#and it's not meant to deny anybody anything

[bomberqueen17]

civic duty

went to vote today. local elections, mostly uncontested.

it was so crowded, i did not expect that.

the man directly in front of me got mad when the people dispensing the ballots asked his name and then asked him to verify his address and date of birth. "That's personal information!" he exclaimed. "You have no right to ask me for that!"

"We have to verify your identity," the election worker said, stunned. "That's how this works."

"You're denying me my right to vote!" the man shouted.

"We-- have to figure out which voter you are," the election worker said. "I don't need to see ID or anything, i just need you to confirm for me which address you're at, and then which person by that name that resides at that address, so I can see if that matches our rolls, so I can make sure I'm dispensing a ballot to the right person."

"I was trained as an election worker!" the man shouted. "I know you have no right to demand personal information from me!"

"Well i can't give you a ballot if I can't verify which voter you are," the election worker said.

"I'm calling the cops!" the man shouted.

"By all means," the election worker said, "but please step outside to do so. I recommend you call the downtown cops, not just the emergency line, as they'll be more knowledgeable."

So the man went outside. I gave the workers my name, my address so they could find me, and confirmed my date of birth, since it seemed perfectly reasonable to me that often more than one person with the same name might reside at a particular address, and they gave me my ballot and I went and voted. When I went outside the man was still on the phone, yelling. "They have no right to demand personal information of me!"

That information is public record, my dude. And it's how they registered you to vote in the first place. And it's how you're organized in the voter rolls.

[ervotica]

the ones we love (will destroy us)

pairing; aegon ii targaryen x fem!targaryen!reader

tags; twincest (lol i'm sorry yk what the targaryens are like), aegon is so sad and babygirl and an idiot, hurt/comfort

note; heavily reworked repost of an old fic that i adored writing but needed a lot of editing! (i still lowkey hate it tho)

“Why is Aegon staring at you?” Aemond asks, a cruel smirk cracking his perpetually stoic facade; the's mocking in the way his gaze falls between you and Aegon, not entirely genuine as he takes amusement in his older brother’s miserable pining. Aegon watches your discussion with Aemond, sour faced from across the dining table. You’ve taken it upon yourself to sit as far away from him as you can manage; and where you’re usually attached at the hip - though he knows you’re arguing - he can’t deny the ache in his chest from your lack of acknowledgement. You're cold, unflinching as you stare right through him as though he's irrelevant, as though he's worth nothing to you.

“Because he’s a twat,” you answer bluntly. Aemond barks out a short laugh, coarse and harsh, that penetrates the quiet chatter of the room. Heads start to turn towards your avid conversing with your younger brother.

“What are you two bickering about now?”

“If he thinks it’s funny to to speak ill of me to everyone in the seven fucking kingdoms, I don't want anything to do with him.” Your lips purse as you cross your arms; Alicent eyes you, watching the tick of your jaw and flare of your nostrils - you’re upset, even if you’re excellent at masking it. 

Aemond watches on amusedly as your twin grows increasingly agitated the more you pointedly avoid his glances. Your mother frowns.

“Y/n, don’t you feel you’re perhaps being a little hard on Aegon?” 

“No.”

“He's your twin brother!” she sighs, ever frustrated by your stubbornness and your twin’s lack of consideration for anybody’s feelings, even yours at times.

“He’s still a twat.”

Aegon huffs and rolls his eyes. 

You continue to only speak about him indirectly. When you turn to Jace, he grins.

“Jace,” you start, clasping your hands where they lay on the dining table in front of you, “If someone said that you were ‘an ugly whore with no friends’ - as he so eloquently put it - would you be upset?”

“He said that?” Jace's jaw falls slack. “Wait, no. He honestly said that about you?”

The table clatters, cutlery bouncing, and Aegon stands abruptly, face screwed up in that way it does when he’s about to cry.

“It wasn’t like that!”

“How else could you possibly have meant it?” You’re incredulous, covering your misery with spiteful words. You want to make him hurt, make him feel your pain, but run to him for comfort all at once.

“Not-”

“Gods, just be quiet,” you mutter. Your face is hot as you turn away and you feel your eyes prickling with the threat of an onslaught of tears. Aegon cringes, drawn tight and tense as though you share one body, as though he can feel the pain he’s putting you through. Your upset has always caused him real physical distress, from when you were tiny children and still to this day. Your voice lowers to a whisper. “You’re so mean.”

“Y/n-“

You’ve never seen him quite this distressed; his cheeks flush pink and ruddy and his eyes start to water and gloss over, not dissimilar to your own expression - though you’re much better at concealing your emotions. His nostrils flare the way they only do when he cries: the way they did when he sobbed in your arms for hours after your mother rejected his pleas for affection once again, the way he cried when you were ten years old and your father interrupted him every time he tried to speak. Your bottom lip trembles. 

“Please,” he croaks. Your brows knit and crease your forehead as your chest tightens; you bite the inside of your cheek with such force that you draw blood. 

You stand and the solid wooden dining chair thumps against the floor. Aegon mirrors your movements, rushing towards the exit in your wake.

Once you’ve left the presence of your family, the tears come hard and fast and unrelenting. They’re hot against your cheeks, damp as your hands shake to scrub them away, leaving only a tender sting and blooming heat in your touch’s wake.

“Please talk to me.” The door creaks shut and then Aegon’s voice cuts through the sounds of your sniffles; you spin on your heel and he surges towards you in a bout of energy, clasping one of your hands in both of his larger ones. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that about you, it was mean. And you should be angry with me. I miss you and I love you and I'll never, ever speak a cruel word against you again.”

“Did you mean it?” you ask; he lurches to latch himself to your body, anxious as though you’ll push him away at any given moment. His arms are tight and unmoving around your waist.

“No.” He shakes his head vehemently, “I don't know why I said it. I just wanted the others to respect me but shouldn’t have said such awful things. The only person I need is you.”

“What?”

“I don’t care about any of that now. None of it matters to me if you’re not by my side.” 

His body shudders when your arms close and tighten around his body and a sob looses from his throat. Your voice is thick as you murmur in his ear. 

“You hurt my feelings.” 

His head falls to the dip of your shoulder and he clings to you with a strength that you’re not unfamiliar with; it cracks your heart all the same.

“Please forgive me, sweetling. Please.” The velvet of your dress darkens in splotches where his tears fall. “I love you.”

You know he really is remorseful; the guilt eats at him until he can’t feel anything else, not until you’ve reconciled. He's always been the same, ever since you were six and he hit you in the face; you didn’t speak to him for four days and he cried with such vigour that he made himself sick.

“I love you,” you can’t help but whisper back. “But if you ever do something like that again, I won’t be so forgiving.”

He laughs wetly, an odd sound that gets caught in his chest as he presses further into your embrace. 

“Can I have a kiss?”

You hook a finger under his chin and tilt his damp face towards your own. His lips fill with air and push out into a pout. 

His muscles go soft and relax the second your lips mesh with his; your fingers tangle in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He angles his head and deepens the kiss, licks into your mouth and murmurs something imperceptible. When you pull yourself away, he chases you, desperate to be close. 

“Love you,” he mumbles, plying you with damp, open mouthed kisses across your cheeks and neck. They leave glistening half moons in his wake. “I‘m so sorry.”

“I know,” you say, tucking your head in the hollow of his throat. “I forgive you, alright?”

A laboured breath forces its way out of his lungs when your arm wraps around his neck for a hug.

“I didn't like you sitting next to Aemond,” he sighs. You shush him, rubbing thumbs over his eyebrows and down his cheeks in unbridled affection. “I want you to sit next to me.”

“I always sit next to you,” you murmur. “I was upset, remember?”

“I know,” he whines. “but you’re mine.”

“Don’t be a baby,” you giggle. “I spend all of my time with you.”

He squeezes you tight then and buries his face in your hair. You grunt with the force of his weight.

“I missed you.”

[petriquors]

POV: your best friend is in love with you

a/n: post-timeskip, MSBY4, gn!reader

🤍 MIYA ATSUMU 🤍

“Hell no.”

“What do you mean, ‘hell no’?” you whine. “Come on, Atsumu; I haven’t been on a date in months—”

“Because men are animals—”

“You’re an animal!”

Touché, Atsumu thinks, while he stares at your bedroom ceiling. He’s supposed to be helping you pick out an outfit for this first date you have planned for tonight, and, genuinely, he doesn’t like anything you’re picking out. Every outfit looks perfect on you, so much that his heart leaps into his throat every time you emerge from your closet, and that’s exactly why they’re not good enough.

Because you won’t be wearing them on dates with him. Like an animal, you said, he’s territorial; and no one deserves to be going on dates with his best friend when it’s so obvious that you’re meant to be with him.

🤍 BOKUTO KORATO 🤍

Panic sets in as soon as Kotaro realizes what he just did. There were lips. And skin. His lips. Your skin.

All you were doing was giving him a hug goodbye. You hug him all the time, even though he’s started holding you a little tighter; you’ve started to joke that he’s going to crush you with his chest. It’s adorable.

He’s been playing with fire lately, between the tighter hugs, the lingering looks, the fleeting touches to your hands and the small of your back. But now, he thinks that he’s about to get burned.

He kissed your forehead. 

It was just for a second, a quick brush of his lips against your skin while you were in his arms. Now that the hug is over, you’re standing in front of him, smiling.

You pat his arms, smile a little wider, and finally tear yourself away. “See you later, Ko!”

He breathes a heavy sigh while he watches you leave. You didn’t notice. Deep down, Kotaro wishes that you did.

🤍 HINATA SHOYO 🤍

“Hey, sunshine!”

When he hears Hinata shout a cliche pet name at the top of his lungs, Meian picks his head up to watch what’s about to happen, betting that Hinata’s going to get a Sakusa-shaped elbow to the face. Where he expects to see his glowering junior, however, he sees you.

You giggle something in response, and the MSBY captain watches Hinata’s face light up from over your shoulder. You fling your arms around him. He pulls you into his chest. It makes Meian’s heart ache as if someone’s squeezing his hand too hard.

“Sunshine, huh?” he teases Hinata once you’re out of sight. “Since when are you dating anybody?”

Hinata gives him a blank stare. “We’re not dating. That’s my best friend.”

Meian can’t help the way he rolls his eyes, or the dry, disbelieving chuckle that falls from his lips. “Yeah, sure they are.”

🤍 SAKUSA KIYOOMI 🤍

The weight of a month-long training camp falls on your shoulder when Kiyoomi’s head rolls to the side. “Missed you,” he mumbles, eyes closed.

He’s next to you on your sofa, after he dragged himself to your apartment first thing when he got back—before even going to his own place.

He had shampoo and a spare change of clothes already packed, anyway. And when Kiyoomi, exhausted from the frustration of a new routine, shows up at your door, who are you to deny him a warm shower and a shoulder to rest his head on? It’s what best friends are for, you told yourself. 

Little do you know, that’s what he told himself, too, but he was trying to convince himself that’s all this is, and absolutely nothing more.

“‘M glad you’re home,” you murmur, patting his wet curls.

There’s a tiny, upward twitch to his lip. Best friends, he reminds himself. That’s definitely all this is.

[ramblingautisticman]

Everyone always thinks Logan would repress his feelings for Wade, that he would deny them to himself and anybody that implied he liked Wade as anything more than a friend, but honestly? I think that would be Wade.

Logan has never really been one to hide his emotions. He doesn't hide his attraction or affection for people. Jean is a great example. Logan knows that she and Scott are together, but he doesn't hide that he loves her. He makes it known.

Why wouldn't he with Wade? He doesn't have any competition, and finally he has a place to call home, so why would he hide his feelings? Wade flirts with him and makes jokes about being it's wife, so why would he feel the need to hide it?

Wade though? Wade is insecure, anxious and let's be real- a complete mess. He doubts peoples feelings towards him, friends or otherwise, and he pushes people away when they get too close. When he starts to realise that he loves them.

Logan has to try and break that barrier. He assumes Wade is worried about being hurt again by someone he loves, when in reality, Wade is worried about hurting Logan.

Wade knows Logan wouldn't hurt him- not unless they were fighting together in the way they both loved. He knows Logan isn't going to leave and that he loves him. Wade hates that he knows that, because Wade doesn't trust himself enough to not ruin that. To not ruin Logan.

Wade has been treated so poorly in the past- basically being blamed for everything bad that's happened to or around him- and he's begun to believe the things he's been told, the things people say about him.

Vanessa had broken up with him because he didn't prove himself worthy. He wasn't enough- so how is he meant to be enough for Logan?

Logan is confident in his feelings, Wade isn't and he never has been.

[howyouloveyourdragon]

Hi there, I absolutely adore you and love your writing and I'm excited that you're writing for jace now.

If it's okay, could I please request the prompts sleepy - number 44.

Have an amazing morning, afternoon, evening 💖💖

hi there! thank you so much, you have no idea how sweet you are for sending such a polite ask, and for your prompt “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” by thelonelyempath!

i definitely put you up high on my priority list for being so kind lol your message made my day

i also just really enjoyed writing this, it got me back into my groove.

have an amazing morning, afternoon, evening yourself and here you go, please let me know if you enjoy it! <3

No Rest For The Dragons

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon x reader Setting: During The Dance of The Dragons Summary: All is quiet but no sense of peace can be caught between your fingertips, not even at night and so it is difficult to find sleep. Not until you win the war and crown your prince victorious...Your betrothed, Jacaerys, seems to have other priorities. Warnings: Brief talk of war dividers by: saradika wordcount: 1,412 

A yawn tumbled past your lips with ease and a quiet whine quickly followed. Jacaerys Velaryon had never found anything more sweet in his entire existence but he wouldn’t tell you that…not yet at least. His eyes flickered over your sleepy face, the squished cheeks and rumbled hair. It made his heart throb, a desperation took hold to tighten his chest and squeeze. Slowly, he tucked his lower lip between his teeth and bit down. He could barely contain himself from cupping your jaw and pressing a kiss to those lips. His sleeping beauty…his beautiful briar…he would need to bring you a rose soon just for the sake of it because he never did think there was a world in which you were not his Aurora. Some universe in which he didn’t long for you. The backs of his fingers carefully caressed your face. The skin was so soft–practically begging for him to lay upon his gentle pecks of devotion–and yet he restrained himself. You may be his betrothed but you are not yet his wife. He must recall that, if he is to keep your honour…A grunt peeked through his teeth at the thought. The thought that anybody could see you as anything less than a guide of honour and duty as you fought at his side, on his very dragon with a bow and arrow within your hands. A quiver danced along the prince’s bones. He may think you to be beautiful in any state but he would gladly gift upon you anything you so much as dreamed or desired if you were to allow that to be his final sight. His last. The sight of you upon Vermax and casting down the enemy. 

A smile flittered his lips as you stirred and stretched in his lap. “No, no go back to sleep.” He cooed, brushing back your hair and placing a wet flannel at your forehead. You were in your gentlest state this eve. You fended off his hand like a weak squirrel to reluctant avail. “Rest my love. You must rest.” The whine escapes the seam of your mouth before you can escape it. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” You practically taunt with your eyelids finally parting to peer up at him. As much as he wants to scoff and argue, he cannot help but smile down at the soft albeit exhausted face. Amusement laces his face but he lets his brow pinch. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to allow that.” You send a pointed look his way. “You would deny your wife?” “You would deny your prince?” He counters with playfulness and yet something excites him about the way ‘wife’ leaves your lips. How smoothly it goes…It only reminds him of how long he has deprived himself of kissing them. Of feeling the sweet flutter of lightning that would passes over your skin. His hand would dance throughout your hair, he was sure of it, sure that one the day of your wedding, he would summon all the strength he had been willing himself to retain and finally let go. He would deny himself for centuries if it meant you would let him bind himself to you for eternity–if you would let him vow until his throat dried up. If they were not to be his final words, he would repeat them until they were destined. He would be yours, he was sure of it. He does not say this of course as you sigh with a pointed stare. 

It was the determination in your gaze that he adored above all. That very crinkle in your brow that arose whenever anybody were to question you. His throat bobs as he recalls how his hand would slide along to the small of your back–support from the true prince and heir of the iron throne–delighting as you took the lead. Happy to await your debates cease as you charged your mouth at any who claimed your position unfit. None of these men knew the battlefield as you did. None of these men had studied the art so intensively for this very moment. None of these men would protect him like you did, he was sure of it. And certainly none of them had helped teach him the ways of battle so that he could protect his own hide should something go askew. Now as he watches you, he lets his eyes wander along the small scars upon both your hands at such teachings. Your childhood together had been an entertaining ordeal; scars of book pages, scars of dragon mishaps, scars of blades…He wouldn’t trade those tiny indents for the world. He would not even trade for the oncoming victory of his mother’s crown. He would not. 

Instead, Jacaerys’ breath hitches but he does not complain at your defiance. He welcomes it. “My darling, you must rest if you are so determined to fight beside me.” His words are teasing but the plummet of hardness cannot be unheard. He had always been serious. “I cannot allow myself the sight of injury should you–” His throat bobs but you hardly change your mind. “It could cause injury to you should I not properly plan our route.” The retort jumps from your tongue and he can tell this has been boiling for some time now, that the bubbles were ever-present. You’ve been locking this inside your mind for too long now. Far too long. His curled fingers glide down your cheek before stopping at your chin. He lifts it as delicately as he would a broken leaf and gazes sweetly into your eyes. “You can do this well rested. We have time.” “But what if–” “We have time.” He reassures you with the confidence of his ancestor, King Jaehaerys The Wise. Your shoulders slump reluctantly. You should trust him, you know you should–you are so very tired but the night is still relatively young and the troupes must still be waiting outside for you. Jace catches as your eyes track the opening of the tent and he is quick to soften you. “I told them we would resume our meetings tomorrow. You will not miss a thing, my sweet. I swear it to you.” His gentle kiss presses to your temple–one of the few acceptable places he can express such affections. When he pulls himself back, he lingers. Tentative, he waits. His eyes flicker to yours with unabashed uncertainty. “But first you must swear to me that you will rest.” Heat floods your cheeks but you have never shied away from eye contact before and you refuse to do it now. His eyes close and his breath fans over your lips. “Swear it to me.” He repeats through the air of a whisper. “I swear it.” You utter just as quietly, curling your palm around his hand and pressing a long, warm kiss to the knuckles. Jacaerys would be lying if he said that it was not a relief. He could not remember the last night you slept in where you did not awaken suddenly and draft a new strategy. That you did not recall a new route. One that needed your immediate and unrestrained attention. 

And so as the night calls out for you, your soon-husband’s arms slip around you and one loops beneath your legs until he can haul you against him. His breath stutters as he inhales the scent of your hair. His lashes flutter against one another and he takes a few steady steps through the tent. Loving each other had taken its time. It had taken screaming arguments, jealousy, rekindling…but it had also taken laughter and warmth and kindness. Kindness that neither of you thought to be deserved. It had taken the darkest eves and the most golden mornings. He settles you on the plush mattress this night, and brushes back the uncomfortable strands of hair that cling to your skin. Your neck, your face, even the petals of your lips. He cannot blame them for craving your closeness. He hesitates as you close your eyes and your back squirms into place. For only one moment more, he lets himself take in a portrait of your rest. Jacaerys Velaryon, Prince of Dragonstone, Son of Rhaenyra and future King of the Seven Kingdoms accepts that he craves for nothing but your warmth. He intends to keep you as safe as this every eve, every nightfall. 

One sleepless night after the next, he shall be your rest. 

[byuntrash101]

Partition

reader x dom!mingi ft. jongho

smut | nsfw | mdni

husband!mingi,he's obessessed with you, nipple play, hint of body worship if u squint, praising, exhibitionism, voyeurism, cameo!jongho, marking, pet names, orgasm control, size kink, fingering with rings on, hand kink, im obessesed with his hands just leave me alone

requested | part of my 2023 prompt event [closed]

finally back from a long business trip your husband takes you to a very nice date to celebrate. but after so long apart you are not sure you can keep your hands to yourself on your way to the restaurant

[❛i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know.❜]

TUMBLR IS BASED ON REBLOGS. PLEASE REBLOG MY WORK 🖤

Inspired by Partition by Beyoncé

Took forty-five minutes to get all dressed up

We ain't even gonna make it to this club

Being married to Song Mingi, the extremely successful music producer, came with a price. And that price was time. Mingi’s time was a rare resource and extremely valuable. One day working with the Weeknd on his next album, the next day negotiating to sign with Beyonce. He was always traveling and working. 

But despite all of that your husband always made sure you were his top priority and that you knew about it. Whether he would take you around the world with him and catch a nice vacation for the both of you after an intense business trip or he would make sure to take you out to a very nice date on his return.

This time it was the latter. Mingi had been gone for a while. He had to postpone the flight back to Korea a couple of times to get the job done in LA. But finally that was out of the way and he was back to you. 

The timing was so tight that it was to the point where he didn’t have time to come home before the date and was just going to pick you up with his chauffeur. He didn't tell you where you were going but he said “to be prepared to be blown away”.

And coming from him that meant a lot. Mingi liked nice things and he always opted for the very best regardless of the price. So knowing that about him you knew the occasion will be anything but modest.

You opted for a lilac designer night gown, with a delicately beaded corsage that complimented your neckline, dipping just low enough. The bottom of the dress was flowy, a gradient color from lilac color to a nude. The material was flowy with light feathers and mesh. It was gorgeous and grandiose. Like the promise of this night finally reunited with your husband.

Your make up was along the line of the dress. Nude with some pop of color on the lids and on the lips. Noticeable but elegant.

When the doorbell rang you felt your stomach tighten. You were nervous. After all these years he still made your guts stir with anticipation. There’s no denying you’re head over hills for this man.

You run to the entryway, grabbing your clutch on the way and open the big mansion door.

When you look up at him you see him as dashing as ever. Cladded in a haute couture black tuxedo. Long ash blonde hair slicked back, just a single strand curved on his forehead. He looked dapper. He held out his hand for you to climb down the front steps to his arm, making sure not to injure yourself with your stiletto heels.

“You’re absolutely stunning," he said, kissing you softly on the lips, his mouth being pulled in the signature half smile that you loved so much.

He opened the door of the limo for you and helped you get in with the dress, setting you in comfortably.

The chauffeur did the same to him and took place behind the wheel. 

Mingi gave him instructions on the destination. Your husband was used to bossing people around and it put you in a different mood to hear his stern voice.

You couldn’t help but to want him to boss you too. It was your turn and you couldn't stand one more second of him giving his attention to anybody other than you.

So you let your hand rest on his knee. At first he makes nothing of it and continues to guide the chauffeur around the traffic jam. So you let your hands glide up his thick muscular thigh all the way to his crotch. When your pinky brushes against his sensitive area you stop.

“What are you doing?” Mingi interrupts himself to look at you. Even though it’s a question it’s rhetorical because he knows damn well what you are doing.

“Kiss me” you answered in a feverish tone.

Mingi obliged when you pulled him by his tie. His huge frame towering over you as you felt miniscule, vulnerable and turned on. Your hands started to roam his body through his attire first the thighs then the abs then when you were about to reach his growing bulge he caught your hand.

“Shouldn’t we eat before we get to the dessert?” he lightly chuckles at your enthusiasm. You sighed deeply, visibly annoyed.

What a joykill.

“Fine!” you pouted, sitting yourself back. “But I'm not wearing any underwear. Thought you’d like to know.” you added in a slightly teasing tone.

Mingi’s expression instantly changed. From the light hearted chuckles to the cold and serious eyes that held so much power over you. The turn in his behavior and in his aura was obvious. From loving husband to sex deprived pervert.

He started to wrestle with your dress, lifting it up to testify of the truth of your statement and you squealed in surprise when you found yourself exposed like that without a heads up. Your husband let go of the flowy fabric, hiding your intimacy again behind the numerous linings and looked at you in disbelief.

“You are actually serious”

“Of course I am” you bite back hurriedly flattening the material back in place.

“Fuck baby” Mingi burried his face in the crook of your neck, his deep voice merely a low rumble soaked with lust hitting you right in the chest, tightening your stomach in knots of anticipation. You knew this tone and what it meant.

“I was trying…” he started to kiss your neck going up to your ear. “was trying so fucking hard to behave.” He licked around your ear, wet sounds bouncing back on the low ceiling of the limo, making your arousal leak through the unguarded designer dress. 

“Trying to be a good husband, not devouring you the second I laid eyes on you” his hand dug into your waist pulling you closer to him. “But I can’t fucking win with you, can I?” he growled, unexpectedly biting your earlobe.

You were absolutely feral for him. After being separated for such a longtime the only thing you wanted was to be his. His cedarwood and orange blossom cologne was making you dizzy. Hypnotized by his deep voice. Controlled by his big hands.

He started to push your thin straps to the side. But as your chest was about to finally reveal itself to Mingi’s hungry gaze you stopped him.

“Shouldn’t we roll up the partition?” you asked, throwing one worried glance at the chauffeur that seemed a little too focussed on the road to be genuine. 

“Don’t worry I pay Jongho well enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Isn’t that right Jongho?”

“It is, Sir” the chauffeur politely responded, expressionless eyes, diligently glued to the road. 

“See?” Mingi returned with a sly smirk “Plus you know how much I love showing you off” he tipped your strap over your shoulder, revealing one of your breasts. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and knowing you were potentially being watched didn’t help one bit but somehow it felt thrilling.

Your husband pushed the other strap and soon your chest was on full display for him.

“So fucking perfect for me” he whispered immediately diving in and tasting your fiery skin on his wet tongue.

His mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, teasing it, biting it and sucking it while his hand was fondling and pinching the other. Until they reached full hardness.

You whined at his every touch, barely containing yourself to beg for more, to beg for him.

“Fuck baby show it to me again” he breathed out he as prompt his chin to the dress.

You had a glance to Jongho, still as calm and focused as a meditating monk. And you lifted the dress once again. 

Mingi’s jaw dropped in awe. He always considered you as one of the seven wonders of the world. But each time he looked at you it seemed like somehow you got even more perfect.

He brought his hand to gently pull your lips apart. Uncovering the unholy and glistening mess you managed to make in such a short time.

“You’re so fucking wet for me” he sighed, biting down his bottom lip, your shimering folds putting a spell on him.

“Please Mingi” you squirmed. “Please, I want you.” 

“Good girl, asking so nicely… Just can’t say no to you”

His thumb circled over your clit, drawing a light gasp out of you. Slow and steady circles only making you gush even more. Mingi slipped one finger inside and you felt like you were melting at the end of his fingers, nails digging in the expensive leather of the limo. Your stilettos barely hanging to your toes.

“Yessss” you whined, finally getting what you’ve been craving for weeks.

“You’re sucking me in so well baby” Mingi praised before slipping a second finger in. You felt the warm metal of his wedding ring entering you and whined louder.

“Please…faster” you asked, short of breath, your mind getting hazy.

“Of course, my princess” 

He curled his fingers right into your sweet spot, circling it a couple of times before pumping in and out of you.

His big hands were experts at making you come undone for him, ravaging you in the most pleasant of ways. He knew you like the back of his hand and you couldn't help but to shamelessly moan and every thrust of his wrist.

“That's it baby. We want to hear you squeal” his lustful voice whispered.

We? 

You glanced over at the chauffeur again and this time you could have sworn you made eye contact in the rearview mirror while his face was briefly shone under the pacing street lights but… did you imagine that?

“Hmmm baby” Mingi smacked his lips. “You really like giving a good show, huh?” Mingi smirked as he felt you becoming tighter. “Such a good girl for me.” He pumped in and out at a faster pace. A pace that he knew would end you. But since he hadn’t uttered the magic words yet you held it in.

It took everything you had to not cum on the spot. You tried to not think about your husband's lustful eyebrow raises and lip bites, about the unholy squelching wet sounds your wet cunt was producing, about the wandering eyes of Jongho in the front seat. You tried so hard but you were on the verge of exploding.

“Pleaseee” you desperately begged as a last cry for help, a last hopeless request for your release.

“Go ahead my princess” Mingi whispered, administering the fatal blow as his thumb went back to drawing fast circles on your hyper sensitive clit while finger fucking you into oblivion. 

“Cum. Now.” his stern low voice ordered.

You instantly came undone. Your pussy gripping around your husband’s beautiful long fingers, stretching you to perfection. Your nectar flowing out of your like a river as you cried out in bliss, throwing your head back on the head rest, eyes rolling back into your skull with fatal joy.

Mingi gradually slowed down, allowing you to come off your high before pulling his digits out of you. You crashed your lips on his not caring about the state of your lipstick and started to fidget with the buttons of his vest but he started to chuckles into the kiss.

“Babe, we’re here” he said, pushing his messy hair back.

“What already?” you pouted in disappointment.

“We’ve been in the car for almost 45 minutes” your husband chuckled again.

“But I…”

“Let’s go baby or they might give our table away… Let's eat and on the way back I'll let you return the favor. How about that?” your eyes darted to his constricted bulge, lips burning at the idea of tasting him.

“Find a parking spot and wait for us, Jongho… I have a feeling we won’t be long”

“Yes, Sir”

A/N: oof sorry for taking so long to update! my first mingi smut did you like it?? leave a comment or drop by my asks. feedback is always appreciated <3

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Hi there! Could I please request some hcs with Tenjiku? Where reader has like this yk2 grunge/alt OR the goth style of clothing if ykwim? And, because of this style reader has, they draw a lot of attention to themselves and because they are pretty too ofc, hehe😈

It's like the exact opposite to the hyper feminine, pink coquette style!reader you did recently on another hcs. I hope you understood what I meant because english is not my first language... 🤧🫶🫶

Tenjiku x Y2K Grunge!Reader

♡ SFW, suggestive, fem reader, fluff, jealousy, flirting, reader gets hit on a lot, reader attracts attention ♡

note: thanks for requesting anon and don't worry I understood ya perfectly 🩷

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Izana

🎴 Gets you a pair of earrings that match his, he needs everyone to know you're together

🎴 Super possessive over you and will absolutely roundhouse kick the shit out of someone if they flirt with you

🎴 Does your makeup for you, probably steals your boots too because they make him look taller

Kakucho

🩷 A fan of all of your outfits, thinks your style is very chill and fits you well

🩷 Especially loves when you wear baggy clothes because he thinks you're prettiest when you're comfy

🩷 Won't threaten anybody if they look at you, but definitely gives them a polite warning look (he deadass gives them death stares but he swears he didn't)

Ran

💜 Always threatening people in public for looking at you (he can't blame them though because he be looking too)

💜 Makes jokes about bondage when he sees you decked out in more than one belt

💜 Matches jewelry with you and really wants to get matching tattoos

Rindou

🩵 Doesn't understand why you drown yourself in accessories but he can't deny it's cute

🩵 Loves when you wear skirts, especially denim ones with intricate stitching

🩵 Gives people side eyes when they look at you, he knows you're beautiful but he also knows that they see his damn arm around your waist

Mucho

🔷 Loves when you wear oversized t-shirts, it reminds him of how cute and tiny you are, he'll even offer up his own shirts for you to wear

🔷 Won't hesitate to rock someone in their jaw for looking at you for too long

🔷 Buys you a bunch of jewelry and chains for you to hook on your pants, he got you dripped tf out for real

Mochi

🍡 Obsessed with the fishnets that you wear, whether it be stockings or a shirt, he's here for it

🍡 Puts people in headlocks for hitting on you and only lets go when you tell him to

🍡 Loves how you look in a crop top, he thinks your tummy looks cute (he pinches you nonstop too)

Shion

🖤 Y'all are that one hot grunge couple honestly, he's in love with the way you dress and wants to match constantly

🖤 Makes you walk ahead of him when you're out so you don't see him beating the shit out of somebody for looking at you

🖤 He especially loves the big boots you wear, just a normal amount though he totally doesn't want you to step on him or anything weird like that

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies

[ai-manre]

A new lie I have seen many Sansa stans regurgitate both here and on reddit is that Sansa actually stopped calling Jon a bastard after finding out what the word meant, and instead started calling him "half-brother".

This is completely and blatantly false, as Jon's narration makes it clear that she refused to call him anything but "half-brother" since finding out he's a bastard. Their next argument is that all his other siblings also called him half-brother/bastard-brother and that Sansa is unfairly singled out. The difference would be extremely clear to anyone who actually read the books and not out of context quotes: Sansa is the only one to look down on Jon and attribute stereotypical traits to him due to his bastardy. No other Starkling does that not once. It's not called being "so class conscious that she is kind and realistic" no, it's just being classist and prejudiced. Boring, run of the mill classism. Also the irony of saying this makes Sansa a realist, when Sansa is the character known best for denying and rewriting reality lol.

This is something anybody who read the books and has the reading comprehension of a snail should be able to realize immediately without having it be explained to them. But this is just a trait symptomatic of all the arguments Sansa stans make, they actually really dislike the character she actually is but want a conventional feminine character to project on so they will try to warp everything they can get their hands on. Unfortunately that involves my fav Jon.

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 20: Gorou x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 6243

Warnings: Afab!reader, werewolf inspired, ABO inspired, predator/prey, heat/rut cycles, breeding, knotting, sex outdoors, piv, creampie

A/N: Its not midnight where I'm at yet so that means I'm definitely not late with this one, right? Right. Not beta read because I suck so please be forgiving of any typos! 🙈

⭐

Watatsumi Island was home to many long stretches of unsettled land and uncultivated fields, in part due to the unique environmental hazards it hosted that made human expansion difficult. It was also due to the various monster populations found there which seemed like an exceptionally high concentration in such a small, closed off area. But there were gradual efforts being made to clear out any potential threats to make it safer for its humble population of residents, which was slowly opening up more and more wide open spaces that were safe to access. They also provided plenty of relative privacy when most people were still wary about venturing too far from their small villages, especially at night. 

Luckily neither you or Gorou were ‘most people’, and you find that these recent efforts have served the two of you incredibly well. 

Being of the canine persuasion, he was more partial to being outdoors rather than being stuck inside a confined space where he had to be mindful of his actions and the flickering arc of his excitable tail. Out in the luminescent fields of Watatsumi, however, he was free to run and jump, climb whatever caught his attention, and even let down his guard enough to openly snuggle up to you for a pet. 

It was sometimes hard for him, denying his natural urges like that, but he was determined to be the capable and exemplary General his men thought him to be. That meant no floofing his pointy ears where anybody might see it. 

Unfortunately that also meant you’d had to help him through some tough spots at certain intervals throughout the year in the cramped space of your little thatch work home. It was decidedly not fun trying to wrangle a half delirious man who was twice as strong as you during the highest point of his rut, or to keep him quiet while he was energetically pounding you into the floor so he didn’t alarm any of your neighbors. 

The slow moving process of wiping out bands of Hilichurls and exorcizing specters from the places they haunted had opened up new and exciting possibilities for you though. Now instead of having to muzzle him before he slipped fully into his hormone driven mating drive, the two of you could instead plan an expedition out into the wilderness ahead of time where he would be able to knot you as much as he wanted without running half the risk of detection as you did in the village. 

Although you very strongly suspected that Her Excellency, the high priestess of Watatsumi, had at least an inkling as to what was going on when her General went missing at around the same time with each passing season, you understood the need for secrecy, even from her. More than anything Gorou wanted to be taken seriously by those around him, and to that end you were happy to help him in whatever way you could. 

So the two of you spend the days leading up to the first full moon of the fall season discussing your game plan for this next trip. And he manages to surprise you a bit when he somewhat shyly admits he wanted to try something new with you, since there was so much open space for you to venture into now. 

“I’d like to hunt you this time, if that’s okay?” 

You’re not entirely sure what to make of that request at first, your mind stumbling over a multitude of questions and uncertain lines of inquiry, but he quickly clarifies that he just means in a playful way that shouldn’t result in anyone getting hurt. He had all the usual senses of a dog, from his keen hearing to his equally impressive sense of smell so it probably made a certain amount of sense that the challenge of tracking you down would appeal to him. 

Ultimately you agree to the suggestion, working out some ground rules and safe words in case he got a little too caught up in the moment and you needed to step back to regroup. Even at his most delirious, Gorou was always exceptionally good at listening to you so you trusted that he wouldn’t get so carried away as to accidentally cause you any harm. 

You’re also admittedly a little excited about this new and fun game you’ve laid out with him, wondering how long you could evade him once the chase began. He was quicker, stronger and better at tracking than you were, there wasn’t any doubt about that, but you weren’t a completely helpless waif either. Having grown up on Watatsumi your whole life, you had your own arsenal of tricks up your sleeve that you were looking forward to trying out on him. 

And when it’s finally time for you to set off, a day earlier than he was expected to leave which would allow you enough of a head start to truly challenge his skills, you bid Gorou a fond farewell and a cheeky grin. The eager wag of his tail assures you he’s quite excited about the looming hunt just on the horizon, his biological cues already starting to kick into gear with the changing of the seasons. 

Out into the stretching countryside of Watatsumi’s meager island you go, small supplies pack thrown over your shoulder and a low pulsing hum between your legs. 

You make your way into the rolling grasslands in the near west without running into any complications or trouble along the way, thanks in no small part to all the effort and strategic planning of Her Excellency. There isn’t even a rogue hilichurl wandering about as far as you can see, and you eventually come upon a nicely vacant stretch of hilly meadow where the foliage was permanently imbued with a vaguely purple hue and there wasn't sign of anyone else for miles. 

This is where you set up camp, eagerly looking forward to when Gorou would join you sometime the following evening. You’d agreed to the staggered departure times on the condition that he would carry most of the supplies with him, which only left you with a small, pre prepared bento to eat for dinner. 

Not that you were particularly bothered by this though. You’d quickly found that going into Gorou’s rut cycle was always better on a light stomach. Although you would certainly need the calories soon enough, it wasn’t any good to put too much pressure on your guts when he would soon be folding you in half in all manner of different positions. 

That night it takes a great deal of effort on your part not touch yourself underneath the nearly full moon when you were so excited just thinking about how this was going to go. How long would it take him to find you, when would he catch you, what position was he going to fuck you in first? There were a multitude of questions just at your feet and you’re so eager to find the answers that you have a bit of a hard time falling asleep. 

But you do drift off, eventually, and you let yourself stay in bed late the next day to make up for it, knowing that extra rest would come in handy later on. The following hours pass by so peacefully that at a certain point you almost manage to forget you were out there for the specific purpose of being pounded into a stupor, giving him ample opportunity to relentlessly fuck into you without anyone interrupting or questioning his state of mind. 

It’s only when darkness begins to fall do you finally give in to the lingering urge to shudder at the thought of what was soon going to happen. You were eager to get started and your cunt was already wet with excitable slick, but you had no idea when he would arrive or when he would make his move. The full moon hangs heavy and watchful overhead, keeping a silent eye on the long stretch of open field across Watatsumi’s western peninsula and casting everything in a bright moonbeam glow, so you were relatively certain he would be much too energized to wait very long once he’d found you. 

You’re not entirely sure what it is about the moon cycle that affects him the way that it does, but Her Excellency had once explained to you that the ocean tides were likewise influenced by its waxing and waning, and you think the two are likely intertwined in some way. It’s a bit beyond your scope though, so you don’t think about it much further than that, far more interested in listening for any signs of Gorou’s approach. 

The later it gets and the deeper night slips over the motionless field, the more antsy and jittery you become. Nature is never truly quiet, and you jump at every little sound that your racing thoughts perceive to be out of the ordinary but nothing comes of it for a long time. So much so that at a certain point you almost wonder if he was having a hard time tracking you down. 

And then you finally hear it. A deliberately purposeful snap of a branch in the not far distance. 

The crack of brittle wood snapping seems loud and it rings across the rustling grass like a flint lock gunshot, making a vague sense of unease curl through your mind. Slowly straightening up from the resting slouch you’d slipped into, you look out over the otherwise silent field to listen for any other sounds. 

You can’t make out anything from the usual though. Just the soft rumble of waves lapping at the shoreline on the other side of the hilly valley, unseen but not unheard, and the stilted sound of chirping insects calling out to each other from somewhere close by. You think you might even be able to pick out the shrill cry of a seafaring bird somewhere far away from where you were sat, but that’s it. 

The resounding lack of anything noteworthy almost manages to convince you that you’d only imagined the crack of a tree branch snapping, and you grudgingly start to get yourself settled back in again. But you only make it halfway through the motion when a sudden, attention grabbing howl rises up in the air, and you immediately bolt upright again. 

Stiff and halting, you just sit there frozen for a drawn out moment while you listen to that eerie noise carry over the land for what feels like miles around. It sounds like it’s coming from all sides of you at once and you’re not quite sure which direction to swivel your attention towards. Now your mild pang of uncertainty devolves into full blown dread as you frantically try to run through the short list of possibilities in your mind. 

You’d never heard Gorou howl like that before so you weren’t entirely sure if it was him or not. But if it wasn’t, if your General had not tracked you down yet and something else was making that noise, then that really only left one other possible culprit. Riftwolves. This area had been cleared out though so you didn’t understand how that was possible, unless … they’d migrated down from further north? 

Suddenly not feeling quite so excited and eager anymore, you nervously climb to your feet and look around, taking care not to make too much noise that might alert whatever it was to your location. You’d doused your campfire at the very onset of nightfall since there was more than enough moonlight and you didn’t want to make it any easier for Gorou to spot you, but now you were starting to wish you still had the comfort of a fire to huddle around. 

This probably was not good. If there really were riftwolves prowling around out there you were as good as a sitting duck. They were known to hunt in packs, and with only your trusty bow and a hunting knife on hand you knew you’d never be able to fight them off by yourself. 

You’re mentally running through your frustratingly few options when it starts up again, a single, solitary howl that makes every individual hair on your body stand on end. It sounds much closer this time, as if whatever the source it was making its way down the sloping hills somewhere just behind you. It’s hard to say for certain when the reverberating sound seems to echo from each direction but you quickly decide to trust your instincts. If it sounded like it was coming from the rear then you were going to move in the opposite direction. 

Quickly shouldering your decorated quiver full of arrows and ensuring your knife was still sheathed at your hip, you creep off into the relative darkness, making sure to stay low so as to avoid drawing too much attention. You have to leave everything else behind for the moment, your simple roll out bed and your humble pack of supplies so you can travel lightly without being weighed down by stuff you didn’t currently need. Hopefully it would still be there when you retraced your steps back. 

Clutching your bow in your dominant hand so tightly the wood begins to creak, you sweep your gaze out over the immediate surroundings as far as you’re able to make out. Even with the brightly lit full moon overhead your eyes are still limited to a smaller line of sight than usual, and you can feel cold sweat beginning to prickle over your skin as it starts to sink in just how helpless you really are out here. Oh, how you sorely hoped it was Gorou and not something else.

The fact it was only one howl and there hadn’t yet been any responding calls is of a small comfort to you when the primal part of your brain was steadily inching towards fearful panic. Logically you wanted to trust that it was the General as the two of you were the only ones who would have had any need to be this far from any human settlements in the middle of the night but … he’d never made that sound before, as far as you were aware. Was he even capable of doing that? 

You think he must be, given that he was equal parts human and canine. If he looked very much like a dog, acted very much like a dog, and was ruled by hormonal, instinctive drive much like a dog then it only made sense that he should be able to vocalize much like one too, right? 

Unfortunately you don’t get the chance to let your higher functioning thoughts talk some sense to your animal brain and reason you down from the ledge. 

All at once you're hyper aware of the sound of footsteps in the grass, still some few yards behind you but quickly closing the distance. Whatever it is, it was running right towards you and you don’t stop long enough to count how many legs it sounded like it was moving on. 

Your violently hammering heart is suddenly in your throat as you lurch into a full on sprint, clutching your bow in a death grip while you frantically tear across the field. In a far off, dreamy sort of way, you realize you’re frightened. Really, truly scared of what was chasing you down like this, and whatever excitement you may have had going into this little adventure seems like a long distant memory now. 

Survival was the only thing you could focus on in the here and now, and your subconscious reactions seemed to suggest you were really going to die if you didn’t escape. 

Legs pumping as fast as they can conceivably carry you, you struggle to breathe around that existential fear making your chest feel tight and uncomfortable. Those heavy, predatory footfalls are still right behind you and quickly gaining ground even while you desperately scan for something you can hide behind or inside of. The scenery is going by in such a fast, shadowy blur though that you can’t quite make out what it is you’re seeing. 

Closer and closer, that looming presence at your back draws nearer until it feels like it’s breathing right down your neck. A terrified, breathless sob bubbles up inside your constricting throat at the sense of impending doom that rapidly closes in on you with it. This must be what it feels like for the hunted hare being chased to exhaustion by a pack of dogs. You weren’t going to be able to keep this up for much longer. 

Feeling your gait start to waver when the fast pumping adrenaline begins to take its toll, you blindly reach down with your free hand to grip the hilt of your knife in a sweaty fist. At least you still  had one last option if it turned out not to be Gorou. And you very badly hoped it was. 

But before you can even consider what you were going to do if it wasn’t him, you’re slammed into from behind with enough force to send you flying head over heels. You’re so out of breath that you can’t even scream as you go down in a flailing heap of tangled limbs, your bow slipping loose and cartwheeling through the air to land in the grass somewhere. 

You hit the ground with a jolting rattle, grunting a winded sound when your pursuant lands right on top of you for a split second before quickly rolling off. Left gasping raggedly in the grass, you wince when the pain slowly sinks in and you realize just how sore your tired legs actually were in addition to all the other bumps and bruises you now had. There was no way you could run again. You weren’t even sure if you could properly walk after barreling straight into a dead sprint for what felt like miles, a few at the very least. The only option you had now was to face whatever it was head on. 

Groaning a hurt sound, you force your reeling head up from the grass to cautiously peer over in the direction it had rolled towards. Genuine surprise and a vague note of uncertainty freeze you in your tracks though when you find Gorou crouched there in the dirt on all fours, baring his sharp teeth at you. Behind him you can see his fluffy tail listlessly flicking back and forth in a stiff, anticipatory arc, and for a horrible moment you just stare at him in numb disbelief. 

It really was him, and he’d hunted you down like little more than a helpless prey animal. 

“G - Gorou?” You whisper in a tiny, faltering voice, throat so raw and scratchy in the wake of that unexpected sprint through the dark that you don’t quite sound like yourself at the moment. You thought you’d understood what he wanted to do, what he was asking you for when he first brought it up, but there was some naive, trusting part of you that hadn’t thought he’d hunt you so ruthlessly. 

His ears aggressively flicking forward, Gorou straightens slightly from his hunched position but stays braced on all fours when he lumbers towards you, clearly not used to this quadruped locomotion. Something about seeing him like that manages to unnerve you deeply and you suck in a wet, half choked breath as you quickly fumble to push yourself upright. 

A low, rumbling growl immediately starts up from him though, as if warning you to be careful, and the vibration of that sound bleeds right into you where it takes root inside your quaking guts. Going still again, you force yourself not to move while he sidles up right next to you, his body language stiffly held and intimidating. Watching him lean close to put his face by your vulnerable neck so he can hungrily sniff at you, you distantly realize why this was so scary. 

He looked like a surly, belligerent alpha male, the sort that would rule over his pack with an iron fist. It’s an odd thing to think about your usually gentle lover and you’re not entirely sure what to make of it, how much stock you want to put into that impression. But there’s no denying the similarities in the packs of dogs you’ve seen around the island and the way he looks now, and you shudder with the roiling wave of uncertainty that crashes into you. 

You weren’t overly familiar with the mating habits of actual canines, having thought Gorou was so removed from his four legged cousins that you’d never bothered to do any in depth research. It almost seems like the freedom granted to him by Watatsumi’s unoccupied countryside far away from any listening ears or prying eyes had brought out this more animalistic side of him though. He suddenly seems more beast than man now, and you can’t quite stop the frightened little hiccup that makes your chest hitch. 

His keen ears twitching at the sound, Gorou leans back from your neck to direct his face close to yours. You shoot him a quick, wary glance, thinking he was perhaps going to kiss you, but all he does is issue another low growl. The message was clear. Stay still and behave for him or face the consequences. 

Sucking in a painfully slow breath to try and steady your nerves, you kneel there in the grass and the dirt as he shuffles around to crouch behind you now. Ever so slowly, you cautiously turn your neck to peer back at him just in time to watch the General sniff along your back straight down to your ass where he proceeds to demandingly nudge at you. You hesitate to do it but when he rumbles another warning at you, you quickly comply and lean forward to brace on your hands and knees. 

Evidently pleased with that, Gorou leans down and rather unceremoniously shoves his face into the spot between your legs, snuffling at you loudly. The sensation as much as the sound makes a sharp electric zap shoot up your spine and you stiffly rock forward, hips instinctively twitching upward as if to present to him. 

The realization of what you’re doing stops you in your tracks though, a fresh pang of horror creeping through you. Either the lack of oxygen from that impromptu marathon was making you crazy or the hard dominance in Gorou’s posture was effecting you on a subconscious level. You’re not entirely sure which it is, and your nails helplessly curl into the dirt underneath you while he nudges at you again, encouraging you to spread your thighs for him. 

Cautiously slow, you comply with this too. 

His breath is hot and clinging against you even through the layers of your clothes which he insistently noses at as if to push the fabric out of the way. You were only wearing a thin yukata with short pants on underneath, both for you own ease of movement and to give him relatively easy access. You hadn’t expected him to already be this out of sorts by the time he found you though, and you can tell he isn’t thinking straight enough to figure out how to get at you on his own. 

And he becomes increasingly more impatient, shoving his mouth so tightly against you from behind that your pussy sensitively flutters under the pressure. You’re a little surprised at how quickly your earlier excitement was starting to roar back to life now that he was here with you, touching you like this, but you’re glad for it. Both for his sake as much as your own. 

Appreciatively groaning a tension filled sound under your breath, you carefully shift the full brunt of your weight to one hand so you can reach down with the other, slipping it between your legs. Gorou growls in warning again when your fingers crowd into the space he clearly saw as his territory, yet he makes no move to stop you when you grab at the material to begin awkwardly tugging it down for him. It’s especially hard to do in this position, with him flush against you like this, but you slowly manage to work the thin shorts low enough to expose a strip of yourself to him. 

Rumbling a voracious sound when he seems to catch his first real whiff of you, Gorou blindly lifts his gloved hand up to hook it into your pants and shove them down, baring your cunt fully at him. He leaves your bottoms haphazardly tangled around your thighs as he goes back up to grab a pinching handful of your ass, nudging you forward when he indelicately shoves it apart from the other so he can press his mouth in right against your puckered hole. 

A sharp inhale catches in your throat at the sudden sensation, but you just groan a faltering sound and push back on him, angling your hips up in an attempt to encourage him a little lower. He seems to have another goal in mind though, much too caught up on the urge to sink himself into you as deeply as he can reach to think very much about your pleasure. 

It’s rough and borderline impartial when he straightens up to hover over you, fumbling to push at your yukata and make it bunch around your waist with his stiffly poised hands. He doesn’t bother with completely undressing you, and as soon as he’s got the fabric pushed out of the way enough he takes your hips in a pinchingly tight hold to pull you back against him. 

Your bare pussy presses back into the front of his pants, firmly grinding into your heat, and you promptly succumb to a full bodied tremble when you feel the stiff jab of his erection digging into you. A potently sharp surge of arousal tears through your body at the suggestion, the promise and the threat in that simple little gesture. One would think you would have been used to it by now and yet you’re so finely tuned in to the physical presence of your lover's body that you can’t help but pick up on some of his excitement. 

Moaning a soft, faltering sound, you invitingly roll your hips back to grind into him, earning yourself another snarl and a too tight squeeze to your hips. Roughly dragging his hands up along your sides, Gorou leans what feels like his whole weight into his braced arms and forces your upper half down to the grass, making you assume a true rutting position for him. 

It’s suddenly getting hard to breathe again while he holds you there, pants pulled halfway down your legs and your vulnerable cunt pointed up at him, your own need to be taken and claimed ratcheting higher to match a very small fraction of his arousal. Hands weakly curling in the grass for something to hold on to, you simply lie there like that, helpless and panting softly as he shifts further up behind you to fumble with his own bottoms. 

It seems to take him a prolonged moment to get everything tugged down enough to free himself and you just start to wonder if you need to help him with this too when he takes hold of your hips again. Yanking you back against him, you feel his stiff cock press against you from behind, slotting itself along your sticky slit. A sharp gasp rattles around inside your chest at the sensation of all that smooth, silky flesh pushed into you so tightly, making your cunt flood. 

All you can think is that you’re ready for him, you needed him, wanted him to lay claim to your body and mark it as his. But Gorou just slips and slides through your soaked folds with the first few nudges of his locked hips, smearing copious slick everywhere in the process. He’s much too impatient now, taking a few more blind jabs at your entrance in hopes of catching himself at just the right angle. When that doesn’t work though he rumbles a sound of annoyance before pushing up to stand just behind you with his spread legs bracketing your hips. 

Leaning over you now, he once again finds your shoulders and presses his weight into you, forcing your spine to bow under the pressure in a needy arch. He lowers his pelvis at the same time, sending the meaty tip of his cock spearing through your wet lips once, twice — and finally hitting you dead center on the third. 

Your mouth immediately springs open, wailing a plaintive sound out across the field of softly rustling grass while he bullies his throbbing length into you, forcing your sticky walls to open under the pressure and make room for him. He doesn’t even wait until he’s fully sheathed inside of you, just starting right in on a quick, energetic rhythm that gradually works himself the rest of the way inside you. The force of his thrusts knocks loose a series of gasping groans and heaving gasps from you, the full brunt of his weight driving his hips down against your upturned ass so energetically that the resulting slap of skin hitting skin sounds deafeningly loud. 

And he shudders fiercely over top of you, throwing his head back to howl a satisfied sound up at the moon overhead. 

Jolting back and forth each time he drives into your squelching cunt, you warily turn your neck to just peer over your shoulder at him. So it really was Gorou making that noise. You’d never heard him sound like that before but you could probably attribute that to always having to do this either in the village or quite near to it. 

Here though he was free to let his instincts take over for him and throw caution aside, his tail wagging so stiffly behind him you can tell he’s enjoying this total inhibition a great deal. 

You are too, truth be told, and you freely cry out in pleasure when he at last lets up on your shoulders enough to let you push to your elbows. His grasping hands drag down your back on a sure and steady trajectory to your hips again, pulling the top of your yukata loose enough that your bouncing tits start to spill out. 

Seething at the continuous plunge of his cock into your hot, squirming guts, you distractedly try to shrug the loosely hanging robe further down, moaning a high strung sound when you feel your nipples finally drag over the grass. That’s about as much as you can manage right now though, your head spinning dizzyingly fast to accompany the rapid plunge of his length, giving yourself over to that quick paced onslaught of sensation. 

Gorou seems nearly out of his mind on top of you, growling and grunting his pleasure for the entire immediate area to hear. And given his wild state, pushed right to the limit of his own body’s capacity by the looks of it, you’re not the least bit surprised when you feel his cock steadily expanding around the base. The addition of that rounded pressure on either side of his shaft just makes your pussy schluck even louder around him, clicking obscenely each time he shoves it into you and then drags it out again. 

The pressure is mind numbing in its sheer potency, your cunt weeping uncontrollably against the demanding intrusion now. No matter how many times you experience this you never fully get used to the sensation of being knotted, of having your internal sleeve stretched as far as you think it can go while he forces that growing bulge into you again and again, and again. 

It pushes in on every little nerve ending and rubs over the sensitive spot along your upper wall to damn near send you careening over the edge into hysterics, bucking frantically underneath him when the tension starts to tip and your impending orgasm begins to bear down on you. 

And you cum with a stricken wail, clawing desperately at the ground as Gorou just continues pounding into you even when the wild pulse of your body squeezes him tight in a clinging grip. It’s like you were subconsciously trying to hold onto him and lock the two of you together, and it’s that energetic spasm of your guts that finally encourages his knot to swell to full size. 

Suddenly he can no longer execute a full thrust, and instead merely tugs back on your cunt without going anywhere before shoving himself back in again. The limited range has him jabbing at your insides so roughly you feel yourself instinctively brace for another orgasm, the constant jostle against your cunt making the pressure swell right back to full force. 

You feel delirious and mad with the continuous waves of ecstasy that slam into you again and again, each and every time he rams his pelvis into your bare ass. But before you can find that breaking point again he shudders over top of you and howls, using his hold on your hips to yank you back when the fierce tremors become too much. 

Clutching you against him tight enough to hurt, Gorou cums with a wounded lurch, shooting a hot, pulsing stream of creamy release deep into your cunt. The sensation is thick and heavy inside you, making you moan as your eyes start to roll back in doped out bliss. You can feel his knot throbbing within you as well, stretching your pussy so wide around its girth that he couldn’t have dislodged his cock from you even if he’d tried. And he just keeps pumping more and more spend into you until you can feel it warmly sloshing around and gathering at the entrance of your womb. 

There's so much of it that it would have started seeping out of you in heavy, sticky sheets had he not had you so thoroughly plugged, and you groan a reeling sound of deep felt pleasure when he gradually eases himself down to the ground behind you, panting just as raggedly as you are. But you’re still stuck together and would be for the foreseeable future until the swelling of his knot started to go down, so he moves gingerly as he carefully pulls you down to lay out in the grass with him. 

Wincing slightly when the change in position makes him feel even bigger to the point of real discomfort, you let him tug you back against his front while your topmost leg stays awkwardly bent in the air until he reaches down to grab under the knee. Shoving your pants over the foot to allow you your full range of motion again, he smoothly guides it around to brace over his hip to keep your legs comfortably spread until the two of you could eventually separate. His tail wagging affectionately against the ground, Gorou then slides his hand around to idly knead at your breasts where they were spilling out of your top, pressing his face tight into your shoulder as if he couldn’t seem to get close enough to you. 

And still, he just keeps cumming, one healthy squirt after another until you can feel the internal pressure pushing in on your guts. Moaning softly now, you reach down to feel over your stomach and the petite bump there caused by all the semen sloshing around inside you. It’s so reminiscent of what it might feel like to be heavy with his child, especially when coupled with the active process of being bred as you were, that it soon has you sensitively shuddering on his cock. 

Oh, you were going to cum again.  

Whimpering a desperate little sound into the air, you reach further down to touch your cunt, feeling how stuffed full and spread out it is with him still wedged inside you like this. Locating your clit, you start to rub it with the savory grind of your fingers as Gorou scoots his pelvis somehow even closer to yours, whimpering a needy groan while he does it. 

“I’m sorry,” He whispers into your shoulder, his pointy ears folded almost completely down over his head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

You’re not entirely sure what it is he’s apologizing for at first, much too intoxicated on the dizzying cocktail of endorphins and pheromones coming off him that you’re not exactly thinking straight either. But then you feel his hips give a shuddering twitch and he grinds into you with a slow motion thrust. He still can’t go anywhere with his knot keeping him in place but he can put more of that delicious pressure on your cunt while he impotently humps at you, creating a wet little suction sound between your thighs. 

Head positively spinning at the total onslaught to all of your senses, you let your head drunkenly roll back in the grass, fingers working over your clit more quickly now. At the same time his tail curls up between his legs to possessively lay across your inner thigh, tickling you just ever so slightly as you stare up at the full moon in a daze. 

Yes, the two of you were certainly going to have to remember to thank Her Excellency for all her hard work clearing out the monsters on Watatsumi.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[t1oui]

bro at this point i see both sides of the jegulus argument, bc both sides (i specifically mean the people on both sides being aggressive w each other) need to grow up.

if you’re giving someone death threats for shipping jegulus… good lord man what do i even say. i cannot imagine being so upset about someone’s FICTIONAL SHIP of FICTIONAL CHARACTERS that i tell them to DIE. yk that sometimes, if someone hears it enough, it’ll actually happen? if your response to that is “good, their ship was trash” there is genuinely something wrong there.

but at the same time, i can’t imagine calling someone HOMOPHOBIC just for disliking jegulus. like, yeah, if you’re being called a fag or something for liking jegulus and it’s meant in a hostile way, fuck that. but simply NOT LIKING jegulus/wolfstar/what have you is in no way homophobic. babe it’s called having a preference.

are there ships out there i hate? yes. are there ship dynamics as a whole i despise and think are gross? YES. but you know what i do? i don’t interact, i don’t view content, and i don’t get mad! what happened to ship and let ship?

now, before anyone says “but what about mistagging” yes that is a big problem, and it’s really fucking annoying. ik not everybody is going to listen, but hey: if you’re making a post about jegulus, tag jegulus. if you’re making a post about wolfstar, tag wolfstar. jily? tag jily. if you’re making a post about jegulus and tag jily, you do not understand the point of tags. it doesn’t get you more reach, it just annoys people and causes even more hostility between parts of the fandom.

back to the point from earlier, i have also seen a lot of people calling jegulus shippers/slytherin skittles fans misogynists, racists, fascists, etc. that is absolutely bonkers to me. what happened to headcanon and let headcanon? this is the MARAUDERS FANDOM, something you say/do is going to be made up bc we barely have anything to go off of. let people make characters for themselves and write them as they want, and if you don’t like it, DON’T INTERACT. DON’T HATE. you’re not changing anyone’s mind when you send them a message threatening them for liking something that ISN’T ACTUALLY HARMING ANYONE.

yeah, that’s right: shipping jegulus, writing about the skittles, giving them depth? that isn’t actually hurting anybody. you know what does hurt people? telling them to kill themselves.

i’ve also seen an uptick in people being like “jegulus is just jeverus”/“just write jeverus” and “if you can say jegulus happened you can’t deny/hate on snily” and my honest opinions are… ok. i don’t think jegulus and jeverus are the exact same, but i’m not going to hate on either ship, nor will i hate on snily! but more importantly, I’M NOT GOING TO HATE ON SNILY & JEVERUS SHIPPERS. yk why? bc i’m not a hypocrite.

ship and let ship, people. it’s really not that hard. as a multishipper who follows this rule, i have found myself having a very good time in this fandom! i hope we can cut down on hostility soon, bc really, who is it helping? nobody comes out of an argument about FICTIONAL CHARACTERS KISSING happy. if yall really can’t get along, just don’t interact.

and, for the love of god, tag your posts accurately.

[ladykailitha]

Can Anybody See Me? Part 3

Holy hell, guys. Seriously, I love you all. And just seeing the sheer amount of LOVE this story is getting makes me so happy.

Tag list of 50 has now been filled. Any other requests for tagging will be denied. I’m sorry.

Edit: Also if you saw the title as something else? No, no you didn’t. And any reblogs you see with anyone instead of anybody are a figment of your imagination. (*thuds head on laptop* I have the title right on here...in my file *wails*)

Part 1 Part 2

*

Eddie was wrong. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, he was wrong and that was uncomfortable. On the other it meant that whatever was going on with Steve he didn’t care about his reputation anymore and that was always a good thing.

He had walked out of the school doors to the parking lot after school to see a Steve Harrington leaning against his van, just like yesterday.

“Harrington,” Eddie said, “this is a surprise.”

Steve ducked his head. “If you don’t want me to be here, I can leave.”

Eddie held up his hands. “Whoa, whoa there. I didn’t say that. I’m just surprised you took me up on the offer is all. Last time I checked your lot doesn’t throw in with mine.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged. “It does now. Now that I don’t have anyone else.”

Eddie’s eyes widened and he cocked his head. “I thought you and Nancy Wheeler were hot and heavy.”

The very idea of the two of them made him gag. Hetros. Freaking insane, man.

“We broke up on Halloween,” Steve murmured.

Eddie blinked. He had been at that party. To sell, of course, he hadn’t been invited. Had even seen Wheeler storm off, but he really hadn’t thought much about it.

“What bridges haven’t you burned?” he asked in all seriousness.

“My kids,” Steve said. “I’d do anything for them.”

“Okay, that’s going to have to take some explanation,” Eddie said, shoving his hands in his back pockets.

Steve looked around the van and gulped. “Can we take this somewhere else?”

Eddie looked over and saw Nancy and some other guy being all cutesy. “Yeah. Come on, hop in. I’ll bring back later to pick up your car when the lot’s no longer crawling with people who want to do you in.”

Steve sighed in relief, his body fulling relaxing for the first time since Eddie started this journey. He moved around to the other side of the van and got in once Eddie unlocked the door.

“Where to, my liege?” Eddie asked with a grin.

“Is the quarry okay?” Steve asked shyly.

Eddie’s grin softened to a smile. “Sure thing, pretty boy.” He started the van and pulled out on to the open road, leaving behind the messy turmoil that was high school.

They made it out to quarry and Eddie climbed up on the top of his van. Steve looked up at him in amazement.

“Uh, how am I supposed to get up there?” Steve asked.

Eddie leaned over the side and held out his hand. “Grab hold.”

Steve looked at it a moment and then back up at Eddie. He looked into those doe brown eyes and sighed. He planted one foot against the side of the van and then took Eddie’s hand.

And was promptly vaulted to the top of the van.

“Holy shit!” Steve said once he was settled next to Eddie. “You’re strong.”

Eddie laughed. “It comes from all the lugging equipment around for my band. And helping out with stage crew.”

“Wow, you have a band?” Steve asked.

Eddie nodded. “Corroded Coffin. It’s a metal band, we play at the Hideout every week.”

Steve bit his lip. “I don’t know much about metal. I tend to go for alt rock bands like Oingo Boingo, Depeche Mode, REM, Tears for Fears...I bet that was a load of gibberish for you.”

Eddie shook his head. “I’m familiar with a couple of them,” he admitted. “Not my thing. But I would have pegged you for a pop vibe.”

Steve scoffed. “I have some taste, man.”

Eddie laughed. “I’d beg to differ, but sure. You do you, dude.”

Steve bumped Eddie’s shoulder. “Go on, then. Impress me with your metal bands, since mine are such shit.”

“My favorite is Metalica,” Eddie said, bumping Steve back. “But I like Mercyful Fate, Dio, Poison.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “And I thought my bands had weird names.”

“What the hell is a Depeche Mode anyway?” Eddie fired back.

“What is a Metalica?” Steve replied.

Eddie opened his mouth, but no sound came out. “All right, you got me there.”

“I was talking to Mrs Hall today about my schedule,” Steve said, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them. “I have to drop basketball and baseball. It’s too late to drop swimming, but I talked to Coach Burton and he said I should be cleared for competition I just have to see the swimming board’s doctor for final confirmation.”

“So suddenly you have two classes opened up?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, my last two,” Steve mumbled into his knees. He lifted his head with a sigh. “She won’t let me just drop them and not pick up new classes even though the semester half way through.”

“So you thought about what to fill those slots with?”

“She gave me a list of options,” Steve grumbled and dug the paper out of his pocket. He handed it to Eddie.

Eddie looked over the options. “Debate, would double as extra English credit...” he mumbled reading what Mrs Hall had wrote. “Can’t see you doing that one, if I’m honest.”

Steve shook his head. “Me either. I know it’s not just arguing. But I know they can get heated. I don’t need complete strangers yelling at me when I get that enough at home.”

Eddie nodded. “Choir. Can you sing?”

Steve blushed. “Yeah, actually. But I’ve never wanted to join the choir.”

Eddie frowned. “Why not?”

Steve cleared his throat and looked away. “My vocal coach said that I don’t blend well and am very loud.”

Eddie bumped into Steve’s shoulder. “Soloist only, then?”

Steve nodded.

“Sounds like you’d be great at metal singing,” he continued. “Very loud and very in your face.”

Steve laughed. “Whatever you say, man. But no, choir is out.”

Eddie looked back at the list. “Machine work?”

Steve shook his head. “My dad would kill me.”

“Too blue collar for your dad?” he asked. Steve nodded. “I gotcha.”

“Stage crew,” Eddie continued.

Steve sighed. “I thought about that one, but like with the machine work it’s too ‘blue collar’ for my dad. Plus with my concussion, I’m pretty sure either option would be out.”

Eddie cocked his head and clicked his tongue. “Fair enough.” He looked over the list. “Pottery?”

Steve laughed. “Sure, why not? That’s one.”

Eddie nodded. He mentally crossed out all the classes that were seventh period, focusing only on the class that were eighth.

“Hmm...” he murmured pursing his lips. “Looks like what you’ve got left is geology and drama.”

Steve reared his head back. “What the hell is geology?”

Eddie shook his head. “I have no idea, but it’s obviously a science-y thing.”

Steve let out a bitter laugh. “I guess it’s pottery and drama.” He buried his face in his knees again. “I know my reputation is already in tatters but fuck those kids in those classes are going to tear me to pieces.”

Eddie blinked. The mystery that was Steve Harrington was like following a rabbit down a hole, and coming up to Wonderland. “You’re more concerned that they’re going to make fun of you then you are of your old friends making fun of you?”

Steve lifted his head. “Well sure. I know Tommy and them are going to make fun of me even if I stayed on both teams. That’s a given. They’ve got King Billy to follow now and they’re gonna get vicious with it. But no, the real problem comes from the art geeks coming for me because I have invaded their space.”

Eddie almost brought up the drawing class Steve was already in, but wisely kept his mouth shut. He shrugged. “So tell them truth. Tell them you had course correct because of a concussion. Be honest and defer to them in all things.”

“I’m also going to be the only senior in those classes, man,” Steve groused.

Eddie cocked his head. “Yeah, probably. But what else have you got?”

Steve’s shoulders slumped. “Nothing.”

They lapsed into silence. Just sitting there for awhile looking out over the quarry.

After some time, Eddie bumped Steve’s shoulder again. “So you want to tell me about ‘your kids’?”

Steve frowned.

“Burned bridges, people who haven’t given up on Steve Harrington?” Eddie prompted.

Steve lit up. “Oh yeah. Sorry, man, it’s just the...” he pointed to his face. Eddie nodded. “I still don’t know how I got roped into dealing with these assholes, but yeah. There are six of them now. Started with Dustin Henderson. Smart kid, smarter than most adults I know. Then it expanded to his friends, which includes the little brothers of my ex and her new boyfriend, Jonathan Byers, and of course Lucas Sinclair. And then I picked up El or Jane. I’m not sure which one she prefers, most people call her El though. And then there’s Max.”

“Five boys and a girl?” Eddie asked, his face twisting awkwardly. “Congrats?”

Steve laughed. “Max is short for Maxine. But don’t you dare call her that.”

Eddie blinked. “Max Mayfield? As in Billy Hargrove’s step-sister?”

Steve tilted his head back. “Yeah...but I don’t think I could separate her from the group now if I tried. And besides, she’d kick my ass.”

“You are an enigma wrapped in a mystery, man,” Eddie said.

Steve looked over at him. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6  Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17 Part 18  Part 19  Part 20  Part 21

Tag List: @evix-syne666 @renaissan-vvitch @deadlydodos @scarletzgo @messrs-weasley @kodaik97 @thedragonsaunt @butterflysandpeppermint @gregre369 @nelotegreitic @sundead @artiststarme @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @thing-a-ling @anaibis @garden-of-gay @matchingbatbites @spectrum-spectre @winterbuckwild @steve-the-hairrington @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @babyblender @cursedfoxteeth @novelnovella @throwbackthrowaway @strangersteddierthings @shrimply-a-menace @emly03

[dotthings]

Some tea from Richard Speight, Jr. about filming Cas’s testament scene has surfaced from DLC6. [x]

nothing cut from script to screen but they added things, such as Cas having to paint the sigil on the door and leaving the bloody hand print on Dean’s shoulder [my note: wbk about the additions during filming. There's still the matter of the spanish dub because the latam dubbing team felt a verbal I love you from Dean, made sense. And a few other lingering questions that have not actually been resolved and we may never know, but I'll go along. If Rich is happy with what was filmed and got to screen in the US, I'm glad. I love 15.18 either way. Rich's comments also goes to show how collaborative making tv is and how fluid the process can be.]

Rich said the scene wasn’t intended to be about Dean’s reciprocation, it was to give Cas his moment to speak his truth, to speak his love for Dean, and Cas didn’t expect an answer back, he just wanted to be heard, wanting Dean to know. [my note: makes sense to me, and it’s what I’ve thought about Cas pov. Cas pov not being the same as audience pov and what the story might need next and what Dean’s needs are. But for that scene, Cas feels complete. It also very much means the emotional story from Dean's side is not resolved. Dean wasn't given his chance yet, by creative design, perhaps because the only way they could get this greenlit at all is if it was only Cas who got to speak. We'll see what happens next.]

Rich saying because they did many takes of the scene with Dean’s emotional reactions, there are shots where Dean is crying more, or crying less. Editing put together different angles from different takes. [my note: the irony that naysayers are already trying to weaponize this to shut down the idea that anything got cut when per Rich himself, the facts on the ground are that the full range of Jensen’s acting for Dean’s response got reduced. No shade on Rich. But let's not erase or deny what was going on with Jensen's acting and how Jensen gave 110% and what wound up on screen was about 80% of whatever work Jensen did. Dean wept more than we saw, even before Dean was on the dungeon floor sobbing. Jensen’s performance as it stands is beautiful and powerful and full of emotion. It has taken an inordinate amount of hate and erasure, which is 100% cynical concern trolling to deny Dean’s feelings for Cas. More shots of Dean crying openly wouldn’t stop it, there’s no excuse for those responses. What’s there is loud enough. Only the most willfully cynical gaze could deny the love and anguish Dean showed.]

Rich said the parallel for John and Mary’s confession in TW 1x07 to 15x18 is a “coincidence” yet went on to talk about the trope of confessing love in a life or death situation and cited Leia and Han Solo among others [my note: it was also used again by an ep Rich recently directed in another piece of media I won’t say so I don’t spoil it. Also I’m laughing about how it seems he answered this. Total coincidence!! And spn 15.18 is like TW 1x07 is like Han and Leia and love confessions in dire situations is a common (romantic) trope. Pls, if anybody is taking away from this some kind of shutdown on creative recognition of the Destiel implications of it all, I don’t even want to know, I’ve had my fill of poor comprehension skills, poor critical thinking, and poor media literacy, oh my god]

Rich saying he was glad Cas’s words meant a lot to queer fans and that he feels it was important and a “bold” move that Bobo and Misha fought for. <3

So that's confirmation from director now, to add to writer intention, both actors, and an EP who greenlight Bobo's pitch for Cas’s testament as romantic. That is canon. That is a lock.

Cas's testament started out carefully padded into an “open to interpretation” zone. We have watched it be eased out of it and into the open.

I’m pleased it's openly acknowledged for what it is...and what I knew it was when the ep aired. I did expect it would be eventually, and would take some time. I’m glad it's here now.

As always, my appreciation for the work Rich, Bobo, Jensen, Misha did on 15.18 <333

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Liminal (RL!Mia Winters x MC/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil 8/Resident Lover Genre: Fluff and angst and fluff and angst Rating: Idk T? for blood. kind of. Warnings: Major character death, major spoilers (mainly implied) for Resident Lover, minor violence (not in detail) Summary: Mia's memories layer over each other, nineteen lives and hundreds of different loops, confusing and muddling her perception of the present. There is only one constant: Love. Notes: Less of a series of scenes and more like a lot of musing, with a tiny, tiny "scene" at the end. Most of the Mia/MC vibes are implied (referenced past fwb situation, but it's implied that they had feelings beyond that). References to the MC dating a few of the other characters because loops.

She doesn’t intentionally seek the memories out, doesn’t chase the heart-killer of nostalgia, the wretched thing hiding rot behind a shiny facade. But neither does she spend any effort to avoid the trappings of the past. When the moments come, when deja vu greets her, Mia only ever lets it wash over her. Peacefully. Hauntingly. After this many lives, it is the easiest lesson to heed.

Sometimes the memories come with a smile, a soft exhale that flows into a snicker. The first time she watches you on stage, pouring your heart out as Romeo, she can’t help but remember having to help you cram for your Language Arts final. Recalls the way your lips pouted after a particularly exasperated sigh; she can trace the mental image of the way those lips curled back into a smile at one of her dumb jokes. It’s the joke itself she can’t remember. A jab at Shakespeare, probably, the man an easy choice of target.

There’s a moment (it repeats, by God it repeats, a dozen times over the loops, every instance layered on top of the last) where she sits next to you on a couch meant for three. Instinct makes her legs twitch, yearning to prop her feet up on your lap, not letting anybody sit between you. Instead, she suppresses a smile, and watches as one of your roommates all but sits on top of you. It doesn’t matter which one; in Mia’s eyes, they’re both better than Miranda, if only in this moment, for this purpose.

Other memories make her breath hitch in her throat, words stuck to the sides of her mouth like cotton, another stone to sink in her stomach. These are the ones that blend together the most, twisting further with every loop, muddling her perception of which life she’s in. Most come by accident, echoing the way she’s met you before. A bump in the hallway, papers scattering, both crouching down to pick everything up. Sudden rainfall making you scramble to share an umbrella, going back and forth between who gets most of the cover. Teaming up to take down the reigning asshole at whatever drinking game the campus is currently obsessed with.

“You look familiar- have we met before?” You’ll ask, once in a blue moon of a loop, except this time it’s more than reuniting with a childhood friend. This time it’s reaching out to pluck the heartstrings of your soulmate. One of your soulmates, that is. Mia’s response only ever comes with unearned confidence, mirth dancing on her tongue, deflecting, deflecting, denying- a hint of flirting, maybe, when she can afford it. Getting you to blush had been a favorite pastime of hers, once, twice, many times. Even if it never extended into anything more official than sharing a bed.

Seeing you at parties makes her feel like so little has changed. Always the same drink of choice, always too readily egged on by friends. If she squinted, it would be easy to put herself in Daniela’s place at your side, and so Mia never lets her gaze linger for too long. When the cups get too deep for you, it’s far too easy to stop herself from intervening. She never did before. Even when she should have. Those are the timelines where Angie does more for you than Mia’s past self could ever dream of.

It almost makes up for the time she finds your body crumpled in front of the doll’s car, crimson splashed across the bumper. She stares, only for a moment, wondering when she stopped feeling anything at the sight of your corpse. Then she catches a glimpse of three familiar fanatics in the crowd, makes note of the way their horror differs from those around them. Figures their attempts at keeping you out of the spotlight would go too far, eventually. Figures that the real nostalgia greets her fingers as they wrap around the handle of her knife. Revenge was an old friend- just one rarely visited these days.

Hard for her to thrive on revenge when she’s got the bloodiest hands of them all. Strange how the feelings shifted over time, guilt warping into freeing comfort. The first time she killed you, the first time she brought on a new loop across a knife’s edge, she almost threw up. Stared at the deep cuts and lost herself in the memory of finding Miranda cradling your lifeless body, the end of your past incarnation. It made her stomach churn, made her heart drop, and fully solidified her need to make sure the loop would meet a perfect end (the only way to guarantee you’d never meet that fate again).

By now, the blood flows freely, remorse a trinket left forgotten on dusty shelves. It’s for the best. Better her than someone else, better for her to soak your bond in blood than to let it rot in the open. Ending the loop fills her with relief, with joy, as she invokes her promise to give you not just a happy ending, but the right one. She loses track of how many times she’s knocked you down or out, how many loops she’s filled with blood, how many times she’s allowed you the comfort of bleeding out in her arms.

Ironic, then, that you never accuse her of murdering you, only someone far less important. More ironic yet that the finger of blame forces her to recall the life that bound your souls together. But that memory doesn’t perfectly layer over the present, when she’s not burning by your side, dying with your name on her lips. The way you look at her almost makes her miss the flames (the next moment she focuses on has your hands touch in passing, knuckles brushing up against each other, and she feels an entirely different kind of fire).

There are times where she wonders how much you remember. Not consciously, not truly, but which memories are etched into your soul itself. Now those are the moments that test her resolve, that tempt her to chain herself to pursuing the past the same way that Miranda does. All it takes to make her heart stop is for you to tilt your head to the side, eyes not quite narrowed, a sly smile paired with a twinkle in your eye. Something about that expression always lets her know you’re on the verge of remembering something. Half of the time you’ll follow it up with a carefully worded question, never sure if Mia feels the same deja vu that you do.

Your timing isn’t always perfect; she can’t blame you, not with the way her memories layer over each other, fighting to see which controls her present.

One hand in her pocket, clutching her switchblade, the other placed gently on your shoulder. Now that the election is over (again. how many times have you won? why do you never walk away, even when Bela begs you?), she needs to remove you. But your eyes light up as soon as she touches you. Head tilt? Check. Sly smile? Check. You should be scared by the way she’s looking at you, by the way she has you cornered on the balcony, but somehow your mind has skipped past the familiar danger and right into the familiar flirting. Aren’t you supposed to be in love with Bela this time around?

“Care to dance?” You ask, offering your hand. How long has it been since the two of you danced?... Not since Miranda refused to go with you, a lifetime or two or five ago, long before the loop. Mia had been the one to ask you then. Her expression now must mirror what yours had been that day. Surprise, amusement, and adoration. Of course she agrees.

By the time Bela interrupts, the way she does in too many loops, Mia is grateful. It had been hard enough to avoid kissing you in that past life, it was almost impossible now. Still, the Dimitrescu stands frozen for a moment, her own layered memories not finding any match for the sight. She’s supposed to be tackling Mia, knocking her off the balcony, body breaking in the bushes below. Neither of them move, trying to calculate a route to familiar endings.

Mia misjudges her decision, ruins the feelings, guarantees that you’ll harbor a hesitance to dance with her for all loops and lives to follow. She holds your hand, she holds her knife. She holds your hand, she takes your life. For once, Bela is the one who’s two steps behind, her shove coming too late, even if it still carries Mia off of the ledge.

Death never takes either of you for terribly long. Miranda pulls back the fog of limbo, breaks the rules, makes the void spit you both back out, resetting the loop. One wakes up with memories of everything, the other with only impressions. Lingering pieces of nineteen strange dreams, and a hundred futures cycling over one another with interlocking grooves, the only set pattern being love and love and wretched, bloody love. Mia doesn’t chase the nostalgia, doesn’t seek out the ways she knows will lead to love, to the familiar warmth of your heart next to hers. Why would she? All roads lead back to you.

[thewertsearch]

JADE: […] you remember the guy who destroyed prospit? JADESPRITE: you want me to fight him??? JADESPRITE: are you crazy? do i look like i am ready to fight anybody???????

I don't know what Jade thought was going to happen when she self-prototyped, but I doubt she was expecting an argument.

Maybe she wanted to possess Jadesprite's body in her sleep, and take the fight to Jack herself - or perhaps she assumed that Jadesprite would share her exact mental state, memories included, and thus automatically agree with her plan.

JADE: there is a lot at stake here! JADESPRITE: woof

JADE: i mean, dont you remember what this was all about? JADE: what you were working for… what WE were working for all those years before you died? JADE: remember what we saw in the clouds, or what the queen told us?

We knew Jade was a frequent visitor to Prospit, but it seems she was particularity close with the White Queen, who was probably the closest thing she had to a parental figure after Grandpa died.

Given her uniquely lonely upbringing, Jade might have spent more time on Prospit than any Player. No wonder she was over-reliant on Skaia's prophecies - she's probably seen thousands come true before her eyes.

JADE: how could you not remember john survived? JADE: we both saw him in a cloud! he was in his dream suit and awake, reading our letter! [...] JADESPRITE: it was all a lie jade. what we saw in the clouds and all that. none of it meant anything

“None of it means anything” is not a particularly encouraging thing to hear from a Sburb Sprite.

I’m starting to wonder if Jadesprite’s mental state is due to more than just trauma and godhood. Has she learned some uncomfortable truths about her existence, out there in the afterlife?

JADE: i just dont know what to think JADE: i guess you are part of me, and you are who i was when i slept JADE: but it makes me sad to think i would act like this

However much Jade might want to deny it, Jadesprite represents a real part of her personality, and she’s not exactly enjoying this look in the mirror. Karkat can relate.

[st-kitten]

707 pt.3

← previous chapter christmas special

A/N: um... i've got two small special effects for this part, sooooo see if u can use them at the right moment :")

WARNINGS: trauma, implied death by accident, a good cry honestly, violence (intended IM A GIRLS GIRL BUT SOME THINGS ARE OKA-), that shlong, sloppenheimer (kidding: oral sex, both receiving), age gap (newsflash 😒) (reader is obv 20+ and toji is idk 38?)

"can we call y/n? for cake?" asked megumi.

"i'm not sure she wants to see anybody today, kid," replied a distressed toji

"but it's my birthday..."

toji couldn't resist megumi's puppy eyes. but he figured that if there was anyone you'd listen to, it would be him. it was worth a try.

both of them stepped out of their apartment, hearing music coming from your apartment. toji felt his breath returning to his lungs. music meant you were okay. or at least alive. your singing got clearer as the two of them stood outside your door. he tried knocking but it was left unanswered. toji wondered whether it was just a recording playing, so he pressed his ear on the door. no, that's definitely her. open the fucking door, y/n!

all toji had as a sign that you were inside were was you were singing.

[mention: easy on me, by adele, again for the lyrics ft.]

"i know there is hope in these waters..." is she crying?

"but I can't bring myself to swim, when i am drowning in this silence..." your voice croaked in the end. she's definitely crying. what the fuck did i do...

toji looked around the lobby. seeing it empty, he grabbed your doorknob and pressed hard on it, tearing it apart, breaking it. he gave it to megumi. he barged inside your barely lit, dark living room, only to find you sitting on the floor, head against the sofa, looking at the ceiling. broken glasses and torn papers surrounded you as you sang at the top of your lungs, voice overcome with some kind of pain that toji couldn't understand, but just feel.

"you can't deny how hard I've tried i changed who I was to put you both first but now I give up..."

"i was still a child..."

"so go eas-" hearing the door blast open, you stopped, whipping your head in its direction.

you were about to bark at toji when you saw the look on his face. fear... then you saw megumi, holding your doorknob, standing behind his father.

toji saw your grief-stricken face. the haunting melody of whatever heart-wrenching song you were singing still echoed in his ears, reaching out from the walls like a desperate cry for help. your disheveled hair clung to your face, a stark contrast to the carefree spirit that used to reside next door.

"w-what are you d-"

"what happened?"

toji treaded carefully around the broken glass, telling megumi to wait where he stood. he knelt down beside you, pushing away the small shards.

you sat there, too horrified to say anything. why is he here? a small shaky breath left your mouth, the rest bubbling up like lava, ready to erupt.

"i don't know what i did baby, but i'm sorr-" toji's apology went unheard as tears streamed down your face and a cry tore through the air like a wounded animal's howl. it was guttural, unrestrained, and laced with a pain so visceral that toji felt it in his bones. the sound wasn't pretty; it was raw and unfiltered, like the ugly side of life laid bare for anyone in earshot.

without a second thought, toji enveloped you in a tight embrace, pulling your trembling shoulders into him. he sat on the floor next to you, one leg folded down and the other tucked to his chest. he felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine as you sobbed into him.

"it's okay..." was all he could say. even he knew that it wasn't about fixing everything; it was about being there in whatever storm was raining down on you. he looked at megumi, unsure about how his son would take seeing you break down. the child stood a silent witness to all of it, his eyes glistening slightly.

"why is it okay?" you muttered. "for parents to be your first bullies..."

"what... stopped them," you sniffled, "from just listening to me?"

toji held onto every word that came out of your mouth. a part of him was relieved that this wasn't about him.

"i didn't want a fucking cake... i didn't want a cake, i just wanted them..." your breath hitched.

"you spend half of your life raising a child in the cruelest way... your last words to each other end up being an argument and... your last words to me were nothing..."

toji felt a knot in his stomach. he watched megumi leave and go back to their apartment. he was torn between his kid, disturbed on the eve of his birthday and the woman he was cradling, on her birthday...

as the echoes of your cry faded, they left behind a heavy, oppressive silence. only your shaky breath could be heard. he sat beside you, his eyes searching for the right words as you wiped away the tears that had traced down your cheeks.

"birthdays are supposed to be happy, ya know..." he whispered to you, as gently as he could. as if the wrong words would shatter you.

"they're also supposed to be spent with family apparently..." you said, gritting your teeth. toji didn't know what to say... he wanted so desperately to talk to her. but how do you even say something at a time like that?

megumi's small steps echoed in your living room. both of you looked at him. you felt like bawling your eyes out and toji simply smiled at his son.

megumi carried a small plate with a loaf of bread sitting atop, two tiny candles buried in it, their flames flickering in the dark room. he stood in front of you, holding out the plate to you with his tiny hands.

you held the plate, placing your hands on his. you glanced at the clock, which was seconds away from midnight. you blew one candle, covering the other with your palm. and when the clock struck 12, megumi blew the other candle out.

"happy birthday, gumi," you put the plate down and hugged him. he wrapped his tiny hands around you, resting his head on your shoulder. "happy birthday, y/n," he said softly.

hours passed by as you talked to toji about your unforeseen disappearance. megumi had fallen asleep in your lap and you stroked his head. you told him about your 13th birthday, your parents death in a car crash... you left some things off the conversation. oh, how toji felt each word you said. he knew how ruthless families could be. his own was never kind to him. he told you about his scar in return, and how he felt insecure about it.

"it's kinda hot, if you ask me." seemed like you were back to being your normal self.

toji smirked. "i know. you wouldn't stop kissing it last night."

you smacked his chest with the back of your hand. but it brought you two to that conversation. toji wanted it off his chest.

"i like ya."

you looked at him, taking a shallow breath.

"not just 'cause we made out yesterday. i'm the worst person to talk about feelings and shit to, but... i got 'em. for you." toji was done with it. he didn't want to stretch it any further. not after the day you'd had.

you opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off, "sit with it for a while. ya don't need to answer me right now."

toji picked megumi up from your lap, carrying him in his arms. he pressed a soft, patient kiss to your lips. "belated happy birthday," he said against your lips, got up and left, leaving a large hole in your door.

[ambient song y/n might vibe to: jeene mein aaye maza, by ankur tiwari]

you wandered aimlessly in the convenience store, picking up things and putting them back where they didn't belong. you circled the whole store thrice until the cashier asked you if something was wrong. paying for cheap beer and rice crackers you didn't even want, you left the store.

you walked home in the evening, head in the clouds. (a cloud shaped like toji)

he liked you. his words hammered in your mind like construction workers at the crack of dawn. girls usually felt giddy after hearing a boy confess to them. the fuck were you feeling? and why was it some kind of diarrhoea? you mind went back to how you'd kissed and how good it felt. there was no doubt that you found him attractive. you liked spending time with him. but did you like him? what even would you do if you did? date him? be his girlfriend? mother to his child? how did one go about dating an older man? if anything, he'd end up with another child.

you walked by a park, watching children playing (mostly falling), building sandcastles in the pit (and falling on them), running around chasing nothing (and falling), scurrying into their parents' arms (guess what).

did you want to be that to megumi? because being with toji meant being with megumi and being responsible for him.

you sat down on the pavement, sipping on beer that tasted like toothpaste, pondering over what kind of life you'd build for yourself. you were not interested in hook up culture. committed relationships were made to sound like life imprisonment sentences. the titles didn't apply to you and especially him. what would being with toji even look like? once your little quinn project comes to an end, what then? would he grab the cash and bolt? would he stay? would he stay anyway?

the more you sat and thought about it, the more things blurred. you thought it best not to overthink it. he did tell you to not rush an answer. but you were not the most patient of all people. the one thing you disliked was how things get awkward every time someone confesses their feelings out of the blue and the other has to be the dealbreaker.

you decided to do the rest of the thinking at home. the city was twinkling with christmas lights and decorations. it was always a wonderful sight to see. it made you want to travel to a quaint countryside only to realise your long lost love for the holiday season and family values as you broke into song about reuniting with your childh-yes, that hallmark movie.

when you entered through the gate to your building, you spotted megumi near the postboxes. a very uncomfortable megumi... in the arms of a woman you'd never seen. she looked rich. fur coat, pradas, sunglasses that covered her whole face like a covid shield. megumi so didn't want to be held like that. your gaze fell on toji, who... drumroll... had the exact same expression as his kid. as you walked in that direction you could hear the conversation.

"he likes me, don't you think?" PLEASE that's what rich people sound like?

"just put him down," toji sighed.

"no, i'm gonna steal him!!!" she giggled, shoving her face into megumi. he flinched and pushed himself away from her.

"aww, he's so playful... toji, why don't you invite me over for a drink?"

megumi wiggled like a worm in her arms, trying to escape her grip. he twisted like a pretzel until she had to put him down. but she held onto his hand tightly. that didn't go unnoticed by toji who was growing angrier every passing minute.

"come on... it'll be fun," she sneered.

"i gotta look after my kid." that was all he said.

"i'm sure he won't mind... right meggy? you'll let daddy and i play for a while, right?" megumi tried to pry her hands off, but she tugged at him harshly.

suddenly, all the diarrhoea made sense. the blur cleared. your eyes narrowed as you observed the audacious scene unfolding before you. something in your head snapped and you took purposeful steps towards her, and offensive gaze locked, devoid of any remorse.

swatting her hand off of megumi's, you put the kid behind you protectively. in a millisecond, your hand swung with conscious thought, as you smashed the beer bottle on her head. the glass shattered on her scalp, cutting through the background noise like a warning shot.

"not. your. kid."

caught between shock and appreciation for your sudden defence, toji covered his curled mouth with his palm. he looked at megumi, who stood behind you, holding the ends of your jacket. the kid looked back at his father, smirking mischievously. toji turned his cackling laughter into an asthmatic cough.

the woman couldn't take a hint even when it hit her in the skull.

"who do you think you are?"

"how dare you hit me? do you know who i am?"

"i'm talking to you!!! hello!!!??"

you let her run her mouth. you weren't interested in what she had to say. you looked down at megumi. you could see the faint red strip that circled his wrist. you knew how manipulative it was to use toji's kid as a means to get to him. you already befell his threat. but you understood it all of a sudden.

the honest urge to protect your kid.

the woman eventually stomped and left, mouthing cuss words at passersby.

"so... care to explain what that was?" asked toji, folding his hands, looking at you with fascination.

"my answer," you said with a smile as you held megumi's little hand, rubbing the back of it with your thumb.

toji smirked proudly.

"what happened here?" asked the building watchman, who heard about the act of violence from others who witnessed it.

"nothing interesting,"

"they're saying you harassed a woman," he was quick to throw an accusing glance at toji.

"nonsense! just some personal drama," you interrupted. "that's the father, this is his son."

"and that's the unholy spirit..." toji mumbled to the guard, earning a death glare from you.

the three of you walked towards the elevator. you handed megumi the rice crackers you bought and he wasted no time in digging in. toji put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer as he whispered in your ear, "what does a fella like me have to do to see you smash another bottle again?"

"flirt with another woman and i'll gladly smash one on your head."

toji's deep chuckle vibrated in your ear.

megumi dragged you inside their house to show you his new sketches. he'd really outdone himself. he'd also made his father hang all the small drawings on the christmas tree they had in their living room. toji was glad that he'd found something to occupy himself with. not that he didn't want to spend time with the kid, but seeing him not get overly attached to a single parent relieved the giant weight on his shoulders.

"mmm! gumi, i have a gift for you."

megumi trotted to you like a puppy, eyes twinkling like stars.

"you're gonna spoil him."

"correct."

you gave him a cd. "i wrote you a song." megumi clutched the cd like a prized trophy. he opened the case and showed his father the cd. you'd chased down your producer's sales guy to put one of megumi's sketches as the cd cover.

"when did you even have time to do this?"

"last night. and today morning."

"you didn't sleep?"

you looked away from him, perfectly expecting a fatherly scolding. instead, toji just chortled. he left megumi to listen to your song on a loop as the two of you went to your apartment. (sorry megs, but this is a toji x y/n)

you closed the door, swearing that the hole where your doorknob used to be was getting bigger by each minute. not a moment later, toji had his arms wrapped around you, his mouth on yours. you dropped the grocery bags on the floor and threw your hands around his neck. bumping into nearly every piece of furniture along the way, you sauntered into your room, lips glued to each other. he kissed you like it was the last thing he could do in the world and you kissed him like it was the first thing you wanted to do before anything else.

"mmm... hold on," toji pulled away momentarily and said, "promise me one thing."

"what?"

"you don't disappear when shit hits the fan. you come talk to me."

you felt guilt churn inside you, recalling how you'd left toji and megumi to wonder what 'they' had done wrong to make you go distant.

you nodded. "i promise."

toji held you in his arms for a while, taking a look at your face. he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and you winced.

"ow! careful, i just got my ear pierced."

toji raised his eyebrows. he pushed your hair aside and saw a helix piercing, the edge of your ear pink and slightly swollen.

"that looks like it hurt."

"oh, it did."

"then why'd ya get it?"

"i always get piercings on my birthday."

"why?" toji honestly didn't understand this form of self-harm.

"what can i say, buddy, i love getting stabbed..." you said plainly, backing away and took your shoes off.

toji snorted a laugh at your comment. "masochist."

"aww, big man uses big words now..." you said, keeping your shoes under your bed. toji simply slapped your ass.

"sadist."

"by the way, i added some background noises to our recording. it sounds so good!"

"oh? let's hear it then," said toji, sitting down on your bed. he was glad to see you be your usual confident self. last night had him tensed with worry. even though he wasn't the source of your pain, he couldn't imagine how lonely you must've felt spending your birthday crying as life wickedly toasted to your parent's death, scarring the one day you were supposed to own with pride.

you made him listen to some excerpts, but ended up talking over them anyway, excitedly telling him how smartly you had edited some things. he just watched you with a small smile. whenever you turned to face him, his eyes fell on your piercing. he counted how many you had. nine. marking nine years of an anniversary nobody would want to remember like this. four piercings on each ear and one in your nose. did you really need the pain to validate your broken heart? did it make you feel like you deserved it?

he dismissed those thoughts from his head. it was your decision. and you bore it like an ornament, and not a scar. plus, he now that he fully took your face in, he couldn't deny hot incredibly hot those piercings looked on you. the thought of you sitting through that and showing off your piercings made his stomach flip. seriously, how much more hot could you get?

as if to answer his question, your recording played in his ear, some scene at a party with your characters failing to keep their hands to themselves. his voice blended with yours like the perfect duet. the way you spoke, changing your tone, pitch, hell, even your little laugh to suit your character made him feral. he wanted to hear you more. but not for some recording. he wanted to hear you for himself.

the moment the recording ended, toji pounced on you, grabbing your neck, careful not to hurt your ear as he kissed you roughly. you gasped, but melted on the spot. you liked where this was going anyway. toji moved his lips along yours, nibbling at you mouth. he let you catch a breath, before shoving his tongue inside, only for it to hitch again.

he pushed you into your bed, immediately hovering over you. he let his hands run up and down your legs. you hummed under his touch. he felt you shuffle underneath. he pulled away for a moment to watch you sneak your phone out of the pocket, finger pressed on a red dot.

"you wanna give your fans a show, baby?" he murmured.

"nuh uh, this is for me," you panted.

toji smirked. "gotta make this good then..." he peppered kiss on your neck, sucking on your skin. he could smell that god awful coconut perfume. to ease the weight his humongous body dumped on you, he shoved his knee between your legs, hoisting himself over you properly. you practically moaned in his mouth at the feeling of his knee rubbing against you. you had no idea what to do with your hands, so you just let them stay on your stomach lifelessly.

toji broke the kiss once more, chuckling at the whine that escaped from your mouth.

"so needy..." he growled, taking his shirt off with one hand. your jaw hung open as you took him in. the way he towered you even when sitting on his knees made him seem almost... monstrous.

toji only it thought it fair to get rid of your clothes too. he held your waist and pulled you to him, hoisting you on his lap. he took your jacket off, throwing it on the floor.

"be careful with the shirt. it's vivienne westwood."

"strip then."

slowly, taking the sweet time of your life, you pulled the shirt off, turning it right side up and neatly folded it, placing it at the far end of your bed.

"you done, sweetie?" he cooed in your ear.

"done."

"lovely. put your hands to use." he had you folded under him, back on the bed, kisses getting rougher, wetter, messier. you clawed at his shoulder, back, neck, chest, every part of him that you could touch. he licked a particular spot just under your ear that made you mewl in pleasure. like a vampire, toji bit your neck, causing you to moan softly.

his free hand unclasped your bra and tossed it away.

"would it kill you to not throw my clothes here and there?"

"thought you liked it violent, baby..." he murmured in your ear, biting a hickey on your neck. he kept switching between kissing your lips and sucking at your neck while he played with your tits, squeezing them, pinching them, kneading them like dough. he was right. they did fit in his hands perfectly. he latched his mouth onto one, making you squirm under him.

toji was absorbing your body. he felt bold; bold to take what he wanted from you. well, what he wanted was you. your body, your hips, your mouth, all of it. he wanted to show you just how desirable you were to him.

the hand that roamed your waist slowly trailed down your cargo pants. you didn't even realise when he took them off, but it was good anyway. less is more.

at an agonisingly slow pace, the tips of his fingers teased you over your panties. toji took a look at you, covered in his marks, lips pink and swollen.

he chuckled, "just how many of these stupid panties do you have?"

"I FUCKING KNEW IT. PANTY THIEF!" you smacked his abs.

"they're mine now," toji murmured as back away, spreading your legs apart with his hands, grabbing at your thighs. he kissed your inner thigh languorously making his way down to your wet cunt. he took your panties off, once more putting them back in his pockets. he dipped two of is fingers inside slowly, as if he was learning about your body. he watched your every reaction, every quiver, every hitched breath as he took his time and prepped you for himself. he curled his fingers at an optimal spot and like a cat on heat, you mewled and your legs shut tight around his hand.

"uh uh uh, i need these legs wide open, darling." he knew how much you liked it when he said that. when you didn't spread them, he smacked a hard slap on your hip, causing you to gasp and giggle as you did as directed.

"don't be a brat."

"or what?"

toji didn't retort. instead, he dove straight into your cunt, painting your insides with long strokes with his tongue. he paired it with his forefinger running up and down, inside and out, pushing against your clit. hearing you whimper and pant just made him want to tease you. recording all those dirty audios with you had him gain a mind in the game. like an illusionist, his hands disappeared and he pulled away, making you pine for him.

"toji fushiguro, i will smash a bottle on your head if you ever take your mouth off me like that again..." god, you sounded so sexy.

"ya know... it makes my dick hard when you talk to me like that."

you crunched forward and grabbed his hair, pulling him back to your pussy. toji chuckled, resuming eating you out like a man starved for days.

"oh i bet it does," you said breathlessly, throwing a few more slurred taunts his way. toji extended his free hand and shoved two of his fingers in your mouth.

"put that mouth to use, brat." he groaned in pleasure feeling your tongue swirl around his fingers, sucking them, gently biting them whenever he lapped at your cunt the right away. even with his fingers stuffed in your mouth, he could hear your muffled moans loudly. he sped his pace, slipping his fingers in and out of you, lapping at your core. he felt you clench and he took it as an open invitation to increase the pressure. you let out a long, stretched moan as you gushed all over his chin.

"is this what you ladies call girl dinner?" toji took his fingers out of you, licking them and tasting you, smacking his lips.

you laughed, throwing your head back.

"ugh, shut up."

"make me," you commented, practically waltzing into the man's next plan for you. toji's hand wrapped around your throat as he pulled you up as if you weight nothing. he got off the bed, standing in front of you as you were on all fours.

"gladly," toji slid his pants and boxers down, freeing his hard-as-a-rock girth.

"this isn't fair, toji," you cried at the size of it.

"i know, baby..." he gripped your chin with his fingers, nearly crushing your jaw. you looked up at him and seeing you on your knees for him lit a fire within him.

playfully you licked his wet lip like a kitten...

"cute. but that's not gonna cut it, sweetheart."

"i'll have you know i won the popsicle eating contest in my college..."

toji chuckled, holding his cock out to your face and smacked it against your lips. "gonna keep me waitin'?"

you took his head in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it, letting the tip run between the faint slit. you bobbed your head a few times, adjusting to his length and width. you'd be grateful to have a jaw left by the time you've sucked him dry. you took his length in your, stroking what you couldn't. you felt his cock twitch and pulsate in your mouth.

"god, you're doing so well..." toji reached forward, accidentally thrusting more of his dick in your mouth, making you whimper. he picked up your phone, which had been recording every lewd sound you made and he held it by his hip. "you sound so... fucking perfect, baby... gagging over my dick like that."

he pushed your hair aside, gripping it tightly as he pushed your head further in, moaning at how good it felt to have you take damn nearly all of him.

"fuck... shit.... s' good" toji let a buffet of grunts and moans spill out of his mouth. first, because he you took him that well, and second because he wanted you to get off to his voice, just like he did to yours. he began thrusting into your mouth faster, feeling his release creeping its way up. had he known how easy it was for him to come just by getting a quick blowjob, he'd have put more work into the foreplay. but fuck, he loved every damn moment of it. how your mouth was wet and warm, how your pointed tongue knew just where to lick, how your cheeks hollowed to pull him in.

"keep going, baby... i'm almost there," he panted, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back, hips moving at a brutal pace. his mind went to you eating a popsicle for some reason and he laughed, paving the way for a guttural moan that rumbled through his mouth as he came into your mouth. you closed your eyes, letting the uncomfortable feeling pass away as you managed to swallow the barrel full of cum he just shot into your mouth.

toji pulled out, feeling euphoric. he was completely obsessed with you. he wanted to take your right there. he wanted to be inside you. fuck, he wanted to see how loud you could get for him.

a knock on your main door and a small voice calling out to toji snapped you back to your senses.

"what a cockblock," toji sighed.

you threw a pillow at him. "that's your adorable birthday boy you're talking about!"

toji changed back into his clothes, refusing to give you your panties back, earning another pillow to his face. he looked at you to make sure you still didn't have second thoughts about him. but there you were, effortlessly moving around the room, picking up the pieces of clothing he'd tossed here and there. he loved how much fun you had doing all these things with him. it made the experience twice as much worth it.

you changed into your pyjamas and led toji out of your bedroom.

"does it say 'juicy' on your ass?" he said, reading the glittery text on your pants.

"ya bet it does," you smacked your own ass, proud of your sense of fashion, no matter how ridiculous it was.

"gonna fuck that ass someday."

"fix my door first." you peeked through the hole in your door, looking at the top of megumi's hair.

you opened the door to see megumi standing in his pyjamas, holding his demon dog, yawning.

"awww, sorry for keeping your dad for so long."

megumi yawned again, nodding.

"she sang a song for me too, you know..." said toji, picking up his sleepy kid, giving you a wink. you kicked his ass, making him stagger out of your house.

"good night."

"good night..." you smiled at the two.

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊

TAGLIST: @kaininety2 @ruixrei @chicken-fifi @mrsfush1guro @szillx @queendessi24 @sillysillygoofygoose @shadowmoonlight0604

[13thedream]

Characters: (Lee) Sunday, (Ler) Kafka

a/n: this is based off of the Idea that Sunday joined the Stellaron Hunters. I have not done the most recent quest yet - only partially proofread, and my first fic, so do not make fun of it, please. But constructive criticism is encouraged

words: 1,5k

Sunday has had a headache all day today, and his eyes felt sore.

It was no doubt the fault of him staying up for most of the night tearfully, but he was sure that these people played a part in it.

They are unfamiliar; they hardly know him and he hardly knows them. And yet, here they are behaving as if he’d always been a part of the “family”. Arms slung over his shoulders, going out to places as well… Aren’t they meant to be an elite group, the feared and despised Stellaron Hunters? No doubt powerful, and yet, they had so much time on their hands to still be silly.

It is safe to say he is not used to such treatment. Relaxing, sitting back and doing nothing, having fun - yet he is neither relaxed or having fun. The thought of his sister laid heavy in his mind - the way she looked so tired on the television, and it tugged at his big brother instincts to sometimes see her wings not preened.

Sunday sighed quietly, his face buried in gloved hands as he leaned back against the sofa he sat on. He regrets now not bringing any of his books, or his journal; then again, he had to leave in such a rush, there simply was no time.

A tiny breeze fluttered the feathers of his left wing, and it twitched. He ignored it, groaning as he burdened himself with thoughts of his sister. What if she’s not feeding herself properly? What if she’s spending her nights crying?

Another breeze, another twitch.

Maybe she hates him. No- Robin would never, yet he found himself wishing she would. He hates himself so much, and he’s just pulling her down with him.

“...day.. Sunday.-” Something delicately traced down his wing, and Sunday would forever deny the startled, squeaky “eep!” He had let out. He whipped around, golden eyes wide, meeting the even and somewhat curious gaze of Kafka.

She was smirking; he felt his cheeks heat up at his own embarrassing reaction - and his damned wings were now curling around his cheeks too, as if he were some shy child hiding his face.

Clearing his throat, Sunday spoke, “..Good afternoon, Miss Kafka,” A polite greeting, choosing to move past what had just happened.

“Hey, angel,” she replied, that stupid smirk never leaving, and he felt his skin prick from the nickname. Angel? Audacious to call him anything other than his own name - yet, he held no power here, so he may as well accept it.

Kafka continued to speak casually, “I’ve been calling your name for a while. D’you wanna have dinner with us later?”

Sunday huffed quietly at the thought alone. Dinner with that barbaric swordsman, the moving suit of armor, a literal cat, and the girl who can’t put her phone down? Forget it. The most normally behaving person there would be Kafka, and that’s saying a lot.

“No.” Sunday grumbled, before clearing his throat once more and fixing himself, “...No, thank you. I will get my own.”

Kafka merely shrugged one shoulder, propping up her face on a hand as she observed him. When had she sat down beside him? Sunday met her gaze for a couple of seconds before glancing away, feathers puffing up. What does she still want?

“No problem. You seem tense,” the woman commented offhandedly, and he looked back out of politeness.

“How could I not be?” Sunday replied, tone cool and curt. Kafka shrugged again, raising one eyebrow as she observed him a moment longer.

“Fair point. But no one’s coming after you here, y’know?” She pointed out, and he huffed; of course he knew that. They’re in the middle of Xipe-Knows-What, in Xipe-Knows-Where.

“I appreciate the concern, but I’m more worried about the company here than anybody looking for me.” Sunday watched reproachfully as Kafka’s expression turned into one of amusement, as well as a mischievousness which had him tensing up further.

“Ah? How come? We’re a loving family here.” She replied, and they could both tell that she was just messing around now. They both knew why.

Sunday sighed, “Well, I don’t feel the slightest bit safe with that swordsman - constantly looking as though he'd strike me down if he had the chance. And that girl is a nuisance. It feels as though her entire personality is just, “Games this,” And “Hacking that,”.” He snorted out - and he felt himself lighten a bit at Kafka’s huffed out laugh.

“...Sam is most likely the most tolerable person,” Her smirk never left for the entire conversation - does this woman even know any other facial expressions..?

“And you are… Hm.” She looked even more smug than usual for a moment at his hesitance, and he grumbled out, “..Mysterious, I suppose. I dislike how unpredictable you get.”

Kafka was silent for a good long moment, just staring at him, before she chuckled, “Might I remind you, Birdie, that you are not so normal for yourself.”

She reached out again, while he was looking elsewhere, and dragged a finger down one of his wings lazily.

Sunday yelped.

His wing flapped, and he whipped around to face her again, cheeks on fire. “Would you please stop that?” He politely snapped, eyebrows furrowing.

She observed, he shifted, trying to cool down his cheeks.

“You’re ticklish,” Kafka finally mused out, tone thoughtful. Sunday sputtered, cheeks ablaze, a huge difference from his usually stoic, cool demeanor.

“What? No. What-? I was just caught of guard.” He replied, shifting away from her on the sofa. Perhaps he should try to respectfully make his leave-

“You laughed a little bit,” Kafka hummed, her eyes narrowing, a nearly predatory look behind them.

“I did not,” Sunday denied, frowning.

“You did.” Kafka’s already smirking lips began curving upwards even further.

“I am not ticklish. Where did you even get that from? Your claim makes little to no se–”

“Alright. Let’s prove it.” Kafka said, and before his brain could even process her words, two hands were firmly gripping his sides, fingertips digging into the flesh.

Sunday let out a surprised, “Aah-ha!” Falling back onto the sofa and attempting to squirm away. It did not tickle so terribly - yet single nerve felt as though it was on fire, and his embarrassment worsened with every little squeak which escaped his lips. He hated his laugh, and he was now sure he hated this damned woman, and her damned smirk, and her damned hands.

“Wait- Wait! Wahahait!” He cursed himself, giggles slipping into his words. His body was jumping, hands reaching down to try and push her’s away, but to no avail. She easily dodged all of his attempts, hands squishing at the sides of his stomach now, only worsening the sensations.

“Gah! Ahahaa! Wahait!” Kafka was smirking, watching the usually uptight Halovian fall apart just from a few touches. His body spasmed when she got closer to his belly, and she chuckled.

“So much for not ticklish, hm?” She hummed out, that predatory glint still in her eyes. He was blushing hard, his laugh a bit awkward - probably from not being genuinely used in so long - and his smaller pair of wings were busy trying to cover up his face.

What an adorable sight.

Her hands teased his belly for a few moments longer, before lowering down on it. Sunday squealed, blushing a dark red now as he lowered his hands to block his sensitive stomach, panting. He heard Kafka click her tongue.

“K-Kafka, thahat’s–!” Suddenly, her hands were in his underarms, those horrid nails scratching at the exposed skin.

“AAah! Kahafka!” He cried out loudly, tone becoming more and more high pitched the longer this went on. His arms slammed down, trying to fruitlessly guard his vulnerable underarms, but that just pushed her hands in deeper, digging into the centers.

His wings were quivering, both sets, and he bucked up wildly. His hair was becoming a mess and his clothing ruffled. Mirthful tears sprung up in his eyes, threatening to fall down his red cheeks, and his chest heaved.

Kafka scratched in his underarms a moment longer before removing her hands altogether, recognizing his limit. She was still smirking, and he breathlessly glared at her.

“...Ruhude.” He panted out, titters still escaping every here and there.

Kafka only smirked, “You had many chances to say stop. You didn’t.”

His cheeks lit up again - Great Xipe, he’d never get over this embarrassment. What’s worse is that she is absolutely correct.

Sitting up, Sunday muttered a quick, “Be quiet..” as he tried to smooth down his clothes. He felt much lighter now, he realized. Not so tense anymore - yet despite that, he still glared at Kafka before moving off of the sofa.

Well. Now he has to go hide in the bathroom for a couple of hours. And possibly die from the embarrassment.

“Excuse me,” he grunted out, and hid his tiny smile in his wing as he left. Kafka replied casually, as if she hadn’t just tickled him senseless, “Seeya.”

Weird - his headache is gone too.