#i see the line he's toeing and i respect it though -- i think we should just let Sam speak about things like he KNOWS okay

[emberphantom]

 “...That’s another reason why this Soap and Ghost relationship works, right--is that, for whatever reason, y’know--that doesn’t need to be talked abut now...but--Ghost has, well it’s clear that Ghost has a huge amount of respect for Soap, right? And he wouldn’t let anybody--in fact, for anybody else to talk to him the way Soap does would mean a different thing--but they’ve been through a lot together. But what’s great about that moment--and I’m glad you brought it up Neil-- it that [Ghost and Soap] are pushing each other to evolve without even realizing it. And for Soap to say something like that costs something for him. And for Ghost to correct the record and say what he says, that costs something too. And I think, again, that’s why this game is so satisfying is these characters--they’re going to places they’ve not been before. But they help each other get there. And I think that’s a good theme that’s come out from this game is that, you know, they need each other.” 

-Samuel Roukin on Ghost and Soap in MWII (x)

Honestly, one of my favorite parts of that interview from yesterday. Not even from a shipping stand point, but Samuel just like seems to get it when it comes to what makes Ghost and Soap scratch at everyone’s brains and I think that’s awesome. 

[jelzorz]

162.

It’s not what Opeli expected. Not in the least. Soren has a good heart, and has always had a good heart, even if it had been buried under the facade of a bully once upon a time, but she had certainly never counted on him wheedling his way into her office, and then her heart, and then her bed. He has aged well, at least, and the maturity suits him. His hair is a dirtier blonde than it used to be, his shoulders broad and taught with muscle, the boyishness in his face replaced by the shadow of stubble and the sharp line of his jaw.

He is handsome. He is kind. He is the warmth she had long thought she would never need. And though she is convinced that, eventually, he will find someone younger and far more beautiful than she, for now, he finds his way to her without fail and without eyes for anyone else.

The first time, she had lain there afterwards and wondered how it happened: how she’d found herself undressed in a bed not her own, her hood and circlet cast aside in the pile of clothes on the floor. The act itself was gentle, tentative, pleasurable, certainly—Soren's hands were practised and skilful, and he'd been sure to make sure she was taken care of before he took the time to focus on himself.

They barely spoke after. What was there to say? Opeli had pulled herself together before the sun found the horizon and disappeared before she could dwell on it any longer. “It was a mistake,” she’d said. “It can’t happen again,” she’d said.

But it has, more than just a handful of times, and many times since, it was she who came to him.

What can she call it now? A tryst? An affair? A scandal? A secret, at the very least, but regardless, these are words that she had never thought would ever be associated with her.

This evening, he is in her quarters again, and there is mischief in his smile.

“Would you be interested in trying something a little different?”

Opeli raises an eyebrow at him. She is fresh from the bath, her hair still wet and her robe tugged tightly over her body as if there’s anything left to hide. His eyes are appreciative, but respectful, and even after all the times they’ve done this, the way he looks at her still makes her face feel warm. “Different how?”

He sets a roll of satin against her dresser. “For your eyes,” he says.

Opeli’s breath catches in her throat. She is not a particularly adventurous partner, in part because she does not have the same experience, in part because she is still, by all means, High Cleric. Most of their assignations are actually quite tame—if you can call something hushed and hurried on her desk or against his chamber door tame. But the thought of a blindfold—of not being able to see him and what he's doing...

Warmth floods her cheeks and she swallows, trying not to think about the tug in her belly, the way her breath is suddenly so shallow, the way her toes curl against the floor.

Soren catches her hesitation, the beginnings of a frown creasing his brow, but she shakes her head before he can say anything about it. "Perhaps," she says, hoping her voice isn't as strangled as it sounds. "I've never..."

She doesn't finish. She doesn't have to. He knows.

He pauses, ever the gentleman, always more concerned about her and what she wants more than he is about anything else. “We don't have to—"

"I'm open to it," she says. "I trust you." And to prove it, she steps towards him and sets his hands on the tie of her robe. She has never considered herself a small woman, but it feels like he towers over her these days, and the broadness of his shoulders make her hands look tiny in comparison, especially with his armour still on. “It can even be for you, if you prefer.”

His lips tug upwards, wolfish, playful. Opeli’s face grows warmer still. “You first.”

Opeli allows herself a chuckle. “So you insist, every time.”

“So I should.” He tugs her to him, her chest flush against his. “What kind of gentleman doesn’t take care of his lady first?”

She laughs. “Well, I should count myself lucky then,” she says, dancing the tips of her fingers along the edges of his armour. “To gain the favour of a knight such as you?”

Soren snorts, his eyes bright, and presses a kiss to the palm of her hand. “It’s always my pleasure, my lady.”

[itookyoudown]

For the character ask game will you do the whole Lexington team?

i accept this challenge 😈

let's do this speedrun style.

LEXINGTON LAWMEN LET'S GO

Art

How I feel about this character: he's ... all right! i think he's perfect for his role in the show and he's got some nice little details (the hearing aids, his relationship with leslie & family, etc) and he has some great lines. S2's Blaze of Glory is FASCINATING for him and is my favorite Art episode ... that ending with Frank!! dksjfks both sad and funny and wow what an entirely human true neutral way to approach the outlaw VS lawman cat and mouse dynamic 10/10 no notes. we also get some interesting glimpses at his inner darkness + capacity for violence in him that's ... hm now that's very interesting (that time he smacked Boyd with the bible, the interrogation with the phonebook, him decking Raylan, etc) but i think overall he falls too much in line with the "Police Chief" character archetype. since Justified is a western masquerading as a police show, Art should have felt more like a sheriff but he didn't. Raylan was the sheriff of the show. though as Justified always does with their characters they gave Art a lot more personality and layers than LEO shows usually give their big boss characters. i also LOVE that Art's hope and trust in Raylan is FOREVER dashed and is never repaired during the show, such a great twist on what usually happens with the chief and their cowboy subordinate.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: ...well...i wouldn't call it "romantic" but i think we deserve at least one fucked up gross Art/Tim dead dove daddy issues smut fic, as a treat (for me) 🤡

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Art & Raylan. his odd almost-surrogate father/son dynamic where he literally disowns Raylan during the show is goddamn great and i never tire of it on rewatches of the show. i really wish we'd see it explored more in fic.

My unpopular opinion about this character: i don't think there's enough opinions on Art for anything said about his character to be unpopular, but ... i think Art had one gay experience when he was younger like @praycambrian's Art and stanley tucci fic is just canon to me.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: more Art & Tim interaction!! remember when Tim gets mouthy and bratty and Art verbally lays into him with a DON'T BE A SMART ASS??!! yeah i needed to have more of Tim toe-ing the chain of command and Art putting him back behind the line, please.

Rachel

How I feel about this character: she's cool! i like Rachel, but i don't love Rachel. she's just too prim and professional and filling the role of The Lawful Good Lawman to spark any fandom brainworms in me. she has my respect though. i still adored her place within the show, however. badass lady black marshal that's good at her fucking job and doesn't backdown in the face of assholes!! get it. the ways she was able to clap back on racist bullshit without the writers falling down a preachy rabbit hole for her was also chef's kiss.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Rachel/OMC and Rachel/Raylan as a treat (for her). sorry lesbian or bi Rachel truthers, that's a straight woman. in my head, after Rachel becomes the Seattle marshal she begins seeing a black man who works some sort of legal practice job with a divorce under his belt as well. they eventually married and live as Dog Parents Ever After 😌

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Rachel & Nick. loved her relationship with her nephew, she's done right by him and stepped up for her family i think Nick is going to be okay, i really think he's going to end up happy and Rachel structure & support is a big part of that.

My unpopular opinion about this character: the best Rachel fic(s) in existence is connect the dots by larkingstock. i don't care that it's Rachel/Tim fic btw once upon a time i read all the Tim fics that existed on the internet and that's how i discovered this brilliant Rachel-centric fic. never read a fic that shines such a spotlight on her sexuality, her emotions, and her wishes before while givng her a real narrative voice. also, the writing quality and style is romance novel level. 10/10 no notes.

not a fan of the Rachel & Tim bestie agenda. respectfully, they are work colleagues at best but i prefer Rachel filling a former mentor & then a boss role to Tim. he calls her ma'am with a little too much respect for them to be true pals.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: what the fuck happened with her divorce!! hello?? we only had a QUICK PEEK into Rachel's tragic & chaotic family life (dad dead from cancer, troubled sister dead, co-raising her nephew with her mother??!!) and i desperately wish we'd gotten a follow-up on what was going on there. our gal had hidden depths and i wanted to see more. they dropped the ball with the lawmen side of the plots in season 5/6 so we were also denied a deeper look at Rachel being the acting chief RIP :(

Tim

How I feel about this character: i'm not normal about this dude :) he's my blorbo my fan favorite my ascended supported character my baby boy my lil man timmy guts slutterson my gay ranger sniper deputy marshal lawman heart of my heart apple of my eye!! i just think he's neat. everything we see about him in canon spurs a hundred and zillion headcanons in my head, can never stop thinking about him. he's a character i project hard on and i love working out my various personal issues by tormenting him with them. ty for your service 'lil mister.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: everything he's my little black dress of the fandom. givenson, mostly. but also boyd/raylan/tim, boyd/tim, colt/tim, boyd/colt/tim, quarles/tim. i even ship him in things that has no tag yet. where is the wynn duffy/tim fic?! i need dan/raylan/tim in miami fic!!

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Tim & Mark. i liked the canon portrayal for them and don't find it romantic or sexual at all. i really do think they were just war buddy pals.

My unpopular opinion about this character: he would not have been out as a gay man circa 2010. i sometimes ... feel ... his service history & career as a LEO isn't factored into fic characterizations and how that's gonna fuck up his ability to accept himself as a gay man and how that might even give him a hostile relationship with the LGBT community at large. i will never i cannot personally vibe with smoothing down the sharp points of Tim's characterization and history to make him more palatable to a younger audience. i don't care for queernorm-ing and the soft boy aesthetics.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: that they spent SO MUCH time setting up his powder-keg arc and then did a whole bunch of nothing with it. we should have seen him BLOW sky high (and should have seen him blowing other men who said that).

Raylan

How I feel about this character: i'm normal about him (lying through my teeth). i love raylan, okay?? he makes me bonkers in a variety of different ways. he's my comfort character!! thinking about him comforts me.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: givenson, mainly. i also ship him with boyd in a very very VERY selective way AKA it has to be toxic and weird and dom4dom. also love putting him with both Boyd and Tim at once ala Crowgivenson. i also wrote the only Dan/Raylan fic but also took it down a while back, still ship them hardcore though only way to explain why Dan is so fucking fond of Raylan.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Raylan & Loretta. no she is NOT his daughter and those are not a parent/child dynamic. Raylan sees HIMSELF in Loretta, he is being the protective supportive adult to her that HE needed as a child. helping her heals his inner wounded child. Loretta is a mirror to a younger Raylan with a twist of female trauma. it's a funhouse mirror into his past.

My unpopular opinion about this character: he's a daddy dom sorry to the haters but that's what he is in my heart. me and the other justies into that are gonna keep being happy about it in our corner of the fictional sandbox 🖤

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: don't like the becoming a dad plotline, sorry. his romance with winona was eye-roll more to me and when they had winona get pregnant i put my face in my palms and groaned. wish it hadn't happened and they had given him a juicy career focus instead. the only saving grace to the whole dad thing is how both Justified and JCP stayed true to Raylan's character and portrayed him as being a crappy father.

(give me a character ask meme)

[deva-arts]

It's nice to see Sarah be a good parent. I personally want to see more of Nathaniel as a father. Is he kind? strict?

Nathaniel loves Sophie to bits, and is a doting father that borders on spoiling her too much. He knows what the baby is crying about, how to deal with a tantrum or stubbed toe... The issue ironically lies in his hindsight.

He will try to be strict and enforce rules, but Sophia has such a precious thought process behind her behavior that makes it a bit hard to not just get her what she wants. Sure, she drew on the walls, but she wanted to make a mural to make her family happy... Hey, how about we make this one square a drawing wall? You're such an artist! I love you!

So Sera has to crack down on some of the more egregious green lights on Nate's end. No, we cannot get a cat. No, we are not getting a dog either. No, you aren't going to fly today, you have schoolwork. No, you can't get Vincent to do it for you. Sera feels some type of way about being the one who shuts down her proposals, and... It hurts to see that her daughter stops going to her to request things. Does she view Sera as too strict? Is she the bad guy to her own daughter? where was the trust she held before? It's never easy delivering unwanted news.

She has a serious talk with Nathaniel about this because clearly they take different approaches to rearing children, and she doesn't want to keep feeling like her daughter finds her unsupportive. While Nathaniel's idea is "set ground rules but let the child be encouraged in their endeavors to see what blooms from there, even if some eggs are broken in the process", Sera's idea is "Raise the child with discipline so that she can grow to be responsible, well rounded, and educated while also respecting the home."

Sera takes her parenting style from her mother (and to Sera, harsh training was what helped her survive in torturous ordeals she would face later.) She considers proper formation to be paramount to success, and has little idea of what a properly nurturing mother should be. Her idea of love is discipline. Her idea of care is making you self-sufficient. This is something that has remained a constant in her life. Even the weakest character can be molded into a precious yet lethal instrument. Sophie can use that instrument to forge her own path.

Nathaniel takes his parenting style from his lack of parental figures. To him, he considers his past life's tendencies and complexes to have stemmed from no proper guidance or prompting to be kind towards others. He was raised to be a faceless manipulator, and that's what he became. He thinks, "Maybe things would have been different if someone had pushed me in the right direction. Told me there were better things I could do with myself." His idea of love is being sweet and supportive, and his idea of care is giving Sophie what he never had. Children are not clay, and he is no longer a fan of moulding others. She can grow outside of the world he and Sera are chained to.

Nate loves teaching her how to shift, and Sera takes a soft, mirthful sort of joy in teaching her how to fly. They both work on educational planning on late nights, and the others have somehow butted themselves in. Sonia loves doing basic arts and crafts with her, Vincent proudly shows her times tables before she's six, Eric tries his best to help her learn how to breakdance with wings, and Amon teaches her how to swim. It takes a village, right?

Sera can be too hard, and Nathaniel can be too soft. Sera wants to make her succeed through forging by fire, and Nathaniel wants her to pursue success by her terms, though this open aired freedom could easily set for poor behavior down the line. Sera has trouble being as affectionate as Nathaniel, while Nathaniel has trouble trying to shape her. But one thing rings true- they reinforce the other's weak points, and do their best to make Sophie have a fulfilled life. Because they love her with all their heart.

[the-furthest-city-light]

Writing Patterns Tag Game

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!

I was tagged for this by @sciencemyfiction and it looks super fun! I am going to cheat a little bit tho and post only from my One Piece fics as I haven't published anything else since 2018 and I think the writing sample will be more representative of my current styl

Flotsam and Jetsam

"When Big Mom's crew arrives on Zou, Sanji's first thought is, Damn, we didn't fuck 'em up enough before?"

Here I am cheating AGAIN because this line is actually from chapter 2 of Flotsam and Jetsam, "Instead of the Cross, the Albatross," but IN MY DEFENSE it's the only chapter of that fic that was meant to be its own standalone fic. The rest of those chapters are just things I didn't want to consign forever to the desolation of my scrapped file.

2. Found in the Crack of Your Palm

"'Oi, Luffy,' Zoro calls.  He punctuates his bid for Luffy’s attention by toeing his hip with his heavy boot."

3. New Seas Ahead (chapter 1)

“Oh come on.  Please?”

4. spill your wine

"Zoro’s had a shower and a nap and three platefuls of food before the scent of his new captain really hits him."

5. Same Song, Different Verse

"The first time Zoro sees Monkey D. Lucy, the sky is a hard, clear blue and the earth is packed dense beneath his feet."

6. New Seas Ahead (chapter 28)

"How is she doing that though?”

“It’s a mystery, Usopp.”

“She’s like a human trash compactor…”

7. New Seas Ahead (chapter 27)

"The oniwabanshu should have an easier time following them in the snow, but they don’t see another attack after Hakumai."

8. New Seas Ahead (chapter 26)

"When he wakes up, Zoro’s surprisingly not feeling like complete shit."

9. New Seas Ahead (chapter 25)

"Tama turns out to be fine, which is a relief.  And she eats the oshiruko well when they convince her to actually accept it."

10. New Seas Ahead (chapter 24)

"Are we there yet?"

I was actually super nervous to do this because hooks and opening lines are not my strong suit as a writer. My thoughts about the above are pretty much what I already knew. I have a tendency to set the place of any given scene before anything else. It's present even at the start of fics/scenes where the lines aren't explicitly about the sense of place or setting, and I usually accomplish this by calling reference to some time or place that the reader, as a One Piece fan, will undoubtedly be very familiar with and will instantly be able to recall the wheres and whens of the given scene.

In part this is intentional because in the Fair Winds and Following seas series specifically I jump over or outright skip certain events and catching the reader up to where we are now as efficiently as possible is important. HOWEVER, I definitely have a tendency to over-rely on this strategy, which is something I'm definitely thinking about and considering as I've been writing some original fiction!

Alternatively, four of the above entries begin with outright dialogue which is, funnily enough, my least favorite way to start a scene. I usually do it for the sake of a joke and to set the tone and sometimes place which all of the above entries are with the exception of "Found in the Crack of Your Palm." Also Usopp is the one speaking in both 3 and 6. Probably because I try to include his dialogue wherever possible in Fair Winds because I struggle to insert him into the plot and he's good at setting a mood.

I do think the "best" of these opening lines are from "Same Song, Different Verse," and also "spill your wine." Both of them do the thing where I'm establishing place but they also manage to tie in some important sensory information which becomes thematic as their respective fics go on. Food for thought.

Thanks for tagging me, Dev! I'm tagging @faggotzoro, @acewithapaintbrush, @thricepiercedpirate, @thychesters and @zaharya!

[mariana-oconnor]

A Case of Identity pt 2

For all the preposterous hat and the vacuous face, there was something noble in the simple faith of our visitor which compelled our respect.

Watson... you're kind of a judgy bitch sometimes, y'know? It's really coming through in this story. I don't know why all the modern adaptations choose to make Holmes the rude one when clearly Watson's the one you really need to watch out for.

"Quite an interesting study, that maiden," he observed. "I found her more interesting than her little problem, which, by the way, is rather a trite one.

I know that Mary Sutherland is a fictional character, but in a Watsonian reading, she's going to have to live in a world where people read all these descriptions of her and her problem. I should try to avoid thinking of that.

I can never bring you to realise the importance of sleeves, the suggestiveness of thumb-nails, or the great issues that may hang from a boot-lace.

Ah yes, thumbnails, the most suggestive of body parts. Be careful posting a picture of them on Tumblr, your post will be automatically flagged as mature content!

She had small round, hanging gold earrings, and a general air of being fairly well-to-do in a vulgar, comfortable, easy-going way.

Seriously, Watson, you're publishing this. Stop being a dick about it. We get it, you don't think much of her appearance. My dude.

"'Pon my word, Watson, you are coming along wonderfully. You have really done very well indeed. It is true that you have missed everything of importance, but you have hit upon the method, and you have a quick eye for color."

Aw, Holmes is proud. Albeit in the same way of a parent of a toddler presented with a picture of an unidentifiable blob made of different colours. 'Oh, what lovely colours, Watson. It's lovely. You're really coming along well!'

The double line a little above the wrist, where the typewritist presses against the table, was beautifully defined. The sewing-machine, of the hand type, leaves a similar mark, but only on the left arm, and on the side of it farthest from the thumb, instead of being right across the broadest part, as this was. I then glanced at her face, and, observing the dint of a pince-nez at either side of her nose, I ventured a remark upon short sight and typewriting, which seemed to surprise her.

Ah yes, the explanation. Sherlock showing off. But I do enjoy these bits.

though the boots which she was wearing were not unlike each other, they were really odd ones; the one having a slightly decorated toe-cap, and the other a plain one

I have actually done this before. I want through an entire day of work with odd boots on and only realised when I looked down at my feet on the train on the way home. The heels were pretty much the same size, and they were both black and zipped up, in my defence, but it was still pretty bad. That was about where the similarities ended. Very embarrassing and I still have no idea how I did it. I don't even know if anyone noticed, though. Certainly no one at work mentioned it. But were they just being polite?

Holmes would have a field day, I guess.

You observed that her right glove was torn at the forefinger, but you did not apparently see that both glove and finger were stained with violet ink.

And I thought you said he had a good eye for colour, Holmes? Were you lying? Were you just humouring him?

"My dear fellow, is it possible you do not see how strongly it bears upon the case?"

I'm pretty sure Watson is the only one at this point who does not know what's going on.

The only drawback is that there is no law, I fear, that can touch the scoundrel.

And as far as I'm aware, there still isn't. Technically, as they didn't get married, no crime was enacted. Her promise isn't legally binding. It's definitely abuse, but I don't think there are technically any laws broken as the subterfuge was performed not to get money, but to prevent them from no longer getting her money.

a bland, insinuating manner

Just the wording of this makes my skin crawl a bit. I think it's the word insinuating, a very snake-like word.

It was quite against my wishes that she came, but she is a very excitable, impulsive girl, as you may have noticed, and she is not easily controlled when she has made up her mind on a point.

Classic moves: discredit the character of the abuse victim. Oh, she's so excitable, so impulsive. You don't want to listen to her, it's all a flight of fancy, Mr Holmes. Such a silly woman.

"We do all our correspondence with this machine at the office, and no doubt it is a little worn," our visitor answered, glancing keenly at Holmes with his bright little eyes.

Laying the groundwork for reasonable doubt. This man is a piece of work. Also, Watson's judgy descriptions are working for me this time. So close to 'beady little eyes'.

Mr Windibank sprang out of his chair and picked up his hat. "I cannot waste time over this sort of fantastic talk, Mr Holmes," he said. "If you can catch the man, catch him, and let me know when you have done it."

Mr Windibank, sir. You know the jig is up. Give up already!

"Certainly," said Holmes, stepping over and turning the key in the door. "I let you know, then, that I have caught him!" "What! Where?" shouted Mr Windibank, turning white to his lips and glancing about him like a rat in a trap.

One thing that can be said for Mr Windibank is that he really does commit to the bit. I have zero respect for him as a human being, and honestly, it's absolutely destroying his dignity, but he is committed. He is seeing this through? Hosmer Angel? He has never met the man. No idea what you're talking about.

But between ourselves, Windibank, it was as cruel and selfish and heartless a trick in a petty way as ever came before me.

Yep. You can say that again.

Holmes stuck his feet up on the corner of the mantelpiece and, leaning back with his hands in his pockets, began talking, rather to himself, as it seemed, than to us.

He stuck his feet on the mantelpiece? Sir. That is too high up. Sir... How is that comfortable? The mantelpiece? Seriously Sherlock?

With the connivance and assistance of his wife he disguised himself

Ah, there it is. Her mother did know too. I actually dislike her mother more. Doing that to your daughter is just... ugh. Like yes, yes, evil stepfather was the mastermind and main agent of the enterprise, but to assist in it. With your own daughter. Ugh ugh ugh. That's despicable. I hope Mary cuts her off forever.

"The law cannot, as you say, touch you," said Holmes, unlocking and throwing open the door, "yet there never was a man who deserved punishment more. If the young lady has a brother or a friend, he ought to lay a whip across your shoulders. By Jove!" he continued, flushing up at the sight of the bitter sneer upon the man's face, "it is not part of my duties to my client, but here's a hunting crop handy, and I think I shall just treat myself to—"

This is very satisfying to read. Also grateful that Holmes agrees with me on this point. Although I think Mary should be allowed a whip... as a treat.

"That fellow will rise from crime to crime until he does something very bad, and ends on a gallows."

I like how certain Holmes is that Windibank isn't going to be a better person.

Then the fact that the two men were never together, but that the one always appeared when the other was away, was suggestive.

Just like thumbnails.

"And Miss Sutherland?"

"If I tell her she will not believe me. You may remember the old Persian saying, 'There is danger for him who taketh the tiger cub, and danger also for whoso snatches a delusion from a woman.' There is as much sense in Hafiz as in Horace, and as much knowledge of the world."

This is not satisfying. I remembered the solution to the problem, but I didn't remember that he just got away with it. Mary's just going to... do exactly what Windibank wanted? And keep living with her odious mother and her abusive stepfather? I do not vibe with this. I do not vibe with this at all. Not even a note from Watson to say that Windibank did indeed hang from the gallows for a future crime and Mary Sutherland got away?

I find myself longing for the equinoctial gales to drop a ship on his house (when Mary is elsewhere).

Horrible people committing horrible, immoral acts that cannot be stopped. This whole story is like a layer of scum on top of water, it's such insidious, cold-hearted petty evil. Mary Sutherland deserves better.

Honestly, I hope she (in universe) did read this story and gtfo.

[im-someone-i-guess]

bunnies and blood

a jurdan fic by ryhanna

word count: 1540

There was a stark line between fashionably atrocious and offensively atrocious when one wore feathers. After another tiring day spent listening to their subject's business, Cardan was dragged off to see a burrow of bunnies by his beloved wife.

prompt: "They skive off a day hearing subjects' business. Then they play with rabbits instead.." requested by seillean

There was a stark line between fashionably atrocious and offensively atrocious when one wore feathers. This faerie wasn’t just toe-ing it, she had already ventured far past it, unbeknownst of the degree of ugliness she was at. Cardan had always thought his love of feathers were already unbearable, these thoughts fueled by Jude’s frown every time Cardan brought out an article of clothing that even had the mere suggestion of a feather. But this was just…absurd.

Dozens of feathers had been tucked into this faerie’s dark hair, in varying shades of blue. Then, there were hundreds of tiny ones lining the neckline of her bodice, and thousands making up her full skirt. Subtly, Cardan risked a look at his wife, eager to see her scandalised expression. And indeed she did not disappoint. Her features were twisted in a familiar scowl, one of disbelief at this lady’s gall at showing up in such a dress.

“Your Majesties,” the faerie greeted, lowering her lithe figure into a low bow. At the movement, the feathers rustled, a distracting sight. “I am Lady Dowager Van Mal, of the newly raised Land of Insmoor.”

Cardan raised an eyebrow, waiting. Though it was incredibly hard to keep a straight face, with the breeze ruffling the countless feathers, Cardan managed it. The winds were no doubt Jude’s work, some distraction as the faerie droned on and on about how her neighbour kept holding revels and parties that ruined her shrubberies. She had improved her magic, immensely, the one blessing from her weekly lessons with some tutor from Insweal.

“Very well, we will review your problem though I must ask if you may have thought of other alternatives?” Jude asked, leaning forward from her throne. Her eyelashes were brushing against her cheeks, a subtle sign that she was completely uninterested. She liked being high queen, Cardan knew, but this was an aspect of ruling that she much disliked. This was Cardan’s forte, he was supposed to be the one more involved right now.

He could feel Jude’s insistent glances as she resumed advising the lady dowager. “Perhaps the two of you may find a compromise, negotiate the terms with your neighbour to… reduce the revels.”

“But Your Majesty, I do not want those revels reduced, I want them diminished, ended, gone!” As she spoke her hysterical outburst, the feathers in her hair swayed even more, hypnotising Cardan in a trance. “My king, what do you say?” And those feathers turned to him, as with the faerie’s expectant eyes.

Only then did Cardan drag himself to the present, to the lady of a thousand feathers, he had already forgotten her name. “I agree with my wife, as should you, Lady…?” he drew out the word in a bored drawl. If she would not respect Jude, then Cardan wouldn’t respect her either, not that she deserved any ounce of it.

“Lady Dowager Van Mal,” she said. Though now her fire had died down, replaced by the dawning realisation that she had made a mistake, one that would cost her dearly. Swiftly, she turned back to Jude, dropping to her knees as she kissed the ground. “Apologies, my queen, I did not mean to yell, or dismiss your suggestion or-”

“Hush,” Jude told her, barely concealing her rolled eyes. “You have wasted enough of our time. Yours is a problem that should be settled with your neighbour. Spare us your endless tirade and your overbearing feathery presence.”

Cardan sensed she had been twirling the last sentence within her head, and Cardan wholeheartedly agreed. He did not think he could ever view feathers without envisioning this faerie and her discontent frown. The guards hoisted her up from the ground and Cardan saw, with an amused grin, that the lady was looking hopefully at Cardan, as if he would swoop in and become her saving grace.

She was decidedly wrong, no one dared to question High Queen Jude’s word, not even the High King, especially the High King. So when Jude suddenly stood up when the guard asked if they would be receiving more petitioners, or prisoners or visitors, none questioned her when she announced that they would be done for the day. Nor did a single faerie interrupt her when she took Cardan’s hand, yanked him off his seat and started dragging him to no one knows where.

“Where are we going?” Cardan finally asked. They had just passed the gates, the sentinels letting them pass without a word. Sometimes he wondered if they would even let Jude kill him in cold blood and simply resume going on with their day. “Jude, where are you bringing us?”

“Bomb tells me there is colony of bunnies hidden within a burrow nearby, I want to see them,” she replied, a jovial tone to each step as she brought them further from the leering palace. Cardan was glad to see them leaving, he was long tired of their days spent within the walls, constantly watched, constantly accompanied. They were for his safety, his knights told him but Cardan only felt further on guard by their presence, there was the need to pretend. The only security he would ever need was Jude being there by his side, wafting out an intimidating air that warded off anyone unwanted.

“It’s such a shame that your dress has to be destroyed in this pursuit though,” Cardan said, mournfully looking at her gown. The delicate saffron was stained by mud and grass, dragging across the ground with each step Jude took. Though Jude was anything but vain, Cardan took up that role, determined to be vain enough to sustain the both of them. So he took every stain, tear and wrinkle as a personal offence, being vocal enough to eventually annoy Jude into changing her clothes into something pristine. But he supposed this time he would just have to…swallow it.

“Your boots are equally dirty, and from the smell, I suspect you’ve stepped on some pile of turd,” Jude replied coldly. She was far ahead now, eyes casted down, combing the grass for the bunnies she hoped to find. “Maybe you should’ve summoned a ragwort pony.”

“I would’ve if only you’d given me at least a moment’s notice, I could’ve-” Cardan almost tripped over Jude’s skirts, almost tumbling them both down the hill. “What in Queen Mab’s name are you-”

Jude shushed him, jabbing a sharp elbow in his stomach without so much as a glance back. She had drawn Nightfell, he noticed, the sword glinting in the daylight. Cardan hadn’t even noticed the sun rise, how had he missed the whole of dawn?

“There,” she whispered, pointing at a suspicious monster, barely visible within the cluster of trees. Cardan saw the faint profile of horns, and a large body.

Though frequently pestered by Jude, and then some more by Roach to brandish himself with blades of all sorts as they have, Cardan had paid them no heed. Most times, Jude would strap a holstered knife to his thigh anyway, disguising the act by a scandalous kiss. This time, she had not, and if they made it out alive, which they most likely would, Cardan would have to endure hours of Jude’s lecture about the importance of always being armed.

And in his need for her to simply stop and use that mouth for other more pleasant things, Cardan would do something idiotic and agree. Jude would never let him live it down, he would be reminded of it every hour, every minute, every second of the day.

“You wait here and if it comes at you…” Jude conjured a dagger from a hidden sheath, shoving it into Cardan’s hand. He was about to protest but the monster had already launched himself from the shadows, just as Jude ran to meet it in the middle. With seven unending smooth arcs of her sword, Jude slayed the beast, spraying its blood and guts all over the green grass, colouring it scarlet. She was magnificent, Cardan decided, though this was already established long ago.

Ensuring the beast was really dead, Cardan then ran down the hill, grinning at Jude, passing her her knife. She looked unfazed by the gore, smiling pleasantly as she took the blade and resumed her search.

~

It was only an hour later did they find the burrow, inconspicuously marked by dandelions, a signature of Bomb’s. Jude grinned with glee when they peeked from their hole, curiously glancing up at Jude as they sniffed her awaiting hand. Then, it completely jumped at Jude, followed by another, then another, then another.

“Their mother had been attacked by some fox, Bomb said. So now she tends to them when she has time, bringing them all sorts of foods she sneaks from the palace.” By now, the monster’s blood had long dried, slowly flaking off of Jude’s dress. It was a blessing, to not have them stain the bunnies’ snow-white fur. “Oh, this is a welcome reprieve from the events at court,” Jude sighed.

And glancing up at his wife, her dress stained with mud and her hair dusted with blood, with tiny bunnies hopping around her, demanding her attention, Cardan could only agree. “Indeed, this is a welcome reprieve.”

[dearestaeneas]

a mini-series of short horror stories, inspired by the fears my friends have shared with me. [SPECIAL!]

I’ve debated uploading this one for a while now, and if it even counts under the categorization I’ve created for myself with this mini-series. This one is for me! The conflict I feel with it is that it isn’t necessarily a fear, but it falls in line with a lot of the themes I like to add to my horror! So who can really say. (Me. And I can only say “I’m conflicted” so many times before one of you comes and beats me to death with a hammer. So here we are).

My other issue here is the fact that in my duties as a real life freelance archivist (every day I appreciate how funny my title is) I’ve been relistening to/finally properly finishing Magnus, and I hit MAG 74: Fatigue and went, “oh, fuck, @jonnywaistcoat wrote about my own thing better than me” and had that all-too-human experience of remembering You Have Never Had An Original Thought. [I say, as if being Jonny Sims when I grow up isn’t the goal. Why else would I take the chance of bothering that cool guy like this. Get REAL]

But anyway! Here’s my own thing! Maybe eventually I’ll do an actual fear of mine! Something else is coming on Halloween, so take this now! Consider it a way to celebrate TMA 2! Wheeee!

---

The man downstairs isn’t my friend. I feel that I should start with that, above all else. What we have isn’t friendship.

I don’t remember when I first met him, although I do remember the first time I saw him downstairs. It was late, a time of day popular for stories such as this. Everyone was asleep. To be the only person awake in a slumbering house is a different kind of loneliness. A safety net exists, but utilizing it feels worse. You respect tiredness, you feel it yourself.

Tip-toe down the stairs, listen to their screaming protests despite your care. The lights in the living room are off, the hallway is black, and yet the pin-prick of light from the oven acts as a beacon. We glide through the hall towards that heavenly yellow-stained circle, thinking of the treats that await us: a full water bottle, maybe even a snack depending on our need for adventure at that moment. So enveloped in this walking dream, I almost didn’t see him. He sat at the kitchen table, between me and the light that was no longer warm and inviting. He was handsome, I think. A crisp black suit, a hauntingly white dress shirt. Dark hair. Forgettable.

Forgettable, and yet, I know him. Why do I know him? He watches. Are his eyes dark? They look like mine, I think. I think. He’s hard to ignore, but you do. Filling a water bottle, checking that the oven is OFF. You forgot once. You all forgot. Is the oven OFF? We go upstairs. He stays.

Every night. The house is quiet. Dead. You aren’t. I never talk to him. I think about it, though. Every night. I wonder what his voice sounds like. He always looks the same. Dark suit, perfect snow-white dress shirt, dark hair, familiar eyes. Blank face.

“What did you do today?” He asks. Our conversations are always mundane. “How did it go for us?” A smile. I don’t know his smile. I imagine it’s like the Cheshire Cat. “Not great,” I reply. “Good!” I replied. “I can’t do this,” I will reply.

I don’t think he wants to do this. I don’t think he wants this. I can’t let myself believe this is what he wants. I don’t know what our relationship is.

I no longer have a downstairs. He still sits at the kitchen table. What do I call him now? He sits. He watches. He whispers. We still don’t speak, and yet: “Are you sure?” “Tell me.” “Speak.”

Do I hate him? Do I need him?

He sits comfortably. If I were to sit and share a dinner, would I be comfortable? Most likely not. He is perfect. He is too at ease. This is not his home. I do not know this familiar man who has my eyes.

I would kill to be rid of him. The question of “who?” changes with the wind. Spite would say him. Justice would say him. Anger and despair and embarrassment would say him. He would say me. Self preservation is a concept he does not know. He only knows me. A kind of sadness fills your chest. The sadness of seeing a child lost in a grocery store- we pity helplessness. And yet, this child does not need me. This child does not care if I live or die. This child is simply using me, making me its vessel.

I do not know my relationship to the man downstairs.

[wandapinkay]

HIIIII it's friendly anon back again!! ヾ(ゝω・)ノ

the pleasure is all mine, i assure you! :D i was a bit apprehensive to drop in your inbox at first - since i'm not well-versed in self-shipping culture and ask culture on this site is tragically dead - but i got a cool new parasocial friendship out of it and i discovered a new and exciting way to consume media and enjoy characters, so i'm glad that i did!! \^o^/ it took me a long time to realize it, but i truly think self-shipping was the last piece of the puzzle that i was missing in my previous hyperfixations. so what if that man is fictional, what do you mean he can't be mine??

in other news, i've already gotten four of my friends to watch steins;gate and i also recently convinced my sister and her husband to give it a try! i have rewatched the entire show three times alone this month, i am fully insane 🙏

WAITTTT THOSE CATBOY EDITS ARE SO CUTE ACTUALLY 🥺🥺i'm so impressed with how authentic they look, how did you capture the steins;gate style so well?? the second one on particular looks so real, suddenly i'm convinced daru was a catboy the whole time and i just never noticed lol

MAD respect for that 200-unit daru pic collection btw, i've been deep-diving in the darkest corners of the internet for fanart of okabe and i have found some amazing comics featuring daru that made me think of you ( ¯ ³¯)♡! on that note, i've also seen some very sweet drawings of daru with baby suzuha which, out of curiosity, made me wonder what your thoughts on them are together as father and daughter! i adore them honestly, but i'm curious to know if you feel differently about them since you self-ship with daru! i've seen a couple selfshippers in another fandom i frequent who have drawn fankids with their f/o's before and that got me wondering since suzuha is a unique case :)

ASDFJAKSFKSF YES THAT WAS THE NAME OF THE VN idk why i called it that, i think someone else called it that in a reddit post-

nevertheless, my point stands. i cannot even begin to express my disappointment that we didn't get to see daru OR okabe in a maid outfit. heck, we didn't even get to see daru in his penguin suit (though the fact that he was really popular in it made me cackle)! i mean it when i say that if the devs hadn't been cowards and gave us frilly daru and okabe, i would not have looked even twice at the girls. the men yearn for the frills!!! \o/

wahhhh you really are so nice, i appreciate you a bunch :) :) and wow, i thought for sure you'd been part of the community for longer than a year, you seem so comfortable here! was it easy for you to get settled in the community? you've been so nice, but i'm a bit scared to dip my toes in the self-shipping tag if you have any advice👉👈 (thank you again for being so kind and accommodating!! ^^;)

I DID, I SAID THE LINE!! WHERE IS MY PRIZE

your message has been delivered and summarily ignored except for the kiss which he accepted with dignity :3

to sign off, i am blowing both you and daru a pair of friendly kisses! i wish you both a very good night AND OH MAN I ALMOST FORGOT IT'S VALENTINE'S DAY IN TWO DAYS??? in that case, i wish you both a good night AND a wonderful valentine's day if you have any plans!!

thank you again for reading!! i will most assuredly be back if i am still welcome! (ᴗ͈ ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

OMG HI ONCE AGAIN!! SO SORRY IF I TOOK SO LONG TO ANSWER YOUR ASK, I WAS BUSYY 😭 Still so happy for the fact you're enjoying your new hobbie, I think everyone should try selfshipping at least once in their lives.. and woAHH amazing steins;gate propaganda you've done there! Wish I could do that to most of my friends but some have already seen it ages ago and some aren't just interested so I just kinda gave up HFH ALSO HOOOLY and I thought finishing the series in like,, 2 months was mental but you got me there I'm honest /lh I SERIOUSLY DON'T KNOW HOW I DID IT?? I just kinda went with it by using a small brush with no pressure and blurring out everything a little bit so it matched the og pic's quality I suppose?? I'm happy you think they seem legit, I did my job well then ; u ; <3 OMG THAT'S SO SWEET OF YOU THOUGHH 🥺🥺 now you got me curious on which ones you're referring to waa.. ALSO UMM.. ABOUT SUZUHA- I had a few concepts for how my relationship with Daru would work in-universe.. so I made a couple of them: one is the "good" ending I guess, while another is just "angst™"

.. yeah, can you tell I felt awful while coming up with the second one? GDGSFGFSD IT'S FINE THOUGH, I'M OK NOW But this is besides the point; I actually really love Suzuha's character and I prefer her over the other girls.. and my favorite dynamic is hers with Daru and Yuki (ironically).. seeing Daru being a dad melts my heart because sometimes I wish I had a father figure as sweet as he is aaa I prefer to see myself with Daru than project myself onto Yuki though, because I'd treat him differently than he does sometimes if I gotta be honest Still, hope you like the silly ideas- WAIT,, UH?? DARU HAS A PENGUIN SUIT?? I NEED TO SEE IT SO BADD 😭😭 Also fr, why can't they just satisfy the boy's fans for once,, I feel like they're leaving us out on purpose at this point- /j

Btw, for the selfship community part, I didn't really do much! I just started to post my artwork in the tag and started following and interacting with some peeps, although rarely because I'm still akward about it, but the people in it are so nice!! In my opinion, it's worth a shot!

Also thank you so much!! I hope you had a great Valentine's day with Okabe as well, sending you kisses as well! I posted a fanart that is kinda vday themed but nothing selfshippy unfortunately, but me and Daru would have probably chilled at home, exchanging eachother chocolates and stuff like that! Idk, I'm not a very "outside" person but if we had in plan to go somewhere like the May Queen to get something together, I wouldn't have minded either!

Of course you're welcome to come back, it's always a pleasure! Since I don't get asks often, it brightens up my day to see something in my inbox once in a while, so thank you still for feeling comfy enough to come back! Have a great day/night! 💕💕

[moonxsuncelestials]

Twisted Wonderland AU Questions

How do the Mesbah Sibs feel about MC and their Housewardens?

"Leona ain't bad, he's a lot smarter than most think. Plus he doesn't seem to mind me breaking curfew. Not sure if he senses it that I come more alive at night, or if he just doesn't give a shit. I'm leaning towards the latter and he's learned quick that I ain't an herbivore. I'm not afraid to go head to toe with him in a fight." He paused and took a drag of his cigarette before continuing. "I feel honestly for MC/Yuu. It's tough being away from home, worse when you're in a whole other element. If Crowley ain't gonna help them get home, I'll talk to Ma and Pa."

"I don't mind Azul, he's pretty cute. Eh? Well as a housewarden, I bet it's tough trying to keep all of us students in Octanville in line. So I'm not surprised that he asked his friends to help him with-say what you want, but I can tell there is a strong bond between them. Mutual respect is one thing, but would you really want to hang around someone who doesn't treat you the way you want to be treated? And as for MC/Yuu...I don't know. I stay in my room or hang around with my siblings, whilst teasing Ivory on his crush for Malleus."

Ivory blushed at being called out like that. Thus it takes them a moment to compose themselves, before they sign with Eclipse being their translator. 'Vil...okay. Like Rook more, he sees potential and understands that we all different. Different beauties...' They admit that they had a crush on Vil once but that vanished and now views their dorm leader as their rival. If they cannot become the next Fairest of Them All, they then will become The Deadliest of them all. At the question of MC/Yuu, they shrug. 'Like Eclipse said. I admire their strength. They push ahead...I hope we can help them go home. Or stay if that is better?'

"Donna care fer Kalim too much. He grades me nerves to where I'm debatin' if I should just transfer to Ramshackle to get away from 'em. Kalim is nice an' all but he's far too much of an airhead and doesn't seem to realize how much work he puts on Jamil. I donna make things any easier since I often pop off and donna return til dawn some nights or he catches me in the gardens talkin' to the earth. I feel fer Jamil, the lad has it rough and I wish he'd have the same privileges I do with me family." He takes a sip of his water and gives some to Ivory who thanked him. "As fer MC/Yuu, same as Ives and Eclipse. Maybe though we can help 'em find a way home, if not at least figure a way to make The Isles their home."

~~Bonus Round for Ivory~~

Ivory, do you have a crush on Malleus? What of Idia and Vil? Is it true that you're a princess of the Mafia?

Sometimes Li's purity and honesty are a pain! With a bright red blush dusting their cheeks for being called out on their crush for the Prince of Thorn Valley, they sigh and admit to it. 'Yes...I have feelings for Prince Malleus. He seems...so sad. I want to make him smile.' It was the other questions that had Ivory cutting the interview short and running off.

"Interview over! Ives come back!"

"Master Ivory wait up!!"

"Ivory!"

"Me brothers can take care of Ives, but what station did ye say ye were from again?"

And the interviewer is never seen or heard from again.

[selamat-linting]

not to stigmatize mental health but im always a little resentful over my friend since she manage to actually get therapy. like, idk. my other friend, my bestfriend, they had all sorts of shitty things happening to them and i havent been able to help them get therapy. sometimes they cant even move from the combination of panic attacks and chronic illness and both of us are helpless to stop it.

and me personally, have a lot of nastiness inside. but i dont think therapy could fix it. idk man but cbt wont fix the fact that for a majority of my short life i had to choose if i want to eat or pay for bus fare. therapy wouldnt make me any less angry that my dad is doomed to be a meth addicted asshole from the get go and the only thing people are willing to do to help him is to lock him up for an entire decade. breathing exercise wouldnt change the fact that i had to parent my little brother as a kid and he had to drink sugar water instead of milk when he was a toddler. like, fuck you dude. a positive attitude wouldn't erase the years eczema rot my fingers to the point that my nails were chipping off!!! therapy would not delay the climate change collapse.

and like, me and my friends, and a lot of my acquaintances, we cant get proper care because we had to lie that we're cishet. even though a lot of our traumas came from microagressions and hatecrimes. so whats the point of going to therapy if the therapist wouldn't even take care of the elephant in the room? pursuing therapy is a bet with no obvious payoff to most of us.

and then i see this girl, middle class, good grades and an immaculate appearance. she doesn't even look like she ever spent a week not showering. still in college with a part time job tutoring children but she somehow has enough money to pay for therapy, hang out at fancy cafes and becoming a coffee conniseur. she wears a hijab, she pursues higher education, and had a convential nuclear family. i can imagine a therapist looking at her and think, "oh she did everything right. poor girl just have several hormonal imbalances and a few life's tragedies in need of fixing" instead of victim blaming her for poor habits and saying that the reason she's so miserable is that she's a degenerate or a poverty stricken fuck who should have made better financial choices instead of going to therapy. she toes the line between conformity and productivity and it made her sympathetic and respected as a patient. meanwhile the worst thing that ever happen to her is that she's a victim of a toxic boyfriend.

look, im genuinely happy she gets help. im actually sorry that she had to go through an awful relationship that gave her nightmares. i dont doubt that she needs the help. im happy therapy and mental health is less stigmatized and its not her fault psychiatry still fails most people who need it. but, you understand where my resentment is coming from right? you understand why i have this ugly feelings when she gets better? its irrational, and i refuse to act up on it. but, the resentment is there. the feelings of unfairness is there.

[scuttling]

Trophy Husband

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 2,188 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad bod Hotch, Insecure Hotch, Dry humping, Unprotected sex, a lil Daddy kink Summary: Requested by anon: “maybe some dad bod hotch smut? like where he’s newly retired and hasn’t been working out as much and the reader worships his body bc he’s been feeling a little insecure” I love some dad bod Hotch, so happy to fill this request! Link to A03 or read below!

“No, we’re not doing forced overtime again. If you want my team to put out more consults, then we need to hire more profilers.” You walk through your front door and into the kitchen, smiling when you see Aaron standing over the stove, holding a wooden spoon and stirring something that smells amazing. “With all due respect, I’m not concerned about the budget, sir; if my people are as valuable as you stated, then I expect them to be taken care of.”

Aaron looks back at you, wrinkles his nose, and you make a motion with your hands—blah, blah, blah—which makes him chuckle.

“I agree completely, sir. That’s a great idea. If you send down the requisitions tomorrow, I’ll start interviewing on Monday. No, thank you. Good night.” You lock your phone, set your bag on the stool closest to you, and sigh. “Was it this hard to get stuff done when you were the unit chief?”

“No, it’s definitely harder now, but you make it look easy. And sexy,” he says with a smirk, and you walk over to him; he offers a taste of what he’s making—it looks like paella, and your stomach rumbles—and you lean in to take a bite off of the spoon, looking up at him and flicking your tongue over your lips. His eyes get dark.

Even after ten years of marriage, he’s so easy to get going, it’s almost unfair.

“Delicious, daddy, thank you.” You stand up fully, and he turns back to the stove; your arms wrap easily around his waist, cheek pressed to the soft, worn t-shirt that covers his back. “How was your day? Are you still enjoying the life of a trophy husband?” He snorts, muscles tensing enough that you can feel it where you rest.

“Hardly.” He was in such a good mood a moment ago that this feels like a complete 180; profiler or not, you know your husband, and something’s on his mind. You tighten your embrace, and he shrugs you off a little, and that is practically unheard of. You stand, take a step back to look at him.

“What’s wrong? You aren’t getting bored of retirement already, are you? It’s only been six months.” He sighs, shakes his head. You’re sure you look confused.

“No, retirement is fine; it’s great, actually, it’s not that.” Typical Aaron, always making you drag this shit out of him. For being so sweet and kind, he’s still not that great at being open, even though you make every effort to encourage it.

“What is it, sweetheart? Something is obviously bothering you; we should talk about it.” Another deep exhale, and he turns off the burner, moves the pan of food off of the heat, and turns to face you fully.

“I imagine you already know.” You shake your head, shrug, and he gestures to himself, to his body. You feel stupid, like there’s something you’re missing.

“Aaron, love of my life, I don’t have any idea what this means.” You mimic his previous motion, and he rolls his eyes, which you can’t stand, and he’s well aware of that. “You’ve got to give me more than that, or I can’t help.”

“You can’t help, it just… is.” He sighs, and his shoulders deflate. You move closer, to touch him, comfort him, but he takes a step back. “I know I’m not the ‘trophy husband’ you probably expected me to be. I know this isn’t what you signed up for.”

You do your best to put together these cryptic sentences, the hand gesture, and when realization finally dawns on you, you can’t help it: you laugh.

Aaron turns away, and you know that was shitty, feel instantly terrible, so you reach out to put a gentle hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you, it’s just… you don’t think you’re hot anymore?” He turns to face you, looking at you like he’s tired of your shenanigans, which… after this long, he should be plenty used to them, so the look does nothing for you.

“I’ve gotten… soft, I think that’s obvious.” At that, you smirk a little, move your hands to the button on his jeans.

“Oh, I don’t think there’s anything soft about you, Aaron. Why don’t you let me put your cock in my mouth, and we’ll check again.”

“You wanted me to talk, I’m talking.” His tone is a little admonishing, and you kind of deserve it, so you stop being horny for a second and take a deep breath.

“You’re right. Sorry. So… you’re exercising less, because obviously you don’t need to be as fit anymore, since you’re not working. Am I following?” He nods his head. “Okay, and you’re feeling… insecure about the way your body looks now, because of it.”

“Yes. Especially when you, Unit Chief Hotchner, are kicking ass and looking fucking delicious doing it, and then you have to come home to me.”

It’s like a switch is flipped in you, at those words. Oh hell no.

“Hold on here. I don’t have to come home to you, I get to come home to you; every night I do, it’s like a dream come true, and on the nights I don’t get to come home to you, I dream about it. I dream about being in your arms—strong arms, always, even if they’re less defined—and I dream about making love to you and fucking you and everything in between. You: not the Aaron of two months ago or six months ago or five years ago. You.”

He looks your face over—you’re getting fired up and you know it, and it turns him on and you also know that—and then the two of you come together for a deep, desperate kiss. Your hands fist in his hair, his roughly grab your ass, and when you pull back for air he turns you so you’re bent over the counter, searches for the zipper of your skirt.

“No!” He freezes, then steps back, and you stand up, flushed. “I’m sorry, not no—just, not here.” He blows out a breath, and you kiss him softly, sorry you scared him. “It’s just that… I want to lay you back on our bed, completely naked, and I want to put my mouth and my hands on you, everywhere. I want you to see what your body does to me, exactly as it is right now. I get that that might make you feel a little vulnerable, but will you let me?” You press your lips to his again, put your hands gently on his face. “Let me, baby.”

He nods, and you take his hand, take him to your bedroom. He’s visibly nervous, so you move his hands to your body, let him strip you naked first. He always takes pleasure in this, whether he is ripping the buttons off your favorite blouse or softly mouthing at your thighs while he drags your panties down your legs, and tonight is no exception.

“So beautiful, baby,” he murmurs as he finds that zip and drags it down, helping you step out of the skirt. You kick off your heels, and he unbuttons your top—carefully, tonight—then unhooks your bra, pulls you close and kisses your neck and chest so deliciously you almost forget what brought you here.

You lick your lips, shake yourself from the haze of submission you always feel when his mouth is at your throat, and your hands flick open the button of his jeans, tug down the zipper, guide his pants to the floor. He steps out of them, and you kiss his mouth.

Your hands move up, to the hem of his t-shirt, but you do nothing. He smirks, pulls it over his head, because he knows you love that hot guy way of pulling a t-shirt off with one hand, and he happens to be a master of it. You do your best not to drool.

“Mmm. You know exactly what I like, Aaron. There’s nobody in this world who could turn me on like you, who could get me off like you.” He licks his lips, and you get on your knees, running your hands down his body as you go. “Toes to nose, you are exactly who and what I want. Don’t ever forget that.”

You start low, press your lips to the tops of his feet, then his ankles, his calves, his knees. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, but you keep moving up, slowly, until your hands find the waistband of his underwear and you pull them down. His cock springs up—this in particular is never a problem, no matter his age—and you kiss up his thighs and then rise to stand.

“Baby,” he breathes, and you lean up for a kiss, drop your panties. He grabs a fistful of your hair, takes another, rougher kiss, then releases you; you’re panting hard, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip. God, he’s good. How could he ever doubt his sex appeal when he makes you this much of a horny, eager mess with just a kiss?

You guide him back to the bed because he’s too tall for you to reach everywhere standing up; you start at his right wrist, kiss your way to the crook of his elbow, over his biceps, to his shoulder. You trail your lips over his collarbone, his throat, pausing to nibble on his earlobes, to peck him on the tip of his nose.

“I love you so much, Aaron. You are and always will be perfect in my eyes. I barely even notice when you’re being a dick anymore,” you joke, and he laughs; steamy and sexy is really good, but it’s your favorite when he laughs.

You kiss down the other side of his neck, down his arm, but this time you bring his hand up and suck on his middle and ring fingers, taking them so deeply you can flick your tongue over his wedding ring. He groans, you groan, it’s really hot. Your pussy throbs.

“Fuck, baby.” You pull them out of your mouth with an innocent smile, and then straddle his legs, leaning forward to suck and bite kisses all over his stomach and hips, avoiding his cock altogether. “Oh, god, that feels so good,” he breathes, reaching for your hair, and you slide your arms up his chest, squeeze the muscles there that are softer, but still present, while you kiss wetly along his belly.

“Mmm,” you moan while you kiss, because you’re kind of… lined up tight against his thigh, and it feels really good.

You keep kissing, all over, sloppy, eager kisses, rubbing his chest and grinding against his thigh, and it’s a surprise to you both when you come, looking up at him with your mouth open and your nails digging into his skin.

“Holy fuck,” you sigh when you’re done—there’s no sugarcoating this—humping his leg, and he licks his lips, wraps his hands around your arms, and maneuvers you on onto your back, slides his cock easily inside you where you’re wet and warm. “Yes, Aaron.”

“Oh, baby. Fuck, I love you,” he groans, and he laces your fingers with his and tucks his face against your neck. You love when he gets like this, so desperate to come but so soft, so loving, and you squeeze him with your legs, push your body into his thrusts.

“Like that, honey, just like that,” you breathe, mouthing at his shoulder, your free hand clutching at his back. “Come inside me, daddy; pin me with your big body like you always do and come inside me. Love it, want it, need it.”

He moans into your throat, works his hips harder, faster, and you hold him when he comes, smoothing your palm over his skin. He looks down at you, and love shines in his eyes just like always; your heart melts a little. That’s something you’ll never get tired of seeing as long as you live.

He pulls out, replaces his cock with his fingers and brings you to orgasm again, still looking into your eyes, and he catches your last gasping moan with his lips.

You’re both tired after that, not as young as you used to be, and you pull him on top of your body again, a warm, reassuring weight; underneath him is your favorite place to be, always has been, always will be.

“Trophy husband,” you coo in his ear, scraping fingers through his hair. He chuckles softly, brushes his thumb over your lips.

“Badass wife.”

“Mm hmm, and don’t you forget it.” After a couple minutes, your stomach rumbles, and Aaron climbs off of you, returns with the whole pan of paella, two spoons, and a bottle of white wine. “No glasses?” you ask, teasing, sitting up against the pillows, and he shakes his head, wrinkles his nose.

“Nah, I like it better this way. My lips where your lips have been.” He leans in for a soft, slow, sultry kiss, and you sigh when it’s over, lean your head against his shoulder, and smile.

❤️ Taglist: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix

[jaesqueso]

Proving a point (m)

pairing: boyfriend!renjun x fem!reader

summary: renjun had enough with his friends doubting his dom skills so he decides to prove them what he’s capable of

word count: 1,773

warnings: masturbation, fingering, oral sex (giving), unprotected sex (when in doubt don’t go without!), choking and hair pulling, voyerism/exhibition kink

a/n: I never thought I would write renjun smut but he insists on staying in my mind for no reason so I had to... @odentist​ you didn’t ask to be tagged but you encouraged me to do this so this is your fault too 👀 do give me some feedback! ❤

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

As you’re laying in bed busy scrolling through your social media, you don’t even notice your boyfriend blankly staring at the ceiling as his phone keeps buzzing on the side. You hear him huffing and finally grab the device and scroll through the messages on the group chat.

NJM: renjun is really soft

LJN: how could he ever dom someone like Y/N

ML: I don’t see anyone doming her like ever

LDH: I could dom her… just saying

NJM: yeah right

LDH: I could!

LJN: would she let you though…

ML: you guys are drifting from the point

NJM: right!

NJM: renjun!

NJM: are you insisting you could dom someone?

HRJ: ok, that’s enough

HRJ wants to share live video with everyone

ML: what is that?

ML: is it a virus?

LJN joined the share

LDH joined the share

NJM joined the share

LDH: c’mon mark!

ML: ok, alright!

ML joins the share

You feel a soft hand caressing your stomach, slowly moving up around your breast to your collar bones to suddenly grab your neck with a strong grip. You gasp, dropping your phone on the bed, and look to your boyfriend only to notice his phone right in your face.

“The guys keep saying I’m soft… It’s starting to upset me.” Renjun coos from behind the phone. “Should we show them what really happens in this room?”

You nod as best as you can having your neck mobilised. In your sex life together you always took turns in the lead as you’re both ok with being dom or sub, but you had noticed how bothered he has been lately because his friends don’t believe his dominant skills, specially with those angelic facial features.

Renjun takes advantage of your open mouth and lets a string of saliva fall on it leaning down after to kiss your lips before he releases your throat. You swallow his spit and breathe in deeply to refill your lungs, you were no stranger to breath play but this time he really caught you off guard.

He removes the covers off of you and the phone follows the lines of your body, head to toe and back. You look him in the eyes waiting for his instructions, for some reason the thought of his friends watching whatever he’s about to do to you is already soaking your panties.

“Take off your shirt.” He says in a stern voice and you follow his request immediately.

With his free hand he roughly squishes one of your breasts and his mouth sucks on the other one. Making sure the camera is picking up everything he occasionally slaps your boob as he gives your nipple some love bites. You hiss in between soft moans that escape your mouth.

He does that for a while and then leans back to show his friends your abused breasts. Renjun moves down on the bed tapping your leg.

“Open.” He simply says and you already know to spread your legs wide for him.

He moves his phone close to your core running a finger through your slit over your panties. Even with the dim lighting in the room the wet patch in the fabric is pretty clear. He pushes it to the side and runs two fingers between your folds catching some of your juices, then holds his hand up to the camera so the others can see it glistening.

In a quick swipe he removes the last piece of clothing on you and leans between your legs centring your eager pussy on the screen.

“Play with yourself.” Renjun looks you in the eyes and you bite your lip moving a hand down your body.

Your fingers find your clit and you start rubbing circles on it. While you’re focused on your task, in between moans you feel two of his fingers sliding easily inside you. His hand moves in sync with yours so you decide to test the waters slightly speeding up your movements to see if he would do the same. Unfortunately that only made him stop, removing his fingers and getting up to stand next to the bed.

“Did I tell you to go faster?” He says in a harsh tone, his phone capturing your face.

You shake your head not moving an inch.

“I’m gonna ask again. Did I tell you to go faster?” He raises his voice and you know he wants you to use your words.

“No.” Your voice is shaky. “I’m sorry-”

“You’re sorry? Come here and show me.” He looks at his pants then back at you and you know exactly what to do.

You kneel in front of his crotch and massage his bulge.

“No teasing.” He grabs your jaw and you gulp.

You tug at the waistband of his sweatpants and yank them down his legs, followed by his underwear, eyes never leaving his. Renjun lets go of your jaw once his member is free, standing tall in front of your face.

You start licking the tip tasting the pre-cum that’s oozing out. Your tongue moves along the whole length getting it all wet and ready for you to take him in. One of his hands caresses your hair getting it out of your face while the other holds his phone capturing all your moves.

You start sucking the tip of his dick and slowly move your head forward to take more of him in your mouth. His hand that was caressing your hair now grabs a chunk of it pushing you until your nose touches his stomach. You almost gag but close your eyes and breathe through your nose ignoring the fact that his dick is inches away from the back of your throat.

“That’s it, take it all in.” Renjun praises you. “You’re such a good girl.”

You open your eyes to look up at him, tears forming as he loosens his grip on your hair for you to bob you head. As you keep sucking him you can see he’s holding back his moans probably so his friends won’t hear.

Once he’s fully erect inside the warmth of your mouth he pulls out leaving a thread of saliva and pre-cum behind.

“Get on all fours.” He instructs and you quickly get into position.

You moan as he lands a loud smack on your ass and then scream his name when he pushes himself into you without any warning or a trace of mercy.

“You love to be filled up like this don’t you?” He asks staying still inside you.

“Yes!” You reply in a moan. “Your cock always feels so good inside me.”

“Well if you like it so much, why don’t you fuck yourself on it?” You know this is not a question, but an order.

As he stands still you move your hips away from him only to bring them back making his dick go in and out of you. You keep moving like that, earning an occasional slap on the but that gives you motivation to keep fucking yourself on his length. As you start feeling a knot form inside you, you know you need him to take the lead.

“Please Renjun…” You beg still moving your hips. “Please fuck me like only you can.”

“You can’t cum on your own, uh?” He asks in a cocky tone as you vigorously shake your head. “Pathetic.”

He removes his member off of you and flips your body so you’re laying on your side. One of your legs is pushed over his shoulder and he gets back inside you. He now thrusts into you hard and deep as you moan uncontrollably.

The phone is still held up high enough to capture all the action, from your abused pussy to the fucked up expression on your face. Renjun feels you getting closer to your orgasm by the way your clenching around him so he slows his thrusts.

“Don’t you dare cum before I do.” His stern voice goes straight into your core and you bite your lip hard so you don’t cum right there and then.

You close your eyes as he resumes his strong thrusts, clenching your hands on the sheets of your bed as little whimpers escape your mouth.

“You look so desperate, I love that look on your face.” You open your eyes at his words and are confronted by his phone right in front of you.

The thought of his friends being on the other side and seeing you so desperate to cum was not helping your fight against your orgasm so you did the only thing you could think of to drive your boyfriend crazy.

“Shit…” Renjun curses under his breath as you clench around his length rolling your hips just the way he likes it. “You really want to cum that bad?”

“Please Renjun!” You plea knowing you won’t last much longer.

“Alright then.” His voice his shaky now so you know your little stunt is working. “Cum with me, now.”

He takes his hand to your clit but he barely touches it before you come undone on his length moaning loudly. That triggers his own orgasm making him spill his seed inside you. Your body shakes in pleasure and his grip on the phone tightens not to drop it on you as he rides off both your highs.

He then moves the device closer to your core as he slowly takes his dick out. He smiles as he shows the boys his cum dripping out of you while he plays with it pushing it back inside.

When Renjun feels your body relax he cleans you up with a piece of clothing discarded before. He then climbs back on the bed pulling you to his embrace. You curl up on his side hiding your face on his neck.

“Who’s your daddy?” He asks holding up the phone to show both your faces.

“You are, daddy.” You smile against his skin.

“Good girl.” He shows a cocky smile to the camera. “Are you tired?”

You lazily nod.

“Ow, can you handle round two though?”

You lift up your head to face him and nod vigorously while biting your lip.

“That’s my girl.” He gives you a peck on the lips before he continues. “Now, say goodbye to the guys.”

You look at the camera with an ecstatic look on your face and wave.

HRJ stopped sharing live video

NJM: NO

NJM: FREAKIN

NJM: WAY

ML: was this real?

LDH: ok maybe I couldn’t dom her…

LDH: how did he not break with that look on her face?

LJN: I take it all back… RESPECT RENJUN!

[forcebewitht]

Force's Disney Geek Master Theory: Why Twisted Wonderland Is Called Twisted Wonderland

We have all grown to know and love various Disney characters over the years, correct? Yet, I believe a lot of us can argue that not many characters have the same effect on us even as adults today as the Villains do within their respective movies. In the game Disney: Twisted Wonderland as we all know and love, the select boys to Overblot are supposed to have the "souls" of their Villain counterparts, right? But...why is it called "Twisted" Wonderland, then? The truth may lie within something that has been right in front of us all along, my friends: the meaning of a mirror. Ready to buckle in for this one? If so, then here we go!

We have seen all of these guys share character traits, looks, etc with their Disney counterparts, correct? Well, what if I were to tell you that things in terms of the "main" guys that we are supposed to pay attention to aren't exactly what they seem? This could be analyzed in a few different ways, honestly, yet the most prominent way is this: the differences in their personalities- they are reversed. Let us take this bit by bit, shall we?

Ah, yes. The Queen Of Hearts. The ranting, raging, bundle of red, black, and gold we all know and love. (or else heads would roll, I'm sure) One of the things that everybody knows about her is that she's extremely hellbent on the crazy rules that she makes up and is prone to anger honestly very easily. Yeah, you can connect that to Riddle- but think about it for a second. While that rage and the rule thing is still there, it isn't as prominent with him as it was with her, is it? With the Queen of Hearts, her whole "issue" was that she wished to make everybody listen to her and follow her every command- but Riddle was essentially always following the rules of another- not his own. This seemed to make Riddle a little more calm most of the time in terms of how he handled and oversaw things. It wasn't until he actually Overblotted that the "listen to me and only me" thing came out- buuuuuuttttttt I'll get to that part in a bit.

Next: Leona and Scar. While we honestly didn't get to see a lot of what went on behind the scenes in the Outlands in terms of how Scar even met the hyenas to begin with at all, one thing can honestly be said- Scar worked very hard to get where he was. I mean, it's not like you can get an entire pack of rabid, hungry hyenas onto your side in the course of a single day, or maybe even a week (especially as a lion, no less). No, something to that extreme takes careful planning, wording, and stringing along to ensure that nothing goes wrong along the way. The way Scar spoke to Shenzi, Banzai, and Ed made it seem as though he had known them for a looooonngggg time before this- that's where that behind the scenes planning comes in. And then...you have Leona. Leona, from what we can tell in Chapter 2, planned the idea for the "endgame" alright- but he didn't actually act upon any of the plan for himself. Ruggie did. Even in the Lion King, we see that Scar had no problems whatsoever getting his paws dirty a little within his own scheme to take his "rightful place" at the head of Pride Rock- but Leona quite honestly did not a thing once Ruggie was in motion. See where this is starting to head?

Azul and Ursula. Ursula, the Disney baddie queen of my heart Ursula, the Sea Witch. She was known all around the ocean floor for helping out poor little merfolk in secret, wasn't she? Yet, nobody ever really seemed to catch wind of the whole "her turning those who didn't quite fit the bill into polyps" thing, did they? That was one of the things that made her such a honest threat to Ariel herself- because Ursula was cunning. She did things behind the scenes, and sure- we could catch onto it out in the audience (annnddd maybe Sebastian and Flounder as well), but nobody else really seemed to, right? Azul is the complete opposite in this standpoint. He instills direct fear into his "workers" and those even beyond and within his dorm. Like- basically most knew that this dude was bad news to begin with. Azul, mostly, seemed to hide his cunning facade behind a fake yet still seemingly "soft and genuine" smile and act. But all in all, he didn't really attempt to "hide" anything- hell, he even proclaimed his entire plan of what everyone with those things on their heads were gonna do for him in the open! At least when Ursula sang as Vanessa, she was in an almost perfectly enclosed room with nobody else around.

Jamil and Jafar. This comparison here, given what occurs in the movie Aladdin, is honestly one of the biggest possible indicators of this reoccuring theme I shall clarify in a bit. Jafar, while being sneaky, was known for being a more "out there" Disney Villain in terms of his personality alongside that of his partner Iago in the film. He would smile in a sinister way, he would crack jokes out in the open, and let us not forget his crazed yet oddly interesting laughter. Jamil? He's the exact opposite. Given his past and what he has had to dealt with growing up with Kalim, he is much more reserved and barely releases a chuckle or cracks a smile at all. His personality is a lot more repressed than that of Jafar himself throughout the film. Jamil has been so used to having to hold himself back thanks to his parents in favor of Kalim's family, he doesn't seem to know how to "let go" whatsoever. Yet Jafar, while still maintaining that sneaky side of him as well, has no problems whatsoever letting a little hang loose whenever he so chooses to.

Vil and the Evil Queen. This one honestly may be a bit more self explanatory than the others- but the difference between these two is their expressions of themselves. The Evil Queen was the very first animated counted Disney Villain within Disney's history- yet, she barely had any lines throughout the film at all. Her ranges of expression were almost little to none thanks to the era in which the movie was released in- but she always looked like she was pissed, huh? Vil is the exact opposite of her in this sense. He is able to fully express himself through his various facial expressions, theatrical abilities, musical experiences, fashion style, and even how he behaves. Vil is able to do so much more than the Evil Queen did or could do within that time period, that it's almost a little staggering if you fully picture it.

Idia and Hades. Now, now. We haven't honestly seen too much of the flaming blue boy yet in TWST, but one thing is apparent here right off the bat- in terms of his personality? He is the exact opposite of Hades. Idia is much like Jamil but to a more "geek" degree- he's extremely introverted, shy, a bit snippy, yet mainly keeps to himself and his gaming tech. Hades is most often renowned as the Disney Villain with the most personality- and the best humor. Hades has no problem whatsoever being "out there" with his crazy puns, sassy remarks, anger, and even mocking behavior. I mean, please, guys- I haven't been this choked up since I got a hunk of moussaka caught in my throat!

Finally, Malleus and Maleficent. Ooooohoooooooo boy. We have to count out the live action movie Maleficent for this one (sorry horned queen fans). One thing that basically everybody even with their toe in the water in that of Disney movies kind of knows this fact- Maleficent is c r u el. She's got a bizarre set of dark powers and an even blacker heart than that. Hell, we basically had to "soften her up" a little bit in Maleficent thanks to just how seemingly irredeemable her character is in that of Sleeping Beauty. I mean, c'mon now- cursing an infant? And we get no explanation for that in the original? C'mon, now. Anyways, Malleus? As we all can tell by now, this dude is the compleeettteeeeeee opposite. Sure, he has those repressed bits here and there too, but it is evident that this dude has a heart crying out for the MC and it is big, bold, and golden to the core once you look past how he looks. He sent the MC a card for winter break, for crying out loud. Yeah, let me know the next time you see Maleficent do that smh.

Now, I have avoided using a certain word up until this point to see if anybody could catch on to what exactly is happening here. Did you figure it out? Reverse. The boys that either have Overblotted already or intend to Overblot soon stop holding out on us, Chapter 6 have had the exact opposite personalities compared to that of their Villain counterpart- until one prime point in their "character arcs". Their Overblot.

Riddle wished to have all bow before him and obey his rules.

Leona led his entire dorm into ruin and nearly sanded away the entire school in the process.

Azul let himself finally free of his personal shackles entirely and "took what was his".

Jamil finally let himself go and opened up more in his personality, almost seeming to be driven insane in the process.

Vil wanted to become the most beautiful one of all and would kill anyone within the way of that goal without any hesitation whatsoever.

The moment that the boys' Overblotted, that was the exact moment when the "soul" of their Disney Villain counterpart took control. Keeping that idea in mind, that should mean that this will happen in the upcoming chapters and their Overblots:

Idia will show off all of the personality, powers, and intelligence that he has been keeping down within this introverted self of his.

Malleus will become so broken by being left out and alone in the cold for the final time that he will turn into a completely cruel Fae and possibly nearly kill either the MC or the representation of Prince Philip within that Chapter in the process.

(Hello, my dear Readers! Guess who is trying to get back into her bigger pieces of writing? This gal right here~ feel free to drop a comment and tell me what you think of this theory- I'd love to hear your thoughts! 💕)

[hmslusitania]

Paint it Black

@evanbucxley @arrenemris you guys wanted petty, jealous Eddie stuck in an elevator with Taylor during the blackout, right?

Eddie Diaz has been involved in his share of awkward dinners.

This one takes the cake though. It starts with him showing up at Buck’s loft by himself, and Buck opening the door with that stupid puppy-dog confused tilt to his head that makes Eddie want to do something drastic.

“Where’s Ana?” he asks.

“We broke up,” Eddie says. “Figured it would be weird to invite her to dinner after that.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Buck says, which yeah, Eddie knows because Eddie hadn’t told him yet. “I’m sorry, man.”

Which makes…one of them.

The night gets worse when Taylor shows up with her latest story of her investigation into – Eddie misses the details, but he’s discovered that Taylor’s voice somehow is at the exact right pitch that he can’t quite hear it most of the time. Weird how that works.

Buck, bless his fucking heart, feels none of the tension in the loft. Or if he does, he doesn’t react to it. He stays chipper and upbeat and positive and doesn’t comment when Eddie and Taylor trip over each other to help him with making dinner or pouring drinks or to sit beside him on the couch while the food cooks.

But, like, the spot on the couch beside Buck is Eddie’s spot, and if it’s not Eddie’s it’s Christopher’s.

And Eddie…loses the fight.

Taylor’s tiny, and for just half a second, he entertains the utterly absurd idea of just picking her up and moving her, but it flits out of his head almost as soon as it arrives. It’s quickly followed by an unfortunate realisation that it must be easy as anything for Buck to just pick her up and move her when – which is then immediately erased by the second-hand memory he acquired from Captain Mehta that Buck had been able to just pick Eddie up and toss him into the engine like he was a sack of potatoes – which –

He’s saved when dinner is ready, but he feels Taylor’s eyes on him the whole way through the meal.

Annoyingly, they end up leaving at the same time. Buck and Eddie have a shift in the morning, and Taylor has a story to cut before some deadline or other. Eddie would rather not walk out with her, would rather not share the elevator with her – he briefly considers legging it for the stairs but they’re at the other end of Buck’s floor and the elevator is right there and it would be absolutely blatant what he was doing – but if the alternative is knowing she’s staying the night at Buck’s, he’ll deal with the elevator.

They’re both quiet while the doors slide open, the soft whisper of the brushed stainless-steel brushing against the dust guards the only sound besides the simmering mutual animosity between them. They step into the elevator, which smells vaguely of Pinesol, and Taylor presses the button for the ground floor with a shiny lacquered red nail.

The doors close again and the shimmering, irritable silence fills the space. No elevator music in Buck’s building, which is probably for the best.

“So,” Taylor says as the world’s slowest elevator descends. “Is it personal or are you just jealous?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Eddie says. The elevator has faux wood panelling, not mirrors, so he can’t tell if she’s looking at him or if she’s staring straight ahead like he is.

“You either hate me on a personal level, because I’m me or something,” she says. “Or you hate me because you’re in love with Buck.”

Eddie gets as far as a spluttered, indignant, “I am not in love with—”

And then the elevator lurches. Stops. The lights flicker and then die. The emergency lights do not kick on.

“Well that’s comforting,” Taylor says, dry.

Eddie pulls out his phone. Usually, it’s still connected to Buck’s wifi by the elevator, and the connection’s gone. So it isn’t just the elevator.

“There’s a button in here that calls the fire department, right?” Taylor asks, pulling out her own phone and shining it at the elevator panel. She presses the button that should connect them directly to the department, and nothing happens.

“Depending on how wide the power outage is, it might have knocked out dispatch,” Eddie says.

“Great,” Taylor says. “You’re a firefighter, you can get the doors open, right?”

“With a Halligan and a fully functional shoulder?” Eddie asks. “Sure.”

She huffs. “Do you think it’s just this building or wider?”

“How would I know?” Eddie asks.

“So helpful, thank you.”

“What do you want me to do, Taylor? Use my magical powers of divination to figure out if we’re in a building-wide, block-wide, city-wide, county-wide blackout?” Eddie snaps.

He can’t see her face in the shitty half-light of their respective phone screens, but he hears her roll her eyes.

“It’s because you’re in love with him, right?” she asks.

“For fuck’s sake, Taylor, I’m not in love with—”

“Because he’s in love with you,” she interrupts as though he hasn’t spoken. Eddie’s heart stops. “It’s weird, I’ve never really had to vie for someone’s affections before. I can’t say I’m a fan, but, see, he thinks you aren’t an option.”

“He told you this?” Eddie asks and hopes to God his voice sounds normal because it does not feel like it.

Taylor snorts. “He didn’t have to. Do you guys have any idea what you’re like when you’re around each other? It’s obvious to anyone who even meets you in passing, and I know both of you and have a journalism degree. It’s not difficult math.”

“Then why are you dating him?” Eddie asks, swallowing back the lump that’s just jumped into his throat that feels suspiciously like his heart.

“Because I like him,” Taylor says. “And because I like a challenge.”

Before Eddie can say anything rude about Buck being worth more than a challenge to someone, she sighs.

“I’d say you’re going to have to fight me for him, but it’s not going to be much of a competition,” she says.

“You really think my chances are that bad?” Eddie asks and he hates how sad he sounds, even to his own ears.

Taylor doesn’t get a chance to answer before Eddie’s phone lights up with a picture of Buck and Chris together and Buck’s name in bright letters. In the sudden illumination, he sees the annoyed, resigned expression on her face.

“That answer your question?” she replies, and Eddie answers the phone.

“Hey, did you make it out or are you stuck in the elevator?” Buck asks.

“We’re stuck in the elevator,” Eddie says. “No idea what floor. Maybe three?”

“Cool, don’t go anywhere,” Buck replies and hangs up before Eddie can ask where, exactly, they might go.

An awkward silence hangs in the elevator in the wake of the phone call.

Until, finally, Taylor says, “For what it’s worth, if I had to lose to someone, at least you’re as pretty as I am.”

Eddie is still searching for some kind of response to that – coming up absolutely blank – when the elevator doors slide open. Buck, illuminated by a headlamp, waves at them and pockets his keys.

“You have an elevator key?” Taylor asks while Buck pulls her out.

“Fire marshals and captains get ’em,” Buck says. “They’re standard across production lines.”

“Fire marshals have to give them back,” Eddie points out.

“Eh, when I was a probie, we got an elevator rescue and Bobby told me to go open the doors, and so I stood there trying to pry them open for like five minutes before he walked up to the elevator panel and unlocked them with his key,” Buck says. “Chim and Hen laughed at me for about a month every time we got near an elevator. So when I did my turn as fire marshal, I may have made a copy.”

“Of course you did,” Eddie says. He rolls his eyes and is grateful for the darkness so Buck can’t see exactly how fond he must look.

Taylor catches him, though, and for a tense second, Eddie thinks she’s going to say something about it. But Taylor Kelly is a lot of things, but “quitter” isn’t one of them. It might not be a fair fight, and the outcome might be rigged in Eddie’s favour, but he understands then that she’s going to make him fight for it. Fight for Buck.

No worthier fight, really.

“We should check in, see if they want us on shift early,” Buck says, already pulling his phone out to text or call Bobby.

“And I should go investigate,” Taylor says. “I’m sure my station is missing me.”

“Okay,” Buck says. “Do you want my headlamp for the stairs?”

“I’ve got it, but, thank you,” Taylor says. She stretches on her toes to kiss him goodbye – much more thoroughly than she had when they left Buck’s apartment. She arches an eyebrow at Eddie once she’s let go of Buck and Eddie narrows his eyes right back. “See you boys later.”

She flips on the flashlight on her phone and waltzes off to the stairs.

“We should tell all my neighbours to stay inside,” Buck says.

“Sounds like a plan,” Eddie says, shooting a text to his abuela and Chris to ask them to do the same. He doesn’t know yet if the blackout’s reached their neighbourhood, but it’s a better policy.

“So what did you and Taylor talk about while you were in the elevator together?” Buck asks in between knocking on his neighbours’ doors to announce LAFD please remain inside your homes.

“We, uh, came to an understanding,” Eddie says.

“Oh! Good,” Buck says. He pauses. “What about?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie recommends. He nudges Buck with his shoulder and gets a grin in response. “Let’s check in with Bobby and see if they need us or if they recommend we just stay inside and stay safe, too.”

“No one I’d rather weather a lockdown with,” Buck replies, as if the second she stepped into the stairwell, Taylor also disappeared from his head. “Well, except maybe Christopher.”

Eddie laughs, and thinks in Taylor’s direction, may the best person win.

[hqbbg]

still.

pairing: miya osamu x fem!reader

prompt: “I told you to stay still.”

genre: smut

word count: 5.3K (I got carried away, oops)

warnings: 18+, masturbation, some degradation, oral (f!receiving), fingering, some spanking, vaginal & unprotected s3x (make sure you wrap your presents, kids), like 2 seconds of cockwarming, uhm I think that’s it oop

author’s note: I'm back with another Haikyuu!! Headquarters collab piece! check out the master list of everyone else’s works here ✨ I hope y’all enjoy this!

The air in your room feels thick as you pant helplessly, feeling the familiar ache in your fingers as they begin to cramp up while plunging in and out of your sopping cunt. You feel so close to your own undoing, unable to control your thoughts as they drift to the man whose room is on the other side of your bedroom wall. You can’t help but think that it’s his fingers squelching within your warmth, though you’re sure they would reach much further than yours ever could.

You don’t do this often, touching yourself to the thought of your roommate while he’s out at work or running errands, but lately you’ve been frustrated.

When you had put out an ad for a roommate, you were hesitant. You didn’t have much of a choice, as your last roommate decided to move out in favor of moving in with her boyfriend, leaving you to scramble for a solution in order to continue to afford rent. As a full-time student with a part time job, it would’ve been inconvenient to move out in the middle of the semester, and it seemed reasonable to quickly search for a roommate to help with the bills until your lease was up.

Miya Osamu was hot, to say the least, though it wasn’t the main reason why you ended up choosing him to be your new roommate. On top of having manners and being financially stable, he knew how to cook and respected your space in the apartment. Unfortunately, you’ve been unable to say the same recently. The number of times his room door was cracked open as he changed almost made you consider that he was doing it on purpose, as if encouraging you to take a peek.

As you recall the way his back muscles flexed as he pulled his shirt over his head all those times you’d told yourself that you were just walking by, you let another moan slip past your lips. Your fingers begin to move quicker, toes curling, and you can feel your arm beginning to tire out. Your back arches as your other hand quickly moves to massage your neglected clit, rubbing harsh circles until your vision flashes white.

You fail to hear the front door open and close as your moans continue to fill the room. The memory of seeing Osamu stepping out of the bathroom in a simple pair of grey sweatpants with a towel around his neck is still fresh on your mind. You feel yourself clench around your own fingers as you recall your eyes briefly catching sight of the outline of his cock, the image practically ingrained within you. Too many times have you thought about how it would feel inside of you.

Another moan resonates on the walls and you bite your lip, though it does little to stop you from moaning Osamu’s name. Before you know it, you’re overwhelmed by pleasure and your whole body tenses before it relaxes. Your chest heaves as you lay there, trying to recover from your intense orgasm and you want nothing more than to sleep now. You hardly notice that your door is open.

Over the next few days, you can’t help but feel that something is off with Osamu. Though you aren’t particularly close, you’d like to think that you two have developed some sort of friendship with all the shared meals and evenings spent in the living room just chatting about life.

Did he hear you the other night? There was no way; you made sure to give yourself enough time before he was supposed to come home. Then again, you didn’t hear him come in…

Your cheeks begin to burn at the idea that he’d heard you. You let out a groan as you bury your face in your hands, leaning onto your desk. The little motivation you had to study has effectively disappeared and an unsettling mix of nervousness and shame begins to stir in the pit of your stomach.

Taking a deep breath, you try to push the dreadful thought out of your head and sit upright. An idea suddenly pops into your head and you abruptly stand up. You walk over to your door and poke your head out, scanning the area to locate your roommate. He’s conveniently in the kitchen, snacking on some leftovers he’d brought back from his restaurant the previous night.

“Hey,” you say awkwardly as you step out. He looks over at you and hums in acknowledgement, his mouth full. You decide to go ahead and speak, though your fingers fidget with the hem of your oversized shirt. “You’re not working tomorrow night, right?”

Osamu shakes his head, swallowing his food. “What’s up?”

“Well,” you hesitate, trying to find a way to come off as casually as you can, “I saw this recipe online for some salmon and vegetables, do you wanna be my guinea pig?”

“Sure,” he nods as he shrugs. “What time?”

“Dinner time,” you say, a little too eagerly. “How about seven?”

His lips quirk upwards into a small smile. “Sounds good to me.”

You watch as he takes another bite of his food before you realize you’re staring, clearing your throat.

“Okay, well, have a good night,” you say and quickly scurry back towards your room. Once you shut the door, you release a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding in. You swiftly move back to your desk, your forgotten notes pushed even further aside as you begin to look for that recipe you’d seen all those weeks ago.

The following day, you make a quick trip to the store to buy ingredients and find yourself nervously counting down the hours and minutes until it’s a reasonable time to start making dinner. You step out of your room to see Osamu already perched on a stool at the small island in the kitchen. He’s slouched over, scrolling through his phone when you walk up. He glances up and greets you with a small smile as you place your phone down near the center of the island countertop.

“Okay, so before I start, I just need to say that I’m definitely not a professional chef in any way,” you say as you move to wash your hands. You can feel his eyes on you as you move around the kitchen, pulling the vegetables from the fridge. You grab the apron hanging on the pantry door and sling it over your head, tying it behind your back.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen ya wear that,” Osamu muses as he leans his cheek on his palm. His elbows are both propped up on the counter and you resist the urge to playfully roll your eyes.

“I have to make sure my shirt doesn’t get dirty,” you say, “it’s one of my favorites.”

He says nothing in response, opting for a light chuckle as you begin to wash the vegetables. Once you finish, you pull out the cutting board in front of him on the other side of the island, placing a carrot in the middle.

You open a cabinet and pull out a knife, giving it a quick rinse before positioning the blade to cut through the vegetable. Placing your fingers on the edge, you lift the knife just slightly.

“Hey, be sure to cats paw,” Osamu pipes up, pointing to the hand that’s on the carrot, “If yer not careful, you’ll knick yourself.”

“Huh?” You blink your eyes at him, trying to prevent yourself from sounding like an idiot.

“Like this,” he says, lifting his hand up and curling his fingers inward into a loose fist. You try not to focus on the veins lining his hands, tearing your eyes away and mimicking his motions. You see him drop his hand from your peripherals and finally attempt to cut into the carrot.

Before you know it, the knife slips from your grasp, making a shallow but clean cut across your index knuckle. You let out a curse and hiss as you drop the knife.

“Whoa, are ya okay?” Osamu stands as you begin to make your way to the sink, blocking your path.

“It hurts, but I’m fine,” you reply, looking at him curiously before glancing at your finger. You examine it for a moment, seeing the familiar crimson begin to bead.

“Let me take a look,” says Osamu, gently grabbing a hold of your wrist. He lifts your hand up closer to his face, his eyebrows slightly creasing as you do your best to resist the blush creeping up to your cheeks. “You should be careful.”

“Well, it’s not like this was intentional,” you grumble, unable to meet his eyes. He sighs softly and you glance at him, opening your mouth to say something. However, your train of thought is  completely derailed when his lips wrap around the small incision.

You feel his warm tongue gently lick around it and you can’t help but stare at the way his lips look around your finger. He catches your eyes and pulls away.

“I used to do this to my brother whenever he’d get hurt or something when we were little,” he says, letting go of your wrist. Your face is burning as you drop your hand back down to your side. “Wait here, I’ll go grab a bandage.”

You nod wordlessly, mind still reeling as you try to figure out and process what exactly had just happened. You watch his retreating figure head towards the bathroom, disappearing for only a moment before resurfacing with a familiar pink wrapper with Hello Kitty’s face scattered across the outside cover, a gift he had received from his brother. He makes his way back over to you, pulling the tabs apart and plucking out the bandaid.

Without prompting, you lift your hand up towards him and watch as he moves your hand towards him with his pinky, wrapping it around your finger.

“There, all patched up. Is that too tight?” He asks, picking up the trash and crumpling it in his fist. You lift your hand up and examine his handiwork, nodding in approval.

“It’s perfect,” you say, feeling your stomach flutter at the self-satisfied smirk that’s found its way onto his face. “I still have to cut the vegetables, though.”

“Hand it over; I’ll do it.” He motions towards the knife.

You pout, making no indication to hand the utensil over to him. “I kind of wanted to cut the vegetables though.”

He raises a brow at you. “Are ya sure? Ya already butchered yer first chance; I don’t want blood all over my kitchen.”

“Your kitchen, huh?”

Osamu shrugs. “I hardly see ya in here, so it might as well be.”

“So are you gonna help me or not?” You raise a brow and choose to ignore his statement as you cross the kitchen to grab your phone, pulling up the recipe to skim through the instructions before placing it back down. “I’m supposed to Juliette these vegetables.”

Osamu stays quiet for a moment. “Do ya mean julienne?”

“Yeah, same thing,” you wave your hand dismissively, walking back over to the cutting board. You pick up the discarded knife, giving it a quick rinse. Upon returning to your original spot at the island, your hands position themselves once again, curling your fingers like Osamu had previously shown you.

“Wait, yer gonna end up hurting yourself again,” he says as he walks up behind you. “How thin are ya trying to cut this?”

“About this much,” you reply, positioning the knife towards the edge of the carrot.

“Okay, first things first,” he says as he wraps his arms around you. Your eyes widen as you feel his chest press against your back, his hands moving to hold yours. “Ya have to cut it in half and get a flat surface.”

He grabs your hand holding the knife and moves it to the middle of the carrot, wrapping his thick and long fingers around the handle, completely swallowing yours. He ensures that his grip is stable before pressing down, the blade making a sharp cut.

“Okay, so now that ya have this, ya said ya want to make them look like noodles, right?”

You can only nod your head, afraid that your voice will crack if you choose to speak. Your head feels fuzzy, your senses overwhelmed by the scent of his musky cologne hitting your nose and the way his strong arms continue to guide you. The heat radiating off his chest envelops you in an oddly comforting embrace and something about it feels very domestic. You try hard to keep your knees from buckling under you, shifting your weight between your feet. You immediately tense when you accidentally press your backside against his hips.

Briefly scanning the island countertop, you see that his phone is on the other side where he’d originally left it when you began cooking and try to ignore the sinful thoughts threatening to infiltrate your mind.

“Makes sense?” Osamu says, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“I-I think so,” you stammer, though you bite your lip and mentally scold yourself for your faltering voice.

“Alright,” he says, taking a step back. You exhale slowly, trying not to think of the loss of warmth. “While ya keep doing that, I’ll prepare the salmon. Where’s the recipe?”

“It’s on my phone.” You nod towards it, setting the knife down. He walks over to the side of the counter you’d left your phone at and brings it over to you. “What’s yer passcode?”

“That’s classified information, sir.” You see his eyes darken for a moment as you pluck your phone from his hand, typing in the digits before placing it in his open palm.

“Never thought you’d be callin’ me that so soon,” he says offhandedly, locating the recipe in your browser. You feel your lips part to say something, but no words come out.

You simply resume cutting the carrot and grab more vegetables, shaking your head to clear your wandering thoughts. You see Osamu grab the salmon from the fridge, pulling it out and getting some seasonings you’d bought earlier.

“Hey, can ya grab a pan from that cabinet there?” Osamu asks as he points to one of the bottom cabinets in front of your legs.

“Sure,” you nod and take a step back, opening the cabinet door and bending over at the hips. You rummage around for a decent-sized pan, feeling Osamu’s eyes on you before you straighten up. He’s quick to avert his eyes as he holds his hand out to you. You place the handle in his open palm and he takes it, setting it on top of the stove.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you prepare your own things, with you seasoning and cooking the vegetables while Osamu prepares the fish, searing it on the pan. As you both finish your portions, you decide to bring out your nicer plates for the occasion.

Opening one of the top cabinets, you stand on your toes to reach for the plates, wondering how they ended up so high to begin with.

“Need help?”

You jump slightly, startled when you feel his body pressed flush against yours with a hand on the dip of your waist as the other reaches above your head to grab two plates, placing them down onto the counter. You turn your head to look at him and realize just how close he is, his face merely centimeters away. His eyes are on your lips as you tongue pokes out to wet them before they flicker upwards to meet your eyes. You look up at him, anticipating his next move with bated breath, and feel his hand that had been holding the plates move to gently hold your jaw. He leans forward just slightly and your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet.

His lips move slowly against yours, though it’s nothing short of passionate. You feel his hand on your waist pull you closer to him and you lean into the warmth. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you open your mouth to welcome the warm muscle inside, letting him explore freely.

The both of you seem to run out of air at the same time, pulling away breathlessly. Before you can say anything, he kisses down your jaw to your neck as you crane your head just slightly so he can have better access and you’re not straining your muscles. He nips gently at the skin before dragging his tongue along, finding a particularly tender spot to pay special attention to. A hiss slips past your lips and you’re reminded of how close he is to you when you begin to feel something hardening against your backside.

“If ya wanna stop, ya have to tell me now,” he mutters against your neck as both of his hands settle on your waist, thumbs playing with the hem of your shirt.

“I’d rather not,” you admit rather shamelessly. You can feel Osamu’s lips curve upwards against your skin as his hands give you a slight squeeze.

“If ya say so,” he says before one of his hands reaches between the two of you to untie your apron. “If ya ever need me to stop, let me know.”

You nod your head absentmindedly, slightly dizzy from the reality of what’s happening right now. One of his hands begins to slide upwards from your waist, cupping your clothed breast and giving it a squeeze, while the other slips downwards under your apron and pushes past the waistband of your shorts, hovering over your panties. Suddenly very aware of the wetness between your legs, you move to close them a little.

“That won’t do ya any good,” Osamu mutters against the back of your neck. As if to prove his point, he presses his middle finger against your clothed slit and swipes upward, humming to himself. “Yer practically dripping and I haven’t even started yet.”

A moan slips past your lips and you can only bite your lip in embarrassment at your own shamelessness.

“It’s just the two of us; you don’t have to be quiet,” he says, as if encouraging you to be as loud as you want and disturb your neighbors. When you still refuse to make another noise, he nudges your legs open with his knees, almost forcing you to lean over the counter for support. As if to further prove his point, he pushes your panties aside and slips his middle finger in between your folds, causing you to let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden intrusion.

“Osamu,” you whimper as you feel him kiss his way towards the back of your ear.

“What is it, baby?” His finger is still and unmoving inside of you as you try to gain any sort of friction, attempting to grind your hips against him. His hand doesn’t move as you feel his tongue trace the outer shell of your ear.

“Stop teasing me,” you practically whimper as you ball your hands into fists on the surface in front of you.

“What do ya want me to do?” He sounds smug and you can almost visualize his teasing smirk behind your closed lids.

“Just fuck me,” you say. You fight the embarrassment heating your cheeks, too aroused to focus on anything else.

“I know we’ve been living together for awhile now, but let’s not forget our manners,” he says, beginning to slide his finger out.

“M’Samu, please fuck me!” It comes out too eagerly, too desperately, but you want him to just do something to you.

“That’s all you needed to say,” he lets out a soft chuckle before he slides his finger back in. You find yourself leaning completely on the countertop so you don’t buckle under him and moan when he slides another finger inside, stretching you.

You were right; his fingers reach so much further than yours ever could.

His calloused fingers continue to thrust in and out of you at a steady pace as his other hand that had been on your breast moves down to slip under your shirt. You bite your lip as you feel him expertly unclip the bra before sliding around to cup the flesh, nudging your loose bra aside. His fingers pinch your hardening nipple and you breathe out his name.

“Careful there, sweetheart,” he practically grunts, “if ya keep soundin’ like that, I won’t be goin’ easy on ya.”

Part of you has half the mind to take him up on the offer while the other is failing to form coherent words and thoughts.

A familiar tension begins to pull at your lower abdomen as you feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. It seems that Osamu’s also aware, quickly slipping his hands out from your dripping cunt.

“Why’d you stop?” You whine as you turn back to look at him. He offers a smirk before removing his hands completely from your pants and lifting his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. The way his half-lidded eyes are locked on yours as he swirls his tongue around makes you clench helplessly around nothing.

“Don’t worry, yer gonna thank me later,” he says, dropping his hand. He begins to lower himself so he’s on his knees on the ground before he pulls your shorts and panties down in one clean tug. The cool air hits your wet heat and you bite your lip at the sensation.

You watch him with anticipation as he leans forward, using both hands to massage your ass a couple times before spreading the cheeks apart. He nudges your feet so you can spread a little wider for him, which you wordlessly oblige, and inhale shakily as he leans forward and licks a fat stripe up your slit.

“Fuck, Osamu,” you hiss as you turn back to look at him. You use one hand to reach around and weave your fingers through his hair, fisting it as he begins to sloppily lap at your cunt.

His tongue dives in and out, the wet squelch echoing around the apartment. You feel your legs tremble as he angles his head to reach a bit further before opting to have his fingers rejoin the fun. Your moans sound nearly pornographic as you attempt to grip at anything, unable to get yourself to properly stand as Osamu wags his head a couple times, swirling his tongue in the process.

A sharp gasp leaves you when you feel his fingers angle themselves and hit a spot you didn’t even know existed, your walls beginning to clench and flutter around him.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan, pushing his head deeper against you. You feel him hum against you as if to encourage you to release onto his face, so you do.

A strangled cry erupts from your throat as you feel every nerve ending spark up and you come undone above him. He lets you grind your hips against him a couple more times before he pulls away, breathing heavily as he stands up. He turns you around by your hips and you see your slick coating his lips and chin.

“Look at this mess,” he taunts you, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. You don’t say anything and wrap your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to taste yourself. As you do so, he makes quick work to get rid of his sweatpants and pulls away to lift his shirt over his head. You go ahead and do the same with your apron, tossing it onto the island behind him and removing your shirt and bra to leave the both of you stark naked in the kitchen.

You take a brief moment to unabashedly check him out, admiring how toned and built he is. Chewing on your bottom lip, you let your fingers trace along the hardened and defined lines of his abdomen, trailing your fingers down to palm him through his boxers. You see the fabric straining and recognize the heat rising to your cheeks as you feel how hard he is, creating a slightly darkened and damp spot where the head of his cock is located. You glance up at him and meet eyes as you hook your thumbs on his waistband, pulling them down. His length practically springs to life, standing proud and tall before you and your mouth practically waters at the sight.

Wrapping your fingers around the base, you bite your lip as you drag your hand upwards to the tip and collect his beading precum, spreading it around generously with the pad of your thumb before using it as lubricant to continue stroking him.

“Fuck,” he moans softly as you lick your lips, getting ready to get on your knees to return the favor that he so generously had given you moments ago. He grabs your wrist to stop you and you look at him curiously. “As much as I’d love to see you suck my cock, I just want to be inside of that pussy of yours right now.”

The hungry look in his eyes is all you need before you kiss him again, this time much sloppier than the previous ones. He maneuvers you around the kitchen for a moment and before you know it, you’re bent over the island countertop with a leg propped up on the cool surface. You hear Osamu spit into his hand and look back to see him give his thick cock a couple generous strokes before positioning himself with one hand while the other holds your hip.

You feel the bulbous head nudge your lower set of lips apart before slowly easing in, your back arching at the pressure already building inside of you. A soft hiss escapes your throat as you try to take all of him, grateful when he pauses once he’s bottomed out within you. You take a deep breath for a moment and feel your muscles relax slightly as you adjust accordingly.

“Are ya ready?” Osamu’s voice comes out surprisingly soft as he leans over you, placing a kiss between your shoulder blades. You nod quietly before feeling both hands on your hips as he slowly begins to pull out. You realize just how thick he is when you feel empty, though it doesn’t last for long when he slams right back into you. A strangled mewl bubbles from your throat as he begins to thrust in and out of you. You lower yourself onto your elbows on the counter and ball your hands into fists, no longer caring how you sound; you’re too lost in your own wave of pleasure.

As Osamu continues his ministrations, you feel the counter buzz slightly and hazily look around with half a mind to simply ignore it. You see Osamu’s phone shaking across the surface next to your discarded apron, the screen lit up with an unfamiliar name.

“’Samu, your phone,” you say between moans, “your phone is ringing.”

His hips slow, though his thrusts continue to hit deep inside of you. He doesn’t have to reach far to grab it and glances at the screen.

“Shit,” he hisses under his breath. “Stay still for me, will ya?”

You halfheartedly nod your head, though you can’t help but whine at the loss of friction as he stills inside of you.

“Hello?” His voice is even as he answers quickly. “This is Osamu, yes.”

It’s hard to ignore the slight frustration bubbling in your chest as he uses one hand to keep your hips still while the other holds his phone. He continues to speak formally, so you assume it’s probably someone important or has something to do with work. You know better than to tease him in the event that this call is actually important, but you can’t resist the urge to just roll your hips a little.

There’s a slight hitch in Osamu’s voice before he clears his throat, though it sounds more like a warning to you than anything. However, that doesn’t stop you as you grow more bold, deciding to create your own rhythm of shallow thrusts. His grip on your hip tightens, though it’s not enough to hurt you just yet.

“Something just came up, so I’m gonna have to call ya back,” you hear Osamu say, his voice becoming more strained as each second ticks by. When he finally hangs up, the phone smacks onto the table, startling you to a halt.

“Sorry, I couldn’t w-”

“Ya think yer so cute, dontcha? I told ya to stay still.” His voice is dangerously low as he hunches over, practically growling in your ear. You whimper softly in response, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. You’re not sure if you should be as turned on as you are right now, feeling your walls clench around him.

He stands upright and reaches around to grab one of your arms, practically yanking you back so you’re also standing up. His other hand reaches around to grab your other arm, pinning your wrists behind your back.

“If yer gonna act like a slut, I’m gonna fuck ya like one,” he snarls lowly and you resist the urge to moan. He manages to reach for your apron and rolls it up, looping it around your elbows.

As one hand holds your newly bound arms behind your back, the other holds your hips before he begins to pull out of you. You feel his whole length leave you empty with the exception of the tip and you’re about to complain again when you feel him slam back in roughly.

“Is this what ya thought of when ya were touchin’ yerself?”

You hardly contain the cry of mixed pain and pleasure as your back arches, his hips snapping against yours at a relentless pace. You can barely process his words, though you know the embarrassment will hit you later; you simply can’t form coherent enough thoughts to care. The hand that was on your hip leaves but only momentarily before his palm claps against your ass. You yelp in surprise as he releases your arms.

“What, did ya never get spanked as a kid?” Osamu taunts as he rubs the reddening skin. You lean back over, supporting yourself on your elbows. His comment barely processes in your head as he does it again.

Coherent words fail to form as you feel your legs begin to tremble. You’re practically running towards another orgasm and you can tell Osamu is too, based on his unstable rhythm and sloppier movements. You feel one of his hands reach around you to play with your nipples while you let your own hand rub your clit, the sensations overwhelming you in a crashing wave of pure bliss.

As your walls tighten and flutter, Osamu pulls out and fists his cock a couple times before you feel hot ropes of cum paint your back and ass, a guttural groan leaving him.

“Holy fuck,” he pants once he recovers from his orgasm. You’re still shaking, bent over the island, breathing heavily.

A dull ringing can be heard in your ears from the intensity of your climax, but you faintly hear the sink running for a moment. Not long after, you feel a warm and damp towel wipe across the mess on your backside and Osamu’s gentle arm pulls you up.

“Hey, was I too rough on ya?” His voice is soft and you shake your head. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he hands you your clothes from the ground. “Do ya wanna eat now and shower later?”

“Yeah, I’m starving,” you sigh as your head begins to clear up. You look over to your forgotten food, your mouth curving downwards into a frown. “Wait, did you not turn off the stove?”

“I was a little preoccupied.”