#i think those two give a good taste of both his more produced work and also his folksier stuff!

[listedbuilding]

what album(s) would you reccomend for someone trying to get into Phil Ochs?

i personally started with i ain't marching anymore, which is his second album, it's fairly simple in terms of arrangements, and mostly contains topical/political songs!! as you move along into his later albums, they gradually become more orchestrated/produced and the lyrics become a bit more abstract and personal as opposed to his first album, all the news that's fit to sing, which is simple guitar melodies with lyrics mostly all about current events on the time (and it's soo charming..). i would start with i ain't marching anymore and then move on into pleasures of the harbor, although if you're truly willing to commit to his music i think listening to his albums in chronological order is the best way to do it (especially since he doesn't have that large of a discography) :-) BUT in terms of starter albums i ain't marching anymore + pleasures of the harbor are the two best i'd say!!

[unholyhelbig]

part 4 mob boss mommy *i mean natty oops*

Title: The Oversight [Part 4/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 4325

Warnings: Gun imagery, heights, unecessary tension, horrible grammar, and funnel cake

[A/n: Heads up, I wrote this while I had the flu & a pretty bad fever, so it's not my greatest work. Thank you all for the postive feedback!]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

“Hit me.” Natasha’s words were growled, a low rumble compared to the warm spring breeze that produced nothing but a balmy environment. Sweat glossed her collarbone, moved against expanses of skin that you had let yourself imagine, but had never seen. She was a distraction, despite being your instructor.

Her wrapped fist made contact with your jaw, a metallic taste coating your tongue. You let out a grunt of protest, fingers quickly working against the area to ease the throbbing pain. “That wasn’t fair,”

“You think they’re going to play fair? Focus up. Hit me.”

There was something about being this close to Natasha that formed a pit in your stomach. You were meant to have skin on skin contact, though most of your mornings for the past two weeks had been spent at the gun range, she had deemed you ready enough to learn how to fight. It was an art, you figured, not just something you could blindly go into.

For the first fifteen minutes of your day, you had watched Natasha and Kate spar. Yelena was standing next to you, a borderline predatory gaze on her face. You’d realized that it was one of the only emotions she harbored, and that Clint was rightful in his fear. Still, her attention was not focused on you, and that was good enough for the time being.

Instead, it was homed in on Kate. “I have been teaching her for nearly a year now.”

“She’s good.”

“You do not have to lie, y/n. She’s sloppy, reckless. Look how calculated Natalia is.”

Those emerald eyes were tracking every move the taller girl made. She’d initiated contact with Kate’s ribs, with her knees, and her shoulders. She’d fallen to the grass more times than you could count, but she still got up. That’s what seemed to count around here. Even as green a brown stained her workout gear, and as purple blotches of dead blood rose to the surface of her skin.

“It pays to learn fighting styles. That is something the Danver’s family does not understand. They hire whoever they can. Bodies over skill, it can work in some situations, but not all.”

“When did this… war start?”

“Mm, the power struggle has been raging for decades. Our parents, and their parents, and their parents before them. Both of us were trained to take over the family business. Men, they fight with their hearts and not their heads. When Carol and Natalia took up the mantel, things only got worse.”

You felt silly, growing up on these city blocks, and not realizing that a fight bigger than yourself was raging just within the shadows. You supposed that was a good thing. If you knew, you’d have taken Ronnie out of here in a second.

Kate hit the ground for a fourth time, the air knocked out of her lungs. She still had enough left to groan and prop herself up on her elbows. Natasha chuckled, the sound bubbling past her lips. This was much too fun for her.

“She is fragile.” Yelena nudged you with her arm. You frowned. Kate accepted the outstretched hand and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. She looked dazed. “Do not tell her I said so, but she was looking for a project. You have to give it your all. For both of your sakes.”

You drew in a breath to respond, but Yelena clapped a hand on your back before taking a step toward the dueling duo. “Alright Nat! I think you’ve tortured Kate Bishop enough. Do not break her.”

Kate was bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet, her fists raised in a defensive position. Her lip was split, rusty crimson against the corner of her mouth. “I can do this all day.”

“You do not have to.” Yelena’s nose scrunched up “You stink. Go take a shower.”

The blonde shoved Kate playfully towards the house, trailing behind her and murmuring things in Russian. She’d left you alone with Natasha, something you had become quite accustomed to. In your workout gear, you felt more than a little exposed, her stare raking up and down your form before her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink than they already were.

The two of you had sat on the lawn chairs as she wrapped your knuckles, had you punch the palm of her hand to see how much blowback it would cause. You were holding back, and you both knew it. Her last command had been non-negotiable.

When you swung your right hand towards her jaw, Natasha wrapped her fingers around your wrist. She had flipped you onto the ground with enough force to knock the air from your lungs. You’d flailed in panic instead of going limp like Kate had.

You’d dragged Natasha down on top of you. Her body weight was warm from the beating sun, her elbows on either side of your head. Natasha’s knee was between yours, pressing into your core. You let out a small gasp at the sensation, pulling in her musky scent of sweat and clove.

Stray strands of russet hair framed Natasha’s face as she peered down at you, her chest heaving, each breath pushing her closer to you. Her nose was brushed against yours. The two of you were impossibly close, soul-crushingly so. You were certain that she could feel your heartbeat through your shirt.

She made a quite noise “Pet, if you wanted to get me on top of you, all you had to do was ask.”

Your gaze had given you away, and Natasha suddenly had a shit-eating grin against her lips. You hooked your legs against hers an arm wrapping around her waist. In a smooth move, you had her flipped against the grass, eyes reflecting the blue of the cloudless sky. She nearly seemed impressed, and you preened at the stare.

That was before her knee came up and knocked the wind out of you for the second time. You grunted, rolling off her. The two of you stared up at the sky for a few moments before she hoisted herself up and offered you a hand. You batted it away out of habit, rising on your own.

“When you fall, you fall with grace.” Natasha said, her voice stoney, right back to her serious self. “That way you don’t end up like we just were.”

“And if they ask?” you lifted an eyebrow at her, a hint of malice in her voice. She took a step closer to you, and that ever-intoxicating scent filled your lungs once more. Your ribs still ached from her kick, fingers massaging the sore spot. However, all of your movement halted.

Her voice was murmured and rusty. “I don’t want anyone else on top of you.”

“Okay,” You whispered, throat suddenly tight. “Then show me how.”

Veronica had the excited reflection of light in her eyes. They scanned the traveling fair that had been set up in the park bordering the harbor and a square city block. Each year, tents with local vendors would go up, rides and carnival games in their stead.

The scent of kettle corn filled your lungs, a mix of sweet and salty that reminded you of your own childhood spent here. It was the one constant that every foster family took part in. Sometimes you’d be given a stack of tickets, others, you’d get enough for a large cup of the best lemonade you had ever tasted.

Her hand tightened around yours, squeezing in excitement. Despite your current situation, you couldn’t help but smile. The soft sound of music and the light breeze was enough to make your forget about your aching muscles, and the light sweater that you had thrown on to hide the bruising against your shoulders, your arms, and collarbone. Natasha had really done a number on you.

“Jimmy is a nice guy, he really is, but the whole magic thing is driving me nuts.” Darcy used her forefingers to pinch off a bit of blue cotton candy, shoving it into her mouth. She talked around the melting sugar. “Seriously, he spilled my coffee all over my lap attempting a card trick and then attempted to mop it up with a never-ending handkerchief.”

You snickered at that, earning a look cut from glass. “What? I’m sorry about your drycleaning, but it is kind of funny.”

“Yeah, whatever. I just have to grow a backbone. He doesn’t try to pull that shit with Monica. No one tries to pull that shit with her.” She knelt in front of Ronnie, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “You’re not going to tolerate stupid magic tricks, are you?”

She was met with a silent, but amused stare, her eyebrow lifted. You’d been leveled with that look more than once yourself. It dissolved you into more laughter. “Alright, alright. No magic for the kid. Does the Ferris Wheel count as magic?”

“Well sure, but only at the worlds fair.”

You rolled your eyes but effectively tugged them both into the line. It had always been one of your favorites. It gave you a good look at the city you called home. Of course, your view of that city had been stunted lately. It never truly changed the beauty of the lights and the way they reflected off the water.

Your shoulder came in contact with chilled leather, your attention having been trained on fishing through your pockets for the small red tickets. Your eyes shot up, ready to rush out an apology until the words stopped in your throat.

Seeing Natasha outside of her manor was jarring. She looked nearly the same, a tight-fitting black T-shirt and a leather jacket draped over her shoulders. Her hair was loose, unlike it was at training earlier in the day, cascading down her shoulders. Her make-up was light, her unripe stare pouring into yours. That bewilderment melted into her cool exterior as if it were never there in the first place.

“Natasha,” the word poured from your lips before you could stop it, and the corner of her mouth quirked up in amusement. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I can take a hit” She stated matter-of-factly. You were well aware of the fact, and you had to stifle a shiver as it worked its way down your spine. Hours before she had been nestled so perfectly on top of you.

Your cheeks heated up and you glanced sparingly at your friend, her own eyes going back and forth between the both of you. It was then that you noticed Clint, towering over Natasha with his arms crossed over his chest. He gave you a finger wave, and you lifted your chin in return.

“I’m Darcy, you are?” She was beyond forward, and it made you internally cringe. She reached her hand out to the very woman that ran the city. It was like sticking your hand in the lions enclosure covered in steak sauce.

“Natasha,” her words dripped with a subtle hint of her accent “This is Clint.”

“Howdy,” he knelt then, Veronica was clinging tightly to your leg, peeking around tentatively. She hugged you closer as he spoke. “You must be Veronica.”

The woman in front of you softened as you had never seen before. Her eyes grew brighter, though you could pin that on the circulating lights of the Ferris Wheel. There was a genuine smile on her lips as she looked at the girl who hugged you ever close.

“She doesn’t talk much, I’m afraid.” Your hand moved comfortingly to her shoulder. Ronnie seemed comfortable, if not excited about the rides that were teeming around them.  

Nat smiled at you “Oh, I’m sure she’ll speak when she has something to say.”

Ronnie’s death-grip on your leg seemed to loosen a bit as Clint straightened up. Darcy continued to scrutinize you and Natasha, something mischievous in her stare that you didn’t exactly care for. She rocked back and forth on her feet and directed her attention to Clint.

“How good are you at skeeball?”

“An absolute beast.” Clint replied.

“What do you say to a challenge? I bet I can kick your ass with the power of science. Winner springs for funnel cake.”

You picked up on the subtle look Clint gave Natasha and the even more subtle wave that she responded with. She blew an amused breath. Darcy stretched her hand towards Ronnie and wiggled her finger. “Kid, you staying or going?”

This time, Ronnie looked up at you for confirmation and you gave her a small, encouraging nod. She dislodged herself and wrapped her hand around Darcy’s. The promise of flaky and sweet funnel cake topped with powdered sugar was too tantalizing.

Admittedly, you were used to being left alone with Natasha at this point. Though it had mostly been in a business capacity. She seemed almost shy now, the line for the Ferris Wheel inching ever so closer.

“We can still go on, if you want.” She suggested.

“Yeah, yes. Of course.” You replied, “that would be lovely.”

“Your friend is very persistent.”

“She’s harmless, really.”

“And your daughter. She’s beautiful.” Natasha shoved her hands into her pockets, the two of you inching closer in line. “Just like her mother.”

Once again, you could feel the breath lodge in your throat, your cheeks flushing with fire. She was so bold at moments, and you remained silent in your conquest. There was no telling what was overstepping, though she blinked at you expectantly.

You fumbled dumbly with the tickets in your pockets, presenting them to the attendant. You both ended up in a cherry red car lined with nice leather cushions. Natasha’s thigh was warm against yours, her thick scent coating your lungs. Her arm was around the back of the cart, and a familiar sense of safety settled within you.

“You worry about her,” Natasha said to fill the silence as they loaded each cart. It lurched forward and back, making your stomach turn. “I didn’t start speaking until I was nine years old. My mother, she was so concerned that she rushed to be every specialist that money could buy. Whole days spent driving to different counties, just for them to say that same thing. Nothing is wrong, and I’ll talk when I’m ready.”

“What was that moment? The one where you were ready?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “The thing about being quiet, is that people tend not to notice when you’re in the room. My father protected Yelena and I from his world for as long as he could, but eavesdroppers hear no good of themselves, and others. I watched him give a man his last drink before shooting him between the eyes.”

“Fuck, Natasha.” You murmured.

“He doesn’t know I saw that. I ran as quietly as I could back to my room and hid under the duvet like a child. Something snapped in me that day and I no longer wanted to be silent. I suppose the fear of displeasing either of them ebbed the words from me.”

She was being vulnerable in front of you, a side that you had never seen. There were always her subtle touches, and her purred words that would hit the pit of your stomach. You’d watch as she gave unwavering commands to Clint, to Yelena and Kate. But this was different. This was her.

The city sparkled around you. Tricolored lights reflected off the blackness of the causeways that lapped listlessly at the harbor. If you squinted, you could almost make out the mansion where you spent most of your time.

The carnival buzzed below. Her scent was overwhelming, so warm and welcoming despite her danger. And dangerous she was. It was alluring, exciting. You looked at her, eyes pouring with emotion. Not so much pity, as she would snap your wrist at the fact. But a simple understanding.

Tentatively, you reached up and cupped her cheek. You both were too far above the ground to be realized and the simple gesture was one of good faith. Surprisingly, she leaned into your touch, making a quiet, relieved noise.

Your voice was whispered, “You didn’t deserve that. You were just a kid.”

She had closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth of your contact. Her features were so soft, so broken in this moment that you resisted the urge to kiss her frown away. Before you could contemplate it, the Ferris Wheel lurched and she gently took her fingers and wrapped them around your wrist, lowering both of your hands into her lap.

“She’ll talk,” Natasha gave your hand a squeeze “give her time.”

Natasha cleared her throat as the cart neared the end of its journey. She pulled away entirely, her arm still along the back of the seat. When she leaned closer, you could feel the weight of the gun in the inside pocket of her jacket. Seriousness had lidded over her eyes once more.

“We have a job tonight, and I want you to come along.” She said, breath hot on your collarbone.

You were suddenly snapped back to reality. Natasha was in fact the head of a crime ring that you had unwittingly stumbled into. Up until now, aside from the brutal beating, it had almost felt like child’s play. She’d relearned you how to shoot, and you knew the very basics of fighting. But, you were far from her Winter Soldier stand in. You weren’t even a toy soldier.

She sensed your hesitancy. “I have a meeting at a restaurant downtown. It’s not going to go south, but if it does, I need you there. You won’t be alone.”

“Clint?” You asked.

She shook her head “guys got a family of his own, he must spend some time with them outside of work hours. Kate.”

You fought back the noise that threatened to escape your throat. You didn’t doubt Kate, but you certainly doubted yourself. You didn’t have your own weapon, and the threat of leaving a restaurant with a bullet lodged between your ribs became very real, very quickly.

She chuckled at that, “I trust her. I trust you. Just stand there and follow her lead. Look hot and intimidating.”

“Is hot really a requirement?”

“Not really, but you pull it off.” There was a switch in her again, one that had been flipped effortlessly as she grabbed the collar of your sweater and pulled you impossibly close. You were nearly sitting in her lap. “Don’t fail me on this, y/n. It’s imperative that you do as you’re told.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You swallowed thickly as her hands wandered your side expertly. It took you a moment to realize that she had pulled the gun from her own coat and silently transferred it to yours before she released her hold on you. You had admit that you missed the touch instantly.

She stood from the cart when the attendant unlocked the door, reaching her hand out to you. You took it was ease, letting her help you onto the metal dismount. There were no words exchanged as you readjusted the weapon as slyly as you could muster, hands shoved into your pockets a moment later.

“I don’t know what to tell you, dude.” You could hear Darcy’s voice from within the crowds. It was easy to spot them, and you swore you saw the ghost of a smile on Natasha’s face. “The kid kicked both of our asses. Split the difference and pay up.”

“Yeah, fine.” Clint fished out his wallet and placed a couple of bills in Darcy’s waiting palm. “The price of carnival food these days is outrageous.”

Kate had presented you with a leather holster that fit snuggly around your chest and abdomen. She’d tightened the straps, your arms halfway raised. It felt a bit like a dressing room at the mall, her breath hot on your cheek as she tugged the center strap to make sure it was secure.

“Natasha likes us to be presentable.” She handed you a dark jacket to throw over the contraption. “Inconspicuous and deadly. But still presentable.”

You followed Kate’s lead. Natasha was to drive to the restaurant, and the two of you were to follow in a separate car. It was important to stay quiet unless you were spoken to directly by Natasha. Kate seemed at ease on the ride over, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel to an incoherent pop song.

The holster pinched you uncomfortably, but you were so deep into your own fear, your own reluctance, to pay much attention. Kate shot you a look, hard in her nature, and then softer when she glanced at you a second time.

“You’re much too tense” she flicked off the radio, delving you into a comfortable silence. “Lower your shoulders and relax. It’ll be an uneventful night.”

“Right,” you let out a shaky breath “uneventful.”

“Look, I can’t imagine how jarring this is for you. I would have shut down by now, changed my name and gone into witness protection if I was thrown into this life the way you are. Without a choice. But, we can make the best of it and do what we can to protect Natasha.”

“It seems like she can handle herself,”

Kate chuckled “Oh, she can. But she doesn’t keep us around just for protection. It’s a big city, she wants people she trusts. She wants a family. And I know it might not seem like it, but her welcoming you into her inner circle… it’s a blessing. Just like we’d go to bat for her, she’d do the same for us.”

You swallowed the dryness in your throat as Natasha pulled her car to the curb in front of a russet brick building. Kate did the same expertly, shutting off the engine. She clapped you on the shoulder, giving you one more encouraging smile. “One night at a time, y/n. Follow my lead.”

Kate opened the door for Natasha, and you had to keep your jaw from dropping on the ground at the sight of her. Her long leg stretched onto the sidewalk, her hand squeezing Kate’s in return as she helped her from the vehicle.

She wore a maroon dress, one that had a slit down the leg that left little to the imagination. The color matched the shirt Kate had given you earlier, everything orchestrated to a tee. The woman looked at you approvingly before she took striding steps towards the front of the building. Out of habit, you held the door open for you, another look sparkling in her dark eyes.

It was a restaurant that you had never set foot in. There was a sour, yet pleasant, scent of vinegar and cabbage masked with that of freshly baked bread and beef. The walls were painted deep green, black and white photos of rolling hills placed above empty tables.

It was clear what table you were to be led to. There was one in the center of the restaurant that was set up with a bottle of wine, and water. A candle burned in the middle, shading the woman who occupied it with shadows that stretched her delicate features. She wasn’t alone.

The woman had cropped blonde hair at the shoulders. Her hazel eyes were calculating, clocking Kate and yourself immediately. Kate pulled Natasha’s chair back, allowing her to sit before she took a step back. You flanked her sides, arms behind your back and stare trained straight ahead like a sentinel.

“Two,” the woman smiled devilishly, hiding it behind a glass of deep red wine. “Are you compensating for something, or someone?”

The woman who stood much like you did behind her boss was not masking her contempt towards you. She was familiar in an irking way that you paid no mind to. It was in passing, you were sure, but it was one of those itches that would worsen until you could scratch it with your whole hand.

“Not at all,” Natasha replied cooly, “I believe there was something you wanted to discuss?”

“Mm, there was. You know the Maroni property on the west side.” She leaned forward, placing her glass down. Her lips were stained in a dark red that matched Natasha’s dress. “I want it.”

“That’s a horrible way to say please.”

“Natasha, we both know it doesn’t serve you in it’s current position.” She put emphasis on the name.

“I fail to see how that matters. Just giving you the property is out of the question. That’s not how this works, but I do admire your gumption.”

“Then how exactly does, this work?” She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. Both you and Kate tensed. The vaguely-familiar woman behind Carol shifted on her feet in the slightest movement. “You kill one of my men and offer nothing in return?”

Natasha lifted her eyebrows “Exactly. This isn’t a bartering system, and it never has been. If I give you this building, it will change everything and I’m not much in the mood for a power struggle. What do you need it for?”

She seemed to falter “I don’t have to answer that. I’m offering to buy the property from you.”

“It’s not for sale.”

There was finality in her voice that rocked the room into silence. She hadn’t touched her wine, nor her water, and you figured she wouldn’t. Carol glowered at her, clearly not used to having her endeavors squashed with such ferocity.  

Natasha took a steadying breath. “Is that all? It’s late and I’m tired of your graveling.”

She let out a sigh and crossed her legs, drumming her ringed fingers on the cloth-laid table. The flames in the candle seemed to react to her impatience. Kate’s jaw clenched and unclenched as she leveled the woman behind Carol with a fierce stare.

“I suppose. I want you to remember this moment, Natasha. I offered you a deal.” She stood and dramatically sighed once more. “This could have been easy.”

Kate always kept her eyes on Carol, on the woman who followed behind her with her hands shoved into her pockets. The darkness of a previous scar littered her collarbone. She had the same stare that Bucky had, that same determined anger that came with years of meetings with higher stakes than this.

“Oh, and Nat.” She stopped just short of the door, turning to face the three of you.

Kate reached for her weapon, and out of a blind trust, so had you. It was warm from its housed place against your side. In that moment, you knew that anyone else in the room would be a quicker shot than you. Still, your heart was beating quickly in your throat.

“I don’t know where your Winter Soldier is, but this is a sorry excuse for a replacement.” She laughed, a mean sound. “A kid and a burn-out… you should’ve taken the deal.”

She left without another word, leaving you in a chilling silence. For a few long moments, Natasha stared at the table, at her reflection in the syrupy red wine. Her fingers brushed against the glass, frowning.

“I’m twenty-three.” Kate let out in a single breath, eyes drifting from you.

“Don’t look at me,” You whispered back, “I am a burn-out.”

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[flowershines]

Special Treats

Bf. Peeta Mellark x F. Reader

warnings: smut, tabs (sex chocolate), protected sex, nicknames, cunnilingus

Not proof read

Coming home from work, opening the front door to your shared apartment with your boyfriend, he was sitting on the couch in front of the tv watching the new season of the Hunger Games. Ever since he had been in the games with Katniss he kept trying his hardest to stop watching them and have the others follow in his footsteps but he just felt bad for the contestants this year, you had told him that they put two 8 year olds in the games this year.

Ofcource he never wanted to see those kids die so he did as much as he could to make them stay alive by sending in donations for them to keep them alive, after winning he had more of a wealthy lifestyle having you both live in the wealthiest side of the capital.

“I’m home.” Dropping all of your belongings in the chair that had been surrounding the island in the middle of the kitchen, he stood up and made his way over to you kissing your temple then complaining about how messed up the producers are “I’m surprised that they made it this far anyways, I think my donations are helping them I hope.” He said while looking down at the ground, shameful for the kids. “They are, they’re still alive aren't they.” “I don’t think for very long though, one and two have been trying to find them since they would be the easiest targets, I left them some small notes saying that they need to find shelter and hide for now.” Running his fingers through his blonde hair as he sat down into one of the chairs next to you, walking to him and giving him a small hug as a way to try and comfort him.

You always loved how caring he was, even though those kids weren't his and weren't even in his old district he felt like he had known them their whole life, kind of like an older brother figure to strangers.

“Oh I forgot Haymich gave me these chocolates for you, he said there was a note on it for you but it fell off when he gave it to me, it's just chocolates so I thought the note wasn't that important anyways.” “Yeah, you're right it’s Haymich, he probably wrote some stupid shit on it.” Handing the chocolate he took it and unwrapped it, “Want some?” shaking your head you exclaimed how you just went out to eat with Katniss for lunch. Taking a bite he hummed at the taste of it, “Good?” he shook his head up and down very fast you thought that he might get whiplash. Laughing to yourself you walked towards your bags and started to put them into your shared bedroom and started putting things away, Peeta walked back over to the couch and sat down right in front of the tv as you heard another buzz sound notifying you that he had just sent another donation to one of the kids.

As time went on he watched the tv closely as the group of trained teens walked over to where one of the kids had been hidden since the games had started.

Peeta’s POV:

Watching the kid shiver from fear made something in me feel horrible for her, a single tear ran down her face as she probably knew that it was the end for her, as they would kill her in no time. I put my hand over my mouth trying to stay quiet as if I was in the games myself, seeing her shiver and cry reminded me of my time during the games, not wanting to see the poor innocent girl get brutally murdered I walked towards the door letting Y/n know that I was going to take a walk along with asking her if she could shut off the tv not wanting to watch it anymore. I knew those kids were probably going to be the first to die but I couldn’t help but feel sorry for them, I mean who wouldn’t.

On the walk Y/n kept coming into my thoughts wondering what she probably thought of all the murder and what she thought of me being in the games as well, more questions about her wandered into my mind. I ran my hand through my hair and sighed deeply, I should probably start heading back to the apartment now heading back thoughts of Y/n couldn’t escape my mind, I probably just missed her so much today so I keep thinking of her.

Walking through the second to last hallway towards our apartment an image of Y/n popped in my head of her laying in our bed in my favorite pear of her lingerie, the red ones that never really covered much. I felt a rise of heat shoot through my stomach down to my sudden growing bulge which twitched at the thought, walking faster than before not wanting any of our neighbors to catch me with a growing hard on in my pants.

The more I would think of that image of her the more tighter my pants would go up against my dick making the sensation of the fabric rubbing against it even more hard to concentrate on any other random thought that might run through my head. Arriving at the apartment she was in our shared bedroom but instead of wearing the lingerie she was wearing the same clothes since the last time I saw her in.

She was on her knees putting things away in the bottom drawer of the dresser, I walked in front of her hoping she would see my aching problem and help out. She noticed that I was standing above her, she looked up at me with the most innocent eyes that stared into mine as she smiled softly. “When did you get back?” She said as he attention went back to what she was doing before, “Not that long ago.” I grabbed her by her jaw with one hand and made her look up at me, “I need you, now.” her eyes trailed from my eyes all the way down to my pants. My dick was right in front of her face making it perfect eye level with the tip as it leaked pre cum through my boxers and pants.

“All of the sudden?” She giggled still looking at my bulge then up at me, “Please Y/n, I was thinking then you came into my mind then an image popped up of you in my favorite lingerie on you.” I let go of her jaw and looked down at her with pleading eyes, “Your always horny.” She said standing up and walking towards the kitchen to get the last of her bags, I stood there defeated knowing that I would probably have to resort to my hand again. “Peeta?” She said from the kitchen, I walked into the room that she was in and stood in the doorway with an arched eyebrow and head tilted in the slightest way possible. She looked at me holding the box of the chocolate, “Do you not know what this is?!” “Chocolate.”

She rolled her eyes, “No shit, Tabs?” Looked her in the eyes and shook my head as a way to tell her I was not following, “It’s a chocolate made to turn you on, I should have read the box before giving it to you but I thought you knew.” She dropped the box on the island and rubbed her forehead, “So what am I supposed to do.” I rubbed my hand along the tip of my dick as she looked at it. She took one of the chocolates that showed three water droplets and ate it, “I’ll help you out, we just have to give it a minute for me to digest it.”

My eyes lit up with excitement, she walked over to the couch and placed a movie on and started watching it. I walked over to her and sat down next to her, I kept shifting and squirming in my seat as her attention was focused on the show in front of her. “Can I please eat you out?” I asked looking her up and down, she nodded and laid back against the arm of the couch using it as a pillow, I pulled her pants down which to my luck she wasn’t wearing any underwear giving me even more easy access. She whined at how slow I was going, I got closer to her heat and licked my lips as they hit her folds. I loved eating her out she always tasted so good and she would play with my hair all roughly making me moan into her pussy.

She would whine and breath all shaky which was my favorite noises that she makes, I couldn’t help but feel aroused as my tongue was deep into her. I uncontrollably got harder and started grinding down onto the couch for some sort of friction that my aching bulge was missing, as her moans and breathing became more sporadic she would grip onto my hair more tighter as my groans were muffled by her pussy, she loved the vibrations that it would give her and brought her over the edge making her cum on my tongue.

She sat up and pushed me down onto the couch and sat on top of my lap and started to unbuckle my belt I grabbed her shirt and started to unbutton it. The sound of my zipper being undone made me shift my hips up so that way she would be able to move my pants down to my knees. I finished buttoning her shirt and pulled it off each arm and brought one arm behind to her back and undid her bra. “Your a pro.” She said talking about being able to undo her bra with one hand, “You helped me become one.” I said smirking and dived into her neck and started to make my way down to her boobs, she moaned as my hands traveled from her waist down to her heat starting to do small circles on her clit.

She fell into my chest and started kissing my jawline then working down to my neck, she kept whispering sweet nothings into my ears. Pulling my hand away I reached towards the side table next to us and pulled out the drawer, taking out a condom and handing it to her and I shut the drawer and kissed her check. She ripped the packaging with her teeth off and took it out sliding it down on my dick, i softly groaned into her neck from the sudden sensation of her hand on me.

She grabbed my dick and placed it right at her entrance slowly sinking down on me as my hands rested on her waist, throwing my head back from the sudden sensation as I could feel her clench from every angle, her pussy ran along on the veins on my cock, she was made for me.

Grabbing at her waist tighter she started bouncing up and down on me, I kissed her on the lips as she continued bouncing on me. She grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me closer, our tongues danced on one another fighting for dominance. Her free hand ran up and down across my abs then bringing her hand down to my balls to play with them giving me the best pleasure.

Moans and groans filled the rooms our neighbors banged on the wall telling us that they can hear us, I placed a hand over her mouth to muffle her moans but she started to reach her peak and get closer and closer to her climax, realizing this I reached my hand down to her clit and started to rub it in circles while thrusting my hips up to meet her motions. Moans got louder and louder both of our climaxes at their peak, “P-peeta I-I’m gonna-” “Me two, princess.”

With that she started to fall apart on my dick as my cum shot into the condom filling it up, she slowed down her pace till she stopped moving and just cuddled against my chest. She went and grabbed my dick pulling it out of her making me whine from her hand touching my overstimulated cock, then proceeding to take the condom off and bring it to the kitchen and throw it away. She went into the bedroom not soon after came back in her comfy pjs sand had brought me out some as well, she handed them to me and picked up our clothes that had been thrown off earlier.

She walked back over to the couch and cuddled into my side I kissed her temple and said “Thank you princess, I love you.” “I love you too baby”

[beebopboom]

Messages from Above

Witch or Prophet? Both?

Both is Good.

In part 1 we covered all the prophecies and images I could find in The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter book

and now we can jump into some analysis and theories about Agnes Nutter - starting with where the hell they came from

Now I’m sure we have all wondered how Agnes got her prophecies. Where they came from? How did she manage make the only completely true prophetic work in history? And predict her death? Well that one may be getting ahead of ourselves.

As for the rest of it though - well she shows us

In the artworks included in her book two that really stood out were ones depicting John and Ezekiel.

In each of these stories they are given a scroll to devour that will taste like honey in their mouth. They are then told to go speak these words/prophesies to others, even if they shall not listen.

But just to summarize what these stories are about - Ezekiel deals with warning people of the destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple as God’s punishment but with a promise of a New Beginning and Temple - John is dealing with the Second Coming, of the angels going through the seals, the blaring of trumpets, and just note that the scroll sits as bitterness in his stomach because of the judgements that are meant to come.

Sensing some running themes here

Agnes Nutter was a women that had a little more agency than these two men though

On the desk when her son-in-law and daughter are going through her things there is a upside down piece of scrap work paper that gives us a little more detail into this

although I do not have everything on this paper figured out, as some things are still a little iffy - I still think it’s enough to include

(and big thanks to @gallup24 @thesherrinfordfacility @archangelween for all the help)

So from what I could put together from all that the top reads as -

To Speak to Saints

Call the names

and say thus. I conjure you by His

Legs and Arm come to me in this

xxx xxx and send unto me a saint named

xxxx. fulfill my command and

understand my word

So while I may not have those names it’s very clear a summoning was happening.

combined with the rest of the paper - which features a pretty similar set up to a certain bookshop, angel and alchemy symbols, and various words such as “Chants, Robes, and Armageddon” - and I believe that this is just kind of like a scrap/work paper which would explain why it’s a bit more messy and unorganized than anything else

So what the hell is going on here? Well it may not be perfect but just to throw some things out there

Some saint/angel - yknow what maybe even God herself(I promise that’s not just a throw away comment but wait and see!) - comes to Agnes

Agnes has a way for a human to get in contact with Upstairs

Agnes produces the first and only work of completely correct prophecies of events that lead to Armageddon 

I think we can fill in the blanks with saying she received her prophecies from some Divine Being and continued to be visited - maybe even visiting on her own

There is a reason her title is on the front of Good Omens after all

————————————————————————-

Alright that’s all folks - for this part at least. Next time we will dive into her death, the death of her work, and what she leaves behind -> right here

[vallxlkzal]

🥀💔Part two💔🥀

The Detective kept his eyes on Wally, trying to swallow his breakfast, which didn't taste good at all, because...

Although bandaged and slightly bruised from yesterday's harassment, Wally was finally smiling and happily eating what he was given. He was very hungry and swept all the food off his plate with such appetite that the Detective involuntarily remembered that evening in the restaurant. All movements, facial expressions, voice — absolutely everything matched. And at the same time, there was a strange feeling of difference, if only because the striped one was not running away. He simply had nowhere to go.

— So, Detective, about those Waldos... They know where we are, what we're doing and what we're talking about... And they teleport wherever they want and kill whomever they want. I have not yet solved such serious problems, but do you want to think about it?

The Detective must have already reasoned, because Wally is right — in this world, you're only safe in your own thoughts. If there is any information beyond your head, Waldo knows about it automatically. But is it appropriate to trust Wally? Maybe he, too, is just another doppelganger trying to learn more?

— Encryption. Those letters you showed me... I know better ciphers because I've been to different countries, different universes, and learned from different people, different creatures.

The Detective looked up with interest. Wally seemed pleased with his idea, but at the same time there was something that was very visibly unsettling him. Both understood that it was impossible to say anything, but everything went perfectly without words.

— I'm sure he won't be able to decipher what I know.

Actually, Wally was thinking about his friends and about Wenda. He was afraid that if he said it out loud, it would be a sign to Waldo that even Wally had something to lose. He didn't specifically say that Wenda was his girlfriend, because it was already clear. Maybe she'd be safe now if Odlaw was around, and he always was, so Wally forced a crooked smile as hard as he could to keep from showing panic and fear. Waldo has no way of knowing that Wally can stop helping the Detective if Waldini himself is in trouble.

And Waldini wanted to help, because the case that he decided to take on struck him too hard. It is about the safety of several families — this single father on one side and Wenda, Woof, Odlav — on Wally's side. As well as other potential victims of the striped maniac from this pixel universe.

The Detective gripped his fork tightly as he studied Wally. Damn it... He looked like Waldo with that cheeky grin and it was incredibly confusing, but he gave an interesting idea. This should work.

— If we only communicate in those ciphers or the long-forgotten languages ​​I've learned while traveling the worlds, we can literally throw him off track.

— Aren't you afraid he'll just cut off your tongue or hands because of it? — the Detective also smiled wryly, but he really didn't want that to happen to Wally.

— Aren't you afraid to throw ideas at him? — Wally could not stand it and stopped smiling, continuing to eat in silence. He gently touched his crimson bruised neck and exhaled heavily. For some reason, the Detective felt sorry for this creature.

— I'm sorry, Wally.

— You know, I was never afraid of pain, because I just didn't know what it was. I asked Odlaw, who is constantly suffering, but he only smiled and remained silent, saying "it's better for you not to know." Okay, just give me a pen and paper. What are we left with if I have to reproduce it even if he can see?

The Detective nodded and complied with the request, watching the slender fingers produce strange symbols, letters, or numbers. Absolutely nothing was unclear.

— I'll explain what that means, don't worry, — Wally said as if reading minds. — Yes. Yes. And yes... Please bend down so I can try to whisper in your ear as quietly as possible.

All red, the Detective did that too.

"My Wenda, Odlaw and Woof are in danger as well as your family. I'm scared", — that's what the inscription in a strange cipher meant.

Wally started to smile again to hide his fear and excitement. It was as if nothing made him panic, as if everything was under control again and he was in his book or cartoon, where everything is always fine.

The child, who sat next to them all the time and happily swung his legs under the table, not looking at the whole scary and tense situation around him, also kept his eyes on Wally. But Junior's look was softer and more trusting.

Junior liked Wally because he was like Waldo — the friend who had asked not to reveal his existence to his dad... until today.

— Wally used to give me the same thing! — the child pointed to the letter with encryption and quickly brought his direct evidence, which he had been hiding on the instructions of the cheerful uncle in the striped sweater, and the Detective was as if cold water was poured over him.

Wally continued to smile the same smile as Waldo, the encryption, the lies...

For the poor Detective, the puzzle is wrong again — he is being deceived right now. The Detective just didn't understand that Waldo had already seen this scenario and was just laughing somewhere far away at both of them, because he knows that now Waldini will become a murderer again in the eyes of the Detective.

Waldo's goal was to undermine the confidence of his Detective, who positions himself as "the law". He must kill Wally — the most kind and good, striped creature in all the universes — with his own hands. The fool already killed Wenda with his trip to the restaurant. Waldo knew that the single father was still incredibly punishing himself for this act.

Now it's Wally's turn.

— You... You... — the man's voice again began to take on notes of aggression and anger, and poor Waldini thoughtfully put his hand to his chin, looking even more like Waldo and not understanding it.

Okay, this time Wally was wrong and Waldo knows tricks like that. Perhaps he knows only this cipher, there are actually many options, just an ordinary human brain will not be able to perceive so much information. Another code was needed and Wally even knew what it was, but the person next to him was looking at him with hatred again, but didn't strike only because Junior was there.

— Oops, I forgot I'm not the only nerd here, — said the striped one naively, which pissed off the Detective even more.

— Alright, jerk, what do you want from me this time? Why did you come to us and... And... What the hell do you hang around my child whenever you want, I didn't give permission!

— I'm not Waldo. Okay, he knows I'm scared. This is bad. Very bad.

Ignoring the psychotic Detective, Wally began pacing the kitchen, nervously going through the options. Nothing came to mind.

His friends, even his beloved dog Woof, are now either dead or alive. And it is impossible to know. The hand itself reached for the walking stick, but the walking stick no longer opened portals and could do nothing.

— I'm going to shoot you now! — the Detective began to seethe, but he tried to keep himself in his arms next to Junior. How dare Waldo's doppelgänger behave so brazenly and walk around his room so freely? And at the same time, why isn't he trying to kill someone in this house?

— I will write you another cipher. Waldo definitely won't know him, I guarantee you...

— I've had enough of your ciphers.

— Oh, I need Odlaw's advice. He's the only one who would be able to suggest something in this messy situation, because my good ways aren't working for me anymore, — Wally said sadly, ignoring the Detective again, and sat comically with his round ass on the chair by the table, clutching his walking stick in an effort to calm himself down. — Dude, please stop acting like a child and understand that we are dealing with... With... A very serious thing that jumps in space and time itself. Do you think he would not be able to foresee that I would so naively hope to deceive him, if he personally is constantly fooling you and everyone around him in this world?

The Detective wanted to take Wally and squeeze him by the throat, but then tried to believe it and calmed down, remembering another scumbag who was sitting in prison right now and smiling wide.

— Well, I have one Odlaw here. Do you want me to take you there? But I won't be responsible for your psyche after this visit, Wally.

— Does it make sense to take me to Odlaw, who is probably helping your Waldo? I am not sure about this, but at the same time I am not sure about everything.

— Fair enough, but I have no other ideas. I just wonder what this scum will say when he hears your words. Do you understand that only Junior is saving you from a bullet right now?

Wally let out a heavy breath and realized that no one other than the Detective knew enough to help him anyway, so he just looked down at the boy who had been standing for a long time and was happily hugging Waldini as much as his small stature would allow. For the child, it was just a funny uncle, if not a second father. Or like mom.

Wally smiled bitterly. He loved everything about Wenda, even in other dimensions, so he took Junior into his lap and hugged him, ignoring the Detective completely.

The Detective was also thinking about Wenda. And about how she looked like Waldo. And how she looked like Wally. And about the fact that for a second it seemed that she had returned again and was sitting next to the table with the child on her lap. It was reassuring.

Wally looked so much like her. So similar... And at the same time it seemed like a trap. A sweet, intoxicating trap.

— Eh. OK. I agree to go to Odlaw from your universe. I wonder how much he's changed, — Wally finally said, and the Detective nodded his head.

💔🥀💔🥀💔🥀💔🥀💔🥀💔🥀💔🥀💔🥀

[superman--yoosung]

こんにちは！元気ですか？⬇️ I saw your taking matchups! so….I would like a Romantic Matchup for Mystic Messenger please? 어쨌든, 시작하자!

Hi @averagetoyakinnie, nice to meet you! Yours is one of the most vibrant and vividly-formatted asks I have ever seen (in a very positive way!) From one creative to another, I wish you all the best in your artistic endeavors!!

Your Mystic Messenger matchup is...................

707 !!

"Oh, Joey, I saw you were duo-ing with Seven in LOLOL the other day! You two have taken the top spots, that's impressive, hehe. But wait, why haven't either of you joined the Shooting Star guild with me?!"

To outsiders of the RFA, you and Luciel Choi seemed like a rather flashy couple. Bold fashion, Luciel's startlingly bright hair, and energetic personalities when combined - the two of you were impossible to miss whenever you cruised by in one of Seven's sports cars. To those in your circles, you were - well, you were still all those things. But you were also known to be considerate, knowledgeable, and highly creative. Out of all the members, it was often the two of you who were able to most consistently produce innovative solutions to problems that came up.

The love between the two of you already proved itself once - and Luciel couldn't wait to see what would come next in your shared story.

Fun details:

707 loves dressing up, so when he realizes your varied tastes in clothes, he'll start buying outfits that cater to those tastes. He'll send pictures of his cosplays (and crossplays) your way for you to critique the outfits and give your fashion input. Once you're an established couple, he will definitely go on a shopping splurge to buy matching outfits (and cosplays) in all the styles and brands you prefer. (And yes, that goes for Saeran, too - he's not going to be left out of this!) Honestly, this is a great way for Seven to bond with you; he thinks your taste in fashion is top tier.

Any time something you've had a hand in producing goes live, there will be an influx of posts about it on social media. Suspicious timing, you say? Seven has no idea what you're talking about. Nope. He definitely didn't make bots to promote your works the instant they're out. Why on earth would he do that? (Spoiler: he definitely did do all that.) If you take issue with the publicity, he'll stop, but only because he'll start spamming his own many socials with the information instead. His words and over-the-top lovey-dovey comments are still always sincere - he resonates with your works, and if you ever steal the headphones off his shoulders, don't be surprised to hear your music echoing back at you.

What with your humor and Seven's memeing, there is never a dull moment in the RFA chat. Even after Luciel tones it down later on, you two will always be a source of lively energy, especially when you're both together. You're able to bounce off one another's quips almost instantly, like it's second nature. You're also both very intelligent and knowledgeable. Yoosung will always come to you first, though, for help with subjects you know well; it's up to you whether you decide to help him, or do a little trolling.

Seven is delighted to find someone with as many varied interests as him; he will always take you up on an offer to join you in an activity you enjoy. He may be good at it, or he may absolutely suck at it - but he'll always give it a try and have fun with the process! Sometimes he'll pretend he's bad at something, too, like when he pretended not to know how to skateboard - but you see right through the act, because of how he handles himself in the small details. Either way, expect things to always be fun and full of laughter if he's tagging along.

Later on, your more artistic pursuits will be intriguing for Saeran to hear about and see in action. If you decide to share those interests with him, he will eventually come around to them, and if you ever put up a small gallery in your home of digital art or give a private concert for Luciel and he cries like a baby by the end of it - well, that's between the three of you.

You and Seven will sometimes switch to different languages while speaking or messaging. Sometimes it's to troll the rest of the RFA a bit, or annoy them, but sometimes it's just because one of you is bored or the thought you'd like to convey is better said in another language. Anyways, Luciel's door passwords are no match for you, so he's just going to have to learn Tagalog faster than you can if he wants to keep you out, isn't he?

Any and all of your date ideas are fine by Luciel. In fact, why not do multiple in a day? (He's a bit hesitant to leave Saeran alone, but as long as your most trusted maid is at home to babysit, he's down for anything and everything.) Expect many handmade gimmicks and knick-knacks from Saeyoung. Like the robo-cat, his gifts have dual purposes beyond just appearance, though sometimes while on a date, he'll sneak something simple home, like a flower you stared at for too long (yes, plucked straight from the neighbor's garden as is, he's a menace like that) or a keychain from your favorite anime. Enjoy these gifts - they are all given sincerely and with love!

When you give him a drawing for the first time, Seven is just... floored. What did he do to deserve something so precious and intimate? It will be his most treasured item, even long after you've settled into life together. He will take in every little detail, every sketched line or color, and his heart will never fail to skip a little faster than normal. This is, after all, the fruit of conscious effort and labor by you made with him in mind. It's proof that you think about him. It's proof you care. That's more than enough for him, yet you choose to share even more - and my, how it makes him realize how impossibly lucky he is.

It was love at first sight for Seven. The moment he saw you on that camera, he was gone. Your fashion, your looks, the way you carry yourself... He wasn't lying about the 2.35 seconds - he couldn't look away. And of course, over the time you spent on the messenger app and in person, he only fell deeper for you as he got to know your personality and soul. With you and Saeran by his side, Saeyoung thinks that - maybe, finally - he can finally learn what a true, happy family is meant to be. You are his source of hope.

~~I also thought of Yoosung for you, but I wasn't sure if you'd prefer that since he was in your kins. (And more importantly, he does the "You're just like XXXX" thing, which you mentioned you dislike.) Anyways, I hope this is to your liking!

[hyenahunt]

Rouge & Ruby: Eventual Affection - 4

Writer: Umeda Chitose

Season: Winter

Characters: Hiyori, Jun, Ibara, Nagisa

Proofreading: royalquintet (JP) & Skyress (ENG)

Translation: Mirei (Adam) & hyenahunt (Eve)

Jun: L-O-V-E, love! You couldn't have achieved everything you've done without it... that's what I think.

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Hiyori: Oh, I know what it is! It looks just like that thing on our Chocolat Fes stage...!

Jun: Right, that's it!

Actually, the more I look at it, the more it seems exactly the same... Didja do that on purpose?

Ibara: … Do you think it turned out this way by coincidence?

Hiyori: Dear me~ I was so looking forward to trying them, but now that I see the four of them sitting together like this, I can't quite bear to!

Nagisa: …Then, how about we eat one box together instead of having one box each?

Hiyori: A splendid idea as always, Nagisa-kun! Well then, I'll have this one for myself… ♪

Nagisa: … How does it taste? Is it the same as the one I ate before?

Ibara: Yes. Given that one has already been approved by Your Excellency, I believed it would be fine to proceed as-is.

Jun: Just when did you get to try a sample, Nagi-senpai? C'mon, Ibara, you gotta invite us for that kinda thing too.

Ibara: Our schedules just didn’t line up …

Hiyori: Some excuse that is! In case you forgot, you literally called me in the middle of the night the other time...

Jun: What for?

Hiyori: Oh, did I not tell you how Ibara was already hard at work?

He called me to ask if I knew any jewellers on good terms with my family, and if I could introduce him to them. As you know, a request for help from Ibara is just so astronomically rare!

Hiyori: And that's why I introduced him to people experienced both in the jewel trade as well as jewellery design...

But to think that even the box looks like something right out of a jewellery shop... That was thanks to them, was it?

Ibara: There were quite a lot of difficulties since my request was a bit sudden…

However, their expertise helped us produce both a chocolate and a container that are up to our standards… ♪

Jun: Whoa, how did you find the time for all that?

Ibara: It was quite hard work, you know. I had to make use of nearly every connection I have, including His Highness himself, all while doing everything I could to keep costs down…

I thought of how it would appeal to our fans, or even those who would only catch a single glimpse of us at Chocolat Fes.

It truly was hard work creating a product that will give people a strong urge to make a purchase.

Nagisa: … He said hard work twice.

Ibara: It was definitely hard work, but I didn't think of it as labour. There's no other way I can describe it.

The chocolate's quality turned out very high, so I ended up wanting to create a new unit visual to match the design…

I had to squeeze the photoshoot into everyone’s schedules too, so the hard work also extended towards all of you.

Jun: You went as far as to ask Ohii-san's help, and even wanted to do so much extra for it...

You seriously put your whole heart into this...

Hiyori: Right. Even for someone like Ibara, it must have been unbelievably hard work preparing everything to this extent.

I did find myself wondering if we'd actually manage to pull all this off.

It seems that this time around you were able to completely avoid it, but were you ever tempted to use COMP's budget for this?

Ibara: I made the decision to take total ownership of this project; it will be planned and implemented by me, for Eden.

There is significance to doing it with my own power. Plus, I couldn't accept it if I didn't. I also wished to convince you all by doing it this way.

Jun: …

Ibara: This is the sort of the victory that I seek.

Bringing Eden—and myself—to the top with my own two hands… was both my desire and ambition. I had already forgotten about that budget long ago.

Of course, I have every intention to make full use of the remaining COMP budget in the future! Ahahaha ⁠☆

Hiyori: Ah, what a shame. It would've sounded so good without that last part.

Nagisa: … But, you do agree that Ibara was a good kid right?

Jun: …Come to think of it, you take on so much by yourself all for the sake of Eden and our fans.

But even then, you say you don't consider it "labour".

Wouldn't you say that's your way of showing love, Ibara?

Ibara: …What was that?

Jun: L-O-V-E, love! You couldn't have achieved everything you've done without it... that's what I think.

Ibara: …

… No, no, no. It can't be love.

Nagisa: … Quiz time. Could this be Ibara being a little embarrassed? Press O for Yes or X for No.

Hiyori: Yes is the only possible answer, of course! Just look at how flustered he is!

Ibara: Both of you! I'm not your fun little quiz topic!

Jun: Haha. The more worked up you get, the more you'll get teased for it, y'know?

So why don't you just call it "love", and leave it at that?

Valentine's Day is the victory that you've been aiming for, and no matter how you look at it, it's the Day of Love itself... ♪

[ ☆ ]

✦✦✦✦✦

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[taxfraudhousewife]

i am head over heels for him

he’s perfect as closed minded and insecure as i think he is

he’s so perfect

i’m not what he wants

i know

he’s perfect

biblically accurate satan probably

im scared that if i cosplay as a real girl it still won’t be enough

lipstick on a pig

but what if it worked

how terrible it would be to lie to him of all people

i know no boy is worth that

i don’t even think i’m capable

i’m too autistic

but still i think he’s worth all the lying and planning in the world

he likes real girls

but he is everything to me

i wanna kiss his stupid face

not on the mouth cause that’s gay

i know it would never actually work

and it would be wrong of me to put him through that

i’m certain i’d hurt him im sure of it

it would be wrong of me to let him marry into my family

all the shit the nat shit and the bren shit and the lana shit

the keith shit

he shouldn’t take on all that

i won’t bring him into that

but it’s so tempting

he’s perfect

he’s safe and he’s warm and he’s nice and he’s closed minded and he’s stubborn but he’s kind

i shouldn’t have watched arcane

cause the terrible idea of what could’ve been has wormed its way into my brain

could it have been

he’s too good for me

it would be unethical to even try to pursue it

but he never gives up on me

i hate that

why won’t he

it’s like physically painful

i wish he would give up on me

but now i can’t give up on him because i owe him that much

not compatible

unless we are

those tiny chances are always everything

i know it’s too tiny

but it’s still there somewhere and it won’t let me go

hope for a boy always kills me

i hate boys except for liam

it’s so stupid

but he’s so pretty

and his eyes are too close together how could i not be obsessed

his EYES are TOO CLOSE TOGETHER

i might love them more than any other pair of eyes

why couldn’t jinx stay

i think i almost thought if an expensively animated ella purnell could get a happy ending with nice boy maybe i could too

i think i almost thought that it was possible

i almost thought i was in the timeline where it could’ve worked

there’s probably only one or two

they’re probably nice

in one of them we probably argue over everything or maybe i just shut up and nod and smile and be grateful

why won’t he give up on me

the knowledge that i’m stupid outweighs the knowledge that im ugly

that’s not saying much

it’s pretty hard to be ugly and pretty easy to be stupid

and all i know about both is there is so much i don’t know

who am i to say anything about a thing so subjective at this point

the only thing i know for certain about being ugly is men don’t even care

who am i to say whether it’s a matter of taste or preference or desperation

who am i to say what it looks like to like or love or long

when this secret liking and loving and longing is my default

he knows a me that i don’t know anymore

i wonder if he misses the him that i know

i don’t remember much other than he was nice

and so funny that i could’ve died

he could run for so long

still can

he was a better rabbit parent than me

i briefly hated him for it

i hated him for being an only child with two parents seemingly in the same tax bracket as mine

cause he was better than me

i thought whatever was wrong with me was from being an only child

he sure fuckin showed me

he’s perfect

exaggerating to say he’s everything to me

but he’s at least 30% of everything

and lately he’s been 95% of my thoughts

let’s not find out how far i’ll go

to look like someone he should know

i know no boy is worth a cosplay

but he’s worth every lie and plot

he’s worth all the consent that could possibly be manufactured

he’s worth the entirety of all capitalist propaganda all the effort and death

that would be so much easier than convincing him i’m worth anything at all

why would i even think about the girl part

i don’t even have the non gendered normal human shit to give

but i don’t want the commodity he produces

so maybe he doesn’t want mine

maybe the labourer’s humanity is enough for him

fuck do i even have that to give

i’m not saying i’m not nice or whatever

im not saying i lack humanity

i just lack the will to do anything other than sleep

and i don’t think that would be so nice for him

but i think it would be nice to sleep next to him

i think it would be safe and warm

why couldn’t he stay

i honestly fucking don’t like ontario

and i wouldn’t leave everything for him

but i would consider it more than i should

i’d never ask him to uproot his whole life

but isn’t it just worse if it only works in summer

if we both think it’s worth all the torture

if summer could be so sweet

stop it

why would you tell him specifically episode seven is crazy

why the fuck would you say that

get it out of your dumb head

logistically what the fuck do you think is gonna happen

genuinely retarded fuck

i just wish i could’ve kept him close

i’m too afraid to ask him

not to do anything

just what he thinks

maybe if i asked him and he’ll never like me again then i can split on him or whatever

he can be another boy that i will show how cool i am by disappearing

eponine shit always

why do you chase them

at least eponine is cooler

but you just dumped or got dumped by every painfully close female friend you’ve ever gotten so painfully close to

you just can’t grow the fuck up out of that safety when those huge giant strong toxically masculine boys were around

and nothing could happen to you cause they were stronger than everyone

you have to hold your own shit together now fuck

nate isn’t gonna bludgeon your way out of this

julian certainly won’t

it can’t be just this fear all the time

just stop this eponine shit

and stop this fucking whatever it is

the feeling

the one with nate and julian and bren and assan

what even is that

the thing that turns you into an actual human being

the thing that’s only okay to feel with liam because he just might be the only one who at least it doesn’t hurt to feel it for

is that just affection

affection

the thing that turns you stupid and happy cause right now despite reality your brain thinks you’re safe

cause he’s here

how could i not be safe if he’s here

how could i try not to offer what dumb humanity i can give

cause i don’t have anything else worth giving

and i embarrass myself always always

but how could i not

he’s here it’s safe

god damnit fuck shit bitch cunt

i know it’s not happening

i know that

it’s been so long since i’ve gotten so excited when a boy texts me

but i don’t think he likes me like that

i don’t mean it in a self deprecating way

it’s just preference or taste and i should be glad for him that there’s no desperation

i don’t think i have much of a personality

i do

it’s just in my head

there’s a lot but not a lot worth offering

i wish that i didn’t think about a boy at the same time as my own worth

but it’s always the eponine shit

[winterfable]

Birth of Feminism

I would amend this statement of Jung’s. Men did have eyes for what a woman knows, but those eyes were tightly closed! But there have been some changes, especially in the working world, since Jung wrote those words during the Second World War. That war had inadvertently provided the seed for the women’s liberation movement that emerged in the mid- or late sixties, though almost no one recognized it at the time. Before the war most people lived in nuclear family units, and unless you were very rich or very adventurous you didn't go far from your place of residence. Many lived and died within a few miles of the hometown. People were bound by a narrow set of mores. I remember that when I was a teenager I firmly believed that if an unmarried girl became pregnant there were only two options: a shameful marriage or suicide. And I was typical of the people I knew. When the war came, people began to move to distant places when they were called to serve in the armed forces. The men went off to fight and the factories and shops needed employees to replace them, so women rushed into the “man’s world” and did quite well performing “man’s work.” Rosie the Riveter enjoyed her short career, which was cut off as soon as the men returned to their jobs, their homes and their women. The women who had put off marriage did marry now and started producing babies in great numbers because the impetus to give life follows the impetus to kill and destroy as surely as day follows night. In any case, women embarked upon an intensity of housewifery and motherhood with a vengeance, and soon they were up to their eye[1]balls in dishwater and diapers. But there was a difference. Motherhood in the past had been taken for granted. These women had tasted something else. Money in their pockets for which they did not have to account. Independence. Success based on their own accomplishments, not related to their marital role. Time out with “the girls,” when they could talk about their feelings without having to rush home to put dinner on the table at six o'clock. Yes, we missed our men, but not as much as later we would let them think.

My generation, the women who were newly married or soon to be married at the end of the Second World War, soon found ourselves caught in the endless round of feminine responsibilities and expectations much as they had been before the war, but we had a different consciousness about it. The animus had reared: his head, and then gone under again. A few of us white middle-class women, when our children were Sufficiently grown to be in school most of the time, had the temerity to go back to school to complete our education, and even to get a job. If it was financially necessary for the family that the woman work (and keeping house and caring for four or five children was not, in those days, considered to be work), she was pitied and praised. But, if she were married to a man with a good position and an adequate income, and she then went back to school and later to work, people would think that there could be only two reasons; either her husband couldn't support her, or he couldn't keep her happy in other ways. That a woman could want to do such a thing was rarely acknowledged. Men objected to their wives’ seeking a career because they felt it cast a poor reflection upon them; women criticized their working sisters, I suspect, because they were either jealous of them, or because they lacked the nerve to do the same thing, or both.

It was Betty Friedan, foremost author early in the women’s movement, who, with her book, The Feminine Mystique (1963), gave expression to women’s frustration. She shocked her readers by printing that “information for which a man has no eyes.” She wrote of the progressive dehumanization that “has carried the American mind for the last fifteen years from youth worship to that ‘sick love affair’ with our own children; from preoccupation with the physical details of sex, divorced from a human framework, to a love affair between man and animal. Where will it end? she asked. And in a prophetic statement which could have been a manifesto for the women’s movement that ensued, she stated:

I think it will not end, as long as the feminine mystique masks the emptiness of the housewife role, encouraging girls to evade their own growth by vicarious living, by non-commitment. We have gone on too long blaming or pitying the mothers who devour their children, who sow the seeds of progressive dehumanization, because they have never grown to full humanity themselves. If the mother is at fault, why isn’t it time to break the pattern by urging all these Sleeping Beauties to grow up and live their own lives? It is society's job, and finally that of each woman alone. For it is not the strength of the mothers that is at fault but their weakness, their passive childlike dependence and immaturity that is mistaken for “femininity.” Our society forces boys, in so far as it can, to grow up, to endure the pains of growth, to educate themselves to work, to move on. Why aren't girls forced to grow up—to achieve somehow the core of self that will end the unnecessary dilemma, the mistaken choice between femaleness and humanness that is implied in the feminine mystique?

This book, the arrival and widespread availability of The Pill in the United States, new technology that released more time for women to think about themselves, read, meet with other women and talk about their common frustrations—all these fueled the women’s movement. So did a whole spate of books by women who had found their voices and dared to use them to arouse, support and inspire other women. ... And, as more and more of Jung’s Collected Works were translated into English, the women who read them discovered the name of their repressed but vigorous and powerful side—the animus.

I had returned from Zurich after completing my analytic training at the Jung Institute in the mid-sixties. Among my first analysands were a number of students from the University of Chicago. Many of them had read some of Jung’s writings, and many were involved in the student uprisings on cam[1]pus and in the city of Chicago during the Democratic Convention of 1968. Some had used or were using psychedelic substances. Old images of consciousness were being shattered and people were looking for something to replace them. There was a new camaraderie in these groups between men and women and more spontaneous expression of feeling, both publicly and privately, than had been seen in many years. But still, political and economic power remained in the hands of the white male establishment. Women who were trying to move into the mainstream of the work world were having a very difficult time of‘it. Everywhere, doors were slammed in their faces. Women were discouraged from entering graduate schools, particularly professional schools. A few token women were accepted, but their lives were not easy. A woman physician told me that when she was in medical school her male colleagues taunted her to “toughen up,” as they gave her the messiest and most gruesome assignments. Then, when she finally learned to do what she had to do without wincing and to speak the same language as the men and to insist upon being treated with respect as an equal, they criticized her for being “too mannish.”

Women began to talk with one another. A woman I'll call Sara told me how it started for her. She was attending a professional meeting where the membership was about two thirds male and one third female. There was a panel discussion on stage in which only men participated. The floor was open to questions and discussion, but the questions came almost entirely from men. If, occasionally, a woman summoned up her courage and raised a question, she would barely be acknowledged by a “thank you” and then the panel would move on to the next question. Sara noticed that, if a woman did speak, no other woman would rise in her support. After the meeting, Sara cornered a few of the women who were present and asked them what they thought about the meeting. Opinions were shared. Most had felt squeezed out, outraged that no woman had been asked to participate on the panel, angry that they were made to feel invisible. So the women agreed to meet for breakfast the next morning without any men present. At breakfast, the fury at the indignity the women had experienced on this and many other occasions began to surface. Animus, recognized, was finding its expression. But it was not “masculine” although it might have seemed so in that it had a domineering, and demanding tone. It had a peculiar quality of a woman whose feminine side had been put aside in order to experience and express the emotions that had been masked for so long. The women decided to meet on a regular basis as a group, and they did so. There wasn’t any agenda. They wanted a place where they could reflect on their experiences as women and share those experiences with the others. Perhaps they could learn from one another.

This is how, in many different places, the consciousness raising groups began to take shape. Many books came out on the women’s movement, accounts of how women had suffered from the excesses of the power drive in a society controlled by an ethic that resembled a football game: power to the strongest and the toughest, brutal competition, winning is all that matters, and you don’t mind jumping on top of other people to get to the goal line. The general tone of these books by and for -women, however, stressed the victimization of women. Truly, this is how most women felt in those days. When you have been passed over for advancement and a person with a penis but with less experience and less competence than you gets the better, job, how do you feel? Women commiserated with women about how they felt victimized in their families, how they received less attention than boys in school, and how they were discriminated against at work. Supported by their “sisters,’ they began to be more assertive, while looking carefully at their husbands’ or bosses’ faces to see if they were going too far. Despite their resolution when women sat together, it was terribly difficult to claim that forthright aspect of themselves when they were in the company of men. These women understood, intellectually, that they had a right to speak up. Feeling it, feeling it with real conviction, was something else. They could not quite accept the animus in its positive aspects. At this time I became aware that several women in my practice would have what I call a classic animus dream. The gist of it is: I discover that I have a penis! They reacted with anything from dismay to horror.

Meanwhile, men were closing ranks against the first encroachment of women into what they considered their domain. When a woman would make a demand, or seem a bit more assertive than she had been in the past, men would become uneasy, to say the least. Research has shown that those in leading positions tend to exaggerate the numbers and strength of the underlings who first show power. The old boys’ networks strengthened their ties. I have it on good authority that many men actually believed that the women were plotting to take over! They thought that this was what was being dis[1]cussed in the women’s consciousness-raising groups. They would have been quite surprised to find out that there was more talk of victimization and feelings and self-pity than there was of revolution in those early days. The anger of women was directed against those men and those institutions that they characterized as “oppressors.” As long as women concentrated on their weakness and vulnerability and how they were taken advantage of, men had little reason to fear a social upheaval.

Men continued on the same path they had been pursuing, except that they now felt it necessary to throw some bones to quiet the barking dogs. These came in the form of token advancements for women in business, admission of a few more women to faculty positions in universities, and electing an occasional woman to fill a public office vacated by the death of her husband. Still, the feminine aspect of the man was not yet recognized by him. Men continued to project the anima, or soul image, that was buried deep in the psyche upon a woman out in the world. Many men, too proud for the most part to admit it, were also feeling oppressed by the social order and victimized by those who had more power than they had. They had much to cry about, except that Real Men don't cry. Men who kept their wives at home with the children had to work hard as the only breadwinners to supply the family’s needs. Often they had to work for bosses who made unreasonable demands, and in conditions that were less than pleasant. Many had to cope daily with fierce competition. Often they had to put aside their dreams of following a longed-for life path because they were responsible to fulfill their commitments to the women and children in their lives. Often, when they would have loved to sit at home and be with their children, they had, instead, to do the man’s chores around the house, or to work an extra job, or do business out of town. To complain would have been unmanly. At the same time, the negative aspects of the man’s anima envied the woman her righteous anger.

This phase, too, began to pass. In some segments of society, consciousness went through another stage of metamorphosis, again led mostly by women but affecting men as well. This was a stage we could characterize as “androgyny.” Androgyny was the word for the recognition of the psychological capacity within each individual to function freely, utilizing all his or her qualities, including those that had been assigned to the feminine or the masculine gender. It implied acceptance by men of their own feminine side, the anima, and by women of their own masculine side, the animus. I was a very strong supporter of the idea of androgyny in the mid-seventies, and I carried out some research on mythologies from many lands and cultures which described how the world had come into being through the combined efforts of the Masculine and Feminine, embodied in gods and goddesses. This work pointed to an archetypal basis for the equality and cooperation between the Masculine and the Feminine. One could view it either objectively, as referring to events in the world, or subjectively, as referring to the inner contrasexual figures, anima and animus. My book on this subject, Androgyny: The Opposites Within, was an effort to legitimize the presence and positive value of what had formerly been rejected or re[1]pressed. Other books in a similar vein also appeared, signifying a new freedom for men to bring the anima out into the open, and for women to give expression to the animus. This “androgyny’ movement characterized a second stage in the development of the anima/animus concept after Jung. A visible result of this was a minimizing of the differences between the sexes, while the similarities between the two sexes in capacity and potential were maximized. When women took on more responsibility for their own liberation from the prison of gender stereotypes, men began to respect them more. As women talked more openly and freely to men about their feelings and their needs, men found the voice to do the same. Each discovered more commonality with the other than’ they had experienced in the past. Specific gender roles began to break down. As women became more involved in work outside the home, men began to be more active participants in various aspects of family life. Nurturing and providing for the family came to be shared to a greater extent than before. Again, the classic animus dream would be reported by some of my women analysands. I awaken, or look in the mirror, to find that have a penis. But now the reaction is different. It’s more like, “Oh, well, that’s all right. It must, mean that I have some mas[1]culine qualities, and they could be useful.”

However, not all were ready to think of themselves as psychologically androgynous. Women, particularly, now began to fear for their lost femininity. I recall lecturing in the late seventies to a group of women students at an Ivy League university which had just begun to accept women students. These women were pioneers, testing their mettle in a first-rank university that had been open only to male students in the past. To be sure, these women were the daughters of highly successful women, many of whom had been in the avant garde for women’s rights. Their daughters came to my seminar in jeans and cowboy boots, mostly without make-up and rather grungy-looking. After a while I asked them what they wanted or needed to be happy. Several wistfully replied that they were missing their lost femininity. From today’s hindsight, it ap[1]pears to me that these young women were in a place where androgyny was “politically correct” although the phrase had not yet been coined. As androgyny became another gender stereotype, the freedom to be themselves, irrespective of “correctness,” had slipped away.

Another trend now emerged. This was the redemption of the distinctive gifts of the Feminine. Not all women who had ascribed their suffering to oppression by the “male establishment” had found release in the movement toward androgyny. Instead of a redress of the inequality between the sexes, they sought to validate the special experience of women, and to elevate it. The image of patriarchal authority in societies was to be superseded by images of woman-centered societies or goddess cultures. Historians and anthropologists had to go back to a time before the period of recorded history to dis[1]cover evidence of preliterate societies in which women were honored. Uncovered in the ruins of Anatolia and Crete and elsewhere were sculptures of female forms believed to be goddesses. The existence of goddess-cultures was said to be an important feature of a Golden Age some four thousand years B.C.E. A book with the title When God Was a Woman became a best seller.

All this was important for women in the process of reevaluating their feminine side. It was necessary to establish a firm connection with the archetype of the Feminine before the animus could be embraced with less fear, anger or resentment. We must first know who we are and where we have come from before we can risk embracing the lesser-known aspects of our beings. More recently, I have noted that, when women have the classic penis dream, they seem to be quite pleased with the addition to their anatomy!

--June Singer en "Boundaries of the Soul"

[zhnnveuxpasdrmir]

well it sagged after the first two eps. Annoying. It felt mean to put these powerful actors through some of those scenes. It felt like bullying to be shown a thread of 'family' plot that can't even begin to mesh with the character we were told was going to be the focus of this show, and was never going to go anywhere anyway.

It's not the actors' faults! arg

…the end is satisfying at least! Dinofrio is great all the way through, and his scenes with Cox are excellent. Tantoo Cardinal and Graham Greene are… there, so I mean they got paid, that's something. Sigh.

I gave it my best to understand the point behind spookying her character up; I think it would have been a lot better to keep her ancestral thing in the nondisprovable category & use more of the marvel universe (from the books) to add that special effects spice. Honestly the sequences of Maya fucking shit up are excellent because she's not one of the supers, but more of a bruce wayne type that considers powers to be weaknesses but Okay.

It occurred to me eventually too like: why is this called Marvel Spotlight in the titles but Echo in the listings? I'm curious.

A lot of marvel stuff goes like that, doesn't it. The first two eps had me so thrilled! the third was like… oof this is what you did to Luke Cage isn't it, not paying attention to details from the book, rashly changing lore without considering what the change means to a large body of already-existing stories. Stories that are why we know and like the Echo character, you see.

I hate how blatantly stupid big studios are; I hate their bad taste and ham fisted attempts to look smart, I hate the rank simplicity of their come-ons and the tired emptiness of their twists.

It disappointed me badly enough to make me angry at the director and producers before the fourth ep could even unspool. But I'll tell you, the dip in quality was sure not the fault of Alaqua Cox. Her acting and athletics are both entirely on point - she emotes that terrible prideful defensive rage at looking on a loved one that only some of the audience would ever have the experience to understand. She believably kicks multiple asses & looks comfortable with tech. Her face is so fresh and perfect for right now, she's a rare beauty! But they want to make her a role model according to the Disney mode, out of "respect". Or whatever. Absolutely typical. As is putting the angelic Zahn McClarnon in yet another compromised crook role. How do casting directors keep seeing something terrible in this man? It's getting irritating to be honest! It would be nice to see McClarnon play a good guy before I die. Something other than a fucking symbol. They always want him to be a symbol. I bet he'd do amazing work as a fucking person.

To be honest I don't see Disney properly using the Echo character with all her real power (which is being unhinged and driven), ever, in anything, without fucking it up. If we ever see her again I expect they'll be nerfing her by giving her yet more powers - as if Kahhori isn't right there already - and or by doing one of those dumb girlpower cameo poses next to CGI Paltrow.

The point of Echo's amorality isn't to make her a "super neutral" it's to demonstrate that the white heroes have nothing to pressure her with. Echo doesn't believe in the Avengers, because she's not an idiot or a schoolchild. She doesn't tap into any metaphysical power of "goodness", she doesn't share in the hackneyed 1950s white pretend-world that white heroes get the comfort of trusting in & returning to. Echo being changed into a Choctaw would have been a good move if they'd done it in a responsible & intelligent fashion. She could have been dangerous to the comfort of Avenger types - she could've given Matt Murdock something to think about while kicking his ass.

We could have seen a capable and unstoppable woman who's aware of the truth about justice in the american way.

I have no idea if it's so but I have this sense there was something in there that got cut out while production proceeded. Disney clearly didn't want to talk about the hard questions raised in the first episode. The choice of making her Ndn clearly wasn't intended to speak honestly about real issues. I can understand it, since they're directly responsible for so much of the horror and abuse suffered by Ndn people in this real world.

holy shit Echo is the best marvel thing, hands down

agrees with the comics, has actually smart MCU tie ins, has that exciting energy the first two seasons of Daredevil had, and MAYA IS COOL AS HELL

all episodes will be available for pirating at your torrent site of choice in a couple hours yet!

[sukirichi]

happy little accidents

— Life is a series of unfortunate events, but sometimes, there are happy little accidents.

REQUEST. (accidental pregnancy, fuck buddies au) + childhood friends to lovers + baby moments with father! megumi

CONTENT/WARNINGS. slight smut, slight exhibitionism (I think? there’s a CCTV lmao) just daddy megumi uwu

NOTES. hi anon, thank you for requesting and joining the event! I have to admit...I don’t really know how to write this and I just had to ask my mother about her experiences in pregnancy LMAO. I apologize in advance if this sucks, I’m pretty good at fluff but domestic and cute stuff with children isn’t my expertise asggkhl I’m awkward around babies and kids so anyways, I hope you like it! OH AND ALSO I HAVE A CAMEO LMAO

Megumi’s hands runs up under your shirt, bringing about a shiver forward when his cold fingers come into with your warm skin. You feel him smile onto the kiss, his grip nothing but teasing before he brushes the underside of your breast, prompting you to grip closer to his hoodie. You and him were childhood friends; having always liked one another until playing house was no longer a game a but dream, but his family was too strict and controlling – they’ve made it clear long ago this relationship could never and would never happen.

His Uncle Naoya made sure of it.

But that didn’t stop the both of you. All the way from highschool until now in your university days, you and Megumi are still stuck together by the hip, occasionally fucking whenever time allowed. Weekdays are spent staring longingly at each other in the hallways, the weekends flourishing into finally’s and hushed kisses under the sheets, completely unaware of the world you both trudged in.

Today was one of those days, and you’re nothing less of passionate as you swipe your tongue out to taste his lips, smiling when you realize he’s also grown used to wearing your mint flavoured lip balm. “Mhm, Megumi, I missed you,” you placed your legs beside his arms, a contented sigh entering his mouth as he closed his eyes.

“You miss me? I’m always around you,” he reminds you, pulling away momentarily to tug your shirt to the side where he leaves a soft patch of kisses. “Never gonna leave your side, baby.”

“You better not. I’m the best you’ll ever have.”

Megumi nods wholeheartedly in agreement, not wasting time before he pulls you closer to him. You’re almost weightless as you crash on top of him, hands tangled into the other’s hair and his large palm squeezing your breast. It produces a breathy moan from you, a thread of saliva connecting your lips when it comes again – that hellish bitter and sour bile that flows up to your throat. You push yourself off him and run to the bathroom, the content of your stomachs poured while your groans echo around the room.

He’s beside you in an instant, crouching beside you to pull your hair up and pat your back. Once you’ve finished throwing up, you clutch at the indistinguishable bloating of your stomach, leaning back into his touch while you slowly regain your composure.

Your head is throbbing uncomfortably again, one that wouldn’t go away no matter how much you press your thumbs against it.

“Wh-what’s wrong? Are you sick or something?”

You chuckle a bit from the way he frets over you, hands tilting your cheeks side to side while he pales, a sheen of worry visible on his hairline. He’s always been such a worrywart. You look behind him and see the box of condoms in your half-open medicine cabinet, the sight making your heart drop in your chest.

“Megs...when was the last time we had sex?”

“Well,” he scratches the back of his head, “We’ve both been busy from uni, so...last month, I guess? It’s been a long time.”

You swallowed audibly. You’ve recently gotten that box of condoms because if you remember correctly, last time you both skipped straight to the deed after realizing you ran out of it. Eyes flicking over his confused ones, your throat ran dry and itchy from the throw up session, your voice low as you say, “I’m three weeks late on my period, Megs.”

He looks just as shocked as you are, but he doesn’t give you the time to recover before he rushes out into your apartment. For a moment, you’re left heartbroken at the cold bathroom tiles, thinking that he left, but Megumi comes back a few minutes later, a pregnancy test kit and some chocolates inside a plastic bag. Your eyes widen when he gently ushers you to sit on the toilet, his feet tapping impatiently on the floor while you both wait for the result.

And there it is.

The timer on his phone goes off. Megumi rushes beside you, his chin resting on your shoulder as he blinks at the test kit. He turns to you and blinks in question, wondering what the hell it meant.

“’Gumi...it’s positive,” you cry out, sending him into a stagger backwards when you jump at him. Thankfully, he’s carried you too many times to count that he’s natural at hoisting you into his arms, still rendered speechless as you announce, “You’re going to be a dad!”

It’s been five whole months since you and Megumi turned into being stable fuck buddies, intent on hiding your relationship from both your families, into homeless and young parents whose fear over life and the future only increased tenfold now with the growing baby inside you.

You still remember that dreadful moment when both of you are kicked out into your family estate, Megumi’s Uncle Naoya especially enraged over the news. He doesn’t even give his nephew a chance to pack his bags before he signals the bodyguards to escort you out, then takes away all Megumi’s privileges and former luxury of being part of the Zenin Clan. You assume he’d want to strangle his pitiful Uncle for the never ending mistreatment, but your now boyfriend is nothing but happy, relieved that he’s been freed from the tight reins that always got in both your way.

Unbeknownst to the controlling Zenin Clan head, his wife is much more cunning than he is. He knows his wife always had some sorts of tricks hidden up in her sleeve, but even you were surprised when Megumi’s Aunt Suki shows up in your college dorm one day, throwing a set of keys your way with a wink before driving off back to become Naoya’s beloved trophy wife.

She lent you one of her high-estate apartments and even a humble car, silently wiring fees into your bank account since Megumi’s was already shut down.

Truly, if it wasn’t for her, you and Megumi wouldn’t be able to live this comfortably no matter how much both of you worked your ass off.

Now, none of you had to worry about not getting to make ends meet, no more worrying about putting your health at risk by working two jobs a day along with university – you and Megumi agreed to take advantage of her kindness just until the baby was born, opting to live quietly and comfortably in your shared home that would soon be filled with more memories. Well, as comfortably as you both could anyway, since pregnancy – although a beautiful experience – wasn’t always rainbows and unicorns.

Megumi comes home one day, the food you’ve always been craving from the Chinese restaurant from the other town present inside his bag. He’s tired from uni, even more so that he shares your burden of becoming new parents, but every time he comes home to you, all his exhaustion is wiped away, especially with the evident growth of your belly.

Your boyfriend runs up to you after placing the food on the counter, his arms wide open to get a hug – he’s gotten extremely touchy ever since the pregnancy – when you reel away from him, face turning green.

Your fingers come to pitch at your nose, eyes narrowed at his confused pout. “Ugh, Megumi, your deodorant stinks.”

“You were the one who got this for me, though,” his brows furrow as he lifts his sleeve up to sniff himself. He doesn’t smell bad... “You said you liked it on me,” he mumbles more to himself than you, staying still in his spot when he sees how colourless you’ve become. “Why are you looking at me like that? I showered today.”

“I can’t stand the smell of you, I can’t, gosh,” pushing past him, you rush to the toilets, the morning sickness well present all the way until sundown as you throw up. Megumi stands at the doorway, hands extended in front of him as he’s unsure whether he could help you or not. You firmly shake your head at him, lips turned into a sneer. “No, don’t get near me or I will honestly whack you with my purse, Megumi. Get rid of that deodorant and find a scent free one or something.”

Megumi is left with a slack jaw when you hop into bed afterwards, too tired and irritated to finish your papers. Seeing that he should probably do the same and pamper you instead, Megumi is silent as he crawls under the covers, only to be kicked out with a harsh kick to his thigh and a fiery, “Get out!”

“Nobara,” he whines into the phone, too fearful to even look at the bedroom at the thought that you’d feel his gaze and get even angrier. Your instincts and senses sharpens with each passing day; he won’t risk it. “My girlfriend hates me!”

“I could see why.”

Megumi groans at his friend’s flippant tone, the sound of a nail file grazing acrylics mixed with lo-fi music playing from the other line. “I’m serious – she doesn’t even want me a foot near her! When I tried to join her on the bed, she literally woke up just to hit me with a pillow. Right in the face!”

“Let me guess, you’re banned from the bedroom and staying on the couch?”

“Yeah, I am,” he sulks on the couch, “I don’t know why she hates me. I can’t imagine what I did wrong.”

“You don’t have to do anything wrong for a pregnant woman to hate you, Fushiguro. It’s not your fault your face is just really annoying,” Megumi makes a sound of protest before slapping a hand over his lips, nervous gaze darting at your door again. He relaxes into the seat; you’ve probably fallen asleep. “But on a more serious note, I think it’s the hormones. She’s erratic right now and you can’t blame her, she’s literally growing a child inside of her, dude, are you crying?”

“She might divorce me because of my deodorant.”

“Idiot, you two aren’t even married!” Nobara bellows loud enough that Megumi pulls the phone away from his ear, waiting until she’s calmed down and continues speaking like she didn’t just burst his ear drums. “Listen, just be extra sweet and careful around her, okay? Don’t open your mouth as well unless you want to die. Now get a notepad or something, we’re going to devise the best Baby Mama Seduction Plan that is guaranteed to win her heart.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Nobara!”

“Hmph, you owe me tickets to that fashion show though. Get your rich ass uncle to pull some connections or something.”

“Nobara, you know I can’t—”

“Oh shit, is that your girl about to kick you in the face?” Megumi yelps as his body flips at the direction of your room, both hands raised in surrender with his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. He sighs – the door is still closed – he should be safe for now. Meanwhile, Nobara snickers cockily, almost as if she could see everything. As always, Nobara was triumphant. “That’s right, we both don’t want that to happen, so stick to your end of the deal man.”

Megumi stays up the whole night to execute Nobara’s plan. It’s tiring to run back and forth in the open convenience stores just to fill the fridge up with all your favourite food, but Megumi is determined to have you accept him again, even if he knows you’re not actually rejecting him.

By the time you’ve woken up, all beautiful and glowing as you pad out your room, Megumi stands up straight to conceal his body ridden with exhaustion. He just wants to make you happy.

“What’s all this?”

“You’ve been working hard,” he starts off unsurely, a hand scratching the back of his head as he gauges for your reaction. You plop down on the dining table and don’t scowl as you take a whiff of the food, blinking for a few seconds before you dig in. It’s enough for him to take as a go-signal, and he walks beside you carefully, his voice wavering and soft. “I just wanted to surprise you – show you how much I love and admire you...all that.”

“That’s suspicious,” you mouth through a mouthful of dumpling, but smile anyways with your arms extended. “Come here, give me a kiss.”

Megumi is beyond elated as he buries himself in the warmth of your arms again, sighing when you kiss his cheeks and jaw. “Are we good?”

“Did you replace your deodorant?”

“Yes...”

“Good boy,” you kiss him on the lips this time. Megumi has the audacity to blush as if he didn’t just fuck a baby into you, making you laugh before you slap his ass, last night’s irration now replaced with a reminder that this was Megumi – your first love and everything more. There was no way you wouldn’t be ‘good’ with him; you’d go to heavens and back for him, but maybe once you’re done birthing his child. “Yeah, we’re good. Get the mint choco ice cream pint for me?” Megumi sprints to perform your commands, and you reward him by pulling him in for a deeper kiss the time, his lips so sweet and minty. You can’t help but sigh, falling for him over and over again. “You’re such a sweetheart, Megs. This is why I’m head over heels for you.”

“You didn’t want me sleeping beside you for a week straight though.”

Your nose scrunches at the memory – that slight change in your expression making Megumi step back – as you wave a spoon at him, glaring at him in warning. “Like I said, you stank.”

But...pregnancy wasn’t all that bad for the both of you. There were times you’re unable to keep your hands off him. Although unexpected and mostly occurring in the most inconvenient situations, Megumi can’t say he’s complaining, especially not when you push him towards the wall just as the elevator doors closed.

“Daddy,” you moan, guiding his hands into your already soaking wet panties. Megumi breathes sharply as he cups your drenching core, wondering how you’ve gotten this aroused without him doing anything sexual in particular.

The nickname spilling past your lips is unforeseen though, as is his growing kink for it when he hardens immediately.  

“Please, please, please, I need you so much – make me feel good, will you?”

Megumi has to pin your needy, trailing hands all over his chest down to your sides, his pupils blown wide as the elevator ascends from one floor to the other. His eyes dart to the blinking red light from the cameras, his Adam’s apple bobbing when you don’t stop in the slighthest, only leaning forward to tug and nip at the skin of his neck. Megumi groans at your ministrations; you know very well that was his sensitive spot. “Y/N, we’re literally in the elevator, just wait until we get back home—”

When Megumi tries to push you away to stop your hands from palming his boner, you growl, eyes fierce and heated as you turn to him. “Do you want me to chop your dick off and prevent you from having a second child?”

“N-no.”

“Then shut up and fuck me.”

“Fuck, okay, don’t blame me if I make you sore, though.”

You roll your eyes at him, your hands moving expertly as you bunch your skirt up to your waist to show him that your bud was already swollen just for him. “Megumi, my boobs are already are its most sore point, I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

Megumi makes quick work of shoving his pants down just to his knees, gentle yet needy as he pushes your chest flat on the walls, round and perky ass puckered for him to take you already. He could cum just from the sight of you bending over for him like this, your arousal already dripping down your thighs as you wiggle your hips at him, breathless in the desire to be taken once more.

There were still fifteen floors to go before you reached your destination. Megumi’s brows pinch together in anxiety that anyone could press for the lift, but you’re also submissively bent over for him, moaning and gasping his name even when it’s only the tip of his cock sliding into you.

He sees the way your fingers hover over the buttons, clearly more prepared to shut the doors and deny others entry than he was, and he thinks fuck it to himself before he buries himself deep into you, head thrown back at the heavenly and salacious feeling of fucking you raw. You’re somehow warmer and tighter, wetter with puffier lips during your second trimester. Just as he blanches at the thought he could hurt you, he remembers the doctor’s encouragement of more sex. Being the good boyfriend he is, Megumi fucks hard into you, groaning and panting when your walls clamp down on him.

He only wants to help you.

Days of rubbing your feet and singing to your belly were gone – now replaced with laughter pouring into your house and switching from listening to Mother Mother into actually enjoying nursery rhymes playing from the stereo.

It feels just like yesterday when he rushes you to the emergency room, your hand nearly crushing his during your contractions before you gave birth to his child.

Megumi has never really been much of an emotional person, preferring to be calm and stoic unless you’re around; the rare times he actually lets his walls down. Surrounded by a group of doctors, though, Megumi stops caring about saving face when they hand him his daughter. He isn’t the least bit embarrassed when he sobs upon seeing the tiny bundle of joy in his arms, so small and vulnerable that promised there and then – he’d do everything he can to protect his child and give them the best future.

Fushiguro Megumi is a hands-down helicopter dad. The moment you’re able to take your daughter back home, he’s already had the whole house baby proofed. Along with studying for his exams, he’s also switching back and forth to parenting guide books.

You can tell he’s taking his job as a dad very seriously. Megumi doesn’t hesitate to shoot out of the bed in the middle of the night whenever he hears his daughter cry, racing you to her crib while he rocks her back and forth and you prepare her milk. You’re both utterly tired and sleep deprived, your head resting on his shoulder as your baby calms down in his arms. Faintly, you feel him kiss the top of your head, encouraging you to go back to sleep with the assurance he can handle it.

But of course, you’re the stubborn parent, and you drag your boyfriend and daughter back to bed, making sure there was enough space to make her comfortable before falling asleep.

Being a parent – especially with the love of your life – has never felt any more magical.

Of course, it was hard and definitely not a walk in the park, but it was worth it. Every time you came home from school, Megumi would already be there, his daughter babbling nonsensically in his arms while he prepared her meals. At the sounds of the door opening, both of them would run to you, showering you with kisses while you did the same.

Both your families have still refused to accept you back – not that you both minded – but it was getting shameful to keep relying on his relative to provide for your family. Eventually, you and Megumi decided that the other stays to take care of your baby while you work after class.

You’re staggering inside your home like a zombie after a long day, muscles aching from too much work and brain barely functioning due to the lack of sleep. With a long, drawn out sigh, you plop on the couch next to your boyfriend who jolts back awake, still careful not to let his drooling daughter wake up in his arms. Upon seeing it’s just you, Megumi leans over to kiss you on the nose, smelling sweetly of floral detergent powder and baby cologne.

“Welcome home,” he murmurs at your skin, your eyes already fluttering close at the comfort and warmth of home. “Scarlet is fast asleep. She couldn’t wait for you to kiss her goodnight anymore.”

“Don’t be dramatic. Mommy will always come home to the two most precious people in the world,” Now, it’s your turn to kiss Megumi to remind him he’s also doing a great job. You know he’s working just as hard you are, and you honestly don’t think you could do this without him. “Megumi,” you begin, tracing soft circles into his wrist to feel his lulling heartbeat.

“Hmm?”

“Have I ever told you I loved you?”

“I think I know that already,” he smiles romantically at you – even after years, you’re still very much smitten with that smile, and the sight of him and your daughter alone has you relaxing back in your seat.

“Yes, but you need to hear it again,” you tell him, cupping his face into your palms. Megumi sighs as he leans closer into your warmth, his hands patting your daughter’s back to soothe her in her slumber. “You’re such a natural at this – being a father. I’m really lucky I had a family with you. It’s all I ever wanted,” Burying yourself closer into his arms and collecting the both of them into an embrace, you smile into his shoulder, feeling like you’re on cloud nine. “I don’t think life is gonna get better than this, Megs. I’m so happy right now I feel like I could die.”

“Don’t say the d-word around her,” he jokes, the two of you sharing tired and dry laughter. Once the amusement subsides, Megumi’s other hand shifts to squeeze your thigh to get your attention. “Y/N...do you ever think about...making us official?”

“What do you mean?” you mumble sleepily, “How else official could we get? We live together and we have a baby. Soon, we’re going to be employed too and then we can provide better for her and stop relying on Aunt Suki so much,” Megumi nods above you, but his lack of response is worrying that you look up to him, frowning as you see that his face is pulled deep into thought. “We’re already a family, Megs. What’s on your mind?”

“I want to marry you,” he blurts out, “I want to make you mine and mine only – I see a future and a forever with you,” Megumi looks you straight in the eye the whole time. “Marry me, Y/N. Please.”

You’re rendered speechless.

You love him so much, you really do, and nothing about that will change. After spending a lifetime with you, Megumi knows just by looking at your face that there’s a but coming afterward and he clenches his jaw, sadness swirling in his eyes that you have to stop him before his thoughts run off again. “I want that too, Megumi, believe me,” you reassure, brushing his hair back with your fingers; a gesture that always pulled him back to you. “I just don’t want to rush things, you know? We can still barely stand on our own and we have Scarlet to worry about. I think we should focus more on her future than ours.”

Megumi nods, albeit disappointed, though this doesn’t stop him from kissing you straight on the lips before he mutters, “I understand but...think about it, at least?”

“You already know my answer would be yes.”

“Scarlet! I wonder where my little princess is hiding,” Megumi announces from outside your room, your toddler giggling beside you as you both hide behind the closet hand-in-hand. Four years later, you and Megumi are married, and life’s gotten a lot easier – in addition to it being a whole lot more domestic since Megumi takes his husband title just as seriously as being a father. Right now, he’s crawling outside, his voice lowered in an attempt to be scary. “If I find her, she’s going to face the wrath of the tickle monster!”

“Tickle monster!” Scarlet gasps beside you, turning to you with wide eyes. “Mummy, I don’t want tickles!”

“Then we better be quiet so Daddy doesn’t find us!”

With your voice intentionally louder than a whisper, it doesn’t take long before Megumi opens the closet doors, carrying you both effortlessly before dropping you all down onto the bed. “I found you!” You all tickle each other and laugh, your daughter falling into panicked squeals while you chortle at the side. Megumi then hoists Scarlet up before the both of you kiss both sides of her cheeks, sending the giggling child into an utter ticklish mess.

While the two are busy tickling one another, you feign a gasp, clutching at your husband’s bicep.  “Megumi!” your eyes widen, pointing deftly at the kitchen with trembling lips for effect. “Can you please check the oven – I think I left something in there and it might be burning!”

“I don’t smell anything,” is all he says, but runs there anyway. Megumi stands in front of in confusion, Scarlet safely bundled in his arms while her father opens the oven, frowning as he takes the object out and inspects it. “Mittens? But Scarlet is already—” Just then, Megumi’s jaw drops, his grin stretched wide while Scarlet keeps poking at the mittens, trying to make them fit into her slightly larger hands. “No way. Another one?”

“Another candy?”

You laugh at Megumi’s beaming face that matches his daughter’s – the two looking too much alike – but for completely opposite reasons. “We’ll get you all the candies you want, sweetheart,” you swipe a candy from the counter and hand it to your daughter’s grabby hands, pecking Megumi’s cheeks who is still beyond flustered at the announcement. “But yeah we have another one – and it’s a boy!”

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Hi i just read your work and it is amazing!!!! Buuut, if its possible can you make a part 2 of Scraps? Like, the first one was so good... it kinda needs a sequel😂😂 if thats possible

Had to think about what I would write for a little bit, but I think I've got it.

Scraps (Part 2): Rindou Haitani, Ran Haitani, Kakucho Hitto, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Manjiro Sano, Hajime Kokonoi, and Takeomi Akashi x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.9k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

song recommendation:

A pussy clenching, breath hitching, thighs squeezing mess.

That's what you're reduced to as you're in class, the soundless, dual vibrator/clit sucking device hidden neatly in your underwear.

Ever since you'd been introduced to the Alpha boys, they'd made you their personal plaything. And you didn't really mind; it was something to do when things got boring around the sorority house. But sometimes... they'd take their experiments out of your scope of knowledge.

This was one of them.

You were given the toy and told that if you could hold off on cumming for twelve hours, you'd be rewarded with whatever you wanted. But you couldn't take it out, you couldn't tell anyone - oh, and you didn't know who had the remote to it. The device is only controlled by a discreet, white remote, and any one of the seven men could have it, changing the speed or the pattern of vibrations of the device. Right now, it's on a pulsing cycle, making you squirm slightly in your seat as the professor lectures about art history.

You're sitting in the very back of the lecture hall where no one would sit if they wanted to pass the class. But you're content with today being an off-day. You need to survive this challenge, first.

You can't help but think of the various dicks that would be yours for the choosing once you finish today's challenge. But it's only ten o'clock.

Ten more hours.

Around twelve, you're trying your best to keep yourself calm, sitting on the edge of your seat while you attempt a test. The speed changes from pulsing to a dull vibration, giving you a brief break from the jolts of pleasure that go straight to your clit.

"Ms. Y/n, can you come up to my desk, please? Bring your test." You look up at your professor, who is cooking her finger at you. For a moment, you wonder if she's caught on to your little predicament, but when you approach her desk, she takes your test and crumples it up before throwing it in the trash, much to your surprise. "I forgot to tell you that you have an A in the class, so you don't need to take this test." You sigh in relief, just as the vibration changes to a more intense sensation. You tense up, clenching your legs before thanking your professor and leaving the classroom quickly.

You can't take much more of this.

Around three pm, you're laying in the sorority house, face down in a pillow as you moan, the feeling of an orgasm building on top of the other six or seven ruined orgasms from earlier. But you stuff this one down with the others, tears decorating your pillowcase as you sob in frustration.

Five more hours.

_____________________________________________________________

At six o'clock, you're at your breaking point.

Dinner is at seven, but you can't even focus on anything except the buzzing between your legs. You're hazy, staring at yourself in the mirror and blinking slowly. There had been no relief, no naps, no rest from the torment, but the pink device inside of you persisted, making you want to cum over and over again. All you can do is think about algebra or something disappointing to prevent yourself from cumming all over the device and losing the challenge.

Suddenly, your phone begins to chime, and you raise it to your face, seeing "Alpha House" on the screen.

"Hello?" you breathe into the receiver, and you hear a chuckle on the other end.

"Are you okay, princess?" It's Mikey. The vibrator begins to pulse again, and you bite your lip.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. What's going on?"

"Come by the house at seven-thirty. The boys are excited to see you." Mikey hangs up the phone and you stifle a loud moan, trying to keep yourself together before you meet the boys.

One hour left.

At seven-thirty, you're standing at the door of the house, and the vibrator is going crazy. You almost didn't make it across the campus without your legs going weak, but you prop yourself up against the door with a hand, quivering at you wait for the boys to answer the door.

"Little sister..." Ran answers the door, his violet eyes observing your quaking figure. "You made it." You try to step through the door, but Ran catches you in his arms, stooping to pick you up. He holds you against his chest, cooing into your ear about how you're such a good girl, and how they're going to take good care of you before the night is over. You're deposited in the den, where the other guys are, and Ran parts your legs with tender fingers, revealing the device nestled inside of your panties.

"All day, huh?" Sanzu wonders, sitting across from you on the couch and stroking your thigh. "You're such a good girl for us. Kakucho, Rindou, and Kokonoi didn't think you would make it."

"We placed bets," Rindou explains, forking his cash over to his brother with a small sigh. "But you proved me wrong." Mikey appears, his black eyes roaming over all of those present in the room before sliding and focusing on your half-dazed self on the couch, legs spread and shaking.

"Ready to guess who had the remote today?" You nod, breath quivering as you look around the room at the men. Your first bet would be on Sanzu, but you figure guessing him would be too obvious. Your second guess would be Rindou, but he also seemed like the most obvious. So you're left with Kakucho, Kokonoi, Mikey, Takeomi, and Ran. "You get three guesses."

Three guesses. Five men.

"M-Mikey?" Various members of the frat shake their heads. Of course, Mikey wouldn't, he just comes up with the ideas. Takeomi seems almost too bored with you, so he's off the list, too. Two guesses and four men. A twenty-five percent chance of getting it right.

"Kakucho?" He shakes his head, leaning on the back of a chair and blinking slowly.

"One more guess."

Kokonoi or Ran. Fifty-percent chance of getting it right. Kokonoi had a class with you today, but you didn't see him move his hands around as you watched from the back of the class at all. But the sensation also didn't change during the class. You have to take a chance, though.

"Ran." The violet-eyed man smiles, then produces the white remote from his pants.

"Smart girl."

"But how--"

"On Wednesdays, my work-study has me all over campus. Every time I saw you or walked by the sorority house, I'd change the vibration." Sanzu chuckles then looks at his watch.

"It's time, ain't it?" Mikey pulls your underwear off, leaving the lacy thing on the floor before looking at the device, then back at you.

"You earned yourself some extra credit," he begins. "Are you ready for us, pretty girl?"

"Yes," you keen, jerking your hips up. "Yes, I am."

"Good." Mikey slides the vibrator out of you and puts it up to your lips so you can taste yourself. You suck the device slowly, fingers coming down to caress your swollen clit as you suck your juices off of it.

After this, he stands you up and bends you over the back of the couch, feeling a large, warm pair of hands on your hips. "I'm not going last this time," Takeomi mutters, pants down around his ankles. "Been waiting for this all day." You're more than prepared to take his length, your pussy squelching and sucking his cock into you. "Fuck, yeah..." The slapping sounds of your backside against Takeomi's hips begin, and you moan, feeling the relief of a cock filling you up.

The other six just watch, some with their dicks out, others palming themselves over their pants. Mikey, as usual, is standing at the back of the room, watching the scene before him with crossed arms. This is his foreplay.

He enjoys watching and listening to you squeal more than anything. He enjoys having control over six men who will bend you over and use you as a willing cum dump if necessary, like a breeder who requires his bulls to try their luck with you, the lone heifer.

And it's pleasurable enough for you to keep coming back for more.

"Why don't we record this one?" Sanzu wonders and Takeomi laughs.

"You're gonna have to ask little sister, here. She might not--"

"That-that's fine," you pant.

"Just a little POV thing," Ran adds, pulling out his phone. "Make it real nice, Takeomi." You look back and watch the man inside of you point the phone at the space between your hips, watching his cock go in and out of you with a smile on his face.

"Look at that pussy... she's creaming all over my cock..."

And each frat brother waits his turn to cum in you, with Ran's being the most you've ever felt inside of you at one time, and Sanzu's being the roughest. Kokonoi is taking his turn when you feel cum sliding down your leg, and when he's done, cum drains out of you in a small flood. Your fingers, which have been running over your clit and bringing you close to climaxing, are covered in it, and you want so desperately to stick them inside of yourself and then suck them dry.

Kakucho takes his time bringing you pleasure, tweaking your nipples, and running his tongue down your back and up again. You suppose someone else is filming you two, because both of his hands are on your body as he pumps you full of cum, ghosting his fingers over the slight bulge from his long cock.

Rindou is last, and you watch Mikey pull out his own cock, stroking it while Rin slams his hips into you, making you moan louder than you thought possible. He grips your neck from behind, choking you lightly as you let drool run past your lips and onto the couch. You hear Ran complimenting his brother on his fucking, and your raise on your tiptoes, praying his dick would stop slamming into your cervix.

"Take it," Rin whispers in your ear. "You can take it, sweet girl." You choke out a cry, then grip the couch for all it's worth as Rindou lets himself go. When he pulls out, Mikey stands, his eyes focused on your face as he walks around the couch, taking the phone from Ran and pointing it at your filled and abused pussy.

"Push it all out for me, sweetheart." You obey, feeling the cum leak out of you rapidly before Mikey stands, swiping his cockhead over your pussy lips. "You haven't cum yet?" You shake your head, breathing heavily. "Go ahead and cum on my dick." Mikey enters you and fiddles with your swollen clit, bringing you back to the edge and not relenting. You get no warning prior to the orgasm crashing over you; the feeling of release almost taking you out.

"Oh my fucking god," you cry out, and Mikey pistons his hips a little faster as you clench around him.

"That's a good pussy," he grunts, left hand gripping your hip while he cums inside of you, growling low in his throat. When he's done, he backs away, watching you push out his cum, too. "Now I want you to get on the floor and lick it up," he orders you. "Lick all of our cum up."

You get on your knees and lick the puddle off the polished wooden floor, each man watching you with slack jaws. When you're done, you show Mikey your tongue. He approaches you, grabs your throat, and spits in it, closing your mouth as you swallow that, too.

"Such a good little slut, aren't you?"

[ddarker-dreams]

Buds of Marigold. Yan Childe x Reader x Yan Scaramouche

Warnings: Implied forced marriage, unhealthy relationships, depictions of anxiety, darling threatening violence against someone, mild not SFW implications.  Word count: 2.5k.

“I never thought the day would come where I’d be so stumped,” Ying’er runs her fingers over glass bottles of essential oils and varying plant nectars. “For such an important customer too… everything needs to be perfect.”

You don’t lift your eyes from the task in your hands, scrubbing valiantly at a stain blemishing an incense pot. To affirm you have been listening, even if you won’t spare her a glance until you’ve finished cleaning, you hum with a rising intonation. Ying’er sinks to the ground with all the grace of a drunken sailor, sniffling in a final attempt to pry out your sympathy.

She hobbles over to where you’re sitting and places her head on your lap. Your body tenses at the sudden touch, but you steady your breathing before it can get noticeable.

“Oh, almighty Yun, the lost Archon of fragrances, have thee no pity for thy devout follower,” Ying’er lifts the back of her hand and presses it against her forehead in a show of unparalleled theatrics. The sight does as she intended, a light giggle leaving your lips at the impromptu melodrama. Her timing lines up well as the stubborn grime you were fighting finally concedes.

You place the incense pot aside and sheepishly pat her head. “Ying’er, how are you going to learn if I give you the answers every time?”

“By your ingenious example!” She exclaims, jutting out her lower lip into a pout. “I’ve already picked out the base, I just need a little nudging in the right direction for the top and mid notes.”

Your eyes soften and your heart is strum with conviction. You soothe your grumbling friend by stroking her hair, humming a soft tune, all the while feeling somewhat baffled by your growth thus far. A few moons ago, you couldn’t have pictured allowing yourself to be touched like this by anyone. It wouldn’t matter how innocent the contact was. The moment someone got too close for comfort, you were willing to reduce them to nothing but a pile of cinders.

You pause your ministrations and sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll help you compose your perfume. This is the last time though, okay?”

Ying’er ailments seemingly vaporize into the air at your begrudging assistance. She shoots up from her kneeling position like her feet were coiled springs, an overflow of gratitude fumbling past her lips.

“You’re the best, Yun,” she praises and pinches your cheek, much to your chagrin. “Now that I’ve won you over with my charms, how about—”

The front door’s chimes ring, alerting you both of someone entering. You two exchange a look of confusion, as Scent of Spring is closed for the day, the oil lanterns extinguished and doors locked. Your finger twitches by your side in anticipation. Ying’er is blissfully ignorant to your Vision and subsequent ability to command forward a blade, a façade you wish to sustain.

“I’ll handle it,” Ying’er says before you can contemplate your options another second. You nod, an unspoken appreciation etched onto your countenance. The details of your circumstances were purposefully murky and she never presses. Whatever conclusions Ying’er has come to, you prefer it stays that way, not wanting to upset the delicate balance that is your current life.

You straighten out her collar which had wrinkled. “Call me if anything’s wrong.”

Ying’er winks reassuringly and presses her hands over yours, the touch featherlight. “I’m a fearsome opponent, no one would dare cross me.”

Let’s hope that’s true, you think. Frowning, you observe her retreating figure, taking caution to remain out of sight. Ying’er steps out of the backroom, the thick wooden door closing loudly behind her. You keen your ears to listen, cursing internally over how the thick walls muffle their voices. Her voice is one you instantly recognize, but the other belongs to someone with a deeper timbre. Your boss is an elderly woman, so that rules her out. A Millieth, perhaps?

You’re not left waiting for long, much to your relief. Ying’er pops her head back in a few minutes later.

“It was just a returning customer who was pleased with his latest commission, the one you helped me with no less. He had nothing but high praises for it!”

Waves of relief crash over you, but your senses remain on high alert.

“I’m happy to hear that. Still, how did he manage to get in? Didn’t you lock up for the night?” You inquire, hoping you don’t sound overly paranoid. In the back of your mind, you can’t fully discount the idea that it’s him, the thought alone enough to have you shaking in place.

“Must’ve forgotten or something,” she shrugs. You let out a breath you were holding in at her nonchalance, it seems plausible given her airheaded nature. “By the way, Yun, can we work on the perfume in the morning? I just realized how tired I am.”

“Of course. It has been a long day... I’ll finish things up here, go home and get some rest.”

Ying’er waves and wishes you a good night.

It’s now your turn to slump onto the ground, grasping your chest when your knees hit the floor. Deep breaths, deep breaths, you tell yourself. Everything is going to be okay.

This peaceful existence that you’ve fought tooth and nail to build for yourself… the only way it could ever get be stolen from your hands is if air no longer filled your lungs. Your fingers travel underneath the foreign fabric of your Liyue garments, the warmth of your pulsating Vision giving you solace. Tending to the last few chores, your subconscious drifts elsewhere, to an island beyond the sea. What is it you would be doing this time of day again? Ironically enough, you realize you’d be working with incense as you are now, but for different reasons. The reason you excel with curating incense to produce the best aroma is because you were trained to do so.

Your work now is your lifeblood, giving you enough to scrape by undetected. Those days, however, were a different story. It constituted survival like now, but to a far more humiliating degree. It was expected of you to perform your duties with grace and discipline. You would retire early to your shared chambers, prepare and burn your husband’s favorite incense, and fuss over your appearance in the vanity. Then you would loosen the sash of your obi, just enough so that if it had been a frustrating day, he could lose himself in your body for a momentary escape. Those customs had been ingrained into your mind. Had you needed to, you’re certain you could’ve done everything with your eyes closed from memory.

You head for the back exit. Surely, your past self would be thrilled to know your meticulous plans had come to fruition. All those smiles through gritted teeth, submissive language, and patience that could rival that of a god… everything was worth it.

Now you’re no longer the number Six of the Fatui's Eleven Harbingers’ spouse. You’ve taken the identity of Yun, a Visionless worker for a perfume shop in Liyue, everyday defined by freedom. To do as you please, go where you please, speak to who you please. The little details that were stolen from you by his hands return like tentative buds in spring.

You’ve yet to fully assimilate with Liyue’s cuisine, but it’s steadily growing on you. Maybe you’ll make an Inazuma-inspired dish tonight? In the months that have passed, you’ve found a taste for your nation’s food coming back. So as not to repeat Ying’er’s mistake, you double-check the backdoor’s locks, finding it is as it should be. Behind the humble shop is an alley which you use to creep back home. It’s best not to risk traveling out in the open if you can avoid it, you never know what eyes might be hiding in plain sight.

“Liyue apparel compliments you very well.”

With the speed of a descending phoenix, you pivot on your heel, summoning your weapon and pressing it to the jugular of whoever spoke just now. Squinting, your eyes take a few long seconds to adjust. Once they do, your body feels like it’s being drug into the underworld, the air in your lungs forced out. This man… you’ve seen him before. He gives you an all teeth grin, azure eyes swirling with delight and face contorting in amusement.

You remain steadfast through your bewilderment. “Try and scream and I’ll slit your throat.”

“I’m not much of a screamer,” Childe replies, laughing as if the situation was comical. “It’s good to see you too, [First]. Never thought I’d happen upon an old face in Liyue. I knew I recognized that unique combination of perfume, looks like I was right.”

It hits you that this is the first time you’ve heard your actual name in months. How Childe says it doesn’t feel right, he utters it with familiarity. Though, from what you remember, he’s never been known for having boundaries. Scaramouche would complain about his conduct for hours if given the opportunity. This would be the first time you’ve spoken with him, not from a lack of trying on his behalf. When Childe paid a visit to your husband’s estate, you were expected to be present at the start of their meetings. They would discuss business together while you stood there and looked easy on the eyes. Occasionally, you would refill their tea, but that was all you were permitted to do.

The look Scaramouche shot Childe when the latter tried speaking with you was enough to give you nightmares for days.

“What… what are you going to do now?” You murmur, anticipating the worst. This isn’t going to end well no matter what. If Fatui are in Liyue, that means Childe’s likely told someone where he was going; meaning that him going missing would be suspicious and warrant an investigation. On the other hand, who is to say he won’t just return you to Scaramouche if you let him live? You doubt your tears and pleading would have any effect on the youngest Harbinger. He’s similar to your husband — acting altruistic and kind — only to show their true colors when it suits them best.

“Right now? I’m trying not to get my throat slit,” he raises an eyebrow like that was the most obvious answer.

You bite your lower lip. “We both know you could get out of this hold if you wanted to.”

“Emphasis on the ‘if I wanted to’ part. As of right now, I don’t believe I do, being held by you is rather enjoyable,” Childe tests the waters by moving forward, humming in contentment when you lessen your grip as not to slice through his skin. “See? You’ve never even killed someone before. Call it intuition, but I don’t think you could.”

He reconsiders the proposition for a second. “Well, maybe if it was him...”

“You’re as insufferable as I remember,” you hiss, imbuing heat into your blade. Childe barely backs off and the unspoken threat. “Everyone who refuses to take me seriously comes to regret it.”

“Don’t worry, I fully agree with that. The Balladeer reduced you to nothing but a pretty little ornament. He underestimated you and this is the consequence.” Childe has an easier time maintaining eye contact than you do. It’s another minute detail that expresses the gap in your experience. You may be adequately trained in combat, but that pales in comparison when faced with a trained killer. This sorry charade will end the moment he wants it to.

Hate floods through your veins like venom. He’s looking down on you, just in a different way than how your husband would. Where Scaramouche was condescending and sadistic, Childe is brutally honest and teasing. It’s a split-second decision on your behalf, one motivated by the desire to prove this smug bastard wrong more than self-preservation. You loosen your grip on him and jump back. It’s not a lot of space, however, it should be enough to allow you room to react when he strikes.

He goes silent. It’s painfully obvious that he’s trying to get a read on you, now that you’re veering into unexpected territory.

“You were waiting for an opening, weren’t you?” Your words come out with more strength than you thought possible, deep from the chest and guttural. “Well, here you go. It’s the best you’re going to get.”

Childe blinks. Once, twice. His shoulders start to tremble, his chest following soon after, and he lifts his gloved hand to cover his mouth. Hearty laughter leaves his lips and pierces your self-esteem. You don’t understand what’s so humorous to him — though you’re well aware these Harbingers hold no humanity — repulsion flooding your system. This feels nostalgic in the worst ways possible. Early on in your marriage, Scaramouche would regard your resistance with a similar air of blatant dismissal, like your protests were nothing but a tantrum.

“You were wasted with him,” Childe’s loathsome cackling dies down, a maniacal grin splitting his face ear to ear. “Now I understand… the way you’re looking at me now is chilling. Exciting. In what ways have you evolved to survive? I love the fight in you, unlike him. Your adaptability is remarkable, like that of the most cunning prey. ” 

Prey. The dehumanizing word makes you frown, yet you remain firm in your stance. This is the best chance, you think, now that you’ve managed to surprise him once. There’s plenty more where that came from. Tendrils of molten flames, like they were stolen from the sun itself, would make for a considerable challenge. Harbinger or not, he should know better than to charge in without thinking twice when you hold a Pyro Vision.

His face returns to a more casual visage and he waves his hand. “I never had any intention of bringing you back to Inazuma. You think a Mora reward would be a good enough motivator for me to do that?”

“T-then why are you here?” You challenge, ever the skeptic. Childe can weave a tale of lies as much as he wants. That doesn’t mean you’ll allow yourself to be ensnared in it.

“I wanted to see how you’d react,” his nonchalant admission leaves you speechless. “Needless to say, you didn’t disappoint. A pretty face with the feist to match. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

“Oh, fuck off with that,” you snarl, your vision almost going red from the fury holding you hostage. Now that you no longer need to play the subservient partner, vulgarities come to you with ease, and you have no shortage of them for this blight in the flesh.

Childe’s smile widens. “No can do, I’m afraid. My curiosity has gotten the better of me this time. Could I tame you? Break your spirit better than he did? So show me your resolve to be free, sweet [First].”

He readies himself and you do as well. It’s in the dull illumination of the overhead lanterns that you realize there is no light in his eyes. How fitting, you think. That even his body has come to accept his lack of humanity.

“Go on. I’ll give you a ten second head start. After that... well, you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?” 

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Dionysus

Hey y’all, sorry for going dark! I’m alright, almost completely recovered in fact! I just got so sleepy while my body was fighting stuff off and couldn’t really work up the energy to write... Still going to be spotty for a short time, but I’m glad to have gotten this done. See ya soon!

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus

Lucifer

Well, this mortal stumbled out of the portal covered in glitter, body paint, and carrying a red solo cup… which they proceeded to stare at like, "'ell sshhit… Thiz iz sum stron s'uff…"

First impressions were not on their side here.

He spent a depressingly long amount of time more or less assuming that the MC was a drunken f-up and spent the first few months trying to make them more… presentable.

But like… How do you stop someone from acting like a drunk fool when they can turn any drink they touch alcoholic???

For months they would show up to meetings buzzed or stumbling, all smiles and all giggles but HORRIBLY unprofessional, and he just couldn't stand it!

But then he found out their little secret…

Assassination threats befall the exchange students all the time. Most of them are dealt with quickly but some (through skill or dumb luck) manage to slip through...

He had been walking with the MC through their new vineyard in the House's courtyard, yet again trying to lecture them about their drunken behavior, when suddenly the two were ambushed!

Ten or so heavily armored demons dropped down from the sky to attack them! Lucifer was so preoccupied that he got cornered by three of them and it took him a hot minute to destroy them.

When he looked back at the mortal (who had been fighting a 1-on-7) he was certain they'd have been kidnapped or worse…

But he saw that they had already cut down two attackers with their weapon with ease. The other five were rolling in the dirt, babbling about inexplicable terrors and imaginary pain as their minds succumbed to madness…

Meanwhile, the MC just stood in the middle of it all with the icy glare of someone who’s just revealed how stone-cold sober they've always been under the surface...

When they turned back to him, they put their usual ditzy smile back on over the tormented wails of the demons around them...

MC: Whoopsie… Gotta little mad there. 🙂

He uh… took a big ol'step off their back after that. Surprisingly, they're more pleasant (and less dangerous) "drunk" than they are sober…

Mammon

Oh HELL yeah!! Lucifer actually gave him a mortal that knows how to party!!

Admittedly, they looked like utter trash when they first met, like, "Hey, I've been at this party since DAWN" trash, but they gave him one good look and pulled together a surprisingly hot smile.

MC: "-ey yer cute… Ya like strip poker?"

Spoken like someone else who also makes shit decisions… They were going to get along just fine!

And they did. The MC to him was that one friend that's always down for anything. Just anything. Whenever. Wherever.

He wants to try sneaking into Lucifer's room to steal stuff? Sure, what time?

He wants to take a mattress and see if he can ride it down the grand staircase of the palace? Alright, we bringin' pillows too?

He needs to set up another scheme that's gotta involve live rats and box of tiny hats and monocles?? That's oddly specific but count them in!!

Sometimes he honestly can't tell if they're laid back or just crave chaos... but it works out fine for him either way so who cares? 🤷‍♀️

And if you think normal Mammon is a pain in the ass for Lucifer? Check out drunk Mammon. All the same urges but literally none of the (marginal) competence!!

At one point, the eldest ended up stringing both Mammon and the MC from the ceiling after they both barged into his office looking for Goldie… while he was still in there… watching them wander around aimlessly calling out for a piece of plastic like it was a missing puppy…

They end up together on the ceiling a lot come to think of it, but hey, at least now he has some company. 😌

Leviathan

Thinks they're the most normal normie to have ever normed on this normie planet!!!

No, seriously. They're a billion times worse than Asmo!! All they want to do is go to parties and drink all the time! What kind of use is he to someone like that??

… That being said they ARE pretty fun to be around… And their sake is WAY better than anything he could get off Akuzon!!

They also like karaoke too! So at least he has someone else to go with (even if they get so drunk they can’t remember any lyrics and just belt barely coherent discount Mariah Carey vocals behind him...)

Of course, the real fun between these two is everybody else getting to watch a couple of the Devildom's sloppiest drunks attempt to communicate with each other…

Levi: MMM-*hic*-MCCC…!!! *throws himself at them from across the bar*

MC: What Leviachan??? 😨 Did the chair kick you off?!

Levi: Nooo! *pokes their cheek* I wanna-I wanna tell you sometin'...! *tries pulling them closer*

MC: Whaa? Secrets?? *leans in eagerly*

Levi: Mammon used all ma money on’a pyramid scheme a thou-zand years ago… AND HE STILL WON'T PAY ME BAAA-!!! 😭😭 *starts shaking them violently*

MC: *getting flung around like a limp noodle* Waaaat?! Nooo!!! I'm so sowwy!! 😢

Mammon: *watching it all go down right next to him* 😑 Ya guys need some water… I'm cuttin' ya off, got it?

MC: 😱 Shut yer whore mouth, criminal!! *starts pelting him with pretzel bites*

Levi: 😤 Yah!! *joins in*

Good thing he's a shut-in, because the hangovers he gets after those escapades are unreal…

Satan

A little concerned for their liver, honestly… How much damage have they already done to the poor thing...?

But at the same time, he'll be damned if they don't make some utterly fantastic wine!

Alcokinesis wasn't a power he would have pegged a demigod to have but apparently the great art of making drinks comes from their godly DNA.

When they first met, he was trying to get the MC to act less slovenly but made the mistake of agreeing to a wager: he'd let them dress however they pleased if they could give him the BEST drink he'd ever tasted.

Now, Satan isn't a huge drinker (thank you terrible alcohol tolerance), but he's still a man of fine tastes. Plus, he's sampled Demonus from Diavolo royal stock before. They should not have won…

But on that day, he had to let them go to RAD in a pink blanket toga... 😑 Their wine is just THAT good.

He hates to admit it, but they've gotten him drunk more times than he could probably count too… He's not a huge fan of clubbing with them and the others, but if they bring over a bottle from their vineyard he just can't resist. They're a master of their craft, truly.

And it's a good thing he likes their drinks so much, because if they called him, "Kitty-boy," when he's sober, he may have just become a sour grape himself…

They also may or may not have copious amounts of blackmail material of him either meowing between sentences, sobbing over some fictional character he likes, pole dancing on dares….

Yeah, he's been trying to destroy their phone for months now. If Lucifer were to see ANY of that, he's done for… 😣

He has also been meaning to ask them about other aspects of their abilities, their father is also the God of Madness after all, but anytime he tries to bring it up they shove another glass in his hand and tell him not to kill the mood...

Eh. What's the harm in having another drink, right? 🤷‍♀️

Asmodeus 

Honey. He's MET Dionysus. He's been to a Dio-party or two and they're INSANE. He could not be more thrilled by this!!!

He practically scooped them up on the first night that they were in the House and it’s practically been a nonstop rave between these two ever since. They’re like the party twin he never knew he needed!!

He absolutely abuses their ability to turn pretty much any drink they touch into alcohol at clubs. It makes the nights so much easier on the wallet PLUS it makes an excellent little party trick to impress the succubi! Who doesn’t want a free drink? 😏

And can he just say that their drinks are better? Just flat out amazing! If it weren’t so unhealthy he’d consider drinking nothing but their booze and wine for the rest of his days, Satan’s certainly getting close to it.

But little does Satan know, he’s not even getting the GOOD stuff...

There’s the normal wine: grapes picked from the vineyard, hand squeezed, then magically helped through the fermenting process. But their real good stuff? They were given enchanted oak barrels from their father and anything that comes out of those is worth starting a WAR over. 😩

He knows, because he gifted an extra bottle to Diavolo once and Barbs came to him the very next day demanding to know what vineyard had produced it with the look of man willing to annex a small nation...

Asmo had to beg Lucifer to talk to Diavolo after the butler more or less kidnapped the MC back to the Castle… Devil knows even Barbs wouldn’t ever be able to reproduce their wine, so they could have been locked there for eternity!!

Thankfully, he got his party-buddy back and their debauchery continued! (Just now with Barbatos following them around sometimes like he’s trying to gather state secrets... It’s an impossible task but he hasn’t given up yet, bless his black heart.)

Beelzebub

He isn't much bothered by their carefree nature, at least they seem to be having fun with his family which he appreciates. 🙂

To be honest, though, he nearly ate them when they first met because they smell like freshly peeled grapes… and for good reason.

By their third day at the House they had (somehow) planted and cultivated a full on vineyard in the courtyard. Hell, the wall growing to their bedroom balcony was covered in grapevines!! Always ripe and completely healthy in defiance of the lack of sun... Whatever magic they used was strong.

And, of course, their grapes were also delicious! Easily among the best fruits he's ever tasted! Every cluster is ridiculously plump, juicy, and sweet like little droplets of pure Heaven… 🤤

When their fruit first ripened, the MC came out with a basket to collect some only to find Beel had gouged himself on over half of their crop!!!

… which may have been why he got snared up on one of the courtyard walls by pissed off grapevines... Even with all his strength, he couldn't break through them and had to wait for Lucifer to cut him down… 😔 

From then on, Beel was pretty much the pesky rabbit to the MC's harvest. They had to set up traps and magical barriers to keep him from their precious grapes…!! Which inevitably meant one of his brothers had to come rescue him from their furious vines at least once a week... 🙄

SOMETIMES, the MC will bring him along to help harvest with them with the deal that he can have an extra basket for however many he helps them pick. But the second he takes a bite he shouldn't, it’s back on the wall!

Out of the vineyard, they're nice enough. But put some grapes between these two and they're mortal enemies… STOP messing with their plants, Beel!! 😤

Belphegor 

So… this drunken fool is supposed to get him out of the attic? Never mind, this is never going to work…

He was SEVERELY underwhelmed when the "human" finally made it up the steps. This was who they decided to bring for their exchange program? They seemed like they could barely stand!

Naturally, he figured all the better for him. They probably wouldn't even last that long! 

Some poor, incompetent human falling victim to a demon out there? Diavolo's reputation would in tatters and he wouldn't even have to lift a finger! (His favorite way of doing things really 😌).

But… they just kept coming back? Like. Nothing was killing them….! How guarded were they keeping this moron?? 

Or… maybe it was something else?

Sure, the MC seemed like a drunken idiot but there were times when he'd swear that they were just… too aware to be sloshed…

MC: *suddenly stops smiling at him mid-conversation and looks him in the eye* You tilt your head when you lie. You know that?

How can someone so cheerful ALSO be so unnerving…?

So really, he should have seen their sudden heel-turn after they opened the door coming. There he was, fully intending to take them by surprise and choke them after a hug…

...and they knocked him down, climbed onto his back like a spider monkey, and rode him around like a bucking bull using his horns like handlebars!!

It wouldn’t have been AS humiliating if they didn’t also keep shouting things like "Giddiyap!" And "Yee-haw!!"

It took him a whole month to be sure that any and all footage of that nightmare was erased and he STILL hates the MC quite a bit for it…. But he's too scared to attack them now, so…

The lesson here? It's not a fair fight when one side’s crazy... 😔😒

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

; good enough

© @pedropcl

lee bodecker x fem!reader.

summary. your father invited you to his birthday party and things ended badly.

words. about 2.3k.

warnings, tags. nsfw, +18!!! drunk state, language, unprotected sex, daddy!kink, very brief degradation, mention of bodily fluids, very brief mention of violence. and i think that's all.

a / n. first time writing for this man that has me obsessed, so i hope y'all like it! none of my writings contains reader's body descriptions to be inclusive. if you find something out of place, please send me a message and i'll change it.

You didn't want to be there, but it was your father's birthday and you couldn't miss it. More than thirty minutes had passed since the last time you saw your husband standing in a corner of the large living room, sipping from his glass of whisky and judging every guest around in silence. Lee hated your parents, your family, their friends. And you didn't blame him. Your family never accepted him, always repeating that he wasn't good enough for you, nor your interests. Except for your mom. She wasn't the only one who didn't treat him like dirt.

Once that you escaped from your father's arms, showing you as a trophy and trying to set you up on a date with one of his best friend's sons, you stepped out of the house to the back garden. It was cold outside, having to close your jacket around your chest as you closed both arms over it. Following the footprints on the grass, you reached the improvised parking where different cars were stationed. The smoke coming from nowhere called your attention, glimpsing Lee sitting on the hood of his black Ford. Cigarette in his left hand and bottle of whisky in his right.

You doubted for a second to interrupt his moment of peace for the first time in two weeks. Two long weeks where you barely had spent time together. He started holding over his shifts because, apparently, there was too much paperwork to attend. You couldn't help but think that he was raving mad about you, or about something you did unconsciously. But the real problem was that your husband never used to talk about his feelings or what was going in his mind.

“I think you've drunk enough”. You uttered watching him raise the bottle to his lips.

Lee chuckled ironically, shaking his head. “Lucky me I don' care”.

Frowning and with your mouth pressed closed, you walked towards his position to face him. He had never talked to you like that, but he was being honest, shrugging his shoulders to point it out a little more.

“I do. I do care”.

“Don' worry, darlin'. I ain't gonna shame you in front of your family”. He scoffed bitterly, finally sipping from his drink. “Watya' doin' here anyway? Party's indoors”.

“You're here tho”.

“And who fuckin' cares, uh? You were having so much fun inside with that… pretty boy who works in Wall Street”. Your husband mocked taking a drag from his cigarette. “We should divorce, don' you think? So you coulda go with him to the big city, and don' be stuck in… How d'your father call it? Knockemshit. Stuck with a… fat sheriff of a shitty town”.

Lee didn't notice the tears blurring your gaze till he raised his face. The bitter smile curving his lips suddenly disappeared, putting his pale blue eyes away from you because it was too painful for him to watch you cry. Your husband gulped hardly, kissing his teeth as he threw the cigar somewhere on the ground. You couldn't believe he really wanted to divorce you, wrapping your heart with a suffocating sorrow that barely let you breathe. He was your life and, after three years together, he seemed to not give a shit about it sometimes.

“I ain' like them”. You whispered sniffing.

“Tha' doesn' change the fact that you don' deserve a man like me. Your father is right. 'M a fucking loser compared to anyone inside his damn house”.

You loved Lee with all your heart, soul, mind, body. He was everything you want in your existence —your life. So damn obsessed with his touch, his kisses, his smell of wind and leather, his smile, that beautiful pair of pale blue eyes. You refused to believe he was talking seriously.

“You should be there. I— Imma go home, tell your mo—”.

Before your husband could finish his goodbye, you interrupted him by slapping his face. He didn't see that coming and you'd never imagine yourself hitting him. But you needed it, seeming the only way to stop him from abandoning you there. He kept his face away from you, trying to comprehend what had just happened. His drunkenness suddenly disappeared, pressing his inner cheek with the tip of his tongue whilst rubbing his hand over the reddened skin. You were so mad right now that you could set on fire the whole world.

And you were about to do it a second time when Lee caught your wrist in the air, painfully gripping his fingers around it to push you closer —chest against chest. Then, he raised his index finger. “Don' you fuckin' dare to try it again, y'hear me?”

You were furiously breathing, but not filling your lungs with air in reality, keeping your eyes on the blue ones that used to steal your heart every single day. It was like a contest of dominance you knew he always won. Any time.

Your husband didn't give you the chance to say sorry, slamming his lips on yours. A moan died in his tongue when it invaded your cavity while releasing your arm to fly his rough big hands to your ass, almost grabbing it all with his long fingers. Your digits went to the lapels of his leather jacket, not lasting too much there till finishing on the back of his head.

Lee was hungry for you, just like you were for him after two long weeks barely touching each other. Your husband devoured, sucked, and bit your lips, urging you to turn around enough to push you on top of the hood of his car. His hands pulled up the skirt of your dress, wanting to reach the waistband of your panties, receiving the great surprise that you weren't wearing any.

“You little dirty girl… Don' wantin' your Sheriff to lose time, uh?” He grunted with such an animal and eager tone, as he took care of the belt and the zip of his pants.

“I need you”. You sobbed against his lips, feeling his hands maneuvering between your legs.

At least, you were fast enough to cover your mouth with a hand when Lee rammed his rock dick into your soaked cunt, drowning in your palm a loud cry of pure satisfaction for being filled by your husband. Back and forth, he hit your body once and once, impaling you against the Ford still being furious by the way your father and friends treated him as if it was your fault. Lee was mad, really mad, digging his fingers in your hips to pin you on place and don't move, continuing fucking you harder and harder —challenging you to not be able to be quiet and make everybody heard how good he used to made you feel.

“Goddammit… you're so damn ti— tight, baby doll… So tight fo— for your daddy, ain' ya?”

“Yes… Yes, daddy”. You cried hiding your face into the crook of his neck.

His strong scent filling your lungs caused you to roll your eyes white, letting your soul leave your body while his cock attacked fiercely your pussy with no mercy. Your vocals were in sync with the screeching noise the car produced in every thrust straight to your guts. The pace was insane, intense than never before, and more pleasurable than you could imagine in your life.

Lee was aware how much you loved him, that you felt devotion for him. But sometimes —sometimes like those— he couldn't help but think he could lose you as soon as you realized who he was in reality. You didn't care. You weren't blind. You knew about his dirty laundry, his past, his sister (...). And you still wanted him with all your heart and body.

“Fu— Fuck, gonna put a… baby inside you”. He growled, wrapping his right around your throat to urge you to face him. “Y'want it, uh? D'you want dad— daddy to put a baby in that… beautiful belly?”

“Yes… please, Lee”. You whined with teary eyes, being too much pleasure for your body to handle. “Please, daddy… I wa— want you to… get me pre— pregnant with your child”.

Your husband's lips curved up in a petty smirk, pulling out from your dripping cunt, causing you to sob in disappointment. Lee managed to put you down on your shaky feet to turn you and force you to bend over the hood of his car. Ass upped, legs spread. He only took a second to stare at your glistening and abused folds in your arousal, prior to impaling you again. With a hand on your lower back and the other tangled in your head, your husband obligated you to arch your back as he continued banging your anatomy once and again.

At this point, you had forgotten your name, where you are, and if someone could hear how you cried pleased any time he crashed against your g-spot. It was a mix of pleasure and pain as Lee wasn't having any kind of compassion with your cunt, clenching unconsciously around his hard length. He knew then how close you were to cumming for him —because of him—, increasing the pace while you tried to find a place to put your hands on and find some balance to stay in place. As soon as the hand tangled in your hair landed back to your throat, you gripped five fingers around his wrist, enjoying the brief lack of air because of it.

“C'mon, my swe— sweet whore… Y'wanna cum for daddy, don't ya?”

His raspy and wrecked voice fell into your ear like an angelic melody, not being able to hold your moans anymore within your mouth. The knot inside your lower belly was bigger and bigger and suffocating, feeling how it could explode at any time. Lee shoved his cock non-stopping producing a sloppy obscene sound when his pelvis crashed against your ass, along the chink of his belt against the back of your thigh.

“Daddy… Daddy…” You called him while the tears started to fall again through your cheeks, this time, of absolute satisfaction.

You couldn't help but bite your lip strongly till the metallic taste of blood covered your tongue, letting yourself go as the knot bursted within your belly. The orgasm threw you above the edge with your husband's palm covering your mouth to not be heard or it would be really awkward to be caught by all the guests, even if he didn't care. He wouldn't mind showing that pretty boy from New York that nobody could fuck his little dirty girl better than himself. Oh, how funny it would be to see his face while your husband was ramming his cock into your abused pussy, cumming inside your tight walls, digging his teeth in your neck to mark his territory.

Lee came with a sensual and passionate hoarse gasp causing you goosebumps bristling your skin, burying himself balls deep to hold it inside the mix of your juices filling up your center. It felt like being in Heaven, although you weren't sure if you could walk after such an intense quickly, feeling your walls burning as his dick still twitching and stretching your cunt.

Your husband wasn't a man of kisses after sex, that's why he surprised you when tilted your face to his and pressed his lips on yours, panting, not caring about the lack of breath. It wasn't a lustful kiss either, more than a tender and fondly one, tasting your mouth, playing with your tongue.

Pulling out his semi-erection, Lee helped you to clean yourself with a tissue before using it to clean your arousal on him and toss it to the ground. As he put on his pants, you fixed your dress and your hair, turning around.

“You meant it?” You dared to ask, still having sorrow covering your voice. “Gettin' divorced… You mean it?”

“What?” He inquired, squinting confusedly until he realized what you were talking about. He chuckled holding your chin with two fingers. “You married me, darlin'. There's no other way you're gonna spend your life but with me. Willingly or not, you hear me?”

Lee raised both eyebrows very sure of his word before you nodded your head with a fleeting smile crossing your lips.

“Can we go home now…?”

“'S that what you want?”

You nodded your head a second time, while your husband placed his arms around you with hidden possessiveness to guide you back to your childhood's house. And of course, your father was enraged when you told him that you were leaving with your husband. He yelled at you and nobody tried to stop him till the moment he had the brilliant idea of pretending to lay a hand on you.

Lee punched him. Lee broke his nose. Lee made your father fall to the floor between the pretty boy's arms. And Lee never felt better in his whole damn life.

“Don't you ever come back to this house, if you leave now with this… bastard”.

“She doesn' need you”. Your husband cooed wrapping your neck with an arm, leaning slightly to borrow your purse. “Ma'am, my pleasure a see ya' again. The beef was delicious. G'night”.

You were yet processing what just happened, ashamed of the desire for your husband himself awakened inside you after watching him hitting your father. Lee could be a total asshole sometimes but one thing was undeniable: he loved you with all his heart and soul, he was obsessed with you since the very first time his oceanic eyes contemplated you walking down the street, smelling a bucket of roses you bought for yourself.

Never again you knew anything about your family. Not even when your son, called after your husband, was born. But you weren't sad. As Lee said, you didn't need them. You had your own family to take care of.

feedback is appreciated. if you enjoyed it, please leave a comment so i can know your opinion. reblogs are needed.

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[theperfectlovestory]

You Are My Home

I DON'T OWN THE PICTURE

Information: This will probably have multiple parts but stand alone (?) I'm a bit nervous to post this cause this is a more personal uhh imagines 😂

Summary: It's been a long time since your friends saw you, a lot has change and you are in a better place in your life. Specially the relationship part

Pairings: Elizabeth Olsen x Reader

Theme: fluff

TW: none (?)

Word Count: 2,241

"Hey guys" you greeted, giving a small smile to your friends. It's been a long time since you all had the chance to talk together

Everyone has been busy and since you left your original city 2 years ago, the best you can do is chat with them once in a while

You are confident that the relationship with them is strong but you are sure many things have changed. But change is good, specially since you left with heavy heart and full of uncertainty

Right now you are in a good position in your life, and everyone is free, or at least made sure to make time. But still, the best you can do is video call for now

After 2 years this is the first time you've seen everyone. While they keep in touch and get together once in a while. You just were too far, both physically and mentally

"Hey, long time no see" Steve teased and you chuckled

"Damn you look good" Natasha commented "been taking care of yourself, I see"

You made a face and nodded "happy now I finally hit the gym like you always nag me to?" She chuckled

"Hey, just want you healthy"

"I know, thank you. Your voice is actually what pushed me in training" you leaned on the table, placing your cheeks on your knuckles "I can just hear you berating me for being so weak"

Everyone chuckled, agreeing that she does do that

"But in all seriousness, you look happy" Bucky complimented

Sighing, you nodded, finally at the position in your life where you can actually see yourself having a bright future

"I am, finally got my shit together, mostly at least"

The topic then transferred to your other friends, enjoying their presence even just from the screen. Laughing together just like the old times

"(Y/n)?" You turn your head to the voice, your girlfriend, Elizabeth calling for you coming from the second floor

"Darling, I'm in the dining" you answered and immediately heard footsteps

Without looking at the screen of your laptop, she smiled, excitedly tilt your head by your chin, kissing you deeply

Every one of your friends are stunned. Of course, you never showed them any public display, not like you had the chance anyway since you never really pursued anyone for years you were with them and now here you are kissing Elizabeth Olsen

Very famous actress, part of big filming companies, a producer as well

"Damn (Y/n)..." Natasha whispered and you laughed when Lizzie finally realized you were actually on a video call

"Oh no, sorry baby" she said wiping your mouth and hers with her sleeves, you shake your head to stop her

"You're fine, or not. But Lizzie, meet my friends" you gestured on the screen and Lizzie shyly waved at them. Blush dusting her cheeks as she pursed her lips into a decent smile. Your taste still lingering on her mouth

They said a quick hi to be polite then suddenly spoke all at once berating you for not telling them you are dating "the Elizabeth Olsen". The actress, the girl of your dreams

Then it was your turn to blush when Bucky mentioned that she's the reason you never had any interest in other people. She was just too 'shiny' to you, the other just seemed dull

Elizabeth looked at you with new found love in her eyes as you got bullied by your friends. She can't help but give you a quick kiss on the cheek before apologizing for interrupting your moment with them again

"Oh no, you did not interrupt at all. We probably wouldn't even know she's dating if you didn't come" Tony said and everyone told him to shut up

"It's not like how it sounds, Ms. Olsen. (Y/n) is very proud of you, she just really doesn't like speaking about her relationships" Peter explained and Elizabeth chuckled

"Oh I know, that's why we are not in public anyway" she patted your head "but it's okay. I don't want to drag her in the mess of Hollywood so if you can just keep all this between us" she gave everyone a small smile and they either shrugged or nodded

"No problem" Natasha answered "I'll make sure these idiots don't slip up"

Elizabeth gave them a big smile before she left to get breakfast. Once she is gone though they started attacking you with questions again

"Fine fine" you sighed, finally giving up "we met a few months after I left, I applied to the Marvel Studio as set decorator. I was fixing up the set the night before with a bunch of my coworkers so the shooting will proceed with ease. I'm usually just there at night so when she came looking for her phone, which I actually picked up and was planning to give to the lost and found before leaving, they pointed her to me. I gave it to her, she thanked me and that was it'' you shrugged

"Then how did you two got together"

Pursing your lips, knowing they wouldn't stop anyway you told them

It was the wrap up of the filming for Endgame. The biggest movie you will ever work with if you are honest

A bunch of A-listers are there and a lot of demands have to be met so for the first time, the whole movie you had to be in and out of the sets. You barely slept or ate in the past few months. You apartment even collected dust since all you did there is go home, take a shower, then go out

You mostly slept on set. By the end of the filming your body is screaming for rest. But you kept going anyway. This project is a very big deal for you, specially you lead the look of the set. anything that needs to be changed, moved, removed, added to the set goes through you

So basically, all day you stand in front of the set, watching the designers work their magics and you requesting changes, assessing the atmosphere in pre production and etc. and at night, clean up and set up is a bitch

One morning you were so tired you wanted to pass out there and then when Elizabeth enter the area. She was shooting all her parts today that can be soloed

You tried to keep yourself awake and alert to anything and everything so when you noticed an uneven ramp and props that she will unfortunately stepped on, your body started running before your mind can comprehend what's happening

She let out a squeal when she broke her ankle and fall but before she hit the ground and risk further injuries on her wrist that is sure to break her fall, you were catching her

But your body felt so weak that instead of staying up right, she fell on you. At least she wasn't hurt at any part of her body but you were, you hit your head on impact but it was minor

If ever, it only made you dizzy

She stood up and you did as well. You rubbed your hand on your face, ordering staffs to re-arrange and clean up the set so no more obstacle can cause accidents

You didn't even dare look at her eyes knowing those green orbs will suck your life out of you. You asked her if she's okay, also apologizing for the dangerous set up. It was overlooked that she would be indeed walking in heels, boots but heels nevertheless

"It's fine, I'm fine" she said, smiling but her eyes are full of worry "are you though? You hit your head when you broke my fall" she said, even unconsciously touching it

"Uh yeah..." you awkwardly smiled at her "it doesn't hurt, thanks" you then slowly back away. When the props have been arrange, the shooting started but your body felt so weak you had to call your assistant to cover for you

You went to the area where you always rested and slept. You were out for almost 2 hours when a cough woke you up. You sat up, rubbing your eyes and ask what they need without even looking at them

"I...brought you food, and coffee" your head snapped, looking at the voice you only dream of talking . She had a small and awkward smile and shy look in her eyes directed to you

"I was looking for you where you usually stand but noticed you weren't there" she explained, your face obviously gave your confusion away "I wanted to thank you again, the stunt director said that if it weren't for you, I would most likely break my wrist in that fall"

You slowly nodded, giving her a small smile "well, it was our fault for not triple checking the set"

"No no, please don't do that, accidents happen, I'm just here to thank you. It was me being clumsy too" You look at her with newfound admiration, a firm believer of 'never meet your idol, it will disappoint you'. But it wasn't the case with her at all

You are aware of the rumors that she's actually very kind, down to earth and serious with her job. It's a good rumor considering she is well known and if you are honest, you know deep in your heart it is true, but you never get your hopes up high

If only you met in a different circumstance, maybe you would think of trying to flirt a little but you know your place. This is a work situation and you need to be as professional as you can be. She is still an actress after all, you need to respect her space

It doesn't mean that she is being kind to you, it's an invitation to step into that space of hers. So you muster the most professional smile you can

"Well thanks, it's really no problem" you said with indifference and if you are actually not too much in your head, you will see her frown with the change of tone

She then handed you the food and the coffee "I'd actually like to talk more again sometimes" she said, swallowing the tightness in her throat "maybe for a coffee?"

The invitation did wonders in your body. Your heart is just beating a tad bit faster, your stomach filled with butterflies, your cheeks turning red. All the cliché reactions you can feel, it's there but then you moved and you groaned, your body sore from over work

You were so sure you wanted to say yes, but your body clearly wanted to say no. After this shooting, you just want to drop dead in your apartment and maybe wake up 3 months after

"I'm just so tired recently, I will be no fun" you chuckled, exhaustion dripping on every syllable "but hey, maybe a few weeks after the filming is done, if you are still up for it?"

The sadness of rejection from earlier was turned into a big grin. Her excitement sparkled on her eyes "sure, I'd give you my number then"

You nodded and gave her your phone. She didn't even have to ask for a password because you never put one in. It's easier since you give your phone to your assistants all the time to contact people for updates on props shipments and other business related matter

She excitedly tapped her number, saving it as 'Scarlet Witch' and that made you giggle. Using her screen name that's not even canon yet

"Okay, Scarlet Witch, I'll call you when I finally get some well deserve hibernation, then maybe I'll be more fun to talk to than a usual" She laughed and nodded and you are so sure you can never be more in love with her voice

She then said a few more things before leaving you to rest. You thanked her again for the food and coffee before she disappeared

"I can't believe you almost rejected her" Steve said wide eyed "she's like, your dream woman"

"Oh I can" Natasha said "(Y/n) doesn't hit uncertain, have you ever played with her on anything? All her hits are aces!"

"But it's like the chance of a lifetime!"

"Yeah! That's why you make sure you attack when you know it will hit!"

The two started bickering and you all just watched, laughing at their same old antics. Elizabeth then walk to your side, offering you a fruit bowl for breakfast, you thanked her and then invited her to seat besides you and she did, you kissed her off camera

"What was that?" She chuckled but tried to catch your lips again when you pulled away, you giggled at her pouty face

"Nothing, just suddenly can't believe I'm actually dating you" she sighed, giving you a small smile

"You might think that you're the lucky one but it's actually me" she said, pressing a hand on your cheeks and squeezing it lightly "you make my life whole, (Y/n), you filled the space in my heart where money or popularity cannot"

"And you picked up and fixed my broken pieces" you countered, leaning on her hand that's now just slowly rubbing your cheeks

"I guess we are both lucky then"

"Yeah"

Your eyes both glint the same way. Feeling like you finally found where you belong, in each other. You are home