#his life is not the sum of his being used

[callsign-mayhem]

How about a Christian!reader praying for Bradley before every flight? (Only if you are comfortable tho)

the way home (b.b)

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Christian!Reader Word count: 1.6k CW: None, really. But if you're uncomfortable reading about Christianity, this one probably isn't for you.

A/N: Thank you, Anonymous, for your lovely request. My grandma is a Christian, and although I don't follow the religion anymore, it holds a very special place in my heart. I grew up very close to her, and I wrote the prayers in this fic based on things I remember her saying and ways she used to phrase things. Forgive me if this isn't accurate, but I truly did my best.

Your faith was one thing you had never been quiet about. Why would you when it was your guiding light and life force? People tended to be loud about the things they loved, and you loved the Lord with every fibre of your being, all the breath in your lungs, and every step you took. Your faith could move mountains. It was worth shouting from the rooftops about. You loved Bradley Bradshaw, too. It was a different sort of love, especially since he was not a man of God, but you were just as loud about it. If your faith in God could move mountains, your faith in Bradley could power the fighter jet he flew for the rest of time. He could do a lap of the Earth with your love as fuel, and it would be more than enough to get him home to you. Bradley had always known about your closeness to Jesus. You’d met at a charity fundraiser for your local church, where the Dagger Squad had raised a tidy sum auctioning dates with pilots. You had been manning the baked goods table. You weren’t supposed to be watching—but of course you were watching. Everyone was watching. Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw stood on the tiny wooden stage looking more uncomfortable than a cat in a bathtub. He scratched the back of his neck while Jake—of course it had been Jake—held the mic and narrated his life like it was a game show.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, and anyone else with eyeballs,’ Jake had drawled. ‘Next up, we have the one, the only, Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw! He cooks, he sings, he flies jets, and rumour has it his moustache alone has healed at least three broken hearts—’ Bradley had looked like he wanted the Earth to open up and swallow him whole. You had wanted to laugh. Or hide. Or scream. ‘Bidding starts at twenty dollars for a lunch date,’ Jake continued. ‘And he’s even promised not to talk about planes the entire time!’ You’d turned back to the table and definitely hadn’t peeked through the croissants at him. You also definitely hadn’t felt your heart trip over itself when he caught your eye across the churchyard and gave you a sheepish, crooked little smile. And then you'd heard Jake say, ‘Sold! To the young lady in the blue dress with the chocolate chip muffin tray!’ You’d blinked, totally dumbfounded as everyone turned to peek at the aforementioned lady in the blue dress. The rational part of you had wanted to call out that there had been some kind of mistake, but you found that you had gone momentarily mute. The rest, as they say, was history. Long picnics at the beach watching the sunset over the water while sipping on homemade lemonade, swimming in the pool atop your apartment complex, Sunday morning trips to the farmer’s market, late night browsing at the bookstore, road trips in the Bronco…it had been pretty perfect so far. You didn’t believe in jinxing things, so it was fine to say so. Bradley had come into your life at the exact right moment, in the exact right way, and you truly believed that Jesus had put him there Himself. You felt that this relationship was part of the bigger plan He had for you, and although you weren’t privy to it, you trusted that it would work out exactly the way it was supposed to. 

You’d been dating for just over a month the first time you prayed over Bradley. He was set to go on a short recon mission, two weeks max, and you’d driven him to base so you could say one final goodbye. When you pulled up, you hadn’t thought twice.

You’d turned to face him and taken both of his hands in yours, closing your eyes as you always did when you said a prayer. 

‘Lord, I ask that you watch over Bradley on his mission. Go ahead of him and remove any obstacles placed by the enemy that might get in his way. Set angels to guard his plane, and the rest of his amazing squad, who are doing their duty to protect us. I plead the blood of Jesus over Bradley today. I ask You to cover him from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. Keep him safe in the skies, guide his hands, and calm his heart. Bring him home the same way you always do—whole, steady, and wrapped in your mercy. In Jesus’ name, amen.’

Upon opening your eyes, Bradley had been gazing at you with such intense admiration that it had been hard to meet his eye. 

‘Thank you.’ He’d said, voice husky with what could have only been tears. ‘Nobody has ever prayed for me before.’ 

‘Well, I do, all the time. You just didn’t know it.’

Fast forward a few more months, and it was part of your daily routine. Even on normal days when he was just going to base for training or teaching, you said a prayer together over breakfast. On the mornings you spent the night apart, you’d send him a voicenote. 

This morning just so happened to be the morning of a mission. He’d be gone at least a month, and you weren’t happy at the prospect. As much as you were comfortable being alone—after all, you were never truly lonely—you’d grown accustomed to seeing him every day. It was hard to imagine not enjoying picnics by the ocean or little Sunday outings together for a whole month, if not longer. But if that was God’s will, then so be it. And as much as you would miss him, you were a firm believer that distance made the heart grow fonder. 

Bradley’s bag was packed and waiting by the door with his freshly-polished combat boots, courtesy of you. The two of you sat at his kitchen table, picking at some eggs on toast. Your stomachs weren’t really on board with breakfast. 

He grabbed your hand across the table, startling you out of your stupor. 

‘Hey, we’re forgetting something.’ He said, sounding slightly panicked.

You smiled reassuringly. ‘I haven’t forgotten, don’t worry.’ You gestured to his breakfast plate. ‘Try to eat a little more.’

Bradley’s shoulders sagged as he relaxed somewhat. After picking at his food a little more, he got up to scrape his plate and put it in the dishwasher. In socked feet, he padded back over to the table and collected your plate, too. No matter how many times you saw him in uniform, it never lost its novelty.

You took his hand and led him over to the couch, which was still littered with blankets and throw pillows from your movie night. He sat down beside you, still holding both your hands. You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before beginning your prayer. 

‘Lord, I plead the blood of Jesus over Bradley.’

Your voice wavered, just slightly. But your hands stayed steady, pressed against his chest like you could anchor him here with just your touch.

‘Cover him from head to toe, from the inside out. Guard his heart, guard his mind. Guard the aircraft that carries him and the people who fly beside him. Be the breath in his lungs and the calm in his hands. Go before him, stand behind him, and walk beside him in every mile he flies.’

Your fingers curled in the fabric of his flight suit.

‘I trust You with him, Lord. I trust You, even when I’m scared. Even when I want to run down that runway and keep him from leaving. But I know you go where I can’t. You see what I don’t. So I place him in Your hands again—because they’re stronger than mine.’

You paused. Took a breath.

‘Bring him back to me, God.’ Your voice was soft now. Barely more than a whisper. ‘Whole. Safe. And soon. In Jesus’ name, amen.’ You barely had time to whisper amen before Bradley reached for you.

He didn’t say anything—not at first. Just leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closed, like he was memorising the shape of your presence. Like if he stayed there long enough, he might be able to carry the echo of your heartbeat with him all the way through the sky.

His hands settled at your waist. Yours stayed fisted in his flight suit, clinging like your prayers hadn’t quite finished yet.

‘I don’t deserve you,’ he murmured, voice thick. ‘But I’m damn sure coming back to you.’

You kissed him, slowly and reverently. 

‘You do deserve me, Bradley. Ten times over. I’m so proud to be your girlfriend, and so thankful that I’m the one you fight to come home to.’

And you knew without a doubt that you would tell him over and over again until he believed it. 

Because you were not one to be silent about the ones you loved—the ones you had faith in. And although it would be a long time before you knew it, Bradley whispered your prayers in the cockpit, thousands of miles above the land. He prayed for his safety, the safety of his crew, the success of the mission and that he would get home in one piece. 

But most of all, he prayed for you. He prayed that you wouldn’t worry too much about him, that you were happy and well, and that the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit—whoever was out there listening—would really hear him when he asked to remain with you forever. 

And when he touched ground after his mission, he prayed that you hadn’t found the engagement ring hidden at the bottom of his wardrobe. 

[coraniaid]

I've recently been seeing people sum up the ending of Season 2 as "Buffy gets kicked out of her house", which feels to me like a pretty serious misreading of both the final episode and the wider season. And frankly, for that matter, a misunderstanding of the whole character of Buffy Summers. In all honesty I'm really not sure how anyone can arrive at this reading in good faith if they're even slightly paying attention to the show.

There are definitely valid complaints to be made about Season 2, but "an excess of subtlety" isn't one of them. This season -- and the two-part finale in particular -- is very, very anxious to make sure you understand what it's about. That's why we get the never before mentioned (and never after mentioned) character of Whistler to give his voice over in Part 1 of Becoming. And what does he tell us, that the writers are so keen to stress?

"Bottom line is: even if you see them coming, you're not ready for the big moments. No one asks for their life to change, not really. But it does. So what are we, helpless? Puppets? No. The big moments are gonna come. You can't help that. It's what you do afterwards that counts. That's when you find out who you are."

Or, for more on the same theme, we can look to Lie To Me earlier this season. Buffy herself sums things up to her old friend Ford after she realizes why he's so desperate to attempt to become a vampire when she tells him that "You have a choice. You don't have a good choice, but you have a choice."

It's kind of fashionable at the moment for people to insist that because Joss Whedon is a terrible person [which, to be clear, he is] and because he treated many women in both his personal and professional life dreadfully [which, again, he certainly did] that surely the only reason bad things keep happening to Buffy Summers is because of Whedon's unchecked misogyny. But I don't think that conclusion follows at all.

Bad things happen to Buffy because she is the protagonist and needs challenges to overcome, and because the whole point of the show is that life is often terrible but what matters is how you respond to that. You often don't have any good choices, but you have a choice. (Or, to borrow from a later season, the hardest thing in the world is to live in it but you have to be brave and make the decision to live regardless.)

And I think it's entirely at odds with the existentialist themes of the show -- or Buffy's status as the central protagonist -- to treat the end of Season 2 (or the end of any season of the show) simply as something awful that happens to her. As something she is merely the passive victim of. Like Whistler tells us, it's what you do that counts. Buffy doesn't have a good choice, but she has a choice.

In Season 1, Buffy chooses to accept her destiny and face the Master and die, because she sees what will happen to her friends if she doesn't. In Season 3, Buffy chooses to try to kill her shadow self and fellow Slayer Faith in order to save the life of her (now ex-)boyfriend Angel. In Season 4 (foreshadowing the end of Season 7) Buffy chooses to trust her friends and share her power to defeat Adam. In Season 5 Buffy chooses to sacrifice herself rather than let her sister die, while in Season 6 she chooses to stay alive, not to merely protect her sister from the world but to show her how beautiful life can be despite the horrors and absurdities. These aren't fair choices, or easy choices, or choices that Buffy should have to make. But the necessity of making hard choices, day after day, is the whole point of the show.

To quote Buffy herself again, this time from Season 3's Amends, being a person in the world means being prepared to fight. "It's hard, and it's painful, and it's every day. It's what we have to do."

And Buffy makes a choice at the end of Season 2 as well. She chooses to leave town, to give up being the Slayer and to retreat from the world. Perhaps that's not the most heroic choice -- it's certainly not a choice we're meant to root for, even if we can and do sympathise with it -- and it's certainly not a choice she makes in the best of circumstances, but it's still a choice. The thing about having to make hard choices every day is that sometimes you make choices you regret or you wish you'd done differently. As the show will directly have somebody tell Buffy early in that season (admittedly, not in the show's best episode and certainly not through the ideal character to deliver this particular message), if you do make bad choices "you might just have to live with the consequences".

And, honestly, even if you completely ignore or reject the thematic reading, I still don't think it's at all accurate to say that Buffy leaves town "because she was kicked out". I don't think that's the reading the writers want us to come to, and -- more importantly -- I don't think it's a reading you can come to if you take what happens on screen even remotely seriously.

It is true, yes, that halfway through the final episode Buffy's mother presents her with an ultimatum: stay at home (and try to explain in detail after two years of secrecy what being a vampire slayer means and why exactly it's so important that she alone does it and what's at stake if she doesn't) or leave the house without any explanation (beyond "I'm a vampire slayer, accept it") and "not even think about coming back". It's true that -- for reasons Joyce can't possibly know, precisely because Buffy's Watcher has been so adamant she not explain her calling to her mother before tonight -- this isn't much of a choice for Buffy: the world really will end if she doesn't go and face Angelus right now. But the framing of the scene makes it pretty clear that Joyce does not have any power here: she wants Buffy to stay ("I am not letting you out of this house"), but as Buffy says in response she can't make her. She tries to grab hold of her and physically stop her from leaving, and Buffy effortlessly shoves her back. It's only then, in one last attempt to get her daughter to stay, that Joyce threatens that she won't be welcome back if she leaves.

It's also true, and frankly shouldn't really need spelling out, that this is a pretty shitty thing for Buffy's mom to say, whatever the wider context. It's understandable that she doesn't want her daughter rushing off into the night: even ignoring that Joyce now knows there are vampires out there, Buffy is still wanted by the cops for murder, after all. It's understandable that Joyce is frustrated at finding out that her worse fears were true: Buffy really did have a big secret she was keeping from her all this time, and she still doesn't want to talk about it. But Joyce had a choice too, and she made a bad one. I think that's pretty indisputable.

I don't believe we're meant to dismiss Joyce's words as inconsequential or harmless; and I don't think we should -- it's a real shame that, just like Xander's impulsive decision not to pass on Willow's message about trying to curse Angel again, or Kendra's death and the fallout of that, the show never follows up on it in any serious or thoughtful way -- but we're not meant to view it as the most significant moment of the episode either. It is one of many awful things that happen to Buffy this episode, and frankly not one of the worse ones. I think that is very, very clear from the pacing and structure of the episode.

And, despite the fact people on Tumblr try to pretend otherwise, we know for a fact that Buffy herself does not take Joyce's threat literally. She doesn't consider herself exiled from her home in Sunnydale forever. For one thing we know that because, a few minutes after sending Angel to hell, we see her walk back to her house. We know that she climbed into her bedroom and, while packing, took the time to write her mother a note.

This sequence does not make sense if we assume Buffy thought she literally couldn't go home again. She does, literally, go home! Almost immediately! We see it happen! If she thought Joyce meant her threat seriously -- if she thought that by leaving when she did she'd already made it clear she wouldn't be coming back -- why would she do this? Why would she take the time to leave a note unless at least a part of her assumed her mother would be expecting and hoping for her to come home? (As, indeed, we see from Joyce's reaction after Buffy leaves, she was.)

And I do think that, when Buffy walked out of the house, she was -- as much as she was thinking that far ahead -- assuming that she'd be back, despite what her mom said to her. It's not as if this is the first time that Buffy and Joyce have argued, and -- once Angelus was taken care of - Buffy would at least now be able to tell her mother the truth (something that we know she's wanted to do for a while: she argued for it back in Passion for example).

I don't think that when Buffy left to fight Angelus she'd already decided that she'd never come back. And I don't think we're meant to think this. A lot of awful things have happened to Buffy in the finale by this point -- failing to distract Angel while her friends restored his soul; finding her friend Kendra dead in the library, and blaming herself both for that death and for the injuries her other friends suffer; being falsely accused by the "deeply stupid" Sunnydale police of her friend's murder; being expelled from school by a vindictive principal whose had it in for her since day one; being unwilling outed as a Slayer in front of her mother at the worst possible time for either of them; being forced to agree to let Kendra's murderer leave town safely in exchange for the life of her Watcher -- but, the way the show clearly frames it, the very worst thing is yet to come. ("I've got nothing left to lose," she tells Whistler sadly, only for him to correct her when she leaves to face Angelus: "You've got one more thing.")

Buffy defeats Angelus, and is ready to stop his plan to awaken the demon Acathla and send the world to hell ... but not before WIllow's second attempt at restoring his soul succeeds. Buffy is forced to either send Angel -- now innocent and ignorant of everything he did over the last few months -- to suffer forever in hell, or to spare him and doom the world. That is the tipping point. That is the big awful impossible choice she can't bear. That is why, after doing the heroic thing that's expected of her one last time and sending the vampire she loves to hell, she gives up on being the Slayer and Buffy Summers and leaves town, seemingly forever.

I mean, I realize that -- for mostly very boring shipping reasons -- a lot of people want to dismiss or understate Buffy's relationship with Angel as much as possible. And for the record I am not a Bangel shipper myself. I agree David Boreanaz is a mostly terrible actor, especially in these first two seasons of the show. I agree that his relationship with Buffy is deeply unhealthy and much less romantic than the show often attempts to portray it as (though, honestly, there are times the show knowingly leans into how creepy it is in ways people also don't tend to acknowledge).

But despite all that, Buffy's love for Angel is a huge part of her character! It profoundly influences every one of her future romantic and sexual relationships, canonical or not, be that with Scott Hope or Faith or Parker or Riley or Spike or anyone else. Pretending that it isn't a big deal at all -- that Buffy doesn't leaves town because she's heartbroken over what she's done to Angel -- makes it impossible to understand the character of Buffy Anne Summers as she actually is depicted on screen.

Sending Angel to hell is the worst choice Buffy has been forced to make at this point in her life, maybe the hardest thing she ever does. And that's why she leaves town at the end of the episode. It's not necessarily the only reason, but it's the biggest one. We know that, because -- in the first two episodes of Season 3 -- Buffy is still having recurring nightmares about Angel's death and projecting her guilt about sending him to hell onto other people. By contrast she only brings up Joyce's threat once, in an argument with her mother, in one of the season's worst episodes, and the writing of that episode clearly doesn't expect us to think this is important. (The writing of that episode also sucks, sure. No argument there.)

Equally, I also know -- for reasons I frankly find even less intellectually respectable than shipping nonsense -- that a lot of people want to view Joyce Summers in as bad a light as possible at all times. That they are convinced that -- just like Buffy doesn't "really" love Angel -- she doesn't "really" love her mother in the way the show repeatedly tells us and shows us that she does. That that nice Mr Giles is (somehow) a much better, much less flawed parental figure than Joyce and that Buffy herself believes this.

But this isn't true either! It's a reading that doesn't make any sense in light of this episode or the ones that follow it. Buffy leaves her mother a note before leaving town. She doesn't do that for Giles (or for any of her other friends). She doesn't let him know where she is, or try to contact him all summer. She could go to a payphone and give him a call at any point but -- to tie things back to that whole choice theme -- she consciously chooses not to! The first person she seeks out when she goes back to Sunnydale is her mother. Because Buffy loves her mother, and always has done. And because she knows that her mother loves her and she believes, correctly, that she will welcome her back.

If it was true that Buffy left town primarily because her mother "kicked her out", the end of Becoming itself and the beginning of Season 3 would play out very differently. The show would want us to spend more time thinking about Joyce's threat, and would show us that Buffy herself is thinking about it. We wouldn't have had a shot of Buffy walking back to her house and going inside before she leaves town. She wouldn't need to tell her mother she was leaving. She'd speak to her friends or her Watcher and tell them what had happened rather than immediately getting on a bus. (If Giles were half the parental figure some of you think he is, he'd offer her a place to stay.) She'd spend more (or, well, any) time thinking about her fight with her mother while she was being "Anne" in LA. When she's finally ready to be "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" again she'd come back and speak to Giles or Willow or Xander first before being prepared to face her mom.

And I mean ... surely we can admit this is very obvious? Surely I didn't need to spend so many words spelling all this out? Surely we can stop pretending that the show isn't very very clear about how we're meant to read these scenes and understand Buffy's motivation?

(For that matter, surely we can stop acting bemused about the idea Joyce is upset a strange adult man fostered a secret relationship with her teenage daughter for months which led to her struggling in school and getting in trouble with the police and regularly risking her life?)

Surely we can actually listen to what the character of Buffy Summers tells us about herself, even if it means believing she likes and cares about characters who aren't our personal favorites?

[driedrosesandcherry]

UNTIL NEXT TIME, CHERRY DELIGHT﹙ d.w.﹚ wc: 3.3k

♰　 　SAINT SAYS.ᐟ ༉‧₊˚ This took FOREVER for me to complete (the draft for this has been rotting since December.) One of the ax fight scenes (where it gets caught in the wooden wall) is based on a scene from Monkey Man. I love that movie so much. Sorry in advance for all the graphics being practically pitch. I needed to match the vibe.

˚ ⌒ㅤ ㅤೕ.* ⠀ starring        𑂴    ˖ rockstar.ᐟreader and Dean Winchester

𓍯𓂃　 　SUM .ᐟ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂 Set in season 7. It’s a snow day and anywhere the Winchesters venture there’s an underbelly of danger that permeates the city. You’re a rockstar who’s the bassist for Rose Devil and you were supposed to play a show at a small venue today. Their line of work doesn’t hand out breaks and neither does either of yours.

cw ⠀◌ 𓈒 ꒪⠀ 18+ (MINORS DNI) No use of y/n, usage of she/her pronouns, swearing, vivid (descriptive) blood and violence, alcohol consumption (dean), smoking (rockstar.ᐟreader and dean), nipple play, oral (reader receiving), face sitting, porn with hella plot, mild flirting on the job, yes the ax bass is reference to Marceline. There’s no distinct skin color, height, or weight for the reader. The photos are just for the aesthetic. There’s only the style, body mods, skin type (e.g. blemished, freckled, dewy, etc.), and a mild description of rockstar!reader’s personality mentioned. A constant switch between 2nd and third person between scene breaks.

She’d met Dean at some antique bar that was swankier than what was usual for him while pitstopping in the same town as he did. He trekked over to her first while she was drinking with her bandmates and didn’t hesitate to flirt while taking swigs of whiskey that had been diluted by the ice. They dispersed and gave reassuring nudges and she curtly nodded, communicating wordlessly as she assured them she’d be fine with a look. He’d cleaned up nice after returning from a hunt and needed a fix to his marred mood after he and Sam had been orbiting the leviathan issue for too long now and their dearly beloved Castiel had supposedly met his unfortunate destination.

“Sweetheart, I gotta tell you,” he pauses for a low whistle of appreciation to filter through his lips, “you are gorgeous. Are you from around here?”

An impromptu pickup line? Seriously?

This is one of many times Dean is lucky someone is interested and he is attractive because she soon indulges in him. She allowed her mocktail to guide her in the conversation as his whiskey did for him. “I’m from around pretty much anywhere.” She nebulously responded with a soft smirk adorning her lips, peeking at him over the glass as she took a swig.

And Dean’s easily amused by this as he’s about the same. Ready to uproot and leave at any given time. "Sounds like you're a nomad." He commented, taking note of her vague response. He was intrigued by her. She was exactly the kind of woman he needed in his life right now and he wanted to continue pouring his attention wholly into this conversation to securely wedge his debut into her schedule.

“Something like that.” It’s not like she wanted to blather on about traveling to perform alongside her band members to a stranger at a bar while she’s not even tipsy yet. Though she was proud of their collective discography and work ethic.

He chuckled smoothly, the mirth in his eyes growing. He found her playful demeanor intriguing. "A woman of mystery," He took a step closer, narrowing the barrier between them both. He was nearly standing directly in front of her, his tall stature becoming more prominent. He studied her for a moment, those earthy hues of his flickering over her visage.

"I like it." He admitted, donning a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And I like cute men who are interested in me.” She responded with a noncommittal shrug and a soft smile as her maintained eye contact didn’t waver.

He hummed, a pleased boyish grin spread across his handsome face. He couldn't help but feel a slight touch of flattery at her response. He took another sip of his whiskey, his gaze still fixed on her. "You're not so bad yourself." He replied, teasing threaded into his words. He leaned closer to her, prodding until he reached his limit with her in this endless sensual game of tug of war. "You really are stunning."

“Sexy even?” She responded with a subtle cant of her head to the right as her gaze flickered between his. His smirk returned at her response. He absentmindedly mirrored the soft tip of her head, keeping his eyes locked with hers. "Oh, definitely sexy." He replied, his timbre low and sultry. He shamelessly allowed his eyes to skim over her body, appreciating her form. "Most beautiful woman in the room." He added, his gaze flickering up again to meet her eyes. His compliments were genuine and not in its totality a flimsy charming guise at getting in her pants.

She smirked and gave him a once over in return before taking the last swig of her drink. “Well, what’s your name then?” She murmured as she allowed her fingers to glide along his shoulder and squeeze his bicep through his t-shirt before her hand hung loosely at her side. He elicited a small chortle, but the smirk remained on his face nonetheless. The touch of her fingers on his shoulder seemed to serve as an electrifying momentary experience for him, but he managed to keep his composure.

"Dean." He answered back, his voice holding his constant cocky confidence. He couldn't help but feel satisfaction at the way she was looking at him. He flexed his arm subtly under her touch, just to show off a little. He’s like a male bird trying to mate. And at that moment Dans mon île by Henri Salvador playing lowly for ambience is a beyond distant sound. Soon enough they both are outside of the bar and sharing a Marlboro while talking about how life treats the other without revealing much. He’s fascinated by the unpredictability of who she told him she was on a minuscule degree. She makes perfect sense with what is surrounding him. Selfishly he’s silently wishing to keep contact with her after this.

“So, back to my place or yours?” She spoke up first after he stomped out the cigarette, turning her head to look over at him with a soft smile.

The two ended up heading back to her hotel room in his ‘67 Chevy Impala after she returned inside of the bar to tell her friends she was leaving with him. The ride there was filled with conversation for the near thirty five minutes it took and upon opening the door of the room, articles of clothing piled up as the synchronized battered rhythm of their hearts worked overtime. A warm clash of their lips as her front softly pressed against his and her arms snaked invitingly around his nape. She can taste the whiskey that stains his breath in an oddly arousing and quelling way.

His calloused hands rested against her ribcage and gradually slid around to the bow of her spine carefully before sliding up to unclasp her bra with deft ease. He thumbed over and pulled her nipples as their lips persisted working in tandem in this fervid lip lock, coaxing a series of soft melodic muffled moans from her throat. He continued his ministrations before pulling back, his half-lidded eyes flickering between hers before kneeling as his hands slid down her thighs gradually.

“Please,” He breathily begged as he stared up at her as if she were the infamous martyr Himself, though Dean isn’t fond of religious conceptualization. (That’s not the crux of the matter.) His timbre is rough around the edges even while hushed, “I’m damn good at it.” His pretty eyes flutter shut and he plants soft kisses up to her panty line that’s calling him to tug and tug until her panties are the final thing off of her.

“Oh? Yeah, show me then.” That uttered word of consent had her panties pooling around her ankles in a blink and she promptly stepped out of them only for Dean to stand and grip the back of her thighs to hoist her up and carry her to the edge of the bed as his gaze bored into hers; pupils blown wide and filled with titillation. Once she settled, so did he, and he lifted her right leg while holding down the inside of the left leg as he delved in with a preliminary lap of his flattened tongue. He soon swirled his tongue around her sensitive bundle of nerves before sucking, his verdant eyes still locked on hers underneath his long, dark brunette lashes. He could feel her slight trembling and her muscles flexing underneath the fleshy pads of his fingers already, and he loved it.

He gets greedy far too quickly. He's pulling her impossibly closer with the bare muscular arm that’s looped around one leg, bullying his tongue past her labia as his nose gently rubs against her throbbing clit. A sweetened soft gasp inhaled from between her kiss bruised lips and a soft curse—“Fuck,”—as the pleasure washes over her. Her fingers threaded through his short cropped dark blonde hair and tugged with wanton desperation. His tongue meticulously worked and bred the ruination of her. “So good,” his admittance muffled into her pussy. The obscene slurping and muffled grunts from him that filled the room were whorish and sent vibrations through her.

She couldn’t help herself as he strummed more moans from her vocal cords and the subtle bucking of her hips. They’re both greedy. For more reciprocity, for more friction. More, more, more. And God he’s so mean because he’s pulling back with slicked lips and just when she’d established a rhythm. And she was going to voice that until he got really nice. His burly hands rested against her hips as she maneuvered and adjusted them to hover above his lips, he promptly tugged her down leaving no room for anxiety. His lips and tongue latched on between her inner thighs like he’s committed to this (well, he is.) and it’s evident.

“That’s it.” He breathily mutters when she begins grounding her hips down in demanding near hypnotic circles again, it’s nearly unintelligible and doesn’t reach your ears, it’s lost between the sounds of his tongue lapping and sucking fervorishly like he’s determined to drown right here. His hands coax her also to rock back and forth gently. Once he was sure she got it down pat, he let her use his face while he massaged the fat of her ass.

Tears began to lick at your lower lash line as the stimulation took over her once more, her head canting rearward and eyes fluttering shut. It wasn’t long before her thighs trembled and squeezed around his head to no avail.

He slapped her thigh in retaliation which resulted in a small jolt to course through her and a muffled huff of laughter from him. That brewing warmth that closed in on your navel snapped like a faulty rope and a near harmonious moan escaped you both. A soft sigh escaped her lips afterward and she blinked away the stars behind her eyes even as Dean lazily lapped his tongue a smidge longer to clean ‘er up before patting her hip gently as a nonverbal signal. He looked all proud of himself with that dopey grin with his chin and lips soaked still as she stared down at him once she settled on his chest.

“What are you grinning at?” She asked, ruffling his slightly mussed hair as if they’d known each other longer.

THE GLACIAL BREEZE OF WINTER welcomes itself inside the building as the bandmates of Rose Devil enter the venue as a collective. Always was easy to spot the bassist due to the popularization of her style in articles lately. Those tattoos near swallowing evidence of the scarred skin from hunting. All she could hear was the quiet chatter of the guys before she bailed for the exit door for a quick smoke break. She only had five minutes before they began vocal testing after setting up and testing the equipment as well.

Black shorts that rode up each time she walked and inadvertently torn fishnets in this weather would seem heinous to anyone. She couldn’t care less, it suits her. Her thick knee-high leather boots and dark long sleeve tee made up for it anyway. That flickering fire burns out between her sole and the bone-white snow before she heads back inside for a snack.

Catching an abysmal sight of your friend being devoured whole by a supernatural creature heightened the sonorous recession of your heart. Weird shit always has to happen; never a break even for the pretty women like you. You didn’t round the corner just yet, dead set against becoming levi chow next. Waiting a minute or so before approaching it, “Hey, how much time do we have left? ‘m feeling peckish, but don’t wanna rush.” And, by God, the response you get makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. The conversational rhythm is lost.

It forces a mechanical smirk then a gradual smile before responding appropriately, “Two minutes. I’m gonna head to the back room.” And without missing a beat, it departs and you can’t even think about the food anymore. You just need to whack this motherfucker til you’re content even though it’s masquerading under your friend's skin.

You kick up your pace and walk past it, accidentally brushing its shoulder along the way before entering the back room first. If you’d stop for a moment you’d see how its eyes flickered with hunger. After rummaging through your duffle, you’re soon securing protection behind your back within seconds. You’ve dealt with these things before, they just were never wearing someone close to you. The moment it opens the door you’re squirting borax onto its face from an opaque squeeze bottle, heart stuttering as smoke wafts from burning skin and it elicits a guttural shrill before brandishing your signature ax bass and beheading it with calculated precision.

“Shit ‘m so sorry,” the cadence of your voice shakily executed. All you can see is him even while being cognizant of that antediluvian monster you just avoided by a breath's width.

It was borderline paradoxical. To feel the relief of being alive, to be minorly afraid of what’s next after this. The devastation within when it’s the face of someone you know or it’s actually them at the sharp end. But, being a hunter is nothing short of sadomasochism.

Something shifts in the air—a crushing weight of unease—and for a moment you don’t get what it is until there’s more of them. Hustling like soldiers and the scent of iron, rot, and flesh battles the heady scent of you. You’re ready even though you’re trembling with adrenaline. One by one, their vessel's heads are torn from their bodies with spurting ectoplasmic obsidian blood from their esophageal root. You’re knockin’ ‘em down like a human guillotine. One by one, they’re trying to devour you wholly out of defense and you’re nearly slipping on the sleek borax against the tiled floor. One manages to knock you back, the crown of your ax getting caught on a wooden surface.

You grip the handle as it slides the sharpened end against the surface, trying to catch your neck underneath it while only succeeding in ripping the cheap wood into pieces. You stare at it head on, gritting your teeth. You rested your hand on the back of its head, forcing it to cant its head forward til’ the barrier dissolves when you meet it halfway. Biting down roughly on its nose enough to tear, spitting out the inky substance painted flesh. Your wild eyes and Leviathan blood decorated canines made you look like an animal.

Opportunistically you’re securely grasping the handle of the axe as it stumbles back in agony and chopping its head clean off, near stumbling as its head joins the rest. You can’t give yourself a minute, not a damn second—tossing your weapon over and grabbing the large burgundy velveteen drawstring bag you keep it in with trembling hands and taking each head by its hair and tossing it inside. Going home after that warzone unable to verbalize and having to organize for tickets to be refunded to a huge host of people was like a one-way trip to purgatory in itself.

That smell that clung onto you wouldn’t pass—marine and incense. The darkness of the blood seeped profusely through your clothes and it wouldn’t easily leave your skin. So raw as it finally sloughs off after scrubbing your skin with soap as the lukewarm water cascades down your bare body.

The smell of charred remnants burrowed into the walls of the venue, a fragrance they release post-death with a base note of the sea. You’re the only thing that survived there that evening.

Dean stood to his full stature up from a crouched position, gaze flickering over at his younger brother. “Well, there’s no heads.” Thinking it is one thing, saying that just makes him Sherlock Holmes. But, Sam swallows that quip behind pearly whites. “Then why were we called? He said it was Leviathan activity, but the only thing I saw about this place online was that a concert was supposed to be here.” Sam finally responded as confusion found purchase on his countenance.

“Lucky bastards didn’t make it though.” Dean murmurs, rough timbre cutting through the air after a beat as they look around the room and notice the aftermath.

“Exactly. Well, the crowd didn’t. The band did.”

“Is that why he said the hunter that called in used a guitar as a weapon? Doesn’t make sense though, those things can’t cut heads off.”

Before another word could be uttered, the double doors to the venue opened. They rose their guns, hearts strumming steadfastly, and in came her. She looked barely copacetic and battle worn, evidently exhausted from nearly biting the dust; with somewhat tousled tresses and newly developed eye bags. She didn’t hesitate to state her name and why she was there without even raising her hands. Dean lowered his gun the moment he caught sight of her, Sam had his up for a little longer before following suit.

“I’m assuming you two got the run down already?”

Dean just stared at her starstruck and Sam gave her a once over that wasn’t the least bit subtle. “Damn.” Their response was simultaneously, rolled off of their tongues before either could catch it and she levels them with an incredulous look. Dean blinks before looking over at Sam who politely clears his throat before forcing an awkward gentle smile on his rosy lips. She still can’t tell if they meant that negatively or otherwise.

The pair excused themselves and you curtly nodded and stepped away yourself to opportunistically make a phone call to your other bandmates to apologize and offer to explain yourself later when it was a good time.

“Do you remember that Saturday a few months back when I went to that nice bar after a hunt? The one with the sleek marble counters that lit up and they had a pool table? That’s the woman that invited me back to that nice hotel. I called her Cherry Delight.”

“Cherry delight?” Sam parroted. “Man, I’m friggin’ telling you that’s her,” Dean stressed, but Sam was monomaniacally focused on the fact that he’d referred to you as that. He didn’t even want to ask why, he figured the rest and didn’t want it accompanied by mental images. “You didn’t know she was a hunter when you slept with her?” He elicited a scoff and cocked a brow, “No idea.” Dean affirmed.

She journeyed over to the pair and spoke to the youngest and then the eldest Winchester respectively, “Sam, Dean. As you know, there was an arsenal of those incandescent big mouth bastards on my crew and one of them was my members. So, sorry if you wanted to see the show, but that’s canceled.” She quipped, relaxation barely curling around her timbre and that forced gentle smile gave the impression she didn’t even recognize Dean the way he knew her or didn’t bother voicing it. But, Dean is Dean after all. So he’s gonna call it out.

“You, uh, remember me, right? I’ve seen you before today.” He gives her a once over, of course, he’d never forget thighs like those when they locked around his head like a magnet to steel. Then the memory renders along her forefront, “Oh, yeah… now I remember you. Hell of an eater.” Dean smirks to himself with a huff out of laughter, looks like he’s gonna say something just as suggestive, but Sam butts in like a bull head on. “So, what’d you whack their heads off with? I thought I heard somethin’ about a guitar–”

“Bass guitar,” She interrupted, “and yeah, but not the one I perform with. I have an ax bass I made myself with symbols engraved on it to bludgeon demon freaks.” And Dean’s green eyes beaconed wide a fraction like he’d just won the lottery. He instantaneously thought you were a badass hunter. “The one I perform with is from Japan and it was gifted to me by a band member. It’s called the ultimate archangel guitar. Sounds cool, right?”

© 2025 DRIEDROSESANDCHERRY I stress that you do not repost, translate, alter, or plagiarize my content on any platform, including—but not limited to—my theme. You are welcome to take inspiration as long as you ask me directly and have my consent. I will likely say yes, but there’s no guarantee.

[scientistservant]

Here are mine! They're all under the cut!

Neon - ONE OK ROCK

Neon lights Shinin' bright on the innocent Shibuya nights Burnin' brighter than the sun Neon lights What a time to be livin' in Shibuya nights Live forever till the morning comes Gettin' it all for free, livin' a strung-out dream Livin' a fantasy Neon lights Shinin' bright on the innocent Every one of them Neon lights

This one is mainly for the Keroro Platoon as a whole but I felt like it fits (there’s also one little moment where “Shibuya~” is said and it sounds very much like Keroro lol)

I Can Go The Distance (Disney DDR version)

I have often dreamed Of a far-off place Where a hero’s welcome will be waiting for me Where the crowds will cheer when they see my face And a voice keeps saying “This is where I'm meant to be” I’ll be there some day I can go the distance I can find my way If I can be strong I know every mile will be worth my while When I go the distance I’ll be right where I belong

I remember seeing an AMV of Keroro and his platoon with this song like a decade or so ago and I’ve associated it with him ever since

In Too Deep - Sum 41

The faster we're fallin', we're stoppin' and stallin' We're runnin' in circles again Just as things were lookin' up, you said it wasn't good enough But still, we're tryin' one more time Maybe we're just trying too hard When really, it's closer than it is too far 'Cause I'm in too deep, and I'm trying to keep Up above in my head, instead of going under 'Cause I'm in too deep, and I'm trying to keep Up above in my head, instead of going under

Underclass Hero - Sum 41

Well, I won't be caught living in a dead end job (job) While praying to my government, guns, and God (god) Now it's us against them We're here to represent And spit right in the face of the establishment And now I don't believe (in having faith in nothing!) Stand on my own (got no sympathy!) Wasting the youth (while being young and useless!) Speak for yourself (and don't pray for me!) Well, because we're doing fine And we don't need to be told that we're doing fine 'Cause we won't give you control And we don't need anything from you 'Cause we'll be just fine And we won't be bought and sold just like you

Motivation - Sum 41

Motivation's such an aggravation Accusations, don't know how to take them Inspiration's getting hard to fake it Concentration, never hard to break it Situation never what you want it to be What's the point of never making mistakes? Self-indulgence, such a hard habit to break It's all just a waste of time in the end Don't care, so why should I even pretend?

Putting all of the Sum 41 songs together ‘cause I feel they fit Keroro’s character well, especially with his struggles.

Now for my boy Kururu, even though you didn’t ask for it (]@=@[)

Neo-Tokyo - Scandroid

Neon lights glisten off the streets The moonlight swallowed up by breathing electricity Salvation hovers in the sky Dream of a life inside while we escape just to survive Let go, take flight Dreams begin to reignite So clear, so bright We're glowing in the dead of night Plug in, online The datastream linking our minds Circuits entwined We'll dream of Neo-Tokyo tonight

Future Brain - Confrontation

Stockin' away all the details you want to know Day after day all your memories get to grow Putting all that you've stolen In a prison that you've locked forever Taking the place of our imagination But you won't erase my heart There is no way you can understand what I feel You never pray 'cause your soul isn't even real You might know lots of things now But you can never be a lover Winning the race with your information But you can't replace my soul

The last four are by Depeche Mode and good lord I feel the singer's voice is PERFECT for Kururu, so good!!

Policy of Truth - Depeche Mode

You had something to hide Should have hidden it, shouldn't you? Now you're not satisfied With what you're being put through It's just time to pay the price For not listening to advice And deciding in your youth On the policy of truth Things could be so different now It used to be so civilized You will always wonder how It could have been if you'd only lied

These last three are very self ship heavy, just figure I’d warn you asfhdgd

World In My Eyes - Depeche Mode (the Cicada Mix is my favourite)

Let me take you on a trip Around the world and back And you won't have to move, you just sit still Now let your mind do the walking And let my body do the talking Let me show you the world in my eyes I'll take you to the highest mountain To the depths of the deepest sea And we won't need a map, believe me Now let my body do the moving And let my hands do the soothing Let me show you the world in my eyes

Sweetest Perfection - Depeche Mode

The sweetest perfection to call my own The slightest correction couldn't finely hone The sweetest infection of body and mind Sweetest injection of any kind I stop and I stare too much Afraid that I care too much And I hardly dare to touch For fear that the spell may be broken When I need a drug in me And it brings out the thug in me Feel something tugging me Then I want the real thing, not tokens

It’s No Good - Depeche Mode

I'm going to take my time I have all the time in the world to make you mine It is written in the stars above The gods decree You'll be right here by my side Right next to me You can run but you cannot hide Don't say you want me Don't say you need me Don't say you love me It's understood Don't say you're happy Out there without me I know you can't be 'Cause it's no good I'll be fine I'll be waiting patiently 'Til you see the signs And come running to my open arms When will you realize? Do we have to wait 'til our worlds collide?

what songs does everyone associate with keroro (the character) im very curious to know if anyone feels like sharing

[kaurwreck]

y'all do Gin, Higuchi, Hirotsu, Tachihara, Chuuya, Dazai, and Mori so dirty with the way you talk about who cares about Akutagawa and who doesn't.

[musclesandhammering]

An interesting thing we don’t really go into is how, even after the TVA workers have their memories shown to them, they still don’t actually remember their lives on the timeline.

B-15 said “I looked happy” not “I remember being happy”, Mobius watched his family with admiration but no recognition, C-20 talked about her time in the bar like a revelation but one without any nostalgia attached to it, Brad acted more like a doppelgänger who bumped his twin off and stole his life rather than a guy reclaiming his own, etc.

It’s very subtle but it really adds to the feeling of them genuinely being seperate entities from their sacred timeline selves. Like, Mobius was right when he said it’s not his life, this [the TVA] is.

[likedbyuarmyhope]

when namjoon said bts and army have created a world of our own that no one else could possibly understand i knew exactly what he meant. we’ve unlocked a new kind of love that no one else has ever felt before

[gaza-giving-tree]

Video: Hossam Al-Qazzaz has recently given us a glimpse of a day in the life of his family through a video he sent to us, featuring his infant daughter Habiba, son Bashar, and other daughter Diana. Despite their living conditions, Hossam does his best to keep his children's spirits high.

@hanon-qazaz

Story written by @rumiandroses

Imagine being born into a world where the first sounds you hear are explosions, the hum of drones, and the cries of your family fleeing for their lives. This is the reality for Habiba Al-Qazzaz, a precious baby girl who has known nothing but war, displacement, and hunger in her short life. Born in Gaza amidst the ongoing conflict that began on October 7, 2023, Habiba has spent much of her existence so far in uncertainty, hunger, and fear.

This precious little girl is not even a year old, and already, she has suffered through unimaginable hardship.

Her parents, Hossam and Hanan Al-Qazzaz, are doing everything they can to care for Habiba and her three siblings—Bashar (9), Hani (8), and Diana (4). But the relentless devastation of Gaza’s infrastructure has made survival nearly impossible. With no stable income and essential supplies priced beyond reach, the Al-Qazzaz family is fighting a daily battle just to keep their children warm, fed, and safe.

Their GoFundMe campaign has been their only lifeline, allowing them to afford the most basic necessities—food, water, milk for Habiba. Yet despite the thousands of people who have seen and shared their plea, donations have been coming in at a painfully slow pace. Since last year, they have managed to raise only €2,000, an amount tragically short of their €55,000 goal—the sum they had hoped would allow them to evacuate to Egypt with Hossam’s elderly parents and start anew.

Forced to Live on Top of Rubble

Images: (Top) Bashar, Hani, and Diana, still able to smile in spite of the devastation they've been forced to endure. (Bottom) Hossam Al-Qazzaz, as he does his best to clear their destroyed home of debris to make it slightly more suitable for habitation.

As time passed and donations fell short, the family was forced to abandon their dreams of escape. Instead, they now live atop the ruins of their destroyed home, sheltered only by a fragile tent that does little to protect them from the cold, roaming animals, or the ever-present danger of violence. Their reality is bleak, and their options are running out.

On February 8, 2025, Hanan reached out to us with an update on her family's condition:

Image: Hanan's update message to us, informing us of her family's current condition.

The freezing temperatures persist. Her children are crying for warmth in a shelter that provides no protection from the elements.

This is Not a Call for Comfort—It’s a Plea for Survival!

The Al-Qazzaz family is NOT asking for luxuries. They are asking for the bare minimum:

🧤🧣Warmth for their children.

🍞💧 Food and clean water.

🏠🚪A secure shelter.

With further violence looming, the time to act is NOW.

How You Can Help

🔹 Donate to the Al-Qazzaz Family’s GoFundMe to help provide food, warmth, and shelter for Habiba and her family. Every contribution—no matter how small—makes an impact. [DONATE HERE] 🍞💧🍼🧦🧣🧤🏥

🔹 Support the Chuffed Campaign created by our founder, Bethany-Grace, as an additional fundraiser to help the family rebuild their lives. This ensures they don’t have to choose between saving money for the future and feeding their children today. [DONATE HERE] 🌱🏠🛫🕊️

🔹 If you cannot donate, PLEASE share this post. The more people see their story, the greater the chance of reaching someone who can help. EVERY like, share, and repost helps.

The Al-Qazzaz family’s campaign has been vetted by @gazavetters and is #287 on their list of verified campaigns.

A Family of Resilience and Kindness

Hossam Al-Qazzaz is also the cousin of Falestine Asad, another courageous individual struggling to keep her infant child safe in war-torn Gaza. Both Hossam and Falestine are some of the kindest and humblest people you will ever meet. If you can, we encourage you to view and share both of their campaigns, and to donate if possible.

Together, we can help the Al-Qazzaz family find the security, warmth, and stability they so desperately need.

No child should have to suffer like these poor babies have.

Let’s all be part of the reason they make it through another day, and into a brighter, more peaceful future. 🙏🏻🕊️💗

[coweye]

The Worst Logan

Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 5.8k words

Summary: You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life. Sweet dick kicking angst with gratuitous smut, cause we all know Logan eats pussy like a CHAMP. 😤

This is self indulgence at its finest, but it had be to done. 7-years ago, the movie Logan broke something within me that has finally been fixed! 🤠💕

Warning: Explicit - smut. canon death, depression, angst, spoilers for Logan / Wolverine and deadpool, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, creampie, all the good stuff. 18+

The first time you see him again, the new him, the other him you mean. It’s in the cave accompanied by a man who talks far too much.

You recognise his voice in an instant when the mouth finally allows him to get a word in edgeways. His voice. 

You’ve heard it nearly every night for the past seven years. It's a few octaves deeper than you remember and filled to the brim with vitriol but it's definitely his. The realisation that your memory has been warped by time is a blow to the gut but you continue towards the sound all the same.

When finally you round the corner Logan stands before you in all his glory. For a moment you are rendered utterly unable to form a single sentence as he leans against the wall, a bottle of bourbon in his palm and adorned in yellow and blue.

Your mind can't reconcile this figure as the man you buried. He has the same sneer, the same broad shoulders, he even has the same stance - but Logan, your Logan, would rather die than wear that garish yellow suit and admit to being the hero he always was. 

His nose flares in what you believe to be recognition as he smells your presence, you allow your powers to retreat and reveal yourself. As your invisibility ebbs away Logan snarls in surprise as the talkative man in red gasps theatrically and begins jumping on the spot. 

Your fears are proven well founded when your eyes connect with his across the room, instead of the love and recognition, you find only open hostility and rage.

Your heart had bulldozed all logic, you were in the fucking void, of course it was a variant.

This Logan looks younger; his hair not so grey, his face unscarred and his eyes not so tired. 

This not-quite-Logan stares right back at you seemingly ill at ease with the stranger who is currently taking an inventory of his face. 

“Logan, that's them. It’s X-23 and Y/N, the one’s I told you about.” You graze your palm along your daughter's back in support as you come to stand beside her. 

“Her name is Laura.” It’s a knee jerk reaction; your correction. Your girl wasn’t the sum total of an experiment, she was her own person with her own thoughts and feelings, not a weapon to be utilised. 

The Wolverine’s gaze darts between the two of you, it’d be comical if you didn’t feel like you were about to regurgitate your lunch. They land on Laura, and linger there for a few moments, before they return to you, it's as if he’s trying to find you in her features. 

You barely hear the man you will later come to know fondly as Wade Wilson, question how you all ended up in the void.

“There was a knock at the door TVA sent me here, saying my world was dying … and I never even got the chance to fight for it.” Blade explains remorsefully. 

“They sent us here because they knew we’d put up a fight.” You utter distractedly, finally breaking your staring contest with Logan as he takes a swig from the bottle he’s currently white knuckling. 

“People like us don’t go quietly, TVA knows that so they took us out.” Elektra attests.

“The answer is yes, I’m in.” Wade declares.

“In what?” Blade questions bemused by the man in red. 

“A team up, you me, me you, all of us together, lets get the fuck outta’ here.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a fucking liar!” Logan growls, furious at the other man. 

“It was an educated wish!”

“HA!” The loathing behind it makes you pause, he was so angry. 

The heat in his voice, the resentment, it burns you. You supposed even your Logan had his fair share of rage.  

When he arrived at the mansion all those years ago, fresh faced and wild, you had adored him even then, though Logan was far too preoccupied with Jean to notice the torch you carried for him back then.

It was ironic that It had taken the utter annihilation of the X-Men to bring you together. Charles’ accident had left the two of you as sole survivors. Over the years in hiding your ability to mould force fields managed to keep the worst of the effects of Charles’ seizures at bay, but Charles Xavier was one of the most powerful telepaths to grace the earth and your powers had limits. 

Those years were some of the darkest and yet the best of your life, you found yourself growing to love the man the world called The Wolverine.

You realise you’ve entirely tuned out Wade’s rousing speech and have spent the time analysing the man wearing your love’s face currently gargling bourbon though your name pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Laura, Y/N? What’s it gonna’ be girlies?” 

“Lets fucking go.” Laura agrees heartily, you simply nod still dazed. 

“YES! LET’S FUCKING GO!” Wade shouts back fist pumping. 

“You’re all fucking dead.”

Much later in the evening when the sun has finally set you seek him out. When you come across the father and daughter duo before the campfire you hold back, your skin slowly begins reflecting light, fading from vision as you call upon your powers to hide in the treeline. 

They both needed this and it wasn’t something you were about to get in the way of. They talk for a little while, before they part ways, both a little teary. Laura nods your way despite being unable to see you as she heads back to the cave, her nose just as keen as her fathers. 

So it shouldn’t surprise you a few moments later when you hear Logan's voice call across the clearing.

“You gonna’ stand there all night, Bub?” The man sounds utterly exhausted. 

You say nothing in response, only dismissing your powers and revealing yourself as you advance. You take Laura’s seat at the fire, not quite having the courage to look at him just yet. 

“You hear all that? Should mind your own damn business.” You remembered this Logan well, the one aching for a fight, desperate to shed his vulnerability and bloody his fists. 

“I didn’t hear a thing, Logan.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, you haven’t had to gentle parent The Wolverine in a while but it’s like riding a bike. “I wanted to let the two of you talk, she needed it and I think maybe you did too.”

“What do you fuckin’ know.” He growls dismissively, swigging from his bottle of what now appears to be scotch. “You can skip the speech and go back up, I’m not looking for company.” 

“I’m not here to tell you what to do, Logan.” Finally, you look away from the fire and find his eyes fixed on you, you swallow the lump in your throat before you speak. “I just wanted to see you.”

“See me?” He questions incredulously. “Well, keep the change, bub. Good night.”

Despite your smile at his words, you can’t help the tears that begin to cloud your eyes. Your mind and your heart have been locked in a constant battle since setting eyes on him. This man by all rights is Logan. The man you have mourned relentlessly and yet in every way that matters he isn’t.

“It’s like seeing a ghost.” Is the only explanation you can give him, his response is a stoic cheers with his bottle before he takes a deep gulp. 

Finally either his curiosity or the alcohol gets the better of him as he questions. “You her Mother?” 

“Yes and no.” His stare doesn’t leave your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “Her biological mother was a woman from Mexico City that the fuckers in the lab exploited, all we know is that she disappeared after giving birth. After … you … after everything that happened in North Dakota…” You trail off.

Your voice is suddenly thick and your words get stuck in your throat as you try to make them form. It's utterly embarrassing as you feel the traitor tears begin to form. 

A bottle of Johnny Walker enters your field of vision from where you sit staring at your clasped hands in your lap. Startled, you glance up to find the Wolverine standing before you, casting an impossibly large shadow as he holds out the bottle.

You accept the offering from his gloved hand, your fingers grazing his in the transaction as you take a swig or two (or three) before passing it back. He looks thoughtful when he places his lips on the place where your own had just lingered, as he retakes his seat. With amber courage coursing your veins, you continue. 

“She was all I had - if not for her, I-.” You wipe your nose, staring back into the fire. If it was a struggle to meet his eyes before, it was impossible for you now.  “I just couldn’t see the point in being alive anymore if everything just slowly gets stripped away; the X-Men, then Charles and then Lo-” 

You don’t know it, but you’re preaching to the fucking choir with your words. It was rare to find a soul, going through the exact same torture as yourself. Logan found himself softening to you, it was as involuntary as it was unwelcome, but he couldn’t help it as you described a battle so close to the one he fought daily. 

“-she reminded me what I had to live for. Laura she is fierce and so fucking kind; she is everything I loved about him.” You cut your trauma dumping to a swift end as you remember yourself. “So no, to answer your question. I’m not her biological mother, but she’s my daughter in every way that counts.”

Silence reigns for a moment as neither one of you knows what to say to the other. 

“You loved him?” Logan’s voice is deeper than before when he speaks the sentence. You raise your eyes from the fire to find his for the first time since you began monologuing. They’re filled with something you can’t quite name.

“I did.”

Logan seems to contemplate this, mulling it over as he continues drinking. Finally, he seems to reach some sort of conclusion.  “You should get some sleep, big day for you tomorrow.”

“Can I stay here … with you for tonight?” The words slip out before you really even mean them to. Tomorrow you might be going to your death and the ghost of the love of your life is here alive and real, what do you really have to lose?

Logan does a double take, not quite expecting those to be the words that leave your lips. “I’m not him, Darlin’.”

“No, I suppose you’re not.” You sigh, “but could you please just hold me whilst I sleep, James?”

A huge part of you expects him to tell you to fuck off back to the cave and leave him to his booze fueled pity party. However, against all odds, he doesn’t do that. 

Logan simply lifts the half full bottle of scotch to his lips and downs every last drop. He’s a little unsteady on his feet when finally he stands up to his full height and turns towards the blankets he’s laid out on the ground. 

“Fuck it.” He growls and drops himself like a sack of potatoes onto the pile with little regard for his own body. You’ve certainly had nicer invitations into his bed but when he waves you over with a lazy gesture, you can’t help but hurry before he changes his mind. 

Before you know it you’re tucked into Logan’s side. His gloved hand doesn’t quite seem to know where to go, more accustomed to brutality than tenderness these days as it hesitates for a moment suspended in the air. After some careful consideration he delicately places it on the dip in your waist securing you to him. 

Logan’s breath is uneven, though he’s doing his best to seem unaffected by your closeness. It has been years since someone has touched him with such easy affection and the way your body curls around his own as if it was created to do just that is driving him crazy. 

You are completely at ease with him, you trust him so entirely it almost breaks his fucking heart. Logan's stomach is heavy with something he can’t name, you fucking terrify him. Yet, he doesn’t move because you feel so fucking good as he holds you. 

It's scary, you realise, how easy it would be to pretend this was your Logan as you melt into his embrace. He smells exactly the same as you bury your face in his neck, the roughness of his beard feels the same pressed against your forehead. 

This Wolverine’s arms are a little fuller and his chest a little firmer, but he still holds you the same. You make a decision to not focus on such difficult philosophical concepts as variants and the morality of switching out your Wolverine. You decide to live in the moment, to just enjoy the furnace of his body keeping you warm and his arm encircling your waist protecting you from the world, it’s so easy to pretend that this was your Logan, so you do. 

And you fall asleep quicker than you have in years.

It is still night when you awaken, it's not quite dawn but the fire has burned out to a low smoulder. You’re not sure what has awoken you from the best sleep you’ve had in a long while, that is until you feel the arms wrapped around you and the sleeping Wolverine holding you in a death grip against his chest, his half hard appendage digging into your hip. 

Everything is still hazy; you’re floating in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming, you forget about North Dakota and, god forgive me, Laura. 

You’re back in your bed at home and Logan is holding you.

There's no my logan, new logan, old logan. 

He’s just Logan. 

You bury yourself deeper in his neck. 

It’s only for a moment though before it all comes flooding back and the agony overwhelms you like a blade to the gut. 

Instantly tears flood your cheeks as you shake from your silent sobs. 

“...Y/N?” Logan's voice is thick with confusion and sleep, his grip has loosened somewhat to allow you to breathe but he doesn’t release his hold on you. “What’s wrong darlin’?” 

That affectionate name is the last nail in the coffin it fucking ends you. 

All teary, and regrettably maybe a teensy bit snotty, you lean forward and kiss him. Kiss isn’t the right word but it’s your intention. Your lips touch one anothers before he’s pulling away and holding you back. 

“Y/n… Darlin’ you don’t want this… I’m not-”

“But you are Logan. You’re him just as much as he’s you.” Your hands rise to his jaw, running your finger along its familiar sharp edge. “You’re Logan.”

“Y/N… I’d be taking advantage…” His voice is firm yet gruff as he tries to inject reason into the conversation. As usual being the good guy he’s constantly telling everyone he’s not. 

“I am so goddamn sick and tired of being sad, please Logan.” This time when you capture his lips, he doesn’t rear back. You’re not sure what’s going through his mind, but his self control seems to snap within him as he begins returning the kiss in earnest.

Logan’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip begging entry, entry you swiftly allow. You’re breathing heavily through your nose as he plunders the depths of your mouth, exploring your mouth with his quick tongue. 

Deciding to make the next move you push yourself up, throwing a leg over him to straddle his lower stomach. He’s lifted the top half of his body to ensure he doesn’t lose your mouth, your teeth clash slightly with the movement and you can’t help a bubble of nervous laughter.  He pays it little mind though as he swallows the noise, his hands coming to rest on your hips. 

Instantly, you grind your hips downward on the growing bulge that lurks below. Logan lets out a deep groan at the friction and his hands on your hips raise to the bottom of your tee in response, his thick hands tugging at it requesting your permission.

Nodding, you pull back causing him to groan at the loss of your hot mouth on his. Though it's only for a moment as the second the tee is over your head, he’s back on you, only it's your bare neck he’s lashing with affection now.

Logan breathes in deep your scent mixing with the heady aroma of your arousal. He’s nipping and licking along the smooth skin, soothing his bites as quickly he makes them. It's the animal instinct within him, telling him to devour you entirely; make you his. 

“Logan…” You gasp, your eyes are clenched shut in pleasure as he bucks his hips upwards into your jean covered centre.  

Logan pulls back to take you in, writhing above him in the moonlight, you’re fucking beautiful, though the flash of familiar metal between your breasts catches his eye, unable to stop himself, he catches it in his fist. 

Dog tags; his old dog tags.

‘LOGAN’ is etched into the aged metal and they’re warm to the touch from living beneath your shirt over your heart. 

The realisation hits him like a freight train, not only was he loved by you, but for his other self to have given you these, he fucking loved you. 

He’s not sure why it didn’t occur to him before, that the other him was as devoted to you as you were to him. He’s not entirely sure how to feel about it, but he twists his hands, careful not to snap the metal string, but using it to pull you close. 

For the other dead Logan, the hero he’s heard so goddamn much about, he decides he’ll give you the treatment you deserve. 

As if you weigh nothing at all he flips you onto your back, his hands dropping the dog tags and falling to the waistband of your jeans. His dexterous hands undo the button so quickly, that your trousers are peeled from your legs before you know it, leaving you in an unimpressive unmatching set of underwear beneath his roaming eyes. Though Logan couldn’t give a fuck as he groans at the sight of your body exposed to him. 

Logan begins by kissing down your stomach before his hands linger on your black panties, he can't help but grin at the tiny barely there bow in the middle of them; you’re like a gift all wrapped up for him. 

His eyes lift to meet your own as he begins sucking at the fabric that's keeping your pussy from him, it's already damp with your arousal and by the time he finishes, absolutely sodden with his saliva.

“Logan, please…” you whisper desperately as your hands find his ‘tufts’ for a lack of a better word. They were new, but you liked them, plus they now seemed pretty functional. 

He takes only a moment to remove his gloves, before they return eagerly to your body. Those thick hands traverse the planes of your thighs, they’re quick in their passing as they make their way up to the waistband of your panties, he hooks them over his thumb and reveals your soaking core to his hungry eyes and he’s right back to wanting to fucking devour you, and boy, fucking does he. 

Enthusiastic, would be the word, earth-shattering would be another - the word to describe how Logan eats pussy.

Logan without much preamble dives into your centre, his tongue slips into your hot wet heat, lingering for a moment on your clit, circling it reverently before he dips that talented tongue inside of you. His nose knocks against your clit several times, each more delicious than the last as he utterly devours your pussy. He moans, grinding his hips into the dirt and readjusts pulling you closer, his thick muscled arms locking under your thighs as you buck against his mouth. 

You're a complete goner the second he slips a single long thick finger inside of you. 

“Fuck, Lo, I’m gonna-” 

“Come, baby... I got’ya.” He mumbles into your pussy. And fuck me, he does. He carries on lapping at you all the way through your orgasm, drawing it out of you like the pied fucking piper of pussy. It feels like you’ve been falling for hours by the time you finally come down, only Logan doesn’t allow you any reprieve before he’s back to lashing your clit with his quick tongue. Your hands find those faux ear tufts once more and he groans as you pull on them a little more sharply than you intend in your shock, in answer Two fingers bury themselves deep inside of you.

“One more.” He’s negotiating orgasms, but you have no qualms as he rubs his nose side to side with affection against your sensitive bud. His tongue and nose moving in pace with his fingers, currently fucking in and out of you. 

It's when he scissors those thick long fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot within you that makes your back arch. 

Your top half has left the ground, he grunts in annoyance, suspending your hips back to his mouth at the angle he likes. Those deep hazel eyes meet yours from between your thighs, crazed and animalistic, driven wild with arousal as he eats your pussy with gusto.

It's that image that thrusts you over the edge once more, your back hitting the ground as your body seizes, thrusting your hips against his mouth. 

Without any preamble a third finger joins stretching you deliciously. The hand not currently fucking you, leaves your hip to caress your stomach stroking the flesh there, not quite able to reach your breast. 

“Lo… fuck… yes… right… right fucking there.” You cry as he draws your second orgasm of the night out, only when you tug at his tuft due to overstimulation does he acquiesce and pull back, only of course, after cleaning up your gaping desperate hole. 

He sucks his fingers clean as he sits back on his knees, his cock thick and tenting against the yellow bottoms of his suit. Your arousal has soaked through his beard making his chin slick, he wipes it with a single swipe with the back of hand though, it does very little for his sodden chin. 

Tired of not touching him, you sit forward grabbing at his belt. It's a difficult contraption that confounds you, though Logan is far too wound up to find any humour from it. 

 He replaces your hands unbuckling the thing before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. 

There, finally in all his glory, he is exposed to you and you’ve never been a religious woman, but Mary mother of fucking christ, he is gorgeous. Logan’s chest is fucking… transcendant to behold, it's like he’s been sculpted by god herself, the light isn’t the best out of here, but you hope to god you don’t die tomorrow simply for wanting to take your time and lick each and every single one of those muscles on his stomach. 

Its your turn to leap forward onto your knees and join his mouth with yours, he tastes distinctly of you and his chin is still sodden, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, you love the fact your desire is still marking his skin. 

Your hands trace the firm abs at your disposal, before dipping into his now open trousers and underwear to find him rock hard. 

If his physique impressed you, you had a big storm coming, because his cock was a fucking resplendant beauty and it was plain to see from the swelling Logan really liked eating pussy. 

Your fingers barely touched as you pumped him, once twice, spreading the copious amounts of precum along his shaft.

“Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth. You lean down, positioning yourself to take him in your mouth, though he stops you in your tracks grabbing your shoulder. “No sweetheart, I want your pussy.” You clench around nothing at his filthy words, this man will be the fucking death of you. 

You reach behind you and free your tits from their confines, another moan leaves his throat as he pushes you backwards. On his hands and knees he’s deliberate with every move as kicks the bottoms of his suit off as he prowls towards you.

Finally, he’s in between your legs naked as the day he was born. His hands are on your breasts, exploring the new plains exposed to him, playing with your nipples alternating between sucking and twirling them between his fingers. 

So lost in his skilled hands, you barely notice when one disappears to line himself up, it's a shock, the sudden intrusion, but not an unwelcome one as he thrusts himself forward and as deep as he can go. 

You moan his name into his ear, doing your best to keep your volume down.

He has prepared you well, you’re so worked up that he slides home through your tight slit. The sheer size of him means it's a stretch that borders on uncomfortable, but the second his hand finds your clit you’re clenching around him and grinding forward, desperate for more. Unable to control himself, his claws extend, he grunts pulling you close and thrusting them down into the ground. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts into your neck, where he's busy lavishing the flesh once again with bites. Your neck is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck.

The two of you are so fucking close his bare skin so deliciously hot against your own, but you want more, you need more.

Logan pulls his hips backwards, pulling out of you until only the tip remains before slamming home and spearing you wide open his cock. Your moans blend together as you lose yourself in each other's bodies.

Logan is worked up from eating your cunt, so it doesn’t take long for the sensation to hit him.

“Fuck, where do you want it?” He grunts into your neck, as his hand descends to rub quick circles on your clit. He pulls your ass up, making sure to hit the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

You know he’s teetering on the edge, desperate to make you cum before he does. 

“Inside - come inside me, baby.” You whimper into his neck as he pounds into you reaching your deepest recesses with his thick cock, his hammering, it’s unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it pushes him deeper into spots you couldn’t have imagined. He groans at your words, sounding every bit the wounded animal he is. Your shared groans and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he takes you again, and again is all that can be heard in the clearing. 

Finally as he joins your lips in a kiss, you come hard on his cock. Clenching around him as your body writhes uncontrollably. 

Logan adjusts his hold on your thighs, now he uses your body, drawing out your pleasure but ultimately chasing his own. The pace is fast as he grunts and groans erotically into your neck, he fucking growls as his hips stutter against your own, and you know you should be more careful, but the thought of him cumming inside you has you gripping his cock like a vice once more. You give him a tight sheath to come in, and he pumps you fucking full of his cum and its a big fucking load. Logan thrusts a few more times, pushing his seed deep inside of you as he claims your mouth once more.

You run your hands through his hair as he lets his body fall against yours, he’s supporting his own weight, thank god, you don’t think you could handle his muscle, let alone the adamantium skeleton. He’s still sheathed inside you as the two of you revel in the closeness.

The silence stretches on for an amount of time you can’t quite quantify. The two of you take in your surroundings, listening to the quiet of the forest, until your breathing has finally calmed down. 

Logan lifts himself up on one arm, and pushes your hair back from your face. You stare at him in the moonlight for a long moment, unable to help yourself as you trace his familiar features. His strong nose and the curve of his brow, your finger dances along his flesh. 

Logan’s eyes close, so touch starved he basks in your affection. 

“I-” Logan goes to speak, before you drop your finger on his lips.

“It’s okay. Whatever happens tomorrow, happens. I’m okay with it.” You smile at him, there's a chill to the air but you’ve got your Wolverine warming you up. “I just wanted one night to be about something other than death.”

He takes your hand from his lips and kisses along the back of it and up your wrist, though It's a slippery slope as he hardens inside of you again. 

Logan manages to pull two more orgasms out of you before dawn.

When your time has run out, the two of you finally dress, not wanting to be found in a compromising position. Logan curls his body around yours and buries his face in your hair as he spoons you from behind. 

Just when you’re just on the cusp of sleep, he finally speaks into the night. Logan opens up about his world tearfully, instantly you reach your hand down, finding his own thicker one resting on your belly and you intertwine your fingers with his. He tells you of the mutant hunting as you draw comforting circles on the back of his hand, it's not much, but it's more than he’s ever had whilst reliving his worst day. When he has finally bared his soul, the two of you fall back into silence. 

After what has been an emotionally, not to mention physically taxing night the two of you finally fall asleep if only for a few more hours, two incredibly damaged souls offering one another comfort.

It’s later in the morning when you finally awake. The sun has risen that much is clear but you're slow to awaken from your comfortable position in Logan's arms, his warm strong body coiled against your back fighting off the worst of the early morning chill, his face still buried in your hair as he snores peacefully.

There’s a sensation niggling at you, you think it's what woke you up in the first place; you can’t shake the sensation of being watched. 

Lazily you open your eyes, only for your heart to drop to your asshole when you find Wade Wilson about 10-inches from your face lying on his side, his head supported by his hand.

“Mornin’ sleepy head, have a good night?” You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“AGH!”  Unable to stop both your cry of fear and your fight or flight response in progress, you throw yourself backwards, your powers activating of their own accord, and slamming your body into Logan’s chest. He startles awake, with the telltale ‘snikt’ of his claws extending as he orientates himself, his arm coming out to block you from the threat, despite not being able to see you. 

After your brain catches up, you call your power back, but Logan doesn’t do the same, keeping his claws out seemingly ready to slice up his not-so-best friend. 

“Get the fuck outta’ here, Wade.” Logan growls harshly at the other man, his voice is filled to the brim with hatred.

“Hmph - this is what I get for acting altruistically. I thought a good stress relieving bone in the woods with your cherie amour would really sort out that bee in your bonnet, but you sir are just a very unpleasant man and I’m worried that-”

“WADE.” This time Logan’s voice is a threat as he shouts at the man. You place a hand on his muscled arm to steady him. Though he may have stopped your heart with his antics, Wade isn’t doing anything particularly outrageous.  Logan shakes your hand from his arm and allows his claws to retract as he stands. 

“Thanks for jumping to my defence there, Y/N. Great to meetcha bt-dubs, huge fan.” You’re disoriented from the wakeup call but you shake the hand he offers you.  Honestly, you’re still trying to process the head-fuckery of the past day, so you don’t have a quick response for him, though the mouth doesn’t seem to mind as he continues. “That mean lil’ lady is asking for ya’. Thought I’d come and check you and big yellow weren’t still bumpin’ uglies. Didn’t want her to see you and Papa going to town on each other's fun parts.”

“Uh - Thanks… Wade?” 

“That’s me.” He theatrically begins bestowing multiple kisses on the back of your hand he still had in his grasp, which you retract gently. “Oh, and we’re done.”

Pushing yourself up, you go to stand though Logan offers you his newly gloved palm. You lock your fingers around his and the two of you stand together, inches apart and your fingers still intertwined, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Wade’s ‘awh’ over your shoulder shatters the moment and he drops your hand instantaneously. 

After a beat or two Logan leans forward, placing a single solitary kiss on your forehead. “See ya’ around, bub.”

“Where’s my smooch, Logie-bear?”

“Go fuck yourself, Wade.” He calls as he walks around, Logan doesn’t look back as he heads off into the forest. 

You still had faith he’d turn up for the fight, Logan always turned up when it counted and you knew this time would be no different. 

“Hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.” Wade sighs linking his arm with yours. 

“Mmh, You can say that again.” You agree with the clown watching Logan’s ass as he walks away, you swear you see his step falter thanks to his impeccable hearing, but he doesn’t turn back. 

The two of you turn and you begin walking back to the cave arm in arm with the strange man to prepare for the assault on Cassandra’s lair when Wade finally asks the question you know he’s been dying to ask since meeting you “So, Y/N just between us girls… how big is it?”

LOGAN TENDER HAIR TUCK SUPREMACY RISE. I'll use it in every fic, don't think I won't.

Thanks for reading xxx

Graphics by my pal - @saradika-graphics 💕

[iamthedukeofurl]

Discworld is an interesting beast in the age of ACAB. Like, the city watch books are a story about police and the way in which a good police force can help and protect people. Which would make it copoganda. And I'm not going to say that the City Watch books are completely free of copoganda, but they also do something interesting that fairly few stories about heroic police officers do, and I think it has a lot to do with Samuel Vimes. A lot of copoganda stories like, say, Brooklyn 99, are perfectly capable of portraying cops as cruel, bigoted, and greedy, but our central cast of characters are portrayed as good people who want to help their communities. The result is that the bad cops are portrayed as an aberration, while most cops can be assumed to be good people doing a tough job because they want to help protect people from the nebulous evil forces of "Crime". The police are considered to be naturally heroic. Pratchett does something very interesting, which is provide us with Vimes' perspective, and present us with an Unnaturally heroic police force. In Ahnk-Morpork, the natural state of the watch is a gang with extra paperwork. It's the place for people who, at best, just want a steady paycheck and at worst want an excuse to hit people with a truncheon. Rather than be an army defending people from the forces of Crime, the Watch is described as a sort of sleight-of-hand, big burly watchmen in shiny uniforms don't stand around in-case a Crime happens in their vicinity, they stand around to remind people that The Law exists and has teeth. The Watchmen are people, when danger rears it's head, their instinct is to hide and get out of the way. When faced with authority, their instinct is to bow to it out of fear of what it might do to them if they don't. Carrot is a genuine Hero, but his natural heroism is presented as an aberration. Normal Cops don't act like Carrot does. The fact that the Watch ends up acting like a Heroic Police Force is largely due to the leadership of Sam Vimes, but Vimes himself is a microcosm of the Watch. The base state of Sam Vimes would be an alchoholic bully of an officer, one who beats people until they confess to anything because that makes his job easier. Vimes The Hero is a homunculous, an artificial being created by Sam Vimes fighting back all those instincts and FORCING himself to behave as his conscience dictates. Vimes doesn't take bribes or let his officers do the same because, damnit, that sort of thing shouldn't happen, even if doing so would make things a lot easier. Vimes doesn't run towards sounds of screaming because he WANTS to, he forces himself to do so because somebody needs to. It's best summed up in Thud “Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? Your Grace.” “I know that one,” said Vimes. “Who watches the watchmen? Me, Mr. Pessimal.” “Ah, but who watches you, Your Grace?” said the inspector with a brief little smile. “I do that, too. All the time,” said Vimes. “Believe me.”

In the hands of another writer, or another series, this exchange would be weirdly dismissive. To whom should the police be accountable to? Themselves, shut up and trust us. But from Vimes, it's a different story. Vimes DOES constantly watch himself, and he doesn't trust that bastard, he's known him his entire life. The Heroic Police are not a natural state, they're an ideal, and ahnk-morpork only gets anywhere close. Vimes is constantly struggling against his own instincts to take shortcuts, to let things slide, but he forces himself to live up to that ideal and the Watch follows his example. Discworld doesn't propose any solutions to the problems with policing in the real world. We don't have a Sam Vimes to run the NYPD and force them to behave. We don't have a Carrot Ironfounderson. But it's at least a story about detectives and police that I can read without feeling like I'm being sold propaganda about the Thin Blue Line.

[writeriguess]

hii, could you please write about katsuki x fem reader and how they just casually revealed their relationship to the class (eg. him cooking and sleepy reader comes down casually in his clothes or sum??) thank youu!!

A Sleepy Surprise

The smell of something delicious fills the dorm common area, making a few of Class 1-A’s students pause in their morning routines. You groggily stretch under the warm blankets before realizing that your usual alarm—Bakugo’s grumbling—has been replaced by the distant sound of something sizzling in a pan. The enticing aroma of food drifts up to your room, nudging you awake despite the sleep still clinging to you.

Without much thought, you pull yourself out of bed, rubbing at your eyes as you shuffle toward the door. Bakugo’s hoodie is the first thing you grab, slipping it over your head, the fabric swallowing your frame comfortably. The scent of him, something warm and familiar, lingers in the material. You don’t bother changing out of his sweatpants from the night before, the waistband cinched just enough to stay up, though the legs are too long and drag slightly as you walk.

Still half-asleep, you slowly make your way down the stairs, guided by the promise of food. As you step into the common area, a few voices murmur, but you barely register them. Your focus is entirely on the kitchen, where Bakugo stands at the stove, flipping a pancake with effortless precision.

He barely glances at you as he shifts the frying pan to another burner. “Sit down. Food’s almost done.”

You hum sleepily in response, dragging yourself to the counter. The class, however, goes completely silent. It’s the kind of silence that feels heavy, like everyone is holding their breath, waiting for something to explode.

You miss the wide-eyed stares, the way Denki nudges Mina, who claps a hand over her mouth, or how Kirishima’s brows shoot up in surprise. You’re too busy resting your head on your folded arms, the warmth of the kitchen lulling you back toward sleep.

“Smells good,” you mumble, voice still thick with sleep.

Bakugo scoffs, setting a plate in front of you. “Yeah, yeah, hurry up and eat before you pass out on the damn table.”

You grab your fork without a second thought, taking a bite of the food he made just for you, savoring the flavors as your brain slowly catches up with the world around you. "This is amazing, 'Suki."

The explosion of noise is almost immediate.

“WAIT, WAIT, WAIT.” Denki practically screeches, making you wince. “Did she just—Did she just call him—?”

“‘SUKI??” Mina gasps, hands on her cheeks. “OH MY GOD.”

“Are you two dating?” Iida asks, pushing his glasses up in pure disbelief.

Bakugo turns his sharp crimson glare on them, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “What, you extras deaf or somethin’? ‘Course we are.”

A chorus of “WHAAAAAT?!” erupts from your classmates, ranging from Kirishima’s proud laughter to Mineta’s dramatic wailing about life being unfair. You just blink sleepily at the chaos, still munching on your breakfast like this is the most normal thing in the world.

Momo clasps her hands together. “Well, I must say, I’m happy for you two! Though… I am surprised. How long have you been together?”

“Eh, a while,” Bakugo grumbles, flipping another pancake. “Didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Uraraka gasps. “A while?! And you never told us?!”

You finally look up, rubbing your eyes. “Didn’t think we had to?” you mumble.

Kirishima grins, throwing an arm around Bakugo’s shoulders. “Bro! You should’ve told me! I could’ve given you relationship advice!”

Bakugo smacks his arm away. “Yeah, like I need advice from your dumbass.”

Sero chuckles. “Man, if she wasn’t literally sitting there in your clothes, I wouldn’t believe it.”

“I dunno, I think it’s kinda cute,” Mina says, nudging you with a knowing smirk. “Our little firecracker is all soft for you, huh?”

You smile sleepily, still too drowsy to feel embarrassed. “Yeah,” you admit easily, making the class erupt in more screams while Bakugo grumbles about everyone being too damn loud.

But he doesn’t deny it.

[delusionalwh6re]

࿐࿔ ⋆ ｡˚ taste

࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ lee myung-gi x fem!reader

warnings: 🔞smut, fem receiving!oral, squirting, fingering, language, dirty talk, and overstimulation

summary: your man loves being between your thighs

authore’s note: A LIL SUM WHILE I WRITE THIS LONG DETAILED ASS SMUT.. it’s taking me foreva im so maddd 💔

i tried so hard not to laugh while making this in PUBLIC.

Your mind was foggy. Head spinning as your mind raced with all types of feelings. The sensation between your legs becoming stronger as you started to shake.

A gasp left your mouth when Myung-gi placed yet another lick onto your slit. He firmly pressed his tongue on your flesh as he dragged it up to suck on your clit.

“Fuck” left your mouth as your back arched causing him to only suck harder as if you were floating away

Your moans only got louder as you grabbed onto his hair which turned him on through the roof. Lifting your hand up with what little strength you had left to try and pry his greedy mouth off of you.

Myung-gi had been doing this for hours. Not letting up until HE was ready to — which would probably be never.

If there was one thing about him it was that this man was a munch. He could spend the rest of his life smuggled between your thighs, hell maybe even a whole day if you let him.

Which there’s been a few times you have — how could you resist him?

“Pleasee” you whined gripping onto the fitted sheets next to you — a desperate plea for all of this to end

His mouth finally popped off of you with a ‘pwah’

“Use your words baby, please what?”

He knew exactly what he was doing. A smug grin forming on his face as he finally caught sight of you.

He did this teasing thing where he would let you cum, then drag another orgasm out of you just to deny you at the very last second, and finally let you gush all over him again. The process being repeated.

But at the end of the day, he always took care of you.

You were completely naked, laying bare in front of him — lips swollen, boobs bouncing with each heavy breath your took, eyes watering, skin sweaty, hair frizzy. The most beautiful sight he ever saw.

Now Myung-gi was a lot of things, a pussy pleaser being one of them. You could even say his greatest gift. No matter what he always put your pleasure first.

It didn’t take long for you to tell him what you wanted. Grabbing him by the back of his head to press him against your pussy. Moans started leaving your mouth as he instantly got to work.

“Yes, yes, yes!” you chanted throwing your head back as his lips sloppily kissed your lower ones — squelching noises being heard through the room.

He grunted, pausing for a second before throwing your shaky legs over his shoulders. Slightly lifting them up to get better access to your sweet center.

The sounds leaving your mouth completely pornagraphic at this point as the man under you devoured you like his last meal.

“Myung-gi” you whimpered feeling his plump lips leave hard suckles onto your swollen bud.

Tears forming in your eyes as the familiar ache in your core started to unravel. Lifting your head up to look at him — making you nearly gush at the sight.

His eyes were low as he never once took them off you, which only kept his motivation going. The fluffy hair he usually kept put together now messy, his face practically covered in your juices, his muscles flexing with each move he made on you.

You reached out for him. You needed something, anything to keep you from feeling like you were gonna explode. His hand met yours, intertwining them gently.

His tongues swirled in ways he knew you liked. Being used to his antics you could tell what he was up to, trying to bring you to your breaking point. Essentially trying to make you tap out.

“So, so good. Tastes so good my love” his voice muffled against your pussy.

He shook his head back and forth making you throb, feeling him get so desperate for you turned him on. The both of you really, bringing out a nasty side of each other nobody else could see.

“Like that” you moaned moving your hips up and down on his face.

“Yeah? You like that?” spelling out his name with his tongue, now using his finger to probe at your entrance.

“Mhm!” you nodded frantically crushing your thighs against his head slightly the closer you got.

A surprised scream leaving your throat when he slid his thick finger into your tight walls. Instantly curling it against your g-spot.

“Don’t stop” a tear flowing down your cheek, all of it being too much. The overstimulation catching up to you.

“You’re almost there” he praised gently. Inserting his middle finger inside of you before curling both of them up at the same time — just the way you liked it.

“I’m cumming!” you squealed closing your eyes as the ecstasy it all consumed you.

“There you go beautiful” he placed sloppy kisses at your center — licking up the cum that streamed out of you as you seized above him. Smirking at the sight of you letting his mouth pleasure you.

“Bae-babe, oh my gosh!” you squeezed his hand feeling a now different sensation.

“I gotchu” he rubbed your thigh up and down soothingly with his free hand “let go for me my love”

You weren’t able to speak before a loud splash was heard.

“Oh yeah, make that pussy squirt for me” Myung-gi sat up between your legs rubbing your clit back and forth — making sure you finished complete.

Once you broke out of your trance. You leaned up, a pout on your lips telling him all he needed to now — you were happy yet upset with him after all the torture he put you through.

“I love you too” he sarcastically smiled at you before leaning up to place a kiss on your stomach — that was covered in sweat.

“Ew get off of me” you whined trying to push him away as he now tried pressing a kiss against your lips.

“So I can’t have a kiss?” he tilted his head trying to hide his smirk.

“Boy bye, you seemed to be having the time of your life with my other lips. Go away” you faked an attitude knowing you wanted nothing more than him all over you

A gentle smack was laid onto your sensitive pussy causing you to hiss.

“And I enjoyed it” he smirked laying on you, with no care in the world as all his weight was against you.

“I can tell” you grumbled while your cheeks warmed up against your face

WHEWWW CHILE.. i had to take a couple breaks during this 😭 i was lowkey cringing but there was parts where i was like “hol on i nibbled a lil bit!” haha

don’t be afraid to sends reqs 😫 i would love to do more of these while writing longer more plot based smuts/fics! i find these a lot easier to do & they take me less than a day to do

[snail-day]

This is Love, Right?

Part two of Can My Friend Join?

Next part: It's all your fault, isn't it?

Yan!SatoSugu x Reader

Sum: You're starting to grow used to Suguru, maybe evening learning to accept his love.

TW: Yandere Behaviors (Cameras, Obsession, Manipulation, trapping), Really toxic relationship, dubcon, oral (F and M receiving), Brief smut, Reader is going through it. SatoSugu (Just a warning in itself), Angst

WC: 4.7k

A/n: Listened to a random Mitski playlist and it lowkey made me depressed while writing this, expect some fluff after this one.

This is love.

You keep telling yourself that, don’t you?

Even as silent tears streak down your cheeks in the furthest bathroom—the one tucked away from the master bedroom, the one even Satoru’s Six Eyes can’t reach.

This is love.

The way Satoru leans down, his snowy white hair falling across his forehead in that effortlessly tousled way, pressing a fleeting kiss to your lips before heading out on a mission. His crystalline blue eyes, so striking they feel otherworldly, linger on you for a moment too long before he straightens up, a lopsided grin pulling at his lips. Suguru follows, his dark hair tied neatly back, though loose strands frame his sharp, beautiful face. He gives you a casual wave, the corners of his mouth lifting into a faint, teasing smile as he murmurs, “I love you.”

You’ve never seen Satoru happier than he’s been since Suguru joined your relationship. Happier than back when it was just the two of you, curled up on the couch, his long legs stretched across the cushions while you laughed at some cheesy anime. Back then, his laugh was unrestrained, carefree. The way his shoulders would shake, his hand coming up to push his blindfold up and wipe away a tear—it felt real.

You miss those days.

You didn’t cry as much back then.

But they love you, don’t they?

They still pay your tuition, still ensure your life is cushioned and cared for. Suguru, always measured and composed, suggested once, “Maybe you should switch to online classes.” His voice was soft, his tone coaxing. It made sense, didn’t it? His reasoning was sound: “There was a special grade curse at the school the other day. We just worry about you, baby.”

Suguru always seems so calm, his velvety voice soothing and warm yet guarded dark eyes giving him an air of quiet authority. You begin to find comfort in that. However, the weight of his presence feels heavy, suffocating even some days.

Satoru, on the other hand, radiates energy. His presence fills the room like sunlight—blinding, inescapable. His tall, lanky frame always seems so relaxed, but you know better. Behind the teasing lilt of his voice and his constant grin lies a man who rarely lets his guard down. The way he looms, leaning just a little too close, reminds you of the distance he refuses to let exist between the two of you.

They worry about you so much. Yet whenever you voice concern for them, they hush you. Suguru’s deep voice reassures you, as if he’s talking to a child, while Satoru’s lips curl into a too-bright smile, his hand patting your head like you’re something fragile.

They love you. They take care of you. It would be selfish to leave them, wouldn’t it?

And Satoru—he’s never been this happy.

He’s working less, smiling more. Suguru’s return has lifted a weight off his shoulders. He’s not carrying the burden of being the strongest alone anymore. You can see it in the way his smile softens when Suguru speaks, in the way his gaze lingers on him longer than it ever lingers on you.

And yet, you tell yourself:

This is love.

Still, you wonder… wasn’t Suguru supposed to be going to therapy? You think back to his promises—vague, half-hearted reassurances—but did he ever actually leave for a session? Ever join a voice call?

You don’t recall.

You try to push the thought away, like so many others. Ignore the red flags. Focus on the green.

The relationship has its moments. You’re growing used to Suguru.

Especially your drunk self—the one that gravitates toward him, curling up on his lap like a loyal dog, seeking out his touch and the warmth of his arms. He always accepts you, his large hands stroking your back or brushing through your hair with a tenderness that feels almost too loving, almost cruel. You wonder what side of yourself that is, the part that craves his affection so desperately, the part that lets the lines blur between love and dependency.

You might even say you’re learning to love him—or at least the version of him that exists in the quiet of the night. The version that pulls you close under the weight of darkness, his voice low and unguarded as he whispers, “I love you.”

It’s in those moments that he feels human, almost fragile. A man with calloused hands and a broken heart trying to mend himself through you.

And it’s hard not to wonder—are you really learning to love him, or are you simply surrendering to the inevitability of it all?

Satoru, though… he never used to cuddle at night. Even before Suguru entered the picture, he always sprawled out in his ridiculously expensive sheets, claiming restlessness from the constant hum of his cursed energy. He needed the space, he said, and you told yourself he deserved it.

Suguru, however—Suguru surprised you.

At first glance, he didn’t seem the type for soft affections, but you quickly learned otherwise. Every night, his arms would find their way around you, wrapping you in a firm but gentle embrace. His warmth seeped into you, grounding and comforting, as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. His lips would brush your skin with soft kisses, a tenderness you hadn’t expected from him.

Sometimes, his deep voice would murmur, “Sorry we came home so late,” heavy with sincerity. Other times, his words were more vulnerable, whispered just above a breath: “I love you,” spoken in the dark when he thought you were asleep.

It’s hard not to love him in those moments. Hard not to feel your resolve slip as his presence surrounds you. His breath fans against your neck, steady and warm. His rhythmic breathing eventually syncs with yours, as if his body is learning the cadence of your every inhale and exhale.

For those fleeting moments, you almost forget the cracks beneath the surface.

Other good moments were the intimate ones, the kind that left no room for doubt about how thoroughly they possessed you.

Suguru’s lips would meet yours in slow, deliberate kisses, his touch soft and coaxing, as Satoru’s tongue worked between your legs. The wet, obscene sounds filled the room, clouding your vision and overwhelming your senses. Satoru’s tongue moved with precision, his mouth relentless as he lapped at your cunt, delving deep until your mind felt as hazy as your breathless moans.

Suguru’s fingers never faltered, rubbing tight circles around your clit in perfect rhythm with Satoru’s ministrations. Their combined efforts dragged you over the edge again and again, your body trembling and giving in to the relentless waves of pleasure.

It became impossible to think of anything else—impossible to care about anything other than the bliss they brought you. Their hardened cocks stretched you beyond your limits, filling you completely, their stamina nearly too much for your quivering form.

Suguru would cradle your face in his hands, his dark eyes soft yet intense as he cooed sweet nothings. He’d murmur praises, soothing and possessive, as Satoru pressed the tip of his cock into your overstimulated, leaking cunt. The stretch made you gasp—a sound Suguru captured with his lips, his kiss slow, methodical, leaving you no room to shy away.

Satoru’s hands gripped your hips harshly, his long fingers digging into your flesh, ensuring you stayed exactly where he wanted you. You could already tell the marks would bloom into bruises by morning, a physical reminder of their claim. Suguru, ever attentive, would turn your face gently toward the camera, his voice a low murmur against your lips. “You’re such a good girl,” he’d praise, his thumb brushing your cheek before pulling you into another kiss.

When they were finally spent, when your body gave out completely, Suguru always carried you to the bath. His embrace was steady, grounding, as the warm water soothed your trembling form. You’d lean against his chest, your body limp, lulled by the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing.

Sometimes, Satoru would join, his tall frame slipping into the water beside you. Their voices would soften as they spoke over you, discussing mundane things or recounting their mission. Occasionally, a kiss would press against your temple—a fleeting gesture, tender and claiming all at once—as you drifted in and out of sleep.

For a little while, it felt like you belonged.

And then, when he thinks you’re asleep, Satoru murmurs, “I knew you’d come around.”

You’re never sure who he’s talking to—Suguru, the man who swore to eradicate non-sorcerers? Or you, the girl who’s finally learning to love the monster who holds her at night?

It’s in these moments that you find yourself slipping out of bed, mumbling an excuse to use the bathroom. Suguru always lets you go with a teasing “Come back fast, or I’ll come get you.” You never linger long enough to see if he’s joking.

Once inside the furthest bathroom, the one that feels like your only sanctuary, you clutch the edge of the sink and sob. Quietly, so no one hears. Until your knees give out and you’re on the floor, shaking and clutching yourself.

This is love. Right?

They loved you. So why were you crying in the bathroom?

Why did each love bite feel like a brand, etched into your skin with every lingering gaze in the mirror? Why did their cum, warm as it seeped down your thighs, burn like it was searing itself into you, a mark you couldn’t erase? Why did the blank, soulless stare of the camera lens feel like an accusation, making you flinch away from any piece of technology?

Before too long, you would wipe your tears, force a smile to your lips—steadying it just enough so it wouldn’t wobble—and return to Suguru’s waiting arms. His hum would vibrate against your back as his dark hair tickled your neck. He’d cradle you close, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Goodnight, baby,” he’d murmur, and you’d close your eyes, pretending his embrace felt like comfort instead of confinement.

But mornings brought their own discomforts.

You found yourself rifling through the master bathroom, searching the countertop with rising panic. Where is it? The nagging thought ate at you.

Satoru, brushing his teeth beside you, glanced over with those striking blue eyes. His tone was soft, almost too casual. “What’s up, baby?”

“I can’t find my birth control,” you admitted, the words trembling as much as your hands.

“Did you misplace it? You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” He walked over, his long arms wrapping around your waist. A kiss brushed the top of your head, his voice gentle but firm. “Go ask Sugu. He’s the one who organizes everything.”

So you did. Suguru was at the desk in the living room, working through a report. From over his shoulder, you could see the numbers—charge rates, payments for missions—enough to know your schooling costs barely amounted to a fraction of what they earned in a single week.

“Your birth control?” he repeated absentmindedly, his tone light, almost dismissive. “You’ve been misplacing that a lot, haven’t you, baby?”

His words felt condescending, like you were a child searching for a lost toy.

“Where is it?” you asked, voice still soft but with a growing edge of desperation. You were five minutes late—exactly.

“Ah-ah, no need for that tone, baby,” he chided, his eyes still glued to his paperwork. “Check the kitchen counter. Your purse? Maybe your school bag.”

It took thirty agonizing minutes of searching, panic simmering under your skin, before you found it—perched on top of the fridge.

You stared at it for a moment, unmoving. You would have never put it there.

Suguru’s behavior had become harder to ignore. There were moments when his touch lingered, his eyes softened, and his voice carried a wistful tone. He had baby fever—you could tell. Maybe it was tied to the twins he lost.

You’d asked him about them once. His face shuttered, dark and unreadable, and he didn’t respond.

You tried asking Satoru, but he had simply glanced away, his usual bravado vanishing for a moment too long.

You decided not to ask again.

Some questions weren’t meant to be answered. You had a sinking feeling the truth lay buried somewhere with the higher-ups, in a place you weren’t allowed to tread.

Suguru’s baby fever didn’t fade, no matter how much you tried to ignore it.

When the three of you went to the store, you’d catch that soft smile tugging at his lips whenever he saw a child. It wasn’t the type of smile he gave just anyone—it was warm, tender, hopeful. And it was always followed by a kiss pressed to your temple. A gesture you used to pull away from, but now, you found yourself smiling through.

Sometimes, he’d suggest wandering into the baby section, his tone casual, almost playful. “Just in case. Want to see what’s out there.”

The words always made your skin crawl.

Because no matter how innocuous they sounded, your mind couldn’t help but spiral. It always went back to the hidden birth control, the misplaced pills, and the monthly pregnancy tests he insisted on. He’d stand there, watching you pee on the stick, his arms crossed but his expression almost serene—waiting, anticipating. He wanted to know right away.

You tried to shove those thoughts into the furthest corner of your mind. Tried to convince yourself it was all harmless.

Satoru, by contrast, didn’t seem to care much for babies. He never lingered in the baby aisle and rarely commented on Suguru’s behavior. But he’d hum softly, his hand clasping yours, and flash you a loving smile.

You liked to think that as long as everyone else was happy, Satoru was happy.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Occasionally, when they left for long missions, the apartment felt suffocating in its emptiness. You’d pad softly through the vast, cold space, the silence amplifying every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet.

Your eyes darted around, searching for the hidden cameras you knew were there. You weren’t sure where they all were, or when they liked to check the footage, but you’d found one blind spot: the hallway closet.

You moved slowly, deliberately, ensuring you didn’t do anything that might raise suspicion. Even though you were alone, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

All because they loved you.

Slipping into the closet, you nestled yourself on the floor, silky yukatas hanging above like a shroud. Your laptop glowed faintly in the darkness as you opened it and began your quiet rebellion.

You searched for apartments—something small, something within your budget. Each listing felt like a whisper of hope. You lingered on them, imagining the freedom they promised, before methodically deleting your browser history. Clearing the cache. Erasing every trace.

It was a silly idea. A foolish one, really.

But for a few stolen moments, it was yours.

It didn’t seem so silly after the heated argument with Satoru when he got home.

He was already overstimulated, frustrated, and teetering on the edge of losing his patience. Those moments were the worst—when the teasing lilt in his voice faded, replaced by something sharp and mean. His cerulean eyes, usually playful and glinting with mischief, turned cold and calculating, the glow of his Six Eyes adding an eerie sharpness to his gaze.

All he wanted was release. That was all.

“It shouldn’t be a big deal,” he said, his tone flat but brimming with expectation.

Except you weren’t in the mood.

“I’m sorry, Toru, I just—”

“I do everything for you, and you can’t even provide me with a little comfort?” His words came out harsh, the grin curling his lips into something too sharp to be soft. He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a long shadow over you. His presence always felt overwhelming—broad shoulders, perfectly sculpted face framed by stark white hair, and a lean body that seemed to hum with restrained power. You swallowed hard. Did he get taller?

“I just got off my period, so it’s—”

“It’s what?” His voice cut through your hesitation, his hands flexing as if he were trying to leash himself. “Come on, baby. Just a quickie. Or let me use your mouth.”

The fight drained out of you before you even realized it.

You ended up on your knees, the cold tile biting into your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from your flushed face. His long fingers twisted tightly into your hair, guiding your head as if you were nothing more than a puppet for his pleasure. His pale chest rose and fell steadily, the faint sheen of sweat on his skin catching the light, glinting like cruel punctuation to his earlier frustration.

The tip of his cock pushed past your lips, the stretch almost unbearable as he moved with slow, deliberate thrusts. His head tilted back, exposing the sharp lines of his jaw, tightening with every wet sound that filled the room. A low groan rumbled deep in his throat, vibrating in the space between you like a growl of satisfaction.

Your throat burned, gagging and gasping as you struggled to adjust. Your hands clutched at his thighs for balance, fingers digging into the hard, taut muscles beneath his impossibly smooth skin. His hips began to move with more force, his breaths growing heavier, the faintest smirk curling on his lips as he reveled in your struggle.

His moans grew louder, rougher, until with a sharp tug of your hair, he pulled out. Hot ropes of cum painted your face, the heat of it stark against your flushed skin. You blinked through the haze, barely catching your breath, the sting of humiliation bubbling up in your chest.

Before you could even reach for something to wipe yourself clean, the sharp click of a camera shutter echoed through the room.

You didn’t need to look up to know what he was doing. You could already imagine him grinning at the screen, tapping a few buttons with casual ease. You could picture the caption as clearly as if he’d whispered it into your ear:

"Our girl is so beautiful, isn’t she? <3"

The thought sat heavy in your chest, a mix of shame, anger, and something else you didn’t want to name.

And then, as if nothing had happened, Satoru turned sweet again.

He brought you a towel, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he wiped your face. “Come on,” he coaxed, his voice softening. He guided you to the bathroom, his fingers lacing with yours, and drew you into the shower.

Under the warm water, he washed your hair, his hands threading through your strands with care. His crystalline eyes softened as he began to tell you about his mission, his lips quirking into a small smile. From the counter, he produced a small box of mochi, your favorite snack.

“You’re everything to me, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple. His arms wrapped around you, his broad chest pressing against your back. “I’m going to marry you one day. You know that, right?”

And just like that, the storm passed, leaving behind only his affection.. 

Your heart sank at the mention of marriage. With them, you knew they’d find a way to make it happen—the three of you, bound together, no matter how impossible it seemed.

After the shower, you slipped into bed, craving the comforting warmth of the sheets. It was a small solace, a fleeting moment where you could envelop yourself in something soft and familiar.

Satoru liked to cuddle during naps, and true to form, his lanky arms found their way around you. He pulled you close, his chest pressing against your back as he nuzzled into you. His kisses came next, peppered across your lips with deliberate exaggeration, loud and obnoxious.

You used to giggle when he did that. You used to squirm and laugh, batting him away as he grinned and pulled you closer.

But now, you stayed still, letting him press his kisses and settle into a nap with you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d giggled like that. Or the last time you’d laughed at all.

On their next mission, you had exactly six hours.

Exactly six hours for a stupid idea. A fleeting thought. 

You’d planned this carefully, down to the second. When they asked where you’d be, you made some excuse about a doctor’s appointment. It was believable enough—Suguru always asked to see the summary of your visits when you got back, a habit you knew was less about care and more about control.

But this time, you lied.

There was no appointment.

Instead, you booked a one-way trip. Far, far away from Tokyo. Far enough that they wouldn’t be able to find you, at least not right away.

The States. It was the only place you could afford with the small stash of cash you’d scraped together over the years—birthday cards, Christmas cards, anything you’d managed to squirrel away without raising suspicion. You even bought a prepaid flight gift card, ensuring it couldn’t be traced back to you.

No suitcases, no sentimental keepsakes, nothing but the clothes on your back.

Before you left, you scrawled a simple note, placing it where you knew they’d find it. Just three words:

"I love you."

Ironic, isn’t it? 

As you sat at your terminal, the minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. You told yourself a 14-hour flight wouldn’t be so bad. It was freedom, wasn’t it? The first real breath you’d taken in months.

But then, a familiar figure caught your eye.

Megumi.

He wasn’t alone—the other first-years trailed beside him—but it was Megumi’s gaze that stopped your heart. His dark eyes widened when they locked onto yours, a flash of recognition that made your stomach churn.

Your anxiety hit you like a freight train, crawling under your skin, seeping into your every bone as they walked past. Megumi glanced back at you one more time, his lips parting just enough to mouth the words: “I’m sorry.”

And then you saw it—his hand reaching for his phone, his fingers already dialing.

You didn’t have to guess who he was calling.

Your heart sank, but you told yourself it wasn’t his fault. You knew Megumi had his reasons—his own happiness to protect, his own precarious balance to maintain. He was trying to survive too, wasn’t he?

You understood. You really did.

But understanding didn’t make the fear any less suffocating.

You cried the entire car ride home, your sobs tearing from your throat, raw and uncontrollable.

Satoru didn’t even glance your way. His icy, dull gaze stayed fixed on the window, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might snap. The silence between you was deafening, broken only by your muffled cries and the hum of the car engine.

In the passenger seat, Suguru sat quietly, his expression unreadable. His hands rested on his knees, fingers drumming absently, as if the tension in the car didn’t weigh as heavily on him.

Poor Ijichi-san gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white, clearly caught in a situation he didn’t want to be in. He glanced at you through the rearview mirror—sympathy flashing briefly in his eyes—before he quickly looked away, the moment shattered by Satoru’s cold, piercing glare.

The car felt suffocating, like the air had been sucked out, leaving only the weight of your despair and the oppressive silence of the two men who claimed to love you.

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you watched the familiar sight of your apartment complex slip past the window. Panic prickled at the edge of your already frayed nerves, your grip tightening on the fabric of your clothes. A small sniffle left your nose, your voice coming out hoarse and broken.

“Where are we going, Toru?”

You turned your gaze to Satoru, hoping for an answer, for anything—but he didn’t look at you. He didn’t respond. His profile was cold, distant, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Your stomach twisted, guilt clawing at your insides. You must have hurt him. He always clung to your love like it was his lifeline. You must have broken that lifeline, snapped it in two with your attempt to run.

You shifted your gaze to Suguru, hoping for some clarity, but his face gave nothing away. His dark eyes flickered toward you for the briefest of moments before returning to the road ahead, his expression as still and unreadable as ever.

The car veered away from familiar streets, the urban sprawl giving way to the shadowy embrace of the woods.

Your chest tightened.

Every nerve in your body screamed as the car crept deeper into the forest, the tall trees looming like silent sentinels. Your mind raced with grim possibilities. Were they planning to leave you here? Like an unwanted dog, cast into the cold for daring to run away?

But then, just as the panic began to claw at you, your gaze caught the sight of something familiar—something that made your heart sink even further.

The tall, imposing torii gates emerged through the mist, their vibrant red striking against the muted greens and grays of the forest.

Oh.

The Gojo Estate.

“I don’t think I can trust you enough not to leave again,” Satoru said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically calm, almost detached.

He wasn’t usually the one to chide you—that was Suguru’s role. Suguru, who would dole out punishments with a sharp tongue or a chilling, parental tone, as though you were a misbehaving child. But now, Satoru’s words held a gravity that made your chest tighten.

“So,” he continued, his crystalline eyes fixed ahead, “I figured here, you could have a few more eyes on you. Maybe even enjoy it more. Who knows? You might even come around to the idea of being Mrs. Gojo or Mrs. Geto. Your pick.”

He smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“We already filled out the documentation. You’re married.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, the weight of them crashing into your chest. Your mind spun, unable to comprehend the sheer audacity of it, the sheer finality.

You felt chained.

Like a dog, tethered to their will, stripped of freedom, and locked away under the pretense of love.

They didn’t say anything as they walked you through the grand, silent halls of the Gojo Estate, and for that, you were almost thankful. The air was heavy with whispers and disdainful glances from the servants. A non-sorcerer? Their murmurs carried through the air, sharp and cutting, as though your very presence was an affront to their world.

When you reached the bedroom, Satoru’s hand guided you forward with surprising gentleness, his fingers brushing yours as though nothing had changed. He led you to the edge of the plush, sprawling bed, and you forced a small, trembling smile to your lips—a weak attempt at peace, at hope.

His bright eyes softened, and for a moment, you thought maybe, just maybe, you could reason with him.

But then his hands caught your wrists.

A light kiss brushed your lips, so soft you barely registered it over the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. The faint click of the cuffs was almost lost in the quiet, but the cold metal digging into your skin was impossible to ignore.

He stepped back, his expression unreadable.

It was Suguru’s voice that filled the air next, low and calm, like a lullaby that promised nightmares.

“You’re going to provide us an heir,” he said, his smile almost serene, even as your eyes widened in horror. “It was Satoru’s idea, actually.”

His smile deepened, almost teasing, as though he enjoyed the shock and betrayal etched across your face. “And you’re not leaving this room until you’re safe and pregnant.”

The words hung in the air, suffocating you.

Suguru’s tone carried a quiet, unmistakable happiness, as though this was something he’d always wanted. Maybe it was—he’d always longed for a child, hadn’t he? You turned your gaze to Satoru, searching for something, anything.

But all you found was the lovesick smile he gave Suguru.

Not you.

Your chest tightened as tears pricked your eyes, the overwhelming urge to scream, to sob, to lash out building inside you.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Instead, you sat there, the cold metal biting into your wrists, the weight of their love crushing the last sliver of hope you’d held onto.

You had grown numb.

Must be from all the love, right?

[hyunsuloves]

Hii!! Would you be willing to write some nam-gyu/player 124 x reader hcs? I just love roh jaewon sm <3

boyfriend nam-gyu in the games.

warnings … this is kinda buns… that’s it

lovely notes … i lowkey hate how his character acts but i love roh jae-won too ᥫ᭡!!

꩜ [ 630 words ]

boyfriend nam-gyu who didn’t tell you he was entering the games. he intended to disappear for a week, and then show up with some bullshit excuse and a large sum of money.

boyfriend nam-gyu who was pissed off beyond belief when he came to find out that you were in the games because of his debt. the salesman recruited you to ease your boyfriend's debt and unfortunately, you couldn’t resist.

boyfriend nam-gyu who wouldn’t allow you to leave his side. it irks thanos a little bit, but he doesn’t really say anything because you and nam-gyu are together.

boyfriend nam-gyu gyu who only votes to leave because of your presence. no amount of money could aid him if you were to die here, and all because of him.

boyfriend nam-gyu who gets into countless arguments over you. he’ll argue over the dumbest shit, like someone bumping into you and not apologizing. he feels the constant need to defend you but he tends to take it a bit far.

boyfriend nam-gyu who constantly has a hand on you. it may be on your waist, his fingers interlocked with yours, or his hands in your hair.

boyfriend nam-gyu who insists on a “good luck kiss” before each game. you both are well aware that he just wants an excuse to kiss you, but who’s going to complain about it?

boyfriend nam-gyu who would lose his mind if thanos were to say something about you. if something he said was the slightest bit of suggestive, he might actually fight him about it.

boyfriend nam-gyu who loathes seeing any other player talking to you. even if it’s simplistic small talk to pass the time, he feels a surge of jealousy seeing other people interact so casually with you.

boyfriend nam-gyu who has you alongside him during every game. you don’t really have a choice because he has a vice grip on your hand. you couldn’t go anywhere even if you wanted to.

boyfriend nam-gyu who encourages you to stay away from thanos. he knows he’s a terrible person and despite hanging out with him, he doesn’t want you anywhere near a person as heinous as him. he definitely doesn’t want you taking whatever drugs thanos has on him.

boyfriend nam-gyu who always offers you a portion of his food. he’s a little greedy and secretly wants to keep it all to himself, but he puts your well-being before him, so he always offers you a piece.

boyfriend nam-gyu who sleeps in the bed directly next to yours. the beds are so tiny and can barely fit two people, so he finds peace in sleeping in the bed adjacent to yours.

boyfriend nam-gyu who only allows himself to be vulnerable with you during lights out. he doesn’t want any other players to view your affection as a weakness and use it against either one of you. so, the only time you see the true doting state of your boyfriend is when no one else can see.

boyfriend nam-gyu who wants nothing more than to be affectionate around you, but he knows he can’t for the sake of both of your safety. if he wants the two of you to make it out alive, he’s well aware that he has to put on an uncaring facade in the face of everyone else.

boyfriend nam-gyu who would kill someone for you. it’s a terrifying concept, yet not an unusual one amid the deaths all around. it’s slightly unnerving how quick he’d end other players life in your defense.

boyfriend nam-gyu who has plans to take you out somewhere after you get out of here. he’s the reason you’re here in the first place, and the least he can do is try to make it up to you.

[xshadowdelta]

DESFILABA EN MILÁN

Yoo Jimin (Karina) x Male Reader (6K Length)

Being the son of the president and owner of one of the most famous multinational companies in the entire world had an infinite number of advantages, but one stood out above the rest. The economic power you wielded was practically inexhaustible, which led you to a life of luxuries and whims, since you won the race against the rest of the sperm.

Living in a mansion, having a driver and bodyguard, attending private schools, and one of the best universities in the world, having a huge guaranteed job, and rubbing shoulders with some of the most important people on the planet. Although the latter was sometimes more of a drawback than an advantage, depending on how tedious the matter at hand was.

And that was what had brought you here, to Milan, Italy, in what was known as Milan Fashion Week, a show whose date was marked on the calendar of everyone who was interested in this whole panorama.

It's not that it was your first time attending an event of this caliber, but it was your first time dealing with something related to fashion, a topic that you hardly knew anything about and that didn't interest you too much, to be honest.

Why were you here then? Simple, because of one of your father's contacts. The world of business was not simply about making money with your company, offering a quality product, managing your employees and going home to sleep every night, no, it went much further.

Everyone should start from the bottom, and once you have managed to reach the top, the difficulty lies in staying up there, which is something that experts always say. And to achieve this objective, alliances are needed, partners if you prefer, in order to build a powerful and, at the same time, faithful network of contacts.

One of the most powerful designers at the show belonged to your father's network of contacts, and therefore also to yours and your company's. Attending this parade was nothing more than a business commitment to strengthen the relationship between you two.

However, the CEO of the company, that is, your father, was closing a deal with a new investor in the USA, and his busy schedule prevented him from traveling to Europe precisely at that time. And there is where you came in, your position as heir, your father's current right-hand man, and future president meant that these tasks fell on you.

You had to admit that you were a little nervous. The crowd of celebrities didn't surprise you, you had been to places like this before, but the fashion world used to bring together a lot of, no offense, snobs.

Since your childhood, you have dealt with thousands of these types of people. You were seasoned in a thousand battles against posh children of rich parents who believe they are the center of the universe, just because the guy they called dad once fucked their mother without wearing a condom in a gas station bathroom, and he ended up having success with some banal bullshit. Luckily, you hadn't turned out that stupid.

You witnessed the parade from the guest area between a young actor who was beginning to emerge in Hollywood and a Formula 1 driver. Experiencing this type of event from the inside perhaps would eliminate your prejudices and change your way of seeing them, nothing could be further from reality.

You still couldn't understand how there were people willing to not only wear such extravagant outfits and clothing, but also pay for them, a negligible sum of money for you, obviously, but it wasn't for 99% of the population.

Hours passed and the moon, along with a blanket of stars, beautifully illuminated the sky of the city, in accordance with the end of the event and the subsequent celebration, one of those famous after-parties that the great figures used to chat, get to know each other, and, of course, do some business.

However, that night, it wasn’t among your tasks to sign any new contracts with anyone there. Luckily for you, your father was lenient in this matter. Attending the event, interacting a little bit with acquaintances, and having the freedom to leave after completing said mission.

“I can’t believe my eyes. Look who is here, it's my good friend's little boy!” You caught a glimpse of a quirky guy, approaching you with his arms open.

There was the culprit of this little trip through the Italian country, your father's old partner, a man with long gray hair, about 60 years old, extremely thin and whose body was surrounded by who knows how many animal skins are in danger of extinction.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, sir.” You lied as he hugged you, patting your back. “I thank you for the invitation on behalf of my father, I am sure he would have loved to be able to attend.”

“Ah, that old father of yours, he continues to work too much, it's time for you to take over.”

“It is difficult, sir, we also want him to rest, but you know how stubborn he is.” At that moment, one of the waiters approached you with a tray full of champagne glasses, which you both took.

You continued talking for a while, mostly about your impressions of the show and the work you were involved in lately, taking advantage of the moment to introduce you to other designers and moguls and even some of the models who had paraded on the scenario.

“The last time I saw you, what were you, 16 years old? But look at you now, you are already a man, and you will carry on your shoulders the weight of a huge brand, it is a weight that is not inconsiderable at all. Have you not thought about having a good woman to help you?”

“I think I'm still young for that, sir, but it's certainly something I haven't considered at the moment.”

“There are countless women here and each one stands out in something: power, beauty, intelligence…I could introduce you to whoever you wanted.”

You were beginning to feel uncomfortable because of the direction the conversation was taking. Although it is true that your father gave you freedom on that topic, from time to time he had dropped a comment about it. Without a girlfriend and a large fortune, you were a good catch, of course, but also the perfect target for fortune hunters. However, that didn't stop you from having fun sometimes.

You scanned the place with your gaze, doing a quick sweep of the people that came into your visual range. You then stopped at a girl who stood out above the rest in your perception.

She had Asian features, a bright dark hair and was wearing a very elegant black dress that was tight to her body. Her face was simply beautiful, somewhat pale, but certainly beautiful, as if she were the human representation of a goddess, and her body had perfect proportions, highlighted perfectly by that small dress. She was chatting cheerfully with one of the models at the show, and her smile left you speechless.

The old man next to you also observed the girl since your gaze had been lost in her, and they didn’t have a plan to return to their initial position. He gave you a playful smile and placed a hand on your shoulder. That touch was enough to make you come back to earth.

“Be careful, kid, you know what they say, the devil wears Prada.”

The designer left you there confused with those words while he went to greet another of his guests, but your eyes were still focused on that young girl. You took a long drink of your champagne, finishing it instantly and leaving the glass on one of the nearby tables to begin walking determinedly in the direction of the girl.

Sadly for you, a third person blocked your way by putting an arm around your shoulders. You tried to free yourself from that grip until you realized who it was, one of your old university classmates, the son of a great businessman in the automotive world.

He spoke to you animatedly for a few minutes in which you didn’t pay him a single second of attention while your eyes tried not to lose sight of the figure of that girl, now hidden behind the body of your friend.

You wanted to interrupt him and say something, but you also didn't want to be disrespectful. That was your mistake, was what you thought when he dragged you from there to introduce you to another group of people while you watched how you were moving away from your goal.

Suddenly you found yourself caught up in a loop that lasted about a couple of hours, about meeting new personalities, stupid conversations about business that you would have participated in another time, but not right now when your head was in somewhere else.

You managed to get out of that group with the typical excuse of having to use the bathroom, and you dove into another amount of people trying to escape. You walked through the huge room where the party was taking place while your eyes moved restlessly from side to side.

After a few long minutes, your search was unsuccessful, and you sighed in defeat, thinking that perhaps that girl had already left the party. Your left hand grabbed a strand of hair from your bangs, twisting it angrily, while your right hand held the elbow of your other hand. If you had been alone, you would have let out a frustration yell.

It was then when you noticed how a hand gently touched your back, making you turn on your feet, coming face to face with the owner of your thoughts. You relaxed the expression on your face that could not hide its surprise at seeing her standing there looking at you with a smile, as if a halo of light illuminated only her, dazzling.

“I've been waiting for you all night.” She said this, making a small pout with her mouth. That completely unnerved you. The unknown girl made the first contact. Was she waiting for you?

"How is…"

“I noticed how you looked at me.” Shit, you had been so freaking obvious. Your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, thereby increasing the volume of her giggle.

“Yoo Jimin, but you can call me Karina.” She offered one of her hands to you, you shook it in greeting, indicating your name back.

Both of you started talking at that moment. You learned that she came from South Korea and that she was dedicated to music and entertainment, specifically being a K-pop idol in a group known as Aespa along with three other girls. You knew little about the subject, but if she was part of it, it was definitely something interesting to investigate in the future.

She told you that she assisted this event as an ambassador for the Prada brand, you smiled then remembering the old man's words, but you still had to decipher the second part.

“And will you stay for a long time in Italy?” You asked.

You were supposed to fly back home tomorrow, but your private plane could wait as long as necessary.

“Oh, well, the truth is that tomorrow I'm going back to Seoul.” It made you sad to know that, and it seems that she noticed it because she got a little closer to you to whisper something in your ear.

“But that doesn't stop us to make this night indelible.” The sensual tone of her voice combined with her perverted smile gave you the clue you needed, there was the devil.

The journey from the place of celebration to the place where you were staying seemed eternal. During the trip, you couldn't help but ogle Karina, you were so obvious that she could only laugh and say “cute”.

You gave her way to your suite, walking around it in amazement, as if she hadn't been in hundreds like that before. On one of the occasions when she turned around and faced you, you grabbed her hips, pulling her towards your body to kiss her passionately, something she responded immediately with the same intensity.

“You don't waste time, I like it.” She said playfully, giving you another kiss.

“It's not like I have much.” You replied by lowering your hands to her butt, massaging it a bit, making her sigh against your lips.

“We have the whole night, tiger, we are going to have a great time.” She commented, letting out a moan when she felt your lips attacking her neck. You gave her buttocks a squeeze, appreciating that you agreed with her statement.

You grabbed the hem of her dress and lifted it up pulling it over her head and leaving her in just underwear, and her hand quickly went to the bulge in your crotch caressing it over your pants.

“God, it looks so big, I can't wait to have it in my mouth.” A shiver ran through your body, forcing you to undress as fast as you were allowed, making Karina laugh loudly.

Now with both of you covered only by your underwear, her hands traveled to your chest, caressing it as she reached up to kiss your lips again. In response, your hands distributed slow and gentle caresses along her bare back, taking advantage of the situation to unhook her lace bra. Your torsos were separated enough for the garment to fall to the floor due to gravity.

She took your hand and led you to the bed, where you took her by the waist, causing you both to fall gently lying on the bed, with her under you, still enjoying your kisses.

One of your hands went up her body to her voluptuous breasts, grabbing and kneading one of them at the same time as your tongues surrounded each other inside your mouths.

You moved away from her lips, eager to taste her tits, introducing one into your mouth, savoring it for a long time while your hand caressed her other mound, even going so far as to lightly pinch her nipple.

“Beautiful…” You whispered, offering the same treatment to her other boob.

“Are you saying it to me or my tits?” She asked, pressing your head against her breasts even more.

"Both." She smiled at your answer and shifted on the bed, moving freely, walking on four over the sheets, watching you with a feline gaze that made you rev ​​up the speed.

She completely surrounded your body, being you now the one lying face up on the bed, opening your legs to allowing her to stand in the middle. She lay on top of you, with her face pressed against your crotch, raising her butt giving you an unbeatable view.

She stuck out her tongue to lick the huge bulge that was pushing the fabric of your boxers toward the ceiling, threatening to tear it if it wasn't quickly released. She continued kissing your abdomen, leaving a trail of kisses gradually rising to your chest at the same time that her hands were playing with your member, still inside its lair.

She was playing with you, it was obvious, and you needed her as soon as possible, impatient and anxious, but you refused to show weakness, if Karina wanted to play this game then you would both play.

She went back down to your bulge, there was a part of your gray boxers that had turned into a darker color as some drops of pre-cum had escaped from your tip as a result of Karina's constant teasing. Realizing this she smiled widely with malice knowing that she had won this first round.

She bit with her teeth the elastic of your boxers, pulling them down, lowering them until your hard and throbbing penis was finally free. Karina looked at your naked cock in amazement, bringing her face closer, beginning to spread small kisses along your length.

She rested her elbow on your thigh, measuring your penis with the length of her arm. “Holy fuck, it's so much bigger than I thought. I have never faced one like this” She admitted without stopping kissing it, sticking out her tongue to lick the entire surface, making it wet.

“Come on, I'm sure you could have any boy you wanted…” “You’re not wrong, that's why I have you.” She responded, winking at you.

Meanwhile, your brain was beginning to malfunction due to the pleasure that her lips and tongue were giving you down there. “In that case, be careful and don’t choke yourself.”

Your comment was clearly a joke, but Karina, who was now moving her closed hand around your penis up and down masturbating you, stared at you with a planning in her head.

“There is nothing I want more right now than to choke on this damn cock.” She said in a very hot tone increasing the pace of the handjob making you moan louder.

You swallowed, getting even more excited. You had been with other women before, but Karina gave you an unknown vibe until this moment. She was beautiful, she was sexy, and she was aware of it, and there is no animal more feared by men than a confident and self-assured woman.

A spit came out of the woman's mouth directly onto your cock, which was already completely wet and the movement of the female hand on it was beginning to cause watery sounds.

“I can't wait any longer.” Karina whispered to herself, leaning over your cock, surrounding your tip with her lips and putting as much as she could into her mouth.

She stayed like that for a few seconds adjusting to the size of your penis and proceeded to lower her head a little more until she managed to put the entirety of your dick in her mouth.

You clung tightly to the sheets when shocks of pleasure ran through your body as you noticed how you reached her throat in one go. “God, Karina, you're crazy.”

She would have answered you if her nose wasn't brushing against your lower abdomen at that moment. She was too busy cupping her cheeks to grant you as much pleasure as possible inside her mouth.

After a few seconds of holding her breath she released your member, completely covered in saliva now. Karina coughed a few times but quickly went back to engulfing your cock.

You could see how Karina's head went up and down on your cock in a frantic manner, driving you crazy. Your member did not stop throbbing in the intimacy of her mouth and several strings of saliva were coming out of the girl's mouth meanwhile she was sucking you, starting to make a mess on your lower zone.

You had enough time as spectator and decided to join the action by taking Karina's head in your hands, helping her swallow your cock deep in her throat, causing her to dig her nails into your thighs. You held her hair in one of your fists while she continued to sink again and again on your crotch without any type of modesty.

You removed your hands, and she got separated from you, breathing heavily, but instead of leaning back and walking away, she buried her head between your balls to lick and suck on them, taking them into her mouth.

Karina continued giving love to your balls while now her both hands were masturbating your long member at high speed with enveloping movements, twisting your penis with pleasure.

She switched from your balls to your cock again, sucking you harder than before, swallowing your penis as much as she could and moving her head more desperately, producing erotic sounds from the depths of her throat. 

She let out a large stream of saliva from her mouth against the lower part of your abdomen and your thighs, kneeling on the bed and taking her own tits in her hands, making them swing before your attentive gaze, some of the saliva falling on her breasts.

You sat up a little until you reached her and grabbed her breasts, with a movement of your hips you introduced your penis between them, bouncing your hips and masturbating yourself by using her tits.

This surprised her at first, but she quickly changed her expression to a one much more lustful, staring at you, biting her lower lip, and watching as you enjoyed the massage between her breasts.

Your cock covered on saliva was leaving her tits all sticky and messy, but favoring the sliding of your penis between them.

“Please don't cum yet, I need so much more from you.” Karina moaned, squeezing the sides of her breasts with her knuckles, thus imprisoning your cock, which made you moan.

You lowered your head to kiss her lips, and you placed your hands on her shoulders, starting to move your hips faster. In response, she stuck her tongue out to lick and caress the tip of your cock each time you passed through her breasts.

She held her tits tightly and moved them without mercy or compassion, now they were no longer two huge pieces of meat that shook roughly on your manhood as if they meant nothing more than that, with the only mission of offering you pleasure. “FUCK Karina! Stop or I’m going to explode!” You screamed in ecstasy of lust, doing your best to retain the liquid that was pooling at your tip and threatening to overflow.

She didn't let go of you immediately, no, that would have been too compassionate of her, she slowly reduced the pace making the last caresses feel excitingly deadly. Even so, the damage done to you was remarkable, because the tip of your penis covered in a whitish color was irrefutable proof. With a playful smile Karina bent down to lick your tip and with it those small drops of semen that were peeking out, licking her lips noticeably.

“It tastes so delicious, I can't wait to get the full load.”

You had managed to stabilize your breathing and your emotion just when she threw herself at you again, kissing your lips like a beast and your hands explored each other's body with total freedom, directing one of your hands to her panties to which she began to curve her body rubbing her crotch against your hand.

“I'm so wet.” She made a fake moan, trying to provoke you. “I'm pretty sure you could sink that whole cock into my pussy so easily right now.” Her eyes, her mouth and her entire body were breathing fire, and you weren't afraid of getting burned.

“And what are you supposed to be waiting for?” You played along, murmuring close to her ear as you pulled down her panties and she kicked in the air until she sent them flying away from the bed. “Help yourself.” You gave her another effusive kiss while holding your hard, erect member, offering her a clear sign.

Karina then sat on you, a few inches from your penis, in fact, it was now held upwards, resting on the girl's stomach, and you couldn't have a better view of her at that moment.

She licked the palm of her hand, then running it over your tip, rubbing it insistently in circular motions. One of your eyes closed trying to resist, you were trying to avoid having to beg her at all costs. You were lucky that she was madly horny and couldn't stay playing with you much longer.

She rose just enough to be able to insert the tip of your penis into the entrance to her pussy, slowly descending, allowing you full access to her interior in one go.

A long sigh left her mouth once her butt made contact with your thighs, staying still for a few seconds staring at the ceiling with her eyes closed and a smile on her face. Your hands caressed her thighs, going up to her hips and abdomen, leaving one of your hands lightly pressed against her stomach.

She looked down to make direct eye contact with you while still smiling. Her hands handled yours on her stomach, moving it gently over it.

“I can feel you perfectly…you're so fucking big inside me.” She moaned, beginning to rock back and forth in small movements, without breaking your skin-to-skin contact.

Each time the distance was greater, leaning back and returning forward until it collided with the palm of your hand, a sensation so wonderful that you couldn't describe it in words.

“You're so tight, I could cum at any moment.”

At that moment, Karina's hips began to rise and fall on your cock, riding you and giving you the vision of how your cock entered and left her pussy, each time more abruptly.

“Sorry darling, I would love to have a creampie from you, but sadly today it will be impossible.” She said between moans as she continued bouncing over your dick.

You had to be careful then, you thought internally, letting yourself be carried away more and more by the pleasure, grabbing and squeezing Karina's tits in your hands that were bouncing in the air with ferocious movements.

She rode you harder and faster with each ride. Now placing her feet on the bed and squatting over you, your hands traveled to her ass, pushing yourself even further, making your cock enter even deeper inside her, stirring her insides and making her scream with pleasure.

She continued like this for a few more minutes until suddenly she opened her eyes and mouth wide, suppressing a moan, and made eye contact with you again, completely clouded by pleasure.

“I'm cumming.” She announced riding your cock now in a crazy way and as if those words had turned on a switch in you, you also responded, giving the best you had.

“Fuck yes, just like that make me cum please, please, please…” The way she begged you, her face twisted with pleasure, her body trembling on yours. If there was a paradise after death, it must be something like this.

“Shit shit shit shit!” She screamed, standing on the bed and making your penis come out of her pussy, rubbing her hand frantically against the folds of her pussy, letting out a powerful jet of fluids over the sheets and over part of your crotch and abdomen. You couldn't believe what you had just experienced, Karina had squirted directly on you.

She fell to her knees on the bed, exhausted, trembling, with her legs closed as well as her eyes, breathing heavily, trying to recover from that intense orgasm.

You approached her from behind, surrounding her body in a hug and placing a kiss on her shoulder. She turned to you, smiling with a tired expression.

“That was…”

“The hottest thing I've ever seen in my life.” You interrupted her. “We can rest if you need it.”

Karina glanced at you over her shoulder before leaning over the bed, resting her palms and knees on the sheets, bringing her butt closer to rub against your cock.

“You said it yourself before…we don't have much time.”

You automatically groped her buttocks, and in response, she moved her ass at a faster pace, as if it were a dance. You grabbed your cock and lined it up with her entrance, penetrating her again, making you both moan again.

Karina's twerking didn't stop, not even when your hands gripped her waist, turning your thrusts into much more carnal movements, and causing your own hips to crash hard against her ass every time you buried your cock deep inside her.

The movement of the girl's ass was simply hypnotic, it seemed that her entire body was a sensual spectacle, made by and for the enjoyment of the sexual act.

Her moans of pure pleasure and her desperate pleas asking you for more and more did nothing but heat up the atmosphere even more, and increase your body temperature along with your lust.

You raised one of your hands and let it fall on Karina's buttock in a loud spank to her ass. She let out a small squeal and turned her head to look at you, with lasciviousness in her eyes that you had never seen before.

“Use my body all you want, tonight I'm yours.”

Without a shred of self-control to stop you or make you think at all, you grabbed a handful of her hair in your hand, pulling it back, making her moan. Karina's body sat up until her back was pressed against your torso. With your other arm you totally surrounded her stomach while your hips did not reduce the pace of the thrusts.

One of her arms wrapped around your head as you began to kiss and lick her neck. Your hand let go of her hair and held one of her breasts tightly, pressing her closer to you to prevent her from falling forward but taking advantage of the moment to squeeze it between your fingers.

After a few minutes you released her from your grip, returning to the initial position, not lasting too long there as you immediately pressed one of your hands on her back, forcing her to lie completely face down on the bed.

Your hands tightly gripped the sheet on each side of her head, your thrusts were deeper, burying the entirety of your cock inside Karina, who for some time could not stop moaning uncontrollably.

She tried to silence her moans by biting the sheet, but you instantly leaned gently on her to bring your mouth to her ear and whisper.

“Don't even think about it.” You said, putting a hand on her neck and making her turn her head to remove the sheet from her mouth. “I want to hear you scream.” You whispered in her ear, giving her another spank on her ass.

Karina left that position and turned around on her back, opening her legs for you, while you looked at her with some confusion in your expression. You could see how some tears welled up in her eyes.

“Do you want me to scream?” With the help of her hands, she opened the folds of her pussy, showing you how it was completely wet and dripping. “Then fuck me properly!”

She did not show anger, but her voice and expression were completely authoritative. You smiled when you saw her in that state and bent down to reinsert your member into her pussy.

Despite all your attacks on her tonight, her pussy was still fucking tight, squeezing your hard cock to the point of satiety. That didn't stop you from continuing to pound into her as if it were the last thing you were going to do in this life.

You continued attacking her mercilessly, lowering your head to lick her breasts and then going up to kiss her lips, while your fingers pinched her nipples.

You grabbed the back of her neck as your cock ceaselessly disappeared inside her body, and she rolled her eyes due to the pleasure she was receiving.

“Fuck me please, fuck me please, FUCK ME!” She desperately demanded while you felt the walls of her pussy contract. 

You came out of her, replacing your cock with your fingers, rubbing her folds in the same way she had done some time ago, achieving the same result, another huge jet of fluids straight from her pussy.

You didn't give her time to rest this time, as you grabbed her legs, pulling her to the edge of the bed, holding her body in your arms to lift her up and make her hug your body with you standing.

It seems that despite being tired, she anticipated your idea and surrounded your waist with her legs and your neck with her arms, also lifting her butt, allowing you to insert your penis into her more comfortably.

You grabbed her ass and started rocking her body upwards, making her bounce on your cock incredibly.  Your moans were silenced by your lips, devouring each other without mercy.

After a while you noticed how your legs were wobbly, your hands were clinging tightly to her butt and once again your penis seemed ready to unload everything you had inside.

“You're going to cum for me, right? I want your cum all over me” Karina smiled mockingly on your lips, caressing your hair and your cheeks, you could only nod your head.

“I need to make a mess in that pretty face you have.” She smiled widely.

You separated her from your body, being careful not to fall, and she quickly knelt in front of you, leaving her head at the height of your penis, which you were stroking violently while Karina waited for you on the floor, sticking out her tongue.

You finally released yourself and large streams of semen fell onto Karina's beautiful face, covering it almost entirely in a matter of seconds until you were completely empty.

“Fuck, you came so much.” Karina exclaimed, trying to clean the mess you had caused on her face with her hands, taking the opportunity to lick her fingers in the process.

On the other hand, you were exhausted, panting heavily trying to recover from the tremendous effort you had just made. Even so, you noticed some pressure on your member again, you looked down to discover Karina grabbing it with one hand.

“Let me help you.” She whispered, putting it back into her mouth and making movements with his tongue trying to collect as much of the fluid remains as possible, cleaning it.

“I'll be right back.” She said, standing up and walking past you towards the bathroom, earning a spank on her ass as a tip and turning to give you a satisfied smile before disappearing out the door.

You fell onto the bed, emitting a tired sigh, closing your eyes for a few moments, and seeking to rest your body. After a while you felt the bed move next to you, you opened your eyes and turned your head to the side, seeing how Karina, also now lying next to you, was looking at you penetratingly.

She smiled at you and came close to your body. You put an arm around her shoulder, allowing her to lie on your chest, which she caressed with the palm of her hand. With your free hand, you lifted her chin towards your face to kiss her sweetly.

Karina circled your neck and settled into her position, making the kiss increasingly passionate and needy, to the point where she was practically lying on top of you again. You broke apart, panting and smiling at each other.

“Can't we stop the time?” You asked, making her giggle. She approached your lips again, this time kissing you very slowly.

“Thank you for tonight, I really needed something like that.” She let her head fall between the crook of your head and your shoulder, and you hugged her, pressing her body against yours.

“I guess it all ends here, right?” You asked, caressing her hair, and she turned to you, planting a soft kiss on your cheek.

“I'm sorry…but let's do this.” She said, getting out of bed and walking over to grab something from her bag, a cell phone, and walked back to you. “Give me your number, let's stay in touch, you know, in case we meet again.” She said, winking at you and handing you the device.

"I'd love to." A huge smile formed on your lips as you recorded your contact on Karina's agenda. Once you finished, she snatched the phone from you, throwing it somewhere nearby on the bed, and climbed on top of you, kissing you again desperately.

“There are still a couple of hours until my flight departure, I have to be at my hotel before my staff wakes up, or I will be in trouble.”

“It's more than enough for me.” You whispered before returning to devour each other with renewed energy, it seems that your dreamy night still had another chapter to be written.

[aly4khq]

A DRAGON'S LAIR! ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*

— sum: You were exploring Tarus city as a self mission, trying to find the dragon who was told to have lived in the city for many years to come. You thought that you would encounter barely anything, but you were ever so wrong.

— characters: dragon!sylus

— warnings: pining, he tops ur clothes, double penetrartion (he had too dicks), improper use of his tail, manhandling, biting, fuckin from behind. (if i have missed any, please inform me!)

— wc: 1,746

You've never been one to lerk into unknown territory or to find refuge in a random city that you learnt about in a history book — it's never been in your nature at all. But once you saw the posters, you knew that it was a place of worship and surprise.

Tarus city, a city where it's been claimed to have a dragon that laid in the depths of a special cave. The cave was highly risky for any normal human being, I mean, the image that laid on the posters was frightening enough to keep away tourists. The unusually greyish-red that scattered around the cave's entrance, moving around like a line circling a branch, a black thick coating around it which looked like claws when compared to each other, the singular hand on the top leading to the cave like it was inviting you.

You loved mythical creatures so this was a field day for you, you needed to go.

There was also a garden which yearly grew beautiful flowers there, crimson in colour and rose in shape. They scattered everywhere, and they seemed to have been planted by a very skilled gardener — if there even was one back in the early years of life. Oh how you'd love to distress by rolling in there after a long day, what a dream.

But you weren't just there for the cool looking dragon, you were there for the sword. Like that playground sword that you had to remove from the ground, and whoever could move it was the 'chosen one', there was one that laid outside the cave, imbedded in the beautiful scenery of flowers and healthy grass with its delicate pattern leaving you with mysteries.

"Where did it come from?" "What does it symbolise?" "How did it get there out of all places?"

Who owned it?

Well, let's just say that you weren't too scared to find out. You needed answers and if you had to dig into a random mythical cave then you will. Despite the lack of information, you searched up any little tips to help you navigate inside of a cave.

You needed to be prepared, and properly prepared.

After a while of constant climbing and exploring the beautiful long yards of greenery, you stood face to face with the cave that was feared the most back in Linkon City, aka the Dragon's Lair. In the papers, it looked like absolute horror capturing in a frame but in person, it was gorgeous.

The cave was expanded and opened for anyone to come into, and you'd did just that. Entering the cave, you turned on the flashlight you brought, seeing insta treasures of many different kinds of art scattered around the walls of the cave. "Wow...this is cool..." you softly murmured to yourself, still engrossed in the scenery—

...what the hell was that?

A deep and raged growl sped through the walls of the cave like air, filling your eyes with an intense sound. Hissing, the growl's sound waves led you to an expanded room, where a big bed-like item was in the front, surrounding by more jewels of ancient treasures. You found yourself searching around, looking for what this place could've belonged to.

And after 5 minutes, you dug in, "What's the worst that could happen?"

Searching the amazing rich items on the floor, your bag got heavier and heavier with time. Each jewel that caught your eye went in. Some of them even had ancient symbols on them, now that's a lot of money.

But, a singular gem caught your eye. It was a necklace that had a black substance scattered all over it, laying on the bed that was in the middle of the room. "Oh?" your hand went out, curious, "This is peculiar."

The necklace was a beautiful golden chain, wrapping with ancient knots and twists so it was bonded together perfectly. On both sides of the pendants scattered around the necklace, there were small, very intricate patterns dented into the metal. It had a pocture of a dragon on the front, and it...was weirdly shaped. Like the top half was crossed out, but forget that, you just found a good millions of money in your hands.

"Well, that's been a nice journey here cave, thanks for the new finds and...yeah. I'll be going."

You turned for the entrance where you came from, and it was blocked off by a large bolder. "Huh..? Why...who?"

You turned around to find a way to get out when a tail wrapped around your waist, pulling you down to your knees in a rapid manner. You scrapped your knee on the harsh carpet. "Ah! Hah...ow.." You tired to arise from your forced position when you heard a deep voice.

"Were you never taught of etiquette? Or was it just you who missed out?"

He boomed over you, a...handsome man. He was silver hair, crimson eyes and weird black claws and a tail. His clothes bleeding in with his skin.

This isn't the dragon. I mean, it's a literally human being?

"Etiquette? Who are you?" You replied back harshly, not thinking before you spoke. Remembering quickly, it was too late, his tail went around your body before whipping the skin behind you thighs. You yelped, cursing the man-dragon above you.

"You!—" "Me what?"

He arose from his throne, walkijg menacingly to grab your waist before pulling you up to your feet. He turned you around, your back against his toned chest. His hand went over your chin and upper neck, pushing your head back to his shoulder with a smirk.

"Maybe I should teach you," he bite your collarbone before growling, "how to respect a dragon's cave."

"Gahh—Ugggg, you're so deep!—"

"Focus."

That same dragon had you bent over the same drawer you had stolen from, your clothes ripped from his sharp claws just where you soaked pussy was.Your back arched like never before and his hand still around your chin, his teeth biting and sucking on your collarbone with delight. His hips were slow but deep, reaching your cervix with long strokes, his dick sending you into a wave of pleasure.

"What's the answer?"

He'd made you write down the rules of entering his cave again, the pencil shaking vigorously in your trembling hands. The paper soaking up your falling tears as you begged and pleaded with the man above you. "Hahh— Sylus— please...! Please! I might just—"

His tail traveled down your clit, gently caressing it with the peek of the tail. "Write it down, or I'll do even worse." He threatened, and you obeyed, grabbing the pencil and harshly writing down, "I will be respectfu—"

"Ah!!" His hip gave you a sharp thrust, a warning to behave and write properly. His hand groping your wee cheeks to the point that you could feel his claws digging into your flesh. "You have one more chance." With every word, he thrusted harder until you shrieked, your body bending more forward to escape his powerful hips, you pussy squeezes into the life out of him.

Your hands went back, trying to push his pelvis away from you. "Hm?" He hummed, his eyebrow rising before you hear a chuckle, "Want me to slow down sweetie?" His voice was playful, yet you nodded quickly anyway.

"Too bad." 



He sped up, his hips snapping so fast with your to the point where it echoed in the room. Your hands banged on the drawer, lookijg for a way to soothe to intense pleasure that you were being given. You couldn't even speak, your face fucked out and your body slowly weakening.

"S-Sy...luss...I can't...! Please..." You begged, trying to find a better way to convince him to give you a break. His dick the was so deep that you thought that it was two dicks at once. It felt so huge, and more struggle.

The stretch was too much, you yelled, "Sylus! Why is it—" You gasped loudly, relent that he had two massive ducks in you at the moment, both of them lodged deep in your pussy. In that moment, you nearly passed out. "Ahh ah hah...hahh!!" You cried out, tensing, "Pleaseee..."

"You're fine, just one more." Sylus cheered on, his tail moving up to caress your back, travelling down the straight line. His tail met your ass, gently put slowly digging it into your other hole, "No! No no, please, i can't, please," Your whole body was shaking, your sweat coating your skin.

"Mhm, fine, for now." Sylus replied in a teasing tone before continuing to roll his hips into yours, and by that tight squeeze he knew that you were close. You stood a little, crying, "I can feel it!— I need to pee—Why does it feel like I need to pee?!—"

He reassured you, speaking in your ear, "It's normal, you're fine, just relax." You wasn't breathing at all. He grabbed your chin again before ordering you, "Cum."

Your orgasm hit you, your lungs not being able to take in oxygen due to the sheer force of your release. The intense feeling was still shocking you, your hands braking some of the wood of the drawer due to your grip. Your legs shaking like no ever before you felt his claws tap your chest, "Hey, Breathe."

You took a deep breath in before covering your mouth, instantly being met with fatigue. "I need a rest...I can't feel myself..." Sylus chuckled at your position, his hand goijg around your waist to carry you to his bed. "It's okay, you took both off my dicks, well done."

"I knew you'd come along," Sylus hummed, "so just relax my Queen, I'll take care of you.

this is not proofread! i was too eager to post so sorry hotties!

@ aly4khq, do not plagiarise, translate or copy my work. (30/11/24)