#i say while actually having fever

[djangari]

HOW IS THE VR 46 LIVERY WORSE THAN LAST YEAR????

What are those suits. (Like the green touches in Frankys tho) BUT WHY??? WTH.

Also congratulations to motogp for fucking up in the moment the livery is presented lmao

[stealingpotatoes]

just watched mando s3 it’s great that we TOTALLY had a whole season about din coming to grips with being mand’alor & life without grogu and about dueteragonist bo-katan coming to realise she was only trying to lead mand’alor bc of her sister not bc she thought she was the best leader. and the whole season centred around the theme of accepting who you really are even if you’re certain you’re something else and was about how heroes and leaders can come from anywhere, they don’t have to come from a special bloodline (a sorta thesis against the skywalker saga) and about the uniting power of grief and oppression. isn’t it great we had that instead of a season with no plot 

isn’t it great that there were no mando cameos in tbobf and mando season 3 started with him on a bounty, cringefailing at using the darksaber and stabbing himself but he did the job and got paid in a nubian starfighter (he wanted a razor crest but he’s injured so he doesnt argue much) which he then used to find his covert on the canyon planet. then he revealed to the armorer and paz that he had the darksaber which after some time leads to paz duelling din for the saber (without telling the others bc they dont know din has it) and din wins but its revealed he took his helmet off. he’s made apostate IN FRONT OF EVERYONE (EVERYONE!!) with only one IMPOSSIBLE chance of redemption (nobody can go to mandalore anymore!!) and has to leave and now has nothing — no child, no clan. so he does the only thing he can think to and goes to a green planet we’ve never seen before. he lands safely but still injured from his fight with Paz and not fully healed from the original injury he passes out. and the episode ends with a kid running over and telling another kid to call master skywalker

and sure episode 2 was the fanservice episode but its disney! we have to expect a marketable plushie cameo episode — except of course that didn’t mean it wasn’t plot relevant! din wakes up and we realise he’s at luke’s jedi academy and this is great n stuff we finally get to see luke in his prime teaching a whole bunch of students! and we get to see grogu happy and having fun with his kind (which makes din happy but miss his own covert). luke notices din has a saber himself (despite it being well-hidden — luke can sense it) and din admits he can’t use it and that he doesnt think it even belongs to him while luke shows him saber forms (but pretends its for his own training and not din’s bc din refuses to learn). they have a discussion and din reveals he came here bc he got kicked out and has no way to redeem himself bc there are no mines left and even then the planet’s poisonous. luke spouts some jedi stuff asking din if he’s certain and says blind certainty is the enemies of hope and progress or whatever (setting up the larger theme of identity certainty in the season). luke also points out that if they imps r there then they have to have some way of getting around the environment they caused. inspired and knowing grogu is safe here, din is ready to go redeem himself on mandalore. he says he’ll come to see grogu again and luke makes it clear that while attachments can’t get in front of duty, din is always welcome here <3 

episode 3 of course had din go to the ruins of mandalore to redeem himself, inspired by luke’s words about certainty he goes to the ruins of sundari, where he knows there was once living waters (the other option is the one surviving and imperial-controlled city, but he’s not that dumb). also bc the imps only hang around the cities so that must be where it's survivable. there’s some imperials about the edge of the city (not many) and he does have to subtly fight them but he gets spotted. he wins but he’s panicking bc during the fight his breathing system got hit but then he notices a plant growing. and he realises he’s not dying — the air isn’t poisonous anymore or whatever! so he turns off his failing life support and goes to the city. he explores the city and finds many remnants of mandalorian culture there in the small parts that survived. ash-covered murals, mostly-burnt toys, something that could have once been a palace. he finds a memorial to a duchess satine kryze and thinks huh like bo katan? (because of course the show wouldn’t ignore bo’s motivations) anyway after some slow but meaningful exploring (its quietness eerie, unlike the quietness of the previous stealth section) he manages to make his way below the city. he finds the mines, reads the inscription and then goes in. except of course its no longer shallow and he falls and he falls and he realises well fuck he’s gonna die. his life support got hit earlier and he doesnt have his jetpack he’s going to sink. but then in the darkness, a great looming eye opens and before din knows it, SOMETHING is throwing him out that sinking water. it had to have been a freak current right? he was hallucinating. surely a MYTHOSAUR didn’t just save him… those are all dead, only to return with a new age of mandalore! he shakes his head, ignores it, and collects the water with something new to bring to his people

episode 4 reintroduced us to old fan favourite bo katan in her depression girl era bc din shows up to her empty palace ready to help her take back mandalore… only to find her in a depression pit and— oh my god is she drunk??! she drops that her ppl left her bc she didn’t have the darksaber and din’s looking at the depression pit like. right. bc of the darksaber. he briefly tries to convince her to fight him for it but she’s like no you’ll throw the fight it won’t be true comba— oh no! explosion nearby bc looks like din wasn’t as careful as he thought and the imperials followed him to bo’s place so both of them have to fucking skeet outta there and bo’s home’s destroyed so din’s like hey come on let’s go to my people we can take back mandalore with them or smthn. so they head back to the covert, din reveals he’s no longer apostate and that mandalore isnt cursed it’s breathable + you can successfully walk on the surface now. this is however interrupted by a beast showing up and trying to kill some ppl. it almost kills paz’s son but din kills the beast first in his starfighter. anyway back to the conversation (now within the cave) and din’s trying to convince his clan that they can take back mandalore (with bo as leader) but none of them want to follow her or risk what few numbers they have left. dejected, din and bo make to leave again, but paz follows them out and is like ?? din you literally have the darksaber why didn’t you use it to get at least SOME of them to follow you and din’s like i don’t want people to follow me bc of a legend, if they follow me it has to be bc they want to and paz and bo r internally like wow damn. anyway paz then says he’ll always fight w din if needed bc he saved his son but if he wants the people to follow him they should try get some of the other clans to help so it looks less dangerous. so bo and din leave on their quest. also throughout this episode, we’re introduced to some random civilian in the reintegration program. its implied they worked with gideon and that they’re preparing for something, but we don’t get much more than that. 

episode 5 is the bo episode, this is where we explore her character, have her arc, and ya know really cover her motivations (bc disney would NEVER make it so her motivation is invisible unless you’d seen two other tv shows). din and bo head to where her clan is. they just want to see the clan but they end up being dragged into a b-plot about helping the local pacifist duchess (& duke). din tries to say no but bo-katan says smthn abt diplomacy. this quest initially doesn’t seem plot relevant but throughout bo opens up about her own pacifist duchess sister and she comes to realise how much of this quest has been about trying to live up to satine and not bc she thinks herself the best mand’alor. the thing she said abt diplomacy earlier, she reveals, is just a quote from her sister. anyway they’re finally able to go to bo’s old clan and she, now reinvigorated in accepting and knowing who she is and what she wants (no longer depression girl) challenges axe for leadership of the clan. she wins and in a speech is like we’re gonna retake unpoisonous mandalore by uniting the clans!! most agree but theyre like HOW are we supposed to convince the other clans? and it descends into insane yelling UNTIL a low hum and a black-white light falls over the group. silence falls. everyone looks on. high above his head, din is holding the darksaber (proudly!!) and he’s like we’ll unite them with this. but axe has to constantly be chatting shit and getting up from the floor where he got his ass whipped he’s like really???? you wanna follow him???? he doesn’t even have any mandalorian blood in him!!! and bo makes a great speech about blood doesn’t make a good leader what makes a good leader is knowing when to use your power. and then she’s like he is my mand’alor amen and kneels before him. everyone else follows and din awkwardly stands there still not fully accepting his role 

episode 6 was the great prep episode. we start with din and bo helping and getting a new tribe on their side and heading back to Concordia we realise they’ve got this HUGEEEE war camp of mandalorians!! there are so many clans with them now (except one, which din is really missing)!!!!! this episode mostly focuses on mandalorian culture and them training/ planning and din and bo trying to keep the clans from biting each other’s heads off. but this is interrupted when a small group of imperials try to pre-attack them (like they did w bo’s palace) but the mandos all manage to fight back and take them down, which then leads to a whole speech from din and bo about how mandalorians are all fighting but theyre united now in their grief and with this they can fight the empire. the b-plot of the episode comes back to that random civilian from episode 4 and whoomp turns out their plan was to BREAK MOFF GIDEON OUT OF JAIL!! shitttt!!!! oh no!! he’s back now, that’s gonna make their very decent plan to take back mandalore harder but they dont knowww (irony!)

episodes 7 and 8 were the battle of mandalore, woo! it had to be two episodes because it’s a taking whole occupied planet and not a single base, a pretty damn difficult task that definitely can’t be done by two single clans in like 40 minutes! there’s all those mini tiny bases scattered throughout the planet on the ruins (like din encountered in episode 3) AND more importantly there’s the one domed city that the imperials kept alive as their main base — which means they have to be careful, bc they can’t do any sort of aerial assault or great deal of damage to the imperials without also destroying the one surviving place for them to live. so the plan is smaller strike teams to go the bases plopped around the planet as a distraction and to stop reinforcements to the city while the main force surround the city and take it. the first city team (with din and bo) has to open up all the ports and stuff to allow the HUGE armies to get in. unfortunately this is in the main imp base in the centre of the city so they have to get there. (they’d prefer 2 strike teams but they can only spare 1) MOST of the mini-bases r meanwhile being successfully captured. the strike team gets to the centre to de-activate the port shielding n stuff and GASP! IT’S GIDEON!! FROM JAIL!! and he’s surrounded by fucking MANDO STORMTROOPERS and IN BESKAR ARMOUR oh no!! ambush!! he knew they’d have to go here to allow a full-scale assault! the small strike team at sundari also gets captured bc there were some mandotroopers there (they increased security post episode 3). episode 7 ends on a cliffhanger bc all seems lost and the strike team’s surrounded 

episode 8 starts straight off the cliffhanger and oh no they’re all gonna die gasp WHEN BAM fighting noises elsewhere, everyone’s confused, when paz’s voice crackles over din’s comm like hey bro! BC DIN’S CLAN FINALLY SHOWED UP TO HELP AND THEY WERE ABLE TO MAKE THAT SECOND STRIKE TEAM and in the confusion din & bo’s team take out the mandotroopers, gideon gets away. din and paz and the armorer come face to face and paz calls him mand’alor or smthn bc he’s also accepted it and they’re like woo let’s go now we can fight fr!! din heads to help lead the battle ig but bo’s like nah i have to end gideon for what he did to our planet. and din’s like well he’s wearing beskar armour so you’ll need this and gives her his beskar spear WHICH IS SYMBOLIC BC he’s finally giving up his other weapon and is going to solely use the darksaber!! he’s accepted who he is and is going to lead their ppl!! so yeah instead of having din fight gideon, who he already beat once, bo fights him and its incredibly cathartic. at sundari that strike team who got captured is also not looking great but MYTHOSAUR EX MACHINA COMES AND FUCKS UP THE IMPERIALS THERE (its returned!!). so big battle and gideon’s down and the darksaber DOESN’T get destroyed yay! afterwards they all vibe and they go to the forge and the armorer relights it and they proclaim din mand’alor fr and he accepts it and throne. sure he's still a BIT uneasy (mand'alor the reluctant anyone?) but he's not saying NOO now loll. yayyy!! AND THEN final scene is din returns to the jedi academy like hii thanks for ur advice u were right being blindly certain abt stuff is meh and leaves no room for hope. uh could i show grogu mandalore i promise i’ll bring him right back and it ends on din showing grogu the planet finally bc thats cute and fanservice

anyway isn’t it great this is exactly what happened, it’s all canon and definitely not the stealingpotatoes sequels canon continuity rewrite! 

[choccorin]

[varians-goggles]

the reason ive become an extreme wet cat hugo truther is because back then i was still reading on wattpad and all the 7k fics depicted varian as a shy uwu flustered boi who turned into a tomato when hugo called him a babycakes pookie pie smth smth i forgot. with hugo being a muscular alfa male. and it didn't sit right with me but i wasn't gonna hate on it obviously.

but now the truth(/hj) is reaching us and it's that hugo's a sopping boyfailure wet cat and varian literally committed more crimes than he did at 14. it has fullfilled me. the edits that blur hugo's face and add a tw at the beginning and stop putting him on this "hot badass" pedestal. he has been microwaved to hell and back in people's brains. couldn't be happier.

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

Okay everything about a Wingfeather Saga/Phineas and Ferb crossover would be hilarious. And by Wingfeather Saga I mean Wingfeather Falls because it’s even funnier.

Idk even where to start. The Wingfeather kiddos walk through a portal into Phineas and Ferb’s backyard and end up helping with whatever they’re building. Kalmar is in his element with the chaos. Janner is trying desperately to keep track of Perry so he can sketch whatever this new creature is. Leeli’s just chilling, probably hanging out with the Fireside girls and staring at Candace in concern.

Across town Artham and Fiddleford end up at Doofenshmirtz’s evil inc. where Artham discovers that Fidds and Doof know each other because Fiddleford accidentally hacked into an evil villain meeting skype call once and they just... let him keep doing it because I mean he does build giant robots that terrorize a town, has a tragic backstory and an evil laugh so I mean he’s basically one of them, he’s causing chaos it counts. Artham’s just pleased to know that Fiddleford talked to people back in the day.

Perry shows up and Artham and Fidds just fly up into the rafters to watch whatever’s going on. Artham mentions that Janner would love to see a platypus and then when the fight starts he’s like “ah. so this is how Ollister Pembrick did it”

99.9% sure Kalmar has convinced Phineas and Ferb to help him build Shacktron 2.0 which he has always wanted to do ever since Dipper showed him the picture but he never had a house he could do it with. Phineas and Ferb are more than happy to turn their house into a giant robot to help this kid fulfill his dreams. Janner’s questioning Candace over why she keeps trying to bust her brothers and when it basically just comes down to it being a compulsion for her he’s like “wow okay I mean if it was safety I’d get it but, jeeze, Kalmar thinks I’m against fun but you my friend are on another level.” Leeli is composing the episode’s musical number and then promptly directing/performing in it.

Artham flies down in the middle of Perry and Doof’s daily smackdown to give hand-to-hand combat tips. They stop and listen to him and Perry starts taking notes. Artham tells Perry to attack him to demonstrate something and Perry doesn’t land a hit once. No one’s sure why Artham’s good at defending himself from animals except Fiddleford who’s cackling up in the rafters with the knowledge that Artham lived in his world’s most deadly forests for 7ish years.

Cue giant robot walking through town with a gang of kids in it including one overexcited young king. Artham and Fiddleford get to see it right before Doof’s invention inevitably destroys/cancels it out somehow. Kal is very disappointed that he didn’t get to show his uncles this wacky invention but is thrilled when they find out they saw it anyway.

rest is under the cut because this got long

PART TWO is somehow so much more unhinged. It’s literally just Artham deciding to bring his niece and nephews along with him and Fiddleford to visit Doofenshmirtz and absolute chaos descending. Kalmar won’t stop running around pushing buttons and inadvertently setting off lasers and traps which never hit him or any of the kids. Janner is wondering how concerned he should be about safety. Doof is running around trying to stop Kalmar and probably the only one getting hit by lasers and traps. Vanessa is there and so Leeli goes over to chat with her and sees her listening to music and explains her whistleharp, “I once held back an army with this!” “an army?” “yeah! during the siege of Ban Rona. also I can summon dogs with it.” “.... what.” “I can summon dogs!” “what kind of dogs?” “all dogs! do you wanna see?” “...yes”

Leeli and Vanessa go out on the balcony and Leeli starts alternating between playing her whistleharp and dogspeak and soon every dog in the tri-state area is there. This sets off Phineas and Ferb’s adventure of the day when Isabella comes and tells them her dog is missing. At first they try and build a dog summoning device but Leeli keeps also summoning the dogs so I’m just imagining a Bohemian Rhapsody song sequence going “galileo GALILEO galileo GALILEO FIGARO MAGNIFICOOOOOOOOOO” “oh let me gooooooo NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!” that part where the dogs are turning back and forth in a street obviously torn between directions. Phineas and Ferb give up because it’s obviously not working and go to plan B which is follow the sounds the dogs are hearing and see where it leads.

Meanwhile Perry has shown up because there are lasers going off everywhere and all the dogs have been pied-pipered there. He just lands on the balcony next to the girls and stares wide eyed at the chaos. Leeli looks at him like, “ooooh look, I summoned a platypus too!” “oh that’s just Perry, he’s my dad’s nemesis.” “hi Perry! you should go find my brother Janner he’ll love that.”

I think Artham and Fiddleford are just sitting off to the side observing the chaos. Artham is cheerfully petting dogs. Fiddleford is fixing all the inators as they break just for funsies. At least sixteen things are on fire. Janner has discovered Perry’s here and is happily sketching him again, with a hat this time and the clarification “platypus (secret agent)”. Doofenshmirtz is still in the background trying and failing to catch Kalmar who is having the time of his life.

There is a knock on the door and it is the boys and Isabella. Leeli answered and when they ask about Isabella’s dog she happily summons it with dogspeak. This is also when they go “oh there you are Perry” and he’s just chilling in a sea of dogs for no reason.

PART THREE is just Perry’s secret agency freaking out about how Leeli can straight up summon dogs and talking about how great that would be for them if they could get her to work for them so Perry has to find her. Luckily Leeli and her brothers are visiting again so he gets her and brings her down to his secret hideout. What follows is Major Monogram trying to convince this 10-11 year old to join a secret agency to train dogs and Leeli just like “you had me at ‘train dogs’” but then being the granddaughter of a pirate kicks in and she’s like “what’s in it for me?” and while Monogram and Carl try (and fail) to figure out what preteen girls like, Leeli mentally puts together a list of demands.

“Okay, first, I want a hat like Perry’s.” “Done.” “Second I want to go with Perry on one of his missions so I can ask Dr. Doofenshmirtz for one of his inventions and take it home for Kalmar.” “... W H Y.” “because he didn’t get to ask last time! he was too excited and hyped up on sugar!” “.... alright, fine.” *Leeli squees*

What follows is just a montage of Leeli training dogs while wearing a little secret agent hat. Then Perry has to chaperone her on one of his missions (he tries to open the door for her but Leeli’s like “I got it” and bangs it down with her crutch “they don’t call me lizardkicker and batwhacker for nothing!” Perry has no idea what that means but he’s a little afraid of her now).

Leeli walks in somehow avoiding any traps but Perry doesn’t even though he directly follows her, and she just trots up to Doof like, “Hi Dr. Doofenshmirtz Perry brought me here so I could ask if I could get one of your inventions for Kalmar.” and Doof’s just staring at her like “why are you using a little girl to confuse me Perry the platypus” Leeli looks back and forth between them a couple times and then is like, “oh right you have to do your fighting thing, okay, go ahead I’ll wait.” and sits politely off to the side waiting for them to have their daily confrontation. And they’re both just like “.....”

They stare at her for long enough that she’s just like, “well okay Perry if you won’t stop him I guess I will” and just. whacks Doofenshmirtz with her crutch. he starts yelling at her like “oh that’s no fair, what am I supposed to do, beat up a little girl?!”

And Leeli, who has recently read The Hobbit, continues whacking him while yelling, “I’m not a little girl! I am the lizardkicker of Glipwood, batwhacker of Ban Rona! I am the Song Maiden of the Shining Isle of Anniera and granddaughter of Podo Helmer! And now I’m a secret agent!”

She then manages to whack his inator in just the right spot so that it collapses into a pile of rubble and then looks up at him all wide-eyed innocence like, “okay can I have something for Kalmar now? :)” and he’s like “.... okay sure, why not.”

Perry’s just projecting this back to HQ with his watch and they’re like “:O”

It ends with Leeli loading up whatever contraption she’s acquired for her brother onto a wagon pulled by dogs while she declines the agency’s offer of a full time job with a winning smile “sorry, I’m already the Song Maiden, defender of the Shining Isle, and a little kid. My schedule’s full.” and she heads cheerfully through a portal with her brothers, dogs and wagon in tow.

[mosscrab]

mgsv has so many literary references to books i have essays abt it kind of makes me.

[leatherbookmark]

somewhat pleased to announce that in case someone wanted to know, and i really don't see why they wouldn't, the cameras that atz use in the cawaii men photoshoots are

fujifilm simple ace p&s camera (for taking photos), and

most probably? pentax spotmatic (the one hj, sh and jh pose with)

[macroglossus]

work just tried to call me in and i had to croak like a little frog over the phone to be like girl. my voice is almost entirely gone. i cannot chat to customers today

[attila-werther]

[nobodybetterlookatme]

My boss said nobody is working tomorrow so she asked if I can come in anyway like 😭 I'm gonna die fr 😭

[keypostos]

caleb is 10 when he realizes that he's a physical touch fiend. the rush he gets when his hand lingers on top of your skin after playing with you is like no other. when he presses into your side while you're reading, his thoughts always circle around one topic: you, you, you. when you would run into his room after a nightmare, caleb was ready to swoop you in his arms and hold you until you fell asleep. every response towards you was involuntary.

caleb is 15 when he realizes that teasing 13-year-old you becomes irresistible. when he holds up your book, pencil, or some other item in the air, he watches as you jump up and down to try and grab it back. he's grown a lot in three years; if he had to estimate, he's a whole head taller than you now—20cm at least.

when you throw yourself onto him in an attempt to get your stuff back, he falters. you're laying against him on the couch, shuffling and moving up and down over his body, and caleb's breath hitches. you're so close and right there.

he's going insane. you can't even stand up for five seconds before caleb pulls you down against him once more, saying something about retaliation or revenge while tickling you to death.

caleb is 20 when he's about to leave for the DAA. there's an air of silence around the house. you've trapped yourself in your room more often, stressing over your senior finals. at least, that's what you've been telling him.

"i'm sorry caleb, i really need to study for this test."

"oh! i totally forgot about that project i had due tonight. shit, i'm sorry caleb. we'll have another movie night soon, okay?"

he doesn't know if you're actually this busy or if you're actually ignoring him. all he does know is that he misses you. he wonders about how he could miss someone who was in the room across from him. you were so close, but so far.

when you found out he was leaving—though you had a grin on your face while congratulating him—caleb knew you were devastated. he wondered if you were secretly mad at him for leaving.

two weeks before his departure, he practically forces you to be around him. he laid down next to you like before. he stroked your hair while you napped on the couch. he teased you and picked you up so you could hit him and grab him like you used to. he always chose to put his arm around you during a movie. he dragged you by the hand all around the neighborhood. he needed to all of that again, a thousand times more.

but at 24, it seems like there may have been a wedge between the two of you. calls are more and more infrequent.

"sorry, space signal sucks," he'd type.

"sorry, i was busy with training!" you'd reply, 2 days later.

he thinks that he would do anything to go back to before. he hasn't felt you in months. he sees you only twice a year.

it's hard. it was excruciating during the first few weeks. not only was he dealing with bootcamp, but he always found himself looking to his side, thinking you'd be there with him. at night, you were there, right next to him in bed.

he imagined that you would whisper words of reassurance in his ear. you'd hold onto him like you used to, when you had nightmares, and wrap your legs between his. there were days where we stroked his necklace, wishing that it was your hand instead. what he would give to have you next to him.

all he wants is to be able to feel you again. he chastises his 10-year-old self for taking you for granted back then. he wants to feel the apples of your cheeks when he caresses your face. once,—when he was 13 (you, 11)—he did that, and he thought you had a fever the way you warmed up. if he could, caleb would build a time machine to go back to that.

caleb is 25 when he is out of your life.

he thinks about you every day. it reminds him of when he was in bootcamp five years ago. it takes him back to when he was fifteen; you were on top of him, and his brain was fried to a crisp. caleb wonders if he's always been this way, because he can recall that at ten, you were still the only thing consuming his mind.

even during his arm repairs, you're there throughout all the pain.

when you discover his metal arm, all of caleb's instincts point to the door. he's spent so long trying to hide it from you: it's the constant long-sleeves (even though they made him incredibly uncomfortable), or making sure to only touch you with his left-hand (even though he wanted to pull you in with both hands).

but he stays. because it's you.

you freeze momentarily, listening to his writhes and moans of pain. caleb only notices you're there when he feels your hands brush his shoulder. he jolts back in surprise, and he sees you looming over him.

he stammers something, not even sure of what he said because you're here. you see him. you see it.

caleb's wanted this for so long. he wanted to see you again, in a state where you were both vulnerable, like old times. however, that moment probably wouldn't have come if he doesn't confess about this, so he relays the details.

you listen attentively, eyes wide with shock as caleb goes on. your hands wrap around his metal one, and he feels nothing. it's agonizing. he sees you examine him so gently. your fingers trace over bolts and plates of metal, lightly stroking up and down his arm. and caleb feels nothing.

how often has he dreamed of this? for you to be touching him again, so intimately and softly? he's stayed up countless nights wishing for you to be here, just so he can put his arms around you in a crushing embrace, only to be incapable of feeling you on one side of his body.

you pull away from his arm, asking if the fleet was accountable. when he doesn't say anything, he feels your weight lift off the bed and go towards the door.

whatever happens next is involuntary. he uses his flesh arm to pull you back, caging you between his forearm and his chest. there's no thought to it, no rationalization. it's just you and him. and he's been deprived of this for so long.

he breathes into the crevice of your neck, and he has half a mind to place his entire face there. he wants to breathe you in after being away from you for so long. no conversations, no contact, no touching. the last time he was this close to you was years ago. he needs this, caleb thinks.

the feel of you against his bare chest is something he cannot seem to describe. it's like he's his teenage (or even kid) self again, where he seems to short-circuit whenever he comes in contact with you. you're still small compared to him, but you fit perfectly like you did a decade ago.

he lets you go after he feels you trembling. you don't hesitate to place your hands on his waist and tackle him onto the bed. you catch him off-guard as you pin him beneath you, looking straight into his eyes.

"hold me," you plead, "with your right hand."

caleb lets out a shaky breath. there are voltages of electricity flowing through him—literally and figuratively. his skin sparks alive when he feels you. will it be the same with the metal arm?

slowly, caleb raises his mechanical arm. he wraps it around you, and feels the movement of your back shift downwards. you released a breath you didn't know you were holding. caleb held his.

you wait patiently before caleb starts running his metal hand up and down your back. you watch him exhale as he continues. you press your forehead on his, and you breathe in tandem with him.

caleb is 25 when he discovers that he loves physical touch.

wow like i didn't expect this to get so long... but like here we are???

i think we need to start embracing touch-starved caleb in all of our fics. this man hasn't seen the love of his life in YEARS (infrequently, anyway) so i think once she touches him (like INTIMATELY) for the first time in years he goes a little cray.

also sorry the ending was rushed i wanted to get this over with bc i intented this to be like 500 words but obviously it got way longer than that. what can i say... this freak has dug into my brain.

[prozach27]

It’s wild the number of posts I come across where people act like voting for or supporting Harris and Walz in the election is tantamount to implicitly supporting genocide. You know what actually helps genocide? Doing nothing while pretending you have the moral high ground. America is deeply tied to Israel and there will be no candidate who is as critical of their actions as we want them to be. We as private citizens do not have the power to make the USA suddenly cease all activity with Israel and demand an uncompromising ceasefire deal. Instead, we have to get our hands dirty and decide what path forward will mitigate as much harm as possible. You have one presidential candidate saying Israel needs to finish the job and another saying that we can’t ignore the tragedies in Gaza while vocally supporting a temporary ceasefire. These are your two picks. Thinking any third party candidate has a shot when none have any wide-reaching name recognition less than 100 days before the election is a fever dream.

The question then becomes, are you willing to say you voted “correctly” by voting for someone who has no shot of winning but is most closely aligned to you? Or are you going to vote for who will do the least harm? The idea that voting for a president involves liking them is a fairy tale. The establishment will always be the enemy of civil rights and safety. You’re voting for which opponent you want in office. The writing is on the wall about which candidate will be less of an uphill battle to fight against, and sidestepping the responsibility of making that decision by throwing away a vote isn’t moral or intellectually groundbreaking - it’s cowardly.

[ill0usainte]

Mark your territory.

pairings: colonel!caleb x wife!reader

cw: unprotected sex, office sex, marking, biting, possessive!Caleb (I mean it's Caleb we're talking about), mentions of babies, impregnation kink, breeding kink, baby fever, knocking up, mentions of killing, thoughts of the reader being pregnant.

Remember Caleb's hand that you gave a permanent bite mark when you were kids? Because he's always worried when you're sick, you'd always bite your tongue-- so he lets you bite his hand instead.

Caleb doesn't care if it hurts-- as long as you don't hurt yourself. He's okay with it.

Well, it's the same hand that you still bite 'till this day to muffle your moans while he's pounding deep inside of you, in his office-- well actually in any places you both fuck at.

And to be honest, the colonel doesn't really care if your moans and whimpers gets loud to the point that others can hear it, so that they're aware that he's the one fucking you dumb.

However, as possessive as he is, he never wants others to hear those sweet moans from you. He's the only one who should hear it-- he'd rather kill those who can even get a little glimpse of hearing those adoring sounds-- that's exclusively just for him.

Because, he's the one fucking you balls deep-- not them, while you moan and whimper in return.

He considers your visible bite on his hand-- a mark, a permanent one. When someone asks him where he got that-- he'll be proud to say that his lovely wife gave it to him.

While on the other hand, he wants to give you a permanent mark too-- a baby:(

This man will do anything just to knock you up for good and have your stomach swollen with his baby.

The thought of it turns him on all the time.

Always wanting to cum inside of your warm pussy, and fuck all of it inside of your womb. He always makes sure you take it all-- not a single drop wasted.

"Even if it doesn't take, I will knock you up over and over again until you're carrying my baby."

This man doesn't show any shame in saying these things to you.

He's just marking what's his-- marking his territory.

masterlist

[heartkaji]

currently thinking about bakugo “it’s not that deep” katsuki.

katsuki’s got a temper that makes him more chalant than not, but when it comes to everything else the blonde is relatively…unreactive. it’s not like he tries to be that way, he just has to be. when you’re surrounded by idiots like denki & sero on a daily basis, you eventually learn to choose your fucks & allocate them wisely.

“bakugo, class 1-B’s been hogging the hero equipment—how do we train now ?”

“it’s never that deep, tape face. just go later y’dumbass”

“bakubro, i think my situationship just blocked me—“

“literally just move on. really not that serious.”

the phrase has practically become katsuki’s signature one liner. so it’s a shock when his friends make you realize you’ve never actually heard the words from his lips.

“katsuki ? and nonchalant ? in the same sentence ? you must be joking.”

mina & sero are watching outer banks with your laptop while denki & kiri glance at each other in confusion. “you’re serious? he’s never said stuff like that to you ?”

“like ever?”

“never.” you run a brush through your hair. “though i guess i could imagine him talking to you guys that way.”

“double standards go crazy” mina mumbles. “real.”

“no, guys—all hope is not lost. it could be that y/n is really rational so he never has to say it, you feel me ?”

you scoff, but denki keeps talking, “we can test this out. just get y/n to act really dramatic and see how bakugo reacts.”

sero pauses the episode, ignoring the scowl that graces mina’s lips. “fifty bucks there really is a double standard and bakugo won’t act all nonchalant.”

“fifty bucks ? that’s half my salary!”

“not my fault you work at mcdonald’s dawg. you guys in or what ?”

kiri’s quick to strike the deal on kaminari’s behalf. denki’s about to protest when the fiery blond walks in.

“disgusting. why are you all sitting around like degenerates? not you baby.”

“what happened to ‘hello, how are you?’”

“hi ‘suki.” you purr, ignoring sero. katsuki dips his head to peck your lips, a quiet ‘hey pretty’ mumbled into your cheek.

sero snaps his fingers at the display of affection. “excuse me? in front of my obx?”

“the one you’re watching with my netflix subscription?” bakugo snaps the laptop shut and mina protests with a mouth full of popcorn. you’re about to playfully defend the duo when kirishima nudges your elbow. he cocks his head towards bakugo and you understand immediately.

“katsuki,” you tug at the hem of your boyfriend’s sleeve & look into his eyes with the most tender expression you can muster. “i’m out of lipliner.”

“okay ?”

you hear a snort and you know it’s from sero.

“there’s nothing ‘okay’ about it ‘suki. i need a new one or else i’ll literally die.”

bakugo’s brows knit in confusion. “is this your way of begging me for money?” he begins to dig at his wallet and you swat his arm away.

“beg is insane.”

“i don’t need your money.” you snap. “i need my lipliner. now”

“just order—“ “now.”

“what do you mean now? it’s almost nine pm, where the fuck are you going ?”

“nowhere. i just need it.”

“do you have a fever ?” “katsuki!”

“i need it now ‘suki,” you hug your arms around his body and place your chin on his chest. “if i don’t get it right now i’m literally gonna cry.”

your lips jut into a pout. you can tell he’s about to protest so you take his palm into your own. “it’s not that—fuck. whatever. where the hell are my keys ?”

he gently nudges you off him before grabbing the car keys off the front table, a string of grumbles leaving his lips as he sets out on the side quest regardless. he shuts the door behind him & suddenly the room buzzes back to life.

“y/n your pussy cannot be that good.”

“literally what i’m saying bro.”

“ho did you use rose quartz on him ??”

“i always knew you were a witch for real.”

“this whole interaction just piss me off.”

“i’m going home. denki and kiri, you owe me fifty bucks each.”

“EACH ?”

( bonus )

it’s nearly half an hour later & katsuki isn’t back so you’re starting to get worried. sero and the gang have already left, leaving you to deal with the growing anxiety by yourself. you finally decided to text your boyfriend only to find he’s sent you several messages already:

© ─ heartkaji ; do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 3 | masterlist

-

It’s not unusual for someone to mistake you for the baby’s mama.

How could someone not, at least for a moment? When you take the baby to the grocery store, older people gush over him babbling in his stroller, eager to shower him with compliments in baby-talk or tell you how much you resemble the little tyke. After hearing the same comment for the umpteenth time, you tire of correcting people by saying you’re the babysitter only to watch their face fall, somewhat mortified and feeling as though their comment should’ve been directed to the baby’s actual mother. Which isn’t you. 

It’s less typical for someone to mistake you for John’s wife, though that does happen from time to time.

You’ve become a fixture around the neighbourhood since John hired you at the beginning of the summer, and over the weeks, the other nannies and the stay-at-home moms have started to gradually warm up to you. Before long, you’re being invited on coffee runs and playdates with some of the other women, always careful to ask for John’s permission before bringing his baby into a stranger’s house.

“Just text me the address and their names,” he requests while you stand awkwardly in front of him, John sitting on the bed to finish buttoning up his shirt and fixing his watch around his wrist. You would’ve been fine standing on the other side of the door while he finished changing, but he insisted on inviting you in.

“I will,” you promise, nodding along with his words.

“And call me if you don’t feel comfortable. I’ll come get the two of you right away if you need me.”

You swallow. Nod again.

The first time you take the baby for a playdate with a couple of the moms from the park, one catches you in the act of texting John the address of the house as he requested. “Hubby wants to know where you are, huh?”

“Oh,” you choke out, face heating up. “He’s not—”

“Not a control freak, I know. They’re all like that.” Her smile is ebullient, rolling her eyes like you’re in on a joke together when you most assuredly are not. “Why don’t you share your location with him? Mine’s the same way. Here—I’ll show you how.”

She takes your phone and tap-taps something and suddenly you see it in the notifications of your conversation with John. If you bite your lip instead of correcting her assumption about the nature of your and John’s relationship, that’s for you and you alone to know. Your rationale is that any explanation will just make things tense; it’s not like you haven’t seen it happen before. 

It’s far more concerning when John doesn’t correct those assumptions. Particularly when you’re standing right next to him. 

Like at the local water park on a particularly hot weekend, wading in the kiddy pool with the baby nestled tight against your chest in his little swim trunks and floppy hat only for an employee to ask John if his wife would like something to drink. 

“Iced coffee, love?” John asks, taking your stupefied silence as a yes. “Nothing for me, mate. Cheers.” 

Your head spins like a top on that thought until a good while later. The server hands you a glass of iced coffee with condensation already dripping down the sides and John thanks him for you, taking the baby from you and pulling you to his side. You drink your coffee quietly with your thigh flush with his under the water, gripping the glass harder when his free hand squeezes around your waist, laughing at something another parent said to him.

It’s so over for you. There’s no coming back from this. 

The sight of someone of John’s size, a bulky, military man with arms of pure steel dusted with dark hairs, cradling a tiny, chubby baby with a thatch of similar dark hair on his head and big cheeks and roly poly arms unlocks something primal in you. An old, buried need. 

In the family changing room, you stand under an ice cold shower until it breaks the fever slowly consuming you. All you can do is hope it takes. 

In the evening, you sit out on the porch with John at the back of the house until the crickets swell with song, the moon a half-crescent in the sky. A cool breeze makes your shoulders lift a little, huddling into your body to keep warm. 

It’s hard to keep your eyes on the view in front of you and off the man sitting beside you when they want so badly to be running over him. He’s changed out of his work clothes into a soft pair of sweatpants and an old threadbare shirt, the sage green fabric faded after years of being run through the washing machine. It clings to his biceps and the soft pudge of his stomach, a layer of fat over the hard muscle beneath. 

A cigarette dangles from his fingers, thick wrist perched on the arm of the adirondack chair. Every so often he lifts it to his lips for a puff, always breathing out in the opposite direction from you. Considerate of your health, at least, if not his own. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks before ashing his cigarette, and your bottom lip purses when you turn your head to look at him because you thought you were doing a good job suppressing your shivers. 

You stare at him, confused. He cocks an eyebrow at your questioning stare and deliberately glances down, waiting until you notice the way your nipples are protruding through your white tank top. You forgot that you’d taken your bra off earlier for a bit of relief and hadn’t yet had a chance to put it back on. 

“Oh my god,” you squeak, crossing your arms to hide as much as possible, humiliation flooding through you. “I’m so sorry—that’s so—I-I’m so sorry.”

John makes a rough sound when he rises to his feet, knees cracking as he does. “S’alright, hun. Lemme get you something to put on.”

The screen door creaks when he goes back inside briefly to fetch something only to come back a few seconds later with a big, cotton sweater that reeks of him. It looks well loved, some remnant of his younger years, and even from a distance, you can smell the distinct smoky aroma clinging to the fabric. 

When he kneels in front of you, you nearly go cross-eyed at the realisation that even on his knees, he’s as tall as you. The bulk of his waist forces your legs to spread around him. 

“C’mon, arms up,” John commands, barely waiting until you’ve raised your arms above your head before helping guide your head and arms into the right holes. 

Dragging the sweater down the way he does forces it to rub over your nipples, sending a shock through you. If you had any less self-control, your teeth might actually chatter together. 

“There we go,” he says, fluffing out the sweater around your waist before resting his hands on the tops of your thighs, the gesture coming so naturally to him that you doubt he’s even noticed the placement of his hands. “Much better. That’ll warm you up.”

He isn't wrong. You’ve already worked up a sweat. 

Late night rain.

It comes down in buckets, a dark slate rapping hard against the window pane. A bolt of lightning flickers across the horizon off in the distance. White striations across an otherwise dark sky. About thirty seconds later, thunder rumbles. 

You peek from between the blinds, chewing your lip nervously. You’ve never driven in rain this bad, but with supper done and the dishes washed, there’s no excuse for you to stay any longer. Still, the rain comes down so heavily that despite your timidity, you briefly contemplate asking John if you can stay a little longer. At least until it lets up a bit; until your headlights won’t blind you reflecting off the puddles on the drive home. 

Someone else pulls the blinds further apart.

“There’s no way in hell you’re going out in that,” John says from behind you, practically growling his words. Daring you to contradict him. 

You glance over your shoulder to find him right there at your back, staring out the window. He’s so close that you can smell the red sauce on his flannel from dinner and make out the flecks of grey in his beard that are almost masked by the darker hairs. 

“It’s not…that bad…”

“Sweetheart, don’t piss me off,” he warns.

The blinds shuttle back together with a clatter when you finally let go of them. 

“I could—I could take the couch,” you offer. 

“Sweetheart,” John sighs, looking down at you meaningfully.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“I’m not gonna take the big, comfy bed and leave you with the couch.” When you open your mouth to protest, he cuts you off. “And don’t even try arguing. I won’t hear it.”

There’s not much you can say to dissuade him after that. The furrow of his brow lets you know he’s made up his mind; no ifs, ands, or buts. Besides, there’s a not-so-secret part of you that’s relieved that you don’t have to drive home in this weather. You’re an average driver on a good day. You don’t need your last moments before shuffling off this mortal coil to involve hydroplaning on the highway before ramming into the guardrail. 

John gives you a shirt of his to change into for after your shower, which you spend far too long in, scrubbing your body with his shower gel and quivering under the warm water. When you pull it on, you bring the collar up to your nose to smell. The same patent smoky scent, musky like ambergris and leather. Intoxicating. It makes the blood rush through your ear like a conch shell, the ocean swirling behind your eardrum. 

You hadn’t asked for underwear, content at first to keep on the same pair, but after your shower, you cringe at the thought of putting your day-old panties back on. Besides, his shirt is long enough to cover anything indecent. 

He sits on the edge of the bed when you come out, the concern on his brow melting away at the sight of you. 

“Practically a dress on you, isn’t it?” John says, voice a little wondrous. His eyes drag over you, tip to toe. 

You fiddle with the ends of it. “…Are you sure you want me to take the bed?” 

“Wouldn’t be fair. It’s yours for the night.” His lips quirk up at the corners when you frown. “Don’t worry about me—I’ve slept in worse places before.”

“Like where?” you ask dubiously.

“Tents. Abandoned buildings. Shacks. In the back of a moving van a few times. You wouldn’t believe half the places we used to make camp. Definitely no place for pretty girls like you.”

His condescending tone vaguely annoys you, but it’s hard to dig into your irritation when he thumbs the edge of the shirt you’re wearing and you realise that he’s just a few raised inches away from noticing that you don’t have any panties on. You should’ve just put your old ones back on, but it’s far too late now. 

You clear your throat instead. “We could…um…we could share.” 

You don’t know what possesses you to offer to share the bed, but the words are already gone, out of your mouth and in the air. John cocks an eyebrow.

“Unless you don’t want to,” you amend. 

“Don’t know about that, sweetheart,” he rasps. “…I snore like a bear.”

“That’s okay. I’m a pretty deep sleeper.”

John scrutinises you a bit longer, looking for any sign of hesitancy. You know he’d squash your offer in a second if he found any wariness in your gaze. 

“Alright,” he finally concedes, letting go of your shirt and slapping his thighs. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you wake up and can’t fall back asleep because of my snoring.”

After his shower, during which you lie on your side facing away from the bathroom door, stomach fraught with nerves as you consider the fact that he’s naked in the ensuite, you hear him come out and rummage around in the dresser for a change of clothes. You lie beside him with your stomach twisted in knots, your hands shoved under the pillow and staring resolutely at the wall. 

The appropriateness of sleeping in the same bed beside your boss isn't lost on you, but you're too far into this now.

The bed dips when he settles onto the other side, and the sudden absence of light when he switches the bedside lamp off nearly makes you cheep. 

He breathes heavily, you notice, particularly when he finally falls asleep. It’s a deep, rumbling sound—not entirely unlike a bear, though you can’t really confirm that for certain seeing as how you’ve never slept beside a bear before. 

Those are the thoughts that would signal the approach of sleep if you weren’t soon to be engulfed by it. 

Sometime in the middle of the night, you wake up to a rough hand stroking your back leisurely. There’s a hard chest under you, your cheek propped up on a pillowy pec that rises and falls with his breaths. Sleep bobs around in you like a toulouse decanter. You struggle to keep an eye open, certain that there’s something you need to tend to, but then his hand slides down your back again to curve over your rump and sleep drags you back down. 

You wake up again to your breath wafting back into your mouth, your face shoved into the crook of a man’s neck. Humid, hot. You’re lipping at the skin of his neck, little tongue darting out to lap up a bead of sweat, salty on your tongue. 

Your cunt pulses against his leg, toes curling when John drags his hand up your thigh and hitches it higher up around his waist. 

“Baby?” he groans, his voice still rusty from sleep. The sound is a rough burr up your spine. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. “Couldn’ get comfy.”

“You hot?” he asks.

The denial on the tip of your tongue slips back down your throat when he plants his foot on the bed and draws his leg up, pressing the meat of his thigh into your throbbing sex. 

“Here, lemme help you—” he groans, reaching down to ruck up your shirt, dragging it up over your breasts and helping manoeuvre your arms out of the holes. It gets tossed off the bed onto the floor. 

Now your breasts are flat on his chest, smushed against his ribcage. It registers somewhere in the back of your head as inappropriate, but sleep pushes that thought away, focusing instead on the discomfort of moving around when you just want to settle back down and go back to bed. 

It must be the heat making you act this way. 

“Shit—sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes, shifting under you. “M’hot too.”

He plants a hand on your ass and heaves you up his chest, giving him enough room to wiggle out of his boxers. It pushes your breasts right into his face, your nipples mere inches from his mouth. When his tongue pokes out to wet his upper lip, it nicks your pebbled nipple. 

A hard length presses against your butt when you’re slid back down, the tip wet when it catches against your skin. 

“Jus’ ignore it, sweetie,” John mumbles, petting a hand down your back. 

You lie like that for a while, splayed over his body. Want simmering just under your skin. Flustered and exhausted all at once, sleep-drained; not a drop of strength in your muscles. 

The heat is just—

Scorching. Dizzying. You feel featherbrained, slipping in and out of sleep, biting off the whimpers that threaten to crawl up your throat when John tucks his hands into the crevice of your thighs to wrench them apart, spreading them around his hips again. 

Distantly, you remember that the man under you is at least twenty years your senior. Your employer at that. A man now palming your butt, sinking his fingers into the flesh and rumbling low in his throat. 

It’s wrong—flagrantly wrong. You know that you should say something, that you should get up and tell him that you’re going to sleep on the couch instead. But your tongue is too thick for your mouth. And your thoughts are a sticky paste. The pulse between your thighs empties out all the common sense from your head. 

His palms are slick on your skin. 

Your breathing grows shallow when a hard length suddenly pushes between your thighs as well. 

When the mushroomed head nudges at your opening, you flinch, heart thumping ferociously against your chest. 

“John—John—” you breathe, panicked. As if to warn him. As if he weren’t planting both feet on the bed and lifting his hips. 

As if it wasn’t his hands, warm on your waist, dragging you down onto the shaft spearing into you. 

Your blood is molten hot in your veins. Sticky hands and sticky fingers curl into his chest hair. Your head thumps against his pecs, too weak to hold it up, lipping at the damp skin of his chest. 

“It hurts—” you bleat, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. 

“I know, baby, I know,” John pants. He draws his hips back just to press forward again, deeper this time. Filling you up more than before. “I’m sorry, baby—I can’t, it’s just…too good. Shit.”

Resolve in tatters. Shattered like his willpower, like his determination not to fuck the girl twenty years his junior sleeping beside him in his bed. 

His hips pump up into yours, bouncing you in his lap. Each thrust plunging his cock deeper into your pussy. It’d be painful if you weren’t so wet, but you’re dripping, arousal making you leak around his shaft and slickening his way. 

Sleep still rattles around in your brain, but not even the fog of sleep can shake the ever intensifying realisation that you’re fucking your boss. No two ways around it—breasts naked against his hirsute chest; pussy wet and stuffed to the hilt with a big dick. Knocked senseless by it. 

The veins of his cock drag over the viscid walls of your cunt with every thrust. He must like the involuntary noises you make because he loses his rhythm when you cry out, growling out a string of unintelligible curses. His body feels bigger like this somehow, biceps and forearms bulging where they’re wrapped around your waist, hips forcing your legs to spread wide around him, the ache sinking deep into your muscle, into your bones.  

When you look up at him, his eyes are more hooded than usual, the blue of his irises so dark that they’re almost black. 

“Such a good girl,” he grunts, big arms like steel bands around your waist, holding you tight to his chest so you have nowhere to run. “Jus’ let…jus’ let daddy come and—oh Christ, fuck, fuck…—jus’ lemme come and we’ll go back to bed, okay, sweetie?”

“I’m gonna…” you pant, trailing off when he gets a little rough, pumping harder up into you. The sound of your pussy squelching around his length makes your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open. 

“Yeah, yeah, you—you come too, baby. Jus’ need to take the edge off, both of us.”

You squeal when he reaches a hand down to dig his fingers into your butt cheek and it makes you tense up, walls tightening around his dick. One well-placed swat hard enough to make the flesh of your ass jiggle and you come, clenching up so tight that his next few thrusts are slowed by your spasming walls, forcing him to really cram his cock into your hole. 

“Christ, that’s cute,” John growls, his pupils blown out. 

It hurts to come that hard; makes your belly cramp up and everything. Whatever gibberish spills from your mouth gets lost in the aftermath. 

That’s when the temperature goes from hot to blistering. The muscles of his thighs tense, straining with his impending release. Even his grip around your waist gets tighter, his self-control steamrolled under his approaching climax, oblivious to the way you squeal and squirm when it threads the delicate needle of being too much. 

“Sorry, baby,” he apologises, voice treading gravel. “M’gonna mess your pussy up a bit—”

“Wait—wait—” you gasp, trying fruitlessly to lift yourself up, his arms keeping you pinned tight to his chest. “You’re gonna—John, you’re gonna come inside me—”

His hips thrust up hard at your words, one last rough pump that has him digging his heels into the mattress and clenching his jaw, the veins in his neck protruding. You feel it flood inside you, hot spurts of cum right up against your womb. He curses when he comes, eyelids sliding shut, lost in the sensation of emptying himself into you. 

A few last, punishing thrusts that make your teeth clack together. More heat spurting into you. A murmured oh fuck before his legs slide back down the bed, spreading out over the mattress. 

The blanket is somewhere at the foot of the bed, all scrunched up and nearly dangling off the edge. You only start to shiver when the sweat on your back finally begins to cool. 

When he pulls you off his cock, you whimper, a hot flash snaking through you. Oh Christ did he plug you up good. Stringy, viscous cum leaks from your hole, leaving a little puddle on his thigh when you slide off his chest and to the side a bit. 

“Oh baby,” he tuts softly, reaching between your legs to feel where you’re wet and a little swollen. “Sorry, sweetheart…wanna get cleaned up?”

“No…” you rasp, so dazed that you can’t even lift your cheek off his chest. 

Exhaustion has never ridden you this hard before, but considering the circumstances…—perhaps you’re lucky to be conscious at all, is all you mean. There’s not a chance of you having enough energy to do anything as rigorous as showering though. 

“Okay, baby. Little kiss?” John asks in a murmur, lifting your head up by your chin and swooping down for a kiss. Not even giving you enough time to process his words before his mouth is on yours. 

His lips glide slick against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth like he needs a good, deep kiss to ground him. A wet twisting of tongues; a thick finger stroking up your neck. He can’t stop touching you. Running a hand up your spine and curving it back down over your ass. Featherlight touches meant to calm you down. His kisses grow sticky, lingering; each one almost the last until he pulls you in for another. 

“Go back to sleep, okay?” John says, still speaking low enough to push you back under. He smooths his hand down your back again. 

You fall back asleep with a load in your belly and your head in a tizzy. The you of tomorrow is going to have a lot to contend with from the you of tonight.

[29121996]

.