#the others just need to feel more like themselves for me to like it

[alien-magnolia]

Smell

Tw: lots of SMUT little plot, dom!coded Logan and sub-coded/fem!reader, SIZEknk, primal!, ovulation and Logan’s sense of smell, possessive Logan, breeding!knk, Logan is rough!!

18+ MDNI

A/n: I want him so bad. Pls reblog if you like <3 xoxo, Liz

It’s been a long day for the both of you. Charles had wanted the two of you to tag along on a mission to Eastern Europe, bringing a supposedly dangerous mutant who planned to wreak havoc back to the mansion. It was a large effort bringing him back, yet you all did it.

It was your favorite moment of the day, as if right now. You and Logan got to retire to your shared quarters, and relax for a good day or more. You loved spending time with him, especially after a long day — when both of your frustrations needed to be let out.

He unlocks the door, lighting a cigar as he steps through the threshold. Your smaller arms snake around his broad back, pressing gentle kissed into his flannel. “What’s the matter, huh, sweetheart?,” he turns to you, flicking the cigar to the side of his mouth with his tongue. “Missed you, is all. Been a hard day, Lo. Let’s unwind,” you softly whisper, your hands coming up to touch his beard, the one you loved so much: (especially when the scruff of it brushed your soaking cunt <3..)

He smiles, large hands cup your smaller face, as he brings you closer for a forehead kiss. He pauses momentarily to smell the nape of your neck. “Missed me after spending the day with me, huh, kid?,” a knowing smirk creeps across his face. You nod your head vigorously. “Or are you jus’ ovulating?,” the question makes itself very known in the room.

Your cheeks heat up as you start to blush. He cocks his head, chuckling. “I know you well, sweetheart,” he tells you, looking over the pleading gaze you had on him as of now. “Can smell you, you know. You always smell so fuckin’ good when you’re ovulating,” he adds, eyes darker than they were before. You blush under his hard gaze.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna give you what ya’ need, though,” his gruff voice adds, sending shivers down your spine.

“What do I need, Lo?,” you ask, your small arms wrapping themselves around his broad, thick, muscular shoulders, your pretty and perky tits pressing up against his chest. He looks down at your face, then, at your tits, his hands move themselves from your face to your waist, his grip ironclad.

“You need my cock. S’alright, you just do what I say now, yeah?,” he asks, and you nod, oh so vigorously. His lips attack yours, as the two of them dance together, your lipgloss on his rough, slightly chapped — but soft lips. His beard tickled your soft cheeks, and you pressed yourself into him as tight as imaginable.

He pauses for a moment to inhale your scent again. “Fuck. You smell so sweet when you’re ovulating, you know that, yeah? Like it’s poison. That’s what you fuckin’ do to me,” he adds, almost snarling. “Wanna rile you up, Lo. Wanna be good for you, want you to hurt me,” you tell him, not even recognizing where all this was coming from. What was wrong with you? You were completely pliant for a man.

You wanted to be used by him. To feel ALL of his strength in each and EVERY possible way. You knew his abilities, you knew how animalistic he was when riled up. You wanted that Logan tonight. You’d let him scar you with his claws if he would: he would never, of course. He was insistently protective of you. That and your hormones: is what drove you to this state tonight.

You feel his hard on through his jeans , it's almost as if it was made of metal: (in a way it was.) His lips meet yours, pushing against you in a way that made your cunt throb, your soft lips and his rough ones danced together, as if glued. You loved how rough his beard felt on your face, and his neck smelled faintly of cigars. You hear a few grunts from him, his meaty hands coming up to grope and knead at your soft body.

His teeth clash against yours, the both of you were gravitating towards each other by some kind of invisible string or magnet. Your hands feel his heart, fast, through his wide chest. You loved that you never had to take off his shirt in moments like these. He never wore one. Around you, anyway.

You brush your pastel painted nails through his chest hair; coming up to smell it a little, rub your face against it. You wanted ALL of him; not only his cock.

He chuckles as you rub against his chest. “Aww. Goin’ all pathetic f’me, kid? Didn’t even start with you. Fuck.,” he growls, and pins you down onto the bed, your wrists above your head. A hard knee between your legs is used to spread them apart. Your arms — are still pinned to the bed, and his grip on your wrists is ironclad.

He’s on top of you, his hairy chest bearing a weight down on you, his soft lips nipping at your neck, at your tits, your soft belly. His beard tickles when he kisses down your stomach, lower, lower… he gets to your thighs, pressing a sweet and slobbery kiss to them, and starts attacking your nub, like it’s a hard candy, and he can’t get enough.

“Lo!! Lo!! You scream out, trying to get away from him. It was too much, you couldn’t!! You feel some of his claws come out, starting to pierce your thighs just a bit. You pull back, looking at him. He stares back, his gaze intense. “You want me to stop, baby?,” he asks, claws resting on your thighs. “No, no. I like it.,” you shamefully admit, your stomach dropping as he gazed at you, taking in your body as if it were a work of art.

He continues working you over, his tongue gentle yet powerful, your thighs getting red because of his abrasive beard. You feel your orgasm coming on, as a storm, and you try to pull away from him to lessen the intensity. His claws graze your soft skin as his iron grip pulls you right back. “Where ya think you going honey? Daddy’s not done here,” with that, his calloused hand slaps your roughed up cunt. You yelp, and he emits a burly, growled sort of chuckle. He goes back to slurping up your fluids like there is nothing left. You gush into his mouth, his beard now wet with your fluids.

He flips you over, his face pressing into your neck. “Fuck, so sweet…,” his heavily hooded eyes glaze over your face and neck, before taking a small bite into your jugular. He was your predator. You were under him, his prey, his for the taking, his to use.

Without another word, his mouth breathing hot and heavy near your panting face, your soft skin against his rough beard, his hands gripped you in place as he slid in. Bred you. Not a word. His hands began to hold you up by your neck, as if you were some kind of animal. His large heaving chest pressed into yours, his thick, pulsing cock stretched you so deliciously that it made your vision start to go.

“There you go, sweetheart. Take it. Fuck,” he growled, hands pinching and holding your soft skin. All his prey did was mutter and moan, and Logan, a man of few words, was satisfied. He had his girl under him, pliant, ready to be bred. And he did breed her. Hours and hours on end.

By the time Logan was done with you, you were both soaked in each other: literally and figureatively. He gently laid you on your back. “Lo,” you mutter, weakly, all your energy drained by your feral man. You’d let him kill you, even. You wanted to be used, to be his.

“Did so good f’me, little one. Let me get you all cleaned up. Don’t move, don’t want my girl tiring herself.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hey! I am almost certain you've done this prompt before, but may I request a villain saving the hero's life, and coming to the horrifying realization they don't hate the hero? I love your writing style btw. Thanks!

"You just saved my life."

"We don't need to make a big deal out of it. It's nothing."

Still, the villain stayed where they were. Pinning the hero to to the floor. The whole building in rubble and ruin around them. Their breath quick in their throat, their bodies pressed warm against each other. The villain's hand...the villain's hand rising to brush a smudge of dust away from the hero's cheek.

"Nothing?" the hero asked. Their voice came out breathless.

The villain swallowed. Their gaze raked over the hero. Their eyes were dark, agonised, a molten thing threatening to interrupt.

"You saved me for nothing?" the hero pressed. "You feel nothing."

"Don't."

The hero closed their eyes, briefly. Pained. Then they patted the villain in an indication that they get up, get back. Go back to everything that was normal between them. Still, the villain did not move. If anything, they only looked more agonised, more simmering.

Their fingers dragged down, dragging over the hero's bottom lip.

"You could have died." The villain's voice was harsh. "You're an idiot."

"Still here. You can probably hear my heart beating."

The villain's breath stuttered.

"...Do you want to feel?" the hero asked.

Slowly, so slowly, the villain's hand moved from where it braced to the ground to rest on the hero's chest. The thumping proof of life.

"There you go," the hero said. "Nothing."

"Fuck off."

"Thank you for saving me."

The villain made an angry sound in the back of their throat. Their nails dug in, half like they might carve the hero's heart in fury, half like they might scoop it out only to keep it save forever.

"You would have died." The villain's lips crushed against the hero's own. "God, I hate you. That would have been the stupidest reason to die!" Their lips trailed down the hero's throat, teeth digging in with a heated claim. "You're so stupid."

The hero curled their fingers in the villain's hair in wonderment. The villain's body was tense, taut. Another boiling thing.

It would be so easy to tip them over, then. To push the realisation from the villain's hungry lips, their ravenous and desperate eyes, to their voice. To make them say it.

Nothing.

They had never, for a second, been nothing.

But the villain had really thought that, hadn't they?

So the hero tipped their head back and made space, and they didn't push the villain away, and they made soothing sounds as the villain began, wretchedly, to sob.

"You're nothing," the villain said again, as if that might make it true. "Only nothing would nearly get themselves killed by a bloody building. Oh my god."

The villain's hand pressed against their chest.

They stayed in the rubble, even when the ambulances and the fire engines and the police cars all began to wail their way down the street, until the chaos beyond became unignorable.

The villain pulled back. Tears clung to the tips of their lashes; still more furious than anything else.

The hero's lips tingled with savage tender kisses.

They were alive, so stunningly, painfully alive.

"It's not nothing to me," the hero said. "For what's that worth."

The villain fled as the emergency services arrived on the scene.

[ssailormoonn]

❛ HIS SUBMISSIVE ❜

Nakahara Chuuya X Fem!Reader

WC; 1.7k + | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: x fem reader, piv, overstimulation, no protection, prone bone, cumming inside, be safe pls wrap bf u tap, use of plugs, teasing, pet names -> good girl, love, my good girl and prolly more, chuu being chuu + more

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) Hi, I was the one who sent the Chuuya or Obanai x Submissive reader and what I meant by that was that the reader would always do what they said and go along with them in a good way for like... s*x and stuff. Just always doing what wanted... sorry if that doesn't make sense!! - ANON

m.list | bsd m.list | port mafia m.list

Yokohama. It isn't a place new to you, it was the place where your man worked! But, not being an ability user and being quite timid and sweet, this wasn't the best place for a girl like you to be lingering around. You walked beside Chuuya, your steps falling into perfect sync with his despite his fast walking pace, you were trying your hardest to keep up.

Chuuya's hand rested possessively on your lower back, guiding you through the bustling streets, only so his pretty darling wouldn't get unfortunately lost in the crowd, he needs you with him despite him not saying it most of the time. You always followed him around anyway, listening to his every request. 

You and Chuuya had been on a date before he got an emergency call from his boss, telling him that there was a threat that only he could eliminate. 

Lies, of course. Mori just found pleasure in ruining his downtime with you. 

There was no doubt about it that Chuuya is confident, along with his quick thinking, which made you feel like you were the safest woman in the world. You doubt be as free as you wanted because you had a man there to do all the work for you, and he wouldn't want it any other way. 

"Stick close to me," Chuuya said in quite a harsh tone that almost made you flinch but you pushed it down, knowing that it was only because he was pissed off with Mori. 

However, his words and tone somehow reassured you as you knew that he loved and cared about you, especially knowing that he loves spending time with you. But he was also reassuring you, he knew that you would fall into danger if you wandered too far away from him. You had a special role tonight, you were helping him with a mission to which you agreed to way too quickly. 

You can't say no to him.

There was no need for any words to express how compliant you are, your actions spoke got themselves.

The two of you entered a dimly lit warehouse. Chuuya's gaze swept across the space, analysing every detail, making sure that there was nothing that could hurt you. You followed his every move, and your trust in him was absolute. 

Chuuya's voice cut through the silence. "We're dealing with a group that's trying to disrupt our operation. They're likely armed and dangerous. We need to be ready for anything."

You took a deep breath, adjusting the strap of your bag that held a few essentials—an assortment of gadgets and tools you both might need, but mostly lipgloss, that was what filled ninety per cent of your bag, lipgloss. 

He turned to you, his expression serious but he softened when he saw the fear in your eyes. "I want you to stay behind me and keep an eye on our six. If anything goes wrong, I need you to trust me and follow my lead. Can you do that?"

"Okay," you replied, your voice steady despite the fear coursing through your veins. 

You stepped back slightly, positioning yourself as instructed. The trust between you and Chuuya was unspoken but deeply ingrained. You were his shadow, his support, and in return, he was your anchor, providing you with the safety and confidence you needed.

Suddenly, a burst of gunfire erupted from the other side of the warehouse. Chuuya's instincts kicked in immediately, and he pulled you behind a stack of crates for cover. You pressed yourself close to him, the heat of his body against yours providing a comforting warmth.

"We need to move," Chuuya said, his voice low and urgent. "Follow my lead and stay down."

You nodded, your eyes meeting his with a shared understanding. As he moved forward, you trailed behind him, your senses heightened and every nerve on edge. Chuuya's movements were fluid and precise as he engaged with the enemy. You moved with him, your every action synchronized with his, providing support where needed and staying vigilant.

Chuuya turned to you, his breathing heavy. He placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch reassuring. "Good job. You stayed focused and followed through perfectly."

You smiled up at him relief in your eyes. "I wouldn't have been able to do it without you."

He gave a small, approving nod. "That's what I'm here for. But it's nice to know you trust me enough to follow my lead. It makes everything a lot easier."

Chuuya pulled you close, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. The danger had passed, and now it was just the two of you, standing together amongst the... dead people on the floor, how romantic.

"You're incredible, you know that?" Chuuya said, his voice softer now, filled with genuine warmth. "I don't say it enough, but I appreciate everything you do."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned into him. "I'm just glad I can be here with you, doing what I can to help."

Chuuya's expression softened further. "And I'm glad to have you by my side. It means more than you know."

And that's how you ended up beneath Chuuya, like always, him praising every minuscule part of your body. Although... that didn't mean he wasn't so mean to you.

Your breath was ragged as Chuuya's throbbing cock is nudged so deeply in your spongey walls. His length getting squeezed by every ridge within your soaked cunt. A moan left both of your mouths as Chuuya's length nudged the deepest spot within you.

"Look how you take me in," Chuuya grunts. "Such a good little girl, my girl." 

You sigh in pleasure at the degradative praise, he knew that you loved to be worshipped in an abasement way, you savoured his words struck him so deeply. In a way he never wanted to call you anything else.

But he didn't move, he wanted to relish in on how you desired to cause friction, desired to move against his touch, but couldn't. Chuuya's cock, prodded so deep in your gummy walls that you whimpered in pleasure, but that didn't stop him from not moving. He was still snug inside.

Hot and heavy kisses trail down from your ear down to the dip of your neck to shoulder and a breathless sigh escaped your parted lips before Chuuya rolled his hips into yours. A moan slips out of your mouth, his thick length scraping all the sensitive parts of your warm insides.

Chuuya's knees spread your legs apart so that any advances from you ensured that they would be shut down, so that you remained situated below him, your pretty body that paled in comparison to his big frame. As he expected, you couldn't move from his trapping embrace.

His movements became faster, his cock thrusting into the depths of my needy hole as strained moans and whines left your throat. Chuuya was panting in your ear and an occasional deep groan slipped past his lips, the sounds which made your cunt flutter tightly around his length.

Chuuya was filling me up to the hilt, his throbbing pink tip hitting that soft, gummy spot in my cunt that caused me to scream out in fulfilment. "I know baby, I'm listening," He breathed, causing you to let out a moan and sigh, body shaking with pleasure. "Found it haven't I?" Chuuya smirked.

Your body tried to arch away from the pleasure, not being able to take the strong rolls of Chuuya's hips, but as you arched your back away, his thrusts only aimed deeper, harder into your G spot. 

"Y-yeah," you sobbed out, tears filling your lash line. "B-but... Too much, 'Chuu. Slow down, too much."

"Oh?" he smirked, his hips moving now at a faster pace, loving how your cunt squeezed his cock even though you wanted him to slow down, how contradicting he thought your words were, you were denying your body the release that you so desperately needed. "Looks like your pussy is saying something else," Chuuya added.

Repetitive moans left your mouth while he pounded into your tight heat. You suddenly had the instinctive urge to press yourself into his length, but you couldn't, his weight was too heavy for you to move against him, and you were utterly hopeless as his thrusts became faster.

"Please, I wanna come," you cry out mewling. "So big, you feel so big, Chuuya."

Your body trembled beneath him and the hold he had on your hands loosened. Your hips were getting held, then, the strength he possessed lifted you onto your knees before a bicep wrapped around your throat, lifting your head. It wasn't a tight grip but the power lifted your head from the futon while you shakily rested your weight on your elbows.

Your back arched heavily, finally being able to sink more into him. Chuuya hunched over you, pulling you closer to him and connected your mouth in a sloppy, wet kiss, forcing his tongue inside your mouth, grunting into you while he swallowed your moans. "Good girl, taking me so deep," Chuuya groaned, pulling away from your mouth and pushing this arch into your back deeper.

"'Wanna come, please," you beg, wanting to feel the release, desperate as the tears stream down your flushed cheeks. "Want it so bad."

You clench around his length as he increases his pace, instantly accommodating to the speed but your moans escalate. "Such a good girl," He leaned down and mumbled in my ear chased with a deep moan that stirred my insides clenching around his length. "C'mon, how much you want it?" Chuuya rasps in your ear.

"Want it so bad!" you whimper, unable to comprehend any thoughts that swelled into your head. "Please, please, please."

"Yeah?" Chuuya replies groans interrupting his speech, but it made his stomach and balls tighten, wanting to fill up your cunt with his seed.

"Please, I wanna come," you moan.

"Go ahead," he growled and you spasmed around his length as your high washed over you, your legs shaking as his weight pressed down even more than it was. His thrusts didn't slow causing you to whimper in overstimulation, but Chuuya helped it, his hips continuing to rut into mine, helping me ride out my orgasm as he chased his own.

With a groan, his lips planted against mine once again as his hips slammed into mine, hard, his cum spilling inside me causing me to moan into his kiss. Chuuya slipped his softening length out, and pulled away from the kiss as you slumped to the bed, his eyes chained to the white splotches of silky come that spilled from your gaping cunt.

"Aren't ya' so cute," Chuuya teases, pushing his fingers into your cunt, causing you to lurch forward.

"Chuu!" you wimper out.

"Shhhh, my sweet," he coos before you felt something cold and big slid into your cunt. "Gonna make sure none of me slips out of you."

"What are you doing?" you whimpered out.

"Making sure you're all plugged up," Chuuya mumbles agasint the shell of your ear.

You huffed. "Didn't even ask me."

"You would've said yes either way, love. You can't say no to me."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | bsd m.list | port mafia m.list

[entirelysein-e]

『 Like a god 』

☼ synopsis: worshipping tengen felt like a privilege to you, your body resting on the floor between strong thighs while your mouth showed him a piece of heaven.

☼ character: Tengen Uzui

☼ wc: 1.8k

☼ cw: gn!reader, oral (reader giving), pet names, body worship on Tengen, sloppy head, orgasm denial, cum eating

☼ notes: it started out as headcanons but I love sucking dick too much it seems.... || requested by @teddybeartoji 🫶 || Taglist

Feeling your lips melt against his was one of Tengens favorite feelings. The way your body rested against his, the weight resting on his lap while your upper body leaned into his. He swore up and down that this is the way he wanted to leave this world, wrapped in your embrace and every sense flooded with nothing but you. Your hands in his hair, your hands against his chest, arms looped around his body - as long as you threw yourself at him, he didn't care for anything else.

His lips against yours felt like the silence around the two of you exploded in colors that show in front of your closed eyes, every thought got erased from your mind and got replaced by nothing but him. His lips melting with yours almost drowned out the feeling of his strong hands running up your spine beneath your shirt, eliciting goosebumps in their wake until they tangled in your hair. Hands grabbing fists full of your hair, harsh but gentle at the same time to pull you closer, your kiss like oxygen to him until the taste of his becomes yours too.

Pulling back, Tengen barely registered the words you told him, eyes half lidded and glossed over from the way your love affects him.

"Hm?" He asked loopy, his mind still hazy from the kiss the two of you just shared, but you didn't feel like repeating yourself, far too worked up from feeling him harden beneath you.

Without another word, you ground your hips against his, a desperate whimper escaping your throat when you brushed against his bulge, hard and begging to be touched.

"My god... I want to give you what you deserve," you muse, loving to see his yes sparkle whenever you call him your god. But it was true, Tengen's love gave you salvation like no other, your mind at peace whenever you're with him and you never failed to make him feel like anything less than a god with the way you worship him.

Soft lips connect with the sensitive skin of your neck, open-mouthed kisses placed on your pulse point until he bit ever so gently, wanting to get a reaction out of you. The bite made you moan quietly and your hips jerked into his, your core desperate for any kind of friction at this point and you could feel him smirk against your throat.

Big hands held your hips in a firm grip as he guided your movement, dragging you along his clothed erection and you could feel how breathing got harder and harder until he was groaning against your skin, growing equally needy for release. But this wasn't what you wanted when you decided to sit on his lap just minutes ago - you were craving more, your mouth growing lonely with the absence of his cock on your tongue.

Detaching your lover from your neck, you carefully slid yourself from his lap to kneel on the floor between a pair of strong thighs that were spread wide, leaving nothing to the imagination as your hands raked over his inner thighs and to the top of his pants. It was like unwrapping a gift every time, excitement written over your face as you shed the layers of clothes from what you desired.

Tengens cock stood proudly, resting against his defined abs the moment his hips sat back down onto the surface beneath. He was crafted by the gods themselves, every muscle of his body beautifully defined, flesh carved immaculate like marble beneath your eager fingers, tracing every ridge with nails and watching him shudder from the feeling.

"Touch me, my sweet," he hummed, hips raising slightly to punctuate where he needs your touch, but you wanted to take your sweet time with him, worshiping him in a way a god deserves.

Your lips started to press kisses from his knees, over his thighs and hip bones, all the way to his navel, just to trail down but never quite reaching the spot where he needed you most. It gave you a feeling of power, watching Tengen squirm and lose control until he begged for your love, for the pleasure only you know how to provide.

"Please... been thinking about your sweet lips all day," his voice started to sound strained and as much as he needed you, he would never make you please him. Strong thighs started to tremble when you bit his left thigh, far too close to his balls, but you had him right where you wanted.

The god of flashiness was putty in your palms, yours to mold, yours to play with and you would enjoy every second of the pleasure you would so generously give to him. Slowly, your tongue darted out to give a playful lick to his balls before kissing them ever so gently, feeling them twitch against your lips with every kiss. His hand grabbed a fist full of your hair once again, needing to hold onto you - onto anything really - to keep him grounded since you were driving him insane with just your kisses. Meanwhile, your hands started kneading and massaging Tengen’s strong thighs and when your eyes drifted upwards to see his reaction, you were met with a sight that's far beyond ethereal.

Tengen looked down at you as if you put every star in the night sky to shame, his brows knitted together and lips parted ever so slightly to let those little pants out that sounded an awful lot like a repetition of "please." It made you take pity on the man, your tongue slowly trailing up from his heavy balls all the way to the tip of his pretty cock, where you swirled your tongue to lap up the beads of precum that have gathered there. You didn't think his face could get any prettier, but when you wrapped your lips around just the tip, you moaned at the sight in front of you. To reward him, you sunk down all the way, welcoming his cock inside your throat while you buried your nose in the neatly trimmed bush at the base.

Tengen’s hands moved from your hair to hold the armrests of the chair he was seated on, knuckles almost white from how hard he held onto them. You never failed to take his breath away when you kneeled down for him, worshiping his cock as if this would be the last time you'd get to do this. You looked so in love with him, eyes fluttering close when you moan and whimper around his dick, hands holding onto his thighs as if he would disappear if you'd let go. The weight of him felt heavy on your tongue and you swore you could feel him in the pits of your stomach with how deep he was, but your thighs trembled with need upon tasting the salty taste of precum melt on your tongue. It was your personal heaven.

As you continue to please and serve your lover, giving him your all, you could feel him twitch on your tongue and inside your throat. Panic rushed over you and you quickly pulled away to squeeze the base of his cock with your hand, ruining his orgasm by stopping it before it had even started.

“Not yet… need more,” you whisper and kiss along his inner thighs with your slightly swollen lips. Despite the hiss that escaped his throat, he couldn't even say anything in return. Watching you pull away, a string of saliva still connecting your lips to his cock almost made him release despite the tight grip you had on him. Your spit was slowly running down his shaft and dripping off his heavy balls, collecting in a small puddle beneath, but neither of you seemed to mind, the sloppy head causing both of your heads to spin, both wanting more and so you leaned in. Your lips kissed along his shaft a second time, stopping just below his tip to suckle on the glands, your tongue dancing over his frenulum before pulling away entirely again to rest your head against his right thigh.

“Fuck.. why'd you stop?” He groaned, which only made you giggle. He was so desperate like this, allowing himself to be vulnerable, to become putty in your palm, but once more you took pity on him and stroked his length - an action mistaken for pity by your lover, but he should have known better.

Your touch disappeared as fast as it appeared, leaving his balls to contract, his dick starting to ache from how it twitched upon getting a second orgasm denied.

“Please… please, I need- my sweet. Please.” His begging sounded mindless at this point and neither of you were sure what he was begging for at this moment. Did he want more? Did he want you to stop? His desperate pleas were music to your ears, watching his hips buck up and fucking the air was the most divine view anyone could have set their eyes on and you leaned back in. This time you took pity on the man before you, craving to taste him on your tongue as much as he craved you. Tengen’s breath hitched when your lips wrapped around him once more and your name fell like a sinful prayer from his lips, bouncing off the wall and melting with the lewd sounds of your mouth bobbing up and down his impressive length.

The moment his high crashed over the man, his hips shot up, a loud moan leaving him with pure pleasure. Your hand reached to fondle his balls, the feeling of them emptying felt so good against your palm as you collected his release on your tongue just for the last spurt to paint your pretty lips in pretty ivory. This was his favorite part, seeing you enjoy what he gave to you. With a sweet smile, you lolled out your tongue to show him his hot release resting on your tongue before swallowing it all and licking your lips clean until every last drop was gone.

Unsure what it was about this act, Tengen moaned at the sight, knowing you worship him and take everything he gives to you, eagerly swallowing every drop of his release - it made him fall deeper in love with you every time. And without any hesitation, your lover pulled you back onto his lap, a strong hand resting on the back of your neck when his lips crashed into yours, once again melting against one another and he had to correct his previous thoughts.

Feeling you melt against his lips was Tengen's second favorite feeling - Tasting himself on your tongue must be the best feeling a man could experience.

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

logan howlett x asexual!reader

notes: fluff, mentions of sex, kissing, nuanced take on asexuality.

It took you a long time to say yes to going out with Logan.

And it wasn’t simply a case of you ‘playing hard to get’. You have no desire to be a fling. Sure, you recognize that objectively, he is hot! And you think to yourself, maybe you’d give him a shot if he didn’t just want to sleep with you.

So, for months, he pines. And it’s a rather new experience, he’s used to people just throwing themselves at him after a few flirty conversations, but it takes almost four months for you to even agree to go out with him.

When you do, he makes sure to put in his best effort—You two go out to a really nice dinner, and then you go on this long drive to a cliff side, and you lean against his motorcycle, holding hands as you look to the stars.

His heart thumps as your thumb gently rubs against his knuckles.

So the two of you date—

You kiss, you eat lunch together, you spend long nights with your hands running through his hair, reading to him.

But you don’t sleep with him.

He thinks maybe it’s a religious thing or maybe some weird fetish, like you think waiting will make it even better. But he doesn’t ask you about it, because he remembers how long it took you to go out with him, so he keeps it to himself.

Until one day, about seven months into your relationship.

The snow whirls outside the X-Mansion, the wind rattling your windows, as you curl up in bed, wrapped in his flannel, a couple of blankets and his arms.

“Can I ask you a question, Spitfire?” He wonders.

“Anything.” You answer, meaning it whole heartedly.

The Wolverine feels himself get nervous before he asks,

“Why haven’t we had sex yet?” He asks, and you take a minute. You knew the conversation would happen eventually. Logan isn’t your first boyfriend, so you know that the people you’re with are owed an explanation. And you brace yourself—If he isn’t willing to listen to you on this, you’re ready to walk away.

You sit up so you can be looking at him—It’s rather intimate.

“I’m Asexual.” You answer.

A beat.

“A sexual what?”

You laugh a little, mostly because you think it’s silly, especially considering Logan isn’t straight (you see how he’s looked at Scott).

“No, Asexual—It means I experience little to no sexual attraction,” You answer, and he tilts his head.

He’s committed a lot of time to you already. The explanation sort of scares him, and he’s ready to run away but he stays put, not wanting you to think he can’t handle whatever it is you’ve just thrown at him—But he was born in the early 1800’s. Have a bit of grace for the man.

“Okay, What does that mean, though?” He asks, and you’re grateful he hasn’t broken up with you yet.

“So, I.. I really like you. I mean—I love you, Logan.” You confess, “But sex just.. isn’t something I need, especially not often. I get horny, It’s just.. Sex is different for me. I like making out with you, kissing you, touching you—and there might be times where I do want to have sex with you, probably to show my affection and grow closer to you—Sex isn’t procreation or pure pleasure to me, it’s something that I only like to do every once in a while and I do it as a way to get closer to whoever I love. Does that make sense?”

Logan nods. It does make sense—Sex isn’t your thing. And he knows historically, he’s been passed around by the other x-men like a blunt, but in dating you for a while, since you two haven’t slept together, he’s much more okay with that being more rare.

Sure, you’re both attracted to each other, and like you said, making out is really nice, but..

“Yeah.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Well, I just..” he takes your hands in his, trying to convey what it is he wants to communicate. “We’re more than just dating. At least to me. No one’s ever been in my corner like you, and.. I don’t just look at you in a physical manner, I.. I look over my shoulder for you when I see something stupid or fun, because I want to share everything with you. I know it’s been rocky at times, but..” He clears his throat. You see tears well in his eyes and you just smile, your hand detaching from his to wipe a tear that runs down his face.

“I know.” You say softly, and he smiles.

“I don’t need sex to love you.” He tells you. He kisses you gently and asks, “Don’t feel like that’s ever something I need, okay, spitfire?”

“Okay, Claws.”

//i don't know what else to say about this other than i know i write smut often and graphically but i am in fact asexual, so i wanted to throw my hat in the ring for writing not only a queer reader but a reader who is asexual. you deserve a place in fanfiction too. also, readers description of asexuality is based off my own, so please remember that asexuality isn't a one size fits all thing.

[vrystalius]

I've been wanting to send in this ask from quite a while , could i please request reader x kyojuro where they were talking about his late mother and the reader holds him the same way his mother did when he was younger unknowingly to comfort him , thank you for reading ! take care <3

Kyojuro being held.

Hugging and offering your comfort to Kyojuro after finding him in front of Ruka’s shine.

Pairing: Kyojuro x gn!reader

Kyojuro makes sure to pray for his mother before heading out on missions. Senjuro makes sure to keep the shrine clean and tidy when his older brother is away, dusting off every surface and repositioning the portraits of Ruka to face the house properly, and Kyojuro appreciates it greatly. It’s comforting to him to just kneel down onto the soft pillow in front of the carefully chiseled shrine, to light some incense and mutter quiet prayers under his breath while bowing his head. It always feels like Ruka’s watching over him and making sure he, his little brother and father are doing fine. Although his father could use a little more watching and maybe some divine scolding from his mother.

He was just about to grab his sheathed katana and prepare to head out when Kyojuro felt a warm hand touch his back and slowly wrap around his shoulders. Turning his head to check to was pulling him into their embrace was not needed, he knew it was you.

“My love, you’re here. Would you like to get to know my mother a little? I realised I barely speak of her.”

Kyojuro had a small smile on his face that had a tinge of sadness to it. You scooted a little closer, sitting right next to him as he took one of the flowers that were placed into Ruka’s favourite vase and handed it to you.

“It was her favourite flower. I remember my father bringing home a new batch everytime he returned from a mission. Senjuro liked knocking the vases over, so father always made sure to put them out of his reach. They always died so quickly ever since mother got sick, father forgot to change the waters every time.”

His smile brightened slightly while watching you twirl and inspect the flower in your hand. Kyojuro’s gaze lifted and he looked at your face as a whole, brushing his fingers across your cheekbones and cheeks.

“My mother would’ve loved you. You’re so sweet and kind to me, always waiting up on me into the middle of the night to greet me, and you always spoil me with your cuddles and cooking. You’re almost heavenly sent!”

Realising what he said, his smile softened again. Kyojuro scooted closer to you and gently wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Perhaps my mother sent you.”

He mumbled into your shoulder, his hold getting tighter. He shivered slightly when one of your arms gently wrapped around his shoulders, your other arm resting on his broad shoulders and running through his bright locks. Kyojuro sighed deeply and closed his eyes, melting against your touch.

Just for a split second he was back in Ruka’s arms, listening to her voice and how he should use his strength to protect others who cannot do it themselves. You two remained like this for what felt like an eternity, and he was never planning on letting go. But after opening his eyes and pulling away from your gentle hug, he was just staring into your eyes, being reminded once again why he wants to propose to you so badly.

“I didn’t think I needed that hug but I seemingly did. Thank you.”

Kyojuro sighed and stood up, brushing off some dust off his pants and offering you a hand to stand back up.

“I believe I can postpone my mission for a little longer. I’ll move during nightfall, that way we can spend more time together. Would you like to hear more about my mother? We can help my little brother prepare dinner meanwhile, I’m sure he’d like to hear about mother a little too!”

💠

Thank you so much for requesting!! Hope you enjoyed it, anon! I just love writing about cuddles and holding, running fingers through hairs and just soft fluff. Maybe because I’m often tired and want to be treated like that XD

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

[wilcze-kudly]

Katara and the fear of loss (aka why she waited)

I think one aspect of Katara's storyline I don't see explored nearly enough the fact that she is terrified of losing others, especially those whom she cares for. This makes sense, especially looking to her background, how the death of her mother affected her and the fact that war has been a very large part of her life since she was a small child. Not to mention, she is actively a huge part of said war, along with her brother and friends, at the tender age of 14.

Now, some of you may ask "quill what the hell does Aang have to do with Katara's mother?"

Yes, on the surface, there isn't that much connecting Katara's dead, grown ass mother to Katara's alive 12 year old goofball bf but the parallels between Kya and Aang are planted even at the beginning of the show, in the first few episodes.

When Zuko and the Fire Nation attack the Southern Watertribe, they are looking for Aang, the last airbender, not dissimilar to the Southern Raiders looking for the last Southern waterbender. Furthermore, both Kya and Aang willingly give themselves up to the Fire Nation in order to protect the village, particularly Katara.

Throughout the show, we see Katara's interest and endearment towards Aang grow, and we see them create a genuine friendship. But I'd argue that Aang being the Avatar is, to some degree, a problem to their relationship. Aang's duty as the Avatar, and the risks and decisions he is faced with due to it, often create a rift between him and Katara.

Be it due to Aang's responsibilities leading him to make decisions she doesn't agree with, like in the Avatar State, where Aang feels the pressure to force the Avatar State due to the suffering of the soldiers he feels responsible for.

Or, more poignantly, in the Awakening, where Aang is once again compared to one of the parents Katara lost due to the war, though Hakoda's 'loss' was not due to death, but a need to fight. I think this also shows how much Katara values Aang not just as the Avatar, but as a person.

Katara: Aang. He just took his glider and disappeared. He has this ridiculous notion that he has to save the world alone, that it's all his responsibility. Hakoda : Maybe that's his way of being brave. Katara: It's not brave; it's selfish and stupid! We could be helping him, and I know the world needs him, but doesn't he know how much we need him, too? How can he just leave us behind? Hakoda : You're talking about me too, aren't you?

This is twice Aang has been directly paralleled to one of Katara's parents, whose repsective losses have clearly affected her greatly. This is also extremely poignant, since we've been explicitly told that Aang's love for his own lost family, the Air Nomads, was reborn into Katara. For Aang and Katara, the ways they deal with their losses influences how they pursue each other romantically.

Of course, there's also the ✨️ immediate threat of death and physical injury✨️. Aang and the rest of the Gaang, but particularly Aang is constantly being chased and tracked and endangered by the Fire Nation and he is meant to face the Firelord and defeat him. There are a lot of possibilities for something to go horrifically wrong here.

From Aang being half dead when Katara found him, then almost immediately getting kidnapped by the prince of the goddamn Fire Nation, to almost every villain of the week shenanigan, Katara already has good reason to worry for Aang.

But then the reach Ba Sing Se and things get even worse. Jet, Katara's only other canonically confirmed love interest dies, and Katara is helpless to do anything about it. This is already enough to make someone reconsider future romantic endeavours, but surely it can't get any worse, right?

Oh yeah, Aang FUCKING DIES

He gets blasted in the back with lighting, right as he enters the avatar state, right before Katara's eyes. The saviour of the world, but more importantly, her dear friend, brutally cut down before her very eyes. And Katara, a child, is the only person with even a sliver of hope of bringing him back.

So is it really any surprise that Katara, having experienced loss before multiple times over, and almosf having lost Aang himself, would be hesitant to enter a romantic relationship with someone being actively hunted by the greatest military in the world, someone obligated to take on the leader of said military?

Katara is afraid. She's afraid of opening her heart up to loving Aang and then losing him after that. This is the main reason why she hesitates in initiating her and Aang's relationship. Whenever Aang tries to brooch the subject, she brings up the war and the Firelord, but due to being a child, she struggles in communicating her exact feelings, which leaves Aang confused and of kilter. Katara often gives Aang romantic attention, and clearly feels rather possessive of him, however, she is not ready to enter a romantic relationship due to the threat of the war looming above their heads. But due to being 14, she doesn't know how to explain these feelings, which is what leads to the minor conflict between her and Aang. Because, you know, they're both children in a situation that children aren't built to deal with.

Katara : Aang, I don't know. Aang: Why don't you know? Katara : Because, we're in the middle of a war, and, we have other things to worry about. This isn't the right time.

It's important to note that Aang isn't exactly a bad person for wanting this relationship to be made tangible. He does push boundaries, and kissing Katara without her consent in the Ember Island episode is obviously a horrendous misstep (which he acknowledged), but I think you can at least understand his motives. He may soon die, after all, and he wants to love Katara and wants to express that love before he possibly loses his entire goddamn life. I think this can also be traced back to how Aang deals with the genocide of the Air Nomads and vs how Katara deals with the death of her mother.

Aang certainly blames himself for the death of the Air Nomads, although this guilt is unfounded. Perhaps part of him believes that if he'd just stayed with them, spent a little more time with Gyatso, he could've helped them. It wouldn't be a leap to imagine that Aang wanting to spend more time with those he loves, including Katara is a coping mechanism surrpunding that loss.

Now juxtapose this to Katara, who's entire encounter with Yon Rha is permeated by helplessness and fear, an 8 year old Katara being unable to do anything but run away and try to get help, sadly not in time for Kya to survive. So Katara trying to assert some control over her relationships, maintaining a certain distance to Aang while the war that robbed her of her mother is still in full swing isn't an improbable concept. She's trying to not feel that helplessness again.

(Katara probably blames herself for her mother's death too, but it has less to do with Katara's actions and more to fo with what Katara was; a waterbender, something she hasno bearing on)

This is why she initiates the kiss with Aang at the end of the show. Not because she feels the need to give in to his advances due to him being the hero of the world. Not because she's caving to his insistence or because she's pressured. But because the possibility of Aang getting fucking murked by glorified pyromancers are significantly lower than they were during the war.

This is not a 'taking one for the team bcs I feel like I have to due to Aang saving the world' type of smooch. This is a 'finally I feel safe to express my feelings' type of smooch.

To be completely honest, I don't like how Kataang was handled post day of black sun, I think it was an unnecessary addition of a redundant "will they, won't they?" aspect to the relationship. Teasing Zutara in the last few episodes was also just unnecessary, because it was obviously never a viable endgame relationship and it only served to give kid zutara shippers false hope. This is especially fucked up looking at how the same zutara fans were later mocked by the creators, which, no matter what you think if the ship, is a horrible thing to do to a bunch of teenage girls and I think has contributed to those teenage girls growing into bitter, aggressive adult zutara shippers.

But, as much as I dislike this storyline, it does make sense for Katara's character and is an interesting and touching 'silent arc' for her to have. We often see characters fall in love in the midst of a conflict, but we aren't always shown how that conflict would affect the way they look at their relationship, so I appreciate this storyline for what it was.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Author....Halloween is the only time where the dead can go to the realm of the living as in they became more y'know physical as in people can see and interact with them...

Ghost reader watching over dipper,mabel and their friends going on trick or treating and they still refuse to see stan and ford (they're just making those 2 more miserable) but when the townsfolk see them they want to thank them but couldn't shake their hands or hug them but reader can touch them without a problem

I can just imagine that the townsfolk’s has a memorial or a statue dedicated to you, whatever for it can be up to interpretation.

So when you were watching over Dipper, Mabel, Candy and Grenda as they wandered down the decorated streets of gravity falls in their colourful costumes.

dipper and Mabel decided to dress up as salt and pepper.

Candy dressed up as candy

Grenda dressed as a princess from a show she was into currently.

They all looked fabulous and adorable that it made you wish that you were still alive to take a picture of them, but you were more then content to settle with supervising them as they went from door to door collecting treats.

Obviously you were aware that this was the only day where you could actually interact with anyone of the living realm but still you were adamant in keeping yourself away from Ford and Stanley, whom were also chaperoning the kids for once. However you also manage to catch one or two groups of people looking over at you and whispering amongst themselves for one of them to go up to you. Looks like they could see you even if you did try to hide but thankfully Ford and Stan were out of earshot when one brave soul did managed to walk up to you with a gleam in their eyes.

‘Hi! I just wanted to thank you for saving all of us and all…such a tragedy what happened to you though…’ the young woman trailed off as she looked over at the monument that mayor Fiddleford had commissioned for you personally, the hero of gravity falls they called you and according to candy and Grenda, you were being taught to kids in history lessons at school.

Which you were very touched by, but thought was unnecessary.

‘It’s fine, I just done what needed to be done for the betterment of everyone.’ You told them.

‘Even if it meant loosing everything?’ The young woman inquired.

You looked over at Dipper and Mabel who were waving happily in your direction, followed shortly by everyone else, you smiled at them before you looked back at the young woman. ‘I was more then willing to loose everything if it meant seeing everyone embrace a brighter future because of it.’ You replied with the shrug of your shoulders.

The young woman smiled ‘I would ask for a hug but…’ she trailed off and you couldn’t help but laugh as you pulled the woman into your arms, patting her back reassuringly.

‘It’s perfectly fine! Besides you can’t fully embrace me but I can perfectly embrace you to make up for it.’ You told her as you pulled away, seeing tears shine in her eyes. ‘It’s going to be okay.’ You add. ‘We made it.’

‘You saved the town for us.’ She whispered, ‘I just wish there was more we could’ve done-‘ you put your hands on her shoulders and squeezed.

‘I did save the town, so please treasure it where I cannot okay? That’s all I ask.’ You tell her and the woman smiled at you.

‘Okay.’ She said, ‘I will.’

‘Good, now have a happy Halloween kid.’ You told her as you gently pushed her towards her group of friends, watching as she rejoined the group with a bright smile and walk down the road as she told her eager friends, who looked about ready to clamour over the others just to hear of her brief interaction with you.

‘Great uncle/aunt y/n!’ Dipper cried.

‘Come on we’ve got more houses to rob of candy!’ Mabel added and you couldn’t help but laugh as you walked towards the kids, feeling in content with the fact that Gravity Falls was going to be okay without you.

Unknowing of the fact that Ford and Stan were paying respects at your grave by putting down flowers that Ford has picked up from another dimension during his thirty years, flowers that glowed a beautiful blue/red/purple colour.

‘Happy anniversary old friend.’ Ford said as he puts down the last of the flowers. ‘Wish you would reveal yourself to us so that we can apologise, but I respect your wishes if you don’t for I don’t blame you and hope you’ll rest peacefully knowing that the town is thriving because of you.’

‘You’re a true hero, and we’re the idiots.’ Stanley adds just as a particularly cold breeze brushed past them both.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

More sugarbaby reader! For logan? I love how sweet and caring you write him in that verse while still being gruff, maybe how they met or how she gets along with the other people Logan knows?

When he walked into the jewelry store a bit before closing, all he wanted was a battery put in his watch. What he didn't expect to find was a pretty little thing that smelled so good he had trouble not growling at her.

There were a couple other girls. More than willing to throw themselves at him. He could practically hear them getting ready to bat their eyelashes and coo about this and that... he didn't have the patience for it. And their perfume made his eyes water.

So he waited for you to look up at him. Smiling and sweet. "How can I help you?"

"Just a watch battery, doll," he said, proffering the offending watch by one side of the leather band. "Not sure anymore what kind."

You frown thoughtfully for a moment and nod, "I think we can do that. No worries. It's a nice piece. Well loved." He watches you take it carefully and inhales discreetly. You even smell sweet, and warm. And like something he can't quite name. It makes him want to bury his face in inappropriate places. The thought makes him feel like a dirty old man.

He doesn't bother to stop it though. At his age, every 20 something is too young for him. "I've had it a long time- don't even know how long." Not true. It was older than you. Might even be older than your mom, depending.

No rings. No flashy jewelry. Dressed down but dressed nice. He wondered if you were the kind of girl who liked matching bras and panties...

"My dad had one like it, I think. Gave it to my brother, maybe?" You work easily and make short work of swapping the battery for him. Taking care to reset the time before you hand it back. "Good as new."

"Thanks, Doll," he hummed, taking it from you, "how much do I owe you?"

"$15," you tell him, clacking your way to the register. No upsell. No flirting. You must want to get home. He chuckled to himself. He doesn't smell a man on you, school? After work drinks? You'd all been closing and the others might be green with envy but they hadn't stopped.

He handed you the cash and took a recipt and smiled. He'd be back.

And back he came.

This time, you were wearing red. Red suited you. It brought out different tones in your skin and your eyes and he felt himself salivate.

"I was hoping you'd be here," he said, leaning casually on the counter.

"Need a new battery already?" you ask, eyes glittering, teasing him a little.

"I need a little help," he said, "shopping for a birthday present."

"Wife, girlfriend?" you ask, looking up at him, bouncing on the balls of your feet. Eager. Excited.

"Good friend," Logan clarified. Preferably something that would look good on you- not that he could say that. Yet. "Something elegant, but not diamonds."

"Hmm," you think for a second, "Ring, bracelet?"

"Necklace, I think," Logan mused. You had a beautiful neck. And he'd love to bite- he mentally slapped the back of his hand and refocused. "Something she can wear out."

"Does she like silver? Gold?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted.

"Well," you tell him, "I do like a challenge, let's see what I can find for you Mr.-?"

"Logan," he said, offering you his hand, "call me Logan. It's good enough for everyone else."

[earth4angels]

ILL VENMO YOU PLEASE TEL US

if yall get me cancelled istg very short drabble — smut, swearing, experienced jace, needy jace, established relationship, fast, quick sex over the dining table — p in v.

scenario: jacaerys is coming home late from work and you welcome him with a nice dinner and bath which turns into more of a”fuck that i need you” from jace and he takes you over the kitchen table.

you kiss him desperately, grabbing his white button up in desperation, tugging, pulling to announce you want it off.

Jacaerys only laughs into your mouth, grabbing your thighs to pull you up on the dining table, his hands pushing the plates to the side. He resumes to kiss you, his hands expertly rip open your nightgown, leaving you bare and ready for his ever growing need to devour you.

He pulls away, a string of saliva still connecting you both. He stares into your eyes and with no words he pushes you back, all the while his hands removed his shirt, you heard the noise of his belt unbuckling, the sounds sending shivers all through your body.

You knew Jacaerys was always gentle and loving but at the moment you just needed him to have you. You needed every inch of his length sliding into you fast that you couldn’t form any words. You needed him so bad that you didn’t mind if your legs wouldn’t be able to function the next day.

It was as if Jacaerys felt the same, or rather he heard the way you whimpered his name. It was different to other times you wanted soft loving, and at the time, Jacaerys just needed you.

He pulled your hands, your body lifting and in a second you were bent over the table, you were not given a second to react to his touch till you heard him spit into his hand and his length sliding up and down your folds in a tease. You only whined before you grabbed onto the edge of the table, and in a second you felt your fiancée, deep inside you that it only left you shouting his name into the table.

Your breath fogged where you laid, your breasts rubbed against the table with every thrust he pushed, you felt as if your feet couldn’t catch up to his movements. You felt too good to even process the feeling of how Jacaerys found the spot that made you see white.

Jacaerys grabbed you by the neck, his hold soft yet he pulled until your entire upper body met his front. Never once, he stopped pushing fast and long.

His breath sounded raspy, shortened, as if he ran a marathon and it turned you on. With a hand still wrapped around your neck, his mouth found your ear where he bit slightly into as he began to encourage you.

“Feel that pretty girl?” he whispered as paused his thrusts, he began to go slower, pulling out to pushing back in inch by inch. You gasped as you held onto his arm around your neck.

“Jacae-Jacaerys…” you mumbled, your brain beginning to loose its sense of reality.

“My pretty girl,” he kissed your neck, then your cheek where his teeth grazed softly into, “Such a pretty girl, mine. Tell me, are you mine?”

You nodded, drooling as you felt his fingers reaching your sensitive bud, he went in circles softly.

“Use your words baby, tell me.”

You attempted to open your eyes to meet his, but when you did, you found his dark honey eyes waiting to loose themselves in yours. You realized then, Jacaerys never took his eyes off you. He enjoyed to watch you loose yourself in his touch, how he made you fly.

“I can tell you right now,” he whispered as his leaned to kiss you, “You feel amazing, that being inside you is like nothing i’ve never felt before.”

He began to thrust himself into you slower, and then faster, his breaths coming out sharp into your mouth. You only whimpered as you grabbed into his arms.

“There’s never going to be anyone else,” he whimpered now, his hold around your waist tightening, “You belong to me, as I do to you.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt your core tightening, and Jacaerys knew as your walls clenched around him. He moaned with you, his forehead resting onto your shoulder. Never once did he let you go.

“Come,” his hand reaching your behind where he lightly rubbed, you felt too overstimulated that you only moaned. “All this is mine. You are beautiful, give in to me my pretty,” he begged.

Your toes curled and you began to pant. Jacaerys felt you shaking in his hold, so he pulled out abruptly. He turned you around and had you wrap your legs around his waist. He didn’t waste a second to push his leaking length deep inside you.

Your head rolled back as Jacaerys licked into the moist of your neck, you didn’t hear the way he whimpered as you were lost in your pleasure. Only focusing how he held you and how his length pushed until you saw nothing but stars.

“Jace.. Jace … Jace..” you moaned.

“Tell them baby. Tell them who you belong to,” he whimpered, “I love you,”

Your lips blindly looked for his lips and when you did you sloppily kissed him, “I.. I love you.”

“Seven hells, you feel so good, god i missed you, i love you,” he mumbled over and over. He held you as you began to twitch and he knew that the moment you squeezed your eyes shut and mumbled his name in gibberish, he knew he had you.

“Fuck. Fuck. That’s it. Give in to me,” Jacaerys held you tighter, and just seconds later he followed you into a sweet heaven both of you created.

[childrenofcain-if]

How would the Ro's take care of an MC who is so sick he can't even get out of bed?

C LACROIX

C stood at the doorway, the faintest crease of worry between their brows as they watched you lie there, your breath labored, eyes half-lidded in a feverish haze. the room felt unnervingly still except for the faint rustle of the sheets when you shifted, too weak to even call out their name when you noticed their presence.

“you look awful,” they finally said, their voice carrying the usual cool indifference, but their eyes flickered, betraying something that wasn’t quite annoyance. maybe concern. but if it was, they didn’t allow it to show.

you groaned and shifted beneath the blankets, feeling like your body was made of lead. “thanks, lacroix. that’s exactly what i needed to hear.”

they rolled their eyes but didn’t leave. instead, they pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the room, the sound of their shoes soft against the floor. a strange softness overtook their usually grumpy demeanor as they set down a glass of water and a bottle of medicine on the nightstand. they crouched beside the bed, eyes scanning your face like they were committing it to memory.

“can’t you be sick more quietly? some of us have better things to do than listen to your misery.” C muttered, even as their fingers brushed a damp strand of hair away from your face, a touch that was startlingly tender, especially coming from them.

you made a noise, something between a groan and a laugh. “you could’ve just stayed away,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. the fever was making everything blur at the edges, the room tilting slightly as you blinked at them. “i’m not going to die.”

their expression flickered, just for a second, and then it was gone. “yeah, well,” they muttered, looking away. “it’s not like i’ve got anything better to do.”

that was a lie. C always had something better to do. whether it was running around to find a quiet place to do their assignments or finding ways to antagonize you, their time was precious, and they spent most of it reminding everyone else of that fact. and yet, here they were, at your bedside, pretending like this was the biggest inconvenience of their life when they could’ve just as easily left you to rot in your fevered misery.

their hand hovered near your forehead, as if they were considering whether it was worth the effort to actually touch you. finally, with another sigh, they pressed their palm to your forehead. “bon dieu, you’re burning up.”

“really?” you tried to grin, but it faltered. “i hadn’t noticed.”

C rolled their eyes again, but you could hear the strain in their voice, the way it softened just slightly. “you’re insufferable even when you’re half-delirious.”

they shifted, standing up again with a sort of begrudging purpose, heading for the bathroom. you heard the sound of water running, before they returned, holding a damp cloth in one hand and picking up the glass of water on the nightstand in the other.

“you’re going to drink this,” they said firmly, thrusting the glass toward you, “and not argue with me.”

your fingers barely wrapped around the glass before it was slipping, and C caught it with a swift movement, shooting you a glare that seemed to say are you seriously this helpless? they steadied your hand, bringing the glass to your lips with more care than their expression suggested.

“go on,” they coaxed, their voice softer now, the command tempered by something almost like patience. you managed a few sips before leaning back against the pillows, utterly spent from the effort.

C’s jaw tightened, their frustration evident, but it wasn’t the kind of frustration that came from actual annoyance—more like they were mad at the situation, at you being too sick to fend for yourself, at them for caring when they told themselves they shouldn’t. they pressed the damp cloth against your forehead, their movements brusque but careful, like they were trying to make sure they didn’t hurt you, even though they acted like they didn’t care if they did.

“i’m fine,” you whispered, though even you didn’t believe it.

“no, you’re not,” they shot back, sitting down again on the edge of the bed, watching you with a critical eye. “don’t lie to me. you look like a resurrected corpse.”

“thanks,” you murmured sarcastically. “you’re such a charmer, lacroix.”

they gave a dry chuckle, running a hand through their hair as if they were debating whether to stay or leave you to your fate. but then they didn’t move. they just sat there, silent, fingers tracing the edge of the bedspread, like they were trying to figure out how they ended up in this situation in the first place.

“i’m not even a nursing major,” they finally muttered, though the edge in their voice had dulled. “i shouldn’t be here, you know. i don’t do… this.”

“could’ve fooled me,” you mumbled, eyes half-closed as the fever weighed down your thoughts. “you’re doing a pretty good job.”

“lucas used to get sick a lot,” C admitted almost reluctantly, fluffing your blanket in the process. “father wasn’t exactly what you’d call ‘nurturing,’ and mother stayed in new york for work most of the time. he was fussy and didn’t like any of our nannies either, so i had to step up and take care of him.”

for a moment, neither of you spoke as you take in the bits and pieces of their life that they just shared with you. but still, they didn’t leave immediately afterwards. they leaned back, crossing their arms again as if to make it abundantly clear that this was temporary—that the second you were remotely capable of standing on your own, they’d be out the door.

except, as minutes passed, you realized they weren’t going anywhere. you drifted in and out of feverish sleep, but every time you opened your eyes, there they were, the steady presence you hadn’t expected.

at some point, you felt them shift, and their voice broke through the haze of your fevered state. “you’d better recover soon,” they said quietly, almost like they were talking to themself. “i’m not doing this for the whole day.”

but you knew, despite their words, despite the way they acted like they didn’t want to be here, that they wouldn’t leave. not until they were sure you were okay.

“you care,” you whispered, your eyes half-closed as sleep tugged at you again.

C scoffed, but the sound was hollow. “don’t be ridiculous.”

“you care,” you repeated, a delirious smile on your lips as you felt yourself fading into sleep again.

and maybe you imagined it, but just before you drifted off, you could’ve sworn you heard them mutter, “shut up and rest, you adorable idiot.”

the next time you opened your eyes, the fever had started to ebb, and there they were, asleep, slouched back in the chair beside the bed, their head resting against the back of it, eyes closed, arms still crossed in defiance of the fact that they had stayed.

they hadn’t left you, not even for a second.

V NÆSHOLM

the room was quiet except for the soft rustle of curtains and the occasional muffled cough from you.

V sat cross-legged on the chair, watching you with a kind of stillness that felt like patience but was closer to piety. the pale light through the window seemed colder today, casting everything in muted shades of gray.

you hadn’t moved much, wrapped up in the blankets like a child, too weak to bother with the outside world. your skin was damp, slick with fever, and the effort of sitting up was too much to even consider.

V slipped off the bed and padded across the room, their footsteps silent on the plush carpet floor. they were always quiet, like they thought the world could fall apart with one wrong move. a shadow crossed their face as they looked at you, something between worry and… prayer? maybe. with V, it was always hard to tell where emotions ended and faith began.

“you’re burning up,” V whispered, their voice soft but unwavering. they knelt beside you, one hand hovering over your forehead like they were checking for something sacred. “we should get you some water. you need to stay hydrated.”

you blinked up at them, but the words were foggy, tangled in your fever. you tried to speak, tried to say something witty or sarcastic to brush it off, but all that came out was a low hum.

“shh,” V said quickly, before you could struggle with words. “i’ll do the talking. just—just rest.”

they disappeared into the kitchen, and the sound of water being poured felt too loud for the stillness of the room. when they returned, they sat on the edge of the bed, careful, like they were afraid of disturbing something delicate.

“here,” V said, holding out a glass. “you don’t have to sit up. just sip.”

you gave them a look, weakly lifting your arm, but it fell limp before you could grasp the glass. V’s brow furrowed slightly as they bit their lip. they shifted closer, gently lifting your head with one hand and pressing the cool rim of the glass to your lips. the water was cold, and the relief of it made you swallow too quickly, nearly choking. V pulled the glass back immediately.

“slow down,” they murmured, worry threading through their voice now. “it’s not going anywhere.”

you coughed, sinking back into the pillows, feeling the fever drag you down. V watched you for a long moment, their hand still cradling the back of your head. they were so close you could smell the faint scent of incense and cedar that always clung to them, like a quiet reminder of the prayers they carried around in their pockets.

“i should call a doctor,” V said suddenly, voice low but certain.

“no,” you croaked, the word scraping out of your throat like it was broken. “just... give it some time. it’ll pass eventually.” V shook their head, fingers still threaded through your hair, their touch absentminded.

“you say that, but you can’t even lift your head.” their tone was gentle but insistent, the way they always were when they were right and you were too stubborn to admit it.

you let out a weak sigh. “i’ve been worse.”

“i know.” their eyes flickered, something haunted passing through them before they could mask it. they shifted, leaning in just enough for you to catch their scent again. “but you’re not alone this time.”

the words hung in the air, thick and weighty like a promise. you glanced at V, at the way they hovered close without pressing, their usual distance gone in favor of something quieter, more intimate.

“you don’t have to—” you started, but they cut you off with a small shake of their head.

“i want to,” they said softly, their voice barely above a whisper, like the confession was too delicate for the room to hold. “i’m not leaving you like this.”

there was something resolute in their eyes now, a kind of quiet strength that felt more like faith than obligation. V had always carried themselves that way—like their devotion to you wasn’t something they chose, but something that was simply woven into their soul.

they slipped away for a moment and returned with a damp cloth. without a word, they sat beside you, dabbing at your forehead with such care that it almost felt reverent. the coldness of the cloth against your fevered skin was a shock, but you were too tired to flinch.

“better?” they asked after a long pause, their voice cutting through the haze like a prayer meant just for you.

“yeah,” you murmured, your eyes fluttering shut. “thanks.”

V didn’t respond, just kept up their gentle ministrations, hands steady as they cooled your skin, movements careful, precise. you could feel the way their presence settled over you like a blanket—warm, steady, comforting.

after a few minutes, you opened your eyes, catching a glimpse of V’s expression. there was something unspoken in the way they looked at you, something tender, like a thread between the two of you had pulled tighter, more fragile.

“why are you being so nice?” you asked, the words rasping out through the dryness in your throat. they smiled faintly, cutting you off again, this time with a look.

“i’m always nice,” they said, their lips curving into something soft. “though this time you might actually need it.”

you laughed, or at least tried to, but it came out as a weak cough. V’s smile didn’t fade, but there was something sad about it now, a sadness wrapped in affection.

“you’re not alone,” they repeated, softer now, like they were saying it more for themself than for you.

and in the quiet of that moment, with the room drenched in the dull gray light, it felt like a promise that would be kept, long after the fever broke.

W OSTENDORF

W hovered awkwardly at the edge of the room, a bundle of blankets clutched in their arms. they stood there for a moment, indecisive, looking between you and the blankets like they were unsure of where they were. the sunlight filtering through the curtains softened their features, giving them an air of uncertainty that was almost endearing.

you could barely move—your body ached, the fever radiating through every inch of you. the world around you felt distant, hazy, like you were stuck underwater and everything above the surface moved in slow motion.

W took a step closer, then hesitated, their brow furrowing. “i—i brought more blankets,” they said, their voice quiet, as if afraid that speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile stillness of the room. “you looked cold.”

you opened your mouth to respond, but only a raspy cough escaped. they winced at the sound, their face tightening with concern as they hurried forward, laying the blankets down on the foot of the bed. the gesture was clumsy, unsure, but filled with a kind of tenderness that was so distinctly W.

“you don’t have to stay,” you managed to croak out, though you didn’t really mean it. you didn’t want them to leave.

“i know,” they said, a little too quickly, as if they’d been expecting you to say that. they stood there for a moment, wringing their hands together like they weren’t sure what to do with them. “but i’m going to. if that’s okay.”

you gave them a small nod, too weak to argue, and they seemed to take that as permission. they grabbed the chair from the corner of the room and dragged it over to the side of your bed, the wooden legs scraping softly against the floor. they sat down, knees drawn up slightly, their lanky frame awkwardly folded into the chair.

for a while, neither of you spoke. you could hear your own labored breathing, feel the heat of the fever still clinging to your skin. W’s presence, though quiet, was grounding in a way you hadn’t expected.

after what felt like forever, they spoke again, their voice softer than before. “i—i made some chicken noodle soup earlier,” they said, fidgeting with the hem of their plaid shirt. “it’s probably not very good. i’m not great at cooking, but i could… i could heat it up for you. if you want.”

you smiled weakly, the corners of your lips barely lifting. “you made soup?”

they flushed slightly, ducking their head. “i, uh, tried.”

“that’s sweet.”

they blinked at you, clearly not expecting the compliment. for a moment, you thought they might actually leave the room out of sheer embarrassment, but they just nodded, clearing their throat. “i’ll go heat it up, then.”

W disappeared into the hallway, leaving you in the quiet room, the sound of their footsteps echoing faintly. you closed your eyes, letting the fever pull at you, but before you could drift too far, you heard them return, the soft clink of a spoon against a bowl breaking the stillness.

they sat down on the edge of the bed this time, the chair abandoned. they held the bowl of soup in one hand, the other awkwardly fumbling with the spoon.

“you need to sit up,” they said, though there was no command in their voice, only a kind of quiet concern.

“i can’t,” you mumbled, the effort of speaking too much.

“alright.” they swallowed nervously, then leaned forward, sliding their arm around your back, lifting you with a gentleness that surprised you. “let me help.”

their arm was steady, surprisingly strong for someone so unsure of themself. they propped you up against the pillows, their hand lingering on your shoulder for a moment longer than necessary before they pulled away, reaching for the soup again.

“here,” they murmured, carefully dipping the spoon into the bowl. they blew on it first, testing it like they weren’t sure if it would burn you, before holding it to your lips. “slowly, little at a time.”

you took the spoonful of soup, warm and surprisingly soothing against the rawness of your throat. it wasn’t very good—too much salt, too little flavor, mushy macaroni—but the fact that W had made it, that they were there, meant more than anything else in that moment.

“sorry,” they muttered, noticing the barely suppressed grimace on your face. “i—i know it’s bad. i tried out a lot of recipes and this is the only one which turned out edible. i’ll practice more later.”

“no,” you whispered, swallowing thickly. “it’s fine.”

it really wasn’t and it was clear that W didn’t believe you, but they didn’t argue. they kept feeding you spoonful after spoonful, slow and careful, their eyes darting between your face and the bowl as if they were making sure you weren’t going to collapse any second.

“i feel like a child,” you muttered, trying for a joke. it didn’t quite land.

W’s lips twitched in a small smile. “you’ve always been a little stubborn,” they said, their voice nostalgic and soft. “even when we were kids. you never liked being taken care of when you got sick.”

you smiled at that, too tired to respond. when you’d had enough, they set the bowl aside, their hand brushing lightly against yours as they moved back to their chair. you were exhausted again, your body sinking deeper into the pillows, the fever dragging at you.

“you should get some sleep,” W said, their voice a murmur. “i’ll stay right here.”

you didn’t have the energy to argue, so you nodded, closing your eyes. their presence was a quiet anchor, steady and calm, the sound of their breathing a soft, rhythmic reminder that you weren’t alone.

as you drifted off, you felt the faintest brush of W’s fingers against your hand, a hesitant touch, like they wanted to offer comfort but weren’t sure how. their voice, barely audible, floated through the thick haze of sleep.

“i’ll be here,” they whispered. “i’m not going anywhere.”

and somehow, even through the fever, even through the exhaustion that pulled you under, you believed them wholeheartedly.

D DIACONU

D stood in the doorway, the light behind them casting a long shadow across the floor. for a moment, they didn’t move, just watched you lying there, half-hidden beneath the tangled blankets. their expression was hard to read, a mixture of something close to worry but disguised beneath the usual mask of nonchalance.

“you look like death warmed over,” D said, finally breaking the silence with their usual bluntness. they leaned against the doorframe, crossing their arms. “not a great look for you, sweet cheeks.”

you tried to respond, but all that came out was a hoarse croak, your throat dry and raw. the fever made everything feel heavy, like the air in the room was thicker than it should be, and just opening your eyes felt like an effort.

“hey,” they said, their voice softening as they pushed off the doorframe and strode over to the bed, “no smart comeback? must be bad. looks like V wasn’t overreacting after all.”

D sat on the edge of the bed, their presence filling the space in that way only they could. they were close but not touching, their energy restless, as if they weren’t sure what to do in this moment.

“i’ll live,” you rasped, though the effort it took to say the words made you feel like you were lying.

D’s mouth quirked into a half-smile, but it didn’t reach their eyes. “yeah, well, not looking like it from here.”

they stood up, moving to the windows. in one smooth motion, they threw the curtains wide open, letting in a flood of sunlight that made you wince and pull the blankets over your face.

“god, why—” you groaned, voice muffled by the blankets.

“you need air,” D said, dragging a chair over and sitting down next to the bed with a sigh. they leaned back, looking at you like they were trying to figure out how much of this was an exaggeration and how much was real. “or maybe a miracle. i don’t know. you’re not going to get better hiding in the dark like fucking nosferatu.”

“pretty sure the fever’s going to kill me first,” you muttered.

D just stared at you for a moment, their half-lidded gray eyes taking in every detail—the sheen of sweat on your skin, the dark circles under your eyes, the way your breaths came shallow and uneven.

“you’re not going to die,” they said, a little too forcefully, like they were trying to convince themself as much as you. it seemed like they noticed it too because they tried to cover it up with a joke. “i’d kill you first. messy but faster.”

“i’d also suffer less,” you added with a weak chuckle, though it quickly dissolved into a coughing fit. D’s face tightened, and without another word, they were up, rummaging around in the small bag they’d brought with them.

when they came back, they had a glass of water and some pills. “here,” they said, pushing them into your hand. “take this.”

you looked at the pills with suspicion. “do i look like i’m in the state to do drugs at the moment?”

“these aren’t— well, technically medicines are drugs,” they shook their head. “but it’s for the fever. trust me, you need it.”

you stared at the pills for a moment longer before sighing and downing them with the water. D watched you the whole time, their eyes narrowed and making sure you weren’t going to choke or spill the water everywhere.

after a few seconds of silence, they sighed, leaning back in the chair again, but there was a tension in their posture, like they weren’t entirely comfortable being still for this long.

“i’m not great at this,” D admitted, running a hand through their hair in a rare display of vulnerability. “taking care of people, i mean. but you’re not exactly leaving me much of a choice, are you?”

you glanced over at them, trying to muster a weak smile. “the door is that way.”

they snorted, a sound that was more amused than anything. “yeah, well, you’re not getting rid of me so easily, sweet cheeks.”

for a while, D just sat there, tapping their fingers against the side of the chair in an impatient rhythm. the quiet between you both wasn’t uncomfortable, though—it was just... there. it was easy, even with the fever dragging at your consciousness.

D wasn’t the type to hover over anyone, to fuss. they’d never be like that. but their presence was steady, solid in a way that made you feel like maybe you weren’t going to drown under the weight of this sickness after all.

they sighed again, louder this time, clearly irritated with themself. “you know, i should’ve just left you to suffer. would’ve been funnier.”

you rolled your eyes weakly, but there was no real feeling in it. “you’re terrible at pretending you don’t care.”

D’s lips twitched upward, but they didn’t deny it. instead, they leaned forward, elbows on their knees, and gave you a long look.

“you’re not allowed to die on me, okay?” they said, their tone half-joking but their eyes serious. “because then i’d have to explain to everyone why i spent an entire day sitting around and being nice to you. and i’m not doing that.”

“deal,” you croaked, managing a small smile. “i’ll try not to die just to spare you the trouble.”

“good,” they said, leaning back again, looking more comfortable now that the conversation was back in a familiar, light-hearted territory. “because i don’t do hospital visits. or funerals.”

you closed your eyes, the exhaustion creeping back in despite their attempts to keep you awake. their voice, though, kept you tethered to the room, to the present.

“sleep,” D said, gentler now. “i’ll be here when you wake up. but if you die, i’m dialing up necromancers left and right.”

“understood,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as you drifted off.

and as you slipped into sleep, you could feel D’s gaze still on you, steady and unrelenting, like they were keeping watch. like they’d fight the fever off themself if they could.

M WHITLOCK-SINGH

M stood at the foot of your bed, arms crossed, a look of mild exasperation on their face. the room felt too large and too cold despite the covers you’d pulled up to your chin, and the fever left you tangled in a mix of sweats and chills.

“really,” M said, voice posh and clipped, “you should have called me earlier. this is entirely preventable, you know.”

you tried to laugh, but it came out as a cough. “yeah, sorry, i’ll be sure to schedule my illness next time.”

they gave a small, elegant shrug, as if conceding that point, but you could tell they didn’t fully agree. M always had an answer, a solution to every problem, and you being incapacitated by something as mundane as sickness seemed to offend their sense of order.

without another word, they turned and headed out of the room. you stared after them, confused for a moment, but they were back almost immediately, carrying a silver tray with a delicate teacup balanced on it. the sight was so absurdly M—like they couldn’t fathom the idea of handling something as simple as tea without making it an event—that you couldn’t help but smile.

“chamomile,” they announced, setting the tray down on your bedside table with the kind of grace that made the act feel like a theatre performance. “good for your throat, and it won’t upset your stomach either.”

you propped yourself up on your elbows, feeling weak but trying not to let it show. M lifted the teacup with both hands and offered it to you with all the solemnity of a ceremonial ritual.

“drink,” they said. “slowly.”

you raised an eyebrow but took the cup anyway, the warmth of it seeping into your hands. “do you always take care of everyone like this?”

max tilted their head slightly, considering the question. “you’re not ‘everyone,’” they said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “i have standards, you know.”

you sipped the tea, feeling the heat slide down your throat. it was calming, the way chamomile always was, but there was something more comforting about the way M watched you with that inscrutable expression of precision and care.

“i feel awful,” you rasped, your head lolling against the headboard. “why are you being so caring towards me?”

M quirked an eyebrow, their lips curving into that half-smile of theirs—a smile that knew too much. “contrary to popular belief, darling, i am quite capable of kindness when the situation calls for it.”

“thanks,” you murmured, resting back against the pillows. “for, you know, the tea. the care.”

M’s lips twitched, almost like they were amused. “you should know by now that i don’t do things halfway.” they sat down in the armchair beside your bed, the dark leather creaking slightly under their weight. even sitting, they were composed, their posture immaculate as they crossed one leg over the other. “you’re an absolute disaster right now,” they added, though their tone wasn’t unkind. “but, thankfully for you, i’m here.”

you snorted, setting the teacup back on the tray. “a disaster, huh?”

they smiled—a small, subtle curve of the lips. “an endearing disaster.”

you coughed again, this time harder, and M immediately stood up, as if on alert. they moved quickly but with a calmness that made it clear they weren’t flustered by the situation.

“you’re overheating,” they observed, brushing their cool hand against your forehead. “i’ll get you some water.”

they returned in what felt like no time at all, a glass of water in hand. M held it out to you, not so much as letting you struggle to sit up on your own. you managed to drink a few sips, feeling a little steadier as the cold water cut through the fever’s haze.

as you handed the glass back, M’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than you expected. there was something in their eyes—a hint of concern, but deeper than that, something bordering on protectiveness.

you gave them a soft smile. “thank you. your help... it’s appreciated. really.”

“i should hope so,” they replied, straightening the edge of your blanket with a meticulous hand. “you’d better be back on your feet soon. i don’t have the patience to babysit indefinitely.”

despite their words, you could see the truth in their actions—the way they moved so carefully, like every detail mattered. M didn’t deal in overtly emotional gestures, but their care was all the more powerful because of its restraint. they weren’t going to fawn over you or make a scene. but they would sit there, beside your bed, making sure everything was taken care of while you recovered.

and as the hours passed, they remained by your side, the room filled with the quiet rhythm of your breathing, their calm presence a balm against the fever. you could feel their gaze on you even as you drifted in and out of sleep, an anchor to the world beyond the heat of your sickness.

when you woke again, the light had shifted in the room, casting long shadows across the walls. M was still there, a book in their lap, though it was closed, as if they hadn’t actually been reading it.

“you didn’t have to stay,” you said, your voice rough with sleep.

M glanced over at you, their expression unreadable but softened by the dim light. “of course i did,” they said, as if it were the simplest truth. they stood up, placing the book on the bedside table before smoothing down the front of their shirt. “now, rest. i’ll make sure everything’s in order when you’re back to your usual self.”

there was no arguing with them—there never was. and so, as you let the exhaustion pull you back under, you felt an odd sense of peace, knowing that M would keep everything in place.

[velvetvexations]

I feel like a lot of the trans women saying that masculinity/manhood is always rewarded in everyone because patriarchy often forget that the opposite is true, actually, for people who are seen as women/put in the "woman" category.

Because yes, trans women are usually forced into manhood and "rewarded" for being men, and punished for being women. But that's not because manhood is universally rewarded in everyone, but because partriarchy sees having been born with a penis as "man".

It also sees being born with a vagina as "woman", and every deviation from that is *also* punished.

Yes, people who are seen as women/girls may have more freedom in expression of gender (depending on where they are from. I hate when ppl act like people afab everywhere can just dress like men without punishment. There are so many countries with laws on what "women" (and those treated as women because of their agab) can wear, and if anyone believes for one second that breaking these laws is REWARDED in any way, they're so fucking deep in their own head and need to talk to someone from these countries) but that freedom was fought for by feminists! Feminists have fought to be simply just allowed to wear pants. It's ridiculous to look at how it is now (in the western world) and make conclusions on that without looking at *why* it is that way now and how it was before.

And people are usually expected to grow out of their tomboy-"phase" by the time they reach their late teens, or early twenties at latest, and become a feminine woman, wife, and mother. If you don't do that, your masculinity gets punished.

And the masculinity of people afab is also only (begrudgingly) accepted (in SOME places in the world) as long as they're still visible as women or girls and their masculinity is hot and serves cishet men. As soon as they step "too far" out of these roles (by being non-binary or men, or being "ugly", fat, or anything that would make them "undesirable"), their masculinity gets punished. Horribly.

It's really infuriating when (trans)radfem trans women try to act like their experiences are universal and whenever someone says something that disagrees with them, they must be lying or "delusional" (yay, ableism! so progressive /s) for thinking that they were, in fact, punished for their masculinity or manhood...

Sorry for unloading this on you, didn't know where else to put it. And thank you so much for listening.

I think a major issue here is that no matter how much we try to reason things out and work through why they act the way they do, radical feminism, trans or cis, ultimately comes down, at some point, to a deliberate decision to prioritize egocentrism and their own desires over seeing other people as real, actual people - not even other transfems, who they just sexualize and try to control, or call a TERF if they can't. And it's hard to reason with that.

Like, they have to know on some level that they hyperinflate trans women in particular being "socially murdered"* to use as social capital and terrorize younger** transfems into isolating themselves. Maybe a very long time ago for some of them it came from the distress they felt from the legitimately immense danger transfems face in a variety of contexts, but they've shot far beyond that now and just don't really care. They've built a cage of unreality around themselves that makes me feel like I'm talking to aliens.

Like the other day, I was talking to one who insisted that the tee-em-ees will not show up for me. Like, I said they did, and she said they won't, and I was like, but they DO! They have! Always! I've seen it with my own eyes, directly for me specifically! But it was just "who hurt you," "let yourself be angry," "don't settle for just scraps," "they won't treat you better if you throw yourself at their feet," "social murder," and it's like WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? ARE YOU HAVING A STROKE? WAS THIS A DREAM YOU HAD?

And what about the deliberately cruel fuckery, the constant derision of the most petty things like forcemasc? What the fuck do they get out of wrongly asserting that women are never punished for masculinity and never have a problem with being viewed as masculine, like why are they doing that, what is their goal? Because it seems like it's literally just "mock and invalidate the sexual interests of others and deem it an inferior copy of our thing."

What do they get out of misgendering cis and trans men for forcefem funsies and telling them to suck it up? They don't really believe that their forcefem joke is the only thing that might make an egg crack. That's extremely obviously a lie. They're doing it because they want to, because it's their kink, because they don't care about the feelings of other people, and they can use transmisogyny as a convenient defense when people ask them to moderate literally any of their behavior for the comfort of everyone else to literally any extent while demanding everyone else shut up and defer to them on every single topic in every single situation.

And this stuff with D20 and Ophiuchus and the transmasc character being treated better? A lie. Just fully making it up. Inventing it. Fabricating it. For attention.

I've never had one acknowledge it when I've tried to explain that I first learned about all of this from transmasc friends bringing it to me so they could defer to my opinion.

They're determined to stay like this. It sucks.

*truly a phrase that makes me livid to even think about now, they reduce it to about the same level of seriousness as forcefem jokes, every single time it's so thoughtlessly hollow and self-obsessed but you could guess that from it being a fair description of every thought they externalize

**let me make this clear, I'm referring to young adults, I am not accusing anyone of being predatory towards minors nor am I saying the motivations are necessarily sexual anyway, although clearly transradfems don't care about the effect their hyperbole will have on the mental health of minors exposed to it and trained from a young age to never trust anyone, so underage transfems are very much a concern here, but not in the sense that they're being directly and personally abused in any way

[stormblessed95]

Watching Are You Sure?! EP 7

A reminder of how I do these reaction posts as I watch things. I just write my reactions and thoughts down literally they happen. Think more of a bullet point format. I'll include links when I can to videos, thanks to the people who twt who upload clips. And at the end, I'll do a better wrap up of all my opinions. I hope everyone enjoyed the show so far!!

Not this show starting off with a mistaken identity trip!! Lol Jimin saying that he only went snowboarding once before and it was with JK. And JK was so confused. You could see him searching the files in his brain lmfao. Jimin's oh wait! I went with your friends 😂😂 okay, just hanging out with JKs friends on your own? It's giving couple. I can't lie. I'm sorry. What in the best friend?! 😂😂 I loved the facial expressions and the way Jimin buried his face into Jungkookie there too

Jimin listening to hate you. And JKs why are you listening to that? Jimin: because I like it 😳 lmao I agree Jimin, it was abrupt 😂😂

Their appreciation for their crew is 😍😍

Jk dozing off to Jimin's softly singing. It's giving the same vibes as that one run episode that he dozed off to Jimin's ASMR. Idk what that's giving exactly.... But it's giving *something* and you know what it is

"this is our last moment of relaxation. I love it" 😭

Not JK just chopping at his hair like that. Oh baby lol don't look at me like this is my fault!! It's okay, fucking up your hair and needing to make it much shorter than originally planned is a life right of passage lol

Not JKs haircut transporting Jimin back in time 10 years 😂😂😂

The staff giggling and immediately taking photos 😂 BTS are their babies lol

Jimin hurting himself and shouting oh shit 😂😂 the subtitles trying to sensor him without bleeping his actual words 😂🤣 subtitles should be accurate above all else people! Cmon! Lol

Jimin moaning and groaning while transferring tubs, sitting on the edge, etc and JK just looks like he is enjoying the show the whole time. There is so much ass on display in the shorts they are wearing in this whole scene. Where is the decorum?! Lol!

Turning off the cameras to shower together before the Jacuzzi. Very innocent, but sounds like it could be so not 🤣😂

JKs faces when trying to handle to cold tub 😂😂

"feel how cold I am" better translated to "just hug me once" and the immediate hug and the hand placement to feel the cold? Yeah okay 🤣

Anyone remember the emojis over the barest slips of tummy during anything? Now they are showing them wash themselves and rub their own muscles in a cold tub and show off flexing to the camera. What the fuck Hybe 🤣🤣🤣

Soundproof Sauna to their matching PJs and eating a whole feast 🥰

The way they giggle together is my favorite thing

JK watching Jimin making his this crab is so good video so endeared 🥰😂😍

Jimin insisted on JK trying the shrimp too because it was so amazing instead of eating the last of the shrimp even though he loved it so much. And JK sharing half his urchin with Jimin because it was so yummy. Cute. They are so precious to each other

Jimin wants seconds, JK says it's a bad idea. They order seconds 😂😂😂

I both love and hate watching them eat. Because I think watching people eat is gross and I stand by that. Lol but they love it so much and look so happy, I also just enjoy seeing them enjoy themselves. It's a complicated mix of emotions I experience 😂

The trend continues of brushing their teeth together. Jimin, the mischief maker, kicks JK during their teeth brushing?? Lol and takes a selfie of them too. Share it please?

"I'm going to pass out after this, especially if we get massages" JK " we are getting massages?!" No lmfao you silly goose, that was 100% Jimin hinting at wanting a massage 😂🤣😂🤣

Not them being super sleepy, yet still annoying each other on purpose by flashing lights at each other 😂

Jimin asking JK if he is too hot, probably knowing already he gets too hot at night. But instead of changing the temperature when he did wake up too hot, knowing Jimin was comfy with how it was, JK just moved to the living room. And Jimin waking him up by so softly petting his head 🥺🥺🥺

Are they advertising sunscreen? Lol it worked. I wanted to go get some 😂😂

Jimin fighting for his LIFE in the shower. Wtf was happening?!! Lmao and JK finishing up his breakfast before going into the bathroom to shower while Jimin was still in the shower it sounded like. Lol ALRIGHT. Hope you both enjoyed said shower I guess 😅😂🤣

Why are we play fighting while getting dressed boys?! Lmao

Jimin starting a pretend photoshoot with the ski jacket and gear. Absolutely, yes please

Jimin is such a good boyfriend bringing JKs jacket back out to him

Jimin just enjoying sitting in the car while JK goes in to order 😂😂 good for him! JK telling him he only ordered food for himself and none for Jimin, only to say "here is our food" when it arrived 😂 what a jokester lol

Jimin feeding Jungkook while he is driving 🥺

Jimin joking about an AYS OST. Please please please give it to us though for real

Singing random love songs for a game! Where JK interrupted Jimin singing the line "the person I love is gone" to sing "I love you" three times lol okay got it

The way JK always stops to just stare at Jimin until he gets his reaction to whatever he is doing or wearing is always so cute. Especially because he always smiles so cutely after Jimin gives him his desired compliment 💜❤️

JK adjusting Jimin's googles for him 🥺

The way that JK checks in on Jimin first to make sure he is actually okay before teasing him about being scared lol it's sweet and cute

The hysterical cut of JK shredding down the slope to Jimin laying in the snow 😂😂😂😂 Jimin and his staff member literally falling over each other 🤣🤣🤣 I'm dying lmao!

Jimin ditching his helmet with how often he falls is stressing me out lmfao he looks gorgeous though!

Skiing would be fun too he says, turning to Jimin with a hopefully sparkle in his eyes that he knows Jimin can't say no to. Camera cuts to them on skis 😂 JK, I love and adore you. Never change

Wrap up thoughts:

They showered/bathed together 3 times in one episode and thats insane. Lmao whatever guys 😂 this was just an excellent episode showcasing their closeness, their intimacy, their silliness, their individuality and their soft spoken nature with each other. It showed the way they consistently consider each other, what the other wants and needs. I don't think I have anything to expand on from what I've already said above. I really loved this episode. Fully plan on the last episode making me cry.

All purple links in my post go back to @dstdes with video clips of the moment being talked about. I did use a few twitter clips as well, sorry. Thanks for reading!

[schoenpepper]

Mwah!

Intro: Your way of love is spontaneous and loud, and your boyfriend is probably dying (affectionate).

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread

A/N: Sup. This is a request. K bye.

Masterlist

“What’s this?”

You glance at the large circular item in your hands. Sure the cake is a bit burnt, and the strawberries were a little more geometric than the hearts you had tried to shape them to be, but it’s not unrecognizable, is it? “It’s a strawberry shortcake,” you answer with a smile, “you like these, right? I made it myself.”

Riddle hesitantly accepts, but not without another question. “What is it for?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s the occasion?”

You laugh and move closer to him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. He’s bright red, clearly flustered, and he shyly looks away as he raises the plate up to cover his face. “Riddle,” you whisper softly, “I don’t need an occasion to show my love for you.”

The housewarden of Heartslabyul cannot deal with random acts of love very well.

Especially if you do it in public.

He’ll reprimand you with a blush and claim something or the other is against the rules.

And as such, the best way to deal with him is to do all those things in the confines of his or your room. Somewhere away from the eyes of the public.

Unfortunately for him, that doesn’t exactly fall under “spontaneity”, does it?

Well, if you insist…

He’s a bit too whipped, for lack of a better word, to actually stop you.

Your hands cup his cheeks so lovingly while you’re seated on his lap, peppering his face with butterfly kisses. Try as he might, Azul can’t find it in himself to push you away. He’s almost shaking in embarrassment with the way you’re acting…

And because the two of you aren’t alone.

From another corner of his office, the twins are snickering and whispering among themselves, whereas his “client” is nervously averting his gaze from your scandalous behavior in between the eels. Azul puts his hands on your shoulders and asks with a trembling smile, “My dear, we’re quite busy here. Is there anything you require of me?”

You grin and shake your head, “Nope! I just missed you, that’s all.”

Your words are punctuated with another kiss to his lips.

Have you ever seen someone so embarrassed and shy that they physically collapse?

Dear, you will soon if you don’t stop barging into his meetings and flirting with him as if there was nobody else there.

Please have mercy on this poor soul.

His right hand man has gathered enough blackmail to last a lifetime.

(Jade wants you to continue, please, don’t stop on his account or his camera’s)

Azul isn’t very used to such flashy, random displays of affection.

But if it’s you…he supposes he can try to adapt. He’d rather not change you or your wondrous nature.

“Hold still, darling.”

You can’t follow Vil’s words—you follow the rush of adrenaline that zips through your veins and you move to kiss him, smearing the lipstick he’d just applied to your freshly moisturized lips. Your boyfriend looks at you exasperatedly while his vice housewarden (whom you did not know was in the room with you) is clapping and spouting nonsense.

“And which part of hold still did you not understand?” Vil raises an eyebrow.

“All of it,” you reply cheekily while wrapping your arms around him, “I feel like kissing you lots today. Is that bad?”

He huffs and rolls his eyes, but the slightest hint of a smile creeps up on his lips.

You’ll have to be a little more restrained, paparazzi’s always breathing down his neck and he can’t have the two of you be some after-dinner talk for others.

But in more private locations where he’s absolutely sure you’re alone, he’ll indulge you readily.

You can’t exactly control your PDA though, so Vil gets himself accustomed to magical disguises for outings.

Something about his favorite shade of lipstick makes you want to smudge it with a kiss.

It’s smudge proof, but keep trying.

Vil rarely gets flustered, but catch him when he’s super off guard and you can do it.

[hwnglx]

hm i tried my best to explain, he has a lot of different facets to him, so reading for him can get a little overwhelming.. hope it's still a nice read 🤍

jake's ideal type

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

shuffled songs: bored by billie eilish young and beautiful by lana del rey “will you still love me, when i got nothing but my aching soul?”

physical traits

natural and classic beauty. harmonious features. deep and intense eyes. color more on the darker side. (like dark eyes you can lose yourself in) fierce gaze. something strong about their features that makes them stand out, it just catches your eye. face that lights up once they smile. (looks colder in a resting position but transform once they break into a smile) keep hearing “부담스러워” meaning burdenful. in this context, used more in an “intimidating” manner. in korean this can be used for people who have intensity to their look, people you can't hold eye contact with for long. he doesn't have an extremely specific type, just needs to feel intrigued.

personality traits

so, jake likes his partners to have a powerful effect on him. what seems to intrigue him in a person, is “reverse charm” where they might look sweet and innocent, but are much more fierce and savage inside. or look intense and cold, but end up being very soft and sweet inside. someone with a captivating aura, who carries themselves with a sense of mystery. a person he looks at and makes him wonder, awakens his interest like.. “oh this person must have such a different side to them deep down.”

jake also likes it when his lovers can boldly challenge him and his beliefs. he wants someone witty who isn't afraid to talk back at him, change his perspectives. someone whose words and actions linger in his mind, make him re-think his own and in hindsight change and transform him for the better. he wants his relationships to turn him into the better version of himself and to provoke him to discover his best self.

another quality he seems to cherish in his romantic partners, is when they're patient, gentle and persevering. he wants someone with emotional intelligence and empathy for people, who looks after the ones they treasure with great care. he needs someone loyal who won't be discouraged quickly, and remains committed to him through every trial. he seems to be quite self aware, so he knows that he isn't exactly the easiest lover to deal with.. whether that's because of his busy schedule, or his more complicated nature. he wants a person with motives and interests selfless enough to be accepting towards his faults, forgiving towards his mistakes. he wants a resilient person who can encourage him to work on himself. honestly, he seems to like his s/o to have motherly energy. he wants someone who will nurture him, coddle him on some levels, but also give him the tough love he needs to grow.

jake wants a person who puts importance into keeping the relationship harmonious. he'd appreciate a person who can balance him out, in a way where they can complete him in the areas he lacks. for instance, someone much more stable and grounded than him. someone who can be more logical or objective and less impulsive when the situation asks for it. i keep hearing “정신 차려”, which means “come to your senses” or “pull yourself together”.

(note; this insight was interesting because i think he's this case of opposites attracting and benefitting from each other. he could grow a lot from being with someone like jay, who has a stellium in taurus, which is opposite jake's scorpio stellium. idk if they're close but despite unavoidable clashes due to being so so different, they have potential to balance each other out pretty well)

jake puts a lot of value into understanding each other on a level deeper than everyone else. he wants there to be effortless communication between the two, almost telepathic, where they know what the other means even without necessarily being vocal about it. the person who seems to know you so well; they complete your sentences, or know what you're thinking or feeling just by one glance at your expression.

he also seems to like his lovers having this duality in personality, where they can be both; cute, playful and kittenish (someone who flirts in this giggly and coy way), but capable of having meaningful and long conversations about deep and serious matters in life. he does seem to love duality a lot, whether that's appearance-wise or character-wise.

him as a boyfriend

+ jake is a boyfriend who loooves making you feel like it's only you and him in this world. he really values alone-time and deep intimacy, whether that's physical intimacy in the form of quality time, or emotional intimacy in the form of deep conversations. he enjoys zoning in on his partners and focusing the entirety of his attention on them.

sweet aspect; he himself can be very moody, but if you need him to be your source of comfort and shoulder to cry on, he can become that for you. he'll put effort into making sure he wins over your trust and you feel comfortable around him. he wants you to feel safe enough to not be afraid of showcasing your emotions, whether that's sadness, frustration, anger.. he likes to see it all. he does enjoy seeing his lover riled up about him lmao, since to him it shows they're passionate about the relationship. but there is this comforting and warm energy to him, where he's good at making you feel seen, and listened to.

he is the type of boyfriend who will want to stick by your side through all storms. he really values what his lovers have to say. let's say you got into an argument with him; once you've both calmed down, he might sit you down, softly take your hand and deeply gaze into your eyes while quietly listening to your side of the story. he'll want to understand your perspective and your heart.

he can be responsible as a lover. it almost feels like a task to him to fulfill his role as a boyfriend, to make you feel like you can rely on him. he wants to lead the relationship, and make you feel secure. it's very much an equal give and take, since he does seem to enjoy leaning on his partner for security at times as well. evidently, he seems to actually like a balanced relationship with no crazy power dynamics.

- hm, some heavy energy here i don't feel comfortable diving into deeply. but i can sense him realizing he has a habit of so strongly clinging to his lovers, due to abandonment issues. which can be quite common for scorpio placements.. he's scared of being left behind and replaced with someone “better”, due to him potentially not being good enough to stay with. there's some lingering fatigue and emotional baggage from the past he seems to struggle letting go of.

jake can put so much pressure on himself to satisfy his partner. he wants them to feel fulfilled and confident in the relationship and makes it his responsibility. it can weigh on him if he feels like his partner is starting to lose the spark, fall out of love with him, and especially lose their trust in him. he wants his lover to recognize how much he cares about the connection, but is self-aware enough to understand it's his own bad habits and impulsiveness that can stand in the way.

i can see him having bad habits like, having wandering eyes or being too charming and.. complementary towards women, where it can border on flirting. blurring the lines (like in his eyes it wasn't flirting but his partner sees it differently). though i can't see him straight up cheating, “superficial” things like that can still understandably rub partners the wrong way. it can easily cause discomfort, conflicts, miscommunication. this can lead to trust issues on both sides. he can just be a boyfriend who requires a lot of patience.

[bigtrashdad]

An honest admission about Delaware Pastoral

I want to preface this by emphasizing that the comic is NOT ENDING. This is more of an open conversation about making comics, and what feels like an inevitable burnout. I've reached a complete standstill with DelaPast. When I began posting this comic in 2020, I was positively bursting with drive to complete this story, which has slowely but surely dwindled. This isn't the first time this has happened. I was making a comic from 2014-2018 that let out an excruciatingly slow death-rattle after 53 pages, (which if you do the math, averages about 13 pages per year, in theory). and was eventually just abandoned.

I love comics, and I love making them. I also think it's an extremely strenuous process that takes so. much. time. I'm a perfectionist through and through, and I tend to expect way too much of myself, while also having the attention-span and patience of a gerbil. A very real part of me is ashamed DelaPast hasn't progressed further, and that I've been neglecting it for so long. All while undermining the fact that since this comic's conception I've completed a bachelors, masters and pedagogy degree. I got an email the other day that the website domain is about to expire, and I considered just letting it slowly vanish into the abyss. To just upload the finished script and let people read it for themselves and imagine what could have been. But it wouldn't be fair to anyone who enjoys this comic, to all the work I put in to it these past four years and kind of stupidly, the characters I've come to love so much. But I do need to officially take a step back and seriously reconsider how I'm going to make the comic going foward. This story has always been a dialogue-heavy, actionless, two-hander, which has been an absolute nightmare trying to make "exciting" through storyboards. I might reformat it entirely to be more text heavy, or figure out a way to save more time on each page. Regardless, it's time to finally admit that DelaPast is officially taking a hiatus until further notice. I don't know when it will be back, or how, but it WILL return. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading Delaware Pastoral so far! Elliott and Wentworth will be back soon, I promise :) For now, feast your eyes on this unfinished page, as a little treat.