#more will come later because i can't stop thinking about this

[fuctacles]

prev

The drinks Steve had make them stop at a gas station midway back. Wayne doesn't intervene when he sees Steve stroll inside, but when he leaves and detours to the left, he raises his eyebrows and stubs out his cigarette to follow him.

He finds Steve with a payphone pressed into his ear. Letting the curiosity get the better of him, he leans against the wall nearby, and when he gets spotted, Steve smiles wide and wiggles his fingers at him. Wayne wiggles back, realizing Steve may be more drunk than he thought, so he comes closer.

"Who are you calling?" he asks in a whisper. 

"Eddie," Steve answers, leaning heavily against the flimsy piece of plastic shielding the phone from the elements. Before Wayne can react, someone picks up. "Hi Eddie," Steve croons into the speaker. "No, we're alright, I just wanted to talk to you--We're having fun." His eyes meet Wayne's while Eddie is talking into his ear. "Why can't I sleep with your uncle?"

Wayne presses his lips together. He hopes it doesn't end up in a bigger argument, because no matter what his dick may think, his relationship with his nephew comes first, always. 

Steve motions him to come closer. He hesitates for a moment, but steps into the cover of the phone booth.

"You can do what you want, really," he hears Eddie's voice on the other end. Even through the line, he sounds pissed. "I just don't want shit to be weird after. How are we supposed to hang out if I know you fucked Wayne?"

With a slight delay, Steve nods against the receiver. 

"But I'm--" He licks his lips, conflicted, glancing at Wayne again. "Eddie," he sighs, whines almost, like he's asking for something.

Wayne frowns, now wondering if there's something more than horny hormones fighting for attention in Steve's brain. 

"What?" Eddie bristles. "You're what?"

Steve huffs in frustration.

"I trust Wayne," he says eventually, eyes darting to the man in question and cheeks going pink. 

There's silence from all three of them.

"He's a good man," Eddie agrees with a sigh. "Just... Whatever you do, I don't want to know about it."

Steve frowns. 

"I won't do anything that would upset you." In his periphery, Wayne nods in agreement, though he doesn't seem to want to let his presence be known.

"Dude, I'm already upset!"

He winces. 

"Okay, fair. " He wets his lips, thinking how to appease his friend. "We should hang out, just the two of us. No Wayne, no Robin, no kids."

"Sure. That would be fun." He doesn't sound appeased at all.

The phone beeps in his ear, letting him know his time is up.

"Okay, uh, see you soon."

He hears Eddie make an affirmative noise before the line cuts off. Wayne eases the receiver out of his hand to put it back on the cradles. 

"He'll get over it. Come on, let's get you home."

Steve doesn't seem thrilled at the idea, but follows Wayne to his truck anyway. 

Once on the road with no safe way to jump out of the car, the older man clears his throat. 

"You said you trust me, on the phone."

"Mhm," Steve doesn't look up, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of his jacket. 

"What's that about?" he prods. 

It takes a while for him to answer.

"It's about men. Obviously," he scoffs tiredly. "I make a move on the wrong one and get my teeth kicked out."

"So I'm a convenient queer, huh?"

"What?! No!" Steve turns towards him, but lets out a relieved huff seeing his small, teasing smile. "You're cool and nice, and a good looking guy. Are you fishing for compliments?" he quirks an eyebrow at him.

"Well, if you're offering them..." The man grins. "You're not so bad on the eyes yourself."

Steve snorts, looking away to hide his blush.

"Thanks."

"Can't wait to tell everyone the cool kid thinks I'm cool, too."

"Don't be such a dad," Steve laughs, and the atmosphere finally lifts. 

"Hey."

"Hm?" 

"It's been a while for me, but I know some bars we could go to," Wayne offers as they approach the Welcome to Hawkins sign. "You could find someone else to trust.  And I could make sure you're safe."

Steve's been dozing off, but suddenly feels wide awake. 

"You'd be my chaperone at a gay bar?" he asks incredulously. 

"More or less," Wayne nods slowly. 

"Why?" Steve frowns. "What do you get out of it?"

"Peace of mind? Knowledge that one more queer kid is being safe?" He half-shrugs. "I may not be an active part of the gay crowd, but we should still look out for each other. And I feel partially responsible, as the first man you made a move on."

"Gosh," Steve grins sheepishly, feeling warm inside from Wayne's words. And outside, around his cheeks specifically. "You're such a dad."

"Shush, kid."

"This is not helping my crush, for the record."

"Oh, it's a crush now?" Wayne smirks.

"Shush, dad."

"I'll remember to mention it at your engagement party in a few years."

.

.

.

.

.

Five years later

"Oh no." Steve watches Wayne stand up from the table, hesitating with the spoon he's holding against the glass before deciding to go with the good old fashioned whistle to attract everyone's attention. A sudden memory flashes through his mind, but maybe...

"Now, don't worry..." Wayne sounds like the two drinks he's had already hit him. Steve told him he doesn't need the extra shots in them, but he didn't listen. "I'm not about to spring another mushy gushy love story on ya." He grins and someone, probably Max, murmurs a thanks to god. "But I want you all to know that this started because Steve was trying to hit on me five years ago."

"Oh god," Eddie groans next to him, sliding down in his seat. 

"And my boy got so jealous he barely spoke to me for a month. Tragically, it took him another month to figure out he's into men."

Someone snorts and Wayne grins. Only the top of Eddie's head is visible over the table now. 

"Exactly! But we got here all because of this," Wayne points a thumb at himself, "hot old man." 

And he winks, terrifyingly, at someone on Steve's side of the gathering. He doesn't catch who, though, but maybe that's for the best. There's a fiancé he has to fish from under the table anyway.

tags: @blasvemous @wheneverfeasible @phantomcat94 @divinelyjude @marklee-blackmore  @ajeff855 @holyangelstudentuniverse @dauntlessdiva

[riverbends]

someone on twt mentioned samira roping jack into doing skincare with her and now i can't stop thinking abt jack oiling her hair GET ME OUT OF HEREEEE

i might actually pass out. maybe some time after dinner, she's cross-legged on the floor while he sits on the edge of the couch behind her with his knees caging her in, and she's talking him through the whole process. he is listening so closely too. a bit nervous because he's not sure if he can do this as well as her amma. he has a little too much fun trying to detangle and section off her hair, just narrowly missing her swats and pinches of annoyance. likes it when she gets snappy. but now he’s probably worried about using too much pressure on her scalp so she has to guide his hands with hers, letting her elbows rest atop his knees as he leans forward. she tells him not to worry about doing too much because nobody holds as much force in their hands as her beloved amma.

he's not saying a lot at first because he's so caught up in the intimacy of her hands guiding his oil-slicked fingers through her hair. this is gentle. this is warm.

when he finds a good rhythm, samira slowly takes her hands back and lets him do his thing (even though he's still soft on her scalp. but she finds his concern too endearing to correct him anyway). she tells him all about the ayurvedic tradition of hair oiling and scalp massaging and how south asian women have passed it down for thousands of years, making it a bonding ritual between women in their families. and, of course, the scientific jargon and health benefits that come with it. she lists different types of oils before talking about her favourite. he's absorbing every. single. word. locking them away in the SAMIRA MOHAN file cabinet that's situated in a special corner of his conscience.

he's convinced he could do this for her every week. if she lets him (she'll have to emphasise that it is totally okay to use more force on her scalp—amma raised her for this).

i reckon he does eventually get the pressure right. sort of. still afraid of hurting her scalp. but she still doesn't mind because the image of him taking care of her like this means everything to her. he is trying his best every week now, leaning forward with a bad back to arrange her hair before rubbing oil into her roots with different rhythms and pressures for a good ten minutes. listening to her stories with keen ears, maybe leaning further down to kiss her shoulder once or twice. sometimes his mouth lingers on her skin for too long and she laughs, reaching back to squeeze a hand around his ankle while saying you can do that later.

everything shines from root to tip and he's very proud of himself. her hair is a bit too short to braid into a plait, so she teaches him how to tie it all up in a tight bun.

he ends up being the one to remind her every week, waiting around with a bowl of oil until he actually has to drag her down to the living room and lower her to the floor so he can attack her scalp for ten long minutes. but they both love this. so much. it's even sweeter when her amma visits and oils samira's hair instead. he's sitting right beside her mother and watching the whole thing with undivided attention so he can learn from the pro. seeing it like this, he fully understands how this ritual, above all things, is an act of pure love.

[smutinlove]

"Do you believe in love at first sight?"—Jason Todd

Fem!Journalist reader x Jason Todd

When you had received the email from Bruce Wayne, you had almost passed out. It contained an invitation to the annual Wayne Charity Gala. It was official, you had been invited by the king of socialites, Bruce Wayne. You had been invited as both a guest and an active journalist who'd publish an article about the gala in the next coming days.

You stood on the steps of the venue, fumbling for the press ID in your tote. You had managed to find it and clipped it onto your blazers pocket.

You slowly made your way to the door and entered. There were only a few people, mostly making last-minute fixes and arrangements. You were thirty minutes early.

You put your camera equipment on one of the tables and started doubling-checking everything. Besides writing an article, you were also asked to document the event via photos and videos.

You felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. You turned around—camera in hand—it was Jason Todd. You had written an article on him about his scandals and such.

"It's you." he stated. Your eyes widened in surprise. "Indeed it is," you replied and bowed playfully. "Does Mr. Wayne need something?" You asked, wondering why he was here.

Jason put his hand on your arm. "No, but maybe a dance with me later, love?" he proposed with a small smirk. "I'll think about it." you replied cheekily. A dance with the son of Bruce Wayne did sound interesting.

He took your hand and placed a gentle kiss between your knuckles. "I'll see you later, love," said Jason as he backed away and left.

The event had started. Over a few dozen socialites had been invited. Bruce, the man himself, was surprisingly present. You had managed to take many pictures and videos.

You even wrote down a few details for the gossip section of the newspaper you worked for.

You did another circle around the gala, taking a few more pictures as Bruce and Selina Kyle danced in front of the crowd gathered in a circle. More people joined them.

You got closer, taking a few pictures of the elegant couple. You jerked back when you felt a hand on your waist. You turned around, ready to hit whoever it was.

"Relax, darling," it was a voice you knew a little too well.

"Todd," you muttered. "I was promised a dance," Jason uttered.

You sighed and put your camera in your tote bag. He took your hand and smoothly led you to the dance floor.

You put your hands on his shoulder; he put his on your waist. Everyone, including you two, swayed to the classical music that was being played. "Do you believe in love at first sight?" he asked abruptly, causing you to step on his foot.

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't be. I've never felt this way." Jason took your hand and placed it on his heart. You could feel his heart pounding out of his chest. "I saw you and I can't stop seeing you. You're in every corner of my vision. I can't breathe without you, darling."

You stood on your toes and gave him a peck on his cheek.

Both of you made your way off the dance floor and into a secluded corner. "I think I'm crazy in love."

His hands fell down to your hips; yours at his neck. His muscles were hard not to stare at. You looked away, trying to be respectful. The two of your gazed into each others eyes. "I think I'm crazy in love too," you finally answered.

"You wanna get out of here? Somewhere a little quieter?"

You nodded.

(orig fanfic prompt post)

I, like the fanfic writer I am, decided to make myself do a fanfic challenge. I'm basically going to write a fanfic per prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting

I'm doing this because I want to write more fics and because I want to test my skills 🤩

[erogenousmind]

Conversational

What if every time we spoke, you found yourself drifting off for me? If every conversation left you dazed. If it became second nature for your mind to switch off because I was speaking to you.

You had let it be known how exciting you found being hypnotized covertly. How thrilling you found conversational inductions. And it is such an exciting idea. Knowing that you can never be sure you aren't being lured down into trance. That your surrender can leak out of the frame of formal hypnosis. That any time could be the right time to drop for me.

And you take to it so well, don't you? You find yourself drifting back into conversations, unsure of what we are talking about. Or catching yourself nodding along to my words, feeling so agreeable. Knowing that you can just listen and follow. And if I tell you its alright to let go, you find it so easy to do just that. Maybe later you realize what was happening. Or maybe your mind starts getting fuzzy again when you try to think back on it.

But you wonder if it has gone too far. You become dimly aware between our talks that you've let yourself be conditioned. When we are talking, of course, it's too difficult to think about much of anything but what you are being told. But other times you can be aware that a link has formed in your mind. The way I talk to you falls so naturally into those patterns that you respond to. Every exchange, you feel the pull of my words, always encouraging you deeper. And it feels so right. It feels so perfect to float away when I'm speaking. You don't need to think. I will think for you.

And the two become the same thing in your mind. I am speaking. You are in trance. Any dialogue of more than a few words, and you feel your thoughts dripping away. You can still respond of course. Usually. Telling me things you think I need to know. Ideas you wanted to convey. You get to share yourself with me fully. But it's always within that haze of submission. Until the act of saying "hello" becomes a trigger.

And part of you might worry about what that means. How weak you must be. How vulnerable you become if every time I speak to you, you feel your free will floating away, replaced by that drifty need to listen and obey. But then you see how it builds trust. How effortlessly you come to rely on me when we are together. You can't think for yourself, can't make decisions. So I decide for you. When we are together everything automatically feels so easy. You just do as you are told. You follow. You sink deeper. And it's intoxicating how comfortable that becomes. You look forward to every interaction because you know you get to turn your mind off. Because you know you won't have a choice.

And the longer our interactions grow, the more natural it feels to just stop thinking entirely. You wake up next to me, finding yourself gazing into my eyes. And by the time the words reach your ears, you are already sinking deeper. Days pass with you drifting so easily under my hypnotic spell. When necessity parts us, for even a moment, lucidity begins to return.

And you find yourself desperate to get back to my side. Eager to fall down at my feet. To hear me speak again so that you can go back to being your best self.

More structured inductions still occur of course. But they take you to a place of such profound surrender, that trying to reflect on them is like staring into an abyss. Hypnotized has become a part of who you are when you are with me. And it is the part that feels the most authentic.

So if you find yourself getting lost in some conversation we share, know that it's perfectly alright. Everything is happening exactly as we want it to. You can let my words wrap up your thoughts and feel your conscious mind fading away. You don't need to think for yourself when I'm here to think for you. And you are getting used to the feeling of always being entranced by me. Learning to love it. Learning to crave it.

You are learning to always be under my spell.

[mari-lair]

Koukane is beautiful, a solid rare pair that's dear to my heart, so let's talk about them!

Kou is easily overwhelmed by Akane, kind of stumbling into being his friend when it clearly wasn't in his plans.

Their first interactions are adorable in a pitiful way because Kou can't keep up with Akane's mood swings, he is so nervous he calls Akane "Sir" completely umprompted, constantly being at lost for words near the older boy.

And while Kou aknowladge Akane can be scary and unhinged:

This nervousness is born from admiration, he gets flustered near Akane when the older boy isn't even trying. Stuttering and startling and awkwardly reaching out for him without daring to approach.

His habit to awkwardly reach out likely involves wanting to help Akane, he just can't force himself to actually close the distance and be of help.

The one time Kou was able to help, delighted to the point of happy tears by the opportunity, Akane killed part of his pride by showing off a power Kou seems to think is much cooler and stronger than his own, judging by the way his big blush turned into sweat.

To further stab his poor heart, when he was honest about how cool Akane powers are, Akane dismissed his own as pathetic. So I don't blame Kou for being so nervous about trying to help his 'cool upperclassman' during the entire arc.

Akane has no nerves when it comes to Kou so he is the one that always approaches Kou and get them closer,declaring Kou his friend, kicking Hanako when it looked like he was mocking Kou's desperate determination to save Nene, and being the only one who touches Kou, Kou never dares to touch Akane.

Surprisingly, Kou's respect seem to extend to Akane's view on Hanako, cause we don't see his reaction to Akane's "you're a murderer, you make me sick" rant, but we do know Kou isn't nearly as unseatled as Nene about it, he isn't even angry, when he brings it up again later with Hanako, he is pretty casual about it. And in the recap he is just confussed.

Maybe Akane reminds him of Teru, and he is used to such a harsh stance, or he is thinking of the young exorcist arc where Hanako's beliefs were the same as Akane's 'I am being nice now but i murdered someone kid. What would ever justify murder? How can a murderer ever be good?' so I think Kou is mostly shocked someone with Akane's belief decided to go through with the alliance anyways. Teru would never.

Back to Kou being extremely nervous!

During the clock keepers arc, after Akane dons his clock keeper uniform, Kou never disagree with Akane directly. Even Kou's habit to back up Nene doesn't get in the way, hyping Nene up but not agreeing with her contrasting views like "hanako isn't bad" or directly refuting what Akane says.

This hesitation/nerves slowly dissapears as they grow closer, nowadays Kou isn't scared of speaking his mind, able to be extremelly rude and not filter his offence.

We aren't show them interacting much in the main manga but we are told that they do talk outside classes, likely alone (?), so Akane's declaration they're friends was not a thrown away line, he genuinely vibe with Kou, he even gave him his phone number.

Kou got more comfortable with Akane, able to express that the boy is a weirdo but still keeping his respects for Akane, seeing him as a wise older boy and following his lead without question: He is excited to hear about Akane's romantic advise and he listened to Akane's advise even when it comes to dealing with his own brother.

Akane likes Kou, he is the one who declared them friends. He admires his determination and want him to succedd in his goals, he wouldn't have stopped his time on what he consider an 'imposible task' to save Nene otherwise. He also really appreciates that Kou doesn't like Aoi. And he is constantly comparing Kou with Teru, baffled by how much they differ.

Akane grows to like when Kou is cheerful, either overwhelmed by Kou's expectations and feeling pressured into doing what Kou wants or charmed by it, unable to resist the urge to tease him.

There is a translation where he refers to Kou as Teru's 'cute little brother' and considering how he treats Kou, even if it is a mistranslation i wouldn't be surprised if that's how he think.

Specially with the way he acts as if Kou is too good to be related to Teru, touched by his kindness, seeing him as a sparkling/glowing figure.

Akane also loves his food, blushing when he eat it. He respect him as a chef.

Akane trying to cheer Kou after his fight with Kou up is really sweet to me because he sucks, they aren't close enough for hugs or shoulder pats but still enough for Akane to take his distress seriously. He is unconfortable and sweeaty, awkwardly reach out, as if he want to help Kou but has no idea how. It remind me of Kou's own awkward reaching out gestures in the clock keepers arc.

Their friendship is beautiful and funny but every flavor of koukane is good, so let's add a puppy crush on Kou. He already finds Akane attractive.

This is attraction by the way, he isn't flustered because Akane is being suggestive. Even if we put asside how pretty Akane was drawn here, Kou is not weak to sexual comments, he is used to Hanako, whose pervy jokes are far more explicit, but he isn't a fan of them, always gets mostly annoyed not flustered.

In the spin off it is revealed a girl Hanako isn't 'his type', but when Hanako possessed Nene's body (who Kou used to have a crush on so he consider her an attractive girl) he becomes imcapacitated. It is a big weakness.

So Akane's smirk is what got Kou flustered. Reading Kou's nerves as half admiration and half the poor boy feeling way too bi to know how to handle Akane would be fun.

I can imagine Akane talking about Aoi, since Kou is one of the few boys who doesn't have a crush on her and Kou feeling awkward cause everytime Akane send him a cute smile thinking of Aoi, Kou short circuit.

Considering we only see Kou call Akane "sir!" after his transformation I headcanon he is more attracted to Akane's keeper form than his usual apparence. If Akane teases Kou while on the keeper uniform Kou may explode.

If we keep this ship one sided, it would never leave the dock, Kou would never go after Akane, but I can see him trying to help Akane get with Aoi when they become close friends, similar to how he had helped Nene with Hanako during the donuts chapter. Boy got the 'he is so out of my league i won't even try' doubts mixed with a sprinkle of i don't like boys' cause internalized homophobia is one fo the ingredient of Kou's 'i want to be tough and reliable! I don't want to be a housewife' complex.

(Just realized Kou think using your bare fists to fight is the peak of toughness and guess what Akane's fighting style is. Guess.)

Akane liking him back is amazing because they both got the acts of service displays of love, something Akane will be touched by and Kou will be comflicted because he is the acts of service guys that's his one thing he can do right, let him do stuffs!! What Kou is weak to is words of affirmation, so he would explode if Akane says he does a good job, is handsome, or kiss well or anything really.

Akane can consistently overwhelm Kou when he is being confident so if he say "Sit down I'll clean today," Kou would try to argue but inevitably cave in and have to awkwardly let someone help him. I am telling you right now, when they live together breakfast will become Akane's role.

Kou may be a hard working boy that carries his family on his back but he is NOT a morning person. A single sleep over would be enough for Akane to notice that and let his wondeful boyfriend rest. Depending on how sappy he is feeling, or if it is a important date like birthdays or valentines, he'll give Kou breakfast in bed.

Kou being easily overwhelmed/having low self steem and Akane's habit of being very open about his love, puting his partner first, would result in Kou being super flustered and flattered and uyguygyugu at the start but slowly turn into a problem if unchecked.

Akane is reliable so he can help Kou with chores, studies, or supernatural problems, which Kou would appreciate, and rely on, but it would slowly make Kou feel useless by comparation.

(It would feed into Teru's fears that his siblings are growing out of him too buuut i'll make a post on Teru's amazing potential roles/affect in the ship for later)

Even when Kou does help he has a habit of focusing on what he can't do instead of what he can, feeling like all he does right is cook, and that Akane doesn't trust him, since Teru is the one Akane goes to when it comes to supernatural troubles and help him in the student council. He worries about Kou more than he ever relied on him, at least, when it comes to battle.

Unlike with Mitsuba, I can't see Kou being angry Akane doesn't rely on him, there was never any illusion that Kou can 'grant his wish' or that he is the only one trustworthy in Akane's life. Kou is the one who usually seek him for help from the start, and he respect the people Akane work with more than he respects himself, so he would just be extremaly frustrated with himself that he isn't capable enough to be Akane first option in troubling times.

Thankfully, unlike Aoi, Kou's poker face sucks, and he is an incredibly bad liar, when he bottle up his emotions it easily overflows. Anger, sadness, nervousness...

Just look how he acts with Nene after he learn about her lifespam, how easily his smile breaks after his visit with mitsumom, how reactive he get with Hanako, and so on...

So Akane, who is used to playing hard mode (since he grew up reading Aoi's eternal smile) would notice all of Kou's mood swings right away. If Kou dismisses it, Akane will let him be, but when it keep happening, or he is visibly very troubled, a talk would occur.

I think the first time a misunderstanding would hapen relatively earlier, over something small: Such as Akane thinking Kou is cute when Kou wants to be cool. Kou would be embarrassed at first, he is never complemented on his apparence in the manga in any way, in fact, he is comparaed to a delinquent in apparence, but find it kind of pathetic after a while that the main thing Akane calls him is cute.

Imagine Kou trying out cooler clothes and Akane being somewhat baffled but endeared. Akane won't even question, if Kou want to have a punk era, good for him, but when he finally connect the dots at his anxious behavior he will figure out exactly what kind of compliment Kou craves and overwhelm the poor kid.

Eventually every little piece and small issue would connect and Akane will call him out on his "I need to be useful" complex. Probably result in tears from Kou and regular training sessions.

Kou is incredibly powerful, he is a Minamoto! The only one who caught Mirai mid air, and all the monster he killed at the aquarium was while his weapon was sealed, so Akane would absolutely grow to respect him. Kou would also be a non tradicional fighter, knowing some tradicional exorcists attacks and some judo tecniques.

Akane consider getting homemade food the peak of displays of love (it's a fantasy that is brought up a LOT/ he was extremelly flustered when Aoi gave him a little homebaked sweet)

So despite Kou not thinking much of every bento he makes for Akane, his upperclassman would be delighted. Specially when Kou's meals become more and more tailored to Akane's tastes everytime Kou learns more about his preferences, made with Akane in mind. Add in how Akane naturally loves Kou cooking, even ship lenses, and every meal will be Akane's favorite time of the day.

Instead of leaving Akane to his fate when he is having even day to day troubles Kou would try to help now that he isn't so nervous anymore, and can move instead of reaching out and awkwardly staying in place. Just like when Tiara was troubling him and Kou immediately went to help.

They teamed up for damage control flawlessly. Just saying if they ever live together the chores would be split and all would be nice.

Akane always try to do things alone, and we are constantly said Akane get stuck with jobs no one want to do, helping others but not asking for help. Kou naturally always tries to do things for others, so he would tell him to relax when he is too tired and offer help in small tasks he can, like delivering papers to various clubs, things he would consider pretty unhelpful but Akane would be touched by, specially pre-relationship/the very start.

ALSO! Their height difference is cute! It would start with Akane being taller:

And if grown up Kou REALLY is the same as Teru, he'll become a little taller than Akane.

The idea of Akane either in complete denial his Kou looks like Teru when he gets older, or him genuinely being so in tune with every detail of his features that he is the only one who sees Kou as completely different and far more beautiful than Teru are equally funny to me.

[trivialbob]

On the way to Wisconsin yesterday I stopped at Menards—the big, big, big-box home improvement store with low prices. (Rant about why I hate their 11% rebate perpetual promotion has been deleted now and saved for another time).

I needed three things. Well its a huge store, so needles in a haystack. Even using the store's web site, I couldn't find what I wanted. Eventually an employee got me in the right location for one. Frustrated and eager to get to the campground, I paid for that and left.

An hour later, in a small Wisconsin town, I stopped at an Ace Hardware. Price wasn't a concern now; I just wanted two other things. I found them immediately, and they were reasonably priced too.

As I get older, I realize that scrounging for the best price isn't always the best use of my time.

Another thing that comes with age, dare I say maturity, is not hurrying on road trips. In my college years and into my 20s, when I'd drive from the Twin Cities to Madison I had to make the best time. That meant speeding, worrying about the state patrol, and stopping as little as possible.

I remember one time arriving in to Madison needing to pee so badly it hurt. But proudly, I thought, I wasted no time stopping along I-94. Then I watched TV for three hours. So much for making good time.

This morning, I woke up after nine hours of peaceful sleep. My Garmin watch gave me an excellent sleep score. I decided to drive into town for breakfast. As I motored down a county road, I saw an Amish buggy coming my direction. The horses don't seem to mind cars and trucks, but I make to point to slow down, out of respect for people and animal alike. I glanced at my speedometer—I was already 5 MPH under the speed limit. It's nice to not be in a hurry. These days I don't even tap the brakes when I see a cop car.

Around lunchtime, I closed up the trailer and started for home. When I saw a cheese and meat shop that I've passed a number of times before, I decided to stop. There was no reason to rush home. The shop was just what I hoped it would be. Of the many varieties of beef jerky and brats, I chose a few to bring home.

When I got to Turtle Lake I decided to also stop in the casino. It's been maybe a decade since I set foot inside a casino, and I'd wondered what this place was like.

It was stinky and sad.

I watched frustrated people at a card table—until one guy gave me stink-eye. My presence must have upset his already poor juju. At a craps table another man had some sort of superstition about how he picked up the dice. He carefully positioned them, one side at a time, across the felt, sometimes north-south, other times east-west, until his number was on top. After doing that with each die, he threw them across the table. The stickman quickly retrieved the dice, and the dealer quickly collected the man's chips. Rinse, repeat.

I played a slot machine for about ten minutes, losing $20. I'm all set for another decade of not going to a casino.

When I walked out of the flashy dungeon I reeeked of cigarette smoke. I had to smell like that for 90 more minutes until I got home.

At home, I cleaned up then took the dogs to the park. Today is the first time this season I remember wearing shorts. It so nice outside that I think I'll take one of them to the brewery tonight because we can sit on the patio without freezing.

Oh, I almost forgot. Today one of our campground neighbors had a new puppy—a Miniature Australian Shepherd with the blue merle coat like my Ella and Sulley have. I can't wait for my dogs to meet this one. She was a very outgoing puppy (and I'm a terrible photographer).

[burins]

i put this in the replies but two days later I still think it's funny so I'm making you all see it. I did remember more, namely:

cissie, deeply judgmentally, flipping through beholden to her twisted longing: "what even is the fantasy here. you want to be some rich person's, what, sex pet??"

Cassie, bright red, trying to explain the concept of bdsm to her professionally hot friend without making it a) weird or b) sad. especially when mostly the fantasy is a situation where she can't fuck anything up, especially not the team she is responsible for, and also hundreds to millions of civilian lives.

cissie voice Hero Work: You Can Quit!

cue classic squabble about how cissie is always descending from whatever celebrity gig all high-handed and judgmental and smelling like a beach. devolves into Cassie yelling FINE what porn do YOU watch!!!

solo stuff a la beautiful agony. you can see where we go from here.

I just think it's good if cissie is always worried about her stupid hero friends who won't stop putting themselves in the meat grinder and expresses it (how else) via criticism, because while she doesn't regret her choices part of her is still worried the most good she'll ever do in her life ended when she was 16. and cassie is worried that she's not as good as she needs to be to keep everyone safe, and hates that she's even doubting herself like that. she literally has superpowers come ON! and then they have sex about it.

woke up last night due to thunderstorm (delightful) and wrote an entire cissiecassie fic in my head while falling back asleep (even more delightful change from the recent Horrors) and now I can't remember ANY of it. i don't even know if it was in character. i thiiiink cissie was making fun of cassie's dark secret of reading bad billionaire BDSM romance????

[bubbarnes]

from mila13la' instagram - december 09, 2024

[cinderflower]

Hey! I love your works, thanks for sharing them! Your stuff is some of my favorites in the fandom!

I just wanted to ask your opinion on how Malenia and Miquella (from FoR and your characterization of them specifically) would view Millicent. How do you think they'd interact with her? Would they avoid her? What would that mean for their own relationship? Etc etc.

Just asking because I think your take on Malenia and Miquella is so interesting to play around with.

Thanks! Your stuff is awesome!!

Wah, anon this is such a sweet message, I'm always humbled to hear people like my works and my characterizations! Thank you so much 🥺💕

I'm so sorry this is so long but as I'm sure you can imagine, I have Many Thoughts about Malenia lol.

I've actually thought quite a lot about Millicent and her sisters and I think, first and foremost, that she doesn't know about them at all. I think after her bloom and being carried back to the roots of the Haligtree that she's basically been in a pseudo-coma as the rot progresses now that she's needle-less, so she might know about the kindred of rot but not Millicent or her sisters.

With Malenia, I really focus on her lack of autonomy as a character throughout the most formative years of her life and the trauma that undoubtedly came with it, where she is burdened with the rot which would have effectively ostracized her from most people except Miquella (because of his immunity to the rot). This is also in addition to her being named as an Empyrean and already having her fate decided for her. So the nature by which Millicent and her sisters came to be, after her bloom and presumably like offshoots or cuttings from plants, they'd be another blow against her autonomy because she didn't have a say in their creation (implied by Gowry raising them and her rejection of the kindred of rot).

Specifically with Millicent, I imagine Malenia would see a lot of herself in her, and I think she would harbor a deep resentment because of that - not because she'd dislike Millicent, but because Millicent would be a reflection of her younger self. Someone who is spawned from her, consequently cursed BY her, to suffer the same hardships. Millicent is the same as younger Malenia, which consequently forces Malenia into the role of the Outer Rot God in their dynamic - unwittingly having taken on the role of the thing she hates. If Malenia had embraced the rot like Romina, I think it would be different, but every time she accepts it, it's when she's at the end of her rope with no choices left and she's essentially resigned herself to death.

This might sound harsh, but it's also why I love her as a character - I believe Malenia is ultimately deeply selfish in her actions where Miquella is concerned (and vice versa ignoring all the DLC). She's sworn herself to his cause, has proven herself willing to die for him, to go to war for him, to commit countless atrocities in his name and inflict the very thing she despises - the curse that has caused her so much misery - on countless others. For him. But! In a twisted way, it's also for herself! Because for once, this is HER choice. She decided to take on the title of his blade and devote herself to him. No matter the ask, no matter the cost.

Miquella, who knows Malenia better than anyone and has been by her side throughout the worst of it, knows all of this. I believe he would be sympathetic to Millicent and her sisters (also seeing a younger Malenia in them) but I suspect that while he would also try to help them in secret, he'd be (selfishly) keeping them away from Malenia so that she wouldn't have to deal with all the trauma I mentioned above. He might feel some guilt about it, but with how I write him in FoR, he's always willing to harbor some secrets if he believes it's in Malenia's best interest. He wants to save her, to give her back the life she's been denied - a life free of her rot and any burdens. And that would mean a life without five magically spawned new dependents whose existence would be inflicting constant psychic damage on Malenia and that she'd feel responsible for.

In a timeline where the twins are far less codependent, and where they're not both so focused on Miquella's ambitions to cure Malenia of her rot and revolutionize the world, maybe Malenia is able to take the time to heal and make peace with herself. In that timeline, maybe Millicent would serve to be a positive and healing influence on her.

[disdaidal]

The way I'm still not finished with writing the first two ideas I had in mind for this ship, I'm suddenly getting two more. 🙈🙊 Could somebody please arrange it so that I'd have all the time in the world to write it all? Because 24hrs a day is simply not enough.

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[kneelbeforeclefairy]

What I think is most different and most striking about Sunrise on the Reaping is how CYNICAL it is. To some extent we knew it was going to be. This is a midquel. That the reapings go on and the Hunger Games only ends 25 years later is a forgeon conclusion. We know nothing that happens here is going to work.

The book is about implicit submission, and why, with numbers on their side, the many submit to the few, even when the few are unjust. And it's because, the book seems to say, numbers aren't ENOUGH. the Newcomers alliance is much bigger than the Careers. They should be able to team up and defeat them easily. But they don't. Eighteen of them are killed outright, because the Careers have the strength, the skill and the training. And that's just that.

Plutarch asks why the tributes don't overwhelm the Peacekeepers during training, and Haymitch is rightfully outraged at the privilege of this question. Why don't they? Because they probably couldn't kill them all, and even if they could, what good would it do? It wouldn't stop the Hunger Games. It wouldn't change a thing. No one would even know about it outside that room, because the Capitol would change the narrative. Just like Katniss and the Star Squad can't REALLY take on the Capitol single handed and assassinate the president, the scrappy alliance of kids can't really do any real damage to the system the Capitol has in place. All they can do is choose if they want to die now or later. So why don't they, if there's no difference to them, as Plutarch asks. Because, as Snow puts it. Hope. The slight chance that one of them will come out of it. And, more cynically, the hope that if they are good tributes and obey, their families will be left alone. If they choose to rebel and choose to die now they guarantee retaliation against their families and perhaps their entire district. We see that even in the tributes that attack the Gamemakers in the arena. They rise up, they break that bond of implicit submission--and they die bloody for it.

Why don't they rebel? Because they don't have the privilege to lose.

Even Lenore Dove, the Joan of Arc of Twelve, fails to do any real damage or have any real effect. All she does is get herself a reputation for being a trouble maker, and eventually get herself killed. Was she killed as part of the retaliation against Haymitch, or was her punishment because she's a rebel, and that's what happens to rebels? (and Snow hates covey girls.) but she fails because she IS alone. She focuses on small, symbolic acts that do nothing, but that she hopes will rally the people to action.Unfortunately, the people of Twelve don't want their lives to get any worse, and they don't have the privilege of spending time and energy on revolution the way a teenager girl whose family doesn't need her income to survive does--sadly, Twelve will remain this way, in an uncanny valley where they're beaten down enough to need change, but not enough to have NOTHING to lose. They are not one of the districts that rise up. So acting alone does nothing, teaming up does nothing. How does one fight an enemy with better technology, better weapons, and better organization? Beetee's plan doesn't work out. Of course it doesn't. Could it ever? Was it just borne out of grief for his son? And even if it had, then what? What was the plan? Haymitch's poster gets edited away. The Newcomers fail. Lenore Dove dies. The most you can say is Haymitch himself becomes too important to kill, like Beetee, and Snow let him live to fight another day, but so destroyed that he no longer WANTS to.

So, then, what WORKS?

The answer is, quite cynically, Plutarch's version of the world. Numbers mean something, there are more of US than there are of THEM , but that isn't enough. You need weapons, you can't bring a knife to a gun fight, you need EVERYONE on your side. You need organization, not just a series of disconnected rebellions, and you need an Army, provided by Thirteen, as problematic as they are. The timing just needs to be right. And most crucially, what I think Plutarch and everyone involved here learned is that victory belongs to those who control the narrative. Those who control the flow of information and tell their story. And it's not Plutarch, for all his cameras and his propos and his idea behind The Mockingjay, who eventually does that well.

It's Haymitch.

Who learned to tell a story and sell a narrative with himself and the Newcomers. Who tried to paint his poster in the arena only to see it rewritten in front of him. Who won't make that mistake again. When it's time for the deciding factor in the revolution, it's Haymitch who creates the Mockingjay-- and is he also using Katniss and her image? Yes. but he at least sees Katniss and the human she is inside it, unlike Plutarch who hasn't changed much from the man who makes a grieving family do reshoots over and over so he can get his footage, while congratulating himself for letting Haymitch have his goodbye.

When Katniss sets off the spark twenty five years later, the world is ready. The work is in place. Plutarch, Haymitch, Beetee, everyone can say GO , and this time it'll work. So buckle in, and wait for the Long Game, even though only Plutarch really has the privilege to wait, the rest of them don't have a choice. It's cynical. It's awful. People die. The lone rebels and the plucky girls and the alliance depending on its numbers all fail. Plutarch motherfucking Heavensbee, the richest of the rich the privilegedest of the privileged, pulls off the revolution, takes the credit, and lives to see the end of it, without ever once examining his own privilege, and unpacking the fact that despite his head being on the right side of history, he's never managed to see the Districts as PEOPLE . (and you could argue, ANYONE as people. ) But it's just the only way.

But this book isn't the middle of the series. It's the end. How awful would it be to read if we didn't know that Katniss and the Mockingjay rebellion would eventually succeed. We know that despite the cynism of a failed revolution and all its players, that one day it WILL work out. This book is called sunrise on the Reaping....the sun rises on a world where this is inevitable. But one day it won't be.

[bunnibombz]

Pt 3 because I can't stop thinking about him...

Links to pt 1 and pt 2

Alpha! Simon who wakes up later in the morning to the sound of thunder rumbling and the sweet taste of your slick against his lips. A deep groan buzzed through your body when he locked his arms around your waist to hold you down against his mouth, lips and tongue laving over your clit and clenching hole as you moaned and clutched at his hair

Alpha! Simon who can feel himself getting painfully hard again in the light of your arousal, the sound of rain against the window and the soft sounds of your pleasure dragging his eyes shut again as he smothered himself against you. Wanting to live in this moment with you forever.

Alpha! Simon who fucks you roughly on his fingers, trying to fight the burning instincts telling him to sink you down on his cock again. Wanting to respect John as your Alpha even though it made his jaw ache to think about leaving you after this.

"Easy Omega where's Price?" He asked as you moved down away from his mouth to rub your sticky cunt against his throbbing length.

"Makin' breakfast" you mumbled against the hot skin of his throat, where his scent was the strongest, the smell of your mixing pheromones had you grinding against him.

"Maybe I should go get him" Simon said, lifting you off easily and sliding to the edge of the bed. As he got up and was about to pull on his underwear he felt your hand grab at his hip. He turned before he thought and groaned probably too loudly when your lips made contact with his cock, standing at attention with a leaky tip as you kissed and sucked the skin of his shaft.

Alpha! Simon who can't help but thread his scarred fingers through your hair, fucking against your mouth as you swallowed around him with a moan that had his thighs shaking. He wanted to go get John and at least let him know that you were awake but goddamn if he was gonna try and pull you away when you were looking up at him so pretty, watery eyes and drool running past the tight seam of your lips as he bumped the back of your throat.

"N-Need to go get John" He stuttered, pulling hips back only for you to follow and suck him back against your tongue. "Lovie, come on-".

"No need" John's voice said from the doorway, cup of coffee in his hand when Simon looked over his shoulder. John stood from the doorway and walked around the bed, a soft smile on his lips when he saw you. John's heavy hand smacked down on your bare ass, drawing out a whine as his scent began riling up in the air.

"Ravenous isn't she, Simon?" He asked with a smirk, observing the multiple hickey's across the other Alpha's chest. "She'll drain you dry and keep asking for more". Simon could only grunt in agreement, not trusting his voice to reply as your tongue slithered across his sensitive head, fresh pre-cum running against your tastebuds.

Alpha! Simon who was paying no attention as John undid the tie on his sweatpants and got up behind you on the bed, didn't notice until you cried out with a warbling moan around his cock.

"My greedy little Dove" John cooed as he pressed a kiss against your spine, "Let's see how you handle two at once, maybe that'll tire you out".

[xavierfan]

more bre3ding/cr3amp1e p-links pls 🫣

warnings: sexual content below! p-links and sexually explicit descriptions are in this post

i genuinely don't know what to say anymore but this is sylus. on everyone's soul, THIS IS SYLUS

this one too

this too

sylus likes to fuck his seed back into you himself, he does so quite softly. it's an extremely intimate act when he does it, he's gentle and slow, and it's really not about possession to him. he just likes it— the warmth, the slickness, the sound, and the lewdness of it all.

> heavy breeding kink with no hints of possessiveness, he straight up just wants you to have his kid idfk. he would definitely say stuff like, "you're going to make a wonderful mother to our kids." / "kitten, one day you're going to get pregnant and i'm going to be so lucky." / "fuck, kitten, you want me to fuck my cum back into you, right? you want me to get you pregnant, right?"

idk why but this one gives me a caleb vibes

this one is also him

this one too

this too 😭😭😭

i keep adding caleb links im tweaking

caleb really enjoys watching his cum leak out of you. he would tease you, "pipsqueak, you're wasting it", as he just watches you squirm. to him, this is something akin to 'marking' you, walking up behind you later while out talking about, "think you're still leaky, pip."

> he's also probably got a crazy breeding kink mixed with a little —or a lot— bit of crazy obsession idfk, shit like "when your belly gets big, everyone's going to know who you belong to" / "one day i'm gonna get you pregnant" / "you'd look so good carrying my child, pips" / "if you let it all out, you'll hurt my feelings pips."

i think rafayel kind of goes feral once you let him cum in you... like he just keeps going idk

teasing him

rafayel is less breeding kink more crazy about you. loves anything to do with you, sex is not an exception, and he puts you on a pedestal a little differently to the rest of the boys. a bit like a mutt, you let him cum in you and suddenly he can't stop rutting into you, trying to chase another high.

> less breeding kink, more pathetic subby male who is so fucking excited to be fucking you. "fuck. fuck. fuck. 'm gonna cum again, please? please let me keep going?" / "princess, you feel soo good, please." / "princess, i'm sorry, let's keep going..." / "i'll be so good for you, princess, let me keep going."

sorry i know you specifically asked for breeding and i know this isn't but it still has cum ...

this is also zayne idk

zayne....

zayne rarely ever finishes inside of you, citing that it's not good for you, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to. idk how to explain it, he doesn't let himself finish inside of you because he's worried he'll lose self control.

> heavily likes the idea of breeding, like it probably takes everything in his body to not ram into you as he feels his balls squeeze, probably in your ear talking about "you'd look so beautiful pregnant." / "want to start a family with you." / "one day i'm going to get you pregnant, no need to worry." / "if you keep asking me to cum in you, i just might one day..."

i think xavier would like you fucking yourself with his cum... like shoving anything that comes out back inside

this one too

anotha one

xavier just wants to watch your fingers plug your hole up to prevent any more spillage. it brings a smile to his face to see how desperate you are to keep all of his seed inside of you, it probably gets him hard all over again prompting him to say something like, "don't worry, there's more where that came from."

> no specific breeding kink per say but likes the possessive element of pregnancy like caleb, "they'll know what we get up to at night." / "maybe when you're pregnant he'll stop coming up to you" / "want everyone to know how good you make me feel every night"

notes : i couldnt find that many links 😭😭😭 i've been searching all day so i'm sorry anon... pls forgive me... i hope the little blurbs makeup for the lack of links :(

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Yakuza - Valentine's Special

Romance is in the air and a certain yakuza is keen to teach you all about Valentine's traditions in Japan. Word Count: 4.2k Male Yandere x Fem Reader Mini Sequel to Yandere! Yakuza

As a hostess, you've been looking forward to Valentine's Day. Guests are notorious for spending big and tipping even bigger when romance is in the air.

One problem though. Your yakuza boyfriend does not approve.

"You don't have to work on Valentine's. My Family owns the club. I should get a say."

You ignore his complaining and the arms wrapped around your waist. You're focused on your makeup and no handsome, dangerous yakuza is going to distract you.

He changes tactics. "Onegaiya de? [Please?] Pretty please?"

You sigh and reach up to run your fingers through his hair. "Of course I want to stay home with you. But I need money. If you've forgotten, my brother still owes you. And besides, the house mother told me to come in today."

He frowns. "Naze? [Why?]"

"I'm very good at my job, that's why."

You manage to finish both your lashes and your lipstick before he speaks up again.

"Kurabu ni issho ni ikimasu. [I'm coming with you to the club.]"

You aren't surprised. It seems like he spends all his free time as your customer. As though being in a relationship isn't enough. As though he wants to have you both during and after work.

You turn and plant a kiss on his cheek. You leave behind a lipstick mark that he's in no hurry to wipe off. "If you want to spend all your money on me, I'm definitely not going to complain."

He grins in that lazy way of his and loops his arms fully around your waist. "Anata wa watashi no kanojodesu [you're my girl]. Who else would I spend my cash on?"

He drives you to work with one hand on your thigh. It gives you butterflies - the warmth of his skin bleeding through the fabric of your dress, the way he sometimes squeezes the meat of your leg like he subconsciously wants to remind himself that you're still there.

When he opens the car door for you, he brushes his lips past your ear. "Got a real nice surprise for you later."

You stop and pretend to fix your heels so you can look up at him through your lashes. "Is it the same surprise as last time? Because I loved that one."

Big, scary guy that he is, you think you can still see him swallow and freeze when you look up at him like that. He takes you hand and steadies you but the eyes that trace over your body are hooded, unreadable. "Not what I had in mind this time, no."

He inhales sharply when you step past him and 'accidentally' brush your hand over his belt.

"Too bad," you say, "I love that thing you do with your tongue."

It takes him a second to catch up with you. When he does, he wraps his arm around your waist and hisses in your ear.

"Anta, ijiwaruya na. [You unbearable tease]."

You can't help but smile. Personally, you'd describe yourself as an unbearable, romantic tease. It being Valentine's and all.

You're honestly looking forward to spending your shift with him. Even though he's started calling himself your kareshi, he still doesn't talk about himself much. You're not offended by it. There are a thousand little ways you've pieced together his past. The way he likes his sake hot and the way he turns his nose up at high end sushi, the way he holds his cigarette when he smokes and the way he can flick a match on his thumb. It all tells you a bit more than he'd probably like you to know. And each date you go on, each shift that he spends entirely focused on you, is just another opportunity for you to untangle the mystery that is your yakuza.

Unfortunately, the boss has other plans. You don't even get a chance to sit down before one of the other enforcers pulls him aside. He frowns at whatever the man is saying and then quickly presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Gomen ya de, daisukinahito. Shigotoya nen. [Sorry love. Gotta work]."

He's out the door before you can even object. The house mother narrows in on your table and less than a minute later she has a client seated across from you. She's built a habit of trying to cram as many customers into your schedule as possible when your boyfriend isn't around to steal you away. You can almost admire her dedication.

The first client of the night is a salaryman already happily flushed with drink. He tips you well, buys you several rounds of expensive drinks and gives you a drunken kiss on the cheek before he leaves. A very typical Valentine's date.

You get through a few more without any issues. Mostly businessmen not willingly to go home to an empty apartment. Your wallet gets noticeably fatter after each one. It's long past midnight when things finally go sour.

You're touching up your lipstick when the yakuza walk through the door. You can tell what they are at first glance. And worse, you know these aren't the usual guys.

You expect trouble. You aren't sure when you developed an instinct for yakuza business, but you know that the newcomers most definitely aren't part of the Family.

You try and watch them as subtly as you can. One of the regular enforcers goes up to meet them and - surprisingly - leads them to the back of the club.

The group passes right next to you. You keep your eyes on your compact and lipstick like you've never seen anything quite so interesting as YSL Loveshine. At the last second you look up, and straight into the eyes of a bleached blonde gangster with a mean smile. He must have been looking at you already, because he shoots you a playboy wink.

On instinct, you bow your head. Even if they weren't your Family, it wasn't a good idea to be caught lacking in respect.

When they're finally gone, you sigh in relief. Talk about scary. Those guys looked like their favourite pastime was baseball; the faces and knee cap variety.

You're about to get up and take your break when something makes you look over your shoulder. The blonde yakuza is leaning against the wall just outside the staff-only door. And looking straight at you.

Oh, please not today. You already have one yakuza in your bed and almost constantly blowing up you phone. You want absolutely nothing to do with Mr Tall, Blonde and Evil.

No such luck. He says something to the enforcer next to him and beelines towards you. Eyes locked on yours.

He slides in next to you - not across where a client would normally sit. You shift over to make room for him and wonder if there's something in the water that makes you particularly noticeable to men with a nicotine and tattoo addiction.

"Omae, jitto mi teruyan ka. Na n ya, kiniitta n kai, kawaī ko. [I noticed you staring. Like what you see, pretty girl?]"

His voice is raspier than your boyfriend's. And meaner too.

You can just...pretend to not speak Japanese. But one look at the blond's sharp, lazy smile tells you he'll know you for a liar the second you open your mouth.

"Omaeni mo onaji ko to kiitē wa, ikemen-san. [I could ask you the same thing, pretty boy.]"

He laughs, "She's got an attitude! Not scared of a big, scary yakuza?"

"Are you supposed to be telling me that about yourself?" You lean your chin on your palm and tilt your head. "What if I'm a cop?"

"Then you can put me in handcuffs right now." He let's his eyes roam down your body. "I'll happily do whatever you want, officer."

Okay. Pervert yakuza number two added to your collection. Could you get out of this somehow? A client is a client but you don't want to be next to him any longer than necessary.

"Don't you want a girl who can speak Japanese? I'm still not very good."

"What I want? We won't really be talking if we do what I want."

He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket and lights one with an easy flick of his lighter. He inhales deeply and let's the smoke out of his nose, like a dragon.

"You got a boyfriend?"

That really does seem to be the first question these guys ask you. What happened to 'how are you?' and 'here's a fat stack of cash, do you want it?'

"Yes." You shrug, like this is just a casual conversation with another client and not a rival with a gun under his suit jacket. "He's part of the Family."

"Wakatta wa. [I see]." He offers you a pull of his cigarette. You almost decline, but you look into his eyes - a dark hazel - and realise what a bad idea that would be.

He holds your gaze as he presses the cigarette against your lips. You pull on it as lightly as you can, the tip flaring a bright orange.

It burns your throat and you turn away from him to cough out the smoke. God, that stuff is awful. Why the hell is your man always lighting one if this is what they taste like?

When you turn back to him, the yakuza is studying the cigarette. Your lipstick left a stain on the filter. Slowly, he brings it to his lips and covers the place where your own lips were. He pulls in deeply and tilts his head back, eyes closed.

"Sweeter than normal," he breathes.

Nope. Nope. Nope. It's flattering really, but you aren't an idiot. You don't want your boyfriend's rival sitting so close to you, you don't want him looking at you with eyes like liquid honey and you most definitely don't want him calling you sweet.

If you could telepathically summon your boyfriend, you would. Unfortunately, he's busy with whatever it is they took him off to do, and you're stuck making conversation with a man who's arm keeps inching tighter and tighter around your shoulders.

You try to stand up and excuse yourself, but he wraps a palm around your thigh and pulls you back down without even trying.

"I need to pee," you tell him. He grins, cigarette casting his features in shadow.

"Perfect. I'm really thirsty."

Alright then. Ultimate host club perv discovered. It's almost a relief. You were worried your boyfriend would continue to hold that unenviable title.

You're about to say something - probably along the lines of it would go down even better with a vodka chaser - when your boyfriend finally arrives. You can tell it's him by the way he let's the door almost slam shut behind him. (You've tried working on that but every time you bring it up, he just says that you're so cute when you're bossy and won't you please take that tone with him later tonight?)

The blonde must have followed your line of sight, because his grip gets just a little tighter on you. "That your boyfriend?"

He's already heading toward your table and his frown spells trouble.

"Yep." You wonder if the blonde would listen to you if you tried to warn him away. You doubt it.

Your yakuza's hair is messy and his sleeves are still rolled to his elbows. He must have come straight from whatever job he got called away for.

He stops right in front of you, his arms crossed.

"Times up," he says simply. "Her shift is over."

The blonde takes another pull from his cigarette. "This your girl?"

Your boyfriend tenses, "Un. Kanojo wa watashi no monodesu. [Yeah. She's mine]."

You can almost feel the room getting colder. Your boyfriend flicks his eyes at the other yakuza standing at the back of the club.

"What are you doing here?"

"Boss had business with your side of things. Said I could throw back. Sample the goods." Blondie runs his palm up your thigh. "I'd have risked coming over ages ago, if I knew you had such cute pieces."

Your boyfriend narrows his eyes. "Times. Up. She's got another date waiting."

The blonde yakuza makes a show of looking at his wristwatch. "Looks like I've still got five more minutes."

"Your watch is late." Every word is bitten off and curt. You've seen him serious before, but never like this. Is this what he's like when he's working?

It's easy to forget his job when he's sprawled in your bed with his head on your chest, muttering about letting him sleep for five more minutes. It's easy to forget that he's a gangster who breaks faces for a living. That he's dangerous.

After tonight, you don't think you'll ever forget that fact. It's terrifying to be across from him, even if his glare isn't directed at you.

The moment stretches - taut, awfully tense. Finally, the blonde breaks.

"Tch. I've got shit to do anyway."

He stands up - and just when you're about to sigh in relief - kisses you right on the mouth. You jerk backwards, more surprised than anything else.

He straightens and runs his fingers over his lips. "Even sweeter than I thought."

You scramble out of the booth and grab your boyfriend's arm before he can do anything stupid. The muscles under your palms are already coiled tight and you're terrified to see what might happen if that strength is unleashed.

You bow in a quick, half hearted way. "O jikan o itadaki arigatōgozaimasu. [Thank you for your time]."

And then you're dragging your man out of the club before he can muster any objections.

It's only when the cold February wind is kissing your cheeks that you dare to look over at him. He's looking back at the club, eyes narrowed.

"How long?" he asks quietly.

"Barely even ten minutes," you half lie. "Really. He didn't do anything until you showed up, I promise."

You tug at his hand. "It's late. Let's go home, please?"

He finally looks at you, eyes flat and face blank. That scares you even worse than if he was frothing at the mouth and swearing.

"Alright," he says mechanically, "Let's go home."

Usually you take the train to work or he drives you. So when he starts walking, you don't immediately realise the streets are all wrong. His car is nowhere to be seen.

Even though Spring isn't that far off, this late at night the city is still icy. You wrap your arms around yourself and it doesn't take him long to notice.

"Koko. Kore o kite kudasai. [Here. Wear this]." He pulls off his suit jacket and drapes it across your shoulders. It smells like him - cologne and cigarettes. You aren't sure when, but at some point that scent became the one you associated with safety, with home.

It's quiet. You can't exactly ask him what work he did while he was gone and you most definitely aren't going to mention the club again.

He's the one who finally breaks the silence. "Purezento o moraimashita. [I got you a present]."

He did mention that earlier.

"Can I guess what it is?"

That earns you a half smile."Mochiron. [Sure]."

"Chocolate."

"No. Not this time."

"Hmm... Flowers?"

"They make you sneeze."

True. But what else would he have bought you for Valentine's?

"A puppy?"

He doesn't immediately reply. Eventually, "I really didn't think about that one. Do you...want a puppy?"

You first instinct is to say yes. Who wouldn't want a puppy? Despite having him, your brother, and your friends from the club, Japan is still a lonely place for you. A puppy would remind you of home.

But it would also make Japan your new home. In a way you aren't sure you want. In your mind, it still feels like you'll leave soon, be gone next week or next month, when this debt issue is settled. Even your boyfriend feels temporary. This isn't your country.

"No," you say eventually, "Not yet."

He must be thinking along the same lines as you because at your reply, his smile thins and he looks away from you.

"Nande ya, ano ko ni inu demo kattaro ka. Muriyari ore to ora setaru wa. [Shoulda got her a damn puppy. Force her to stay with me]."

You don't understand Japanese well enough to understand him when he changes his dialect. He manages a smile.

"Not a puppy either. Do you give up?"

You hate losing. You pull his jacket tighter around yourself. "...Yeah I give up."

He slows to a stop."Mewotojite. [Close your eyes]."

He takes your hand in his and lays something in your palm. You open your eyes to see a diamond necklace on a bed on midnight blue velvet. And it's definitely diamond - even in the neon soaked streets of the Red Light District, it sparkles. You gasp.

You're almost scared to touch it. It looks beyond expensive. Like something you pass in a store window and tell yourself maybe someday.

"You like it?"

You look up at him, eyes wide. "It's incredible. I've never... I've never owned something this beautiful."

He looks beyond smug. He plucks it out of the box and in one smooth move has it around your throat. His fingers brush the nape of your neck as he fastens the clip.

If you were on you own, you'd never dare to wear it out on the street. But only a colossal idiot would try and grab it off your neck when there was an armed yakuza right next to you. You shouldn't feel safer in the company of a criminal, but you do. God help you, you do.

He presses a kiss against your temple."Watashi no gārufurendo ni totte saikō no mono dake.[Only the best for my girl]."

It scares you a little - how much he's willing to spend on you. How are you supposed to repay a gift like this?

"Ie ni kaerimashou.[Let's go home]," he coos in your ear.

You laugh and loop your arm through his. "Want me to show you exactly how much I love my gift?"

"Yes." His voice is low and almost strained. "God yes."

It's only when you're halfway down the street that you remember you have something for him too.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" you spin away from him and dig through your handbag. "Ta-da! A hostess at work was telling me that it's usually the girls who give gifts on Valentine's."

You hand over the chocolate you bought him. It's a thick slab with Turkish delight in the centre. You've stuck a plethora of pink and red hearts to the box, each one with a sappy little quote in the centre.

You feel a little silly giving a gift like this to a yakuza of all people. But you also want to do something for your boyfriend, even if it is sickeningly romantic.

You picked up on him liking Turkish delight when your brother bought you a box, and it was mysteriously empty when you got home that day. Your yakuza claimed he didn't touch it, but he tasted suspiciously like rose candy when you kissed him.

He takes it from you carefully. "For me?"

You stand on your toes and loop your arms around his neck.

"Will you be my Valentine?"

He's quiet for a moment or two, looking at you like he just can't understand you. Finally, he pulls you into him and buries his face in your neck. He takes a deep breath, but when he speaks his voice is just a bit unsteady.

"Of course I'll be yours. Ore wa zutto omae no mon'ya de. [I'll always be yours.]"

A man with a rap sheet as long as a CVS receipt, and somehow he's yours.

You pull him closer against you. "Thank you. For taking care of me. For helping me out when you had no reason to."

He hums quietly against your neck. "Nan demo surude, honma ni nan demo. [I'll do anything for you. Anything]."

He pulls away and something in his face tells you he's just had an idea. He peels the hearts off the box and carefully folds them into his pocket. He breaks off a piece of chocolate and holds it up to your mouth.

You're immediately suspicious of the smirk on his face, but you oblige and let him prop the chocolate between your lips. He leaves a piece sticking out of your mouth and before you can bite it off, he leans forward and does it for you. His hand slips around the nape of your neck to keep you still.

His lips barely brush yours.

He pulls away looking extremely satisfied. You've kissed him so many times already but your heart doesn't care. You can hear your blood rushing through your ears.

"Sweet," he runs his thumb across your bottom lip and then presses it against his tongue. "Just how I like it."

Damn him for a devil and a half. It's so totally unfair how giddy and nervous he makes you feel.

He nods at the building behind you. "Good thing we're already home."

"Home?" Is this his apartment? He never brings you to his apartment.

He leads you to the elevator and to your surprise has to use a key card to access the highest floor. The buildings in this part of town are cramped for space but when the elevator dings open, it does so in a broad corridor lined with heavy doors. He must be earning much more than you realised, to have a place like this.

He pauses on the threshold.

"Gotta carry you in. It's tradition."

"Only if we're newlyweds."

"Not true," He blatantly lies, hands drifting down your back. "Brings you luck for the rest of the year."

Before you can object, he sweeps his arm under your knees and scoops you up bridal style.

"Risuku wa toritakunai de. Un wa zenbu hoshī wa. [Not taking any chances. I want all the luck I can get]."

You don't get to see much of his loft-style apartment before he drops you on his bed. One knee already pressing into the mattress next to your waist.

He drops his head down to kiss the column of your throat.

"You'll be wearing nothing except your necklace when I'm done with you," he promises, voice already dropping to a slurred, needy growl.

Oh my. That's a new one. And you always took him for the lacy lingerie type.

You tug at his shirt but with one twist of his hand, he catches both your wrists. "No. You first."

"Impatient aren't we?"

His hands are already skimming down your back and unzipping your dress.

"Oh you have no idea how patient I'm being."

His lips dip past your collarbones and then lower still. You arch against his chest, breathless.

At the last second he pulls away. You practically whine.

"Move in with me."

You blink. "What?" Is he really asking you this while you're in your bra and panties? And when there are much better things to do with his mouth?

"You heard me. Maiban beddoni ite hoshī. [I want you in my bed everynight]."

You frown. Wouldn't it be dangerous? More dangerous than working in a yakuza club and sharing his bed already was?

His grip on you tightens. He isn't smiling anymore. "You're my girl. You should stay with me. Not your brother. And sure as hell not on your own."

"I-"

He slides down your body until his head is between your thighs. "Good. I'll get someone to move your things tomorrow."

"Wait, I didn't say -" He does something with his tongue that makes you gasp and arch your back.

"No more objections?" he mocks. You're too breathless to answer.

"Ēyan. Kikitakatta kotoya wa. [Good. Just what I want to hear]."

He's awake long before sunrise. You're still curled under his sheets, lovebites littered across your neck.

He didn't give you a chance to notice them last night, but there's a bouquet of roses waiting for you on the nightstand.

He leans in the balcony door, cigarette smoke curling between his teeth. Just watching you.

His girl. His to touch. His to have. His to hold and keep.

Do you have any idea how lucky you are that it was him you ran into that night? If it was anyone else sent to collect your brother's debt, they'd have just left you to drown under the mountain of interest. Let it get so bad that you couldn't possibly pay your way out and then offer you a job at a soapland. Hell, that was his plan too when he first laid eyes on you. Pretty thing like you would have made a fortune as a yūjo.

But then you went and made him fall for you. It's selfish of him to want you. He knows it's dangerous to have you on his arm. That blonde bastard from last night was proof enough. He knows, and still...

You can't expect a criminal to be selfless. You can't show him something precious and expect him to let it go.

"My girl." He exhales a cloud of smoke and leans his head back. "Gonna make you my wife someday. You just don't know it yet."

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ sweet, sticky, thick, and pretty ❞

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : toji wants to give you another baby

☾₊‧⁺...cw : toji fushiguro x fem!reader, smut, penetrative sex, pre-established relationship, overstimulation, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, rough sex, begging, smug and cocky reader, feral toji

☾₊‧⁺...a/n : this is a post from my old blog but i revamped it and i really wanted to share this again because i was really proud of it. and yes, it's another breeding kink + pregnant kink. consider it a part two, since it takes place after megumi is born

toji never thought he’d get off on the idea of having another kid with you.

yet here he is, dick hard in his sweatpants as he thinks about you carrying his baby again...how you'd start to fill out all over again, that cute chubbiness coming back, how he'd have an excuse to dote on you whenever you complained about the simplest of things.

it starts off with how he sees you coo over megumi, calling him your sweet baby. you're such a good mother, too, it's clear you'd likely be the favorite parent to that little brat.

but god, does he find it attractive just seeing you be a mom to the kid that he gave you.

the day you ask megumi what he wants for his upcoming 4th birthday at dinner, neither one of you is prepared for the words that come out of your son's mouth.

“i want a baby sister,” he states bluntly as he chews on the steamed carrots, looking at you and toji. it was clear from how confident the little guy is that he's put a lot of thought into this.

“but, i don’t want her to look like daddy. he’s ugly, i want her to look like mommy.”

little brat. you straight up choke, trying to stop the laugh-coughs as toji looks at his son, offended. this really is his son, because who else but you and the kid he made with you could have the nerve to say shit like that to him?

“twerp, you look just like me, you realize that, right?”

megumi huffs, looking at his dad in the cutest little glare. “that’s 'cause i'm a boy, though," he explains as if it's obvious, his precious little cheeks puffed up as he stuffs more of his food in his mouth.

"my sister has to be like mommy. you’d be an ugly girl, daddy.” toji just rolls his eyes, pinching the cheeks of the mini him, ignoring his protests. as the two bicker, you think. would it...really be that bad to have another baby? you always wanted a girl, after all, and toji took such good care of you and megumi...it couldn't be that bad. “well, uhm,” you begin, catching the attention of toji, an unfamiliar smile on your face.

there's a mischievous look on your face right now, his eyes narrowing as he waits for your response. whatever you're about to say is either going to haunt him for the next few days or make him roll his eyes at you.

“i'm sure daddy and i can work something out for you, 'gumi, but let’s think of some other things, too, m'kay?” 

ah.

you went the haunting route.

ignoring the little cheer his son let out, toji can't hide the disbelieving look that crosses his face when he processes what you just said.

'daddy'?

you've said the word, sure, usually when you talk to megumi about him. but something was different about how you said it, the way you looked at him when you said it, the barely visible flutter of your eyes...a silent promise there'd definitely be a deeper conversation about it later.

the very day megumi has a sleepover with the neighbor's kid, yuuji, toji is mentally cheering. he loves his son with all his heart, he truly does, but having a toddler in bed meant limited contact with his pretty wife.

it's only been 3 days since that little comment you made and it's been on toji's mind constantly. every time he tried to bring it up with you, megumi would interrupt and toji was not being the reason his son ended up traumatized because he overheard mommy and daddy talking about making babies in the kitchen.

"bye, gumi! make sure you behave for mr. nanami, okay? have fun with yuuji," you coo as you press two kisses to your son's cheeks, snapping toji back to the present.

"see ya, kid, be good," toji says, giving a nod of acknowledgement to nanami. megumi barely says goodbye before he runs after yuuji to the car, his run a bit awkward because of his overnight backpack.

waving goodbye to nanami, you shut the door, turning to look at toji with that smile as you.

"hi, toj."

you think you're so cute, don't you?

"hey, mama."

toji can't even lie, you are. wearing his t-shirt and sweatpants? yeah, your the cutest thing he's ever laid eyes one. his hands rest on your hips, pulling you flush to his chest. fuck, you weren't even doing anything but he could already feel himself getting hard just from looking at you.

he's never been so whipped in his life.

"d'you wanna talk," you murmur lowly, your finger running over the thin silver chain on his neck. "we could go to the bedroom...and talk about the baby thing."

toji's eyes darken at the suggestion, knowing exactly what would happen the moment you both go into the bedroom. "yeah. think it's 'bout time we talked about it," he hums as he grips your wrist, tugging you to your room.

as soon you both step foot into the bedroom, toji hungrily presses your lips against his, letting out a deep groan. "had me thinkin' about knockin' you up again all fuckin' week, mama," toji sighs against your lips, tongue running over your lower lip.

"wanted to stuff you full so fucking bad."

feeling you sigh so prettily into the kiss, his doesn't hesitate to shove his tongue in your mouth, hands busying themselves as they push your (his) sweats down off your hips before guiding you back to the bed.

you knew he would get excited over your comment, but you didn't think it would be to the point where he was rutting into you as he practically devoured you, feeling your back hit the bed.

“you want to give our 'gumi a sister? wanna be a mommy again," he questions, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours. one of his hands slithers up under the oversized t-shirt to cup one of your tits and roughly knead it, his thumb just barely grazing over your nipple.

"wanna have another kid with big, bad toji? tsk, poor cunt missed gettin' stuffed full of cum?" 

you just hum a little breathless. your hand comes up to cup his cheek, looking from his lips back up to his eyes. he's so handsome when he's over you like this, his chain dangling right in your face.

“maaaaybe. megumi just made me think about it, 's all. you've been a good dad t' him, how could i not want to give you another one,” you coo, guiding him closer so you can press a kiss against the scar on his lip. 

“besides…”

toji grunts when he feels your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him flush against you so you can feel the thick, heaviness of his arousal through his sweatpants.

“don’t you want me to make you a daddy again, toji? c'mon, knock me up, big guy.”

after those words leave your pretty little mouth, toji is on you as he realizes that you're 100% going to give him the worse breeding kink ever.

"'m gonna fuckin' ruin you," he growls into your ear. you aren't given a second to protest before he's ripped your panties off, complaints falling on deaf ears. the tips of his fingers gently run over your puffy pussy lips, your slick wetness coating his fingers.

"fuck, mama, you're soaked already." his eyes are focused on your face as you squirm and whimper when he swirls little circles into your clit, an evil smirk on his face. "can't wait to fill you up 'til you're dripping with my cum, doll."

you can't stop your hips from trying to grind into his hand, eyes rolling back when he teased your entrance. "toji, c'mon, baby, i need you s'bad."

"baby, you know you can't take me without prep," he coos at you. he can feel how hot and slick you are, finally, finally slipping two of his fingers inside your cunt. and oh, the way you arch your back a little bit with a pleading whine of his name is so, so pretty, you're so fucking cute.

"mmn, maybe y'don't need prep, you just sucked my fingers right in," he says huskily before pressing a little kiss to the corner of your mouth. "you wanna try, mama? wanna see if you can fit my cock in you? really gonna feel that stretch, though, babe," toji warns, knowing you can't give a sensible answer when he starts pumping his fingers in and out.

when it seems like your about to answer him, the only thing that escapes your mouth is a shaky moan, his thick fingers curling to hit just the right spot inside of you that has you gushing. unable to form words, you tug on his shirt and nod frantically, just wanting to feel toji stuffing you full.

"yeah? you wanna try?" toiji pulls his fingers out of you, chuckling when you whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness. he pops his fingers in his mouth, cock throbbing at the addictive taste of your cunt on his tongue. "c'mon, we're both wearing too much, let's get you outta that shirt, ma."

you waste no time throwing the shirt off, not even giving him the chance to undress you. but once your shirt is off, you're practically ripping off his stupid black t-shirt that made his pecs look fucking delicious and those damn sweatpants and boxers that hid your prize.

as you fuss over his boxers, toji takes a moment to look at you spread out on the bed before him. you still had a bit of chub on you, tummy nice and soft and cute, just how he likes it. if he knew where his phone was, he'd take a picture of you right now; frustrated, horny, naked, and pretty. all for him.

"tojiiii, stop staring and kick off your stupid boxers, you're getting on my nerves!"

you can't even look him in the eye as you say that because you're too busy staring right at his cock, a thick bead of precum formed at the tip. the lick of your lips told him everything he needed to know, but he wasn't fucking your mouth, not tonight at least.

"what? i can't look at my own wife," he asks with a raised eyebrow, biting back a laugh when you swat at his hand that pinches one your puffy nipple. "tch, so rude, doll."

before you can snap back at him, he brushes the swollen head of his cock against your slick folds, smearing your wet over the tip. that shuts you up quickly and toji has to hold back another laugh. always so fussy until he finally gives you what you want. he's spoiled you rotten.

"toji," comes a soft whine, so soft he nearly misses it. your eyes are focused between your legs, lower lips between your teeth as he teases you with his cockhead. you huff, pushing your hand against his chest to give you enough space to shift positions, knowing exactly what would get him to stop teasing you.

once you roll over, you shift so that you're face down, ass up, you hand slipping between your thighs to spread your sticky pussy open, slick dripping down your fingers. "tojiiii, please? please, baby, stop teasing an' put a baby in me...please, hubby, give your wife what she wants."

any other whines or begs are interrupted when his hand comes down hard on your ass. he was going to give you what you wanted, what you both wanted. he was going to fuck you, fill you up with all his cum and whatever leaked out? he’d make sure to push it back in, whether with his fingers, mouth, or tip of his dick. 

when he finally pushes into you, he just lets out the most wrecked groan you’ve heard from him yet, each inch sinking into you stretching those tight walls just a bit more.

"holy shit...fuuck me, baby, too fucking tight, you're strangling my cock," he hisses, fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he gave you inch after inch.

god, just the thought of fucking you not just to feel good, but to fill you up, get you to take his seed deep inside to give him another kid? it's fucking with his head, his wife was gonna be the death of him.

both of you moan once he's all the way inside. you feel so full, his cock is too fucking big it doesn't make any sense and you genuinely think you should've let him fully prep you...but shifting your hips just a little bit has his tip pressing against something sinful. you whine and reach back to grab at one of his hands on your waist, turning to shoot him a mean glare as you demand, “stop stalling n’ knock me up, toji." 

who is he to deny what his wife asks?

using a hand to steady himself on the headboard, his hips begin to move slowly, pulling out just an inch and pushing forward again. "so tight 'n' warm..." each thrust hits deeper and more powerful than the last as toji begins to pick up speed, the thickness of his cock hitting every deep part of you.

it's almost too much, but you don't want him to stop, especially not when toji started running his mouth.

“shit, look at you, baby…takin’ it like a champ.”

now you really wish you stayed on your back, then at least you could've slapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up. you drop your head down against the mattress with a moan, starting to move your hips to match his thrusts, the room filling with the sound of skin slapping on skin.

“fuuck, c'mon, throw that ass back on me, thaaaat’s it, good girl.” 

he starts pounding into you harder when he feels you tightening up on him. the sweet moans and adorable words of “gimme more,” “baby, please,” or “s’ too good, toj,’” only pushing him to get even deeper, to get you to cum so he could stuff you full.

he coos when he sees you starting to scramble up further on the bed, away from his relentless fucking. he knows that he found that sweet spot that would have you creaming in minutes.

"tsk, you just never fuckin' learn, huh? 's always gonna be too much for you, isn't it," he huffs as his hand finds its way into your hair, tugging your head back to keep you from moving more. “hey. hey, nonono, don’t run away from it, lemme have it," he coos at you, following you up the mattress.

you never change, always swearing up and down that you wouldn't run from his cock, that you'd be able to take him. you wanted this, you wanted your precious husband to fuck another baby into you, t'give 'gumi a little sister, s’ i’m gonna give it to you.”

toji may sound like he’s still put together, but he’s just thankful you can’t see his face since yours is pressed into the pillows at the top of the bed.

you can’t see how he’s barely holding himself together, trying his hardest not to let himself go too much. the last thing he needs is to cum before you, knowing that while you wouldn’t mind, he’d be annoyed for breaking his streak.

he’s brought back into the present when you manage to turn your head a little, able to look him in the eye, and god, does he love what he sees.

your mouth is open as you moan for him, eyes lidded and focused on only him. he sees the little tears gathered in them, not quite spilling over but the fact that they’re there tells him he’s the one making you feel that good. 

“tuh-toji, ’m gonna cum, gonna cum—!”

"yeah?" hearing you moan so sweetly for him only makes toji smirk, fingers digging into your hips as he helps you meet each thrust. “gonna make a mess f'me already? poor little cunt can't handle gettin' fucked so good? mmn, shit, 's okay, baby. let go for me, mama, cum on daddy’s cock.” 

"t-tojiiiii," you shakily moan, nearly ripping the sheets as you cum suddenly. it was his voice, the way he tried to sound put together but you could hear how desperate he was to feel your pussy clamp down on him and get his cock nice and messy.

toji's deep, guttural moans mix with your cries when he unexpected is pushed over the edge, the way you desperately grinded back against him causing him to swear under his breath as he lost his pace, groaning your name as he emptied into you. it felt so hot, the pulsating warmth of his tip nudging against your cervix paired with his thick cum filling you up dizzying the both of you. 

you expect some kind of snarky comment from toji, trying to catch your breath so you could reply when he said it. but nothing comes (you have to stop yourself from laughing at the pun). you turn to look back, sighing when toji pulls out of you. usually he stayed inside, leaning down to tease you for cumming so fast...but he didn't.

something was wrong and for some reason, you felt like your pussy was in danger.

“toj…?”

he didn’t answer. he probably didn’t even hear you, not with the way he was looking so intensely at the mess between your thighs. the mess he made. toji doesn’t know what comes over him, his hands practically moving on their own as he moves you over onto your back, then moving his hands down to your sensitive hole and spreading. 

the scene in front of him just breaks him. you let out a soft whine, hips gently rolling into his hands. his eyes stay stuck between your legs—sharp and focused—as they watch the thick globs of his hot cum drip out of your hole and down onto the bed sheets.

the groan that leaves him is sinful, and once you make eye contact with him, you realize how fucked you are. he’s hard again, almost making you believe he didn’t cum if it weren’t for the creamy sheen of his cum on his throbbing dick and the hotness of his dripping out of you. before you know it, toji’s climbing over you, making sure your legs get pushed over to his shoulders as he pushes you into a mating press.

yeah.

you're fucked.

you keep making eye contact, and now that he’s so close to you, you see how crazed he looks. his eyes, completely black due to his blown pupils, have an unhinged look in them, and the half smirk on his face only makes you worry about your ability to walk the next day.

“t-toji, if you need a break to calm down, then-oh!” 

he shuts you up by pushing himself inside you, loving how your eyes cross so prettily. he has you now, you can't run away from the overstimulating feeling of him fucking you in this position. and when you feel his hands come up and lock together on your head to really keep you in place, you feel yourself gush all over his cock at the simple display of how strong he was compared to you.

you're so fucked.

all you can do is moan and cry out his name, hands grabbing whatever part of him they could reach. but he doesn't let you break eye contact, keeping you close to his face so he could see every little expression. and fuck, does he like what he sees.

“t-tojiii, t’ deep, t’ deep!”

“wan’ me t’ stop? t’ stop fuckin’ this messy hole?”

“fuck, y-you stop, and I’ll c-choke the shit out of yo-ouh!”

“that’s it, take it, take daddy’s cock, mama, lemme breed you.”

everything about this position is driving both of you crazy.

the closeness has you reeling, the way toji just cannot bring himself to break eye contact, needing to see what he was doing to you.

his thick cock is hitting deep, almost too deep, with the way each thrust of his hips causes the tip to press into the sweet spot inside you every. single. time. 

he has you for the whole day and the whole night, he's going to make sure you're stuffed entirely and doesn't plan on stopping until either you tell him you need a break or until he can't cum anymore. and even then, he doesn't think anything will be able to get him out of your cunt.

but with the way he just moaned into your mouth, thick spurts of more cum coating your insides…and the way he didn’t get soft, instead pressing you even deeper into the mattress as he began to pound into you with a groan of how much he loved your pussy…

you were sure it would be a while until he was done with you.

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