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#as a baseline to see you do care for me. you do think about me. you do want to see me to talk to me to spend time with me
navramanan · 5 months
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yeom mijeong put it into words so well for me. i'm a good person i won't ask to be loved. asking for love implies you're difficult to love because you're a bad person, so you ask for it. being a good person makes you lovable enough to be loved by someone, so a good person doesn't ask to be loved. a good person is just loved, without having to ask or beg for it. i'm a good person, so why should i ask to be loved? i'm a good person, why am i not loved.
#thinking thoughts are being thunk idk#is this something?#i had difficulties interpreting that mantra so i can understand it#and this is how i understand it#i think yeom mijeong might not agree with this but to me this also applies to people who claim to love you but dont make you feel loved#by putting their words into action. by showing they love you by showing they care for you#so the way i see ''i'm a good person i wont ask to be loved''#is i wont ask for your affection i wont ask you to show you care wont ask you to show up for me#am i not good enough of a person for you to do that without me asking for it?#i understand it's a thin line between communicating your needs and not asking to be loved and simplying wanting to be loved#i also believe there's some bare minimum things you should do. especially after i've communicated with you that theyre important to me#as a baseline to see you do care for me. you do think about me. you do want to see me to talk to me to spend time with me#and you acknowledge it. but leave it there. and continue your inaction#and i'm left in a horrible fucking position bc ur important enough for me to not want to cut you off for this reason#i'm left to sit in that position bc i only have very few people i cherish in my life and most of them act this way#if i were to cut them off i'd be left rotting away by my own#which is better. that or to live with a couple people you know love you but dont show you they do so you have this gaping hole inside you#idk this is just me doing a whole lot of yapping#nesi rants#my liberation notes
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psalmsofpsychosis · 7 months
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one thing about me is, i'll always always always value creativity and experimental ideas and stories and new structure-breaking narratives above established "commonly valued" creations, even if the creative idea's execution is less than ideal, even if the established story is "perfect and spotless". Like, i literally dont care, unconventional and paculiar and unexpected works of art are infinitely more valuable to me whether in subpar execution state or in perfect structure. If you did it differently and did it your way your creation will always be more important to me than any predictable and "proper" narrative made in complete and utter obedience of well reinforced explicit and implicit rules. "this is very well made in all the technicalities look at all these clean details—" catch me give a fuck. It's cliche, repetitive, it's boring, i dont care. We live in a time where obedience of known metrics seemingly ranks higher than any form of outside-the-box creativity and i'm done with it. Say something new, say something personal, say something earnest and paculiar and weird or i'm out of this theater.
#in semi continuous of the same notes; if you look up in the dictionary the definition of madness is me asking for feedback on my writing#from people who are knee deep in traditional structures and have not tried a single new imagery in their entire life#like babygirl they wont love you!!!! by definition they're looking at you from a place of dismay because you're going#against their ingrained value; you're undermining the predictable known forms they love so dearly!!!!#there's no way someone like that can offer any kind of coherent and geniune feedback on your work because –hear me out–#THEY DONT FUCKING VALUE WHAT YOU DO#like their baseline attitude is ''i couldn't care less if what you created didn't exist it's irrelevant to me'' THAT'S NOT A PERSON#WHO'S GONNA HELP YOU HONE YOUR CRAFT THEY DONT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOUR CRAFT#''i dont like poetry but–'' ''i dont write in this style but–'' ''i dont read these kinda stuff but–'' the conversation is over.#there's no buts. by the principle of being outside the framework you do not have the level of appreciation expertise and nuance it takes#to offer valuable and applicable feedback and your take may be fun but it's irrelevant ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#also another form of the barely disguised disdain is ''your creation will only be valuable if it's executed to utter perfection'' and no.#everyday i wake up and see mediocre people#celebrating utterly bland and boring mediocre writing like it's the last day of their fucking lives.#i'll not be held to standards of ''perfect performance'' just because you dont have the balls#to say that you dont enjoy and have no appreciation for creativity and experimental efforts#''it needs to be better'' is just a polite way of saying#''i dont love this but i feel bad about it so i'll trick you and myself into thinking i'll love it if it's done faultless''#there's no stage in which an effort in creativity will be faultless to you because the fault#to you#IS the creativity and deviation from the norms.#¯\_(ツ)_/¯#anyway good morning in this house we have absolutely zero value for bland cliche stereotypical generic things 🌸✨️#on art#on writing
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ayyy-pee · 4 months
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Summary: After waiting all this time to have you, Suguru finally gets to taste you in a whole new way.
Pairing: Suguru Geto x Fem Reader
** A sorta Part 2 of Do Not Answer **
Story Warning: Post Partum Sex, LACTATION KINK!!!, Smut, Milk Drinking (Suguru), Mutual Masturbation, Female and Male Masturbation, Profanity because I can only be me, Sprung Suguru, Primal Play/Marking, Creampie, A Sprinkle of Breeding Kink, Fingering, Fingersucking, Sensitive and caring Sugu, Needy Reader and Needy Suguru, Missionary, Cowgirl, Dripping Titties, Got Milk??, Threats of violence sorta, Domestic Suguru
WC: 5.6k
Divider Cred: @hitobaby
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“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Positive?”
“One hundred percent.”
“Baby…”
“Suguru, I promise. I’m sure. I’m ready. Besides, the doctor said we could…” You loop your arms around his neck, watching worry etched across his face slowly begin to fade. “I’ll let you know if I need to stop.”
The deep frown lines between his brows disappear, expression softening as he peers down at you. Since you’d returned from your most recent appointment, Suguru had been on edge, tenser than ever. But that’s been his baseline mood for the last nine months anyway. Though, today was worse than others.
Suguru knew this moment was coming and on a normal day, he’d be looking forward to it. He’d be jumping for joy at the prospect of having you. However, all he can think about is how terrible he’ll feel if he ends up hurting you. He runs one hand gently along your thigh in soothing motions, and he’s not really sure if the act is to ease your mind or his.
You’ve been beaming, going on about doing this from the moment you’d left the doctor’s office, all smiles and eager eyes. Suguru told himself he’d resist, give you more time even as you chirped an excited “I can’t fucking wait!” in the car.
But as Suguru stares down at you, all soft and beautiful lying in bed in your cute little silk nightdress, he knows he’ll give in to you no matter what. He’s weak for you. Always has been. It’s why he couldn’t let you go when he’d left jujutsu society. It’s why he took the risk of trying to win you back.
And it’s easy to give you everything you want and more when you gaze up at him with those pretty eyes of yours. He really should have known from the moment he settled his hips between your legs that all you had to do was ask and he would be yours. It’s always been that way when it comes to you.
Suguru brings his face down to yours, runs the tip of his nose along the bridge of yours and like a reflex, you tilt your chin up to meet him. He watches your eyes flutter closed, lips pursed with anticipation. And just before your mouths collide, he stops.
“Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asks again, slight panic in his voice.
He’s certain he doesn’t sound like himself. He’s full of nerves, voice trembling the closer you get. But you roll your eyes playfully with a giggle and it calms him just a bit. “Suguru, just kiss me,” you whisper against his mouth. 
His lips meet yours hesitantly. His kisses are careful. Tender, like he’s afraid he’ll break you if he devours your lips the way he truly desires.
His hand squeezes your plush thigh and a soft whimper falls from his mouth and into yours. When you moan back into him, the sound sends tingles up his spine, making his legs shake ever so slightly. It’s been some time since you’ve made noises like that, and it does something to him. That, and the combination of your little makeout session currently happening. Suguru is struggling to keep it together. You’ve barely been kissing and he’s trying to resist pressing his hips roughly into yours. He so desperately wants you.
See– Suguru has been waiting months to be able to touch you like this again. To have you like this again. Nine long months actually.
Six weeks ago, you’d given birth to your son, the perfect blend of you and him. 
Your pregnancy had been unexpected and if Suguru’s math was right, he’s pretty sure it happened the night he’d crawled through your dorm window at the school and begged you to leave with him. It’s been almost a year since you’d abandoned all of your beliefs and hopes to fully stand alongside him as a curse user. 
After not being able to touch you for so long, just when he’d finally gotten you back, he found himself right back at square one.
But, the payoff was worth the wait. 
Not long after your defection, you’d come to Suguru in the early hours before he was to meet with the monkeys lined up outside the monastery. Your eyes were rimmed red, evidence of your tears as you stood before him. You looked ill, and you had been for some days. This had Suguru worrying. You’d been having such a hard time coping with the choice you’d made already. 
And it likely didn’t help that Yaga ripped you a new one days after your defection had become clear. Satoru had given you hell via text, promising to end you both if he saw either of you again. 
But Suguru could not have gave less of a fuck about his ex friend’s empty threats. He did, however, care about how much it affected you. It only took a few weeks for your health to decline, for you to be sick and in bed most of the day. Suguru truly believed this to be depression settling in for you. The same had happened for him. He couldn’t help but be concerned.
On the days you felt well enough to be out, you opted to be without him. And because old habits die hard, Suguru had of course had curses following you in the shadows. If you noticed, you didn’t say anything. Which was even more worrisome to him.
Where was the fiery attitude he so loved about you? Where was the woman who gave him absolute hell if he overstepped?You were nowhere to be found.
His mind began eating away at him as he tried to find reasons for your sudden change. Perhaps you had decided to return to the school and  leave him behind again? Maybe you were beginning to regret your choice… Regret him?
Well, that would just be unacceptable. Suguru could not imagine what he would do if this were the case. He’d already risked everything to have you again. To beg you to leave with him and give up all you’d known to join him in his fight. It still took convincing even after you’d joined his cause. Now you may be entertaining the idea of leaving again?
Suguru lost his mind the first time he thought he lost you.
This time, he thinks he would destroy everything and everyone in his path if he lost you again.
Luckily for him, and everyone else, all of his worries melted away when you took his hand in yours, squeezing gently and told him the news. “I know this wasn’t the plan, Suguru. I know we were going to move forward with…” you paused, choosing your words carefully, because you never knew who could be listening. “Celebrating Christmas Eve.”
He knew what you were referring to, of course.
“I don’t care about any of that.” Because he didn’t. Even as his heart roared in his ears, all he could think about was the gift you were giving him; the blessing that was now going to be coming.
A child – His child. With you. The perfect heir to his legacy.
But pregnancy had not been good to you and you spent a good majority of it uncomfortable and sick. And so, Suguru had been reluctant to initiate intimacy with you. Not because he didn’t find you attractive anymore. It was truly the opposite. In fact, Suguru found you so incredibly enticing during your pregnancy that he was afraid he’d hurt you if you became intimate. He feared he would not be able to fight his urges to fuck you through the bed if he had you.
Seeing you all round and soft? It had his dick aching. He found himself showering three, sometimes four times a day, fisting his cock as he imagined all the ways he wanted to have you. It was embarrassing, the way his body reacted to the simple sight of you. So, he had to find some sort of outlet. You were already struggling so much with your pregnancy. He couldn’t add onto that, be the reason you had more discomfort than you were already dealing with.
Now, you’re six months postpartum and you’ve been an absolute angel. You’re glowing, the epitome of beauty, ethereal almost. Motherhood has only made Suguru fall even more in love with you. 
The doctor has finally given you the green light to be intimate again. Though, with a warning to be careful as the risk of becoming pregnant again is incredibly high right now. Somehow, the thought makes Suguru even harder if possible. Some sick part of him wants to bury himself as deep as possible. Breed you again and again. Pump you full of his seed and have you round with him as many times as he can. 
A tiny groan escapes Suguru as he deepens the kiss, lips slotting sloppily against yours. Every moan he pulls from you is making it more and more difficult for him to resist pressing his hips against yours, strip you of this flimsy little fabric and make love to you until you can only think of him. The same way he only thinks of you. His hand glides up your smooth thigh, slipping beneath your gown and up to your waist. 
He finally breaks the kiss, and the gentleness does not make a bit of difference because you’re both left gasping for air between each other. Suguru’s eyes roam down your body ravenously, every new dip and curve gifted to you by your newfound motherhood so goddamn enticing. Even moreso, when he feels it…or doesn’t feel it, rather.
“You’re not wearing panties,” he mumbles, more as an observation than a question. He pulls his hand from beneath your dress to glide over the smooth material of your silky gown along your stomach, up to the valley of your breasts.
You shake your head, a cheeky grin spreading along your face. “Didn’t think I’d need them.”
Suguru hums, hooking a finger into the cup of your gown and tugging down. He watches with heated desire as your supple breast falls free from its confines. So round and full. He can’t help but run his tongue along his lips.
“Did you pump before bed?” He asks. He cups your breast gently in his palm, biting down on his bottom lip when you sigh a soft no, followed by a quiet gasp. Suguru clicks his tongue, delicately squeezing the tender flesh and honing in on the small pearlescent bead of liquid that forms at the tip of your pert nipple. His heated gaze watches as your eyes fall shut, back arching as you press your breast further into his touch.
Suguru has watched you pump many times. Watched you breastfeed and has always wondered about this–what it tastes like. It’s not as though he’s picky when it comes to ingesting things. He’s a curse eater, after all. He’s sure your breast milk tastes heavenly. Everything he’s tasted from you has never been anything but delectable. But this…this is new. This is something he’s never had from you. But he will soon.
He must have every part of you.
“You okay?” Suguru asks, gaze locked on the warm liquid cascading down your breast. He meets your gaze and because you know him so well, you nod almost immediately. He dips down to wrap his lips around your hardened bud, pulling another sigh from you, a little louder this time. 
The rush of liquid filling his mouth surprises him at first, only for a second. Then he takes his time to taste you. Your milk is rich. Sweet. Buttery. But there’s an aftertaste there that’s so incredibly intoxicating, it has Suguru’s eyes rolling straight to the back of his head. It shocks him, the way this taste travels straight to his cock, and has him painfully erect to the point that he lets out a garbled moan against your breast. 
It only takes him a few seconds, after more than a decade of knowing you, training with you, fighting beside you that he realizes this taste is your cursed energy. And it has his dick is pulsing between his legs.
‘How delightful’, he thinks. To fully have you like this. To be able to literally taste the essence of your being. To consume what makes you superior to all others in this world. 
What makes you powerful. 
What makes you a sorcerer.
The thought alone makes him want to fucking cum in his pants right this second.
But he can’t. He needs to reel it in. At least, long enough to please you. He takes a deep breath, swallows what’s in his mouth. And just in time, because you roll your hips up into his and he has to pull back with a quiet hiss. The heat of your core meeting his clothed erection has his legs quivering already. It’s pathetic. 
He peers down at you, strands of hair stuck messily to his wet cheeks. Under the soft moonlight peeking in through your bedroom windows, he can just make out the way your chest heaves with shaky breaths, the slight parting of your lips as you stare lustfully up at him. His gaze trails down to your other breast, now soaking through your gown, your milk having leaked while he was giving all his attention to your other breast.
“I’m sorry, my love,” Suguru whispers sweetly, hooking his finger into the other cup and pulling it down. “I spent so much time on one, I forgot the other.”
His hand cups your soaked breast, a thumb brushing gently over your erect nipple and you gasp again.
“Sugu…” you whine, hands coming up to grab hold of his shoulders.
“You okay?”
“Mhmm,” is all you can manage, eyes fluttering closed as he tweaks your nipple between his thumb and index finger. “Sensitive.”
Suguru hums, slowly brushing his thumb over your nipple again, groaning when he elicits the same reaction from you.
‘So responsive’, he thinks. You’ve always been, but it seems you’re increasingly so today.
When Suguru slides his wet tongue over your nipple just before taking the peak into his mouth, you squeeze down on his shoulders, a choked sob falling from your lips.
“Oh, I love that sound you make,” Suguru breathes against your breast. He drinks greedily from you, savoring every little tingle the taste of your cursed energy sends up his spine, every little mewl you let out. He’s sure his skin is covered with goosebumps.
This must feel like sweet relief for you. Your body melts into his as he mouths at you, slurps you up, devours you and all you have to offer. 
You’re delicious.
And Suguru means that literally.
When your hands tangle in his hair and pull him up from your nipple with a loud pop, it’s only then that he realizes he’s been so focused on your breasts that he damn near forgot about you.
Panting, he stares down at you. He’s certain he looks all kinds of disheveled – lips swollen and glistening, chin dripping, eyes glazed over.
And you, you only stare back at him lovingly – eyes full of arousal, hungry and wanting, lip swollen from biting down on it in attempts to stifle your moans. You bring a hand up to his face, cupping his cheek gently. You swipe your thumb along his chin, collecting whatever liquid resides there. It’s sweet, cute that you’re wanting to clean him up. But then you press your thumb to his lips, your mouth falling open as you slide the digit past the threshold until you reach his tongue. You peer up at him expectantly. So Suguru wraps his lips around your thumb and greedily sucks the remaining drops of your milk from your thumb.
Your other hand wraps around him, fingers delicately tracing a line up and down his back and Suguru releases a muffled groan. 
“I want you,” you whisper and you grind your hips into his again. He can feel your arousal through the fabric of his boxers. He can’t even stop his own hips from rutting desperately into yours and you whine softly, “Please.”
He can hear the desire in your voice. It shoots straight to his dick and the throb that follows has Suguru wincing.
There you are. There’s his girl. So fucking needy for him like you’ve always been. He loves it when you get like this. And it’s been so long since you’ve begged for him that he has to resist yanking his pants down and sliding right into your dripping cunt.
He’s so hard for you, wants to fuck you until you can’t stand. But he has to remember, you may not be ready for that. He needs to be careful with you, take his time so as to not hurt you.
“You sure?” He asks, just one more time. For his own peace of mind.
You fix him with a deadpan look, much like the one you gave him the night he’d climbed through your window and threatened to splatter your little boyfriend’s insides along the streets of Tokyo.
“Okay,” he acquiesces, a small smirk playing on his lips. He loves your little attitude.
He’ll take his time with you, let you get used to this again because god knows he’s gonna need a second or else he’ll be losing himself to you in no time. He dips his head down, lips finding your neck and pressing soft kisses before he lightly sucks at your skin, making quick work of leaving a mark.
In the morning, when you’re getting ready for the day, he knows he’ll receive your wrath and it will have been worth it. Suguru loves to mark you up, though it pisses you off. He only cares that it signifies to everyone that lays eyes on you that you belong to him and him alone.
His possessiveness takes over, makes him bite down on the already tender spot on your neck and you cry out, which only makes Suguru moan against you.
“Sorry,” he mutters as he nuzzles against your throat, nipping and sucking lightly as he goes.
“More,” you whimper, and your fingers trace down his bare chest, along his abdomen until they reach the waistband of his boxers. You slip your hand inside, finding his cock with ease and wrapping your hand around him.
The sensation makes Suguru buck into your fist, a weak cry falling from his lips as he thrusts himself into your hand.
“Baby…” he whines into your neck. “Fuck, wait–”
But you don’t listen. You pump his cock, matching his rhythm as you throw your head back with a soft moan.
Suguru slips a hand between the two of you, cupping your pussy and groaning when he feels how soaked you are. It’s probably for the best that you ditched your panties tonight. He runs a finger through your folds, finding your clit and massaging circles around the sensitive nub teasingly.
You’re writhing beneath him, keening quietly into the air as you stroke his cock and let Suguru mark your skin as he pleases. He’s moved onto your chest now, lips back on your nipples and he suckles any drop of milk he can get from you.
The sounds coming from you are driving him insane. The sounds coming from him are almost foreign. He’s never heard himself sound like this before, so desperate, so needing, so fucking in love with you. He wants more, wants to hear more, wants to feel more.
He breaks free of your breasts and crushes his lips against yours. When you gasp in surprise, he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth while simultaneously slipping a finger easily inside of you. Your movements pause, a sharp intake of breath making Suguru pull back.
“You okay?” He asks, panic clear in his voice. “We can stop.”
You shake your head quickly. “No! No, I’m fine. It’s just…” You begin pumping him again, smirking when you see the way Suguru’s jaw clenches, how his hips stutter slightly. “It’s been awhile. Keep going.”
Suguru is a little hesitant. This is exactly what he was worried about. He knew you weren’t ready. He should stop –
His thoughts are interrupted when you squeeze the head of his cock, his precum adding enough lubrication to make the sensation dizzying for him. He has to catch himself on his free arm.
“Goddamn,” he grits, pulling his finger back just slightly before burying it knuckle deep inside you again. “Fuuuucking stroke my cock.”
You have your fist tightly wrapped around his length, twisting and pumping him just the way he likes. Like you haven’t missed a beat. You gaze up at him, all flushed cheeks and eyes glazed over in bliss as Suguru slips one more finger into you.
“Like this?” You ask innocently and Suguru leans down to press a wet, sloppy kiss to your lips.
“Just like that,” he pants against your lips. “You’re s– ah – so good at that. Good fucking girl, ” he praises.
It goes on like this for some time, you and Suguru getting each other off. He feels as though his nerves are on fire, skin prickling as the pleasure begins to take over. He wants to cum so fucking bad. Wants to coat your little hand in his load and have you use it to keep jacking him off. But nothing is getting him off more than the idea of being inside of you right now. Though, he knows he’ll have to take it slow.
“I need to fuck you now,” he grunts roughly. “Need you so bad.”
He pulls his fingers from your core, chucking low when you whine at the loss. He reaches down to his waistband and you let go of him as he pushes his boxers down, working them off until he can kick them across the floor.
“You ready for me?” He asks, kissing you messily again. He settles between your legs, brows knitting when your bare cores finally meet. It’s so hot. Literally, he can feel the heat radiating from your pussy and the anticipation of your answer is killing him. You’re already drenched, coating him with your slick arousal. He wants to be inside of you. Please don’t deny him.
“I’m ready, baby.” You reach down between your bodies and take him in your hand again, position his tip at your entrance. “Please fuck me.”
He nods. Your eyes are locked as Suguru eases forward. It’s a tight fit, and Suguru doesn’t know if he’ll even be able to get all the way in without blowing his load.
“Oh god,” he groans. “Fucking tight as shit, baby. Fuck.”
He keeps going, pushing in and parting your walls with difficulty even though your core drips for him. It's as if you've gotten even tighter since giving birth. Suguru has to pull back slightly several times and try again before he’s all the way in. He has his eyes squeezed shut, fists clenching the sheets tightly. 
You whimper beneath him, hands having now found Suguru’s biceps and gripping on for dear life. It’s a slow, delicious, painfully snug journey through your walls. And when he finally bottoms out, he takes time to look at you. You’re biting your lip, breaths coming rapidly as you grasp onto him.
You’re so fucking beautiful like this.
He's embarrassingly hard. He wonders if you can feel it. He thinks you can, from the way you squirm beneath him.
“Good?” He asks, checking in again and you roll your eyes.
“Yes. Now fuck me.”
Suguru rears his hips back, watching as your lips part with a quiet gasp just before he rolls his hips forward. He does it again, just so he can hear you make that sound one more time. Then he does it again and again.
His movements are slow, careful. He gives you soft and languid thrusts that have you digging your nails into his arms, has him gritting his teeth so he doesn’t cum. He can hear and feel how absolutely wet you are with each agonizingly slow thrust. 
It’s driving him insane to be so gentle. He wants to fuck you so bad, destroy your little pussy, bury himself so deeply inside of you he can’t fucking see straight.
And it’s like you know this, because you whisper his name. When he looks at you, you’ve got a cute little pout on your lips, glaring up at him. He tilts his head questioningly.
“Suguru, stop treating me like you're gonna break me…” You loop an arm around his neck, pulling him down into a rough, sloppy kiss before pulling back just slightly to tell him, “...fuck me like you mean it.”
And he does. Doesn’t need you to ask twice. With a deep groan, Suguru pulls his hips back, all the way until just his tip sits inside of you. Then he thrusts forward, plunging into you over and over.
Each snap of Suguru’s hips brings a new sound from you. It’s music to his ears – this mix of your mewls, his grunts and moans, his balls slapping against your sopping cunt. He’s losing himself in you, the way he always does, swallowed by your warmth.
“Ah…I- I’ve been waiting so long for this, beautiful. Been craving this - ngh - pussy for months,” Suguru rasps, dipping his head down to find your breasts. He can already see the bruises forming along your skin from where he marked you earlier and it has him choking out a soft sob. He pounds into you hard, fast, chasing his high as he watches your breasts bounce with each thrust. “Missed your pretty little cunt. Missed fucking you so bad, baby.”
He licks a long strip between the valley of your breasts, eyes rolling to the back of his head and hips stuttering when he tastes the remnants of your breast milk from earlier. 
“Yeah, babe?” You ask, pressing your hands against his chest.
You move your hips against his, meeting every thrust eagerly and Suguru inhales sharply. “Fuck yeah,” he murmurs, kissing his way up to your lips. Just before he meets your mouth, you push against him and shift your weight, effectively rolling you both over so that you’re not straddling Suguru. His hands find your waist immediately.
“I missed you. So fucking much. Couldn’t wait to have you again,” you sigh as you lean down to kiss your lover. Your hips begin to move, grinding yourself down on Suguru. His back arches, the feeling of him tapping against that spongey in your walls completely overwhelming him.
“Shit.” Suguru watches you move your hips against him, feels his dick twitch within your walls at the sight. “Feel good, baby?” He asks. Because it damn sure feels good to him. Suguru thinks he may lose his mind just watching. You sit up and his eyes follow you, watching the way your kiss swollen lips part as you let out another moan when he thrusts up into you.
You can’t do anything but nod your head, your hands falling to Suguru’s chest to keep your balance as you bounce on his cock. His gaze drinks in all the dips and curves of your body until they find where you two connect. He watches as you roll your hips forward, as his cock disappears into your pussy over and over. A quiet moan rushes past your lips and Suguru’s hands find your ass while you grind down on him. You’re so wet, he can feel your arousal dripping down his cock, drenching his balls.
“Oh my god, Suguru,” you cry out quietly, halting your movements to lean down and crash your lips into his again. “Feels good, feels so fucking good,” you gasp between kisses. Suguru pushes against your ass, prompting you to keep going.
“Don’t stop, baby. Fuck me like you mean it,” he repeats your earlier words, a sly grin on his lips when he smacks your ass, making you yelp.
You sit up, lifting your hips all the way up until just the tip of his cock sits inside you. Suguru’s eyes are glued to the view and he can visibly see himself pulsing between your legs. He lets out a low hiss that quickly turns into a loud groan when you slam your hips back down on him.
“Shhhh,” you shush him. “Gonna wake up the whole compound.”
He grips your ass tighter. “I don’t give a fuck. Let them hear us.” He gives you a particularly harsh thrust that has you keening loudly. He thrusts again and you let out another sharp cry. “Want them to hear me fucking the mother of my child, fucking my whole heart tonight.”
The air is filled only with the sounds of the wet slap of your hips meeting, your soft gasps and moans, the bed creaking with every hard thrust he gives you. Suguru’s eyes roll back, each pump of his cock in your pretty little cunt bringing him closer and closer to the edge. Your walls are so tight, so wet, so hot, squeezing the life out of him. 
“Tell me you love me. Tell me you love my cock, baby. Tell me you missed fucking me as much as I missed fucking you.”
Your nails dig into his chest as you cry out his name, tell him all about how you craved his dick, wanted him so badly it drove you crazy some days. The feeling of his tip pressing against your most sensitive area with each pump lighting a fire in both your cores.
“Fuck, baby,” Suguru gasps, voice hoarse with arousal as he stares up at you with nothing but love in his gaze. “So sexy. Look at you. Riding my cock so good – fuck.”
“Suguru,” You gasp as he holds your hips, keeping you in place as he fucks up into you pace increasing. “I’m…I’m gonna cum, Suguru. Fuck. I’m gonna cum.”
“Cum on my dick, baby. I wanna feel it. I need to feel it,” he grunts, driving into you. He feels his balls tighten, his release approaching quickly. He tries to stave it off, but then he feels it. Feels warm droplets of liquid hitting his chest and his stomach. He follows the trail, eyes landing on your breasts and the droplets falling from your pert nipples and onto him.
The sight is so erotic, so goddamn sexy, it sends chills racing up Suguru’s spine. You, taking his dick so fucking well, your breasts coating him in your essence, the very essence he got the luxury to taste early and god, did it taste incredible. Your mouth slack and eyes pinched shut as you dissolve into pleasure on top of him.
One more drop hitting his skin.
Your walls squeezing him for all his worth.
Your mouth crying his name.
It’s enough for him to shatter beneath you, enough to trigger that first rope of cum shooting from his cock. 
“Shit, oh– oh fuck, baby, I’m cumming,” Suguru sputters, holding your hips painfully tight and with one last powerful thrust, he shoves himself as far as he can go before emptying himself inside of you. His muscles tense, breathe hitching as he rides out the shockwaves of his release. Every pulse of his cock is met with your walls sucking him back in, milking every drop from him.
He thinks he’s seeing fucking stars, the muffled sound of your moans drowned out by the pure euphoria he’s experiencing right now. He doesn’t even notice that excess of cum that leaks from your core and onto his groin. He feels that damn good.
Suguru’s head falls back on the bed and his grip on you loosens, leaving you to lay your weight down on him. Both your breaths come rapidly, your matching heartbeats racing against each other’s chests. And this is Suguru’s favorite part of it all. He loves this, loves the feeling of you pressed into him, loves the feeling of you completing him. 
His eyes drift shut, his fingers tracing a line up and down your spine. And for the first time in almost a year, he lets himself fully relax.
- - - - - - -
The warm beams of the early morning sun peek through the bedroom. Suguru shifts, turning onto his side to get more comfortable.
Until he realizes something is missing. His eyes shoot open and he sits up quickly in the bed, eyes roaming the room for you. When he finds no trace of you in the room, he decides it’s time for him to get up, too.
You’re likely up with the baby and he wants to help you with his morning routine.
He makes his way across the room to your master bathroom and when he opens the door, he’s met with a cloud of hot steam and the sight of you naked in front of the mirror. You’re scowling, craning your head to the side like you’re looking at something.
He sees it the moment your hand reaches up and touches your neck and your chest. You’re riddled with hickeys and bruises, marks covering almost your entire upper body. Your eyes meet his in the mirror, a murderous glare staring at him in your reflection.
And it’s not like Suguru is particularly sorry. He wants you to be all marked up and claimed so everyone knows you’re his. But that look in your eye tells him he really may be in danger here.
Luckily for him, the shrill cry of his son pierces through the tension. So he shoots you a smug grin and backs right out the door.
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ALRIGHT, *cracks knuckles* let's get into that teaser, shall we?
Should I itemize this? I think I'm going to itemize it lmao.
So:
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Starting here because this is a baseline for Stede, he's got no neckerchief here. This is likely early in the season, probably the very start.
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Man's got a fuckin' ARM.
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This is Ed. You can see the bare right arm in both shots.
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Red neckerchief. Ed's scrap of silk? Beat to shit if it is, which, he did toss it out to sea so, it would be.
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Ed's not wearing the knee brace. Or gloves for that matter. I know the knee brace being an actual mobility aid is unconfirmed canon/fanon but it does make me :(c to see him without it. Either it wasn't actually considered as a mobility aid or he's lost it like he's lost his gloves OR he's going without it because he doesn't care if it hurts.
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Closer shot of the neckerchief.
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I just wanted to point out all the knives stabbed into the table. Also, those look like bits of paper on the windows, did they keep some of the books to repurpose for window blocking purposes?
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THERE HE IS!!!!!!!! Other people have already pointed out the makeup and his ring still on his tie, along with the whip on his hip cjizzy real. He's got a new baldric but I also think his clothes look. Darker? Than in season 1? This is a darker/heavier contrast setting but it carries into other shots of him too I think? Like they're less sun/saltwater faded or something?
Other thing to note: If I have my orientation right, this is to the right of Stede's bed nook and to the left of the library, which means this shelf is the one with the auxiliary wardrobe opening mechanism. Which I bring up because:
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This little guy seems to be in the place of the mannequin. Ed kept the auxiliary wardrobe and gothed up the mannequin to justify it still being there.
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SO much here. This is, I'm fairly certain, Benjamin Hornigold. This camp he's set up (along with what he's wearing) looks like it was made out of a shipwreck. Ed's barefoot and missing his jacket and gloves, and his shirt's torn up at the sleeves. Definitely where he washed up from his dip in the ocean.
Note the trees and the lighting, that comes up later. Ed shoots here and Ben moves with the shot but it doesn't look like he was actually HIT by it to my eyes.
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'Wanted. |Blackbeard| Villainous Pirate. Murderer, thrice over. $400 Reward for the criminal responsible for: theft - brigandry - larceny - arson - tax evasion ➡' Presumably there are more crimes/info on the back, though we see the reverse side in the next cut and it's either blank or all in very small text, I couldn't quite tell.
The poster to the right says 'Port' something which has me wondering Port Royal but that's just the only 'Port' something I know, could def be somewhere else.
(Also, just for fun:
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Here's how much abouts Ed's capture would be worth now.)
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Wider pic than it needs to be but I didn't wanna cut out Olu lol. ANYWAY. Neckerchief again. Also the back of the poster, see what I mean about it either being blank or very tiny?
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Babygirl. . . But also that Bride Ed figure kinda slays. Little bralette with the midriff showing, I see you Babygirl. When will he be allowed to just rest and do silly little crafts WITHOUT heartbreak looming over him?
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Well. Four is not nine. So. There's that. The other five could be used or out of frame though, of course.
OH. He's back to his fingerless gloves! They might actually be different from his original ones though, they look different at the wrist to me, not quite sure though.
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The BOYS!!!! Frenchie looks like he's having a GREAT time. Considering he suggested they turn the hostage into a table and complained about the Republic of Pirates being a bit gentrified I'd say this is more in line with what he's used to in piracy. I 100% buy he was going along with Stede's way because he knew it was an easy ride compared to real piracy. This wouldn't necessarily be a return to form for him but definitely something he's more used to? And he gets to be kitty :3c
And FANG!!! Look at him showing a bit more skin!! Good for him!!
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Everybody say 'Thank You David Jenkins'. Right now. Look at this Mad Max shit. Fuckin' Imperator Jimenez right there. LOVE that tye added the 'beard' after the 'fuck's wrong with your face?' bit in 1x10. Full 'it looked weird on you but I slay' energy.
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Jim
Izzy
Fang
Near as I can tell at least. I can't make out if Frenchie is in the shot and I'm pretty positive Ed isn't cause he stayed by the cake when they charged in.
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Man, yknow I know we were all kinda clowning on it a bit at the end of 1x10 but this look really is so JARRING. Like, in the dark it's menacing but in the light? It's unhinged and that reads as more dangerous imo.
Also just for comparison's sake the pre-Ed-ified version of the bride figure. He really did full on customize that thing lol.
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I DON'T THINK ANNE KISSED STEDE HERE. It feels out of character of the show to pull the 'It's fine if a woman does it to a man' kind of thing with regard to unwanted kissing. This is the frame the scene starts on in the trailer. She's leaning back from him and isn't nearly close enough to his mouth to say for certain that's where she was coming from. My money is on her leaning in to whisper something into his ear, maybe under the guise of it being an advance/intended kiss, which would also explain the annoyed look when she's interrupted. She either got ACTUALLY interrupted or it's part of the act. Stede doesn't look nearly as uncomfortable as he would be if she'd kissed him or tried to, he looks confused.
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Izzy going for his sword when this guy tries to get the drop on Stede. He either is starting to care or he knows how much Ed needs him alive.
Also, this is the other potential source of Stede's neckerchief. Mr, Knife right here has a red one and Stede doesn't have it in this scene. I do think this one is a little less distressed than the one Stede has though so it could just be coincidence.
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See? No neckerchief. He DOES have a sword at his hip tho! So this, I think, is after Izzy's started training him.
Also, he actually looks really good in red lol.
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Baby. He's definitely missing the ring in this shot. It sits higher than the baldric is covering. I want to give him a little kissie on his ouchie and then let him have a nap, he needs that.
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The pants match the coat. Also, black shirt. Stede is kinda slaying ngl.
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Still missing her head :(c. Isn't that bad luck?
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Maybe yall didn't hear me properly with the Jim pic. I'll repeat:
EVERYBODY SAY 'THANK YOU DAVID JENKINS'.
I can't get over how Stede's just standing there politely with his arms behind his back lmfao.
Also, Izzy's got his right leg up, he's putting his weight on his left. . . 'foot'.
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I SAID EVERYBODY SAY-
I know tits and all but also. The belly. I would like to. Bite.
*ahem*
ANYWAY. On the left (our left) side of the barrel you can see the tip of his right boot so he's def got that leg off the ground. Perhaps someone is trying to relearn their footwork? Now that they've got a different balance than they're used to? And perhaps a difference in sensory input in the leg he's standing on? Possibly?
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This is the same beach Ed was on when he did the fuckin' RAD takedown of the other officer but it definitely looks like different times of day. Having both in the teaser is def meant to be a red herring. He doesn't have the neckerchief in this shot either.
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Bra för honom. (Is how google translate tells me you say 'Good for him' in Swedish.)
Is Jackie's hair the same here as it is in the VF pic with Ed? Or like, similar enough to be a 'later in the day after some Fun™ messing it up a bit'?
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Roach!!! Fully sleeveless now, added a belt, got some flowers tied to the strings/straps of his apron. Looks like he's having fun lighting that cannon lol. Pretty sure this is the same scene as that one leaked photo of him dancing with Fang and Izzy's green screen sock. He had the flowers in that, right?
[Ran out of allowed images, please hold]
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I've seen a lot of people comparing Huskerdust to a healthy version of Stolitz and it's kinda got me thinking... Staticmoth as the evil fucked up version of Fizzmodeus.
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THINK ABOUT IT!!!!! The parallels between Val and Ozzie are obvious. Like that man wants to be Ozzie so bad it's insane, from the way he dresses to the way he decorates to straight up OWNING A ROBO FIZZ, Val clearly wishes he was the embodiment of Lust. But are there parallels between Vox and Fizz? Actually, surprisingly yeah. They're both showmen, like aggressively so. They're very public figures, with their face all over every product in Hell(albeit Vox is doing it a lot more purposefully then Fizz). Fizz's antagonism towards Blitzø is actually pretty reminiscent of Vox's towards Alastor(except Fizz and Blitzø have a lot more baggage lmao), and they even share some aesthetic similarities! Specifically the colors of Fizz's robotic limbs matching Vox's overall color scheme. Which speaking of robots, that's probably their biggest similarity overall: they're both partially made of technology. I hesitate to say cyborg because Idk how much that applies to Vox, since object heads aren't typically classified as cyborgs as far as I know, and we don't actually know how much of Vox is organic(also cyborg is just one of those words I have an inexplicable dislike of Idk-), but like. Think cyborg I guess. Like Vox is a LOT more of a dick and probably doesn't have a very tragic backstory? Maybe? Unclear. But the similarities are undeniable.
Okay, now that individual parallels are out of the way, how could their relationship to eachother parallel Fizzmodeus? Starting with baseline aesthetics: they got the height difference. It's not as dramatic as Fizz and Ozzie's but TO BE FAIR, Huskerdust are the same way(their height difference is obvious, but not as massive as Blitzø and Stolas'). Staticmoth is also very buisness-partners-with-benefits and some hints at deeper feelings, which is how we were introduced to Fizzmodeus. I don't think Val and Vox feel the need to hide their romantic feelings? But tbh it could go either way we haven't seen much of their dynamic yet. That's kinda where the similarities I could spot find because see previous sentence, so let's move onto the differences!
I think a good way to breakdown what makes Staticmoth toxic Fizzmodeus is actually by bringing Alastor and Blitzø back in to compare and contrast how Val handles Vox's rivalry with how Ozzie handles Fizz's. In Radio Killed the Video Star, the only reason Val tells Vox that Alastor is at the hotel is to piss him off. He clearly enjoys Vox's reaction, and keeps egging him on. Teasing him about it. Which like, friendly teasing between partners is well and good, but Val is clearly just doing it cause he wants to see a fight and doesn't care about how distressed Vox is about this. Vox goes off on his own and sings a fuckin banger, gets publically humiliated, causes a massive blackout. Val doesn't really do shit to help him out, just kinda sits there and. Idk watches? Unclear what the other Vees are actually doing because most of Stayed Gone takes place in funny TV land where Vox is capable of bending reality to his whim for the sake of visual interest. But what Val is actively doing during the musical number isn't important so who cares. What's important is that he egged Vox on, convinced him that confronting Alastor right then was a good idea, and then just sat back as Vox got so pissed off he had a meltdown. Which I SWEAR I'm not trying to dramatize this scene it just sounds really fucking bad when you write it all down from this perspective. I think it's also worth noting that all of this is DIRECTLY AFTER Vox did the exact opposite for Val, calming him down so he doesn't make a fool of himself in public.
Meanwhile compare that to how Ozzie handles Fizz and Blitzø's relationship. During House of Asmodeus, once Fizz realizes Blitzø is there, he starts publically roasting him about how shitty his love life is. Ozzie encourages him, and even gives him a little congratualtions in the background when Verosika joins in for changing the subject, but the difference here is that House of Asmodeus takes place in a much more controlled environment, so it's less likely either of them will have to face consequences for being assholes. There's also how Ozzie's encouragement is just a lot more genuine. Like "yeah babe, go insult that guy who traumatized and abandoned you whoo!" rather then "hey hey look there's that guy you hate. You should go fight with him lmao show him who's boss." Then there's the ending. At the end of both Stayed Gone and House of Asmodeus, Vox and Fizz eat shit and die. Don't worry they're both fine like immediately after, but while in House of Asmodeus Ozzie immediately rushes over to Fizz to make sure okay, we uh. Do not see Vox interact with anybody but Alastor in the direct aftermath of his eating shit and dying, which is fair because he's in his weird little gamer cave. Then we skip straight to the Vees having a meeting to decide what they're gonna do about Alastor, and we don't really know what any of them were doing in the interim between the end of Stayed Gone and the meeting, so uh this part of the comparison kinda falls flat. But again something worth noting is that Val just straight up. Does not care about Alastor during the meeting scene. He's sitting there bedazzling his fucking gun BY HAND with school glue and rhinestones, not even paying attention to the meeting, despite being the one to get Vox all riled up about Alastor IN THE FIRST PLACE.
In short: Val encourages Vox to fight Alastor without thinking it through, doesn't bother to help out during the actual fight, and then immediately stops caring the moment the fights over. Meanwhile Ozzie, while encouraging Fizz to pick on Blitzø, backs him up the whole time, and while still supportive of his boyfriend, doesn't actively encourage Fizz to do things that would get him hurt. Ozzie also supports Fizz by refusing to let Blitzø have an Asmodean crystal because he knows Fizz wouldn't like it! Which is the exact opposite of pissing your partner off on purpose so you can watch a fight!!! And if that isn't enough evidence for you, then uh. I guess you could compare how Val treats... just everybody around him, really, with how Ozzie does(but that's more individual character analysis than relationship analysis). Or you could talk about how fed up with Val's shit Vox clearly is in comparison to the mutual support of Fizzmodeus. Or how. Val throws a glass at Vox. And breaks his phone. And then Vox has to scream in his face to get him to listen-
Idk how to end this so uh. DEMON ATTACK RAH!!! 👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹
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unbidden-yidden · 7 months
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You know when this all started coming to light, I fully expected that leftists would try to downplay the horrific violence by acknowledging that it was "bad and our hearts go out to the victims and their families, but......" or by making a sharp distinction between civilians and soldiers (or even like, minors and adults), but the thing that's fucked me up is that nope! We sailed right past any attempt to even pretend at human decency and cut straight to "they deserved it."
Even the kids?? Yep, even the kids.
Like Jesus H. Christ y'all.
I'm used to people feeling like they need to at least gesture vaguely in the direction of giving a shit about Jewish lives and not justifying actual terror tactics and war crimes on civilians (you'd think for consistency's sake they might care about looking like they care for the credibility but..) even if we both know they really don't actually care about antisemitism in a meaningful way. We both know that they won't be there when it actually counts, and they sure as fuck aren't going to interrogate their own personal or group's antisemitism. But usually there's a fig leaf. There's at least a baseline assumption that they should care about antisemitism and Jewish people staying alive, even if they don't actually, so they'll say the minimum amount of correct sounding words and then quickly skedaddle onto whatever it is they actually care about.
And like, is that good? No, it's not. It's not good enough. I'm sick and fucking tired of people doing juuuuuust enough to pretend to care without ever addressing the real underlying issues.
But this? This totally floored me. This drops that baseline assumption that antisemitism and murdered Jews is a bad thing entirely and blatantly sides with literal actual terrorists committing unspeakable horrors while holding it up as "liberation."
And what's worse? Most of those were the further out fringe types (although there were a horrifying amount more than I expected) right? Most everyone else wasn't spouting off about how happy they were that vive la révolucion, right? You know what was really deafening?
The silence from everyone else.
Literally everyone except for maybe one or two gentiles I remember seeing kept their mouths shut. Everyone else? Not a goddamn word about how fucked up it was that people were crowing over our people's fresh corpses. The bodies hadn't even cooled yet and we had jackasses on here publicly celebrating with memes and gore videos, and not a word from 99.9% of you.
The people who did speak up? You have no idea how much it means, and I'm grateful. Truly.
Everyone else who was too gutless, spineless, or oblivious to realize how critical a moment this was for support and/or was more interested in protecting your image or whatever?
Let's just say: duly noted.
I may continue to work alongside you (what choice do I have?) but the trust is gone.
We're clearly on our own, with rare exception.
(This is a vent post I will not be adding any caveats to it and I will be blocking anyone who tries to be an asshole. I will lock reblogs if there's any discourse. Our lives are not up for debate you sick fucks.)
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m-ayo-o · 5 months
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18+ SMUT NSFW / 21+ megumi - sex after separation: limited prep, pulling out. (reupload ~ got comm guidelines on this of all the things i've put here lol)
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He's been away on the longest mission. You curse his blindfolded senior for taking your man away from you.
But now he's home, you couldn't be more glad to get in the shower with him, cook a wholesome meal and tend to his minor injuries. You stay awake a little too late, just mesmerised by him finally lying next to you again. He's too exhausted to tell you to stop staring, so he just closes his pretty eyes and has the longest, most rejuvenating sleep he's had in weeks.
And after he stirs awake before you, stepping to and from the bathroom, your eyes peek open just in time to see him trudge back to bed.
And you stare, watching him re-enter the room with the most astounding morning wood (which bounces when he walks- he sleeps naked).
You open and close your mouth as you struggle for words. Your first thought was to tease him, but you can't. It's been so long for you as well - you know how it feels. Kind of.
It's not as if you haven't been... pleasuring yourself, but for him, he's gone weeks without so much as a gentle touch on his body.
He's been thinking of you though, all that time, when he was lying next to his fellow sorcerers, unable to quench the need in his guts to tug himself off to your image. He has committed every beautiful feature of your body to his memory; every freckle, every curve and dip, every scar. And you're always on his mind, whether he's awake or sleeping, which slowly builds his frustrations as the days go by.
You know he must've really struggled this time.
"Megumi-" you prop yourself up in bed as he sits down, getting under the covers with you again.
He gives you a look. Kind of sad. Kind of needy.
And he just gets on his side, drags you back under the duvet and wraps his arms around your middle in the tightest cuddle. He presses his lips over your nape, down your shoulders, over your strappy pyjamas and just holds you.
After some time, his hands start to wander and he squeezes you- your waist, your ass, then he settles on your chest, kneading your boobs gently.
"I missed you"
He finally whispers against your neck.
"Feeling so... pent up."
He admits with a groan, as he starts grinding his erection over your plush ass and up your back.
"Use me, then"
"Oh, princess, no you can't say stuff like that-" his face scrunches into a little grimace, feeling the ache of his cock. He swears his balls are gonna go completely blue.
"'m not gonna last long- I, I-"
"Please, do it quick, I need you-"
You grind against him now, rubbing his shaft up and down, feeling him getting hotter.
He tugs your skimpy pyjamas away and pushes you open from behind, lifting your leg to slip his cock in between your squishy thighs.
He guides himself to your warm, soft pussy and edges in. And, with the baseline level of moisture in there, he can just about get inside. It's tight, with a little sting, but you honestly don't care. You push back on him and he grunts and growls until he's buried in you.
He fucks you like an animal in heat, with your leg in a vice like grip, his hips hammering into you. With a swift motion he pushes you onto your front, without his cock slipping out, then moves to straddle your thighs. He gets on top of you and just loses it.
"Not gonna- last-"
He presses your ass open and squeezes your cheeks, pounding into you. You grab at the sheets, trying to angle yourself to allow him to get as deep as possible.
"Yeah, do that- fuck, push that ass out for me, uh huh l-ike that-"
He presses you into the bed and gives you the most intense backshots, your pussy just throbbing with the full, fat length of him. You swear, after this break- of not being filled for weeks, and with his lack of contact- it's the biggest he's ever felt. He's so swollen and hard, his balls so heavy with every slap against your skin. And it's making you crazy.
"Love it when you fuck me like this-" you whimper into the pillow, "feels like you need me so bad-"
"I do, fuck, I do need you-"
He grabs at your hair now, one hand still resting firm on your ass.
"Need you, I love you so fucking much- waiting for me and, ahh-and letting me use this sweet pussy-"
"Love y-you Megumi~" your toes curl with the most intense orgasm, your gripping and clenching just urging him to cum.
"Fuck- c-lose, I'm close-"
And without any more warning he pulls out, leaving you feeling shocked and empty, and sprays his load up your back and over your ass.
"Fuck, fuck-- ugghh!!"
He wipes his tip over your cheeks and squeezes the last drops of cum out, panting hard.
"Again?" He breathes heavy and pushes his hair out of his face.
"Need to show you- how much I missed you."
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megumi
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lesbianrobin · 1 year
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lesbianrobin fic scraps #5: you construct intricate rituals to be lifted by other men
"You do know that you have curly hair, right?"
"Uh, yeah," Eddie says, yanking a brush through his hair and wincing at the ripping sound.
"So you're destroying it on purpose? It's, like, a metal thing?"
"Huh?"
"Do you even use conditioner?"
"I didn't invite you here so you could heckle me in my own home."
Steve leans against the front door, all casual like he hangs out in Eddie's living room all the time. "You didn't invite me here, I came to pick you up and you weren't ready. Also, I'm not heckling," Steve says, "Just observing. You don't, do you?"
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” Eddie says, “It’s called two-in-one shampoo and conditioner, asshole.”
Steve lets out a noise that's halfway between a groan and a gasp. "You're joking."
Eddie raises an eyebrow.
"Oh my God, you're not joking," Steve mumbles, eyes wide.
Eddie drops his hairbrush on the coffee table and grabs his keys. "Didn't realize I needed perfect hair to ride in Steve Harrington's fancy car."
"No, but you do need shoes."
Eddie looks down.
"Oh," he says. "Yeah, that would probably help."
-
"After this party, you and I are going to the store and getting you some real shampoo and conditioner."
Eddie's still tying his right shoe, seated in the passenger seat of Steve's BMW. "I shudder to think what overpriced garbage you consider the baseline for hair-care products."
“Whine any more and I'm buying you leave-in, too.”
“What's leave-in?”
“Jesus Christ,” Steve says mournfully, looking up at the sky as if asking the man himself to lend some strength before starting his car.
Eddie observes as they pull out of the trailer park. “So, O Great Master of the haircare arts, how did you acquire such knowledge on the demands of curly hair?”
“Did you miss when people called me 'The Hair' for four years?”
“Your hair isn’t curly.”
“What, I’m not allowed to know things?” Steve sounds agitated, and he looks straight ahead at the road, not even glancing at Eddie a little bit as he speaks.
"...Oh, there's a story here!"
"No, there's not."
"The lady doth protest too much," Eddie sings, leaning close to Steve's face. Steve glances at him, though he looks back to the road quickly, shoving Eddie back toward his own seat without looking at him.
"Don't laugh."
"I won't, swear on my life," Eddie lies.
"Alright… so, you know Lucas."
"Yes."
Steve sighs. "Well, you've seen me fuck with Dustin's hair, right? I do it to Max and even Mike sometimes if he doesn't look like he'll bite me, and Lucas, he used to have, like, shorter hair, so you could kinda give him a noogie and it was, like, whatever, but now he's got the flat top and I didn't know if I could, like, touch it without messing it up, yknow? So I went to the library—"
Eddie bursts into laughter.
Steve slams his hands on the steering wheel. "I knew you were gonna laugh!"
"No," Eddie struggles to say between laughs, "No, oh my God, that's the cutest thing I've ever—"
"I fucking hate you," Steve sulks.
He can just see it, is the thing, Steve walking into the library and ringing the little bell and stumbling over his words as he asks the librarian for help finding books about hair. Squinting at the spines of books, checking out a few, carrying them back to his car and dumping them in the passenger seat with a satisfied grin.
"I had to help Dustin with his hair for the Snow Ball, too, and his is curly, so you know, I started with him back then, and then Lucas, and then I just kept reading, and it was…" Steve shrugs. "I don't know, it was cool."
Steve says it nonchalantly. As if that isn't the most precious thing on planet Earth.
"You're so cute," Eddie says, and Steve rolls his eyes, but there's something there, Eddie thinks, something soft and fond in the slight curve of his lips. There's something.
-
This isn't how Eddie had imagined getting Steve's hands on him, but he really can't be mad about it.
“Alright, alright,” Dustin chants, as Robin hoots and whistles her support.
Someone begins pounding on the table repeatedly.
“Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve!” Lucas begins the chant and Max joins in, followed shortly by Robin and Dustin. Mike looms over Eddie with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.
“No pressure, Harrington,” Eddie says.
“Man, shut up,” Steve replies, and starts to push.
Astoundingly, Eddie rises.
“Oh, shit,” he says, tensing his body as much as he can. Steve would never drop him, but Eddie might not have the abdominal muscles required to keep himself from toppling off to the side.
The Steve chant gets louder and faster, more hands pounding on tables and feet stomping on the floor. Mike is clearly trying so hard to look unimpressed, but his eyes just keep getting wider as Eddie rises higher and finally reaches the peak, Steve's arms extended as much as they can without locking out, and he holds Eddie aloft for a few seconds, and Eddie wishes more than anything that he could see Steve's face right now. Steve begins to lower him down, and god, this was all over too fast, and Eddie's heart is pounding like crazy, so loud in his ears that it almost drowns out all of their friends' raucous screaming.
“What in the hell is all this racket?”
Eddie startles, almost falling, but Steve digs his fingers in, and holy shit Eddie's going up again, and then he's coming down, and how is Steve this strong?
“Two,” Dustin calls out, “Holy shit!”
As Eddie goes up again, Nancy explains, “Steve said he can bench, like, two hundred pounds or something, and Eddie said he bet Steve couldn't even lift him and he's about one-seventy—”
“One-sixty, Wheeler,” Eddie calls out, and then he's coming back down again and Steve says, “I don't know, feels more like one-eighty.”
“Oh, screw you.”
“Three!”
"...Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve..!"
“Huh.” Mike's dad almost sounds impressed. “Well, keep it down, your sister's trying to do her homework.”
Mike snorts. “Holly's homework is coloring.”
“Hey, don’t knock coloring,” Eddie says. It’s hard to sound normal, with Steve’s hands pressing into his back and thighs, but he’s pretty sure he’s managing it. “It’s a noble and honored tradition, Wheeler, one of humanity’s oldest pursuits. Art is—”
“Four!”
"...Steve, Steve..!"
“—what makes life worth living, after all.”
Steve grunts with effort, making Eddie’s chest seize up, but he rises for the fifth time. Someone says, “Jesus Christ,” but Eddie’s not sure who.
“Mike, maybe you could ask Steve here to take you to the gym sometime.”
“Dad,” Mike groans.
“And five!” Dustin begins to clap as soon as Eddie’s back down. The hooligans abandon pounding on the table to cheer, hooting and hollering with all of the enthusiasm of an adventuring party confronted with a chest full of riches.
“Alright, get off of me,” Steve grunts, and Eddie acquiesces, rolling to the side and leaping to his feet. God, he could scale a mountain right now. Eddie turns to look at Steve, and holy shit, actually, he could not scale a mountain right now, because his heart would explode. Lying on his back, face slightly flushed, arms splayed out and hair messy, Steve looks utterly obscene. To be fair, Steve always looks obscene, but Eddie can still feel the phantoms of Steve's hands pressing against him, and he holds a hand out without thinking. Steve takes it, leveraging himself up in a way that nearly has Eddie toppling down onto the floor next to him, but they manage to both stay standing.
"What do I owe you, again?"
"You guys forgot to actually bet anything," Dustin says helpfully.
"Shit," Steve sighs, letting go of Eddie's hand to put his hands on his hips.
"Maybe you could get me that hair crap you were talking about earlier."
"I win, and my reward is that I get to buy you things?"
"Yep," Eddie says. He can feel himself smiling, so wide that it's almost embarrassing, but he can't help it. Steve is smiling, too.
Steve eyes his hair, and apparently he's distressed enough by what he sees to sigh and say, "Shit, alright. But you have to use it exactly how I show you, asshole."
Eddie puts one hand on his heart and the other in the air. "Scout's honor."
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talkingparrotkee · 6 months
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One thing I like about MCU Shuri and also think several people sorely get wrong is that she's the more cool-headed character. She is slower to shout, panic, and anger, being relatively more laidback. Shuri would rather wall up and bury herself in her lab (M'Baku confirms this at Ramonda's funeral, and we see her doing just that in the beginning) before lashing out.
Even Ryan described how T'Challa was more hotheaded to T'Chaka's diplomat, while Shuri was the more cool and laid back one to fiery Ramonda.
We see it in her clothing styles.
We see this in the way she initially approaches things. Two key instances:
The way she first responds and confronts Namor. Shuri is still on defense at the river, but she is less combative or reactive compared to Ramonda. Shuri more quietly assesses and responds to him. Compare this to Ramonda, who immediately fires back and disregards what he says without even checking if it could possibly be true, to which Shuri has to point out some truths by empirical evidence (i.e., Ramonda dismissed him saying only they had vibranium, Shuri gently nudges her, saying he's covered in it, so that cannot be the case). A similar thing happens when she is down in Talokan with Namor. Throughout it all, Shuri kept a leveled head and bit back her tongue to think of solutions, even when things started turning south. She knew how to shut up as well rather than argue him down more (something not many people know how to do).
The way Shuri tried to extract Riri compared to Okoye. For starters, Shuri did not break into bathrooms or bring spears in Riri's dorm - she blended in and used the door. She did not make threats and give an ultimatum either. Shuri just tried to explain the urgency to Riri and draw her out without the use of physical force.
We also see it in her reactions with other characters.
In the first movie, she tells T'Challa to "calm down" when he shouts at her to drive. We also see her not care to fight T'Challa for the mantle, even if it is her birthright (she just wanted to go home and get out of a particularly uncomfortable corset). Instead, she prefers to fight alongside and as support.
Black Panther: "The Black Panther lives. And when he fights for the fate of Wakanda, I will be right there beside him."
Black Panther 2: "I was not trying to save the mantle mother, I was trying to save my brother."
For another example regarding her interactions with characters from Wakanda Forever, Riri is consistently depicted to be the more anxious and is more inclined to lose composure. Shuri, even when she's stressed or overwhelmed too, is often the one to remain composed. Shuri attempts to calm Riri down so she doesn't have a panic attack. Shuri also didn't reply when Riri started snapping at her about the FBI, only calmly working about and mapping out an escape plan.
One last particular example is with Okoye. Shuri is less quick to be defensive or shout compared to Okoye. We see it in the way Okoye commanded her to get in the car, and rather than shout back, she simply uttered quietly, "Why are you shouting at me..." Shuri didn't reply to Riri snapping, but Okoye did not let anything slide, pointing the finger back to her. During this entire exchange, Shuri was quietly observing before cutting in, saying how they needed to work together to get out of their situation.
Black Panther Wakanda Forever was her later in-character out-of-character. In other words, that unrivaled anger and snapping you saw was never her baseline. She's not an angry or vengeful person. That was the point of Ramonda, "Show him who you are," when she was hesitating killing Namor.
It was the result of her character at a breaking point. Shuri was not coping properly and dealing with frustrations she couldn't see her way out of. Shuri was struggling with spirituality. She was trying to know if her family was truly still there. She was trying to find the reason behind her failure and loss. Shuri already began cracking since T'Chaka died (see: Wakanda Files). T'Challa's death just broke her, with her narrowly holding her pieces together.
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jpitha · 1 year
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If Humans tolerate a greater amount of ambiguity than other Sapients, their risk tolerance is off the charts. Even a baseline human's risk tolerance would make any non-deathworlder sapient excrete themselves with fear and run the other way.
Timothy the human is with his friend Selleg, who he has offered to take to Earth for a week to "see the sights." They are at the spaceport, having just disembarked.
Selleg struggles with his new wheeled luggage. "Ugh, it's so heavy here."
"I'm sorry. I forget that you're not used to Earth gravity. Do you need me to wheel your luggage?" Timothy looks on with genuine concern for his friend.
"I'll be fine. I just hope we don't have to walk too far."
"Nah, the car-rental booth is right here, I'll get us a car and we can drive to my parents."
At the rental booth, Selleg is fascinated with the whole process. Timothy and the clerk go through the options and different kinds of vehicles available. Timothy is asked if he wants "the extra insurance" and he agrees immediately. He exchanges payment and with keys in hand, they walk to the lot.
"I had no idea there were so many different cars to choose from." Selleg remarks. Back home, everyone takes mass transit. Personally owned vehicles don't really exist."
"Really? Huh. I'd love to check it out someday!" They approach a red, low slung vehicle. It has that look that most human machines do of being alive and ready to pounce. Leave it to a predator species to make everything look like it's also a predator. "Okay! Here, I'll put your suitcase in the trunk and we'll set off."
They get in, and Timothy shows Selleg how the seatbelts work. "Just across your body like this and then click the silver part into the slot with the red button there. With a satisfying clunk, the seatbelt is secured. Selleg stares at all the buttons and dials and screens and switches. "Why are there so many displays?"
"What? Oh. Some tell me things about the car, and it's speed, temperature, mileage, things like that, others are for the entertainment system, and still others are for the heating and cooling."
Selleg stopped "The operation of the car is not automatic?"
Timothy shook his head "Nah, it's all manual. Don't worry, I know how to drive."
"You. Operate. This. Vehicle?" Selleg was clearly nervous.
"Sure! I've been doing it since I was 16. Only had one bad accident that whole time." Timothy pushed the start/stop button and the car roared to life. It settled down into a burbling idle. "I sprung for the sports car. It's been a while since I've driven, and I probably won't get another chance for a long time, so I decided to treat myself!"
"You haven't driven in a long time and decided to get a more powerful car anyway?"
"I'll be careful." Timothy promised. Let's go!" He put it in gear and pulled out into traffic.
****
"THAT WAS INSANE! YOU ARE INSANE!" Selleg was yelling.
"That was a perfectly normal drive!" Timothy pleaded. "Selleg, there was nothing unusual about it."
"You were driving less than two meters from the other cars!"
"It was heavy traffic."
"You were going over 100kph!?!"
"All the other cars were too" Timothy answered weakly.
"We passed three crashed cars!!"
"Yeah? Cars crash. Usually it's the drivers fault. I didn't see any ambulances, so everyone was probably all right."
"DON'T YOU THINK THEN THAT MAYBE YOU SHOULDN'T ALL BE DRIVING???" Selleg's fur was bristled and he was pacing.
"I'm sorry you were worried Selleg, it was a perfectly normal drive. I thought you'd be nervous about your first car ride so I drove carefully."
"That was carefully?" This is normal for humans?"
"Driving? Yes. that was by all accounts a perfectly normal drive. Some humans even like it"
In the high gravity of Earth, Selleg sat down heavily. "What have I signed up for?"
Timothy looked at his friend. "I'll just go ahead and cancel the skydiving tickets." he said sadly.
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velnna · 4 months
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One thing I never see people talk about is that post-Cazador Astarion is essentially a virgin. Hear me out. Technically, he's experienced and flirty and knows what he's doing, but, at the same time, he's free to have actually enjoyable sex for the first time in his life. I see people's super sexy and skilled Astarion headcanons and hey, all the power to those people, but no one can convince me that Astarion doesn't come in 5 minutes. It takes him a while to get over it. Sorry and you're welcome.
god I almost went on a whole Astarion analysis spiel then remembered this is tumblr
My only disclaimer here is I don't discuss existing characters, I discuss my own versions of existing characters. I have opinions on other people's headcanons when I see them but it's not like with a character like Astarion there's a right or wrong answer to these things. He's immature and conditioned on so many levels that honestly for each HC there's some version of him that would fit imo
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I don't really agree or disagree with the "he's basically a virgin" take, I think it REALLY depends on how you, as a writer, choose to interpret/handle the character in your HCs. He undeniably has a lot of experience with sex, a lot of trauma around it and a lot of pieces missing in his psyche to develop a healthy relationship with the whole thing. It could be that he does indeed just continue to be sexy and skilled bc that's what he knows, but with a change in circumstances eventually he relearns how to enjoy it that way. It could be that he needs to change that baseline behaviour to effectively get a "virgin" start at it. It could be that said "virginity" makes it sloppy and pleasurable to him, or has him conclude he's more on the ace spectrum and doesn't necessarily derive pleasure from it at all. You feel me? I think it's up to each person
"My" Astarion is a bit of a mix I'd say. He performs and knows what he's doing as a conditioned behaviour type of thing but with help and attention from a caring partner (or partners) changes things up and adjusts until there's new sensations and things get broken down. Which would lead to awkward sloppy "virgin" moments here and there.
Thanks for coming to my ted talk
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gotafewtricks · 7 months
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there are two main things that i love in this life: genji and plushies… what if reader makes genji plush and shows him..? would he like it? would he be like erm what the scallop? maybe this request is a little too silly… but… genji plush
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★ "Don't turn me into a marketable plush!"
i am going FERAL over this ask. i literally was just thinking of that, too, today. HAPPY BIRTHDAY GENJI <33 It's okay, nothing is ever "too silly" here :3 reminds me, I think on Etsy you can commission someone to make this kitty Genji plush? Or, I'm tripping.
You figured that you'd want to go get Genji a special gift. He doesn't really mention liking much, other than musing about his early fascination with arcades and his troublemaking antics. Over the course of years and years, he's calmed down, but you do love seeing his more playful sidee shine every once in a while.
You knew that in his line of work, he doesn't expect anything for himself. The most that he could ask is just for someone's happiness and appreciation, that that's it for him to be reminded that—yes, he's doing a good job, and he's doing his best.
When he first acquired his new body, he'd be disappointed in himself; in his newfound form. Blinded by his strong, persuading emotions—there would still be times where he felt as if he didn't deserve someone's kindness. If he were to see someone who mirrored how he was back then, he could not've felt empathy—rather, a digust in seeing a spitting image of himself.
He now understands his worth and value in a greater extent now, with the help of his closest companions, mentor, and everyone... Ah, it still gives him chills whenever he thinks about that whole process again.
You were first interested in his initial reaction towards getting a plush. Would he think of it as merely childish, or would he understand the amount of hours you absolutely slaved over in trying to find the right techniques for it? Only time'll tell.
The idea was cute and simple; as it was merely just a plush. You wondered if he even cared much for plushes, figurines, or anything that he could really display. You knew that with his work as an agent, he is more-than-likely constantly out. It's be cool if he were to be able to at least settle the gift in a place he'd be able to see it every so often, as a gentle lil' reminder of you, but you didn't even know of he even... had a consistent residence.
You persevered, albeit.
After tutorial video after tutorial video on trying to work on a humanoid base for your plush, it became taxing on your hands. Either if you're working with knitting needles, sewing by hand, or machine—it was annoying how you'd prick your finger, trying to aim for the felt to stitch it up; or, the amount of hours that pass by whenever you try out your crocheting skills. It was a simple idea, so why weren't there any simpler methods?
Nights where you'd slump over your desk, fingers all red from the exertion, and your brain tired from all of it. You wanted to do your best for Genji, but it was difficult trying to even find a baseline on where to start with him. How'd you even make his helmet? Nonetheless, the inteicate details to his outfit and weapons?
You didn't want to commission the plush, as you were determined to make it from your own very hands. Through sweat, blood, and tears—you WILL make this thing.
Ultimately, you knew better than to just work and work and work on such a hard project. As much as you wanted to show Genji your utmost appreciation, also in a medium that you'd equally love, you knew that gifting Genji a bundle of stuffing all patched together by mishappen thread wasn't something you should be thinking of.
At the end of the day, you just wanted this idea to get out of your head. You didn't promise a gift to him, rather, you promised one to yourself. You'll get this done, even if it's eating away and nagging at your thoughts. You didn't buy all of those supplies for nothing, after all! Better make that money worth it.
Thinking on the topic of him possibly not being able to display the gift in a convenient position, you did consider making the plush smaller. However, the only issue was was because of the loss of quality that is also brought by with it—since you have to downscale the details, and simplify a few things so that it doesn't look all-too overwhelming.
You decided on making him a little charm. You'd imagine he'd be able to put it on a bracelet or a necklace, or just on whatever—as a little bit of added personalization. There were still the downsides listed prior, but you feel as if you tackled too big of a project for yourself; as it did require both patience in waiting lots, and having a lots of time.
At first, you were lost on really doing this, but ovee time with what you've learnt, you made a little plush charm that could fit into someone's palm! You were awfully proud of the little guy, since as soon as you were done making him and hooking the little chain, you gave it a tiny headpat with your index finger. Well done.
When Genji felt you tap his shoulder, you could tell that there was a smile behind his voice, as he asked what you wanted. He sensed you before then, but wanted to see what you'd do anyways.
You hid the item behind your back, snickering to yourself about what'll ever possibly happen. You guessed it was just from Genji, but gosh, does he make you eager. Even if he's not doing remotely anything in specific.
"What is it? Normally, people do not just laugh at something with their hands like that." He'd point out—thanks Captain Obvious—whilst with that teasing edge to his voice. He'd take a sidestep, a gander at what you may have, and then you try to cover it up.
"Be patient! Isn't that your whole thing?"
You then would sigh, as he made a mocking motion with his hands; mimicking how a sock puppet would speak. Upon making the comment on how he must not want his gift after all, he then shakes his head affectionately with a gentle tsk.
Once you then clasped your hands over the charm, you brought it out in front of you. When you released them, and showing him the little plush, he couldn't help but laugh at how adorable the thought was. He'd look up and down, judging by how he moved his head—since you cannot really see his eyes—nonverbally asking you if he could pick it up. You allowed him, and he then held the little guy in between his thumb and index.
"It's a pocket you." You explained, sounding dumb but you didn't care. Genji was busy squishing it, and playing with the keychain. "You're a father now."
He hated how he was just so giggly today. With an eye roll, you knew him enough to tell that, he then pockets the object in his hoodie. You were glad he liked it so much. "I'll take great care of my new son, don't worry."
The next day, whenever you went out to get a breath of fresh air—you saw Genji, sparring his sword against some practice dummies set up around the site. You wished you would've said more previously to him, that you made the gift out of appreciation for the ninja—but seeing how he had the accessory pinned on his hand, a place where he'd always have it... It spoke volumes.
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whetstonefires · 1 year
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Very fun thing actually about Jin Guangyao is he spent so much time and energy passing himself off as normal. The Normalest Guy, Look How Normal I Am. The Very Best And Most Skilled At Normal Things, Like Being Normal And Having Normal Opinions.
Which is great because on the one hand it reflects how he was kind of aware he absolutely was not. (And that by default this isolated him and this was Very Unsafe.) But on the other you see, with all the times he falls into the typical mind fallacy under stress and projects weird shit onto people, he also on some level believed everyone was doing this.
That being a Normal Person who had Normal Reactions to things, like being appalled by brutal violence, was an elaborate social lie everyone had to maintain to keep up the facade of civil society, and actually everyone was basically the same as him deep down. He was just better at it, and also the smartest.
Which is a very long way to say his character arc is heavily tied up with his evolving relationship with and skills at masking. I'm not gonna armchair diagnose him because that's beside the point, the point is that he is trying so fucking hard to be normal, but without a particularly well-developed definition of what's abnormal about him to begin with, resulting in some misfires.
And then you contrast him to some other characters and it gets more fun. One of his direct foils is Nie Mingjue, who literally does not know how to mask at all, not the slightest bit, but is fortunate enough to have been born the exact kind of weirdo his position in life demands, with special interests in 'saber training' and 'destroying evil.'
(He explicitly, per narration from wwx being inside his head, has no other interests and doesn't really understand the idea of having more than one activity you care about, do not tell me Nie Mingjue is walking around with a normal brain.)
So he is (jgy has a point about this, although he actually makes it about the luxury of having moral compunctions) free to totally embrace the conviction that everyone should basically be their authentic selves at all times, and just not do evil things about it.
On the other hand, and this really illuminates their relationship for me, Lan Xichen is absolutely trying to be normal. Like, he does try to excel, he wants to be best and he knows he's good, but as a person he is also trying to be as normal as circumstances allow.
He understands 'being normal about things' as a goal not in jgy's terms as an elaborate social fiction but as aspirational shaping of the self; if everyone is normal about everything then there won't be needless conflict. Living as normally as possible will optimize your mental health and your respect for others, and it's just a good baseline from which to be good.
Which is fine as far as it goes, but means harmless eccentricity (including gay) is to be tolerated and swept under the rug rather than really supported, and prejudices him to instinctively side with Jin Guangyao and anyone else who is pushing for Let's Be Normal About This, even when the people being weird are in the right.
(This is also to a non-zero degree a trauma response behavior; what Lan Xichen experienced as the largest existential threat to him growing up was something along the lines of being perceived as a selfish disruptor of norms, like his father.)
And then contrast that to Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji, who are both very concerned at least initially with how things and people and they themselves are supposed to be, and feel some responsibility for ensuring this supposed-to is reflected in reality.
But neither of them makes any particular attempt to be normal about it.
And then ofc Wei Wuxian, another jgy narrative foil, never attempts to pass himself off as normal. He will sell 'I'm better than everyone ever' and 'I'm scum of the earth' in the same breath before he will try for normal.
Except that he genuinely seems to think his most virtuous traits, his throw-himself-between-victim-and-weapon impulses, are basically normal. If not everyone (who isn't a total shithead) does it, it's because not everyone has his insane confidence they can pull it off.
Which in a good mood he would say is fair, because he is in fact awesome and really good at winning. (In a worse state of mind he would definitely hate on all the selfish cowards.)
Nie Huaisang is probably the most genuinely normal human being in the main cast, probably even more normal than Jiang Yanli, and he's very happy to play that up and present himself as actually even more normal and average than he is, in order to keep expectations down.
Up until his whole life gets fucked and this little pretense turns into the most elaborate and successful mask in the entire book.
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balteredsworld · 6 days
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my mistake. gregory house
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🩺🥼 | you should've known better, but you don't. you were pathetically in love with house.
warnings! age gap, office (?) romance, angst, idiots in love, fellow!reader, doc!reader, stageplay style format, lyrics sprinkled
you bite back tears.
house. (mockingly) are you gonna cry?
you. no, something counterfeit's dead. nothing to cry about.
he's staring at you with half squinted eyes, scoffing without reprieve, somehow colder than ice.
house. right... the fact that you have to say that proves there's something to cry about. so, what is it? what did you think it was?
you look away, blinking like you were guilty. a patronizing look's settled on house's face now. gears turning in eyes when he realizes you were stupid enough to get lovestruck in between casual banter and sex, and nights spent in the nook of this godforsaken office talking; tittering about more and less.
he drawls out in theatrical mortification.
house. oh god. i must really be that good. never realized i could dick you down into being lovestruck. oops!
his voice echoes in your head.
idiot, it's just sex.
house doesn't need to spell it out for you. you gave into an illusion that isn't, that wouldn't, and that couldn't. it was a girlish fantasy to think you could have it with him. yet, you clung onto some sliver of hope that he could transter his aptitude to his feelings and articulate those gentlemanly gestures into spoken words, and not fleeting silent declarations that were destined for the abyss. you suppose that the two of you will follow that fate. must be the law of entropy, or some other law of physics that house had mentioned in passing in your briefings.
you nod numbly, tongue retaliating without second thought. you could match him if he wanted. house isn't the be-all and end-all he pretends to be.
you. yeah, you fucked me so good i almost said three words.
house throws his head back, dissatisfied.
house. that's not an answer.
your brow shoots up, accusingly.
you. oh! you want an answer! i thought you'd already come up with that on your own minutes ago.
you know he wants a definite answer, unsatisfied being kept in the unknown. only, you know he only wants you to say what he already knows.
you. what do you want me to say house? i don't know what you want me to say.
he barks.
house. you caught feelings! i don't know what you want me to do with that!
you. acknowledge them, house! like a normal fucking human being!
house sighs, licking his lips in careful consideration.
house. i'm too old for you. baseline feelings are just baseline. what you want is all the domestic crap that you know i can't give you. you're a doctor. i'd be a mistake.
you. then be my mistake! if you're so convinced you'll break my heart, break my heart.
he blinks. your words hang heavy, waiting for something to come out of his lips. anything to put you out of your misery, but he doesn't.
you. (barely in a whisper) i'm offering my heart to you.
house. you...
you. be my mistake, house.
you eye him desperately, slowly faltering.
you. please.
but again, he doesn't say anything, merely standing with gaping eyes. you stay a moment longer, before you resign yourself pathetically.
house. you'll make me worse.
your brows crinkle.
you. what?
house. (slowly) you'll make me worse. you'll make me care, caring's for idiots. it's ordinary.
you blink, looking at him incredulously.
house. i can't be worse, l/n. i'm already bad. if i start caring, i'll be making myself a worse doctor. i can't be worse. i need to diagnose.
you. you're scared to jump ship because you'll do a bad job?
your words and tone are like his. you echo him down to the furrow of your brow. house sees that alarmingly.
you. you think that caring makes you ordinary? house, there's nothing ordinary about you! you're this god-like hotshot doctor who's always right, even if you're a jerk, you're right.
his eyes soften.
house. (musing) all the more reason to listen to me.
you. take a chance, house. otherwise tell me you don't care. say that i'm pathetic and we can forget about this.
house doesn't say anything, eyes steeling in contemplation. you wait, but he doesn't move. they were right. house isn't willing to sacrifice and compromise his objectivity for you. you'd read him wrong.
you swallow.
you. i understand.
you turn to leave, swallowing your nerve for the sake of your dignity. you'd thought that all those looks meant something, that sex wasn't just sex. but you're an idiot. you could say that for him.
it doesn't take a medical license to know that. even one of the fools in the er would know.
house leans on his table. the lamp casts a handsome shadow on his face, making his grey stubble glitter slightly. there's a totally grave look on his face. it's easier to be mean, but he holds his tongue for you.
house. i can't give you what you want.
you spare him a look, already by the door.
you. i don't want anything. just you.
somehow, you find the strength to chuckle, albeit weakly. it does nothing to lift the discomfort between the two of you.
you. but hey, it's just sex, right?
you try to appreciate his effort. he's never just mean, it's a shiny veneer he designed to shoo people away. underneath that, he's the most considerate man you've ever met.
but you can't. it would be easier if he was just plain mean, because at least you didn't have to know that he was lying to himself.
house. i... i'm sorry.
you. (solemnly) don't be. see you tomorrow.
instead of a silly apology, you rather him just call you pathetic. but you can't always get what you want, just like how house can't let himself say the words he's been saying to you with those infuriating eyes of his. but the two of you were destined to the same abyss those silent declarations vanished to.
it was never nothing, but the pain in his leg would never let him say that. he's convinced himself that he'll drag you to misery, so he watches you leave to see you in the morning like you'd been nothing more than his fellow.
you end up as his mistake either way.
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qqueenofhades · 3 months
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Is it normal that I’m legitimately so scared of saying pretty morally tame things like “I don’t want to talk about genocide because it makes me severely uncomfortable” or in general expressing my political opinion.
Like i’m not even kidding when I say that all my drafts are just my possibly offensive (probably not) political takes i’m just so scared of everyone leaving me it’s not even funny.
Anyway i also think that if you talk about Palestine but not Ukraine you are a victim of Russian Propaganda™️
I’m sorry I don’t know why i did this have a nice day ok baiiiiiii
Here's the thing. You and every other average social media user should not have to masquerade as a sudden in-depth expert on every single social, political, humanitarian, etc. crisis that we are dealing with in this wretchedly miserable excuse for a timeline. It should not be a baseline expectation on you that when you log onto your little social media in your little average life, you have to come up with The Correct Opinions on everything and if you don't, you're "perpetrating oppression" by not vigorously spreading misinformation, instead of simply admitting that you don't know what to do, you as an average citizen are not in a position of making this change and therefore don't actually have to spend every waking minute obsessing about it, and that maybe, just maybe, you'd like to spend more time informing yourself until and/or IF you decide you want to talk about it. This is the same as the Instagram Activists (TM) who traumatize themselves to the point of PTSD by constantly consuming torture and/or war porn and/or graphic content about murdered children because they "don't have the right to look away." Actually, you do. You are able to make choices to control your personal social media use and to set boundaries as to what you do and do not want to do and/or see, rather than insisting that the only moral choice is to literally mentally destroy yourself with all the weight of human suffering in the world and then expected to act as a de facto expert on all of it, on pain of being Cancelled. This is a stupid, irrational, unhealthy, and generally idiotic expectation. You should not have to take part in it. Nobody should.
Likewise, I think that this is a large part of why people are so scared to voice any opinion that goes against the Prevailing Groupthink: they are afraid of losing friends, of having nasty bad-faith internet trolls say mean things about them, being accused of being a "bad person," or otherwise being guilt-tripped, shamed, and blamed for not centering their entire existence around something that they cannot actually do anything about. Once again, people think the only way you can be Known to Oppose Something Problematic (tm) is if you post on social media about it all the time. Forget whatever you might be doing offline, in your real life, or otherwise; it "doesn't count" if you don't make a big virtuous display of your Rightthink, or you will be viciously harassed. Now, look, I am old and/or tired enough that I don't give a shit what stupid internet users say about me, but I can tell you that I sure did when I was younger, it was incredibly painful to be on the end of those kinds of attacks, and it's (again!) not something you should just have to expect as a baseline level of gaslighting and harassment. As I have said. This is Tumblr. It is a stupid blue website mostly for fandom and/or three in-jokes. This is not a platform where we are expected To Do Social Justice all the time, nor should it be. As for Elon Musk's Twitter: yeah. No.
Also: yes, if you do spend all your waking moments obsessing over Palestine, but say nothing whatsoever about Ukraine and/or openly support Russia, you are in fact very much a victim of Russian Propaganda and you 100% support genocide when it's done by an "anti-western" state that you support for that reason alone. You only care because you can use the cause to make yourself look morally superior, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with opposing genocide on a basic, universal, or fundamental level. The end.
(I hope you have a nice day too. The anger in this is not directed at you. I support everything you've said here and hope that you're able to set healthy boundaries and protect yourself.)
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astraltrickster · 3 months
Text
My logic on the fairy vs. walrus question is this:
I am fairy-ignostic. Do I think they're real? That depends on how you define "fairy" and "real" - I think the mythology is meaningful, I think they're an interesting speculative fantasy about the natural world and the unexplained (and potentially the unexplainable), and I will happily respect the mythology so long as it's not asking me to harm other people because 1) respecting harmless beliefs, even if I don't share them, is just the polite thing to do and 2) I don't want to find out I'm wrong the hard way...but I don't think we're going to see literal physical tiny humanoids with butterfly or dragonfly wings floating around us any time soon.
But there is precedent for something people thought was just a myth to turn out to have been true, usually not in exactly the same sense as the myth (it's usually a previously unexplained natural phenomenon or an underestimated power of one, a fast glimpse of an unknown species, or something similar) but still in a more literal way than people assumed, so seeing a fairy at my doorstep is just kind of - oh! Wow! Just like things that are almost-but-not-quite deer (CWD), living caves that eat people (turns out they don't have to be "alive" in the literal biological flesh-and-blood sense to do that), the various animals we described as "sea monsters" before we properly recorded them, and more, it turns out at least one fairy myth was more literal than I gave it credit for. That's exciting and I can't wait to find out more about what this means! But I have a baseline. It's just familiar enough to be a case of, "all right! So, which myth is this most like? There are a lot of fairies that show up at doorsteps, after all," while being just unfamiliar enough to tell me, okay, I need to just accept what happens here and go with the flow. I won't give them my name, and I will be extremely careful to live up to rules of good hospitality and clarify any potential points of conflict. Surprising, but I can handle this.
A walrus, on the other hand...I know how walruses act. I know their normal range. I even know where the closest place I could see one is relative to me. I obviously know they're real in the most literal possible sense - but I also know, relatively speaking, a great deal about how they work, and this experience flies in the face of ALL of that knowledge. I'd start checking to see if this was some kind of Candid Camera successor, and if it is, who's filming this? Is the walrus real, or is it some guy in a very realistic costume? Whether it's real or not, how did it get here? Did someone bring it? Who? Did it escape from a zoo/aquarium? The closest place I could normally find one is nearly 200 miles away, how did it get to my doorstep without someone stopping it? Why is it on MY doorstep?
Furthermore, when a likely 1,700-3,700 pound marine mammal just decides to show up in your face...on top of the shock, there's also the terror of, well, fuck it, that marine mammal owns my house now, I guess! I have to worry about keeping my cats safe. I have to worry about my neighbors doing something stupid and getting gored with its tusks. I have to minimize property damage. I have to call animal control. A fairy, I can communicate with. A walrus, I cannot.
Ergo, the walrus is both more surprising AND more alarming.
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