#under read more for my Hot Takes™️

[no-naem]

What are your thoughts on what the relationship ( platonic or romantic ) between Karma and Kayano/Akari could be?

I think Karma and Kayano work better in a platonic relationship (platonic soulmates if you will) and while I don't see them in a romantic relationship, I think it'd be funny interesting if they were. They seem like they have the potential to be besties like they are with Nagisa and yet we barely get any official content with them...

Since Kayano and Karma interacted around 7 times in the manga (14 if you count every time they talked to each other in the Valentine's Day chapters) their relationship is so...nonexistent. Yet they're kinda similar (at least with Akari and Karma)??? They're both very stubborn, tends to go overboard, and they can become so fiery when it comes to their goals. So they're usually calm but they're like a volcano that's ready to burst. Full of chaotic and feral energy and they're very dangerous LOL. Like, their first (real) assassination attempt were so, so violent and they were willing to off themselves (applies to Nagisa too ofc...wow, what a trio). They're insane.

Also they both seem like the type to like arson. I mean, Kayano already did commit arson. So...

Anyways, I can see their relationship starting off as "ah, you're Nagisa's friend so I guess we're hanging out in this group" until maybe the Kyoto arc and they kind of get to know each other a little more? The group did spend a while together, and I can imagine they talk about the sweets in Kyoto. Then it's back to the class, and they know a little more about each other every day when they both hang out with Nagisa and the others. I think they get along as Kayano and Karma, and Karma probably used to view Kayano as a harmless person. But then, Akari reveals herself and there's some betrayal there. And Karma really gets to know who she is. Maybe Karma still doesn't trust her even after the reveal is over, but learns to trust her again once he realizes that Kayano's just a part of Akari, and opens up to her more after Karma's issues with Nagisa is over and then they can truly be friends.

Plus there's the Valentine's Day arc. The only time Karma and Kayano interact FREQUENTLY and it has to do with Nagisa. Based on their interactions, it seems like they're pretty much okay with each other??? Kayano even accepts his and Nakamura's help so I assume they're all chill at this point. And also...Kayano gave KARMA, of all people, a picture of Aguri in a bikini for the Korosensei bait, and even trusted him enough to have it in his possession??? I know it was all for a humorous moment but still, that just gives me the feeling that they're good friends at this point. I remember thinking about that entire Valentine's Day interaction with Karma and Nakamura, wondering when Kayano got so close to them.

SO YEAH. 👏ඞ In conclusion, Karma and Kayano have the potential to be besties that are completely chill with each other and work well together.

[alwaysmicado]

You wanted this

3.1k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 1

When he gives you this look, you know you're fucked - literally.

Warnings: no outbreak au, implied age gap, alcohol, smut: piv sex, rough oral m and f receiving, rimming, choking, D/s dynamic, creampie, pet names, degradation/praise Summary: Joel and you have a fun dynamic going. You provoke him, he punishes you - you both get off. When you meet him after you’ve fucked someone else, he decides to show you who you belong to. It’s all fun and games, right? A/N: Please read the warnings before you continue! You're about to read unadulterated filth. We're headed straight for Whoreville™️ and there's no getting off early (wink wink). We'll see more of these two for sure... Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 🖤 pt. 2 / series masterlist / AO3

“You look hot,” you purr into Joel’s ear. “Expecting someone special?”

He chuckles and turns to look at you with a smirk. “I actually was. But she was too busy flirting with some random guy over there, so now I’m just entertaining myself with a drink.”

He taps the glass and studies your face. You look especially stunning tonight, your skin is glowing and your smile is illuminating the dimly lit bar.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it flirting,” you coo, playing with the straw of your cocktail. Joel raises an eyebrow in amusement.

“Is that right? What else would you call it, darlin’?”

“Trying to explain to him why I left him alone in bed a few days ago and never returned his calls,” you answer while maintaining eye contact.

“Hmm, and why did you?” Joel asks, taking another sip of his drink.

You scoff and shake your head. “None of your business, Miller.” He gives you a knowing smile and nods. 

“It’s a shame though.” His deep, sultry voice makes you shiver. “I know how nice it is to wake up next to you.” He puts his hand on your knee, causing your skin to heat up and a familiar ache to grow between your legs. 

“You’ve only ever done it once because I was too drunk to go home, so how would you know, hm?” you purr, leaning in to be closer to him.

“So feisty today.” He starts caressing your thigh gently, brushing the hem of your mini dress. “I’m assuming you’re frustrated because you haven’t been fucked right?”

You chuckle and down the rest of your drink. “I dunno, Joel. What would you call not being able to walk for the past three days because he fucked me for hours on end? I’m sure you could still see bite marks on my thighs if you looked closely.” You smirk and open your legs for him to see you’re not wearing any panties. 

Joel’s grip on your thigh tightens, his eyes completely black now. “You wanna act like a whore, baby?” he growls and grips your hip with his other hand. “You know I got no problem treating you like one.”

He starts kissing your neck with his warm wet lips, mumbling into your skin how he’s going to enjoy putting you in your place. Your legs are trembling and you’re moaning softly into his ear. 

He loves seeing you like this - squirming under his touch, pupils blown, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. All because of him.

“Get up,” he orders, “we’re going.”

---

“Last chance, darlin',” Joel growls, “I ain't gonna be gentle, so get the fuck out now if you can't take it.” Oh, now he did it. He's playing you like a fiddle and you both know it.

“Do your worst, old man,” you bite back, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“You’re gonna regret that, sweetheart.” He glowers at you, the darkness in his eyes setting all of your nerves on fire. 

He closes the distance between you two in a few strides and towers over you menacingly. You can feel the heat radiating off his body and smell the irresistible scent that is so uniquely him. The ache between your legs is becoming unbearable. 

Joel leans in, his left hand pulling you close by your waist, his right hand grabbing the back of your neck, forcing you to meet his gaze. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget you ever even met that asshole. You understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you nod, wetness seeping out of your pussy. You fucking love it when he gets like this. 

Joel’s eyes carefully search yours and when he’s satisfied with what he finds, he immediately pulls you close to capture your mouth in a hungry kiss. He’s greedily sucking and biting at your lips, tangling one hand in your hair and squeezing your ass with the other, wanting to devour you - make you his. 

You’re just as eager to give him what he wants, completely pliant under his touch, moaning into his mouth and rubbing yourself on his thigh. 

“Fuck,” Joel pants, breaking the kiss and tracing your swollen bottom lip with his thumb. 

He looks into your glazed over eyes, mesmerized by the fact that such a stunning creature is submitting to him so willingly. He palms himself over his pants, his cock painfully hard and in desperate need of relief.  

“On your knees, baby. Hands on your thighs,” he commands, his gaze never leaving yours while you lower yourself on the floor. “Good girl,” he praises, unzipping his pants and pulling them down together with his boxer briefs just enough to free his heavy cock and balls. 

You gasp at the sight, never really getting used to his sheer size, despite having taken him before. You bite your lip and press your thighs together to relieve at least some of the burning ache in your core.

“God, you’re beautiful when you’re desperate for my cock,” Joel murmurs, tilting your chin up and pressing down on your tongue with his thumb. “My beautiful girl. Now, you’re gonna take what I give you, darlin’. I’m not gonna stop, so don’t even try your whining. The only thing I wanna hear is you gagging on my cock, got it?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good.”

Joel positions himself in front of your mouth and taps your lips with the tip of his cock. “Open up, baby, stick your tongue out.” You do just that and Joel hums approvingly. 

Holding the base with his right hand, he slides his cock into your warm wet mouth in one single thrust until he’s hitting the back of your throat. “Fuuuck, that’s it, baby,” Joel groans. “I’ve missed your perfect mouth so much.” 

You gag and sputter, trying to move your head to relax your throat for a second, but Joel is faster than you, gripping the back of your head with both of his hands, effectively holding you in place. 

“Nuh-uh, princess,” he tuts mockingly, “where do you think you’re going, huh?” Your eyes are watering and you feel like you’re choking, but Joel just smirks at you. “Eyes on me, sweetheart. I want you to look at me while I’m fucking your pretty face.” And with that he sets a punishing pace, bucking his hips into your mouth over and over again. 

You’re gorgeous - on your knees, reduced to a crying, drooling mess over his cock. Joel's clenching his teeth, every muscle in his body strained while forcing you to take his length. 

“You’re doing so well, baby. So perfect for me,” he groans, sending shivers down your spine. Your clit is throbbing and you can feel yourself growing wetter with every second.

When one of Joel’s thrusts hits particularly deep, you instinctively brace your hands against his thighs, trying to push him away. He just laughs at you, tightening his grip on your neck. 

“Poor baby,” he scoffs, “not used to my big cock anymore? Why fuck that loser if he doesn’t even do it right, hm?” Your cheeks are burning and you shove at his legs again. “Keep doing that,” Joel chuckles. “you look so cute when you try to fight me.” 

He thrusts his hips a few more times before pulling out with a strangled groan and releasing your head. “Don’t wanna come yet,” he mumbles. You’re immediately gasping for air, chest heaving, tears still spilling down from your now closed eyes. Joel scoops up the thick string of saliva that connects his cock with your lips and spreads it on your cheeks. His soft touch doesn’t match the filthy action.

He crouches down so he’s on your level and tilts your head up gently. “Hey, look at me,” he scans your face. “You okay?”

Your eyes meet his concerned gaze. “Yeah, yeah. Just needed a second to breathe,” you reassure him.

He looks at you intently for a moment longer before getting up and motioning to the bed. “Take your clothes and shoes off and lie on your back.” 

You get up and pull your dress over your head, take off your heels and sway your hips on your way to Joel’s bed. It smells like him and you hate that you can’t stay and fall asleep here. Pull him close at night, savor his warmth, marvel at his precious sleepy face in the morning. 

As soon as you’re lying in the middle of the bed, your head propped up on Joel’s pillows, he walks towards you. “Spread your pretty legs for me, darlin’. I wanna see how wet you got choking on my cock.” 

You slowly open your legs while keeping eye contact. Joel sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of your puffy and glistening cunt. He unbuttons his shirt hastily, letting it fall to the floor. “Touch your clit, baby,” he pants, unlacing his shoes and keeping his eyes on you. 

You obey and start circling your neglected bundle of nerves with two fingers. A desperate moan escapes your lips as you’re finally able to get some relief. Joel takes off his shoes and pants, staring at you for a second before climbing on the bed and stopping between your legs.  

“Fuck, baby, you’re so beautiful.” He slowly traces your legs with his fingertips, enjoying how you writhe under his touch. When he stops just at the apex of your thighs, you whine desperately, only for him to do it again.

“Please touch me, Joel, please,” you whimper, unable to keep your composure anymore. He sits back on his heels and keeps caressing your thighs while you’re continuously drawing circles on your clit. 

“D’you fuck him raw?” he asks, grabbing your wrist to halt your movement.

You gaze into his dark eyes and shake your head, “No.”

He nods and starts peppering your thighs with kisses, gripping your hips with his calloused hands.

“Good,” he murmurs, nipping and biting at your soft skin, “‘cause I’m not wearing a goddamn condom with you. Gonna pump you so full of my cum you’ll be leaking me until I fill you up again.”

You whimper at the prospect of feeling Joel’s warm cum deep inside you again and try to shift your hips, so he’ll finally touch you where you most need him.

“Mmm, yeah baby, I like the thought of that, too,” he smirks, his face now hovering right above your wet cunt. “But I really wanna taste you first.” He starts by spreading your lips with his hands, opening you up for him to look at you fully exposed.

“Fuck me, sweetheart,” he groans, “you have the cutest little pussy I’ve ever seen.” He draws the hood of your clit back with his right thumb, keeping your lips spread with his left middle and index finger. You mewl at the sensation, spurring him on to finally latch his lips onto your yearning clit, sucking eagerly before licking a broad stripe from your asshole up to your wet slit. 

“Oh fuuuck!” you cry out, clawing at the sheets when he repeats the motion with his tongue, now also circling your clit with his thumb.

“Mmm, you taste divine, darlin’.” He slides two fingers inside your warm cunt, pumping them in and out of you steadily. The squelching sounds from your pussy mixed with the sound of your breathy moans are making Joel dizzy. 

Right when he feels your walls starting to clamp down around his fingers, he stops his movements. “Turn around for me, baby. Ass up face down,” he orders, sitting back on his heels to watch you get into position. 

“Good girl,” he purrs, “being so good for me, doing everything I say”. He caresses your ass cheeks and the backs of your thighs before dragging his nose through your wet folds, inhaling your intoxicating scent. Your whole body shivers at the sensation.

Joel starts sucking on your clit again while fucking you with two of his thick fingers. You clench around him, the way he’s rhythmically pumping his fingers in and out of you almost enough to send you over the edge right then. 

“Fuck, baby, so sensitive today,” Joel teases, licking from your clit up to your asshole. He starts lapping at the tight ring eagerly, reducing you to a whimpering, trembling mess when he dips his tongue inside of you repeatedly. “Mmm, I love the pretty little sounds you make for me,” he groans, wiping his mouth and chin with his forearm.

He spreads your cheeks and looks at your exposed holes in awe. You look absolutely delicious and Joel wants nothing more than to bury himself as deep inside you as possible. He laps your juices up thirstily, the vibrations from his moans sending shockwaves through your whole body. His throbbing cock is leaking precum, screaming for attention.  

“I need to fuck you, baby” Joel hisses, manhandling you onto your back. He’s on you in an instant, kissing you hungrily, his hand gripping your jaw.

You squirm underneath him, tilting your pelvis to gain some friction. “Please, Joel, please fuck me.”

He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he finally aligns his tip with your core and pushes his cock into your wet hole in one quick thrust. You gasp at the intense sensation of him splitting you open, not allowing you any time to adjust to his size.

“Oh fuck, baby, your cunt is gripping me so hard I can barely move,” Joel moans breathlessly, rolling his hips to pump his cock inside of you again and again. 

His pelvis puts delicious pressure on your swollen clit and you start to push against his thrusts to chase your high. Joel grabs your legs and puts them over his shoulders, kissing and biting your calves until you scream. The new angle allows him to hit a spot deep inside you that has you quivering and shaking, bringing you closer to your orgasm with each powerful thrust of his hips. 

“Oh fuck, Joel, you feel so fucking good,” you moan, throwing your head back and curling your toes. He grins, reaching around your legs to grab your soft tits with his hands. He massages them roughly, tweaking your nipples until you cry out in pain.

“You’re so perfect for me,” Joel pants, mesmerized by the way your body moves under him. “My perfect little slut.”

Your cunt involuntarily clenches around him and you can’t hold back the needy moan that escapes your lips.

“Oh, the princess likes that, huh” Joel teases. “Likes when I call her my little slut?” You furrow your brow and nod at him. “Mmm I like it, too,” he groans while continuing to snap his hips at an unrelenting pace. “Always want you to be my slut. Mine.”

You can feel your orgasm approaching fast, the combination of Joel’s cock and possessiveness hitting all the right spots in your cunt and mind. 

“Fuck, baby, your pussy’s choking the fuck outta me,” he chuckles, burying his face in the crook of your neck, sucking and biting at the delicate skin. You cry out from the overwhelming mix of sensations and Joel answers you by putting his hand around your neck, expertly shutting you up without cutting off your air supply. 

“Stop being a brat if you can’t take the consequences, baby,” Joel murmurs, his face hovering above yours, an amused smile playing on his lips.

You glare at him, but he quickly disarms you by leaning down and kissing you passionately. You wrap your legs around his waist and dig your nails into his back. Your skin is on fire and you have zero control left over your body.

It’s all his.

He puts your left leg over his shoulder again, splitting you open even more. The volume of your desperate moans increases as Joel keeps fucking your pussy with abandon.

“Fuck, that the spot baby?” he pants.

“Yeah,” you whimper, “please don’t stop.”

“Look at me.” He grabs the side of your neck and rubs your cheek with his thumb. “Tell me your mine.” He looks at you with wild eyes, sweat glistening on his skin. 

“Yes, Joel, fuck I- I’m yours. Fuck, keep going,” you whine, the tension in your core so close to snapping.

“I got you, baby. Let go for me, I wanna feel you,” Joel encourages you, chasing his own high deep inside you. 

“Oooh, Joel, I’m gonna come,” you sob as your walls spasm and contract around his cock, shockwaves of pleasure gripping your whole body and blurring your vision. You’re convulsing in ecstasy, not knowing where your body ends and Joel’s begins.

In this moment right now, you’re one.  

“F-Fuck!” Joel comes so hard his final thrust pushes your body up the bed. He spills himself deep inside you, your pulsing pussy milking every last drop of his cum. He collapses onto you with a strangled groan, panting heavily. 

“Fuck, darlin’, you tryna kill me or something?”

You giggle and start drawing shapes on his back with your fingers. Joel kisses your neck and hums contentedly, making sure his cock stays buried inside of you for as long as possible.

---

“Are you gonna be good from now on, hm?” He nudges your cheek with his nose. You turn to face him and look into his eyes. 

“No, sir.” 

He chuckles and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Good girl.”

You press a soft kiss on his lips before turning around and getting up. You put your dress and heels back on and walk over to the bathroom. 

“You don’t need to leave, you know,” you hear him say from behind you. You sigh and flick the light on. 

“I can’t stay, Joel.” You look into the bathroom mirror and quickly comb through your hair with your fingers. Your makeup is smudged, but it’s dark out so you don’t care. 

“We could order from that Indian place you like and watch Heat again. Besides, it’s getting late,” he murmurs, looking at you with his big puppy eyes. 

You smile at him, but don’t answer. He nods slowly and gets up from the bed to lead you to the front door. 

“Okay, sweetheart. But text me when you get home, alright?” 

“I will.” 

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

“See you around, darlin’.”

---

next part || series masterlist ||Joel masterlist

[604to647]

Hold On

1.3K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: You wear Detective Tim Rockford's leather holster.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Established relationship, nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, baby), breast worship, wee bit of thigh riding.

A/N: Inspired by @mrsmando's Tiddy Talk™️ yesterday, this is my case submission for Tim being a boob guy🫡 Kindly let me know if you're convinced 😂😂 This is, of course, our The Rockford Portfolio couple, but can be read as standalone.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics as always / Series Masterlist / If you're interested in more Adventures of Tim Rockford's Holster, may I suggest @ghotifishreads' drabble?

It had actually been somewhat difficult to pull off your little surprise for Tim.  First, you had to wait for him to be off work; it was a rarer occurrence than it should be, with Tim often working late and sometimes going on weekend stakeouts, thereby taking that leather gun holster of his with him.

Then, when Tim was at home, the two of you were hardly ever apart – not wishing to do anything other than enjoy each other’s company, either quietly or voraciously.  Sure, you could have asked him to give you some time alone to set-up, but then he would have known that he had something coming.  And you wanted this to be a surprise, surprise.

The opportunity finally came in the form of an invite to Officer Chu’s bachelor party; Tim had hummed and hawed about going, but you encouraged it enthusiastically.  Not wanting to give away your hidden agenda, you simply reminded Tim of that time when Officer Chu sat in a hot patrol car with him for eight hours so they could get photographic proof of Grandma Ursula’s lab and he had agreed he should go for a few drinks.

When you receive Tim’s text that he’s heading home, you make your way to the bedroom to get ready; giddy at the imagined look of awe that you hope to see on Tim’s face soon.

Taking Tim’s gun holster off the bedpost on his side of the bed, you run the thick, firm straps through your fingers and visualize them framing your boyfriend’s equally thick chest.  As you warm the supple leather under your thumb, you think about how it stretches across Tim’s broad back, and the image blossoms a different type of warmth in your core.

Tim wearing this leather holster is like a siren call to you; just seeing it wrapped taut around his tight frame at the end of a long work day makes your mouth dry.  You never fail to compliment the way he looks in it or tell him how much it turns you on.  Once, when you had slipped your soft hands under the straps to provide some relief where they had started digging into his weary shoulders, cooing the usual sentiments about how hot his holster looked on him, Tim had whispered back that he bet it would look even better on you.

It was there for just a second, but you had filed the dark, hungry look that flashed in Tim’s eyes when he let this confession slip, away in the back of your mind - waiting for just the right moment to test out his theory.

Stripping down to nothing but the black lace panties chosen specifically to match the dark hue of Tim’s gun holster, you slip your arms through the shoulder straps and adjust it so that the small back harness sits comfortably between your shoulder blades.  Pulling the arm straps on both sides over your naked breasts so that they touch in the valley of your chest, you give the various clips and loops a few adjustments, including moving the empty firearm sleeve so that it sits snug under your left breast, before completing the look by using a silk scarf to securely fasten the two sides of the holster together in front. 

Tying the fabric so that it looks like a big bow, you pull the knot so it sits securely on the leather that snugly hugs your plush curves.  Giggling to yourself as you climb onto the bed, you sit back on your heels and wait.

It’s not long before you hear the familiar dropping of keys in the key bowl, accompanied by the soft call of hello from your unsuspecting man.

“In the bedroom, Detective!”

“Tonight was fun, Shutterbug.  Thanks for making me go.  Chu’s fiancé was wondering if y-”  Jaw dropped and words stuck in his throat, Tim marvels at the sight before him: you and your soft curves bare and trussed up for him in his department regulated gun holster, the very one he wears to work everyday and trusts to keep his firearm close and handy, offered up on the bed like a naughty present.  As he stalks towards you, his eyes rake over your tits sitting on display for him, bordered by the bold leather in a way that’s reminiscent of art hung in a museum.  Tim lays down on his stomach and army crawls his way to you at the top of the bed; when you rise on your knees to meet him, he sits and holds you firmly by the waist so he can behold all of you before him.

“Surprise,” you whisper.

Tim looks at you with disbelieving reverence and asks a question he knows will never be answered to his satisfaction, “What did I do to ever deserve you, baby?”

You want to tell Tim that he deserves the world.  That he dedicates himself so selflessly to the protection of this city that he’s earned the right to have all of his dreams fulfilled, and that you’d happily give him anything and everything so long as he never stops looking at you the way he’s doing so right now.  But you don’t tell him anything because your mind goes completely blank when Tim dives forward and takes one of your breasts in his mouth.

He kisses and nips, taking as much of your soft skin into his mouth as he can and sucks so hard he knows he’s leaving marks; Tim comes up only for air and to lave his tongue soothingly over the already reddening spot before opening wide to devour and decorate you again.  The other side of your chest is hardly safe from Tim’s worship.  His meaty hand kneads and gropes your supple breast, pulling and pushing the pillowy flesh every which way that the constricting leather you wear allows.  You welcome every bruising caress and cry out for more, more, more with your wanton moans.  Eyes closed and mouth full, Tim’s own feral noises are muffled and smothered by your chest; you feel rather than hear the evidence of his pleasure vibrate throughout your entire body.

Even without the benefit of sight, Tim ravishes and wrecks you, expertly guided by his intimate familiarity of your most delicious parts.

His hand finds your hard nipple and he teases it with his thumb before pinching and rolling the aching peak between his fingers.

His tongue twirls and flicks your nipple until it’s swollen and shiny, only to nibble it between his ever so gentle teeth.      

Time loses all meaning as Tim repeats and alternates these mind-numbing patterns on both of your heaving breasts over and over until you’re positively howling above him.

Pulling you closer so that he can bury his face even deeper in the most gorgeous pair of tits he’s ever laid eyes on, Tim feels you start to grind yourself down onto his leg; smiling against your skin when your arousal leaks through your panties and onto his pants.  He places his hands on your waist to help guide you to the pleasure you seek and pulls back to watch your tits bounce in his face.  You cry and moan, whining his name as you chase that perfect friction on his thigh, all while Tim is hypnotized by the show your luscious curves and his leather holster put on for him. 

You come with a wail of his name and a hard yank to his soft brown curls, shuddering as you press Tim’s face to your chest so he can lick and mouth you through it. 

“So?” you coo breathily, chest still rising and falling as you come down from your high.

Tim peeks out from between your tits and cocks an eyebrow at your mischievous grin.

“Do I look better in your holster than you, Detective?”

Lust blown eyes twinkling with his own mischief, Tim lifts his head with a smirk, “Gotta see it and you in a couple more positions first, Shutterbug.”  Giggling, you watch as he takes your hands and places them on the holster straps where they lay right below your collar bone; the last thing you hear before Tim tugs your legs out from under you and you’re knocked onto your back is a low baritone command practically growled: “Hold on.”

[draculasfavoritewife]

Hunted

Summary: Tatooine is a planet filled with old ghosts, and when one of yours rears its ugly head again, your Mandalorian takes matters into his own capable hands.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and minor OC death at the end. Allusions to hunter/prey roleplay and bondage, my voice kink makes a couple of cameo appearances. I the writer was particularly thirsty for Din Djarin the day I wrote this and thus take full responsibility for the results.

This is really one of the most blatantly self-indulgent things I've written, born of many long daydreaming sessions and my love for any episode where my man rubs elbows with the delightful and despicable denizens of the OG desert planet. I truly can't explain it, Tatooine Din™️ just hits me different, so please enjoy this very long fic about it.

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

You step into the crowded main street of the city, taking a moment to let all of your senses adjust to the stark difference. The last week or so has been spent on the ship in a cold vacuum, the gleaming blur of hyperspace and the steady thrum of engines a constant gentle halo in the background. It was nice, if a little quiet for your personal taste. Your partner certainly doesn’t talk much, and you tend to spend much of your time alone with him less conversationally inclined as a result.

He’s rubbed off on you that way. 

Now the twin suns of Tatooine scorch down on you from above, making eyes that have become accustomed to soft darkness sting. A throng of street vendors, lowlifes, and ne’er-do-wells streams through the ragtag market on all sides, moving bodies chattering nonstop in floods of Basic, Huttese, Aqualish, Droid, and snatches of more exotic tongues. 

A moment, and you feel yourself suddenly at ease again, as your brain resets back to your old lifestyle in the Core Worlds. It feels like putting on a well-loved shaak-leather coat that remembers all your contours just right. 

“You look happy,” the Mandalorian observes from beside you. 

You always wonder about him, how he's actually faring under that helmet, so shiny in this harsh light that you come away with spots in your vision after glancing at him too long. Din walks with the easy confidence of a man that’s walked these alleys many times before, but you know him more personally than most. He’s a quiet man under that shell, one who vastly prefers his solitude and finds the company of most beings in the galaxy a soul-stealing chore after two minutes. 

And unlike you, he never relaxes. 

“I am.” You side-eye him, briefly admiring his prowling stride as he diligently scans the moving figures surrounding the pair of you. “Sometimes I really like big crowds.” 

“You’re crazy,” he remarks. “This many people add too many variables.” 

“Your comment stands.” You draw closer to him in order to reach into the satchel slung across his body and ruffle the Kid’s long ears. “But to me, it’s almost easier. I can usually read people’s intentions pretty well. Bodies speak louder in crowds.” 

“I suppose.” He hasn’t stopped his surveillance yet. You can guess at how his eyes are darting here and there beneath the visor. He probably has at least two escape routes planned out already, if not more. 

You want nothing more than to tell him to relax and enjoy himself — you’re not even here on hunter business, simply to refuel and stock up on supplies before your next run — but you know that’s a useless endeavor. 

“I found that strangely hot, by the way,” you say instead, since it HAS been taking up space in your mind for some time. 

“What?” 

“Finding out you speak Tusken. That’s VERY attractive.” 

It was. When he had to negotiate with the scouts on your way into town, you couldn’t deny the fluttering in your stomach at hearing his low, smoky voice bark out the harsh sounds as he supplemented his meaning with crisp sign language. 

And besides the sound of it, you certainly find it very hot for a man of his stature to be so willing and ready to communicate and settle fraught situations peacefully. 

“I — what — I don’t — ?” 

It still makes you grin, how easily flustered he is when you catch him off-guard with flirting. 

“Don’t you think so, Grogu?” You poke the Kid’s tiny nose. “Isn’t it attractive when your buir talks like that?” 

The little one squeals enthusiastically in response, probably more to your teasing than the actual question. 

“Stop that, don’t encourage her.” Din casts a disapproving look first at the Kid and then at you; it strikes you as funny how well you can translate such a simple tilt of the helmet. “And don’t you ask him that, he’s just a kid.” 

“I think you’re blushing under that bucket,” you smirk, sidling away. 

“I’m not.” 

You subside with the teasing for the time being, and the Mandalorian releases a sigh of relief as you start wandering, letting handmade jewelry and stoneware snatch your attention away from him. He’s getting better at keeping up with your rapid changes of interest, but somehow your more romantic moods still manage to get the better of him when you’re out in public. 

He blames the environment. When it’s just the two of you alone, he can see what’s coming in the slant of your lips or the way you suddenly decide to plant yourself right in front of whatever he’s working on. And he’s almost as likely to initiate now, so long as the Kid’s not in the same room. But out here, as his field of vision constantly shifts in the sea of bodies, and his right hand drifts between Grogu in his satchel and the pistol at his hip, he just doesn’t possess the bandwidth to also process what the kriff could possibly turn you on so much about his language skills. 

He tucks that particular piece of information away in a metaphorical corner, to dissect and possibly use at a later time. 

You return to him after your little side trip, flirtation seemingly forgotten for now. “I saw a ring at that one booth —” you gesture over your shoulder “— that I’m almost positive is dolovite. So pretty. I’m not even sure the vendor knows what he’s got. It’s tempting.” 

“I bet.” He notes the tone of your voice, the way you glance back one more time as the pair of you move on. 

“But we are here for the essentials, first and foremost. Maybe if it’s still there by the end of the day.” 

He nods thoughtfully, and listens as you ramble through the list of what the three of you need, both in terms of provisions and to keep the ship flying. 

The sooner you’re all able to leave this crowd and noise behind, the better. 

He doesn’t care for the feeling that his little clan’s safety isn’t completely under his control. 

Hours later, stewardship of the satchel carrying the Kid has passed over to you. Din carries the day’s purchases, slung from either end of the pole balanced across his wide shoulders. He watches affectionately from behind his immobile visage of beskar at the sight of you spiritedly haggling with a Twi’lek vendor over the price of fruit. The arm not being used to illustrate your point cradles Grogu, half-asleep, close to your torso, and it touches something deep inside him, to see you care for his foundling so naturally. 

The image almost — almost — lulls him into something resembling a dangerous sense of peace.

Almost, but not quite. 

Which is why, when the blaster bolt narrowly misses your shoulder and instead blows a crate of produce into a violently sticky explosion, he’s only a half-second slower than he normally would be as he pivots sharply and yanks out his own weapon. His shot drops the sniper leaning out of a second-story window across the street, a Rodian crumpling to the ground in a tangle of ragged cloak. 

His armor-clad body is positioned in front of you in another second, keeping you and the Kid sandwiched between the booth and his beskar as he rapidly searches for any more guns to rear their ugly muzzles. 

The market has dissolved into chaos around you, but no more fire is heard. 

You slip your DL-44 out of your back holster with one hand and push the satchel carrying Grogu further out of the way with the other. The road had cleared in seconds, the trembling fruit vendor ducking down behind his wares. The atmosphere is suddenly quiet, too many people holding their breaths all at once. 

“See anything?” you whisper to Din. 

“Negative,” he mutters back. “He was acting alone, or else the others have retreated. Looking for heat signatures is useless, they’re everywhere here.” 

A grim suspicion starts to rise in your chest, but you keep your voice removed as you step from behind him and give him a sharp nod. “Cover me? I need to take a look at our shooter.” 

He stalks behind you as you cross, your trigger finger settling into its well-worn spot in readiness. Grogu is silent; only the tips of his giant ears poke up from the top of the bag. 

For a kid, he’s been in enough firefights to know the drill by now. 

Arriving beside the smoking form of the Rodian, you flip him over and push aside the cloak, your hand drawing back when you see exactly what you were afraid you would find. 

The sigil of a sand ape emblazoned on his jacket in red. 

“Talk to me,” Din urges, voice tight. “Do you know why he was targeting you?” 

You straighten up and bite your lip for a second, struggling over the best way to break the news to him. You’d thought it was long enough ago that old scores would be forgotten, but on Tatooine, grudges rarely die, instead simmering deep beneath the filth like a krayt dragon awaiting its next meal. 

And now you’ve unwittingly brought your riduur and his ad’ika into danger. 

“I lived in Mos Eisley for a bit at one point.” You sigh. “And I left under…difficult circumstances. I’m a bit of a loose end as far as a local gang is concerned, Din. They paid well for some mercenary jobs — it was a nice temporary setup. Last hit I was hired for turned out to have a Guild bounty on him though, and they paid more to have him delivered alive. I saw a business opportunity and didn’t look back. But I made some powerful people here pretty angry.” 

“Dank farrik.” He curses under his breath. You can nearly hear his exasperated thoughts — can’t I have ONE uneventful outing? Just ONE? — but he shakes it off swiftly and is soon all business again, his next query clipped and brusque. “Does he have a tracking fob?” 

You shake your head. “They don’t want Guild here anymore, if you recall. No, it’ll be a more intimate affair, I’d bet my blades on that. This is about revenge and closure; if there’s a reward payout it’s from the boss man himself, and probably only advertised by word of mouth.” 

The Mandalorian refocuses his thoughts from where they ever so briefly derailed at your casual misuse of the term “intimate affair” and grunts his acknowledgment. “I gather the boss man wants you alive, then?” 

You laugh, a dry, ironic sound. “Oh, he will. I have a feeling he wants to watch me suffer a bit before he kills me. Or who knows?” With a shrug, you shove the body into an alleyway and return to where you both left your purchases, only the dance of your tense fingers across the grip of your blaster giving away your readiness to protect yourself. “Maybe he’ll make me his own personal slave instead. I knew all that club dancing I did would come in handy someday.” 

Din makes a hissing sound of annoyance at your flippant tongue as he follows. There’s something about the way you can talk so carelessly about such degrading fates that truly distresses him. He knows you don’t need his protection on the same level the Kid does, but the thought of either of those options actually befalling you under his watch makes his hands clench into fists, leather gloves protesting as they stretch across his knuckles. But he knows too, that dark humor is often your way of dealing with stress, so he endeavors to let it slide and not see red. 

“Do you know where he is?” he demands suddenly. 

“The boss man? I used to. And there are people I could ask.” You take the satchel with the Kid off and hand it back to him, opting to take the parcels instead. He can fight with a baby strapped to him better than you can, and knowing you’re the primary target this time, you’d rather keep him safer. “Why?” 

“Later.” His voice has gone tense again, he must have seen something you don’t. “Right now we have to get out of here. You’re too exposed.” 

Your gaze falls on a nearby speeder bike with no obvious owner nearby. “They’ve gotten lax without me around,” you smirk, straddling the bike and revving its powerful engine. “Leaving their valuables all helpless and unattended. It’s a real shame.” 

The Mandalorian is staring at you, the drop of his shoulders suggesting surprise at your brazenness. 

“Get on,” you encourage him, laying the carrying pole across the seat behind you. “You’re getting twitchy, so there must be trouble. What’s got your cape in a twist?” 

He takes a seat behind you and settles his pulse rifle across his knees. “There’s a couple more in similar jackets closing in,” he reveals in an undertone. “And I just haven’t seen you…steal a vehicle before, is all.” 

A shot pings over his helmet before you can properly react to that. 

“Drive!” he orders, pivoting to return fire. 

You oblige, gunning the motor and tearing off down the main thoroughfare. “There’s still a few things you haven’t seen me do, Cyare,” you toss back as he dusts one of the gang members on your way past. “You and the Kid made me go soft.” 

He huffs doubtfully and nods to a narrow opening between buildings up ahead. “Can you get us out of sight?” 

“If you hang on tight enough.” You execute a tight turn at the last moment and shoot down the alley, glad the bike is compact enough to follow the cramped tunnel between the crumbling dwellings. “It’s gonna be rough ’til we’re in the open, though.” 

Din doesn’t answer in words, but his free arm wraps around your waist and you can feel the Kid’s small body tucked between the two of you. 

And it’s almost an oddly pleasant feeling, outrunning any would-be pursuers with the two of them held so close. 

By the end of the hour, supplies have been loaded into the ship and Grogu has been left in the doting care of Peli, who as always is more than happy to entertain the little guy as long as you and Din keep trouble far away from her repair station. You and the Mandalorian are now camped out on a rooftop overlooking the marketplace, a tattered fabric canopy mercifully providing some scant relief from the sunlight if not the oppressive heat. As always, your riduur appears totally indifferent to such a thing as physical discomfort, leaning out from under the awning to scope the street below through the sight of his rifle. 

Does his armor have an internal cooling system? Or are Mandalorians really just that tough? 

“You know, we could just leave,” you finally suggest. “It’s not like this particular group ever goes off-world.” 

“We could.” 

You can tell there’s a reason why he won’t. 

“But I return to Tatooine semi-frequently. And I don’t want you to constantly be looking over your shoulder every time.” 

You sit back with a sigh, idly tuning up your blaster. His ways are still foreign to you sometimes. Before your partnership, you made a life depending on adaptability and quick thinking. Having only yourself to worry about, and knowing there was no one else out there worrying about you, made it easier to simply uproot and go elsewhere whenever the heat was on you. 

Din is nearly the opposite. If there’s a way he can make things more secure for those in his care, if there’s a good enough reason, he won’t ever back down from a struggle.

He already has his mind made up. 

It’s just a bit jarring to realize that you’re the good enough reason this time. 

“What are you thinking, then?” you prompt. 

He doesn’t break his focus on the area below as he answers. “I’m thinking I just killed a couple gang members and got some interesting information out of them. I’m ex-Guild and looking for work, and being a ruthless mercenary, I might just be willing to turn on a crew member if the price is right.” 

You can’t help your sudden intake of breath at his ingenious plan. “And once we get there?” 

He finally turns to face you, his next words cold and hard as tempered beskar. “Then we kill him.” 

And there’s something a little bit more menacing in there than simple pragmatism. He has taken on the role of cabur for you and the Kid; this isn’t just about keeping trouble off your backs in future. 

Someone has threatened you, and he will not rest until that threat has been put down.

That is his duty, and he will not shirk it. 

“I love you,” you murmur, barely above the hot breeze that rakes through your hair. 

He rises to his feet, shoulders his rifle. “And I you. Which is why we’re going to have to make this look convincing. You get a two-minute head start. Whenever you’re ready.” 

You swipe a dull sand-colored cloak from a stall as you pass, immediately diving into the heart of the throng, which seems to have recovered from the earlier incident. Mos Eisley is nothing if not desensitized to crime and violence, and for a moment, you almost lose yourself in awe at the apathy of the average citizen as you let the flow of movement carry you along. Nobody cares what happens around here, so long as it doesn’t happen to them. 

It’s…odd, to remember how it felt to think that way. 

Shaking yourself back into the moment, you weave between beings of all shapes and sizes, focusing on making yourself forgettable and not appearing in too much of a hurry. You know Din will find you no matter where you end up — he’s just too good at his job not to. So for the moment you let yourself enjoy this little game, a moment spent as the quarry of a very desirable predator. 

It would be a lie to say you haven’t fantasized about this before. 

A ripple passes through the crowd to your left and behind you, people shifting to make room, like river currents split by a large stone. Only one person you know could possibly cause such a stir.

Only idiots choose to stand in the way of a hunting Mandalorian. 

Which means he’s here. 

Your heart accelerates and you try to think of a way to stall him just a little longer. Reluctantly pulling a few credits from your belt pouch, you regretfully let them scatter in the dust, knowing the only thing that reliably beats fear is greed. The people nearest to you devolve into pushing and shoving in their eagerness to get their hands on them, a writhing wall springing up between you and your pursuer. 

With a grin, you slip backwards, drifting in the opposite direction of where you had been headed before, catching the barest glimpse of sun glaring off metal as you pass. 

That's a little longer. 

He’ll expect you to be thinking the way he thinks, not the way you do, so you stamp down the inclination to think that way and instead travel into a seedier part of town, seeking out more raucous company. Wandering through cantinas and gambling dens, you pick up a refreshing blue milk along the way and almost start to let the tension ebb from your muscles. But when you see him emerge from the street and gaze through the window of the same building you were just about to exit, your adrenaline shoots up again. A dash through a maze of alleys and one stolen ride on the back of a droid rickshaw later, and even you aren’t so sure what part of the city you’ve made it to. 

The twin suns are finally beginning to sink lower in the sky as you thoughtfully chew on a piece of bantha jerky and walk through a crowded residential section, no doubt where the lower classes live. It’s much quieter here, the low-income strata not having the credits to spend on frivolities at the market. 

It’s almost…too quiet. 

You hear him before you see him, an almost deceptively musical clink of the explosive charges on his belt against his vambrace as his arm brushes past. There’s nowhere to run anymore, so you pull back your hood with an admittedly dramatic flourish and discard your savory treat, hands sliding to the twin vibroblades sheathed at your thighs. 

“So, its finally come to this, Mando.” You pull your knives and take up a fighting stance. “No use in trying to sweet-talk you out of this, is there?” 

He doesn’t answer, just pulls his own blade and gestures with his chin as if saying “Try me”. 

So you do. 

The pair of you has sparred many times before, and this altercation is brief but outwardly brutal. Finesse is nice, but necessity calls for any potential advantage to be pressed and pressed hard. For the agility your much lighter choice of clothing grants you, you can’t dent him when fully armored, so finally you resort to simple but effective tactics and throw dust in his face. 

Even a visor with a heat sensor takes a second to recalibrate from that. 

You do, however, have a scripted ending for this outing, and as you sprint off, his grappling cable snakes around your hips and down your legs, dropping you in the sand. He strides up to you, tosses a pair of binders down next to you. 

“Cuff yourself,” he orders, breath coming in heavy pants after your scuffle. “I’m taking you in.” 

And since it’s him who just captured you, who would have captured you eventually no matter what because he’s just THAT good, you don’t mind. 

No, you reflect as he hefts you over his shoulder and walks away from the few scattered spectators your fight drew out, you really don’t mind this arrangement at all. 

Maybe you’ll have to tell him that, later. 

Your former employer’s headquarters are still where you remember them, and you almost smirk at the sense of uncomfortable familiarity when Din lowers you to the floor and unties your legs. Still cuffed — and a bit tired after spending the afternoon trying to outwit the best hunter in the parsec — it’s not difficult to look angry and beaten down, kneeling there in the dust. 

The boss man rises from his seat at the table, a hulking Devaronian with a chipped horn and a hungry grimace. He swaggers over, nods at the Mandalorian standing behind you. 

“I suppose I can turn a blind eye at the loss of a few good men for this. You have absolutely no idea how this one little troublesome scavenger has been occupying my thoughts.” 

Din remains silent, simply holding out a hand, a wordless demand for payment. 

Your old boss grins, nods to a couple of lackeys to bring over the credits, hauls you to your feet by the back of your shirt. 

The Mandalorian’s hand brushes past your leg as you move, and one of your knives is quietly returned to its sheath. 

“Since you turned tail and ran so quickly after disobeying me, I assume you have some idea of what I do to clever little turncoats, don’t you?” sneers the Devaronian, leaning altogether too close for your liking. 

Your cuffed hands lower in seeming fear as you shrink beneath his intimidating glare. 

“This is going to be fun,” he threatens, a hand drawing up your neck and along your jaw. “You need to learn some respect, and I’m going to —” 

The vibroblade sunk deep into his chest cuts his words off rather suddenly. 

There’s a lot you can still do, even in binders. 

The outraged lackeys are swiftly dropped by precise shots from Din, and the two of you are left gazing at each other in a now oddly quiet room. 

“I don’t know if I’d call that ‘fun’," you remark to your limp ex-boss, crouching to retrieve your knife. “A little anticlimactic, actually. Bit of a shame I had to do that. But also satisfying to see your plan turn out so well, don’t you think, Mando?” 

Din doesn’t answer right away, tucking away the bounty that he earned by catching you. “We should be on our way,” is what he finally grunts. “There’ll be more gang members swarming this place any minute now.” 

“I agree.” Rising to stand in front of him, you hold out your arms expectantly, casting a flirty smile up at his dark visor. “And, much as I enjoyed being your prisoner for a day, you can let me go now.” 

There’s a long pause. 

He stares down at your bound wrists, up at your face, down at your wrists again. He appears to be pondering something very intently, and your breath turns a little choppy for some reason. 

“I don’t think I will,” he says simply, after a little more consideration. 

“You won’t?” 

“Not yet.” His large hands tenderly find your hips, and he throws you over his shoulder again, walking out the exact same way you came in. “You’ve caused me quite a day here, you know. Keeping track of you like this might be the only way to make sure we don’t run into any more trouble.” 

“What would happen if I screamed ‘Help, I’m being kidnapped!’ as you carry me down the street?” 

He snorts. “No one’s going to help you here, Cyar’ika. Who’s going to challenge a Mandalorian over his prisoner?” 

You smirk. “No one in their right mind.” 

“Besides, you just said you enjoyed this.” There it is, a sly edge to his filtered voice, the indicator that he has more going on in his mind than simply staying out of more trouble. 

“Oh no, caught by an attractive bounty hunter! I’ll probably never see the light of day again.” You groan dramatically and drape yourself a bit more comfortably as he loosens up into an easier stride. “I’m completely at his mercy — who KNOWS what devious things he’ll do to me behind closed doors?” 

“This bounty hunter is hot and tired, and in need of a shower, if that gives you any consolation.” 

“Ah.” You poke him in the back. “Are you saying you’re all sweaty under this shiny shell, Cyare?” 

A hand slides up the back of your thigh, a subtle reminder that you ARE currently at his mercy, as you just said. 

Undeterred, you try again, knowing he must be getting more riled up than he lets on. “Have I ever told you how much I like it, when you take all these awful layers off for me and you’re all sweaty underneath…?” 

“I would rein in my suggestive tongue a little, if I were you.” He’s still looking straight ahead, but the edge beneath his words is a bit more strained now. “If you behave for me until we get back to the ship, maybe I’ll even take those binders off.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

He sighs. “My belt compartment back there. Take a look.” 

You manage to get it open, and can’t quite stifle a delighted sound as you pull out the dolovite ring from much earlier. “You sneaky son of a — ! How — ?” 

“I gave you a two-minute head start,” he shrugs, by way of explanation. 

“I adore you,” you inform him as you slip the ring onto your finger, admiring its burnished color. “I’ll be a good little prisoner for you, Mando, I promise. And who knows…,” you nudge him again. “Maybe I’ll let you keep these binders on me after all, since you’ve been so good to me today.” 

He can’t find anything to say to that, but by the fact that you can see the flush creeping up the back of his neck in that tantalizing gap between cowl and helmet, you know he’s definitely sweating now, if he weren’t before. 

“Is my big bad bounty hunter at a loss for words?” you tease softly. 

He clears his throat. “Just saving my voice, Mesh’la. If you’re REALLY well-behaved, I might — possibly — be persuaded to talk Tusken to you later. Possibly.” 

The idea takes a moment to fully crystallize in your brain; Din, and a shower, and binders, and if you just stop teasing him so naughtily in public he might actually bring that unreasonably provocative language into the bedroom? 

You finally let yourself relax into his hold, and after a bit you hear his breathy sigh of relief that you aren’t going to keep tormenting him anymore for the moment. 

After all, he has put forth an offer you can’t refuse. 

Ad'ika = Little One/Small child

Cabur = Protector

[lakesbian]

what are your animorphs thoughts on how the characters have been changing over the course of the series so far? also, do you have a favorite animal moment in the ones you’ve read?

okay this got long due to my rambling so its going under a cut

well i can't say i have any profound analysis on how they've been changing but it's fun...jake rocks because he very rapidly went from "why are you guys saying im the leader im not the leader stop saying im the leader" -> someone has to be the leader, they want it to be me, i'll take the responsibility for making the calls that could get people killed and he Is becoming more repressed and solemn over time about it but he's also great at like. having internal spirals over it and shaking like a leaf and becoming very reactively resentful of both himself for not knowing what to do and everyone else for expecting him to know what to do. & sometimes people are like aww jake it's not your fault but sometimes they yell about how he's the one that got them into this mess so he has to get him out of it while internally regarding him as genuinely being the facade he puts up (<- even marco does this it's dire for jake) so you know. he's not doing so hot. shoutout to when cassie is like so what you're not supposed to be human? and he's like that's exactly right i'm not supposed to be human. it's fucking over for him marco has started calling him Prematurely Middle-Aged. he is turning into brian laborn. i like how they know they can still strategically coerce Whimsy and Immaturity out of him (e.g. 'letting' them sneak into a hollywood concert thing) by appealing to specific teenagerisms of his (shaq will be there).

veryfunny how they. put an arc about tobias navigating [checks notes] accepting his therian identity in the 90s children novels. just straight up. they gave birdboy a stomach-fluttering creeping lack of ability to stay in denial while a higher being was showing him his ideal body moment. They gave birdboy a "rachel is forced to accept who he is and stop solely thinking of him as a human tragically locked away by finding that only appealing to his true self as a red-tailed hawk rather than as a human can bring him out of being lost in a morph" moment. Also, he was autistic about dinosaurs as a child. i fear perhaps he'll have less focus for the rest of the series because his personal arc has like. more or less been sorted already. he's good now. there is the chosen one™️thing coming up still but i like that significantly less than him being just some guy so that's not really exciting. it's nice for him that his life is cool and awesome now though. i will say it's funny how almost every time the animorphs describe each other in their books they're just so wildly off-base (generally in the 'falling for the facade' way but it was funny when marco just confidently rattled off statements about rachels purported secret insecurities that were not even remotely accurate) and with tobias everyone is still like. poor soul. forever trapped in the body of a hawk. and then you cut to tobias and every time he's not in hawk morph he's complaining and bitching and moaning about how he wants to be back in his REAL body with his REAL eyes because they're SO MUCH MORE AWESOME. he's good, guys. he's fine. he's chill.

i am on the. checks notes. second chapter of the Cassie's Spontaneous Mental Break Over Doing Violence book. i like how she had an entire book dedicated to that one specific experience some kids have of being A Kid Who Loves Animals (TM) and then processes that bad things happen all the time in nature + human morality with regards to caring for animals is complicated and biased and gets really distressed about pondering the matter. like you know that type of experience. love that she gets an entire book dedicated to having it. fantastic character trait that she's the most prone out of all of them to having morality debates with herself and distress over the idea of choosing wrong to the point where she genuinely needs someone (marco) to explain to her that inaction is in itself a decision. girl who is very sick and tired of bloodshed, and also keeps accidentally murdering people. remember when she's like [trying 2 joke] i dont want to decide...could you just decide for me jake and jake is like [seriously, completely aware she wasn't kidding on a deeper level] do you Want me to decide for you? it is perhaps most necessary for her over all the other morphs that she gets to Not Be The Person Making The Final Calls. this does not stop her from having increasingly many little moments of nervous breaks before she gets so upset she tries to hard-quit though. should be interesting to see where that goes over the course of the entire series because she has a lot more books to suffer badly through

rachel is like. i think she's the slowest boiling pot here. she's had one (1) moment of really getting snappish about her role being The Brave One but other than that she's largely going "unfortunately i cant stop talking (instinctively immediately calling marco a pussy when he says something is scary and then throwing myself into it to motivate everyone even if i am also so very scared)" and then continuing to play out her role. it's been cute to watch her friendship with marco develop they're by no means each others favorite but they're playful with each other and they're learning how to read each other. i like when rachel is like hmm i think i hear your mom on a submarine and hes like thanks rachel [thinking] if she says youre welcome shes lying to be nice and shes like. Thank you for having better hearing than you? Loser. and hes like oh thank god. it's also very cute when he steals the tv remote while they're all hanging out in a hotel room and acts like he's gonna turn it to baywatch and she gets annoyed and then he puts it to xena warrior princess for her and shes like oh ok :). she is always getting ripped and torn to shreds and almost dying and it may actually be traumatizing the other animorphs marginally more than it traumatizes her. i think thus far my favorite scene with her is when she's traveling with tobias during megamorphs 2

aximili is like. he can be kind of nothing when it's not his book but his characterization is overall really solid. kind of enamored with how much having dinner with cassie impacted him. i want to see more of his developing friendship with tobias...i like how in his head he's like "and we're Best friends :)" without checking to see whether or not tobias also thinks this. deeply deeply funny character in terms of literally being a jock who didnt pay very much attention in school sent back 400 years and expected by everyone he meets there to, like, explain how to invent electricity when all he knows is what electricity is. i think during the dinosaur episode he should have started insufferably asking the other animorphs to explain how to invent a cellphone/water purifier/etc to make a point. bonus points because he comes from a society where being considered more technologically knowledgeable than other warriors is literally a huge diss. he wants to be a jock but he's being considered a nerd by all of his friends just for knowing what is to him basic fact. which obscures the truth that cassie is the real nerd of the group. sad! i disagree with the people who think he's genuinely weird compared to other andalites and not just on earth btw. just a side note. i really like his character development and internal struggles over geopolitics while being Extremely Fifteen. he is fifteen and they are making him undergo the horrors. i would like to see more scenes like where he's invited to dinner at cassie's or where he remembers the dinner at cassie's as smth very fond/important to him but at the same time i can get behind him having a like...undersiders-type relationship to the other animorphs where the connection is simultaneously very superficial and very deep because he wouldn't be in proximity to them if not for Being In A War Together and they don't really have any intimate interactions with him but they still have the intrinsic closeness of constantly fighting for each others lives. i like how he's objectively rachel's least favorite & least trusted and they would still bite claw maim for each other!

marco is becoming increasingly complicated 4 sure. kind of enamored with his character trait where he's completely fine with going "ATTENTION EVERYONE: i am so terrified and scared and afraid that i am shivering and crying hysterically and peeing myself and i've almost fainted as well" but he simultaneously considers the idea of anyone finding out about deeper emotional vulnerabilities of his and pitying him to be intolerable. which kind of clashes in an interesting way w/ how the other animorphs are all pathologically obsessed with the notion that it's fine for anyone Else to be afraid, but They can't be afraid or they're a coward and should be ashamed of themselves. i forgot the specific context but shoutout to when marco fully genuinely says that something is very scary/he's very scared and he wouldn't blame anyone who decided to go home and then cassie projects her own insecurities onto the statement and makes a kind of snippy remark about how she's not going to back down despite the fact that it was in no way targeted at anyone. i like how it's sort of his job to be The Sensible One (although this has shifted over the course of the series now it's more his job to be The Funny One i.e. the emotional medic) but his brain just completely shits out when he's scared and he frequently has to be reminded of common sense things during fights. i like how this does not stop him from being extremely impulsively angry and violent and poorly restrained around things that hit home for him. i like how when jake tries to go "are you ok? asking because you have not made a singular jest and thats worrying to people" marco takes it as "alright fucking fine i'll do better at doing my job and making jokes" instead of emotionally engaging. it's gonna be interesting to see where he goes he's one of the more complicated ones to see the perspective of

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] Yet another repost. This was for @chaotic-nick's Zeke Week from last year! [ SYNOPSIS ] An art museum date takes a slutty turn. And it's fucking sundress season™️. [ WORD COUNT ] 1.8k [ CONTENT ] Public sex, exhibitionism, finger sucking, nipple play, biting, rough sex, hair pulling, impact play (spanking), creampie, pet names (pretty girl). Not beta read.

“Check it out,” you said smugly. “Another nondescript Roman goddess.”

You stood, arms crossed, in front of an 18th century statue from somewhere in France. It was made of weathered, white marble. Undeniably beautiful, but it was the sixth statue you crossed paths with that looked like that. Each with the same expression, only differentiated by accessories like deer and apples.

“You’re not impressed?” Zeke asked.

You could barely mask your whiny tone. “Of course I’m impressed. I’m just bored.”

“It was your idea to come here,” he teased, playfully hip checking you.

“I know. I know,” you sighed. “Are you riveted by all of this?”

“Not really, no.”

You looked him up and down, gazing at his broad shoulders. He was wearing a pale blue chambray button-down with the sleeves rolled up. It was haphazardly tucked into a pair of black, straight leg jeans. The denim hugged his long, toned legs. Zeke was significantly more intriguing than any statue.

“You know what would be riveting?” you asked.

“Hm?”

“Fucking me stupid. Right here, right now.”

Zeke’s grey eyes widened and he nervously cleared his throat. Almost as if he was trying to cover up what you had suggested even though it was obviously too late. You had already put the notion out in the atmosphere.

“There’s people,” he choked out.

“I know. Isn’t that exciting?”

“That is not the first word I would use—”

“Hush,” you said, holding your finger to his lips. “Have you ever fucked in public?”

“No. I was a virgin when I met you. You know the full extent of my sexual history.”

“Then let me be your first public fuck. I'm a perfect candidate. C’mon. You know I’d never lead you astray.”

His cheeks were pink, clearly titillated by your suggestion. You reached up and stroked his freshly shaven cheek.

“You’re thinkin’ about it.”

“What’s your point?” he asked, scratching the back of his ear.

“Live a little,” you said, mirroring his previous hip check.

Zeke looked around, eyes full of trepidation. You could tell he was weighing his options. You found yourself unconsciously crossing your fingers. Your craving for his cock felt innate and primal.

“Alright,” he said, draping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close. “But not here. Let’s go a little deeper in and find somewhere with less foot traffic.”

You grinned like an eager idiot, more than happy to compromise. The two of you strolled down the hall passing by exhibits on grandiose Rococo paintings and grotesque medieval depictions of Christ languishing on the cross. You walked to the furthest exhibit on Italian Mannerist art. The walls were painted a deep navy and the lighting was low and warm. Zeke paused to look at a painting of a swan-like, sinewy woman flanked by the most bizarre looking angels you had ever seen. You latched onto his wrist and pulled him into a corner.

“Is this better? Do you feel safer?”

“I didn’t feel unsafe before,” he scoffed. “I just didn’t want to get caught with my dick out. That’d be humiliating.”

“Or hot.”

“Maybe to you. It’s not your dick.”

“Yes, it is,” you said, palming his semi-hard cock.

Zeke swallowed hard. “I know,” he admitted.

“You know what?” you asked, playing coy.

His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you close to his body. He radiated warmth.

“That my dick belongs to you… and only you,” he murmured as he slipped his hand under your dress. He cupped your ass with his rough palm.

You started to unbutton his jeans while gazing into his grey eyes, his pupils dark and dilated. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. As confident as you were, there was still a nervousness that left your stomach fluttering. You didn’t hate it though. It reminded you that this was exciting, that this was new and risky. You quickly glanced over your shoulder making sure no one has slipped in to look at paintings of overgrown Christ Children. To your utter pleasure, Zeke and you were the only souls around.

“Such a smart boy.”

You reached up and cradled Zeke’s face in your hands. He gave you a small smile before tenderly kissing you. His lips were soft as they brushed up against yours. His movements were small and controlled, and you struggled to stay on his level. You didn’t want tenderness, not now. Now was the time to embrace ferality. To fuck like debauched beasts.

You pressed your crotch up against him and bit down on his bottom lip.

“Hey!”

You shut him up by kissing him with the intensity you craved. Your tongue hungrily sought out his. You couldn’t help but moan a little as your cunt rubbed up against his jeans. Your underwear did little to subdue the friction.

Zeke’s hand crept up your back before stopping at the base of your skull. His fingers threaded through your hair. He held his hand there for a moment, luring you into a relaxed state. It wasn’t particularly hard to do. You were so focused on your wet cunt grinding up against his thigh. He waited a few seconds and then gave your hair a tug. You squealed with delight.

“So you want it rough, huh?”

“Yes,” you moaned, voice teeming with desperation.

He unfastened the first few buttons of your dress, exposing your chest. He nipped at your neck, leaving behind a trail of kisses down your sternum. He pulled your dress down and nibbled the soft flesh of your breast. You groaned as he caught your nipple in between his teeth.

Zeke swirled his tongue around your nipple. One of his hands was still twisted up in your hair, pulling your head back. His other was pressed against the small of your back. You stared upward, eyes glazing over as he sucked on your breast. You mindlessly rutted against his thigh. Your underwear were soaked.

“Want me to fuck your pussy, pretty girl?” he asked, his breath hot against your breast.

“Mhm,” you replied feebly.

He released your hair from his death grip.

“Turn around.”

You turned around and faced the exhibit. Zeke positioned himself behind you and lifted up your dress. He peeled off your underwear, tossing them out of sight. He pressed his thick cock up against your bare cunt. You let out a little whimper as he dragged the tip along your folds, teasing you.

He reached around and gently grabbed you by the throat.

“Are you ready for me?”

“Yes!” you cried out in exasperation.

You waited for Zeke to slip his cock inside you, but for whatever reason he was hesitating.

“What’s wrong?”

Nothing, but silence.

“Are you nervous?”

“... No,” he said gruffly.

“You can do it, champ,” you snickered.

He let out an amused exhale and planted a kiss on the back of your head. He stroked your neck with his calloused thumb. You hummed blissfully.

Zeke guided his cock into your cunt. Your knees grew weak as it filled you up, stretching out your sensitive flesh. He groaned as his tender cocktip grazed your cervix. You tightened around his length, relishing in yet another one of his pained groans.

“Shit,” he mumbled as he bottomed out.

Your head grew fuzzy with pleasure. Everything was obscured by a sensuous haze. If it weren’t for Zeke’s hand around your neck, you might’ve fallen to the floor. Your body but a mere limp noodle. He must have known your grip on reality was tenuous at best because he slipped his arm around you and up your dress. He placed his palm on your lower stomach, letting his rough fingers play with your clit.

You twisted your hips slightly as he held you in place. You felt like you would burst if he continued to trap you on his cock.

“Zeke,” you whined.

“What?” he asked, playing dumb.

You huffed and muttered a few indecipherable swear words. Taking pity on you, Zeke began to thrust. The first torpedoed his cock into your cervix, a startling yet welcome sensation.

“F—fuck,” you whimpered.

He massaged your clit with the pad of his thumb.

“You feel so good around my cock,” he said through a clenched jaw.

“Yeah,” you mumbled mindlessly.

Your reply bore no weight, no meaning. Your only concerns were coming and making sure a family of tourists didn’t stumble upon the two of you.

He stopped rubbing your clit and lifted your dress up further, exposing your bare ass. He gave it a hard spank, sending a jolt throughout your body. Your skin felt electric. You were burning up. 

Zeke’s thrusts grew sloppy and wild, showing little mercy on your cunt. His breathing grew faster by the second. You arched your back as he pounded his cock into you.

“Gonna… come,” he groaned.

You started to play with your aching clit as Zeke fucked a stream of cum into your cunt. In his usual form, he babbled your name as he came, moaning and rambling about how tight your pussy felt and how good you were at taking his cock.

His praise brought you closer to the edge, gradually breaking you down. He was able to find a rhythm once more now that the urgency of his orgasm was behind him. His thrusts were deep and methodical.

“That feel good?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you recited like a prayer.

He brushed your hand aside and massaged your clit for you. The exhibit was overcome by the sounds of your cum-filled cunt getting fucked.  You tried to swallow your moans, but it was losing battle. Every so often one would escape, shrill and pained. Zeke struggled to stifle his laughter anytime one was let loose.

“Not too loud,” he whispered in your ear.

“I can’t he—help it.”

He gracelessly forced three of his fingers in your mouth to shut you up. If you weren’t so close to coming you would have bit down on them.

Your body shuddered and your vision blurred, the whole room seemingly melted away into nothingness. You came so hard you felt as if your body was deteriorating in Zeke’s arms.

“You were right,” he purred, pulling his fingers from your mouth.

“About?” you asked breathily.

“About you being the perfect person to do this with,” he gushed.

He helped you fix your dress, fastening the buttons and smoothing out its hem. Neither of you could find your underwear and they were ultimately left behind. On your way out of the exhibit a gaggle of pastel-haired, old women stopped the two of you, asking you inane questions about the museum under the assumption that you two worked there. Your heightened anxiety made an awkward encounter, an excruciating one. Zeke and you politely blew them off; you had little to no desire to talk to anyone as warm cum dripped down the inside of your thigh.

[milfgyuu]

I haven't sent one of these in a hot minute! The last gifset had me thinking: Sincr it's 🎃time, how about assigning the typical horror movie roles/tropes to Seventeen? Like, we already know Mingyu is The Hot Girl that Dies First™️ 🤣 (grouping them is also fine!)

HELL YEAH, it's spooky time!!!!! I am popping these under a read-more jusssst in case there are some sweet angels on my blog that may be sensitive to the themes or aren't into the horror genre <3

but if you're into SVT and horror film roles/tropes, read below!

Cheol - is surviving. idc. he's giving Chad Michael Murray in House of Wax like he definitely is kind of the asshole with a seedy past in the movie but it's also the reason he is making it out alive because he's fighting back. mf is running around with a tire iron and a gash down the side of his face and he's PISSED.

Jeonghan/Minghao - is taking things a little too...unseriously. like "why are you guys freaking out? ooooh he's gonna getcha!" probably even finds himself getting caught or injured and laughs when everyone gets mad at him because "it was just a joke, omg u guys". definitely turns out to be the killer in the end.

Joshua - god, sorry, but he's the handsome, sweet, innocent boyfriend of the female lead who gets absolutely gutted by the killer in the first half of the movie. Like he is the letterman jacket-wearing jock bf of Drew Barrymore's character in the original Scream. He was truly a bystander but boy is he pretty.

Junhui/Hoshi - He's just a side character but the whole audience loves him! and then he gets kidnapped and disappears halfway thru the movie so everyone assumes he's dead but just when the killer is about to whack the main character he shows up out of nowhere and knocks them out with a fire extinguisher to save them. he's a hero, baby. he still might get got tho :/

Woozi - can we get fluffy for a sec? i know it's horror tropes but this is Thackery Binx from Hocus Pocus, ok? he was kind of a little shit and then he got turned into a cat so now he's chasing around these three idiot kids trying to help them stop the witches from eating all the kids in Salem and he's perpetually irritated at his lack of opposable thumbs bc if he had them, he could just do it all himself.

Wonwoo - he's the dark-knight detective on the case. he's scary, kinda shady, and is likely doing a ton of illegal shit to find leads and force information out of people, but he's not a bad guy. He's been on the case for over a decade and lives off black coffee and cigarettes. definitely makes it to the end and has a hand in taking the killer down.

Mingyu - ok, yes, i still think he's the token slasher-bimbo - like he's the opening kill before the title sequence BUT alternatively, he's the martyr...he's the character you end up loving and then you have to watch as he sacrifices himself so everyone else lives & we love/hate him for it. We weep for him. We write alternate ending fics for him.

Seokmin - Sigh, he's the dad who buys the super-haunted house in a paranormal horror flick. He can't afford to move because he poured his life savings into buying the house. Shit keeps getting progressively worse. His dog chased something into the woods and never came back. His kids are possessed. His wife is floating in the corner and making weird noises. but he's hot - like ryan reynolds in Amityville.

Vernon - bro, he is actually Darry from Jeepers Creepers. I literally can't explain this to you if you haven't watched this CLASSIC and those of you who have seen it...you get it. Like why tf is he ignoring Ms. Dabney????? she's trying to save him and he's like...ok weirdo...i'm gonna go check out that hole where it looks like bodies are being dumped...bye.

Seungkwan - he's not going in that fuck-ass house dude. he's not doing it. he will stand guard with whatever makeshift weapon he can find and he's talking mad shit about everyone and their stupid plan the whole time he's waiting. he is, however, a good friend, and he will run into the house the first time he hears someone scream. is soooo pissed when he finds out it was over nothing and now he's stuck with everyone else in the death trap.

Chan - he is the planner, the optimist, the strategist. he is getting everyone the hell out and he's got the brains and balls to pull it all off. like, my boi is setting traps as if he's Freddie in Scooby Doo. He is pissing the killer off left and right. definitely gets himself in a pinch - almost meets his end - and still, somehow finds a way to live.

[frozenmoonshine]

Ok, so, I just randomly decided to make a list of Top 10 hottest (male) TR charcters... No idea why, it just popped in my head, lmao.

I wrote this 97% for the lolz, so don't take it too seriously.

So, here it is:

Top 10 Hottest Guys of Tokyo Revengers

10. MITSUYA - It's common knowledge that he's the Husband Material ™️ of the series! He was introduced as this responsible, mature, reliable guy with a somewhat eccentric hobby, and you may be into the cool, calm, collected, talented, kind ones, who're good with kids and house chores, but you can't convince me that your ovaries didn't do a happy little backflip with his glow-up in the last arc! You just know he's a little devil behind that whole boy-next-door act. 😏

9. SHIN - Ok, throughout the most part of the story, he was just Mikey's dead brother, who Mikey himself led us to believe was weak, generally lame, and a hopeless loser with women. Then we got the flashback chapters in the last arc, and what did we see? Capable, hardworking, caring, loving, selfless, persistant man, strong both in a fight and in holding his ground. Hell, he cared for vegetative Mikey for four years, pretty much all alone, sacrificing his own dreams and life in the process. Also, black turtlenecks and bomber jackets. That's all I'm gonna say.

8. HANMA - Who doesn't love a bit of occasional insanity?! The ultimate troll, both in the verse and in the fandom, tricked us all good! That's just how bored he was. Annoying, completely random and unpredictable, grinning madman who's only there to watch the world burn, by setting it ablaze with his own hotness! I mean, tall, tattoed, well dressed, cocky, handsome bastard, with sleepy eyes, anyone?! I hate the fact that he's giving an inexplicably strong 'boyfriend vibe'! But, I just wanna call him 'Shuuji'... 🤭

7. HAKKAI - This cutie is criminally underrated and slept on! I know Wakui did him dirty by not giving him a more complex personality than just a Mitsuya simp, but look at him! Tall, handsome, strong, blue eyes, lip scar, piercing. No wonder he ended up with a modeling career! And on top of the stunning looks, he's just a pure, shy baby! 🥺 Makes you wanna tease and corrupt the hell out of him! 🤭 Besides, his implied clinginess and loyalty suggest he's a keeper, and if that isn't hot, I don't know what is!

6. MIKEY - The definition and the school example of that old proverb - the strongest poisons are kept in the tiniest flasks. Yes, having incredible fighting prowess is hot, being a capable leader is hot, having endless authority is hot, being "emo" is hot, being painfully cute is hot... We don't care that he's pocket sized (and mentally unstable), with his endless charisma, our favorite gang leader very well deserved his place on this list!

5. WAKA - Simply, he's sexy and he knows it. And we know it. You know it. Your grandma knows it. Everyone knows it. Teen or adult, law abiding citizen or a crime lord, the White Leopard could make anyone anywhere fall for him at the snap of his fingers! ...if he only cared enough to do so, tho.

4. KOKO - Intelligent, smart, sassy, sarcastic, and plain insolent = perfection. This cheeky, well-read, super stylish, handsome motherfucker had us fawning over his strong, passion-driven personality, hidden under the cool façade. What's not to love about a blindly devoted guy?! It doesn't matter if it's the devotion to a cause or a person he deems important (#lucky Inui siblings). But fair be fair, that habit of sticking his tongue out should be X rated...

3. BAJI - If his fiery, man-among-the-men personality, undying loyalty, and endless kindness aren't enough to make you burn like a car, just take a look at that perfectly chiseled face, cocky smirk, and glorious raven locks! Still not convinced? Well, you're either blind, dead, or not into guys at all! We should actually be grateful that his adult version was only ever shown at the very last chapter, cause anything more than that would have been beyond too hot to handle!

2. KAZUTORA - There's just something indescribably magnetic about the whole "redeemed sinner" trope, and that alone would have been enough to get him a spot on this list! But since he also happens to have the handsomest face in the show, a beauty mark under the eye, the cutest smile, a piercing, a tattoo, and a fair amount of badassery and strength, it all sums up to the total of our dear banana tiger being the runner-up!

1. HARUCHIYO - Does this one really need any explanation? Pathological loyalty is beyond hot, wearing a mask is hot, scars are super hot (as already established), suits are hot, piercings are hot, long lashes are hot, pale blond/albino is hot, green eyes are hot, skillfully wielding a sword is hot, smarts are hot, being a little bit deranged is hot... the list could really go on for days, there's literally nothing about him that doesn't make him hot. "...Being a homicidal maniac and a drug addict?" No, he's excused for all red flags on the account of pretty privilege!

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Big!Sub!Steve and bladder desperation+sounding? Bucky has him drink a lot and then denys him, and denys him and denys him. Puts a sound in him, and continues to deny him until his muscles fail and the only thing keeping him from making a mess is the sound?

-🐍 anon

I was going to say that as much as I love the idea of this prompt, I'm not taking prompts right now because I'm battling school right now. Which, I totally get, is weird to hear because I reblog my own content of past requests/prompts, making it look like I still currently take them, so my apologies for any confusion. BUT, then I thought about it for 0.5 seconds too long and--

Listen.

I said I love this prompt, and I was not lying. I just 🤌🏻appreciate🤌🏻 it, okay? So, have some thoughts™️:

BEWARE, THERE IS PISS PLAY AND URETHRAL SOUNDING BELOW THE READ MORE LINE! HOLDING, AND WETTING (in the shower) AT THE END!

Bucky has Steve drink glass after glass of cold water. He doesn't tell Steve that the reason he's drinking cold glasses of water is because Steve is Bucky's tall, cool glass of water on a hot day... but that's why. It's implied, and if Steve weren't too busy with other things, he'd be able to make the connection. To Bucky, he's refreshing, a for sore eyes, with legs for days. Y’know. You get it.

Watching Steve tip his head back and drink, pale throat contracting with his Adam's apple bobbing, is almost as good as the anticipation curled tight in his gut. Waiting for all the liquid to get to Steve.

Bucky likes these kinds of games because it's very easy on his part. For most of it, he just has to sit back and direct. Drink this. Now drink more. Can you go to the bathroom? No. Now have some more, like I said. And Steve, while Bucky sits and watches, just gets more and more desperate. Normally, Bucky has to break a real sweat to get Steve to squirm and get teary-eyed and beg. This is low effort. He gets a nice view of Steve's pretty, exposed neck at the same time that he watches his get more and more needy without Bucky having to do anything? It's perfect.

Glass after glass goes down Steve's elegant, pale throat.

More and more time passes as all that liquid settles in his body, going from lips to stomach to bladder. It affects his whole body, though not just his mouth, not just his stomach or his bladder. All his muscles tense, getting tighter, fighting back shivers, his skin breaks out in goosebumps here and there when the urge gets particularly strong, his thighs come together, and eventually, his face crumples. Unable to hide it.

Unable to keep himself together.

And once Steve looks like he really can't stand it, like he's about to let go because he absolutely can't hold on any longer without any help--not a hand squeezing his dick, a sound stuffed down his little slit, or anything.

Then, when he's on the cusp of breaking, Bucky pretends it's going to be time to let him go...

He gives Steve slow elevator eyes. Up. and. down. He sighs. He beckons Steve toward him with a curled finger, then points to the floor. Steve kneels. And Bucky smirks at how Steve squirms even when Bucky tells him to sit as still as he possibly can. When Bucky amends that he can't touch himself either, poor Steve whimpers like a puppy but then locks his hands between his calves and thighs--literally sitting on his hands like the impulsive little boy he is. He just can't help himself. Bucky talks down to him, a few mean words that're coated in sugar. Adding to the illusion that Steve is nothing but a puppy, a very silly, stupid puppy that is happy so long as you speak in an excited, high tone.

Steve whines and squirms more urgently, especially when Bucky tips his face up with two fingers under his chin. Directing him.

Steve is obscene. In sight and sound. All the pleading, begging noises he's making are so damn close to the sounds he makes when he's so entirely lost in pleasure that he doesn't care about anything but Bucky and whatever Bucky wants to do with him.

Bucky. Anything. Bucky. Anything.

It's so sweet.

It's so deliciously pathetic.

But, instead of letting Steve go like he set up to make it seem, Bucky tells Steve that he's going to go to the bathroom. Not to pee. But, to get something...

Bucky forces Steve to fetch his own towel from the bathroom.

And, God, this embarrasses Steve not only because he has to do his I-really-have-to-piss-but-I'm-not-allowed waddle all the way to the bathroom but also because getting a towel forces him to think about the fact that he has the real possibility of making a mess. There is a real possibility of being a bad boy who can't control himself and who can't listen to simple orders. No matter how badly he wants to. He just can't.

Hold it, that's all. That's the only thing he has to do. But it's so hard.

Steve brings the towel back to the living room to a grinning Bucky. It makes Steve's full stomach turn into knots in the best and worst way.

Bucky simply twirls his finger in a circle and directs Steve back to the bedroom saying, ah-ah-ah, as if he was supposed to know better.

Steve squirms for more reasons than needing to go to the bathroom. Embrassement and shame and... something he can't identify. He knows he's turned on. It's not that. It's somehow even darker. Like. Fuck. He's so turned on.

This time, Bucky follows Steve, teasing Steve a little about his desperate waddle. Wobbling on his feet unsteadily. So cute. He has to go so bad, doesn't he? Poor thing. Bucky pinches Steve's ass filthily, too, laughing at how Steve squeaks as if he's afraid he won't be able to hold it even just with that little added stimulation.

Once they make it to the bedroom, an easy stroll for Bucky but not for Steve (not at all), Bucky has Steve lay down on the bed on his back, the towel spread out underneath him just in case... then, Bucky takes his own bathroom break. Both to go piss (sighing loudly before he does and leaving the door open to give Steve something to be jealous of) and also to carefully collect the recently cleaned sounding set (they clean it after every use but also before, bladder infections aren't to be fucked with).

When he returns, Steve is still flat on the bed, but he's sweating. Visibly. He's still moving, too. Little tiny movements that he's probably not even aware he's doing.

As Bucky starts to touch him, Steve asks him to stop several times. He can't take it. He begs with tears in his eyes. No, no, no! Stop! Wait! Hh-ah! Ah! Ah! 'M, m gonna-! Buckyyy, mmngh! I'm gonna pee! Stop! Stop! I can't hold ittt! Please! Oh, God! Please!

Bucky stops because he asks so sweetly every time. But he does keep moving forward, too. He'a determined. He can go slow, though. He lets Steve get used to his hands on him when he's so sensitive... first, the less sensitive parts of his body, arranging his arms and legs where he wants him, as if Steve's a little doll. Every movement, every bodily function under Bucky's control. He is Bucky's. It makes Steve pant, eyes lidded heavily, thinking in a mantra--his, I'm his. Then, his belly and his dick and his inner thighs. The places that he's particularly sensitive. Thin skin. Lots of nerves.

It's slow.

But it's so worth it because by the time Bucky is sliding the first, thinnest sound into Steve, fucking it gently into his cock... Steve is beyond words. He is in a trace. Hazy, dark eyes with heavy, heavy lids. So sweaty that his skin is glistening. He's practically glowing with his blush so intense that Bucky might burn his hand if he put it to his cheek. His words are all sluggish and slurred--drunk with it. Steve is also entirely powerless to stop all the little (and big) sounds he makes from coming out. Whines. Gasps. Moans. Swears. Groans. Pleads. He's too weak to do much, but his head thrashes from side to side. There are tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, rushing toward his side burns as he twists and moves his head. Sobbing heavily but also so weakly. He's so weak like this. Soft and melted. His muscles have all failed.

It's so fucking attractive it's beyond words.

He's flying.

He only gets higher and higher, prettier and prettier, as Bucky progresses through the first sound to the second. The second is larger, just thicker. The third, which he gets to next, teasing the tip in after stretching Steve's cock, is designed for this. It's wider at the tip. It's heavier. It's designed to hold everything in. It's designed to sting a little--to stretch greedy sub's holes.

Steve feels the third sound start to slide in and sobs. He cries like he's gonna die while moaning like he loves it the whole time. And he does.

He fucking loves this.

Bucky sinks the third sound all the way inside him for the first time, and Steve's eyelashes flutter. His eyes have rolled back into his head. And Bucky can tell by the way his stomach unclenches that he's just fully, fully let go. He's not holding himself back. The moment Bucky pulls the sound out of him, he's going to gush everywhere. No holding back whatsoever. Steve has given himself entirely over.

And nothing could be more erotic. Steve is all his. All Bucky's. Bucky is in control.

With his control, Bucky goes back to his belly. And now that Steve is trapped with the sound deep in his hard, hard cock... Bucky presses down on his precious stomach. Steve squeaks. His eyes leak even more, crying harder, not stopping. He can't stop.

Under hand, Steve's stomach is bloated. His abs are struggling to hold back all the water he's downed, so rather than being perfectly defined, Steve's belly is a taut swell. It's not huge or anything, but Bucky can feel it under his palm. He can feel how full and tight his Steve is. He can feel how full he made Steve. His doing. Because Steve trusts him that much that he lets Bucky use his body. He lets Bucky have his body.

It makes Bucky's head spin.

He presses down a little harder, feeling the difference between how tight his stomach is versus his bladder.

God.

It's Bucky's turn to shiver.

He's tight.

Bucky's mouth can't help but run, "you're being so good for me, baby," he says worshipfully. Then, when Steve makes a helpless, adorably vulnerable sound, he adds, "wanna know how I know how good you're being?"

Steve discombobulatedly nods his head. His face has gone from being all scrunched up, trying extremely hard not to piss himself--holding off desperately--to being fully lax. He looks so cute all scrunched up. And he looks perfectly dumb when his face is all lax--obviously, he has no thoughts going through that big, pretty head of his. "I know," he emphasizes, "cause I got all the evidence right here!" Bucky presses down the hardest yet on his belly.

Steve gasps, eyes shooting wide open and spilling over with fresh tears. His whole body twists and turns viciously. He's in no danger, not with the wide sound stuffed down in his throbbing dick, of pissing himself, but it certainly feels like he does. It probably feels like he's gonna burst. All that pressure.

Suddenly, Bucky lets up.

And Steve moans in relief like he's being sucked off.

Bucky shudders. He can't help it. Seeing and hearing and feeling Steve like this gets him going, God, help him, it really really does. Bucky wants to keep him here for as long as possible, but...

Eventually, he does have to let Steve go.

So, he helps Steve to the shower (Steve's too out of it to aim or to hold still enough to make it in the bowl even if Bucky were to grab his dick and hold it for him) and holds Steve to him. His chest to Steve's back. And he whispers in his ear, "go," as he slides the sound out of his dick as fast as he can.

Fuck, does Steve go.

Instantly, it's loud, it's long, it's explosive.

Bucky can't honestly believe he managed to hold all that back. His jaw loosens and drops as the longer it goes on and on and on.

Goddamn.

Despite the way their bodies are positioned, Bucky watches it all. He sees it all. The fucking show. As Steve pisses hard--harder than he's ever before in his life--Bucky watches Steve's precious face melt with orgasmic-level relief in the mirror above their sink.

God, he's so obsessed. He's so hungry. Bucky wants to kiss that fucking look off Steve's face. He's wants to and he fucking does. Bucky turns Steve's face toward him and kisses him viciously. Biting his mouth. Tasting the pleasure of relief that's wracking his boy so thoroughly. His good, so good, and obedient boy.

I hope that was worth the wait!

[rainswept]

why do you like chuuya /gen, like I dont mean to sound rude in anyway but why😭🙏

this is going under a read more because i started yapping and couldn’t stop. i’m sorry

his personality. hes so funny and hes such a bitch i love him. but also he’s an incredibly dynamic character. he’s well written and tbh that’s enough for me to like him already. he’s had so much shit thrown at him and very well could have become a horrible person but he’s not. others care about him and he cares about others. he hasn’t let himself become as bitter as he could have been. he is still so full of humanity despite it despite everything SEE NEXT PARAGRAPH

i’m a sucker for characters that are entirely completely human and yet don’t think they are, or struggle with whether they are or not (especially thinking so because of all the reasons that they are— but i suppose chuuya doesn’t really fit that part so i won’t get into that now.) like yes chuuya has (or had, i guess) a reason to believe he isn’t, but does that really matter when faced with the fact that you have emotions and blood just like everyone else? does your make matter when you’re not so different after all? it’s existential. it makes u think. 

his crime list is about as short as he is and i find that wonderful

his lore/past/backstory whatever you want to call it. not even, he’s still going through it. man 😭. he’s had so much loss but not a single goodbye and i think that’s a really fucking good (and depressing) concept. he has never had the chance to mourn properly. he acts like he did.

hes cunty

his dynamic w dazai i find very compelling too. like yes they bicker and yes they fight and yes they “hate” each other (they don’t) but they also trust each other with their lives and have left them in each other’s hands too many times to count. it shows u the depth of both their bond but also the characters individually. they’re not entirely self sufficient.. they can obviously take care of themselves but they’re at their best when working togegher. i thinkt hats cool. FREINDSHIP IS MAGIC!!1! no but it shows u that even the strongest people arent at their best until theyre able to connect. not that dazai and chuuya have a model relationship at all… but there’s trust there. and that’s enough

hes hot

he makes me so viscerally and upsettingly sad

dog motifs. ok hear me OUT i’m SORRY but tbh the title was what got me interested in bsd in the first place. everyone is a stray in this show and i like that very much. i love characters that are LOYAL to a FAULT. i love characters with gnashing teeth and wagging tails. i love characters that hold so tight onto things their hands hurt and they end up causing them to flee. that “everything i’ve ever loved has claw marks on it”??? yeah give me that shit i will eat it up EVERY TIME. i love characters that are blinded by their senses of duty, not in the way that they’d do anything whoever they’re loyal to asks of them (though that is a nice dynamic too, i don’t think that’s as Chuuya ™️ as the other i’m talking about), but in the way that they’d lay down their life without a second thought (or caring about how those people see them). a dog that is beat may bite but but but it will still have its duty. even if it hates it. (<- see also AKUTAGAWA akutagawa is the reigning champion of dog motifery that is probably why i love him so much. but that is akutagawa. and i’m talkign about chuuya so im gonna dhut up now) ) i like characters with Three Betrayals COUGH COUGH COU💥💥💥💥ogh mymgod scafamocuhe 3 betrayals chuuya flags sheep dazai Im HOWLIFJG someone KILL ME NEOW ok thay doesnt make aense i just thought it was funny. anywa

fanbs fanbs* FANGS idc if they’re fake

thanks for comign ti my ted talk 🙏 i may add more later. but i didn’t want to. talk. too much. um. i think that’s out the window though

[kits-ships]

🐪 🐌 🐋 and🐁! :3

YAY DISASTER POLYCULE MY BELOVED <3

🐪 Who confessed first? How did it go?

Kyojuro asks to date Ione first. He then sees that she likes Giyuu, and that he enjoys Giyuu's company, so he encourages Ione to ask Giyuu out. After a while, Ione notices the way Sanemi treats both her and Giyuu, and it takes her three years to convince him to drop the tough guy act and DATE THEM !!!

🐌 Who is more likely to fall asleep first? Who goes to sleep last?

Kyo goes to sleep first and he falls asleep QUICK. He's like the base of the pyramid if that makes sense. He sleeps splayed out.

Sanemi goes to sleep second. He typically lays next to Kyo on his back, but sometimes Kyo drags him closer in his sleep.

Giyuu and Ione go to sleep next, but it's a toss-up between who falls asleep first. Ione is typically too anxious to sleep and Giyuu is plagued by The Mean Thoughts™️, so they stay up longer to cuddle or read or w/e they wanna do.

75% of the time, Giyuu sleeps first and lays between Kyo and Sanemi. When Ione joins, she sleeps cuddled into Kyo's side, Giyuu spoons her, and Sanemi either steals Giyuu for cuddles or spoons him.

Big conga line of spooning and then Kyo on his back. Although he does sometimes insists on being "the littlest" spoon.

🐋 What are each of your FOs' nickname? Do they have one for you too?

Ione calls... Giyuu: Sweetheart / Lovey / Baby / Handsome Kyojuro: Kyo / Sunshine / Happy Boy / Handsome Sanemi: Nemi / Cutie / Tough Guy / Handsome

Kyojuro calls... Ione: My Love / My Sweet / My Darling [Ione] Giyuu: My Friend (friend-zoned his qpp /j) Sanemi: Sanemi / My Friend (again)

Giyuu calls... Ione: Sweetheart Sanemi: Nemi <3 Kyojuro: Kyojuro

Sanemi calls... Ione: Dumbass / Princess / Pretty Girl Kyojuro: Loudmouth / Man / Bud Giyuu: Idiot / Dark Cloud / Handsome

🐁 Any headcanons you have about your polycule?

so many.

they can't leave the doors or windows open at night; it stresses sanemi and ione out even after demons are eradicated

ione feeds the bunnies and tanukis that visit their yard.

they all have a little farm / garden that they work on, but sanemi and kyo take it the most seriously. sometimes sanemi just sits outside to chase rabbits away from their crops.

kyo loves carrying people. doesn't matter who. you do not need to walk. sanemi and kyo will also carry ione if somethings wrong with her prosthetic

giyuu and ione often fall asleep under the kotatsu in the front room; especially if one of them is having a bad night emotionally.

kyo does not allow for bad communication and we respect boundaries around here ‼️‼️‼️

kyo is the heaviest sleeper, while ione is the lightest. she often wakes up when someone (usually sanemi) is having nightmares to cuddle + reassure them.

giyuu is the true housewife. he likes tidying up

sanemi keeps everyone on schedule

kyojuro is the handy-man!!

and ione makes sure everyone is well-fed, happy, and taking care of themselves. (+ they do the same for her)

sanemi and giyuu go hiking a lot !! either to visit a hot spring or just for fun. kyo typically stays behind with ione since hikes are too hard on her leg

[acacia-may]

Hiya Acacia! For the salty ask game; may I ask for 1, 4, and 11 please 🥰? It can be for any fandom, but if you want a specific one it can be Black Clover!

Alright Lyra! Let's get salty about Black Clover ^^

Necessary disclaimer above the cut: These are just my own personal opinions based on my personal tastes, perceptions, and feelings regarding the series, stories, and characters and their relationships. I genuinely have the utmost respect and absolutely no ill will towards anyone who has a different opinion than me. In fact, I have always said that one of the greatest things about fandom is that we can all experience and perceive these amazing stories and characters in very different ways but still love them. Even some of my dearest fandom friends enjoy different pairings than me or see our shared favorite characters in wildly different ways than I do. I personally find it very rewarding to have respectful conversations about our differences of opinion, and I hope that my opinions will also be respected. Also, I don't vibe with just mindless bashing things, so even though this is about to get very salty and a little snarky, I'll try to keep it respectful and all in good fun. I am not tagging anything and am hiding my thoughts under the cut so you all don't have to be subjected to my hot takes and "Salty Acacia," if you don't want.

OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?

Yami paired with any of his Black Bull subordinates!! I mean I guess I get it if you don't see him as a parental figure to them, but in my mind, this whole group has Daddy Issues™️ and collectively adopted this man as their father-figure. The idea of adding romance in there just gives me the ick. Especially with Finral...It's just such a personal squick for me that I will just never understand it. Sorry not sorry.

Also, Langris x Mimosa. I do not vibe with that. It's not as visceral as the Yami x a Black Bull ships, but it's just not my cup of tea at all and I genuinely can't imagine them (as I personally perceive them) ever having a romantic interest in each other since she's kind of like a little sister to him in my mind. I know people, including friends, who ship this pairing and I respect that. I've actually read fics about them trying to understand it and the appeal, but ultimately I'm just never going to get this one personally. It's just not for me.

4. Do you have a NoTP in your fandom? Are they a popular OTP?

YamiFin. See above. I know a lot of people ship it, including people I know and consider my friends, and I know it is because they view their relationship in a wildly different way than me and do not imagine those paternal, familial vibes between them that I do. Like I said in the disclaimer, I respect their differences of interpretation and opinions, so again nothing against them. For me, however, I personally do not vibe with that ship on every possible level. Again, in my mind, Yami is just such father-figure to him that this is just viscerally a NoTP for me.

Vanessa x Yami is the same way but less intense(?) I guess because she has shown a canonical romantic interest in him at least back when he was the only man she had ever seen... (which doesn't seem healthy, so that's a really big nope for me. Also again with the father-figure vibes!!)

I guess Mimosa x Langris is a NoTP too, but it doesn't give me as much of the personal ick as the Yami ones and I don't think it's that popular, so it feels a little unfair to list them here even if I really, really don't vibe with that one. Still, it's a no for me!

11. Is there an unpopular character you like that the fandom doesn’t? Why?

I'm not entirely sure who is unpopular in the fandom at large because I feel like we kind of have our chill, small corner of the BC fandom here and that's where I hang out. I guess I would say Langris because I think he is a pretty dislikable character and even though I feel like most people tolerate him a little more after the Spade Arc, he isn't the most popular when he's really one of my personal favorite characters in the series. I feel like he has a lot of depth to him, and he interests me. I don't excuse his bad behavior or the way he treated his brother, but I think I can understand the why behind his behavior and appreciate that he has been having a good arc. He isn't as terrible of a person as I thought he was in the beginning. Even I used to detest him, but now he's a favorite.

I'm not sure who else is unpopular? Um...I feel like Mimosa gets a lot of undeserved hatred sometimes because of the whole shipping war (which I also don't understand), and that irks me because I think she's actually a pretty cool character and it's not fair that she gets written off and/or disliked for shipping discourse outside of her control. If y'all are so obsessed with her gettting in a relationship with someone who isn't Asta just ship her with Yuno or something I guess??? It's really not that hard! I like her friendship with Klaus and Yuno and her cousin relationship with Noelle a lot. She's also had a good arc! (Sorry that's one wasn't very salty...😅)

[firekitten830]

thinking about gio .... tell us more about him he's literally silly + i like him so much

YOUVE ACTUVATED . MY AUTISM

Makes a bulleted list

-full name Giovanni Morningstar, both of them chosen rather than given. Ooc I chose Giovanni because he is actually vaguely based on my pc from a different ttrpg, and that characters middle name is Giovanni. And Morningstar is a reference to The Devil. like from the bible dksgsjhd

-his divine blood specifically comes from Sharess, goddess of hedonism and indulgence that vanished when dnd 5e came out during the second sundering . So it is no surprise he is motivated almost entirely by hedonism

-he does not know this.

-he’s definitely not her only descendant but he’s her only descendant that inherited any of her magic

-he was not always a tiefling

-he didn’t always have access to his divine magic

-the previous two points were sparked by the same event

-he was born in waterdeep! Not baldurian but gets around enough to know some things

-wanted magic desperately but had absolutely 0 talent for it before his divine magic awakened so he learned the next best thing: stealing shit. Man has been conning and pickpocketing and just generally getting up to thievery and tomfoolery since he was like. 8 (charlatan background)

-folk hero background could fit him pretty well too! Before he got Tadpoled he sorta wandered from place to place helping common folks and robbing rich people blind. Sort of a Robin Hood type guy but he did also keep a good bit of money lol

-he’s a trans man :] no surgeries and he doesn’t want them, though he does take wizard testosterone or whatever it would be in dnd. Probably a potion or something

-queer and poly!! I imagine he has a couple lovers across the sword coast, some he’s going steady with and others he’s sort of off and on with. He’s so lucky he lives in a world where teleportation exists and is not that hard all things considered im so jealous fr (I’ve also decided that his dream guardian looks suspiciously like one of his boyfriends). Worm nerfing his magic has unfortunately made keeping in touch a bit harder but he’s been managing

-his blood is a pretty potent magical power source and several people have tried to abduct him to use him as a conduit for spells or rituals because of this. I imagine after That Scene™️ with Astarion he was like “oh shit I should’ve warned him about that. Oh well he seems fine” . In the moment he was too focused on there being a hot vampire straddling him

-his tattoos are tied to his magic and glow when he casts spells. You can tell which way he’s about to fucking get you because he’s conveniently color-coded

-may or may not be on the brink of turning into a mind flayer but I’m sure that’s like. Fine.

WAIT I just remember I made a dnd character sheet for him before I ever got bg3 and I wrote a whole background thing as well as a value/ flaw for him . I’ll put those under a read more tho this is already kinda long

this part is written ooc!!

“Sharp, charismatic, and hedonistic to a fault. He has a silver tongue and a knack for deception, able to lie his way into and out of nearly any situation. He’s been driven out of many towns for his infernal heritage, alongside the myriad cons and schemes he often pulls on the wealthy, though he’s welcomed into just as many as a minor celebrity, and in some cases, a hero. This suits him just fine, though; he’s always been one to dance from place to place anyway. He enjoys finery of all kinds, and is happy to trade fine food, drink, clothing and accessories for coin… though he much prefers to offer favors as payment. He does have many talents after all; a quick-fingered thief, an excellent negotiator, a ruthless conman, a somewhat formidable sorcerer, a gifted storyteller, and if it suits your fancy, an escort (though he does charge extra for events)… as well as some other things, of course~”

“It is fairly difficult to draw his ire;he’s more than willing to forgive and forget most wrongs against him. But it would be wise not to test his limits too much; his normally capricious manner becomes cold and relentless when he feels punishment is owed. People who hurt those he cares about often walk away with gruesome scars… if they walk away at all.”

And then I have a ummm ideals and flaw section written in character cause these are on his character sheet

Ideals: “The safety and happiness of those close to me matters far more than any laws, or the ‘greater good’”

Flaws: “I’ve been called self-serving on many occasions, and I’m always weak to a bit of liquor and a pretty face”

I am sure I will think of more things to say about him I inevitably always do but I’m a little sleepy so I’m ending this post now!!

[bradshawsbaby]

M'dear I hope you're well and I do apologize for not coming back to the ask box as often. I think there's something wrong with my brain because the brain farts are uncontrollable lately (lol).

Halloween has been on the brain alot lately, maybe it's just the changing of the seasons up here in Massachusetts and the fact that it's already October (I'm dreading winter honestly because that means I'm gonna have to help my dad put the snow tires on the car sooner than later), but I've been having some really, really cute Bob thoughts lately.

So I'm doing my teacher training in the next state over and storytelling is a really, really huge part of grades 1-8 (even beyond that and in early childhood but I'd have to write a book to explain all of that, lol) and we had to pick a story that we would tell the younger children. One of my classmates had a book that's a Halloween parody of "Goodnight Moon" but it's called "Goodnight Goon". The entire time we were reading it, all I could picture was Bob reading it to Auggie and Patrick and the younger of the two being like "Goon! Goon!" in his little baby voice.

Auggie definitely gets all excited when you put on the Peanuts holiday specials, Especially The Great Pumpkin (I've shared this around alot and I hope you don't mind). He thinks watching Linus roll that pumpkin around is the funniest thing in the world and it got even better when Bob made a Great Pumpkin marionette out of felted wool from your craft kit.

I have so many more thoughts I wanna share with you my friend, but unfortunately if I share them all at once it'll probably be too long of a blurb (lol).

Mary

Oh gosh, this is just so sweet! 🥹

I feel like Bob has the energy of a perfect Fall Husband™️. He’d so happily take you and your babies to the pumpkin patch and the apple orchard, and then he’d play with the kids in the backyard while you’re in the kitchen baking pumpkin and apple pies. Once the sun goes down, you’re all cuddled up under the blankets on the couch, watching the Peanuts holiday specials and enjoying mugs of hot apple cider.

This life when? 🥲

[cyar-ika11]

Some thoughts about episode 14, Tipping Point

I have no one for taking about Star Wars in general, so here I am :,)

Bad batch spoiler under the cut

Omg too many things going on

THE CONTRAST BETWEEN THE SQUAD AND CROSSHAIR 🫠

Of the scenes I mean

ECHOOOOOO

When he appeared and said “let’s make this quick” I had to stop the episode for a moment for taking a breath

On the other hand

Crossahair getting tortured was not my cup of tea, seriously Filoni you gotta pay for my therapy now

I can’t look

Is too much for me

And when he freed himself I was like “he is never going to make it outside like that”

But you know that was not his plan

Sorry for the misunderstanding Cross, I have 0 strategy tactics about anything

Anyway, when he actually went for sending a message to the squad 🤧🤧

“Plan 88”

The green smoking surrounding him, that was poetic, so tragic

AND THEN

HUGE contrast (really reminds me of some scenes in Andor)

The batch living that Greek life™️

Wrecker fishing, now that is my cup of tea

How peaceful everything looked 🫠

Omega flying with Tech was top comedy to me

Really reminded me of my mom and my sister in the car learning how to drive (not me bc the thought of driving makes me sick, yeah lets not comment on that)

But anyway, same chaotic energy, love that

And then echo is BACK

THE HUG <3333333

That melted me, like ice on hot cement

Tech decrypting the data and finding out about Crosshair :,,,)

Then here…the fact that HUNTER is the one having second thoughts on Crosshair

“What if this is a trap”

That broke me (part 3883)

Bc is not Tech simply analysing all the possibilities, but Hunter thinking as the very first thing that his brother is betraying them again

Maybe I am just exaggerating, but that really showed how deep the wound is

Even if that was already obvious, that was a nice touch I think

STILL

Crosshair being on the side of his brothers, fighting in all ways that he could,

Deeply touching.

sorry, I am emotionally attached to this show more than I should.

Thank you for reading this mediocre comment on the episode tho <33

[apus-neverstoplooking]

TW: graphic depictions of self harm (there will be blood, and razor blades) , mental health issues. Please do not read if you think it will trigger you, take care of yourself.

Regulus sits on the edge of the tub, the hot water of the shower in front of him is a stark contrast to the cool porcelain under him.

He was fine yesterday morning, he woke up, made tea and French toast for him and James. He cleaned up the kitchen because he insisted it was his mess to clean up when James tried to help him. It was lovely.

Then it wasn’t. Nothing happened, nothing ever has to happen for him to get like this. One moment he’s fine and then the next he’s crawled up in his bed wearing one of James jumpers and his favorite pajama pants with the lights off. And he doesn’t know why he gets like this. And he hates it.

James is normally here to help him when he gets like this but after breakfast yesterday he had to go to Sirius’s Mandatory Annual Mauraders Weekend Getaway™️. And James’s departure isn’t the reason for this, the last few years have been fine, and these bouts of ‘melancholy’ occur when James is literally right next to him sometimes.

He was supposed to go out with Barty, Evan, and Pandora but he just couldn’t. They came to pick him up and when they didn’t find him dressed they tried to drag him out because he never goes out and needs to socialize. It wasn’t their fault, really, they don’t know he gets like this. He tried to explain that he wasn’t feeling well but when he tried to open his mouth he couldn’t. He hated going non-verbal. He laid face down on his mattress for hours after they left.

He woke up in the morning hoping to feel better and he wasn’t. If anything it was worse and he wanted to relapse so fuckng badly.

He knows he shouldn’t, he’d been doing so well. He hadn’t even wanted to do it again since James found out a year ago. He was supposed to be doing better. He was doing better. Despite these moods, he hasn’t had the urge to relapse.

Until now.

He had decided to take a hot shower, they help sometimes.

That’s how he found himself on the edge of the tub, scalding water splashing in front him. In one hand he’s pinching the outer part of his upper thigh, in the other is a razor blade.

He sees the thin white lines of the marks he carved into his skin but have long since healed. He used to hate them, he felt ashamed of them. But now he kind likes them. Back then they were new, red and angry, now they’re old, silvery and neat. He was happy they were scars because that meant he no longer had any any fresh ones. They meant he stopped, that he was getting better, that he survived.

He knows he should call someone, he supposed to call someone. James told him to call.

James

Sirius

Barty

Evan

Pandora

Dorcas

Remus

Even Narcissa.

All the people he could call, people he should call.

And then he cuts.

Watching the line of crimson bloom against his alabaster skin, watching it turn the water pink.

And he hates himself more for it.

He cuts deeper.

***************************************************

That was rough, I’m basically projecting onto Regulus here and I needed to get it out somehow so I wrote this. I’m sorry if you relate to this at all.

Take care of yourself, drink water, eat something substantial, get some rest. You deserve it, I love you. My DMs are always open.