#lets be ourselves without men

[lifelibertyjustice]

Really sad women don't embrace being women.

Womanhood doesn't mean makeup and high heels etc. Culture has made being a woman being uncomfortable. That doesn't mean you aren't proud of your own sex. Proud to have breasts and the curves you were born with. Women have to suppress themselves to be happy!?!!? Yes this is what the over sexualization of women has turned into. It's very sad. We should be comfortable in our own bodies. Breasts are not shameful. Reclaim. Don't let male gaze take the love of your own body away from you. Don't let them win.

I mean wear what you want. Don't listen to what culture says a woman is supposed to look like or wear or smell like. Still. Why be ashamed of your body! It's because men have ruined it by objectifying you! We have to take back what's ours.

I see a lot of ‘cis’ women say they wish they were androgynous in the way men were or they wish they were pretty in the way men were. This is your sign to go try to do that. You may find you enjoy being an androgynous woman. You may find you no longer identify as a woman. You may find you don’t like androgyny. You will not know until you try. Cut your hair if you’ve always wanted to but have been afraid to. Shop in the men’s section if you’ve been too nervous to. Wear clothing with an androgynous  silhouette. Experiment with binding, take baby steps with compression bras if you want. Wear unisex scents. Live life. Try things you want to try. A lot of cis women do not understand the joys of mens pants and mens deodorant. I think everyone should try both of those things.

[brightquang]

To Follow with Senator Elizabeth Warren opinion released that is why the US Congress and House Didn't enforce their super Constitution who should prosecute them? In fact, the US Senator Wayne Morse and his Committee Foreign Affairs has violated the First, Sixteenth, Third, and Fourteenth Amendments of the US Constitution. Let them freely invade the sovereignty of Vietnam during the Vietnamese people had not had animosity with the American people and to terrorize to the US That is why the US Congress freely enacted the law to seize, assassinate, and sell Vietnam to socialism without having had any courts prosecute the Congress and American leaders' belligerent men. After the US was freely making the wind and rain in Vietnam, the US has self- cut and ran out of Vietnam. The US Congress did not carry out 8 US Code 1157: Annual Admission of refugees and admission of emergency, but Senator Joe Biden declared and said, " America has no obligation with Vietnamese people and he will not vote any a penny to evacuate them ( South Armed Forces) when Generation Westmoreland said, " On behalf of the US Army, I apologize to the South Vietnamese Army Veterans because we have abandoned you guys and Secretary of State Kissinger declared, " Vietnam failures we did to ourselves." which is why the great powerful American Congress did not compensate any pennies to us when the US Congress levied income taxes on the Vietnamese people and the Vietnam Armed Forces by  May 3, 1967 18 UST 546; TIAS 6262;685 UNTS 207. What is the US expressing for equal justice? Bright Quang

[blessedmoonsoul]

being black and being african is so....🙃

[stillnaomi]

during WW1, the British government was so scared of socialism that it decided to build 500,000 spacious and good quality homes for the higher strata of blue collar workers, in order to avert any chance of revolution. this would give jobs to many of the demobilised troops and would stop a large section of the proletariat agitating about their living conditions. previously, the government had steadfastly refused to interfere in the freedom of the housing market, despite large sections of the population living in slum housing

as Major Astor of the Local Government Board told parliament during a debate on the scheme:

“When we talk of expense and cost let us realise that everything is comparative, and let us measure the cost of our housing proposals by the cost of Bolshevism to the country and the cost of revolution. The money we propose to spend on housing is an insurance against Bolshevism and revolution. What is the cost to the country of industrial unrest and strikes? You have only to realise the conditions under which many men and women live to realise that unrest is fully justified.”

believe it or not, revolution was seen as a serious threat. this is how the minutes record the PM, David Lloyd George, speaking in a Cabinet meeting on March 3rd 1919:

“In Europe we were now faced with very serious conditions. Russia had gone almost completely over to Bolshevism, and we had consoled ourselves with the thought that they were only a half-civilised race; but now even in Germany, whose people were without exception the best educated in Europe, prospects are very black.

“Bavaria was already in chaos, and the same fate might await Prussia. Spain seemed to be on the edge of upheaval. In a short time we might have three-quarters of Europe converted to Bolshevism. None would be left but France and Great Britain.

“He believed that Great Britain would hold out, but only if the people were given a sense of confidence—only if they were made to believe that things were being done for them. We had promised them reforms time and again, but little had been done. We must give them the conviction this time that we meant it, and we must give them that conviction quickly.”

this is what communists mean when we say that the capitalist state only gives out concessions when its power is under threat

read more about the Homes Fit for Heroes initiative and its politics

[genderqueerdykes]

i want folks to understand that painting trans men & mascs as inherently violent and dangerous is done so that we are too scared to take the space & resources we need by force because if we do we'll be seen as predatory and abusive and an "i told you so" situation. this is intentionally done so we stay on the outskirts of the queer community if we get involved at all whatsoever

if you feel this is happening to you, you're not alone. this is done on purpose. i will not let myself be silenced, and i will advocate for you if i must. we deserve to be able to make space for ourselves without opposition. if there were no opposition, we wouldn't have to fight and be seen as violent to begin with.

[satorusugurugurl]

Ermmm. Speaking from my current experience. How would jjk boys (gojo geto nanami toji and choso) react to after a *session* finding out reader didn’t finish bc they hear her trying to use her toys to get off.

Lmao my bf is mad and went to sleep but I’m like … there could be more done 😆

JJK Men: You Didn’t Finish? Let Me Help You.

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Toji, Kamo Choso, FAB!Reader

Warnings: smut, sex toys, language, dirty talk, smutty smut!

Word Count: 7,477

A/N: This literally took a life of its own! Love it! It was super fun!! Thank you Nonnie!! (hope you BF wasn't that mad, but really there could have been lots more fun to be had! But I feel like we've all been there!) 💚

Gojo Satoru:

You loved it when Gojo came home after a long mission. He was usually feral, throwing open the door, all but tackling you as he went to unbutton your pants. When he came home like this, he needed to fuck in the nastiest of ways. Not that you’d complain you were usually as pent up as he was.

This time, well, Gojo was even more pent-up than usual. He caught you in the laundry room, bending you over the dryer. He slid your leggings and panties down before sliding his cock over your pussy, teasing your entrance, rubbing his tip against your clit.

All you needed was a few kisses on your neck his deep voice in your ear, and you were wet and ready for him. He fucked you fast, deep, and hard. It felt so good, his cock slamming into your g-spot, as the vibrations from the running dry stimulated your clit. This was new and exciting. To be wanted this bad, for him to fuck you right where he found you, you loved it!

Your boyfriend loved it just as much as you because his cock throbbed hard inside of you right when you were beginning the climb toward your release. You felt his cum spurting inside of you as he whined, his pace slowing down, slowly fucked his cum inside of you. Satoru groaned slowly, pulling out of you, spreading your cheeks, watching his cum leaking out of your pretty cunt.

“Fuuuck, I needed that.” You were panting, gripping the sides of the dryer, waiting for him to do something, anything to make you cum. “Mmm.” To your utter disappointment, Satoru smacked your ass and started walking out. “I'm going to shower; when I'm done, let's order dinner. I'm beat.”

For a moment, you thought he was fucking with you. That he just wanted you to complain about not cumming, to beg for it. But looking over your shoulder at him, you saw how tired he was. He had pulled his blindfold down, pooling around his neck, allowing you to see the dark circles under his eyes. The exhaustion on his face wasn't from sex. It was from the mission.

How could you bother him to help get you off? You were fully capable of taking care of yourself. You just grinned, pulling your leggings off and tossing them into the washer. “I like the sound of that. Go ahead and wash up; I need to finish this.” And yourself. “Then we��ll order food.” Without any questions, Gojo stripped out of his clothes, tossing it in with yours.

“Sounds like we got ourselves a stay-in date.” Your boyfriend's lips pressed firmly against your cheek. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Toru.”

The second you heard him head into the bathroom, shutting the door, you hurried. He took about a five to ten-minute shower. So that gave you more than enough time to cum. Opening the nightstand drawer, you pulled out your wand vibrator before lying in bed, your eyes darting toward the bathroom door.

Wasting no time, you pressed the wand over your clit, turning it on its highest setting. Your hips jerked forward as a whine passed through your lips. Fuck you were still worked up, pussy clenching, thinking about how Satoru fucked you just minutes before. That was the perfect thought to lose yourself in as your clit was twitching under the pleasant vibrations.

God, if he weren’t so tired, you would have begged him for more. You take you on the dryer, the floor, fuck even the wall. You missed him; god, you missed the soft tufts of his white hair, the smell of fresh sheets and musk. The need to have him bullying his cock inside of you was so strong it had you dipping your hands between your legs. Fingers pushing through your tight entrance, attempting to make you feel as good as Satoru did.

They were nothing compared to Satoru. His fingers reached places you never could. While it wasn’t what you wanted right now, that being your boyfriend's fat cock, it would suffice. You cried out softly as you curled your fingers up, just barely grazing your g-spot.

“Mmnh fuck, oooh fuck.” You could feel yourself climbing towards your orgasm. “T-Toru, yes, yes~.”

Just when you were about to cum, the door to the bathroom flung open. Satoru stood there, leaning against the door frame as you threw your vibrator to the side of the bed. What you failed to do was take your fingers out of your cunt just as fast.

“S-Satoru!”

He took in your form, shaking his head with a sigh. “Most people would wait for the shower to start running before they start masturbating, right after their boyfriend fucked them.” He strode forward, his throbbing dick standing at attention. “But my sweet, not so innocent girl. She starts fucking herself when I’m in the other room.” He walked around the bed, picking up your still buzzing vibrator. “Was one time not enough for you?” Gojo got on the bed, cerulean eyes burning with furious lust.

“I-I well,” words evaded you, “I uhm—“

“Tsk,” he crawled on top of you, pressing the vibrator against your clit. You arched your back off the bed, whimpering. “Such a little slut, trying to make yourself cum right after I fucked you. Well, go on, do it, little slut.”Satoru pressed the vibrator harder against your clit. “Cum again, then maybe I’ll make you cum a third, fourth, maybe even a fifth time. Seeing that you want to cum so bad after I just made you.”

You tried pulling away, but Satoru grabbed your hip with his free hand, holding you in place. “I-I didn’t!”

“Oh, don’t try to lie to me; I caught you red-handed.” The hand you had been fingering yourself with was snatched. “Look at that, still wet and slick with both our cum.” Your boyfriend took your cum slick fingers in his mouth, sucking on them while his eyes burned holes into your skin.

“Y-Your cum.” Satoru stopped sucking, glancing down at your flushed face. “I-I didn’t finish.”

From the expression on his face, your poor boyfriend went through the five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance. His mouth opened and shut like a fish before he pulled the vibrator away.

“You didn’t cum?!” You shook your head. “Why didn’t you say something?!” Being questioned like this, right after he caught you beating off, wasn’t the conversation you wanted to have. Groaning softly, you sat up, avoiding his gaze.

“You’re exhausted, and I didn’t want to bother you with something I can handle alone.”

“You seriously think me getting you off is a bother?” He touched your shoulders, shoving you back against the bed. “Sweetheart, I get off on making you cum.”

“T-Toru, I-I can do it. You should re-A-Ahh!” Satoru’s cock is pushing it’s way forcefully inside your cunt. “Oooh, of fuck!”

His lips slammed against yours as he pushed the vibrator back against your throbbing clit. “Baby~ you feel so good~ fuck, your pussy is so fuckin’ tight. Ah~! Ah~ fuck~ does that feel good baby?” Stars, you saw stars as he pulled out, stopping just before the tip slipped out before he slammed back into you harder.

“Oh, my fuck!!” You cried out as he repeated his pace, fucking you, pressing the vibrator firmly against you. “O-Oh god, feels s-so good when you slide inside!”

Satoru chuckled with a groan. “Oh, I know it does~” His hot breath fanned over your lips, “I felt that tight cunt clamp down each time I thrust.” You dug your nails into his shoulders.

God, the smell of him washes over you as he kisses and sucks on your neck. Teeth grazing the overly sensitive skin as you wrap your leg around him, pushing him deeper inside of your aching pussy. You were losing control over yourself, and Satoru wasn’t doing any better. His cock was already throbbing; his eyes screwed tight as he pushed himself further into the mattress, deeper inside of you.

Hearing you scream, feeling the vibrations while he fucked you, your soaking walls that were eagerly milking him, had him feeling like he was eighteen again. Satoru never got over how good your gummy walls felt. How you pussy didn’t want him to leave, how it tried to pull him back in. Having sex with you was something that constantly changed and grew into something more. Something more profound.

“Gah—! Fuck!” Satoru cried out against your kiss-swollen lips. “You’re so close, you’re twitching.” Your blubbering whines confirmed what he knew. “That’s right, cum for me~ cum all over this fat fucking cock.”

“C-cumming ah~ ah~ Satoru!!” With his hips angled, hitting your sweet spot with every brutal thrust, you clamped down on him. But it was the sweet buzzing of your vibrator in time with his harsh pace that had you gushing.

Satoru watched the stream of clear liquid squirt out of you. Coating the v-line and happy tail of his crotch, soaking the bed underneath you. Who wouldn’t have been cumming with you after that sight? Satoru stilled, hands digging harshly into your hips, holding you still as his cum filled you. He stayed like that for a long moment. Buried deep inside of you before he collapsed, groaning against your collarbone.

You gently scratched his scalp with your nails, breathing heavily as you came down from your high. “Fuck, I needed that so bad, thank you.” You watched as Satoru lazily lifted his head, hazy eyes watching you.

“Mm, anythin’ for you.”

The two of you drifted to sleep like that. Any thoughts revolving around showering or dinner were placed on the back burner. The most important thing was that you were finally together again.

Geto Suguru:

“Ah~ nngh, good~ feels good~” You cried out softly as Suguru lazily fucked you. “K-Keep going~”

The bed gently groaned under Suguru’s sleepy thrusts. His arms were wrapped around you, large hands grabbing your breasts. They massaged the soft flesh, groping them, teasing your nipples as he licked and kissed the side of your neck. Mornings where he woke up after having the nastiest dream sex with you, were his favorite kind of sexy mornings.

The morning when you both were stirring, only focusing on the raw instinctual need to cum. These were the times when he didn’t need to focus on the pace or the dirty words he would whisper in your ear. All the two of you could focus on was the sweet pleasure and warmth of each other's bodies.

Suguru cried out against your skin, his cock throbbing deep inside of you. The things you were doing to him in his dream, sucking his cock, riding his face, letting him fuck you on a towel on a faraway beach, it was so good. Too good. When he first slid inside of you, he was dangerously close to the edge. His sexy dream had nearly become a wet dream before he woke up. So it came as no surprise to him that he just needed to feel you, the real you, to reach that sweet climax.

You listened as he huffed and grunted, his hips moving just a bit faster as you felt the warmth of his cum filling you. His load was thick, seeping out of you, sliding down the length of his cock, pooling at the base. Feeling him fill you up this good at six thirty in the morning was the equivalent of a hot shower or a good workout at the gym. You were ready for round two.

Suguru, however, was ready to drift back to sleep. His breathing went from shallow, uneven gasps to deeper and calmer breaths. This wasn’t happening, right? There was no way your husband just lazily fucked you as a form of foreplay just to fall asleep. Your worst fears became a reality as he snored softly into the crook of your neck.

Your pussy clenched in sorrow as his cock remained buried inside of you. If he were anyone else, you would have woken him up, urging him to finish what he had started. Unfortunately for you, Geto Suguru was a deep sleeper. The only thing that would wake him up was either a blood-curdling scream from you or an earthquake. Meaning you were on your own for now. Horny, sleepy, and desperate to cum, and drifted back to sleep in his strong arms.

Luckily, your vibrator was just an arm's length away, resting in the top drawer of your nightstand. With careful and calculated movements, you freed one arm from Suguru’s koala bear grasp and grabbed your best friend. Your clit sucking toy was your favorite toy Suguru bought for you. He knew how much you loved him going down on you, so he bought you the highest-rated toy that would at least come close to mimicking his talented lips and tongue.

The toy was great; you loved using it when your fiance was at work or on a mission. Nothing would ever be able to replace him. Right now, seeing as your husband was out of commission, this toy would have to suffice.

You slid the toy under your shorts, pressing the small opening around your clit before turning it on to the lowest setting. The pulsating hum was low but perfect enough that it had you whining. You were still incredibly turned on from your lazy sex session. Having been so close to release, you knew this setting (or two or three higher) would be all that you needed to cum, seeing as Suguru’s cock was still buried inside of you, his thick load keeping you wet enough.

Your hips jerked, walls clenching around Suguru as your hand came up, clamping firmly over your mouth with a groan. Your pussy twitched As your toes curled; it felt so good. The flutter sensation beginning to build up in your lower stomach had your blood running hot. What would make this even better was if Suguru was up, fucking you with hard and shallow thrusts. Hitting your g-spot, whispering in your ear, telling you to cum on him.

The temptation to push yourself back against him was strong. His thick, girthy cock, was perfect in every way, shape and form. The tip was pressed right against your sweet spot, making you moan louder into your hand. You didn’t want to wake him up; he always worked hard, taking good care of you—the moments when he. Getting to unwind and relax was precious to both of you.

While you were being courteous regarding the volume of your moans. Your pussy was not as well-behaved as the rest of you. She clamped, twitched, and hugged Suguru’s cock. The warm pulsing twitches had Suguru stirring, his eyes slowly opening as his cock jerked inside of you, as he felt the low buzzing sensation of the toy you were using against yourself.

His hand slowly slid over your conjoined bodies, his larger hand wrapping around yours, pressing the toy harder against your throbbing clit. “A-Ah, Sugu~” He hummed, kissing and sucking on your neck. “I-I’m sorry. I d-didn’t mean to wake you.” In reality, you weren’t as sorry as you claimed to be.

”Mmm,” Suguru exhaled heavily through his nose, “didn't get enough?”

You shook your head, your hips full back into him, pushing his cock further inside of you. “No, baby, I didn’t cum.” Suguru’s eyebrows furrowed together as you humped his cock gently. “Just give me a few minutes, please; I’m almost there.” Your husband groaned, lifting your leg and draping it over his hip. “Sugu, what—nngh, fuck.” Your toy was tossed to the side, Suguru’s fingers replacing it.

”My princess just told me she didn’t cum.” His voice cracked as he rocked gently into you, his fingers rubbing circles around your clit. “What sort of husband would I be if I made her get off alone.” Teeth dug into your neck before his tongue slid over the stinging mark. “Let me give you a hand.”

Your eyes were rolling into the back of your head as Suguru hit your cervix with every thrust. He was so fucking deep; you could feel every thick inch of him spreading you open. His dark eyes peered down, watching his hand working at your clit. He could hear how wet you were, the squelching sounds egging him on.

“Ah~ fuck Sugu~ you know me so well.” you tilt your head back, eyes shutting, losing yourself in the please. “Y-You always hit my g-spot, fuck!”

Your husband cooed, rubbing your clit faster. “Yeah~ you’re going to cum aren’t you~? You keep getting wetter with every thrust, baby.”

“Y-Yeah, fuck yes! Please~ please, Sugu~!”

The rich smell of Suguru’s expensive shampoo wafted over you; his hair fell over your shoulder as he pressed his lips against yours. You reached a hand up, cupping his cheek, moaning as he nipped at your bottom lip, his tongue darting out, tracing over the spot before sliding his tongue into your mouth as he fucked into you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

You didn't even have a chance to warn him that you were cumming. You just cried out into his mouth as he massaged your tongue with his own. As the rolling waves of pleasure rocked through you, Suguru’s pace faltered, becoming messy sloppily as his ball tightened. Spurts of warm cum filled your aching hole, filling you up to the brim.

“Mmm,” Suguru pulled his mouth away from yours, spit connecting your tongues, “does my needy girl feel better~?”

“Mhmm~” you hummed happily, snuggling back against him. “Felt good.”

All your husband did was wrap his arms tighter around you. He pressed a kiss against your chin before he buried his face in the crook of his neck. Out of all the places he’d seen and been, your king-sized bed, with you in his arms, was his favorite place in the world.

Nanami Kento:

Wet was a bit of an understatement. You were soaking wet when Nanami slammed you up against the door of your apartment. You both were buzzed from the bottle of wine you shared at dinner. The sweet liquid had you rubbing Nanami’s thigh, whispering obscene things in his ear, and had led to him pulling your lace panties to the side as he lifted you, your legs wrapped around his waist.

“You've been such a bad girl.” You groaned over, panting in pure lustful desire as you listened to his buckle being undone.

“Hurry up.” You begged, only to receive a smack on the side of your ass. “Eep!”

“You are in no place to be making any demands.” His words were slightly slurred before he rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit. “Teasing my cock, whispering those lewd words in my ear.”

The wine had given you liquid courage; you grabbed a handful of blonde hair, tugging it back. “Then take what you want~” The moment those words left your mouth, Nanami was fucking into you.

His thrusts were sloppy, messy, and full of pure need. The wine had him lost in the raw feeling of your tight cunt, the way your walls hugged his cock. Your pussy was so wet, warm, and tight. Nanami whimpered fucking you harder and slamming you against the door.

“Y-Yes! Oh fuck yes! Keeento~!!”

“Oh fuck love, fuck you’re s-so t-tig-gaaahk!”

The familiar sensation of cum filling you drew you out of the wildly erotic moment. Both you and Nanami were stiff. Your sweet, loving boyfriend's face flushed dark red, his eyebrows pinched in tipsy confusion.

“K-Ken? Did you just?”

“I-I—“ he honestly wasn’t sure, but he confirmed his fears as he pulled out. His cock was coated in white cum, the tip dribbling out more as it sadly softened. “F-Fuck, sweetie, I’m sorry.”

When he looked up expecting to be met with an expression of disappointment, he was instead met with your gentle smile as he put you down. “It’s okay; I was teasing you the whole way home.” While you attempted to comfort him, Nanami still felt a twinge of shame.

“I’m sorry.”

“Ken, you’re fine.” Fine was not the way he would describe the way he felt. But you were persistent. “Do you wanna lay down?”

Your boyfriend nodded, sulking towards your room with his head hanging low. “If laying down means I can forget about this whole ordeal, then yes.” He unbuttoned his shirt before lying on his back, watching you closely. “That’s never happened to me before.” A smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth as you removed your jewelry.

”I made the Kento Nanami experience pre-mature ejaculation for the first time. I’m so honored.”

“Please don’t say it like that.”

“Right, sorry, sorry.” Nanami watched as your hips swayed as you approached his side of the bed.

“Seriously, don’t feel too bad about it. I could easily take care of myself if I wanted to. Do you need anything? Like water?” He shook his head, his eyes slowly shutting as he drifted in and out of the waves of his afterglow. “Alright, I’ll be right back.”

Just as Nanami turned to lay on his side, you reached into the sock drawer of your dresser. Hidden, there was your g-spot toy. You glanced back at the sleepy Nanami before sighing as you tip-toed into the living room, cracking the door shut.

You were still worked up, wet, and horny from the combination of wine and teasing touches on the way home. You didn’t mind that Nanami had finished first, but you couldn’t ignore the aching between your legs. You needed to take care of that ache, or you wouldn’t be able to sleep at all.

As you lay on the couch, your mind drifted to Nanami. How his large hands gripped your thigh in the car, how his ankle brushed yours at the restaurant. You whined, imagining his cock slipping inside of you as you pushed the toy into your wet pussy. His cock was so girthy and fat it stuffed you; this toy was nothing compared to him. But it would get the job done.

You twisted the end of the toy, turning the vibrations on; the sweet lazing immediately stimulated your sweet spot, making you arch. Fuck it felt good, especially when you began thrusting it in and out of your tight heat. You were so tight and needy, longing for an orgasm that would tide you over until Nanami was able to fuck the life out of you.

God, you wanted him; you wanted him so bad. The need for his cock to plunge in and out of you. To have him tugging and pulling on your hair, to choke you. The raw desire for him had your moans increasing in volume. Maybe it was the wine or the horny need that had you gasping as if your boyfriend wasn’t in the other room.

Oh, and Nanami heard. How could he not listen to you whimpering and crying out his name? The buzzing from your toy had his cock throbbing back to life. He couldn’t just let you handle this on your own. His legs, while still shaky, moved with a purpose. He flung open the bedroom door and stormed off to the living room, where the sight of you had his pace faltering.

Your legs were spread, the vibrant pink vibrator was moving in and out of you, coated in a milk substance of his cum and your slick. The same sticky substance coated the inside of your supple thighs, making you look even more erotic. Seeing you in such a vulgar scene had Nanami stripping out of his clothes.

“Fuuuck~ fuck yes~ K-Kento~!” Your head was tilted back, eyes shut as you imagined Nanami inside you. His lips and teeth dug into your skin. “Ahh fuck~!”

“You weren’t kidding when you said you could care for yourself.” The deep voice of your boyfriend was the only warning you got before the toy was yanked out of you and clattered to the floor.

Your eyes went wide as the toy was replaced with the fat girthy cock you had been imagining. “Haaah!” A breathless yelp escaped you as you met Nanami’s honey-brown eyes. “K-Kento!” He groaned, his cock slowly slipping in and out of you. “Fuck~!” He smirked, kissing your neck.

“Mhmm lover, your pussy is hugging me. Were you that desperate for my cock?” All you managed to do was cry out as you nodded. “Such a desperate girl~ but that toy is nothing compared to me, right?”

“N-No, it’s not!” You whined, gripping his shoulders as the couch creaked under his thrusts. “N-Nothing c-compared to you, Kento!”

Skin slapped against the skin, Nanami groaned, dropping his head onto your shoulder. “Fuck~ fuck, your pussy feels so good~ it’s so wet, love, so fucking wet~” Nanami kissed and sucked onto your shoulder, biting the skin as hard as he could, drawing out a pleasurable gasp from you. “G-gonna make you cum this time.” His words were mumbled as he bit into another part of your skin. “M-make up for last time.” your toes began to curl as Nanami reached down, rubbing your clit in fast circles.

“Y-You don’t have to make up for last time—“ Nanami’s cock throbbed, rubbing against your g-spot. That, in time, with his thumb on your clit had the coil tightening in your abdomen. “I-I’m close, oh god, I’m close!” Your legs began violently shaking as your pussy tightened, heat rushing through you. “K-Kento! Keeento!!”

You came hard, so incredibly hard a scream ripped through your throat as tears filled your eyes. Nanami’s cock twitched, his hips stilling as your pussy convulsed around him, drawing out a second orgasm from him as you rode the waves of yours. His hips jerked, pussy hi load intense of you, working the both of you down from your highs. It was until beads of sweat ran down his chilled ab’s that he finally came to a stop.

His breath was hot against your shoulder as you ran your fingers through his hair. He slowly pulled away, smiling ever so sweetly at you. “Fuck I needed that.” The sheer relief and exhaustion in your tone had Kento grinning, lifting you, and carrying you to the bedroom.

“Well, I hope you’re ready for more. Because I’m ready for round three.”

Toji Fushiguro:

You were minding your own business scrolling through your phone when your boyfriend came into the room. He said nothing; he only grabbed your pajama pants and yank them off. You giggled in between moans as rubbed your clit before sliding his spit-coated cock inside of you.

“Ah, ~ rough day at w-work?” You gasped out, throwing your head back against the pillows as Toji grunted in response. “Oh, I’m sorry, baby.” The words held all the truth; you did feel bad that he had a rough day. You also loved it, though. Days like these, when he came home all pent up and frustrated, were the days he fucked the breath out of you.

He got to work off pent-up frustration while you got to get fucked into the mattress. It was truly a win-win for the two of you.

”Fuck, fuck yeah,”. Toji sighed, kissing the leg that was draped over your shoulder. “I missed your fucking pussy all day.” His thick, strong fingers dug into your other leg that was wrapped over his hip. “Kept dreaming about filling it up, painting the insides white. Nnngh, you’re such a fucking good little slut for me.”

You hummed drunkenly in response, back arching as you tried to keep up with his fast-paced thrusts. “Mhmm, I’m glad I could be a good dream for you, Toji.” Cock throbbing inside of you, Toji let out a needy growl, bucking his hips faster, cock hitting every sweet spot buried deep inside of your cunt.

“Y-Yeah, you’re the best dream a guy could ever have.” Those sweet words had you reaching your hand down, rubbing your clit as he fucked you deeper, faster. “That’s it, look at my slutty little girlfriend. Making herself cum all over my cock.”

“C-Close, Toji! P-Please!”

“M-Me too~! Me too~!”

Toji sunk his teeth into the side of your leg as his thrusts lost all sense of rhythm as he began cumming inside of you, fucking himself through his orgasm. All while you tried to follow up, rubbing your clit faster, bucking your hips up against him. But as the sensations of hot cum filled you, your stomach was filled with disappointment as your orgasm evaded you. Toji grunted, resting his head against you, his eyes shut tight as he felt your walls twitch.

You reached up, stroking his head, humming as he slowly sat up. He liked fucked out of his mind as he licked at his lips. But behind that fucked out look, you could swear there was desire. A desire for more, to keep going until the two of you couldn’t breathe. A desire that you might just be able to reach that orgasm you had failed to grasp moments before.

Toji leaned down, kissing you deeply, his cock twitching deep inside of you. You were just about to wrap your legs around his hips, to pull him in deeper, to encourage him to keep fucking into you, when his phone rang. He glowered at it, sitting on the nightstand. You turned his head to focus on you instead, your hands trailing up his chest, your thumbs brushing over his nipples. But his damn phone kept ringing. Whoever was calling was desperate to get a hold of him.

Toji snarled, snatching the phone off the nightstand and answering it. “I’m in the middle of something pretty fuckin’ important. What?!” The other voice on the line sounded much like Shiu’s shot back a shout. Toji’s eyes went wide, taking in the words before he smirked. You knew that expression.

“Paid up already? Ha, awesome, cool, yeah, I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“What was that about?” You asked as Toji slipped out of you. “What happened?”

Toji slipped his half-hard cock back into his pants. “Client already has money for a job I just did. Six figures, baby. They want to take me and Shiu to dinner.” Wait? Seriously, he was leaving?!

“B-But!”

“It should be fast. I’ll be back before you know it.” Toji pressed a kiss to your temple. “Then we’ll have round two.”

“But—“ You watched in despair and anger as Toji headed out of the apartment, shutting the door. “I didn’t finish.” You pouted, plopping back down on the bed.

Toji must have been out of it to have not realized that. Plus, he just left! But he was bringing home the big bucks so you couldn’t complain. There was always tonight; maybe he’d let you sit on his face as an apology once you told him. The aching pulse between your legs, however, wanted to be satisfied now. It couldn't wait for god knows how long Toji would be out.

So, without any hesitation, you reached under your bed, pulling out your container of sex toys. You pulled out your vibrating dildo and a bottle of lube before sitting up at the head of the bed. Wasting no time, you lubbed the clean toy before slowly working it into yourself with a harp inhale. It felt good, not as good as Toji, but it would get the job done.

Your pace was fast and hard; you attempted to match Toji’s. But that was humanly impossible. The man fucked like a god, nearly sending you to the afterlife with each orgasm. So you managed to do the best you could, which didn’t feel bad at all. Your pace had your eyes rolling back as you curved the toy, rubbing it against your g-spot before you turned it on.

The vibrations were strong. So strong it sent you to your own personal heaven of pleasure. You propped your legs up, spreading them wide as your thrusts increased in speed, while your free hand gripped the sheets, tugging at them gently. The pleasure was so overwhelming, so stifling, that you never heard the apartment door open. You were a moaning mess, and that’s what Toji heard as he looked around for his phone.

He’d stopped, eyes drifting towards the room as the wet squelching and buzzing sounds flooded the apartment. Following the noise, he peeked into the bedroom, finding you fucking yourself with a dildo. Your pussy was hugging it just like it had done to his dick. And you looked like you were enjoying it, but not as much as you wanted his dick.

Toji entered the room, taking full advantage of you and rolling your eyes back. He hummed, crossing his arms over his chest as he got a heater view of you pathetically trying to fuck yourself, into an orgasm. His poor, sweet girl. It would just be cruel to continue to watch.

Your eyes jolted open as a large hand swatted yours away, gripping the toy that was buried in your cunt, while the other hand pushed your legs

Further apart. “T-Toji!” You yelled out as he began fucking the toy into you with a sadistic smirk.

“Looks like you needed a hand.” His deep voice had you clenching around the toy with a whine of our need. “Me makin’ ya’ cum once wasn’t enough, huh? I was gone for five minutes. Missed me that much.” He jabbed the toy against your spot with ever-calculated thrusts.

“Oooh! Oooh fuck oh my goo-ah ah!” You screamed, your hand gripping the sheets tightened while the other tangled in black strands of hair. “Ah~! Agggh! I -I didn’t cum! I-I couldn’t w-wai-fuck! Wait for tonight!”

Toji’s pace didn’t falter, but his eyes widened for a second. “Well, ya’ should’ve said something, honey. I would have made you cum.” He learned over your leg. “I can’t fuck you, but I’ll at least make you cum for now.” He kept fucking the dildo inside of you as he knelt over you, flicking his tongue over your clit.

“Gahhhk!” You screamed as Toji chuckled over your clit with a hum. “T-Toji! T-Toji!!” You arched your back as your mouth fell open into an ‘O’ shape as your toys curled. “D-Don’t stop! P-please, don’t stop!”

Toji was nowhere close to stopping, not when you were so close. He healed his scarred lip over your throbbing clit, sucking, flicking, and nibbling at the sensitive bundle of nerves. He drew you closer and closer to the edge, and it was him rubbing your g-apt with the vibrating tip that was your undoing. You screamed out loud, bucking your hips into his face as you squirted a clear stream of liquid all over his chin.

You were crying at the intensity of the orgasm as Toji gently worked you down. He glanced over you as his tongue dared over his lips, licking your juices off with a smirk. Your body trembled and shook how you gasped madly for air. It was a sight he loved to see.

“There ya’ go.” He said, pulling the toy out and placing it on the nightstand. “I’ll be home in a little bit.” You grumbled in response, struggling to keep your eyes open as Toji pulled a blanket over your half-naked body. “Get some sleep.” He kissed your forehead, grabbing his phone off the bed. “Because you’re gonna need all the rest you can get for what I have planned for you tonight.”

Choso Kamo:

Two weeks you had been on a mission for two long weeks. Which meant you had been away from your sweet loving boyfriend and his long cock for two weeks. So, of course, the second you got home, you begged for him to fuck you. He eagerly agreed, fucking you on the floor of the entryway. The two of you hadn’t even passed there before you were ripping each other's clothes off.

“A-Ah! C-Choso!” You cried out as he slammed his fist on the wooden floor, fucking you deeper. “Ahh!” His brutal thrusts drew out a scream from you as his other hand palmed your breasts.

“Missed you, god I missed you so much.” He mumbled over your collarbone, sucking and licking your skin. “I missed you so much, babe.”

“C-Cho!”

He gritted his teeth as you clenched down on him. “Oh~ good god, I-I edged myself a-all week waiting for this.”

Hearing him say that had your stomach and pussy fluttering. It had just been a suggestion in passing. You mentioned to Choso that edging yourselves when you were separated would be fun. You, of course, had done it, working yourself to the edge before stopping your movements. You had no idea Choso would be doing the same thing.

It made your heart soar as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. God, what did you do to deserve such a sweet and sexy man in your life?! Your walls fluttered around him, and Choso shut his eyes tight at the overwhelming pleasure.

Something you failed to mention to him was that edging would make him overly sensitive. More so than usual. His nails dug into the wood, scrapping at it as you whined and whimpered into the crook of his neck. Everything was too much to handle, too much to bear. Feeling your skin against his, hearing your cries of pleasure, your scent, all of it was way too much. He had been doomed from the moment you kissed him when you got home.

Choso pulled back just enough that he was able to put into your neck as his cock throbbed, cum spilling inside of you. His sudden bite as his cum filling you had you clenching against him, so hard Choso thought you had come with him. A satisfied groan sounded from your neck as he gently bucked into you, riding out your (his orgasm).

You both lay there on the floor of the entryway, panting heavily. Choso’s teeth left your skin, and he kissed it gently before looking into your eyes. You were smiling, gently reaching out, pushing his bangs out of his face as he slowly pulled out of you. He cleared his throat, and he helped you stand, sighing as the dropping adrenaline had him feeling drowsy.

“I-I didn’t think I’d cum that fast.” He said in a timid tone as you giggled. “B-But you were right. It did feel good, like a hundred orgasms in one.”

“Yeah, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Choso nodded sleepily as he wrapped his arms around you. “Welcome home, baby.” You could feel his muscles relax as he held you in his arms. He sounded like he was exhausted from the sound of his voice.

“Glad to be back.” You whispered as the two of you headed into the bedroom. Choso collapsed onto the mattress, holding his arms out for you to join him, but you shook your head, holding up your duffle bag. “I need to unpack and shower real quick. I’ll join you in a bit.”

Choso gave you a sleepy nod before shutting his eyes. You returned his smile, heading into the bathroom and closing the door with a heavy sigh. You were still on the edge, not having reached that sweet, blissful release you’d been working yourself up to for the last couple of weeks. There was always tomorrow. Once you both slept well, you held out for two weeks; what would another eight hours do?

As you started the shower and began unpacking your toiletry bag, your thoughts were blank for the most part. Your brain was moving on autopilot mode. Put away your travel-sized bottles, your hair brush, and skincare products. It wasn’t until you reached the bottom of the bag that you snapped out of the trance you had found yourself in. At the bottom was your bullet vibrator, sealed in its velvet travel bag with the toy cleaner.

You pulled out the clean toy, eyeing it in your palm before your eyes darted towards the door. One orgasm wouldn’t hurt, would it? Choso was so tired he might be sleeping. You stared at your reflection before finally carving in. If you were quiet enough, Choso never needed to know that you hadn’t finished, then tomorrow it would be like nothing happened.

You wasted no time sliding the vibrator down between your legs. You turned it on low speed with the little remote. It buzzed to life, bouncing off the walls as you whimpered softly. The vibrations were so good and vital that you knew it wasn’t going to take very long for you to cum. You chewed on your bottom lip, losing yourself in the pleasurable sensations, unaware that Choso was standing just outside the door, staring at it in confusion.

Your sweet boyfriend fully intended to nap while waiting for you to unpack. But the moment he heard the shower start and your lovely, soft humming, he stood up. Why would he stay in bed when he would be showering with you? Feeling your smooth, silky skin under his hands as he lathered you with soap and massaged tension out of your muscles.

Naps could wait; shower sessions were more important than sleep.

So, of course, as he stood in front of the bathroom door naked, listening to the buzzy hum of a sex toy, he was confused. Like why would you be using a toy right after the two of you just made love? And why would you be doing it without him helping you out? He loved making you cum, whether it be from his tongue, finger, dick, or the use of your toys.

Choso didn’t even bother knocking on the door; he just pushed it open, finding you hunched over the counter, hand between your legs, as the silver bullet toy buzzed over your clit. Your eyes went wide, but you didn’t move your hand away from your wet sex. You couldn’t not when you were so close. Choso just walked into the bathroom, stepping to stand behind you, rubbing his throbbing cock over your entrance.

“C-Choso~”

“I can help you, ya’ know.” He said softly before gently pushing inside of you. “All you needed to do was ask.” You whimpered as his thick cck stretched you open, your knees buckling. “I wouldn’t have minded going another round.”

His hand joined yours holding the vibrating toy harder over your clit. “I-I ah! Fuck I know, I’m sorry! Y-You came, and I didn’t; you just looked so tired I didn’t want to ask you to overexert yourself.” Choso’s eyes met yours in the mirror as he began fucking into you with a groan.

“I’m never tired when it comes to you. I’m always willing to keep going until you are fully satisfied.” His cock slid in and out of you faster as his free hand grabbed a handful of your ass, squeezing it.

”I-I fuck s-so-fuckin’ good Choso!” You gasped out a shaky cry of pleasure. “Feels so good, please baby more.”

“Yeah, I feel you clenching.” His hips were grinding into you, rubbing your g-spot as he helped you rub the buzzing bullet up and down over your clit. “Are you going to cum for me? Going to squirt?”

“Y-Yes Choso! Yes, I’m so close!”

He let go of the toy at your warning. Both his hands gripped your hips, using them as leverage to pound into you at full force. He was hitting every spot you loved while your bullet buzzed. The combination of all these factors had you cumming for the first time in two weeks. You came, squirting all over the tiled floor, making your feet slip as you tried to keep a grip on the sink. Your pussy clenched so hard around Choso that he stilled inside of you, cumming even harder than he had in the entryway.

You were so grateful that Choso was holding you up by your hips. If he hadn’t been, you were positive you would have ended up on the ground, a heaping puddle of useless limbs. Choso, who you had thought was tired before, was the first to move. He kissed down your back, gently massaging your hips as you slowly came back to your senses.

“Mm, come on, babe.” He whispered against your skin, slowly helping you shuffle towards the shower. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Then we can take a nap.” As you stood under the running water with Choso massaging your shoulders, you couldn’t help but shut your eyes as he kissed your temple.

It was good to be home.

[yellowharrington]

save a horse (ride a cowboy!) -- joel miller x reader

pairing + fandom: joel miller x reader, the last of us (hbo)

word count: 3.9k

warnings/notes: smut and porn!!! minors DNI, 18+!!! no outbreak!au. she/her pronouns used, afab!reader (with mentions of body parts), no use of y/n. age gap (joel is at least 10 years older). drinking (both reader and joel), unprotected PIV, oral (f receiving), spanking, dirty talk, car sex. if i missed anything lmk!

a/n: recommended listening: save a horse (ride a cowboy) by big & rich. honourable mention to austin by dasha bc it's been on repeat. please take the time to leave comments/reblog if you liked it <3 thank u for reading!! divider by @cafekitsune

summary: meeting an older man at the bar and spontaneously fucking him in his truck was not on your list of things to do for your first summer back in austin, but what can you do?

You hate going dancing.

Sweaty clubs with bodies brushing up against one another, sticky with the hot summer heat, confined to the walls of a crowded bar and beer sticking to the bottom of your shoes. Not the way you plan to spend your first Saturday night back in Austin for the summer, but Maddy is so convincing, your hand clasped around yours, a pleading look in her eyes. 

“I promise. It’s so fun. We’ll invite Kaylee and Erin and it’ll be a whole thing.”

You rolled your eyes at her, slipping your hand out from between hers. “Fine. One drink, one dance.”

She squealed with excitement and clapped her hands together, stepping up from the small cafe table. “We can pregame at mine. Wear that black top you have.”

You nod, thinking of the top in question. A corseted black thing that didn’t leave much to the imagination, breasts spilling out of the stop beneath the tight stitching. You think it probably got shoved to the back of your closet somewhere.

~

Joel hates going dancing.

Well, he doesn’t hate dancing. He just isn’t good at it, and hasn’t gone since his very early twenties. And he certainly would not be interested in spending the evening with Tommy at a country bar in downtown Austin, surrounded by women who would grimace at a pair of old men taking up a table.

But Tommy is convincing, hands gesturing around him annoyingly, until Joel gives in. “Fine. One drink. Then I’m leavin’.”

“This city is swarming with beautiful women,” Tommy says, knocking back another sip of his hot coffee. “And you’re too holed up inside to meet any of ‘em.”

“I like my own company,” Joel starts, bringing his own coffee mug to the sink. “Some of us are happy by ourselves.”

Tommy snorts, a hand clapping onto Joel’s shoulder. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, big shot. We’ll see when there’s a bunch of hotties in front of ya, then you can tell me that you like being alone.”

Joel gags at his use of the word ‘hotties’, and pulls his work boots on. “I can still change my mind, ya know.”

~ 

Night falls over the suburbs of Austin, taking the sunshine but leaving the humid, sweet heat in the air. You’re surrounded by your friends at Maddy’s apartment, a light pink gloss swiping across your lips. You’ve managed to dig out the top she had mentioned earlier, tied in a tight bow at the back. Your dark jeans hit just below it, letting slivers of smooth skin show, which somehow seemed sluttier than the fact your boobs were practically falling out of the top. Your jeans outlined the plump curve of your ass, a pair of dark cowboy boots adorning your calves. The last time you’d dressed like this was a long time ago, so it felt a little foreign, but not uncomfortable.

The cab ride to the bar is eventful, with 4 girls singing along to the songs on the radio at the top of your lungs. You were already a drink or two deep, having done some brightly coloured shot at Maddy’s house, taking it without thinking. You still weren’t planning on doing anything insane tonight, and bar drinks were expensive, so this was probably the best it was going to get for you.

The car pulls up to the bar and waits for you all to pour out, flashing your IDs to the bouncer, sliding inside past the thrums of people already inside. The bar was almost full, dance floor packed, drinks being poured by every bartender. Neon signs and amber lamps served as the only lighting for the establishment, already making things feel fuzzy around the edges for you.

Joel sits at a rickety wooden table in the corner of the bar with Tommy, scratching the wet label off of his beer bottle. He had fished out a plaid t-shirt from his closet, his usual jeans taught across his thighs and a pair of nicer boots than his work ones on his feet. His hair was pushed back, curls still lapping at the nape of his neck and curves of his ear. He was noticeably older than the other patrons of the bar, painfully aware of that fact, he felt rather uncomfortable. Tommy didn’t seem to mind, feet tapping at the beer-washed hardwood. “Stop lookin’ so mad,” he remarks, close to Joel’s ear. “You’ll scare ‘em all away.”

There are groups of people pouring in from outside, bachelorette parties and frat boys, making Joel feel unbelievably out of place. It was hard to lighten up when he wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing here.

The doors open once more, your group of friends pushing their way through the sea of people, hand in hand. Joel notices, one girl in a cowboy hat, one in denim jean cutoffs, one with a big belt buckle that glints pink against the light. 

Then he notices you.

His face softens as you follow behind your friends, as they push to the front of the line for a drink. He’s got 10 years on you, easy, but that doesn’t stop his cock twitching against the zipper of his suddenly too-tight jeans.

Soft curves, a top that fits you just right, and jeans that accentuate the dips and lines of your body. You’ve got warm energy, a bright smile adorning your glossed lips. 

You barely even notice him, until you turn around and make eye contact, your shining eyes meeting his. He’s too handsome for his own good, biceps and shoulders pressed tight against the sleeves of his shirt. He’s got his thighs spread across the chair he’s sitting in, towards you, almost like he wants you to come and just sit right on his lap.

You offer a small smile across the dim bar, taking your drink and following your friends to the last open table they’d spotted. A high top, back to the stranger now, giving him the opportunity to see your shape. He swears you’re sticking your ass out on purpose, so he can see the soft skin where your jeans meet the bottom of your top. 

“Joel,” Tommy’s voice cuts through the bustle of the bar. “If you’re gonna be so fuckin’ miserable, we can go. There’s another place-“

Joel stops him, teetering his beer towards his brother. “This is fine. We can stay for another round.”

~ 

You pull yourself away from the group after finishing your round of sugary drinks and shots, your head beginning to buzz. “I’ll get the next ones,” you giggle, pushing yourself out of your seat and steadying yourself on the ground. “Green tea shots?” The girls hoot and holler back to you, as you turn on your heels towards the crowded bar. 

Joel gets up, almost looking panicked, when he sees that you’re leaving your group. He downs the rest of his beer and tips his head towards Tommy, as if to ask, “another?”. Tommy nods and sits back in his chair, continuing to observe. Joel makes a beeline, able to slide right beside you in line.

You can smell the cologne and laundry detergent on his clothes while he stands behind you, shuffling on his feet. You can almost feel his nerves, radiating off of his large form. 

He can smell your perfume and shampoo, it’s intoxicating. 

Joel is served first, the bartender leaning forward to listen to his request. “Two Buds, and uh,” you feel a soft hand on your shoulder. If you couldn’t see that it was him, someone would have a black eye.

“What are you drinkin’, darlin’?”

His voice is sweet like honey as he dips down to be so unbelievably close to your ear, his hand now on the side of your arm. Heat spreads up your neck at his proximity. 

“Oh, I’m getting like 4 shots, you don’t have to-“

“What kinda shots?”

“Uh, green tea. Green tea shots.”

“And four green tea shots.”

The bartender nods as Joel slides his cash across the bar, turning, and looking down at you slightly. You feel impossibly small in that moment.

“You really did not have to do that, thank you.” You’re on your tip toes, a hand pressed against his chest now, lips as close to his ear as you can get. 

He shivers. He can’t remember the last time someone was this close to him in this way. 

“No problem,” he waves it off, taking the two beers by the neck of the bottle and moving over slightly for you to grab the shots. 

Your ass brushes across the front of his jeans, and he knows it’s intentional.

“Thanks again for the drinks,” and you’ve disappeared back into the crowd in a second.

Oh. Nevermind.

He can’t help but feel a little dejected, slinking back to his seat with Tommy and passing him his beer. “Struck out, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Joel watches your table still, annoyed, but not entirely surprised. Pretty stupid of him to think you’d want to fraternize with a man such as himself, so much older than you. Maybe he’d come off too strong?

His head is all but hanging in his hands when he watches you get up again, your friends coming along with you. He averts his eyes in embarrassment, not noticing that you’re making your way over to his table.

Tommy notices.

“Ladies!” He draws out, hands thrown up in the air. Joel looks up then, locking in eyes with you immediately.

“Didn’t think I’d leave you hanging, did ya cowboy?” A smile tugs at his lips as you extend a hand to him. “After you were so nice?”

He laughs a little, your other friend taking a hold of Tommy and pulling him towards the crowded dance floor. He’s very easily persuaded.

“Come dance with me!”

“Oh, I’m not a dancer,” he laughs, warm and honeyed. It makes heat pool in your core.

“Neither am I. Come anyways.”

All he can do is obey, taking your hand and letting you lead him away from the table. 

~

The music pulses under your feet as you end up in a tight line, shoulder to shoulder. He can’t stop looking at you, leaning down to speak into your ear. 

“I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said I didn’t know how to dance,” he explains, and his breath is hot against the curve of your ear.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it when we start goin’. Just follow me.”

And I saddle up my horse

And I ride into the city

I make a lot of noise

Cause the girls

They are so pretty

Joel’s eyes are parked on your body as you start to move along to the steps of the line dance, feet tapping against the hard wood of the floor beneath you. Your hands are up by your face, clapping along to the beat. He tries to follow along, at least stepping in the right direction, clapping at the right time, but it’s no use.

Your body is insatiable - hips rolling to the pounding music. The curves and lines of your ass, paired with the soft tissue of your breasts nearly busting out of the top you chose to wear. Your skin is supple, shining against the dance floor lights that are favouring him right now as he lets a red blush engulf the skin of his cheeks and neck. 

He wonders what it looks like underneath, peeled off and bunched up around your ankles, or thrown on the floor of his bedroom. He thinks of fingering the ties of your shirt, loosening them and pushing it off, his hand across the front of your throat as he makes you look at yourself. How pretty you are. Goosebumps spread across the exposed skin of his arm.

You grab his hand suddenly, and he’s taken out of his daydream. Your eyes are fiery as you let yourself get even closer to him, feeling bold enough to put his hand across the small of your back.

“Follow me,” you command, as he looks down at the footwork you’re doing along to the song.

Riding up and down Broadway

On my old stud Leroy

And the girls say

Save a horse, ride a cowboy!

He attempts to follow it again, egged on by the feeling of your hot skin against his thumb. He could honestly maybe cum just from this touch alone if he really tried.

It’s not actually as hard as he thought, if he concentrates. A few steps, repeated over and over again, until it comes naturally. You notice how easily he picks it up, smiling up at him, beaming up while he’s lost in thought. 

The song picks up, and the whole floor is enthralled by the dance. You see Joel’s smile light up the room, and he hasn’t dared to move his hand from your back. You don’t mind.

When your body turns toward his, he halts before almost running into you, still following the steps along to the song.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

Your words take him by surprise, but they are not unwelcome. 

“Yes.” His hand envelops yours as he takes a look at Tommy, seeing that he’s still in the throws of the song with your friends.

Your hand leads him off the dance floor and towards the club bathroom, but he stops you, lips close to your ear again. “My truck is parked out back, if we want, a little more, um,” he clears his throat, “privacy.”

“Show me the way,” you smile, letting him pull you out the doors and into the darkness of the parking lot. 

He fishes for his keys nervously when you get to the side of his truck, an older model with blue paint. He can’t remember the last time he did anything like this, if he ever has, and it’s getting to his head.

“Let’s get in the back seat,” you say, taking him out of his trance. “Wanna feel you.”

He lets you in first, pushing across the bench seating as he slides in beside you. There’s a moment of awkwardness, before your hand reaches out to touch his denim-clad thigh. His breath hitches.

“Relax,” your smile is intoxicating to him, and he’s drinking you in. “We’re just here to have a little fun.”

He lets himself lurch forward, your lips pressed against his fervently. They’re rough and chapped, but cold from the beer he’d been nursing earlier, offering you some reprieve. 

Your hand snakes up his chest to the side of his throat, pulling him in to come closer and delve deeper. His tongue comes out to lick across your teeth and press against the soft wetness of your tongue, as his hand comes up to palm your breasts over your top, grabbing at any flesh he can get his fingers on. 

He quickly and deftly finds the bow Maddy had tied on the back, pulling it loose and letting the fabric relax so you he could pull it off of your form.

His hands began to explore the soft skin of your breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth as you arch into him and let a strained moan come from your lips.

“Fuck,” is all you can think to say, because his large hands are spread across your back, forcing you closer, and into him. Soft moans escape your lips as you let him take what he needs from you.

“Off,” he commands suddenly, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of your jeans and yanking them down, after you pop the button and undo the zipper. Your boots have come off at some point in the tussle, and now you’re naked in the back seat of a stranger’s car with not much to say for yourself.

You push his flannel down his shoulders as his weight hovers over you, revealing how strong he really is. Rippling biceps beneath his tight shirt, strong chest, kind eyes. 

You’re lying beneath him, when his hands come up under your thighs to push them apart and expose your pussy to him. He kneels between your soft thighs, thankful for the dark night sky around him, as he delves into your heat with his warm tongue.

You see stars when he makes first contact, a broad stripe of his tongue sending you into space. He’s hungry for it, immediately suckling onto your clit and wrapping his lips around it, strong hands still pushing your thighs apart. He’s taking his time to taste you, wild and intricate, feeling the bulge in his jeans strain against the zipper.

“Oh, fuck,” you manage to get out, in between breathless moans. Your hand came down to tangle in his hair, feeling the soft locks between your fingers, enjoying the way he’s making your hips roll onto his face. You can’t help but rut against him, soaking his wet mouth with your slick, using him to get yourself off.

He’s moaning into your pussy, working his own now-free cock in one of his hands, while the other delves two fingers into your core. Your breath catches in your throat when he fills you, stretching you open and wide for him, hitting the perfect spot to make your stomach start to spasm as you threatened to unravel beneath him.

“Fuck, so good, so so good,” you laugh breathlessly, the ecstasy beginning to take over as he continued to work your pussy, and you felt the familiar white-hot feeling along the back of your thighs.

“I’m gonna, — oh my god,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before he was tonguing at you harder, eyes flickering up to watch you. “I’m gonna fucking come.”

“Good girl,” he growls into you, only offering you momentary reprieve from his tongue before using the rest of his energy to help you ride out your orgasm on his face. Your hips bucked and spasmed against him, the windows fogging up with your hot breath as you fucked yourself on his fingers. He let you pull on his hair as moans tumbled from your lips, breathless and spent.

When you managed to come down, he took his fingers from inside you and pumped his cock a few times, now bobbing in between the two of you as he slid himself up your body to kiss up your chest and capture your soft lips into a kiss.

“Sit back,” you whispered, pushing on his chest to bring him back sitting upright. His jeans were pooled around his ankles now, and you had pulled his t-shirt over his head to meet the other clothes on the floor of the truck. You positioned yourself across his lap, pumping his cock a few times and feeling the girth around your fingers.

He looked blissed out, head against the headrest, savouring the feeling of your pretty hand around him. If he looked down between your two bodies he might come right then, at the sight. 

“You did so much work, baby,” you coo, sitting down on his thick cock and bottoming out immediately, just to watch his lips fall open and eyes flutter close at how tight you are. “Made me cum so easy.”

Your lips latch onto his neck as you kiss and lap at the rough skin, letting your hips rock back and forth, slowly at first. Getting used to his length inside of you would’ve been tough if he hadn’t opened you up so easily beforehand. 

“Move,” his hands come to your waist, lightly forcing you to grind down on his lap. His cock was hitting inside of you so perfectly as you swallowed him into your body, looking down as his head lulled back against the seat. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he started, letting you set the pace of your hips, hand coming up to paw at your breast once more.

“You like this cock, don’t you?” You nod, letting your hand come to the seat behind his head and steadying yourself before beginning to bounce in his lap. “Yeah, fuck, yeah I do.”

He’s in his element now, any and all shyness from the newness of the situation melting away as he pounded into you mercilessly. The truck was no doubt shaking back and forth a little, a steadying hand print the only window to the outside world. Joel didn’t even care if people could see, they’d just be jealous.

“I’m gonna, fuck-,” he starts, eyes cloudy at the edges, vision fuzzy as he looked up at you. You were fucked out, cock-drunk on him, watching as he was coming undone underneath you as you squeezed around him. “Oh yeah?” You tease, not letting up on the rhythm of your hips, his hand coming down to your ass in a firm slap.

You moaned then, arching your back into him and sitting back. “Where do you want me?”

He’s desperate to cum now. Even the thought of your pretty face beneath him, taking his hot ropes on your soft pink lips is making him jerk forward into you with need.

He pushes you off, and you wince from the loss of contact. He’s fisting his cock above you right away, pink tip ready to explode any second at the sight of you, tits pressed together. Your mouth is open, and he sticks his fingers in between your lips as you moan around them, tasting yourself.

“Cum all over me,” you start, pinching your nipples with your free hand. “Fuck, I want it.”

It’s enough for his knees to buckle and hot cum to shoot all over your stomach and tits, painting you white with his seed. His eyes squeeze shut as you watch him ride his orgasm out, balls emptying onto you as he slows down and regains consciousness, taking a second to drink you in when he can open his eyes again. 

Your breath is heaving as you take a finger to swipe some of his cum onto your finger, dipping the digit into your mouth. His brows furrow together as he pulls you up to kiss your lips, devouring you, hands coming up to each side of your face as if to thank you for such a good time.

“Been a while since I did anything like that,” he laughs, and you follow shyly. “You got like, a napkin?” You giggle, as he grabs something in the front seat for you to clean up with. “Thanks. That was fun.”

He nods in agreement, catching his breath before pulling his t-shirt over his head. “I suppose we should go back in there,” he checks his appearance in the rearview mirror, all blushed and fucked out. 

You put your top back on over your body, turning towards him. “Can you lace me back up, please?”

His hands begin to work at you, tightening a bow at the bottom much like it had been done before.

A thought crossed your mind that made a giggle escape your lips. “What?” Joel asked, amused, pulling his jeans back on over his hips. 

“I don’t think I ever got your name.”

He laughs too, thinking of the events that had transpired given neither of you knew such a basic piece of information. 

“I guess we can stick with cowboy.”

[terven--godess]

The feminist movement highlights how men weaponize safety concerns to maintain control over women. Even when women take precautions for their own security, many men respond with dismissiveness or threats, reinforcing women's vulnerability. This behavior is part of a larger pattern of undermining women's independence and reinforcing male dominance by making women feel powerless, even in situations where they've taken measures to protect themselves. I'm aiming for the legal protections of the prostitute but a crackdown on johns and pimps. I want prostitutes (and other 'sex workers' of course but I am focusing on prostitutes) to be able to seek aid, go to the police, and get other forms of help without fear of being arrested or fined. I want johns to be scared to even walk near a prostitute. I want pimps to face a minimum of 10 years in prison if not more. On one hand, we are told to express ourselves, to open up, yet the moment we do, our feelings are met with skepticism, even ridicule. "Who hurt you?" they ask, not out of care but as if our pain is something to be dismissed. Men, in particular, seem almost repelled by the vulnerability they claim to want. There s an underlying reason for this pattern, but the question remains: why? ne stark example is how some individuals seem to reject the societal pressures that come with their assigned gender by adopting identities that ostensibly offer more freedom, but ultimately lead back to the same structural biases they hoped to escape. A similar point of cognitive dissonance can be found in the ways men continue to undermine women s contributions to society. The tired argument that men are responsible for most major scientific discoveries conveniently ignores the historical context in which women were denied access to education, intellectual pursuits, and professional recognition.

^^^ reminder that peanut butter think stuff like this is ok. Lets just sonic the hedgehog until we reach the S.S. Bootleg. Why does everything have to be so weird with you? i dont prit anymore i whooperchia. Just because you can sag doesnt mean you should bwip. Nothings ever gwobbly enough when Wario tries to vop at the grand glub glub ga-lub. If I had a MLT for every time MIM tried to blomp, Id own The deep and scary hole.Things arent as wacky as they seem, especially in the doop hole.

[idkyetxoxo]

Jacaerys Velaryon - Protect and Avenge

Summary - Ambushed by ruthless bandits, Jace's wife is ripped from his arms, igniting a fury within him and he truly will stop at nothing to protect the woman he loves, no matter the cost.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warnings - Violence

Word count - 2442

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

The journey to the Wall was proving longer and more exhausting than I had anticipated, yet my determination to see it through remained steadfast. 

From the outset, I had pleaded with Jace and Lord Stark to let me accompany them, yearning for a chance to steal a few peaceful moments with my husband amidst the rigors of the trip.

As we pressed onward, Lord Stark and his men rode ahead, scouting for a suitable place to rest for the night. Despite my weariness, I found myself captivated by the beauty of the landscape around us. 

The tall trees stood like silent sentinels, their leaves whispering in the cool evening breeze, while the fading light painted the sky in hues of orange and pink.

"This is all so beautiful," I murmured, almost to myself, as I admired the view.

"It is, isn't it?" Jace responded, though his eyes remained fixed on me.

"When all of this is over," I began, my voice tinged with longing, "we should travel—see the great wonders across the Narrow Sea."

Jace's smile softened as he reached out to touch my hand. "Anything you wish," he promised.

Just as the peaceful moment settled between us, the serenity of the forest was shattered. 

Figures emerged from the shadows without warning, their movements swift and silent. My heart leapt as they stepped onto the path, blocking our way and forcing us to halt abruptly.

Jace's hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, tension radiating from him as he scanned the strangers. Their faces were obscured by capes, but their postures were unmistakably threatening.

I took a deep breath and straightened in my saddle, striving to keep my voice calm as I addressed them. "Apologies, have we done something to offend you?"

The leader, a tall figure with a rough voice, stepped forward. "Your presence here is what offends us," he said, his tone cold and menacing. "These lands are not safe for travelers."

I exchanged a quick glance with Jace, who subtly shifted to place himself between me and the leader. The tension in the air was palpable, and I felt my pulse quicken.

"We are simply passing through," I replied, my voice steady despite the fear creeping up my spine. "We mean no harm and seek only to continue on our way."

The man's eyes roved over us, lingering on our fine cloaks, the well-crafted saddles, and the quality of our horses. I could see the gears turning in his mind, a calculating look crossing his face as he assessed us.

"I do not see a traveling party," he remarked, gesturing to the empty road around us.

"Lord Cregan Stark and his men are not far ahead," Jace said, his tone firm but cautious. "We are accompanying them."

At the mention of Lord Stark, the man's eyebrows lifted slightly, and he glanced back at his group. They straightened, exchanging knowing looks.

"Lord Stark?" the leader repeated, his voice now tinged with interest. "You must be some important guests, then."

A chill ran through me as I realized what he was thinking. Our clothes, our horses, the mere mention of Lord Stark—all marked us as wealthy, or at least valuable. To a group like this, we were the perfect targets.

The leader smirked, a sinister glint in his eyes as he turned back to us. "Seems we've found ourselves a bit of fortune today, boys," he said, his voice dripping with malice.

Before we could react, the men closed in around us. Jace's hand flew to his sword, drawing it with a sharp hiss as he braced himself to defend us. The determination in his eyes was clear, but so were the overwhelming odds against us.

"Stay close to me," Jace ordered, his voice low and tense.

The men moved with practiced precision, their intentions unmistakable. They saw an opportunity to take something, or someone, of value, and they weren't going to let it slip through their fingers.

Jace swung his sword, delivering a fierce blow to the first attacker, but more men quickly swarmed around us. I reached for the dagger I kept hidden, trying desperately to assist, but the chaos was overwhelming.

There were too many of them, too strong, and despite Jace's valiant efforts, it wasn't enough.

Rough hands suddenly grabbed me, yanking me from my horse. I screamed and struggled, but their grip was relentless. Jace's face twisted into a mask of fury as he fought to reach me, but the men were ruthless.

"Let her go!" Jace roared, desperation and rage lacing his voice as he slashed at the men holding me. For a fleeting, heart-stopping moment, he managed to break through, reaching out to pull me back.

But more men piled on, and the force was too great. I was torn from his grasp and dragged backwards, my efforts to escape futile against their ironclad hold.

"Jace!" I cried out, my voice trembling with terror as I was pulled further away. I saw the anguish in his eyes, the helpless rage as he struggled against the overwhelming numbers.

Jace fought like a man possessed, his sword flashing in the dimming light, but it wasn't enough. 

The men were too many, their intent too fierce, and I was dragged away from him, my captors tightening their grip.

"Take her!" the leader barked, and I was roughly hauled into the trees. My screams echoed through the forest, growing fainter as Jace's desperate shouts diminished in the distance.

My heart pounded as I was ripped from the man I loved. The once-beautiful forest had transformed into a nightmarish blur as I was carried off into the unknown, my fear of what awaited me mounting with every step.

"Let me go!" I thrashed wildly as they dragged me deeper into the forest, but their grip remained unyielding.

They flung me over the back of a horse, my body jolting with each rough step as we moved further and further from Jace, from safety. In the distance, the soft, flickering light of a campfire came into view, casting ominous shadows over my impending fate.

The men shoved me to the ground, and I winced as the rough earth scraped against my skin. They quickly bound my hands and feet with coarse rope, the knots tight and unforgiving. I could hear their voices murmuring among themselves, low and urgent.

Their ragged appearance marked them as mercenaries or bandits from the Riverlands, their clothes worn and their faces hardened by a life of crime.

"Please, listen to me," I begged, my voice trembling with fear, but they ignored me, engrossed in their whispered discussions.

"Listen!" I shouted, forcing some of them to turn and look at me.

"The man you just fought is Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne, and I am his wife," I declared, my words spilling out in a desperate rush as tears streamed down my face. "His mother, the queen, will not take this lightly. Just let me go, and we can end this now."

The men exchanged uneasy glances, the gravity of my words slowly sinking in. One of them, a wiry man with a cruel smirk, raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"You lot nicked a princess?" he asked, his twisted grin widening.

"Well, we didn't know she was a princess when we took her," another man retorted defensively, his voice tinged with nervousness.

As the realization of their mistake dawned on them, the unease in their eyes became palpable. A crime like this would undoubtedly draw the wrath of the crown.

Instead of releasing me, their hesitation grew, caught between fear and greed. The leader stepped forward, his face hardening as he weighed their options.

"If she's truly who she claims to be, then she's worth a king's ransom," he said, his voice cold and calculating.

My heart sank as I grasped the danger I was in. These men, desperate and driven by greed, had nothing to lose and everything to gain. I was now the unfortunate prize in their ruthless game.

Before I could react, rough hands grabbed me again, clawing at my clothes and forcing me to my feet. They dragged me forward, shoving me into the center of the circle they had formed. Their eyes gleamed with a perverse curiosity, as if I were a rare and exotic creature on display.

"Hold her up!" one of the men barked, and more hands seized me, lifting me so that I was suspended in their grip, my feet barely touching the ground.

The ropes binding my wrists and ankles dug painfully into my skin, but the physical pain was eclipsed by the overwhelming sense of humiliation that washed over me.

They passed me around like a lifeless doll, their rough hands poking and prodding with cruel enjoyment. Their laughter and crude comments were relentless. Tears stung my eyes, but I fought to keep them back, determined not to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.

"Look at her," one sneered, yanking at my cloak to reveal the fine dress beneath. "All dressed up like she thinks she's better than us."

"Bet she's never had to work a day in her life," another added, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Probably thinks she's too good to even look at the likes of us," a third chimed in, his face contorted with malice.

Their words were like daggers, each one striking at my dignity. It wasn't just their words, it was the way they looked at me, as if I were nothing more than a trophy to be displayed, a symbol of their defiance against those they deemed superior.

To them, I was not a person but a prize to be humiliated, a way to assert power in a world that had likely offered them none.

"Let's see how pretty she looks without all that fancy fabric," one of them sneered, reaching for my dress.

Panic surged through me, and I struggled harder, twisting in their grip, but their laughter grew louder, feeding off my fear. The leader stepped forward, his eyes as cold as ice, and seized my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"You should've stayed in your castle, little princess," he hissed, his breath hot against my face. "Out here, you're just another piece of meat."

The weight of the humiliation was crushing, pressing down on me until I felt utterly powerless. Surrounded by their mocking faces, my pleas for mercy were swallowed by the cacophony of their laughter.

Just when I thought I could endure no more, a thunderous voice shattered the cruel laughter that surrounded me.

"Get your hands off my wife!" The command roared through the clearing, silencing the jeering men and freezing their wicked smiles in place.

My head snapped up, and through my tear-blurred vision, I saw Jace standing at the edge of the clearing, his face a mask of rage and determination. He was flanked by Cregan and his men, their weapons drawn and ready.

Jace's eyes locked onto mine, burning with a fury I had never seen before.

In an instant, chaos erupted. Cregan's men surged forward, their swords clashing with those of my captors, who barely had time to react. 

The leader's grip on me slackened as he turned to face the new threat, but it was too late. Cregan's men were relentless, cutting through the bandits with brutal efficiency.

I was dropped to the ground, my legs buckling beneath me as the battle raged on around me. I heard Jace calling my name, his voice filled with desperate urgency. I tried to stand, to reach for him, but my strength had been drained by fear and exhaustion.

Then Jace was beside me, dropping to his knees and pulling me into his arms. He cradled me against his chest as I sobbed uncontrollably. The warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart were my anchors to reality in that moment.

"I'm here, I'm here," Jace murmured, his voice trembling with emotion as he held me close. "I'll never let anyone hurt you again."

I clung to him, my fingers digging into his cloak as if I could melt into him and escape the horror of what had happened. The tears flowed freely now, and I couldn't stop them, nor could I hold back the flood of emotions that had built up since my capture.

Jace stroked my hair, whispering soothing words as I cried into his shoulder. The sounds of battle faded into the background, replaced by the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat and the solidity of his presence.

For a brief, precious moment, the world shrank to just the two of us, and I felt safe again.

As the last of the bandits were subdued, their leader was dragged forward by two of Cregan's men. His defiance had melted away, replaced by fear as he was thrown to the ground at Jace's feet.

Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, and he looked up at Jace with wide, panicked eyes, no longer the predator but the prey.

Jace's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at the man who had dared to lay a hand on me.

Without a word, he drew his sword, the steel gleaming in the firelight. I could feel the tension in his body, the barely restrained fury trembling in his hands as he gripped the hilt.

"Please..." the leader began to beg, his voice trembling as he realized the gravity of his mistake. "I didn't know who she was... I didn't know..."

His pleas fell on deaf ears. Jace's gaze remained cold and unforgiving, and in that moment, I knew there would be no mercy. 

This man had taken something precious from Jace, my safety, my dignity and Jace was not one to let such a transgression go unpunished.

Without hesitation, he swung his sword, the blade slicing clean through the air. The leader's plea was cut short, his life ending in an instant. Blood splattered the ground, and the clearing fell silent, the weight of what had just happened settling over everyone like a heavy shroud.

Jace stood over the fallen man, his chest heaving with the force of his anger, his sword dripping with blood. 

The conflict in his eyes was evident—the struggle between his need for justice and the horror of taking a life but when he looked back at me, only the fierce protectiveness of a husband who would go to any lengths to keep his wife safe remained.

He sheathed his sword and turned back to me, kneeling once more to gather me in his arms.

"It's over," he whispered, pressing his lips to my forehead. "You're safe now."

I nodded, though my body still trembled with the aftershocks of fear. I clung to him, letting the warmth of his embrace and the steady reassurance of his voice wash over me.

I was safe, I was with Jace, and that was all that mattered.

A/n - Jace's protectiveness levels just went from "'I'll hold your hand' to 'I'll decimate an entire forest for you.'

[sonarspace]

love sick king, sukuna

wc: 1.6k content: soft sukuna. just sukuna being in love. and slight nsfw. not proofread as usual. a/n: thinking of sukuna and how over in his head he would be when you first start dating cause you mean so much to him and he just wants to get it right.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

your first kiss. lips soft against his. he can taste the cherry chapstick when his tongue lulls out over your lips asking to be let in. a soft groan eliciting from him at the touch of your tongues. but he doesn’t push you further. he pulls back, eyes dilated. “we should stop..” he whispers. his thumb caressing your swollen lips. “okay. goodnight,” you chirp opening the door to your room and slipping in.

he walks back to his room. only thought in his head was your lips. he spends his night thinking about the kiss. wondering if you were too.

he steals glances when you serve him and his men dinner. not that you did this very often, only when you wanted to see him be a love sick puppy. he asks you to bring him the bread plate. “can i get some bread rolls, please?” he asks looking your way. his politeness while speaking to you doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the table. usually he would command not ask. they silently smirk at seeing him behave this way. their king had fallen in love.

his fingers lightly touch yours. electricity coursing through both your bodies. a blush creeps on his face as he grabs the bread roll from your hands. cute. you think to yourself. you could tease him about this later. “sukuna?” a voice brings up out of the trance. lost in your touch. lost in your eyes.

you move back to the kitchen. giddy. he comes after a while. “hey,” his voice gains your attention. you quickly move over to him. your arms move around his neck as his take their rest on your waist. “hi,” you smile.

both of you waiting for the other to make the first move. waiting to be kissed. you both hold eye contact. having a whole conversation without saying anything. you kiss him on the cheek and pull away “gotta clean up my king.” his heart skips a beat whenever you refer to him as your king. he wanted to be yours forever.

no advances are made by the either for you for the rest of the week. keeping your distances from each other. a knock comes at your door in the morning. sukuna stands outside your door. fiddling with his fingers — nervous with anticipation.

you open the door, half asleep. the early morning sun shining through the curtains lightening your frame. dressed in a skimpy white night gown, the robe loosely tied around. “sukuna,” you whisper sleep lacing your voice. “did you need something?” you ask with your head lulled to the side.

“um—” unable to form a coherent sentence at a upon seeing your morning look. your puffy eyes. slumped body. he wants to hold you in his arms. he wishes he could wake up to you every day. how much better his day would be if you were by his side. “sukuna,” you stretch the vowel trying to bring him back to you.

he clears his throat. “yes um, just wanted to ask you something.” can i kiss you? can you call me yours? will you be my girlfriend? marry me? he shakes his head as if the thoughts would clear but they stay lingering in the back of his mind when he asks you “will you go on a date with me?”

“took you long enough but yes i’d love to,” you smile at him. “perfect. i’ll pick you up at 7,” he returns your smile. it tugs at your heart. he should smile more often you think to yourself. a new goal to keep him smiling. “okay sweet cheeks. see you then.” he raises his eyebrows at the nickname. “now.. let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he warns jokingly. “too late,” you wink at him.

as promised sukuna’s outside your door at 7. an array of flowers in a bouquet in his hand. he knocks lightly. “come in!” you yell from inside. “it’s sukuna,” he replies back. in case you were expecting someone else. “i know. come in. i need your help.” he closes the door behind him, “in here,” you call out from the closet. he drops the bouquet on your coffee table and makes his way to you.

“close your eyes,” you yelp when you see him approaching. “but you just told me to come in?” he retorts. “i know but keep your eyes closed.” you walk over to where he’s standing and grab his hands. he hold his breath. “can you help me zip up this dress without looking?” you ask. “sure can,” he smirks. “you’re dirty,” you pout. “aw now no need to pout.” he catches you off guard. he just knew you too well. “i never claimed otherwise. now turn around.”

you put his hands on your shoulders and turn around. he can feel the material under his hands. “go ahead,” you whisper trying to hide how bad his touch was getting to you. he feels for the zip under his fingers. slowly moving over the straps and then to your bare skin. he inhales deeply at the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. soft and smooth. just how he imagined it. his hands make their way to the middle of your back. a small metal like piece comes in his grasp and he pulls it up, slowly. trying to savor the moment you let him this close to you.

“thank you. now keep your eyes closed and walk back outside and wait for me.” you order him and he abides. who would’ve the thought the king would be so love sick he would be taking orders. definitely not him. he smiles at the thought. happy to do anything you asked of him. soon after he leaves you follow him out to the hallway.

you’re dressed in a sheer black dress with lace flowers dotting it. hugging your body just the way he wishes to. unable to control himself he lets out a whistle at which you laugh and give him a twirl “do you like?” you ask him. “yes,” he grabs your waist mid twirl and pulls you in. shorter than him even with heels you look up at him with a big smile. he holds back from kissing and instead hands you the colorful bouquet “for you, my lady”.

still in the palace you step outside to his grand garden. he brings you to an area filled with different array of roses. the sun bidding its farewell to the sky and shining a perfect shade of gold made it look like a scene out of the movie. a stone table with stone benches on either side under the white pillars welcomed you.

breathtaking. that’s what you looked like he thinks. if that word was a person, it would be you. his hand grasps yours as you make conversation about everything and nothing. leftover dessert lingers on the side of your lip. his finger comes up to wipe it away. he thinks about pulling you in and kissing you. and you wait for it to come but it doesn’t. you both walk hand in hand. you looking up at the stars and talking about different constellations as he guides you through the garden and back into the house. he loves how excited you sound so he listens to every word you say carefully. he walks you to your room like always. and like last time you expect him to kiss you goodbye but he doesn’t. instead he kisses you on the cheek.

he wanted you to be the one to initiate the kiss. to confirm that you felt the same way he did but when you don’t he leaves you with a quick peck on the cheek.

he sighs when he reaches his bedroom. wondering if what you felt for each other was mutual. he lets his head fall back to the door muffling the sound of your knock. you wait for him patiently. maybe he didn’t want to see you, you thought.

but you’d regret it if you didn’t at least try. so you knock once more and almost instantly he opens the door. still dressed in the same clothes. you move in quickly. your hands grab his face and pull him down for a deep kiss. he moans into the kiss, shutting the door behind you.

his hands move under your thighs and your legs wrap around him like they were made to always keep him in your hold. he falls with you on the bed. he pulls back for a moment, quickly getting rid of anything that would halt either of your movements.

your walls are snug around him as he pushes in. you fit together perfectly. the way a key fits a lock. hard to choose between going fast and feeling good or going slow and savoring the moment, he chooses the latter.

he wishes he could stay in this moment forever. your sweet voice calling out his name in a fervor of pleasure. your eyes threatening to close “keep your eyes on me, doll,” he huffs. soon he brings you both to a state of ecstasy. you let go with a deep moan of his name “sukuna, oh fuck”. and he follows suit. painting your walls white. panting your name. his head falls to your neck. both of you breathing heavily. your fingers tangle into his pink locks as he leaves kisses behind your ear, on your neck, over your collarbone.

“sleep with me tonight,” he tells you and you nod an okay. “too tired to move, anyway.” you say making him chuckle. he cleans you up and pulls you in his arms. “i love you”, he whispers into your hair when he’s sure you’re asleep. he hopes you’re dreaming of him. dreaming of a life with him. just as he does.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

a/n pt. 2: had a half mind to end this over him not hearing you knock and keeping it angsty. but i’m nice :)

© SONARSPACE 2023 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[katrafiy]

Hiya tumblr! Let's have a talk about bioessentialist enbyphobia, transmisogyny, and how to make sure transfeminine people, enby or not, feel completely unsafe and unwelcome at your events. First take a look at this group description, and then lets get into it.

First some context. Those of you who know me know about the kinds of clubs I go to. This screenshot was taken from a local event page, and I've blocked out their name because in the months since this event was hosted the group has updated their description to be more inclusive.

Seeing that description, I avoided going to events hosted by that group.

"But Kat, why? You're a woman and it says women are allowed!"

It also implicitly lumps all nonbinary people who were assigned male at birth with men and calls them males.

So why is this a problem for me? Well, if this group sees all AMAB nonbinary people as "male" then it says a lot of things about the ways the see trans women.

Many, and I would venture to assume most, trans women know well the feeling of our womanhood treated as conditional, subject to immediate revocation without warning.

Spaces that are "Women and AFAB exclusive" are often rife with this, and often lead to a lot of really gross and abusive power dynamics where transfems get treated as second class to anyone who was assigned female at birth.

(Side note: Gretchen Felker-Martin did, I believe, a masterful job of portraying this sort of dynamic in her book Manhunt)

If you are a trans woman in one of these spaces, you quickly learn that you are on the thinnest of ice.

Laugh a little too loud? You're male.

Sit or stand a little too close? You're threatening.

Smile at the wrong person? You're making other people uncomfortable.

Transfems, in these spaces, quickly learn that standing up for ourselves in the face of flagrant abuse is verboten, and will be met with swift and decisive punishment and exile.

I personally don't like the word "theyfab" and don't use it. I'm writing this thread to hopefully help people better understand the social dynamics that were being addressed when that term was coined.

It was coined because transfems are forced to navigate a community of things like "afab only" apartment rentals.

It was coined because transfems constantly have to listen to other trans people implicitly describe us as disgusting, hideous freaks.

In short and in closing: consider that the reason why the term "theyfab" exists and "theymab" really doesn't probably lies somewhere in the fact that the sort of person who would call someone a "theymab" doesn't need to, because they *already* just call AMAB trans people "male".

[sugar-grigri]

Pochita, if you can read, why don't you speak ?

Wouldn't it be humane to protect humanity and demonic to protect the underworld? And what if... it was actually the other way around.

The interweaving of questions and answers is exactly what this chapter does.

While Yoru sordidly states that children are nothing more than the property of their parents, the one who can't speak, instead of devouring a human as he did with all those demons, decides to go to the blood drive.

Pochita understood what the sign meant. He knows how to talk. But he'd rather hold up that sign and roar than make any demands.

Worse still, he does not decide to give any orders.

It's not words that symbolise order, it's that raised index finger that already in Roman times expressed command.

In the United States, arms are a constitutional right (as recently reiterated by the Supreme Court, which does not admit of any restrictions), a fundamental freedom but also a means of preserving one's freedom, allowing organised militias to fight and protect the State.

You can see how it's all a construction, the weapons are a technological creation, the State is an administrative and political creation.

And that's where things get interesting. First of all, this chapter is highly symbolic and has a very strong political message (oh my god, political interpretation in a manga, impossible..........)

Yoru has sliced off the index fingers of those who support the right to bear arms in the United States. Or campaign for that freedom. But what Yoru is doing. In fact, it's taking it away from them. How can I shoot without this index finger? You can't do it.

It's by taking weapons away from men that they actually regain their freedom.

But it goes even further than that. Why does Yoru sacrifice these fingers? Because it reinforces the fear of weapons. Let's say I point a gun at you (sorry). You'd be less scared if you were as armed as I am. Especially when you're trained, know how to defend yourself and aren't afraid to shoot.

Yoru makes those who thought they were invincible with weapons vulnerable. She strengthens the Gun Devil's power. She contracts with them through her sacrificed child.

Weapons,

freedom,

deprivation of childhood,

of loved ones,

obsession with a mentor,

To think that a god created them.

Remind you of anyone?

Infanticide is what makes you immortal.

The sacrificed demons become weapons, lost between humanity and the demons. Not being human, nor demon, because they have no parents. Even artificial weapons like Reze and Katana display these characteristics. Isn't loneliness one of the ingredients?

Humanity sacrifices its children. As Fujimoto confirmed, they were prepared to do it for eternal youth.

And now you're going to say to me. NOOOO! Yoru too! Just as Makima wouldn't hesitate to do. The demons are also ready to do it.

Yes, because they are influenced by men.

Yoru speaks, uniting with humanity to say horrible things. Whereas Pochita doesn't speak. Worse still, he has chosen not to speak. Worst of the worst, even worse. He'd rather be a dog than a human. That's his choice.

Pochita fights for those he loves, he doesn't sacrifice them.

The demon of birth, it swallows but can spit out. Suspending existence, giving it new life, denying none of it.

Wasn't Makima devoured by Denji proof of this?

Nayuta is the symbol of this rebirth. A perpetual love that surpasses hate.

Pochita loves demons. He also loves those who mean something to him, like Denji. But he also knows that when we become too human, we can end up sacrificing ourselves out of vanity rather than love.

Pochita has sacrificed himself for love, without expecting anything in return as he waits permanently for Denji's dreams.

He is also Denji's lock, preventing him from fully adapting to men.

That's why killing Black CSM was Denji's wish come true. Because Pochita is preventing Denji from becoming normal.

Because he wants to protect him from humanity. Pochita has never been for humanity.

He is simply the guardian of the underworld, all those demons whose existence he guards, a supreme mother. Humanity must endure in order to continue to be afraid. But if humanity is prepared to overcome the ultimate fear of losing its child, then fear is scorned.

So Pochita tried to wipe out the weapons' existence, to devour them. But they still existed. Why? Because they are already the result of infanticide.

being devoured by the demon of birth, mother of the underworld, actually reinforces their existence.

Being devoured by their mother is the reason for their nature.

Whereas weapons are beings born because their mother has killed them.

Denji is the result of the death of the Supreme Mother.

It's not a weapon.

He's a wall.

Hero of the underworld.

A hero of the underworld who has been fighting from the start for the victory of love, sacrificing himself for those he loves and not sacrificing them. So he asks for blood.

And I'm sorry. If weapons really are born like that, they have to look human, and I think this is the last possessed human.

Someone's been ringing the doorbell.....for 100 chapters… it's time to answer it, isn't it?

[novaursa]

Skyfall

- Summary: Baela and you chase after Cole and his men. You fall from the sky straight into Gwayne's arms. Literally.

- Paring: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N and is Rhaenyra's younger sister. The reader is also bonded with Silverwing. For more parts, and if you want to read this in chronological order check my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 2 997

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

The woods blur past as you cling to Silverwing's saddle, the thrill of the chase coursing through your veins. Baela and Moondancer had led the initial pursuit, their swift movements through the sky like arrows seeking their target. But now, it’s you and Silverwing against the fading light, and the dense canopy below.

"Go on, Baela! I’ll take it from here!" you shout, your voice mingling with the rush of wind.

Baela gives you a quick, sharp nod before veering off, her focus shifting elsewhere. You and Silverwing dive, the leaves slapping at you like an annoyed housemaid. 

"Alright, girl," you murmur to Silverwing, "let's show them what we’ve got."

Your dragon roars in agreement, her silvery scales glinting in the dying sunlight as you plummet into the forest. The branches are closer now, snapping past you, some grazing your armor, others too thick to avoid.

You laugh, the exhilaration of danger making your heart race. "Just a bit further!"

But Silverwing, despite her grace, is a creature of the sky, not the woods. A particularly thick branch catches you off guard, striking your side. You gasp, losing your grip. Silverwing tries to stabilize, but it’s too late.

"Y/N!" you hear someone shout, but the world spins as you tumble through the air, your body crashing through the foliage.

The ground rushes up to meet you, but instead of the hard earth, you find yourself landing against something softer and warmer. There’s a grunt, a thud, and then silence.

You blink, trying to regain your senses. Your eyes meet a pair of very familiar ones, wide with shock and framed by a mess of light auburn hair.

"Ser Gwayne?" you manage to say, your voice breathless. The realization hits you both at the same time – you’ve landed right in his arms, sending him off his horse. He’s on his back, staring up at you with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"Princess Y/N," he says, a slow grin spreading across his face despite the circumstances. "This is a rather unconventional way to reunite."

You quickly scramble off him, cheeks flushing. "I didn’t plan it this way, trust me."

Gwayne gets to his feet, offering you a hand. "I’d say you’re getting better at making dramatic entrances."

Before you can retort, the surrounding knights, led by Criston Cole, converge on you, their expressions a mix of shock and suspicion.

"Well, well," Criston says, eyeing you warily, "looks like we’ve caught ourselves a dragon princess."

You roll your eyes, dusting off your clothes. "Congratulations. Do I get a prize for being the most unexpected guest?"

Gwayne stifles a laugh, earning a sharp glance from Criston. "Secure her," Criston commands. "We can’t risk her getting away."

Gwayne steps closer, his eyes softening slightly. "I’ll take care of it."

You meet his gaze, something unspoken passing between you. He had been your suitor once, and now here you are, on opposite sides of a conflict neither of you had asked for.

"Try not to tie the ropes too tight, will you?" you quip, trying to lighten the mood. "I bruise easily."

He smirks, giving you a look that says he remembers more than he lets on. "I’ll do my best, Princess."

As the knights surround you, Silverwing roars above, finally breaking free from the canopy and circling protectively. The men look up nervously, but you know Silverwing won’t attack without your command.

"Easy, girl," you call up to her. "I’m fine."

Gwayne’s touch is gentle as he secures your hands, his fingers brushing against your skin longer than necessary. "We’ll keep you safe," he murmurs, so only you can hear. "I promise."

You nod, a mixture of gratitude and sadness filling your heart. "I know."

And so, surrounded by enemies and yet strangely comforted by an old friend, you find yourself a captive – but one who is far from defeated.

The knights form a loose circle around you as they lead you through the woods, heading in the direction of Duskendale. Silverwing continues to circle overhead, her shadow passing over the treetops, a constant reminder of the power you still wield, even as a captive.

"Call off your dragon, Princess," Criston Cole demands, his tone clipped with irritation. "We don’t need her burning the forest down around us."

You meet his gaze with a steady one of your own. "That’s not how it works, Ser Criston. Silverwing follows her own instincts. I can’t just call her off like a hunting hound."

Criston grunts, clearly dissatisfied with your answer, but he says nothing more, focusing on leading the group forward.

Gwayne stays close to your side, his presence a strange mix of comforting and disconcerting. You glance at him, catching the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Unfortunate, isn’t it?" he says after a moment, his voice low enough for only you to hear. "Your late father never approved of our match."

You give a dry laugh, shaking your head. "Probably for the better. I don’t fancy being locked up in a tower all my life."

Gwayne’s smile widens, genuine amusement in his eyes. "You think I’d lock you up in a tower? You clearly have no idea what kind of husband I would have been."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. "Oh? And what kind of husband would you have been, Ser Gwayne?"

"The kind who knows better than to try to change a dragon," he replies, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Besides, I value my life too much to cage something as fierce as you."

You chuckle softly, but the humor is short-lived as reality sinks in. "And yet, here we are. I’m chained, a captive to be killed or used as leverage against my sister."

Gwayne’s expression sobers, his eyes reflecting a mix of regret and resolve. "I wish it were different, Y/N. But these are the times we live in."

You sigh, looking up at Silverwing still soaring above. "Do you ever wonder, Gwayne, what might have been? If things had gone differently?"

He nods slowly, his gaze distant for a moment. "Every day. But wishing for the past won’t change the present. We can only deal with what’s in front of us."

"And what’s in front of us is a forest full of angry knights and a war that doesn’t seem to have an end," you say, a touch of bitterness in your voice.

Gwayne gives a soft laugh, the sound almost comforting. "At least you still have your sense of humor. It’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you."

You glance at him, surprised by his honesty. "And here I thought you only admired my dragon."

He smirks, shaking his head. "Silverwing is impressive, yes. But she’s nothing compared to you."

The compliment catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say. The knights continue to lead you through the forest, their voices a distant hum as you walk beside Gwayne, the man who once might have been your husband.

The journey to Duskendale stretches ahead, uncertain and fraught with danger. But for now, at least, you have an ally by your side, even if he is also your captor. And in these uncertain times, that might be the closest thing to hope you have.

The sky darkens as Criston Cole’s men set up camp, the forest growing quieter as the night settles in. You’re confined to a tent, albeit a comfortable one, considering your status as a prisoner. The air inside is warm, lit by a single lantern casting flickering shadows on the canvas walls.

You sit on a makeshift bed, your thoughts drifting between your current predicament and the distant roar of Silverwing, a constant reminder of your connection to the skies above. The flap of the tent rustles, and Gwayne steps inside, his expression unreadable.

"Comfortable?" he asks, his tone casual but his eyes searching.

You give him a wry smile. "As comfortable as one can be in captivity."

He chuckles softly, stepping closer. "Could be worse. Criston wanted to keep you in chains outside, but I insisted on more... humane accommodations."

You raise an eyebrow. "And why is that, Ser Gwayne? Still holding a soft spot for me?"

He sits down beside you, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I just know how to keep a dragon content without a fight."

You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth lift in a reluctant smile. "Still think you can tame me?"

Gwayne’s gaze locks onto yours, intense and unwavering. "I never wanted to tame you, Y/N. I wanted to be beside you, as equals."

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, the tension between you softens. You reach out, your fingers brushing against his. "And yet here we are, on opposite sides of a war."

"War or no war, some things don’t change," he murmurs, his hand wrapping around yours.

The air between you shifts, charged with unspoken words and lingering desires. Before you can second-guess yourself, you lean in, capturing his lips with yours. The kiss is urgent, fueled by the months of separation and the fear of an uncertain future.

Gwayne responds with equal fervor, his hands moving to release the binds on your wrists. As the ropes fall away, you bring your hands up to his chest, pulling him closer. His fingers fumble with the laces of your dragon riding attire, and you do the same with his armor, the urgency of your movements reflecting the intensity of your emotions.

"I missed this," he breathes against your lips, his hands sliding over your skin. "I missed you."

You shiver at his words, your own hands trembling as you help him undress. "I missed you too, Gwayne."

Clothing discarded, you pull him down onto the bed, your bodies pressed together in a desperate embrace. The warmth of his skin against yours is intoxicating, each touch sending sparks of desire through you.

Gwayne moves with practiced urgency, his hands guiding your hips as he enters you. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of relief and need that leaves you gasping. "Y/N," he groans, his forehead resting against yours. "I need you."

You wrap your legs around him, urging him deeper. "Then take me," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

Your movements become frantic, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. The world outside the tent fades away, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other. Your breath mingles with his, your bodies moving in perfect sync.

As you reach your peak, Silverwing's roar echoes above, a wild and powerful sound that mirrors the intensity of your release. You cling to Gwayne, your nails digging into his back as you ride out the waves of pleasure together.

For a moment, time stands still, the only sound your ragged breathing and the distant rumble of your dragon. Gwayne collapses beside you, his arms still wrapped around you, holding you close.

"I love you," he murmurs against your hair, his voice raw with emotion. "No matter what happens, remember that."

You press a kiss to his chest, your own heart aching with the weight of your situation. "I love you too, Gwayne."

In the quiet aftermath, you find solace in each other's arms, knowing that whatever the future holds, this moment is yours and yours alone.

The next day dawns gray and heavy with tension. Criston Cole is restless, urging his men to pack up and prepare for the march to Duskendale. You watch from the confines of your tent, the memory of the previous night with Gwayne still fresh in your mind, a bittersweet ache in your chest.

Silverwing circles above, her presence a constant reminder of your strength and the bond you share. Gwayne catches your eye from across the camp, and you see a flicker of resolve in his gaze. He looks up at Silverwing and then back at you, subtly nodding—a signal.

Your heart races as you understand his unspoken message. It’s now or never.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. As Criston and his men begin to move, you seize the moment. "Now," you whisper to yourself, breaking into a run.

Chaos erupts around you as Gwayne shouts, "Stop her!" But instead of joining the chase, he tackles Criston Cole to the ground, his body crashing into the other knight with surprising force.

Criston snarls, struggling under Gwayne's weight. "Hightower! What are you doing?"

"Giving her a fighting chance," Gwayne growls, pinning Criston down. "Get out of here, Y/N!"

The soldiers around you hesitate, torn between their orders and the unexpected fight unfolding between their leaders. Their momentary confusion is all the opportunity you need. You sprint towards the edge of the camp, your eyes fixed on Silverwing above.

"Come on, girl!" you shout, waving your arms. Silverwing roars in response, descending swiftly and landing with a thunderous impact.

You reach her just as the soldiers begin to recover from their shock. Hands grab at you, but you twist away, your foot finding purchase on Silverwing’s saddle. With practiced ease, you haul yourself up, securing the straps around your legs.

Silverwing launches into the air, her powerful wings beating the ground, sending dust and leaves swirling. Below, Gwayne glances up, meeting your eyes one last time. In that fleeting moment, a promise passes between you—a promise of love, loyalty, and hope for a future that might still be yours.

"Go!" Gwayne shouts, struggling to his feet as Criston shoves him off. "Fly, Y/N!"

You nod, your throat tight with emotion. "Thank you, Gwayne."

With a final roar, Silverwing rises above the treetops, carrying you away from the camp and towards freedom. The wind whips through your hair as you steer her towards Dragonstone, the ache in your chest both a reminder of your captivity and the bond that now holds you and Gwayne together, despite the distance and the war.

As you fly, you cast one last look back, seeing Gwayne standing tall amidst the chaos, his eyes following you until you disappear into the horizon. It’s a silent vow that this isn’t the end—that you will find each other again.

For now, you focus on the path ahead, the promise of Dragonstone and the fight for your family fueling your determination. Silverwing’s powerful wings carry you onwards, each beat a testament to your resilience and the unbreakable devotion that ties you to those you love.

As Silverwing's silhouette fades into the distance, Gwayne braces himself for the inevitable confrontation. Criston Cole stands, brushing off the dirt from his armor, his eyes blazing with fury. The camp buzzes with confusion and tension, soldiers whispering and exchanging uneasy glances.

Cole's voice cuts through the murmurs like a knife. "What in the seven hells were you thinking, Hightower?"

Gwayne straightens, meeting Criston's glare with unwavering resolve. "I did what I thought was right."

Criston's nostrils flare, and he steps closer, his voice low and dangerous. "You let a valuable prisoner escape. Rhaenyra’s sister, no less. Do you have any idea what this means for us?"

"I do," Gwayne replies calmly. "But I also know what it means to treat people with honor. She wasn’t some bargaining chip to be used at will."

Cole’s eyes narrow, and he steps forward, closing the distance between them until they are almost nose to nose. "Honor? This is war, Gwayne. Honor gets you killed."

"Maybe," Gwayne retorts, his voice steady. "But it also makes you worth remembering. Y/N is no ordinary prisoner. She’s a dragon rider, a princess. Treating her like a common captive would only fuel more hatred and violence."

Criston shakes his head, incredulous. "You’re a fool if you think she’ll spare us any mercy. The moment she’s back with Rhaenyra, she’ll come for our heads."

Gwayne squares his shoulders, refusing to back down. "Perhaps. But at least I can live with myself knowing I didn’t betray everything we once stood for. We were knights of honor once, Criston. Have you forgotten that?"

Criston’s face contorts with rage, and for a moment, Gwayne thinks he might draw his sword. Instead, Criston takes a deep breath, visibly struggling to control his temper. "You’ve jeopardized our mission, and for what? Sentiment?"

Gwayne holds his ground, his voice unwavering. "For what’s right. You may not understand now, but one day, you might."

Criston’s eyes flash with a mix of anger and something else—perhaps a flicker of respect and understanding. "This isn't over, Gwayne. Not by a long shot. You’ll answer for this."

"I already have," Gwayne says quietly. "And I’m prepared to face the consequences."

Criston turns away, signaling for the camp to resume its activities. "Get ready to move out!" he barks to the soldiers. "We’ve wasted enough time here."

As the camp stirs back into motion, Gwayne watches, his mind replaying the look in Y/N’s eyes as she flew to freedom. Despite the threat of retribution hanging over him, he feels a strange sense of peace. He has made his choice, and he would make it again a hundred times over.

One of the soldiers approaches, hesitant. "Ser Gwayne, what should we do now?"

Gwayne sighs, feeling the weight of his decision settling on his shoulders. "We follow orders," he says, his voice firm. "We march to Duskendale and prepare for what comes next."

As the camp prepares to move, Gwayne allows himself a moment of reflection. He finds strength in the memory of Y/N’s freedom and the promise they silently shared.

Whatever the future holds, he will face it with the knowledge that he did what was right—not just for himself, but for the woman he loves and the honor he still believes in.

[daydaydayrk420]

Shorty

Logan Howlett (Wolverine) X male reader

⚠️size difference, bottom Logan, top reader, Logan is 5'3 like in the comics, outside sex⚠️

🚨 Minors and girls do not interact 🚨

Y/sp/n = superhero name

______________________________________________________________

Logan may not seem like it. But he's 5'3. Yes. 160 cm. You read that correctly. He's the shortest one of the X-men. But he doesn't mind. He's got cool claws that like to cut the flesh of annoying people.

Speaking of annoying. Here's y/n y/l/n. Also know as y/sp/n. Or as Logan calls him. Dick.

Y/n is currently in the large garden of the Xavier mansion. All of the kids and teachers are out in a museum. Besides y/n and Logan. Conveniently.

"Hey, shorty." Y/n smirks as he sees Logan walking up to him. Logan huffs in response. "Don't be like that." The taller man teased and ruffled the smaller man's perfect cat ears hair.

"hey!" Logan smacks the hand away and tries to fix his hair. Y/n chuckles and looks at the ducks on the lake. Logan sits next to him and also watches the ducks.

"It's weird being in school without the kids." The shorter man said. The taller man nods and leans back. "But it's peaceful."

"What should we do? We have the whole school for ourselves." Y/n asked as he looked behind himself at the mansion. Logan shrugs and looks at y/n.

Suddenly the shorter man's mind starts to spin with not so family friendly thoughts. "I might have a few ideas... But they're not really built for school." He mumbled with a hit of a growl in his voice.

The taller man looks at him. "Oh?" He doesn't get a chance to guess what Logan's ideas might be before the smaller man straddles his thighs and catches his lips in a hungry kiss.

Y/n moans In surprise and grips Logan's thighs to hold him in place. Soon, his eyes flutter closed, and his body leans into Logan's.

Their minds race. Partly because of the adrenaline but also because of the size difference. Logan is so small in y/n's lap. Sure, he's hairier and more masculine, but he's so easy to hold. He's not easy to lift. Y/n doesn't even try to move Logan because the way his legs are growing numb under the adamantium weights tells him enough not to bother.

"So small." The taller man breathed out into Logan's neck as he enjoyed the way his arms wrapped around Logan so easily.

"Fuck you," Logan grunts as he reaches for y/n's belt. "You're about to." The taller man said with a smirk. Logan groans in annoyance but lifts to remove his pants. Y/n chuckles and takes himself out of his pants and strokes it. He spreads his precum down the shaft as he watches the shorter man with hunger.

"Look at you. Already leaking and I haven't even touched it yet." Logan scoffed and sat back in the taller man's lap.

Y/n immediately latched onto Logan's neck and used his second hand to stroke the shorter man's dick. Who, by the way, is packing.

The shorter man groans and tangles his fingers in the other man's hair. "So fucking eager aren't you."

Y/n continued to furiously stroke both of them off as he marked Logan's neck, which immediately healed. But he keeps trying anyway. Maybe one will stay. Logan only groans and tugs at the taller man's hair.

Eventually, Logan grows impatient and pushes y/n onto the grass. The taller man grunts with the landing but doesn't complain when Logan lines up with his dick. Instead, he rests his big hands on Logan's thighs. Which are big with muscle but y/n's hand still covers most of it.

The shorter man sinks down. They both groan in pleasure. "holy shit Logan you're tight." Y/n grunts and digs his nails into Logan's thighs.

Logan lets out a deep breath once he is fully seated. He takes some time to relax and get used to being filled after so long. Y/n whines and thrusts up. Which makes Logan lose balance and fall on the taller man's chest. He wanted to scold him and sit up again, but long arms wrapped around him and held him in place.

The taller man buried his face in the shorter man's hair and started thrusting up into him. Logan digs his claws into the dirt on each side of y/n. He kisses and bites the taller man's shoulder to muffle his moans.

Y/n plants his feet into the grass for better leverage to thrust up. With the way y/n's thrusting, it makes Logan's knees weak.

None of them talk, they can barely form a word. The taller man keeps his arms tightly wrapped around the shorter man. While Logan flights the urge to bite into y/n's shoulder, and y/n shamelessly digs his nails into the smaller man.

They both moan into each other's skin and shake with pleasure. "I'm close." Logan whines. And fuck if that didn't want y/n to want to do everything that would let him hear it again. So he tries to angle his hips. Spot on. He finds the right spot that makes Logan whine none stop.

"Fuck fuck fuck." Logan bites down on y/n's shoulder. The taller man screams out and spills deep into Logan. The shorter man whimpered and spilled over their shirts. Y/n hold Logan tighter as they catch their breath.

"We should do this again," y/n murmured. Logan grunts. "In your dreams..."

[genderqueerdykes]

i'm going to continue talking about what trans men experience and transandrophobia until we finally break the silence forced upon transmasculine people and trans men. we are no longer tolerating being invisible, pushed aside, mocked, abandoned, disrespected, questioned, harassed, and denied the right to be addressed correctly with respect and grace.

trans men and mascs are going to exist no matter how hard you try to deny our identities, or abuse us out of them. there will always be transmascs and men no matter how hard you try to prevent us from talking about it, publicly sharing our identities, or finding community. no matter what, trans men and mascs will always be here and it's best to just let us carve out spaces for each other because trying to silence us permanently isn't working.

we are trans. we are queer. our masculinity and manhood is not a threat to you. we are not inherently dangerous. we are not "ruining our bodies with testosterone". we're not confused. we're not stepping on trans women's and transfemme's toes when we create spaces for ourselves and talk about our issues. we're not taking resources away from other queer people.

we need resources, too. just because someone is a man or masc does not mean they will have an easy time making a lot of money. it's still hard for transmascs in transition to find well paying, stable jobs. workplace discrimination still exists- "female" deadnames and F markers are still going to get in the way- especially now that they know you are trans. intersex trans men struggle to have our identities addressed correctly. workplaces can still fire trans people for them being trans, especially in states where at-will employment is in place. they can claim they fired you for one reason, but it was really because you are trans.

policing the verbiage and identities of transmascs and men is not going to make us stop identifying with them. trans men are allowed to call ourselves trannies- we are trannies. we're allowed to call ourselves dykes and butches and lesbians. we're allowed to have multiple genders, including being women, without that invalidating our masculinity and/or manhood. we're allowed to be and dress femme. we are allowed to choose whether or not HRT and surgery is right for us.

regardless of how much someone hates these things- they're still going to happen. you can tell us that we can't be "real men" or that we can't be wholly or partially women, genderfluid, closeted, detrans, non binary, genderqueer, butches, femmes, dykes, lesbians, or sapphic- but we're still going to be those things anyway.

resistance won't make us go away- it just makes us angrier, and it makes us fight harder for our rights, and the rights of our brothers, siblings, partners, husbands, fathers, relatives, and every transmasc and man out there.

[simp4konig]

"You drive me crazy."

Obsessed! Nikto x Reader

Word count: 2472

Nikto's POV! Sporadic uses of "Y/N" — otherwise, reader is referred as "You".

To say that Nikto is obsessed with you would be an understatement 😵‍💫...

Nikto's psychological state gradually deteriorates as you read!

Google Translate Russian lmao 💀,, please forgive any errors! 😟

Edit: Realising that this fic is darker than my usual works. Warning my readers for darker content!

Edit 2: Added the appropriate "dark content" tags. <3

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I'm crazy: I don't think I needed to say, yes?

I know it. We know it. Everyone else knows it.

I've lost my mind long ago. We're losing it as we speak. I've lost myself long ago and I have not known what to do with ourselves.

Of course, not all was lost. I was cleared for service. I can approach situations without hesitation or uncertainty — but most importantly, kill methodically.

All I need are targets. Just give me targets. Nothing else matters. Nobody.

But I found you. I found you. And you found us. Although there was nothing to find, you found us.

How? It's a mystery. An enigma. An unsolvable puzzle.

My name is Igor. Igor Vasilyevich Yurievich.

Игорь. Igor. I—gor. Two syllables. Four letters, in English. A not so common name in Russia, according to the statistics: in 1991 — the year of my birth — approximately 37 baby boys born were named as such. In 2021, only 17 baby boys born were named Igor. I would assume the number declines each year — maybe less than a dozen Igors were christened this year. Or a single digit. Nine. Eight. Seven. Or even less than five.

October 13, 1991 was my exact date of birth. I was born in Novgorod, when Russia was still the Soviet Union. I had parents. A sister…

…Yet that means nothing to me.

Igor Vasilyevich Yurievich? That is foreign. That is not anyone that I know of. I am Nikto. I am no one. Nobody to know, yet somebody that I know of. Not this… Igor. I am nobody. Никто.

When the voices are quiet, that's when I can silently mourn the man that I once was.

Though, can you mourn someone whom you don't know? Can you mourn the faceless person in the casket, whose face is unrecognisable? Can you mourn at a funeral that no one attended, and hadn't taken process?

I'm crazy: I don't think I needed to repeat it, yes?

I knew it. We knew it. Everyone else knew it.

But you didn't. You. You.

You… remind me of someone.

They're dead now.

They were just a target. Too bad I can't remember who they were.

But you're not. You're more than a target.

You treated me with kindness when everyone avoided me like the bubonic plague. A Black Death following the death of the former Igor Vasilyevich Yurievich and the black, black blackness lingering — a reminder. But not anything that allows us to remember, or reminds us of who we once were.

I don't remember anything. I don't remember anyone. Photographs of my family before the torture are irrelevant. Documents stamping my existence could just as easily make us inexistent. Nobody exists any more aside from Nikto.

A cacophony of voices has infiltrated my brain. Our brain. We will never be me anymore. We are who we are now.

I am a broken man. I hear the voices of many men, who won't let me sleep, won't leave me be, won't give me peace. I was one of those men. Maybe all of the men are me?

But if all of them are me, and I am all of them, then who are we? What are we?

Then again… who I am is nothing. What I are is everything. What we are — crazy.

The pieces of the puzzle aren't fully there. Surely you must have been aware, my treasure?

You were doing your due diligence to arrange the puzzle pieces, so meticulously and with dedication, devoting hours of your time and wishing for the finished product to be cohesive, but you won't find that within us. How unfortunate.

Some of the pieces are missing. Some of them don't even fit. What you're left with is an incomplete picture — one which will never be completed.

No matter. You can be the missing puzzle piece, yes?

My fellow operatives named me Никто — “Nikto”, meaning “Nobody” or “No-one” in Russian — for… what did they say? My “uncanny ability to replicate other people and hide [my] true identity”? Ironic — seeing as replicating an identity is not the same as claiming your own, and being an individual. Having an actual identity, as opposed to being forced to think that being nobody can suffice.

Funny. I was apparently religious before all of this.

Have you heard of Orthodox Christianity? It's a branch of Christianity most often practised in Eastern Europe, in case you weren't aware. Orthodox Christians believe that Jesus redeemed humanity by sacrificing himself through crucifixion — unlike Catholics, who believe that Jesus sacrificing himself through crucifixion was all in an effort to redeem humanity.

Perhaps I was an altar boy in my childhood. Or wore a cross around my neck. Maybe I was devoted, and prayed in the morning, before a meal for grace, in the night, before a mission for mercy, during a mission out of desperation, and after a mission as gratitude.

Such bullshit.

Obviously, God doesn't exist — not in the ethereal, omniscient sense.

Oh no.

The God is You. You are my God.

Just like with Orthodox Christianity, and the salvation of humanity after the sacrifice of Jesus, your presence, your mere existence, was salvation. You brought redemption unto us.

Of course, following my torture, God became an abstract concept. How could the Holy Father abandon me? How could my prayers after the tortue be so wilfully ignored? Why would he actively play a passive role in my damnation, as I'm burned, as I'm beaten, as I'm bruised, abused, cut, and mutilated?

No one was born a sinner. Not even me, this nobody. So what kind of retribution was this — a disfigured face, ruined body, and voices which infiltrated my psyche, words equivalent to the evil of the Antichrist?

But You? You made it worthwhile. Your kindness. Compassion. Charity. It was all worthwhile. Even to gaze at You from afar.

Well.

For the most part.

We have repented for our sins: stealing Your dirty laundry, Your hairbrush, Your t-shirts, and other trinkets which we deem Holy Relics; using Your lip balm without permission, You none the wiser; committing sinful acts in the comfort of your own bedroom, only for You to return, oblivious. We apologise for that nagging paranoia, demanding You to turn around, to catch a glimpse of the eyes staring at You, but You not noticing us when we were camouflaged in the shadows. For stalking You and learning Your schedule. For hacking into all of Your devices and acquiring every little piece of information available from Your digital footprints.

But, You forgive us, yes?

Don't look so horrified, dushka. We left no trace, yes? No evidence. You said You have forgiven all of our transgressions. Think of this as a confession, nothing more. Besides, we never tampered with You belongings. They're all still with us. Just like you will.

You are our oxygen. Without You, we can't breathe. Our lungs suffocate without Your natural scent to fill them, to keep us alive. Our eyes go blind with time without the sight of Your face, Your body. We can't hear anything other than Your voice — our ears tune out any frequencies and wavelengths that don't leave those pretty little lips, yet wage civil war amongst ourselves, spitting curses that cut like knives and pierce like bullets. And Your lips. And Your eyes. And Your eyebrows, hair, hands, neck, God — everything.

You won't abandon us, yes? You wouldn't abandon us, would you, мое сокровище? You are our treasure. I treasure you — all of us do: your pretty little lips, that speak in the softest of tones to us; those eyes that stare in slight fright, yet crinkle in as genuine of a smile as you can manage; those eyebrows that furrow over your bright eyes in the subtlest of frowns, in sorrow or frustration, maybe vexation — and that's just your face. What about your hair? Your hands? Your neck? Your body? What is there not to treasure?

Боже мой, Bozhe moy, my God. Oh God, it's as if an angel has descended and granted us salvation, a merciful deity absolving us of our sins and cleansing our soul. And both the angel and deity are You — working in perfect sync, so benevolent and forgiving, taking pity on a creature so pitiful, so ruined, so unfixable.

We can't remember what some of those was.

Those puzzle pieces, of course.

Zakhaev’s torture stole some of the pieces to the jigsaw, and the puzzle won't ever be solved. We ourselves interrogate, torture, eliminate, kill. Sometimes we dissociate. Other times I am completely in control. Yet all the time, we are committing sins, sins, sins.

And You forgive them. Forgive us.

Every prayer is us praying for you, to you, about you. And each one concludes with your sacred name, whispered in hushed tones as the syllables are too precious to utter out loud.

Poor, poor thing. You probably didn't even know what you were signing up for, did you? You probably intended to be charitable. Sympathetic. And you were, sweet one.

But you were naive to have assumed that we wouldn't become possessive of you like an unwanted stay mutt of its only bone. So innocent — perhaps stupid — but we like to think that you were misguided in your intentions, yet guided by some God.

An ignorant God? If You're the God to worship, then are You an ignorant one? An innocent, naive, and unconditionally loving one? Yet, one that, despite Their obliviousness, can knowingly soothe with a simple string of words? With a caress?

What an oxymoron. It suits You. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Aw. Are those tears, dushka? Let's wipe them, hmm? Kiss it better, yes? You will like our lips on you.

Don't scream. Don't hurt those vocal cords. We like the sound of your voice. We want you to talk.

There there, little one. You look beautiful when you cry, but you look most beautiful when you're smiling. Smile, hm? Do it for us. Your Nikto.

You don't have to be afraid, you know. Don't be afraid, krasotka. We love you.

Here, put your hand on our chest. Feel how our heart is beating? It beats only for you.

Our abdomen, our stomach. You feel how toned that is, yes? You feel the muscle?

What about our biceps? The strength in our forearms? They're all for you. We're all yours, yours yours yours.

Our blood looks good on you, dushka. The blood really accentuates your nails. But please, stop. Stop.

You don't have to scratch us, or scream. You know that none of that will change anything. You know that we will love you, even if you tell us you hate us. It's too late.

Get used to touching us, yes? What's left of us, anyways. Yes, our body won't be the most appealing, or the handsomest, but it's all for you. Every inch. All for you — just like how you are all ours.

You're ours, just as much as we belong to you. You could stab us with a knife and we'd smile. You could shoot us with a gun point-blank in the head and we'd thank you. What an honour it would be to live with you by your side, or die by your side. We're a dead man either way. Your dead man. Your Nikto.

You underestimated my capacity for violence. Or were perhaps too naive to understand it.

That's okay. Put your hand on my face. Just like that. See? Nothing to fear. It's just us. Your Nikto.

I can feel it shaking. Why do you shake so much, hm? Don't be afraid. There's nothing to be afraid of. You should know there's nothing to be afraid of. After all, you were fearless when it came to speaking to me, and weren't afraid to reach out to us. Surely you don't want to abandon us now?

That's too bad. You won't abandon us. We won't let you.

I'm crazy: I don't think I need to repeat it, yes?

I know it. We know it. Everyone else knows it.

You drive me crazy.

You drive me crazy.

You drive me crazy.

So crazy.

So, so crazy.

I am already crazy yes but it is You who drives me to insanity do You know that? Why do You deny? Do not deny us this yes? Yes You do know that it is You who makes me mad beyond return of course You do You've always known it and You know it now little one You're just pretending feigning ignorance with surprise in Your eyes. Why pretend that it was all a pretense? Your kindness? Your sympathy? Your company? It was not pretense to us no it was everything. Everything we could have hoped for prayed for and lived for.

You drive me crazy.

You drive me crazy.

You drive me crazy.

So crazy.

So, so crazy, baby.

Craaazyyy. Crazy crazy crazy!

You have made us the craziest we have ever been from the moment we met Your eyes and will be forever driven crazier with Your around from the day You die. And that won't be anytime now, my treasure. We will treasure You, take care of You, keep You safe. You will want for nothing, we can assure You — nothing, nobody, no one. Only Nikto. Nobody will ever look at You, as their eyeballs will be gouged out for having the audacity to spare a glance at the pinnacle of perfection. And nobody will ever want You, nobody will taint that precious skin with unworthy fingers, as anyone who tries will have them broken have their bones crushed to dust their skin muscles and tendons ripped to ribbons until there is no body left.

Nobody will ever look at You. Only Nikto. Us. Forever, and ever, and ever and ever and ever we will have our eyes on You until our retinas dissolve and our pupils can no longer absorb light and we become blind and crippled, crying, crying crying crying for You, crying only for You. You crying out for us until Your voice is hoarse from moaning, until our name becomes a prayer just as much as Yours is to us.

We love You. Think of nobody. Only Nikto. Only of Nikto. Only for and against Nikto. We will live for You. We do already, do you understand? We're yours. Yours. Yours yours yours yours yours yours to have yours to hit yours to scratch with those nails yours to scream at yours yours yours yours yours. Yours. Yours! Yours!

Yours!

Y/N.

I'm crazy: I don't think I needed to say, yes?

I know it. We know it. Everyone else knows it. You should have known it.

And if you didn't know it, then You will know it.

Because You drive me crazy.

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A/Ns

Really really really Really REALLY had doubts about posting this and thought that no one would like it. I felt inspired and happy and proud of myself when I was almost finished but it took me days to conclude the work since I was second-guessing whether or not I should post this after all. Kind of embarrassed, in all honesty, but I decided to post it in the end since I quite like it. :'>

I just wanted to highlight your, @//connorsui, lovely, lovely words when you reblogged my last Nikto post 😭😭😭💘💘💘. To receive not only some compliments, but your thoughts on my headcanons AND analysis *AND* your evaluation of my post was so, SO heartwarming to wake up to in the morning 🥹🥹🥹💓💓💓, especially when it was so long!!! Like, what?!! 😢😢😢😢😢😿😿😿😿😿😭😭😭😭😭💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💖💖💖💖💖✨✨✨✨✨

Thank you so so so SO much for your positive feedback !!! I've read it over four times by now. O really appreciated and still appreciate it. ☺️💞🫶💖✨✨💕💕

(I also want to kiss Nikto's scarred face ☹️☹️☹️ just wordless acts of intimacy where words aren't necessary and just to show the man some affection, regardless of how he looks 😟💝 need that ugly traumatised Russian man SO BAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭)

Inspiration for this gained from:

thisvvv song!!! and Chapter 7 in Metro 2035 lol,, when Artyom was drunk and disorientated I thought it was written really REALLY well and I wanted to incorporate his meaningless drivel into this.

Nikto's voicelines and his various voices/sporadic changes in character

the Fandom Wiki

my own headcanons lol 😋

From fluff this whatever the fuck this is!!!!!!!!!! Hope you enjoyed 💗💗