#they have a relationship that's undefinable

[mintmatcha]

happy birthday aizawa i know he can't wait to come home and cream you

You're already washed up and under the covers by the time Shouta makes it back to his house. The keys rattle as he places them in the bowl by the door, his groans as he peels off his shoes, then he whistles low, calling the cats.

A birthday cake is waiting for him in the kitchen, but instead, he goes to the stairs. They creak under his weight, twelve steps in total- a sound you miss when you're at your apartment. Shouta comes into the bedroom, already halfway through unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes crinkle with delight when he sees you, nestled among his blankets as if you belong here.

"Hi, birthday boy," you say. "You should go have some dinner."

There's a flutter of an eyeroll, diluted by his smirk. "Where are Sushi and Sesame?"

You point to the two lumps under the covers, one at your feet, the other at your side. "You know where."

How quickly things become normal with him. There's still no label for what between you - no 'girlfriend', no 'partner', just the two of you, together- but there's the stability of a routine. His spare key is looped on to your keychain, a drawer by the bed is reversed just for you. Even the cats have become comfortable around you.

The shirt gets discarded on the ground. Before you can complain, he scoops down and picks it up, tossing it into the laundry basket. You've already trained him well.

"Can you kick them out?" he asks.

"Say please."

"Please."

You don't move. Instead, you pout your lips together and bat your eyes. Shouta leans against the door frame, brow raised skeptically.

"But they're so cozy, Shou." You giggle your toes and Sushi beeps in protest. "And warm."

He trudges over and pinches at your feet through the covers. The movement is enough to awake the beast; a paw hits back through the comforter and Shouta chuckles.

"There's no space for me," he points out. "It's my birthday."

"You should really have dinner before you go to bed." you say. Aizawa's hand is walking up your leg, fumbling through the blanket. "You're too skinny."

There's a squeeze when he reaches your knee.

"I'm trying to have dessert first." Shouta's voice has dipped down low. "I bet you're just wearing panties under there, aren't you?"

He's right. You're in his favorite pair, the one that pishes to the side easily, but you'll never admit it. Instead, you hook your finger in the 'come here' motion.

"Mm, come and find out."

"Kick the cats out of the bed."

"Can't you?"

He squeezes your knee again, but this time, it's playful. "I don't want to be the bad guy."

"Neither do I!" You throw a hand over your heart indignantly. "I'm just their stepmom!"

Aizawa sits up a bit. His expression goes a bit wider, a bit softer.

"Stepmom?" He says it like it holds weight, like it means something. Maybe it does. Maybe the undefined terms of your relationship are becoming a bit more salient, maybe you're cementing yourself by his side.

"Well," Shouta rolls a shoulder, trying to stay casual as he speaks. "They love their step mom very much."

Neither have you have said that word before. The L One. The one that changes this causal thing into a real relationship. You have to look away for a moment, process what you should say next.

"Well," you say, hand over Sesame's lump of a form. "I love them too."

[ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey]

Hinny prompt: Harry dealing with Ginny’s new fan base.

Ginny is starting to get her first few fan letters. The harpies try and sort them but Harry spots a few on the creepier side OR at a game he overhears some fans obsessing over the fit new Chaser. Have fun with it.😉

This might not be what you meant by "fun," but right about now the most fun thing I could imagine writing was a situation in which horrible, misogynistic men get what they deserve. Can't imagine why... NSFW (language) - Please note, there's some offensive language in this one, included to illustrate how horrible these characters are; NOT meant to condone it. I hope that's clear in the tone.

It would be blasphemous to say it, but Harry strongly prefers attending Ginny’s away matches. 

The furor around the relationship between “The Chosen One” and the rising star Chaser of the Holyhead Harpies had reached dizzying heights. Fans of their relationship flock faithfully to Harpies matches in the hope they might witness Harry cheering for Ginny, or clapping for Ginny, or something equally mundane, made exciting and romantic only because he’s the one doing it. While bizarre and invasive to Harry, this parasocial fantasy is nothing short of a PR dream for the Quidditch Club. 

The Harpies administration had been thrilled to reap the benefits of this excitement, and consequently laid out Harry and Ginny’s relationship on a silver platter: whenever Harry attended a match in their home stadium, he was offered a private Top Box at a prime location, complementary Omnioculars, unlimited food and drink, and a large Weasley Banner adorning the wall behind. 

Ostensibly a generous gesture, but in reality a nuisance, because it meant every reporter in the stadium knew exactly where to direct their cameras every time Ginny so much as sniffed the Quaffle. They’d capture Harry’s reaction and then rush to print it in the paper the next day, with interpretations so loosely based in reality that Harry’s nearly impressed at the creativity.

Once, Harry had sneezed, and his pained expression in the leadup to it was painted as “trouble in paradise” for weeks because it had happened to coincide with Ginny scoring. 

On another occasion, Harry had spent much of a particularly chilly match with his hands in his pockets. Of course, the only explanation for such insane behavior was obviously to hide the nonexistent wedding ring on his finger, which clearly resulted from a secret weekend elopement in the aftermath of Ginny’s spectacular performance against Pride of Portree. 

“They’ve got a point,” Ginny had joked over their morning breakfast. “I did deserve a diamond after that match. What gives?”

“A bit late for that, haven’t you heard?” Harry had said through a bite of porridge. “We’re already getting divorced. I’m having another affair with Hermione at the weekend.”

“Damn,” Ginny sighed. “I wanted to have an affair with Hermione.”

Much more insidious, though, were the stories suggesting that Ginny’s signing and popularity was only because of her relationship with Harry. Ginny swore she didn’t give a flying fuck what the papers wrote about her, but Harry took to ripping every story that cast aspersions at her talent to shreds.

But, Harry had finally got one over on the press. He’d called an uncharacteristic press conference and made an announcement that, due to undefined “security risks” at away stadiums, he was unable to attend matches outside of Holyhead. 

The statement had been worth all of the ridiculous stories speculating about his lack of support for his girlfriend’s career, because it meant that he got to watch the Harpies vs Falcons match – donning a thick cap, sunglasses, and a scarf, in some cheap seat that no one would suspect Harry Potter of sitting in – utterly without audience. Sure, his view of the match leaves a bit to be desired, and he’s cramped next to a rowdy group of Falcons fans, but it’s wonderfully refreshing to swear angrily when Ginny is fouled without fear of a think-piece speculating about his repressed anger issues appearing in tomorrow’s Prophet. 

It’s one of his better lies, all told, and Harry’s inclined to celebrate his stroke of genius. 

It’s not until about ten minutes into the match that Harry is forced to concede he may have celebrated prematurely, as he reckons with the drawbacks to his little caper up close and personally. 

“HI! HO! FALMOUTH FALCONS! HI! HO! FALMOUTH FALCONS!”

The lads surrounding Harry are chanting with such an obnoxious, drunken fervor that Harry can hardly hear himself think, forget hearing the match commentary. They scream with such persistence for so long that they’ve nearly earned Harry’s begrudging respect, when the chant finally succumbs to raucous cheers as Falmouth is awarded a penalty.  

“Nice to have a bit of a doss match this week,” the bloke next to Harry remarks loudly after Falmouth scores their penalty. “Gives Wickford time to rest up before we play Puddlemere.”

Harry squints up at the speeding players above and confirms that Wickford, a thick-necked man and Falmouth’s star Chaser, is indeed speeding back defensively as the Harpies offensive formation takes shape, and not resting on the sidelines. Harry shoots a sidelong glance to his neighbors, perplexed. 

“Yeah, nice of the Harpies to carry on with an all-female squad,” another dark-haired lad chimes in. “I thought they were finally going to give it up after last season. What a joke.”

The first bloke, who Harry observes looks rather like Dudley, laughs ruefully. “Gwenog Jones won’t ever admit the problem, though, will she? They just don’t have the speed or the strength, everyone can see it–” 

Harry scowls. Pricks.  

“She clearly thinks the new recruit, Weasley or whatever, is going to make them competitive again, but–”

“Does she?” the Dudley-looking one snorts. “Or do they just want the Harry Potter fangirls to bring in the revenue? It’s a massive publicity stunt, honestly, just like the whole team.”

The three of them laugh, and Harry’s scowl deepens beneath his sunglasses. 

��I’m only hoping they bring back the swimsuit calendar this year,” the dark-haired one adds. “Weasley’s fit as fuck.”

The group murmurs their general agreement, and Harry takes stock of the hexes available to him. Might be time to dust off the toenail-growing one of Snape’s… But no. He can’t get hauled in front of Magical Law Enforcement again. Robards will sack him. 

“Yeah, the Harpies can fuck around with an all-women team, as long as they all look like that,” the Dudley-looking lad adds, pointing up at Ginny who is now flying overhead, and they all get a particularly good view of her from behind. The blond one jeers. “Wouldn’t mind seeing her strutting around on my calendar in a bikini.”

“I’d go so low as to call myself a Harpies fan for one of those,” the dark-haired jokes, and they all snigger. 

Sod hexing. Harry would quite like to kill them. He’s gripping the metal bars in front of him, knuckles white, imagining creative ways of doing it when Ginny - quite literally - takes matters into her own hands: all of their attention is pulled to the pitch as she feints, drawing Wickford into an ugly-looking lurch before she dodges and cannons a shot directly into the right goal. 

God, he loves her. 

“Damn,” the blond one whistles. “Fit and fair enough at Chasing, I suppose.”

“Potter’s a lucky bloke,” they joke. “I’d let her score on me all she wants.”

Yeah, Harry thinks darkly, today’s my lucky day.

Harry thinks he deserves a medal for the level of restraint he exercises, as the lads continue to offer lewd, sexist, and leering comments about Ginny for the entirety of the match. In fact, the only reason he manages not to strangle them is because Ginny, herself, is shutting them up far more effectively than he ever could. 

“Watch this, Robbins’ll catch her, look at the difference in wingspan–”

Ginny drops a beautiful pass to Gwenog who times her formation perfectly, and the Harpies score yet again. 

“Weasley’s tiny, once they let our Beaters loose on her she’ll be a goner–”

Ginny executes a perfect Sloth-Grip Roll to dodge an incoming bludger, and manages to whip a shot past the Falcons Keeper while dangling upside-down. 

“Knock her off her fucking broom!”

Wickford, clearly frustrated, fouls Ginny – hard. While the referee blows a shrill whistle, Harry lets out a stream of abuse, “Dirty fucking wanker–”

“Oi!” the Dudley-looking bloke next to Harry exclaims with glee. “Have we got ourselves a Harpies fan in our midst?”

Harry takes a measured, calming breath before answering, still staring up at the match above. “Yep.”

The group lets out a gleeful ooh. Harry knows it’s commonplace to give opposing fans a hard time at away matches, but these blokes haven’t got a clue how close Harry is to losing it. He’s about one more comment away from turning them into Aunt Marge. 

He claps when Ginny easily puts away the penalty shot, extending the Harpies already considerable lead. 

“Very progressive of you,” the blond one jokes. “Are they your girlfriend’s favorite team, or something?”

“Or something,” Harry answers through gritted teeth. 

They all jeer. “She’s got you whipped, eh? I hope the pussy’s worth rooting for a pussy-ass team like–”

“I’d watch my fucking mouth, if I were you,” Harry says, his voice low and dangerous. He realizes, dimly, that he must look far less intimidating than he’d like, with his ridiculous hat and sunglasses and scarf covering much of his face. Oh, well. Looks can be deceiving. He’s just finished up with seven weeks of an intensive dueling refresher course with the Aurors. He reckons he could incapacitate all three of them before they even had a chance to pull their wands. 

“Oooh, would you?” they jeer. “What, do you reckon if you cheer loud enough, Weasley will hear you and come over to thank you after the match?”

“Could she thank me too, you reckon?” the Dudley one adds. 

Harry can hear his own heartbeat angrily pounding in his ears. They’re all disgusting pricks, not worth a moment of his time or his energy, but he’s not stupid, either. He’d been, at first, when Ginny had originally signed with the club, and he’d just started paying more attention to the news about the team and the undermining, sexist undertones in all of it. He’d been shocked to see the nasty objectifying comments, the aspersions at their talent, the insinuation that the team was a feminist gimmick, not to be taken seriously. 

Hermione had humbled him with a sharp, “No,” when he’d asked her if she was surprised by it, too. 

He’s not as naive anymore. He realizes these blokes are watching their own team get shellacked by an all-female side, watching as Ginny plays elite Quidditch with their own eyes, and still they’ve got nothing but bullshit to say. 

Helpfully, Ginny chooses that moment to score yet another goal, her seventh. When Harry claps, they all join in mockingly. 

“Weasleyyyyy,” they call, with mocking, lovesick expressions. “Ditch the Chosen One and choose meee!”

Harry turns to them, and asks in a flat tone. “Is that the reason you’ve been rooting for such a shit team, then? You’re hoping Wickford will come and give you a cuddle after?”

“Oi!” the dark-haired one says. “Hang on–”

“That’s the only reason you’d be a fan of the fucking Falcons, isn’t it? If Wickford will take you home?”

“Nah mate, reckon all poofs are Harpies fans, aren’t you?”

The toenail hex seems woefully tame, all the sudden. “Are all Falcons fans pricks or is it just you lot?”

“Oi, relax mate,” the blond one jeers. “We’re just wondering how it all works. How many times have you got to wear a Harpies kit before they let you pull a leg over?”

“Dunno, how many times have you got to wear that Falcons kit for them to win a match?”

“Is that the new Harpies recruitment strategy?” the Dudley-looking one continues. “They only sign slags to the team, so they can shag together a fanbase?”

Harry pulls his wand so fast that they jump back, startled. “Say that again,” he growls, holding his wand in the man’s face. “Say it.”

“Watch yourself,” the blond one says, holding his hands up and pointing to his mate threateningly. “This one’s about to be an Auror, you’re about a second away from–”

What surely deadly threat Harry is a second away from, he’ll never learn, because just then, with a loud groan from the crowd, the Harpies Seeker pulls out of a spectacular dive with the snitch clasped in her fist, thereby ending the match at an embarrassing score of 260-10. 

“YES!” Harry yells, his wand dropping to his side as his eyes seek out Ginny in the air. 

He can’t remember ever finding a win so satisfying, and Ginny quite so attractive as she streaks across the pitch to hug Gwenog Jones in a midair heap, her red hair streaming behind her in the wind. When she lets go, she scans the section she knows Harry is sitting in. Looking for him, like she always does after a match, only this time she’s looking for an idiot in a shit disguise. 

He turns back to the blokes, fury and disgust with them still radiating in his bloodstream, and a reckless desire that he’ll surely regret later overtakes him. Fuck it, he thinks, and he begins to pull off his scarf. 

“What was it you were saying before?” he goads, pulling their attention back to him before they move with the rushing crowd out of the stands. “One of you arseholes is going to be an Auror?”

“I am, and I’ll curse you into next week, if you like,” the Dudley looking-one taunts. “Maybe then Weasley will give you a pity ride, if that’s what you’re hoping for–”

“Interesting offer, but I’ll pass,” Harry says, as he pulls off his sunglasses. A look of vague recognition sweeps across the blond one’s face, though the others merely look a combination of angry and befuddled. 

Harry replaces his regular specs and looks to the pitch just in time to lock eyes with Ginny - she’s found him in the crowd. 

She’s halfway across the pitch, but Harry can tell by the tilt of her head that she’s wondering why he’s gone and taken off half the disguise they’d laughed so hard about earlier. He waves, and despite their earlier agreement to forgo their usual public post-match celebration, she seems to get the message and begins flying toward him. 

He turns back to the blokes and finally removes his hat, revealing the still famously recognizable scar on his forehead. All three of their expressions transform into varying degrees of horror as they recall every horrible thing they’d said over the last hour, and connect just who they said it to. “What the fuck–” one of them mutters. “What the fucking shit– is that– Harry Potter–”

Harry stares directly at the aspiring Auror, memorizing his stupid features as he reddens. “I–” he stammers.

“I wouldn’t count on the Auror thing,” Harry spits. “If you’ll pardon me, though, I’ve got to congratulate my girlfriend. Maybe thank her later, for giving me so much to cheer for.”

He turns just as Ginny arrives to hover in front of him, windswept and flushed with victory and so ruddy gorgeous he can’t think. “You were so fucking brilliant,” he tells her. 

“I know,” she says with that cheeky grin he loves so much, and then she kisses him so soundly that he quite forgets the pricks openly gaping at them from behind. 

For a moment.

He pulls back from the kiss and turns to find them making a hasty retreat from the scene, but not before he hears the telling sound of a camera pop.

The ensuing stories plastered all over the papers the next day - Harry, pictured in his ridiculous disguise entering the stadium, their victorious kiss in the stands - ensure that Harry’s never able to sneak surreptitiously into the crowd of an away match ever again. 

A trade worth making, though, when Harry gives an exclusive interview detailing every disgusting thing the three men identified in the background of the photograph had said, and when Ginny writes a cutting op-ed for the Prophet highlighting the ways in which the press had created the very narrative those three pricks had parroted. 

Of course, it doesn’t solve the problem overnight, nor did they expect that it would. But, it moves the needle, just a bit. When Ginny reads an excellent article detailing the Harpies’ unique formations without once mentioning Harry or questioning whether they might be more effective by signing male players, she smiles. 

The rejection of Winston Winthrop’s Auror application is just the frosting on the cake.

[accio-victuuri]

xiao zhan - us/we album album description ♥️

The album "Us" contains a total of 10 songs, about me, about you, about him/her, about the emotions that everyone may encounter, or the relationship between people in this huge city.

Each song attempts to tell the "me" in different states, encountering or exploring various emotions and various insights. It may be imperceptible and often easily ignored, or it may be a mixture of feelings that are difficult to describe, but it just constitutes a three-dimensional, rich, and similar individual experience. Through the combination of songs, it will trigger familiar emotions and provide listeners with a space to freely experience the flow of emotions. You don't have to laugh when you are happy, you may not cry when you are sad, what else can you do besides being in a daze when you are lonely, and will you cheer when you feel happy. Allow and accept all these emotions such as joy, sadness, loneliness, despair, pain, confusion, etc. If you can't reconcile them in the individual, observe it, experience it, witness it, don't escape or hide, and face the real and complex self.

Perhaps each of us is an observer of this world, and each individual is also a unique experimenter in this world. As independent and overlapping individuals, how can we exist in this undefined and ever-changing space, and how can we blend in and remain unique? Most of us cannot avoid wandering in the space of reinforced concrete, meeting all kinds of people, and exploring in person. Time is hard to turn back. We meet, confront, and interact with different people "face to face", and then "back to back" with many people, and gradually go further and further away. Understanding, recognition, trust, choice and being chosen are always our happy expectations, but perhaps, in many cases, the results are often not satisfactory. Whether life unfolds as hoped, can we keep pace and continue to move forward according to the established goals, or constantly adjust ourselves and explore new paths.

Whether we can find a resonance among ourselves, you, him/her, the inner emotions of individuals and the connection with the world, and gain an extra balance point, so that "we" can be more stretched and relaxed, and have more self-consistency and reconciliation, is the emotional experience that the entire album hopes to reach.

[c-bookwyrm]

Surprise! It's about Constance again.

I talk about how I enjoy femdom quite a lot, because I do. It's usually a subject I consume more rather than write, nowadays, because of how I have been writing fanfics the past few years. Often, I don't picture myself in the shoes of the reader here, I'm imagining a character, whether that is an oc, the mc of the game, or a vague undefined character.

A lot of my fanfics have been leaning towards a reader who is more shy or unsure of herself in some ways verses others. This happened in this fanfic because it was about Constance, who i currently have written (elsewhere) that she is a victim of sexual assault.

This was a fanfic highlighting her not necessarily 'getting over' it, but not letting the usual anxieties that come from it warp her sexual relationship with Gilbert. The way he also supports/wants it is very vague and thin, because the main focus is on how Constance is trying to enjoy herself when she's in 'control' of the scenario (initiating, taking the lead, making decisions) rather than letting Gilbert guide her through it. This is why the anxiety stuff is hammered in.

Daybreak Desires

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Gilbert/Reader Words: 1668 Tags: afab!reader, riding, sleepy morning sex, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie

It’s a quiet rarity to wake up before Gilbert. In your time together, you had lost count of all the times you had awoken to Gilbert’s eye soaking in your features, his sly smile as he stole the first kiss of the morning from you. Today, however, you stretch and sigh pleasantly before realizing there’s no teasing words awaiting you, and in turning you discover your lover still fast asleep.

You can’t help the wonderment that steals your attention in seeing him so vulnerable, so peaceful in sleep. Without thought, your thumb slowly finds his cheek, stroking, easing him from dreams and into reality. It’s slow like the early morning light, but he wakes, eyelids fluttering open in a lazy gaze while he breathes in deep. He smiles upon registering you, words still laden with sleep as he speaks.

“Mmm… What is it, little-”

It’s all he can muster before your lips are on his, greedily stealing what was left to say. Gilbert doesn’t respond, just feels the warmth of you seeping into him with each press of your mouth, but soon he realizes what is happening, and he responds in kind.

This early, his teeth only greet you in gentle tugs of your bottom lip. Small nibbles to elicit soft sighs. Yet you’re treated to much more than you initially hoped; his own sighs mingling with yours, lulled moans of your name coming from his reddened lips.

It entices you to become more bold.

Between the kisses, you reach past your nightgown, hurriedly removing your underwear before you climb on top of his body with ease, pressing your sex against his clothed erection. 

Gilbert groans, a mixture of your name and a curse escaping him in wonder before his hands find your hips, clumsily searching for underwear not present as you tug his member free.

You’re not thinking past your desires, and they plead for you to act on impulses. The second his cock hits the morning air, you’re pressing it against your folds, grinding for friction against your swollen clit.

“Little rabbit,” he rasps, brows knit as he gazes up at you. Stars aren’t in his eyes, only the burning embers of lust mixed with wonderment: he’s never had you like this. Desperate for him so openly without his coaxing.

His voice just spurs you further, feeling shivers down your skin that the pet name still incites. Sliding your hands up your torso, you lean over him so that your lips can meet once more. So that you can taste the hint of pleas on his tongue, but never voiced.

His hands grasp your rear, squeezing, helping move you to rub the head of his cock against your entrance. Wanting to tease yourself alongside him, you press your hips down just enough to take the head of his length in, then slowly drag it out. It’s enough to make him grunt into the kiss, his nails to dig into your cheeks, before you push down again in the same manner.

Clenching your inner walls, pressing him against that wonderful spot within you.

It’s him that breaks the kiss. A groan unbidden, and you use it to your advantage - nipping along his jaw, rewarding him with a moan of his name. It does nothing but fuel the desires between you, and his hands grip hard, but refuse to force you down. 

Nails drag along his skin, etching thin and raised lines on his chest as you settle back onto your knees. The motion has his length easing deeper inside of you, his mouth slack in a silent groan as you take him in to the hilt. 

It’s easy to see the beast inside of him trying to wake. His muscles tense as he tries to shift to his elbows, to begin to sit and control the movements from this point onward- but you’re faster. With a firm hand, you push back on his chest and force him against the sheets, shaking your head as your hips lift. Inching him back out until only the head of his cock remains, and then-

“Mmmph… taking the reins today? Ah!” He sucks in a breath as your hips slam back down, a gasp breaking free as stars fill your head. 

How can you be so sensitive just from this? It feels as though your body is sizzling in barely contained excitement, fires burning within you begging for more fuel to send them blazing. The answer becomes clear, however, when you look down at your lover. Beneath you, he's melting into the sheets with a lazy grin, gazing up at you with such intense love glowing in his eyes that it steals your breath away.

The pace you languidly set makes you sigh happily, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure creeps over your skin. Gone are the anxieties that usually lay heavy upon you. Instead, your mouth opens with mewls you rarely voice, beginning to rise in tempo while you work your hips faster, harder. 

You want nothing more than to feel his lips on you, to steal warmth in the way of kisses and suckling marks upon your skin. But the moment he does so, you know you'll be doomed to lose control, to naturally submit to his spoiling. 

No. This morning, you want to let him feel as though he's still relishing in dreams, to succumb to your needy display of love for him.

Each drag of his cock along your walls makes your toes curl, lewd noises of your sex clapping against his fill the room. Panting heavily, you finally venture your hands along your body, seeking your sensitive spots, groping your breasts. It draws out a moan of his name, and Gilbert echos it with one of your own. 

He still refuses to take control away from you, keeping his hold firm on your hips, following the roll of them with his own. His eyes never leave your face, watching intently, soaking such a display in to burn into his memory.

But you notice something new: his tongue darting out to lick his lips, words attempting to form before he decides against it. The moment you notice is the moment you realize just how lonely your mouth feels.

Stretching over him, you cup his cheeks and bring your lips together with a fierce kiss, whimpering his name as your clit brushes against his pelvis. In seconds, one of his hands entwines with your hair, keeping you in place as he feverishly presses bruising kisses against your mouth, little gasps of your name said between them: a prayer of his, a mantra that makes your head spin more and more.

The reason is clear as he finally shares control with you, pushing his hips to meet yours on every thrust you direct, an unheard of keen leaving his throat as his brows furrow. You've driven him to new depths of voicing his need, and each slip of his pleasure has your confidence swell.

You manage to break apart from his lips, even when he nips yours once in an attempt to coax you back. To make up for it, your teeth trace his neck, worrying the skin there as you clench your inner walls, pulling another groan from him. He's so close. The impatience behind his actions, the way his neediness is rising, forfeiting subtly by the rise of his hips, the lapse in control of his hips.

“Gil,” the nickname is soft on your tongue, rolling off in a seductive tone you rarely muster. In response, his grip on you tightens, “you're the only one who can fill me up, Gil. I need it- I need you. I need to feel you deep inside me. Claiming me- mmph!”

Your own words are broken apart as he groans, pushing into your cunt as deep as he can manage.

A flush of heat pulses into you, making you whimper and clench onto him- instinctively, your pussy clamps down, coaxing him to spill every drop he has. He obliges, this time taking the remnants of control, delivering a handful of slow, harsh thrusts to delve his cum in deep before he inches his cock out of your swollen cunt. Leaving you resting on top of him as he drops his head back, letting out a long sigh of relief.

It's faint, but you can feel the heat that was spilled inside you. The sensation is odd, to say the least, but not unwelcome as it fills your thoughts with satisfaction; a perverse display of his love for you, intermingled with fulfillment of your unspoken wants.

As his cum leaks from your entrance, dribbling down your labia, the droplets collect on his abdomen. There's an impulse to apologize, to sheepishly use whatever is available to wipe away the proof of your desires hitting a new peak, but with exhaustion seeping deep into your muscles, you find it hard to care. You're both preoccupied with filling your lungs again, bathing in the afterglow of new experiences.

As you breathe life back into your tired body, a familiar sensation starts to creep back into your bones. Ache. A buzz of feeling exposed… embarrassment… you feel your cheeks begin to heat up, and it's then that Gilbert chuckles into your ear, arms staying firmly wrapped around you.

Peeking up at him, you're granted a lopsided grin- one that makes his eyes crinkle in joy. And suddenly, you're not so bashful when seeing your lover so relaxed and happy.

His lips find yours in a kiss still lingering with passion from before, cupping your cheek to keep you from shying away. A nip, and he draws out a giggle, smiling into the next kiss he gives you. Again and again, until you have to break to fill your lungs once more.

“Mmn, little rabbit… I like this side of you. You'll be showing it to me more, okay?”

You hide your grin against his chest, relieved from the worry weighted upon you from exploring your desires.

Thank you, Funger music covers, for helping me finally finish this.

This has actually been a wip since...........june................ it's been rough trying to get this out - I wanted to, but life had different plans. It's hard for me to look at it without feeling like it's so-so solely due to the fact that I've reread it SO much and the imagry in my head is hard to convey to words - however!! I think despite that, this is pretty good :] I'm happier with it now. Thank you RJ for cheerin me on with this one.

I think Gilbert loves being topped, and wants to be so badly. Apparently JP version might have an event about this? I'm expecting the typical cybird cop-out, but hey! Pushed me to finally finish this!

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[pjowasmy1stfandom]

Fellow fic readers who are siblings/have siblings, do you ever have moments when you're reading a fic and there's a sibling dynamic and you just go: Ah, this person actually has siblings. Alternatively, when you're writing a fic with a sibling dynamic, do you use your experiences to help write them accurately? Bc I do

[tea-cat-arts]

Honestly, the more I look into mxtx's reasons for not writing side couples (aside from mobishang), the more based I think she is

[y-rhywbeth2]

You ever have an OC that absolutely fucking nobody should date, both for their own good and the ocs? Like; 'you need 1000 years therapy not the pressures of a committed romantic relationship.'

But you give them that relationship anyway, usually with a character who also probably shouldn't be in a relationship right now, because they're fictional and there for you to study like bugs under a glass. And unrealistically it works out despite being a train wreck because you're self-indulgent and want the characters to have nice things. Spicy nice things, with an occasional hint of bitter when you're in the mood. Plus a thousand AUs where it doesn't work out that don't ruin the enjoyment because 'that doesn't happen in the canon-headcanon'

[shoezuki]

Dya have any more headcanons for sampard?

Maybe ideas on how they fell for one another. Would you see it as an X fell first but Y fell harder or a flirting for fun but realising you've caught feelings?

Or have ya got an entirely different view on it! :D Oooooo. Do you perhaps have a timeline for how they traverse the "enemies" to friends to lovers stages.

Can you tell I love all your ideas and headcanons T-T

thankyou anon i am ghglg. im in love w u now. yes i have Many Ideas bout these two bastards like i have so many thoughts you cannot believe. like i have a post drafted where i write hcs when im bored and headin to class lkshglhg. heres some hcs

sampo falls in love first. very, very early in when he is new to the planet and is just drawing the attention of the silvermanes. It's not exactly some 'love at first sight' thing its more like the first time gep almost catches him sampo thinks 'oh he's cute' and a few times after that he's like 'wait im enjoying this. a lot.' and its downhill from there

whether sampo Realizes it is another thing tho. i can see him just enjoying the attention and thrill of evading the silvermanes and not realizing his disappointment when gepard isnt there is cuz hes infatuated w gepard.

but he Would realize it. at some point itd hit him like. why he enjoys the chase so much n lets himself Almost get caught. why hes memorized gep's schedule and where he patrols the most. and it hits him n hes like 'oh fuck. what the fuck. holy shit.... well anyways.'

(probably freaks out to seele over drinks but he's too incomprehensible through his tears n she has no clue what hes whining about)

Sampo flirts and teases gepard unabashedly, kisses grenades before throwing them into gep's arms, saying 'woah youre so strong geppie' while gep punches the wall behind him narrowly missing his face, leaves notes with lipstick marks on em at crime scenes, all that stuff.

but for sampo. it isnt supposed to actually Go anywhere. he knows he likes gepard more than he should and its kinda just to scratch that itch in his heart yknow.

sampo very much thinks that. gepard is the captain of the silvermanes, a wellknown and noble person in belobog, and sampo's a slimy secretive conman that just enjoys pushing the captains buttons. theres no hope for anything more so he might as well enjoy flustering the captain right?

gepard on the other hand. doesnt allow himself to really think of sampo as anything else but a criminal. it takes a long Long time for him to realize he even feels anythin for him

gepard does look forward to trying to bust sampo, though, in a sort of frustrated way. sometimes the front lines or patrols are so monotonous and sampo's tendency to appear whenever gep's bored out of his mind is impressive

he is insistant on arresting sampo and 'bringing him to justice' to an obsessive degree, though. he's not even typically assigned to investigating criminal cases but he has basically inserted himself into bein the lead investigator of any sampo related case now

(intelligence officers and detectives and other silvermane's are so used to it now. they could be investigating a house fire or a break in, find a note with lipstick marks on it and curly writing, and they all just sigh and call gepard.)

sometimes other worry that his insistence on arresting sampo and how dedicated to it is concerning. they ask why he hates sampo so much n he just says 'hes the most prolific criminal in belobog and needs to be apprehended'

(he cant say he hates him, though. for some reason. he cant figure out why he thinks about sampo so much. he just figures its to arrest him)

gep finds himself starting to relax when sampo sends him on wild goose chases n they both leave other guards in the dust. its probably not intentional, how sampo always seems to draw him away to somewhere quiet and secluded when his head is killing him or he's stressed or exhausted.

(its intentional)

sampo falls first, but gepard is absolutely the one who initiates.

i imagine it'd take... something for gepard to reconsider sampo and let himself think about sampo outside of his criminal record

during a chase out in the snow plains, just sampo laughing and taunting him as gep tries to hunt him down, they get bombarded by fragmentum monsters

sampo holds his own; he fights with a sort of viciousness gep has never seen from him. his bombs arent just smoke, but powerful explosives that shatter fragmentum. he's insanely fast and doesnt even break a sweat. but as soon as theyre all dead he pretends he's exhausted and that gep needs to carry him back to the city before giggling and vanishing.

gepard realizes that this whole time sampo has been holding back. he realizes that sampo could easily cut through the silvermanes, use his lethal bombs or easily outpace gepard and outrun him.

he starts thinking about other things sampo does; how natasha mentions he delivers medicine to him, how lynx sometimes talks about finding supplies and food in hidden ruins and obvious places around her camp, or the notes sampo leaves and how they sometimes give hidden hints about other criminal operations the silvermanes have been tryin to investigate.

he doesnt know what to make of it, what sampo wants or why he's doing this. the next time sampo sends him running through abandoned streets in belobog he slows down, realizes that sampo also slows to his pace so gepard keeps chasing him.

gepard asks point blank at some point, what in the hell sampo wants from him, why he's doing this. sampo doesnt know how to answer. just shrugs and says hes just trying to have some fun.

from then on gepard and sampo's 'chases' tend to... dissolve. sometimes gepard just sits down and takes a moment to forget about being the captain, to relax. Sampo acts like a skittish, stray cat who's ready to bolt until he eventually relaxes as sits by gepard too.

gepard collects all sampo's notes, all the fragments of his bombs with the hearts painted on metal shells, and keeps them as 'evidence' in his desk.

sampo pushes his luck constantly; as soon as gepard relaxes or gives him any room to get closer, he takes and takes as much as he can get.

gepard catches sampo, entirely on accident, when he's off duty. climbing out of a window or something. and sampo freezes but gepard just says 'hey i'm not working now, i can't arrest you.'

(they both know it's a lie. being out of uniform never stopped gepard before.)

sampo starts just appearing more and more around gepard when he's off duty, showing up walking alongside him like he's been there the whole time, or just 'passing by' when gep is in the florist's shop.

gepard leaves his window open. sampo takes the invitation and crawls in and strange hours when gepard cant sleep. he just sits on the couch or a chair or stands there like he is a foreign intruder. gepard just nods and makes him some tea.

when it would hit gepard, that he's in love with sampo and has been for a while, he'd just blurt it out. 'huh. i think ive fallen in love with you'. and sampo would erupt into flames and kiss him so hard his lips bruise

[jane-lynndrake-t]

I'd like to ask about your brother.

<3

Jamie is my half-brother. He loved creepy crawlies and flying things.

Mom would lock me alone in a room with him to 'bond'.

And I used to really dislike him because he ignored me for weeks. After about a month, I was so frustrated that I threw his book and deliberately got him in trouble.

As payback, he would talk my ear off about owls and insects every time he saw me.

Looking back, I was lucky my brother was, well, Jamie.

It's never a good idea to lock your 8 year old daughter inside a room alone with a 15 year old boy.

[troubled-bog-witch]

(Guy who is about to announce their unpopular opinion voice) Now hear me out hear me out. Not to make the malevolent canon MORE bleak but hear me out. The Oscar business from s4 was still fresh when John tried to erase Arthur's memories (the BLATANT disrespect sgjhfshd). And then, ok, John was put in a really emotional situation where he had to save Arthur's life and do a lot of introspection and admit his love. Which he then tells Arthur. I just think it would have been realllll spicy n compelling if, upon this confession, Arthur was too hurt to reciprocate. Like, he did love John and he probably still loves John, but he doesn't forgive or trust John and it makes the timing all wrong and sad and awkward for both of them. And it's a solid narrative way of illustrating how serious recent betrayals were without detracting from how genuine John's love for Arthur is. Instead of moving right along like we seem to be. Hello. Hello can anyone hear me. Is anyone thinking about those. Please

[witchofthewild]

My watcher girl for pillars of eternity 💕

[mikeyfuckinway]

as someone who has had weird undefined and fluid relationships with my best friends, dan and phil is something that can be so personal

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Lord of the Empty Isles

sci-fi/fantasy

set on a supposedly utopian planet recovering from a climate crisis, where bonds between people are able to be seen and manipulated (by some people)

follows a young man whose brother was cursed and killed by an infamous outlaw 5 years ago, and he’s finally able to curse him back - but it rebounds, as he’s somehow fatebound to the outlaw

to find a cure and save them both they have to team up, and he quickly finds out that the resources the outlaw is stealing go to the thousands of people neglected on prison planets, and he has to go against what he thought was right to help them

no romance, aroace MC, focus on platonic relationships

arc from netgalley, out june 6

[what-have-i-unleashed]

don't know what it says about me but i want to have the worst dates with murder and fumble him every time with my failure swag 😔

[micamicster]

My favorite thing in the untamed is how at their core all of the relationship conflicts are about fighting for the right to care about each other

[zentriii]

chasing unwritten lines by zentriii

beta'd by @slutawara / gaia

chapter 1/5 | T | 4,761 words

Bokuto hasn't been on a date in half a decade, Hinata decides to do something about this. Inunaki, Atsumu, and Sakusa all get dragged into the chaos. // a silly msby fic told through multiple outsider povs