I think I cried harder today over my dad's jackets than I did at his deathbed. That was a miserable time of course, a memory that will likely be seared into my brain until I die, but I cried... I think a normal amount, all things considered. More than I ever usually do of course, but I typically don't cry At All. All this free crying is certainly surreal.
The jackets, though. I was put in charge of doing his laundry, because we don't want to pack up dirty clothes. I was expecting it to be unpleasant bc my dad's dirty clothes - gross. But really, it was much more unpleasant in that... those were his. It felt wrong to touch them. Felt wrong to treat his jackets as gross. Because they were just his jackets. They weren't even in the hamper. And then I was remembering him wearing them, and then I was crying. Again. And again. Weeping over these damn jackets.
Then I found a shirt on his bed that still smelled like him. It smelled like a Hug From Dad. And that set me off crying even harder.
In total, I think I cried like 6 times within 40 minutes. It took me that long to finish sorting the damn clothes bc I just. Was a wreck. Like, what are you supposed to do when you're living life like normal, vaguely hopeful bc you're taking steps to secure your own happiness, and then 4 days later you're sorting your dad's laundry because he fucking died. Suddenly. Without a goodbye.
And you have to worry about his lack of a will (even under an ideal situation, only 2 heirs and no conflicts between us, probate's a fucking Bitch), and arranging the funeral, and prepping his obituary, and picking out pictures, and writing a speech bc you want to talk at his funeral, of Course you want to talk at his funeral, but even just thinking about anecdotes you could share has you crying yet again.
I've cried more times in the past 3 days than likely the entirety of last YEAR. And that's WITH my cat, and uncle, and family friend dying. Those all hurt, my uncle most of all, & I was real fucked up over it. But this? This was my Dad. Likely the person I'd have named 2nd closest to me in my life, second only to my sister. He wasn't perfect, but he did so much for me throughout my entire life. All he wanted was to raise us to be happy and independent. And he accomplished it, we're getting by without him, but we still wanted several more decades with him. He was only 57. We should've gotten several more decades with him.
But here we are now. Playing investigators to his life, digging into all his shit, trying to find documents and take inventory of all his things, and learning Many things about him in the process. In his lockbox of sensitive documents, like his SSN and birth certificate and all that stuff, we found an old letter. About a decade old now, written in my hand. Right at the very top, we found that he'd kept the letter I wrote to him telling him frankly about my struggles and the things I wanted him to do better. He kept it. He tried to take it to heart. He looked at it again, sometime more recently than all the rest of the documents. That was on top.
His love for us is evident everywhere. The pictures he has hanging up all over the place, majority of them with us in them. The old fathers day cards placed on display in his bedroom bookshelf. The gifts we gave him, even stupid little knick knacks, placed around his apartment with pride. I wish we'd taken more videos of him. I don't want to forget the sound of his voice. I don't want to forget his smell either, the smell of a Hug From Dad, but I still tossed that shirt into the wash even though it felt like saying yet another goodbye.
It's the suddenness that hurts the most, I think. We were planning on having him help me finally get my license this year. My final words to him, the last thing he would've seen from me, were messages asking up on whether he'd called his car insurance company to make sure there wouldn't be problems. I should've called him more. I don't know if I'm going to learn from this.
I cut my 2 weeks off early to have time to grieve and to work on things for the funeral and settling the estate. The last thing I'd wanna do right now is selling fucking bubble tea in a job I already decided to leave. So here I am without a job, though with potentially two life insurance policy payouts to come. Inheriting half his 401k. Inheriting couches, knickknacks, keepsakes, paintings, art pieces, maybe even his guitar and other furniture if we can figure out what to do about space (I don't have room for this furniture, I don't know if I even have room for the couches, but God do I want to keep so much of this furniture). It has me even considering keeping one of his guns, just one. A tiny little revolver, it sits so comfortably in my hand. I don't even want to use it for anything. I just want to have it, keep it stored in a drawer with its ammo kept separate. I don't like guns, but this is a part of him. He loved collecting guns. He was about as responsible with them as someone can be, keeping them locked in a lockbox and impressing upon his children the importance of gun safety (I've known the basic gun safety rules ever since I was a little kid. Of course, of course, of course.) It reminds me of him. It's horrifically easy to have a gun in Indiana. I apparently don't even need a permit to carry anymore. (I have no intention to ever carry this in public.)
It's all a cycle. Business, grief, thoughts about my future. Round and round, like the most nauseating carousel in existence. I don't know how I'm still so functional. My skills with compartmentalization have been my lifesaver.
And im just thinking about the story my dad's best friend shared today. About a friend of theirs who lost her father. She reached out after hearing about my dad to share his words with her: "it's okay to grieve, but don't make his death your life".
He explicitly referenced himself in this, saying if he were to die suddenly that he wouldn't want us to define ourselves by it. Grief is expected, but he wants us to be able to move on. He's always wanted us to establish ourselves and make ourselves happy. He wouldn't want to be a weight holding us back from that.
So every time I start to feel guilty for thinking about having nicer furniture or using his life insurance payout to fund the rest of my college, I remind myself of that. Thinking about the material isn't a bad thing. I'm only human. And in the end, he'd Want me to be thinking about it. He never intended to die, certainly not without warning like this, so he would've only encouraged me being pragmatic about it all.
He only ever wanted us to be happy. So I need to do what I can to live up to that.
I love him. I miss him already.
10 notes
·
View notes
Hey, I have a question, Mu Qing ascended because he cleared away the resentful spirits in the Xianle capital... but I'm confused..
Isn't that what Xie Lian kinda did when he put them in Fangxin before releasing them and Wuming took them into himself ?
No, they did two separate things.
Xie Lian went to the old battlefields outside of the capital and collected the spirits of slain Xianle soldiers and those who died of the human-face disease:
That white clothed man didn’t speak a single word, and was strolling over the battlefield. Chilling wind whipped around, and with every step, he trampled the bones of those who died in war.
...
The shrieking, howling, roaring, crying, shook the ground and crashed the heavens, and the dead souls of the Xian Le soldiers answered and mingled with the deceased of those who died from the human face disease within the capital, and in that sky covering black mist, they took shape!
—Chapt. 191: No Grief No Joy; White Cloth Brings Calamity to this World
...while Mu Qing cleaned up the stubborn (probably stronger) spirits left in the old capital:
After all, everyone knew that Mu Qing ascended because he cleaned up all the remaining stubborn resentful spirits in the olden capital of Xian Le...
—Chapt. 198: Man in Abyss Receives a Bamboo Hat in the Rain (Part Three)
7 notes
·
View notes
For the six characters:
Collins, Fitzjames, Gore, Sophia, Little and Blanky
:)
Good lord, these really are getting harder! I want to marry and smooch and be nice to all of them!
Marry - Collins! He's kind-hearted and selfless! He's intelligent, loyal, and capable! He's - and I cannot stress this enough - very, very large and hairy! What more could a gal ask for? Again I sayeth - Hubba hubba! 👀
Kiss - Gore! Because he's a good lad and he deserves it. I think he'd be very gentlemanly about it and surprisingly chaste too - let me make that lovely man blush, please! :)
Be Room-Mates With - Blanky! Need I explain? I feel like there'd always be something new with him in the best possible way - just mad Dad/Uncle shit left, right, and centre. One minute he's stripping down an engine in the living room, the next he's building an incredible bit of furniture from scratch, the next still he's brewing beer in a cupboard or raising a school of rainbow trout in the bathtub. I feel like he'd just be good at everything - infinite madness, infinite fun. :D
Wrap a Blanket Around - Sophia! Get your slippers back on and come in out of that cold, snowy courtyard, babygirl, I've got you! <3
Push Off a Cliff - Fitzjames! I've really been trying to shake things up between each ask just for fun but my answer on this one must remain the same this time. Fitzjamie is built for base-jumping, ultra-marathons, cave-diving and other such adrenaline-based nonsense. Push him off a cliff with a rudimentary parachute, 100%.
Set on Fire - Little! I do feel bad about it since he is of course my all-time blorbo. Can we just pretend that this means I mildly singed him while lighting candles for a romantic bubble bath? Or that he burned his tongue on some delicious non-Dundy soup I prepared for him? Please?!
6 notes
·
View notes
GOOD JOB EVERYONE TODAY ON ENGLISH PAPER 1 AND GOOD JOB TO ALL MY HOME EC FRIENDS U GUYS GOT AN EXTRA HARD START WITH TWO EXAMS AND U TOOK IT IN STRIDE U SHOULD BE RLY PROUD OF YOURSELVES!!!
9 notes
·
View notes
sometimes i wonder if theres anything in particular that triggers uri to cast death in trust dungeons or if it is in fact semi-random. its so funny to me that he has death cast. urianger voice yes im a healer [cocks gun] im healing you from being alive.
my personal belief for my own amusement is he does it out of spite. something will land a crit on a party member or injure ryne in general and hes just "what the fuck??? what the fuck??? that shouldnt be allowed??? begone [vaporizes a monster]"
12 notes
·
View notes
I need you to know you're a delightful, funny person, a talented artist with a hard-won skillset, and a sexy elite gamer
i HAVE nearly finished elden ring so like...yueagh... maybe you're right
thank ye ♥♥♥
9 notes
·
View notes
me, lying on the floor remembering the 15 times I've ruined my life by lying on the floor too much: anyway! so I want to kiss ianthe 💕💘
14 notes
·
View notes
sigh. Might as well mention it here but I'm going to try to transfer schools lole... Probably won't get in but yeag. Trying
0 notes
In One Piece
New years used to be watching people lose their limbs and appendages on TV for getting in the way of body-chomping firecrackers, they say it’s a tradition to ward off evil spirits and bring good luck to a home, but as a child I didn’t see it that way, reaching the finish line in one piece made more sense to me, among many other things, I don’t like firecrackers, I just want to cross the line…
View On WordPress
0 notes
ALYSSA WONG SPIRIT WORLD IS SO GOOD OMG
1 note
·
View note
baby fever
in which reader and spencer discuss having a baby while at work
fluff
warnings/tags: fem/AFAB!reader, bau!reader, BOYFRIEND!SPENCER or husband if u so desire, discussions of pregnancy/having a baby (obviously), reader wants a baby, so does spencer
a/n: god i need him so badly. should i write follow up smut?? mwahaha evil emoji......
The coffee finished brewing minutes ago, but you’re still standing by the pot, watching Anderson’s daughter toddling around the bullpen on chubby legs. She’s not very adept at walking, but her spirit is indomitable—every time she tips a little too far forward, she catches herself and gets right back up. It’s not like she’s doing anything particularly impressive or even interesting, but you can’t take your eyes off her. Every movement makes your heart twinge, every giggle or curious quirk of her head is so adorable it physically hurts in your chest.
From your peripheral vision you see Spencer approaching, bearing his own empty mug, but not even he can draw your attention away from the adorable little pixie and her tutu and her pigtails.
“That is the cutest kid I have ever seen in my life,” you whisper to Spencer, hoping the quiet tone of your voice will help hide how much you feel like cooing and squealing.
He smiles to himself as he pours his coffee.
“That’s Rosie. Have you said hi yet?”
“I’m afraid if I talk to her I’ll try to keep her.”
“She is pretty adorable.”
You turn to him as he leans next to you on the counter, sipping his coffee casually.
“Adorable? Spencer. Puppies are adorable. You’re not understanding the magnitude of what I mean right now. I can’t explain to you how much adorable doesn’t cut it. I’m not kidding about the child abduction thing.”
HIs eyes slide around the room as he chuckles into his mug.
“Let’s maybe not joke about kidnapping a child in FBI headquarters.”
“I’m not joking,” you hiss. “I feel like I’m going insane. I just—”
At the last second you stop yourself, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.
“You just what?” Spencer asks, adjusting the hem of your shirt with his free hand. You glance down, watching the care he takes in the tiniest detail that you wouldn’t have given a second thought to.
“Is something wrong with my shirt?”
His eyes flick up to yours, hazel tinted with mild surprise.
“No. It just was sliding up your waist a little bit.” As he says it, his knuckles brush the bare skin of your torso. You suppress a shiver, studying his profile once he pulls his hand away and goes for another sip.
“Can we have one?”
Your inopportune timing results in coffee dribbling down Spencer’s chin as he quickly attempts to wipe it away, wide eyes torn between you and trying to assess the mess he’s made.
“You--you mean like a baby?”
“Yeah, like a baby,” you say, grabbing his shoulders and squaring them to you before dabbing the coffee from his face and jacket. He watches on as you clean him up, completely still except for his wandering eyes.
“I thought we were waiting on that.”
“Waiting for what? A better time? There’s never going to be a good time with this job. And it’s not like we’d have to quit. Look at JJ. She has two and still does it.”
“First of all,” Spencer begins, quickly recovering from your surprise proposition, “I don’t love the idea of either of us being in the field with you pregnant. And secondly, JJ also has Will and her mother to take care of the boys. We don’t have that. We’re both here all the time.”
“I don’t care,” you groan, trashing the paper towels once you’ve done the best you can with his clothing. “We’d figure it out somehow!”
“Mhm. It sounds like you’ve really devoted some careful consideration to this.”
You drop your head to your shoulder, giving him your best puppy dog eyes and pulling lightly on his shirtsleeve.
“Oh, come on. You haven’t thought about it at all? My perfect brain and your pretty face fusing to create a future Nobel-prize winner? Imagine how cute she would be, Spencer, we could put her hair in little braids and pigtails and we could dress her up and she could be in soccer and ballet and—”
“She?” he smiles, studying your face intently. You roll your eyes.
“Yes, she. Obviously we would have a girl. You—”
The idea of Spencer as the father of your daughter hits you like a tidal wave, stopping you dead in your tracks. The images materialize in your mind’s eye so clearly, it’s like they’re already memories, so real and tangible you have no doubt it must come to fruition someday. But if before, your ranting was mostly a silly fantasy—now it’s become a bit more intense.
He seems to sense your shift in mood. The big smile thaws slightly as he subtly grabs your hand on the counter.
“What? What’s wrong?”
There he goes again. Being kind. Being perfect.
Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t let them fall.
“Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I just... didn’t realize how badly I actually wanted that until I said it out loud.”
The concern in his eyes softens to pure affection as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand.
“I want it too. And whenever you decide you’re ready I’ll drop everything for you.”
His words are like compounding pressure to the deep heat within you—forming something so solid and perfect you don’t have to wonder if it’s real. A ten on the Mohs scale, a concept that gets closer to actualizing by the minute.
Your voice is quiet, revelatory as you admire the amber facets in his eyes.
“You’re ready?”
“I’ve been ready for quite some time,” he admits. And at once you feel the certainty of him paint your past and your future with one broad brushstroke. One day you will look back on your life and remember the time before Spencer, and that will be it. There is before Spencer, and with Spencer, but never an after Spencer. He wants to create something utterly permanent with you. “Come here.”
He sets his mug down, carefully pulling you forward so you’re toe to toe with your back to the rest of the BAU; so that only he can see you. Despite how good the two of you are at avoiding PDA, occasionally an exception is made. He tenderly wipes away the few tears that have sprung from your waterline and accepts your arms around his waist, mirroring your embrace and completely enveloping you.
“I love you,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, quiet enough that nobody in the office has a chance of hearing it. You sniffle.
“I love you too. Also you smell really good.”
He chuckles, hand roaming up and down your back for a moment.
“And that is why we are holding off on this at least for a while.”
“What do you mean?” you whisper indignantly as he gently peels you off him. His hands remain a steadying force on your waist as he smiles down at you beatifically.
“I mean let’s give it two weeks and see if you still want a baby when you’re not ovulating.”
2K notes
·
View notes
Operation: Babymaker-- Benchpress
When it comes to trying for a baby, Nanami Kento always works overtime. And the reader had better be ready.
💜 💛 Part 1 LINK HERE: A Trip to the Tailors
💜 💛 Part 3 LINK HERE: Ditch the Party...again
💜 💛 Part 4 LINK HERE: Wet Dreams
💜 💛 Part 5 LINK HERE: Honeytrap/Maid Café
Interrupt Kento's workout? Get ready to be manhandled 💛
Warnings: 18+ throughout, breeding kink, fertility/infertility discussion, manhandling, full nelson 💛
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
"How strong are you, Kento? Really?"
In just his checked pyjama trousers, Nanami Kento still cut an imposing figure. Even though his waist was thick with muscle (though not with heavily defined decorative abs-- just subtle planes under freckled skin), his chest and shoulders broadened out dramatically, his arms thick and veiny, his hands bold and angular.
Kento paused, his coffee halfway to his lips, holding his book open with one hand, before answering; "Strong enough, I should think. Why?"
Just modest, you thought. You looked him slowly up and down, your filthy imagination whirring. You smiled, tucking your legs up under you on the sofa, cupping your tea between two hands.
"No reason."
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
You couldn't help yourself from watching.
"One."
A home gym was a blessing for Kento, who neither worked out for enjoyment nor vanity, but purely for the demands of his job.
"Two."
He was away from home enough. And people at the gym stared so much, that Kento's workouts used to feel cloying, claustrophobic, skin prickling with the eyes of thirsty or envious fellow gym-goers.
"Three."
As he pulled himself up again, feeling everything in his body clench with exertion, he did, however, feel one pair of eyes on him.
"Four...why are you hiding in the shadows, hmm?"
You jumped, biting your bottom lip between your teeth. Your mind had been spirited away by thoughts too obscene to say out loud. Thoughts of being restrained. Thoughts of being grappled into submission, pinned, gasping. Thoughts made so easy to have about the man who you knew would never hurt you.
Stepping out from behind the doorframe, your coy demeanour made Kento huff, a short puff of air from his nose, and you watched blatantly as he finished his set. In snug shorts set halfway up his thighs, and a loose drop-sleeved tank top, you reasoned you couldn't be expected to take your eyes off him either.
Kento continued, walking over to the narrow Benchpress bench, beginning to place weights on the bars, one, after another, after another and you felt yourself filled with wicked intent.
"You can't lift that," you scoffed. Kento's jaw clenched, a small smile gracing his lips, as he continued shifting plates. Your words rolled off him, water off a duck's back. The ungoadable man.
"If you think you're going to interrupt me," Kento toned, smooth and reasonable, "you're wrong. I always get my workout done in 45 minutes, and..." he crooked his wrist, checking the time, "...I won't be late for anything."
Kento laid himself back on the narrow seat, no bench left at all on either side of his hips, the wings of his shoulders gaping out over the bench's confines. As the soft fabric of his shorts stretched over his thick thighs, settling over the prominent bulge of his groin, you gulped. Your mouth watered. And as Kento began to lift, with short ragged grunts rumbling from his chest, it all became too much to resist.
Kento's eyes were fixed upwards, hyper focused, feeling the impossibly deep ache of lifting something just about too heavy for him to lift. He barely noticed the flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye-- you, languidly undressing down to your underwear, eyes fixed on Kento's thighs.
Kento jolted as he felt you settle, warm and blushing, straddling his spread thigh. He almost fumbled his lift, and coughed in alarm to see you sat, almost naked, pressing your core against his tensed muscles.
"Won't be late for anything? Even me? Even when I want your baby so badly, Kento," you purred, your hands coming up to remove your bra, dropping it onto Kento's twitching abs as your breasts slipped free. Kento felt a bead of sweat drop down his temple, and he growled at you in warning, frustrated to feel his composure wobble.
"Shit...you little-- got to keep to time--" Kento's arms shook as he completed the lift, resting the bar for a moment as he panted, and you rocked your hips against his thigh, pleasure immediately churning through you. Kento's jaw twitched, fists clenching and unclenching, determined to maintain his schedule, but feeling his body betray him, his cock twitching to life in his gym shorts.
Straight after, Kento reassured himself, fighting the urge to throw you over his shoulder, throw you onto the bed, and pound his cum into you until you begged for mercy, nearly done, keep to time, keep to time.
Kento's watch beeped, and he bolted to action, gripping the bar again, beginning another set of lifts-- anything to distract himself from you slipping your underwear to the side as you continued to rock your pussy, now wet and puffy, against his bare thigh. You sighed and keened, two hands planted for support on his hips, the palm of your hand brushing temptingly against his aching cock.
Kento groaned, unsure if it was from the painful stretch of the lift or from your desperate attention to his thigh, heat spreading across his shoulders and chest. His cock was throbbing now, uncomfortably tight in his shorts, pressed down at an awkward angle.
You watched Kento shift and twitch as you humped his thigh, and shivered with a sweet little moan as his muscles fluttered under your clit. Kento felt his throat go dry when your hands drifted lazily to pinch and roll your own nipples. He could feel you getting closer to orgasm, and it drove him mad that he wasn't filling your belly with his seed at the same time.
Leaning forwards, still panting, furiously rutting against Kento's thigh, drips of your arousal now running down the sides, you ghosted your hands over the outline of his cock. Kento gasped mid-lift, almost dropping the bar onto himself.
"Fuck--" he gasped, snapping your name. He hopped one hand centrally on the bars, and clapped his other hand over yours pressed to his erection, "--wait a few minutes or I swear, you're going to kill me--" Kento's words caught in his chest, his other hand darting up to stabilise the tilting bar, as you lowered his shorts, his cock springing free against his clenching abs.
With a lip-biting, devious smile, you waited until Kento had begun another lift, still stubbornly refusing to stop his workout, before grasping his cock, and laying a long, flat-tongued lick to the underside from ball to tip.
Kento cursed like a sailor, his elbows buckling, the bars lilting sideways with a metallic smash into the dock. Spitting curses at you, coming out of him in a series of growling chastisements, Kento coughed again, a spurt of pre-cum salting your tongue as you giggled around his needy cockhead.
Kento fumbled, lost in your wet little mouth sucking him in. He struggled to lift the bars again to place them in their dock, as your thighs cramped and trembled, approaching your orgasm.
His hands splayed above him like a surprised kitten, his chin to his chest as he stared down at you in fury and alarm, Kento groaned. His head snapped back to press to the bench, then back to his chest to watch your nose graze his honey-blonde hair again.
As he moved a hand down to tangle in your hair, colours popping in his eyes in ecstasy, you released his cock with a wet suck, mouth falling open as you came on his thigh. With one hand still gripping Kento by the cock, he bit into the back of his knuckles to stop himself from emptying into your hand.
Kento still glared at you in barely-restrained fury, for having nearly ended his life through means of a deadly benchpress, and opened his mouth to bark at you. His orgasm still threatened at the edge of a precipice.
"Not only am I now late," he growled, "you almost killed me-- I don't know which one is worse, I--"
When you moved up his body, straddling his hips and rolling your slick heat along his cock, Kento gripped the bars above him again for sanity, spitting feathers at you again, infuriatingly flustered.
"Thought if you were that strong," you panted, cheeks flushed and euphoric, "you could do both at once." Kento huffed at you again like an angry bull and, as if to prove a point, rolled the bar in his palms, shifting his shoulders, brick-like and tense, ready to begin another lift.
For a second time, as Kento moved into another benchpress, you raised yourself above his weeping cock, and sunk down onto his length, your wet walls plump and stretchy and inviting him to bottom out in one slick movement.
Kento moaned, his hips lifting you clear of the bench for a second as he brought the bar down to his chest, twitching and heaving with exertion and twisted pleasure. You stayed flush, rocking backwards and forwards, revelling in the fullness of him inside you, not pulling him out of you for a second.
Kento thought he had died and seen heaven when, the moment he pushed upwards to lift the weights off his chest, you leaned forwards and whispered up to him; "Hey, Kento-- I'm ovulating."
Kento came with a hoarse, wounded cry, everything pushing out of his body at once as he completed the lift, and his cum spurted up into you with mind-blowing force. Groaning a series of short, agonised groans, his cock still jumping and gushing, he slopped the bar back into the dock. You continued to rock his seed into you, eyes closed and a satisfied little smile on your face. Kento saw red.
You felt yourself being instantly grappled. Kento lifted your thighs up towards you enough that he could spin to you face the other way, his cock still plugging his cum inside you. Lifting you against him, locking your arms behind your head and your knees beside them, Kento dropped you both to the gym mat, completely restraining you in a full-nelson.
You squeaked, trying to squirm. It was absolutely futile, and you felt Kento's hot breath in your ear.
"Not that strong, hmm?" He hummed, low and threatening, "Strong enough to open your pickle jars for years though, apparently." You started to laugh, and cut off abruptly as Kento squeezed you tighter, chuckling as you squeaked again. His chuckle stretched into a groan, low and lusty, at the feeling of your pussy throbbing around his length, which had barely softened, and was rapidly hardening again.
Grappling you with his back to the floor, Kento shunted his cock up into you, satisfied at you crying out and pressing back against him; "Not that strong?" Kento planted a harsh kiss to your temple, and bucked up into you again, satisfied to feel you melt, helpless in his hold. Kento felt a lick of pride run through him as he continued to hammer upwards into you, the air filled with the squelch of his cock in your cum-filled cunt.
"Punched men through concrete-- haaah, shit-- crushed Curses under brick walls," Kento listed, grunting and ruthless as he slammed into you now, feeling his tip bully into your cervix, "and look at you now-- more origami than woman-- and you will take every-- fucking-- bit-- of --it--" Kento snapped his hips back to punctuate each word, and you mewled pitifully at him, tears streaking into your hair.
Kento laughed, feeling himself peaking again, licking your tears away with mock-gentle shushes, captivated by the way your tits bounced every time he rutted up into you.
"So-ooo-- good-- Kentooo-ooo," you squeaked out around his thrusts, a thick hot pleasure roiling in your womb as you begged him, "h--harder--please." Kento snorted, his hands gripping your thighs harder, lifting you off him to slap you back down in time with him pressing up into you. You shuddered, marshmallow-soft, twitching in pleasure as your second orgasm washed through your belly, ready to gulp Kento into you.
Kento was awash with the closeness of you, the delicious hot wet suck of your walls around his cock, the thought of you round and full and growing, because of him. Keeping you restrained with one thick forearm holding your thighs and arms back, his other hand drifted to your belly, pressing lightly, feeling the jolt as his cock rammed against your cervix.
Feeling your pussy squeeze and flutter around him, Kento's grip never faltered as he gasped, husky and satisfied, feeling his cock spurt inside you again, rolling you from side to side as he thrust lazily up into you, careful to not allow any of his seed to slip free. He lay with you in his arms for a few moments hand massaging your belly, willing his cum to soak up inside you.
With one final slow groan, Kento pulled out of you, pressing your thighs together on exit, and releasing you from the trap of his arms. Though you had planned to fall asleep, there and then, on the gym mats, Kento had other ideas.
You felt yourself being scooped up, held upside down against Kento by the waist, and he walked you to his pull-up bar across the room. You were appalled to feel him drape your legs over it, and as he let go of you, you were forced to hang upside down by the backs of your knees, a child on the monkey-bars.
"Kento!" You squeaked, appalled, cupping your breasts in your hands as he dusted off his hands and moved to settle himself again for benchpressing, "You-- how dare you-- you can't just hang me up like wet laundry!"
Kento hummed smilingly to himself as he checked his watch, reaching up to grip the bars again;
"Well darling, I've got a workout to finish. And you've got a baby to make. Isn't that what all this nonsense was about?"
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
Up next: Ditch the Party Part 2 and more surprises
2K notes
·
View notes
people were having trouble reading the names + i redid the opportunist's head
DESIGN PROCESS UNDER THE CUT
broken: given the shortest, smallest frame and the smallest wings; he is meant to appear small and delicate. his eyes are sullen but not despairing. his wings are small because he knows he will not fly away. his feathers drape down like a cloak, reminiscent of a priest's robes. he is done in the brightest colours to emulate the tower. his hands are clasped around the blade and held at his chest and throat to display his broken spirit.
hunted: given a scrappy, almost tattered look to give the imagery of a bird who has been caught over, and over again; but never killed. his feathers are dull greens to emulate leaves. there is a second, long feather in his tufts to emulate an ear canal like a rabbit, and he is the only design given none-front facing eyes. he is prey, and he knows it. his hands are covering his heart, protectively.
contrarian: given a rounded, friendly look. his feathers are formed to mimic a jester's cowl and puffy pants. the tufts of white feathers at the tip of his tufts are meant to mimic pompoms. his legs are rounded like a bird's at the ankles to give the impression of jester's shoes. his eyes are large and expressive, and his colours are some of the brightest like his personality. his hands are at his cheeks, almost giddy and giggling.
stubborn: one of the tallest, with squared off and rugged shape language. he has some of the thickest, and longest arms for fighting. his feathers are shaped to mimic a gentleman pugilist. one of his ear tufts is shorter than the other, and the other is tattered. his fists are ready for a fight. he's bulky to mimic the Adversary.
cold: he is small, but not because he is delicate or vulnerable. he has won, and finished his job. he has no wings, nor many visible features; he is very resigned. he mimics the look of plague doctors and ravens the most closely to emulate his association with death. he most closely emulates the Drowned Grey.
paranoid: one of the tallest, and streamlined designs. with white, skeletal patterns to mimic the Nightmare's mask and gloves. his ear tufts are down, and frightened, and his wings are raised to shroud himself away from the world. they are the largest; he wants to flee, and could, easily.
skeptic: his feathers are puffed out, and shaped to be like armour, or an executioner's garb (to parallel the Prisoner); he trusts nothing in the world. his ear tufts are made to mimic the shape of question-marks. his patterns are black-and-white; just like his thoughts on his surroundings. he has several eyes because he has several perspectives.
cheated: his feathers are shaped to be that of a medieval thief. his wings are puffed up and thrown out indignance, along with his hands and expression. his sharp, white feathers are meant to mimic the razor.
smitten: small but with a large personality. his mask is meant to mimic a heart, along with his chest plumage. his colours are some of the warmest, and brightest. his eyes are large and expressive. his ear tufts are meant to mimic the Burning Grey. his wings are large, but not for flight; but for display.
hero: thats you! the baseline
2K notes
·
View notes
North Node in Various houses and your Soul Desires.
North Node in First House:
There is something unique about your personality and your body. You always love to dress differently like colour your hairs really bright or wear bright coloured clothes. You don’t fit in the crowd. It could also give some rare kind of disese, weight gain or you could suffer from frequent body disease.
North Node in Second House:
North is exalted here. You are lucky in terms of finances and family wealth. You love spicy foods. There is something unique about the way you speak, whatever, you speak becomes true but you also share love and hate relationship with your family. Your family has frequent fights and you often find yourself cursing and abusing them.
North Node in Third House:
North Node is exalted here. You are free spirited and extremely courageous and risk taker. You might be having frequent fights with your siblings or neighbour. You might develop anger issues, you playful and prankster as well.
North Node in Fourth House:
You have karmic relationship with your family and mother. There is something unique about the place you live. It could creepy, haunted or even unevenly big. You could develop mental issues like anxiety, depression and OCD.
Your mother could also suffer some kind of mental health issues. This combination could sometimes gets you huge mansion or create desire to live in big house.
North Node in Fifth house:
This combination could inflate your ego, sometimes makes you lustful angry and corrupt. Not good combination for your children as you could have lot of expectations from them. It could make you fame, name and position hungry.
North Node in sixth House:
North Node is exalted here. It gives you fighting spirit; you don’t leave your enemy and fight with them till you destroy them. This combination could give you lots of enemy and court cases as well as debt, but you don’t give up easily and love challenges.
North Node in seventh House:
Your relationships and partnerships are mostly karmic, you experience lot of heart breaks. You are extremely frank and upfront about your relationship and with your partner. This combination also gives you multiple partner and affairs.
You easily attract opposite sex and get attracted to them as well easily. You are romantic and have high sexual energy.
North Node in eight House:
You have good intuition and deep interest in occult and witchcrafts. There are chances either you put some kind or hex or spell on someone or suffer from evil eye.
You have high sex drive or desire, and good premonition ability.
There are chances you could easily attract spirits towards you and store lot of emotions inside which could sometimes block your mind and visions.
North Node in Ninth house:
You go on short travel lot, not a good combination for your father as his health or work could suffer.
You may be attracted towards two to three religions at the same time; you usually don’t get right or correct advice and has bitter relationship with your teachers.
You might leave your religion and embrace some other religion or become atheist. There are chances you marry outside your religion or country.
You’re spiritual but not religious.
North Node in Tenth House:
North Node is exalted here.
It makes your multitalented and multi tasker, but you have problem with finishing your tasks. You sometimes take more on your plate then you can handle.
You will have problem with your bosses and jobs. You love to try different projects and try different things.
North Node in Eleventh House:
North Node is exalted here:
It gives a lot of desires and gains as well. You should be careful with your friends and family as they might try to spoil your name and reputation and could be jealous of your success as well.
North Node in twelfth house:
It will give foreign travel, foreign land settlement, and gives you ability to astral travel. You have good intuition and sometimes, could sense or see the negative events in your life before it occurs. This combination either will make you lazy or give you disturbed sleep.
You have wild sexual fantasies and high desires to reach on top or for expansion.
You like to store things and don’t give them easily to others. You have problem with letting go your emotions easily.
You hold on things and people and has karmic relationships with your spouse and family.
You get Déjà and lucid dreams.
You are more spiritual then religious. You attract spirit and other worldly beings easily towards you. You have interest in conspiracy theories and occult.
Please support me on.
2K notes
·
View notes