#lighten their blows

[ailithnight]

Just gonna save these tags from OP cause they are

Gut Feeling

DPXDC

Commissioner Jim Gordon meets an odd kid in the precinct.

--

“Come on, you really don’t have a way to directly contact Batman?”

Jim smiled. Kids came to the station and asked that all the time. Usually, it was just curiosity and showing them the signal was enough to get them to sign up for the Junior Police program. This one looked a little older than most, teenagers were often “too old” to believe in Batman, but again, give them a little faith now and they’ll never loose it.

“Lookin’ for the Bat, kid?” Jim asked, knowing he was about to make this kid’s –

Jim froze. The kid turned to face him and it was Bruce Wayne. Not playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, but freshly a teenager Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne who Jim had checked in on time and again from age eight until he ran off on a globetrotting trip to find himself. The little Bruce Wayne with too pale skin and dark bags under his eyes, and not enough love to make up for all the grief weighing him down. And he didn’t look like Damian either, where Bruce was obviously his father but there were distinct traits from his mother. This was a carbon copy of a boy Jim remembered vividly.

“I am.” He even sounded like teenage Bruce. All business, like he was on a mission.

“I might be able to help you, but it’ll take a while.” Jim said and the officer the kid had been talking too gave him an odd look. He waved her off and told the kid to follow him to the commissioner’s office. Normally, he’d be more dramatic, put on more of a show for the kid, but his gut told him this was different, this was important. He offered the kid a styrofoam cup of water then closed the door behind him. “So, what do you need to talk to Batman for?”

“It’s personal. I need to talk to him in person.”

Jim took a sip of coffee from his cup. “He doesn’t appreciate me calling for no reason in the middle of the day.”

“So you do have a direct line?” The kid nearly jumped out of his seat. “If he’s upset, it’ll be my fault, just call him, please.”

“Who should I say wants to talk to him?”

The kid hesitated. “He doesn’t know me, but I have to talk to him.”

Jim frowned. “What’s your name, kid?”

He swallowed and looked like he wasn’t going to answer for a moment. “Danny.”

“Danny…?” Jim wanted a last name but Danny kept quiet. Jim sighed, “He’s likely not going to show up until sundown.”

“I can wait, as long as you guarantee he’ll show.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why you need Batman?” Jim just got a glare in response. “What about one of the other heroes?”

“Only Batman, no one else can help.”

“You sure about that? Not even Superman?”

“Not unless Superman can get me in the same room as Batman.”

“Why’s it so important that you meet him in person?”

“It’s personal.”

Jim liked this less and less by the minute. “Do your parents know you’re here?”

Danny looked away but right when it looked like he wouldn’t say anything he mumbled. “They wouldn’t care anyway.”

After another moment to give the kid time to reconsider, Jim pulled out the Bat-phone. It was a normal Wayne-Tech cell phone, but Jim had been given very specific instructions on how and when to use it. The phone listed all the Gotham Vigilantes without visible numbers so they couldn’t be copied and handed out. He pressed the one for Batman.

“Stand outside, would you?” The kid gave him a look, but followed the request. Jim could see his shadow in the door’s window, not so subtle eavesdropping.

It rang a few times, and Jim sat there awkwardly with a teenager listening to his every move. Finally, a familiar voice picked up the other end of the line. “Commissioner Gordon.”

“Sorry to call you out of the blue Batman, but I’ve got a kid here who needs your help.”

“Who?”

“Says his name is Danny, that you’ve never met him but you’re the only one who can help him.”

“Why?”

“Refuses to tell me.”

“What’s your best guess, Commissioner?”

Jim looked at Danny’s shadow, it looked like he was straining his ears to try and hear what he was saying. Danny had given him almost nothing to work with. Just his name, that he’s never met Batman but needs to talk with him in person. But Jim was here because he listened to his gut. A feeling like when you see a random rock on your neighbor’s doorstep but you’d never go in without an invitation. A feeling like you know what’s in the present and are preparing your surprised face. A feeling like when you cheated on your wife and you know she knows.

“He looks like Bruce Wayne.”

A beat of silence. “What?”

“Danny looks exactly like Bruce when he was a teenager. Exactly the same.” Jim hoped Batman would get it, feel in his gut what Jim felt.

“And he wont say why he’s there?”

“No, and he demands to see you in person.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

“10-4.” The line cut off before Jim had finished saying it. He called Danny in again. “He’s on his way.”

Danny glared at him. “If he’s not, if you called some social worker or something, you’ll regret it.”

“I’m sure.” Jim sighed and downed the rest of his now cold coffee.

The sun hadn’t set, but only just barely. Jim ended up taking Danny up to the roof in the end after all, if only to save his window from being broken into. The kid had a red hoodie on, but he was still shivering in the autumn chill and it was just going to get colder by the minute as the sun made its way behind the horizon.

Jim checked his watch and, at exactly an hour from when he called, he acted surprised when Batman and Robin appeared out of nowhere. “Bats.”

“Commissioner.” Batman greeted but his eyes went straight for Danny. “Danny, I assume.”

“Yeah, I…” Danny hesitated, looking at Jim and Robin.

All it took was four words from Batman. “What do you need?”

The kid held out his hand with a flash drive in it. “I’m your clone. My par- The people who made me wanted to make a stronger version of you, but they got ahead of themselves. My DNA is degrading and I’ll die if I don’t get your DNA to stabilize me.”

Holy cow.

“You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?” Robin sneered at him.

“The flash drive has all the info on it. All the data about the cloning process and the, uh, relevant experiments after that.” Batman gave the kid a look. “I didn’t want to waste time on unnecessary data.”

“If what you’re saying is true, why are you here, alone? Are they working on a different solution?”

Danny’s shoulders hiked up. “I’ve been a failure for a while now, I’m not worth the resources and they’d learn more from an autopsy.”

Oof, kid. Jim looked at Batman who seemed to feel the same… if Jim was reading him right.

“So, you wont object to a DNA test?” Robin asked with a cocky head tilt, at least he was relatively easy to read.

“You can try.” Danny said, and then realized what that sounded like. “I mean I wont stop you, but my DNA degrades faster outside my body. You’ll have to take me to whatever lab you plan on using.”

“Then we will.” Batman said and jerked his head towards where they’d probably parked that ridiculous car of his. But then he looked at Jim with a nod. “Commissioner.”

“Batman.” Jim returned the nod. “You’ll tell me how things turn out, yeah?”

“I’ll give you a report.” Batman joked – Jim could tell, it was gut feeling.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

starting reading through the original 60's x men comics and just found out that we first meet cain on the same day that Magneto gets abducted by the stranger. Charles really lost his ex boyfriend potentially forever and then before he can even cry it out in private his terrible brother comes out of no where.

no wonder he starts trauma dumping

its actually the funniest shit imaginable LMAO charles xavier has never had a break in his life

[lord-aldhelm]

Lord Aldhelm and Lord Aethelred | The Last Kingdom 2.06

[stuck-in-jelly]

I love when life presents you with what is very clearly a horror/thriller movie plot line because I can just go “no thank you!” And get into my car and leave

[yilian0203]

"I look ridiculous! "

"Awww believe me, Hei Lao Ge, you look adorable!!! "

"In my dictionary, adorable means ridiculous."

Bonus of these cuties:

[moongothic]

On the train of your last ask, what are your thoughts on dragons sexuality?

Personally I think he’s Demi something (more attracted to personality than looks or gender)

Honestly because we don't know that much about the guy it's kind of hard for me to form an opinion, and if Crocodad Real then we're going to find out his orientation eventually (since we gotta find out if that was a contributing factor to the Dragodile Divorce (assuming they're divorced)) so I'm kind of okay with not forming any headcanons, since the headcanon could get thrown out the window

If anything, what interests me is how Dragon's orientation could impact the story-- like when I've discussed the Dragodile Divorce I have mainly focused on speculating how Crocodile would've felt about it, but how Dragon felt about that is interesting too

Because if he's straight then yeah that probably contributed to The Divorce, but how did Dragon feel about it? Learning that the love of his life is now happier than ever before after transitioning and being happy for him, while also losing the version of Crocodile that he fallen in love to begin with? No longer feeling thet draw to him because of the thing that has brought him so much joy and comfort? Knowing that even if they did take down the WG the family Dragon had hoped to have would never come to be, because their relationship would now end? And that it would be on some level his fault, because he's not attracted to Crocodile anymore?

Like even if Dragon took things well and the divorce happened "on good terms", it would've been sad for Dragon too.

But then there's a slightly juicier option, because what if Dragon was bi, but the Divorce happened under unpleasant circumstances (be it Dragon lashing out or things getting violent because he couldn't recognize Crocodile) and he didn't figure it out until it was too late?

Because you'd still have Dragon going through some if not all of those previously mentioned feelings, of having to come to terms with the version of his significant other whom he had fallen in love with no longer existed, the family had pictured in his mind would never become a thing, that those things were be kind of his fault and that he had hurt Crocodile deeply in the process. But then he'd be looking at some news article of Crocodile's most recent heroic stunt, seeing his handsome face with that usual, unbothered expression, and realizing he still loved him? That he still wanted to be with him, wished they were together, even now that Crocodile was a far more handsome man than he was? And then the realization that he's bi hitting him like a fucking truck But it's too late. The divorce already happened. He already hurt Crocodile too deeply. Knowing Croc, he had probably already moved on. There was no fixing it, the relationship was over. At least for now, trying to go see Croc could be dangerous due to the WG and not wanting to risk the WG finding out about them and The Kid and Croc would probably be furious if Dragon even risked that at this point, after what he had done. Oh, and then Crocodile killed thousands of innocent people attempting to usurp a country by manufacturing a civil war. Something Dragon can't forgive. (Not to mention, hearing he had been taken down by their own son... Oof)

But what if despite all that, and not knowing the full circumstances behind what had happened (like the fact that Crocodile didn't know who the hell Luffy was), Dragon still loved Crocodile? What then?

[faunandfloraas]

crazy storm outside so i really should unplug the computer... but turning a stack of images into a gif is so compelling rn..........

[unproduciblesmackdown]

blade gunnblade !!!!!!!!

via eliza simpson:

There are no words for this true warrior. They kill me. MMM: went in for a post show hug. Me:"ow!" Asia: "oh sorry, that's my bullet necklace." 😳........ 😍

[the-acid-pear]

Socializing is a constant war 4 me in between wanting to just be myself but also trying to do what others do which often means imitating them to a T bc otherwise I feel like I'm not doing enough and I'm falling behind and low-key that if I do so then I bring nothing to the table therefore can be easily replaced but shhhh 🤫 don't tell this to anyone guys I'm still a sigma who experienced no trauma at all

[qtubbo]

(Unrelated to any gender you assign to it, I fully mean style/presentation)

[liefdesleven]

the issue with the books i read is that 90% of the time its not a fun pre-sleeping book. the other 10% its discworld

[badolmen]

He knew he was going to die.

It was something you only understood if you had died before. He had - briefly, long ago, revived by a beloved friend and his magic. The revival he didn’t remember as clearly as death. The growing dimness of the world, the warm ache of organs slowly failing. The way he felt now was familiar, and he took comfort in that.

His beloved couldn’t bring him back this time. For all their magic they couldn’t bring themself back. That’s why he started this damn quest - to find someone who could.

That’s why he was dying, alone in a cold dungeon; tricked by the castle’s lord who promised aid only to proffer treachery instead.

His breathing was growing shallow, wounds deep and hands numb with cold. Soon. Very soon he might see his beloved’s face again. How disappointed he would be with him. But he would be forgiven, he knew he would be.

He hoped he would be.

The skittering sound in the shadows could have been rats, waiting for the mangled man to be more palatable with decay. But it was something else - a small lockbox, hardly the size of his hand, squirming on uneven legs to sit in the open.

He would have laughed if he could draw a breath deep enough to do so. What a weak mimic. Nothing like the cruel and powerful warlock that had brought him so close to death and left him to rot in this dungeon. It skittered closer, lid slightly ajar - just enough for him to see it’s pinprick teeth.

“Hungry?” He voice was raspy, the stony walls echoing it back to him. The mimic froze, lid screwing shut as it teetered on unsteady, half formed imitation legs. “Here, I’m not gonna use these anyway.”

The rations from his bag were meager but pristine - he rarely had a need to rely on stale bread and hard cheese when taverns and game offered far tastier choices. His shaking hands tossed the ration bag toward the mimic, the creature squelching as it scrambled back to the shadows as though it excepted a blow.

Slowly, painfully slowly it crept back to the center of the room. Flickering torch light illuminated its drool slicked teeth as it snatched the bread and ran off, disappearing into the recesses of the dark, damp dungeon.

One last kind act. He could rest easy with that.

—

He didn’t expect to wake up. Not considering the state he was in when he had dozed off - bloodied and bruised and feeling the cold, steady hand of death squeeze his heart.

“What?” He croaked, voice too loud in the silent dungeon. There was an empty glass vial beside him - shattered, remnants of the red liquid that it once held staining his hand. And beside it, a lockbox with a cluster of yellow eyes, watching him carefully. “Where did you get - wait!”

The mimic startled when he raised his hand, scampering to the opposite edge of the room and watching. He leaned forward to follow it, and found not all of his injuries were magically healed. With a grunt he managed to crawl toward the creature a few paces before stopping to catch his breath.

The healing potion residue on his hands was sticky, and smelled as sweet as melons.

The mimic across the room made a sound - a throaty gurgle that, if he thought too hard about, sounded curious. He breathed a humorless laugh, pressing his face to the cool stone as he fought back a sob.

He was done. He wanted to be done. Why couldn’t it just be over?

“Sorry, little buddy - I, I don’t have anymore food. You should go, go off and try somewhere else.” There weren’t any other people in the dungeon besides him. He knew that. And the only person who might check on his would-be corpse was a warlock more powerful than any magic user he had met.

The mimic cooed, a warbling noise as it’s body shifted. It’s shape changed, smaller and thinner. A key. He lifted his eyes to the iron gate of his cell.

If the warlock found him trying to escape, that would be the end of him. He could finally be at peace.

“Okay, fine - fine! We’re leaving. Happy now?” The mimic trilled happily as he picked up the key shaped creature, reaching through the bars to undo the lock.

The mimic was warm in his hand, a gentle pulse of life in its perfect imitation of a key. It was nice, against the chill of the dungeon. He started walking, a vague memory of the direction the warlock had dragged him.

The mimic hissed, pseudopods waving wildly as he took a left instead of a right.

“What? You know a better way out?” The mimic hummed at his question, body contorting into something sleek and metal. A compass, though the arrow clearly pointed away from the passage the warlock had used.

If this was a trap to feed him to larger mimics, he welcomed the possibility of a swift death.

“Whatever you say little buddy.” He just wanted to see his beloved’s face again.

The pair walked in darkness, no torches beyond the main cells. He held the mimic close to his face to read the needle, the creatures pinprick glowing eyes lining the brass case of the compass. It hummed to him - not quite a tune, but certainly some patter of clicks and trills not meant to communicate anything specific.

It somehow managed to bring a smile to his face, the warm, gently illuminated compass in his hands the closest he had felt to happiness in a very long time.

It was a dead end. His shoulders fell, the ache of still healing wounds aggravated by the long trek in the cold and damp. The mimic jumped from his hand - or fell, given how his fingers fell limp at the sight of the boulders and cobbles piled high.

It whistled, pseudopods flailing as it crammed itself in a crack between the rocks.

“No.” Frustration was welling in his blood. He just wanted to do one last good deed. He didn’t want his wounds to heal. He didn’t want to escape. He didn’t want to live without his love. “No - I can’t fit; dammit what was I thinking! Gods you don’t even understand me.”

He held his face in his hands, hot tears welling in his eyes as his breathing grew uneven and hitched. He didn’t know the way back - he didn’t know how to get the warlock’s attention. He was going to starve to death in the dark because he followed a half-witted, strange little mimic.

He dropped to his knees before the pile of rubble and sobbed openly, a gentle draft of cool air on his face.

A draft of air that smelled fresh and clean and so, so close.

The mimic was standing in front of him, shape changed once again to a shining pick axe. It trilled softly; golden, pupil-less eyes beckoning. A gaze between disappointment and hope. The same gaze he imagined his lover watching him with if he was here with him now.

“Please,” It seemed to say, “Get up.”

He rose to his feet, the wooden handle of the mimic smooth in his hand. He struck the stones, cobbles shattering under the force of the blow.

He didn’t want to always be hurting. Another blow, the air on the other side flowing steadier. He didn’t want to stay here, alone in the dark. Another blow, thin threads of golden sunlight shimmering in the dust. He didn’t want to live without his love, but he would want him to. Finally, a gap large enough for him to squeeze through was opened.

He scrambled over the stones, escaping into the sunlight. The grass beneath him was green and vibrant, the air sweet and clean. The mimic in the grass beside him chirped as sweetly as any song bird.

“Thank you.” His tears were different, streaming down a face that wore a wide and earnest smile. “Thank you so much.” The mimic curled on his chest, warm and alive and purring softly.

He knew he was going to live.

Edit: Donate to Palestinians in Gaza

Why did you give the last of your food to that poorly disguised mimic? You were finally at peace with letting go, but now this odd thing won’t leave you alone and is even turning itself into various items in an attempt to aid you.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

more words to describe your character's feelings

Doubt

begrudge, controvert, despair, disapprove, disbelieve, discountenance, dissent, fume, hesitate, lovelorn, mind, mistrust, objection, oppugn, question, reject, repudiate, rue, scruple, skepticism, suspect, wonder

Elated

affect, alleviate, appeal, appeasement, arrest, attract, awe, bedazzle, bemuse, brighten, charm, defuse, divert, elevate, enamor, encourage, endear, enliven, enthrall, enticement, excite, fascinate, fortify, galvanize, gladden, gratify, hearten, inflame, inspire, interest, invigorate, lighten, matter, perk up, prod, rally, reassure, rouse, satisfy, strike, tantalize, temper, tickle, touch, wake/waken, whet

Fear

apprehension, dismay, horror, panic, terror, trepidation

Hate

abhor, abominate, aggression, anger, antagonism, atrocity, bad blood, blow up, burn, deplore, detest, disdain, disinclination, disrespect, dissent, enmity, execrate, frown, fury, horror, incivility, inhumanity, lament/lamentation, loathe, malice, odium, outrage, pique, rancor, resent, revulsion, seethe, spite, umbrage, venom, wrath

Love

acceptance, admiration, adoration, adulation, affection, amour, appreciate, approval, attention, bask, bewitched, canonize, charity, consideration, constancy, delight in, dig, discrimination, dote on/dote upon, enamored, enjoy, esteem, exult, fall for, fascinated, favor, flame, fond, get a kick out of, gratitude, idolize, leaning, like, mad, mercy, passion, predilection, prize, rapture, respect, revere/reverence, savor, taste, thrill, treasure, venerate, zeal

Of concern

afraid, alarm, anxiety, apprehension, concern, craze, dismay, distraction, distress, encumbrance, feeling, foreboding, guilt, hang up, horror, jitters, jumpy, misgiving, obsession, one-track mind, passion, petrified, puzzled, question, suspicion, terror, trouble, weight, wonder, worry

Surprise

alarm, appall, astound, backfire, bedazzle, bewilder, confound, dazzle, dumbfound, electrify, frighten, overwhelm, petrify, shock, startle, stun, stupefy, terrify

NOTE

The above are concepts classified according to subject and usage. It not only helps writers and thinkers to organize their ideas but leads them from those very ideas to the words that can best express them.

It was, in part, created to turn an idea into a specific word. By linking together the main entries that share similar concepts, the index makes possible creative semantic connections between words in our language, stimulating thought and broadening vocabulary.

Source ⚜ Writing Basics & Refreshers ⚜ On Vocabulary Definitions of Emotions in Psychology ⚜ More Word Alternatives for Emotions

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, established relationship, mıssionary, praise, brēeding, petnames, mdni.

nanami who always finds himself in your sheets and between your legs after a long day at work.

“think i want a baby, ‘ken.”

and he took those six simple words personally. nanami’s giving you slow, languid strokes, rolling his hips against yours. he groans at your nails clawing all down his back. as you briefly meet his gaze, you’re met with the most kindest, fawn eyes. all you saw in them were nothing but pools of love with a sprinkle of lust. “oh,” he huskily grunts, hearing the sloshing wet stretch deep into your cunt. he’s stunned for a bit before going deep into imagination. the thought of making your cute tummy all swollen and rounded, it makes him gnaw on his lip like candy.

“my love,” he swallows thickly, a familiar lump forming into the back of his throat. nanami leans into you, his rhythm growing more and more sloppy. you’re jerking back, an ankle of yours sliding down the red lines of his back and he grunts. “c- careful now, might give you more than just one.” and he could have came right then and there—all from relishing in your beauty. he’s never laid his eyes upon anything more pretty.

your knees then get righteously shoved up to your chest. soft, browned eyes flicker at the valley between your breasts before glancing back toward your shimmery spit-slicked lips. you moan, tossing your arms over his shoulders. “i missed my girls,” he groans, stuffing his face between your chest for a moment. your breath immensely hitches at the feeling up him licking a single stripe, still deeply plummeting such inches in and out of your weeping cunt. “they missed me too,” he purrs in a raspy coo, speaking to your tits, and that’s when he latches his plump lips against your perky nipple for a short second. “m-mh.”

the air felt hot — humid, feverish even with each breeze that passes. as warm, kinetic bodies clash against each other at individual hyper strokes, he pries himself off of you. nanami’s jaw tightens so much from your soddened grip that it almost aches. “sweetheart,” he hisses, peering his eyes down to see the milky white ring already coating around his base. it’s probably been hours, hours of you prettily sprawled out for him with your legs open. docile, tawny irises lovingly gaze into you as a thumb of yours strum down his neatly ruffled undercut. “f- fuck, i want you so bad. missed my girl. missed my pussy.”

“she’s missed you too ‘ken,” you pull him into a hot kiss, tasting the mint that lingers on his breath. and as his thrusts grew more sloppy, you whine, feeling his jutting cock kiss against your most sweetest spots. your heart flutters, slithering its way around his waist in a secure lock. “fuck me kento, d- don’t stop, pleaseee.”

“never gonna stop for you, my love,” he huffs, chest heaving in and out. the more he stares at you, the more he falls in love.

through glossed eyes that shimmer with such infatuation—he’s taking in your beauty, your fervor.

nanami loves more than anything to just gawk at you, watching as your eyes droop, your neck crane, and even the way your brows crease into a furrow due to such rapturing pleasure. only he could make you feel this way—you and him both knew that. nobody knew your body like the back of their hand except nanami. your body was his personal canvas, he’s always loved to decorate it and paint it with various, chaste kisses.

to him, you were art. he’s hitting you deep, blurbs and blurbs of whimpers dragging out of your throat until it sounds like inaudible meaningless babbles. so pretty,

repeatedly, the base of his cock perfectly hits against there, leaving you with your jaw hanging open and your entire body being stuck into a limited dimwitted state. he fucks you silly every time, you whimper as a lightening pulse from his cock twitches inside of you, plugging you full.

over and over and over,

nanami blows into your mouth, and you hear a throaty chuckle before he presses yet another wet kiss against your lips. “wanna see you nice ‘n plump s-so bad. gonna give you triplets, my sweet.” and you’re just stupefied, barely a single thought was stored up into your empty, vacant brain. nanami sucks against your bottom lip, still steadily rocking his way into your sloppy cunt. you feel the juncture of his hips mercilessly thrust its way into you raw and you gasp. “right . . here?”

pleasure overtakes you so good that you barely even noticed he was talking to you. you’re too busy moaning your head off and a soft smile pierces against both sides of his lips. a few faint dimples poke against his skin before he grabs your chin. “sweetheaaaart, ‘m talkin’ to you, hey,” and once your eyes meet his mid-thrust, his heart swarms up with love and desire. “there we go. atta girl, yeah. ‘s this spot? this feel good?”

“y- yes,” you whimper, nodding eagerly. he was so big and thick, the prolongated stretch had you drooling. nanami glances at your hand. gingerly bringing it toward his lips, he kisses it, giving it a tender mwah. “kento, ‘m gonna cum a-again.”

“i know, pretty,” he groans, grabbing onto your hand. giving it a firm squeeze. you do the same, interlocking a bundle of fingers with his. his grip was gentle and warm, frantic heartbeat haphazardly picking up speed the more you get a feel of his familiar touch once more. nanami’s always slow with you,

he doesn’t wanna rush this — he hadn’t dreamt of it. already feeling you tighten around him, he invades a strip of your sensitive neck with a plethora of passionate, amorous kisses. “you always taste the same,” and you moan, sobbing cunt gripping down on him so good that it whimpers out a pitchy squelch of its own. his lolled twitching tongue licks against the edge of your shoulder blade once more and your back arches in ecstasy.

he’s never been more in love, with your body arching up backwards at his sweet, sweet hits, you were so close to becoming undone. every pivot of nanami’s hips snap you back to reality before you whine out a needy mewl, tangled digits combing through his unkempt, blond strands. “kento, fuuuuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

“together, my l-love,” his voice falters, and his adam’s apple starts to bob. each delicious thrust of his collapses into your body in such mirroring sync. the rapid, frenzied movements were in complete harmony and beads of running sweat sticks against each skin. nanami gruffly groans, preparing to get milked again, you always did it so so well. squeezing his eyes shut, both broad hands cling onto your hips as he grinds against your core. “c’mon, make a mess on me. ‘m gonna clean you up, promise. give it to me, please.”

your moans were so harmonic, each sound that left your throat coming out to be more elongated. with his cock pounding in and out, he starts to slow his pace down — seeping his teeth into your tender collarbone softly. sharp tips of your fingernails continue to paw at the beefiness of his biceps before within seconds, it happens.

with your lips forming into a lewd circular shape, you’re creaming all down his thickset of a shaft. “kentoooo,” you whine out, feeling your soaked walls clench all around him. he holds you tight, allowing you to form into a puddled mess before he shortly follows. nanami groans, tossing his head forward before a translucent ring bubbles around his heavy base. it comes out in oozing spurts, hot cum pouring into your womb raw.

“ngh, always have me bein’ such a mess for you,” he grunts, pretty arched brows curling up together. nanami sucks at the air, witnessing as your legs grow numb, gluing against his skin. “ah, ‘s gonna be a lot. hold still ‘n take it. take it like a good girl,” and he leans into you, cupping the curvature of your face. “make me proud, baby. thaaaaat’s it. eyes on me, eyes on kento.”

nanami feels a wave of drowsiness dawn over him as he stills himself inside of you. he’s panting right with you, a thumb hooks a strand of hair back toward your face. a school of butterflies flutter inside of you as he’s still dumping a sticky load of velvety thin ropes into your greedy pussy. it’s deeply spewing down alongside of your thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck. “i- i love you ‘ken.”

“i love you more,” he whispers, leaning in to pepper kisses all over your face. he hums at the tiny pout that’s displayed on your lips. you’re underneath him, succumbing into such an orgasmic state that you could barely keep your lashes open. nanami’s not moving anymore but he’s still buried balls deep. a big clammy hand ghosts over your tummy before he nips at your chin. “you’re gonna be such a pretty mommy,” and with a final kiss, you feel him slowly lifting up your leg, tossing it over his shoulder.

and as you gasp, watching him switch positions— nanami then pulls out a wedding ring, sliding it over your bare finger. “but you’d be an even prettier wife.”

[solar--spectrum]

but.... would it be funny?

[mirrorrorror]

was i wearing this maid outfit/makeup(/choker(/cage)) while i cleaned the house all day? no. am i gonna pretend that i was when my wife gets home? absolutely.