#not a The Kinds Of Things It Makes Look So Normal way

[heich0e]

"so... how's work?"

you accidentally click the edge of your wine glass against your teeth as you tip it back, jarred by the strange question from the man standing at your side. you swallow the tiny mouthful of wine you manage to sip, turning to look at suna in bewilderment.

"work?" you ask him incredulously. "why are you asking me about work?"

suna rintarou doesn't care about what you do for work. truthfully speaking, you're not sure he even knows what you do for work—you certainly don't remember ever telling him, and the memory would stand out quite starkly considering all you ever seem to do when you run into him is bicker with him uselessly.

suna is a friend of a friend. or a friend of some friend's ex. or something. all you know is that every so often the two of you end up at the same social event, and there's something about the guy's face that just... makes you want to pick a fight.

and he has yet to turn down your instigation.

your friends all think it's funny—like you're some kind of comedy duo, and this is your special bit—but you don't see the charm in the slightest. you suspect they've started inviting you both to events just to have some entertainment.

"what?" rintarou asks, fiddling with his cellphone in his hand—pinching it between his thumb and his ring finger while he twirls it with his index. "i'm not allowed to ask about work? isn't that normal small talk for a christmas party?"

you're a little taken aback by his words. first of all, because he's right (which you hate). second of all, because he seems strangely defensive about it.

"normal for other people, maybe," you mutter, more to yourself than anything, before taking another tiny sip of wine. you swallow it, but somehow it doesn't help the dry feeling in your mouth. you're not sure you like this particular wine, you think, as bitterness clings to your tongue. "work is... fine."

suna perks up beside you at that, and you feel his eyes on your profile like he's waiting for you to go on.

"things get, uh... things get slow this time of year, so I'm mostly just answering stupid emails and ordering gifts online while i sit at my desk." you swirl the glass of wine in your hand, watching the way that the light catches in the deep red surface. "my section chief has kids and loves the holidays, so she's been pretty checked-out lately, herself. makes it easy to get away with slacking off."

you risk a glance over at him, and are somewhat dismayed to find him listening intently.

"must be nice to get a little break," he offers.

"yeah, i guess," you reply. your words are in agreement with him, but still your brow furrows.

what the fuck is going on?

you look around the room, as though checking for a hidden camera, or some other sign that might give away what the hell this guy's motives are. but around you is simply a room of friends enjoying each other's company—sipping drinks; eating finger foods the hosts had been carefully set out to graze on; chatting amongst each other about their lives, their holiday sweaters, their work.

everything seems totally normal, other than what's transpiring in the quiet corner where you and suna rintarou find yourselves standing side by side.

"how is... your... work?" you manage to ask, though it sounds as though the question is pulled from you with considerable effort. stiff and strained in every way a question so innocuous doesn't have any right to be.

suna laughs a little under his breath, masks it with a clearly fake cough, and then rests his hand over his mouth. he's smirking. you know he is. he's revelling in every second of your discomfort like the twisted little freak he is.

you're about to tell him as much, but he cuts you off.

"it's good," he replies to your pained question with an unexpected sincerity. "we're coming up to the half-way point in the season, so training is still pretty intense. we do get a day off for the holiday though."

right, he's a volleyball player. you'd learned that upon your first meeting, before your opinion of him was quite so hostile. you remember thinking at the time that he looked like a volleyball player—tall, lean, with big hands that made the beer can he'd been holding look almost laughably small in comparison.

you glance down at those hands again, still idly fidgeting with his cellphone. he's not drinking a beer tonight, and you wonder if maybe it's because he's in the middle of his season.

you think about asking him.

but you don't.

suna seems to be waiting for you to say more, but when you don't, he continues on the conversation himself. "i thought about taking the train to hyogo for the day, but it wouldn't really make sense just to go visit for a few hours."

you take another sip of your wine. you decide that you do not in fact enjoy it.

you hum a bit, ditching your mostly full glass on the edge of a table that rests within reach. "tough to just make a day trip, especially since the weather's so..." you trail off, gesturing vaguely with your now empty hand in a way that's supposed to indicate the unreliability of the winter climate.

suna laughs.

you look at him in confusion.

"the weather?" he asks you, rubbing at his mouth again like he trying to hide the expression underneath his fingertips. it might work if his eyes didn't crinkle at the corner when he smiles. "we're talking about the weather now?"

your lips part indignantly at his jibe. he's the one who'd initiated this hellscape of small talk, and now he had the nerve to chide you for it?

"oh, i'm sorry," you guffaw, feigning remorse, "is there some pressing matter you'd rather discuss?"

rintarou dips closer to you from his greater height, and the fact that he's so much taller than you are only irritates you more.

"there is actually," he says with a nod.

"oh, yeah?" you roll your eyes, gearing up for a fight. you turn to face him properly, tilting your chin up to meet him eye to eye without wavering. "and what's that?"

"are you aware that we've been standing under mistletoe for the entirety of this conversation?"

you slowly look overhead.

like something out of a horror film, you find that for once in his life (or at least the few months you've known him) suna's chosen to say something factual. overhead, a little bundle of mistletoe has been affixed to the ceiling with a piece of tape that seems to barely be hanging on—the decoration at risk of falling at any moment.

you feel sick.

"so what?" you ask him, swallowing down that feeling of dread and maintaining (what you hope is) an air of indifference.

"so that means we're supposed to kiss," he tells you matter-of-factly, almost a bit pointedly, like he can't believe you didn't know.

"i'm aware of that," you hiss. "i don't, however, bend to the whims of plants, as a general rule."

"weird rule," he remarks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

you feel a throb of irritation behind your eyes.

"you're the one who came over here to bother me," you point out. "if you knew there was mistletoe hanging up there, that means this is your fault."

suna shrugs a bit.

you keep going, your pulse thrumming beneath your tongue and fanning the flames of irritation churning in the pit of your stomach.

"if anything, that makes you the weird one for coming up with some scheme to trick me. we're not children. if you wanted to kiss me so bad you could have just aske—"

"can i kiss you?"

what?

"i asked if i can kiss you," rintarou says, and you're not sure if that means you voiced your thought aloud or it was just plainly written across your face. he inches closer to you, and though you would usually shift away to accommodate for the intrusion, the table where you'd discarded your glass of wine keeps you mostly trapped in place. pinned. cornered. "you said that if i wanted to kiss you, i should ask. so, i'm asking if i can kiss you."

why?

suna sighs after a moment of contemplating the look of abject shock on your features, slumping forward and resting his forehead on the wall beside your head, caging you against the wall with his lanky frame. you can't breathe with him this close—too startled by the proximity and the warmth radiating from him to even think about drawing air into your lungs. too confused by this entire situation to meet your basic human needs.

"you really don't get it, do you?" he asks quietly. he's so near that you feel his words more than you hear them—especially since they were spoken so quietly just next to your ear.

"get what?" your own voice sounds distant—sounds strange—to you when you finally manage to speak.

suna pulls back just far enough to meet your gaze, and you're shocked to see just how pink his face is. he looks mortified—and desperate—as his eyes find yours. he tilts his face towards you, and when he speaks again you feel the warmth of his breath break against your lips.

"you're the only person in this room who i'd enjoy listening to talk about the weather."

and it's not until much later, when the lingering bitterness from the wine has been replaced by something much sweeter (though entirely unexpected) on your tongue, that you realize rintarou was the only person in the room tall enough to reach the ceiling.

a/n: for nana, who forced me to write this entirely against my will but whom i love dearly in spite of it

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

Christmas Karaoke | E.M.

He wasn't a Christmas guy, being the town freak and his all together hatred of capitalist bullsh*t, but when he saw you smile like that, your eyes dancing like the twinkle bulbs, he thought maybe he could be.

feat. Eddie Munson x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You go out to Christmas karaoke with your friends Robin, Steve, Vickie, and Eddie and get a little wild, liquid courage and some classic carols giving you the push you need to claim your man.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, eddies pov, drinking/getting drunk, protective!eddie, mentions of blood/fighting, eddie is the sweetest (and filthiest) man alive, oral (f&m), dirty talk

Eddie flipped down the visor on the van, checking his hair and making sure he didn't have an spaghetti sauce on his chin from dinner at Wayne's. The van was idling outside your door, thick clouds of steam obscuring the outside world.

He was picking you up for Christmas Karaoke with Steve, Robin, and Vickie at the Hideout. It was a normal thing, he'd picked you up countless times for countless reasons, so why the fuck were his hands shaking on the steering wheel?

He clenched his hands, knuckles white and rings digging into his skin, and tried to take a deep breath. Things had started to change for him over the summer, after Eddie got into a fight with a handsy lifeguard at the pool.

He wasn't a violent man, truly. But when that fucker put his hands on your skin, sun kissed and dripping with chlorinated water, and your face screwed up with disgust and fear, he saw red.

It took an hour to clean the blood from his rings, and you'd been gracious enough to help him. Cramped into the trailer bathroom, scrubbing at his Cthulhu ring with some Palm Olive and an old toothbrush, your brow crinkled in concentration.

Now, he couldn't even wash the fucking dishes without thinking of you.

Every since that afternoon, he was a nervous wreck around you, clumsy and awkward, though you were too sweet to ever comment on it. You were oblivious to the change in him, at least as far as he knew.

He flipped up the visor and sagged into his seat, turning that Cthulhu ring on his middle finger. It was just karaoke, he could do this—

“Hey, Eds!” You chirped, tugging open the van door and climbing in.

His greeting died in his throat when he saw your outfit. Leather mini shirt and ripped tights, heavy boots, eyeliner…and what had to be the ugliest patchwork Christmas sweater he'd ever seen.

But somehow, you made it look sexy as fuck.

“What? Too much?” You asked, pulling at the hem of your sweater with a smirk.

Eddie clapped a hand over his eyes, letting go of the wheel. “You're gonna have to drive, babe. My eyes have melted from the hideousness.”

You laughed, the sound like Christmas bells, and swatted his arm. “It's not that bad! Robin helped me!”

“It's grotesque.” He smiled, dropping his hands to start driving. “And I love it—”

“You do?” You beamed so brightly, he almost didn't finish his sentence.

“Sure! The way I love “Night of the Walking Dead”, or when Ozzy bit the head off that bat—”

“Ha ha, go fuck yourself.” You stuck your tongue out at him and he huffed a laugh.

“I'm teasing you,” he chuckled, adjusting the radio to your preferred station. “It's perfect. And only you could pull of that kind of monstrosity.”

You smiled, settling into your seat, and cranked up the music.

It took a concerted effort for Eddie to keep his eyes on the road. The color splashed against your skin was so pretty, and the soft smile on your face every time he passed a particularly elaborate house made his heart forget how to beat.

He wasn't a Christmas guy, being the town freak and his all together hatred of capitalist bullshit, but when he saw you smile like that, your eyes dancing like the twinkle bulbs, he thought maybe he could be.

“So, will we get a Corroded Coffin performance?” You asked, jarring him from his fantasies.

He snorted. “Unlikely.”

“I’m sorry, you, Eddie Munson, who sings more than he speaks, aren't going to participate in karaoke?”

“It's not like Judas Priest has a Christmas song,” he chuckled. “I don't have the range for Sinatra. Though I'm flattered you think so.”

“What if I pick it for you?” You asked, batting those doe eyes at him.

He sighed, thunking his head back against the headrest. “Stop lookin’ at me like that, it's not fair.”

“Like what?” You tilted your head, cherry glossed lips pursing slightly.

He wanted to sink his teeth into that pout, see a sticky ring of your lipgloss around his—

“Fine, fuck. One song.”

“Yay!” You leaned across the seat, planting a smacking kiss on his cheek, and he nearly swerved off the road in his shock. “You won't regret this.”

“I don't believe that for a second, sweetheart,” he said, praying you chalked his blush up to the multi-colored lights.

“Oh god, not you too,” Steve said when you bound towards him through the crowd, Eddie on your heels.

“You love it, Harrington,” you teased, stealing the beer in his hand and taking a few, long gulps. Steve and Eddie’s eyes met over your head, both wide with surprise.

“Woah there!” Robin said, appearing to Steve’s left, dressed in an equally ugly sweater. “That kind of night?”

You set the now mostly empty beer on the counter. “Yep. What's a Mistletoe Mayhem?” You called out to Nick, the bartender.

Nothing good, Eddie thought.

“Green and sparkly,” the bartender replied.

“Perfect,” you grinned, slapping your ID on the counter.

“Make that two!” Robin chimed in, and Steve groaned.

“I want one!” Vickie emerged from the dance floor, also wearing a hideous sweater, though it was tied around her waist.

“Three Mayhem's coming up,” Nick chuckled, skimming ids before passing them back and moving down the bar.

“And can I get another beer? No? Alright,” Steve sighed, leaning back against the bar. “What's up, Munson?” He said, waving Eddie over.

Eddie tore his eyes away from where you were gushing with Vickie over the bars tiny Christmas tree and moved towards Steve.

“Oh, nothing. Kids have been asking me to put together a festive quest for our session tomorrow. Best I can do is Krampus.”

Steve chuckled, smiling when the pretty female bartender slid him and Eddie some beers. “Not into Christmas, huh?”

“Are you?”

“Nah, Mom was always the Hallmark family Christmas type, just felt so phony, y’know?”

“I do. Poor Harrington with his mountains of presents and immaculately decorated house,” Eddie teased, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“It wasn’t a mountain.”

“Oh, I apologize. A rather large hill of presents.”

“Three Mayhem's up!” Nick called, and the three of you bound out of the crowd like puppies called for dinner. Nick set down three fishbowls full of green, glittery liquid, topped with cranberries and limes, and a sprig of mistletoe.

Steve wrinkled his nose. “That looks dangerous.”

Eddie agreed, but held his tongue.

You took a big sip, needing two hands to hold the giant glass, and immediately pulled a face before unleashing a hundred kilowatt grin. “Very dangerous,” you hummed, taking another sip, and Eddie felt his cock twitch to life at the wicked gleam in your eye.

It was going to be a long night.

Karaoke began half an hour later, with Steve and Robin kicking things off with a dramatized rendition of “Baby, It's Cold Outside.”

Eddie was following you around the bar like a shadow, scaring away anyone foolish enough to look at you twice. But you were none the wiser, already buzzed and dancing around like a Christmas elf on crack.

You were already one Mayhem deep, and he bribed Nick to tell you they were out of the mix to spare the consequences of a second. But you just ordered a double margarita instead, so his efforts, and $20, were forfeit.

But Eddie was more than happy to be your guard dog for the evening, so long as you were having fun and safe. It's what any good friend would do. But when he ran into Gareth and they started talking about the new Slayer album, he lost track of you.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath, surveying the crowd for your sweater. But with the fog and throbbing multi-colored lights, it was impossible to see anything clearly. “Excuse me,” he said, interrupting Gareth in the middle of a sentence.

He bee-lined to the high top where your friends sat.

“There he iiissss!” Robin yelled, waving her beer glass in the air. “Where ya been Edward-ed-son?”

“Have you seen y/n?” He asked, mostly to Steve, who appeared to be the only other sober person on the entire establishment.

“Thought you had her.” Steve shrugged. “Got my hands full.” He nodded towards Robin and Vickie, who were now loudly singing along to the karaoke.

“I did, but then Gare—”

The crowd erupted in applause as the song ended, cutting Eddie off.

“That was greeeaaat, Tina. Now, let's welcome y/n singing a classic, ‘Santa Baby’!”

Eddie whirled around to the stage and your friends burst into cheers. You sauntered out in your little skirt and insane sweater, grinning ear to ear as the spotlight swung towards you.

“Found her,” Steve chuckled, pulling out the chair beside him for Eddie.

Eddie dropped into it, rolling his eyes and laughing. He should have known. “What's ‘Santa Baby'?” Eddie asked as the song started.

Steve gave him a sympathetic look and clapped him on the back. “Oh, you'll see.”

You stepped up to the mic, the one Eddie's used on countless occasions, and wrapped your little hands around it. Something about it being his mic your lips were so close to made the primitive part of his brain purr with delight, and he relaxed into his seat, hiding his growing erection under the table.

Steve slid his beer to Eddie, who took a grateful sip, his mouth dry as the desert.

“Santa Baby, just slip a Sable under the tree, for me,” you sang, your voice breathy and so sweet. “Been an awful good girl.”

Your eyes locked on Eddie and he nearly choked, his cock lurching painfully against his jeans, heart pounding in his ears.

Surely you didn't mean to look directly at him, right? He had a habit of searching you out during shows too, you were probably just mirroring that. Looking for a familiar face in a sea of strangers.

“Santa Baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.” You dragged your hands down the mic stand, swaying your hips to the music, and Eddie thought he might faint.

He maybe would have, if it wasn't for the roaring men pushing towards the front of the stage drawing his attention.

But your eyes were still locked on him, ignoring them entirely, and he gave you an encouraging thumbs up. He wasn't about to let his stupid crush, or a bunch of leering creeps, ruin your fun.

You kept singing, your voice a little wobbly, but airy in that way that made his pants tighten and his mind wander to places it definitely shouldn't. You looked so beautiful up there, laughing and swaying to the music, that Eddie found himself smiling too.

“Lookin’ a little lovesick there, Eds,” Steve teased, nudging him with his elbow.

Eddie waved him off. “Nah, just making sure she has someone that isn't a perv to look at.”

Steve nodded, popping some nuts into his mouth. Steve was the only friend of theirs that seemed to clock Eddie's shift in demeanor, though he mostly kept it to himself. Eddie knew he knew, and Steve knew that Eddie knew he knew, and that was good enough.

You wrapped up the song with a flourish, doing a little curtsy in your mini skirt, and Eddie cheered as loud as he could, ensuring you heard him over the roar of douche bags.

He jumped up, rushing to meet you at the edge of the stage before someone else could, adjusting himself as went. The crowd parted and there you were, bright as the morning sun, bounding down the stairs and into his arms.

“I did it!” You cried.

“You were amazing,” he murmured, lifting you up and spinning your around. It was totally platonic, but the rest of these fucks didn't know that.

“Phew, what a show. Next up we have a familiar face! Eddie Munson of our very own Corroded Coffin singing ‘Blue Christmas’!”

You squealed in delight and Eddie's jaw dropped. “Go, go!” You shoved against his back, pushing him up the stairs as someone handed him a guitar.

“Figured you didn't need the track, yeah?” Danny, the stagehand said with a grin.

“I don't know this shit, man,” Eddie protested, but Danny rolled his eyes.

“I'll play it in the background, you'll pick it up!”

Suddenly Eddie was in the spotlight, and you were jumping up and down on the side stage. It was far from an atypical experience for him, but butterflies still churned in his stomach. He never got used to you watching him perform, even if it was something as silly as Christmas karaoke. The pressure to impress you was paralyzing, but if it would make you happy…

The track started rolling softly in the background, and he focused on his fingers, finding the simple chord and replicating it with relative ease. The audience cheered even louder, and he smirked to himself.

He risked a glance over at you, confident he had a handle on the notes, and you were practically glowing with joy.

Shit, maybe Corroded Coffin needed to add some Christmas song to their set.

Words started to roll across the small screen at his feet, and he stepped up to the mic, absolutely delighted to find a smear of your lipgloss on the net.

“I’ll have a blue Christmas, without you,” he crooned, putting on his best Elvis impression, and the roar of the ladies was deafening. “I'll be so blue just thinking about you.” He let his eyes wander back to you at the end of the lyric, wondering if you understood just how close this song hit home for him.

You were grinning ear to ear, swaying happily to the music. Oblivious.

“You’ll be doing all right, with your Christmas of white. But I'll have a blue, blue blue blue Christmas,” he continued, finding that he did, in fact, know this song despite his earlier assertion.

C’mon, who didn't know Elvis?

Thankfully, it was an incredibly brief song, and he finished off with a freestyle riff, earning another cacophony of drunken cheers.

He bowed and hustled of the stage to where you waited for him, arms open. He held the guitar behind his back and scooped you up around the waist with his free arm, lifting your feet off the ground.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, wafting your sweet perfume and the bitter sting of alcohol over him. “That was amazing!” You gushed.

“Thanks, sweetheart. But you were better,” he replied, passing Danny the guitar. He started to carry you down the steps, but you shook your head.

“Wanna go backstage,” you murmured against his ear, and his heart stopped.

He pulled his head back to look at you, eyebrows raised. “Backstage? Why?”

You worried your lip between your teeth, eyes like melting honey. “Please, Eddie baby?”

He could do nothing but obey, backing up the steps and ducking behind the curtain with you still in his arms. He shifted his hold you, your legs wrapping around his waist, mini skirt pushing up to enough to give him a glimpse of the cherry red of your panties.

You dragged your nails down his shoulders, your lips finding his throat and leaving soft, sticky kisses along his jugular vein that may as well have been along his cock for how intense the contact felt.

“Honey,” he grunted, stopping to press you against a dressing room door. “How drunk are you?” he panted, eyes crossing when your tongue laved over his pulse, your teeth grazing his pierced lobes.

“Not too drunk, I promise,” you said, pulling back to look him in the eye. “Been wanting this for so long, Eddie, please—”

He swallowed your sweet words with a kiss, tentative at first, but quickly devolving into a sloppy mess, your cherry lip gloss and the lingering taste of cranberry vodka flipping a switch in his brain that had his long-held control unraveling. This was his one shot to impress you, his one shot to get you as addicted to him as he was to you, and he was not about to fuck it up.

Eddie was the town freak, and dating him came with all the baggage of that title. But he’d show you the benefits of it, too.

He had to make like Santa Clause and fucking deliver.

With a quick turn of his wrist, he opened the door to the dressing room and carried you through. He dropped you onto the leather chaise before climbing up your body, capturing your lips in another hungry kiss. Your tongue probed at his lower lip and he opened for you, your smaller muscle licking curiously along the inside of his mouth, when he felt the tip of it brush the warm metal of his tongue piercing.

You gasped, apparently having forgotten about that particular modification, and pride blazed through his chest like an inferno.

He leveraged your surprise to turn the power into his favor, driving his tongue into your mouth, feeling drunk himself on the intoxicating taste of your drool. He dragged the piercing over the roof of your mouth and you shivered, your hips rising to press against his thigh.

He pressed his leg harder against your deliciously warm cunt and you whimpered, you hips rolling in a more deliberate motion. He brought one of his hands down to grip your hip, his rings digging into your soft flesh as he helped you ride his thigh.

“How long you been wanting this, baby? Huh?” He rasped against your ear, hearing your breath hitch. “Barely touched you and look, so desperate already.”

Your hands curled against his shirt, your hips stuttering against his thigh as the pleasure mounted, your slick starting to seep through your panties onto his jeans. “Fuck, feels s’good,” you whined, burying your face into his neck.

“Yeah? Little pussy getting nice and wet for me? Such a good girl. Look so sexy riding my thigh.” He encouraged, noting the way his words made your hips move incrementally faster, the filth spurring you on.

Despite thoroughly enjoying the sight of you dry humping his leg, his mouth watered for something even sweeter.

He moved his thigh back, the denim wet with your honey, and he lowered to his knees on the ground. “Can I taste, sugar? You’re not the only one that's been waiting ages for this.” He started kissing up your inner thighs, wet and loud smacks on your tender skin as he moved closer to your sopping panties.

“Please, Eds, wanna feel you,” you panted, spreading your thighs wider for him like an angel opening heaven’s gates.

His heart gave an elated thump. How could this be real life? Here he was, moments from devouring your drooling, pink pussy and you were saying his name like that? Asking to feel his tongue against you? Maybe he really had gone to fucking heaven.

“Fuck, so pretty. So fucking perfect.” He dragged his tongue over the clingy fabric of your panties, sucking the material into his mouth to taste you. His eyes rolled back in his head—so fucking sweet.

With deft fingers, he slid them down your legs and stuffed them in his back pocket, before settling back between your legs.

You were trembling with anticipation, worrying your lips between your teeth as you watched him through your painted lashes. With a flattened tongue, he licked from your entrance to your clit, feeling the heat, the velvet softness of your slit without obstruction.

You keened, throwing your head back onto the arm of the couch when he swirled the tip around your clit, flicking his piercing over the sensitive bud.

Shit, he could do this forever. Just live between your legs, making music with the most beautiful instrument he'd ever played: you.

With two fingers, he dipped into the pool of slick at your entrance, lubricating himself before easing them inside, watching your face over the stretch of your body for signs of discomfort. But you only continued to moan, already looking gorgeously wrecked.

He worked you with his tongue and fingers, finding that spongy spot inside you that made you sing, and let himself get lost in the rhythm, the mind-numbing bliss of pleasuring you.

“Eddie baby, fuck. M’getting close,” you whined, and he could feel the truth of your statement, your walls starting to twitch and clench around his fingers, your clit swelling under his tongue.

“That's it, sugar. Come all over my tongue, wanna drown in you—”

You cry drowned out his words, the cunt clenching hard around his aching fingers, a fresh gush of honey soaking his palm and chin. Pride soared through him, and he greedily lapped up every drop you released for him, watching your body twitch and writhe while you came down.

“You’re a goddamn dream, baby. Did so well f’me,” he cooed, easing his fingers out of you and cleaning them with his tongue before placing a final kiss on your puffy clit.

“Fuck, Eddie,” you panted, pulling him up onto the couch with shaky arms. “You're too good at that.” You leaned in for a kiss, dragging your tongue over his lips before smushing your lips together in a quick, sloppy press.

“Thank you, honey,” he hummed, feeling like a damn king. The luckiest bastard alive.

But then you shifted off the couch, settling on your knees between his thighs, and his brain turned off.

“What are you—” His words fractured into a strangled moan when you dragged your tongue over the hard swell of his cock, separated by the rough fabric of his jeans.

You continued to mouth at his bulge while undoing his belt with quick little fingers, unzipping his jeans. He reached into his boxers and freed himself, still half-dazed by the sight of you on your knees for him in a dirty, dive bar dressing room.

He was painfully hard, the head and angry red and leaking, his balls already tight and hot. And you, sweet thing you are, didn't waste a second, popping the head into your mouth and sucking the precum from his skin.

Your mouth was scalding, melting his mind at the wet pliancy of your tongue and cheeks while you took him deeper.

“Fucking shit, baby. Oh god—” he fisted the couch cushions, the temptation to fist your hair and push you deeper overwhelming. But he wanted to see what you would do on your own.

You hollowed out your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down his shaft with messy, drooling strokes, your hand wrapped around his base. His vision went fuzzy, heat curling low in his stomach as pleasure spilled through him.

Shit, you were too fucking good at that.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he chanted, head thrown back against the couch, and finally he let himself slide his fingers into your hair, careful to keep his rings from catching. You leaned into him, moaning softly around his length.

He picked his head up, needing to watch you as you reached the base of him, a sticky, soaking mess in the thatch of his dark pubic hair.

“That's it, sugar. Just like that—fuck,” he grunted, his hips canting up when he felt the tightness of your throat, your tongue lapping at the throbbing root of him. He was deliriously, embarrassingly close already, but he didn't have the heart to slow you down for even a second.

You pulled back, suckling the head with your plush lips while your hand twisted up and down his slippery shaft, the swallowed him down again with a sinful slurp.

Like a bolt of lightening, his balls drew up and he was coming, unable to give you more of a warning than his hand tightening in your hair his cock swelling on your tongue. Sparks danced behind his eyes, his nerves frying beneath his skin as he released rope after rope of come down your throat.

And like a good girl, you swallowed it all and sucked him dry, broken whines falling from his lips as your nursed his oversensitive head.

“Baby, fuck, take it easy on me—”

You released him with a pop, flashing the sweetest, most angelic smile with your chin covered in drool and lipgloss, and he dragged you up into his lap, desperate to hold you close.

“I do good?” You asked, batting your lashes at him, a smug little smirk on your face.

“Good? Honey, you rocked my world.” He pulled you in for a kiss, toothy and playful since neither of you could stop smiling, giddy with the shock of it all.

You giggled as his rained kisses over your face, down your neck, his fingers tickling along your hips and up over your ribs. He wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning back against the couch as he slowed his movements, coaxing you to relax into him.

“Wanted you for long,” he murmured into your hair. “Please tell me you'll be mine.” The words came out so soft, for a second he wasn't sure if you'd heard him.

But then you pressed your hands to his chest and sat up a little, looking into his eyes. “I already am, Eds.”

He grinned, cheeks sore and heart pounding, and kissed you again while a terrible rendition of Ella Fitzgerald's “I’ve Got My Love To Keep Me Warm” bleed through the thin walls.

Looked like it wouldn't be a blue Christmas after all.

[kekewrites]

tw. mention of creampie, size kink, wholesome(?), reader is unable to speak human language + limited vocabulary, mention of abuse, abandonment issues

Imagine being a puppy!hybrid who's been saved by your current owner months ago. He found you wandering the streets alone, cold and starving.

It was pouring hard and the wind was extra harsh that day. Oh, how pitiful it is to see a hungry little pup girl rummage through the dirty trash bins, hoping to see scraps and edible food. That sight of you tugged on his tender heart, unable to walk away from such scene, he approached with quiet footsteps, not wanting to scare your cautious figure.

Your sharp senses have been dulled by fatigue and hunger as you didn't even notice his presence behind. Normally, you would've bolted away, afraid of how humans have treated you, but the way his voice sounded to your alert furry ears made your guard down. It was different from the people who abused and abandoned you. So gentle, the way his voice sounded like a lullaby.

That was the last thing you remembered after your first meeting.

***

You really are the best pet or companion he could ever ask for. Such a baby to take care of truly. He found out how you were unable to speak human language, often babbling and butchering words if you do try to talk. You do understand simple phrases and tones, which made it easier to communicate with you. He's not that knowledgeable about hybrids but he do know how to take care of a regular dog. It's hard to compare you to a dog or a human, you're neither closer to the other.

He severely underestimate how much of an attachment you formed with him.

It's not a bad thing.

But it certainly becomes harder for him to leave you for work.

"Come on... Don't look at me like that."

He really didn't want to leave you alone. Truly, he wants to be with you 24/7 but he needs to work, or else he won't be able to spoil you.

Your small pout and cute begging eyes, along with your droopy ears nearly made him stay. Nearly.

"Baby... I need to go. Don’t make that face," he murmurs, his voice soft as he takes in your pouted lips and droopy ears, tugging at his heartstrings. He gently pulls you up, pressing a kiss to your cheek, trailing to your lips, and peppering your face with soft kisses.

Don’t worry, he always thinks of you while he’s typing away at his lonely desk, his mind wandering to what you’re doing without him by your side. Were you playing just fine? Eating the meals he prepped for you? Being a good girl for him? His heart aches at the thought of you waiting by the door, staring at it just as he left it.

He never anticipated how slow time would crawl as he counted the minutes to the end of his shift, refusing to let a single minute become overtime. The moment he could, he raced through the garage and drove home.

"I’m back!" he calls, dropping his case of files and loosening his tie.

Thump, thump, thump.

Oh, how he loved the sound of your footsteps racing across the floor to reach him. It was the kind of sound that melted away the stress of the day, the kind of sound that reminded him why he hurried home in the first place. But this time, he wasn’t prepared for the way you threw yourself at him, arms flung wide as you collided with his chest.

He stumbled slightly, caught off guard, but quickly steadied himself, wrapping his arms around you instinctively. Your warmth, the way you buried your face in his suit—it all made his heart swell.

"Whoa there!" he said, chuckling softly as he ruffled your hair. "I missed you too, baby."

You looked up at him, your eyes bright with joy, and his exhaustion melted away completely. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, holding you close as if he’d never let go. Moments like this made everything worth it, every long hour and every sleepless night. You were his home, his safe haven, and the best part of his day.

"W-Wel... um," you stammer, your cheeks flushing slightly as your little fangs peek out with each syllable. "Wellum... b-back!"

He freezes for a moment, blinking as he stares at you, his head tilting slightly in confusion. Then, it hits him like a soft breeze, the realization dawning across his face.

Were you trying to say welcome back?

His heart squeezes as the thought sinks in, and a wide grin tugs at his lips. Aren’t you just the cutest? He crouches down to your level, his hands gently resting on your shoulders.

"Wellum back, huh?" he teases softly, his voice warm and playful. "Thank you, sweetheart. I feel very welcome now."

You shift nervously, glancing away with a little huff, but your lips twitch as if you’re trying not to smile. He chuckles and taps the tip of your nose affectionately, unable to resist how endearing you look.

"Do you know how much I missed you?" he says, his tone dropping into something softer, almost a whisper, as he pulls you into a hug. "Hearing that from you just made my day, you know that?"

Coming home was the best part of his day, he might quit his work and become a full-time freelancer if it meant spending more time with you.

Then one day came something with you. Your behavior became odd, strange even...

It didn't take too long for him to realize that you were approaching your heat. He read about it while researching about hybrids, the heat suppressants pills already stock in his drawers. The only problem was how uncooperative you were, spitting out the pills, running away when it was time for bathing, and being skittish whenever he was out. You were still his sweet girl, but you'd get moody and have an outburst.

"Come on, it's not that bad... Come here, baby." His voice is soft, coaxing.

Bath time was his least favorite thing to do. Not because he didn’t enjoy the idea of it—cleanliness was important—but because it always turned into a battle of wills. He never liked having to wrestle with you, and yet here you were, backed into the corner of the room like a wary kitten—wait, like a dog your arms wrapped protectively around yourself.

His gaze softens as he takes in your cowering, guarded figure. The way you look at him, a mix of defiance and uncertainty, makes his resolve waver. But the small trail of dirt smeared across your cheek and the strands of hair sticking to your face remind him there's no way around this.

"Baby, you can't stay like that forever," he says, tilting his head with an amused grin. He takes a cautious step forward, his movements slow, deliberate. "I'll make it quick, I promise. No bubbles this time, okay?"

You narrow your eyes suspiciously, not buying into his negotiations just yet. Inching further into the corner.

He sighs dramatically, running a hand through his hair. "This time, no tricks, just a nice, warm soak. You'll feel so much better."

When you don't budge, his grin turns sly. "But if you're going to make me chase you…" He starts rolling up his sleeves, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone. "Then don't blame me if I catch you."

Your eyes widen slightly, and he sees the tiniest twitch of a smile forming on your lips, your tail wagging despite your best efforts to hide it. In that split second, he lunges forward, scooping you up effortlessly despite your squeals of protest. "Gotcha!" he declares triumphantly, carrying you toward the tub, half-heartedly squirming in his arms.

His smile softening as he presses a quick kiss to your forehead. "Now, let's get you cleaned up, stubborn little thing."

It was a nice warm bath, you placed on his lap as his arms wrapped around your waist for preventing your escape.

"See? Not that bad, hm?" He murmurs, almost groaning at how blissful he's feeling. The warm and comfortable water around him plus your nice, soft and plush figure on his lap made it ten times better than usual.

You were oddly quiet, your ears flopping. Your temperature higher than normal, he can see how you were breathing heavily.

Oh.

It's starting again hm?

Well, he's here to help... just not with the pill.

***

The scent of your arousal filled the air, sweet and intoxicating, making his own body react in kind. His cock twitched, already starting to harden.

"Hey, baby, you okay?" He asked softly, his voice rough with concern and desire. He tightened his arms around your waist, holding you close as you shifted restlessly on his lap. "You're burning up. Do you need me to cool you down?"

Your tail thumped against the side of the bathtub, betraying your excitement. His hands slid up your sides, tracing the curves of your body through the water. He leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"I can help you feel better. I know just what you need," He murmured, his voice low and seductive. His hands continued their exploration, cupping your breasts through the water. They were swollen and sensitive, the nipples hardening under his touch. His cock was fully hard now. Pressing his hips up against your ass, letting you feel his cock throb with need. He reaches down, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles. Your breath hitches, a soft whimper escaping your lips as he works you, bringing you closer to the edge.

"That's it, let me hear you," he rasps.

His tongue laves over your pulse point, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Marking you, claiming you. His fingers never stop their relentless assault on your clit, pushing you higher and higher until you're trembling on the brink, teetering on the edge of release.

"Come for me," he demands.

And you do, your back arching, a scream tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you. He holds you through it, his fingers still working your clit, drawing out your pleasure until you're boneless and spent in his arms.

But he's not done with you yet. Not by a long shot.

He read that hybrid's heat last long for a few weeks, worst case scenario, for months. It could affect your well-being so he won't take any chances for that to happen.

"Hold on tight, baby," He murmured against your lips, his voice husky with desire. With a smooth motion, he stood up in the bathtub, water sloshing around them as he carried you in his arms. Stepping out of the bathtub, water cascading down his muscular body as he made his way to the bedroom.

He'll do anything for his girl.

Anything.

[silentstaresfanficandfanart]

*raises hand* if you want that you should check out anime it's specifically doing this! this is exactly why anime is so popular! if you *want* adult cartoons that are about meaningful stories, check out anime! It's not that no one makes cartoons that are actually meaningful and aimed at adults, you just have to look outside of america. hopefully with time we see more things like this crop up but until it does, it cant hurt to explore outside of western media if you want to escape it's normal trappings! Check out the classics of anime, check out new popular things, if you want an anime that will completely reshape how you view food? dungeon meshi, if you want to see a story about superheroes who are girls and don't have to be masculine to be impressive and important, Sailor moon! (plus its funny and cute too but also does get quite dark despite what you'd expect!) If you want to see a masterpiece, Watch spirited away or another studio Ghibli movie, if you want something artistic and fascinating and dark thats going to break your heart, MADOKA MAGICA! If you want slice of life comfort that still focuses on adult experiences, you might want to try the iyasheki genre, and specifically i'd suggest "my new boss is goofy" which is a deeply touching little anime about a man who just left from a deeply abusive job and his experiences healing thanks to having a very kind and sweet silly boss who actually cares about him and his interesting coworkers and yes its serious at times, yes its silly at times, but at its core it has a lovely heart that's very touching.

If you want romance? they've got it, fantasy, comedy, and even genres like iyasheki that don't exactly exist much in western media, cartoons CAN be fun and not childish! and childish isint wrong either, you can enjoy a lot of shows aimed at kids that are actually still really solid when you're an adult like my little pony, or bluey! They really are meaningful shows that can still connect with an adult in a way that's amazing. :) I really hope you'll give it a chance! (and if you still dont like that, you can also check out korean and chinese animation though i dont recall what those are called and i dont know as much about them, but they have a LOT of amazing shows too :) ) I hope maybe this helps some to anyone who's looking for cartoons for adults to enjoy! (also reminder: Anime and manga actually have specific genres aimed at adults as well as younger people, and you can look into those if you want something better aimed at those, also horror IS a thing in anime too, you can find some amazing horror anime! So, give it a try! theres no telling what cool stuff you'll find!)

hey quick question why are all adult cartoons like that 

[dearhargrove]

summary Seeing him that first time, you never could have imagined what life had in store for you.

(short fluffy one shot of their first meeting and then the night after he took her virginity while they're dating, based on a request)

word count 1309

You don't think you'll ever forget meeting him for the first time. How could you, with the impression he left?

—

You're at a fancy restaurant for a work celebration. The ambiance is dark and rich, the people sitting at the tables have that same vibe. Except one group of guys. The one you had noticed as soon as you stepped into this place.

They're sitting in the far back in one of the more private booths, however still in the middle and with a good overview of the whole area.

If you had to guess, the eldest of the three is the father and the twenty something year old guys are his sons. However your attention is drawn to the one sitting on the far right, looking almost on edge as he quietly listens to the other two talk. His muscles are visible through his suit, coffee brown curls tucked behind his ears and there's a necklace that shouldn't fit but just does.

There's something wilder, more strong to him than his two companions. His eyes are strikingly blue, eyebrows pulled into an annoyed frown as he sips his wine. Among that you also note that while the other two have ordered big steaks with barely any sides, he has a salad.

You distractedly continue picking at your dish, stabbing the fork into one of the ingredients for long enough that your colleague looks at you in concern, making you fluster and smile awkwardly.

She grins in amusement and turns to follow your line of sight, looking back to you with an expression that clearly translates into what you've been thinking too ever since first noticing the man; wow.

He's just so – manly. And yet there's still an elegance to him.

You let a strategic few minutes tick by before you look back at the mouthwatering man, only to look right into blue eyes.

You almost flinch, getting flustered immediately and smiling tightly – apologetically? – before hurriedly taking a bite of your dinner to pretend to be minding your own business.

Luckily, no one seems to have noticed your mishap and with a few well timed deep breaths your heartbeat returns to normal and your palms stop sweating.

Nevertheless, you excuse yourself to the ladies room and grab your clutch, not even pretending to know where the hell the toilet even is. You worm your way through the tables to where you guess the restrooms should be, only to almost run into a server coming out of that door who shoots you a confused but kind smile.

“Restrooms are on the other side, dove.”

You tense up, slowly turn around and — oh. It's him. And, dammit, he's even more beautiful up close. He carries a nice scent to him, but not a typical perfume, more of a natural breeze. It's nice, you note. “I noticed... I've never been here before, so–”

He smiles gently and you relax, reciprocating a light but bashful smile. “Don't worry about it. Come on, I'll show you?” he offers. "Oh, I wouldn't want to keep you from your dinner…”

He shakes his head, gives you a calculating look and then softens up a tiny bit, “Trust me, I'm grateful for any excuse to step back from there.” That surprises you a bit but it's none of your business, so you ignore it. You step closer to him and he starts leading the way, obviously walking slower so you could keep up in your heels.

And there's another thing you notice; instead of having to squeeze by the people and servers they part before him like the red sea. The people scoot closer to their tables, the servers bow their heads the tiniest bit and the other customers just smile tightly.

Just who is he? you wonder.

You're more intrigued than before now, momentarily pushing the thoughts aside when you stop in front of two doors; the men's and the ladies room.

“I suppose you'll find your way back to your table?” he kindly but slightly playfully comments. You grin in a mix of embarrassment and amusement, “Sure I will. Thank you, though.”

He shrugs in dismissal, then after a short awkward moment shoots you another smile and leaves.

You take a moment in the – luxurious – bathroom to freshen up, reapply perfume and deodorant, check your phone and do your business. You feel better when you walk back out, already expecting the onslaught of questions from your colleague who had noticed your staring and the man just to then see him lead you through the restaurant.

After paying for your meal (which legitimately made you wince when seeing the actual price because the menu did not have the prices listed) and dodging the questions of your curious coworker, you leave with a small group from your office, engaging in small talk.

You don't even see him when you walk out the door, focused on the story your coworker was telling, but you definitely hear him.

“That's a nice perfume.” His voice is soft but steady, slightly raspy too. You wouldn't mind hearing it more often, you decide.

You halt in your steps and turn around, surprised when you see his cheeky grin. He stops holding the door open, his own jacket slung over his arm and steps the last step down to stand right next to you.

“Thank you–?”

“Sergei.” He introduces himself, nodding his head. “–Sergei.” You repeat with a small smile. He stills for a moment and then blinks, swallowing and nodding. “May I ask the name of this lovely lady?”

You chuckle, slowly continuing your ascend of the stairway, “You may.” And while he asks and you answer with your name he holds out his arm, letting you loop your hand to hold onto his arm for balance.

—

And that's how you ended up here. In his bed, naked except some panties and his way too big t-shirt with his arm snug around your waist and his nose in your hair as he sleeps.

The sun is just rising, the orange and pink hues lighting up the place, forming beautiful shadows and tricks of light.

You turn your head to look at him and take in his beautiful face, bathed in the sunlight. His eyes are still closed, his breathing even and for once his face is relaxed instead of scrunched up from another fight with his father or an upcoming hunt.

However, he also seems to have gotten an extra sense tuned in to you ever since you started dating, so at your stare his eyes open and the blue irises focus on you. It makes you snort a bit and flick the tip of his nose, then turn back to keep watching the sunrise.

His hand moves under the shirt you're wearing to spread out along your skin, calloused hands gentle. “Been awake for long, baby?” The question is soft with a hint of concern and his voice is still husky from sleep.

“Just woke up,” you yawn and stretch a little, he uses the chance and puts his palm in the middle of your torso, tugging you back into his chest. He doesn't say anything further as he tucks into the crook of your neck and grumbles appreciatively when he smells nothing but your natural scent.

Since he told you about his powers you had started to wear less perfume around him (at least when it's just the two of you), as his sensitive sense of smell easily got irritated by the artificial cologne.

It's not long before his nosing turns into nibbling and you can already feel the next few bite marks form, probably meticulously placed to not cover the hickeys he'd left last night.

“Sergei—” he interrupts your upcoming complaint with a grunt and swiftly rolls on top of you, leaned on his forearms as he looks at you like you're his prey. You feel dwarfed under him, his huge biceps and broad shoulders covering you entirely.

At your perplexed expression he chuckles and softly kisses your forehead, “Can't hold back when I remember you're all mine.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Helper:Christmas

Arsenal Women x Child!Reader

Summary: Christmas with Guppy

"I...I don't understand. What's...What's going on?"

"Just keeping holding it up," Codi whispers to Rosa, who looks like she's about to lower the tinsel that she's holding up.

"I don't get it. What's going on?"

"We're decorating the tree."

"No, I get that. But why are we holding it up in a line?"

On her other side, Leah huffs. "Because Lia's raising a kid who doesn't like mess and gets freaked out by Christmas trees. Ow! Lia!"

Lia's elbow, none too kindly, digs a bit further into Leah's ribs.

"Don't make fun of her!" She snaps, imaginary hackles raised in annoyance at Leah's dismissal before turning to Rosa to explain, much more kindly. "Guppy...She gets a bit overwhelmed about this kind of stuff and these cretins like to go overboard until the tree's a big mess. So, Guppy gets to pick the theme and then we all decorate. Leah's exaggerating."

"I'm just saying! Maybe exposure therapy will be good for her! I love her, Lia, I do. You know that. But you have to admit, this-"

Lia whips her beads at Leah in annoyance.

"Alrigh! Alright! I get it! Sorry!"

Lia's not finished though as she points to practically everyone in line in turn. "None of you are allowed to talk about that kind of stuff while y/n's in the room too, do you understand? She's sensitive and I'm not letting any of you make it worse!"

"I think they get it," Mario intervenes quickly," No one wants to make her feel bad."

Rosa's kind of glad that Mariona did. She's never seen Lia angry before. Annoyed, yes. Overtired, yes. But never angry. Not truly anyway but she's heard how protective Lia gets over you.

You're not really an oddball. You're not overwhelmingly weird either. But something that Rosa's noted is that you're very particular. She's never met a child so particular in her life. You like things done in a certain way.

You get all fidgety and anxious if you're not allowed to do things in the way you want and tend to start things over if it hasn't gone perfectly. You flick the lights on and off twice in whatever room you leave and you always knock on doors twice.

Rosa's seen you on the team bus, getting Lia to buckle and unbuckle your seatbelt twice over just before the bus sets off to whatever away match they need to get to.

You're just...

Different.

It's clear that Lia knows that too and a lot of her energy is put into making sure no one makes you think that you don't fit in.

"Alright!" Kim comes in holding your hand and from what Rosa strains to hear from Mario and Lia's conversation, this is normal too.

Kim helps you pick out the theme.

You both whisper together, Kim clearly going along with your childish wonder and happiness. She crouches down at your side as you look between Rosa and Kyra's tinsel.

Rosa's holding a red one and Kyra's holding a gold one.

Kyra wiggles it enticingly in your face but your features all scrunch up at once as you move away from Kim to take Rosa's hand and then to choose Codi and her matching green tinsel as well.

"Alright," Kim says," And what about baubles?"

"Er..." You look at the rest of the team and all the baubles they hold up to you, suddenly overwhelmed with choices.

You look at Leah's glittery baubles and shake your head.

"Not-Not glitter ones."

Then you catch sight of Lia and Mario, immediately breaking away from Kim to go crashing into them.

"Mummy!" You gasp," You bought the special beads from home!"

Wound around what looks to be an old piece of cardboard, is a long string of silver beads.

"I did," Lia says," Because our tree is too little for them this year. I thought we could use them on the Arsenal tree."

You nod, head bobbing up and down happily before you also take Mario's hand, dragging her into your little group of chosen people without even looking at the bauble in her hands.

"Nah!" Leah complains," This is so unfair! Why can't I be chosen?"

"Because you clearly didn't choose a good bauble this year," Beth teases," Not like me."

"Not Beth's bauble either," You say to Kim.

"Wait...What? Come on, come back!"

Decorating the tree is a team effort because while you may have been the one to make your selection, you're much too small to decorate it all by yourself and Rosa's found herself with you on her shoulders as you strain to put a candy cane onto the tree.

"Careful," Lia warns her," Keep straight or she'll fall."

"Rosa's doing fine," Steph says," And it's not like Guppy is going to start throwing herself around. She's very responsible."

"I am, Mummy!" You say," Very responsible! I helped Mrs Gina find the missing gluestick lid yesterday!"

So, Lia ends up worrying from a distance and insists on being the one to lift you up so you can put the star on the tree before letting you down and leading you from the room without any more preamble.

"What's happening now?" Rosa whispers as it looks like everyone starts sitting down on the floor in a little circle that she has no option but to join.

"Lia's been doing this since Guppy was born," Caitlin explains," We're getting presents now. It was pretty cute the first time, little gifts in baby y/n's hands. It was her handprint the year she was born and then it was like little keychains? She's old enough to give them out by herself now."

The present Rosa gets is kind of soft and squishy and it doesn't rattle or anything when she holds it up to her ear and shakes.

"No opening until Christmas!" You say once everything's been given out and everyone's attention is on you," Because that ruins the surprise! You can only open them on Christmas!"

The little Arsenal teddy bear you got her sits on Rosa's desk for the rest of the season.

[sammyluvr]

✶ . ၄၃ . laundry machines — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, poor editing, inexperienced!reader(dating-wise) so sort of shy!reader too, mentions of madison & resulting guilt, implied later seasons sam, kissing, 1.7K words. requested !

summary : you're new to being in a relationship, but sam finds it endearing and is happy to take things slow.

some days are smooth and seamless and like an actual dream come true. others are clumsy, awkward, and make you shy away from being perceived at all. it’s just that this is all quite new to you, and you’re very unsure how to navigate being in a relationship, especially with someone so handsome and lovely. no one’s told you what’s allowed and what isn’t, how you should be acting, what an appropriate response is to the sweet things he does to you.

this all makes you easily flustered, often embarrassed, and yes, you’ll admit it, a bit shy at times. he’s just so tall and steady and you know he’s done this all before, even if the last time he was in a long term relationship was nearly a decade ago. and you’re not even that far from him in regards to age, but you’re somehow so much more lost than he is. it’s nice, because he’s more than willing to take the lead on things, to guide you through it. but sometimes that reminds you of your inexperience, and it sort of makes you wish that you could be a bit better for sam. it almost makes you feel like you’re forcing him to do all the work.

alternatively, sam’s own narrative regarding your inexperience is one of deep fondness, and even a bit of relief. he himself can be awkward and shy, even now and after all he’s been through, but with you, he gets to be the one who’s sure on his feet and smooth and a little easy. secretly, he’s still remembering and figuring out how to do this all. but the little things come to him comfortably enough that, to you, he seems entirely confident and effortless.

“sam?” you call to him from your bedroom. he’s sitting in the living room of your little apartment, content with a cup of tea you’ve made for him. “is it alright if i wash your jacket with my things, too?” 

“of course,” he calls back, his voice at its normal level of sweet and kind. you don’t see the huge, endeared grin on his face. he’s not sure why it wouldn’t be alright to wash his jacket with your things. it’s certainly the most logical thing to do, and it’s not as if he’d mind one bit. actually, he likes the idea of his clothes with yours, spinning around and getting tangled together in the washing machine. it’s domestic, soft, and intimate in a simple way. maybe that’s why you asked, he wonders; intimacy makes you a bit timid at times. 

with that, his jacket is placed inside your laundry basket. it’s dirty from a hunt. sam wanted to stop by your apartment first thing when it was over by mid morning and he wasn’t too far away. he thinks he flustered you, though, because he forgot to text beforehand. but, you also looked very happy to see him, so he’s sure it’s okay. you had melted right into his kiss, though your hands remained chastely resting on his elbows as he sweetly cupped your face. 

now, you’re walking out of the bedroom with your laundry, met with a fond look from sam on the couch. 

“i’ll be right back. i just need to get this done by tonight,” you explain as you head to the door to head down to the washing machine in the building’s basement.

“i’ll come with you,” sam says, standing, still wearing his pretty smile. he imagines he’ll have to leave in a few hours, and he’d like to spend every moment until then with you if you’ll let him.

“there’s no need, i’ll only be gone a minute,” you say, only because you don’t want to make him get up and walk down, then back up all those stairs.

his long legs take him to the door in less than a few seconds anyway. “i want to,” he says simply, and you feel silly that it sends your heart pumping extra hard.

“if you insist,” you smile, taking it in stride. sam notices and resists the urge to just sweep you up in his arms and kiss you for a long while. he hasn’t kissed you again since he arrived, but he doesn’t think you’d have as much ease dealing with that without being greatly flustered. he’d probably like to see that, but he’s not a cruel man. you’d argue that he’s the gentlest of them all. he follows you down the stairs because you refuse to let him carry the laundry basket. he’s already silently promising he’ll carry it upstairs once it’s all washed and dried. he’ll help you fold it too, if you’ll let him. he’s not sure if you’ll be alright with him catching a glimpse or two at your underwear. 

that makes him think about the time he was about twenty three and madison not-so-subtly showed off her panties to him while folding her laundry on the first day they’d met. she’s a sad memory. a guilty one, too. but he has you in front of him, softly chattering about what you did this morning, and he lets her be a nice memory for today. you give him plenty of nice memories, and he thinks about how he likes the way the two of you take things slow.

you don’t seem to think about the fact that sam can see what you’re putting in the washing machine, and he finds it cute, for no particular reason. he finds it cute when you’re nervous about something you needn’t be or when you aren’t about something he predicted you might. maybe he just finds everything about you cute.

he leans against the drying machine and watches happily as you put the washer to the right settings and start the cycle. 

“so,” you say, turning your head to look at him, “do you have–” you’re cut off by the loud rush of water in the machine as it begins soaking your clothes—and his jacket—and you shake your head because you momentarily forgot just how loud it is. it’s the loudest washing machine you’ve ever used, you told him once. he himself is almost startled by it; you really weren’t kidding. he gives a little laugh and you can’t help but laugh a bit too. neither of you have to say anything to agree to go back upstairs.

he holds the basement door open for you and one of his big hands that you’re secretly so fond of hovers by the small of your back as you pass him and start up the stairs. only you think it’s a secret. he can tell how much you like to hold hands and fiddle with his fingers. you stare sometimes, too, but he’d never tell you that for fear of rendering you too flustered to function properly for the rest of the night.

“you were saying?” he says, encouraging you to continue now that he can actually hear you.

you can’t tell if it’s a blessing or not that he’s asked you to keep going while walking up the stairs. you sort of wanted to be watching his face when you asked, but you’re also thinking you might be grateful that you won’t in case it helps you feel less nervous. he’s just so handsome and sincere and lovely that it makes you nervous. you don’t know how to be casual around him. everything just feels so special and new and nerve-wracking.

“i was just wondering if you had another case lined up for tomorrow,” you tell him, hoping that you’re succeeding in sounding laid-back like you wish you could be. once again, he thinks it’s sweet you don’t always know how to act around him. “or, you know, anything like that,” you add on. you don’t want to ask without knowing if he has somewhere to be in the morning.

sam feels a spark of hope and a little bit of youthful giddiness that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time before you. “i don’t,” he says simply, “i don’t have anything tomorrow.”

you chew lightly on the inside of your cheek, considering your options. there’s still another flight and a half of stairs until you get to your floor and you’re thinking, despite how nervous it makes you, you really would like to be facing him as you ask. it’d be obvious and awkward if you wait until you’re back in your apartment, right? but it’s silly to ask in a stairwell, you think.

then you realize you're probably overthinking it. maybe neither of those things are true. maybe it doesn’t matter at all how you ask, so long as you do it. you know he’ll say yes, you know he’ll like the idea of it, and you’re pretty sure he’ll like the fact that you’re the one to bring it up first. and you’re pretty confident that you love him and that he really, truly cares about you too. that gives you a burst of confidence.

you turn around, right on the steps with your hands fidgeting with the hem of your shirt and a little, likely nervous looking smile on your lips. “do you want to sleep over tonight?” you ask, somehow able to make yourself sound more sure of things than you feel.

his lips curl into a happy, almost proud smile. it’s very obvious how much he adores you. all you have to do is look at him and see the way his adoration pools in his eyes and his dimples and shows in the lightness of his eyebrows and the showing of his front teeth. his hands that you love so much drift up to hold your waist, moving slowly so you can anticipate it. the touch still makes you draw in a steadying breath.

“i would love to. are you sure that’s alright with you?” he says. he’s trying to sound casual too, but it comes out more reverent than anything else. 

your smile isn’t so nervous now. “mhmm,” you hum. “i’m sure.” this time, you really are sure. though, you still have to grip his shoulders for support when he kisses you, right in the stairway like he’d probably kiss you anywhere.

[thedandeliongarden]

I actually have to disagree with your conclusions.

Have you ever fought against flexible weapons?

Back when I was doing HEMA, I sparred against training versions of a 2 handed flail, and let me tell you, they are genuinely a right bastard of a weapon, chiefly in the fact that you cannot defend against them normally:

if you intercept a strike via the head it may flip around and you get clonked by the pole and/or the head, not uncommonly in the face.

If you intercept the pole, the head may swing around your guard and slap you in the head

Additionally “rock on a rope” is a historical and historically effective weapon. I personally know it from a specific german husband vs wife trial by combat (it’s a whole thing that shows up in the combat manuals, don’t ask) but it pops up elsewhere (usually earlier on in history iirc) and making said rock sharp metal is hardly going to make it less effective

So let me address your points, such as they are:

Firstly, all “wunderwaffe” in the original context of the word were ineffective money-sinks that harmed the nazi war effort, helping the allies close out the war faster. So it’s kind of odd to mock a historical (if unusual) weapon that did see actual use (the chinese ones were mostly a performance art, but 10 minutes on Wikipedia and you can find several weapons of the type (or at least, that were used specifically because of features you mocked) that were used in warfare) in the same vein as what I can only describe as the most famous set of failures in military science.

The next thing of note is that it’s entirely idiotic to claim a weapon could only ever be effective against a target simulator. Your various criticisms sound like someone whose just been told about plumbata and goes on a rant about how superior throwing axes are by comparison - you’re kind of just ignoring any benefits, somehow completely missing the actual downsides, and concluding that someone who just absolutely nailed 3 targets in a row couldn’t do that to your face because you’d totally move out the way.

So let me cover some actual ground here

the main benefit of “throwing weapon on a string” is that you can retrieve it after you throw it and throw it again - will it be worse on an individual throw? Maybe, but you can throw it again

For the major offensive benefit as a melee weapon, I refer you to my earlier commentary on how fucking annoying it is to try and defend against flexible weapons. I imagine the exact physics works out differently for a weight on a rope than what is fundamentally a long stick attached to a shorter stick, but either way this can absolutely can wrap around your defence in unpredictable/unintuitive ways

You really need to account for the continuous force going into the rope from the wielder. It’s not a limp noodle when it’s being put under tension the whole time, and it won’t behave like a whip from indiana jones

Ok so I think that broadly covers the odd set of criticisms you had, so what about the actual disadvantages of the weapon? Why didn’t it see more widespread use?

Formations and collateral. The bow supplanted the sling because you could put more soldiers in the same area if you used bows. Skirmishers are a little different (and afaik did retain slingers for longer) but main formations wanted to be as dense as possible for most of the history of warfare. And uh. yeah. look it doesn’t take a genius to see how much space you need to use a rope dart to its maximum potential

Skill requirements. There’s a reason it was a performance art, that shit’s impressive - and takes a long time to learn. Much like dual wielding in the sense of two similar sized swords, even though there genuinely are advantages in some situations, learning to do it to a baseline level of competence (i.e without hitting yourself) is dramatically more difficult with flexible weapons than with literally anything else. And so you will only very rarely see this as an army level weapon for the same reason crossbows supplanted regular archery - it just costs more to train the soldiers (english/welsh archery is a notable exception to this rule achieved by a country-wide law prohibiting other sports on sundays, which is kind of insane behaviour but it did work).

Armour. This one’s more of a hunch, but I suspect this is one of the weapon types (like cut-centric swords, clubs, and really any number of weapons) that are disproportionately countered by armour. I think some actual testing would need to be done to confirm, and I cannot stress enough that for most of history that level of armour was not a factor

So yeah. Sure, not a common weapon, and not one commonly used in warfare (at least in china) but until you have actually done some sparring with someone with baseline competence in rope darts, please don’t show your ass by claiming they must be totally useless

Oh, and before I forget - nunchucks were a way around weapon prohibition laws. It’s wrong to compare them to weapons of war, you have to compare them to other concealable civilian weapons like knuckledusters. You have to tune out modern ninja mythos if you want to have useful opinions on weapons involved in it

Demonstrating the rope dart (繩標; sheng2biao1)

[eng by me]

[princesssmars]

she gon’ eat this pussy up cause it’s sweet!

yet another boxer!vi x reader

p.i - p.ii

wc : 3.310

contains : fxf. fem!reader. hair and skin tone not described. fluff. some jealousy made up by hotel sex. oral and penetrative sex (r!receiving). they both want that cookie so bad.

a/n : they keep getting longer help me. i already have kind of an idea of the next part in my brain because the day after i started this i had the horniest dream ever so i'll just write that out. here's the position if you can't get the logistics down ik that happens to me lmao. enjoy <3

you never saw yourself as the type to get on a plane at the drop of a hat just to get railed silly by your girlfriend, but you’ve been learning a lot about yourself these past few months.

and one thing that’s made itself apparent? you and violet were fucking whipped for each other.

obviously it was to be expected, over six months in and this had been both of your longest relationship yet. you both made the time and effort to make sure it continued to be so, constantly spending quality time together and making sure boundaries were respected and desires were met.

it seemed that as everyday passed your shared devotion just increased tenfold.

as well as your… equal amounts of passion.

it was almost silly to look back and remember how you were so nervous that intimacy would change something in how she saw you. you don’t regret waiting and setting that boundary for yourself, but after the first few times together you really wish you had started sleeping with her earlier.

obviously sex wasn’t the only reason you loved violet. she was an amazing lover in every sense of the word, always ever so affectionate and caring to your physical and emotional well-being. you constantly told her you’re sure her clear superiority at being an older sister made her such a sweetheart, always protecting and looking out for you even when it wasn’t needed.

but it was only a matter of time before vi’s skills and charisma in the ring caught up to her, and before both of you knew it she had greatly increased in popularity to the point she was booking matches in other cities, occasionally leaving you along for weekends when she had to stay overnights to train and perform.

and you over it for the first couple of times. it wasn’t the end of the world when the two do you had to be separated, and when you got lonely there were always other ways you could be there for each other.

“how much longer until your back?”

“aww, don’t tell me my baby’s missing me already?” vi’s mocking voice rings through the receiver, groggy and low after falling asleep an hour prior before you called.

“can you blame me? normally i have you all over me every saturday night like clockwork, now i’m all alone in this bed. in my underwear. alone.”

she chuckled at your brazenness and audibly shifted herself over the phone. “oh yeah? maybe i could help you with that. wouldn’t mind staying up to help you…”

you hum playfully. “then maybe i could give you a visual guide?”

as soon as she hears the incoming face-time call vi’s eyes briefly close in bliss. god, does she adore you.

and of course having vi guide you through masturbating from miles away for the first time is a thrilling experience, but it still leaves a slight ache in your cunt heart to not have her by your side as often as you once did.

but when you saw the radiant look on her face on television after she won a fight, heard the joy in her voice when she called you as soon as she walked off of the platform, you didn’t have it in you to bring up your silly complaints about not having her by your side twenty four seven. she was finally living her dream, and you wouldn’t cause her any worries about balancing it with you.

so you’d shut up, use her flexing mirror pics to get off, and be patient. it shouldn’t be hard, you’re an independent woman and completely secure in your relationship.

well. maybe just independent.

a big company wanted vi as a sponsor and set up a schedule for her to fly out to film promotional material for nearly five weeks. your girlfriend was intuitive, asking you if you were okay with her being gone for so long. you looked at her like she was crazy, telling her she’d have to be insane not to take this chance even if it meant you’d be alone for longer than usual. she seemed unsure, but was still excited about the opportunity and bid you goodbye at the airport with a big kiss and a promise to see you soon.

it was fine, the same daily texting and calls as had happened before. but after a few days she tells you her conversation might be slipping because of some of the extra trainings they’re making her do for the promo. that’s all fine and dandy to you.

until you see it on social media. it starts as a clip of vi hanging out with some of her fellow boxer friends at a club, nothing out of the norm. but going though the comments makes you skip way to around the end of the video, and you feel your eyes burn into your phone when a woman, an admittedly gorgeous woman comes up to the table and sidles up right next to vi in the booth.

honestly, this was nothing new. you’d known since your introduction that woman drew to vi like a magnet. your own friend was starstruck when she talked to the both of you and gave you a very funny passive aggressive message when she found out the two of you were dating. you’d had to deal with desperate fans at her games, begging for a chance to talk to her, touch her, beg her to autograph their chests at one point?

so who you find out to be a fairly famous influencer show up at the same hot spots as your girlfriend who’s over a hundred miles away isn’t surprising. what is surprising is the fact they keep popping up in the same places. you would never for a second think vi would cheat on you. it still doesn’t help quell the little green devil that lives in your chest, though.

its am early friday afternoon in your apartment and you’re scrolling through delivery apps for a quick meal when you see vi’s contact come up at the top of your screen, answering it as soon as you process who’s calling.

“someone’s eager to talk to me.”

“it’s nice to talk to you too, vi. how was your day?”

“it was alright, we just did those pictures and photoshoots today so i got to just stand around and show off my good looks.”

“it is one of your strong suits.” you dryly chuckle and keep scrolling through the food options, battling between pizza or pasta.

“feels better when i have you looking at me, though. you doing anything tonight?”

“nothing much, dining in and watching a movie i guess.”

she hums and is about to say something else but the green ugly devil decided to reach its hand through your body and puppet your mouth for no reason whatsoever.

“you going back to the club tonight?”

“uhhh no, all my friends are busy and i have an early morning tomorrow. why, you feeling left out pretty?”

“what if i was?”its silent once again.

“then what if i did something about it?”

so you’re here, flying through the dark of night thousands of feet in the air and slowly descending to an airport where violet is waiting for you, standing at the pickup area is a very inconspicuous black tracksuit with a black beanie to cover up most of her hair and large black shades. there aren’t words to describe the euphoria you feel being back in her warm embrace, sinking into her arms as she rests her chin on your head.

“i cant believe you really did this. and i cant believe they let you through the airport wearing that.”

“i know, had to give security some autographs. cmon, we’ll go back to the hotel.”

you sit a little too close for safety standards next to vi in the back of the dark suv the company had been lending her for her stay in the city, her arm wrapped around your shoulders as the other sat innocently on your thigh. well, as innocently as it could be with vi. she wouldnt do anything too crazy with someone driving, but her thick finger did inch towards the gap between your legs a few times.

there’s an unspoken tension as you arrive at vi’s hotel and she takes your bags to lead you up to her room, keeping close to you until you make it through the door and she sets your stuff by the spacious closet.

she had sent you some pictures as soon as she had checked in, but it was still surreal seeing the thing in person. it was big, but it made sense since she was an extended stay on a ‘business’ trip of sorts. you smile seeing the left open chip bag on the desk and one of her favorite movies playing on the television.

you’re brought out of your stupor by a familiar large hand grabbing yours and tugging you over to the plush couch that sits against the end of the bed.

“so, what ‘cha think?”

”you roll your eyes and relax into the chair some more. “i think that you should take these brand deals more often. just make sure to keep brining me along.”

“oh i definitely would, wouldn’t want you feeling jealous again, would we?”

your mouth gapes open as your body sits upright, looking at her defensively as she struggles to hold in her laughter. there’s no denying it with her so you decide to do the mature thing and cross your arms with a pout.

“how do you figure that?”

“because i know people are talking about the influencers that keep showing up to our booths. and i know your best friend told me about your sour mood and threatened to kick my ass over it.”

you sigh and turn your body to hers, resting your leg over her thighs when she makes the motion to pull it over herself. “’m sorry, vi. you know i’d never believe you’d do that. it’s just…”

“it’s just what?” her thumb and forefinger come up to pink your chin and bring your downcast eyes to her attention, “you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“of course i do. i didn’t wanna complain because everything is going so greatly for you, and i didnt want to make it seem like im unsupportive. i couldnt be prouder of you, vi. it’s just hard not being around you so much. i love our calls and the pictures and everything but its not..its not you.”

her eyes turn soft and she shakes her head before pulling your entire body to rest on her lap, both of her hands coming up to your cheeks to bring you in for a sweet but hard kiss.

she pulls back and peppers some more kisses over your face until you start to laugh, the sound of your laughter always brighting up her day. “i understand, baby. you don’t sound unsupportive, i promise. it’s been hard for me too. i’ve missed you so much when i’ve been gone, you have no idea.”

you gently nod and give a dreamy sigh before sinking into her arms once again, hand coming up to palm at her hair as hers travel to your waist and gently massage up and down your back. you’re content to enjoy the moment until her hands start to skirt lower and lower and suddenly you remember that you’re back in the arms of you’re girlfriend who you haven’t been able to sleep with in literal weeks.

you let out a sharp squeak when her palms travel down to your ass and squeeze you over the fabric of your leggings, head coming do so scarred lips can whisper in your ear.

“how about i show you how much i missed you?”

you’re very glad that its been established you’re both desperate for each other, because otherwise you’d be nothing but embarrassed to be in this position.

you’re starting to feel a slight kink in your neck from staring down at the woman currently eating you out like she’s starving, but when she takes your clit into her mouth and sucks so intensely you throw your head back you briefly think any small amount of pain is worth the pleasure she’s giving to you now.

your arms hold you up on the back part of the couch, one knee resting on the armrest and the other on vi’s thigh so your pussy is right in front of her face for her to get easy access, her hands scooping and pulling you in by your ass and making it impossible for you to back up and avoid the pleasure when it becomes too much.

“vi, nngh, vi,” the only words you can get out are slurred mumbles of her name and curses as her tongue dips down to thrust into you. her nose bridge more than enough to give you stimulation on your clit as she somehow buries her head even further into your cunt and groans into you, the vibrations only driving you crazier.

you whine when she pulls her face away to stare up at you, eyes hungry and sweet like you’re a deity that’s letting her drink freely from the fountain of youth.

“you still jealous, muffin?”

“vi cmon, please keep going, please-”

your mouth gapes wider when she quickly leans down and licks a long strip up and over your clit, pulling away with more of you smeared over her lips than before.

‘fuck, violet,” your head tips back in bliss, concentration slipping as you feel her hot breath ghost across your clit and her eyes trained on your chest as you arch your back.

her fingers clench again and pull your cheeks apart, a little grin gracing her face at your high-pitched gasp at feeling the cool air of the hotel room hitting both of your holes.

“y’know, i seem to recall a certain someone making fun of me for being jealous just a few months ago..”

you groan as she speaks, pushing your hips in a futile attempt to get her to keep eating you out.

“not so fun when its you, huh angel?” her hand travels further up from your behind so her fingers can prod at your entrance, teasing your hole to bring more of those desperate sounds that she loves to pull from deep in your chest. “it’s ok, i know it was hard for you. could see how desperate you were over the phone.”

“i wasn't- oh, shit, i wasn't that needy.”

only about an inch of her ring and middle fingers are shallowly thrusting into you but its enough to drive you wild. its a bit humbling to realize she has you in the palm of her hand already, but you cant find it in you to care.

“tell that to my favorite pillow. swear i thought you were gonna give yourself rug burn last week.”

you drop your head to look at her again and she cant help but laugh at your best attempt at a scowl, eyes droopy and mouth scrunched in the cutest little pout she’s ever seen.

she bites her lip and suddenly pushes her fingers all the way to the hilt inside of you, silently reveling in how she has to hold your body up when your knee beside her starts to wobble.

she thought about teasing you more, holding her fingers in place and not moving until you admitted you were desperate for her, that you needed her. but she was just as desperate for you as you were for her, and when she feels your walls clenching around her combined with you starting to drip down her hand and wrist her brain goes on autopilot and she starts to fuck you at the pace she knows you love best.

in only an instant you're moaning and writhing above her, hips jerking back and forth for friction and your nails digging into the fabric of the sofa. a brief voice in your head tries to remind you that you’re in a hotel and other people can likely hear you, but like she can read your mind vi gives a stern whisper to ‘put it down.’ as soon as you raise your arm to bite into it.

vi lets out a mix between a laugh and a groan at your immediate obedience to her command and she briefly becomes aware of the arousal that's building between her own legs. she subconsciously starts rubbing her thighs together as she continues to stare up at your body. when your body jolts when she hits that spot deep inside of you she’s afraid she might actually cum in her pants and decides to distract herself by stuffing her face back between your legs.

it often scared you, how amazing vi was at eating pussy. you try not to think about how most of it was probably due to extensive practice, but when she sucks at your clit in that way that leaves a rather obvious noise you can't find it in you to care. she’s all yours now anyway, and the thought only brings you closer and closer to the edge.

she can tell you’re about to cum by the tremors in your legs and your hand coming to the back of her head to push her farther into your cunt. she likes doesn't care about the pain of your nails in her scalp. doesn't care that it’s becoming just a bit hard to breathe. there are two places in the world where vi truly feels at peace, in the ring during a fight and in between your thighs as she brings you to an orgasm. she tries to mumble gentle encouragements as you cum around her fingers but they only come out incoherent, the vibrations from her voice only driving you further up the wall as you release.

even as you come down your body still has little tremors brought on by vi continuing to lick and suck at you after your orgasm ends, only your hand digging into her hair and pulling her away able to stop her from going at you. her face is flushed, covered in cum, and her mouth agape as she takes deep breaths in and out. you’re sure you look no better but she makes no mention of what a mess you must be, only flopping her head to the side to rest on your thigh so she can stare up at you.

“i…i might have been a little jealous.”

she breathes out an airy chuckle at your confession and gently shakes her head. “i think we share that in common.”

your eyes start to droop closed in the bliss of the moment, your body in a dreamy state while vi kisses over your thighs and stomach before giggling when vi places a short chaste kiss right on your cunt,

“not a problem as long as we can keep reassuring each other, huh?”

you never saw yourself as the type to have to hide your face in a pillow when your girlfriend got delivered a noise complaint by a flustered hotel attendant at eight in the morning, but you’ve been learning a lot about yourself lately.

[happilyhertale]

Take your Place – Daemon Targaryen x fem!wife!reader

Summary: Your husband was away for months, leading the battle against the Triarchy and ultimately bringing victory. Now he is back and a ball is being held in celebration. Throughout the evening, you have spoken with many lords and ladies – but you have not seen the person you long for. So you go in search of him.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!wife!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Sex (p in v)

Author’s note: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 1.8 k

Other stories of mine

12 Days of Smuffmas

12 Days of Smuff

The hall is filled with music and laughter. Lords and ladies are sitting at the various tables, engrossed in conversation. The wine tastes good and has already caused a few men to slip off their chairs tonight. And this exuberant mood is appropriate, because the Triarchy has finally been repelled in the Stepstones and your husband is being celebrated for it.

You walk through the rows of tables, looking for your husband. You know that he is most likely sitting somewhere with his men and has already had way too much to drink. But although you would normally be able to spot his silver hair anywhere, you can't see him.

But then something grabs your hand and pulls you down roughly. You cry out a little and are about to answer this impertinence with a slap in the face. But you look up as you land on a lap, fingers on your face, caressing you, while a drunken smile reflects back at you.

“Daemon!” you say, but you can't stop the smile that is already spreading across your face. You slowly try to get up again, but Daemon has other plans. His arms wrap around you and he presses his face into the crook of your neck while pressing your back against his chest.

“Stay.” is the only thing he slurs, and you notice the wine on his breath, which he has been consuming all evening.

You just smile slightly, but nod barely noticeable, as you stay on his lap. Your eyes wander around and you were right, his men have spent the evening with him. Some are already hanging drunk in the chairs and a few others are still trying to talk, but you only perceive a kind of grunt.

Daemon kisses your neck, his fingers press lightly into your thighs as he whispers in a low voice, “What are we going to do after this ball?”

You glance slightly over your shoulder and your eyes meet. His gaze is almost soft and you have to smile, “well... I'm going to go to sleep after this ball... you'll probably throw up...” you say to him, trying to suppress a smile.

Daemon chuckles and then laughs a little – he can't deny how many times he's thrown up in a bowl while you've been in bed.

“You know damn well that's not what I meant,” he mutters into your neck as his laughter subsides.

Now you have to giggle a little, “No?” you ask playfully, “I don't know what you mean...”

Daemon leans in and kisses your neck again, breathing into your ear, “I mean that I'd like to spend some time alone with you, love.”

Your eyes are locked on him and you see the determination in his gaze.

“Are you sure you're capable of having a night of pleasure... you're very drunk ...” you say softly.

Daemon grins drunkenly and caresses your cheek. He leans forward and whispers seductively in your ear.

“I'm not too drunk to make you moan, love.”

Your cheeks flush and your eyes widen.

“Daemon!” you say, and even some of his men grin at you, seeming to know what he's saying to make you blush.

Daemon grins at you and his fingers press into your thighs again as he leans forward to whisper in your ear again.

“I'm not too drunk to make you scream for me, love.”

The blush is now creeping down your cleavage. You bite your lip lightly.

“Stop it, Daemon...” you whisper, but you try to squeeze your thighs together a little as you notice the pulsing between your thighs.

Daemon chuckles at your reaction and squeezes your thighs even tighter. He continues to whisper seductively in your ear, “Then stop me, love. Come on.”

You can't stop yourself and you move your hips slightly to create some friction. But then Daemon grabs you and lifts you slightly to turn you on his lap. Confusion graces your features until you straddle him. “We're not supposed to be doing this here,” you say quietly, but he just grins.

“What? You're my wife and you're happy that I'm back... and you show me that by sitting on my lap,” he says, his words slightly slurred. You just shake your head slightly, but before you can say anything, Daemon presses his lips against yours. You gasp slightly, but you respond to his kiss. He grins when he feels your hips moving again, grinding against him slightly. He caresses your cheek and pulls you closer to him, his tongue meeting yours and your kiss intensifying. You feel him getting hard and you let out a small moan, but not loud enough for anyone else to hear. Daemon smiles a little as he feels that you cannot stop moving, that you keep grinding against him. He pulls your hips closer to him as he speaks, letting his fingers glide along your thighs. His lips gently slide down your neck and whispers seductively, “I'd like to see your dress on the floor.” Your eyes flutter closed and his words elicit a slight moan from your lips. But you bite your lip to make no further sound.

“The skirt of my dress is very wide...” you finally whisper softly, breathing heavily. “Maybe you could unbutton your trousers and... I mean, I could sit on you and no one would notice...“ you say quietly.

“But you're already sitting on me...” he mumbles teasingly and gets an annoyed look from you. Daemon glances over at his men and tries not to grin. None of them are looking in your direction, they seem to be engaged in conversation or have their heads on the table, snoring.

“But maybe.. it could work,” he mutters finally. Daemon slides his hand under your skirt, begins to unbutton his trousers, and glances at you from time to time. You look at him, everything except for your upper bodies is hidden under the skirt of your dress. Daemon lets his hands move back to your hips and you move slightly again. Then you have to suppress a moan as you feel his hard cock, how its length presses against your folds. His hands slide to your hips, gripping you, as he presses his the tip of your cock against your entrance.

You look at him, gasp slightly and then lean forward to kiss him as you feel your cunt clench around nothing from the mere anticipation of getting to sheath him. Slowly you lift up and then slowly lower yourself onto his hard cock.

You let yourself sink all the way down, your breath catching. You don't move so that no one can see what you are doing, but you're breathing out heavily.

Daemon suppresses a groan as he feels you move. He leans back further in his chair, eyes closed and head tilted back slightly. His smile widens a little, you feel his cock twitch slightly inside you. “You're so filthy, love,” he murmurs. You bite your lip, moving your hips slightly. “Gods... Daemon...,” you whisper. You close your eyes as he fills you completely. Daemon's moans are becoming harder and harder to suppress. He looks around to make sure his men are not watching. He leans forward to speak seductively in your ear, “Good girl. You feel so good,“ and makes you whimper. “I've missed your big cock...“ you suddenly let slip, making Daemon chuckle briefly, but it ends in a groan as he feels you moving up and down slowly.

“Gods... You feel so good, my love.” He closes his eyes and clenches his teeth as he leans back in his chair and his hands return to your thighs. His hand finds its way under your skirt, his fingertips leaving a fiery trail on your skin.

His thumb glides through your folds until he finds your clit and begins to rub it, making you whimper again “Daemon... I... I...” you stutter as your hips move a little faster. You slide up and down along his length, breathing heavily, your hand sliding to the back of his neck, gripping him, and he growls. Daemon leans forward again, biting your earlobe, “Good girl. That's a good girl.” He leans his head back again, trying to suppress a groan. His gaze returns to you, and he feels your cunt flutter around his cock as you slam your hips down on him. His thumb rubs faster as he kisses you again.

“Come on... Show me how much you've missed this... Riding me... My cock deep inside your tight cunt,” he growls against your lips. And then you moan into his mouth. Your pussy clutches his thick cock. “Gods...” you whimper as your orgasm floods your body. Your cunt milks his cock as you slide up and down. He grunts as he feels his balls tighten. “Daemon...” you whimper, your hand on his neck slides into his hair, grabs lightly while you cum all over his cock. Daemon bites the inside of his lip to suppress a groan. His eyes are closed and his expression is full of lust; he is visibly enjoying it. You moan into his mouth as your orgasm subsides. You are breathing heavily, your eyes are closed. Slowly you open them again, you feel his hips moving slightly again. “Did you come?“ you ask in a whisper. Daemon sighs contentedly and looks down at you. He glances around to make sure that no one is around. ”Not yet, my love,” he speaks softly and caresses your face. “And you will help me finish it,” he grunts. You nod and lean forward again to kiss him. Your hips move slightly faster. “Come for me, my dragon,“ you whisper against his lips. Daemon is breathing heavily and his eyes are closed. He moans softly, your words making his cock twitch. He grabs your waist. "I'm close, love. I'm close.” “Fill me, my dragon...” you whisper against his lips. While you press your hips firmly against him. His cock is deep inside your tight heat as you gyrate your hips. Your hips move faster as you gently bite his lip.

And then he moans, his hips thrusting up and making you squeak slightly. He growls as he pumps his cum into you. You kiss him again and let your hips slow down. You slide up and down more slowly, milking the last drop out of him, to ride out his orgasm. His eyes are closed as he breathes heavily, clenching his teeth. “Love,” he growls.

Daemon leans forward and presses his forehead against yours. He tries to speak but nothing but breathless groans come out, although he tries to hide it. His breathing is slow and shallow as he holds you. “Gods, Love, gods.” he gasps quietly. You giggle slightly and gently kiss his cheek.

“Shall we retire to our chambers?” you whisper, and he just nods. His hands slide back under your skirt, fully covering himself again, and then he helps you up from his lap.

[missrosiesworld]

Heartstrings and Wagging Tails

Adorable headcanons for Seth Lowell's crush moments 😍 I decided to write my crush headcanons more narratively, so you guys can feel more immersed in the characters' emotions and experiences, making every scenario relatable and heartfelt. I'll keep writing headcanons this way if you guys like it, and I'll revise my previous ones to match it. 😊

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

1. Awkward yet Adorable: Seth becomes a bundle of nerves around his crush. His normally calm demeanor turns into shy, flustered gestures. His tail wags uncontrollably whenever they’re near, and his ears often twitch at the sound of their voice. He stumbles over his words and laughs nervously, but his sincerity shines through.

“Oh, uh, hi!” Seth stammered, his words coming out in a rushed jumble. “I didn’t—didn’t see you there. Not that I was looking for you or anything! I mean—uh—how’s it going?” He gave a nervous laugh, his hand darting to the back of his neck as his ears twitched furiously.

His crush raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of their lips. “It’s going fine, Seth,” they said with a soft chuckle. “You okay? You seem... jittery.”

Seth’s ears flattened slightly, and his tail slowed, though it still swayed nervously behind him. “Jittery? Me? No way,” he said, his voice a touch higher than usual. His hand remained on the back of his neck, rubbing at it awkwardly as if the motion would ground him. “I’m totally... fine.”

“If you say so, Seth,” they replied with an amused smile, leaving Seth to fumble for anything else to say as butterflies in his stomach flew.

2. Small Acts of Kindness: Seth expresses his feelings through actions rather than words. He’ll bring them their favorite drink or snack from the cafe, offer to carry their things, or go out of his way to help with tasks, no matter how small. His crush may not even realize the effort behind these gestures, but Seth is secretly proud every time he makes their day a little easier.

Seth walked into the office break room, his tail swishing nervously behind him as he clutched a freshly brewed cup of coffee. The aroma of rich, roasted beans wafted from the cup, mingling with the scent of his nervous energy. He had spent the last ten minutes trying to pick the perfect blend, remembering how his crush always talked about their favorite flavor with a small smile that he couldn’t forget.

He spotted them sitting at their desk, their brow furrowed in concentration as they typed away, completely unaware of his presence. Taking a steadying breath, Seth approached, his ears twitching slightly. “Hey,” he began, his voice a little hesitant as he stopped just a few feet from them. His fingers tightened slightly around the cup as his crush looked up at him, their expression softening into a warm smile.

“I noticed you were out of coffee earlier,” Seth continued, holding out the cup toward them, his tail wagging slightly despite his best efforts to control it. “So, I grabbed this for you on my break.”

Their eyes widened slightly in surprise as they reached out to take the cup, their fingers brushing his for just a moment. “Oh, wow, thank you!” they said, the warmth in their voice making Seth’s ears twitch again. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Seth felt his cheeks warm as he smiled shyly, his gaze darting briefly to the side before returning to theirs. “It’s no big deal,” he replied, his voice soft but sincere. “I just thought… you’d like it.”

They looked at him for a moment, their smile growing as they brought the cup closer. “You’re really thoughtful, Seth,” they said, their tone filled with gratitude. “This is exactly what I needed.”

Hearing their words, Seth’s heart swelled with pride, and his tail wagged just a little faster. He gave a small, nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m glad you like it,” he murmured, his smile lingering long after returning to his desk, secretly thrilled that his small act of kindness had made their day a little better.

3. Stealing Glances: Seth can’t help but sneak glances at his crush when they’re not looking. He admires the way they move, their smile, and how they speak. If caught staring, he’ll quickly look away, his cheeks turning bright red as he pretends to focus on something else.

Seth couldn’t help himself. Every time his crush was nearby, his eyes seemed to have a mind of their own, drifting toward them like magnets. He admired how they moved, how effortlessly they seemed to brighten the room, and how their smile seemed to light up everything around them.

Caught up in the sound of their voice as they spoke to a coworker, Seth rested his chin in his hand, his gaze softening without him even realizing it. He wasn’t just looking—he was completely captivated.

That’s when they turned suddenly, catching him mid-stare. Their lips curved into a teasing grin, and they raised an eyebrow. “You know, Seth,” they said playfully, their voice laced with amusement, “if you keep staring, I might start charging you.”

Seth jolted upright, his ears flattening against his head as panic set in. “I-I wasn’t staring!” he blurted out, his tail twitching behind him as he waved his hands defensively. “I mean, I wasn’t staring in a weird way! I—um—” His words faltered, his cheeks burning a bright red as he scrambled to recover.

They burst into laughter, their tone warm and kind rather than mocking. “Relax, Seth,” they said between chuckles. “I’m just messing with you.”

Hearing their reassurance, Seth let out a shaky laugh of his own, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Oh… right,” he mumbled, his voice sheepish. “I knew that.” But his flushed cheeks and twitching tail betrayed him entirely.

4. Overthinking Everything: Seth constantly worries about saying or doing the wrong thing. He rehearses conversations in his head but usually forgets everything the moment his crush speaks to him.

Seth stood in front of his bathroom mirror, his tail twitching nervously as he stared at his reflection. His ears flicked slightly as he practiced his lines for the umpteenth time, determined to get it right. “Okay, Seth,” he muttered, pointing at himself in the mirror for emphasis. “It’s simple. Just tell them you like their outfit. That’s all. Easy, right?” He straightened his posture and tried again, his tone overly rehearsed. “‘Hey, you look great today!’ See? Simple. You’ve got this.”

Taking a deep breath, he smoothed his tail and made his way outside, his tail swishing behind him with anticipation and nervous energy. As he walked his usual route, his ears perked up, catching the familiar sound of their voice. His crush was heading toward him, their smile bright and inviting as they waved. Seth’s heart skipped a beat, and all the confidence he’d tried to muster suddenly evaporated.

“Morning, Seth! How are you?” they greeted, their voice warm and cheerful as they stopped in front of him.

Seth froze, his tail wagging anxiously as his rehearsed lines scattered from his mind like leaves in the wind. “Uh, your shoes!” he blurted out, his voice higher-pitched than he intended. His ears flattened in panic as he realized what he’d just said. “I mean, your shoes look great today! Wait, no—your outfit!” His hands waved frantically as he tried to recover, his cheeks flushing a deep red. “I mean, everything looks great—uh—on you—oh no…”

His crush blinked for a moment before letting out a soft, amused laugh, their smile kind and genuine. “Thanks, Seth,” they said, their voice warm enough to ease some of his embarrassment. “You’re sweet.”

Seth stood there, his tail now still as he stared at them, his ears twitching slightly. “I... uh, yeah. Anytime,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. As they continued on their way, he buried his face in his hands, groaning softly to himself. “Smooth, Seth. Real smooth.”

5. Protective Streak: While Seth is shy around his crush, he’s fiercely protective if they’re in danger or even slightly uncomfortable. His usual nerves disappear as he steps up, ensuring they’re safe and happy.

Seth’s ears twitched as he noticed the subtle shift in his crush’s demeanor. Their posture stiffened slightly, their steps faltering as a stranger stepped a little too close, their tone sharp and invasive. Seth’s usual nervousness vanished in an instant, replaced by a firm resolve. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, placing himself squarely between his crush and the potential threat.

“Hey,” Seth said, his voice steady, a surprising firmness underlying his usual soft-spoken tone. His tail, usually wagging or swaying nervously, now stood still as his striking eyes—a mesmerizing gradient from purple to blue—fixed firmly on the stranger. “Is there a problem here?” His ears tilted forward, his protective instincts fully engaged. “Because I’m not going to let anything happen to them.”

The stranger hesitated, clearly caught off guard by Seth’s sudden confidence. They scoffed, crossing their arms in a show of bravado. “What’s it to you, huh? I was just talking to them.”

Seth’s gaze didn’t waver, his gradient eyes glinting with calm determination and an unspoken warning. “Yeah? Well, they don’t seem interested in talking to you. So, maybe you should move along.” His tone remained calm, but an edge to his words made it clear he wasn’t going to back down.

The stranger grumbled something under their breath before stepping back, muttering, “Whatever, man. Not worth the trouble.” They turned and walked away, leaving Seth standing firm.

As the tension dissolved, Seth’s tail resumed its usual swaying, and the adrenaline coursing through him began to fade. He turned back to his crush, his ears lowering slightly as his protective demeanor softened into something gentler. His gradient eyes, now filled with warmth, locked onto theirs. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice returning to its usual nervous warmth.

His crush nodded, their expression softening into one of pure gratitude. “Thank you, Seth,” they said earnestly, their voice carrying a warmth that sent a new wave of butterflies through him. “I really appreciate it.”

Seth’s cheeks turned pink, and he rubbed the back of his neck, his earlier confidence giving way to his typical bashfulness. “It’s nothing, really. I just... couldn’t stand the thought of you being uncomfortable.”

Their smile widened, and they reached out, touching his arm lightly. “It wasn’t nothing, Seth. It meant a lot. Thank you.”

Seth’s tail wagged a little faster, and he ducked his head, a small, shy smile creeping onto his face. His gradient eyes, now soft and glowing, flickered up to meet theirs. “Anytime,” he murmured. “I’ll always look out for you.”

6. Subtle Compliments: Seth tries to sneak compliments into conversations, his voice softer than usual and his eyes full of admiration. He’s always genuine, even if his delivery is awkward.

The soft hum of conversation filled the room as Seth sat across from his crush, his tail twitching nervously under the table. He’d been silently working up the courage to say something, anything, to let them know just how much they meant to him. His ears twitched as he finally caught their gaze, his heart skipping a beat.

"You, uh, you really know how to brighten a room, you know?" he stammered, his voice softer than usual, the words tumbling out before he could overthink them. His hands fidgeted slightly on the table, and he quickly clasped them together to keep them still. "It’s... kind of amazing."

His crush blinked, their expression melting into a warm smile. "Thanks, Seth," they replied, their voice light and genuine. "That means a lot."

The sincerity in their tone made Seth’s ears flatten slightly, his face growing warm as a blush spread across his cheeks. He tried to look away, but their smile kept pulling his gaze back. "I mean it," he said, fumbling slightly with his words but pushing through. "You’re... you’re really something special."

Their smile grew even wider, and they leaned slightly forward, their eyes sparkling with amusement and appreciation. "You’re pretty special yourself, Seth," they said softly. 

Seth’s tail swished behind him, his heart thundering in his chest at their words. He ducked his head slightly, a shy grin spreading across his face as he whispered, "Thanks... I guess we’re both lucky then."

7. Dreaming of Confession: Seth often finds himself daydreaming about the perfect way to confess his feelings, picturing scenarios where everything goes smoothly. However, in reality, his confession is likely to be shy, heartfelt, and full of stammers—but completely genuine.

Seth had spent countless nights rehearsing this moment in his head, imagining every detail. He pictured himself calm, collected, standing confidently as he delivered the words that had been burning inside him for so long. In his daydreams, his crush would smile warmly, their eyes lighting up as they accepted his feelings with grace and maybe even excitement. It was perfect—every time he ran through it in his mind.

But now that the moment had come, Seth felt anything but confident. His palms were clammy, and his tail swayed nervously behind him, betraying his attempts to stay composed. He took a shaky breath, standing just close enough to his crush to feel the faint warmth of their presence. His ears twitched as he finally mustered the courage to speak.

“I—I just wanted to say that I think…” He faltered, his voice catching as his nerves threatened to consume him. He glanced down at the ground, taking another deep breath before meeting their eyes again. “I think you’re amazing. And, uh, I really like spending time with you. Like, a lot.”

His crush tilted their head slightly, their expression soft and attentive, encouraging him to continue.

“So, um, maybe we could… go out sometime?” The words tumbled out in a rush, and Seth immediately felt his cheeks flush a deep red. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, his ears flattening slightly as he braced himself for their response.

To his astonishment, his crush’s lips curled into a warm smile, their eyes shimmering with kindness. “I’d like that, Seth,” they said, their voice steady and sincere.

Seth’s heart nearly stopped. “Y-you would?” he stammered, his tail wagging furiously now. “Really?”

His crush laughed softly, their smile growing wider. “Yes, really,” they replied, their voice warm and full of sincerity. “I’ve been hoping you’d ask me.”

Seth blinked, feeling a rush of warmth spread through him at their words. He fumbled for something else to say, his thoughts a chaotic swirl of disbelief and joy. “I mean it,” he managed, his voice quieter now but no less genuine. “You’re… you’re really something special.”

His crush’s gaze softened even further, and they reached out to gently touch his arm. “And so are you,” they replied warmly. 

In that moment, Seth felt like he was floating, the weight of his nerves finally lifting. This was even better than any of his daydreams. It was real.

8. Clumsy Around Them: Seth, usually competent and steady, becomes noticeably clumsy when his crush is around. He’ll trip over his words—or even his feet—whenever they catch him off guard. His ears flatten in embarrassment, but it only makes him more endearing.

Seth walked into the cozy cafe, his ears already twitching as he spotted his crush seated near the corner. They were casually sipping their drink, completely at ease, and the sight of their warm smile when they noticed him sent a jolt through his chest. He lifted a hand in a little wave, trying to act cool, but his tail wagged uncontrollably behind him, betraying his excitement.

“Hey, Seth!” his crush greeted cheerfully. “Over here.”

Seth smiled nervously and started toward the table, weaving between chairs and patrons with his usual focus. But as he approached, his shoe caught the edge of a chair leg, sending him stumbling forward. His hands flailed instinctively as he tried to steady himself, and for a horrifying moment, he realized he was about to knock over their coffee table.

With a last-ditch effort, Seth caught himself on the edge of the table, managing to stop the inevitable disaster. He stood frozen for a second, his ears flattened, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I—I’m fine!” he blurted, straightening up and waving his hands as if to dismiss the near-miss. “Just, uh... testing my reflexes. Totally meant to do that.”

His crush burst into laughter, the sound light and warm. “Careful, Seth! You almost took the whole table with you,” they teased, their eyes twinkling with amusement.

Seth’s ears turned an even deeper shade of red as he rubbed the back of his neck, his tail curling slightly behind him in mortification. “I—I wasn’t gonna! I had it under control the whole time,” he stammered, though his sheepish grin said otherwise.

His crush leaned back in their chair, still smiling fondly. “Right… sure you did,” they said, their tone playful but kind. They reached out and patted the table as if to reassure it. “Well, at least you saved the coffee. That’s the important part.”

Seth let out a small laugh, finally relaxing a little. “Yeah, no spilled coffee here,” he said, trying to match their lighthearted tone. But as he sat down across from them, his mind was already racing, determined not to let his clumsiness get the better of him again—at least not too soon.

9. Quiet Admiration: When his crush talks about their passions, Seth listens intently, his tail stilling as he absorbs every word. His eyes light up at their enthusiasm, and he quietly commits every detail to memory, just so he can bring it up later to surprise them.

Seth sat across from his crush at a small cafe, his elbows resting on the table and his tail unusually still, a rarity when he was this close to them. They were animatedly talking about something they loved, their voice lighting up with excitement as they spoke. Seth couldn’t take his eyes off them, his ears twitching slightly as he absorbed every word.

"I’ve always wanted to visit that little bakery downtown," they said, their eyes shining with enthusiasm. "They have the best croissants, apparently. I’ve been dying to try them!"

Seth’s ears perked up at the mention of the bakery, his mind already picturing the quaint little shop. He nodded earnestly, leaning forward slightly, the intensity of his focus making his tail still further. "Really?" he asked, his voice steady but soft, trying to match their energy without betraying how nervous he felt. "That sounds great. We could... I mean, if you want, I could go with you sometime? You know, to check it out together."

Their grin widened, and the way their eyes sparkled made Seth’s heart skip a beat. "That sounds like fun. Let’s do it," they said, their voice brimming with excitement.

Seth felt warmth bloom in his chest, his tail giving a hesitant wag as a shy smile spread across his face. "Yeah? Okay, great," he said, his voice a little more confident now. "Just let me know when, and I’ll make sure I’m free."

As they continued chatting, Seth silently vowed to look up the bakery’s best offerings and plan the perfect outing to make it a memorable experience for them both.

10. Overly Concerned for Their Well-Being: Seth can’t help but fuss over his crush, worrying about even the smallest things. Did they eat? Are they tired? Did they bring an umbrella? His concern is always genuine, and he’s quick to offer help or comfort, even for minor inconveniences.

The rain was coming down steadily, a cold drizzle that clung to everything it touched and cast a silvery sheen across the pavement. Seth’s wipers moved rhythmically across his patrol car’s windshield, their steady beat the only sound besides the rain tapping against the glass. The streets were nearly deserted, the air carrying the distinct chill of damp weather that seeped into the bones. 

As he turned a corner, his ears twitched, catching sight of a figure up ahead. His breath hitched as he recognized them—his crush, walking briskly down the sidewalk. Their head was bowed against the rain, their arms wrapped tightly around themselves in a futile attempt to ward off the cold. Droplets clung to their hair, and their shoulders hunched as they tried to avoid the relentless downpour.

Seth’s heart clenched painfully at the sight. They looked utterly miserable, their soaked clothes clinging to their frame and their steps hurried but unsure on the slippery pavement. Without a second thought, he pulled his car to the curb, the tires splashing through a shallow puddle. Grabbing the umbrella from the passenger seat, he leapt out, the drizzle immediately beginning to soak into his uniform, though he barely noticed.

“Hey!” he called out, his voice carrying over the rain as he jogged toward them. The umbrella in his hand shielded him from the worst of the downpour, but his concern wasn’t for himself. 

His crush turned at the sound of his voice, their expression shifting from surprise to relief as they recognized him. “Seth?” they asked, their voice soft but filled with a hint of disbelief.

“What are you doing walking out here in this weather?” he asked, his tone laced with worry as he stepped closer, angling the umbrella to cover them both. Droplets rolled off the fabric, pattering onto the ground. “You’re soaked!” 

They shrugged sheepishly, their damp clothes clinging to them as they shivered. “I was just trying to get home,” they explained, their voice a little shaky. “I didn’t think it would rain this much.”

Seth frowned, his tail flicking sharply behind him in agitation. The sight of them shivering under the relentless rain stirred something protective in him. “Come on,” he said firmly, his voice gentle but insistent. “Let me get you out of this rain. My car’s right here.”

Without waiting for an answer, he gently guided them toward his patrol car, one hand holding the umbrella steady while the other lightly rested on their back. The warmth of his touch, even through the chill of their wet clothes, was enough to coax them into following.

When they reached the passenger side, Seth opened the door for them, his movements quick but careful. “Here, sit down. I’ll turn up the heat.” He waited until they were settled inside before closing the door gently. Water dripped from his uniform as he jogged around to the driver’s side, shaking droplets from his hair before climbing in.

As soon as he was seated, he cranked up the heater, filling the car with a comforting warmth. The windows fogged slightly as the temperature shifted. He reached into the backseat, rummaging through the items he kept there until his hand landed on a towel. Pulling it free, he turned back to them, his expression earnest.

“Here,” he said, holding the towel out. “Let me help.”

Before they could protest, Seth leaned over slightly and began patting their hair dry with gentle, careful motions. His touch was warm and unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world to make sure they were comfortable. 

“Seth, you don’t have to—” they started, their voice soft, but he interrupted before they could finish.

“I want to,” he said, his ears flicking nervously as he continued. His voice was quiet but insistent, the sincerity in his tone undeniable. “You’re cold and soaked. Just let me help, okay?”

They fell silent, their cheeks warming as they smiled at him, gratitude deeper than words shining in their eyes. “Thank you,” they said quietly, their voice filled with genuine emotion.

Seth’s cheeks flushed faintly at their response, but he didn’t stop, his tail swishing gently behind him. “It’s no big deal,” he murmured shyly, his voice soft as his hands worked to dry their hair. “I just... didn’t want you catching a cold or anything.”

His crush chuckled softly, the sound light and warm, and their smile grew as they watched him. For a moment, the cold rain outside was forgotten, replaced by the comforting warmth of the car, the gentle hum of the heater, and Seth’s tender care.

[queerdaisyjane]

”Mom! Turn around and let me get dressed,” you asked pointedly. “Oh sweetie, there’s nothing to be shy about, we’re all girls here, me, you and your sisters,” your mom replied. “Since you returned from the sexual reassignment center I’ve been dying to look at your cute little body. Your sisters have been asking as well. So we think it’s time for a fashion show. Oh look, no body hair. Did you get laser hair removal while you were in the hospital? Good for you, sweetie that will make it a lot easier for you, not to have to shave. And you have such a nice ass now. The hormones have done well by you. Not only have your breasts grown, but your hips are wider. I expect some boys are already starting to notice. It’s kind of exciting to be pursued, isn’t it? Before your transition, you were the pursuer and let’s be honest, you weren’t very successful. Now you can have a 100% success rate. As a woman, if you want to have sex, it’s virtually always possible.

As your mother, I have some things to teach you. Go lay down on the bed and take off your panties. I’m going to show you some things about your body. Do you still have that hand mirror in your bathroom? The one I gave you when you started to transition? Yes darling I’m so excited. I’ve done this lesson with each of your sisters before. We’re going to explore your pussy. Because that’s what you call it silly! No woman calls it her vagina. That sounds like you’re in medical school. No you’re a girl and you have a pussy, a cunt, a snatch, a cunnie, a veejayjay. You pick the name then.

That’s right lay back on the bed and spread your legs. Look at your cute cunnie with the mirror. Put your fingers down here; spread your lips open. It feels good, doesn’t it? Are you starting to get wet? That will happen when you’re with a man or a woman and you’re aroused, even if you’re not naked. Can you feel it, your pussy getting moist? You’ll soon be able to tell when it’s happening. That means you’re becoming receptive to sex, and to the situation that’s occurring. Could be a person or a situation or both. I rather like it when your father takes me by force, especially if I’m not really consenting. Even if it’s not what my mind says I want, my body betrays me and my pussy becomes flooded. But enough about me, we’re here to explore you. OK, take one of your fingers and start rubbing up here yes toward the top of your vagina. Yes, even above where you pee now. Feel that little nub? Oh yeah, babe, it feels really good, huh? Go ahead and rub it. Vary your pace and technique. You may like to go slowly around in a circle or use several fingers and go up and down very fast. You may also want to take your other hand and slip it under your bum and either your finger your pussy from the other direction, or stick it up your ass. Yes honey, you mustn’t think of your ass is dirty. Well, I mean it is dirty so you need to be sure to keep it clean now. We’ll talk about that later. Anal sex is a whole other topic, one I’ll also enjoy teaching you about. I think you’re going to find it quite pleasurable. Anyway, keep experimenting with ways to play with your clit and your holes baby. That way when you finally have the opportunity to be with a man, you’ll have some experience and know what you like best. You know there’s one other topic I want to mention to you now that we’re having girl talk. You may find yourself becoming very sexually attractive to your father, and also be attracted to him. It’s OK for young girls to have their first time be with their dad, and very normal. If you want to have sex with your father, I understand. He’s quite a man, obviously, I mean I married him. My only rule is this. Your first time has to be with me present. And remember you need to either be on birth control pills or use a condom if you’re having vaginal sex, and that goes for any man. You’re a biologically correct woman now and I’m not ready to be a grandmother. Of course, if you just want to give your father a blowjob or let him fuck you in the ass, well, you don’t need a condom for those things, although you may want it especially if you have anal sex and have not prepped and given yourself an enema. That can be a bit messy and using a condom helps.

After you’ve had anal sex a few times, you’ll become more comfortable, and you may want to do it without a condom and feel him ejaculate in your bottom. It’s a wonderful feeling! After he’s through it is sometimes nice to clean his penis with your mouth. This is considered a very submissive act and is called descriptively “ass to mouth,” or “ATM” for short. Men love to see this level of worship displayed, and traditional women, like in our family, are naturally submissive and obedient toward our men. Well, that’s probably enough for today sweetie. Do you have any other questions for mommy?

[ikkyfics]

Vows

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: “Writing these vows. It’s an impossible task. How can I put everything I feel for you into words? There aren’t enough. I start writing and everything sounds... small, you know? How do I sum up you?”

Warnings: none

Part of 3 Marry Me

Masterlist

James was sitting in the armchair near the window, the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow on his dark hair. He had a parchment in front of him, partially scribbled on, but most of the words were crossed out or abandoned at random. His quill spun awkwardly between his fingers as he looked at you across the room.

You were curled up on the sofa with a book, but he had no idea what the title was. For James, the sight of you, your forehead slightly furrowed in concentration, the way your fingers slid along the edge of the page before turning it, and the way the corner of your mouth curled, as if savoring each word, was simply mesmerizing.

“This is impossible,” he murmured to himself, but loud enough for you to hear.

You looked up, confused. “What’s wrong?”

James let out a dramatic sigh, dropping the quill onto the parchment and sinking deeper into the armchair. “Writing these vows. It’s an impossible task.”

You tilted your head, a smile starting to play on your lips. “Why? I thought you were great with words.”

He laughed, messing up his already wild hair, his glasses slipping a bit down his nose. “Normally, yes. But... how can I put everything I feel for you into words? There aren’t enough. I start writing and everything sounds... small, you know? How do I sum up you?”

Your heart tightened, but also warmed with the intensity of his words. Closing the book, you set it aside and moved closer. “Let me see,” you said softly, sitting on the edge of the armchair and picking up the parchment.

He hesitated but handed over the paper with a guilty smile. “Don’t laugh, okay? I swear I tried.”

You scanned your eyes over the scribbled words. There were unfinished sentences, like ‘I promise to love you with everything I am,’ and others with little drawings beside them—hearts, stars, and something that looked like an attempt to draw you, though in a clearly awkward way. You couldn’t help but giggle when you saw one draft where he wrote: ‘I promise never to steal your chocolate, unless you offer.’

“James,” you began, your voice warm with affection, “this is so you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that good or bad?”

“It’s perfect,” you said, looking at him with sincerity. “I don’t want perfect or polished words. I want them to be yours. And this...” you pointed to the clumsy drawing, “is exactly the kind of thing I love about you.”

James smiled, his blue eyes sparkling behind his glasses. He gently pulled you by the waist, making you fall into his lap. “Really? So you won’t complain when I give an entire speech about how beautiful you look when you’re concentrating, or how much I love it when you correct me with that face of ‘James Potter, stop being an idiot.’”

You laughed, the sound light as a melody. “Oh, I will, especially if you say it in front of all the guests.”

“Oh, so I should save it just for us?” He tilted his head, his lips brushing your temple before he kissed you gently.

Your heart melted with the gesture, but you tried to keep the playful tone. “Definitely. And the less you draw, the better.”

“Hey!” He made a mock pout, placing a hand over his heart. “My drawings are full of emotion, you know?”

“They’re full of something, for sure,” you teased, laughing when he pretended to be offended.

“All right, all right,” he said, holding your face in his hands and looking deeply into your eyes. “I may not be good at drawing, but I know exactly what I’m going to say in the vows. I’ll say everything I love about you at the right moment. Every detail, every little thing that makes me think I’m the luckiest guy in the world for being yours.”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes and tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let you. “Hey, no hiding those tears from me,” he whispered, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. “They’re beautiful. Just like you.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you, slowly and deeply, as if trying to convey everything his words still hadn’t managed. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, a peaceful smile lighting up his face.

“So, what do you think? Do I still need the vows, or is this enough?”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I think you’ve already said everything.”

James smiled, pulling you closer as if he never wanted to let go. “Great. Now, let’s move on to the second part of the plan: doing nothing but staying like this with you for the rest of the day.”

And at that moment, with the sunlight glowing all around and the sound of your laughter echoing through the room, it felt like the whole world had been reduced to the two of you. And that was more than enough.

[devildomwriter]

You Go To See A Christmas Carol Part I

Going to see a Christmas Carol in the Human World with Diavolo and the brothers takes a turn when the brothers forget what’s normal for them is not normal for everyone else.

You shuffled out from the middle seat of the packed car and hopped onto the icy pavement. You blew into your gloves to warm your face and looked around as the brothers climbed out of the cars around you.

Mammon: “So, this is the fancy theatre place, huh?”

Satan: “It’s a performing arts center.”

Mammon: “That’s the same damn thing!”

Lucifer: “Quiet! We’re late enough as it is! I won’t have you all bickering in the parking lot and wasting more time. You should be thankful Diavolo even invited you to this play to begin with.”

Leviathan: “What is this play about again?”

MC: “It’s called A Christmas Carol.”

Belphegor: “Ugh, we don’t have to listen to carolers do we?”

Beelzebub: “It’ll be okay Belphie.”

Belphegor: “No it won’t. Remember what satan did last time?”

Satan: “I was being slandered, those kids had it coming!”

Lucifer: “That’s enough! Let’s go! Start walking!”

MC: “Yes, father.”

Belphegor: “Pft!”

Lucifer: “What was that?”

MC: “I didn’t say anything.”

Lucifer: “That’s what I thought. Now does everyone have their human identities?”

Mammon: “Ugh, not this again.”

Lucifer: “This it’s important. Our names are well known up here, gathered all in one place like this it could scare someone.”

Belphegor: “That sounds like fun.”

Lucifer: “It won’t be when Michael hears about it. Now, tell me your names again.”

Mammon: “Matthew…boring ass name—“

Asmodeus: “Guuuuuys! I can see my breath! Look!”

Asmodeus: “Huuuuuuuh.”

Mammon: “Oh yeah! Neat!”

Lucifer: “Stop that. Honestly, you aren’t children.”

Lucifer ushered you to the growing lines as everyone excitedly waited to get through security and into the grand hall for the long-awaited performance.

Security Officer: “Lines that way.”

Lucifer: “Thank you.”

Satan: “We have tickets already.”

Security Officer: “Still that way.”

Satan: “Fine.”

MC: “Excuse me, we’re looking for a friend.”

Mammon: “Why would he know Diavolo, there’s like a million people here?”

MC: “He’s a real eccentric guy, red hair?”

Security Officer: “You mean that guy waving on the balcony?”

MC: “Yeah, that’s the one.”

Security Officer: “Been there about three hours now.”

Lucifer: “How many?”

Security Officer: “Staff was making a real big fuss about him too. You know him?”

MC: “Yeah, he kidnapped me a while back.”

Security Officer: “Excuse me?”

MC: “So the lines that way, yeah? Thanks.”

Security Officer: “Kidnapped?”

You chose not to answer him and ran to catch up with the brothers who’d quickly followed Lucifer lest they provoke his seasonally intense wrath.

Satan: “Lucifer you don’t need to call him you can see him from here just fine.”

Mammon: “I think he’s shoutin’ somethin’?”

Leviathan: “He’s saying…uh…”

Beelzebub: “I…can… see… my…. Breath.”

Lucifer: “…”

Lucifer: *sigh*

Asmodeus: “Isn’t it cool!!!”

Mammon: “Yikes! My ears Asmo!”

Lucifer: “That’s enough, where’d MC go?”

Leviathan: “Hey that officer guy looks kind of nervous now…he’s really staring at us?”

Lucifer: “He probably heard Mammon refer to Asmo by his name.”

Mammon: “You just referred to me by my name too!”

MC: “Hey guys, what’d I miss?”

Lucifer: “Nothing of significance.”

Beelzebub: “Lord Diavolo says he can see his breath.”

MC: “That’s adorable, I expect nothing less.”

Lucifer: “Please don’t encourage him MC.”

MC: “No promises.”

Lucifer: *sigh* “Does everyone have their tickets?”

Satan: “No.”

Lucifer: “What do you mean, no!?”

Satan: “You took them because you didn’t trust us to hold them!”

Lucifer: “Clearly I was right.”

Satan: “What?”

Lucifer: “Mammon this is yours. Your name is now Matthew Morningstar.”

Mammon: “I know, you made me go over it a million times. I don’t think anyone’s gonna even ask right?”

Lucifer: “They will in an interrogation.”

Asmodeus: “What? Are we being interrogated?”

Lucifer: “Hopefully not.”

MC: “The night’s still young.”

Lucifer: “Stop it, MC.”

Lucifer: “Levi, congratulations you get to keep your name.”

Leviathan: “Thank goodness.”

Lucifer: “Satan you’re going as Stanford Morningstar.”

Satan: “That’s a stupid last name.”

Lucifer: “Ignoring that, Belphegor your name is Todd.”

MC: “Why’d you choose Todd?”

Belphegor: “It means death in German.”

MC: “Yup, okay…”

Lucifer: “Beelzebub, you’re name is Benjamin, you can go by Ben if you want to— do not eat this ticket.”

Beelzebub: “…”

Lucifer: “Todd, you’re holding onto his ticket.”

Mammon: “Who the fuck is Todd?”

MC: “Belphegor, pay attention.”

Belphegor: “I am paying attention.”

MC: “I was talking to Matthew.”

Beelzebub: “Matthew?”

Lucifer: “Change of plan, we only call each other by our human names in front of other humans.”

MC: “I’m a human.”

Lucifer: “You don’t count.”

MC: “Shucks.”

Lucifer: *sigh* “Asmodeus you’re name is Amadeus, that’s an easy one, don’t forget it.”

Asmodeus: “Okie!”

Lucifer: “I’m going as Lucious, I believe that’s everyone.”

Asmodeus: “I’ll go first and show you all how it’s done!”

Leviathan: “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

Satan: “Because you should.”

Guard: “Ticket.”

Asmodeus: “Right here sweetie!”

Guard: “Amadeus?”

Asmodeus: “That’s right!”

Guard: “That’s a cool name. Seeing the Christmas Carol?”

Asmodeus: “I sure am!”

Guard: “Haven’t seen it in a bit, hope ya have fun. I’ll have to take my wife and kids when I get a chance, maybe next year. Alright, raise your arms for me.”

Asmodeus: “Oh no, did I mess up already?”

Guard: “Already?”

Leviathan: “Asmo, just T-Pose.”

Asmodeus: “Ew, why in the Devildom would I do that? That’s so not tending right now!”

Lucifer: “He has to use the metal detector, lift your arms.”

Asmodeus: “Ooooh, okay!”

Mammon: “Real master if I ever saw one…”

Asmodeus: “Shut up Mammon! I’d like to see you do better!”

Guard: “Any weapons on you, sir?”

Asmodeus: “Oooh, just in my pants!”

Guard: “I’ll need you to take it out for me.”

Asmodeus: “What? How bold! Right here in front of all these people?”

Guard: “…?”

Lucifer: “That’s it. I’m sorry sir, my brother was making a stupid dirty joke, none of us have any weapons. Lift your arms Asmo before I do it for you.”

Asmodeus: “That sounds like fun.”

Lucifer: “It won’t be once we’re home if you don’t hurry it up.”

Asmodeus: “Yikes! Okay, okay!”

Guard: “Okay…just gonna pat you down real quick….”

Asmodeus: “Pat me anywhere you want pal— ow! Lucifer that hurt!”

Lucifer: “Be. Quiet.”

Guard: “Lucifer…u-um…Amadeus, you’re all good.”

Lucifer: “Don’t you dare go anywhere, wait right there until Mam—Matthew goes through.”

Mammon: “Y’know on second thought why don’t I watch Satan first?”

Satan: “Ow! Don’t shove me what’s wrong with you?”

Lucifer: “Someone just go.”

Satan: “Very well”

Guard: “So…that’s you’re umm…brother?”

Satan: “Unfortunately.”

Guard: “Stanford Morningstar?”

Satan: “Stupid surname, I’m aware.”

Guard: “I think it’s quite unique actually, has a nice ring to it.”

Satan: “That’s your opinion.”

Guard: “Uh, lift your arms please…no weapons I presume?”

Satan: “None.”

Guard: “You’re all good, please proceed.”

Leviathan: “Mammon don’t push me what’s up with you!?”

Guard: “Are you next?”

Leviathan: “H-Hello, fellow human! Sir!”

Guard: “Haha! You guys are a pretty fun bunch aren’t ya?”

Leviathan: “We met at a convent.”

Guard: “What?”

Lucifer: “What?”

Leviathan: “I-I, um…it just came out.”

MC: “This is beautiful.”

Lucifer: “MC, you’re next. Please take them up to Lord Diavolo after this.”

Guard: “Alright, no weapons, you’re good.”

Leviathan: “Thank you, goodbye!”

Mammon: “…”

Guard: “So one big family trip today huh?”

MC: “No, I was kidnapped.”

Guard: “What?”

MC: “I forgave them though. Stockholm syndrome is a hell of a drug.”

Guard: “You guys really are pretty funny. You a comedy group or somethin’?”

MC: “We might as well be given my daily life.”

Guard: “Any weapons?”

MC: “Only spiritual.”

Guard: “Good on you. Me too. Catholic, what about you?”

MC: “I don’t even know at this point. I’m just here for Diavolo.”

Guard: “Well I hope you figure it out, have a good time.”

MC: “God willing.”

You looked at Lucifer as you said that and he glared at you while you gave Mammon, who was sweating bullets, a curious look. Something was definitely wrong with him.

Leviathan: “You think they’ll be okay in line without us?”

MC: “It’s just Beel, Belphie, and Mammon, it’ll be fine.”

Satan: “Okay. Let’s go up to see Lord Diavolo and brief him.”

MC: “Someone go buy some popcorn so Beel doesn’t have a breakdown in line.”

Asmodeus: “Leave it to me!”

MC: “No charming anyone, they’ll get fired.”

Asmodeus: “Ugh, fine.”

Mammon: “Hey uh…Belphie you mind going ahead.”

Belphegor: “What, why?”

Mammon: “I uh…may have forgotten somethin’…”

Belphegor: “…what did you do?”

Mammon: “Nothin’.”

Lucifer: “Mammon.”

Mammon: “I uh…forgot that weapons were kinda a big deal in the human world…maybe.”

Lucifer: “…”

Lucifer: “Beelzebub, Belphegor, don’t cause trouble, go right to MC they’re waiting at the door.”

Mammon: “Hey that’s my collar, hey! Where are ya takin’ me? Lucifer!”

Guard: “…”

Belphegor: “Just ignore them, it’s better not to question it.”

Guard: “Right…so umm, Todd, is it?”

Belphegor: “It means death in German.”

Guard: “Okay….arms up, please….You’re good….right along…”

Beelzebub: “Belphie, my ticket.”

Belphegor: “Oh yeah, here.”

Guard: “I’ll take that, thank you. Benjamin?”

Beelzebub: “What? No, it’s Beelzebub.”

Guard: “What?”

Beelzebub: “Who’s Benjamin?”

Guard: “This ticket is assigned to a Benjamin Morningstar.”

Beelzebub: “Oh yeah…that’s me.”

Guard: *mumbling to himself* “He’s the last one…you can do this…”

Beelzebub: “Is something wrong?”

Guard: “Arms up please…quick pat down…go ahead.”

Next

[esoteric-crow]

hey actually isn’t there something kind of really sad about the fact that the hardest difficulty (that isn’t just like. hell or hell. which is just ‘haha hehe Blow up.’) is called Dante Must Die. i think about it a lot. i can’t quite put my finger on why it makes me miserable but maybe someone else can.

but you know what i CAN talk about and i DO have actual fully formed thoughts about?

regenerating like crazy is great. but isn’t there something kind of inherently fucked up about the fact that, because of the regeneration dante and vergil have, neither of them will ever have tangible evidence to themselves or others of their suffering? asking themselves, was it really that bad? did it even happen at all? no matter how much you put vergil through hell and how afraid he is inside, there will never be a mark on his skin that says “i have suffered”. the world leaves no proof, nothing to take home from this experience aside from a more broken mind. vergil doesn’t say his feelings, or even allow them to surface properly, because that’s a kind of vulnerability he cannot handle. the only way he could perhaps earn someone’s sympathetic care is by expressing what he has suffered through, but he cannot verbalize that. and he looks perfect. unmarked by time or trauma. there isn’t a single part of his body that could scream out for him that something horrible has happened that he cannot figure out how to deal with alone.

and dante is just as poor off. and he’s very difficult to figure out emotionally to a passerby. dante purposefully puts on a happy face every day, and to the majority of the world, it’s convincing. there’s certainly no evidence to themselves contrary. not a scratch on him. but he is like kind of constantly getting the ever loving fuck beat out of him. stabbed and jabbed. when you look at him, you see happy, sweet, goofy dante. for all the years of pain he’s gone through, there isn’t a single marred inch of his skin that could tell you even a day of the agony unless he told you. and why would dante do that when he can pretend it simply isn’t happening until he’s alone and can sit with the terror that’s constantly in him and the loss he’s been living with, over and over losing people and being surrounded by the ghosts of their presence. whether the ghost is a wayward descendent, a gun, or just a lingering smell of ash in his childhood home. but that will only be private. he can be the walking dead, he can treat himself like shit, but his body refuses to show anything for it. and he’s certainly not going to die.

obviously, the same thing can be said for the opposite side of the spectrum: scars can be a constant reminder in the mirror of what happened that you cannot erase, always to some degree a part of you. among other stuff. so both sides of the coin are full of The Pains and The Anguishes.

on a side note, i really like when people give them like, one scar. i don’t really have a favorite one that people give vergil but i really like dante with just the one bigass gnarly one in the middle of his abdomen from the rebellion gettin jammed in there. his One scar. a treate. like it defies his regeneration somehow.

i love making a scarred up guy. i have plenty of scars n marks myself, and i feel like they should definitely be more normalized, so like, no this post isn’t anti scars or something. they’re normal and not ugly or whatever the hell people try to say. this side note is probably entirely unnecessary, but i’m tired and i’m worried about someone misunderstanding me i think. anyway i’m trying to say ooh scar angst yeah but sometimes No scars is also fucked up too. that’s the point here.

to sum up: i believe there can be something Fucked Up and angsty to be said about the fact that the sparda boys heal perfectly fine, but only externally. it is 3am. this is not articulated as well as it could be i don’t think. aaaand post.

[susiekern]

7. the one with a challenge

a/n: I've been fighting with tumblr for TWO DAMN DAYS to post it, so I really hope you enjoy

warnings: swearing, suggestive ig

word count: 1.227

lyrics from: The Apparition & Jaws - Sleep Token

masterlist

“No way.”

“Way.”

The face that Megumi makes rips a laugh from you. It was your classic evening meeting, but since the weather was tragic for the past few days, you’ve ditched the rooftop, settling in your room instead. Lying on your bed with a couple of snacks and a respectful distance between you, you’ve spent the last hour catching up. With how busy Megumi was in the past few weeks, your talks were usually short, and there were fewer of them. Somehow you only now told him about the DM from Zenin, but the amount of strength it took not to scream about it as soon as he stepped into your apartment? You deserve a medal.

“Maybe it’s some sort of ‘be kind to your lamest fan’ charity event. You know, like make a wish.” He says, and you flip him off.

“Maybe I’m just cool as fuck and someone finally appreciates that?” You counter.

“Nah, I’d bet on the charity.” Fushiguro laughs a little when you groan and shove a pillow towards him. For a moment you close your eyes and enjoy the peaceful atmosphere, something you lacked in the past days. Working on a new collaboration, streaming, and maintaining your life at the same time was a bit tiring and mostly overwhelming. That’s why you appreciate the calm evening more than usual. You and Megumi talking about the events of this week, the room illuminated just by the fairy lights, music playing in the background from your PC… it’s nice and relaxing. Very much needed for probably both of you. Mr. Guitarist was close to being done with recording the songs for his job, so he stopped spending almost every waking hour of the day in the studio. You can clearly see that he’s tired, but when you commented on it, he shrugged and said it was more important for him to create something he’d be proud of than sleep for healthy 8 hours.

“What’s with the aggression?” Sudden question silences the thoughts in your head, but you keep your eyes closed still.

“What do you mean, aggression?”

“That’s the fourth time you hit me with a pillow. I got two kicks to my shins and a mean fist in the arm.” He counts all of your attacks, and you peer at him.

“I’ll never believe that this fist hurt you in the slightest. For someone who barely eats and locks himself in the studio, your biceps are crazy. But okay, I suppose I’m a bit more aggressive than usual.” Megumi looks shocked, although you’re not sure if that’s because of your aggression or how easily you’ve admitted it. “It’s been a busy week, and I have a bit too much energy. And I haven’t gotten my normal dose of annoying you and Yuji.”

“Damn, first of all, I still train even when I’m working, thank you very much. And second... I don’t even know how to comment on that. You should just punch Yuji, not someone who spends time with you, and bring snacks.” With that statement, he lies back, with his arms behind his head. It’s not weird that you looked at his flexed muscles and a sliver of abs revealed by his shirt rolling up, right? God, this man is fine. Does he have to be so fine?

“Yuji just whines when I do that, though. You flex. Easy choice.” You sigh and close your eyes again, pretending like it was just a normal thing. Yes, you both sometimes threw a flirty comment here and there, never directly referring to your night together, but it was a little different.

When you were on the rooftop, it gave you the freedom of saying shit in an open space. Here, in your room, you are almost painfully aware of how close he is lying. You can feel the heat from his body and smell his perfume. And you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t doing things to you. But Megumi is no better. You’ve noticed how he eyed you up after coming, taking in your shorts, simple t-shirt, and messy hair. Or how his eyes lingered on your face for a little longer than they should.

“So, you like what you see, huh?” He turns on his side, leaning his head on one hand, his elbow keeping him up. If your eyes were open, you would see how his own trace your body, ending their path on your lips. He just needs to lean forward a little… “That makes sense, I’m the hot neighbor after all.”

“Huh?” That brings you to open your eyes and look at him with shock. Only now do you realize that the snack barrier between you two did close to nothing, given how close his face is to yours. And you do not miss how his gaze moves from your lips, but after another second or two. It’s a dangerous game, but neither of you seemed to care.

“I’ve seen your stream. Well, a part of it. How did you put it? ‘I can’t say he’s bad-looking." You’re blushing at this point. You had no idea he watched any of it, especially since he saw how you answered a question about him.

“Don’t let it get to your head. I was just entertaining the chat.” He smirks, knowing very well that’s a lie, and leans a little closer. Your heart seems to be beating to the rhythm of the Fallen song that’s playing in the background, your eyes peeking at his lips on their own.

‘And I'm not here to be

The saviour you long for’

“Sure.” His voice goes down to a whisper. The seconds go by, and you seem to be frozen, both calculating how bad it would be to take the next step.

“Megumi…” You’re whispering too, hypnotized by how intense his gaze is. You want to tell him you shouldn’t. You really do. But the amount of time you’ve spent thinking about him, about his kisses and touch, keeps you from doing it. Would it really be that bad? Doing this one more time?

“Tell me you don’t want it.” There’s a hint of a challenge in how he says it. And since when are you one to hide from a challenge?

You’re the one to kiss him first this time. His reaction is immediate; the hand that was lying on the mattress cups your cheek as Megumi tastes your lips, and you need to hold back a moan. How much you’ve missed that feeling. His touch is gentle, yet reassuring, when he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. He moves to hover over your body, holding his weight on one arm.

‘Show me those pretty white jaws

Show me where the delicate stops’

“Fuck. I’ve wanted to do that ever since you stepped on that damn roof.” Whispering, he lowers his lips down to your jaw and neck, and your hands now move to his sides and back.

“You should’ve.” You whisper back. You don’t need to see his face to know he has that irritating smirk on, you can feel it on your skin. His hands make their way under your shirt, and he pulls himself from kissing your neck to look in your eyes. “Just one more time?”

“One more time.”

‘Show me what wounds you've got

Show me love’

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