#there's just something about a big sad guy

[glitterquadricorn]

His name is Chuck - LN4

+summary: what do you get a man that can literally get anything he wants at a moment's notice? why a puppy of course! +pairing: Lando Norris x Reader +warnings: mentions a pregnancy scare, mentions cheating (no cheating happens), semi-edited. a/n: this was supposed to be out months ago... oops. I do not give my permission to have my work reposted. I do not give my permission to have my work translated. If I'm notified that you've stolen my work or claim it as your own, you'll be asked to take it down before I'll report you. End of discussion.

What do you get someone that can afford to get anything their heart desires? It seemed like nothing that came to mind was good enough. She could get him the same thing she did the first year they were together for his birthday, which was a brand new, muted orange, lace lingerie set. But repeat birthday gifts were tacky in her opinion. And it's not like she couldn't get him another one of those boudoir books because the last time she did, it led to a pregnancy scare.

Whenever his birthday did come around, they'd most likely wouldn't even be in Monaco, much less in England. It's sometimes hard to plan things around his racing schedule but she wouldn't have it any other way.

"What are you watching?"

Jumping, placing a hand over her chest, "Jesus Christ, Lando! What is wrong with you!"

Lando laughed as he walked around the couch and sat next to her, noticing she was watching the most recent video Mclaren posted of him playing with puppies. Y/n saw the corners of Lando's mouth turn upwards into a smile. It was at this moment she knew what she was going to get Lando for his birthday. Only problem was where she was going to get it and where she was going to keep it until his birthday.

"I had a lot of fun playing with those puppies," he paused. "It makes me wish we weren't so busy traveling to and from countries for races, you know?"

"I can rearrange and clear some things from my schedule so I could be with the dog at all times."

"There's no need to do that, love."

Y/n saw a flash of sadness in Lando's eyes before he rested his head on her shoulder. Despite him saying she didn't need to move things around; she wanted to because that's what you do when you love someone. So, when Lando went off to go stream with Max, she texted Alex.

y/n -> albonooo

how much do you love me?

albonooo -> y/n

what did you do?

y/n -> albonooo

it's not about what I did, but what I'm about to do.

I need a huge favor.

albonooo -> y/n

I feel like I'm about to regret hearing you out but carry on.

y/n -> albonooo

Lando's birthday is coming up and everyone knows that Lando is a hard man to shop for. Mclaren recently did a video playing with puppies and I wanted to get him a puppy for his birthday.

albonooo -> y/n

okay, so what does this have to do with me?

y/n -> albonooo

I'm glad you asked!

When I get the puppy, I need somewhere to put them until his actual birthday.

albonooo -> y/n

Why me though?

y/n -> albonooo

if you and Lily got another animal no one would question it. In case you forgot, you guys practically have a zoo.

albonooo -> y/n

fair.

Now that she had a place to put the puppy once she got it, the next step was to talk to someone over at Battersea. The first phone call she made, no one answered. No one answering wasn't that big of a deal since they were probably busy, and she'd just call back later. When she called back hours later, the woman she spoke to was less than helpful. In fact, she wasn't really directing her in the direction she wanted to go, and the frustration was growing by the minute. Her fingers rubbed her temple, wondering if getting Lando a puppy for his birthday was a good idea.

And the search for a puppy didn't get any better as the weeks went by. Every time she thought she had found the perfect puppy, something would happen, and she'd be back at square one. But just as she was ready to give up and throw the towel in, she had gotten a call from her aunt saying a friend of hers' dog had puppies five weeks ago and could come and pick one out.

There's just one issue.

This person was in England and she's in Monaco.

When she told Lando she wasn't able to attend the Brazilian GP because of a business meeting back in England, he had reassured her it was fine, but she could tell from his eyes he was a little upset. Seeing that look in his eyes made her feel guilty for lying to him since she's never lied to him about anything in their relationship. She had to remind herself that it's a gift for this birthday and it'll be one that he'll never forget.

Arriving in England, the drive to her aunt's friend's house was long since they lived pretty far out, but she didn't mind as she watched the landscape change from the bustling city where houses were stacked on top of each other to the wide-open meadows of the quiet English countryside.

Soon, the uber was turning onto the long rocky driveway leading up to a large stone home covered ivy. Standing outside was a man who she assumed to be her aunt's friend.

The man held his hand out for her to shake. "You must be y/n! My name is Richard."

"That's me," she smiled. Richard led them in the house and into the sunroom where the sound of puppies playing warmed her heart. "Oh, my goodness! They're all so cute!"

Richard stood off to the side, "If have you any questions, don't hesitate to ask."

"What breed of dog are they?" she asked, sitting down on the floor. The puppies surrounded her until she threw a ball, but there was one that didn't move from her side.

"Jack Russell Terrier." Richard smiled when the one dog that didn't move from her side crawled into her lap and fell asleep. "Seems like you've been chosen."

"Seems like it."

A warm fuzzy feeling washed over her body as she gently scratched behind the sleeping puppy. In her heart she just knew this was the dog for Lando. Pulling an orange collar from her pocket, she fastened it around his neck, making sure it wasn't too tight.

"You got a name picked out?" Richard said, pushing off the door frame, gesturing to her to follow him.

"No. I'll let my boyfriend pick a name since it's going to be his birthday present."

"A puppy is quite the birthday gift."

"Yeah, but when Lando did that video with those puppies, I could see that look of longing for a puppy, but with our schedules it was not practical for us to get a puppy. Now that things have settled a bit, I want to get him the puppy I know he wants."

Richard reached into a drawer and handed her a manila envelope. "Everything you need is in there."

"Thanks again for this. I was beginning to think I wasn't going to find a puppy in time."

"It's not a problem, y/n." Richard came from around the desk, "Let me walk you out."

The two quietly talked about how the season was going as they walked to the front of the house, but the feeling of anxiety was there. And that anxiety feeling was still there when she knocked on the door of Alex's apartment to drop the puppy and supplies off.

"Alex, please tell me I'm not crazy for getting Lando a puppy for his birthday."

Alex, who gently scratched behind the puppy's ear, "Oh! You're for sure crazy-"

From further in the apartment, Lily shouted, "Ignore him, y/n. I think it's cute you got Lando a dog for his birthday."

Alex watched as the woman shifted her weight from left to right, mumbling under her breath and waving her arms around frantically. "Y/n, listen. Lando has been wanting a puppy for the longest time, so this is a good gift."

"You think so?"

"Yes! Now head home before he finds out you've been here."

The reassurance from Alex made the anxiety she was feeling fall off her shoulders. And as she walked down the hall towards the elevator, she crossed her fingers' hoping Alex was right because at this point, there was no going back.

One of the hardest things she's ever done was keep this big of a secret from Lando. There were a few times were she nearly slipped but thankfully caught herself. But Lando clocked her nervousness and made a mental note of her odd behavior. It wasn't like y/n to act this way, so did something happen? Did she cheat and was hiding it from him?

As it got closer to his birthday, she got more fidgety, which again was not like her. Y/n wouldn't cheat on him, would she? No. She wouldn't. He knows her better than herself. Maybe it was something else, and his mind was just making things up.

Lando woke the morning of his birthday and instinctively reached over to the other side of the bed and noticed you weren't there. Instead, was a note.

If you wake up and I'm not there, I only went to pick up your birthday present from Alex. This is around the time you say, 'she didn't have to get me anything,' but I did. I wanted to. I'll be home shortly.

Love, y/n.

He laid there wondering what y/n got him that she had to go pick up from Alex. It had to have been something big that she couldn't have just kept at their place. But then again, if she did keep it at their place, he probably would've found it and ruined the surprise.

"Listen, when I left this morning daddy was still sleeping, so we got to be quiet."

daddy? what?

The door to their shared bedroom slowly opened and the head of his girlfriend peaked from around the corner to check to see if he was still sleeping and when he wasn't, the door quickly closed.

Lando tossed the covers back, walking over to the door. There stood y/n, but his eyes instantly went to the puppy in her arms. "Uh... who's dog is that?"

"You weren't supposed to be awake, but he's yours."

"Mine? What do you mean?"

"Remember when I said I had a business meeting back in England and couldn't go to the Brazilian gp? I did go back to England, but it wasn't for a business meeting. It was to go get this little fella."

"You got me a dog for my birthday?"

"Yeah," she nodded her head, handing the puppy over to Lando. "I could tell you wanted one when you did that video with puppies at MTC, so I went above and beyond to get you a puppy."

"Does he have a name?"

"I've been calling him Chuck because an actor from a tv show I watched as a kid and their name was Chuck Norris."

"Chuck. His name is Chuck."

---

tagging:

@patzammit @mrspeacem1nusone @alexxavicry @catswag22 @eugene-emt-roe @bibissparkles @cherry-piee @khaylin27 @evie-119 @green-thots @2pagenumb @myescapefromthislife @ironmaiden1313 @lottalove4evelyn @mynameisangeloflife @newlifeforus @jxnellat @loloekie @c-losur3 @czennieszn @d3kstar @reiofsuns2001 @sweate-r-weathe-r @itsjustkhaos @hiireadstuff

[clitorphosis]

DOLL PARTS

Death Island Leon S. Kennedy x reader | 18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, KIDNAPPING, DUB CON SEX, SMUT, female reader, age gap, abusive relationship, guilt tripping, Stockholm syndrome, dumbification ig, rough sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, choking, creampie, finger sucking, bruises, implied physical violence, internal conflict, teasing, guilt, implied obsessive behavior(Leon) i think, dirty talk, pet names, degradation.

Summary: There is a deep desire to hold onto his past, on the part he is close to lose after every birthday date. And you are perfect for this. For him, to kidnap you is to save that part. Cause life goes on and without him, but yours can’t go on without him now. Of course you don't understand.

notes: this is a mess I fear, but I had a blast writing this tho so idc LOL!!! Also thanks @writingwisterias for letting me bother you with my rambling and my indecisiveness with kidnapper leon（╹◡╹）I don’t condone anything here in real life. :3 uhm, reblogs, asks or comments and any kind of feedback are really appreciated!

tags: @melanchol1cs

Clocks are ticking, not only in real time but in his mind - a disturbing reminder of how at his age Leon wasn’t even able to settle down. Tick - tock. Of course, men can always find a young woman, and two or three times of unprotected sex would be enough to impregnate one. Still, Leon doesn’t believe that applies to him - alcohol is not only a boner killer but also of fertility. Neither does he crave babies, he can be considered a dad to Sherry, also they would only show how time flies. She is enough of a reminder, no need for more.

He found you on the dating app - Sherry suggested he try, as a joke, probably not expecting him to follow the advice.

For him, you looked like a doll. Almost a godsend. Pretty, young, and easy to manhandle. Almost drooled at the prospect of having your legs wrapped around his waist. He should feel guilty or disgusted at the idea to fuck you… at the images of the material of your panties clinging to your hips, wrinkling up with every movement before his fingers would curl under it to tug them down. Right? No-no, he is only 38 years old - at his age men are already bald, Leon is having an easy time here. He has a chance, always had.

While he was unsure what to do, was a simple ‘hello, how are you’ enough for you? Or would it be too simple? Or repulsive? Why is he even worried about that, you probably matched him on accident.

You texted him first, something he didn’t expect from a young woman - even women of his age don’t text him first, they are dry and uninterested. Like sex with them.

“hiii ^^” This forces a smile out of him. Again, three dots appear. “You didn’t swipe me as a mistake, right?:3”

He hesitates, his thumb floats on the digital keyboard for a moment. No, it wasn’t a mistake, still, he needs to gratify his ego. “If it was, would it get you sad?”

“yep, actually, very big big sad!”

That was it. Easy and quick to get closer to you. He expected more obstacles, maybe times changed indeed or you are into older guys. All he needed to do was to open his wallet, be nice enough, and show how a ‘real man’ should treat a woman.

Leon knows a lot about you. He knows too much information - where you live, your college, and where you work. Not in a creep-like way, no-no. You were the one asking him to drive you there. Maybe your youth is the only problem to blame on - you were a chatting box endlessly and easily sharing anything with him, maybe things you should not have to. Somewhat, this only attached him to you.

There are always some subtle hints and hidden alarms, no one usually gives a shit about. Also, understandable, to ask anyone who knows him - hard to find someone with a bad opinion of Leon.

“He is okay”

“A hero. Not everyone is capable of saving the president’s daughter” or a simple shrug.

Outside his work, Leon is… just a guy most of the time. Yes, of course, not the luckiest one with the ladies, but it is unlikely someone would describe him as the type to kidnap a girl. No one understands how middle age crisis is going to be hard to handle, he is pushing 40, surely enough it is already waiting for him at the edge of the doorstep - and Leon had enough of bullshit in his life, a pretty and young woman is the panacea for this. The godsend pill to erase his problems.

And finally.

Finally, the tremendous loneliness will disappear, leaving it behind him like a bad dream. The feeling that everybody in the world is doing something without Leon. He can’t stand this ever-consuming loneliness to spread anymore, today IS the day.

He can let himself be selfish just once. Right?

To reach his goal, there is a small step though, a sacrifice to make. That’s why he set a date, in a good and expensive restaurant too.

And today is the day. This shouldn’t be forgotten. The biggest day. The most important one. No, doesn’t do the justice. The absolutely, positively biggest day, may be the right choice of words for Leon.

On the spot already, waiting for you. This time he isn’t late. That bad habit since 1998, but for once he didn’t struggle with his punctuality - too petulant about what will happen, checking clocks every second. Almost like a goddamn teenager, shifting the weight from one foot to the other on the spot. Nothing can go wrong, he tries to calm himself, there are so many ways to cover your disappearance. Perks of the job.

He didn’t notice how you arrived here too until your perfume brought him to senses. Your face is soft, your eyelashes flutter and you are so untainted. Your younger frame reminds him of himself your age. 21 years old, 1998. When he was at your age he had already witnessed horrors, you don’t realize they still exist. Leon shakes his head, that memory never brings anything good, but today his mood is not ruined and the memory has only strengthened the urge to keep you close.

Leon needs you, untouched by horrors and he knows much better how life can be terrifying.

“You ready?” He flashes a smile, his mood is more upturned than it has ever been - you can’t help yourself, a grin spread across your face too. It is infectious.

“Mmm, I am” you nod, curling your hand around his elbow, to keep yourself closer to him. And he is ready too, god, he has never been so fucking ready in his life.

“Not late this time,” His heart clenches at your words, and he looks into your eyes with a cocked eyebrow - awaiting whatever you came up with. “not like you at all, should I expect a surprise?”

“Maybe, maybe not” He brushes off with a shrug, a smile is still on his lips as you get closer to the car, but he can feel your excitement.

“A ring maybe?” You giggle. He opens the car door for you to get in, you don’t want to let go of his arm.

“A ring? Already?” He says and shakes his head. No, not a ring, but a different surprise. He kisses your lips in a chaste way, hoping you will not try to harp on this topic. “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart, wait for it”

…

After dinner was different. A drop of temperatures and an easy flow of the air, dull lights of the street lamp illuminating your figures, inhaling the air in your lungs for the last time. The street is empty; no drivers, no smell of cigarettes, just you and him. And… silence fell upon you both.

Until his hand presses a tissue around your nose. It is suffocating; your nails dig into the arm, trying to worm out.

“Shhh, sweetheart, easy there” His voice brushes against your ear, soothing and intimate. The one he used when he fucked you. “Don’t make it worse for yourself...”

The warm body pressed against your back and kept you close until your body became pliant in Leon’s embrace on the silent night.

Tied up and unconscious. He is considerate enough to not let you experience the narrow space of the car trunk. With heaviness in his chest and like a scaredy cat, driving to his apartment - guilt shifts to euphoria in no time. You wanted this, no? Why would you stay with him after all? It doesn’t matter anymore. He was successful, finally. It worked. Today is his luckiest day, it should be highlighted on the calendar.

While this is the uncomfortable memory of your last date.

…

Every time you are alone, there are little things to do - you could have done some projects for college, maybe talk to friends and go to clubs. To catch a pretty guy, to have sex in the bathroom of the said club. Or fall in love with a guy of your age. It fills you with love and excitement like your hypothetical phone is going to ring as if you aren’t forced to be in Leon’s apartment.

Leon says you are a doll. Not those plastic bimbo dolls you see on social media with plastic acrylics that are longer than their eyelashes. Those reeks of cheapness by trying to be expensive, Leon has explained the difference to you. You are not Barbie or Bratz, those are ones you’d probably played with in your childhood, for Leon, you are another kind of a doll.

He is the one controlling you, making those dumb rules you’ve never memorized and you aren’t really going to. His grip around you is tight and your skin blooms with darker colors after playing with you.

Pretty, that word lives rent-free in his mind, almost becoming the most used of his. Favorite word. Your presence urges him to dress you up. A glance into the closet, most of it contains dresses and other items he has bought you. To take care of you, Leon almost emptied his wallet entirely for you a lot after getting you. It excites him. Admiring outfits he put you in and the same night, he is the one raising the fabric of your dress - two fingers or a dick inside you are enough to make you busy with moans and squirm.

He loves it, oh, he adores it. And your pussy is the best. It calms him, centers him - being someone’s center of the world is delightful, the only one time of the day in which he doesn’t feel insane. You make him feel sane, on the days when your mouth doesn’t run free.

From your point of view, he looks like he is trying to play house with you. In a wrong way. Playing house didn’t include tears or forced silence. Or forced participation. It should be fun, usually, it had been, at least in your childhood. Leon acts like this is normal like he didn’t just kidnap you during your date and force you to be here. He is still sweet, still spending his money on you (even though he doesn’t care about your preferences now), there is food on the table too. During the dinner, the silence is filled with stories from his work - names of people you don’t know. They don’t know you either, you aren’t the most famous captive girl on the planet after all. This is the bare minimum.

What’s more to ask for? Freedom, you are full of his shit actually, you would have preferred ignorance to be bliss cause his farce makes you feel insane. More unanswered questions flood your mind, they stick to your mind like a leech on the skin after a fresh swim on the summer day. You need to wash away this feeling, the only way is to question him. Right. First, you played nicely, still pitying him and holding him dear to your heart.

“What are you talking about, sweetie?” And a confused expression was his answer. He doesn’t even process what you said, just moves on. This didn’t work. Nothing fucking works here.

Now you prefer to poke those facts at him - like a harsh whiplash, a cold water against his face to bring him back to reality. You shouldn’t live like this alone.

Under your flesh there is a hidden hole filled with turbulent waters, almost tearing you apart - suffocating you with confusion. You wish hatred was the only reason to keep you sane, but the deep affection towards him still emerges like a bad dream. His tired eyes with loving and sweet nothing words come from his mouth, peppering your body and face with kisses when everything is right. The memories of nights with him flash in your mind: he is nice enough not to break you, while your body reacts in natural ways. You get wet, you feel pleasure, and his fingers know just the right spot to make your back arch.

This tears you apart, it confuses you too. Maybe there is something you don’t catch on, something missing. Conditioning? You aren’t a mindless idiot, nor a Pavlovian dog, but your body reacts like one. Maybe that’s a lie to reassure yourself. Still, you can’t drive yourself close to orgasm when he is not home. Your fingers aren’t enough anymore, almost with tears trying to get yourself off. To feel like your own person without him.

But something. Is. Always. Missing. You are incomplete.

…

It is already late, really late. Leon is a busy man, at least his job seems to be really important - so important, that he has always refused to tell you, avoiding the topic like the plague and switching to that honeyed tone, talking to you like a dumb puppy. Maybe it is some government shit job, something dirty - suitable for him.

But when he is late, many hopeful scenarios emerge, the most common is his car crushing to death. Good girls get gifts, their wishes get accomplished also, and they end up in heaven too - Leon told you that and to him, you are a good girl. Corny shit. Could he be right though? What if your wish was heard finally? Then remained trouble in your life would be to get out.

And the same dreams are crushed every time the sound of the car engine goes off, the jiggle of keys reaches your ears. You know it too well, you can recognize these little details and they fill you with dread. The sound of his steps, they are so different from others. The sound of his car doesn’t sound like those outside his house. Maybe you are insane, but everything he does is so recognizable it makes you sick.

And Leon is back.

His face is the only one you see, even in your dreams. There is nothing changeable in it. Light stubble, but still him. Shaved and it is still him. Different cologne. And still him. Leon sickens you, this little play often pushes your buttons, urging you to break this act and get yourself into trouble. Maybe the remains of hope are to blame, maybe Leon would change his mind and stop this.

He plops down on the couch, drawing your attention to him - impossible to ignore, if you did, you wouldn’t stop hearing the end of his complaints. His black shirt strains across his muscular body, the fabric is not shy to outline his big chest. Black suits him, but Leon looks good in everything forcing more dread stir in your chest.

“Finally, home” Leon sighs, his hand creeping up to pull you into his lap, acting unbothered. Your legs straddle his hips, facing him. Don’t forget, you are captive. And this is the part of the routine. He is going to watch those old movies from his childhood, or work silently(maybe he will nudge his cock inside you, to keep himself warm) and then he will fuck you. A tearful routine.

“…yay..!” You try to smile, forcing it to please him. Ignoring conflicting feelings in your body, anticipation to feel his dick mixed with dread. A yearning for change. Leon kisses your forehead.

His blue eyes feel heavy on your face, making you feel so little. “I missed you” Leon cooed with a honeyed tone, pulling you even closer. That light smell of beer coming from him forces your skin to crawl. His fingers pinch your cheek, tugging it briefly too. “My doll felt lonely today, right? Without me?”

Again, that mocking sweetness. The one you’d use for puppies. You nod with a hum “Mmm”

“I had a bad bad day today, those reports dried my eyes, god” he groans, his head tipped back, rubbing his eyes as to emphasize his words. But still gripping your waist. You don’t have the mood to be nice to him, his smile and relaxed expression stir dread and hate towards him. And yourself.

“You look like you had a bad day and not me” Leon comments, raising an eyebrow before his thumb tugs on the corner of your lips - smile. You had a bad day forever, your day can’t be compared to whatever he had today. His voice is sweet, but condescending, like he knows what is better for you. Leon doesn’t know shit.

“I don’t think you have reasons to be upset, huh? Your life is easy, baby” He snaps his fingers. Like an order. “pretty smile for me, no one likes grumpy girls”

“You are fucking sick… you know that?” Words spill out quickly and mindlessly, ignoring his distorted expression - you just want him to be in pain. Like you are. There is a hint of fear in your voice, subconsciously aware of what is going to happen after your words. “… you KIDNAPPED ME and you want me to play along with this act?…” A bittersweet pause. Adrenaline rushes through your blood, like after a good shot of vodka. “That’s fucking smart… asshole”

A hard swallow, trying to ignore the growing lump in your throat. Anxiety. This time, your voice is much quieter, you feel so small. Involuntarily shrinking away to shield yourself from what is coming. “I hate you”

There is an uncomfortable silence and his face is not blurry anymore - it is the only thing you can see right now. There is no slap, which is worse, silence is much scarier than a reaction cause you need to know what is going on in his head. You should have stayed silent instead, maybe Leon was right - you can’t stop but back talk and try to get yourself into trouble. You got yourself into this, not him.

Maybe an apology… wouldn’t it be late? Would it save? God, you MESSED this up. There is no way back.

His eyebrows furrowed, looking down at you with a clear discontent painting on his face, his fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks - uncomfortably keeping you still. This time being pretty and batting your eyelashes like a dumb doll is not going to save you.

“You are so spoiled. No one likes ungrateful bitches like you” Leon shakes his head, not giving a space to you to talk back again. “I buy you pretty things, I spend my time and money on you… and you repay me like that?”

He tilts your head, the grip is bruising, almost. Leon doesn’t give you flowers, but bruises look like them quite enough. His words hit you like a slap, making you feel like there is something tremendously wrong with you, not with him.

“Is it so hard to play nice and stay pretty for me?” He adds with a raised eyebrow. His thumb caresses your lower lip, playing and tugging it down, before pushing the digit past your soft and tender lips.

“And quiet.” He tsked, feeling warm saliva clinging to his thumb as it pressed down onto your tongue. Lucky for Leon, one of his wishes is accomplished - you can’t really talk, only muffled words, while your mouth is occupied with his digit. He keeps the grip on your jaw, before replacing it with two fingers. Pointer and middle finger. You are so pretty when you keep your mouth shut or around his fingers. Or dick. The latter is much preferable.

Your mouth is always warm, inviting, and wet. Hard to hide how such act affects you, your breathing catches in your chest, as his fingers keep rubbing the front of your tongue - messy and slick, not wetter than your cunt right now. Your mouth can not be compared to your pussy though, it has much more pros than disadvantages, the only con is the lack of wetness sometimes. Not something unfixable at the end of the day, a spit or lube (if he is in a good mood) can fix anything.

Your eyes are closed, feeling his other hand keeping your head pointed up where he can see you. To be honest, you don’t really know if you are just trying to illude yourself and hide from the truth - both options are useless, they bring you back to him. Every time his fingers are in your mouth, keeping you quiet and forcing you to suck on them - your pussy gets wet quickly like it is connected to your throat. His fingers delve deeper, moving in and out slowly. You can’t help yourself. Your clit throbs uncomfortably, urging you to do something about this, and your inner walls flutter around nothing - your mind reminds you of how good his dick feels. You probably look so pitiful to him, your eyes reflect well what your body begs for while drooling around his fingers.

Your thighs try to snap close, to rub them together and get that sweet-sweet stimulation, but they end up straddling his hips tighter - feeling the outline of his hard cock press against the damp and thin material of your underwear. It isn’t a big obstacle right now, the burning heat can be felt easily. A choked whine escapes from your mouth, realizing that his pants are still on him.

“Uh-huh, you want my attention?” Leon asks, not trying to be subtle with his tone, laced with mocking sweetness. His fingers leave your mouth with a wet pop, leaving a trail of droll connecting you both. It is so empty without him filling your senses. His eyebrows curl up, glaring down on you like at kicked puppy. He mocks you, another squirming heat crawls in your cunt. Embarrassingly wet, dripping, and staining his jeans with your slick. God, you ARE getting off when he is being patronizing with you. “You ruined my day, baby. Do you really think you deserve anything right now?”

Your mind is screaming at you to do something, you need that relief. His cock. Anything that will fill the emptiness inside you with pleasure. You shiver when his fingers brush across the hem of your underwear, clearly amused by how wet you are. They push aside the fabric, already wet by your saliva - slowly stroking your drenching folds. So warm and puffy, even the light touch of his fingers on your clit makes your body jolt like you are in pain.

“Leon…” Your voice sounds cloying, it goes straight to his hard dick, as you look under your eyelashes at his face - it makes you feel dumb. Any sentences or words are thrown away into the bin under his glare, he doesn’t even try hard to make you feel like that, there is no need cause you are dumb. And you ache for his cock, ignoring alarms in your head. You are just a dumb, aching doll.

And his. He told you that.

“What?” Leon pressed, already withdrew his fingers from your cunt, wanting to see you more desperate. Your hips try to grind against his hard cock, to get a light stimulation. You stay silent, words aren’t enough to formulate what swirls in your mind. Somewhat, his presence and words are always tied to that deep feeling of owing him something. What? Not clear, but it is still here, even if his cock empties your mind.

You are still his after the dramatics you pulled, right?

You swallow hard, the sight of his unmoving hand on the belt makes your cunt painfully ache, ignoring your mind screaming at you to hit him. You don’t deserve this, it whispers. The guilty part of your brain won a long time ago, it overwhelms that soothing reminder - canceling it completely - you need to hurry up him. You are at fault, it whispers. “…Please…” Forgive me, I need you.

You gasp as in rasp motion he changes your position, shoving you and you end up with your back pressed down flatly on the soft material of the couch, while Leon hovers over you. And he kisses your forehead, with the same tenderness and affection he has given you before - like a couple, married couple on honeymoon. Your mind misses the bullseye with this conclusion, but whatever helps, right? The spot burns hot, as a reminder that you have to please him.

Clink-clink! It snaps you out of your thoughts. The sound of his belt makes your skin crawl, and more slick pools in between your thighs like at the unvoiced command. You try to buck your hips up, only to end up restrained by his hand - it grips tightly your flesh, in a bruising hold, and the signs will bloom into another purplish collection in the morning. His hand pins your hips down, - silently denying the control over your pleasure. Couldn’t be even wetter at this point.

It isn’t really visible, but his breathless sigh signaled you that his hand is, probably, wrapped around his cock. You squirm, to prop yourself to look down and maybe get comfier - again, he pushes you down with a head shake.

Your legs shake when his cock presses up in between your drenching folds, the slick clings to the skin, and his cock head nudges against your aching clit. And this hits so good too, his hard cock slides across your cunt. You can’t help but let your hips buck up back, again - to get your own control on the pleasure. Tsk. Your attempt gets easily interrupted again, as his hand pushes your hips down. His cock gets harder after every slow and agonizing rut, the wet sounds of your slick pressing and smearing his cock is like music to his ears. No wonder it is so easy to get lost, thank god your attempts to worm out of his grip snap him out of that pleasure.

You are so impatient. But for Leon, sex is so much simpler, cause he is a simple man. With age many things change, they get uncomplicated. Of course, Leon likes good stuff; tasty good, keeping you pretty, watching how your tits bounce with every thrust and feeling your flesh under his hands, how you react to him. But the sex isn’t the lovemaking or a way to satisfy you, for him, it would be useless to keep you here then. There is a deep desire to hold onto his past, on the part he is so close to lose touch with after every birthday date. And you are perfect for this. Life goes on and without him, but yours can’t go on without him now. Every time he sees you so confused, depending on him - he can’t lie, it makes his cock jolt. He wants to see every little expression on your face, - desperation, affection, confusion, misery, everything - to etch the sight into his memory.

“Baby, you don’t know what’s good for you..” Leon says, there is no answer from you and he doesn’t really need one. His eyes are focused on his cock nudging your hole before slowly pressing in - now watching your spasming and drenching hole swallows his cock. And you gasp.

Without fingers, without any preparation, but wet as hell, you still feel tight as sin. It is easier to get through though. The velvet softness of your fluttering cunt is addicting as your walls clench around him in a vice grip with every inch pushed inside.

It is dizzying how your mind empties together with your body, any remains of conflict regarding this situation is gone. Focusing on how his cock stretches your walls, leaving you breathless and trembling at the slow-filling sensation in your cunt. Your hands creep to rest on his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

His cock pushes through, until its tip presses against your cervix - he is deep inside, his hips nestled right against your ass - and your pussy is so overwhelmingly full, for a moment you forgot how to breathe.

“That’s okay” Leon cooed again. His hand brushes across the skin of your collarbone, caressing it. Burns and you are hot, to the point his touch felt cold. You shiver, his hand is always pleasant to feel, but at the same, the feeling of it is accompanied by something else, you can’t ever catch it. It is brief but always gives you awareness.

Your chest rises up and down unsteadily, looking probably pathetic right now as his hips start moving. Already overwhelmed without a way out.

“Awww, you are just a dumb thing, not knowing anything better” Leon drawls with an amused smirk.

The pace is set, rhythmically rocking against you, using your cunt like a toy. You want to roll your own hips back, to do something but today isn’t your day. You already forgot about your earlier lash-out, as the only sounds reaching your ears are flesh-hitting ones mixed with your moans. His lips are parted on a soft stream of pants.

“N-no..” This attempt of protest slips out easily from your mouth, without giving too much thought into what may happen. Your nails dig into the flesh of his shoulders. His hand creeps higher, to rest on your neck in a loose grip, a silent warning perhaps. Pretty faces don’t need to do anything other than being pretty, but tonight you let your mouth slip out too often.

The hand on your hip pushes it down again, the grip hurts actually. Feels like there are already bruises forming and he is clearly not pleased with you. He isn’t at all, your comments ruin his fun. They distract him from your tight pussy, how hot it is, and engulf him, begging him to thrust ruthlessly and fill you.

Unspoken rule, you should be silent and let him use your cunt without other noises than incoherent moans.

“Oh, no-no” Leon mocks you, a sharp, unexpected thrust, his cock head grinds against your cervix. To punctuate his words his grip on your throat tightens. Or you are imagining this? Another thrust, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hips start dragging his cock out of you, then he pushes it back deep inside. “I know what’s better for you.”

Every deep thrust into your spasming cunt, your thighs shake, and muscles in your body flex every time your hips connect. And his hand squeezes your throat, you can clearly feel the outlines of his fingers on the skin of your throat. God, is the grip getting tighter? Is he trying to cut the air? This fills your body with panic; it writhes even more, ignoring the painful grip on your hip and becoming more aware of the one that’s getting tighter around your neck.

Yeah, he is angry at you.

“Doll, you brought this… on yourself” Leon whispers breathlessly, watching your expression twist with a mix of pleasure and fear. Your hands travel from his shoulders to his wrist, nails dig into its flesh. “don’t resist”

His hand angles your hip better, losing the rhythm of the pace as his cock pounds into you in quick and deep thrusts. It hits your g-spot too, but the lack of air is the biggest of your worries right now. Your cunt flutters, getting tighter with the less air incoming, and more tingly wave of sensation rides over your body. The tips of your fingers feel weird, and your entire body starts to drown in numbness. It is weirdly pleasant but at the same time scary. Deep down you like it, not realizing it.

“Come on,” Leon grunts, his grip on your neck doesn’t lessen, and you try to focus on something else other than the possibility of passing out. Your walls clench around his dick tighter, and your mouth opens uselessly as a dumb fish trying to speak, but the only sound coming out is a muffled one.

“If you are so smart… fuck…” He moans, you feel so good, your walls clenched tight around his dragging cock and your body is so easily letting him use your pussy. He can get drunk on it. “…use your big mouth”

His grip tightens, and another choked moan tries to drawl out of your mouth. Nothing comes out other than a quiet, pathetic mewl. It feels like you are going to die.

“Use your filthy and smart mouth” He taunts again, the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk. His hips thrust into you in rough and hard movements. It feels like just his presence is overfilling you. Maybe the lack of oxygen is to blame. “or you can only use it for my dick.. huh? Like a whore, not a doll”

“A…m, S-s” I am sorry. You try your best, but it is hard to do multitasking when your head is so lightheaded and his dick inside you feels so good. Your body feels numb like it doesn’t belong to you anymore, writhing and squirming every time his cockhead hit your cervix - a pang of tingling mixture, something so new and pleasurable, but at the same time foreign, with the hint of pain. But it is a delicious kind of hurt, toe-curling one.

You are going to pass out, trying to swallow down the saliva pooling in your mouth and your nails dig into the skin of his bicep - begging, unawarely your eyes sprinkle with tears. “S-..sor-r—” This is your best attempt.

Orgasm has always been different with him, it is warm, still keeping your turmoil. This time it is crushing, but feels shorter than it was actually. It hits your body unexpectedly, filling to the brim with the feeling of his cock spouting cum inside you, while every patch of your skin is numb and burning hot.

Confusing your mind more when his hand slipped away, so close to pass out and the quick rush of air fills your lungs almost choking you, overwhelming the pleasure of your own orgasm. You are so sensitive, at the brink of tears - not having any strength to keep them in, they easily well in your eyes, blurring even more the vision before rolling down. It doesn’t hit like it should cause you are too focused on the fading numbness and shaking while inhaling the air - unreasonably afraid(to Leon) that he is going to take it away again. Breathing feels much better than sex, right now at least.

He pulls out his dick, and his cum slowly oozes out of your hole, while you are still recovering. Not hiding where his gaze is directed. It is hypnotizing, urging him to shove it back into you with his fingers and keep his cum inside you for a little bit longer. You snap him out of this trance with your sobbing and incoherent words.

“I am so—sorry!” You sob, tugging onto the fabric of his black shirt to pull him closer to you. Seeking comfort in him, you don’t have any other options. He can’t deny this to you, his arm wraps around your shoulders. And even if you had other choices, still you would crawl back to Leon. “I was mistaken… I am so-so sorry. It was a mistake!”

God, you shake like a leaf right now. He huffs as if your words were the most obvious thing. Like the sky is blue or two plus two is four. It is hard to push you away, the trembling and teared-up mess. Leon enjoys that.

“There you are, baby. I got it” Leon sighs, the crease in between his eyebrows deepens. His hand brushes away your hair from your face, to get a better glance of your state. Mistake. Everything is a mistake here - your presence, getting off only of him, texting him first, and letting him take you on dates. Leon can’t help, but chuckle. “Of course. Indeed a mistake, doll”

[elene78-blog]

Hey... I've read a lot of things about Kevin and Jean's interview, and I don't think they're ever good things. I understand. Nora said she wouldn't be too careful with Kevin and Jean, and saying TGR will be just as sad as the first one doesn't give us hope.

Because of this, we think that this interview will go wrong, but... Let's think about another possibility that is also very plausible due to the title of the book and so as not to repeat dynamics that already occurred in TFC.

And the interview goes well. It comes out damn well.

This would make a lot of sense if you think about it, because it's Kevin who will be handling the interview, and he's an expert at this. Kevin knows how to act. Kevin will know exactly what to say to get what he wants: for Jean's image to improve.

In fact, Kevin will just have to tell the truth.

Kevin will explain, with his press smile, that Jean was his best friend at The Nest. Riko was his brother, but Jean was his best friend forever. Kevin will explain that they grew up together and that it was Jean who taught him French. The two speak in French for the press to show closeness. Kevin says good things about his life with Jean. Things we may not even know and that Jean barely remembers, but Jean relives them in surprise when Kevin mentions them.

Kevin says that when he left The Nest, Jean was the only one who supported him (which is half true) because he knew that Kevin wanted to meet his father. Kevin says that he always gave Jean gifts from his trips and Jean says that he still keeps them, even though they didn't hold up well in the move.

Kevin says that Jean was with the Foxes after The Nest for a while, along with him and Neil (bombshell, here it is revealed that Neil and Jean are childhood friends and that Neil went to The Nest last Christmas to be with Jean) . Kevin says Jean went to Palmetto after getting injured at The Nest, so he wouldn't be able to continue playing that season. This caused Jean to have a minor crisis about her career and the Ravens to become very angry at the extreme pressure they were put under, which also affected Riko.

Neil and Kevin took Jean in to get some rest from the Ravens environment. This was when Kevin proposed to Jean to move to the Trojans, as Kevin and Jeremy are great friends and Kevin felt that this step would be better for Jean's career.

Jean appears in the interview as a man with a tough guy appearance, very direct and sarcastic, but with a big heart and kindness (the truth, basically).

And then comes the incredible.

Kevin tells Jean's age when they entered The Nest. He says it anecdotally, but there is a clear intention behind it. Kevin says it was always amazing to play with Jean, because Jean was 16 when they came into The Nest, and yet he was so much better than the other defensemen. Kevin says Jean was very little then, and that only made it more impressive to see him play.

The interviewer is a little worried, so she doesn't mention anything about the rumors. She just says, "So, you're 19 now?"

Jean confirms this and says he'll be 20 in a few weeks/months, and then the interview ends.

Jean ends up being loved by fans almost immediately (and others start to wonder if the rumors are false or there is something very shady going on at The Nest) but Jean and Kevin argue after this interview (for some reason, there are too many to venture).

And then comes the anguish. The anguish of the fight, of knowing what happens with Jeremy, about Jean's parents, maybe Elodie, more topics about The Nest, the Trojans (because I'm sure there will be dramas with them)...

But that interview will turn out well, and that would be the big surprise. Because in that interview people really see Jean Moreau for the first time, and... they adore him.

Contrary to what they always said, Jean Moreau is loved almost immediately.

And after this... They start calling Jean The Golden Raven.

HEY, THAT'S A GREAT POSSIBILITY!

[genderqueerdykes]

The anon mentioning not wanting to cut hair is so so so real for that and I’ve been inspired to say something of my own by that ask.

I hate how almost every transmasculine resource always has some kind of heavy emphasis on the joy of cutting your hair short for the first time, especially if it��s talked about like this universal trans man experience that every trans man has, because it immediately has me questioning if I’m even a guy at all or if the community would ever see or accept me as one. Like if I don’t do this rite of passage then I’ll only ever be perceived as a woman or as some level of nonbinary (which both would technically be correct, but only like 10% of the time, the other 80% I am a dude).

Like yes, a lot of transmascs do want to cut their hair short and this is totally fine, but personally I love my long hair. I love putting it in high twin tails with bows and clips and everything else and in fact one day I’d like to have bangs with this as well. I like having it down and unstyled because I have natural curls and length that make me look like a metal band frontman when I do it. It’s been one of the only traits I’ve liked about my physical appearance for ages and it’s so disappointing to see everywhere go “want to be a man? Great! Cut off all of your hair—“ as like their main or only resource for passing or whatever. I get that it’s the easiest and most accessible option for most people. I get that it’s common for men to have short hair in certain cultures. But I don’t like the imperativeness of it. And I don’t like the assumption that everyone can do that or wants to do that and would pass after doing that. Having my hair short is like genuinely a nightmare scenario for me and I don’t like even thinking about it. It literally pushed back my discovering that I was trans seeing “cut your hair” being plastered as the first piece of advice on every website because kid me saw that and went “oh, trans men want that? I don’t want that, well I guess I must just be a woman then, idk why I’m so sad about that though”.

And then this along with this recent tumblr “Time To Pick a Group and Hate on Them” wave (familiar either tumblr’s tendency for this, I was young and seeing reposts on Pinterest about the whole Ace and Aro exclusionist shit, signed a very tired aroace) with the whole “it’s so much easier for transmascs to pass” thing— like it doesn’t help me much that I like wearing dresses and skirts and I’m fairly chubby, really short, and have big boobs. I have literal fucking I cups. 32 I. I don’t know how to exercise properly since I’ve always had trouble doing it whether I just tire super fast or can’t catch my breath, I can’t bind because my boobs are far too large and I have breathing problems, I can’t go get top surgery now or for the foreseeable future cause I’m stuck living with my unsupportive parents, I already dress fairly masc usually with oversized shirts and everything, and I already have a deep voice— none of this helps me pass whatsoever. If I were to chop my hair off it would do absolutely nothing to my 32 fucking I cups that everyone sees regardless of what I do about them. All it would do is make me sad about not having my hair. No it is not easier for me to pass and I’m not suddenly conforming to gender roles and appearance stereotypes now just to do it. Tbh it just makes me want to not pass even more out of spite. (although being out in this current political climate might not be the best idea at the moment so I’m waiting hopefully only about 4 ish years— that is if I leave this house by then, ok anyway—).

Like oh but “all transmascs have to do is put a flannel on and cut their hair” like 1. If I did that I’d look like my grandma and 2. I have been told my whole life I would basically never pass no matter what I do, what are y’all going on about. Like why is everyone’s idea of passing as a man “tall, slim, rectangle shaped, short hair”. Like, I’m not POC, but at a certain point I can’t help but think that this description is often times really white leaning. Like what about cultures that don’t cut their hair, would they never pass as a man for it? Are they being trans wrong? What about people who are kinda predisposed to being short or fat? And why the hell is the idea of what a GNC trans man looks like always a tiny, white, slender twink with maybe at most big thighs? Are you suddenly not a man if you look any other way and wear a skirt? Idk, fuck it, I’m doing whatever I want.

One day, I want to have top surgery and I want to stand outside in the summer with my twin tails shirtless and I just want to enjoy being outside like that. Idk, I just wish it was more accepted to be anything GNC while still being trans and not being the “ideal” and I wish actual resources for trans issues acknowledged that you can still be GNC more often.

Tangentially related, but it’s really helped me out just getting into a game where a lot of the male characters are pretty GNC in dress and stuff. Like my favorite game series rn, Castlevania, has this character, Simon Belmont, and he’s got long hair, he’s built really hourglass shaped and has big hips, and he wears this tiny mini skirt tunic dress all the time and there’s no official canon design of him ever wearing pants and like, man, it just makes me so happy. Especially cause he used to be the main face of the series for a really long time— and also the character that overtook his mascot spot is also a GNC man with super long hair, Alucard. It’s really nice, he’s goals tbh. Good thing I’m anonymous rn because I feel like I’d get torn apart by the fandom for that take lol, but man does it really really help.

Anyway, this is just kinda a stream of consciousness about general experience being a very closeted GNC trans dude idk, sorry if it’s hard to read in any spots. I really hope you’re doing well, I highly appreciate everything you do here. Even the stuff outside of queer issues, I can relate a lot to the gastro and doctor issues too. You elucidate your topics very well and it’s nice to see someone talking about and standing up for people in the community like this. Take care!

i really wanted to thank you for sending this, i really appreciate it. i think this is such an important ask

Like, I’m not POC, but at a certain point I can’t help but think that this description is often times really white leaning. Like what about cultures that don’t cut their hair, would they never pass as a man for it? Are they being trans wrong? What about people who are kinda predisposed to being short or fat? And why the hell is the idea of what a GNC trans man looks like always a tiny, white, slender twink with maybe at most big thighs?

correct, the hair thing is deeply upsetting for a lot of men where their hair is quite literally important to them & their culture. making an indigenous trans man feel obligated to cut their hair in order to pass in white societies is so fucked up. making men feel obligated to cut their hair in general is fucked, but for some men, having long hair is part of their culture and gender. as you pointed out, some trans men are just naturally shorter or taller. none of these things should matter.

in general a trans man should be able to decide how long they want their hair. when i buzzed my hair short for the first time it was so euphoric. but i enjoy having short hair on most of my head because i have psoriasis. it's not because i want short hair. i actually love long hair, which is why i keep sort of a long mullet or tail of sorts because men are allowed to have long hair

thank you so much for sending this, and for the kind words, i really appreciate it! i hope things get safer so you can be out. there's nothing wrong with being a gnc trans guy, i'm one too, and people have gotta stop policing how men look so hard. it's not helping any man when we do this. we are making men neurotic and feel ashamed of themselves if they don't look like a caricature of a lumberjack. it's not right.

[gingernut1314]

The Rain

Summary: You've traveled with Kusuiuri but now time has stopped. It seems it will rain soon...very soon, but Kusuiuri does not want to face it.

Content: gn!reader, based off the TV show Mononoke (no plot line spoilers), slight dark themes (nothing is truly stated, everything is sort of left up to the reader's imagination, but implied murder and robbery), Kusuiuri in denial, sad Kusuiuri

Word Count: 1.9K

A/N: GUYS I LOVE THIS SHOW AND I LOVE KUSUIRUI!!!! This is my first attempt at writing for this lovely man, so I hope I did okay lol. I hope you enjoy!

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The day was bright yet didn’t fill the air with a stifling, sticky heat. A breeze blew through the grass you sat in, leading the clouds along through the light blue sky. A powdery blue that had you returning your gaze back to the man sitting just across from you. 

His eyes were that blue. His eyes were the sky. They were your sky whenever you gazed upon them. 

“I think it will rain.” You spoke in a voice as airy as the breeze ruffling the long strands of his ash-blond hair that hung over and around his pale face. Kusuriuri didn’t blink. Didn’t move a muscle as he watched you. 

The purple paint on his upper lip might lead one to think he was smirking mischievously at you. That he might not be moving or responding for so long to purposely tease you. 

But you knew better. 

Knew he was far from feeling his usual mischievous ways. That he hadn’t felt like that in…oh…four days?

Had it been four days?

No…maybe it had been longer. 

Seven days? 

Two weeks? 

Three? 

“Go on. Ask me why I think so.” You prompted, leaning forward just a hair. Kusuiuri’s eyes tracked the movement. Eyes that hadn’t left your form in what felt like hours. 

“And why is that?” His voice was typically full of such sensual tones. A purring sound in your ears that would send a pleasant shiver down your spine. 

But not today. 

Not in…how long?

“The clouds. They are so big--so full. Almost about ready to burst of the seams with all that rain in their bellies.” You spoke, eyes drifting upwards just as a pair of clouds might drift. “Ask me when I think it will rain.” 

“When?” 

“Today…soon. Very soon.” You spoke on a near-relieved breath. Eyes cut from the sky themselves narrowed at your answer. 

A clattering of noise sounded from within the large, wooden box sitting just an arm's width away from you both. A noise you knew well. A noise that might have terrified others, but not you. Never you. 

“I disagree.” Kusuiuri’s remained calm. A calm hardly reflected in his eyes. No, his eyes were clouded and bristling. Eyes that cut towards the wooden crate he carried on his back like he could stop the commotion on silent threat alone. 

You knew better. 

He knew better. 

“I know you do.” A small smile pulled at the corners of your lips. “Let us talk about it.” 

“I will do no such thing, I’m afraid.” Kusuiuri simply spoke, eyes finding yours once more. 

“Hum…then we have a rather large predicament on our hands. Wouldn’t you agree?” You asked. His eyes looked so full, just as the clouds up above. So full and ready to burst. They called to the storm lurking within your chest. A storm that shook at the doors you had struggled to snap shut.

“That we do.” You nodded in agreement, letting the sound of the grass shifting fill the space between you two.

“I remember a flower.” Something sharp shot through his eyes. A sharpness you kept your features comforting for. “Golden in make with the most breathtaking detail.” 

“It was just a flower. Why protect it so dearly?” His voice strained against his question. A question that had your mind floating back to a cold day. A cold, unforgiving day that teased your will to keep the storm in your chest back. 

“It was a gift.” 

“Gifts can be replaced.” You shook your head slowly.

“You gifted it.” 

“I could have bought another. I could have bought many other things. Better things than some shiny comb--” 

“It was mine.” That storm in your chest flared. 

Something sharp punctured through your neck. Through your stomach and chest. 

Horrid warmth splashed over your skin. 

Pain flared in your nose, ribs, legs, fingers. 

Nails tore and cracked. Bone.

The storm quelled against the bits of the sky watching you. Quelled against the pale skin of the man sitting before you. Quelled as your eyes traced the red markings around his eyes and over his cheeks. Traced the red paint cutting down the sharp angle of his nose. 

He didn’t even blink at your outburst. At the horrors that flashed over your skin with it.

“It was mine yet they took it.” Your voice gave a small falter, “They took many things.” The breeze brushed over your cheeks like a mother might comfort her child. “That is the truth of the matter, yes?” 

A clicking bang shot through the grassy field. A sound echoing from that box that seemed all too far away. 

It wanted out. 

It wanted to be free. 

And you wanted to help it.

“Stop.” Kusuiuri hissed. A hiss that revealed the sharp points of his canines. 

You smiled at his beauty. Beautiful that was otherworldly. You smiled as you rose to your feet. Feet so numb you hardly felt them as you crossed the short distance between the two of you. He watched you the whole way, chin rising gradually so he could keep watching you as you came to a stop before him. 

“You know the truth…” You whispered weakly. His lips pressed tightly. So tight you thought they bit fuse together as you knelt before him. 

You pressed closer. So close his hardly audible breath brushed against your cheeks. 

Numb fingers felt over the solidness of his arm. Danced down till you grabbed hold of his hand. 

“And you know the shape.” You guided his hand to rest over your heart. His eyes fluttered on threat of close. “You know this shape better than I know it.” Warm fingers reached upwards to feel over the numb skin of your neck. “You’ve explored it inside and out. Watched it walk and dance and run. Watched it sleep and burst with pleasure.” His breath sucked inward on a shakey pull. A shakiness that was beginning to seep into his bones. “You found that shape lying there. In the dirt. Broken. Bent into a different sort of form than it had been that very morning.” 

Your mind floated back to that cold day. To the sharp feel of rock digging into flesh and dirt that had invaded your mouth. To the numbness that had seeped all too quickly into your bones. 

Numbness that had stayed with no hope of it ever leaving. 

“I--” He paused. You’d never known him to hesitate. Never. “I know your body…your shape.” 

A clicking rattled at the box. A clicking that seemed to cut through that never-relenting numbness, if only for a moment.

“Let’s go back to talking of the rain.” He breathed, fingers holding your neck just that more tightly. Fingers that pulled you even closer. 

“The rain is a fascinating bit of weather. How do the clouds keep hold of it? Why does it fall? When does it decide it is time to do so? What is its reasoning?” Kusuiuri pressed his forehead against yours. A forehead that shook once in denial of your words. 

“I don’t want to know that.” You felt disappointment hollow out your chest. 

“Please…I want you to know.” You pressed, numb fingers smoothing down his arm once more. 

“No.” He insisted, eyes squeezing shut. You let your fingers dance over his shoulder and up his neck. Let your thumb smooth over his pale cheek. Over his unpainted bottom lip. His eyes softened against such touches. Touched he leaned into. 

“Why not?” You asked.

“Because I…” He gave another hesitation you had never seen him give before today. “Please.”

“Tsk, tsk. All this over little old me?” You teased weakly, “I hold nothing over any other of my kind.” His eyes snapped wide open then. Both hands moved to grab hold of your face. Hands that only made you yearn more for freedom because you could not feel them. 

“You do. You hold not only beauty over them but kindness and comfort and laughter. You are a friend to me when I’ve gone too long without one.” He had freed you before. Freed you from the haunting horrors your father had plagued upon you. He had shone like an angel washed in golden light when he’d done it. Had gifted you freedom and hadn’t blinked an eye when you followed him all over Japan. You had been with in since that day. Had never once dreamed of leaving. Until… 

“There will be others.” You murmured, fingers messing with the ends of his silken hair. 

“No. There will not be.” You hummed in thought at his words. 

“I heard once people come back…maybe they come back with the same face but with a different name. Or the same name and a different face. Or, rarely, with the same face and name.” Kusuiuri nodded. 

“I’ve seen it.” You smiled at his confirmation.

“I wonder if I will be granted that same privilege?” Kusuiuri's short brows furrowed at your question. 

“I--that is not for me to know.” You nodded.

“How--exciting then.” He looked far from excited. Looked so--shaken by that unknown. You wished to ease that. Wished he wouldn’t worry for you. Not when he didn’t worry for any other who had shifted in much the same way you had. “If I return…you’ll find me and I swear I shall be your friend once more.” 

“You will not remember me.” You pressed your nose against his trying, trying, to feel him.

“I will. My soul knows yours. I feel it…it’s the only thing I feel. I’m certain of it.” Kusuiuri nuzzled his nose against yours. “I…I want you to know the reason…please.” His hold on your face tightened the smallest bit like he might be able to hold you forever.

“...reveal it then.” You smiled brightly at him, cupping his face between your palms and keeping his eyes at level with yours. 

“The reasoning is this: I love you.” Kusuiuri’s face crumbled in a way so foreign to you. In a way so uncharacteristic of him yet it never once took away that beauty of his. Made him more so. Painfully so. “You freed me once. You showed me kindness. You made me laugh and cry and feel things I never thought possible.” The clicking clutter rang sharply in the air the longer you spoke. Grew louder and louder as you felt your body relax further and further. 

“I fell in love with you over and over again and if I am to return one day, I will gladly do so again. And I--I held on a bit too tight to that love…didn’t I?” You chuckled, tears burning over your cheeks. 

The top of the box flew open and silence fell over the world.

The wind blew a bit sharper just as the sun began to be blotted from the sky.

“Free me…one last time?” Kusuiuri’s eyes were like pools of water. Water that threatened to spill over their confines just as yours had. 

Soft lips pressed to yours. Lips you melted into as you always did. Lips that tasted of sunshine and exotic spices and things you mourned to feel again. 

“I know the shape, the truth, and the reasoning of you, Mononoke.” He whispered against your mouth. A small, sobbed laugh sprung from your lungs. A bittersweet thing that had you pressing your lips to his one last time. “And I will free you as you wish.” 

Cold. 

That day was so cold. Full of so much pain and sorrow and regret. 

It was a day that stole not only your worldly possessions but your spiritual ones too. It leeched the very feeling from your fingertips and heart, leaving you feeling oh so hallow.

And yet, as the now stormy sky grew bright in that golden light you always adored to see, you felt it. 

You felt warmth. 

You felt peace. 

You felt the rain.

[thuganomxcs]

The school part of their day in detention already has him regretting ever have touched her, because after all..the only reason he’s even IN THIS MESS was because he couldn’t have kept his damn hands to himself. Dammit, though the ‘sexy’ thought of a teacher-student relationship never crossed his mind considering the teachers he’s had in the past..still.. ❝   𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐚 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐭?   ❞  He utters under his breath as he lays his chin against the table. “We just came out of classes and here you are rearin’ t’ go on more of ‘em too..but if we’re gonna do this..then I’ll go along.” Said Yusuke.

The nerd group who were still there overheard everything, though how could they not? One of them actually had something brilliant to add to the conversation. “If you’re planning on using a mnemonic device then I’d suggest using the grand subject as the ‘main dish’ and then bits of pieces of important information about said subject be the ‘ingredients’. Just the facts, then add little details about those facts as the ‘cooking or preparation directions’ and you should be golden.” The boy says.

The idea itself sounds great, as Yusuke had a way of remembering menu items and the details about them rather easily..far TOO EASY, compared to school things. “Thanks a lot..yeah I’m definitely lookin’ out for you guys…got anyone that stuff ya into lockers anythin’? Cause I’m good at beating up bullies.” He sat back up and cracked his knuckles, though the vision of Yusuke doing that alone had them ‘spooked’. Probably PTSD at this point. 

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard a lot of nicknames in Japan but Thug is definitely one that pops up a lot.” Yusuke said as he continued eating whilst listening to her talk about his cooking. Cooking at school to get word-of-mouth fame, talking about using whatever he could do here as a foundation for something much bigger in the future. “If i’m honest, I NEVER saw it as somethin’ of a career path..more of a way t’ take care of myself. Though ya said that there’s a future in this so I’m definitely gonna check it out. Career path was always a mystery for me, I figured I’d probably become a wrestler or somethin’ since fighting’s really all I thought I was good for.” 

It was a SAD TRUTH, but it was his. “But yer sayin’ I can cook good enough t’ make it a career? Hell then I’ll be the best damn cook the world’s ever seen.” There’s a fire lit within his eyes which gave weight to his words, he wasn’t just speaking out of his ass. Then with curiosity his eyes took a look at her iPad where she added sketches of clothing that she made. “Whoa..ya did all these yourself?? I have no idea who those other people are but hell I can see a manikin wearin’ what you made..hell you’d be big enough t’ have your own mall.” 

His eyes then took a gander at what she’s wearing..it really is fashionable and no one was wearing it..though, other than the boobs he could see why girls would look at her with so much disdain. She’s literally struttin’ around in clothes they’d never have. “I’m impressed ya came here with an end game in mind. My old tutor told me t’ not sweat any of that stuff since highschool is really where ya go t’ FIND YOURSELF. But it looks like you’re already found.”

❛  i’m  startin’  to  think  we  may  have  reached  a  breakthrough,  ❜   tenting  your  fingers  together,  you  give  a  confirming  nod.  ❛  now,  i’m  gonna  help  ya’out,  but  we  ain’t  on  that  type  of  teacher-student  kick,  so  ya’can  get  rid  of  that  idea  right  now.  the  principal  said  we  gotta  stay  after  school  anyway,  yeah?  so,  we’re  gonna  use  that  time  to  also  draft  an  idea  of  how  ya’can  get  these  curriculums  but  also  in  a  way  that  we  can  incorporate  cookin’  into  it.  it’s  gonna  be  trial  and  error,  but  we’re  gonna  figure  it  out.  ❜   you  even  noticed  his  body  language  and  the  lilt  in  his  voice  when  he  spoke  of  the  hobby,  but  the  comment  about  ‘  a  thug  ’  cooking  people’s  meals  made  you  raise  a  brow.  ❛  a  thug?  that’s  what  they  think  of  ya  back  in  japan?  ❜  resting  your  chin  on  your  hands,  sapphires  were  still  fixated  on  yusuke,  your  commentary  brewing.  

❛  let  me  ask  ya’this:  do  ya’see  a  future  with  cookin’?  like  workin’  for  a  business,  ownin’  one  or  even  doin’  somethin’  small  with  it?  a  shot  in  the  dark  here,  but  what  if  ya’showcased  the  food  ya’make  here  in  school?  maybe  make  some  money  and  sell  these  bento  things  here  for  like  ––  I  don’t  know  ––  ten  dollars  or  somethin’?  there’s  no  disputin’  ya’food  is  amazin’,  so  why  not  use  it  as  a  gateway?  ❜  your  hand  gestures  towards  the  area,   ❛   by  startin’  here,  it  will  spread  by  word-of-mouth,  this  can  be  the  foundation  ya’need  to  somethin’  bigger.  that’s  also  my  goal.  ❜  reaching  in  your  bag,  you  take  out  the  ipad  you  were  using  in  the  previous  class.  with  a  few  ticks  and  taps,  you  direct  him  to  your  various  clothing  sketches.  ❛  my  dream  is  to  be  a  well  known  fashion  designer  ––––  be  in  the  same  caliber  as  versace,  gucci,  yves  saint  laurent  .  .  .  the  list  goes  on  and  on.  i’ve  been  sewin’  for  a  long  time  now,  but  I  want  to  own  a  business  and  be  able  to  style  and  design  for  people.  I  even  made  my  outfit  and  this  bag.  once  I  get  my  degree,  the  world  is  gonna  be  my  fuckin’  stage.  if  cookin’  is  ya’passion,  got  to  put  in  the  work  to  make  it  big  with  it,  and  that  includes  gettin’  through  all  of  this.  is  that  a  plan?   ❜

[twcfaces]

^ ladies man whether he likes it or not

[bayetea]

just all of this from moa regarding frank/hazel/leo. the most uncomfortable romantic tension ever because nobody understands it and nobody involved wants it to be there

especially "Hazel's eyes glittered like gold. 'Gold is easy,' she said. It didn't seem that way to Leo--not when he looked at her." like we can interpret this in a few ways. what an interesting thing to think about a girl you just met

and the whole "if this is a private special thing that she's only done with her boyfriend then I either really don't want to try it or I really really do want to try it" like STOP cut the cameras

[verflares]

nothing more frustrating than playing New Video Game and/or digesting new media in general and you're like "mmmm this is kinda bad/boring. honestly." so out of curiosity you look up to see if anybody else feels this way but you are instead greeted with if you think anything about this is bad or boring you need to be put in front of a firing squad

[satorugojoswiife]

What do you think about gojo ships

I feel like I'm pretty indifferent to most of them. This is super cringe of me, but whenever I fall super in love with a character I don't often like shipping them romantically with anyone. 💀 (im delusional I know)

It doesn't help that for some reason the jjk fandom (especially twt) is weirdly aggressive about ships. I know it isn't all the shippers and it's mostly just the loud minority, but seeing so much of the discourse has kinda put me off and I don't really engage much with the ships in the fandom except for rarepairs and selfships bc alot of the time those communities are more wholesome and cozy (if that makes sense LOL)

[moregraceful]

it was once observed by a dear friend that the hours in which i am most alert are like 7pm to 2am which probably explains a lot about how my posts get worse throughout the evening. but also sometimes i look at today where i was just sort of gnawing the couch all day until about 5pm when i wrote an entire fic in two hours and then another entire post about kaapo which to be clear took another two hours bc i had to chase links and explain my passions in a kind way and this was in addition to a church meeting. i would excel as the person who lights and then extinguishes lamps in the night

[mattithecatti]

i’m not a fan of the guy myself, but sometimes i wonder if people would hate demetrius as much if he was white or sebastian/robin were black

[magpie-trove]

I don’t think the “mad at and separated from everyone because they lied to me (ie didn’t tell me the whole truth) so I’m storming off” plot device would work on me, rip to every character that’s been used on ever but I’m different

[crossbackpoke-check]

tagged by ko @tofumilanesa for wip wednesday! big shout out to writevember for making me feel like i can actually call any of these works in progress… your guide to my emoji code under the cut

wip!

🪻🐈‍⬛ - the doc title is still just. YOWLING but i am like 7/8 of the way done with omega yamo fic and hopefully salem isn’t reading this so i can just drop it over a year later with no warning <3

🫃2️⃣ - DEWEY^2 P2!!!! she is almost done (i am lying) but she is so close i can almost taste it. sorry to my pwp that grew its own feelings baby

😇🤭 (🕒 -> 🕜) - rip i’m not telling you about this one until it’s posted but it IS complete aside from being ao3 formatted and the eight billion edits i inevitably do right before full-sending it

☁️💧 - cloud petey fic, which exists mostly as an embarrassingly large tag on a different blog and is condensing into a narrative about as well as water at 30° N/S. the time loop fic also falls under this description

eternally in progress (short list)

🌑🐕 - tyler borzoituzzi exists… there is an index of scenes/plot points… it plays like a movie in my head…

💯❕- fantastic! ‘verse

👁️👻 - stevie brandon seeing ghosts au, which has eight different (now nine i guess but you haven't seen the mustache adam post yet) plots. sorry

just. rotating like a microwave

🍎 - because they didn’t have a pomegranate emoji, this is what i used for the fic that feels like it should be a 50k connor bedard character study hanif abdurraqib/cathal kelly thesis about legends and mythmaking in sports and eating your young. yes i know pomegranates aren’t actually pomes and apples are but it’s fine

🦈 - the one cat da fuck they doing over there meme but about the sharks just like. in general. more on this at five

tagging @colap1nto, @songsandswords, @whitenikes, @gordiemeow, @acheronist, and anybody else who wants to share!!

[taraxacum-vulpes]

why is everyone pretending like cyberpunk edgerunners is good. the writing is so bad i hate it

[joshuamj]

also i watch The Wild Robot the other day and oh my god 11/10, absolutely beautiful in every sense of the word, would cry again 👍