#and i'm allowed to stop taking it if i want but if i have to choose rn between the two evils

[fictionalsweethearts]

SUBLIMATE THE PAIN | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

Synopsis: Sevika helps you to explore yourself and subside the pain and the shame of self pleasure.

Contains: comfort, soft!sevika, unexperienced!reader, wlw, first sexual experiences, soft talk, masturbation, fingering.

A pretty personal fic, tbh, but Sevika as a character seems to be patient and loving when it comes to sex and I'm here to write about it. Enjoy!

Sevika had promised you patience and comfort, a woman with her vast sexual experience knew the unpleasant and uncomfortable details of love. She knew the burning and the pain, the disgust, the sorrow, the shame and the numbness, and for that reason she had promised to accompany you in the process with as much patience as necessary.

She kissed you again on the neck, a mirror stood before you sitting on the bed, Sevika's vast hand ran over your breasts and her grey eyes looked at you through the reflection, inviting you to stop ignoring the signs of your body. Her breasts brushed your back, her mechanical hand gently parted your legs and revealed the juiciness and softness of your core.

"How do you pretend to touch her without knowing her?" The woman asked. "You ignore many things, babe."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment since you had your first kiss of the evening, but you promised not to let shyness win you over this time. It was the third night and the third time you tried, the last two having ended with a sudden lock-in in the bathroom or tears of shame and frustration running down your cheeks.

"I can't. I swear I can't." You cried as Sevika kissed your wet cheeks.

"Of course you can, don't be like that with yourself."

You considered that Sevika could be your mentor in this unknown field for you, the guide that would allow you to understand sex as something more than a mere routine or necessary act. "To begin with, doll, we don't intend to have a child with this. Not even if we wanted to. Second, I've seen as many pussies in my life as I've smoked cigarettes and yours is undoubtedly beautiful."

You laughed to hide your shame, but Sevika meant it. She was decades ahead of you in sexual experiences, she knew the female anatomy in depth, taking the time to explore herself first. Sevika knew that no one could teach her how to have an orgasm, and she fondly remembers the first times she tried self pleasure in the silence of her room, picturing that pretty girl at the market who used to sell her peaches at a good price. It was another Zaun, more precarious, less saturated with pornography and violence, and certainly her brain needed little to start imagining. And the softness of the girl's breasts under her blouse, her long neck and olive eyes were more than enough to awaken that visceral desire in her.

She dedicated her first orgasm to that girl and her peach scent. It was in a way tender, but the starting point of an endless journey through the unexplored region of sexuality. She soon discovered that inserting a finger was pleasant, that if she moved it in a certain way, it was even more so. She discovered that her breasts were sensitive if touched properly, that her entire skin was a map of erogenous zones and tickles, that rubbing her pussy against the pillow was delicious, and that after an orgasm she slept better. And soon, as soon as she was over five foot seven and learned to smoke without coughing, Sevika discovered that touching herself tasted better if someone she liked did it for her.

"Slow." Sevika whispered, placing a kiss on your shoulder. "Look at yourself. What do you see?"

"My pussy." You whispered, barely giving your reflection time to look back at you.

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

"It's not bad it's…"

"Strange?"

"I don't usually look at my pussy, Sev." You groaned.

"You should, it's pretty." Sevika laughed, caressing your waist with her metal fingers. "Think of all the men who have been staring at their cocks for as long as they've been conscious of them hanging between their legs, do you think they feel ashamed?"

You hesitated. "No?"

"There are two things a man always believes to be true." Sevika said, her tone lighter. "That they have the fattest cock on the block and that they can duel a bear without weapons, and win."

You laughed, your legs shaking slightly. Sevika smiled back. "If only you had the confidence they have in themselves, doll. It would be all so different."

Your expression sobered, this time giving the gap between your legs a longer look, that much neglected organ that deserved just a little more recognition in your life and in the lives of many other women.

"Look at the labia majora, the shape of it, the length of it…" Sevika whispered. "It frames the labia minora, the ones closest to the entrance."

You'd seen them in some anatomy book at the library, but recognizing them on yourself was quite different.

"I should have shaved more." You groaned in frustration.

Sevika snorted. "Are you saying that because of you or me? Cause lemme tell you, a hairy pussy doesn't grosses me out. On the contrary."

"But it does to me."

"Mine repels you?" Sevika inquired, leaving you speechless for a moment.

"No…" you whispered. "Yours… it's yours."

"I see. Now think the same about yours, sweetie." Sevika said. "Yours is what it is and that's it. Don't you dare apologize for how your body looks. Do I apologize for not having an arm?"

And you fell silent once more. Sevika sighed, kissing your neck. “You get my point.”

Sevika reveled in your body, in your flushed cheeks and focused eyes. She loved seeing you present. “You’re already wet.” She whispered. “But it can get wetter. Take two fingers.”

Sevika brought you index and middle fingers parted to the sides of your entrance, urging you to press. “Massage, slow.” She whispered, showing you the movement.

You obeyed, following the motion timidly at first, until you soon understood the purpose. That movement, however subtle, opened a pent-up dam that began to make you wetter and wetter. You moaned, feeling the urge to touch the rest but Sevika held your wrist. “Start from edges.” She said. “Don’t rush it.”

It was one of your vices, quick, silent masturbation. With your legs closed, a hand on your mouth and your eyes closed tightly, as if you were committing a crime that you wanted to finish soon. They were fleeting moments of pleasure that later turned into disconnection with yourself.

But Sevika knew you deserved better than that.

With your index finger you traced circles on your labia majora, slowly while Sevika whispered in your ear, kissed it and bit your lobe, making you shudder subtly. It was a constant and gentle movement, with no other purpose than to explore yourself.

"Come closer to the center." Sevika whispered. "Apply pressure, rub a little."

Your eyelids fluttered at that tickling between your legs, the sticky and wet murmur of your folds that made Sevika moan softly and her breathing accelerate, her breasts pressing against your back. Your hips moved unconsciously, you looked at your hand through the mirror, delicately between your legs with the elegance of an erotic painting.

"You're so pretty." Sevika gasped. "Look how your cheeks blush."

"Yours too."

Sevika smiled. "It just turns me on like you can't imagine seeing you touching yourself."

Sevika was known to be an avid spectator. More than once she would abstain from participating and sit on the couch in the brothel with a cigarette between her teeth, asking her girl to give her a show. There was something about watching such an intimate ritual that stirred every nerve fiber in her. Watching them unfold before her, rubbing themselves the way they liked, moaning genuinely, shuddering, whimpering and sighing, being able to see how their own hand is able to take them on a roller coaster of sensations. That ritual held a power that Sevika was fascinated to behold, and tonight you were her apprentice and her muse.

Sevika squeezed your breast, playing with your hardened, sensitive nipple. She already wanted to taste them, but she had to be patient. The appetizer was your self-exploration, the dessert was her mouth between your legs.

"You know… when there's too much business to attend to." Sevika said, her grey eyes watching you. "I can't visit the girls, so I lay back on my bed with a cigarette between my lips…" she murmured. "And I squeeze my breasts. Over and over, I touch them… massage them… while thinking of old encounters, of sounds… smells. You know how I love smells."

"All of them." You whimpered.

"Yes… from the armpits to the neck, between a couple of breasts and a wet pussy." Sevika sucked in between her teeth. "All of them."

You remember how Sevika had taken to sniffing you the first time she had you. She inhaled the scent of your neck and the crook of your elbows, behind your knees and your armpits. It was a scent loaded with codes, codes that communicated intentions. The pheromones were the best card to attract the most finicky organ of the human body; the nose.

"Sev." You whimpered. "Can you…?"

"That would be the shortcut, so no. I won't touch you yet."

You groaned, tilting your head back as Sevika placed a kiss on the top of your head. "Patience." Sevika drew your hand to the shy hood at the top of your pussy. "Pamper her, that's what it's for."

You traced circles around it, letting out a gasp. Sevika kept her hand on your wrist, indicating the methodical and steady pace, drawing sweet moans from you. "I'm wet just by looking at you." She whispered.

You bit your lip, the urge to grind harder and harder. An orgasm was building inside you, steady and certain, as Sevika kissed your neck and motioned for you to quicken your pace. "Ah, fuck…"

"Moan better." Sevika said. "You can be as loud as you want here."

You whimpered, your hips seeking more contact as you moved and you rubbed against your hand. Sevika pressed her fingers against you, urging you on. "Keep going… don't rush." ​​

"Ah, Sev."

"You like it? It's better when you don' try to cum in two minutes."

You hurried your hand, but Sevika held you back. This wasn't a race and you were certainly getting ahead of yourself. "Old habits die hard."

Her metal hand held your legs apart, her other hand ascending to your chin to make you look at yourself in the mirror again. “We’ll try again, okay?”

This part was the one you liked the least. It wasn’t just the pain, it was the accumulated frustration from past sessions with no results. Sevika told you it was all in your head, that you were just as deserving of this pleasure as others. But you still felt skeptical.

“Middle finger.” She whispered, bringing it to your entrance. “Just press, darling. Soften your entrance.”

You pressed your lips together, obeying her command even though you preferred to rub. You eased the tip of your finger, gently moving it in circles. “It already burns.” You whined.

“I know. We talked about sublimating pain, remember?” You nodded. “Your body is already relaxed, you’re wet. You need to focus on breathing.”

It seemed that when it came to penetration, your body locked up. It was an overwhelming burn, a wall of fire if you will, closing in around your fingers and keeping you from entering. Sevika had tried this in the past, drawing whimpers from you that would never stop causing her guilt. This time, however, it was about allowing yourself to do it.

"I don't like it, Sev."

"You don't like it because you're predisposed to suffer." she insisted. "I know you can, babygirl."

You looked at Sevika through the mirror, her grey eyes soothing you. "Breathe, deep. One… two…" you inhaled, your hand between your legs, the wall of fire present. "Three. Exhale…"

You dared to venture deeper, your walls coupling to your finger as the burn quickened your breathing. "Shh." Sevika kissed your neck. "Breathe again."

One… two… three…

Exhale.

“Ah…” you moaned, inserting the last bit of your finger and feeling the latent but less painful tension. “Mhm.”

“Good girl, look at yourself.”

You opened your eyes, looking at yourself in the mirror. The palm of your hand rested against your clit, your finger inserted all the way in, like a new but unrejected intrusion. “Sev.”

“I told you you could, you're taking it whole.” Sevika smiled. "Can you move it?"

You barely curled your finger, but you recognized the rugous wall inside you. "Yes…" you moaned.

"Breath for me." continued Sevika, gently taking your wrist as she motioned you to curl your fingers once more. "One... two..."

"Mhm, Sev." you moaned, your eyes closing. "Fuck."

"Does it hurt?"

"The pressure." you managed to explain.

"You're tensing, baby. Relax..." Sevika let out a pant, kissing the side of your neck. "You're doing so good."

You endured and took a deep breath, curling your finger against the inner wall Sevika talked you about. You felt a tickle, barely diminishing due to an increasingly timid pain.

And Sevika seemed pleased. "You did good, baby. Rest."

You pulled your finger back when the pressure forced it, only for Sevika to cup your chin in her fingers and pull you in for a long kiss. "Well done." She said between kisses. "Fuck, you looked so beautiful."

Sevika showered you in kisses, from your mouth to your navel, repeating how proud she was of you. "You've crossed the threshold, gorgeous. You just need to practice."

You smiled, feeling the hint of a happy cry build up in your throat. But Sevika cheered you up with another kiss. "We'll try again tomorrow. Sooner than later I'll have you cumming in my fingers over and over again."

You chuckled, watching Sevika kiss your inner thigh. "It's rude to look at the food without eating it, y'know?" you teased her.

"How rude of me." she purred, her kisses coming closer to your wet and now dilated pussy. "You better moan properly, doll."

"All you want."

[maxisodenoth]

Oops, forgot to block.

But anyways, it seems like you don't understand.

Let me put it like this for you.

You have been provided links with proof [that I'm sure you didn't even touch.] And instead of bringing up any point related to them you stick to your same arguments.

I asked you a simple yes or no question, and you seem to have taken it personally. It doesn't matter to me what you think the answer is, because the answer is always no. An infertile woman is just as much of a woman as any other. We are what we want to be. Your words mean nothing to me, and other peoples identity. [which let me remind you *again* that you've been provided links in the comments which explain this stuff better than I ever could]

[And let me tell you something. Just because we can't have kids right now doesn't mean it'll remain that way in the future. I believe that something will be figured out later in the future that will allow trans-people to be able to reproduce with their new reproductive apparatuses. Whether that takes years or decades doesn't matter. It'll happen.]

You used word meanings as "arguments". May I remind you that, words were created far before any research was done on this matter? [Not exaclty sure when or how much words change but I'm almost sure it's a pretty slow process, so they might be a bit or alot outdated. Not sure though.] And that maybe instead of etymology, you should be looking at psychology, and biology? [Links in the comments~] Trying to use words meanings as arguments doesn't really work out that well when we're not talking about words but people.

[And by the way. Where is your evidence? You've been provided links explaining this stuff, yet when pressed, you only choose to go to ... a dictionary? Really?]

[Also, since you've stooped into insults let me get in on that action.]

Why do you care so much? Like really. Why does this matter that much to you? Are you that miserable that the only joy you get is by hating on other people being themselves and happy?

Look, I know it's hard to find a purpose in life, or a job, but it'd be alot easier if you stopped being a prick and just let people be themselves. There's no reason to hate people who literally don't affect you in any shape or form. They're just being themselves. Cope. [Your final reminder that there are links in the comments!~]

Or do you just refuse to grow up and understand that it doesn't matter what you say. People will be themselves and happier than you will ever be?

I am not a debator. I'm just some angry penguin on the internet. I have left my piece here. And I won't forget to block this time. May this be the last time I see your miserable blog on my feed.

And for everyone else who comes across this post, trans or otherwise. Your identity is Valid. You know yourselves better than some stranger on the internet. Or anyone who's not you. Because it's Your Identity. Not these peoples.

Do not let the hateful words of bigots make you feel bad about youself. You are the only one who can choose your identity. Not some idiots on the internet. You. And let me say this again Your identity is always valid. No matter what others say. ❤️

Goodbye. 👋

[Even if you reply to this, I'm not wasting anymore of my time on you John. You've been given links, read them. The same goes for any asshole who wants to start another argument. I do not care for you. Find someone else to deal with your bullshit.]

Facts matter. #VoteBlue

[mameillieureennemie]

i had been thinking about this all day at work.

fwb!vi x f!reader - 1

summary: looks say far more than words can.

when you and vi first started this arrangement, the way she looked at you was different.

it was a look of hunger; a look that a mountain lion would possess as it laid its eyes on an innocent lamb. to say she wanted to eat you was too kind—she wanted to devour you, tear into your flesh with sharp, and wet her gullet with your blood.

it was possession that drove her to throw you on the bed before mounting you. the desperate urge to keep as she swallowed you whole, bones and all, until there was nothing left of you.

that was months ago, when the arrangement was still fresh. when you firmly stated that this was nothing but downright filthy sex, and vi agreed.

but everything has changed.

vi doesn't look at you the same.

except she does, but it's worse somehow.

while she still pins you down with that gaze of raw possession, it's...softened.

no longer is it harsh and jagged, slicing through your flesh with serrated edges. now, it cradles you, like gentle hands holding the delicate body of a baby bird. cautious, easy...

fond.

it terrifies you.

vi's nestled in the cradle of your thighs, hiding her face in the plush of your stomach. her arms are locked around your waist, tight and assured, and she's humming a tune. it's muffled, but it's familiar; a song that she lets loose when she's happy.

when she's happy with you.

there's a heavy rock in your stomach, pulling you down towards the ground. it may drag you through the earth, suffocating you in the terrifying heat of the earth's mantle. maybe the heat will kill you first, but you'll be killed nonetheless.

this is what your fear feels like. this is what you were afraid of.

vi's shifting on your lap momentarily draws you away from your inevitable breakdown. she's now lying on her back, baring her face back to the world—back to you.

the smile on her face is tender; it's what some might even call loving. the rock in your stomach gains five pounds, nausea pooling at the back of your throat.

no.

"hey, pretty girl," vi murmurs, low and slow, as if those words are her secrets. "what's going on in that head of yours?"

the words sit at the tip of your tongue, scrambling for freedom. they seep into your taste buds, leaving behind the most sour of tastes.

we need to stop this, is what yells to be said. we said no feelings. this was supposed to be about sex and nothing else. so why does it feel like you're in love with me?

why does it feel like i'm in love with you, too?

"nothing," you say instead, mimicking the low and slow, like you're also telling secrets. "just wondering about what i should do tonight."

you stress the i a little too harshly, but vi doesn't notice. or maybe she does and refuses to care. maybe she's acting on her own will, doing what feels right by her standards.

which is unfair; she isn't allowed to do this to you.

"well, if you don't anything in mind," vi says easily. "we could go catch a movie or something? maybe go and grab something to eat from jericho's?" the way she says we is too simple, as if it's always been we and not you and her.

you stare down at her for a moment, really take her in. the slope of her nose, the scar on her upper lip. the soft pinks of her cheeks, and her eyes. wide and power blue and far too expressive of their own good because she's looking at you with that look again.

that look that means way too much.

when you open your mouth, all that falls out is a lie.

"actually, i have to wake up early in the morning." you lie through your teeth because you need to get away from this—from her.

the look in vi's eyes changes, slips into something foreign; something unknown. you've never seen this look before, but you can't find it in yourself to worry about it.

when vi leaves, she presses a lingering kiss upon your lips. her hands grasp at you a bit too tightly, as if feeling you for the last time. then she's gone without a word, and a part of you wonders what that could have meant.

but as the weeks go by and vi goes unheard of, you suddenly realise on a deathly cold morning.

vi was saying goodbye.

[ldrfanatic]

Hii! I don't know if you are still doing soulmate prompts but if you are I would love to see one with Theodore Nott (as a series or one-shot) Ofc u don't have to and if you aren't doing them anymore dww!! I love your writing it's so good!

love you for a lifetime

Hiiii!! definitely still doing soulmate prompts, i adore them. feel free to request more with theo or any of the boys. I'm sorry this one is so short and that it took so long to get out, I'm moving in a few weeks so I've been busyyyy. I will however most likely write a part two to this just bc i don't feel like soulmate theo and reader are quite through yet. enjoy! ;)

theodore nott x fem!soulmate!reader

soulmate prompt - you see the world in black and white until you meet your soulmate. when you meet them, everything explodes into color.

warnings - cursing i think??? more soft theo :)

theodore nott didn't need to see the world in color.

he didn't want to.

he didn't need a soulmate. his mother had found hers and look where that left her. dead.

no, theo was perfectly content seeing his world in different shades of gray. there was a quiet peace to a colorless world. and he'd never seen color, so there was nothing for him to miss really. but then he met you, and everything changed.

14 Year Old Theo

theo groaned and rolled over onto his stomach. the taste of dirt filled his mouth. quidditch practice was supposed to be harmless. somehow, he'd been knocked off his broom. while the fall to the ground was a short one, he still felt the painful crunch of his wrist breaking his fall. paired with the hard thunk of his head on the ground, theo knew that this would earn him a trip to madam pomfrey.

theo detested the hospital wing. madam pomfrey was bearable enough, but the white bedspreads and miserable patients made him want to walk all the way to the top of the astronomy tower just to throw himself off.

begrudgingly, he allowed his friends to drag him through the corridors. even through his insistence that he could take himself the hospital wing and didn't need an escort, they still seemed unconfident that he would actually keep his promise and go. maybe they had a point.

what he hadn't expected was to see the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid eyes on. he'd never seen you around school before which seemed odd since you were clearly around his age and probably within his year, give or take.

you were fussing around with a cabinet full of glittering potions and things. theo suspected it to be some kind of medicine cupboard. he cleared his throat in a manner that he hoped was nonchalant. finally, you glanced in his direction. your gaze didn't meet his though. and more than anything, theo found himself disappointed.

you offered him a distracted smile, still without really looking at him and calling absentmindedly for madam pomfrey. theo found himself oddly frustrated that you wouldn't look at him.

madam pomfrey floated into the room and started fussing over theo while you prepared a cot for him to sit on. once he was situated, madam pomfrey waltzed off towards the back broom closet, muttering about a number of items that theo had never heard of.

"oh! y/n, dear. he seems to have hit his head, can you please take his pulse for me."

theo wasn't sure what his pulse had to do with hitting his head, but the moment your delicate hands picked up his wrist, he couldn't bring himself to care. anything that got you touching him was justified enough in his book.

finally, as you were examining his face for signs of distress, your eyes met his.

the world stopped. theo's vision whitened, like the lights were suddenly too bright.

when the light faded, the world was filled with breathtaking shades of every color theo had never even known existed. more importantly, he could see all the hues of you. the glow of the sun against your skin, the sheen of your hair. you were beautiful. there wasn't a sight that compared to you in this moment.

naturally, theo had heard from mattheo about the stunning green grass at the quidditch field and the pretty deep blues and purples of the night sky. and yet, theo knew for certainty that nothing that he'd seen either in color or in black and white could hold a candle to you.

theo didn't need to see the world in color.

he didn't want to.

he didn't want a soulmate.

but the gods had given him one anyway without thought or care for what he wanted. and he would spend the rest of his mortal life cherishing every minute with you. every smile on your face, every giggle that burst from your chest like an eagle learning to fly.

"amour?"

love.

theo snapped back to the present. that's what you were to him. his love. your cheek was pressed against the interior of his shoulder and a concerned look was fixed on your face.

"where'd you go theo?"

"just reminiscing, sweetheart. remembering us."

a tender look from you had theo ready to melt into the couch. had you always been this beautiful? the answer was of course a resounding yes.

sure theo had only had the pleasure of being your boyfriend for the past two years or so, but he couldn't imagine that there was any part of your life where you hadn't been stunning.

theo’s breath caught in his chest as you shifted against him, adjusting to nestle a little closer. the warmth of your skin, the soft rise and fall of your breath, everything about this moment felt so perfectly right—as if the universe had aligned just for the two of you. he had never known peace until now. the kind of peace that made his heart settle in a way he never realized it could.

your fingers traced lazy circles on his chest, the motion so soothing that it made him want to close his eyes and forget about the world outside. but the world, in all its new, brilliant color, was nothing compared to you.

"i still can't believe it," theo murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "how i never saw the world the way i do now... how i almost closed myself off to the possibility of a soulmate."

you pulled back slightly, lifting your head to look at him, your eyes still as bright as the first time he'd seen them, even if now they were surrounded by the hues of a million shades he couldn't describe. your gaze softened as you pushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear, your fingertips grazing his skin in a way that made his heart thump uncomfortably fast.

"i guess it’s a good thing you didn't, huh?" you teased, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips, but there was an undeniable softness in your eyes, an understanding that only you could give him.

theo shifted slightly, his chest tightening with a quiet emotion he didn’t fully understand but knew was rooted in the purest kind of affection.

"you’ve changed everything," he said, his voice thick with something tender—something almost too big for his chest to hold. "i never needed color. i never needed anyone." he took a slow breath, letting his eyes meet yours, locking onto the deep hues of your soul that were now more than just a feeling; they were as real to him as the air he breathed.

"and yet... there you were." he finished, the words leaving his lips with a quiet finality. "from the moment i saw you, you were everything to me."

you gave him a smile that lit up his entire world, even brighter than the colors he'd once thought he'd never need. your hand reached for his, your fingers intertwining with his with a natural ease that made everything feel like it was meant to be.

"and there i was," you said softly, your hand reaching up to gently cup his cheek. "you don’t have to carry it all alone, theo. i’m here, always. just… let me be the one you need."

theo felt the corners of his lips tug into a small, genuine smile, the weight of his worries dissipating in the air between you. you were everything. in your presence, there was no need for anything more. the colors, the love—it was all right here. in this moment. with you.

"always, sweetheart," theo whispered, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "forever."

and with that, the rest of the world— once dim and somber, now full of brilliant color and light—felt like it could wait. as long as he had you by his side, he was exactly where he needed to be.

[d-emeter]

Breakfast, lunch and dinner (or: cod characters and how they eat you out) — plus-size!fem!reader x cod characters

Includes: Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, König, Graves, Alejandro, Rudy, Valeria

Note: take this as my formal apology for being inactive for so long :') exam week had me hanging on by a thread and i'm also suddenly moving so. yay. expect some more action after like... this week i hope

John Price

Listen. Getting eaten out by Captain Price is not, in any way, meant for your pleasure. No, this is him disciplining you. It hardly even matters what for. Maybe you have been teasing him, sliding your hand up his thigh under the table, rubbing your ass against him while passing by him. Maybe you've been a brat all day, complaining and huffing and puffing about everything, barely listening to any of John's requests and/or demands. Either way, sit on his desk and spread your fucking legs, doll. He'll be edging you for what feels like hours, tongue moving so torturously slow that all coherent thought has seeped from your brain aside from how badly you want to cum. Too bad, bad girls don't deserve to finish this easily.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

With Simon, it's always a surprise what position you'll end up in. The only certainty you have is that it's definitely not what you'd expect, and sometimes you wish that for once he'd just lay you down and get busy. But alas, he'll have you kneeling with your face in the pillows, or bent over the back of the couch. Maybe he'll have you hanging off the edge of the bed so all the blood flows to your already overheating brain. You're clinging onto whatever you can get a hold on, mostly in pleasure, and sometimes in fear of falling when he has you up on his shoulders and leaned against the wall. Well, he doesn't exactly hear your complaining over your moans and whimpers, he argues, and he wouldn't dream of dropping you.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish

As with Price, this has little to do with your pleasure: it's all for his own benefit. Please, lass, he loves your cunt, and she loves him, doesn't she? Come on, let him have a taste. He could give two shits about where you are or how convenient it is— if he wants to lick your pussy, he's going to. He's down on his knees while you're desperately clinging onto the kitchen counter, or the shower wall, or the shelves of your pantry. Hell, you'd have to hope and pray a sales associate won't come by your changing room in fear of them hearing all of his moans. Oh, and you quickly find out you cannot wear a skirt around him, because it won't come down from your hips if he has any say in it.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

He's devastatingly methodical. He knows your body better than you do at this point, and he's not afraid to use this to his advantage. He can work you just right, but the worst part is that he will refuse to. Unless you kindly ask him for it, that is. Tsk, pretty girl, use your words. Let him know where you need him, what you need him to do. He's hovering close enough that you can feel his breath on your neglected clit, your cunt clenching around nothing in desperate search for friction of any kind, but he won't do anything until you tell him in excruciating detail what you want. And be aware, any time you stop talking, he's pulling away in a second.

König

Oh, König... Sweet, wet-rag-of-a-man loser that he is, will completely lose his mind any time you allow him near your pussy. He can practically feel his brain melting while he's drowning himself in your slick, and he looks like it too. His eyes have rolled back, face flushed and his eyebrows scrunched in pure, unadulterated pleasure. His body has turned to complete mush, his cock leaking against the sheets and hands clawing onto any part of your body he can reach (which, with his arms, is basically everywhere). Unintelligible mumbles made into your cunt, teetering the edge between praise and begging. He is a little inexperienced, Schatz, so you'll have to show him how you like it. Shove his face between your folds and ride his nose, and you'll have him moaning like a bitch in heat. When he finally comes back up for air you can tell you're not the only one that reached heaven just now.

Philip Graves

I'm going to speak my truth here, he does not strike me as the kind of man to give you oral all that much. I am SORRY, but it's true. He usually prefers to get you nice and ready for him with his fingers, or by having you ride his thigh, or simply from the absolute filth he spews into your ear while dry-humping. However, on the odd occasion that Phil does get down and dirty, he aims to make it special. It's strangely sentimental, actually. It'd be outside on a picnic blanket after his homecoming, or in your shared bed after your anniversary dinner. Anything that reminds him how much he loves you, and how much you mean to him, and he's going to show you with his tongue. There's reverence in every suck, praise in every lick and prayer in every word he murmers into your core. You're his goddess and he's just here to worship you, baby.

Alejandro Vargas

For Ale, it'd be a form of gratuity much in the same way it is for Graves, though the difference is that he'll use that as an excuse even for the most menial things. His belly nice and full after your homecooked dinner, grin on his face and asking when his dessert is being served. You've been so good to him, amor, welcoming him home with a smile and a kiss and a plate waiting for him, now let him thank you properly. You fixed the button on his shirt that had fallen off? Well, put it on and lay yourself down, time to lap at your cunt in thanks. It's gotten to a point where you're convinced he just decided his goal in life is to pull as many orgasms from you as possible. Not that you're complaining, of course.

Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parras

Eating you out is, in many ways, a means to an end for Rudy. He wants to make sure you're properly prepped and ready to take his cock, so it's almost instinctual for him to bury his face between your soft thighs for a while before inching himself into you. It's part of the routine, the way he thought sex was supposed to go. It's not until you explain to him that it can actually be the main event, and that you'd thoroughly enjoy it if he maybe put in a little more effort, that it dawns on him just how much he can actually do down there and how much time he's wasted not doing it. Now, tesoro, you may have shot yourself in the foot with that one, because he now can keep you pinned down for hours, just suckling away at your clit and fucking you on his tongue, dumb grin on his face after your fifth orgasm renders you basically comatose.

Valeria Garza

The only way Valeria will actually relax for once is with your pussy in her face. Seriously, you've tried everything else: lavender baths, deep tissue massages, even trying to get her to meditate. But no, the only time you actually see her shoulders lose all their tension is when she's between your folds. She's had such a long day, vida, come sit on her face. She's not even groping you the way she usually does during sex, hands instead playing idly with the fat of your thighs and ass while all her worries melt away. There are no thoughts running through her mind aside from how good you taste, how pretty you sound and how nice you feel under her hands.

[angelart67]

OK... So I don't have Instagram, which is probably because it is META owned & if I gave up my FakeBook, it makes no sense why I would just jump to another platform owned by the same entity... YES, I DO KNOW THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS... Only wrote it cause this makes me wish I could ONLY SEE the stuff that is WORTH IT on those platforms... LIKE THIS... Soooooo, that said, THANK GOD, you posted this on Tumblr as well... TY TY TY TY TY

MANY more ppl need to see n read this. BECAUSE, whatever rights or options or do-overs you think you have due you, this fact is MEDICALLY PROVEN...

Abortion STOPS A BEATING 💓🙏💔😇PLEASE don't murder God's Miracles...

OH WAIT... Before someone out there goes off on me because they just ASSume I have no stake in this, don't know what I'm talking about, or think I'm trying to kidnap their uterus... LISTEN UP... PLEASE, & I am NOT calling anyone out of their name, so let's see if we can possibly just stay on track with facts, for once, & not behave like bullies...

I do TY in advance for that...

I gave birth to 4 children, 2 were full term, 1 was "overbaked" family funny there, & 1 was extremely premature (especially for it being the 80's when they knew far less about premature infants) I also have suffered thru multiple miscarriages, & yep BIG DIFF between that happening to a woman & calling for an appt to end things on purpose... Every miscarriage I went thru made ME feel the same way I'd have felt, had I lost any of my living children (like stillbirth), they were ALL DEVASTATING LOSSES... Of my 4 who were born & lived, they are on this earth because my mama raised me to believe, once I am pregnant, planned OR unplanned, it is (in my heart & belief system) God's will, God's miracle, God's choice & MY DUTY... I don't wish to get into ANY debate with ANYONE over religion. Please NOOOO I've still not recovered from my recent political trauma, so have some mercy... So there I was in 4 different situations, at various times between 17 & 30 years old, in my doctors office, being given the news... This part pretty much kills me emotionally, because if only you could step into MY BELIEF SYSTEM for one little minute, please try, IF you were brought up that way, & fully believed that, to have a medical doctor (well 4 actually) not SUGGEST, but almost INSIST you go kill your unborn child you just found out about !!!!!

See... I happened to be born with a rare congenital disorder, which can transfer from mama to baby, BUT rather than even ASK ME about any CHOICE I might want to make, they was ready to pack me off to what I CONSIDER paid killers... If they had bothered to ask me, I could easily have shared that I believe in God, that for whatever reason, (I cannot know in this lifetime) allowed me to be born with this congenital disorder... so MY MIND & HEART reasons this way... out of my mom's 4 kids, only me & 1 brother had/have it, other brother & sister, nary a sign, just fine... Now God allowed me to have it, BUT HE also allowed me to get pregnant with my child... can't you just suppose (pretend again if you must) but if this ALL KNOWING GREATER POWER, I call God allowed BOTH of those occurrences to take place, MAYBE it was so I NEEDED to place my faith in Him? That is what was required, that is what was in my prayers, "Please Father God, just take care of my baby & help me be strong, whatever Your will." When I was a little kiddo, by the way, there was no medical test for my congenital disorder... back then, you got diagnosed by certain characteristics of the anatomy, having to do with skeletal system, cardiac system, vision, & muscular systems. So that is how my brother & I were diagnosed... nobody knows before my dear mom who else may have had it, because really nothing was specifically known 2 generations prior... Yes, my mom died when I was 17, as a direct result of this condition, in fact it was literally ONE WEEK before I discovered I was pregnant, so think again (as me) I am a teenager, just lost my mom last week, then found out I am pregnant, & a medical doctor (who knew those facts by the way) is suggesting I go murder what became my beautiful daughter, not to mention the mama of my ONLY grandchild... My daughter became my shining beam of sunlight & life, thru the death of my mom, helping me have good reason to get thru some of the most difficult days of loss I ever felt... So, anyone out there wanna clue me in about MY CHOICE... Well, that's OK, I only had ONE choice because my Bible instructs me, "Thou shalt not kill", & I assure you there is no clause or addendum attached to that COMMANDMENT that says

A. Unless this is inconvenient for you... B. Unless you have no faith in Me to care... C. Unless you are concerned about money...

Naaaaa... no such deals, not for me, & not for billions of other people raised with similar beliefs, in a menagerie of various religious belief systems... so is it that hard to believe that while there are SOME OUT THERE, I'm sure who simply don't believe in God, but are ONLY bent on stealing your RIGHTS... Don't you think there's a LOT who simply feel it is our God given duty to try & stop what we view as one of the worst crimes against humanity? Is it possible? Cause I'm nice, I swear, I'm not out to get anyone... but when I've spent 30 odd years working in the health industry, & I am so beyond aware of the medical facts, & ALL OF THEM in my eyes, PROVE LIFE FROM CONCEPTION but when I first learned about things like "partial birth abortion" I am HORRIFIED !!! & no, I'm not just saying everyone is going to carry almost to term, or to term in some instances, & then grab the long surgical scissors, (I mean the BRAIN SCRAMBLER) & by the way, that IS DEFINATELY NOT why we are born with a soft spot... but to me, if it's 6 weeks, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, months, no matter, it is the KILLING of a human who is completely unable to defend itself, NOBODY is giving these kids a choice, they call em slimeblobs, to be able to live with it IMO...

I've been there, I HAVE lived it, 1 of my 4 was (possibly) the result of rape, because that happened to me, just around the time I got pregnant... we just did not know until after birth when it could be proven one way or the other, & yes, THANK GOD she ultimately wasn't the rapists child, but I promise you as God is my witness, had I known THEN, like I wasn't in my relationship, so I KNEW... I still could never have ended her life... medical facts DO PROVE life begins at conception, the medical field simply use various terms, to show what point things are at, so even if embryo or fetus sounds like blob to you, it's not, not at all, & if you only be selfless for a little while, my point is beyond proven... NOTHING that isn't alive has a heartbeat or organs forming more each day, & the scientific list goes on...

My brother, who was also born with my same congenital issues, passed away in his early 40s as a direct result of the condition... so does that mean he had nothing to offer this world in his 4 decades? Nowadays, they developed a blood test that gives a definitive yes/no answer about what I live with. There is no more figuring it out from aspects of your anatomy... I've now surpassed the age my brother & mother passed away at, about to be 58 in the spring... I don't know how or why my Father in heaven has kept me going this long, I assure you, I am far from healthy, but I like to think I contributed a LOT of good, in my time here, & I'm blessed my mom didn't just think, "Aww screw it, she might be born all messed up." & do me in... Had that happened, this world would also be (probably) without any of my 3 siblings, their children, grandchildren & and great-grandchildren, without my 4, & without my grandson... & By the way, my kids had the blood test that now exists, NONE of them have it... so I'd have also murdered them pointlessly, had I listened to the doctors...

I'm done, I pray I made an impact with SOMEBODY SOMEWHERE, I pray I at least make others think & reason things through...

God Bless & Keep You, & may He protect those who can't protect themselves, 🙏😇

[spiderb00]

- FAM OUT #5

Sophia Laforteza x reader  fam/kids out masterlist

“on a quiet night, no one expected it, but something was wrong with Yoonchae. And now, you and Sophia will face it together” 

Genre – fluff, angst?        Warnings – no one knows who Evie is 

Now playing – Unstable, by Justin Bieber Ft. The Kid LAROI 

The moonlight coming through Yoonchae's window was the only thing that allowed her to see in the dark room, and even though it wasn't much, the maknae still didn't care. To tell the truth, Yoonchae wasn't even fully aware of where she really was. Was she at home? Was she at the Kats'? Was she at Yn and Sophia's? She had no idea. The pain and fever spoke louder than her thoughts.   

Getting out of bed with some difficulty, Yoonchae tried to walk to the bedroom door. Holding her stomach, the younger girl moaned in pain, stopping walking and leaning on the bedroom walls for a moment.  

“Mom...”   

It was the only thing that echoed off the walls of Yn's house, all the rooms extremely quiet except for the moans and complaints of pain coming from Yoonchae's room.   

“Mom, please...” Still without an answer, Yoonchae continued walking, opening the bedroom door and trying to walk down the dark hallway.   

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, you were resting your back comfortably on the counter, drinking water. Thirst had caught you in your sleep, and as quiet as the whole house was, you could have sworn you saw someone muttering something. Deciding to see if everything was all right, you left the empty bottle on the counter, Scooby following you faithfully while Max stayed in bed with Sophia.  

Starting up the stairs, you heard another moan of pain, which sounded a lot like Yoonchae, and before you could even hurry, Max's bark echoed through the house, signaling that he had gotten up to investigate what was wrong, just like you.   

“Mom...”  

That was all you needed to hear to know it was Yoonchae's voice. Hurrying up the stairs, you found the girl at your bedroom door, slightly bent over as if in pain.   

“Yoonchae?” You said, coming close to the maknae, putting your hand on her shoulder.   

“Mom, please, my belly hurts.”   

Not even having time to think about what the girl had called you, you put your hand on Yoonchae's forehead, seeing how burning she was.   

“God, you're burning up with fever, Yoonchip.” As soon as you closed your mouth, the younger girl's body fell apart around you.   

“YOONCHAE!” 

Quickly taking the little girl into your arms, you opened the bedroom door, placing her in the empty space of the bed. Max and Scooby were barking, as if they knew exactly what was wrong in the room, and you quickly tried to wake Sophia without taking your eyes off Yoonchae.   

“Sophia!” You tried, shaking your girlfriend lightly, and trying to keep Yoonchae awake. “Come on baby! Yoonchae, don't close your eyes!”   

It was all too much, and you didn't want to panic. No, you had to stay calm.   

“Mom, please, my belly hurts a lot.” Yoonchae said, her voice hoarse, like you'd never heard it before.   

“I know baby, I'm waking Sophia up.” You said, trying to calm the girl down and trying to wake up the Filipina, who seemed to be very far from the real world in her sleep.   

“Sophia!” Calling out once more, you moved a little away from Yoonchae, walking over to your girlfriend's side of the bed and shaking her harder.   

“WAKE UP!” Stunned, Sophia woke up in a jump, seeing you standing next to her on the bed. Looking at the clock on the bedside table, Sophia narrowed her eyes, the digital clock reading 02:34 in the morning.  

“Baby, we have a problem.”  

Returning to the side of the bed where Yoonchae was, you grabbed the younger girl's forehead again, begging the heavens that her temperature was more normal.   

“ Damn, she's still burning.” You said, putting pillows under Yoonchae's head and looking at Sophia. “Baby, Yoonchae's burning up with fever, I've been calling you for a while. We've got to get to the hospital,” you said, barely having time to breathe.   

Quickly getting out of bed, Sophia finally understood what was going on. She took Yoonchae in her arms and felt her temperature with her hands.  

“Mom, no hospital, please.” Yoonchae said to Sophia, making the older woman look questioningly in your direction, seeing you shrug and go into the closet to put on clothes other than pajamas.   

“Stay down, baby. I'll be back in a minute.” Sophia said, leaving Yoonchae lying down and walking hurriedly towards you.   

“She called me 'mom'.” Sophia said, as she entered the closet you shared, watching you take off your old hoodie and put on a more presentable sweater.   

“I know, she called me that too, I think she's delirious with fever.” You said, finishing putting on your sweater. “We have to get her to hospital as soon as possible, baby.”   

“I know. Can you take her to the car while I pack a bag with our stuff?” Sophia asked, putting on one of your sweaters and exchanging the shorts she was wearing for pants.   

“I'll wait for you outside.” You said, giving Sophia a kiss and heading towards where Yoonchae was.   

Carrying Yoonchae bridal style to the car, you gently placed the girl in the back seat of the car, trying to remember if she had eaten something wrong, or done anything that had left her in this state. You were stressed, you knew the girls were working hard for their comeback, but you didn't want to think of it as exhaustion, you didn't want to have to shout at anyone for overworking a seventeen-year-old girl.  

“Mom?!”   

“I'm here baby, it's okay. Sophia will be down in a few minutes.” You said, running your hands through Yoonchae's hair as you tried to get her to be quiet.   

“Are we really going to the hospital?” The younger girl asked, her eyes downcast, and if you could, you would transfer everything she was feeling to you.   

“I'm sorry, sweetheart, but your fever is too high.” You saw a small tear run down Yoonchae's eye, and wiping it away, you kissed the maknae on the forehead. “Hey, don't cry, I'm here with you.”  

“Can I call Evie when I'm there?” Yoonchae asked, making you look confused. And before you could ask who 'Evie' is, Sophia was running to the car, telling you to drive. 

“Sophia is with her, I just wanted to let you guys know what's going on.” You said into the phone, Yoonchae's parents on the other side of the line. “The doctors have given her some medication, just enough to bring down her high fever and they're investigating where the stomach ache is coming from, but it looks like it's just something she ate.”   

Walking back and forth in the hospital hallway, you had your phone stuck to your right ear, Yoonchae's parents were calm on the other side of the line, a stark contrast to how you were a few minutes ago. Despite everything, their calmness made you start to calm down too, and thanks to the hospital, Yoonchae had stabilized and stopped “ delirious”.  

“I trust you and Sophia, Yn. Just keep sending me updates and if she doesn't get better we'll buy the first plane ticket to Los Angeles.” Yoonchae's mother said, hearing your tired sigh on the other end of the line.   

“I just... got scared. I try not to show it to Sophia, or to Yoonchae, but I was so scared.” You said, tears welling up in your eyes.   

“Honey, you didn't do anything wrong. I know, it's scary, but it just shows me how much you care about my daughter, and I wanted to say thank you, to you and Sophia. Thank you for taking such good care of my Yoonchae. You'll be great mothers one day.”   

A solitary tear fell from your eyes. Maybe life really was preparing you and Sophia for the future. Damn, you couldn't wait for the future.   

“Now go and get some rest, and don't forget to text me.”   

“I'll tell Yoonchae to call you when she gets better.” You said, starting to say goodbye to Mrs. Jeong.   

Hanging up the phone, you leaned back against the wall, your head falling back against the wall as you let out a big sigh. It was 4:23 AM and you had never driven so fast in your entire life. You were tired, sleepy, but you were so relieved, Yoonchae was safe, and you would do it all over again if you had to.   

Sitting in one of the chairs in the hallway, you waited. The doctor had said that it was best for only one person to go in with Yoonchae, and Sophia offered so quickly that you couldn't deny it. Just as your eyes were about to close, you heard the door in front of you open, and then close with a satisfying click.   

“Her fever has gone down considerably, and the pain is gone.” Sophia said, taking a seat next to you on the left. “She finally managed to sleep, so I came to see how you were.”  

Giving your girlfriend a slight smile, you grabbed her right hand, where the ring you gave her - when she was still at the Dream Academy - rested.   

“I've called her parents, and also the Kats, everything will be fine.” you said, leaving a kiss on Sophia's hand, on top of where the ring rested.   

“I know. When you're with me, everything works out. You give me strength, Yn.” Sophia said, lightly dragging the chair closer to you and resting her head on your shoulder. “I always manage to stay calm because you're always there to calm me down.”   

Looking at your hands together, you thought about how much you loved Sophia, and that you wouldn't trade her for anything in the world. You hated things like that happening, but when you had Sophia by your side, everything seemed to soften, and that despair disappeared, you simply became a thousand times stronger when you were with Sophia. And while she thought you were her strength, only you knew that your strength actually came from her. It was inevitable, you completed each other.   

“Do you want to see her?” Sophia asked, lifting her head from your shoulder before she fell asleep right there.   

Shaking your head, you both got up, going to the room Yoonchae was in. Opening the door, you both tried not to make a sound, but failed miserably when the door creaked open and woke the younger girl.   

“Sorry, baby. That was just the two of us trying to be discreet.” Sophia said, making Yoonchae laugh slightly.   

“Hey, are you feeling better?” You asked, coming close and smoothing Yoonchae's mussed hair.   

“Yeah, I don't know what that was about, but I hope I never have to go through that again.” The younger girl said, relaxing into your caresses on her head.  

“Yeah, you gave us quite a scare. Do you remember anything?” You asked.  

“I was very confused, but I know I called you both mom.” Yoonchae said, her cheeks immediately turning a shade of pink. “Sorry about that.”   

“Yoonchip, you don't have to apologize.” Sophia says, reaching over and taking the maknae's hand in hers.   

“It's just... I love you both very much, and you're always looking out for me. I just think I projected a bit...” Yoonchae said, putting her free hand on her face to cover her red cheeks.  

“We love you very much, Yoonchae.” You said, taking the hand that covered her face. “You'll always be our daughter.” You said, in a playful tone, making Sophia agree.  

“Thanks guys.” 

“All right, how about I see if there's anything for us to eat for breakfast, huh?” You said, moving away a little to go towards the bedroom door.   

“I'll be back soon, Fam.” You said, making a peace sign - which made Yoonchae laugh and Sophia sneer at you - before walking out the door.   

And for a minute, thoughts of a family took over your mind, maybe you should start planning your wedding to Sophia, maybe look at engagement rings, it doesn't matter if it's too soon, you wanted everything to be perfect.   

Taken by these thoughts and the whole situation, you forgot one important detail...  

Who the hell is Evie? 

Hi guys, how are you? I hope you're all well.

Evie is closer than you think!!!

I missed writing for Fam out so much, I wrote this chapter in two hours (I think). But I hope you all like it as much as I did.

Actually, the plot of this chapter came from one of my anons, <3 anon, here's the request, if you're interested in reading it.

<3 anon is a very frequent anon here on the blog and even helped me create Evie, so much love to this anon!

I feel like I've said too much, so I'll end here. I'm excited to write the next chapters, but for now I'm going to put off some other requests.

xoxo, spider.

[foolinthera1n]

✮ BORN TO DIE

─ dw x fem!reader

cw! angst, blood, break ups, fighting, mentions of death, slight religious aspects

dean didn't think. he didn't breathe, didn't blink, didn't even take his eyes off the road as he sped the impala down the highway, fingers white-knuckled on the steering wheel. he hadn't taken his foot off the gas since he got in the car, not since he heard your voicemail, and he only stepped on it harder when bobby called.

the shakiness of your voice haunted him, the spluttering laugh that turned into a gut wrenching coughing fit echoed like a broken record in his head, only making him push the speed limit harder. bobby's voice had been calm, but dean could hear the undertone of panic in the old man's voice that reflected his own.

so dean drove as fast as he could without burning baby's tires, his heart in his throat as your last confession rang in his ears.

i'm just sorry i wont get to tell you i love you one last time.

it was dean's birthday, of all days─not that he ever really celebrated it. in fact sam had been out grabbing pie and a case of beers for the two of them, when dean had finally checked his phone after being caught up in a shifter case all day, his heart dropping as he saw you had left him a voicemail.

he knew you wouldn't call unless something was seriously wrong, you had told him as much the last time you called, which was mostly telling him to stop drunk calling you. so his hands had shaken as he lifted the phone to his ear, his whole body freezing as your weak voice and self proclaimed last words were spoken through the phone.

it was by some miracle that bobby's call came just as your voicemail had finished, because only god knows what he would have done if he had been left to his own devices after possibly listening to you die in a voicemail. a fucking voicemail.

the only thing that stopped dean from going insane was bobby telling him that he had you, that he thinks you're stable, but he can't be sure, and he thinks dean is gonna want to see you.

so he didn't hesitate, not for a second, to throw his jacket on and grab his keys, only leaving sam a curt note about where he was going. thankfully, they weren't too far from bobby's place in sioux falls, having just come from a pit stop there themselves, so the only thing dean had to focus on was remembering the exit to take in a few miles.

as he drove though, he thought about you. he didn't want to think about your weak, shortening breaths that could be heard through the speaker of the phone, or the spluttering of blood from your mouth that he heard when you had coughed, so he focused on the last time he saw you.

you were beautiful. even when you were angry, especially when you were angry, like you were then, you were beautiful. and although his own anger simmered under his skin, he found himself lost in the way your lips moved as you spoke, and how the dim lighting of the motel room you were staying in cast a glow over you that formed a halo around your head, making you look angelic.

dean hated angels, he really did. and ever since finding out what brainless dicks they really were a few years ago, he doesn't like to compare things to them, but you. oh, you. dean thought that if he went back to the first days of existence and asked anyone what they thought an angel was, they would draw a picture of you.

you, with your eyes narrowed and lips pursed, shoulders tensed as you yelled at him, calling him overbearing and accusing him of not trusting you. god, he had wanted to kiss you so bad. he knew he could, you'd said before with a giggle that you loved when he shut you up by kissing you, but he'd figured in that moment that he wasn't allowed to do that.

it was only when you suggested that maybe things weren't going to work out anymore that he snapped out of it.

"what?" he had asked, heart dropping to his stomach as his eyes went wide. "what the hell are you talking about? we just need to talk it out."

"that's the problem, dean," you had argued, and dean had never hated himself more than when he saw the tears welling in your breath taking eyes. "we always say we're gonna talk it out, but we never do. it ends with us in the sheets, and just builds until we fight again, because you're too afraid to face your goddamn feelings!"

that had snapped something in dean, the accusation hitting right on the money as the natural instinct to push you away bubbled to the surface, rearing it's ugly head. "oh, i'm too scared?" he had spat, taking a step closer to you. "well, sweetheart, you're the one who is so incompetent that i have to save your ass every goddamn time!"

every second of every day since that moment, he wished he could take that back. he had said a lot of things during your relationship, but the one thing that he never insulted was your ability as a hunter. that was something that you just never did. and he knew he fucked up as soon as he had seen your face fall, tears welling so thickly in your hurt eyes that he hadn't been sure you could still see.

"is that how you feel?" you had asked, your voice small and breaking slightly.

dean had swallowed, trying to force down the self sabotaging words that were crawling up his throat, but they spilled out before he could stop them. "yeah. it is."

you had just looked at him with a searing hurt in your eyes that had burned a hole in his weeping heart, a tear finally slipping down your flushed cheek. "well, if that's really how you feel, then maybe i should just leave."

his bleeding heart had begged, cried, and screamed for him to take it back, to grab you in his arms and hold you until you stopped crying, for him to get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness until his bones ached and you smiled at him again.

but he didn't.

he just looked away from you, fists clenched, nails digging into his palms as he fought off tears of his own and muttered through gritted teeth, "maybe you should."

dean hadn't looked at you, but he had felt the weight of your stare as it burned through his bones. he still hadn't looked at you when you had muttered a broken, "fine", and walked over to the bed, and threw your stuff into your beat up duffle bag without a word.

you had stormed past him, your shoulder brushing his, but dean didn't stop you as you reached for the door. he only turned to face you when he heard you stop, forcing himself to keep a stoic expression, even as his aching mind, soul, and body begged him to grab you and not let you leave.

you had turned to face him then, your hand lingering on the doorknob, and he thinks a piece of his soul was chipped away when he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks.

dean had never used the term devastatingly beautiful, but that's what you had been then. because although the pain he had caused you was written on the features he cherished so much, tears dragging your makeup down your face, you still looked beautiful. devastatingly beautiful.

and even though the next words you had spoken had torn him into pieces, the beauty of you, inside and out, never left his rotten mind.

"i wish it wasn't so easy to love you."

dean snaps out of it as a mile sign whizzes by, and his vacant eyes flick to the speedometer to see that he's doing about twenty over the speed limit. he doesn't care though, all he cares about is that your heart is still beating. whether it's for him or not.

dean bursts into bobby's house, not bothering to knock as he rushes in, slamming the door behind him.

"bobby?" he calls out, trying to keep his voice level as no answer comes. "damnit, bobby, where are you?"

he's about to completely tear the place down when there's a rustling followed by heavy footsteps and a familiar voice. "don't blow the house down, boy, i'm right here."

bobby comes around the corner, into the hallway, and though usually there's a comfort in seeing the man dean considers a father figure, this time there's still an aching panic in his chest.

"where is she? is she okay? what happ-" dean cuts himself off as his eyes drift down to bobby's hands, which are covered in blood. your blood. "oh god.."

the old man seems to notice the look of pure terror on dean's face, and follows his gaze down to his hands, sighing at the sight of the blood.

"she's okay, dean," bobby tells him, taking a step towards him, and dean thinks he might be shaking. "there was a moment where-" he cuts himself off, looking away for a moment, as if debating what to say before he meets dean's gaze again. "there was a moment where i thought she wasn't, but she pulled through. she's okay now."

the moment the sincerity and truth of bobby's words rang through dean's head, he felt like he could finally breathe again. he let's out a deep exhale, wobbling slightly on his feet as he runs a hand over his face, cursing to himself softly.

after he takes a second to collect himself and calm his racing heart, he looks up at bobby, brow furrowed as he swallows down the suffocating panic. "can...can i see her?"

the old man hesitates, a protective edge in his eyes that makes dean realize that you probably told him everything. he watches as bobby thinks it over, before the old man sighs, his shoulders dropping slightly as he nods.

"yeah..you can see her," bobby agrees, but as dean takes a step forward, he holds up his hand, stopping dean in his tracks with a pointed look. "but i'm not so sure she's gonna want you there when she wakes up, kid. so if she opens her eyes and freaks out when she sees you, then y're gonna have to leave."

that chips another piece of dean's heart away, the fragment falling further into the pit of self despair that has been building in dean's chest since he hurt you and let you walk away from him.

"please, bobby," he rasps, his voice breaking slightly as emotions blur in his head. "i just need to see her. i...i just need to see she's okay."

the old man looks slightly shocked at the desperation in dean's voice, and something softens in his gaze. "she's been through a lot, boy," he sighs, giving dean a pointed look, though this time it's less menacing. "and i love you like my own, but right now she's my priority and if you being here is gonna stop her from healin', then i'm sorry dean, but y'cant stay."

dean nods, forcing himself to swallow the lump in his throat that threatens to choke him. "i don't wanna hurt her," he responds, his voice dropping to a pained whisper. "not more then i already have. i just- she called me, and hearin' her on the phone like that? thinkin' that might be the last time i ever hear her voice, on a fucking voicemail?"

he cuts himself off, averting his eyes from bobby as he forces the tears that burn behind his eyes to stay hidden. "i need to see her, bobby. please."

there's a moment of silence, and when dean lifts his eyes, bobby is staring right back at him, his expression slightly shocked at the rare display of emotions from him. but after a moment, the old man nods, stepping back and gesturing for dean to follow him.

at first he just stands there, but then he's rushing after bobby, each step determined but shaky as he follows the man into the main room.

dean's eyes scan the room, frantically searching for you, and when he finally does, he freezes.

you're laying on the couch, eyes closed and so pale. your skin is void of almost all of its usual color, your cheeks sunken and your lips chapped and sullen. the only thing keeping dean from passing out or falling to his knees in front of you and praying until you wake up is the shaky rise and fall of your chest that he can see under the blanket that bobby's placed over you.

said man places a comforting hand on dean's shoulder, but dean doesn't turn around, even as he hears bobby's footsteps echo down the hallway. he can't move his eyes from you, scared that if he does, you'll somehow slip from his grasp again.

he takes a couple hesitant steps closer and something curls in his gut, gripping his heart and wrenching it until it bleeds as he lets his eyes roam over your face. your familiar features are pale and sullen, but still, dean can't think of anything he's ever seen that's more beautiful than you.

devastatingly beautiful. that term pops into his head again, and this time, the words stab at something deep inside him, something he's always been too afraid to name.

because you are. and it's not just your features─though dean swears you could power a whole city just from smiling, the way it lights up your face─it's your mind, your soul, the way you laugh, the softness of your voice. it's everything. it's you.

you are devastatingly beautiful because you devastate him, crashing your way into his heart over and over again, making him high off you, making him never want to come down.

dean has to remind himself to breathe as he tentatively walks over to where you're laying, exhaling shakily before falling to his knees on the floor in front of you as if he was sitting in front of an altar, about to worship.

his now teary eyes scan over you, and before he can stop himself, he reaches a shaky hand out and brushes some of your hair out of your face.

lightning strikes through him as his skin touches yours, and he fights the urge to pull back, letting his fingertips lightly trace your cheek before his hand drifts down, finding your own and intertwining your fingers.

when he doesn't feel the familiar squeeze back of your hand, something in him breaks.

his head drops to your shoulder, his body shaking as quiet sobs tear from his chest, his teats staining the flannel you wore, his face buried into the fabric.

"i'm sorry,” he rasps through sobs, turning his head into your shoulder, burrowing into the skin of your neck, nausea creeping up his throat when he doesn’t feel your familiar warmth. he presses his lips against your skin, unable to stop the million apologies that spill from his lips. “i’m sorry, sweetheart, i'm so sorry. i love you, i’m sorry. ’m sorry, im so sorry.”

dean stays there, head pressed against you, sobbing quietly into your skin as he clings to you, praying to anyone that would listen that you would wake up. that you would come back to him and he could hold you in his arms and sob a million more apologies into your skin until you forgave him, even if he didn't deserve it.

he needed you to come back to him. he needed your touch, your kiss, your laughter, your stupid jokes that always made him laugh, your whispered words, and your loving stare.

he needed you.

and in that moment dean decided that when you woke up─not if, because he didn't know what he would do if he let himself think about that─he would try his damn hardest to get you back, because even though he doesn't think he deserves happiness, he knew he had it with you.

when you left, and took that piece of him with you, he broke. and all he wanted was to let you fix him again.

but you couldn't. because even as dean cried against you, you didn't stir, didn't flinch, the only reason he knew you were still hanging on was the shallow rise and fall of your chest under where his hand, intertwined with yours was rested firmly, and dean didn't know if he'd ever get that happiness back.

and as he sat there with you, at the foot of the altar he would give his all just to be worthy enough to worship, all he could think about was how he was begging for whatever God or being was listening that if they took you from him, they better fucking take him too.

because even if you hated him, even if you cursed him out, screamed at him to never talk to you again, dean didn't want to live in this world if you weren't in it.

bri's thoughts!: okay so this took me kinda long to finish, and was lowkey supposed to be out for my baby's birthday, but oh well. i don't rlly know if i like this, but i already started a part two, so lmk if anybody wants that! also my first time writing from dean's perspective and like angst so i apologize if this is bad, but i hope u enjoyed! (ps this is not proofread, and as always, was written at 1am, so this might be bad..)

TAGS!: (i don't rlly have a taglist so i just tagged some of my mutuals, but lmk if u wanna be added or removed) @ultravi0lence14 @bluemerakis @titsout4jackles @floralscented @soldiersgirl

[captain-huggy-bear]

The Giggles

Pairing: Clayton Keller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI because making out and Kells getting a lil' hot and bothered...maybe a lot hot and bothered

Summary: You have your first ever kiss with Clayton and you can't stop giggling, it's fucking adorable.

Notes: The first time I ever kissed a guy (at 24) I kept giggling (did that every time he kissed me for at least a month) and I think Kells would find it fucking endearing. So that's the inspo for this.

I'm a sucker for late bloomer/inexperienced reader shit cause that be me so have this little brain rot.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

You have no idea what the fuck you are doing. It's so stupid that you've made it this far in life, your 20s, without so much as a kiss and now you're sat in Clayton Keller's car and he's looking at you like that and you're certain he's going to kiss you and you have no idea what you are doing or what you're supposed to do.

It's late, near midnight but neither of you had wanted the date to end and Clayton had suggested you go to a lookout point, sit in his car and talk for as long as you wanted. All on your terms he said, when you wanted to leave he'd take you straight back home. He's been nothing but a gentleman, it makes sitting there with him like that, alone, feel safe, comfortable.

Turns out the lookout point had a great view of the city and the stars. Turns out sitting in a car talking to Clayton Keller makes you never want to go home. There's something about the atmosphere inside the car that has you melting under his attention; the way the interior of the car is lit solely by a few internal lights that give off a cool blue light, how Clayton had put the heating on the moment he saw you shivering, heated seats turned on for added measure, his hand reaching out to rub warmth into your leg until the car warmed itself, how he moved both your seats until your headrests were inline, the fact the music was playing, but so low that it removed the awkwardness of silence while still allowing you two to be in your own bubble.

You were both facing each other in your seats, you leaning your cheek into the leather of the seat, watching him from underneath your eyelashes as he finished telling you about a story from practice. Something about the new pup Archie being brought out onto the ice and scrambling about, all four legs splaying wide as he struggled to grip the ice properly.

He's beautiful, you knew this when he first asked you to go out, but it's even more clear like this when he's smiling wide, teeth on show, dimples deepening as he laughs at the memory. You can't help the way you look at him and he can't help that he notices.

You're so fucking pretty, the way you lean your cheek against his car seat, how you tuck your legs underneath you like you're both sat in his house, on his couch. You wore the prettiest dress to the date and he's been almost incapable of ungluing his eyes from you all night, and now is no exception. In the dim lights of his car you look so fucking soft, sweet, looking up at him from underneath your lashes like he's the most interesting thing in the world.

You blink slow at him as the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, but a silence that's no less filled with tension. You can feel it, the buzz in the air that would normally be your cue to say something that ruins it, something that cuts the tension. The buzz in the air that has you swallowing nervously because his blue eyes keep dipping down to your lips, tracing them like he doesn't want to forget what they look like, like he wants a taste of you.

You try not to jump when he moves slowly, coming to lean into your space, his arm resting over the back of your seat until he's so close you can count the few freckles on his skin, and smell the expensive cologne he's wearing. Your eyes aren't sure where to look; his eyes, his lips, the way his Adam's apples bobs in his throat, that chain of his that peeks out from beneath his dress shirt.

Clay's eyes dart from your own to your lips and back again, his tongue coming out to wet his bottom lip, a motion you instinctively copy. The air feels thick, heavy and there's a roiling buzz in your gut, a giddy sensation so strong you're not sure what to do with it, not sure how to relieve it or cope with it.

"Can I kiss you?"

You can't help it, the giggle slips out without your permission, a hand coming up to cover your lips as look at him all wide eyed and sweet. It's fucking adorable and he can't help the way he smirks at you, eyes becoming more heavily lidded because fuck he wants to kiss you and swallow that giggle in his mouth.

"Can I kiss you? Please, baby?" He asks again, watching the warmth flood your cheeks, the way your eyelashes flutter against the apples of them like the wings of a dove and you lower your hand, lip bitten between your teeth. You're the picture of innocent seduction and it floors him further because you have no idea what you're doing to him.

"...Yes..." Your voice is so so quiet, shy like speaking too loudly might ruin it, might break this moment.

Clayton's free hand reaches out for your cheek, fingers brushing across the warm skin with a reverence that is better suited for worship in a church than the interior of a car at 11:45pm on a Friday night. The nerves grow in your stomach as his fingers trail down, thumb pulling your lip free from between your teeth.

You have to swallow another giggle of nerves as his hand reaches your throat, lightly holding your neck, thumb brushing underneath your jaw in a soothing back and forth that has your eyelids fluttering. He's slow as he leans in, gives you time to pull away at any second, but you don't. For once in your life you stay put in this moment, in this feeling.

His lips are warm against yours, softer than you expected from a hockey player. Bottom lip plush as he captures your own between his lips, you have no idea what you're doing, but you trust your gut, follow his lead, moving your lips against his in a rhythm that you think is passable. Your hand coming up to tangle in the strands of hair at the base of his neck.

When he pulls back, he leaves little distance between you, just enough to breathe, your noses brushing. It's the overwhelming giddy feeling that surges in your stomach, in your blood that has you giggling again, face pressing into his neck to hide it, giggling like a little girl at your first kiss.

"Did you just laugh?" He's not mad, no, he can't be. Not at the cute little giggle that keeps escaping as your feet curl under you, like his kiss has given you a burst of undiluted energy. You're hiding your face into his neck, smile growing against his skin and it makes Clay's own begin, corners starting to turn up, teeth starting to peek out. His hand on your throat flexes, not constricting, just a reminder it's there, that he moved with you, his ring cool against your skin.

"I'm sorry...I don't know what I'm doing..." His smiles grow wider, pressing his face into your hair, nose nuzzling just besides your ear like this isn't the first time you've kissed, like you do this all the time.

"Have you never kissed someone before, baby?" He expects you to say you have, that it's just been a while but you don't, pulling back to look at him, eyes wide and lip back between your teeth like it's found a home there.

"I'm sorry...I...no..." and shit, if he doesn't want to puff up a little at that, that he's the first guy that ever got to kiss you, that's ever got to taste you. That he's the first guy you decided was good enough to get this close to you. That he gets to show you how a kiss should be, how you should be treated...fuck...

"Hey, don't be sorry, just tell me...the giggles are good right?" He smirks at you even as he reassures you because he doesn't want you shying away from him, doesn't want you thinking he has a single problem with how inexperienced you are, cause fuck he wants to show you everything.

You nod shyly, a confirmation that your giggle fits are nothing if not positive, an expression of all the unusual feelings, the giddy rush that fills your body every time he touches you.

"C'mere then, sweet girl," You follow his lead when he grips your hips, leading you to move across the centre console until you're straddling his lap, knees pressing into the warm leather on either side of his thighs, arms over his shoulders, stomach buzzing with nerves as you look down at him.

Clay's hand tugs the skirt of your dress down for you, eyes staying on yours, not daring to peak, covering you properly like a gentleman before you settle comfortably on his lap. His hands smooth over your thighs. His hands so large they're twice the size of yours.

"'m gonna kiss you again, okay?" It's whispered almost on your lips, his hand trailing up slowly, oh so slowly from your thigh, over your hip and ribs, almost ticklish in its course of travel, until it comes to rest back around your throat like it belongs there. Flexing just slightly so you can feel how his whole hand covers your throat, like it was made for the space. The way his ring touches your skin, cool metal against the hammering pulse at your neck, how his fingers have you, firm, but gentle in their grasp, how his bracelets tickle the hollow of your throat.

He can feel your giggle against his palm, the way your throat contracts and relaxes under his hand as you unleash it again, like you can't stop it. The most perfect fucking sound he's ever heard. The giggle you let out doesn't stop him this time, nor the way your eyelashes flutter nervously. He gets it now. You're nervous, you're giddy, your body full of those unknown feelings, things you're not used to, things he's making you feel for the first time.

Clayton's breath is warm across your lips as he hovers just over them for a second before slating his mouth back against yours. His teeth nip at your bottom lip, pulling slightly, tugging until you open up all hesitant and sweet because you had no idea what you're doing even as you giggle and sigh into his mouth, into the taste of the tiramisu he had for dessert.

You gasp at the feeling of his tongue against yours, the way he delves into you hungry, desirous but slow, not rushing as his free hand tangles in your hair, just tugging slightly at the roots. Enough that it sends a warmth through you, every inch of you tingling with a want you've never felt directed at someone before.

One hand of yours curls into his hair, freshly done nails scratching against his scalp in a way that has him groaning low in his throat, the feeling made better by the fact you don't even realise how good you are. Your other hand curling over his shoulder, nails biting into the back of his dress shirt, he wants you to leave a mark, a reminder of this moment, that he's the first man to make you feel like this. That he's the first man to have you falling apart, trembling in his lap like a simple kiss is too much.

The way he kisses you leaves you breathless, head dizzy, teeth clanking together, tongue licking into your mouth like you're the best thing he's ever tasted and you might just be. The hand at your throat tightens, not enough to constrict anything, but just enough to make your head buzz a little, to make you whimper into his mouth like this is all too much, this, something people do everyday, is too much.

You're scrabbling to find purchase on him, holding him close, tight like he's an anchor in rough storm. Every tug of his hair, every dig of your nails into his shoulder, sends tingles down his spine and he has to remind himself this is new for you. This is enough for tonight. Reminds himself not scare you off, no matter how badly he wants to flatten the car seats and climb over top of you, no matter how badly he's straining against his dress pants or how badly he wants to taste you right now. This enough.

When he releases your lips you gasp in a breath like you've been underwater, giggle quickly taking over, loud and bright and so fucking lovely. Uncontrollable as you giggle into his shoulder and he loves it, he loves the warmth of your cheeks, the brightness of your giddy smile, the way you burrow against him in your joy.

He hopes you never lose it. Hopes you giggle every single time he kisses you until the day he dies because there is nothing more beautiful than the naked, raw expression of how he makes you feel. The girlish delight at a man, a guy, you like kissing you for the first time, for the second time, maybe forever?

"Fuck, you're so beautiful..." The way he looks down at you as you're giggling on his shoulder makes you stop, breath non-existent because god, how can he look at you like that with eyes like that an not expect you to fall in love. "So pretty..."

He can't help it, dipping back down to capture your lips because fuck you're gorgeous and pliable and warm. You taste like the cocktail you drank at dinner, a little bit fruity and a little bit alcoholic.

It takes everything in Clayton to pull away. Everything in him to let your lips go, to not drag you to the backseat and spread your thighs for him, but he knows that's too much too soon, knows you need easing in if a kiss makes you have a giggle fit.

His nose nuzzles against yours, smirk firmly in place because you're already trying to hold back another giggle and he just can't help how proud it makes him, to know he's brought you to that, made you a giddy mess in his lap.

"Should probably get you home, 's getting late, baby..."

You want to whine, want to complain, ask to stay here all night but you can feel how hard he is underneath your ass and you know...you know this is his way of being a gentleman, his way of going slow. You know if you ask to stay it'll go further than you're ready for, so you nod instead and let him guide you back to your seat.

You let him fix the skirt of your dress again, like a good boy, covering you up. You let him buckle your seatbelt and don't comment when his fingers linger over your cleavage or pinch your hip lightly.

The whole ride back to your house his hand is on your thigh, maybe a little higher than normal, maybe slipping just slightly under the hem of your dress, pressing circles into your inner thigh in a way that makes your blood heat, makes your cunt tingle because fuck...

You consider it. Consider asking him to come inside, but you can't. Not yet. Still you let him walk you to your front door, let him help you up your steps as if you aren't perfectly capable and when you turn to face him under your porch light, ring doorbell camera capturing the moment, you don't resist when he pushes you lightly into the side of your house. You don't protest when his hands barricade either side of your head, leaning over you until you're in your own little cocoon called Clayton Keller.

"Can I see you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." Fuck, you've never had a guy want to see you so soon, but then you've never had a guy like Clayton Keller. Tonight's full of firsts.

"Yes, please."

It's the sweet little please that you tack on the end that has him groaning, head falling forward, forehead pressing against your own because you're so fucking sweet that he wants to absolutely ruin you.

The lips slant against yours this time in a bruising fashion, desperate, hungry, still he's careful, a hand cushioning your head as it bumps back against the side of your house, a hand at your throat tilting your head back like it'll help him devour you further.

The way he rips his lips from yours to breathe is almost feral, panting over you like he might eat you alive and you consider it, consider letting him, consider unlocking your front door and dragging him in by the hand, consider how it might be to tug at his hair while he kisses down your neck...but you don't.

"Fuck, sweet girl, you're gonna be the death of me, y'know that?"

You can only giggle again, face pressed back into his chest like you might be able to hide from him there and like that he's a goner. He's pretty sure you've dug his heart out from his chest and popped it into your pocket.

His hands, so fucking large one of them could cover your face, tilt your head back gently and away from his chest until you're looking at him again, meeting his baby blues as he smiles down at you all soft and gentle, "Tomorrow, 6pm, I'll pick up, okay?"

"Okay..."

He can't really resist it, the last kiss he presses to your lips, short, sweet but no less delightful than every taste of your lips he's had tonight. "G'night, baby."

"Night, Clay..."

He watches you unlock your door, waits until you wave goodnight, until you're inside, door closed and he hears the distinctive click and turn of the lock before he all but skips down the steps of your porch.

He's practically dancing to his car cause fuck, that's his future wife right there and he's determined to make you his by the end of the month.

[syluriar]

vunerable - sylus x mc!reader

sypnosis: sylus has never been one to give up control, so you try and help him.

a/n: inspired by @yes-no-maybe-soo i legit just read your sylus hc's today and my brain scrambles to write this because althoug i love sylus bing a sub, you made some excellent points of it being hard for him to give up control because of what he went through in his past life (still haven't recovered, anyone else?).

contains: sylus being scared to give up control and not liking these feelings, mc (you) being so gentle with him. there's a slight mention of attmepted murder from sylus' enemies in the past. sylus crying (of that ever happens in game i swear to god-). angst & comfort.

word count: 1381

you straddle him with your hands resting at his hips, his chest is bare that allows you to see his breathing clearer. he's watching you with those ruby eyes you love so much, but you can see a bit of fear in them, unsurprising at the vulnerable position he's in.

it was your idea to do this, to give him the attention he gives you - the warmth, safety and consent. he knows you would never hurt him, but the image of losing all his control reminds him of his past life, as the dragon who has been beaten and chained for thousands of years. when the past you finally freed him he was determined to take control of his life, to never go back to the scared dragon.

he adores you, and you know that, he would do anything for you...but to give up all control, even if it is just you who takes it away...fear creeps back into him.

you lift a hand and reach up to caress his cheek which he immediately nuzzles into to, and he kisses the palm before releasing a sigh,

"it's only me," your voice is so soft, just louder than a whisper, like it was coaxing an animal out of it's shelter. you lean up and cup his face, thumbs brushing against his cheeks. "i'm the only one that's here."

you take one on your hands to gently run through his hair, an action that has him close his eyes to enjoy the feeling, and it makes your heart swell. "we can stop anytime you like, ok?"

a hum comes from his lips as he opens his eyes, and you see that small amount of fear has been replaced by something else.

he hates that you have to him like this, like he's weak, like he's a scared child who needs comforting - he doesn't like that he's showing this side to you, because how can you depend on him if he doesn't stay strong in front of you?

you kiss his forehead and you can feel some of the tension leave his body. a part of you wants to do this fats, you show sylus that yes of course, he can be like this with you, there's no shame and it and you'll always ben there for him , but you need to take it slow. you will show him all these things by listening to him, both words and body. you don't care how long it will take, because it's what he deserves.

you start to leave kisses all over his face, his cheeks, nose, even his chin that makes a small amused huff leave his lips. you're still gentle when you finally place your lips over his own, his hands coming to hold your waist. at any other moment it would be intense, fingers digging into clothing as your tongues fight each other.

but right now it's soft, like a perfect fluffy cushion you relax in. sylus groans at your mouth and you feel good knowing he does too. you see it in his eyes when you pull away, and the slight pink on his cheeks and the tip of his ears.

you giggle. "do you know how cute you look when you blush?"

he sucks in a breath, clearly surprised by your compliment. "cute?" he looks almost amused. "that not a word people associate with me."

"well they don't know you like i do." you give his lips a quick peck to his lips before your hands descend lower to his shoulders, a lot looser than before. "i kinda like it that way."

"and you call me possessive." he chuckles. the air around you two has become easier, the tension slowly fading away.

for some reason your eyes go to his neck, such a strong thing that often aches because of how much he has to look down at you. you move your hands towards his neck, his sharp intake making you freeze.

"oh..." how could you forget a lot of his enemies go for his neck? a common way to end someones life. you felt stupid. "sorry...i was going to massage it. it aches because of how much you have look down on me, doesn't it?"

he doesn't answer you, his eyes cast aside as he continues to breath heavily. your heart aches at the sight and you retract your hands, placing one back on his cheek. "hey, remember, your still in control. stay stop and i will."

his breath shudders and his shoulders tense up once more, his hands now gripping your waist. he sucks through gritted teeth and turns his head away, as if he was ashamed of himself. 

your heart sings with distress at the sight and you want to feel anger of the people that have made sylus this way, but what good will that do here? 

sylus…” you lean your head to meet him and see something shine from his eyes, falling down his cheek.

a tear.

“oh…” you couldn’t hold back at your reach to brush it away, but when your skin makes contact he flinches, and it makes you want to cry yourself. “it’s me, my love. only me. i’m here.” you brush the tear away, fingers gently thumbing in his cheek to help calm him. 

a strangled noise comes from his throat. “i don’t…i didn’t want you to see me like this…” his voice is in a tone you’ve never heard before, one of pain and distress.

“like what?” you reply softly.

he doesn’t answer straight away and you wait patiently, rubbing soothing circles on his shoulders like he had done to yours in times like this. 

“like i am weak, scared…vulnerable.”

you swallow the lump in your throat at his words, each piercing you harshly through the heart. “sylus…there’s nothing with you feeling any of those things.”

“i need to be strong for you.”

“do the strong always require to be strong?”

repeating his own words to him hit him like bricks, his eyes widening and lips parted in shock. ever so gently you cradle his face, his eyes still looking away from you. “wasn’t it you who said that?”

“...it’s not the same.”

“how isn’t it?” you ask, but he doesn’t reply, so you keep talking. “i don’t need you to be strong for me sylus. don’t you think there’s a strongness in being those things? weak, scared and vulnerable?...to me there is.”

your words make him finally look at you, his eyes still holding surprise. “...there is?”

you nod. “even plants and animals have those types of feelings, so you having them is normal. showing them to me is…letting yourself be loved by me even more than you do now. it shows that you trust me to see you this way, and trust me that i won’t turn you away.” 

you lean forward and turn his face to you before grabbing one of his hands and placing it on your chest, your heart beating loudly underneath. “trust me that i will always be patient with you, that i will never rush you and listen to what you say,”

you grab his other hand and bring it to your lips, softly kissing his knuckles and palm before placing it over your cheek. “and trust me that i will always love you, no matter what.”

he hears your love, your utter devotion to him that makes his heart sing. he stares at you with such loving eyes one might say they never knew it existed, but it’s right here, right in this room and in each other's arms.

he kisses you with such intensity, with such love that it almost makes you fall. with your hands on his shoulders you meet his passion, his devotion, his affection and so much more. he cradles your face as your lips part, heavy breaths falling from both. 

“i love you too, my beloved, so so much.”

he holds you tightly with his head buried in your neck, your arms around his neck and brushing through his hair.

you don’t care how many times this needs to happen, to assure him of your love and devotion, of your patient and his consent. 

because you will never, ever hurt him - he deserves better.

[clytemnestradidnothingwrong]

"your fear of men is completely and totally valid, and i understand."

Thanks for this very patronizing statement. We're valid? I despise the stupid baby talk that plagues this hellsite.

"but we are going to be living in a reality very soon where women and trans people will be targeted at the same time."

You all need to stop this right now. ENOUGH. "Trans" people not being able to lie about their sex and go in spaces they don't belong is NOT "being targeted". How DARE you compare such dumb bullshit to women losing our goddamn human rights. You call yourself a radfem, but all I see is another trans activist with rocks for brains.

"it's going to really break my heart if radfems allow Trump to hurt trans people and strip them of their rights."

I know you'll just plug your ears and scream LALALALA, but radical feminists didn't goddamn vote for Trump. And even if we did, we can't fucking control what he does. Nobody goddamn can!

"you can keep vouching for cis female only spaces"

Do not call us "cis".

"please don't let trans people lose their rights. don't side with Trump on that issue. we can disagree, but women cannot be happy about Trump stealing rights from trans people."

What rights would they lose? The right to lie about their sex on official documents? The right to enter and colonize spaces they don't belong in? The right to take resources from marginalized groups? The right to continue to violently threaten anyone who questions or criticizes them? The right to censor our speech and thought? The right to get cosmetic surgeries and hormone injections they don't need? What about the right to keep telling lesbians to take dick?

I don't give a single FUCK if they lose those "rights".

"women understand oppression completely, and we know what it is like for the leader of our country to despise us."

Yes, we do, and here you are, asking that we feel empathy for "trans" people, who have shown nothing but contempt for women.

"don't side with Trump on that issue."

A broken clock being right twice a day does not mean I am fully aligned with the clock. I am so fucking tired of this stupid "if you're not with us, you're against us" bullshit. GROW THE FUCKING HELL UP.

"can we have a truce?"

No, actually, we fucking can't. I will not make nice with those who despise my sex and those with my sexuality. I will not pursue peace with those who want to strip of women and gays of our spaces, language, rights, abuse, rape, and kill us (as your beloved "trans" people have been doing almost every fucking day since at least the 1960s). Fuck Trump, and fuck "trans" people.

"you can critique them but please don't be complicit in their lives being taken."

Fun fact: Using threats of suicide (because we all know that's what you're implying) to manipulate others is a textbook abuser tactic. I'm not responsible for anyone's mental health. I'm not yielding to "trans" people to keep them from killing themselves (which they aren't - there's no epidemic of "trans" suicides).

"women, please fight for trans people."

"even if we don't agree, we are in the same boat here."

We are not. We are nowhere near in the same goddamn boat. Women are in a canoe that's sinking into the goddamn sea while "trans" people are on a luxury yacht telling us we deserve to drown and acting like not being served the freshest shrimp cocktail is akin to genocide.

"we can disagree and still support each other. please.

Actually, we can't, and your beloved "trans" people made it that way by censoring, firing, and threatening any woman who mildly disagreed with them.

"trans people, i love you. i support you. i will fight for you. "

Women, I love you. I support you. I will fight for you against everyone who oppresses us, whether they're in a MAGA hat or a shitty wig.

"i am a radfem, but i am also a trans ally, because those things can coexist, even if it seems very unlikely."

No, they cannot. And you are NOT a radfem.

You may be a teenager, but I don't care. The ignorance of youth is not an excuse anymore. I'm beyond sick of you entitled little shits coming in here and lecturing women (because it's only ever women) on being "nice" to those who hurt us. You are not a peacemaker. You are not the cool headed party here. You are not fighting for the oppressed.

You have no life experience. No empathy. No awareness. Nothing. You don't know anything about anyone. You have no context, no idea what the hell you're talking about, so do everyone a favor and keep your fucking mouth shut.

You might not give a single fucking shit about other girls and women, but I do. Stop making things even worse for us.

okay radfems, those of you who are trans exclusive.

i know we disagree. i don't agree with your views of trans people. i know that trans people are valid and not our enemies. i understand you feel differently, and i understand why. your fear of men is completely and totally valid, and i understand. i know at this point that i won't change your minds about trans people, im not going to try to. trans people are not women's' enemies, but i understand your fear.

but we are going to be living in a reality very soon where women and trans people will be targeted at the same time. Trump will come for women and he will come for trans people. and it's going to really break my heart if radfems allow Trump to hurt trans people and strip them of their rights. women understand oppression completely, and we know what it is like for the leader of our country to despise us. trans people know that too. we will both have to deal with that in two months. and i'm just asking, please radfems, you can keep vouching for cis female only spaces, you can keep believing trans women are men and trans men are women, i know that i can't change that, but please don't let trans people lose their rights. don't side with Trump on that issue. we can disagree, but women cannot be happy about Trump stealing rights from trans people. women should not be supporting that. we can disagree about trans people, but please please please. can we have a truce? for four years, can there be a truce? it can be a halfway truce. you can dislike trans people but still believe they should have rights. you can critique them but please don't be complicit in their lives being taken. please.

trans people, please fight for women, and women, please fight for trans people. even if we don't agree, we are in the same boat here. we can disagree and still support each other. please.

trans people, i love you. i support you. i will fight for you. i am a radfem, but i am also a trans ally, because those things can coexist, even if it seems very unlikely. let's fight for each other. please

[oh-no-its-bird]

Getting deep into the aus in my head rn. Ok so you know that genre of arranged marriage webtoons/novels that's like, "the crazy princess is forced to marry the brave knight by the king, who wants to punish the knight for some reason" and then the princess turns out to either not be crazy or to be amping up the crazy on purpose, probably in order to survive some dark shit happening in the palace?

Ok so like. That. Now make it obkk.

(I'm tempted to say mdtb but obkk just fit better, I think. But also like, shit make it mdtb too, I love this trope)

Now here's the thing; I think there's a super fun argument to be made on both sides for who gets what role.

Crazy prince Obito could totally play into his Tobi persona, which would just be cool symmetry. But also knight Obito could be so cool, just objectively. And it could be interesting to play with a crazy prince Kakashi who like, saw his whole family murdered in front of him and then played up the crazy act to avoid becoming next on the chopping block.

Im going to settle with a prince Obito, so now please buckle up for todays au:

"Crazy" prince Obito who isn't quite as crazy as he seems being forcefully married to war hero general Kakashi of the Hatake dukedom in order to humiliate the Hatake's,,

(this one is nearly 4k words, so we're putting a cut on it)

SO! Starting from the top!

The Hatake dukedom is basically the only power to rival our beloved evil king Madara's throne. Other than them, Madara is pretty much untouchable, so his paranoid ass tries to keep a pretty firm eye and thumb on them. Gotta make sure they remember to stay the hell in line, you know?

So Kakashi is ordered to go to war pretty young, possibly in an attempt to get the young heir killed and cut off the Hatake's at the knees. Only for some years later, Kakashi to pretty much singlehandedly win that war and return this super big war hero. Which is a big problem for Madara, because now the Hatake's have even more political capital. And again, his paranoid ass does not like the possibility of there being someone to rival him in power.

As it is, there are only 3 (living, conscious) Uchiha left.

Madara, who is king.

Obito, a bastard nephew of Madara, who is absolutely fucking insane and only ever let out a tight leash when his insanity amuses Madara. He's only lived this long because his stupidity amuses Madara sometimes, and because he's very clearly no threat to him

And Sasuke, Madara's.... technical spare, who is only allowed to live because of his resemblance to Izuna.

(And somewhere deep in the castle, there sleeps on one Uchiha Izuna, trapped in some sort of coma Madara can not wake him from)

All the other Uchiha were killed (we will return to this) including Itachi and Shisui

(Incidentally, among Kakashi's loyal companions he collected during his years at war, there are two dark haired boys who are so careful to hide their faces when in public. I'm sure there's no relation there.)

So! Kakashi returns from war and Madara is like 'shit, I need to stop this train before it gets too far off the tracks' and invites Kakashi to the palace to "reward" him for his service.

Only when Kakashi gets there, the "reward" he's given is that Madara has arranged a spouse for him— his famously insane bastard nephew.

Getting into the politics of this: Giving him Obito humiliates him in public + gives him a ticking time bomb for a wife + reminds him of his place + gets rid of Obito too, who Madara is probably sick of seeing at this point.

Plus if we like, lean into period typical homophobia or whatever, Madara giving him a husband instead of a wife has implications too. Madara says you will NOT procreate, the Hatake house will NOT have a heir, and if they do then they'll automatically be a bastard who will never have a mother.

Take this crazy guy as ur wife lmao get fucked have fun <3

He's ending the Hatake's and Obito's bloodline in one move, 2 birds with one stone!! He's so smug about this solution he's worked out.

Kakashi, obviously yk, is super offended and panicked and also doesn't even want to get married, especially not to the goddamn famously insane prince, but he cant say no to the king! So he's kind of just forced to bow his head and grit his teeth and say thanks as Madara is all smug and happy on his throne saying some shit about he can't wait for the wedding.

So yk, Kakashi brings Obito home and it's this whole fucking spectacle because Obito is freaking the hell out and acting like a total lunatic

The whole rug pool is that Obito isn't nearly as insane as he's acting. To be clear, Obito does have just a whole list of mental issues, and is genuinely incredibly unstable— he's just also playing it way, way up in order to protect himself from being looked at too hard by Madara.

And obviously, yk, he's suddenly thrown at Kakashi with pretty much no warning for either of them, and he doesn't know who the fuck Kakashi is, other than his reputation for being at war for years now. So he's gonna really crank up the crazy factor because it's the only way he knows how to keep himself safe— at least until he's gotten a better handle of Kakashi what the hell he's all about

Anyways just, Kakashi and his crazy wife Obito,,

Kakashi ofc eventually sniffs out that Obito isn't nearly as insane as he's acting, and Obito is able to act a little more genuine to what he's really like.

Meanwhile we also get lots of Sakumo content, who is around btw and acting Duke Hatake. Also Rin is around, probably as Kakashi's second in command. We also get team ro, who Kakashi collected while he was at war and act as his lill team and trusted confidants

I want to see Obito and Sakumo in particular interacting tbh.

The differences between Madara as Obito's hella abusive shitty uncle who would purposefully provoke and feed into his fits, and his new so much kinder father in law who takes even his best attempts of causing a scene and making a fool of himself with a slow blink and a calm demeanor,,,,,, ough,,

Obito experiences fatherly love for the first time in his life and promptly has several crisis's about it

Now! Rewinding a bit to focus back on Madara / Uchiha situations ->

Madara doesn't really have an official heir. Or he does, but it's Izuna. Who, if you remember, is in that coma.

Madara is deep in denial about the fact that his brother is NOT going to wake up. Get over it Madara, it's been 10 fucking years !!!

Like I mentioned before, Sasuke only got to survive because he looks so much like Izuna. Madara probably straight up calls him Izuna and makes him dress and act like his younger brother sometimes when he's in his worst mental states (it flip flops a lot)

Sasuke can't be around Madara when he drinks bc Madara mistakes him for Izuna and starts alternatively yelling at him for daring to leave him and crying messily all over him

Sasuke is technically heir, but not really. Madara will only ever refer to him as the spare— because obviously, Izuna is going to wake up some day. Obviously. Any day now.

Now obviously, Sasuke already has a big brother! Which Madara does not like. How is he supposed to project all his issues onto Sasuke as a younger brother if Sasuke already has an elder brother?

So like, Madara gets rid of Itachi because he doesn't want Sasuke to have a big brother figure in his life other than him, bc yk, Sasuke is his Izuna shaped stress toy to cope with the loss of his own brother.

Madara sends Itachi to the front lines of the war at like 13 to have him killed. But then Kakashi saves him (team Ro noises,,)

Itachi quietly disappears from the playing field and is written off w the countless unnamed dead, and Madara is satisfied. Meanwhile, a masked assassin joins Kakashi's inner circle,,

(In the castle, in the middle of his grief, an 8 year old Sasuke is told he can address Madara as elder brother)

"How did Izuna even fall into that coma?", I hear you asking. Well!

I am now sliding to u a doctor/mage/saint Tobirama who is somehow the reason Izuna is in his coma (maybe on purpose, maybe by accident)

But Madara can't kill him bc hes like. The best doctor he has. And he needs him to keep Izuna alive in his coma.

"Damn, well how did Tobirama get to be working for Madara?" I now hear you asking

Well! x2, We will now rewind even further, to Madara's childhood ->

Starting it off with: is it even a naruto au without a dash of "childhood friends gone wrong?"

Basically, when Madara was a kid, he got to be close friends with Hashirama. Only for Hashirama to be unwittingly used as a tool by his father, for Butsama to try and overthrow the king of the time, Tajima.

A ploy that nearly worked, Butsama managing to kill Tajima + all of Madara and Izuna's other siblings + most of the other Uchiha right in front of the boys.

At the last second, Madara, with the help of the family's advisor, Zetsu, managed to kill Tajima and divert his plans. But now most of the Uchiha were dead and they had a crisis on their hands.

Madara is put on the throne at like, 13 years old, with only Zetsu to really rely on because everyone else is fucking dead, defected, or suspicious as hell. (Which is why, even decades later, he remains so consistently paranoid of anyone who might have the power to rival the throne; ie, the Hatake)

Anyways. Boy king Madara with his spooky advisor Zetsu at his side.

Zetsu is that trope of a a super obviously creepy and evil royal advisors, you guys know the trope. He is hunched behind Madara's throne whispering into his ear

"Kill them sire,,, they disrespect you,,,"

He like helped raise Madara when he was a young so Madara is DEEP in his pockets. After all, after the Uchiha were nearly overthrown, he was the only adult figure Madara had to depend on.

(To be clear, Madara himself is a shitty person. Zetsu is his own brand of spooky evil guy, and yeah he's a terrible influence on Madara, but Madara has made his own shitty evil choices in this too.)

After everything settled down, Madara had to decide what the hell to do with the remaining Senju— including Hashirama and Tobirama, who were also now among the only survivors of their clan.

Hashirama never meant to betray Madara, but he still did, and for that Madara can bear to look at him or he'll begin to feel sick.

Madara ends up being unable to kill his old best friend (even as Zetsu urges him to do it), and instead just sends him off to some temple deep on the edge of the kingdom, under heavy guard, basically banished from everywhere else in the kingdom. Hashirama goes quietly.

Tobirama, however, he keeps. Forced to serve in the palace as a sort of doctor.

Put him in some sort of magic collar that means he can't disobey a member of Uchiha royalty or smthn fun and fucked up like that, it could be fun. Collar that man !!!!!

Its enchanted w an order like, "you must follow every order given to you by the king" and then later down the line (when Madara is inevitably overthrown) Madara tries to order Tobirama to do smthn, Tobirama just looks at him coldly and goes "you are king no more."

I think whether Tobirama put Izuna in a coma or not would be left intentionally vague. We never know. Not even I know.

Maybe it was an accident, and Madara can only assume the worst because of who his father was and his clear hatred of the Uchiha.

Or maybe it was on purpose, his intrusive thoughts finally winning out. He certainly doesn't seem to have much sympathy or regret for the fact Izuna's been asleep for a decade now

Now, pointing back at Zetsu and Madara

Zetsu is sort of just a generic shadowy advisor for Madara in this. He's running the kingdom behind Madara's shoulder, he just kinda gets to do whatever and thrives bc of it. Zetsu living his best life!!!

Everyone is suffering in some way EXCEPT for Zetsu, who is having a wonderful time

So like. Madara seeming convinced he'll never die. Bc Zetsu has been whispering in his ear ab ideas of eternal life and necromancy, telling him he can rule forever and use this newfound power to wake Izuna. (Which is also ofc why he has no real heir and doesn't seem too worried about it)

(Meanwhile in the bg Tobirama is being used for his research. He's… happy about this, actually. He's thriving, just a little bit. Madara lets him play with dead bodies. And yeah, it sucks he has to obey the bastards commands, he's given p much unlimited funds and just kinda makes cool taboo shit as he researches immortality. He still bitches ab it tho.

Maybe in the end, he'll drag Madara out from the dungeons by the scruff like hes a wet cat and says smthn vague ab how hes going to be calling the shots from now on, and they disappear into the night)

So anyways. Inhuman somehow vaguely immortal Zetsu— who's been running out on his immortality juice.

Maybe we can play w Kaguya and the Hatake clans involvement? Zetsu gets his power from siphoning off of Kaguya, but the Hatake's of these past few generations have been worshipping her too, so she no longer has eyes only for Zetsu— meaning he no longer gets as much power from her.

Which is also why he's pushing Madara to hit the Hatake's w the ban hammer, because he wants them out of the way so Kaguya will look his way again.

(Or at the very least, Tobirama can hurry up and inventory human immortality already so Zetsu can try out a new method)

If you wanna get extra fucky with it, we can go with a 'son of Kaguya' Kakashi au, and throw in even more fucked up moon goddess family drama. Kakashi has no idea he's even related to the moon goddess, but Zetsu is losing his fucking mind because he's no longer his mothers number one special little boy anymore

What even is an obkk au without heaps of family drama in all directions?

Ok so, rewinding back to where we were, with newly wed Obito and Kakashi ->

So, Kakashi has been at war for some years now and has a lot of shit to do and catch up on now that he's back. Including catching back up with his dad, who he hasn't been able to see for any longer than a week tops in years. Very emotional! Very fun! Madara is a bastard for keeping them apart

But specifically tho. Kakashi helping Itachi to reunite with Sasuke.

I mentioned before that Kakashi collected team ro while he was out at war, and each of them probably has some sort of mini quest to fulfil,,

Senju bastard Tenzo who maybe grew up in the same church Hashirama was banished to, but was eventually sent away by Hashirama who couldn't bear to see him live the same isolated life as him (and maybe feared that Tenzo would be killed if Madara heard there was a new mokuton user)

Itachi and Shisui, Itachi being sent away to die and Shisui being an Uchiha bastard who either Madara thought he managed to kill (but escaped the massacre of his own remaining family Madara would eventually pull) or who got sent away with itachi to die at war. And just them wanting to reunite with Sasuke, their only remaining family left, who they worry for every day that he's left alone with Madara.

Im thinking tho. Sasuke eventually somehow escaping on his own (before team ro can even try to sae him) and managing to get to the Hatake dukedom,,,, Kakashi and Obito end up basically adopting him, pass it on

Super emotional Sasuke and Itachi reunion my beloved,,, I want Sakumo to try and dad them both, it'd be fun. Sakumo is just dad-ing everyone in this au, he's so father shaped

Sasuke spending so many years alone w only Madara as his family and maybe a weirdly fucked up and distant uncle-ish energy Tobirama who he regularly sees Madara going out of his way to make his life miserable.

But also like, obviously: Sakura and Naruto. I bet those two helped him escape tbh

Uhh knights in training Naruto and Sakura who are so determined to protect their prince Sasuke (even as Sasuke tells them he doesnt need his protection)

What if Sakura is training under Tobirama in place of Tsunade? Could be fun, idk.

Where is Tsunade in this, is she dead? Was she ever born? Did Madara steal her from Hashirama to make her work in the castle? Could be fun,, on that note too, Orochimaru might be somewhere around here, working with Tobirama to unlock immortality for Zetsu/Madara (*cough* himself *cough*)

Anyways, knights Sakura and Naruto who enter the palace so starry eyed for their beloved king Madara and prince Sasuke,,, only to slowly realize this is NOT the fluffy sparkly fairytale they thought this was going to be.

Im thinking narusasusaku energy where Sakura and Naruto are being silly and competing for their beloved, closed off ice prince's attention, alternating between fighting each other for Sasuke to look at them and teaming up to get rid of potential rivals

Meanwhile Sasuke is looking on at these fucking idiots blatant attempt to throw themselves at him in that way that only kids can, alternating between being annoyed and exasperated and trying to hide how amused he is. They are one of the only bright spots in his life ,,,

Madara doesn't even really have a reason to fuck Sasuke over w them tbh, honestly he might even encourage it just bc they're knights in training and he wants his spare to be well protected (against everyone but him lmao)

Madara is shitty but Sasuke is in this really weird position where he's probably the safest from him. Beccause, you know, Izuna. There's a lot of emotional abuse there and incredibly unhealthy dependency from Madara's end, projecting Izuna onto Sasuke. But for the most part, Madara dotes on him. Because, again, Izuna. Though there's also probably a certain amount of genuine fondness Madara has grown for him

He only really gets violent if it looks like someone will try and take Sasuke away from him (particularly in a familial way, which is what got Itachi (almost) killed)

Naruto and Sakura are deemed safe by Madara because they too are under his control, and every prince does need a good knight.

He might even think their not so well hidden crushes would be good for him, because that way he can count on them to ruin any of Sasuke's future romantic prospects for him. And if Sasuke ends up getting with his knights, he will never have a reason to leave the castle, even once he's an adult. A win win for Madara!

Madara approaching Sakura and Naruto both, telling them he thinks theyre just soooo good at being knights and, obviously you know, as their king he will hope they give him lots of updates about Sasuke.

Both Sakura and Naruto are super starry eyed and all for it at first, but Sakura quickly realizes that Madara is asking them to spy on Sasuke for him.

Sasuke himself is not surprised and probable expects it. This is what Madara has done with every single other person that he's ever looked at longer than 3 seconds.

There is a reason Sasuke has no friends, and it's not just because he doesn't want any. That one time when he was 9 and he told his playmate that he missed his big brother and hoped he would come back soon, only for Madara to later drag him out of bed in the middle of the night, scream at him and threaten to send him to die on the front lines with his brother if he really wanted to be with him so bad— well, that kind of gave him trust issues. Understandably.

Thinking also that over the years, while Kakashi was at war, Madara was keeping Sakumo from going to see his son by claiming he needed him close to the palace. So, like, Sakumo interacting with Sasuke on and off over the years,,, just this occasional figure of stability Sasuke is never supposed to talk to for too long,, this man he knows Madara is scared of, who feels so warm to him.

And Sakumo, missing Kakashi so much, interacting with Sasuke thinking about how 'my son was this small, when your uncle sent him to die' and nearly crying about it later.

Anyways just sasusakunaru,,, prince sasuke and his two knights who enter the castle at like 12, starry eyed and fulled of hope— but slowly becoming disillusioned as they realize what kind of life Sasuke is really living.

Them going from swearing to protect their prince with all the strength and surety of a couple of hopeful kids with big dreams— to really, genuinely meaning it, and eventually helping him escape from Madara's hands.

And then ofc them fleeing to the Hatake dukedom, where Sakumo and Kakashi give him sanctuary and he gets to see Itachi again. Who, by the way, he thought was dead and had NO idea was here. Yayy!

Anyways!

Endgame of Kakashi and Obito overthrowing Madara and tossing him into the dungeons. Tobirama ends up dragging Madara out of the dungeons and they disappear into the night together, never to be seen again. (with the implications of a sudden very sharp shift in power between them something to think about off screen)

Sasuke becomes king bc neither Kakashi or Obito wants the throne, and rules with his trusty knights (and partners) Naruto and Sakura.

Obito is happy being a trophy wife for Kakashi, this is actually his ideal ending (after the horror and stress of adjusting to this new unknown life)

Sakumo meanwhile gets to be godfather of the first sasusakunaru kids and swears to protect the Uchiha family for as long as he can

The end, or something

[indycinders]

Pure smut cause my uterus is trying to kill me.

Maybe a bit of praise kinks in there? Jealousy? Idk it's Caleb lmao. Enjoy.

P.S. not canon to their actual story in my head, maybe it's a dream Caleb had, who knows uvu Also obviously pre-explosion era.

Edit: forgot to add the title aaaaa

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Above the Clouds"

“It was nice of your roommates to give us some time alone,” Cinders remarked as she walked over to Caleb and sat down between his legs, a towel on her head and wearing one of Caleb's old shirts over a pair of shorts.

They'd been coming back from a festival in the park when it started raining, both of them running to his dorm unable to stop themselves from getting soaked to the bone. Caleb urged Cinders to take a shower first so she wouldn't get sick, and while she was doing so, he negotiated with his roommates to leave. He was out fifty bucks, but that was nothing compared to the silence and solitude of a night in with her.

He wouldn't have to worry about any of them making suggestive comments towards her, or flirting with her. Nope, she was all his for the night.

“Yeah, they have a thing they're going to tonight,” he said, grabbing her by the hips and scooting her closer. He reached for the towel around her head and started drying her hair as she settled in and turned her attention to the small TV in his room. He had one of her favorite shows playing.

When he was done drying her hair, he picked up the brush and began pulling it through the unbelievably soft burgundy strands. He could smell the shampoo wafting up to his nose and he felt that familiar ache in his lower abdomen. The tips of his ears burned as he shifted slightly.

“A thing?” she echoed. “I didn't ruin your hangout plans with your friends, did I?”

Cinders tilted her head back enough to just barely see Caleb above her. He smiled at how adorable she was and shook his head quickly. “No, no. I'm not into what they do anyway,” he reassured her, nudging her head back into place.

“Really?” she hummed, her tone skeptical. “Gideon says differently.”

He felt his eye twitch. “Since when did you speak with Gideon?” Enough to refer to him so casually, too.

“Oh, it was a bit earlier when I was waiting for you,” she explained. “Do… do you know if he has a girlfriend?”

His hand gripped the brush handle tightly and he had to make an effort to keep his motions gentle and soft and not fueled by his irritation. “Uh, I don't know. Why? Do you like him?” he winced, noticing his tone sounding a bit demanding.

Cinders shrugged, shifting in her seat between his thighs, still watching the show on the TV. “Mm, I don't know. He asked for my number earlier. Guess I just want to make sure I'm not giving it to some player,” she laughed a little.

Caleb's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest. No, this wasn't right. She wasn't supposed to get interested in anyone. Before he could stop himself, he put the brush down and pulled her flush against his chest, his arms wrapping around her waist.

“Oof!” Cinders let out a surprised huff of air, wiggling in his arms but it was clear Caleb wasn't going to let go. “Caleb…?”

“You can't-” he choked out, clearing his throat. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in and trying to compose himself. “You're not allowed to date my friends.”

“Caleb-” she squirmed again but he only tightened his hold.

“I'm serious, pipsqueak. No. You've gone this long without seeing anyone, why now?” his voice was strained and off-sounding.

“I-I don't know, I was just wondering,” she mumbled, feeling her face heat up. The way he was holding her like he was afraid to let go felt different. “I won't date any of your friends, Cal, okay?”

“No one,” he mumbled, nuzzling into her neck. His hands slipped under his shirt that she wore, feeling her soft stomach. He felt her shiver but she stilled under his touch. His lips curled into a smirk against her neck. “No one should be able to hold you like this. Touch you like this.”

One of his hands caressed upward, his calloused fingertips brushing against the soft underside of her breasts. He could feel the goosebumps rising to the surface of her skin. His other hand slid underneath the loose shorts she wore, his fingers brushing against the coarse yet soft trimmed hair on her mound.

“C-Caleb, what-?” Cinders sucked in a breath as his long fingers stroked the outside of her lips, sending tingles straight to her core and igniting that delicious burning sensation.

“It should be me, Kit,” he murmured, his nose nuzzling aside her hair to get at her neck. “The one touching you like this. Showing you how to feel good. The only one you think of like this…”

His mouth pressed hot kisses against her neck. He felt Cinders lean back against him, tilting her head to the side and letting him continue. He took it as her consent, his left hand squeezing and teasing her breasts and nipples, eliciting sweet little whimpers and gasps from her plush lips.

It wasn't until the index finger of his right hand slipped between her moistened folds, gently stroking along her slit until he circled his finger around that precious little nerve bundle, that she let out anything resembling a moan.

And Jesus Christ it went straight to his cock, throbbing and aching against the fabric of his pajama pants. He groaned and sank his teeth into the crook of her neck, sucking a mark into her pale skin. “My sweet little pipsqueak,” he nibbled on her earlobe. “Keep making those noises for me, okay? I'm going to help you feel good, honey.”

Cinders bit her lip and nodded, relaxing back into him some more. His hand splayed across her chest, holding her to his own, while his other hand continued to swirl around her clit and tease her entrance. When he started inserting his finger inside of her, her knees bent and she tried to close her legs at the intrusion.

Caleb used his Evol to force them apart again, spreading her wide. He even pulled her shorts off the rest of the way. “Caleb,” Cinders whined, turning her head to glare at him.

“Tell me no,” he said, his eyes half-lidded as he continued to slowly finger her. “Say the word and I'll stop, Kitty.”

Her eyes studied him for a moment, her face flushing as her body responded to his touch. “I want it,” she practically whined instead, panting a little.

His cock twitched almost violently against her ass when he heard her say that. “Everything or just this?” he nibbled along her jaw, working his finger in and out of her slowly, getting her used to the feeling.

She let out another moan when he inserted a second finger, unable to move her legs due to his Evol, so her hands moved up behind her, grabbing his shoulders. “E-everything,” her voice was breathy and shaking. “I want everything.”

Caleb could feel her nails digging into his skin, groaning softly. He bit her again, sucking another harsh mark into her skin. She was his, and he'd leave a reminder for her and everyone else. “Good girl,” he murmured.

The pace of his fingers pumping in and out of her steadily increased, and she squirmed against him, the melody of her pleasure lifting into the air around them. The TV show was forgotten. Only they existed in this room, this moment.

“Ahh, fuck,” Caleb groaned again, unable to take the throbbing ache any longer. “Kit, do you think you're ready for me?”

“Mhm,” she panted.

He didn't need any more confirmation before he lifted her up, freed himself from his pants, and guided himself to her entrance. His thick head was already seeping with precum, eager to delve deep inside of her.

“Tell me to stop if it hurts,” he grunted through clenched teeth, holding himself back from just ramming up into her.

“Okay.”

A guttural moan bubbled up from his chest as he began lowering her slowly onto his cock, her folds stretching and squeezing around him. When he hit resistance, he took his time, working himself in and out of her. He was gentle, he was sweet, kissing her and whispering sweet praises.

Caleb knew it was her first time. It was his, too. And he wanted her to feel good, and loved, and everything that he felt about her. “Good girl, doing so well for me, aren't you, Kit?” he crooned softly, nuzzling his face against hers.

“You coulda told me you were fuckin’ huge,” she huffed, pouting. Her hands were on his thighs, helping to hold herself up.

He chuckled and kissed her cheek. “Where's the fun in that?” he teased. “You're taking me well, anyway.”

“You're so crude,” she mumbled.

“And who's the one that said she wanted everything?” he retorted playfully.

He worked past the barrier, earning a slight whimper of pain from her. “Shh, babygirl, I've got you,” he kissed her cheek, jaw, down her neck, whispering praises in between.

“I'm okay,” she whimpered softly, her hips shifting, wanting to keep going. This staying still business was only driving her insane.

“Ready? Just relax and let me do it,” he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Let me know if you want to change anything.”

Cinders nodded. With his hands on her hips, he began to set a steady rhythm between them, guiding her and rocking his own hips up into her. His own sounds of pleasure mixed with hers. Soon, he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her to him while his other hand slipped down.

He almost came just from feeling his own cock inside of her with his fingers. He slowed down a bit, wanting to savor the moment, and found her little nub of pleasure again. He rubbed at her clit and continued rutting up into her.

“Caleb- haaa- please, I need more,” Cinders begged. “Faster.”

He obeyed her demand, thrusting into her quicker, sinking his cock deep within her and moaning at the way she squeezed around him so fucking deliciously. “God, you feel so good, Kitty,” he panted. “Just like I imagined. Better even.”

The squelching noises from their mixed juices, along with their cries of passion, could only be described as perverted. “Cal- please- I need-” Cinders whimpered and panted, unable to complete a coherent sentence.

But he knew what she meant. Caleb's fingers on her clit applied more pressure, rubbing circles and driving her closer to that sweet peak. He shifted their position, lifting her with him as he bent her over the coffee table, fucking into her with more purpose.

“I know- what you need, babygirl,” he grunted with his efforts. He shifted his angle and suddenly she cried out the moment he hit that sweet spot inside of her.

She clenched around him so tightly, there was no hope for him. He let out another moan, deep from within his chest, his hips jerking and stuttering as his hands moved to clench her hips, pulling her back against him. “Ah, fuck, Cinders-!” he gasped her name.

She was boneless and feeling like jelly on the table as he pumped his hips forward, fucking his warm cum deeper inside of her, hitting her sweet spot and overstimulating them both. With a soft groan, he finally pulled himself free and collapsed over her, resting his weight on her back.

“Kitty,” he murmured after a few seconds of catching his breath. He lifted his hand and brushed her hair to the side to look at her face. “Are you okay?”

“Mmm,” she hummed, her eyes opening part way to look at him. She smiled a little. “I'm good, bunny.”

Jesus, that silly nickname of hers that he absolutely loved went right to his dick and he could already feel himself getting hard again. But he didn't want to push her too much tonight. “C’mon,” he got to his feet, fixing himself before lifted her into his arms. Caleb planted a sweet kiss on her forehead. “We need another shower.”

[moorishflower]

Mexican Pozole

Pozole! Beautiful, ruby red, glistening with fat, pozole! There's a reason she's beloved in many parts of Mexico, because honestly, what can't she do? She's infinitely customizable, allowing you to stick with tradition or try something new as you please.

At the heart of pozole is the chile sauce you use to flavor the soup -- the most traditional peppers are guajillo, pasilla and ancho, but if you want more heat you can add some chile de arbol or pequin to the mix, and if you want less heat you can sub the guajillo for cascabel. Each of these peppers has a unique flavor beneath the heat and will subtly change the taste of your pozole!

And then, if the heart of the pozole is the chiles, then the body of it is the hominy. If you've never had hominy before, it's white corn that's been dried, then soaked and cooked in a diluted lime or lye solution. That makes it sound a lot more hardcore than it actually tastes: hominy is a mild little corn nugget that, in soups, kind of takes on the texture of very firm tofu. It's soft, but you can definitely tell you're sinking your teeth into it, and when eaten on its own it's still faintly corn-y, but in pozole is incredibly subtle compared to the peppery broth. There's no taste of lye or line, however, if you're texture-sensitive you might want to buy a can and try a few first before you go through the labor of making pozole.

Because pozole is HARD WORK. I made the broth from scratch with pork shoulder and pork neckbones, so I definitely could have taken some steps out there, but I wanted to do it right. And the result was so good. You can customize pozole with all sorts of fresh garnishes -- I used cheese, tortilla strips, lettuce, lime juice, chopped white onion and cilantro. You can add chopped radishes to it, or green onion, red onion, red cabbage, pepitas...and it would also probably taste really good with some beans!

I used this recipe from Mexico in my Kitchen. There are a lot of pozole recipes out there, but most of them follow the same steps.

Changes I made:

I wasn't able to get guajillo peppers because my local corner market was out of them, so I used cascabels, ancho, and a chipotle tossed in for kick.

I used pork neck bones in the broth as well as cubed pork shoulder; you'll want to add bones any time you make broth to really bring out richness. You could also use pork ribs or bone-in pork hock, OR you can make chicken pozole with the same principle! Theoretically there's nothing stopping you from using tempeh or tofu in place of meat and making this vegan, however you'll find that vegetable broth doesn't reach that full level of richness and silkiness. It'd still probably be good, though!

For those who would like to preview the soups I'm planning to try, you can follow along on my World Soup Map! Please note: the free version of this map only allows for 100 items at a time, so there are gonna be a bunch of missing spots. World Soup Map 2 is being worked on!

[breelandwalker]

Thank you for elaborating! I appreciate the clarification. (And I appreciate you taking a somewhat more civil tone with me than with your comments section. Frustration I can understand, but it does behoove us to be patient with each other in order to encourage meaningful discourse.)

I do think this is a discussion worth having, partly because you bring up some valid points with regard to making distinctions between witchcraft practices from New Age pseudoscience and junk theories, and partly because this is an excellent object lesson on the need to move past our own opinions and egos when dealing with the broader witchcraft community, particularly because it's not a monolith. (What community is, right?)

I agree that using the term "energy" in reference to one's life force or the power behind magical workings or the shared vibrations of a group in ritual or the broader music of the cosmos may be an oversimplification. But in terms of accessibility, it's a nice, simple word and a concept that just about everyone understands, regardless of the context. This can be especially useful when you're having a conversation with practitioners from various paths and traditions who have slightly different ways of doing things.

True, it gets bounced around in New Age speak quite frequently, but to say that reduces or nullifies its' value in witchcraft spaces sounds rather like giving up on a perfectly good word. After all, there are plenty of terms that exist in witchcraft that are also (obnoxiously) overused by New Agers. How many "clearing" or "cleansing" videos have we all rolled our eyes at on the socials? And yet, clearing and cleansing are still vital concepts in witchcraft, though they generally don't refer to dodgy medicinal practices. All this to say, the co-opting of a word by New Agers (or worse) only diminishes its' value in witchcraft spaces if we let it.

As for terms like "witchy" and "baby witch," there's a certain amount of seriousness involved with witchcraft, it's true. You do have to take the craft seriously if you want to make progress and you do have to grow as a person in order to do so successfully. But there's also a point when growth requires us to stop taking everything so deadly serious, including ourselves. There are lessons to be learned from play and silliness and shedding the trappings of ego and self-consciousness.

"Witchy" has entered the common lexicon in a playful way that allows witchcraft and witchcraft-adjacent things to be more accessible to the non-witching public. Accessibility leads to acceptance and we could use all the help on that front that we can get. Is it a slightly unserious word? Sure. But is there really anything wrong with being unserious? And does that really matter when the people who are attracted to it might go on to more serious investigation?

The same with "baby witch" - perhaps it is limiting or infantilizing, but it's accessible as an entry point for some people, and with time and guidance, they will outgrow it. (From a personal standpoint, I'm seeing it used less often than it was even a few years ago, mostly in spaces where discussion groups and non-judgmental communication are strong, though a steady replacement has yet to be found.)

Also, in terms of public image and respect, I highly doubt that the existence of terms like "witchy" and "baby witch" will make much difference in the minds of people and parties who would never respect our community or take it seriously anyway. If hundreds of books published by respected scholars and and religious recognition by the state couldn't make them take witches seriously, nothing will.

And on that note, let's move on to Wicca.

Gerald Gardner was not solely responsible for the creation of Wicca. He died before its' official inception and others who had been in his circle took up the movement. One might mention such notables as Doreen Valiente, who we have to thank for MUCH of what constituted the roots of Wicca in its' first officially incorporated iteration. Furthermore, the religion hasn't even been around for a full century and yet it has already evolved enough to have its' first schism and has changed with the times more readily than some other religions I could name.

To say that no one should practice Wicca because people involved in its' creation and evolution have been problematic is like saying that no one should be a Christian because of the Crusades. I'm not sure how the broader public is expected to treat the witchcraft community with seriousness and respect when some of us can't even seem muster the maturity to respect other witches when it comes to differences of religion or relative levels of experience or commitment.

While I can respect and agree with your personal preference to not use certain terms or follow certain paths, I might suggest having more conversations with witches whose traditions differ from yours. You'd be surprised how much we can learn from each other when the need to be Right or Superior is left at the door in favor of open communication and understanding. And I speak as someone who has BEEN THERE. There are enough forces in the world seeking to divide us without our own judgmental tendencies or poor attitudes furthering the problem.

Anyway, thank you again for taking the time to respond (and to read this wall of text my brain spat out in response, I appreciate your forbearance). Best of luck on the path!

Witchcraft vocabulary I’m surprised is still used in 2025:

- Witchy

- Magick

- Energy

- Karma

- The Goddess™️

- G slur

- Baby witch

[temporary-joyride]

Thoughts I am Thinking about after Bridon finale

In love with the frame of unimpressed LG and distressed CXS after the latter thinks his friend signed him up for sex work

Episode name fits. A perplexing one indeed.

"Why is it every time you look at me you have this murderous intent in your eyes?" is such a killer line I love it

The whiplash I got from Vein speaking perfectly normal Chinese only to bust out "what a pity!' in the most British accent ever

No way it means literally anything but I just found it interesting how Vein and LX say the same phrase in this ep. Different circumstances, same conclusion. What a pity.

"They say she can see right through someone in just 5 minutes" really great psychologist? Ranpo-level detective? Got some sort of other supernatural shenanigans running amuck? Only time will tell

THINKING SO HARD ABOUT "I know I can't stop you. But I can make you stay a little longer" SHAKING LINK CLICK BY ITS SHOULDERS- WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT? WHAT EXACTLY DOES HE MEAN BY THAT???

The FUCK do you know, LG? It's ok you can tell me

So much to talk about but I'm 100% caught up on this. "But I can make you stay a little longer" I'm gonna leave the Xia Fei and CXS mom stuff to you guys, I'll take care of this one and think about it every waking second for the next two weeks dw

Allowing CXS an extra few moments to connect with his mom? Mmmmm sure. It's not like CXS promised to drop it all and not get anyone else involved, not like LG would have any way of knowing mother and son were talking unless son broke that promise

Genuinely not even joking I thought LG was trying to delay Vein by a few moments to get him hit by a bus or something

What exactly happened is even crazier. What was that, man. What was that. My guy's doing voodoo over here when did he learn that.

"I don't want to change the past. I just want to lead us all to a new future.." not entirely sure those statements are all that different but go off

LG screwed as hell Xia Fei was so serious about finding his boss's killer.

Or... non-killer? How long do you think until he learns Vein is still alive?? Imagine Xia Fei killing CXS in their photo studio in Vein's stead. Picture it. I'm having a vision here.

Pretty fun season but maybe a little awkward? Perhaps just because of the fandom on tumblr but I feel like I was so freaking immersed s1&2 but Bridon felt so silly at times I couldn't take it seriously

hrnngh one timeline, he says. over and over. what does it all mean. how does fate play out. if we're looping only one timeline multiple times then why does it feel like it's slipping through my fingers. the clock is melting right here in my palm. ripples in the stream at my feet. im not sure where the present even is anymore-

time's up!