#not even gonna touch on the poetry

[john-keels-sinister-goatee]

Literary journal editors: We want writing that's bold and fearless, that's aching and intimate and authentic, that spins language into a string and plucks it until we vibrate in sympathy like wet crystal wine glasses, that makes us see mescaline phosphenes when we close our eyes and vomit up cheesecloth ectoplasm in rapture, and--

Every prose piece in their journals: Completely indistinguishable from any other arbitrarily selected piece in structure, mood, voice, diction, rhythm, and overall style. Can only be read aloud in an indoor voice, to a round of polite golf clapping punctuated by one or two airy coughs. Could have been written by an AI trained on the MFA portfolios of everyone who ever contributed to the gentrification of Williamsburg.

[im-an-anthusiast]

Grasp Of Gold

Eyes drawn to a gleaming, golden glow

It spreads with a pace not at all slow

From my fingers to all that I grasp

Spreads gold, eliciting a sweet gasp

All that I touch, it turns into gold

All that I touch, it betters tenfold

All that I touch, they love to behold

All that I touch, with my grasp of gold

Everything, so much better like this

Turned gold, filling anyone with bliss

Turned gold at a graze, at a mention

Why would that not be my intention?

Must be made use of, before it’s gone

Gold – they say – such a precious metal

Weight so crushing, far more than a tonne

Snapping my neck, with each new medal

All that I touch, it’s good, I’ve been told

All that I touch, like in tales of old

All that I touch, its fate, long foretold

All that I touch, with my grasp of gold

Gleaming hands trailing all in their reach

Drenching all things in a golden bleach

Shining fingers rammed deep in my core

So that I may be what you adore

Will you hold dear, all that I will hold?

In spite of? Because of? I can’t tell

Will you cherish, all that I turn gold?

Is there an end to this lustrous well?

All that I touch, is it what I’m told?

All that I touch, is it what it’s called?

All that I touch, will it rust, when old?

All that I touch, with my grasp of gold

Hands around my neck, glistening gold

Hot flesh and blood turn overly cold

A golden statue, for you to see

Isn’t that what you want me to be?

And if the gold ever goes matted?

Will you still be there, for me to hold?

Or has what I am never mattered?

Am I naught, without my grasp of gold?

All that I touch, has to be turned gold

All that I touch, must better tenfold

All that I touch, they have to behold

All that I touch, with this grasp of gold

Eyes drawn to a dreaded, golden glow

It spreads with a pace that feels too slow

From my fingers to all that I grasp

Spreads gold, eliciting that sick gasp

[patheticpuppyboyslut]

(not hornyposting just musing lol) so i’m a singer-songwriter and performer irl and i’m thinking about the fact that i go around on a day to day basis singing serious, professional songs that use dogs and brainwashing and cannibalism as painful heartbroken metaphors. and i’ve been doing this for years but little by little all these things i process my anguish through in songwriting, have also become how i satisfy my sex drive. and i don’t know what to do with that information i just think it’s wild!! fun fact abt me i guess. i go out there in public singing about how service is my fulfillment and calling myself a good boy and i sing about wanting to be violently torn apart and eaten and i’m like. yeah it’s a metaphor. yeah dw i’m really normal. i don’t fantasize about having my humanity stripped from me and being treated like a stupid sweet puppy barking and whining for my lovers sick and twisted pleasure what are you TALKING about. i just like the poetic imagery of it. i SWEAR.

[izzy-b-hands]

Not to be like 'everything reminds me of them' but I got this random poem during a paid survey I took today (I dunno what the poems had to do with it, don't ask me, I just wanted the sixty eight cent payment lol) and I just:

THE HOUR-GLASS

by: Ben Jonson (1572-1637)

Do but consider this small dust, here running in the glass, By atoms moved. Could you believe that this the body was Of one that loved?

And in his mistress' flame playing like a fly, Turned to cinders by her eye? Yes, and in death as life unblest, To have't expressed, Even ashes of lovers find no rest.

Source: https://www.poetry-archive.com/j/the_hour_glass.html

Like. It's not a perfect fit but just. fucking Blackhands I just !!!!!!!!!!!!

[bookwyrminspiration]

i am standing at the kitchen counter deseeding a pomegranate (my favorite fruit) and I am carefully going through every seed (because I forgot about it) (because it's started to turn) and they are dull red instead of vibrant and taut (it's started to turn). I discard almost half the pomegranate (my favorite fruit) seeds because they're mushy (I forgot about it). and I remember how every day I saw the pomegranate on the counter (I remember things when I see them) and thought that I should deseed it (because it would start to turn) and then I'd turn away and I'd forget (because I couldn't see it) (because I didn't want to remember that I was forgetting). and now all these seeds (mushy, dull red) are being discarded because I forgot (even though it's my favorite fruit). and I can remember (because I'm seeing it) (because I'm holding it) (because the juice is on my hands) that I forgot it day after day. and I wonder if my distress, the frustration will be enough (so I won't forget it next time). and I know it won't be (because I'm going to turn away when I'm done) (because I won't see it anymore) and that I am going to forget, again, to deseed the pomegranates (my favorite fruit). I will be here again (again). i discard another seed. i am standing at the kitchen counter deseeding a pomegranate

[thesoupisburning]

today i would like to not be touched is that so hard an ask

[materialised]

LUFFY'S HEADCANONS (SFW & NSFW )

: I write these because I can't stand my feelings whenever I see his bright smile in every episode so I gotta express my own thoughts. Honestly I wish I have a boyfriend like him in my life pfft- Like whoever gonna dislike a honest boy like him, right? Oh I love Luffy so much ><

Caution: Minors DO NOT INTERACT. English is not my first language but I hope you guys like this. Oh and it's pretty long, I didn't count at all.

◜⁑✢⁑±⁑✢⁑」

SFW - Oh sure our boy is sweet and lovely.

Luffy, who always greet you with a smile whenever he sees you around and uses his ability of Gomu Gomu to wrap his arms around you tightly.

His love language is skinship. He loves touching you, holding hand while walking together, leaning his chin over your shoulder when you are chatting with Nami and wait until you notice, turn your head then he gonna smile at you so purely.

Ever since he was a kid, he didn't like to take nap so much unless he was extremely tired and need a short nap time to refill his energy but after you two were together, Luffy usually naps with you, Nami and Ussop often saw two of you resting on each other's head while sleeping on the deck. "They look so cute", said Nami.

After Carrot "garchu" Luffy few times before and he remembered that, he's trying that on you, too. Hands around your waist and "garchu" you, nuzzling his cheek against yours playfully while smiling so hard.

Shares his foods with you, whatever he has in front of the table - meat, drinks, sweets,... He's gonna let you take bites and looking at you with a happy face. He loves foods, but he loves you more and happy to make his lovely girlfriend full with foods - that's how he shows his love towards you.

Luffy can eats anything and drinks anything, he wasn't a picky one, but, he loves your hot chocolate you made him. When the weather seems colder than usual, you will take a hint of that and go to the kitchen, making hot chocolates for the crew and Luffy always have the largest cup with lots of marshmallows on top. That's how you show your love in return.

Telling you all of his thoughts, his story, his worries, he trusted so so much because you love him so much. He lets you know the other side of his, his thoughts were his emotions and intelligence.

"I like you (y/n)", "I love you (y/n)", "You're adorable, (y/n)", "This looks so much like you, (y/n)!", and plenty more of love-words he told you. He loves calling you by your real name, "baby", "babe" are also okay but he prefers calling each other by real name better. Not the romance one knows how to talk as if he was writing a poetry but straightforward, short and always success to make your cheeks turn red.

Eyes don't lie. He is like a walking-radar, must say since he can sense your presence real quick and tells the crew that "(Y/n) is here" before you appear.

Loves resting on your thighs, feeling your fingertips brushing his hair down his features.

Luffy loves hearing your heartbeat, your warmth, the softness of your chest against his head, so soft, so tender, so warm, so rapidly same as his heartbeat when he's around you.

He will marry you, wife you up, shower you with his love and affections. He will be the best husband in the world, the best dad ever to you two kids. Your kids gonna be so same as him, big monkey dad with his little monkeys.

"Glad I have you, (y/n)", he mumbled as kissing your lips under the moon in a sleepless night.

NSFW - The more he loves you, the harder he fucks you.

「۰۪۪۫۫●۪۫۰⊰❈☸❈☾۰۪۪۫۫●۪۫۰」

He loves you, he fucks you, he loves you so damn much that those silly and normal skinship aren't enough anymore. He needs to fuck you deep and raw, makes you cum so good, cum several times on his cock. And that's the first thought made his priority SNAPPED.

You always on his mind, no matter what. How many times you appear in his head? Uncountable. Luffy thinking about you day and night, he even uses his imagine and he knows he fucked when you started appeared in his wet dream, lewdest dream he ever had after that long time hitting his own puberty. And he so honest about that, he shared with you without any embarrassment because he trusted you no matter what. And you? Not even mad at your boyfriend, instead you explored the fact that Luffy also have lust and needs.

Inexperienced, indeed, he is still a virgin, he never felt a touch of woman before since he's not interested in those stuffs. Yet, after being in relationship with you, he found himself thinking about sex nonstop.

Masturbate after fight, he has to relieve the stress out.

Luffy eats, sleeps like a baby, which is healthy one so his cum taste good, not bitter, not sour, taste like nothing but the white egg-yolk. However, not masturbate often so his cum really thick. You loves swallowing his cum and he enjoys it, too.

He is a virgin but when its come to a real fuck, he wasn't. He ain't playing like a shy boy who doesn't know what to do, he sees your body as a new island for him to explore inch by inch, every dips and curves on your body, he has to touch them all - the curve of your shoulders, your breasts, your ribcage, your waist, your hips, the swell of your asscheeks and your backside got him swallowed in excitement. You're beautiful, what that's people say? Breathtaking, yeah that's one.

How he touch you for the first time? Luffy's taking his time groping your beasts, rolling your hardened nipples between his slight calloused fingers to see your reaction before move to next place on your body. He didn't think much during it, he lets his primal desire takes the lead of his whole muscles. A soft moan escaped your lips as his warm palm brushing your breasts just bringing his desire closer, getting hard under his jeans for sure. After kissing your waist, he slowly pried your legs open, revealed yourself fully to him.

If Luffy must describe what he was saw, then there is it: your arousal a smearing both your inner thighs; really messy, soft, plumb thighs made him wants to take a bite as if there were two delicious cakes in front of him. Then your private part, puffy wet folds drenched with clear discharge, your small aching clit and your cunthole timidly hiding under the wet folds - leaking. Using his thumb to open yourself to him, a slight pink and red shade of your vagina throbbing, clenching around nothing under his gazed. He was staring so long, studied your body and your most sensitive part, carved them deep into his brain that makes you blush so damn much before takes off his shirt. "L-luffy... It's so embarrassing if you keep staring like that...", you watching him between your spread-opened thighs with deep shade of red but won't close your legs because you know he won't let you do that. "It's pretty, (y/n). This little hole of yours keeps throbbing ya know that?", Luffy rubbing his palm against your soft mound, eyes drooping and his voice harsher than previous moment.

Luffy fucks you raw, always. He likes it rough and balls deep, he hates the silence especially during sex. He wants to hear the lewd sounds of wet skin slapping against skin, the bed squeaking under you both and your moans. Moans for him, more and more, don't be shy, he loves your shaky voice calling out his name. Luffy loves the sounds of your pussy squelching while taking his cock and he probably says it out.

Dirty talk? Nah, he doesn't even have to try because he IS the dirty one. He says what he saw, your pussy so red and swollen and his cum oozed out our cunthole? He definitely said it out: "Looking at my cum leaking out your pussy, (y/n), shit, that's a lot, babe." And said that with a straight face with toying with your clit.

Oh he such a sweet soul but oh so a dirtiest, nastiest one. "Your pussy is so red, babe, let me suck your clit.", and didn't wait for your response but buried his face into your abused red pussy lips.

He fucks with any new idea came up his mind. For example, he told you to masturbate for him on his bed, then he freed his cock, fingers wrapped firmly around his length and stroking up and down along with the movement of your fingers thrusting in and out your hole until you both reached the peak, Luffy used his free hand to keep your legs opened wide and cumming on your bare pussy. Each thick rope of white, hot cum spurting on your clit, pussy lips and some on your mound and some goes inside your pussy but he won't stop. Luffy nudging the head of his cock against your cum-covered pussy to smear his cum all over your cunt, even teasing you by collected some cum on his cockhead and pushing the tip inside. After that, he asked you to put your panties back on and walking around with his cum still on your pussy like that.

Likes teasing you by grinding his dark pubic hair against your sensitive clit. That was hot to him, he could do that for hour to make you whimper and brows knitted together.

Another one, Luffy loves tapping his cockhead on your clit, or your cunthole to feel your thighs shaking, hips jolt upward and dragging his tip up and down your slit. He doesn't know why he did that himself but "It's hot, slap my cock on your pussy like this making me want to cum so hard, babe."

What his dick looks like? Well, over average size, maybe > 16cm (6,3 inches), tanned, and really thick (almost 5 inches). Slightly curved to the right, dark red tip and few veins running on underside. Not trimmed, he leaves it natural and he found another reason to leave it that way - tease your clit. In general, his cock taste good tho, same as his cum and fit in your mouth and fist perfectly.

His stamina is amazing, look at how long he had fought Kaido so we can say that he can fucks you that long enough. He can goes round to round, he fucks you fast and rough like a rabbit in heat without hesitation and he won't let you take a break to chase your breath during it.

Result: your pussy all red and sore, but oddly satisfied since you boyfriend made you cum so hard, multiple times. You still in the haze and fucked out, his cum dripped down the sheets from your pussy. Don't worry if you gonna get pregnant, Luffy surely wife you up, you gonna carry his baby and be his wife even in another life! And about Luffy? Our boy fell asleep fast, snoring already but in the morning he wakes up, he will give you your aftercare.

So that's all >< that's what I got in my head right now lol. If you enjoy this little pieces of mine, don't forget to let me know your thought about this. Love you and have a great day <33

[foxesjostens]

you know when todd is like i won’t read at poetry meetings nobody is gonna want me there i can’t read out loud i won’t do it and neil just looks at him like really looks at him and in the softest voice goes “you really have a problem with that don’t you” and he’s not judging todd at all he just finally understands how todd works and the fact that public speaking (especially to people he barely knows) is something that todd cannot handle and that’s okay and once he understands he just immediately is like okay how do i fix this because i want todd here and i want him to enjoy this with us and he just goes oh perfect i’ll rearrange some things and todd will wanna come :) it’s just so touching and todd probably isn’t used to people accommodating him he doesn’t even know what to do with it . my point is i am going insane over this

[bombuni]

hi babi !!! js wna say I love ur user ++ ur writing sm :3 was thinking if maybe u can do anything related to stoner bf San if that's okay?? like maybe him being vv needy while high idk. no rush, xoxo!

contains: sub!san x gn!reader, drug usage obv, bj’s, very soft tbh

minors dni

San’s touchy.

He’s just like that as a person, you’ve come to realize. His hand is always around your shoulders or waist, fingers finding their home in the crook of you neck. You let him, seeing as that’s how he shows his love with everyone. It’s just-sometimes he gets too touchy. Like, he’d breathe for you if he could.

It’s especially bad when he gets high. Once the smoke fills the room, he’s babbling on about the spots on your face and the shape of your cupids bow, waxing poetry about how your touch makes him feel. You’re not complaining at all. It’s only bothersome when he does it during his downtime and you’re busy. Today is not one of those times.

“Baby.”

You hum in acknowledgement, eyes glazed as you mindlessly watch whatever San had decided to put on in the background. You can feel his hot breath fanning onto your neck, the heat of the room and his body filling up your insides.

It’s clear San’s already gone, his low tolerance making him an easy target every time you two smoke together.

“Are you done with work?”

He’s cute when he’s mindless. You turn to look at him with a lovesick smile on your face, “Yes, Sannie. I am.”

San blushes, full-on like a tomato, when you look at him. He giggles like you’ve told the funniest joke, hiding his face in his hands as he scoots away from you like some embarrassed kid out with his first girlfriend.

“You can’t-you can’t just look at me like that,” he still giggles as he speaks, peeking his eyes from behind his hands.

You know San-you know that even though he backs away from you every inch closer you get to him, his itch to touch you only grows. He just gets an extra layer of shyness when he’s high, but it’s easy for you to break through it.

“How am I looking at you?”

He freezes when your hands easily spread his thighs apart, giving you complete freedom to sit between his legs. You’re some sort of Medusa to him, turning him rock hard just with your eyes. He feels his breathing grow heavy when one of your hands traces patterns on his knee; a hot, tingly buzzing sensation following your touch. It makes him fold for you immediately.

He watches you with half lidded eyes, “Like you’re gonna eat me. Are you gonna eat me?”

You chuckle at that, “Wish I could. Then I could keep you forever,”

He takes that tiny comment seriously. Like the mere idea of being apart from you steals the air from his lungs, “I am yours forever.”

Your smile down at him makes his heart grow with love, he feels it every time he’s with you. When he gets like this he truly believes you keep him alive just by looking at him. Your touch is just a nice bonus.

He holds your wrist gently, “Can I show you? That I’m yours forever?”

“No,” you gently take his bigger hand off of you, “I’ll show you.”

San’s not exactly sure what you mean, but he lets you do whatever. He watches as you gently take his sweatpants off, cooing niceties that make a whine build in the back of his throat when he lifts his hips up for you.

You toss his pants to the side, dragging warm fingers up over his thighs tantalizingly slowly until they reach his bulge. He’s hard already, and he’s on the verge of tears at the feeling of you palming him. The way you roll his big cock against the fabric of his underwear makes him slowly go insane, hips bucking every so often when you squeeze his cock. Precum stains his boxers now, but he doesn’t care. No, it just shows how much he belongs to you.

He can’t support the weight of his thoughts anymore. He lets himself tilt back, head banging against the arm of the couch. San lets out a surprised whine when he feels your wet mouth against his neck. He flinches, before succumbing to the ticklish feeling. You’ll leave your mark on him and he’ll be proud to show it off.

San is overly sensitive. The feeling of your sweet lips and loving hand is already too much for him. He’s keening and moaning like a slut, letting himself feel every little detail because he trusts you. Just knowing it’s you makes it all the more hotter.

“My sweet boy-“ a kiss and a moan, “do you want more?”

His head raises so fast you’ll scare it’ll fall off, “Yes, please.”

He sounds like he’s about to cry and, god, does it make you throb. You pull his cock free from his boxers, as it aches and begs for you. It’s so pretty and wet, soaked in precum and San with his panting, flushed face is the perfect picture of desperation.

His hips buck to find friction, “Can I put it in your mouth, please? I’ll be good, just-please, can you touch me?”

You cut off his desperate pleading by stroking him once. Immediately, he’s putty in your hands. His entire body relaxes against the couch, letting you control him and letting you decide what to do about his needs. All he knows is that it’s you who’s touching him, and that’s all he needs.

The lewd sounds coming from his wet cock fill the room, making him even more light-headed. Everything he’s feeling makes him think he’s in a dream, and when your mouth sucks on his tip like a lollipop, it just makes him hit cloud nine.

His hands fly to the back of your head as you take all of him in, every inch that fills your mouth slowly sending him deeper into a frenzy.

He groans, “‘S so good, baby, I love you, thank you for taking my cock-“

You bob up and down, letting San buck his hips while his mouth shoots off whatever his 2 functioning braincells can think of. Most of it is just ‘I love you’s.’

He gasps as you take him to the back of your throat, the feeling of you gagging on him burning his insides with desire. He fucks your mouth-once, twice- before he shoots his cum down your throat.

“Fuck-I fucking love you-“ he says as he holds you still, making you take what you caused. In his mind, it’s his reward, getting to prove to you just how good you make him feel. How you’re the only one for him, and he’s the only for you.

He pants below you, face flushed and sweaty, as you let him go with a pop, “‘M so sleepy. Can you cuddle me?”

You tuck him back into his boxers before letting yourself plop onto him and wrapping your arms around him. Who can say no to San?

bom note: i think his extreme romantic needy side would come out when he’s inebriated at all. like he’s truly a lover boy at heart. also excuse my lack of knowledge on weed or if this feels ‘inaccurate’ as i literally only take edibles once in a blue moon

[bloopy-writes]

Bruce having one night a month with each kid to spend some bonding time with them is such a cute idea I just had so here’s some examples of stuff they’d do:

So with Dick they go to an ice rink that Bruce rented for the night and spend the night having stupid competitions and Dick showing off how he can still flip on the ice and Bruce trying not to embarrass himself then they go to a private tour of a new zoo that opened

With Jason they go to a broadway show that he had been wanting to see for months and Jason will forever deny how touched he was that Bruce payed attention to his ramblings enough to remember what show he wanted but it meant a lot to him

With Tim he takes him to a really stunning lakeside park and sits with him as tim spends the evening indulging in his photography which is something he rarely gets to do and Bruce spends the whole evening listening to his kid passionately talk about how he’s gonna edit each photo and his process

He takes Cass to a ballet show and then afterwards a private session in a dance studio where she can dance in a professional setting to her hearts content and Cass totally gets him to dance with her for a few dances

Bruce takes Stephanie to a horror movie showing at the cinema and gets seats that are far away from other people and they spend the whole movie analyzing each movie and commenting how they’d escape in that scenario and then they go to dinner and watch a piano concert because Steph loves the piano

With Duke Bruce decides to take him to an escape room where they face off in three different rooms and Duke ends up winning two of the three and afterwards they go to a poetry slam event at a local cafe that Duke really likes to go to and Bruce tells him that next time he’d love to see him preform

With Damian Bruce first takes him to an art gallery and asks him about all the paintings and his opinions and then he takes him to a pottery painting studio where Damian makes mugs for everyone and makes one for Bruce that Bruce doesn’t let anyone else touch and finally they go to dinner at an Arabian restaurant which Damian really likes cuz it reminds him of the food he grew up with

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Benevolent Hand

Khonshu x Fem!Moon Knight!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, masturbation (Fem), fingering, dirty talking, degradation(?), Khonshu wants to actually fuck you but won't admit it because he's a prideful shithead

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: did I stay up until ten last 4am to spit this shit out? Enjoy whatever horny poetry my sleep deprived brain supplies you. Be free, my horny little doves *yeets y'all into a field*

Also idk why but this gif does things to me

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

It was a dull, dead night. There were no evildoers to stop, no killers to send to the sands of the Duat.

Even Badr told you to go home and rest, you deserved it after your diligent work and devotion to your god.

But, of course... "settling in" for the night wasn't something you know how to do anymore.

You've been Moon Knight for so long you weren't even sure what normal people did during quiet nights at home, anymore.

You ate, showered, exercised in the cramped space of your seedy apartment, before sitting on the couch to idly flip through channels, clicking your tongue and reminding yourself to sign up for some streaming services or pirate some stuff at the local library.

You were so bored you settled on an old corny horror film from the 80s, R-Rated and strangely enough, uncensored. But then again, adult channels were still a thing apparently, so you settled in for some cheap blood and guts, stupid busty camp counselors and a masked killer.

But of course, the sex scenes were there, as well. It didn't show anything like porn would, but the actors did a good job of "having" sex beneath the covers, their bodies flushed and sweaty as they went at it like rabbits, panting and saying things to each other in shared breaths.

They were gonna die, that's how these things went. You have sex in a horror movie, you die. The psychos from Scream got that part right about the ole cliché.

But... The way they acted with each other, playing out the part of a couple very much in love and very horny had you... bothered.

You craved that kind of intimacy. Sure, you can go out and find someone to hook up with, have a forgettable one night stand with some idiot at a bar... but it didn't have the physical closeness that was acted out on the cheap flat screen in front of you.

Being a Fist of Khonshu was often lonely life. You couldn't engage in the seeming frivolity of a relationship that was seen every day you walked down the street. No bed warmed by another body, no good morning kisses, no... love?

You shoved those melancholy feelings aside for now, deciding to focus on the throbbing heat blossoming between your legs.

You bit your lip and slid your hand down your front, slipping it beneath the waistband of your pajamas and beneath your underwear, touching the slick wetness that began to coat and soak through the fabric covering you as the movie droned on.

Your fingers slowly started circling your clit as you breathed out a hot puff of air, eyes closing momentarily as you imagined it.

You, with a man who was head over heels with you, tangled up in the sheets.

Sweaty, groping hands pawing at slick skin, tongues dancing as you kissed like you were all the two of you needed to breathe--

Your fingers began to increase their movements, gathering your sweet juices on your fingers to lubricate your clit as you circled with more need.

You dropped your head onto the back of your couch with a pathetic groan, eyes closing as you let the mental image take a better shape, using the sounds from the TV to help mold the scene for you and your faceless, imaginary lover.

You grunted and kicked off your bottoms and underwear, discarding them on the floor as you spread your legs, one foot resting on the cushion to allow better access as your other hand groped at your breast over the fabric of your threadbare tank top.

"Fuck." You cursed aloud to yourself, falling back into your fantasy as your fingers played with your wet, puffed folds.

Your lover would slowly slink down your body, his lips and tongue pressing on your skin until his mouth reached your hip bones.

He would kiss your clit before licking up your slit, his tongue teasing your entrance, tracing it before he wrapped his lips around the bundle of nerves at the top.

You let out a heady moan, your toes curling as you held back the urge to plunge your fingers inside of you; for now settling on focusing your attention on your twitching clit.

You roll your hips in time with your hand, sliding your hand beneath your top to squeeze your breasts and roll your nipple between your fingertips.

Your lover would lick, kiss, nip, and tease you. He would rut his nose against your clit as his tongue--

Your mental fantasy bubble popped when you felt a very large, very warm, and very real hand slide down your torso, leaving a blazing trail beneath your skin in its wake.

"I sometimes forget how often mortals have these urges." The deep, raspy voice that the hand belonged to sighed out, his tone dripping with... disappointment? Boredom?

You snatch your hand away from your core and instinctively try to close your legs, to conceal your shame as the ancient being crowded around you, the dry smell of sand and spices assaulting your nose as his heat threatened to overwhelm you as he leaned over the back of the couch.

"K-Khonshu--!" You sputter, almost gawking as his bare hand slides to replace yours, his large, thick fingers spreading your lips and gathering your wetness on his digits.

"A rather needy thing, aren't you?" His voice murmured, almost a humored huff coming from him as his thumb circled your clit, sending bolts of pleasure jolt up your spine.

You bite your lip to stifle the whimper that wanted to come out; shame blending in an intoxicating cocktail as your very ethereal and otherworldly benefactor began to pick up where you left off.

"You were being so loud a moment ago." He chastised, his fingers moving very quickly over your clit, his mind focused on how the little nub was swollen and twitched beneath his grasp.

"Don't bother concealing it from me, now, you needy little thing. You're like a cat in heat, right now." You could feel his voice rumble through your, your bones trembling and the deep baritone vibrating your clit as your hand gripped weakly at his forearm.

Your stubborn pride told you not to, not to give in, that this was probably one of the most shameful things a god could catch their follower doing, but...

Most gods wouldn't participate, now would they? Surely, they would chastise you, or walk away and leave you alone to tend to yourself.

When you didn't comply, he grunted and pulled his hand away, your dripping cunt lamenting the loss of his warm touch; hips chasing him for more.

The characters in the movie long moved past the intense love-making between the protagonists. One of them screamed as they found the dead body of one of their friends.

"Disobedient little runt. I will not give you what you want so easily, especially not if you defy me."

The threat was cold, and... oh, fuck it.

"I--I'm sorry." You whimpered, your head dropping back once more, this time hitting the stiff bicep of his other arm he used to brace himself on the couch.

"Good girl." He purred, his hand once more resuming his cruel, blissful torture.

You hiccuped and moaned, rolling your hips once more, this time into the touch of another as heat bloomed low in your belly; molten lava creeping through your veins like thick molasses.

Your chest heaved as his other arm curled around you, his hand taking the soft weight of your breast into his palm, kneading the mound of flesh and pulling your nipple in perfect synchronicity with his other.

"Oh, ffuuuh--" You panted, your body caged from behind as the ancient deity whose age was beyond counting helped you rub one out on your dingey, shitty couch in the dead of night.

You felt your womb throb, wanting desperately to have something inside--

"Poor thing." Khonshu tsk'd. "Could you not find someone--something--to satisfy you? Here you are, rutting against my hand like it is all you know how to do. Pathetic."

You moaned louder this time, arching your back at the words he spat at you. You weren't one for this kind of dirty talk... but having it come from him had your head spinning like you had just gotten off of the tilt-a-whirl on Coney Island--but in a sinfully delicious way.

"Perhaps I should have left you alone. You seemed quite consumed by your little fantasy." He mused, his thumb pressing so hard against your clit that it had you seeing stars behind your eyelids.

"What were you imagining, little dove?" He rasped lowly, the dry, smooth side of his beak sweeping against you, feeling almost cool to your blazing cheek as you leaned into it.

"A nobody? Playing house with you? Laying you down in bed and devouring you like a banquet, perhaps?"

Oh, little did he know how close to the truth he actually was.

Or maybe he did know, and was using it to merely drive you over that mind-numbing precipice you wanted so desperately to fling yourself off of?

You could never tell with him, not when he was playing his mind games.

"I... Uh--ah--" You whine.

Khonshu's fingers pull up enough to slap your clit, the sudden feeling making your body jerk against him as the sound of your went cunt was heard even over the volume of your forgotten movie.

"I am reciting rhetoric. I will talk, and you will listen." He growls, his hand sliding down, his palm grinding against your clit as his fingers toy with your fluttering entrance.

Oh, you were so close, so fucking close. If he would just--

"I don't understand how mortals can function when urges like these are so strong." He sighed boredly, as if he wasn't currently fucking you with his hand, teasing your needy hole but not giving what you were truly craving...

"You are destined for more than a pathetic little house with a yard and a garden. You were meant to carry out my will."

That irked you, deep down. Yes, you knew attaining that very thing was highly unlikely for you, but he didn't have to insult you for fantasizing about being normal.

"F-fuck you." You managed to spit out, eyes crossing as they rolled back into your skull, your voice lacking the conviction and venom you wanted it to.

"You seem to be doing just that, my dear." He tipped his head to the side in a jerking motion.

He gave you not a moment to ponder his words as he hooked a thick finger inside of you, curving upwards and pressing hard against that textured spot inside your spongy walls, making you cry out and lift your hips off of the couch

"...In a manner of speaking." He sighed, pumping his finger in and out, paying extra attention to that oh so delicious spot within you, mapping out your very insides with methodical precision, quickly finding the method to get the best reactions out of you as your walls clenched down around him.

"Look at you, so desperate that you are letting me do this to you." Khonshu mocked softly, a chuckle coming from him as his fingers plucked your nipple and his palm ground hard onto your clit.

"Do you like this? Your god giving you such special attention?"

You keened, panting hard as your orgasm began to swell, each pulsing wave battering down the shores of pride and resolve you had struggled to build over the years of serving out the will of this... god.

"Ah... You are close, are you not?" He teased you, "Let's see..."

He managed to slip another finger inside of you, a groan actually rumbling out of him. You never thought you'd heard a sound like that from him.

But then again, you never expected him to finger-fuck you in your own couch before, either.

"You're tight, little bird." He growled, his voice strained as he scissored his fingers in and out of you, shoving you forcefully to the edge of the shores of your oblivion.

"When was the last time you bedded anyone other than your own hand? Months? Years?" He huffed, pumping them in and out of you rapidly, now.

You were so close you could feel the waters of sybaritism that you could taste the very petals of a lotus on the tip of your tongue.

"No wonder you have been so testy as of late."

Almost.

So close.

Just a bit more!

He leaned over, holding you to him almost like a child clutching a beloved toy; only it was far from something so innocent as you ride his hand like your life depended on it.

Your mouth open, your tongue just barely peaking over your bottom lip as you finally dove into the warm waters, silently waiting for the petals of a lotus to fall onto the wet, writhing muscle; drowning in each drop as your orgasm dragged you out to tide, drowning you as your god dabbled with your most intimate parts in such hedonistic fashion.

You were so lost in your post-coital haze that you didn't even register his hand leaving you until his body retracted; leaving you bereft of his warmth.

You turned your head in time, your eyes bleary, blood-shot and faraway as you watched him turn, toying with the sticky wetness coating his skin.

"Don't fall into this trap again, little dove." The god of the moon tells you over his shoulder, before disappearing in a cloud of mist.

But most certainly not before you had taken notice of the prominent bulge beneath his bandages and robes...

[merakiui]

crow & goat in courtship.

yandere!rollo flamme x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, dub-con, coercion, religious symbolism/imagery, mentions of pregnancy, implied breeding kink, obsession, alcohol/intoxication, slight codependency, non-consensual touching/groping, au in which you attend classes at nbc instead of nrc under rollo's supervision note - the crow is always on call.

i. “but each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed. then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death” (james 1:14-15).

Rollo answers on the third ring.

He always does—claims it’s polite to answer after three chimes just as it’s right to knock thrice before entering a residence. He’s stubborn in his ways, a crow bound by routine, only ever doing things in threes. Habitual to a fault, strictly so. You are similar in that regard; you find solace in the familiarity of predictable patterns. The relief that stems from knowing what will come next—in being prepared for all manner of events even if you haven’t yet reached the first.

But then you also like fun, and the best sort of fun is often had with a disregard for habit. Disorder and spontaneity. Throwing all caution to the wind. Trusting in the arms of the crow who will catch you, the carefree goat, when you fall.

“Good evening,” he mutters into the phone, his voice sounding so close despite the distance between you and him. “It’s rather late. Is there a specific reason you’re calling?”

“Rollo! Hey! Hiii,” you drawl, grinning like a fool. You stagger through the door into the chilly, starless night, your heels slipping on cracked, frozen pavement. “Whoa!” You stumble against the railing with a carefree giggle. “Almost lost my footing!”

There’s a stalling silence on his end. And then, with a deep inhale, he asks evenly, “Have you gone out?”

“Mm. Yeah. Went out to celebrate with some friends.”

“Some friends?”

“Like one or two…or a whole house full of ’em.”

“(Name).”

“What?” When he doesn’t reply, you laugh. Not because it’s humorous or embarrassing, but to merely fill the silent gap. “What? Roro, you’re sho stern. Don’t lecture me!”

“So you’ve been drinking.”

“What?! No!” With an offended scoff, you shake your head even though he’s not here to witness it. “You know NBC’s no-booze rule. I’m not gonna get caught—won’t get caught.”

“You slurred your speech and called me ‘Roro’—both in the same sentence, mind you.”

“So what? Rollo, Roro. Tomato, potato.”

“It’s to-may-to, to-mah-to. And—” he exhales an exhausted breath— “Never mind. That’s besides the point. Why, pray tell, have you called me at midnight?”

“Why’re you up at midnight?”

��I could ask the same of you.”

“Not fair! I asked first!”

“Not quite.” There’s a smile in his voice when he speaks next. “If I were to visit your room right now—knock on the door and wait there—would you let me in?”

“Yeaaah,” you start to say, only to catch yourself halfway in the trap. “No!”

“No?”

“No…thank you. No visitors tonight. S’late and I gotta study for tomorrow’s exam.”

“And a party will somehow aid in that endeavor? (Name), you do realize you’ve spun one too many lies and now you’re woefully entangled.”

“Less poetry and more picking me up.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.”  

“Rollo, please be nice,” you whine, your lips twisting into a pout. “S’cold and I didn’t bring a jacket and I’m kinda-maybe-sorta a little…”

“A little…?” he encourages, and you can just envision that self-satisfied smirk of his.

“A little-drunk-but-also-not-really-drunk-but-also-totally-drunk,” you hastily admit in a string of syllables. Snowfall swirls around you, and you grasp the bannister to prevent yourself from falling over. “Oh, it’s snowing.”

“I can see perfectly clear from my window. Beautiful, is it not?”

“So stop being an obtuse dick and come get me before I freeze!”

“Should that come to pass, you may just rival the Righteous Judge at the entrance. I’ll be sure to polish you every month.”

“I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna poison your coffee and watch you drink it, and then we’ll see who’s stiffer than a statue. It’ll be you—in death, y’know!”

“Will you now?”

“If you don’t pick me up, yeah!”

There’s the distinct sound of shuffling. You hear crisp pages turning and then a book closing before the rustling of fabrics invades your keen ears. You picture your responsible friend pacing around his room as he dresses himself for the weather.

“Very well,” he says after a moment, ever the composed gentleman. “Send me the address.”

“You’re the best. Love you lots. Thank you! Thank you!” You press your lips together to mimic obnoxious kissing sounds, which elicits a huff of amusement from him. “It’s not a far walk. Promise.”

“Stay on the phone with me. I’ll be there shortly. And don’t go anywhere.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“You do realize sneaking out is against the rules, yes?”

“Aaand here comes the lecture. Gimme a break. Can’t a girl celebrate her birthday in peace?”

You drag your hand over your mouth and wipe sticky wine residue away. In the process, you smear black lipstick. Dark like night, like a crow’s inky feathers, it leaves your once-flawless appearance in disarray.

“There are much better ways to celebrate. Did I not say I’d take you into town this weekend and we could celebrate then?”

“That’s so far from now.”

“It’s three days away, (Name).”

“Still too far.”

“Don’t expect me to provide cover if you get caught.”

“And you can just leave campus whenever you please?”

“This is different.”

“Yeah?” You giggle into the speaker, warm and fuzzy and endlessly entertained. It’s enough of a distraction to keep winter from seeping into your marrow. “How so?”

“This is official Student Council business.”

“Really?” you ask with an impressed whistle. 

“Indeed. On account of my being President, it’s only natural I punish students who conduct themselves poorly. Shall we review your list of infractions and decide on a suitable penalty together?”

“I’d rather we not.”

“Oh, but I insist. Perhaps our discussion and the cold will sober you and teach you a valuable lesson about integrity.”

With an exaggerated sigh, you lower onto the step to await his arrival. The icy stone digs harshly into your rear, which is hardly covered by your too-short dress. It’s definitely not fingertip length or weather-appropriate. You shiver and stuff your hand into the pocket of your cropped sweater. You should take shelter inside, where it’s plenty cozy and inviting, but your inflated pride disagrees. Retreating to the warmth after you’ve already bid farewell would be foolish. At least, that’s what the alcohol in your system is telling you.

So the goat endures the cold, for it knows that that is all that awaits it as the crow closes in.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m an academic criminal. Get on with it, President Flamme.”

“Let’s see. You’ve disobeyed campus curfew, snuck out on a school night, attended a party when your grades could use improvement, neglected your studies, drank carelessly, called the one person who can and will punish you for this and the aforementioned…”

The sound of crunching snow pierces the air then, and you look up in time to see Rollo approaching. He’s dressed in a long woolen overcoat with a scarf twined around his throat and a hat pulled down over his ears. He smirks at you from where he stands on the pavement, cutting the call and sliding his phone into his pocket. Tilting his head at you, he pulls another coat from under his arm and offers it to you.

“And you’re dressed for your death.”

“Okay, that one’s personal.”

Rolling your eyes, you rise on unsteady legs. He meets you at the stairs, climbing two of them to help you into the coat. It’s an embrace more welcoming than that of a lover’s, so soft and comfortable that it immediately rejuvenates your weary skeleton. It smells like Rollo, too—like coffee and weathered pages in an old book. You hum your approval, snuggling into the fluffy fabric. He’s plopping his hat on your head next, tugging it so far down that you almost slip on the slick stoop. Like he always has, ever since he first met you, he catches you. 

“Hello to you, too.”

You blink back at him. “Yeah, thanks. I owe you.”

“Let me see your hands.”

He takes them in his, runs his thumbs over the tops, and then procures mittens from his pockets. You watch him slide both over your hands, rubbing them together briefly to generate heat at a faster rate. Your body sways, gaze unfocused. He’s just about to unwind his scarf from his shoulders when you reach out to stop him.

“I’m good. This is enough.”

“You’ll catch your death—”

“And you won’t in just a coat and scarf? At least let me give you your hat back.”

He shakes his head, holding his hand up in objection. “You’ve been out in this weather longer. It’s only fair. But, really, did you have to wait out here? Couldn’t you have gone inside?”

“My pride’s on the line.”

Rollo’s unamused stare cuts through you. “You won’t have much pride left if you’re encased in ice.”

“Then we’d best get moving. Campus awaits!”

You wrap your arm around him, clinging out of instinct. Rollo peers at the proximity, his lips upturned in a covert half-smile, and his arm snakes slowly around your waist in return. You don’t notice this, for you’re too busy dragging your feet through the snow while he acts as a helpful crutch, stable in a way you just aren’t. Not right now, at least.

But then the goat is never stable enough to survive the inevitable—the swift, sacrificial blade that befalls and beheads, leaving gory spatters to run red and visceral in the wake of the end.

You’ve never known, and you never will. How could you when he’s been nothing but cordial? A clean slate. Admirable guidance. A helpful friend. Your only friend.

The crow descends in three knocks. He lets himself in regardless of whether you wish to have him as a guest. He is unwanted and feared, the very foundation of death and destruction, and he has set his beady eyes on you—the goat.

It’s common knowledge that you cannot pray away the crow. He persists, as always, quiet even when his wings beat against his sleek, feathered body like the loudest war drums. And the caw—the dreadful caw! It’s a most disturbing cry, one that pierces through the dark like jarring slivers of light in shadow. Or a butcher’s blade through flesh, sawing through sinew to get to brilliant bone beneath. The hoarse call of Death’s crows—they circle in a murder, swooping down to meet you as harbingers of malevolence.

Rollo has always strived to lead a virtuous existence defined by a rigidly righteous moral compass. In the gloomy pits of misery and hatred, where he festers in a bundle of tar-colored feathers, he does not hope for sunshine. He no longer knows the uplifting ebullience of life’s greatest miracles. Because there is no miracle in death or tragedy. Because there is no happiness to be found in a doomed hand, every card showcasing Death and its many forms. Not for him. Never for him.

But then, amidst the despair and despondency, each all-consuming, a goat fell into his lap.

A divine offering to the crow, who is so far from divinity himself, can only mean one thing. It is neither conciliatory nor a reward.

It is a sacrifice.

But then the City of Flowers adores its goats—reveres them for all that they are. Goats are cherished, not sacrificed. But to drag a nameless, magicless goat from the grounds of its far-off, inconceivable pasture—is that not the cruelest form of sacrifice? To drop this goat into the equitable embrace of the crow—is that not the sweetest gift? Generous yet unfair. Plucked right from the folds of another heaven.

The mortal coil can be callous, which is precisely why the crow is permitted to exist in impartiality. Death does not care for who you were in life and who you will be in the next, and the crow only ever oversees finales. Never beginnings. Much like a deity does not care for what good you can do if you do not first adore them in copious adequacy.

The crow carries with him a most fearsome knell—the chime of judgment, to be delivered right on time like an execution staged for noon.

All throughout life, you can plan for the crow and all that he shall deliver, and still you will never be fully prepared to greet him. He brings misfortune bundled in baskets woven from the bones of sacrifices past. In holy scripture, it is the goat who is punished most often—who is slaughtered at the altar, who is arranged as peace to quell the torrential fury of the deity, who is made to suffer at the hands of those hoping to avoid damnation or godly wrath, who is meant to shoulder the blame when no one else wants to. Favors have been bought with the blood of the goat, its head nestled amidst verdant grasses, pure forevermore even when it is dyed carmine. It appeases and pleases.

So it’s just—religiously so—that the crow takes the goat for himself, strips it bare, and proves to the prying eyes in heaven that the greatest sin is more than lustful temptation.

For the crow—for Rollo—the heaviest sin, a vile, cursed burden from his very first breath—it is existence itself.

And only the blood of a pure goat can wash away such filth—can cleanse what has been rotting within. The goat can make a garden out of the crow—bring life and love to its barren insides regardless of however fleeting its presence may be. It is within this garden—within the softest, fertile soil—where the crow shall sow the most special seeds.

You cross the bridge with Rollo, your laughter filling the cloudy sky as you recall all manner of amusing stories from the past few hours. Drinking games paired with drunken gossip. Delicious wines and snacks. A party with an energy so lively it could rival the city’s annual festivals. Even though he doesn’t seem outwardly pleased to hear any of it, he listens well and occasionally stops to steady you before you can topple over the railing into the water below. Your heels clack against smooth, frosted stone, and the wind whips at your face, each snowflake biting and vicious. Noble Bell’s vast campus waits just beyond the wrought iron gate, standing proud and backdropped by the night.

“You think anyone’s up?” you ask, curling your fingers into his arm as he guides you through.

Rollo eases the gate shut. “They might if they hear you. It would be best to keep quiet.”

You pantomime zipping your lips and discarding a nonexistent key. He quirks a small smile at that and then hurries you along. Nights are always peaceful at Noble Bell. The halls are desolate and quiet, devoid of all signs of student life. Your and Rollo’s shoes click in unison as you walk through the hall and past the courtyard. You gaze at the arched openings, counting each one as they become fainter with the growing distance.

Your breath materializes in front of you when you sigh. “I’m so sleepy. I wanna go to bed for a thousand years.”

“You’ll miss your exam if you do that,” he chides, tutting. “And every other exam that will follow.”

“That’s the point!” Your voice bounces off the walls, returning to you in a reverberating echo. Cringing under Rollo’s disapproving glower, you speak softer. “Oops. Sorry.”

“Just how much have you had to drink? You can hardly walk straight without leaning on me for support.” He narrows his eyes, his lecherous gaze crawling down to your bare legs. “Not that I mind…”

His words don’t reach you, for they’re swallowed in a howling gale as it sweeps across the courtyard. You spy the dormitories then, each one looking more like gingerbread covered in confectioners’ sugar instead of buildings dusted with snow. Your eyelids droop while you cross the distance to reach your designated building, your every movement feeling slower than molten molasses, and by the time you’re actually inside the dorm—Rollo’s shushed you more than once—you’re yearning for the warmth of your bed.

So it’s bewildering when, rather than your own room, you stop at Rollo’s instead.

He opens the door and steps inside with you in tow. You keep your mouth shut, too tipsy to think coherently. After he clicks the lamp on, which leaves the room awash in soft shades of amber, he shrugs his coat off, draping it over a nearby chair. You drag yourself over to his bed and flop down, squeezing your eyes shut to block out both the light and your spinning surroundings. Rollo doesn’t say anything, but you hear him shuffling about his room, crossing to close and lock the door before walking back towards you. The mattress dips under his weight, and you feel nimble fingers working to undo the buttons on your coat.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you ask, cracking your eyes open just as he’s pulling the coat from your person.

Rollo folds it neatly and sets it aside. “You’re practically melting into my bed already. It would be quite the undertaking to make the walk back to your room at this hour.”

“So considerate,” you tease, grinning up at him. Sleep stretches your expression into something dazed, and you yawn loudly. “Then I’m gonna sleep here. Wake me up before class.”

You almost drift off, but those frigid fingers are moving to tug you out of your sweater next. They crawl across your bare shoulders like a spider on a web.

“You really are something,” he marvels, glancing at your body sprawled beneath him. “To brave the cold in such thin material…”

“Stupid choice. I know.”

“It appears we’re in agreement.”

“Shut up,” you snap back with a weak laugh. “You’re no better, showing up so cozy and then giving everything to me.”

Rollo memorizes the way the form-fitting dress hugs your figure. He inhales a shaky breath and brings his hands back to his sides. Your chest is right here. So close. So frustratingly close.

He can’t indulge. He really shouldn’t. It’s unbecoming to show such unfair favorability when he’s meant to remain impartial. Death should not lust for the beauty of life because it only knows endings—or the beginnings of ghostly eternity. The crow should not allow himself to be swept up in tumultuous temptation.

And the goat is the only friend he’s known—the only one who understands the crow, if only by a few meager slivers. But someday the goat will know.

Rollo swallows his inhibitions, beating his urges away with a stick. He’s not one for rash decisions; he’s meticulous and thoughtful. He would never take such a risk—would never nosedive into a crude confession. He’s plotted it in his diary, but it’s never come to fruition. He restrains himself because he must. Because it’s the polite and proper thing to do when caught up in courtship. Because if he opens his torso and allows you to poke around inside, you’ll find that he is not the friend you’ve known for all these months.

He is a fiend, devilishly so, wearing the hide of a goat to put the real one at ease.

Warring with rationality, he slides away from you and intends to recover at his desk. He’ll scrawl all of the things he wishes to do to you in there and that will be enough. That will help clear his head of the intoxicating fog that settles whenever he’s with you in private. But then he’s reaching to untie the canopy draped over his bed, each corner undone within seconds. The sheer curtains fall in thin layers, confining the both of you to this island in the middle of a barren sea. It’s darker in here, dimly lit by the faint glow of the lamp outside.

You blink up at him, owlish.

“You…” He stops himself, shakes his head, and turns away. Hastily, he fishes his handkerchief from his pocket. With this enclosed propinquity, he can smell your perfume. It’s spiced and flowery—alluring and adorable all at once—and it assaults both his nose and mind. “You should sleep. It’s late.”

This is for the best. The crow is only meant to look after the goat, remain unaffected even in the face of lustful, fateful sacrifice.

But you’re here. You’re splayed like a spill, perfectly imperfect, and your shoulders are a canvas coveting kisses. He clutches his handkerchief in a white-knuckled fist.

“Mm, okay. Night…”

“Yes… Yes, good night,” he mumbles, lowering his handkerchief. He swallows thickly.

This is for the best.

But even though he thinks this, his arm is stretching out. Closer. Closer. So close, until his hand is hovering just above your chest. He’s so close.

When will he ever have another chance as fortuitous as this?

His hand closes around your breast and he squeezes it experimentally. It’s soft when his fingers dig in gently, depressing with the pressure of his digits. Rollo’s green hues flick to your face. Your eyes are shut, and soft snores slip from your parted lips. He glimpses your chest again and, with the utmost care, slides your dress down to free your breasts. They’re mostly bare, save for the heart-shaped pasties covering your nipples. Rollo heaves a disbelieving sigh.

“Promiscuous,” he mutters, plucking the edge of the first adhesive and peeling it away to reveal the perky nipple beneath. You look so soft, so clean, so pure… What was he even worried about? No one’s had you before. He’s sure of it.

He’s about to remove the other heart when your voice freezes him.

“What…are you doing?”

He holds your gaze. It’s tense for a moment, unspoken accusations brewing between the both of you.

“A massage,” he blurts, but there isn’t a hint of haste in his tone. He suspected this outcome when he chose to traverse the line of right and wrong—and ultimately sided with the former. Because to him it’s right, even if it’s wrong. He knows what will soon follow: disgust and detestation.

Instead, you giggle. It’s sleepy and silly-sounding, but it’s also light and lively.

You catch his hand in yours and drag it back to your chest. “If you wanted to touch, just ask,” you murmur, your words slurring. “Nothin’ wrong with it.”

You’re not just perfect and pure. You’re everything.

Yes, it’s the alcohol blurring your brain and the intimacy of being trapped in a quiet, comfortable space such as this one that allows you to desire him. Would it be the same if you were sober? He can’t quite say, but he doesn’t wish to know. This is enough. This is paradise.

He kneads slow, steady motions into your breast, and you watch from where you’re lying on the bed. His other hand slithers between your legs to search for your clothed clit. Your breath hitches just as his fingers brush it, and he presses in, rubbing with his index. Your arm falls over your face, and your chest rises with every breath.

“How does it feel?” he asks, rolling your nipple between chilly digits.

“Not enough,” you bemoan, curling your fingers into a fist. “S’not enough…”

“How fascinating. I suppose cheap wine truly does turn you into a pute.”

“No… Was definitely expensive. The fancy kind.”

“Was it now?” He circles your clit, predatory and shark-like, his eyes alight with glee. “You say that, but look at the state it’s left you in. Utterly disheveled.”

“That’s because of—” you gasp, your voice rising in pitch— “because of you…”

His heart hammers in his chest, a resounding, pounding melody.

The City of Flowers treasures its goats, and the crow loves his fiercely even though he shouldn’t.

“Did you enjoy drinking yourself foolish and indulging in debauchery?” His fingers dance along your inner thigh, hooking around the hem of your underwear. “Was it a fun celebration?”

You lower your arm to glare halfheartedly at him. “Someone sounds jealous.”

“More so disappointed, mon chou chou,” he coos, sugary, sickeningly sweet. “Someone could have taken advantage of you. Someone could have tainted you with magic.” His lip curls up into a nasty sneer. It lingers for a moment before fading into something calm. He gazes at you, oddly tender. “That didn’t happen, though, yes?”

You shake your head and flinch when he drags your panties down. Dewy strings of your slick come away with it, and you shudder at your newfound nudity. He hums approvingly and drags his finger through the wet patch staining your panties. Driven by libertine compulsion, he stretches viscous strands of your essence between two fingers.

Your eyes find his deceitful greens once more. Silence sparks between the both of you, quickly broken by your exhalation. Rollo kneels before you, taking in the sight of you as your face wavers through the stages of consideration. Upon arriving at your conclusion, you sit up slightly and shuck your dress over your head. And then you’re lying back, shaking your panties from off your ankle, and wrapping your legs around his waist to draw him in closer. 

You grin, coquettish. “Why not search for yourself if you’re so worried, Mr. Student Council President?”

There’s no turning back. Not that he ever would. Not when the goat’s given him the signal. The blade doesn’t fall, but he does.

And this is better than dreams and erotica. This is real.

He surges forward to fit his lips against yours. Sloppy and inexperienced, he molds himself to your body. You tug him against you, your hands working to undress him. Clothes and shoes are cast aside between open-mouthed kisses, torn off half-buttoned and ripped away from soles. You breathe him in, gasping into his mouth. Translucent strings of saliva connect your mouths when you part, soon broken when you lean in for a chaste peck.

“You’re okay,” he says, the words practically bleeding onto your own tongue with how close he is. “Still as pure as the day I first met you.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“The best thing.”

His third and fourth fingers prod at the depths of your pussy, pressing inwards. Shallow at first. He watches your face unblinkingly, burning every pleasured contortion into his brain, and slides his thumb along your clit. Your breathing staggers, coming in quick huffs, and you grab at the bedsheets to steady yourself. Rollo works you open on those fingers, curling and scissoring in equal measure. The slick squelches join in the salacious symphony you’re currently producing. Every sigh and groan come together in perfect harmony. You’re a heavenly harp, and he’s plucking your strings like an expert musician.

“Tonight is unforgivable,” he adds, and you blink through blissful tears to view him. “Folly is the worst distraction.”

“Then be stupid with me,” you joke, running your hands over his shoulders. He’s so cold. “Warm yourself with me.”

And he will because he’s always wanted to. He’s desired it. Craved it. Coveted it. Thought of nothing else for days and days, each delusion so cyclical it often felt tangible.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, sliding his other hand up your hip and towards your rib. He traces the path of where it lies beneath layers of flesh before pressing down to feel it. “So beautiful…”

Your hand glides into his, fingers twining like silken thread around a spool. A lopsided smile lifts your lips, and you preen under him. “Yeah? Am I really?”

“I wouldn’t lie about the obvious…” Your walls hug his fingers tighter then, and a shiver electrifies your nerves. He hums again, quite pleased. “Oh, did you like that?”

“I did. Very much.”

Lashes fluttering against your cheekbones, your head thrown back in ecstasy ever-mounting, you render him ensorcelled. Like a prized Renaissance nude, a goat laid to sacrifice in the crow’s nest, you are beatific. Divinely so.

“Allow me to reiterate then.” He hastens his pace, pumping his fingers relentlessly. You tamp down a shameless moan. “You’re exquisitely beddable. A work of art. Enchanting. Une belle femme.”

You’re nearing the edge—very gradually, but not quite—and so it’s devastating when he slips his fingers out, each one thoroughly coated in you. They shimmer in the dim light, reminding you of where they had previously been.

“Put it back in,” you beg with wide, glossy eyes. “C’mon… Please don’t stop now. Was so close. So close and—”

Your complaints are curbed when you follow his hand as it moves to wrap around his half-hard cock. He strokes himself thrice, using your slick as lube, until his cock is curving up against his stomach. You stare at him; he stares right back.

And then you realize he intends to go all the way.

“Wait, Rol…lo… S’not my safe day,” you say, shifting away. Whether impatiently or anxiously, he can’t tell, but he can certainly guess. Your world spins once, a dizzying blur, before it promptly clears. In the very center of your vision, as he’s always been, Rollo remains. “S’not safe…”

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with levity. “I know.”

He’s kept track, dutiful like always.

You attempt to crawl out from under him, but he stops you. Your stomach churns.

“I’ll pull out in time,” he promises, rubbing soothing circles into your plush hips.

Even with the alcohol still buzzing through your system, you aren’t convinced. “N-No, really, we should stop here…”

“You’ll feel so good. Come now, aren’t we nearly there already?”

Rollo lifts your legs onto his shoulders. You squirm with more determination this time, but his fingers dig into your thighs. With a startled squeak, you sink into the mattress, cowed into submission.

“We… We can’t.”

“Why not?” The smooth, soft head of his cock prods curiously at your pussy.

You chew your lip, admitting in a meek tone, “I… I could get p-pregnant…”

“Pregnant,” he parrots, tasting the word as if it’s a delicacy he has yet to sample. His cock twitches. “Pregnant…”

“So… So that’s why…”

“Do you not want children?”

“I… Well… Now is kinda…”

He presses onwards, sinking in slowly. Your breath hitches; your heart stumbles. The intrusion is not entirely unwanted, for your slick, snug walls cling to his shape, and you almost give in to bodily inclination. But it doesn’t feel right. You’re scared. No matter how naturally your body reacts, you don’t want this.

“Rollo, wait—”

“It would be a wonderful thing—to see you rounded with my children.” Rollo props himself on either side of you, his body pinned to yours in sinful, sweaty connection. He exhales a deep breath, restraining himself as he pushes deeper. Patience is a virtue, after all. Your expression tightens with discomfort, and so he peppers your face with placatory kisses. “To see you grow in and—mmh—out of the most flattering maternity wear. To behold every change that blesses this beautiful body of yours… To see you swell with my love, filthy as it may be. Ah, but pregnancy is just as messy… Nevertheless, it shall be a special bond for us—a sacred vow, if you will. We are connected here—” he punctuates this point by slotting the rest of his length inside, and your legs involuntarily close around him to keep him there— “and soon here when life develops within.”

One hand splays across your stomach to pat it with fondness. You choke on your helpless whimper when he rocks his hips once, experimenting with the movement. It’s awkward, but it reminds you that he’s inside. So close to your womb that in just a few more thrusts he might—

“No… No, please… Rollo, you have to—oh—have to pull out. Please pull out. Don’t wanna get pregnant…”

“Oh, but you would be so beautiful.” He breathes you in, savoring sex and floral fragrance. “If I’m allowed one miracle—just one for all the anguish I’ve endured—let it be this.”

You know not of what anguish he speaks, for he’s never verbalized it, but even so it can’t possibly be so agonizing that it would warrant such invasion.

The vise-like hold your velvety walls have on his cock is deliciously addictive. He groans while he ruts into you, his eyelids fluttering. He could be animalistic and cruel in his movements—ravish you as if the world is faced with annihilation and this is his final hour—but instead he settles for exploratory leisure. His hand fits into yours and he squeezes it gently. A feeble protest builds in your throat and so he swallows it with a hungry kiss, his mouth molding against yours.

Your nails dig into his shoulders when he draws back and slides in again, filling you deeper than before. You breathe between kisses, panting and licking into his mouth in even intervals. He does much the same, anchored to you in a way that is both temporary and yet so permanent.

The world narrows down to this single sliver of space, enclosed in a canopy. And in it, laid bare and fertile, the goat is sacrificed to the crow. Death cannot reach either one here. There is only the promise of new life, thrust upon the goat all at once.

You don’t have the willpower to object, for you’ve already found yourself entrapped, so instead you cry. Tears track down your cheeks; your mascara runs with it. Ruined. So, too, is your pitch-black lipstick, smeared along the edges of your lips and printed onto Rollo’s porcelain skin.

Rollo’s hips stutter to a halt and he holds you against him when he spills thick and hot inside. Nothing is wasted; it’s all emptied deep within. If you’re lucky, it won’t take. But if some mischievous fertility goddess has cursed you, you’ll wake nauseous in the coming weeks.

If you have anything worth praying for, it’s the former.

The both of you are panting in the aftermath, but only one is coming down from his glorious high. You remain unsatisfied, your peak not yet breached. Rollo rolls his hips once more for good measure before easing out. You crumple into the wrinkled sheets, frigid and still as a statue. Carved empty and hollow, yet stuffed with sin.

The crow has come. Though this time the gift of tragedy is something between boon and curse.

— — —

The curtains are drawn to let in sunlight. It filters in through frosted glass, each pane stamped with snow, and it blinds you the moment you try to open your eyes. You twist and turn in bed, feeling heavy with hangover. A splitting ache cracks your head in half, and you groan loudly.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you hiss, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. “This sucks…”

You force yourself to wake after two more minutes of rolling around. Groaning once more, you sit up in bed. The canopy has been tied back in place, and when you glance sidelong at Rollo’s desk you notice something. A glass of water and a plate are waiting for you, seeming more enticing by the second. You throw the covers off, realize you’re nude seconds later, and promptly snatch them back. They’re wrapped around you like a comforting cloak. You stagger out of bed to check the contents. Two croissants, a single orange, a dollop of strawberry marmalade, and two tablets are arranged on the plate.

Hangover medicine, you realize, lifting one up to scrutinize it.

You peer around the room. It’s empty. And then you see the clock. It’s a little past noon.

“Oh,” you mumble, lowering into the chair. You clutch the blanket closer. “Rollo must be in class.”

Amidst the piercing migraine, which you quickly resolve by throwing your head back to swallow both tablets in a single gulp of water, two things occur to you. You’re in Rollo’s room. Naked. In Rollo’s room. Surely you must have spent the night after you returned from the party. Why are you naked?

But more importantly…

“Shit! My exam!” The excitement doesn’t help your current state, and you slouch in your seat, even more exhausted than before. “I completely missed it… Rollo’s gonna kill me.”

You scrub the sleep from your eyes and reach for a croissant, content with giving up. You don’t want to endure the walk of shame from Rollo’s room to yours. If anyone were to catch you, they’d certainly be left wondering.

As you nibble on the croissant, admiring the way Rollo’s arranged the contents of his room, you spot the edge of something beneath the plate. Perplexed, you push it aside to reveal a note. Penned in Rollo’s effortlessly pretty script, it reads:

I’ll forgive your transgression just this once if you’ll forgive mine. For now, get some rest. I’ve left breakfast here. Stay for however long you’d like.

You scowl at his attempt of ‘breakfast,’ and your stomach rumbles in dissatisfaction.

“Right?” you say to your stomach, clicking your tongue. “If anything, this is hardly a snack.”

But you’re grateful for his efforts. He cares. He always has. From the very first day you found yourself in this world, he cared.

While you peel the orange, pondering foggy recollections of last night, you begin to realize just how sticky you feel. As if someone’s slobbered all over you and left it to dry. The feeling persists between your thighs.

You pause momentarily, overcome with an uncanny sense of panic as you piece the puzzle together. The still-forming picture does not look good.

“Shit…” you whisper, haunted with a fragmented timeline. “What the hell did we do last night?”

You know. The deep, dark part of your brain knows, but you don’t want to confront it. Because Rollo wouldn’t, right? He couldn’t. He’s always done what’s best for you, so he wouldn’t.

Right?

[astonmartinii]

love love love these social media aus. i am obsessed. would love to see a soft launch with carlos maybe of him showing her spain and his home? carlos just screams old money european vibes and i love it

old money | carlos sainz social media au

pairing: carlos sainz x reader a class in soft launching 101

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 301,671 others

carlossainz55: some much needed time at home

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username WHOMST?

landonorris so i see my invite was lost in the mail?

carlossainz55 i thought you were tired of third-wheeling?

landonorris touche

username was deluding myself that it was maybe his sister but the third-wheeling comment just slapped me in the face

charles_leclerc ahhhh my favourite sainz

carlossainz55 thanks mate you're my favourite leclerc too charles_leclerc i meant the dog mate arthurleclerc that's not what you said to me at imola sainz

yourusername

liked by carlossainzz5, yourbff1 and 21,761 others

yourusername: let's go explorin'

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username i'd eat her last when we eat the rich

username what i'd do to be her friend? assistant at least?

username i saw her in madrid the other day and omg she's even more graceful in person

username her posture is insane i need it bad

username while she looks great and you're all right - are we ignoring that a MAN is driving the car?

username i am ignoring it because i don't want to think about it username she can't be the coolest person in the world and be in a relationship it's not fair

carlossainz55

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 359,561 others

carlossainz55: blood is thicker than water

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username my favourite pastime is watching the old money aesthetic overtake carlos' entire being as soon as he sets foot back in spain

landonorris oh he's getting braver

carlossainz55 you gonna be bitter under all my posts cabron? landonorris until i'm wifed again, yes.

username so like why is y/n here?

username is that defo her? username i was referring to her liking the post but now you say it, the girl on the horse does look suspiciously similar

charles_leclerc mommas boy

carlossainz55 didn't know it was a crime to love my mum

username so yall be yelling about y/n but not telling us who she is and why she matters

username y/n y/ln is a spanish socialite whose family own a lot of the high end restaurants in madrid but she's most known for her poetry and style username so do we hate or love her? username i like her, and a lot of people do, just usual dislike for being grossly rich but from what i've seen she's pretty down to earth

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 29,871 others

yourusername: keeping the operation smooth

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username THIS ISN'T FUNNY

username stop playing with us please

username i feel like this is all the confirmation we'll get

username y'all i know he's an f1 driver and everything but we all know he's PUNCHING

username i need her haircare routine STAT

f1wagsupdates

liked by username, username and 1,249 others

f1wagsupdates: it's all but confirmed!! after a pretty solid soft launch from both carlos and his new lover y/n y/ln, her latest post was captioned "keeping the operation smooth", playing on carlos' iconic theme song. our sources state that the driver and socialite poet have been together for as long as six months but after other relationships and relative platforms, both were determined to take it slow. what do you think?

view all comments

username they're very cute and i can't wait to see her paddock looks

username bestie i fear you'll be waiting a while she's notoriously private when it comes to event appearances - really only going out for her family or her own events

username they're annoyingly sexy like save some for the rest of us

username this soft launch feels like its been going for about seven years

username f1 drivers defo have a type

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 720,778 others

tagged: yourusername

carlossainz55: mi hermosa

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username AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

yourusername you live in my heart

carlossainz55 and i never want to leave landonorris free real estate yourusername my favourite third-wheel carlossainz55 stay out of grown people's business landito

username they're so lana del ray coded

yourusername

liked by scuderiaferrari, carlossainz55 and 71,230 others

tagged: carlossainz55

yourusername: life with you feels like poetry in motion

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username NOOOOOOO WE LOST HER

username but does this mean new poetry ??

carlossainz55 you make me crazy baby

yourusername crazy in love

username when will it happen to me?

landonorris finally i can interact without having a year long argument with carlos

lando.jpeg

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 301,285 others

lando.jpeg: a study in third wheeling, a six month project by yours truly

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username i'm obsessed with this couple actually

carlossainz55 as much as you are annoying landito, thank you for these ❤️

yourusername we love you landito landonorris so i can use the boat yourusername i don't love anyone that much carlossainz55 eh? yourusername other than you obviously

username lando just starts domestics in these comments and i love that for him

note: sorry this one is a bit short, but i hope you enjoyed anyway!!

[despacito-uwu16]

The Falling Action

Kenji Sato x Journalist! Reader

Enemies To Lovers | Foced Proximity | Pining

A/N: Thus chapter is a tad angsty. Also, the plot line from the film slightly changed, so in this case his dad doesn’t make an appearance in this series”.

<- prev next ->

That night, you were talking false prophets and profits they make in the margins of poetry sonnets. You never read up on it, shame could've learned something.

Us by Gracie Abrams ft Taylor Swift

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

You were at the library studying for your journalism exam next week. With the editor finally taking you seriously and letting you cover more games, and finals coming up, you were stressed out.

While reviewing your notes, you felt the table slightly shake, along with the sound of something slammed onto the table. You look up to see an angry Kenji Sato looking down at you. You took your headphones off and looked at him up and down.

“Can I help you”? You deadpanned.

“What the fuck is this”? He point at the paper that he slammed on the table.

“Kenji Sato, the next irrelevance in baseball”

“My truth”?

“It’s just one game Y/N, ONE. FUCKING. GAME”! He slams his fist on the table, unfazing you.

“So? I report what I see”.

“Do you realize what this does to my career? My status on the team is on the line, my reputation, is about to be in shambles. Nobody is gonna sign me because of you”! Kenji raised his voice to the point where he was grabbing the attention of everyone around the two of you.

“If you don’t like what you see, you should try harder next time”. you retorted.

He lets out a laugh. “You know, I don’t even know why I came here in the first place. Considering the person who wrote this knows how to sleep her way through a sports team”.

You stood up angrily, slamming your hands onto the table.

“I work to get what I want. Between the two of us, I don’t sleep with other people just to increase a body count”.

“At least I have natural talent”

“At least I don’t talk shit about another girl to their roommate while she watches”.

Ken stood there in silence. Everyone was staring at the two of you. A couple of bystanders were whispering to each other and side eyeing you.

“Now if you excuse me, some of us are trying to survive finals week”. You sat back down and put your headphones back on, turning up the volume of your music.

Kenji growled, snatching the paper off the table and walking away. But then he turns back to you.

“I’ll show you. Just wait and see. I’ll become the greatest living player! Then we’ll see who the irrelevant one is”.

“Mhm, keep telling yourself that”.

~

Your faced turned white as a ghost as you come face to face with a baby kaiju. You wanted to run, but your feet were glued to the floor, and your knees locked itself.

“Y/N? I can explain”. You hear Kenji say.

He tried to calm you down, but you tuned him out and you still stood there in fear while the Kaiju chirps happily at you.

“W-W-Why is there a kaiju in your basement”? You whisper.

The Kaiju approaches you slowly, curious about the tiny person in front of her.

“Please don’t eat me”. You cried.

“It’s okay, she’s harmless”. He reassures you.

You slowly approach the kaiju, hesitant to touch her. She crouched down to your level, consenting for you to pat her head. You gently pat her head, making her chirp. You and Kenji smile as she clapped and jumped happily.

~

“Why did you go down to the basement when I told you not to”? He interrogated you while you sipped on your coffee.

“The more important question here is why are you keeping a kaiju in your basement”? You gestured to the baby pink lizard that’s now sleeping in the containment tube. Kenji sighs, running his hands through his hair. You slowly turn to him, the realization hitting you.

“Holy shit”.

Kenji didn’t look at you.

“HOLY SHIT”

“Theres a lot more to it than you think. But promise me you won’t tell anybody about this”. He pleaded.

You sat up straight. You took your phone out of your pocket and you shut it off right in front of him. You then put it down on the table.

“You have my word”.

He goes on to explain what’s been going on the past few months. He tells you about taking his father’s place as Ultraman, which explains the excess damage in the city. He also tells you how he rescued the baby kaiju from the KDF and how he’s been trying to raise her alone.

“So the reason why you’ve been off your game lately is because you were taking care of the baby”? You ask.

“Yeah. It’s part of being Ultraman I guess”. He shrugged.

“That explains a lot of things”. The room fell silent for a moment before Kenji spoke up.

“You’re not going to add this to your article are you”? He worries.

“Ken, I’m not that inhumane. I promise you, I won’t tell anyone”. You said.

“Thank you”. Kenji sighs in relief.

“Does she have a name”?

“No, her name is just baby”.

“You’ve been taking care of a baby kaiju for two months, and you haven’t thought about giving her a name”?

“Well, I don’t see you giving me ideas”.

You sigh, you pinched the bridge of your nose and shook your head.

“I really am trying my best. With baseball, with raising “baby”, with everything. I want people to know that I want to be the best player and the best hero, but it’s hard when you really can’t tell anyone. It just feels so”…

“Isolating”?

“Yeah, also, the KDF is on my ass and well, my dad isn’t really around, so”..

You look at him with pity. Kenji was looking down at the ground, not knowing how to handle anything anymore. You scoot next to him and take his hand.

“Y’know, you don’t have to do this alone. If you need help, then I can step in. As much as I like seeing you suffer, I don’t want you to suffer.”

Kenji’s eyes widened. “Wow, you actually do care”. He said in disbelief. You roll your eyes. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll look over her”.

“You sure, I mean she’s kind of”-

“Good night Kenji”. You say, picking up a magazine and putting your legs on the table.

Kenji stared at you in bewilderment. He feared the day that you would find out and expose him in the tabloids. But to his surprise, you were more accepting, more human. He left the basement feeling much calmer, knowing that you’re ready to show up for him.

~

For the past 3 weeks, you kept your promises and helped Kenji take care of the baby kaiju (that you both named Emi) while he juggles his baseball career and his Ultraman duties.

While he caught up on sleep, you fed Emi her late night snacks and read her bed time stories.

While he was out, you cooked him healthy meals and prepare some heating packs incase he comes home with sore muscles. Everytime Kenji comes home in the evening, he would always look forward to the food that’s on the table. Whenever you weren’t busy with your job, he would ask you to have dinner with him. During those times, you guys would have a casual conversation. No forced interviews, no bickering or throwing insults. When it came to the interviews, he started to become more vulnerable. The exchange didn’t feel forced, and he became more genuine with you. What felt like a hundred year feud came to a close, and the two of you started to become friends.

You’ve noticed a huge change in Ken. He became a leader for his team, and a better hero for the city. Whenever the two of you bond, he showed off his softer side, a side you’ve grown to love.

Ken was very grateful for you. Although he hasn’t showed it, he’s glad to have you around. It made him smile whenever he sees you and Emi bonding. There was something about you that made his heart beat skip a beat. The way you would laugh at his attempts to make an actual joke during the interview session. Or the way you would passionately talking about the games you’ve been to when you went abroad.

The two of you know that your time with Ken is short lived. But deep down, Ken doesn’t know what he would do when you leave.

~

Kenji walked into the basement to find you sitting couch typing away on your laptop while looking after a sleeping Emi. It warmed Kenji’s heart that you were so accepting of Emi and everything else that has been going on.

You look up from your laptop and smile. “I’ve finished the revisions. Wanna take a look”? You give him your laptop. Kenji takes it from you and skims it.

“Inside Ken Sato’s Space”

Kenji skims each paragraph while quickly scrolling down, stopping at the last paragraph.

“What we all thought was an arrogant athlete, turns out to be a guy with a misunderstood, soft heart. Ken Sato has grown up, not only as an athlete, but as a human being. His newfound maturity has led to the giants to win after win. His leadership and confidence has not only impacted everyone on and off the field, but also in himself. His attitude continues to impact the Giants as they head to the championship game”.

“It’s perfect”. He smiled, handing your laptop back.

You scroll to the top of the page and hovered over the post now button.

“And posted”! You said as you closed your laptop. Kenji looks at you with so much admiration.

“What, you think it’s too cheesy”? You tease. Kenji laughs.

“No, no. I just… I never got to say thank you. For helping me with Emi, and for not taking a chance on me”.

“You don’t have to thank me. Emi is the sweetest”. You say as you filed your documents into a folder.

“Anyways, I was just thinking, I should take you out for dinner. As a thank you for tolerating for the past 2 months”.

“As much as I love being treated to a 5 star michelin restaurant, I think I know a better way to celebrate”.

~

You flipped the grilled cheese on the pan and turned off the stove. But before you could put it on the plate, Kenji takes it from the pan and takes a bite.

“Ah hot”! He yelps. You laughed at him as he throws the grilled cheese onto the porcelain plate.

“You really don’t learn from your mistakes”. You laugh.

“Hey, I’m just hungry”. He pouts.

You notice the crumbs at the corner of Kenji’s mouth and gently brushes it off. Kenji leans into your touch as he stares into your (e/c) eyes. Your breath hitched as his face inches closer to you. Your heart beats faster, waiting for him to make a move. But before you both could do anything, his watch started beeping. He looks down to see live camera footage of Emi, now awake from her nap.

“I should go check on her”. He says.

“I’ll wash the dishes”. You said, starting to grab the pan and knife from the stove.

~

You were putting the clean dishes onto the dish rack when you hear your phone ringing in the living room. You walked up to grab it, and when you turned it over, the adrenaline rushes through your body when you realize your boss was calling.

“Hi Daryl”. You immediately answer

“Y/N, have you checked your article? Your boss asks.

“Why, is there something wrong with it”? You ask.

“Just look at it”. Daryl demanded.

You looked at the website where your article was published, and your eyes widened.

900 K likes; 750 comments

“It hasn’t been 24 hours”.

“Well, believe it. Cause you did that Y/N. The company has been getting a lot of new subscribers for the sports page. Which leads me to another thing, my supervisor loves your work so much, that they want you to work a 2 year residency at the Norwegian office.

“Wait, Norway”?

“Yes, Y/N. Consider it a promotion. You definitely deserve it”. Daryl says.

You almost jumped for joy. It’s always been your dream to work in Norway. That’s where all of the best soccer and volleyball teams are. You managed to contain yourself before you freak out the whole house.

“You’re expected to start next month, until then, keep up the good work”. He says.

“Thank you, I promise I won’t let you down”. You say before Daryl hangs up.

You began to jump up and down and squealed with excitement. You’re finally getting the life you wanted, and there was nothing holding you back.

“Who was that”? You turn to see Kenji walking out of the elevator.

“That was my boss, Daryl”.

“Was there something wrong with the article”? Kenji asks.

“No, in fact, look how much reception it got”! You showed him the article on your phone. His eyes widened with the

“Wow, that is a lot of likes”. His eyes widened.

“I know, and it’s been only five hours”! You smiled ear to ear. “And the best part is, I’m offered a 2 year residency in Norway”!

“So you’re leaving again”?

“Well, yeah”.

Kenji’s smile faded. He was so used to having you here, but now you’re leaving again. To him, it felt like college all over again.

“Kenji”? He looks up at you.

“Are you okay”?

Kenji gives you a small smile. He puts his hand on your shoulder. “I’m happy for you, Y/N”.

You smiled back at him. “Thank you, Kenji”.

What you thought was a happy moment turned cold and distant during your final week with Kenji.

He would go out at night, and wouldn’t come back until early morning, blaming it on “ultraman duty”.

Whenever you tried to talk to him, he would either give you a short response or just not respond at all. And every time you walk in a room, Kenji would just leave.

One day, you were at the dining table, finalizing paperwork for Milan while eating some maple & brown sugar oatmeal. Kenji walked in the kitchen, not realizing you were there.

“Kenji”?

He didn’t look at you as he walked up to the fridge.

“I made some oatmeal. Do you want some”?

He grabbed his energy drink from the fridge and walked out of the kitchen. You got up and walked after him. You caught up with him, and blocked his path.

“Okay, what is going on with you? You’ve been straight up ignoring me for the last few days. What’s going on with you”?

“Nothing, Y/N”. Kenji begins to walk away. But you push him back.

“Kenji, please. Whatever I did wrong, please, just tell me”.

“What’s bothering me is that you’re leaving, again”.

“What are you talking about”?

“You have everything you wanted. You got everything right here. You don’t need Norway to prove a point”.

“This is MY career, Kenji. My life. I’ve built my whole life on my work, and I’m not letting you get in my way”.

“So I’m just another stepping stone for you huh”? He scoffs. “If only your college self could see you now”. He says with sarcasm.

Your eyes widened. “Wow, and here I thought you finally grew up”. You folded your arms”. “You’re so shallow”.

“And you’re just a pain in my ass”. Kenji retorts.

There was silence between the two of you. What you thought was a progressing friendship was now destroyed, pushing you both back to square one.

“This was a mistake. You should’ve left when you got the chance”. Kenji mutters

“And then what? If I did leave, were you going to blackmail me again”?

He looks up at you, meeting your (eye color) eyes. You stared him down with anger and disgust.

“For all I care, you can expose me whenever the fuck you want. I don’t care what people think of me, and I’m not scared of you”.

He knew he shouldn’t have put you up to this. That this whole interview process was a mistake. He hurt you and himself, and all he could do now is deal with the collateral damage.

“I want you out of here by tomorrow morning”.

“I’ll do you one better, I’ll leave right now”. You walk past him and entered the guest room. Kenji flinched at the sound of the door slamming shut.

~

You put the last suitcase in the trunk and closed the trunk door. Before you went in your car, you stared at the front door, hoping that Ken would apologize and ask you to come back in. But you shrug the expectation off and drove off.

As you drove into the city, you start to tear up. The interview was merely an assignment, so why is this affecting you so much?

“You don’t need Norway to prove a point”.

You hated Ken, you hated the way he roped you into this mess, how he played with your feelings again. But your heart screamed, “GO BACK”, while your head told you to press the gas pedal harder.

~

Kenji enters the basement where the baby kaiju was waiting for the both of you. She chirps with glee when she sees Kenji, and then she looks around for you.

“She’s not coming back”. He sighs, sitting down on the steps next to the baby’s containment unit. Her smile fades. She lets out a little whimper.

“I’m sorry Emi. I scared her off, and I don’t know how to fix this”. Kenji sat next to Emi and put his head in his arms. She settles down next to him in hopes of comforting her father. He leaned onto Emi, resting his head on her arm. It made him feel a little better, but the pain ran deeper in his heart. He had so many opportunities to tell you how he felt about you, but now you slipped through his fingers again.

“Nice going Ken”.

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Likes, Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated!!

A/N: By the time this gets posted, I’ll be on my way to Japan (ultradaddy here i come 🤭). See you all in the finale tomorrow :)

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[evilminji]

You know how in Naruto, Sealing is a Finicky Art?

It's like computer coding, calligraphy, and symbolism had a super-powered/reality bending baby. You gotta think in VERY ADHD twirls and swirls too be any good at it. Which is why the Uzumaki rocked it so hard. But I digress.

Is Complexe AF.

Bends Reality and is EASY to fuck up.

Wanna bet? The BEST way to learn/use it? Is to copy already functioning examples? But Oh! How do you KNOW they are functioning? Safe? Well OBVIOUSLY, your Skilled At Seals teacher looks at it first! THEN gives it too you!

Using random seals you find in the dirt is how you get splattered across three different countryside in peices, after all. Possibly take out a nearly Town or two while your at it. No One Is THAT Dumb... RIGHT?

Enter Stage Right o/~☆ Humanity, Everybody! *polite, if strained, golf clapping*

They ABSOLUTELY Are!

Especially Ninja!

Ninja who, after fuckin MURDERING A WHOLE ASS VILLAGE OF SEALING MASTERS, decided to pick through the rubble! Because THAT is gonna work out GREAT! After all... it's not like you just KILLED the fuckers who could tell you what IS and IS NOT functional!

Was that once the "hazardous advanced class' sealing failures" bin? Or was it the "super awesome candy and rainbows" stash!? You don't know. NO ONE DOES NOW. You fuckin KILLED THE PEOPLE WHO DID.

They had their own REGIONAL Sealing Script.

You know, the one they taught to THEIR STUDENTS. Not outsiders. The students you KILLED, you absolute fuck nuggets. But hey! The threat of the Super Scary Sealing Masters is no more! Good job. You've successfully burned down the library. It can't hurt you ever again.

But NOW? You have piles upon piles of GIBBERISH.

You can only VAGUELY tell the novice seals from the master's. And even then? Do you have any idea what most of them DO? Nope. And after a certain point in training? The shaky, uncertain hand writing becomes smooth enough, that it all blends together in "Seals".

Now... what is the SMART thing to do?

Curse your hubris and the atrocities your fear allowed you to commit, obviously. But BEYOND that, Don't Touch Them. But we're Ninja. So WE are all suicidal idiots. The less smart but still Reasonably Precautionary thing to do? Study the amateur Seals. Learn Sealing from other masters.

Crack the Regional Script and slowly, painstakingly, work through each seal as we sort out what is and isn't safe. What can be salvaged. What can be used and how.

A process that will likely take years if not decades.

But of course, that's not GOOD ENOUGH for certain grabby handed, power hungry, short sighted, fuck weasels! No, no. It much EASIER to just throw human life into the blender until profit pops out! Completely IGNORING, of course, that SOME of these?

Could very well be the "Too Dangerous To Ever Use/Will Destroy Us All/Take Them All With Us" type of Seals that Kage usually LOCK UP. The kind you CAN'T destroy once you've made them, because the fall out would be WORSE. And?

Even if you are a murderous, middle management, go nowhere in your life, BASTARD of a ninja? Sometimes you can look down at the massive, intricately detailed, killer off nation's before you. Something that was WRAPPED in locks upon locks upon chains upon seals. And KNOW in your selfish, survival at all costs little heart... You DO NOT want anyone to fuck with this.

You CAN NOT let anyone fuck with this.

NO ONE can be allowed to touch it.

Not for ANYTHING.

You may fear S Class Kage and Missing Nin and what all else they may do to you. But THIS? Your eyes can't even properly FOCUS on it. It's like a tunnel that's lined with poetry, stretching all the way to the Earth's core. It's perfectly flat. It moves, a gentle rotation. But is that just your eyes, tricking you?

So much ink, it swallows the scroll, and this is when it's COMPRESSED.

How many nations?

How many NATIONS must this monstrosity span, when free?

It must have taken a Master decades, if not their entire life, to complete. Possibly a family, several generations. But... but gods it is a work of MADNESS. No wonder it was sealed. It speak, you... you THINK... of Death...

Of it's KING.

Something BEYOND the Shinigami. BEYOND Death and the Purelands.

Who the FUCK would try to summon something beyond GODS? Did they think they could control it? Chain it like the bijuu? You're so cold inside. Because you KNOW. You fucking KNOW, the ambitions and arrogance of those above you.

They'll think they can.

They won't listen.

You... you have to take this and RUN. You stand no chance. But no chance is better then oblivion. Anything is better then standing by and watching it happen.

You obviously don't make it. You never expected too. But at least... at least you won't have to watch whatever THAT is... arrive... fuck...

At least you TRIED.

And? Because leaf Ninja, specifically certain teams, have the MOST Shit luck imaginable? They arrive, having crossed paths with several other teams, on the way back home (yay! Warm food and real beds!) Just in time to see a desperate looking ninja from one of the small villages get fuckin pincushioned. Drop what is VERY clearly an Uzushio Scroll of considerable size and SEVERE SSS+ DO Not EVER Touch Grade Type Markings, and then some joining from that same village go to grab it.

Notice them.

You know... the multiple LEAF NINJA. Who TOO THIS DAY, wear the UZU swirl on their uniforms as a mourning tribute to the DEAR AND PRECIOUS ALLIES they could not save. The Uzushio Allies. Those ones. The ones that were, in fact, from Uzushio.

LIKE THE SCROLL YOU ARE HOLDING.

By the WAY! How DID you get that Scroll? Doesn't seem like something our dear friends would just HAND over, now does it? You didn't happen to LOOT THEIR FUCKIN GRAVES did you? Cause we sure would be MAD about that!

:)

Real Mad.

Dude obviously panics. Because that? That is a VERY pissed off bunch of Ninja, many in the bingo book, one of whom is Very Clearly throwing off BIJUU CHAKRA. And just said "my family's" Ha ha... Oh Shit that's an Uzumaki.

So he decides to USE THE SEAL.

What does it do?

He doesn't know! But it's probably SOMETHING big and impressive, right?

Yes. :) Yes it Does.

*Crack*

The SKY cracks. Like a pane of glass, struck by a hammer. Spiderwebbing as far as the eye can see above them, all from one central point, directly above the seal. The cracks there are concentrated. A point of impact. And through the cracks... something GREEN shines.

Brighter then the daylight around it, yet darker in color then the blue of the sky. Lazily whisping out like escaping mist. Time seems slow as their eyes all whip up wards. Even with senses beyond the normal human base, it is... inconceivable. SOMETHING winds back. They can not see it.

But they can feel it.

Like changing pressure as a storm rolls in.

*Crack!*

Green overtakes the blue. The sky a Kaleidescape of shards, held together by stubbornness alone. Reflecting a calm day that seems IMPOSSIBLE in the face of what's occurring. There should be wind. Great pressure changes in the face of so much FORCE, but the trees are eerily still.. utterly silent..

Nothing dares bring attention to itself.

Some distant part of their minds try to gather the thought that... that it could be an illusion. They... they should check. But they can FEEL it. Like a weight draped gently but without mercy upon their shoulders. It did not slam. But... but they can not move. Can barely breathe. It is beyond killing intent.

It is simply...

DEATH.

*CRASH!*

At last, the sky gives way. A fist, the size of towers punching through. It... it is almost elegant. A ring, almost in the shinigami's visage, wraps itself in a howling and snarled menace, around a great shining finger. A glove protects almost delicate looking, claw tipped fingers. The fist pulls back. Shard of sky falling, Floating, suspended in their moment of destruction, a glittering frame for the gapping wound that has overtaken everything.

Death...

Death has Green Eyes.

A crown of ice and starlight, pulled straight from the coldest north, hair that drifts like the drowned. His skin is that of a corpse. His breath a coldness that seems to suck all warmth from the world. There is no rage, no great irritation, his face merely twisted in slight annoyance. Mild displeasure.

And yet it feels like their greatest sin.

It BURNS.

They are ants. Less then ants. He... He LOOMS so TALL. The Green BURNS into their eyes, into their veins, chokes their lungs. The silence stretches. Those great eyes, the eyes of a GOD, move from them. To the man with the Seal.

He dies instantly.

Shit.

They... they need to... to...

Naruto wanders over and picks up the scroll, completely ignore the Giant Sky God Of Death and how all his friends are frozen in primordial fear. He roughly shakes the dirt off the delicate old relic, then squint at it. Figures he's holding it upside-down. Flipping it, he squints harder. Tilts his head and hums.

"Oh!"

He holds his hand up, turning to look at the terrifying Deity From Beyond Comprehension.

"It's me! I'm the Uzumaki! But, uh, I didn't actually summon you? Our stuff got stolen. Which really sucks!" He looks down again, brings the paper nearly to his nose trying to make out some thing. "Uuuuuh, huh. Got it! Can you get smaller? I don't got any BBQ or anything ON me right now, but Choji's Family makes REALLY good food! We can go out to eat? Ooh ooh! Maybe RAMEN! You like Ramen, right?!"

"Yep, Definitely one of Shouta's."

Rumbles The Actual Fucking King Of Death, shaking the trees and ground under your feet. As you probably stare at your fellow Leaf Nin like WTF.

"Sure, man. Give me a second."

And suddenly? He's leaning forward. Shrinking and twisting in ways that are painful to look at. The sky is... is not healing, so much as UNcracking. Rewinding itself to a pristine state. Until only a large, floating, armored God in black and white floats above you. Glowing.

One that... that is apparently FRIENDS with the Uzumaki Clan.

Because of course he is.

Naruto's introducing his Toads. And teammates. You almost feel bad for Hatake. But like? Better you then me, buddy. THEN? Death? Decides? For some inconceivable reason. "You know what? Im'ma just turn into a human WITH NO CHAKRA NETWORK. Reeeeeally freak out the locals."

And now Leaf is INCHARGE of entertaining A GOD until he decides to leave.

Or (presumably) Else.

And!! Because life loves to kick ninjas IN THE BALLS (for their stupid, STUPID life choices, YOU FUCKERS) it just HAD to be the One God? That can SEE DEAD PEOPLE. Because it's not like ninjas have Death Related Traumas or anything!

*internal ninja screaming*

Feed the guy some BBQ! Stat! Please Akimichi! Save us!

@hdgnj @hypewinter @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

[impactedfates]

are we gonna get argenti hcs anytime soon 😍😍 lmk lil bro

★ A/N: Argenti, my bby, my everything. My husband <33 I have a good few HCs of him so here's a list :>

☆ Genre/Trope: Fluff

★ Format: HeadCannons

☆ Warnings: Slight spoilers for Argentis companion quest

★ Extra: Most are romantic HCs // I love this man smsm // Mainly romantic HCs

Definitely compliments you a ton, like he knows exactly what to say to make you feel good about yourself and how to make you feel loved. However if you do the same back, although he thanks you. Deep down he's a flustered mess.

He's so devoted to Idrila that I feel he's not one to easily be swayed to fall for someone, so when he DOES. You know damn well he's deep in love.

He'll do the classical gentlemanly things like hold open the door for you, pull out a chair for you, kiss your hand. And if you want to be held? He'll do it.

Writes you poetry, and it's the most sickly sweet thing ever, you'd almost want to cringe in embarrassment but at the same time the words written on the page are so cute you likely can't help but find it endearing.

If perhaps you stay on the one planet, and not adventure with him on the 'One and Only' expect at least weekly visits and letters sent to you written in gold ink <33 He wants to show you he's okay and well and wants to check on you as well.

If you do go with him however, then he'll be extremely happy to have the love of his life join him on his search for Idrila - he'll be the one steering the ship, however he is more then happy to have you in the same room as he drives.

We know he's not selfish, how he's willing to risk his life to save just about anyone no matter what, no matter how long he's known them. And every time he comes out safe, he seeks you out to ensure he's safe and sound. (He will NOT allow you to join him in these situations - He's okay with himself getting hurt but will NEVER let you get hurt, aeons forbid)

So gentle and so delicate. Even in arguments which you'll inevitably have. No matter what it is, even if it's about his devotion to Idrila and how he still searches. He'll be so gentle and soft spoken, will never raise his voice at you. He'll always listen to your side and calmly explain his and in the end, the arguments always end on good terms <33

Love languages are so many. Like, I think he shows love in all the 5. As said, he's good at complimenting you and reassuring you (Words of Affirmation)

He's a knight so ofc he'll do things for you, like get you a blanket if you perhaps fell asleep at a desk or make you tea (Acts of Service)

He loves spending time with you, I mean, he holds you to the same regard as he does Idrila - he wants to be with you as much as he can (Quality Time)

Anytime he leaves to do something on a planet, even if you come with. You bet you're gonna have something you eyed with admiration even once in your hands or that you mentioned liking to have (Gift Giving)

He would absolutely love cuddling and holding you. And he's more then happy to kiss you anywhere you want, just say the word. (Physical Touch)

In the end, whichever you enjoy the most/love receiving the most will be the one he does more often if he knows - talking about love languages, I think he enjoys receiving Quality Time and Acts of Service

VERY supportive of your talents, if you like drawing? He's hanging each one on a wall. You like writing? Great! He could use a bed time story, singing? He'll listen to you for as long as he can.

He'll let you style his hair or just run your fingers through it if it calms you down, just try not to tug it if he's steering the ship. He needs to concentrate properly!

You wanna cuddle? You got it! His body is like a human radiator. Is it a hot day? Boom, he's like your own large freezer that you can cuddle. It's a cold day? Human heater, and he's more then happy to help you cool down or heat up.

Sometimes, if he's feeling tired or anything and is just sitting down to rest. He likes staring at you, lovingly and if you catch his eye and smile at him? A e o n s it's like he fell in love all over again. You're able to make his tiredness seemingly go away.

Marriage isn't a thought that comes to him, it's not that he doesn't want to but he wishes to find Idrila first before that. It's a big step in your relationship after all - however if years go on and you two are still happily dating but he still hasn't found the goddess? He might consider marrying you if you wish.

I feel like he paints, is he good? Maybe not, but you'll find a collection of paintings that's just you or you and him that he keeps safe. He will not loose those.

Very happy he came home. I also have his lightcone!! He did nearly 3 million ult rjpgdnwrb (w/o LC. I didn't have it at the time of that dmg)

He is my everything, my bby, I'd do anything for him <;33