#actually just gonna shove a whole book in there

[whytheylosttheirminds]

happy birthday, baby (part one: birthday girl)

(boyfriend!rafe x girlfriend!reader two-shot)

summary it's your first birthday as rafe's girlfriend, and he's desperate to show you just how special you are to him...

content fluff! smut! 18+ minors do not interact!

-----------------ꪆৎ‎---------------------

“It’s too much, Rafe!”

The pile of presents in front of you is outrageous. Bows and bags and big, meticulously wrapped packages.

“Never too much for my girl,” he stands back, beaming as he watches you take in the display with your mouth agape.

“I don’t even know which one to open first,” you muse.

“Any of ‘em. Just not,” he steps forward and plucks one bag from the pile, “this one. This one’s for last.”

You eye him suspiciously as he sets the bag on the kitchen counter, out of reach. 

“What surprises do you have planned, Cameron?”

“If I told you,” he smiles, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms around your torso, “then they wouldn’t be surprises. Now pick a present or we’re gonna be here all day.”

“Excuse me, I will not be rushed on my birthday,” you say defiantly.

“Not rushing you,” he drops a kiss on your shoulder, “just got a lot of shit planned for ya, I don’t want to waste any time,” he clarifies.

“There’s more?” You turn in his grasp, eyes wide.

He’d already woken you up with breakfast in bed, and an adorably off-key, groggy voiced rendition of ‘Happy Birthday.’ His bedroom was full of flowers and balloons, including two big pink ones displaying your new age. After you ate the fluffiest pancakes you’d ever had in your life, he slipped a heavy diamond necklace around your neck, kissing your shoulders as he clasped it. Giving him a million thank you kisses, you told him you loved your present, and he chuckled, leading you to the kitchen to the mountain of additional presents you’re now ogling.

“So much more. I’ve got a whole day planned for you, so let’s get to it,” he said with a quick tap on your ass, making you giggle.

“Okay, okay! I want…that one,” you point to the largest package in the back of the pile, “‘cause it’s big.”

“Huh, where have I heard that before?” He pretends to think, a smug smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

You roll your eyes, shoving him back by his shoulder and scoffing, “you’re on another one today, I swear.”

“Just excited to celebrate you,” he grins, placing a quick kiss on your cheek before pulling the biggest present out of the pile.

You sit in one of his dining chairs, opening present after present, each one delighting you more than the last. Flashy and expensive; a new bag, two pairs of shoes that have been on your wishlist forever, jewelry until you’re dripping in diamonds and precious gems. Sweet and sentimental; a printed album of all your instagram posts since the two of you got together almost a year ago, a gold ring engraved with a handwritten message, a crystal picture frame with a shot of the two of you on his boat at sunset. 

You wonder if it’s possible for your heart to actually burst from affection.

When only one present remains, you eye the counter quizzically, waiting for him to bring you the little bag he had set aside. Rafe just makes himself busy picking up the discarded ribbons and wrapping paper, a little blush on his face as he focuses on the chore.

“Rafe…” you try to get his attention.

“Yeah?” He leans down to pick up a bow that had fallen under the table, when he stands, you step in front of him, grabbing the trash from his hands and setting it to the side. 

“I want my last present please,” you smile, hands cupped in front of you expectantly.

He scratches the top of his buzzed head, taking a deep breath, “why don’t we wait? I booked you a spa appointment so you should probably get ready…”

“Rafe,” you cross your arms over your chest, “why are you being all squirmy?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t know if you’ll like it, I don’t want you to think…anything.”

You had no idea what he meant by ‘think anything,’ but this whole you not liking something he took the time to pick out for you business was just nonsense. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you stood up on your tiptoes to place a soft, steady kiss on his lips. 

“Well I do know. I’m gonna love it, because you got it for me, and I love you,” you ease his worry.

You had told each other you loved each other for the first time a little over a month ago, but it still feels like fireworks everytime one of you says it. Nothing in life is sweeter than the sound of his quick, reassuring “love ya” before hanging up the phone, or his whispered, emotional “I love you so much,” when he’s buried inside you late at night.

“I love you too,” he grins.

“Good,” you place one more kiss on his lips, “then I would like my last present now, please.”

“Yes ma’am,” he smirks, walking you toward the kitchen, kissing you all the way as he backs you up step by step.

By the time you reach the kitchen island, you’ve almost forgotten about the striped gift bag waiting for you there, distracted by his lips and the cute little smooches they’re making against your mouth with each step.

He reaches back for the bag without pulling away, holding it behind his back as he ducks down for one last peck before swinging it forward and presenting it to you.

“We can take it back if you don’t li-��� you silence him with a finger to his lips.

“Shhh, it’s my last present of the day, let me enjoy this,” you request.

He nods solemnly, waiting until you were looking away, too distracted by the tissue paper in the bag to see the smirk growing on his lips as he thought about his actual last present for you. A rush of nerves shoot through him as he pictures the little black velvet pouch sitting in his nightstand drawer. 

Obeying your request, he bites his tongue as you pull out the rest of the tissue paper. When you finally see what’s sitting in the bag, a slow, delighted smile spreads across your face. You don’t pull the gift out, just bite your lip as you blink up at him through your lashes. His cheeks are adorably pink. 

He’s never bought you lingerie before. He’s seen you in plenty of it, though. Hell, he cleared a whole drawer for you like a month after you started dating, telling you to take as much space as you needed as long as he was the only one who got to see you in it. But the thought of him actually going into the store and asking the sales lady for exactly what he wanted to see you in, surely pulling out his black card and telling her the price tag was not an issue, made your belly tighten with lust.

“Ah I see,” you smirk, “it’s a present for me and for you.”

He nods with a lick of his lips, “you gonna try it on for me?”

You lead him to the chair you were sitting in to open presents, guiding him to sit and placing one more kiss on his cheek before excitedly padding to the bedroom to get changed. He watches you go with his tongue pressed into his cheek, readying himself, wondering how the fuck someone like him got lucky enough to be with someone like you.

Rafe had picked out the cutest little set for you. Matching floral bra and panties, sheer and constructed with hardly any fabric at all, a matching garter belt and thigh high sheer stockings. You gasp when you see the price tag, understanding now why the fabric feels so nice and the stitching is so intricate. 

You take your time pulling it on, both to be gentle with the expensive pieces and to tease the man waiting for you in the other room. The thought of him squirming in that chair wondering what the hell was taking so long makes you giggle.

“The fuck are you laughing about in there?” He calls out impatiently from the other room. “You’re killin’ me!” 

You laugh hard at that, head falling back in delight as you clip the last strap of the garter into place. You add a pair of kitten heels to tie it all together and run your fingers through your hair, one quick look in the mirror to appreciate yourself before stepping slowly from the room.

“Sorry to make you wait, baby,” you tilt your head apologetically and step towards him tauntingly. 

Rafe just smiles and looks to the ceiling, shaking his head slowly in disbelief.

“What?” You ask as you approach, hands finding his and bringing them to rest on either side of your waist.

His thumbs trace circles into your skin, “just don’t know how I got so fuckin’ lucky. Must’ve done something right in a past life.”

Your skin goes hot at his words, and the way his eyes are skimming over your body like you’re the eighth wonder of the world.

“Nah, I think you just did a lot of things right in this life,” you pull his arms so he’ll rise to his feet.

Rafe lifts his arm with his hand still holding yours, spinning you with his pointer finger like a ballerina, memorizing every inch of you as you twirl for him.

“No man could possibly be good enough to deserve you, baby,” he responds, his large, rough hands running over your bare hips, guiding you to hop up and wrap your legs around his waist. “I’m just the luckiest guy in the world.”

You kiss him, too overwhelmed by the way he’s looking at you and holding you up to say anything in response. No one has ever made you feel so special, so wanted. He’d kneel down and kiss your feet if you asked him to. But that’s not what you want right now.

“Need you, Rafe,” you mumble against his lips, legs squeezing him tighter, hands splayed on the back of his head like you’re trying to permanently seal his mouth to yours, “please.”

“You don’t gotta beg, angel,” he coos, “I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Cause it’s my birthday?” You tease.

“No. I’ll give you anything you want every day of your fucking life,” he swears, “you deserve the world.”

But you don’t want the world, you just want him.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you sigh, lowering your core over his growing hardness, playfulness gone and replaced by frenzied need.

In response, he shifts to hold you up with one arm, using the other to sweep aggressively at the counter and knock all its contents to the floor chaotically. You love him wild like this, complete disregard for the dishes and various items he’s just sent flying across the kitchen, too drunk on you to even attempt making it to the bedroom. 

He drops you onto the counter, not too hard to hurt, but just hard enough to make your tits bounce and a little “hmph!” to rise from your chest. You’re pulling him to you in seconds, nails clawing at his shoulders and the back of his head as his lips devour yours. He slots his hips between your knees, forcing your legs to fall open for him.

“Gonna make you feel so good, birthday girl,” he promises, chest hovering over you powerfully, lowering you slowly until you’re laying down on the counter, your legs dangling off the edge. 

He kisses down the column of your throat, nipping and nibbling all the way as he hooks his fingers to slip under the straps of the garter belt, pulling until the clasps break away from the top of your stockings with a snap!

You gasp, “you’re gonna break my present!”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he shakes his head, bent in half to lower his mouth down your body, sucking purple splotches into the sensitive skin of your stomach, claiming you with every mark.

When he’s satisfied with his artwork, he lifts himself up, piercing blue eyes consuming you with an adoration you’ve never experienced before. You writhe a little under his hungry gaze, and his eyes wander to the panties he gifted you, corners of his mouth perking in a grin. His hand snakes up your thigh and he sweeps his thumb over your covered slit without warning, making you gasp and arch off the cold counter.

“Looks like you already made a mess of your present anyway,” his eyes twinkle with mischief as he spreads your wetness through the fabric.

“Can’t help it,” you whine under the pressure, “you always make me so fucking wet.”

He’s desperate to taste you, lowering to his knees and dragging your panties down with him. Gripping your hips, he pulls you to the edge of the counter, closer to his mouth. He nips at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, the sting outweighed by the pleasure. 

You arch toward him, desperate to feel his mouth on you, but his fingers find you first. He spreads you, groaning a strained ‘fuckkkk’ at the sight. He gathers your slick onto his fingers so slowly, so deliberately, it’s driving you insane. 

Finally, finally, he lowers his mouth and licks, ever so gently, up your center. You’re on fire, the cold marble counter below you doing little to cool your spiked body temperature. 

Between deliberate licks he whispers praises, his tongue and voice taking turns worshiping you.

“Do you know I belong to you?” He confesses, his other hand gripping the edge of the counter so hard it almost cracks. “Do you understand that you fucking own me?”

“You talk so pretty, baby,” you moan, losing your grasp on language as he sends lightning bolts of pleasure shooting through your body, “love that mouth.”

“It’s yours,” he promises, finally lapping at your clit with a pointed tongue, “it’s all yours, everything I’ve got.”

“Just want you!” you cry out when he pulls the sensitive bud into his mouth and sucks hard.

“You have me, ‘m not going anywhere,” he says after releasing your clit with a pop. His middle finger, already soaked from you, dips into your entrance slowly. “You’re my everything, forever.”

Rafe continues to wrap you in soliloquies of praise as his other hand kneads the skin of your stomach reverently, like a potter molding his clay.

It’s these promises that make your head spin, drowning in the tapestry he weaves with his words until all you can think, all you know, is that you love him. When a second finger enters you and his mouth finds the spot he knows so well, everything in the world fades. The only thing that means anything is this man and the way he makes you feel.

His fingers twist and twirl inside you while his mouth works your clit. You’re beside yourself, feeling your release creep closer and closer with each flick of his tongue. You grab the edge of the counter top for purchase, but it’s not enough. Your hands paw at his head, wishing there was something more to ground you. 

You love his buzzcut, you had an appointment in your shared calendar each month for him to dutifully sit on a stool in the bathroom while you redid it with the electric clippers, but in this moment you wish for the first time that he’d grow it out. You tuck the thought away for later.

He loves the way you’re clawing at his scalp, and clenching around his fingers, knowing you’re close like he knows everything about you. He grabs one of your hands, offering his to you so you can squeeze as hard as you need to, loving the pain as he pushes you to the edge.

You cry out his name when you come, nearly breaking the bones in his fingers. He doesn’t stop until the very last wave of ecstasy rolls through you, his body hovering over yours as he soothes you through the cool down.

“You have no idea what you mean to me,” he whispers into your collarbone, following the vulnerable words with a shaky kiss.

“I think I have some idea,” your palm glides over his scalp, where you were just leaving scratches, inspecting to make sure you hadn’t done too much damage. “Because of how much you mean to me.”

He just shakes his head, his buzzed hair tickling your chin.

You both rise from the counter, Rafe straightening your lingerie set and taking in his gift to you one more time. He stands between your legs, fists on the counter as he leans forward on flexed arms.

“How am I supposed to top this?” You wonder aloud, hands smoothing over his shoulders and your head tilting in that adorable way he’s obsessed with.

“What do you mean?” He puzzles.

“When your birthday comes around,” you explain, “you’ve set the bar so high.”

Rafe smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. His gaze wanders from you as he pulls back slightly.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he shakes his head.

“Are you joking? And miss the chance to celebrate you?” 

“We- I don’t really do birthdays,” he says, and before you can pry any further he adds, “plus yours isn’t even close to over yet.”

Rafe lifts you effortlessly from the counter, making you yelp in surprise. You rest your head on his shoulder as he carries you to the bedroom, thinking obsessively about the way he accidentally said ‘we.’

Your heart breaks picturing younger Rafe, no birthday candles to blow out on his big day, no crowd of friends and family singing to him, no one to make him understand how special and worth celebrating he is. 

No, that just wouldn’t do. You start planning the second he falls asleep that night, determined to make his next birthday the best he’s ever had.

-----------------ꪆৎ‎---------------------

part 2: birthday boy coming soon!

for more boyfriend!rafe see my masterlist ♡

remember! writers live off replies and reblogs, don’t forget to feed your faves 😘

[zu8her]

winter break

pairings — reader x nanami, reader x geto, reader x gojo summary — winter break, you and the trio have some fun in a cabin. tags — university au, winter break, pussy eating, edging, quickie, fem reader, she kinda passed around, masturbation??, mentions of consensual nudes, fucking of an academic rival, over 2k words notes — back with an actual fic, it's been a while. hope you like this, maybe prt.2 with gangbang??? also taking requests

Boots sink into the snow as you walk. You groan adjusting the big gloves. Drawing a cold breath as you stare at the snow-covered forest, at the white surrounding you. Cursing yourself for volunteering to venture into the cold.

“The gloves don’t fit?” Gojo chuckles. He stops, waiting for you to catch up.

“I mean they are Geto’s.”

You shove your gloved hands into your pockets. “You don’t need help with that?” He holds firmly at the wood with one hand while pulling the already wood filled slay.

“I got it.”

Breathing, you look through the frosted forest. “I'm gonna go look for wood there,” you point.

“Cool, just stay close.” Gojo settles the wood on the slay. You venture east. Taking a breath. Finally, out of that cabin. You don’t mind their company, you just grew tired of being around people and wanted to be alone. You just— wouldn't tell them that.

So, when you found out you forgot wood, you volunteered to go out and get some outside. Along with Gojo.

The forest was bleak. Barely any colour outside, white, oak and dark green can be seen, and most animals are either hibernating or migrated elsewhere. You turn seeing a young deer sprint north. Staring down at your phone, you continue walking. Your feed bombarded with your friends on skiing trips in some random mountain overseas or back home with their families. You sigh switching to another app.

As you continue to walk, the sinking snow is replaced with a hollow platform. Before you realise, you slip on the hardened ice. Trying to steady yourself you try to move forward back to the edge.

The attempt fails when your slippery boots make you slide further back, away from land and into the misty void of the frozen lake. You watch as the dense ice separating you from the lake begins to crack under your weight.

Panicking, you call for Gojo. Desperately, calling as you stare down at the ice beneath your feet. He rushes to the lake. Letting go of the slay, he stands at the edge. His eyes widen but calm as he lays eyes on you. Tears threatening to fall as you frantically look around.

“The ice! It's-” You hastily steps forward to the same result.

“Just move forward, slowly.” He explains calmly, reaching his hand toward you.

“I can't. If I move the ice will break.” Your tears trickle down.

“I need you to try, okay?”

You take a step. When the ice continues to crack under your feet, you dart towards, to the man at the edge. He holds his arms out, climbing on the frozen lake.

Close to the edge, you feel the ice give out. A striking frost bites at your feet as your boots envelope in the freezing water of the lake. Soon follows the rest of you. The ice cold water swallowing you whole. Your fear frozen as the chill strikes at your chest. You physically cannot scream, silenced by the chilling pain. The water travels, soaking every layer that clings to your body.

Your body almost fully submerged in the water, when Gojo lunged forward and grabbed hold of your arms. “I got you,” he whispers. “I got you.”

Winter. You loved Winter. What comfort it brought you. Just lying in bed. Drinking a cup of tea. Watching your favourite shows under a weighted blanket.

It is winter break. So, you were released from the shackles of university. You looked forward to replacing your books with a screen of your choosing. Lazy, in your fluffy pink gown, thick socks and oversized slippers you’d stolen from one the men that frequent your apartment. What were they doing this winter break?

You laid on your coach, under a mountain of comforters to embrace you in warmth. Your head turns to the door when you hear familiar knocks. The men enter.

Gojo calls for you, walking to the couch. He swats in front of you taking his gloves off.

“Hey,” you mumble under the comforter. Gojo smiles, his nose red from the cold. Reaching out the blankets you cup his cold cheek. “You’re pretty cold. You wanna come in?” You hold the blankets open.

“I'm okay.” Gojo captures your hand. “God, you’re hot.”

“Did you eat anything today?” Geto questions peering into your brown eyes. When you groan and nuzzles into the comforter, does he get his answer. He frowns rolling up his sleeves entering your kitchen.

Turning, Gojo’s gaze is back on You. Adjusting his glasses, he settles next to your on the carpet.

“I have a cabin up North. I was wondering if you wanted to spend winter break there with us.”

That’s how you ended up here. Naked. In front of the fireplace, blanket over you as you shivered your ass off.

“Here you go,” You feel another blanket wrapped around you.

“Thank you, Nanami.”

Nanami. A friend from class that tagged along for this trip. You invited him, to have a friend to talk to during the trip and he was also staying on campus for winter break. He was your PhD partner, always working together for projects and an academic rival.

You watch as he rolls up the sleeves and peer into your through his glasses with a reassuring smile.

“There are only two rooms, Gojo. Why didn't you tell us?” Geto roams the cabin. “I forgot. Last time I was here I was like 10.” Gojo argues checking the kitchen cabinets.

“Who are you going to sleep with?” Nanami questions adjusting his duffel bag. They all pause. Eyes going from Nanami to you. They stand in anticipation. “You. Wouldn't want to break up the duo.” You smile, nudging Nanami with your shoulder.

He settled next to you on the carpet. “Thank you.” You mumbled taking a sip of your tea. You admired the way his blonde strands fell gracefully across his face. Your eyes trail his arms.

Your eyes meet his when he turns his head away from the fire and sighs. “Do you need me to get you some clothes?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll get it myself.”

You had to share a bed. Which was fine. One problem was that You typically slept in a shirt and underwear, and you were cold. Nanami hugged you, pressing his body against yours. You couldn’t stop it, you wanted to, but your panties were getting soaked making you squirm. He was so warm. And he smelt nice. His hand was appropriately place on your stomach and his crotch so close but not against you. He kept you warm and that was all he was doing. You kept slightly moving trying to calm the ache between your thighs, to no avail. “Please stop moving,” he plead, moving closer to fully wrap himself around you, his crotch now pressed against you, yet he did not move. Desperate, you skilfully slide your hand into your underwear and rub at your clit. This drove you to accidentally grind against him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t sleep.”

When Nanami attempts to move his hand from your stomach, he finds that it is caged by your arm between your thighs. So, to help you relieve yourself. He rolls the vibrating wand over your clit repeatedly as you feel your orgasm wash over you.

“Keep quiet, love” he mewled as he rolled your wand onto your clit. You quietly whimpered groping at the sheets as he slid his fingers in and out of your folds. His eyes darting from each tantalising detail to another. The way you buck your hips against him. The wet sheets. Your mouth agape practically drooling. Your dazed eyes desperately peering into his. Your hard pecks under your (his) shirt (you borrowed).

“There you go,” he cooed easing the wand off your clit. “Is this why you invited me?” He looks down at you and your heaving chest. He rubs your thigh as you twitch, exhaling. “You’ll do that for me again, won’t you?”

Bent over, the sink. You look through the mirror to the white-haired man adjusting his glasses as he propped himself against your leaking cunt. He reveals a smirk, running his fingers hair as he looks at you through the mirror. Teasingly, he rubs his cock upwards against your clit and cunt. “Fuck, Gojo. Just put it in.”

It had been a day or two since, Nanami. He made you cum excessively. After your 3rd, you could tell, he did not do it to make your sleep anymore but for his enjoyment. What really got to you was that he never fucked you. You begged, oh you begged for it, embarrassingly so but he said no. He went as far to sit in front you the next night with his cock out just stroking it while you watched. It looked so pretty, you wanted it near you, in your mouth, fuck, inside you. But you could not do anything but watch as his moans filled the room and his cum landed on the wooden floor and hands. So, here you are. Pent up, you pulled Gojo into the bathroom.

“Uhm? What was that darling?” He leans against your ear. Reaching down you eases in his cock in. “Fuck,” he groans slowly rocking his hips into yours. You grip the the sink, watching as you get fucked through the mirror.

Oh, he’s been waiting for this. To finally get his hands on you and that pretty pussy of yours. Truthfully, he planned this trip to have you all for himself. Geto too, but himself mostly. Just think about it: comfy in a cabin, warm under the blankets, he and Geto’d spend day and night just fucking you, breeding you. That’s what a good girl like you deserved after all, to be fucked full of cock and cum. You’d love that.

But then you invited Nanami—

You talked about him a lot. He wasn’t stupid, he could see that you liked him, the same way you liked them. Worse, you decided to sleep with him in one room. They heard you, you know. You were not exactly quiet with your moaning. In fact, they stroked their cocks to it. Even, pulling out videos of you in their catalogue to jerk off to. So, when you dragged him into the bathroom for a quick fuck, he’d be a fool to say no.

Watching, as his sly smirk turns into a sloe of cusses and throaty groans. He hastily takes off his glasses promptly throwing them in the sink as he buries his head in the crook of your neck. You gently tug at his white locks. Wrapping his arm around your waist thrusting with deep slow strokes nibbling at your neck.

“Just cum for me, baby. Can you do that for me, please? Fuck.”

As you came, he held you, kissing your temple, gently rocking his hips forward until you stopped shaking. He pulled out stroking his cum glistened cock. “Do you need some time?” He breathed.

“Yeah, please just give me a second.”

He gave you quick kiss on your temple, pressing his chest against your back, stroking your sides. That was not enough you thought as he cleaned you up. You needed more, way more.

“Nanami and Gojo went out to get some things. We ran out.” Geto explained taking a seat next to you on the couch. He threw his head back in exhaustion, placing the cloth on his forehead, taking deep breathes as he untied his apron.

You watched as his breathe slowed and went back to reading on your phone. You looked back up when you felt him move closer, resting his head on your thighs sneaking his arms around your waist. “What are you reading?” he mumbled against you. “Material we're covering next semester.”

You soon twirled his hair between your fingers. Casually scratching and pulling at his hair. He sighed at your touch. You caught his occasional glance. He would look up for a moment and utter nothing. This continued until you felt him withdraw his hold of your waist and sneak his arm under your thighs, pushing them up and open.

He missed this. Having you in his arms. Like Gojo he thought he’d have all the time in the world to have his hands on you, yet he has barely touched you. Your big soft thighs. Your tummy. Your whole body. God, he craved it. He missed smelling you, touching you, tasting you, marking you. You made his insatiable need worse. Despite the cold weather you’d wear your basic tank tops with your tits in full display. That and seeing you sleepy and comfy in his sweaters just did something to him.

Yesterday you took a shower together, it felt so domestic. To have him help you put your shower cap on because you did not want to get your braidings wet, to have you guide him in the shower by his waist, to feel your hands through his hair as you applied shampoo, to have him wash your back and you his, to have you your plush body pressed against him as hot water ran down your bodies, and to press you against the wall to give you a few kisses before leaving the shower, it felt so, right. A glimpse of a life eternally with you, so safe, comfortable and domestic.

Frankly, it made him horny. He resorted to his catalogue of you as well. Specially, the video of you slowly slamming your ass on his cock with your back turned to him because you were too overstimulated and tired to move any faster but too horny to stop. Even the memory gets him hard, you were so cute and needy. But that was not enough he needed more. And he’d start by wrapping his mouth around your clit and having your cum drip down his chin.

Apparent, what he's doing you look down at him. “Can I?” He motions, tugging at the knot of your fluffy gown. You nod. “You can continue reading, just let me—” he lifts your knee rubbing at your clothed clit and placing gentle kisses along your inner thighs.

Feeling him pull down your underwear, you adjust as you feel his mouth on clit making your grip his hair tighter. The feverish ravishment of your cunt had you discarding your phone and was fully immersed in the sexual proclivity. Your orgasm came faster than expected and he took all of it, taking time to clean your cum off. Letting it slide down his chin.

When Geto looks up, he’s met with a gaze of need: more.

[tciddaemina]

an annotated igris, for all your come all ye mighty needs. i drop so much armor jargon in the fic that i figured i ought to make some sort of guide. theres a bit of confusion about what exactly his tasset/fauld/cuisse situation is, because as far as i can see what would be his tasset just sort of merges into the plates of his cuisse, so we’re just gonna hand wave that

[m0th-gh0st]

society if wf actually leaned into its religous themes and character arcs>>>>

[lovebugism]

how abt eddie x shy reader , she meet’s wayne accidentally & she brings like sm food for the week he LOVES HER but shes so shy

a request deep from the archives that i haven't stopped thinking about since i got it hahah please enjoy xoxo — you spend a fluffy morning in with the munsons (established relationship, fluff, 1.2k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Eddie rouses from his sleep like a king on a sunken-in couch. 

Saturday morning cartoons play on the TV just ahead of him, mostly on mute ‘cause you’ve got the radio going in the kitchen. Something soft and soulful and too low for him to hear. The trailer swells with the scent of something sweet, of syrup and cooked sugar. 

Speaking of sweet…

His flushed cheek rubs against the arm of the couch when he looks up to find you. He can see you just over the top of the counter, like a scene from a movie. You’ve got a bowl of something wedged in your elbow, and you stir at it with your free hand — half-distracted because your nose is stuck in an open recipe book on the counter. Your glasses fall slowly down your nose. You try to push them up again with your shoulder, but they slip back down a second later.

Your gentle humming fills his ears, and Eddie figures this is what heaven must be like. There’s no greater nirvana than this.

He rises and stretches and walks the very short distance to the kitchen. Still warm with sleep, he wraps himself around you, chest flush to the expanse of your back. “Whatcha doin’?” he lilts, muffled into your sweater.

“Cookin’,” you answer in the same tone, only softer and a little more sheepish.

Eddie breathes hard once. You think you feel him smiling. “Dumb question, huh?”

“Did you sleep good?” 

“Too good to be passed out on the couch for an hour.” He lifts his head to prop his chin on your shoulder. It bobs against you with every word. “You were supposed to be sleeping with me, by the way.”

“I tried. But then I wanted to make you breakfast.”

“Correction. You wanted to make Wayne breakfast.”

Your giggling is as soft and sweet as the cinnamon concoction you’re stirring at. “Well, I don’t want either of you to starve, actually. So sorry for making sure the Munson’s are taken care of.”

Eddie’s chest swells. His heart starts to warm so much he’s scared it might burst. He tucks his face back into your neck and holds you tighter. “Don’t apologize, sweet thing. ‘M just being stupid.”

“That nickname’s not gonna stick, Eds,” you tease, tilting your head until your cheek meets his wild hair. “You can stop trying now.”

He scoffs and pulls back from you. His eyes, still softly swollen with sleep, are wide and glittering. “Why not?” he shouts, a bit too loudly to be so close to your ear. “You’re sweet and you’re my thing— it’s literally the perfect nickname.”

“You’re thing?” you echo with a distant laugh. “I’m not a toy, Eds.”

“Not all the time—” His boyish giggling is followed by a scoffed breath when you elbow him with your free arm. You shove him away halfheartedly, pushing him out of the tiny kitchen. “What?!” he exclaims, laughing loudly.

“Get out of the kitchen!”

“What’d I do?”

“My french toast tastes good ‘cause it’s made with love, and you’re tainting it.”

“How? I love you more than anything in the whole wide world.” He gravitates back to you despite your efforts to keep him away. He plants a smacking kiss to your lips and grins wide when he pulls away. “See? Now it’ll taste extra sweet.”

You’re glaring at him one moment, then happily accepting another one of his kisses the next.

The front door opens, squealing in protest and rushing in the cool morning air. It’s unsurprisingly Wayne. His work boots stomp heavy on the carpet. He holds a greased hand over his forehead. “My eyes are still closed,” he jokes, voice deep and gravelly. “You two have about three seconds to stop touchin’ each other.”

Eddie scoffs but steps back from you anyway. “That was one time!” he argues boyishly. “And we weren’t even doing anything!”

Wayne laughs a sharp breath, just like Eddie had, but a little bit gruffer. He forgoes the petty banter and shoots you a smile — tightlipped, barely-there, and weighed down by the exhaustion of the graveyard shift. “How ya doin’, sweetpea?”

“Good,” you answer, shrinking into your shyness. “I’m makin’ french toast.”

“That’s my favorite,” the older man grins. “How’d you know?”

“‘Cause it’s my favorite,” Eddie insists.

“It’ll be done soon,” you tell him, all quiet in your sheepishness. “If you wanna get changed or whatever.”

Wayne heads to the hallway, stopping short in the kitchen to muss at Eddie’s curls and pat you gently on the shoulder. “Thank ya, sweetpea,” he murmurs, voice dripping with fatigue. His accent always gets real heavy when he’s tired.

“You’re welcome…”

Eddie doesn’t say anything until he hears the bathroom door shut. “So Wayne can call you sweetpea, but I can call you sweet thing?” he asks, features swirled with offense.

“It’s different!”

The boy follows you to the cabinets like a lost puppy. Then, when you have trouble reaching the vanilla extract on the top shelf, he leans over you to grab it. “No, you just have favorites,” he argues, passing you the small container.

“That’s not true!”

“Whatever,” he grumbles, still pouting as he leans against the counter beside you. He mourns the lack of your attention when you give it all to the french toast mixture on the counter. You spoon in the vanilla with a practiced touch. “…Are you staying over again tonight?” he mutters, shier than you are now.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “If it’s okay with Wayne, then—”

“Wayne! Sweet thing’s staying the night— is that okay?” Eddie shouts before you can blink. The trailer rings with the volume of his voice.

“Eddie,” you scold quietly.

The bathroom door squeaks open. A grunt sounds from the hallway, a nonverbal answer you’re not totally sure what to make of. The man returns in the pajamas he pulled from the hall closet — a thin t-shirt older than Eddie is and a pair of plaid pants.

“I’ll make dinner before your shift tonight,” you tell him with a soft grin that neither of the Munsons can say no to. “I promise.”

Wayne makes another scoffing sound. A laugh, maybe. A smile hints at the corner of his bearded mouth as he pours himself a coffee across the counter — in the painted mug Eddie made him for Father’s Day, several years ago now. 

“Well— In that case, I’m afraid I have to insist on you stayin’, sweet pea.”

“Thanks, Mr. Munson.”

“Call me Wayne,” he tells you, playfully chiding in a parental sort of way. He gives you a pointed look over the cup he sips from and heads back towards the living room. “You’re feedin’ us too good to be so polite all the time.”

You smile to yourself and laugh a quiet, slightly forced laugh.

The sofa squeaks when Wayne settles onto it, sprawling out the same way Eddie had before. Too tired to reach for the remote on the coffee table, he watches He-Man re-runs with heavy eyelids.

“Alright, sweet thing— what do you need me to do?” Eddie asks with a clap of his hands, making a very pointed effort not to drop the nickname. You get all flustered when he calls you that — smiling softly to yourself and then ducking your gaze to hide it from him. You’ll have to pry the name from his cold, dead hands.

You turn to peer at him from beneath your lashes. “You dip the bread, and I’ll fry ‘em?”

“Sounds like a plan, sweet thing.”

“Eddie.”

[anantaru]

friends with benefits with alhaitham but he's so awfully blunt about it— simply put, words cannot possibly describe how deeply you're regretting your decision to ever step into this sort of relationship with him.

hey now, in all seriousness, you don't regret it.

"are you gonna come over tonight?" alhaitham hums, a little aloof, without breaking the attention of his gaze on his newly purchased book, "to have sex?" he can't be bothered to give it much more details at the moment.

this time though, it's more urgent, in any other case he wouldn't say the quiet part out loud like that.

alas, he continues, "i got the whole place to myself," as he hints before continuing to flip through the pages and pretend like he hasn't just said all of this to you.

to see your face, you were certain he would immediately get the hint, oh well, scrap that, he probably knows how it's coming across anyways.

in alhaitham's personal opinion, there was no specific, logical reasoning as to why he should sweet-talk around this subject, in fact, the both of you have agreed on having this special friendship— so making it overly complicated with insincere flattery would actually give him a migraine.

again, of all the things alhaitham could've just said, you expected this one hundred percent and over.

"don't just say it like that!" you yell and shove at his shoulder, "what if someone hears you?"

"who? there's no one here," there goes that handsome, unbothered voice again, never without an even more handsome smile— the very one making your stomach twist heavily, eyes gleam vividly and legs turn into jelly.

alhaitham knows exactly what your behavior means, or your lack of response now. he determines it by the amount of time you require to find a rebuttal to say, well or, yell back at him— alas, he'll hear you scream tonight anyways, so those few shouts now aren't going to hurt him.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[crimsonteaaddict]

Delulu Yandere!Werewolf!Boyfriend who wants nothing more than to put his pups in his Male!Darling

Yandere!Werewolf!boyfriend who wants to get you pregnant so bad even though you can’t get pregnant and don’t have the facilities to become pregnant.

Werewolf!boyfriend who in or out of rut will pound into your whole repeatedly filling it for hours at a time whining about how he’s gonna put his pups in you.

Since you know that it’s not possible and despite trying to tell him when he wasn’t mating with you, the news only causing him to become pouty mumbling about how his mate doesn’t want his pups.

You can try and explain that your a man as much as you want, but he’ll simply agree that you are his man and his soon to be pregnant wife. Werewolves don’t actually do marriage, they just mate, so this belief that you were his wife came from the fact that you were recently reading a book where the small mate like protagonist got married and became a wife. Or at least that’s the conclusion he got from hearing about the romance from you. This will cause werewolf boyfriend to equate mate to wife, so good luck trying to tell him you’re not really a woman or married.

Werewolf!boyfriend will become very upset if enough time goes without a pup taking root in you. But not at you. No the big dope would begin pouting and questioning if he was a good enough mate.

It’s best if you do something quick, faking a pregnancy isn’t viable as depending on how delusional Werewolf!boyfriend is he may or may not write off the lack of change in your scent. If he doesn’t expect him to believe you don’t want his babies, and also expect him to chain you too his bed and begin feeding you all kinds of stuff meant to help you get pregnant.

If you choose to go a different route like leaving your cabin in the woods to go find the nice witch in the forest to help you, you’d have to do this quickly and in the hour or two werewolf!boyfriend is out hunting. This method would be successful as you would become able to carry his children.

Or better yet what if you do none of this and after a few months Werewolf!boyfriend seems to be trying to seed you less and is instead doting on you. He has suddenly begun shoving his nose to your neck every time he enters the same room as you and has somehow found a way to lessen the time you spend not in holding vicinity.

Werewolf!boyfriend has begun bringing back twice the hunt to feed you, and eventually mutter something complaining about how long it took his sperm to prepare your body.

Don’t worry you aren’t in for nine months of hell, luckily unluckily the werewolf pup gestation period is much shorter.

[wandascrush]

Breath of fresh air

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, kissing, small hurt, mention of injuries

It was so nice to finally get outside and have some fresh air. The last few days you were stuck looking out the bay window as it poured and poured. Natasha, your wife and soon to be mother of your child, was extremely overprotective and made sure while she was gone that Laura watched over you from time to time.

The Barton’s only lived less than one acre over, on a small but beautiful farm of their own with their 3 mini Barton’s. They had actually given you and Natasha the idea to live off the grid, and who better to have as neighbors than the people who had become your guys’ family.

Especially Laura, she was one of your closest confidants and you loved causing chaos with her. Being a recent agent-out-of-commission due to your pregnancy was different, especially not training as hard and sleeping in, but as your symptoms really kicked up, you were grateful for the break. Recently entering the second trimester had not been easy. It was nice having someone like Laura to talk to, who really understood.

Natasha was scheduled to come back next Wednesday, and God were you ready for her to be home. It was hard to sleep without her soft touch, the Russian lullabies she sang you and the baby every night, and the way she'd gently rest her hand on your back throughout the day as a reminder she's there for you. Sometimes she'd come home with baby clothes or an extra teddy bear she'd seen for the baby's nursery, and in those moments there was no doubt in your mind that she’d make the most beautiful mother.

As you were drinking your tea and reading your favorite piece of poetry, an extremely loud whirring sound caught your attention. Using your book as a shield from the sun, you looked up to the sky to find the Quinjet making a rocky landing in your field, swaying the grass in waves. Almost immediately, Laura came out of her house with her kids trailing behind, worry and confusion written all over their faces. You went to each others sides, "What's going on Laur? Are they okay?"

"I'm sure their fine, relax, it's gonna be okay," but you heard the breathlessness in her voice as she held you close and away from the unpredictable helicopter in the middle of your flower field.

The door to the jet slid open and revealed a group of ruffed up, exhausted Avengers. The whole pack was there from first glance: Tony, Steve, Clint, Fury, Maria, Thor, Bruce, but no- oh there's Natasha. You and Laura exhaled at the same time, half walking and half skipping to Natasha and Clint. Finally, landing in her arms again. Her hold was tender but tight, tighter than ever as she closed her tired eyes and breathed in your scent and held the back of your head. The team gawked at you and Laura like alien specimens in your lovers arms.

"I'm just gonna say it- who the hell are you two?" Of course, Tony was the one to break the sweet moment.

Natasha let out a mix of a sigh and a chuckle, before sharing a glance with Clint. "This, Tony, is my wife Y/N. Y/N  - the Avengers, Avengers - Y/N. There, the formalities are over."  Clint soon did the same with Laura.

The sound of leather could be heard crunching as Fury walked toward you and Laura, embracing you two too hard, nearly making you cough. You gently reached up to give him a hug, "Nice to see you too Nick." 

"HOW DO THESE TWO KNOW NICK?" Poor Bruce, he looked like he was trying to solve a math problem.

"We're agents with Shield, dipshit. I'm just on leave due to-," you gestured down to your visible pregnant belly, "and the fact that Nick is my boss so technically I have to listen to him. But Laura and I have actually known all of you for years, which is how we met Clint and Natasha...unfortunately."  You chuckled when Nat lightly shoved your arm.

Good ol' Steve Rogers was the first to stick out his arm, "It’s a pleasure, Miss." His grip was firm, but not too hard. You smiled up at him kindly, "Nice to meet you too, Rogers. And call me Y/N, are you boys hungry?"

A few hours later you were in the kitchen, freshly showered and bandaged Avengers sitting at your dining room table, causing a ruckus and playing poker. You loved the sound of a full house and conversations mixing together to make one babble of laughing, foul mouthed heroes. It was music to your ears.

A gentle figure hugged you from behind while you were over the sink, placing their soft hands on your belly, you closed your eyes for a second and sighed happily.

“Missed me much sweetheart?” 

“You know I did,” you craned your neck to give her a gentle kiss on the temple.

That night, as the worlds mightiest slept in your spare bunks and sleeping bags, you fell asleep safe and sound with Natasha’s arm around you and your baby-to-be.

[ineffable-suffering]

The meaning of "I forgive you"

Alright, hello again, I involuntarily dipped for a bit because real life outside of this lovely Tumblr Good Omens bubble got a little bit stressful, but! I'm back for a quick little post to say that I'm currently reading the script book for Season 1 and seeing this line again, spelled out on paper, just shone some more light on the whole „I forgive you“-scene of Season 2 for me again.

Because really, this first time Az says it to Crowley in front of the bookshop tells us exactly what the second time during the Final Fifteen means.

Aziraphale is not forgiving Crowley for kissing him. Or for using this moment to confess and make things explicit between them.

No, Aziraphale is forgiving Crowley for not trusting and believing (in) him.

Let's shove the Final Fifteen to the side for a second and look at this scene from Season 1 under the cut.

The situation at hand: The World is ending, with utmost certainty. In addition, Crowley is absolutely f*cked and Hell is out to get him. He tries to apologise for their Bandstand fallout and explain the other two things to Az (poorly, but he tries). Because to Crowley, Armageddon is a done deal already. Wherever the actual Antichrist is, he's gonna come into his power and the World will be wiped out for Heaven and Hell to wage their war on. Also, Hastur is coming to kick his demon ass. Time to dip!

And yet, Aziraphale doesn't want to come with him. He is adamant that he will be able to reach the Almighty, talk to Her and turn this around. Because if Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, thinks there's even the slightest, tiniest morsel of a chance that he can turn things around the right way, he will do it. Even if it sounds ridiculous. Even if it's a lost cause to everyone else. Even if all the other angels gang up on him and (literally) beat him up.

Even if Crowley calls him stupid.

Aziraphale decides not to be offended by this.

Because this is what he does. This is what a Guardian does. He stays and protects to ward off the intrusion, until the very last second.

Now listen, I'm the last person to blame Crowley for intrinsically wanting to choose Flight over Fight in this very situation, because Lord knows (literally) what happened to him back when he chose Fight and lost.

But at the same time we have to keep in mind that despite his last name, Aziraphale never Fell. He never made the horrible experience of being chucked away by the one who made you to love Her because you chose to question her ways. And yes, in so many ways this choice of his, to still believe that he can change something by questioning and suggesting (both here and in S2), is utterly maddening and hurtful to Crowley. Because it's a mirror of what Crowley himself did and a reminder of just how big the price he had to pay was. Aziraphale seemingly not realizing or understanding this stings. It does.

And yet.

Yet Aziraphale's choice to not take no for an answer, to not let a punch to the gut derail him from his plan, to not let even the most definitive thing such as Armageddon keep him from fighting back, is the one thing that ends up saving the World.

Because even when it all seems impossible and completely hopeless and bloody Satan himself is erupting from the pits of Hell, ...

... Aziraphale picks up his sword and fights back.

And he wins.

Not without help, of course. But might I remind you of what got Crowley to cooperate and not simply surrender like he'd almost done that second?

You might not see it at first, but tucked in between all the posh hedonism, hidden away underneath that tightly buttoned waistcoat of his, Aziraphale is a fighter. And a good one at that. I mean, for Someone's sake, he got discorporated, beamed himself down back to Earth, found Crowley somehow, possessed a psychic prostitute (love you, Madame Tracy), rode a scooter all the way to Taddfield and fought off Lucifer with sheer willpower (and a bit of emotional coercion).

Aziraphale can fight. Smart and hard. And not only that: He can win, too. And he knows it. Because he believes, truly, firmly and wholly, that he can make things right. It's the only thing he will settle for. This, ladies and gents, this is how he ends up saving the World, together with Crowley, Adam and the rest.

Because he didn't accept no as an answer. He didn't look at the impossible and accept it as such. Even when Crowley thought him to be an idiot for trying and even after his initial attempt at talking to God had failed, Aziraphale still found a way to stop The Big Bad Thing from happening.

Which is exactly what his plan is when he ends up being forced to come back to Heaven by the Metatron. (If you still believe this was a voluntary choice, read here). And which is exactly why he is so hurt and still ends up forgiving Crowley for the fact that Crowley doesn't end up coming with him. Doesn't end up understanding, trusting and believing (in) him, just like all the way back at the end of the World in Season 1.

Aziraphale decides not to be offended by this.

[eringobragh420]

🖤 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader 🖤 Summary: Damian’s girlfriend and Rhea have a deep hatred for one another, leaving Damian in the middle to referee. 🛑 Warnings: NSFW. Overstimulation, unprotected p in v, cum 18+ 🖤 Notes: Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and I’ll fix it! Thank you so much to @miss-kuki-nz for being my muse 🖤 Taglist: In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here! 🖤 Requested By: @twistedprincess-92. Hope you enjoy! 🖤 MASTERLIST

“I am so tired of this bullshit,” Damian complained, unlocking the front door to his and his girlfriend’s home. He shoved it open, and no matter how angry he was, the man never forgot his manners, so he motioned for the tiny woman beside him to enter ahead of him.

Had she not been absolutely livid at the moment, she’d have swooned, as she was prone to doing, but as the situation stood, there would definitely be no swooning this time. “You and me both, babe,” she hissed as she passed him.

Damian slammed the door and locked it before stomping after her into the living room. He watched as she kicked her heels off and doffed her leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the couch. She crossed her arms, and he knew it was going to be a long night. “You’re acting like you’re the one that should be mad right now,” he said, motioning in her direction.

“Are you saying I’m not?” she asked evenly, brows in her hairline, and it was that perfectly held-together tone that gave Damian an ominous chill down his spine.

“Yeah, I’m saying you’re not. I’m the one that has to referee his girlfriend and his best friend every damn time we go out somewhere.”

“Oh, poor you,” his girlfriend spat. “At least you’re not the one getting called a golddigger!”

“She did not call you a golddigger.”

“Wait, no, you’re right. What she said was you’re just like all the rest. Like the girl you dated before me who spent all your money.”

“She’s just looking out for me.”

“Well, Damian, which is it? Did she not say it or is she protecting a six-foot-five grown ass man who can take care of himself?”

Damian’s hands came to his head but they dropped quickly. “You both literally want the same thing. I don’t understand any of this.”

“Maybe we do want the same thing, but she’s the one being a bitch about it.”

“Oh, great. Next you’re gonna tell me she’s the one that started it.”

“Actually, she did.”

Damian’s eyes went to the ceiling. He couldn’t believe they were having this argument again. It had been almost a year since he’d introduced the love of his life to his best friend, and ever since that day, he hadn’t had a moment’s peace. Maybe the two women were simply too alike and would consequently never get along. So where did that leave him? He refused to choose between them, and he refused to allow them to bully him into choosing between them. Had they reached an impasse? Was this just supposed to be his life now? And when the couple inevitably got married, was Rhea not going to be invited?

“And what if I just say I’m done with it?” he suddenly asked, turning his head to look at his girlfriend.

She stared at him. “What does that mean?”

Damian sighed. “Never mind.”

“You wanna be done with me?”

“I didn’t say—“

“The hell you didn’t. I’m not in Rhea’s cool book, so you’re just gonna toss me aside?”

“You’re not lis—”

“Fuck you, Damian.”

His brows rose and he nodded. “Fuck me?”

“Fuck you.”

She stomped past him, glaring the whole way, and it was clear she didn’t want to be followed, nor did he particularly want to follow her. He knew the door slam was coming, but he still jumped just the same as he removed his jacket, dropping it over the back of the couch before he fell onto the cushions with a heavy sigh. He scrubbed his hands over his face, grabbed the remote, and turned on the television knowing full well he wasn’t interested in watching anything.

He was all threats, and she knew it. He wasn’t going to break up with her, and he wasn’t going to sever ties with Rhea, either. He would live with it, he supposed, like he had been, spending the rest of his life hoping things would change. In the meantime, he’d have to keep them separated. Like children.

“Damian?”

Damian stirred, clearing his throat, and his eyes slowly blinked open. He must have fallen asleep at some point as he was now prone on the couch, one boot on the cushion, the other on the floor. Had he heard his name in a dream? He sat up, yawning, and arched his back to work out the kinks.

“Papí?” his girlfriend called again from upstairs.

“Yeah, babe?” he replied, looking over his shoulder toward the staircase.

“Will you please come to bed?”

He smirked. Yeah, he was gonna live with it. He loved her too damn much. “I’m on my way.” He pulled his phone from his pocket to check the time, discovering a message from Rhea.

I love you, twin. I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.

Damian’s smile only grew and his heart swelled, but then realized his girlfriend hadn’t been the first one to apologize. Did that bother him? Did it really matter? He could build on this. Light at the end of the tunnel. He turned the TV off before climbing the stairs and made his way down the corridor toward their bedroom. The door was open and the lights were off save for the nightlight near the bed on her side—she’d never admitted to it, but she had at least a slight fear of the dark. She was in bed, under the blankets, facing him, the azure hue from the nightlight painting her face in blues and shadows. Damian took his clothes off and crawled under the blankets behind her, pulling her naked body to his. That distended heart of his promised to pop, as his girlfriend cuddled back into him, rubbing her ass against his cock, moaning when his arms wrapped around her.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she mumbled. “You’re right. I’ve been a jerk. Rhea and I can figure this out.”

Damian’s grin could have lit up the entire room. They are just alike. He kissed her neck softly, attacking her spots as his hand drifted along her body. She squirmed when he cupped her breast, rocking her hips against his. “I know you will,” he growled, omitting the text from Rhea. “Because you’re wonderful.” He pinched an already hard nipple, ripping a groan from deep in her throat. “And you’re perfect.” His stiffening cock thrust against the crack of her ass, and she reached back to clutch his hip over the blankets. “And you’re so fucking sexy.”

She giggled. “You sweet-talker.”

“Mhmmm,” Damian mumbled, nibbling on her earlobe. His warm hand slid from her breast, the pads of his fingers skating along her abdomen, and she lifted her leg so those fingers could slip into her dampening pussy.

“Fuck,” she whined, tightening her thighs around his hand as she rode his digits. “Shouldn’t this be the other way around?” she breathed. “I’m the one that screwed up.”

“That makes me right,” Damian boasted, “which means I get what I want. And this is what I want.” His middle finger slid inside her, her hips bucking to accept and bring him deeper. “I’m gonna make you cum at least three times before I even fuck that pussy.”

And he made good on his word, working her over with his fingers until she was trembling beside him not once, not twice, but three times, and by the third time, his girlfriend was a sobbing, quivering, begging-for-mercy mess. She almost protested when Damian began to slide his stiff manhood inside her, and maybe she did a little, but her objection was weak and unconvincing. His hand on her thigh lifted her leg in the air, she pivoted her hips, and her pussy sucked him deeper within her, Damian groaning.

“God, I can’t,” she all but wept, “I can’t, I can’t.” She repeated the words in time with Damian’s pumps, and he nuzzled her neck with tender kisses.

“Yes, you can,” Damian panted. “You’re doing so good. You can take just a little bit more.” He placed her leg gently on top of its twin, tightening her already impossibly tight cunt, and he squeezed her hip before thrusting into her. “That’s it,” he whispered, watching with wild eyes as his girlfriend fisted the sheets and bit down on the pillowcase, “take it for Papí.”

His girlfriend lurched, strangled sounds escaping her lips as her pussy pulsed around him. And that was enough to send Damian over the edge. He pressed his face to her hair and emptied himself inside her, his hips stuttering, pounding, pausing, thrusting again. After several moments, he tried to pull out, but she grabbed hold of him anyway she could, and that’s where he stayed.

“Don’t even think about moving for at least the next five to seven hours.”

Damian chuckled. “Little sensitive?”

His girlfriend scoffed. “You would be too if you just came three times in a row.”

“Oh, you didn’t cum while we were fucking? Let me fix that.”

Her grip on him tightened. “Don’t even think about it. I swear, I don’t even know what Rhea and I are fighting about. I’m the one that needs protection from you.”

Damian laughed again. “I love you, mi vida.”

“I love you … jerk.” 🎀 Papí - Daddy 🎀 Mi vida - My life

[rogueddie]

Eddie slams his pile of books down on the counter, grinning at how hard Steve startles.

"Jesus, fuck," Steve holds a hand to his chest, glaring. "Man, come on, I'm too young to die of a heart attack."

"Are you sure about that?" Eddie reaches over, to tug at his hair- Steve bats his hand away before he can get near. "What are you now, seventy?"

"I'll have you know that the silver only adds to my charm."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that." He pats the pile of books. "I need to check all of these out."

"You know the limit."

"Please? Pretty please? I'll never insult you for going grey early ever again! Promise!"

"You've made that promise before," Steve grumbles, but starts to check the books out anyway. "What's all of this for anyway? New campaign or something?"

"Nah. Robin mentioned something about the cold war and nuclear shit. Got me curious."

Steve pointedly looks at the books, snorting. "Curious."

"What, you've never wanted to learn some new thing or something?"

"Not this much."

"What about all those sports you played?"

"That was more to do with my parents than me actually wanting to do it."

Eddies eyes narrow because... yeah. Outside of his old King Steve days, Eddie doesn't think Steve has ever wanted something. Not even for his birthday, or Christmas.

All he asks is for them to come to his and Robins flat. All he seems to want is confirmation that they're ok and alive.

"You always say you want kids though, right?"

"I mean, kind of. Though, I'm starting to think the brats we babysat might be more than enough for me."

"Chocolate?"

"Oh no..."

"What?"

"You're planning something, aren't you?"

"No! No, no, no... but there has to be something, right?"

"Something?"

"That you really want."

"There's nothing I need."

"That's not what I'm asking."

"That's all the answer you're getting." Steve shoves the pile of books towards him. "Get lost, I'm supposed to be working."

"Ugh, fine, you're no fun."

But he can't stop thinking about it. He ends up returning the pile of books, despite the fact that he barely read one page. When he tries to use it to question Steve, he dodges the question again.

He very quickly gives up, deciding to pester Robin until she tells him. That takes three weeks of constant, daily efforts. And, in the end, the answer is obvious.

Steve just wants to spend more time with people he cares about.

It's not easy to gather anyone in the party, given that there's no holiday or significant occasion- he manages it, though. All the kids, now young adults, organize transportation. Nancy and Jonathan, over the phone, help Eddie and Robin plan out where everyone will sleep with their small apartments.

The effort, and pain of organizing it all, is worth it for the look on Steves face when he comes home to find them all waiting for him.

When Dustin almost knocks him over with how harm he hugs him, for a second, Eddie is worried that he's going to start crying. But he holds it together, greets them all with so much enthusiasm...

"I forgot that he used to be like this," Robin comments, late into the night. They're sat a little away from the group, watching them argue over their games. "The kids mean a lot to him."

"He means a lot to them."

"I know. I think he forgets though, so... thank you."

Steve doesn't corner him until they've got the kids asleep- half of them going with Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle to Eddies appartment, the rest of them fighting over the little space in Steve and Robins.

"You could've got me chocolate," Steve says, nudging him.

"This is what you really wanted though, isn't it? That was the whole point, big boy."

"Right. Sorry, it... I wanted to say thank you. I know this must have taken a lot to organize and-"

"Steve. You don't need to thank me. Besides, I could never have done this on my own."

"Still... thank you." Steve is quiet for a moment, looking out to the busy city street. "What do you want?"

"This."

"No, what do you really want?"

"Yeah, this. Everyones together, having so much fun. We're gonna do a one-shot when you go to work tomorrow. And, uh... you're happy. I don't need anything more than that."

"Right," Steve clears his throat. He shuffles a little closer, so their sides are almost flush together, tentatively reaching out to hold Eddies hand. "You don't need anything else. What about what you want?"

"You know what I want."

"I want you to say it."

Steve leans over, bumping their shoulders together when he hesitates. He smiles, reassuring, and gives Eddies hand a squeeze.

"What do you want, Eddie?"

"You. I- I want you."

It's terrifying to admit, a horrifying leap... but the smile Steve gives him, so soft and happy, is more than worth it.

"As you wish."

[strawberry-cowmilk]

sleeping next to the brothers (realistic)

a/n: I decided this was funny enough to be released from my drafts

mc's gender is not mentioned, not proof read

content warnings: this is a shitpost, kind of, mc and the brothers share a bed

-----

Lucifer

this nice man sleeps on his back, you're gonna have to lie down on his chest and hope he wraps his arm around you if you want cuddles

the problem is he acts and feels like a literal log

he does not move during the night, and he feels like he needs a massage performed by a truck

every beaver in a three mile radius wants a lucifer

Mammon

it starts out pretty nice and peaceful

like, you're just laying there under the blankets, what could go wrong

the second mammon falls asleep he acts like he's in the newest james bond movie

the blanket will somehow be tied into a knot and on the floor, mammon's whole body is half off of the bed all that stuff

if you want an ounce of peace, make sure he doesn't get on his back, he will snore

Leviathan

guy sleeps in a bathtub need I say more

you wake up with your whole arm still asleep

there's 0 room, one of you is crushing the other plus the bathtub has no cushioning at all hopefully your back can take it or you end up like log lucifer

levi might insist on taking the ruri body pillow with him, yay less space

the air probably smells like ancient cheetos too

Satan

his room is a mess, so is the end of his bed

every heavy book is shoved there in a pile that looks like it could collapse every second

you're going to have to sleep with your legs up, especially if you're tall

satan himself isn't very cuddly, sometimes he literally falls asleep with his back turned to you (he might hug you if you ask nicely though)

luckily he stays still during the night

Asmodeus

it's actually pretty great

the bed is nice, the sheets aren't dirty and there's a nice smell in the room

the only problem is asmo will put his whole body weight on you

and good luck trying to get him off of you, he will not move

also asmo doesn't care how hot the summer day is, he will still hug you like that

at least you always got the fan, right?

Beelzebub

beel stays pretty still while sleeping and will put an arm around you

but his snores can shake the house

also beel eats in his bed, there might be crumbs of food stuck to the sheets

like his gym shorts, he washes the sheets once per blue moon

and hopefully you're a deep sleeper because beel enters and leaves the room at least 5 times per night for food

Belphegor

belphie requires to hold you or else he will not be happy

he sleeps pretty peacefully, other than the occasional snore

the problem is he can sleep for 14 hours straight, and his grip is strong

basically you will be stuck in his arms for as long as he's asleep

like beel, he doesn't wash the sheets very often

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷.𝟸𝚔 || 𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You assume Luke and Jess are sexist when they say you can't assemble a chair.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None except loads of fluff

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Jess Mariano x reader

It was a busy day at Luke’s Diner. The place was packed, and Luke, always a stickler for doing things himself, had accepted a delivery of new chairs that needed to be assembled. Naturally, Lorelai had dragged you in with the promise of coffee and pancakes, which quickly turned into you offering to help.

"Okay, so these are the parts," you said, staring down at the instruction sheet in front of you. "This doesn't look too bad."

Lorelai leaned in, glancing over your shoulder. "You say that now, but just wait until you're drowning in screws and bolts."

"Great, so optimistic," you replied sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

As you started unpacking the parts, Luke wandered over. "Y/N, you sure you got this? These chairs are heavy. I usually handle this kind of thing myself."

You frowned, pausing mid-screw. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Luke blinked, confused. "I just mean, you know… It’s heavy lifting."

Your frown deepened, and Lorelai was already smirking, sensing the impending storm.

"That’s so sexist of you, Luke!" you said, standing up straighter, putting your hands on your hips. "What? You think just because I’m a woman, I can’t handle it?"

Luke stammered, "No, no! I didn’t say that—"

You cut him off, pointing the screwdriver in his direction. "Yes, you did! You basically just said, 'Y/N, you can’t do it.' So rude."

Just then, Jess strolled in from the storage room, looking as nonchalant as ever, a book tucked under his arm. "What’s going on here?"

You spun around to face him. "Jess! Defend my honor!"

Jess quirked a brow, glancing between you and Luke. "From what?"

"From Luke's blatant sexism!" you exclaimed. "He doesn't think I can assemble these chairs."

Luke muttered something about his words being taken out of context, but you ignored him.

Jess chuckled, leaning against the counter. "Well… to be fair, I don’t think you can do it either."

You stared at him, aghast. "Excuse me? Are you guys just going to assume that a woman can’t do this?"

His lips quirked up into that infuriatingly smug smile he was so good at. "It's not about being a woman or not. A woman can definitely do it," he said, pausing dramatically, "but you? I’m not so sure."

Your jaw dropped, and you grabbed the nearest thing—an old magazine from the table—and swatted him with it. "You're the worst! Take it back!"

Jess dodged the hit with a smirk, not even trying to hide his amusement. "You’re cute when you're mad, you know that?"

"Oh, you think so?" You raised the magazine again, your eyes narrowing. "Well, get ready because I'm about to become fucking adorable."

Jess laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay! I'm just kidding. Jeez, Cherry."

Lorelai, watching the whole interaction with great interest, nudged Luke. "See? They're made for each other."

Luke grunted. "They're made for driving me crazy."

You crossed your arms, glaring at Jess. "You're gonna help me finish these chairs, Mariano, or I'll make sure you regret it."

Jess shrugged, still grinning. "Sure, whatever you say. Just… try not to break anything."

You shot him a withering look, but inside, you couldn't help the little flutter of excitement you always got when Jess teased you like this. He was impossible, and yet, you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

As you two got to work—Jess actually offering helpful tips here and there—Lorelai sighed dramatically from the booth. "I give it six months before these two are married."

Luke glanced at her, unimpressed. "I give it two weeks before they’re banned from this diner."

You and Jess exchanged a quick look as you muttered, "Fine," giving Jess another playful shove as he handed you the next screw. "But I’m still mad at you."

Jess leaned in, his voice soft and teasing. "You look adorable when you’re mad."

You huffed, trying not to smile. "I hate you."

"Sure you do," he whispered, grinning as he bumped your shoulder, "and I think you're adorable too."

I am having a cherry flavored lollipop right now and I just realized Jess is MADE to say the nickname 'cherry'. 🍒

[tciddaemina]

legacy, duty, and generations in sekiro

no but okay, there is absolutely something fundamental and foundational about the way that the different generations of character is sekiro make up part of the plot. i literally cannot understate how important this - the fact that there are multiple generations of characters - and the role of inheritance of duty between generations plays in the core themes, and the core tragedy, of the story.

because like, there are so many of the characters (of the bosses lol) who are these very old people, almost elderly, more than a few retired, who play absolutely fundamental roles within the story. we have owl, wolf’s father and teacher. we have lady butterfly, similarly a very powerful aging figure of the same generation. we have lord isshin, and even the sculptor. all of these figures, they represent old guard of a previous age of glory - a previous generation, who’s stories and legacies are fundamental to the plot. twenty years ago, lord isshin (with the help of people like owl, the sculptor, and others) lead a coup and a revolt that won ashina its freedom, making it an independent state, and the story as it unfolds is the tale of how the next generation is trying to pick up and carry on that legacy. 

and this concept - legacies being passed on from one generation to the next, the duty that the younger generation inherits and how they have to hold it up - is what makes and breaks the main characters of sekiro, namely wolf and genichiro. 

wolf and genichiro are foils of one another, both of whom are in essentially the same situation and who’s parallels are indisputable. because right, they’re both children adopted by the hero’s of that victorious aging generation, brought up to pick up the duty of their line. genichiro is there to be lord isshin’s heir, the next lord of the ashina clan, the next protector of ashina, while wolf is owl’s successor, a weapon created to continue owl’s legacy and to carry out his purpose. 

duty makes and breaks these characters. at their heart, it is their fundamental driving principle. genichiro’s duty is to ashina as a whole, the land itself, and protecting and saving ashina is his singular focus, to the point where he’s tearing himself apart to do it (his fucking arms, my god the lightning burns). he will do anything to protect his homeland, because if it doesn’t it means that he’s failed. his grandfather won ashina’s freedom, and genichiro is the one who has to step into his shoes and protect it in the next war, when history repeats itself and the same forces come back seeking to consume it. his loyalty is to a place, and in his drive to protect it drives him to do terrible things, abandoning his morals in the hopes of finding a way to protect his home, ultimately resulting in him sacrificing his own life - literally putting the sword to his own throat and bleeding himself dry - for the hope that it will be enough to summon a protector who will be able to keep ashina and its people safe. 

wolf, in contrast, has his duty centred on a person. first it is on owl, who raises him and creates of him a shinobi. then it’s on kuro, who owl presents wolf to. literally, it’s the iron code that owl gives wolf: “your father's word always comes first, your master's a close second.” at every point throughout the story, wolf’s first and only priority is in obeying kuro and seeing that he is safe. it’s his driving force, it’s what he does. wolf ultimately isn’t taking part in the war and fighting for the sake of the war itself or any morals or stances he has about it - he fights both members of the interior ministry and members of ashina’s defences, not caring what side they’re on. wolf is ultimately on his own side in the war, an independent party whose sole priority is in seeing kuro through the conflict safely. if wolf cared about the outcome of the war, or about ashina’s defence, the defence of his homeland, then he wouldn’t be ruthlessly slaughtering the main generals in charge of trying to hold the front. 

so, like genichiro, wolf is driven by a singular focus and an all consuming duty centered on one thing. like genichiro, he is willing to tear himself apart and even sacrifice himself in order to see kuro safe. this parallel, if you take the purification ending, is literally one to one, right down to the type of sword each one uses for the act. the black mortal blade for genichiro, sacrificing himself to try and bring back a glorious protector strong enough to see ashina to another age of victory; the red mortal blade for wolf, sacrificing himself in order to free kuro from the curse of his bloodline and finally allow him to live an untethered life. 

what we see throughout the story is the remnants and legacy of a brighter age, one in which the story had a happy ending and ashina’s heros were successful in winning its freedom. the tragedy of the story, the crux of it, is in the handing over of this legacy from one generation to another and the way they try - fuck, genichiro tries so so fucking hard - and fail to carry it forward. the torch is being passed onwards, only to stumble and be guttered out. 

what ultimately makes the difference between wolf and genichiro, however, is the way each one interacts with their given duty and the way that wolf (in some endings) ultimately rejects the legacy that is being handed down to him. 

because okay we have genichiro, who picks up the duty that isshin hands him and burns himself into the ground trying to carry it out. he’s so desperate to uphold his duty and to protect ashina that he is forced to walk willingly down the path to great evil - creating the ogre creatures, kidnapping kuro to try and convince him to give him the immortal oath, everything and anything to create a weapon strong enough to hold back the tide, even if that weapon is himself. he carries out his duty, and it corrupts him, and it destroys him, and ultimately it is all for nothing. 

with wolf, however, this moment comes to a climax with [SPOILERS] owl’s return. he’s carried out his duty so far, he’s protected kuro and he’s followed his orders and he’s kept him safe - all at owl’s behest. remember, the father comes first, the master second. the reason wolf first starts serving kuro is because owl tells him to, and wolf’s duty is to owl. that is the duty he’s inherited - to be a weapon and a tool, to follow owl’s commands, to be a loyal shinobi in his service.

(and there’s something to be said here too, about the fact that wolf and genichiro are both ultimately weapons picked up and shaped by their adopted parental figures for a specific purpose - genichiro as a shield that protects ashina and wolf as a blade to cut down owl’s enemies)

the thing is though, is that wolf does come to care for kuro. he develops as a person, learns compassion, learns mercy, becomes more human than what owl had created him as. when owl comes to wolf and tells him to forsake kuro and hand over the divine heir, seeking to make use of his immortality, wolf has a choice. and its here, in this choice that we see how wolf’s own journey can either mirror or diverge from genichiro’s. 

if wolf obeys - obeys that duty, follows it, holds onto it with both hands and doesn’t let go, doesn’t think, doesn’t question - then he forsakes kuro and becomes a shura. like genichiro, following his duty and not letting go leads to him walking down into darkness and becoming corrupted. he becomes a monster, nothing inside him but violence and hate, the likes of the demon of hatred.

if wolf disobeys - if he rejects his duty, rejects the legacy that owl is trying to pass onto him, to be a true and cold shinobi, heartless and without feeling - then his path diverges from genichiro’s. in rejecting his duty, he frees himself and is able to a get to an (arguably) happier end. he breaks from the iron code and rejects what owl created him to be, ultimately deciding to disobey owl and give his loyalty to another, to choose, in essence to feel and care rather than to be cold and heartless. and yes okay there are variations on what counts as “happy” as far as the severing, purification, and heading away endings, but i think we can say that in any single one of them wolf is happier than he would have been in the shura ending. (okay yes in the severing ending that’s questionable, but at the very least wolf has the absolution of having helped kuro carry out his wish and finally reach peace, knowing his bloodline will no longer be abused).  

and i think its interesting, too, that the fact that wolf’s choice to go with or against owl, to reject or accept the duty and legacy being handed down by the previous generation, hinges on his relationship with kuro, a member of the generation to come. when wofl rejects owl, it is ultimately because he has decided that holding up the legacy of those who have come before is less important than protecting the future of those who are to come. he breaks from his duty to owl in order to provide the chance for kuro to break from his own heritage and the legacy of his bloodline in turn. 

in kuro, we see the third generation entering this scene. we have the glorious vanguard of the past, those aging great heros; we have the middle generation, now grown and struggling to pick up the torch of those who have come before; and we have the youngest generation, who grow up in the shadow of it all, innocents subject to the bloody aftermath of the legacy of their forefathers. 

and i just think it’s interesting, i guess, that for all that duty plays just a driving force in the motives of the wolf and genichiro, that it is ultimately only through rejecting duty and the burdens of the previous generations and choosing to walk his own path that wolf win a chance at happiness. in a story about inheritance, it is in the rejection of the path set out before you by others and in creating a path of your own that the story tells us we will find salvation. 

[cherrygenshin]

Obey Me! Rut HC's - pt.2

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT. Minors DNI. Again, no special warnings, just breeding.

GN reader.

Satan

His rut is average, lasting up to a week.

He's not too big on nest building, he finds it gets too stuffy in his room with too many items in it (let's be real, it's really cause it won't fit due to all his damn books)

Actually remains kinda the same? Just touchier?

Won't let you leave his room once you enter, if you do leave he won't let you back in, no matter how desperate he gets.

Snaps VERY quickly, but will try his best to keep his cool around you. He's just so worked up, he can't handle the pressure.

In post nut clarity he will be very smoochy to you, thanking you for putting up with him and giving you the best food he can find.

He's not great at regulating his emotions at the best of times, but now instead of 'ANGRY ANGRY ANGRY' his mind is full of 'BREED BREED BREED'.

Enjoys bending you over so he can pound in to you and groan lewdly in your ear.

PLEASE scratch him up, your marks on him means he's fucking you just right, he wants to see them.

Asmodeous

Longest rut out of everyone, tbh he kinda always wants to breed and be bred so it's not that different for him.

He will seek you out the moment he feels it coming. He normally has demons lining up around the block for a chance with him, but he'll choose you over anyone else. Of course, if you're down to enjoy his rut with more people, then he's down for that too.

Prefers being bred over breeding, I HC that he's got both a juicy cunt AND a nice dick. He uses both, but definitely prefers getting his pussy filled.

You think Levi was loud? Try Asmo. He LOVES the sound of his voice, and he knows you love it too. He will moan the house down.

He's ridiculously sensitive and very bratty, will try and push you further in to him/push himself further in to you, he's very needy.

Unlike his brothers, he's actually not very clingy during his rut, and enjoys his personal space, like taking nice long baths before the next wave of horniness overcomes him.

Overall he's very casual about the whole thing. You wanna breed him? Okay. You want him to breed you? Easy done. As long as someone gets to enjoy him, he's happy.

Beelzebub

Another vote for average rut length, lasts about a week.

Enjoys making a lil nest for you and him to spend the week in, takes pride in his nest building abilities.

OKAY so, Beel wants a family. Idc what anyone says, he's a family man through and through.

Being that he wants a family, his rut hits him very hard. His desire to breed completely overwhelms him, he becomes the most animalistic out of all his brothers.

Also, BIG DICK = LOTS OF CUM

He will FOLD you like a deck chair, just to shove his cock as far into you as he possibly can.

Grunts and groans, will also grip you tight enough to leave bruises, he just loves u so much he wants to be as close to you as possible

"Gonna cum in you darling", "gonna make you a parent", "Fuck- you're gonna be so hot carrying my child."

Will literally carry you to impale u on his dick if you get too tired, he is not stopping until you're pregnant.

Belphegor

Lucky ass bitch has the shortest rut, lasting only two or so days.

Probably will sleep through it ngl wet dream city

If he happens to be awake, he won't ask for help directly, he'll just expect it.

He kinda already has a nest in the attic, won't really add much more to it. He'd rather preserve energy to be able to fuck you properly.

Another for 'I don't really want kids but damn nutting in u is kinda nice'

Gets more whiny during his rut, when he's close he'll let out the most angelic soft moans and whines you've ever heard.

Although he isn't super energetic on the best of days, being in his rut really saps all his energy. He's got a cycle of fuck, sleep, fuck, sleep.

Unfortunately you will have to feed him as he really does put his all in to fucking you, he doesn't even have the energy to feed himself afterwards.

Big on show, don't tell. He won't tell you how much he loves you (he's getting better at expressing his emotions, but he's getting better!) But the way he holds you close as he sleeps says more than words ever will.

[weirwoodsugar]

lil jon things i am obsessed with/think are hilarious in the order they occurred to me at 3 am

-spends the first book telling anyone who will listen that he’s Not Afraid To Die and then a wight shoves its whole hand down his throat and he’s like wow that was actually extremely scary and never says that shit again

-always got little Things he says to himself but they’re all awful. very bad affirmation game no wonder morale is low

-“did lord eddard father you on a fish wife”

-the doubts that plague me can’t catch me if i just keep making Decisions!!! let’s hear it for Decisions!!!!

-arguably contender for top woman respecter but batting absolute zero at successfully comforting crying women. unless you consider “making her mad at you instead of upset” a success

-i’m not a wolf! i’m not a wolf!! i’m not a wolf!!! while warging like almost constantly with zero control. babe i don’t think your affirmations are working you’re experiencing non consensual smells at an alarming rate

-i wish mormont was my dad wait no i wish benjen was my dad wait no i wish qhorin was my dad wait no i wish donal noye was my dad. will someone be my dad please i just keep making decisions

-constantly having Agonies over ethical decision making while the rest of the continent hasn’t even really invented the concept of ethics yet? on the verge of a nervous breakdown due to his constant Agonies

-related: love is the death of duty but having strong ethical convictions/clear moral vision is also kind of the death of duty oops! aemon didn’t warn you about that one!

-stannis wants to davosify this kid mega bad

-“jon felt like he was fifteen again” (said when he’s literally sixteen)

-has a terrible violence in his heart but it’s kind of the least of his problems tbh. like yeah my fire and blood levels are a little elevated but i’ve got paperwork i need to take care of

-RUNNING DOWN THE TABLE AT YOU WITH A KNIFE!!!!!

-last of the giants fixation. god he’s gonna be so mad when he comes back and wun wun is dead. this one isn’t hilarious it’s deeply moving and endearing

-an eagle almost rips his eye out and he’s like well i guess i have no choice but to have sex with ygritte at least one dozen times. it’s a tough job but someone’s gotta do it

-just a crazy amount of anime main character pre-loaded swag (bastard of winterfell skin changer with an albino direwolf and a cool sword which he can really SWANG and cool facial scars etc etc) and is actively working against it. rolled super high on charisma and is trying to balance it out by being as much of a boring fuddy duddy as he possibly can. the devil works hard (at making me cool) but i work harder (at being very uncool). it is an honorable thing to be swagless by choice…….

-pretty sure he actively enjoys saying no to people. just for love of the game (the game is being disagreeable). very capricorn coded. likely brushes his teeth in the shower.

-REMEMBER WE KNOW WHERE YOU SLEEP 😈