#not tagging this otherwise but. yanno.

[essektheylyss]

It is very tiring trying to be like "shadowgast cute and soft, make brain go brrr" while simultaneously feeling still that, even a year and a half later, to a loud portion of the fandom, their relationship through the last ten-ish episodes of the campaign didn't "count" because there was not a (mouth-to-mouth) kiss involved, even though their interactions throughout that last arc were absolutely crucial to Caleb's storyline, and gave the impression of prioritizing each other even while focused on averting an apocalypse.

And in particular, the moments they had at the Blooming Grove were very sweet and spoke of the importance they placed on each other and the grace they were willing to extend to themselves in settling what they both still needed to settle before another step could be taken. But evidently that doesn't actually matter because it didn't result in a traditional domestic relationship (ignoring that, clearly, that isn't even really a possibility regardless of their interest, per the two-shot).

If the feeling had not persisted so insidiously among the fandom, I really would not be so persnickety about it, but it has never felt like that subsided and it is simply rearing its head in a far more noticeable way now that those folks can claim there's actually something to "celebrate" to their standards, as though a relationship cannot possibly be real unless you've watched two people stick their tongues down each other's throats.

Like, do people not realize how exclusionary (and, frankly, pretty invasive) that sounds, or do they simply not give a fuck?

[stamplerfag]

my hyperfixations have died down so much, idk if its the adderall or the general downward trend ive had in creativity, but i haven't been seized by something in a long ass time

[die-tenebris]

re: that last post I reblogged, I'm so curious (lie) when anyone, as a white person¹, has been denied the full experience of personhood EVER. Lmao.

[29daffodils]

Writing Pattern Tag Game

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 posted fics and see if there’s a pattern.

(saw this on the TL, thought i should do it since i probably won't get to do it otherwise lol, so here we go)

1. i'll keep you close to me

Ray Pakorn is a rumour flying on the summer wind.

ship : sand/ray, only friends

2. here i stay, pray

It's a song Ray doesn't know. But it doesn't matter.

ship : sand/ray, only friends

3. secrets i have held in my heart

The sudden flash of want that zips down his spine upon hearing that quietly curls up and sits low in his belly as his eyes fall upon Sand's face, and that is the first time the thought creeps in.

ship : ray/sand, ony friends

note : the actual first line is a direct quote from sand in OFTS ep. 12, so. not counting that.

4. i dreamt of you last night

Amidst the pitter-patter of an unsurprisingly wet London afternoon, a pigeon outside his office window coos.

ship : yohan/moogyeong, the shape of your love (manhwa, park nodeok)

5. take my whole life too

In the aftermath of it all, when Katsuki wakes up in the hospital, groggy with painkillers and various other drugs, he oddly still feels his right arm.

ship : katsuki/izuku, boku no hero academia

6. i'm feelin' heat in december (when you're 'round me)

This is the scene Aoyama walks in on when he is the last one to come out of the showers : The Urawa Reds Football Club is gathered in their locker room and the boys are on cloud nine — they have won the first game of the season and it's a very good start too.

ship : zaizen/aoyama, keppeki danshi! aoyama-kun

7. we'll meet in the spring

Moogyeong is forty-nine, pushing fifty, and is seated alone in a cafe with a cup of coffee that has long gone cold.

ship : yohan/moogyeong, the shape of your love (manhwa, park nodeok)

8. and the world sang along to it falling apart

“Sir, we are here.”

ship : yohan/moogyeong, the shape of your love (manhwa, park nodeok)

9. just me and the stars can get lonely

There is a moon in the sky tonight, round and hanging low, bright like the bottom of a firefly, casting a soft glow on a sleeping town while Yohan sits awake and misses love.

ship : yohan/moogyeong, the shape of your love (manhwa, park nodeok)

10. all my love to give

“I do,” Yohan’s voice echoes within the walls of the packed church.

ship : yohan/moogyeong, the shape of your love (manhwa, park nodeok)

pattern :

huh. okay, i have thought actually, for a long time, that there's some pattern alright but never gave it that much importance. i think it's mostly something that lands the reader right in the middle of the story? or at least like, bait, yanno? i don't like starting with too much descriptive text, that i am aware of. so it's mostly either dialogue or something that hints directly to the story so that the reader won't be bored to death before they even begin reading.

at least that's my usual thought process when i sit down to write. huhhhh.

I'm also very surprised i've written 41 fics till now. that's not a lot, but at some point when it was just 11 fics, i was wondering if i will ever write more. guess i did. this is also your sign to not quit your art!!! keep going!! fighting!!

(p.s. : I'm much happier with my writing now than i was when it was 11 fics, or even 20, or 30.)

tagging ;

@skyfish7 @justfionn @peachym00 @ae-azile @thisautistic @goodbyeapathy8 @fawndlyvenus @semantics-error

(feel free to ignore this!)

(these are also the few people who i know have an ao3 for writing, apologies if you actually don't write and i got confused lol)

[latibvles]

Sort of a public PSA? — on commenting.

This is a thought after, once again, having a conversation and while yes, commenting is important, I feel like there’s also something else we should be saying:

If you can’t compliment a writer without bringing down another, don’t say anything.

And I’m talking about this in specific because this is what I see most often. I’m not going to screenshot this because it’s on other people’s works and I am very lucky to not have received comments like that on AO3 (which is currently the only place that I have published work), but I’ll do an imitation of what this looks like:

“Wow, this is a great story. All those OTHER stories just make the main character SO PERFECT and it’s just sooo unrealistic.”

This isn’t the compliment you think this is.

It’s very backhanded and the comment really could’ve stopped at the first sentence. Or, even better, comment about what you liked about the story you just read and not what you disliked about other people’s stories.

And maybe this is just a me thing, but writers are also readers and readers read comments, too. And reading negative generalizations made about what could be your particular ficwriting niche isn’t the greatest feeling.

Throwing in a read more because this got long.

“But Poet!” I hear you say, “I REALLY don’t like [insert thing here] and this is the FIRST time I’ve seen it very well-written!!”

Okay well for starters, I highly doubt that there’s only one (1) author who writes that thing well. Also, you can SAY that you enjoyed it without putting down other people in that particular genre. It’s not about what you do and don’t like, it’s about uplifting writers verses putting them down. “I usually don’t read ______, but I really enjoyed this!” Is such a kinder way to say it — and it doesn’t include insulting others in a fandom space.

Ultimately, the comment section exists so you can compliment and otherwise give feedback to the writer. It really, really isn’t a place to vent about your experiences with “bad” fanfiction. I haven’t gotten these comments on AO3, but I’ve definitely got them on Wattpad and Instagram. Most of the time it was never because of genuine love for my writing — it was just because they wanted to bring down others who were writing similar work.

We talk about commenting and supporting writers a lot but what should that look like? I can’t speak for everyone but this is what it looks like for me.

Keyboard smashing, screaming, all variants of “HOW DARE YOU!!” are well accepted and definitely make me smile. If you’re worried that something comes across wrong I’ve memorized tone tags — feel free to use them! I use them with all my friends and in comments when I want to ensure my intent comes across correctly.

Essay-long comments (and subsequently 20+ tags of rambling) are also accepted. Seriously. They spark joy. It’s very kind. Thank you for quoting the details and throwing them back at my face.

Criticism is okay when it’s asked for. I’ve got like … a definitive group people I’m comfortable with reading my work and giving feedback on it when I’m unsure of my own writing. I’m doing this for fun. I don’t need a bunch of compliment-criticism sandwiches, yanno?

If you’re going to tear down someone else’s work — keep it to yourself. You don’t usually read OFC fics but you really like mine? Cool! Tell me that! But don’t insult all the other lovely OFCs in the process. You usually don’t read childhood friends-to-lovers? I’m so happy that I’ve been able to reel you in. But keep the comparisons to yourself.

I honestly see it more than I see people just going “this sucked” on a piece of writing which also isn’t great, but the former is way more common.

“But Poet!” You say again, “I’m entitled to my opinion aren’t I? I’m allowed to dislike things!!”

Yes, you are! And you can have and share those opinions! Just maybe not on a work that isn’t even yours. A ficwriter does not know you hated all the other work out there to understand that you enjoyed theirs. I am someone with very strong Writing Opinions. And I am either sharing them HERE, on my blog, where it can’t really hurt anybody since it’s not like I’m targeting somebody — or I’m getting on a soapbox to my friends for an hour about it in a group chat. Which I think we should do more often.

Remember “if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say it at all”? Lets bring that back. Stop with the backhanded compliments fellas. It isn’t cute.

[caelumsnuff]

i find it kinda interesting that the similar-sized ~smaller fandoms I'm in (a certain twitch streamer, various interactive fiction pieces, certain DnD podcasts/shows), you're allowed to put constructive criticism in the main tags (obv hate will always get people riled up) of the work, but Redacted Audio fandom if you go 'Xavier only seems to have gotten introduced to die; we should have seen more of Lovely's difficulty after turning; Imperium!Asher & David's in Cataclysm felt like overpowered a lot (for a couple that weren't initially a thing in season one of Imperium) especially over Imperium!Milo & Sweetheart's current relationship, etc lol...people get upset, they block, no one interacts.

Idk if Erik deleting the Bright Eyes storyline just frightened people into rarely even offering slight notes (which I know some people were annoying about having an unlikable listener), but it's odd. Everyone seems hesitant to give this man anything but glowing praise for everything. Everything lol. He mentioned thinking of himself as a writer first and previously wanting to be an author, but I wonder if he would even be able to incorporate notes from a professional developmental editor (or even try to). I think he could accomplish a lot by even running plans through with a critique partner or two.

Isn't it odd? Ive been in a shit ton of fandoms, but ive never been in one that is like this staunchly anti-critique/anti-analysis. It's strangely cult-like in the way that voicing dissenting opinions, expressing differences in interpretations, or analyzing the work in a way that is more critique driven rather than theory driven gets you shunned. HUGE swathes of hate mail, death threats, suicide baiting, and so on and so forth for daring to not listen to the Word of God or not consuming the plots and messaging on a surface level. I feel like some of these people never developed critical thinking skills. Hell, this fandom will even hates on you for... liking the villians???? The purity culture in this fandom bro....

I do think the aversion to this stuff is bc of the bright eyes and fred situation, at least in large part. But iirc the reason those videos got deleted was because everybody was arguing over who was really in the wrong. I wasn't participating in redacted fandom spaces at the time, but i know the discord was up back then, so it probably has something to do with Erik actually seeing the bickering. No one can convince me he didn't leave the discord for similar reasons. He's probably not on tumblr or twitter or tiktok or ao3 or whatever fucking hellsite looking at our opinions. And shit, even if he was, that's on him bro. The idea that expressing dissatisfaction, dislike, critique, or otherwise not accepting being spoonfed how we're supposed to feel about the work is somehow going to make him delete content is wild.

Said it before, but if he's that sensitive about his work being critiqued, he should not be posting his art online. And i don't mean that in a mean-hearted way, if seeing people not like/critique your art makes you want to hide it or puts pressure on you to change it, you shouldn't put it up online. Protect yourself from the emotional distress yanno? That's one of the reasons i don't post my own drawings/paintings online. My art is very personal to me, and despite knowing im a very good artist, seeing someone not like it or make fun of it would hurt a lot. So i only post my fics online. At least for now.

Anyways, thank you for the ask. I totally agree, its interesting. And fucking weird.

[spacexcowgirl]

Hi Rose!!! 🫐 and 🍈 for the ask game pls <33

hi em!! ty :)

🫐 What’s your favorite underrated thing in your fandom? (A ship that only you seem to write for, a character there’s almost no fics about, a trope that criminally hasn’t been written yet, etc.)

okay so. I haven’t posted for this ship and I think no one will agree with me but this is probably my time to come out as… a prongsfoot shipper. I have read like every fic under the tag on ao3. I have ranted to maggie about why they work. I have felt the shame of even considering them.

they’re certainly not my favorite pairing together, and they’re one of those ships that a lot of the time, I don’t really see working out in the long run, but it can be so fun. really this all just comes down to the fact that I am first and foremost a friends to lovers girlie, and if done well, they can be so good.

I think it comes down to like a lot of people really love and relate to regulus, and then can see him in various pairings. and while I love him, i’m not sure I relate to him? so I struggle when he’s in any other ship bc i’m like wait. no. it has to be jeg. so on the flip, i’m kinda down to read james with anyone? like will entertain almost any of it. idk if that makes sense? essentially I just love james and am happy to read him in most pairings bc im still reading him.

otherwise I think ravenclaw barty is pretty underrated and enjoy when I see that occasionally!

🍈 Who’s your blorbo and what are some of your favorite headcanons/ideas about them that repeatedly show up in your fics? Free pass to rant about blorbo opinions.

mmm james. always james.

i’m trying to think of specific things I include about him in all of my fics though.

I always see him as desi, even if I don’t tag it bc it doesn’t come up. but in both of my long fics, it is tagged, and ive specifically dived a bit into what state in india his family was from, bits of their culture, traditional foods, etc. the only time ive ever been out of north america was when I went to India when I was 14? 15? so i’ve really enjoyed like showcasing a bit of desi james beyond just saying he’s desi.

otherwise, I don’t really subscribe to the sunshine headcanon? i’ve used metaphors about the sun before, bc they’re easy lmao, but he is not like. this always happy always perfect guy. in fact he is like, usually a major fuck up in my fics. and I think that’s good! let him make his mistakes, yanno?

idk if any of this makes sense or if it’s all too long but ty for the asks again <3

fic writer asks

[10-days-of-freakin-olives]

To be honest I automatically bookmark everything I want to save as private, mostly because I bookmark them for my own reference. I don't rec a lot of things, and I often forget to go through and make things I want to rec public.

I should probably do that...

I can understand the thought behind bookmarking things you don't want to read again, though I don't and will probably never do that myself, but even if you don't make things private there are ways to tag things that aren't obvious. Like a secret code just for you. "Bob's Faves", but Bob is an awful coworker you hate who has terrible taste, or "Serious Ohio Vibes", but it's Ohio, enough said.

Get creative with it, yanno? You can not only avoid being a dick, accidentally or otherwise, you can also compile a whole secret library that only you know the real truth about. Problem solved.

Reminder that people can see your bookmark names and tags etc unless you bookmark it as private

[arjaandsimoni]

Wulfshead Free Drinks Policy

Hampton New Hampshire, a lovely seaside destination, but one with a few dark spots in it’s past. One of which involved the harassment and eventual death of a woman known as Eunice ‘Goody’ Cole in the late sixteen hundreds.

Accused of witchcraft multiple times, as well as being ‘ill-natured and ugly’ among other more serious accusations, the elderly woman was eventually brought to trial. There she was found guilty and executed before having a stake driven through her heart and a horseshoe hung from it, then being buried in an unmarked grave.

While Nelen knew full well ‘witchcraft’ existed, he also knew the views of mundanes of that time period were a load of shit by and large and that most such trials were a class backlash, or just a community looking for scapegoats among anyone who was an easy target. Nobody burned a real witch.

He did however know of a few witches who led the arrests, interrogations, and executions of the accused though. Not all witches were like his sister and, well, now his cousin.

Stephanie had texted him about Stephy’s progress. It had been a few months, but Nelen had managed to procure a new burner phone in that time. Stephy was trying, but he could barely conjure a wind burst and watching him try to fly was like watching a chicken panic apparently. It took him a while to even manifest wings and raven legs.

She said it was probably a confidence issue more than anything, especially given his home life. She told her brother they’d keep at it though, but the fact that he could do it meant more to him than she could’ve imagined. Apparently, he cried when he saw the wings.

He sighed, looking at the alleyway where the client had told him about, wishing he could help his cousin too… but after that incident he had multiple reasons to stay away from Covington for a while.

Franklin was one of them, and entire teams of police from Kenton, Campbell, Boone, Grant, and Hamilton counties investigating to find anyone with ANY connections to the incident that had left over a dozen buildings in the city in ruins was another.

Loren may have gone for empty buildings after all, but she did NOT hold back otherwise. He hoped like hells they were insured, though given the degree of damage this may fall under ‘acts of God.’

He snorted, “She got that from Morrigan, so its technically not inaccurate…” he muttered with a rueful smile.

“What?” asked Dawn, looking up.

“Nothing, just thinking about that mess in Covington.” he replied.

“Ah, yeah… wonder how Loren’s doing. Shame she couldn’t tag along.” she nodded, adjusting her belt, her tail always got uncomfortable in her jeans after a few hours.

“Too tempting a target. You can bet she’s just as high on Frank’s shit list as I am now. If we’re both together I wouldn’t put it past him to throw the entire clan at us after that. I can’t imagine anything that’d get him more hard-core determined than that.” he replied.

“Eh, who knows?” she shrugged. “So… the ghost of Goody Cole?” she asked.

Nelen glanced down at an amulet in his hand, “I dunno… its not responding to any of the usual stuff, but we’ve got multiple eye-witness accounts stating they saw a spectral woman with a stake driven through her heart, horseshoe and all.” he replied, “She hasn’t done anything yet, but the mayor wants her exorcised before she does. They’re not taking the risk that she’ll start attacking people.” he nodded.

“Hum…” she murmured, squirming a bit more, her tail was really bugging her now. “Hey Nelen? My tail is doin’ the thing.” she grumbled.

“The thing?” he asked.

“Yanno, the thing. My shenanigans sensor.” she nodded, “I think this may be more than just a ghost.” she replied.

“… right.” he rolled his eyes. Dawn insisted that if her tail started acting up like that it meant a case was gonna get really weird. Okay so she was right about the dwarf village, and there was that old theater in the Bronx, and the spirits haunting the band camp that Nelen had to do some online research just to work out what the hell he had even seen, and the wendigo (that fuckin’ wendigo man,) but…

“You doubt the tail.” she shrugged.

“Its just… I’ve never heard of a Cheshire’s tail being some kind of radar for goofy shit happening.” he replied.

“Yeaaaaaaah, and you didn’t know about my eye trick until I showed you on that werewolf and had him chasing his tail.” she grinned.

He shrugged and nodded, “Fair… but c’mon, the tail thing is a little far-fetched.” he replied.

“Don’t doubt the tail.” she smirked, “This one is gonna go weird.”

Nelen shrugged, “Well, whatever.” he replied, taking out an old polaroid camera with several strange symbols painted along the lens cap. He got a couple shots of the alleyway entrance, then they walked along to the others and got pictures there as well, then headed back to the hotel.

That Evening at a local Super 8

He and Dawn sat up that night with Chinese takeout, kung pao chicken for him and crab rangoon for her, as he poured over his books, frowning. Both of them were seated cross-legged on one of the hotel beds with several books on death, spectral analysis, the underworld, and other ghostly phenomena.

Finally, Nelen spoke up, “Okay, so the spectral camera didn’t show dick, but we’ve got four people telling us she definitely showed up there and THEY got pictures of her… it should’ve picked up some trace…” he grumbled.

“Why would she be haunting there though?” asked Dawn, “I mean…” she paused to tear open another rangoon and lick out the crabmeat inside, “I thought her grave was supposed to be some Museum, not a strip mall and a bunch of other stuff. Did anything even exist there back in the sixteen hundreds?” she frowned.

“No, but hauntings can move sometimes… I heard those guys outta New York are doing a study on ghost migration patterns after some mess they were involved in out in Roswell.” he replied.

“Wait… you mean those Ghostbuster guys?” she asked.

“Yeah, them. Apparently, there were a bunch of ghosts of soldiers disguising themselves as aliens to drive off people investigating the crash site of the UFO from back in the day, but they were off from the actual site by several miles.” he nodded.

Dawn shrugged, eating down another rangoon’s contents, “Huh. Bet your grandpa would love to have their tech. Loren was saying how pissed off he got whenever Clan Fullmoon wound up needing to deal with a ghost because they HAD to use magic.” she grinned.

“He didn’t wanna pay the licensing fee and after two attempts at corporate espionage failed Venkman got a good lawyer he gave up." he smirked back. "Serves the old bastard right. He can stick to exorcisms and just deal with it.”

“So ya think that’s what we got?” she asked.

“Could be, I mean this was a lot longer back than Roswell… but… the camera should have picked up something…” he blinked, “Unless… that camera is for standard hauntings, but if she really got harassed into the grave…” he glanced down at his hand, “Shit, it could be another wraith.” he frowned.

He winced a bit as his arm spasmed slightly, “Merihim says that sending her to Hell isn’t an option. He can fight a wraith, but unless someone is actually supposed to go to Hell he can’t send them there.” he nodded.

“Yeah, been meaning to ask about that, supposed to? Who decides that?” she asked.

Nelen pointed up, “Yahweh and the Heavenly Host do… sorta. See, the truth of it is only Christians can go to Hell. You have to actually do the whole nine yards and convert, and THEN break the rules. Its like my contract with Merihim, but from the other direction.” he explained around a mouth of spicy chicken meat. “That guy back in Colorado? He was a practicing Catholic when he assaulted Heather back in the 80s, I checked before we left just to make sure. He did the communion and everything, but he committed the sin of Wrath and the sin of Lust when he raped her. Double whammy, down ya go.” he nodded.

“Huh, so non-Christians?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Depends on what they believe and if they have any pacts with a deity. Hindus and Buddhists reincarnate supposedly, though how you’d track that I have no godsdamn clue. Most anyone who doesn’t have some sort of religion either goes to the Underworld, becomes a haunting, or… well…” he shrugged, “Wherever I guess.” he replies. “I’m not gonna pretend I’m an expert.” then nodded, “Well, besides Christian stuff obviously… But yeah, he had a pact with Yahweh and Heaven and he violated the terms of it, so down he went.”

Dawn blinked, “So those preachers who go on about all that stuff about the rapture and the final days?”

Nelen winced as his arm spasmed suddenly. “… didn’t know he could laugh like that… yeah, load of crap. They have no clue what they’re talking about and mostly made it up. Christian equivalent of bad fan fiction.” he smirked.

She snorted, then finished off her rangoon and took several laps from her water cup. Nelen had tried to get her to learn how to drink with a straw, but it seemed some parts of her anatomy were still too feline for that in her human form. The last time she’d tried she almost drowned herself.

“But yeah, anyways… this haunting doesn’t fit any patterns I’ve ever seen before… and while she may be a wraith that doesn’t guarantee that she’d be Hellbound. If they were persecuted or murdered in life they could come back as a wraith without it being Hell-worthy… I mean, that’d be some pretty justifiable anger.” he muttered, “We’ll have to go back tonight and hope we run into her.” he nodded.

Dawn grinned, “We got this, we ain’t ‘fraid of no ghosts!” she grinned.

Nelen sighed, “Great, now I’ve got Ray Parker Jr stuck in my head…”

Downtown Hampton, Midnight

About an hour later they walked back to the alleyway, the moon hanging high in the sky above them. It was a half moon, a real witch’s moon. Some people thought it was the crescent moon, but that wasn’t even close. A half moon, halfway split between light and dark, created a crossroads. It wasn’t just the fae who benefited from such things…

Nelen looked around, tossing a leather pouch to himself as he did… the same trick he’d tried on Walking Sam, but this time he was fairly certain he had the right target. Goody Cole was a white woman in the sixteen hundreds, it was a fairly safe bet she was Christian in life. “Alright Casper, come on… give us a… SHIT!” he started as he and Dawn spun to face the alleyway.

Fog began to roll out of the alley, a thick greenish mist, and a voice echoed out. “Leaaaaaaaaaaave…” it snarled…

A woman slowly emerged, her skin wrinkled and rotten, a stake driven into her chest. She extended a clawed hand, opened her mouth, and let out a low moan that echoed out at them.

“Not this time, EAT THIS YA SPOOK!” shouted Nelen, throwing the pouch at her!

The leather pouch of grave dirt, powdered tombstone, blessed silver, and candle wax sailed through the air, then smacked hard into the ghost’s forehead with an audible smack!

“AUGH!” she hissed, shaking her head and clutching at it.

Nelen stumbled, Dawn’s eyes going wide as the ghost looked up, then shrieked again before retreating back into the alleyway.

“… thunk?” said Dawn in surprise.

“That’s no godsdamn ghost, that thing is fully corporeal!” he snarled, “AFTER IT!” he shouted, rushing into the alley as he pulled a pocket flashlight out, shining it around in the gloom.

“Where are you… where… ACK!” he stumbled, almost tripping over a sturdy outdoor power cable connected to a large box, out of which was pouring the greenish mist. “A fog machine?” he blinked in confusion, then Dawn’s voice came from ahead.

“Nelen! Over here! Manhole cover! She’s gone underground!” she yowled.

Nelen chased after her, then looked down into the manhole cover. “Fog machine, physical body, what the hells is this? A changeling? A vampire?” he shook his head, then nodded to Dawn. “Recon.”

Dawn grinned, then vanished with a pop, a minute later she reappeared, “All clear, I saw our oopyspoop heading off into the tunnels. Looks like she glows in the dark.” she grinned.

Nelen jumped down onto a pathway through the sewer system, thankfully the water flow was grated off so they could stand on it, and looked around, four tunnels stretched out before him.

Dawn appeared next to him and pointed down one, “She went that way!” she nodded.

Nelen grinned and rushed off after her, following the tunnel into a large, cavernous room. A grate was in the ceiling, moonlight shining down through it… but they could see fine thanks to some large lamps set up next to… “What the… a construction drill? A jackhammer? What the fu- SHIT!” he shouted as he was tackled from behind.

“GET OUT!” snarled the ghost, but Nelen didn’t hesitate. If a ghost could attack him physically that made them a wraith! He had an answer to that.

A pair of hands grabbed them, then lifted the ghost right off them and slammed them into the ground hard, the warlock’s eyes blood red as he raised a hand, conjuring a tendril of blood and fangs. “Bad move! I’m going to flay your corpus apart you… wait…” paused Merihim, looking closer.

In the light he could see that the woman’s face was all wrong… but not in a ghostly way… and that smell...

Nelen’s eyes went back to normal as the tendril dissipated, “… rubber?” he blinked as he reached down and gripped the base of her neck, then yanked hard upwards. There was a tearing sound, and he was looking at the face of a youngish man in their early twenties.

He looked at them, then at what he was holding, then back. “… what.” he said aloud.

Dawn appeared next to him, staring as well, lifting up her sunglasses so she could get a proper look at his face.

“W-what the fuck are you?!” stammered the ghost.

“… us?! What the fuck are YOU!?” retorted Nelen, standing up and looking at what he held in his hand. A rubbery mask, spray painted the same pale white as the rest of what the ‘ghost’ had on.

He looked back, “… are you some sort of changeling? You used glamour to convince the mundanes you were a real ghost? Is there a hedge gate on the other side of that wall? Your hollow?” he asked.

“A what?!” gasped the man in the ghost costume.

Nelen blinked slowly, then walked around him, “A ghoul! Your master wants to put a sanctum down here and you’re driving away people who might find it!” he said, snapping his fingers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he replied, too freaked out to get up.

Nelen looked back, “… a mage. You’re a mage and you’re trying to set up a private sanctuary down here where the mundanes won’t come poking around.” he nodded.

“… what the fuck are you talking about?!” he asked.

“WELL WHATS ALL THIS SHIT FOR THEN?!” he gestured to the construction gear.

“THAT WALL HAS THE VAULT OF THE FIFTH-THIRD BANK ON THE OTHER SIDE!”  he blurted out.

Nelen blinked slowly, then looked at the mask, then back at him, then stared at the wall. “… fuck me sideways we got zoinked.” he muttered, his lips twitching upwards as he chuckled, “We got fucking Scooby Doo’d. It’s a criminal in a rubber mask. We’re the meddling kids!” he started laughing as Dawn grinned, giggling and swishing her tail.

“I told you to trust my tail!” she laughed, “I told you but noooooooo it’s not something Cheshires are knooown for!” she cackled.

Nelen looked at the mask, then grinned at her, “You know what this means Dawn!” he said excitedly.

“FREE DRINKS FOR A WEEK!” they both said together, then Nelen shouted, “Get out your smartphone!”

The ghost cried out as he was yanked off the floor and put in a headlock by the warlock, his hand holding the rubber mask as Dawn held up the phone, making the peace sign with her free hand and snapped a selfie.

“HAH! Fuck yes! FINALLY HAPPENED! Woooooohooho!” she cheered, dancing around the room as Nelen grinned.

“Fuck me I can’t believe it took this long. Seven damn years with the Wulfshead and we FINALLY got one!” he laughed.

The ghost looked between them, “W-wait… what about me?” he asked.

“Oh, who gives a SHIT about you Casper?” laughed Nelen, tossing the rubber mask at him, “I’ll rat your ass out to the cops on my way outta town and THEY can deal with you!”

Dawn grinned, “Yeah, we deal with supernatural threats all the time, you’re just a joker who got his heist plan from old Hannah Barbera cartoons!” she cackled, her tail swishing as Nelen walked to the far wall, said the words, and the door to the Wulfshead appeared. The two of them walked through it, laughing fit to burst, and then the door vanished a second later after it closed.

The ghost stood there, blinking, then threw up his hands, “WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!” he screamed to nobody in particular.

The Wulfshead Club, an hour later

Inside the Wulfshead Nelen was at a booth with his cousin Loren, freshly back from her own job, along with Shaman Bond and another small-time hunter named Ed Vargas. Dawn was up on the stage doing Karaoke again and, in light of recent events, was singing ‘We’re the Hex Girls’ with two zombie girls backing her up.

“No, seriously! I was all set to pulp this guy and then I realized what I was looking at!” he laughed over his third drink, “In the dark you couldn’t tell, but next to those bigass lights he had set up it was obvious. I actually saw this same mask at Kmart when I was a kid!” he grinned.

“Ah cannae believe it.” smirked Loren, “Ah bloody mundy in a costume…”

“Believe it sister, I’ve seen it more than a couple times.” grinned Shaman Bond over his gin, “Some prats up in London tried to rob a jewelry store disguised as werewolves and it was so convincing that word got back to us. I almost shot one with a silver bullet before they pulled off their masks and surrendered.” he chuckled.

“Hell, we’ve all been there at least once. Lucky bastard though Nelen, free drinks all week.” nodded Ed.

Across the room, near the exit, was a huge cork board that held several pictures, polaroids, and more recently printed out selfies depicting various hunters throughout the years next to huge dragon like beasts that had turned out to be disguised cars, tied up and beat up criminals in really convincing Halloween costumes, a would be treasure hunter in a fake pirate costume, and now Nelen and Dawn grinning ear to ear with an extremely confused bank robber sandwiched between them. Above the corkboard was a sign reading ‘Jinkies Gang! We solved the mystery!’

Under the board was a sign reading, ‘Get Scooby Doo’d, drink free for a week! (Must present picture as proof.)’

The clientele of the Wulfshead got called out to all sorts of locations to deal with creepies, crawlies, ghoulies, ghosts, vampires, werewolves, faeries, and all sorts of things… but every so often, against all odds, it really was just a man in a rubber mask. Zoinks indeed.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

[communistkenobi-archive]

the more I see about the gay pirate show on this website the more I dislike it out of pure spite

[airghoul]

there is a reason i am being annoying about this by the way. i don’t want any of you to be uncomfortable with what i am going to be posting. if nobody tells me otherwise, then i will be posting it with heavy tags and a community label, but if ANYONE would prefer the other one, you need to tell me

i do not post gore that often, i rarely even reblog it. it’s not like. hyper realistic or anything, but it is still gore, and i do consider it to be on the severe side (YOU may think otherwise, but to me it is), so i’m just being extra cautious, yanno?

just so you guys know i'm going to be incredibly annoying about asking about how to post the gore pic when im done with it because i NEED feedback due to it being graphic (back shot with spine showing, ribs + skin pulled out to look like wings, lungs hooked to skin. view of non detailed cock and balls from behind)

once again, the options are: post it freely with heavy tags + community label or post a cropped version with less gore and a link to it off site

[jobey-wan-kenobi]

yeah but don't worry there's no way i have ADHD

OK, so, heads-up!

This is the state of my main blog:

"Jobey — how?"

Um, crippling anxiety about posting, compounded by how exhausting it is to tag shit, all with a healthy dose of indecision as to what to do with certain posts.

It wouldn't matter so much... except I got some fic writing in that drafts folder that's, I reckon, a good 1000 posts back in there?

Anyway the longer I put off my worry about spamming everyone's feed the worse the problem gets.

So! Starting Saturday Aug 21, I'm going to be spamposting like a mofo.

We're gonna underearth, like, layers of brief hyperfixations. Like fossils in sediment! Should be AWESOME!

Although... if that doesn't sound awesome to you, and you feel the need to unfollow me for a while... trust me, I understand.

I'll be done by the end of August at the latest — so if you want to unfollow me and follow again, send a DM and I'll reply back once The Deluge has died down.

'Course, if you think you're hard enough to withstand the blast, then buckle up bitches. This. is. Happening!

Either way... catch ya on the other side.

[kanadeamo]

It really does suck that the like/reblog ratio has become what it is

Like, I still get decent amounts of notes, I can still reach a couple hundred or even 1k on a really good day, but it's very obvious that "300 likes, 27 reblogs" is just kinda the new standard here

[tteokdoroki]

Is it bad that i thought 'samu would ravage reader in her wedding dress before she walked down the isle,, (@ me not reading tags and saw this in smut instead of angst) reader dripping down the isle in more ways that an anxious ball of fluff in her wedding day

omg ok i didn’t mean to tag it as smut sorry 😭 but imagine having like… one last hurrah with osamu before you get married yanno, like he’s your best friend and he thinks you’re marrying a complete and total douche— he’s your groomsman of honour so he’s helping you out behind the scenes and he can’t hold it in anymore so osamu just .

kiss you

and he knows it’s fucked up that he did, but never in a million years does osamu miya expect you to kiss him back— feverish as you pull him against you despite the massive wad of tule skirts you have on. then you’re pushing off his suit jacket and grabbing at the tufts of brown hair so he knows not to pull away and he’s pushing up your skirt and grabbing your breasts from over the neckline of your dress !!!

what happened to your morals, osamu miya? they’re out the window !!! because now he’s fucking you; the bide to be right before you’re due to marry someone he knows you don’t love that much ( otherwise you wouldn’t be doing this ), and the confession that he’s always loved you spills from miya’s lips as he fucks you slow and hard against the door, mumbling how it should have been him.

it have been his ring, his wedding, his marriage to you. he tells you all this as he rocks his hips into you, let’s his cock bully your insides and make sure you only remember the feeling of osamu!! he basks in the way you moan his name …’samu, ‘samu! cause it’s probably the last and only time you ever will. you squeezing his cock and telling osamu you love him is what makes you both cum, and he breeds you, creampies you by accident and tries not to think about it guiltily when someone knocks on the door and asks if you’re ready.

you ask osamu then, if he loves truly ( of course, yes. ) and then you ask if he’ll run away with you— you can get married and move from Tokyo to Osaka, help him out with his shop and be mrs osamu miya for the rest of your life. happy.

but even then, osamu thinks you’d be better off with the man at the end of your aisle. he thinks he’s doing the right thing, by cleaning you up, fixing your dress and makeup and ordering plan B to your house for you to take tomorrow. yer getting married. he tells you with a soft smile. let’s get ya down the aisle.

and those are osamu miya’s last words to the woman he loves.

[sakumasmut]

hiii can you do a fic w/ an afab!reader who feels insecure w/ her body post-childbirth n keito (or kuro if u dont write 4 keikei) reassures her... yanno , body worship n stuff

also sorry if im not making any sense its like 5 am here n i havent slept since like . last morng #enstarsstuff💔💔

Keito Hasumi x Fem!Reader

this turned out so much softer and sweeter than expected, hope you like it!

tags: body worship, praise, nipple play, mentioned (past) impregnation and childbirth

ao3

Keito pressed kisses to your shoulders as he removed your clothes, a giggle escaping your lips as he unclipped your bra, allowing it to fall and join your shirt and pants. The action released your large breasts, but they sagged immediately without their usual support, causing you to frown as a sudden wave of anxiety hit you.

It had been a while since you had shown your husband your chest, at least in an intimate and sexual context. Your baby was a few months old, and what with you taking care of them while Keito continued his idol work, the only time he ever really saw you topless was when you were breastfeeding. Now that your child was safely tucked into their crib for the night though, you were suddenly anxious over how your breasts looked to your husband, much different now that you had already given birth.

“What’s wrong?” Keito asked, frowning when he noticed you were no longer paying attention to him. You turned your head away from him, trying to come up with an excuse.

“J-Just thinking about stuff, don’t worry about it.”

He pursed his lips, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you. He was always good at seeing through people.

“Talk to me.”

There was no use trying to lie to him, so you gave up and sighed.

“Well it’s just…it’s been a long while since you’ve seen me naked, and my body’s changed.”

Your hands touched the top of your breasts, and you looked down at them. Your nipples were larger than normal, having grown bigger to allow for easier feeding. They were also much more sensitive, even the chill from the air conditioner making them tingle.

“These aren’t the same, they’re a lot more saggy because of the milk.”

Your hand trailed down to your hips, which had also grown much wider compared to nearly a year ago.

“And my waist is so big now. I’m sure I’m not as tight as when you…um, impregnated me. So I guess I’m just…feeling weird having you see me like this.”

His expression was unreadable, eyes behind his lenses looking you up and down, and you feared the worst. Keito reached a hand out to cup one of your breasts, lifting it up.

“Have I ever said that I found your body disgusting?”

His thumb brushed against your nipple, and you gasped as it perked up immediately at the slightest stimulation.

“Why, if that was truly how I felt, I would have never settled down with you.”

His other hand joined in on groping your large mounds, squeezing them tightly. He admired the way they felt in his hands, pressing his palm flat against your sensitive buds and making circular motions to stimulate them.

“K-Keito!” You whined, the way your nipples were reacting to his touch already making you rub your legs together needily.

“Your body is beautiful. Don’t tell yourself otherwise.”

Keito pushed you gently so that your back landed on the soft mattress, letting him hover above you. His hands went down to your hips and he rested them on either side, your legs spread slightly to show him a wet patch already forming on your panties.

“These hips were what brought our precious child into the world. I could never complain about them.”

His fingers tugged your underwear down, and you let him pull them off your ankles, leaving your sensitive regions exposed. He pushed your legs further apart, giving him a better view of the way your outer lips were already glistening with arousal, the remnants of your perineal tear obvious from where it nearly reached your anal hole.

“I was with you the moment our baby crowned from these lips. I care not for whether they feel loose, only if I can still make love to you.”

You were an absolute mess from his words alone, unable to make any sort of retort to counter his loving statements. He really did know how to make a woman happy, and you felt more than ever absolutely zero regret for marrying him.

“If you would allow me, I’d be overjoyed to sow the seeds for you to bear us another child.”

You blushed deeply, eyes watching his hands leave your legs to unbutton his pants.

“I’d like that.”

[notepadsandtealeaves]

K. Bokuto || Say My Name A Thot’s Thoughts 💦

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT || 18+ ONLY ||

|| ao3 version | hq tag | m.lists | main blog ||

↠ Requested By: This damned thirst dream that won’t leave me be until I write it out ↠ Reader Gender: Neutral ↠ Content Type: So very NSFW ((*whacks minors on the nose with a rolled up newspaper* No! Not for you!!)) ↠ Chronology: Post time skip. ↠ CWs/TWs: Any applicable warnings can be found in the tag list under the cut. ↠ Betas? Lmaoooooo… ↠ Total WC: 2.3k~

“I know you know it, sweetheart—so say it. Say my fucking name, right the fuck now.”

He’ll get what he wants—even if he has to fuck it out of you…

I want this man to snap my spine like a gd glow stick. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

((p*rn with v. little plot ahead, in case you somehow couldn’t figure that out lol))

💦 Tags: Reader uses they/them pronouns (tho I don’t think Reader’s pronouns actually come up in this? dk how I managed that *shrugs*) | Reader has ambiguous anatomy | Penetrative sex (missionary that turns into a mating press, Reader receiving) | Rough-ish sex (some grabbing of the face, and like he’s really laying into you, but it doesn’t get too heavy) | ((so maybe it’s more ‘hard’ than ‘rough’?? idk, I’ll let you lot decide)) | ((also, Bo’s a lil bit feral in this one, ngl)) | Some dom/sub undertones | ((my subby ass is predictable as hell, so are you even surprised at this point?? lmao)) | A smattering of ✨ ~Size kink~ ✨️ | ((Bo’s a big, big boy with a big, BIG dick, but I digress)) | Use of petnames (pretty baby, sweetheart, that kinda beat) | Also Bo’s got a bit of voice kink—who saw that one coming?? | ((me, I did, because I just made it a thing lol)) | Unprotected Sex because is fic, and is hot in fic. Don’t the thing irl unless you take proper precautions and discuss it with your partner well beforehand, mmkay? Mmkay… | Also what probably amounts to an unrealistic amount of cum, but look—I’ve got my kinks, okay? Lmao | Also, also—potentially OOC Bokuto if you canon him to be soft ‘n’ sweet in bed. He can be, and is a good portion of the time, but like… sometimes he just wants to bully you a bit while he fucks you into the mattress, yanno? | Also, also, also—unintentional cockwarming | Sappy ending because OP is a giant bb that just wants to be loved

“Bo-Bokuto, gods, please,” you damn near sob, the pleasure coursing through the whole of your body setting your hands to feebly grasping at the sheets, your face, and anything else you can reach in an attempt to ground yourself.

For his part the man above you is distinctly unamused, though for the life of you, you cannot figure out why that is–

“That’s not my name, baby. Not when I’m taking you like this.”

Oh. That.

In all honesty, you don’t think anyone can blame you for the slip up—after all, the pair of you were little more than acquaintances just a week ago. Sure, you’d been keeping up a line of friendly banter on those not-so-rare occasions when he decided to grace your little deli with his presence, and yeah you could reliably call him a regular at this point, but still you’d hardly been expecting him to ask you out when he bounded through the door last Friday. What’s more you didn’t think that your very first date would go so well that he would be taking you on another just a few days later, and finally a third one two days after that. To say that the pair of you are speed running your relationship is an understatement, and yet somehow things don’t feel rushed in the slightest.

This is more than likely due to what you’ve now dubbed the ‘Bokuto Effect’.

Said effect seems to lend an air of stability to actions that would otherwise leave you recoiling. And how can it not when he’s just so… him. Kind and sweet, caring and compassionate… You may not have known him for long, but you’re thoroughly convinced that there’s not a malicious bone in this man’s body. This is why you allowed him to follow you up to your apartment tonight, despite it having been technically less than a week of your being together—gods, are you even together? You have no idea as you’ve yet to actually talk about anything even remotely close to that, much less bothered about putting a label on it. There’s no time to consider something that ultimately feels tangential when you’re in the middle of falling at a breakneck speed.

(You can only hope that he feels the same, this quickening that has you casting aside a lifetime’s worth sensibility and letting him in like this. It’s hard to tell when he’s always smiling, always laughing, always keeping it light and bubbly and wonderful…)

In the now Bokuto—no, Koutaro—parts his lips around a particularly vicious looking grin. “I know you know it, sweetheart—so say it. Say my fucking name, right the fuck now.”

You try, you swear you do, but when he’s drilling so deeply into you, his thick head scraping against that one spot with every drag of his thick cock… words become understandably difficult. You slur out something with roughly the same composition as the appellation (you think) but valiant though they are, your efforts are not enough to appease him. The sound of his laugh paired with the glint in his eyes has you shivering underneath him. Who knew he could wear ‘cocky bastard’ so well?

“Aww, listen to you,” he coos, condescension dripping from every syllable. “Cock drunk already, baby? Can’t say my name because you can’t remember it, huh? Well lemme help you out.”

Suddenly the legs that had been tossed over his broad (so, so damn broad—fuck) shoulders are being pushed up against your chest with the whole of his impressive weight following closely behind. Your resulting scream is loud enough that you’re sure to get a noise complain or several, and maybe even a visit from the cops if your neighbors confuse your bliss for a legitimate cry for help. But those are all distant worries, things that cannot find a permanent home in a mind that is far too clouded with lust and a resounding chant of more-more-MORE.

You claw at his back as he bottoms out over and over again, marking territory that you’re not entirely sure is yours to claim; the sounds that are pouring out of you all the while would be mortifying, you’re sure, if you weren’t so lost in the sex fog. For his part, the man above you is just as vocal, with a series of hisses, groans, and chuckles falling past his lips as he works at dismantling you, piece by needy piece. It seems to take him a few moments to remember his original goal—or maybe it’s more so a case of an artist admiring his work—but once he does…

“Kou- “-tar- “-o.”

He fucks the syllables into you, growling them directly in your face each time his hips come to press flush against the plush of your ass and thighs. He repeats it again and then a third time before he palms the bottom half of your face. That he can cover such an impressive area with just one hand should probably unnerve you, but as it stands the size disparity only makes you hotter. You moan into his grasp only to have the sound scale up into a squeak when he smooshes your cheeks inwards with a flex of his fingers. The movement sees your lips jutting and puckering in what you’re sure has to be an extremely unflattering matter, but if he minds the view he doesn’t show it.

“Come on, pretty baby,” he starts, voice surprisingly even (or maybe not, given his job’s stamina requirements), “I know you’re feelin’ good, but that doesn’t excuse your bad behavior. Now say it with me—Kou-tar-o.”

“Kou- Kou—ahh~! Fuck, so good–”

He tuts at that, his grip going that tiny bit tighter. “Focus, baby. Kou-”

“Kou-” you repeat, the breathy quality of your voice reducing the sound to little more than a pant.

“-tar-”

“-tar-”

“-o.”

“-oo-ooo shit!”

When you feel the first brush of his fingers against your sex the only thing that keeps you from vaulting straight off of the bed is the sheer size of him. You’d been so focused on getting things right (on giving him what he wants) that you hadn’t noticed his free hand moving to what little space there is to be found between you. Years of honing his craft has left the thing roughened with thick callouses; they had felt a bit odd against your own smoother palm when he’d held your hand earlier in the day, but feeling them now… The scrape is addicting, adding an extra delicious layer to the pleasure of him working over your core with a precision that shouldn’t be possible as this is the first time you’ve been together like this–

Just yet another result of the Bokuto Effect, you suppose.

Koutaro kisses you deeply then, greedily filling up his lungs with your moans even as he empties out your own. When he breaks away with a growled pant some long seconds later he’s all wide, wild eyes and pouring praise.

“That’s good, baby—fuck, it sounds so good when you say it like that. K-keep doin’ that f’me, yeah? Keep screaming my name and I promise I’ll make you feel so, so good– Gods, you’re so good…”

And he’s as good as his word.

Every utterance of his name sees him taking you harder, impossibly deeper, and faster. It’s a loop of pleasure that is all too easy to fall into; your whimpering cries giving him what he wants as his rolling hips work hard to give you what you need. Sweat darkens the lighter strands of his hair at the base turning the pale silver into something more akin to slate, with the salty liquid occasionally breaking past his hairline to slide down the chiseled contours of his face. Knowing that he—a professional athlete who is in near godly shape—is fucking you hard enough to actually break a sweat is a heady thing, one that draws you yet closer to your end.

With your orgasm so close at hand your brain’s higher functions all but cease. All there is in this moment is you and him and the one word that is left to you: Koutaro.

“Sound so pretty,” he tells you before pressing a quick kiss to your mumbling lips. “Gods, babe, I’m close—so damn close, I– ah-ah-ah shit!” A particularly decadent roll of his hips nearly sees you both shaking apart right then and there, but he pulls back some—just a bit, just enough to draw things out a little longer.

“‘M close,” you tell him a short while later, your declaration sounding more like a lament than anything. You don’t want this to end, but at the same time you need it to if only for your poor battered hole’s sake. “Fuck, Kou, please…”

He softens a bit at that, those molten pools of gold syruping with something tender as he takes in your fucked out expression. “I got you, baby, I promise—you cum when you need to, ‘kay? Do it and I’ll be right there with you…”

This touch of gentleness is well at odds with the way he continues to take your body through its paces, and that dichotomy is the very thing that finally drives you over the edge. You manage to eke out his name one final time, and the choked cry is enough to see him falling into bliss with you. His hips stutter compulsively as rope after hot, thick rope of cum shoots into you. You can feel it squelching out of you every time he pulls back, the liquid gliding warm and viscous over your skin to drip down and pool underneath you in a small puddle that’s only going to get bigger when he pulls out—if he pulls out. It certainly doesn’t seems as if he plans to anytime soon, not with the way he’s kissing you all over your face and neck, the ministrations cut through with praise and little love-drunk giggles.

Once he’s come back to himself, Koutaro flips you both over so that you’re resting against his chest—single-handedly, a thing that’s way hotter than such a simple action should be—with his softened cock still tucked snugly inside of you. You can tell the exact moment his skin makes contact with the cooling wet spot because he yelps before jerking you both over to the left. You’re just as love-drunk as he is apparently because you cannot stop giggling all the while, giddy at the return of the silly antics that had drawn you to him in the first place (not that you mind seeing this other, darker, more mature version of him at all).

He tilts your head up towards him for a short, sweet kiss before asking, “What ya laughing at, pretty?”

“You.”

“Wow, rude.”

“Whatever, you like it,” you tease as you prop yourself up against his chest.

“I mean… yeah,” he concedes with a laugh, “but only because it’s you.”

There’s a tenderness to his gaze that turns the simple phrase into an admission and you find yourself ducking your head in an attempt to conceal just how flustered it’s left you. Suddenly the scar underneath his right pec is the most interesting thing in the world, and you find yourself lightly tracing over it as you mutter out a quiet, “Oh really?”

“Mmhmm.” As the onomatopoeic sound vibrates through his chest and up into you it somehow manages to carry far more truth than something more elegant could ever hope to—because it’s real, because it’s him.

“I like you a whole helluva lot, ____,” he continues on, “and if I’m being completely honest I’m really hoping that I didn’t screw things up.”

That’s enough to get you to look up again, and Koutaro takes in your confused look with a sheepish expression of his own. “Yanno, with all of this.” He gestures vaguely over the length of your still naked bodies. “I, um… I have a tendency to go full tilt when it’s something I want, but that’s not always the move when it comes to relationships—or am I presuming too much in calling what we’ve got a ‘relationship’? I don’t think I am, not with the way you’re smiling, but…”

You swat at his chest and earn another heart stopping kiss for your troubles. The man—your man?—underneath you gives you his signature megawatt grin, though it fades into something softer and more intimate as he regards you.

“I think you’ve already given me your answer, but just to make sure—can I call you mine?”

You trail your fingers over the expanse of his well-defined jawline before cradling his cheek in your palm as you tell him, “Only if I can call you mine, too.”

He huffs out a laugh as he nods a bit before nuzzling into your hand. “Yeah, definitely.”

“Good.”

“Great,” he amends.

“Fantastic, even.”

“Stupendous.”

“Amazing.”

“Wonderful…”

The pair of you carry on like that for a good while, exhausting your vocabularies and arguing over synonyms in between laughter and sweet kisses until rumbling stomachs demand their due.

|| Bonus

Imagine sitting in Bo’s lap while he feeds you your snack of choice. You’re both still nude because why the fuck not, tho he has opted to get you a nice, soft blanket to burrito in. So anyways, he feeding you while you guys are watching something on the television, and he finds said something v. interesting—so interesting, in fact, that the next morsel he feeds you gets shoved damn near into the back of your throat.

Cue him laughing out an apology for gagging you—“I didn’t do it on purpose, baby, I swear!”—and kissing away the compulsory tears that are streaming down your cheeks from nearly having your life ended by a set of ridiculously long fingers and a fucking Dorito or whatever the fuck he was feeding you lmfao…

© notepadsandtealeaves, 2021 || Please do not repost, translate, or otherwise alter or distribute my works without my express permission. And for the love of god keep it away from Youtube and TikTok lol…