#mid-july reading wrap up

[cohldhands]

𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 | 𝘬𝘪𝘣𝘢 𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘢

pairing: bff!kiba x afab!reader word count: 7.9k warnings: nsfw! 18+! minors DNI! | just two best friends helpin' each other out, virgin!reader wants experience and kiba has it, pussydrunk!kiba, praise kink, oral (f! and m!recieving), primal play (kinda? like a sprinkle?), unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), he's down for you and its bad, other characters mentioned, all characters in their early/mid 20s, not thoroughly proofread, no use of y/n author's note: this is 100% based on some thirsting that @tired-biscuit and i did for this man and... well, here we are. i listened to "nayhoo" by chon while writing the first bit of this. i also didn't anticipate it to be this long... 😅 it's my first time in a long ass time writing second-person as well, so just be gentle. there will absolutely be (at least) a part two where shit devolves at ino's new apt. i hope yall enjoy!

you can also read this on AO3 here.

KIBA’s fingers twitch as he watches you place a piece of strawberry into your mouth, your lips encasing your delicate fingertips in a way he knows should be innocent, should be just friends having lunch together, but it’s not. It hasn’t been for a long time. 

Dappled sunlight filters in through the full, vibrant trees towering above you, and the incessant hum of cicadas fills the air, mixing with the cadence of rustling leaves in the summer breeze. Loose, thin clothes, skin glazed in a thin layer of humidity and sweat, clammy hands from thrumming heartbeats.

Summer has always been a favorite time for the both of you, ever since the summer you moved to Konoha during your childhood. The summer that changed everything. Sticky sweetness, endless days, sunburnt cheeks. Ever since, you and Kiba have been attached at the hip, having lived in the house just down the street and your mothers working together. Hours of fetch with Akamaru, rock skipping competitions with Shino as referee, hushed conversations with Hinata about Naruto. He accepted you with open arms; they all did. 

“Just another one of the pack.”

Kiba hated when you and Hinata would sneak off, however. He’d bribe Shino—or attempt to—just to spy and listen. When Shino would call him out on his reddened ears, his anticipation in finding out the girl talk, his picking at his nails until you would return, he’d tug his hoodie up and change the subject.

“You like her.” Shino would tell him, plainly, a fact of life. 

“No!” the brunette would huff. “She’s just a friend.”

Kiba takes a swig from his canteen, a drip of water fumbling from his lip to his chin when he pulls it away. He blinks away the memories of summers, of lifetimes spent under the same blazing sun. Sunburnt chests, laying on Akamaru with bare arms pressed to each other while looking for aliens, small, small clothes.

“That’s what friends are for, Kiba!” You say through the small bite. 

“It’s going to be so hot though,” he whines, throwing his head back with his forehead scrunched in irritation. “Who the fuck moves in the middle of July? You know who? Crazy people, that’s who.”

“Whether you like it or not, Ino is moving,” you shake your head at him, a hint of playful irritation on your drawl as you watch his head tilt back, the expanse of his neck exposed. A dare, a first kiss, a summer night. “And we both agreed to help her. Besides, it’ll go by quick with all of us helping. You’ll be okay. ”

“So annoying.” He croaks, but then he lets his head fall forward. His intense, dark eyes settle on yours once more, and he fights the urge to drink you in the way he does when you’re not looking. When you’re fidgeting while you’re trying to beat him at Mario Kart, when your face is scrunched in concentration when you’re aiming a kunai. 

He sends a sideways glance at Akamaru—a lifeline, a phone-a-friend— and the white-haired dog lets out the equivalent of a mumble and a shrug. 

Kiba throws his hands in the air, exhaling a “Fine! Fine.”

“You’re such a baby.” You laugh, a teasing yet light sound.

A sound that causes a flutter to rampage through his chest, and a restrained tug of a smile spreads across his features in response. But he’s practiced this, practiced suppressing the itch in his hands to reach out, to kiss you, to breathe in that laugh as if it was the air itself he needs.

He already does that with your scent alone.

“Whatever.” He grabs a clump of rice in his chopsticks and eats it. 

You can tell there’s a hint of something underneath the surface with Kiba, something that’s hard to pinpoint. Of course, during your girl talks with Hinata, you’d open your heart to her. About how Kiba didn’t scare you, despite his animalistic side, how he just wanted attention, that’s why he acts that way, about how much you had to refrain from squirming when he looked at you as you both got older.

She’d gasp when you would talk that way, but she’d always add her own tidbit of girlish tension in a hushed voice.

“So, uh… w-while we’re talking about favors…” you start, your eyes falling to the bento box in your lap. 

“If you’re moving, too, the whole ride-or-die thing goes out of the window.”

“No, fuck no!” Another light laugh, another shake of your head, but this time more at yourself than anything. If only it was just moving...

You’ve been mulling on asking him about this for weeks now. You’d recently met a boy, because you, too, have practiced the art of burying the want to grab him, to feel the ripple of muscles that dance underneath the fishnet material of his shirt, to tangle your fingers in his hair and find out if he likes his hair tugged the way you do, if he doesn’t, moving yourself against him until his desires tumble out of him on their own. 

But you’ve met a boy, Jun, who is sweet. Kind. A responsible, gentle Ninja. You’re in no way committed, no title. Your mother adores him, your father respects him. He’s yet to make you uncomfortable, opens doors for you, brings you flowers every time he sees you. You’ve gone on a few dates with him, and you like him—enough to want more than the heavy petting and stale kisses. But then there is a small part of you, small yet persistent enough—

“The way a man feels about you is crystal clear when you bed ‘im,” Ino had told you once during a ‘girl’s night’ at Sakura’s. 

“What do you mean?” 

“If he truly wants you,” the blonde continued, jabbing her finger in your direction. “He can’t fake that while buried inside.”

“I’m convinced love has its own chakra,” Sakura had added. “It moves between you and the other person. Like a bolt of lightning.”

“Or a burning fire.”

The small part of you that craves to see if he’d do it, and if you’d be able to tell which natural disaster would rage between you—if one at all. 

“What’s with the serious-ass face? You’re scaring me…” Kiba continues, his voice pulling you back to the here and now. He leans forward to catch your eyes again, then continues in a whisper. “Do we need to hide a body?”

“Kiba—”

“Oh, wait, it is serious.” He clears his throat and sits up, a different demeanor taking him over. His gaze fixates on you, his position stiffening as he studies you in a fraction of a moment. “‘Kay, sorry. What’s up?”

“It’s about Jun.”

His muscles tighten, and he places his bento box on the blanket you’re both sitting on. The guy who takes you on dates, the guy he can tell you’re not head over heel for. Jun, who fills the time, because Kiba can tell sweet Jun bores you. At least, that’s what Kiba tells himself. “Okay.”

“Uh… I don’t really know how to ask this, so I’m just going to.” You shift in your seat, mustering the gumption to speak clearly, forward, just ask your best friend for a favor. A dare, the childhood magic in special first kisses, adult magic in special first times. Not wanting to look like a dunce to the boy your mother adores, your father respects.

“I want to sleep with Jun, but I’ve never… ya know. And you have, so—”

Ba-dum. A heavy heartbeat, thick in his ears, piercing his palms.

His eyes widen, dark and yet darker, darker still. Heat floods his cheeks, bubbling under his skin and filling his abdomen. The swelling of a storm.

Ba-dum.

“I know it’s weird, a-and you can absolutely say no. You’re my best friend, though, and it’s not like I can just ask anyone. This isn’t like a new development either, I wanted to wait to ask you—n-not that I’ve just been, ya know, thinking about this and you. I just have zero experience, you know that, but I want to be a bit more confident in—”

Ba-dum.

“Do you like him?” Kiba’s voice falls flat, more flat than he anticipates, but the words hang there. Screaming cicadas, colliding tree branches. “Really, truly like him?”

Ba-dum.

“Yeah.” You nod. You’re convincing yourself and lying to him all at the same time. But maybe, just maybe trusting Kiba with this moment, with your first time, with breaking the barrier between fantasy and reality—maybe it won’t be so bad. “I do.”

“Then I’ll do it.” He swallows the solid lump in his throat, convincing himself and lying to you all at the same time. “Besides, that’s what friends are for.”

—

Kiba told you he’d come over later that evening, to do whatever it is that made you most comfortable. Shower, don’t shower. Shave, don’t shave. Wear whatever it is you wanted, to pretend like he was just coming over like he always did, to hang out like you always did.

You couldn’t sit still the moment you got home. You cleaned and showered. Tried to read, tried to scroll through your phone, tried to do any- and everything you could to not get caught up in the motions of it all, fought yourself for ten minutes on if you should even light a candle or not because it’s not like that but damn it—

Yes it is.

But this wouldn’t mean anything, right? Regardless of a candle lit, which made the whole space smell of honeysuckle and lemon, it’s just your best friend, doing you a favor: teaching you how to work a cock by using his. 

Oh, god, his cock. What would it look like? Feel like? Would it curve, or would it be veiny? The thought alone causes you to fidget in your seat on the couch, your eyes darting between the clock on your phone and the front door to your apartment. You feel your heartbeat in your ears and in your core, pulsing. Arousal pools in your underwear at the mere thought of him—how did you expect to function?—and you pinch your thighs together.

You still couldn’t believe he had agreed. And Kiba couldn’t either, even as he meandered his way to your door, his eyes steadfast in the direction of your apartment building. What made either of you think this was a good idea? Was his practice paying off? Did he want it to? He had finally, finally been offered the invitation, the “come over” call that he dreamed of. He had hoped, however, that the circumstances would be different, that it would be for him.

Two heavy knocks on the door alert you to his presence, though somehow you’re sure you catch the scent of his body wash before his knuckles meet the wood. You pull the door open. Musk, earth, hazelnut, bergamot. Messy kitchens, ugly, delicious cookies, using his shower and wearing his clothes. 

He’s bathed as well, his hair still slightly damp as it hangs above his shoulders. A wide grin flashes over his face, his eyes disappearing into the image, his teeth catching the overhead light. Your face fills with a weighty heat, and your abdomen flutters at the sight of his broad shoulders and his toned arms under the fabric of his shirt. 

He’s opted for his usual lounge attire: a t-shirt, joggers, and sneakers. In his hands are takeout—he’s always eating—and drinks for you to share. You felt underdressed somehow in your own home, donning a thin-fabriced, comfortable yet cute t-shirt and shorts combination—something you’d worn around him countless times. Yet, he’d shown up like this countless times, food and a smile in tow, and he somehow seems more prepared than you’d ever seen him. The way he’s standing tall, his chest open to you… had he prepared?

Despite the vanilla-scented body-wash and the floral candle, the moment the door opens, revealing you in your post-shower, pre-coitus flush, he takes in the intoxicating scent of your arousal, of your skin, of you, and he presses his intent further into his smile. Not here, not now, not just past the threshold.

“Brought food. I doubt you ate.” 

This motherfu—

“Thanks. I… actually haven’t eaten, now that I think about it.”

The tension is palpable. He’s trying a little too hard not to look at you, to not brush by you and linger. Though, he doesn’t understand why. You’d asked him to come over and help you, to quell the curiosity of experience, to be good for Jun. 

The swelling of a violent storm.

You step aside and allow him in, and he does what he always does: makes himself at home, rummages through your cabinets for plates, a fork, two cups. You watch his hands maneuver whatever he’s holding, the muscles in his forearms. He keeps his nose buried in the food, trying to find something, anything to focus on other than you, in all of your totality. 

Kiba jokes with you, carries on conversation while he divides out the food, move to the couch, sit just far enough to not touch, yet close enough to still feel each other’s body warmth. He’s talking and talking, rambling about the day you had already heard about, about a new bug Shino had shown him, about the hot springs he wants to go to in the town over. Maybe, just maybe, he’s nervous, too. 

He jokes with you, as if he’s not already imagining your velvety throat wrapped around his aching girth, your face contorted in pleasure as he laps his tongue over your sensitive clit, his name tumbling out of your mouth, hitched and squeaked: “Kiba, Kiba—!”

“Ki-ba~!” You wave a hand over his glazed-over eyes as you call his name, sing-song and light, an attempt to bring him back from wherever he disappeared to as he’s stuck, freeze-frame, a cup halfway lifted to his mouth. You lean against the back of the couch toward him, only slightly, with an eyebrow cocked and a grin peeling back the corners of our mouth. “Where did you go, bud?”

There’s a split second, less than a blink of an eye where his hand is holding his drink; the next, it’s wrapped around your wrist, the cup on the table. How did he…?

His grip is tight, steadying, but then it eases by a fraction, and he finds himself studying the palm of your hand, imagining it wrapped around his throbbing, swollen girth, before his eyes flick up to yours, his jaw clenched, tight, teeth grinding as the wheels he’d frozen over long ago begin to turn, churning, yearning— 

“Why did you ask me to do this?” His voice is low, hoarse, carried by a held breath, a tight chest. 

There’s an underlying shift happening, and you can feel it in the soles of your feet, the palms of your hands. He somehow seems larger, taller, more devious. A full moon, an autumn night, finding out the ride the full moon sent him on before he disappears, unable to show you the animal that wanted to come out and ravage you, the side of Kiba he saves for the girls he will never see again because he can’t ruin you, you’re his best friend, his confidant.

Ba-dum.

He’s close, so close to you that you can see the pulse of his heartbeat in his neck. So close that the burning heat radiating off of him causes your own skin to surge, your heart to lurch, the damned fluttering in your abdomen. His eyes are zeroed in on you, black irises inflamed with dilated pupils. Hungry, restrained. Electricity ignites within your veins under his touch. He’s touched you, many times. A hug, a helping hand, a comforting shoulder. Why does this feel different?

“Because I trust you.”

Ba-dum.

His heart swells, clawing at his ribcage, screaming to be set free. You trust him. With your secrets, with your life, with your body. His gaze flicks on your lips, only for a moment, before his devilish eyes find yours once more. 

Ba-dum.

“Have you ever even touched a cock before?” He murmurs, his tone taking on something silken and starved. He pivots his body to turn, his eyebrow cocked, a whisper of a coy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and he closes the space between you, the space that’s always between you. 

You blink as a prickling heat travels up your spine, his question as well as his shift in energy catching you off-guard. Kiba’s never spoken to you, let alone around you this way, even when joking. Though he told you whenever he brought a girl home, or made out with another, you’re sure the gruesome details of his sexual escapades were dumped on Shino, or maybe even Naruto, if anyone. But you’re familiar with the wild look in Kiba’s eyes, the way he’s looking at you: a predator searching for his prey. The other side of Kiba.

“You’d know if I—” You start, but your words catch in your throat as you attempt to let them spill all over your kitchen counter. Even if it had happened, would you tell him? Would it have been in confidence, to share a story time, or would it have been to get even a chance to see a flicker of jealousy, of rage, of something? “No, I haven’t. N-not, ya know… skin to skin, anyway.”

The sting of embarrassment bubbles in our throat, your voice smaller than you wanted it, and whispers nothing good into your ears, but you maintain your eye contact. You made the first pitch, and now it’s game time. 

“And you’re sure you want me to be the first?” He asks before he brings your palm to lips and presses a wet yet tender kiss to it. The notion surprises him, that he allowed himself more than anything, but he knows what it’s doing to you—he can smell it. “I do also have your first kiss, so I’d be two-for-two, bud.” 

The feeling of his mouth on you sends coursing fire to your cunt, and you can almost, almost feel his lips against your now-soaked folds. And he’s patronizing you, a playful lilt clinging to the nickname, but you don’t hate it. It’s Kiba, in totality. Him making sure, despite his coy grin and thirsty eyes, only makes you want him more.

“I don’t know if that really counts…” You mutter. It does count, and it’s always counted, but he doesn’t need to know that. A stupid game of truth or dare one adolescent summer, the summer you knew you’d never rid your thoughts of Kiba. A summer initiating the biggest game of make-believe.

“How rude.” He smiles against your hand, and his hot breath and pointed canines brush against your palm. He shrugs, his grip falling from your arm, and then he exhales a dramatic sigh. “I guess I’ll have to make up for it, then. Can’t have meaningless kisses out there.”

Ba-dum.

Lighting cracks inside of you as his large hands splay across your hips and pull you into his lap. Your hands scramble, only for a moment, before one lands on the back of the couch, and the other finds purchase on his shoulder.

The battle within him is raging, a savage and destructive thing. He wants to take you, now, now, but he can’t, he won’t. You’re not the girls he’s given meaningless kisses to. You’re his best friend, and he’s waited this long. 

He can wait just a little bit longer.

Ba-dum.

Draping your thighs around his hips, he looks up at you with earnest eyes, a moment of hesitation between you two as he waits for a no, a wait, a maybe we shouldn’t. The pulsing heat of his cock strains against his joggers, pressed firmly against your core as he holds you against him. Though muffled by the thick denim, you feel the aching throb beneath you, the pulsing twitch, the size. 

Ba-dum.

When the blockade doesn’t come, and you meet his gaze with an equally intrigued look, his grip on your shirt tightens. He cranes his neck up, and he whispers against your lips, “I have a rule.”

Your heart stutters at the husk in his voice, the low demand for attention. “Okay…”

“If you have questions, ask. And—eh, I guess two rules.” Kiba murmurs against your lips, his face flushed in the dim lighting. “If you want something, tell me.”

Your ears burn, the flush causing your skin to prickle. Your hair hangs at the side of your face, closing you and Kiba into a world of your own, the world you both have always played in. Just the two of you. 

“Okay.” You nod, your body ignited in a burning flame. “I will.”

Kiba’s lips collide with yours, rough and excited, then soften, pull back, relax, as his hands tangle the fabric of your shirt in their grasp, and his hips tilt up into yours. A slight movement, one he barely notices himself, but the weight of you on him alone sends a shiver through his body. Another subconscious jerk of his pelvis, reacting to the warmth, the weight, you you you. 

The air in your lungs vanishes as his lips bring a reprieve, a cold drink on a hot summer day, lifting the lid before it all boils over, and your grip on his shoulder tightens. Head spinning, a drunken buzz just from his kiss. There’s a small moment that wonders if this is actually a fantasy, something you’ve conjured up in your head, a fever dream. 

Your own hips move as you run your tongue along his bottom lip, adding intent as you roll against him, slow, methodical, feeling his entirety through the mere layers of fabric separating the two of you. Always something in the way.

A heavy breath against your lips, he opens his mouth and allows the dance to commence, a slow dance that soon turns into a tango, fervent, impassioned, both of your bodies submitting to what they’ve desired. He tastes of takeout and impulse decisions, sunburnt cheeks, swollen lips, a stupid crush that isn’t a crush but a fact of life. Your hold on the couch releases, and your fingers tangle in his head of dark, thick hair. A grounding grip, a slight tautness against the nape of his neck. 

“Fuck…” He huffs before he nips at your bottom lip, his fingers dip underneath your shirt, grazing the flesh of your hips. He takes handfuls of your hips and brings you down against him further, closer, closing more of the space, more of that damned thing always in the fucking way. His lips trail from yours to your neck, the space below your ear, and he runs a flattened tongue along your skin, tasting it, breathing you in before sloppy kisses decorate your neck.

Your eyes fall hooded, and a light pant tumbles out of you at the contact. He sucks at a particular spot, bringing blood to the surface, his canines barred against your flesh.

“Kiba!” You gasp, the hint of a nervousness in your tone, and you detach yourself, only slightly, slightly. “You can’t leave any marks.”

“Sorry, sorry!” He chuckles, and then it hits him, crashes into him that you’re there, he’s here, and he’s supposed to be teaching you and yet, yet, he’s caught in the tidal wave of learning you. His cheeks and ears tinge with a beet red glaze, and he swallows thickly as he stares up at you. “I’ll try to remember.”

“But I want you to.” is what you want to say, but you don’t. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure with another light laugh. “I’ll be sure to remind you.”

“I’m happy you did. Don’t ever feel like you can’t speak up with someone, especially if you’re, ya know… If a guy doesn’t listen to you, he—wait, what are you—” 

He had started to ramble, stumbling in the moment of stillness. You, however, found the moment to be just when the courage hit to reach a delicate hand down and trace the edge of his joggers. 

“I want to see it.” Your eyes flick to his lap, to the strained outline of his still throbbing, stiff cock before finding his gaze again. 

Stunned, he stares up at you with wide eyes. Your words echo in his head, over and over, his ears ringing at the sound of your inquiry. When the blockade, the no, the maybe we shouldn't, doesn't come, you peel yourself away from him and lower yourself between his spread knees. 

The swelling storm brews inside of him, the savage and violent force of nature. Wait, wait, relax. 

“Thank you for telling me.” His eyes don’t leave you as you swallow another weighty lump in your throat, and you pull at the combined bands of his joggers and underwear. He lifts himself up, just enough to help slide the two layers of fabric off of him, watching your reaction.

When his erect member springs up at the sudden relief and twitches, your eyes widen. It’s nothing like the ones you had seen on a screen, but it's like the ones people write about. Thick is an understatement, and two prominent veins run along his length. A pink head, the color of his lips, donned with a dribble of clear slick and wrapped in taut skin. The image of his aching cock sends heat pooling at your core, and you shift in your spot—though it only makes things worse, and your heartbeat thrums in your clit.

He sucks in a breath at your innocent gape, the sight causing his mind to go to dark places where you’re screaming his name, head buried against the mattress, it’s too deep, I’m gonna break, his hand tangled in your mess of hair.

You glance up at him in his flustered state, before you turn your eyes downward and wrap a unsure but willing hand around the base. His hips jerk into your touch, and one of his hands finds purchase on the couch cushion, his knuckles whitening as he keeps himself grounded by his grip. His mind is reeling, a flipbook of the thousand positions he’d kill to see you in, put you in.

“Shit…” He spits through clenched teeth. 

“Did I—” You freeze.

“N-no, you’re fine, you can—” He starts, but your slow, fisted movement up and then down his shaft cuts him off. “Yeah, like that…”

“That’s okay?” You ask as you slowly pump your hand around him, your eyes flicking between his length in your hand and his eyes on you. 

“Y-Yeah.” Kiba nods, saliva pooling in his mouth as he watches you, dinner and dessert in front of him on a silver platter. He clears his throat, the anticipation making him fidgety. The longer he had to wait, the more the pulsing desperation in his length called to him, begging him for release. 

He has to wait a little bit longer. 

You nod, and then you sit up on your knees and tighten your grip, just slightly, and increase your pace. His eyebrows pull together as he continues to observe, a face of pleasure, and you feel another wave of heat rush under your skin. Your hand reaches the tip, and the precum allows the smallest bit of lubrication as you twist your hand, up and down. 

“You’re doing a good job,” he groans, his voice deeper than before, hoarse, restrained. Hearing him like this, praising you, you’re sure you’ll go insane by the end of the night—if you weren’t already.  “You can use your mouth, too.”

“I know!” You quip, embarrassment tingling your cheeks. “I was getting there. Though I don’t know if it’ll fit…” The last bit is more for yourself than anything, said under your breath, but he hears you, and he can’t help but imagine you choking on his fat cock, tears streaming down your face. 

Ba-dum.

You lean forward, your eyes crossing as you near your target, and your hand settles at the base. You can do this, you tell yourself, before an unsure yet more than willing tongue licks at his cockhead. He tastes of salt and velvet, and your waiting eyes flick up at him. 

“Like that,” he purrs, his deep eyes, dark and yet darkening, narrowed on you by the time you’re looking at him. So intent on watching you, committing the scene to memory.

The encouragement leads you to flatten your tongue and run it along the length of one of the veins. His girth twitches in reaction, accompanied by a breathy curse and a jerk upwards of his hips, though this time intentional.

“Around the tip,” he instructs, his voice trapped somewhere between a groan and a whine. It’s the best he can do to keep himself from fucking into your throat. 

You do as he says, swirling your hot tongue around the pink head, collecting his slick in your mouth and finding yourself relishing in the taste. 

“Good girl. You’re doing so good.” He pants as his hand, purposefully slow, pushes your hair out of your face and collects it into a loose bunch at the back of your head. His head feels light, like if he doesn’t hold onto you someway, somehow, he’s going to float away. 

The two syllables bring your thighs together, a thrum of pressure building in your cunt. You’re soaked already, you can feel it gathering in your underwear, but something about his tone, his dilated eyes downcast, his heedless praise that urges you further, to slowly and messily run glaze his skin with your tongue, circling, up, down. You wanted to hear it more, hear his sounds of pleasure, hear his words of adoration. For him to touch you, everywhere.

And he knows. He senses the shift in your energy, the way you tense up when he encourages you, and he smells it, the collection of wetness just one, two layers away. His grip on your hair tightens, tension gathered at the nape of your neck.  

You swirl your tongue once, twice, three times around the tip before you wrap your pretty lips around his cock, sucking at it.

A popsicle, a strawberry at lunchtime, brewing electricity.

“Oh, fuck—” Kiba growls, and his hips buck into the warmth of your mouth as you bob your head, taking small, increasing portions of him each time, little moans vibrating his skin. “Shit, yes, like that. So fucking good.”

A slippery tongue, fingers tangling in hair, flashing lightning.

“Such a good girl. Move your hand while you—yes.” He pants as he watches his cock disappear into your throat, your hand pumping whatever you don’t take in your mouth. 

Two gazes met. 

Ba-dum. 

The crackling roll of thunder.

Within a moment, he scoops you up with a huff of impatience—so fucking fast, how does he do that—and you let out a yelp of surprise.

“Kiba!” You squirm as you’re placed over his shoulder and carried into your bedroom. 

He doesn’t answer you verbally; instead, he shrugs you onto the bed, and you land on your back. His erect member is still out, fully exposed, but he doesn't pay any mind to it as he takes fistfuls of your shorts and tugs them off, unwrapping you, a little present, just for him. 

“Kiba, what are you—” You start, but your words tangle in your throat when he rids you of your underwear, letting them fall to the floor. Unwrapped, a present, just for him. 

“Oh!” You exclaim when he hooks his arms under your thighs and tugs you to the edge of the bed. 

He falls to his knees, his intense eyes falling to your glistening folds. You smell even sweeter this way, and his head buzzes, dizzied, intoxicated as he drinks you in. His composure is slipping, and he wastes no time lapping his tongue along your slit, from entrance to clit. 

“Oh…!” You purr, and then you muffle yourself with your hand as schlurp sound comes from him kissing your cunt, sloppy and hasty. His tongue is rough against your sensitive skin, and when it catches your swollen bud, your hips jerk under him, moaning against your palm. 

“No,” he huffs against you in that hoarse, demanding voice. He laps his tongue along your entirety, and then he suckles at your throbbing clit, his eyes watching, always watching. “I wanna hear you.”

“But what if—ahh, fuck—!” You tremble under his touch, your voice hushed, and you grip the blanket. You, too, feel the weightlessness, the risk of drifting away if you don’t. Your face contorts into bliss as your back arches, pushing yourself against his mouth. It’s like you’re vibrating, hanging in a space between fantasy and reality. This isn’t real, it can’t be, his mouth can’t feel that good, not Kiba’s mouth, not—

His nails press into your skin as he holds on to you, pulling you closer, closer to him as he eats you, his fervent and messy movements building a tension in your abdomen more intense than anything you’ve accomplished by yourself. His tongue teases your entrance, your nectar driving him further. He delves it into you, holding you against him as he fucks his appendage into your sopping cunt.

“Kiba—” You moan into the air, your other hand finally finding purchase on his arm, clinging to him. 

His name tumbles from your lips, and for a moment, he swears the world goes silent, a deafening ringing filling his ears as you call out. He feels you tightening around him, a bewildered aura taking him over. He’s now desperate for your release, to feel you squirm and writhe underneath him, to keep calling his name. He trails his tongue back to your clit, flicking, circling as a slender finger finds your entrance. It slips inside, your arousal coating his skin, and it pumps in and out of you, restrained, slow.

“Oh, god,” you exhale, your eyes widening as he adds another finger, his digits curling inside of you. “Oh, that feels so good, fuck.”

“Mmmhh.” He watches you arch off the bed, his nose pressed to your mound, his tongue making quick and heavy work of your pulsing clit, stretching you as he adds another finger, slow, waiting for the blockade, the maybe we shouldn’t.

His pulsing length twitches, a violent motion that calls his attention, but he forces it out of his mind. This is about you, about stretching you and pushing you over the edge, your sweet release. The tightness of your walls tells him it's soon, your body tense. 

Instead, his pumping of his slender digits is met with another cry of his name. Three fingers stuffed, his fingertips massaging the sweet spot inside of you. The burn of the stretch pulls your eyebrows together, and yet you roll your hips against him, wanting the friction, craving the release, another explosion of deafening thunder, the swelling thunderstorm that is Kiba.

“Ki-Kiba, I’m gonna—” You can’t even finish your sentence. It hits you, almost out of nowhere. You’re unraveling, your legs shaking, your skin on fire and the swelling storm raging, ravaging your entire body as it caves in. Your juices pour out of you, trickling down his chin, and he drinks you up with another loud schlurp.

“Fuck.” He groans against you, and his lips envelop your clit as he pumps his fingers into back you, his tongue resuming its assault. His fingers move in you with a faster pace, a hardened pressure against the spongy flesh inside of you. “I need you to cum again. To be ready for my cock.”

“Oh, shit!” You sob. “Right there, right there, right there—”

You’re so sensitive, so intoxicated by the way he handles you, the way he looks at you, the way even he smells, tastes, feels. 

“That’s it.” He eggs you on, the itch to palm himself, to rut into you, to lose it just out of reach. 

You claw at his arm, at the sheets, at anything you can. You’re going to explode, his slippery tongue and fervent fingers bringing you again, closer to ecstasy. 

“Cum for me,” he demands, and as if you’d been born to listen, you do on his gruff command, crying out curses as a mind-stopping orgasm bursts through you. You see stars, the entire night sky on your bedroom ceiling. 

“Good girl.” He swipes his tongue along your clit before he removes his fingers from you, slow, gentle, and he sucks his fingers clean of your slick, his girth throbbing harder, harder at your taste. Honey glaze, a spark of lightning, crashing branches in the wind. 

He steps out of his joggers and tugs off his shirt, his shoes having been left at the door long ago, his blood coursing through his veins, liquid metal, at the sight of your shivering, half naked body beneath him. With another fast motion, he’s hovering over you, his arm wrapped around your waist to bring you back further onto the bed, your head hitting pillows this time. His hands graze from your thighs and up your shirt, his palms brushing the hardened peaks of your nipples before he lifts your shirt off of you. And then he stares down at you, starved yet adoring eyes. Skinny dipping, a lakeside fire, burnt marshmallows.

You meet his gaze as your chest heaves, coming down slowly from your high, studying the angle of his collarbone, the curve of his chest, the dim light highlighting the flesh that you never dared to touch, to learn—until now. You place your hands on his arms, feeling the ripple of muscle as you feel his shoulders, his chest.

A moment, suspended in time between the both of you. Your heavy breathing fills the otherwise quiet room and the low, rhythmic hum of cicadas just outside your window. Your heart is a drum inside of your chest, beating, beating, bursting as he looks down at you, and your heart skips as you feel his cockhead tease your entrance, rubbing against your slick folds and causing a hitched gasp to fall when it grazes over your sensitive clit. 

“Are you ready for me?” Kiba inquires in a husky voice, gravely and controlled. 

Ba-dum.

“Yes,” you whisper in return, your hands settling on his biceps as you keep your eyes on his. 

“Okay,” he nods, swallowing the lump in his throat, and he presses himself into you, slow, achingly slow.

Ba-dum.

Another gasp wracks your chest, and your eyes widen again as you watch his face scrunch in concentration. And then he whines, a short and quiet sound that makes your ears ring. He wants to jerk into you, bottom out, and the self-restraint is slipping out of his grasp like grains of sand. 

Ba-dum.

“Relax for me,” he urges you through clenched teeth as your walls remain tight around him. 

“S-Sorry. Oh, fuck, Kiba. I-it’s huge.” You stammer as you glance down at his girth disappearing into you, stretching you past anything your fingers, even his, could offer. You feel every inch of him as he spreads you, opening his present, celebrating his own holiday.

“I know, I’m sorry. You’re taking me so well.” He pants, working hard not to split you in two.

Ba-dum.

The pinch of his stretching you is different, much different than his fingers. He pulls himself back before pushing into you again, your slick aiding in his movements. It’s nothing like how you imagined, the awful and bloodied thing that’s rumored to be losing your virginity, but as he loads himself fully into you, pushing past the subtle barrier within, your body tenses up again, and a tinge of pain replaces the pleasure. 

“S-sorry, sorry.” He stumbles over his words. For years, he’s wondered what his girth would look like with you donning it, and now it’s here, right here. And it’s beautiful, heavenly. He doesn’t have the words to describe the way you look wrapped around him—the way you look in general, let alone eyebrows upturned, sweat collecting along your hairline, a heaving chest—but worth every fucking minute of waiting.

“Just—gimme a sec, okay?”

Ba-dum.

“Yeah, yes, sure.”

You take in deep breaths, wetness pooling at your entrance, and you ease the tension in your muscles, allowing yourself to acclimate. Relax, relax, but fuck you’re at capacity, at your wits end, wanting to unravel all over again—and he’s barely even moved.

“Okay… we’re good.”

“You sure?”

Ba-dum.

“Yes.” You answer, a strong syllable on your tongue. You’ve never been so sure in your life.

Ba-dum.

And he hears the certainty, feels it reverberate through his bones. He pulls himself back, then into you again, another restrained roll of his hips. You can tell he’s holding back with the way his face is pulled together, with the vein in his neck jutted out. 

“Shit.” Kiba mutters, one hand finding purchase on your hip while the other supports him on the bed. 

“Fuck, Kiba…” You sigh, your body slowly making room for him. 

“My name sounds nice when you moan it,” he purrs, leaning down, his skin desperate for contact with yours. 

“Don’t say things like that,” you whisper, a near-plea, your nails digging into his skin as your eyes fall half-hooded. And then he hits that spot, the spot, deep within you, and your back lifts off the bed, pressing your chest to his, another moaned swear falling out of you.

“Why?” He grins, a coy look that almost makes his depraved gaze seem sweet. “It’s true.”

“Idiot…” You respond, your voice hitched. 

“Hm?” He cocks his head to the side, a wild look filling his features. He jerks his hips, once, hard, bucking into you before returning to his agonizingly slow pace. “Couldn’t hear you.”

“Fuck!” You cry out, dragging your nails along his skin. It hurts, his abrasiveness, but it hurts in a way you don’t hate, that you almost want again. “Fucking asshole.”

“Asshole?” He chuckles, a guttural sound that isn’t impressed. He ruts into you again, wanting to hear that squeaky little voice, that pitched moan that he’s creating. “Baby girl, that’s not you really mean, is it?”

“Goddamn it, fuck, Kiba!” Your voice carries through the room, sending a prickling heat up his spine at the sound. You’re full, so full, and his resolve is slipping, slipping, gone altogether when you sob out his name again. 

“Look at you, taking all of me,” he praises, and he glances down at his work before a growled moan leaves his own lips. “Fuck, you’re doing so good.”

Pleasured tears burn your eyes, and you look up at him before reaching up, without thinking, and tangle your hands in his hair, pulling him fully against you. Another sound of pleasure vibrates his chest, muffled as he presses his lips to yours, another messy, impassioned, needy dance. 

Another whine escapes him as the restraint fades away into nothing. Your hips open for him, your legs wrapping around his waist as his movements become heavier, more momentum behind them. He envelops you with his arms, one hooked on your shoulder and the other holding your hip. You’re so close, so close; there is no longer anything in the fucking way.

“The way a man feels about you is crystal clear when you bed ‘im.” Ino’s words weigh on your mind, and you wonder if friends are supposed to cling to each other like this.

Of course they don’t, but you don’t allow the thought to cross your mind. Not here, not now. 

“Kiba, Kiba—” You pant against his lips between struggling breaths and fervent kisses. 

“You’re fucking heaven,” he huffs in return. He moves again, peeling away from you only to push your legs to your chest before leaning down again.

“Fuck, it’s so fucking deep.”

“That’s it,” he coos, his balls slapping against you as he fucks into you, his mercy and patience wearing thin. “Take it all. Good girl.”

The earth-splitting strike of lightning, the house-shaking rumble of thunder.

You’re spinning, free-falling as his length is buried inside of you, his cockhead brushing against your cervix. It’s deep, too deep, not deep enough. Your nails rake across his shoulder blades. His lips find the curve of your neck, and he sucks at the skin, biting down, keeping you in place. 

“Shit, shit—” The bubbling of heat collects in your abdomen, and you grip his hair once more, tight, a grounding grip.

He growls against your flesh as he brings the blood to the surface, but this time he doesn’t stop. He’s marking you, his, his, his. 

“Kiba!” You call out, your voice echoing, laced with a warning and pure nirvana.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, licking the skin, before landing on another spot on the other side and repeating himself. “I can’t fucking help it. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t mean it, and you can tell. The unfortunate part is: neither do you.

He mutters another half-apology as his thrusts become relentless, fucking into you as he did with the girls he gave meaningless kisses to. But you’re not them, you’re you, it’s not meaningless, it never will be.

You sob his name as you cling to him, the wet sounds accompanying the slap of skin. You’re floating away, gone, a fever dream within a fever dream, trembling legs hugging his waist.

“G-Gonna—” 

“Fuck, yes, cum for me. Cum all over this fucking cock.”

And you do, hard. A violent, shattering burst of heat and your essence that sends you into orbit, lightheaded, tears of bliss rolling down your cheeks. Your walls clench around him, milking him for everything he has.

He thrusts into you, enough force behind them to rock the bed, to scoot you further into the pillows as his own climax swells. He bottoms out once, twice, each jerk making you cry out before he pulls away from you, a hasty and frantic movement, steadying his member in his hand as ropes of white hot cum land across your stomach in spurts.

You pant for air, chest heaving, your head still reeling by the time he’s wiped you clean of his essence, your body twitching as it works to come down from its nirvana. You hear him in the kitchen before he emerges at the bedside, a glass of water handed to you as he sits next to you. 

“Here.” He says gently, his tone now opposite of what it was mere moments ago.

“Thanks.” You sigh, and you sit yourself up, slowly, before taking the glass. After a few sips, you hand it back to him, and he follows your lead, one, two gulps of ice-cold heaven in a glass. Water has never tasted so sweet before.

“You okay?” He asks, looking over your sprawled-out body, a whisper of a laugh in his voice.

“Yeah…” you nod, though you can already tell you’ll be sore, so fucking sore tomorrow. “Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”

“Never better.” He grins, and then his eyes widen as he catches his practice, his art of suppressing his feelings for you also slipping from his grasp. He clears his throat and looks down at the drink in his hand. You can tell the wheels in his mind are turning, grinding, but you don’t ask.

You don’t have to. That’s what friends are for.

#my writing #kiba inuzuka #kiba inuzuka x reader #x reader fic #kiba smut #kiba inuzuka smut #kiba fanfic #goddamn why cant i write a DRABBLE #inuzuka kiba #inuzuka kiba x reader

[disenchantedif]

A ko-fi commission I completed for the Theo/Cam poly route!

“You got sand on my toes,” Theo complains, staring down at his flip-flops.

Cameron freezes from where he’s trying to shove an umbrella into the ground, and you can’t help but laugh at his expression. This, of course, makes Theo laugh as well…and earns you a side-eye from Cam.

“You’re not helping.” Cam says, exasperated as he watches the two of you laugh, “You know he gets worse when people laugh at him.”

“I get worse?” Theo gasps dramatically with a hand pressed over his heart like a distraught church-goer, “I’ll have you know-”

“See?” Cameron cuts the cambion off as he looks at you, gesturing sharply with his hand, “Look what you did.”

Theo nearly cackles, going over to wrap an arm around Cam’s shoulder to place a messy kiss on his cheek, “You love it.”

“Unfortunately.” The sorcerer says witheringly, “Also, it’s a beach, Theo. There’s sand everywhere.”

“I know, it’s awful!” The cambion says mournfully, “I’ll be digging it out of places for a month.”

“Sand in various crevices aside,” You tilt your sunglasses down to glance around the beach, “Why the hell is it so quiet today? It’s a mid-July Saturday. The height of summer. Where are all the families and annoying tourists?”

“Uh, well, it might just be slow…for some reason.” Cameron shrugs, wholly unconvincing, “What do they say? Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“Bet the Trojans wish they had,” Theo says as he digs through your cooler to find a drink.

You both pause, looking down at him.

“Sometimes I forget he’s actually smart,” Cameron says, glancing at you, “Then he says stuff like that and I’m brutally reminded.”

Theo pouts, slinging the cold water on his fingers right at Cam. In retaliation, Cam kicks sand all over Theo. 

“Children,” You interrupt blandly, “Back to the matter at hand, please?”

“I mean, Sam is right.” Theo says, trying to dust his swim shorts off in vain, “Maybe something to do with that sign over there?”

Posted on the bulletin board right near the beach entrance is a sign that read ‘BEACH CLOSED FOR PRIVATE EVENT’ in big, bold letters. 

You jolt, going to grab your bags, “Shit! I didn’t even see that! Let’s go, like, now. Before whoever rented it out shows up, preferably.”

“We don’t have to leave,” Cam sighs, finally getting the umbrella to stick up straight, “We’re the, uh, private event.”

It’s quiet for all of two seconds before Theo starts laughing.

“You rented the beach out for our date?” The cambions says between bouts of amusement, “Seriously?”

“Technically, my aunt did.” Cameron grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck, “But, uh, yeah.”

Your eyebrows raise, “That’s…actually sweet.”

“Thank you!” Cam gestures to you while narrowing his eyes at Theo, “And that’s how someone reacts to a thoughtful gesture from their boyfriend, Theo.”

“From their boyfriend’s aunt, you mean.” The cambion snickers.

You cough to hide your laughter, but Cam notices. He huffs, shaking the towels out.

“Sam doesn’t like people around,” He snips, “I thought it would…be nice, I guess…”

Smiling slightly, you grab his arm and pull him down for a brief kiss.

“It was nice.” You say as you part, “And I do appreciate it, Cam. Thank you.”

He flushes, his cheeks turning a dark red, “Uh, no problem.”

“Yeah, Cam.” Theo comes closer with a grin, “Now we don’t have to worry if anyone sees us naked.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. You lean down, grabbing a fistful of sand and swiftly dumping it down Theo’s swim shorts in response.

“Oh, come on!” The cambion gripes, shimmying as he tries to brush himself off.

He has little to no luck.

Cameron is the one cackling now, “What was that about digging sand out?”

Theo flips him the bird, losing his shorts quickly and practically sliding into the water in an effort to defeat the itchiness.

“You know, Sam, if you wanted my shorts off, you only had to ask!” Theo calls out from the water.

“I don’t think being nude was necessary for success in this case.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, “But whatever. Not like anyone will see.”

You both join him in the water, Cam carrying his shorts along and insisting he put them back on after a rinse in the seawater. Theo complies only after demanding a kiss from you both in compensation for his so-called ‘sand-related emotional trauma.’

He gets two kisses, along with two eye rolls.

“You know, the wings actually make floating in the water easier,” Theo says, lounging on his back as he uses said wings like a glorified raft.

“No shit.” Cameron blinks, brows furrowing, “They make all kinds of floating easier. They’re wings.”

“I was simply pointing out an observation.” Theo laughs before flipping around and submerging himself in the water once more, “Hey, Sam! Cameron! Wanna play mermaids?”

“You’ll lose,” You say with full confidence, “I’ve been going swimming with Penny in the Athletic Center every Wednesday.”

“That’s not even fair,” Theo says, “Playing mermaids isn’t even a competition and you’d kick our asses. You have, like, professional mermaid training.”

“Professional mermaid training…” Cameron repeats the phrase slowly, “That’s not something I thought I’d hear today.”

“But I’m right! Sirens are scary, real-life mermaids, and Sam got training from one.” Theo points out, “She would wreck us playing mermaids.”

“Training is a strong word,” You admit, “But I would wreck you, yes.”

“What about…Marco Polo?” Cam suggests.

Theo gives him an incredulous look, “Are you forgetting the time we played hide and seek in the Rec Center while Sam and Vik were in Intro to Alchemy? You glamoured yourself and followed me around while I looked for you!”

“That was pretty funny.” Cameron chuckles.

“It was humiliating.” Theo mourns.

Your brows furrowed, “Why have I not heard this story?”

“Because it was humiliating!” Theo re-affirms.

Cam only shrugs, “I was sworn to secrecy.”

“So, no to Marco Polo. I’m never playing any game involving seeking with you ever again.” Theo pokes Cam’s chest with a finger.

“I have an idea,” You announce.

They both turn to you, their full attention focused on words that never come. Instead, you use your arm to make a giant wave that hits them both in the face with water.

Theo throws his hands up, “Hell yeah! Splash fight!”

Things only devolve from there, and you’re suddenly very glad Cam’s aunt rented out the beach. You don’t know how tabloids would spin the story of The Chosen One, The Unchosen One, and a cambion having a splash fight in the ocean, but you can imagine it wouldn’t be an attractive story for any of you.

#disenchantedif #theo parker #cameron fletcher #commission

[romanarose]

IYWBW: Bonus chapter: Candy

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Summary: Candy's thoughts

Warnings: Drug use, slight smut, feelings (eek!), sex work, im just gonna say dub con because she's not exactly thrilled with this part of sex work.

Immersibility: Reader is Latina, had curly hair, fem

AUTHORS NOTE: Because I am a shitty writer, the smut from last chapter came off to a lot of people as a threesome. I edited it so the Santi's bits are in italics and i think its more clear. The scene was meant to portray two DIFFERENT scenes.

**************

As Candy did a long line, the party in it's height, she was thankful this was a perk of the job. She'd already fucked 3 men tonight and then of of the other girls at the party while a group watched and christ, she was gtting tired. The drug began to pulse through her veins, however, giving Candy renewed vigor to finish the last stretch of the night. She had been able to take a breather, thank god, and was having a few drinks and a few lines, occaionaly chatting with the men and other women, most of whom she knew.

The girls liked Candy because Candy stood up for herself and for them, offering a layer of protection in a harsh world. Things could be dangerous in this line of work, women were killed all the time, but it'd not like Candy had a lot of options. She needed to get out. She needed to get a visa and go to America. She needed to get Javi something him and Santi could use.

What she'd do there, she wasn't sure, but it had to be better than this.

If her work only consisted of men she chose coming to her apartment when she chose, it would be a good job. Candy didn't mind her work most of the time and there were men like Javi and Santi who made it fun. That was good.

However, that wasn't paying the bills, so Candy had to attend these parties.

Another line of coke. She was aching and needed at least one more fuck from a rich man if she was going to be able to afford an air conditioning unit this summer. With air conditioning, she was more likly to get clients during the hot months; no one wanted to fuck in a muggy apartment in mid-july.

Javi would come either way, she knew.

Despite the fight, they had been able to repair things and her and Javier were back to normal, having excellant sex she got paid for. Santi too, although the sex was different, it was still just as mind blowing. Santiago reminded her of a little puppy, desperate and eager and wanting so badly to please... and please he did.

She tried so hard with those two not to fall, but it was hard. Santiago was so sweet, so adoring, so fucking good. Javier was strong, gentle, passionate. Both of them made her feel safe and loved. Sometimes, when she was lonely and tired and a little drunk, Candy would fanaticize about what a life might be with either of them, if they wanted kids, what they would be like as her husband.

She couldn't be that far off, could she? They both cared about her, that much was obvious. Especially with Santi, he was so open, so loving, so adoring as he looked up at her with those big brown eyes with his mouth devouring between her legs... did he want her outside of this?

And Javi, the night he made up with her and brought her the Audry Heffburn poster... he hadn't paid her, he hadn't fucked her, he simply fingered her until she came three times on his soaked hand and tucked her safely into bed... would he want a life with her, where they could fuck every night and she could make him the food he was always munching on when stressed?

Hands wrapped around her waist.

"Hola, Candy, I havn't seen you hardly all night." Martin Lorea, the drug lord that her two favorite clients were after, and a frequent client of hers. His hands lifted up her skirt and slipped two fingers under her panties, feeling her soaked folds.

"Mmmm" Candy liked the way he touched her, it was no Javi, but it did feel like. "I've been busy."

"I can feel that." Martin references the cum dripping out of her. "Better do one more, bebita." He leans around her, cutting up the last of the coke into two lines and doing one himself. "I've got lots of plans for you tonight. Don't worry, I'll make it worth it."

He would. He always paid well, liking to flaunt his wealth. Candy did one last line, feeling everything become less and less clear around her, and she barely felt it as he bent her over the table a little too roughly and her face pressed into the wood.

Her skirt was lifted in front of all the party goer, and Candy did her best to put on a preformence.

She had to get out of here, and the only way was to find out information from Lorea to give to Javi.

**************

Yeeeeesh. That was a little dark than I intended. Don't worry, candy is okay! I'm trying to find a blance between not like, demonizing sex work, because this is a sex work safe blog, but also being honest about the realities of being a prostitute in Colombia in the 70's. its not always pretty, in fact its often ugly.

ANYWAY! My belovedest Fen and I are working on the next chapter and it's gonna be a goodie!

I'm doing what I do best, HIGH DRAMA! And Fen is gonna deliver some of the BEST smut with baby santi and his mommy issues.

This is a v smut focused series but im lowkey a little smut burned out and i got a lot of project im trying to wrap up so fen is being amazing and helping me. Plus, this particularly smut is riiiiiiiiggghhhttt up their ally. If you like subby men, check out fens great work at @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction esp fics like Trine, with subby! blue jones and Good Boy with steven grant

thank you for you're continued support! Only a few chapters left <3

I have a triple frontier fic my dark account, Room's on fire, with a totally different characterization of santi <3

Notes are going down with is fine but its kinda tiring doing all these tags and then people dont respond at all so if you can give me at least a like to show your still her or a comment, ill know to keep tagging you &lt;3

I have a update blog now too, @romana-updates

@runa-falls @lunar-ghoulie @campingwiththecharmings @whatthefishh @persephone-girl @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beelzebeth87 @pimosworld @millerscoffee @heareball @thatwonderouswoman @poolb @meveispunk @lovable-liar @millllenniawrites @read-and-wip @missdictatorme @the-fox-den @milkymoon2483 @k-ra @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rosellacwrites @legendary-pink-dot @dreamingofbucky @englandsgray@starsthatwatch @fairlyang @alwaysmicado @theywhowriteandknowthings @casa-boiardi @lostfleurs @ninebluehearts @puglover12 @sub-aro @laiisleitte @itspdameronthings @heareball @comfortlessjoy @csarab615 @bit-dodgy-innit @stevngrant @kirsteng42 @mrsjavierp@nanfafnan @lovable-liar @axshadows @cookielovesbook-akie

#iywbw #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #narcos #narcos fanfiction #javier peña #santiago garcia #if you wanna be wild

[consanguinitatum]

For One Night Only: David at the RSC Fringe Festival (oh, and one other thing he probably didn't do...)

For today's post in "obscure things David Tennant did way back when," we'll need to travel back in time to the late 1990s. It was a busy time for David. By May 1997, he'd just wrapped up his first Royal Shakespeare Company repertory season (in which he simultaneously played Touchstone in As You Like It, Jack Lane in The Herbal Bed, and Alexander Hamilton in The General From America). This set of three plays had begun their runs in Stratford in early- to mid 1996; they then transferred over to London's Barbican Theatre, where they had ended their runs by mid-1997.

Programmes for The Herbal Bed, As You Like It, and The General From America

Next on David's theatre agenda was the role of Mickey in Hurlyburly (a play I've talked about before) which ran at the Queen's Theatre in London from August to November 1997. He then performed a one-off staged reading of Derek Jarman's Blue at the Chelsea Arts Theare on 16 November 1997 (which, by the way, is another little-known DT performance I want to explore!)

That was it for 1997, theatre-wise.

Then, beginning in March of 1998 - as I've explored previously - he began his run as Moon and Brindsley Miller in The Real Inspector Hound/Black Comedy. This double bill ran first at the Yvonne Arnaud Theatre in Surrey and then in London, first at the Richmond Theatre and then at the Comedy Theatre. That play finally wrapped in August 1998.

But a month before wrapping The Real Inspector Hound/Black Comedy, David had popped over to Stratford to do something interesting, something that's the focus of this thread. It was called For One Night Only, and - as it says on the tin - it was, indeed, for one night only!

First, though? A little history!

Around 1990, the RSC began to hold an annual summer festival called the Royal Shakespeare Company Fringe Festival. Intended as a showcase for RSC talent, it included a mix of events: short plays, devised pieces, stand-up comedy, concerts, etc., as well as new works making their Stratford debut. The festival lasted two weeks and saw actors, directors, stage managers, musicians and staff all taking part in more than 25 events. All the events were either on Sundays, or timed around RSC productions, so audiences could go see fringe shows after seeing the actors perform in their usual RSC roles.

Most of the events for 1998's festival took place in a specially adapted 100-seat rehearsal room at the RSC's 'alternative' theatre, The Other Place. But not all of them. Their opening night event - on Sunday, 19 July - was to take place at the Swan Theatre.

That opening night event? For One Night Only!

Starring Desmond Barrit, Emma Handy, and Amanda Harris as well as David, the launch event cost £4-£12 and began at 7:30 pm. It was called a "curtain raiser" as well as "aptly-named."

And just what was it about? Well, um....I know it was organized and compiled by its star, Desmond Barrit...and that it was supposed to take its audience on a journey through the theatre. These articles say so.

But that's about all I know. I wish I had more details.

I am, however, supremely lucky to own a piece of ephemera about this one night only event.

Here's the front and back of my For One Night Only flyer, and as I'm sure you'll notice, it promises "an evening of theatrical prose and poetry...and a little gossip!"

Great. Could you tell us a bit more, thanks?

While researching For One Night Only, I came across something else of interest, which I thought for a moment David might have been involved in - an event staged nine days before For One Night Only. But after researching this event in more detail, I don't think he was involved, after all. Such a shame, really. He would've been perfect!

On Friday, 10 July 1998, at 1 pm in the afternoon, some Royal Shakespeare Company members got together to do a fund raiser and preview of the upcoming Fringe in the forecourt of the Other Place. Called a Sonnetathon, this three-hour event featured various RSC members reading all 154 of Shakespeare's sonnets!

Now a Sonnetathon would've been right up David's alley, am I right? He'd have loved it! But I'm about 99% certain he wasn't there - and here's why. That Friday night at 7:30 pm, David was onstage in The Real Inspector Hound/Black Comedy at the Comedy Theatre in London, that's why!

But here's why I say 99%. It's not impossible to imagine he got up early that Friday (after doing a show the night before) and took the train in to Stratford to do the Sonnetathon - wrapped it up by 4pm, then hopped on another train back to London in time to make the 7:30 curtain up for The Real Inspector Hound/Black Comedy.

But you have to admit, it seems unlikely.

But The Real Inspector Hound/Black Comedy wasn't showing on Sunday, 19 July 1998, so David was able to get to Stratford and go onstage as part of 'For One Night Only' to open the Fringe...and then get back to London in time to go onstage once more the following night.

So now you know what I know about For One Night Only.

Of course I'll keep looking for more!

#DavidTennant #ObscureDavidTennantPerformances #ForOneNightOnly #DavidTennantEarlyTheatre

[euijin]

every month of 2023!

got tagged by @strayklds to do the classic yearly wrap up of my most popular and/or favorite things i made this year and it's always fun so i will do both 💓 plus some commentary because i can't shut up. i'm going to do it on this acc instead of yangjeongin so i can tag my non-skz cc friends properly, but i'll include stuff from across all blogs 🥳

i'm not sure who got tagged to do this already and who didn't so i will just tag some pals/favorite ccs and anyone that sees this should feel free to do it and say i tagged them if u would like!

@foxinys @seo-changbinnies @miyawaki @wahgifs @twoce @dinoboos @agibbangs @xiaojuun @exocean @hyunsung @huiracha @seungs

putting everything under the cut let's go

JANUARY popular: slutty hyunchan. i get it. also didn't realize this got That many notes asdlfkasjdlgk favorite: 2022 mbc gayo hyunjin. i just thought my coloring was neat for this. first set of the year also!

FEBRUARY popular: wolfgang ending fairies. these are ugly idk what y'all were on about but okay it do just be like that sometimes favorite: yellow wood era hyunjin bday countdown set. this was in the top 3 of my fav sets from this countdown in general

MARCH popular: hyunjin's 2023 bday set. thank god. looking back at this is making me emotional actually just kidding it was this one. boooooo fine he's cute i get it. favorite: i had a ton of countdown sets this month and i liked a lot of them but in retrospect i think my fav is the christmas evel era one. shoutout to oddinary and in life too.

APRIL popular: this random hyunin set for some reason. ok favorite: dfesta the movie 12 set i guess. these were good hyunjins and april was a flop month for me lowkey

MAY popular: hyunjin just standing there at the one versace event. i still hate y'all for this favorite: i think the hyunjin maniac tour mini vlog actually. kinda surprising myself with this one but i just think it's very cute. makes me happie. maybe this one tho. idk. i like the coloring on these too. whatever! this month was kinda mid no standouts to me

JUNE popular: hyunjin doing That move in s-class. so true favorite: the introducing skz gifset of the era. not my best of these but still my fav this month

JULY popular: TAEMIN AND HYUNJIN DESERVEEEE favorite: maybe taemin and hyunjin as well bc it changed my life but hyunjin's cardboard cutout of chan is also a fav because it makes me laugh every time

AUGUST popular: hyunjin at kcon la. i get this too favorite: hyunin squish compilation. very important 2 me. but a rare main blog contribution, i love this eunbi set i made.

SEPTEMBER popular: we had multiple sets do numbers this month actually but precious nacific hyunjin wins somehow. i made this set so randomly but it be like that sometimes (2) favorite: 230908 hyunjin not even because i like the set that much but just because it's a hyunjin of all time and he deserves recognition

OCTOBER popular: angel rockstar trailer hyunjin. yeah favorite: i don't know guys. everything i made this month was so mid. nothing notable at all. so i'll agree w the people on rockstar trailer hyunjin

NOVEMBER popular: dramatic hyunjin. i don't like my coloring for this but he was so funny so i can accept it favorite: i think 231118 music core hyunjin?? i like the nine set i made for this day a lot as well bc i'm just obsessed w this look but i think i like the stage gifs better

DECEMBER (so far) popular: dancing sweaty hyunjin. y'all are so weird but i'm the one who giffed it so, favorite: hmmm i think the hyunin set just because they r so important to me and i had fun giffing it

thank u to everyone that read all of this and that liked and supported my content this year 🫶 looking forward to what 2024 brings <3

#tag games #cc year in review #i took an extra long lunch break to finish this. now i have to work until 8 pm LKSDJFLJKSDGLJK #but it was fun!! #carly.txt

[starfall-spirit]

Read on Ao3

Ancient Myths Retold Masterlist

AN: I gave you breadcrumbs during Feysand's first night together, but here's the real Odyssey!Elucien set up. I can't promise you when the next chapter will be out, because I've run out of prewritten chapters, but I really felt like dropping something today. The fic will be finished before mid-July. That I can promise.

Anywhosville, enjoy!

Chapter V: Waiting for a Sign

Feyre

Ten days. It took ten days for the fire and frenzy of the mating bond to mellow enough that Feyre and Rhys were willing to consider rejoining society. While she was disappointed to leave the bubble of bliss they’d created for themselves, there was no escaping reality, and Rhys could only be absent from his duties for so long before people started calling it insubordination.

“You should know, we aren’t going back to Velaris yet,” he said. 

“Where are we going first?” He grimaced. “Rhys?”

“Your parents heard you were in the Night Court and have been persistent in their desire for an audience with my father to demand your return to Summer, going as far as to bring your engagement to the public eye. I’m sure you realize that until you publicly claim me as your mate, you will be treated as your father’s property. The bond’s authenticity will be obvious upon arrival, so don’t worry about that.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I knew I’d have to face the fallout soon. I just didn’t think I’d be dealing with the whiplash of going from this little bubble of happiness to listening to my parents' manipulations.”

“Or perhaps you’re going from our little bubble of happiness to a place where you finally get to stand up and tell them where they can shove their way of thinking.” He was tender in cupping her cheek and she leaned into his touch. "You are not their puppet, remember? You are free.” He gave her a wolfish grin, slipping her mating band onto her left hand. “And once you’ve established that…”

She slowly took the envelope he extended, unfolding the scrap of paper inside to assess the loopy handwriting there.

Rhysand,

I appreciate you reaching out, as it’s been a considerable time since we’ve seen one another. Congratulations on your mating, first and foremost. You can tell your new love I’d be more than happy to host any family of Elain’s and when you’ve found yourself in a more agreeable state—

She didn’t need to read the rest to know what the offering was. “You wrote to Day.”

Kissing her knuckles, he smiled. “I made you a promise, darling. And when I promise something, I follow through.”

Throwing herself in his arms, she kissed him. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, my love.” 

She fluttered her eyes, one hand dropping to his belt. “Before we go…”

He dipped his head, his slight grin falling against her ear. “What kind of male would I be to refuse my eager little mate?”

~~~~~

Rhysand

“You must realize, High Lord, our daughter has no place here. She belongs to the Prince of Spring.”

“I belong to no one.”

His mate looked positively delicious that evening, her soft curves wrapped in a backless gown  of midnight silk, a slit up the right side exposing one creamy leg. There wasn’t a single male in the room who didn’t do a double take at the sight of her—including his brother, posted in his usual position beside the High Lord’s throne, the loyal spymaster. She was nothing short of regal as she strode through the Court of Nightmares. And all his. “Mother. Father. You can go home now. Your reason for being here holds no power.”

“Darling, don’t be foolish. You don’t know what you're talking about.”

Head high, shoulders back, she assessed them with cold indifference, letting the condescension roll right off of her. Good girl. “What’s foolish is that you’ve stepped out of your territory to make demands you have no right to make.” 

“That’s enough, Feyre,” her father ordered. “Until you’re married you are my responsibility.”

“Try to marry me off to Tamlin,” Feyre dared them. “Try to force me back to Spring. Try to use me for your gain, Father, and see what happens. With a bond so fresh, my mate lacks the patience and grace I’ve shown you thus far.” Cold satisfaction filled him as he watched the pair of intruders go from irritation to shock.

“You little fool. Do you know what you’ve cost us?” 

Her mother’s hand rose up, pausing as a deadly snarl ripped through the air. His own, he realized. Once again his mate was under threat, this time with a raw bond forged and fed. The dark power under his skin yawned awake, making itself known. He’d pay for the display later, he knew, but his current priorities had nothing to do with his father’s fondness. “Strike my mate and I’ll mist you on the spot, Lady Archeron.” White as a sheet, Feyre’s parents exchanged a glance. “Step away from her.” They obeyed, eyes glued to the marble as he prowled closer. His own father merely sipped his wine, looking on with open amusement, despite the power display Rhys had just impulsively flaunted.

“You will go home. You will reach out to the Spring High Lord and tell him whatever deal you struck is void. You will tell him that your daughter is mated to the Heir of the Night Court and any attempt to go through with this pathetic arrangement will be taken as and dealt with as a threat to the court and crown.”

“Please, understand—”

“You were told to leave,” Feyre interrupted them, sweeping an arm towards the chamber’s nearest exit route. “Now leave.” The moment they winnowed, Feyre turned on his father. “If that’s all, High-Lord.”

Rhys held back a curse as his father’s eyes widened marginally, the only sign of surprise he was willing to show. “Quite a tongue on you, Feyre.”

“Pardon my abrasiveness. I am eager to see my sister.” She gave an almost sarcastic curtsy that left the court tittering. “If that is all, High Lord, I request my leave.”

Straightening on his throne, he assessed her, withholding the dismissal she desired. How many times had he pulled that same card on Rhys when he was a boy—tried to force him to inferiority? “It is very fortunate that you belong to my son. Remember that, Feyre, the next time you open your mouth in the presence of a superior.”

“Enough, Father.” Feyre didn’t argue as he shifted in front of her. “She meant no disrespect,” he placated, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.

“Playing with fire, darling.”

“Am I? Good.”

“I’m sure she didn’t. Enjoy your time in Day. Try not to do anything foolish.” Like turning a court monument to rubble, went unspoken. “You’ll be returning to the camps after this visit of yours is through.”

“Yes, Father.”

Ignoring the continuous whisperings of the court, Rhys winnowed them from Hewn City back to Velaris where they could change into something a little less formal and pack what they needed for the trip to Day. “You were brilliant. He’s an asshole and always will be. Don’t let it bother you.”

She nodded, but didn’t say anything regarding her parents or his father’s degrading remarks as they gathered their things. “The camps he mentioned. It’s the same place you were telling me about when you told me about the wing-clipping?”

“Windhaven, yes.”

“You don’t like going there.”

“They know, despite my father’s actions when my mother was meant to be clipped, he will not bother changing their ways. They also know I do not share his beliefs, but can do nothing significant before I become High Lord. The only respect they hold for me is as a Carynthian—an elite warrior. I fought in their units during the war when my father assigned me there. They obeyed my orders as their commander, but it was not a brotherhood. When my unit was captured…”

Horror flashed in her eyes and guilt squeezed tight in his chest. “It’s a time long since past.”

“Ten years is not so long to an immortal, Rhys.”

He sighed, bending to kiss her cheek. “You’re lovely for trying to help, but I don’t care to discuss it. Come. The sooner we leave, the more time you will have with your sister.” Her frown told him she knew he was manipulating the conversation, but she was also too considerate to push him to talk about something that made him uncomfortable. “All set?”

“Yes. Let’s go.”

~~~~~

Feyre

She surrendered to the now-familiar pull of Rhys’ magic, keeping her eyes shut until her stomach stopped spinning. The first sound to greet her was the screech of a bird, then a soft sob. “Feyre!”  As soon as she’d stepped out of Rhys’ arms she was wrapped up in her sister’s, tears soaking through the thin fabric of her dress. “You’re okay. You’re okay, aren’t you? I mean, the last thing I heard, you were set to be fed to that beast and then it was killed and you were missing. When Helion told me you were coming to visit I couldn’t believe it.”

“Here’s the proof,” she murmured softly. “I’m fine, Elain. What about you?”

Her sister was silent for a moment. Long enough that she felt justified in checking Elain for any signs of mistreatment. Beyond looking a bit tired, nothing seemed wrong with her sister. She was as stunning as ever. A healthy weight too. More than that, she seemed to fit in here. From the unrestrictive clothes to the circlet on her arm—the equivalent of a wedding band, Feyre had heard—to her very skin, flushed by the sun and complimenting the soft pink gown she wore, the panels fluttering in the breeze. She belonged here.

Still, for all her apparent comfort, Elain hesitated to speak freely. Something told Feyre that had more to do with the company she brought than anything. 

“Rhys…”

“I’m going to go tell Helion we’ve just arrived. I’ll find you again soon, Feyre.” Kissing her softly, Rhys pulled away, heading towards the entrance where Helion waited to give them the privacy her sister desired.

At last, Elain spoke again. “Raising a child alone is more difficult than I expected,” she confessed. “I miss Lucien terribly. And these suitors… He isn’t dead, Feyre. I would know if my mate was dead, wouldn’t I?”

Feyre paused, an unfamiliar pity building in her chest as she hugged her sister again. “I’d imagine so.”

If Lucien was her mate, that changed everything. But if infidelity wasn’t what kept him from home, what could be? He was smart. Cunning even. And he knew how to sail. He’d been away from Day for years and hadn’t once winnowed or sailed home to see his wife and son, a school-age boy now who would need his father’s guidance.

“If you know Lucien is alive, why does Helion not send a ship out to search the best routes to and from The Continent? Why does he allow the suitors into his home? Why are they permitted to pursue you?”

“They bear no ill will, yet. And there are some who pose offers for Day one might consider, if my mate were truly dead. As for the ships? Several have gone out over the past few years and none have returned. Either destroyed in a storm or losing their course, we can’t say.”

“No one takes to the sea without learning the constellations. They’re the truest map.”

“Perhaps not. Perhaps they have shifted.”

“The stars stay true to their seasons. Elain—”

“What else would keep my mate from me?! From raising his son?! Ten years without a father and I can still offer him nothing more than my own fragile hope, Feyre.” Her voice broke. “I told myself when I was a girl that I wouldn’t rely on a male. That I would endure an arrangement if I must. Look at what I’ve become. Desperate, unmoored, and the wolves can scent it on me. They think I will break under their promises and pressure. That I will stray.”

The last word was hardly a whisper. A taboo thought to a mated female that she now recognized on her own soul-deep level. She couldn’t imagine her sister’s agony though. If Rhys had been captured and killed during the war or lost to a storm, she would never know it beyond word of the grapevine. She would never have grieved him. But Elain was mated before the princes were called to the front lines.

This grief was one she may never know and could not do anything more than listen and attempt to sympathize.  For once, she initiated comfort rather than distancing herself from her sibling, slowly stroking her hair, rubbing her back, holding her tight as Elain had done some twenty odd years ago when Feyre was just a child frightened of a stormy sky and crashing sea.

“You have endured this long, Elain. Have faith a while longer. Carry what hope remains. If there is one thing that will bring him home it is your bond.”

~~~~~

Taglist: @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @reverie-tales // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @rosanna-writer // @eat0crow

#acotar #feysand #fanfiction #at the mercy of the stars #AtMotS #acotargiftexchange2023 #feyre archeron #rhysand #feysand fic #elucien #we'll get back to them in July my friends

[anthrofreshtodeath]

— one being shorter and it being a source of great enjoyment for the other

Their height difference is DELICIOUS

Ok, I went less romantic and more fun, but... I do love the Rizzoli siblings. Maura included.

Several people requested this one, so I am answering here, in just one spot. But know that I saw all your requests! Here we go!

___

Boiling. Once simmering, now raging. It’s how Maura would describe both the weather and her mood on this late July mid-morning. Crowds deplete her social battery, and Walt Disney World has no shortage of those - screaming children, oblivious adults, families overstimulated on sugar and at wits end. The smell of sunscreen, and human sweat, and confections on every corner turn her stomach when her anxiety reaches a crescendo.

She… she just… ugh. 

She can’t believe she wants to stamp her foot like a child.

She can’t believe she wants to pout.

She can’t believe she agreed to go on this vacation with three overgrown children.

“I don’t know, we’re still pretty far away from the front,” Tommy Rizzoli climbs up on the railing they all leaned against and it puts him head and shoulders above the tallest person in their vicinity. “But I don’t know Maura, they got height requirements,” he says seriously, “you may have to turn back when it’s time to get on.”

Frankie and Jane Rizzoli bubble up into a gutsy, giggly fit of laughter, until Frankie’s chuckles become a raspberry and then they’re dissolving into real, hearty bellows. People around them stare, some smiling just because their humor is so infectious. 

Maura is quickly becoming resistant to the strain, however, especially since the past half hour’s jokes have been entirely at the expense of her height. “I’ll have you know that five-seven is three inches over the US average for women!” she retorts lamely, crossing her arms.

Apparently that doesn’t matter to three people all just about six-feet tall. “Just remember, kid, stand on your tippy toes and they’ll let ya through,” Frankie teases, patting the top of her head while he uses his other hand to wipe tears from his eyes. 

Jane hops up from her reclining stance, walking as the crowd slowly moves closer to the entrance of Space Mountain, clearly excited to get on. “Ok, I’m guessin’ thirty more minutes,” she said, eyes scanning the front of the line.

“Oh! I see it!” Tommy shouts, “forty-four inches. Damn, Maura, you may just be shit outta luck,” he says with childish glee. He looks at Jane, who laughs, too, but then smacks the back of his head.

“So you can read,” she jokes, standing between him and Maura and he frowns. 

Frankie howls. 

And, ok, Maura cracks a little bit of a smirk. Just a small one, because Tommy does have dyslexia. He’s an avid reader, audiobooks being a big help with that, but still. 

“Real mature, Janie,” he barks, but when he looks at Maura, sends a wink her way, Maura returns his smile more fully. “Comin’ from someone who can’t remember to pack underwear to save her life. On any trip.”

“A’right, a’right,” Jane says loudly, wrapping her arm around her youngest brother’s shoulders. “Let’s call a truce until at least after this ride. I don’t need everyone hearing about my emergency underwear shopping trips.”

“Oh yeah, now she wants to play nice, when it’s all about her,” Frankie calls from over Maura’s head. 

Jane shoots him a dagger of a look, and Maura can hardly take it seriously because of the matching shirts Frankie forced them to wear, with their surnames and a very apt I’m Sorry You Have to Wait in Line behind Us on the back. 

The boil returns to a simmer. 

It could be the shade, or it could be Frankie’s strong hands on her shoulders. It could have been Tommy’s wink, it could be the way Jane holds her own free hand out behind her back, her signal for Maura to put a snack in the palm of it. Maura sighs, pulls the trail mix out of her bag and pours some just as Frankie leans close to her ear. 

“We love you, ya know,” he says, squeezing her muscles into loosening. “That’s why we roast ya.”

She lifts up her head, not jazzed about having to do so to catch his eyes after all their teasing, but his smile eases her. “I… I think I’m just not used to…”

“Well, see that name on the front of your shirt? Time to start gettin’ used to it,” he says with a little chuckle. “But you can always tell us when enough is enough. Trust me, we know we’re knuckleheads.”

“You’re assholes,” Maura corrects when she looks forward again, Jane having consumed her handful of trail mix and now bouncing on the balls of her feet with anticipation. They’d all been so animated when she said she’d never been here, elated as they planned every moment of the itinerary to ensure the perfect first Disney experience for her.

And now, Maura realizes, the ribbing is part of it. Because, as they told her countless times, Disney is only fun when you do it with family.

“Atta girl,” Frankie tells her after he gasps at her candor. He slaps his hands against her shoulders hard enough to jostle her, clearly pleased. “Ya learn quick.”

#otp prompts august 2023 #rizzoli and isles #would the Rizzolis be Disney people? probably not #but its fun to pretend

[ceo-of-sloppy-men]

Eddie with an equally freak S/O

This is my 500 follower special because holy shit you guys thank you! This reads more like a fanfiction I was too lazy to fully write (lol) so enjoy.

The cut is because it's long.

The two of you met at the first day of High School. Your parents had just moved out to Hawkins for some peace and quiet, and you were thrust into a new school. Safe to say by lunch you hadn't made any new friends and were probably going to sit alone.

Until some random kid with long curly hair, too many rings, and enough layers of clothes to warrant it being winter waltzed up to you. Waltzed. Not walked.

With all the swagger of a teenage casanova, he invited you to his table.

That was the day you became known as one of the freaks.

You liked being a freak. Everyone was nice, and there was no expectation of being perfect or well-behaved. You just needed to be yourself.

You were dragged into everything. Hellfire, lab partners, the band. All of it. Wherever Eddie went, he took you with him. You would've felt like you were tagging along too often had it not been for him constantly grabbing your wrist and taking you with him.

It did not help your budding crush in the slightest.

Your parents had other views on your newfound friend group, leading you to spend your evenings and weekends at Eddie's trailer or whoever's house was being used as the hangout. You managed to avoid going home too often as your parents were too busy to track you down.

Which led to you doing a lot of weed with Eddie and confessing a lot of personal shit. It was a two-way street, the two of you only drawing closer as your first summer in Hawkins ended.

By Fall you knew each other better than yourselves. By the next Summer, you were sure you were doomed as your crush had all but gone away. It festered and grew as the eccentric metal head showed you new songs, invited you over to watch whatever new movie he'd recorded, or dragged you off to the arcade to try a new machine.

You especially loved having the mall in town as the two of you could loiter while finding new bits and bobbles for your outfits.

You had to drag him swimming though. He didn't like going and you didn't blame him, but some days were simply too hot to sit in his trailer or van and smoke weed. He also looked too good in a bathing suit to pass up.

He confessed to you mid-July after the mall fire happened, saying he was going to wait until Hellfire started up again and do it better but when the mall burned down he was too scared that he was going to lose you too to one of the freak accidents.

You spent the rest of the summer wrapped up in his arms.

When school started again he made a point of asking you if you were okay with publicly being seen dating him. When you told him he was an idiot to think otherwise, he grinned like the Cheshire cat.

He absolutely loves touching you and will any chance he gets. Whether it's holding hands in the hall, locking your ankles at lunch, or pulling you close in the privacy of his trailer.

He manages to convince you to fully move your stuff to his trailer after a big blow-out fight with your parents.

You don't bother going home much after that, and his Uncle doesn't seem to mind your presence. He actually rather respects it, stating that he's happy Eddie has someone to keep him company.

There are many long walks through the woods. Eddie seems to thoroughly enjoy walking all the way to lover's lake just to watch the stars.

Sometimes he'll climb to the top of the trailer with you and watch the clouds or the stars.

He's like the personification of a cat in some respects. He'll seek you out when he needs company and attention, he'll loudly proclaim things (usually to himself), and he'll go for walks when he's really pent up.

When he wrote the first song for you it took him months to get it right.

The two of you were having an actually decent life... until the summer of season 4.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things headcanons

[azumasoroshi]

Izaya & Shizuo Drama CD??????

so guess what i learned about today! it's truly incredible how much lesser-known content there is about shizaya once you start digging

ive known about dear girls stories for ages but i didnt realize there were actual drama cds for izaya and shizuo too 😭i thought this was just people pretending that daisuke ono and hiroshi kamiya were talking as shizaya (<-CLOWN behavior)

but nope 4 seconds in we got a Shizu-chan name drop so lmAOOO time to listen i guess

there's two of these translated by the DGS subs channel (tracks 9-15) so idk if there's more before or after these or if those tracks have different characters, which i probably wont watch unless shizuo and celty have one or something lmao

according to google translate, "kenka" = "fight" which is funny

can we talk about that official art btw because how did izaya get close enough to shizuo to steal his glasses without getting caught?? dawg???? i guess he came up from behind him or something but fuckin imagine izaya just hanging down from above and doing the spiderman thing...except he steals shizu-chan's glasses instead of kissing him. i should draw that actually

this is hilarious actually i cant stop grinning bskjgHDSH why are they talking civilly about the date. what are they doing

it took them 51 seconds to actually reference hating each other which might be a record! good job gays

wait we're skipping ahead?? to august 30th??? we're just not gonna explain why/how they were in a bathhouse together???? okay?????

bro chased izaya up a mountain??? there are songs written about that kind of stufff bro 😭 like "id climb the tallest mountains and cross the widest rivers for you". something along those lines. shizuoooo you're so dedicateddddd <33333

why does he sound surprised bsdkgshk 1. YOU called him and 2. YOU led him up the mountain. little shit

i had to delete a whole segment because my brain is dead and i thought the dates were going backwards and i was like huh. interesting amount of nonlinear storytelling going on here

yes because august and september come before july soro good job

adventurer day, cleaning day, mid-year day? is this whole drama cd just them unintentionally celebrating obscure holidays together what the fuck

shizuo was just talking about ironing where did you come from??? izaya????? and shizuo didnt even react bdsjkgsh i literally cant wrap my brain around this like how are they just casually talking

WHAT DOES "THAT KIND OF WORK" MEAN HUH

izaya stripper au real (im sorry. my head is permanently in the gutter i think)

izaya i think you're losing it a bit because how the fuck do you watch someone IRONING HIS CLOTHES and still think it's entertaining?? does literally anything shizuo does entertain you what the hell

bro is down horrendous

oh so THIS is the bath one, i thought that was the first scenario (half-year day) because of the cicadas?? for some reason. i mistook cicada noises for cricket noises im a clown

NERDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

damn izaya read his mind. #justcouplethings

shizuo joining in on the wordplay too GOD they're so annoying

and cue giant crashing wave sound effect

the tweet above mentions that this basically confirms that shizuo entered the bath with izaya and i havent been able to stop thinking about it. like izaya would enter the bath to fuck with shizuo but here shizuo joins him. hmmmmmmmm

translator asking the real questions here pFFF

#shizaya #shizuo heiwajima #izaya orihara #durarara #insane that this whole cd is just them being as chill as humanly possible for them #like what #they're just hanging out???? #it took me forever to finish this post because of my 1 hour limit auhwgushhggh i have to write my posts faster

[animefeminist]

Chatty AF 188: 2023 Spring Wrap-Up

Vrai, Alex, and Peter (with a guest appearance by Toni) try to cover the wealth of excellent titles in the 2023 Spring season!

Note: During this episode Vrai mistakenly attributes Yurikuma Arashi (2015) as having been partly inspired by the 1995 sarin gas attacks; the series that pulled inspiration from that event was Penguindrum (2011). We regret the error.

Episode Information

Date Recorded: July 22nd 2023 Hosts: Vrai, Alex, Peter

Episode Breakdown

0:00:00 Intros/Content warning Yellow Flags 0:03:25 Tengoku Daimakyou (Heavenly Delusion) 0:11:32 My Love Story with Yamada-kun at Lvl999 0:14:33 Dead Mount Death Play 0:17:38 The Dangers in My Heart Neutral Zone 0:20:58 Why Raeliana Ended Up at the Duke’s Mansion 0:24:19 Otaku Elf 0:29:11 Hell’s Paradise It’s Complicated 0:36:32 Oshi no Ko 0:48:08 Insomniacs After School Feminist Potential 0:52:34 Yuri is My Job! 0:55:44 Skip and Loafer Sequels & Carryovers 1:00:53 The Ancient Magus’ Bride Season 2 1:04:34 Birdie Wing: Girls’ Golf Story 1:08:27 Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury 1:11:50 Tokyo Mew Mew New 1:15:15 VINLAND SAGA Season 2 1:20:45 Outro

Further Reading

2023 Spring Premiere Digest

2023 Spring Three-Episode Check-In

2023 Spring Mid-Season Check-In

Yuri is My Job! Retrospective

#tengoku daimakyou #heavenly delusion #my love story with yamada kun at lv999 #loving yamada at lv999 #yamada lv999 #dead mount death play #the dangers in my heart #why raeliana ended up at the duke's mansion #otaku elf #edomae elf #hell's paradise #jigokuraku #oshi no ko #akane kurokawa #insomniacs after school #yuri is my job #watayuri #watashi no yuri wa oshigoto desu #skip to loafer #skip and loafer #skiploaf #the ancient magus bride #mahou tsukai no yome #birdie wing #gwitch #mobile suit gundam witch from mercury #witch from mercury #tokyo mew mew #tmm new #tmmn

[jasper-book-stash]

January 2024 Reading Wrap Up

As y'all know, I started this blog anew to record my thoughts on some books I read. Unfortunately, I have a bad habit of reading a lot more books than the average human should, and they knock each other out of my noggin. This is why I maintain a color-coded spreadsheet with columns to keep track of things. I also took on a winter reading challenge, and I've read most of the 17 books I was looking to read. With that said, let's see where things landed this month!

Religious Text

None applicable.

1/10 - Why Did They Publish This?

None applicable (thank the gods).

2/10 - Trash

Creating Magickal Entities: A Complete Guide to Entity Creation | David Michael Cunningham, Taylor Ellwood, T Amanda R Wagener

This one was...rough. Painful, even. This made me retroactively rate the other occult books I read higher just to cope.

3/10 - Meh

Heartbreaker | Julie Garwood [reading challenge]

I was hoping this one would be fun, considering the author is from Missouri and the summary seemed promising, but the main male character (not the antagonist) came across as a creep the whole time. I hated him very much.

4 to 6/10 - Mid-Tier

Sigil Magic for Writers, Artists, & Other Creatives | T Thorn Coyle [reading challenge]

With all due respect to Mx. T Thorn Coyle…this book sucked. It originated as a zine and tbh it should have stayed that way. There was a lot of fluff to get the page count up that could honestly have been removed (and should have been). I didn’t feel like I came away from this one learning anything new about sigils or how to incorporate them or my writing into my craft.

The Whittiers | Danielle Steel [reading challenge]

Unlike my surprisingly good experiences reading The Wedding Planner, The Whittiers was a sludge to get through. It was a bit annoying to hear Danielle Steel talk so much about how the characters weren't rich when they were clearly living a rather rich lifestyle without much financial problems in the beginning, and I eventually gave up on the book. The characters just...weren't too compelling to trudge through the repetition for.

The Stranger Upstairs | Lisa M Matlin

YOU. This book took a bit too long to get to the point (the plot), but at least part 2 was absolutely riveting and the epilogue was intriguing. I honestly think None Of This Is True by Lisa Jewell did this better, even though The Stranger Upstairs is more about a house than a person. Just...read None Of This Is True instead. Trust me.

Liber Null and Psychonaut | Liber Kaos | Peter J Carroll

Part of what I'm doing is research into chaos magic, starting with its foundational texts. And boy howdy, is this a severely middling book to me. Pointlessly obtuse, refuses to get to the point, spends too long sucking Aleister Crowley's dick... But utterly fascinating from a retrospective point of view, seeing what chaos magic looks like now.

7 to 8/10 - Good With Caveats

Dracula | Bram Stoker [reading challenge]

I'm going to beat Bram Stoker with a broom. Good with the caveat that you have to read it with the context of it being a product of its time. Also, post-vampire Lucy Westenra can GET SOME.

Strawberry Shortcake Murder | Joanne Fluke [reading challenge]

I "read" this one in audiobook form, thanks to my library having a Playaway of it. This one…aged a little poorly in some aspects. I might skip into more modern entries to the series rather than trudge through the older stuff to get there.

The Leftover Woman | Jean Kwok [reading challenge]

This one was a fucking TRIP. This book was full of twists and turns and physically pained me at points. It absolutely fucked me up and I was crying by the end, so I was lucky that no one came into work while I was reading it. I can't say much about it for fear of spoiling it, other than that it delivered upon what it promised.

The Midnight Library | Matt Haig [reading challenge]

This did NOT help with the crying! This book also fucked me up! It’s absolutely wild from the get-go. Content warning for animal death early on, though, because that did not help my anxious ass.

Marrying the Ketchups | Jennifer Close [reading challenge]

With all of the things this book was juggling, it ended exactly how it needed to.

Spells for Change: A Guide for Modern Witches | Frankie Castanea/Chaotic Witch Aunt

I was expecting something entirely different from this book.

Condensed Chaos: An Introduction to Chaos Magic | Phil Hine

Exactly what it says on the tin.

Magickal Servitors: Create Your Own Spirits to Attract Pleasure, Power and Prosperity | Damon Brand

Far more effective and to-the-point than Creating Magickal Entities was, but still far from perfect.

9/10 - Very Very Good

The Puppets of Spelhorst | Kate DiCamillo [reading challenge]

This book is one I've been meaning to read since the library got it in. It's an adorable story with great illustrations and plenty of drama for the 8- to 12-year-old in your life. Or for you, if you want a touching low-stakes story with an open ending.

Dog Man: Twenty Thousand Fleas Under The Sea | Dav Pilkey [reading challenge]

From the guy who brought us Captain Underpants comes an adorable graphic novel about…honestly a lot happening, there was a lot. Luckily, even though it’s late in the series, there’s enough context provided that you can get a good grasp of the characters. Doesn’t have much to do with Jules Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, though, so I’m deducting a point for that. I read Jules Verne's work and there was nothing about a dog-headed cop in there, nor a cat man who used to be a criminal and is having the worst redemption arc of his life.

Honestly, it was still fun.

Practical Gods | Carl Dennis [reading challenge]

Read for both my reading challenge AND my book club's Pulitzer Prize prompt, this is such a lovely collection of poems and really gets into the crossing of religious belief with modern problems. How does it do this as a book of poetry? I’m not sure! But it did! Definitely worth the multiple prizes it has won. I ordered my own personal copy and I'm waiting for it to arrive.

Gods of Jade and Shadow | Silvia Moreno-Garcia [reading challenge]

I AM GOING TO EAT THIS BOOK BECAUSE I LOVE IT SO MUCH. We love a book in which the main character dies but that's not the end of their story!

Warrior Magic: Justice Spirituality and Culture from Around the World | Tomas Prower

I did a little write-up of this one.

Give-A-Damn-Jones | Bill Pronzini [reading challenge]

This one was great because the titular character respects women and protects minorities and keeps getting into situations. We love a guy who doesn't want to be here! This was the first Western I've read, and I think it was a good pick.

10/10 - Unironically Recommend To Everyone

Well, everyone who's into the genre these fall under, at least.

Sappho: A New Translation | Mary Barnard

I was so worried that this translation would...well, straightwash Sappho, but from what I see, Mary is dedicated to translating them as close to intentional meaning as possible, including Sappho's bisexuality. Hell yeah.

Welsh Witchcraft: A Guide to the Spirits, Lore, and Magic of Wales | Mhara Starling

This is an in-depth look into a Welsh witch's practice. It's delightful to read someone talk about their own craft, and you can really tell that Mhara loves the place she lives in.

Exodus 20:3: A Monster Romance | Freydis Moon

We love a gay angelfucker romance between a trans man and an angel, complete with smut. Honestly, a great time.

The Salt Grows Heavy | Cassandra Khaw

Do you want the mermaid from The Little Mermaid fairy tale to murder people? Do you want a nonbinary plague doctor? Do you want to hear about murderous child cannibals and freakish surgeons? Do you want your protagonist to McFucking Snap? Do you want a happy ending in the weirdest way possible in this setting? Read The Salt Grows Heavy! A mere 112 pages that will fuck you up while you're trying to poop in peace!

#jasper post #books #bookblr #authors #reading wrap up #2024 #january 2024

[starlitangels]

Headstone

Pups AU. It’s been a bit. This one also draws heavily from my “Not-Yet Alpha, Not-Yet Mate” short story featuring David’s parents. Enjoy! 1.6k words

CW: discussion of previous canon character death

—

David had been silent for the last few minutes of the drive. The moment we’d crossed into the cemetery, he’d stopped talking completely. He claimed it was because Dahlia’s cemetery was big and complicated—which was undoubtedly true—but I knew it was because this place made complicated feelings rise up.

We got to the narrow road closest to our destination and David did his best to park on the edge of it. This time of day it was mostly empty anyway, but these roads weren’t made for cars.

“Daddy, where are we?” Natalie asked, craning her neck to try to see out the window, but her carseat wasn’t quite tall enough.

“We’re at the cemetery,” David replied, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door.

“Why?”

Yup. She was in that phase.

To be fair, she’d been in the why phase since she was about fifteen months old. Or so it felt. She wanted to learn. David and I didn’t fault her for that, but sometimes the endless stream of questions was mildly exhausting. I always told Davey he was better at being patient with her than I was, and he always said it was because he had plenty of practice with Asher and Milo growing up.

He opened the backseat door behind his and started to help her out of her carseat.

“Because there’s something I wanna show you here,” he answered.

“Okay,” Gabriel said as Natalie opened her mouth again. Probably to ask why again.

I got out and helped Gabriel out of his booster seat. He wrapped his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist once he was free. He was plenty big enough to walk on his own, but the kid never turned down even an extra opportunity for cuddles.

Natty clung to her dad’s neck too. David always said the kids got their “touchstarved need for cuddles” from me. Our children were very much not touchstarved in any way, shape, or form considering how much cuddling they already got—from me and the rest of the pack in general—but that was the joke he liked to make.

Davey and I carried our kids carefully through the maze of headstones. Gabriel narrowed his eyes at a few of the ones we passed, and I could hear him sounding out last names under his breath, trying to read each one. Natalie—who had inherited my tendency to be loud—half-shouted for all of Dahlia to hear her asking why there were “weird marks” on one of the headstones. After David’s patient explanation that it was written in what appeared to be Arabic and different languages had different writing systems, she seemed to understand.

Ducking under the somewhat-unkempt branches of a spruce tree, Davey set Natalie down. I put Gabriel on his feet just behind her.

Hidden under the drooping branches of the tree was a single headstone. “Shaw” was written in large capital letters at the top in the middle. Directly underneath, “Married April 3, 1991,” was carved into the dark grey stone. In a box of lighter-colored granite on the left was “Gabriel Richard—December 18, 1966-September 3, 2017.” The box on the right said, “Annalise Jean ‘AJ’ Hendrickson—November 14, 1967-July 1, 1997.”

Below both names was the simple phrase, “We’ll see.”

“Is this… Grandma and Grandpa Shaw?” Gabriel asked, looking up at David while wrapping his hand around as many of my fingers as he could. David crouched and nodded.

“Yeah. This is where my parents were buried,” he said. “That’s Grandpa Gabe, and Grandma AJ.” He pointed to each name. “Grandma AJ got sick when I was younger than Natty and she passed away when I was about three. Grandpa Gabe got in a car accident when I was in my mid-twenties.”

“Gramma has the same middle name as me!” Natalie announced.

“Mmhmm,” David agreed. “We gave you her middle name to honor her memory.”

Natalie blinked owlishly at him, but for once didn’t ask any questions about what he meant. “Why does it say, ‘We’ll see’?” she asked instead, kneeling in front of the headstone and tracing the letters with her tiny five-year-old fingertip.

Her kindergarten teacher had been very impressed at how well she’d already been reading back when school started. I’d been quick to give David the credit, given he’d read to her almost every night since she was born, and often taught her how to read, if just a little bit, himself. Because she wanted to learn. And she’d inherited his stubbornness and wouldn’t let him leave until he’d taught her a little bit.

David sat cross-legged in the mostly-dead, patchy grass that couldn’t get enough sunlight around the spruce tree’s needles. “Because that was what my parents always said to each other. One of them would make a guess about their future together, and the other would always say, ‘We’ll see.’ Grandpa Gabe told me they were the last words Grandma AJ said to him before she passed. He said he hoped she’d be waiting for him on the other side and she said she was ‘planning on it, but we’ll see.’ So, when she passed, Grandpa Gabe put that on the headstone.”

David blinked tears out of his eyes—and didn’t protest when Natalie stood up so she was eye-level with him and wiped them off his face. He gathered her to his chest and held her there, squeezing tight, but not too tight. She made a strained little groan, but didn’t squirm or yelp for release like she would have if he was hugging too hard.

“Grandpa picked this plot under the tree because he said he and Grandma loved sitting under the tree in the backyard of their house and watching me, Uncle Ash, and Uncle Milo chase each other around when we were toddlers.”

Gabriel stepped carefully closer to the headstone and brushed a few loose spruce needles off the top of it. “You miss them.” It wasn’t a question.

Davey gave our son a sad smile. “I never really knew Grandma AJ. It was hard to miss her. But I miss Grandpa Gabe very much. He taught me everything I know about being a dad. And all I’ve ever been able to hope for was that he taught me enough that I can keep being a good dad to you and your sister.” He kissed the top of Natalie’s head, right on the part between her pigtails.

“You’re the best, Daddy,” Natty said confidently, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on as tight as she could. David sighed with a quiet relief and gave her another hug.

“Glad you think so, baby girl,” he whispered.

Gabriel let go of my hand and carefully approached the headstone, sitting down in front of it and looking it over. He carefully traced the carved letters with his own fingertip, head tilted slightly to the side. He twisted and looked back at me. “You never got to meet even Grampa, right?”

I shook my head. “No. He passed before I met your dad,” I replied.

Gabriel frowned and his eyebrows tilted in sadness. He had more empathy in his little finger than a lot of adults did in their whole bodies. “Sorry,” he said to David. And me.

David ruffled Gabriel’s hair. “It’s okay. If I hadn’t met my mate when I did, I don’t know that we would have ended up here—with you two.” He met my eyes. “They helped me heal from my grief and the walls I put up to protect my heart that were only hurting it more.”

Natalie leaned back from where she’d been hugging David to meet his eyes. “How did you carry the walls with you all the time?”

I couldn’t help it—I burst out laughing. David chuckled too. “Not real walls, Natty,” he said. “Figurative walls.”

“Figura… what?”

David thought for a moment. “Pretend walls. In my head. They made me grumpy all the time.”

Natalie stuck out her bottom lip. “Don’t be grumpy, Daddy. Being grumpy is no fun.”

David chuckled again and met my eyes over our daughter’s head. “Gee, I wonder who she sounds like,” he said.

I smiled. “I’m so proud,” I replied.

David tugged lightly on the end of one of her pigtails. “How about you and your brother sit here and be good, and I’ll go with my mate to grab our lunch out of the car?”

Natalie nodded. Gabriel did too when David met his eyes.

He stood and held a hand out to me. I took it and we headed back for the car to grab the cooler.

—

Natalie glanced over at the tree trunk, smiling as a familiar head of pink curls quickly ducked behind the trunk out of her view. “I know you’re there!” she whispered—loud. Gabriel was reading the headstone again, intently, and didn’t notice.

Caelum poked his head out from behind the trunk again and pressed a finger to his lips. He grinned and giggled. Natalie copied his gesture, nodded, and giggled herself.

“What are you doing here?” Her whisper was quieter this time.

Caelum snuck out from behind the tree. “Making sure you and your family are happy,” he whispered back.

He popped a kiss on the top of Natalie’s head, the way her dad had done, and disappeared as he took a step back.

#Pups AU #Redacted ASMR #fic #Redacted David #Redacted Angel #David Shaw #Angel #David #Natalie Shaw #Gabriel D. Shaw #Starlit Fic

[ladypascal]

Summer Nights, Mid July

and is that the most basic title i could think of? yuuuuuup but it works for now.

anyways, here is a quick sneak peak now that I've finally almost finished everything after my laptop betrayed me - a snippet from my neighbor! Joel x female reader fic :')

Warnings: none YET ;)

“Sorry, I can change, if yo-“, you motion to the house.

“No,” Joel interrupts, shaking his head softly, clears his throat, “no it’s fine, you don’t have to do that, ‘s fine,”

“Oh, okay,” you smile, setting your coffee down on the table between the two of you, “I was going to go for a swim before I start on everything though,” you stand, stretching your arms above your head.

Joel feels his mouth run dry.

“Wanna come?” You ask, looking at him over your shoulder as you continue towards the pool.

“Oh, uh, didn’t bring my swim-“

“Just wear your boxers,” you tell him as you slowly walk down the steps into the water, “not like it’s that much different, just me and you,” you shrug, wading out further, hoping it came across as confident as it sounded in your head.

You dip under water, coming to the surface and pushing your hair out of your face, wiping the water from your eyes. He watches as you do, wondering how the hell he got this lucky, but feeling like his body is anchored to the chair. You swim over to the ledge, folding your arms, resting your chin on your forearms, the water shallow enough for you to stand as you look at him, tilting your head to the side;

“Seems silly that we spent all this time getting it up and running and we don’t test it out, right?” You tease.

You watch as he sits silently, seemingly debating what he should do. He seems to be struggling with deciding if he should join you, and you start to panic a bit – maybe you read the signs wrong, maybe he wasn’t looking at you like that, plus he’s your neighbor, a very helpful one at that, and Sarah’s dad, should you reall-

And then he’s standing, placing his mug next to yours, kicking his shoes and socks off, stripping his shirt and shorts off, leaving him in just his boxers.

Oh.

Oh God.

He follows your earlier movements, slowly walking into the pool, not saying anything, only looking at you. His expression is unreadable, you can’t focus on anything but the way his thighs flex as he walks down the steps, or how big his arms are as he slowly swims over to you.

You smile as he joins you on the wall.

“This what ya wanted?” He teases and you hold back a groan, nodding instead.

“Only seems fair we enjoy it while we can, before it’s full of middle schoolers,” you try to joke, but you know your voice comes out shaky.

He laughs, “Guess this is the last time we’ll ever have it to ourselves,” he agrees.

You lock eyes then, and feel your breath catch, a sudden jolt of confidence surging through you.

“We should make the most of it then,” you say softly, turning so your back rests against the ledge, before you finally make the final step towards him. He realizes what you’re doing and lifts his arm so you have room to situate yourself between him and the wall, he doesn’t look away from your eyes the entire time. “Right?” you ask.

His other arm comes back to cage you in between himself and the wall, he dips his head lower.

“How d’you think we should do that?” He asks, voice low, his eyes flicking from your own to your mouth as he waits on your response.

Your hands come up to touch his chest, slowly gliding them across the wide expanse, to his shoulders. You watch as he tenses as you do so, then you wrap them around his neck, his body pushing up against yours, you can already feel how hard he is through his boxers. You pull him in closer, letting your lips lightly trail along his jaw, “I’m sure I could think of somethin,” you reply.

**

Hehe okay I hope you all luv it sm, lmk :)

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x you #joel x y/n #joel tlou #joel miller tlou #tlou hbo #tlou fic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller oneshot #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction

[heavenlyyshecomes]

ok wait mid year (+july) wrap-up:

books read—41 / pages—13.6k / top 3 genres—literary, fantasy, historical & lgbtq+ / fav books—madame bovary, everything the light touches, Greek lessons / least fav—yellowface has the lowest rating I've given this year but it wasn't Bad just meh so I think... out of the mirror darkness / most read author(s)—grrm + mxtx / top 3 moods—reflective, emotional, dark 🧘🏽‍♀️ longest book—a dance with dragons vol. 1 (690 pages) (technically should be svsss but since I read the new editions they're counted as 3 separate volumes) / shortest—the six deaths of the saint (30 pages)

#book log #there is hope I'll make the gr challenge this year although i still regret raising it by 10 more than my usual setting #also the top moods.. lmfao

[erisluna35ocblog]

Timeline for my OC's ML AU:

When it comes to timelines, I prefer to play it lose. No specific dates outside the occassional holidays and character birthdays. Just vague mentions of how it happened in a certain month or season at best. For my fic BTaL, it goes for a 13 episode structure per season, like an anime. Each episode is around 30K words, give or take 5K. I estimated the story to be about a year long. Here's the draft of how the timeline is planned with some explanations for episodes that break the order:

Origins:

Early September, tail end of summer. It's the first day of school. Kept as a separate fic in both ff.net and Ao3 as this is meant to be like a special. An outlier from the seasons.

S1 Episode Slumber:

A flashback episode that happens across October. Shizuke and Blair spent a month arguing. They were super stubborn. Mentioned All Soul's Day/Day of the Dead in one segment of the epilogue. Meant to establish that Shizublair had already been through a fair amount as partners during the 1st half of S1.

S1 proper:

January to May. Holidays that will be covered: Valentine's Day, Mother's Day and Japan's Golden Week, which Shizuke's birthday (May 4) falls right in the middle of. Plenty of mentions from Shizubug how he and Blaircat have been partners for four going on five and so on months cause the dork counts the days he's together with his partner. There's also Keagan's aunt getting married to their homeroom teacher which was explicitly said was gonna happen around Spring, and a Spring Beauty Pageant and maybe April Fools gets a referrence.

S2 1st half:

Covers June for Summer Vacation. They end their school year off screen between S1 finale and S2. There's a minor timeskip of about a week or two filled in within the first episode's montage on how the team adjusted to the changes post S1 finale brought - its a slow month of just these guys adjusting to S1 finale dropping a bomb on their lives. The twins' birthday (June 13) acts as a mid season finale.

N2CatS:

Set in late June, a week after the twins' birthday. It's the future side's defining event for N2CatS - set up as the reason behind their status quo shift in this fic that's changed a lot from where I currently left BTaL off. The story is meant to be a week long but each day is packed. I'm planning to slow or speed up pacing depending on the day. Its meant to be a mini series special, and can be read as a stand alone unlike the rest of the series. The only holiday mentioned here is the completely made up Helios City Founding Day.

S2 2nd half:

Set from July to August. I'm seriously considering splitting S2 into two separate stories in ff.net while Ao3 gets a disclaimer to read N2CatS first before reading this half of the season. This half is building up to enrollment as both heroes are confronted with whether they should stay in Xyril Tech or not. The start of senior high is a metaphor for a huge turning point - them deciding to stay or not can change everything. The subplot here will also shift focus to Fiona as her arc sets up S2's finale.

S3 Episode White Knight:

Another flashback episode. Most of it is set on Keagan's Birthday (August 21), over a week before S3's debut episode starts. This episode ends with an epilogue from Keagan's perspective that goes on until a couple of weeks after Heroes Anniversary, wrapping around S3's 1st episode like canon MLB's Multiplication wrapped around Destruction and a special. This explains the shift in Keagan for S3, which happened because of the end of Fiona's arc last season, hence the weird placement. It covers the last week before the 1st day of school properly starts and all the stuff Keagan arranged leading up to it, like how everyone on the heroes team are now on the same class and why Keagan is the class president instead of Shizuke. Much like the S1 finale, S2 finale brought another huge shift in the status quo.

S3 Proper:

Starts in early September. Going full circle from Origins, it's supposed to be the first day of school but that's delayed in favor of their current heroes' anniversary. Establishes that a year has passed since the heroes came to be. The season goes from September to early December. The Day of the Dead will be covered and it'll act as the start of the countdown to the finale. It was snowing in the finale, so it was definitely winter...

Side Notes:

This fic series doesn't have a Christmas Special. I just couldn't come up with anything fun for that besides this one skit I might just draw or write as a drabble someday.

Fiona, Natalia and Damien's birthdays are skipped. Nothing major happened so let's just say they celebrated in peace. Sorry for the other half of the cast.

I keep holidays to a bare minimum or use mostly made up holidays to justify events to avoid the same timeline trap canon mlb has.

Their own take on the Paris Special (Reverse AU Crossover) is considered. I'm not sure, I like it enough as its own thing and leaving it as scattered concepts. But if it were to ever happen in the series proper, I'd place it somewhere in early S3. Its mainly to better parallel the Ladybugs and Fiona. Prime!Fiona got to temporarily be Ladybug for S2 finale 2-parter, it feels more effective if this special happened after that as the Ladybug from the other world is Reverse!Fiona. This special feels more like Shizuke's N2CatS.

I've also considered a future sequel series but ugh at this point I'd just be happy if I could finish S1 and N2CatS at all.

#ml au #btal #n2cats #story notes

[jasperygrace]

June 2023 Mid Monthly Report

Hello hello, everyone! Back again with a short report as we get closer to Project : Desert's anniversary.

As always, if you like my work, consider checking out the Masterlist or my Artstation for more. I also now have a working WIP page for An Immortal Laid to Rest, so feel free to take a look!

So without further ado, let's begin.

Project Progress

Act 3

I have finished outlining Act 3 for my second draft, so I'm ready to begin writing again.

I will say though, Act 3 is going to be a lot shorter than the previous Acts

I'm not worries, however. Character arcs are wrapping up and the plot has stayed its welcome. We're closing in on the end, and I look forward to seeing Draft 2 completed.

Anniversary

June 28th marks the third anniversary of An Immortal Laid to Rest. It's going to be close, but I think i can finish the anniversary art done in time. If not, then we just celebrate a little later.

I'm currently working on the lineart, so I'd figure I'd give you a little sneak peak of what I have so far.

Goals

Here are my goals from May:

Have Act 3 outlined by June 15th [done]

Have 3rd Anniversary Illustration done by June 22nd [we're going to see]

Have concepts done for Lachesis and Atropos by May 31st [done]

June Goals:

Have 3rd Anniversary Illustration done before June 25th [at the latest]

Outline 3 chapters by July 15th

That's all I've got this month. Thank you for reading, and as always, i hope you'll support me in my future endeavors.

#writeblr #monthly update #mid month report #MMR2023 #project : desert #jasper.txt #jasper's archive