#industrial nest of tables

[vfvertyfurniture]

Exploring Versatility: Unveiling the Charm of Industrial Nest of Tables

Dive into the world of interior design versatility with our exploration of industrial nest of tables. Discover the charm and functionality these pieces bring to any space, whether you're aiming for a rustic, modern, or eclectic ambiance. From compact living rooms to spacious lofts, explore how these tables offer practicality without compromising style, elevating your home decor to new heights.

[choicefurnituresuperstore]

Unveiling the Essence of Industrial Nest of Tables

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Craftsmanship Beyond Compare

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Designing Your Space with Industrial Finesse

Versatility Redefined: The nested design of an industrial nest of tables allows for easy rearrangement, adapting to your changing spatial needs. This flexibility ensures that the tables effortlessly integrate into various design styles.

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Embracing Sustainability with Reclaimed Wood

Choosing furniture crafted from reclaimed wood contributes to the preservation of natural resources and reduces environmental impact. Each industrial nest of the table becomes a symbol of sustainability, adding depth and purpose to your living space.Industrial dining room furniture offers a timeless blend of design, functionality, and sustainability transforming your living space into a haven of modern sophistication.

[thisonelikesaliens]

jt620123 ig 05.20.24

writer/producer of the show posted a 520 (i love you) special that was pure domestic fluff with Qian and Yuan babysitting their niece. big disclaimer again, not a writer but tried my best to translate the joy i got from this piece and hoped i managed to spread some of that joy to this fandom

Not yet a year old, here Xiao Xiao Bao was again at her uncles' place. Xiao Bao had become a fairly well-known celebrity in the Asian entertainment world, and San Pang would be following her whenever she had to travel for work, which meant her brothers were on for babysitting duty.

Wei Qian never thought his sister's career would take off after getting married and having a child. These days, not many female celebrities would so openly talk about their partners and children, and perhaps it was exactly because of the way Xiao Bao set herself apart from the industry norms that she garnered so much support.

Wei Qian put down the magazine after reading the exclusive interview of Xiao Bao and her family (that he noted did not include her brothers). He picked up Xiao Xiao Bao who was happily entertaining herself and complained to her about her mom.

"That interview about your mom's family should've included your uncles, right? We're way more good-looking than your dad! Here, let me see…it's a good thing you look like your mom instead of your dad."

As if to show that she did not appreciate the disrespect towards her parents, Xiao Xiao Bao began to cry.

Wei Qian tried to pacify her but her cries became louder, so he picked her up and went to prepare formula, but Xiao Xiao Bao was still crying and wouldn't take the bottle.

Utterly defeated, Wei Qian had to ask for help.

"XIAO YUAN, HOW MUCH LONGER IS YOUR CONFERENCE CALL?"

Wei Qian put the bottle on the table and decided to check Xiao Xiao Bao's diaper.

"Sorry, give me a moment. I'll call you back soon." Wei Zhi Yuan ended his call and came downstairs.

As soon as Wei Zhi Yuan appeared, Wei Qian passed a still wailing Xiao Xiao Bao over to him.

"She's not taking the bottle, I think she needs a diaper change."

Yuan checked the time, checked the diaper, then picked up the bottle to check the temperature.

"It's too hot, run it under cold water for 30 seconds." Wei Zhi Yuan instructed as he handed the bottle to Wei Qian.

Wei Qian took the bottle and went into the kitchen, grumbling under his breath about the trials and tribulations of babysitting.

Wei Zhi Yuan sat down with Xiao Xiao Bao on his lap, wiped her tears and rocked her back and forth while humming. Xiao Xiao Bao's cries turned to sniffling and eventually stopped completely, then she grabbed Wei Zhi Yuan's finger and started to put it in her mouth.

"I'm so sorry, your little uncle lost track of time, you must be hungry! Don't be mad at your aunt, he can't even take care of himself…"

"Who did you call 'aunt'?" Wei Qian said menacingly while thrusting the bottle in Yuan's face. Realizing his mistake, Yuan took the bottle and corrected, "I'm the little uncle in charge of changing diapers~you're the best BIG UNCLE in the world in charge of feeding her~"

Pacified, Wei Qian sat down next to Wei Zhi Yuan and watched him feed their niece.

"I fed Xiao Bao like this when I was a kid too, and now I can't believe I'm watching you feed her and San Pang's daughter…"

That made Wei Zhi Yuan chuckle. Wei Qian yawned, then leaned on Yuan's arm, playing absently with Xiao Xiao Bao's little feet.

After Xiao Xiao Bao finished the bottle, Wei Zhi Yuan leaned forward to put the bottle back on the table and noticed that Wei Qian had already fallen asleep, his head sliding down and nesting comfortably on his lap.

Wei Zhi Yuan burped Xiao Xiao Bao while watching Wei Qian fondly, then bent down to press a kiss on Wei Qian's forehead.

"No matter who you are, from now on we will never be apart as long as we live."

[lisenberry]

We drift in and out

Chapter 2: Share the same space for a minute or two

E/NSFW/MDNI

CW: Domestic fluff, postpartum thoughts and bodies, angst, hurt/comfort sex

2.7k

Ch.1. Ch.3 AO3

“I’ll take first watch,” John said, setting down the diaper bag and the baby carrier on your dining table as you tossed your keys in the bowl and breathed a sigh of relief.

It was late by the time you returned home from the hospital. Between the hourly blood pressure checks and constant feedings, you hadn’t gotten much rest while you were there.

And let’s not forget that every trip to the bathroom was harrowing, and fraught with more discomfort than you’d anticipated. The nurses practically babysat you until you’d had a successful piss. Apparently, it was an integral part of the healing process and could cause life threatening complications if you didn’t empty your bladder regularly.

You didn’t know what you looked like down there, but you could certainly feel it. You’d cried out so sharply, John burst through the door to find you sobbing and shaking on the toilet.

After that, you doubted he would ever look at you romantically again.

But you made it through, fueled by adrenaline and instincts. You just wanted to be back in your own space. To the nest you’d built away from the poking and prodding of strangers. Of the astringent smells of industrial cleaning products and the cold glare of fluorescent lighting.

John had stepped out just long enough to buy a car seat so that he could drive you and the baby home in his truck. He’d laughed when you told him it was unnecessary, and you’d planned on taking the bus back to your apartment.

“Nonsense, I insist,” had been his only reply as he kissed your forehead as if to leave you too flustered to argue.

You had a feeling you were the talk of the nurses’ station. The juicy drama of your life must’ve seemed more captivating than the latest episode of television. They were all genuinely sorry to see the three of you go.

The three of you.

“That’s not how it works, John,” you assured him. This wasn’t a stake out. He was going back to his apartment, and you were putting the baby to sleep in the cradle you’d put together yourself until she awoke hungry and wet in two hours.

And that’s how it would be for the next 18 years of your life.

“You need some rest.” He tucked his arms across his chest and cocked his head downward, as if to intimidate you with his size alone. You imagined it was a practiced tactic, and that it probably worked on his subordinates. Sent them scrambling to please him.

But John didn’t scare you. Never did. It was what kept you going back to him. Or perhaps more like waiting for him, all those years. An easiness. A comfort.

“I’ll sleep when she sleeps. That’s what all the books say.” Despite your confidence, you yawned against your will as you unhooked your daughter from the carrier.

You still hadn’t gotten used to how light she was, and yet how substantial she felt in your arms.

When you looked back up to John to tell him ‘Thank you’, and that you could take it from here, you were met with something you’d never seen in him before.

A longing. Something unshed in his eyes, and unsaid on his lips, as he took a step toward you as if to reach out.

“Do you want to hold her?” In all the commotion, you realized that John hadn’t held her yet. Aside from the few times he’d lifted her gently from the hospital’s bedside crib to pass her to you, as if she was a live grenade.

Maybe it’d made him uncomfortable. To come back, expecting to return to your casual arrangement, only to find you knocked up with some other guy’s kid. To be honest, you hadn’t expected more than a passing hello in the hallway.

For him to take one look at you and never call you again or darken your door for a quickie at midnight. He’d move on to someone from the gym, or the café girl down the street.

Except, he hadn’t seemed uncomfortable. He’d seemed in control, focused. Calm and steady as he’d adjusted your shitty hospital-issued pillow or fetched you a refill on your water. Averted his eyes respectfully while you worked tirelessly to get the fussy newborn to latch onto your breast.

Had he not wanted to intrude? Was he waiting for permission?

“I really do need to take a shower,” you added when he hesitated.

He’d be gone by the morning. Might as well take advantage of his help while it was offered.

“Good.” He nodded at that, relieved to be of service, as he took the sleeping babe from your arms with a grace you didn’t expect from his big, gnarled hands.

A grizzled bear, holding something so soft and small in a white sleeper dotted with blush pink roses. She didn’t even shift at the change from one of you to the next. Content and unbothered in her dreams.

After taking your time in the shower, knowing it might be your last for a while, you emerged to see the two of them on your couch, watching the nightly football coverage on the telly. John was talking to someone, voice raised with heated enthusiasm, and you assumed he was on the phone with one of his mates.

But as you inched closer, you realized he was recounting his opinions on the latest match to the infant on his chest.

“You can put her down if you want,” you smiled, as you motioned to the bassinet. “You don’t have to hold her all night.”

“I tried, but I can’t tell if she’s breathing when she’s over there. Quiet little thing.”

There was nothing in the baby books and videos about seeing a man who’d been inside you hold your child as if it was the most precious thing in the world. How it could change your brain chemistry. Make you stupid in ways you never thought you could be.

You sunk down onto the cushion next to them. He urged you to go to bed, to get some sleep before she woke up again, but you didn’t want to leave just yet. You wanted to see them like this. To be a part of whatever mischief was transpiring between them.

Laying your head on his shoulder, you closed your eyes and let sleep slowly find you.

“Sorry I missed it, love.” He kept his voice low, but it rung with a depth of emotion that cut through your slumber.

“Hmm, missed what?”

“Everything.”

*******

He didn’t leave the next day, or the day after that, except to shower and change clothes in his apartment, or pick up food from your favorite chip shop down the road. Every time he did go, you expected him not to come back.

Assuming he had returned to his usual schedule of sleep, eat, gym, fuck, repeat. With the fucking being someone else, of course. That you’d hear footsteps down the hallway outside and look through your peephole, covered in baby spit-up and leaking breastmilk, to see him leading a beautiful young woman into his flat.

Instead, weeks went by of him driving you to doctors’ appointments and joining you for walks in the park. Decaf iced lattes and naps on the couch. The faint smell of cigar smoke was the only indication that he’d taken a bit of time to himself.

The pang in your heart, and in your gut, when he carried the bags of dirty diapers down to the bin and sang Paul McCartney tunes horribly off key to get the baby back to sleep while you soaked in the bath tub.

Every day was a gift, you reminded yourself. He was just being nice. Playing house until it was time for him to go, the way you always had before. Except this time, he hadn’t even kissed you or made any advances other than a playful hug or a supportive rub of your shoulders as you pumped an extra supply of baby bottles.

None of your clothes fit anymore. You were too slim for your maternity jeans, and not quite down to your original weight. Maybe you never would be. Maybe you were the new you.

Nothing but forgiving loungewear and tinted moisturizer to hold you together.

It didn’t stop you from wanting him.

You’d think the trauma to your reproductive organs would swear you off sex for at least a few years, but there you were. Three months postpartum, salivating over his shirtless chest and slickening at the bulge in his sweatpants as he ate a bowl of tikka masala at your kitchen counter.

Maybe that was how you persevered as a species. The carnal urge to make the same mistake over and over again, consequences be damned. It would appear you hadn’t evolved beyond it.

Your doctor guaranteed you that you were fully healed and could resume sex with your husband (you’d long given up trying to explain away the six-and-a-half-foot beast keeping your child company in the waiting room as anything but) any time you felt comfortable. Had even started you on a new birth control. Hopefully one that worked this time.

But feeling comfortable and feeling desirable were two different things. John wasn’t your husband. He wasn’t your boyfriend. He had expressed no desire to be anything more than just a...friend? What was he even doing sleeping on your couch?

‘Go find someone fun and exciting and leave me to rot in peace,’ you wanted to scream at him.

A menace was what he was.

Finally, you stopped trying to get yourself off with your vibrator and threw it against the wall in frustration. A groan escaped you as you turned over and muffled a scream into your pillow.

You instantly regretted it the moment a soft knock sounded on your bedroom door.

“You all right in there?” He opened the door a crack and the light from the hallway peeked through.

“No, not really,” you whined, pitifully. Grateful that you hadn’t woken up the baby with your little tantrum.

You noted the displacement of the shadows as he bent down to pick your still buzzing vibrator from the floor and switched it off with a muffled laugh.

“Not doing the trick, is it?”

“I’m glad you think this is funny. I don’t even know my own body anymore." Fuck, you did not want to be having this conversation with him.

“What do you need, love?” He set your stupid, useless toy on the bedside table and leaned against the mattress. It tilted you towards him with his weight.

“I need to know that I’m still me. Somewhere in here. That I can still...” you felt dumb. You were a mother. You had a child to worry about. And all you cared about was whether or not you could still—

“Come?”

You nodded vigorously, feeling dumber by the minute. And he was there, in the dark of your room, smelling like pine trees and black pepper. Somehow, underneath it all, like your baby. Even though she wasn’t his.

Confusing and frustrating, and—

His mouth trapped yours then, cutting off any further conversation as his hands hitched under your nightshirt and yours found the waistband of his pants.

“I need you, John,” you gritted between teeth, both yours and his.

“Stubborn you are. Been waiting for you to ask.” He buried his face between the swollen flesh of your tits. Licking and lapping at your skin.

“Careful, they—”

“Squirt? I know. Not what I’m interested in, darling. They’re not mine anymore.”

He moved past your breasts and down your stomach. The raised scars where your skin had stretched too far, too fast. Making room for life within.

You were grateful he couldn’t see them in the dark. Even still, it felt like he found each one with his lips.

“Perfect, you are. You did so good.” You didn’t know what he meant. Only preened at the words as your cunt rose toward him and he moved lower towards your hips.

“Easy, John. Easy, please.”

You knew how big he was. He was the same, but you were different. Changed. You couldn’t do it. It’d been too long. Healed over and shaped anew.

“I know, baby. There’s nothing you can’t handle.”

His tongue met you then, in the cleft at your center. Teasing and taunting, he circled where you needed him the most. Hitting it just right and then moving away when you were teetering on the edge.

His beard and mustache grazing the sensitive nerves around the nub, inflaming you further until you pulsed at the absence of his touch.

Only for him to replace his mouth with the tip of his cock. Hard and thick, it nudged and prodded as it sought a weakness in your soft, wet entry way.

“You’ll tell me if it hurts, won’t you? I know how you like to be brave.” He bit out with a grin.

Brave? You were a disaster. Is that how he saw you?

“Please don’t stop.” The words rushed out as a shudder.

You’d take it, you’d take anything to feel full, to feel him. The pull and tug of being consumed.

Still, he hesitated. Pausing just at the tip. Speechless and restrained.

“Stop being so nice.” You squirmed and sought to meet him, pull him closer.

“There’s a girl. See? Not gone after all.” His teeth dug into your neck and you arched your hips against his.

So familiar. So at home.

He sunk in then, as if with your permission. You clasped and guided him in like the other half of you.

“How does it feel?” You didn’t mean to sound as wanton as you did. You needed to know.

“Like heaven, love. Like fucking heaven.”

He lips found yours again, savoring, remembering, committing you to memory as he reclaimed your pussy for his own. As much his as it was yours.

Offering himself in return.

Pumping in a slow rhythm at first, matching you, following you. Your legs around his waist and his hands tugging your hips to hit that perfect fucking spot.

It was still there. It hadn’t moved. He’d found it like lighthouse in a storm.

“You ready, or do you need more?”

“Don’t stop.”

He grunted then, drawing some sort of strength as he kept his rhythm and touched a free hand to your clit for help.

“Yes, yes, yes!”

He found you. When you couldn’t find yourself.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it.”

“Fuck, John!” You came with a rush of power and nature as he found your mouth again. He drank your sobs and replaced them with sounds of his own.

Tears filled your eyes and slid down your cheeks.

“You all right?” He asked against your neck, when you began to still, but you could only nod.

“I’m good. Thank you.” Simple words for how you felt.

“So fucking brave.” He wiped away your tears and nuzzled your cheeks with his bearded lips.

The couch sat cold and abandoned after that.

*******

But you found him a few weeks later, ashen-cheeked and staring troubled at his phone.

The baby was packed up in the pram and ready for a walk. She could smile now, and glowed with excitement and kicked her feet whenever her dark brown eyes met his glittering blue.

“I have to go. Got called in.” He turned a weary gaze towards you. Regret softening his usual starry skies and adding years to his features.

You knew this day would come, but it surprised you all the same.

A blow to your chest, taking the air from your lungs and tearing out your heart.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back.” The death blow to any hope you’d had that it was a training exercise or a weekend conference.

What if he was gone for another year? So much could happen. The baby would be walking. Talking. You’d be back to work by then. Trusting a stranger with her care because you didn’t have anyone else.

And who would he be when he returned? Always a little different than before.

“It’s okay. We’ll be okay. Just be safe, yeah?” You steeled your spine and tamped down on the tears that threatened behind your eyeIids.

You’d never cried for him before. Never worried about him.

No messy feelings. No expectations. Great sex and a pleasant company, right?

“I’ll say no. They can assign it to someone else.” Even as he said it out loud, you knew he wouldn’t let that happen.

“I had a plan, remember?” A reassuring smile to match the one he’d given you so many times before. “And you were never a part of it.”

He’d called you brave. You’d find out soon enough if he was right.

[shinsocest]

No. 001

Notes: first of many reuploads, fave of personal faves ♡ commission for @kailali from once upon a time ♡♡♡

7.7k

warnings: stepcest, marking, piercings, creampies, fem reader, reader is lifted, degradation & praise, oral (both), multiple orgasms, hard s*x soft feelings

It had been a long day. 

You sigh and let your bag fall to the entry floor as you toe off your shoes. As the only quirkless member of the Todoroki family you never had a shot at hero work, but that never meant you had no interest in the hero industry. You finally made it into your preferred field a few months ago, a new hire at your stepmother’s ex’s agency in their crisis management department. Whenever a hero or sidekick makes a mistake or a villain causes too much damage before they’re apprehended, you’re behind the scenes doing as much as you can to fix the lives of those affected. 

All in all… paperwork is a bitch.

An irritated puff expels through your nose as you nearly trip over an extra pair of shoes in the foyer, but your irritation dispels when you lay eyes on a worn pair of charcoal converse. You sigh.

“Touya?” you call out as you pad down the hall.

“Living room.” His voice is tired, a sleep laden rasp in his throat. 

You sweep through the open kitchen, drop your keys on the counter, and make your way to the living room. You lean in the doorway when you catch sight of him sprawled out on your couch, half under one of the softer throws your stepmom got you for Christmas a couple years ago. The light from the tv bathes him in a silver sheen, highlighting his jet-black hair and glinting off the triple helix on his ear, the gift you’d gotten him for his last birthday.

Touya shifts a little more upright as you come into his line of sight and reaches for the lamp on the side table. The soft yellow light helps, makes him look warmer. The picturesque tattoos of burning hemlock dancing up his forearms and disappearing under his shirt look more lively, and you can see the smile on his face as he looks at you.

But he still looks tired.

“Long day?”

You scoff and then laugh a little, your shoulders sagging as you slouch over to the couch. He opens the blanket in invitation and you crawl in beside him, sighing as he wraps an arm around you, your head dropping onto his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you mumble softly, sighing again as he kisses the top of your head. You return the kiss with one to the side of his neck, your lips pressing to the inky vines winding down his throat. “You?”

“Yeah,” he mutters. His voice is a comfortable rumble against your back. “Somethin’ like that.”

 Touya uses your apartment as a personal hideout, ever since you leased the place. At his age he's expected to be living on his own by now, but Rei has a soft spot for her eldest son and won't push him out of the nest. Since he promised you he wouldn't argue with your father, he ends up at your place more often than not. Your dad is the type to be optimistic, encouraging, and stern, and Touya doesn't have the best track record with nurturing authority types—or authority figures in general really—given how strict Endeavor was when it came to raising his children. 

He squints at the screen as if just noticing it was on. "Movie's comin' on. Wanna watch it with me?"

"Sure. I think I wanted to see this one, but let me change first."

A short trip to your room is enough to shed your office clothes and slip into a tank top and sleep shorts before you're back in his arms, wiggling until you're comfortable and he’s grumbling at you to settle the fuck down.

It may seem odd from the outside looking in to be this close, but it's always been this way with your step-siblings. Natuso and Fuyumi were the middle children, working hard on their futures when your parents hit it off, so it made sense that the eldest and youngest were the ones who latched onto you the hardest. 

Shoto was polite in the beginning—earnest, really—and before long he was looking to you for approval even after he graduated from Yuuei. Touya saw you as another little sibling to look after, in his own way. From the moment you’d moved in, it felt like he was doing his best to make sure there was a place in their family where you fit. You always got the sense it was because he felt like an outlier himself. You were just happy to be accepted, and you adored them both, all of them of course.

Barely halfway through the movie, Touya shifts and his hand slides around to your stomach to hold you more comfortably. It makes you warm, dangerously so.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t enjoy how touchy-feely Touya always is, and he always seems to be seeking physical comfort from you. He holds your hand when he walks you to the store, always needs a hug before he leaves, and if he doesn't get a kiss on his cheek before he’s out the door, he will pout at you (aka lots of snark and rolled eyes) until you give in. 

“You’re shifting a lot tonight, doll. You good?” Touya hums behind you, sounding distracted and you realize you’d been rubbing yourself back against his—

“Sorry!” you whisper, face flaming.

“Don’t worry about it.” After a minute he mutters under his breath about how warm you are. “Don’t tell me you’re my real sister after all, 's like you're on fire.”

“We can take the blanket off—”

“Nah, ‘m fuckin’ freezing, feels good. My hands are cold, can I?”

“You fucker!” you yelp as he pushes his palms under your shirt, his hands like ice on your skin. His smirk is almost tangible behind you as he reprimands you for squirming when he’s doing his best to battle the sudden chill. 

“Keep still, would ya?”

You try to kick his shins but he outmaneuvers you, pinning your legs under his own. He chuckles under his breath as the two of you scuffle for a couple moments, tugging you closer until you give up with an exaggerated huff.

“You good now? You’re missing the movie.”

You grumble as you settle, but your heart still races. 

During your half-hearted wrestling attempt it had been easy to miss, but now that you’re relaxed into him again you’re becoming aware of the way Touya is heating up behind you. His palm is nearly searing the skin on your navel now, but you’re too distracted by what’s unmistakably digging into your back at the moment.

You know you’re not supposed to get a flutter of anticipation, but it shudders up your spine anyways. Every now and then his hips rock forward like he can’t help himself, and every time they do, that telltale heat building hot and impatient beneath your skin grows.

His fingers are playing with your waistband like they have so many times before. You’re holding your breath as he dips a little lower than usual and you find yourself wondering, telling yourself you’re not hoping for it…but is this the night he’s finally going to cross the line he’s spent so much time dancing around?

You’ve always known. This dance has been happening for a while. You’ve noticed the way he looks at you, and holds you too close, and you feel guilty knowing just how much you enjoy the attention. He always seems to hold himself back though, neither one of you truly acknowledging the heightening desire that builds in the dark.

Your gasp feels loud when his hand firmly slides into your panties—long fingers toying with the apex of your mound, a breath away from the bundle of nerves that feels like a live current desperate for a trigger—but it’s barely more than a tense inhale.

Touya’s lips are almost on your ear, his breath hot as his words push both of you towards an uncharted precipice.

“This okay?”

You know that this is the moment to turn back. If you say something now, he’ll remove his hand and go back to watching the movie. 

Your heart pounds rapidly as you think, but something heated and needy coils tight in you. If you deny him now, would he ever have the courage to come after you again? Displeasure rises bitterly at the thought of him distancing himself from you. You want him. Maybe you’ve always wanted him.

“Mhm,” you manage, breathing just a little too hard to be casual, and you feel his grin against your neck.

“That’s my girl.”

Hot pleasure sparks beneath your skin at his words, but it’s nothing compared to the electric shock as his fingers slip between your embarrassingly wet folds.

“That’s my slut,” Touya groans sharply, his tone low and laced with thinly veiled desire. “Do you know how wet you are? I always knew you were a needy little thing.”

You whine as he parts your folds, tracing over your hole and up to your clit. It’s almost twitching with the desire to be touched, white hot and wanting. “Touya, please.”

“Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to hear that,” he mumbles, tongue pressing to your neck, kissing and biting at the sensitive skin there as he obliges you. You moan breathily and uncontrolled as he circles the bud delicately, again and again. “You sound so good sayin’ my name like that, doll.”

He’s rocking his hips into you steadily now, grinding against your back.

Heat and frustration is building steadily as your step-sibling continues to play with you, and you realize that he is quite literally playing with you—switching between the way he touches your clit, moving from circling it gently to tapping it, rolling it between his fingers. 

Touya knows to be thorough, to find out exactly what you like, to make this unforgettable. He’s listening and paying close attention to the way you react to his every touch. Every now and then slender fingers slide down and he presses a digit or two into your soaked cunt, now dripping obscenely, curling them lazily as he searches for what makes your body sing. 

Even with his lazy movements, you can feel something coiling tight inside you. Whatever this is between you, it's been too long coming, your hips jerking as pleasure threatens to undo you. But before you can be taken apart, Touya slips his fingers from your waistband.

You whine at the loss, whipping your head towards him only for him to grasp your chin and pull you closer, his tongue prying your lips apart and delving inside. His fingers are still slick from your juices, gripping your chin tighter as he shifts you under him, supporting his weight on one arm as he kisses you like this is his last chance to. 

You don’t have the coherency to tell him it’s not, dizzy with want by the time he pulls back. His sapphire eyes darken when you wrap a leg around his hips to instinctively keep him close, his lips glistening in the flickering light of the tv.  

“Tell me you want this.” He stares down at you intently, holding your gaze as he waits for your admission. 

There’s no point in denying it anymore. Of course you do.

“I want you.” 

Touya grabs at your thigh curled around him and pushes it off, smirking at your pout as he sits back on the couch. “‘S cute, but don’t make that face. Strip all that off, and c’mere.”

You all but scramble as he pats his lap, pulling your shirt over your head and bra following quickly, equal parts pleased and embarrassed when you see the way his gaze is locked on you, trailing down your exposed skin. As you slip the last of your clothing down your legs and step out of it you look at him, confused when he just sits there watching you.

“Aren’t you gonna…” you trail off, eyebrows furrowing.

Touya perks an eyebrow at you. “Didn’t I say c’mere? We were watchin’ a movie, weren’t we?”

His voice is too light, and you know that tone. He’s up to something, but big brother Touya is always up to something. And he always gets his way. So instead of questioning him again, you do what he wants and you settle into his lap, only making a small noise of complaint when he faces you away from him. 

He clicks his teeth. “Don’t be a brat now, you were being such a good girl earlier.”

“You’re not being fair,” you mumble, squirming. “Why’m I the only one naked?”

“Cause you’re prettier than me.” He’s teasing and you know it.

Your protest is cut off as he yanks you back against his chest and cups your breasts, slender fingers pulling at your nipples and rolling them. 

“Fuck!”

“My cute little whore has such a dirty mouth,” Touya purrs in your ear. “Just sit still. Lemme touch.”

You try, you really do. He kneads at your breasts, smoothes his hands down your body, exploring you languidly. It’s impossible.

“Touya—” you break off with a squeak as he bites your shoulder in reprimand. “Hey!”

Touya laves his tongue over the stinging mark and coos. “Aw did that hurt?”

“A little…”

“Want my cock to make it better?”

You suck in a breath. It comes out of his mouth like a sweet invitation, but there’s just enough insecurity in his cocky tone for you to hear (that only you could hear) that you know he’s uncertain of your answer. His heart is pounding against your back, further betraying his underlying anxiety.

Not one to torture your loved ones, you squirm back on him. “Make it better, Touya. Make me feel better.”

“Say it,” he demands, turning your head to look at him.

Blue eyes glare down at you desperately, searching for any hint that you’re playing him. You’re quick to douse the flames of doubt.

“Fuck me,” you whine. “I want your cock.”

“Shit,” Touya breathes, flopping back against the couch, hiking you further up his lap so he can reach the button of his jeans and pop it open. 

You moan at the feeling of something warm and hard sliding between your thighs as he shifts you back into place, before spreading your legs over his own. 

"Eyes on the movie, doll," Touya rasps, teasing your slit with the head of his cock. "You wanted to watch it, remember?"

You wanted the chance to see him, the disappointment welling in your chest evaporating as quickly as it appears at the feel of him pushing the head in and out of your soaking heat.

"What about you?" Your last word cuts off in a gasp as he pushes into you fully, his girth spreading you open.

"Was never watchin’ the movie," he breathes, a groan hitching in his throat as the walls of your cunt squeezes him in a vice grip.

It feels different, and not just taboo different. 

"Touya, what's that?" You moan as something—several cool to the touch somethings—rub against the front wall of your pussy, making your toes curl as pleasure bolts from nerve to nerve. 

“I’ll show you later,” he groans impatiently, his hands fumbling on your hips to hold you still. “J-just, fuck— Lay back, would you?”

You comply, and Touya sinks lower on the couch, his feet on the floor to give him the leverage to fuck into you, each stroke slow and languid. Pleasure courses through your veins, hot and sticky, your eyes pinching closed as you focus on the feel of him. 

He’s so long and wonderfully girthy—just enough to feel stretched, the fat head of his cock touching deep every time he sinks into you—but you can’t get over the scrape of those…god, what are those? 

You can’t think, your moans splitting the thick air of the living room, legs quivering under his touch as he smooths his palms along your spread thighs. You’re both lost in a loop of exhilaration and long awaited satisfaction, your hips jerking into his every time he sinks in deep and grinds. 

His teeth meet your shoulder again, digging into the same grooves he left behind before. Your thoughts are sluggish beyond the haze of pleasure but it feels like he’s marking you, leaving something of himself behind. The thought chases away the sharp sting, winds a sudden coil in your gut, and you suck in a breath as something white flashes behind your eyelids.

“Touya!”

“Yeah, I feel it,” Touya moans behind you—moans, and the sound of it has you clenching around him hard, forcing a choked groan from his lips. “Fuck yeah, doll. Keep squeezin’ my cock like that. Perfect little slut, touch yourself for me.”

With shaky hands you begin to circle your own clit, lightly, the added stimulation threatening to unravel you right now, but you don’t want this to end. Not yet. It feels so good; whines and broken iterations of his name are all you feel capable of.

“Tell me how it feels.” There’s a desperate edge in his voice now, tight with desire and something else, something that sets you alight from head to toe. 

“It feels so good! So warm, ‘m gonna—” It’s a borderline sob now, with you feeling as if you’re dangling on the edge of something dangerous. You’re almost scared of the blooming sparks in your belly, but you wretchedly race towards them anyways.

Touya’s thrusts grow a little frenzied, the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you loud in your ears. He’s panting, his groans ragged, barely holding on himself.

“Tell me you love me.”

His voice is rough, but so impossibly tender—needy. Your mind short circuits at the sound, pleasure igniting in your belly and your hand reaches back to tangle in his hair as you fall apart.

Touya groans, one hand tight on your hip as you spasm around his cock, his other reaching around to replace yours, gently circling your clit to help you ride out your orgasm. 

“Touya! I love you, Touya—oh, god!”

Touya stiffens and shudders as pleasure melts the base of his spine, zipping up along it, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he spills inside you with a low whimper. “F-fuck—”

You both sag into the couch, chests heaving as you wind down from your respective highs. You squirm at the feeling of him softening in you before he grumbles something unintelligible and pulls you down onto your side with him.

His heart races against your back as he pushes a pillow into place—letting you use his arm as one yourself—and you wonder if he can feel the way yours is threatening to beat out of your chest. 

He’s still pressed stubbornly close to you, the rough edge of his jeans pressing into the back of your thighs as he tries to stay buried in your pussy for as long as he can, but he still remains silent behind you, his breath hot on your neck.

“I love you, Touya.” 

You say it again, softly this time. You want him to hear it when you’re not swimming in pleasure; you want him to hear just how much you mean it. 

Touya hums, a low contented sound. “Always knew ya did.” 

He sounds like he always does, snarky, but there’s a warmth in his voice that betrays his happiness.

“So what now?”

“Now we finish your damn movie, and then you need a shower. You’re kinda a mess right now,” he purrs devilishly in your ear, making you shiver even as a new bolt of heat strikes down your spine.

“And then?” You moan as he finally slips out of you, cheeks heating at the feel of his cum spilling out between your thighs. 

Touya reaches a hand between your legs, lazily sliding his fingers through the mess. “And then I fuck you the way I really wanted to. I need to see the face you make when I make you cum. Hope you know I’m not usually this sweet ‘nd gentle, right? Think you can take it?”

“So you were just being nice to me?” you tease gently, pushing your ass back towards him. “Do you think I’m that delicate?”

“You better not be.”

“Try me.”

A low groan pulls from his throat and Touya bundles you off the couch. You scramble to your feet before you can fall, and turn to look at him.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, sapphire eyes dark and blown, desire etched into the hard lines on his face. His jeans are low on his hips and he tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the couch. 

Your eyes trace over the garden of ink on his torso, a swirling mass of flames and flowers that you’ve spent plenty of time admiring in the past. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, used to Touya lounging around the house in the warmer months in nothing but a pair of shorts, but with the darky, needy look in his eyes as he prowls towards you… It’s different now. He’s not stripping to get comfortable.

Anticipation thrills up your spine.

“Shower, now,” Touya rasps, herding you down the hallways towards your room. “And I better not catch you whinin’ cause I ain’t stoppin’ ‘til I’m through with you.”

Sunlight pours through the small gap of your bedroom blinds, but that’s not what wakes you. You’re far too used to it for that. You’re not sure what it is exactly that has you blinking awake.

Maybe it has something to do with the arm wrapped around your waist, or the thigh curled over your own. It could be the mild soreness between your legs, or possibly the stinging sensation of multiple bite marks across your body, courtesy of the perpetrator currently lightly snoring into your shoulder. 

You gently turn over, detangling yourself from his limbs as quietly as possible. Touya has always been a somewhat heavy sleeper, so it’s not like it’s hard; but he really isn't a good morning person, so the last thing you want to do is wake him.

He mumbles something and flips onto his stomach, not waking for a moment. 

You gaze at him for a moment, eyes soft. His hair is a mess, inky strands sprawled across the section of his face not buried in the pillow. After smoothing the wayward tresses covering his eyes, you sit up slowly, your gaze drawn to the ink twisting up his back. Your fingers trace the lines with quiet reverence.

It really is beautiful; you know it took Touya a long time to get it all done. The hemlock on his forearms drooping and smoking from the surrounding flame turn to vines as they spread out up his biceps, shoulders, and throat. You know on his front the vines swirl throughout a meadow of baby’s breath and gladioli down his collarbone and chest, but on his back they weave around a breathtaking lotus that’s shedding its petals one by one, the ones that fall gathering in a pile at the dip of his spine. 

“Ya done starin’?”

You jump as he rolls onto his side to smirk at you, eyes droopy and tired. Touya chuckles at your expression and tugs you to his chest, giving a low groan as he tries to get comfortable again.

“Touya, wait—”

“Just go back to sleep, alright? It’s still fuckin’ early,” he mumbles gruffly, closing his eyes.

But your eyes are wide open, filled with panic. “I said wait, Touya!” you hiss desperately, struggling in his hold to sit back up.

You can feel the heat of mortification storming across your body as you maintain eye contact with the youngest Todoroki, who’s standing silently in the doorway of your bedroom. 

His two-tone eyes are unreadable, but you know your younger brother well enough by now to know that the slight pull of his eyebrows means he’s shocked, that the miniscule purse of his lips means he’s upset.

Not that you can blame him. Walking in on your step-sister naked in bed with your older brother is not exactly prime model behavior. 

“S-shoto,” you whisper, pitched and panicked. “I, uh…”

Oh, god, there’s no good way to explain this. You’re frozen, too petrified to even shield your body from his hard stare. You’re covered in bites and bruises, hair a mess and you can almost feel your relationship with Shoto shattering to dust when Touya groans dramatically and shoves his face in the pillow.

“Seriously, Shoto, your timing is fuckin’ awful. It’s too goddamn early for this. Try again later.”

Shoto glares at his brother and you can only gape at him as he drops his bag in the doorway and sits on the edge of your bed, right by your side. “You’re too impatient, nii-san. We agreed that we were going to wait.”

“Plans change.” Touya’s words are still muffled into the pillow, resiliently clinging to the notion that sleep is not yet lost. “Snooze ‘nd you lose.”

“Wait, what?”

Shoto doesn’t answer your question, a pout forming on his lips as he traces the teeth marks on your shoulder with a gentle touch. He doesn’t miss the slight wince of your expression; Touya had marked that same spot several times over last night. 

“He was so rough with you,” Shoto says softly. “I would have been gentle.”

Touya snorts and raises his head. “Fuck off, I was gentle. …the first time.”

Shoto rolls his eyes. “Kinda hard to believe when she’s covered in teeth marks.”

You’re too busy reeling to take much notice of their bickering. 

It’s Shoto; straight-laced, kind, upstanding Shoto. The Todoroki family’s shining star. Why isn’t he telling you how sick this is, and demanding to know what you were thinking crossing the bounds of family in such a forbidden manner?

Shoto notices your rising agitation and murmurs something soothing, trying to catch your attention by cradling your face in his palms. His eyebrows furrow gently at the sight of your quickly welling tears. 

“We love you.” He says it simply, like that’s all there is to know.

Touya sits up swiftly since he obviously isn’t going to get to go back to sleep, and croons at you as he kisses the back of your neck, “Want us to prove it, doll?”

Shoto glares at his brother over your shoulder, unimpressed. “You already got to be with her.” 

“And I’m gonna have her again. If you want her at all you’re gonna learn how to fuckin’ share, little brother.”

Why didn’t you see it all before? 

Shoto has always clung to you. He was almost as desperate for your attention as Touya right from the start. He always insisted you help him study, even when you were certain he knew the material already; he would ask you to cook dinner with him on his nights. 

When he graduated he insisted you visit him every weekend so you wouldn’t drift apart; it was him who suggested his father’s agency for your internship, where he debuted as a hero a few years ago. He even wrote your recommendation letter. He would always swing by in the morning with your coffee order, and without fail walked you to your car every night.

His love just wasn’t as obvious, at least not to you. His hugs were quick, like he didn’t want to be touched; his kisses might as well have been ghostlike, like he couldn’t handle being that close. You always thought he was just copying his big brother, but out of obligation, not desire.

“You love me?” You whisper the words looking at Shoto, but the question is for both of them.

"Of course—"

“Don’t be stupid, doll,” Touya mumbles, cutting him off and sucking another bruise into a miraculously unmarked portion of your neck. “‘Course we do.”

Shoto quietly brushes a stray tear from the apple of your cheeks, his lips following soon after. They’re warm, soft against your skin. 

He smiles.

“You weren’t around when we were growing up, so it’s not obvious to you how much we’ve changed for the better since you joined our family. I can’t imagine the person I’d be right now if it weren’t for the way I feel about you.”

“Shoto…”

Shoto pulls back, his smile still warming his face, but smaller, calmer. “Especially Touya. I think if it weren’t for you, he would have left us a long time ago. Our father wasn’t…well, you brought him back.”

You stiffen in surprise, and Touya grumbles under his breath, trying to cover his embarrassment with coarseness. “Brat. Don’t go spoutin’ that shit now.”

Shoto makes a low huff of amusement before tugging you out of the eldest’s arms, ignoring Touya’s growl of protest. 

“Let me have you to myself for just a minute,” Shoto breathes.

And then he’s kissing you. His touch is so sweet and he’s so warm that you can’t help but melt into him. No part of him is shying away from you now as he pushes himself between your legs, strong arms guiding you back down to the bed. 

He’s unyielding as his tongue traces the seam of your lips, a heady desperation fueling him that you can’t help but get swept up in, parting your lips for him with a breathy moan. Shoto hums, his tongue meeting yours tentatively until your fingers curl into the collar of his shirt and tug him closer, and he crumbles. The kiss grows wet, fervent, your head swimming as he refuses to relent, content to taste you even as your legs curl around his waist, spelling your impatience. 

“Calm down,” he mumbles against your lips, giving you a small break as he nips gently at your neck, his tongue soothing the bite marks decorating your throat. “There’s no need to rush any of this.”

“I don’t want to wait.” You gasp as his lips move lower, sucking and kissing at your collarbone, down the valley of your breasts, down your navel. Sparks follow the trail he’s making, down to where he stops, his eyes staring in disapproval of more bites scattered across the insides of your thighs.

His eyes are sharp as they look to you then Touya when your head falls back onto your pillows, covering your face in embarrassment. 

“Is there no part of her you left untouched?”

Shoto glares at him, but Touya stares back, both smug and aroused. 

“Nope.”

“You’re an animal.”

“She liked it.”

“Oh my god, stop talking!” you whine, forearms still covering your face. Excitement and arousal is making your body hot and you’re desperate for Shoto to keep going, but you know they could bicker forever. You’ve seen it plenty of times.

His mismatched eyes soften as they flash back to you, and he leans to pull your arms down. When he’s satisfied you’re watching him he continues, pressing his lips to the juncture where your thighs meet your mound. 

Your chest feels tight with anticipation as his fingers grope at your thighs, kneading the plush flesh before sliding around to cup your ass. You moan when he inhales the scent of your growing arousal before his tongue peeks out to part your folds, flattening and dragging up through your slit. As he reaches the bundle of nerves at the top, he retreats, blowing on the nub lightly. Shoto’s head swims at the sound of your whine, so he does it again, desperate to hear you make that sound again.

Shoto’s fingers dig into the swell of your ass as he groans and pulls you closer, his tongue delving into your dripping cunt and lapping at your juices. You’re propped on your forearms, watching him with hazy eyes as he tastes you, your chest heaving at the assault of sensations. 

He’s gentler than Touya, but that doesn’t make it any less intense. Your fingers grip the sheets tightly as he slurps at your cunt, his tongue blistering on your slit as he draws it up to flick over your swollen clit. You keen when he seals his lips around it and sucks, the touch hot and wet. 

The sloppy sounds of him savoring you make your body ignite, your arousal spilling onto the sheets even though you haven’t cum. You’re desperate to, but Shoto’s movements are slow and deliberate—you can tell he’s nowhere near finished. 

Teal and brown eyes are not quite closed but far-seeing, as if he’s lost in something—in you. The sight of it tightens something in you, has your shaking fingers reaching for him until they tangle in the crimson strands of his left side. Shoto’s groan devolves into a whine as you tug him closer, the vibrations of his noises making your eyes roll back. The younger Todoroki doesn’t resist your grasp, he leans into it, his tongue moving deeper, more desperate.

You make a noise of approval, your hips jumping when his fingers slip into you, prodding at your walls until your legs snap closed around his cheeks. He looks drunk cushioned between your thighs, the wet sounds and his moans melding together and making your mind melt.

“Fuckin’ shit,” Touya rasps beside you, on his knees now as his fingers form a tight ring around the head of his cock.

Your head turns to him, moaning when he shuffles towards you and presses the head of his cock against your lips. 

“Open up, doll. You’re killin’ me, sound so good like that.”

With a soft whimper, you part your lips and he feeds his cock into your mouth with a relieved sigh. As he pushes deeper you drag your tongue over each metal bar on the underside of his cock, gentle with the balled ends, counting five as they push deeper.

Last night in the shower Touya finally let you have a look, grinning at your wide eyed expression as you carefully brushed your fingers along his Jacob's ladder. He’d hissed under his breath as you nudged the last set, the lorum at the base of his shaft.

“Easy, that one’s new.”

That’s what you’re reaching for now as his fingers thread through your hair, his groans rough as he pulls you deeper onto his cock, your tongue swirling at the furthermost metal beads. You preen as he curses at the wet touch of your tongue ghosting the edge of his balls.

Touya pulls out slowly before thrusting back into your mouth; you’re trying your best not to gag, swallowing rapidly as his head touches the back of your throat.

“That’s a good slut,” Touya hisses, holding your head flush to his pelvis. His cock throbs at the feel of your throat closing around him, his head tossing back. “Pay attention to me.”

You whimper around Touya’s cock as Shoto gives a harsh suck on your clit, uncharacteristic of his attentions so far, and your watery gaze flicks downward to see Shoto leveling a heated stare at his brother again.

Touya takes notice, a lopsided grin spreading across his face as leers back at his little brother. “What, don’t like me calling it like it is? She really is a good little whore for me, you know. You should’ve heard the way she screamed for me last night.”

You moan around his length as one of Touya’s hands closes around your neglected breasts, his fingers pulling at the hardened nubs to hear the desperate sounds you make as he rocks in and out of your mouth.

“You shouldn’t call her that,” Shoto mumbles, his eyes glazed as he watches you writhe under his brother’s touch. His chin and cheeks are smeared with your arousal. The beginning beads of sweat have his hair sticking to his forehead. 

Touya shrugs. 

“She seems fine with it. Hasn’t complained.” He eases out of your throat and watches you inhale sharply, taking in the much needed oxygen. 

“Still.”

The younger one sits up and slides off the bed, a smile tugging at his lips at your whine of protest. Shoto pulls his shirt over his head, ruffling his hair and dropping it to your floor before popping the button of his jeans, hooking his thumbs in the waistband to push them off.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve only just started,” Shoto breathes, returning to the bed with a new fire in his eyes. 

You inhale shakily at the sight of him exposed, the rippling muscle a sharp contrast to Touya’s lean figure. The eldest is healthy, and in no way out of shape, but Shoto’s strict training regimen has his body in peak physical condition. 

There’s clean white and pink scars littering his chest from his escapades as a hero, but it does nothing to take away from his beauty. As he steps closer to you, your eyes trail downward to his pelvis where his cock bobs between his legs looking painfully hard, the pretty pink tip drooling. Your eyes widen; it looks heavy, thick, unable to bear its own weight and leaning to the left. At the base is a well-kept patch of hair that matches his split coloration just like the rest of his body hair. 

As if sensing your trepidation at his brother’s size, Touya narrows his eyes and rests back on his haunches so you can take a moment to get adjusted. Shoto pulls you to the edge of the bed, spreading your thighs and standing between them as his hungry stare roves over your glistening cunt before snapping up to meet your gaze. He slides his length between your dripping folds and takes in a harsh breath at the feel of you.

His voice is soft, a light tremble to it the only tell of his nerves. “Do you want me to use a—”

“No,” you mumble shyly, fighting the urge to cover your face as his cheeks pinken at your immediate denial. “I wanna feel you, Sho’.”

“Okay,” he returns, sounding dazed. “Okay.”

Shoto drags the thick head of his cock through your juices again, lubricating himself fully before pressing himself against your fluttering hole, completely focused on the way you respond as he eases himself into your warmth.

You moan loudly at the immediate stretch, head thrown back as he slowly enters you. His eyebrows furrow at your tight heat, and he groans lowly in his chest as he coaches himself internally not to just hilt himself in you. 

A strangled sound works its way up both your throats as he drags his hips back and pushes in again, trying to work himself deeper. 

“Sho,” you gasp, fingers digging into the sheets as he sinks another inch into you, your eyes screwing shut. He’s so thick you don’t understand it. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s overwhelming, fighting the urge to let your eyes roll back into your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” Shoto chokes out, gripping your thighs tightly to ground himself. “So tight, so perfect. Feels like you’re made for me.”

“Holy fuck.” The words come from Touya, and you barely register the slick sound as the eldest slowly works his fist over his cock. Sapphire eyes lock on to where your drooling cunt is struggling to accommodate even two thirds of his younger brother’s cock. 

You can feel yourself getting more desperate, wanting to ground yourself to something, but there’s nothing to hold onto. 

Touya eyes the way your chest heaves, goosebumps rising on his skin at the hiccuping mewls you keep making. With an amused huff, he drops his cock and shifts closer until he’s sitting at your side. Shoto glares at him as he gets closer gripping your thighs possessively, but the heat falls short, the feeling of your slick walls too much. 

“Just keep going,” Touya mutters gruffly, staring down at your trembling figure as opposed to making eye contact with his little brother. “You should be doin’ this yourself, but as much as I like watchin’ her squirm, she likes it when I touch her.”

His slender fingers trace over your mound before his thumb presses into your throbbing clit. 

“F-fuck!” you warble out as heat strikes low in your belly, and Shoto echoes you with a groan as your cunt flutters around him as if trying to suck him deeper.

“There’s that dirty mouth,” Touya coos, voice dripping with playful condescension. He rubs slow, soothing circles around your clit, his eyes almost predatory with hunger. “That feel better? Bet you’re soaking now. Want him to just shove it in you, hmm?”

“Y-yes, yes!” you whine, teary eyes flickering from Touya to Shoto, desperate, pleading. “Want more, Shoto, please. Deeper!”

Shoto shakes at the pure need in your tone, his thighs tensing as his cock throbs. “Shit, sweetheart. Are you sure?”

“Please!”

“You heard her.” Touya retracts his hand, sucking the traces of your arousal off his fingers as he retreats further onto the bed. 

Shoto barely hears him, adjusting his grip so that he’s holding your hips as he firmly fucks himself deeper. The gape of your lips, the tears clinging to your lashes: that’s all he can see as he’s finally seated in your pussy. It feels like the heat of you is going to melt him. He groans as you wrap your thighs around his waist and leans down to capture your lips. 

You’re taking him like it’s nothing now, your tits pressed against his chest as you arch into him, hips bucking into his as he fucks you slow. His kiss is hot, quick, desperate, but he has to fuck you slow or he’s going to lose it. His body tingles with pleasure as your moans spill into his throat, your nails raking down his back as you ground yourself.

Shoto’s mind swims as you mewl his name against his lips over and over. His head feels full of cotton as his thrusts begin to get a little sharper, jostling the bed. His grip on your hips tightens as he pulls you steadily back into each thrust, pupils blowing out at the way your cries get more desperate, your back arching as your walls clamp and spasm around him. There’s a gush of slick coating his pelvis and the tops of his thighs now, but Shoto doesn’t stop; his hands slip under your back, grasping you tightly as he pulls you up off the bed completely.

You sink deeper onto his cock with a high squeal, and Shoto cups your ass to hold you up a little, widening his stance so he can fuck into you steadily. You whimper at the overstimulation, your teeth finding his collarbone as Shoto mumbles breathlessly.

"A little more, sweetheart. Just a little more, you're doing so good."

Touya snorts. "Now who's an animal?"

Shoto whines and turns, sitting back onto the bed and laying back, raising your hips so he can watch his length pumping into you. Your release is shining between your thighs, everywhere really, sticking to his thighs and matting the red and white of his pubic hair. 

When your moans cut off, Shoto looks up to see your lips pressed to Touya's. The elder brother has his fingers between your legs again, rubbing on your clit as he curls your fist around his cock, guiding your hand to stroke it with his own. 

The tension in Shoto's gut stretches thin when he picks up Touya's low rasp, biting out between the gaps of his rough kisses.

"C'mon doll, squeeze him for me— You want a break, you gotta make him cum. You wanna make him cum, don't'cha?"

"Yeah, wanna feel him cum," you whimper, tearing your lips from Touya's to stare down at Shoto with pleading eyes. "Want your cum Sho', please."

"S-shit, sweetheart."

Shoto half sits up in his aim to reach for you, his finger’s curling around the back of your neck and pulling you back down with him as he licks into your mouth. His other arm wraps around your hips, holding you down onto him as he grinds his cock into you, moaning shamelessly down your throat at the way your walls are milking him. 

“Oh fuck, oh shit—” Shoto breaks from your lips with a low cry, clutching you to his chest; white dots his vision as he gives in, his cock jerking as he unravels, several spurts of hot cum shooting deep into your pussy. “Oh god, you feel so good. You did so good.”

A jolt runs up his spine when Shoto realizes your hips are moving, grinding down on his slowly softening cock.

“So close,” you slur into his chest. “‘M so close, Sho’. ‘M right there.”

“Keep going, sweetheart,” Shoto breathes, trying not to moan at the jolt of overstimulation on his spent cock.

It’s sensitive, but it’s bearable, especially when it’s rewarded as your fluttering walls clamp down hard, your thighs quaking around his own. Your whine is loud even as it muffles into his shoulder, your nails digging into his chest as ride out your orgasm with little jerks of your hips. Shoto can barely comprehend the feeling swelling up inside him as you babble about how good his cock feels, how good he’s making you feel; amazement, pride, and no short amount of giddiness sits warm in his chest. 

Shoto rubs a soothing palm up and down your back, mumbling sweet nothings as you relax into his chest, only to groan softly as your hips raise enough for his cock to slip out with a wet sound. His head pops up at the feel of something brushing between his legs, only to see Touya standing above you both, his hands on your hips. 

Goosebumps rise on Shoto’s skin as he feels Touya’s hand brush over the tops of his thighs as his elder brother angles his cock towards your quivering, spent pussy.

You moan weakly, but don’t shy away from his touch.

“She looks so worn out, poor thing,” Touya coos, his voice filled with a sympathy that doesn’t match the wicked gleam in his eyes. “But this slutty pussy should be able to take more than this. Don't worry, doll. You'll get used to it soon."

[beni75]

Photos and texts: @thomaspeschak

1-. A curious gray whale exhales almost directly into my camera

2-. A curious juvenile gray whale vigorously exhales and speeds past my camera in Mexico's San Ignacio Lagoon

3-. A Humpback whales breaches in the North Pacific Ocean off Canada's Great Bear Rainforest

4-. A dusky shark charges through a baitball of sardines

5-. y 6-. A whale sharks swins in shallow water in La Paz Bay, Baja California Sur

7-. A reef manta ray feeds on a plankton patch by barrel rolling over and over again in the same spot, not unlike a puppy chasings its own tail

8-. A reef manta ray feeds along the drop off at D'Arros Island an St. Joseph Atoll. Seychelles

9-. African peguins

10-. A endemic Socotra cormorant comes in to land on a roosting rock deep within the Fjords of Oman's Musandam Peninsula (2012)

11-. African peguins shelter and nest in decaying building long abandoned b the guano industry on Namibia's Halifax Island

12-. At Aldabra atoll green sea turtles often rest for hours on the sandy seabed between coral outcrops

13-. Blacktip reef sharks inspect the hull of our boat on Aldabra's tidal flats. Seychelles

14-. Blacktip reef sharks patrol the drop off where D'Arros Island's coral reef descendes into deeper water

15-. Cape fur seals surf Altantic swell in the Table Mountain Marine Protected Area

16-. Cape Gannet colony on Bird island bathed by lightening and the beam of the lighthouse

17-. The hunt begins at dusk and continuous deep into the night

18-. A curious gray whale swins upside down beneath our boat in Mexico's San Ignacio Lagoon

19-. A venomous lionfish hunts baitfish in Mozambique's Ponta do Ouro marine reserve, by @thomaspeschak

20-. A salmon leaps high into the air to clear a raging waterfall

21-. A wild rocky point just out into the North Pacific Ocean

22-. A large potato grouper hunts amongst schools of baitfish that seasonally drape southern Mozambique's reefs

23-. Dolphins of Indo pacific

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 82)

The pod now lay in peices, a small team of drones hovering over each section, taking note of the way it was designed and more importantly why, so that it could be properly emulated then construction began on the proper escape shuttle.

That's what Uzi was doing now, sitting on a chair in the outdoor workshop that one of her team insisted she sit on instead of standing, and thinking realistically on what they would need to escape Copper- 9's gravity well safely and, more than that land somewhere else without being cooked in the atmosphere.

Aluminum, lots of it, first and foremost, it was the lightest metal they had on hand, and thankfully, present in the vehicles that littered the roads, the bunker had a forge, it was offline at the moment (because they had no use for an industrial grade forge) but it shouldn't be too difficult to reactivate. They had enough solid fuel to keep it running temporarily… just long enough to see this through.

N and V could both lift cars with ease, so getting the burned out vehicles into the bunker was also a non-issue, so at the very least, they had that covered.

Oxygen wasn't needed, Drones didn't need to breathe, she… could breathe, but it seemed like she didn't really need to all the time if her vents could get enough air into her system unaided, it was only went she was doing something laborus or anxiety inducing would they really start going. They need some sort of air though… so it will have to be pressurized in some way.

Khan would probably be in charge of that, pressurized doors sounded right up his area of expertise, so she filed that away for something to give to him.

Next came recharging, it was probably a good idea to reuse the standing charge pods that were present in the landing pods, it would be uncomfortable sure… but it would save on space and weight.

With all that in mind, she began a preliminary sketch, trying to fit in as many charging pods in as little space as she physically could, the bigger the shuttle, the longer it would take to construct and the harder it would be to get out of the planets gravity.

The gravity wasn't very strong… lacking a core would do that, but light was best regardless.

“Liz, I'm not going to ask you to do this… it's more my responsibility…” She heard V's voice from outside the building, sounding wary and tired.

“Hell no, girl you are not claiming sole responsibility. We're all part of this now. May as well own it.” And that was Lizzy, Uzi grumbled lightly, glad that Tera was with N at the moment.

“Heeeey.” Lizzy poked her head into the doorway, it now had a sheet over it to keep out some of the draft, Uzi shivered slightly as the freezing wind hit her silicone, her core fluttering in displeasure.

“What?” Uzi asked gruffly, not wanting to really interact with her, she wouldn't call them enemies now, but a “freind” was probably still a bit of a stretch.

Even so Lizzy trapised up right to her side, V following close behind, arms crossed and looking like she'd just lost a fight with a bear.

Lizzy, the bear in question, leaned on the table in front of Uzi, quiet for a moment, V's eyes never left her, as if begging her to not do whatever she was about to.

“So V said you and N have a nest.” She started, making Uzi freeze up for a moment, feeling the embarrassment crawl up her back before shoving it down, there was nothing embarrassing about it.

“Yes.” She said simply, turning her head up from her very important work that she would very much like it get back to. Lizzy made no indication that she was phased by it.

“And that she's been sleeping in it for the past couple of days.”

Uzi blinked. Was… was Lizzy jealous? Of V sleeping in N and hers nest? Oh! Oh that was hilarious!

“Mmmhm?” A small smirk made it's way to her face, Lizzy didn't seem to notice it.

“Great! You won't mind a fourth then right?”

And suddenly the smirk was gone, and she heard V let out the world's most ‘done with this woman’ sigh she'd ever heard.

“Uh, Yes I do mind! Why do you even want to?!” Uzi exclaimed, sketch now long forgotten due to the audacity of this woman! Uzi didn't ask if she could sleep in Lizzy's bedroom, what gave the right for Lizzy to?

“Because V thinks it's her job and only her job to take care of you when N isn't around, and that's not right when I'm right here!” She pointed to herself, flipping her hair like she was the obvious choice.

“I don't need taken care of. I'm fine! I don't need all of you doting on me!” Uzi snapped, standing up quickly in protest… too quickly, her vison blurred for a moment as she was hit with vertigo, swaying and holding her head for a moment.

Lizzy steadied her on one side, V on the other, Uzi grumbled, leaning more into V automaticaly when her lovely warmth washed over her.

“Uh huh, face it girl, you need help and you can't hog my…” V looked at her, blushing furiously as she made a cutting motion with her hand.

“B-bestie all to yourself.” Lizzy finished with a stammer and a wild blush, Uzi rolled her eyes, why did they even try to hide it anymore? It was so obvious it hurt. Her and N weren't this bad. Right?

“Bite me. Both of you.” She grumbled, but her body betrayed her by purring loudly when she felt V pet her head gently, making Lizzy giggle and Uzi blush madly.

“Uh, Uzi?” The three girls turned around, Thad poking his head into the room with a sheepish smile on his face, his eyebrow raised as if he was asking a question.

“No.” Uzi groaned, but it clearly didn't matter, she felt Lizzy nod and then punch V in the arm, and she nodded as well. “NO.” She said more sternly, she wanted the nest to be private!

And yet… that daybreak the nest was full of all six of them, N and Herself, sleeping in the middle with Tera between them, V and Lizzy, curled up next to each other, V's tail and arm wrapped around her protectively, and Thad passed out in a corner, snoring like a freight train…

And she slept like a baby…

Next ->

[redflagshipwriter]

Nest Swap chapter 5 progress

In which Tim flirts with the sad thoughts but is not committed to them.

masterpost

Probably the best thing to do was to make sure everyone was happy with him. If he did everything that everybody wanted, there would be no issues. 

So, Tim finished his experiment for Miss Fox and sent her his report. The groceries arrived while he was finishing up. After he put it away, he made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and ate it one-handed while he looked up the address that Jason had told him about. 

“That's pretty far away,” Tim mused. Some grape jelly dropped onto the keyboard. He swiped it up with his sleeve. He was a little less careful about the apartment now that he knew it was Big Tim’s place and not someone important or mean. 

Huh.

Tim paused mid contemplation. Speaking of important people, where was Mom? (And also Dad.) He turned his head around looking for the most recent post card. He usually kept that on the fridge.

Apparently, Big Tim had lost the habit. The dig post card tacked to the fridge was years old. Tim took it down and read it anyway, smiling at Mom’s handwriting. It was neat and precise, just like her. 

He felt better. He'd figure it out later. Tim put a pin on the thought and went back to focusing on his- on Jason's request. He squirmed in his chair while he thought it through.

The address was in a residential neighborhood, the kind with separate houses and not apartment complexes. The suspect himself lived in a duplex. The other half of the duplex was registered to a retiree who Tim didn't find any digital trail of, other than that her Social security checks were being cashed and her bills were paid on time. Oh, neat, she had been part of Gotham’s historical recreation society. She seemed kinda cool.

She had crazy huge electric bills, though. Tim frowned at that. He wasn't absolutely sure. But he thought that most people didn't have electric bills in excess of $600 monthly. How was she even affording that off of her Social security income? 

“Maybe the neighbor killed her and is using her apartment for nefarious purposes,” Tim reasoned aloud. “He's chasing her check and concealing the death. Maybe he uses her apartment to store his industrial sausage making machines.” 

It was a bit of a reach but it seemed a little more likely than his follow-up idea: her hobby was running every appliance in her house at the same time for all the hours that she was awake.

Focus, Tim! How was he going to surveil this place?

It wasn’t like there were any nice big buildings with dramatic awnings and gargoyles to creep around. It was suburbia. 

Tim spun around on his chair miserably, hands on his head to help him think.

Were there any abandoned homes in the area that he could use as a viewpoint? He checked on that. No. No, there weren’t. Dangit. He looked up everyone who lived in the neighborhood, wondering if there might be like, a family on vacation or someone whose second floor was unoccupied. He didn’t see anything useful like that. There were just a bunch of families with little kids.

He spun faster. Maybe the centrifugal force would somehow jar his brain awake.

“There’s nothing for it,” Tim decided ruefully. “I have to go undercover as a child.”

He put on the light up sneakers that he had ordered, washed his face, and made sure he had enough money for the bus. Then he set off on an adventure with a little notepad in his pocket. When he got to the apartment lobby he realized that he probably should have brought Big Tim’s phone, but oh well. It was too far now.

He took three buses and walked twenty minutes. He arrived in the right neighborhood in the early evening, around 5 pm. He looked for rogue groups of playing kids to join in. He’d do whatever game they were playing, then subtly interrogate them.

Unfortunately, it seemed like everyone was inside eating dinner. Tim frowned at one window. He could see a table being set.

Weird.

Alright, new plan. The old lady neighbor was probably dead, so he could just sneak into her half of the duplex, find a place to hide, and observe whatever sick and twisted stuff Jason’s bad guy did. Then he could tell Jason about it later, and he would like Tim.

He tried the backdoor. It was locked. Tim skulked around the house and tried windows until he found one that was open. He had to scramble a bit to climb up the siding to get into the house but he managed it. He hit the floor with a tumble.

“I have a mace!” said a female voice. “I am prepared to use it upon you!”

Tim rolled over to see the retiree. “Oh,” he said. “Hello.” He was a little disappointed that he was wrong about her being dead, though of course it’s always nice when someone isn’t murdered.

Mrs. Henderson yanked open a drawer and withdrew her mace. She pointed it at him steadily over her walker.

“Whoa,” said Tim. “That’s really cool. That’s Gothic, right?”

She looked at her mace. “...I believe so,” she said. “Get out of my home!”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Tim said, deliberately not agreeing. He sat up and crossed his legs. “I didn’t realize that you lived here.”

Mrs. Henderson slowly lowered her Gothic mace, which was probably a replica of one from Western Europe and weighed about 2 kilograms. “...Did you mean to go next door?” she said, sounding more confused and less hostile. 

“Yeah, I got mixed up,” Tim lied like a champion. “I accidentally locked myself out and no one is home.”

Although that really wouldn’t be true for much longer. Hm. Maybe Tim should have waited until tomorrow to come by.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 11/21/2023

awful lot of cooking content from me, who hates cooking but finds the evenings jittery and boring

listening

Doorbell by Sterling Press, off the spotify weekly recced playlist. i don't know that i like this song. i don't know that it's particularly good. goddamn if it isn't catchy. alt britpop, they hate being compared to blur but mmmm. you do hear it. notes of ska as well. a song to blast in your car when your spring break plans fell through and you're driving to the good target two towns away from your hometown.

i don't think this music video could have existed pre-pandemic-- idk doorbell cams were that ubiquitous or well known, despite heavy advertising from nest.

from an interview:

Speaking about the new release, they said, “We wrote the song in our mates garage using drum samples off YouTube. We spent all night writing it then in the early hours of the morning drove to Maccies to have breakfast and had it on repeat the whole time. We all fell in love with it straight away. These lyrics speak to the importance of authenticity and sincerity in your actions. In a world where appearances and pretences can be misleading, it's a reminder to be true to yourself and to avoid trying to impress others for the sake of it. “I feel like its an experience we all share. We all know someone who goes off to uni or gets a new job and you bump into them on the street and they act as if they have no idea who you are. I guess this song is reflection of our frustrations towards those people.”

they have what i would consider an unusual amount of hype and presence for a band that has exactly three songs out, but they've all been making music together and separately since well before the pandemic so maybe they've just finally broken out? i can't figure out who these kids are related to. i don't think it's a full on industry plant but i do think someone's dad has some money.

a friend once said she hated how eighties songs faded out like a printer running out of ink, and i do not particularly care for how 2020s songs end with the entire band vanishing underwater.

this song is truly not that deep but it is thoroughly stuck in my goddamn head.

listening: special podcast edition

i am not looking for solutions. do not say solutions at me. i am taking through a brain thing and having a weird workflow and brain problem. i have tried other apps with browser support and do not like them, and i cannot have my personal apple id tied to my work computer bc i have and frequently use a work apple id.

i have been listening to podcasts through Spotify ever since mmm november ‘20. it has not been a good experience but juggling the Apple Podcasts app through my phone (distraction minefield) and whatever im listening to or working on with the work computer is a nightmare. ethics of spotify aside, it is a tremendously successful all in one listening platform. i do not have the brainspace to manage my own music library, and support my favorite artists in other ways.

i am not looking for solutions. do not say solutions at me.

however, if you listen to enough podcast episodes, spotify does not seem to believe you when you tell it to unfollow a podcast. it just keeps letting you know hey this has a new episode. this got me stuck on a loop where i was listening to more and more episodes of two very prolific conspiracy theory debunking podcasts to the exclusion of almost everything else. this was not very good for my mental health.

i am not looking for solutions. do not say solutions at me.

despite the real annoyance of finagling a very distracting phone and the work laptop, i have gone back to Apple Podcasts and (after weeding out a variety of podcasts for a variety of reasons) started listening to friends at the table again. not sure why i stopped but i felt a weird amount of guilt around restarting?? the tablefriends neither know nor care. i have finally finished road to palisade and am excited but nervous about starting palisade proper

-

reading

a local religious thrift store has absolutely rancid vibes but does regularly have 6/$1 book sales. there were a couple older trade paperback comics the last time: the first three volumes of ULTIMATE XMEN and a radom What If? superman.

my trouble with the xmen, and i have to read something from it once every two years to remind myself, is that magneto is right. they will never be able to assimilate into white picket fence middle america, or even among the liberal coastal elites or whatever the term du jour was in 1999. the box will always be smaller and you will never be perfect enough. i did not enjoy this enough to continue bc of this fundamental disagreement with most xmen comics.

also it looks like this. magneto’s lair has an arch in the shape of the arch on the front of his helmet and that was pretty baller, but there’s a real. what was they gimmick blog about all the comic book women in contorted spine-breaking poses? it’s like that a lot. WHAT is ororo’s body doing there

-

watching

hey. what the fuck do you mean tomato sauce is that easy. i dislike tomato sauce and almost exclusively eat jar upon jar of aldi brand pesto. im not allergic bc tomatoes aren't tingly but it's just sort of Nothing all the time. what do you mean it can be good???

i don't actually remember why i'm subscribed to mr internet shaquille. perhaps, like so many other food things, it's kali's fault.

-

playing

g/enshinposting.

pulled this horrid little brat. very pleased with myself.

i do not. love. her story quest. it falls into the childrens' media trap of Sometimes It's Okay For Other People To Stomp All Over Your Boundaries If It's For The Good Of The Group! or perhaps this is just a thing i'm particularly twitchy about. either way, annoyed that other characters of this importance have gotten some deeply moving writing and so far furina has...not gotten that.

the next character i am excited about is lolita taylor swift, or geo-aligned lady with big fuckoff sword. from some early maybe-leaks i think she would pair beautifully with my playstyle and my pirate lady with big sword. my playstyle is mostly brute force damage. i hit things as hard as i can until they fall over and i've played the entire game (with some exceptions that required actual thinking about elemental reactions) that way. it pleases me.

re: the conclusion of the annapausis sidequest, genshin does a really good job of teasing out "ok in a world with actual gods, what does spirituality look like/what are the differing views on fate/how do people make sense of an afterlife". mostly this is gnosticism. and sometimes it's a real life occultist secret society (reskinned Rosicrucianism). fascinating writing choices.

-

making

turkey cottage pie with scalloped potatoes, bc i had a five-pound bag of russets that were starting to sprout. im just going to yoink this pic i posted earlier bc it is now half gone and in tupperware form

this is the first time ive ever cooked in a dutch oven and im in love. i thrifted this for $20 some weeks ago but bc the lid has some chips and rust i haven't used it. which is silly, bc the body of the oven is fine. de-rusting and seasoning the lid will wait for a day when i actually need it bc for now we can get by with doubled-over sheet of aluminum foil.

used this recipe: only had a pound of ground turkey and liberally stretched it with potatoes (i think about three and a half pounds out of five) and three pounds out of a cheap frozen veggie mix bag. did not include mushrooms bc i did not like them. threw in some bay leaves bc i have a giant bag of them, i think i almost doubled the wine bc i doubled the recipe, but i do not think i remembered to double the beef stock. i also shook in a liberal amount of italian seasoning bc i have a cheap jar from aldi i want to use up.

the final product was somewhat soupy. i anticipated that slicing the potatoes was going to be the longest part (mostly true, i had to take breaks) and kept them in a big bowl of cold water to stop them browning while i chopped and after i blanched them. i also could have reduced the filling down some more but i am not a patient woman.

not as intended but still yummy, which was a lovely surprise bc usually when i fuck recipes up i fuck them up But Good. plus new technique (dutch oven). if i make this again (likely) i will do instant potatoes on top bc this was a fuck of a lot of chopping for one recipe. thinking about getting one of those stupid little hand smash veggie choppers bc a full food processor is extremely out of budget.

[choicefurnituresuperstore]

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[madelineserenity]

Matron Angst

for fredthemosquito

lord i am so tired but writing this wasn't actually that hard, it was just getting started that i was dragging my feet on

also i decided that instead of writing present-day matron, i wanted to delve into her past instead. that was purely out of interest and realising i haven't done that yet, and has nothing to do with a lack of ideas with the former timeframe. yup. nothing to do with that at all siree.

i love friday afternoons 🥳

Her life was perfect.

She was certainly no trophy wife; she wasn't much younger than her husband and didn't have the ideal feminine figure, too muscular after her years of constant housework and maintaining the veggie garden. She wasn't the prettiest lady either by society's standards, but she didn't mind. After all, he made her feel like she was, and that was all she needed. She had been a working woman, too, until she lost her career to the Depression. Her son was 1-and-a-half-years-old then. It was hard, very hard, but she managed to find joy regardless of the struggles she and her new family faced.

After losing her job, she, like other newly-unemployed women, returned to being a housewife. She didn't miss work all that much. She wrote to her old co-workers, looked after her son, and soon her daughter as well, she planted the garden for when food was expensive or completely unavailable, she sewed, and she looked after the household.

At 5:30 sharp every afternoon, she stopped watching the stove briefly, carrying one child on each hip, to greet her husband as he arrived home from his work as a car repairman. Often, it was with a kiss before he took their son off her hip to tell him about his workday. Her daughter sat on the kitchen floor watching her mother cook instead.

They'd have a hot supper as a family before the children washed up and begged their father for a story. She was better at coming up with them, but she couldn't deny his talent for storytelling with such emotion in his voice. They sat by the kids' beds, with her brushing her daughter's hair out as the three of them listened closely to his exciting tales. Sometimes, there was time for a slow, candlelit dance together in the living room after the children were put to bed. They went to bed, and repeated it again the next day.

Her life was perfect.

As time wore on, her children grew and grew until they themselves had married and forged families of their own. The Depression finally came to an end. The motor repair industry had only found more and more success, but her husband never worked more than a 9 to 5. His evenings were dedicated to being there for his children, spending time with his wife, and indulging in those late-night slow waltzes. That was, until the kids were no longer kids and they left the nest. He came home one night excitedly announcing a promotion at work. It meant more hours per week, but he assured her it'd be worth it. They would retire comfortably, in a cozy home, together.

So, she continued on with her usual life. She never returned to work, believing she'd never need to with her husband's new, higher salary. She didn't write to many of her old co-workers anymore, friendships having slowly faded over the years. She called her son and daughter on the telephone at least twice a week. The veggie garden was replaced with flowers and bushes that required less labour to thrive. She took up knitting, and she took care of the household. She had a lovely, hot supper on the table by 7 now, instead of 6. She soon found herself wrapping up everything spare her own portion to put in the fridge and reheat for him whenever he got home.

She missed the cheeky pecks on the cheek. She missed the dancing, the heated, passionate nights in bed and the time spent together. She missed the compliments. She missed feeling beautiful.

That was alright. She was in her later years now, her hair greying steadily. She didn't have the energy to get on her hands and knees in the garden, harvesting potatoes and beans anymore. Who was she to wish her husband paid more attention to her, when he came home exhausted every night after putting food on the table?

She never complained. She listened as he vented about his frustrations with his superiors. Whenever he'd let her, she'd massage his tense shoulders and light a cigar for him before bed. She never mentioned how much she missed waking up next to him in the mornings, only for him to lie down and rest on the sofa after work, instead of next to her.

He wouldn't be having supper with her tonight. Another important dinner with some superiors, he'd said. She made sure his shoes were polished and clean, ironed one of his best shirts, and was pulling a blue suit jacket out of the closet to iron next when she noticed a white box tucked right in the back. Some shoeboxes had formed a slight layer of dust on top, but this one was pristine, presumably recently disturbed. What was it? She couldn't remember what the box was, although she assumed her memory was just failing her these days.

She pulled it out, suit jacket discarded on the neatly made bed as she opened it to find countless letters. Some were addressed to him, the others to some woman she didn't know. Why were they hidden from view was her question. The first few seemed perfectly normal after all.

Only, they didn't stay normal. Invitations to late night rendezvous and lustful professions of attraction signed with a lipstick marks. Increasingly explicit and detailed descriptions of... of what he would do to this woman. Or what she would do to him. She became increasingly desperate for answers and disgusted by what she read.

"See you tonight." signed off by him was the last straw before she threw the box into the opposite wall, one corner leaving a hole in the wallpaper and drywall. The letters scattered across the floor. She gasped for breath through her choked tears, lowering herself onto her bed slowly.

When he opened the bedroom door opened that afternoon to get changed for his "dinner", he was met with his wife raging and crying, mascara ruined and dripping down her cheeks, and the perfectly sharpened blade of a kitchen knife.

She thought her life was perfect.

For how long had it all been in her head?

[chipen]

Shigaraki had a macabre beauty about him ; ashen hair that fell like curtains over a weary face, fingers slender as spiders legs, and a voice so deeply unsettling it sent shivers all along his spine. A house you should not venture to know, yet you find yourself in the foyer in the blink of an eye. Keigo had thought he could settle himself in the nest of this anguishing loner and not be completely affected. How wrong he had been. Before he knew it, his hands had taken Shigaraki's in his own, carefully, bringing them to his lips before placing a long and meaningful kiss atop his knuckles.      “ I did say I'm all in, didn't I? " their eyes meet, glossy amber to a crimson rose. He whispers. " Just tell me what you want, you can have it. ” / @soulspun

THE  NO.  2  HERO  IS  A  INDUSTRIOUS  LITTLE  THING  -  blatant  in  his  urge  to  wiggle  into  shigaraki's  good  graces,  despite  the  grand  commander's  penchant  for  death.  now  -  with  the  league  shrouded  in  opulence  -  hawks  was  afforded  the  comforts  of  not  meeting  villain  contacts  in  shady  warehouses,  and  consequently  seeing  shigaraki  outside  his  ratty  outfits.  crisp  and  clean,  shrouded  in  a  red  fur-lined  cape  and  seated  in  a  chair  that  looked  more  like  a  throne...  the  meeting  hall  is  devoid  of  members,  cleared  out  upon  his  whim  (  much  to  re-destro's  quiet  chagrin  )  due  to  seeking  solitude  and  quiet.  but  leave  it,  of  course,  to  hawks  to  find  him  like  some  sort  of  pernicious  gnat.  can't  say  he  minds  though,  not  with  the  way  the  pretty  bird  stands  in  between  his  spread  and  lounging  legs,  and  he  peers  up  at  him  through  father  with  shrewd  crimson  gaze.

hm.

his  hand  raises  -  and  he  watches  warily.  they're  his  most  important  asset  -  and  with  one  still  sore  (  yet  recovered  mostly  )  from  his  takeover  of  the  plm...  but  hawks  is  gentle.  indulgent.  his  lips  a  silky  caress  to  lethal  knuckles  and  shigaraki...  shigaraki  outright  moans  because  fuck,  people  never  touched  his  hands.  the  other  one  raises,  and  father  is  removed  from  his  face,  the  hand  set  almost  reverently  upon  the  throne  side  table.  crimson  gaze  unobscured  now  -  he  stares  up  at  the  hero,  and  slashes  a  vicious  smirk.

the  hand  in  hawks'  own  removes  itself,  instead  reaching  out.  two  fingers  coast  gently  upon  the  elder's  supple  feathers,  before  he  pulls  it  back  to  pat  his  thigh,  and  then  point  at  his  lap.   ❝ sit, ❞  comes  his  salacious  and  dangerous  croon,  ❝ sit  and  sing  for  me,  little  bird.  tell  me  all  your  heroic  secrets,  and  maybe  we'll  get  somewhere. ❞

[livewireatalanta]

just dropped in; PROLOGUE

[A SONG FROM YOUR CHILDHOOD STARTS PLAYING, A MELODY THAT REMINDS YOU OF A TIME WHEN YOU WERE A HAPPY CHILD — ONCE.]

Laying on the floor of the living room, the top of her head is settled against the top of Mark's. Like they're mirror images; her arms splayed out to the exact angle of his. The boombox is too close to their faces and in a minute their mother will come in from the kitchen and chide them for it, tell them how bad it is for their hearing. But for now, it's just Mark's crown against hers and the reverb of a slouched guitar sliding through the bridge of Heart-Shaped Box. The CD is secondhand and has a rough crackle behind the sound. In a month or so it will give out, finally, listened to over and over again by both its previous owner and the twins. Mark's breathy voice weaves through Kurt Cobain's and Nadia joins in without realizing: "Hey. Wait. I got a new complaint." Over and over again, on that chopper bringing her to whatever the fuck this new assignment is going to be, Nadia mouths that ending loop. Hey. Wait. I got a new complaint. Forever in debt to your priceless advice.

[A FIDGETABLE, ANALOG ITEM, CAN BE KNIFEY THOUGH YOU BETTER HAVE A GOOD REASON FOR IT TO BE]

Mark had given it to her, on her twenty-fifth birthday. A joke gift because she had been on a string of missions that all dealt with anomalies in the form of priceless pieces of art. Nadia ended up loving the small, handheld microscope, joke though it was. Especially much later, when the transfer to Xi-13 meant endless stake-outs and recon drops in the middle of nowheres. Everything in nature was ten times cooler under the loupe: leaves, and insect nests, and patches of fungi. They took all her knives (which was a major fucking red flag but she was already in too deep to argue) and her sidearm, so Nadia reaches for the loupe from her pack. Doesn't look through it -- not much to fucking look at aside from metal and industrial storage -- just folds it out of the protective sheath and back, listening to the hinge click and the air slide over the glass.

[A PLACE OF GREAT PERSONAL SIGNIFICANCE, BE THAT POSITIVE OR NEGATIVE]

Four blocks down and one over from Nadia's childhood house sat the Pine Grove Towship Park. There was a playground, a shade awning with picnic tables and a stretch of field that came up against a scrubbysuburban forest. Nothing you could really get lost in, but dense enough to make late night, summer games of Manhunt interesting. Adjacent to the drifting tall-grass was a baseball diamond (more often home to charity softball games between fire department and police force, or impromptu kickball matches as long as someone was able to lift one of the Franklin rubber balls from the school gym). It smelled like mud and grass and gravel and damp wood, from the chips that lined the ground under the play structures. Nadia had memories tied to every inch of that corner lot: smoking under the child-sized climbing wall as a teenager, swinging silently with Mark while the sun set further and further, running through the trees in pitch black and holding back laughter so she wouldn't tip off the other team. It doesn't really smell like the park when the copter finally touches down. And, when Nadia hauls the door open, it certainly doesn't look anything like a suburban, middle America public park. But something of that place, those memories, linger at the back of the mind. Maybe it's the feeling of darting through dark-touched trees to a stretch of underbrush, hoping the person hunting you couldn't hear you breathing. Whatever it is, Nadia shakes it off and steps onto frigid concrete.

[llittletingoddess]

Borderline

"This is my job, I have no other choice."

Part 1

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Genre: AU, Psychology, Drama, Angst, Character Study

Words Count: 1.2k

IMPORTANT: English is not my first language so there may be some mistakes, please be patient. Also note that it's based on real occurrences but do not claim to be accurate. Everything described is merely the author's point of view ♥

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August, 2022.

An ordinary routine summer day. Summer in Vail is one of the most interesting times of the year. And even though the number of tourists decreases over time during this period, the nature, on the contrary, surprises with its colors: Rocky mountains are submerged in greenery, the sound of waterfalls perfectly complements the tranquility present here, and the distant chirping of birds somewhere in the forest seems to transport you to a fairytale. An ideal place to live… with your family.

The life of a housewife is vastly different from the whirlwind of events she experienced all these years. His tours, red carpets, camera flashes, and universal popularity - it was like Cinderella transforming from a stepdaughter into a princess. But all of it came crashing down in one moment.

There were no signs of trouble. Francesca was cutting onions for the soup she would eat alone - the kids had long scattered to various places, and her husband… when did he ever like onion soup? Somewhere in the background, MTV was on to somewhat alleviate the deafening silence of the place. This house used to be a family nest, into which she poured her soul, but now these walls weigh her down with their emptiness. As she finished chopping the onions, out of the corner of her ear, she heard those lines:

— "…rock legend James Hetfield… divorce…25 years…"

Her heart sank. Once again, journalists referred to him as a rock legend. He would mutter something discontented about how people in the industry can't even tell metal from rock, and then he'd start comparing himself to someone like Mick Jagger, assuring everyone that he'd still be rocking at 70. This made Francesca bitterly smile at her own thoughts. She knew very well that divorce was inevitable. All these years, she lived in self-deception, hoping he would change. For the sake of the family. For her. But the more he changed, the less of that James she fell in love with remained. The one who became the father of her children. And she blamed herself for it. After all, it was her idea to get him to go for treatment for his alcohol addiction. But getting rid of the problem came at too high a cost.

With a heavy sigh, she turned off the TV with a dry hand. Sabbath, their black cat, the one James named after one of his favorite bands, gently rubbed against her leg, and her eyes began to burn intensely. Francesca couldn't tell if it was the onions or the fragments of her broken heart. Pouring the onions into the pot, she lit the stove and sat down at the table. Sabbath, slightly offended by the lack of attention, climbed onto the nearby chair, gazing questioningly at her owner. Francesca wearily smiled, petting the cat's head.

— You are constant, Sabbath. Always been a silent psychologist for me at the right moment.

A couple of days ago, he celebrated his birthday. For the first time in almost 30 years, without her. Was he happy? She hoped so. At least, it seemed that way when he answered her phone call with a barely discernible joy in his voice. Usually, he didn't like to throw parties in his honor, but this time, it was a mini-party with his favorite tracks from the 80s in the style of the series "Stranger Things" - or so she was told by mutual friends. That was so unlike him… why would he suddenly chase trends? "Better to understand the kids," Francesca answered her own question. She had often told him that he should get to know their children's interests better.

— While you're sell out stadiums, your kids need their father.

— Everything will be fine, Fran. This is my job, I have no other choice.

He always said that, and what was the result? While finding common ground with Castor was easy, as their son followed in his father's footsteps and played in a young band, with Kali, their internal connection worked - Marcela was the most difficult one. At first, he was skeptical of her boyfriend, and then he criticized her for a revealing photoshoot for some designer. As a result, Sella cut off communication with her father, adding another crack to their family.

Children… sometimes Francesca wondered what it would have been like if she hadn't met James on that tour in 1991. She was immensely proud of each of her children's endeavors, but lately, she blamed herself for choosing such a father for them. They could have been much happier without all the money in the world that James tried to earn, the most important thing was his presence. That would have been better. But… for the children, or for herself?

Francesca's gaze fell on the family photograph hanging on the wall. They were all together against the backdrop of wintry rocky mountains. Young Cali, Castor, and Marcella looked adorable with their cheeks reddened from the cold, and she and James looked happy and… right.

She embraced herself. No matter how much she blamed James for his absence, she knew what she was getting into when he asked her to date him. For a star of his magnitude, there was simply no time for family in his schedule. And she missed him so much: his warm hugs before each concert, his pleasant voice vibrating in his chest when she lay on him, his tender words towards her, the way he affectionately called her "Fran," even though she was annoyed by that form of her name… but who could resist his smile and charm? No wonder he captivated hundreds of girls. But she became special to him.

"I'm so lucky to have you, Fran… if it weren't for you, I don't know where I'd be now…"

But now he's probably spending time in the studio with his guys, discussing the latest news and sharing inside jokes that only they would understand. Francesca felt that over the years they lived together, she couldn't become as close to him as his bandmates were. And it angered her. In the last few months before the divorce, they often argued about this. Well, it was one of the key issues in their fights. James tried to smooth things over, taking the family on tour with him, but it hardly changed the situation. The kids had their studies; they couldn't be a burden to their father throughout his entire tour! And he understood that.

Francesca rested her head on her hands, gazing heavily at Sabbath. The cat seemed to understand all her troubles and peacefully dozed off, closing its eyes and calmly observing its owner. Or perhaps the problem wasn't with him at all? Maybe she demanded too much. He couldn't cancel a concert, knowing that the entire fee would go to support their family. At her request, he went through alcohol addiction treatment twice, which became humiliating for him. At her request, he gave so much advice to Marcela, which made her resent him.

— It's my fault, Sabbath…

Tears rolled down her face on their own. How could she blame him when everything she saw as a problem was initiated by her? Her heart tightened in her chest, and the bitter truth suffocated her. What would happen to her life now? But she had no choice. She needed to be strong. For herself. For the children.

She need to get him back.

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

H&R block can kiss my ass. Motherfuckers charged me more to file than I'm getting back in return, even though I specifically used their free file service. They "upgraded" me to the deluxe service without my consent, and there was no mechanism to remove it and go back. Customer service was a waste of time, over an hour on hold just to be given the runaround by some call center dipshit reading from a script about how there was nothing he could do. I put off filing until the 11th hour because I thought I could just fill out my forms on paper and mail them to the IRS, but the system is so needlessly labyrinthine with hundreds of pages of and/or/if/iff instructions and tables and forms referencing other forms that it said I owed $1500 because I missed some lines buried deep in the fucling nested hellscape. I had to bite the bullet and pay H&R for no fucking reason, and them they tries to scam me out of even more money by saying they'd take the $55 fee out of my return; my return is only $33, and they wanted to charge an additional $39 convenience fee, so I opted the fuck out of that! I also had to opt out of spruce, their proprietary banking bullshit. Getting them to send me a paper check was like pulling fucking teeth! There are too many hoops to jump through, and that's entirely by design, just so they can squeeze as much money from you as possible. It's a multibillion dollar industry of horseshit! I made MORE money last year than the year before, but the government charged me LESS in taxes. What fucking sense does that make? I got a $500 refund last year, so why would that go down to $33?!?

I'm so mad it almost makes me want to become a Libertarian.

[allthingsfook]

I was curious if I could get a ship! I work as a nurse (I really love helping people when they are at their most vulnerable) and am 5’5” have brown eyes, auburn hair and pale skin (I cannot tan at all, I just burn 🤣). I love reading especially Jane Austen. I love Star Wars and I love going to live music shows! I’m most excited to see Hozier this fall! I have a black kitty named Gibson and love fall and winter oddly enough. I also just love spending genuine time with friends whether that be at a bar or at home or somewhere else! Thank you :)

Heyyyy! I’m so sorry I haven’t gotten around to your ships! I have an inbox full that I’m hoping to rock out in the next few days.

I ship you with….

Jake ❤️

To start off, the most attractive thing he’s ever said is if he wasn’t in the music industry, he’d want to work in healthcare…. As a nurse I find that extremely attractive as I’m sure you do as well 😂 I feel like Jake has such an unwavering love of people and distinguished care for others well being. It’s no shock he’d see himself in a healthcare role. Wonder what he would specifically do…. You should let me know what you think!!

Your physical description reminds me of a character from the Victorian era, and to which Jake would constantly reference when complimenting you. How timeless and pure you are. Whether you believe so or not, Jake would always be around to offer his praises.

Over and over again I’ll sing how much of a bookworm Jake is! I can envision Jake retreating to a dim-lit, moody library hidden in the depths of his gorgeous home. Between the two of you, the room would be packed from floor to ceiling with literature. He’d spend hours obsessing over everything from history to lore to autobiographies. Time would often get away from him, and he’d emerge hours later…. Feeling stimulated and refreshed to flip the crisp pages through his fingers. Psssst!!!! Don’t even think about Jake finally breaking down and getting glasses for reading…. 🤭 I’ll torture you and include a visual at the end!!!

All the boys are such nerds, so there is no doubt in my mind Jake would love to sit down and binge Star Wars when he comes home. I can see you setting up a whole experience to make it something Jake thinks about for months afterwards. You’d lower the lights but program the mood lighting to toggle between blue and red. You’d make a nest of pillows and blankets on the couch… don’t forget your Yoda, Chewbacca, and Darth Vader plushies. You’d lay a whole spread of snacks out on the coffee table, Star Wars themed of course! You might even throw your hair in braided buns for him 😉

Compared to Sam and Danny, Jake’s lack of affection toward puppies makes me think he might be a cat guy. He’d obsess over Gibson! Obviously! It would melt your heart to come home to Jake kicking back, strumming his beloved Gibson while Gibson is stretched out at his side! Wouldn’t take long for them to become best buds, and not gunna lie you might be a little jealous of their bond!!!

If Jake were a season, he’d easily either be fall or winter. His whole persona and attitude is so mystic and sometimes cold. Looking back on all the high school photos of him, Jake seems to enjoy winter especially. I’m sure he would love to go on a little winter get away and go skiing, snowboarding or even take you to Frankenmuth for the whole holiday experience!

To round out this ship, all the boys are so dedicated to their friends and family. They would do anything to make them feel special and cherish their relationships. I think Jake, most of all, has a huge soft spot for people close to him. Just judging that on all the matching bracelets and necklaces he shares with his loved ones. I live for all the old photos of him and josh being front row at Kelly’s gigs. Settling down with you and creating a little family, I think he would be more apt to going home to visit mom and dad and his grandparents. Through him you would gain some very special people in your life too.

Well I really hope you enjoyed your ship as you hate to wait an eternity for it! Please let me know what you think! I always love to hear your reactions. It means the world 💕