#source: pearls before swine

[incorrectteyvatism]

Nahida: You know, Scara, you've been a lot more empathetic lately. Why is that?

Scara: Because I've written down the phrases, "That's too bad," "I hear you," and, "I know how you feel" on this little piece of paper and I randomly spew one out every time you pause.

[incorrect-riordanverse-quotes]

Miranda, walking into the Ares cabin: What're you two watching? Clarisse, not looking away from the screen: Hockey. Miranda: I didn't know you liked hockey. Sherman: Oh, we love hockey. Except for those boring interludes where they skate around trying to hit the black thing. Miranda: ...you mean the puck. Clarisse, screaming at the television: FIGHT, YOU TIME-WASTING FIGURE SKATERS, FIGHT!

[incorrect-catcf-quotes]

Veruca: What does it mean if you are given something posthumously? Mike: I think it means they kick you in the rear. Charlie: That's 'posterior'. 'Posthumous' is after you die. Augustus: I'd hate to get kicked in ze rear after I die.

[incorrect-anything-quotes]

Daffy: I've concluded that the world would be a much better place if we'd all be a little less selfish and just start treating each other better.

Bugs: Good for you, Daff… so what are you gonna do about it?

Daffy: Wait for the world to start treating me better.

Bugs: (dryly) Of course.

Daffy: I'M OWED, BABY… I'M OWED!

[the-black-bulls]

Vanessa: You know, Gauche, I have to say, you’ve been a lot more empathetic lately. Why so?

Gauche: Well, Gordon wrote the phrases “that’s too bad”, “I hear you” and “I know how you feel” on this little piece of paper and I randomly spew one out every time one of you pauses.

[sariahsue]

Adrien: Y’know, Plagg, you’ve been so understanding lately. Why is that?

Plagg: Well, Tikki wrote the phrases “That’s too bad,” “I hear you,” and “I know how you feel” on this little piece of paper and I randomly spew one out every time you pause.

[hellomissmedia]

Butters: I worry too much about what others think of me.

Tolken: You just need to let them know that you're your own person and don't need their judgement.

Butters: Thanks!

Butters:

Butters: I wonder how they'll take that.

[overheard-at-the-berryworks]

Lemon Meringue: Whose drummer was Keith Mooncake?

Huckleberry Pie: Right.

Lemon Meringue: Whose?

Huckleberry Pie: Yes.

Lemon Meringue: What's the name?

Huckleberry Pie: Watts is the drummer for the Rolling Scones.

Lemon Meringue: (slightly frustrated) I don't care about the Rolling Scones. Whose drummer is Keith Mooncake?

Huckleberry Pie: You're correct there.

Lemon Meringue: Where?

Huckleberry Pie: Weir was the guitarist for the Grapeful Dead.

Lemon Meringue: (frustrated) How is he relevant?!

Huckleberry Pie: Howe is the guitarist for a different band.

Lemon Meringue: (very frustrated) WHO?!

Huckleberry Pie: Yes.

Lemon Meringue: THE WHO?!

Huckleberry Pie: No, Yes. Who's guitarist is Sweete Townshend.

Lemon Meringue: I DON'T KNOW!!

Huckleberry Pie: Third base!

----

post that explains what this means

[incorrectpowerrangersquotes]

Kapri: I'm thinking about pushing you off a tall cliff and filming what happens. Marah: What for? Kapri: Cause then I can get on one of those "shocking video" shows and be famous. Marah: But I could get hurt. Kapri: There's no "I" in "team".

[aslightlydifferentchristmascarol]

Fred: What does it mean if you are given something posthumously? Scrooge: I think it means they kick you in the rear. Cratchit: That's 'posterior'. 'Posthumous' is after you die. Marley: I'd hate to get kicked in the rear after I die.

[incorrect-bhaalspawn-quotes]

M’khiin: When people are rude to you, be above it all.

M’khiin: That way you can drop things on their heads.

Jaheira: That is not what that means.

[incorrectshantaequotes]

Risky: Would you betray a friend for personal gain or profit?

Pirate Master: Profit.

Pirate Master: ...ah. I thought that was multiple choice.

[incorrect-anything-quotes]

Johnny: You know what the problem is with people these days? They don't take the time to really listen to each other.

Dukey: Yeah, I think it's because-

Johnny: Whoa whoa whoa.

Johnny: Listen.

Dukey: So you just mean to you.

Johnny: Thanks. Feels good to be heard.

[incorrectoldgermanstoriesquotes]

Peter: We enter this world alone, we leave this world alone.

Kaspar: BUT IN BETWEEN WE'VE GOT SOUP!

[incorrect-hgs]

Snapdragon: Do you care what others think of you?

Amaryllis: Nope, they can think whatever they want about me!

Amaryllis: ...But if they express those thoughts I'll punch em' in the face.

Snapdragon: Wow, that was almost mature of you.

[konigbabe]

pearls before swine

DAY 6 ⇢ Monster-fucking Pairing: kitsune!Satoru Gojo x fem!reader Word count: 2.7k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; public sex; p-in-v; exhibitionism; dirty talk; hints of praise kink; manhandling; Gojo has a tale (nine of them altogether) and fangs; mention of blood/bleeding; Japanese mythology and folklore Summary: Visiting the Shinto shrine – somehow – leads to you getting wrecked by a mischievous trickster fox on an open balcony and with no shame. [Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023]. Divider is mine. Art credit goes to 月刺啾 (@/x2MciyELLRZRhg1) on Twitter [source].

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kitsune 狐 /kɪtˈsuː.neɪ/ noun; a Japanese fox spirit capable of shapeshifting into human form and are known to be cunning and playful, mysterious and malevolent.

You've heard the stories. Read about them. Creatures that use their shape-shifting abilities to take on human form and fool people into doing whatever they want. Tricking their prey into surrendering their deepest emotions and desires – the very essence of life itself.

In the midst of the Azalea festival, when the flowers are in full bloom – teal, lilac, and violet hues painting a pastoral picture – it's hard to find a quiet place. Especially near the main sanctuary of the Shinto shrine. Moving near the offering hall, that was when you first spotted him, towering over everyone.

He was standing beside a fox statue, arm draping over the sculpture's head, fingers as slender and agile as a ballet dancer's tracing the contours of the fox's snout. Your senses felt as though they were playing tricks on you as you watched his eyes – so pale they seemed to shimmer like a frozen lake, its lightness bordering on translucence – glide across the courtyard until they reached your kimono-clad body.

But it wasn't his demeanor – dismissive and blasé, laced with a hint of curiosity – that rendered you speechless. No. Rather, it was his appearance – a fusion of the human and the surreal. Japanese have a word for that: ‘yūgen'.

A shock of silver hair framed his face, its strands made of liquid mercury, catching the faint light of the morning sun. Yet, what truly seized your gaze were the symbols on his face – three sapphire tear-shaped drops gracing the lower edges of his almond-shaped eyes, a matching azure line tracing his waterline, gently extending beyond the corners of his eyes. Two cobalt dots adorned each corner of his upturned mouth, while another trio of sapphire lines adorned his forehead, with the middle one flowing onto the bridge of his sharp nose – reminiscent of the wind's delicate patterns. His skin porcelain-smooth and pale, accentuating the ethereal quality of his appearance.

And for some inexplicable reason, you appeared to be the only one capable of seeing him – it. Coming to a halt beneath the torii gate, he turned his head slightly, a strand of silvery hair cascading down over his left eye. The world around you seemed to hush, a stillness setting in; time itself stilling when his eyes locked onto yours from afar, leaving your lips parted in both awe and intrigue.

"You look so pretty," he murmurs, lips gliding over your neck, "when you're at my mercy."

The sharp sting of his fangs gliding under your ear, tracing the probing vein, causes goosebumps to form and travel along the spines of your arms and legs. You feel the warm hiss of his breath, the hot roughness of his tongue against your neck. Toes curling, feet dirty from the ground as the fox pounds into you. Hands gripping the wooden railing of the small balcony that overlooks a pond with koi fish swimming peacefully in.

You're not sure if someone has seen you yet. Seen the lewd image of getting fucked by someone – something – not entirely humane.

The sharp edges of his claws dig into your hips, kimono long discarded on the floor. Naked body swaying in the rhythm to the sharp thrusts. Softness melting into hardness. Satoru – his name echoed in your mind when his hand first touched your skin; as if you were already familiar with the fox – pulls you back to meet his hips, bare body dressed only in his haori, the same sapphire shade as his eyes, draped over his shoulders, arms hidden underneath the silken jacket.

Each stroke of his cock massages your walls, spreading apart the tender flesh between your legs. The ridge of his head presses up against that sweet spot deep inside you. Your thighs press together so you can feel it again. Little sparks of pleasure shoot through your body, making you moan as he brushes over everything that feels good.

"Huh–," his nails, razor-sharp and dangerous, rake over your abdomen. The palm presses flat against the contour of your tummy – hard – as if he's trying to feel how the tip of his cock bruises the opening of your cervix with each thrust. "Eeaasy now," his voice silky smooth just like his skin, "shush, we don't want anyone seeing you like this, right?"

A particularly loud moan emanates from your chest; his words drawn out by the pleasure surging through your veins. Mind feeling too good to be inhibited by anything else.

"Or do you want your friends to see you getting fucked by the devil like me," Satoru's tone lingers in the back of your head. The hand on your abdomen moving downward, toying with your clit. Rubbing circles before pressing against its sides.

You can feel him smile against your neck as he continues to thrust deep into you, each movement harder and faster than the last. His claws dig into your hips, biting into the skin there in a way that's both abrasive and soothing.

"I can't," the breath rushes out of you, leaving your head spinning and the earth swimming as Satoru pulls back to watch you clutch the railing. You're sure you're going to collapse at any moment, but you can feel him watching as your knuckles grind into the wood. Until he’s leaning in again, lips exploring your shoudlerblades,, "I can't–Satoru–hngh."

He's warm. The skin of his chest presses flat against your arching back.He turns his hips into you; the pressure mounts at your core, building up to a burning coil. Lewd sounds of skin slapping skin heating up your cheeks, burning your ears as shame tickles at the edges of your mind.

It's blaring. Flashy.

Loud.

"Hehe," he chuckles against your shoulder and you feel his teeth sink into the flesh there, careful not to puncture the delicate skin, "what pretty sounds we make."

And for a moment, you allow yourself to drown. To have the fox ravage you. Cock thrusting deep inside and with each withdrawal, your slickness sloshing out of you. Messy and wet. Coating your thighs in it. And yet it urges Satoru to go harder. Deeper.

Leaning over your body, his hands press along your ribcage before coming to rest on the tops of your shoulders. The weight of him feels like it's anchoring you in place – even though all he’s doing is encircling you with his arms and keeping no distance between your two bodies.

Thick white lashes that frame his eyes hide his true feelings while the half-smile playing on his lips remains unchanged.

His thumbs make tiny circles beneath your breasts, brushing across their undersides. A whimper escapes your lips when he pulls away, pulls out. The sudden emptiness prompting a muffled sound from the back of your throat – which earns you a playful slap on the curve of your ass.

"You're very loud, you know that?"

Satoru turns you around, hands remaining on your ribcage as he lifts you up effortlessly. Legs reflectively wrapping around his narrow hips, feeling his hipbones dig into the fat of your thighs. His presence suffocating the air from your lungs with a humid heat.

Your arms strain as you grip the railing behind you, body in the air while Satoru's arm supports your back, the other hand gripping his slick cock.

"It's not–agh," he pats your aching nub before gliding the tip over your slit, collecting the leaking wetness, "not like that."

He grins at you, eyes staring into yours with twinkles of mischief – or lust? – while smearing prespend over your swollen, empty hole.

"So you're not enjoying this," bending over you, kisses your nerves awake, his cheek nudges your head to the side so his lips can nibble at the taut skin of your jawline. And your eyes widen in shock.

People. More than a dozen people walking towards the chōzuya, a water well adjacent to the worship hall right next to the small sightseeing open building on which's balcony you're currently are in. Naked, legs wrapped around a kitsune, body completely exposed.

Just one look to the left is all anyone needs to do.

"Your body's burning," Satoru's breath scorches your ear. His cock, hard and pulsing, teases your entrance until it aches sweetly, "heh–want me to stop, pretty?"

"Ngh–" you shake your head, "don't stop."

"Good, now–," his lips graze yours the moment he slides the tip of his cock inside. Chest rambling with a sound distinctively similar to purring, "be a good girl and let me fuck you."

With that, he snaps his hips until he's buried inside of your cunt, filling you to the brink. Lowering his mouth to your skin, his fangs once again graze your shoulder blade; move alongside your clavicles until he reaches your sternum. Every deep exhale through his nose leaves an imprint on your flesh. It makes you feel like you're burning. Hot coals pressed against your skin.

His hands grip your ass. Kneading the flesh as he sets a relentless pace. Sinking deep inside with each drive of his hips.

Pushing yourself off the railing, you carefully swing your arms over his shoulders. Chest flush against his, you moan when your sensitive nipples graze the hard muscle of his torso.

"Ahh, Satoru–," your face buries in the mop of his hair when you feel his lips encircle your nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue over the mound as he drives his cock in and out of your cunt; so slick and dripping that you feel almost no friction altogether, "feels so good."

His teeth nip at the soft meat of your breast, nipple glossy with saliva as he moves his attention to the other one. You feel it then – or maybe it's been there the whole time – a brush against your thigh; initially thinking it to be his hand. Only they both lay flat against your ass. It's soft. Thick. Bushy. And it wasn't there before, yet it moves around you, slithers until it rests along the length of your thigh.

"You're taking me so well, pretty," his pelvis rubs your clit each time he bottoms out, moving you to sit on the old, creaky wooden railing, allowing his heads to roam your body – which he takes full advantage of – and only tightening the band inside your abdomen, "makes me not wanna feed."

His words fly over your head. Mind fuzzy and empty. Instead, you gasp for breath, the need for air becoming desperate as you clutch onto Satoru, whose relentless thrusts show no signs of faltering.

Toes twitching, your legs tremble around his hips. Moan after moan escaping your throat as your hips grind against his, a pathetic attempt to meet his harsh thrust and grind on his pelvis – to feel at least a tiny slither of pressure against your swollen bud – to which Satoru takes notice. Hand moving to your hip, he squeezes the flesh before moving his thumb over your clit, toying with it.

You feel another bushy tail slither onto your other thigh; it makes your eyes open. That's when you finally take notice of his full nature. He doesn't have actual tails. Instead, something vaguely resembling tails slithers from behind his back. Translucent with blueish hue. You're capable of seeing through them all. The same hue radiates from his skin, from the patterns decorating his face–

Satoru's lips continue their assault on your nipples as curiosity floods your veins.

–it's almost like small clouds taking shape, flying over his body. It's –

"Beautiful," you whimper, feeling him stir underneath your palms. The fox looks up, hips stilling with his full cock warm inside you.

"What did you say," he asks. Eyes leaving the image before you, you cup his face with one hand, locking your gaze onto his – fire meeting ice.

"I said that you're beautiful," your lips trace his nose, the tear-shaped drops underneath his eyes. The dot on the corner of his lips before grazing the soft plumpness of his mouth. It sends tingles through you. A jolt. As if you were touching a sacred artifact, fingers cautiously exploring every curve and contour of his face left behind.

Satoru's breath catches, and he closes his eyes, allowing your exploration to continue for a while.

"Hah," his lips catch yours, an arm sneaking around your middle to bring you closer, the thumb on your clit rubbing and flicking against the nerve, making you whimper into his mouth, "you're the pretty one," he mumbles against your mouth.

Slowly moving his hips back, you feel every ridge and contour of his cock against your insides until only the head remains locked in. Then he snaps. Pushes forward with a newfound fervor.

Satoru's tongue flicks over yours. Sweetness tinges your senses. Like ripe berries on a warm summer day.

"The tasty one," he pulls away, forehead resting against yours as he feels your cunt flutter.

The tension inside your abdomen grows. Coiling around your insides like a tautly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment. Every deliberate movement from him tightens the invisible band.

With each flick of his thumb, your breath hitches, body quivers in response, cunt tightening around him. Each stroke of his cock. Sharp tongue tracing a searing path over your fevered skin, igniting your senses with each pass. Satoru's focus shifts – from your jaw to your neck, to your sternum, leaving no inch untouched by his maddening touch.

His hand squeezes the pliant flesh of your ass, giving it a gentle slap every once in a while when his cock brushes your cervix. You plead for release, voice a breathless whisper against his mouth. His response a flicker of dominance, fingers teasing your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

"Satoru–mmph–so close," your lips seal over his marking, eyes squeezing shut to contain the overwhelming sensations, "m'gonna cum."

"Then cum," he encourages, his voice a seductive purr as he flicks your swollen clit, "wanna see the face you make, pretty."

The tension reaches its breaking point with the roll of his tongue over your lower lip. The invisible band stretched to its limit. Every sensation, every touch, and every word weaves together into a pool of desire. Making you teeter on the edge, held captive by his electrifying presence, until finally, with one last snap, the tension shatters like glass. The band snaps.

"Ah, Satoru–"

"Ugh–there we go," pain mixes with pleasure. Fangs sinking into your shoulder, his claws dig into the meat on your hips. It stings when your skin is raptured. Crimson beads trail down towards his pivoting hips, fucking you through the orgasm. Through the overwhelming pleasure. Through your body spasming, cunt contracting against his cock.

He doesn't stop.

Not until the world fades away.

(Guess you should have seen that coming. What is the saying? Never trust a fox.)

"Hey, c'mon. Wake up."

You sense hands on your shoulders, shaking you vigorously. As you reluctantly open your eyes, a familiar face hovers above you, bathed in a soft, afternoon light, accompanied by a group of others. Your friend gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, grounding you as you blink away the remnants of slumber.

Oh no.

Hastily lowering your gaze, relief washes over you when you realise you're fully dressed. But if you're fully dressed…

"What happened?" you croak, voice tinged with confusion, the world still hazy around the edges.

Nothing seems to add up right now.

"You tell me," your friend grins, their features coming into sharper focus as the surrounding crowd gradually dissolves. "You told me you were gonna buy some shinsen for the offering hall but you disappeared. An employee found you here," you scan your surroundings, recognizing the familiar balcony in front of you, "sleeping on a bench. Completely passed out. Out of it. She couldn't even wake you up."

Sleeping on a bench.

"Sorry," you mutter, fingers instinctively rubbing your eyes, senses now fully awakened.

Was it all a dream? "Guess I got tired."

It couldn't be a dream. Not when you push yourself to stand up and feel the strain in your legs. Stickiness. Slickness between your thighs.

"What's that?" your friend points towards your clenched fist. Opening your hand, palm up, both of you gaze at a small, iridescent bead with barely discernible sapphire swirls dancing across its smooth surface.

"Don't know."

"Looks like a fox's pearl. They sell those at the charm shop," your friend nods their head towards a nearby charm shop before both of you start walking. Time to go home.