#why are there WHOLE ROCK FORMATIONS UNDER THERE

[bravevolunteer]

i just think this is a question not enough people are asking

[thefangirlfever]

MIGUEL O'HARA x reader (18+, smut) MDNI

firefighter AU🧑‍🚒🔥🚒

Art credit: @kit-and-wolfe on Tumblr

Summary: You and Miguel are dating and he had hidden from you that he took part to a fireman’s calendar.

Notes: Just a silly idea I got from seeing multiple great firefighter Aus and a conversation with I had with @lazyjellyfish300 about Miguel! firefighter getting flustered. This story is a direct continuation of this post.

Tags: smut, F/M, AU, Firefighter AU, cunnilingus, PIV penetration, established relationship, fingering, no plot just smut, horny FMC, dirty talk (may be cringe), mention of masturbation (F/M), aftercare, breast and nipple play, hint at size kink, discussion around contraception

Word count: 3858 words

April was now your favorite month of the year. Most people would think that it was because you were excited about the upcoming Spring, the Sun in the sky and all those things, or maybe it was your birthday’s month. But you were unfortunately more pragmatic.

No, it was simply that the picture on your calendar for this month was to die for. Lying on glazed paper, in A4 format, a hand on his hip and his helmet on the other a tall, stupidly handsome man was looking at the camera with a bedroom look in his eyes. Firefighters have never been your thing, and you even considered it weird that a whole profession could be fetishized in a way or another but...that was different. You had to admit that you kind of see the appeal of it now. Honestly, this man could be anything else than a firefighter and you would probably still get the hots while looking at his picture.

Abs for days, rock hard chest with the right amount of thick, curly black hair that lazily trailed down toward a mouth-watering happy trail (that could only let you presume of a thick, happy bush), the infamous V-line that made his hips dip sensually under oily skin… Well, they really went all out with this picture. It was probably a bit edited but still...They even left his five o’clock shadow and the scar on his left arm. Good. Very good. That’s some professional job, you could tell.

You could have spend hours looking at this picture and still find new details about it. In fact the idea was very tempting, hence why your calendar was still stuck on the month of April despite being already mid-August. The calendar was pinned on your fridge and you could look at it every time you would cook or eat, which was exactly what you were doing right now. Well, at least you were trying because as soon as you would try to bring your fork to your mouth, your eyes would land again on the perfect picture.

The fact that you knew the model didn’t help at all your trouble.

You had met Miguel a few months ago through joined acquaintances and you didn’t even know he was a firefighter at the time. He would rarely speak about his job, not even to complain about it. And certainly not to brag. You quickly realized that he was quite secretive and shy when it came to his private life. It was very rare, almost impossible to hear him brag and he didn’t really take compliments very well. No idea where this insecurity could come from. He was quite a catch honestly, not even speaking physically. Miguel was overall someone nice and caring, as if his job didn’t already convey this trait of his personality enough. Maybe that’s why the two of you got along very well. When he was devoted to the well-being of most people and selfless, you were selfish, pragmatic and even a bit bitter. He was the type of person who would wake up at 4 in the morning to help the others and you were the type of person who after waking up at 10 am would shamelessly ogle the picture of a half-naked man, wondering about the size of his…

Your phone softly buzzed, taking you out your daydream. As soon as Miguel’s name appeared on the screen, you came back to your senses and picked up the phone.

“Hi…”

“Were you still sleeping?”, he asked with an amused voice. While most people would find you lazy, Miguel had simply accepted that your lifestyle was not his and that you were more of a night owl. This doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t tease you from time to time about it.

You rubbed your hand over your tired eyes and groaned into the phone:

“No...I was...eating...is there a problem?”

“You left your sweater in my car yesterday. I thought I could come give it back to you after training.”

Your brain took a few seconds to understand his words but when it did, your eyes opened wide and you jumped to your feet, scurrying toward the front door.

“You’re already here?”

“Well, I was in the neighborhood and I thought I could stop by. I also brought breakfast since I thought you would have just waken up…”

He sounded almost apologetic as if he had dragged you of bed. Your heart stammered into your chest and a stupid grin curled up your lips. Sweet, selfless Miguel. How did he manage to always make your cold demeanor crumble? That was a mystery to you.

You opened the door and there, stood Miguel, a large bag of edibles in his arm, your sweater perfectly folded in a small bag while he was still holding his phone. And as if the sight of him wasn’t sweet enough already, he was still wearing his athleisure clothes, ie a tank top and loose grey shorts. His skin was covered in a thin sheet of sweat and his brown locks were stuck to his temples and the back of his neck. A treat for the eyes.

The moment he saw you in your sleepwear, he turned off his phone and a small blush crept up his face. You were only wearing a short and a tank top but he didn’t mind. That was...quite a nice view.

“Well, you are definitely awake.”, he joked quietly as you made sign for him to enter the apartment. “I was afraid that I would wake you up.”

You could definitely wake me up anytime you want.

“No, don’t worry, it’s fine.” You grabbed the bag he was handing you with your sweater inside. It was neatly folded, even better than what you would usually do to your clothes. You might as well invite him over to share breakfast with you. Miguel gladly accepted and followed you to the kitchen and as much as he tried to be a gentleman his eyes would always end up following the sway of your hips and the very appealing bounce of your butt. He started to feel a bit tight in his shorts and this feeling only increased when he noticed that you weren’t wearing a bra under your top. He cleared his throat, trying to chase those thoughts away; it was too early in the morning for this.

“I found this small french bakery down the block and I thought you would like to try these…”, he said while putting down the bag on the central island of the kitchen. The buzzing sound of the coffee machine filled the air just when you replied to him:

“Oh yeah, I actually wanted to try this one. Thanks.”

And now your nipples were pointing under the shirt.

Great.

This definitely didn’t help the situation down his pants and he wisely chose to advert his gaze...only to fall on the dreaded picture he hoped you would never hear about. A rush of color filled up his cheeks and he was practically sure he wasn’t half-hard or hard at all anymore. What was this thing doing here?

You turned around to put his mug of coffee down the counter and that’s when you noticed where his eyes were. Not on you, unfortunately, but on the calendar.

Shit!

You didn’t even bother to put it on the right month. Hopefully Miguel would take it as it is, a compliment. But the moment you saw his brows furrow and his jaw tighten, you had a serious doubt.

“Hum...Miguel?”

He didn’t respond at first and when he looked back in your direction, he still seemed very ashamed, almost mortified. A pink hue was covering his cheeks and the back of his ears. Seems like you were going to have a lot of fun...

“Yes?”

You let the silence last a bit more before replying: “Is there a problem?”

“No. No...why would there be any problem?”

“Because you’re all red in the face suddenly. I was wondering if something was making you feel uncomfortable…”, you asked innocently. At this point of your relationship, he should know better. He should know what this coy tone meant but he still fell in the trap: “It’s just… Where did you even get this calendar?”

“Does it bother you?”

“No...it’s just...a bit tacky. I didn’t think you would like something like this…”, he replied in a sheepish voice. If you knew any better than this, that man was flustered.

“It’s practical.”, you simply reply with a shrug of your shoulders, dismissing the embarrassment in his voice. Miguel awkwardly chuckled: “Then why is it stuck on April?”

“Touché.”, you replied with a sly grin. You then took a sip of your coffee and his eyes wouldn’t leave the shape of your lips molding against the edge of the cup or the way your eyes still looked at him under your lashes, as if you were a cat playing with a mouse. All this little game was making him feel hot under the collar and he nervously ran his hand through his hair.

“Maybe...I just like the picture.”, his eyes were trying to avoid your gaze but they would eventually flutter back to the alluring shape of your silhouette. “Maybe...this is just making me feel curious.”

He didn’t need to ask about what it made you feel curious. Your tone was already giving him enough hints and he could only sheepishly chuckle, almost giggling while the red in his cheeks intensified. “You can’t be serious…”

“What if I am?”

Your blunt answer took him by surprise and you took this short moment to move a bit closer to him but still keeping your hands to yourself, even if the urge to rest them against his body was becoming stronger by the minute.

You had just been thinking about this these last weeks. Ever since you brought that calendar back home, all you could think about was the moment you would get to lay on top of him, run your hands down his abdomen, unto some more exciting territory, crossing every single line. The image of his body would haunt you during your alone time, making you wish it was his hands bending you, making you scream and turning you into some drained but satisfied mush.

His breath faltered when your fingers hovered above the soft cotton of his sweater. The fabric clung to his body, drawing out the shape and relief of his build silhouette, all in sharp angles and dips like some statue.

“Maybe I want to see a bit more..."

Your fingers trailed down his torso, from his chest to his abdomen and you could feel the way his heartbeat quickened as well as the way his body tensed and arched into your touch, yielding against your fingers. The hard contour of his silhouette was being traced, made more noticeable for your eyes and your eyes only. Your hungry gaze made him feel wanted in a way he didn’t know was possible; a special talent of yours. Standing there, still covered in sweat and fresh out of his training, he couldn’t believe you still wanted him. And yet…

“You want to see more?”, he asked under his breath and with a quick nod from you, he took your hands guided them over his body.

Your fingers soon slipped under the fabric of his tank top and you rose on your tip toes in an attempt to kiss him. Given the height difference between you, he quickly opted for the easiest solution. His arms scooped you up and placed your body on top of the counter, shortening the distance between you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you didn’t waste a single second to pull him closer to you but you still managed to surprise him. He was not expecting for your lips to aim for his shoulder rather than his mouth and with a low groan, he welcomed the caress of your lips onto his skin as you traced your way up his neck.

The pressure of his fingers grew tighter on your sides as this make-out session turned steamier. Your nipping on his neck made him react almost immediately. His fingers slid down lower on your body and soon gave your ass a firm squeeze. He needed to get you out of these shorts and quickly. Your soft whimper onto his neck told him he was doing everything right and his hands kept kneading your soft rear while your own diligent hands removed his top, leaving your eyes free to feast on the sight of his after-work body. Every word you uttered seemed to get straight to his cock as he felt it practically twitch every time you would breathe a bit harder on his skin or tell him how nice he felt, how gorgeous he was.

“Lay down...just...get on your back…”, his breath was a bit more labored as he helped you lying down the counter. You were pinned under him when his hands finally lifted up your top, exposing your perky breasts. He had spent so much time fantasizing about them, this morning only they had been on his mind almost all-workout. Last night during your date, he couldn’t get his eyes out of them as soon as you would look away and they had been tempting too much since he entered your apartment. The perky mounds stuck out, resting on your chest like a crown, the tanned lines from your bikini making them stand out even more proudly. After a few seconds spent admiring them, he dipped his head onto the soft cleavage presented to him, not doing anything else than resting his face there at first.

Your hands stroked his hair, pulling him closer into your embrace and you began grinding your hips onto his aching cock. The shape of his erection was visible under the grey fabric as it strained against it, begging for release. He would wait. He always waited. There was no need to rush with someone like you. Even when he was alone, he would always take his time fantasizing about the endless possibilities of your body rather than bringing himself to climax quickly. There was no such thing as a quickie with him and today was no exception. He will focus on every single part of your body, take his time to taste it, to enjoy it to the fullest...no matter if it made his dick throb and swell with more and more arousal. No matter if he would end up practically whimpering while getting his face stuck in your pussy later.

Miguel nuzzled his face further onto your breasts. His face was smothered between your breasts, his lips occasionally licking and sucking on their plump flesh. Low growls would escape his lips every time his lips circled around one of your perky nipples, sucking in deeply, swirling his tongue around the rigid nub and the puffy areola. His hands were holding your waist where the hem of your pants slopped down, exposing your waist.

“Eres tan deliciosa...can’t wait to get more of you...”

His nose trails down the line of your abdomen, running over smooth skin while his thumbs rub in circle the skin over your sides. He tugged at the hem of your shorts with his teeth, silently pleading to get more of you.

“May I?” You groaned a small “yes” and he finally pulled down your shorts. When he nuzzled his nose onto your panties, pressing it right where your slit would be, your hips bucked. He giggled at your eager response.

“Sorry about that.”, you quickly apologized but he dismissed the said apology with a caress of his hand on your thigh, soothing your worry.

“There’s no need to worry.” He then pressed a soft kiss under your belly button and hummed, his breath warm on your skin: “You’re such a needy little thing sometimes.”

“I’m not needy.”, you replied with a growing blush.

“Mhh...who’s been keeping a calendar of half-naked men in her kitchen again?” His brow cocked in a teasing manner as he trailed a line of warm kisses all the day down to your entrance. Your breath hitched and you arched your back in response to his teasing:

“Are you going to remind me of this for a long time?”

“Yes.”

His hooked finger pushed your panties aside and he basked in the musky scent of your arousal, watching how your pubes glistened with arousal.

“Someone feeling jealous over there?”, you teased him which only earned you a chuckle.

“I have no reason to be jealous…”, his hands slipped under your butt and he lifted up a bit your body until your legs were wrapped around his neck, “...and I’m going to show you why.”

His lips dived into your parted legs, his mouth molding to the shape of your vulva as he suckled in deeply. Your essence spurted into his mouth, making you writhe slightly. His nose rubbed onto your clit while he swirled his tongue deeper between your slick folds. His cock was aching down his sweatpants, burning to be free and soon replacing his tongue.

As he kept lapping and sucking on your cunt, he slowly edged you until you couldn’t hold it anymore. The sound of you moaning and cooing his name was the sweetest reward he could get for his hard work; until you came undone. He could feel how close he was too to just climax, here and there on the spot. The sight of you, spread on the counter with your clothes ruffled and your puffy clit, throbbing and begging for more.

“Feeling good, mama?”, he softly asked while placing a soft peck on your thigh.

“Bedroom now.” Your enthusiasm made him giggle again and he kept placing soft pecks all over your face and shoulders while carrying you to the bedroom. Your eager hands slipped under the hem of his sweatpants and tried to grab a hold of his butt. As much as you liked this calendar, it was a shame it didn’t pay proper homage to the glorious work of art this man’s buttocks were.

Miguel finally let you go down the bed and slipped out of his sweatpants. He was rummaging through the nightstand, looking for the pack of condoms you always kept there.

You watched in awe as he tore open a condom and swiftly lowered his boxers. His cock sprung free, the tip almost slapping his lower belly as some precum already dripped from the swollen tip. His fingers quickly put on the condom and when he caught your gaze on him, he stopped, a sheepish smile on his lips: “Everything alright?”

“That was just the sexiest thing I’ve ever see you doing.” A sympathetic look took over his features as he crawled on top of you, peppering your face with soft kisses. It was probably the first time you’ve had a boyfriend who didn’t reluctantly put on a condom and who accepted that you just couldn’t put an IUD or take the pill. This was as refreshing as it was sexy and the delicate attention always made you feel grateful, no matter how much Miguel would tell you that it was nothing.

“How do you want to do this?”, he asked with his lips still pressed on your temple.

“I want to see you.” Your response seemed to please him a lot because he quickly obliged and soon you found yourself attached to one another, with his arms pinning you onto the bed while he kept moving back and forth between your warm walls. Every move he made was followed by a deep, throaty grunt on his side.

“Feeling good, sweetheart?”

You could only moan back at his question, wrapping yourself tightly around him as he was thrusting deeper into you. The heat between your two bodies was becoming unbearable as time went on and it only became stronger when he slipped his hand down your stomach and began toying with your clit.

“Gonna cum for me, okay sweetie? I want to make you feel so good…” The slight desperation in his tone didn’t go unnoticed on your side. He wanted nothing more but for you to remember this moment every time you would look at his picture. He wanted you to be as whipped for him as he was for you, completely and utterly transfixed.

“Miguel…” He knew what it meant when you cried out his name like that. It meant you were close and he made his mission to guide you through it with his fingers rubbing circles faster on your already sensitive and swollen clit.

“That’s it baby...just like that…”

Your body tensed and your grip on him tightened as he felt you reaching your climax. His praise didn’t stop soon and he kept placing soft pecks all over your face, especially around your furrowed brows, one thing he found adorable in these moments.

It took the two of your some time to calm down after this moment. Miguel had brought you back a towel from the bathroom to clean yourself and two glasses of water. It was a bit hot since it was the middle of the summer and he knew too well the risks of dehydration. However this didn’t stop him from cuddling with you, his arms tightly wrapped around your body, one hand tracing the curve of your hips, following the slope of it like a traveler climbing up a mountain. His eyes marveled at your body in silence, looking at the way the sweat had coated your skin. When he kissed the sensitive spot of skin behind your ear and playfully nuzzled his face into it, you squirmed a bit. But it was not enough to escape his grip and you just managed to rub yourself even more against him:

“Miguel...it’s already too hot. And I’m gross like that.”

Your words could have as well be heard by a deaf because he didn’t stop his kissing. In fact he even nuzzles his face lower on your body, his nose following the curve of your clavicle while he mumbled:

“You’re not gross. You’re perfect like that…”

You were glad he didn’t catch the blush that was blooming on your cheeks: “It’s still too hot for that…” But your protest wasn’t very convincing and none of you moved a single inch. It would soon be too hot to go out or even do anything at this point and your body succumbed to the promise of a lazy, indolent afternoon, resting in the arms of your lover.

================================================

Notes: Thanks for reading this story! I hope you liked it. it's been a while since I've written smutty one-shot so I needed some time to get back on track. Hope it doesn't feel too awkward.

🌻🌻🌻

My masterlist

[cod-sins]

could you write cod hcs for a female reader who's 5"9 and a bit chubby? thank you <33333

.ೃ࿐ Format: Hcs

.ೃ࿐ Paring: König. Ghost.

.ೃ࿐ Reader: Female. Chubby.

.ೃ࿐ Ratings: SFW. A bit too fluffy on Simon's part.

[A/N: FIRST FEMALE READER REQUEST LET'S GOOO! Also I'm 6'0-6'1 so to me anything under that is short LOL.]

KÖNIG

Oh my god he's so in love with you.

König may be a 6'10 killing machine who wouldn't hesitate to end a person's life but he's absolute putty in your hands. He treats you like goddess always spoiling you with whatever items you want.

He isn't all that into PDA, he'll hold your hand or maybe put an arm around you if he's feeling particularly antsy/jealous but at home he's a completely different person.

He loves to lay in bed with you, on his side while you just talk about your day. His eyelids would be low and there would be a soft smile on his face while you were talking. If you asked him if he was paying attention he would repeat back every single word you said—not missing a beat.

Thinks your chubbyness is cute. Thinks your whole body is cute to be honest.

König can sometimes get really cheesy and mushy over you but he refrains from taking action because he's scared he'll come off as overbearing.

He loves to softly tease you. Thanks to the hot weather he'll walk around the house shirtless flaunting his body and calling you out whenever you stare.

"And that's how Horangi and I were able to defeat an entire squadron without taking a single hit!" He says proudly while looking at you for a reaction. You however were to busy staring at his abs to notice.

"Maus." "Huh?" "My eyes are up here." He says with a dumb smirk on his face. He watches as you as shift positions—to flustered to look at him.

König closes the jar lids way too tight, he doesn't do it to be annoying he's just adamant on keeping his food fresh and preserved. It wouldn't be a problem until he's deployed and you can't open a jar of jelly to make a sandwich.

He also does this with things in the pantry/cabinet. König is still not use to living with a person who's shorter than him so you'll have to remind him to not put things on the tallest shelf.

He loves to pick you up and twirl you around.

GHOST

Ghost loves to loom over you. Even if you're doing mundane tasks such as washing the dishes or folding laundry, he'll lean on the wall or just stand right behind you watching. He notices every little detail in what you do.

He thinks the height difference between you two is cute. He loves when you wear his clothes because they're always too big and they manage to swallow you whole. He never comments on it he'll just stare at you admiring you.

His favorite dates with you are quiet ones. Like picnic dates on a sunny afternoon away from other people or driving to a diner that he really likes [they have those in the UK right?].

If you guys are watching TV together he'll nitpick everything the characters do. "He didn't even turn the safety off." "His gun still had bullets left why did he toss it away?" "If they were on the field they would be dead." Remind him that it's fake and he'll temporarily shut up.

One of his favorite memories of you was on a short weekend. It was right before he was deployed and he spent it with you, laying in bed, drinking and eating a bunch of takeout that you two ordered. You spent that night just holding him and playing with his hair, softly rocking back and forth while he had his head on your chest listening to your heartbeat.

Ghost fondly remembers every word you said to him even if you don't he still thinks about it when he's on the field or when it's early in the morning and you're still asleep.

Ghost loves the way his body engulfs you whenever you hug him. Sometimes he'll squeeze you just a little bit too tight to make sure you're real and not some beautiful illusion his mind made up.

Requests are closed, but you may still send them in.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!

[italiansteebie]

I could teach you waking up in my t-shirt.

also on ao3 (preferred format) 2.3k Words

Steve Harrington has a really cool T Shirt. 

It was the exact type of shirt no one would expect him to wear, it was soft, and worn, and the design looked hand made, and sometimes there was a long, dark, curly, strand of hair stuck to it, like the person who made it left a piece of themselves there. 

Dustin didn’t know where he got it, or how someone like Steve came across a shirt like this, but any time he asked about it, the teen got… Defensive. 

Once Dustin asked Steve if he could borrow it, and Steve freaked out, like properly freaked out. So he stopped asking about it. It was a little strange how protective Steve was over the shirt, and how he never seemed to wear it to school, or outside of his house. He had to wear it somewhere though, because more often than not that long, dark, hair would be present, and Dustin knows for a fact Steve washes the shirt. 

So where did he get it?

What exactly does “HellFire Club” mean? 

Is it a band?

And Dustin asked all these questions only to be met with a nervous silence from Steve, which was unlike him. So, he stopped asking. There were more pressing matters than Steve’s shirt, like demodogs and Russians under the mall, and the fact that the girl Steve works with somehow knows him better than Dustin, all of a sudden. 

He’s not jealous, though. Well. Not that jealous. But why does she get to know where the shirt came from, and not him? It’s Steve’s biggest mystery, and it was well kept. At least, well kept from him. He remembers the day clearly. He walked into Scoops Ahoy with Steve who already happened to be in his work uniform. He usually changes at work to avoid walking through the mall looking like a Naval monstrosity. He watches the way Robin Buckley smirks, like she’s let in on a secret, “No Hellfire shirt today, Steve-o? Trouble in paradise?” she asks slyly. “Haha. Shut up, Robin.” Steve replies through his teeth, strained. Dustin whips his head around to face Steve. “You talked to her about the shirt? C’mon, Steve! We’re friends!” Dustin whined. Steve pushed his head away, “You’re like, 5, this is grown up talk. Now get back to your mom, she’s gonna freak if you’re late for camp check in.” Dustin sighed, “Whatever. See you later, Steve!” They hugged briefly and Dustin left, the shirt and what Robin Buckley said about it, still rocking around in his brain. 

But then Dustin got back from camp, with a big ass ham radio, a new, very real, girlfriend, and a Russian interception. And suddenly, the t-shirt didn’t seem all that important. In fact, Dustin forgot about it until one fateful day. 

The first day of highschool. 

There he was in all his glory. 

Eddie Munson, and guess what he was wearing.

The shirt.

Steve’s shirt.

So Dustin made it a point to seek the guy out, and in his mission he found that HellFire was not a band, but a DnD club. And that only made him more confused, did Steve secretly belong to a party? And that’s why he never played with them? No way. The betrayal. 

So, Dustin infiltrates the group. 

Along with Mike, and Lucas. 

Because it’s a DnD group, and well… Will’s gone, and they still wanted to play. 

And they become a part of the group. 

It’s fun, and the way Steve’s eyes almost bug out of his head when he sees all of them wearing his shirt is absolutely hilarious. 

Dustin keeps the whole “shirt debacle” to himself. He knows that Steve was in HellFire and didn’t tell any of them. He decided to let him keep his dignity, and put the whole mystery behind him. The only strange thing was, that whenever he brought up Steve during their sessions, the rest of Hellfire got… Weird. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant would smile slyly in Eddie’s direction and Eddie would blush. Did they have some type of falling out? Eddie never seemed to want to talk about Steve, and Steve never seemed to want to talk about Eddie OR HellFire. Why were they pretending not to know each other? It was weird. 

Steve would pick them up from sessions, he and Eddie would share a short wave back and forth, and that was the end of it. It was still weird that Eddie’s hair seemed to get tangled in Steve’s shirt, even though Steve didn’t go to the meetings anymore. In fact, now that Dustin joined, Steve didn’t seem to wear the shirt at all anymore. 

So another mystery was upon him.

But then a cheerleader died, and no one could find Eddie. 

And all of a sudden his face was plastered on the news, his name becoming synonymous with ‘Satan’ and ‘murderer’ which Dustin thought was ridiculous. Eddie Munson was not a violent person, not by any means, in real life. As a dungeon master he could be pretty merciless, but. That was just a game. 

And the newest mystery revolving around Steve and Eddie was put on the back burner.

They found Eddie a few hours later in Reefer Rick’s boathouse, a suggestion made by Steve, the stress too high to consider how he could even know that. But then there was a bottle pressed to his jugular and sorry Eddie, but he needs Steve alive for this. So he pleads until Eddie drops the bottle, Steve’s eyes reading more concern than fear, but Dustin would think about that later. He watches Eddie as Eddie watches Steve be comforted by Robin, wiping the stray tears away, looking back at Eddie with a look that Dustin thought Steve could only give to girls… 

Unfortunately, as entertaining as it was, Steve’s love life was not the hot topic of the moment. So he moved on, and the events unfolded in succession of disaster, like they usually do when the upside down rears its ugly head. And all of a sudden Steve is telling them not to be cute, and Eddie says ‘Make him Pay,’ in a tone that anyone could hear, means something different. 

—

Nancy delivered the final blow, and Vecna was down. But there was a pit in Steve’s stomach. Something was very, very wrong. So he ran. Nancy and Robin were hot on his heels, shouting for him to slow down but he couldn’t. The scene came into view and Steve couldn’t breathe. Dustin was sobbing over Eddie’s prone body, bats from hell surrounding them. 

Steve could only run faster, he reached them, dropping to his knees. 

“Eds,”

“Stevie,”

“Don’t do that Munson. We’re getting you out of here. I swear to god. If you die, I’m going to fucking kill you.”  

And through his grief clouded brain, Dustin knew Steve meant what he said. 

From that moment on it was a blur, Nancy and Robin helped Dustin limp towards the gate, only looking back to see Steve lifting Eddie from the ground in what looked like sheer will. They’re going to make it out. He can feel it. He’s got to figure out the mystery. And maybe that was a stupid thought, but he was only 15, and that was what gave him hope. 

The gate that split in the Munson trailer was beginning to close, and it was a fight to get through, Dustin didn’t get to see the end though, because when his broken leg was met with the force of hitting the right side up, he passed out. 

—

He woke to a steady beep and a pressure holding his leg in place. 

He cracked open his eyes to see his mom sitting in the plastic hospital chair next to his bed, reading a book. 

“Mom?”

“Dusty,” She gasped, pressing the Call button, and reaching to grab his hand.

“E- Eddie?”

“I- I’m sorry baby.” And for a second, Dustin’s heart dropped, “He’s still in surgery. That earthquake really did a number on him. The doctors think he’s going to pull through.” Dustin breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, and Steve was admitted for his wounds. He’s in the next room over. They’re going to put Eddie with him as soon as he’s in the clear, Steve’s request.” With the news that his friends were okay, and the soothing motion of his mom brushing her hand through his hair, he fell asleep. The next time he woke up it was by a doctor, getting him ready to be discharged with strict orders of rest.

He ended up moving from his room, to making a home in Steve’s room. 

It was weird to see Steve in the hospital, unmoving, hair flat against his forehead. It almost brought tears to his eyes to think about his brother like that, the only thing keeping him together was that Steve was here, awake, and the heart monitor’s beeps were steady and reassuring. 

—-

It had been a few days, Steve’s wounds were healing nicely, and he was allowed to go home. 

Eddie had been cleared from the ICU and moved to a long stay ward. 

He was still asleep, but the doctors said that was his body’s way of healing. That’s what they said about Max too. They were confident both of them would eventually wake up.

Dustin had expected to see Steve around the hospital after his discharge, checking Max, and keeping up with his own check ups. What he didn’t expect to see was him and Eddie’s uncle Wayne in what looked like a heartfelt embrace. He didn’t really mean to eavesdrop, but he also didn’t move away. “He’s gonna wake up, son. I know he’s strong. And I know you’ll be right there waitin’ for him.” Wayne's gruff voice floated through the quiet hospital. Dustin didn’t realize Steve knew Wayne like that but, he guesses it’s from Steve’s secret HellFire days. 

He shook off the initial confusion and went to join the two men in Eddie’s room. They would sit and talk. Talk about Eddie, Steve’s interactions with weird customers, how Wayne was settling in to the new government provided house. Anything. Just to fill the room with sound, to let Eddie know they were there when he was ready to wake up. 

Dustin knew it was going to be an emotional day when Eddie woke up for real. 

He’d been opening his eyes, and saying one word responses for about a week now, and the doctors predicted he’d be starting to wake up for longer periods of time real soon. 

“S-tv?”

“Eddie! You’re awake, do you feel okay, can I get you any-”

“Slow down, boy.” Wayne said, resting a hand on his shoulder, Dustin pausing as he does. “Any pain, Ed?” 

“No,”

“Good. They got you on the good stuff.” Wayne chuckled. 

“Steve?” Eddie mumbled, and Dustin was confused for a moment, but he thought that Eddie was probably concerned about the guy that carried him out of hell. Dustin watched as Wayne smiled, “Your boys gone to get some coffee and chips for the kid and I. He’ll be back real soon.” His boy? Interesting… 

Dustin was close to figuring out the mystery, there was just one thing he was missing. He knew these things took time, but this was taking forever, when was he going to figure this out? And right as he finished that thought, Steve walked in. He handed Wayne his coffee and tossed Dustin his chips, floating around the room on autopilot. Wayne and Eddie both watched with familiar fondness, as though they had seen this before. Steve finally let his eyes drift over to Eddie, who was wide awake now, smiling in his direction. “Eddie.” He breathed, eyes wide. 

“Hey, Stevie.”

“Oh, you bastard! I told you not to be cute! I told you,” Steve’s voice cracked, 

“C’mere.”

Steve slumped over to Eddie, basically crawling into the bed with him, and cried against his chest. Dustin felt as though the solution to the mystery was about to be revealed, were they related? No way. Best friends? Secret Best friends? Perhaps… 

“I told you,”

“I know you did, baby.”

Wait. Baby?

And y’know, he shouldn’t have been so surprised at what happened next. 

“I hate you,”

“No you don’t.”

“You’re right,” Steve sighed, leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips, savoring the sweet reunion. That is until Dustin breathed in sharply, trying to be quiet so as not to disturb them, but instead choked on a piece of potato chip. He coughed and hacked, and Wayne clapped him on the back and handed him some water, and there was snot and tears running down his face. “Sorry,” He said hoarsely, still partially choking. “I didn't mean to ruin the moment I just-” Steve cut him off with a smile, “You finally put two and two together, huh? Guess I owe you five bucks, Eds.” Dustin watched them carefully. “What?” He asked, only slightly embarrassed at the implication that the two had bet on him. 

“Me and Stevie bet that it’d take us kissing in front of you for you to figure out we’re together. He thought you’d figure it out before that.” Eddie said, smiling through his words. 

“I thought you were smarter than that, Dust. You really let me down,” Steve teased. 

Eddie sighed, “When you saw me in the shirt I thought I had lost for sure, but you never really said anything about it.”

“I thought that Steve might’ve been secretly a part of HellFire…” He trailed, looking down sheepishly. 

Wayne barked out a laugh, “It’s okay, kid. I was bettin’ that you’d figure it out at their weddin.’”

And Dustin gasped at that. “Mr. Uncle Wayne, I'm hurt,” He said dramatically, a hand clutching at his chest. Wayne sighed, “Boy, you are just about as bad as Eddie.”

And both Steve and Wayne shared a good, long laugh when Eddie and Dustin let out simultaneous “Hey!”s. Dustin shook his head, but let a smile rest on his face. This was a better outcome than he could’ve hoped for. 

And if he’d heard Steve and Eddie’s “I love you’s” whispered back and forth as they all settled in for sleep, well. 

He’d just keep that to himself. 

[redgoldsparks]

October Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

Pageboy by Elliot Page

This has been on my to-read list ever since it came out, and I finally picked it up. This book is an honest, sometimes painfully honest, accounting of Elliot Page's life up until his decision to come out as trans. He grew up in Canada, the child of divorced parents, with a hostile step-mother, an emotionally manipulative father, and overworked mother who initially did not accept his queerness. He started acting in elementary school and found it a freeing creative outlet, even when he hated the overly-girly clothing the roles often forced him into. Like many people who start in the film industry very young, he was taken advantage of sexually by adults who should have kept him safe. These experiences are written about less graphically than the blistering gender dysphoria and numbing disassociation that followed Elliot from his teens into his twenties. He threw himself into movie projects and love affairs, running away from a secret that nearly ate him alive. I'm so grateful that was eventually able to come out, because it really sounds like staying in the closet might have killed him. This book is not written chronologically; chapters center on themes, projects, or relationships. I understand that choice while also wishing that more of then teen chapters had been placed earlier in the book- sometimes the way the book kept slipping backwards in time felt a time bit repetitive. But it also felt honest to the experience of someone who kept backsliding in his ability to be honest with himself, until hitting the rock bottom of mental health, when there was no other choice but to be true.

Woe: A Housecat's Story of Despair by Lucy Knisley

Given the square format, I thought this was going to be a picture book but when it arrived from the library it was a full color 200 page collection of all the instagram comics author Lucy Knisley ever drew about her much loved fluffy orange cat, Linney. These comics are deeply relatable for any cat owner. I'd read pretty much all of them online before but I enjoyed seeing them all again in this collection.

The Curse of Chalion by Lois McMaster Bujold read by Lloyd James

Cazaril was once the son of a noble family, entrusted with defending a strategically important castle during one of Chalion's many wars. Then the castle was sold to the enemy, and Caz was not ransomed, but instead forced to serve as a galley slave on an enemy ship. Finally free, he walked across two countries to reach a town where he worked in his youth, and enters the stronghold wearing clothes he took off a corpse. All he wants is a lowly position, maybe in the kitchen or the stables, where he can earn a bit of bread and sleep warm at night. Instead, he is given the position of tutor to the Royesse Iselle, half-sister of the current king of Chalion. He begins the work of teaching her multiple languages, history, geography, politics, and how to tell when a man is lying to her. All of these skills and more are needed when she and her brother, the heir to Chalion's thrown, are called to court. Cazaril is required to travel with them, even though he knows that the man who betrayed him serves there as the king's high chancellor. And worse yet, he discovers that the whole royal family is under a generations-long curse. This was my second read of this book, the first one being back in 2008 so I remembered almost nothing. It's a clever and well constructed fantasy, with the twists and turns I expect and love from a Lois McMaster Bujold novel. This time around, the age gap romance (between a 20 year old and a 35 year old) made me raise my eyebrows. It fits thematically into the story but also, why.

The Ribbon Skirt by Cameron Mukwa

This is a gentle queer comic for younger readers. Ten year old Anang decides they want to make a ribbon skirt to wear to an upcoming powwow. A ribbon skirt is a piece of celebratory clothing typically worn by Anishinaabe women, and Anang isn't entirely sure what their friends or community will think about them wearing one. But the spirit world encourages Anang. The lakes, the crows, turtles, waves, and trees participate in helping Anang gather all of the supplies they need, despite some light resistance from other characters in the story. Short and sweet, this is lovely introduction to two-spirit and nonbinary identities for a kid who hasn't heard of them yet, and an affirming story for a young person who already inhabits a gender-nonconforming space!

Tokyo These Days vol 2 by Taiyo Matsumoto

Shiozawa continues to attempt to build a collection of artists for a new manga magazine. He visits old friends, writers whose talent he's loved for years. Some of them have retired from the business. Some are busier than ever. Some love the direction their work has gone since Shiozawa last saw them; others believe their work has become soulless and commercial. I love how the authors are portrayed as unique, flawed humans with human histories. They have families, disabilities, insecurities, dreams. We meet Chosaku's ex-wife and daughter on a weekend visit. Hayashi continues to struggle with her main artist, Aoki, who struggles with insomnia and flees back to his hometown. Creating manga is depicted as half a calling, half an affliction.

Death At Morning House by Maureen Johnson, read by Katherine Littrell 

This is more of a 3.5 or 3.75 but rounded up because it was queer and out of my extreme affection for Maureen Johnson's murder mysteries. This one introduces a new character, Marlowe, who gets into a spot of trouble with some accidental arson while on a date with the girl of her dreams, and then runs away to an absurd summer job on one of the thousand islands on the St Lawrence River. Marlowe joins a group of five other teens who already all know each other to serve as a tour guide for Morning House, the mansion of a rich doctor and eugenicist who summered with his seven children on the island in the 1920s- that is, until two of them died there. And the island has seen another death, more recently. Marlowe didn't show up to solve crimes, but if she wants to make it home at the end of the summer, she'll have to. Similar in tone to the Truly Devious series, this book was a very easy and fun listen. I wish the eugenics thread had either been cut, or better developed, but Marlowe is a delightful character to follow and if this book gets a sequel I will definitely listen to it.

If You’ll Have Me by Eunnie 

This is an extremely sweet and delightfully illustrated sapphic romance, which only partly hinges on a misunderstanding as the main conflict. Momo is a shy college freshman, a rule follower, a hard worker who didn't date or party at all in high school. She runs into PG, seemingly mid-hookup with a friend of a friend who claimed to be too sick to come to class. After that first encounter, Momo seems to see PG everywhere, and each time with a different girl. Clearly, PG is a player and also in a completely different league than Momo. Except, when a cautious new friendship begins to develop between them, PG seems unfailing chivalrous and polite. Which is the real PG? And how much trouble will Momo get into if she lets her feelings become something more? I really enjoyed the bright color palette and confident line art.

Tokyo These Days vol 3 by Taiyo Matsumoto

I appreciated so deeply how this series represented artists wrestling with their creative practices. Some draw steadily for years, with a similar quality level of work. Others struggle with writers block, family tragedies, self esteem, rough deadlines, with falling out of love with their stories, or their editors, or the time commitment of being a full time author. This series also shows how a patient and support editor can absolutely made an artists career- or how the lack of one can destroy it. This is such a human slice-of-life story, and I liked its open but hopeful ending.

Gay the Pray Away written and read by Natalie Naudus 

Seventeen year old Valerie wishes she could pick up any book at the library without fear, wishes she could pick her own clothes, wishes she was allowed to hang out unsupervised with friends, watch movies, or just spend time on the internet. But her family is part of a very extreme Christian community which home schools their children, limits the media they are allowed to access, controls their movement, wardrobes, and social lives. Valerie is expected to join family Bible studies daily, volunteer at the Church, and marry a boy in the community shortly after her eighteenth birthday. She isn't excited about any of this- in fact, she spends much of her time daydreaming or bored nearly to tears- but what else can she do? Then she finds a queer book with a fairly nondescript cover at the library. And a new girl- a girl with short hair, a girl who wears jeans- joins the Church. Valerie is captivated. The new girl represents a window into freedom and Valerie wants as much of that freedom as she can hold. I have some critiques about how this book ended, but I'm also very aware that I am not part of its target audience. Hopefully this book will find its way into the hands of teens who need it.

Gender Studies by Ajuan Mance

A slim but insightful collection of memoir comics on the intersecting identities of being Black, queer, gender nonconforming, and a nerd. These stories are thought provoking, funny, and delightful well drawn.

Clever Girl: Jurassic Park by Hannah McGregor

McGregor turns the film Jurassic Park over in their hands, like a piece of amber, to examine it from all sides and finds a story packed with possibilities of liberatory, queer, and feminist readings. From thoughts on the monstrous feminine, reproductive control, missing mothers, and found family, this text weaves together a rich tapestry of threads. I completely understand now why this film (which I half-watched once at a distracting party, but now want to revisit) has becomes such an enduring classic. The ending note advocates for the building of networks of mutual aid and care during and after apocalypse, something I need more and more desperately in this damaged world.

House of Women by Sophie Goldstein 

Four women arrive on a jungle planet via spaceship with a mission to create a school and educate/ tame the indigenous species of beings there. Like most colonizers, they think they are doing something good by bringing the light of civilization into the supposed darkness of the wilderness. Like most colonizers, they completely fail to understand the people they have come in contact with the project ends in devastating violence. The art in this book is extremely elegant, with powerful black and white design and pattern work illustrating a believable alien world. If you've ever read The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell, this is story has some similarities in tone and theme but much shorter and more condensed, as necessitated by the comics format. It's not a hopeful or kind story, but I thought it was executed extremely well.

Hijab Butch Blues by Lamya H. read by Ashraf Shirazi 

Lamya H weaves together memoir with stories from the Quran, introspection on prophets, myths, histories, and alternate readings, into a compelling whole. As a gender-nonconforming baby queer, Lamya struggled under the oppressive roles and limited options available to them in the Arab speaking country to which their parents moved for work in their childhood. But a lightning strike of realization in a Quran study class- that Maryam could also be read as a depressed lesbian- fed Lamya's imagination with new possibility. Lamya moved to the United States for college and grad school, navigating new friendships with other liberal Muslims and new prejudices against brown bodies, especially bodies wearing hijab. One compelling chapter outlines the nightmare of bureaucratic hoops that need to be jumped through to renew student and work visas; the author compares choosing to stay in the US to staying in an abusive relationship. But Lamya fell for New York City, and for the family, chosen, queer, and blood, that they collected over the years. I really appreciated this book for offering a perspective I'd never read before, and for its fierce insistence that one can absolutely be both Muslim and queer.

Vivian’s Ghost by Hal Schrieve

Holy shit, this comic. I fell head-first into this 350 page scratchy black and white comic and read it all in one wild evening. The story follows a set of very messy trans people, several literally haunted by a violent ghost from their pasts. Collin, Vivian, and Andrew orbited each other as awkward, horny trans teenagers, trying to define the edges of their own identities through sex, alcohol, long tumblr posts, and Rocky Horror shows, mostly without supportive parents. Vivian died at 17. At 26, Collin in a cam boy and weed delivery guy in NYC during the early days of the pandemic; Andrew has de-transitioned, married a man, is trying to get pregnant and has sold quotes to an anti-trans journalist writing opinion pieces about the dangers of minors transitioning. Multiple times while reading this I found myself thinking "a cis person could never have written this;" its so deeply steeped in trans longings, fears, desires, neuroses, rage, yearnings, and hope. It's not an easy or safe story; it doesn't have a fully happy ending. But I consumed it and it consumed me in return. If you are struggling to find this book available in print, it is possible to read the whole story on the author's instagram page.

Breathe: Journeys to Healthy Binding by Maia Kobabe and Sarah Peitzmeier read by Sarah Peitzmeier, Kieran Todd, Blair Baker, Alejandro Antonio Ruiz, Livvie Lin and Kiebpoli Calnek

I finally sat down to listen to the audiobook, which was narrated primarily by my co-author Sarah Peitzmeier along with her research partner Kieran Todd, and the wonderful cast of Blair Baker, Alejandro Antonio Ruiz, Livvie Lin and Kiebpoli Calnek. It was such a pleasure to hear these characters' voices come to life, and see how the workbook and stretching exercise pages were handled! Obviously I am very proud of the print edition which contains my illustrations; but I am so happy that the audiobook exists as well, for anyone who prefers audio (or likes to take in audio and print side by side).

Kochab by Sarah Webb

One day when out skiing, Sonya's scarf is stolen by a flying snow spirit. She chases it deep into the forest and breaks a ski after a reckless jump. Lost without supplies in the dead of winter, Sonya follows the faint trail of light and finds an impossible palace inhabited by one sleeping fire spirit, Kyra. Kyra's home was once bright, full of life and community. Now it is derelict and crumbling, under attack by the forces of ice. This is a slim story, fairy tale-like. I wanted a little more from the plot, given the book's length; but the pages are stunning. Everything from the character movement, background designs, color choices, to dynamic panel layouts impressed me. I know I'll be looking through this book again in the future when I need some visual inspiration.

Buckle Up by Lawrence Lindell

Lonnie's parents are recently divorced, and he's still getting used to splitting time between two different houses- one with his mom and older sister, one with his dad. He's still getting used to being picked up by alternating parents from school, and he's trying to hide these facts from his friends. This short, tender story uses the framing device of these car rides to show Lonnie facing some weighty conversations with his parents. The majority of the book takes place in the car and I really loved seeing how Lonnie learned to speak up for himself, to work through problems, and verbalize his emotions. Highly recommend for elementary school readers, especially ones experiencing big feelings.

How It All Ends by Emma Hunsinger 

Tara was "accelerated" from seventh grade straight into high school at the advice of some of her teachers, but in the first few weeks of school she feels deeply unready. The school is so big, the schedule confusing, the hallways packed, and her end-of-day English class is full of some of the rowdiest, rudest boys she's ever met. Tara would much rather stay at home playing pretend with her baby brother or go back to middle school and take the eighth grade trip to Six Flags that she had to miss. Even with her older sister, already in tenth grade, willing to lend a hand by drawing her school maps, showing her the dating reality TV show everyone is talking about, and taking her to hangouts in the park, Tara is struggling. But there's this girl. A smart, funny, interesting girl, who partners up with Tara for English assignments and laughs at her jokes. Meeting this girl might just be the one thing that makes high school worth it. I had such a fun time with this comic- it's full of whimsical daydream sequences that really show Tara's internal world. I highly recommend this, especially to anyone who felt (or feels) unready to leave childhood and enter teenagerdom.

[amarayys]

DRDT CHP 2 EPISODE 12 SPOILERS!!

OKAY so according to a tweet from DRDTdev apparantly the whole fandom misinterpreted David's words and he actually doesn't remember Xander from before?? which like...it's kind of funny lmao. this means that David is just trying to kill everyone for a person he heard of online and then was friends with for like. a few days. which is really funny to me. .... .... ..... BUT YOU KNOW WHO DOES REMEMBER SOMETHING??????? teruko (I love you teruko but you're so stupidly suspicious). maybe she isn't aware of it, maybe she is, but THIS LINE.

Which, weird enough. But then VERONIKA says

Okay, even weirder. before we begin: 1. i suck at theories. 2. i suck at formatting, too. 3. this was made at like 1 am. so dont count on some points here being particulary sane. 4. Points that are started with "-" are just extra inputs that aren't too relevant, but I thought i should bring up anyway. So. Veronika, of all people, doesn't know about a killing game that happened in the past. You could argue: "But Amari, what if the killing game was covered up/erased from history?" Hm.. maybe, but this has some holes. A past killing game is a weird thing to *not* know about. If Teruko's talking about THH, that was broadcasted (worldwide, I think... but I can't remember. Even if it was only brodcasted in Japan, you'd think the news would spread, especially with the internet.) , you'd think most people, ESPECIALLY Veronika would know about it. We know from Min's bonus episode that students were taught about the tragedy, and someone like Veronika definitely wouldn't forget about a killing game that happened during it easily. If it was another killing game not related to the main dr games (ill explain this more later, I swear) , I'd still imagine people would know about it. I'm going to take a complete guess here and say it's not too unlikely that if a past killing game happened, it was broadcast similar to our current one. Same argument as before, people would know about it. If it wasn't broadcast, I still don't think it would be very easy to cover up a killing game. Remember - Veronika is the Ultimate Horror Fanatic. She is quite literally *THE BEST* at researching and knowing about this stuff. If Veronika doesn't know about it, Teruko, who kind of lives under a rock, (me too , me too.) being the only one as far as we know to remember it is WEIRD. Also, before someone says "what about memory erasure?" that answers Veronika, but why does Teruko know about it? - However, if it was covered up, I think it's quite likely the company who Min mentions in her bonus episode has something to do with it. Why? Cause introducing too many companies and sht would be confusing. Not very strudy arguement, I know, but I have a feeling the company is more connected to this than we think. Teruko knows about a past killing game. Which killing game is Teruko referencing? Is she referencing THH, or something completely separate? Like... a past killing game she was in? Okay, I'm reaching, but hear me out, okay? It's sort of maybe kind of implied that Teruko was in a past killing game.

This line is said by the guy at the start of the prologue (WHICH IM LIKE 90% SURE IS XANDER BUT THAT'S UNRELATED TO THIS.) , after they claim they have to end a killing game. Why do we need to kill sweet, amazing, perfect Teruko? Well, here are some ideas. 1. Teruko is responsible for the past killing game, or is at least the reason it's happening. Not necessarily the mastermind of it, more similar to the theory where the killing game was made to contain Teruko's bad luck (context because yeah). Not necessarily her fault, but she is the reason for it. I'd like to point out that this matches up scarily well with what basically the whole fandom agrees is Teruko's secret.

(How could I even select what secret to be your motive? Just about everything you've done in your life is worth killing for. The killing game is all your fault.) ...oh my. What if the killing game referred to in the secret isn't the current one? To be fair, all the above does match up with if this secret was referring to the current killing game, but I still think it's viable. 2. Teruko did something to someone and that someone wants revenge. What is "something"? Well, it could be again that the killing game is her fault, but probably not. "someone" could be PROLOUGE GUY AGAIN. I have this really weird theory that Teruko is the one who attacked prolouge guy with the fork (aka xander check out this post for clarification) - Technically, David could also be the one wanting revenge, as he also tried to kill Teruko (indirectly, through failing the trial) , but then Xander stabbing Teruko makes no sense. Xander writes future himself a note (the one saying "Kill Teruko Tawaki, again, whole other theory i can talk more on if you want) explaining the attack, and telling him to kill Teruko, as he thinks she is the mastermind or just an unsafe person (which, fair??) - And if we really want to start reaching, Xander is the mastermind and made the killing game in an attempt to kill Teruko. But like... is the killing game necessary? Why not just kill her regularly? Her luck preventing her death, maybe? This entire point is based on theories, though. So probably not lmao. I want to say point 2 but I think realistically I've gotta go with point 1. There's actually some evidence supporting it, unlike point 2. For Veronika's memory, the memory erasure does actually work here. MonoTV probably wanted interesting shit to happen, or it couldn't erase that part of Teruko's memory without her noticing a large gap in her memories and getting suspiscious. Now, let me get some stuff cleared up. I don't think Teruko remembers actually being in a killing game before present time, just that there was one. She brushes her memory off as just not paying attention in history when Veronika denies a killing game happening before this one (though she does hesitate when Veronika points this out - which is VERY weird) so she probably has *some* fuzzy memories regarding the past killing game.

- If my theory of her attacking prologue guy is correct, I don't think she remembers doing it. As i've mentioned way too many times, I think prologue guy is Xander, and she didn't seem wary whatsoever when she first met Xander, which you think she would be if she knew him, let alone attacked him. SUMMARY: 1. Teruko and Xander were in a past killing game together. At some point, Teruko attacks Xander's eye, although we aren't sure why. Xander realises that she's to blame for the killing game, and writes a note to himself, telling him to get rid of Teruko, and then he passes out. 2. Teruko and Xander meet in our current killing game. Teruko doesn't recognise Xander (or she at least doesn't have time to dwell on the faint memories she does have on him before he passes out), and stays around him for a lot of the killing game. Xander's memory was probably erased, but I'm not sure whether he had the note yet or not. 3. Xander goes stabbity stab stab on Teruko, due to the note. he panics, questioning why he made himself stab her. Teruko might have gotten a flash of memories (you know, the saying my life flashed before my eyes when something life threatening happens??), causing her to tell Xander that his plan wont work because she cant die. 4. (this point is straight flavour text) After Teruko wakes up, she might've remembered a bit more about the killing game, although still not the whole story. (playing into why she was so much more distrustful) Maybe she remembered knowing Xander at some point? Nothing too important regarding Teruko's memory happens after this. this summary really sucks, please dont take this too seriously. just some points to keep in mind.

Anddd yeah. That's it. This has so many holes but it's 1 am, I'm tired and cant be bothered to fix them lmao. Just thought I should give my input. I might edit over this tomorrow, who knows.

[andreafmn]

Collision | Chapter 29

Word Count: 3.5K Warnings: bodily harm, self inflicted wounds, mentions of blood

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life is at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

A/N: um, I am so sorry for the trauma this chapter may cause 🫣 strap in, girlies. share it with everyone, if there is a chapter of this story you should read, it's this one

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Confusion overtook (Y/N) when she woke the next morning, the sun still hanging low in the horizon. The walls around her were foreign, the smells were overwhelming, the temperature was uncomfortable. She wasn’t home, and her body knew it.

She stretched the knots from her body, shaking off the sleep that had wound itself in her joints.  Yet, as much as she wanted to remain in the soft and warm bed, she knew the task at hand had to be done as soon as possible. She wanted it to be done as soon as possible.

The longer (Y/N) spent away from LaPush and Forks, the more her mind ruminated on her past. Images of her time with the Cullens bombarded her brain, reminding her of a life lived and lost. It made her heart ache and yearn—something she thought she had moved on from. It made her think of forgiveness, of reconciliation, of regression. She felt her judgment was held hostage and everything she had strived for was going down the drain.

Without giving it much thought, she got up from the bed and got ready, packing everything she brought back up. She wasn’t going to spend a second more in New York than she had to. Her goal was to get Carlisle back to Washington and then go home. That was her plan, and she would do nothing to stray from it.

Esme and Theo were already waiting when she came downstairs, talking in hushed tones until she was in their presence. Their conversation halted as she joined them, and they gifted her warm smiles.

“How’d you sleep?” Theo asked. “Haven’t slept in centuries, but those mattresses are great, huh.”

“Yeah, no, they’re amazing. Definitely not a mattress I could afford,” the girl commented, unsure as to why she had. “But, uh, we should get going. Got a long ride ahead of us.”

“Of course,” Esme smiled as she grabbed their bags. “You can eat your breakfast in the car, and just let us know if we need to make a stop.”

“Sure thing.”

“Let’s do this, then.”

The car ride went by faster than (Y/N) thought it would. Mostly because somewhere along the three-hour ride and the mindless conversation, she had drifted off to sleep. She couldn’t recall when her eyes had closed, but she awoke with a startle when the car rolled to a stop a couple of miles away from the parking lot of the Panama Rocks Scenic Park, deep enough in the forest. Her neck was tight, and her mouth felt dry, but once she saw the green and the grey mingling in an almost endless void, she knew her trip back home was closer than when the day had started.

The park was still closed to the public, and they needed to keep their presence hidden from any onlookers. There wasn’t a way to explain to people why three women were sneaking into the place, much less why Teo of them were glittering under the sun. Though they could have hidden better during the darkness of the night, (Y/N) didn’t have the supernatural ability to see well in the night, and flashlights would definitely give them away.

“Okay, I have a vague idea where Carlisle might be,” Theo said as she pulled a map of the area out. “If he wanted to be ironically poetic, he’d be in the caves in Devil’s Den, but that’s part of the more trafficked area, so I don’t think he would. To be as far away from civilization as he could here, I think he’d settle somewhere along the center—up sixty-foot rock formations.”

“Well, I don’t think my boots are good for a hike like that,” (Y/N) blurted. “It’s going to take me days to check everywhere, and I’m not good at climbing.”

“There is a way we could scavenge the area in maybe an hour or a bit more,” Esme added. “Theo and I can run through, pinpoint his location by his scent, and then carry you there. That way, you won’t have to overexert yourself, and we can get you home as soon as possible.”

“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

“You’d stay with the car,” Theo said. “Be on the lookout for anyone that might come around. And if you have to, move the car away. We won’t take that long, I hope.”

“Great,” the girl muttered as she slumped onto the driver’s seat. “Guess I’ll just wait here, then.”

“You’ll be safer this way, (Y/N),” her friend offered. “The last thing you want is to be clinging onto me for dear life as we run and jump unnatural lengths. You need to save your strength for whatever is to come, okay?” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” she smiled softly. “I’m being prissy for no reason.” 

“It’s okay to be nervous, you know. You’re literally going through a one-in-a-billion situation here, (Y/N). I honestly don’t know how you’re here, but you're still standing. You’re the best of us all.”

“I just can’t stand by while so many people keep hurting,” (Y/N) muttered. “Not anymore. There can’t be any more hate in my heart. I don’t like what it did to me.”

“There could never be anything that could ever dampen your light, (Y/N),” Theo said. “You are one of a kind, and everyone you meet knows it. Those who say they don’t are just lying.”

“Thank you, Theo,” she smiled as warmth spread through her cheeks. “Now, go. I’m not getting any younger here.”

“Lock the doors. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

The vampires disappeared from her sight in the blink of an eye, leaving her alone in the middle of the woods with nothing but the bags and the car to keep her company. She scrolled through the texts on her phone for a while, skipping through message after message of both Sam and Paul. They were begging her to come back home, apologizing for their outburst and their actions, pleading she at least give them a call back.

But she was angry. Not just at them, but at the entire situation. (Y/N) could understand their reason for what they did—her logical mind would not allow her not to see their side of things. They had been tasked with the extraordinary job of protecting the people of LaPush from vampires, stopping anything they deemed a threat to the reservation. They didn’t have a rulebook or many directions on how to fulfill their duties, and they were doing what they thought was best with what little knowledge they had.

Yet, she couldn’t understand why they would think they had any right to meddle in her life and sever ties with people she loved. It was one thing to think that she could be in danger because of the scent of a vampire, but it was another for them to destroy letters from her friend even when she didn’t know the supernatural existed. In their minds, they were protecting her, but the truth was they were cutting her off from the world—from the one person that had made her feel seen in a sea of blue and grey. They had decided (Y/N) would become a nobody in Theo’s life, leaving her wondering for the rest of her life what she had done wrong.

There weren’t many people she had ever connected with in her life—not in a deep and meaningful way. Of course, she had grown up surrounded by people who had loved and cared for her, but she always felt like there was a role she had to fulfill. She had to be strong, she had to be calm, she had to be the smartest in the room, and she was each and every thing people expected because everyone did.

Well, Sam had always seen her as more than intelligent. He’d seen her as his little sister, the girl he had sworn silently to always protect. Even if somewhere along the way, his lines had blurred, and his protections had turned into rules and demands, he had always tried to keep her safe. He could have cared less about the accolades and the academics. Sam simply wanted her happy. At least, for some time, that was all he had cared about.

There had also been Paul, of course. He didn’t care how smart she was or what had happened in her past. He had just wanted a friend. When he had felt the loneliest after the move to LaPush, she had appeared like an answer to a prayer, tripping in front of him with a stack of books from the library that she was taking home. After that fateful day, he had become her shadow while he found his footing in the reservation. And when he gained popularity amongst their peers, he took her under his wing and protected her from anyone that attempted to harm her. Paul had cared enough to see past the surface that everyone admired and had been interested to learn about the girl past the books and the absent dad.

Once (Y/N) had left for Greenfield and was alone again, she didn’t think she’d find someone like him. Someone who wouldn’t care about what she could do but who she was. And then she had found Theo—or Theo had found her. She had changed the trajectory of the girl’s life, helping her down the path of academic excellence and confident living. After Theo, she believed there was nothing she couldn’t do. As long as she invested her time wisely and stopped listening to what others thought, she would be capable of anything.

And, of course, there had been Carlisle. The man who had been able to transform the very fibers of her essence. The man who had not only seen her soul but also her heart. He had shown her all the things she hadn’t known she desired; he made her believe in a life she thought she deserved. What happened at the end… well, the jury was still out on that.

Finally, after a long bout of darkness and pain, Eden had come along. He’d been distant at first, being short and cold with her. But the second the gears had changed, and he saw her truly, he had been a breath of fresh air she didn’t know she needed. Eden was kind and patient, wise beyond his years and understanding. Somehow, he had begun to make her excited to meet someone new. She saw potential in him. She saw possible l…

As she debated getting on the phone and calling him, Theo’s sudden apparition startled the phone out of her hands. “We’ve found him,” she exclaimed. “We’ve finally found him.”

(Y/N) hadn’t noticed that she had let her mind wander for close to two hours. She had fallen down a thought spiral she would not have come out of had it not been for Theodora. The girl jumped out of the car, shaking away the shivers that started running through her veins. This was it. After almost eight months without him, she was about to face Carlisle once more—to save him and bring him home. “How do we do this?” she asked her friend, her voice trembling slightly under her nerves. “Do I just…?”

“Get on my back, (Y/N),” Theo chuckled. “And grab on really tight.”

Running wasn’t an activity (Y/N) partook in very often. As much as she wanted to incorporate the training into her daily life, it was too time-consuming for her already packed schedule. Now, speeding through trees and rock formations while clinging to the back of a vampire at a hundred miles an hour was not what she envisioned for a light run. The cold air of the morning bit at her skin alongside the branches that tried to snag her. Theo did avoid getting her hurt, but just the feeling of leaves smacking against her face was enough to have the girl thinking she’d been wounded.

What had felt like hours to her, where she prayed silently that her strength was enough to keep herself on Theo, had only been a few minutes. The vampire came to a stop at a particularly odd boulder that stood at a little over sixty feet of height and over twenty feet of width from what she could tell. The rocks seemed to mold into each other, creating the illusion of various black holes forming into its sediment. Even in the light of day, it looked tenebrous. The last thing anyone would say of the area was inviting.

“He is not well,” Esme said as she joined them, jumping out from one of the caves. “Wouldn’t even respond to me. No matter what I said, he just stared at the wall. (Y/N)…”

“I know,” the girl sighed defeatedly. “I’m the only one that he will answer to. I can… I can do it.”

“I was going to say you should be careful,” she replied. “We will be just a few feet away, but he’s still stronger and faster than us. Keep your distance.”

“Oh,” (Y/N) muttered in surprise. “I will. Thank you, Esme.”

“Of course,” the woman smiled. “Just give a shout if you need us.”

“Will do.”

“Alright, then,” Theo said. “Back on.”

Theodora went a couple of yards back for a running start, kicking off the ground with a force (Y/N) had never witnessed. As they raised through the air, the girl’s fingers dug into her friend’s shirt, hiding her face in the crook of her neck to avoid looking down. They landed with a soft thud at the entrance of the cave, the heel of her boots echoing through the hollow space.

“Don’t get too close, okay?” Theo worried as she handed (Y/N) a flashlight. “Yell if you need us. And if you can’t, snap your fingers three times.”

“I thought Carlisle had unnatural resistance,” (Y/N) muttered, concern sinking into her veins. “Do you think he would really attack me?”

“He hasn’t fed correctly in far too long,” Esme sighed. “He has always been the strongest out of anyone I know, but paired with heartbreak… well, I just couldn’t tell you what he’s capable of.”

(Y/N) trembled at the thought of what awaited her. A voice in her head told her to turn around and say she wouldn’t help any longer. A voice warned her of the strength and unpredictability she could face. Yet, she couldn’t listen—not when her heart told her to keep moving her feet, one in front of the other. With shaky hands, she pointed the flashlight ahead of her, ignoring the smell of humidity and the cold eeriness that threatened to overtake her.

The girl knew Carlisle had not fed in some time. She also knew what vampires could look like after a prolonged time without blood. But nothing could prepare her from coming face to face with the shell of who her first love used to be.

Sitting against the cave’s walls, Carlisle stared into nothingness. His eyes were as black as coal, his cheekbones had sunken, and the bags under his eyes battled to take over the rest of his face. Long gone was the beautiful marble white of his skin, replaced instead with a putrid gray color. His hair had lost all life, flopping against his dampened skin in matted clumps. The man didn’t even care a drip had settled just above him, falling tauntingly on his head, over and over and over again.

Had (Y/N) not known if he was standing before her that he was alive, she would have been certain she was staring at a terrifying replica of Carlisle. He simply sat, unmoving, unblinking, unresponsive.

(Y/N) tried to speak, but the words seemed to get stuck in her mouth, tasting of bile and rancidness. They scratched the walls of her throat as though he had willed her not to mutter a single sound. Carlisle didn’t want to hear it. Carlisle couldn’t hear it.

But if one thing was clear to the girl, it was that he had to leave the cave. He needed to.

“C-Carlisle?” she managed to croak. His head snapped toward the sound of her voice, and she could have sworn that his neck had cracked like a dry hinge. His dark eyes bore into hers, analyzing the image in front of him. “It’s me, Carlisle. It’s (Y/N). I’ve come to take you home. ”

She wasn’t expecting a triumphant reunion. With all their unresolved feelings, she had prepared herself for a stern talk and flight back home. Instead, Carlisle had jumped from the place he seemed permanently planted in and sped toward her. His hand circled her throat as he pressed her against the cavern’s wall. The rock scratched at her skin through her shirt, and she had to stand on her tiptoes to keep him from being her only support.

“Is this where my delusions have driven me? You’re not real!” he laughed manically. “(Y/N) would never come to take me home. ME! After what I did to her, she would be more than happy to let me rot! I will say, brain, you were far more creative the last time.”

This wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. The crazed look in his eyes told her just how much he’d been suffering on his own, punishing himself for a situation he had not known how to handle. “Carlisle, it’s really me,” she muttered, straining against his hand. “Feel my heartbeat. I’m right here. I want to get you home.”

“I’ve felt and heard your heartbeat a million times. Do you really think you could fool me? ME?! AGAIN?! No. YOU CAN’T FOOL ME!” he continued. His eyes stared at her but could have been looking through her. Yet, something told her as strong as he wanted to appear, had he been human, tears would be streaming down his face. He wasn’t well. He wasn’t Carlisle. “Months and months of the same apparition. This is my way of the cross. I am cursed to live with the memory of the one person I regret ever breaking—the only person who will ever have my heart. You come, and you go; you hurt, and you save; you laugh, and you cry. And I can take it. I can take it all. But not this. Don’t talk about home. There is no home for me. For my home is only where I burnt my own heart to the ground. I torched the thread that held me together to my one reason for being. If God has ever forsaken me, it has been at this moment. If God had ever wanted to punish the abomination that I am, it is now. Don’t talk to me about home.”

Carlisle’s ramblings were nonsensical, but the threat around (Y/N)’s throat was very real. Without meaning to, the man cemented his every word by closing his hand just a little bit closer and closer. She tried to scratch at his arm, meeting the same hard skin she knew—unbreakable. “Car-li-sle,” she croaked. “Stop. It’s me.”

“STOP! SHE’S NOT HERE!” His anger rained upon her as he slammed a fist next to her, making shards of the cave scatter around them. “You’re not real. YOU’RE NOT REAL!”

He muttered the phrase over and over like a mantra as though he was trying to keep himself sane. But he had lost his sanity months before. He’d grown restless and delusional quickly, berating himself for everything he had and had not done. Carlisle blamed himself for the brokenness of his family, but most of all, he promised himself eternal damnation for letting go of (Y/N) in the most horrid way he could muster. He had not physically killed her, but he had done the second worst thing.  

A jagged piece of quartz grabbed (Y/N)’s attention then. It had landed perfectly at arm’s reach. She could feel her vision growing spotty from the lack of oxygen, but she couldn’t call the girls just yet—not until Carlisle had snapped back into reality.

She struggled against his grip slightly, reaching for the crystal, feeling its edge cut slightly into her palm. “If you don’t think I’m real, then you won’t care if I’m hurt,” she whispered. Carlisle watched with a look of concern as she raised the quartz to her wrist. “Come back, Carlisle. Come home.” 

Without thinking twice, (Y/N) ran the sharpest point of the quartz down her arm, flinching as blood pooled on her skin. Putting all trust in the vampires, the girl let the crystal fall to the ground and snapped her fingers three times. She mustered all the love and care she could in a simple gaze and stared into Carlisle’s black eyes as she raised her bloody hand onto his cheek and smiled.

Then, it all went black.

Next ->

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[neetily]

On Edge - KINKTOBER DAY 07 (EDGING) - (SDV) SAM

— ✧ warnings: Edging, Overstimulation, blowjob, Somnophilia, Drool/Saliva, Exhibitionism, Feet, Dry Humping, Footjob — ✧ word count: 2,501 — ✧ genre: smut (18+)

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account since i was asked to! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

You’ve been at it all. Fuckin’. Day.

Right from the morning too, waking him up with a dangerous blowjob when you knew he had plans that day. It’s hard to complain about how good it feels though, all groggy and barely able to keep his eyes open at the sound of your suckling, waking with his hips instinctively humping up into your wanting mouth with lazy strokes. You even had it all sloppy like he likes, drooling all over his lower half with a knowing smile at his fluttering lashes to boot. The first thought after the initial confusion as to why his tummy felt so tight with pleasure was Fuck, feels good. The more he wakes the faster you go, slowly working him up to the edge of cumming down your tight little throat so early in the morning. Sucking the life outta him, leaving him feeling raw and sensitive before his eyes even fully open. “F-fuck-” he shuddered upon realising what was happening, his body squirming under your attention when you hum in acknowledgement of his awareness. His voice is tense, gravelly with last nights sleep when he gasps “Woah- wait-” His teeth grinding together to keep himself composed, already feeling incredibly close to busting before he’s even had a chance to enjoy your tongue wrapped around his tip, the feeling of your throat swallowing his whole cock as you nose at his pubes clearly proving too much for him to take for much longer. “Close- m’s'close baby…” He slurs, relaxing into the sheets below while you busy yourself with bobbing up and down his trembling length, tongue coated in precum now that he’s up and more precisely humping your face himself. “Keep goin’, please- Jus’ like that-” He babbles, letting his fingers take root in your hair when you hum again, sending nice vibrations all the way down his cock to try and coax him into cumming. And to be fair, it almost works. He’s so ready for it, the drowsy thrusts he fucks your throat with, your pretty lips tight around his tip, your tongue flat against his veins- he’s almost there.

And then the door goes. A harsh ring! swearing to leave him needy and unsatisfied. His previously agreed to morning plans starting before he’s wanting or even willing to, too tired to force your head back down his cock when you pop off in surprise, the little giggle to yourself when he lets out a loud whine at the loss of contact unfairly going straight to his cock too. Didn’t you hear him? He was right on the fuckin’ edge, cock still twitching with need to shoot his load as the build up of his orgasm frustratingly ebbs away. You give him an apologetic glance, though with the laugh that follows he knows you’re not actually sorry. “Looks like you should start getting ready.” You prompt him, standing to leave the room to get the door for him given the fact that his cock is currently rock hard and ready to burst. You leave him to calm himself down a bit before he goes to meet Sebastian, regrettably promising to hang out with him to work out their latest track the night before. He has half a mind to just quickly jack off in the privacy of your room, make his friend wait a bit longer to hang out all because of how good you are with your tongue. But, he instead decides that you’ll be worth the wait. Surely you’ll reward his patience when you next meet, knowing that you’ll soon visit the two of them once you finish your farming duties.

Sadly, that isn’t the case.

Your arrival kickstarted his half chub from the moment you walked into Sebastian’s room, the two of them sitting by his table working some lyrics out. He’s done well enough so far, the stress of collaborating a new song together thankfully taking his mind off his unfortunate morning… Mostly, anyway. But seeing you has his mind wandering again, prominent bulge swelling in his pants as you take the seat opposite him. He does his best to hide it from you both. From Sebastian simply because getting caught with his cock hard in front of his best friend would be embarrassing, and from you because he wants his reward and part of him feels that if you catch him hard purely from seeing you like some sort of horny pavlovian dog then he’ll never hear the end of it.

You’re chatting away to Sebastian after greeting them, big bright smile on your face for him to gawk at. He tries to take his mind off things to calm his cock but it’s difficult where you’re so close to him and yet just out of reach, finding himself soon enough returning to look at you as he ignores the current conversation. You’re a little dirty, evidence of your hard farm work, but he thinks it’s cute anyway. Shows how determined and strong you are, even better shown in the tone of your muscles. Ah… your body. Such a gorgeous body you have, he thinks. Still soft and squishy in the right places, seeing now that the top you’ve decided to wear is maybe a little too tight for comfort reasons. The smirk you send him upon his noticing confirms his suspicions that the mornings games are still continuing, causing him to swallow the lump of lust caught in his throat as he secretly palms over his aching cock. You know exactly what you’re doing to him and it turns him on beyond belief. So sexy that all it takes is a single look from you and he’s immediately turned on, mind short circuiting in his self indulgent haze when your foot kicks his hand away and comes into contact with his already too hard cock at the realisation that you know. Hopeful that this is his reward and mind too rotted with you to continue caring about the fact that he’s in a public setting — his best friends room no less! The background to his arousal convincing more pre to leak, staining his pants like the dirty pervert he is. The shock contact of your foot causes him to jump a little though, coughing to hide the gasp of thanks that wants to escape his lips. “You good, Sam?” Sebastian asks with genuine concern, Sam nodding towards his friend for fear of his voice giving his position away. “Kay. So, as I was saying-” he tuned out of Sebastian’s rambles, probably asking for advice or complaining about Sam’s lack of focus tonight. It doesn’t matter, not when your foot gently rubs up and down his length, toes curling around his straining tip so well that he’s blushing at the feeling. He doesn’t dare look up at you, knowing that you’re wearing a self satisfied grin at the state of him from just a little petting, unwilling to humiliate himself more than he already is from getting off to your feet. In public. Dirtying himself with copious amounts of precum when you start to apply pressure, really grinding your toes against his cock, rocking your foot up and down with more purpose. He’s breathless, rendered dumb at your affectionate laughter when he coughs again, doing his best to hide his clear need to cum once more. And you’re so slow and tender with it too, makes him feel gross in the best way possible to be getting off to you like this. He brings a hand over your foot, not to control but to grind into it better, barely there humps against your sole to gratify himself with. So incredibly close so quickly too thanks to your mornings work, the danger of not only getting caught but also to face the threat of social suicide has him right on the edge again, lowering his head to the table to at least try and hide his upcoming orgasm.

“Right. Are you ready to head to the saloon, Sammy?” Sebastian woefully pulls him back to reality, your foot nowhere to be felt at the sound of Sebastian’s chair scraping along the wooden floorboards. Again, Sam has to hide his greed in the form of a sigh, forcing a smile as he lifts his head up to meet your gaze. “Sure am.” He voices, words tenser than he had meant to make them but fuck, can you blame him? Twice in a row now you’ve left him ruined, his eyes rolling in annoyance as you and Sebastian head to the basement door.

He only has time to flip his cock up unto the waistband of his jeans and hope that it’ll be hidden enough with his jacket.

The saloon isn’t any better of a time for him either as you insist on sitting on his lap, crowded by his friends while you perch yourself right on top of his hard on. Of fuckin’ course you do, leaving him completely seething in restraint to not bend you over and fuck you right in front of everyone. “Sit nice, please. I’m beggin’ ya.” He whispers in your ear, not so much warning you to behave but warning you of his tendency to act regardless of the consequences. The no answer you provide him makes him whine low in your ear, a continuation of his pleads for fair treatment despite knowing he’s unlikely to receive it, even if you’re sat on his rock hard cock right before his friends.

And true to his suspicions you don’t let up, hard all the way down to the saloon and still as you choose to sit in his lap, cock positively aching, balls especially tight as a whole days worth of seed begs to blow. One could argue that you’re being mean as you wriggle in his lap under the guise of getting comfortable, easily carrying the tables conversation while he rests his head in the crook of your neck, mumbling a soft lie of “M'tired.” to his friends questions if he’s okay or not. But Sam knows better. He’d be a liar if he said he didn’t enjoy this constant teasing, ever so slightly rocking his hips up against your ass every time you shift and stir to try and beat you at your own game. For all he knows you’re doing no better than him in spite of your seemingly calm outside, edging yourself as much as you’ve forced him to endure all day. There’s a slight shake to your movements, a tell tale tremble to your voice that reeks of want too. His arms are tight around your tummy, making sure your ass grinds good against his cock while avoiding suspicion. But when you go so far as to bounce up and down in faux excitement to something Abigail suggests he’s decided he’s had enough, huffing against your neck only to abruptly stand. You’re startled, his friends are startled, but you’ve left him no other choice. Quickly tugging on your arm to follow him, keeping you placed directly in front of him so as to not expose himself to all the God dammed saloon inhabitants.

“Can I talk t'ya a sec?” He asks, but there’s no intention of waiting for an answer, dragging you all the way to the hidden backrooms of the saloon, past the arcades and pool table to speak to you in private. You follow with a skip in your step and it annoys him.

Not enough annoyance to quell his lust, mind you. Pinning you in a corner as soon as he can and looking you up and down for just a brief second. He watches you go to speak, mouth open with the start of your sentence before he shuts you up with a kiss before you can taunt him some more. All hunger and need, his tongue immediately gliding against your own, shoved to the back of your throat as drool drips from his lips to your own. He’s messy, completely fraught with lust that he has no time to consider how loud the wet smacks of his lips are or how noisy his open mouthed moans sound down your throat as you meet him with just as much passion, copying his sounds for more and making him a little dizzy. As he’s kissing you — or rather trading saliva with you — his hands rake all over your body. One keeps your shoulder pinned while the other snakes up under your shirt to grab at your tits without permission, kneading them for self satisfaction, his cock grinding up and down your tummy as he hasn’t the mind to put it anywhere else. Feels so good finally taking you like this, already near his limit after just a little kissing thanks to the constant edging the whole day. And he doesn’t offer you a break at all, slotting his knee between your legs while his free hand grabs your hip, forcing you to hump him much like he’s humping you. a back and forth of insatiable need, rutting against each other like horny rabbits simply because he can’t wait a second to put his cock in your surely wanting hole. There’s no time, leaving him edged all day causing him to fuck his cock against anything he can reach because it feels good enough with how sensitive you’ve left him. His tip rubbing against the egregious wet spot in his pants, cock grinding against your tummy with such desperation that he has to hold you stable. His knees bend to stimulate the motion of fucking better, moaning and whining in between sloppy kisses, swallowing your own mewls and hiccups all for himself because he’s earned it. And the way you so willingly submit to his downright filthy behaviour is what finally, after all this time waiting and wanting, causes him to shoot his load.

It’s big and feels like it lasts forever, his pathetic hips stuttering against your body, his grip on you weakening as his lips unattach from your own in favour of letting you hear how appreciative he is of your efforts. Sounds to him like you’re just as thankful, collapsing into his chest to ride out your own orgasm on his thigh while he spurts thick ropes of cum against his boxers. It’s sticky and messy, exactly how he likes it and he can’t help but forgive you for the days frustrations after experiencing the best orgasm he’s had in a long time, left struggling to breath from how good it felt to finally release.

You’re no better when you cum, crying his name all high pitched and pretty, God- how he’s longed all day to hear that sound. It causes a few extra dribbles of cum to coat his cock, a very visible wet patch formed in his now obviously stained pants.

“Feel- hah. Feel better now?” You ask, smirking up at him despite looking a mess yourself and gasping for air.

You’re lucky he thinks you’re cute.

[chaoticbardlady99]

Sheep Thrills (Astarion x GN! Reader)

Synopsis: You and Astarion are often up to nothing good on your rest days. Shortly after the tiefling party, the group decides to hunt down Auntie Ethel in an attempt to rid the Sword Coast of the Hag.

When the group decides to send two people to scout a head- You and Astarion are far too keen to volunteer your time. You have your own research to conduct.

CW: Nothing really besides references to sex(?), just kind of fun and cute

Words: 1.6k

Photo belongs to idk who so please reach out if it’s yours!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated! I am just terrible at responding 🙃

The sun holds itself proudly up in the sky and there is a nice breeze in the air. You and Astarion are perched up on one of the higher rock formations that peers down on the Sheep munching at the grass along the river. You have been staring at them for far too long, but the two of you are convinced that something is not right with these sheep.

You had both been absolutely fascinated with the damn things ever since you walked by them to get to Kagha’s note. When you and Astarion graciously agreed to look for the Hag’s house- all of your companions were suspicious.

They should be.

You found the Hag’s home and quickly began trying to unravel the secrets of the swamp instead of going back to camp. You’ve been out here for at least three more hours than you told them you would be.

It’s been a semi-uncomfortable, fun, and muggy three hours- you’ve called Astarion a primadonna a couple times and he’s called you a stubborn bull a few more, but overall it’s going very well after you take a sip of water and he gets a few blissful moments from your wrist. Unquenchable thirst and stake outs never mix.

Something has to be up. The sheep sound unnatural. You both think the sheep will reveal whatever their secret is eventually, but they will not budge.

You’ve offered them snacks, pets, kind words, a generous amount of “BAAs” in return- Astarion even jumped around the corner and scared one of the damn things and yet you are both just as stumped as you had been 3 hours ago.

Unfortunately for these poor sheep, you are a very stubborn Warlock with a nose for shenanigans and have befriended a rogue who encourages (and enables) your thirst for chaos. Neither one of you is willing to walk away until an answer presents itself.

“Maybe- hey get that look off your face-,” You whisper and gently push him as he gives you an unamused look, “I think I figured it out!”

“Your last guess was that the sheep were all going mad from Giardia, my Sweet,” he smirks, “I don’t think Giardia is the direct cause for their baaa-ing sound being so bizarre.”

You feel your face burn up from the pet name and you look away, clearing your throat.

“Yes, I admit that I goofed your Magistrateliness- I said a silly, unforgivable thing,” you say with crocodile tears, “but I think we are overcomplicating this whole thing.”

Astarion raises one his eyebrows at you, “is that so? Please enlighten me, my Dear fearless Knight.”

You roll your eyes so hard you think they may fall out- you are the least knightley person you know. Astarion snorts at your cross eyedness when you finally look at him again with your theatrical unamused smile. Your tadpole wriggles behind your eyes before a fleeting warmth goes through your body and you see your own face through Astarion’s eyes.

Silly and beautiful.

Happiness.

You pinch yourself- willing the tadpole to stop intruding on Astarion’s thoughts and feelings. Although those sentiments make you very very happy- you will not push the matter. Astarion can take it at his pace- he’s been under a shitty, abusive vampire lord for 200 years and he deserves the respect. You only slept together a few days ago anyway- you can be patient.

“Why don’t we just shoot one of the sheep?” You ponder, “if it’s a spell, it will break and then we’ll know they aren’t really sheep. If they are sheep, then we have sheep for dinner!”

Astarion snorts, “really? You’d eat the potentially Giardia ridden sheep? I wish I could say I expected more from you, Darling.”

You glare at him and his cheeky grin. You look away with a pout and feel a cold pair of lips kiss your cheek. Your heart beat picks up.

“I’m only teasing, Darling,” he whispers into your ear, “I maybe only expected slightly better of you.”

“You- Mister Magistrate- are very very mean.”

“I never said I was nice,” he says with a shit eating grin, “well- I’m nice where it counts at least.”

It takes you a second and then you realize what he is saying. He certainly isn’t wrong, but it doesn’t make the blush running up your face any less embarrassing or the way you feel yourself clench around nothing at the thought.

Astarion looks far too pleased with himself and your body’s giddiness in response. You try to change the subject before your words give you away as much as your body already has.

“Do you want to shoot the sheep or should I?”

He scoffs, “I can’t believe that’s even a question. I’m obviously going to be shooting the mangy, river diseased sheep.”

“I should have never said the Giardia thing,” you mutter under your breath.

“No,” he grins, “you really shouldn’t have.”

You watch as he gets his crossbow set up, his delicate hands work assuredly. You follow the flexing of his arms as they work to get the bolt in and get lost in the valleys of concentration on his face. It’s stupid how beautiful he is.

The sound of the arrow whizzing through the air, the loud guttural shriek from the sheep, and the putrid smell of bog water fills your senses all at once.

“Shit.”

You look down and see exactly what Astarion is referring to- the sheep are Redcaps. Of course they are Redcaps! How did you not think of that!? Their beady eyes are looking high and low- one is actually crying over it’s fallen companion which makes you feel like a bit of a dick.

“Aw man,” you whisper, “now I feel like a jerk. We didn’t even give them a fair chance.”

“Life isn’t fair, my Dear,” Astarion whispers matter-of-factly, “which is why we should spend less time empathizing with the things and more time getting out of here.”

You both sneak around to find a pathway that will allow you to waltz away from your mishap before you are overrun by Redcaps. Astarion taps your knee and gestures to a path that will allow you both to get away undetected. You are so grateful you learned how to sneak around like a rogue in your urchin years because oh boy- it was not an easy path to navigate in a full squat.

You both begin running as soon as you are out of the Fey creatures’ vision and you begin to laugh as you come to a halt. It’s a wild laugh filled with adrenaline. It feels so good to be alive.

Astarion stops ahead of you and tries to gesture to be quiet, but it was too late- Wyll was already standing there and looking at both of you like he’s your disappointed mother.

“Three hours!?” Wyll exclaims, “it took you three hours to find one Hag’s house!? The Swamp isn’t even that big!”

“Actually,” you state with fake confidence, “we found out quite a lot of helpful information today.”

“For example,” Astarion quips, “the sheep are infected with Giardia.”

“So help me Gods Astarion!,” you say with a huff before turning back to Wyll, “the Sheep are red caps.”

Wyll was significantly less annoyed after you revealed that information and grumbled about how that is actually helpful information before storming off. You turn to Astarion with a cheeky smile on your face.

“Ha- shows him!” You say with pride, “did you hear that? HELPFUL!”

Astarion rolls his eyes at you, but you can tell he is equally as thrilled as you are.

“I’m still saddened by how little he trusts us to get anything done,” Astarion says with feign hurt, “whatever will I do if our local Knight in Shining Armor is so irritated with me that he won’t come to my aid?”

You know the question is hypothetical, rhetorical even, but you leap up onto the nearest boulder and look upon him- your right hand in a fist over your chest.

“Magistrate- Administer of Bog Laws and entertainer of Sheep Thrills- I pledge my sword to thee! Ye shall never know neglect at the hands of a Knight ever again!”

“Hmmm, but I feel rather neglected by you, my Dear.”

You frown and feel worry fill your body. You hop off the rock and walk over quickly. Astarion looks surprised to see how seriously you have taken his words.

“What did I do? Or I suppose what do I need to d-“

Astarion cups your face with his hands and interrupts your rambling with a chaste kiss. He pulls back and throws his head back in laughter at your flustered expression.

“I-“ you clear your throat, “I must apologize- I did not realize such services were wanted! I shall erectify my mistake starting now!”

“Erectify?” Astarion snorts, “don’t you mean rectify?”

“Oh no,” you smile mischievously, “I know exactly what I said.”

“You are the biggest weirdo I have ever met,” Astarion states affectionately, “you do know that, don’t you?”

“Good! It means I’m not replaceable.”

“Oh Darling, you are anything but,” Astarion presses a soft kiss to your forehead, “you will come to my bed tonight, won’t you?”

“Of course- shall I come to you in the cover of the night,” you tease, “or should I attempt an insane series of parkour moves to avoid being seen?”

“Oh good Gods,” Astarion shakes his head, the smile on his face betraying his attempt at exasperation, “how about this instead-”

You raise your eyebrow at him with confusion and Astarion gestures for you to walk forward. As the two of you turn to camp, you suppress the urge to squeal like a schoolgirl when he intertwines your hand in his as you walk back together.

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch. 14

Sukuna x Reader

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction based on the universe of "Jujutsu Kaisen," created by Gege Akutami. The original manga, anime, and characters belong to their respective owners and creators.

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

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CHAPTER 14 - Black Flash

Without further ado, Sukuna swung open the door at the bottom of the staircase. The sight that greeted you beyond was a chilling echo of the past.

Sukuna had manifested his innate domain in the space under the apartment. A grotesque landscape that was all too familiar. The pile of skulls, the damp, murky floors, and the jagged rock formations—it was the same domain he had taken you to on that first fateful night.

It was here that he had unleashed a horde of curses upon you, pushing you to the brink of collapse in a brutal test of your abilities.

As you stood at the threshold of Sukuna's domain, you were surprised to find that the usual chills of fear were absent. Perhaps the constant exposure to danger over these past weeks had hardened you, forging you into a more resilient person.

Or maybe there was a part of you that recognized the potential for growth in this twisted arrangement. Sukuna, in his own way, was offering you the chance to become stronger, to hone your abilities through his 'training.'

The notion of power as the ultimate currency in this world was not lost on you; it was a harsh truth that had been imprinted upon you from a young age.

Your parents' tireless efforts, their kindness and ambition, had been swallowed whole by a world that favored those in power.

And Ayumi... the thought of her stung sharply, a wound that refused to heal. Her lack of strength had cost her everything, and your lack of strength had left you unable to protect her.

That is why you had decided to become so incredibly strong that you'd never feel helpless again. Besides, it was the only thing that could be gained from the vow that was forced upon you—and you were determined to exploit the circumstances to their fullest.

With a steadfast stride, you passed through the threshold, following Sukuna into the gloomy domain.

Your feet splashed against the muddy ground, and you thought about how you had much preferred the openness of the abandoned factory over the dark, oppressive atmosphere of this place. Bringing it up would be completely futile though, knowing that the King of Curses couldn't care less about your preferences.

Instead of assuming his usual position of 'towering dominance' atop the pile of skulls, Sukuna stood before you, only a few feet separating the two of you. He stared you down, his expression morphing into a scoff.

"You know," Sukuna began, his voice a low, menacing purr, "I sought you out because I'd heard whispers that Satoru Gojo himself had taken an interest in you. That arrogant fool claimed you possessed 'great potential.'" He spat out the words as if they left a foul taste in his mouth.

"But what did I find upon dragging you here? A weak, pathetic insect, not even worth the effort of squashing beneath my heel."

He took a deliberate step closer, his cursed energy pulsing around him like waves. "And yet..." Sukuna's voice dropped to a near-whisper, "that insufferable sorcerer isn't one to waste his time. So what could he possibly see in you?"

It was as if being in Sukuna's domain enhanced the weight of his presence somehow—it felt more suffocating than ever before.

You could barely focus on what he was saying, but Sukuna continued his monologue nonetheless. "It didn't take me long to notice it—that spark of potential he thought he could cultivate."

He took one more step towards you, closing the already small gap between you. The weight of his cursed energy now intensified exponentially, crushing down on you as your breaths became ragged, each inhalation a struggle against the pressure.

"It's laughable, really. You possess this power, yet you're too pathetic, too ignorant to even grasp the nature of your own cursed technique. What a waste."

It was as if a curtain fell away when he turned around and walked away again, finally giving you room to breathe.

Only now could you truly process his words. What did he mean by 'your cursed technique'? The very notion puzzled you.

You were still grappling with the basics, still trying to find your footing in the world of jujutsu, where a cursed technique seemed to be a must in order to become a powerful sorcerer. And all this time without a proper cursed technique had left you wondering if maybe you'd never develop one at all.

But now Sukuna was telling you that you already possessed a cursed technique? There was no way...

Though thinking back, this wasn't the first time someone had implied that there was something latent within you, a power you were oblivious to.

Gojo's remarks during your training with the bear-shaped cursed puppet suddenly resurfaced.

"That's amazing," Gojo had said, a rare note of surprise in his voice. "That thing you're doing with your cursed energy – it's quite impressive. Though a bit scary, too..."

His words echoed through your head. God, this was frustrating. Why couldn't you see?

It pained you to admit it, but right now you needed Sukuna—you needed him to tell you about your cursed technique. So you swallowed your pride and turned to him.

"Tell me," you called out, your voice firm despite the churning emotions within. "What is my cursed technique?"

Sukuna's laughter erupted suddenly, a harsh, grating sound that echoed throughout his domain. It was as if your question was the funniest thing he had heard in ages. His eyes gleamed with cruel amusement as he looked down on you. "You think I'd just tell you outright? Stupid little sorcerer...You'll have to earn it."

Of course, nothing came easy with Sukuna. He thrived on torment and challenge—what had you expected?

Sukuna spoke up, the laughter now subsided and his voice more serious. "I'll give you a clue, under one condition," he said, as he started circling around you.

"You must land a Black Flash on me."

Black Flash. You were certain you had heard that term before, but to be fair, you couldn't remember at all what it meant. Your confusion was apparent, and Sukuna's expression twisted into one of disgusted amusement. "You don't even know what that is, do you?" he sneered. "Pathetic."

The gap between you and him seemed wider than ever, a chasm not just of power but of understanding. Doubt gnawed at you—did you have any right to call yourself a jujutsu sorcerer?

Sukuna sighed, obviously annoyed that he had to bother with an explanation. "A Black Flash is a moment of pure synchronicity between your cursed energy and a strike. It's the mark of a true sorcerer's power and control." He stopped his circling, as he sought your gaze and locked eyes.

"If you can manage that," he continued, his voice low and menacing, "I might consider telling you more. But don't get your hopes up. Weaklings like you rarely achieve such feats."

You squared your shoulders, meeting Sukuna's gaze with newfound resolve. "Fine," you said, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions. "I'll do it."

Sukuna spread his arms as if welcoming you to attack him. "Excellent," he purred. "Then let's see if you're capable of anything more than being a disappointment."

Steeling yourself, you channeled your cursed energy, feeling it pulse through your veins. You launched yourself at Sukuna, aiming a punch at his face. But he sidestepped effortlessly, his mocking laughter ringing in your ears.

"You call that an attack? Put some real force behind it, woman."

Gritting your teeth, you whirled around and swung again, this time with more power. Sukuna barely moved, parrying your strike with a flick of his wrist. The impact sent a shockwave up your arm, but you pushed through the pain and kept attacking.

"Too slow," he taunted, his voice without any trace of effort, as he kept evading your hits. "Your moves are obvious. Make it less predictable."

You tried to take his advice, mixing up your strikes, but each one missed its mark. Sukuna danced around you, his movements a blur, his contempt palpable. Desperation gnawed at you as you felt your energy depleting.

"You're not focusing your cursed energy properly," he snapped, catching your wrist mid-punch and twisting it painfully. "Feel the flow—let it enhance your strikes, not hinder them."

With a grunt of pain, you wrenched free and tried to focus, feeling the cursed energy coursing through you. You aimed a kick at his midsection, infusing it with everything you had. Sukuna caught your leg effortlessly, throwing you to the ground.

"Disgraceful," he spat, looming over you. "Do you even understand what you're trying to achieve? Synchronize your cursed energy with your physical movements. It's not just power—it's precision."

Scrambling to your feet, you tried to absorb his words, feeling the frustration boil over. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, focusing inward, seeking that elusive synchronicity he spoke of.

When you opened them, you felt a faint but noticeable shift in your energy.

You charged at him again. This time, Sukuna's expression shifted ever so slightly, from mocking amusement to mild interest. You swung, and though he still dodged, it was by a narrower margin.

"Better," he acknowledged with a condescending smirk. "But still far from enough."

Breathing hard, you didn't relent. You pressed the attack, each strike coming closer to its mark. Sukuna's movements remained fluid, but you could sense his attention sharpening.

"You've got some fire in you, brat," he jeered. "But do you have the guts to finish it?"

Now he was just asking for it.

With a roar, you focused all your energy into a final punch, feeling a sudden, intense alignment of your cursed energy and physical strength. As your fist hurtled toward him, the air around it seemed to distort. For a split second, time seemed to freeze.

You felt an unbelievable sense of confidence. Everything came into focus—the flow of your own cursed energy, his. It was as if, for the first time, you could truly see it.

Sukuna's eyes widened slightly, and he moved to block, but your punch connected, a burst of energy rippling through the air. The force made the ground tremble, and you both stood still for a moment, the echo of the impact lingering.

Sukuna's expression shifted to one of mild approval, though his eyes still glinted with his usual menace. "Well, well, look at that—a proper Black Flash. Perhaps there's a sliver of worth in you after all, though it's hardly anything to brag about," he drawled.

God, you hated his guts, but right now, you didn't care about that. You felt a rush of exhilaration, high on the fleeting sense of power you had just experienced. It was intoxicating, and without a second thought, you charged at Sukuna again, driven by a surge of impulsive confidence.

But Sukuna was quick to remind you of your place. With a swift, effortless flick of his wrist, he sent you crashing to the ground with brutal force, leaving you gasping and reeling as pain flared through your body.

You struggled to push yourself up, casting a weary glance at Sukuna, who stood imposingly above you.

"Know your place and don't get too full of yourself, brat, or you'll find out exactly how powerless you are against me."

The impact of the blow shattered the exhilaration from your earlier success, bringing you back to reality. As you lay there, pain still radiating through your body, your mind fixated on one thing: understanding more about your cursed technique.

"You promised me information about my cursed technique," you said, forcing the words out despite the ache in your chest. "I need to know more."

Sukuna's eyes narrowed as his lips twisted into a mocking smile. "Oh? Still hungry for answers, are we?" he drawled. With a languid motion, he walked over to the pile of skulls and seated himself at the base with a relaxed posture.

"Fine then," he continued, surprisingly compliant for once. "Did you notice the flow of cursed energy during that Black Flash? Can you sense your own energy and that of others more clearly now?"

You nodded, feeling the residual effects of your earlier effort. "Yes, it's like I can see it clearly now."

A smug grin spread across Sukuna's face. "Good girl. Here's your clue: From now on, pay close attention to the flow—yours and others'—especially at the moment of impact."

He moved his gaze from the floor below him to meet your eyes, and somehow you found you couldn't look away from his crimson stare.

"That is where the key to understanding your technique lies."

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Thanks for reading! I appreciate the support 🙏❤️

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn

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[nardo-headcanons]

Naruto Worldbuilding - The Hyuga and The Uchiha

big thanks to @weepingnightmarenaruto , whose post inspired me to write these!

This is random, rambly and NSFW-ish at some parts. feel free to use in hcs, fics, etc

Byakugan vs Sharingan I have made a post on buffing the byakugan before, click here to read the whole thing.

a/n: this text formatting shit is killing me

Byakugan users are immune to visual genjutsus to some degree, so if you wanna put a Byakugan user under a genjutsu you need to use your mangekyo or use a non-visual genjutsu.

Using their gentle fist, byakugan users can penetrate the Susanoo, but a lot of chakra is needed to get through.

Sharingan users can use their sharingan to follow and predict movements, allowing them to perform elaborate shuriken and kunai throwing jutsus. They can make a trajectory of a kunai curve and are generally very fast in their movements.

As a ‘response’, the Hyuga came up with the Revolving Heaven Technique to block shuriken from all sides. The Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms technique, and later the One hundred-and-twenty-eight Palms technique are hard to read for sharingan users due to them not being able to see the tenketsu. The One Hundred and Twenty-Eight Palms technique is so fast that it can’t be blocked without very extensive training in taijutsu.

While many Uchiha are weapon specialists and sword wielders, the Hyuga have a disdain for the use of weapons and prefer to use bare hands to fight, making the Uchiha specialized in long distance fights and the Hyuga in short distance fights.

The best way to beat either an Uchiha or a Hyuga is with excellent Taijutsu (Like Guy or Rock Lee level taijutsu)

Uchiha Clan vs Hyuga Clan

Similarities Both clans are strict and conservative with their upbringing. They hone their family traditions and are sceptical about outsiders wanting to marry into their clan, although the Hyuga are a bit stricter than the Uchiha.

Differences The Hyuga think of the Uchiha as overly emotional troublemakers and brutal warmongers with no emotional control while the Uchiha think of the Hyuga as arrogant, stuck up snobs with a superiority complex, and they have a big disdain for the branch family system of the Hyuga.

While the Hyuga clan prefer traditional clothing like Kimonos, the Uchiha prefer clothes with a more western cut.

While not every Uchiha has a Sharingan, every Hyuga has a Byakugan.

The Hyuga had higher political power than the Uchiha and played a big part in the discrimination the Uchiha faced.

Misc - NSFW ahead!

a/n: please don't ask me why i chose to add this. also. @samgazm ur gonna have a field day with this one

The sharingan activates automatically during very emotional moments (which the Hyuga look down on them for) and also during orgasm. Some wielders keep it activated during sex to improve their performance and record that special memory, since most recorded moments are gonna be battles and it’s nice to have something to balance that out.

That being said, the Byakugan never activates on its own. Most byakugan users “awaken” it either because they are shown how to or because they are squinting their eyes to read something and realizing “Ohh, I can do this with my eyes”. They will never activate it during sex because they don’t want to fuck a skeleton.

[stevenbasic]

GITJ Post 333: A Saturday at Melissa's, p8 (6pm, Lakshmi)

“Hi there,” I said, watching his eyes go wide and his mouth drop seeing me, standing there in Melissa’s downstairs bathroom, my leggings pulled down past my bottom. Instead of screaming and panicking like I would have done just three months ago if a boy walked in on me changing, I just stood there. I was calm, and I let him look at me. I had nothing to be embarrassed about. I was proud of my body, and how it was changing, what it was becoming.

“Oh my god I’m s-sorry!” he blurted, but I stopped him with a word as he moved to close the door again.

“No, stop,” I said, and immediately he did. He froze in his tracks for me. “It is okay, I am just changing.” I stood there longer, I did not move. His eyes went back to my behind, I watched him, and I smiled. “You can stay and watch if you want.”

“y-yeah no…I was just trying to…but I don’t have a suit…” The poor thing sounded confused and lost. He obviously needed someone to help him again, but even after what we had done together this week, he was still shy.

“You were trying to find a place to change, too?” I asked patiently. He nodded, and I knew I should not laugh. I could barely believe that this was Dr. J, my boss for these past years, and this was me. And it had come to be like this. He was like a little boy who just walked in on his mommy’s friend in the bathroom. He looked so embarrassed. “Why don’t you go find the other ladies, they are in the pool. They can help.”

He looked at me - not my bum, haha, but in my eyes in the mirror this time - and left. He had listened to me. Good boy. 

We were going swimming! Like many of the others, I had not known this house had an indoor pool and did not come prepared. But after a few glasses of afternoon wine from the cellar we figured it would be fun! With Dr. J, now awake and fed I had the chance to pick out an old swimsuit of Melissa’s from the stash we had found in storage, in the basement. Her mom had kept bins of them from Melissa’s teen years. I chose a pretty blue one-piece that looked like it might fit around my bust (now that I am so much bigger up there than I was haha) but oh my goodness the buttttt….

…

“C’mon in Lakshmi we’re teaching him to swim..!”

It was so nice, Melissa’s mother’s house. I mean, my family’s home was nice too, my father had made good money since coming to the United States. But it was not like this, not this big, not this modern and elegant. And we certainly did not have an indoor pool! Melissa’s mother must be very wealthy and successful to afford this house, much more so than my father. She kept everything perfect and beautiful, and this pool area was not an exception. It was a large, glassed-in enclosure, with plants and furniture and nice lighting. A big rock formation took up one part of one wall, bringing an earthy, natural vibe to the whole environment . It was warm, even in November, and above the chlorine I could sense the girls had already filled it with our perfumes. Melissa hadn’t arrived yet - she said she would be coming with Shanette when they were done shopping - but there were many of us here already, both on the pool deck relaxing, sitting on the pool’s edge, and in the water itself. 

I smiled in greeting at the group drinking wine in the lounge chairs as I made my way into the big indoor pool room. I caught myself laughing, seeing it. Some girls were on the pool deck, relaxing, but Josie, Randi and the two desk girls Bobbi and Brittni had Dr. J in the pool, in the deeper end. They were…giving him swimming lessons? 

“He says he used to be able to swim?” Brittni said. She was wearing a brief yellow bikini. “But look-“

I took my first step into the pool and watched as Brittni, who had been holding Dr. J under the armpits, pushed him away from her. She was in water shallow enough for her to stand, but apparently too deep for Dr. J. He had become smaller, recently, the poor thing, while Brittni and Bobbi were each probably 5’8” at this point., just like me. We all watched as he started to flounder, beating awkwardly at the water with his hands and arms. I felt my own heart flutter in a protective reflex, and took another two quick steps down the pool stairs, but he was quickly rescued by Bobbi, who took him underneath the arms again. Her bikini matched her friend’s; the two looked nearly like twins, and their hair looked darker than I remembered.

“Tell Lakshmi what you told us,” called Randi, who was treading water in the deepest area of the pool. Her smile was really big, really white. She looked to be wearing a black bikini, big breasts buoyant. 

Now secure in Bobbi’s arms, Dr. J looked sheepishly over at me as I slowly waded into the water. “Y-yeah I used to be able to, but now I can’t…” he said, his voice so delightfully reticent, like an embarrassed little boy.

“Yeah he’s lost the ability to swim,” Randi purred, in her smoky voice. 

Coos and clucks greeted that, coming from all over the big warm room. “That’s sooo adorable, isn’t it?” burst Aubrey, who was sitting on the pool’s edge, quiet to this point. Her long legs kicked lazily into the water, and a black one-piece clung to her surprisingly dramatic, elegant curves. She looked at Dr. J with a warm, protective gaze that made me feel a nice attachment to her. In response, Dr. J had hid his face, tucking his chin to his chest.

Oooo!

Was he giving us the impression that he was a weak, vulnerable man on purpose? Did he want to look like someone who needed the protection of women? The way he clung to Bobbi’s arms, a young bosomy girl who held him out of the water for his safety, certainly made it seem that way. Maybe it was our perfumes that were doing this to him, or maybe he wanted us to pamper and parent him like a crowd of swimsuit aunties. Because if that was what he was trying to get us to do…he was doing a pretty good job of it!

“Let’s see him try again, He’s so cute when he struggles,” <video link, sound on!> Katie said, leaning over the pool in her blue bikini. I watched his eyes go up to her, from down below in the pool. He looked stunned, and I could not blame him. She is so pretty, with her blonde hair and makeup perfect even on a casual night like this. All the girls, in fact, looked amazing. I could not believe these were my friends. “Go ahead, sweetie, try to swim,” she urged, “you’re going to do great.”

I watched, we all watched, as Bobbi held him, and then talked gently in his ear, readying him to try to paddle across the pool again. Brittni held her arms out, expectant. “Come on, little guy, come on…” she cooed, “Come to Brittni.”

Another chorus of ‘awwwwwws..!’ came from the group of us as he tried the best he could to doggie-paddle his way to the curvy dark-haired girl. He panted and struggled, and after Brittini took a step or two closer, he finally reached her. We all cheered.

“Yayyyy..!” 

“So good, sweetie!”

“Oh my gosh you’re swimming!”

“Maybe we should get him some floaties,” drawled Amelia, who was inspecting her nails at the pool’s edge, seated on a lounger. 

Everyone watched, and chatted, and talked and drank wine and I joined in on the lesson, helping him when he needed to stay afloat. From time to time he would cling to me. His little muscles would tire from all the exercise, and I held him so he could have a rest. His skin felt so good against mine and I could feel his ribs press against my breasts. I made sure to talk gently to him, as I could tell he was still embarrassed. At one point I let him go, to hold onto the wall in the shallow end so I could take a glass of wine from Katie, who offered me one from across the pool.

“That suit look sooo nice on you, Kiki,” Josie complimented me...

”The color is really pretty? That nice blue?” said Bobbi.

”Don’t you think so Dr J?” asked Brittni. 

I could feel his eyes on my bottom as I was reaching for the wine glass. My butt had gotten so big that I knew it must be bursting out the behind. Melissa had been a curvy teen, I am sure, but my butt was obviously way bigger than hers when she fit into this suit! Dr. J was having a hard time looking away from me, but soon his attention was torn elsewhere. Looking up, I saw that Katarina was at the glass door which led from the main living area's great room into the pool. Someone had maybe locked it and she was knocking, and pressing her big boobs into the glass, trying to get in. A big smile was on her face, and her breasts looked enormous in a bikini of midnight blue, pancake-squashed up against the slider. “Let me in..!” she called, voice muffled by the glass. She then planted a big kiss on the floor-to-frame pane.

“Haha okay okay hold on you impatient Polish milf!” said Randi as Katarina pulled away a bit, leaving a huge pucker lipstick mark where her kiss had been, “Those milkers might just bust right through!” Randi had moved to unlock the door and finally Katarina stepped back, to allow it to slide open. Two big, moist mammary-marks remained for a moment, before slowly fading.

“Oh my god Katarina look at you!” Josie laughed, as she stared at the blonde’s overly ample chest.The tall, Eastern European woman stepped into the pool area, sliding the door closed behind her.

“Sorry, I had call husband, at home,” Katarina said, apologizing for having stepped away, “He nervous with babies.”  She was thin, but as a new, nursing mother her breasts were humongous and she knew it “Yes Josephine, I pump earlier. I fill all bottles I bring. But look, so swollen again! It like they know someone hungry.”

I could not help but look over at Dr. J who, from the side of the pool, starred up in awe at Katarina. The poor thing. We all know how he is, and being surrounded by a bevy of us like this must be so hard on him. Everywhere he turned there was something or someone curvy. His employees, his assistants, his secretaries and helpers, here in weekend mode, relaxed and casual and all in swimsuits must have been quite the test. 

Brittni and Bobbi, in fact, looking like twin sisters in their matching bikinis, were moving back across the pool to him. It was cute, watching his eyes bulge, and then them squish him between themselves…

Maybe it was all the wine, or something in the air, but the girls (myself included haha!) were all being so affectionate with him. And the best thing? He was letting us! It was like he had given in, relaxed, and just let himself enjoy the attention. There was no sense of jealousy among us, there was no thought that we were doing something we shouldn’t. Melissa loved us, she loved him, we all loved one another. There was a new feeling of family that had grown strong and warm. I watched him smile awkwardly, sandwiched between the B-girls, and felt my heart open tenderly. He is ours to protect and care for, I could feel it, and we could do such a good job!

The girls played with him in the water some more, giggling, and Josie and I sat together in the hot tub and poured each other wine. Josie was making fun of how frizzy my hair got, around the pool -

- so mean haha! After some time there was a buzz in the air - an actual buzz! - and we could tell Melissa was soon to arrive. We all became giddy and when she appeared in the doorway, the glass sliding open, many of us gasped

She was so beautiful.

“Oh good, Mommy’s home!” Josie sang. 

She stepped in, casual as can be somehow, even as all eyes were drawn magnetically to her. Looking tall, taller than I ever remember seeing her from my seat in the tub, she was absolutely the queen in this castle. If all the girls looked pretty in their swimsuits, Melissa was no less than a bikini goddess built of pure curves that boggled minds. She strode in wearing ribbed swim top of navy blue with a thin, white towel around her womanly hips, ready to swim. Her legs were long, shapely and muscular, her waist and abdominals trimly and impossibly fit.

“Jesus Missy, look at you,” Amelia said, uncharacteristically stunned. Melissa’s curves, her musculature, her long limbs and perfect skin seemed to call to mind something more than human. 

“Wow Miss,” Katie said, echoed by Randi. Others - Aubrey, Katarina, the B-girls and myself - were speechless. How could a human be so perfect? 

Melissa smiled and her eyes sparkled in the dim light, but that was all the acknowledgment she gave us. She seemed focused on one thing. “How’s my baby?” she spoke, eyes on Dr. J where he was held up in the far end of the pool by Brittni and Bobbi. As Melissa slowly stepped in, towards the pool steps, her gaze was fixed the whole time. 

“We measured him today,” Josie called out from beside me, “he’s lost a couple more inches.”

We watched as, casually, Melissa loosened the towel and let it drop from her hips to the floor, just before the steps. Some of us gasped again as now she was fully on display, with brief bikini bottoms baring bountiful hips. From our angle in the hot tub, Josie and I had a view of her bottom, which was huge and magnificent. 

“Is that right, sweetie?” Melissa asked him, as her first toes entered the water, “You got measured?”

“Yeah puppy tell her how tall you are now,” Randi spoke, as she walked over towards us, approaching the hot tub. ‘Puppy’? That was a new term. I liked it!

Eyes in the room were now on Dr. J, still held up between the B-girls, their big breasts squashed into either side of him. His jaw was ajar, and his eyes glazed. 

“C’mon spill it,” Amelia groaned, feigning her typical disinterest but brilliant blue eyes full of intelligence. We all felt it, how primal this moment was. “Tell us all your height., we forget. And Missy needs to know.”

Melissa started to wade into the pool taking one step and then another as she slowly walked towards him. Her eyes were gleaming now and still locked on his, keeping his gaze with her crooked smile. But she didn’t say a word, letting us urge him to speak. 

“Tell her, Dr. J,” Aubrey teased. 

“Yeah sweetie it’s okay,” I heard myself say.

“I’m 4'10”,” he blurted, voice cracking adorably but carrying enough for Melissa to hear. Her smile widened as we all sighed, and then deepened as she began to close the distance between them. The water parted for her, making way as her large body pushed waves to ripple across the pool’s surface. Three-plus feet of water came barely up to her bottom, but every step she took brought her deeper. 

Just then, aside me, Josie spoke up.  “ooooooo and chocolate mommy too!”

“‘Chocolate Mommy?’” said Shanette, who had just stepped into the room, “for real?” Greetings were called out, and Shanette slid the door closed behind herself, sealing us all in once again. She, too, was in a swimsuit, and had breasts that rivaled Katarina’s in size. She said hellos, smiling at us each as she set a new bottle of wine down on a poolside table. Then she looked at Dr. J, still in the B-girls’ arms. The platinum blonde Katie had drifted alongside them. “So it looks like someone here has a little harem, doesn’t he?” Shanette asked. 

That brought a titter of giggles from the girls in the pool, hands brushing his thin chest. 

“A harem, hm?” Melissa purred, one brow cocked as she still approached the little group in the deeper water, closing the distance slowly, “Who else is coming?”

“Oh, a few more people, I forget,” Josie answered, “We invited most everyone.”

“Angie? Cici?” someone asked.

“Does they even still work here?” Randi posited. It was an honest question; no one could remember seeing them, recently though in fact neither had missed a day of work,, “Who’s Cici again?” Some had even forgotten their names.

“Well, you have lots of girls tonight,” Melissa concluded, “What a lucky little man.” She sounded amused, tolerant, advancing on them. From behind her I watched as she took a moment to gather up her thick dark hair, pinning it up. I admired the musculature of her back and shoulders. “Well, that’s nice honey, I’m glad all my friends are here,” she said, having come close enough to reach out to him, “but Wifey’s home now.”

The girls all giggled again. 

”Come here,” she purred, a deep satisfaction in her voice as the B-girls gently let him go, as Melissa’s hands reached under his thin arms and took him from their curvy bodies, “Mommy wants to say hello to daddy.”

We all, fixated, cooed and clucked our approval, watching Melissa bring him to herself, as the girls stepped back. She tucked him onto her side, settling him on her left hip, smiling tenderly. He found his legs curled around her waist underwater, his arms thrown about her long, graceful neck above. Their gazes were locked into each other, and the moment was so romantic! She started to slowly walk him around the pool.

“Oh, Missy, this is so adorable,” someone said. 

It gave all of us a deep satisfaction to see them together, like all was right again in the world. Something in the air -  not just the warm water - heated our blood, brought pleasure to us. His erection pushed into her side; it was like we could all feel it. 

“Mmmm what are you wearing, honey?” we heard her purr. Her eyes were heavy lidded, enjoying the moment herself. 

“I, uh, didn’t have a suit…” he answered sheepishly. 

“We let him swim in his boxers,” Aubrey offered. 

“Yeah he was too shy to go naked,” Randi said. 

“Oh we can fix that,” Melissa smiled, and then pressed her lips firmly against his own.

We saw as the surprise almost caused him to recoil but Melissa’s lips seemed to draw him in. They engulfed his mouth and took hold of his face. She was in charge of their kissing, it was easy to see, and he passively allowed her to swallow him down into it. He looked blissful, held and kissed by his lover, and it made my thighs shiver imagining what they both must be feeling. He didn’t even notice as they lazily walked to the shallows, up the stairs and then back down into the attached hot tub, to be bathed in the warmth of it with Josie and me. We cooed to them in greeting but he seemed unaware that we were even there, so consumed by her kiss he was. All he knew was that when her lips released him he had no strength left and could only let Melissa support him as she now sat on the cement bench which circled the inside of the tub. She settled his smaller body on her lap, supporting him with her strong arms.The feeling of his body relaxing on her own was obviously both soothing and exciting for them both. 

Melissa released him from her kiss, and looked deep down into his fluttering eyes. I realized that none of us had said anything for quite some time.

Shanette was first to speak; she was standing on the steps of the main pool, behind Melissa. “What did we talk about, Missy?” she asked,

At that, as if reminded of something, Melissa giggled and, with one hand still supporting his back, lowered the straps of her bikini partway down her shoulders. Dr. J’s eyes immediately went to her chest and she, gathering her shoulders, bulged her enormous breasts together, causing them to balloon upwards and him to moan. They were right in front of his face, and looked big enough to swallow his head. 

“That’s right, go to mama,” I heard Shanette whisper.

“oh my god…” he breathed, despite himself. 

“That’s right, she’s so big, isn’t she Dr. J?” Randi purred, walking towards us on the deck.

Dr. J moaned again. 

“Weekend daddy is so much more fun than work daddy,” Josie giggled, turning a bit towards the couple, from their right. I sat across the tub, just watching as Dr. J’s eyes drifted to Josie. She wore a black string bikini, tied around her neck, and looked really pretty. 

“He is more fun,” Randi said, as she slid into the tub with us, behind Dr. J and to Melissa’s left, “Maybe we shouldn’t let him go to work anymore.”

“Ooo yeah!” Josie squealed. 

That brought a giggle from Melissa. “Would you like that?” she asked him, bouncing him a little in her lap with her large, muscular thighs, “If I kept you here as a stay-at-home husband?” Was she joking? Or was she serious? Haha oh my god!

“Yeah he could cook and clean for you,” Randi offered. 

“I’d pay to see him in an apron,” said Amelia, who had stood, strolled our way with her wine.

“Oh no no no…” Melissa laughed, jostling him again on her lap, “I’d do all that. That’s Wifey’s job. This house is too big for daddy.” She knew where his eyes were fixed, staring at her breasts as they jiggled in her navy blue bikini top. “And we can’t have him all tired when mommy gets home…”

”Yeah mommy has needs!” Josie giggled. 

I watched Melissa’s hand reach down between his legs. 

“Oh I do, I do…” she agreed, groaning, as if overcome by the feel of him in her grip, “Omigosh, you have no idea.” She smiled as we all watched as his whole body stiffened, for a moment, feeling her big hand take hold of him underwater.

“You’re so hard for her aren’t you, baby?” Shanette purred, from where she stood nearby in the main pool by the steps. The shallows were part way up her brown thighs. 

“Oh he is,” Melissa returned, smiling, watching his face. “Josie, Randi, Ki…is it okay if I…take care of him? Under the water?” she asked, “You guys can step out if it’s-“

“No, please go ahead!” Josie blurted, as Randi just chuckled. 

“yes oh my,” I agreed, nearly speechless, my eyes feeling as wide as Josie’s. Melissa was going to do it here, right now, in the hot tub with the warm water and all of us in it? Oh my god I felt my mouth dry up, my thighs tingle again like I wanted it in me.

Dr J had made some weak complaint, but Melissa’s hand was already in his boxers gripping him, pulling him free. My heart was racing, watching this as best I could; I could only see a hint of what was going on beneath the froth of the roiling water, shadows and shapes of his huge erection in her fist. He was embarrassed, we could all tell, exposed in front of us like this, but he was also already consumed by pleasure.

”shhhhh you need this…it’s okay,” Melissa was urging him, “Just relax.”

“Yeah, relax Daddy, you need this,” Josie purred, as both she and I drifted in closer, “Mommy’s taking care of you.” Aubrey had also become bold enough to slip into the tub with us, while Shanette stayed in the main pool, still turned towards us watching.

“It’s like girl soup in there, hm?” Amelia commented, sitting down on the hot tub’s edge, “I’ll put my feet in…”

“Girl soup!” Josie giggled, making me laugh too. Aubrey bobbed up and down, rolling waves through the water.

“Mmmm yum yum, right Jay?” Melissa purred, “But I think it needs one more ingredient…” At that, underwater, Melissa’s hand tugged at something and in an instant she held a torn, sodden pair of boxers above the water. She showed them to him, dripping, before dropping them into the water. They floated around the frothy surface of the hot tub, dancing with the bubbles, as her hand sunk back down between his legs.

”Oooo…” Josie giggled, “boxers and boy-juice…”

”Yeah make him come,” Aubrey then bluntly added, her eyes wide and fixed as she still bounced up and down, up and down, her own big breasts bobbing and floating, jiggling, water streaming off them in rivulets.

“Omigod please yes,” I heard myself moan, imagining the water around us briny, full of his seed. We would swim in it.

We watched as Melissa’s arm began to move back and forth. She was stroking him right in front of us! She’d tilted her chin up, mouth now open and expectant, eyes on his face. “Would you like that?” she asked him, “Want to help us make girl soup?”

He groaned, as Katarina slipped into the warm water with us.

Haha was mother’s milk an ingredient too? Maybe he was thinking the same thing as I watched his eyes follow her, lowering herself and her enormous breasts down until they floated buoyantly up off her thin body. 

There were seven of us now in a tub made for six. Amelia and now Katie sat on the edge, with pretty feet in the foaming water of our soup, the smell of chlorine and our perfumes making the air thick along with steam from the tub. Our legs all intermingled, hands drifted. I found one of mine cupping his left ankle. We all purred, and buzzed, and cooed.

”I’ve missed you, alllll day,” Melissa said to him, as she stroked his erection underwater, “Have you missed me too?”

”Y-y-yes,” he answered, the only answer acceptable.

”He’s had a hard day without you,” Aubrey said.

“Yes he so tired,” followed Katarina.

”Well, we’ll get him out in a few minutes, dry him off, get him inside so he can rest,” Melissa agreed, still stroking. She moved her other hand from a supportive position on his back to a position behind his sodden head and neck. “Dinner and movie night with your girls, hm? Sound nice?”

“y-y-yes,” he answered again.

“But first, more kisses…”

A new chorus of awws and ahhs filled the air around the tub as Dr J. and Melissa began to kiss again, her neck twisted down so her mouth could take his. Her right arm still moved in the same rhythm, as she tended to him below the surface, and we all saw his body first stiffen with the shock of the kiss, then start to shudder. Her mouth was so much bigger than his, and watching them kiss was thrilling. His breathing matched hers, his thin chest collapsing in on itself when she pulled breath from his lungs.

”Omigod Missy it looks like you’re sucking the life out of him!” Josie laughed.

Giggling, Melissa broke their kiss for a moment, allowing his head to loll back like a rag doll’s. “Maybe I am!” she beamed, once again taking his head from behind into her hand. She leaned back, and kissed him again, her ministrations to his manhood now taking on greater urgency. 

“Take it from him,” someone groaned. Maybe it was me.

“He is look so tired,” said Katarina, whose hand had begun stroking his left thigh, her big breast pressed down onto his knee.

“He’s had a big day,” Aubrey confirmed, watching the kiss, biting her lip as he began to shake.

“So big,” I said.

“It’s about to get even bigger,” Amelia commented, from the tub’s edge,as he really began to shake, “Josie, show him.”

At that, knowing exactly what our blonde friend meant, Josie put her breasts right beside his face. As he was kissing Melissa, his eyes turned to see her chest and goggle at them as they were nearly close enough to touch his face. Melissa’s hand was now moving more urgently under water, and he would be staring right at Josie’s breasts when he-

“That’s right, come for us,” Melissa purred.

He groaned, he moaned, he spasmed and jerked in Melissa’s embrace as, obviously, under the water he began to climax. I looked down and could see the ropey fluid, the thick semen jetting from his outsized manhood, swimming into the water around him and swirling into the currents, mixing with the froth and the chlorine and spiraling around. It floated, it sank, and as pulse after pulse came from him it began to eddy around the tub, among us, my eyes glazing over as I watched and…

…and then the growth began.

NNNNNnnnnghhhh….we all groaned, as the familiar feeling gripped us. Several times last night, but now stronger as we were all so close. I felt it in my bones, I felt it in my chest and in the fertile swelling of my thighs and rear. There was pain, yes, some, but it was delicious and I could see in the eyes of everyone we were all hungry for it. His eyes, in the meantime, were fixed and staring, still pasted to Josie’s breasts and - oh my god- he was watching her grow. 

Yes, it was subtle, it always was. But the swelling of her breasts in her bikini top was unmistakable. She bulged at it, strings now pulling more tightly than they had before from around her neck. Soft round flesh bubbled as she grew, as they inflated. I felt it in myself, too, as did we all. And then we heard him mutter, something small, something weak, as he stared at Josie’s breasts. It was quiet…but we heard it.

“bigger…” he said.

And Melissa began laughing.

“Oh my goodness, baby, yes!” she sang, as she shifted him in her lap. Her hand moved from between his legs, the other from behind his head. She had him by the sides of his bony chest, under his arms, then shifted a bit lower down his torso. “Look at how big we’re getting!” she cooed, turning him to face the group, “You’re giving us so much!”

At that she lifted him, slowly, with strength that was in no way normal, off her lap. His hips broke the surface, and we all gasped on seeing his cock. Then his thighs, his knees. She held him, now, aloft up and in front of us, a small but fully-grown man, and she held him like he was a toy, feet dangling into the water. He was naked, and he was huge. His penis, dropped now a bit from full-mast, seemed nearly as thick as his forearm, and it was still coming as we watched, all of us with eyes wide, mouths agog, some of us laughing. He was still pulsing, semi-thick member throbbing, releasing seed. It was slowing, yes, but he had already burst forth so much of his ejaculate it had begun to cloud the water, and now drip in heavy plops onto the surface and into the soup.

As he began to come down, his climax waning, Melissa slowly lowered him again to her lap, back into the pool of his own jism.

“Holy Lion King,” Amelia managed, as we all began to recover ourselves..

“Oh my god…” Aubrey said, from behind Josie. I saw her reach down, cup some water into her hand.

“Yeah huh?” Randi smiled, eyes flashing, looking down at him. His body was still spasmodically shaking but coming to a stillness in Melissa’s arms.

Semen all in the water, Amelia couldn’t help but kick her feet through it from where she sat on the hot tub’s edge. She was chuckling. “Watch out,” she told us, as we began to come down from our high, “you’re all going to get pregnant in there.”

Someone laughed, I think it was me, and I lowered my face to the water, mouth open, to drink the soup.

===========================================

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[cult-of-the-eye]

Ok I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna make the new hyperfixation post:

CRIMINAL MINDS:

I started watching it cause I was on the internet during the Dr Reid thirst trap era and let's just say a scrawny motherfucker with autism is the surefire way to get me to watch something

Especially when everyone is going through the horrors

I am in love with the format of the show, with the whole quotes and then different characters saying the quotes and the isolated cases with the slight hints of more background for each of the characters it's really keeping me going

I'm not great with gore and shit but like it's got shitty 2000s CGI so like it's easy to tell myself it's just actors with fake blood

Also listen I had to tap into my 9 yr old undiagnosed autistic obsessed with psychopaths phase at some point

It just tickles the right parts of my brain

Anyway the characters are why I stuck around

Gideon <3333 I love that strange walrus looking man I love how he's simultaneously such an emotional rock for everyone in the BAU but also dealing with his own things, he goes into each of the crimes with such calmness and compassion and I just love that weird old man especially when he introduced himself as Jason to the little girl he was saving in that one episode, i was like HE'S MAKING HIMSELF SEEM LIKE LESS OF A THREAT BY INTRODUCING HIMSELF WITH HIS FIRST NAMEEEE, HE'S TRYING TO PUT HER AT EASE

Hotch oh man it was one scene specifically that literally started my brainrot for this guy, I wasn't that into him in the first couple of episodes and then it was revealed that he was horrifically abused by his dad and actively chose to go into a pathway that would catch people like that and people who get abused and then go on to abuse others and I just. AH. i am such a sucker for any character who has endured things that no one ever should endure at the hands of another human being and then instead of becoming completely bitter and taking the eye for an eye mindset, they vow to make sure the cycle stops with them and they may not be all sunshine and daisies and instead rough a lot of the times but they do it and they do it realistically

He's got a wife and a kid!!! He did it!! He made a better life for himself and it makes me feel like I could too, he's so strong and I feel like my strength can one day be used for more than just survival

Elle!!!! God I love her I feel like she's so realistic for a woman in her field, she's smart and strong and capable and she acknowledges all the things she has going against her, she's compassionate to the female rape victims, she gets furious at the people targeting women in particular what i would do to be this woman's friend

Reid. Oh lord. Listen I'm not on the thirst trap train but I do understand the love for this guy. My love for him however stems from the autism. The whole wanting to be useful and only knowing how to through interests and hyperfixations and feeling like he's missing out on some things cause he's different

It was the hostage situation on the train that got to me he was just so REAL and it's so awesome to see autistic people succeed in stuff like this

It's also nice to see him accepted by the team for who he is

I do also like him cause he's cool but it's easier to explain the autism stuff

Garcia - wonderful amazing spectacular I love me a confident woman in stem

Morgan - i like how he's sort of the "cool guy" archetype but his whole thing is getting into the mind of the UnSub I feel like it gives him more depth

JJ - god she's so cool and calm under pressure I love her

So yeah. The BAU is my new comfort character crew I'm taking Elle with me everywhere

But also do I have major issues with the idea of behavioural analysis in crime? Absolutely. It is so insanely subjective the way they're going off of probability, the way their precedent probably lacks temporal validity and also population validity with both the androcentrism and ethnocentrism it does feel wrong to be coming to such a conclusion about the UnSub so quickly and decisively, even though I understand their whole thing is getting there quickly. I just know that categorising human behaviour is never as simple as it seems.

Do I think they tackle some of these issues in the show? Sort of. Am I also aware this is a fictional drama TV show and it may not be that deep? Yes.

Anyway

[the-lisechen]

~3k. copia/f!oc. rated gen. local catholic novitiate has dinner with satanic clergyman. it's not a date. (it isn't not a date.) 1/2

(thanks to @enjoy-my-swearing for the banner and the unending support!)

a little throwback for you, now available on tumblr!

say it slow and perfect, chapter 1/2 - ao3

This was a bad idea. 

Sophie had been given the gift of time, a rare occurrence in the lead up to her First Vows, and while Sister Gloria hadn't given her a set date to return to New York, stretching this trip out for another week might be pushing it. Seeing Appalachia-- home-- before she had to leave it to go on mission for an indefinite amount of time, well, that was a gift. That her family had conveniently timed a reunion in the months before her vows was an even greater one. They'd come to terms with her Catholicism, though it had taken some time. In that slew of vaguely defined but strongly believing Baptists, there wasn't a single one of them who would have known what an anchoress was, let alone the name Julian of Norwich. 

That was alright. They had never understood her, but they had always loved her, and that was more than enough. She was blessed, and she knew it, the force of her gratitude staggering if she let herself think about it for too long. 

Still, it was only her cousin she'd told about precisely which band she was going to see while she was in the neighborhood. 

"Hold up. Sophs, you gone go be a nun. Y'all allowed to listen to that? Ain't you gonna have to-- shit, I dunno, confess to your minister or something?"

"Priest, and no, you only have to confess to sins. Baller guitar riffs aren't sins, Lee. Sick tunes are non-denominational. Besides, I'm way more worried your mamma gone find out about it than Sister Gloria. Now pass the blunt. This here I will have to quit on."

That had been that. So she said, and so she believed. Lee had only known about them because he'd been a hardcore kid since they'd learned how to ride bicycles. If anything, he thought it was music for posers. It had been a blip, a nothing, an opportunity to see a damn good live show. A detour. Asheville wasn't so far out of her way, why not go to a concert while she could? So what if maybe she did feel a little weird about seeing a band like that after, it was very far down on her list of priorities in the run up to her vows. 

Six months kicking the tires on the whole idea, circling it like a lost dog creeping towards a campfire, coming to terms with the thought that something that felt so impossibly right could be hers. How she had wept when at last she'd told Sister Gloria that she wanted to begin discernment, when the woman had answered-- "Oh Sophie. You already have." A year in the congregation, and another two and a half in formation. It had been hard going, that first year, adapting to communal life. The structure of it, the routine, that had been a relief so strong it was almost like grieving, but the patience it required did not come naturally to her. And she was always, on some level, going to be angry. That was alright. Anger at the world's injustice was a great gift, she'd been told. And if she could use it in service for the poor, the marginalized, the persecuted-- the least of these-- then she wouldn't turn it away. She was going to need it, on mission. She'd need every tool she could get. 

Put against all of that, a rock show was small potatoes. But following them, putting another five hour drive between her and New York, accepting the personal invitation of a man- no matter how charming and polite- literally sworn to Satan-- that might be unwise. 

Yet here she was, boots thudding against the cobblestones, ducking under the low hanging branch of a live oak sprawling over a brick wall. And it was beautiful, wrought iron balconies, riots of flowers, that stately and sinister antebellum architecture everywhere you looked. Palm trees and salt air. There had been pirates here, once, and in this thick golden light heavy with the scent of jasmine, you could almost believe it. 

She could just dick around Charleston for a little while. Certainly there was enough to occupy her attention. What was she even going to say? It wasn't as if she'd gotten the man's number. No, this was a stupid plan. This wasn't even a plan. 

Fine. If it wasn't a plan, it wouldn't matter if it didn't work. She would give it a shot, see what happened, and when nothing did, she'd sleep in the car and start back for the convent tomorrow. With this comforting thought in her head, she rounded the corner towards the venue, and stepped out into the courtyard of a beautiful neoclassical building, ready for anything. 

It looked like a goth convention holding a picnic. She was instantly charmed. They must have lined up for hours, the lot of them spilled onto the grass, under umbrellas and sharing food and chattering away, lively as blackbirds, and as beautiful. 

They seemed impossibly young to her, a specter of her own teenage years. Even now her wardrobe tended towards the monochromatic, but this exuberance, these ostentatious displays, the defiant declaration of non-conformity-- it was like looking at your high school yearbook. She could have been one of them. Had been one of them. Still was one of them, wasn't she? That didn't go away, not with all the years and all the changes. It was a comforting thought. 

Hard not to feel like something of an anachronism, picking her way through the crowd in her skinny jeans and her faded Huggy Bear t-shirt. Maybe she should have worn black, just to blend in. It wasn't as if she had that much variation in her wardrobe. Too late now. She was what she was. Project confidence. She'd been invited, sent for, even. 

Shoulders back, head up, she found a man with biceps bigger than her head and an earpiece on near the door.  "Sir? Excuse me. The Cardinal asked for me?" She could feel the flesh beside her spine tensing. "Sophia Turner."

The man considered her, dubious. She folded her hands in front of her and smiled her best Nice White Lady smile while he murmured into his headset. He looked up at her with a sharp glance. 

"The Dominican."

Ah. There it was. "That's me." She settled her weight a little more evenly on the balls of her feet. Amiable on top; iron underneath. "The order, not the nationality," she said, her smile bland as it could be. 

"Guess so. Yeah, go on in." Still eyeing her with some suspicion, he opened the door for her. 

"Thank you kindly, sir," she said, in her best redneck drawl, smile bright, as she ducked into the darkened lobby. The air conditioning was a shock after the thick warmth of the outside air, her footsteps echoing on the mosaic tile. It had been a grand old movie theatre, once, stylized murals on the wall depicting some sort of mediterranean seascape, vaguely Egyptian capitals on the columns, gilded molding everywhere. She wandered forward, head craned up to take in what looked to be a pretty decent restoration job, when a voice out of the darkness made her jump. 

"Sister Turner?"

Her choked-off yelp echoed in the cavernous space, and the strangeness of the figure addressing her wasn't exactly conducive to slowing her heart rate. "Excuse me! Ah. Not a sister, not quite yet." Why on earth had one of the backup musicians come to collect her? And already in costume! Strange. "But yes, that's me."

His teeth were very white in the dark. "Very well. If you'll come this way, ma'am?" The man's voice carried strangely in the lobby, but she stepped through the door he held open for her gamely enough. He was very tall, and seemed solid all the way through. An odd smell near him, cool and mineral, like damp stone. She thought of rivers deep in caves, places she'd gone to as a child. Chthonic. A shiver ran through her, and the air conditioning seemed very intense indeed. 

She kept pace with him, a step behind, through the barely-organized chaos of serious people with serious jobs securing last minute adjustments ahead of a major performance. Her head was on a swivel, taking in this completely foreign world. No panic, here, but a crushing sense of urgency, scurrying around with the feverish intensity of a kicked-over ant colony.  She trotted along in the big man's wake, following that strange mineral smell. After several twists, turns, and two stairwells, he deposited her in the wings, stage right. 

She looked up into his insectile goggles as he paused, staring down at her. It was more than a little unsettling. Finally, he spoke. "The Cardinal regrets that he will not have time to meet with you until after the ritual, but you are welcome to watch from here. He said that you may find it edifying." Something in the acoustics gave his words a strange whipsaw buzz, and if she were a less rational person, she might have found it eerie. 

As it was, she could only blink up at him. "Ah. Th--thank you, Mister--?"

He only tilted his head at her, and she got the impression of something that might have been a smile. Then he pressed a water bottle into her hands-- it was startlingly cold-- and receded into the shadows. 

She twisted the cap compulsively, off and back on, off and back on, and settled back to watch. 

And from this perspective, it was difficult to call it anything other than it was-- a ritual was right. Spectacle, yes, and even if it was so far beyond her experience she had to admire the skill of it, projecting to the back seats but playing to his people, the ones right out front that had sat for hours, the painted faces and total exuberance. They loved him, loved them, and he served it right back. He gave them a lewdness that was so exaggerated as to loop right back around to innocent. Fun all the way down to the rumble behind the sternum, and shot through with joy, joy, joy. She was far enough away to observe, knowing full well what it was to be back in that crowd. Maybe not right in front, but that amorphous and livewire energy surged through the whole place, right up to the rafters. Close enough to feel it, and somewhere in there she realized her cheeks were wet with an unconscious enthrallment, the kind of awe she felt for thunderstorms slamming the mountains, for the high arch and hush of medieval cathedrals. 

Hard to deny, joy. 

When it was over, he sauntered back into the wings with the air of a man wrung out and satisfied, as if he had completed a some particularly difficult piece of manual labor, something that required both stamina and craftsmanship. Building a barn, perhaps. Or fucking someone's brains out, her traitor mind supplied. She pushed the thought away as he looked down at a cheap bouquet of roses someone had tossed onstage at the last minute. Carefully, he picked out the note attached with a rubber band and hope, unfolded it, and paused to read. He rocked back on his heels, drawing in a sharp breath. After a moment, he nodded, folded it back up, and tapped it against his other hand while he stared off into the middle distance. He slid it back under the rubber band, and passed the bouquet off to a stage tech. "Please, don't let me lose that one, eh? Thank you."

That bit of business accomplished, he scanned the backstage, and saw her. His face lit up, a flare gun going off at the side of the road in the dark. He pushed it back down, and trotted up to her like a golden retriever. 

"Miss Turner," very formal, even as she saw the sweat on him and practically felt the afterglow coming off of a performance. Off of that performance. he nodded at one of his backup musicians-- ghouls, really? strange-- and made a little gesture at him, an impatient 'give me a minute' sort of motion, before turning back to her. Being under the full force of his regard, even for a moment, was disorienting. "I did not expect the pleasure of your company again." He clasped his hands together and beamed at her, and she couldn't even think of what to say. How could she? She'd seen him on that stage just last night, albeit from far away. It shouldn't have been a surprise. But it was difficult, now, to connect the uninhibited strutting and sheer spectacle of his performance to the man she had walked with the night before. Yet here he was, smiling at her as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. "I am very glad that you came."

"Well. I-- you are, still, real good at your job."

"That is very-- oh, all right. Yes. I will be right there. My apologies, Miss Turner, if you would-- I'll be with you shortly, some things to wrap up--" He made to put his hand on her back, to guide her, and stopped short of actually touching her. "Kevin, would you see the lady to the green room?"

"Of course, don't worry about it, you're busy, do your thing, sorry to interrupt, really--" Sheer drivel coming out of her mouth, now, and she couldn't seem to stop it. 

He moved off with one of the ghouls, looking back over his shoulder at her with a nod and a lopsided smile, before turning his full attention to his band mate. And it was his full attention. She watched his focus shift, arms folded, completely present as the ghoul articulated whatever concern he had, she was too far away to quite hear, and the pitch of his voice was-- strange. Those masks. It had to be. Copia put a hand on the ghoul's shoulder, and she could just make out his voice: "--has merit, yes. I will consider it, consider, I am not saying yes now. I will have an answer for you by the next show. Now--" Odd, that she could hear the cardinal but not his musician. Mollified, the ghoul nodded at him and moved off, and Copia turned to the next concern, and--

"Ma'am? If you'll come with me."

"Oh! Yes, of course."

After the man led her through a few more dark corridors, she was ushered in to a well-lit room of whitewashed cinderblocks, with a couple of battered couches and a table full of water bottles, sodas, snacks, a kuerig. She didn't know why she expected a green room to be green-- probably a stupid thought. A little dazed, still, reeling from being that close to that energy, a force almost impersonal in its impact. 

Too nervous to sit, she put her back against a wall in an out of the way corner. She smiled politely at the bustle of stage hands, technicians, and a few of the, well, ghouls wandering in and out. One of them grinned widely at her, his teeth startlingly white. Odd, you would think that after the jungle-thick heat of the stage, they would want to take off their masks. Best not to think of it. 

She grabbed a bottle of water, twisting the cap almost compulsively, just for something to do with her hands. Wished desperately for a cigarette. Conversations drifted over her and she didn't hear a word of them. 

"--yes, it was well done. I do appreciate it." Her head snapped up at the sound of his voice, and she saw the moment he saw her, a flash of delight and disbelief there and gone again. The man was never going to be inconspicuous, she thought, but she supposed he might pass for casual, if not for the eye makeup. A particularly goth college professor, perhaps, in that well-cut blazer with a red pocket square. Every girl's crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man, she thought, and grinned. 

He smiled back, slow and a trifle lopsided. "We'll speak tomorrow," he said to his companion, not taking his eyes from her. "If you'll excuse me-- Miss Turner." He shoved his hands in his pockets as he approached, an oddly adolescent gesture. "Thank you for joining me."

"Thank you for having me." She felt a little underdressed, all of a sudden. "Interesting perspective to have on a performance like that."

"Providing you with a different perspective will always be a delight, I think. Tell me, have you eaten?"

"I could eat."

"I've been assured of a place a little ways away. If you would--?"

"Be happy to." She fell into step in his wake, through the maze of the backstage, all harsh fluorescent light and aggressive air-conditioning. "I liked your tricycle."

"Ehh, it is a good touch, I think. It does not do to take oneself too seriously."

"Of course." She looked at him sidelong, his hair slicked back and still damp, a faint air of leather and vanilla-- he'd put on cologne for her. Was taking her to dinner. Miraculously, she managed not to blurt out the thought-- is this a date? but it blindsided her nonetheless.

Preposterous. Ridiculous thought. 

He held the door for her and she stepped out into the low-country velvet heat. A relief, after all that air conditioning. Sodium streetlights down the alleyway, that orange light falling through an oak tree dripping with spanish moss. "This here feels like it's getting to be a habit."

"There are worse habits to have, I think. Or perhaps I flatter myself. Here I am, everything you stand against."

"Oh honey, you are so far down the priority list I can't even see you from here. Besides, it could be worse. You could be a Republican."

She wanted to take the delighted noise he made at that and keep it safe forever, something she could take out and cup her hands around for warmth on cold winter nights. Total hotshot pride. 

They stepped to the corner together and like some great mythological beast an actual yellow cab cruised down the street in their direction. He looked at her. She looked at him. Having reached an agreement just that fast, he flagged it down, something spooky about the timing as it pulled up, some sense of barely perceptible synchronicities lining up in a vast machine.  He opened the door for her, almost without thought, a courtliness she recognized as bone-deep. 

With perfect trust, Sophie got in the taxi.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

top 5 wips you’re most excited to write? :D

AH …. anon my beloved 🥺🥺🥺 tysm for giving me an excuse to talk about them!!!! i have a whole bunch but here are the ones i’m most excited for/planning to write soon :3 hopefully

TITLES ARE STILL UNDER CONSTRUCTION BTW but if you know where any of them are from you get a big gold star ⭐️

it’s your touch that i need

the best friend’s brother!satoru fic that i’m planning on posting next….. i’m . Unsure if i’ll have time to post it this week but :’3 i’ll get it done!!! honestly i just think bfb!toru is insanely attractive so this is mostly an outlet for that but . i have a plot mapped out kind of… the unrequited love trope is just perfect for him but it’s Me so it’ll probably be less angsty and more funny/bittersweet !!

here’s a snippet from it <3

”you’re a good kid,” he says, and his smile teeters on the edge of something apologetic. mostly, it’s pitying. ”there are lots of people out there for you.” the weight of his palm on your head is usually a comfort, but like this? it’s a specific kind of torture. he ruffles your hair, as affectionate as ever, the same as it’s always been. not a trace of any romantic intent. there are lots of people out there for you. (i know, you want to tell him, but your voice is raspy and your throat feels sort of dry. i know. but i want you.)

hunter, you were human

my neglected mer!sugu fic…… our beloved fish man….. one day. i’ll write it out. i’m having some trouble deciding the order of events + general formatting of the outline so 😭😭 i’m a bit stuck. i’ll get there though!!! this au has angst potential but it’s Me so trust that this will be fluffy and nothing else. lots of banter and cutesy moments. i have a lotttt of thoughts about this au and character/reader dynamic so….. i’m. really excited to eventually write it all out!!! i love him sm :cc

“i don’t really like freshwater.” … your eyes widen. his voice is silky, smooth, like a silver river running from the forked tip of his tongue; a melodic lilt that makes you think of the lullaby your mother used to sing you to sleep with. a long, slow moment passes you by, like the rocking of a rusty ship. silently, your tongue forms around a bundle of words, your mouth gaping like a fish out of water. staring at the merman in your bathtub. “you can talk?!”

consider the hairpin turn

THE BELOVEDEST OF THEM ALL …… my extremely neglected best friend’s brother!kenjaku fic T_T my magnum opus even . i started writing it out a while ago but had to stop bc i can’t decide how to format it …. i think it’d be best to tell the story through a lot of flashbacks but it’s difficult to decide where to put what flashbacks in a way that doesn’t disturb the flow, yk??? but i do have everything outlined and i’m super excited to finally post it :33 someday… bfb!kenny is the actual loml i have so much lore planned for him. this fic is just a whole bunch of yearning and tension… the tiniest tiniest bit suggestive bc he truly makes me ill.

nervously, your gaze trails towards the stairs. worried, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip. kenjaku notices. a large palm cradles your cheek; making sure your eyes stay locked onto his own. ”don't worry about him,” he soothes, a rough thumb smoothing down your skin. ”it’s just us here… just you and me. why don’t you take a deep breath for me, hm?” (you do. without thinking. as if your body was waiting for instructions, waiting to satiate this gnawing desire to impress him, make him proud. be good for him.)  “now,” he exhales, in tandem with you, molecules mingling together. “do you want this?” 

only in the next world

ANOTHER DEARLY BELOVED WIP that’s been rotting in my drafts for a while ….. 👉👈 i think that out of all of these fics this is the first one that i wrote the outline to?? probably even before i made this blog. it’s basically just a canon-aligned au where gojo navigates his maybe-possibly-feelings for you, a new teacher at jujutsu high!! sooo really just my attempt to write what i view as a more canon-aligned gojo and his feelings towards love :3 mostly character-centered fluff and slowburn… some office au vibes…. i’m very fond of this reader!! and i love this version of gojo so bad i really hope i can do him justice…

“they’re a softie, huh?” shoko exhales — smoke drifting past her lungs, mingling with the cold air, a stench of tobacco that makes him crinkle his nose. ”they are,” she hums, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. a dangerously knowing look. “it’s not often someone captures your attention.” gojo smiles. ”is that what it seems like?” he drawls, almost a chuckle. closing his eyes and thinking of you, the fading scent of your perfume. ”well, who knows.” (certainly not him.)

signs of affection

my sickeningly fluffy cult leader geto fic <333 bc i’m spreading the agenda that he is a puppy of a man towards his s/o. this one is just meant to be funny and sweet!! i adoreee the thought of him dating a retired sorcerer with a normal ass job so in this one the reader works at a preschool…. and they’re meant to attend some kind of event for the preschool + is offered to bring a plus one. mild chaos ensues (geto doesn’t want to be anywhere near your non-sorcerer colleagues but he also wants to support you so he’s having a bit of a crisis rn…..) i LOVE this one and i’m so excited to write it out <333333 i think this geto is the most endearing man alive.

suguru blinks, eyelashes fluttering, gleaming under the shallow light of the lamppost just behind him. illuminating the peach-dyed flush dusting his ears, those wide pupils. and his lips, glossy with something cherry-flavoured, soon to curl up into a smile — fond, fond, fond. melting into your touch, basking in your long-sought attention. if he were a cat, you’re sure he'd be purring. he places one big palm over yours, where it rests on his cheek, and he stares. silently, like you’re the only thing worth seeing; dreamy galaxies inside his eyes, all honey and star clusters, leaking adoration. a milky way of love. ”… another,” he pleads, nosing at your fingertips.

[okminer07]

Not a Cave

This is a fanfiction including and about one of @verefex 's characters. I really admire their art and their characters. Might write more, depending on whether people enjoy this. Huge shoutout to @verefex, y'all should really check out their art, it's epic, and also for inventing this character.

She ran. She ran faster than she ever had before. Every bush and bramble she passed seemed to hook onto her skirt and rip it, slowly her down. Her throat burned and her eyes prickled with tears whenever she heard a snarl or bark.   

What had she been thinking?! Going alone to save money had at first sounded fine, even smart. So what if she was new around these parts? She had a map and some directions given to her by the customer. There didn’t seem to be a need for an escort. She wasn’t even supposed to be in the woods, she had only gone in to save some time, under the assumption that during the day it would remain friendly to her.  

Her mistake was made crystal clear as she looked over her shoulder and saw the glint of several pairs of yellow eyes. She whipped her head back around and pounded forward. Her arms ached from the weight of the basket clutched in her arms. Why she hadn’t discarded it she had no idea. Did she really value completing the order over her life?   

She shrieked as one of the wolves bounded forward, launching itself towards her and just barely missing her ankles. It wouldn’t be much longer until they wore her down and she’d be done for. 

Opal whipped her head around, causing her to stumble over herself as she looked for a possible escape. All the trees around her were far too tall or devoid of low-hanging branches, there were no hollowed-out logs, and there didn’t seem to be anywhere she could go.  

Then, she spotted it. Her oasis in the desert. Up ahead was an expanse of dark rock and along it, a large, particularly round opening. 

With a renewed vigor, she sprinted towards it. As she neared, she was pleased to see not only was the opening plenty big enough but also was elevated a bit off the ground. Luckily enough, a couple oddly shaped formations surrounding it that she could climb up. 

She ran right up to it and jumped, dropping the basket of pastries as she did. Her fingers burned as they latched onto the dark rocks and pulled herself up. With a quick look behind her, spotting the approaching pack of wolves, she scurried up the remaining way and finally heaved herself into the cave.  

Rolling over onto her back, she gasped for air. Her arms and legs burned, not only from exhaustion but from the many scratches she had procured. She sat up and anxiously looked down at the ground below. The wolves had come to a stop, the whole lot of them glaring up at her as they paced along the rock face. A part of her had worried that they would try and climb up after her, but none of them did anything to suggest that they were planning to do so. They also didn’t look like they were planning to be leaving anytime soon.  

Groaning, she fell against the cave wall. Peering back down at the ground, she spotted her basket, lying atop one of the rocks. A couple of croissants and danishes had fallen out but other than that, everything seemed intact.   

Okay. She thought, I’ll just have to wait them out. They’re sure to get bored of me sooner or later. If they don’t try and go after the pastries, I just might still be able to get to Mrs. Pakerton’s place and hopefully, she’ll be gracious enough to let me spend the night.  

That plan seemed good enough. She nodded to herself, settling against the wall and staring off into the depths of the cave. She was no miner but the shape did strike her as a bit odd. The roundness of the opening seemed to continue down into the depths, the high ceilings ever so slightly moving in a downward slant. The walls all looked and felt incredibly smooth and slightly… warm? Strange.  

Opal began to wonder, was this some sort of carved-out mine entrance? If it was, it was quite a large one, with the ceiling reaching a good fifteen to twenty feet high. Also if it were a mine, it had to have been relatively fresh, due to the lack of any offshoot tunnels, or at least as far as she could see.   

Her curiosity continued to rise as she peered down the tunnel. Maybe there were more tunnels, Maybe there was some equipment left over that she could use, maybe there was another way out! It couldn’t hurt for her to go and see.   

She turned and pulled open her satchel. Digging around in it, she quickly found what she was looking for and pulled out her flint and steel along with a tiny torch she had made herself. With a few strikes, the tip caught fire. Storing everything back into her bag, she stood up, torch in hand.  It did little to illuminate the tunnel, but at least she would be able to stop herself from running into anything.   

With one last look over her shoulder at the wolves still patrolling outside, she began making her way deeper into the cave.   

The first few steps, nothing. There continued to be no other tunnels or anything for that matter. There was something eerie about it. Something unnatural. Opal was about to turn around when something glinted in the darkness. She whipped around and hurried forward, holding her light out towards the wall where she had seen the sparkle.  

Her eyes widened. Laced within the stone was one of the largest rubies she had ever seen. It had to be at least as large as her head, maybe bigger! She gaped at it, staring at her own reflection against the gem’s surface.    

She looked up and shined the torch down the tunnel once more. Her mouth dropped as she spotted several other glimmers in the darkness. She hurried over to each of them and was ecstatic to see that every one of them was another ruby, just as big and beautiful as the next one.   

She practically grinned from excitement. I… I can’t believe it! One of those would be enough to keep the bakery open for the next few seasons! Maybe more! If that were the case, there would be less stress to constantly be making deliveries, leaving her little brother home alone. She could probably hire someone else to make the deliveries, and then she would be free to simply bake and watch over Oliver.   

Another plan began to form in her mind. As soon as she was able to leave, she’d still make her way over to Mrs. Pakerton’s home. When she was there (hopefully not empty-handed), she would ask to borrow a pickaxe or something of the sort from her. If she refused, Opal could come up with some sort of deal to give her, maybe one or two free baskets of pastries in return? Yes, that would work. She’d hurry back here as soon as she could and mine up as many of these rubies as she could before heading back home. There was a man she knew who had a stall set up in the market where he sold all sorts of jewelry, he would most definitely pay her a good deal of gold to get his hands on just one of these.   

She looked back into the depths. How many more were there? With a cheerful pep in her step, she ventured deeper.   

The tunnel had continued to grow smaller, though never enough that it was claustrophobic. It also strangely didn’t seem to be sloping downwards, but upwards. So much so that Opal stumbled when it all of a sudden began to go back down. She uneasily ran down the slope only to come to a stop when she came face to face with a wall of stone. 

This was it? Did the tunnel really just end here? She peered around, looking for another opening. Just as before, it seemed it was just this tunnel. She narrowed her eyes at the wall in front of her. It was a different shade of gray than all the stone around it, it was lighter and looked less dense. She placed her hand upon it, running it along the wall’s surface.   

Suddenly, a loud and low rumble rang out, vibrating the entire cave. She froze, pulling her hand away and silently looking around her. What was that? The noise was so unfamiliar to her. She had never heard something that loud yet sound so nonchalant at the same time. Was there a storm brewing? No… that wouldn’t make the cave rattle, would it?    

Just as her heart began to settle, the ground beneath her began to move. She shrieked as it slid out beneath her and was sent rolling along the walls which seemed to be… spinning? The walls and the cave around her felt like they were rotating.  

As suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Opal slid down the stone walls and into a disheveled heap. Swatting the sandy brown locks of hair out of her face, she stared tentatively at the space she was in. Her heart pounded in her ears as she waited for something else to happen. However, She could never have been prepared for what happened next.  

“I know someone’s in there.”  

Opal’s blood ran cold as a deep masculine voice thundered in her ears. She whipped her head around, expecting to see someone right behind her, but the tunnel was empty.  

“Who are you?”  

She couldn’t pinpoint where that thunderous voice was coming from. It sounded as if from every which way, all around her. It was so loud that the cave floor beneath her rumbled along with it. How could something- someone by the sounds of it be so loud?   

“W-w-who… wh-who a-are you?” she stuttered out.  

“I asked first, you answer me first. Who are you?”    

“N-nobody, j-just someone p-p-p-passing through th-these parts. W-where are you? S-s-show yourself!”   

A chill ran down her spine as a deep chuckle vibrated within her ears, “Trying to be brave I see… or perhaps you’re just stupid. Has to be one of the two, or you wouldn’t be in there.”  

Opal narrowed her eyes, “H-how do you know w-where I am?!”  

“I can hear you, stupid.”   

Her fear was now fighting with a growing anger at this mysterious voice, “W-well… C-come down and t-talk to me face to face!”   

The voice chuckled again, “You want to speak face to face, huh?”   

Before she could answer, the entire cave began to move once more. This time, however, the ground was slowly going vertical. Opal scrambled to find something, anything to hang onto, but she was already starting to slide down. She clawed at one of the nearby walls and managed to hook her fingers onto one of the rubies, bringing her to a sudden stop.   

Her heart hammered as she looked down at her dangling feet, spotting that the entrance to the cave was now below her. She struggled to hold on, her arms starting to ache and her fingers starting to slip. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to hang on. 

“Come on now. You’re only making it harder for yourself,”  

The entire cave gave a great shudder as if something from outside had collided with it. Her fingers gave way, leaving her sliding back down the cave floor. She screamed, approaching the cave’s mouth and towards what looked like even more rock.   

The wind was violently knocked out of her, finally hitting solid ground. Opal clutched at her chest, gasping for breath. Her body ached from the harsh impact against the rock, causing her to groan as she heaved herself up. 

She shook her head, holding a hand to her forehead as she looked around. As she had thought, she had fallen onto some more rock, and by the looks of it, the same kind of rock as the cave. But where did this rock come from? And why did it look so… unnatural.   

As her eyes scrutinized this new landscape, they fell upon something familiar, her basket. Somewhat relieved to see it still intact, she hurried over and scooped it up along with any pastries that had fallen out.   

Suddenly, the ground beneath her began to lurch forward, sending Opal and her basket down. She clutched the basket tightly as the ground continued to move. What the-  The ground came to a stop and she looked up.  

She froze. Every blood vessel within her froze. She was looking at a face. A face so large it blocked out the sun and consumed her entire field of vision. A face with deep red eyes, and irises bigger than she was. Hair with strands thick as rope, the color of magma, and bulky and flowy like lava. Bits of large ruby were peppered around this thing’s cheeks and chin as if it were stubble or a beard.       

For one blissful moment, she could have told herself that what stood before her was just a statue, that nothing that big could ever actually be alive. But then that face grinned down at her, revealing enormous, pearly white teeth. Now there was no doubt about it, this thing, this walking mountain, was alive.   

“What’s with the face? Isn’t this what you wanted? To talk face to face.”   

Opal’s hands flew up and clamped over her ears. This creature’s voice was like a crash of thunder. Her entire body begged her to run, to get away from this thing, but she couldn’t. She was frozen there with her heart beating against her ribcage.   

“So, are you gonna tell me what you were doing in my ear, little one?”    

Her eyes were in danger of tumbling out her skull. The cave, the unnatural shape, the strange movements, the rubies… it had never been a cave at all. Before, she hadn’t run into a cave, but this thing’s ear. And now… now she was sitting in this thing's hand.  

She gulped down the bile building up in her throat. Was it mad? What did it want from her? What would it do to her?   

“I-I..I-I-I…” she closed her eyes, “I-I’m s-s-sorry.”    

The being raised a brow, “Did you say something? Now that you’re not up in there, I can’t hear you if you mumble.”   

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” she screamed, closing her eyes and clutching her basket.  

The being didn’t respond. Slowly, she cracked open her eyes. She shrieked and backpedaled away. The being had leaned down and seemed to be trying to get a better look at her, its eyes becoming the only thing she could see.   

“What’s that you got there?”    

Opal’s eyes flicked down to the basket in her arms. Her mouth had gone entirely dry, but she was terrified what this thing would do if she didn’t give some sort of response so she pulled back the checkered- cloth and held up one of the cheese danishes with a trembling hand.  

The being’s eyes widened before it let out a thunderous laugh, “Haha! Must be my lucky day,” the being leaned away while bringing its hand, and by extension Opal closer, “I don’t suppose you would be willing to part with those?”  

She looked down at the basket. What could a being so large possibly want with a couple dozen pastries? You know what? What did it matter, if that was what would increase her chances of surviving this then to hell with the delivery. 

Her hands felt like lead as she held the basket up and towards the being, clearly in offering… or surrender. The being smiled but didn’t move to take it. Instead, one of his turret-sized fingers beckoned her forward.   

She stood up, her legs like jelly, and cautiously made her way towards the fingers. Now that she knew she wasn’t on just any old rock, she noticed the intricate grooves below her. In an effort to keep her head, she kept her eyes focused on these lines and not the being they belonged to.   

As she stepped onto its middle finger, her stomach dropped as it leaned forward and its jaws parted, revealing an orange-tinted mouth that emitted steam. She gasped and closed her eyes, trembling from head to foot. When nothing happened, she peeked one eye open. The cavernous mouth stood wide open before her, but the creature didn’t budge. It simply held its hand up to its mouth, as if expecting… 

Opal paled, realizing what it wanted her to do. She gulped, staring up and down the finger before ever so slowly taking a step closer, and then another, and then another. With every step she took, she braced herself to be ready to run in the opposite direction, shimming along sideways with the basket clutched to her chest.   

The creature's humid breath blew in her face, blowing her hair and skirt back. She glanced behind her, only to have a moment where she wasn’t staring into this thing’s gullet which she was just nearly inside of.    

She came up to its fingernail, about three times as long as she was tall. The being’s mouth surrounded her, the pulsating walls and tongue starting to stir with impatience. Screwing up her face into a determined visage, Opal pulled out one of the pastries and chucked it into the giant maw. It landed on the being’s tongue who hummed happily in response, somehow able to taste what was comparatively a single crumb.   

She threw in another one, and another, and another. She kept going until she held in her hand one last croissant. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and threw it as hard as he could, spun around, and sprinted as fast as she could away from the being’s open mouth.  

Collapsing in the being's palm, she heard the being snap its jaws shut and swallow. It hummed happily. 

“Mmm, been a while since I’ve had human cooking. Never fails to delight me.”  

Opal let out a low whimper as the being moved its hand away. She turned to see it smirking down at her.   

“Now, I think you’ve at least earned an introduction.” The being’s other hand appeared and Opal shrieked as it speedily approached, raising her arms in front of her and bracing herself, “D’aw, aren’t you a skittish little thing.” 

She lowered her arms and looked up. A massive finger hovered a foot away from her. 

“Raoul, but just Ra works too,” She… she wasn’t sure how to respond to that, not until this thing- Ra, gave his finger a slight wiggle. Tentatively, she reached out and placed her hand onto it, though she kept the rest of her as far away as possible, “What do you call yourself?”  

“O-Opal”  

Ra chuckled, the magnitude of it making her bones vibrate, “Gonna have to speak up.”  

“Opal!” she shouted.     

“Opal, Opal…” he smirked to himself, “Well Opal. I’ve decided to let you go.” Her eyes widened, “Under one condition. You come back tomorrow with more of those pastries." She went white as a sheet. Come back? Willingly? “Do we have a deal?”   

She frantically nodded.  

Ra grinned. Opal’s stomach plummeted as the hand beneath her began to lower. She watched in awe and terror as the massive being began to crouch down. The wind rushed past her as she soared downwards and was thrown off her feet when his hand began to move forward and onto the ground.    

His hand landed on the ground with a loud crash as several trees were crushed beneath it. “Go on then.” Opal didn’t need to be told twice, she hurried over to the tip of his pinky and slid down to the ground, her ankles and knees buckling beneath her from the fall, “I’ll be at Deadman’s lake, don’t keep me waiting.”   

She nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground. The ground trembled violently, and loud crashes rang through the air as Ra took his leave, leveling a good deal of the forest in his wake.