#Short reply is short

[spinejackel]

What are dead man walking tornadoes? :O

it’s a multi-vortex tornado. i dont remember the tribe it originates from (i think it was cherokee), but there’s a native american legend…? saying? that goes “if you see a man in a tornado, you are about to die.”

the most infamous shot of a dead man walking tornado hit jarrell, texas in 1997

it did so much damage to the town it caused the scale that tornados are measured by, the fijita scale, undergo revisions, and it made anchoring buildings in the tornado alley region pretty much mandatory. (it took the entire town off the map. only those who had taken shelter outside of the town or in underground bunkers survived.)

two more examples of dead man walking tornadoes looking like a person are a tornado from 2011 that hit cullman, alabama

and a tornado from 1975 that hit xenia, ohio

edit: it has been brought to my attention that the native american “legend” part of this post was a rumor spread by a documentary.

i have been asked to remove it, but i believe in letting my errors stand because i’m not perfect. i make mistakes

[bacchuschucklefuck]

class swap design masterpost for convenience (from top to bottom: bard!riz, cleric!gorgug, sorcerer!kristen, barbarian!fig, artificer!adaine, and rogue!fabian)

[bigfatbreak]

I don’t know if you have answered this question before, but in your Dad villain au, what dream Gabriel and Emilie took from Natalie? Or is it an spoiler? Lov all your aus! I’m a big fan!

In short, Gabe and Emelie had been stringing Nathalie along as a third wheel for a WHILE, just for the sake of using her both for work and as an emotional crutch. All she wanted from them was an honest truth, and in the end, she wouldn't have minded being in an open relationship with them if they offered, but they only implied such a thing and always kept her in the dark. She would've even taken them having a full friendship-whatship breakup with her, but she wanted truth and communication, which they never gave.

By the time she started to come to her senses about how her two best friends were treating her, she felt like she was locked into a permanent situationship with them due to how much of her work history was reliant on their grace (if she quit and they hated it, which they would, she couldn't use the last 15+ years as a reference) and how hostile they would seem to get if she had any notion of dating. (Both of them are selfish about Nathalie, and won't hesitate throwing a "tantrum" of sorts if they discover she's with someone.) She felt as though she couldn't have a family or a lover, instead trapped by two extremely affluent people who could puppet her life on strings.

Then Adrien starts acting... different, and reliant on her, and asking for help from her, and there's something sort of wonderful about being an almost-mother to a boy who has parents - parents who are terrible at being parents, but obsess over BEING parents.

If they were going to ice her out of having a relationship, she's going to ice them out of raising their child. simple as that.

[captainmera]

Was evelyn ever ALMOST caught by witch hunters?

I WROTE IT, BECAUSE DRAWING IT TAKES TOO LONG.

For some reason, I forgot I could just...... Write these little shorts with little illustrations alongside it, instead of drawing out the whole thing and it takes forever. So... here ya go! Two more little drawings beneath the cut with some text!

Roger growled through the gap amongst his ivory. He could not wrap his head around why his rival was standing there with bow and arrow, willing to.. What? Shoot him? For this woman. Barely a Christian woman, even. "What are you going to do?" Roger gestured at Caleb's homemade weaponry. "You're going to shoot me if I don't leave?" "Maybe." Caleb said, still not tensing the bow. "My brother's a real clever guy, he knows a lot about the body. Did you know that arterial bleeding is the most fatal?" "Uh-" "Looks the most accidental, too." Roger furrowed his brows. Caleb's brown eyes were void of warmth. "What are you saying?" "I'm saying I'm holding a bow. I'm saying I'm pretty good at using it. I'm saying I'm a woodsman, you're not. I'm saying that if I wanted to accidentally shoot you and hide your body, I could. And if you were discovered, it's an arrow in you, not an English pistol wound, or a knife. And nobody knows you were ever here." "...You're not serious." "You can always find out." "You're bluffing, I've never seen you use a bow and-" "Leave my property." Caleb repeated. "And if you are going to accuse my friend of witchcraft, you better have more than suggestive or spectral evidence." Roger glowered back, held his hands up in peace, and backed away. "Fine, I will." And left the way he came through the woods. Caleb waited until he couldn't see him any more, before locking the door and pulling the curtains. Roger had never liked Caleb, but before his rival took a break from witch hunting, Roger had at least had a competitors respect for the man. But respect turned to suspicion. Caleb had been acting strange for awhile... Glum and a lot more quiet. Then that woman showed up. And now the cove were against spectral evidences? Caleb had been the most frequent and outspoken about how witches found a lawful loophole by using supernatural means to get away with their crimes. As it was difficult to prove that a witch had tormented someone in their dreams, for example. And Roger agreed! Sure, Caleb was annoying, but they had both been amongst the best and the worst of hunters, being the same age only meant the two lads butted head to stay in their spot as head of a patrol. Being a witch hunter was a competitive sport, almost, it was hard to explain unless you participated. They were not friends, but Roger was sure if the roles had been reversed, Caleb would've been suspicious too and, honestly? Caleb would've tried to save Roger. It was just good sportsmanship. And this whole thing smelled wicked. Caleb turned to Evelyn. "Are you alright?" "I don't know.." She said and looked at her hands. Artemis had crawled out onto her shoulder to give her a comforting little spider hug. "My magic.. It didn't work." "What?" Caleb abandoned his bow by its place next to the backdoor. "It's not working?" "I don't- I was trying to make it work, he saw me. I'm sorry." Caleb lift her chin up. "Hey no, it's alright. Maybe.. You've just been here too long?" "No that's not it. I know it isn't." "Maybe you're ill?" She smiled up at the crease of worry on his forehead. He was trying to sound calm and proper, and she knew that tone of his. That rougher, almost demanding, serious tone. That tone he used with Philip and his friends when they were turning to him for leadership and give them orders - even if he was just as anxious as them.

His eyes flickered away, noticing that she had caught him spiralling with worries. He shook his head to get out of it and straightened his back. "Are you ill?" He repeated with a softer tone "No, I dont think so." "Not witch-ill, human-ill?" "No... I don't have any symptoms." "Hm.." Caleb thought back at when she had visited him at his job. "Oh, was it the sprig of dill tea?" Evelyn's eyes lit up. "Oh! Oh right that did taste awful!" Caleb couldn't help but break out into a soft scoff. "Well, good to know that folktale is true." "Huh?" "It's said sprig of dill keeps witches and evil away. That's why we drink it at the morrow' meeting." Evelyn's lips pressed into a line, feeling a little silly that she had so readily accepted tea from a bunch of woodsmen-slash-witch hunters. Of course they would be drinking things like that out of superstition.

"Right." She brushed her vest. Caleb snorted. "Stop it! I was afraid!" "Sorry, sorry. I'm sure it's only temporary." Evelyn looked at her hands. "You think so?" "Yeah. But.. Why don't you stay here, just in case, until it comes back. Yeah?" "Appreciated." "Of course." Evelyn swayed her skirt bashfully. "Caleb?" "Mh?" "Thank you." She pulled him in so she could plant a kiss on his cheek. "You've been my hero today." Caleb's limbs were full of pink and red butterflies. He laughed nervously and swatted his hand around in the air. "Oh! PFSH! O-Of course! I can't just- You're a maiden in distress! It's only the right thing-! Anytime, milady." And theatrically rolled his hand before bowing to her. And that got him in the right height for both of her hands to cup his face. "I think you deserve one more then." And kissed him on the side of his nose, his forehead, and when his smile spread his lips wide across his face, she kissed the dimple by his side. And that was enough. Caleb crumbled, and turned away from her with an incoherent sputtering of words. She smiled. Caleb put his face in his hands to cool, stroked them through his hair and coughed. "TEA?" He offered, gesturing at the stove. "Er- not, that tea, better tea." "Sure." And took a seat nearby him.

[doodlewizardry]

Have you ever wanted to find your old Ao3 comments? Easily keep track of which (and how many) fics you've commented on? Rediscover a fic that you left a time capsule of a gushing essay on?

Well, you can! And it's simple! (* Note: it only works for comments written after you turn this on.)

Go to your Preferences:

There's a checkbox labelled "Turn off copies of your own comments". This is selected by default. If you deselect it (and save your preferences) then you receive an email for every comment you leave.

But I don't want to get my inbox flooded by Ao3!

Understandable! Luckily, most email clients allow you to set up rules for incoming mail depending on their sender and contents. For instance (using Gmail), I've made it so that these emails skip the inbox, are marked as read, and moved to a label I call my "Comment Collection".

The result? A complete, organised and fully-searchable repository of any comments you leave from this point onwards! Search by fic name, author, date, that one sentence you vividly remember leaving!

I've set up other rules, too, like starring emails that are replies to my comments - I'm always excited to receive them!

I love this system, and I think it's motivated me to leave more comments. I hope that others find it useful too. Happy commenting!

Original preferences trick from this Reddit thread. Tagging @justleaveacommentfest, which motivated me to write this post!

[critter-of-habit]

***SPOILERS FOR AHSOKA EPISODE 4***

...

OK, hear me out. So, Sabine has been taken prisoner on a giant ship that's basically all engines to be able to jump to another galaxy.

Most of the crew are droids, with Morgan, Baylan, and Shin the only humans expected to be along for the ride.

What's the likelihood that they planned extra space on this incredibly single-purpose ship *just in case* they happened to end up with a prisoner?

And it's undoubtedly going to be a long trip there. Where, oh where, is Sabine going to sleep? Clearly, it needs to be somewhere that someone can keep a close eye on her, and Baylan and Morgan can both pull seniority to say "not it".

Somewhere, perhaps, where there's only one bunk...

Dammit anon I'm so weak for "there is only one bed"

Sabine sleeps like a drunk cat

[mauswyx]

old ties, new beginnings [ch.2]

Thomas Hewitt x f!reader: ch1 // ch3

TLDR: By chance, Thomas encounters someone from his past and gets to be treated like a normal guy for an afternoon–except he doesn't want the treatment to stop. [pt.2]

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

CW: mention of past trauma/abuse, slight nudity

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“I’m really glad you remember me...”

She was sitting with her legs sprawled out in front of her while she leaned back onto her hands, staring out over the lake-top as the warm breeze gently weaved through her hair. The lake was practically still, save for a few ducks that had flown down; she watched as they preened their feathers and dove for fish.

Thomas gave a low hum to let her know he had heard her; he was sitting cross-legged a meter or so behind her, pulling at the grass around him. The ever looming thought of what he’d have to do made him nervous. A part of him hoped you’d excuse yourself right now and leave; Hoyt would find you—take you back to the house and you’d just be cattle again. It would be easier that way. He could put on his face and you’d never know it was him…your dying thoughts wouldn’t be hate for him. The image of you dying caused a pain in his chest; the pain only worsened when the thought of you calling out for him, begging him to save you flooded his mind. Would your final words be his name on your tongue? To his horror, the idea excited him. You had been nothing but compassionate towards him–a beacon of warmth when all anyone else had done was treat him like an animal, a beast. And here he was, daydreaming about slaughtering you.

With a slight groan you pulled your stiff legs to your chest, snuggly wrapping your arms around them with a satisfied purr. His shirt rode up your thighs and rested around your hips, slightly exposing your bottom; with a grunt he darted his eyes away from your flesh. He didn’t deserve to look at you in such a way–not when he was going to be the one to wipe you from this earth. His fists clenched at the dead grass as the situation weighed on him; he didn’t want to do it. He really didn’t. He wanted to stay in this moment forever–wanted to live in a time where you wanted his company, content to sit in his presence without fear or judgment. In this moment you were alive. Alive with him. 

He looked to the sky, to whatever god Mama had long since given up on getting him to pray to, for an answer. No one else had ever done the things you had done and it had to mean something. It had to.

It had been him to stumble upon you, no one else, like you were a gift left by the heavens waiting just for him. His. Straightening his back and releasing his grip on the grass, the thought dawned on him. You could be his. Everyone else seemed to have their own company–be it sisters, pets, or working girls–so why couldn’t he? He could be good to you: he would treat you much better than a pet and substantially better than the way Hoyt treated his guests. 

He’d take care of all your needs–you’d be his responsibility, he was the one inaugurating you after all. You’d be well fed, he wouldn’t rest until you had a full stomach every night; you’d never get bored, sitting in with Mama and his aunt on their lunchins or more realistically tending to your own chores around the homestead; and though he, himself, didn’t really care for bathing, he figured a respectable woman such as yourself would, so he’d make sure you had every opportunity to stay clean; the house had many rooms but most of them were filled with clutter so you’d have to wait a bit before getting your own room. He pondered for a moment, thinking about what room would suit you best; he liked the idea of you having one of the rooms with the fancy windows that Mama once cherished. In the meantime, you’d have to stay in his room…have to share a bed with him too. His fingers twitched at the thought of sleeping next to you. He had to physically shake his head, when the thought of you waiting-up for him at night after a hard day's work–unable to sleep without him crept into his head; he couldn’t get distracted by such thoughts, there was still so much left to work-out.

You had sealed your fate upon entering the town’s border; in his heart-of-hearts, Thomas knew this was the only way to keep you alive and that’s all he wanted; that’s all that mattered. You’d definitely need some adjusting to their way of life–you were a saint but he knew not even you could understand right away why they needed to do the things they did, but you could learn. He’d keep you alive–even if it killed you.

The sound of a sniffle pulled him from his plotting.

You had hidden your face in the crook of your arms that now rested atop your knees, while he had thought out his plan. Oh no. What had he done? Did you finally realize how disgusting he was and were mortified to be with him? Had you said something personal and he had ignored you–too caught up in his own world? How could he be so selfish! He let out a whine as his thoughts ran wild with possibilities of what he could’ve done to upset you. It felt as though his very world was crumbling around him–keeping you needed the foundation of you not despising him.

“I’m sorry…” you huffed out, raising your head to wipe at your eyes, “I’m just…I’m sorry!” The tears began flowing freely despite your efforts to contain them. You felt pathetic for crying, you had nothing to cry about when it was Thomas who had been the victim.

“They were so c-cruel to you-ou,” you hiccuped through sobs, “and I did noth-hing!”

For years you had watched as they had treated him less-than the dirt beneath their feet and you had been too much of a coward to even defend him. To even console him. Having only been a child did little to console you: even at such a young age, you knew what they were doing was wrong and you still chose to turn a blind eye. You were no better than any of the other children who had run away from him or the townspeople who had mistreated him; you knew you deserved whatever punishment they had coming. Had he not only been just a child, as well? How was it fair for him to be treated like a walking-disease, merely for being different, while other children got to live normal lives at no cost at all. It was maddening and the guilt for not having done anything to prevent his abuse or ease it was tearing you apart. 

“Oh Thomas, I’m so sorry! You didn’t deserve-”

The words died in your throat as the sound of settling grass alerted you of his presence. He was kneeling next to you now, holding out an uncertain hand mere centimeters away from your face. His hand was formed as though he was intending to cup your face but wanted permission. His stormy eyes couldn’t keep yours as he shifted his gaze around nervously. How could he be so considerate towards you? He should hate your very being. You wanted to turn your head away from him, you didn't deserve his comfort. He should just leave you to rot! But you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away; choking back a sob, you leaned into his touch–allowing him to bring you solace. He wasted no time in sweeping your guilty tears away with the pad of his thumb and gently massaging at your temple. His tender care only made you want to cry more.

Thomas couldn’t help but admire how bewitching you looked while you cried softly against his hand: wet eyelashes pressed against puffy-flushed cheeks and cherry-red lips turned into a soft pout. And when your eyes opened, to peer into his own–he hated to think it but you truly did look pitiful. Looking up at him like he was the only thing that could soothe your pain. The tight feeling in his chest returned. He didn’t care about the past, or rather he didn’t care about what you didn’t do in the past. He knew what you did do and that was enough for him. Everyone else’s actions had nothing to do with you so how could he fault you, the only person to ever treat him like he was worthy of some human decency? He had grown accustomed to the insults and the physical tormenting stopped when he hit his growth spurt; those that continued to pester him after which were no more significant than gnats buzzing in his ear. Even now when unruly cattle would hurl insults at him, he knew it was all meaningless. At the end of the day they were still just that–cattle. To Thomas, you had done nothing wrong and there was no need for you to apologize–it only crushed him to see you so distraught over something you had no control over.

Overcome with emotion, he leaned closer to you and let out a whine into your hair. 

The unexpected proximity was startling, Thomas had all but engulfed you into himself. Though you didn’t mind. He was warm and smelled of musk and something else you couldn’t quite place–it was almost metallic. The smell was comforting nonetheless. You leaned into him–absent mindlessly closing the small gap in between you–grazing your nose just under where his mask met his skin, trying to figure out what that smell was. The sudden contact must have startled Thomas as you felt him tense around you, but he made no move to remove himself from you.

“Is this ok?” you breathed out, not wanting to take advantage of his goodwill. You could feel the rumble in his throat and his hair tickle your face as he gave a singular-short nod.

With your new allowance, you leaned fully into him: tucking your arms in between you as you grasped at his stained-shirt, burrowing your face against his neck to ride out the remainder of your tears.

“I really am sorry…” you muttered against his skin, you could feel him shiver but you couldn’t bring yourself to move away. He was warm and the skin-contact was soothing. His breathing was heavy and you could feel another rumble pass through his throat as he just barely grazed against the now-dry shirt on your back–giving you time to push him away–before settling against you. You could feel as he moved to lean his own head against yours, his warm breath showered against your ear. You stifled another sob against him with a whine, this awkward side hug was far more than you deserved.

A fire burned in Thomas’s chest as he clutched you closer to himself. In this moment, with this small act, you had proven to him that he was correct: you were different and there was no doubt about it–you being brought back to him was so that he could make you his. And he would be damned if anyone tried to take you away from him. 

The sun felt warm against your skin and the heat that Thomas expelled only heightened it, your earlier swimming and recent crying fit had finally worn you out. Your eyes fought against the pull of sleep, but ultimately the rise and fall of Thomas's chest against you lulled you into the unconscious abyss.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

context <3

[enden-k]

first off, love your oc’s, they all look adorable and chaotic little gremlins (/pos), i think they’d be fun to hang out with

secondly, can i ask who the person in the long coat (??) with the red on the inside is? for some reason they struck my interest 👉👈

- 🍁

thanku aaa 😭💕

depending on who youre hanging out with it could be fun ye.....some other characters should be avoided at all costs hhhfhdb (like the one youre speaking of)

his name is youri, he (and his beloved rat) are lit the first proper characters i ever created. i remade this story like 4 times over 10 years and they were the only ones who always stayed the same !! (he was always my fave and everyone who read it, so its funny u ask abt him now)

anw hes not the antagonist behind everything but he does belong to the bad guys if u wanna call them that. constantly on the hunt after his dear rat bc its his task in the game and not one easy to be around. basically the kinda guy you should run from when you see him, if its not too late

[corvidaedream]

trying to respond to someone on instagram who messaged me in italian about one of my drawings, and cycling my responses back into english a couple times before i send them just in case google has turned "yes, i drew that four years ago" into "i hope you die" in italian somehow while i wasnt looking

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

can adhd ruin your memory?. so basically I have a really bad memory, i can remember last year at all, I know it happenned but I cant remember it, I can only recally one location from 2021, and I cant remember anything before that except one location. I know what happenned, but I cant recall anything other than a picture in my brain sometimes. I know who i am, but it feels like my whole life before today is just information, that happened because I know it happened, but icant recall it happening. is this normal, its been like this my whole life. another example is faces, I can remember details of the face (brown hair, tan skin, etc) but I cant remember the face visually. is this normal?

Hi there,

ADHD can affect short term and long term memory. Here’s an info graph and article from Neurodivergent Insights:

Here are some other articles that might help:

I hope this helps answer your question. Thank you for the inbox. I hope you have a wonderful day/night. ♥️

[ebi-noodle-doodles]

I LOVE YOUR ART SM, ESPECIALLY THE MIKU ONES, YOUR SHADING ALSO REMINDS ME OF STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE(the old one) IF YOU DON'T MIND CAN YOU A TUTORIAL ON HOW YOU MADE YOUR ART LOOK SO.... SOFT??? AND LIKE BRIGHT?🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

Awe thank you! Have a Cherry ShortMiku

I rushed the loose "Tutorial":

Its a bit messy Its 8:30 am i havent slept yet hahhaaha! So basically colors right? IiiIII also am not knowledgeable with color theory but if it looks good it looks good ya know? I sometimes dont get satisfied with the end game so sometimes I adjust the overall illustration's HUE/CONTRAST/BRIGHTNESS/SATURATION etc. These adjustments are crucial imo! To make the entire illustration homogenous, adjustments are necessary! anyway

all of my illustrations most times arent just a fully step by step thing. Sometimes I go back to a layer, I adjust, I get frustrated that sometimes it doesnt look the way it should be in my head. I think people have been asking me how I draw but honestly couldnt find the energy and time to do so until now granted its a bit of a mess ;-; I think its just that I couldnt give a step by step since I myself am chaotic with my layers and progress which is the FUN part imo -u- so thats it- hopefully it explains the basics(?)

[chloesimaginationthings]

Shueisha color teasers dropped! thoughts on the pallettes?

Okay quick rundown of what I think!

I think Jodio and Dragona look the best, I’m glad they kept Jodio’s colours, and Dragona looks more or less what I expected!

Though I’m not in love with the orange outfit for dragona, I think green or purple would have looked way better! Paco is fine, though I think his hair should have been a dirty blonde.

And I’m so sorry Usagi enjoyers, he’s a lost cause, they made him tingle. They feared to let him slay, they debuffed him. It almost looks alright but then they made the hat neon blue,,, should of been at least red to at least compliment just a lil

I think everyone else’s colours are fine! Though kinda just standard, and I do love November rain, I won with him having blue!! (Looks like weather report which is super cool)

Tbh I can get use to these colours, EVEN though I’ll probably still use the colour palettes I’ve been using, not like Shueisha colours are canon, It’s disappointing they just used palettes from certain Araki paintings over trying to make their own decisions on palettes

Jodio is fine, seeing Araki used it multiple times so it feels like that is what Jodio is supposed to look like, but taking from a painting where the whole point is to be one certain colour scheme, where everyone matches (Araki does these types of paintings a lot) feels somewhat misguided and will make Dragona, Paco and Usagi blend together and while Jodio will stand out.

I feel like there should be more variety of colours amongst the group, similar to how Golden Winds cast are all defined by one colour. I felt like it was too soon to give them colours, but again maybe I’ll warm up to them,

Definitely still using my own palettes whenever I feel like drawing them again🩵🩵🩵

[nukbody]

I love your Mortum!!!

Thank you so much anon 🧡 Im feral for this woman. For them.

[deoidesign]

vampire and werewolf sitting in a tree

time trav e l i n g

first comes. trying to kill eachother then comes... learning you're his dead ex-lover then comes marriage!

(you can buy the book this scene is from for $15 it's really good. it's the fan favorite of the series!)

[tired-biscuit]

istg what I wouldn't give to ride Kiba after having a horrible day

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // established relationship, domestic comfort.

wc: 1.9k

coming home to find him dressed in sweatpants and manspreading on the couch; looking warm and cozy and just so… boyfriend.

he greets you with a lazy grin and a little ‘hey, babe’ when he sees you locking the front door behind you, and after the day you’ve just had, he’s like a sight for sore eyes.

your bag lands with an audible thud on the floor; the shoes are quick to follow. keys get tossed to the side, as does the umbrella that you’d uselessly been carrying around the entire day for absolutely nothing since the weather app had decided to fuck you over. you’re tired, overstimulated in a sense, but completely sucked dry of any emotion at the same time.

the clothes you’re wearing feel overly tight on your body and the scarf that you had only just unwrapped from around your neck felt like it was choking you during the entire train ride home. it makes you want to gather them all up in a pile, pour gasoline over it and set it right on fire.

but now that you’re home, being greeted by your significant other — who looks so appealing after his shower, by the way — eases the discomfort a little bit. so you rush to get to him as fast as you can, shimmying out of your coat along the way, and dropping it in the middle of the hallway because you cannot even be bothered enough to hang it in its rightful place.

i mean, it’s not like it matters. one of you will pick it up later… probably.

and so, the soft pitter-patter of footsteps ensues.

despite watching you this entire time, kiba still lets out a little noise of startlement when you drop everything to collide with him and climb into his lap.

“aw… did my girl have a rough day?” he inquires playfully, smoothing down your hair when you finally stop squirming on top of him.

your arms wrap around his neck as you nod. “worst day ever, actually.”

“mm.” he gives you a moment while he considers the statement and how serious it is, offering you a chance to add more to it. but since you don’t, there’s a small pause before he asks, “wanna talk ‘bout it?”

“not really.” you blink, trying to ignore the weight that sits atop your eyelids. you’re just so tired and you feel so empty; work has been draining you like crazy. “maybe later.”

“okay,” is all he says, sensing that you don’t want him to push into the matter. “later, then.”

settled in, he strokes your back while he continues to watch the movie, listening and occasionally chuckling at the little sighs of displeasure that you keep letting out whenever he stops. his touch is loving and his palm is broad. it feels good whenever he drags it along the length of your spine that you’ve covered up with a thin white blouse. up and down — solace.

“i made dinner by the way,” he mumbles at some point. “it’s on the stove.”

“yeah?” this makes you perk up. food sounds nice; especially the promise of a warm meal that’s actually cooked instead of microwaved. “what did you make?”

“just some pasta. didn’t have time for somethin’ more fancy since i got off work later than usual, but i did make that sauce that you like.”

“ugh, thank you.” your gratitude shows in the way you rest your forehead against his shoulder and hug him tighter. “did you do the dishes too?”

briefly faltering, he says, “i loaded up the dishwasher… does that count?”

it draws a little laugh out of you. “lazy ass.”

“shush.”

you obey for once, deciding to stay quiet when he shushes you. long moments of comfortable silence pass once more; there’s nothing to fill the quiet except for the TV.

nuzzling into the crook of his neck so that you can hide your face from the world, you inhale that deep, almost spicy scent that is so unique to him and only him, before you press a gentle kiss right on top of his pulse point, disturbing its calm rhythm and urging it into something just a little bit faster.

for as long as you can remember, kiba has always been extremely responsive to you, even at the simplest of pecks aimed at his neck. but doing it one time isn’t nearly enough, so you tug on the collar of his t-shirt to get better access and kiss it again. and again.

by the fourth time, he feels the need to readjust in his seat and to wrap his hands around your hips.

“you trying to tell me something?” he mumbles, paying attention to how you drag your teeth over his sweet spot every so often now.

his eyes flutter shut at the sensation and squeeze when you part your lips wider and your teeth finally sink into the skin. the bite isn’t nearly as deep as the one he’d be able to give you, taking his sharp canines into consideration, but it does feel just as good nevertheless.

it makes his toes curl against the carpet and a deep exhale escape his mouth. his body tingles with growing warmth that starts in the pit of his stomach, slowly awakening and buzzing with what he guesses is lewd anticipation.

“no,” you reply, your voice slipping into something deeper; more sultry as you continue your ministrations. “just wanna kiss you a little bit… i missed you.”

the smile in his voice is as audible as ever as he says, “is that so?”

you suck on his neck extra hard in answer — it’s not strong enough to leave a hickey, but it does make his cock twitch in his underwear as blood rushes below his waist.

before he can say anything or act like a smartass, your fingers tangle into his hair. it’s thick and rich; the chestnut curls fill your hands as you slide them to the back of his head and tug at the roots.

a small grunt escapes him at that, planting a small kernel of pride within your chest which begins to bloom rather quickly. he leans back against the backrest of the couch, letting you touch him however you wish because he plans on doing the same.

his hands slip underneath your skirt, familiar and skillful. he bunches it up, causing wrinkles to appear in the fabric as he exposes your thighs, then your ass. he gropes the plush flesh then, squeezing and caressing; making the soft cotton of your panties stretch with the action.

the touching eventually makes you start to grind against him, and after spending so many years together, your bodies have learned to move as one during it. when he bucks his hips up, yours press down. when your back arches, his hand fills the empty space along the curve.

it’s as simple as breathing.

your feet are tucked underneath you and are propped on his knees, white thigh-high socks rubbing against his sweatpants. warm wetness pools between your legs as you rub your clothed pussy against the bulge that’s now become quite apparent despite the layers of clothes keeping you from each other. even your panties succeed in stimulating your clit.

you smile as you reach between you so that you can wrap your hand around the ridge of his cock and begin to stroke it the exact way he likes it.

meanwhile, kiba huffs and busies himself with kissing the small patch of uncovered skin near your collarbone. if you’re not careful, he might just end up ripping your pretty blouse so that his mouth and hands can reach your tits — lord knows it wouldn’t be the first time. he’s never been patient enough to work with so many dainty buttons, especially when he’s horny out of his fucking mind.

it’s the reason why you push him back against the backrest with the help of your fingers digging into his chest. why you kiss him gently when he looks at you with big, lovesick pupils and a prominent blush tinting his cheeks.

gosh, you want to marry this man.

“what’s wrong?” his exhale is laboured as he rasps the words, signature drawl instantly coming forward. his voice is so deep and riddled with want that it makes your pussy clench around nothing. you can’t wait to have him inside you.

“nothing’s wrong,” you reply, fingers working to unbutton your blouse. “i just wanna get this off real quick.”

“lemme help,” he says as he reaches for you, but you’re quick to slap his hand away.

“no, you’ll ruin it just like you ruined the last one.” another kiss is given, this time an apologetic one that’s aimed at his forehead. “just sit there and look pretty while i handle this, okay?”

surprisingly, he does. granted, he’s terribly impatient as he waits; you can feel his knee bouncing underneath you and his piercing stare burning holes into your face, but by the time the blouse and the bra are both tossed to the side, he’s been obedient enough to earn himself a reward.

“wanna sit on it now, ki,” you mumble, the corners of your lips twitching upwards again as you watch him suck your nipple into his mouth the second it’s exposed.

his nose smushes against the fat of your breast while his hand gropes the other, thumb swiping over the bud, making you even more sensitive than you already are since your period is about to pay you a visit soon. and as if that wasn’t enough already, whenever you feel the tips of his sharp fangs graze your skin, it sends exciting adrenaline coursing your veins.

“c’mon,” you insist, “you’ll get to do that later.”

he kisses your nipple softly when you push him back again, and blows on the saliva he’s left there so that he can watch you shiver.

it’s why he’s practically musing as he says, “okay, sweetheart.”

you work together so that he can pull his sweatpants low enough for his cock to become free. after a couple of more kisses and strokes, you use your own saliva instead of getting up to venture off for lube, and guide him inside you with the help of your hand, while his keeps your panties tucked to the side.

connected at long last, you both let out faint sounds of pleasure. it’s nice; warm and wet. it makes you want to kiss each other silly from how in love you are.

“you wanna take over or should i?” he asks, chocolate brown eyes glued to where your clit kisses his dark pubic hair now. besides dripping with your own arousal, you’ve also used so much spit that the hairs glisten with moisture. he thinks it’s hot as hell.

“mm, you do it,” you utter softly, sighing. “i’m too tired to even exist right now, much less ride you.”

“tsch… and then you have the nerve to call me the lazy one,” he teases with a click of his tongue against his teeth, but immediately wraps his arms around you so that he can bring you closer to his chest.

you let out a soft little whimper when he draws his hips back and ruts them into you slowly, making another wave of pleasure wash over your body, replacing the badness that was gathering throughout the day.

kiba is a good boyfriend.

you can trust him to rail the negativity out of you.