#this issue…did not age gracefully

[dilf-docs]

Where Art Thou, Why Not Uponeth Me?

renaldo x younger fem!reader

summary: he wasn't even your uncle anymore, having divorced your aunt about five years ago. but of course here he was, the life of the party, crashing your sister's wedding. (alternatively: your fun bachelor uncle crashes your sister's wedding and then your pussy in the bathroom while everyone else is drunk or dancing, based on my own tweet)

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (50/25), pwp, p. in v., public sex, oral (m. receiving), rough sex, doggy style, bit of degradation + pain + humiliation kink (this combo fr), exhibition kink, forced creampie, no mommy kink but he calls her mami (as in a petname), nasty!renaldo (he's a chavorruco latin lover asshole with serious commitment and flirting issues), sprinkles of angst ig?

word count: 5,130 words

side note: the snl series is back because i definetely work harder than the devil. yes, don't underestimate a horny touch starved virgin writer who hyperfixiates for a living. this filthy public sex (another episode of the writer's poorly disguised fetish) is inspired by pedro!renaldo in the newest domingo sketch (God, i love marcello my short king) because the crash out i had after it ended (sabrina, bad bunny, andy samberg and pedro all in a room singing espresso they did it for me i fear) and snl 50 in overall was kinda cathartic; i hadn't wrote like this since my sebstan days (wdyk about dilf-docs lore huh). here's some renaldo latin lover dick for you my lovely new citizens BECAUSE WE HIT A 1K POPULATION

You take a sip from the bubbly alcohol, the sweet taste in your lips as you savor your surroundings: music blasting through the speakers, the sound of glasses and cutlery, mellow conversations and the loud buzzing behavior your family is known for; everyone is here.

You lean to your left.

"Tía Elena is a drink away from blacking out" shouting over the music.

"Te apuesto cinco dólares a que se cae en la pista" (i bet you five dollars she falls in the dance floor)

You smile back mischievously at your brother. "Deal"

Your cousin Marcello pops up from behind, hovering like a fly over the food. Was it a thing in your family to be this fucking nosy all the time?

"What are y'all doing?"

Your other cousin Benito joins the circle, speaking over the song:

"They betting Tía Elena will fall again" he laughs, "como en la última reunión" (like in the last meeting)

"Hey! Esa es mi mamá" Marcello protests. (that's my mom)

"Jesus, Beni" you hit his shoulder playfully, "what a snitch"

"There's nothing else going on, is it?" your brother argues back in defense. "Can't blame us for trying to be entertained y tu mamá por no dejar la botella" (and your mom for not putting the bottle down)

"If you all went dancing, like me, you'd had fun" he huffs, crossing his arms.

Benito laughs, "you call that dancing?"

Marcello rolls his eyes, "I'm gonna go somewhere where they appreciate me and the art of moving your body with rhythm"

"Ain't no one stopping you!" your brother quips.

You laugh at the men's antics, looking at the dancefloor. Your eyes catch your sister, moving gracefully in her white dress, that twirls with the music. She's all smiles, and has never looked this pretty before, the happiness bouncing off her like the floral perfume she's wearing, akin to the smell of the flower arrangements hanging on the walls. It may be the day or that you'd always been a romantic, but today you had almost ruined your makeup at every chance: crying over her entrance, over the vows, over the speeches, the first dance... God, you love weddings as much as you love your sister.

"You men are insufferable" you take a long sip, "I need more female energy here but all I see is you" to prove so, your eyes dart across the room, full of drunk tíos laughing loudly while shoving alcohol down their throats, all the women on the dancefloor, where you should be. But you haven't, not since #he stopped showing around to drag you by force.

Benito snickers.

"Si tía Ana hubiera venido, tal vez" (if aunt ana had come, maybe)

You click your tongue, expression awkward. She had stopped coming to the meetings all together, like she had become suddenly allergic to her family.

"Ay, Beni" you sigh. "You know she hasn't been the same since..."

In some ways, you hadn't either.

"Yeah" he agrees.

"Oh, I would've gone mad too, you know" your brothers raises his glass. "After-"

"Well, but she's the one missing out!" Marcello adds with a loud cackle, interrupting him.

Benito looks behind him, smirking "Weren't you gonna leave?"

You all laugh at your younger cousin. "Ustedes ya no tienen respeto por nadie" (you guys don't respect anyone)

"You're supposed to respect your elders" you rob a champagne flute from a waiter passing by, the glass meeting your lips. "Not annoying cousins"

You look at both your brother and Beni, waiting for them to jump on the teasing, but they're both looking at the entrance of the venue. If their jaw is tight, brows furrowed and eyes wide open, it musn't been good.

"Pero, ¿tú me estás jodiendo?" (are you fucking kidding me?)

You follow your cousin Benito's gaze after his little comment, and the tranquil champagne now bubbles in your throat up violently, making you cough.

"What is happening?" Marcello jumps, placing himself in the middle of you all. He looks frantically around, until he meets the object of your attention, specifically, person. "Is that-?"

"Yes" you find your voice after a cough, "its uncle Ren"

In all his glory. Well, more like ex-uncle. But God, didn't he look good? Of course, that's the important part and not finding out the reason why the hell he's showing up to your sister's wedding when he's not legally part of your family anymore, not since about five years ago, when he divorced your aunt Ana. You've only heard of him as of late, your tías whispering past Christmas about how they'd seen Ren at the beach, whistling at younger ladies in clad bikins with his old gang of bachelors he used to run with before settling in. How fitting.

Talking about divorce... It did him good. Not to take digs at your aunt, but as he walks in with that confident strut of his, gold chain on that broad chest of him, glowing under the lights, hair neatly trimmed and gelled back, some more greys on his hair than you remembered, and that mustache and fucking goatee... He flashes everyone a charming smile with his full pearly whites and dimple on display, going to hug your sister who looks as confused and surprised as you do. But uncle Ren always gave the best hugs, so she accepts when he wraps her up in his embrace that smells like sandalwood, leather and cigs, strong arms caging her smaller frame. The biceps flex, and you wonder if he has started hitting the gym, despite his age.

You squirm in your seat, finishing the flute in a long sip that drags like a cigarrette.

"Jesus Christ" your brother shakes his head. "Dude's not got an ounce of shame on that body"

More like that sturdy body.

"Well, that's uncle Renaldo to you" Beni adds with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Ex-uncle" you feel the need to clarify for no reason.

"No puedo creer que se atreva a aparecer después de como terminó todo con la tía Ana" Marcello coaxes. (can't believe he has the nerve to show up after how things ended with aunt ana)

"Divorcing her?" you ask with a barely contained snicker. The men all look at you and sigh.

Alright, your preference to your uncle had never gone completely unnoticed, especially in a family as attentive as yours. But it was impossible not to fall under (ex)uncle Ren's spell: you suppose that is the reason it took your aunt so long to divorce him, despite their broken marriage that had been going on for years. Because while he could be the funniest and most easy-going person in the room, he too was a serial flirter who didn't stop a sleazy smile bearing all his whites or unwarrented compliment coming out of his plump lips. He had never cheated on her, but it was hard to believe he hadn't. Renaldo knew he was hot, and that made him dangerous.

No wonder your aunt clinged so hard to their sinking ship. You still remember how proud she was when he brought him in first. Call him uncle Ren, she had insisted. After that, he started showing up around more, and then there was a ring on her finger she couldn't stop talking about. They were married for ten years, separated for six and divorced since five. Didn't have any kids, despite how much your aunt wanted them. Never had time, probably wasting it crying about his late homecomings and missed calls, mind busy in heart-breaking thoughts and a frail homelife, bound to be torn apart by his bachelor mindset that had been attractive first; how she'd fallen for the man who lighted up your barbacues and taught you how to ride your bike, even kicking an ex-boyfriend's ass once. He couldn't handle all this, he whispered on that seductive voice of his, and it was so hard to not stare and drool like a fucking dog, face burning up. Maybe it started then, when you were twenty, and you hadn't looked back ever since.

"Ah, mis sobrinos!" you all look up, and you know that deep rich sultry voice all too well. (my nephews!)

Speaking of the devil, he's coming to your table, all smiles like all the women who took Ana's side hadn't stopped dancing to glare at him. He gives a loud shout to the men across the room, and they all salute back, despite his reputation, because some of them still saw him at their bar runs, too funny and charming to pass up on his company. Renaldo is wearing something a bit too casual for the occasion, but hot damn, he looks too good.

"Ya no somos tus sobrinos, Ren" Beni corrects, but Renaldo quickly dismisses the younger man. (we're no longer your nephews)

"Familia siempre es familia" he counters. He hugs everyone of you, and when it's your turn, your body can't help but stiffen at first, then relax on arms that do indeed feel stronger. Ren still smells the same. (family is forever)

"You've been hitting the gym, uncle Ren" you giggle, champagne speaking up for you. "Sorry, just Renaldo"

He smirks while licking his lips, like he's savoring the sound of his name only on your voice. "You were always an observer, weren't you, doll?" he oggles you up and down, while your brother scoffs at your heating cheeks. "You look just about fine yourself too"

Those tight black pants, remembering legs you had seen before in shorts, hairy and strong, but what catches you the most is the big silhoutte between them, still noticeable under the strobbing lights. You gulp, and when you look up to him again, his gaze is dark even when he's smirking. You think he's noticed.

"What are you doing here?" your brother cuts the moment, and you have to roll your eyes.

"Coming to my sobrina's wedding, of course" he responds easily, like his answer is supposed to make sense.

"She isn't your nephew anymore, Ren" Benito stands up, his height clashing with his. "So why don't you leave, old man, huh? You ain't welcome anymore"

He opens his mouth, but Beni cuts him.

"And don't give me that familia bullshit. If you cared, you'd have saved your marriage"

Renaldo's jaw tightens as you three watch the tense exchange.

"Yo amaba a tú tía" he defends himself. "All this family" (i loved your aunt)

"Well" your brother is the next to stand up, "you should've showed it when it mattered"

You wish for times to be simpler: when he'd be in the middle of the dance floor, moving while singing along outloud until everyone would be forced to join him, allured by his larger than life character and playful disposition, accompanied by his attractive features. Renaldo was a force of nature that not even you were spared from: his thunderous presence turned your life upside down from the moment you became a woman and your silly crush roamed into deep uncharted territories, where your heart beat too loud and your gaze lingered on the forbidden, taking every wink and compliment uttered by that grave voice of his, savoring all the interactions you could yet it was never enough.

"You should leave" Marcello backs them up, making Renaldo tsk.

"What about you, doll? Want Ren to leave?" you react, body tense when you realize he's talking to you, your brother and cousins waiting for your answer. "We ain't even danced yet, remember? Like before"

"Time's up" a new figure emerges. Papá Francisco, Ana's father and your great uncle. "You should've thought about that before, amigo" friend, spoken in a mocking tone.

"Alright, pops" he chuckles, but it's humorless, while he raises his arms in mock surrender. "I just wanted to see my beautiful girls all grown up on Natalia's special day"

"Just the girls?" a voice scoffs behind. Awesome, now your great aunt is here. "Leave. You have now seen them"

Why can't anyone just mind their own business?

(You probably weren't being fair, but Jesus, couldn't you enjoy a bit of time with a man you crushed on and hadn't seen in five years?)

"Hola, Imelda. Looking nice" and he takes her hand and kisses it. Oh, how you wish to be her, who removes her palm with a flustered face.

"What's going on?"

Now your sister has come to where a small crowd has formed, a frown on her beautiful face. Her husband trails behind.

"Nada, Nati. Tu vuelve a la pista y disfruta tu boda" Beni dismisses. (nothing, nati. go back to the dancing floor and enjoy your wedding)

"Well, you've made it my bussiness by having this conversation on my wedding, as you say" she sighs tiredly, running a hand through her hair. "Why don't you just leave him alone and we all go back to our thing, yeah?"

"No" Renaldo, who had been quiet, speaks up. "I know where I'm not welcomed" that earns a mocking Do you? from your brother and Beni scoffs. "I'll leave now" then turns around one last time, boots marking their steps with a clicking sound that echoes off the walls, despite the music still playing. "Have a nice life, Nati. Wish you the best"

You watch his back getting farther and farther away, getting lost in the sea of bodies on the dance floor. Your heart plummets and you can't he's gone again from your life, just like that.

"Show's over, gente. Go back to the party" Papá Francisco speaks in a harsh tone, filled with finality.

You try, you do, even going to the dance floor with the men, dancing around with a friend of Nati's husband who asks for your Instagram handle when the song ends, but your mind is elsewhere.

"Excuse me" you tell him with a sweet smile, and he makes you swear you'll give him your username when you're back.

Taking advantage on everyone's bliss, you quietly sneak away from the dance floor, walking towards the gardens.

One thing you'll always admire of your sister, is her attention to detail. She had chosen this particular venue for it's ample gardens, choosing for a reception on the open due to the favoring weather conditions on summer.

The dress clings to your body as the windy breezes by, and you hug your body, cursing your heels that have now started to hurt. You spot the rose bushes your sister had trimmed, looking as beautiful as the first day you saw them on the rehearsal.

"You should've stayed inside"

You jump then relax when you see him, cigarrette dangling from his mouth.

"Here" you take out a lighter from your purse. His face comes closer, hot breath on your face until the click casts a small flame that flickers light over his ageing features. He's aged fine like wine, and by the smirk he gives you before taking a drag, Renaldo's aware of it, maybe about the effect he has on you.

"Thank you, sweetheart" his big hand finds its way to the bush, rustling some leaves. In a harsh tug, he cuts a rose, and you laugh in surprise. "Here"

You smile. "I don't think you're supposed to cut these"

"But it's beautiful, isn't it?" his hands brush yours when you take the gift. "As beautiful as the lady"

A pool of heat forms in your stomach. He's complimented you before, sure, but never has the air felt this charged before, a lurking dangerous anticipation condensed on his smoke trails and your shaky breaths.

"I'm sorry you had to leave"

Renaldo is still close to you. You get a whiff of his cologne, mixed with the cigarette; it's intoxicating. Your eyes dart to the chain, and you wonder how would it look-

"They made me leave" he corrects with a chuckle, a deep rumble coming from his chest.

"Right" you laugh, feeling nervous all of the sudden. "My bad, Ren"

"You didn't want me to leave, did you, doll?" the new wave of petnames makes your legs weak. "Also..." he makes a brief pause, the cigarette now dropped and stomped against the grass. "I like the way that sounds"

Before you realize, his fingers are ghosting over your lip, brushing until some of the matte shade coats his calloused thumb.

His fingers then move to your chin, applying a light pressure to your skin, but enough to bruise.

"Say it again"

"W-what?" you ask, barely a breath.

"Say it, y/n" his face is just inches away from yours. You have to bite your lip to hide out a whine from the sound of your name on his voice. "I know you want to"

"R-Ren" you choke out, fluttering eyelids at the way the pressure doesn't falter.

"Now be a good girl and spell my full name like it's the only thing you know"

The following whimper you can't contain it; the praise gets to you.

"Renaldo"

His brown eyes adquire a dark shade that even in the low moonlight, you notice.

"So pliant, doll. For me?"

You nod dumbly, completely fucked out of your mind, warning sirens barely a buzz in the back of your head. Be it the alcohol, or the lack of control you had when it came to him, its impossible to resist the want to fall.

A beat. "Might reward you for that"

He crashes his mouth into yours, full force, in a heated, hungry and messy kiss. He sucks your lips so hard they for sure will bruise, an action very fitting with his strong and absorbing character. His tongue is wet and sloppy, giving you no space to breathe as you grant him access, wrapping your hands around his midsection, pulling him closer.

Renaldo chuckles, letting you gasp for air. "So needy, aren't you? Always were like this. So demanding; wanna have things your way"

"I see you know me well, don't you?" you bat your eyelashes.

"It's impossible to ignore you, you goddamn tease" your fingers trace through his broad back, tanned skin soft that your nails feel the need to dig. You once eavesdropped on your aunt gushing to your tías about how he loved nails-- long fresh manicured nails; red for the win. "Fucking temptress"

Renaldo groans into your mouth. "Think I wouldn't notice how you looked at me with this hungry eyes, huh?" he bites your lips so hard you taste blood. "Might as well just said it"

He forces his tongue inside of you again, making your body squirm as he presses his weight over you, back pinned to the bushes, the leaves tickling your skin. Ren now swallows a whine of yours, dick throbbing hard at your needy sounds.

He then detaches his mouth from yours, a silver string of saliva connecting you two.

"Still can't fucking say it"

But he insists you're the tease.

You cock an eyebrow. "Never was good with words. How about this?"

Renaldo holds your gaze as you descend, until your knees hit the grass. Your fingers toy with his pants until you pull them down, following with his underwear.

"Oh, doll. Consider me interested" as if his cock wasn't leaking with precum.

Your lips begin to wrap around the tip of his cock, then swallow him whole, eager and so fucking cock starved. Soon, you pick up a rapid pace, your tongue doing God knows what but his jaw is tense from keeping the sounds from coming out, but aren't you testing his limits? Slurping on his damn cock like you've been deprived of it all your life. In a way, you have, and you don't waste time in not sucking the living soul out of him.

Your eyes look up, chest warm and pussy wet at the pleasure etched across his face, and he looks at you, at your drooly mess for sucking his dick.

He tugs your hair harshly, making you gag.

"I wanna see you" he gathers your hair up into a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of your face. "Keep going-"

A grunt escapes his lips, cutting himself off. You clasp your thighs together looking for some pressure to ease yourself a little, your mouth busy still gagging, sank down until you feel his balls. The tip of his cock is buried in your throat, lodged so fucking deliciously in the back. You let it out, and Renaldo groans.

"The fuck you do that for?" comes out his complain, voice strained.

"I needed my mouth to speak" you clean some drool on your face. "Need you to do something for me" he clears his throat as letting you speak. "I want you to fuck my mouth"

"Carajo, muñeca" you place a little kiss on his inner thigh. "You're so fucking dirty, who would've thought?" (fuck, doll)

Your chest rises and falls, lips parted while a string of saliva coats them.

"Alright, wanna see if you're just talk, you cock hungry whore" Ren smirks devilishly. "I'm gonna ruin the fuck out of you"

He gathers you by your hair and shoves you back down, hips bucking with a movement so brash you choke. Your pretty eyes water and your fake eyelashes get wet. Renaldo continues to buck his hips up and force you down, choking and spit sounds making his dick hard as he throws his head back with half-lidded eyes.

His big cock stuffing your throat feels like a dream and he knows you're enjoying it.

A little content smile graces his lips, and he can feel his abdomen tightening. He bucks his hips up faster, forcing your head down deeper, panting as you gag on his cock, and when his grip on your hair falters and his body shakes, you know he's close.

"Little slut" he teases with a hoarse voice, "do you want to eat my cum that badly?"

Your answer comes in the form of sucking him off to drive him to the edge, refusing to pull out.

"Entonces hártatelo, puta" (then gorge on it, slut)

He fills your throat up with his cum, sputtering and swallowing down as much as you can while he holds you in place. You gasp for air when he finally lets you go, a mix of cum and drool running down your chin.

"A fucking expert, doll. Five stars" his finger brushes over your skin. "Look at this mess 'cause you were too fucking hungry. Lick it"

Your chest heaves, but you get close to the fingers, sucking on them. It tastes like him and you, the sensation making both your cunt and chest warm. You don't hold yourself back and look at him all the time, the sucking sound as obscene as the latest.

Suddenly, in the quiet of the night, you can't think of anything else.

But then leaves rustle, yet none of you have moved.

"Y/n?"

Shit, It's Beni. You then recognize Marcello and your brother, trailing behind.

"Looks like we gotta go" he laughs, amused. You can only feel your face burn. "Ah, no te preocupes, muñeca. I know a place. Follow me" (don't worry, doll)

Renaldo has taken you to a fucking bathroom, just meters away from the venue. But the music is loud, and no one notices the two people hurriedly getting inside, like dumb horny teenagers.

"Jesus" he pants, and you click the door. He reaches for your face, carressing your warm skin before ghosting over your lips. "Now, where were we?"

The kiss.

Again, it's rushed, rough and impatient, like he too had been waiting a lifetime to taste you.

Renaldo pushes you against the bathroom's wall, making you moan when his larger frame cages yours. You're drowning of him: his smell, his sweat that starts to pool, the heat radiating off his body, the view you have of his veins and tense muscles, that fuckass chain... It's all now yours.

He gropes your body, testing forbidden waters until now. Then, his hand leaves your ass and reaches for your exposed inner thigh. His greedy fingers wander into the upper cut of your dress without any warning and head for your clit. The older man hisses, feeling your wet patch, rubbing teasingly through the thin material of your laced panties you now feel lucky to have chosen, arousing you even more. You feel them damp and sticky while tilting your head back in pleasure and he takes the chance to paint bruises all over your neck and collarbone. 

"Renaldo" you moan his name as his tongue licks the exposed skin of your collarbone, trailing dangerously close to the valley of your tits, pushed up thanks to the dress. He bites down on the crook of your neck, skin inviting.

"Glitter, baby?" he chuckles at how it seems to shimmer. Your friend Sabrina had convinced you to do it, even borrowing you hers; it smelled like vainilla.

"What's this, huh? You youngsters never fail to amaze me" with a sleazy smile that makes your pussy clench, more when he open his mouth to show you his sparkling tongue.

"Oh? We're just getting started" you pant as his fingers slide through the seam of your panties, gracing your entrance. "I'm full of surprises"

"Little minx, I like that sassy mouth of yours" you roll your hip to reach out for his teasing fingers, "we're about to find out"

You repeat the motion, cunt aching for his touch, but end up gracing his pulsating strained bulge with your upper belly in the process. He stops, the black pants looking uncomfortable-- fighting to be freed.

"Fuck, mami. Need'a be inside you" you nod too eagerly, lips parted open. His hand graces your ass. "Now turn around"

You obey without thinking twice, and he pushes your face down on the counter with a harsh demanor.

"You won't move, right?" you hum, despite his hand placing on your neck and the other grabs your waist hashly, fingers digging in the skin to keep you still. You whimper at the light pain, "Good girl"

He pulls down your panties until they fall down to the floor, then hikes your dress up, exposing your ass.

"Nice, mami" he whistles, "I like what I see"

To prove so, he uses his hands to part your legs and spread them open, his other hand undoing his pants for the second time during that night.

"Tell me how much you want this" but he's already pushing the head of his cock into your folds. His tip brushes your soaking clit, and it sends a delicious but painful shiver that coarses through your body.

"Badly" you cry out.

"Tus deseos son órdenes, muñeca" he purrs. "Despite it all, I'm a gentleman" (your wish is my command, doll)

In one swift move, he pushes his length into your slick folds. "So wet, doll. 'S it for me?" you nod and he laughs, "gonna reward you for that"

He pulls his cock out and then slams it all inside, burying himself to the hilt.

You jerk under his hold at the sudden move, feeling all his girth in your walls, trying to take him. A breathy moan falls from your lips.

"Shh, don't move" he leans down to whisper in your ear, "music is loud but it ain't gonna do miracles to cover up those slut sounds out of you"

He doesn't ask for permission, only increasing the pressure of your face against the counter, the cold burning against your cheek, and begins to move inside of you, soon picking up an erratic pace, his pelvic area slamming into your ass. Fuck, your eyes sting from the brutal force of each thrust as he forces into you, movements sloppy, and the obscene sound of skin clapping against skin feeling the now feeling even smaller bathroom, that is starting to get hotter and more humid. You can't really see the mirror, but can imagine it fogging up.

"Tell me how it feels" Renaldo pants, his grip on your waist increasing in pressure. "Wanna hear you say how much you love my cock, little puta" (whore)

"S-so goo-good" you sputter out.

"'S that why you had to suck me off in the garden?" he chuckles darkly. "Couldn't even fucking wait, didn't care to be caught like a fucking whore by tus primos y hermano. No, you wanted Renaldo's cock so fucking badly you got on your knees as soon as he came back into your life" his words should make you feel embarrassed, but you moan at the string of humiliating and lewd words. "Bet you thought about it since forever, heh? You opportunist cocksleeve. That you touched yourself to this even when I was with Ana"

"C-couldn't help it, Ren. Wanted you so so bad" you cry. "Always have"

"Fucking filthy little shit" he whistles, "you're no good girl. You're a real bad girl"

You whine, turning into a moaning mess, blabbering nonsense.

"I-I need to-"

"Go on, tell Renaldo what you need"

"Need to c-cum" you gasp, walls clenching around his cock, your eyes battling to remain open.

He leans down, bitting your earlobe. Then, he kisses it, his smokey scent carresing your hot skin.

"Go on, baby. Wanna see you take all of my seed until it drips from your legs" he grunts, his thrusts sloppy and messy like his kisses. "I need'a see you walkin' back inside so everyone knows what you did, you filthy slut. For everyone to see what's mine"

You see stars, pussy gushing over his dick. His thrusts loose rhythm, and you know he's out for blood.

"W-wait!" you feel the overestimulation as his dick twitches inside you.

"You said you'd behave" he pants, his hold still firm. "So don't be such a fucking bitch and let me cum too, mami. You aren't cruel, are you?"

"N-no"

"Then you'll let me do this" his cock spasms, "and this"

His seed spurts inside of you, thick whiteness dripping down your ass and thigh as your pussy milks it. Some spills on the floor, some drops on your dress and some on his pants, black pants, making him hiss.

"Fuck" he curses, while pulling out. "See that?"

"Oh, I see" you chuckle dryly. "But you forget only one of us is going back to the wedding"

He chuckles, taking in the sight of you: dress ruined, hair damp, run makeup and cum-stained legs. Despite it all, you're still so pretty, and he can't believe a girl he used to call sobrina five years ago has now taken his dick like a fucking champ. Renaldo tugs some loose strands behind your ear, sleazy smiling at you.

"I have a solution" his finger traces your arm, taunting.

You want to stretch your time with him. God knows when you'll see him again.

"Yeah?"

"No awkward questions, no explanations, and more of this" he signals his dick; it's still pulsating, dear Lord. How old was this guy again?

You shouldn't bear any hopes or hop on his truck that probably reeks of ashes and rum. But you never had any sense when it came to Renaldo, and now that you've tasted him, nothing will ever be the same.

"I'm all ears"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas

[nightingale-prompts]

Alfred's Apprentice- DCxDP prompt

Alfred isn't immortal and he can admit he's not getting any younger. It also wouldn't hurt to have someone else to take on the workload since the family isn't going to get smaller.

Instead of finding help, help found him.

"Call me Nightingale. Danny Nightingale." The young man said presenting a black card with perfect white ink calligraphy.

Danny was about Tim's age. He had already graduated early according to records. His record was perfect in all respects. Smart. An intellect comparable to geniuses in respects to science which had more uses in the households then you'd expect. He was very precise when it came to cleaning. Every surface needed to be cleaned regardless of how much use they see. In fact Danny would carry a blacklight and wipe anything with fingerprints. His almost supernatural strength allowed him to move furniture for easier cleaning.

Alfred had suspicions that Danny had a history in crime scene cleaning. He chose not to say anything.

The kid was a damn good cook as well. Though his tea isn't up to Alfred's standards. At least heist his aim is good.

Bruce at least didn't adopt this one and leave Alfred to take care of him.

"Nightingale, did you clean the ceiling?" Alfred asked.

"Yes, sir. Please leave any hard to reach places to me. The chandelier is especially finicky to polish and you have better things to tend to." He said bowing at the waist.

Bruce was still uncomfortable asking Danny for anything and let Alfred instruct him on what he should do. He has suspicions that Danny was being trained to tend to Damian should something happen to him. Alfred would come up with a contingency like that.

The others took to Danny as best as they could. Most treated him like a brother with the exception of Tim and Damian. Tim couldn't really see past them being the same age but Danny was able to understand his babble about theories and help him. Thought Danny was also to wait out Tim's insomnia easily and take him to bed.

Damian had no issue seeing Danny as a servant which was exactly what he wanted. Dick would criticize him about being rude but Danny would assure him that Damian was not being rude, he was just giving Danny a job to do.

It was during an outing with Damian that Danny was put to the test. They were just visiting an art supply store. Danny carried Damian's bags to the car and put them away in the trunk. As he opened the door to let Damian in a group of kidnappers tried to steal the young master.

It was likely a crime of opportunity as they saw a rich boy and his butler out and about.

As the group tried to drive off with Damian in tow, all the tires on their van blew out as Danny had already thrown down caltrops under the ties.

Gracefully and with the dignity expected of a bulter he pried the rough hands off of Damian, breaking every finger as he went.

"Please refrain from such brutish actions. I'd usually be unwilling to let this go but you must be very desperate to commit a crime so blatantly as to steal a child. I'm in a rush to get the young master home for dinner. So remain here, the police will be here in a few moments."

With that Danny escorted Damian into the car and drove them home.

[un-lawliet]

I recently found your blog and <3

I’ve been having some health issues lately and have been struggling so I decided to leave a request! Obviously don’t feel pressured to write! If the prompt doesn’t stick feel free to ignore!

High school Satoru X female reader who had a crush on him in for ages but she’s so shy and Gojos so popular so they don’t really interact. BUT she decides to bake him sweets and leave them on his desk and somehow he finds out it was her and asks her on a date.

CHEESY I KNOW >~< I feel like we don’t have enough fics of reader being head over heels in love with Gojo and it’s a must!

ANYWAY- again this is a ramble feel free to ignore MWAH

hi anon !!! id absolutely LOVE to write this ITS NO PRESSURE AT ALL :) thank you so so so much for the request- i hope you’re ok ! and i’m always here incase u need to talk <3

“Pretty.”

— in which Gojo has a secret admirer.

“Did you hear? Satoru Gojo has a secret admirer.”

“Oh Yea? Who?”

“Dunno, ‘pparently he’s going mad tryna find ‘em though.”

…

Your face was definitely burning, hands sweating and jaw clenched as you listen to the chatter of your classmates. Their voices morphing into the background of your busy mind, blending seamlessly into the slight disarray of (as you would describe it) your dire situation.

Blinking, you raise your hand to scratch the base of your neck, trying to pull yourself together less you reveal your crimes of admiration out-loud to classroom full of people who barely knew of your name.

You could see him, from where you sat, hunched over in your seat at the back of the classroom, your eyes squinted ever so slightly as the unforgiving sun spread her light through the window, gracefully imposing on your face falling directly into your peering eyes.

Leaning against the smudged glass of the vending machine, he had his head tilted back, laughing boisterously at a joke from his friend (the one who was always trying to hide the smoke from her lit cigarette)

In one hand you could see a can of soda you knew was far too sweet for anyone but himself, and in the other, you saw the small tin, decorated with the white and yellow details of pretty flowers and bee’s. Lid concealing the sweets in which you had baked just a day prior, sweets that you had hoped would act as a silent confession of your- oh you’re blushing again.

Your feelings for Satoru Gojo were undeniable, however unspoken. And you doubt you would ever get to a point where you would voice them out-loud to anyone let alone Gojo himself.

But you are unfortunately, still human, and humans have a tendency to want to be acknowledged, and after years of harbouring unheard feelings for someone, the bitter grasp of your own human desire overpowered your confident resolve of silence.

And so, you left a tiny box of chocolates with a tiny pretty note tucked in the back, with a silently cheeky “Enjoy” written in pink pen.

Glancing over to the vending machine once more, you watched as Satoru Gojo waved a hand in-front of his face, pouting as he tried pathetically to dodge the smoke blown at him by his friend, who grinned cheekily in response, flicking the now finished bunt towards the ground and stepping on it, moving her foot side to side to kill the remains of the flame.

You smile.

You had met Gojo two years ago, but had known of him far longer.

In the words of yourself (and probably everyone else who knew him) he was the epitome of perfection. Good in class, the best in any sport he took up and God he was beautiful.

Everyone knew him, the exact opposite to you.

You who quietly stumbles around her own feet, and apologises for even the slightest thing, despite it mostly never being your fault.

You were incomprehensibly shy, and so incredibly frustrated with your own reticence.

And yet two years ago, Satoru Gojo had asked you for a pen, you for a pen.

He had leaned back in his chair, during your math class, turned his head and nudged you instead of everyone else around him.

A pretty grin on his face as he sheepishly explained that he forgot to bring his own, and you had stammered and nodded handing him a pen as you gently said “You can keep it for the rest of the day, I don’t mind.”

“Huh? You serious?” He had replied, his head cocking slightly eyes crinkling under his sun glasses.

“Yea? I mean uh- yes!” Looking away from his gaze shyly. “It’s just a pen you know? I have plenty.”

He laughed, and you couldn’t help but look right back at him, your heart basically stopping as he winked, right at you.

“Thanks pretty.”

And your sure you had died, right then and there. Watching the back of his head as he turned back around, uncapping your pen as he moved.

Since then, Gojo had always smiled at you when he saw you walking past, and always without fail, you would sheepishly smile back, the familiar feeling of butterflies tickling the confines of your stomach every damn time.

The shrill sound of the bell rang throughout the classroom, and you stand up, taking your books with you with a sigh.

The clatters of chairs and bags zipping filtered through your thoughts and pulled you out of your self induced daydreaming stupor, calling you to join the rest of your classmates in exiting the confines of your classroom.

You glance back out the window once more before you move towards the door, and instantly your eyebrows lifted and you almost loose grasp of your balance as Gojo Satoru stares right back at you.

Simultaneously he smiles, lifting a hand as if greeting you and you scramble away from the window, head down, entirely embarrassed.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Could you be anymore useless in your “acting cool” facade.

Ever since you had placed your sweets on Satoru Gojo’s desk you had been a nervous wreck, terrified that at any second your feelings would be exposed and the entire school would point and laugh at your sweaty, flushed face.

Sniffing, you rub your eyes with the heel of your hands, trailing behind your peers through the halls, on their way home.

The lockers were always so crowded at the end of the day and you hated it.

You had no group to hide you from the conversations involving Gojo and his “secret admirer” have to hear every single in and pretend not to care.

“It’s creepy don’t you think? I mean why not just tell him you like him?”

“Maybe they’re nervous?”

“Of course they are? It’s Satoru Gojo for Christ’s sake, man’s beautiful.”

You close your locker, clutching the books and papers you need for your later homework, your bag left abandoned on the floor beside you.

Turning to reach for your bag, you feel another student collide into you. Your books crash to the ground, and you stare mortified as pages fly out, scattering everywhere.

The student doesn’t stop, just calls out that he’s sorry and that he’s late for a bus, you sigh.

You have to drop out, you think, there’s no recovering from this.

You bend down, apologising quietly to those around you who just glanced at you and continued on their way, and start to gather all your papers and books, heat burning your face.

“You ok?” You heard him just before you saw him, his teasing voice making your hands shake.

Satoru Gojo stood, a smile on his face as he leaned down to get closer to you, your eyes widen and you lean back on your knees.

“Um, yea-Yes everything’s good here..just dropped my stuff..” You trail off and end your broken speech with a fake, ugly laugh, internally you die as he nods and bends down to help.

“No, no you really don’t have to do that, I can manage!” You exclaim, hands moving rapidly in-front of you and he just laughs.

“I don’t mind helping ya, ‘kay?” He’s picking up random papers, no longer looking at you, his eyes glossing over your hand writing- a cheeky grin that you do not see flickers across his face.

You’re in a trance, watching as Gojo helps you, jumping when he glances at you and catches you staring, you busy yourself with stacking your books back into your bag, “Ok well, If you’re sure.”

“M’sure.” He’s handing you a stack of papers, ‘I’m very sure.”

The locker area door closes, signalling the absence of everyone else, you gulp.

“Suprised nobody helped you.” Gojo muses, standing up and raising a hand for you to hold.

You blush as you grasp it, it’s warm, you hope your palms aren’t sweating.

“It’s home time, people wanna get home.” You smile, rising to your feet using his hand has leverage.

Gojo let’s his hold linger before he lets go, you don’t notice, too focused on readjusting your top, fiddling with the fabric.

His sunglasses fall down his nose a little revealing the crystallised blue of his eyes, you swear the light causes them to glow as it catches his pupil.

You smile, eyes corrugating with what you hope looks like appreciation.

“Thanks Gojo.” And he smiles right back at you.

“Hey you know..” Gojo says, turning to ruffle in his bag, your eyes follow his movements, you watch as he pulls out a familiar box.

“Someone left these in my desk this morning, they’re really good..You wanna try?”

Your heart stops in your chest.

Your sure you’re bloods turning blue in your arteries.

Act casual, casual Y/N.

“O-oh that’s nice of them.” You mumble, your voice breaking slightly.

He offers you the box again, shaking it slightly to entice you with your own chocolates.

“Um are you sure? I don’t wanna take something that was made for you..” You look away from his sweet face to stare at the floor, then the ceiling and then back to the floor, there’s a crack right below your shoe.

Someone should really fix that.

“Oh come on! They taste great.” He grins, taking a chocolate and popping it into his mouth, letting out a dramatic “Mmm” as he chews.

“I’m sure they are..” You scratch your arm and then move your hand to the box, reaching in.

Your chocolates do taste nice, but you knew that already. Your taste testers from yesterday remaining as memory to your taste buds.

“Well?” His voice is teasing again, and you smile at him.

“They’re delicious.”

“Mhm.. and you know what else?”

He’s leaning closer to you, you try to stop yourself from leaning away, pushing aside your inane awkwardness, willing yourself to stay where you stand.

“They left a note too, wrote it in a pretty pink pen.”

“Oh?..How, how very uh- nice? of them.” You’re scrambling for sentence structure, staring at his stupidly handsome face.

He takes a page from your arms, and turns it towards himself, then lifts your note from out of his pocket.

Your eyes widen in realisation, and you step back, head turning to the door.

“Oh well, I have to go haha..” You trail off, shoving your stuff in your bag and beginning to walk to the door.

“You made me chocolates?” He asks, and you freeze, your eyes falling back onto him, and the soft face he regards you with.

He had turned the note and your paper around, your handwriting obviously present on both, you chastise yourself for such a huge oversight.

How can you deny it now? Oh God He has you cornered.

Embarrassment bubbles in the back of your throat and you desperately try to explain.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt, hands reaching out in-front of you as if begging him to hear you out.

“Huh-”

You don’t let him finish.

“I didnt mean to come off creepy, it’s just I- Well I- I think you’re really sweet, and you- You smile at me..sometimes, I just wanted you to let you know? And I’m sorry for how-”

“Hey, hey, hey.” He says, his face falling, “You don’t need to apologise for nothing, I’m not mad.”

He walks towards you, “I’m just glad they came from you, that’s all.”

Hope? Is that what you’re feeling right now?

You dare to look at him, only to see him already looking at you.

“I-”

“I ‘smile at you sometimes’?” He nudges, “You made me chocolates cause I smile?”

“..It’s a very nice smile.” You reply, head dropping.

He’s laughing, it’s a sound that makes your heart flicker, and warms your chest, scarce of mocking you feel yourself breathe normally again.

Gojo tilts his head to look at you, his face glowing with joy, as he asks, “I was planning on going to the cafe just down the street..Wanna come?”

You pause.

“What.”

Standing up straight, he hands you the note and your papers, you hold them and stare.

“A date, I’m asking you on a date Y/N.”

Is this real?

Is this happening?

“Are you serious?” Your voice comes out shocked and slightly higher than normal, you don’t understand.

“They’re very nice sweets.” He repeats with a grin “And they come from a very nice girl no? Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“I- I just-”

Gojo, pulls the strap of your bag off your shoulder and slings it over his own, walking towards the door.

“C’mon let’s go pretty.” And he’s looking back at you, waiting “Else you won’t have a bag for tomorrow.”

You jump and follow, eyes still wide and mouth slightly parted.

And Gojo pulls you towards him the second you get close enough to touch, grasping your hand and tugging you with him, a soft smile on his face as he does so.

All is well.

masterlist <3

feel free the leave a request <3

a/n : all is not well, i’m sick as all balls right now- thank you my dear for the request..i know it’s taken me about 58 years to write this but i hope you enjoy it <33 i loved writing it and sorry for the wait. i love you !!!

[thepeaklegendoffirstgen]

Have you ever thought about how since Jake is basically a carbon copy of Gapryong, soooo....

At some point in his life, he might end up looking like this, too.

Now, ageing itself isn't the issue,of course not. But there’s a thing called ageing gracefully, and let’s be honest, Gapryong was the complete opposite of that. The man was classless, used to smoke a lot, and slept around a lot.

Jake, on the other hand, is nothing like that. So I can’t help but feel that he won’t age the same way his dad did. In his case, I truly believe he’ll age with real grace.

[testrella]

you're my religion priest! s. geto x f!reader pt.1→pt.2

synopsis: y/n moved into a small and tight knit town to take care of her elderly grandmother. what happens when she attends a sermon with her grandmother, and finds herself lusting over someone she cannot have.

fandom: jujutsu kaisen ⌗ priest suguru geto x female reader⌗ modern au content warnings: mild cursing, smut, head (giving), religious themes(?), slight degrading at the end, angst(?) public sex, NSFW.

author's note: over 11k words, u guys have fun

“..in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy spirit. amen.”

father geto finishes off the sermon with the routine prayer. he takes the opportunity being on stage to scan the loyal audience. it was the regular, older people he preaches to. the same people who boast about him being so devoted to God at such a young age. how that when they were his age, they were off sinning. he thinks about the constant praises about being a young devoted follower, but it immediately stops when he sees her. 

a young lady, who seemed to be around the same age as him, sitting in the very back with an elderly woman. even though she was dressed as modestly as possible, the black floor length dress immersed your body in all the right places.

when did he allow his immoral thoughts come to mind

 “oh father! you must meet mrs. johnson’s granddaughter- maybe you can convince her to turn to God.” an elder of the church whispered to the priest. she gently pulled him to the side, off of the stage. 

“as you must have heard by now, edith’s grandbaby is out of control. rumor has it that she’s been caught using multiple different contraband, and premarital sex! can you believe edith would allow this to go on for so long?!”

geto mentally sighs, gossiping was always an issue at church. especially since it was located in a very small town, there wasn't much to talk about. when you were new to town, the locals went wild. fabricating very detail of your life, and spouting that nonsense through their teeth.

“with respect dear mary, the scripture speaks strongly against gossip. i’ll talk to the young lady, but please watch yourself. for there is no greater sin than sin.”

she nods while looking down, unable to meet geto’s gaze. too embarrassed to voice her concern furthermore, she mutters “yes father, please forgive me.”

“i am not the one you should be asking for forgiveness, ask the man above. now if you’ll excuse me, i’ll introduce myself to the newest member of our church.” he smiles gracefully before making his way towards mrs. johnson and her ‘scandalous’ granddaughter. 

he takes small steps towards you, puffing his chest out as he walks with a sense of pride. sure you were a pretty girl, but he was only interested to guide you through your religious journey. 

“father geto, i introduce you to my granddaughter. this is y/n. she’s only 20, and she recently moved into town to take care of me. isn’t she the kindest?”

he loses his train of thought. he's unable to bring himself to utter a single word. you were much more gorgeous up-close. if he were to describe your beauty, he’d be too overwhelmed, and wouldn’t know where to start. maybe he’d start with the way your nose fits your face perfectly. or, how your smile molded perfectly with your faint smile lines. 

geto snaps out of his trance, and quickly introduces himself. 

“i’m father geto. welcome to this church, i hope your stay has been great so far.” he purred. 

you squint your eyes at him. almost as if you already knew the rumors going around. nonetheless, you shake his hand. 

“like my grandma said, i’m y/n. i do hope we cross paths alone in the future.”

he blushes from the way you shaked his hand, but also put your other hand on his. solidifying the handshake more than it needed too. not only that, the last comment you made. crossing paths.. alone?

“my confessional booth is always open before my sermon, and at 9 PM on sundays. if that’s what you mean of course.” 

you puff your chest out and let out a dramatic sigh. taking in your arms, and letting them rest to your side, you open your mouth to speak. he stares at your lips, refusing to make eye contact.

“the sermon did end, i guess i’ll have to see you later tonight.” you assured him before walking over to your grandmother who made conversation with someone else. he watched you walk away, allowing himself to sneak a peek from behind. 

later that day, geto was having lunch. he finds himself unable to focus on his best friend's story, the words going in one ear and out the other. all the plays in his mind is you, and what you could possibly up to.

“satoru, i think i was seduced today after my sermon.” he spilled out, no longer able to contain his thoughts. 

“gross! how old was she? 50? 69? HA, get it? 69?” 

geto rolls his eyes at the blue eyed ‘man’ who acted immaturely any chance he got. maybe he really should have kept his thoughts to himself. it was better than trying to converse it with an actual man-child.

“goodness satoru, no. she was a few years younger than me. 4 years to be exact. she’s one of the elder’s granddaughter, and the way she spoke to me made me feel like i was sinning. i didn’t even do anything!”

“well..”

his eyebrow quirks as satoru began his sentence. 

“did she have big tits?” 

geto’s face quickly turned from curiosity to disgust. he abruptly stood up from the table, placing both hands on it for support, and got all up in satoru’s face.

“how could you ever speak so unashamedly about a lady like that?! let alone speak like that in front of a priest!”

“well forgive me father, i didn’t mean to offend you and your girlfriend,” satoru said sarcastically while putting his hands up defensively. “i’ve said worse, and you’ve never had a problem with it until now. she must’ve had big tits for you to go all preacher mode on me.“  

as much as geto didn’t want to admit it, satoru was right. there were many time's geto allowed the white haired man to say the most diabolical stuff known to man. even listening when satoru would describe women’s bodies in detail and occasionally his one night stands. why was this any different?

“excuse me, is that you father?” 

there is was.

the seductive voice he met only hours ago. both boys slowly turn their heads to the h/c girl standing right in front of them. their eyes met with the beauty talked about earlier. only now you were wearing a shorter version of the dress you wore earlier. 

“m-miss. y/n? i’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time. what brings you here?” 

you only acknowledge one of the two men in front of her, and of course it was geto. your eyes met his, and never shifted away. it was almost like a dance of temptation, daring him to do further than just eye contact. the dark aura coming from you was overwhelming him, or maybe it was just your strong perfume. 

“i apologize for the disruption, father geto. my grandma asked me to run some errands. i guess i’ll have to speak with you later tonight.“ 

before geto could get a word in, you once again walk off. just like before, he once again glances down there. 

forgive me Lord, for i have sinned. 

“dude what the fuck was that..” the white haired man questioned. he also noticed the thick tension that was stirred by non other than you.

“i d-don’t know. i cannot see her tonight. i’m scared she might tempt me into.. into doing something that’s against the scripture.”

he now finds himself in the confessional booth, anxiously waiting for your arrival. it was currently 9:47 PM, you were late. it did not help his anxiety at all. he’d give you until 10:15 for you to arrive. anything later would have to just be scheduled on another sunday. 

he lets out a deep breath before he hears the clattering of heels. geto takes a peak out of his curtain only to be met with a sultry gaze. he quickly closes off his curtain, and subconsciously wipes his sweaty palms on his lap. this was like any other confessional, there was nothing to be conspicuous. 

“father geto? are you there?“ you ask in a voice just above a whisper. 

geto swallows whatever was in his mouth before speaking.

 “of course i am.“ 

“ahem, forgive me father. i have sinned since i first moved into this town. actually, i sinned today after the sermon.“ 

he stays silent. he’s tempted to ask what you’ve done, and if it possibly had something to do with him. but you answer his unspoken questions before he can think about it for too long.

“before moving into this lovely town, my grandmother sent me a picture of her priest. goodness, i didn’t know what to do with myself.“ 

he was determined to stay stoic, and not to speak unless it was to say a prayer. but her hushed voice and the strong tension made it difficult. the air seemed to thicken every time she finished a sentence. geto couldn’t escape your magnetic pull of lust.

“a-and if i may ask, what did you do to deal with your problem?”

“i couldn’t resist myself. after i saw the photo of him, i began to have lewd thoughts. every night leading up to my departure, i’d touch myself thinking about him. then..”

she lets out a small moan, but geto would describe it as a small whine. now he was breathing heavily as his boxers started to tighten up. there was no way he could get hard in the church. it was sinful. but he was here to help you, and allowed you to continue.

“i met him today. after the sermon i started using objects to make myself feel satisfied. but it was nothing compared to his large hands shaking my hand. i can only imagine him using his hands going inside of me instead of holding a bible. even now, i cannot resist his voice..” you confessed as heavy breathing came from your end. 

“..come over to my side dear. let me help you.” he whispered.

you waste no time he notes from the sounds coming from the other side. your heels clacked once or twice before you pulled the curtain from his side. 

he studies your face very carefully. there was a light red tint spreading across your cheeks, and your ears were bright red. his eyes then wander down to your very revealing shirt that showed a lot of cleavage. the shirt was accompanied by a matching skirt, a very, VERY, short skirt.

you walk into the tight fitting booth. before he can get his hands on you, you kneel down in between his legs. your pretty little head lays on his left thigh.

“forgive me father. how can i ever make you forgive me for my sins?” you lift your head and your hands start to wander on the edge of his pants. “tell me father, there must be a way..”

geto feels a bead of sweat going down his forehead. there were many times that grandparents introduced their grandchildren to him, in hopes they get married. or, when satoru would convince him to agree to a blind date. his answer of rejection was always the same. 

‘i am devoted to the man above, i musn’t be distracted.’ 

where was his reasoning of rejection when he watches you pull both his pants and undergarments off? 

you grab his dick and painfully slowly lick the tip of it. leaving any pre-cum on his tip, now in your mouth. a slight moan leaves his mouth. this was a pleasure that he’s never experienced before. devoting all 24 years of his life to God has never brought this much fulfilment. 

where was his reasoning of rejection when you put his whole dick in your mouth without any hesitation?

your sudden move of deep throating him caught him off guard. he’s now holding your head in a gentle manner, as gentle as he can be. geto is lost at words, he can only moan uncontrollably while playing with your hair. the only thing he can fixate his eyes on was your beautiful hair getting tangled into his fingers. 

where was his reasoning when you made him finish in under five minutes even though it felt like an eternity for him?

you continue to suck him off, hollowing your cheeks for a better suction. your hands wander down to his balls, giving it a small massage. you're not sure what you did right, but it worked. geto was now praising your name instead of the lord’s. he feels an unfamiliar knot unwinding itself. 

“y/n.. please i feel..” he lets out a breathy moan instead of finishing his sentence. his eyes shut close to full enjoy the euphoric feeling. why did he want to reject your advances in the first place? he can't seem to remember. 

“father..” you cooed while taking off his shirt. of course, the hot pastor with a big dick was also very nicely built.

“oh geto, why do you hide this from me?”

your hands wander his chest then it starts to follow his happy trail. your movement was haltered when he reached out for your chest.

“the same could be said for yourself. show yourself to me, please. i beg.”

his eyes looked like a puppy who had been kicked. there was no sane woman in the world who would say no to his violet eyes. your hand then reaches out for his, and then place his hand on the hem of your shirt.

“take it off for me, father geto.”

being enchanted with your hypnotic gaze, it drew him like a moth to a flame. he lifted your shirt, taking your bra off as well, and stared with admiration. you had an art of seduction that was compared to no other. he watches you sit on his lap as you lift your skirt. 

this is sin. he was sinning. 

but he didn’t stop you as you sat slowly onto his dick, moaning in joy. he watches you go up and down painfully slow.

“c-can you go a little faster..?“ he moaned into your ear. being too embarrassed by his request, he buries himself on the side of your neck. taking in your scent, leaving small pecks on the spots you sprayed perfume. 

“you’re t-too big geto~” you whined into his ear before you attached your lips onto his. 

he was an inexperienced kisser. an inexperienced everything actually. it was easy for you to take the lead by biting onto his bottom lip. he opened his mouth to let out a small whine of pain and you took the opportunity to slip your tongue in. 

you feel yourself juices slide down your thigh onto geto’s lap as you continue to bounce on his dick. large hands start groping your ass, giving you a smack on one of your cheeks. you yelp in response. it was unexpected from a priest.

“father, use me. be as rough as you want with me.” your hands start undoing his bun, turning his hair into a disheveled mess. 

“i-i shouldn't be so mmm- rough on you.” 

you felt honored by his insistence on being so gentle. his grip on your waist tells you a different story. it was obvious he wanted to go faster than the pace you set.

“please geto, for me at least.”

oh, how could he ever deny your requests? 

his grip on your waist tightens as he lifts you up and rams into you. all pent up sexual frustrations he’s ever had in the past 24 years are being taken out on you. throughout the heavens and earth, you were his only sole purpose in life. the way you took him in so good without any complaints was proof enough. 

marks form on his shoulder and back from the scratches you were leaving. it was the only way you could hold yourself up. if not, you’d fall right into his arms while he’d continue to show no mercy on your pussy. 

geto was starting to feel what he felt earlier when you were in between his legs. his eyes gaze at yours, and gets a site he’d never unsee. small tears started forming, threatening to leave your eyes. your mouth agape as one hand held onto his shoulder, the other groping yourself.

“father geto, i-i’m ahh, i’m so close~”

on sync, the both of you came at the very same time.

geto found it more ironic than disgust when he saw the scene unfold. priest of six years, never had a temptation once in those six years. his lap was now covered in cum from not only his but the new girl in town. the new girl who easily seduced him

“forgive us lord, for the father and i have sinned.” you purred right into his ear, almost biting it. 

he massages your waist before finally putting you on your two feet. you're barely able to stand up without the support of the wall.

"y/n, we can never do this again. never speak to me unless it's about my sermon."

now it was his turn to leave before you could get a word in. he pulls his pants up and swiftly puts his shirt back on.

"you were sent by the devil, and i've failed my lord. stay far away from me you whore."

[rdthoughtdaughter]

Hello! I am basically asking here what YouTubers or female created media is out there that you recommend? I am tired of media just being pain/death/torture of a female character or like with popular female/youtubers streamers having constant sexual and pornified jokes or even having to deal with misogyny or the same issues in female written books. Is there any way to avoid it/do you have recs? Sorry if my question is convoluted I have headache at the moment

Hello! Do not apologise for your question, I found it delightful. That’s actually a great topic to speak on. Ok, so I will share my media consumption, but to all fellow radfems watching, please share yours as well! I would love recommendations.

Starting with YouTube. Can’t say that I’m an avid watcher, but there are some female channels that I follow & watch:

1) Emmy’s Existential Zone. It’s a ‘renowned philosopher and psychologist who has worked as an existential therapist since 1973’. What I like about her videos is that they are always colourful, often with natural setting. She talks about life in a very simple yet striking language. Also, it’s just great to see women aging naturally and gracefully ;)

2) Leah’s Fieldnotes. A little bit of everything, vlogs, ramblings, skincare, art. Love Leah 🫶🏼🙌🏼

3) The CottageFairy. I’m very passionate about nature, so I found the content of this lovely woman immersive. To live so in tune with nature is my goal in life.

4) Dr Octavia Cox. An educational content, literature related. Found her when I was preparing to A Levels, she is great. Dr Cox makes her videos on some specific topics from a particular book. I love the category of videos where she explores the riddles from the books. For example, I was always curious on why did Mr Wickham elope with Lydia, when she was penniless, he always had grand ambitions of becoming an Alfons. She explored it in detail with quotes, in a very engaging manner. Look her up!

5) maleeka, is my guardian angel. She shares her life lessons, I suppose it’s a philosophy type of content. She has a very pleasing storytelling skills and she is a talented editor, or to be honest, she’s just talented period. I find it more befitting for me, than say wizardliz. Because of her I have a favourite quote :«You are the sky. Everything else- it’s just the weather” -Peña Chiödrön

6) Inayah. An endearing woman, who speaks about most poignant of the matters. Always a fascinating setting, love when she talks while working on flowers. She’s very outspoken and has a great vocabulary. Love her.

7)LabrysArchive. Made by a legendary radfem, it’s a project where you can see the most different archive videos on radical feminism. Doing the goddesses’ work.

I was also a huge fan of Sophia Esperanza, she was sharing spiritual videos about self acceptance and living with nature. Unfortunately, she deleted her videos for some reason :(

Regarding books, I personally love everything made by Jane Austen. Besides her books being absolutely brilliantly written, I’m also always amazed by the context of her books as well. To write so many interesting, free thinking women at that time? In 18th-19th century? A role model.

If you want to find a pool of feminist literature, or just female literature I recommend ladielabrys2’ linktree, she has a radical feminist library, with all kinds of topics. <3

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

Is mentioned that reader has a good heart and helps those in need. So it occurred to me a scenario from the Journey arc, where the pilgrims come across some Villages where the story is told of the strange mortal woman who traveled with a monkey demon and helped them at some point. Or maybe it could be a moment where she already has the artefacts and uses them to help people.

I feel this would be a dramatic for the king and his warrior to hear about.

Ooh now this is a fun one!

The tale of Reader and Spirit. A story that would be centuries old but still one told to small children of the village.

As always you walked closes to Tripitaka, the next village was only about a few more minutes. It was nearly dusk so you were massively grateful for the town coming up. You just hoped that Wukong and Macaque wouldn’t cause any issues. Or Pigsy, because he’s been a pain in the ass for the last while too.

Glancing over yout shoulder you looked at the two monkey demons, both were walking next to each other. If not for the circlets on their heads they would probably be fighting again, neither was pleased to be here. You felt your chest tighten, you were the reason they were on this journey, you were the reason they had to suffer with the circlets…

You forced the thoughts out of your head, clenching your fists tightly. They didn’t know, and they would never know. You did it for them, so they could be free from their prisons. This was for the best. They didn’t need to know it was you, they didn’t even need to know they were traveling with you.

This town it was familiar, Macaque couldn’t help but think. His eyes glanced around before they landed on a wooden stage. It was old, made from the base of a ginormous tree that had been cut down ages ago. An old woman sat on the edge of it with a harp in her hand.

“Awe hello there travelers,” the woman said with a smile, her eyes shining a beautiful amber color.

“Hello ma’am, do you know where we could stay the night?” Tripitaka asked politely.

“Of course, they tend to allow travelers to sleep in that house. They are very hospitable,” the woman explained kindly, still strumming her harp.

You watched the Monk thank her and you gave her a grateful bow. Her eyes caught sight of the purple ribbon that was tied to the top of your mask. Her smile widened ever so slightly before she called you back.

“Do you need something?” You asked, confused how you even gained her attention with your mask. Most didn’t notice you at all while you wore the glamoured and enchanted mask on your face.

“It’s nothing big dear, I just couldn’t help remember an old story is all. Would you mind listening to this old woman?” She asked with a warm smile gracing her face.

“Well…” You looked over at Tripitaka who nodded you had time for one story, “I guess that’s a yes.”

The woman gracefully moved her fingers along the harp as she spoke in a crystal clear voice, “Long ago far before my time there was a young woman who wandered through this village, with her came a young monkey demoness and two monkey cubs.”

Both Wukong and Macaque froze when they heard her speak, Wukong’s eyes widening while Macaque’s darkened slightly.

“They were lovely women who healed a young man’s leg, they asked for nothing in return and refused any payment for their work. Because of them that man was able to protect this village from being destroyed. Many praised the young man but none truly think about the fact that he never would have been able to help if not for those girls,” The woman said with a smile.

Both monkey demons felt their hearts clench, they knew this story, they remembered that day.

Behind your mask you could feel sweat on your brow as you tried your best not to look at the monkey duo. They didn’t need to see your face, not that they could behind your mask. Even if Wukong were to look at you all he would see is the mask, a piece of wood that was carefully carved. He wouldn’t be able to see your actual face.

Wukong wanted to punch someone, to throw something. He didn’t want to have to be reminded of you his precious wife, who he FAILED. If he had just been on the island you would have never died. His fists clenched to his sides as he tried his best to steady his breathing without full on crying.

Macaque was silent as he stared at the woman. He didn’t say anything just followed after Tripitaka as his mind wandered back to the wonderful days of when you were still with them. When you would cuddle up to them at night and when he knew you’d always be back home waiting for them to return. Those days were long gone, it had been well over 600 years since he had last seen you, he shouldn’t dwell on what can’t be changed.

>>>

Short and sweet. Well not so sweet for the warlords who don’t want to remember their wife but at the same time they don’t want to forget. They do want to remember but they don’t want the pain of that memory. Wonder what’s gonna happen when they find out their wife has been closer than either of them thought.

Oh and I should mentioned the Journey Arc will be spilt up into a few different arcs. I’m not going to go over every demon and mountain they pass by BUT I will be doing a few of them. Afterward I’ll be getting to the LMK arcs!!

[treasure-mimic]

Psychopomp and What Things Mean When They Don't Mean Anything

So if you haven't noticed or you don't follow me, I recently became interested in a small, one-man dev team indie game by name of Psychopomp. As a brief synopsis and pitch, Psychopomp is a game about a woman who seemingly suffers from paranoid delusions, through the lens of this narrator she tells us that there's a labyrinth of catacombs hidden underneath every public building and sets out to explore them to uncover the world's secrets, armed with nothing but a store bought hammer.

The game's intro puts it in words better than I could and more influential than any pitch is just seeing the protagonist's design.

As one commentator states, she looks like a skateboard mascot from the mid-2000s. Like she should be on those posters with a snarky quip just fucked up enough to catch those pearl clutching puritans off guard. I love the style and I love the tone and I love the premise.

This might be the best time to note that if you're interested in playing this game, you should stop reading here, as this discussion will contain spoilers. It's a short game, took me about 3 hours on my first playthrough, and it's pretty cheap, even has a free demo in the form of the base version with Psychopomp Gold serving as the expanded, completed experience.

Anyways.

I've always found conspiracy theories fascinating but in the modern age it can be hard to immerse yourself in these reality-detached belief systems without acknowledging, you know, the racist dogwhistling and tangible physical harm it's causing to society at the present moment. Psychopomp is able to pretty gracefully sidestep this issue by setting its anarchic anti-government sentiments against its protagonist's paranoid delusions rather than adherence to a faith or belief system.

Indeed, the game seems to take systemic beliefs as its central enemy. The entities that are necessary to kill to progress through its levels are defined by the systems they interact in, historical figures of elevated status, keystone positions in industrial manufacturing, even abstract systems like urbanism and DNA composition are posed as societal and oppressive. I'm not saying that there's no way to interpret the game in bad faith and make it directed at marginalized social, political, or ethnic groups, but I also struggle to imagine the person who takes the game literally on its face value?

Which I guess leads me to the main topic I wanted to discuss. The game very obviously has an unreliable narrator (for the record, the protagonist remains nameless for the bulk of the game, I will be referring to her as Venus as it's the closest she has to a name that's explicitly stated within the text itself) with the flavor of one whose intake of reality may be different from what's actually occurring. The game uses a combination of conspiratorial rambling and dream logic to stage its unreal tone; for example, one level delves into the "biology" of buildings, stating that they use graffiti to communicate and that black mold is a pheromone used to evacuate its inhabitants to allow for mating. Loading screens come with "Gameplay Tips" and "Real World Tips", both of which are often dense and inscrutable; for example you might get a pair like "Not all enemies are friends" and "Viruses do not exist. Illness is simply your body punishing you for what you've done wrong."

Surrealism and unreality as stylistic choices can be a bit of a tightrope walk to get right. On the one hand, if you make it explicit that a story takes place in a state that did not happen even within the story's universe, a dream or a hallucination, it can rob the narrative of its stakes, regardless of how well executed the internal metaphors are. Psychopomp very explicitly does not do this, regardless of what it is that Venus is experiencing, the game makes it clear through scientific logs and communications (as well as a brief epilogue set outside of her perspective) that something abnormal is happening, the question is just where in between normality and Venus's experiences does the truth of the game's narrative actually lie.

The other side of the tight rope is literal interpretation, presenting a setting that's absurd to our sensibilities but tangibly explainable, where meaning is supplanted by lore and the cosmology begins to solidify into a set of Calvinball rules that don't make sense, but are still adhered to, and this is the side Psychopomp threatens to lose me on. There is a credible argument to be made that there is no difference, that what Venus is experiencing is her reality without warping and distortion, it's a more credible argument than saying she completely fabricated all of it, and it's an argument I was starting to wonder wasn't the intended interpretation. Until I got the game's second, secret ending.

Psychopomp has one collectible that doesn't serve a direct gameplay purpose, but each catacomb has a key hidden away, often behind false mimic walls that bleed and scream when you hit them with your hammer, and which unlock new rooms in the only permanent location "Home". Initially a gray, cubical, concrete room with a single mattress and a small table with a radio on it, collecting keys allows you to further explore outside(?)/within(?) the home with a unique camera perspective and limited interaction. In the first layer there's a blob man who cries out in torment, demanding to know why you specifically made the world like this, giving some credence to the deification of Venus implied by the game's ending. In the last layer, Venus traverses underneath and past her own brain to unlock a repressed memory.

I take this as confirmation that there's some level of abstraction at play here. Under scrutiny it feels as though there must be some level of abstraction at play here because when taken as a whole, the conspiracies start becoming outright contradictory, even if you try to take the cosmology at play as fact, which are the closest thing to objective facts that we have.

See, Venus's perspective takes place an alternate Earth, one that both seemingly was broken off from the planet and now orbits it like a new moon but also has always existed. One of the locations is a natural history museum which explains the history of sentience on this counter-earth, humans rose, went extinct, were supplanted by a species called the thrait, then humans returned in a mutated form and retook the surface and forced the thrait back underground (though the museum also refers to the thrait as extinct despite being the most common friendly NPC you will encounter). Another location seems to imply that the humans of this world, or maybe only some of them, are artificial clay creatures, reinforced by the arbiters of the DNA factory too being clay alleles. The Human Seedbed even has the game's most effective jumpscare in it, where Venus cannot leave the area without being confronted with a jittering clay facsimile of herself.

But with that in mind, what the hell is Venus then? By no account is she one of these artificial clay people but then how did she get here? The game's introduction implies that she used to be a normal person, or at least closer to, with lived experiences inclusive of complete ignorance to this underworld, the game's endings imply that she's an immortal god-being who has been intentionally working towards her own reawakening, and that is actually one of the least ambiguous plot points within the narrative. None of the pieces of this world lock together to form a cohesive vision of a setting that operates on even the barest of internal rules, and yet the game in the same step refuses to be a character study or subconscious examination, I mean the epilogue is a damn sequel hook that involves assembling the damn Avengers to combat the ramifications of the events of the game.

So, I come to realize, I'm the problem. I might, in fact, be thinking about this too hard.

One of the locations in the game is called "Daddy's Bad Place". It is a single, tiny room of a house or apartment, frozen in a moment of tearing itself apart, that only contains a dusty old TV set with a small, pointless ornament sitting on top. In any other surrealist game, this isolated circle of clarity, a compact orb of recognizable terrain, would be a moment to deliver one single jolt of reality into the metaphor of the protagonist's journey through their own subconscious.

In Psychopomp the TV turns on and delivers a distorted warning about a giant insect which is deadly, deceitful, and above all, not real.

In Daddy's Bad Place I come to realize something. The lore is fake, the characterization is fake, the dichotomy of truth and delusion is fake, the insect is not real. Let's think about what I'm doing here for a moment, right? I'm trying to discern the truth from within a work of fiction. None of its true, none of it happened, what difference does it actually make?

The thing about conspiracy theories is that they don't make logical sense. It's a known phenomenon that conspiracy theorists love to debate, but cannot be reasoned out of their beliefs by facts or logic. There is never a counter, but always a failsafe argument that can be retreated to for safety. What conspiracy theories do make is emotional sense, they make narrative sense. The line that initially sold me on Psychopomp was one of the aforementioned loading screen tips, "All the food you've ever eaten is rotten. You have never tasted fresh food."

Patently false statement, does not hold under scrutiny, but I, as someone who lives in America and lives in a city center and has to get all my food through corporations, can look at a statement like that and say yeah. Checks out. I believe you. We would know if children were being smelted into egg slicers underneath public schools, but it resonates with our emotions about the systems of education we enforce upon children, so it could be true. We would know if buildings were a living, reproducing organism, but it resonates with the feelings of being born into a world where urbanism exists, has existed as permanent fixtures of the world, and is continuously encroaching upon the face of the world, so it could be true.

Anyone who understands the fundamentals of incentives and human psychology does not need to believe that there is a coordinated group of ontologically evil individuals driving the world to ruin for ruin's sake, but that narrative still feels true, it becomes validating in the ways that it plays off of the emotions of believers until it becomes a foundational pillar of belief that cannot be destroyed by logical contradiction.

Psychopomp, in the same way, presents information about its internal systems that cannot be true logically but form self-justification anyways through emotional resonance. It doesn't matter if the lore works because its stated, it isn't wrong, so it must be a truth. This is the way that Psychopomp emulates the unreality of the conspiracy theory in a way that can avoid the disturbing implications of the real world practice. I've made comparison to surrealism by dream logic and surrealism by internal self-reflection, but this is a different mode entirely and the game simply refuses to operate by those tropes at its core. Conspiracy is itself contradiction, not the soft contradiction of two halves of a dream that don't lock together, but the hard contradiction of attempting to apply emotion and narrative to a waking world that rejects either premise. Psychopomp, then, is surrealism by way of conspiracy.

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Andrew | The Past To Rest | Romantic

Dialogue prompt: “I just need one date. That’s it.” 

Uncertain whether you’d like to be with the brother of your former bully in spite of having feelings for him, you decide to give him one chance.

Requested by Livvy

Mary’s place isn’t large nor luxurious but you don’t mind it in the slightest. It is good enough to host four women although the furniture needs to be shoved around a bit, and soon enough, you’ve created a cosy little space for all of you. You have claimed a spot in the corner and have positioned a few cushions here and there, reluctantly giving two away to both Tamar and Ramah, making yourself a little cocoon of comfort, together with a few old blankets Mary had lying around to complete it. 

“You look very snug.” Tamar laughs lightly as she tosses you an apple. You catch it gracefully and sit up a bit. 

“I am. It’s been some time since we’ve slept with an actual roof over our heads and I intend to make the best of it.” 

“I second that,” Ramah adds, planting a hand on her hip as she looks around the place you’ve created for yourselves. “I really like this. Thank you for letting us stay here, Mary.” 

The woman in question smiles softly and shrugs. “Oh, it’s nothing, really. It’s too big for one person, anyways.” 

“Nonsense, Mary. Stop being so humble. You could have charged us rent for this,” you jest, causing her to laugh. 

“Oh, shush.” 

You smile and take a large bite of the apple, sighing as you sink away into your pillows. “You never know what you have until you lose it. For example, a good bed. Or at least one that stands above the ground.” 

Ramah hums as she looks at you, taking a sip of her drink. “Had you told me a year ago I’d sleep under the stars more often than not, I’d have considered you mad.” 

“Me, too,” you must admit, “I only realised the kind of luxury I lived in until it was taken from me. Not only do I consider it unnecessary now, but I also feel more grateful for the few things I do have.” 

You ponder back on your old life for a moment whilst you enjoy the fresh fruit. Before you decided to follow Jesus you had lived with your parents, not yet being betrothed. Alphaeus and Elisheva hadn’t found you an eligible bachelor yet whom they deemed fit for marriage to their only daughter. Ever since they disowned Matthew, they had become extra protective over you, and in turn, extremely picky when it came to choosing a potential suitor for you. 

Before you could be married off however, you decided to follow the Messiah. Although hesitant about the ordeal at first, your parents supported you eventually, noticing how much fulfilment it gave you. They had yet to become believers themselves, but perhaps you could pay them a visit now that you were around Capernaum again in order to try and convince them.

You joined the group before Matthew did, and one individual in particular saw an issue with that. Your former bully, Simon the son of Jonah, found that the sins of your brother clung to you as well, as if it had been your choice that he took up the job of publicanus. 

However, reason seems to have never truly developed in Simon even after puberty, making it so that he often makes snide comments in this day and age, long after your brother has decided to follow the Messiah as well. 

A shame, for you have caught feelings for Simon’s younger brother. What one feels cannot be dictated, so you have been trying to push away your secret pining for a long time. After all, the last thing you want is for Simon to become your brother-in-law. Besides, if Andrew liked you in that same way, he would have stood up for you by now. Needless to say, you don’t want these feelings for him.

Tossing the core of the eaten apple into the bin, you sigh and wrap a blanket around you tightly. 

“(Y/n),” Tamar guffaws, “It’s sweltering hot in here, you don’t need—” 

“—I’m very comfortable. That’s all what matters.” 

You laugh, Tamar rolling her eyes playfully at your antics. Mary notices an absentminded smile on Ramah’s face, a small smile tugging at the lips of the woman from Tel Dor, her fingers fiddling with the bright red of her veil.

“What’s on your mind…?” Mary asks in a sing-song voice, causing both you and Tamar to pipe up with great interest. “Or should I say, whom?” 

Ramah can’t help her face from beaming at the mention of Thomas, making you click your tongue in adoration. “Look at that blush!” you quip, “Ramah is in loo-oove!” 

“Oh, come on, don’t be so loud about it!” 

“Ramah and Thomas... Getting together, getting married, having babies…” you drawl, grinning as you tease your friend. “O-o-oooh!” 

Ramah snorts a laugh and tosses the cushion you had handed her earlier back into your arms, making you grin. “Thank you very much,” you hug it closer to your chest, “Now… Are things finally happening or what?” 

Mary rests her chin on her hand and smiles at Ramah whilst Tamar wiggles her eyebrows, causing you to snicker. Ramah bites her lips and leaves you in the dark for just a few more moments. 

“As soon as he sees an opportunity, Thomas is going to ask Jesus if he can go to Tel Dor to ask my father for my hand in marriage…” 

You squeal in unison with Tamar, whilst Mary beams from ear to ear. “Oh, wow! And when is that?” 

“Soon, I hope. We truly hope that he will agree, but I know that it is going to be tough. My father is not yet a believer, as you all know.” 

You hum in acknowledgement, knowing the painful feeling of non-believing parents and wanting to gain their support.

“How about you, (Y/n)?” Ramah suddenly redirects the attention, and you give her a questioning look.

“Hm?” 

“Do you have your eye on someone?” 

Your eyes widen and you frown, looking at your lap. “Me? Uh… No, no, I don’t have time for things like that.” You shrug and plaster a fake smile over your lips to hide your sudden flustered state. “I’m not into anyone, and I don’t think I will be looking for anyone soon, either.” 

Tamar snorts a laugh as the women fall silent for a moment, staring at you in disbelief. “Do you expect us to believe you?” 

Your heart hammers inside your chest as you grow uncomfortable. “Huh? What do you mean?” 

Mary smirks. “Please, (Y/n). You aren’t exactly subtle whenever we bring up Andrew.” The colour drains from your face at the mention of his name and you nearly choke on your own saliva. 

“That’s— Utter nonsense!” 

“You’re proving her point, girl,” Tamar teases, grinning as she leans closer to you, “Don’t think we can’t see the way your entire body language changes whenever he’s the topic of conversation, or whenever he is standing close to you.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter, but your sudden fiddling with the cushion in your lap betrays you. “Besides, it wouldn’t work anyways!” 

Ramah smiles softly. “Why not? From what I’ve gathered, Andrew thinks you are very sweet, too.” 

Your eyes shoot up to meet hers and you gulp. “What? Really? I— I mean, whatever? Why would I care?” Mary and Tamar give each other a knowing smirk. 

“Come on, admit it. We know you like him and we know he likes you back. Tamar heard him speak to Philip about it the other day.” Mary muses.

You give the woman from Ethiopia a look, and she nods eagerly to confirm it. “Yes, it’s true. He asked Philip for advice on how to approach you, wondering what would be a gentlemanly way to go about it.” 

You snort a laugh and roll your eyes. “Sure, he’s asking Philip. You expect me to buy that? Come on, he’s got a brother who is married. If Andrew were to ask for any advice of such nature, he’d ask Simon. Not an unmarried man. Psh.” 

Picking at a loose thread on the cushion, you try to ignore their scrutiny. Ramah takes a sip from her cup before giving you a thoughtful look. “Perhaps he’s afraid of what Simon might think of his crush on you. I know that you have a… Rather sensitive past. Simon used to bully you, no?”

“Yes!” you immediately exclaim, “and he still makes mean comments about Matthew’s past! And it is the exact reason why I can’t like Andrew in the way I do, because it would be too complicated!” 

“Complicated?” Mary quizzes, “With Jesus, things are a whole lot less complicated. I mean, look at where He found me in life, and look at where He brought me.” 

“Of course, but that is between you and Jesus,” you say with a sigh, “Not between you and… Another ‘regular’ person, for lack of better term.” You let out a frustrated huff. “Not between you and your literal bully.”

“Brother of your former bully.” Ramah corrects you.

As you run a hand down your face, Tamar scoots a little closer to you, putting a hand on your arm. You look up from your comfortable position in your blankets and pillows, which have started to become more of a hiding spot than anything. 

“What happened in the past should not determine the present or the future.” 

“Tell that to Simon,” you bitterly respond, “It is not as if he likes me now, or Matthew.” 

“It goes both ways.” Tamar then adds, “You have to let go of the past, too.” 

You swallow hard. “I already have let go of the past—” you mutter, “Really! I just— I can’t do it to Matthew to walk up to him and say something along the lines of ’oh by the way, I am going to marry the brother of our bully, have a nice day!’” You throw your hands up in frustration. The pillow that had been in your lap rolls onto the ground, but you don’t chase it.

Mary sighs and picks it up, putting it behind her. “Listen, (Y/n). You would find it unfair of them to judge you by your past, no?” 

You grit your teeth. “Simon teased us before Matthew took on the position. Besides, it is not my responsibility what my family chooses to do. Simon should finally learn that.” 

“So you would cheat yourself out of a potentially very fulfilling relationship because of that?” 

“I—” You open your mouth to speak, but words die on your tongue. You let out a noise of frustration.

“(Y/n),” Ramah muses, “All of us have learnt so much during our time with Jesus. One of the main lessons was to not judge others by who they were, but instead focus on who they are today, transformed and renewed by the Messiah. Redeemed. You wouldn’t judge Mary by her past, would you?”

“I… No.” 

“So why hold it against them? Andrew is as responsible for Simon’s choices, as you are for Matthew’s.”

Unable to find a good counter-argument, you sigh, thinking for a long moment under three watchful gazes. With a sound of defeat, you swallow hard. 

“Fine,” you say, “I will give him a chance. I just need one date. That’s it. One for Andrew to prove himself to me.” 

Ramah puts her hand on your shoulder and smiles down at you. “Be fair about it, (Y/n). Be kind on him, for I am sure it has gone through his mind as well. Knowing Andrew, I think he is very regretful about the past and most likely would apologise if you gave him a chance to.” 

You look up at your friends, letting the tension from your shoulders fade. You know deep down that they are right, and that it would be unfair of you to remain bitter about what once was. 

“But to come back to what you said,” Mary muses, smiling softly, “I think that one date is all that it requires for him to finally allow him to win you over once and for all.”

With a growing blush, you laugh and hide your face in your hands. “Quit teasing me about it! The more you do it, the higher the chance that I will chicken out!” 

“We will make sure that you won’t!” Tamar counters, pointing a finger at you, “And if you do, we will personally drag you to Andrew so that you can finally confess to him!” 

Tamar is unable to dodge the cushion launched at her face.

[kittencomicslol]

UNFINISHED GYUTARO X READER FICS PART 3

This one was ermmm the Valentine’s Day fic I promised and didn’t deliver on. Whoops! Timelines usually end up in me dropping a fic unfortunately. Didn’t exactly like this one, it was a bit all over the place.

___

No warnings! Unless you wanna mention tooth rotting fluff. Got this idea a few weeks back when I found heart shaped noodles at the store. Thought a quick little domestic Valentine’s Day Fic would be sweet. Modern au ofc because that’s how I roll

The wind howled outside and only worsened the chilling temperatures that froze the natural world. Large crystal flakes fell gracefully from the sky in bulk, blurring the view outside and painting the earth in a beautiful white sheet. The weather could become as freezing as it pleased, though it would not change the warm fires of love and devotion this day brought about.

The faint sound of boiling water was the only audible thing in the whole house, everything else having fizzled out into a peaceful stillness. You knew it was only a matter of minuites until the timer you had set on your phone for the pasta to finish cooking would set off, shattering the peaceful moment you were currently enjoying. Though it would put an end to your current comfort with your lover, it would also be another moment with him. Eating dinner was such a mundane task, one Gyutaro wasn’t even very fond of most of his life. When he was a child there was rarely even food around to have dinner. But the thought of simply eating food with you on Valentine’s Day made his heart do flips in his chest. He had always been the provider since he was a little boy, constantly fending to earn enough to properly take care of his sister. Most of the time he only ended up with enough to keep her healthy, but not himself. Gyutaro’s mind eventually developed the thought process that he wasn’t deserving of food because his sister always needed it more. None of the logic was realistic of course, there were several flaws in it. But unfortunately that was just how he had to grow up. Ever since life has been more well of for him and little Ume, he’s been trying to break those bad habits. So to have you so willingly allow him to take a break from the constant work, to just relax while you made the two of you a nice dinner felt surreal. You insisting on him coming over for a meal made him feel seen.

You saw him as worthy enough to cook a meal for, to put effort into. That was normal for lovers though, wasn’t it? Not that Gyutaro was very educated on what romance was meant to be. He never had any time to focus on anything but Ume, not even himself or his own needs were given time for most of his life. And even so he wanted to learn how to be a good partner, how to be better. For you, and for himself. It felt as if every night he remained awake wondering why you thought someone as vile as himself was worthy to get so close to someone as perfect as you. But here he was, body flush against your own swaddled in blankets on your couch. This could have been all you did with him the whole night and he’d still be overwhelmingly grateful for it. But oh you did so much more for him.

Gyutaro felt guilty sitting in silence with you, the fact that you were doing so much for him on Valentine’s Day while he seemed to do so little hitting his brain. Gyutaro did not want to ruin any of the plans you had clearly spent ages setting up for him. Hell, he was over the moon, you even set up anything. Whatever you gave him tonight he would appreciate and cherish for the rest of his life, nothing you were doing was the issue. It was him.

He was slowly getting on his feet as a legal adult, able to actually pay rent and food for him and Ume. It seemed like nothing to most but to them the lifestyle they lived in currently was lavish compared to the cold and dirty streets. But prices were high and pay wasn’t growing for anyone unfortunately.

Gyutaro held guilt for the fact he was still to this day too poor to buy you something fancy for Valentine’s Day. No fancy box of chocolates or a cute plushie. No fragrant bouquet of roses or a beautiful set of jewelry. No little trinkets or items he knew you would adore. He couldn’t afford to put him or his sister at risk of not having enough food to get you a gift.. so he tried the next best thing.

Weeks before valentines even hit Gyutaro spent hours online researching handmade gifts. He may not be able to provide you with anything showy but he’d be damned if he showed up empty handed. His already calloused spindly fingers were now littered with paper cuts after spending a tedious amount of time learning how to paper mache.

Earlier when he arrived at your place he had bundled all of the little paper flowers together with a little ribbon. The crafts were all sorts of different colors, all different shades of blues, pinks and reds. The stems on the paper flowers were thin sticks Gyutaro had foraged from outside.

You seemed to be flattered when he offered the gift to you, and you were. Gyutaro had put an overwhelming amount of time into crafting you a beautiful Valentine’s Day gift. Unlike a real bouquet of flowers, these would last forever if properly kept and taken care of. You now had a permanent reminder on your counter of how deeply Gyutaro loved you. And you told him as much, but unfortunately Gyutaro was still worried. No matter what he gave you he still couldn’t give you a gift that someone normal would. You said you liked it sure, but the fear of you lying to make him feel better loomed over him.

That fear he held was beginning to dwindle the longer he stayed close to you. Because if you truly harbored any anger with him, the gracious offer of giving him a nice dinner and doting upon him surely would be taken away from him. But it wasn’t. He was with you on your couch, listening to the water boil and watching the flurries of snow outside through the frosted window.

The shrill sound of the alarm you set on your phone cut through the room and shattered the peace you and Gyutaro had settled into. A sigh left your mouth, reaching a hand out to tap your phone and silence the ringing. You stretched out your arms and legs, tensing a bit from the stiffness in your muscles after laying still for so long.

“Alright.. that’s my cue to get the noodles. I’ll heat up some pasta sauce too.”

You murmured out to Gyutaro whilst you stood up from your seat. Your feet hit against the cold floor, shifting on your heel to turn back to your lover. The blanket you two were previously snuggled up under was slipping off him a bit. Carefully, you outstretched a hand to grab the soft fabric and tugged it back over his thin frame.

“Wait— is there any way I can help? I don’t want you to have to do everything…”

He quickly spoke up while shifting in his spot, sitting up a bit and gazing back at you with a slightly guilty expression. His cracked lips curved down into a small pout, brows furrowed. It seemed that no matter how many times you emphasized that you wanted to do this for him he still pushed.

“No Gyu, it’s fine. Let me do this for you, it’s the least I could do.”

Your reassurances did little to ease the nerves swirling through your lover's head. Gyutaro had spent this whole time trying to pull his mind away from guilt and anxiety but he couldn’t bring himself to. Because god, he felt bad.

“But, I just.. I don’t feel like I’m doing enough for you… It’s such an important day and I haven’t done anything.. and you’re doing so much for me…”

And there it was. All of it came right out into the open again.

It was almost a constant for Gyutaro to eventually crack and express his worry that he’s not doing enough for you. The boy does everything in his power to do the most anyone in his position could. He had flaws, but he was honestly the best person you’ve ever dated. To see him so often concerned that he wasn’t fulfilling your needs because he wasn’t doing them in conventionally normal ways made your heart ache.

His hands tensed and clenched up into fits under the blanket you placed atop of him. He felt even more guilty for bringing it up. He should have just remained quiet instead of ruining the precious time you were offering to spend with him. He felt lost in his thoughts until the warmth of your palm pressed against his cheek. The tender gesture instantly snapped him out of the spiraling thoughts that kept his brain in overdrive.

“Gyutaro… you do so much for me, and you do it every single day.”

Your fingers were so delicate against him, as if he were some fragile dainty thing. He knew he wasn’t. He knew he was ugly, vile, imperfect. But every time your voice rang through his head he swore he felt as if he were the most normal man alive. A small part of his brain still felt pathetic for allowing such effortless words to turn him weak so quickly.

“And I know that because it’s some sort of holiday it seems like actions specific to this time period are more.. important. But, it really is just a way for us to celebrate all that we have. I don’t need you to bring me something grand, I just need you. To be here, to spend the night with me.”

Your thumb carefully ran across his skin, tracing patterns over the birthmark that ran over his face.

“If you really want to help me set up dinner plates, I won’t stop you. I just don’t want you to feel like you have too because you want to fill some quota..”

Gyutaro didn’t usually allow himself to show much emotions around people… you were an exception to the rule, though. He knew if he couldn’t properly communicate with you nothing would work out, so he always did his best to push himself and actually speak his mind. It was always the responses you gave him that served to chip away at that fear to open up. And just like every other time your response to his concerns helped ease the whirling thoughts in his head.

“Thank you, (Y/N)…”

Gyutaro hesitated a moment before making the decision to stand up from his seat. The fuzzy blanket slipped off of him and bunched back up against the couch. He wasn’t going to try and do everything for you, but.. he wanted to at least help set up dinner.

“I’ll warm up the sauce, so don’t worry about that. You just focus on getting the pasta you were so excited about.”

He was unable to hold back a huff of laughter remembering how enthusiastic you were about having your pasta shaped like hearts. You claimed it was ‘perfect for valentines dinner’ and you made sure to keep good on that promise. Even though pasta being shaped in silly ways was such a childish thing to get thrilled over you didn’t care. It brought you a semblance of joy, and Gyutaro was more than willing to eat heart shaped noodles for dinner if it would make you smile.

[phantomdialogue]

˗ˏˋ. ݁₊ ✶ ˖ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐥𝐲𝐧𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝟔/𝟓 ☆ . ݁ ˖ˎˊ˗

sequel to better than the movies

in honor of its official release today, here is my review of what may be my favorite book of the year that i had the honor of reading an arc of in august. THERE WILL BE MINOR SPOILERS BELOW THIS TIME!

premise: wes bennett’s life fell apart 2 years ago when tragedy struck his family and lost him his relationship with his favorite girl in the world. now he’s picked up the pieces of that shattered life and wants her back. liz buxbaum has had 2 years since their breakup to swear off love as a whole, going from the rom com queen to the cynic. but wes has a plan to make her believe in love —their love— again.

couple: wes bennett and liz buxbaum

tropes: second chance romance, college setting, fake dating

beware there are heavy themes of grief in this book but nothing too explicit

review below!

review:

first, anyone who says that BTTM didn't/doesn't need a sequel... please just read this book. it really is worth every second. lynn painter, my soul belongs to you. i went into this book thinking that better than the movies had become my least favorite of her books and not expecting much, but OH. MY. GOD. this topped betting on you for me somehow when i was so sure nothing would top that.

liz wasn't my favorite character in BTTM, but this book immediately redeemed her for me. the theme of grief in this book is just perfection to me. i can really relate to wes so much throughout this book and getting to read his POV really just made this book so much better (i clearly love lynn's dual POV books the best). watching wes get to lean into the romcom aspects was so fun and really did make me melt.

some specific moments that i jotted down while reading were: "oh my god, she mentioned in between by gracie abrams... she's heard us", "CHARLIE AND BAILEY CAMEO CHARLIE AND BAILEY CAMEO CHARLIE AND BAILEY CAMEO" (can you tell i got excited? lynn making charlie and wes cousins was the best decision ever made), and "he knows the exact number of days... 720 days... oh my god"

in the end, by the ultimate shocking turn of events, this is my new favorite lynn painter book i've read, and it's topped betting on you, which i never thought possible. i liked this WAY more than BTTM and i did spend a good 15 minutes crying after finishing it.

q & a:

are they endgame? - i'm going to be honest. if you asked me if liz and wes were endgame after BTTM, i would have told you no. i would have said that they both needed to mature and maybe they could have come back together later in life because their relationship was just a bit... juvenile? i felt like, as cute as they were, they couldn't have lasted through the hard stuff in the long run (and apparently, i was right). BUT NOW. now they are endgame. wes and liz needed the time apart, and they needed the space to learn more about themselves, who they were outside of high school/the little bubble they lived in.

did i cringe? - i don't think there was anything that stood out to me in terms of cringey moments. i think that lynn does a really great job of writing for a mainly gen z audience without making the language she uses cringey.

favorite part? - i don't know if i could choose... there is so much about this book that i think about constantly even nearly two months after finishing it. the first thing that stands out to me, that i also feel like has been really misunderstood by other readers, is how lynn handles wes' grief. grief has a way of absolutely decimating your life at any age but at 18/19, it really is truly life-wrecking. i think she really was able to lean into it and handle it gracefully as she showed the issues that wes still has two years later and, at the same time, show the damage it did so extensively and understandably. while other people say that what wes did/what happened was completely out of character, i think they fail to understand that you're not yourself when you are dealing with that level of grief and for me, it made me feel extremely seen as someone who went through something similar at the same age. as well, the ending, the epilogue, made me sob profusely. it may be one of my favorite endings i've read in a book recently. the way it pushes away from the action to give us one last goodbye to these characters and where we met them made me incredibly emotional.

least favorite part? - this really is so much harder to pick than favorite part because i'm not sure i could pick something i didn't like. i think both wes and liz were extremely validated in this book and the interactions between them were so realistic especially toward the end with the push and pull of a "will they won't they" moment because when you're in that position, it really is so hard to make a definite decision on it. if i really had to pick, i'd say that maybe the extra roommates of liz just because i felt like they didn't really add a ton to the story. but i did still enjoy their presence at times.

favorite quotes (some spoilers here, of course, but minimal/out of context):

Regarding Lizzie, I had all the intentions in the world.

We were in the past, and he was simply someone I used to know.

"Okay, so tell me your three favorite things about UCLA so far." Liz Buxbaum, Liz Buxbaum, and Liz Buxbaum.

"I don't want to discuss this with anyone, ever, but if I have to, I'd choose you over anyone else."

Now we're just two people who used to know each other.

His gaze was more than familiar. His gaze was home.

It'd been better than the movies, I swear to God.

You don't was the answer. You don't get over her.

But not before taking a moment to pull into The Spot one final time.

"The dude looks at you like he knows he's going blind in an hour and he's trying to memorize every detail of your face."

There really was a fine line between love and hate, and Libby's rage fueled me to burn that line to the ground.

Eventually, we'd find our way back to each other again. I'd been certain of it. Silly little love lover.

I'd never be sure if she was my type--had I always had a fondness for redheads with green eyes?--or if she'd created my type. She was the prototype.

"Because you shouldn't have to mentally split a person in two in order to love them."

"I am just Wes fucking Bennett, Lib, the guy who can't remember a single day in his life when he didn't love you."

"Because our good moments were the crumbs that fed me for seven hundred and twenty 12:13s when I was alone."

It's like I breathe for you, like I exist to exist alongside of you.

"It wasn't you, I don't think, or me. I think it was just life that made us cry."

[bendersmind]

From '69 to Release (Giggity)

Is "giggity" still funny? Did I mention I'm fucking ancient? Because I am. I saw the premiers of South Park AND Family Guy my dudes. That's how old.

Speaking of cartoons, I've been watching "Scooby Doo, Where Are You?" for the past 2 days. You should too. It's on Tubi, my favorite source for both garbage films and weird cult shit that only I (and a small amount of freaks) watch. It's great. This has NOTHING to do with my Ghost post, I just thought you should know.

Well, not nothing. The relationship is that Scooby Doo premiered the night of the Ghost show where Nihil fucked everything up. Behind the cut you'll find some potential spoilers for "Sister Imperator #2" based on the released preview pages. If you don't want to read it come back to this post after it's released. It releases on April 16th and will make the following post ENTIERLY meaningless and wrong. So let me waste a bit of your time . . . under the cut.

Alright, so information from the preview is kinda iffy. The biggest thing, which isn't probably related to the plot of the issue itself (something about some suspicious dude following the circus Imperator is in) but it's important for lore purposes.

There are a few things we learn.

A man we presume is Nihil has been touring away from the main circus on and off for 2 years.

At this point in the story, Imperator has been with said circus for those 2 years.

The man we assume is Nihil has at least 1 brother.

Said brother has a bunch of kids already

Okay. So lets look at number 3 and 4 as being the "point" of this post. 1 and 2 set up Imperator and (probably) Nihil's relationship.

Nihil tells us that his brother has several "pups" when Imperator accuses Nihil of leaving a bunch of French maidens sad after he left. The implication is 2 fold, Nihil's brother is a ho (and I say that with love; nothing wrong with being a ho) and he doesn't wrap it before he taps it.

The last frame of our preview shows us a dinner table with circus folk and 3 women each with young children. 2 with babies and 1 with a toddler. This occurs sometime between '53 (the start of Imperator #1) and '69. It's not super clear how old Imperator is when the comic starts but she is probably 10-13. She leaves home after her stepfather murders her sisters and presumably when she was a teenager. It's hard to say when, but I'd say 15/16ish. This means she's somewhere around 20 when Nihil comes back from France. Per my timeline this would be around '60. Nihil would be around 20 then as well(based on his death being in 2020 at 80). Let's assume that they are close in age(and Imperator aged gracefully, Nihil . . . not so much).

The toddler looked to be around 3ish (I legit know shit all about kids so please correct me if I'm wrong) and is potentially Papa I (or maybe my favorite pre canon theory, Mystery Papa); the babies are likely Papa II and III. I'd like to correct my already partially incorrect post from a while back; Papa I, II, and III are confirmed to be brothers; and based on the current information we have, Nihil is probably their uncle. It'd make more sense as to why he was cool with just murdering them.

Sister Imperator #2 will probably give us more of an idea of the family structure for the Emeritus bloodline and exactly how many brothers Nihil has. Based on what I'm thinking both Nihil's father and Nihil's older brother are dead by '69. This would open the line for the next oldest son (or daughter; we actually don't know anything about female descendants in the church). That would be Nihil.

When Nihil's bid for fame failed miserably after the show at Whiskey A Go-Go he was clearly replaced. By who? Probably the next in his father's line. And so on up until the last son of his father and then on to the oldest son of the oldest brother of the last generation of Papas.

Lord in hell that's a clusterfuck of a sentence. Basically, it'd go to Nihil's older brother's oldest son. This could be either Papa I or Mystery Papa (2008 - 2011). We just don't know yet.

I think the most interesting part of this whole thing is the "old world circus" that the church comes from. The biggest question for me is where does the circus "end" and the church "begin". That is to say, how do you go from circus performer to clergy? Is everyone in the troupe an agent of Satan? Or were the Emeritus line stashed into traveling shows to hide them from potential assassins?

That would actually give us an explanation as to why Copia and Perpetua were split up and raised apart. The current theory is that Mrs. Psalterian is Marika from the comic and thus the person who raised Copia. But where was Perpetua? Someone suggested with all of his Venice carnival schtick he was raised somewhere near Venice. I think that's a fair assessment. While the Ministry is (in canon) located in Linköping, Sweden, Italy is REALTIVELY close. Also Europe has the fucking trains that get you goddamn anywhere so it isn't even like living on different coasts of the US. (Fucking Europe and your . . . excellence)

Anyway, the raising of the twins is neither here nor there; until we get some more about Perpetua we'll be lost in the surf. I really look forward to seeing how he works with the crowd. Whatever we get it will certainly be interesting.

Points of interest: What is the structure of the Clergy exactly? Why has Marika always called Copia "Cardi"? Was his name when he walked into the story we are seeing "Cardinal Cardinal Copia"? Is the circus "Cooger and Dark’s Pandemonium Shadow Show" from "Something Wicked This Way Comes"? Does Nihil already know the nature of his family? Has the church always been hidden in a traveling circus or was it in other itinerant entertainer groups(bards, theater, fakirs, etc)? Was there a magician Papa? Please tell me there are puppets! I fucking love puppets.

[amatowriting]

Liam, I don't know if you can read this anywhere you are now but although you didn't become a firefighter itself since the artistic career worked out, you did save lives like you desired.

It's the first time I will say it out loud but I met you when I was five years old locked in the bathroom, contemplating at such a young age about taking my life away because of all the abuse and bullying I was going through. I was scrolling through YouTube and I saw a video clip of What Makes You Beautiful by a band called One Direction and I decided to watch. IT BECAME THE BEST DECISION IN MY LIFE. As I grew up, I discovered your own story of growing up with bullying and Louis' daddy issues extremely similar to my story of life and then everyone person in my life that ever said to me I wouldn't be anyone and that I should kill myself didn't matter anymore...because if the two of you made it and became who you are now, WHY COULDN'T ME? That was the day I realized life was worth living thanks to all of you but more specifically thanks to you and Lou. YOU SAVED MY LIFE AND STILL DO AND FOR THAT I WILL ALWAYS BE GRATEFUL ALTHOUGH I NEVER HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO SAY IT TO YOUR FACE, PAYNO.

You carried us through the waters and fires just for our love, you found a way through the dark to us but we weren't able to save you any night, instead you went down in the flames and drowned in the waves.

We all wanted this last couple of day that your tragic premature passing was only an illusion, a twisted collective nightmare.

We are half a heart without you because everything about you is magic, all your little things.

You made us strong with your beautiful smile and fighter background, you have been fighting since you were born…you taught us good, we will keep your legacy.

We could never hate you or forget you; after all, how can you hate or forget someone who gave us so much to remember?

Together with the lads, you taught a whole generation about self-esteem and how to love and be loved by someone else…that’s why we have high standards for love, I suppose!

You were and still are the soundtrack with the best songs ever to the story of our life.

I'm the last one to say it - speaking in first person now because I'm as suck as you all together when it comes to dancing, I'm all clumsy - but even though you five were terrible dancers, you created two of the most iconic dance movements in Best Song Ever and Live While We Are Young - whoever in this fandom admits they never did their choreography neither knows the two of them by heart, is lying.

We weren't ready for you to be the first one to say goodbye so soon and create this space between us, twisting the knife in our breaking hearts.

We thought we would have more time…if only we had asked you to stay - we would have found the words to say, would you have changed your ticket home and changed your mind to not have left us that day?

We could have started all over again…maybe that wasn't meant to be indeed.

Maybe the gods above can separate the two of us…physically speaking.

You belong in our hearts and we better think you never forget it.

We are sad and, until we die, our hearts will forever miss a piece but we are going to be alright, eventually.

After all, you will be by our side anytime we need you, we just have to close your eyes and see.

You made us feel alive and never forget where we belonged so we will move on with our lives for the two of us.

Until the day we finally rest in peace too and you receive us with open hearts and arms for your tight hug and your unique genuine bright smile and charisma that enchanted our hearts for the last fourteen years.

Goodbyes are bittersweet but it's not the end, we will see your face again.

We can see that you are in peace as you are walking in the wind gracefully.

Our history is not over as long as we continue celebrating your wonderful life and heartwarming songs on and on! We live forever!

Protect us from above like you always have done, our musician firefighter, and we will protect your loved ones forever down here, from the world’s cruelty making sure they feel the love we and you have for them and what you truly meant from us instead of those sick sensationalism media that is dirtying you.

We are the greatest team the world has ever seen!

Thanks for all the memories, Payno, we love you!

[rawmeknockout]

Your possessive Dadatron got into my brain with the cyberformed liason. While poor obsessed Rodimus is not being left alone with the Liason he's also one of the handful of bots outside of the medics that consistently remember the Liason was a wholeaft adult human and treat them as such, along with Rung, Swerve, Perceptor and Whirl.

This also leads to Megs and Mags being shocked when the Liason just matter-of-factly tells Rodimus, "I'm not opposed to the idea of a potential date in the future, but right now I don't have enough coordination in this body to try Meteor surfing. Worse the medics said Interfacing is out untill I have some concious control of my transformation sequence preferably after I've scanned an altmode."

Just two old Mechs clutching their pearls stunned In Horror while Rodimus is blithly is going on with the conversation.

"Wait you haven't scanned an alt yet?! I thought you'd checked all the potentials on the Lost Light?"Rodimus looked shocked.

"I did but nothing clicked or activated the sequence." The Liason shrugged helplessly. "It's not like this frame had one preloaded."

"Huh you should have told me. Next time we get off on a planet you should come with me and Drift and Ratchet. See if any of the wildlife triggers-"

"I forbid it! Ultra Magnus choked out. The other three mechs turned to look at him.

"Ultra Magnus," Megatron sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please don't discourag Rodimus when he makes sensible seguestions."

"I, no." The Duely Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accords gathered his wits. "No Rodimus' seguestion regarding his alt mode acquisition was not the issue. The conversation with regarding Interfacing however-" The Liason cut him off voice flat with uncharacteristic frustration.

"I do not have the spoons to say this gracefully or diplomatically right now so I'm going to be blunt. I am an adult human, note the term adult, in the frame of cybertronian newbuild. I'm currently experiencing frame dysphoria and body dismorphia. And you can add gender disphoria because i have a gender and if this frame I'm in lined up with it I would be a femme!"

"I'm aware of what interfacing is. In the before times," the Liason gestured curtly at their frame, "I had quite a few lively slightly tipsy afterwork discussions at Swerve's compairing and contrasting human and cybertronian sexulity, sensuality, and romanticism. Which Rodimus took part in. Spark play, Plug and Play and feild play arent options for humans but Valve Plug is" Ultra Magnus' engine choked in shock. Megatron took a reflexive back in extreme discomfort.

"I dont think I need to hear about that!" Megatron cut her off hastily. It was a mark of his discomfort and Ultra Magnus's distraction they both missed Rodimus pulling a packet of Cesium Crisps out of his subspace.

"No Mechs, these are exactly some of the sorts of conversations that need to happen with anybot who steps up to Parent me if this is permanent. Be my Mentor," she added to clarify the twin looks of confusion. "I am a middle-aged parent of grown children with an ex-husband who remains a dear friend now that he's out of the closet. I know the two of you are both trying to parent me. God and Primus both forefend my body dies of old age before Brainstorm and Perceptod can fix me because the number of Mecha on this ship who are psychologically capable dealing with the complexities of mentoring a newbuild that is simultaneously a sentient organic who is of analagous to their devlopmental age are profoundly limited."

"How about Rang," Rodimus seguested just a bit too cheerfully around a mouthful of snacks.

"Rung, unfortunately, as my therapist has a professional conflict of interest. And since you guys have, between all your factions, a grand total of two therapists left alive it's not like switching providers-"

"Oh! Liason! There you are!" First Aid called out, cheerfully oblivious conversation he was saving Megatron and Ultra Magnus from. "Ratchet just commed me, he's looking for you. He's freed up his schedule to chaparone err moniter Brainstorm and Perceptor while they run some tests on you. Well mostly Brainstorm needs the monitering. If you could come down to the lab?"

"Oh best not keep them waiting then," Rodimus put in quickly husteling First Aid and the Liason off down the hall. "I'll walk with you, Mags and Megs have to go on shift on the Bridge."

Well this ended up longer than I expected. The characters that live in my brain just started talking and went for it.

How do you reckon Protective UM and Possessive Megatron are taking this conversation? Or this type given that Liason suddenly went from generic insert to proto-OC with a backstory while I was typing. I cant be the only one on here who's had a character grab the plot ball and run away with it for a bit.

Megatron is fine with them having a life before even tho it’s not preferred but they’re a MECH now and he knows better (this is a lie) than anyone what type of mentoring you need he’s completely ignoring this conversation bc that was your life as a human, this is your life now

Magnus is conflicted but ultimately he still keeps other mechs away. you may have some knowledge of Cybertronian sexuality, but it’s not just the interfacing that’s the problem. All the mechs on the lost light are fucked up and aren’t just looking for vanilla sex.

[glitterguts13]

SO... I had an idea at random while just doing my normal routine, and the old man fucker in me smiled in glee. The folks of the Astral Express lavishing plenty of attention and love on a pregnant Welt as they all worship his pregnant body, cooing over just how sexy he is as his body changes to accommodate his pregnancy, fucking him gently and making him feel like the sexy old man he is.

Welt just ends up a mess once everyone is done with him, but just lets everyone cuddle him as they continue to worship him as they should. >3c

*insert that meme of the guy slamming his credit card down* I'LL TAKE 20 ORDERS OF THIS!! ploy Astral Express...Plus Sunday because I guess he's there now (I know this was sent in before that patch, but hear me out on the Sunday x Welt-) TW: very, very brief mention of abortion

It had started out normal enough. The announcement had taken everyone by surprise, and Welt would be lying if he said that this moment hadn't been on of his most shameful. A man, of his age no less, announcing a pregnancy? What had he been thinking-

He expected a few sympathetic smiles, a rational discussion about how abortion would be the best option, after all, they weren't exactly a normal 'family' and he wasn't even sure who the other parent actually was-

But no, Caelus all but jumped into his arms, with March on his heels and Himeko right behind. Pulling him into a suffocating hug, shouting their joy and squealing with delight. Dan Heng stood back a bit, but even the stoic young man had a pleased, contented smile on his face.

All thoughts about a possible abortion had been thrown to the wind. Everyone was so happy, so excited about the prospect of a little one running around the express- No, he could never take that from them, and honestly, he had never wanted anything more than this, a family.

The first trimester hadn't particularly changed much. Himeko brought him herbal teas to keep his stomach settled, and on the occasions, he did find himself bent over the toilet, someone was right behind him, rubbing his back and passing him a bottle of water.

PomPom had taken over in the kitchen, chasing March and Caelus out, committing to providing only the most delicious and nutritious meals for their newest, growing member. "Guardian PomPom" they started to call the conductor.

It wasn't until around the fourth month, Welt noticed the shift.

One morning he was fussing in the mirror, annoyed that his pants were refusing to button all the way, when he'd caught Himeko watching. At first, he hadn't paid her much mind, but when Dan Heng had joined her, sharp eyes trained on him with all the intensity of a hungry beast, Welt finally relented.

"What seems to be the issue?"

Himeko glides closer, lips twitching into a playful smile as one hand gracefully fell over the every so slight bump forming under his navel.

"You're starting to show."

Logically he knew, understood, and was perfectly at peace with the change, but the moment the words left her delicate, pink lips, Welt felt his heart rate skyrocket.

Dang Heng slides up behind him next, pressing a hand under Himeko's.

The young man doesn't say a word, but the glint in his eye was dangerous, hungry.

~~~

Sunday had joined them around seven months into Welt's pregnancy. There was something about the Halovian that kept his interest. The way he kept lingering in the same parlor car as Welt, always standing a bit closer than he needed too, eyes clinging a few seconds too long.

It lacked the hunger Dan Heng showed, or the raw adoration March and Himeko displayed, but there was something.

"You can ask me anything you like." Welt finally broke the silence. It was driving him a bit mad, the way Sunday was hovering just out of view, but still near enough that he could feel his presence.

The Halovian starts, spluttering out an apology before going quiet once more.

"Go on," Welt presses, putting his book aside, "I know something is on your mind."

The wings close to his face flutter, one coming to hide his face partially.

Shy.

A stark contrast to the self-assured egomaniac Welt had known him to be.

"I do not want to be...rude."

"I think we've long past 'rude', Sunday." just that little issue of nearly being killed is all.

Sunday clears his throat, eyes darting around to make sure no one else was in the parlor car to hear him before speaking, just above a whisper,

"What...does it feel like?"

Raising an eyebrow, Welt tilts his head.

"What does, what feel like?"

Chewing his lip nervously, Sunday makes a small gesture at Welt.

"Ah...you mean pregnancy?" the wings close to his face flap a bit too hard, nearly slapping the young man in the mouth.

"Are you not familiar with it?"

"Halovian's reproduce via eggs, not live birth. It isn't something me and Robin were ever...it wasn't important, so we were not given proper education on how... humans carry young." he trips over every word, rambling too fast, cheeks burning hot as he failed to form a single cohesive thought.

"Sunday, come here." Welt pats the spot on the sofa next to him, and Sunday goes to sit, swift and robotic in his movements.

Without warning, Welt takes the young man's hand and presses it against the heavy swell of his middle. Sunday goes stiff, eyes wide, a startled gasp leaving his lips.

"That's-"

"The baby."

"Y-you can feel it? So clearly?" there's a mixture of fascination and raw repulsion written on his face, but he never attempted to remove his hand from Welt's grip.

"Yes. It will get stronger over the next few weeks as well."

Sunday's face was glowing brighter than the sun, one leg suspiciously lifting up and crossing over the other in a hurry.

~~~

"Shit-" Dan Heng's voice grew high and tight, powerful fingers gripping Welt's thighs as he rutted his hips. Thick cock pumping in and out of Welt in hurried, needed thrusts, cum and lube squelching obscenely.

"Easy sweet one." Himeko brushed the hair from Welt's glazed-over eyes, two fingers in his mouth, allowing him to lazily suck the digits as Dan Heng rutted away, "You're taking him so well...are you feeling full?" she teases, brushing her thumb against his jaw.

Welt mumbles something around her fingers, groaning when she pulls them free.

"What was that?"

"I can...take more." swallowing thickly, Welt rests a hand on his belly.

"Greedy boy," Himeko smiles, "So full, stuffed with child and seed. Yet...you still want more." her eyes glance across the room. Caelus was tapped out, half asleep next to an already worn out March. Her strap was still half on, sleep doing its best to drag her under while Caelus ran his fingers through her hair.

Dan Heng had the most stamina out of all of them, that centuries-old dragon-fueled instinct driving him mad with possessive need. Even so, after four rounds he was starting to waver, cumming dry and still forcing himself to fuck Welt's sloshing, loose hole.

"Sunday?" Himeko's voice was light, sing-song, almost bird-like as she called the Halovian's name. He jolted, face red, cock straining so hard against his trousers a wet spot had formed in the front.

"Why don't you go next?" delight, horror, need, fear, lust- every emotion Sunday tried so damn hard to repress flashed across his face in one momentary burst.

"I've never-"

"There's always a first for everything," she laughs, "But only if you want."

For a second, Welt half expects Sunday to flee the room, but he's stripping from his clothing as Dan Heng came one final time, crying out in irritation and pain as his cock twitched and jumped but failed to produce anything.

"Darling, take a rest," Himeko orders gently, "You can't breed him any more than he already is now."

Dan Heng growls, his brain more dragon and human at the moment. Though, even in such a state, he recognizes Himeko as their leader, and reluctantly remove himself from Welt.

Shifting to crawl beside of the other two, spent crew members, Dan Heng's eyes don't leave Sunday as he steps closer.

"You can be rough with him," she smiles, "He enjoys it. Just be sure to tell him what a good job he's doing, alright?" she slips her fingers back inside of Welt's mouth, giggling as he moans around her.

A steady stream of cum was leaking from Welt, the sheer filthiness of it all should have been enough to drive Sunday away in disgust. Instead, he finds his cock twitching, a heat burning in his gut as a nagging voice in the back of his brain whispers, 'sinner.'

Before he can rationalize the situation, Sunday finds himself buried balls deep inside of the pregnant man. His trembling hands are all over Welt's heavy, round belly, hips stuttering with inexperience and excitement.

"Doesn't he look beautiful?" Caelus hums, eyes half closed as Dan Hang stroked his cock.

"Yes-" Sunday's voice cracks, "Very...I don't think I've ever seen something-someone, so...perfect." he gently presses his hands to the taunt skin, a sharp pain of undiluted pleasure shooting through his guts as he feels the child roll and kick under his palms.

"So full of life...ripe with the fruit of your love-" March snorts and Caelus rolls his eyes,

"We gotta work on your dirty talk."

Too lost in pleasure to even glare, Sunday babbles on,

"I can't...so...perfect. I wish I'd been here sooner- seen more-"

"You'll be there front and center for the next one~" Himeko grins and Welt languishes a heavy moan, his cock twitching.

In the future, Sunday would deny his actions to the grave, but in the moment, without a single thought inside his head, he leans down. Running his tongue in a stripe over Welt's quivering belly, teeth sinking into the tender bud of his navel.

Welt shouts around Himeko's fingers, cum spilling from his cock in thick ropes, his back arching off the bed as his eyes rolled back, stars filling his vision.

"My, my~ You made him cum~ That isn't easy to do~" Himeko hums, pressing a tender kiss to Welt's forehead.

"Hopefully," Caelus sighs, rolling his shoulder, "The next time it's twins."

[purple-nightfall-writes]

👀 I humbly request snippets

hello friend :3 you receive an excerpt of the first chapter of "smoke in the night," which i am going to be working on for ages haha

i'm absolutely vibrating with anticipation of when i get to start sharing this fic with the world - i'm really really proud of the concept and SO excited to make it into a thing that exists. however it is also going to take a while to be ready to start posting 😓 such is the way of things

but in any case, i'm excited to go ahead and start teasing it a little! gotta start building hype hehe

Parry.  Ascend.  Fireball.  Drop.

Scar watched as the young ghast hybrid fought, weaving between the arena constructs’ projectiles with impressive ease.  They were talented, that much was certain; they had quick reflexes, and their fireballs rarely missed.

Not that it made a difference to Scar.  He was only here for show, really.

His managers understood that by now.  Scar had dug his heels in for long enough that they’d eventually stopped bothering him about the sidekick issue.  And, as the unofficial face of the Hybrids and Heroes Headquarters - or 3H, as most people called it - Scar had some leeway to be stubborn in this case.

Being HotGuy did have its benefits on occasion.

“Time!” a voice called out over the loudspeaker, and Scar focused back on the arena just in time to see the construct power down.  The ghast hybrid stood, bruised but not defeated, an elated grin on their face.

As the evaluators asked a few more questions, Scar didn’t even bother trying to catch his manager’s eye to give the perfunctory shake of his head.  They dropped even that pretense more often than not these days.  Some other hero at 3H could take the ghast teen under their wing.  They’d make an excellent sidekick, Scar was sure, but HotGuy worked alone.

“Next!”

He glanced up briefly as a young man - probably in his twenties - stalked into the arena.  An avian, with the tan patterned wings of a hawk, a slight figure, and an untidy mop of sandy-brown hair.

“Name?”

“Is that necessary?” the avian asked sharply, his scowl visible from Scar’s seat up high in the bleachers.

“...no.  Proceed.”

Afterwards, Scar could never quite pinpoint what it was that made him sit up and pay attention.  It might have been that first refusal, startling in its audacity; it might have been something about the way every line of the young man’s figure was drawn taut like a bowstring, a do-or-die intensity to the concentration in his face.  It might have been the way he fought.

The arena whirred to life, and the young man became a whirlwind.  He dashed from point to point, a knife in each hand, slashing out at the constructs as he passed.  For the most part, he stayed within melee range, occasionally taking to the air with a small pistol in one hand.  He was lithe, and agile, and he fought furiously as though his life depended on it.

That was probably what surprised Scar so much.  It was well-known that 3H would help anyone, regardless of skill.  You didn’t need to apply to be a hero to be eligible for their aid.  The people who did apply were ambitious, eager, seizing at a chance for fame or for purpose.

But whenever Scar caught a glimpse of the avian’s face, there was a stark urgency about the set of his jaw; some grim determination showing in the ruthless efficiency of his movements.  To him, this was no game.

Scar was intrigued.  For the first time in ages, he leaned forward and watched the fight with interest.

By the time it was over, he knew one thing for certain.  He would never rest easy until he’d figured the avian out.  Until he’d learned what was behind those stern black eyes; where the man had learned to move so gracefully; what drove him to fight like the goddamn Application Trial was the most important thing he’d ever do.

“That one,” Scar found himself saying to his manager the moment time was called.  “I want that one.”