#I need to get better at learning React

[clumsypuppy]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[beclight]

im known for being THE bec light fan of the fandom, so i feel like im in the right place to say this: YOU DO NOT OWN FANDOM CHARACTERS AND CANNOT PREVENT OTHER PEOPLE FROM LIKING THEM JUST AS MUCH AS YOU DO, and if that makes you uncomfortable (which is fine, and for any reason), THE THING TO DO IS BLOCK NOT HARASS THEM!!!!!!! ive seen too many ppl in this fandom disrespect others over DARING to say, even as a joke, that they're the number one fan of X character. If someone having the same favorite group of pixels as you genuinely angers you, to the point of feeling the need to insult them and having concerning thoughts about them, then maybe it is time to log off

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

sorry for only saying this type of shit lately but i kinda wanna drive a car straight into a brick wall at the highest speed possible

[cringelordofchaos]

everytime someone makes one of those creek angst short skits where craig is like "I HATE YOU!" and decides to physically and mentally abuse tweek or neglect him an angel goes "he would not fucking say that" and dies

[lesbiansanemi]

I'm so tired

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 66

Chapter; Highlights, etc. (you know the drill😂)

Aelin awoke to the scent of pine and snow, and knew she was home.

Not in Terrasen, not yet, but in the sense she would always be home, if Rowan was with her.

His steady breaths filled her right ear, the sound of the well and truly asleep, and the arm he'd draped across her middle was a solid, warm weight. Silvery light glazed the ancient stones of the ceiling.

Morning—or a cloudy day. The halls beyond the room offered shards of sound that she sorted through, piece by piece, as if she were assembling a broken mirror that might reveal the world beyond

Apparently, it had been three days since the battle. And the rest of the khagan's army, led by Prince Kashin, his third-eldest son, had arrived.

It was that tidbit that had her rising fully to consciousness, a hand sliding to Rowan's arm.

A caress of a touch, just to see how deeply the rejuvenating sleep held him. Three days, they'd slept here, unaware of the world. A dangerous, vulnerable time for any magic-wielder, when their bodies demanded a deep sleep to recover from expending so much power.

That was another sliver she'd picked up: Gavriel sat outside their door. In mountain lion form. People drew quiet when they approached, not realizing that as soon as they passed him, their whispers of That strange, terrifying cat could be detected by Fae ears.

Aelin ran a finger over the seam of Rowan's sleeve, feeling the corded muscle beneath. Clear her head, her body felt clear. Like the first icy breath inhaled on a winter's morning.

During the days they'd slept, no nightmare had shaken her awake, hunted her. A small, merciful reprieve.

Aelin swallowed, her throat dry. What had been real, what Maeve had tried to plant in her mind-did it matter, whether the pain had been true or imagined?

She had gotten out, gotten away from Maeve and Cairn. Facing the broken bits inside her would come later.

For now, it was enough to have this clarity back. Even though releasing her power, expending that mighty blow here, had not been her plan.

Aelin slid her gaze toward Rowan, his harsh face softened into handsomeness by sleep. And clean—the gore that had splattered them both was gone. Someone must have washed it away while they slept.

As if he sensed her attention, or just felt the lingering hand on his arm, Rowan's eyes cracked open. He scanned her from head to toe, deemed everything all right, and met her stare.

"Show-off," he muttered.

Aelin patted his arm. "You put on a pretty fancy display yourself, Prince."

He smiled, his tattoo crinkling. "Will that display be the last of your surprises, or are there more coming?"

She debated it-telling him, revealing it.

Maybe.

Rowan sat up, the blanket sliding from him.

Is this the sort of surprise that will end with my heart stopping dead in my chest?

She snorted, propping her head with a fist as she traced idle marks over the scratchy blanket.

"I sent a letter-when we were at that port in Wendlyn."

Rowan nodded. "To Aedion."

"To Aedion," she said, quietly enough that Gavriel couldn't hear from his spot outside the door. "And to your uncle. And to Essar." Rowan's brows rose. "Saying what?" She hummed to herself. "Saying that I was indeed imprisoned by Maeve, and that while 1 was her captive, she laid out some rather nefarious plans."

Her mate went still. "With what goal in mind?"

Aelin sat up, and picked at her nails.

"Convincing them to disband her army. Start a revolt in Doranelle. Kick Maeve off the throne. You know, small things."

Rowan just looked at her. Then scrubbed at his face. "You think a letter could do that?"

"It was strongly worded." He gaped a bit. "What sort of nefarious plans did you mention?"

"Desire to conquer the world, her complete lack of interest in sparing Fae lives in a war, her interest in Valg things." She swallowed. "I might have mentioned that she's possibly Valg."

Rowan started. Aelin shrugged. "It was a lucky guess. The best lies are always mixed with truth."

"Suggesting Maeve is Valg is a fairly outlandish lie, even for you. Even if it turned out to be true."

She waved a hand. "We'll see if anything comes of it."

"If it works, if they somehow revolt and the army turns against her..." He shook his head, laughing softly. "It'd be a boon in this war."

"I scheme and lie so grandly, and that's all the credit I get?"

Rowan flicked her nose. "You'll get credit if her army doesn't show up. Until then, we prepare as if they are. Which is highly likely." At her frown, he said, "Essar doesn't wield much power, and my uncle doesn't take many risks. Not like Enda and Sellene. For them to overthrow Maeve ... it would be monumental. If they even survived it."

Her stomach churned. "It's their choice, what they do. I only laid out the facts." Carefully worded facts and half guesses. An absolute gamble, if she was being honest.

Rowan smirked. "And other than attempting to overthrow Maeve's throne? Any other surprises I should know about?"

Her smile faded as she lay back down, Rowan doing the same beside her. "There are no more." At his raised brows, she added, "I swear it on my throne. There are no more left."

The amusement in his eyes guttered. "I don't know whether to be relieved."

"Everything I know, you know. All the cards are on the table now."

With the various armies that had gathered, with the Lock, with all of it.

"Do you think you could do it again?" he asked. "Draw up that much power?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. It required being ... contained. With the irons."

A shadow darkened his face, and he rolled onto his side, propping up his head. "I've never seen anything like it."

"You never will again." It was the truth.

"If the cost of that much power is what you endured, then I'll be glad not to."

Aelin ran a hand down the powerful muscles of his thigh, fingers snagging in the rip of fabric just above his knee. "I didn't feel you get this wound through the mating bond," she said, grazing the thick ridge of the new scar. A trophy from the battle. She made herself meet his piercing stare. Did Maeve somehow break that part of it? That part of us?

"No," he breathed, and stroked the hair from her brow. "I've realized that the bond only conveys the pain of the gravest wounds."

She touched the spot on his shoulder where Asterin Blackbeak's arrow had pierced him all those months ago. The moment she'd known what he was to her.

"It was why I didn't know what was happening to you on the beach," Rowan said roughly. Because the whipping, brutal and unbearable as it had been, hadn't brought her to the brink of death. Only into an iron coffin.

She scowled. "If you're about to tell me that you feel guilty for it—"

"We both have things to grapple with—about what happened these months."

A glance at him, and she knew he was well aware of what still clouded her soul.

And because he was the only person who saw everything she was and did not walk away from it, Aelin said, "I wanted that fire to be for Maeve."

"I know." Such simple words, and yet it meant everything-that understanding.

"I wanted it to make things ... better." She loosed a long breath. "To wipe it all away." Every memory and nightmare and lie.

"It will take a while, Aelin. To face it, work through it."

"I don't have a while."

His jaw tensed. "That remains to be seen." She didn't bother arguing. Not as she admitted, "I want it to be over."

He went wholly still, but granted her the space to think, to speak.

"I want it to be over and done with," she said hoarsely. "This war, the gods and the Wyrdgate and the Lock. All of it." She rubbed her temples, pushing past the weight, the lingering stain that no fire might cleanse. "I want to go to Terrasen, to fight, and then I want it to be over."

She'd wanted it to be over since she'd learned the true cost of forging the Lock anew.

Had wanted it to be over with each of Cairn's lashes on the beach in Eyllwe. And all he'd done to her afterward. Whatever it might bring about, however it might end, she wanted it to be over.

She didn't know who and what it made her.

Rowan remained silent for a long moment before he said, "Then we will make sure the khagan's host goes north. Then we will return to Terrasen and crush Erawan's armies." He brought her hands to his mouth for a swift kiss.

"And then, after all that, we'll see about this damned Lock." Uncompromising will filled his every breath, the air around them.

She let it be enough for both of them.

Tucked away his words, his vow, all those promises between them and extended her palm in the air between them.

She summoned the magic-the drop of water her mother's bloodline had given her.

Mab's bloodline.

A tiny ball of water took form in her hand. Over the calluses she'd so carefully rebuilt.

She let the gentle, cooling power trickle over her. Let it smooth the jagged bits inside herself and sing them to sleep. Her mother's gift.

You do not yield.

When the Lock took everything, would it claim this part as well? This most precious part of her power? She tucked away those thoughts, too.

Concentrating, gritting her teeth, Aelin commanded the ball of water to rotate in her palm.

A wobble was all she got in answer.

She snorted. "Faerie Queen of the West indeed."

Rowan huffed a quiet laugh. "Keep practicing. In a thousand years, you might actually be able to do something with it."

She whacked his arm, the droplet of water soaking into the sleeve of his shirt. "It's a wonder I learned anything from you with that sort of encouragement." She shook the wetness from her hand. Right into his face.

Rowan nipped at her nose. "I do keep a tally, Princess. Of all the horrible things that come out of your mouth."

Her toes curled, and she dragged her fingers through his hair, luxuriating in the silken strands. "How shall I pay for this one?"

On the other side of the door, she could have sworn that cat-soft feet quickly padded away.

People gawked in the halls, some whispering as they passed.

The queen and her consort. Where do you think they've been these past few days?

I heard they went into the mountains and brought the wild men back with them.

I heard they've been weaving spells around the city, to protect it against Morath.

Rowan was still smirking when Aelin emerged from the communal ladies' bathing room.

"See?" She fell into step beside him as they aimed not for their room and ravishment, but for the hallway where food had been laid out.

"You're starting to like the notoriety."

Rowan arched a brow. "You think that everywhere I've gone for the past three hundred years, whispers haven't followed me?" She rolled her eyes, but he chuckled. "This is far better than Cold-hearted bastard or I heard he killed someone with a table leg."

"You did kill someone with a table leg." Rowan's smirk grew.

"And you are a cold-hearted bastard," she threw in.

Rowan snorted. "I never said those whispers were lies."

Aelin looped her arm through his. "I'm going to start a rumor about you, then. Something truly grotesque."

He groaned. "I dread the thought of what you might come up with."

She adopted a harsh whisper as they passed a group of human soldiers. "You flew back onto the battlefield to peck out the eyes of our enemies?" Her gasp echoed off the rock. "And ate those eyes?"

One of the soldiers tripped, the others whipping their heads to them. Rowan pinched her shoulder. "Thank you for that."

She inclined her head. "You're very welcome."

Aelin kept smiling as they found food and ate a quick lunch-it was midday, they'd learned-sitting side by side in a dusty, half-forgotten stairwell. Much like the days they'd spent in Mistward, knee to knee and shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen while listening to Emrys's stories.

Though unlike those months this spring, when Aelin set down her plate between her feet, she slid her arms around Rowan's neck and his mouth instantly met hers.

No, it was certainly not at all like their time at Mistward as she crawled into Rowan's lap, not entirely caring that anyone might stride up or down the stairs, and kissed him silly.

They halted, breathless and wild-eyed, before she could decide that it really wouldn't be a bad idea…

… If Aelin was being honest with herself, she was still debating hauling him into the nearest closet when they set off to find their companions at last. One glance at Rowan's glazed eyes and she knew he was debating the same.

Yet even the desire heating her blood cooled when they entered the ancient study near the top of the keep and beheld the gathered group. Fenrys and Gavriel were already there, Chaol with them, no sign of Elide or Lorcan.

But Chaol's father, unfortunately, was present. And glowered as they entered the meeting that seemed well under way. Aelin gave him a mocking smile and sauntered up to the large desk.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stood with Nesryn, Sartaq, and Hasar, handsome and brimming with a sort of impatient energy. His brown eyes were welcoming, his smile easy.

She liked him immediately.

"My brother," Hasar said, waving a hand without looking up from the map. "Kashin." The prince sketched a graceful bow.

Aelin offered one back, Rowan doing the same. "An honor," Aelin said. "Thank you for coming."

"You can actually thank my father for that. And Yrene," said Kashin, his use of their language as flawless as his siblings'.

Indeed, Aelin had much to thank the healer for.

Nesryn's sharp eyes scanned Aelin from head to toe. "You're feeling all right?"

"Just needed to rest." Aelin jerked her chin at Rowan. "He requires frequent naps in his old age."

Sartaq coughed, keeping his head down as he continued studying the map.

Fenrys, however, laughed. "Back to your good spirits, I see."

Aelin smirked at Chaol's straight-backed father. "We'll see how long it lasts."

The man said nothing.

Rowan motioned to the desk and asked the royals, "Have you decided-where you shall march now?"

Such a casual, calm question. As if the fate of Terrasen did not rest upon it.

Hasar opened her mouth, but Sartaq cut her off. "North. We shall indeed go north with you. If only to repay you for saving our army-our people."

Aelin tried not to look too relieved.

"Gratitude aside," Hasar said, not sounding very grateful at all, "Kashin's scouts have confirmed that Terrasen is where Morath is concentrating its efforts. So it is there that we shall go."

Aelin wished she had not eaten such a large lunch. "How bad is it?"

Nesryn shook her head, answering for Prince Kashin, "The details were murky. All we know is that hordes were spotted marching northward, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake."

Aelin kept her fists at her sides, avoiding the urge to rub at her face.

Chaol's father said, "I hope that power of yours can be summoned again."

Aelin let an ember of that power smolder in her eyes. "Thank you for the armor," she crooned.

"Consider it an early coronation gift," the Lord of Anielle countered with a mocking smile.

Sartaq cleared his throat. "If you and your companions are recovered, then we'll press northward as soon as we are able." No objections from Hasar at that.

"And march along the mountains?" Rowan asked, scanning the map. Aelin traced the route they'd follow. "We'd have to pass directly before the Ferian Gap. We'll barely clear the other end of this lake before we're in another battle."

"So we draw them out," Hasar said. "Trick them into emptying whatever forces wait in the Gap, then sneak up on them from behind."

"Adarlan controls the entire Avery," Chaol said, drawing an invisible line inland from Rifthold. "To pass north, we have to cross that river anyway. In picking the Gap as our battleground, we'll avoid the mess that would come with fighting in the midst of Oakwald. The ruks, at least, would be able to provide aerial coverage. Not so with the trees."

Rowan nodded. "We'd need to march the majority of the host up into the mountains, then—to come at the Gap from where they'd least expect it. It's rough terrain, though. We'll need to pick our route carefully."

Chaol's father grumbled. Aelin lifted her brows, but his son answered, "I sent out emissaries the day after the battle-into the Fangs. To contact the wild men who live there, if they might know of secret ways through the mountains to the Gap."

Ancient enemies of this city. "And?"

"They do. But at a cost."

"One that shall not be paid," the Lord of Anielle snapped.

"Let me guess: territory," Aelin said.

Chaol nodded. Hence the tension in this room.

She tapped a toot as she surveyed the Lord of Anielle. "And you won't give one sliver of land to them?"

He just glared.

"Apparently not," Fenrys muttered

Aelin shrugged, and turned to Chaol. "Well, it's settled, then."

"What is settled?" his father ground out.

Aelin ignored him, and winked at her friend. "You're the Hand to the King of Adarlan. You outrank him. You're authorized to act on Dorian's behalf." She gestured to the map. "The land might be a part of Anielle, but it belongs to Adarlan. Go ahead and barter it."

His father started. "You—"

"We are going north," Aelin said. "You will not stand in our way." She again let some of her fire kindle in her eyes, set the gold in them burning. "I halted that wave. Consider this alliance with the wild men a way to repay the favor."

"That wave destroyed half my city," the man snarled.

Fenrys let out a low, disbelieving laugh. Rowan snarled softly.

Chaol growled at his father, "You're bastard."

"Watch your tongue, boy."

Aelin nodded sympathetically to Chaol. "I see why you left."

Chaol, to his credit, winced and returned to the map. "If we can get past the Ferian Gap, then we continue northward."

Past Endovier. That path would take them right past Endovier. Aelin's stomach tightened. Rowan's hand grazed her own.

"We have to decide soon," Sartaq declared.

"Right now, we sit between the Ferian Gap and Morath. It would be very easy for Erawan to send hosts to crush us between them."

Hasar turned to Chaol. "Is Yrene anywhere near done?"

He leaned an elbow against the arm of his wheeled chair. "Even with the few survivors, there are too many of them. We'd be here weeks."

"How many injured?" Rowan asked.

Chaol shook his head. "Not injured." His jaw tightened. "Valg."

Aelin frowned. "Yrene's healing the Valg?"

Hasar grinned. "In a manner of speaking."

Aelin waved her off. "Can I see?"

They found Yrene not in the keep, but in a tent on the remnants of the battlefield, leaning over a human man thrashing upon a cot. The man had been restrained to anchors in the floor at his wrists and ankles.

Aelin took one look at those chains and had to swallow.

Rowan laid a hand on her lower back, and Fenrys stepped closer to her side.

Yrene paused, her hands wreathed in white light. Borte, sword out, lingered nearby.

"Is something wrong?" Yrene asked, the glow in her hands fading. The man sagged, going boneless as the healer's assault on the demon inside him halted.

Chaol steered his chair closer to her, the wheels equipped for rougher terrain. "Aelin and her companions want a demonstration. If you're up for it."

Yrene smoothed back the hair that had escaped her braid. "It's not really anything that you can see. What happens is beneath the skin—mind to mind."

"You go up against Valg demons directly," Fenrys said with no small amount of awe.

"They're hateful, cowardly wretches." Yrene crossed her arms and scowled at the man tied to the cot. "Utterly pathetic," she spat toward him—the demon inside him.

The man hissed. Yrene only smiled. The man—the demon-whimpered.

Aelin blinked, unsure whether to laugh or fall to her knees. "Show me. Do whatever it is you do, but show me."

Borte said, "It's not very exciting with them tied down, is it?"

Sartaq threw her an exasperated glare. As if this were a conversation they'd already had many times. "You can be on mucking duty, if you'd prefer."

Borte rolled her eyes, but turned to Aelin, looking her over with a frankness that Aelin could only appreciate. "Any other missions for me?"

Aelin grinned. "Not yet. Soon, perhaps." Borte grinned right back. "Please. Please spare me from the tedium of this."

"And you believe them?" Fenrys asked.

Hasar patted the hilt of her fine sword. "Our interrogators are skilled at retrieving the truth."

Aelin ignored the roiling in her stomach.

"So you free them," Gavriel said, silent for minutes now, "and then torture them?"

"This is war," Hasar said simply. "We leave them able to function. But we will not risk sparing their lives only to find a new army at our backs."

"Some willingly joined Erawan," Chaol said quietly. "Some willingly took the ring. Yrene can tell, when she's in there, who wanted it or not. She doesn't bother to save those who gladly knelt. So most of those she does save were either fools or taken forcibly."

"Some want to fight for us," Sartaq said.

"Those who pass our vetting process are allowed to begin training with the foot soldiers. Not many of them, but a few." Fine. Fine, and fine.

Yrene gasped, her light flaring bright enough that Aelin squinted.

Yrene slumped back, Chaol shooting out an arm to brace her. The healer only took a perch on the arm of his chair, a hand on her heaving chest.

Aelin gave her a moment to catch her breath. To manage such a feat was remarkable. To do it while pregnant ... Aelin shook her head in wonder.

Yrene said to no one in particular, "That demon didn't want to go."

"But it's gone now?" Aelin asked

Yene pointed to the man on the cot, now opening his eyes. Brown, not black, gazed upward.

"Thank you," was all the man said, his voice raw.

And human. Utterly human.

[t-makwa]

"The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change." - Carl R. Rogers

[honey-tongued-devil]

▶[Arcane preference] reacting to you wearing their clothes [Jayce, Viktor, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Mel, Sevika, ]

If you know me, hello little deers, I'm back! If you don’t know me, welcome! Just a heads-up that I don’t use "Y/N," but rather the impersonal "you," and even though I talk about clothes, no sizes or weight are involved. Enjoy the read!

Jayce:

  - It’s not that rare when you’re together; he’s a real gentleman through and through. If it’s cold, he’ll give you his jacket, his scarf, anything to keep you warm  

  - But when you’re the one taking his clothes, it’s different  

  - When he sees you walking around the room in his shirt, just after waking up, something in his brain malfunctions  

  - It’s how it fits you, no matter how big or long it is, it seems like it was made just for you, to give you that look  

  - And to him, it feels like some kind of subliminal ad, as if the universe is making you so attractive in the simplicity of that gesture just to tell him he needs to hurry up and put a ring on your finger so he can enjoy that sight every day  

  - It’s hard for you to get anything done in the morning when he wakes up with those thoughts  

  - Those are the days when you stay in bed, cuddling under the covers, with him looking at you, hand on his cheek, getting more lost in you by the second  

Viktor:

  - For Viktor, the idea of a “little thief stealing his clothes” is an interesting one  

  - He’s never been a fan of tight-fitting clothes, plus, with his physique, it’s rare for anything to fit snugly anyway  

  - That’s why, except for his Academy uniform, the rest of his clothes are comfortable and at least two sizes too big for him, without mentioning Jayce's oversize ones in his closet  

  - What Viktor didn’t expect was that, once you started liking them, you’d just take them straight out of his drawer  

  - The first time he knocked on your door to ask if you’d seen his shirt —the very one you were wearing— he first stopped, confused, wondering how it had ended up on you  

  - And then, though he didn’t show it, he paused to notice with satisfaction how well it wrapped around your body  

  - Sometimes he pretends to forget his clothes at your place, just to see them on you, and to get them back with your scent on them  

  - For the nights when he feels lonelier  

Ekko: 

  - Communism  

  - There’s not really a strong sense of what belongs to whom at the Tree, although some clothes (jackets in particular) eventually get so personalized that no one dares to take them anymore  

  - The first time you grabbed Ekko’s jacket, it was simply because you were freezing, it was really cold, and he was resting, so he didn’t need it  

  - But when he saw you wearing it, his pupils dilated so much you could notice it despite his very dark eyes  

  - Ever since then, it’s him who gives it to you and insists that you wear it, because he likes it: there’s something extremely intimate and deeply personal about walking around with you in his jacket  

  - It’s like marking you as his, but really, also reminding himself of it  

  - And Ekko may be proud, but one thing you quickly and painfully learn in the alleys is to say ‘I love you’ before it’s too late, and that small possessive gesture makes him feel fulfilled because it’s like he’s telling everyone that he couldn’t live without you 

 

Vander:

  - Vander’s clothes have this super-secret ability to change depending on who’s wearing them. For example, what are shirts on him turn into dresses on you  

  - When you put them on, even just for the sake of convenience, you find yourself laughing in front of every mirror you pass by  

  - And if he notices, he can’t help but hug you from behind, leaning down to rub his nose against your neck, smiling against your skin  

  - “You know,” he says every single time, “it looks better on you than it does on me,” and no matter how false it might be, in his eyes, it’s truer than almost anything else  

  - After seeing you a few times in his grown-up man's clothes, he decided to dig through an old box to find the clothes from when he was younger and mend them before leaving them folded on your side of the bed, like a little gift  

Silco:

  - Silco’s strangest habit was the connection he had with his clothes: they looked like Piltover garments, except for the boots and the shirt under the velvet vest, yet they were torn, poorly mended, and worn out in several places  

  - Despite being the richest man in the undercity, he never changed them  

  - The only newer piece in his wardrobe that he used to wear was his coat, which was in perfect condition, scented with cologne, and lined with soft velvet that followed the direction of your fingers when you touched it  

  - Sure, there were ceremonial outfits, pajamas, and something comfortable yet always elegant, but he had worn them so little that they almost didn’t seem like his  

  - That’s why one day you simply decided you were bored, and while he was in a meeting, you could take the opportunity to try on the ones that fit you  

  - But that little fashion show from his wardrobe to the mirror probably took longer than expected, and definitely you were too focused, because you didn’t notice the tall figure watching you, leaning against the doorframe  

  - “Don’t take that off, I’ve got an idea or two,” his voice broke the silence, making you jump  

Jinx:

  - Her clothes are more like a flea market than a wardrobe: there are men’s clothes, women’s clothes, from Piltover and Zaun, intact, held together by metal staples, clean, splattered with paint, torn from explosions, some so small you wonder who they could even fit, and some so large that you and at least four of her father’s henchmen could comfortably fit in them with room to spare  

  - She’s the one who tells you to grab something from the pile the first time you ask to help her with her calculations and experiments, and in the end, you choose something comfortable rather than something intact or clean  

  - It took her a good half hour to notice, and then another hour to stop talking about it  

  - It was something she hadn’t done since she had a family, sharing clothes with someone else, and suddenly she realized just how much she missed it  

  - Every now and then, she’d give you oversized shirts on purpose, just to disappear under the fabric and snuggle up to you, where she felt sheltered enough to feel less vulnerable  

Vi:

  - Vi’s mentality was interesting because, by accident, if she noticed you were eyeing someone’s clothes with interest, somehow the next day those clothes would end up on your bed  

  - Vi would do anything for you; if it were up to her, you’d be dressed in pearls and gold, but neither the place nor her situation allowed it  

  - That’s why she never offered you her clothes: the older ones were tattered, barely definable as rags, which she stubbornly patched up every month  

  - The new ones were stolen, spoils from street fights, but they always came in looking battered and worn, or worse, stained with blood or strange substances, so they weren’t good for you  

  - When she saw you wearing a sweater from her wardrobe, stained and burned in spots, the first thing she felt was guilt  

  - She hated not being able to treat you the way she wanted to  

  - But from that day on, she made sure to at least wash her clothes before putting them away, and slowly she learned to love the clothes you stole a little more than the others  

  - That sweater, for example, she would defend it with her life  

Caitlyn:

  - Whenever you stayed over at her place, she always made sure to provide everything for you: slippers, socks, pajamas, anything you might need  

  - And it was always the highest quality you had ever seen  

  - So seeing you in her clothes wasn’t new, although she sometimes liked to have you try on things she didn’t wear anymore, partly because she couldn’t due to her important name, and partly because she spent half her time in uniform  

  - Those little fashion shows almost always ended with her on top of you, while you are very busy figuring out how to stay quiet so none of the servants, or worse, her parents, would catch you  

  - It didn’t matter if the clothes didn’t suit you, being able to see you in so many different lights made her fall even more in love with everything about you  

  - The final blow? One day she decided to look through the enforcers’ uniforms to find one that would fit you, and for the first time, she saw you in clothes that matched hers  

  - There was something about it that made her hope that uniform would change the chemistry of your brain too and make you join the force, just so she could spend more time with you, just so she could see you like that more often  

Mel:

  - For Mel, it wasn’t an event: she was used to everything, mastering her emotions, and seeing you wearing something of hers had only left her confused for a second, from which she quickly recovered, smiling at you  

  - “It looks really good on you, you know?” she had asked  

  - It didn’t bother her. Objectively, you seemed stupid borrowing those elegant clothes tailored exactly to her body  

  - It almost felt like heresy to wear the clothes of a goddess-like figure. But the goddess had sensed something, and she began buying and commissioning outfits for both you and her, matching, so you wouldn’t feel like you were missing something  

  - But there was one moment, a specific one, where seeing you in one of her dresses had left her speechless  

  - When you told her that the sweater was so beautiful it was almost a shame knowing she couldn’t wear it on the day you’d marry her  

  - And Mel Medarda came from a land of war, where it was hard to get attached to people, let alone objects  

  - Yet from that day, that piece of clothing became a constant for her, even if it meant layering or pulling it down to keep her shoulders bare  

  - Because it no longer just warmed her skin; it began to warm something deeper, something she hadn’t even realized she had  

Sevika:

  - Her clothes reflected her line of work: dirty, unpleasant, dangerous  

  - But despite that, she would drape them over you herself, no matter how worn they were: if she thought you might be cold, without a word, you’d find a sweater or hoodie on your shoulders  

  - And even though she’d glance at you from the corner of her eye, she wouldn’t stop watching you for a single moment when you wore something of hers  

  - It was a matter of homeland—there was no ownership in Zaun, not even last names, as even the family you belonged to was irrelevant compared to what you could do  

  - And the gangs, thugs, and troublemakers wouldn’t hesitate to steal what was yours  

  - But you were hers, and you couldn’t be stolen. And that shirt was hers, but she didn’t feel mutilated, like she normally would, when you wore it  

  - In fact, she loved it, opening her arms to invite you to snuggle up, holding you carefully so the prosthetic wouldn’t bother you, adjusting the clothing on you ten, a hundred times, almost unconsciously  

  - And when you wore her clothes, it felt like for a little while, you could wear her skin too, to understand her better, and she suddenly seemed more vulnerable  

[kavehayati]

thoughts utc :

It’s a little weird to me that some people want others who are the complete opposite to them because to me at least since as long as I can remember the things I wanted from others I would emulate it within myself, I would meticulously work to be the best version that in my eyes a human can be. Like if I was attracted to intelligence and I am, then I would work incredibly hard to be intelligent. If I was attracted to emotional maturity and sensitivity then I would literally ensure I am exactly those things, to the best of my ability of course. And while I am not perfect and I do hate fundamental things about myself, which were forced upon me to hate, not that I hate those qualities that I tried to perfect into myself, the essence of what I’m trying to emulate remains.

It’s interested me that people wish for someone their exact opposite, if that’s the case, change is very much free, why not be what you wish for a partner or friend to be like ? It’s confusing because the issue I’ve had for so long is that why does nobody notice the little things I do the ones I meticulously pedantically plan to do for a very explicit precise reason. It’s annoying. It’s so infuriating in fact. Sometimes I wish I could just grab the person and sit them down and just explain exactly why every single action I do is purposeful and intended. Why every single word and I do not even joke here or over exaggerate. Every single word I say has a meaning even silly ones like the or and or whatnot. They are filtered and selected with care because sometimes even tho the other might not recognise that a simple word like that could change the tone a little I do use the most preferable one possible. But nobody notices that. It’s annoying. Not because I care too much but because I feel unappreciated. Truthfully I don’t think anyone realises how much I care how much I invest etc. ik lots of people say they’re a yearner they care they’re pedantic but I swear to god none of you are like this whatsoever. No one. And if I find someone like this you bet I’m gonna propose to them asap 😭🙏 it’s like being surrounded by people who haven’t gained consciousness. Like they’re living in their own stupid bubble. It’s so annoying ugh. And when ppl think I missed a cue no the fuck I did not. That too is purposeful. It’s to teach said person to stfu or rethink or it’s meant to be a moment of repercussion for their actions. I am very much for justice and fairness so if I feel someone is being an imbecile with me you bet I’ll discretely try to put them in their place all the while acting silly and like I dunno anything. Or laughing about things or acting confused. Because yall suck hard and are lowkey a little stupid. Scratch that not a little but a LOT.

That is why I absolutely go insane when someone tries to rebut me or refute any argument I put out. It’s like wtf did you just tell me. Like do you even know how much prep and logic and reason and meaning goes into what I say and do ? While you pea brain just spout things out of your ass ✋😭 literally stfu do NAWT speak to me with your stupidity rn I literally explode (in my head) all the while trying to keep composure and act very nice and caring etc. it’s so NDIWKSKSK cause why are ppl so stupid. Why are they insufferable and dumb. Literally why like I thought humans were meant to be smart but it’s like I’m talking to someone who came out half baked and deformed. Or they were dropped as a child. JDIWWKAKAOQK

[gooobraghhh]

1,000 follower kink vote post: 1st place, Somno

Sleeping pups make the best toys. It’s so fun to tease a cute things body while they’re unconscious. You get to hear their honest, unfiltered noises, usually little breathy moans that react to your every move once you start gently rubbing and playing with them while you feel them get hard and messy on your fingers.

I just love the perverse intimacy of it. There’s no lying, no altering your reactions, just the honest results of my touch and you don’t even know you’re functioning as entertainment for me. You don’t know that I’m studying every little thing you do in response to my fingers and mouth. Learning what feels the best based on your reactions.

It’s so rewarding to feel the mess you’re making, to feel you needily throbbing as I play with you. If I can get you to cum even better. It’s so cute to hear you cum when you aren’t awake enough to control your voice. To make you twitch and clench and squirm infront of me while you’re none the wiser.

Maybe I’ll leave it at that. Let you wake up in the morning either oblivious to my actions or I’ll have done something to let you know I used you in your sleep. You might wake up without your underwear, or maybe you notice dirty words written on your skin in some very intimate areas, if I’m feeling cruel there could be a toy left in you that teased you all night.

But I think it might be more fun for you to wake up. To watch you try to process what’s happening. Seeing your little useless groggy brain try to catch up with the pleasure your body has been experiencing. And while you’re pathetically trying to understand why you feel so horny and sensitive I’ll make sure to start fully fucking you now that waking you up isn’t a concern. God it’s so attractive to see you beneath me, getting overwhelmed by the intensity of what you’re feeling while you’re barely even awake.

Hearing the little words you try to say that just get lost in between moans. I’ll make sure to use you until I’m satisfied, as is your purpose. With how primed and sensitive I made you I’m sure it wouldn’t take long for you to cum again, but I’ll keep going for as long as I want, without a care for how intense it is for you. And of course I just can’t stop myself from getting in your ear and telling you how cute you were in your sleep, how loud you got from my touch, what specific things made you react the most. I’ll watch your little face get all flustered and embarrassed before your eyes roll back and you just can’t keep your voice down.

Once I’m finally done with you I’ll make sure to hold my little plaything and let you know how good of a toy you were for me, how amazing your body felt. I’ll keep you nice and tight while softly praising you to sleep in my arms, at least until I feel the need to play with you again <3

[cassadism]

Here is a guide to hitting others. It is not about safe impact locations or how to develop picturesque bruising. It is about how to hit someone, and keep hitting someone, until you're both satisfied. It is how I approach hitting masochists for my own pleasure.

The first thing to note is that...

This is going to Hurt.

That fact cannot be shied away from. Pain, even for masochists, hurts. There is a tolerance to how much someone can take, and ways to engage with that tolerance. You will need to learn how each masochist takes pain, and potentially even teach them how to manage and endure it.

So you've got a paddle and a tied up piece of masochistic meat, or perhaps you're using your hand and it's bent over your knee, or perhaps it's cuffed to a cross and you've got a whip, or perhaps you've got a knife or needles or... well by now I've laboured the point enough.

How do you get the most out of your meat?

Start slow. Hit them slowly and rhythmically, building up in intensity every few hits, and when they tense too much or start struggling to breathe or can't stop themselves from making too much noise, slow down again.

Your aim is to warm up the meat so that it can get used to the pain, and once it's used to the pain you can intensify it. Climb up, drop down, and climb back up again. Vary the strike location, but remember that locations you haven't hit as much will need warming up too. The more skilfully it's done, the more you'll get to hit it.

On the subject of their breathing, tension, and noises, you'll want to pay attention to these as you hit them. As you hit them, their breathing will try to get sharp and shallow. Their muscles will try to contract to harden against the impact, and they'll make noises as reactions to your hits. Encourage them to keep their breathing steady and calm, and they'll take the hits better. Encourage them to relax so that the impact dissipates into their flesh instead of getting caught in their tension and you can hit them harder while hurting them less. Listen for moans of pleasure if they're so inclined, and encourage them to verbalise their pain, intentionally responding to pain verbally will help them endure it. Let them calm themselves between your hits, and they'll feel like they can take it and let you push them harder.

Watch how they react, but be aware that you may need to soothe or goad them. Try different things: Hold your off-hand on their shoulder so that they can brace against you. Praise them for each hit you've delivered. Tell them they can take more for you. Tease them. Rub them while they catch their breath and tell them how happy you are with them for taking it. Be verbal, but don't expect responses unless they enjoy responding. Pay attention to what helps them calm.

Once you've got the hang of these things, you can begin to play with them and challenge them: forbid them from making noise. Blindfold them so that they can't prepare for the pain. Make them watch you hit them so that they can't help but tense up in response, and play with false swings to mess with their minds. You can be cruel, because you know how it works. You know which moving parts can be shifted, and which must stay still.

Consider also what your masochist wants from being hit: some do not want to be overwhelmed, they want to be guided and hit into a meditative place where they can dissolve into the pain: intense but never too much, and then you can hit them until they're bloody and raw. Others want their pain to push right up to the edge of too much and stay there until they break. They want to cry and scream, and your challenge is to see how cathartic you can make it: break them too quickly and they might not find it satisfying, and neither will you.

And afterwards, aftercare, and you can work out what that looks like with your masochist yourselves.

[feal-the-grinch]

Their friendship <3 truly a great show.

Some coincidences, some bad timing, put in just to create more drama (which makes sense but... sometimes, it's truly hardly believable, bc what did they do to deserve that much bad luck), it was a little bit annoying at time, especially when everything was going fine again, just for everything to return to shit a second later.

However, it's really easy to see through this, because the message behind the show is so heartwarming. The character's growth, the friendships, how themes are treated... it's well done. I appreciated all the aspects of the show even more after this rewatch.

I would add : that show has a happy ending, for all of its three characters ! It is also really hopeful.

Anyway, please watch Trinkets.

(I ranted a bit more about it in the tags)(there are no obvious spoilers)

requested by anon: “could you do a gif set of Elodie and Tabitha? I loved their friendship dynamic so much.”

[damianwaynerocks]

no way the league of assassins taught damian anything about sexuality/gender identity, right? literally no way.

when he’s robin, i doubt he had the time or care to research. dick probably told him “this is completely fine and normal” and damian listened but didn’t look into it because who cares who they like, as long as they do their job.

like he isn’t rude, but he’s uneducated. like he just didn’t have the urge to research. he genuinely does not care.

and then tim comes out as bi.

and damian gets curious. partly because he was frustrated a superior detective such as himself didn’t deduce this and partly because of what the tabloids and social media are saying about tim

gotham gazette: “wayne heir timothy drake-wayne comes out as bisexual. is this just a publicity stunt?”

twitter user: “i remember when the waynes were normal. this world has gone to shit”

twitter user: “all the rumors of bruce being a child abuser and now this? something’s suspicious.”

damian’s like “i need to understand what is occurring with my brother enemy.”

so he researches and looks into it. he learns more and is extremely perplexed as to why some people are reacting so negatively. it makes him angry.

so, under an anonymous twitter account, he starts responding:

“why would the waynes require a ‘publicity stunt?’ bruce wayne is one of the most recognizable people on earth, he already donates and is founder of several LGBTQ+ resources. he has no logical need to have timothy pretend.”

“the waynes are still ‘normal.’ the one you should be concerned about is richard grayson and his idiotic food choices.”

“there have been countless studies that show there is no data to suggest that abusing children makes them homosexual. while there can be a correlation, that does not equal causation. you clearly have never completed higher education.”

nobody knows this, though. one day when tim finds out that damian was looking into this, he asked why. damian panicked and said it was to insult tim better and then proceeded to call him “a second-rate alan turing with a lower threshold for illness.” and “a disgrace to everyone that fought for LGBTQ rights due to your atrocious actions you have made in life.”

[sukumna]

NEED to see gojo and toji with a good girl. maybe you can do how they react to having the opposite. only if you want 😋

┌─ .✦ WITH THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT THEY PREFER part one

characters. multi jjk.

authors note. I too wanted to see gojo with a good girl. so here you go angel face! also i couldn’t come up with a better word than ‘prefer’ 😭 BUT WHATEVER YOU ARE!! THEY PREFER YOU

✦ — gojo satoru, with a good girl.

at first, he’s amused. like really? no fight? no attitude? but once he sees how sincerely you want to please him, something inside him shifts—gets more gooey and slow. he likes corrupting you. his praise is so filthy it’s practically degrading. whispers sweet things after he break you. in the end though he’s the love drunk one. “fuck—you’re really letting me do whatever I want… you’re dangerous, baby.”

✦ — geto suguru, with a brat.

he laughs when you act out. he likes watching you throw a tantrum. he breaks you down with patience by using rope and eye contact. keeps you restrained and aching until you beg him to take control again. he’s not mad. he’s disappointed—and that’s worse. “are you done embarrassing yourself, or do you need help remembering your place?”

✦ — naoya zenin, with a brat.

he’s pissed. his ego demands respect and you decide to challenge him? he snaps. he doesn’t get flustered though—he gets mean. “you think mouthing off makes you strong? pathetic.” grabs your jaw, fucks you face-down ass up, makes you cry for being disrespectful. every bratty act gets met with punishment until you learn to bow. he won’t stop until you’re trembling and whimpering his name.

✦ — toji fushiguro, with a good girl.

your obedience catches him off guard. but once you obey without question? he gets mean in the most delicious way. he tests just how far your obedience goes by fucking you like he hates you. imagine his surprise when he sees his good girl taking the rough pounding like it’s love. “tch. so fuckin’ obedient… bet you’d let me ruin you and still thank me.”

✦ — nanami kento, with a brat.

visibly annoyed. the glasses come off and the sleeves roll up. but deep down? he enjoys putting you back in place by edging you for hours so he gives you rules he knows you’ll break. he’s known for being calm and clinical, but underneath that? he’s filthy. you don’t act out for a while after he’s done. “I suggest you get it out of your system now.”

✦ — sukuna ryomen, with a good girl.

he thinks it’s boring—until he realizes how much power he has. a girl who worships him? you become his entirely. calls you his little worshipper. makes you beg for his cruelty—and calls it love. “you’d kneel for me without even being told? fuck. I could do anything to you.”

✦ — choso kamo, with a good girl.

he’s… stunned. like emotionally overwhelmed. this soft, obedient energy? he doesn’t know what to do with it. he gets so gentle with you and your body but later? he starts testing—just a little roughness, a little teasing—trying to see if you’ll still be good. and when you are? he falls harder. calls you his girl in the softest voice you’ve ever heard. “you… trust me? just like that?”

[militaryapple]

Thinking about how Caleb would react to you moving to your own room after sex when he falls asleep. He wakes up and sees you sleeping in your own room and not with him. him finding out (after basically interrogating her and asking non stop for days since she started distancing herself) mc gets really insecure after sex but she usually stays, just this time she got in her head too much and actually decided to leave 😭

he'd be so sweet :( oh he would shower u with so much love.. my sweet boy caleb aghhh hold me..

wc. 2.4k

was he the problem?

caleb looked at you, dumbfounded almost as he listened to your sweet confession. "i just.." you said softly, "its not you, caleb — just the way ive see other woman, how better looking they are, how you fit so well between them.." caleb could feel his body tense. how could you say such deprecating things about yourself? have you seen yourself? you were perfect to him. other woman didn't stand a chance.

he knew something was up with you. it was like this for a while now, how everytime you both finished having sex; he would fall asleep in your arms just to wake up to you gone. it made his heart drop. how he’d get up to look for you worried, just to find you asleep in your room. his chest heavy watching you curl in your own bed. at first; he thought maybe it was just uncomfortable for you, you two have always slept together but it was intimate and new — you just needed to readjust to it.

then it was again, and again, and again.

then, at some point you two had stopped. there was no intimacy, no sex, not even a glance of love. so.. he thought he was problem. he didn’t press the furthers, why should he? if he was the issue then he should fix it — and quick. after a while he had thought maybe he had became a better version of himself, he learned new recipes, did chores more often than he should’ve, even started to stay home more to stay next to you; ignoring his colonel duties. yet there was no avail.

he needed to ask you what the problem was.

so here you were, telling him everything. how you felt, how ashamed you were in your own skin. his heart ached for you, he could tell you a million times on how pretty you were, how everytime you spoke it seemed like you the sun, or how whenever you looked at him; it was full of pure love. caleb’s hands found their way to your skin, pulling you close.

his hands on the crown of your head before moving down, patting you. his other arm holding you closely — tightly. he wasn’t going to let you go, he couldn’t let you go. “i’m sorry,” he said softly placing a kiss on your head, his hand moving to your face lifting it so you could look at him. his movements with you were gentle, like you were delicate. “you’re so — where do i begin?” he let out a soft chuckle, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“first of all, your beauty is unmatched.” you stood, looking at him while his arms dropped away from you, both hands now cupping your face while he wiped away your tears through your occasional sniffling. “truly, it is. you are like heaven and earth combined, kissed by the gods themselves.” his kisses lowering down, now on your cheek. “your hair is pretty too, yeah baby? all the cute styles you do with it,” he hummed down, now kissing your ears. “how could i forget your lips? yeah? perfect. just for me to kiss.” his words were sweet, reassuring.

caleb kissed you, it wasn’t rushed. he didn’t hope for anything back, it was a kiss to make sure you knew that he loved you. to him you were a jewel; something he should put up to show the world that it’s his. you wrapped your arms around his neck, returning the kiss, your hands finding their way around his body. “ah-ah.” he said softly, pulling away. “we aren’t doing anything if you aren’t ready,” he placed a small kiss back on your forehead, his hands bringing your arm down before intertwining his hand into yours.

his hands moved up to his lips, turning over so he could kiss your hands. "you are perfect." he said softly, you looked up at him. his gaze meets yours. he was real. truthful. there was no hint of mockery or lies behind his beautiful eyes, it made your heart race. "then," you said, eyes moving away from his. "can we.. kiss?" your voice was low. embarrassed. maybe you were so shy because he was quick to take your breath, leaning in and holding you.

you were shy because he guided you to his bed, and laid you down trying his hardest to not separate your lips. you were shy about how between each breath, he made sure that he complimented you. each part of you, "your smile is beautiful," to "your hands are the perfect size to hold". caleb had your grinning ear to ear - making it feel as if it was both of your first times again.

you leaned into his touch, bringing you up and settling you on his lap on top of him. he loved having you in this position, how he could see your face so clearly, how you looked straight at him on his legs while he sat up on his headboard. you pulled away making caleb look at you. "caleb, i really want to," you place your hand on his shirt, pressing down on his body.

fuck you were so sweet for him, you really were. he couldn't help but hold your hand, using his free one to cup your cheek. "you sure?' he looked at you like you were going to break. he was so kind with you, "I don't want to.. just for you to leave me." his eyes fluttered away from you, his cheeks and ears turning red. "at least let me show you how much you mean to me, please? let me love you - worship you." he kissed you again before pulling away.

you couldn't say no, he was like a puppy in love.

it wasn't long until caleb was back to kissing you, his kisses starting at your head, moving down to your cheeks. every time he pulled away he would whisper sweet nothing's to you - making sure you knew that he adored you. you were a woman kissed by the gods themselves and send down to him. how could you feel so bad about yourself when you were so perfect? those women you envy had nothing against you. they were mere peasants compared to you, a princess in all her glory.

you whined, the feeling of his kisses tickling your chin as he continued to press them against you, his hands moving towards your stomach as he lifted your shirt to rub small circles around your stomach, you were quick to move away from him, pulling your shirt down and looking away from him. ah. right, your body. caleb's brows furrowed before leaning close to you. "I love your stomach," he hummed "how easy it is to hold you," he kissed your cheek, your once stilled body leaning closer to him. he took it as a sign to slowly - make his way to your hips.

“how i can kiss it,” you didn’t react to his touch, letting out a small ‘mm,’ in resistance but he stayed firm. he knew you weren’t going to go anywhere this time. “how i can feel you.” his mouth made its way to your lips and you returned the kiss. he carefully touched your stomach, watching your every move. you seemed more comfortable, so he pushed himself a little farther. his hands traced down to your thigh, rubbing it slowly. "caleb," was what you muttered out. oh you sounded so pretty, his name falling from your lips were music to his ears. "what is it baby?" he murmured, his hands rubbing the inside of your thing. "so soft, you know.. i imagine my cock between your thighs, they're so pretty. i cant help but think about how i'll pump into them," his kiss lowering to your neck. you whined at the confession he made, holding to his neck.

his hands slid closer to your cunt, his fingers pressing soft against the fabric of your panties while you moan softly. "yeah? you like when I press riiiight here?" he was precise, his fingers pressing down on your sensitive nub making you twitch in return. you let out a moan, his mouth reaching yours. your kisses now sloppy, messy. "there you go pretty baby, let me make you feel good, let me love you." his breaths turning into moans — feeding into you.

you could only nod, your eyes fighting to stay open. your hips rolling at the feeling of his fingers that rubbed and tickled your nub. caleb’s fingers moved to your panties, pulling on the waistline before down to your cunt. “look at you, so wet. it’s so cute, already eager.” he kissed your cheek, his mouth maneuvering to your ear as he whispered. “deep breath for me baby ‘just wanna make you feel good. okay?” you listened — and before you knew it he slid a digit in your cunt.

he pumped you agonizingly slow, watching your cunt suck him in knuckles deep. you were gorgeous, your moans to your eyes. your flushed face and how you looked at him like he was everything. “you look so pretty like this,” he hummed, his fingers quickening at the sound of your moans before sliding another digit in you. “i can stare at you like this for hours — stare at your gorgeous body.” his free hand sliding up your shirt, cupping your tits while he fondled you.

“so soft” he purred, his mouth now mouthing to your jawline, his fingers both touching and fucking you. you cried holding on to his arm while your legs closed tightly together. that didn’t stop caleb from going faster. his fingers reaching deep into you — making you feel him. “i love you,” he whined, his eyes glossy while looking at you. god, you haven’t done anything to him yet he looks like he’s about to cum. “i love you, everything about you, i want you, i need you.” you fall back on the bed, moaning while you clenched against the feeling of his fingers.

“come on pips, cum for me yeah? you can do it pretty girl,” the words sending a shiver down your spine, your hips rolling at the rhythm his hands rubbed you. it wasn't until a minute later you were babbling sweet nothings, clutching on the sheets of his bed while you moaned out his name. you were pretty little thing. Caleb moved his hand away from your tit, and slipped his fingers away from your pussy. he leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "you're doing so well for me, yeah pretty baby? you wanna stop here? i'll run a bath and wash you.." he was cut short quickly, your hand tugging on his arm.

"please," you whined out softly, your hands twitching while you looked into his eyes. he couldn't say no to you, after all you were his prized possession. caleb was quick to tug on his pants, pulling them down and his waist line, his cock pretty - leaking precum while he stared down at you. he lined himself up with your cunt, sliding his tip between your folds. "oh fuck baby," he gasped, eyes fluttering while one of his hands grabbed your arms, holding them down - the other exploring your body.

"I wish you could see just how beautiful you look," he whimpered, "how - mphgh, how good you are for me." his hips thrusted between your cunt, your juices coating him while he let out soft moans and whimpers. "oh god - baby you're perfect, so perfect I love you," he was about to sob with how good you felt. with calebs free arm he held on your hips, his hands memorizing every curve of your body. "just so gorgeous," he groaned.

you sobbed, "please, you're teasing me I can't - I want you." that was all he needed to hear before his cock was shoved deep into you. you groaned, trying to wiggle, yet caleb kept you firm. "fuck, look at you - taking me so nicely." his hips rocking into you slowly, then picking up a pace. you could only cry at the feeling, overwhelming and so fucking good. Caleb moved his hand from your hip to your nub, rubbing in circles. your legs shook before locking around his hips.

god. you were beautiful, no matter how many times he had told you. you were still so gorgeous, he loved seeing you this way. how you moaned for him, and how you held on to him so greedily. he loved feeling you - seeing you. hearing you while he fucked so deeply into your cunt. his hips started to snap against you, making your eyes roll back in response. you were drunk off him, how good he felt inside you.

you hips bucked, rolling at the feeling of him, "m close, please baby," you moaned. caleb could only shudder, his fingers rubbing against you. faster. harder. “yeah baby? come on, cum for me, wanna see your pretty lil face.” he hiccups, his pace destroying you. you couldn’t help but jolt at the feeling. you clenched around his cock, making him moan in response. you couldn’t take it anymore, your hips rolled against his, your legs shaking as you groan. it was bliss — while caleb kept his pace until he couldn’t his hips slamming into yours while he moaned. “fuck, my pretty girl oh my pretty little lady.”

caleb was quick to take care of you, taking you to the bathroom and washing both you and your hair, clothing you and feeding you a quick meal. he even set you down in his bed with fresh new sheets you didn’t even know he replaced. it was time for you both to finally get some shut eye.

caleb laid you down, then lying down next to you. he faced you, holding on to your sides as he rubbed your back under your shirt holding you close. ah, yet you couldn’t help but think about the sex. was he truthful? was he just calling you pretty, or his or gorgeous just because it was the super of the moment? your mind lingered, until caleb placed a small kiss on the crown of your head.

“i’m staying up until you fall asleep,” he hummed. you couldn’t respond. you knew why, he didn’t want you to leave again. not to run away and cry in your bed; calling yourself names that were untrue. “instead,” he said “i’ll spend the entire night telling you more things i love about you. just until i hear that you’re sleep,” his voce was soft. he was gentle. your arms wrapped around him, your face nuzzling itself in his chest while he began to whisper sweet words in your ear.

oh how he loved you. :(

[muzansfangs]

You tell them you got a brazilian wax by a guy.

Starring: Choso Kamo x f!reader; Kento Nanami x f!reader; Higuruma Hiromi x f!reader;

Format: short-imagines;

Warnings: nsfw, dirty innuendos, fluff, jealousy, established relationships, nipple play, spanking, playfully biting the partner arses, oral sex (reader!receiving), vaginal sex, breeding kink, creampie, face sitting, unprotected sex;

Plot: A trend on Tik Tok made you plot a devious plan to make your beloved boyfriend going mad. He knew you had an appointment for a brazilian wax. He obviously assumed you were going to be assisted by a woman. How will he react, when you tell him it was a man? Will his jealousy go too far? Will your prank get you in a bad situation?

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Choso Kamo.

Choso’s lips glided down your neck, nipping, sucking onto the flesh with the same care a potter would handle his fragile new creation. This man was genuinely head over heels for you. Ever since his little brother had introduced you two, Choso had found a new reason to live and, supposedly, be a better person. He had learned so much about human interactions, about feelings and even about intimacy. While he was not properly addicted to sex, this man loved being inside of you more than anything. He needed to touch your soft skin, he needed your warmth around him. That evening was not that different from an ordinary one.

His hands were cupping your breasts, fondling them, thumb and index rolling your handened nipples to elicit from your throat the soft moans he loved to hear from you so much. You did not fail his expectations. You cried out, head lolling back against his shoulder in ecstasy.

“Sing for me, babe” Choso mumbled, your insides clenching around his shaft deliciously as he slowly bucked his hips up to stimulate you.

The squelching sounds filling the room were making your head spin, eyes fluttering to enjoy the sensations to its fullest. You hated pissing him off, you really did, but above anything else you loathed causing his heart to ache. Still, that trend was too tempting not to try it on your sweet boyfriend.

You hummed, sinking down further onto his cock to meet his lazy thrusts “Louder? I don’t want the neighbours to complain again, Choso” you replied breathless, tilting your head to the side to kiss his cheek. Your hand reached towards his left hand, giving it a squeeze, before guiding it down towards your pubes.

Choso groaned, fingers grazing the smooth skin in delight, while he reached down to flick your throbbing clitoris dilegently “They can burn in Hell, baby. — he promptly said, smiling against your neck — All I care about it you and this sweet pussy of yours. Gosh, I can’t wait to taste your orgasm later” he praised you, causing you to shriek for a deeper thrust of his hips.

“Yeah? Is it that sweet, babe? I got to tell Akio then. I couldn’t describe its flavour to him today” you blurted out, only for Choso’s smile to disappear.

Choso.exe stopped working.

His movements halted, his eyes darkening as he grasped your chin to turn your head in his direction. Lying to his face was going to be hard, especially since he had put up such a puppy face that your heart ached in your chest.

“Akio? Who’s Akio?” Choso asked you, his voice low and a tad serious.

“The guy who waxed me today. Did I forget to mention him to you?”.

“Akio is a guy, isn’t he?”.

You giggled, booping his nose affectionately “Sure he is, silly. What’s with that?”.

Choso huffed, the tips of his ears turning pink as he embraced your tighter “A guy… Did you let another boy look at your pussy? Babe, why? Tell me that’s not true! You would never let anyone touch your—” he wept and you could swear tears brimmed in his eyes. Oh no, that was enough. You could not keep it up anymore.

You sighed, shaking your head vigorously “No! It’s a joke, Choso, please! I’ve been an idiot! Forgive me, baby! Look at me” you interrupted him, pressing your forehead against his one.

Choso relaxed, his breath still kind of irregular as he palmed his forehead in distress. You had really scared him. He could not still bear with jealousy. Apparently, he was not the type to go mad. Choso was too kind-hearted for that. Dealing with feelings was still hard for him. His lips captured yours, gently, holding you close as he relished the feeling of being in your arms.

“Don’t do it again” he whispered and you nodded your head in agreement. Poor Choso, struggling with jealousy.

Higuruma Hiromi.

This man was born to give you oral. Underneath you, head squeezed by the fat of your thighs, your dripping core bare for him to lavish with his tongue and your clitoris for his nose to stroke, Hiromi could happily die. The sweet sounds you made, the way you rolled your hips for facilitate the way he lapped at your folds with flat of his tongue were such a delicacy. If he was asked about a good way to die, the stressed out lawyer would have decidedly declared you his designated executioner and welcomed your pussy as his deathbed.

Now, sitting on his face, hands scrambling up to hold onto the metal bars of the bedhead, you whimpered out his name in bliss. The pleasure was so intense your obnubilated mind was neglecting the plan, your thirst for him not quenching in the slightest when you felt the tip of his tongue slip in between your smooth, slippery folds.

“H-Hiromi! Gosh, don’t stop” you drawled out, back arching as his hands, sprawled over your arses, squeezed onto the rounded globes in unbridled possessiviness.

He had no intention to stop, not even as his chin and nose were coated onto a glistening mixture of your juices and his own saliva. This was not a simple way to cherish your moments with him, this was downright his favorite addiction. Hiromi did not really care if you skipped your appointment with the beautician. He frankly appreciated how much care of your body you had, but he had never asked you to get a wax. Never. Still, when you did, he could not deny how much he loved the way his tongue smoothly skimmen over your silky folds.

“Ride my nose harder, baby” he rasped, his cock twitching in his pants as you shifted upwards, following his command eagerly.

You inhaled sharply, eyes downcast to peer down at your husband’s face barely visible from underneath your thighs. The timing was perfect. Eyes screwed shut, Hiromi was gradually guiding your hips back and forth to help you rub your swollen clitoris over his prominent nose. Waves of electricity ran through your veins, as you let out a pathetic whine. Now, or never, you had to drop the bomb before it was too late.

“I don’t think there’s a single hair left, right?” you breathed out, Hirmoni’s teeth nipping gently at your labia with a huff.

“Not even a single one… — your husband rumbled out — Not that I’d mind anyway” he whispered, mouth opening to leave wet kisses on the inside of your thigh. You two were making a mess.

You shivered, biting down onto your lower lip to concentrate better before shattering that poor man’s world with a single sentence “Yeah, I know, Hiroshi did such an amazing job”.

Hiromi’s assualt on your heat ended instantly. Hooded eyes opening, a knot creasing his forehead, he glanced up at you inquisitively “You meant Hiroko, not Hiroshi. I sincerely hope so”.

“No, I meant Hiroshi. — you countered back, breath still uneven as you wiped away the sweat beading your forehead with the back of your hand — Hiroko got down with a cold, he’s in charge of the beauty center now. I probably forgot to fill you up with the news” you replied, trying to sound convincing as Hiromi just stared blankly up at you.

Maybe it was just your impression, but the atmosphere around you, once charged with sexual tension, grew gloomy, almost chilling. His finger slipping into your core all of sudden made you choke out a screech of surprise, pleasure and discomfort engulfing your lower abdomen as you gawked down at him.

“Don’t talk. Not a single word unless I demand you to speak” Hiromi flatly said, curling his finger into you unforgivingly slowly.

You gaped in shock, legs almost giving up as he shoved another finger into your sappy hole, his eyes darkening as he assessed your reaction. He could not believe you had waited up until that very moment to tell him such a thing! You, his muse, his reason to wake up in the morning, you had let another man touch his nest.

“Did this man touch my home? Did you let him graze his fingers over your pubes, down to your labia, spreading them for him to enjoy the view?” he interrogated you, his tone sharp and cold, taking the same edge it did when he was in a courtroom. This was a problem. You knew you had to stop that circus.

You cried out, lips parted, as you shook your head “H-Hiro! It was a joke! It was a joke, I swear!” you fretted, watching with glee as his expression relaxed and he slided his fingers out of you.

You did not register how he slipped out from between your thighs, pushing your face down onto the pillow as he bit down onto your arse. All you knew was that, when he finally was deep inside of you, his mouth neared your ear and he got back at you from your silly staunt “Let me fill you up with something better than a fib, hm?”.

Nanami Kento.

Large and calloused hands gripping your hipbones, cock stretching you out deliciously, you did your best not to reach your climax right away. Kento Nanami, the best partner you could have ever asked for, was taking his sweet time with you. His hips smacked against yours in a firm, steady pace, as you almost drooled over the polished wooden surface of the desk.

Sex after he came back from his small work trips was the best. Passionate, intense, the lust blinding you two all of a sudden. This time, it had washed over you, when he had seen you saunter towards him all dolled up for a dinner out. A dinner he had promised you before leaving and a dinner you were probably going to be late for.

“I missed you. Wholeheartedly. Waking up alone sucks” Kento stated, burying himself into you to the hilt.

You moaned out, nails scraping the wood as you pushed back against him, squeezing him up perfectly to enjoy the way his girth made itself space within your walls. You were absolutely in a frenzy, your make-up ruined, as you rested your cheek against the desk.

“I missed you too, oh so much” you replied, breath uneven as he leaned down to plant a kiss onto your nape, thrusting slowly into you, making love instead of fucking. This felt just perfect, so perfect that, if it was not for him speaking up, you would have forgotten completely about the devious plan you had in mind.

“You even waxed for me, huh?” he whispered, causing you to tighten up around him again and for your husband to grunt in pleasure.

“You shall t-thank Noboru for the last minute appointment he agreed on” you blurted out, Kento’s eyes widening at your words. A shot through the heart would have felt less painful.

A man had seen his wife’s pussy? Oh, that was impossible. He was probably too tired and had misheard your words. The Hell with that, he was never tired when he was with you. Kento Nanami had heard you correctly. He cleared his throat, hips still, whilst he gazed down at you.

“Noboru?”.

You swallowed forcefully, glancing at him from above your shoulder “Yeah?”.

“Are you perhaps implying you lied down on a couch, legs wide open, to let Noboru touch your pussy?” he inquired, voice calm and collected, even if his grip on your hips was getting bruising.

You nodded your head “And what if I did?”.

“Then I will accompany you the next time you want to get waxed. — Kento replied, giving you a warning thrust that made your breath hitch in your thraot — You know, I would not want our dear Noboru to just imagine the filthy sounds your pussy makes, when I fuck it. Let’s give him a show, darling. What do you say? Would he like to watch me fuck you?” he asked you, resuming his relentless pace.

His hand landing harshly onto your rear caused you to whimper out, sweat beading your forehead, as you regretted your choice to tease your beloved husband. His silent, latent jealousy was turning out to he too hot to handle. He caught a glimpse of you trying to open up your mouth to admit it was all a lie, but he shushed you with another spank.

“Hush, sweetheart. — he cooed, your whines a melody he would have never get tired of — I know you were joking. But we both were serious about trying to have a kid, right? Let’s start tonight. Fuck the dinner, I’ll cook for you later” he rasped out, increasing the pace of his thrusts.

Oh, dear, your wobbly legs and the hot seed dribbling down the inside of your thighs were the signs the only two men allowed to see you naked were your husband and your gynecologist.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! I always feel so giddy when I write for JJK. Hopefully, you’re going to enjoy this piece. I don’t think you guys will get a part two soon, but I do not close the door to that possibility.

Anyway, likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

until next,

X O X O

TAGS: @axesfordays @areyouflying