#yes i want chase to suffer a little bit

[fullofsunsetwhispers]

wuya and dashi a good pair because dashi has no hair and wuya has all the hair and they both make it look very stylish

Ok, it seems as if this was written in a rush but I wholeheartedly agree Dashi and Wuya make a great STYLISH duo.

Since we're at it, I think it's very hilarious how anon put 'dashi has no hair and Wuya has all the hair'. Well, yeah! Wuya has such a thick hair volume for both of them! 😂

And because of that, I have a silly HC now. Dashi always loved to play with Wuya's hair. 'Wuya you could lend me some, alright?' (proceeds to put as many red strands on his head) Damn, I feel warm now <3

Wuya tries to shoo him away but Dashi decides to make her laugh so he makes a mustache out of her hair xD Lol it works

And taking into consideration, Dashi wouldn't stop at this, he would even bother Chase and Guan to 'lend him' their hair xDDD

Dashi, running after Chase with scissors: Brother, I have a date! Just a little trim, I swear!

Chase, who likes his hair the way it is: WHY CAN'T GUAN HELP YOU WITH THAT??

Dashi: Have you seen his stupid braid? Your hair is way more fabulous than his!

Chase: That's a nice compliment but LEAVE ME BE!

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Seventeen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader - AO3 - 4K words Tags: 18+ mdni. nurse!reader. PTSD, references and descriptions of domestic violence , grooming, manipulation, pregnancy. Simon's back story. Trauma. Bun opens up a bit more. Domesticity, feelings of anxiety, self doubt. Simon is a nervous dad. Emotional confessions.

“It’s Beth.” Simon wipes the countertop, chasing little dirty fingerprints with a wet cloth, before fixing a hesitant set of eyes on yours.

“That’s pretty… I like it.” There’s something odd about his expression, something haunted almost, a deep, dark well filled to the brim with rancid, stagnant water. You sense it immediately. “What’s wrong?”

He motions to the chair and slides your mug into your waiting hands. “Sit.”

“Simon?”

“It was my sister in law’s name. My brother’s wife.” Was. Your throat goes dry, muscles tensing.

“Was?” He pulls your fingers into his, cradled in the palm of his hand, thumb rubbing circles into your skin, over and over on a loop. A mechanism of comfort, connection. A thread stitch into the fabric between your heart and his.

“They died, sweetheart. My family… I lost them.” Grief, a shared experience you know now, froths in the pit of your heart. You tremble, he holds you steady, though it should be the other way around.

“What… what happened?” He sighs, dragging your palm to his lips.

“Let’s sit down on the couch.”

He holds you as he talks, diaphragm rumbling against your ear. You’re laid on his chest, unable to see his face, watch his expressions, but for this, you don’t feel the urge to dissect each one.

You’re content against him. Listening. Mourning.

There’s a swath of silence afterwards, and then he clears his throat. “So, I was dead. Dead until I met Johnny, I think. And then everything changed.” Johnny’s words from weeks and weeks ago make more sense, Simon’s actions and reactions rapidly gaining clarity. “When we found you, I saw it, the look in your eyes. It was the same one that used to haunt my mother’s.”

“You saved her.” He burrows his face in your neck and shakes his head.

“I did what I could to piece them back together. Helped get Tommy clean and on his feet, got rid of the old man for good, but the damage… the way she suffered, it was irreversible. The best I could do was be there as much as often as possible.” You comb through his hair, short strands of silk like Penny’s, and hold him close. “I promised myself, when I met Johnny, when we fell in love, I’d do better by my own family. For him, and then by Penny. And now you. Promised I wouldn’t become him.” Your heart clenches, squeezing in on itself. “Violence may have been a part of my job, but it wasn’t a part of me.” His fingers dance along your spine until they reach your chin, tilting you back to meet his gaze. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You whisper, leaning into his touch. He doesn’t need to ask for your trust, he already has it.

“Johnny thinks I’ve got a bit of a savior complex now, but I want you to know… that’s not what this is, bunny.”

“I know,” you clear your throat, fighting through the thick of emotion building there, accumulating in heaps, “I know that.”  

“But we do need to talk about him, you know that?” Darkness creeps along the wispy, dream-like cocoon the two of you built on the couch, and you push it away, try to banish it, basking in the comfort of his arms instead.

“I can’t, I… right now it feels like I’m in a dream where nothing hurts and nothing can scare me or hurt me, and I don’t-“

“You’re not in a dream, bunny. That’s your reality. This is real. Nothing can, or will, hurt you, scare you. No one will ever touch you again.”

“I need more time. Please.” Simon sighs, but doesn’t push, and the two of you lay there, together, suspended in comforting silence. For another moment, your world is a dream. A safe, beautiful dream, where happy endings are real, where love stretches on for eternity, unconditional, limitless, unbreakable.

You’re so different now, stark changes shocking to the girl you once knew, the one who doubled back on her routes to and from work, the one that walked everywhere with her hackles up. Little pieces of black rot now turned a blinding white, a brilliant beam seeking to shine on the whole of your life.

It’s a dream.

One you won’t easily surrender.

“I was really young.” It comes during a lapse in conversation, practically a blurt, an interruption pushing heat to your cheeks. Expelled from your mind, your body without choice, cracks appearing in the preservation that you’ve so defiantly clung to. You have to tell them, eventually. You have to break it all apart, let them see. Johnny’s mouth opens, and Simon’s hand darts to his wrist faster than a snake could strike, a clear signal. Don’t speak. “Obviously now, looking back on it, I realize I was groomed, or I guess, easily influenced. He was older, and I graduated early, started college early. I was in my second year when I turned eighteen. My mom,” the lump in your throat nearly chokes you until you swallow it down, “my mom busted her ass for me. I went to college on scholarships and her hard work.” Metal clanks against ceramic, forks settling on the edges of plates. “Anyway, everyone always thought I was a know-it-all and pretty awkward. We weren’t officially like, together right away but it was pretty serious from the day I met him. Eventually… he started to change me. Change my goals. He even manipulated my career path.”

“What did you go to school for?” Simon asks casually, head tilted.

“Bioscience. I wanted to be a doctor, so I thought it would transition well for med school. Thought I could become a surgeon.” You were a girl then; you know that now. Naïve, misguided by a hand that sought to control you, not love you as you hoped. It’s embarrassing, baring this, showing these broken bits and pieces to them, shattered shards of a mirror never glued back together.

“What happened?”

“He did.” Johnny squeezes your hand. “Made it to pre-med but ended up leaving and starting a nursing program instead. It’s what he wanted, and by then, I couldn’t say no.”

“But ye didnae want it, to be a nurse.”

“No. I didn’t. I love my job now, of course, and I’m happy in it, but originally, I wanted something else. He tricked me, in all honesty. Showed me something that wasn’t real, reeled me in, and then revealed his true colors.” You shudder. “The first time… the first time it happened, I shook it off, forgave him. I-“ the memory is still so strong, it stuns you. The blood from your busted lip is fresh on your tongue, sting on the side of your face turning to a blooming ache.

“Bunny?” Johnny’s grip moves to your elbow, strong, but not too tight. An anchor. You shake your head.

“Sorry.”

“Ye’re alright, ye can stop if-“

“No, I… I want to share these things with you. It feels like I’m supposed to, like you should know me… like this.”

“We already know you, sweetheart. Don’t push yourself.” Simon’s tone is serious, and you nod.

“It’s embarrassing, looking back on it and realizing how bad it was, how bad I let it get. How I let him cut me off from everyone, change my career, squash me like a bug.” You laugh, but it’s empty.

“Ye did nothin’ wrong,” Johnny’s lips press together, muscles in his jaw straining, “was never yer fault.” You don’t answer, just trace the woodgrain of the table, texture moving beneath your fingers. The conversation is draining you, leeching light away like a horizon swallowing the last of the sun.

“He’s rich. Like, fuck you money rich. Rich like make problems go away rich, and his job…” your head shakes again. It’s the most you’ve ever said, heavy buried secrets finally dug up, resurrected, the truth trembles through your bones. “He has resources. Has chased me across the globe more than once. My only saving grace is that when he has to work, he has to work, and it’s usually for long chunks of time.”

“I know you’ve said you’re not really sure, but did he ever tell you what his job entails?”

“He’s in the military. Some sort of security work, department of defense, or something. He never really talked about it.” Johnny shifts in his seat, antsy, and you shrug. “He kept that part of his life very, very private. There was even a room in the house that was always locked.” Your head is heavy, lead upon your shoulders, and Johnny tucks his arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

“I know this is hard bun, but ye’re so brave for us. Lettin’ us know ye this way. I’m proud of ye.” He murmurs, lips to your forehead, and you fully relax, wrapping around his middle.

“I’m tired.” You whisper, eyes closing, and he rubs your back.

“Let’s get ye to bed then.”

“Your child is too big for me to carry!” You announce, hand on your hip, little backpack straps looped around your arm. Simon closes the door behind you, chuckling, and Penny plops onto the floor. She goes to a nursery day program now a few days a week, something that was a contentious subject in the house for far too long, opinions and arguments ping ponging over your head until the decision was finally made.

“It’s not safe.”

“Ye cannae keep ‘er locked up here forever, love.”

“Why not?” Simon bounced Penny against his chest, unimpressed look on both their faces, so alike you almost busted out laughing.

“Because she’s a child. She needs to be w’other children, not just us.” Johnny brings his free hand to his lips, squeezing Simon’s wrist. “I know ye’re scared.” Simon’s not the only one who’s scared, you thought. Phillip lurked at the edge of your mind, worry that he might find Penny plagued you, even though they both assured that wasn’t their main concern.

“She’s too little.”

“Simon. We agreed on this,” Johnny gives him a sharp look, “do yer research, find the best one. Ye know this needs to happen, for her. She needs to make friends, learn how to interact with kids her own age. Ye know this.”

“Fine.”

“She cannae be, not m’wee lamb.”

“She is.” You rub your shoulder. “Sheesh.” Penny’s stomach gurgles at your feet, and Simon grimaces.

“There’s a bug goin’ around the kids, teacher told me today.”

“Not surprising. Nurseries are little petri dishes.” You straighten your back, rolling your shoulder, and wince.

“Hurts?” Simon’s thumb digs into the soft spot there, and your lashes flutter.

“Maybe ye need a hot bath,” Johnny suggests, and Simon ushers the two of you up the stairs.

“I’ve got Pen. Go relax.”

“This is nice.” Johnny soaps your back, lavender and vanilla steam swirling around in the bathroom as you lean against him, his chest to your back.

“Aye.” The cloth drags across your chest, teasing your nipples, and you revel in his touch, soaking in every second he gives you, the brush of his cheek against yours, his lips on your neck. “Like havin’ ye all to myself sometimes.” You blink.

“Does it bother you? When we’re not all together?”

“No. Ye have a relationship wit’ me, and wit’ Simon, and we have a relationship all together. No one is the same. I like it.”

“Me too.” You settle again, loose and tender in the bath, soaped hands running up and down your back, kneading your shoulders, releasing the tension coiled in your bones. You groan.

“Feel good then?”

“Yeah.” He presses a hand over your heart with a deep breath, before he takes another.

And then one more.

“What’s wro-“

“I love ye bun. Wholly. Think ‘ve loved ye since the day I opened my eyes to ye leaning over the bed in hospital.” You turn, twisting to face him, and he dabs your nose with his thumb. “I dinnae have any expectations of ye, or yer feelings, but I had to be honest. I had to tell ye.” The confession fights its way forward, begging to be let out, to be freed.

Tell him. Tell him the truth. Tell him you love them, that they’re your light, that they’ve chased the darkness away and replaced it with the sun.

You can’t.

Instead, you rest your forehead against his, syncing your breathing, sharing the moment, holding onto him so tight in case he slips away.

“I can’t say it.” You whisper, and he nods. “But that doesn’t mean… it doesn’t mean it’s not there. I’m just… I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“An’ that’s okay. I’ll wait, I’ll wait for ye as long as ye need.” There’s no pressure, no demands, just Johnny and his arms, his understanding and patience, his love.

You blink back tears and crash your lips to his. “Thank you.”

Your stomach is what wakes you.  

Something it in is burning, tossing bile around, the sensation strong enough your lips curl, and you try to draw a deep breath through your nose.

You wriggle, trying to pull free from where you’re tangled up in Simon and Johnny, carefully and slow, hoping to avoid waking them though you know even in their dreams, they sleep with one eye open.

 Still, you manage to make it to the bathroom before feet are padding across the carpet on your heels.

You sink to your knees in front of the toilet, stomach bubbling, sending the scorching remnants of dinner up your throat.

The door clicks open. “No, get out. I don’t want you to see-“ you gag again, tap turning on at the sink, a cold washcloth folding over your neck.

“Shhh,” Simon murmurs, rubbing your back, “get it all out.”

“Oh god,” another wave swells, and your muscles tense, body expelling bits of bile and not much else.

“That’s the way, good girl.”

“This is gross.” You gasp. “You should go back to bed.”

“I’ve seen way worse than you puking, sweetheart.”

“She alright?” Johnny half yells from the bedroom and you groan. The guilt of him having to maneuver himself out of bed, still not one hundred percent healthy, still not back to full strength, draws a shiver from your spine.

“I’m fine, don’t come in here!” Your stomach pitches, fingers tightening against your thighs, but nothing comes up, again and again, until everything settles and you’re breathing deeply, steady, back straight.

“Let’s get you some water.” There’s no point in arguing with him. He’s going to do what he wants to do when it comes to taking care of you, you know that now. It’s painfully clear as he tries to help you drink from the glass, and then puts toothpaste on your toothbrush.

“I’m fine.” You assure weakly, but he only watches you, concerned.

“Think it’s the nursery bug?”

“Probably.” You sag, energy drained completely, and he steadies you, cupping your cheek. His touch is cool, and you lean into it, savoring the reprieve it brings against your throbbing temples.

“Want to go back to bed?”

“What if I throw up again?” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll jus’ clean it up.”

“Can I ask you a question?” You glance up at the timid mouse of a nurse, brand new, fingers clutched around a tablet like she’s drowning and it’s her life vest.

“What’s up?”

“Can you… can you look at these orders for me?” She looks terrified, and it tells you everything you need to know. She’s probably caught a mistake.

Baby nurses begin their careers in a delicate position. They’re overwhelmed, fresh off a whirlwind of orientation, overloaded with policy and procedure, and depending on their preceptor, either somewhat prepared or completely lost. Pitting a baby nurse against a provider, even a first-year resident, is like sending a lamb in to confront a lion. The result is usually tears.

She hands you the tablet and you spot it immediately. Incorrect dosage.

“Good catch.” You reassure, coaxing a small smile, and she nods.

“What do I do?”

“We go find the provider and clarify the dosage.” You’re not going to leave it up to her, alone, hang her out to dry and probably get run over by whatever moron ordered it in the first place, who happens to be-

Marshall.

Your eyes couldn’t roll any harder. “The pharmacy is also very on top of seeing errors like this, but it’s good you’ve noticed too, for the patient and yourself. Liability for things like this can be very tricky.” She nods again, trailing behind you, brand new squeaky sneakers echoing your own steps.

You can’t stop the sigh that escapes you when you find him, leaned up against a wall, arms crossed, smirking, cocking his head at your companion. “What’s up?”

“Can you take a look at this for me?” You purposefully zoom in on the meds tab, practically painting a bullseye around his error. He scoffs, defensive immediately, dismissive, before he takes a closer look, jaw clenched.

“That’s my mistake.” You blink. Marshall rarely ever takes responsibility so gracefully. Your eyebrow lifts.

“Care to fix it?”

“Of course.” His agreement is punctuated with a smile, though it’s off kilter.

“You can go,” you nod to the nurse, “good job.” Her eyes dart between you and Marshall, and without another word, scampers off.

“She’s new?” His usual interest in new nurses is less enthusiastic than ever.

You hate Marshall. He’s a scumbag. But he’s also been your coworker since day one, and you can’t help yourself. “What’s up with you?”  

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never owned up to a mistake that quickly, and you didn’t even make some smart-ass remark. Or berate her. Or give me an attitude.” He winces.

“It’s nothing.” But it doesn’t seem like nothing. It seems like something is wrong, like he’s sad, or depressed, and try as you might, your bleeding heart can’t walk away.

“What’s wrong.” You phrase a statement, a demand, instead of a question, and he blows a frustrated breath.

“It’s… I’m seeing someone.” Your eyes go wide.

“Who?” Please don’t say a nurse, please don’t say a nurse, please-

“Anna. From radiology.”

“Oh my god. The cupcake girl?” Anna was a fan favorite. Not only was she kind, but she was also quick with her reads, and baked cupcakes for the entire floor almost once a month. As far as radiologists go, she was better than most.

“Yeah.”

“Okay…”

“I really like her but… she’s always been aware of my reputation and is trying to take it slow. Too slow.” You could lecture him with a million reasons why she’s in the right, but it doesn’t seem like he’s got the resolve to handle it.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s dragging her feet. Doesn’t want to hang out more than once a week, rarely stays the night. I’ve been to her place a handful of times, but that’s it.”

“How long has it been?”

“Two months.” You laugh.

“That’s it?”

“It’s a long time for me!” You hold your hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, but seriously. Two months is no time at all. Have you discussed the… reluctance with her?” He seems uneasy, and for the first time, you’re not sure if you enjoy watching him squirm.

“Yeah. She says she’s happy, but isn’t trying to jump into anything,” his air quotes carry a whiff of the condescending asshole you know too well. This conversation couldn’t be timelier, and you think back to what you told Johnny the other night.

“Just because she’s taking it slow doesn’t mean her feelings for you aren’t there. You have to respect that. If she’s still putting up with you after two months, I’d bet she’s just being cautious. Getting hurt sucks.” He nods thoughtfully. “Give her the time she’s asking for, and don’t give up.”

Don’t give up.

The sentiment twists a knife lodged deep in your heart. Is that what will happen to you? Will they give up? Get tired of waiting for you to spill all your secrets, get tired of waiting for you to take the final step? To tell them you love them?

Get tired of waiting for you to let them use your real name?

“I didn’t expect her, didn’t expect to feel this way.” The mask comes down, revealing a hopelessly lovesick heart, the depth of it shining in his eyes.

“I don’t think anyone ever does expect it. That’s the surprising thing about love, I guess.” You sway, a palm pressed to the wall as your hand flattens over your stomach.

“You alright?” Marshall’s voice is far away as you breathe through your nose, trying to fend off the nausea tightening your throat.

“Sorry, I’ve been a bit under the weather. Think I’ve got a bug or something.” Your stomach roils in warning, and you barely grit out an apology before dashing away.

Just in time to toss your breakfast up in the toilet.

“I’m fine.”

“I heard you in the toilet. You didn’t sound fine, and you shouldn’t be working if you’re sick.” Your manager shakes her head like she’s disappointed, and you glare. You both know if you had called this morning talking about a stomach bug, she would have told you to suck it up unless you were actively vomiting.

“Look around. Do you see an excess of nurses on the floor?”

“We’ll manage. Or call someone in.” You shake your head.

“We’re already way past policy ratios.” You bite your tongue when safe nearly slips out, not wanting to piss her off. That’s the union’s job.

“At least go sit down or something. Take a break. Come back in twenty minutes and let me know how you feel.”

Your closet is cozy, and for once during the day, unoccupied. The nausea has subsided, for now, and you shoot a text to the guys, asking about Penny. If you feel like this, you can’t imagine how she feels.

You curl up and imagine you’re home instead, maybe in bed with a sleeve of crackers and some soda, warm chest at your back, a hand stroking over your hip. Maybe you’d have some soup, maybe the three of you would watch a movie after Pen went down for bed. You start to drift in the domestic fantasy, sleeping curling itself like a blanket over your shoulders, until you’re startled by the vibration of your phone, foot kicking forward in a jolt against a shelf.

A box falls to the floor.

HCG strips.

You stare at it for a long time, numbers and dates and weeks mashing together, calculations getting lost in the fray.

You’re not…

No.

Ridiculous. Not even possible. You’re on the pill. Religiously.

You have the nursery bug that Pen brought home. Get a grip.

Still…

You use the fifth-floor bathroom, one of the only single occupant toilets in the whole damn hospital, nausea now coming from a completely different source.

The timer on your phone is incredibly slow, or maybe it’s just time itself, the world turning in slow motion, every second elongated into turbulent silence, too many thoughts, too many feelings, too much of everything to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Fear.

Anxiety.

Panic.

Sadness.

Grief.

It’s grief that is the strongest. Grief for something that Phillip stole, mourning for something that was once so close, so real, and then gone in an instant.

If you close your eyes, you can still feel his boot in your stomach. The press of a steel toe, jammed beneath your ribs, wild, deranged eyes staring down at you in a rage.

But-

Buried so, so far beneath the crushing weight of it all, there is a bright little pocket of sunshine. A small little sliver of light, beams of hope stretching for the sky, warmth spilling over until your hands tremble with the conflict warring inside you.

Nothing has changed, but everything could.

The timer goes off with a shrill chime, and you lean over the sink to where the small strip sits on top of a cup.

A bold pink line.

And then another, more faint, but certainly there. A simple equation, one plus one equals two. Simple math.

Tangible. Present.

Pregnant.

[leighsartworks216]

Obedient Pet

dom!bottom!Astarion x male!sub!top!Tav/Reader

I saw a while ago something that said being dominant is not the same as being a top, and GOD it did things to my brain chemistry. So this mixed with my belief Astarion would be quiet in bed once he's comfortable and neglect to focus on his own wants/needs

SMUT BELOW THE CUT

Warnings: swearing, dacryphilia/crying, dom/sub, collars, gagging, not being able to breathe (for a moment), anal sex, face-fucking, references to punishment

Word Count: 1,276

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The chain trailing from the collar around your neck to Astarion's tight fist rattled with every little motion. The sound would have been annoying if it weren't harmonizing with the wet slap of skin.

You kept your hands safely constrained, arms folded behind your back, nails pressing into your skin. You'd tried touching him once already; your cock still weeped from the torture of waiting. Your tears and quiet whimpers were music to Astarion's pointed ears, but the sight of you so drunk on his orders was truly something special.

"Slower," he ordered. You whined, but obeyed. You gasped as you forced your hips to pull out maddeningly slowly, until the flushed tip of your sensitive cock nearly slipped out. With the slightest tug at your chain, you thrust just as slowly back inside. "Good boy."

Astarion smirked at the visible reaction his words had on you. The chill that chased goosebumps down your body, the swallow to fight back your moans, the beautiful way your chest and stomach rose and fell with each hot breath. To say nothing about the feeling of your cock twitching within him, or the pitter-patter of your heart.

You were not dominant, that much had been clear to the vampire practically from the moment he laid eyes on you. Two hundred years gave one a sense for these things. He relished in fucking you face down into the dirt or settling your legs over his shoulders as he ruined you. But this? This was pure ecstasy. Being fucked by a pet who answered to his every command - now that was something.

"Are you close, pet?" he purred sweetly. You nodded with an acute franticness. He tugged at your chain, dragging your face closer, forcing your wet eyes on him as you keened so deliciously. "Use your words."

Like the pitiful whine of an injured dog, you cried, "Yes."

Even through your tears you could see the gears turning in his head as he decided whether to end your suffering or see just how much more you could fall apart. With a hum, he eased up on your chain, allowing you to sit back up on your knees. "Go ahead then. Cum for me, my dear."

He groaned as you set a frenzied pace. Fast, deep thrusts that tuned him into his own body, making him realize how much your own punishments and obeying had affected him.

You panted as you chased your high. It was right there, within reach. You could feel it coming up on you like a runaway carriage. You fought through the building euphoria to look at your lover. His head was tilted back into the pillow, mouth open and eyes shut as he lost himself to your own desperation. His cock lay heavy on his stomach, bouncing with each thrust and glistening as precum dripped onto his pale skin.

But the most maddening thing of all, the sight that sent you careening over the edge, was watching your dick fuck into him. You cock disappearing into his asshole as it clenched around you, pushing so fucking deep inside. Your breath caught in your throat, your thrusts became short. With his name on your lips, you buried yourself as deep as you could and released. Your cock twitched and strained as you spilled hot strings of cum inside Astarion.

He bit his lip, back arching. When you pulled your soft cock out of him, still dribbling cum, he growled quietly with frustration. He had not found his release. No matter - he was no stranger to finish himself off later. He would just-

"Ah~!" His eyes shoot open and nearly roll back in his skull as he watches you suck at the head of his dick. Your eyes are closed. Your hand guides him to your mouth, squeezing and stroking him in small, slow motions.

He props himself up on one hand, the one holding the chain, and tangles the other in your hair. "Good boy," he mutters, far too focused on your tongue licking at his slit to try sounding in any way dignified.

You bob your head, hollowing your cheeks as you slowly work more and more of him into your mouth. Your teeth graze his skin, like a silent threat. He wonders for a brief second if that is how you feel when he bites you; the trust that he will not drain you dry with the thrill that he could nonetheless.

"Fuck," he breathes sharply as his tip prods the back of your throat. He grips tighter at your hair, holding you in place, your nose pressing against his abdomen. He can feel the shaky breaths you take, struggling around his cock.

He lifts your head back up, almost pulling you off. Even now, you are so obedient. All the power is in his hands. It's addicting.

As you suck languidly at the head of his cock, you open your eyes to look up at him. Your pupils are dilated, lids drooped ever so slightly. Drool slips from the corner of your mouth, down your chin. Your cheeks shimmer with nearly-dried tears.

"So beautiful." He sighs as he guides you back down on him, groaning as you swallow around him. "Fuck. Such a good pet."

Your eyes shut again as you allowed yourself to be fully controlled. It started out rather slow, never pushing too far. All too quickly, it devolved while he chased his release.

He could not guide your head fast enough. With a string of curses you couldn't understand, he fell back onto the bed and grabbed your head with both hands. He held you steady as he thrust up, cock rutting against the back of your throat. You gagged and fought to breathe through your nose, but you did not stop him. More tears pooled in your eyes as your lungs ached.

With a few final, harsh thrusts and the sweet whisper of your name, hot cum filled your mouth. You clutched at the bed as you struggled to swallow it all. You aren't sure if he noticed your struggle, or if he'd only done it for his sake, but he pulled you off of him before he was fully finished, spilling the last of his seed on his stomach.

You breathed greedily through your nose as you swallowed the last of his cum, opening up your mouth and showing off the flat of your tongue to prove it.

His cool hands gently released your hair and worked instead to brush the tears and spit off your face. You tiredly leaned into the touch, welcoming every soft caress.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, worriedly.

You nodded slightly. Your throat ached, your hair stung where he'd pulled on it, your body was exhausted, but you were no worse for wear. You cleared your throat with a wince and murmured, "Just gotta breathe."

He brushed his thumbs over your eyelashes. "I'll try not to get so carried away next time.” He tsked. “You mortals are so fragile."

You smiled and finally opened your eyes. He grinned. Your body complained as you sat yourself back up, shivering as the cold chain brushed your skin. Astarion followed you up and worked quickly and efficiently to remove the leather collar. He set it aside in favor of brushing his lips over the raw skin.

"You did so well," he hummed. Your head fell to the side automatically, allowing him more access. As tempting as it was, you were drained enough without him taking a sip. Instead, he pressed a kiss to your jaw and pulled away. "Come on, dear. Let's get you cleaned up."

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @puppyg1rl666 @cyber-dump-171 @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @the-lake-is-calling @nyxmainex @squid-killer @godoffuckedupcats @dark-angel-is-back @gaymistakeboi @asterordinary

[azullumi]

ayato, kazuha, wanderer — mornings with him (2) ☆彡

summary — mornings with him are often filled with nothing but affection and not wanting to leave the bed.

characters — ayato, kazuha, wanderer (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, established relationship; scenario

word count — 757

a/n — this is part 2 out of 2! this is the link to the first part!

AYATO

"my love, it's cold." he grumbles, pulling you closer to him to prevent you from leaving and you can't completely escape his grasp when he's holding you so tight. he's acting as if there's no blanket that could warm him up and get rid of the cold but in his own defense, your own warmth beats the blanket's own so deal with it.

"archons, you're too warm." you say, trying to make him let go of you, however, he wouldn't budge. "it's cold."

"ayato."

"i don't want to."

he has you wrapped closely to him with his arms, completely showing how he doesn't want to let go of you. however, you were suffering because of how hot it is and the fact that ayato was holding you so tightly wasn't helping.

"do you not feel the cold?" he asks and you responded immediately, "obviously, i do not."

"well, too bad, i do."

you could already imagine the expression on his face, a smirk tugging on his lips, clearly amused and archons, he should be thankful that you couldn't escape his arms or else he he would have to get out of the bed with a red handprint on his face.

"release me or i will not talk to you the whole morning."

he hums, "bet."

ayato, later on that morning, had to apologize and plead for you to talk to him already.

KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

"stay a little bit longer," he reaches out and grabs your wrist, holding onto it as you were about to stand up from the bed. his grip on you wasn't tight and it was easy to just shake it off to make him let go of you but you couldn't find it within yourself to do that.

it was obvious from his voice that he was sleepy and he did not have even the smallest bit of intention of leaving the bed with you until later. however, you have to start moving now or else the morning will start late for you and you'll end up having to chase after tasks that you could have finished right now, at this moment.

"kazuha," you called and he hummed as a response, still not moving from his position, "let go, i need to leave the bed already."

he whines, pulling you closer to him, burying his face on your hair. "just a little bit longer then we can leave."

"i can't do that."

"yes, you can," he replies and you could only sigh. you dragged yourself out ot the bed with kazuha behind you who seemingly didn't mind as long as he still has his hold on you. he has his eyes closed and only relying on you for suport.

you ended up having to go through your whole morning with a sleepy kazuha clinging onto you and following you around.

WANDERER

"come back here." a voice calls out to you, a grumple, clear irritation lacing the tone of it. you turn to look at him, smiling at the sight of his messy hair and sleepy expression. it was a rare thing to see and it was honestly cute though if you're going to say that outloud, he might not like it.

"i have work, kuni." oh, how he adores the way you gently call him by his nickname, the one wherein its only you who is allowed to call him that, though he didn't think much of it and focused on the fact that you were really planning on leaving his side before he wakes up.

"that's not important, go back to sleep." he says, pulling you back to the warmth of the sheets and the comfort of his arms. he has himself positioned behind you, his face hiding at the crook of your neck and you could feel his breath fanning against your skin and his hair tickling you, emitting a chuckle out of you.

"kuni," you say, dragging his name longer out of your tongue, seemingly a warning to which he didn't listen to. he only hummed though and this only ended up tickling you more. noticing your reaction, he peppered kisses on your neck to drive more out of you and it was a success when you were a laughing mess, trying to escape him.

giggles and laughter filled the whole room when he continued to tickle you with his kisses and touch. through broken chuckles, you pleaded to him to stop and let go of you but he didn't listen and only said:

"no, this is your punishment for trying to leave me."

— navigation | masterlist

[aventurineswife]

sunday, aventurine, etc (separately) with an elysia {hi3} personality reader?

i love ur fics btw remember to take care of urself 🤍

Chasing Stars and Sweet Nothings

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Elysia like personality!Reader, Romantic Fluff, Playful Romance, Lighthearted Moments, Mystery, Attraction, Comfort and Warmth, Thoughtful Conversation, Soft Sunday, Flirtation, Teasing, Emotional Healing, Philosophical Undertones.

A/N: I'm not sure if I wrote this correctly but I had to read the wiki for the personality, so I hope I got it right 😪 also thank you, anon! I appreciate and take care of yourself too!! 🤭🫶💖🤧

Aventurine had always prided himself on his ability to read people, but you? You were a mystery wrapped in rose-colored laughter and mischief, and he couldn’t help but be drawn to it.

One evening, as the city lights painted your silhouettes with a glow, Aventurine watched you twirl in the warm night air, a contented smile on your face. “You know, every time I look at you, I can’t help but wonder what you’re hiding.” he murmured, amused but curious.

You laughed, your voice like chimes in the quiet. “Now, why would I hide anything from you, Mr. Big Shot Investor?” you teased, leaning into his shoulder with a playful grin. “Unless, of course, you’re willing to wager a bit more of your time to find out?”

He smirked, placing his hand on your waist, leading you into a gentle sway. “With you, everything’s a gamble,” he said, “but for once, I don’t mind risking it all.” You laughed softly, eyes sparkling with a hidden depth, drawing him in like the cards he played so expertly.

As you leaned closer, whispering sweet nothings and absurd promises, Aventurine found himself unable to focus on anything but you. You were a mystery he would never fully unravel, yet it was in your lighthearted laughter and gentle teasing that he found something he’d never bet on—a sense of peace.

“Stay with me tonight?” he asked, a rare softness crossing his face. You gazed up at him, smiling as if you already knew the answer long before he’d asked. "Only if you promise we’ll make it interesting.” you replied, leaving a trail of laughter as you pulled him into the unknown.

Sunday was used to people who followed his vision, who sought comfort in his promises of a painless dream, but you… you were a delightful anomaly, never quite fitting into any category he’d known.

“You look so serious, Sunday,” you cooed, nudging him playfully. “Why all the gloomy thoughts when you’re with me?” Your smile was radiant, as if the world’s sorrow never even grazed your spirit, and he found himself taken aback.

“Not everyone views the world with such… resilience,” he replied, his tone softer than usual. “Most seek peace, an escape from suffering.”

You chuckled, twirling a strand of his hair as if you’d known him forever. “Ah, but what is life without a little excitement? You don’t think your ‘Sweetdream Paradise’ would get boring after a while?” You raised an eyebrow, your tone teasing, yet sincere.

Sunday’s gaze softened, his golden eyes reflecting an unspoken conflict. “Perhaps. But there’s a kindness in sparing people from pain, is there not?”

You tilted your head, pressing a gentle hand to his cheek. “Kindness, yes, but people need a spark too. Just think, Sunday—if we never knew pain, how could we ever appreciate happiness?” You flashed a cheeky smile and continued, “Even you, my noble dreamer, wouldn’t want to miss out on a bit of thrill, right?”

He chuckled, an uncommon sound for him, but one that felt entirely natural in your presence. “Perhaps there’s merit in your way of thinking,” he admitted, his hand resting atop yours. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “But tonight, I’d like to learn from your world, where joy mingles with challenge. Show me how you see it.”

You beamed up at him, slipping your arm through his. “It’s a date, then! Let’s make this world unforgettable together.” With you, even Sunday’s unwavering dream began to flicker with shades of something new, something alive.

[nathaniel-underwood-is-an-intj]

Looong rant about chapter 16 Ptolemy's Gate and how being passive can add to the cycle of ab*se.

oof so I just read when Nat goes to see Ms Lutyens and I can't help but be absolutely furious at her??

I know that's maybe a little bit unfair given she's frightened of him as a magician and is obviously angry when she finds out the department he's responsible for, but honestly it kinda brings up the problem with inadvertent bystanders to child ab*se in my mind.

And I'm definitely not blaming her solely for who Nat becomes but it makes me think of all those people in huge child ab*se cases who give interviews to press about all the things they noticed that were wrong but they just...never do anything?

She stood up for him against Lovelace, and when Nat thanked her- "I wanted to say that I know you were trying to save me, and-"

''Yes, and I'm sorry I didn't" Like girl be for real did you really think that alone would undo the years of indoctrination and abuse he's already suffered and prevent years worth of the same in the years to come? And she won't take responsibility - "My job is with children, not the adults they become" and again while it seems harsh to blame her for who Nat becomes, it's so much easier to pass the blame to people who are more directly responsible rather than acknowledging you also play a part.

I think it hurts so much more because it's her specifically- Nat goes to her in sheer desperation, it almost seems like a goodbye- he wants to thank her, tries to set her up in a job that will pay well and struggles to communicate he's trying to help. At this point he thinks Bartimaeus has been summoned by another magician and his birth name will be revealed. He's sure he's about to die and if not he'll be stood on trial and lose everything.

He goes to her because she represents the peaceful moments from his childhood when he got away from his master. He's scared and feeling lost and really it's call for help; but he doesn't ask for anything he just wants to make her feel proud of him- he's looking for that validation that he's been chasing since childhood.

And that shows he still does have that little bit of childhood innocence in him; he thinks she will be proud, thinks she'll see him as the same little boy in the garden gazing up at his teacher in adoration. He can't quite grasp why she's separated the man stood before her from that little boy. Because in that moment the child inside Nathaniel is seeking comfort AND THAT'S WHY it makes me so angry. She's completely given up on him when he's at his lowest ebb, because she doesn't want to be associated with the magician he's become. As if it isn't a massive step in the right direction that he saught her out in the first place- what other magican would bother? I wonder if that's why she reacted so strongly to seeing him again? Before that moment she could go about her life wondering if /pretending her attempt to protect him was enough, and now she realises it wasn't, of course it wasn't, and the image she had of Nathaniel's childhood innocence is completely ruined in her mind.

Or was her contempt for him even grater than Nat realised? She was naturally disgusted by the rhetoric he'd started to repeat from a young age, and gently tried to correct him although she was clearly angry- was she just resigned to the fact that there is little else she could do to change his future? I always thought- couldn't she have looked for him? The Underwood house fire was in the papers and they mentioned the apprentice was being searched for. Did she ever worry about him? Surely something must have been in the papers since- an announcement of new ministers, ANYTHING! Look at how much research Kitty did to find out about Bartimaeus and Ptolemy. I just don't think Rosanna Lutyens cared enough, realistically Nathaniel wasn't hard to find- but he was no longer her responsibility so she could turn a blind eye.

And sadly it's not just her- I know everyone loves Martha Underwood including Nat; but I think her submissiveness to her husband has a negative effect on Nathaniel as well. In AOS when Nat is locked in his room for ages after setting the mites loose, and is forbidden to have any contact with anyone and she won't talk with him. I know she's been told by Mr. Underwood she can't, but it still boils my blood. She's an adult and going along with ignoring Nathaniel because her husband told her to...I can't even begin to imagine the psychological damage that would do to a 10 year old child. (It could be argued she's frightened of the consequences if her husband finds out she's disobeyed him which is fair, he could always be watching through magic- but this is Arthur Underwood we're talking about. He's lazy, oblivious and weak I doubt he'd expend all that energy each day to check up on her.)

And It's even more painful that Nathaniel is often described as fiercely loyal to her and I think to Ms Lutyens as well- he doesn't expect to be treated well by Arthur Underwood but he loved Mrs Underwood and Ms Lutyens so much he started to view them through a rose-coloured lense. He never feels betrayed by either of them, even though they absolutely let him down, because the pedestal he's put them on is too high AND THAT ABSOLUTELY DESTROYS ME.

Would things with Nathaniel have been any different if Mrs Underwood hadn't died? I don't really think so. Do you think she'd see Nathaniel's temper at 14 years old and be reminded of Arthur Underwood? He was awful, absolutely awful to Nat and to her; but he was under so much stress in an underfunded departement, where pressure was being put on him by superiors to accomplish far more than they knew him to be capable of, and he took it out on the easiest target. Nathaniel ends up in exactly the same place and he starts to take it out on the only person around him- Bartimaeus. Would he snap at Mrs Underwood all the time if she were still there? Because he's learnt that behaviour from his father figure, and subconsciously learnt from his mother figure that she'll put up with it. He learnt from the woman he loved so deeply, that if you don't resist, people will walk all over you. So you have to maintain control even if it ends up hurting people you care about because no one will step in to stop the suffering no matter how much you love them, no matter how much you want them too.

It's easy to blame Arthur Underwood and Simon Lovelace and the magicians that actively hurt Nathaniel but I just feel like it's a bit disingenuous not to acknowledge the role of those doing passive harm. It's really mean to say it but even Bartimaeus plays a role- he knows Nat is clinging on to him because he can't 'bring himself to break this last connection' (to his childhood) but instead of bringing it up properly he 'taunts' Nathaniel- a boy who has been taunted for his weakness by his master for years. And even in AOS when Nathaniel tells Bartimaeus he was beaten for the mites incident Bart just kinda shrugs it off. Like I get it, why should Bartimaeus do anything, he's suffered way worse due to the system so he doesn't owe Nat anything right? But from Nat's point of view this is the first and only time he's mentioned to anyone what has happened to him and nothing changes. It's like another lesson learnt: telling someone about it doesn't help. Another nail in the coffin.

And I like all these characters, I feel bad for them. They're all victims of the system, I think the chapter with Ms Lutyens is just the straw that broke the camel's back for me. All of those little opportunities that are insignificant to the narrative over all; the commoners have it worse, Nathaniel is in a privileged position in society, exerting control over others. He's very morally grey, crossing over into objectively bad person territory but I love him with my whole heart and all of those insignificant moments would have been massive to him whether he was conscious of it or not.

And it goes all the way back to the beginning with Nat's parents giving him up to the magicians at 5 years old. I can't get the image of that little boy sat crying all alone in the government building. And he's not going somewhere safer, or somewhere he'll be happier and more loved. Giving your child over to a total stranger, oh he'll be totally fine won't he? He'll grow up to be a magician and far richer than you'll ever be, he'll be happy and comfortable and be grateful he got to grow up in luxury. There's no way a stranger you've never met, who the majority of society is terrified of would ever hurt a vulnerable little kid right? And if they do? Well you aren't responsible anymore, how could you know? What could you possibly do against the magician taking care of him?

Every little thing is another grain of sand tipping the scale. Did anyone else have to analyse An Inspector Calls in school? It feels like that to me- those BIG moments and all the little moments in between that add onto the pile.

And it goes on to cause problems in wider society too- ab*se is so normalised to the magicians, they casually ask Underwood if he hits Nathaniel like it's nothing. Because to them it is nothing, they've all grown up in the same circumstances and are repeating what they've learnt as children. I can't help but feel a little sorry for them all, especially when they aren't looked at through the black and white lense of 'argh these people are the evil arseholes look at how they treat everyone around them, screw these guys.' When we see those little glimpses of humanity like Simon's anxiety with the amulet; looking to his master and father figure Schyler for reassurance, and what's sad is that Nat is "reminded...of his own master's cold impatience" It's clear Simon looks up to his master, wants to make him proud and loves him. But it seems like Schyler has just trained Simon up so he can get power through him later on. I love the little hints of similarities between Simon and Nathaniel; the anxious mannerisms like fiddling with his hair that Nathaniel starts to develop, the way their master's talk to them. Even though they're actively working against each other in AOS and Simon is placed firmly in the baddies category and Nat in the goodies category at this point in the series; these things always hinted to me they had similar childhoods, how was Simon treated? When he had the imp beat Nat into unconsciousness, was it because he'd had the same punishment used against him? Did he know the magicians in the room would do nothing to stop him because no one stopped it from happening to him? Did he ever have a teacher stand up for him only for it to change nothing in the end because all the negative influences were so much stronger? Is the reason he loves Schyler like a dad because he's almost developed Stockholm syndrome? It looks like love because he's never known anything else.

And Arthur Underwood- who doesn't think his upbringing, and being taken away from his family ever did him any harm- doesn't realise the harm done is that he doesn't even know another way of raising Nathaniel, because he was never shown another way. His childhood may also have been filled with people who hurt him and the people that didn't do enough to intervene.

There are so many psychology studies that show children copy everything they see the adults in their life doing. Nathaniel copies the magicians behaviour towards spirits and on a subconscious level I think he copies all the submissive people in his life. How many times does he end up upset and frustrated with the fact he seems to be going nowhere and how many times does he just hope things will be different rather than taking postive action.

I dislike the actions the magicians end up taking but I also find them fascinating to analyse. I tend to prefer villains in media because they're usually slightly more complex individuals and I love to think about how they ended up that way. They can all be seen as victims of their circumstances in a way, despite all the power and privilege they have had terrible and traumatic childhoods, and if the commoners had no valuable worldy possessions at least they had a sense of togetherness; of love and understanding and selflessness. I wonder if the magicians hated them at least partly because of that. Because out in the sea of faces of the commoners talking about nothing important, doing nothing great and noble- could be the parents that abandoned them. And when your life is on the line daily because of working with spirits, and your colleagues want to stab you in the back, sometimes not being responsible for anything important looks good. But you can't leave your life as a magician, it would be too difficult; you have nowhere to go, no real friends, no one who really loves you. So it's better to stay and be a submissive bystander in your own life because it's so much easier.

Doing nothing is doing something- being passive can be just as harmful.

[veilishvixen]

I’ve always hated how abruptly the balcony scene ends. Like how are you going to kiss me with the passion of a thousand burning suns and then just…turn and…skulk off?? Something was missing, so here’s the cut off I would have preferred:

“If the Dalish could raise someone with a spirit like yours…” he shakes his head and asks sincerely, “Have I misjudged them?”

She nearly rolls her eyes. Solas had never been shy in expressing his distaste for the Dalish, but she was still surprised to learn just how little he understood. The wayward and wandering clans rarely met for a reason; the only thing they had in common was their pigheadedness. The clans he’d met might very well have earned his ire, but there were many still he had yet to meet. Once again, he was failing to see the conundrum in his questioning; the nomadic elves were far too singular to be criticized as one.

“The Dalish didn’t make me like this. The decisions were mine.”

His brow twitches and he jerks forward ever so slightly, “Yes! You are wise to give yourself that due...”

I know, that’s why I said it. She’s wise enough to keep that bit to herself.

“Although the Dalish, in their fashion, may still have guided you.”

She wishes she could give him actual names to cling to; memories and stories like the ones he so freely shared with her…but something sharper than wisdom has her clamping her mouth shut.

He nods assuredly, “Perhaps that is it. I suppose it must be. Most people act with so little understanding of the world…but not you.”

She can’t help but give a miffed shake of her head, “So what does this mean, Solas?”

He gives her a smug smile, “It means I have not forgotten the kiss.”

Oh.

Oh?

Mischief chases wisdom from her mind with a canon fuse in its teeth and she delights in the sudden burst of energy that follows. “Good.” Her smile grows only for his to falter. Coward. Folding both hands behind her back, she steps precariously into his space, only deigning to stop at his toes so he could be allowed the first move. His desire is a heavy thing; more than just lust gazed down at her now, more than just love…but still, she wanted it.

He shakes his head, then shakes it again. Her chin lifts to follow his lips and she chases his arm before he can turn to leave her one last time.

“Don’t go.” She’d let him of course, if that was what he wanted…but it would have to be the end. She couldn’t allow this to go on any longer.

His head tilts miserably, “It would be kinder in the long run…but losing you would-“

He’s pulling at her waist and stealing the breath from her mouth before she can finish registering the words. Her hands rise instinctively to hold him back, but he’s already moving again, ushering her mouth to open wider for him while hugging her close enough to lift her heels off the ground. She moans involuntarily when he jostles her weight to grasp her tighter. How could she feel so full while being devoured at once? It was torment. It was bliss. Then it was a gasp of sun baked mountain air and a breathless avowal, “Ar lath ma, Vhenan.” She gazes jadedly up at him…could he even know what those words meant to her? She wasn’t surprised to feel sorrow…it followed her love everywhere; just as light suffered shadow. She loved him too. She found she could not yet say it aloud, but she did. Even when they disagreed and she wasn’t even sure if she liked him…she loved him. Her soul gushes at the epiphany and Genya wonders if it shows when tears begin to shimmer in his eyes. She catches the first one, but he’s withdrawing before she can wipe the rest away. At first she doesn’t understand, but then she hears the door close and a pair of heeled boots clicking up the stairs. “Inquisitor? I- Oh…my apologies.” Solas has put a casual distance between them and is leaning on the balustrade by the time Josephine crests the final step. She lowers her eyes before they can indulge in anymore curiosity, “Forgive me for the intrusion your worship, but it seems your counsel will be needed in the war room after all.”

Genya gives an amused sigh and dismisses Solas with an idle nod, “Let me guess…” his eyes pass over Josephine to steal one final glance…then he’s gone. “Leliana says we should kill her, you say we should negotiate, and Cullen says it is a waste of time.”

Her sigh is the only confirmation Genya needs. “Very well then,” she offers the ambassador her arm, “Shall we go introduce our friends to the art of conversation?” She hardly notices Josephine’s flutterings of gratitude, or the arm she accepts in earnest…all she can think of is Solas; the dreamer who wandered the fade just as she wandered awake…and all those precious tears she’d left him to wipe away on his own.

[orgverse]

space pirate!seonghwa for @sanjoongie please suffer with her, everyone! sorry if this sucks, i'm trying to get back in the writing grove.

you had joined the crew when they had found you running away from some galactic guards and saved you. you remember bumping into seonghwa, his eye boring into you deadly, but not as deadly as when he looked at the guards. you begged them to help you, not wanting to be arrested – you had no idea why they were chasing after you and you really didn't want to find out.

however, despite running into seonghwa, it was hongjoong who took pity on you and killed the guards before they harm you.

since they saved you, hongjoong decided that you were now in their debt. they made you a part of their crew and had you doing meaningless task on both the ship and when you docked at a new planet.

that's how your journey with the notorious space pirates, ateez, started; however, what you originally dreaded has now turned into something completely different.

which is how you regularly end up underneath one or more of said space pirates. some of them more than others, but all of them seeking your comfort in one way or another.

which is how you are currently spread out on the quartermaster's bed as the pink haired pirate pounds into you. you can feel the slight burn in your thighs as your legs were thrown over his shoulders, properly bending you in half. his cock filling you up so well that you couldn't help but let your eyes roll into the back of your head.

seonghwa's grunts fill the room up even when he shoves his face into your neck. he starts to press open mouth kisses over a certain area of your neck and you brace yourself for when he bites down into your flesh.

you still couldn't full understand why seonghwa did this. you remember yunho explaining one time that seonghwa's race likes to mark their territory and biting your lovers was just apart of that. but you won't lie, it was hot knowing that he was marking you as his. just like how he did it to the others.

"s-seonghwa," you moan out, hand running though his bright pink hair as he laps at the bite mark. you notice how his hips begin to stutter just a little bit and you can't help but clench around his cock.

seonghwa lets out another grunt at how you clench around him and he does a particularly hard and deep thrust that makes your toes curl.

"f-fuck!" you moan out as seonghwa moves his head to look at you. his usual sharp eyes, now full of lust as he thrust into you. he adjust the two of you a little bit, but his pace is still ruthless and deep. you can't help but arch your back at how fast you felt your climax approaching.

your eyes drifted away from seonghwa and over to the window in his cabin. the vast darkness of space engulfing everything in sight. the twinkling of the stars, planets, galaxies around you remind you that despite getting fucked good right now, you are still just drifting through nothingness.

seonghwa grabs your face and turns you to look at him. his eyes staring down at you harshly as if silently telling you not to look away from him.

"don't look anywhere else," he says, "nothing else is making you feel this good, but me," he adds and you have to bite back a smile and laugh at his words. you sometimes forget how jealous and possessive seonghwa can get, but its moments like this that remind you.

"s-seonghwa! please~" you moan out when he does another deep thrust, hitting your sweet spot nicely and making you begin to see stars.

"who's making you feel this good?"

"you are!" you tell him, feeling your climax beginning to approach quicker and quicker. "please, hwa, i-i'm close!"

"yeah?" he says with a smirk as he continues to thrust into you. you moan and nod in agreement, not wanting him to stop. "gonna cum around my cock?"

"yes– yes, i am, please," you ramble, your hands coming and running down his back before running back up and through his hair. its now that you finally notice the thin layer of sweat covering him and giving his body a glow that makes him look godly.

"i'm still amazed b-by how good this pussy is," he says leaning his forehead against yours. "who knew a sneaky brat like you could entrance me this much?"

you couldn't help but laugh this time, "captain knew," you teased making the quartermaster groan as you also clenched around him.

"fucking brat," he says before he's thrusting one more time and that's when your orgasm washes over you in a sudden wave. you can't help but gasp at the feeling, clinging onto seonghwa like he was your lifeline as you felt him painting your walls with his cum.

the two of you remain close to each other, you clinging onto him for several more minutes before he's finally peeling away from you. the quartermaster rolls onto next to you before he's pulling you on top of him to rest. you flinch when you feel his fingers playing with your used pussy, slowly pushing his cum back into you so that it doesn't escape.

when the overstimulation finally hits, you can't help but push his hand away. seonghwa lets out a small huff, but obeys your silent request to stop. however, you know he'll try again once your climaxed bliss has worn off.

"so... another round?"

"shut up, you're starting to sound like wooyoung."

[foursaints]

would you be willing to spare some thoughts abt Evan and Barty’s animagi forms?? I love them they’re so precious your art made me literally giggle kick my feet at my real adult job 🫠

oh YES I CAN! my animagus headcanons have a lot of thought behind them put towards their symbolism & themes

this is just barty to me. he is a spotted hyena

raccoon!barty is pretty popular bc i think people want to see him as a scrappy & raggedy looking thing which i agree with. and on an aesthetic level a hyena has those visuals EXCEPT its maw is covered in old blood and it has that deranged laugh <3

the raccoon hc is like.... I fundamentally don't see barty as a scavenger. he is a Predator & a Carnivore. the spotted hyena is often mislabeled as a scavenger but it's not. its a Hunter that grows Desperate enough to tear at corpses. thats barty to me.

spotted hyenas are persistence predators. they are THE persistence predators. their hunting style is a long, grueling, sun-beaten pursuit chasing down their prey slooowly over the miles until their body gives out and the hyena snaps their neck. that is exactly how barty's revenge in goblet of fire plays out.

he is a dirty, ragged predator that suffers because he knows he is built to withstand it endlessly & his prey will eventually give out first. and he's dedicated. and vicious. and violent when unprovoked.

"When they are raised with a firm hand, [hyenas] may eventually become affectionate and as amenable as well-trained dogs"

evan is a two-headed viper. i don't have a species ive decided on yet but i want it to be venomous & egyptian like him

the two-headed bit is representative of his relationship with pandora (who is a two-headed mongoose. to me). they are far more entwined than regular twins & it shows in their souls

evan as a snake is important because i see him as The Ultimate Slytherin. in canon all we know of him is a competent death eater who took a bit back of the man who killed him. that vindictive "if you take me down, i'll take some of you" is THE slytherin thesis to me beyond just being cunning, ambitious, etc.

my evan isn't violent for no reason. he's measured and patient and poisonous and is the character least ruled by emotion. he's quiet. he flicks his little tongue out, tasting the air.

however, coming out two-headed represents an aberration of what should be a Perfect Snake & his attachment to his sister. evan rosier isnt actually the perfect snake because there is that sensitive core of him that loves her

snake venom is used in medicine and not just to kill; this ties into my larger headcanon of evan as a (dark, fucked up) healer

[satureja13]

Jack dragged Sai over to his and Kiyoshi's quarters to distract him from his misery - with some games. Skully: "Yes! Slay them into bloody pieces!" And he began to sing growl 'Swing of the Axe' by Power Trip... 'Go on and look at you - today's your lucky day The executioner's here And he's ready to make you pay

Swing of the axe, Swing of the axe Cry all you want, but the blade soars today Swing of the axe, Swing of the axe' "

Sai: "That's a bowling game, Skully..." Skully: "Then put some more effort in it!" Saiwa sighed. But everything is better than mulling over Jeb and their doomed sex life. Even hanging out with Skully. Where does he get those songs from anyway? ö.ö

And then Noxee called! Jack's eyes lit up. He loves Noxee since he first laid eyes on her. And he might have told her how much he's worried about Sai. Sai was so happy to see her. She surely would have some good tips for him. Noxee tamed Greg. She's the Queen of giving relationship advice.

Noxee looked at broken Sai: "Oh honey. That's not how I know you. I didn't raise you like that." Sai just wanted to start rambling about Jeb's revelation and how he's never going to lose his virginity, when Noxee interrupted. Noxee: "Babies. I'd love to chat with you but I have to take Greg to the hospital wing." Sai: "Gods! Did he get into a fight again? Is he severely hurt?" Noxee: "No, no he isn't. Just a physical inspection. A little strip search. A thorough body check. If you know what I mean? *She winked twice - and Greg, in the background, was just standing there, grinning stupidly in anticipation* And then some physiotherapy for this hardened muscle. A proper roleplay never hurt anyone ^^' Love you - bye!"

Well that was disappointing. As always... Sai grumbled: "Noxee didn't raise us at all." Jack: "Oh, I think she has. You don't have to be around someone for years to get an impact from them. And I think she did also gave us some valueable advice." Sai: "How so? She didn't say anything about me and Jeb." Jack: "Just you wait and see. She already showed us that a relationship can work, even under worst conditions, hm?" And Jack tugged Sai along - over to the Security Office, where the latest subscription box from 'Ye Olde Magick Shoppe' waited to be unboxed by curious creatures. Sai: "I don't think Noxee said anything about this?"

Jack: "You are just too deep in your despair to interpret it right. Noxee mentioned role play. And with what do you play with? With toys!" Sai: "I don't think Jeb will let me use them. He'll think they'd hurt me too..." Jack: "That's when her second advice falls in. The pysiotherapy. We've been practising yoga, meditation and tantra for so many months now, it's about time to yield the large crop! And get some profits from it." Sai: "Omg Jack! You and your wild brain. I don't think this was was Noxee had in mind." Jack, who hates Greg: "The only thing she has in mind is that mangily werewolf! We have to work with what we've got." Sai: "But how is that even supposed to help me getting woohooed by Jeb?" Jack: "That's easy. You are starting to play with those toys, some of them look exactly Jeb's size. And you also still have the wand from Kiyoshi. Just go slow and use lots of polish. Simultaneously, you start your one-on-one tantra practise with Jeb. Both of you should leave your ego - and everything else - behind and just focus on the moment - and your bliss. And after a few days - in the right moment - take the toy out and Jeb in - and it won't hurt a bit. And yes, you can thank me later, when you've seen the stars - all of them." And poor Sai is desperate enough to not chase Jack around the ship but to listen to his mad theories. Yes, things already have come this far.

And while Jack stuffs Sai's poor, suffering brain with his nonsense, Vlad and Ji Ho admire the new cargo bay. Jeb and Jack had turned it into a little green paradise for the Little Ones and for themselves. It will be nice and calming to hang out here. Since they aren't able to just walk around in the open air as long as they travel through space.

Ji Ho: "Let's pick our food and eat on the blanket?" Vlad, who'd promised Jack to be more approachable: "Eh - sure."

Jack told them just a few minutes ago he'd already set the table for them with their meals in the Crew Mess. But when they entered, their plates were empty. Someone ate their food. And it even looks like the plates had been licked clean. What the hell?

A little later, when Jeb and Kiyoshi finished their shift at the bridge, they built a - hopefully - secure container for the meteorites. The glow effects even intesified with time... They weren't able to measure any harmful radiants, so they just hope it's safe enough until they have time to research further. After they'd finished, it was upon Kiyoshi to distract poor Jeb from his misery. Well, Kiyoshi has decades of experience in not woohooing Jack...

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: starts ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 23-29

Outtakes

Meteorites going crazy

[lokidjarin-7567]

Day 11: Public

The Mandalorian x you

Contents: drabble, fem!reader x The Mandalorian, not as smutty as I wanted this chapter to be but still fun, public (duh), the mask stays on

W/C: 750

Not my fav, but I like writing possessive Mando so here :)

Kinktober Masterlist | General Masterlist | AO3

The hand on your thigh was slowly climbing higher. You glanced at the Mandalorian next you for any clue as to what he wanted to happen next, but he was unreadable. As per fucking usual.

You’d never truly been able to work out what your companion was feeling. Sometimes, when he was especially stressed or angry, his body language gave it away. And you had learnt to read his tone of voice more or less, knowing what intonation meant that he was pleased, or frustrated, or horny. Stars, the way he spoke when he wanted you… it put you in the mood instantly.

You’d been travelling with him for over a year and you still hadn’t completely gotten used the mask. That you couldn’t see what he looked like, couldn’t gauge his reactions or see his smile, couldn’t kiss him… It was frustrating sometimes, especially in the heat of the moment when all you wanted was his lips on yours, but you respected his beliefs. If this was what he had to do, then this is how it was.

Better to have some of him than all of anyone else.

He was a perfect fit - in more ways than just physical. His calm soothed your chaos, his careful nature lulled your reckless one, his strength complemented your kindness.

And now… his patience was showing. The way his gloved fingers inched up your leg so slowly, caressing your thigh with minuscule strokes that had you squirming in the booth at the back of the cantina where you had settled.

“How was your food?” He drawled in that low, sensual tone of his that sent a purr of heat straight to your core.

“It was really good.” You managed to mutter, hand still travelling upwards as you gently pushed your plate away from you on the table. It wasn’t until the waiter turned and started to move towards you that he sped up a little, the leather of his glove ghosted against your clothed core, and you stifled a moan as the sudden stimulation.

“Mando…” you hissed through grit teeth as the waiter got closer, but he ignored you, pressing a fraction harder and you bit your lip, blushing red as he finally reached the table.

“How was everything today?” He asked, smiling widely and grabbing your plate.

“It was lovely, thank you.” You managed to choke out relatively normally, as he continued to apply pressure on your sensitive bud.

“Wonderful, can I get you folks anything else?” You started to mutter that you were fine, wanting nothing more than to do back to the ship, and let him do what he does best, but Mando interrupted.

“One more glass of Spotchka, please.”

“Coming right up.”

As he left, you nudged him, frustrated, and he just pressed his thumb across your cunt in response, earning a soft moan that you couldn’t quite bite back in time.

“Stars, Mando, I thought you wanted to…”

“I do.” He muttered calmly, fingers actively circling your clit now, and you ground into them, trying to chase that feeling you knew damn well he was capable of giving you. “I just want to make you suffer here a little longer.” You huffed.

“That’s fucking cruel.” He chuckled, continuing his infuriating pace.

“I just want them to know who you belong to. The waiter that keeps flirting with you. The couple that keeps glancing over at that table nearby. They need to know you’re mine.” He practically growled the last part, and you nodded in agreement just as the waiter brought over your drink.

“Thank… you.” You stuttered, in a way you hoped wouldn’t give you away, coughing straight afterwards to try and disguise your stumble as a sore throat. You think it might it have worked, as he didn’t show any signs of awkwardness, but Mando seemed to disagree, a smile leaking into his tone.

“Good job sweetheart. Let them know you’re not available…”

“Yes, I’m all yours, baby…”

“Say it again.” He growled. You were pressed against the wall, Mando buried deep inside you, so desperate you didn’t even close the door to the ship.

“All… mhm fuck… yours.” His hand found your chin, gripping tight and holding your face level with his mask. You grinned, angling your hips up a little to give him even more purchase.

“Atta girl, that’s it… Let me remind you why you’re mine…”

[roanniom]

Feeling festive so: Steve being an absolute dork (and a little bit of a horndog) about mistletoe kisses 🫠 Steve making stupid jokes about “unwrapping his present” while reaching to take off your matching Christmas pjs that he pretends to hate 🫠 Steve and you being more than fashionably late to the holiday party because you just looked to good in your green velvet dress 🫠 I’m sad now

🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄

Stevie, Baby 🎶

Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, strip tease, dry humping, PIV / unprotected sex

“I won’t wear them,” he says definitively.

“But Steeeevie,” you whine, twirling around so he can see the garish green and red button down sleep shirt and matching pants that you were wearing from all angles. “Why not?!”

Steve frowns at the matching pjs in his hand.

“It’s just so…so…dorky,” he finishes weakly.

“So you think your girlfriend is dorky?” you ask, hands on your hips. Steve rolls his eyes.

“Right now? Yes. Yes, very much.”

You stare at him really hard for a minute, before the Christmas album that’s on in the background clicks to the next song and you get an idea.

“Santa, baby. Just slip a sable under the tree, for me,” you sing along to the music, swaying back and forth, emphasizing the swing of your hips. Steve’s eyes widen for a second before his brow furrows skeptically, arms crossing over his chest.

“Is this supposed to be less dorky?” he asks over your singing.

“Been an awful good girl,” you continue the lyric, unbuttoning the first few buttons on your pj top to reveal the bright red lace bra underneath, pushing your tits together just right.

Steve’s jaw drops on the floor.

“I’m sorry, what?” he breathes, hands unconsciously reaching out for you, but you step back out of his reach, climbing up to stand on the couch, your back to him .

“Santa, baby. So hurry down the chimney tonight.” You slide the pj top off your shoulders to hang in the crooks of your elbows, exposing the straps of your bra and your bare back beneath. You wink at him over your shoulder and are pleased to find him staring at you dumbfounded.

“Santa, baby. A ‘54 convertible, too, light blue.” You mime turning a steering wheel back and forth, swiveling back and forth at your hips. “I’ll wait up for you, dear.” You beckon him forward with a crook of your finger and Steve steps up to you, a slow smirk beginning to form as his facial expression makes it clear that you’ve gotten your point across. You hook your finger under his chin to force him to look away from your swaying tits and up at your face. “Santa, baby. So hurry down the chimney tonight.”

“Okay fine. So dorky isn’t the word I’d use to describe you,” he says begrudgingly as you step down from the couch and around him. You ignore his words and brush his hands off when he tries to grab at your waist. He huffs in frustration and follows you to the doorway of your shared bedroom.

“Think of all, the fun I missed,” you sing, draping yourself dramatically and sensually against the door frame. Steve joins you on the threshold and leans against the opposite side of the frame, folding his arms and humoring you with a long suffering smile.

“Think of all the fellas that I haven’t kissed.” You slink up to him and walk your fingers up from his chest to his lips. They part automatically and you feel him take in a sharp breath.

“Next year I could be just as good,” you sing, getting up on your tippy toes and pulling him down to you, bringing your lips close together. Just as he slides his eyes shut in expectation of the kiss, lips puckering just slightly, you pull away, leaving him leaning to chase you.

“Hey!” Steve pouts, watching you saunter to the bed.

“If you check off my Christmas list,” you giggle along to the lyrics. You hold your hands out to him and he takes them, letting you pull him over to stand in front of the bed.

“Santa, baby. I want a yacht and really that’s not a lot,” you shake your head teasingly, pushing him down on the mattress. Steve bounces and sits up straight to watch you.

“Jesus…” he mutters. But he can’t keep pretending to be annoyed when you stand in front of him, pulling the pj top fully off and moving it across your chest as if it were a feather boa in a cabaret show.

“Been an angel all year,” you sing, tossing the shirt to drape over Steve’s face. He pulls it off and can no longer suppress a grin.

“Not sure ‘Angel’ is what I’d call you but ok…”

“Santa, baby. So hurry down the chimney tonight,” you step between Steve’s legs where he sits up on the bed and run your hands through his fluffy hair.

“Alright fine I get the point,” Steve begins but you go right into the next verse.

“Santa, honey. One little thing I really need.” You grab the pj top from where it was laying on the bed beside him and put it behind his neck, holding onto it on both sides. “The deed to a platinum mine.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve mumbles, rolling his eyes. They widen, however, when you use the top to pull his face into your red lace-clad breasts.

“Santa, baby. So hurry down the chimney tonight,” you sing out, dropping down to straddle his lap.

You’re immediately met with the feeling of Steve’s obvious erection beneath you. You raise an eyebrow at him and he shrugs as if to say ‘what do you expect.’ You begin gyrating your hips, making him groan.

“Santa, cutie,” you coo along to the music. Steve’s hands grip your hips, wrinkling the fabric of the cheesy pj pants he’d criticized. “And fill my stocking with the duplex and checks.”

Steve wrenches you closer and mouths at your throat.

“I’ll fill your stocking alright,” he says against your skin. You squeal with a laugh, pushing at him to give you space to continue singing, bouncing in his lap with more fervor.

“Sign your x on the line,” you sing, breathless now. Steve groans as the friction becomes even better.

“C’mon baby…”

“Santa, cutie. And hurry down the chimney tonight.” You suck a mark into his neck, fingers gripping his hair, during the instrumental break between verses.

“Christ…” Steve breathes, bucking his hips up into yours.

“Come and trim my Christmas tree,” you sing, finding it harder to stay on tempo as you begin grinding faster, chasing the delicious feeling of rubbing your aching clothed clit against his erection. “With some decorations bought at Tiffany’s.”

“How long is this fucking song?!” Steve cries out, scooting back further up the bed and yanking you along with him. You laugh but keep singing.

“I really do believe in you.” You push Steve down so that his back presses against the mattress and crawl on top of him, grinding down.

“Fuck.”

“Let’s see if you believe in me.” You slide your hand down the length of his chest, abdomen, and then close it over the bulge in his sweatpants which presses between your thighs.

“Okay! Okay, fuck!” Steve cries out. His hands grip your waist with bruising strength. “I’ll wear the fucking pjs.”

“You will?” you ask brightly, missing the next verse for the first time since the song began. Steve looks up at with his tousled hair and flush-splotched skin.

“Can I fuck you first and then wear them at least?” he negotiates. You laugh and climb off of him, much to his dismay. “Wait wait wait. Or I can fuck you with them on, whatever you want! Christ.”

You slide the pj pants and your underwear down in one fluid motion before climbing back on top of Steve, maintaining eye contact as you work the waistband of his sweatpants down. Exposing his hard cock to the air and your hungry gaze.

“Oh Stevie…” you hum as you slide your wet cunt up and down the underside of his length. “You can wear the pjs afterwards.” After unhooking your bra and tossing it away, you lean down to bring your lips to his ear just as you snake a hand between you to line his tip up with your entrance. “But I’ll be the one fucking you, Stevie baby.”

🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄

[halfbakedideas]

a ‘toaster’

The Doctor gets bored. The microwave suffers for it.

—x—x—x—

Inspired by this post by @whatsfourteenupto .

when i said angst is coming soon, i didn’t mean next.

i really do not have as much free time as these frequency of these ficlets makes it seem i do.

—x—x—x—

Donna got home to find the Doctor sitting in the kitchen with the husk of what looked to have been the husk of their microwave strewn across the table in front of them. He seemed to be reworking it into…something.

“What are you doing?” she asked, because all of the potential options that she could think of didn’t make sense with using just the microwave.

“Wanted to see if I could convert the microwave into a toaster,” they told her, looking up.

Now that he mentioned it, the thing in front of them did look like a toaster. Sort of. It looked like a toaster if you turned one upside down and inverted it a bit.

“We already have a toaster—“ Donna nodded towards the one sitting in the corner.

“I know. I’m not doing this because we need a new one; I’m doing this because I wanted to see if I could,” he explained. “And because I got bored,” the Doctor added, after a moment.

Donna approached them and the thing on the bench, to get a better look at it.

“You got bored and decided to convert the microwave into a toaster, by memory, just to see if you could?” she summarised, resting her hands on her hips.

“Well, when you put it like that—“ At her Look, he reconsidered. “…Yes,”

Donna wasn’t sure if she should laugh or sigh right now. But that was a common problem you faced when being around the Doctor, she’d long since learnt.

“Are you going to be able to un-convert that back into just a microwave?”

“Maybe?”

“How did you even manage to make that from the microwave? It has to have more bits to it than were in the microwave,”

“I may or may not have also used the coffee machine…”

“You did not!”

If Rose got home from school an hour later to see her mum chasing her uncle through the house with the power cord of a kitchen appliance, well it wasn’t the oddest thing that she had come home to in the last couple of months.

(Both the toaster and the coffee machine were eventually put back to rights. Except for the latter now having a tendency to sprout little mechanical legs and run off if you tried to make less than two shots.)

[rockonfishboy]

All my rambling thoughts while watching TADC episode 3

Watched this episode with a friend when it came out and I have! Feelings!! So here’s my rough approximation of some of my thoughts on it while watching!

Spoilers ahead!

——— • Love the gang hanging out together

• “And Zooble turns straight!” JAX NO

• “What do YOU, the VIEWERS, think it is?” Mm. Don’t like that. • Every time “Today’s Adventure” plays I just grin like an idiot, I’m SO happy it’s in every episode

• Caine being desperate to create an adventure that Zooble will go on is a really interesting concept

• I miss Gummigoo ;^;

• OHH THE LIGHTING IN THIS EPISODE. THE VIBES!! THE HAUNTED MANSION!!! IMMACULATE. I cannot possibly gush about it enough.

• “I’m not really a fan of horror, and I don’t really handle jumpscares that well.” She’s just like me

• Ohhh the ghost is so cute 🥺 what a little guy-oh, whelp, goodbye

• RAGATHA’S HORRIFIED FACE IS SENDING ME

• Oh that’s nightmare fuel :D

• “You know, I’m starting to think…” oh. oh that’s-that’s the end of the sentence.

• “Well, this is some rather inconvenient lore placement” I love Kinger

• THE 2D EYES

• Them being fixated on the fly is so funny to me for no reason

• NEW SLEEP PARALYSIS DEMON JUST DROPPED

• “You look beautiful, honey”

• “UUUUUP!!” AHDAJGDA

• Zooble therapy time!

• Oh no,, sad therapy time

• Aw Zooble :( dang

• Caine is 100% listening to Zooble when they tell him to ‘just forget it’ and I don’t think they realize that. Poor Zooble

• OH GOD OH NO CAINE. He’s just as trapped as the rest of them

• “I ended up shooting the love of my life” Kinger’s face here worries me

• “Okay I won’t” the humour in this show is so good man

• HE DID NOT MISS

• Kinger protecting Pomni, I love them actually

• “w h a t” *WHEEEEEZE*

• THE GIRLS HAVING A TEA PARTY IS SO GOOD. I love Martha, she seems so chill

• Jax being tied up made me laugh really hard. Yes, good, keep it that way. He deserves it.

• Tbh Caine putting in a pacifist route is more than I expected him to do

• “How’s your wife, Kinger?” THE AGONIZED SCREECH I LET OUT, OUUUGHHH MY HEART-RUDE AND UNCALLED FOR, ACTUALLY

• “Seven years of computer science for this, huh?” OH????

• “He just wants me to suffer.” Hm,, I don’t think she’s talking about Caine there

• “How about we just relax for a bit while nothing’s chasing us?” Awww

• Pomni crying,, ouch :(

• OH BACKSTORY?? NO TEASE?? JUST RIGHT INTO THE PAIN????

• “She was funny, creative, really into entomology. I used to hate bugs, but she somehow got me to like them.” Cute established/married couples where one just gushes about the other usually makes me weak but this time it HURTS

• Oh god I love them so much and she’s not even HERE

• Their whole talk is sooooo good and heartbreaking. I love their father-daughter / grandfather-grandchild dynamic, it’s so well done.

• “I’m glad you’re here with me.” SOB

• “As long as you remember it, things will be okay.” PLEASE I CAN’T DO THIS

• Glowstick

• Pomni thanking Ragatha for always looking out for her and Ragatha looking so taken aback and grateful AUGGGHHH. YES. Ragatha deserves SO much love.

• “Did you remember to get my comedy mask?” “…F*$&!” AHDJAHDA

• “It wasn't that bad, actually.” AWWWW

My expectations for this episode were high but DANG. The team absolutely knocked this one out of the park. Definitely my favourite episode so far.

Kinger’s one of if not my favourite character and I’m SO happy he got so much focus. His and Pomni’s relationship and him comforting her is devastating and beautiful and I can’t even say anything about it without just devolving into

Anyways, I can’t wait to fanart about this episode like a normal, functioning person!

[evergruen]

Final thoughts on JJK's last chapter and Gojo's ending

Now that I've had the time to sit with my thoughts, and process the ending properly, my perspective has changed a little. If you disagree with this, that’s fine, these are just my thoughts after all.

I’m not going to delete my previous posts, as those are genuine reflections of my feelings at the time, and I’m not one to pretend.

Gojo's ending is bittersweet, painful, tragic. He's always been a tragic character. Made to carry the world's weight and sins on his shoulders, made to feel like all of it was his fault, a direct consequence of his existence. Left alone, understood by no one (but one), isolated, never really alone but still lonely. So much so that in the end he didn't even really feel like a real person. Seeing himself more as a creature than a human, a weapon, the strongest.

And yet, despite all the pain (or because of it), he tried his best to make sure no one else will ever have to be like him. That no one will ever have to carry the same burden as he had to.

And he succeeded, didn't he? His students won't have to go through what he went through. They aren't alone. He made sure of that. His dream became true in that sense. He died fighting, for the first time, against someone who was able to equal his power and beat him. He died without regrets and now gets to spend his afterlife with the person he's been chasing after (in one way or another) all his life, the afterlife symbolizing the time period in his life he was the happiest.

I have a lot of issues with Gege's writing. His habit to ignore meaningful character interactions for one, Megumi's wasted potential, Nobara, I could go on. I can disagree with the glossing-over of grief and lack of funerals in this story and also recognize it fits narratively. Believe it or not.

Gojo's story ending the way it did makes perfect sense narratively. Does it make me sad? Incredibly so. I want him to be happy (which he is, while still dead).

I know I said I felt like Gege's disrespected his character, and I’m now saying that I don’t feel this way anymore. I also don’t at all agree with anyone who says Gojo's talk with Yuuji was Gege projecting. Gojo saying "haven't we had enough of Gojo Satoru?" Isn't Gege trying to piss you off, that’s Gojo saying "Haven't we had enough of one person shouldering it all? Suffering underneath the weight of it all? Can I rest now?".

I also don’t think he went into that fight with Sukuna expecting or even planning to die. He's not stupid, he simply was aware of the fact that he could die. I don’t know why some people think him acknowledging that possibility somehow goes against his character.

Satoru was loved and he won't be forgotten. Despite how that fact suffers under the weight of Gege's execution and writing. I'll forever mourn the wasted opportunity to show us Megumi's grief specifically. Despite what tiktok wants you to believe, Gege doesn't hate Gojo. Please let's move on from that.

We spent chapters on Yuuta literally shaking and on the verge of throwing away all their plans because of his desperate desire to save his beloved sensei, Yuuta as the one to call everyone out on placing the burden of being a monster on Gojo's shoulders alone, willing to throw out his own humanity if it meant he'd get to lessen his sensei's burden just that tiny bit.

Am I sad? Hell yeah. Do I wish Gojo was alive and got to watch over his students? Fuck yes. Do I still think his death was meaningless (I said this before) and that he had to die unsatisfied? No.

In 236 (titled "go south" or something similar) his final thought is him literally begging for it all not to be a dream. Gojo clinging to the past and wanting to return to when he still felt like a person, happy, with his closest person right next to him, makes perfect sense. We see this as a tragedy. We see someone clinging to a past long gone, wishing to return to that and automatically associate it with stagnation.

But this isn't how Gojo sees it. To him, it’s going home, finding peace. Achieving what he wanted to achieve, knowing his students got it from here, knowing they won't have to suffer the same way, and going back to his happiness free of guilt. He's played his part. He did what he set out to do and now he's free.

What I wished for his character resolution and what Gege decided makes sense for his character don’t cross paths. But that doesn't make Gege's writing wrong. He simply decided that going south is ultimately what Gojo would want most. And if you've read the manga, you'd realize that fits.

I still wish he was alive, but I can see why Gege decided to not bring him back. He gave him his own version of a happy ending by letting him go back to what made him happiest.

Gojo literally has one of the (if not the) most satisfying character developments and stories in that entire manga. As a side character.

You did well, Gojo Satoru.

[kiddbegins]

Hiii!! Can I request chasexreader where reader is super sick and he takes care of her and is very attentive (maybe a tad bit annoying) but also very fluffy? Thank you!!💗

Overbearing - R. C.

Robert Chase x fem!reader warnings: sick reader, overbearing boyfriend chase, that's it really? word count: NDA (half wrote here) a/n: sorry it's short but I'm just starting to get back into writing these things <3

Being sick wasn’t ideal. It never will be. The second a doctor hands you that note and you’re out for the week it seems like a  blessing. A chance to relax. But no. not when your boyfriend was also a doctor and made it his god given goal in life to make sure you didn’t stress yourself out. At all.

Chase was that boyfriend. The second he realized the small cough wasn’t going away, he did the tests that concluded bronchitis. He set up the medicine to be put aside for you. The steroids and cough medicine that would work together to heal you.

He made you breakfast, lunch and dinner because “As much as you feel like crap, you have to keep eating.” The words he said every single time you tried to brush off eating. And so you suffered through at least half of a meal before he was satisfied with your portion.

Yes, it was partially endearing. He cared, he loved you. That much was true. You’d been together going on three years now, of course he was going to care. But still, it was becoming a bit much.

The man wouldn’t even let you out of bed if he thought it was going to end badly for you. “Baby, I promise you, I will survive sitting out of bed.” You pleaded, sucking on a cherry flavored cough drop that didn’t do much for your mouth other than make your teeth feel funny and maybe slightly keep your cough away.

Barely.

Chase shook his head, sitting on the edge of said bed, reaching over and stroking your hair. “I believe that, but laying down and relaxing, resting is the best thing for you. It doesn’t bother your throat and the lozenges can only do so much to help.”

You groaned, nodding, “I’m aware, but i just want to sit on the couch. Drink tea even. I’m just tired of sitting here." You pouted and how was he supposed to keep denying you anything when you looked at him the way you did?

"Okay, alright, just stop killing me with your stupid puppy dog eyes." He huffed in defeat as he stood. "I'll find some tea for you if you want to fresh up a little, I know you've been wanting to do that."

He was right. Your face was starting to get the level of greasy that it was killing you to even feel it and your hair hadn't been touched since day one. How he even wanted to be near you right now was insane to you.

But the second he disappeared, you pulled yourself up and out of bed, to the bathroom to wash your face, brush through your hair and make note to wash it before the two of you went to bed tonight.

You crunched the last little bit of the cough drop in your mouth, the feeling of your tongue making you pull your toothbrush out. It was time for a new one anyway so who cares if this one got contaminated?

Once all set, cough and all, you headed back out to the living room, happy to be able to sit and watch something on the big screen rather than the smaller one that you had in your room. (Chase refused to upgrade.)

"Gorgeous." Chase commented as you sat, water boiling just to the right in the kitchen.

Even at your worst he managed to want to compliment you and it made you shake your head. "I look like crap," A cough cut off your statement, "You don't have to lie.

He scoffed as he shook his head, "I'm not. You're always so completely beautiful."

"Bronchitis and all?" You asked skeptically.

"Bronchitis and all." He echoed with a nod, "Now get comfortable, I picked Lady and the Tramp cause I know it's one of your favorites." The words coming out so smoothly, so easily.

No matter how much time you spent together it still surprised you how well he just, knew you. And you adored it. So you settled down, him taking the spot next to you not too long after and putting an arm over your shoulder.

You went to brush it off, worried that he'd get sick in return but he shook his head. "You're not contagious. I'll be alright. Just let me hold you." He said softly, sweetly even.

And that alone let you know that no matter how much his doctoring annoyed you, you loved him and the day you married him would be the best day of your life.

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