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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 4 months

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come rest your bones next to me ; satoru gojo, suguru geto

synopsis; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most.

word count; 4.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader/suguru geto (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, you're all whipped, reader referred to as spouse, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly domestic, just comfy vibes all around, mostly from satoru’s pov, suguru has a favorite (its you) (but also not really he just likes bullying toru <3), satoru gojo may or may not have unresolved mommy issues

a/n; happy satosugu holidays to those who celebrate <33 geto died today isnt that crazy. dont u think its fucked up how love figuratively and literally killed him. anyway! help urself to two very whipped husbands <33

”holy shit!”

the raspy tilt of satoru’s voice echoes throughout the bedroom, stirring you from your comfortable slumber. a soft groan spills from suguru’s lips, deep and husky, as he pulls you closer into his embrace — smoothing a warm palm down the back of your head. trying to soothe you back to sleep, muttering under his breath.

”satoru, it’s too early for this...”

”it’s snowing!” said man continues, unperturbed. unmistakably giddy. he’s standing by the window, hands pressed flush against the cold glass; entirely entranced by the sight in front of his cerulean eyes.

your eyelids begin to flutter. a tiny tug of your subconscious, a pang of something excited flowing through your veins, an alert to your sleepy brain.

(snowing.)

with groggy movements, you wriggle out of suguru’s grasp — a displeased grumble leaves his throat, almost a whine — allowing you to scramble out of bed. ”really?” you chirp, rubbing the sleep from beneath your eyes. a raspy, meek little voice spilling into the air.

satoru grins, watching you move closer, watching as a tiny gasp pushes past your lips. watching as your droopy eyes widen — brightening, glittering, starlight and snowflakes painted on the interior of your iris. a breathtaking sight, he thinks.

maybe even more breathtaking than the winter wonderland reflected in it; beyond the pure opaque frosting of the window’s glass, out into your backyard, buried beneath a thick layer of snow. soft and fluffy, covering the city, suguru’s long-frozen tulip garden, the bare branches of your apricot tree. every roof in sight. all of it dyed a pure white, glittering in the light of a morning sun yet to fully rise, tiny snowflakes descending down to earth.

it’s beautiful.

satoru loves winter. he always has, he thinks. it comes to him as a memory — blurred at the edges, gleaming even still, the first time he saw those snowflakes up close. someone held him in their arms, he recalls. a warmth long faded.

all he can properly remember is that sight. one that knocked the breath from out his tiny lungs, all glitter and something almost other-worldly, something frightening in its majesty. like it broke through a rift in the stratosphere.

the first snow of the year.

and he’s loved it ever since; the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet, an air heavy with the scent of cinnamon and candied apples, bouts of laughter to be heard from faraway apartments. red and green glimmers of artificial light, sweet frosting on the christmas cake he would always gobble up alone in his room. the cold wind, nipping at his bare fingers — a reminder of his capacity for ache.

there are lots of things to love. lots of memories to cherish. and every single year, he gets the chance to make more.

like this; the light in your eyes, the smile on your face, the excitement in how hurriedly you turn to meet his giddy gaze. a nostalgic kind of joy simmering in the space between you.

and before either of you know it, satoru’s pulling you towards the hallway, intent on dragging you outside to see it all up close. almost tripping over his agumon plush, lying unassumingly on the floor, kicked off the bed once again.

(probably by satoru himself, though he’ll always insist it was suguru’s doing. overcome by his jealousy, unable to stand the sight of his cute husband cuddling up to a plushie instead of him. satoru understands, he does — he feels the same when he sees you hug that 3’0 cat plushie of yours.

and, sure, maybe once or twice he’s been lucid enough to register the subconscious kick of his leg and agumon’s subsequent fall to the floor — but he’ll still blame suguru in the morning. if only to see the way said man rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue, maybe flicks his forehead if he’s lucky.)

high on the spirit of christmas, spurred on by childlike elation and sleep-deprivation, you stumble towards the door. satoru pulls one of his jackets over your shoulders, delighting in the way your hands don’t fully reach through the sleeves. wrapping you up in a cozy scarf when suguru shouts at you both to dress warmly, barely awake and already tired of your antics.

and the moment you step through the door, satoru is engulfed by it. that mystical, mystical feeling.

a little lonely, a little too satisfying to pass up. a cold breeze that nips at his fingertips, snowflakes that brush against his cheeks and stick to his white lashes. a warm hand in his, as you cling to his side, shuddering — but smiling, as you look up at the sky, putting a hand out just to feel the snowflakes melt against the skin of your palm.

he feels you let go of him, but doesn’t mention it. a little too mesmerized to tug you back. dipping his toes into the bittersweet nostalgia of it all, staring at the flurry of white all around you, the skeletal branches of your apricot tree. suguru’s poor tulips. humming a jolly tune, subconsciously. a little delighted.

— until something cold and wet hits the exposed skin of his neck.

satoru twitches, a chilling shudder trickling down his spine. the snowball just thrown at him begins to melt, droplets sticking to his nape, and he turns to you with a raise of his brow. a devilish grin on his lips, when he hears your muffled laughter, sees the crinkle of your eyes.

(you’re cute, he thinks. but you need to be humbled.)

”oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” he drawls, eyes gleaming with amusement. taking a step forward, reaching down to gather some snow in his palm. a wide grin on his glossy lips. ”fine by me.”

he's fast, but you act quickly, running towards the apricot tree with laughter in your throat. feeling the pitter patter of your heartbeat resound in your ears, as the snowball misses its mark by just a hair — and you waste no time in making your own.

it’s a hard-fought duel. snowfall blocking your vision, nerves beginning to numb, red cheeks and runny noses as you chase each other with giddy breaths. unfortunately for you, satoru’s arms are unfairly long, fingers unfairly nimble, and his stamina never even seems to falter.

so before long, your energy begins to dwindle. chest heaving, hands too cold to form a proper snowball, while your husband seems like he hasn’t even broken a sweat. they just keep on coming, snowball after snowball colliding with the fabric of your jacket, and when one of them hits your collarbone you squeal — falling backwards, right into a fresh pile of snow.

satoru moves forward, a triumphant smirk on his handsome face. you’re out of breath, and your hands are red, and he’s fairly certain you’re gonna catch a cold. suguru’s going to scold him, but right now all he can think of is you. the frown you’re wearing, the little huff that slips from your lips.

”ready to admit defeat, sweetheart?” he practically purrs, standing above you with his hands on his hips. smug. and you grin right back.

”never.”

a hum. something glimmers in his eyes, a devious little glint, and you come to regret your decision when satoru gathers a heap of snow with his overgrown arms; only to drop it all on top of you. too tired to fight back, all you can do is shield your face, silently accepting your fate.

a shiver wracks through your body, and satoru almost feels bad. just a tiny bit. but then you finally relent, murmuring bitterly under your breath. ”fine, fine…” a soft pout forms on your lips. ”you win.”

and satoru smiles. crouching down to meet you at eye level, on his knees in front of you. there’s a teasing mirth in his eyes, when he reaches out to cup the fat of your cheek. ”that’s all i wanted to hear, sweet pea,” he drawls, trying not to giggle when you exaggeratedly roll your eyes.

his voice curls down an octave when he continues, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. hot breath against your chilled skin. ”now, for my prize…”

his lips meet yours, sweet and chaste — a little cheeky. you scoff into the kiss, but satoru’s smile only grows. honeyed, a little bit adoring. his tongue flits out to lick at your cold bottom lip.

he lingers, for a bit. like he’s trying to savour the way you taste, faded strawberry chapstick sticking to his lips, smudged against your own. and you sigh, softly, melting a little, comforted by the fleeting warmth that blossoms on your face.

when he's finally satisfied, having dragged his prize out to its completion, satoru helps you up. brushing snowflakes off your jacket, cradling your ice-cold hands in his. they’re not faring much better, but a worried tug of his heartstrings compels him to warm you up. bringing them to his lips, hot breath fanning over your skin, tender little kisses against the knots of your knuckles.

you can’t help but blush, and a raspy chuckle flows from out his lips.

hazy morning sunshine licks at the branches of the apricot tree behind you, illuminating the contours of your face, the shine of his eyes. a blue smudge on a canvas painted white and gray. the air smells of pine cones and something smokey, crisp. it courses through his burning lungs when he inhales, exhales, a breath of vapour that scatters up into the sky.

satoru loves winter. always has. but now, he’s certain he loves it even more.

because now, he has two people to share it with. two people to drag out into the snow, two people whose hands he can tenderly warm up, two people who’ll laugh and sigh at his antics and still indulge him. two people to pelt with snowballs.

what more could a man want?

”hey, idiots!”

the voice that echoes throughout the air is exasperated, a little teasing. yet fond. suguru’s got his hair tied into a messy half done bun, black turtleneck sweater enunciating his broad chest and the curve of his waist. there’s a fatigue in his eyes, the creases of his face, but a lazy smile is playing at his lips.

”i’m making breakfast,” he shouts, voice deep and smokey and soft even still. ”come in and warm up before you catch a cold.”

”is that any way to speak to your husband and spouse?” satoru chimes back, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. something satisfied. pleased.

suguru shoots him an unimpressed look, but his eyes soften. melting a little, at the words that spill from satoru’s lips, as if they were always meant to be there.

(husband. spouse. suguru wills himself not to smile.)

with matching grins on your faces, the two of you stumble back towards the door. snow crunching beneath your feet, a happy noise pushing past your lips when you collide with the warmth of your husband’s chest.

”look, suguru. isn’t it pretty?” you chirp, smiling brightly. an expression he mirrors — brushing some snow from the top of your head, warm palms caressing your cold skin, setting a mental reminder to scold satoru later. sparing a brief glance at the snowy veil over reality.

then he exhales. a fond hum. ”it is.”

satoru joins you both by the door, stretching out his lanky limbs. tousled hair, wet strands sticking to his skin, reddened cheeks and a signature pout. ”suguru, my hands are cold,” he whines. ”warm ’em up for me?”

a click of his tongue. ”should’ve put some gloves on, satoru.”

a hum buzzes in your throat, and you put your hands out. itchy, a little dry. a sad frown tugs at your lips when you speak. ”my hands are also cold.”

and, like clockwork, suguru’s eyes soften. a coo tiptoeing on his tongue, engulfing your hands in his larger ones. ”aw, c’mere, my love…” his breath fans over your frozen fingertips. ”let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

satoru gasps, a hand on his chest, and you stifle a giggle. he’s acting, you both know, being a little drama queen. he knows you’re just exaggerating suguru’s double standard as a bit, that your husband would probably set himself on fire to warm either of you up.

despite that, his voice comes out thoroughly offended. ”oh, i see how it is,” he huffs, walking past the both of you. pouting deeply. ”you hate me. you hate me, and you want me to die. i understand.”

”satoru,” you coo. he hmphs, but stills, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him. and you do — a little too eager to appease your giant baby of a husband.

”we’re just joking around,” you assure him, holding back a humorous chuckle. squeezing his waist with palpable fondness. ”love you sooo much. you know that.”

satoru stays silent. but he cranes his neck, to meet suguru’s gaze, standing just behind him. narrowing his cobalt eyes — a meaningful look.

suguru sighs.

”yes, yes. we love you oh so much.” he takes a step forward, ruffling the white head of hair by the door. a lazy smile on his lips. ”now behave and go change out of your pyjamas. they’re soaked.”

his voice is teasing. exasperated, more than a little condescending. but it’s suguru, so satoru accepts it — following you both into the warmth of your home. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla hangs heavy in the air, a hint of espresso and firewood, lulling him into a sweet state of tranquility. rich with comfort, safety.

he changes out of his wet clothes, pulling a black hoodie over his head before waltzing into the kitchen. and you do the same, emerging from your bedroom in one of suguru’s cozy sweaters, knitted and smelling of bergamot.

when suguru notices, his gaze shifts into something fond. palpable. a look satoru always finds in the scope of those warm eyes, amber and cedar bleeding into something sweet, only ever directed at the two of you. a look said man assumes goes unnoticed. he’s not as slick as he thinks.

the kitchen simmers with hazy sunlight and gentle movements, something sleepy and kind. satoru is a little bit enamored with it; from bowls of cat food by the corner, to camellias by the windowsill, cookie jars and dried lemon slices, the fading scent of baked goods and wishlists stuck to the fridge.

(yours and satoru’s are filled with scribbles, new ideas popping up daily, while suguru’s is almost entirely blank; mostly necessities, one or two things he’d like for himself.

and then, of course, the same thing he writes at the top of his wishlist every year; some peace and quiet.)

suguru shuffles around the kitchen, long strands of black hair cascading down his back, swaying with his movements. he sends you both an affectionate glance when you step in, already in the process of making satoru his cup of hot chocolate — topped with marshmallows and whipped cream, colorful sprinkles in the shape of tiny stars, a touch of cinnamon. satoru licks his lips.

when it's finished, the cup is promptly handed to him, paired with a tender kiss to his forehead. and suguru starts the meticulous brewing of your coffee, steady hands, finely chosen coffee beans, the low purring of the espresso machine. soothing.

that’s when you attach yourself to his back. wrapping your arms around his waist, a sleepy yawn muffled into the fabric of his turtleneck. he places a big palm on your hand, thumb smoothing over your knuckle, and you nuzzle into him silently. suguru smiles.

”still sleepy, baby?” he questions, a coo on the tip of his tongue. his voice is soft, palpably so, buzzing with warmth and safety and something that makes you want to stay cuddled up to him forever.

satoru senses an opportunity to insert himself into the conversation, and forces out a yawn of his own. stretching his limbs like a big cat, blinking drowsily, eyelashes fluttering. hoping it’ll come off as endearing. ”mhm.”

but suguru shoots him an unimpressed look. ”not you,” he tuts, patting your arm, ”this baby. i wasn’t asking you.”

a pout. ”why are you so mean to me?” he whines, shooting you a doe-eyed look. bottom lip jutting out slightly, a feigned glassiness to his eyes. ”sweetie, tell your husband to stop being so mean to me.”

you smile. indulgent, as always. ”don't be so mean to him, suguru. you know he’s sensitive.”

a sigh. deep, tinged with exhaustion. satoru shares an amused look with you — stifling a shared chuckle at suguru’s exasperation.

and suddenly, he feels something warm flutter in his ribcage. a sunkissed butterfly, wings brushing against his ribs, coaxing his lips into curling up. unmistakable fondness, almost too much to bear. the need to reach out and touch you creeps up on him, a hunger he can’t deny, but he holds back; you look comfy like that, curled up against suguru’s spine. so he only inches closer, without a word.

his husband casts him a glance, but satoru stays silent. lips pursed, waiting for something. patient.

and suguru relents. he reaches a hand out, to tuck a stray strand of white hair behind his ear — an excuse to touch him. a silent apology.

(i'm sorry, you big baby.)

satoru grins.

you shift from foot to foot, leaning over to see what suguru is doing, pressing buttons and taking two ceramic cups out from a wall cabinet. your eyes zero in on a particular shelf, narrowing in suspicion, before flitting over to meet your husband’s gaze.

”satoru, did you use up all my peppermint sweeteners again?”

he stiffens. just a tad, before swallowing a gulp — followed by a silly chuckle, sheepish and performative, eager to wiggle his way out of your cold gaze. ”… which sweeteners do you mean, honey?”

”don’t pull the ’honey’ card.”

”and don’t play dumb, either.”

a pout crosses his lips. betrayed. ”suguru, who’s side are you even on?”

said man gives him a look. that one look, characteristically suguru, the same one he always sends satoru’s way. one so thoroughly unimpressed it makes him feel like the world’s biggest clown.

and satoru plays along. your dutiful, beloved clown, his posture wilting like a sad flower. suguru exhales through his nose.

”don’t steal their sweeteners.” he smooths a thumb over your knuckle, absentminded, meeting the cold metal of the ring on your finger. smiling a little at the sensation. ”buy your own.”

satoru huffs, drawn out and childish. crossing his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. ”ah, i see how it is. leaving your sweet husband to buy his own sweeteners?” he clicks his tongue. ”chivalry is dead.”

you bite back a little chuckle — satoru recognizes the cute noise you make when you do — and suguru rolls his eyes. fondly, always. ”remind me next time i go to the store and i’ll consider it.”

”hmph.”

suguru is smiling. it’s small, but genuine, worth a thousand words. and you are, too, the vague crinkle of your eyes giving you away. even as you bury your face in the curve of suguru’s back.

and ah, satoru thinks. there it is again.

that sickeningly sweet sense of deja vu; the sensation of a certain something flourishing deep inside his chest. warming him up, trickling through his frost-bitten veins. that one little itch he never manages to satisfy, that never goes away, something that took root inside his heart years ago — watered by the sweet looks on your faces.

this everyday slice of heaven, right in front of him, that he’s been greedily partaking in ever since he moved in with you. since he married you.

(married.)

sometimes he still can’t believe it.

”it’ll be done in a minute,” suguru hums, and satoru blinks. broken out of his syrupy stupor. ”you two go wait by the kotatsu, okay? must be cold, poor babies.”

and, as always, his voice is a little teasing. a tiny bit condescending, if you really strain your ears, in typical suguru fashion. but it’s laced with a touch of sweetness; one that would be too much for either of you to stomach, if it were to drip out of his lips with nothing to water it down. so satoru accepts it. welcomes it, even.

and you follow his suggestion. making your way towards the living room, satoru trailing behind you, continuously enamored by every little thing he sees. every little piece of the home you’ve built for yourselves.

your living room is cozy. several potted plants seated here and there, a thick quilt to cover the kotatsu, a bowl of satsumas on top of it. a sleepy cat on your couch, golden sunshine ruffling her fur. a santa hat lies beside her, and satoru snags it without much thought. pulling it over his head.

his gaze shifts to the christmas tree over in the corner, eyes filling with a childlike kind of wonder. it’s decorated to completion, weighed down by colourful ornaments and lights, a star at the very top. suguru cut it himself, bringing the biggest and prettiest one he could find back home.

(satoru had gone with him. partially to help carry it back, mostly to get a glimpse of suguru's biceps flexing with the swing of the axe. he’s a simple man.)

and beneath it, presents are already beginning to pile up. carefully wrapped, in bows and silken paper, growing more each day. shattering suguru’s hopes of maybe having a more lowkey christmas this year — but satoru couldn’t be more relieved. this is the only time of year you let him get away with pampering you both to his heart’s content.

a smile blooms on his lips. he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs, right as suguru walks in with a coffee pot in hand. their gazes overlapping.

and something mischievous begins to brew within the blue of his eyes, something that makes suguru narrow his own. satoru pats his thigh, twice, a coo on the tip of his tongue. santa hat sitting pointedly on top of his head, fluffing up his hair.

”c’mere, suguru! sit on santa’s lap.”

”— you’re disgusting.”

the words are playful, but a pout still slips into the curve of satoru’s lips, and he huffs out a displeased little breath. his husband pretends not to hear it, so satoru turns to you — sitting so prettily to his right, already anticipating his next move. puppy dog eyes on full display, he gives you a soft tilt of his head, snowy tufts of hair falling over his eyes.

and you sigh, in what he knows is resignation. his faux pout turning into a satisfied grin.

you curl up in satoru’s lap without much of a fuss, letting him circle his arms around you. an indulgent smile rests on your lips, but he knows you love this; his broad chest against your back, the heat of the kotatsu warming your feet. breathing in the fading scent of your shampoo, he leaves a peck on the sensitive spot right behind your ear, and you try not to shudder.

then satoru smiles. squeezing you, lightly, sweetly, eyes rich with honeyed affection. voice dripping with playful endearment. ”there we go,” he coos. ”what does my angel want for christmas, hm?”

”i want you to stop stealing my peppermint sweeteners,” comes your answer. instantaneous.

silence fills the room. a moment passes. outside your frosted windows, a bird takes flight from the branches of your apricot tree. and satoru clicks his tongue.

”… santa can only do so much, baby.”

two deep scoffs fill the air, heavy and bemused. one from you, one from suguru. satoru only giggles.

”just kidding!” he chirps, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”don’t you worry. santa’ll give you all the peppermint sweeteners you could ever want.”

you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. craning your head to meet his gaze. ”and he won’t end up using them all himself?”

”of course not! blasphemy.”

a moment passes.

”… maybe one or two. as a treat.”

a string of protests slips from your lips, and satoru tries not to burst into a fit of giggles. suguru just watches, silently, smiling lightly as he pours hot coffee into two ceramic cups. steam wafting up to the ceiling, a cat jumping down from the couch to curl up in his lap. he places one in front of you, not taking a single sip of his own until he hears you hum blissfully at the taste — pink lips against white ceramic. a bitter taste on his tongue, sweetened by your approval.

then he starts peeling three satsumas, absentmindedly, and satoru swallows down the love-ridden honey choking up the back of his throat. pretending the domesticity of such a simple action doesn’t melt his heart down to the marrow.

he turns his attention towards the window. frost sticking to the glass like spider-woven webs, soon to be melted by the glow of the mellow winter sunrays. flitting in through the curtains, cascading over the room, splattering across the floorboards. framing the hue of your hair, the smile on suguru’s lips.

and a memory comes to him. sudden, hazy, faded at the edges. ghosting his subconscious.

he remembers the frost, the biting wind, the frightening majesty of the snow that fell that day. breaking into his world through a rift in the stratosphere. he remembers the contrasting warmth of the person who held him, who cradled him close; the soft lull of a woman’s voice.

for a moment, satoru thinks he can almost, almost see it before him. hear those gentle words, see her tired smile. why was she always so tired?

(look, satoru. isn’t it pretty?)

— he can’t recall how it sounded. if it was melodic and soft, or raspy and broken, happy or sad. but he does recall that it made him feel safe. safe enough to find comfort in a sight so other-worldly, so very foreign.

it should’ve been frightening, but it wasn’t. the first snowfall satoru ever saw knocked the breath from out his lungs, stole his heart with cold hands, left him with a suffocating nostalgia. but the memory is precious.

and now, he feels that sense of other-worldliness in this; a kotatsu for three, a warm house, peeled satsumas and promises of a christmas cake soon to be baked. one lovely spouse in his lap, the other gazing at him with that fond look he always assumes goes unnoticed. a cocoon of safety — a ghost he doesn’t need to chase anymore.

warmth. enough warmth to make up for the snow and frost outside your home, all the experiences he missed out on as a child. warmth, warmth, warmth. funny, how that happens to be satoru’s favorite thing about winter.

he looks at the two of you, hoping you won’t pay any mind to his silence. for once, he hopes you’ll stay wrapped up in your awful, awful coffee, so bitter that just looking at it makes his throat feel dry. just so he can get away with admiring you for a little longer. from the contours of suguru’s face, to the skin of your collarbone, to the rings on your fingers. ones he put there himself.

and ah, satoru thinks, there it is again. again and again, as always, forever. that warm, warm feeling flourishing in the depths of his chest.

he hopes it never goes away.

#genuinely fucked up that suguru geto isnt in my kitchen rn </3 #i just think sugu is such a caretaker. makes u breakfast and peels ur satsumas w/o u even asking. bc it makes him happy :’3 hes so Mother #i think he lowkey gets just a little bit uncomfortable when u or gojo try to do the same for him… he likes doting on u #but obv he deserves to be pampered too!! just gotta ease him into it #and i think gojo has a hole in his heart where love should be. bc he wasnt given enough as a child #im not sure what to think when it comes to his parents (since we know literally nothing abt them) but...#the idea of him finding some comfort in the memory of his mom…. maybe not realizing that he misses her…..… i think its very sad. and good.#listened to ricky montgomery while writing this i think it mightve healed me #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto x reader x gojo #gojo fluff #geto fluff #satosugu x reader #satosugu x you #satosugu x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #……… thats… a lot of tags.

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rintoki · 8 months

Text

when you sleep at night

characters: kafka x dom!reader

tw: somnophilia, dubcon, nothing too crazy actually relax

a/n: i guess this can be considered a second part to my first kafka smut, its like the exact same setting and dynamic.

MINORS DNI

the door opens easily as kafka steps into the entrance way, slipping out of her heeled boots and quietly making her way through the dark living room. all the lights in the house was out and it was eerily silent, through the dim lighting kafka strains her eyes to check the clock hanging on your wall.

11:37pm

you couldn’t possibly be sleeping this early yet. but, alas, you proved to be unpredictable to her once again as she turns the knob to your bedroom, pushing it open to reveal your sleeping form on the bed. her feet padded softly on the floor; taking slow, deliberate steps closer to the bed that you laid on.

kafka clicked her tongue, a tinge of annoyance blossoming in her chest when she sees that you were indeed fast asleep and not just pretending to mess with her. not that you were the type to do that anyway. she felt her finger twitch unconsciously, standing foolishly by your bed as she is once again reminded of how little you cared for her. despite her now regular visits to your residence, you never once welcomed her, nor have you ever made any type of accommodations towards her.

the woman breathes deeply, your familiar scent permeates the room and her body is quick to react to it. reminded of all the late nights spent together, how warm your body felt next to hers, and how good you made her feel. kafka shuts her eyes for a moment, deciding on what to do now. part of her knows that the right thing to do is to leave and come back another time, preferably informing you beforehand like you had asked of her.

but instead she remains in her spot; unmoving as she watches the steady rise and fall of your chest, your soft breasts hidden underneath the thin material of your pyjamas, and how easy it would be to simply unbutton it right now. kafka finds herself getting lost in her thoughts, eyes raking over your body as she thinks about everything she could do to you now. but more than anything, her purple eyes finally land on your hands; the same hands that brought her orgasm after orgasm. the very ones that hugged and caressed her body, how she wanted to feel them again.

and as if in a trance, kafka pushes her jacket off her shoulders, letting the expensive coat fall to the floor without a care. normally unheard of with how much she loves her coats, but now there’s no one here to see that. and there’s no one to witness as she peels off the layers of her clothing, her belly tightening with every passing second and soon the woman stood in nothing but her panties.

kafka crawls gingerly onto the bed, careful to not wake you as she eyes your hand resting by your side. she tests the waters, nimble fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling it away from your body. when you show no reaction does the excitement bubble up within her, her pussy already beginning to ache with need

inch by inch, she shuffles closer. until your relaxed fingers lay just underneath her clothed pussy, a wet spot now forming on her panties. kafka’s breathes deeply, trying to keep it even as she lowers herself onto your hand, feeling your fingers fold naturally under her weight.

a shaky breath escapes her at the feeling, slowly moving her hips back and forth on your curled fingers, not caring how awkward the position was. kafka watches your sleeping form carefully, but you showed no signs of waking up, still blissfully unaware and deeply asleep.

a small part of her was annoyed—that you didn’t wake up and catch her in the act, that she won’t get to see your reaction. but the larger part of her is now pushing off her panties, letting her bare pussy rub against the palm of your hand. it was warm, and the ridges brushed perfectly against her swollen clit. kafka shudders, her breathing turns heavy as she continues the slow rutting of her hips, allowing herself to enjoy the sensations until your hand was sufficiently lubricated from how much she leaked.

and with shaky hands, she positioned your fingers upright, aligning it with her hole before sinking down upon them. kafka nearly whines, biting back any sounds as your fingers penetrates her tight walls. she grips your wrist, holding them in place as the woman lifts her hips once again, this time pushing your fingers into her pussy. again and again, your fingers sunk deep into her warmth and kafka pants quietly. her mind was feeling dizzy from the entire situation, the fact that you weren’t even conscious now and yet you still managed to reduce her to this state. how even just your fingers was enough for her pussy to twitch and push back so desperately against your hand.

she squeezes her eyes shut, her head hung low and nearing the verge of her orgasm as she angles your wrist so that the tips of your fingers brushed against her spot. the sensitive patch of nerves singing in response as it felt like shocks ran through her body. kafka gasps loudly, unable to hold back her moans now as it almost felt like your hand was moving by itself. too far gone to put the pieces together even when your fingers begin to curl and thrust inside her, or when your thumb has suddenly begin to press against her clit at the same time.

her mouth hung open, panting breathlessly as her body felt like it was on fire. her hand wrapped helplessly around your wrist even as it moved by itself and her back arched, muscles flexing and her thighs trembled terribly. kafka was right on the edge, just a little more… just one more stroke, just one more thrust…

“agh…! fu—fuck, wha…!”

the woman felt every sensation in her body stop cold. before she’d knew it your hand was already ripped from her body, and her orgasm had come to a screeching halt. kafka nearly chokes, scrambling to her senses as she finally raises her head to face you.

from her flushed expression to her bare body, your cold eyes finally landed on your soaked fingers, covered in her wetness after having used it for her own pleasure. kafka watches with wide eyes; somewhere in her mind she understood that you had probably been awake for a while now, that you’d probably purposely fucked with her. brought her to the brink of an orgasm before ruthlessly ripping it away from her.

her heart pounds in her chest, an unfamiliar feeling as she waits for your next move, your next words. what will you with her now? she’s not that shameless to ask you to make her cum again after begin caught like that, but for whatever reason she could feel her pussy tightening again, waiting with anticipation of what you might do to her now.

#ERMMM #CLIFFHANGER ????#i know there’s nothing inherently dom/sub about what’s happening in this fic but idc if u read this any other way i will kill you #this dynamic is purely SUB KAFKA X DOM READER #the reason why this is so short is because i actually planned to write more about what happens after #but lowkey i feel like i don’t know how people will receive that so i just kept it short and sweet #i wanna continue with what happens after but maybe in another fic #six.writes #honkai star rail #kafka #honkai star rail kafka #kafka x reader #kafka x you #sub kafka #dom!reader #sub honkai star rail #i’m testing with this fic lol

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dazais-guardian-angel · 8 months

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Chapter 110 is 13 pages long welcome to hell!!! so in a lot of ways this is just more fuel for a theory that I've had for a few weeks now, that's only gotten stronger with each recent season 5 episode, which is that the last episode of the season is gonna end on 110, and that Asagiri/Harukawa and Bones have been collaborating to make this happen, specifically because it's a major turning point that would be the only good place to end the season on.

When we started getting especially long chapters again (like from 25-35ish pages, with the exception of 107.5, the last two being some of the longest we've ever had), at first I just assumed that Asagiri/Harukawa got freed up from some other obligations they'd been having to cause the extremely short/half chapters, like promotional stuff for the anime/Beast movie, or working on light novels. But then 109 happened, with the "supposed" death of Dazai, and heavy emphasis at the end on how literally everyone is at their lowest point right now, and I got to thinking. 11 episodes is a strangely specific number for an anime season -- why not 12, or 13, or even 10, like you'd usually see? Why have we gotten suddenly gotten two 35 page chapters out of nowhere, that's almost unheard of at this point? They're both beautiful chapters, don't get me wrong (as always), and maybe A/H simply just didn't want to cut them in halves because they felt like the full emotional impact wouldn't hit/that there were no good cutoff points in them, but you can't deny that it's surprising, after all the shorter chapters we've been getting. Why has the anime been going at such insanely breakneck pacing for the most part ever since around the Sunday Tragedy chapters, even more so than it has in the past? So much so that it feels dangerously close to overtaking the manga?

Well, maybe, just maybe, it's because..... Asagiri decided a long time ago that whatever happens in 110 is the only point that feels "season finale"-worthy enough, in an arc that still isn't anywhere close to being completely wrapped up, and so both the manga and the anime have been specifically coordinated to reach that part within 2 and a half weeks of each other?

I've seen a lot of people now think season 5 will end with 109, and as much as my sadistic side would find that hilarious, I honestly don't think they'd do that and realistically don't want it to happen; it'd be so cruel to cliffhanger the anime for years like that, and just doesn't feel like a season cliffhanger BSD would do, a series that is ultimately hopeful and uplifting. Seasons 2 and 3 had a positive, conclusive ending; the only reasons seasons 1 and 4 didn't was because they're technically not really full seasons of their own, and are more like the first cour of another "season" that also came out that same year (seasons 1 and 2 both aired in 2016, so they're more like one big season, and seasons 4 and 5 have both aired this year, so they're also more like one big season, again taking into account how episodes 12 and 50 are not satisfying finales like episodes 24, 37, and hypothetically, 61, are). I really can't see season 5 ending with Dazai and Fukuzawa's supposed deaths, Sigma being unconscious and maybe close to death, Atsushi being vulnerable and limbless again, everyone we love still vampires, and the entire world being basically doomed; that's just too depressing and not like BSD at all. However, having said that, if it doesn't end there, there really isn't any good place to end the season before that, either, that feels in any way satisfying or like a finale at all. And so, to me, that only leaves after 109: chapter 110.

I think things are really gonna turn around next chapter. Like I said, everyone is at their lowest point right now, it cannot possibly get any worse, the framing of Dazai, Fukuzawa, and sskk at the end of 109 is telling us that; this is the time for the heroes to finally start winning again, with Aya being so close to pulling out the sword, and for all the thematic reasons other people have talked about to death that I don't need to go into here again. This upcoming chapter being so short again makes a part of me wary of 110 being "the one", so to speak, I won't lie, but at the same time, it's very possible that it needs to be that short because that's all the final episode of the season will be able to reasonably fit in, since it's already gonna be VERY close if they do make it all the way to 109. And at the end of the day, I don't doubt at all that Asagiri and Harukawa can make these the most monumental and game-changing mere 13 pages ever if they wanted to; a chapter does not at all need to be extremely long in order to be an important and impactful one, even if short ones we've gotten in the past haven't felt the most important.

An additional thought I've had, though this is much more crack territory than all this already is, is that since we know from Anime Expo that a Stormbringer movie at some point is highly likely (judging from Asagiri's reaction when someone brought it up), it's possible that chapter 110 and thus the final episode will involve the long-anticipated return of Verlaine and/or Adam, or at least some other major reference to Stormbringer, that would naturally and smoothly lead into a Stormbringer movie to explain things to people who haven't read the novel. It would make a lot of sense, especially since the s4 OP has the Old World sign behind Chuuya, which might be a hint that this has been in the works ever since seasons 4/5 were first in planning with Asagiri. We also know that Dazai and Chuuya's voice actors apparently struggled to record their lines together this season, which probably relates to 101 and possibly 109, but it could be 110 too.... I could be very wrong, as I'm no expert on this kind of thing, but I kinda doubt they would bring Chuuya's actor in for just the vampire growls, and Asagiri placing heavy emphasis on Chuuya's importance this season in that one interview gives me the impression that he's talking about much more than just 101/109. But that's the least solid evidence I have, that's just mostly based on vibes I get.

So basically, I think a lot of factors -- the unusual episode count, how close the anime is to catching up to the manga with three whole episodes left, the seemingly arbitrary recent chapter lengths, and the climactic events of 109 -- can tell us that 110 might be a very, VERY big deal. Again, there's of course no way this arc is anywhere near close to being finished, with so much left to address and resolve, but since it is currently incomplete in the manga, unlike the previously adapted arcs, if the anime was going to adapt it at all, they'd have to find a place that feels satisfying enough to end this season, knowing there won't be more anime for a long time after this, and so I think they specifically planned for that, from both Bones' and A/H's sides. 10 episodes might not have been enough to reach that point, but 12 or 13 might have been too many it wouldn't have been if Bones actually decided to slow down and let the story breathe the way it needs to, but this post isn't meant to criticize the anime, so maybe 11 was just right. And maybe Asagiri and Harukawa specifically pushed to make recent chapters longer than usual, in order to make sure that the manga reached the story content in 110 the monthly release right before season 5 was to end.

Is this just copium? Absolutely. Am I going to look like an absolute clown in two days when this post ages like milk? Probably. But the evidence is There, so let me just enjoy my delusions until Sunday, okay 🥂🫡

#bungou stray dogs #seriously call me a clown and point and laugh at me if I'm proven wrong all you want #but I really feel like there's solid evidence for this #either s5 isn't gonna reach 109 at all (but I seriously cannot fathom where you would want to stop before then) or they'll go beyond it #if they really do end it with 109....... well i'll give Bones kudos for having the balls to do that ig lol #maybe i'm underestimating (overestimating???) them idk #also just to clarify I don't wanna make it sound like I think Asagiri let the anime/Bones dictate the manga's pacing #like I'm sure these were his/their (him and Harukawa's) own decisions first and foremost #not that (if this theory is true) the anime had a major impact on how the chapters were split and that it-#-would have been extremely different otherwise #i'm pretty confident in that Asagiri does not do anything with BSD he isn't comfortable with #and he doesn't let anyone tell him how to write his story #I just feel like he worked with Bones to make this near-simultaneous release happen #BUT if this is the case I don't feel like it had any major effect on the writing/final product that is the manga #like the last handful of chapters have been so incredible #so I at least am still perfectly happy lol #(i mean i'm devastated and a nervous wreck but u know 🫡 in a good way lmao)#anyway 110 in two days please let this theory be true because I need some fucking hope already #please let Oda show up as Dazai's guardian angel to help (see what I did there-)#it would be the perfect way to end the collective season that is 4/5 with s4 beginning with Oda and now ending with Oda #Asagiri are you reading me are you picking up what I'm putting down please please a ghost Oda is long overdue please-#Oda Verlaine Adam just GIVE ME SOMEONE ALREADY 😭😭😭#MAYBE EVEN A TASTE OF THE FYODOR BACKSTORY TO TIE INTO HIM BEING IN ANIME UNTOLD ORIGINS. THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS

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sacchiri · 28 days

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Hellsing 2002 calendar illustration.

Ein wunderliche und erschröckliche Hystori von einem großen Wüttrich genant Dracole wayda Der do so ganz unkristenliche marrter hat angelegt die mensche, als mit spissen als auch die leut zu Tod geslyffen

A wondrous and frightening story about a great berserk called Dracula the voivode who inflicted such unchristian tortures such as with stakes and also dragged people to death

#hellsing #alucard #kouta hirano #translation was found in a comment by u/lazyfoxheart on r/Kurrent #fun fact this is the highest quality version of this image that exists online #i know because i've been looking forever for a version that's clear enough to actually read what hirano wrote under '1443'#but there weren't any so i had to take matters into my own hands #the real image on the back of the guidebook is only 2 inches tall so i had to take this with my smartphone and will my hands not to shake #anyway i'm pretty sure it's supposed to say Eğrigöz (the location vlad was imprisoned) so yeah. thank you hirano very cool #if i might rant for a sec it took me an embarrassingly long time to figure that out because i didn't have the guidebook at first #and in the images i could find online that part was just a blur that looked suspiciously like a person's signature and i was like. who tf #i was thinking matthias corvinus since he issued some political propaganda against vlad iirc but it didn't match his signature on wikipedia #then i thought it might be vlad II dracul's since he probably had to sign an agreement to send his sons over as hostages at some point #but that didnt seem right either so i kept skimming vlad's wiki page #and then i was like goddammit...hirano.....you just misspelled Eğrigöz didn't you.. ....#i maybe should've made a separate post dedicated to this instead of writing a novel in the tags but eh #the hellsing brainrot runs deep #also- i put it in the source link at the bottom of the post but the german inscription is copied off a real woodcut of vlad from 1491 #except instead of depicting him as an adult hirano drew him as a child which gives the inscription a very different feel imo #the one final thing that interests me about this is the fact that hirano published this calendar in 2002 #which is REALLY early in the series. like this was before volume 5 came out??#i have no idea why he decided to do a massive spoiler drop in a random piece of japan-only merch #sandwiched between a drawing of alucard as john travolta from saturday night fever and integra as a fish no less #it makes me really curious to know what the fan response to this was back then. like did people even know who this was #maybe im just an idiot and everyone back then was like 'ah yes its alucard as a 12 year old. how very informative'

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andy-clutterbuck · 1 year

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Happy Valentine's Day

#get you a man who will get you a present even while bleeding profusely #Rick Grimes #Michonne #Richonne #*#rg #yes she's playing with the beard in 2 gifs BUT SHE'S PLAYING WITH THE BEARD IN 2 GIFS #maybe 3 gifs......#the Santa Beard wins the war #raise your hand if you would have also gotten immediately knocked up #where was the apocalypse valentines day hmmm? ya know there would have been presents #kisses while the other sleeps tho #me soft? who'd have thunk #don't tell anyone #get you a man who will damn near fall out of his seat while driving to hold your hand #actually that's dangerous why u so cute richard #i had too many different moments in mind and didn't write them down so this is what happened lmao #when i was awake at 3am this morning

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generalsmemories · 24 days

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every time i see someone shit on the xianzhou story quest on twitter i die a little bit inside.

#narus' corner #SO LET'S TALK ABOUT HOW EVERYONE HATED XIANZHOU BECAUSE EVERYONE AND THEIR MOTHERS AND ANCESTORS HAD PULLED UP THEORY AFTER THEORY #AND WHEN SAID THEORY DID NOT FCKING GO ALONG WITH WHAT THE ACTUAL WRITERS HAD IN STORE HELL BROKE LOOSE #ion think u understand #maybe im biased. i probably am but the way hoyoverse tackled immortality with xianzhou is quite bittersweet honestly #YA'LL WANTED UR DOOMED YAOI AND YURI AND TBH ME TOO BUT THEY ARE STILL FCKING DOOMED EVEN IF SOME THEORIES DID NOT GO AS MOST SHIPPERS WANT #THEY STILL DOOMED MILADYS AND GENTS AND NONBINARY PEEPS DAN HENG IS SUFFERING FROM PTSD AS WE SPEAK.#u look at xianzhou and see predecessors suffering the consequences of what their ancestors wanted because of immortality and vow to stop it #because they been fighting people against GALAXIES who wants a taste of that immortality who also don't KNOW THE CONSEQUENCES OF IT WHICH I #LITERALLY GETTING MARA-STRUCK WHENEVER UR MEMORIES OVERLOAD FROM LIVING TOO LONG AND GO: damn this was shit writing cause i didn't understa #IMMA AAAH #eternal wars where when u find peace after winning you DON'T BECAUSE YOU TURN MARA-STRUCK FROM THE AMOUNT OF TRAUMA U HAVE #when immorality isn't immortality in a sense u can't be killed but long lifespan but then u can't even live said long lifespan #because u get mara-struck from participating in wars to protect AND YA'LL COME OVER HERE AND SAY BAD WRITING?!#and don't come with what the fuck is phantylia doing #ion think u understand how fucked we would've been if phantylia managed to actually absorb that ambrosial arbor AS A GODDAMN EMANATOR #OF DESTRUCTION OF ALL THINGS?! YA'LL WANT INFINITE HEALING WHILE GETTING BLASED OR SMTH!?!#and the aftermath which was probs the most hated on #imma just.#imma shut up LMFAO

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surelysilly · 11 months

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may 25th: blame ❀❀❀

You are young yet, my friend, but the time will arrive when you will learn to judge for yourself of what is going on in the world, without trusting to the gossip of others. Believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see.

- “ The System of Dr. Tarr and Prof. Fether” by Edgar Allan Poe

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀❀❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

believe nothing you hear (and only one half that you see)

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀❀❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, Danny Fenton, Various Character(s)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Older Danny Fenton, Underage Drinking

Batman: A Death in the Family

Timeline What Timeline

Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism

Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better

Ghost King Danny Fenton

Canon-Typical Violence

Implied/Referenced Self-Harm

Implied/Referenced Drug Use

Mild Language

Mild Hurt/Comfort

Non-Graphic Violence

Heavy Angst

Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Implied/Referenced Character Death

Canonical Character Death

Episode: s02e08-09 The Ultimate Enemy

Summary:

Despite her recently tanked GPA and impending out of school suspension — if not outright expulsion — Sam's still the smartest person she knows. She can figure this out.

She just has to be brave.

#batpoopart #Danny Phantom #danny phantom au #dp au #dannymay2023 #dp art #daisy chain au #maybe i'll expain that maybe i wont #an excuse to write nearly 7k about art through out history #what else is my degree good for smh #special thanks to my two betas you know who you are if you read this far down <3 #if someone can list all the art styles in the fic ill give u a cookie #danny phantom fanfiction #dp fic

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buggygerm · 1 year

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very messy roughs of my interpretation of a younger tails! i imagine after sonic had really settled with taking care of tails he struggled to find clothes and protective gear that would fit him bc he is so eenie weenie... the gloves r too big so they are tied on at the wrist and tails is a little clumsy when he runs bc the sneaks r a size too big. i think he grows into it pretty fast tho. and the little headscarf is just something tails wears when they go into cities/crowded areas because it gives him a sense of security :)

#cw blood #there are a lot of random ideas i just slapped down on these drawings #i dont have a concrete idea on how i think sonic and tails met specifically #but i might write it out for an upcoming fic #so maybe these will come in handy #what is most important is that u guys know he is eenie weenie #so small #with big ol paws that he grows into #absolute perfect little buddy material #miles tails prower #sonic the hedgehog #wdym u dont like my bug art

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laundrybiscuits · 1 year

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(continuing the MLP GURPS snippet)

“You what,” says Erica flatly.

“I said…Jester the Pegasus slits the chief Seapony’s throat. You said he was letting me pin the bronze seashell to his mane, right? So I shouldn’t have to roll for it, I can just use the edge of the seashell ‘cause his neck’s right there.” Dustin leans back with a shit-eating grin.

Eddie has to cover his own smile, because he recognizes the panicked look that Erica’s trying to hide. She’s the same kind of DM as Eddie is: she’s got a massive binder and detailed scripts for every possible way the story could go, because she likes to be prepared for anything. She just hasn’t learned yet that players are always, always going to try something you never saw coming because you assumed they were reasonable human beings and not chaos gremlins from a nightmare dimension.

She rallies like a champ. “Uh, sure, I guess. The hundreds of Seaponies around you go wild, because that was a super dumb thing to do. They’re gonna tear you apart if you don’t do something right now.”

Lucas leans in, eyes all lit up. “Okay, but, did the blood get onto the altar? I mean, the Moonlight Circle?”

Erica’s starting to grin too, lacing her fingers together as she catches on to what they’re after. “It sure did. Um, so…Jester the Pegasus Pony is standing over the fallen chief with a bloody shell in his teeth. The crowd of Seaponies is screaming at you, but the blood is already dripping onto the Moonlight Circle. It’s turning black as it reaches the salt water, and you can hear something real big coming up from the deep sea, wa-a-ay far down below.”

She’s pivoting with barely a stumble, going off-book to follow the story, and Eddie can’t keep from doing a thrilled little wriggle in his seat. A familiar laugh sounds from behind him, and he startles, flushing.

“Having fun?” Steve asks, resting his folded arms on the back of Eddie’s chair. Eddie has to tip his head all the way back to look at Steve.

“Hell yeah,” he says. “The Lady Sinclair is a demon incarnate.”

Erica beams. “Maybe you could keep up if you weren’t such a senior citizen. Need to get your walker from the nursing home, grandpa?”

“Youth of today have no respect.” Eddie wags a finger at her. “Keep that up and Steve’s going to swoop into the game like an avenging undead Seapony.”

“Steve is not involved in any of this,” says Steve. “Steve is a very generous and patient guy who lets unholy terrors take over his kitchen table and eat all his food.”

Eddie stretches up to pat his cheek. He misses slightly and ends up basically smacking Steve in the face. “Thank you, Steve,” he coos. “Say thank you, unholy terrors.”

“Thank you, Steve,” chorus Will and Lucas, who are precious angels too good for this world. Dustin and Mike pull grotesque faces that may or may not be based on faces Eddie has pulled in the past; Erica just sniffs in an unimpressed way. Eddie is going to keep these kids forever.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt…whatever this is.” Steve waves a hand at the piles of paper and dice and empty ice cream bowls. “I’m just gonna heat up some pizzas for dinner. Everyone okay with four-cheese and supreme?”

“Sounds great,” says Eddie. “We’re about ready to wrap up this session, I think.”

“What, no we’re not,” says Mike. “We’re about to kick the Seapony god’s ass.”

Erica wrinkles her nose. “As much as it might pain me to admit it…the senior citizen’s right. Fighting the Seapony god would be way too complicated a battle for your puny minds to handle right now. You dweebs don’t even know the insane twists I have planned.”

“Plus,” says Steve, “You dorks have been playing since before I got home like three hours ago. Give Erica a break, huh? You can pick this up another day.”

“I don’t need a break, you need a break, old man,” Erica says immediately, but she’s already starting to pack up her notes.

———

With the game mostly packed away, Eddie gets up to stretch; maybe he really is getting old, because he’s suddenly feeling the effects of sitting in a dining room chair for five hours all through his back. He’s gonna just keep blaming the bat venom for any aches and pains, though.

The boys are already busy trying to strategize for the battle ahead, even though Eddie would bet good money that Erica’s listening in and adjusting her own plans based on theirs. He thinks about saying something, but Erica’s earned this, and the little shitheads will never learn to keep their mouths shut if they don’t get burned once in a while. Instead, he wanders into the kitchen to help Steve out with the pizzas.

Steve’s staring thoughtfully into the freezer. “Think four’s enough?”

“Better make it five,” says Eddie. “Six if you got ‘em. I think Will grew another eight inches since yesterday.”

Steve groans. “Okay, but one of them’s going to be mushroom. Maybe if I do that one in the first batch, they’ll be hungry enough not to complain.”

“What are you talking about, Steve, mushrooms are the crowning glory of the forest. They are the simple food of the common man, yet rich and complex enough to adorn the plate of a king.” Eddie hops up to perch on the kitchen counter, narrowly avoiding smacking his head on the cabinets.

“Of course you like mushrooms, freak,” grumbles Steve. He freezes, looking pained. “I didn’t mean—”

Eddie scoots along the counter to kick him lightly. “Yeah, I know, Steve, don’t spin out. Just put the mushroom one in the oven for me and we’ll call it square.”

Steve smiles up at Eddie as he goes to do just that, dropping his hand to Eddie’s knee for a moment.

“I’m—gonna go make sure the kids aren’t murdering each other yet,” says Eddie.

#steddie #(mostly just a bit of implied pining but yk)#the first MLP GURPS snippet has been dominating my notes since I posted it #still don't know where this is going or if it's going anywhere but...here u go #it's fun as heck to write someone figuring out how to DM #sorry to anyone who thought I was going to write about GURPS mechanics because I will not be doing that #but uh if anyone has a copy of the 2e/3e basic set...maybe hmu? my books have long been lost to the ravages of time #fic: what will today's adventure be

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satsuki-yumizuka · 9 months

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Who're your favorite Monogatari girls?

LOOOOOK LOOOOOK SHE IS SO PRETTY NAD BEAUTIFUL AND LOVELY LOOOOK LOOOK HAUUUUUUUUU SHES SOOOOO OCUUUUUUTE SHES PERFECT SHES SO CUTE AND PERFECT AND CUTEEEEE SHES SOOOOOOO PRETTY LOOOOOOOOOOK

#anyways its kiss-shot acerola-orion heart-under-blade #like for sure #i fuckin love nadeko too. she is like me kinda but not really but in a lot of ways i get her. u know #kiss-shot is not really like me at all but she is all of my favorite things in a character #i want to write so and let it be known that every character. every story. she will be in there.#spiritually. maybe even literally.#like. it is just. exactly what i want. from a story id write. u know #i will not be specific bc im pretty sure u and several other followers have not watched kizu #but its so good #i love kiss-shot so much

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bucketwingthoughts · 10 days

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Sorry if this an out of the blue question but do starscream in your aus have fetishes? fantasies?? You know when he humping on megs? 👀👉🏼👈🏼

nsfw warning clearly

Starscream has a lot of fantasies with Megatron that he doesn't share because he doesn't want Megatron to think he's an animal. Starscream is so in love with and obsessed with Megatron (mind, personality but frame type ofc) that any time he is near him he has to calm himself down. Since Starscream doesn't have a heat cycle or anything like that, Megatron often times cannot actually feel what Starscream is thinking so that's good on Starscream's part.

Because Starscream wants Megatron to throw him over the counter and fuck him senselessly, or Starscream wants to ride Megatron so hard Megatron passes out and then Starscream passes out. The fantasies Starscream has of dominating Megatron's spike are actually insane. ESP in my post IDW aus, Starscream has animalistic tendencies since he was revived.

Like Starscream will go to great lengths in his mind to sit on ride that spike like a surfboard.

And then Starscream wants Megatron to get a little rough too like his biggest kink/fantasy is Bomber Megatron coming back to fuck him. Like he wants him to be ROUGH, or his worst kinks are plainly being fucked by all Megatron's at the same time, preferably in his mind tied up.

Then he also wants to see Bomber Megatron fucking current Megatron too???

And he tells Megatron none of this, and he never will.

Also Megatron being like millions of years older than him turns him on.

#megastar #starscream #megatron #transformers #he wants megatron to choke him but then he wants to choke megatron #but he loves his vanilla miner at the end of the day #megatron just goes in his study and reads and writes #and starscream's like 'u know what that's okay i wuv him '#i think maybe - just maybe rodimus does a cortical patch on starscream while he's sleeping just to be funny #and he and megatron are just sitting there with their jaws dropped #megatron is like 'IS THAT ME???'#megatron was like 'okay well some of this is expected'#until he's getting fucked by himself

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stevebabey · 1 year

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Hi hi hi!! Congratulations so much on your milestone! I haven’t been following for very long but you are one of my favorite Steve writers, bar none. Thanks for sharing your writing with the internet 💖

📽 If I may step behind the beaded curtain of Family Video…

Post-battle, one of the many you’ve shared with Steve, and you just want to stop thinking. Thinking hurts, especially when you think about the fact that you almost just lost each other!! Steve is being lovey and sweet and altogether way too nice while you make out so you bite his lip, ruck your hands through his hair, roll your hips a little harder. He lets you flip him underneath you, but it’s still not enough, so you’re pulling at his mouth and fisting his shirt in ur hands and avoiding eye contact bc if you cry that’s it, it’s over, he won’t fuck you like you want it. But of course he notices, and tries to soothe you, “baby baby honey. Please. Shhhh. Talk to me” with kisses on your cheeks and petting at your hair and worry creasing his brow. And godammit if he doesn’t make you talk to him like a healthy adult who processes their feelings 🙄 before eating you out while holding ur hands for comfort. And maybe he doesn’t fuck you like you want it, but definitely how you NEED it. He always knows 🥺

(I’m sorry if that’s too long I just got so excited to share this and talk with you and if it’s not your style I totally understand and congrats regardless!!!!)

anon u came to the RIGHT place for some tender loving sex i am ALL for that shit!!! also hello!!!! i’m so very pleased to have u here!! u make me blush honey, and yes indeed come behind da beaded curtain hehe - also DAMN i do not know how to shut up apparently, i sat down to write this, fixed myself a g&t and clearly went a bit insane <3 hope u love! 18+ content below the cut MDNI

maybe it’s a bit too much of a close call this time, or it’s just that you’ve been here too many times but either way your nerves are frayed tonight— and the solution lies in steve’s arms. there’s something bout the skin-to-skin that soothes one part of you entirely while setting another part aflame- you love him and you nearly lost him tonight and it sets you about with a burning desire, nearly delirious in how his lips feel against yours, how he feels pressed against you when you grind in his lap and clutch at his shirt- you’re tugging at the fabric but don’t even pause your kisses for a moment, just try to tug it up and off. it’s the first sign to steve that tonight is different, that you’re needier than usual. he murmurs his assurances of love, soft and low, “it’s alright, honey,” he mumbles between the heated kisses, “we’re both alright, we made it out,” and he gives what you want, his shirt off and then your own

but he’s being soft, all delicate and caring with you and normally you adore that- the sweet lovebites scattered along your neck that’ll be gone by morning- tonight, instead it feels like you’re treated like glass, like in your mind maybe he’s still preparing to say goodbye in some twisted final way — so you use your hands to press him down, knees straddling his waist and try your best to let the message sink in; if he fucks you rough, it’s like none of the hurt of tonight happened, like the shit you went through didn’t happen at all. hands in his hair, hips rolling down sinfully and pulling groans from his throat, you reattach your mouths and desperation pours from your lips- you don’t want to slow down, to think about what you’ve both barely escaped and agonisingly, steve can tell — his hands grasp your face and halt your kisses but the moment you pause, you won’t look at him, can’t look at him. suddenly you’re embarrassed and steve is all quiet murmurs, “hey, hey, honey, what’s this? what’s going on with my girl?” and his nose nudges against yours, encouraging u to answer and your voice is smaller than ever as you give some pititful excuse, some line that usually riles him up, “just wanna feel you, stevie, just wanna fuck you,” and you grind down on him

steve knows you better than that though and though he hisses, pleasure spiking at the grind you give, he moves his hands to stop your hips- the movement they pause, his hands climb up and cradle your face as his features give away his worry. there’s a terrible furrow in his brown, eyes pooled with concern and he pulls you close, dozens of kisses against your cheeks, your nose, your forehead as he murmurs to you, “honey, please, talk to me,” and you do exactly what you’d been trying to avoid, fat tears welling in your eyes and shit, now you’re crying but it’s like it’s exactly what steve’s expecting — his arms are ready to hold every piece of you together while you cry shakily, whispered fears and confessions of love he’s already heard before and steve listens to it all- his kisses take your tears and when you calm, fear finally taking the back burner in your mind and breathing normal, he’s ready n waiting for you. “d’you want to just sleep?” he checks, lovingly and your shaking your head no quickly; you weren’t lying before, there’s an itch under your skin that can be sated only by his touch. steve doesn’t seem surprised but rolls the both of you over, kissing you with a bit more fervour now that he knows you’re truly alright - then he’s moving down the bed, kisses against your collarbones, down your sternum and when you voice your confusion steve’s raspy voice just says, “shh, it’s alright, lemme take care of my girl, yeah? you gonna let me take care of you?” his rough hands are already teasing the inside of your thighs so you can’t help but sigh out a yes

and he does take good care of you, one hand intertwined with yours as the heat of his mouth works your cunt, drawing whines and whimpers out- you’re clutching his hair and feeling hot in your skin, squeezing his hand as steve whispers his praise to you, “that’s it, so good f’me, doing so well,” until you’re spilling over the edge and quivering beneath his touch- but steve’s not done and he can tell you aren’t from the look in your eye. he’s somehow managed to melt away an extra layer of stress that you only notice in its absence so when he kisses back up your tummy and stretches you nice on his cock, you keen and melt into him, completely unwound— steve’s just as he was in the beginning, soft and sweet, all i love you’s scattered between the moans but you can tell know this is exactly what you need. you’re chest to chest and only trying to get closer, fingernails clawing at his back- you’d crawl into his skin if you could- and steve fucks you through it perfectly and you somehow come apart at how he just knows — he knows you, knows what you need and when to give it to you and that’s a kind of love you don’t think you’ll ever get used to- it’s a flurry of rushed kisses and sweet words, steve urging you with a rasp to cum with him, pleading and whimpering into your neck until you both come undone. you fall asleep in his arms to the ghost of a kiss in your hair

#it's tender loving sex and yet: no one look at me #maybe he doesn’t fuck you like you want it but definitely how you NEED it. He always knows #WHAT A PROMPTTTTT #its true i wanna be fucked like that omg #mdni #this was a delicious thought anon thank u for sharing #ruby writes steve #stevie drabbles!#steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington #steve harrrington x you #ruby's very own tour of hawkins #as emma was the one who first pushed me to write smut now every time i write anything smut related im like EMMA!! LOOK! LOOK I DID IT! AGAIN #hehehe

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