#i know i know i am WAY too feral over this song

[jamminvroomvroom]

4k celebration

i want to see feral lando. dom lando. choking and degrading and rough lando. maybe a bad race, maybe flirting with another driver. weeknd vibes lando. rough rough rough lando.

heat.

ln x fem!reader - 4k celebration

in which lando fucks you until the sun comes up :)

i am. feral. there are no words to describe how unhinged i am over this, this is super self indulgent and i cannot thank you enough anon hehe - lemme know what y’all think ily! <3

songs to set the mood: earned it by the weeknd, novacane by frank ocean, heaven angel by the driver era

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, pwp with a bit of plot, choking, crying, swearing, overstimulation, neck? riding? (hehe), degradation, a slap or two, soft dom!lando, also not so soft dom!lando (he switches up a bit), just feral unhinged vibes

2k words

foreglow:

the glow of light appearing in the sky preceding sunrise

-

the sunrise casts a tangerine foreglow over your bodies, the bed, everything the light can touch.

lando’s slumped against the headboard and you’re sprawled over his lap, legs hooked over his, with his hand working between your thighs.

it’s been hours. he’s had you spread out for him, countless positions and locations utilised. you were paying for your behaviour over the race weekend, but really, it was all his fault.

he’d been too cocky, looked too good, the australian air getting to his head. you’d been glowering at him since you’d arrived in the land down under, watching in erotically charged horror as he paraded around looking, to put it simply, slutty. tight shorts, arms out, neck on display for all to see. his fucking neck. god, it looked so thick, flexing every time he turned to smirk at you. the heat rendered you delirious, and so did he.

and you couldn’t even think about that fucking daddy bracelet he’d been sporting.

you decided you needed payback, in the form of some carefully constructed, harmless flirting with everyone from the mechanics to the guys on the pit wall old enough to be your father. but lo and behold, it worked, and that’s how you found yourself in this position.

the position in question?

being fucked every which way lando deemed fit until the sun came up.

“you learnt your lesson yet, baby?” lando grunts into your ear, pinching your clit between his fingers.

your thighs are soaked, shaking uncontrollably, and your head has lulled back against his shoulder. you’re breathing heavily, your back flush against his front and he’s restless. you’ve lost count of the number of orgasms you’ve been pushed to.

“lan.” you breathe, eyes fixated on the bracelet adorning his wrist. the kitschy trinket sends liquid fire down your spine and you spasm as he continues to swirl his calloused thumb over your clit.

“that’s not an answer.” he tuts, slipping his fingers through your slit until he’s circling your weeping entrance. you’re coated with slick, some of it his from where he’d fucked you up against the wall a good few hours ago. “have you,” he kisses your shoulder, trailing his fingers that were digging into your hip up your belly. “learnt your lesson?” his teeth sink into your flesh at the same time he pinches your nipple.

you gasp out a cry of his name, slurring incomprehensibly, “yes, yes, ‘m sorry, i’m so sorry.” you sob. his chest rumbles cruelly with laughter and you’re hurtling towards another release, the overstimulation making it easy for him to get you off.

“that’s all you needed to say, honey.” lando coos condescendingly.

as if he’s rewarding you for owning up, two of his fingers sink into your entrance, sliding deep. the sound of your wetness sends your eyes rolling back as he scissors his digits in and out of you, speeding them up into a delicious grind. you’re a mess in seconds, slumped into him as close as can be. kisses over your neck soothe you and you feel the wet rush of your release approaching quicker than you can comprehend it. you gush all over his fingers, dripping down his wrist, coating that annoying fucking bracelet.

“there you go, baby. so good for me.” he whispers, slowing his thrusts. “can you turn over for me? want you to look at me.”

you pant as you wriggle around in his arms until you’re straddling his lap. you can feel yourself dripping on him, his thick length sliding between your folds. the exhaustion renders you languid, ready to let him do just about whatever he wants to you next.

lando cups your breast, stroking gently over your nipple while he runs his tongue all over his long fingers. he loves to make you watch, torturing you until you’re needy for another release.

“you think you can do a few more for me?” lando smirks, bringing the fingers that he’d just licked clean to your other breast, fiddling with your other nipple. he has you rolling your hips against him, inadvertently chasing another high already. he loves it, revels in how he can reduce you to this, so desperate that you’re grinding down on his cock, a wet mess in his lap, all for him.

“yeah, lan.” you nod profusely, your tired eyes locked with his. the early morning sun hits them enticingly, making them sparkle green in the warm light. he looks disgustingly gorgeous like this, soft and yours, resting against the headboard, curls spilling over his forehead and into his eyes. if you didn’t know that he was mulling over a million twisted ideas in his brain that involved resorting you to tears of pleasure, you’d think he looked adorable.

“good.” he grins. “not even nearly done with you.” he looks evil; your thighs clench around his hips.

without moving you off of his lap, he uses his strength to slide down the bed until he lays flat. he beckons you to crawl up his body, and you find the strength to wriggle over him, thighs resting on either side of his neck when he stops you.

“you gonna slide your pretty little cunt over my neck?” lando asks, wrapping his huge hands around your thighs. you gulp, staring down at him dumbfounded. “don’t look at me like i’m crazy, baby. you think i don’t see you staring at it with that special little look in your eyes?” he teases. “get to fucking work, i’m not gonna ask again.”

hesitantly, you lower yourself against his his skin, flaming red with embarrassment and lust. you can’t lie and pretend that you aren’t utterly enticed by this, that you aren’t leaking down your thighs at the prospect of sliding your pussy along his tanned, flexed flesh. the adventurousness of the escapade makes your legs tremble, nerves eating you alive, but it’s all worth it when you feel that first glide.

you curse out, loud and breathy, the new sensation creating lewd sounds between you. he’s obsessed, staring up at you in mischievous awe as you rock your hips backwards and forwards. you tangle one hand in his hair, tugging hard in sheer desperation, while the other hand balances you against the headboard so you don’t crush him. he guides your hips like he wants to die like this, suffocated by you and everything you have to offer him.

“oh my fucking god.” you choke out a moan, jaw hanging agape as you continue to slide against him. every time you move forwards, you feel the delectable prickle of his trimmed facial hair scratching against your inner thighs and your eyes squeeze shut each time, pure pleasure bubbling in the pit of your belly.

“you have no idea how fucking good you look.” lando rasps, digging his fingertips into the meat of your thighs. you’re so tense, teetering on the very edge. the strength he possesses, his composure while you’re sitting on his fucking neck makes you throb.

you gaze down at him, feral, and it does something to him, because he’s yanking you up onto his parted lips, burying his face as far as it will go. you yelp, collapsing into the headboard as he holds you down on his tongue, lapping up your mess.

“can taste us.” he mumbles into the flesh of your cunt, barely audible, but you hear it and it makes you shiver. you black out as your orgasm hits, your ears ringing as bliss courses through your limp body like a delicious electric shock. your nerves are shot when he rolls you onto your back.

“fucking heaven.” lando groans, crawling over you as he licks his lips.

he’s invigorated by the taste of you, how spent you are, and how it’s all his fault. you can’t string a sentence together, but you’re grabbing at his toned body like you’re begging silently for more, anything. he needs to drive into you, fill up up, make you remember that your little games will always lead back to this, the reminder that you’re his.

“you sensitive, honey?” he growls, hand sliding between your legs while his necklace rests in the valley between your breasts. you whimper at the sensation, overloaded, nodding. you both know you need more; he needs more. “tough.”

lando practically folds you in half when he fucks into you, giving you no solace in adjusting to him. he ruts into you hard, fast, unrelenting as he sinks deeper and deeper with every thrust.

“you’re gonna behave from now on. you don’t need to make me jealous for me to fuck you.” he grunts. his slaps your hip, the harsh snap leaving a sting that has you convulsing. “this is what you deserve isn’t it? whoring yourself out because you were a wet mess for me all weekend.”

you whine his name, sobs wracking your body. he feels utterly divine hammering into you like life itself depends on it. you’ve lost track of where he stops and you begin, stars behind your eyes that turn into butterflies festering in your belly. you’re so full, flushed beneath him, gushing every time he opens his dirty fucking mouth.

“crying for me, love?” he mocks, lowering himself to get even closer to you, his tongue finding your tears tracks and licking the salty residue away until you’re shuddering.

“please, lando, please, told you i’m sorry.” you plead, begging for something undisclosed, but it’s okay, because he knows exactly what to do with you.

“be fucking quiet.” lando coos once more, sickeningly unsympathetic.

but you can’t help it, whimpering out his name, begging for some form of relief, or mercy, or for him to just fuck you impossibly harder. how can you be quiet when he’s tearing you so perfectly apart?

lando doesn’t like being disobeyed, so when you continue to sob, loud and lewdly, his hand finds it’s way to the base of your throat. your jaw goes slack, wheezing at the intense rush you get when he squeezes slowly, and you can’t help but let go.

“fucking- lando!” you writhe.

“i know, baby, i know.” he shushes you, hooking your leg even higher so that he can bury himself as deep as possible.

you spasm hard, impossibly tight around him and he stutters, collapsing you both hard into the mattress. you hold him so, so tight as he cums, shooting into you. you can feel him leaking out of you already, white hot, and laying there in a heap of sweat and adoration. he breathes a laugh, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“are you okay, honey?” he whispers, kissing your collarbone.

“just peachy. a bit knackered.” you giggle, tangling your fingers into his damp curls.

“so, you liked the bracelet then?” he teases, nose bumping against your cheek as he raises his wrist to your eye line.

“i think it needs a clean.” you wrinkle your nose, thinking about what the beads had been exposed to over the last few hours.

“let’s shower, hm? then we can watch the sunrise.” lando suggests, sitting you up slowly.

“you’re gonna need to carry me.” your legs are still quivering.

“anything for you.” he says, hand over his heart.

-

45 minutes later, the sun is sitting pretty, high in the sky.

7:26am, the clock reads. the melbourne skyline glimmers hot with the rise of a new day.

you’re snuggled into his side, wet hair cooling the heat of damp skin. your eyes flutter, barely fighting the urgent need to sleep.

“you have no idea how much i love you.” lando caresses your stringy locks, pushing the hair from your eyes.

your bare bodies mould together, basking in the orange of the dawn.

“love you.” you mutter, brushing your lips against his chest in an open mouthed kiss. “promise i’ll start behaving.” you snicker.

“but baby, you know i love it when you’re bad.”

“okay, i’ll remember that… daddy.” you retort, a teasing lilt to your tone.

he ignores the way his blood rushes south, too conscious of your exhausted body - and his own - to climb on top of you and fuck you until the sun sets once more.

“get some sleep.” he whispers through gritted teeth.

you sink into sleep while he watches over you. the view from the hotel room is gorgeous, breathtaking, but why would he give it even a millisecond of his attention when he has you?

-

head? empty.

-

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[milswrites]

The bonds that tie us

~Azriel X Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Azriel accept the mating bond.

Warnings: Smut! 18+ MNDI, p in v

Azriel’s golden eyes stayed locked on yours. His intense gaze piercing your own until you could feel his searching presence in your very soul. Each heavy breath which escaped from his lips sent delightful tingles down your spine.

The sweet scent of his growing arousal permeated the air, causing you to slightly shift in your seat at the anticipation of the events to come.

“So?” You ask impatiently, tearing your eyes away from Azriel to look to the chocolate cake sitting in the middle of the table.

The cake which you had spent the past few hours baking. Pouring your love into the mixture as you did so, making sure everything was perfect for your mate.

It was a masterpiece. Your proudest work. And yet the shadowsinger never spared it a glance, not even as he entered the room. Instead he had walked in, burning gaze never failing to leave you as he sat down in the chair opposite. Failing to give you any other reaction except his heady scent of want which filled the room intoxicatingly.

He gulped deeply at the sound of your voice, finally moving his hazel eyes to the food before him. Face drawn black as he allowed the realisation of what this meant to settle deep into the marrow his bones.

“It’s for me?” He asked, voice thick with tension as he took in the cake before him, his eyes briefly closing as he inhaled the delectable smell of the fresh sponge.

“Yes Az” you replied, lips stretching into a smile as you watched the trace of glee wash over his expression. You pressed your thighs together, searching for some relief as you noted the darkness which crept into his passionate stare.

“This is what you want?” Azriel questions, the low rumble of his voice reverberated through your chest, tugging lightly on the taught strings of your heart.

“It is,” you confirmed, leaning your torso forward to enable you to reach the cake in order to cut the male a slice, “And you? Is this what you want?”

“Unquestionably” he replied, watching the way you delicately sliced through the layers of the cake before placing it on the plate before him. Settling back into your seat as your expectant eyes fell onto him.

But instead of eating, he began to speak. Forcing himself to say what had to be said before he’s too consumed by his feral need to devour you whole.

“I spent five hundred years waiting for you” he started, slowly running his tongue along his lips to wet them as he thought of exactly what he wanted to say, “And I would have waited five hundred more if it meant I got to be with you at the end of it.”

Your eyes began to water at the truth which laced his words, his honest eyes coming to meet your own.

“I always thought you were too good for me. The horrors of my past, the grim nature of my job. I couldn’t see how I could deserve you.”

He paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. You allowed him to assemble his words in silence, your time to speak would come. This confession he needed to get off his chest alone.

“You are my other half, my soul belongs to you. I see that now. And I’m ready for it, I am. I do deserve you, and I will spend the rest of my life knowing that. You are my mate. And the stars will sing our song forever.”

Azriel made no move towards the cake. So you took this as a sign that it was your turn to speak.

“I love you Azriel. I have for a long time, and not just because the cauldron intended for it to be so. My heart is yours to keep, and for as long as I shall live my love for you will know no bounds nor have any limits. I’m yours Az, I always have been.”

A rough growl broke from his lips at your final statement, his sharp jaw locking into place as he resisted the urge to jump on you then and there, cake be damned.

His fiery gaze remained on you as he lifted the sweet cake to his lips and began to eat. His chest heaving with the effort it was taking to finish the entire slice, the outpour of desire which flooded into his system was almost too unbearable to deny.

Finally he put the last remnants of the cake into his mouth, taking the time to deliciously lick the rich chocolate from his long fingers. Amber gaze still unwavering.

The atmosphere was electric. The overwhelming scent of your joint arousal was becoming too difficult to ignore and so you allowed your instincts to take control. Leading you from the rickety wooden chair across the room, until you were stood between the open legs of your lover. Of your mate.

His tender hands came to rest at your waist, the heat of their teasing touch burning and you had to resist the urge to hiss at their devastating presence. Lowering your face until your lips tantalisingly brushed against his own, you plucked on the newfound bond which had settled in your chest as you finally spoke to him through the golden thread.

My gorgeous, handsome mate.

Azriel closed the gap between you, sealing his soft lips against yours as they danced together in a passionate embrace. His rough hands tugging you towards him until you were comfortably sat in his lap, your legs splayed open on either side of his firm thighs.

It was as though you were a feral beast chasing after its prey. Devouring your mates lips as your tongues entwined, teeth occasionally clashing together at the messy intensity of the kiss.

Your control had vanished, leaving no trace behind until all that remained was your profound need to take Azriel in every possible way that you could.

Your desperate hands tugged wildly at his clothes, begging the male to remove them. The overpowering need to feel his bare skin on yours was blinding.

Understanding your needs Azriel briefly broke the kiss, allowing you to pull his constricting shirt from his body, uncaring as you tossed it across the room before connecting your lips against him once more.

Able to now feel the soft warmth of his bare skin, you raked your nails along his abdomen, drawing a long deep moan from his throat. His eyes squeezed together tightly as though in pain, as though your teasing touches weren’t enough to satisfy him.

He needed more.

Azriel wanting to feel your enthralling heat wrapped around his cock as he pounded into you. Each deep thrust signalling his claim over you. Over his mate.

And so in his need and impatience, the male stood. Holding you tightly in his strong arms as he made his way to the bedroom, lips never once straying from your own.

Entering the room he softly laid you upon the silken sheets, stripping you of your clothes as his sultry gaze was finally able to look upon your naked form.

His scarred hands having a mind of their own as they travelled the expanse of your skin, drawing sinful sounds from your lips as he lightly traced your nipples before connecting his mouth to your breasts.

Taking turns in worshipping each one, leaving purple pebbles in his wake as he gently bit and sucked at the tender skin, before trailing up your body to show the same love to the sensitive skin of your neck.

All the while your hips bucked up against his own in desperation, your aching core pulsating with its need for relief.

Ever the attentive lover, Azriel slipped his hand down the contours of your body until his skilled fingers met the area where you were most sensitive. His long fingers lazily tracing circles onto your clit as he turned his smirking lips to your face.

“What is it you need princess?” He goaded, fingers continuing their circular motion, “my fingers?” He brushed them lightly against your core, “my tongue?” He traced his tongue along the line of your neck as he spoke, drawing a whiny cry from your lips.

Bucking your whips against him once more, your fingers began to grip the sheets of the bed as you begged, “your cock Az please. Give me your cock.”

“Is that what my mate desires?” He growled lowly against the sensitive skin of your neck, “For me to pound her to completion with my cock?” He slipped his fingers inside you as he spoke, pumping them to the rhythm of your moving hips as he continued to speak, “Is that what you need princess?”

Unable to speak you whined in response, eager hands unbuttoning his trousers as you longed not to waste another minute.

Compliant, Azriel removed his soaking fingers from your core. Aiding you with removing his trousers and undergarments until his aching cock stood to attention before you. Red tip already leaking from the intensity of his desire.

“I want you to fuck me like you own me Az” you breathed, locking your black eyes with his own, “show your mate how you would worship her.”

Groaning at your words, Azriel lines himself up at your core. His teasing head brushing along your folds until he finally gave in to his longing and began to push himself in.

Satisfied moans tearing from both your mouths as he continued to enter you until he was fully sheathed. Stilling for a few moments as he allowed you to adjust to his large size.

Finally, you signalled him to move by thrusting your hips upwards towards his own, begging for the male the fuck you.

And Azriel did. Pounding into you forcefully, guttural moans slipping from his lips as his hips met yours again and again. Powerful cock thrusting in and out of you repeatedly.

The bond - the newly established golden thread which tied the two of you together - glowed brightly. Its presence creating an overwhelming intensity that drew you closer and closer to your completion with an unexpected ferocity.

The delicious sensation of your mates cock slipping in and out of your soaking core was enough to start to tip you over the edge of bliss, stars entering your vision with every thrust your mate delivered.

“That’s it” Azriel panted, the rhythmic movement of his hips never faltering, “You’re doing so well baby. Let it take over, show me you’re mine.”

You came undone with a pleasured cry, body spasming at the sensation as Azriel continued the brutal pace of his thrusts as he chased his own high. With your vision clouded by satisfaction, the only tell of him finding his completion was the strangled cry which tore from his throat as his thrusts finally slowed, the male delivering the last few twitching thrusts before he came undone inside of you with a groan.

Carefully, he withdrew himself from your core, moving so he was laid next to you. A gentle hand coming to caress your slightly sweaty skin, finger trailing the curve of your hips up to your ribcage before repeating the action.

“That was perfect” you hummed in contentment, pleased with the calming sensation that had settled in the wake of your high. Tired breaths still escaping from your lips.

“You think that’s it?” Azriel asked with a smirk, “My love that was just the beginning. I’ve yet to bring you apart with my tongue.”

Your cheeks flushed with heat at the promises which rolled from his lips.

“My darling mate,” he crooned, “you’re sorely mistaken if you think you’re leaving this bed before the end of the week. I’m going to explore every last heavenly inch of your body.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: Ummmmm if you read this no you didn’t 🫣🫣🫣 this was only my second time writing smut so I’m sorry it’s bad and let’s all forget this exists ok?

[delulustateofmind]

JJK x Reader: I wanna get you pregnant!

Not in the way that you think! 

Characters: Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, and special guest….Yuki! 

TW: Pure fluff/Crack, Use of Pet names, reader in majority of my fics is a non sorcerer (to make it more reader like, y’know?), Sexual implications: Spanking, sex, use of toys (mentioned if you squint) Yuki is feeling spicy. 

A/n: My husband absolutely despises me when I ask if I can get him pregnant. Why have such a nice ass? If I cannot breed? Such a cruel world :( 

Satoru- Ah hoho, sexy time? 

You sent him one little text:

"Hey baby! ❤️ Let’s get you pregnant! :))) I’m ovulating!”

Satoru, ever the over-eager husband, misread it completely. In fact, he practically sprinted from grading papers all the way home, like the little lovesick husband he was. By the time he stepped through the front door, he was already loosening his belt, eyes bright with a singular focus.

“My sweet little pookie, where are you? I am totally ready to breed your cute ass!” he called out in a sing-song voice, finally tracking you down in the bedroom, where you were lounging, giggling over some fanfiction SMAU—whatever that was.

"Baby," he repeated, bright blue eyes sparkling with excitement, almost feral, "I am here to knock you up."

You looked up, momentarily bewildered, tilting your head as you processed the whirlwind of a man before you. First thought: how on earth did he get home so fast? Second thought: why was he acting like this?

"Satoru…" you started, eyebrows raised. “Get me pregnant? No, no, you’re bending over, and I’m getting you pregnant.” You stated it so bluntly that Satoru actually froze, his face scrunching up in confused disbelief.

"So… that wasn't a typo?" He blinked, leaning in closer. "Listen, I ain't afraid of any, uh, experimental stuff," he said with a playful grin, "but baby, you gotta give me a heads-up if we're diving into that territory. Prep work, you know?"

You weren't entirely sure if he was joking or not. Satoru was a certified freak. He’d recreate any scene you wanted with full commitment, no questions asked. Anything was on the table with him. 

"Uh…" You stared at him, cheeks burning.

His grin only grew wider, eyes dancing with mischief. “C’mon, what happened to all that confidence? What’s this about getting me pregnant?”

You squinted at him, trying to stifle a laugh as you watched the way he was practically vibrating with excitement. He had really taken that text to heart. And seemed totally fine with whoever was getting ‘bred’ concerningly. 

"Alright, alright," you sighed dramatically, pretending to roll up imaginary sleeves. "Guess I’ll have to show you how it’s done, Satoru."

"Oh, so you’re serious?” he said, his grin widening to something almost boyish, teasing. “You know, I might be the strongest sorcerer, but something tells me I’d make a damn good mom too.” He struck his tongue out with a slight giggle.

You snorted, struggling to keep a straight face. "Yeah? Then get comfortable” You were doing your best to suppress your giggles. 

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, doing his best sultry voice, “I was born ready.” He leaned back on the bed, kicking his shoes off dramatically, completely playing along, his expression smug and ready to entertain your every whim.

Just as you climbed up beside him, he gave you a look of faux seriousness. “But first… are we gonna need a safety word here? Because you can’t just spring this on a guy without, like, a tutorial or something.”

You smacked his shoulder, laughing. "The only tutorial you need is to sit back and let me work my magic, alright?"

Satoru gasped, all mock shock. “So demanding! This was supposed to be my job tonight, you know. I came home ready to do the breeding.” He dramatically placed a hand over his chest, as if you’d wounded him. "I feel so used, so... objectified."

“Cry me a river, baby” you retorted, poking him in the ribs. “Or, should I say, ‘Mommy.’”

He gasped again, even louder, eyes wide as if he'd just uncovered a new secret of the universe. "Wait, if I’m 'Mommy'... does that make you ‘Daddy’? Because that I could get behind.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you deadpanned, trying not to laugh, “you’ll be getting behind a whole lot tonight.”

“So, are you actually going to fuck my ass or what?” Satoru practically purred as he pulled you into a loving kiss. It was going to be a long night. 

Suguru - Cute? But no.

You sent him a text. Your loving, devoted husband. The sweet, sly fox of a man you somehow managed to marry.

“Heyyyyy baby! ❤️ Can I uh… get you pregnant? MWAH!”

Suguru stared at the message for a moment, the whistle still in his mouth as he watched the first years run laps around the track. He blinked once, then twice, mentally questioning all the life choices that led him to marrying such a delightfully weird woman. With a small shake of his head, he shrugged and replied:

“No ❤️ But I can get you pregnant, princess :)”

You couldn’t help but giggle when his response popped up on your screen, kicking your feet under the desk at your cute little office job. You quickly covered your mouth to stifle the sound, trying not to disturb your coworkers. The older lady in the cubicle across from you shot you a curious glance, then simply shook her head. You’d earned a bit of a reputation as the office weirdo, but she didn’t seem too surprised. Typical you.

Later that night, after putting the twins to bed, you found yourself side-by-side with Suguru in the bathroom, both of you brushing your teeth in companionable silence. As he leaned over the sink to spit out his toothpaste, something in you—perhaps sheer impulsiveness—took over. Without a second thought, you reached out and smacked him on the ass.

For a moment, you both froze. 

You, because you were genuinely shocked at yourself. How could you possibly have the audacity to smack such a beautiful man, one who hid a surprisingly plump ass under his usual baggy sweatpants?

And Suguru… well, he slowly turned his head to look at you, an eyebrow raised, his violet eyes glinting with something dangerous and mischievous. You immediately recognized the look, and that’s when it hit you—you were in trouble. 

“Don’t,” he said, his voice so calm and smooth it made your skin prickle with nervous excitement. He took a step forward, towering over you just a little. “You’ll wake up the twins, sugar.”

Oh no. Sugar. He only called you that when he was not amused.

You gave him a sheepish smile and started to step back slowly, hands raised as if surrendering would get you out of this.

Suguru tilted his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he gave you that calm, terrifyingly serene smile. “What’s wrong, sugar?” he drawled, taking a deliberate step toward you, his eyes glinting with that unmistakable spark of playfulness. The kind of look of a predator looking at its next mean…sorry…toy.

You took another step back, hands pressed over your mouth to stifle your laughter, but the giggles kept bubbling up. “Nothing, nothing at all! Just, uh… brushing my teeth, same as you!”

“Oh, is that so?” He took another slow step forward, eyes never leaving you. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you just smacked my ass. Which, let me remind you, is dangerous territory for a sweet little wife like you.”

You backed up until your heels hit the shower door, and your escape routes were down to… precisely zero.

Suguru was enjoying this far too much, the way he loomed over you, his tone smooth and dangerously soft. “Now, sugar,” he murmured, leaning down until his face was level with yours, “you wouldn’t have been trying to start something, would you?”

You couldn’t help yourself—you burst into laughter, slapping a hand over your mouth as you tried to quiet down. “Sorry! It was just—your sweatpants—and—”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Oh, so it was the sweatpants, huh? That’s what got you all brave?”

“Listen, I…I didn’t think!” you practically whispered, “I didn’t mean to!” Giving him the best pout you could muster, in hopes to charm your way out of this. 

Suguru raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Oh, now you want to act innocent? You’ve been a little menace all day, haven’t you?” He leaned closer, his face mere inches from yours, his violet eyes glinting with that familiar, irresistible mischief. “First, with that message, and now, this”  

“Maybe…we can call a truce?” You ventured, trying to inch around him, but he moved with grace to block you instantly cornering you against the counter with a raised eyebrow. 

“Not a chance, sugar.” His voice dropped to a low murmur, making your skin prickle with his honeyed voice. “But don’t worry. I’ll keep quiet. Wouldn’t want to wake the twins, after all.” He smiled, that same calm smile, and you realized you were dead. 

You bit your lip, but you knew you were done for. Suguru was already tilting his head, his mouth right by your ear as he whispered, “You know I don’t like to be teased, princess. And you know exactly what happens when you do.”

With a last, nervous laugh, you bolted, ducking under his arm to make a break for it. Nearly hitting the corner of the counter in the process. You barely made it past the bathroom door when you felt his strong arms wrap around your waist, effortlessly pulling you back to him. Before throwing you over his shoulder with a tap of his palm against your ass. 

“So we wanted to run?” He whispered, his tone dripping with amusement. “Cute” 

“Wait, wait, Sugu–” you tried to talk in between giggles as he was already leading you to the bedroom. Practically throwing you on the bed, before crawling on top of you. 

“You started this, Sugar,” he murmured, his voice warm and playful as he leaned down to nuzzle your neck, peppering a few light kisses. “And now you’re gonna deal with the consequences” A playful danger in his gaze. 

Yeah, you didn’t walk straight the next day and got good use out of that new gag he bought you. 

Nanami - Hahaha…Not Happening

You sent that sweet little text, along with a tantalizing selfie in the new black lace lingerie you’d picked up during your lunch break.

Nanami had been away on a mission for a few days, and you knew he’d be eager to see you again. So, naturally, you expected him to check his phone and be pleasantly surprised by the little gift you left in his messages—a photo of you looking irresistible, paired with a playful message:

"Hey Pumpkin 🎃! I was just thinking… how about I get you pregnant? Wouldn’t that be so cute? :)”

However, as luck would have it, he was sitting right next to Ino on the ride back, his stoic demeanor not faltering as he opened his phone expecting, perhaps, a picture of something you baked or a casual selfie. Definitely not a suggestive photo of you in lace and a not-so-subtle proposal.

He glanced at the screen, quickly closing his messages without so much as a reaction. Left on read.

You pouted, checking your phone again, hoping for a reply. Maybe he was busy? But as the minutes ticked by, you started to feel the anticipation—and the slightest hint of nervousness—building.

Later that night, you heard the front door open, and there he was, standing in the doorway with his usual calm, composed expression… but his gaze was focused, a little too serious.

"My wonderful wife likes to break rules, doesn’t she?” he said, his voice soft but carrying a distinct edge, as he took off his tie and closed the door behind him. You managed a nervous, wobbly smile.

“W-what do you mean?” you stammered, though you both knew exactly what he meant.

He raised an eyebrow. “What did I say about sending pictures like that to me at work?”

You swallowed, cheeks flushing, knowing full well you’d been caught red-handed. Oh, you were so screwed.

He walked over to the couch, his composure unwavering, and sat down, calmly patting his lap. “Come here,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically firm. “Over my lap. And you’re going to count to twenty.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding, but you moved toward him, knowing full well there was no getting out of this. As you settled over his lap, he leaned down, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke in that calm, measured tone that sent a thrill through you.

“Afterward,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, “I’m going to make good on that little proposal of yours until you can’t see straight.”

Yuki - Mommy? Sorry…Mommy? 

You and Yuki weren’t exactly ready for kids—far from it, actually. Every time you thought about it, you couldn’t help but remember the countless times Yuki had nearly killed Todo during their training. Still, that didn’t stop you from teasing her that she would be the one to carry the kids if you ever did decide to go down that road.

So, with a mischievous grin, you typed out a playful message:

"Mommy… sorry… Mommy? Can I please… get you pregnant 💗?

Her response came back immediately, so fast it made you giggle with excitement, kicking your little feet and a slight squeal.

"Mmm? So I have a little brat today? Good to know 💗 ✨. "

You stared at her response, heart pounding as you took in her words. A brat, huh? That wasn’t a title you earned often, but whenever Yuki bestowed it upon you, it usually meant she was in one of her rare, particularly teasing moods. You bit your lip, debating your options. Maybe disappearing for the weekend wouldn’t be the worst idea… 

You quickly considered your options. Fleeing the country was a bit extreme, but maybe a weekend in Osaka with your parents would be enough to dodge whatever Yuki had in store.

"Don’t even think about running, sweetheart. I’ll find you. I always do ;)"

You practically squeaked, knowing full well that no matter where you went, Yuki was more than capable of tracking you down. She wasn’t just a little sadistic—she was slightly crazy. You always did attract their crazies. 

Taking a deep breath, you decided to play it cool. 

“Who’s running? I’m just, uh, mentally preparing for all that, um… pregnancy talk, baby.”

You cringed a little as you hit send, knowing that your attempt to sound calm probably came off more like a nervous ramble. Her response came back almost instantly, each word dripping with that teasing edge you both dreaded and loved.

"Oh, baby, you’ll need a lot more than mental preparation. But don’t worry—I’ll take my time with you. You’ll have plenty of chances to beg.”

You felt a flutter in your tummy full of excitement that was mixed with nervousness as you read her message, knowing you were absolutely not getting out of this one. The idea of her calling you a “brat” was a warning—Yuki had every intention of putting you in your place, and you knew better than to test her when she was like this.

The thought crossed your mind to apologize, maybe even backtrack, but another part of you couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement at the challenge. You typed a quick reply:

“Well, Yuki, I guess you’ll just have to show me how much of a brat I really am, huh?”

The three little dots popped up immediately, and you barely had time to brace yourself before her reply came through:

“Oh, you can count on it, baby. Pack a bag—you’re spending the weekend with me. And don’t even think about complaining. Brats don’t get choices.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, you were so fucked. Literally.

Sidenote: Thank you for reading! I am planning on doing fluffy Mondays, a better way to start the week imo. Requests are appreciated! Open to angst requests too! I might make angsty days Fridays or Thursdays?

[everythingseasoning]

Smut reader for my Series: Stay with me, Satoru

Virgin reader x feral Satoru

MINORS GET OUT, MDNI, 18+

Trigger Warnings: feral satoru, little bit of manhandling, satoru kinda disregards reader’s nerves (this fic is not for everyone, especially if you have certain triggers, so please read at ur own discretion 🤍)

He couldn’t help it— you were too cute. Satoru let out a low chuckle, his ocean-eyes flashing like a glacier in the moonlight. You watched him as he stared right into your own eyes; Satoru’s irises gleamed, and he smiled maniacally. He was looking into the depths of your soul without really seeing your present self— your expression shifted to one of concern, but Satoru kept staring, not moving at all—

Oh. It was happening again. There were times Satoru went a little insane, showing an unhinged side to himself. Like right now, with those shining eyes. You felt a chill run through your body. “Satoru? You’re scaring me,” you said quietly.

You saw something flicker across Satoru’s face, and your boyfriend cocked his head.

“Sorry babe,” Satoru said, voice low, sensual and rich, warbling. Suddenly you were in the air— you let out a yelp as you felt an impact, your back on the mattress, the breath knocked out from your chest. Satoru stood looming over you, his blue eyes flashing in the dark, his snow-white hair glowing like the moon.

“T–toru—” you squeaked, eyes wide as saucers as you gazed up at him.

“Now, my love, if you keep looking at me like that, I’ll have to take you this instant. And that wouldn’t be good for you, would it now?” Satoru sing-songed.

“Wait— this is— this is too much,” you gasped as Satoru took a slow, calculated step towards you. Things were going too fast. You were anxious, you’d never had sex before, and you wanted to take things slowly. But all you could see was Satoru’s tall, lean frame domineering over you, and the rainy window behind him. Brilliant lightning flashed in the purple distance.

“What’s too much, darling?” Satoru asked, taking another step closer.

“I just feel like you’re going to wreck me. I’m really nervous.”

Satoru was never one to get turned on by weakness, but for some reason, your fragility and fawn-like nature worked oh so well in the bedroom.

My my, he just had so much to show you. You wouldn’t be an inexperienced virgin by the end of the night, not with his plan. He’s a teacher, after all. He wants you to figure out the way by diving right in, and figuring out your own rhythm.

Your breath hitched as Satoru pounced on you, his knees bent on the mattress, caging you in as he straddled you from above.

“I am going to wreck you darling,” Satoru breathed, as he pressed feather light kisses to your forehead. You shivered as your boyfriend kept whispering, his voice rumbling gently in the dark. “And you’ll find out what you like, what makes you feel so good. It’s time to learn fast, baby.”

i don’t know if i should finish this— i found this draft in my Google docs for my upcoming enemies to lovers, slow burn & detailed Gojo x reader fanfiction series here, // i must’ve written this when I was feeling a little something something. ♨️♨️

Comment to be on my tag list & if you want me to finish this smut!

[kiestrokes]

Omg so I can't stop thinking about high sex with ateez like ive been so insatiably horny everything I've smoked or had an edible I just AHHH i just want dick so bad

Stoned Sex with ATEEZ | NSFW

Pairing: ATEEZ x Reader/You/Yn (vagina pov) Rating: NSFW. Mature (18+) Minors DNI. Genre: headcanon, imagine, smut. Warnings: cannabis use (obviously), in theory both parties are high, so it is mutual, everyone is consenting, established relationship vibes.

Sexually Explicit Content: mentions of subspace, morning sex, rough sex, deep sex, feral (idk at this point just proceed with caution if you're just a vanilla person), rough touches, kissing, biting, cockwarming, oral (f receiving), humping, thigh fucking, surprise orgasm, orgasms.

🗝️ Note: let me know if I missed anything for the warnings, I am not really here in the realm of proof reading. Sorry, this took me a while to get to my atiny anon, hope it's enough to hold you over until you make it to a dick appt!

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted here. 

Park Seonghwa Hwa appears unassuming, the two of you go through the usual nightly routine but once he's got you in the bed things shift. He's a needy cat, pawing across your body, you fit snug against his hips as he rocks softly into you from behind, moaning about how soft and plush your skin is when he's like this. He doesn't want to be inside you, just nestled between your thighs from behind as his slim fingers play your clit like an instrument, stroking moans out of your body with each pluck.

Kim Hongjoong High Joong gives me feral vibes...HJ is usually so reserved. But something about the THC sends his brain into overdrive. Hongjoong can't keep his mouth off of you. It's everywhere, until it's finally exactly where you need. Between your thighs. He's rocking his hips restlessly into the end of the mattress at each squirm and thrust of you pelvis against his chin.

Jeong Yunho He is probably the most aware while high, the only thing is his grip is a little stronger than normal. Yunho basically wants to embed himself in your body. For his hands to become one with your thighs. You wake up with lovely handprints in the morning reminding you of him.

Kang Yeosang I feel like stoned sex with Yeo is going to be soft, like how Hwa talks about him being cute drunk. He's whiney and very vocally appreciative of you and your body. It's slow and maybe a little intense, missionary with you rolling on top. Yeo loses it when you press him down into the bed. He dissolves a little into subspace when he's high.

Choi San guys (non-gendered) I am so sorry but THIS man, he falls asleep before anything can actually happen. He sleepily stokes your fire, but you're left finishing the job yourself. Sorry to my San biases, I wish I felt different about this one too. He's just a sleepy man. Definitely wakes you up in the morning for some slowww, drawn out sex. He's intense from how he gazes at you to the lingering pace at which he fucks you.

Song Mingi High Mings becomes big and pliable. He's also whiney and vocal like Yeosang, but a little less articulate. Mingi wants to spoon you, which quickly escalates into something else. His hands are all over you, drifting across your body. Crushing you into his lap as he tries to bury himself in you, deeper and deeper with each thrust. The two of you fall asleep with him still inside (rip you with that uti later).

Jung Wooyoung Feral like his hyung...this guy. He can’t get enough of anything. His skin feels like it’s on fire. He wants to be melted to you. Your lips, tongue, it’s drawn-out sex because he doesn’t want it to end. You're overstimulated in the best way possible; every nerve ending is firing.

Choi Jongho Is giggly. I can just FEEL it. Jongho is laughing but also giving you that intense gaze and each touch is purposeful. You're so keyed up from the laughter and foreplay that your giddiness spills over into a quick and extreme orgasm that takes you both by surprise. Jongho has never come so quickly, and you sure as hell never have.

© COPYRIGHT 2023 by kiestrokes All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations.

[hypnoneghoul]

absolution live 2017/2023

here I am with my over 1,5k word autistic ramble about the differences between absolution live from 2017 and 2023. at the end there is an audio file of both versions put together, if anyone would be interested in that. it sound very cool heh

also tags for people who showed interest in this: @forest-rot @ghuleh-recs @counting-eyerolls @ngnt-writes @ghnosis @rain-ghoul-appreciator @sister-rosemary-marie

anyway, under the cut

I will start with an analysis of instruments and players separately, one by one, and then I’ll talk about the whole thing a little bit. Also I’m using only ghoul names in there, but when I’m talking about styles and skills I obviously mean the unmasked folks.

Both in 2017 and 2023 we have Mountain on drums, which gives us a very fun comparison opportunity. In 2017 he goes heavy on the cymbals—according to the original version of the song—but it makes the whole thing a bit too crashy and too clogged. The drums are very widely mixed and set—slightly focused on the left side following the stage layout from then—but I think the cymbals could be a bit quieter in comparison to the actual drums, especially the floor tom. In general we can hear how smaller Mountain’s kit was in 2017. In 2023 the entire drum part is sharper and deeper, more bassy and it’s focused more in the middle. The way it feels to me, in 2017 the drums are the background and in 2023 they are the core. Mountain has better fills in 2023, he obviously got more comfortable just jamming in there and having fun over the years.

Dewdrop on bass in 2017; we can hear (or at least I can) that he is not a bassist. He scrapes his pick on the strings a lot which is connected to him being primarily a guitarist—it’s about the picking hand placement and angle. The bass is pretty quiet and it has overdrive on it. It helps conceal his buzzing a little bit, because it happens a fair amount for Dewdrop. Again—bass is not his main instrument. We can also hear exactly when he slams it, like we know he loves doing. In general sometimes he’s quieter and sometimes he’s louder and it’s mostly caused by his picking; how he angles his hand in certain moments and how much strength he puts into it. At the end he goes absolutely feral. Not surprising.

Rain in 2023 is amazing. He’s very skilled, and it’s a huge shame Ghost doesn’t have any songs that could really allow him to show off. He hit his cue a bit too fast at one point, but it might as well be intentional. He’s so much clearer and cleaner, both due to his skills and the settings. Rain has more drop, he most likely has his bass on a different pickup setup than Dewdrop, plus they used different basses—Rain’s with additional mods. One of those mods is a very heavy bridge—Badass Bass—and I bet we can thank that piece for the sustain and note definition in Rain’s playing. In general it flows more, fits into the whole image better. His changes in volume are controlled, not accidental like it happens for Dewdrop. Rain puts more slides, tiny additions and note changes into his live playing, it makes it a bit more lively to me. He’s put perfectly in the middle, nicely blended with the drums.

Unfortunately there isn’t much I can say about Ifrit, Dewdrop, Aether and Phantom mainly because “Absolution” isn’t really a guitar focused song and so it isn't the best song to compare guitar skills, either. The most interesting part—guitar wise—is the solo and little fills on the rhythm now and then.

Ifrit is very precise, I couldn’t hear any mistakes from him, but also the lead is surprisingly quiet in general. His palm muting is on spot, pull-offs and hammer-ons both in the chorus and the solo are very clean and he is simply a pro, he’s got super skills and I wish we could’ve gotten more (</3). He makes the whole song as lively as his stage personality, it sounds flowy but packed with emotions and still so precise it hurts.

Dewdrop’s sound is way better, though he and Ifrit are close skill wise. The difference between Hagstrom Fantomen and Fender Stratocaster is a big one, the main aspect that we can hear is the sharpness of the former and more grounded sound of the latter. Those two guitars also have a very different pickup arrangements—Dew’s strat has SSS (3x single-coils) pickups and he uses the bridge one (which is a Seymour Duncan Hot Rail), and the Fantomen’s has HH (two humbuckers that can be slip, but as far as I’m aware no ghoul used that feature), also with the bridge one used more frequently. In “Absolution” Dewdrop doesn’t add very much—as he does to some other songs—so it’s pretty much the same as the original version. There are small differences that inherently come with his style and that is what makes his version differ from both Ifrit’s and the album's, but it’s all very slight. Dew also makes a very good use of his pedals, mainly wah—especially at the end.

Aether is a bit off tempo in some parts. He plays well, mostly clean, but we can pick out some slight mistakes—mostly sounds that aren’t supposed to be there. His palm muting is a bit too light. He goes heavy on the pick which makes his part of the solo a bit sharp (especially that he’s playing the higher harmony) and square-ish. The sharpness is, again, something we can partially blame on the Fantomen. Only partially because both Ifrit and Phantom prove that it’s manageable. 

Phantom is very clean, he adds a lot of slides which is a feature of his personal style. Said style of his is very lively and fun, to me it sounds and feels like a slinky (don’t laugh at me it’s the autism). He’s more fluid both in the solo and the rest of the song than Aether, but makes one—barely noticeable—mistake in the solo where he misses a note.

Also Phantom and Dewdrop in 2023 are more in sync than Aether and Ifrit in 2017. For whatever reason.

Now keyboard; Zephyr goes absolutely ham on the keys, but it is a piano song so that’s not only understandable, but also desirable, I would say. Key’s are in the right ear with slight migration to the middle when it matters, again according to the stage layout. Their precision and speed and overall skill is insane, the ending when they go wild is the most impressive part, because the song itself doesn’t give many opportunities. If you haven’t seen a video of Zephyr playing that ending you gotta do it now because it really is insane (RIP to that Nord Stage 2 though). The synth fill before the solo in 2017 is played back, in 2023 it’s played live by Cirrus.

In 2023 Cirrus plays the main chorus keyboard part, it can be heard easily on the left side (so once again stage layout accordingly). It’s clean and precise, she’s also very skilled, but unfortunately doesn’t really show off at the end like Zephyr does. Cumulus plays some chords before the solo while Cirrus plays the synth fill.

Vocals are not my thing so I’m only going to say what most of us can hear; Terzo is very nasal, but cleaner, and sings a bit higher. Clear pronunciation, good flow. It’s closest to Tobias’ normal singing voice. Copia is even more nasal, more growly and raspy. They’re both, obviously, in the middle in case of mixing.

Backing vocals in 2017 are all play-back for obvious reasons—pretty simple, taken straight off of the album recording. It’s put on the left, but it could be more favorable in the middle. 2023 is way more spectacular thanks to—mainly—the backing vocals. They are 90% Aurora and Cumulus, with lower levels of Cirrus and barely anything of Swiss. He’s louder by the end. I’m still conflicted about the growls—if it is Swiss or Papa’s play-back—but it’s a great addition that was very mild in 2017’s play-back. The backing vocals are on the sides, accordingly to the stage layout. It all just adds more spice, I adore them.

Sound engineering and mixing is so much better in 2023. We can easily tie it to the budget (though I’d like to “blame” it on Hayden’s part in the engineering, he’s a mastermind, too). The sound is much clearer and fluid than in 2017, it highlights all the instruments perfectly at the same time. Mixing in 2017 is more blunt, it’s a bit duller and some changes in volumes and placements of instruments could—or even should—be made. It doesn’t mean 2017 sucks—far from it—it’s just a technical difference which actually warms my heart if we look at how far has Ghost come. So, once again, considering the budget in 2017 vs. 2023 it’s all understandable. Also the crowd sound control in 2023 is very fun; it makes a great use of all the yelling causing the whole song to sound warmer and fuller.

Both 2017 and 2023 are on the exact same tempo, they can be put over each other perfectly (which I did). They slide apart at the end and the break before the outro is longer in 2023. The 2023 outro itself is pretty boring in comparison to 2017, most likely because in 2023 it’s not a closing song. Below there’s both “Absolutions” over each other; 2023 in the left and 2017 in the right headphone.

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

Why do I also kinda feel like San, Mingi, and Hongjoong are all bitchless too?? Like w the way they’re so sexual on stage kinda gives off “im sexually frustrated, this is my coping mechanism with it” kinda vibes. A lot like Chris, they use the stage as their release in a way.

NO BECAUSE WAIT HEAR ME OUT!!!

I'm working a theory that I think the male kpop idols with the sexiest most fboi/freakiest stage persona are actually the most bitchless in real life- there's way too much evidence confirming that's real.

Hongjoong is definitely bitchless imo b/c I'm certain he's demi like me and after releasing 'why do you love'- I legit don't think he's got people in his bed-

If you're physically celibate against your uterus's will like I am and have been for awhile then you will get what I'm about to say next-

Hongjoong to me has the energy of someone who looks like they haven't gotten any for a very, VERY long time.

San is definitely someone who looks like a fuckboi and I can imagine having multiple ppl in his bed every night but he for sure bitchless after I saw him post on toktoq and write an entire fanfic scenario he had with yeosang in his mind and described in detail about how in his mind Yeosang speaks in aegyo because of how cute he is-

Mingi looks like he would fuck someone on stage whilst performing if the opportunity was allowed but he bitchless for sure because every week he on toktoq talking about all the random documentaries he watched in a week- he watched 4 history documentaries in 5 days.

Seonghwa to me doesn't give off bitchless energy, I think he's getting some on the regular and I thought he was causing grooves in the sheets in Paris-

and then my mind changed when I saw him go live on Toktoq and he was SMASHED, there was no thought in his mind he was so drunk, happily carrying around a bunch of snacks in his arms like a big baby and then proceeding to talk to atiny's whilst in a bathrobe in his hotel room and then make ramen WHILST it was still in the packaging (hot water and everything) and then just ate it half-cooked.

and I watched that entire live and thought he was adorable the whole time because I was thinking how wholesome Seonghwa is that out of all the things he could have done in Paris after getting canned, he was like-

'I just want to go live in my bathrobe, eat ramen without a bowl and yap with Atiny's about nonsense'

And I think that's kinda sweet and shows a lot about what his priorities are... food, comfort and freedom (very aqua Venus of him).

I thought Jungkook was champagne confetting it 7 days a week and then he goes live with his solo karaoke sessions, lightsaber in the middle of his hallway and no furniture on the walls and i'm like- BITCHLESS!!!

And then what confirmed my theory is when Matthew from Kard went live (love Kard btw) and Matthew (I fkn FROTH over this man I stg) mainly writes the songs for Kard and his lyrics are NASTY like-

'throw it back like a frisbee she wants the tip and I ain't talking bout guidance'

And so ppl assume he's freaky right like FERAL in the sheets and he went live and ppl were teasing him about his freaky nature and he was like-

'I'm actually not as freaky as you all think I am, if its too freaky I'm not into it- I'm just a passionate person and I know you all think I'm freakier than what I am because of the lyrics I write'

And that's when I realised that maybe it is the bitchless guys that act the freakiest.

That and I found out that Changbin wrote like 80% of the lyrics in 'I Like It' and I was not expecting that AT ALL so maybe Chris is bitchless and Changbin is out here asking 'don't ask what are we?'

what I know for sure is I'm watching Hyunjin and Changbin go live on Instagram with Hyunjin acting like a loved-up wife and it's making me feel bitchless

[stellarbit]

Reassurance

I needed some positive affirmations and I made Tech give em. No real warnings, but light discussion of anxiety.

2.8k words

You asked Wrecker to train with you and you keep getting knocked on your ass. Tech offers to help and ends up helping more than you thought possible.

It's a comfort fic mostly and I'm feral for some Tech comfort. Enjoyyyy (Also let me know if you can spot the other potential prompt in here.)

“You’re doing it wrong.” Wrecker chuckled.

You hit the sparring mat hard, knocking some of the air from you. Since surrendering your lightsaber, you took to honing your other combat skills. Wrecker’s hand-to-hand skills were some of the best and he was happy to help when you approached him.

He towered over you as you got back on your feet. “You need to put your weight into it.” 

“I am.” You didn’t mean to sound as annoyed as you did.

“No you’re not.” Crosshair taunted in a sing-song tone from his place leaning against a far wall. The downtime was rare and Crosshair deemed watching you flounder worthy of that time. “You hesitate every time you need to push harder. An easy way to get killed.”

You whirled on him. “I push as hard as I can.” Everything about the thin sniper got under your skin. In a way that made you want to hurry up and see what face he’d make when you slap him across the face. Because it wasn’t and if. It was absolutely a when.

Multiple times you caught him watching you. When you did, his stare stayed on whatever part had caught his attention before slowly meeting your eyes. The way he smirked and chewed that fucking toothpick screamed, ‘Do it, I dare you.’

Crosshair shook his head dismissively and snorted. “No. You’re not.”

Wrecker stepped between you and Crosshair, his massive frame blocking your view. His hands were splayed out in a placating gesture.“What he means is you’re holding back.”

“Or maybe she’s afraid of hurting you.” Crosshair quipped.

Wrecker belted out a laugh, “Ha! Yeah, right.” At that, you cut him a mean look.

The door to the sparring room hissed open and Tech filed in, out of armor and no databad in hand. He took in the sight of you all, to his eyes, just standing around. “Well that was short lived. I thought you’d be sparring most of the afternoon.”

“We are.” Your temper was quickly burning through your patience. “They just have some unhelpful commentary.”

“Perhaps, although you do not handle criticism well.” Tech turned to Wrecker. “What seems to be the issue?”

Wrecker chose his words carefully, wary of the intensity of your glare. "She..." He paused, feeling the weight of your disapproving stare. "She hits a wall and hesitates when she needs to push through."

Tech pondered for a moment, tapping a knuckle to his chin. “I’d like to see what exactly you mean. I may be able to troubleshoot this obstacle.” He tipped his head to you. “If you don’t mind my watching.”

Your stomach flipped. There hadn't been many opportunities for the two of you to be alone. In fact, you hadn’t been alone since your last mission ended. You were discreet in seeking out his company, mindful of not being too obvious. Despite helping you with your broken armor before and acknowledging, even relishing, your attraction to him, nothing more had come of it. You were starting to wonder if it had just been a passing interest for him.

Wrecker and you assumed your positions while Tech adjusted his goggles, a soft beep indicating the start of his recording.

You followed the familiar routine, blending the techniques Wrecker had taught you with those instilled by your former Master. Initially, everything flowed smoothly as you utilized your agility to evade Wrecker's raw strength. There were moments when you successfully countered his attacks and seized the offensive. However, as Wrecker intensified his efforts, a tightness began coiling in your stomach that radiated into your limbs.

The sensation swelled, threatening to overflow or overwhelm you entirely. Just as it had countless times before, the intensity reached a dizzying point where you could no longer anticipate Wrecker's moves. Ultimately, in your attempt to flank him, Wrecker landed an elbow to your chest, sending you sprawling onto your back.

The wind knocked out of you again, leaving you writhing on the floor. Another beep came from Tech’s direction. Recording over I guess.

Wrecker rushed to you. “I think we should stop for today.”

“Agreed.” Tech said firmly as he approached. Kneeling down, he made himself at home inspecting your head for injuries. “While phrenospasms aren’t typically life threatening, it is best to rest after experiencing them.” After a moment of silence, Tech sighed, “You need to catch your breath.”

Wrecker winced, knelt down, and slid a hand under your back to ease you into a sitting position. “Sorry about that, sarad,” His large hand did a few circles on your back before sliding to your cheek. The soft gesture soothed you. “But you’ll get it!” He gave you one last pat on the back before standing up.

Tech clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "I'll check her over," he announced, his annoyance evident. Waving off their presence in a bored manner, he added, "It would be best if that happened without any 'unhelpful commentary.'”

Crosshair pushed off of the wall. “Well, if you’re looking for someone else to knock you down, I’ll gladly do it.” You nearly bit his leg as he walked by.

When the door shut and you were alone, Tech pulled your face back in his direction. “Do not dwell on Crosshair’s remarks. He enjoys getting a rise out of people.” With his arm cradling your back, he held your arm and brought the two of you to your feet. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” You took a deep breath in, stepped out of his grasp, and rolled your shoulders. “Just need to practice.” Tech's gaze remained focused on you, analyzing your every move. "When you started hesitating, right before Wrecker landed that hit, you were thinking something. What was it?"

“I wasn’t thinking of anything.” You said quickly, hoping he would drop it.

He didn’t. “You were definitely processing something. Other than your sparring, what were you feeling?”

You turned and blinked at Tech. He never failed to surprise you. “Emotionally?” Analyzing the failures in your strategy was one thing, asking about feelings was a completely separate realm.

Tech shook his head, “No, no. Physically” He walked forward and placed a hand in the middle of your chest. “Just now, you may not be thinking a singular thought but you are feeling your heart rate spiking. Am I correct?” He could feel it himself, but it was important you acknowledged it.

Of course he was correct, his touch kicked your heart into your throat. 

When you nodded he continued. “It is safe to say that is due to your attraction to me. While you may not be actively thinking about it, your body is reacting with patterned behavior due to recurring circumstantial stimuli.” He pulled his hand back and said, “In other words, our bodies remember how we react during significant events. When exposed to similar circumstances our bodies tend to react in an established pattern. It can be positive, like nostalgia. Or it can be detrimental in the cases of fear or stress. Our bodies react before our minds can register what we feel.” He let out a final quip, “It is a survival instinct.”

Tech stepped back and rolled a hand towards you, urging you on. “Now, what were you feeling?”

Taking a second to take what he said in, you realized no one had ever asked you that. The Jedi pointed out identified concerning behavior in you and voiced their warnings, but they never asked you where it stemmed from. They made their theories that then solidified into fact. After that, not much changed their minds. One abided by their rules … or left. 

Seeing how you were stationed with a squad of clones sans a lightsaber, it was clear where your path went. 

Your gaze wandered around the room - anywhere but at Tech. “Something built inside me and I lost focus.”

“Your avoidant behavior suggests this is an uncomfortable topic. Why?”

As well meaning as his questioning may have been, showing him what the Jedi Council had seen hadn’t been at the top of your priorities. “It’s just… I know there’s something wrong with me. But don’t worry,” You tried to laugh it off, “I’ll figure it out.”

Tech’s brows furrowed and his head tilted, clearly confused as to how you got to that conclusion, “I did not say, nor do I believe, you are defective.” The last word snapped your eyes back to him. It didn’t carry weight for just you. “Did the Jedi tell you that?”

Suddenly you could hear your Master’s voice, ‘Dangerous.’ It rang through you and with it came shame. Looking at Tech, patiently asking you questions for your own benefit, your Master’s voice fell silent. 

  “I can’t fight like the Jedi. They fight with the force to keep peace for the greater good.” You hesitate before continuing. “But this energy builds inside of me and I want to use it because sometimes… sometimes I want to win no matter the cost.” Tech’s expression had not changed; he did not seem to grasp the issue. Desperately, you clasped your hands to your chest. “That’s wrong. It’s selfish and that’s not the way of the Jedi. Being selfish can make us - “ You flinched, “them dangerous. Jedi aren’t supposed to want things. I want a great many things, Tech, and the list only grows. The way I am makes me weak minded and dangerous.”

“When you say that you feel this way ‘sometimes,’ what kind of instances are you referring to?”

“The times when losing will cost me something I care about.”

“There is no passion, there is serenity.” Tech recited one of the tenets of the Jedi. “There is no emotion, there is peace.”

“Exactly.” His boundless knowledge earned him a humorous scoff from you.

Tech hummed in understanding. “I can see the Jedi perspective on such traits, considering their Code. However, I'm struggling to discern the correlation between that and your issue with Wrecker. It's merely a practice session, therefore you're not in danger of losing anything beyond the match itself.

You both stood in silence for a few moments. Reflecting on what you confessed and with eyes on the ground, you finally spoke, “I asked Wrecker to spar because I want to know that when I fight I will win. I lose focus because losing to Wrecker now means I’m going to lose something more important than a match in the future.”

An extra set of feet came into sight followed by Tech’s face.

Tech knelt to meet your eyes, adjusting his goggles to better observe you. "The logic in that statement is flawed, at best." he remarked, his tone measured. 

"Individual motivations and morals in combat varies from person to person. As long as your primary motive isn’t causing others or yourself pain, there is no wrong way to survive."

"What if my actions to protect what matters to me hurts others?" The genuine fear on your face caught Tech off guard. "If I prioritize a few, what about the rest?" Your self-doubt and self-loathing troubled Tech; it was a burden you didn't deserve to bear.

“There will always be champions for the many. The few, however, need their champions too.” A slight quirk of his lips hinted at a comforting reassurance. "Additionally, if you're using losing to Wrecker as a benchmark for your future success rates, I'd advise adjusting your expectations. Even General Skywalker himself lost a sparring match to Wrecker. Merely holding your own against him is an accomplishment worthy of pride."

The way your face contorted paired with you sinking to your knees made him worry you might be sick. Instead you sucked in a massive breath and on a shakey exhale you said, “Tech, thank you.” You sounded lighter. A point of satisfaction for Tech.

There was something Tech wanted for you. “What you feel and how you feel is valid. It is crucial you know that.” He cupped his hand just below your ear to smooth his thumb over your cheek. “Until you do, I am glad to remind you.”

Tech’s eyes fell to your lips momentarily, your pained expression warmed into a small smile. There was only one thing missing. He moved his hand to brush his thumb over your bottom lip. Your breath caught, and your lips parted involuntarily. "I am curious to hear about this growing list of wants." Slipping his forefinger under your chin he moved your gaze with his as he raised to his knees, posturing over you. It gave him a full view of the flush finally working its way across your cheeks. "Have there been any recent additions?"

Looking at the way your hair was bound together, he didn’t deny the urge to explore a few things. He hooked finger into your hair tie and pulled your hair loose. It fell down, some of it falling into your face. Tech use his fingers to comb your hair back, stopping at the nape of your neck, and then circling his hand back to your cheek. Watching you over the past few rotations, he’d noticed your fondness for your face being touched.

Leaning into his touch, with a hand resting over his, you were practically purring for him. “There have.” You said, spurring him on.

“Do people appear on this list?”

Your nod came with a subtle shift in your gaze, your eyes half-lidded. Tech felt a flutter in his chest, he even felt heat creeping into his own face.

"Do I feature on this list?" he ventured, his voice betraying a bit of anticipation.

Your eyes drifted to his lips before meeting his gaze once more. "I want you, Tech," you confessed, a weighty emotion evident in your expression.

Tech's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding as he lowered himself slightly. In response, you leaned forward, closing the distance between you. "What exactly do you want, sarad?" he inquired softly.

Just as he hoped, your eyes widened for a split second at the sound of their nickname for you. It meant "flower" in Mando'a—a fitting description for how you blossomed in their presence, and at this moment, in his. 

"Stars above, I want you to kiss me.” Without hesitation, you seized Tech, drawing him down to your level. When your lips hit, Tech only tensed for a second, his hand finding its place at your waist, drawing you closer and deepening the kiss. You responded eagerly, capturing his lower lip with a gentle suck.

A soft, pleased sound escaped Tech's lips as he tightened his grip on your hair, pulling you impossibly closer. Your hands roamed freely, one wrapping around his back while the other found its place around his neck. With a forceful tug you two stumbled backward in unison.

Not breaking the kiss, Tech shoved the hand on your waist out to cushion the fall. Once lowered onto your back, he pulled away to hover over you and allowed you both some air. You didn’t let him pull too far away, stopping him by hooking a leg around his. The pressure of you grinding up into him pulled another little sound from him. His eyes squeezed shut before he playfully pressed his weight down onto you. “I will say one thing.”

With a playful huff, you teased, "Only one thing this time?"

Tech arched an eyebrow in amusement. "Just this once." With deliberate movements, he pushed himself up onto one elbow, transitioning back onto his knees, while simultaneously lifting you to him and allowing your legs to hang around his waist.

You pulled yourself up onto his lap, holding onto his neck for support. “Go on.”

"You are not weak," Tech affirmed, his hands firmly grasping your thighs as he bounced on his heels and lifted you both up. His movements were fluid as he rose to his feet, a smirk playing on his lips. "But I daresay you are dangerous."

His remark elicited a genuine laugh from you, though it didn't diminish the charm you found in his words. If anything, it heightened it.

With a subtle tap on your leg, he signaled for you to lower your legs. “As enjoyable as this is, I'd prefer not to delve further into it while my brothers could walk in at any moment," he explained, assisting you to regain your balance. With a deft movement, he produced your hair tie as if out of thin air. "I've given great thought to the aspects of you I wish to explore. And I intend to do so without interruption."

Before you could get another touch in Tech stepped back and tapped his goggles, initiating a soft beep. “Now that we’ve identified the issue, get into position and show me your stances.”

You laughed, “You’re kidding me.”

“I am not, but should you need further encouragement I do have ideas for rewards for your strongest positions.”

It didn’t take you long to get into position.

[hotluncheddie]

Wherever you go, that’s where I am.

lovely @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx mentioned writing some more mid 20s, slightly softer body steve <3 so here is: Five times Eddie loves Steve’s body and one time Steve loves Eddie’s 

wc: 3.5k | cw: none | rated: M | tags: established relationship, body worship, feral pining goblin eddie munson, chubby steve harrington, fluff, they're in love (so so so in love)

ao3

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

1.

Eddie leaps back into the bed, mattress bouncing. He’s been hit with the post coital zoomies, which unfortunately go against Steve’s post nut ritual of passing the fuck out. 

But Eddie doesn’t mind. Not when Steve looks so soft, all curled up, laying on his side. 

Eddie cleans up, Steve teeters on the verge of sleep until Eddie’s finished and spoons him. It’s foolproof. 

He nuzzles into Steve’s shoulder, kissing over the skin and down his back. He traces over the scars at Steve’s hip, just like his own. It still makes Eddie shiver when he thinks about it sometimes, him and his boyfriend, connected like that. 

Eddie nuzzled in more and Steve lets out a sleepy groan. He’s so cute when he gets fucked boneless. Eddie would know, he’s the one that gets to do the fucking. 

Letting his hands roam further Eddie sneaks around to Steve’s stomach, stroking the soft hairs of his happy trail and letting his fingers press into the slight pudge that sits there now. It feels nice, like his Steve, relaxed and happy and safe. 

‘I like this’ Eddie says, giving the soft skin a squeeze. 

Steve grunts. ‘Wha?’ Eddie thinks he says, Steve’s face is smushed into the pillow. 

Eddie smiles, kisses his shoulder. ‘This.’ Eddie squeezes again, splaying his whole hand over it, pressing his fingers into the warm skin slightly. 

Steve just grunts again, turns his head to lay on the pillow properly. ‘I’ll go for a run tomorrow.’ He says, voice still rough with impending sleep. 

‘What?’ Eddie asks, because, huh? ‘Steve, I just said I like it.’ and Eddie scoots closer, tries to get a look at Steve’s face over his shoulder. 

He seems to be puzzling something out in his head, eyebrows slightly furrowed over his closed eyelids. ‘Oh.’ He says softly. ‘Kay.’ And he shimmies back into Eddie more, face smoothing out. 

Eddie squeezes him, tucking him up into his chest. ‘Yeah oh.’ He murmurs, kissing between Steve’s shoulder blades. ‘Silly.’ He adds fondly. Silly guy, how could he think Eddie sees him as anything other than the breathtaking, heavenly angel that he is? 

Steve just grunts again, resting his hand over Eddie’s on his stomach and falling dead asleep. His soft snores filling the room. 

Eddie resists the urge to bite his shoulder. Instead curling around him more and holding him as close as possible. Maybe they should talk about this at some point, why his mind went where it did. 

Not right now though. right now Eddie just lets himself drift off, lulled by the steady breathing of his most favourite person. 

2.

Eddie is going to erect an alter. And build a shrine. And kneel before it to give thanks. 

And it will all be dedicated to one, Bruce Springsteen. 

Eddie will never ever, cross his heart, ever complain about Steve playing ‘Born in the USA’ multiple times in a row. He’ll even put it at the top of his all time album lists. He’ll do it. He will. 

Because that album cover, that guy, those songs, inspired his Steve to look like that. 

And Eddie has never been a winner. But he hit the fucking jackpot today. Every day. All the days Steve will still let Eddie have him. 

The band had taken a trip into Chicago for some very exiting meetings. With Steve, angel that he is, offering to chauffeur so none of them would be too tired, and so they only had to spring for a hotel for one night instead of two. 

During said meeting Steve had been entertaining himself. The latest that Eddie got out of had been the longest and most exiting, so he’s happy. 

He’s maybe even happier though that Steve found such a productive way to entertain himself. 

Because Eddie too, is entertained. 

He’s waiting at Steve’s car, leaning against the front bumbler. And Steve, blessed, beautiful, jock that he is, had found the batting cages. 

Eddie’s going to write a song about blue jeans. He’s going to send Brucy a letter of thanks for causing Steve to cut the sleeves off his old grey crew neck. He’s going to need to get his mouth on Steve’s dick ASAP if he intends on walking over with his baseball bat over his shoulder the way it is, hips swaying, smug little smirk on his face. Maybe Eddie just needs a lobotomy, it’s all a little too much. 

Steve walks right past him, tapping him under the chin as he goes.

Eddie’s mouth was open, respectfully. 

Then he hears the boot click open, and Eddie quickly scampers around to the back of the car. 

Just in time to watch Steve bend over, putting the bat back, ass round and thick and filling up his jeans oh, so nicely. 

Eddie might have to write a whole album about blue jeans actually. Especially these new ones, a size or so bigger since high school, more room to let the full force of Steve show to the world. 

It’s just, there’s a certain level more bounce to it all now, and it makes Eddie kind of insane. 

And, oh, yep, Steve’s arching his back, okay. He wants Eddie to die, yep, like, actually die, for real. 

He’s not even really keeping up the rouse of pretending to be doing something. He’s just bent over with his back arched and his ass sticking out, shirt lifted just enough for Eddie to see the base of his spine. 

He’s doing it knowing Eddie’s looking. Knowing they’re in public. Knowing Eddie’s looking but they’re in public so Eddie can’t do anything. 

Menace. Brat. Evil. Evil. Evil. 

‘Boys are at the diner down the street. Said we’d meet them there.’ Eddie says, monotone, rough and with herculean effort. They need to go. He can’t do any of the many things he wants to to Steve right now. So they should go, for Eddie’s heart and soul and sanity’s sake. 

Eddie sighs, he really could look at this scene all day, but that would waste time, valuable, Steve and Eddie alone in the privacy of a room time. Which is sacred. 

‘We’ll be home by tonight you know?’ Steve says, leaning on the now closed boot. He’s taking pity on Eddie but he still looks a little smug, which is annoyingly, all, also hot. ‘C’mon, I’ll keep my hand on your thigh on the drive to the diner, the way you like.’ Steve murmurs, coming up behind Eddie and pushing him lightly, steering him towards the car. 

‘Home by tonight.’ Eddie parrots, his life line. He’ll be home by tonight, with Steve. Alone with just Steve, and he can do some of the many many things, whatever Steve will let him, whatever Steve wants.

3.

‘You come here often?’ Steve asks, grin loose and sloppy, eyes lidded. One arm resting on the doorframe next to Eddie’s head. Steve’s staring at his lips. 

Eddie smiles at him, tucks a lock of hair behind Steve’s ear. Cradling his cheek Eddie shakes Steves head slightly. ‘I do baby. I live here.’ And Steve giggles, tucks his head into Eddie’s neck, like this is the best news in the world. 

They’ve just got in from the bar, Steve crowding into Eddie’s space as soon as he got the door locked. Robin found a girl, away for the night. Steve had a couple more than normal to drink. 

Eddie can’t help but laugh along with him, kissing the side of his head and resting his hands on his hips to start walking them backwards towards their room. ‘C’mon big boy.’ He says, just to make Steve giggle more. 

Steve lifts his head back up, smile still big and loose, eyes still lidded. ‘Dance with me?’ He asks, like Eddie can’t tell he’s twenty minutes away for being passed out in bed, his fruity drinks always making him crash eventually. 

But Eddie can’t really say no to Steve, especially not when he’s like this, care free and blinding. When he’s beautifully alive. 

Eddie takes a step back, takes Steve’s hand and twirls him. Steve stumbles slightly, laughing again. 

With his arm up Eddie can see some of his soft hip and belly as his t-shirt lifts, can see that his jeans are unbuttoned. Which is not surprising since they’re practically painted on. Steve explained that he likes feeling Eddie up against him when they dance, likes the way Eddie’s eyes sharpen if someone looks a little too long. And oh, people look, it’s not just Eddie who notices how those jeans fit, how wonderful Steve always looks. 

But Eddie’s the only one who gets to see Steve like this. Home at the end of the night. When Steve needs that extra room, when he lets his soft parts breathe a little better. When he relaxes fully. 

That’s just for Eddie. And it’s the best part. 

Eddie twirls Steve again and lets him fall back into his chest. Giggles dying out slowly and breath coming deeper and slower. Steve hums, squeezing Eddie’s middle and breathing in the skin behind his ear. Steve leaves kisses down Eddie’s neck, a little wet, making Eddie shiver. Steve hums and does it again. ‘Love you.’ He whispers, holding Eddie close. 

Eddie squeezes back, his heart bursting. ‘Love you too baby.’ He says into Steve’s hair, into his bones, into all his soft wonderful edges. ‘Let me take my love to bed now, hm?’ He asks, dipping his hands into Steve’s back pockets, squeezing just to feel Steve tense and then relax against him. 

Steve nods, still in Eddie’s neck. One last kiss and he’s moving. Pulling Eddie by the hand through to their room. Kicking off his shoes and falling onto the bed with Eddie on top of him. Steve’s eyes already closed, breath already slowing and deepening. Like he knows Eddie will take care of the rest of their clothes, knows Eddie will tuck the blanket up around him, will hold Steve close all night. Knows Eddie will take care of him 

Because Eddie will. Always. 

4.

‘Looking good Munson.’ Steve says, jogging past Eddie, panting slightly, smacking Eddie on the ass. Making Eddie jolt and almost spill his coffee. 

He was leaning against the car door, face hidden in his arms because he’s just had to watch his very hot boyfriend complete his weekly work out at the park. Running, push-ups, the whole horrible lot. 

And its ass o’clock in the morning because Eddies vans broke and he needs a ride to work, but he wants his love to have hobbies and be happy and Steve can only get him there if Eddie came along to watch. So, really, Eddie can deal with the early morning but, he’s not sure if his dick can. 

Because ass. 

Ass, was right. 

And hip. And thigh. And bicep. And back. 

Steve is chugging his water, sweaty. His shirt is cropped, his shorts are short and he’s wearing a backwards baseball cap to keep his hair out of his face. 

He’s even got tube socks pulled up over his hairy calf’s. 

He looks like a spread from the magazine Eddie used to keep under his mattress. It was dog eared and kind of, maybe, a little bit.. Sticky. 

And Steve knows about the magazine. 

Steve knows what he’s doing to Eddie right now. 

Eddie glares at him over his largest they own coffee cup. It’s so early and the shirts a little see through. The shorts dig in to the softness at his hips, cut so high Eddie can see the smooth skin of his inner thighs. He watches the muscle and slight chub move when Steve shifts on his feet. 

Eddie walks up to him. Knocking his head between Steve’s beautiful, wonderful, hairy, sweaty pecs. Thud thud thud. 

Eddie groans. 

Why does his boyfriend have to be so stupidly, annoyingly hot right before work? 

Eddie wordlessly follows Steve’s lead and gets back in the car. He glares at the amused smile on Steves face, but then Steve checks all around to make sure the park is still blessedly empty and kisses Eddie sweetly on the temple. Eddie sighs, mollified, he can get over it. 

But then Steve puts his arm around the back of Eddie’s seat, swivelling to look out the back as he reverses. Eddie’s hit with his body heat and smell, all detergent and cologne mixed with sweat and musk and Steve. 

His broad chest right by Eddie’s head, a peak of pink nipple through white cotton, the chain Eddie got him for Christmas dangling into his chest hair. He’s so capable and in control, practical and smart and…

Eddie back at square one. He can’t get over it actually. It’s early and Steve is being a brat dressing like that. Being so hot on purpose. It’s so mean. 

‘You wanna stop for breakfast?’ Steve asks, voice light. 

‘Yeh.’ Eddie grunts, voice small, hands shoved in his jacket. 

‘What d’you want?’ and Eddie can hear the amused smile on Steves face again, his voice a little patronising. 

But Eddie doesn’t care. ‘You.’ He whines, resisting the urge to straddle Steve’s thighs and wrap his arms around his middle and squeeze him. He’d be so warm, and sweaty and soft and strong and perfect. 

They could just make out! Eddie could probably survive all day if he got a bit of tongue down his throat. 

‘Well, I’m getting a breakfast sandwich.’ Steve says, switching to drive and Eddie just whines again, burying his head in his hands. 

5.   

It’s a routine, Eddie doing this for Steve, to make sure his scars heal properly. They won’t ever fade fully but the ointment helps, the doctor said it would, and Eddie likes doing it. Sitting on the edge of the bed and having Steve stand between his thighs, shirt off before him. Eddie likes taking care of Steve like this. Likes that Steve lets him. 

‘You’ve got a new one.’ Eddie says, running the cream over Steve’s skin. 

Steve tenses, looks down at himself. ‘What?’ He asks, confused, a little stressed. 

Eddie hushes him, leans forward and kisses the skin below his bellybutton lightly, before smearing the cream there too. ‘Shh. Here.’ He prods the stretch mark that travels over the softness that now covers Steve’s hip bone, his fingers pressing into the give. 

Steve cranes his neck to look at it, squeezing the skin to inspect it. But he grips so hard, Eddie smacks his hand away gently. ‘Careful.’ He says. Petting over the redness Steve left. ‘That’s my sweetheart you're man handling there, show some respect.’ And he leans back to look up at Steves face. 

His cheeks are red and he looks annoyed, brows furrowed and lips pursed in a pout. ‘What is it love?’ Eddie asks, resting his hands on Steve’s sides. 

‘S’ugly’ Steve mumbles, moving his arms like he wants to cross them but Eddie shifts a little closer and Steve re routs to place them on Eddie’s shoulders with a sigh. 

Eddie kisses his stomach again. Kisses the stretch mark, the scars that travel over his waist. Does the same to the other side. ‘Nah.’ Eddie disagrees softly. ‘You’re beautiful Steve, all your marks are.’ And Eddie kisses his favourite mole, the one that sits below his left pec. ‘But this one’s my new favourite part.’ And he rubs his thumb over the red lightning bold, looks at Steve again. His eyes wide and glassy, his mouth relaxed into the pretties little ‘o’. 

‘Shows how much you’ve grown, how much you’ve healed. It’s all yours baby.’ And he watches Steve swallow, nod his head. 

Eddie goes back to spreading the ointment over Steve’s skin, taking his time, and when he’s finished he lays Steve down, pushing him into the mattress, breathing him in. Promising over and over that he’s so beautiful, so strong and amazing. That Eddie loves him, always has and always will. Until Steve believes him. Until every inch of skin is covered in kisses and praise. Until he’s writhing and panting in the sheets. Eddie kissing his tears away, their lips meeting, salty and slick. 

They fall asleep wrapped up in each other. Eddie almost fully drifted off but not before he feels a final, butterfly light peck on his throat. A little ‘thank you’ whispered into the skin. It’s so quiet he almost misses it. He pulls Steve closer, holds him tighter, and let's sleep take him. 

+1

On Sundays Steve makes breakfast. Or brunch, really, because they always sleep in. But breakfast food, late every Sunday morning. 

He always wakes up first anyway. So he starts cooking while Eddie gets another hour or so of rest. It’s like he stacks them up, needs them to get him through the week. The extra on Sunday allowing him a hour or two leeway for late night Eddie Time after his shifts. Steve doesn’t mind, lets him sleep. 

This week it’s french toast and scrabbled eggs, a little fruit, and, like every morning, coffee. 

Steve hears the telltale thud of Eddie stumbling out of bed. Hears his footsteps travel from the bedroom to the bathroom, and finally into their little kitchen. Where he feels sleep warm arms wrap around his middle. 

Steve smiles into the pan of eggs, Eddie resting his head between Steve’s shoulder blades and sighing. He always takes a long time to wake up, and he’s cute the whole time doing it. 

When he’s had his fill of squeezing Steve, sleepy hands wandering around his torso, head nuzzling against the soft cotton of Steve’s t-shirt, Eddie goes to pore himself coffee. Fills it with milk and sugar before shuffling over the the kitchen table. 

He sits in their creaky wooden chairs, huddled around his steaming mug, eyes bleary and hair a messy halo around his head. Eddie blinks his big brown cow eyes so slowly, staring at nothing. 

Steve turns off the burners and watches the soft spring light fall over eddies shoulders, leaving patches of yellow over his bare skin. Warming the mottled pinks and reds. A patch of light over his thigh, a golden window on the flannel of his low slung pyjama pants. 

his scars have healed well, even with all the grafting and scarring, the doctors managed to do enough to let him survive, let his body become what it is now. he’s stronger, looks healthier than he used to, all the physical therapy and three square meals a day gave him some more definition, more colour in his cheeks. but he’s still wiry, still pale and a little gangly, able to curl up into a ball or spread out and command a whole room. 

He has new tattoos too, stretching over scar and skin. Painting him on the outside with all the wonder and creativity he has swirling in his head. They’re so a part of him, such a perfect addition. The pale tones of pink contrasted with patches of inky black. 

Steve can’t believe it sometimes. That guy he saw in the lunch halls, the one he met in the upside down. Those awful months of Eddie in the hospital. To get to see him now, have him now, this Eddie Munson. His Eddie. 

Steve just. 

Steve can’t take it. 

He steps over, cradling Eddie’s cheeks between his hands. looks down and his loves face. Awed that he gets to see Eddie like this, before all that energy hits him, before his fingers start tapping and his feet need to move, to run, to jump. Gets to see him soft, and quiet and slow. Gets to see his eyes bright and glassy and teary and tired. Gets to see the hunch of his shoulders around his coffee mug, and the curl of his toes against the linoleum. Gets him at his rockstar and his sniffles, at his post work rant and his pre weekend buzz. 

He gets to see all of him. Hard and soft. Dark and light. 

It’s magical. 

‘I love you.’ Steve says, for the hundredth, thousandth time. Kissing Eddie on the lips for the millionth, trying to infuse him with everything Steve has, all the love, all the awe. Tries to put it all there in the kiss. 

When he pulls away Eddie’s sleepy eyes look that little bit brighter, his cheekbones dusted pink. The way they do sometimes when Eddie says Steve gives him “too much attention”. Like Eddie forgets, forgets how much space he fills up in Steve’s brain, his memories, his daydreams. How he can’t look at the sky day or night without being reminded in some way of Eddie. ‘So pretty.’ Steve traces his thumbs over the flush, the tips of Eddie’s ears, fingers trailing over his jaw and scarred neck. 

He kisses Eddie’s forehead and goes to plate the eggs, goes to finish their breakfast. Goes just so he can come back, hold Eddie’s hand, watch him wake up. 

He hopes to every morning. 

For as long as Eddie with let him. 

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

tagging list: @pearynice @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

also just bc i think you might enjoy: @babydollbaron @spectrum-spectre

title from the Maggie Rodger’s song ‘That’s where I am’ (it’s rly good u should listen to it)

[abstractnaturaldisaster]

is it over now? (was it over then?)

part five

part six: with the wilt of the rose

With the success of Eddie's Steve single as his bandmates had started to call it, the label had basically told Corroded Coffin in no uncertain terms to channel that energy into the rest of their album. It wasn't that Eddie didn't like the attention his song was getting and Steve absolutely deserved it, the lying piece of shit, but it was like getting permission to write angsty music about Steve took all the fun out of it. He was fully out of inspiration of the angst variety and had taken a hard left turn into moping, feeling sorry for himself, and being one thousand percent convinced that he was going to be single for the rest of his life and die alone.

Eddie was reclining in his giant beanbag chair (his nest as Steve used to joke with him), occasionally humming lines, strumming on his guitar, and writing more and more pathetically dramatic lyrics for most of the day until he reached his limit and pulled out his phone. It wasn't like Eddie was purposefully keeping track of people in Steve's life but over the time they were together his little gaggle of gremlins wormed his way into Eddie's life too. Unfortunately when he opened his phone it was to tweets of Dustin going low key feral over Steve's new role in some indie biopic but at the same time being crazy upset that Steve would be incommunicado as Dustin so helpfully added in his tweet. The kid was such a dweeb. Eddie flicked out of twitter and opened instagram hoping that his feed would be mostly possum memes. He scrolled idly for a while seeing new tattoo ideas and of course many cute furry animals doing many silly things until suddenly he was reminded of a particular face Steve made and Eddie (although he would never admit this) searched for Steve's public profile only a little disappointed that he hadn't posted anything more recent than when the two were together.

Because Eddie may or may not be a massive masochist and can't leave well enough alone, he decides to tab over to Steve's tagged pictures to see if there is anything recent. In between several tags of Steve being unfairly good looking in whatever movie he was currently filming, Eddie was taken aback by a post that was just of Robin and Nancy. They looked a little closer than just gal pals or whatever it was the tabloids called them while speculating how they could be friends while "fighting" over Steve. So much for modern feminism.

Before Eddie got distracted enough to go through a full rant that might include a fairly long section about how Ronnie was treated differently than the rest of his bandmates, Eddie focused back on the issue at hand. Why was Nancy who he highly suspected of stealing his fucking boyfriend posing like she was getting engaged to Steve's best friend. And why did they fucking tag him it it? Robin was snarky sure but she didn't seem like that level of bitch. Eddie took a deep breath and opened the fairly lengthy caption to see:

nancywheeler Hello World! It's been a long time coming but I am so excited to publicly announce that me and Robin (@buckster) are going steady. I know I don't post a whole lot about my person life on here (seriously, the rest of the world is so much more exciting) but you've always been so supportive of my coming out and sexuality related posts as well as understanding when I needed to set a boundary between my personal life and my online persona. I've been unable to share my most recent relationship for a really long time because of the public pressure of coming out and being a "marketable asset." Steve (@sharrington) could not have been a better support during this time and took a lot of public flak to keep Robin and I safe and comfortable until we were ready to be out publicly. He always offered up his home while I was visiting and kept me company while Robin was working. I guess us bi guys have to stick together, huh? Anyways, that's all for now. And no, we aren't engaged (yet 😈)

Eddie was floored. He had spent all his time since leaving Steve's apartment feeling very holier than thou and smug about everything that happened with Steve and the success his band was experience because of it. Although if one Miss Nancy Wheeler was telling the truth (which like as a journalist Eddie thinks she has to), Steve was actually helping his platonic soulmate find love with his exgirlfriend. If Eddie hadn't already felt kind of shitty for assuming the worst about Steve, this had to take the fucking cake. Eddie was truly done for. Put a fork in him. He's the worst person ever. Fuck. He needed reinforcements.

devilededs: uhm hi friends, i think maybe i am the asshole in the whole steve situation can u come to mine?

ronnie: you saw it? i can finally give you shit about being a total drama queen?

devilededs: what do you mean? why would you not tell me if you knew it existed.

ronnie: precisely because of this vibe right now.

devilededs: okay, everyone but ronnie pls come over i need snacks and maybe some really b grade horror but you have to indulge me in my sadness.

garbear: already on the way with your emotional support jeff and frank. we'll pick up snacks.

ronnie: if you let me problem solve for you can i come for snacks? i don't think i can handle moping eddie without trying to show you its very fixable.

devilededs: YES! FIX! ME! HOW! GET OVER HERE!

Eddie flopped back into the beanbag chair and let his notebook flop out of his lap. Thankfully his friends all had keys so he could continue to rot in place until Ronnie forcibly withdrew him from his hovel.

part seven

@lololol-1234 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zombiethingy @grtwdsmwhr @dreamercec @anne-bennett-cosplayer @strawberryyyenthusiast @mensch-anthropos-human @kal-ology @ttyrussss @kristmkris @starman-jpg @wonderland-girl143-blog @child-of-cthulhu @legalmenace87 @adealwithher @practicallybegging @lunaraquaenby @stripey82 @lexyvey @goodolefashionedloverboi @mothmamhasyourlocation @mugloversonly (if you wanna be tagged in future parts feel free to comment! happy to add people)

[schoenpepper]

And If You Slipped Through My Fingers

Intro: Emotional constipation turns to emotional diarrhea.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, Ace being a dickwad, not proofread so read at your own risk, open ending ig, short af, bad words

A/N: Okaaay and that's the second request done. Struggling for ideas about that Jamil songfic might change the song idk. Whoever asked for this I hope you like it.

Masterlist

Feelings are such complicated matters.

He couldn't make sense of them at all.

Sure there was nothing but a sprinkling of superiority complex when he first met you (powerless, magicless little human that you are), but then that chandelier thing happened and it all went rolling (downhill or uphill, he still hasn't decided). Ace was nothing if not flexible, though. He went the ways the waves did when it came to you, even though you seemed to have just the perfect knack for getting into trouble. But lately...you've been different.

His super very platonic bond with you is shifting in your hands, all the lines blurred together and tied into a braid by your deft fingers. Suddenly, you're a little more needy. You're hanging off Ace like a feral cat, claws sunk into his arms. He hears his name from your lips no he wasn't staring and he realizes you've begun to see him as some sort of reliable figure in your life. You're in danger, and the first thing you do is reach for him.

But what can he even do for you?

He's smart, but he's no Riddle or Azul. He can fight, but he's not like Leona or Vil. He's resourceful, but he can't beat Jamil, and his magic doesn't hold a candle to your Tsunotarou.

What is he to you?

And now you're gravitating towards him like the moon orbiting his planet—but he thinks the pull might be too strong and you'll just crash right into him. Always on call, circling him like a shark in the water. He's not afraid of you. He's not afraid of the problems you bring with you. But what if one day, you reach out to him, and he can't hold your hand? What if the next time trouble finds you, he can't pull you out of the mud anymore? What if, when you stare at him with those lovely eyes and plead for him to stay, he's still forcibly pulled away by all the other planets that are in your orbit?

You're not his moon. You're the sun that everyone longs for.

He's not afraid of anything. But there's this inkling of fear swirling within him, curling around his torso and squeezing the life out of him.

He's scared of you leaving.

He's scared of you staying.

He doesn't know what to do.

Why not choose someone else?

Somehow, at some point, the place next to him is your seat. You're always by his side with one arm wrapped around his shoulder or your hand holding his. It's so suspiciously close in a way that friends shouldn't be. At 3 am, under his covers, he's texting the night away with you while his roommates are asleep. You're at every corner and every turn. You're at every classroom and in the cafeteria and Riddle invited you to every unbirthday party. And you sit next to him and smile. You smile that stupid smile that makes his heart beat so fast in his chest he has to choke down his tea to calm himself. You're in the mirror when he looks, but no, you couldn't be. It's just...Ace.

He wants to be alone for a while. He needs to think.

Why are you everywhere?

[nomagicnolyf: aceeeeee come over lets play super stario squish sisters]

[aceUNOone: noooo im sleeping]

[nomagicnolyf: bish ur typing]

He puts his phone aside and closes his eyes. What do you want from him? Why are you always bothering (yes, bothering) him? Why not bother Deuce, Epel, Sebek, Ortho, or Jack? Or anyone in your roster of friends in the higher years? They'd love to hang out with you, don't you know they practically fight each other just for a sliver of your time? Why him, then? There's a knock on the door. He gets up with a groan to open it.

"What do you want?"

It's you, and he tries to push down the chaotic magma of feelings bubbling in his chest. He's just been too confused lately. You don't deserve its outburst.

"Sorry, I just wanted to hang out with you."

"Didn't we hang out yesterday?"

"But I want to hang out today too."

He can't stop himself. The lava, it boils over and the words spill out his mouth faster than he can think. You don't deserve its outburst but fuck your timing was really off, you know?

"Well I don't want to hang out with you. You're always clinging onto me, aren't you tired of being such a burden? It's annoying, Y/N, you're getting real annoying and every single time you show up something is wrong and something needs to be done." It's not true, he knows it's not true, but he doesn't even know what he's saying anymore.

"Sevens, can't you handle your shit by yourself? Do you seriously still need to be babied every time? Act like an adult and deal with your problems like the rest of us. Alone."

...What?

When it's erupted and done, the words come flying back to him like a boomerang made out of razor blades. No, he doesn't think any of those things. He likes helping you. He likes defending you, he likes fighting for you and— oh.

Oh, he likes you. So that's why he's been in such a mess mentally.

It's too bad you're already gone by the time he's dealt with his feelings.

[anotherferalrat]

GUYS.

I have discovered a new orv fic concept.

And I am actively foaming at the mouth.

So like- Idol!Kim Dokja right? A classic, makes sense, I wouldn't say it's anything too revolutionary. I love a good 'secretly I was an Idol' AU. But what has me feral???

All his songs were secretly about YJH (with the occasional about his companions... mainly I'm thinking he had a couple for SYS bc my poor baby). Just think of the possibilities with me for a sec:

The difference in the ways he writes about each round (999 has the best love song if what I've gathered from osmosis is correct)

Kimcom losing their goddamn minds trying to connect the image of their tired, feral leader to a bubbly teen idol

The kids determined to listen to all his music and fighting over who's the bigger stan

I just imagine there's a world where LJH was a diehard fan and so KDJ treats her like those rabid fans (bc he def has a favorite child... and she is low on the list I'm afraid)

Just in general, him having secret fans in Kimcom. YSA wasn't a huge fan but she had a couple favorite songs. HSY would rather die than admit it but she loved his music and her writing playlist was like 90% of his music. YJH was also a frequent listener though he'd claim it was due to his sister (A certified KDJ stan)

Similarly... IMAGINE KIMCOM FINDS OUT AFTER SOME KIND OF POST CANON NOVEL REVEAL I haven't finished so I don't know if there's an actual reveal Just envision YJH's eye twitching violently as the crew tries to figure out which songs are about which person/YJH round while KDJ actively tries to die in the background. Secretive Plotter and Uriel are dying... for very different reasons

I just love me a good pining loser<3

[roosterbruiser]

I am way, way early for sleepover day butttt this popped into my head and I’m curious to see what you can do with “This is my wife, Dr. Bradshaw. She’s been accused of stirring the pot before.”

(I, an aspiring PhD, am FERAL for being called doctor. I’m also curious what Dr. Bradshaw did. If it doesn’t spark inspo, are you studying anything? What was your favorite subject in school?)

standing at the bar, a smile tugging on your lips as the suns sinks into the ocean just outside, you sigh a happy sigh. you're off work for the next several days--which rarely happens--and that means you can spend every waking moment with your hunk of a husband.

he's currently losing a game of pool to Phoenix, who's tickled pink that you're here so Bradley won't pout all night, and stealing glances at you whenever he can chance it.

God, does he look good, too--that dumb Hawaiian shirt that really must have some sort of magic in it, a tight white t-shirt, blue jeans. he's tan and happy and warm and everything in the world that you love. and you're fairly certain that isn't just the Long Island iced teas talking. being married for the past three years hasn't really changed much at all for the two of you--you still daydream about him like a ditzy teenager. and he still gets flustered when you catch his gaze and wink--it's one of the things you love most about him; how easy you can make him blush.

"isn't he handsome?" you ask out loud to no one in particular--and you're fairly certain that it is because of the Long Island iced teas.

Jake Seresin happens to be standing beside you, waiting for Penny to finish up with another customer so he can get his first whiskey sour of the night, and he glances at you when he hears the dreamy lilt in your tone.

shit--you're hot. he doesn't know how he didn't notice you here before. for a quick minute, he racks his brain, trying to place you. he knows you're familiar--maybe a past fling or a match on tinder--but nothing's calling out to him.

he gives you a once-over, a sly one, and notices a few things: the way your breasts strain against the fabric of your tee shirt, the gloss over your eyes, the way those jeans hug your hips, and a wedding ring.

he follows your gaze to Bradley, who's gaping as Phoenix absolutely demolishes him in pool without so much as breaking a sweat, and frowns.

"eh," Jake answers, shrugging. he turns and catches your gaze, his brows slightly knit. "he's married, anyway."

oh. you recognize this guy from all of Bradley's stories--this is Jake. Hangman. you two seem to always just miss each other: you're out of town when he comes over for a football game, you're working at the hospital when he's on base, you're at the grocery store when he FaceTimes Bradley.

for a moment, you maintain his gaze, waiting for him to place you. but he's just staring at you blankly.

"married, huh?" you ask softly, leaning in closer to Jake. you make a show of looking all around Bradley and Jake's brows knit even further--you're brash for a married woman looking at a married man. "I don't see a wife?"

Jake scoffs softly, an incredulous smile tugging on his lips. surely you're joking. but then he keeps watching you eye fuck Bradley, teeth sunken into your lower lip, and he automatically straightens his spine.

"you're married too," Jake points out, nodding to your ring finger. he crosses his arms over his chest. "how'd your husband feel knowing you're eyeing a Navyman?"

"ooh," you sing-song, batting your lashes. "he's a man in uniform, too, huh?"

Christ. you're less shameless than him.

"and married," Jake repeats, frowning a bit now. "you know, like you. married. holy matrimony and all that. union. like, legally bound."

stifling a laugh, you give a very blasé shrug of your shoulders and bite your lip.

"all the good ones are taken," you say, wrinkling your nose. "don't you think I deserve a little fun?"

Jake fully scoffs now, aghast at your behavior. it takes everything in your body not to break character and introduce yourself. but you wanna see how far you can take this: you've heard stories about Jake. a shameless, over-confident creature who'll turn taken women into single women with a bat of his long lashes. and you've got him gaping at you like you're some sort of wild animal.

but before he can say anything else, Bradley finally wanders up behind you, pressing a few kisses to your cheek as he wraps his arms around your waist.

and that is about all Jake can take.

"listen, man, I don't know your wife but I'm sure she wouldn't be too happy about you kissing up on another married woman!" Jake says, hands on his hips. he's never been more disappointed in Bradley before. he feels like he's in the fucking Twilight Zone. Bradley "I Never Shut Up About My Hot Wife" Bradshaw shacking up with some stranger at the bar while his wife probably busts her ass at the hospital? no fucking way. "and I ain't gonna hold my tongue about it--I'll tell you that now."

when Bradley laughs, Jake just blinks at him. but then you're laughing, too, patting Bradley's chest.

"we almost had him!" you tell Bradley, shoving him playfully. "that vein in his forehead was starting to throb!"

instinctively, Jake slides a finger across his forehead. huh. maybe it was. how the fuck would you know about that vein, though?

"Jake," Bradley says with a grin. "this is my wife--Dr. Bradshaw. she's known to occasionally stir the pot."

beaming at a still-flustered Jake, you extend your left hand.

"pleasure's all mine."

[starry-bi-sky]

ive been hesitating to ask this bc youve been on a roll with the clone^2au (which i am frothing over) but could i poke you for some childhood friend au? bc GOD i wanna see how danny reacts to reuniting w jason or how the rest of the batfam react to learning jason never told danny of his resurrection or wondering if dannys gonna put jokers dead body on a display/offering to jasons grave. i havent been normal about this since i first read it and was wondering. thank you for your writing.

RAAAAHHHH DON'T BE HESITANT I AM JUST AS FERAL OVER MY CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AU AS I AM WITH CLONE^2 I AM DELIGHTED BY THIS. Like.,,,, i literally love them,,, so much. I can't listen to The Crane Wives without thinking of them.

(which is my fault - the ao3 fic of them has literally only crane wives lyrics for each chapter title and summary (posted AND the ones not written) so of course im gonna associate with them.)

(if you wanna listen to some of their songs while thinking of cfau here are my recommendations: "Once & for All", "Here I Am", "Hollow Moon" is a Danny AND Jason song to me, this would be my go-to song for an animatic of CFAU if i had the skills for it. "Tongues and Teeth", "Curses" and "take me to war" is a heavy cfau danny song to me, and of course, "the moon will sing")

Like they're BEST friends dude, they're two sides of the same coin and when they were kids they would do this thing where their 'fingers crossed'/'double-crossed' was them hooking their index fingers in the fingers crossed gesture.

and i'm actually currently rewriting my original post into a more fic-like format, and when I'm done I'll post it on here under the cfau tag - with the original post still in tact. But its,,, gonna be so long dude,,,, the original behemoth was just over 9000 words,,, and I've written 3k words already of the new one and we haven't even reached Jason and Danny reuniting at the gala yet,,, i need to get back to that,,,

and then to answer your questions!! god im almost hesitant to answer because i dont wanna spoil the little fic i had planned for it but also like,, its not like im gonna spoil everything, right? and answering the questions isnt the same as writing the scene down so!!

i love danny and jason's reuniting, like i've thought about it SO much and I've thought about it happening after Danny kills the Joker. I know the reveal could have been before that, and it could have been equally just as dramatic but like??? Thematically, doing it after danny kills the joker is SO good. To me at least.

Because like?? Jason's been in somewhat denial about danny's plan to kill the joker for months. ever since danny told him that he wanted to at the gala. And from Jason's pov its not even technically a plan. He sees his best friend for the first time after five years and his best friend still isn't over his death. He hasn't stepped foot in Gotham since his funeral and now suddenly he's here.

And he's still so full of grief over his death that he tells a masked vigilante that he's going to kill the guy that did it, who lives in said masked vigilante's city. And danny's got that look in his eyes that Jason knows so well that means he's being serious. And yet he still doesn't know if he should believe him or not.

And then he does. Danny kills him. And Jason can't fucking believe it. And when he goes and sees Danny, Danny's hands are still covered in blood. And that reunion? God like a fucking firework show. Danny's so fucking angry, and pissed, and hurt, and so goddamn overjoyed that he's alive and here that he sends them both to the ground, and if he doesn't calm down he's gonna take out the power in a five block radius.

there's just so, so much yelling on Danny's end. And then so much crying, first from Danny and then them both. because god, you're alive. you're here. i've missed you so much. i'm never letting you out of my sights again.

and Joker's death! God I don't want to actually say too much about that, but the way I have it set up thematically makes me actually not want danny to take any part of the joker with him as an offering. and he may actually forego that particular ghost etiquette and offer something else as an offering to Jason in substitute to not bringing him the Joker's heart/head/ritualistic body part.

Because you know what the last thing a man whose been spending the last two decades of his life building himself up to be larger than life would want? A death that's unremarkable. :) and that's all i'll put on the matter for now.

and the batfam!! they technically already know that jason hasn't told danny he was resurrected, and plenty of them have mixed feelings on them. largely bruce and dick i think, considering they saw firsthand how close jason and danny were when they were kids.

Dick was honestly surprised at first when he found out that Jason hadn't told Danny he was alive - and on one hand he understands the reasoning for it, and on the other hand he isn't sure if it was such a good idea. Especially after he sees Danny again after he arrives back in Gotham and sees just how badly Jason's death was still affecting him. But it's not like he's going to try and convince Jason to tell him - he can make his own choices, even if Dick has questions about them.

Bruce has much the same thoughts as Dick, so there's not really much to add here other than he might bring it up once or twice to Jason like, vaguely. And then immediately drops it when Jason shuts him down. He might actually somewhat...?? prefer that Jason hasn't told Danny because that raises a lot of questions and could jeopardize their identities. However, again, Jason can make his own choices and there's not much Bruce can do about it other than disapprove from afar.

Tim who knew of Danny from stalking the Wayne family shares similars sentiments of being surprised that Jason didn't tell Danny, but again, yeah, understands the thought process to some extent. Doesn't bring it up ever.

Everyone else who hadn't seen firsthand how close Danny and Jason are don't really have much opinion on it -- Jason didn't tell his best friend he was alive, great, he also didn't tell them either so it's not like its that much of a surprise. It would've been more of a surprise to them if Jason had told Danny before he told Bruce and co. Damian may make a comment or two about Jason not telling Danny, but its not about how he can't believe he didn't tell him or anything like it.

[alwaysonthemend]

Author's Note: This fic is inspired by a conversation I had with @jakeyt and I am delighted to share some dom Jake with you all. The entire premise of this fic is all from @jakeyt 's beautiful mind so you all have her to thank for this. Sorry for any typos/mistakes

Warnings: Fem!reader, rough sex, unprotected sex, p in v sex, pussy slapping (no I'm not ashamed) extreme edging, thoughts of using safe word. 18+ only MINORS DNI

Word Count: 4189

----------------

He’s like a different person up there on stage. Gone is the stoicism. Gone is the quiet. Up there, he’s nothing less than a rock god – shredding on his guitar and dripping with talent and sex. He’s a master of his craft. And the thing is, he knows that he is. He knows what he’s doing – causing so many thousands of thighs to clench and hearts to race. And he gets off on it. 

This was something that you discovered quickly after beginning your relationship with Jake. You’d always assumed that he was quiet – bashful even at times. But all that goes away the moment he steps foot in front of a crowd. Fleeting glances towards the big screen displaying his lewd movements and faces to thousands proves to you that he knows (and enjoys) what he’s doing. 

You’d be a liar if you said you don’t enjoy it too. Seeing him so confident, so sure in his abilities and sex appeal, sets a fire between your legs like nothing else. 

Tonight is a little different though. When normally before a show he’s touchy and excited – pressing eager kisses to your lips and eyes sparkling with excitement... tonight had been nothing but stony silence before he went out. You’d been arguing all day – something petty and childish that the both of you had blown way out of proportion, trading passive aggressive remarks and glances all day. You’re not even sure how it started at this point. 

And now you could see first hand how all that frustration had built up inside of him. He’s acting feral up there and the crowd is going absolutely insane. 

From your place on side stage, you can clearly see that he’s working himself up as he plays – something that he so often does. Tiny little shifts of his hips against the guitar… never enough to draw suspicion. But you know. You know him. And you know what his face looks like when he’s turned on. 

There isn’t much longer left of the show and you can tell that he’s wound tight as a drum. His hair, once brushed and glossy, now lies stringy and messy the way it is after the two of you fuck. His face and chest are flushed and beads of sweat drip down his face onto his chest and stomach. He’s sweat completely through his jacket and fuck that just turns you on even more. He’s giving it all he’s got – leaving everything out on that stage. 

Just as his second to last solo ends, his brows furrow and he glances back towards his tech. You squint your eyes, trying to see what’s the matter. He yells something to the tech but you can’t hear anything over Danny’s drums. 

Finally you see what the problem is after he yanks his guitar strap over his head, a singular guitar string swinging helplessly beneath it. He snapped a string. 

Unconsciously, your thighs squeeze together again. He’s going to be pissed. You can see it on his face already. And that means trouble for you… the most delicious type of trouble. 

As if sensing your arousal, Jake’s eyes snap to you and track the movement. As his eyes pan upwards to meet yours, the look that he gives you is just nasty. Unbridled anger and lust all mixed together in a dangerous cocktail. 

His tech brings him his number two in seconds and he looks away, able to carry on as if nothing happened – you doubt many in the crowd even noticed. But Jake is pissed. You can see it in his face and in the way he tears into the next song with reckless abandon. 

And now, you can see that he’s hard in his pants. His thrusts into his guitar are more bold, sliding his length against the poor instrument. Anger, you’ve found, so often bleeds into desperate arousal for Jake. He’s always pent up after a show – getting off on the way he’s affecting his fans. But anger morphs into something damn near animalistic in your normally sweet boyfriend. And as much as you hate for things to go wrong for him, you can’t help the excitement thrumming through your body at the thought of what’s to come.

-⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️-

He meets you in the green room afterwards. He’s drenched in sweat and practically seething as he enters the room to find you waiting for him. His eyes pin you to the spot, rendering you unable to do anything but stand there and wait for him to tell you what he wants. Fear and lust swirl around inside you as you wait for him to speak. 

He shifts on his feet, subtly adjusting himself in his pants. 

“Go back to the hotel and wait for me.” His voice is low and cold – sharp as he directs you. 

“W-what?” That takes you off guard. You’ve fucked in dressing rooms, green rooms, and bathrooms after shows. And when you do go back to your hotel room (which isn’t often as he can rarely wait that long) he goes with you. This is uncharted territory, 

“I said,” he bites out venomously, “go back to the hotel and wait.”

You nod, ungluing your feet from the floor and slowly making your way to the door. His eyes follow you, not moving away from you once as you slide past him out into the hallway. He makes no move to follow you as you walk away and by the time you’ve left the venue and gotten in an Uber to take you back, confusion has replaced the need that you’d been feeling all day.

When you finally arrive, you trudge your way to the elevator and hit the button, thoughts anxiously racing as you try and wrack your brains to figure out what made him act so differently tonight. Shaking your head from your thoughts, you exit the elevator and walk to your door. You pull out your key card and step inside, immediately toeing off your shoes and tossing your purse and jacket onto your bedside table. 

You’re not sure what to do. He’d given you no indication as to how long he’d be and you don’t want to piss him off any more than he already is. You strip from your clothes and change into nothing but an old t-shirt of Jake’s and slip under the covers, content to wait for his return.  

Minutes turn into an hour. 

That hour turns into two. 

And two turns into two and a half and you're worried that he’s not going to come back at all. He’d been pent up, sure. But maybe he was angrier at you than you had thought. That plus his guitar string snapping probably had him alight with rage. 

Sighing, you reach over and turn off the light and sink further into the covers, allowing your tiredness and defeat to pull you into sleep. 

-⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️-

The lamp turning on drags you back into consciousness. You sit up, rubbing your eyes and mumbling out a confused noise as you try and figure out what’s going on. 

As the spiderwebs leave your sleep-addled brain, you finally see Jake standing next to the bed. His suit is gone and he’s wearing nothing but tight black boxers. His face is angry and determined, looking down at you in thinly veiled frustration and lust. 

“Jake?" You ask, sitting up further in the bed. “Where the fuck were you? I was worried!” You scold him, your own frustration bleeding into your tone. 

“So worried you fell asleep?” He fires back in a snarky tone. 

You roll your eyes and go to lay back down but he grabs your wrist and yanks you back upwards harshly. 

“Jake!” You yell, taken aback by his roughness with you. 

“That’s not my name tonight, angel.” He says darkly, eyes glittering in the dim lamplight. “Understand?” 

“Yes sir.” You squeak out. You sweep your eyes downward and finally see what lays clenched in his other hand. 

A guitar string. 

Your eyes widen at the sight and your heart begins to pound. He notices the line of your gaze and smirks. 

“My two most beloved things in the world decided to piss me the fuck off tonight.” He starts, releasing your wrist and delicately caressing your cheek with his fingertips. “Which means that I have to ask you a very important question.” He hedges, hooking your chin with his index finger and turning your face upwards towards him. 

“What’s your question?” You ask in a tiny voice, afraid to push him any further than he already is. 

“Do you remember your safe word, angel?” 

“Gibson, sir.” 

“Good girl. Take your shirt off.”

You concede, ripping the material over and off your head and tossing it somewhere in the room. 

Jake takes another step towards the bed and grabs your wrists, effortlessly manhandling them so that your arms are above your head. 

“Hold still.” He tells you, and you obediently keep your arms where he put them as he pulls his hand away. 

Taking the guitar string, Jake loops it around both your wrists in a figure eight, cinching the cord tightly so that your wrists are pressed together. 

“Too tight?” 

You shake your head, slick beginning to flood between your thighs at the feeling of being bound. Jake loops the other end of the string around the headboard and pulls, causing the muscles in your arms to extend completely as he ties the string. He takes a step back to survey his work. The sight of you, arms completely extended and bound above your head, draws a groan from between his plush lips. 

“I’ve got one rule for you tonight, angel.” He says, walking around the bed and making his way to his suitcase. He unzips it and begins rifling through his things. “You don’t get to cum until I say. If I decide that you’ve earned it.”

You nod again and watch as he finds what he’s looking for. The quietest of gasps escapes you as he holds up his prize. He clicks the button and your vibrator hums to life. You thought you’d concealed it from him. The last time you’d come along on tour with him, he’d taken a particular liking to teasing you with it, and you’d hidden it in the hopes that he’d forget about it. Clearly, you’d been very mistaken. 

“Thought you hid this from me didn’t you?” He asks, stalking back towards the bed like a lion seeking out its prey. You squirm, anticipation filling you. 

“How did-”

“Did I find it?” He interrupts, crawling into the bed and settling himself between your legs. “You seem to forget..” He slides the vibrating toy up your inner thigh, building up the tension within you. “I know you too well, sweet girl. And I’m not letting you get off that easily.”

Without warning, he presses the toy onto your throbbing clit and the sudden sensation has you arching up off the bed and moaning loudly. 

“Fuck!” You cry, eyes screwing shut at the overwhelming sensation. 

Mercilessly, Jake begins to circle your clit with the vibrator, pressing into your bundle of nerves with relentless focus and attention. 

“All fucking day you’ve been testing my patience.” His voice is low – almost a growl, as he speaks to you. “It’s like you enjoy pushing my buttons any chance you get.” 

“You were being dramatic.” You manage to say between moans, and Jake’s eyes blaze with anger as he presses the toy harder into your clit. 

“That’s how you wanna play, angel?”

You don’t answer, overwhelmed by the white hot pleasure coursing through you. 

“Answer.” He tells you, circling the toy faster. 

You can’t. The feeling of the vibrations on your clit as he circles the toy is too much for your body to handle and any coherent thoughts have long since flown out the window. You open your mouth – to answer his question or to tell him that you’re close, you’re not sure. But as soon as you open your mouth to speak, a loud high-pitched cry escapes you instead. You’re on the edge, so so close to falling over. You need it… badly. You’ve been wanting it all day. Deciding to test your luck, you stay silent as you reach the crest of orgasm. 

Crack

The sting between your legs makes a loud, pornographic moan bubble up from your throat as Jake slaps his palm against your throbbing cunt. He didn’t slap you overly hard, but hard enough to leave you dazed. You stare at him, mouth hung open in shock. 

“You think I can’t tell when you’re about to cum?” Jake’s voice is ice cold and dangerous, causing you to gulp as he glares at you. “Remember, angel: I know you. And I told you not to cum without me telling you to.” 

“I’m sorry, sir.” You say meekly. And you are. The look in his eye is damn near sinister. 

“Not good enough.” He says, tossing the toy to the side. 

You can tell by the look on his face and the sound of his voice that you’ve really fucked up now, and you’re quick to try and remedy the situation. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Jake.” The apologies spew from your lips like prayers and you barely even register what you’re saying – your second mistake of the night. 

“Strike two.” 

Crack 

This time, the blow is a little harder, causing tears to prick the corners of your eyes. 

“That’s not my name tonight, as I already told you earlier.” He shakes his head, and you could cry at the disappointment covering his face. Directing his attention downwards, Jake eyes the mess between your thighs. “You like this, don’t you? When I treat you like the little whore that you are?”

“Yes sir, I do.” You whine, wriggling your hips in the hopes that it will entice him to give you what you want. 

“Look at you.” He swipes the pad of his finger through your dripping folds, humming appreciatively. “Your pussy is dripping.” 

“It’s all for you, sir.” You pant, shoulders beginning to ache after being suspended for so long. 

“You’re my little whore, aren’t you?” 

You nod your head vigorously. 

“I wanna spoil this pretty pink pussy so badly.” He says with sadness, as if he really is disheartened that he has to punish you. “But you’ve been such a terrible girl all day long, haven’t you?”

You don’t glorify him with an answer as one of his long, talented fingers finally enters you. He curls it upwards, brushing your g-spot and making you moan loudly. 

“You’re squeezing my fingers so tightly.” He tells you, adding another finger and curling it along with the other. 

You moan louder as he picks up his pace, fucking you with his fingers in the way that only he can. It’s like liquid fire is coursing through your veins – your entire world shrinking down to nothing but him and his fingers. His thumb presses into your clit and begins to rub tight circles, thrusting your body quickly back to the edge. 

“Sir...” You pant breathlessly, “I’m close.” 

“Already?” The smugness in his voice is obvious and the smile that graces his lips is cocky. He’s an arrogant little shit when it comes to how good he is with his fingers. 

“Such a shame.” He adds nonchalantly, pulling his fingers from you and wiping them on the sheets. 

You toss your head back and uselessly tug on your restraints. You’re wound so tight you feel like you could explode. 

“You’re shaking. Something wrong?” Jake asks, grinning from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas morning. 

“Jake- sir, please.” 

“Almost.” He says, shrugging his shoulders. “But not quite yet.” 

Without warning, Jake thrusts his fingers back into you, curling them deliciously and brushing your sweet spot with each movement. He’s watching your face, studying the way your expressions shift and  contort with each movement of his fingers. The wet sounds accompanying each movement are almost comically pornographic, but you’re far too gone to really notice. 

Without letting up with his fingers, Jake lowers his body down so that he’s resting his torso on the mattress between your legs. As soon as his hips touch the bed, he lets out a groan – no doubt enjoying the pressure on his cock. He’s edging himself too, you realize. Jake gets off on watching you, and you’re giving him the show of a lifetime with the way you’re moaning and crying with reckless abandon. 

Jake leans in and wraps his lips around your throbbing clit, suckling and swirling his tongue as his fingers continue to fuck into you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You wail, jerking your bound wrists and thrashing your head from side to side. 

He hums a laugh into your heat and the vibration is almost too much. 

“Fuck, stop! Please stop. I can’t!” 

Once again, Jake pulls away and allows you a moment to catch your breath. 

“Had enough yet?” Jake asks with a shit eating grin. “That’s how many orgasms that you haven’t gotten to have?”

“Three, sir.” Your voice is coarse and shaky, strained from the moans that he’s been pulling from you. You’re sweaty and exhausted, and the desperation and need to cum is reaching the point of being unbearable. 

“That’s right. Three orgasms that you could have had if you hadn’t been so terrible today. The first one,” he mutters while picking up the vibrator again, “was for our argument earlier. The second,” he clicks the button and the toy whirs to life again, “for your snarky little comments you’ve been throwing at me all day.” The toy hovers dangerously close to your clit, just barely not touching and you fight to hold still as your body wants to recoil from the inevitable overwhelming sensation. “Do you know what the third one is for?” 

You shake your head, focus still glued to how close the vibrator is to your swollen, abused clit. 

“No.” 

“You sure?” Jake asks, finally pressing the toy into you. 

You let out an agonized scream at the feeling. You’ve been on edge so long and the pleasure from earlier has morphed into a red hot need – dangerously close to bleeding into more pain than pleasure. 

“Your guitar string snapping?” You can barely get your mouth to form the words and you’re quickly nearing a threshold of desperation that you’ve never entered before. 

“Nope.” He says, popping the ‘p’ as he says the word. 

“Fuck I don’t know! I don’t know!” You yell, clenching your teeth as your legs begin to shake.

“Yes you do. Think back. And remember,” he presses the toy even harder and you’re beginning to debate whether or not you need to use your safeword. “I. Know. You.” 

You need to cum so badly and real tears are starting to stream down your face. It’s too much and not enough and the room is starting to turn black around the edges as you finally concede, the confession slipping past your lips in a broken, tiny little voice. 

“I made you mad on purpose.” 

Immediately, he brings the toy away from your cunt and clicks it off. 

“I know, angel.” He says, placing the toy on the mattress next to you and rubbing his palms up your thighs. “But I want to hear you say it again.”

“I made you mad on purpose.” You repeat, body thrumming with pent up lust and adrenalin. 

“Why did you piss me off on purpose, baby?” He asks, voice saccharine and deceivingly soft. 

“Because you’re so-” You cut yourself off, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. 

“Tell me.” He demands, digging his fingers into the plush skin of your thigh. 

“Because you’re sexy when you’re mad. And I wanted you to fuck me.” You finally spit out, shame flooding your body as you finally admit to having started this whole thing for the sake of getting a good fuck. It’s childish. You know it is. But sometimes the itch becomes so unbearable that you have to try and get it satisfied somehow. And making Jake angry is the quickest way to get what you want. 

Sensing your shift in mood, Jake smooths his palms over your thighs again, gently tracing circles into your skin with his calloused fingertips. 

“You know you can just ask, baby. You don’t have to piss me off to get it hard like this.” 

Emboldened by his comforting words, you give him the brattiest little smirk that you can muster. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

And just like, he slips back into his role. 

“What am I gonna do with you, angel?” He asks, reaching up to untie the guitar string from your wrists and the headboard. “Get on your fucking knees.” 

You scramble to comply, rising as quickly as you can despite your body’s protests, and settle onto your knees

“Hands behind your back.” He demands. 

You whine at his request but do it anyway. 

“Wanna touch you.” The sentence sounds desperate and needy as it leaves your mouth, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You need to cum. More than you ever had before and at this point you’ll do anything to get it. 

“Too bad.” He says, binding your wrists again so that they’re stuck behind your back. 

Jake yanks his boxers down and you can’t help but to stare as you finally get to see his cock for the first time tonight. He looks so hard – the skin red and shiny, and his tip glistens with precum. 

“You cum after me, understand?”

“Yes, sir.” 

He presses his palm into the middle of your back and pushes, effectively knocking you face first into the mattress. He grips your hips and yanks upwards, pressing your face farther into the mattress while your ass sticks up in the air. 

Finally, he sinks his length into you all the way to the hilt and the both of you moan loudly at the feeling.

“Fuck, you feel good.” He groans as he uses both hands to grip your ass in a bruising hold. 

Immediately, he’s slamming into you with so much force it’s all you can do to just lay there and take it. His groans are rough and deep and his hips slam into your thighs hard. Using his grip on you, he pulls your hips back to meet his thrusts, and the feeling is so overwhelmingly good and your mind is fogged over with your need for him. 

This was what you wanted. The pleasure that only he can give you. No man has ever been able to make you feel the way Jake makes you feel and you’re desperate for him all the damn time. 

With each pound of his hips, you let out a moan – so high-pitched and loud that you’d probably be embarrassed if you weren’t so lost to the pleasure.

“Jake…” You warn, your long awaited orgasm barrelling towards you at the speed of fucking sound. 

“I know, angel. I’m so close. Fuck.” He lets go of your hip with one hand and reaches around in front of you to rub frenzied circles against your clit. 

“Oh fuck. I’m so close. Please.” His voice is wrecked, breathless and broken as he falls apart. His pace hasn’t slowed, his stamina allowing him to keep slamming into you at a speed that’s making your head spin. The sound of his pleading – the neediness of it, has you so close to cumming you can taste it. His dominant side has completely bled away – just as it always does when he’s about to cum. 

“Do it, angel. Give it to me. Oh fuck!” 

You can’t stop it now. Your orgasm slams into you like a freight train – stealing the breath from your lungs as you completely fall apart. Distantly, you can hear his own sounds of release and you can feel him spill into you but it doesn’t register. It feels like it goes on for hours – wave upon wave of pleasure washing over you and drowning you in the feeling of release that you’d been denied for so long.

Like you’re watching it happen to someone else, you become aware of Jake delicately untying your hands and rubbing where your skin had become raw. 

He turns you over onto your back before collapsing onto you – allowing his body weight to settle on top of you. 

“Fuck.” He breathes into your ear, chest heaving and heart pounding.

“Mmmm.” You hum, closing your eyes and trying to come back to earth. 

“You okay?” He asks, swiping his sweaty hair from his face. 

You just hum at first, giving him as much of a smile as you can muster. 

“Fuck yeah.” You finally answer after your brain clears from the fog a little bit. 

“You’re a mess.” He says with a giggle, taking in your fucked out expression and glassy eyess. He literally fucked you stupid. 

“You still love me, though.” 

“Yeah I do, angel.”

------

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[madsciencestudent]

Hey, for the record, while I'm over here like foaming at the mouth over Idyia and Rubra-Harenas, I don't actually think that STATISTICALLY they're the only ones like this in the whole world of Sauria.

We might not get to see it in canon- because holy fuck animation and story telling takes so much time and if background info doesn't matter too much to the stories and characters you want to tell then you're not going to put it in- but I'd totally buy there's other stories like theirs out there in Sauria. I mean like, Blue Song members who got stranded on the mainland back before the invasion and ended up making new lives there and now don't agree with the rest of the empire and feel more at home with the other Saurian races. More civilian type members of the Kindred of the Tusk who care for the injured or young and aren't meant for constant combat and have positive connections with other Saurians outside of the Kindred. Pachi-Saurians who aren't just farmers or are even sort of working their way up the Blue Song's social ranks as merchants or other fields of expertise. An Arctic Saurian who-while of course cautious and will defend themselves- opens their doors to lost travelers and is more social than the norm. Blue Song soldiers who became disillusioned with the empire (for many, many reasons but I could especially see ones who quickly realize that 1. Avi-Saurians just aren't physically as strong as the other races and can't take the same amount of damage so they've watched too many of their fellows die and 2. if the Chancellor really wanted to tame the land then why aren't they more willing to compromise and just TALK to the people already here who have managed to sort of do so?), and deserted, becoming farmers themselves or helping the more civilian members of the Tusk or becoming hunters and gathers as well. Non-military and or lower to middle class Blue Song not being very pleased with the monarchy ditching their duties to the people left back on the island to go skipping off to the more exciting main land.

Yeah, the only group I could see not being part of the mixing and not-black-and-white social world of Sauria is the Fell and that's mostly because of their feral nature. (Even then, the idea of a Fell who gets entertainment out of just observing the rest of Sauria at a distance makes me happy. They're still a Fell and more evil than anything but they're just observing and studying others and I like that.)

I think I'm just really excited and am having so much fun kicking around and sharing ideas for Idyia and Rubra-Harenas in particular is because they're more mobile characters, actually traveling throughout Sauria and getting to experience the world through them. (Also, I just like their personalities and character traits.) But I really don't think their story and circumstances are THAT unique in world. Just not entirely the norm, you know?