#i had this idea floating around in my brain for a bit

[whimsical-sonic]

i have a little au floating around in my brain

[dirtychainsawconfessions]

I need an oiled up twerk contest between nubbins and choptop I know this sounds like a joke BUT ITS NOT! I want that I NEED that!!!

📬 If everyone sends a letter about this to their local member of council, maybe- just MAYBE.....

they will be extremely confused and ask please that you do not write to them about this topic again

[jonny-b-meowborn]

Y'know I can barely call myself a writer, since I haven't finished anything serious in years, and the last time I wrote a full story I was a young teen and wasn't really good at it, but goooooood I wanna release a book. Like before I started doing visual art my dream was to be a writer, like, with published official books that you can buy and read. And I still do love writing but recently ive been leaning more towards writing fanfiction, which isn't a bad thing, I just wish I could do both. And like, I have so many ideas that I want to write, like original stories that I'd kill to have published someday, but there's absolutely no motivation in my brain. What the FUCK happened to the brain power I had as a kid, when I'd start writing any idea I had with no critical thought, and I either finished it or not but at least I tried, and I'd write all the time, so many short stories that were honestly shit quality but at least I was doing something. Ough

[rottingghosty]

The Matriarch | DC X DP (again)

if you ever wonder in the future why most of my ideas come to me at night please let it be known i am a night owl and also i work graveyards and thats when my hamster wheel of a brain starts working. once again there will be errors cause its 2am as usual and i just write these when the idea comes and cannot bother to correct myself. this is an old draft

prompt: Gotham City is a hub where the supernatural gather, only few were allowed to establish a line in the very core of its being. It was notoriously picky about who were allowed, it was here where the Devin family- relatives to the Wayne family had settled briefly before a portion of the family separated from the main family. It was when Danny turns to attend Gotham University where he stumbles upon the who is the matriarch of his bloodline.

Danny couldn’t help but stare at the Dullahan before him, her head was on her neck but held on with ecto fishing line as stitches and a black ribbon tied around to hide them. The Dullahan gave a smile as she tilted her head curiously, a soft laugh escaping her.

“I’m uh Danny. Danny Devin.” He had abandoned the Fenton name quickly enough after he ran away a few years ago after the reveal went wrong, he remembered how his aunt Alicia mentioned that rarely anyone in the family drop the Devin name and that his mother was one of the few was a shock to the others. In Gotham, there were countless Devins— all relatives and non relatives but they took care of each other like it was nothing. He ignored the thought of aunt Alicia being disappointed how quick his m— Maddie had changed her tune about the supernatural.

“I don’t get why your ma changed her mind like that. She could’ve been the best in the family but meeting Jack changed her. She’s not the Mads I knew.” Aunt Alicia told him one night, when he called her to let her know he was okay but he couldn’t go back home.

She accepted, never questioned and its why she was one of the few he kept in contact with. She’d been the one to tell him about their bloodline— how attuned they were with anything involving the veil and how death tended to not keep them down.

“We’re an omen, our very essence is connect to those involved in death. Maddie forgot that.”

“You are one of mine, yes. I can feel it.” The Dullahan said softly as she reached out and ran her fingers through his hair, his core releasing a pleasant trill at the affectionate touch. He hadn’t gotten affection like this often, his par— Jack and Maddie would pat his shoulder of give him a hug but it wasn’t enough. Jazz would try her best but she tended to avoid physical contact and he couldn’t blame her— not when the adults in their family were more focused on ectobiology over being there for their kids.

The touch was filled with motherly warmth and if Danny was in ghost form he believed he would’ve been floating off the ground and following the touch like those cartoons of people floating off to follow the scent of pies. It’s like his very core knew he wouldn’t get hurt, that the Dullahan would rather be Ended than cause harm on one of her own.

“My name is Maeve Devin, you can call me grandma or granny. If that feels uncomfortable, aunt Maeve is fine as well. As long as you are in this city, you are under the protection of mine just as the others are. Lady Gotham is a family friend.”

Aunt Maeve said as she brushed his bangs away to take a closer look at his features just as he took in hers as well. Her skin was pale and she had long red hair in loose curls and it stopped at her waist. He could see various streaks of white that peeked out whenever she moved her head. Blue eyes similar to his own, she was a bit shorter than him since he’s been gaining height after finally being able to catch up on the nutrients he needed when he was still in high school.

She wore clothing that was casual, a loose band t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants but he honestly wasn’t surprised cause it is a weekend and he hadn’t planned on visiting his mother’s side of the family yet but he somehow found his way here.

“Oh the Bats will adore you.��� Maeve murmurs and Danny was kinda afraid, he doesn’t know what the Bats are but he can definitely hear the capital B in the word. Should he be worried? He wants to be worried but he decides to trust Aunt Maeve because he knows Fae can’t lie.

Oh wow his family are descendants of a Fae. Huh, is that why he’s horrible at lying? He mentally puts a pin on that thought for future Danny to handle.

“Come, the others wish to meet you.” Aunt Maeve tugs him along deeper into the house— it was more of a manor and Danny has a silent crisis over the fact that the Devin family are rich enough to afford a manor as he crosses the threshold of the house.

tldr:

i just like the idea that danny was bound to die at any point because his family is bound to death from maddie’s side and its why he got chosen to be a halfa by the realms when the portal opened and basically killed him enough to bring him back. death’s the grandmother who likes her grandbabies but definitely picks favorites on the ones near death to give them a gift thats basically ✨the very being of death (maeve for example)✨

maddie’s side of the family are heavily connected to the supernatural/death scene but maddie cut ties to that and became very anti supernatural because of jack and its why she’s that way today. alicia’s disappointed but doesnt fight maddie on it because everyone else cut maddie off and alicia worries for her sister yk. phantom reveal gone wrong, alicia called aunt maeve to take danny in and maeve pulled some strings so he has a ride to gotham u.

danny has yet to realize that since maeve is a dullahan, death was always going to come to him because she had visited once because the scent of death on danny was STRONG before his accident and he saw her briefly before it. once he realizes he has many feelings about this and it doesn’t help that the wayne family reek of death.

he’ll settle in the devin manor and claim it as his haunt one day but also danny’s silently like “what the fuck” because his bloodline is fae??? WHO THE FUCK SMASHED A DULLAHAN??? all while bruce gets a surprise visit from maeve who drops danny off to be babysat (despite him being 18) and is like “cousins. play nice, i have to hunt :)”

every supernatural in the devin family were human once before they were blessed (in a fucked up way) by death

[dollfacefantasy]

Under the Influence ♡

pairing: dick grayson x fem!reader

summary: when you and dick are left with an extra sedative after a mission goes wrong, you share a little fantasy of yours with him

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, intoxication kink, drugs + drinking, praise + degradation

word count: 3k

tags: @nexysworld @gor3-hound

"I wonder how it feels."

The simple sentence falling from your lips was the start of this whole thing. Dick turned to where you sat at the bar next to him sipping your drink. He raised an eyebrow, trying to determine if that was some sort of attempt at a joke.

"I don't think it's a real mystery," he says and shrugs, "We were basically gonna roofie the guy."

The two of you had been assigned by Bruce to follow a suspect potentially involved with a string of recent kidnappings. You were to incapacitate him, and then bring him to a rendezvous where he could be questioned upon his return to consciousness. Only the problem tonight was that the target hadn't shown up where he was supposed to, leaving you and your boyfriend with an extra sedative on hand.

"Yeah, I know that," you respond with a roll of your eyes, "But... I don't know. You never wonder how it would feel?"

"No," he nearly laughs at you. He struggled to see why that thought would ever cross his or your mind. Taking another swig of his drink, he can see you leaning in closer out of the corner of his eye.

"You never think about how it would feel, getting all dizzy? Drifting off and feeling totally dazed, other people doing everything for you?" you ask, your voice getting softer as your breath fans over his ear.

"No, but I'm starting to get an idea why you might," he says and glances over at you again, "You have something you wanna tell me?"

Next thing he knows, your hand is on his thigh and you're looking at him with the sweetest pair of puppy dog eyes you can manage. Your nose is close enough to brush against his own. If he had to guess, he'd say you'd had this little fantasy for a while now.

"Lemme try it, Dick. Gimme the pill," you plead, "It'll be fun. Everything'll be up to you, every thought in my head up to you."

A smirk grows on his face at your devotion. Your desire to give him so much control over you that it felt like ownership. His fingers come up to your jaw, holding you by the chin as he kisses you. It's lingering and wet. A little bit of saliva coats your bottom lip when he pulls away.

"Y'know... if you wanted to try something like this, all you had to do was ask," he says lowly.

Smiling, you peck his lips again as his hand slides past you to drop the tablet in your drink. You nip at his bottom lip before pulling back and reaching for your glass to down some more of the liquid within it. You go to put it down, but he stops you by your wrist.

"Not yet, sweetheart. I want you to drink the rest for me. You want your head to get all nice and fuzzy, don't you?" he says.

You nod while staring into his pretty blue eyes. The cup returns to your lips and the rest of the booze slides down your esophagus.

"Good girl," he croons. His amorous smile begins to reach his eyes as his voice continues to lower, his words meant for you and only you. "Let's get you another one of those before we go."

He orders one more, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. Once the bartender brings it to you, his lips find the space behind your ear and tease you there while you drink.

"Look at you, doing so well for me. You're so eager to shut that brain of yours off," he coos.

You nod again and nurse your glass until it's empty. Your head is already starting to swirl a bit, and you wonder if the blossoming arousal in your belly has any effect on it. You can't help melting into Dick's affection right now, your head floating over to rest against his. He hums in approval and nuzzles the crook of your neck.

"Feeling it already, baby? Or do I get you dizzy all by myself?" he mocks.

"Shut up," you mumble, your eyes fluttering shut. It felt like the music was slowly getting louder while your surroundings were sliding further away. Dick was the anchor keeping you from slipping away with it all.

He chuckles at your defiance and decides it's time for the two of you to head out. The drug was entering your system, and Dick didn't think it would be the smartest idea to make your exit by tossing you over his shoulder while you were knocked out.

He tucks you to his side and guides you over through the doors over to the car. He can almost see the gears in your head slowing down on the walk to the vehicle alone. You stay pressed up against his toned torso until he can get the passenger door open and deposit you in the front seat. Once he's done, he leans down, buckling you in and giving you a quick kiss on the lips.

"Such a sweet girl," he praises before heading over to his own side of the car. You lazily preen at the compliment. He can't help but laugh at how delayed the reaction is.

The drive back to your apartment feels like it only takes a minute. You don't know if that's because Dick is as eager as you are or if the sedative has already stolen your perception of time. All you know is that your eyes start to droop, and your head tilts over and bonks against the glass window. It feels nice and cool though, so you keep it there.

When he parks the car, you feel like you're still in motion. The world feels like it's spinning all around you, rotating in every direction all at once. You don't even hear his commands to you before he opens your door and you nearly topple out onto the pavement. His quick reflexes and strong arms spare you a busted up face.

He smiles as he pulls you up to stand beside him and locks up the car. You're considerably more out of it than you were while leaving. He leads you to the elevator and pulls you inside. Standing behind you, he laces his arms around your waist and rests his chin over your shoulder.

"You wanna press the button, honey?" he murmurs in your ear. His grin becomes absolutely smug as your head wags back and forth in a haphazard gesture for no. "Oh, why not? Need me to do that for you too? Silly girl, can't even hit a button by yourself anymore."

He pushes you against the wall as the elevator car starts to move. The spinning feels even stronger than before now that you're physically moving vertical. He kisses you deeply, his tongue sliding into your mouth and tussling with your own. He can taste the liquor on you. The manifestation of your mental state.

A few seconds later, a ding sounds through the confined space. You miss it for obvious reasons, but it nearly passes Dick by too. He's so wrapped up in you, his hands sliding up your sides to cup your breasts. But he does reluctantly pull away, reveling in how disheveled you look from less than a minute of making out.

Now he has the privacy to take you over his shoulder, and he does. He boosts you by the hips and drapes you over himself like it's nothing. You giggle too loud for this time of night. Your feet swing weakly in what are probably your distorted mind's version of kicking. He gives you a firm swat on the ass while walking down the hallway to your shared unit.

"Calm down, angel. Don't wanna drop you on your head before we get to the best part," he teases.

You laugh more, the idea of a cracked skill greatly amusing your intoxicated mind. He shakes his head with amusement and squeezes your ass cheek. As soon as he reaches the door, his free hand fishes the keys out of his pocket and makes quick work of the lock.

He kicks the door shut behind the both of you and glides through the apartment to your bedroom. You go flying onto the mattress when he flings you from over his shoulder to the soft blankets. More little giggles pour from your lips, and he takes a moment to enjoy the sight of you, his usually focused and determined girlfriend squirming on the bed and laughing her ass off at nothing in particular.

Crawling onto the bed, he positions himself on top of you.

"What's so funny, baby? Think you should share the joke with me?" he says as he leans down to kiss you again.

Your lips kiss back as best they can. His shaggy black locks brush across your forehead as he deepens the exchange, picking up where you left off in the elevator. You're still simpering slightly against his lips, but it doesn't stop him from keeping your head in place and absorbing you through the kiss.

"What's got you so happy, hm?" he mocks.

"You," you grin against his lips.

"Me?" he asks between smooches, feigning ignorance, "I'm the reason you got that pretty smile on right now."

"Yeah," you laugh and boost your head up overzealously for more.

He pushes you back down and kisses you harder before pulling back completely and gazing down at you. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb rubbing over your skin. You return the look with glossy doe eyes, only somewhat aware of everything that's going on.

"Are you sure it's me? Or is it my kisses?" he asks teasingly, "I know how you love kissing."

"Those are the same thing," you say as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh, are they? My mistake, princess," he says and ducks down to give you more.

He can feel your limbs wriggling underneath him, trying to slip out of your clothes. It's too big a task for you right now. Your movements weren't strong or coordinated enough. All you managed to do was get tangled up in your outfit and make it look as if you were wearing a straightjacket.

"Woah, woah," he chuckles, "Let me help with that, baby. That's too hard for you right now, isn't it? Your brain can't handle all that."

With his careful movements, he maneuvers your arms out of your top, and removes your bottoms as well, leaving you in a delicate pair of panties and your bra.

"So precious," he coos as his fingertips ghost over your now bare skin.

You squirm like a virgin and smile shyly like Dick isn't your boyfriend but rather a little crush. It's now his turn to laugh at your behavior.

"Yeah, you know you're precious, don't you? Even when you're all dumb like this," he says while his fingers work away at the clasp of your bra, pulling it from your chest.

You sigh as your tits are freed from their confines. His mouth trails down your jaw, over your neck, and to your chest. He kisses your cleavage first, just massaging the mounds of flesh with tender hands. It's not long before his lips move up one of them and latch onto a nipple. He swirls his tongue around the bud and feels it harden from his efforts.

You moan and arch your back, the drug erasing the part of you that suppresses your reaction to pleasure. Your thighs rub against one another until his hands slide between them and pull them apart. He grinds himself against your center, drawing more mewls from you.

"That feeling good? You're never gonna be too out of it to understand that," he breathes before licking a stripe over your one nipple and moving to the other.

He quickly removes his own shirt so his skin can press against yours while his mouth works on your breasts. Your hips roll against his as he continues to grind. His bulge grows harder and he can already tell that the fabric of your panties is clinging to your folds from how wet you were.

His hand slips down to confirm his theory. He chuckles against your tit when he feels how slick you are. Completely soaked. His digits slide through your arousal with ease.

"We're gonna have to do this more. Who knew all it took was a few drinks and a tiny pill to turn you into a total slut," he mocks.

"'m always a slut for you," you slur and reach up to pull his hair, wanting his lips back on your own.

He indulges you and moves up again to kiss you.

"That's true. Bet you were wet before you even took the pill. Your pussy was probably dripping just imagining it," he mutters.

His fingers hook around the hem of your panties and tug them down. He then works on shoving his own pants off and releasing his stiff cock from its restraints.

"My pussy drips whenever I look at you," you say. He knows it's supposed to be seductive, but it comes out sounding like a confession. That and you burst into another giggling fit after. Either way he finds it cute.

"That's cause I've got you so well trained," he tells you as his length springs free. He pumps it while guiding it to your entrance. "She knows to always be ready for me. Even when your head can't keep up."

He slides it in you with no resistance. Your heat welcomes him readily, squeezing around him with instinctive speed. You choke out a moan from how he sinks all the way in. There was no need to go slow or tease. You were ready, and you were in no state to be teased. Your pussy squelches around him as he rocks his hips, starting to thrust. You turn your head to his own to try and bury your face against him. The pleasure felt more distant in a way, but it was still present and building with every stroke.

"There you go, sweetheart. This is so natural for you. Head empty with your cunt stuffed full," he croons, "Taking it like a perfect little whore."

You whine and nod faintly, the words swirling around the air before sinking into your head. He ruts into you harder. Your juices gush from you and smear over both of your skin while your head bobs from the momentum he's putting into fucking you.

"Dickkkkk," you whine and grab at him aimlessly.

He presses you harder down into the bed and grunts against your neck. His fingers hold your hips tight enough to leave marks. Fine with him. He wouldn't mind a reminder for the next few days of tonight.

"Surprised you can even remember my name, babydoll," he taunts.

"I'd never forget that," you babble.

He chuckles breathily at your words. They were pretty sweet to come out of someone getting pounded into the mattress. Sounds of his skin smacking against yours emanate through the room. His shiny hair becomes damp with sweat.

"My baby, all mine, yeah?" he murmurs. 

No response comes from you this time. Instead, you yelp as he swivels his hips and drills into a special spot inside you. Every time he strikes it, it's like any remaining power you have to function seeps out of your brain.

"Oh, there she goes," he coos as he watches you slip away, "That's my girl."

"Dick, fuck ah-" you whimper weakly.

He nuzzles your cheek. "Don't try to talk. That's too hard for you right now. Pretty little thing like you just needs to stay quiet and let herself get fucked full."

"Mkay..." you mumble. Your expression is a mix of that stupid little smile from before and a pouty look you often took on when you got horny. He couldn't get enough of either.

"Fuck... 'm gonna cum soon, angel," he groans. You tighten up even more like you're trying to keep him inside forever.

He hisses at the sensation. Shoving his hand between your bodies, he slides his fingers over your clit, stoking the flames of your arousal to get you to explode for him.

You're not lucid enough to tell him you're close. You just let go. Your eyes flutter and your legs kick. Your heels dig into the mattress while you gasp and whine in his ear.

Once you've cum, it's like a switch flips in your brain, and it knocks you the fuck out. You're babbling nonsense for him, panting and clinging to his sweaty body as best you can while going limp. You vaguely feel him cum inside you, the familiar warm and comfy feeling of being full overtaking you.

He collapses on top of you after he releases. Waves of pleasure still course through him like aftershocks. Your bodies feel like one as your chests puff against one another's.

Eventually he climbs off of you, and looks down at you to see how gone you are. He chuckles softly as he watches you try to curl up and sleep right then and there. He goes into the bathroom and grabs a towel, returning to clean the both of you up.

You can sort of feel it. It's a gentle swiping feeling. He's so careful with you though, so gentle. He makes sure no touch startles you or hurts. When he's done, he slides a fresh pair of panties on you and pulls an old t-shirt over your head. You sway in place as he does it, and he finds your perpetual daze as cute as all the moans from minutes ago.

"Almost done, sweet girl," he murmurs as he finishes up. The words don't register exactly, but you understand them as a comfort. The low and soothing tone he used was familiar enough to you for your mind to understand it without specifics.

When he really is done with everything, he finally returns to you. You pull at him with grabby hands and curl right up to his chest, wanting to be held. He was never one to deny you normally, so there was no way he would while you were all sleepy and confused. He pecks your temple and rubs your back, prepared to baby you until the sedative has completely left your system.

[ferrarifinnick]

RESURFACE! | LANDO NORRIS, 4.

*REWRITTEN! this new version is IT!!! think i fell in love while writing this. where does one acquire a yacht so i can make this my reality ??? also, first lando fic woo!! what do you think? anyway, enjoy!

warnings: masterbation, pda, fantasising, a little bit of public play, oral (f receiving), teasing, squirting, uncomfortable eye contact, charles leclerc, ruined orgasm.

1.9k words

lando really tried. he tried, but no matter how long he racked his brain for, he never got any closer to understanding why wet hair got him so hot. and not just any wet hair, only yours.

it started in monaco. one afternoon, far out in the sea on his shiny new sailing boat, he got the clever idea of daring you to jump into the salty water with him.

with his hands on your waist, he begged. “come on,” he said, pulling you closer to the railings on the side of the boat.

you pushed his chest weakly and said, “don’t want to get my hair wet, lan,” but it hadn’t convinced him to back down.

“do it for me, baby,” he tried again, big hands pulling your hips against his. “gonna look so pretty all wet.”

he meant a lot of things by this, and part of him meant exactly what you were thinking. but what he hadn’t meant was your hair. not specifically at least.

but when your hips wiggled out of his hold and you swung a leg over the railing, he wasted no time climbing over with you. he wrapped a strong arm over your chest once you settled on the other side, letting his fingers snap at the strap of your bikini top.

“ready, baby?” he asked, his free arm rested between the railing and the back of your leg, his pinky finger tracing over the side of your thigh.

he spotted a snag in your brow, and recognising the oncoming wave of doubt, he chose to strike. he slid his hand under your bikini top and squeezed your breast, pinching your nipple and rolling it before you could entertain the thought of backing out.

you slapped at his hand. “lando!” you gasped, glancing over at your friends on the other side of the yacht.

“yes, pretty girl?” he said, and who were you to say no to such a sweet little smile? even if it was intending to fool you, you melted at it and threw away your doubts for it. your hand slid around his wrist, peeling his hand from under your bikini top, and laced your fingers in his.

and with your hand joint together, you leapt off the side of the boat, broke through the surface of the salty water together. but only you resurfaced.

lando held his breath. under the privacy of the disturbed water, he swam down until his face was level with your fluttering legs. his hands once again found your hips, but this time he took hold of your bikini bottoms.

he slowly slid them down your kicking legs until they rested halfway down your thighs. still kicking your legs to float, lando waited until he become familiar with your motions. he waited until he spotted a gap between your kicking thighs, one that was big enough for his head. his open mouth pushed out the salt water, and he licked a stripe over your exposed slit. even under water he could taste you.

your thighs clenched and you bucked your hips into his touch. lando’s cheeks stretched for his grin, and he kept grinning as he circled his tongue over your bundle of nerves, holding you hostage with big strong hands to your thighs. but eventually, he had to resurface to take a breath.

but he couldn’t breathe when he joined you above the water.

he couldn’t breathe because he worried the sudden rush of blood to his cock might weigh him down to the seabed.

there you were, treading water and scowling at him, and yet all he could see was the salt water in your hair. weighing it down, darkening it, plastering strands of it over your damp forehead.

lando couldn’t look away.

“you’re not drowning, are you?” you asked him, and for a moment he considered that’s what might be happening. swallowing mouthfuls of salt water, losing the fight to stay afloat, all because his cock was vacuuming the blood from his legs. it was quite wonderful, really. his brain kindly blocking out the fear of impending doom so that his final picture could be of you.

moments passed and suddenly lando was very aware that he was not drowning. he couldn’t be, because if he was drowning, he wouldn’t have been able to slip a hand under his bloated swim shorts and squeeze his solid cock.

you didn’t notice. you obliviously treaded water, and even though the motion made your breasts bounce, lando couldn’t find it in him to notice. and lando always noticed your breasts.

“lando?” you asked again and only then did he realise he’d not answered you. he’d just been fisting his cock underwater, barely treading water enough to keep his head above the surface.

worse, he forgot his friends were in view.

he glanced up at the boat, and to his relief, everybody was busy looking at something in another direction to his one.

he released his cock nonetheless and slipped his hand out of his swim shorts. he moved it to your ass cheek and leaned in to press a kiss to your wet cheek.

“spaced out for a second there,” he lied.

“nearly drowned, more like,” you shot back, and he cupped a hand and dragged it up, splashing your face with water. the shriek was enough to satisfy lando that he’d quashed any suspicion you might’ve had about his drowning.

you planted a kiss to his lips and made for the ladder on the side of the boat. as you swam, your hair suffered the blows of salty waves, and lando’s shorts suddenly grew even tighter. when you re-emerged on the ladder, your hair was heavy, dark, sleek, and so dense with the water that eagerly dripped down your back, over the curve of your ass, and down the thighs he’d just stuffed his head between. he wondered, naturally, if water would drip from your hair onto his cock if you sucked him off right now

“you coming?” he heard you call, already halfway up the ladder on the side of the yacht.

“soon,” he promised, and gestured for you to get back on deck.

and he kept his promise. he swam to the ladder after you’d settled back on the boat, spread across some cushions strewn across the deck. lando climbed up a few steps, but only to the point where he could just about make out your whole body.

he glanced over at where his friends were gathered on the other end of the boat. perfect. they were too busy throwing back beers to notice the absence of either of you, and they probably wouldn’t even notice lando perched on the ladder if they happened to glance over. probably.

satisfied, lando peeked up at you, one arm curled through the rungs of the ladder as his other hand squeezed at the tent in his shorts. he kept himself shielded behind the railing, which at this angle would hide him from you if you turned around to look in his direction.

he doubted you would. not while you laid on your tummy, nose in a magazine, thong wedged immodestly between your ass cheeks. but lando paid no mind to anything but the darkened, heavy hair that clung to your back. so, so wet

if he pressed a hand against you hair, he knew water would gush out. his cock twitched, and suddenly his hand was slipping underneath the waistband of his shorts again.

he squeezed his fingers around his painfully stiff cock and hissed as he slowly rolled his wrist up and down it. it was solid. not hard, but fucking solid. did he normally have such prominent veins that he could feel them bulge under his skin? were his balls always sticking up so high, like they too wanted to take a peek at you? he suddenly thought about asking you those questions with his cock pointed right at your face.

he should show you his painfully stiff cock and let you examine him. you’d know. you’d have all the answers he’s looking for. he knew it, because never once has he ever had to ask you to pay attention to his cock. you were always volunteering to fall to your knees for his cock, and you’d always insist on pumping his cum over your face, down onto your tits, and sometimes you’d even get back up to your feet just to bend over for him to finish on your ass.

that’s always his favourite move of yours. what kind of a slut do you have to be to bend over and spread your ass cheeks, just so your boyfriend can choose a hole to cum at, not even in!

so yes, you’d know if his cock was ever usually this hard.

he pictured how you’d peer over your magazine right now and stare up at his cock, eyes narrowed with focus. you’d run your eyes over his thick shaft, maybe then your lips. you’d squint at the plump veins his thumb kept brushing over as he pumped to your wet hair, and maybe you’d have to run your tongue over them just to be sure.

maybe you’d take him in your mouth, to investigate his cock a little closer. he ran his index finger up the middle of his balls, the same way he thought you’d do with your tongue, and then he dragged it up to his tip, imagining the wet trail your tongue would leave behind. lando’s thumb replaced his finger to swirl around the tip, collecting the precum dribbling out of his cock. you’d lick it off. lando was certain of it, because he’d watched you do it so many times before.

you suddenly turned the page of your magazine. lando flinched at the sharp thwick and froze. he stared helplessly as you whipped your head to the side, wet hair flying over your shoulder and landing on your back with a slap. you’d caught him. he knew it. he squeezed his eyes shut pathetically and wished for you to turn back around. but then he felt the droplets of water from your hair land on his chest.

suddenly lando remembered a night you shared together in his hotel room in monza. he had your legs hooked over his shoulders, raw cock pounding your pink, sopping wet slit. he’d never seen a girl’s pussy actually pour before. but yours did. every thrust of his cock drew out a slosh of juice, until you suddenly pressed your hands against his chest in alarm, but it was too late.

over his chest, and even in his face, you covered him with your juices. he made you squirt. no, lando norris made you spray. just like lando norris made champagne bottles spray on podiums.

and here he was, perched on the side of a ladder, droplets of water – your water – dripping down his chest and landing on his cock like lube, as he pathetically pounded his cock to you.

he must have been red in the face, and he was panting so loud he worried you might catch him. but when you flicked another page and whipped another wave of droplets from your hair onto his chest, he caught the flash of your little smirk.

you knew.

his wrist sped up and he squeezed his leaking tip even tighter, as if it really was your tight pussy gripping onto him. he was bullying his cock for you. and when a droplet of water sank from your hairline to your lips, your tongue poked out to lick it.

his abs tightened and his balls shot up, and he wasn’t thrown but forced into his release.

his friends weren’t far, and you were close enough that his panting was too loud to hide from you any longer. but he didn’t care. not as much as he cared about covering your wet hair with his cum. so he hung off the side of the ladder, cock in hand, fist fucking himself through his orgasm to your wet hair as he came on the side of his own yacht.

but right as the ropes of cum shot out of his tip, charles’ head popped into view.

“lando?” he asked.

lando very nearly fucked a hole through the side of the boat as he threw his hips against it. from this new angle, charles wouldn’t be able to see his cock or the cum spilling out of it. hopefully.

charles frowned and asked, “what are you doing down there? are you stuck?”

lando caught you glancing over your shoulder at him—was that a smirk on your face?—and for a second the ropes of cum shooting out of his cock felt a little less awkward. but he quickly forgot about that as charles bent down further and offered out a hand.

“let me help you, mate.”

“no!” lando choked out, humping the side of the boat against his will. “no, it’s- i’m okay,” he said, suddenly aware that the hand charles’ motioned to take was actively being covered in cum.

charles was all he could seem to focus on now and he squeezed his eyes shut to ignore him. this isn’t the face he wanted to be cumming to.

“please go away,” lando nearly begged.

charles left right as the last dribble of cum leaked out, and in defeat lando let himself slide back into the water. he floated on his back and wondered if his sudden bad luck was to be blamed on moving to monaco.

it must be an ancestral curse. punishment for fleeing rainy britain for hot, sunny monaco. now he was to be plagued by wet hair and forced to cum looking into the eyes of his monegasque friend instead of his girlfriend. hah! that’ll show him to think twice about leaving!

and it did.

lando considered handing in his letter of resignation. selling the keys to his penthouse in monaco. going into hiding somewhere charles would never think to go looking for him.

but on his back, floating helplessly in the sea, he saw you climbing halfway down the stairs. the water still dripped down your back as you swiped your finger through the cum he left on the side of the boat. you threw your head over your shoulder, looking right into his eyes as you sucked his cum from the pad of your finger, as water droplets fell onto lands chest once again.

in view of his friends or not, he didn’t care anymore. he dipped his hand underneath the waist band of his swim shorts again, running his own cum over his cock as lube as you sank into the sea.

and when you eventually resurfaced, it was with hair so dark, so sleek, and so fucking wet.

yachting with lando… dreamy. like, comment, reblog. love <3

[ofbatsandballads]

so it’s a day early but have a little Valentine’s Day with Jason drabble except reader is a bit unhinged and very in love with Jason. inspired by me getting split knuckles and thinking “wow this would be so much cooler if I got them from punching someone.” also idc if damian is ooc here bc you can pry good brothers Jay and Dami from my cold, dead hands.

Jason Todd is used to fighting. He knows thrown fists, black eyes, and bloodied hands better than he knows himself. He’s been fighting so long that it’s second nature; sometimes he tires of the fight and sometimes he aches for it. It all depends on the day and his mood. Sometimes busted knuckles are a pain in the ass to clean and sometimes he enjoys the sting of a job well done.

Jason is used to seeing other people fight. It was the one constant in his formative years. He saw Gotham’s worst fight daily when he was a little kid doing his best to survive the city’s unforgiving streets. He saw Gotham’s best fight nightly and fought alongside him as a bright-eyed teenager. He sees his siblings fight routinely, knows how they do it like he knows the back of his hand. Dick is graceful; he floats through the air before he kicks you in the face. Tim is practical; he hits you where it hurts, seeks to destroy. Damian is ruthless; he toes the line between life and death like he was raised on it. He was; they both were.

Jason has not, however, seen you fight. Until tonight that is. Oh, he’s seen you argue before. You’ve got a smart fucking mouth—he loves it, even when it gets you both in trouble. But physically you’ve always been nothing but gentle and calm. He’s the one that intimidates, that scares off anyone who tries to flirt with either of you with his crossed arms and his face that screams “I’ll kill you”. Yet there you are in the middle of the ballroom where he left you, clutching your fist that has just connected with the nose of some CEO’s son. He freezes for a split second in pure shock. Then his brain comes back online and he’s trying to push through the crowd of people to get to you. His brother beats him to it. Dick picks you up around the waist and swiftly hauls you out of the ballroom.

Jason’s torn between running after you and cornering the guy you just punched to finish what you started. He doesn’t get to make that choice because a small but strong arm grabs him and yanks him hard toward the door that you just got dragged out of. He looks down and sees Damian, and something instinctual about this situation makes him follow wherever the kid goes. It wouldn’t be the first time Damian led him away from a fight and it probably won’t be the last.

“What the fuck just happened?” Jason asks his youngest brother as they wind through the mazelike halls of the penthouse.

“Well, akhi, your beloved just assaulted a man in the middle of father’s Valentine’s Day gala,” Damian responds coolly.

“Yeah, I kinda picked that up, saghir. Why did she assault a man in the middle of the gala?” Jason presses.

Damian bristles at the term of endearment. Jason can tell he’s about two seconds away from arguing that he’s not little anymore, Todd. He seems to consider your hitting a man a more pressing matter, though, because he starts to explain what happened. The guy you punched—some dude named Prescott—had decided it would be a good idea to flirt with you. You turned him down quickly and bluntly with a simple “No, I’m here with my boyfriend.” It all went downhill from there.

“He then asked who her boyfriend was, and when she said you, this imbecile asked why a girl such as herself would be with, quote, ‘a charity case like him’,” Damian relays with thinly veiled disgust.

Jason was used to comments like this. It was all he heard during the three years after Bruce adopted him. It used to make him mad or insecure, like maybe Bruce never truly wanted him. Maybe he just wanted to feel like he was doing something good. But then he died and came back. And he hated B for so long. Until he didn’t. Until he realized that maybe he never did, maybe he just wanted proof that his dad loved him and maybe he felt like he didn’t have it. But with time and patience and a lot of pain, he’s now reasonably assured that he’s not just some billionaire’s charity project. If that were the case, then Bruce would’ve stopped trying a long time ago with him. So the spoiled brat’s comment doesn’t really bother him. He knows that didn’t mean that it wouldn’t bother you, but he can’t figure why it would make you angry enough to deck the guy in the middle of a full ballroom.

“That’s it? She punched him for that?” Jason asks doubtfully.

“No. She first told him that he clearly lacked the empathy to even know what the word charity meant. She also made a snide comment about how his gala attire could, however, be seen as a charity case,” Damian chuckles, clearly amused by your silver tongue.

“Well what’d he say that made her hit him?” Jason demands, his anxiety starting to spike.

He had seen it happen, but he’d been mixing you your favorite cocktail and had missed the actual inciting comment. Damian pauses like he doesn’t want to tell him. All it takes is one hard look with those sea green eyes and Damian finds himself caving like he did as child in the League when Jason would catch him hiding from his newest (and soon to be deceased) sparring partner.

“He said that her tastes shouldn’t be counted considering she was with—” and Damian grits his teeth, forest green eyes absolutely seething, “damaged goods.”

Now that’s a different story. Jason doesn’t care what some privileged rich guy thinks of him, but the idea that other people could see what he already knows hurts. Jason knows he’s damaged goods, knows that you deserve far better than him. And apparently so do total strangers. So how long until you finally see it and leave him like you should have a long time ago? How long until the one truly good thing he’s ever had the pleasure of holding in his hands slips through his fingers and leaves him broken again?

“And then she broke his nose.”

Damian’s jubilant laugh shakes him from the angst he finds himself descending into.

“She what?” Jason asks dumbfounded.

“She broke his nose. I was standing right next to her, Todd. I heard it crack. You’ve trained her well,” Damian says proudly.

Jason’s in awe. You broke someone’s nose. For him. And you did it in front of a room full of people on Valentine’s Day. Jason’s sure this is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for him. And either your love for him has finally settled into his bones or his new therapist is actually doing some good, because he’s suddenly not so worried about you up and leaving him because he’s damaged. You fucking clocked a guy for pointing it out.

Finally after what feels like far too long, Damian leads him to a bedroom tucked away in the penthouse. And there you sit, giggling away as Dick wraps your hand in an elastic bandage. You must’ve sprained your wrist breaking poor Prescott’s nose. Jason is by your side in an instant.

“Jason, there you are! Did you see what I did? Did you, Jay?” you ask enthusiastically.

“Yeah, I saw. Think you might’ve broken his nose, baby,” he teases.

He takes the bandages from Dick and starts to wrap your wrist himself. He gestures for his brothers to get the hell out and hopefully go clean up the mess that’s waiting down the winding hallways.

“That piece of shit deserved it. I would’ve hit him again too had Dick not dragged me away. Think I would’ve gone for his throat next,” you muse.

Jason wants to think he’s above finding this new violent streak of yours sexy. He’s also self aware enough to realize that he’d be deluding himself if he said it didn’t make him want to kiss you senseless.

“I’m sure he did, doll. That was very sweet of you, defendin’ my honor ‘n all,” Jason praises you.

“That was nothing. Child’s play, really. I would do anything for you, Jason. You’re my whole world.”

You say it with such sincerity, with so much love that Jason swears your eyes gleam with it. It makes his heart jump into his throat, makes his chest ache with the need to love you until the day that he dies. And if that day comes too soon? Well, he’ll drag himself out of the grave and come back home to you no matter what it takes. He’d like to tell you all that, but he thinks it might be a bit much. He settles for kissing you instead and nudging his nose against yours when you finally break apart to breathe.

“And you’re mine. C’mon, honey, let’s go home. Valentine’s Day isn’t over just yet.”

[delespresso]

DETESTATION ━━ Fiyero x fem!reader

author's note; this was previously titled 'kiss me' lol. i cant lie, i was sort of just winging it with this one — i've been doing a lot of rivals to lovers u guys, my brain is a little confused now 😭 idk if i liked this but i hope its good! <3

prompt; “You can’t just…kiss me to win a fucking argument, [NAME]!” “You’re right…but did it work?” ps; i changed it up a bit, oops

summary; the constant back and forth was totally out of total detestation. . . right?

━━ ☄. *. ⋆

It was the third invite to the Ozdust Ballroom within the month.

Ever since the Winkie Prince showed up at Shiz a few months back, he's been influencing quite a few trips to the scandalocious venue. In fact — he started it immediately on his first day.

She didn't plan on going this time either. Even if the invite had come directly from him, while he was following her tail all over campus.

"C'mon, princess, it'll be fun," Fiyero urged as he walked behind her like a little puppy.

Typically, she refused to even be in his vicinity. With her luck though, somehow Doctor Dillamond decided he needed a tutor to push him through history class — so of course, she was chosen, being the current top student.

"Think of it as me thanking you for helping me ace history," Fiyero continued.

He did, in fact, ace his history after that. A whole A solid.

"For the millionth time, Fiyero, no," she huffed.

He rolled his eyes at another rejection, still following her as they found their way into the dining hall. It was sparse at the moment, they were quite early this time.

"Your welcome for history. But that's it," she added.

She grabbed a tray, starting to put food on it. As she did though, the infuriatingly charming — and annoying — prince stole a piece right out of her plate.

"You should learn to live a little. See the nightlife. Go dancing. We don't live forever, you know?"

She stared up at him as he just went on his little ramble about life.

"If you're worried about a dance partner—"

"I really don't care—"

"I'm sure Boq is very kind to help in that," Fiyero said with a sly smirk.

Respectfully, Boq was nice and cute in a way, but she would much rather drink a tub of toxic elixir.

She could only scoff in response, picking up her tray and finding a seat. Still he refused to let up.

"One night. Its just one night, it really won't kill you," Fiyero insisted.

"It won't, but I might kill you."

She set her tray down with a huff, but she didn't get the chance to sit yet before he was pestering her again.

"I've lived quite well, I wouldn't mind dying at your hands," he shrugged.

"Are you serious right now?" she scoffed. "I have a fork and knife an inch away from my hands, don't tempt me."

"Oh, how horrifying," he mock gasped.

Oh, this little—

"Truthfully, I find a death by my history tutor to be a beautiful exit," he continued with a smug grin.

"You have no sense of self preservation. My hands would be a painful way to die," she retorted.

He didn't miss a beat, grabbing her hands in his in such an oddly gentle manner that had her brain crashing for a moment.

"These soft hands? I find that hard to believe."

She blinked rapidly, just staring at the way he held her hands to his chest for no reason. Why was her head spinning? Why was her pulse rushing?

"You're infuriating," she managed to hiss as she pulled her hands away.

Really, she had no idea why this man annoyed her so much. She felt an irrational amount of irritation when he was around. Her head would sometimes go empty when she looked at him, her heart suddenly going too fast and her stomach feeling like it was floating.

Dislike. Pure, utter, dislike. Loathing, perhaps. Detestation.

Those were the only acceptable answers.

She ended up taking her lunch to go, bringing it with her to eat somewhere else where she could escape him.

"Come dancing tonight!" he tried again even as she stomped away from him and replied over without turning back.

"Eat grass!"

It was her roommate that dragged her to the Ozdust Ballroom that night. No one else.

Certainly not the persistent, annoyingly handsome prince. No.

She allowed herself to have fun for a while, dancing around with her roommate. She didn't catch a single glimpse of him so she assumed he bailed.

She would be absolutely wrong when she ended up twirling right into his arms.

Fiyero's hands were on her waist, keeping her right there as her hands ended up on his biceps. He grinned down at her, that casual and laidback smile he always had.

"You came."

"Not because of you."

He chuckled at her quick defensiveness. It was cute to him. Taking her hand, he gave her a quick whirl before pulling her close again.

"Of course not," he agreed.

"Plenty of other reasons to come to a party," she nodded.

"Mhm."

"Nice ambience, people in nice outfits," she started to list aimlessly.

"Yes, they do dress up nice," he continued to agree.

"Good music, exceptional dancing—"

"You dance well."

"Random excuse to dress myself up too—"

"You look lovely."

"The lights are quite nice too, all blueish—"

She didn't get the chance to keep yapping when suddenly a pair of warm lips were on hers. It felt like she was on fire. A good kind of fire. When she opened her eyes again and their lips parted, she met his gaze under the lights.

Her lips were parted, her breath catching. Her face was definitely flushing and Oz— her head was reeling. She was too flustered she ended up fumbling her words.

"You can't just kiss me to win an argument, Fiyero!"

He laughed at her reaction. In hindsight, he should've probably not do it out of nowhere. But her reaction was priceless.

"Yeah, probably not. But it shut you up," he mused.

She stared up at him, eyes wide as she was clearly baffled.

"You need to stop finding excuses, princess," he teased, giving her yet another whirl.

Her dress flared out before she ended up back with him, flush against his chest. Whatever she felt for him was strong. Though she was starting to suspect it wasn't actually detestation.

She'd likely been in denial.

"You need to not kiss someone without permission," she retorted anyway.

Fiyero only smiled, but at least he nodded sincerely with a bit of a shrug.

"Fair enough. Sorry," he agreed. "Can I have a redo?"

She raised a single brow up at him, this time catching up with the dance way better than when she initially ended up in his arms. A coy, almost teasing smile pulled on her lips as she casually ended up leading the dance.

"Let's see your dancing first, Winkie Prince."

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[arjwrites]

crawl home to her- dean winchester x fem!reader

summary: heaven or hell, dean will always crawl home to you.

warnings: brief mentions of hell, references to drinking, fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i got a bit carried away with this one and it ended up a little longer than anticipated hehehe i had too many ideas. this song is so sickening and is so dean-coded in the very best way. i hope you enjoy <3

arj's 100 follower event

xxx

Dean awoke in a permeating blackness, blinking his eyes, unable to tell at what point they were open or closed. His first instinct? To draw in a deep, sharp breath. His lungs resisted him, hesitant to stretch and swell as if they had been sitting stagnant for months. They offered him no help in forming words, a call for help. It took him a minute to gather his bearings, but the next thought that came to his mind? You. And from that moment, his body took over. As he kicked his way out of the pine box and clawed his way through the cold and heavy earth, he felt almost animalistic. He didn’t know where he was, he hardly knew who he was, but he knew he had to crawl home to you. Wherever you were. 

As Dean emerged from the ground, he gasped for air- clean, fresh air. It swirled around inside of him, exacerbating the emptiness of the cavern of his chest. He grappled with the earth around him, arms reaching out in a desperate fervor to pull him safely from the grave. There were sensations everywhere, almost screaming at him, so loud and foreign as if he hadn’t experienced them in… he didn’t know how long. The tickling of the damp grass against his arms, the hot sun beating down on his back, the heavy breeze settling behind him. It was you, he thought. It had to be your way of welcoming him back earthside- planting soft green kisses to his skin, wrapping him in healing warmth and light, and lifting him up to carry him home with the wind. He let his body push him to his feet, feeling every flex and release of his muscles individually, excruciatingly. 

 It was agonizing for Dean to will one foot in front of the other, trudging aimlessly in search of civilization. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the hunger, but he could see you right there next to him, clear as day, coaching him through each step of his journey. You floated along next to him like an angel, filling his emptiness and setting direction in his footsteps. 

He thought back to the day your paths had been undoubtedly intertwined forever. You and Dean had known of each other for a while- hunters always did- but never exchanged more than a few cordial hellos in passing. That was until a vampire hunt in a small town drew the attention of more than just himself and Sam. When you showed up on the hunt, he couldn’t help but be enamored by you. The way you made hunting, something so dark and painful, into something so graceful, so elegant, so beautiful. 

When he was able to convince you to stick around and celebrate after finishing the hunt, Dean felt both his heart leap and his stomach sink. As he drove, he kept glancing up into his rearview mirror to catch a glimpse at you, following behind him in your own car. He wracked his brain, trying to come up with conversation topics like he was rubbing together stones trying to create a spark. He was so excited to have you around, yet so nervous- an accusation he defended against when Sam taunted him on the ride over to the bar. 

“I don’t get nervous, Sammy. I- I don’t know, man. There’s just something about her. Can’t put my finger on it.” 

His eyes flickered back up to the rearview mirror as he spoke, catching you singing along to whatever song you were listening to. His heart fluttered- he wanted to know you, to memorize your favorite songs, to hear his inner thoughts spoken in your voice. In the here and now, where he was trekking through the woods, he smiled at the memory and let it instill in him a surge of motivation. He picked up his pace, humming your favorite song as he went, half to keep him grounded in the moment and half to help his mind wander back to you. 

Still thinking back to that first day, he remembered getting to the bar and admittedly, letting his nerves get the best of him. He threw back shots and tipped back beers in the hopes of quelling his anxieties, suppressing the parts of him that weren’t useful and drawing out his confident, personable self. Sam had left early, as usual, leaving the two of you alone, sat at a table in the corner of a crowded bar. The surface was a graveyard littered with empty bottles and glasses, very few of which belonged to you. You had been nursing your drinks, sipping slowly as Dean downed and gulped. So when he got a little out of hand, you were there to carry him home. 

When Dean woke alone the next morning, he was sure you had been a dream- too perfect to be real life, or his real life, anyway. His head pounded as he glanced around the unfamiliar motel room, noticing the single bed and feminine belongings that clued him he wasn’t in the room he had rented with Sam. He sat up, grasping at his head, trying to piece together where exactly he was. There was no way he had gone home with you. He remembered the way he had acted the night before, and how sober you had still been. You must have dumped him with a random girl to take him off your hands. His heart sank to his stomach- if he had messed up his chances with you, he wouldn’t forgive himself. 

Before he could linger in this fear for long, he heard two separate laughs nearing the front door. When it swung open to reveal you and Sam, chatting and clutching coffees and paper bags of breakfast food, Dean let himself flop back down to the bed in relief. Wishing him a good morning, you tossed him pain relievers and a water bottle, setting a coffee and a breakfast sandwich down on his- no, your- bedside table. You briefly recounted the night before for him, noting how you had brought him back here when Sam didn’t answer his phone. You didn’t dwell on his actions, didn’t poke fun, didn’t complain or criticize. Your presence was light as a feather, your body and voice floating around the room as you tidied things up or nibbled at your breakfast. Sam shot him a knowing glance that would later be supplemented with verbal approval. I like her, Dean. Don’t mess this up. 

Back in reality, Dean had finally emerged from the woods, stepping from the dense tree cover onto a dusty road. There wasn’t much to see- no buildings or signs of civilization in any direction. The breeze picked up and whistled through his ears in the form of your voice- keep going, Dean. So on he went. 

As he walked, sometimes his image of you would flicker and fade like a ghost and his thoughts would plunge back down to Hell. There were a few moments along his path where he would pause to hinge at the hips and dry heave in a desperate attempt to purge the memories from his body alongside the dust in his throat. It made him sick, what he did in Hell. At a few points, when he got too caught up in his thoughts, he’d come to a full stop. In those moments, he didn’t care if he lived or died. His heart ached for you, but he didn’t deserve you anymore. You were the only pure goodness in the world that he had ever known, and now, he was tainted beyond repair. But then would come the breeze. This time, it smelled sweet- miraculously, as there was nothing but dirt road and baking heat to scent it. It was beckoning him, calling him home. It was washing him of his sins. You didn’t care, you never would. Always kind, always forgiving. That was his baby. Sweet as can be.  The journey ended in your arms. At times, he thought it never would. He thought he was trapped, imprisoned on a long dirt path, being taunted with the promise of you like a carrot on a stick. But he found a car, found a map, found his way home. You didn’t believe it was him at first- why would you, when a long list of monsters seemed so much more plausible? But if Dean’s first act of repentance had been his passage home, his second act was proving himself to you. That it was him, here and now, real and resting in your fingertips. All Dean knew was Hell. It was real, he had lived it. But when you reached out your arms to embrace him, Hell was just a word that dissipated into space the moment it left his lips. This must be Heaven. You must be heaven.

[ckret2]

Hey gang, time for Crowdsourced Brainstorming Time

for reasons, I've got to write Mabel and Bill watching (at least large chunks of) a full Color Critters episode, which means I need something more in-depth than the quick snips & summaries I've done for previous episodes, and I feel like brainstorming a kids' cartoon plot is the kind of thing where twenty brains are better than one.

The goal: episode plotlines that sounds like something you'd find in an 80s Care Bears or Rainbow Brite episode. We're going for "run-of-the-mill episode," not a plot you'd expect in a pilot or a finale or an exciting two-parter special event

the premise of the show: anthropomorphic animals are defending colors, which are magically tied to different concepts. Example: the color green and friendship: when friends are fighting it kills nearby green things and if green things are destroyed it negatively impacts nearby friendships. it's for kindergarteners and teaches simple life lessons that people in the 80s thought were a good idea.

And if you haven't lost interest in this post yet, I'm sticking the available characters under the read more

Good guys, the colors they're in charge of, and what that gives them power over:

Prisma the Rainbow Fairy - rainbows, white, light - she's basically just Rainbow Brite. Everyone else's boss. Unofficially the main character.

Glory the Unicorn - pink - no particular domain, just Prisma's second-in-command and bestie. A bit of a worrywart.

Leo Proud - Red - life, exercise, playing (especially active play like sports)

Teddy Tender - orange - health/healing, fun & enjoyable things (less active play like board games)

Sunny Cat - yellow - sunlight, self-confidence, personal strength/power/assertiveness. she and Leo are cousins

Love Bunny - Green - friendship, love, nature

Howell Wolf - Blue - creativity, storytelling, magic (he's a wizard, he's got a wizard hat). he's besties with Leo

Misty the Dolphin - indigo - serenity/harmony, cooperation. She can't travel most places due to being a dolphin and gets used in well-intended but dated episodes about accommodating your friends with disabilities.

some bird I haven't named yet, maybe a peacock - purple - spirit

Bad guys:

Duke of Smog - the Big Bad, floating cloud of purple-gray smog with red angry eyes. He only takes an active role for special occasions like the pilot episode and season finales; otherwise the other characters frequently reference him but he's rarely seen. Wants to destroy color and goodness. No Heart mixed with that one creep in the Rainbow Brite pilot two-parter, what was with that dude anyway, they built him up so much as a villain and then bam he doesn't even survive to be part of the actual show

Serpent Grey - the second-in-command and most frequently seen bad guy. snake that has a mane for some reason. Bosses around the rank-and-file bad guys, cowardly dumbass who thinks he's a courageous genius. Shreeky mixed with G1 Starscream if he wasn't trying to overthrow megatron. If this show actually existed in the real world and I had watched it at age 7 then Serpent would be my favorite character and I'd probably have shipped him with the Duke.

a big fuzzy tarantula I haven't named yet - well-meaning bumbling dumbass who doesn't seem to realize he's one of the bad guys and is just happy to be included. Think Lurky.

a bee I also haven't named yet - the most important thing to know about him is that in season 1 he was a bad guy but then a special interest group angrily wrote the TV station to say that bees are so important to nature and agriculture and it was shameful for a children's cartoon to teach kids that bees are bad guys and so in season 2 he inexplicably joined the good guys and it took half the season for them to air an episode showing he switched sides because the other bad guys were bullying him and the good guys were nice.

"Hey Puff how come you can describe the bad guys in so much more detail than the good guys even though they're much less important?" don't look at me

[pit-and-the-pen]

Don't Go

For day three of @acotar-omegaverse-week :All tied up 

Summary: Azriel helps you with your heat….maybe more than you expected. 

Warnings: smut (18+), alpha/omega dynamics, mating, knots, p in v sex, slightly rough, slight breeding kink, biting, cum eating

WC: 3.4k

divider by the lovely @tsunami-of-tears

18+ below the cut

You don’t know how you had lost track of the days. You normally kept a perfect record of your cycles, in a house full of alpha’s it was necessary to avoid any awkward situations. But here you were in the middle of a walk with Azriel when you felt that thin layer of sweat bead across your forehead. The way your skin suddenly felt too tight on your body let you know it had nothing to do with the summer sun and everything to do with the fact you had miscounted by a week. 

“Azriel.” You tried to whisper, pulling on the back of his shirt. He turned around and his eyes instantly went to your face, where you could feel the sweat starting to collect. “I need to go home. Now.” His eyes dilated as he caught your scent. The full wave of your heat washes over him as he faces you. He quickly nodded at you before pulling you tight against his chest and winnowing you both back to the river house. 

You were clinging to him so tightly that he had to pry your hands off of him to get you to lay down in your nest. Being very careful not to accidentally step in it. 

“Do you remember what we talked about last time?” 

His words floated through the air. You tried your best to remember what he was talking about. 

“Do you still want my shadows here?” He saved you the energy of having to remember. Now you want to sink into the ground. YOu had asked him at the end of your last heat if you could borrow his shadows. After Nesta had found you basically pawing at Azriel’s door during your last heat, you had the idea of them being around to keep you in check. A guard that wouldn’t be affected by an omega in heat. 

You nodded. Mortification quickly overrides the pain. 

“I need you to say it, my sweet omega.” And those words coming off of his tongue sent a hard cramp through you. Your core clenching around nothing. 

“Yes. Please.” You were forcing yourself to stay seated on the ground, to wrap a blanket tighter around yourself to keep from jumping Azriel. Those two words, my omega, had every part of your brain buzzing. But you were early enough in your heat to remind yourself that Azriel didn’t want you that way. His face when he had found your scent in the hallway last time was more than enough confirmation. 

“Alright. I’ll have the maids bring you some food and water. Okay?” He got up to walk out of your room, some of his shadows staying behind, already curling up around your body as you closed your eyes and tried to get the last little bit of lucid sleep you could get. 

----

Every second was torture. His shadows wrapped around your feet keeping you rooted in place when all you wanted was the male across the house. His shadows smelled like him and it did nothing to soothe your raging omega instincts. It’s not like you haven’t thought of Azriel like that before. That forest, smokey and downright mouthwatering smell that lingered on your skin for days after you would hug him. 

The shadows at least let you have your hands. Which were doing absolutely nothing to help the cramps wracking through your body. You currently have two fingers buried inside of yourself. Slick coated your thighs and the blankets underneath you, but it still wasn’t enough. YOu tried your best to muffle your moans and cries of Azriel’s name. A small part of you was ashamed for even thinking of him but it was impossible to think clearly with the black wisps curled around your ankles and torso. The weight felt wrong. Your body is crying out for a different weight, a warmer weight that wouldn’t be coming. Neither would you apparently. No matter how hard or fast you fucked yourself on your fingers, it still isn’t enough. Fuck it. You were about to crawl out of your nest and beg Azriel to help but the shadows wouldn’t let you move. Tears leaked out of your eyes as you struggled against them. 

Just when you were about to give up, you felt one of the shadows brush across your wrist. Settling around your skin in a way that pressed your hand further inside of yourself. Then the pressure was gone, letting your hand slip back out. It happened two more times before you realized what was happening. His shadows were helping you. And it worked for a little. That peak became a little bit closer to your grasp but it slipped away again. Your body all but screaming for Azriel. Having his shadows wasn’t a replacement for the real thing. 

You were writhing in pain less than an hour later. The shadows had let up enough to let you pad off to the bathroom, helping you draw the coldest bath the house would allow for. Again, it helped only for a moment before the water felt too heavy on your skin. You tried to get out, body feeling so weak that you just slumped back down into the half filled tub. Your arms were shaking with how badly your whole body was hurting. You could only pull your knees tight against your chest as sobs started to slip from your mouth. You rubbed at the gland on the side of your neck, itchy and tight. If you had any more energy you would have been shocked with how raised the skin was. But you could only sob harder as you scratched at your mating gland. 

A heat had never hurt this badly before. You had been alive for half a century, this was far from your first time alone. You couldn’t place just what exactly was different this time but something was. A small knock from your door had you flinching. 

“Sweetheart. It’s me.” Azriel’s voice called from the other side of the door. Your body almost buzzed in excitement before horror washed over you. His voice was tight. Signaling that he didn’t want to be here. Why was he here? It was then that you noted none of the familiar shadows were in the room. They must have gone to get him when you failed to get out of the tub. Something that had a small part of you preening. Alpha’ here to take care of us. That small voice in your head purred. But he wasn’t your alpha. Wanted nothing to do with you in that way. Another sob slipped past your lips that had him knocking on the door again. You didn’t answer. More content with sitting in the tub then having to face him. Another moment went by and you heard the door click open. 

The smell from his shadows had been bad but him standing in the doorway was a new level of hell. You tried to scramble to the other side of the giant tub, desperate to put any space between the two of you. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m just going to help you get out. Is that okay?” He paused, hands outstretched towards you. You ran your eyes up and down his tall frame and tried to remember how to speak. You could only nod, not trusting your voice. Azriel picked up a towel that was on the ground and approached the tub. When he picked you up, he made sure that none of your skin touched. He was so repulsed by you that he didn’t even glance at your nakedness. You knew he didn’t feel that way about you but it hurt something inside of you to see him not even react. He was an alpha, he should at least have a little reaction to an omega in heat. Regardless of how he felt about you. 

You tried to blink back the tears but you were in too much pain to stop them. You just wanted to sleep. Just wanted to be wrapped in his arms. You felt the slight fan of air from his wings as they flapped anxiously behind him. He deposited you back into your nest, carefully wrapping the towel around you to keep you covered. You expected him to run out of the room after but he was lingering at the edge of your bed. Watching as you buried yourself into the blankets. 

“You don’t have to stay. Az. I know you don’t want to be here.” You sniffled, instantly kicking yourself for how pathetic you sounded. His wings twitched again. 

“What do you mean, princess?” 

“I know you don’t want to be here right now. So just go. Thank you for helping me”

He froze. And for the first time you looked at him. His eyebrows pulled together, making his forehead wrinkle slightly. His cheeks were slightly flushed and you continued looking down. You sucked in a breath as you realized he was rock hard. You couldn’t force your eyes to look away. Not even as he spoke. 

“I thought you didn’t want me.” His words were tight. “Until my shadows started telling me every detail. Reporting back to me how sweetly you were calling my name. They were telling me how good you smelled, how wet you were for me.” His voice dropped an octave and it had your skin flushing. You didn’t have a response. 

“Do you want me to help you, omega?” You had to be dreaming. You must have fallen asleep or maybe you hit your head while you were trying to get out of the tub and this was a hallucination. Either way, you knew it couldn’t be real. Azriel wasn’t here in your room, inches from your nest offering to help you with your heat. 

“Omega?” The word was sharper this time and had you answering before you could think. 

“Yes.” 

“Yes what?”

“Yes I want you to help me, alpha.” And he was all over you then. His lips caught yours and you could have sobbed in relief. His hands chased away the scorching heat that trailed over your skin. But did nothing to help the emptiness you felt between your legs. He nipped at your bottom lip, teeth digging in in a way that had your back arching off of the bed. His scarred hands snaked up to rest on your breast. A hand going up to squeeze your nipple. You moaned his name and he pulled away from you, panting. 

“I’m going to ask you one more time. Do you want me? Saw the word and I’ll walk away.” 

A twinge of panic rushed through you at the idea of him leaving. So you didn't answer, only reached out for the collar of his shirt and pulled him back to you. You flipped him onto his back and crawled into his lap. 

“Yes. Yes. I’ve wanted this for so long.” You were trailing kisses over his collarbone. You started undoing the buttons on his shirt, kissing each inch of newly exposed skin until he was pulling the shirt off the rest of the way. He lifted you with one hand as you helped him slide off his pants. Not caring where they ended up as you saw his cock smack against his abs. Your mouth watered at the sight, slick dripping down your leg. He was perfect. Thick and long, a slight curve. And at the base you could already see the thicker red skin of his knot. 

You didn’t waste any time before you took him in your hand, lifting your hips up to guide him to your entrance. 

“Need to stretch you out first.” He gritted, a hand on your hip stilling your motion. 

“No. Need you now. Want your knot, alpha.” You whined, your free hand trying to bat the hand on your hip away. You didn’t understand why he wasn’t letting you sink down. You felt so empty. So close to what you wanted and he wasn’t going to let you have it. 

“I’m yours.” He said as he locked eyes with you. His hand didn’t leave but the force behind it was gone. Letting you, finally, fill yourself up with him. Your brain had stopped working. All thoughts are gone from your mind except for how perfect he felt inside of you. You chased away the last of the cramps as you started to ride him. Rocking your hips back and forth against him. A string of curses and garbled versions of his name left your lips as he tangled a hand into your hair, pulling your head back. His tongue lightly swiped over your scent gland and you exploded around him. Your orgasm leaves you seeing stars. That didn’t stop either of you. In one motion he had you pushed onto your hands and knees. The impact cushioned by the plush blankets underneath you. His thrusts were ruthless. The room filled with the sound of your bodies colliding with each other. Slick was still leaking down your leg as he wrapped your hair around his hand, pulling your back against his chest. His free hand trailed between your legs, rubbing circles on your clit until you were bucking into him. His lips were all over your neck until they landed near your ear. 

“Look at how perfectly you take my cock. Think of how good you’ll take my knot.” You whined and he nipped at your earlobe. “Do you like the idea of that? Me filling you up until you're round with my kids?” 

“Yes. Fuck. Wanna be full of you alpha.” You screamed for him. You could already feel your second orgasm rushing toward you, having no moment to come down. You could feel the edges of his knot started to catch on each thrust. You were about to beg for more, for him to fuck you harder, but a sharp feeling on your neck had you freezing in place. Not the right side of your neck, not the one that would bind you two together. Not the side you wanted him to bite. 

“Mark me, alpha. Want you. Bite me. Please. Az. Please.” You babbled. Tears streaming down your face again, but this time because you wanted him so badly. He was right there but it wasn’t enough. You wanted him permanently. Wanted your scents to fill the room, wrapped together. 

“Want me to mark this pretty neck, sweet omega?” You shook your head, crying out your pleas. He growled, the sound rattling your body. 

“Fuck. Just a little longer. Gonna cum with me?” You would have done anything he said at this moment. His knot almost locking you in place now. He was close and you could only moan and whimper as you felt it stretching you with every thrust. A few more well timed pushes of his hips and you fell apart. Right at the same time you felt him filling you up. The same moment you felt his teeth latch into the right side of your neck. Your vision blurred as tears sprung in your eyes again. The feeling so perfect that you barreled straight into your third orgasm. His mouth was clamped onto your shoulder, tongue soothing the bleeding skin. He rocked his hips back and forth as much as the knot would allow. You swore you could feel him pushing his cum further into you. 

You reached back and pulled Azriel off of your neck, joining your lips. You could taste your blood on his lips but you didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything else as you pulled him closer to you, tried to turn your body towards him as much as your current position would allow for. 

The tow of you stayed like that until his knot went down. Until he was pulling out of you. You felt his cum drip down your leg and whimpered at the feeling of losing it. 

Azriel only kissed your forehead, kissed down the path the tears had left on your face. He kept kissing down past your collarbone, your chest, until strong hands were pushing you to lay down for him. He placed sucking kisses to your plush thighs, down your legs and back up. This time his tongue collecting the trails of slick that coated your thighs. All the way until he got to your dripping cunt. You were about to say something to him, about to plead for him to hurry up when he licked a long stripe through your folds. Your hands shot to the back of his head as his tongue darted into your opening. Pushing his cum back into you. 

“Alpha.” You cried out. Eyes screwed closed as you felt wave after wave of pleasure coarse through you. There was something else there, some new edge of desire that had you reeling. You could feel his own heightened emotions. Arousal leaked off of him as he reached down to stroke his cock. He moaned into your folds, making your back arch off of the bed as you started to ride his face. He took every thrust perfectly. Not missing a beat as you used him to get off. Loud noises of your slick filling the room as you ate you out like a man starved. It was eventually too much, you were teetering from the edge again and knew it wouldn’t be enough. You needed him inside you again.

You pulled him off of you, a motion that had him growling until you parted your legs for him. It took him no time at all to cage you in, arms on either side of your head. You wrapped your hand around his leaking cock and guided him to your entrance. He pushed in so slowly you were a writhing mess underneath him as he sheathed himself full inside of you. HIs own moans matching yours as he threw his head back. Eyes squeezed closed as he started to move again. You went to wrap your legs around his waist before he stopped you, wrapping a hand around your knee to push it up against your chest. You didn;t think it was possible for him to go deeper but as he threw your foot over your shoulder you swore your vision blacked out at the pleasure. You couldn’t move. Only take everything he gave you. Each punished thrust of his hips against yours and you mewling against him. He took his time, long strong thrusts that had you clenching around him. Your nails clawed at his back, searching for any purchase against the torturous pace he set. 

“Good omega. Being so good for me. Can you take my knot again?”  

Your voice was long gone, hoarse from the screams and cries of pleasure so you could only nod, could only dig your nails into him harder to show him your agreement. He grabbed your other knee and pressed it against your chest, pulling you into a mating press that had you gasping for breath around the pleasure. You didn’t think you could cum again, but Azriel’s long strokes had you writhing underneath him. Begging for more. 

“Gonna fill you up again.” He growled in your ear. And then his knot caught again. The feeling pulling shudders from your body. A soft cry escaped your mouth as you came again. Not as hard as the first times but enough that it felt you panting underneath him. Clawing at his hair to bring his lips to yours again. 

Once both of you had calmed down a touch, he rolled the two of you over so you were on your side, legs tucked in behind yours perfectly. A part of you preened at the way he fit so well behind you, the way the two of you seemed to fit together. LIke you were made for each other. 

“I think we very well are.” He said into your ear, so close that his breath on your neck made you shudder. You didn’t think you had said the words out loud but all questions left your mind as he starting trailing kisses on the back of your neck, along the angry red skin of your newly marked mating gland. And that little press of his tongue, the way your scents filled the room. Not two scents anymore but one perfectly blended thing. It was that fact that had you drifting off to sleep in his arms. Heat perfectly quelled for the time being.

tag list: @ninthcircleofprythian @nocasdatsgay @sarawritestories @readychilledwine @milswrites @daycourtofficial @tsunami-of-tears

[itsquakey]

Forgotten Land DLC thoughts, theories, and hopes

While Kirby Air Riders is an addition I am happy to see pop up in the future, someone who loves story and a certain someone I am actually more excited for the DLC over the air ride sequel believe it or not. And man, do I have a LOT of things to point out and "theorize" what this DLC might be.

⬇️ Rambling below! ⬇️

First of all, the suspiciously jamba-heart-shaped comet which is covered in blue crystals and is pink/purple in the core.

I can maybe see either a purple crystal that has carvings or damage of some sort and light is reflecting off these impurities OR it's something and that weird round bumpiness are wings of some kind? Which is why there's lighting and depth on the "figure". Though it's hard to see and it's a very uneducated guess.

Another detail! The bits of crystal that break apart from the comet and go everywhere has been seen in a few games!

I believe the bits and pieces of comet that break off are the same as the weird crystal fellas we see in Kirby clash and Return to Dreamland in "another dimension". I wonder if somehow that comet had been floating around in the other dimension for so long those weird crystals grew over it and created an extra coating of some kind.

Moving on, it's interesting that these "potential another dimension" crystals are infecting the world around it, though something I find interesting is how the coins change in shape to a different stereotypical star shape. Keep that in the back of your noggin for now.

Moving on again through the video...we see...something?

The area is called Fallen-star volcano, and looks like is contains a pink/purple core surrounded by a orb on red an them dead, fingerlike shapes wrap around it. Not entirely sure what to think of this, though the core is a hot topic of interest to me in my brain.

Next! Now this is where my eyebrows started to shoot up a bit. A new little guy, who seems to be encased in some crystal. He looks vaguely kirby enemy-like, typical design, though the colors, little wings, and shape on their face interests me for reasons I'll go into later.

Also, a potential new waddle dee??? He seems to be an astronomer or hell, maybe they research the other dimensions or the ancients. It would be amusing if this is bandee in new gear, though.

Next up, HMMMMMM THIS LOOKS FAMILIAR

This fella is covered in crystal, likely protected with horns and a mask(?) shape that really made me go "oh shit?" Something else to point out, when kirby defeats this fella, you can see their body and eye more clearly. The egg shaped body is also interesting to me but that could be a reach.

Nothing else seemed to catch my eye in the video we got after this, but I definitely have a handful of theories and hopes, so let's move onto that!

THEORY ONE: COMING BACK TO THE FORGOTTEN LAND

One idea I have is that maybe somehow those who left the forgotten land have been elevated to "another dimension" and one of these beings has crash landed back to the land they once left, now infecting the land around it. There's no proof for this one, but I kinda just had the idea in my brain when typing this out.

THEORY TWO: SOMEHOW, VOID TERMINA RETURNED

This theory has more grounds to be true, with the idea that Void Termina has suddenly become reincarnated and is flung back to land in a jamba heart-like crystal. The "another dimension" crystals are spreading and creating new living things as Void termina's new form awaits someone to wake it from its slumber.

THEORY THREE: PLEASE BE GALA PLEASE BE GALA

I REALLY want this to be true, I do. And I actually have a entire story decked out here for y'all. What if...Galacta's death in Star Allies was a red herring this whole time. What if every time we've seen him it's only the version of him in that dimension/universe? And in every universe, every dimension, Galacta knight is doomed to that crystal imprisonment. However, in our mainline timeline, our version of Galacta knight has been hanging around another dimension's very bottom, collecting crystals and becoming a huge comet that looks exactly like the thing Galacta knight helped seal away all those years ago. Now, he was the one who had been sealed and could never be free from it again.

This comet, one day becomes big and powerful enough to move out of the other dimension, and fall right into the Forgotten Land. This giant comet, holding the greatest warrior, falls into the sea and creates its own island where his body is kept. The crystals spread and infect everything, even giving creatures an appearance similar to him. Hell, maybe the little blue guy we see (which has bee confirmed to work like waddle dees) either helps up undo the crystals, maybe freeing Gala and undoing the crystal takeover of the land. Or maybe it's like a Leon's soul thing? Maybe these guys are parts of Galacta's soul or sanity you need to collect and return to him???

Something about them is interesting though, they have the same star shape as Galacta's mask does and what we see other enemies have as well as the coins we see in the game. They also have wings that look like they're meant to resemble bird wings. These could have a connection to Elfilin as well. But back on course to Gala. What if the pink/purple we see in the grainy image is either him or his crystal prison? And once he is freed it is revealed that his hatred, fear, and contempt have become a living thing possessing him and practically being responsible for the chaos that was happening. Maybe, this main line universe of Galacta is the one who gets the happy ending, and gets to be apart of Kirby's group or just gets to live happily in the forgotten land. Also something something tons of lore dumps as we go. But I'm desperate for Gala content he's my second fav kirby character and I NEED more of him and this trailer really tipped me off to "Galacta like patterns". If any new videos or info drops I'll be on it but this is my hopeful ramblings for now. Art coming soon! I really wanna draw these little guys.

Add onto whatever ideas or story you wanna see in this DLC.

[meganegatari]

omg I know I’m a bit of a yapper with all these ideas don’t mind me, but what d’you think Ellie would be like during aftercare?

sorry about me yapping, my brain is rotted with so many ideas smh

no pls i always need more ideas!! i love these little bite-sized things where i can just yap for a bit instead of being insanely extra like with reqs and other things...VERY CHEESY, TOOTH-ACHINGLY FLUFFY RAMBLE AHEAD:

she'd be real sweet with it, of course. making sure you're okay, cuddling until the sun comes up, she'd run you two a sweet-smelling bath and make your favorite meal, she's just an angel!

right after the heat of the moment was over, the two of you would tangle up in the sheets, warm, still-trembling limbs strewn to all sides, cuddled up as close as humanly possible. chests up against each other, it was like your hearts were holding hands, the way they were beating in synch. she would just melt into you, hold you close to her, your face buried in her neck or chest so tightly, she'd stroke your head and make drawings on your back lightly with her nails. not enough to hurt but gentle as a feather, to calm and establish even more closeness, she loved tracing your smooth skin with her fingers.

after more cuddling, some conversations, checking in with one another and mumbling "i love you"s , she would get up very gingerly, and get both of you a drink of water, then return to bed to sit next to you. ensue more deep talks, pouring your hearts out to each other, telling each other everything. and we can't forget the jokes she cracks, as if its her life's mission to make you sick of her. during all of this though, she wouldn't be able to tear her eyes off of you, she would look at you with such adoration, the visible sparkle in her eyes almost made you shy. "stop looking at me..." you whisper, your face heating up under her stare. she grins from ear to ear and reassures you, "you're just so beautiful, i can't help it!" and you did look beautiful, she was right. it was her favorite thing in the world to care for and admire you. the satisfied post-sex glow looked good on everyone, her as well. pink blush on her features, auburn strands disheveled in just the right way.

then she'd run a bath and get in with you, still holding you close to her. she would wash your hair for you too, and you two would split a face mask for some extra pampering. you felt so loved, and questioned daily if your heart could handle this, because she proved to you endlessly what love really is and how much you deserved.

she would also make your favorite meal, whatever in the world you requested, you could request even something like unicorn steak, and she would immediately be up on her feet in the kitchen, delicious simmering sounds and aromas floating around her. humming take on me under her breath, naturally. bonus points if she wears an apron with nothing under it, lol.

you watch her while you sit at the table, mesmerized by her skillful movements and clear enthusiasm she had for caring for her love. when it was all done, she'd serve it to you with a flourish, "tadaaa, only the best for my everything." she was so smooth with it, always seeking to impress you, and when you tasted it, she watched your reaction with a toothy grin on her face, eager to know what you think. then later on you two would return to the cozy bed, tangling up together once more, but this time to finally fall into a restful and healing sleep, where you would meet in your dreams too. frolicking around hand in hand, you never imagined a better life with her, and were grateful for every day you got to spend by her side. <3

[vashwoo]

additional feature

pairing: vash the stampede x afab! fem!reader content: smut (MDNI!) cw: questionable usage of this man's prosthetic fingers, c.lit play, tristamp coded vash because of the arm color but the others can have some coochie as a treat a/n: been in my notes app for forever. i cannot believe my first fic in awhile is smut and it's even my first trigun fic. ashamed. shaking out the dust and sand from my brain just like vash shakin' out the sand from his arm.

brad is a genius and knew the blonde would gunk up his masterpiece with sand at some point... so he provided a neat lil feature to help shimmy out the granules from the tiny crevices!

On the desert planet that was Noman’s Land, sand was a cruel devil for mechanical bits and bobs. Constantly eroding the cheap lacquers and choking up the gears in more intricate machinations made being an engineer a more annoying task. Hence why Brad, genius that he is, had equipped the blonde gunman’s arm with a little special something to rid the little granules from the intricate joints that made up the malachite arm. 

“This is the annoying part; gets... so… gritty– Eep!”

The blonde man squawks as he flails his left arm around, jerkily stretching his lithe fingers. The dual suns’ rays reflect off of the flat planes of his limb, occasionally blinding you as you watched him fumble around. Speckles fell from the crevices as he slapped his other hand against the jewel toned forearm, but the grimace on his face told you that it wasn’t quite fixed yet. Before you could offer to helpfully brush it down with a random paintbrush you picked up from the previous town, he fiddled with something at his inner bicep and the teal arm buzzed to life. 

Sand granules vibrated and seemingly shimmied out of the tighter spaces of his arm and fingers, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he happily wiggled his digits again. A clear lack of stuttered arcs in their movements told you the sand battle was won. 

Distantly, the others in your ragtag group argued about the lack of water and supplies for the next few hours, but your brain wanted nothing to do with that conversation. In fact, the mechanical whirring of his arm mimicked the static of your empty skull. Not a single thought was between your eyes at that moment.

Words died in the back of your throat and were replaced with absolutely salacious thoughts. Those thoughts raced through your mind and the blood pumped wildly in your ears (and between your legs). You fiddled with your fingers nervously as you cleared your throat to grab the blonde's attention.

“Say, Vash,” you coughed, and his eyes darted to yours in interest at the awkward tone you’ve suddenly adopted, “I’ve got an… idea.”

Those big blue eyes blinked owlishly at you as he curiously tilted his head. 

“What’s up, Mayfly?”

As soon as the group stumbled into town, divvied up the keys, and parted ways, the door of your motel room was barricaded by a splintered chair because the lock didn’t live up to its namesake. 

“Curious about this, huh?” Vash’s teasing murmur against the shell of your ear snapped your attention back to the present. “Were you wondering how it would feel… against… your–”

The tip of his cool, jade finger floated down and graced the swollen bud between your legs. Before you could snap a little jab in his direction, the droning mechanism whirred to life again, except this time, Vash wasn’t trying to rid himself of sand. With a yelp, you curled in on yourself, plush thighs caging the broad man’s hands. Your body jerked and he laughed breathlessly, cooing as his flesh-and-blood hand pried your legs apart. This man was teasing you! Turning the buzzing fingers on and off? How cruel–

“So lewd of you,” he cooed your name, delighted by your body’s honest reactions.

Tease. Bastard. Where’d this confidence come from? 

He tenderly pressed chapped lips against the back of your neck, pecking you three times over. When you embarrassingly squirmed against him and curled in again, he fussed. “M-Mayfly, don’t hide,” he breathes, his voice laced with poorly masked desperation. Your attention was taken and you ceased your squirming at the breathlessness of the man holding you. “Just wanna make you feel good.” 

For Vash the Stampede, succumbing to hedonism was a transgression against his moral code. Yet, when it comes to his precious Mayfly, your happiness and pleasure were equally his own, and he was a selfish sinner learning to indulge. 

He would never come to you with this... idea. But he won’t lie that it came to mind once. 

Well, twice. 

Okay, maybe a few times before the two of you had become entangled in each other.

For every stuttered gasp you released, he mirrored it. For every choked moan you bit back, his hips bucked in response to wordlessly beg you to let go in his arms. 

It made you wonder who was going to finish first. It made him wonder why he took this long to do this. It was all for you, after all. Your pleasure was his.

The gunman’s ragged back rested against the chilled wall of the dim motel room, pulling you taut against his warmth. He protected your back from pressing uncomfortably against the metal over his heart, shifting your body to lean on the rightmost side of his chest. His soft hair tickled you at times, constantly adding ammo to the reasons to squirm in his lap.

Vash’s touch was grounding, yet it also sent you straight for the clouds. His initial hesitant ministrations were gaining confidence the more you sang for him and arched so prettily in his grasp; his index and middle fingers moved at a languid pace, playing you like a seasoned musician performing their magnum opus.  

At the start, he expressed concern over the idea of using his arm’s ugly, brutish, and utilitarian functions on your soft body. He sputtered in surprise when you first mentioned it earlier in the day; he had frantically gestured to his shining arm, babbling and asking you to confirm what he thought you had said. Crimson heat rose to his ears and it was not from the suns beating down on his neck.

Vash was certainly surprised by your proposal, but again, it wasn’t necessarily the first time it came to his mind.

Even as the two of you first settled against the musty sheets on the mattress, his hesitation spoke volumes with the way his fingers ghosted your core. After much coaxing and promises to stop him if it hurt, he finally, cautiously, pressed his strong fingers where you needed them most. The jade fingers weren’t vibrating though. Only when you complained with a whined cry of his name did he turn it on with bated breath.

Well, Vash quickly learned the tremoring metal was not too much against your core, and hearing your stuttered gasps? The practiced gunman was delighted to find out his body could serve you even better than before.

Currently, each time your legs twitch inwards, he’d whine with pouted disagreement and sweet talk your body to open back up to his touch by nudging your thighs apart again. His petulant huff raced past your ear and your attention would wrap around his next words. “So wet, Mayfly,” he breathed, awe lacing his voice. ���Is it that good? Am I doing okay?”

Genuinely, Vash wanted to be nice, so he stopped his flicked motions to let you answer. His fingers rested on your clit, but didn’t cease the vibrations. With trembling, yet practiced fingers steadily pulsing against you, your head flew back onto his shoulder as you choked out your pleasure, “S-so good, Vash!” 

Oh god, you sounded wrecked and beautiful to this man’s ears. The man always loved how his name was uttered from your lips. Your compliment held an unsaid cry for him to continue, so he hummed happily as his fingers sped up their strides, flicking up and down, and occasionally chasing well-practiced circles. The vibrations from his hand seemed to amp up in strength and your hands flew to his strong legs, digging your nails into his skin. His hand was suddenly drenched and his breath caught at the back of his throat. 

His loving pace faltered for a beat at the sting of your grip as he groaned, mindlessly nuzzling the back of your neck with his nose. The crescent marks on his legs would never scar like the others on his body because you’d never harm him in such a way, but a ruined part of his mind prayed you did. Vash’s free hand trailed up from your tummy to cup one of your breasts to gently toy with the swollen nubs, pulling you close against his body. 

“You’re so wet,” he moans brokenly and gingerly nips at the juncture of your neck. His fingers were starting to clumsily slip from the slick drowning his fingers, but he was determined to be so good and do well. That’s all the Humanoid Typhoon ever wanted to be for you, after all. If he was blessed to touch an angel and make her sing with his erred hands, the least he would do was give her a glimpse of heaven, right? 

“A-are you getting close, Mayfly? Can feel her throbbin’ f’me…” he slurs, his fingers working overtime as he flicked and massaged you. You wailed softly as he seemed to establish a steady rhythm after your sudden deluge from earlier. Before he can moan out yet another nose-bleeding-inducing whimper, your hand shoots out and halts all of his progress. You yank his arm away and a confused ‘bwuh?’ slips from the blonde angel in the room. Before he can protest, you awkwardly crane your head around and stare him down; his voice, worry, and confusion fizzle away at the dazed gaze you grace him with. 

Although the room was dim this late at night, the lantern illuminated your silhouette well; every curve on your body was highlighted by the warm light. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath from his little onslaught of pleasure.

‘Wow.’

You laughed; did he say that aloud? 

Kind of embarrassing, but–

Desperate want painted your pretty little face as you pant at him. His grip on your body loosened as he felt your legs twitch, letting you rearrange the two of you however the hell you wanted. 

He’d follow you anywhere. 

When you lifted yourself from his body to shakily turn and face him, a hum bubbled in his throat before your fingers coyly traveled down your front, spreading yourself under his gaze. His cerulean eyes had followed your fingers’ dance and he swallowed dryly. 

Wet.

So wet. 

He did that. 

Your thighs were quivering as you balanced yourself on your knees, and if he stared hard enough and long enough, he was sure he’d see you drip onto the sheets. 

What a waste that would be, though.

Dumbly, his jaw slackens he stares at your lower half glistening with the obvious sign of your love for him. Distantly, his left hand continued to buzz against your flesh and you laughed at the tickling sensation as you placed your hands on his tense shoulders to steady yourself.

His brain was going to short circuit like the very first time you allowed him to even see an inch of your bare skin. The hardworking pink thing in his skull cheered over and over as his eyes continued to glaze over at the gift in front of him.

Your plump lips were mouthing salacious words down at him but were only partially registering in his clouded brain. 

Something about ‘being inside’ and ‘finishing together’–

His wide eyes snapped back up to yours when you planted your hips firmly against his. Oh god, his pants were so ruined but he didn’t care. Not when you were looking down at him with all the love in your eyes as you sighed out his name in bliss.

It sounded so pretty from your lips. 

The Humanoid Typhoon felt dizzy, oh so dizzy…

You purred when his hands shakily found their home on your hips, “c’mon Plant boy. Let’s get those pants off of you, huh?” 

Vash the Stampede had never clumsily unbuckled his ruined pants so fast in his life. Can’t blame the guy though. His pretty litte Mayfly laughing and sitting on his lap made it really difficult. 

[plushish]

Resisting Temptation | Adam x Drunk!Reader

summary — In which Adam brings you home after a night out and manages not to be a complete degenerate, despite being tempted to when you start to drunkenly masturbate in front of him.

content — 1,744 words, fem reader, fem pronouns, smut, pre-established friendship (you're like best friends), masturbation, exhibitionism, some pining

a/n — my first story on here! wow!!!!! warning for drunken flirting, i guess slight dubcon? though adam is drunk too. also reader is kinda lute-coded

SMUT AHEAD !

“I had no idea you were such a fuckin’ lightweight,” Adam laughs boisterously, with you sprawled in his bed with eyes you can barely keep open, warmth burning through your every limb. The sensation wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, just overwhelming coupled with all the other shit going on with your other senses. At least you were somewhere comfortable instead of on the cold tiles of the club’s bathroom floor, which was where he’d found you after you disappeared for thirty minutes. You’d take the smell of his sweaty sheets over the stained, cold tiles any day.

You were familiar with this space, having come here many times prior to. Whether it was for a house party, a jam session, or just to crash for a bit, you’d been in this very spot on his bed too many times to not be comfortable here.

“I can’t take your shit right now, just shut up for a bit, please.“ You slur out, earning a grumpy mumble from him, something along the lines of ‘don’t tell me to fucking shut up’. You were more concerned about the unbearable temperature in your face and your core, lazily lifting your shirt up your midriff to try and remedy some of it.

“Whoa, feelin’ hot are we? Tryna show me something?”

Your intentions were certainly not to make yourself appealing to the man in the room with you. Adam was just like that. He would get excited over a woman bending over to tie her shoe. It wasn’t that you were suddenly attracted to him– but something about him misinterpreting your action coupled with the way his voice, intoxicated with a sensual undertone and a hint of his sleazy charm, flicked the switch in your brain soaked with alcohol. “Yeah, it’s too hot,” you breathe with a sudden intensity. “Need it off.”

After a night of warm bodies near yours and some appetitive dancing, you had some lasting energy pent up– and whatever sort of restraint that normally keeps you from your deepest impulses is turned off at that moment. You spread your thighs and begin to tug down your bottoms.

Adam’s face heats up slightly, but for once, he stays quiet on his side of the room. Changes into something more comfortable and just watches as you toss your pants and underwear to a miscellaneous pile of his laundry in the corner.

In Adam’s bed, you feel right at home. Though it’s not something either of you have ever brought up or discussed, there is nothing that strikes you as particularly odd about stripping down in front of him to start touching yourself.

“...Cute,” He chuckles softly, sitting in his lounge chair. Getting lost in his own drunken haze, he drops his chin in his hand to watch with half-lidded eyes as you drunkenly spread yourself open.

“ ‘m not cute… I’m sexy,” You playfully correct him, rum on your lips. Though his breath smells of alcohol too, it’s much more prevalent on you, floating in the air around you. Suddenly feeling a little hot himself, he makes his way to his en suite bathroom, where he fills a glass with some water. You were way too far gone. He was too.

Adam makes his way back to your side of the bed. “Sit up, bitch,” he instructs crudely, but you obey. Standing right next to you, he tries not to pay your ministrations any mind, but still listens to the slick sound of it with a flush in his face.

Adam brings the cup to your lips with a little bit of annoyance as you sway from side to side, making him spill some down your chin along the way with a groan, a ‘fuckin’ damnit [Name]’, and an impatient sigh. Despite this, you drink obediently, wrapping your other hand around Adam’s to hold the glass in place, which only makes its contents slosh around more thanks to your disoriented movements.

“Holy fuck, slow down dude,” He complains as you chug wildly, still clumsily going at your own cunt with your other hand.

When he pulls the glass away from your mouth, you inhale sharply and deeply as you catch your breath from your unrestrained drinking.

“Don’t wanna,” you say breathlessly, a rivulet of water dripping down the corner of your lip. He stares, takes in the shine on your moistened lips in the dimly lit room. “Feels too good.”

Your tone is uncharacteristically seductive. He’s never seen you like this before. Adam sets the glass on a nightstand and sits on the bed next to you, your backs both against the headboard, same like how he does when you come over to binge shows and rot in bed with him for hours, sometimes days at a time.

“Really can’t stop?” He asks, a little irritated by the fact you’re bringing it up, making the awkwardness of trying to veer his attention away even more challenging.

“Yeah,” you hum, eyes closed. “Needed this so bad.”

He can’t keep himself from taking a glance– your shirt furled up, showing the expanse of skin there, a hand over your drooling cunt. Inches away from him.

“Hey, [Name],” he says in a serious but equally sultry tone all of a sudden.

“Yeeeaaah?” You sing-song.

“You’re really sexy.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, you’re such a little doll. Fuckin’ cute,” He praises uncharacteristically, now stroking your hair with a gentleness you had scarcely ever seen from him before. Definitely the alcohol. He watches the way your lips form a lazy drunken smile, blissed out from your own touching. You watch his droopy eyes stare at you with some sort of intensity that you can’t quite read through your inebriated lens, but in your mind, you equate it with the same douchebag look you’ve seen in most other shitty men when they want sex.

“We have to fuck,” you suddenly blurt out.

His eyes widen into saucers.

Why now?

“Do we?” Adam asks casually, a little flippantly, as if he wasn’t completely stoked on the idea. Grinning slyly as if he hasn’t already suggested that a hundred times before, acting coy as if you hadn’t ignored his sexual advances for as long as he’s known you.

You nod very seriously while hopelessly trying to achieve more stimulation through your disoriented touching, your lower half raising off the mattress for a moment.

“Gonna have to turn that one down, babe,” he replies cooly, and in his mind, he pats himself on the back for actually turning down sex with you. “I’ll keep you in mind for next time though, ‘kay?”

You groan at his arrogance. “You’re unreal,” you spit, “so fucking annoying…” slurring and mumbling to yourself about something incoherent, and he snorts as he hears you ramble on, something under your breath about ‘blue balls’.

He’d be lying if he said his dick wasn’t achingly hard in his pants, but he won’t take advantage of you. This isn’t how he hoped it would happen, as loath as he is to admit to himself something as emotionally vulnerable as that. Maybe a little selfish.

He was definitely storing mental pictures and notes away for his own personal use later, but for now, he’s fine with just petting your head while you fuck yourself on your fingers.

“You’re just afraid you wouldn’t be able to handle me.” You say suddenly.

God. Fuck. He’s used to this type of behaviour from you, but not within a context like this. This is a real trial. It takes almost everything in him not to verbally challenge you back, so many possible sleazy responses he could give you. He’s no stranger to setting a mood. So many ways to provoke or tease you.

But he doesn’t, instead opting to ignore you with a grumbled and nonchalant “Yeah, okay, whatever” as he reaches for the remote to flick on the TV. Actions speak louder than words or whatever. Part of him hopes you’ll remember this later.

You scoff, too drunk and too enveloped in your own stimulation to care. You had other things to tend to.

He manages to veer his attention after that, his head turned to where his screen displays a rerun of some 4 AM cartoon. He tries to focus on the bouncing characters rather than what’s tempting him on the other edge of the bed.

A dull sight compared to you, naked from the waist down and still rubbing your cunt, a little slower now, distracted by the TV. Just next to him, fingers pressed against where your blood is swollen and sensitive. You spread yourself and feel how wet you are. Adam can hear the drooling sound of it so clearly, somehow tasteful to him, like light rainfall over a pond or a bathing suit dripping into a tub; sleepy summer sounds.

“Can you just rub your dick against my clit a little?” You ask, moving your fingers as if to give illustration of the idea, so swollen.

“Show me how you like to do it,” Adam proposes instead. “what gets you off best.”

You lean into him, letting out a pleased hum. In his own drunken haze though, he can’t help himself from it when he presses sloppy wet kisses along your shoulder, your neck, your swollen lips that taste so strongly of alcohol. You accept the kisses plainly while your fingers slot against your clit, pinching lightly. You moan breathily, hot against his lips.

God, you’re too fucking precious. He wants to be inside you so badly. He fuckin’ would be, if he were just a little bit worse of a person, if he happened to not give a fuck about you, if you weren’t already gasping and cumming, leaking onto the sheets of his bed.

“Good girl. Bet your pussy feels better now, huh?”

“Yeah...” You say with a yawn, the aftertaste of your orgasm already beckoning your body to rest.

“Get to sleep. You’ll need rest when I make you regret putting all this shit on me tomorrow.”

“Hey, Adam…”

“‘Sup?” He asks with that signature douchey indifference.

You scoot forward, tucking your head under his jaw. Lean into his neck and breathe against the pulse there.

Are you going to say it…?

“I’ve gotta piss,” you slur out. “and puke a little, probably.”

Adam deflates with disappointment.

“I fuckin’ hate you,” He sighs in defeat, before tossing the blankets back off of you and slipping a hand under your legs to carry you.

i didnt proofread this cuz ive read it a thousand times already but anyway let me know if u see any spelling mistakes at all, before someone else gets the chance to see them cuz that would be embarrassing and i'd have to boil myself alive

[cheralith]

hi, love your writing and ive just wanted to say pirate reader and siren rin has been rotting my brain for the longest time imagine he’s been watching them from the ocean for a while and saves them from drowning

sorry about the blurb it was just been in the back of my mind for a bit

feat. itoshi rin (with itoshi sae) || wc: 1.1k wc: gn!reader, no pronouns used, siren/mermaid!rin, prince!rin, sailor!reader a/n: god nonnie u came to the right place because i have been truly itching to write something for rin for the longest time and you've opened a door for me to do so thank uuu, i hope this blurb is alright since i didnt rly know how to incorporate the pirate part in so i just made reader a regular sailor :')

The water embraces you within its grasp as you collide with it, a quiet sound that only Rin can hear from the distance he's been observing you.

It's worked, his cantabile song luring you into him like a moth to a flame. It wasn't his fault that you lead yourself to your own doom, you were getting much too close to his peoples' abode. Rin was just simply trying to protect his people on his patrol out this early evening, when he had spotted you and your ship sailing too close to his waters.

A determined human, you were, given by the look on your face that was scrawled with resolve as you steered your boat on steady waters that seemed to almost glide you along without much effort from your own end—shame that you didn't know it was Rin's doing, controlling the waves of the water to bring you closer to him so he could properly get rid of you.

Humans tainted everything they touched; from the land to the ocean, Mother Nature's creations she made from her own two hands would be soiled by the undoing from humans like yourselves. The second prince did not play into the idea that not all of them were bad—a foolish idea brought upon by Isagi and Bachira—because all he had ever known was the destruction and messes brought into the ocean by human hands. It didn't help his case that many of his people in his kingdom were captured by humans like yourselves to be considered some sort of trophy.

Rin didn't know who you were, and didn't want to take the chances had you been one of them, so before you were able to get rid of him or one of his people, he decided to get rid of you first. Nothing he wasn't used to—he's collected his fair share of drowned human corpses from the past. Just another to add to his aggregation.

He had watched from a safe distance in the small cavern his song lulled you into a trance, one that made you take your hands off the wheel of the boat and come closer to the edge of the boat, where you had eventually toppled over and into the depths of the sea, a hushed splash echoing.

Rin jumps from his place on the rocks and into the water, where the ocean greets him again. His tail propels him forward to where your ghostly figure floats like a phantom in the water, motionless and still, the last bit of sunlight still in the sky almost glorifying you with a spotlight in the empty sea.

He swims around your unconscious figure, his song still reverberating from him to ensure that he properly spellbinds you into the arms of death itself, where your body will run out oxygen without knowing and water will fill your lungs, pulling you into the dark depths of the ocean to rot away like the rest of the humans Rin had bewitched.

But as Rin comes closer to you, he realizes you're nothing he's seen before. There's this... allure about you. You're not like the brutish men he's lured to their death, the ones with contorted wrinkles and matted hair both on their heads and on their face. Your face is calm and smooth, eyelids closed, your separated limbs gently swaying in the water as your hair splays out. He squints, bringing his face closer to your own to examine you and your features. You look almost tranquil within the water, like you belong here.

He's fascinated. You were a rarity. A human, yes, but you were, dare he say it, seraphic in appearance—you almost rivaled the beauty of the ocean herself, though Rin knows better than to say that aloud.

This beauty that was as hypnotizing as his song being possessed by you. Rin's gills flutter as a webbed hand goes to press your pillowy lips, murmuring in surprise at their softness. He leans in, his own that frame jagged teeth nearly grazing against yours, ready to slither in his venom from his mouth to yours to temporarily paralyze you so he can properly take you back to his kingdom to present to Sae—this divine beauty of a human he can display somewhere as an early coronation gift from his little brother.

Suddenly, just as Rin's venom glands opened, your eyes shoot open and your consciousness gains back into your body. Rin pulls back in surprise, hissing when you blearily make out his appearance in the water, a strange fuzzy figure before with a long, shimmering purple tail despite half of him being human-like. A screech fails to erupt from you, and the water suffocates your throat.

Rin seethes as you thrash about the water, not knowing what to do until you choke out and the last bit of bubbles pulls the air from you, your body paralyzing. Death will come to you early, but now, Rin doesn't want that. Sae would want you alive so he could properly toy with your humanness. The imperial prince had always been fascinated by the workings of the human body, so Rin is sure that he needs to bring you alive to ensure Sae's satisfaction.

So Rin pulls you up, where the air meets the sea, where you can breathe properly. But when you remain in your current state within the pressures of the water, Rin ventures back to the cove where he had hid himself from view, pulling you onto the cool rocks, your body free from the chains of the water.

Irritation grows on his face when your chest refuses to heave again for awhile, but your body suddenly spits out the water held captive in your throat, spilling over and making you cough harshly from the lack of air. Rin jumps back from the harsh movement, watching as you regain your breath. Your eyes flutter close again from the exhaustion, but your breaths return to you, indicating you were still alive.

Rin hovers above you curiously, watching as you moan from the pain from your chest and hiccup, his hands brushing away a wet piece of hair so he could properly examine you again to make sure you were ripe enough to present to Sae in full, ensuring the water didn't make some sort of false visage.

Your eye squeeze abruptly and Rin takes away his hand in caution, freezing when he sees your eyes pry open hazily again. He watches warily as your bleary eyes take him in—the alien-like figure from before now pure and clear.

Oh, what a heavenly creature... those teal hues in a haunting pool of grey are especially enigmatic... framed by long black lashes that add a certain bewitching to them... you can't help but be so entranced.

Your vision blurs again, haze going in and out as you try to focus on Rin, and you unconsciously reach out to pull away a long noir bang from his face so you can properly see him in full. You don't notice the way he winces at your oddly gentle touch. A soft smile displays on your colorless lips, this peacefulness upon you.

"You're so beautiful," you murmur out to the creature, just before your world turns to black again.