#does this even make sense;;; idfk

[chesters-ocs]

My brain just went "Sylvester is probably scary as hell when he gets really mad." And so now I have this strong need to see him angry.

So I'm humbly requesting Sylvester tearing into someone with his words and maybe his fists. Honestly, it could even be Stone, because God knows Stone deserves to be yelled at. (But honestly, whoever he yells at is put to you.)

hm;; inch resting;;; to be fair, he deserves to be scary. as compensation for being the shortest one. also slight ranch au rewrite up ahead because methinks i can do better now >:3

wc: 1.5k

"Why are you here?!"

The house went quiet as soon as the icy words left the shortest of the bunch, who had went to open the door when the bell rang.

Butcher slowly turned around at the table to face his friend, his face twisting into one of discomfort, as he watched the tail of the man thrash back and forth wildly, hardly a hint of the usually composed energy Sylvester exuded on the norm.

He almost looked ready to tear the other person in the room apart: ears pinned close to the skull, blending into his long-since grayed hair, his pose resembling that of feral animal, with how he was hunched ever so slightly, his shoulders tense, eyes focused only on the target of his fury.

Even from his spot across the room, Butcher could hear the breathing, no, panting, and the way it resembled that of the growls of a feral animal instead.

"Well?" Sylvester demanded an answer, staring up, baring his teeth in the process. Teeth, that were sharp enough to draw blood. And a lot of it. Unsatisfied with the continued silence, he raised his voice further: "Speak when spoken to, god damn it!"

Butcher ignored how tense the kids in the room got, and how his own husband quickly herded them away from the kitchen-living room space, cutting the dinner talk short.

Thinking quickly, the gangster excused himself to quote-unquote "go out for a quick smoke," silently thankful that the household had grown used to his frequent cigarette breaks. In reality, they all knew it was so he remain close by and could intervene if the situation demanded it.

Pushing past the man, he finally saw the poor soul on the other side of the door, who was unfortunate enough to light such a fire in him.

Butcher is not proud of the way his own fist balled, as if ready to throw the first punch.

The woman at the door paled slightly, her confident facade crumbling near-instantly.

To everyone's surprise, Sylvester's arm stretched out to block Butcher. He looked up at him over his shoulder, as he spoke: "If you need to, go trough the back door. I'm busy."

Sylvester's tone of voice left no room for arguments. Accepting his fate, the taller man stepped back inside, closing and locking the door after him, to the dismay of the other men, who were watching the situation.

"Hey, hold on, what are you doing? What if-"

"He's got it handled. That's just a pest. A fucking annoying, shameless goddamn pest," he interrupted, and leaned against the door with a soft thud, effectively blocking both Vikram and Ashok's attempts to unlock the door.

"He's got it handled," Butcher continued, "Keep the kids away from the windows. Sure as hell won't be pretty."

"Hey, what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Vikram asked, his paranoia spiking, not wanting to leave his husband out and alone with someone he could only assume to be a threat.

"Mean's he's got a shit ton of pent up emotions to get out. Let him, I wanna hear it," Butcher grins, purposefully being vague.

Truth be told, the person on the other side of the door was someone both Butcher and Sylvester knew unfortunately well. That much is evident by how loud the man got, his voice getting trough, despite the door.

To them, it was muffled, but the woman, Līva, heard everything loud and clear.

"Are you going to fucking speak or not?! I don't have all day!"

"Why is he here?"

"None of your goddamn business. And I asked you that question first, sweetheart, so spill it!" the petname was coated in so much venom and hatred that it could almost kill. Almost.

"Well, honey," she finally bit back, but the confidence she tried to put on was barely reaching her eyes, and the slight waver in her voice was instantly caught by him, "I am... just here for a little visit, is all. Am I not allowed to visit my darling dear daughter?" she smiled, but it quickly became a grimace at the scoff that escaped the man.

"Daughter? Daughter?! Are you fucking hearing yourself, woman?!"

Behind the door, Butcher's smirk widened, while the other two men shared concerned glances at each other. The window was ever so slightly cracked open, so they heard everything loud and clear.

"You barely have a fucking right to call yourself that! Not after you disfigured her, not after you left her, not after you left us!"

Vikram's eyes widened ever-so-slightly, and he turned to Butcher: "Who is he talking to?"

"A certain, lousy ex wife of his."

There was no time for more questions, as Līva spoke again, faking being indignant.

"What, me? Leave? No, honey, never-"

"Shut up.. Just shut the fuck up! You left me, went off and screwed some bloody Frenchman, and lord knows it's a bloody damn miracle he saw you for anything more than the gold digger you so clearly are! You not only broke my heart, but his one too! And then you have the audacity to pretend Mary's mine! The amount of lies you can spin would be impressive, if it wasn't for the fact it pisses me the fuck off!"

Each word got faster and faster, his temper rising rapidly, ready to blow over at any given second.

The woman paled, unaware how much the man before her knew, before trying to mend the situation, eyes looking around wildly as she stammered.

"U-Uhm, you see- w-well! Remember how you promised you'd b-be there for me? No matter what-"

"That was only true before you dumped divorce papers on me and before you ran off to lead poor Martin on." Sylvester dismissed her near-instantly. "Just... tell me why you're here. So this can be done with, why don't you?"

"Ah, yes, yes, right away, honeydew. I need money. You're still in debt to me, remember, cutie? Nothing personal, but I'm here to collect-"

It was now when the door swung open, with Butcher having decided Sylvester's let out enough steam.

The woman gulped when she saw him once more, aware that her so-called "master plan" is about to be lit ablaze.

"Collecting money, eh?" he asked, gently guiding Sylvester back inside, where Vikram gladly took him away, comforting the man who's voice has now turned hoarse, and the adrenaline leaving his veins making him a bit more sluggish than usual.

"Y'know... It's one thing to lie, and it's another thing entirely to make up a situation... Shame that you're piss poor at lying though," he commented, clearly using his intimidation factor to freeze her in place, as he finally lit that cigarette.

Līva was frozen. It was a pity Butcher could not hear her heart hammering in her chest.

"You may think you're tough shit for playing mind games with someone like him. Someone who clearly loved you and didn't want to hurt you back," he hummed, taking a long drag, as he started slowly circling around her, "But you're really just a pathetic excuse for human scum. I don't even think it'd be fun to kill you. Would feel more like pest control, than a satisfying kill."

"Though," He spoke after exhaling the smoke right into her face, making her cough and rub her eyes instinctively, "I guess I could make it more... exciting~"

The way he spoke was absolutely perverted, and Līva was absolutely sure he was getting off on her unease, her blatant fear of her better (or worse, in this case) version. She never imagined he'd be here too. Never in a million years.

Before she could mourn the world in which she never came to this home, to her ex's house, Butcher started counting down. Ever the sadistic freak.

"Five... Four..."

She made out the slight glimpse of his brass knuckles fit snug on his fingers, as he leisurely reached for his holstered gun.

'Jesus fucking Christ, since when did he have that?!' she thought.

"Three..."

Locking in her fate, she spun on her heel, and ran to her car.

The last glimpse she saw of him was him aiming it directly at her, as if she were now his target practice.

Satisfied at her quick departure, he holstered the pistol and kept smoking in peace. Or, what would have been peace, if his lover had not interrupted him.

There was a hint of disapproval, if not disappointment in Ashok's voice, as he leaned against the doorframe, not caring about the cigarette smoke that was being let in. "Did you have to resort to that?"

"And miss out on messing with that chick? Not a chance, dollface!"

"... I'm giving that gun to Sylvester when you come inside," he threatened lightly.

"Hah, fine by me."

"But you two are so going to tell me who that lady is! Sounded... Bad."

"That's putting it lightly, doll," Butcher chuckled, snuffing the cigarette out on the ashtray, stepping back inside to the warm home, where the smell of the dinner still persisted.

[19burstraat]

I love that kaz's revenge kind of... fails. I really love that he doesn't quite get a satisfying revenge on rollins, and I've always thought that was... well, the point. I said more about the specific scene with pekka here but like. it IS a turning point for kaz, it's just not the one he wanted. kaz gets about three narrative warnings/pieces of foreshadowing that it's not going to go how he wants it to go, but he really doesn't heed them until it's too late.

the first is the broken leg from the heist on the bank that helped pekka scam them; while its main narrative purpose is that it's the source of kaz's disability ofc (which feeds into his personal arc and his dynamic with wylan), and it exists outside of the pekka stuff, it arguably has a secondary purpose as the first in a series of 'don't pursue this, it's going to hurt' warnings, which he ignores.

the second warning comes when kaz lets pekka out at hellgate for personal score settling reasons, wastes time and fucks up the plan, and then starts a big domino effect where rollins turns the dregs on him, teams up with van eck, and hires dunyasha to attack inej.

(there are lots of other mini-nods to kaz absolutely refusing to let go of what happened and it informing everything he does; making nina give muzzen fake firepox, the fake pandemic, his interest in fifth harbour being implied to be because that's where he crawled out of the harbour, his dynamics with jesper and wylan, the body boats taking everyone out of the city, etc, but these are the big slip-ups)

the third strike feeds from that; the sweet reef sugar silo job is an almost perfect copy of the second stage of rollins' scam on jordie and kaz; sugar stock prices being driven up due to scarcity. it going so horribly wrong (because pekka anticipated it, of course he did, he made it up) and almost getting inej killed by dunyasha is a final warning to kaz to, effectively, let go or be dragged. if he carries on living in the past like this, he's going to lose his new family, not just his old one.

I think pekka's inability to remember jordie's name was more crushing than kaz admitted to himself, at least on the page; "it was a start" feels almost defeated after all that, and it lacks closure. kaz only gets one more point of view chapter (iirc?) one which feels quite reticent (it's the council of tides one and it's quite short) and he's quite quiet for the rest of the book, at least until the last inej chapter. he gets probably the cruellest wake-up call he could have been given. he doesn't get what he wants, and he'll never get it, because rollins still can't remember jordie's name by the end of the novel. it's time to move on. to his credit, he does it; he does what he always does, which is rise to a challenge. half of kaz's appeal lies in his ability to do that, no matter how hard the task, but it's a hard bandage to rip off.

unfortunately he does not really let go until he's being dragged, when his idea of what his confrontation with pekka should be like, crumbles in the face of pekka just not being able to remember jordie's name, no matter what kaz does. kaz is dragged to the precipice and told, look– here's inej, here's rollins. choose. and that's when he finally has to let go and start doing things for the future and inej, not the past and rollins and jordie. (remember that bit when he's drowning in SOC and he tries to think of revenge, and he can only think of inej instead? he always knew what he was going to pick, really).

he gets rollins out of ketterdam, but it's definitely hollow, in my estimation; the one thing kaz wanted him to remember, and he couldn't, because it wasn't important to him like it was to kaz. there's one final nod to kaz making everything about what happened to him and jordie (sneaking the grisha, colm, and matthias' body out of the city via the bodyboats and 'the bodymen don't bother to rearrange them') but I think inej saying "he doesn't say goodbye. he just lets go" comes at the perfect point; up until then it wasn't true, but now, kaz has finally been forced to (somewhat) let go, having never ever done that before.

but kaz buying inej her ship and a berth at fifth harbour (where he crawled out of the harbour and vowed to start the entire revenge plot) is a nice indication that he is trying to close that part off and move forwards with her, rather than staying in the past. and I really like that it's inej who actually makes the threat against pekka's life, to make sure he stays out of ketterdam; it's hard to know if kaz told her anything that prompted that visit (if he did, I doubt it was much, and I actually suspect he didn't know she'd gone there at all) but no matter what the circumstances, it indicates that he doesn't have to go on alone anymore, and he can finally turn away from that obsession. shared burdens n that. it's not a sad ending, it's honestly a good one for both of them, but it was a pretty rough journey to get there, and he had to fail first.

[pxrxmoore]

every single week we canonically get one step closer to buddie endgame. truly what a time to be alive 🙏

[lctibule]

SPEECH PATTERNS — minjoon

complexity of vocabulary : ◼◼◼◻◻ emotion : ◼◻◻◻◻ sentence structure : ◼◼◼◼◻ profanity frequency : ◼◻◻◻◻ creativity : ◼◼◻◻◻ watchfulness : ◼◼◼◼◻

( bold all that apply ) ass. asshole. bastard. bitch. bloody. bugger. bollocks. crap. cunt. dick. frick. fuck. fuckshit. horseshit. motherfucker. piss. prick. screw. shit. shitass. chicken shit. son of a bitch. son of a whore. twat. wanker. ( given proper religious context ) christ on a bike. christ on a cracker. damn. goddamn. godsdamn. hell. holy shit. jesus. jesus christ. jesus, mary and joseph. sweet jesus.

( this or that )

contractions or enunciation? straightforward or cryptic? jargon or toned? complexity or simplicity? finding the right word or using the first word that comes to mind? masculinity, neutrality, or femininity? formalities or abrasiveness? insult or injury? praise or equivocation? frankness or lies? excessive or minimal hand gestures? name-calling or magnanimity? friendly or blunt nicknames?

( important questions )

do people have a hard time understanding or hearing your character ? almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never does your character’s point come across easily when they speak ? almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never would your character initiate conversations ? almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never would your character be the one to end conversations ? almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never would your character use ‘whom’ in a sentence ? yes / no / only ironically your character wants to make a counterpoint. what word do they use ? but / though / although / however / perhaps / mayhaps how would your character pick up the phone ? hello / hey / hi / yellow / yo / yeah / [name]. / what’s up / who is this / what do you want / can i help you? how does your character end conversations ? walk away / ask if that’s everything / say that that’s everything / give a proper goodbye / tell their company they’re done here / remain quiet / they don’t how does your character address others ? titles / first names / surnames / full names / nicknames what social class would others assume your character belongs to, hearing them speak ? upper / middle / lower in what ways does the way your character speak stand out to others ? accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn’t

[gio-cosmo]

Mr. Grizz himself must’ve been personally sabotaging me during big big run bc tell me why out of all the times I got the tri-boss I got the grizzco splatana every single time except ONCE. The grizzco splatana is like the ONE grizzco weapon I completely suck at and every time the battle would begin I’d glance at the weapon selection and I’d start praying “please please pleas tell me I’m not the one with that stupid fucking splatana please surely I can’t keep getting it over and over please please” and then I’d look down at my stupid little octoling holding the splatana and I’d be like yeah okay. Okay splatana. Okay.

[murderoushagthesequel]

yes, yes barty is babygirl

and regulus black is shawty bae

@canyouhearmyfear

[todayisafridaynight]

its cute kondo and hijikata both have fireball attacks but i wanna know why the fuck tokugawa has a whole fucking flamethrower

[reikunrei]

maaaan I’ve really got my brain stuck on the lack of period/menstruation explicitly mentioned in st. bc that’s weird right??? like… I understand that a lot of any sort of vaginal imagery would be bc of the tie to birth, and menstruation is almost explicitly a lack of pregnancy so it’s like opposite but. it goes hand in hand you know? so why…

[castielmacleod]

The demon curing “ritual” in spn is honestly so abysmally boring. That was really the best most interesting and creative way to cure a demon they could come up with. Go Andrew give us nothing

[anonymous-ventss]

Torn between wanting to wholly and completely belong to someone in mind and body and soul like some fucked up religious devotee or never making contact with another human being ever again because I did everything alone including keeping myself sane, and do I really deserve to be shattered apart again after giving everything to someone?

[motochiri]

Lol Gabi slowly becoming the CEO of the color pink and the 😭 emoji

so real............ but the gag is............ my favorite color is purple 🔮

[kaguya-muneuji]

i do truly need to go to sleep, maybe that will fix everything <3

[neverendingford]

.

[mekatrio]

also its amazing how ive been a fan of kagepro for 11 years now and i still dont fucking understand the antagonist. like at all.

[notaveryfuntime]

HAAATE it when people say shit like oh sam was so confused with dean flirting with cas :((( it took him awhile to figure out they are gay :((( as if sam hadnt kissed his guy friends at stanford and hadnt clocked them from the MOMENT he saw them interact get a grip

[bokunoheros]

TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab (they do wear a dress and lingerie tho), reader and shouto are married, reader was in 1-A, pro hero shouto, everyone is 27+, alcohol consumption (shouto’s drunk), mentions of smoking a blunt (reader’s high), sex in a classroom, idfk GENRE: smut bruh SUMMARY: when you suggest doing it in public briefly and in passing to your husband, you were not expecting him to take you up on that offer at your fucking high school reunion!? WORD COUNT: 1.9K 🦊’s A/N: okay. so. this was originally supposed to be for iida, but since FORDULA couldn’t do day 18 like they were meant to… i wrote it for shouto instead bc im not writing for tenya sorry yall // also i wrote most of this the day before it was due after waking up at 5am so uhm 👍 god help me

     the very last thing you were expecting from your husband would be the idea of him enjoying semi-public sex—it made sense how one would arrive to this conclusion, seeing as how he’s such a reserved person and all. you don’t even remember when it was that you brought it up—it must have just been a comment in passing; not that shouto missed it, of course. and then the suggestion got him thinking…. like seriously considering it. the more he thought about it, the more arousing it became to him, until it was a borderline fantasy: him fucking you somewhere you could easily be caught at with a large hand covering your mouth to make sure no one could overhear your desperate little noises. fuck.

     now he finds himself at his ten year high school reunion, all dressed up with a raging erection that he was trying to hide by sitting at one of the tables there, grateful for the fabric draped over them, as he drinks and drinks to calm his nerves. thank god you volunteered to drive back home tonight. you don’t know what possessed you, but you didn’t feel like getting slizzard tonight—a stark contrast to your husband, who was trying to drink his boner away. (without much luck, mind you.)

     when you come back over from the dancefloor to check in on your husband, however, he’s quick to excuse himself from the table he’d been seated at all night and drag you off to an empty classroom. 

     “shouto? ‘s something wrong?” you ask, looking up at him. 

     “no—i just—” how does he put this? “really wanna fuck you,” is what comes out of his drunken lips, his brain to mouth filter having shut off for the night. (was it really there to begin with though..?)

     “oh!” you squeak as your cheeks flush at his words and he backs you up against the door. “h–here?” you’re at a loss for words entirely while shouto places both large, calloused hands on your hips as he begins to press sloppy, drunken kisses along your neck. “sh–shouto!”

     “mmh?” he hums, not pausing in his actions—he doubles down, actually, by nipping at the tender flesh of your throat, the hands on your hips sliding down your thighs, down to the hem of the disgustingly skimpy dress you had decided to wear tonight—the reason for his raging erection all night—where they sneak up under it and back of to your hips so he could feel your bare flesh, quirk activating enough for you to feel an extreme difference in temperatures, but not ruin the fabric of your dress from the inside out.

     “we—we can’t do that here; someone’s gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long!” you weakly protest, words holding no real weight. because if you were being one hundred percent honest, you wanted this just as much as he did, even without any alcohol in your system! (you had smoked a blunt and hotboxed the shit out of your car after arriving at the prestigious school, though, as you refused to be sober for an event such as this.)

     “oh yeah? like who?” he counters, beginning to suck at your neck, not lingering on any one spot.

     “a–ashido, probably! i— i just got done dancing with her—”

     “i know, ‘ve been watchin’ you all night,” he slurs. “so you’re just taking a break—maybe you went to the bathroom, that’s not her business.” his hips press into yours, and you whine at the feeling of his hardened cock pressing against your crotch. 

     “god—you’re so full of shit,” you tell him, burying one hand in his two toned hair while the other settles on a sturdy shoulder, and todoroki can’t help but smile at your words.

     “so?” you can feel him grinning against your neck, like a drunken fool in love (which is exactly what he was, by the way). 

     you’re out of comebacks and excuses as to why he shouldn’t fuck you right here, right now, so instead of trying to argue against hip, you tug at his hair so he’ll look at you before leaning in to press a kiss to his plump lips. 

     he tasted like the sake he’d been sipping on all night as he watched you with that intense gaze of his—something he inherited from his father, like it or not—and he hums in a pleased manner as he grips your hips tighter.

     “how much have you had to drink tonight, baby?” you ask once you reluctantly pull away from the kiss—a question shouto chooses to ignore.

     he’d had maybe three and a half red solo cups worth of sake in his system, which was enough for his inhibitions of being caught melt away. he almost hopes you two do get caught (by an old classmate at least) just so he can wordlessly flex that he was the one with the smoking hot spouse and not them. 

     so, with your minimal resistance and shouto’s horny persistence, it’s not long until he’s got his thumbs hooked in the waistband of your panties and is tugging them down your thighs, asking you to step out of them so can keep them in his pocket (for the rest of the reunion). 

     “hhnng—,” you whine as two of shouto’s icy fingers move to play with your clit, and a chill runs down your spine at the feeling. “sho—” you’re cut off by a kiss as your husband slots his lips over yours, teeth clacking slightly as he kisses you sloppily and hungrily. it wasn’t unusual for shouto’s to be a bit of a sloppy kisser (as it turns out, he’s a really big fan of swapping spit), but generally he was more put together than he was right now—it’s like he was trying to eat you whole as his tongue easily slid into your already open mouth.

     you, ever the tease, quickly get with the program and arch your back, pressing your chest against his, and start sucking on his almost burning tongue—something that catches him only slightly off guard. he’s fast with his response though, left hand moving to squeeze your ass, heating up enough to leave a faint burning handprint.

     “fuck!” you squeal at the searing touch and accidentally bite shouto’s tongue in the process.

     he pulls away with a hiss but no real disdain before the same hand that had left a print on your butt comes up to cover your mouth. sure, the music in the gym was awfully loud, but there could still be some other people in the hallway—maybe people who actually had to use the bathroom. it doesn’t matter. what matters is that shouto gets to fuck you, and—an idea comes to mind that only his drunk, secretly perverted brain could think of.

     “shhh,” he shushes you, pulling his hand away from your mouth in order to undo his belt buckle and unbutton his nice dress pants. 

     biting your lip, you nod as he tugs the slacks and his boxers down to about half way down his thick thighs, letting his painfully hard cock spring free and slap against his lower stomach. you can’t help but bite your bottom lip at the sight, and you go to sink to your knees to suck him off before he’s tugging you back up by the hair.

     “no,” he pants, taking his dick in one hand as he plants the other back on your hip. “need t’fuck you—please, angel, i— it hurts,” he whines, lining his throbbing length up with your already wet slit.

     “yeah? okay, fuck—go ahead, baby,” you give him permission to actually insert himself, and he groans loudly at the feeling of your tight heat finally engulfing him. jesus! he had waited all night for this, and it was so worth it.

      “hnngh—shit,” he whimpers, the hand that was previously holding his dick moving to play with your puffy clit as he pushes into you slowly at first before bottoming out all at once. fuck! 

     your breath hitches in your throat and you can’t help but moan shouto’s name while tugging at his hair as he kisses you sloppy style once more. 

     with how drunk and horny he was, it doesn’t take long for your husband to approach his climax, and with the way he was toying with your sensitive button, you’re quickly being worked up to one too, until—

     knockknockknock!

     “hello..? i thought i heard someone groan, are you okay in there?” the voice is familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger on who it was. (it was hagakure, by the way.)

     shouto freezes in all his actions and looks at you with half lidded eyes and a knowing smirk, cheeks flushed as he tries to quieten his breathing. your hips involuntarily roll down against the fingers still pressed against your clit, and you accidentally let out a quiet moan before covering your mouth with both hands, face burning with shame and arousal.

     “all fine in here, thanks,” shouto’s able to get out, though his voice is strained. “just— ….reminiscing!” he lies, as if he wasn’t balls deep in you right now.

     “ooh! fun! can i join?” the door handle jiggles, and shouto’s hand flys out to freeze the door shut. “—huh? hey, what’s with the door?”

     “it’s—uhm, it’s personal memories,” he follows up, dick twitching inside you. fuck, how was he meant to last like this?

     you almost giggle at his lame ass excuse and over the top reaction, until you remember that over the top reaction is the exact reason tooru hadn’t just seen you both in such a compromising position.

     “we’ll be—done soon!” you call out, and at the sound of your voice and insistence on her not coming in, the invisible woman gets the message before saying oh! okay! and finally walking off.

     “that was— that was close, wasn’t it?” shouto pants, starting to move his hips again as his fingers resume their circular motions against your clit. 

     “yeah, i could really feel how excited you were,” you chuckle, to which shouto huffs and picks up his pace. “nngh–!” you moan softly, as you both finally get a chance to cum.

     your husband's dick twitches sporadically deep inside you before hot, sticky cum spills out of it and into you as your pussy spasms and flutters around him, milking shouto for everything he was worth and then some. 

     slowly pulling out of you, he plants a kiss to your spit-soaked lips before pulling his pants back up and redoing his belt and melting away the ice he had created not too long ago as you tug the hem of your dress down, and—hey! that panty thief!

     “shouto…. aren’t you forgetting something?” you try to remind him, cringing at the feeling of his cum starting to leak out of your wet cunt and trickle down your thigh. 

     “mmh,” his brows scrunch in thought, as if he’s actually thinking. “no? i don’t think so?” he moves to grab the door handle, but you bat his hand away and tug at his wrist.

     “my…. my panties?” you say, trying to squeeze your thighs together to prevent any more cum from dripping out, but to no avail.

     “oh! right—” he goes to take them out of his pocket before he pauses and a smirk tugs at his pouty lips. “you can have them back when we get home,” he tells you, opening the door and starting to walk out. “now come on, the others are going to get suspicious if we’re gone too long.”

goddamn him!

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