Captain Price’s secret weapon that he kept well hidden.

It took you a while to open up to the guys. But leave it to Soap to get you talking. After a year of trying your best to maintain the Ghost persona, Soap had successfully broken you down. They learned of your past, how you came to be so freakishly good with computers and hacking, where you went to school and where you grew up. You were an enigma to the team. And they grew to love you. It was slow until it wasn’t. You were an outcast until you weren’t. You found yourself laughing and bantering with John, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost time and time again. Suddenly, you were a part of the team, a true member of TF141.

Most times you would head out with the team to help them out. But sometimes you could do the job right from your home base. And this mission turned out to be one of those times. You didn’t hate that you didn’t get to go; you just felt a little left out when you stayed back. But Price always assured you it was for your safety above all else. Sometimes these missions were a little too dangerous for even you. Which of course led you to be more nervous than ever. If it was too dangerous for you, then what was it for them? Surely no walk in the park.

You walked with Price out to the chopper trying one last time. “Captain, are you sure? I can help with logistics once you get there.”

He gave you that signature soft Price smile before shaking his head softly. “I’m sure. It’s a quick in and out. No need to put you in the line of fire for it.”

“But…”

He cut you off. “I know you want to go. I really do. But it’s not worth the risk. You’re too valuable to this team.”

You let out a sigh before nodding. “I understand. Please be safe. Make sure everybody comes back in one piece.”

He gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Like we always do. We land at 0800 local time. Soap will be giving you a call then. We’ll see you soon.”

Pressing your lips together you forced a smile to him. “You better.” With a quick nod, you watched as he hopped in the chopper with the rest of the team. Soap flipped you off before the pilot ascended, leaving you in a fit of laughter, always the shit he was.

You had forgotten how much you disliked being away from the team. You felt so far, so disengaged. Even with MacTavish swearing like a sailor in your ear. You felt totally helpless but tried your best to do whatever you could for the team. The mission was successful but not without hiccup. Gaz had been shot, fortunately, it was just a small graze to the shoulder but nevertheless it reminded you of how fragile their lives were. How one misstep could take a best friend away from you. How crucial you really were to their livelihood.

The stress was getting to you tonight though. The thought of mortality was becoming too much. So, you found yourself at the bar just outside of base. What better way to bury your stresses away than to drink your worries away right with it? You weren’t usually so careless. But the worry and the helplessness got the better of you. One beer turned to two. Turned to a few shots bought by a man across the bar who was giving you the eyes. You’d seen him around base. Maybe even chatted for a brief time. But you chose to never give these men the time of day, until tonight. You knew the type and usually stayed far away. But it was a moment of weakness that got to you.

As the night wore on and the drinks kept coming, the edges of your worries dulled. For a fleeting moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders. It was a temporary reprieve, a fleeting sense of freedom from the constant pressure of your responsibilities. In the chatter and clinking of glasses you felt an unwanted hand on your shoulder, and you turned to see the man who had been buying you drinks. His smile was charming, but there was a hint of something predatory in his gaze. Instinctively you tensed as your senses were on high alert in your inebriated state.

You forced a polite smile, but you felt uneasy. The alcohol had clouded your judgment, leaving you vulnerable and exposed. You knew you should’ve left right then and there. Find your way back to the safety of base, but a part of you hesitated. Maybe it was the loneliness or the desire to forget, but you entertained the idea of staying just a little longer.

As the minutes ticked on, you found yourself ensnared in a web of conversation with the soldier. His words were like honeyed poison, dripping with false charm and manipulation. He seemed to know just what to say. But beneath the surface there was a darkness lurking. A predatory intent masked by the guise of friendly banter. The alcohol eventually dulled your senses, clouding your judgment as you struggled to keep up with the rapid pace of the conversation. His words became a blur as each syllable merged into the next until they lost all meaning. But still you listened captivated by the illusion of connection he wove around you.

His touch was insistent. His hands lingering where they shouldn't have been sending shivers of discomfort down your spine. You tried to pull away, to put some distance between you and this stranger who seemed to know too much about you. But he only tightened his grip, his fingers leaving marks in their wake.

As the night wore on, the line between consent and coercion blurred. Your protests drowned out by the relentless onslaught of alcohol and manipulation. You knew deep down that you didn't want this, that every fiber of your being screamed for you to escape. But you felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of his expectations. And so, with a soul weighed down by guilt and shame, you surrendered to his advances. Your body moving on autopilot as you sought refuge in the temporary oblivion of physical pleasure. But even as you gave in a part of you screamed in silent agony you mourned the loss of you usual control.

In the aftermath as the harsh light of reality pierced through the haze of alcohol and regret, you were left grappling with the devastating truth of what had transpired. You had been used, manipulated, reduced to nothing more than a pawn in someone else's twisted game. The guilt threatened to consume you, gnawing at your insides as you struggled to come to terms with what had happened. You blamed yourself, berating your own weakness and naivety. Wishing you had been stronger, smarter, better able to protect yourself. But deep down you knew the truth. You were not to blame. You were a victim of his manipulation, preyed upon by someone who saw you as nothing more than a means to an end.

The next day dawned with a heavy burden that seemed to press down upon your shoulders, weighing you down with the crushing weight of guilt and shame. As the TF141 team returned from their mission, the atmosphere in the base shifted. You left the air thick with an unspoken tension that hung over the corridors.

Alone in your room, you felt as though you were drowning in a sea of despair, the walls closing in around you with every passing moment. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, leaving salty trails in their wake as you grappled with the overwhelming flood of emotions. Each sob that wracked your body felt like a physical manifestation of the agony that churned within you. A relentless reminder of the betrayal of your own body and the violation of your trust. Every breath was a struggle, a battle against the suffocating weight of shame that threatened to crush you beneath its relentless onslaught.

Outside your door, the sounds of laughter from Soap and Gaz only served to deepen your anguish. You could hear Price and the others talking, their footsteps echoing through the corridors as they made their way back to their quarters. But despite the familiarity of their presence, you couldn't bring yourself to face them. You couldn't bear the thought of meeting their eyes and seeing the disappointment and judgment reflected back at you. Instead, you remained sequestered in your room. You isolated yourself from the world outside as you struggled to come to terms with what had actually happened.

As the hours passed and the weight of your guilt continued to bear down on you, your phone buzzed incessantly with messages from Soap, Gaz and even Ghost. Each notification felt like a sharp jab to your already fragile psyche, a painful reminder of the concern and judgment you knew awaited you on the other end of the line. Soap's messages were filled with words of worry and encouragement, his concern evident in the way he repeatedly asked if you were okay. Gaz's messages were more subdued, but no less concerned, his terse inquiries betraying the depth of his worry for your well-being.

You ignored their messages, unable to fake it to them. Instead, you buried yourself deeper in the cocoon of your own despair, the silence of your room offering little solace in the midst of your turmoil. But as the day wore on and hunger gnawed at your stomach, you reluctantly dragged yourself out of bed and made your way to the cafeteria. It was late, far later than anyone else would-be getting dinner, or so you thought.

As you entered the desolate cafeteria, your heart sank at the sight of Ghost sitting alone at a table in the corner. Despite the emptiness of the room his presence felt suffocating, casting a harsh spotlight on the turmoil brewing within you. With a sigh you ignored him and walked up to serve yourself the usual dull military food. You felt Ghost's gaze boring into you. His eyes a mixture of concern and confusion as they lingered on your tear-stained face.

You filled your plate with food, your hands shaking as you struggled to maintain your composure. The weight of Ghost's scrutiny felt like a physical burden. But as you made your way past Ghost's table, you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes. Instead, you kept your gaze fixed on the floor. Your cheeks burned with shame as you tried to hide the evidence of your recent breakdown.

With a quick nod of acknowledgment, you hurried away from Ghost's table. Your steps quickening as you sought refuge in the farthest corner of the room. You found an empty table and sat down keeping your head bowed as you focused on your food, desperate to avoid any further scrutiny. But despite your best efforts, you could still feel Ghost's gaze burning into you. His concern was a palpable presence in the empty room. You felt exposed, vulnerable, as if every inch of your skin was laid bare for him to see. And as you picked at your food, your appetite all but forgotten in the wake of your turbulent emotions. You couldn't help but wonder how long you could keep up the charade. How long before the facade you had constructed came crashing down around you?

As Ghost approached your table, his presence a calming anchor in the midst of your turbulent emotions, he gave a curt nod of acknowledgment. "Hey, kid," he greeted you in his trademark gruff tone, his voice carrying a note of concern beneath its rough exterior. "You alright?"

You tried to mask the evidence of your tears with a feeble attempt at a smile, but Ghost saw right through that. His keen eyes bore into yours, his gaze unwavering as he waited for your response.

"Yeah, just allergies acting up," you replied, your voice betraying the strain of your attempts to deflect his concern.

But Ghost wasn't fooled. He knew you better than that, could see the pain etched into every line of your face. With a grunt of acknowledgment, he accepted your explanation, though you could tell he wasn't entirely convinced.

"I won't push ya," he said with his gravelly voice, his tone softened by a rare display of empathy. "But if you ever wanna talk about it, I'm here." With a grateful nod, you thanked him and watched as he walked out of the room leaving you to your thoughts.

As the morning sun filtered through the curtains you found yourself ensnared in a labyrinth of restless thoughts. Each beam of sunlight seemed to illuminate the tangled mess of emotions that swirled within you, highlighting the heavy shroud of guilt that enveloped your very being. You had spent the night tossing and turning, your pillow dampened by tears that ebbed and flowed.

Just as you had managed to drift into a fitful slumber the persistent knocking at your door shattered the fragile semblance of peace you had managed to find. Each rap on the door felt like a blow to your already fragile composure jolting you awake from the fleeting respite of sleep. Groggy and disoriented you stumbled across the room, every step a struggle against the weight of exhaustion that hung heavy upon your shoulders.

With a heavy heart Captain John Price stood on the other side of the door, his hand hovering tentatively over the handle as he took in the sight before him. His breath caught in his throat, a pang of concern twisting in his chest at the sight of you. The vibrant energy that usually radiated from you had been replaced by a sadness he rarely saw from you. A shadow of your former self. His heart clenched with a mixture of empathy and apprehension as he took in your fragile state. Every instinct urged him to gather you into his arms, to shield you from the pain that etched lines of sorrow upon your face. But he held back, knowing that you needed space to unravel the tangled threads of your emotions in your own time. With a silent prayer on his lips, Price waited for you to acknowledge him.

"Captain, what are you doing here?" you greeted him with a ghost of a smile, though it failed to reach your eyes, which still held traces of the turbulent night you had endured.

Price's gaze softened at the sight of you, his concern etched into every line of his expression. "Hey love," he greeted softly, his voice carrying a gentle warmth that offered solace in the midst of your turmoil. "Missed you this morning at PT. Everything alright?"

You forced a tight-lipped smile, the effort of masking your inner turmoil nearly unbearable. Every word you spoke felt like a weight upon your chest, each syllable a struggle against the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to engulf you. "Yeah, just feeling a bit under the weather," you replied, your voice strained with the weight of the unspoken troubles that gnawed at your conscience. Price's brow furrowed deeper in concern as he studied your haggard appearance. His gaze lingered on you, searching for answers in the depths of your tired eyes, his intuition telling him that there was more to your distress than a simple case of illness.

"You sure that's all it is?" he pressed gently, his voice laced with a mixture of concern and skepticism. He had known you long enough to recognize when something weighed heavily on your mind, and the mask you wore now couldn't conceal the truth from him.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to respond. The weight of your secrets threatened to suffocate you, but you clung to the fragile facade you had constructed, unwilling to burden him with the weight of your troubles. "Yeah, just... a rough night," you murmured, the words tasting bitter on your tongue as you forced them past the lump that lodged there.

Price had always treated you differently, with a softness he never seemed to reserve for the others. From the moment you joined Task Force 141, he recognized the weight of the horrors that came with the job.  He made it his mission to be there for you in a way that went beyond mere professional obligation. He became your confidant, your sounding board, the one person you could turn to when the darkness threatened to overwhelm you. His gentle demeanor and unwavering kindness provided a safe haven in the chaos of missions and the toll they took on your spirit.

Price's gaze softened with understanding as he reached out to gently squeeze your arm. His touch was a far cry from the man a few nights ago. He was that comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions.

"You don't have to face it alone, you know," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your weary soul. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me. You can always talk to me, love."

Indeed, Price's tenderness towards you was unmistakable. While you were every bit a soldier like the rest, he recognized that you were different. The things you witnessed and the actions you took on these missions slowly started eating away at you long ago. But Price was there offering solace and understanding. His affection for you growing deeper with each shared moment of vulnerability.

Over the three years of working together Price found himself drawn to more than just your skills and abilities. It was your spirit, your unwavering determination, and your unique personality that captivated him. At first it was subtle, just a flicker of admiration for the way you handled yourself under pressure, the way you never backed down from a challenge. But as time went on and he got to know you better, that admiration blossomed into something deeper. He found himself enchanted by the fire in your eyes when you spoke passionately about something you believed in. He admired the way you never lost your humanity, even in the midst of the darkest missions. Your compassion and empathy for others in the face of danger touched something within him that he hadn't realized was missing.

Price began to notice the small things about you, the adorable quirks that made you uniquely yourself. He found himself smiling at your jokes, laughing at your antics, and feeling a sense of peace whenever you were around. He cherished the moments when you let your guard down and allowed him to see the vulnerable side of you. He felt honored that you trusted him with your fears and insecurities.

As the years went by, Price realized that his feelings for you had evolved beyond mere admiration. He was in love with you. He loved the way you made him feel alive, the way you challenged him to be a better man, and the way you brought light into his dark world. But even as his feelings grew, Price knew that he could never act on them. Not while he was your Captain and the stakes of their missions remained so high. So, he buried his feelings deep inside. He was content to love you from afar and grateful for the opportunity to know you. Even if it meant keeping his emotions hidden.

Soap, Ghost, and Gaz were like a finely tuned unit, attuned not only to the dynamics of the battlefield but also to the subtleties of their comrades' interactions. They noticed the way Price's demeanor would shift whenever you entered the room. The slight softening of his usually stern expression, the warmth that crept into his eyes as they lingered on you, and the way his voice would adopt a gentler tone when he spoke to you. It was unmistakable to them though they never openly acknowledged it.

In their downtime when the mission chatter had quieted, and they found themselves lounging around the base, the guys would exchange knowing glances whenever Price's attention seemed to linger on you a little longer than necessary. Soap might chuckle and nudge Ghost, raising an eyebrow in silent communication that spoke volumes about Price's apparent fondness for you. Ghost, ever the silent observer, would offer a small smirk in return, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched Price navigate the delicate balance between professionalism and the undeniable affection he held for you.

Gaz, always one for a bit of banter, wouldn't hesitate to make playful remarks whenever the opportunity presented itself. He'd tease Price about being extra protective of you during missions, jokingly suggesting that Price had a soft spot for you that he couldn't quite hide. Price would roll his eyes in response, brushing off Gaz's comments with a gruff retort. But the slight flush that colored his cheeks betrayed the truth behind Gaz's jests.

Despite their teasing, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz respected the unspoken boundaries that surrounded Price's feelings for you. They knew that his affection for you was genuine and deep-rooted, and they never pushed him to confront it unless he was ready. As for you, you might have been the only one oblivious to the undercurrent of emotions swirling around Price. To you he remained the steadfast leader, unwavering in his commitment to the mission and the safety of his team. His true feelings were well hidden behind a mask of professionalism and duty.

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to find the courage to vocalize the turmoil that had been devouring you from within. The weight of your confession hung heavy upon your shoulders. Each word feeling like a jagged stone forced from your chest. "I... I had a little too much to drink while everyone was gone," you confessed, your voice barely rising above a whisper, as if you were afraid the words themselves would shatter the fragile sanctuary you had built around yourself. "And... I did things... things I didn't want to do."

As you spoke, the air in the room seemed to thicken with a suffocating sense of shame. You couldn't bring yourself to meet Price's gaze. You feared the judgment you were sure would reflect in his eyes. But when you finally summoned the courage to glance up, the expression etched on Price's face was not one of condemnation but of utmost concern. His features tightened with an intensity that mirrored the turmoil raging within him. His heart twisted with a potent blend of anger and sorrow at the thought of someone exploiting your vulnerability in such a despicable manner. But despite the roiling emotions churning beneath the surface, he remained stoically composed. He understood that now was not the time for upsetting you even further.

"Coerced..." you added, your voice trembling with shame as you unveiled the truth that had festered within you like a poison, eating away at your sense of self-worth with every passing moment. "I tried to resist, but... he wouldn't listen. He wouldn’t take no for an answer."

As the weight of your confession hung heavy in the air between you, you couldn't help but feel a surge of relief wash over you. As if the simple act of vocalizing your pain had lifted a burden that had threatened to crush you. Despite the shame that threatened to consume you there was a profound sense of solace in knowing that you were no longer bearing this burden alone. That you had finally allowed yourself to be vulnerable in front of the one person you trusted implicitly.

In that moment of raw honesty, you couldn't help but wonder if Price understood the depth of your feelings for him. If he could see beyond the facade you presented to the world and glimpse the tangled mess of emotions that lay hidden beneath the surface. As you spoke you couldn't deny the palpable sense of comfort that enveloped you. It was as if in allowing yourself to be vulnerable with Price you had discovered a sanctuary where judgment held no power, where acceptance reigned supreme. Captain John Price was the best of men.

And as Price listened his gaze never wavering from yours, you couldn't shake the feeling that he knew on some level the depth of your affection for him. Perhaps it was the gentleness in his touch, the understanding in his eyes, or the unwavering support he offered without hesitation. Whatever the reason, you found yourself daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way. As the weight of your confession hung heavy in the air between you, you realized with startling clarity that Price was more than just a trusted confidant. He was your rock, your pillar of strength in a world filled with uncertainty and doubt. And as the realization settled deep within your heart, you couldn't help but acknowledge the truth that had been staring you in the face all along: you loved him, in a way that transcended mere friendship.

With each passing moment, the bond between you and Price grew stronger, forged in the chaos of shared experiences and unwavering support. And as you looked into his eyes seeing the reflection of your own emotions mirrored back at you, you knew without a doubt that you could tell him anything, and he would be right there for you, no matter what.

Price's grip on your arm tightened ever so slightly as you made your confession. His touch both grounding and reassuring in its strength. His resolve hardened as he fought back the surge of protectiveness that threatened to consume him. "I'm here for you," he reassured you, his voice unwavering in its conviction. "Whatever you need, I'll do everything in my power to help you through this."

As Price listened to your trembling words a whirlwind of emotions roiled within him. Anger burned hot in his chest at the thought of someone taking advantage of you. His fists clenched with the urge to seek retribution. But beneath the rage a deeper sense of sorrow welled up aching with empathy for the pain you had endured alone. "I will always be here for you," he murmured again. As the weight of your confession settled upon you both Price felt a swell of tenderness wash over him, mingling with the fierce determination that burned within him. He wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms, to shield you from the pain that gnawed at your soul.

With a gentle hand he lifted your chin, meeting your tear-filled gaze with unwavering reassurance. His heart clenched at the sight of your vulnerability, and he couldn't help but brush away the tears that traced delicate paths down your cheeks. "You're not alone. I promise you that," he whispered, his voice infused with a quiet strength that resonated deep within you. "I'll be right here, every step of the way." And as he spoke those words you felt a sense of solace wash over you. You knew that you could lean on him, trust in him.

Against his better judgment, Price drew you into his embrace. His arms encircling you with a tenderness that concealed the strength of his resolve. He held you close as you surrendered to the flood of tears that just kept coming. "It's okay," he murmured softly, his voice a gentle reassurance in the midst of your turmoil. "I've got you. You're safe now."

His heart clenched at the sight of your vulnerability. He couldn't help but brush his hand through your hair. His touch a comforting caress that made you shiver. With each stroke he hoped to ease the burden that weighed so heavily upon your shoulders.

"You're not alone love," he whispered in reassurance. His voice a quiet promise against the chaos of your emotions. "I'm here for you, always." He said once more letting you know that he wasn’t going anywhere. He continued to hold you as the tears slowly subsided. His silent grasp on you a vow to stand by your side through every trial and tribulation that may lay ahead.

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[orcelito]

ok, i cant resist the urge to make a post about it after all, especially since it's related to a post i made prior

one of my favorite moments in trimax is By Far this part in chapter 35

[ID: Two pages from Trigun. The first starts with Wolfwood thinking, "Now that I think 'bout it, it may be one of the major differences between our species." That deep rooted dear I felt on the ship…" He thinks of Vash crying blood and, swearing, wonders, "Is he the one who can save humankind? That monster?" Wolfwood is briefly shown in resolution before someone calls, "Hey, Wolfwood!" and he looks up with surprise.

Vash sits with a smile at the edge of a rooftop, backed by the Fifth Moon and its prominent crater. Vash asks with a smile, "Just coming back now? You're a bit of a night owl, huh?" Wolfwood looks taken aback and wary. End ID]

Right Here. Vash is just sitting there, smiling like normal, but he's got the backdrop of the damage he caused on the moon set Perfectly behind him. it's a glaring reminder to Wolfwood of who exactly he's dealing with here, and that TERRIFIES him.

& the fact that Wolfwood still remembers that moment of crying blood as a moment of true fear. because for all the cheer Vash shows in the average moment, Wolfwood just recently saw him nearly lose control Again (at the Dragon's Nest). the second time he witnessed it, & the third time he would know about.

Vash is a walking atomic bomb with multiple charges. even with how cheerful & kind he is, he's shown Multiple Times that he does not have full control. he is decidedly something different, something Hazardous to humans, and Wolfwood knows this very very painfully.

for all that Wolfwood loves Vash, he is also terrified of him. and at this point in the story, that terror is potent enough to nearly eclipse his affection for Vash.

leading to some of the next most iconic pages:

[ID: The next page starts with Wolfwood standing behind the sitting Vash, his expression hard and the moon bright behind him. Vash seems sad and has one eye open. A close-up focuses on Wolfwood looking down.

Wolfwood thinks, "So easy to pull the trigger. So easy to remove half the problem." Another close-up with bright lighting obscures his face but for one eye. Then Vash turns around curiously and asks, "What's up?" Wolfwood sits behind him and says "Nothin'. Come on. Let's go." Vash seems surprised as Wolfwood scolds, "Don't get yerself tangled up in every little skirmish ya see. It'll be pointless if ya get yerself killed before ya meet him." End ID]

the manga frames it like Vash doesn't know Wolfwood was pointing the gun at him, but I think he did know. he's freakishly perceptive over and over again throughout the story. he HAS to be in order to survive like he has. he'd hear the movement of the gun & sense Wolfwood behind him...

he'd know. i really think he knew.

but he doesn't do anything about it. there is zero fear in his face. he turns to look at Wolfwood curiously, a bit confused, but not afraid. he never once thought that Wolfwood would shoot him. there's full faith and trust there in that moment.

Wolfwood pretends that nothing happened, & Vash lets him. they both move on, not talking about it, because they never talk about Anything of substance like this (not until much, Much later).

overall, it's just such a great example of their relationship's development. Wolfwood's fear & Vash's trust that he won't act on it... it's just. Man.

(EDIT: people have made some good points about how Vash's expression when Wolfwood points the gun at him shows that he probably did know and YEAH that's a good point! & probably why I was so certain he knew lol, I just hadn't realized it myself)

[bteezxyewriter12]

Milk/ 1

Pairing- San x Named Reader

Word count- 2.6k

Includes- Sex from behind, dirty talk, squirting, multiple orgasms

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@yeosxxx @seokwoosmole @jjongsbebe @wisejudgedragonhairdo @meowmeowminnie @woo-stars @borntowalkaway @usagionthered @san-realblkwife @seonghwasstar @jejeyeppeo @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @prayerofthehaim @realisticnotes @pinkies-things @insomniacatiny @stephy-nicole13 @mknae-jongho @bykeynote @amyz78 @blueie-things

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📝Masterlists 📝ATEEZ Masterlist 📝San Masterlist

This is the San 3-4 part fic that won the poll

San POV

"Would you stop squirming?", my best friend snaps, glaring over at me from her side of the bed

"I can't help it", I answer, trying to hide my hard on, "I'm trying to get comfortable"

It's hard while watching this sex scene

I had no idea what I was in for when she wanted to watch True Blood

She said it was about vampires

Not my thing, but she's my best friend since infanthood so I caved

She's watched things I wanted that she had no interest in either so I figured I can do this for her

So far it was interesting but I had no idea about the graphic sex scenes in it

Like Game of thrones

And I haven't fucked anyone in awhile so excuse me if I get horny and hard during what is basically a soft core porn scene

I don't want her to know I'm hard or she'll never let me live it down

It also doesn't help that she paused the show midway through one of the vampires thrusting into the girl

"Why aren't you comfortable? You've been laying in the same position for awhile and now all of a sudden you need to move?", she rolls her eyes, "What, are you hard or something?"

How the fuck does she know?

"No", I scowl at her, turning my body away from her

She stares at me for a second then a huge grin breaks on her face, "Oh my god you are!"

"No!", I say defensively

"Let me see!"

"What? No!", I yell as she tugs on my arm to try to roll me to my back, "Stop Jo!"

She's freakishly strong and she manages to pull me hard enough to get me on my back, her hands pulling away the blanket before I even have a chance to keep it covering me

"Oh shit", she giggles, the big tent in my pants glaringly obvious

"Jo, the fuck?", I whine, trying to grab the blanket

"A sex scene in a show made you hard?", she laughs, "Seriously?"

"Hey!", I snap, "I haven't fucked anyone in awhile. I'm horny!"

"What about three weeks ago-"

"I was drunk and don't remember anything. You don't either"

Yeah we fucked.....

I think

But it doesn't count because we were both shit faced from a club, our friends dumped us at my apartment and apparently we had sex

I woke up naked with her next to me, naked too, the next morning

But I can't remember anything about it

She can't either

So we both assume we had sex but we're not really sure

And since I don't remember, then I don't count it and I maintain that I haven't had sex for awhile

"Yeah ok, I see your point", she agrees

"Good. Can we drop it now?"

"I don't think you can", she jokes, glancing at my dick

"Haha, you're so funny", I snap

I'm also annoyed that my dick isn't going down

Normally this would mortify me and make any hard on disappear in seconds

But it's her, we're open about stuff like this, we're talking about it and I guess that's why I'm still hard

It'll take awhile to go down but it will when I get distracted

"Put the show back on"

She shakes her head, standing up, "I know what you can do to take care of it"

Is she really going to leave me to jerk off in her bed?

Seriously?

I can go to the bathroom for that

Which I tell her

"No not that", she says and I'm at a loss for what she means

She walks over to her desk and to my utter shock she wiggles down her shorts and panties

Leaning over her desk, she looks over her shoulder at me, "Come fuck me"

My mouth drops open in complete surprise

Did she just say she wants me to go fuck her?

We don't do things like this

"What? You're horny. I'm horny, we can kill two birds with one stone"

That's what she's calling it?

That's why she wants to because it's convenient?

"I uh...I don't think-", I start but stop talking when she bends over more, her small fingers pulling her pussy lips apart, letting me see her small, wet hole

Oh my fucking god, her pussy is the prettiest I've ever seen

And so fucking wet

I feel my cock throb, wanting to be buried inside her

But I'm not sure about taking this step and I'm not keen on messing up our friendship

I love her, she's my rock and I need her

"Sannie", she whines cutely, "C'mon. I wanna feel you inside me"

"You do?", I ask flabbergasted

She nods, glancing over her shoulder again, "Ever since we woke up and didn't know if we had sex, I've wondered what it'd feel like to be with you. What it's feel like to have your dick buried in my pussy, fucking me, coming on you. And the more I think about it the more I want it"

I'm in total disbelief

I mean, yes, I've thought about being with her too but I never imagined she gave it a second thought

"Don't you want to?", she asks, sounding unsure now

"Yes", I answer immediately and internally smacking myself for sounding desperate, "I'm just....I'm worried this will change us"

She shakes her head, "Oh please Sannie, it's just sex. I'm not gonna fall in love with you or anything stupid like that. It's just fucking because we're both horny. That's all"

Ok, that's good

That was the only reason I was holding back

But now that it's cleared up, I'm good

Standing up, I drop my sweatpants and boxers, kicking them off, then moving right to her

"Wow San", she says, eyeing my cock

I smirk, "Like it?"

She nods, "So big. Gonna feel so good"

"Oh yeah?", I tease, pumping my cock a few times

"Yeah", she teases, "You may not know this about me but I like having big fat cocks up my cunt. And yours fits the bill"

Ok yeah I am shocked but I'm not gonna let that show

"Always knew you were a slut", I tell her, rubbing my head against her slit, feeling her juice soak my cock

"Mmm hmmm", she whimpers, "You're slut now"

God, that's such a turn on, "Yeah tonight you're my whore"

With that I shove my cock up her cunt, splitting her on my length so pleasurably, bottoming out in one stroke

"Yes, fuck San", she cries, her pussy clamping down around my cock, throbbing so fucking nicely, her pussy lips wrapped tightly around me

"God, you're so tight", I pant, "When was the last time you were fucked?"

"You", she moans softly

Me?

Guess she's counting that night then

"You don't even know if I really fucked you", I tell her, pushing her down on the desk then pulling out, feeling her cunt suck on me, trying to hold me inside her

Fuck that feels so good

Slamming back in, her hole takes me in, clenching as soon as I'm back, sending pleasure up my spine

"You did", she murmurs as I hold her down, fucking into her over and over

Her pussy locks on my cock every time I thrust into her, like she wants to keep me in, showering my dick and lap with her creamy juice

"How do you know?", I moan, pulling her legs apart more, jackhammering my cock into her waiting cunt

She takes me absolutely perfectly even though we're a tight snug fit with no room to spare

She has got to be one of the best pussy's I've ever fucked

"Because I re... remember...bits....and pieces", she moans

I remember her telling me that but I'm not sure if she's mixing me up with someone else

Slamming into her, she cries out loudly, clenching down on my cock particularly hard

"There Sannie", she whines, "Please, fuck me there"

"You're spot?", I ask smugly

"Yes"

"Ok baby. I'll fuck you there"

Pounding into her, I make sure I hit that spot over and over, her pussy watering like a waterfall

I look down, moaning as I watch her cream my cock up good, the squelching sound of my cock in her cunt so loud

"Hear how loud you're cunt is for me?", I ask her

"Yes", she moans, pussy pulsing sweetly around my shaft

"Think I'm fucking you better this time around?"

"Yes", she cries

I'm so fucking hot, sweat making my shirt cling to me

Not missing a thrust, I pull my shirt off, tossing it on the ground, the cool air hitting my body feeling good

She's sweating too, her shirt wet with it, so I shove her shirt up, telling her to get up

She moves up, her hands holding her up on the desk as I get her shirt off her, then undo her bra, tossing both on the floor with my shirt

Moving closer to her, I press my body against her, the soft, smooth skin of her back right against my chest, making me actually shiver

My hands reach around her, groping and squeezing her squishy boobs, my head right next to hers, leaning on hers

"You feel so good", I moan in her ear, letting the pleasure hit me everywhere, her pussy fluttering so fucking hard around me as I push through her tightness over and over again

"You....feel good....too", she hiccups

I hear crumpling sounds and when I look down at the desk, her hands are squeezing the life from the papers on the desk

I smirk, knowing I'm giving it to her good

"You've been craving for my cock in your pussy for awhile haven't you?", I murmur in her ear, her head leaning back on my shoulder

"Yes San", she moans, my fingers now pinching her hard nipples

"Mmm I'm glad. Glad you convinced me to fuck your tight wet pussy that feels so fucking good", I moan, glancing at her

She whimpers, pleasure on her face so pretty

I'm not dumb, I know my best friend is pretty

I just never thought about her this way

Until now

"May have to keep fucking you"

She nods, groaning, "Yes. Fuck. You can fuck my pussy anytime you want"

"Oh yeah?", I tease, "Want your best friend's cock up your cunt all the time?"

"Yes", she cries, pussy spasming uncontrollably, "Wanna be your cock sleeve Sannie"

My mind explodes at her words, getting hornier and fucking into her harder

"You can, fuck. Gonna wear your pussy all the time now", I tell her, "Fuck, want you to cum for me"

Once my words are said, she moans, her body shaking against me, her pussy clenching my cock in a vice grip as she cums

Incredible pleasure slams into me from her orgasm, taking my breath away

Holy fucking shit, it's fucking amazing

"San", she moans softly, my head snapping to look at her immediately, it taking me a second to process that she's saying my name while she climaxes

Holy shit

"Sannie, fuck. San"

While I'm shocked hearing my name, I continue to fuck her through her orgasm until she finishes

Then I shove her back down on the desk, speeding up my thrusts as I plow into her cunt, watching her tiny hole split open for me, her swollen pussy lips so pretty around my cock

"Cum again", I demand, pounding her into the desk, "I need it"

It's too fucking good

Her orgasm is like a rush of ecstasy and I need to feel it again

"Fuck", she moans, her head laying on the desk, her eyes squeezes shut as her cunt swallows my cock over and over

She's making such a big fucking mess on my cock that I love seeing

Moving my arm around her, I press my fingers into her clit, rubbing it in circles harshly

"Fuck!", she shouts, her cunt squeezing my cock hard

"Yes baby", I urge her, fucking her spot and playing with her clit, "Cum for my cock. Wanna feel it again. Feels so good"

I feel like a junkie, the only thing on my mind is getting her cunt to cum so I can get a hit of that pleasure

"Sannie", she cries, getting impossibly tight around my cock

Her orgasm is gonna make me cum

I know it

I pant as I thrust into her, her scream of my name signalling her orgasm

Clear liquid pours from her cunt as she squirts around my cock, soaking me and the floor, her cunt keeping my cock in a death grip as she pulses wonderfully

The pleasure I was craving washes over me and I revel in it

"Cum San!", she cries, "Cum in my pussy! Wanna milk your cock"

Shock at her words enters through the pleasure, exciting me more

"Please baby. Wanna milk your cock so bad"

"Fuck Jo! Fuck", I yell, shoving my cock deep inside her, my cock throbbing as I cum, pure ecstasy blinding me

My entire body shakes as I empty into her, intense pleasure I've never felt before tidal waving over me

Her cunt squeezes my length again and again, milking my cock so fucking well

"Yes Sannie", she moans, "Gimme your cum baby. Fuck want all of it. Every last drop"

Her milking pussy keeps me in pleasure longer, sucking everything from my cock

"Yes fuck", she whimpers, "Love milking fat cocks like yours Sannie"

She is completely shocking me today

I found out a few things about her I've never knew

And each one is such a turn on

The pleasure leaves as I'm sucked dry, only then does her pussy loosen around me and I fall out

I lean against the desk so I don't faceplant on the floor, both of us breathing hard

That has to be one of the best sex sessions I've ever had

Hands down

She stands up, her gaze landing on mine, her cheeks pink

"Don't be shy on me now", I laugh, caressing her face softly

"I'm not", she answers, "We uh...should get cleaned up though"

I nod, "Ok"

She gathers her clothes then heads for the door, "I'll be back"

"Hold on", I call

She looks back at me, "Do you really like milking cock?"

She rolls her eyes, her sass back, "Yeah. I like clenching on dick, I like feeling cum in my pussy. And it's easier to milk fat cocks than skinny ones"

Wow, ok

I didn't think she'd really answer that but ok

"We good?", she asks

I nod wordlessly

She nods, then disappears

I assume to the bathroom

I take a second for the reality of what just happened to hit me

I fucked my best friend

And it was amazing

That is a shock within itself

And the things she said, letting me fuck her anytime...I wonder if it was true or just something said in the moment

I know I said I'd fuck her all the time and honestly I'm not sure if I meant it or not

I mean if she wanted to, I'd definitely have sex with her again

This is confusing and I need to stop

It's just sex, like she said

Nothing to worry about or over analyze

She comes back five minutes later, her eyes averted from me as I realize I'm still just standing here naked

Shit

"Bathroom is yours", she says, looking down as she makes it to her bed

"Thanks", I say, collecting my clothes then getting to the bathroom

I clean up, use the bathroom and wash my hands then get my clothes back on

Heading into her room again, I take my place next to her in her bed

Like we were sitting before we fucked

"Ready?", she asks

I nod and she unpauses the show, both of us acting like nothing happened

[shadowqueenjude]

Lol this is incredibly fucked up and I don’t think Tamlin or Lucien in canon would ever actually do this but it was too freakishly weird not to write. Based on this post by @nocasdatsgay This takes place the day after the Solstice after Lucien gifted Elain those pearl earrings.

Tamlin found his old friend once more in his delapidated manor, looking even more miserable than the face Tamlin saw in the mirror every day. That’s when Tamlin knew it was bad.

His friend, his Lucien, always so bright and witty and strong, reduced to this lifeless thing. Part of it was Tamlin’s own fault. Much of it was his family’s fault. And the rest…well Tamlin guessed it was the Night Court’s fault. He clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut to try and control the emotions roiling through him.

Tamlin walked up behind Lucien slumping on the couch. He showed so little reaction that for a moment Tamlin almost thought he couldn’t sense his presence.

“I don’t understand,” Lucien said at last.

Tamlin stilled, listening to the Autumn court male speak.

“I protected her in Hybern. I traversed Prythian for her. I demanded she get sunlight and fresh air from the Inner Circle. I journeyed across the content to seek an army based on her vision. I returned with a retinue complete with her own father, and I fight across the battlefield to reach her, and she asks me to stay in Velaris. Then nothing. Avoids me like the plague. I understand she wasn’t expecting all this and she was in love…but was I not also? Yet I’m trying to make the most of this and she…pushes me away. I learn about her. I gift her garden gloves. I gift her pearl earrings. She loves gardening and pearls. She seems to dislike my gifts. She cringes away. I feel her attention towards that dark angry shadowsinger. He despises me for some reason. I don’t understand. Am I that unlovable?” Lucien seemed to be talking to himself.

Tamlin’s heart strained at the longing and anguish etched on his face. All these years, Tamlin had hid much of his true darkness from Lucien, not wishing him to ever wear that expression. His hopes had been for naught, for there he was. Oh, he wore it so well, but he should never have to bear the burden of this pain. Part of it was Tamlin’s fault; he’d do whatever he could in order to make up for it.

Tamlin swallowed and cleared his throat. “You are not. You’re not unlovable, I mean.” He finished with a whisper, “I love you, Lucien. And I’m so sorry.”

Lucien looked at him then, his mismatched eyes burning with a fire that raised the temperature of the entire room. “Are you her? Are you my mate? Elain?” he demanded with a bitterness that threatened to undo Tamlin’s composure.

Tamlin swallowed. He had sworn to never do this long ago, but he was a different man then. A better one. More whole than he was now. Now he was but a shred of a man, a broken man with a broken throne.

“I could be,” he croaked. He couldn’t believe what he was saying. Monster, a voice hissed in his head. Oath-breaker. Ah well, what was another thing broken?

He didn’t know Elain Archeron’s exact proportions, which was a relief because he didn’t want to violate her. But he remembered her face, and he willed his emerald eyes to transform to that of a fawn’s coat, his hair to darken slightly to a burnished gold, his stature to shorten, his rugged body to grow elegant curves, until he was Elain’s double. Tamlin’s pants, now far too baggie for him, slipped down his body until he was left in his oversized shirt, which hung off his shoulders.

Lucien’s fiery eyes softened, his voice filled with affection and concern as he murmured, “Elain?”

“Lucien,” Tamlin sighed in Elain’s voice. He felt so disgusting, but if it was what Lucien needed to feel comfortable in this very moment, he would do it. Tamlin could do with the comfort himself, lonely as he was now.

“Elain,” Lucien breathed again, one hand tentatively reaching out towards Tamlin-no, Elain. It was Elain he was reaching for; Tamlin had to do well to remember that.

Tamlin couldn’t bring himself to care much longer about propriety when Lucien grabbed his hand and yanked him onto his lap. His breaths became hard and heavy as that hand trailed up his inner thigh.

“I want you so badly,” Tamlin gasped as Lucien’s hand went to the hem of his shirt. Lucien leaned forward, his mouth brushing the spot where Tamlin’s neck met his shoulder. Then it trailed up, up, until he reached his ear, leaving embers in its wake. “Shall I take this off then?” he crooned, tugging on the shirt. “Yes,” Tamlin let out barely, and Lucien slowly began pulling it off, brushing the skin it left exposed as he went. One hand was firmly on Tamlin’s breast as the other lifted the shirt off of his head. Lucien then stared and stared at Tamlin with a fire that had he been standing, would’ve made him weak to the knees.

“The most beautiful faerie I have ever seen,” Lucien whispered, gently pushing Tamlin flat onto the couch. Such pretty words he spoke against his skin as Lucien took his time, starting from the forehead, moving down the slope of his nose, his cheeks, the bow of his lips, his neck, his collarbone, his chest, his stomach, skipping over the place Tamlin needed him most, caressing his thighs, his calves, his ankles. Tamlin whined and grabbed Lucien’s head, pulling it between his legs.

Lucien chuckled darkly. “So desperate for me, are you, Elain?”

By the Mother. Tamlin could not help but feel envy. Lucien wanted to do all of this to her. It was beyond him why Elain was still turning Lucien down. Were Tamlin in her place, he would’ve accepted the bond without hesitation.

Mind foggy with pleasure and envy for the lady he was impersonating, Tamlin could only form one word.

“Yes.”

[inbarfink]

Okay, you know what, let's talk a little bit more about Simon Petrikov's ears

I already made a silly little post pointing out how the Winter King is drawn with visible ears, while Mainverse Simon is always drawn without them.

And I've gotten a few replies on that post saying that it's probably just a difference in hairstyle. Y'know, the Winter King tacks his hair behind his ears, Simon doesn't. But... I don't think that works if you look at Simon's design. I mean, it does seem to be the case if you look at this one screenshot I here - but usually....

Simon Petrikov's little glasses are very helpful here, because they literally form a line with where his ears should be, and you can see that his hair typically ends just above that point and no matter how much he turns his head there are no ears.

In a back shot you can even see where his glasses handle end, and there's no ears anywhere to actually hold them.

(this is also true when he's Ice King btw)

It's kind of a Whole Thing. The Adventure Time artstyle has some general guidelines of how to draw humanoids' face, but it's fully willing to break them to make someone more goofy and distinctive. Like, some characters having noses or more detailed eyes or even lips. And ears are already kind of a Weird Subject considering how many AT characters wear hair/hats in a way that hides their ears anyways.

Princess Bubblegum is another earless characters, but it's actually pretty hard to notice because most of her hairstyle obscure her Perfectly Spherical Head.

But she's like, Made of Gum, so it's less Weird for her to be earless compared to Simon Petrikov who's meant to be a Perfectly Normal Human Man.

(although Prince Gumball somehow does have ears. Even when he IS in his Magic Candy Form)

(Which is like... lowkey Weird. But still, Magic Candy People's physiologically can be whatever)

Meanwhile, ears IS something pretty consistently drawn for human Adventure Time characters. So it is pretty weird Simon doesn't seem to have them. It's probably a matter of, like, Simon being one of the first not-Finn Human characters added to Adventure Time and with the aforementioned matter of most characters not having their ears/lack of ears visible either way they weren't really sure of how Humans should look in the AT style at that point.

Or maybe they wanted to keep it consistent with Ice King's "Loyalty to the King" look and decided that a Magic Evil Crown that makes your ears fall off is a step too far. Or maybe having his ears hidden by his hair is what was originally intended in his design, but was misinterpreted as being straight-up earless so consistently by the shortboarders and animators it eventually just became his canon look.

But I think also... characters having certain non-typical facial features on Adventure Time is generally an indication that they're particularly prominent. So characters who are drawn with noses generally have large noses. The smaller a facial feature is, the more likely it is to get simplified into nothing.

Therefore, looking at it from an in-universe perspective, I think the most logical conclusion is that Simon Petrikov is not straight-up literally earless - he just has weird freakishly-small ears

And the Winter King was so insecure about them he literally enlarged them with magic.

[blixabargelds]

hiii can u say more about rosie in superstar?

YES I CAN ahhh punk robbie rosie where to start….

he’s like half me and elo extracting what we could from the show and half our oc lol. like, re: canon rosie, he’s insane. i think they missed fleshing out his character so much in mota but he is Insane. flak house to rest? no must go fly more missions. whilst singing. ok girl.

superstar rosie is similarly dedicated to his craft so. he’s the guitarist of the band and he is good, undeniably by a mile the best musician out of all of them. he went to college for music. he listens to chopin and hanatarash. his parents were incredibly overbearing and cold bc he’s this freakishly gifted kid but he didn’t want them to dictate his life, he wanted to join a punk band.

he has become one of the most complicated characters either of us have written. we took the show’s crumbs and created a monster. he’s kind of the pillar of support for john and gale. or is he?? he’s the friend they sooo desperately need. or Is He??? jgkh this is so vague but his character really builds as you get to know him and i don’t want to spoil too much but.

he’s incredibly kind. he cares fiercely. but his relationship to john n gale is messy, he’s john’s ex and gale’s got some hackles about that. but when john is uh unavailable and gale needs a friend rosie is there like above and beyond there. john calls him angel, because he thinks he is one. rosie hates that because he thinks that’s far from true. i think sometimes he views people as chess pieces. he’s working on that.

there’s a lot to him. a lot lot lot. he’s bi and seems to fall for men deeper where his phone is full of angry girls asking him to text them back. he doesn’t do too many drugs, the odd line of coke here n there. he knows his limits Hard. he’s kind of the most mature and sometimes most immature of all of them. he’s a big big old mess and i wanna fuck him so bad tbh

[bluemooniegif]

is Sigma 3 years old?

anon asked: Asking very seriously, please don’t get mad… It’s probably (definitely) my fault for having bad reading comprehension, but why do people say Sigma isn’t 3? I really thought he was… What am I misunderstanding? I don’t want to embarrass myself by claiming that he’s 3 if he actually is not. Thank you in advance!

so the reason people think Sigma is 3 is because of a misunderstanding with how The Book works, and I'll try my best to explain here: 

The Book essentially connects all possible universes. so, think of all the times in BSD when if a character had made a slightly different decision, the story would be completely different- that's an alternate universe. and as far as we know, they go on to infinity. 

 The Book also contains writing that details everything that has happened so far, in a novel format. so, when a character gets their hands on it, if they want to change their world they must continue writing the story in the same format. this means that they need to take into account the characters, lore, and setting when they write. 

once the change has been written into The Book, it appears that it just magically appears into the canon universe, but that's not true! The Book takes the information from an existing alternate universe, and it is sent to the canon universe. so for example, when the DOA got hold of a page, they wrote a plot-twist into the story: the ADA is actually the terrorist organisation responsible for the recent acts against Yokohama. this didn't require for the actual ADA members to be swapped out; instead, the world's understanding of their role changed. the understanding is what was swapped. 

I hope that makes sense so far.. anyway, onto Sigma! 

we still don't really know why or how Sigma was taken from his home universe- maybe this is something we'll start to learn as we dig into Fyodor's past? but anyway, based on our understanding of how The Book works, it makes sense that Sigma was taken from his home and abandoned in a new world. 

even if we didn't understand The Book, I'd argue this point because: 1. he's a grown man, and so far we don't have any evidence of kids who mature freakishly quick; 2. he constantly laments that he wants things like a family and a home; I personally see this as his subconscious aching for his past; 3. back on the grown man thing, Sigma acts with the maturity of an adult, which is yet another thing we don't see just magically appearing in BSD- characters have to work for it

so in all, it makes more sense that Sigma was transported from his universe into canon, rather than magically appearing out of nowhere 3 years ago! 

[Smile or comment on the answer here](https://retrospring.net/@bluemoonasks/a/112109519607837076)

[eqt-95]

20 Questions More

A deeper and more detailed version of the 20 questions for AO3 fanfic writers. Thanks @fabulousglitch for the tag!!

1) How do you keep getting ideas for your ship/fandom?

The blorbos won't leave me alone.

2) Which authors inspire you in your fandom, and why are they so freakishly good?

There are too many to count. I was introduced to Supergirl through fanfic and the canon I know to be true has been built on the backs of hundreds of contributors. It wouldn't do anyone justice if I started a list because 1. it would become a monolith of names and 2. I would definitely miss one(s). If you're in this fandom, you've likely inspired me, and that counts both for written, gif-ed, and drawn works.

3) Aside from the characters of your main ship, who are the characters you love to write?

Alex, but I don't always get it right.

4) Are there pairings or tropes you know for sure you'd never write about? Which ones?

There is a lot I probably wouldn't do, but I also for sure never expected to write an F1 au, so...

5) What is your writing process and why is it cursed?

I can either sit down and crush 1-3k words or sit down and tweak the same seven sentences for two hours. There is rarely an in between.

6) What is your favorite part of your writing process?

Editing. Oh boy do I LOVE editing. Those opportunities for finessing and fine-tuning and tweaking are *mwah*

7) What’s the weirdest thing you’ve had to research for a fic?

This isn't weird but is more recent: I did a deep dive into star constellations for a throwaway line in 'new kind of romance'

8) Is there a particular writing rule you struggle with (grammar, spelling, tense, reality in general)?

This is a nonanswer, but I would love to expand my vocabulary. The thesaurus is my writing buddy, but there are very real moments where I pout and scowl and glare at the ceiling because I can't think of the word that I'm feeling.

9) What was your hardest scene to write so far and why?

Any sort of conflict/confession/confrontation is always really hard for me, but they're also maybe my favorite things to write. I want the characters to hash things out and be honest and vulnerable, and I think tackling big emotions is a delicate balance. I never want to sound too forceful, but I don't want to leave things unsaid, but I don't want anyone to do anything out of character, but i don't want to yadda yadda...

10) Have your characters ever done something you didn’t expect, changing your plot completely?

see: 'crisis of indulgence'

11) If you could converse with any of the characters, who would it be and why?

Lena; I think she'd be a lot of fun to debate/argue with (respectfully).

12) What are some of the tropes or themes that you find yourself returning to in your writing?

(so far) always a happy ending. the readers and these characters deserve it.

13) What's your most important resource as a writer?

Living experiences (which takes time!). I don't think I could write heartbreak without having experienced that guttural feeling of loss in the same way I don't think I could write about failure or anger or insecurity or love or laughter. I think reading and the act of writing every day are incredibly resourceful, but the act of my lived experiences and those feelings is something I draw from in everything I write.

14) Can you share some of your strategies for editing and revising your work?

I edit as I go which doesn't work for everyone; however, a super fun thing I've picked up in recent works is this: when going to do a final edit of a <insert: chapter, one-shot, etc>, I read the last few paragraphs first. That sets me up to know exactly what the chapter is aiming for: feelings, motivations, plot, etc. I then use that as the anchor for how I tweak/edit/add small details to the rest of the chapter during my final read-through. I find it helps flesh out the larger story with smaller details.

15) Which is worse: making the summary, picking the tags, or the anxiety when you post your fic?

none of the above really since nothing about posting is carved in stone. tags and summaries can always be tweaked.

16) How do you define success for your fanfic - hits? Kudos? Comments? Bookmarks? Or just if you like it?

If it's finished. Bonus points if people get something out of it, but the act of having written something feels like the biggest success.

17) Do you have a playlist for your favorite character/ship?

Not really. I have go-to soundtracks for 'writing vibes' but nothing project/ship dedicated. (though 'like we're made of glass' was definitely inspired by very specific songs)

18) If fan art was going to be made from your work, which fic would you pick and which fan artist would you like to create it?

Again there are too many jaw-droppingly talented artists in this fandom to choose just one. It would of course be a wild crazy honor to see a work inspired by one of my fics, but there's already so much in this fandom to be inspired by that it doesn't feel like a loss.

19) How many WIPs do you currently have?

*sighs* for supercorp? there are a few (five). but the one that has most of my creative down time is a supercorp wicked au i have wanted to write for years but only have the faintest wisps of an outline for.

20) What's your advice to new fanfic writers?

Do it, do it, do it!

But also, one of my favorite pieces of advice for ANY creative venture is from Marc Dalessio who made this super cool 'creative process' graph in 2010 and included this line to summarize it: The ability to see improves before technical skill, and we often have difficulty assessing honestly exactly how our work looks.

It helps during those ruts when I look at everything I've recently written/drawn/created and scrunch up my nose in snobbish disgust because it just means I'm growing in some new way and not that anything I'm doing is inherently bad.

- - - - -

tagging (respectfully and without pressure) @sideguitars @fazedlight @inkedroplets if you want some rapid-fire q's thrown your way. but also anyone who wants to take a swing, i'd be jazzed to read the different answers

[inkedroplets]

20 Questions More

A deeper and more detailed version of the 20 questions for AO3 fanfic writers. Thanks @eqt-95 for the tag

1) How do you keep getting ideas for your ship/fandom?

I always have too many ideas and not enough time to actually write.

2) Which authors inspire you in your fandom, and why are they so freakishly good?

There are way too many authors to list that I feel like would deserve a mention. I would love to give a huge thank you to all the gifmakers still in the fandom-sphere. I can probably thank gifsets for a lot of my ideas (even if I still haven't actually written them down).

3) Aside from the characters of your main ship, who are the characters you love to write?

Within the Supercorp-sphere, I love writing for Sam. I think because I would have loved to see her stick around longer in the show itself.

4) Are there pairings or tropes you know for sure you'd never write about? Which ones?

I don't want to say any trope is technically off the table but I don't think I'd ever write a true enemies to lovers fic. I slow burn enough as it is, if I tried to write that, I'd never finish it.

5) What is your writing process and why is it cursed?

My editing process is akin to pulling weeds. I like to reduce my word count by maybe 10% on the first edit. Add back maybe 5% more and repeat the process until I'm finally happy with it. Spoiler alert: I'm never happy

6) What is your favorite part of your writing process?

I'm much more a gardener when it comes to writing so I never know where the story will go exactly. So just writing the first draft is always the most fun for me. I sometimes think the characters will act a certain way and they kind of take a life of their own and I'm just along for the ride.

7) What’s the weirdest thing you’ve had to research for a fic?

I remember having to research art forgery for essentially a throwaway line but it really was interesting. E

8) Is there a particular writing rule you struggle with (grammar, spelling, tense, reality in general)?

None in particular, but that's not to say I don't make many many mistakes. I do tend to make tiny changes as I go which means that I've doubled up on some sentences in the past and I am always mortified when I find them after I've already posted the chapter.

9) What was your hardest scene to write so far and why?

Scenes with urgency give me trouble. You want the scene to breathe but you need to be aware that time is short so what the characters can say, what they want to say and what they actually get to say are so different. There was a scene like that in A Rich Girl With Issues that I kind of agonized over. How much should I let Kara and Lena speak to one another, what's important, what should be left unsaid?

10) Have your characters ever done something you didn’t expect, changing your plot completely?

All. The. Time. I never have a plan. I sometimes have scenes I want to write and hope the story veers in that direction so I can write it but it always turns out so different.

11) If you could converse with any of the characters, who would it be and why?

Probably Lena because she's the loml (Apologies to the actual loml)

12) What are some of the tropes or themes that you find yourself returning to in your writing?

I am addicted to pining. Not just pining, angsty pining. I love writing something that's so obvious to everyone else when the characters are so in love or so full of self-loathing that they can't let themselves even begin to imagine their feelings being returned.

13) What's your most important resource as a writer?

Reading. I read voraciously. I'm normally surrounded by books. Some that I pick up to just read anywhere. It's helped me find my voice and it's helped me grow as a writer (at least I think it has)

14) Can you share some of your strategies for editing and revising your work?

I do small edits as I go but nothing major. If a line sticks out that I really don't like then I usually tinker with it before I move on. I think that's not good advice in general but it bothers me too much to ignore. But if you do edit as you go, there's a lot less to polish in the final editing stages.

15) Which is worse: making the summary, picking the tags, or the anxiety when you post your fic?

I hate making the summary. I don't even know what the fic is about, how the hell am I supposed to tell other people?

16) How do you define success for your fanfic - hits? Kudos? Comments? Bookmarks? Or just if you like it?

I feel like my writing is very selfish in a way. They are stories that I want to read and I get enjoyment out of writing them. So every kind comment I get, there's always a sense of wonder because it's so strange that someone else is interested. I truly do cherish every comment and there are many I like to revisit when I'm not feeling so confident in my writing.

17) Do you have a playlist for your favorite character/ship?

I usually make a playlist for each multi-chapter fic. Some fic ideas get their start as a playlist. Please someone ask me about them, I have so many.

18) If fan art was going to be made from your work, which fic would you pick and which fan artist would you like to create it?

I have been very blessed that people have made fan art of my work and I'm still in awe. I could never even begin to describe how touched and honored I am that anybody did that. One of the pieces has been my computer background for ages. It's not an exaggeration that I cherish every single piece. I honestly don't think I could ever adequately describe how much it means to me.

19) How many WIPs do you currently have?

For Supercorp I have 15+ I do plan on actually posting them in the new year.

20) What's your advice to new fanfic writers?

I would say to write for yourself first and foremost. Sharing your art or your writing or even your head canons or ideas takes a lot of courage. It's scary to put something out there that means so much to you. I'd also advise not to get too hung up on hits/kudos/comments etc. I can't say don't look at them because I'd be a hypocrite but I would say to focus on the journey rather than the destination.

- - - - -

tagging (respectfully and without pressure) @fazedlight @autisticlenaluthor @rustingcat

[jetgirl1832]

20 Questions More

This is a deeper and more detailed version of the 20 questions for AO3 fanfic writers. @nottawriter hit me with a tag, I have been attacked lol.

1) How do you keep getting ideas for your ship / fandom? A dash of shower thoughts, with a pinch of I watched a movie and couldn't help but think... Yes, that will work. They often feel like the come from nowhere.

2) Which authors inspire you in your fandom, and why are they so freakishly good? That's not fair how dare you ask me this!!!! Uhhh I'm mostly reading Supercorp stuff these days sooo... @jazzfordshire, @mycatismyeditor, @fazedlight, @innamorament0, @scribblingpunk, @fyonahmacnally to name a few. AAAAND my co-author and a vast array of things @tomatopudding! Why? Idk, I just get drawn a lot to these works and think they're lovely, and I love their depictions of these characters I love.... with @tomatopudding we just vibe very well, sharing the same five brain cells helps.

3) Aside from the characters of your main ship, who are the characters you love to write? If we're talking Supergirl... That's so hard, but I might have to say Brainy and Nia if really pressed... and Alex. I really enjoy Alex.

Otherwise, my other faves include all of the Les Amis from Les Miserables (if you know you know), specifically Courfeyrac and Marius and their hilarious dynamic. Other faves include Eliza Schuyler-Hamilton, Eponine Thenardier and... This could go on for a very long time, are you sure you have time?

4) Are there pairings or tropes you know for sure you’d never write about? Which ones? Not putting Kara and Lena together just makes me sad... So Supercorp ftw all the way, they are my top (I am a lot more amenable in other fandoms I've written for)

Tropes... I'm unlikely to do Omega-verse, I haven't done it and I can't see myself starting even if I sometimes read it.

5) What is your writing process and why is it cursed?

When I worked in retail I wrote on stupid little scraps and probably lost about 75% of them. Sometimes the method is hand writing, and then typing and making edits during that process as well. The handwritten can vary drastically from the typed draft lol.

I tend to fly by the seat of my pants unless someone is keeping me in line. I'm pretty darn chaotic.

I doubt myself a lot, so I always think whatever I write is garbage no matter how much proof there is that's not true. Also, sometimes I get burnt out, or my muse dies and then I feel terrible. Yay.

6) What is your favorite part of your writing process? Falling down rabbit holes, looking into fun topics. Likely ending up on a government watch list for the stuff I've searched up over the years

7) What’s the weirdest thing you’ve had to research for a fic? Uhhh.... hmm. I have no idea what the weirdest is lol. Cause it's on my mind, probably looking up what types of wood are easiest to chop, and why. (There is definitely weirder, but I don't remember right now).

8) Is there a particular writing rule you struggle with (grammar, spelling, tense, reality in general)? Commas. They hate me, and I hate them.

9) What was your hardest scene to write so far and why? Oof. Uhhh... This is so hard! Honestly there is a lot of stuff in my co-written very long series Hamilton Family Album that was *a lot* between research and feels.

Especially when you're co-author hits you with unexpected feels out of nowhere that you weren't anticipating (YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID).

10) Have your characters ever done something you didn’t expect, changing your plot completely? Of course, they have. It happens all the time.

11) If you could converse with any of the characters, who would it be and why? Ohhh... Hands down Kara and Lena, I wish they could be my friends and we could hang out. Why? I think that they are absolutely incredible, wonderful and I could just sing their praises for ever.

12) What are some of the tropes or themes that you find yourself returning to in your writing? Oooo, I'm a sucker for fluffy romances, and I've been dabbling in smut recently. Other themes for me can be like found family is a really popular one for me.

Since I've written both a lot of Les Mis and Hamilton stuff (among other similar things) I've done a lot of "Modern AU's" as well, which are uhhh varied to say the least. If I can treat anything they way the treat most Shakespeare pieces these days I do it.

13) What’s your most important resource as a writer? Asking for help! Soundboarding with other writers, I love doing it. It helps me make sense of my ideas... Or decide they're maybe too out there (almost never lol)

14) Can you share some of your strategies for editing and revising your work? Reading it out loud, I have a hard time noticing errors otherwise. Asking someone you trust to look it over as well, take your time and double and triple check if you're unsure about something.

15) Which is worse: making the summary, picking the tags, or the anxiety when you post your fic? D. All of the Above

16) How do you define success for your fanfic - hits? Kudos? Comments? Bookmarks? Or just if you like it? I try to just write for myself, usually because I haven't seen something like it and think it should exist. I do really enjoy getting comments if only because I'm always curious to hear what readers think about my work.

17) Do you have a playlist for your favorite character / ship? I don't, and if I did it would be odd... I'm the most massive theater nerd. I do have songs that I think fit the vibes, and some shows I listen to have more apt things than others. Or if it's Les Mis it's the whole dang album lol.

Supercorp things if anyone is curious (and wondering how odd it could get): Mercury Rising from Lizzie, Come Home With Me, Anyway the Wind Blows, Wait for Me and Wedding Song from Hadestown, In A Crowd of Thousands from Anastasia, Origin of Love from Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Maybe I introduced you to something fun today.

18) If fan art was going to be made from your work, which fic would you pick and which fan artist would you like to create it? Oh dear... I don't know. The thing I'd love to see art for isn't up yet and I just think it would be fun but it will be called What Was I Made For... And we're gonna leave at that for now.

19) How many WIPs do you currently have? I'm finishing up You've Got New Followers (One chapter left!), I think three other WIP's (two more plotted than others) and my WIP for May-Hem... So five?

20) What’s your advice to new fanfic writers? Don't be afraid just because you've never done it before. That's why fanfic is amazing. You can do what you want and in reality no one can stop you, just make sure you're having fun.

My fics: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JetGirl1832/works?page=1

Tagging but no pressure: @tomatopudding and @innamorament0

[justajsworkshop]

Hi, are you still doing Tom's 48 hour ask and answer challenge? What changes have you seen so far?

hey! im notoriously terrible with upkeeping challenges for a specific amount of time tbh. basically do them as long as it feels good for me. and rn, regular affirming is starting to feel better. tho, i still love the asked and answered style here and there.

the biggest change i’ve experienced in the past few days is that i now know myself wholly and completely as god. im not entirely sure when the switch flipped, but it suddenly became blaring obvious to me. i dont really care about the manifested experience anymore—not in the sense that i use the physical experience to measure success, progress, or results. or that im waiting for it to change to prove anything to me. all i care about is who i know myself to be.

when i have doubts or old story that pop up, im unafriad. it’s so easy for me to say “that life is over; everything is different now.” i do not fear nonfulfillment. i do not care about when or how long it manifests because its all already mine here and now. i have the faith of the centurion that i am who i say i am, as he said in that clip from the chosen, “anything you command will happen in this world; i know it.”

i have this freakishly calm peace about me. when doubts arise, i still affirm. there’s some scripture about jesus continuing to proclaim things for others to hear, not for himself. i know exactly what he’s talking about. it’s something tom’s talked about in the raising of lazarus. i speak the truth as god to lay my old self to rest. i die daily and rise anew.

at this point, i just completely accept and understand the truth that i need only me, that I AM all that is. i lack nothing because i have everything. the kingdom is within me because i am the kingdom now and forevermore. so, I’ll affirm for specific stuff here and there, mostly what my physical mind latches onto to claim is a “problem.” but otherwise, nothing has given me more than affirming “i am god/the lord/the law/source/reality, and there is no other.” i’ve also been saying the christ within me has risen” just because it’s totally true.

[xplrvibes]

Opinion on the latest episode?

So, I watched it last night before I went to bed, woke up this morning and went through a whole busy day of work and literally just had a few minutes to sit down and think about it.

And you know what I came up with?

It was kind of weird, lol.

Not bad weird, not good weird...just weird.

I don't even quite know why I found it so weird, really. I thought the guest stars - Niki and George - were probably the best guests they've had on so far. They were both humorous without being rude/annoying/too much, they took it seriously and George, while somewhat skeptical, was very respectful in his skepticism and didn't belittle anything that was going on, they were both mostly calm and down to participate...I mean, who could ask for more?

I answered an ask about this earlier, but Niki and Colby's vibes really mesh up well, from a pseudo-psychic perspective (and before anyone has kittens - I am not even remotely hinting at some kind of weird shipping thing here. That is not the school I go to). I don't know why they had to be tied up in order to do what they do - methinks that was just Sam living out some kind of weird Sam fantasy that only Sam could explain to people (I'm kidding...maybe), but I think the energy they can create just works really well together.

I also found the whole thing at the end with the priestess and the Tarot reading very interesting, because of course I did. I find that stuff fascinating, lol.

But seriously? It is all well documented how Ashley (Pythian Priestess) gave them a ready back in January that was a) not good and b) came freakishly true, so when she sat down and gave them another reading for their next 6 months (which, this was filmed around Aug 6thish, meaning they are now almost halfway through their 6 month period here), I had good feelings that their reading was about as accurate as it could get.

And, are we allowed to point out that Sam got the fuck boy card? Or no?

I think what I found weird was just how many...rituals they jammed into this thing. "Hey, lets go sit in a Reynolds Wrap tent for no reason!" "Hey, now lets tie Niki and Colby up back to back like a couple of hostages!" "Ok, now we're gonna go downstairs and play the mirror picture game!" "Alright, now we're going to do a homemade Ouija Board followed by a homemade quasi-exorcism!"

Like, why?

Also, for their challenges...I have opinions on those (and I have asks about them, so I will get more in depth in the asks), but I guess my two main questions are:

Why was Sam so pressed about going in the basement, when he was quite content to run skipping down there by himself at 3am a few days prior?

Why did Colby decide to blindfold himself while he was alone in the woods by a bridge that he absolutely could've fallen off of? Sam never asked him to do that (unless I totally missed that part). Is he...you know...ok?

Overall, the challenges were fine. Sam's went on a little too long and included way too much of him spending the whole time thinking Colby was fucking with him while Colby was upstairs fully anticipating a cancelation and pre-apologizing to the fans for leaving Sam's ass in the basement in the first place. Colby's was just...weird. I just do not understand the point of the blindfold, or of Sam being on the Estes Method via phone. If Colby's blindfolded ass fell in the water and drowned, Sam wouldn't have known or have been able to help anyway, so what purpose did that serve, truly?

I know, they got to face their fears and do something spooky and that's fine and all...it was just weird.

At the end of the day, I found some parts of it really fun, some parts interesting, and some parts fucking weird. Overall, I'd give it a 6/10.

It's been an adventurous ride, for sure!

[goldenchildminmin]

|| Ophelia & Minho ||

“Thank you so much for going out of your way to come here! I know Ashmore is so far-flung, next time I will send a car for you!” Minho chirped in his lovely sing-song voice as he greeted Rankle’s dear friend and now hopefully his too, waiting for her to arrive under the spacious carport covered in Boston ivy at the front of his large Ashmore estate. The place, although large as most homes in this neighborhood were, could be easily missed, as it was almost entirely surrounded by dense trees and tall hedge. If the circumstances were different, he would’ve flown forward to deliver air kisses upon each of Ophelia’s cheeks, but Minho was fretful, wary of his exposed fae features he was no longer able to glamour over. Long, pointed ears twitched subtly, drooping a little as if with some hidden, unprovoked submission.

“Let’s go inside! Ah, watch your step, watch your step!” He warned, offering his hand to her if she needed it, so he would help her walk over the blue stone pathway sticking out of the finely ground white gravel paving his driveway. The hand reaching out to her uncurled freakishly long fingers with an extra fourth knuckle in each digit, every bit of light caught on the skin reflecting off minuscule golden freckles littering what was exposed of his body through an impeccably arranged all-designer outfit he wore. “I thought we would enjoy our time in the back gardens, what do you think of that? I think you will like it, I have so many wild spider plants planted, they make the air smell as fresh as a spring breeze!” He tried his best to appear as though nothing was out of the ordinary, like it was his intention to be this way right now and like he did not mind displaying his true appearance in front of non-faeries, lest he made anyone aside from himself uncomfortable with his insecurities.

However, with her newfound ability, Minho’s true thoughts would be as clear as daylight to Ophelia - ‘I hope she does not find me absolutely repulsive…’

@opheliasflood​