#if i walk a certain amount it does

[enchantedephiphany]

Pain kept me awake again. 😡 worse from yesterday for some reason. I'm. So. Tired. Of this.

[friedoats]

Hey if some who works with an animal for a living tells you to leave an animal alone (either for your well being or the animals) leave it the fuck alone

This has been a PSA :)

[spotsupstuff]

Anon from the moon argument ask, wasn't intending to phrase it like sparrow deserved it, was trying to highlight how unfair moon was being considering sparrows is just as much a victim as she is, and moon crying was her realizing that, but ur probably right in moon probably not being the only one in the room with sparrows

wording is one hell of a thing, huh jglksdmckldskl yea ya good 👍

i wanna keep the actual happenings of the meeting to myself till i'll be able to illustrate it properly, with enough of context from past happenings, but what i really imagine is that Moon would be rather cold about all of it. i've been playing a little with my take on Moon's characterization and was inspired by an interpretation of the moon in specific belief of being a cold dead rocky thing, yet alive and brimming with life not her own. another inspiration source is Neglected Space by Imogen Heap

the same ideas applies to Looks to the Moon, as a result: tragically putting her in a similar place as Seven Red Suns, almost. emotionally cold and detached from emotion, yet unlike Suns, Moon puts care in still being kind, considerate and loving to her fellow Iterators. these two are supposed to be sort of a commentary on empathy, compassion and sympathy. both end up lacking the ability to be empathic, but that doesn't mean they cannot extend compassion and sympathy if they just put in the effort. Suns does not truly try. Moon again does her best

in the Children of Eo and Wish for Tomorrow groups meeting, Moon wouldn't yell. there wouldn't really be an Argument between her and Tarrows. Tarrows is there to offer her services, falling to her knees- reducing herself into a position of someone lesser, tapping into being perceived as a slave again, all because of guilt that isn't hers- until Boreas picks her up by the arm, that is because he won't stand for one of his family being anything less than himself and he will Never fall to his knees in front of anyone unless physically shoved into the position. Sparrows is equal to him whether she likes it or not basically jdslklkmcklsd

something hot and explosive wouldn't happen, specifically because Tarrows would refuse to put up any fight. Moon's sharp words would be shaped like a lecture. they'd be calm, merciless, because this is a parasite in front of her and she needs to know her place. this isn't a Moon that is an empitome of kindness and sweetness and the mom friend or however is she often viewed, this is a flawed person with bitterness that's been slowly growing and growing over thousands of years. she wouldn't cry, she couldn't. she has to learn before the realization of her faults would be able to hit at all

[pummelingbat]

i like the angle that Dan and Herbert's relationship is actually more transactional on Dan's end, despite what it looks like on the surface. like, Dan is so morally all over the place; the idea that by the time the events of Bride rol around he's perfectly fine with Herbert--as long as what they're doing benefits him--is sooooooo much. idk maybe it's just my preference for a romance where both parties suck and are the worst talking, but i do think Dan is kind of an opportunist & it's really chewy to me.

[bunnis-monsters]

🎄NSFW 🎄

warning: oviposition, gangbang, fluff+smut

Your first Christmas with the bee hybrids was… certainly an experience.

You’ve only been queen for a year. Your own little ones are barely toddlers learning to walk and fly, but the babies from the previous queen have grown attached and see you as their mama too.

“Mama, what’s Christmas?”

Oh, the dreaded question. The hive had been teaching the little ones human traditions and simple biological facts to make sure they grew up knowing how to properly take care of their queen.

“Oh… it’s a holiday where the family gathers around, exchanged presents, and then we eat a nice dinner.”

One of your own toddles over, teething on one of your fingers as you speak. “Sometimes during the season, people go caroling or look at Christmas lights. There’s a lot of baking as well.”

They all let out a collective “ooo”.

This was the beginning of the end.

The second Halloween was over, the baby bees were buzzing around, begging their mama for some Christmas fun. It wasn’t fair that the humans got to celebrate such cool traditions while they “wasted away” in their cribs.

“Mama, I wanna make cookies!”

“A-and I want to see Santa!”

“Mama, are we elves?”

Overwhelmed by all of their requests and… odd questions, you quickly roped in the adults in your hive to help you make Christmas possible for your baby bees.

Surprisingly, the hardest part was your subjects trying to comprehend why the little ones should receive a gift from an outsider of the hive.

“This Santa creature… is he safe? What does he want in return for gifts of this amount? I’m not sure we have enough honey to satisfy such a beast.”

That’s when you had to break it to the adults of your hive that Santa was in fact not real, and that all of the presents would come from them.

A few of your attendants whined, burying their faces in your neck and tummy, rubbing their fluff against you. “My queen, he’s not real? We won’t get presents?”

“Oh dear…”

It took the entire month of November to simply gather all of the supplies together, and you wondered if it would be possible to give your babies the Christmas they wanted.

First up on the list was Christmas caroling. They refused to do it in the hive, babbling on about spreading Christmas cheer.

So you hid their antennas under hats, bundled them up nice and warm, and escorted them down a relatively safe human street. The bee hybrids guarded the little ones, buzzing threateningly at anyone that got to close as they sang their little songs.

You watched out of the corner of your eyes as one of them fell face first into a snow bank, their little legs wiggling while being pulled out by one of the guards.

It was difficult not to laugh.

After their caroling, they wanted to play in the snow for a while. You let them play until they were running to you and crying, their little noses runny and their hands cold.

“Alright, let’s go home.”

Through December, you helped them do fun crafts and write their letters to Santa. There was a certain magic in the air, everyone was excited for the big night.

And then it came. Christmas Eve was filled with activities, the first being a special breakfast.

The next activity was baking cookies for Santa. Since you had so many little ones, multiple ovens had to be used just to make enough cookies for them to decorate.

Of course they all ate most of them, unable to resist the sugary treats, but you were able to save a plate full for Santa.

They all gathered around the giant tree the bee hybrids brought into the hive, all giggling and decorating it as others snacked on the Christmas cookies. Seeing your cute little fuzz balls so happy made your heart soar.

The last activity before bed was to watch a Christmas movie, and they all wanted to be snuggled up with you while they waited for Santa.

They all wore little matching pajamas, their wings buzzing and antennas twitching as they curled up with their mama.

“Mama… Christmas is the best…” one of your babies cooed as another nursed. They were still so little, you hoped you’d have many more Christmas memories like this in the future.

Carefully, you untangled yourself from the pile of sleeping baby bees and made you way to the adult Christmas party.

When you opened the door, all eyes were on you. Some were drunk from overripe fruit while others were feasting on sweets and playing games while waiting for you to arrive.

And every single one of them was hard.

“My queen~!”

You were approached by your attendants, who all rubbed around you, desperate for your attention after you had been busy with the babies all day. “We missed you… everyone’s been waiting for our Christmas present!”

All of the bee hybrids cooed and hummed, buzzing with excitement. In exchange for them working so hard to give the babies a nice Christmas, you promised to give them a special treat.

Your body.

Instantly you were surrounded, being caressed and sniffed, your clothes easily coming off. Your hive had been working nonstop all month to make you and the babies happy, which meant you hadn’t been mated with much.

And embarrassingly enough, you craved this as much as they did.

You cried out in ecstasy as one of the bees latched onto your clit, sucking softly as your cunt was being fucked by another. Both of your nipples were being attacked, and your mouth was stuffed with a fat cock.

“Is this okay, my queen?”

“Ahh, my queen, you’re so tight…”

It was a night full of many orgasms, your tummy heavy and full of eggs by morning.

Each bee hybrid got their turn inside of your cunt, and admittedly it was arousing to watch them jerk off to the image of you being fucked by the others, some even sucking and fucking each other because they were too impatient.

But they ended up completely satisfied, lapping softly at your cunt, licking up some of the cum and gently pushing eggs back into your pussy.

You were so, so full and kept cumming around the eggs that it was hard to keep them inside… but your attendants swooped in to take care of the aftercare and make sure you would be ready for the morning.

You yawned, resting against a fluffy bee hybrid as your little ones opened their presents in the morning. They were all so happy, giggling and carrying around their toys to show to their mama.

It was a great first Christmas with the bee hybrids, and each one of them was looking forward to next year!

[happy74827]

Joyride

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Remember kids, always look at the road when driving. It can help you avoid certain blabber mouths 🫶

WC: 2556

Category: Fluff, Annoying!Deadpool, 4th Wall Breaks, Insane Amounts of Profanity {TW: Deadpool (for obvious reasons)}

In honor of watching Deadpool 3 (super good btw), enjoy this random chaotic fic I created with the help of @yoursacredqueenmother. This is super chaotic lmfao

『••✎••』

Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

A millisecond ago, you were driving down a street. In the middle of traffic. At a red light. Now, you were panicking, looking over the front of your car for the flash of red you had just seen. It took a couple of seconds for you to realize that there was blood on your car and on the ground—a lot of blood.

"Oh, shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"

You quickly hopped out of the car, rushing to the spot you thought the person… or thing would be, but… there was nobody. There was blood on the ground but nobody.

Did you hit a deer, and it just… ran off? No, that can't be right. You definitely saw something red, and it most certainly was not a deer.

You looked around, confused. How the hell does something bleed all over the ground and then disappear without a trace?!

You got back in your car, deciding to drive to the closest police station. Maybe they knew something about this.

So, you decided to abandon the shortcut home and drive to the nearest police station, which happened to be just down the road. But as you were minutes into the drive, you felt the sudden urge to look in your rearview mirror.

And there you found your mysterious red-suited victim in the backseat, holding the biggest knife you have ever seen as his white-covered eyes stared at you from behind the mask.

You never hit the brakes faster in your life. The car made an ugly screeching sound, and the sudden force slammed the red-clad man into the back of your seat, making him let out a surprised yelp.

The car finally came to a stop, and the masked man recovered quickly, pushing himself off of your seat and glaring at you.

"Well, aren’t you just a heart break—"

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

You grabbed your keys from the ignition and popped off the attached pepper spray, turning around and squirting him in the face. He let out a scream, and you quickly got out of the car, shutting the door and running as fast as you could.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get very far. Despite being hit by a car, and subsequently getting pepper sprayed, the man (or what you assume to be) caught up with you and blocked your path, his hands on his hips, his head cocked to the side.

"Alright, lady, what the fuck?" He asked, his voice sounding nasally, most likely because of the spray.

You stared at him, confused. He looked like he was waiting for an explanation.

"W-What the fuck?! What the fuck me? What the fuck you!" You exclaimed, your voice cracking a little. "What the fuck are you doing in my car?!"

"Well, I was trying to hitch a ride! But clearly, that didn't work out. Thanks a lot, by the way, for the pain and suffering. You’ve really opened up my horizons here."

It almost sounded like he was pouting.

"What the—! A ride?! Why in the hell would you just hop into someone's car?!"

"Uhh, because you ran me over, genius! I mean, come on, the least you could do is offer a guy a ride home after that. And then, the cherry on top of the fucking sundae: pepper spray!"

The masked man, so to speak, threw his arms up in the air, and you could almost see him rolling his eyes underneath the mask. Of course, that’s when you noticed the obvious broken bones in his hands. And the blood. There was a lot of blood.

"Look," the guy started, walking closer to you. "I know, I'm a big scary guy with a big scary knife and a bad temper and all, and you’re just… well, I’m sure you have an amazing personality, but how about we put all that aside, and you give me a ride, alright? Just drop me off at the corner of 10th and 55th, and you can forget this ever happened."

"Your arm… your wrist. It's broken," you told him.

"Yeah, no shit," the man scoffed. "Got any Taylor Swift CDs in that car?"

"Uh… no, not really. Why?"

"Cause, baby, I’m Shaking It Off!"

There was a pregnant pause, and you weren't quite sure if he was being serious or not. I mean, surely he wasn’t about to just ignore the fact that his arm was the complete opposite of norm—

But when he shook his arm in a violent manner, and a loud crack followed suit, you realized, with a heavy heart, that yes, this guy was serious.

What you didn’t know until a few seconds later, however, was that he snapped his bones back into place like it was nothing. It took the flexing in his fingers to realize it, too.

"Holy shit." You truly were in awe.

He seemed to find amusement in your expression, tilting his head slightly and giving you a once-over. And, yes, you could feel his eyes on you, and for some reason, it sent a shiver down your spine.

"So… Wendy Torrance, about that ride? Can you give me a lift, or are we gonna start that chick flick moment where your mental breakdown leads to slow-motion running to a Sia song?"

You could only stare.

"Alright, well, if you're going through with the latter, then at least play something that doesn’t involve that little dancing girl who likes to wear potato sacks as clothes."

You couldn’t believe this was happening.

"You are literally insane." You breathed out, shaking your head.

Even if you couldn’t see it, something told you that he made the biggest grin underneath his mask.

"Why, thank you, darling."

Fast forward a couple of minutes, and you found yourself driving towards the address the red-suited stranger had given you. You couldn’t really make conversation. He had his hands in his lap, playing with a knife, and was staring at you, his head tilted.

"You can blink, you know. I'm not a zombie," he informed you, making a gesture to his mask and eyes, which you assumed he was blinking underneath.

"Right," you nodded.

“Well, mostly, at least. I mean, I still have a pulse, but it's kind of irregular, and I think it's because I keep getting shot and stabbed in the heart. Oh, and I guess I'm also pretty much immortal, so that's probably the reason. But I think the whole not-dying thing cancels out the heartbeat thing, right? Like, the more times you get impaled or decapitated or set on fire, the more it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t affect you anymore, am I right?"

You glanced at him. He was staring at you, his hands still and his knife resting on his leg.

"…Do you ever shut up?"

"Woah-hoho, feisty. And here I thought I was going to break the ice with a good ol' fashioned knock knock joke."

"I don’t think that would've been funny."

"That's what the last girl said."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. Except she wasn’t talking about the joke. I made her laugh in a different way."

You glanced at him again, and he was giving you a knowing look.

"I can't decide if you're disgusting or not."

He hummed, shrugging his shoulders. That made him shut his mouth just long enough for you to turn on the radio but not long enough to avoid the inevitable.

"Hey, hey, I got a good one: Knock knock."

You let out a long sigh, closing your eyes. "Who's there?"

"Orange."

"Orange, who?"

"Orange you glad I'm not a serial killer?"

"That wasn’t even good."

"I know. It would've been better if I could've pulled the knife out of my belt. You know, just for show." He twiddled his fingers at you.

"That wouldn’t have helped," you said.

"Nope," he agreed. "But it would've made a great story."

"I suppose."

"Yeah. Hey, hey, I got another one: Knock knock."

"You just—"

"Knock knock."

You let out a huff. This man was the most childish, annoying, idiotic, strange, weird—

"Knock knock."

"Oh, just fucking tell me the joke!"

"No! It doesn't work that way!"

You rolled your eyes, but before you could answer, he beat you to it.

"Okay, okay, how about this: Knock knock."

You didn't say anything.

"Knock knock."

Your eyes flickered over to him for a second.

"Knock knock."

"For fucks sake!" You exclaimed. "Who's there?"

He leaned forward, closer to you, and you could see his mouth moving.

"Deadpool."

You were confused.

"D-Deadpool? Is this a reference to that shitty horror movie? If so, that wasn't even good, and I'm not laughing, and I don't get the joke."

He just gave you a blank look, or at least you thought he did.

"No. My name's Deadpool."

"That’s…" you trailed off. "A pretty dumb name. Like that outfit you're wearing."

"Hey! Diss the name all you want, but don’t you dare diss the suit. It's my trademark. Not everyone can pull off this type of look; it’s a very rare art."

"Whatever. You still haven't told me the punch line to your dumb joke."

"Punch line? I never said there was a punch line. It was a knock knock joke."

"So then… What was the point? To annoy the driver into wanting to run you over again?"

He chuckled, a low, deep sound that vibrated in his throat. That… That was… oh.

He was still close, and now, with the new angle, you could see the small, yet very visible, curve of his lips, and that made you wonder who was actually hiding behind the mask.

"You are seriously the strangest person I've ever met."

"Oh, babe, you don't even know the half of it."

"Please, enlighten me," you replied sarcastically, glancing over at him.

His masked eyes looked into yours, and you knew he was grinning; you could practically feel it.

"What do you wanna know?" He asked.

"Uh, I don't know. Something other than the fact that you're a nutcase. How about your real name? It's obviously not 'Deadpool,' and I doubt anyone actually calls you that. So, what's your actual name?"

"Oh, wow. Right off the bat, huh? You know, the last girl I was with wasn’t nearly as direct. Then again, she never sprayed me like I was a roach in her kitchen."

You didn’t respond. You kept your eyes on the road.

"Fine," he relented. "But don’t expect a happy ending. This isn’t Kanas anymore, Toto."

He leaned back in his seat, his arm hanging off the open window, the wind blowing through his red suit.

"Names Wade, like the boxers, but without the fancy pants."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Wade Winston Wilson, I love long walks on the beach, and a good movie, and tacos, and chimichangas, and guns. Especially guns. Kinky, but not too kinky… and did I mention the tacos? Cause I love fucking love tacos."

Maybe you should start carrying tape around.

"What about you, sugar lips?" He asked, gesturing to you with the hand he wasn’t leaning against. "Got a name, or can I call you mine? Ooh, I should’ve used that before the pepper spray. 'What's your name, or can I call you mine?' Classic, Wade. Well, except for the fact that I forgot the 'I'd like to hit it from the back' part. Damn, should have used that, too. It's a good thing they gave you the lead. Otherwise, the audience would've been confused. They would've been wondering, 'Why did the writer suddenly change the dialogue to be about sex? Wasn’t this supposed to be that pure Notebook love story we all wanted?'"

He paused for a moment.

"Wait a minute. Are we still doing the monologue thing, or is the writer done? Cause, no offense, but that was a shitty transition. And, come on, no one wants a Notebook love story anymore. Who writes those? What we need is a little romance and a whole lotta smut."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Me? Nothing, just giving some feedback. I've always had an open relationship with writers. Some might even call me the next J.K Rowling. Except, instead of a lighting scar and magic, I have an ass load of weapons with an insatiable lust for violence and blood. And tacos."

You decided to ignore him.

"Anyway, back to you. You never answered my question. Do you have a name or not?"

"I can’t believe I actually agreed to give you a ride home."

"Yeah," he said, sounding bored. "Why did you do that?"

"I don’t know. Because I hit you with my car and felt bad? You had a broken arm and were bleeding out all over the ground."

"First sign of insanity."

"What?"

"Nothing," his mask wiggled around the area of his eyebrows. "So, your name? Don’t tell me you’re gonna pull out the classic yes and no abbreviations. You know what? I’m just gonna call you Spidey. It's easier, and it’ll sound sexier when you're screaming it later."

You rolled your eyes, deciding just to ignore his comments for the rest of the drive. You were wishing that you didn't live in a city full of traffic cause, damn, this was taking a while.

"Alright, turn here."

You followed the directions and pulled up in front of an abandoned-looking building. You didn't say anything, but you did raise an eyebrow in question.

"What? A guy like me has to keep his place secret, especially when the fangirls are after him."

"I didn’t ask."

"Yeah, but I saw you wondering."

"Right."

"Hey, Spidey," he said, unbuckling his seat belt. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem. Just make sure to keep your ass away from car bumpers. And out of my car."

"Awe, come on, baby cakes, don't be like that. You're really missing out. My ass is the finest in the business. Not to mention my package. You should see the reviews I get online."

You snorted. "I'll take your word for it."

"Yeah, you will," he said, leaning over and patting your cheek. "Hey, if you ever get lonely, or bored, or horny, or whatever, just give me a call. Here," he handed you a crumpled piece of paper. "Don't lose it, that's my number. We should totally bang, like, tomorrow, or tonight, or right now."

"Goodbye, Wade," you said, and he took it as his cue to leave. He gave a silly salute and exited the car, but not without giving you a wink first.

"See you soon, Spidey!"

With that, he walked up to the building and disappeared inside. With a sigh, you collapsed into the seat, not even bothering to watch him. You were exhausted, and all you wanted was to go home and sleep.

After a couple of minutes of relishing the nice breeze that came through the open windows, you sat up and un-crinkled the paper.

The only thing written on it was a phone number, with a small, messy, red heart and a few words that honestly had you questioning the sanity of the world:

'If you're lucky, maybe I'll even let you top. ;)'

——

Spoiler alert: it took about a month for the two of you to hook up.

And no, you did not have Domino’s luck.

[xinganhao]

🫶 svt reacts to you saying 'i love you' on accident.

★ prompt: Ot13 reaction to you saying I love you for the first time (possibly kind of by accident) 🥰 c/o anon

ⓘ friends to lovers vibes, flirting, pet names. headcanons under the cut.

🫶 read more?

seungcheol tries to take it in stride. really, he does. he's convinced he can be very normal about this, even though it will probably have him preening the whole day. he's always thrived most on words of affirmation, and what's more affirming than the truth?

jeonghan's joking, of course. he knows deep down that your little slip doesn't immediately entail a relationship, but he's definitely intent on going out swinging. the light teasing is an attempt to get you to think about a time where you can freely say 'i love you' to him every day.

there's a fair amount of sincerity in joshua's reaction. his first thought is to make sure that you're okay with it, since he has some idea that you've probably tripped on the words. but give him that leeway and he'll take it in a heartbeat. you've started saying it; he'll never let you hear the end of it.

if junhui manages to feign nonchalance, it's because of his acting prowess. he's smug and giddy, though he's not about to let you know that. he's the type to pull the rug underneath you a couple of days later, right when you've probably forgotten it. "so…" he'll drawl. "how much do you love me, hm?"

to no one's surprise, soonyoung is decisively not chill about it. this is A Big Deal to him! an 'i love you'? something he's wanted to hear for ages? he needs to make sure he's not dreaming. there's the dopiest smile on his face, because you love him. it's the best thing he's heard.

wonwoo's hands are shaking. his throat is suddenly dry, and he's relatively sure his brain has short-circuited. it's— just an offhand thing. at least that's what he tries to convince himself. the reality: he's going to be replaying the words in his head for weeks on end.

it doesn't strike jihoon immediately. maybe it hits him once you're gone; maybe it occurs to him when the moment has already passed. one thing's for sure: he's not going to let it go unanswered. he's a little late, not on time, but that doesn't mean he doesn't mean it. you know that, right?

the words make something bloom and blossom in seokmin's chest. they take root like a promise, and even though he tries not to get ahead of itself, it's hard. he's so, so happy to hear it from you that he'll be walking on clouds for the days to come.

mingyu doesn't hate you. that much is certain. he just hates the power you have over him— how you can upend his entire day with a couple of choice words. he had thought he'd be stronger than this, but here he is. panicking because of 'ily'? god, he can't afford to be in shambles like this.

ever the rational type, minghao will be the type to press, "how do you love me?" he can't afford any missteps, needs to know you're on the same page. if you love him as a friend, then so be it. but if there's a prospect for anything more, even just a minute worth of it… well. he would like to know.

joking about it is a coping mechanism. that's something seungkwan subscribes to, at the very least. it gives him time to gather his wits, this whole keeping-up-a-facade thing. (ask anyone: he had been smiling a little too hard at his phone when your text came in. the eyes never lie.)

rarely is vernon thrown off his game like this. he's not supposed to be melting over a flippant 'ily', and yet here he is— trying (and failing) to be cool about your slip-up. can you blame him? he's wanted you for so long, and the words can be as good as a promise if he really wanted them to be.

you're not playing fair. chan has half a mind to make you suffer, to not give you the satisfaction of a reaction. alas, he's always had a soft spot for you. that extends to unquestioning forgiveness, and reciprocity where it matters. yes, even in accidental confessions.

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

[madamechrissy]

Cursed Promises

Pairings: Sukuna x Fem reader

CW: This chap, loss of virginity (reader's) Sukuna fks reader with both his cocks, (yayyy) lots of use of all his tongues and mouths, some semi public play, Sukuna calls you little bunny and slutty/whore etc, soft Sukuna, he's falling fast tbh, reader is falling quicker, lil bit of degradation, true form Sukuna, THIS CHAP IS ALMOST ALL SMUT lol you're warned.

Summary: You have been promised to Ryomen Sukuna, King of curses, for as long as you've been alive, ostracized from your village, 'special'. Now you are to marry him, sight unseen. People everywhere fear him, but will you find yourself intrigued by him. Just who is the King of Curses to his new wife? Arranged marriage au

A/N: This is ALL fluff and SMUT lol, Four Parts, you're not gonna get much plot, I really wanted monsterfucking and them being cute!? don't ask.- WC this chap-7.2k

Comments/ reblogs appreciated if you like this silly stuff ❤️

<<<Part Two part four>>>

Part Three

One week Later

You have not seen the King of curses for days, he had gone off to take care of some disturbances amassing, and was not coming home until hopefully tonight. You find yourself looking hopefully every time there is a knock on your door to your chambers, or every time you hear horses pull up out front. But it’s not him, and the worst?

You did not get to tell him goodbye beforehand.

Of course, he does not owe you such things, and it was very new, but you already have grown to be enamored with him, so very intrigued, and… of course you desire him. It’s written all over your body, all over your face, even days later you have bruises decorating your waist and hips from where his strong hands gripped, little scratches healing where nails had pressed in

You remember the feeling, so blissful that night right on the dining table, he’d brought you so much pleasure you felt more drunk than any amount of wine could ever make you. You can’t even imagine how it could get better, how there could be even more to sex than that, but then you remember those hard cocks, pressed against your eager pussy.

Heat creeps to your cheeks at such a memory, you are pacing the halls when Uraume comes up to you, a little smile on their delicate features.

“The King has arrived.” Uraume says now, and your breath catches, you let out an embarrassing squeal, that you quickly try to hide, clearing your throat and tucking back your hair.

“Apologies, Uraume.” You bow your head, trying to regain composure.

“You’re very excited, I see.”

You sigh. “Very.”

“He wants you to meet him in the Onsen, I shall lead you there.” You heat up all over again, at the thought of being with the King there.

“Will we be alone?” You murmur, while Uraume leads you out, they tilt their head curiously at you.

“Are you asking if his concubines will bathe with you as well? No, the King has asked for you both to be alone.” You truly give up trying to hide how pleased this makes you.

You should not expect such treatment, it is not how things are even done, a King is expected to engage with his concubines and have several babies, have many heirs, it’s a sign of his fertility. You see them talking about you as they walk through the halls, in elegant kimonos showcasing much of their sleek forms, whispering behind their hands at you.

You cannot help but resent them, knowing they have had him, but it was surely foolish, they have done more than you already have with him, but you are ready, to truly give the King yourself. Though there is much to learn about the somehow cruel yet kind man, one thing was certain.

You want him.

A lady’s maid helps you undress, until you’re completely naked, your chest rising and falling with each nervous breath. You take the wrapped clothes and towel as you nervously slide the door open, feeling the hot steam rise, you see it then, his strong, muscled back as he is alone in the spring. Your eyes assess every inch you get to see greedily.

“Shut the door, bunny, you’ll let all the steam out.” Sukuna’s rough voice says then, you quickly do as he asks, setting the clothes and towel down, stepping into the hot bath now, exhaling as the heat sinks into your skin, relaxing every bit of your muscles when you step deeper.

He’s covered in new scars you notice faintly with a frown, he already had many, but as you step closer you get the full view of just how many he has. You stand there behind his towering form, water up to your breasts, when he looks back at you over his shoulder, red eyes assessing you hungrily.

“Wash my back, brat, or are you afraid?” You take the washcloth from his hands now, gently running it up and down.

“You asked for just me here, my King?” Your voice is soft, Sukuna leans his neck side to side, sighing while you gently scrub his skin.

“One bunny should be enough to wash me.” You snort, and he turns now, snatching your wrist, your hand an inch from his skin. “You laugh at me? More insolent from just a few days ago?”

“N-no, sorry my King.” You go to wash his chest, eyes darting up to his here and there, two of his hands rest on your naked waist under the water while his head tilts to study you.

“Something to say? Bunny looks angry.” His tone is mocking, you scowl up at him then, earning a wide grin.

“Ever think that I just missed you!?” He pauses then, four red eyes narrowing, stepping back away from you then. “What?”

“Miss me, you’re fucking foolish. All some ploy to toy with me?” He demands, cupping your chin, long fingers taking it over.

“What, no one has ever said they missed you?” You ask, softer, his grip relaxes, but he’s still cupping you under your chin, thumb over your fluttering little pulse.

“How can you? You do not know me hardly yet to come to miss me. Do you know who I am!?”

“I do, and I missed you. So what, going to order me not to?”

He exhales, stepping closer, the steam enwrapping you all in the beautiful room, lotus flowers floating in the softly undulating water, which laps over his torso and your chest softly. “Why?”

“Why do I miss you? I do not know exactly how to put it into words, I just…” You worry your lower lip nervously, pulling your wrist out of his hold, to rest your hand on his chest, feeling his pounding heart beat under hot skin. “I was very sad without you, and longed for your return.”

“Tch, you are so whiny.” You glare again, but he pulls you against him fully, you blush when you feel his lengths against you, when he leans low, wrapping two arms around you. “I suppose I also wished to hear your annoying voice, and see your stupidly pretty face.”

You brighten up, earning an eye roll. “You did!?”

“Shut it.” He kisses you then, brutal and hungry, you melt into the embrace, his bites making your lips tingle and burn, sharp tongue drinking your every cry, two hands gripping your ass, lifting you until your legs are around his waist, you feel his cocks pressing against you from under, you’re so close to him, grinding now, earning his groan.

The groan urges you on, you’re pressed against the wall of the bath, slick cunt gliding on the length of one of his cocks, his tongue on his stomach shoots out, licking your clitoris, and your head falls back for his sharp teeth. He bites you so hard it breaks your flesh, a trickle of blood falling down your collar bone, which his mouth drinks up, you see the blood on his chin, making him terrifying.

Terrifying and so sexy, you cannot take it then, you swipe some of your blood off him, kissing him and tasting it, the copper of it mixed with his heady taste. You’re rolling your hips, slick and hot against his abdomen, your own nails pressing against him, feeling the strong muscles tense under you.

He lifts you out of the bath then suddenly, you gasp, both of you are dripping water droplets everywhere, the steam floating up and surrounding you both, the room is so warm you are only shivering from desire. Sukuna has you on your back on several fluffy towels, leaning his heavy weight on you. You continue to be devoured by him, he’s kissing down your neck, to your breasts.

“This body, fuck.” He growls out the words, huffing while he sucks on your nipples, fingers slipping down your tummy, which trembles under his rough fingers, your back arching.

“Please, my King, touch me.” You beg now, he takes two fingers while two hands spread your thighs, sinking two thick fingers in your cunt, making you scream, while he presses up over and over on that spongy spot in your eager hole.

“Soaking wet, and begging, you’re so easy, so desperate, hmm?” You manage a glare, which he seems to entice him, he’s grinning down at you.

You take one of his cocks in your hand, watching him fall apart from a touch, his red eyes dilating so that they’re all almost black, hands touching every inch of skin he can find. “You’re so easy, mmm did you miss me?”

“I did not miss you at all, damned brat.” You giggle, but then his fingers are replaced by the head of one of his cocks, the other resting on top of your clit. You gasp as you feel the mushroomed reddened tip against that slick, the other dripping precum on you, creating pressure just from that. “Nothing else to say?”

“I… you… n-no, y-yes!” He doesn’t make fun of your pathetic little attempt to speak this time, he exhales, pressing in, and you feel so stretched just by his tip it’s insanity, even two of his fingers could not prepare you.

He sinks deeper then, pushing past that barrier, and you scream out, he pauses, leaning over you and allowing you to adjust, before pulling back, he’s on his knees, two hands gripping your hips, your back arches off the floor. Your hair is splayed on the towels, soaking wet still, while he stretches and fills you. You both moan out when your walls spasm around him.

“You’re… t-too big…” You whine, much to his amusement, two of his hands grip your breasts, the tongues lapping out all over them.

“I’m barely in, brat.” You gasp, eyes wide open, looking down, and he pushes even further, your wetness pooling around him, making it easier for Sukuna’s cock to sink even deeper in your little hole. “Still not even half in, f-fuck you’re too tight… loosen up this instant, I command it!”

“Loosen!? What!? Ah!” You scream out as he stuffs you more, and soon the pain is dissipating, replaced by insane pleasure, he moans out now, his cock inside you and the other, grinding on your clit, when he pulls that one out, leaning you up, pressing the other one inside you now, the lower cock grinding against your ass, feeling so lewd and so good.

“That’s it, look at you, taking me so well, cunt is made for her king.” He’s huffing now, and chuckles, grabbing your chin when your eyes roll back. “Look, fucking you so deep- ha. Can see me.”

You look down, seeing the bulge of your tummy as he moves slowly inside of you, only serving to make you wetter, more sensitive, you scream out then when he sinks so deep he hits your cervix, bottoming out in you. The sight is so wanton and lewd, only serving to make you wetter, more sensitive, your eyes shoot back to his, he’s watching his cock move in you, watching your tummy move.

“Going to ruin you, little prey.” Sukuna is whispering the words, and you are wriggling under him at the pressure, at the stimulation, his tongue in his stomach lapping at your clit again, then.

“Too much, too much I’m - ah!” You shatter then, falling apart all around the thick cock pummeling you now, faster and harder, his huge body overtaking you, you’re seeing little glittery stars, more intense than you’ve felt before with him even.

“That’s it, cumming so easy, your first time, too?” He’s teasing you with a gruff voice, you’re too far gone now though, not even here anymore, shaking as you struggle to stay tethered. “Ready for me to stop taking it easy?”

“Taking it easy- wh-what now?” He’s grinning wickedly, those four eyes all lidded, when he presses your thighs up high, folding you in half. “Sukuna!”

“You can take it bunny, be a good girl would you?” You’re being pumped so full then it’s insane, you hear the loud smacks of skin while one of his cocks is fucking into your heat, he keeps dragging you on each one, your cunt is drooling down their veiny lengths, while your mouth is drooling, he swipes some of it with a smirk. “Pathetic, fucked out little bunny.”

You want to retort, you want to glare, but you are indeed pathetic, when he’s fucking you like this, harder and harder, so deep as he smushes your body, you feel like you’re splitting in half. Just as you get used to one sensation, one hand is licking your tits, your neck, his tongues alternate lapping at your clit, his cock shifts to the other one. Now he’s thickening in you, two hands pulling on your hair.

“Can’t wait till I can put both in you… fill your body fucking everywhere.” Your cunt is so slick it’s slippery, even as huge as he is, she’s sucking him in, and it feels so fucking good, him fucking into you over and over. “Feel so fucking- f-fuck…”

Sukuna is cussing, that mixing with the squelching wetness and loud slaps of skin intermingles with your cries, echoing in the Onsen. You wriggle to pull back but he pins your hips, Sukuna is pounding your pussy beyond its limits, switching cocks again, while his hands and mouths devour every inch of you, littering you with marks and bruises that you crave.

“That’s it, bunny, want this heir inside of you? I’m going to put one there, right fucking there.” He whispers, pressing a hand on your tummy, and you whine pathetically unable to form a coherent thought. “Beg for it, to get filled by your king.”

“P-please, f-fill me. Give me… your heir…” You manage to squeak out, you can barely recognize your hoarse little whimper, while Sukuna growls right above you, your hands yank him down by his broad muscled shoulders, pulling his mouth to yours. “K-kiss me.”

“Demanding little-” Too late, you’re pulling this strong man down on you, while his hands press into the backs of your thighs bruisingly and his cock is shoved so deep, he moans right into your lips, as he brings you again, his tip dragging against your spot in your walls, while one of his tongue shoots out on your clit again, circling the little nub while he moans into your mouth.

“S-Sukuna!” You scream out hoarsely, unlatching your lips, taking several greedy breaths while he pushes so deep, drooling tip on your cervix. He gasps himself now, tensing, as you both kiss sloppy, he pulls back and exhales against your lips.

“Let me feel you cumming on my cock again, Bunny. Now.” You let him think it’s his order, but you’re already there, orgasm blinding you, your head would slam on the floor if one of his hands wasn’t carefully resting under it, you cum all over his cock, dripping everywhere, while he fills you so full, groaning against your lips.

Your walls are pulsing around his thick cock, milking him for everything he has, and he’s cumming so much, one cock filling you while the other pumps hot sticky cum on your tummy, painting your skin in white rope patterns. It stretches from your belly button up between your breasts. The heat of his cum makes you clench around him, while his strong arms drag you further on his length.

“S-Sukuna!” You’re sobbing now, you can barely fucking breathe when he’s still got you stuffed so full.

“Took all of it, and need more? You have such a greedy cunt.” Sukuna whispers, you try to focus on his face, try to bring yourself to, entire body tingling from the sensations.

“F-fuck…” Is all you manage, he snorts a bit, pulling out, moaning as the fluids of his cum and yours pour out of your abused pussy.

“Such a nasty mouth.” You halfheartedly glare, but it falls flat, when he’s bent down, pulling your puffy lips apart, the most satisfied smirk ever on his face. He then presses his fingers down the sticky substance coating your tummy, pussy, thighs, it’s all over, the mess he’s made you into.

“You’re so messy.” He bursts into a booming laughter at you now, he then dips a cloth into the water, handing it to you. “You’ll do it.”

“What now?” He raises a brow, and you raise one back.

“You made the mess, you will clean it.” He scoffs at you, but you shove the washcloth back in his hand, smiling and batting your lashes. “Go on now.”

“You insolent little brat. I am not your servant, I’m your king.” He cleans you though, swiping the mess off your tummy, then to your pussy, chuckling. “Wrecked you didn’t I?”

“Why did I miss you!? Ow!” You hiss now, blanching a bit when you see a little blood on the cloth. “What is-”

“It happens the first time.” He carries on, until you’re all cleaned up, pulling you to sit now, hands tracing your bare body, still dewy from the bath. “You loved it, what a slutty virgin you were.”

“You’re so arrogant and annoying.” You smack at his hands now, going to stand, only to wobble on shaky legs. He’s laughing even more, wrapping arms around your hips.

“You can’t even fucking walk, hah! Shall I have a servant carry you, weakling?”

“Sure, naked and all, let them.” You shove off him again, knees damn near knocking when you turn away, only for Sukuna to yank you back against him, you feel the fury in his energy rising. “What is it, my King? Aren’t you done?”

“Done with you? Fuck no.” He starts walking you to where the towels are, wrapping you carefully, slinging a towel over his hips low, showing every inch of his tattooed, muscled frame. “Stop drooling, human.”

“You’re infuriating!” You feel it then, emotions of what just happened, finally hitting, when your mind is trying to piece together what happened.

“Tch, don’t start that crying now. I have told you it irritates me.” He cups your face, tilting your chin up as he leans down. “Stop it.”

“You’re arrogant and conceited, and rude! Do you not know… how it feels to for the first… how I…”

“Stop. I order it.”

“You can’t order tears away, all right? I want you to hold me, not laugh at me.” He tenses, hating the sight of the tears glimmering now.

“You’re so demanding, can’t you be a good wife, an easy one?”

“I suppose I cannot.” You turn and stomp out now, only for King Sukuna to chase you out in his towel. “Go away!”

“Don’t you dare speak that way.”

“Ah!” Sukuna has hoisted you over his shoulders as the concubines walk by, many of them eyeing you, Sukuna glares at them.

“What the fuck are you all looking at?” His towel drops then, and they are now giggling, Sukuna sets you on the floor, looking only at you. “Fix my towel, wife.”

You bend down, grabbing it with shaky hands, while they start whispering again amongst themselves, the guards are also watching with surprise and amusement while you tie a knot around his thick hips. The bulge of his cocks, which are still semi hard, is apparent, earning the ogling of the women.

Sukuna however just grabs you by the wrist, dragging you past them, without a look, turning when you get to his bedroom door and smirking down at you. “You’re a jealous brat.”

“Am not!” You cross your arms, huffing, but you do smile as you hear their footsteps scampering. “Your chambers?”

“Indeed, I said I’m not done with you.” He opens the heavy door, revealing the grand chamber that is his own, filled with ornate furniture, silk curtains billowing from the windows. A massive bed that could fit a dozen people adorned with crushed purple velvet covers and a black canopy.

“Your bed is so…”

“It’s made to fit many women. But my itty bitty bunny seems greedy.” He murmurs, shutting the door behind him with a resounding click, you exhale, walking to it, dropping your towel on the floor and peering over your shoulder. “Fuck… that backside will looks so good with my handprints.”

“Your handprints?” He walks to you, pausing your hand that is touching the soft blankets.

“Bend over.” His order thrills and terrifies you.

“No.”

“No!?” You grin, moaning softly when he does lift you, your legs dangling off the tall mattress, suspended there with your ass shown to him, earning a loud smack that you gasp at. “I see I will need to discipline you, hmm?”

“It is your duty as a husband.” You murmur, moaning when he smacks you again, two of his hands are spreading your ass cheeks apart, exposing your heat to his vision, he moans behind you.

“This gets you wet? Does everything I do get you wet?” He smacks you again, you just moan, you cannot help it, the pain just urges your drippy cunt on, still having him leak out of you.

“Y-yes, my King. It does- mnh.” Sukuna climbs on the bed, propping you on all fours, one hand shoving your face into the mattress, you hear the creak of his weight sinking on it, before you feel something hot and sticky drip down your ass. “What are you doing?”

He smacks your pussy now, you scream out into the pillow, while his saliva drips down your open pussy, then you feel his tongue lapping at you again. “You’re still pouring my seed out, perhaps I need to put more in you?” You moan then, shifting your hips, he chuckles. “So fucking eager.”

“You love it.” He pauses, lifting his hand off your head, you look back and bite your lip, shaky and overstimulated, but you want it, all of him again. “I am sore though, ah!”

“We need you to get used to this, I will not just fuck my bride once and call it a day.” His tongue slips inside your folds, pressing deeper, cleaning out all of his cum that’s left, slipping up to lap at your ass hole, he laughs as you squeak. “Ah and that’s your other hole.”

“I… you… now!? I…”

He clicks his tongue, letting his hand now grip your backside instead. “Not yet, calm down. Prissy bunny.”

“M’not- oh, oh!” He’s slipped a thumb inside your little ass hole now, moaning out as you do at the sensation, while he starts rubbing each tip back between your sore lips, precum already dripping out of them.

“You like it, such a whore already huh?” You should hate the term, but the way he says it, so pleasing. “My whore, aren’t you?”

“M’yours- Sukuna!” He’s pressing one tip, then the other, his body tensing as he feels your tight cunt drooling on them. “Not both, there’s no way I can.”

Sukuna rolls all four eyes, slipping between your folds, pressing one of his cock heads in, then the other. “Not all the way in, relax. An order.”

You’re still tense, while two strong hands spread your thighs while the other two run up and down your back, then he smacks your ass again. “Ah!”

“Breathe.”

You exhale nervously, and then you feel one tip press in, he fucks you just barely with it, you damn near cum from just that, before he’s got the other tip slipping in your entrance, his fingers leaving your ass and he’s rubbing a tip there too. You tense all over again, earning another smack.

“Relax, an order.” You exhale, nodding, and soon both tips are pressed in your tiny entrance, stretching you beyond your means, you can barely breathe, while he’s tensing behind you, pressing them both in, they rub and drool together while you feel the insane pressure in your lower tummy.

“Too much, too much!” You whine, and he exhales, pulling one out, sliding one fully in now, to the hilt. “Ah! S’good… please…”

“Please what, slutty fucking brat?” He huffs the words, you’re clutching the soft velvet with your hands, when he takes them and bounds them behind your wrist, fucking you harder and harder. “Fuck you feel so… perfect this cunt is… m-made… for…”

You swear you hear the King of Curses whimper.

Surely it was an illusion?

“More, please.” Is all you whine, and he does just that, pulling back out and slipping both tips in your cunt he’s stretched so well, he can only get the tips in still, but you’re cumming all over them, while your wrists are in his brutal grip, he’s rolling his hips, feeling you grip him like a fucking vise.

“F-Fuck.” He whispers your name then, not bunny or brat, a desperate cry escaping his mouth when he pumps his two tips in you over and over, gummy little walls and that tight ring of muscles stretching and gushing to accommodate. “That’s it, cum f’me, huh?”

You’re screaming against the soft pillows while you do, cumming all over the thick invasion in your cunt, they can’t even go deeper, she won’t allow it, but she’s throbbing around his drooly tips, begging for it, for more. He’s gripping your hips while he’s gripping your wrists, you’re at his mercy, helpless.

“Feel her, f-fuck. M’gonna cum in her again, both of em. Is that what you want?” You nod weakly. “Then say you want me to, now.” He uses a fourth hand to smack your ass, the smack echoing in the room, stinging. You turn your head to look back at him, gasping for a breath.

“Cum in me… with both. Please, Sukuna.” He groans out, pumping fast for a moment, his tips alone are burning your skin, he sinks just an inch in deeper, the stretch exhilarating, and then he starts spurting. “Ah!”

“Getting you pregnant tonight, wife, filling your fucking stomach with me.” He huffs, then the cum is pouring inside of your hole, the hot seed coating all your walls, bringing you to climax just from that again, you are too full, too full of him. He’s leaning over you, both cocks barely nestled, while he puts his lips to your ear. “Feel me?”

“All of you.” Your words and your cunt contracting make him sensitive, earning more seed sucked out, he pulls back and leans back to watch it all pour out while you weakly cry against the blankets, overwhelmed and fucked out.

“Look at how good she did.” He muses, and then his face is between your thighs, his tongue lapping at the drooling cum oozing out. “Taste us together.”

He pulls you up by your hair, arching your back, you open obediently as he spits in your mouth now, his cum, yours, and his saliva dripping, you swallow it, before he’s kissing you just like that, head upside down for his kisses, his hands everywhere on your bruised body. Soon he’s got you flipped and you’re straddling him, tears pouring on your cheeks.

“I’ll have my heir in your tummy by the end of the night, won’t I Bunny?” You nod weakly, wincing when he slides against your cunt.

“Ah-ah-ah!”

“You’re weak, can’t go again?” He earns a little shake of your head and a sniffle. “Fine, fine… I’ll let your pathetic human body rest.”

“Pathetic!?”

“Pretty but pathetic.” Soon he’s dressed in his robes, and you’re so weak you can barely move. You look at him through sleepy eyes.

“Must I leave now?”

“Tch, no, you may stay.”

“The night!?”

Sukuna rolls all four eyes. “If you must.”

“Yay!” You giggle, energy abounding suddenly, you jump off the bed and pull him down by his robes.

“So happy from just that?” He raises a brow, you just nod, pulling him for a kiss, hand entangled in pastel locks. He pulls back and cups your face, overwhelming you with all the emotions he unknowingly elicits, when your tummy growls.

“I’m so sorry!” You mumble, but he smirks.

“You need to eat, get your strength for another round.”

“No more rounds tonight, I cannot handle it.”

“You’ve got another in you. But you will eat, I’ll have them bring you up a tray of dinner. I still have much to do.” You pout. “What’s that look!?”

“An - I want another kiss- look.” He snorts, but obliges, hot lips on yours once more.

“You enjoy that overmuch, look at you all pleased.” You grin big, he pretends it doesn’t make his chest ache.

“Kissing you? Yes. I think it’s my new favorite thing.” You murmur, but he tenses just a bit at that, confused by you, before his shoulders relax and his lips are turned up at the corners.

“You’re cockdrunk again, little slut.” He loves how mad you get, while you cross your arms under those breasts, making him hard all over again.

“Am not!”

“Are so. Need another round?” He runs his fingers through your messy hair, a sheen of sweat making your smooth skin glitter.

“I hurt, though Sukuna.” You say with a pout.

He sighs in annoyance. “You’re such a baby. Now let me leave.” He steps back, shooting you a look, eyes drinking in your bare skin. “I’ll send up some things like your robes to keep in my chambers.”

Staying in Sukuna’s chambers!?

“Could you not look so pleased?” You straighten up, bowing your head, to his amusement as he steps out, he doesn’t see the silly giggle you do, and you don’t see his little hint of a smile.

What sort of bride has he gotten?

*****

Sukuna comes in later that night and sees you lightly snoring, so small in his enormous bed, curled in a little ball shivering, somehow you’ve kicked the blankets off you he notices. He undresses and slips under the covers, he’s of course had many women in his bed, but for some reason he is just a little nervous, until you blink sleepy eyes at him.

“Kuna.” You murmur, he snorts at that, while you turn to him, snuggling up, your icy hands and feet pressing against his hot skin.

“What is that name, and why are you so cold, woman? Cease touching me this very instant.” He tries to push you away, but you snuggle even closer. “You little pest, I swear to the gods.”

“You’re so warm, Kuna. Mmm.” Again, he hears the name, while you snuggle to him for warmth, curled up like a damn cat, warming up your chilled fingers while his hands all hold away from you, unsure of just what to fucking do with you.

“I will kick you on the fucking floor if you do not warm up.” You blink sleepy eyes up at him, cupping his face now, he glares at you.

“I am warming up, on you.” You scooch even closer, loving the feeling of his warm, hot body on yours. “I touched myself while you were gone.”

“What now!?” You’re giggling again, head in a daze from his orgasms and the wine that came with dinner, a meal you devoured, fucking certainly worked up an appetite it seems.

“Yes, but I did not do a good job, I think I have much to learn.”

“You will not touch yourself without me here again, that’s an order.” You smile against his chest, snuggling even closer, enjoying him tensing.

“Oh, why not?”

“Because…” He slips a hand under your robe, pressing against your aching cunt, slipping his fingers between glistening folds. You moan softly. “She is mine. I’ll not have you touching her without my permission.”

“Yours?” You whisper, he snorts, shoving your head back against him.

“How did I get the most annoying bride? Was there no one else in the village but your bratty ass?”

You scoff, before inhaling his scent, so musky and alluring. “Meanie. Hmm, you smell so good, Kuna.”

“Cease that stupid name, now. And why are you sniffing me?”

“Hmm, but you call me bunny.” You mumble, yawning. “And you sniff my hair and neck, so.”

“Psh.” He will not say so, but he’s enjoying you all over him far too much, you snuggling him, your tiny little body against his enormous one. He wants to protect you from anything and everything, it’s all setting in, he hates it, the irritating feeling clenching his chest.

And you feel like he will protect you, his four arms wrapping around you finally, wide muscled thigh pressing between your legs, he feels so perfect and warm. You’re still aching from earlier, where he’s just touched, but you damn near could go again, she’s throbbing around nothing when one of his huge hands presses on your back, and the other brushes across your cheek.

“Can I stay here every night?” You ask, eyes shutting again, you battle to keep them open, but you’re losing.

“Every night? How annoying.” Sukuna can’t really imagine you not staying here every night, though. “Sleep before I occupy your bratty mouth.”

“Again!?” You feel his cocks start to press against you, he chuckles, shaking his entire body.

“I could go all day and all night. Ah, shutting up now I see?”

You are already drifting off to sleep in your new husband’s arms, you thought it would be so terrible, losing your innocence, laying under him, bearing him a future heir, but it was as far from that as anything could be. It was amazing, your sore, aching body melting against his warmth.

You could quite get used to this.

*****

The Next Week

“Sukuna, what are you doing!?” Your voice is a hasty breath. You are sitting right on Sukuna’s lap in the throne room, as he plays with your drippy wet cunt, rolling his long, rough fingers on your engorged little clit.

“Touching my wife, why?” He whispers in your ear, while the guards align the walls, your eyes roll back, body overheating while you try to keep in your cries. “Oh you love it too, you’re so slutty.”

You frequently sit with him here, and he teases absolutely, but he is sinking two fingers in your pussy, past those gummy little walls, you can hear your squishing under your purple robes, panicking and worrying everyone else can. But it feels so fucking good, you find your hips shifting, thighs opening for more, his fingers up to his knuckles in your wetness.

He moans softly, while more people pour in, they are speaking to him of this problem or that, you’re holding in your cries, no one can see what he’s really doing with how he has you turned towards him, but you can swear they know. It was odd at first, you at every single meeting, to the other nobles, but who are they to question Sukuna? And many times you could calm him.

Somewhat.

Even fingers deep in your pussy he manages to fling someone across the room, knocking over several people like fucking bowling pins, but you sure weren’t able to complain when his tongue on his hand is lapping at you, drinking up the juices that flow all over. You’re about to cum when he pulls back, letting you get a breath, he rests his head on his fist, full of boredom.

He sucks on his fingers, smirking at you, while he handles more, you end up yawning and snuggling against him at a certain point, one of his arms wraps around you, it’s so comfortable here like this. He has to leave again tomorrow and you’re absolutely dreading it, so you’re exceptionally clingy.

“Uraume, get her ready for dinner.” He says later on, when the room has cleared. “Get off me now, brat.”

“Not leaving.” He sighs, picking you up and putting you down now.

“Go on, now. An order.” You sigh, feeling emotions stick in your throat.

“Take me with you tomorrow?”

“Absolutely not, it’s dangerous.”

“Then-”

“Go. Get. Ready. For dinner. Don’t give me that look, bunny.” You follow Uraume, they take you to get cleaned up and dressed, Sukuna loves dressing you up for dinner it seems, he has an endless amount of yukatas and jewelry.

“Will you stay for this journey?” You ask Uraume.

“No, my Queen, I'll be joining him.” You frown then, Uraume at least keeps you company when Sukuna was not here, without them you will feel far too lonely in this huge castle.

“You can’t both leave me!” Uraume finishes clasping your necklace now, sighing.

“It will not be too long.”

“But Uraume, do I not have powers?”

“Well they are not trained, and the King cannot risk you. I’m afraid until you get some training-”

“That’s it, you’ll train me!” Uraume blinks at you.

“What now?”

“Yes, you will. I want to be useful, not just flounce around in gowns.”

“The king wants you home flouncing around in gowns though, you need to eat healthy and have heirs, not go off to battles.” Their voice is so calm always, you try to pout but it just doesn’t work on them like it seems to with Sukuna, so you decide to appeal to their logic.

“Uraume, but what if something should happen here? Should I not be equipped for such-”

“See how annoying she is?” Your husband’s voice interrupts now, as he stands in front of your doorway, taking the entirety of it up.

“Kuna…”

“Kuna?” Uraume snorts now, covering their face, earning Sukuna’s glare. “Sorry, my King.”

“Cease that nickname now. What am I hearing echoing through the halls, with your loud ass voice?” You sigh, looking down, fiddling with your hands in front of your lap now. “Do not even give the look of innocence, you’ll not go with us, that was an order.”

“But what about training? You’ll make me pathetic and helpless if someone comes here and attacks the castle!”

“We have guards for that-”

“Please?” You pout, and it ruins him, as it always does. You’re making him irritatingly soft, Uraume can’t help but watch in amusement. 

“I’ll arrange for some training when I return. If you will cease pestering Uraume and get your pretty ass for dinner.” He concedes, you grin so big then, brightening your annoyingly cute face, though he won’t tell you he enjoys it.

“Yay!” You giggle, the irritating sound making him and Uraume cringe just slightly, but Uraume smiles at you and Sukuna when you’re hugging the enormous sorcerer, and he places a hand on your head, brushing your hair back.

“You in these gowns…” His voice is a husky whisper, igniting desire back within you, but when wasn’t it burning?

“Mmm, you enjoy them?” You whisper, trailing your fingers up his bare chest, tracing the black tattoos that decorate his body.

“What a stupid question.”

“I’ll have dinner sent up.” Uraume shuts the door, as the sounds of your moaning and the King’s are soon echoing through the halls.

“We should eat…” You murmur, barely noticing the click of the doors when Sukuna presses you against them, rough kisses down your throat, already peppered with bruises and marks from him. Your hands entangle in his locks, as the words in your heart start to overflow. “Sukuna, I should tell you something before you go.”

“Stop being so sappy, I’ll be fine.” He cuts you off with his hands gripping your breasts over your robe, his other hands kneading at your backside, pulling you against him.

“B-but I need to say something… you’re distracting me!” You moan out then, when he’s biting your collarbone, shoving you harder against the cold door, cupping between your thighs now, making you blinded.

You want to tell him you’re falling for him.

Would he laugh at you?

Would he believe you?

You have no clue, but now your mind is muddled, and every time you go to open your mouth, he’s taking it over again. Your heart is racing in your chest. “Kuna, let me say something first.”

“Hush, would you, woman?” Sukuna kisses you again and again, before sinking to his knees, you whine out, feeling your heat pool in your stomach. He lifts one of your legs over his broad shoulder, breath hot against you. “I’ll eat dinner alright.”

“Ah!” Sukuna’s spreading your lips and swipes his tongue up you, being edged all damn day you’re so sensitive you nearly come then and there. “You never let me finish a sentence. I need to- oh my gods.”

Sukuna’s sharp teeth bite your clit, the sensation making you gasp out, gushing honeyed arousal which he drinks with his tongue and lips. You can hear it, the sounds of him slurping you up, you’re dizzy, lips opening and closing, two red eyes glowing as they watch you, one hand steadying you, another arm wrapping your hips, pressing you against his face.

“L-love… love you…” You finally manage to speak, only for him to pause, pulling back, your slick glistening all over his face. He glares, tongue lapping out to taste you off his lips.

“What nonsense is this!?” He demands.

“Nonsense, it is not, it’s-”

“Nonsense.” You glare now as he stands, towering over you, gripping your face with two huge hands. “Fucking idiocy.”

“Really, Sukuna? That’s really how you’re going to respond?” You feel tears stinging the back of your eyes, breaths coming quicker and quicker, as his words tear you apart.

“You don’t even… that’s not… you don’t.”

“Do not tell me what I feel! Infuriating ass of a man.” Sukuna steps back then, shoving you to the side. “Really, and you’re leaving?”

“I have much to prepare for, and you’re annoying the ever loving fuck out of me. Good night.”

“Good night!?” He slams the door, and you feel yourself whirling with emotions, fucking fury at him, confusion, your body’s reaction to his play, you’re shaky and dizzy suddenly.

You sit down on the floor by the door, hugging your knees and crying into your folded arms, wishing he would come back. But the next morning he is gone, and he did not say a damn word to you, aside from a note he has written informing you of things to take care of while he is gone.

There is a little box, and inside of it is another pretty necklace that you want to fling across the room.

I hope you come to your senses while I’m gone.

Your King.

Your King!? Not your loving husband- well this was Sukuna, but still, you scoff at his audacity, setting the note down and feeling the loneliness start to sink in, and he’s just barely gone. He couldn’t even come say goodbye to you? And this is what he sends you as a farewell?

Why have you fallen in love with such an ass?

Taglist: @mistygrovesarchive @mima0127 @janrcrosssing @thejujvtsupost @clp-84 @silvarys @after-laughter-come-tears @vantedaes @liivzen @just-lilita @jdevilmadness @lixern @spaceeyhem @thisisew @bozos-r-us @zwr1tx @slootbear @pamemoonlight @xxyaoi-nationxx @jschlattsgff @alessdramawouldbenice @sukunasfavgroupie @1emma1 @nanamjai @1-800-blues-clues   @watashiwasohidesu @vynwan-cbq  @mouseyboo @imbacklovie @cyberket @chuuminn @diannana @hanham10 @arilxup88 @suna-is-my-one-and-only @yv-ania @urgirlraven @sillymortalblob @nana-thee-galaxy-g1rl @jiahu @badnbouj @forbiddenpaste

Rest in the comments! One more fluffy/smutty part hehe <3

[kateschi]

what goes unsaid

synopsis: you started to notice small things todoroki does, but you’re not sure what they mean just yet.

pairing: timeskip!todoroki shoto x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: i listened to you guys

the buzz of the office fades into background noise as you shuffle through the latest batch of mission reports.

your shoulders ache from a particularly rough day in the field, and the stiffness in your neck only serves to remind you of the long hours stretching ahead.

you rub your temples, trying to stave off the impending headache.

“rough day?”

the voice pulls you from your thoughts, low and calm with a subtle edge of concern. shoto todoroki stands in the doorway to your shared agency’s common room, his presence as composed as ever.

his hero uniform is slightly scuffed, evidence of his own busy day. still, his mismatched eyes fix on you, quiet but observant.

“yeah, you could say that,” you reply with a weak smile, closing the folder in front of you. “I’ll be fine, though. just a few reports to finish up.”

without another word, todoroki crosses the room. he places a paper cup on the desk beside you, the warm aroma of your favorite coffee wafting up immediately. you blink, glancing between him and the cup.

“thought you could use this,” he says simply, his tone casual but laced with that understated sincerity that’s so distinctly him.

your lips twitch upward despite yourself. “thanks, todoroki. you didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he replies, his voice steady as he turns to leave.

it’s not the first time he’s done something like this—little gestures that seem small on the surface but hold a surprising amount of thoughtfulness.

you’ve chalked it up to his polite nature, the way he’s always been one to notice when someone needs a hand.

but lately, those gestures seem to happen more often, and each time they do, you can’t help but wonder if there’s more behind them.

a few days later, the intensity of the work begins to weigh on you again. a gruelling mission left you feeling physically and emotionally drained, and your muscles protest every movement you make.

you collapse on the couch in the break room, still in your hero gear, too tired to even think about a shower.

todoroki walks in, fresh from the shower, his damp hair sticking to his forehead. he eyes you for a moment before disappearing into the adjacent kitchenette.

you don’t think much of it until he returns a few minutes later, setting a small ice pack on the table beside you.

“for your shoulder,” he says, nodding toward where you’d been absentmindedly massaging your arm.

you blink, caught off guard by the quiet care in the gesture. “oh, thanks. you didn’t—”

“you overextend that side sometimes,” he interrupts, his voice calm. “you should be careful.”

your mouth opens, but no words come out. instead, you nod, pressing the ice pack against your shoulder as he sits in the chair across from you. the silence that follows is surprisingly comfortable.

you can feel the weight of his gaze occasionally flicking over to you, but it’s not heavy or demanding—more like a quiet understanding, the kind that doesn’t require explanation.

there’s a certain ease between you two, even when neither of you says much.

it’s in the way todoroki always seems to anticipate what you need, how he quietly adjusts the environment around you without ever making a show of it. and for reasons you can’t fully explain, it feels…right.

the moments continue to add up, each one more subtle than the last.

after a long patrol, you find a bottle of water placed carefully on your desk with a note—drink up, you’ve been dehydrated all day.

it’s an obvious thing, but the gesture still feels personal, like he noticed something you hadn’t even considered.

the next day, you’re struggling to get through a particularly difficult set of paperwork when your phone buzzes on the table. you glance at the screen to see a message from him: how’s the report going? 

you smirk at the simplicity of it. he knew exactly what you were doing.

when you reply that you’re about to hit a wall, todoroki doesn’t respond immediately.

but later, when you make your way into the break room for a quick break, there’s a sandwich on the counter—your favorite kind, carefully wrapped in a napkin.

no note this time, just the quiet understanding that he had noticed, even from across the building.

it’s when you’re sitting on the rooftop of the agency a few weeks later that the weight of it all really hits you. the city sprawls out before you, the lights twinkling against the night sky.

you’re lost in your thoughts when the sound of footsteps pulls you back.

todoroki appears at your side, a familiar calmness in his expression. he doesn’t say anything right away, just leans against the railing beside you.

the silence between you is surprisingly comfortable, the kind that doesn’t demand to be filled. you’ve shared enough of these moments that you don’t feel the need to say anything.

“figured you’d be up here,” he says eventually, his gaze still fixed on the horizon.

you glance at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “needed a breather. what about you?”

“same,” he admits. “it’s been a long day.”

there’s something in his voice, a small shift, and for the first time, you realize just how much of an emotional weight he carries.

you’ve always known him to be calm, calculated, and collected, but there’s something more underneath, a pressure he doesn’t always show.

when he looks at you now, there’s something in his eyes—something softer, more open than usual.

“thanks for the coffee earlier,” you say, breaking the silence. “and…everything else. you don’t have to do all that, you know.”

he turns his head slightly, his gaze meeting yours. there’s a flicker of something in his expression, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift. “I know,” he says simply. “but I want to.”

his words hang in the air, quieter and more vulnerable than usual, and for the first time, you see the full weight of what he’s been doing all along.

these small gestures, these little acts of kindness, have been his way of showing something he’s never been able to put into words.

weeks pass, and despite everything happening around you—missions, deadlines, late-night training—there’s a steady rhythm to the way shoto treats you.

he’s never one to speak loudly about his emotions, but the small things he does start to stand out in a way that feels undeniable.

there are days when you catch him looking at you from across the room, his expression slightly more intense than usual.

he doesn’t say anything, but you notice the way his eyes linger a little longer than they should, as if he’s trying to figure something out.

he’s quiet around you, often lost in his thoughts, but when he speaks, it’s always with a softness that’s impossible to ignore.

it’s as if every word he says carries the weight of more than just friendship—though, he’ll never admit it outright.

it’s late one evening when the two of you find yourselves standing side by side in the agency’s common room.

the glow of the lights is soft, the building nearly empty after the day’s work. you’re both exhausted, but neither of you is quite ready to head home.

shoto hands you a fresh towel as you come out of the shower, his movements slow and deliberate. you notice how carefully he looks after even the smallest details:

making sure the towel’s warm and that the temperature in the room is just right.

you take it from him with a soft smile. “you’ve been really nice to me lately.”

shoto pauses, his eyes flicking to yours. there’s an emotion there you can’t quite place, something quiet and unspoken.

“I don’t mind,” he says, his voice steady. “I want to.”

the words hit you harder than you expect, and for a moment, you’re both silent, the air between you charged with something that hasn’t been said aloud but feels clear all the same.

you’ve always known shoto in pieces—quiet, introspective, deeply caring in his own way—but this is different. this is more.

when you step closer, your heart thumping louder than it should, he doesn’t pull away.

instead, he looks down at you, his mismatched eyes soft with something that’s not quite a confession but feels like one all the same.

“I’ve always wanted to be there for you,” he adds quietly, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I just…couldn’t figure out how.”

the quiet honesty of it leaves you breathless, and for a moment, you let the words come freely.

“you’re doing it, shoto,” you say. “you’ve been doing it.”

before either of you can say another word, the space between you seems to shrink of its own accord.

his gaze lingers on yours, and there’s a long moment of quiet before you close the small gap, your breath mingling with his.

his hand lifts, brushing against your cheek, and it’s the gentlest touch, but it sends a warmth through you that settles deep in your chest. without a word, he leans in.

and when his lips meet yours, it’s not forceful, nor is it rushed—it’s as natural as everything else that’s happened between you.

when you pull back, there’s a soft smile on his lips, a look of quiet satisfaction as he rests his forehead against yours.

“guess this makes it official,” you chuckle.

he hums, “yeah.”

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[rafey-baby]

sweet treat 5

shy!reader really wants to tell construction worker!rafe how she feels but what if he doesn’t feel the same way?�� 

c/w: the L word, mostly fluff, her being an overthinker & getting a little jealous, pda, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2.3k 

sooo this is the last part! (might write some extras but i make no promises) & just wanted to say how much i appreciate everyone who reads my stuff. the first part was my first piece of writing on this blog and i was overjoyed by the warm welcome and all the kind comments, asks & reblogs (nothing goes unnoticed by me!) so thank u so so much for being so lovely <33

series masterlist

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

It’s been exactly two weeks since she came to terms with the fact that she’s in love with him.

She hasn’t been able to sleep all that well and has tried her very best to avoid Rafe, albeit fruitlessly since he insists on driving her home every day and on top of that, often invites himself over or asks her to stay the night at his— not accepting her excuses about being tired and having to wake up early.   

“Why don’t we jus’…be tired ‘n wake up early together then?” his grin is playful. And how is she meant to refuse that?  

And if everything he does wasn’t already suffocating her enough, he’s now helping with the renovation of the cafe since her boss wanted to expand the business; turn the small coffee shop into a bigger one in hopes of more space for new tables and seats, because the amount of clients they got was beginning to be too much for everyone to comfortably enjoy their stay. 

Therefore, she now has to work in the same building as him every single day because (unfortunately) the renovation work isn’t disturbing the current cafe from running nor decreasing the number of customers with a sweet tooth or a craving for their usual morning coffee.   

And none of this would be a problem, if Rafe wasn’t walking around all sweaty and dusty, biceps bulging whenever he’d lift wooden planks over his shoulder or carry around different equipment— looking as attractive as ever.

And with these newfound lovey-dovey feelings trying to break through the surface, she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to stop herself from ogling him or keep her rapid heartbeats to herself whenever he wanders over for a chat on his breaks. She tries to act as normal as she can, but she can tell that he’s starting to pick up on her excessive rambling and stuttering, flushed cheeks and anxious fingers fixing her hair every two seconds whenever he’s talking to her.  

In fact, she’s certain he can see right through her, knows that she’s hiding something. She can practically see how he wants to bring it up more often than not, but seemingly hasn’t found the right way to approach the subject yet, and she can sense that she’s running out of time— can’t tolerate lying to him for much longer.   

She’s been thinking this whole thing through over and over again, to the point of her head hurting while she bakes Rafe’s favorite lemon raspberry cookies as a distraction and because he’s been working so hard she wants to surprise him; see the soft smile that makes the whole world glitter whenever he graces her with it.  

And she wants to tell him, wants him to know how deeply she feels for him; how much she appreciates him but every time she tries to open her mouth, the words seem to evaporate before they’ve even begun to sprout on her nervous tongue.

Because what if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if this is all just a casual thing for him and she’s making it into something more than it is? These bleak thoughts turn her mood sour— a pout forming on her lips as she concentrates on topping the flamingo pink icing with fresh blueberries, adding the final touches to their most popular vanilla cupcakes.

And as she’s taking Rafe’s cookies out the oven, she comes to the conclusion that she really only has two options; she either tells him or she doesn’t.

If she tells him, there’s a very high possibility that he looks at her with a crease between his brows and words about not wanting for this to be anything serious hitting her against the face. And if she doesn’t, then…well she doesn’t really have anything to lose, does she? Except maybe the what ifs haunting her for the rest of eternity.   

She tries to get rid of the tormenting thoughts with a shake of her head as she sets the cookies off to cool down, and begins to place the finished cupcakes onto the display counter, trying her hardest to just forget about it all.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - -  

Later that day, when Rafe is contently munching on the cookies she plated for him and happily distracting her from work, someone approaches the counter; a girl with glossy lips and shiny hair.   

“Hi! Could I please get a mango matcha latte?” her eyes are as green as grass as she places her order.  

“Of course, would you like it with ice or no ice?”   

“With ice, please.”

“Coming right up,” she gives the girl a polite smile when her payment goes through.   

“You’re working on the renovation?” the girl’s attention then turns towards Rafe, making Y/N’s gaze flicker over to them as she puts blended mango into the bottom of a tall glass.  

“Yeah, the cafe’s gon’ be twice as big as it’s now,” he drawls, putting the half-eaten baked good down.   

“That’s so cool. You know, I’ve always wondered how construction workers are so strong. Do you go to the gym a lot?” a saccharine voice reaches Y/N’s ears, making her brows furrow while she measures the right amount of matcha powder, trying to appear nonchalant.   

“Uh, yeah, yeah, also think m’workdays sometimes count as workouts,” he scratches the back of his head as she lets out a giggle. It wasn’t that funny, Y/N thinks with a roll of her eyes.   

“Hey, I was actually wondering if maybe you’d wanna hang out sometime? Could give you my number?”   

Something muddy swirls in her stomach in response to the girl’s straightforward question. She doesn’t particularly appreciate the fact that she’s blatantly hitting on Rafe right in front of her, even if she’s painfully aware that they’re not together and the girl probably assumed they were just friends, which they are.  

However, she can’t prevent herself from turning grumpy from the mere notion of him being interested in someone else. After all, the girl is stunning and she wouldn’t really blame him if he wanted to at least consider her offer.  

“Uh, m’actually not available right now,” he offers an apologetic smile when the girl’s shoulders slump.   

“No? That’s a shame. Well, let me know when that changes?” she gives him a flirty smile that makes Y/N quietly scoff as she pours the milk into the mix.  

“S’not changing anytime soon,” she mutters under her breath, making both of their heads turn towards her.   

Fuck, did she really say that out loud?  

“Sorry?” the girl asks, muted jade settling on her suddenly tense form.

“Oh, um— jus’ that…here’s your drink,” she peeps out in her state of embarrassment, feeling Rafe’s eyes burning into the side of her face as she sticks a paper straw into the beverage; the ice cubes clinking together when she hands it out to her.

“Right, thanks,” she says before looking over to Rafe once more, seemingly expecting him to give her an answer of his own.  

“Uh…yeah, what she said. Not changin’ anytime soon,” his grin is wide, making the girl’s cheeks flush.  

And when it’s just the two of them again, she flits her eyes down— busying herself with a wooden container of tea bags she’s trying to organize, unable to face him.  

“What was, uh…what was that about?” his tone is taunting, an annoying smirk playing on his features.  

“Nothing,” she quickly dismisses, avoiding his gaze.  

“Nothin’? You’re tellin’ me you weren’t just real fuckin’ jealous two seconds ago?”  

“N—no,” she can’t even convince herself with the pitiful denial.  

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, m’all yours, alright?” he chuckles as he stuffs the rest of the cookie into his mouth.  

“How did you know I jus’ was cravin’ these?” he asks around the mouthful as she tries to brush aside the sudden tingle in her ribcage.   

- - - - - - - - - - - - -  

A few days later, when her shift is coming to an end, her other coworker already beginning to take orders and telling her she’s free to go, she drags Rafe behind the counter and practically forces him to taste test a new recipe she’s tried out; a walnut carrot cake with lime buttercream. 

“Wow, this is…amazing. The sourness in the frosting is so good,” his voice is muffled by his chewing and her heart warms in response to his commentary, never one to shy away from showering her in compliments.  

“You think so? I actually added the lime jus’ cause I know how much you like citrus fruits so, m’really glad you like it,” she beams at him.  

“Yeah? Made this jus’ for me, huh? Can I ask why m’gettin’ this special treatment all of a sudden?” his tone is playful, tongue licking over his bottom lip to clean up the bit of icing lingering there.   

“Well, cause I love you and—” she blurts out before her entire body tenses; mouth hanging open in shock and wide eyes slowly moving to look at him, trying to verify whether he heard it or not. Of course he did. She wasn’t exactly quiet now, was she?   

“You…you love me?” he raises his brows in surprise.  

“Uh…I— I didn’t mean to…I mean, you probably don’t feel the same so doesn’t really matter. Just— um...jus’ forget I said that. I don’t know why I—”   

“What are you talkin’ about? You think I spend most of my time with you cause I…what? Dislike you? You can be so silly sometimes, you know?” he scoffs, setting the golden fork down on the porcelain plate.  

She stays silent. 

“What I’m sayin’ is that m’obsessed with you. I mean, you’re even in my fuckin’ dreams, right? But listen, love has always been a little, uh, tricky for me cause m’relationship with my family has always been, uh, complicated? But if me wantin’ to spend every second of my day with you means I love you too, then, shit, maybe I do. But I need some time before I can really say that shit, you get that?” his words are honest and raw and she thinks her rattling heart is going to beat out of her chest.  

“I— um…yeah, of course. Take all the time you need,” she finally manages out.  

“Hey, c’mere,” he says before he’s practically dragging her dumbfounded form into his embrace; — beefy arms pulling her flush against his chest.  

“I mean, we’re basically already datin’ at this point, no? Wasn’t sure how to make it official without freakin’ you out but since you love me, think you’re all good, yeah?” 

She mumbles something incoherent in response.  

“So wanna be my little girlfriend or what?” he murmurs into her hair.  

“I— of course I do,” she speaks against his shirt.   

“Yeah?”   

“Mhm,” she hums before he tucks an index finger under her chin and lifts her face to look up at him—his thumb toying with her bottom lip before he’s leaning down and smearing a sloppy kiss against her mouth.   

“Shit, you’re so adorable, jus’ wanna swallow you whole sometimes,” he murmurs with a soft smile tugging at his lips and eyes twinkling with something syrupy in them.   

“I love you,” she mumbles, almost inaudible; words still too tender to consciously say out loud.   

“Say it again,” he practically demands.  

“Um…I love you,” her voice is nearly a whisper.  

“What was that? Think you can say it a little louder?” he teases.   

“Rafe, stop…you’re embarrassing me,” she whines, cheeks heating up.

“No, m’not. Jus’ wanna hear you say it,” his smirk is all big and smug and it makes her huff.  

“ILOVEYOU, okay?” the words mesh together like fluffy clouds in the sky and her volume is louder than he’s probably ever heard it, causing a couple of curious heads to turn and the lively chatter around them to quiet down some.   

“Yeah? You guys heard that? She LOVES me,” he’s nearly shouting, looking around with a stupid grin on his face— making her flush and hide behind her hands as a few customers cheerfully titter in entertainment.  

“Congrats, dude!” someone even yells.

“Oh my god, Rafe. Why would you do that?” her mortified eyes widen as she crouches down; trying to find shelter behind the pale-yellow counter. “M’never leaving my house again,” she complains with a glare.   

However, he doesn’t seem all that bothered by the whole thing, simply chuckling with dimples denting his cheeks— the light-hearted sound making her stomach flutter despite the humiliation crawling up her spine and making her want to vanish into the cracks on the floorboards.   

“Of course you are, m’your boyfriend now which means m’takin’ you out on a date tomorrow, yeah?” he lifts her up with a grip on her waist, pulling her flush against him while his fingertips slip underneath the hem of her shirt, smoothing over her bare stomach and making her let out a squeak.  

Then, he’s grasping her jaw in one hand and pressing his mouth on hers again— her protests withering away like a dead rose when he slips his tongue past the seam of her lips, dragging out an involuntary whimper from her, before she pulls away and hides her face in his chest when she feels multiple pairs of eyes staring at them.  

“Rafe, can we just go already?” she pleads, voice small before he’s guiding her out of the coffee shop; his hand resting on the small of her back and calming her down some. 

And despite the little scene he caused, she thinks she might just be the happiest girl on the island as he helps her climb into his truck with a honeyed kiss warming the apple of her cheek.

[irndad]

don't date coworkers- s.r.

a/n: i literally wrote this very fast and also i hope you like it pls go easy on me!!! reader has a policy they don't date coworkers. spencer is so angsty abt that !! also sorry for dropping a new fic at 2am LOL wc: 1.7k

She’s really, really good at talking to people. 

It’s one of the many traits Spencer adores about her. She moves through crowds with ease, and she can charm her way into any piece of information from whatever city cop they need a favor from. She integrated into the team faster than anyone could’ve expected. This is a strength not all profilers have- they know what it takes to know what makes someone appealing, but rare is the ability to be as charismatic and charming as she is. 

She’s good at talking to him.

She’s worked at the BAU for about a year now. 13 months, 7 days and 8 hours since she walked through the doors of the bullpen for the first time, beaming at him for the very first time. Give or take. 

Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if everyone knew that he was in love with her. He’s halfway certain she does, and is being too polite to mention it. Normally, Spencer is incredibly regimented about boundaries. While the BAU is his family, and there’s no real way to deny that, he knows that he’s less than ideal to go out with. He’s stocky and he never cuts his hair (even though she swears it’s cute longer) and he’s an awkward guy- gangly and tall and just ill-fitting to be part of the scenery of her life. 

It’s a Friday, and a rainy one at that. It’s one of the blessed ones where they don’t really have a case, just paperwork to catch up on, reports and her desk faces a window. 

Normally, when Spencer gets his work done (a good four hours before everyone else on a paperwork-only day), he’d head out. Catch up on whatever Russian novel he’s been chipping away at- but she’s here, and he’s made her favorite tea. 

“I thought you could use a treat,” he says, walking over to her desk. She looks up at him, brushing overgrown bangs, “It’s not really a great one, but I’ll get you some scones on the way to mine, yeah?”

She looks up at him, dropping her pen and focusing entire energy on him. He feels a bit overwhelmed, like an ant under a magnifying glass. 

“Did you know that I adore you, Spence?” 

He is very much not aware. No amount of her saying it will ever make him know. She takes a long sip from the mug. He knows how much honey she likes in it. He studies how she looks, eyes closed serenely, completely invested in what he’s given her. 

“You’ll be taking her home, pretty boy?” Morgan snickers, in a not altogether unkind manner. 

“Fuck off,” she says kindly, not taking her eyes off of Spencer as she rebuffed Morgan’s teasing. 

“Easy, easy,” Morgan laughs, “I’ll leave your boyfriend alone.”

If she has anything to say to that, it doesn’t come out then. 

He’s still bright red, though. Morgan is amused, and Spencer knows that she really, truly adores Morgan. Spencer loves him too, but it would be nice if he laid off the jokes. 

She doesn’t date coworkers. 

He knows this because of the first time they’d met, when he’d been walking in carrying a croissant for Garcia and a coffee for JJ, and saw what can only be described as a truly ridiculously beautiful woman in the bullpen. 

She’d been leaned back, smiling openly as Morgan tossed some random pick-up line towards her. He remembers it now like he can still hear it, her lilting lovely voice carrying just the right amount of warmth to make this not sting, or at least sting as little as possible. 

“I’m sorry, Derek,” she had said, “I make it a point not to date coworkers.” 

Which of course is fine. She can date whoever she wants, and it’s a good policy to have personally. And Spencer’s never really be the kind of guy who excelled at getting dates. He knew from the first minute that he saw her that even if she didn’t think that way… well, it wouldn’t be him, who she picked. 

Now, they are very close. So close that she drives him home from work every Friday. Which usually includes staying at his shitty apartment and watching VHS tapes of documentaries and Doctor Who. 

He wants to kiss her every Friday. All, the time, really. It’s kind of plaguing him. Clearly, she likes hanging out with him. Something about him is appealing. It’s foolish to assume that it’s more than friends, especially for someone like him to be with someone like her. 

She doesn’t date coworkers. 

“I made sure the film tonight has subtitles!”

“Are you saying film because this film is foreign, Spence?”

“I promise it’s worth it!” He says excitedly, “And they’re really done well. You won’t have to have me whisper the translations to you in real time!”

“I didn’t mind that,” She laughs then, a real laugh, “but I’m glad we’re getting to hang out tonight.”

It’s funny- they’ve done this so, so many times, but he never stops being thrilled. 

___________________________________

Sometimes, when the summer air is forgiving enough, they walk home from the office. She takes the train in, and they walk back to his place. Tonight is one of these nights, and god- she looks lovely. She’s tied her blazer around her waist, and the sunset hits her face in that gorgeous baroque painting kind of way. 

“You’re very pretty,” he hears himself say before he can stop it. He’s endlessly pleased when she preens at the praise. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Doctor,” she says, shoving her hands into her pockets, a nervous gesture. He wants to hold those hand, intertwine her lovely delicate fingers with his bony wispy fingers. 

“You’re being nice to me,” he says, looking down at his shoes. They’re stupid. He should wear loafers, or some other shoe that doesn’t make him like half-child half-geek. 

“I’m being accurate, actually,” she says she bumps his shoulder. 

She’d be a wonderful girlfriend. He lives in the world this can happen quite often, in his fantasy. She laughs at his jokes and tells him he’s kind, and good, and she means it. He’s lucky to have this much of her- more than anyone else on the team! Spencer knows he’s her favorite. The way she’s looking at him now, how she give-up her Fridays to spend with him, on his ratty couch, how she always listens. Whenever they're both on the jet and he falls asleep, he always wakes up with a blanket on him. She's so good at loving people.

Being her favorite on the team does not mean he’s in the running to be a boyfriend. But he’d fucking want to be. He’d be a good boyfriend. Spencer, he’s gone so far for her. He fantasizes about getting her flowers that have symbolic meaning.

“Are you okay, boy-genius?”

“I’m better than okay. Do you want popcorn?”

She wants popcorn. He sets the movie up, and she gets comfortable on his couch, curling up with his purple felt blanket, and his mind betrays him with unhelpful images of what it might look like if she was his, if this is what he came home to. 

Don't picture welcome home kisses, or movie nights or being wanted. Don't.

It’s very, very hard to focus on the movie.  

She’s touchy, with him. He’s not sure if it’s because she could never see him as her boyfriend, but he’s grateful as she leans her head on his. She smells like peonies. When the credits roll, they stay like that for minute- her head on his shoulder and one of her legs thrown over his. 

He wonders, not for the first time, if she feels the same way about him. If things were just..different, then they’d be kissing under the haze of his TV right now, if he’d know what that chapstick she carries with her every day tastes like. 

“Do you ever wonder what it’d be like if we met under different circumstances?” he says, once time passes and he speaks instead of thinking.

“Hmm?” She hummed, relaxed eyes flitting their gaze over to him.

“Like, at a bar or something.”

“But you hate bars.”

“That’s why I said or something!”

Her lip juts out adorably, “But then I wouldn’t get to see you in your element.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, resting his neck on the top of the cushion. The AC is a little too much in the room. He wonders if she’s cold. “But who knows. Maybe we’d date, or something.”

It’s the dumbest thing he’s ever fucking said. Both because it was a dumb way to say it, but because it was an advance. He feels white hot shame lick at his spine when he looks at her, and hears her laugh. 

“I don’t think so, Spence.” 

“No,” shitshitshit, “I didn’t mean-“

“I mean, if you don’t want to date me now, I don’t think meeting at like, Whole Foods would’ve been the difference maker.”

It’s then he hears it- the piece he couldn’t place in her voice, when she gets like this. It’s being resigned. 

“What are you talking about?”

“C’mon, Spence,” she says, another bitter chuckle coming through, “You know how I feel. I haven’t exactly beens subtle.”

“But you don’t date coworkers. You have a rule.”

She looks at him with no recognition of what he’s saying. 

“No, because you told Morgan that, it’s the first thing I ever heard you say.”

“Yeah, but-“

“And yes, okay, you’ve been my favorite person almost as long as I’ve known you and yes, I would fucking love for you to be my girlfriend, but that was your rule!”

“You want me to be your girlfriend?”

“Obviously!”

He doesn’t get the chance to say anything else before, well- before she’s kissing him. More aggressive than that, really. Crawled onto his lap, arms around his neck, and where she leads Spencer is all too happy to follow. His body is not great at moving on instinct, but his whole nervous system feels alive- the weight of her in his lap, the feel of her waist under his fingers, the way he’s allowed this. It feels like such a pleasure, hedonistic in a way he’s never, ever been allowed to experience.

“You had a rule,” he says dumbly when she pulls away. His lips are wet. He’d like to go back to kissing, thank you very much. 

“You’re the exception, to every rule, Spencer.”

When he kisses her again (which he’s allowed to do now, holy fuck) Spencer decides he’s going to spend the rest of all time earning that status. 

[ms-demeanor]

Some people on the left are discussing whether the left is kind enough to me. Especially after the results of the election like lots of men of some demographics voting for Trump. Do you have any thoughts on that? Seems more about women should be nicer to men in some people’s opinions. And I am not sure about this discourse

i think that the social atomization that contributes to the radicalization of young men also contributes to, like, tradwifery and the radicalization of young women so I think that people are looking at a deep systemic issue with a shallow lens.

I don't think this is so much an issue of people being "nice" but of spaces making people feel *valued.*

The right-wing space full of toxic masculinity where people call disaffected young men "brother" isn't comforting just because people call you brother, it's because they're framing disaffected young men as valuable members of society who have been dismissed and degraded by the left. It tells them they're important and have worth and are necessary for the future of the world just because of who they are.

Of course they're getting called pussies and cucks and are being bullied in that space, but they're also being told that if they perform a certain standard of masculinity they are the future of their nation/race/species/family/etc. The toxicity of that space isn't something that makes them question their value, or whether or not they're a good person, or if they have something to offer the world. It is something they endure to prove that they are a member of the in-group, and that they belong, and that they do have value and are a good person.

So, there are people dunking on that post because it does kind of read like "i was almost eaten up by the alt right because women weren't nice enough to me" and to an extent i think that it was ungracefully worded. But i also think that it's addressing something that a lot of people feel in a lot of political spaces.

I do not think that whatever the hell we consider "the mainstream left" in America is particularly welcoming to anybody. I think that it very superficially values diversity while not actually valuing people. I think that it says "You are important! And that's why I need you to donate three dollars to my campaign to prevent the Republicans from harming [your identity group]! I am asking for your help as a senator, a mother, and a person who wants to defeat my opponent in two to four years."

I think that what a lot of people are looking for is not acceptance or niceness but is a community and i'm not at all surprised that people feel like they're not getting that from democrats/the mainstream left/whatever.

I mean. My real response to this is:

I don't think that the *actual* issue is that men don't feel welcomed by "the left," I definitely don't think the issue is women being insufficiently nice to men, I think the issue is that all of us are little cogs in a capitalist machine and actually there's very little out there that is saying to anyone "you are worth more than your productivity."

And it turns out that people will put up with huge amounts of abuse if the abuser makes them feel like they belong. People getting sucked into the alt-right pipeline because it is "nice" to them are exactly analogous to people who get sucked into cults because the cult provides community and affirmation and a sense of belonging.

Anyway, I am once again and as always begging people to put together or join any kind of at-least monthly meetup based on your specific interests. Start a radio club. Start a quilting circle. Put together a free store at the park once a month. Literally join a drum circle. Participate in a community garden. Start a walking club with your neighbors. Go to events at the library on weekends.

As a side note: there absolutely are lefty spaces that function by making people feel worthless or feel like bad people. They tend to have high turnover, short lifespans, and explosive fallout. These are shitty spaces and if your participation in a space is primarily motivated by some combination of guilt and self-flagellation, you should leave that space.

[johnlockdynamic]

the way I’ve somehow become everyone’s body positivity guru

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

(genuine question sorry if it comes across as spam or trolling) is porn addiction not actually a thing? and how is it connected to terf stuff (again genuinely want to know so I don’t repeat the retoric)

No worries anon, I do not get enough asks for things to come across as spam or trolling.

But yeah no, porn addiction is not a thing. Over two decades of research has not proven a goddamn thing; rather, it's proven that it doesn't exist. [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] *note, some of these are more accessible than others and some are more specific

While those who believe in it will present what seems to be a mountain of evidence for it, their evidence is often unscientific or unreliable or uses flawed measures or uses incredibly small sample sizes, including a sample of 1 in some cases.

The actual scientific consensus is that while excessive watching of porn can be a bad habit and can negatively impact your life, you can't become addicted to it the way that you can with things like alcohol. Things like alcohol addiction or tobacco addiction are related to a significant change in the neuronal transmission in your brain. Like certain drugs mimic certain neurotransmitters and impact the neuro-receptors on either side of a synapse.

Porn doesn't do that. Or moreso, porn is not unique in how it can change your brain chemistry. Someone who spends twelve hours a day seven days a week watching reality TV doesn't have a habit inherently different to someone who spends the same amount of time watching porn.

Often excessive watching of porn is a symptom of a larger issue such as depression. Many of those who self-report as porn addicts match the primary diagnosis of depression.

Also, within research, it is often found that those who self-report a porn addiction watch the same amount of or less of porn as someone who doesn't report it, mostly because a lot of it is related to shame and guilt and not addictive behaviour.

Porn addiction as an idea is most often rooted in religiosity and not science.

It can also be rooted in terfism. Because terfs hate porn.

Their arguments against porn boil down to the idea that women cannot and should not have sexual autonomy. They dress it up obviously, but if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, it's a misogynist.

Almost any argument against porn they make can be easily countered by the fact that all their criticisms occur in every industry that exists currently, especially so in creative industries.

The porn industry is not uniquely exploitative. If people's labour is involved, it's probably being exploited or it has the potential to be exploited. Not knowing if the person on screen was treated well on set is not unique to porn, you know how many movies I can list that included actors being treated like shit? The porn industry does not have an issue with human trafficking that is unique to any other industry; it's a massive issue in industries with manual labour. etc.

Point is, it is not inherently evil. Terfs want you to think it is though because A) they hate women and B)

To them, porn equals predatory men (they include trans women in this) exploiting poor innocent women who cannot possibly consent.

The idea of women who actively partake in sex work and enjoy doing so is mind breaking for them; they often rationalise it as the women being mentally ill and being indoctrinated by porn. The idea of porn addiction suits them well because they believe porn is inherently evil like men are.

Terfs can't perceive any situation where women are not being actively victimised by men. They are always the victims and they always need protection from men who are inherently evil and inherently predatory.

They're misogynists and idiots (and very often very racist though that's not currently relevant).

I don't know how coherent this is. It is approaching the time I go to sleep so it might be very rambly. I hope it was helpful anyway. Feel free to ask for clarification that I'll reply to in the morning.

[jmliebert]

When Nanami Has a Crush on You ♡

on the surface, Nanami appears as calm and collected as ever, but internally...he’s conflicted. somehow it's hard to maintain his self-control when you are near

though he tries to remain stoic through it all, subtle signs betray him... (if you look close enough you can see his fist clenches whenever he watches you interact with other men or when he's frustrated with what he said or did in your presence)

he doesn’t force interactions but cherishes the moments when he accidentally runs into you. those fleeting encounters brighten his day, and he silently wishes for more

notices and compliments the small details about you, each remark dripping with charm. also his soft, almost shy smile and a light scratch of his head during these moments make this even sweeter. it's surprising even for him, how he acts when he's with you (as I said his self-control fades..)

always prepared. Nanami is there with a napkin, an umbrella, or just the right amount of time to spare. he’s happy to share breakfast with you, insisting on paying—not out of any outdated notion, but simply because it’s you, and he wants to do something kind

and when he sees you enjoying a simple sandwich, he catches himself wishing he could feed you himself, loosening his tie slightly as he tries to shake the thought away (oh!)

when you compliment his suit, his eyes widen slightly, but he quickly masks it with a smooth, “oh, you think so?” you might not realise the impact, but he’ll wear that suit more often

his small, seemingly innocent touches send shivers down your spine. at first, he’s observant and reserved, trying to process his feelings and it takes some time, but as he becomes more certain, his confidence grows, and he begins to act more directly

eventually, he’ll invite you to dinner at a place that’s both elegant and cozy. he arrives to with a bouquet of red roses, complimenting your beauty with heartfelt sincerity. you are so luminous and full of grace, he could stare at you for hours, and he would do it gladly

at dinner, he’s the perfect gentleman—offering champagne, helping with your seat and coat. his eyes never leave yours, brows raised slightly with every word you speak, soaking in your every word

conversation flows effortlessly. you talk about everything—hypothetical scenarios, life, dreams, philosophy and literature—and while Nanami enjoys the discourse, he can’t help but steer it back to you. he wants to know you deeply, genuinely

as the night goes on, he finds himself unexpectedly moved by how easy it is to be with you. he can’t remember the last time he felt so at peace, so effortlessly himself

as he walks you home, your sweet smile and sparkling eyes full of life completely undo him. he hadn’t planned this—he was in it for the long game—but you, standing there like this, make it impossible to resist. gently, he cups your chin and presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. when you respond, his long-restrained passion breaks free. his kisses grow deeper, more urgent, as his hands pull you closer. a single strand of his hair falls across his forehead as your breaths mingle, the space between you almost nonexistent. the air feels charged, every shared breath heavy with anticipation

but he pulls away, knowing it’s the right thing to do, even though it feels impossible to watch you walk away, heading to your flat alone (he watches you until he sees the light in your window flicker on)

somehow the thought of you being there all alone...at night...without no living soul to talk to does things to him. the desire to care for you, be there for you, to provide for you never was so prominent, so strong and going home alone was never so hard for Nanami

that night, he’s too overwhelmed to sleep. at 4 AM, he sends you a message, unable to hold back, and waits anxiously for your response, even knowing it’s a little over the top

and now he can't help his chest tightening at the mere thought of you...it feels so good, as if the fog has finally lifted, but at the same time it feels scary, he might like you a tad to much, it's getting out of control (which is good hihi)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

oh, i wanted to write it so bad!!

 you can find more of my works ♡here♡

[charminglygrouped]

One very subtle but speaking moment in P&P that I don't think I've ever seen anyone talk about is this one:

“Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain, and the gown which had been let down to hide it not doing its office.”

We all get caught up on the "six inches deep in mud" thing (and it is a very funny and versatile line)—but that misses the depth of the characterisation of Elizabeth that's developed in this sentence.

What Mrs. Hurst means is that Elizabeth had, at some point, been wearing her gown (this would have been morning dress) pinned up to show the bottom portion of her petticoat. This was pretty common in the very late 18th and early 19th centuries: an outer petticoat was not really considered an undergarment, but something that could be shown, at least in part. Gowns might be shorter than the petticoat; or very sheer to show a coloured petticoat; or slit up the front or sides; or entirely open in the front (called "négligée" or, racistly, "mameluke" style). A lot of petticoats were embroidered around the bottom (and sometimes in a pattern up the center as well) in a way that would be visible under these conditions. See these examples:

"Costume Parisiennes," The Ladies' Monthly Museum Vol 3 (April 1816), p. 231:

Evening Dress.—Round dress of soft white satin, made short enough to discover the muslin-petticoat underneath, which is ornamented with two full quillings of fine lace; the satindress finished at the border by four rows of scarlet velvet [...]. (see the illustration for this one here)

"London Fashions," The Repository of arts, literature, commerce, manufactures, fashions and politics (May 1, 1819), p. 304, plate 31:

A jaconic muslin petticoat, ornamented round the bottom with four rows of muslin trimming, composed of narrow welts finished with edging. Over this is an open robe, with a plain high body [...]. (description of left image above)

Ibid., no. 82 vol. 14 (Oct. 1815), p. 240, plate 22:

A cambric muslin petticoat, ornamented at the feet with a double flounce of French work, appliqued with a narrow heading of the same; the body, from the shoulder to the neck, gathered full into narrow trimming, corresponding with the heading of the flounce; a military collar, frilled with the French work; short French négligée, open in the iront, and trimmed entirely round to correspond. (description of right image above)

If Mrs. Hurst is correct, Elizabeth had either been wearing her dress pinned up anyway, or pinned it up specifically for the walk—and then, after she had arrived at Netherfield but before she had been announced, taken the pins out and let the skirt of the dress down to try to hide the dirt on her petticoat. This is an amount of forethought that suggests that she actually does care about how she looks, or about appearing tidy, or about what the party at Netherfield thinks of her.

She doesn't care enough to keep her from seeing Jane (“I shall be very fit to see Jane—which is all I want"), or enough to wish to avoid the walk (Mr. Bennet says “Is this a hint to me, Lizzy, to send for the horses?", which coming from him I think is tantamount to an engraved invitation to send for the carriage). But she cares just enough to briefly plan how best to minimise the damage, and decide to pin up her skirt before walking—or at least to take a moment to think about how she would appear to an observer, check her skirts, and take a step to improve her appearance slightly, once she had arrived.

Jennifer Ehle looks very cute and charming in the scene in the 95 version where she's walking to Netherfield and accidentally jumps in a mud puddle and looks at her skirts and shrugs like, oh well! But I don't think it's very "Elizabeth."

Elizabeth is sort of the Goldilocks of ladyhood. She doesn't have the rigid adherence to conduct-book logic that Mary has, or the sneering sophistication that the Bingley sisters have, or the impulsive, pleasure-seeking anarchic energy that Lydia has. She's neither very fashionable, nor completely without a sense of propriety, decency, or morality (whatever these words mean according to 19th-century mores). I think takes that emphasise only her wildness and distinctness from fashionable ladies, and takes that emphasise only her respectability, are both missing something.