#why havent i hit the bottom

[brainrot-stitch]

WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK ALASTOR WITHOUT THE RADIO EFFECT???? WHAT????????? LIKE I AM HORRIFIED I AM ACTUALLY SO SHOCKED AND BEWILDERED RN BUT I ALSO KINDA WANNA HEAR MORE ITS SO ODD HES LIKE A SPECIMIN IN A JAR U GET TO STUDY FR

[the-passer-outer]

the rot the rot the rot the rot the rot the rot the rot the rot the rot the rot the rot the rotthe rot the rot the rot the rot the rot the rot the rot the rot the rot the rot the rot the rot the r

[chiscaralight]

Scaramouche x fatui! Harbinger reaader and reader is a higher rank than him.. Ive seen this a couple times before and it has me soaked everytime.

hehehehehhe nsfw balladeer!scara x reader. feels like i havent written for my stink in years. slight degradation?

this should be so embarrassing—it shouldn't even be happening. but why does it feel so good if it wasn't meant to be? why do you constantly find yourself wandering into his chambers in the dead of night so he can have his way with you? or more importantly, why was it so important today that you couldn't even wait for the moon to rise?

the reason will remain unknown to you, but the balladeer remains the answer. your front is pressed flat against his desk, bottom half completely exposed as he pounds into you with that sinister smile you don't even have to look back to see. shit, you're a higher rank than him, you should be the one bending him over! but with the way his cold fingers are pressing against the fat of your hips, dragging your body back into his as he hits that spot that makes you cry out his name with each thrust.

his speed is dizzying, and his grip on your hair is inhumane. the balladeer's lips are mere centimeters away from your ears, sickly spitting about how stupid you look going dumb on his cock. you're quick to oppose him in meetings and speak out on almost everything he lays down. but you take every single thrust he gives like it was your only purpose. such a big, bad harbinger like you getting their brain fucked out by someone lower ranked, what would your subordinates think, hm?

but his words hold no weight to you once his mouth finds your neck because you're already writhing from the pleasure of the bites he's adorning you with. he's freeing one of his hands to stretch it down, barely bumping his nimble fingers against your clit. your hand is flying towards his, desperately trying to get more touch out of him, but he only laughs. the fact you think you have any sort of power here is so amusing; pitiful actually.

"m-my lord! i was told to deliver some documents to you from Childe."

the voice behind the door is muffled by the thick wood, but the words are loud and clear. your eyes widen at the thought of seeing you like this, but the balladeer is faster. your face is being pressed into the material of his desk as his eyes meet yours and his voice is a low whisper.

"aww, are you scared of your subordinates seeing you so useless? what if I was to let him in and see you like this?"

you're not sure if the tears welling in your eyes are from how sensitive you're getting or the reputation riding on your head was about to be damaged, but the silent plea of your eyes is enough for him to barely bite back a smile. pure fear, that's one thing he doesn't get to see so much from you. so in exchange for this euphoric feeling you've given him, he'll spare you just this once.

"bring them back tomorrow. i'm busy."

"but my lord, the eleventh-"

"will the eleventh bring you back to life once i rid your body of life?"

"i-i will be back tomorrow, my lord."

the padding away of feet has your mouth opening in a relieved breath. but you're more concerned about why the man behind you has stilled his movements.

the balladeer is more than convinced that since he helped you such a great amount, you owe him something—a show. which is why he's leaned back on the large seat in his office with you completely bare, bouncing on him like some cheap whore. you're not sure what's more humiliating; the fact that he's still practically fully clothed or the shameless staring at you. eyes raking over your body as you move on top of him. your nails are digging into the fabric resting on his shoulders for balance, but the way his hands are holding your waist is more than enough to keep you in place.

but you are much too slow for his liking today, and he wants to pump you full as much as possible, as soon as possible. so he's almost throwing you down, pushing your leg up, and sliding back in with ease. his kiss is as harsh as he is, full of moans and tongues clashing, but it only fuels that heat in your belly as he picks up his pace. you're whining about how you need to cum, begging pathetically for your release. the only answer you get is rough circles to your clit once again as your eyes roll back, noises being silenced by the balladeer's other free hand pressing against your mouth. after all the stupid crying you do, you do absolutely nothing to actually try to shut the slightest bit up from your orgasm, so annoying.

he'll shake you awake, then tell you to fuck off from his office. you'll redress in silence and head for the door, but hell stop you just before you leave. before you can question, his lips are hot on yours once again, pressing your back against the wood as you slide your hands into his hair. you can swear you hear him groan as you grind your hips forward, but he'll pull back regardless. his fingers will adjust the collar of your shirt you can never seem to get right, then usher you out once the large hall is clear. he'll stare at the spot you just left, eyes practically burning holes in the carpet with a strong scowl on his face. he can still feel your skin against yours and it pisses him off. he misses it.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 3- Easier Said Than Done

Summary: Frankie's been by your side through some of the hardest moments in your life. Three years have gone by, and now there's no one you want to see less when you find yourself at your lowest.

Word Count: 4.1K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Angst, yearning, mentions of death, sick parent, descriptions of a panic attack, hospitals, teenage Frankie's back at it again making it impossible for us to hate him!!

A/N: Hello, my name is Madeline and I am unable to stop writing gut wrenching angst and yearning. (Hi, Madeline). Maybe one of these days I'll stop sobbing like an idiot when I write, but I fear that day may not be coming any time soon

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

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You, Spring of 2006, Age 17

Most people say it’s the smell of hospitals they can’t stand. For you, it’s the noise. The constant chaos of voices, monitors, sirens, carts clattering as they roll across the never ending linoleum floor drives you insane. Even when it’s quiet, it’s still never silent. There’s always an ever present reminder looming in the distance to not get too comfortable. The inevitable fear that something could go wrong, and have you wishing that all you had to listen to was the ambiance of continual pandemonium. 

That’s why it’s such a relief when you hear the quiet ping of your cell phone resting on the edge of your chair. It’s enough to drown out everything else for a little while. 

Frankie :)))))) 

Hey where r u?

Game starts soon and I cant find u 

Katie and Morgan said they havent seen u either 

R u ok?   

You

Yeah I’m ok. 

Dad passed out and hit his head. Mom wasn’t home so I had to take him to the ER. 

Called Coach K in the ambulance to tell her I won’t be there. 

It’s times like these that it takes everything in you to remind yourself that missing big events to keep your dad alive is better than going to big events without him being here. But when you’re decked head to toe in your soccer uniform, sitting on the edge of your seat in a crowded emergency room instead of getting ready to start the last game of your senior year, it’s hard not to feel a little bitter about it. 

You read back over Frankie’s texts as you wait for his response, doing the quick math in your brain before frantically typing back. 

You

Wait, didn’t you have to work tonight? Are you at the field? 

Frankie :)))))) 

Called off work weeks ago 

U really think I would miss ur last game? Cmon Kenz 

Guess its not a surprise anymore. Surprise! lol 

You hope the nurse passing by doesn’t notice the way you’re grinning like an idiot at your phone, biting down on your bottom lip to keep your smile from growing so wide it’ll hurt your cheeks. You re-read the last three texts over and over, your face growing warmer each time. You’re not sure why you’d expect anything less. It still never fails to make you feel like your heart is seconds away from bursting at the seams. 

Of course he came. 

So lost in your train of thought, you hadn’t seen a fourth text pop up across your screen, only the fifth text of “???” that preceded it. 

Frankie :)))))) 

R u at memorial or westwood hospital? 

??? 

You 

Memorial. Why? 

Frankie :)))))) 

Be there in 15 

You 

Frankie you don’t have to do that 

Frankie :)))))) 

2 L8! Already leaving! See u soon! 

The tears welling in your eyes were most definitely ones of relief, joy even, that Frankie cared enough to attempt to make it to a soccer game you weren’t even at, let alone forgo a night’s worth of pay to drive himself to the hospital to see you. 

Your momentary excitement comes to a sudden stop as onslaught of bodies rush into your room to examine your dad. You’re quick to realize you’ve once again been caught up in a stampede where you’re nothing but another person in the way. An invisible presences that means nothing to anyone in this room. It makes the once blissful wetness welling in the corners of your eyes start to sting with a vengeance. 

But you’ve come very quickly to learn that crying doesn’t help anyone, especially when you’re not the one dying. 

You try not to let it hurt when your mom doesn’t even acknowledge the fact you’re sporting the jersey of the team you were supposed to start playing with twenty minutes ago, like you had brought your dad to the hospital in your uniform because that and your cleats were the easiest thing to throw on before you called 911. It’s even harder to try not to scream at the fact she barely pays your presence any mind, not even so much as a ‘thank you’ for getting your dad to the hospital in one piece. What’s the most painful is that you’re positive that she, or anyone else, even notices you’re gone when you slip out the door.

You’re here so often that the hospital staff don’t mind that you pace up and down the rows of the waiting room. Sure, they’ll be sending you a bill for the hole you’re burning through their carpet eventually, but that’s not today’s problem. 

Right now, part of the reason for your frantic pacing is to cool off some steam so you don’t say something you’ll regret about your dad’s cancer having the audacity to ruin the most important soccer game of your life to date. 

You’re also here so often, the hospital staff know Frankie. So much so, that your favorite receptionist, Cassandra, has more than definitely broken several hospital rules to let Frankie stick around long past visiting hours when you’ve needed it most. That’s why all she has to do is give you that look to break you from your vicious cycle of pacing to let you know when he’s arrived through the sliding glass doors of the front entrance. 

Most times, he at least makes it a few steps inside before you notice him. Tonight, he’s barely halfway through the door before you’re wrapping your arms around him in the tightest hug you have to muster. He pulls you in even tighter. 

It’s then that the reality of it all starts to set in. Your best friend had to drive to meet you at the hospital because he’s the only one that remembers you have a soccer game tonight. Your dad is in a cyclical pattern of slowly dying that leaves you feeling like a terrible person for even wishing things were different. You’ve spent the past nine of your seventeen years of life only knowing a world that revolves around cancer. For nine years, you’ve never complained that this is the way your life has been. Tonight, you’ve decided that the weight of the world is un-fucking-fair. 

Tonight, you’re not the one dying, but crying seems like the only reasonable thing left to do. 

You should be embarrassed by how loud your sobs are, how quick the damn breaks once your body finally lets you give into the pain. These are the kind of tears that make your whole body shake, the ones that make your chest hurt because you can’t catch your breath, gasping for air like some poor, lifeless fish, begging to be thrown back to the sea. 

Frankie’s seen you cry before, but not like this. You should care about how your tears are staining the fabric of his t-shirt, how he’s the only thing keeping you standing while your body feels like it’s about to give out underneath you. You hadn’t said a word to each other before you’d collapsed in his arms in a sobbing heap, but right now you don’t care. You can’t. 

You’re sure words are exchanged at some point as he practically carries you out to his truck, at least giving you the decency to finish crying without unwanted eyes in the waiting room glued to you, but right now, you can’t remember. 

You’re not sure how long it takes you to get back to the point of being able to breathe at a semi-normal pace, but something tells you that Frankie will hold you for as long as you need him too, crying or not.

He gently strokes your back, his thumb tracing over the fabric of your jersey as it draws small circles over and over, a sweet and simple dance of his fingers that steadies you just enough to keep from flying away. 

“It’s okay, Kenz. It’s okay.” It’s melodic the way Frankie coos it in your ear, like he’s trying to hush a fussy baby fighting sleep. It’ll take time, persistence and patience, but lucky for you, he’s got all three in spades. “I promise you’re okay. I’m here.” 

“This fucking sucks.” It’s not elegant or graceful, but it’s the truth, and right now, it’s all your brain can process. 

“I know it is, Kenzie. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not fair. I don’t wanna spend the rest of my life worrying that this is the last day I see him. I just want life to be normal. I just wanna go play my stupid fucking soccer game. It’s not fucking fair.” You ball your fists against Frankie’s chest, pounding into him like he’s the one responsible for your hurt and anger. He’s not the one you need to take it out on, but he’s all you have. You hope he knows it’s not his fault he’s become your emotional punching bag as he takes blow after blow, despite how weak your swings are. You’ve got no strength left to fight. 

“I know. It’s not fair. It’s not fair, MacKenzie.” 

He takes it all until you have nothing left to give. You’ve lost a game no one ever has a chance of winning. Defeat is the unwanted trophy life rewards you with, but Frankie stands at the podium with you. He’ll take the hits if it helps ease the blow. 

“Will you be okay if I’m gone for five minutes? Just five, I promise, and then I’ll be right back.” His question catches you off guard, breaking you from your agitated state, nodding your head just enough to give him the permission he needs to race back through the doors of the hospital as you climb into his passenger seat. 

His truck gives you the kind of familiarity the hospital doesn’t. It’s hard not to find irony in the fact you feel safer in his piece of junk car where the wheels could give out beneath you at any moment than you do in a building that is built for saving people’s lives. Maybe it’s because his truck is filled with the memories of moments in life that make you feel like things are going to be okay. 

With the way Frankie’s breathing as he jumps into the driver’s seat, it’s hard to think he’s not back in less than two minutes, rather than five. He doesn’t say a word to you as he cranks the ignition, only a little prayer under his breath that now’s not a time his engine has chosen to give out on him. He doesn’t let you ask any questions until you’re already on the road. 

“Frankie, what’s- Frankie what are you doing?” 

He’s got that crazed kind of look in his eyes he gets when he’s hellbent on making something happen. He always likes to say that you’re the stubborn one. It makes you wonder the last time he’s taken a good, hard look at himself in the mirror. 

“I’m taking you to your game.” 

He says it so matter of factly, like his response to nearly kidnapping you out of the Memorial Hospital parking lot shouldn’t warrant any questions. 

“What?! Frankie! I can’t just-” 

“The doctor in the room said he’s stable and he probably won’t be conscious for the next few hours anyways. Your mom said it’s fine. I’m not letting you miss out on this. You deserve to get to play, Kenz.” 

You’re not sure at that moment if you want to kiss him or slap him across the back of the head. Maybe it’s a little bit of both. 

“Frankie, I-” 

“I’ll turn around and take you back if you want me to, but I don’t think you want me to turn around.” 

God, maybe you do want to kiss him. 

“I hate you, Francisco, I hope you know that.” 

“I know. It’s okay, you play better when you’re angry, anyways.” 

It’s always the little smirk in the corner of his mouth. The one he makes when he knows he’s right. It’s the same smirk he makes when he greets you after you’ve scored two goals to help your team win the last game of your high school career. The same one he gives you when he buys you ice cream to celebrate with two scoops of cookie dough instead of one, because you won’t stop laughing at his stupid joke about your big appetite for winning. 

That night, you fall asleep on his couch, too tired to drive back to the hospital, too scared to sleep in your house alone. You’re not sure if you mean to doze off with your head resting against his thigh like some sort of makeshift pillow. It’s easiest just to blame it on the fact you’re too exhausted to get up. But as you close your eyes and drift to sleep, you’re almost sure that the only muscle Frankie dares to move is the one that pulls the line of his lips into that same smirk you’d rather die than live without. 

You, Present

You’re shocked your initial response to seeing Frankie Morales for the first time in three years wasn’t immediately slamming your front door in his face and telling him to fuck off. 

That’s what your body wanted you to do. For as badly as it did, your some part of your brain wouldn’t let you. 

It’s probably the same, stupid part of your brain that won’t let you stop staring at him, either. 

He looks good. Way better than you’d like him to. It doesn’t seem fair that he somehow manages to find a way to return home more handsome than when he left. It happens every damn time. You swear he does it on purpose. You don’t know how he could, but that’s what you tell yourself. It makes it easier to hate him. 

“I didn’t know you were home.” 

It’s probably the worst thing you could have said to break the awkward silence stewing between you, because you both know it’s a dirty lie. But at this point, you’re far past granting Frankie the privilege of being a part of the truth- you’ll give him your version of the truth that you want him to hear. You’re not letting him have the upper hand. 

“Yeah. I uh- got home this morning.” 

Good to know the best either of you could do was reduce your relationship down to nothing but lying. If that’s the game he wants to play, then so be it. 

“Drive was good?” 

“Yeah.” Lie. “You?” 

“Fine.” Lie. 

For as much as you know the lies hurt, it’s the curveball you hit him with next that you hope stings the worst. 

“I didn’t think you were gonna come.” 

Because that was the truth. The way his face drops tells you the guilt ridden punch you’ve socked him with hits exactly where you want it to. You want the truth to hurt more. You want it to hurt just as bad as the way his truth hurt you. 

“Of course I was gonna come.” 

It’s a poor attempt at a swing back. He showed up with a knife at your gun fight. He knows well enough you won’t show him any mercy. 

“Wouldn’t have been the first time you hadn’t shown up for something important, Frankie.” 

“Your dad’s fucking dying MacKenzie, what makes you think I wouldn’t be here?” 

“Well, he’s been dying for the past three years so I’m glad you’re deciding to show up when it’s convenient for you.” 

That one shuts him up real fucking fast. 

His jaw ticks as he takes a deep breath, staring up at the sky like there’s something written in the clouds that will give him instructions on what to say next. There’s not much he could say at this point that would shock you, but Frankie never ceases to be full of surprises, whether you like it or not. 

“I’m- fuck- I’m sorry, Kenz. I’m sorry.” 

That shuts you up even quicker. 

It shuts you up because you know he’s not lying. The truth is buried in the way his voice breaks at the start of your name, the way the “K” trembles off his tongue and shakes in the back of his throat. 

Your heart is mangled in your chest, hearing him say the two words you’d never thought you’d get and realizing you can’t accept it. 

“Sometimes sorry isn’t enough, Frankie.” 

Neither of you are sure what to say. It’s tough to tell if the fight is over because Frankie’s stabbed you to death and you’ve unloaded every last bullet you had, or if you decided to put your weapons down and walk away before any casualties have occurred. While it’s hard to deny it’s the latter of the two options, at least the first one would have been the honorable way to go. 

“Honey, is that Frankie at the door? Let him in, MacKenzie, don’t make him stand out there!” 

If there’s one thing you can always count on your mom for, it's that she’ll never fail to have impeccable timing, for better or worse.  

You don’t intend for the sigh you let out to be as loud as it is, but it certainly makes it clear to Frankie you aren’t happy about obliging to your mom’s request. You expect him to pass you like you don’t exist, entering your house to greet the two of the three family members who still care about him enough to not burn a hole through his chest every time they look at him, but he doesn’t. He waits for your okay, frozen on the porch until the subtle shrug of your shoulders signals you’ve given him the all clear to pass. He wants to know you’ll at least let him through unscathed for now. 

You follow behind him as he enters your house, trying to ignore the fact you’re entranced by the dark brown curls that still tickle the nape of his neck as he walks, or how the width of his shoulders nearly stretch from one end of the door frame to the other. You’re starting to regret not letting him follow you in  instead. 

You nearly bump into him with how quick he is to freeze once he sees the state of your living room. In the past few weeks, it’s made a terrible transformation from the space you once knew to a makeshift hospital room. The hospice workers had crowded your house with beds, oxygen tanks, and a wheelchair your dad refuses to sit in, an endless puzzle of enough supplies to let your father die in his own home, rather than the cold, sterile wasteland of the nearest hospital. 

You’d been able to ease yourself into your dad’s decline. You’d watched the months leading up to now as his body became weaker and sicker, reducing down to nothing but bones and deep, dark set eyes. You were a first hand witness to how cancer had greedily sucked every ounce of life he had left in him, taking and taking until he had nothing left to give. 

Last time Frankie saw your dad he was in remission. He looked good, healthy, even. That was three years ago. Frankie would have never imagined barely being able to recognize the man that was the closest thing to a real father he’d ever get. 

You want to scream at him that it’s his own damn fault he’s this shocked when he comes face to face with the shell of the man your dad used to be. But with the way you can practically see the guilt oozing out of Frankie with every step he takes towards the near lifeless body lying in the misplaced hospital bed in your living room, you can’t help but let your empathy get the best of you. 

“Hi Frankie, how are you? It’s so good to see you, honey.” 

Even though your mom knows you’re seconds away from wanting to dropkick Frankie off the face of the earth, there are few things she’ll ever let get in the way of her warm and welcoming demeanor. 

Frankie’s still borderline speechless as your mom grabs the tray of cookies he’s been awkwardly toting before she embraces him, arms still glued to his sides like he’s too afraid to move. The way she’s got him in the hug gives him no choice but to stare at the unsettling image of your dad over her shoulder, barely strong enough to turn his head to see what all the fuss is about. 

“H-hi, Mrs. Anderson. I’m okay. It’s good to see you, too.” 

“Is that my Frank the Tank? C’mere, kiddo. I was hopin’ I’d get to see you.” 

The past few weeks have made you shed enough tears to last a lifetime. Never once did you expect the thing that would make you cry the hardest out of everything you’d been through was hearing the long lost excitement in your dad’s voice upon Frankie’s return. 

It’s childish, the way you storm upstairs and slam your bedroom door behind you without a word, heat seething through your veins at the way your dad was so quick to forgive, welcoming Frankie back into his home like a day hadn’t passed, like he had been there right alongside him every step of the way through his descent. Your blood boils at the fact your father can’t be bothered to remember that Frankie had been nowhere to be found for three fucking years. Not a text, not a call, not even a “Frankie says hi!” through his mother four doors down. 

You can deal with the embarrassment of throwing a full blown temper tantrum later, but that’s more tolerable than spending another second in the same room as Frankie.  

“Well,” your dad huffs, his face grimaced with sarcasm as he looks back and forth between your mom, Frankie, and the empty presence you’d left behind, “that went well.” 

“Sorry about that, she’s um-” 

“She’s fine. Just stubborn.” Your dad grumbles, cutting off your mom with the best attempt he can make to raise his arm from the bed and wave her off. 

“No, I uh- it’s fine, I just- I should probably get going, don’t wanna take um- take up too much of your time.” Frankie’s heart sinks in the uncomfortable silence, quietly cursing himself for the mess he’s made. 

“It’s what, 8 o’clock in the morning? You got a bingo game at the senior center you need to get to, young man?” 

“No, I just-” 

“Perfect, no is the only word I needed to hear.” Your dad weakly smiles, gently patting the edge of the bed for Frankie to join him. 

Your heart winces hearing the heavy footsteps a floor below you from your bedroom, knowing the direction they’re heading is only further into your house and not back out the front door where you’d prefer him to be.

Thank goodness your dad has lost the ability to speak loud enough for you to hear the words that follow the thumps of Frankie’s feet. 

“Frankie, I’ve lived a very happy life. There are few things about it I’d change. But you know just as well as me that my daughter is the one who so lovingly inherited my stubbornness. Lucky for me, God knows I’m stubborn enough not to die until you and her figure this out. Unlucky for the both of you, that my time for stubbornness is starting to run thin.”

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

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@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

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@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

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@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

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@harryscherrysugar @wonderpillar @sunnytuliptime @pasc4lfuzz @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[iplayghoul]

𝗹𝗲𝗴 𝘂𝗽 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗮𝘁. 𝗼𝗻𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗸𝗼𝗽𝗼𝗻

warnings: mentions of weed, reader is a dealer, black coded reader, strangers hooking up 🤭, squirtinggg, i like the word cock, sum dick in there too. pussy is refered to as a 'she', use of 'ma' and 'mama', p in v, thumb in ass shit, oral (f & m receiving), use of the n word

word count: 2.4k

notes: its ony's birthday! 🎂 ive come out my cocoon to deliver this delish lil smut for yall🤭 please enjoy, i havent written smut full out in a bit so! comments, rbgs wit comments all appreciated mwah

"𝗪𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵𝘂' 𝘀𝗮𝗶𝗱? 𝗣𝘂𝘁 𝗱𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝗱𝗿𝘆?" 𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗮𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗱. "𝗧𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗽𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼 𝗹𝗲𝗴 𝘂𝗽 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗮𝘁."

"In five minutes? Oh yea', Con' I'mma do 'em up for you, real good. Mhm, you lucky Sash' my girl." Glossy lips smacked as you ended the call with Connie. Tossing your phone on your bed and heading to the small office space in your apartment. Various tools were laid out across the table. Humming a little, your lavender bunny slippers shuffling as you enter, you hook the handles of two pink glittery packets on your acyrlics. You weighed the packets again and checked the information Connie messaged you. According to Connie, his best friend 'Ony' wanted some good strains you were selling, so of course he hits you up to get the packs for his friend.

Your doorbell went off once, hurrying you to hop down the stairs, holding down your braless, pierced tits behind the thin strapped tank you had on. You peeped at who was outside your apartment, staring for a long two seconds at the buff, darkskinned man with a nose piercing and a fade. The white wife-beater paired with a grey hoodie that matched his sweats, ain't do his muscles justice either! Bejewled teeth bite back against your lips, and you swing the door open, slightly pulling your care bear themed shorts down. His lips grabbed your attention immediately.

Actually, you had to take in his presence quick. His bottom lip was a pretty pink and his top lip dark. His hands were big and so was the broadness of his shoulders. He looked a little nervous too. "You Con's boyfren'?" His lips curled a bit, "Fuck did that nigga tell you ma?" Shit. He spoke so softly you could barely hear what he had to say, only the low base of his voice helped you hear him. You bounce onto your other leg, swallowing hard, "'M just teasin', you 'Ony'?" He licked his lips and hummed with a nod, "Yea, 's Onyankopon." Not one for small talk? "Yea, come in n' lemme get it for you." You eye him and try your hardest to make small talk as he puts his hands up on your door frame, you already had to look up to see his face.

The packets were in the pockets of your shorts, really, with free stickers in 'em too! But you were not about to fumble some potentially lethal dick. You gulp feeling the softness of his body brush against yours as he accepts your invite in, the music from your speakers gracing his ears as you follow him to the living room. You pat the couch for him to sit and walk to the half bath, wasting a few seconds to 'get the packets'. With each interaction you became increasingly aware of what you were wearing. You peeped in the mirror and the heart shaped print of your nipple piercings becoming more prominent.

"Ya'know, youn' really talk dat much... or loudly, do you?" You shuffle back into the living room. He rubs above his lips and manspreads, hands moving to rest beneath the band of his sweats. "If I'm bein' deadass, I'ain got much to say, Con' ain't tell me you was cute ma. Ion really ever like raising my voice eitha'." Somehow, your body temperature just kept going up and your eyes kept drifting back to his lips. You plop down onto the couch, "You got a bitch ri-now?" He leans his head back against your couch and your peer at the way his lips purse out, and his adam's apple bobs. He seemingly manspreads wider, his large build making your couch cushions seem tiny. "Nah, why?" "Jus' wonderin'." Your lips began to feel shaky with every word. The entire encounter was like a meaningless dance around the elephant in the room. And fuck, you were gonna' fuck Constance punk ass up when this night was over. "So listen, I can give you the packets now, 'n you can pay me," You toss the packets onto the coffee table, his eyes remain trained on you. "Or, you c'n getcho dick wet." You mumbled, eyes drifting to connect with his.

A sharp inhale and you see the way his eyes open slightly to peak at you. Fat thighs squeezed together as you sat back with your socked feet up on the couch. "Don't that sound good, Onyankopon?" The way his chest rose with his breaths paused for a minute, reveling in hearing your sweet voice utter his name. His hands push further into his sweats, giving his dick a few long strokes before slipping it out his sweats. It was heavy, so heavy that he held it up for you and let it rest on his wife beater, on his belly button. Being the 'pretty dick' fiend you were meant you needed him in your mouth, immediately.

Quickly lurching forward, you press glossy lips to his pretty cock. His dusted pink tip was fat, and as his dick got darker down the shaft so did it get fatter. The nigga was HUNG, and you could mearly slide your tongue around the circumference of his cock head.

"C'mon mama, do watchu wanna do." It was enough incentive for you to swallow his dick down, relishing in the way it squished down your throat as your held your breath. With each stroke that relieved your airway you took a breath, folding your lips in to glide across his cock as globs of spit dribble across the shaft. You slurp and gag a little with each slip of his dick in your mouth, his hips gyrate and buck up. Ony keeps his eyes on you. Frowning as he interlocks his hands behind your neck, stuffing and forcing your face down on his cock. His head drops back against the couch, fucking his dick up into your mouth with heavy groans filling the room, even above the slow beats of your music. You needed him to tear your shit up within the next two seconds before you start to go crazy.

"Fuck, take all dat shit off, ma." Ony grips your jaw as he pulls you off his dick, spit dripping down your chin and lips plumped up. You wobble on your knees to stand up and undress yourself while he shrugs off his hoodie and wife beater. Tattoos decorated his pecs and arms, the dark ink prettily accentuating his melanin. He nods his head to the side, "Lay back right there, pretty." Plump pink lips pout a little but you follow his directions regardless, laying back into the cushions and spreading your legs. "Ain't nun' wrong with puttin' it in dry," you mutter below your breath when his lips connect with your clit. He mumbles something like 'don't piss me off' and his tongue is all over you.

His hands are big enough to grip the entire spread of your thigh, forcing your leg back as he worked his tongue in circles around your clit, sloppily spitting through your folds and caressing your hole with his tongue. He ate it like a starving man, his frowning and groaning into you growing more frequent as he pushes his face deeper. Your nails ghost the back of his neck, feeling the vibrations of his groans while the other played with your nipple. He tilts his head at an angle, flattening his tongue against your clit and you flinch, the electric pleasure shooting through your tummy and he smiles.

"Right there?" He peers up at you just as your eyes started springing tears. He bites down on his lips, and gives your clit a few kisses. You gasp and start pushing on his shoulders, understanding where he was going . Ony, undisturbed, curls his tongue into your clit, sucking and spitting on your cunt and maintaining the angle. Your tummy begins to tighten, clit pulsing with every lick, holding your breath and arching up into him. A sharp smack on your clit forces a cry out of you, "Stop holdin' yo' breath or imma' leave you right here," Fuck. You let out exasperated breaths as you desperately gyrate your hips into his mouth. Your clit, swollen and fat started to feel almost numb, you can't help but slap his shoulders and whine. "Shit, shit, shit— Ony, that's enough." It only edges him on, sucking up your creamy releases and forcing himself impossibly closer to you. You head was already pressed up against the armrest leaving you no escape, eyes rolling in different directions and mouth agape. Ony's mouth is latched onto you, bouncing your entire body into the couch cushions. You could only moan 'yes, yes, yes' with each rocking of your clit in his mouth.

Your toes curl and you're pushing his head into your pussy, chasing a bigger release than the one you just had. "Fuck, yeah, eat it just like that, baby," Your grip on everything begins to loosen and your lower body feels like static; milky slick squirts out of you as your body begins to relax and you hold Onyankopon's head in place as he drinks it all up. "You're fucking insane," You huff out at him when he lifts his head up to look at you, your release dripping off his nose and chin. "Watchu' said? Put dat shit in dry?" he rasped. "Turn over and put yo leg up on the seat." You give a start and look at him, feeling a mess.

"You not gon' let me recover, bitch?" He licks his lips and sits up on his knees, grabbing your ass like he was preparing to put you in position if you didn't do it. Consistently maintaining eye contact. "Don't call me no bitch," You hear him say low, "And turn the fuck over," He gives your ass a hard shove. You flop over onto your stomach, arching your ass up for some backshots, before sitting up to pull your right leg from out under you and kicking it up onto the top of the couch. You feel your inner thigh burn from the near split position, gripping onto the arm of the couch. Ony's fingers toy with your cunt and spreads you about the length of his dick, pumping it a few times before moulding circles around your clit with his tip: movements calculated. "Shit," You mumble softly, noticing the ever-increasing slip of your pussy. He slows the teasing of your clit, a large hand gripping your ass and pushing you down simultaneously. He lets his tip catch your sopping entrance, pushing in slightly and ignoring your whines as he basks in the wetness pressinh on his tip. "Ony stop playin' 'n put that shit in, God." He pulses his tip back and forth, slowly sinking deeper but not deep enough for you to even get two inches of his cock.

He whispers something lowly and you're unable to hear him. Just as you opened your mouth to ask 'Watchu sayin' nigga?', so did it hang open when he stuffed his full length into you swiftly. "Holy fuck," Was all you could force out of your mouth, his girth pushing against your walls as he sit in it. His hand spreads your ass and you feel him sink his thumb into your ass, his grip on you tightening. Your eyes already start rolling back into your head with the slight movements of his dick in you while he shifts to adjust his knees on the couch. You grip the couch hard and press your head against it when he starts using your ass to gain leverage, momentum.

"Think you c'n take sum fat dick?" Onyankopon mutters above you, the hand with his thumb in your ass slowly dragging you off his cock and back. "Yeah, yeah, gimme— gimme whatever you want, baby." You swallow, attempting to comprehend his question amidst the aching of your pussy that hungrily slobbered all over his dick. Maintaining the slow drag, he reaches down with his other hand to grip your neck, giving you a few tugs to manhandle you into a comfortable groove; before finally hammering his hips into your ass.

Ony groans and curses low while you struggle to hold onto the couch, his strong arms on your neck, forcing your ass back onto him. "Fuck! fuck— fuuuck, Ony," You let out a sob with each stroke he put on you, feeling incredibly full with just his thumb and girth combined. Your pussy was spread and aching around him, slippery and loud and nasty. "Fuck— she talkin' to me?" Onyankopon grins above you and only snaps his hips down into your ass harder, letting it sting. Your pussy was dripping, strings of slick falling from your cunt onto the couch and dripping down to tickle your sensitive clit with each stroke.

You were a mess, with every curse and 'ah!' came drool spilling from your mouth, slobbering about the couch and spreading it down to your fattened nipples. Your hand toyed with the piercing and you only felt more full, your tummy swelling more with each invasion of his dick against your walls. "C'mon take it, take it," Ony removes his hand from your neck to slap your ass hard, forcing his other thumb deeper in you, moving the other to play with your clit. White, foamy, release plops down like whipped cream onto his fingers as he rapidly and roughly guided them around your swollen clit. The same realese making his cock hot and melting in your pretty pussy, coating his every inch and forcing low moans out of him. "Ain't this watchu wanted? My dick wet as fuuuck, mama," You moan back some unintelligible response, you could barely hear the words coming out his mouth. Your entire being was totally focused on the way you began to tremble and squirt small spurts of cum gliding down your legs.

Onyankopon holds you still, hiking one of his legs up and fucking into you unimaginably deeper, sloppier, nastier. You squeal and grab his hand that's at your clit, slapping his arm and biting the softness of the couch's limb while your cry and whine. Ony ignores your attempts to tap out amidst the convulsing of your legs and hard quivering of your body. Your head was pounding now and you go completely blank for a split second, your full releases forcing itself out of you for the second time without your consent, in thick streams.

Your gasps and desperate as you attempt to get yourself together, all while Onyankopon can't help but nut deep in you before pulling out and slapping your clit a few final times with his dick. Your body refuses to move from the complicated position, Ony silently pulls your leg off the seat and carefully moves you onto your back. He wipes some tears off your fucked out face, hesitating before getting up and digging in your fridge for water before returning with two bottles. He opens one for you, feeding you the cold comfort that soothes your thoat while you hold onto his wrist.

"You straight?" He asks before leaning to dig in the pockets of his sweats and pull out a bit if cash. "Mhm," was all you could muster, watching him throw the money on the table before grabbing his phone. "Shit," He half grumbles with a soft chuckle before showing you the bright screen. Six missed calls from Connie.

[deanswhiskey]

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 - 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

summary; its sams birthday and his wish comes true

wc; 1,113

warnings; nothing but some kisses

authors note; AAAAHHHHH IM SO SORRY I HAVENT POSTED IN AGES BUT I WANTED TO PUT OUT SOMETHING FOR SAMS BIRTHDAY AND IK ITS LATE BUT OH WELL i promise ill start writing more when i'm done with this semester :))) also this is proofread bc i rushed to put this out apologies for any mistakes

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

the late, late night of may 1st was spent alone in the kitchen. you were so graciously baking your best friend sam a beautiful birthday cake.

since arriving to the bunker and having a ginormous kitchen all to yourselves, you thought it’d be a great idea to start baking and cooking again. being on the road, hunting monsters, you never got the chance to cook or bake. the only cooking you ever did was heating up some frozen dinners for everyone from the store.

not that you minded, sometimes they were good; but nothing, nothing, ever beats a home cooked meal. and to top it all off, homemade dessert.

that’s why when you all settled into the bunker, you went on a big grocery spree and bought almost everything in the store.

the very first meal you cooked was fettuccine alfredo with chicken. something your mother used to make all the time when you were younger and have loved ever since.

when sam and dean walked into the kitchen they couldn’t help but notice the divine aroma.

“‘m my god, what’s that smell,” dean asked searching around for what could be it.

you moved out of the way of the stove to show them a view of the food, “it’s fettuccine alfredo and chicken. it’s almost ready, fo you two wanna set the table?”

they both nodded with enthusiasm, getting plates and forks and knives and set them on the table nearby.

the noodles, sauce, and chicken were finally done and incorporated. you took the pan and a large spoon to scoop it with and headed over to the boys who looked like they were about to start eating from the pan. as soon as the food hit their plates they wasted no time digging in. you chuckled as you watched them almost eat it whole.

that night marked the start of some of the best food sam and dean had eaten.

so now you were baking and decorating the most extravagant looking cake for the man you were secretly in love with.

you don’t know when it happened but something changed and you no longer wanted to just be friends; you wanted more. more than just a quick side hug when celebrating, more than just high fives. you wanted whole, endearing hugs; you wanted to interlink hands and never let go.

the cake you were baking you surly knew sam would like. it’s his favorite cake flavor and a beautiful frosting color. you even added ruffled borders on the top and bottom and near perfect lettering on the top. this cake was made with love.

it was 11:49 pm when you finished and you had flour in your hair, frosting on your shirt, and excess batter on the counter. the cake was put in the fridge to chill over night and the kitchen was finally cleaned 10 minutes later. you quickly showered before hopping into bed with a small smile on your face knowing your best friend would be so happy with everything.

morning came and you and dean had to be the first ones up to set out everything. dean went out to buy balloons (that you and dean so tiresomely blew up) and banners to hand from the walls. he also set out the few presents the two of you bought, even after sam said he didn’t want anything (you both knew you were gonna buy him something anyways), and you set out the cake with the candles, lighting the fee of them up.

sam walked into the kitchen rubbing his eyes. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!” he jumped at the two of you screaming.

after his scare went away, his eyes lit up like a child at their very own birthday. he rushed over to you thanking the both of you for doing this. he glanced at the cake, “did you make this?”

“with love,” you nodded.

“make a wish, brother,” dean patted his back. sam closed his eyes thinking, he knew exactly what we was going to wish for. he bent down slightly and blew out the candles. you didn’t bother with making breakfast because you knew cake for breakfast would excite anyone.

sam was very giddy to open up his presents. he was ever so thankful for the few new flannels, nice watch, and a new belt you guys gave him.

the three of you sat in the movie room and watched a bunch of old movies. sam has grown very fond of old films. he likes western ones the most.

it was getting late and dean decided that he’d had enough of movies and was feeling sleepy.

now it was just you and sam, on the couch, in the movie room, alone.

the movie was at a slow part, just the main two characters talking in an old western barn.

“did you have a good day?” you turned to sam.

he looks over at you, he loves that smile on your face. “i had probably one of the best days ever. that cake? phenomenal, probably the best thing you’ve baked.”

you blushed and looked down. after a moment of silence you looked up again, sam still looking at you, “what’d you wish for?”

“i cant tell you that,” he chuckled.

“c’mon,” you dragged out.

“no, i can’t!”

“please, for me” queue the big puppy dog eyes.

how could he resist those eyes? “fine, but you can’t get upset.”

why would you get upset?

sams heart is racing. “i wished for you.”

“me?”

“mhm, you.”

“wh- i- why me?”

“because you’re all i’ve ever wanted.”

you were speechless. “sam, i-”

“you don’t have to say anything, it’s okay.”

the saddened look on his face broke you’re heart. “listen to me sam,” you started to smile. “i feel the same way. i mean it when i said that cake was made with love.”

a smile grew on his face. “can i kiss you now?”

it felt like you couldn’t breathe, “yeah,” it came out as a whisper.

sam gently cupped one side of your face as he drew in closer. his lips brushed yours before he fully smashed his lips to yours.

you’ve dreamed on this moment for a while. it was more than you could’ve ever imagined. his lips were soft. he tasted slightly of whiskey that the three of you sipped on earlier and it was perfect.

“my birthday wish finally came true,” sam says just above a whisper.

“good, i’m glad.” you smiled.

the two of you fell asleep on the couch with the old western movie quietly playing in the background. both you and sam fell asleep with a smile on your face in each others arms.

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

[rinstaro]

Reader living their best life wearing a lil skirt n some thigh highs and sky cant take how cute they look and can’t resist making a creamy mess all over them while the reader begs him to hurry up and make them squirt but he js wants to take his time telling them how pretty they look in that lil Lacey top

Hella overstim

sky can rut into me like a dog

man can hit me with a bus and I’d thank him

that’s all thanks for coming to my Ted talk 🫡

this is so much good god 😭 first the time anon being in heat and now this akjjfcnjajns

how are the stans of the sweetest boy the absolute horniest. WHO ARE U HORNY SKY STAN

also sorry ive been taking so long with these! i havent been in a writing mood lately haha

cw: reader wears feminine clothes, clothed sex, coochie eating, overstim, fingering, he asks for explicit verbal consent, squirting, a little praise, he's pussy drunk!!! yay!!! not proofread, reader has a vagina no pronouns

minors do not react.

to say you looked good enough to eat was an understatement.

sky couldn’t get enough of staring at your lace trim cami and short little skirt. not to mention the thigh high socks you had on. so instead of just staring at them, he put himself in between them.

“f-fuuuuck! gonna cuuuuum!” and not even a few minutes after he’d been on you, you’d already creamed on his fingers and his face once, the milky substance coating his tongue and making him crave more. he hadn’t bothered to remove any of your clothes, your skirt hiding his face from view.

your legs began to tremble when he refused to stop moving his fingers. you pushed at his head as he bullied your cunt, needy moans turning into weak sobs. "l-lemme go, quit it! 's too much!"

your boyfriend only moaned into your cunt, relishing in the feeling of your clit throbbing against his tongue. moments later he rose to press his lips to yours. sky's fingers crooked upwards and he broke away to laugh at how your legs tried to close in on him.

"'m sorry, sweetheart. you're just so pretty. dressed so fuckin' cute, look at you." sky swears he could drool at how you looked. his favorite place to be was between your thighs. he's had to look at how your thigh high socks complimented your figure perfectly, hugging the soft flesh. he wasn't sure if he wanted to rip them off you or just keep staring at them. while he ended up going for the latter, he couldn't just stare at you.

no, he needed to feel you or he was gonna go crazy. his dick was throbbing, only getting worse when you clenched around him and called his name. sky let out a shaky moan as you came again. "you feel so good around my fingers, sweetheart," he sighed. he finally stopped his movements, staring at you as you tried to catch your breath. your tiny shirt was pushed up your chest, pebbled nipples on display for him. all that sky bothered to get rid of was your underwear.

"can i fuck you, sweetheart? please, i need to feel you," he murmured, never breaking eye contact. you shuddered at his request. his voice sounded so raw and you hadn't even touched him. you could only nod, wrapping your arms around his neck. "need you to say it, (name)."

"yes, i want you to, link. please."

he wasted no time in pushing your thighs back, forcing your knees to your chest. it happened so fast you dont even know when he got his dick out, but in the next moment he slipped into you with ease. sky groaned loudly when he bottomed out, arms trembling in an effort to hold himself up. you felt so fucking good, he felt like he could cum already.

well, why not, he thought. he'd have you to himself all night.

sky slammed his hips into yours with no remorse, the sound of both your gushing cunt and your hips meeting his filling the room. your back arched, body still sensitive from the first couple orgasms. you whimpered weakly as he growled into your ear.

"so good, so good- fuck, gonna cum already-" he panted, his thrusts only becoming rougher. your toes curled as grabbed your hips, angling himself to where he knew he'd hit that spongy spot inside you every time. you keened when he did just that, determined to make you cum with him.

a few more thrusts and he was gone, throwing his head back as he filled your needy cunt. his thrusts wouldn't stop, sky hissing at the overstimulation. you felt so good it hurt, but he couldn't stop, not now. he was gorgeous above you, and you felt your own orgasm approaching fast.

"c-come on, cum," he demanded, somehow picking up his pace. you yelped at the sudden increase in speed. both of your moans increased in volume. "w-wait, mmm, slow down, i'll-"

"do it."

your body seized up, almost unable to handle the force of your orgasm. you sprayed all over the both of you, every thrust forcing more out of you. you cried out, tears falling down your cheeks at the overwhelming pleasure. sky was still going, letting his moans fall freely out of his mouth. "s-so good, pretty pussy's so good, cant stop," he groaned.

"link, too much! slow- fuck! please!" you begged, the overstimulation becoming too much for you to handle. your lover couldn't leave you like this. no, he needed you stuffed to the brim. only then could he be satisfied.

"if i can- fuck, fuck- if i can do it, you can too, sweetheart. don't give up on me now. dressed up so pretty for me, let me reward you for it, yeah?"

[imustbenuts]

nuts reading trigun in japanese 6 - kaite's foreshadowing. plant synchronization's downside

remember in my part 3 and 5 i was talking about hierarchy? surprisingly, it continues past chapter 8 with kaite. and wolfwood. triangulating nyoom

(to be honest... ive been doing these read and analysis completely blind in a 1st JP read through. so its possible ill find new nuances, get things wrong as the context shifts and changes, so my stuff looks like its scattered all over the place. sorry about that.)

i think ill start explaining names and meanings. kaite's name in japanese is kaito. カイト. this can be a homonym with i think 怪盗 (kaitou) in this case, which means phantom thief. for trying to help Neon with stealing loot from the Sand Steamer.

left bubble next to neon: 道案内は的確だったかね！？ I trust your guide has been giving you clear instructions?

^the headaches with manga translations has always been to keep texts short and reasonable for flow and readability, so these simplifications can and sometimes must happen.

but, add dakutens, the " on 2 of those カイト katakanas and suddenly, kaito turns into. ガイド gaido. Guide.

so Kaite has been playing as a guide to lead vash to his death at the hands of Neon. this page is such a fucking whammy with the wordplay going on. if you just read this in japanese theres a moment of "oh shit, no way, Kaite, vash just told you to stop betraying people! what the hell!"

yet theres a level of trust going on already, so its not as bad as it seems

nightow really likes his worldplay. i really like this page.

kaite redeems himself by later charging into the boiler room and helps turn the valve to stop the sand steamer from running off cliff and killing everyone on board....

hm. a guide. and those sequences

we sure have a lot of guides here. one who appears in the manga later with a kansai dialect. and another in TriStamp, where he is younger than he appears.

when i spoke about hierarchy and the fact that vash is over 150, i was also kind of hinting that all of current humanity are akin to children in the system of JP hierarchy. that takes on extra meaning with a little change of context and language

wolfwood is filling in the shoes of kaito here in tristamp. and within trimax, kaito foreshadows him. incredible.

theres actually more going on with wolfwood and certain design/changes choices i wanna talk about with tristamp but ill save it for another day. maybe when i run into him in this read later

Plant Synchronization downside.

....so theres a bad downside to vash synchronizing with the plant that i didn't catch. which also answers what the fuck was going on in tristamp when that version of him hits the ground

nightow mentions this in an interview, link here posted and transcribed by xoxo-otome (thank you!) that he likes action flicks and has incorporated a lot of action into his work. and its true. there is so much action in the form of sound effects.

reading through the entire manga and paying attention to the sfx peppered around offers a lot more context to whats happening in half of the panels that seemingly doesnt make sense

like this one where the top panel has "DADADADADA" sfx. so they're stomping down the corridor with their guns crossed and facing each other. the "GO OH" in the bottom panel emphasizes the sudden burst into open air. unfortunately, anyone who values their life and sanity in this economy will not want to translate trigun's sfxs 100%.

i should have paid more attention when reading trigun in english. but i didn't so here i am. in the trigunbookclub tag now doing this.

why is it important? here. this. below. when vash does his plant thing with his sister:

see those heart panels? i tried searching real quick but nobody seems to have pointed this out. i havent seen this in EN fanfics. maybe i missed it. maybe im stupid:

thats Dokun, the sound effect of a heart thumping. as vash synchronizes, the heart panels with the same sound effect appear, but they gradually split apart further with ellipses "..." to signify his heart beat slowing down. and down. and down....

Dokun, do kun, do... kun....

then the wings comes out. and the panel below it:

sfx: PIIIIIIIIIII

breathes. a FLAT LINE.

aaaaaaAA?!

何かなんだかわかりません I'm not sure what's going on. とにかくプラントの動きは一切止まっています But the Plant's movement has completely stopped. 同時に男にも呼吸　心音ともに停止してます It's the same with that man. His breathing and heartbeat sounds like it's stopped with the plant too.

AAAAA?!!?! the も means vash is in the same state as the plant?

i.... um. um.,, ANYWAY-

AAAAAAAAAAAA?! HUH?! HUH??? HUH?!

is THIS why he has a metal grate over his heart? something happened and he an an operation on his heart???? by some engineer maybe? what? huh? am i reading this wrong? what? wait, hello? HEY!!!

what the fuck. okAY--?!

and then he just. pretends like nothing's happened. doesnt tell kaito anything. and he leaves the Sand Steamer.

and im going to have to sleep bc its 5 am now and pretend like i didnt just realize something this big right in front of my eyes during the first read.

[cloudgyubi]

Thoughts on top 3 gyuvin kinks?

im gonna start by saying that i personally see gyuvin as the embodiment of a switch leaning dominant, and with that being said here's my take on his top3 kinks for when he's feeling more dominant and for when he's more on the submissive side.

a/n: i havent listed the kinks in a specific order; also, not proofread. let me know your takes about this in the comments / reblogs or in my inbox!

> nsfw - mdni. more under the cut!

dom!gyuvin

praise: we all know that gyuvin is often, if not always, seen as a silly boy and it seems hard for people to take him seriously - both when it comes to his job or his personality and emotions in general; that's why i think he's heavy on receiving compliments and praise. tell him he's making you feel good, go hard on the “that's it baby, keep going”s and he's gonna fuck you real good. he thrives on being the best for you because he knows you will take him seriously at all times and he needs to thank you for that, and what's better than making you cum on his cock? he's also big on the giving side though, let's not forget about this. he's always whispering sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how beautiful you look and reminding you how much of a good pet you're being for him every single time you manage to take him whole and that brings us to the next point.

size kink: are we even surprised? man is 186cm tall, his hands are 20,4cm each and him going to the gym and pumping up just does it. gyuvin goes crazy when you hug him and place your chin on his chest, especially when you look up at him with those big doe eyes of yours; when you get on your knees just for him and he gets to see you all pretty and small under his huge body, he goes nuts. he matches his height with yours, cups your face with just one hand and smirks knowing that you too get off knowing he can manhandle you as much as he wants. me being part of the gyuvin big dick agenda (oops 🤭), i'll say he goes crazy every single time you try so hard to take him whole in your mouth and fail. he loves seeing you all teary eyed and just messy, spit and pre-cum on your chin and lips. all the little gasps and whimpers you let out when he tries to bottom out in you? don't even get me started. when he puts his hand on your neck and just wraps his long slender fingers around it - he doesn't even squeeze, he just looks at how small you look compared to him and that gets him rock hard.

dacryphilia: gyuvin feels sick. why this out of all kinks he could have - he doesn't want to enjoy seeing you cry for him. he's not maniac about it though, he lets you cry on his shoulders when something is wrong, he lets you go all out on his chest while he caresses you - but whenever you happen to shed a couple tears while he's fucking you in missionary, he's always twitching inside of you and licking the tear stains on your cheeks as he hits your sweet spot harder and harder, making you cry out even more. as i said before, when you're giving him head he's always making sure you're keeping eye contact either by gripping your hair or squeezing your cheeks to keep your head in place - he can't miss the way your eyes fill up with tears threatening to stain your puffy cheeks. he's always fighting the urge to go deeper into your throat just to see all those pretty tears fall out of your eyes, but he can't hurt his pretty baby (but you take him deeper yourself regardless).

sub!gyuvin

bondage: gyuvin can't keep his hands off of you, he's always so excited about making you feel good that he just can't stay still - so when you tie his hands to the bed headboard, he gets sulky at first, he begs to let him go. since he can't always have his way by giving you puppy eyes, you do untie his hands just so you can make him even prettier by using the same red rope to tie his biceps to his torso, making the cutest heart shape on his abdomen. he feels caged, he wants to touch you, he needs to - but the moment you start slowly feeling him up and calling him pretty, that's when he gets all red and shy. he can't cover his face, he feels so exposed... and he loves it. he likes the first time you give him head while being tied up, overstimulating him to tears - and he loves when the next time you tie him up, you use his cock for your own pleasure. the thing he wants the most is to make you feel good and make you cum as many times as you need, and if you need him to stay still and use him - he can't be more happy.

face riding (afab!reader): as i just said, gyuvin thrives on being the best for you and making you feel good - it makes him feel better on an emotional note. but the first time you actually use his mouth to get off... he thinks he's never been this hard in his entire life. pretty boy lets his tongue out, lets you use it while he sucks on your folds and hums on your pussy as you whimper whenever your clit bumps his nose. when you grip his hair with one hand to steady yourself and use the other one to jerk him off - he feels so overwhelmed. he squeezes your thighs and your ass as he helps you move on his face, he doesn't even care that he's running out of breath right now - he could only dream of passing out while having his face between your legs anyway.

edging: “baby, it'll feel better when i'll let you cum later. you trust me, right?” - that's what you said to him the first time you edged him and he was all shaky and teary eyed while asking just why you did that to him when he was so close. he's your pretty puppy, of course he trusts you so he lets you be, and he tries not to care if it hurts because you're doing it for him... right? he waits so long, he gets so close to cumming in your mouth but you just don't let him. so when he asks you so so prettily to just let him cum, he begs for it with trembling words and light whimpers... you jerk him off slow and steady while you sit on his thighs and look at him in the most loving way. you scan his body and can't help but lick your lips as you follow your hand movements, noticing how red and swollen his tip has gotten. he catches your expressions with the corner of his eyes - at least, before his vision gets all white when he finally feels that damn relief he was chasing all night. he cries. he's overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure he's feeling, and when he manages to catch his breath and his vision gets better - he sees how much you're loving it (and also sees how much of a mess he made on his abs and your hand with his cum, you both love it). he loves seeing you all excited like this and he loves feeling like he can pass out of pleasure, so he can't wait until you edge him again.

[comet-forgot-you]

the only thing i could up with is like R is best friends with Anika (or any other character you want) where Anika has no experience in kissing and is ashamed about it and R's like "i can help 🤭"

yesss

you talking about your worst kissing experience with anika while you cooked and you ask her about her worst experience. she doesnt say anything, instead turning your attention to the food you were cooking.

“anika, stop deflecting. whats your worst experience?” she doesnt say anything, gripping the countertop beneath her, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. she shrugs. “unless you’ve never kissed someone,” you suggest and the way she looks away from you, cheeks pinking up, shows that you guessed right. “you’ve never kissed someone?”

anika groans at the confrontation, covering her face with her hands. “no! i havent. i mean i want to, but like, i dont know! i just dont know how, i mean like what if im bad y’know?” you smile, stepping away from the stove to approach her.

“i could teach you.” anika pauses at the suggestion, hands falling from her face.

“what?”

“i could teach you. i mean like, i have experience, you dont, i could teach you.”

“how?”

“kissing you?” anikas brows furrow.

“but why?”

“because, i cant let my best friend doubt herself, now, can i?” you smile, stepping closer to her. youre between her legs at this point, neck craning up due to her position on the counter.

“you’d do that?”

“why not?” theres barely any space between the two of you. youre eyes flicker down to her lips and hers do the same.

“okay,” she whispers thickly. one of your hands find her hip, the other moving to cradle her cheek in your hand.

“this okay?” you ask, and anika nods. you look back down to her lips and hers tongue darts across them wet them. “im gonna kiss you now,” you whisper, leaning in until the distance between you two disappears.

your lips meet hers and theyre soft. you pull her closer and her hands move to cradle your face. you pull away for a second, breath heavy, before going back in. your tongue darts across her bottom lip and before it can go any further, the water boils over. the sound of water hissing as it hits the glass top forces you away from her.

you’re quick to tend to it, the feeling of anika lingering on your lips. “not bad for your first time,” you mutter out, a smile forming on your lips.

[lushlovers]

Love it, J. Burrow

summary; it's just kissing, right?

warnings; kissing duh, like two petnames i think, little to no swearing, grammatical errors, dirty talk but nothing super horrible, the manspread™

word count; 530

note; guys listen, i havent written anything serious in a while so please bare with me.

this past week was interesting, dating an nfl star was never really a calm experience, but that's what you signed up for when you began flirting with the joe burrow after one of his big high school games. who wouldn't? i mean, the man's fucking gorgeous.

he's been yours, since the summer of junior year with no change of that in sight. obsessed wouldn't even begin to describe how joe felt about you, any chance he gets he's talking about you or your future together.

coming home from a long day of early christmas shopping knowing he was inside waiting for you always made you smile. after leaving the bags in your car and locking the doors with the key pad, you hurried in the house to find your man on the couch looking straight at you.

"hi, baby," he greeted, eyes crinkling as he smiled at just the sight of you, you're quick to kick off your shoes after hours of walking many stores and shopping malls in the area, "hi, joey," you responded. all the lights but the kitchen were off, the television illuminating the living room.

the game playing on it seemed to be disregarded by joe as he opened his arms, inviting you to come sit on his lap with raised brows. god, does he know how hot it is when he's literally just sitting there? the tops of his thighs are always the best seat in the house aside from his face.

plopping down onto him and wrapping your arms around his neck, "how was shopping?" he questioned, absentmindedly running his hands along your thighs, even through your sweats they still manage to give you goosebumps. "long, i missed you so much," you mumble, breathing in the smell of his shampoo.

"i missed you more, sweetheart," pulling away slightly to press a kiss to his lips, "impossible," you murmured against them, causing him to smile even more than he was before. his tongue slide along your bottom lip, mewling as you allow him to deepen what was supposed to be innocent kisses.

moments later a need for air hits you, joe does his best to chase your mouth, but is unsuccessful and settles for the delicate skin of your neck instead. you push yourself down further onto his lap, grinding against him, breathless and with your head a bit fuzzy from just kissing, he really knows how to use his mouth in every way possible.

"i love it when you kiss my neck," you're more breathless than before, if that's even possible. joe smiles for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, "i know you do, why do you think i do it so often?" like it never left his mouth is back on your neck, this time sucking a bruise there, grazing his teeth and tongue over it to seal the deal.

you hadn't realized how hard you were grinding down onto him until his calloused hands gripped your hips, making you whine in protest. "keep doing that and i'll cum in my pants," he grits out through clenched teeth.

you smile this time, knowingly up to no good, "what if i want that, joey?"

[brainrot-stitch]

(Plucks him out of a box by the scruff like a scraggly ass kitten) I love him

[the-passer-outer]

the rot the hunger the agony I must claw I must bite

[tamaxinof]

I feel really bad for having such an intense obsession with dan and phil even though i havent done anything online (or irl) that could actually impact them. like these people dont know me and all i think about is them. of course, a part of it is because its a hyperfixation but beyond that i do genuinely love them and that makes me feel like shit. why do i love these people? is that unhealthy? i mean, its in human nature, right? thats just what people do. of course, im aware that the "them" im referring to are the internet personalities that arent really them in their personal lives (which ill be honest i dont really care about unless they share it with us) but should i love them? the obsession hasnt caused any harm to anyone. in fact, it's saved me from truly hitting rock bottom. but should that be true? isnt it selfish and weird to put/have put my life in the hands of people who dont even know what my favourite colour is? but also i didnt have anything else at a time of complete depression so how is that weird? but also it just is, man. maybe??

[cadaverre]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ the swords are drawn, they really are

JUNO ☆ they/them (i dont mind she/her) ☆ minor (xv) ☆ bisexual ☆ cancer sun, libra moon, sag rising ☆ intp-t ☆ aus ☆ either a celestial god or a pebble ☆ anxious mess ☆ i change my theme way too much ☆ sparkling water > regular water ☆ in love with piercings and wants all of them ☆ professional procrastinator ☆ a humanities/arts/music girl in a science/maths world ☆ dont know much abt society but i know i hate capitalism ☆ wouldnt survive a day without spotify ☆ free palestine!! ☆

LOVES ⭑.ᐟ - literature, the arts, queer culture, astronomy + astrology, witchcraft, feminism (no terfs allowed!!!!), cold drinks, miniskirts, doc martens, dark red, nail polish, mascara, lipgloss, brie (always dreaming of cheese), pinterest, spotify, my headphones, the ocean, my grandparents house, spring+winter, fiddling around on the guitar, fantasising about being a famous musician, finding new music, snow, going to concerts, psychology, web weaving, learning languages (currently learning spanish and i want to learn latin!)

BOOKS ⭑.ᐟ - osemanverse, the hunger games, books by rhiannon wilde, tim te maro's subterranean heartsick blues, all the best liars, books by octavia butler (specifically parable of the sower and parable of the talents), the last true poets of the sea, acotar, the weight of the stars, the seven husbands of evelyn hugo, the picture of dorian grey, house of hollow, howls moving castle, harry potter (mainly marauders, FUCK JKR), i kissed shara wheeler, red white and royal blue, song of achilles, wings of fire, the secret history, crime and punishment

MOVIES + SHOWS ⭑.ᐟ - juno, dont look up, little women (2019), scream (i like most of them but 1996 is my fav by far), ladybird, barbie (2023), some of the mcu (thor and guardians of the galaxy <33), spiderverse (itsv is my love), gilmore girls, stranger things, loki, heartstopper, arcane, scott pilgrim takes off + scott pilgrim vs the world, mean girls (i love both hehe), dr who, percy jackson (the show, i um havent read the books), gossip girls, do revenge, my little pony, the bear, hannibal, we are lady parts, bottoms

MUSIC ⭑.ᐟ - boygenius + solos, taylor swift, glaive, brakence, paramore, ricky jamaraz, melanie martinez, lana del rey, ashnikko, girl in red, billie eilish, doja cat, big thief, adrianne lenker, ethel cain, mitski, remi wolf, cigarettes after sex, ericdoa, tv girl, clairo, the neighbourhood, bon iver, deftones, maneskin, courtney barnett, poppy, the smiths, american football, susannah joffe, renee rapp, mcr, the front bottoms, pierce the veil, gracie abrams, feeble little horse, esha tewari, radiohead, chappell roan, charli xcx

ALBUMS ⭑.ᐟ - the record, 1989 tv, around the fur, riot, three cheers for sweet revenge, all we know is falling, hypochondriac, girl with fish, doa, things with wings, punk2, songs, masterpiece, guts, lust for life, dykttatuob, punisher, stranger in the alps, i care so much that i dont care at all, collide with the sky, manic, badlands, folklore, trafoamp, k-12, crybaby, portals, this is why, ttpd + the anthology, hit me hard and soft, the bends, brat, the secret of us, home video

TALK TO ME ⭑.ᐟ - asks and dms are open for chatting/venting/whatever, i might take a while to respond ☆ i rarely follow people without an intro post/descriptive bio (with name, age group and pronouns especially) ☆ discord is astraeasparrow ☆ i dont currently have any trigger warnings tagged but just send me an ask/dm if you want me to tag something specific!! ☆dni: people who are: rude, racist, homophobic, transphobic, zionist, terfs, sexist, ableist, antisemitic

TAGS ⭑.ᐟ

#juno.txt -> ramblings, original posts

#asks -> asks ive answered

#ask bait -> send me asks!

#tag games -> tag games ive participated in

#beautiful mutuals -> interactions with my beautiful mutuals !

#spotify -> my music obsession

#junocore -> posts that are so incredibly mecore

#🩻 -> posts abt/for my fav

(im working on a better taglist with my moots tags)

SOCIALS ⭑.ᐟ pinterest ☆spotify ☆ carrd ☆ pronoun page ☆ letterboxd ☆ stats.fm

SIDEBLOGS ⭑.ᐟ @likeasugarcubeinateacup (notes app poetry) -- @sirenliight (short poetry + aesthetics) -- a close friends blog (you can ask for the url, i might say no) (im not that active on them though)

NOTES/UPDATES ⭑.ᐟ

☆ prev urls — astraeasparrow -> gu1lty-as-sin -> glcive

☆ last updated: july 10th 2024

☆ dividers by @plutism

thats all!! stay hydrated and have a wonderful day/night everyone <3

[muraseclinic]

please just break me. beat me until i'm vomiting blood, cut me and make me cut myself, slit my wrists and drain my life away, bash my ugly fucking face in and shatter my skull - do whatever you please with me, as long as you make sure i'm never happy again. that for as long as you allow me to live i can never forget again how pathetic and unlovable and undeserving of life i am. tell me all about how worthless and unusable i am, how pretty real girls are and how badly i need to die for what i am. how i'll never be like them no matter what i do, how disgusting i am and always will be. crack my skull open if that's what it takes to make me understand that i'm only getting what i deserve for being this, that you're doing me and the rest of the world a favor by taking care of such a burden. nothing more than a blight on an otherwise beautiful world, one that just needs to be destroyed for the sake of everyone else. make me hopeless, show me that there's no point in trying to get better or live a good life, because there's no such thing as a good life for things like me. make me utterly repusled by the idea of myself happy. and when i finally get it through my skull how badly i deserve to die, how it's the only thing left for me, dangle it in front of me for your entertainment. force me to live in constant misery and torture, beating me just to the edge of release from all the pain i've felt and caused over my pathetic life, just to yank me back up out of the pit i've waited so long to finally hit the bottom of. laugh at the notion that i could ever deserve a life or a death. i could only ever be useful to anyone as a worthless little object to break and cut and kick and crack and stab and crush and bleed out. no love. why would i be loved? i'm so much less than a person anyway

.. oh wow !!✨≽^•༚• ྀི≼ this anon sure is desperate !

but i'd loveeeee to break you . beat you and fuck you because that's all you're good for !! anon thinks it's a real girl? no „ you’re not even a person ^^ the only thing you are is an object for my amusement „ something for me to play with and make cry when i want to.

i’d do whatever i want with you ,, destroy you because it’s what you deserve for being such a burden on the rest of society by simply being alive. i’d make you mutilate yourself for me ,, use your dirty body for my own needs ,, make you swallow blades or use you as my ashtray ~ ᥫ᭡

nobody could ever love a filthy ,, pathetic creature like you anyways.

you're worthless ,, something to be beaten and burned and broken. try and let others fool you all you want ,, we both know you’re a disgusting toy - you’ll never be good enough ,, you don’t deserve to be happy ,, and you don’t deserve to live .. but that doesn’t mean i’ll let you die <(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)>

i’ll strip away every last semblance of dignity you have left until you’re begging me to kill you ,, and then i’ll laugh in your face and leave you to rot ,, alive ,, because the only thing that you deserve is a life of me dangling death over your head like a carrot to a pig.

[ also if any one of you have dm’d me and i havent responded, be patient for me, kay? ( • ̀ω•́ )✧ ,, asks are open !! ]