#;behind the veil (anon response)

[risuola]

hi I hope you’ve been doing well <3 could you possibly write Gojo making female reader! cry during s^x and her using her safeword? basically the aftermath of that as well. tysm 🫶🫶

SAFE WORD — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

Satoru got back home angry and that got him carried away. contains heat, regret and aftercare.

cw: smut, rough sex, usage of safe word and aftercare, reader discretion is advised — 1k words

a/n: hiii anon! thank you, i’m fine! could I possibly write for gojo? yes. no matter what, the answer most likely is yes, soooo without further ado-

Fucking cowards. The higher ups, with that rotting bastard Gakuganji included. Always so mouthy while hiding behind matted veils, always forcing their authority over everything Gojo does, always expecting something that stands against everything he believes in. The hell did they even mean when they tried to order him to hunt down a kid that they think might be a threat. A kid?

“Satoru, slow down-“

And they really thought that he, Satoru Gojo, will jump into action to execute a teenager that probably have no idea what is even happening to him? The boy was at most sixteen. Those assholes, they really fucked up his mood.

You noticed Satoru wasn’t exactly in the right space of mind when he came back home, later than usual, smashing the doors behind him and throwing his jacket off carelessly. It had to be a bad day, you knew him well enough to recognize it and with some amount of certainty, you could tell he got caught up with the higher ups. They had an unparalleled ability to make Gojo loose his cool and you really hated seeing your love so upset, so when he grumbled a little hi against your neck, you took him to bed in hopes to relieve some of the tension.

But Satoru’s mind was somewhere else when he was pounding into you ruthlessly, unloading his frustration with his hips colliding with yours time after time, each one harder, stronger, harsher. His mouth wandered all over your neck and chest, leaving bruises and bite marks and you tried to slow him down by tugging at his hair, pushing at his abdomen and scratching his back, but with no effect.

“Shh, you can take it, sweets,” he mumbled an auto-response, picking up the pace even more and pressing your wrists onto the mattress above your head, somewhat annoyed at the way you tried to push him away. Satoru sometimes forgets how strong he really is, how easily he can overpower you with his looming presence but usually, you can take his rough side with pleasure. You really can, and you also like the harsh attitude he sometimes gives you, so contrasting to his usual playful nature, but now he seemed to forget that if he wishes to be the bad guy he really has to put in effort to prepare you for that. This time, as he got up home so worked up and so in his head, he skipped all of the foreplay, cutting straight to the chase and it might have been still fine if he went slower. But he didn’t.

“Satoru, please, it hu- ah-“ you tried to bring him back from his mind but all it did was to push his buttons more. And when he squeezed your wrists harshly, you felt like your bones might just snap underneath the sheer force of his grip. A tear that rolled down your cheek went unnoticed, as his face was buried in the crook of your neck, leaving purple his marks all over the delicate skin over your racing pulse.

“Pikachu!”

Gojo’s mind snapped to place in a split of a second. Every picture he had in front of his brain dissolved into nothing, as suddenly he became painfully aware of his current position. An endless chain of apologies spilled from his mouth as he pulled out and wrapped both of his arms around your middle, rolling onto his back and cuddling you to his chest.

“I’m so, so, so sorry, baby,” he cooed tenderly, kissing your wrists profusely, then kissing your neck, going over every spot he had left there, surprised to even see all of the bruises and teeth marks showing on your skin, because he didn’t even register when he made them. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t-“

“It’s alright, Satoru,” you muttered, feeling yourself relaxing finally in his warmth. “I’m alright, don’t apologize.”

“I made you cry, my baby, I’m sorry,” he said again, pulling the covers over your bodies and tucking you carefully.

“Satoru, love, I’m okay,” you reassured, pressing your lips to his chest, trying to calm him down. It wasn’t often that Satoru was in the state of panic and you could feel him sliding into one as he caressed you, afraid that he’s hurt you.

In Gojo’s mind, all what just happened was nearly equal to him straight up beating you and that, he couldn’t forgive himself. How could he get so carried away to hurt you? It didn’t make sense, you didn’t deserve it and so, afraid you’ll leave him, he tightened his hold on you, whispering more and more sorrys into your hair, and you listened, allowing him to spill it because if he didn’t, he probably wouldn’t sleep for a month.

“Oh, baby,” you cooed finally, shifting slightly and resting your chin on his sternum, “what happened today? Did you talk to the elders?”

By the way he closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, you could tell you hit the spot.

“Do you know what they ordered me to do?” he threw, smoothing his hand over your hair. “They wanted me to hunt down a teenager and kill him. A literal child.”

“Aaand, did you tell them to go fuck themselves?”

“Of course I did.”

“Good boy,” you praised, smiling softly and reaching up to cup his cheek. “So, we’re gonna need to find that kid and take care of him before they order someone else to kill him, huh?”

“I guess so,” he finally let his features soften enough to curve his lips up. The warm feeling of your palm against his face made all of his worries go away and he kissed your hand few times and your wrist also for good measure. “But I can’t believe they had the balls to ask me something like this knowing what I stand for. They even dared to argue with me, threatened to remove me, can you imagine?”

“Don’t worry baby,” you chuckled, moving up and hovering your mouth above his. “I’ll protect you from those old farts, you don’t need to be so tensed and afraid.”

“Ah, that’s a relief,” he lightened up, glancing at your lips with anticipation, but instead of kissing him, you rested your forehead against his, touching noses as your thumb softly brushed over his cheekbone. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[clarks-letterman]

Wally anon new request 2: This is pretty self-explanatory. A full expansion on the reader hearing/spotting Wally jerking off in the middle of the school. I imagine it'd be more than just using his hand(s), either being that he's found a toy in somebody's gym locker or has made a makeshift fuck toy (like taking one of the field equipment dummies, cutting a hole in it, & using lube he found in the nurse's office) that he's going to town on just to add to the reader's embarrassment/attraction to him.

dummy | wally clark x male!reader

a/n — yes, I know there's a plothole LMAO uhhhh because this isn't as serious as my other fics I kind of kept it in for the sillies.. (it's just ghost physics and all) + added wally railing us at the end causee he needs the relief

words — 3.3k

summary — check the ask!

warning — smut (anal, reader receiving), cheesy dialogue, joke fic first smut second

~~~

The pitter-patter of steps with varying intensities filled the open air, along with heaving breaths and an almost pack mentality as a whistle echoed out from the opposite side of the field. You thrust your legs forward, your feet slowly sticking more and more to the ground with each step as they got harder to lift up and keep kicking. They felt heavy and warm thanks to your heart pumping blood throughout your entire body, each thump, thump, thump ringing in your ears for you to heart amidst everything else. The shortness of your own breath was entailed with everyone else’s, your steps growing slow until you were discernible from the rest of the herd as you came to a slow down. The dissonance of second-period gym class, a sound you knew all too well. 

Being in the middle of this pack was like being at the core of the Earth, so you let yourself fall behind until you were sundered from fatigue. Your legs felt like they could explode with one wrong step. The eight-lane mob in front of you kept chugging, and you watched them move away from you and further down the track. You found yourself taking up two lanes of the track, both legs in a different lane. Your hands fell on your thighs, and you hunched over, feeling the gut-wrenching exasperation work its way into a stomach-twisting nightmare. A thin veil of sweat covered you in more places than one—your face, neck, the back of your shirt. It was like some giant middle finger to you from whatever fate had decided that you deserve such a demanding class this early in the morning. Although, it could be worse. It could be math, and you didn’t have that until after lunch. Bowing your head, you took a second to catch your breath and just enjoy the outdoors, which felt impossible thanks to your gym coach being the fittest yet unhealthy person you knew. Overweight, balding, and painfully short, all of the things that would keep you from playing basketball, or any sport, for that matter. These things wouldn’t bother you if he wasn’t singlehandedly responsible for your grade in this class and he didn’t hand out the participation points for cheap. No, you had to show that you were actively engaged.

Lifting your head, you prayed that he hadn’t spotted you like the way a predator spots a weak link in a group. He seemed to be watching the oncoming stampede, but your eyes drifted to something else. Off to the left of where the coach stood, on one end of the football field was a guy messing with one of the three tackle dummies attached and propped up by curved metal bars. He was too far in the distance to let your eyes register what he was doing, only that it made the three dummies shake with his movements. He towered over them, you could tell that at least, the dummies only covering up to his torso. You figured that he was just transporting them around for the football team’s afternoon practice. But, his attire seemed awfully out of place. The school dress code would never allow shorts that short—yours were down to your mid-thigh when running and almost reached your knee when you stood up straight—and a sleeveless sweat-tank was an odd choice for a day that seemed fitting for jackets. Of course, students could wear one during gym but you were working out. Whatever he was trying to do felt like a walk in the park.

Just as you were about to question it, you heard the dreaded whistle along with your name following the disruption in the air. Some could argue that the way he hollered your name was a disruption, too. The coach called you over, and you did a half-jog, half-walk over to him with a twinge of nervousness creeping into your expression when you closed the gap between him and you. He was quick to give a pop quiz with just one question written on it, “Why did you stop running laps?”

“Well, why doesn’t he have to do it?” You asked the coach in a loud voice, pointing over to the guy. He was wearing gym attire, albeit a little out of style for the decade.

Your coach turned to look in the direction you gave him. “Who?”

“That guy over there,” You said, ready to walk over or give him a clearer insight as to who you were talking about. But, there was no one there, nothing rocking the football dummies back and forth like the man had been doing. You told him defeatedly, “The one by the… blocking guys…” 

He still wasn’t visible from where you were, yet you knew he was there. You knew it. The coach didn’t buy it for one second, though. “Kid, you sound like you need to go to the nurse.”

“What? She’s just gonna give me ice. That’s her solution for everything.” Crossing your arms, you mentally made a refusal of his suggestion. You weren’t about to just say no to a strict teacher, or any teacher at all, but he insisted.

“Tell her to put it in a cup of water, you’re dehydrated.”

The walk to the nurse was painful. You passed the navy blue training dummies on your way over and found no trace of him, which only made the walk until you got into the building even more embarrassing. Each step taken to get to the nurse’s office felt like pure fire rubbing against your joints and inflaming your leg muscles. 

It took a minute for her to get to you since she was helping a kid who got his hand stuck in a stage prop during a theater rehearsal and needed to get it off as soon as possible. Apparently, she lost the lube she kept for emergencies like this, and resorted to breaking the prop to set him free. The main reason it took so long was that it took a week to sculpt and decorate the “cornerstone of the play,” the theater kid called it. At least the time spent dealing with that allowed you to sit back and regain some of the energy you had just spent the past half an hour in class losing. When the nurse finally could see you, she gave you some water and ice to cool you down, since you were obviously having some level of delirium from overexerting yourself. She offered some Tylenol to help with a possible headache but said to tell the coach that you had to sit out for the rest of class. For embarrassing as it was, you would do anything to be safe from the scrutiny of performing your best for one out of five classes this week.

However, she must have not been paying close attention to the time, because your walk back soaked up the rest of class and no one was there by the time you got to the track. No one that you knew, at least. Once you stepped on the track, standing right about where you were when you saw him initially, he was back on the football dummies. He hadn’t moved them an inch yet they were still teetering from whatever force he was pile-driving into them. You figured that the best thing to do would be to ask if he was okay since he must have been scared of other people. It was the only logical explanation coming to fruition in your head.

Crossing the field, your legs felt heavy. You were slow with your approach, “Uh, dude, are you okay?”

You couldn’t tell if using dude or sir would be too relaxed or too informal, so you went with the safer bet because he seems to be around your age. His hair seems to be slicked back and cut short, looking reminiscent of the same decade that his attire was from. That’s what sparked the dilemma in your mind about his age. Was he younger—older? You couldn’t tell. The gym shorts you had identified from a distance were pulled down, exposing the top part of his ass crack and lower back, and clearly wrapped around and dipped in the front as they angled down on his sides, folding in on itself. 

The noises clued you in as to what he was doing. Wet, sloppy plaps fill the air as the football dummy makes almost no noise yet the sound of him smacking against it does. Specifically, his hips rocked back and forth as he gave himself distance, then pressed his body back into the dummy. Getting a better look from the side, he seemed to be fucking it about halfway up from where the navy blue leather encasing started. A hole was cut in the middle of the dummy—right between the two sixes printed on its chest. You got a better view of how long he was, and how far he had to reel himself back before slamming into the dummy.

You reached out and grabbed one of his arms holding the helmet-like shape forming the top of the dummy, “Dude, I was talking to you.”

Wally looked like he had seen a ghost. He jumped back and his cock sprung free from the poor dummy he had been using as a fucktoy. It was wet with a thick layer of lube and red from the agitation of the foam inside and stood up perfectly, the erection never softening as you talked with him. “What the hell? I’ve seen you before.”

“Well, I haven’t and you’re, uh, doing that.” You were heavy on your emphasis. “I talked about you pretty loudly and you didn’t hear me.”

“I guess it’s kind of easy to ignore people when they’re usually never talking about you. I was more than a little occupied.” He could say that again. Even if you couldn’t make out his motions, he was plowing these things so hard it would make the football team tackling them look like a sign of affection. 

“Right… am I interrupting?” 

“Nope, I got all the time in the world,” he said happily, placing his hands on his hips. His dick was still proudly standing and you were both confused and intrigued that he had yet to attempt to hide it in his little shorts.

“Aren’t you worried that people will see this happening?” You had to remind yourself of the fact that both you and your coach couldn’t see him. There was some kind of chicanery going on and it was impossible to just let it go, “You went into hiding earlier when I saw you do it, so what’s different now?”

“Oh,” he held the word for a few seconds, “I wasn’t hiding, I’ve been at this all morning. And I’d like to continue if you want to watch?”

You were almost too astonished to say no. Almost. But the word “no” never left your lips, you just kind of gave a partially verbal agreement and took a step back, letting him get back to doing his thing. He approached the dummy, jutting out his hips and using it as a way to let his cock stick out even farther. With one hand on the dummy’s head and another on his shaft, he pushed his way back into the slit he carved out. “So—haah—what’s your name?”

You reluctantly gave it out, and he nodded like he knew your face and name. The free hand he was using to guide his cock in was now reaching out to you, offering a handshake as he introduced himself. “Wally Clark.”

“Wait, like, the guy who died back in eighty-three?” You asked him with sudden intrigue, losing focus on his rhythmic thrusting. 

He moaned out, “That’s me.”

“Holy shit, I must be going crazy. I pass by your picture in the trophy case every day.” The mental image flooded your brain. You had spent just a little too long staring at it on some days when all efforts in finding love felt hopeless, and you wished you could just Frankenstein the stunning guy in the photo back to life. Little did you know, he had also spent a fair amount of time sitting in classes you were in, watching you from afar, and learning your name through roll call. He had spent himself dry with about a million dirty thoughts about you, because what else did he have to do? No one smuggled in porn for a distraction because it had all gone digital. Maybe it was that sense of wanting between the both of you that opened something up between worlds, some kind of connection neither of you had seen before.

“Hey, woah. You’re not going crazy, but I am definitely making you red in the face.” 

“Could you stop doing that?” You asked, watching him lose himself even more to the pleasure he found from fucking dense foam that doubled as a great substitute for the real thing. He would even argue that it was just as good.

“Why? It’s not like anyone will see. Unless you’re worried about getting spotted.”

“No, it’s just weird to have a conversation like this.” You had literally been talking with a ghost who was putting himself out there in ways you could never imagine doing without getting some kind of cease-and-desist letter. Of course, it was going to be weird, and even as you ventured into the realm of understanding—and the paranormal realm—you walked back so many times because he felt unreal. An ephemeral image in your mind, it had to be that. You almost expected him to disappear any moment now, to wake up from this dream in the nurse’s office just when things were getting good. Were the plastic waiting chairs really that comfy? Or were you that tired that you happened to find solace in the slightest bit of comfort?

Either way, his next actions proved to you that this wasn’t a dream. “I was gonna take turns on all three, but I can add you to the lineup?” He offered, “There’s a lot less talking involved.”

“If you want, coach.” You agreed, and in seconds, he let the dummy free from his hold. He slid his cock out—still, never going down or finding satisfaction.

“I do.” He bent down to pick up the bottle of lube lying between the metal bars that supported the three dummies. You hadn’t noticed it before, but then again, this wasn’t your reality to mess with—it was his. And, for the moment, you were crossing over into it to get fucked by a ghost.

“Lean against that one,” he pointed to the dummy on the right, yet to be graced by his cock. “He’s not worn out from me… not yet, at least.”

You did as he said, spreading your legs as if it was instinctual to do so. Just as he had left the dummy on your left, he came up behind you with the same speed. “I always knew you would listen to me…”

Wally’s hands made quick work with your shorts, pulling the elastic strings in opposite directions to undo the knot and shimmied them down until the waistband stretched around your thighs. The cheap fabric the school used to make them felt scratchy, but his hands were smooth against your ass. You could feel one or two callouses subtly forming at the ends of his fingertips from being mid-game during his death, but it only added to the sensation. You knew exactly where he was while he discovered a world of new territory to claim. He gave it a quick smack, letting you feel confident that this wasn’t a dream. On Wally’s end, he saw the red handprint quickly leave the surface of your skin because he couldn’t do much to you in his current apparitional state.

He didn’t care, though. The inability to leave any mark on you didn’t change the fact that he would be forever ingrained in your head after this. How he filled you up—how his fingers were slowly creeping to your hole in a way that only he could ever call his own—all of that is his. The next sensation to rock your world was his fingers slipping in, cold, even without the lube at the tips of his fingers. He was stretching you with no help, just the ends of his fingers. After he felt you on the inside, feeling the warmth that he knew made you human, alive, he started drizzling the lube like it was his the final topping needed to complete his favorite meal. To make sure that every bite of this meal was perfect, he slid his fingers in and out of you until he thought that it was time to dig in.

His cock, hungry for a hole that wasn’t made from inanimate objects, was raised to meet your hole. The resonating noise of a hollow bottle filled the air as he tapped out the last of the lube onto his cock, having wasted some earlier with his fist and now the dummies that came before you. Then there was a soft squelching heard as he spread it over his thick length, making sure to keep a majority of it near the top for a slicker, smoother entrance. 

Wally did as he had done with the dummies, lining himself up with precision and spearheading through your tight hole. He let out a loud moan that you would have worried about if anyone else could have heard it, it was that loud. He was even louder when he bottomed out, claiming that he “almost came” in a fleeting moment of desperation. Then, his lean frame and tall figure proved to be a force to be reckoned with once he started moving. 

Thankfully, these things are meant to withstand two-hundred and fifty-pound meatheads charging at them, so they wouldn’t give to this, no matter how hard Wally fucked you. The front of his hips smacked against you, making the thudding noise from hitting against the leather of the dummies sound like nothing compared to the skin-on-skin clapping. Wally only worked up his thrusts, never losing his speed once he started fucking faster than your damn heartbeat.

Eventually, you needed release, but Wally’s colder, bigger hands intervened by taking yours into his, “Don’t touch yourself, too much of a mess, dude.”

You wanted to respond, to say that you’ll do whatever he wants, even depriving yourself of relief. But you couldn’t; the words didn’t form and you could barely keep your general composure against the dummy. You had gone cockdumb, unable to speak with how delirious he made you with his massive dick. You felt exhausted as if you had run a million laps, which you did on the regular in Wally’s head. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, even now that you were in the palm of his hand. In his neediness, he came, spraying himself inside you and watching it leak down the inches he hadn’t packed inside you. He pulled out and watched it disappear seconds after, but his desires felt at bay for once.

The pain and confusion quickly wore off and you were back to your good old wits, shaking your head to try and re-orient yourself with the world. It was like he had knocked you off balance, pounding into you so hard that he made you go cross-eyed. Wally finally tucked himself away and pulled up his shorts, coming to your side to help you stand. “You good?”

In combination with running for as long as you did and getting fucked, you could barely stand. All of that pain felt real. “I don’t think I can walk.”

[sorcerous-caress]

I literally love these responses so much……may I request some fluff/angst?

maybe it could be something like what each of the companions are like when they’re sad/when they cry. And what they would act like around tav. Particularly minthy shart or Karlach cuz they’re my favs but anyone else you want too

I love love love angst

How they act when they're sad

[ Bg3, Angst, nb!reader ]

[I went the full angst route, hope you like it anon]

Minthara

Sadness doesn't last long in her. It always gets transformed into anger, rage, bitterness, or contempt. Sadness is wielded like a sword, sharpened edges, and a leathery grip.

She is aware of what she's doing, of what she's fueling.

It's what helped her survive, what made her as strong-willed as she is. She saw her sisters fall to their agony, their sadness consuming their minds as Lolth giggled at the chaos their madness invited.

She swore not to fall, never to let it consume her. Survival is above all.

If you entrust her with your sadness, she will acknowledge the amount of vulnerability you've willingly showed her. She will remember it and feel greatly touched by your deep trust in her.

But all she can offer to quell your misery is the venom to poison your enemies with, to steer your hands towards the responsible necks and stand behind your back as your finger digs into their flesh, choking all those who wronged you.

Shadowheart

She was taught to indulge in her sadness, to stretch it and bury herself inside it. To let it fester and grow.

Taught that only Shar herself can calm that storm, only by darkness can you veil the wounds this cruel world left on you.

To forget is to be free, and true freedom is to become a child of the night.

She prays, whenever there's a burning in her throat, she kneels and prays to the cruel yet loving goddess, the only mother she has known.

Her faith is enough, she repeats, her faith will guide her, her faith will comfort her.

Her faith is all she has, it has to be enough. She can't afford it not being enough.

Answered or not, her prayers ease her mind in a way, make her feel less of a monster.

She can teach you, if you ever feel the need to confess and be cleansed of all these sour emotions swirling inside, she can teach and guide you.

Karlach

She hugs her teddybear. Cradling the small soft plush into her chest, against her metallic heart and squeezing.

Despite her size, she felt the smallest she had ever been. The world was too big, too harsh and too cruel. Full of betrayals and mistrust, full of disdain for her and for everything she has been forced to do.

Her tail wraps around her as she curls around herself on her bed, it gets too much at times. She wants to scream, yell at how unfair this is, how her own heart was stolen from her, the heart her own mother gave her. They took it.

She's still a person, no matter how much of a murdering tool they tried to make her, no matter how many parts they replaced and how many battles they threw her in. She is still a person goddammit, and she deserves to be treated like a person.

Even her tears cease to exist for more than mere seconds before they evaporate from the heat of her skin. Evidence of her sadness erased from the world, she doesn't even get to cry in peace, can she?

She craddles the teddybear closer, closing her eyes and surrendering to the world for just a second.

Whenever you're down, she lends her teddybear to you, it smells just like her. She can't hug you herself so this is the most she can offer, she is truly sorry soldier.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Sunshine on Sakaar - Part 1

Prologue Anon's 1K Celebration

You sigh to yourself, sitting in the same crowd of people that you do everyday, watching as they chatter amongst themselves, betting on the lives of the warriors in the arena.

"Someone's come through the portal," another person chimes in, their voice brimming with excitement.

You rest your chin in your hand, always feeling the tinge of guilt at another unwilling participant for the Contest of Champions. They never lasted long.

You don't get a chance to try to commit the next unfortunate person's face to memory before you're called back to your duty.

"Oh, Sunny!"

You bite back your sigh of irritation and plaster on your widest grin. "Yes?"

"Do that trick for us again." It's a thinly veiled order behind a giant smile and a condescending laugh. You have no choice but to obey, while they clap, laugh, and taunt you.

You can hear the vague outline of the Grandmaster's normal speech to those entering Sakaar. You've heard it time and time again. Most were doomed to fight in the Grandmaster's twisted contest. You were considered one of the lucky ones.

You always hoped that every person would be 'lucky'. Luck had a strange definition in a place like this. In a place like this, anything was better than a death for the vain entertainment of others. At least you were alive for the vain entertainment of others.

You hear the familiar speech wind down, you're all about to find out the fate of Sakaar's newest arrival when you finally hear the voice of the new arrival, a voice far too familiar.

The flame in your hand suddenly extinguishes as your head snaps up, "Loki?"

His gaze snaps toward the sound of your voice. He sighs deeply, still tightly strapped to his chair, "This day just keeps getting better."

"You two know each other?" the Grandmaster asks, amusement lighting up his face.

"He tried to kill my friends once."

The Grandmaster raises his executing staff at him, "So he's no good?"

"No, no!" you quickly backtrack. And though there's a part of you that seriously questions why you're helping him after everything he'd done, you know you couldn't live with yourself if you didn't at least try to save him. "He's my friend's brother. He's, well... he's Loki."

"Loki..." the Grandmaster hums. "Sunny, can he fight?"

"No!" you quickly reply, much to Loki's distaste.

Loki scoffs, "I beg your pardon."

"He can't fight, Grandmaster. Not at all. It's kind of sad."

"I-" Loki tries to interject.

You steamroll over his words, laying your words thick for the two of them. You gently nudge Loki's restrained shoulder, "He's a total wimp, but he's a delight though. Really! Almost as funny as I am!"

"Hmm..." the Grandmaster audibly thinks. "Alright, you've made a compelling case. He can stay, but, Sunny, you're responsible for him."

"You won't regret this," you call after him, biting back a cringe. You whisper to yourself as you look back towards Loki, "But I might."

You take your time undoing each of Loki's restraints, and as you reach for the final one that unbinds his hands, he hisses in your ear, "You know that I could kill you without so much as wave of my hand?" 

"Do you know that I just saved your life?" you whisper back. "Now, behave until we get you away from the Grandmaster. He's known to change his mind."

He rubs at his wrists, standing up from his seat, "I was being my charming self, I had no doubt that I could manage."

You sarcastically snort, walking out of the viewing room and back to your room, "I'm sure you could."

Loki's footsteps trail behind you. "I don't like your tone."

"I'm sure you could," you brightly singsong.

"What are you doing here?" he demands, stopping in front of you. 

"Like right now? Or just in general?"

"Both."

"Oh, well, in general, I'm... actually I don't know what I'm doing here. I mostly just sit here and say something every once in a while. Sometimes, the Grandmaster, he’s the guy in charge, he makes me do tricks for him. And right now... I was just watching you slip in through that portal over there."

Loki's head tilts slightly as he does his best to tamp down his impatience with a heavy sigh, "What I meant was, how did you get here?"

"Now, that is a very long story. It started when we were in Sokovia back on Earth, and let me tell you, things were not going well. Like not at all. So we were only there because -"

"Stop," Loki interjects, shaking his head. He dismissively waves his hand, "Stop. No, no, I am not nearly interested enough to listen to this."

"Well, alright," you shrug, turning on your heels to walk away.

Loki grabs your elbow, spinning you back around, "I am, however, very interested in your acquaintance with the Grandmaster."

"Okay..."

"Could you help me?"

Your mouth twists slightly, "I dunno... I don't think that's a good idea."

“Why not?”

“Because you’ve tried to kill my friends before?” you reply like it should be obvious to him. 

Loki scoffs at you, “Aren’t you also friends with my oaf of a brother? The friend of your friend is also your friend.”

Your eyebrows furrow at him, “I’m no expert but I don’t think that’s how that saying goes.”

“I’m certain it is.”

“And, no offense, but Thor doesn’t exactly have the nicest things to say about you," you admit. "He told me a story about a snake or something.”

"He greatly embellishes."

“So you didn’t disguise yourself as a snake because Thor likes snakes, all so you could bite him?”

“He slightly embellishes,” Loki corrects.

“You don’t even like me.”

"If Thor has accurately depicted your character, you could look beyond my history to help a soul in need."

You cross your arms over your chest, quirking an eyebrow at him, “So you want me to help you out of pity?”

“I would like you to help me of your own accord, but seeing as that it unlikely, yes, I’ll take your greatest sympathies.”

You chortle, “I don't think you could win my greatest sympathies.”

“You think your life more tragic than mine?” Loki asks, his voice thick with offense. 

You call over your shoulder, “I don’t like to compare myself to others.”

He grabs your shoulder, spinning you back towards him, “But you do, don’t you?”

“I don’t think, I know.”

"My long lost sister tried to kill me!" Loki starts.

"My friend unknowingly kidnapped me and doomed me to a life on an unknown planet," you counter. "I don't even know how long I've been stuck here."

"My mother is dead."

"I never knew my parents."

"My father lied about my true lineage and rejected me for his golden child," he retorts.

"My parents left me abandoned, on the street for dead. After a whole day of knowing me. Only one day old."

"You win," he begrudgingly admits. 

"Nice!" You clench your fist in victory. "Wait, does that mean we both have sad, traumatizing lives?"

Loki frowns, "I suppose it does."

Your mouths twists in discomfort, "Maybe we shouldn't think about it too much?"

Loki quickly nods, agreeing with you, "Let's not."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Anon's 1K Celebration

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez@ludicbouquetfromearth@matchat3a@famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff@valoraxx@blue786sworld@buckyandgeraltsupremacy@geminigengar@ansaturn@ecolle@lexhalstead3@ybflkmj@mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112@thegirlnextdoorssister@toomanyfanficsbruh@moonlightreader649@breathtaking-cynthia@mirikusashes@beans-and-toast@niyahcoca@katiechikin@elxvrr@antiheroxsblog@infamouslyclumsy@krissydclayton93@buckysbarne@deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic@whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @buckybarnessimpp @withyoutilltheendoftheline

[dumbdemonslayertexts]

Your Hair: Revealed (anon request)

Pairing: ambiguous AF x black!fem reader

Warnings: 18+, violence, mentions of maiming, murder, and blood

these meetings were irksome. moreover, their complete lack of announcement was something you would normally kill over. but you were sure to wipe any such notion from your head. you were an uppermoon, but your life still was not guaranteed if your thoughts were an irritant to Muzan.

and as you slid open the empty room's shoji, looking around the endless maze of the castle you'd been teleported to, you sighed to yourself. you hadn't had an opportunity to wrap your tresses-- no longer as manageable as they were in your human form. the blood demon art you were gifted had transformed your thick coils into what could only be called an abyss of a thundercloud. it still defied gravity as it flowed behind you, cascading and flowing with physics separate from this world, but now it gave off a perfumed and iridescent plume in its wake. one that constantly floated around your hair's mass and length, and one that it left to hypnotize any mortal that was caught in its scent. you'd lost count of just how many humans gladly allowed you to feed off of them freely, while they nuzzled and caressed, and buried their faces into the sweet plush that was your hair. they begged and pleaded for the opportunity, even. you would have liked to bind it and not have your crown on display so openly to the other ranks. they hardly would show the reverence owed to your beauty.

still, even with your hair in this intimate state: down and billowing behind you, floating and trailing you like the veil of an empress among gods, you carried yourself as you rightfully should. your skin shimmered as though the moon itself worshipped you. your eyes fixed straight ahead, and you paid no mind to hantengu's incessant cowering... you also ignored the rattling you knew to be gyokko's idiotic vases.

"oh! Yonaka-dono~!" your lids shut, and you rolled your eyes behind them at the voice you heard swooning your name. of course, when they opened again, douma was before you with his hands as petals at either side of his face... like some fawning school child. "I've never seen you with your hair loose! ohhh~!"

"urusai."

his fawning came to a stop - as did his reaching hands - at akaza's demand, and you both watched as he passed you. his eyes met yours only briefly, and his scowl only deepened as you lifted a brow at him. douma sighed and sulked away with his fun spoiled, only barely restraining himself from asking you to sit beside him.

you would have declined.

as you did sit, you were met with the sight of purple robing, and then, before you could process that much, six menacing eyes before yours.

"you.. are far too casual."

his voice was more intimidating than usual. you could hear the serpent in his spirit. and your lips quirked. "you wished to be the first to see me in this state? or the only..?"

your jaw was crushed in his grip in the next moment, and you were lifted easily into the air, face to face with the highest rank, but you laughed again. especially seeing the murderous glare akaza bore into kokushibo's head, and hearing the wailing in protest coming from douma.

"i was summoned just as abruptly as you, lord kokushibo, if you are so scandalized... your complaint isn't with me."

he grumbled deeply in response, and released you in the next moment, disappearing to some other corner outsight of your concern.

as your bones healed, you straightened yourself up, dabbing at the blood that had seeped from the corner of your mouth. you made sure to lock gazes with a still snarling akaza as you licked your finger clean... and when he looked away, dropping to a knee and driving his fist into the floor strongly enough for it to crack, you grinned, awaiting Muzan's arrival.

[catt-leya]

Smutty May 08.05.

First Choice (18+) || Rick Grimes

A sweet Anon had a very specific request and I did my best to make it all happen 💓

At one point, however, I had a little problem with how the consent thing works and modified the request a bit to make it all consensual 👀

Summary: Rick is going through a tough time in the prison and you offer to always be there for him. You actually mean the conversation, but he understands something completely different.

Trigger: Little confusion about consent, semi-public sex (?), age gap (OF AGE), dirty talk and as always the smutty stuff

I gently rock Rick's little daughter back and forth in my arms and follow the corridor that leads out to the prison yard.

For days the weather has been incredibly beautiful and I try to take Judith out onto the lawn as often as I can.

Because I'm Hershel's youngest daughter, I don't often get asked to go out for a run, but I'm not sad about it at all, because I can take care of Rick's daughter that way.

The little girl lost her mother some time ago and has only her brother and father left.

My thoughts slip back to the handsome ex-cop when I spot him at the fence in front of the Walkers.

As if casually, I walk in his direction and pretend I'm just taking the little girl for a walk, although I'd like to see the much older man up close.

I've had a bit of a crush on Rick since he showed up at the farm with his group, but he still had a wife at the time.

The marriage was practically over by then, but there still remained the glaring age difference that I've come to terms with and can actually completely suppress my ridiculous feelings for him.

The only one who knows about how I look at Rick sometimes is my big sister Maggie's boyfriend.

Glenn noticed it when we had the plague in the prison and I had a weak moment or two and looked at Rick in a specific way.

Since then, things have slowly gone uphill in terms of living with everyone together, but still, something irreversible has changed in Rick. He has become colder and tougher than he used to be and you can see it in every kill he brutalizes through the fence.

I let Judith play with my hair and stand as close as I can to the fence behind Rick as I ask, "Do you need help?"

He winces violently, then turns to me. At first his veiled gaze falls on his little daughter before he looks me in the face and shakes his head: "It's okay."

That ends the conversation for him and he turns back to the Walkers. He is engrossed in his work and it doesn't seem to bother him one bit that I am just staring at him.

I silently follow every muscle that shows under his sweaty shirt and then close my eyes with a sigh. If he won't talk to me, then I can't help him.

I spend the rest of the day outside with the little one and only notice in the corner of my eye how Rick marches past us, drenched in blood, and disappears into the prison block.

Slowly the sun sets and it is time for Judith to go to bed. Gently, I lift her off the grass and murmur, "Well, are you getting tired?"

I get a yawn in response and carry the little one in with a grin.

I take my time and nod contentedly as she lies in her crib next to Rick's bed.

I have no idea where her father still hangs out, but I'm sure he should be there soon and then I won't be needed in the cell either.

So, I take a step back and my eyes fall on Judith's father sitting on the floor next to his cell. His eyes are lazily fixed on me and I squeak out in surprise, "Oh, what are you doing?"

Quietly, he clears his throat, "I didn't want to disturb you, so I waited until you were done."

I don't take my eyes off him and nod slowly. My first reflex is to go to my own cell, but after my first step I stop.

I know that everyone has an incredible amount of respect for Rick and his dominant character, and because of that, they tend not to ask how he's doing. After all, the strong and controlling Rick can never be unwell.

But he doesn't look like that, sitting there on the floor and not even making an effort to move into his cell.

So, I make a decision and drop down on the floor next to him. Immediately he looks back at me and I have to swallow hard as his blue eyes are so close to me.

I know I need to focus on other things, so I look down at his hands resting in his lap and the ring he still wears after Lori's death and the demise of his marriage.

I tighten my legs and arrange myself into a cross-legged position as I ask him quietly, "What's wrong? And please don't tell me now that everything is fine, because I can see that something is very wrong."

There is an oppressive silence for a short while and I look him in the face again.

Patiently, I wait for his answer, which can be a really long time coming, before he sighs, "You're right. After all we've been through, I wonder..."

He breaks off and averts his eyes, staring at the wall as he continues, "I wonder if I could have done anything differently. Whether I should have listened better. Tried harder. Maybe then not so many of us would have died. Maybe things would have turned out differently."

Without giving it much thought, I lean forward and reach for his hand, feeling the cool metal from the ring on my fingers.

Immediately he jerks his head around and looks at our hands as I say in a firm voice, "That's exactly the point, Rick. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe more people would have died, or maybe not. Who really knows for sure? The only thing that matters is that you try. That we all try and fight."

Gently, I slide my fingers between his and add softly, "You're a good man, Rick, and you're doing what you think is right. But you're not alone, either. We-"

I clear my throat, "I'm here for you if you need anything." Lightly, I squeeze his hand, then whisper, "Anything."

He lifts his chin and looks me in the eye.

His features have changed and it's only then that I realize how I worded it earlier.

I hope he didn't completely misunderstand, but the way he looks at me feels like he's seeing me for the first time.

As if he had never perceived me before the way he does now.

As if he is only now seeing that I have become a woman despite the immense age difference.

I can't help my cheeks turning red and I don't correct my statement.

A few moments pass before I realize that I still have my hand intertwined with his and swallow hard as I take it from him.

That seems to be the moment he regains consciousness and blinks several times before coughing softly, "I should go check on Judith."

Absently, I nod and watch him sit up and reach his hand out again to help me up.

But I pretend I didn't see it and ignore his help as I sigh and stand up, nodding slightly to him, "Good night, Rick."

Faster than perhaps I should, I disappear into my cell and can't breathe properly until I feel the cool lattice of my bed under my fingertips.

***

A few days pass in which I barely exchange a word with Rick, but I catch him staring at me far too intensely again and again.

I try not to think too much of it, and it's not until days later that I muster all my courage and walk up to him as he's working in the small field with our crops.

It seems as if he senses my presence and turns to me even before I can brace my arms on the fence.

Goosebumps cover my arms as his gaze glides over my body before he looks me in the eye and finally speaks to me properly after days, "You look beautiful."

My mouth drops open in surprise and I can't get it closed either for a few moments.

I expected a lot of things, but not that he would give me this kind of compliment.

There's a strange silence before Rick leans his butt against the fence next to me and looks down at me from above, "I've been thinking about what you talked to me about in front of my cell."

Slightly lowering his eyes to my still slightly open mouth, he murmurs, "More often than maybe I should."

Finally regaining my composure, I straighten up a bit to at least somewhat compensate for our size difference and try not to sound too confused, "I'm glad. I'm sure I'm not necessarily your first choice, but I'll try my best."

I feel like everything I say sounds totally ambiguous coming out of my mouth and I don't dare look him in the eye.

Actually, I can only hope that he is so focused on my words with which I offer to always talk to me, that he doesn't notice my physical reaction to his closeness and smell.

Rick is standing so close to me that I'm aware of his every breath when he suddenly runs his hand along my forearm and whispers, "Who said you weren't my first choice? Don't sell yourself short."

Immediately I look him in the blue eyes, which look at me slightly veiled and I do not get enough air in the lungs.

Does he mean his words ambiguously now? Or is my brain just way too horny for him that I take in everything he says sexually?

I pray that I look somewhat graceful as I pull myself up onto the fence and sit next to him. All the while, there's a strange tension between us that I can't gauge.

But because I somehow don't expect a man like Rick to be interested in a woman like me, I try to focus on the conversation and not on the topics my mind would like to deal with.

So, I ignore the fact of how rough and excited my voice sounds when I say, "You've got quite a few here to choose from."

Now he's the one who turns around and rests his muscular forearms on the fence, pressing his arm against my thigh and partly against my butt.

He's bent over so far that I'm now the one looking down at him, staring in fascination at the curls on the back of his neck.

When he notices, he ignores it and instead mumbles, "You know, I actually didn't really consider this with you because I thought you weren't interested in me at all. But really, you're all I've ever thought about."

Confused, I frown and shake my head vigorously, "Of course I'm interested."

I skillfully block out his last sentence, which I'm sure he didn't mean the way my traitorous brain wants me to think, and sigh softly, "I meant exactly what I said, and if you want you can come by my cell tonight."

His eyes flash before he nods slowly and sits up, "I have to go out with Daryl again later and then I'll come see you."

The fact that he really wants to talk to me that fast makes me blink several times and then I slide off the fence.

Silently we look at each other before I clear my throat, "I'll see you later then."

***

Several hours later, I sit jittery on my bed, wincing at every sound in anticipation of Rick coming to my cell.

He did say he would come, but maybe he changed his mind?

Frustrated that I'm so upset just because he wants to talk to me, I drop backwards onto my bed.

The cool fabric from the bedding is comfortable on my heated skin, exposed to the warm air through my short shorts.

Sighing, I close my eyes and decide to wait a little longer for Rick.

Unfortunately, he takes so long that I fall asleep in my cell on the bed.

Normally I'm not a person who has the most interesting dreams, but in my doze, I imagine that Rick has come into my cell after all, and his warm, heavy body is pressed against my small one.

I dream that he first hesitantly places his lips on my neck, and as I softly sigh his name, he gently licks over my racing pulse.

I have never felt like I do in this dream and I lift my hands to place them in his dark curls.

But when I actually get a few strands between my fingers and hear him moaning softly, I'm wide awake.

I didn't dream it.

It's merciless reality.

Instead of pulling my hands out of his hair, I lie there paralyzed, unable to believe that Rick is actually lying between my legs right now, trying to give me a hickey on my collarbone.

Unwillingly, a whimper slips across my lips before I gasp, "Rick?"

Somehow, he seems to take the whole situation the wrong way, and slowly I realize that he also took my offer to talk quite differently than I actually meant it.

My unhappy way of expressing myself must have turned him on and he whispers against my heated skin, "I'm sorry baby it took me so long. I couldn't decide if I should come or not...Fuck you're such a good girl for doing this to me. You have no idea how much this means to me.'

Weakly my head falls onto the pillow behind me and I know I should stop him because it's just not right, but it feels so right.

God, I can even feel how much I'm turning him on as he moves a little between my legs and presses his hips against my embarrassingly dripping wet middle.

My heart threatens to jump out of my chest as he slides a hand under my shirt and his callused hand touches my soft belly.

My fingers grip tighter into his curls, eliciting another low moan from him and that sound is exactly what brings me back to reality and I squint my eyes because I can't believe myself saying, "What are you doing, Rick?"

Fluttering, I open my eyes and still don't stop him as he pushes down further and very gently kisses my thighs, his slightly longer beard, scraping across my sensitive skin.

Looking up at me cockily, he smiles slightly, "What do you think it looks like?"

His warm hands reach for my legs and he certainly pushes them further apart, I must be doing the stupidest thing in the world and sit up jerkily and mumble, "That I totally misspoke a few days ago and also earlier."

I see the exact moment when he realizes what I just said.

As if he had been burned, he lets go of me and sits up himself with a jerk.

His beautiful eyes are huge and he stammers, yes Rick Grimes stammers, "I'm so sorry...I thought...Fuck...I don't know what I was thinking...I should have asked you directly and not jumped all over you like some horny dick...Fuck, I'm sorry..."

He makes a move to get up from my bed, but I quickly grab his arm and immediately he looks at my small hand clutching his arm.

I take a deep breath, "You didn't understand me the way I meant it at the beginning, but I might as well repeat it: I didn't think I was your first choice...that's why-"

He quickly undercuts me and clenches his hand into a fist, "You don't have to say anything. I completely misread the situation and I'm sorry for pushing you like that. When you said that out by the fence, I kind of thought you meant that you didn't think I'd take you up on that..." Embarrassed, it points to the big bulge showing in his pants and then continues, "…way and the truth is I was ashamed of wanting a woman who could be my daughter and yet I couldn't help thinking about you all the time."

I bite my lower lip and look down at his crotch, "Now may I please make excuses?"

Still clutching his arm, he mumbles a 'sure' as I whisper hoarsely, "I didn't think I'd have been your first choice to talk to and that's why I didn't even hope to be your first choice to make out with, let alone move on."

His arm, which had been totally tense the whole time, goes limp and he gasps in disbelief, "What?"

I gather all my courage and scramble toward him. His arms hang next to his body and I push myself onto his lap.

He does not resist, but also does nothing to touch me in turn. The moment I push myself onto his hard cock, he bites down hard on his lower lip to show no other emotion and I rest my forearms on his broad shoulders.

I'm not the most experienced at this, but as I slowly grind myself against him, I'm sure he likes it.

I lean forward teasingly and I notice him trembling as I breathe a shy kiss behind his ear and whisper softly, "I want you to touch me. I want you to finish what you started earlier. You can't even imagine how wet I am for you already."

I can guess he's still totally confused by the about-face, so I tilt my head and pause just short of his slightly parted lips, "I want you to fuck me. I want to be claimed by you." And then I press my lips hard against his.

For a second, he doesn't respond, but then he's a changed man. He's like he was when he was between my legs.

Although I have been the one to initiate the kiss, he is the one to take it over.

I don't even get to react in any way as he pushes me backwards again to force me onto my back and I groan louder than I intended as the jerky movement pushes his cock into just the right place and he tries to speak in a controlled manner but all that slips out is a gasp, "You like that?"

Unable to form even one word other than his name, I nod and he thrusts his cock against me again.

But when I start to moan again, he quickly presses his hand over my mouth and muffles my sound, then strains to whisper, "You have to be quiet, or do you want everyone to hear how I can make you moan?"

The question is only rhetorical and I already realize that, but the way he's talking to me and the thought of how everyone on the block can hear Rick fucking me turns me on beyond belief and I unintentionally arch up to meet him and gasp into his hand.

Suddenly he pauses and I look at him languidly from under my lashes as he tries to suppress a grin and asks curiously, "It really turns you on that the others can hear us, doesn't it?"

When I say nothing, he presses back against me and purrs, "I can make your fantasy come true. You just have to tell me."

This is the moment my head completely fails me and I whimper against his hand, "Yes, please, Rick."

Still not taking his hand from my mouth, he whispers, "Speak it out, Baby."

Only now does he let me speak freely and I place my hands on the back of his neck as I gasp, "I want you to fuck me so everyone can hear how good you're doing me."

He slips out a simple 'fuck' before reconnecting his lips with mine in.

Without beating around the bush, he slides his hand under my shirt and just pulls the cup down from my bra to touch my breast with his big hand.

It's all happening so fast, like he can't wait to sink himself into me and I certainly have no problem with it.

Gently he pulls on my nipple and I cry out softly.

Having Rick on top of me feels so good.

So right and I pull maybe too hard on his curls as he gently bites my neck, but he doesn't seem to mind.

On the contrary, it only turns him on more and he gives a muffled moan against my neck, "Have you ever slept with a man?"

Because I'm so young, I guess the question is more than justified, but I did sleep with my best friend once in high school, so I nod, "Yeah, once."

Slowly, he leans on my elbow and looks down at me: "Then I'll show you how to do it right. Turn over onto your stomach and your butt up."

With a lump in my throat, I do as he asks and with his help, lift my butt up so that I'm practically presenting myself to him.

My voice breaks a little as I mumble, "Do you want me to lean on my hands?"

I don't even wait for his answer and go to straighten up a bit, but his hand settles heavily between my shoulder blades and pushes me down on the bed with my chest.

Softly, he growls, "No, stay down."

My breath escapes my lungs completely as he reaches around me and pulls my jeans off my hips.

Suddenly, I'm embarrassingly aware of the underwear I put on this morning.

Maggie has a habit of always bringing me some cute panties when she's on a run and today I opted for a pair that are baby blue with a little teddy keying on my butt.

It's quiet for a second and I just know Rick is looking at my ass and sees the teddy.

How was I supposed to know I was going to get fucked and really I shouldn't be so uncomfortable because it's just underwear, but I suddenly don't feel grown up enough to sleep with a man like Rick and regret not putting on plain black underwear.

That's when Rick puts a big hand on my butt and squeezes lightly, "Fuck, that's cute."

Surprised, I flinch and whisper, "I...it's..."

But he interrupts me by gently tugging on the band of my panties and harshly saying, "You're just perfect."

Sighing, I lean into his touch and slowly realize that all these little things are what he likes about me.

The hair pulling or my girly underwear. They're all things that he likes and that I do out of reflex and habit.

My breath catches as he grabs the waistband on both sides and slowly slides it over my upturned bottom.

Slowly he exposes my most intimate part and I just wiggle back and forth to encourage him to pull my panties to my knees faster, which elicits a hoarse laugh from him, "So impatient?"

I just whimper a soft 'please' and almost lose control of my knees when I feel his breath on my ass.

I quickly try to look over my shoulder at him, but it's too dim in the cell and I just can't shift that far, so I settle for the feel of the mattress moving as he slides a little lower and gently kisses my thighs.

Impatiently, I push myself towards him and moan loudly as his tongue slides up and he kisses me gently on my little bundle of nerves between my legs. I never knew it could feel so good to be in bed with a man.

Rick's tongue slowly slides over my middle and I moan into the pillow in front of me.

I stop thinking about what I'm doing and try to push my knees further apart to give him more access, but the stupid pants won't allow it and I cry miserably, "Rick, undress me."

I feel his breath on me as he laughs softly and then murmurs sensually, "It's actually quite nice like this."

And before I can react his tongue slides inside me and I would have lost my footing if he hadn't held me by my thighs.

My former boyfriend has had his face between my legs a few times, but he couldn't begin to do what Rick is doing to me right now.

I can barely stand the fact that my stupid pants are stuck to my knees and I can't give him any more access. Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to mind and I just press myself harder against him.

My whole body is trembling with desire and I can hardly think of anything else but wanting his hard cock inside me more than anything else.

I totally don't care who hears me as I moan loudly, "I want you to fuck me."

I get a low growl in response and then he lets go of me to spin me around with his strong arms. As our eyes meet, he murmurs, "By your command."

Gently he helps me out of my rolled-up pants and I stare at him as he stands up and completely undresses in front of me.

We're both aware that I'm staring unabashedly at him, but I just can't take my eyes off his torso and especially off his cock, which is hard and big and waiting for me.

Rick opens his mouth to say something, but I'm far too fascinated reaching for his cock, which is so close to my hand I and he visibly flinches, gasping softly, "Oh fuck."

Still in bed, I move my hand gently up and down and he braces himself against the top bunk bed, cursing, so that his knuckles stand out white.

Rick is warm and heavy in my hand and reflexively I open my legs to where his eyes immediately move and he closes his eyes moaning, "I don't know how I've lasted this long not fucking you. God, I don't even know how I lasted just looking at you, even though I immediately got a boner."

A soft whimper escapes me at his words and apparently that makes it too much for him and he grabs my wrist to pull my hand away from him and push himself a little awkwardly between my legs.

Somehow, it's funny that I still have my top on and he makes no move to take it off.

But the moment I want to ask him if I can take my shirt off, Rick grabs the hem and wordlessly I help him first pull the shirt over my head and then drop my bra to the floor of the cell.

Immediately, he lowers his mouth to my breasts and without any digression I reach hard into his dark curls and press him even closer to me.

Groaning, he allows it and gently rubs against my thigh.

I can't hold back anymore and gasp, "Please stop with the foreplay. Just take me."

His voice is muffled against my chest as he moans, "Fuck." And I feel his cock twitch because of my words.

He lifts his head just a few inches and I'm already pulling him up to me, kissing him hungrily on the mouth as he positions himself between my legs and gasps against my lips, "Ready?"

Softly I murmur a 'yes' against his lips and that's all it takes for him to enter me in one fluid motion.

It's been a long time since I've had sex and accordingly it feels unusual to be filled by him in this way.

It seems to totally fuck him up too and his whole body quivers as I move under him, eliciting a growl from him, "Fuck, you're so incredibly tight."

My chest tightens to bursting point and I claw my way into his shoulder blades as his chest slowly lowers onto mine until there isn't a sheet of paper that fits between us and I feel his weight comfortably on top of me.

His lips travel down my jaw to my neck and I whimper, "You can...God please do something."

He doesn't need to be asked twice about that and slides out of me enough that I don't think I have him inside me anymore before he gently pushes his hips forward again.

He's barely done anything and yet my center is already pulsing around him and he tenses above me and thrusts, "Wait." Out.

I try to let myself fall and gasp weakly, "I can't last much longer."

I'm still totally wet and horny from his tongue that was previously in my pussy and to feel him now warm and heavy up in my belly is too much for me.

I really try and bite his shoulder hard as he keeps pushing into me and whispers, "That's good. Hold it back nice and easy, Sweetie."

Except, unfortunately, his intent is completely the opposite and I can't even give him a heads up before my insides tighten up and I'm pulsing around his cock and he just keeps fucking me.

I slip out a drawn groan, "I'm sorry." and look into his face contorted with arousal so close to me that I can see the bright spots in his blue eyes.

Hectically, he shakes his head and growls, "You're so perfect, like you wanted me that way, you came right away. That's how I like you."

I roll my eyes and wrap my legs around his waist so he can take me deeper and sure enough, that only seems to please him more and his thrusts become more erratic and messier.

Gently, I run my hand over his collarbone and murmur, "I've always wanted you, Rick."

Unexpectedly, he flinches and I too am surprised that my words have actually made him come.

His chest rises and falls way too fast and I carefully slide closer to the wall so he can roll next to me, even though the bed is actually way too narrow for two people.

My eyes are closed, but I can feel his gaze on me. I notice him staring at me and I clear my throat quietly before looking at him again, "Was that..." Briefly, I bite my lower lip and then whisper, "a one-time thing for you?"

His blue eyes are fixed piercingly on me and his hand absently plays with one of my nipples as he whispers, "No, it wasn't, unless you want it to be a one-time thing."

Of course, I want more from Rick and place my hand, on his beard covered cheek before murmuring, "I want more from you too, Rick. A lot more."

And in his eyes, I see the life again that he lost so long ago, as he leans in and kisses me softly on my swollen lips.

@positive-squid @hail-yourselves @mrsxreeves

[vibratingskull]

"Can you write Thrawn telling his children about his childhood ? And catching up with them as he returned back home ?" -anon

You're tidying up your big, empty bed when you hear the doorbell rings. 

"Qiagusa can you go see who it is ?" You demand your son, too occupied at the moment. 

You look at your double bed, wondering when was the last time two persons sleeped in it together. A decade, easily, since Thrawn's departure. You let out a discouraged sigh. You mourned him for years, and sometimes you wonder if you did well to never remarry and not giving à father figure to your kids. 

"MUM!" Your son calls. 

You come running down the stair, almost breaking your neck in the process, ready for anything to be thrown at you. 

Anything. 

Except that. 

When you arrive your daughter is also here, they both look at you with apprehension. A third person is at the door. Another Chiss with silver hair on the temples, a stern expression on his face he ports himself haughtily, the back straight despite his age and an air of control emanates from him. 

Despite his age, you know. It's him.

Your eyes lock and you see his sparkling despite him remaining cold. You dare not pass the door to join him, afraid to break the spell and that this apparition disappears. 

"I am home."

_______________

Without hinting at fatigue he continues to walk on the sinuous trail that spread over the Mountain, both of the young adults behind him. They follow him with clear unenthusiasm in their demeanor but follow nonetheless.

It’s been more than a decade but he still remembers the way to the secret place, he turns back to see them both keeping behind with some difficulties.

“Nrequi’agu’sairte, Nreqi'beam'esdora. Do not fall behind.” He only gets grumbles in response.

“Can we take a break?” Qibeames ask, almost stumbling on a root.

“No. A Chiss must prove to be physically capable.” He simply shaked his head. “Besides, we are almost here.”

They both sigh, shuffling along and following reluctantly. They had plans for today and following Thrawn in the deep cavernous mountains wasn’t one of them. They escalate hills and slopes, cross rivers and chasms. Finally, after several hours, they arrive at a cliff with a splendid point of view on the valley under it. Thrawn puts down his backpack and takes the time to appreciate the view. Behind him, they drop theirs on the ground and drop down on the floor, their lifestyle didn’t prepare them for such a hike.

Thrawn breath deep, grounding him in the moment.

“We used to come here regularly with your mother.”

“We know.” Qiagusa sighs “Mom already took us here before.”

“She did?”

“Yeah.” Qibeames takes a large gulp of water from her flask “And she already spilled the whole story. Sorry to break your fantasy of being a good dad, but you’re a bit late for that.”

Thrawn doesn’t take note of the insult, thinly veiled, walks up to them and sits down with them. They consciously or subconsciously retract their legs to prevent him from getting too close. 

“What did she tell you?”

“She spoke about you, if that’s what you’re asking. She bored us about how great of a man you were and how she never believed you were exiled. No matter how the fact contradicted her!” Qiagusa goes on.

“Qiagusa…”

“That’s Nrequi’agu’sairte to you.” He claps back

Thrawn remains silent, looking at the twins, detailing the appearance of the now young adults that once were babies he could hold in his hands long ago. 

Long, long ago.

“I used to have a sister when I was young.” The twins snarl but remain silent. “I loved her dearly. But she soon went away, called by the Ascendancy to protect her people. Then it was my turn, I left my blood family behind to become a Mitth and protect my people to the best of my ability.” 

He stares off in the distance with a sigh as memories overflow him.

“I met your mother and I became the most blessed man alive. She graced me with both of you and my work became even more important for I had now three treasures to protect more than anything else.” 

They keep silent, the animosity slowly quitting their eyes, leaving place to a prudent distance.

“Then the Ascendancy called for me to step in. It called for me to take action to protect what I hold dear. I had to leave you behind to fulfill my mission, and it tore me apart. But I knew it was the right choice. I knew you would be in good hands with your mother, so I left reassured and with certainty I would come back.”

He looks at them both.

“For you.” They don’t dare look him in the eyes. “Even if it took me more time than what I first anticipated, I am glad I am finally back to see the adult you have become. I know I do not have the right to call you my children for now, too much years have been robbed from us and I was not here for you. But I want you to know that you never left my mind and I am delighted to see you again...”

He smile faintly.

“Even as a simple stranger.”

Qiagusa and Qibeames look at each other, a bit embarrassed, before taking the floor.

“You abandoned us.” She gulps.”Despite everything, mum told us to never resent you, that you only did your best every time. She told us the night before your depart you hold on to our hands in our sleep. That you never wanted to leave us behind, but you did for us.”

Thrawn slowly nods as he listens to her. Finally, Qiagusa speaks.

“It will take time… But I’m sure… Someday you’ll be able to use our core names…”

He silently reach for their hands, after an hesitation they take his and he squeezes them.

Father, son, daughter. Finally reunited.

@Bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar

@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess

[prototypelq]

DMC Questions Anon here!

The ending of DMC 5 leaves the door very open for new character dynamics to be formed. Which is exactly what this question is about.

(Keep in mind that if you don't want to or don't think you can you do not need to cover all of these dynamics)

(Also, I do not mean any of these dynamics as a group just for clarification)

How do you believe Dante and Vergil will move forward with their relationship after DMC 5? What about Vergil and Nero? How about Dante and Nero?

Vergil is going to end up needing to form a dynamic with all of the characters after he and Dante return from hell. The characters he will inevitably end up interacting with on a normal basis will be: Lady, Trish, Kyrie, Nico, Patty, and Morrison. How do you believe his relationship with all of these characters will turn out? How will they start off, and how will they develop?

Dante has a dynamic with most of this cast, but what do you think his dynamics with Kyrie and Nico will end up being like?

What dynamics do you believe Nero will have with Lady, Trish, Patty, and Morrison?

How do you think the dynamics Trish will have with Kyrie and Nico will play out?

The dynamic Lady will have with Kyrie?

The dynamics Kyrie will have with Patty and Morrison?

How do you think the dynamics Nico will have with Patty and Morrison will play out?

What dynamics (other than anything involving a member of the Sparda family with another member) are you most interested in seeing playing out?

(I have another question planned to do at some point asking you to talk about dynamics not included here)

Quite a loaded question, my favourite DMC anon! Your asks are lovely as always, and I`ll try to answer these to the best of my ability

(all of the relationships mentioned here are written as platonic, and incest shippers are Real-Impacted on sight)

the longest and easiest to answer: the sparda loser twins

I strongly believe that what the twins truly needed all these years to start healing was each other, and the yearning for their brotherly reconnection is the reason their relationship is mendable (unlike trigun twins, but that`s just my opinion). Both of them became extremely closed off after the attack, and their personalities were forged in literal hellfire, hence, their absolutely horrible, no good, very bad coping mechanisms - their childhood knowledge of each other is the solution to this trauma. Dante can see right through the Vergil`s pretentious and arrogant behavior to know his brother is hurting, and Vergil can relearn to see that the attention-attracting behavior and general clowning of Dante`s is a veil to hide behind, and they can call each other out on this bullshit to talk like actual adults. Which might happen after some brotherly stabbing (because their only response to pain has been violence for the majority of their lives and that’s not a healthy habit but I don`t think they will grow out of it any time soon), but they both want their bond to be real again, and that will require honesty. I have no idea how long mending of their brotherhood will take, but am sure they will make it work in time, and will finally start healing

(I do hope they also take the stabbing out of their fighting, because even if demonic pain tolerance is high it is still physical pain and that is not a thing you want to invoke on a relative you have a good strong relationship with), which will also positively affect all of their relationships with other characters (*cough cough* like dante helping vergil through his newfound fatherly feelings towards nero, and vergil getting dante right back with his secretive but very fond father figure-ly bond with patty *cough cough*)

Vergil must apologise for breaking the Rebellion. While the twins have equal score in killing each other (Dante>Nelo, Urizen>Dante (yes, I believe Urizen actually killed Dante as it would be thematically appropriate since 5 parallels 3 so much)), but Nero restored Yamato, while Rebellion was sort-of reforged by Dante himself. Still, Vergil did break Dante`s beloved sword which must have hurt Dante (for some reason the fandom glosses over it, like, yeah he made a DSD for himself which is very cool and all, still, it is not the familiar Rebellion and it is a loss, even if it is bittersweet)

Vergil is #1 person on the (short) list of characters Dante is physically affectionate with (both to tease and for funsies; I live for the 'Dante coaxes a piggyback ride out of Vergil' fanart, fics, everthing and everything that has this trope; also the twins sleep better when theyre close or together; Vergil relearns positive touch through Dante's affections)

Vergil&Nero

If Vergil and Dante are two halves of a one stupid loser whole, then Vergil and Nero are two identical idiots. They struggle with their feelings and need time to understand them, while at the same time being hotheads with little patience, which is quite an explosive combination to form a relationship around. Luckily, they have help! Nero has learned to lean on Kyrie in time of emotional need, and Vergil… will need time to learn to express himself, if not more openly, then at least without as much pretense as he has now (and he has Dante to yell at him when Vergil starts making stupid decisions yet again), and both will certainly need their ‘straight men’ to help out at times. I believe the Heaven in Hell`s Despair series of fics, by the amazing EirianErisdar on ao3, covers their struggles and triumphs of creating a father-son bond wonderfully.

Dante&Nero

Dante and Nero`s relationship is a more treacherous case. Dante and Vergil damaged each other a lot through the years, but they had the same goal – to reunite and stand together as brothers again. Nero and Vergil have had a very rocky start, but both clearly want to bond and they have a new relationship to figure out.

However, in this instance, Dante has actually had a sort of secret relationship with Nero as his uncle, which was built on a lot of things unsaid, and it ultimately betrayed Nero`s trust, even if Dante was trying to act in his best intentions (actually no, Dante just could not face any more Vergil ghosts than he already had, so he hid away from the problem and Nero as he usually does). Paired with Nero`s temper, this makes mending the relationship with his uncle probably an even harder task than forging a new one with Vergil. The way I see out of this is two scenarios: - Dante figures himself out enough to come clean to Nero about why he hid everything from his nephew (…as much as I`d love that, unlikely, Dante is a very old dog with his trickster trick at this point, even if he will improve after fixing his bond with Vergil, old wounds are very painful to pick on) - OR… Vergil tells Nero of his troubled history with his twin, and with some help from Vergil or Kyrie Nero comes to understand Dante`s actions and forgives his sorry uncle. I do believe Nero needs someone (Vergil or Kyrie) to actually slap him in the face with a detailed explanation of how to see through Dante`s clowning, because Nero`s temper wouldn`t let him otherwise. After that, I think they are very cool, and Dante would make an excellent uncle (noogies all around, Nero can protest all he wants, he`s not getting out of them) They certainly share some of their taste in music, and are secretely jealous of the others revvy sword/demonic motorcycle. Nero is, obviously, another person on the list of people Dante is physically affectionate towards.

Vergil & Lady or Trish

This is harder for me to figure out, mostly because the main character trait of the women in DMC is giggle physics. My guess is that Vergil and Lady will be neutral-hostile to each other, Lady seems to me like a character that will hold her grudges for an entire lifetime, or they will be completely neutral to each other, and I don`t think either of them would be interested in improving their relationship.

If not for her encounter with V, Vergil would be hostile towards Trish, but she treated a part of him well in the past, and that juuuust might be enough for him to be neutral towards her. Their actual history is shrouded in mystery and as it's unknown how much she was involved in Nelo Angelo's mind-washing so that`s very much up to interpretation. I really like all the headcanons about Trish trying to be an older sister to twins, but personally can`t see that happening, still, those headcanons are very nice.

Kyrie

Vergil would be very much unnerved by Kyrie – she has a sort of motherly care for people around her, which would trigger all of Vergil`s mommy issues combined, so he would be very tense with her at first. There is an amazing fic This Emptiness is so Real by Night_Companion on ao3, which has my favorite portrayal of Kyrie out of all the fics I`ve read – the author wrote her like a woman grown up in a religious- and military-heavy culture, with a steel spine just like her brother, who has seen how much trauma the veterans go through, and has learned to be a calming presence in their lives. It is her active choice and decision to try to help traumatized individuals, she has self-taught herself these skills and uses them to her advantage. This gives her an edge to be uniquely equipped to see through the twins horrible coping mechanisms, which actually scares the hell out of them both, because both haven`t known honesty since the fire. Kyrie might have a hard time forgiving Vergil for what he did to Nero, but that doesn`t mean she won't try to comfort him (as she always does for those who need it), and in time, she will forgive him (probably shell do it later than Nero himself does). After that, they will get along wonderfully, maybe they'll share a quiet evening with tea together.

Kyrie will have this quiet menacing aura around Dante, until he explains why he never told Nero they were family, she would totally be pissed about that, but with her skills she will see Dante has been through a lot and that decision was heavy for him to bear too, and she`ll forgive him (faster than Nero though, as she is more understanding towards his situation). Later they will get along great. Dante considers her to be his niece, and she is one (of a very short list) of people he is physically affectionate around (hugs as greetings for sure, maybe he`ll whisk her to dance around if there`s a good song on a radio (while Nero is aggressively shy, jealous and getting over himself in the corner nearby)). Help me remember fic by Okutama on ao3 has had a great scene in the final chapter (not a major spoiler, don`t worry) where Nero asked Dante to lead Kyrie down the aisle on their wedding and I say y e s to this headcanon aggressively. She might also get some firearms training from Dante (imagine Kyrie with a rifle). Also, let Kyrie swear, she needs it with these idiots.

Vergil&Nico

Nico would tease Vergil a lot, and just as with Nero. It might be weird for Vergil at first, but seeing as he is living with Dante now, he would accept the teasing surprisingly quickly and well. I don`t think Nico holds any grudges against Vergil after he verbally apologizes to Nero for the arm, then they`re good to go. (also I loved the idea presented in one of the fics I`ve read (please remind me the source if you know I completely forgot it) where in an alternate-timeline-dream sequence Vergil found smol Nero and adopted Nico, so they grew up as literal siblings. While I don`t think canon versions of them can grow that close, they can be fond of each other and easy-going in their friendship, so that would be nice too)

Patty, my beloved (headcanon-very-heavy territory ahead)

Patty will yell A Lot and Loud at Vergil for all he put Dante through on their initial meeting, but after Dante and Vergil fix themselves, she will be tentatively curious about Dante`s mystery twin. After that they would find connection in berating Dante over his housekeeping together. Patty would be fond of Vergil`s sense of style and his taste for some classical culture like literature and violin, while also benefitting from Patty`s ‘straight man’ nature for him and Dante both, as she points out any bullshit she notices (except sometimes when it matters, she lets it lie, which is how she was able to keep in contact with Dante all these years).

I am fascinated by the loser twin parallels regarding their (adopted) children – Vergil the unknowing and absent father, and Dante the secret protective but unacknowledging father figure for years. After dmc5, Vergil was forced to deal with being a father to a young adult, and Dante had been keeping in contact and protecting Patty since she was a small child, all the while avoiding the implications of his caring nature towards her, honesty and actual responsibility for her.

When Vergil is in good graces enough with Patty and learns of her history with Dante, he will piece together how big of an idiot his brother is (as he had to work hard to forge a bond with Nero, while here is Dante having the gall to completely ignore the obvious connection he has had with Patty for almost a decade (while also being very impressed)), and he will force a conversation with Dante about it (because Vergil despite all the years apart knows his brother perfectly well as can now see that the unsaid has been hurting his brother, same as keeping Nero in the dark was, and at the same time hurting Patty as well). Dante needs a powerful wake up call (as he knows Patty fro almost a decade) and Vergil knows his brother well, plus has the will and no-tolerance for his brother's bullshit to cut straight to the issue at hand, plus to encourage Dante to do better.

But yeah, in short Vergil and Patty get along great (which scares the hell out of Dante and Nero). If Patty ever learns fencing - Vergil would be the one to teach her.

Patty is another person on the list Dante will get physically affectionate with (actually she was the first person to start physically affectionate interactions with him since the fire - she literally throws herself at him in the anime and its adorable))). They listen to some pop rock together, and Dante taught her some cheap and easy tactics against demons to use and firearms. PrecariousSauce is to be awarded for the 'Call and Return' fic as it is the lifeblood of a patty stan, and the scene she learns driving from Dante is one of my favourites in all the dmc fics I've ever read. Another favourite scenario (trope?) of mine is when Patty and Vergil meet for the first time, Patty throws herself at Dante and hugs him, bt after Vergil is introduced she straight up punches him with all her might (she learned from Dante, of course))

Nero and Patty are house-on-fire kind of cousins, they can meet up (or phone) to vent about the sparda loser twins they have/chose as their dads, and are generally a good mix together. Both can be hotheaded, but the other will cut the first down to size with reason if needed. They help each other with holiday gifts for the twins. She and Nero tease each other mercilessly, same as with Nico.

some other characters

Vergil will have a good working relationship with Morrison, same as Dante.

Twins and Lucia…no much go off on. I wonder if meeting Vergil will reignite her previous crush on Dante, except on Vergil this time -than would be a cute little scenario, but not much to say besides that. I`d love for Lucia to make a comeback, at least to give her more character, and at most for her gameplay to be updated and her to be playable again. (Lucia is the only character I can ship Dante with, however their lives are too different and far apart in canon for that to happen, additionally Dante was specifically avoiding any kind of honesty with people around him for decades so there is no healthy basis for relationship there, but I can dream a little)

No specific idea for Dante and Nico. She needs to get over her hero worship of him first.If she dares, I think her attempts to provoce him with jokes will go right over Dante, as he is impenetrable to any kind of teasing, and he will probably just sleep on their way to the job if they ride together. Maybe they have similar music taste and listen to the same radio station or smth.

Dante/Vergil/Nero and Lady, Trish and Morrison are colleagues, I don`t really have anything more than that. Same goes for the other relationships you`ve listed later in the ask.

Cerberus!!! (and other Demon Arms)

I find DMC Cerberus' designs adorable and would love to get more of these doggos, they're are great. Also, Dante needs a dog - Let him have Cerberus as a pet please. And it would be cool if Vergil could summon Shadow back the same way. The twins need their emotional suppor pets.

Or just, any devil arms in general. I think it was very cool when each one had character and was able to talk, it would be great to see that again in some shape (love the Balrog voicelines). Fanfaves like Nevan also would be very welcome to make a comeback.

Thank you for the ask as always! Hopefully this was somewhat entertaining to read)

[flowerandblood]

One last thing from me – some people talk about unfollow or blocking as if it is a punishment they are threatening others with the finger, lecturing them like supreme moralists.

I beg you, if you are going to talk nonsense behind my back and complain about me or people close to me, then block and unfollow me so I can happily do the same. For me it's a reward, not a punishment.

I love my readers and friends, but I love honesty more. You can be honest with me without the fear that I will fill your inbox with anonymous hate or discuss you behind your back. It's just not in my nature. I will just forget about you without hard feelings.

As for the rest: if you have something against me, speak to me privately like an adult, then we'll talk. Anonymous stories full of grievances frustrate me, because I don't know who I'm talking to – and I answer all of them publicly anyway.

I don't understand why, since you know I have not participated in either discord discussions, racism or sending hate asks, you don't have the decency to bestow upon me the honour of talking to me like a human being – privately.

You are telling me that you know I am an empathetic human being that you want to help, but you are playing to the public instead of just settling it the way mature people do – between us.

It is this kind of behaviour that makes things like this happen to the fandom and I am tired of it. Forgive me, but you are no authority for me. Not if you don't have the courage to say what you think openly, only behind a veil. It may hurt you, but you don't care what hurts me, so we are even.

Do me a favour and behave like mature people. If you don't have a courage to speak with me in private, unfollow me, block me, go your own way without regrets.

Next anons on this topic I will just block. Maybe that will teach you something. I always think about what I'm about to post, knowing that I take for it private responsibility – you, anons, write whatever babbling will come to your head and send it to me without being scared of what others will think about you.

Comfortable. Easy. Safe.

Childish.

[mother-vermin]

I was hoping anon would be on so that I could drool my fucking brains away behind a BARELY hidden veil of anonymity but since there isn't and I can't guarantee a private response to this ask I'm just gonna have to admit to EVERYONE that my dick started tenting against my bedsheets the second you dropped your bra size. 🥰💞

Oh no! I guess everyone will have to know what a pervert you are (as if I wouldn't be able to tell who it was on anon)!! I guess it's my fault for advertising my tits like that 💕 but I can't help the thought of people like you getting off to the idea of my rack 🥰

[fbfh]

i have a request:: loudsimp!eddie x reader where reader sees him hanging out with chrissy, and she feels jealous even though she shouldn’t because she’s not eddie’s. but eddie picks up on this and he asks her about it at lunch. she shyly tells him whats wrong and he immediately gets up on the table and starts going off about how she’s his one and only and how much he loves her, louder than usual. then when he gets down he finally kisses the back of her hand maybe? or he walks her to her car at the end of the day and does it then? you can end it however you want, i just absolutely love the way you write loudsimp!eddie. thank you in advance!!! ♥️

TASTE. I literally love you anon /p You're completely correct bc as soon as eddie finds out you're jealous????? over him??????? his knee jerk reaction is to reassure you, but later when he's trying to fall asleep he keeps waking himself up, absolutely giddy that you got jealous over him. that you want him enough to glare at other girls.

you had seen them talk briefly a few times over the last few days, most recenlty right after school when you were getting ready for you extra curriculars. Eddie was headed back to that picnic table in the woods wasn't anything unfamiliar, but you didn't expect Chrissy Cunningham to follow him a few minutes later. it was weird. you found your mind hovering there the whole afternoon. you didn't know why you couldn't stop thinking about it. maybe she was meeting Jason in the woods, and Eddie was meeting a buyer. it was probably totally unrelated, so why couldn't you stop thinking about it? he's not in the parking lot after school, and you found yourself loitering around for much longer than you usually would. eventually it starts getting darker and later than it had been. you let out a huff, starting to cross the parking lot. who cares if Eddie snuck off with Chrissy instead of walking you to your car like he always does? he can hang around whoever he wants, it's not like he's your boyfriend or anything. your thoughts are racing, so you can't put a pin on which one is making your stomach twist like it is. you're so lost in your thoughts you don't notice Eddie running up behind you, until you're met with his voice.

"sorry I'm late, sweetheart. miss me?"

you're relieved, much more than you expect to be that he's here with you again, not off in the woods with someone. which he has every right to be, it's not like he's your boyfriend or anything, but he's here with you anyway. and you did miss him, more than you'd like to admit, but you hum in response. there's an uneasiness to the quiet as you walk this time, and he notices you're moving a little slower than usual.

"so, Chrissy Cunningham huh?" you say. it's meant to come off as lighthearted and playful but it just sounds petulant.

"yeah..." he says, watching you closely, trying to figure out what you're thinking. he's watched you so closely for so many years and he doesn't think he's ever seen you like this.

"she stopped by my spot to make a purchase." he clarifies, a smile kissing the corners of his lips as you seem... comforted by his words. he grabs the handle of your car, opening the door for you before taking your hand in his, gently grazing his fingers over your knuckles. this heart flips in his chest as you hold his hand back, and he waits for you to let go.

"just..." you start, voice low, not meeting his eyes, "make sure you're on time tomorrow, yeah?" you try to chuckle at the end to break some of the tension stirring inside you, but it's thinly veiled, not sounding quite as natural as you'd wanted it to. he agrees, watching you closely as you squeeze his hand once before getting in your car. it wasn't a demand or a jab like it might have sounded to someone else, it was a hopeful plead. you want him to keep choosing you over everyone else. you want his attention, which means maybe... maybe you want him. he's so elated afterwards that he headbangs in his van for like 10 minutes before he goes home, and spends the rest of the night wide awake, thinking about how you got jealous, how you want his attention, to be a priority to him. maybe he should sell weed to cheerleaders more often.

[here-lies-golden-kamuy]

Your stuff got me thinking: how would boutaro fare if he actually got the huge family that he wanted? Because wanting a ton of kids and having a ton of kids are two very different things. I personally think he’d do fine

Hey anon, thanks for your ask! I love the fact that my Boutarou HCs are centered on him being a person outside of the gold hunt and I’m living for it! Honestly this ask made me think of more content than I had originally planned, so thanks anon 🥺💖 I personally love it when people give me the space to churn my brain for Golden Kamuy, so please expect more content (in line with February I guess hehe….) 

Like before, since Boutarou hasn’t come out (👀 /j) in the anime as per this ask, I’ll be putting my thoughts under the cut! (I had too much fun with this ask and there’s a lot under the cut, I’m so sorry). I hope you enjoy, anon! <3 

Boutarou the Pirate as a Parent Headcanons

Generally, I think he’d be a good dad! I totally resonate with your idea: it is different to want something than already having it in the palm of your hands. But for Boutarou, I think he’d be a relatively good father because of how long he’s yearned for it and how long he’s planned for it. Again, this is something he’s yearned since his entire family died. He’s had lots of time to really…think about it. He’s passionate about the things he desires, but he’s also…a man that’s grounded with reality. What I mean is, part of his big life goal (maybe even his life purpose at this point) is to have a family: I absolutely see him being logical about things and plan this specific dream out. If he’s willing to do a lot of things for it (aka do crime to achieve this goal), then I’m sure that he’s utterly committed to the idea of having the best family in the entire fucking world. 

Based on his personality, he seems to be a devoted type of man to his dreams; if his dream includes a family, then that means he’s devoted to growing and nurturing that. When Sugimoto and company interacts with him, one can see his passion for life and his dreams, but it’s also veiled behind a calmer visage. I feel like he’d lose the calm exterior and be full on passionate with his trusted partner and his family. He’s absolutely the type to get emotional and even shed a few tears when his partner says that their pregnant/are ready to adopt a new child. 

I feel like he’s a sentimental type underneath that cool exterior. The type of person who would name his children by meaningful names. He’d absolutely name the kids after his lost family (with consent to his partner, of course); it’s his way of connecting his past, present, and future. If his children start to exceed the number of his lost family members, he’d probably ask his partner for name suggestions. He’d be fond of naming them after things that remind him of his partner, his partner’s own family, and himself. 

Very protective, attentive, and responsible of his children! I can see him to be a parent that promotes free thinking and exploration. He’d allow his children to explore and find their way in the world (especially on their island paradise) but with adult supervision. I also see him trying to connect with each child — all of his children are precious to him, of course he’d dedicate time out of his busy schedule as ruler for his family. I feel like his kids would playfully fight for their time with their dad! 

Jumping from the previous point, I think that Boutarou’s the type to still want parental responsibility, on top of being the ruler of their island kingdom. Hence, I can see him making certain daily tasks to be important for family bonding: dinnertime and bedtime for the kids. Boutarou would be home by dinnertime, everyday, no questions asked. He’s happy when he sees his family greet him home and welcome him back: he’s content with washing up for dinner and watching his partner and their brood prepare the meal. Until his kids reach teenage years, he will absolutely tell them stories as a bedtime ritual. They’ll be in one family room where he tells tales of his past (though he changes the name of the “hero”), including the gold hunt. Once story time is over, he’ll kiss each of his children’s foreheads and greet them goodnight as they return to their respective rooms. Boutarou will then shower his beloved partner with love and attention (can’t forget about the wife /gender neutral). 

The kids absolutely love him, and they absolutely hate it when he’s mad at them. Boutarou doesn’t seem to be the type to have a short fuse — he strikes me as someone with a lot of patience. It would take a lot for him to get angry. But his anger doesn’t manifest in shouting or hurtful words, his anger is quiet but somber. Imagine knowing that someone’s angry at you, but they’re not showing it; you just feel the vibe is different, and it makes you absolutely shit yourselves. Yeah, that’s Boutarou. I feel like it really comes out when one of his kids was in danger of seriously harming themselves. He’s still calm and collected when he expresses his anger, but knowing you’ve angered (and disappointed) him makes his family (yes, including his partner) immediately guilty. 

One of the things that makes him angriest is lying. He doesn’t tolerate it with anyone of his subjects, his partner, no less from his kids. He also hates it when his children point fingers at each other when it comes to blaming for an accident or mistake (they learn early on not to do it). I think Boutarou’s scary aura when he’s mad goes full-blown when it comes to lying and pointing the blame. Aside from that, he’s a good parent and he tries modeling good and morally upright behavior to his children — his days of being a convict and a “bad man” are long over. Each day spent with his family and island washes away the years of loneliness and bloodshed. Yes, he’s absolutely committed to protecting his dream with his life. 

[wishingstarinajar]

Two writing ideas for you!

1. You answered an ask once about what Rewind thought of Rum, and Rewind answered that Rum tied him up once. I don't know if you've ever written about that scenario, but if you haven't, it could be interesting to explore it.

2. Something from Ghost's perspective. Maybe the first time Rewind went to ask a Papyrus to sacrifice himself and Ghost's reaction to that.

Hope these help you!

Thanks, Anon! I'm going with number 2 because I've drawn number 1 before but it is very raunchy in nature ¦D

Edit: Now also available on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40751121

--------------------*--------------------

Whatever It Takes

A new place. This is so exciting! To think they can visit other places like this, other universes (or whatever they are) that are often reminiscent of home. Well, a more intact home, that is.

And that he automatically follows with is even better! He's no longer left behind, always but a few paces away from his brother as they are, somewhat literally, glued together by an unseen force. It makes things less lonely.

"Oh Sans, look! That quaint little town looks like our Snowdin! We should go there!"

There was no response to his enthusiastic suggestion, the shorter skeleton beside him looking pensive towards the village. There was a hint of nerves present on his barely visible face, something that had become a bit of a trend after they left their home. It gnawed on the Papyrus.

"It could be fun!" he tried. "We—I mean, you haven't really talked to anyone lately, so we should go down there and meet old faces but new friends!"

He tilted his long twiggy self towards his brother to beam at him with a big supportive smile but once again, there was no response or even the slightest reaction. This was also a trend as of late and an unpleasant one at that.

"Sans—" His third attempt at psyching his brother up was cut short when the other turned away from the view and started going down the hill, back towards the forest they'd come from. He reached for his brother's shoulder with a gloved hand to stop him in his tracks but his hand went right through him.

Ah... Yes, even the Great Papyrus forgets at times, as strange as it may seem. He is a ghost, for the lack of a better word. Dead and yet not, unseen and unheard while stuck between the veils of life and death. Denial and hope made it easy to forget but it never softens the disheartening sting of truth.

After regarding his semi-translucent hand with a soft sigh, Ghost watched his brother carry on into the forest until the invisible tether that binds him to his broken soul pulled him along, having no choice but to follow.

Not wishing to be bleak or down in the dumps, the spirit-like Papyrus caught up with Rewind and hovered behind him to continue chattering, something he'd do often as it kept him sane. Nobody may hear him but it was the thought that perhaps they might someday that counted. "I say you should still visit this Snowdin-like town, brother. Not all of our visits to one have been bad. Better that than wander through the forest and snow, aimlessly."

Well, perhaps not as aimlessly as he thought, for a rather familiar shelter loomed up between the trees; a sentry point, reminiscent of home.

Rewind finally stopped his trek at the tree line, his visible socket narrowed while he inspected the wooden stall-like structure, his golden eyelight seeming to search for something or someone. He looked tense. Ghost folded his arms over his chest to have a gander too, not exactly certain what exactly his brother was looking for until movement by the sentry point caught their attention. Someone was there.

Aah, it's presumably the Papyrus from this universe, and to Ghost's surprise, they looked quite alike. The two Papyri they met before were somewhat different in appearance, not to mention dress style and personality, but this one? It's like looking into a mirror. Stars, he may never get used to this...

"But of course! Any fellow as handsome and awesome as that would be on sentry duty rather than Snowdin during this time of day," Ghost smirked, a little impressed by his brother's intuition. "How clever of you, brother."

Rewind didn't look as impressed as Ghost sounded, nor confident, his tension still present. In fact, had it gotten worse? Ghost leaned forward and past Rewind to have a better look at his face, noticing a hint of... fear?

What is that about?

"It's just a different Me, Sans, nothing more. You should go and say hi! I'm sure he'll be thrilled to meet you!" Ghost urged and pretended to pat his brother on the back before recrossing his arms to hover tall and proud about the advice given.

"Here goes..." Rewind mumbled under his breath, his younger brother's encouragements going unheard. He stepped out of the cover of snow-powdered trees and walked down the path towards the stall, fidgetting with one of his jacket's drawstrings before he buried his hand deep into his pocket to appear as casual as possible... but to also hide somewhat in his oversized coat.

The other Papyrus seemed confused to see a smaller skeleton come down the snowy path and asked as he leaned over the counter to see better," Sans, why are you out—Wait." He squinted his sockets before a look of perplexion washed over his surprised face, regarding the approaching and casually saluting skeleton with highly raised brow bones.

"Hey there, buddy." Rewind's voice lightly quivered. "I will make the wild guess I might look familiar to you. Like a certain sibling, maybe, an older brother. But the truth is that you don't know me and I don't know you. Still, there's something I want to ask of you if that's alright."

"I uhh… Sure, shoot," came the uncertain response, the Papyrus gazing at Rewind with big sockets of intrigue mixed with confusion. "As long as this isn't some prank by Sans; he has more productive things to do, I assure you!"

Rewind's expression twitched at the mention of his original name, his soul squeezing at the tone it was said in. So familiar… But this isn't his Paps, no matter how much they look alike.

"My name is Rewind," he said, not to correct the Papyrus but to cement for himself that it is his name ever since he abandoned his home in search of cures. "And I had a brother just like you… so much like you. But umm, you see—Something happened, something bad, and now his soul is broken. At first, I thought it couldn't be fixed, but I think I may have found a solution that will bring my brother back to me. I-I just need your help."

The Papyrus obviously sympathized after hearing the short tale, it was written all over his face. So it came as no surprise to Ghost that he offered his help without even taking a moment to think it over; they were indeed alike. "Of course, I'll help! What is it that you need?"

"Right," the eyepatch and mask-wearing monster muttered under his breath before he took a deep breath and straightened his back to stand more confidently. "To fix my brother's soul, I need-well, your soul."

Now those words stunned both Papyri but Rewind didn't give either the chance to cut in with questions or objects, quickly continuing with an explanation.

"It sounds absolutely crazy, I know," he tried to reassure, looking hopeful and yet scared beyond his wits, for he knew he was asking something horrifying. "But, with your soul, I can fill the missing gaps. Your code matches his, I'm sure of it. He'd be as good as new! That is, if you..."

His voice trailed off, hesitation clawing up his legs and gripping his own soul. Can he actually say it, those dreaded words? His stupendous plan? He must.

"If you are willing to sacrifice yourself for my brother."

Ghost was appalled, not certain if he heard it right or if what he just witnessed was real. It had to be because he can't sleep and therefore not dream!

"Sans, wh-what are you even saying??" he quickly revved up behind Rewind and tried to clasp his gloved hands across his mouth to silence him, but of course that did nothing of the sort. "Have you gone mad??"

The other Papyrus seemed just as flabbergasted, hardly able to find the words. "You want me to do what?… W-who are you? You are no friend of Sans."

Rewind had gone silent and as stiff as a board. The reaction of the one who wasn't really his brother acted like a bucket of ice water getting dunked on him and brought him to his senses. His terrified and shambled senses.

Whatever little bit of courage he had, it was all gone.

"Forget I said anything. In fact, just forget I was ever here," Rewind quickly rattled off and took a step back, his wide socket and tiny eyelight on the snow beneath his feet, panicked but still clinging to staying calm. Every bone in his body told him to bolt but he couldn't run from someone so similar to his brother. "Thank you for humoring me, Papyrus. It means a lot, you have no idea. I—I best be going. Don't remember this, alright?"

He phased right through the shocked Ghost, the smaller skeleton stumbling as he spun around and bolted, kicking up snow in his wake and ignoring the shout to stop and wait. Ghost didn't even get the chance to gather himself or snap out of his shock, because the moment Rewind took a Shortcut to flee the scene, he was ruthlessly dragged with it.

Two Shortcuts rapidly after one and another and finally the world around them no longer zipped by like the flicking between TV channels.

Ghost swayed, feeling sick with disbelief while Rewind stumbled a few steps before slumping against a tree, the skeleton collapsing like a house of cards. As he huddled, the semi-translucent Papyrus finally acted on the fire raging in his so-called belly, no longer disorientated but still very upset.

He rushed over to his brother and opened the flood gates because how dare he even think of something so gruesome and selfish.

"Why would you say such things, Sans?? You can't just ask another monster, a brother of another you, to-to-to—Augh, I can't believe it!"

He kicked at the snow in frustration but his foot went right through without sending any snow flying.

"And who is to say if this theory of yours actually works?! Surely you didn't leave home just to go around places and ask others to sacrifice themselves for me? That's absurd, surely you see it too!"

"I-I can't do this. I fucked up," Rewind suddenly whimpered and rose his head from his arms and puffy sleeves, thick golden tears forming on the edge of his scrunched socket. He glared at nothing in particular as he squeezed his arms and pulled his legs more firmly against his chest. "I fucked up so bad. Stupid."

Oh. He's crying.

Ghost's anger and the urge to scold him further fizzled upon seeing his brother sob and hug himself after making himself small in the shelter of the tree and its roots, no longer having the heart to lecture. This whole situation was as complicated for him as it was for Ghost, just in a different sense...

"Language," he whispered defeated, unable to turn away from his brother when a familiar upsidedown soul appeared and was cradled in gentle hands close to Rewind's chest. It was painful to see his damaged soul, how it was permanently stuck in an eternal dusting state without fading away... But it was reassuring to know that Rewind held it close at all times, that he was adamant it keeping it safe.

"I-I'll have to approach it differently the next time—"

"No, brother."

"—Be less jittery and maybe sugarcoat it? Can't just drop the bomb on them right from the start, that would never work, right? Fuck... I will find a way though, Paps," Rewind said as he talked to the dusting soul with wavering determination. "I will find a way to make you whole and bring you back. Whatever it takes. And if asking every Papyrus I meet is the way to do it, then... so it is."

Ghost sighed into his hand as he covered his face and ruefully shook his head, the helplessness he felt weighing him down. He doesn't approve of this, he truly doesn't; it was disgusting to even think about... but his brother is on a mission and no matter how much it hurt, there was no stopping it.

Whatever it takes, he'll see it done.

[michelleelizabethtanner]

what do you think beth was going for with the whole "i just really like having sex with him" line? was she downplaying other feelings to herself? was she trying to get a rise out of dean? i dont think she was cuz that was a relatively peaceful conversation between them. but obviously the sex isnt the only thing about rio that does it for beth. i would think shes trying to downplay their connection but more for herself not trying to stick it to dean at all but idk

I’ve spent some time trying to formulate the general feel in my head about this scene into actual words. I super appreciate the ask, Anon! Love the ones that really get me thinking.

I agree with you, this wasn’t said with the intent to wound Dean. They had just come to an understanding and Dean was just waiting for her to sign the divorce papers. By this point she wasn’t even having sex with Rio anymore. Didn’t expect to ever have sex with him again. They’d just played their 20 questions game and he asked her to leave. She was under the understanding that whatever they had was over.

She came into Dean’s study with the intention of validating him. She told him he was right. That she couldn’t quit crime. That she liked being good at something most people could never even dream of doing. It’s because of this candor that I think she didn’t intend her words to hurt Dean. The opposite. I think she offered him the gift of honesty. In a broken marriage I think both members of the couple struggle with the unnerving feeling of never quite knowing what’s true. Especially in cases of affairs. Beth knew firsthand what wondering does to a person. How it makes you feel like you’re crazy and like maybe you’re imagining all these things that your partner is lying about. So she told him. Not through veiled denials, not through gaslighting him, not through her clear changed sexual preferences. She told him in actual words that what he thought she was doing with Rio was true. That he wasn’t crazy. That she had sex with him and she did it because she liked it.

The calm behind the statement was pity. Or maybe even empathy. Because she knew how it would feel. The truth is both a pain and a relief. She’d felt those feelings before. Except Dean’s honesty came with anger and with blame. “What did you think would happen?” He blamed her for his affairs. Beth’s honesty came from a place of almost kindness. Despite Dean’s lead-in asking for a comparison, she didn’t compare him to Rio. She didn’t blame Dean, even though Rio DID listen to her more and DID encourage her in ways Dean never had. But she didn’t make it about Dean (the way Dean made his affairs about her shortcomings, hurting her more.) She took it on herself. Confirmed it for him with that pitying little “yeah” at the end. She took responsibility for once and let him have the truth. Because she thought their marriage was ending.

I do agree, there was a lot of self denial in the statement, too. Idk if Beth even has the vocabulary to express the conflicting and complicated emotions that she has about Rio. But in this specific moment, it didn’t matter what she felt. She was telling Dean the truth for his benefit. To end his suffering of not knowing. It was a kindness despite his fallen face.

[prussiagirl]

i asked that before i found out you were a pos, but like, why are you transmysoginistic. like explain your logic i genuinely wanna know

its sad you have to hide behind anon to have a decent conversation.

the funniest part is im not even a “real” terf or whatever gender identity disorder is undeniably real. i identified as FTM for a decade. i still use he/him with those i am close to irl. but no matter what i do i am still a woman and will be percieved that way by most, and thus i am affected by womens issues and have the general life experience of a woman living in [current location] in [current era]. to the world you are no more than the sum of your parts, and accepting that will allow you to let go of issues like gender dysphoria

by the time i was 10 years old i was fully online, entrenched in TRA communities; i have been watching our community cannibalize itself for just as long. predators, abusers, rapists, pedophiles, you name it, are protected by other TRAs because it threatens to expose the cesspit of hypocrisy and sexual degeneracy literally screaming under the surface. being trans for men has become this thinly veiled golden ticket to dodge responsibilities and repercussions, to abuse those who disagree with your delusions, and to clout chase; for women it is an attempt to escape the cycle.

TIF circles are both perpetuating and victims of misogyny. they are hurt girls, usually heavily sexualized as children, or victims of sexual abuse. they tear down anything that can be construed as remotely feminine, as well as the women who partake, because they are trying to escape the discomfort of their oppression and sexualization via assimilation with the men that made them feel that way in the first place. it is escapism.

for TIMs, it is either a reaction to a feeling of failing at their own masculinity, to fulfill a degradation fetish, or a combination of the two. they are too weak, too fragile, too sensitive, too cowardly to be "real men", so they dress themselves up in some pornsick mockery of every girl they had wet dreams about when they were 13. i mean, why go through the effort of improving yourself, finding the qualities of yourself you like and want to hone in on, or god forbid INTROSPECTING, when all you have to do is put on a skirt and some clown paint for asspats? to them, a woman is the lowest, most degrading thing you could become. comprendo?

TRAs are only hurting their own, blindly fighting for their egos and what makes their dicks hard. degenerate men have sunk their claws into us and have twisted our suffering into a costume to be perverted and exploited; feeding you false, misogynistic, violent rhetoric in digestible twitter threads while women self-flagellate to desperately avoid being crucified by sissy hypno bugmen. its an ouroboros

it goes beyond a "social issue". this is being actively encouraged from the top down. it is systemic misogyny. i doubt you will read this but i will link you anyways.

transmisogyny is not real btw

[anonymousdandelion]

Heh, oops. Lighthearted reminder why, even when engaging on the internet in ways that we believe to be anonymous, we should always be cautious of what we post and ensure that we are not using the veil of anonymity to say things we would not otherwise stand behind: just got a notification that someone answered an ask I had meant to send with that little "Ask anonymously” button toggled.

If you’re thinking, “Wait a moment, Dande, but I thought Tumblr doesn’t notify you if you sent the ask on anon??” ...yep, yep, you are absolutely right about that. Tumblr doesn’t notify you, if you sent the ask on anon.

If you sent the ask on anon.

(It’s entirely fine, don’t worry, feel free to laugh at and with me about my carelessness, it was a nice ask and there is absolutely no conceivable harm in having my username attached to it. I’m just shy and enjoy being able to hide behind invisibility.

But I’m sharing because it felt like a good, timely, and entertaining reminder that even invisibility should be utilized with prudence, responsibility, and with the awareness that there are any number of ways that the cloak might sometime slip.)