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Art giveaway (posted 11/22)

As most of you are aware, I just hit 10k, so I wanted to do something to show my thanks!! I will pick two (2) winners using a randomizer. Both will receive a digital drawing that is fully shaded.

The drawing will be: of any bnha character, sfw or nsfw, can do a bnha character with y/n, you, or your OC

Rules:

must be following me

must be 18+ or older if you want nsfw

like and reblog this post (will only count one entry, so no reblog spamming pls)

entries will be closed on December 1st 10 AM EST

I will choose and message the winners on that same day. Winners must reply within 12 hours (by 10 PM EST) or I will pick someone else.

Only Good Girls Get to Come

Night had already set in by the time you glided your car into your driveway. As you shifted into park and watched your garage door close in your rearview mirror, you sighed heavily. The day had been long. Full of meetings that could have been emails and spreadsheets that should have been meetings. Typical.

You grabbed your bag, stepped out of the car, and slammed the door shut with a bit too much force. It felt good. You threw your heels off. Letting them land wherever they felt like. You were too tired to care. 

Opening the door to your home, you groaned when you saw the stairs. Somehow, on the days you were the most annoyed, you always seemed to forget there were stairs. It was only one flight though. Then, you could fall onto the couch.

As you slowly ascended the stairs, each step heavier than the last, you heard something. It sounded like a bag rustling. Then, glass clinking. 

You froze.  

Then, you slowly removed the pepper spray from your bag. Adjusting it just right in your hand as you continued to move up the steps. There was a light coming from your kitchen. Was a burglar eating your food?

Your shoulders relaxed when you heard a familiar, British accented voice say your name, followed by, “You got any dijon?”

Dropping the pepper spray back into your bag, you groaned as you cleared the last few steps and into the living room of your home. You could see Captain John Price rummaging through your fridge, squatted down low, looking through condiments. 

“Yeah, at the bottom. To the left.” You said as you tossed your bag on the floor next to the couch.

He hummed in acknowledgement when he found the mustard, and stood up. He gently closed the fridge and made his way to the counter while you walked over to the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen, taking a seat. Watching him with an unamused look. 

“What the hell are you doing here, John?” You asked as you slumped down on the cool granite.

He scoffed as he took a piece of bread off the top of an already made sandwich, “I told you, I’m crashin’ here this weekend. I sent you a text.”

You thought back to your day as he grabbed a knife and spread out the condiment on the soft bread. You remembered now. He had messaged you that morning saying he would be in town. This wasn’t an unusual event. You two had known each other for several years. He had a key. Something you gave him when he complained about the cost of hotels. Your guest room was hardly ever used, so why not lend it out to him a few times a year when he needed it.

You sighed and rubbed your hand down face, “Oh sorry, I forgot. Long day.”

He finished assembling his sandwich, put the mustard back, and was rinsing off the knife when he asked, “Ain’t that merger still, is it?”

You nodded as you placed your chin in your hand, “Yep. Should be finalized by next week.”

He grabbed the sandwich, now cut in half, and around a mouth full asked, “Want some?”

You stared at the food and nodded silently. He handed one half over to you and you both ate in a comfortable silence. He finished his in a few large bites while you were still half way through yours. Too tired to devour it.

“You look like you need a coma.” John said with a low chuckle.

Between bites, and without much thought, you said, “I need to get laid.”

John laughed, “Yeah? Is that so?”

You groaned, “Sorry, it’s been a long week. Fuck, it’s been a long month. A long year.” You finished the last bite of your sandwich and added, “It’s not your problem. Forget I said anything.”

“I can make it my problem.” he said in a low voice, with something more dancing underneath it.  

You gazed over at him, raising your brow as you took in his mischievous smile. For the first time all day, a smile broke out on your lips. Growing bigger by the second.

“Oh yeah?” You asked, your tone playful. Your eyes finally roamed his body. He had showered already, his hair still damp and combed out of his face. His beard wasn't trimmed, but it was clean. He wore a plain white shirt that hugged his shoulders in the most tantalizing way. The counter blocked most of the view, but a pair of grey sweatpants clung to his hips. 

Your eyes met his again and his smile turned devious, “Like what ya see?”

An even larger smile spread across your lips as a laugh came out, loud and full. You tried to gain your composure as John added, his tone playful, “Oh, is my offer of fuckin’ you senseless, funny to you?”

You leaned back on the stool and crossed your arms, “Maybe. I don’t really see you as the ‘fucking women senseless type’, old man.” 

He didn’t move right away. Only watched you, arms crossed, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was deciding how much trouble you deserved. Then, he stepped around the counter, slow and deliberate. His bare feet were quiet against the tile, but somehow he made the whole room feel smaller.

“That so?” he asked, voice low and gravelly. “You think I’m all talk?”

You opened your mouth, to keep teasing and to challenge him again. Except then, he was in front of you, close enough to steal the breath from your lungs. One hand found the back of your stool, the other tilted your chin up until you had no choice but to meet that dark, glinting gaze.

“S’funny,” he murmured, mouth brushing yours, “because you’re about to be beggin’ that same old man not to stop.”

You didn’t get the chance to answer. His lips found yours in a kiss that started slow, and deepened fast. His hand slid from your chin to the back of your neck, pulling you in tighter, controlling the angle like he needed you to feel how serious he was.

By the time he pulled back, you were breathless. He looked entirely unbothered, smirking, relaxed, cocky in a way that had your thighs clenching.

“Let’s see if you’re still laughin’,” he said, voice like a promise, “when I’ve got you cryin’ on my cock.”

Your grin widened, but your breath hitched just a little. He saw it, and that smug, knowing look spread across his face like fire catching dry brush. He leaned in and said, low and rough, “You gonna sit there all night actin’ brave, or are you gonna stand up and let me ruin that attitude?”

You cocked your head, lips twitching. “Might need some convincing.”

That was the last straw.

Without a word, he gripped your thighs and pulled fast enough to catch you off guard. His grip was firm enough to draw a sharp yelp from your lips. You barely had time to blink before he had you off the stool and up and over his shoulder. One arm over your hips and holding you like it was nothing.

“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered, starting down the hallway as you pressed your hands into his back and laughed, “I offered to be nice about this.”

“Mmmm, you sound a little desperate, old man.”

He gave your ass a solid smack in response, hard enough to sting and soft enough to be playful.

“Keep runnin’ that mouth, sweetheart. You’re only makin’ it worse for yourself.”

You could feel the heat building in him with every step, the way his grip on you tightened slightly as he carried you toward your bedroom. The air shifted from playful tension to something hotter, heavier.

When he kicked the door shut behind him, it was like a switch flipped. He dropped you onto the bed. Not rough, but with enough force to bounce, enough to show he wasn’t playing anymore.

“Strip,” he said, pulling his shirt off over his head. “And lose the attitude while you’re at it.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, still lying back on the bed. “You always give orders like that, Captain, or am I just special?”

Price dropped the shirt to the floor and stepped closer, towering over the edge of the bed with a look that landed somewhere between amused and done with your shit.

“You’re bloody special, alright,” he said dryly. “Special kind of difficult.”

Your grin widened.

He leaned in, one knee hitting the mattress as his hand firmly closed around your ankle. He dragged you toward the edge of the bed inch by inch, slow enough to make your heart pound. You bit your bottom lip trying to hold back the devious grin on your face, but it was a useless endeavor. 

“I like a challenge,” he murmured, voice lower now, intimate. “Especially when they moan real sweet once I’ve shut ’em up.”

You started to open your mouth, some smart remark half-formed on your tongue, but he was already moving. He hooked his fingers into your waistband, yanking your bottoms down and off with practiced ease.

“Still got that attitude?” he asked, his voice soft now, too soft.

You nodded slowly, defiantly.

He just smiled.

“Good,” he said, spreading your legs and settling between them like he had all the time in the world. “Makes it more fun when I fuck it out of you.”

You went to snap something back, but the words fizzled the second his calloused hands slid up your thighs. One palm anchored your hip while the other pushed your shirt up inch by inch, baring your stomach to the cool air.

“Arms up,” he said simply.

His tone was calm, commanding, and it sent a surge of electricity straight through you. You hesitated just long enough for him to raise an eyebrow.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

You obeyed, slowly, lifting your arms as he peeled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside. The bra remained, a delicate, thin veil of black lace. The look in his eyes darkened when it was all that remained.

“Mm,” he hummed, fingers sliding under the straps, dragging them down your arms one at a time. “Almost a shame to take this off.”

He leaned forward, lips brushing the swell of your breast through the lace. Then, he reached behind you with one practiced flick of the wrist.

Click.

The clasp gave instantly, no fumbling, just ease. Control.

“There we go,” he muttered, dragging the straps the rest of the way down. He tossed it aside without looking, too focused on the way your nipples hardened under his gaze, the way you shifted under the weight of it.

“Don’t even think about runnin’ that mouth,” he muttered, hooking his fingers into your underwear.

You opened your mouth, another bratty quip forming, but then the fabric was gone. Dragged down your legs and tossed behind him. And then his hands were on your thighs again, firmer this time, pushing your knees apart like it was routine.

His voice was low and thick with something darker now. “Let’s see how long you can last.”

He dragged two fingers through your folds, slowly, deliberately, and barely dipping in. He didn’t look down or let his gaze leave yours. Didn’t need to.

“Wet already?” he murmured, thumb brushing against your clit just enough to tease. Now, he took a moment to look upon your dripping cunt and added, “And you’re still pretending you don’t need me.”

You squirmed, biting your lip. “You’re the one taking your sweet time, old man.”

His gaze snapped up. Steady. Lethal. Like a wolf who’d just decided how he was going to play with his food. His hand stilled, fingers just barely inside you.

“Right,” he said, as if making a decision.

Then, he pushed in. Two thick fingers, quick and deep, curling just enough to make your back arch. He set a pace immediately: firm, unrelenting, no mercy.

“You’ve got a smart mouth,” he grunted, watching your face, “but look at you now. Drippin’ all over my fuckin’ hand.”

Your breath hitched, a choked moan slipping past your lips. You reached for his wrist without thinking, fingers digging into his forearm like that might slow him down.

He didn’t slow. He leaned in, lips at your ear.

“Beg for it,” he whispered. “Beg me to make you come.”

You clenched around his fingers involuntarily, breath catching. He felt it. Of course he did. He bent down lower, his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“Go on, sweetheart. You were so loud a minute ago.”

You swallowed hard. Bit your lip and shook your head.

“No?” he asked, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Shame.”

And then his fingers slowed, still inside you, still curled just right, but his pace dropped to a lazy rhythm. His thumb circling your clit with barely enough pressure to keep you teetering. It was maddening. Close, but not enough. 

“You can wait, then,” he said coolly, like it was a casual choice. “I’ve got all night.”

You whimpered, hips twitching. He didn’t move faster. Didn’t budge. His free hand came up and gripped your chin, tilting your face toward him until your eyes met his.

“You wanna come?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

You nodded quickly.

“Then ask me.”

“Please,” you breathed. “Fuck, please, John…”

“Please what?”

“Please make me come. I need it. Fuck, I need you.”

That was the switch.

His smile returned with a dark satisfaction. The hand between your legs snapped back to work. Fast. Precise. His fingers plunged into you, curling up, while his other hand went to your throbbing clit. His thumb pressed firm, relentless circles against it. You cried out, the heat building in a dizzying rush, all control ripped away like paper in a storm.

“That’s it, good girl,” he growled. “Just like that. Let me hear you.”

You clutched at the sheets, back arching, the orgasm tearing through you so hard you saw stars. And he didn’t stop, not right away. He worked you through it, dragging every last tremble out of your body, until you were gasping and twitching, his name somewhere between a sob and a moan on your lips.

To be continued...

Jujutsu Kaisen 0: Movie → Nanami Kento, Grade 1 Jujutsu sorcerer

I AM SCREAMING!!!!!!!!

Lately, I have been in love with Inasa Yaorashi. That windy boi is so adorable. With this love came headcannons galore! I want more screen/page time for him!

🌪 Inasa loves dresses. For the same reason he wears a cape. The way the fabric dances in the wind is memorizing. Skirts too. They all just look so cool when he gets the winds really blowing!

🌪 He loves long hair, on other people. He keeps his short, for obvious reasons. Gets tangled fast. Now that’s not to say that he exclusively likes long hair, it’s just preferred. He thinks short hair is cute when it gets tousled in the breeze. However, the way long hair looks blowing around is his favorite.

🌪 Inasa loves to dance. He is not particularly good at it, and he knows it. He loves doing it. If someone offered to teach him, like Mina, he would be down to learn. Dance is a great way to express one’s PASSION!

That’s all I have for now! I’m sure I will come up with more. Being in quarantine has got my creativity blood pumping! I have been writing non stop! I have a story going, but probably won’t finish it. Too many drabbles.

This won’t go over well with a lot of you, but you all are gonna rant than so am I!

It’s gonna be a long one, so buckle up. A number of people really don’t like Yashahime. I see so many people who are upset and saying the story is poorly done fan fiction. Saying such things because the writers are using stories from the manga and replacing the characters. Saying the characters, like Setsuna and Towa, are flat. That they are Mary Sue type characters. That Moroha is just a jester. Someone to poke fun at. That she doesn’t care about her parents or who they are.

ARE THEY FUCKING BLIND?!

They want the show to display a fairytale happy ending for the characters they love. WELL I HAVE NEWS FOR THESE PEOPLE!! FAIRYTALE ENDINGS DON’T MAKE GOOD STORIES! Not even FAIRYTALES are written that way. They want Sunrise to start the series off with the whole gang dancing around singing kumbaFUCKINGya! This is a ridiculous notion to have. A naive and simple minded one at best. They cry because they don’t get to see their beloved characters. They whine because the story doesn’t match what they had envisioned. NEWS FLASH! Many of the people writing, animating, and voicing this series are the ones who were apart of the original. This is what THEY envisioned. This is their dream. HOW DARE YOU DEFILE THEIR ART WITH SUCH PREPOSTEROUS ACCUSATIONS!

This is how good stories start. You throw the characters into the fire, watch them crawl through it, and emerge from the other side with resolve. Our characters got their happy ending. We saw it. However, life continues on. The OG gang lives during a time of demons and that world did not end with Naraku’s death. He was not the end all, be all of demons. He was not a LORD. He was not a ruler of lands. He was a pitiful HUMAN man with hate in his heart that sold his soul for power and the love of a woman he would never be able to grasp. Just because we did not see the good times, does not mean they were not there. We saw the start of it. As I have been told by someone, that is what imagination is for. We use our imagination to develop stories of how they lived their lives afterwards. Up until the point it all went to shit again. We are thrown into the story when it begins to unfold. That is why we see the story of the girls. We see the world through their eyes just as we did with Kagome and the others. It appears patchy and inconsistent because that’s how they see it! They don’t know the full story, so why should we. As an audience, we already know so much more than they do.

This story has just begun, do these ignorant twits really expect to be spoon feed every damn detail. I get the frustration of wanting to see the OG characters happy. I want nothing more than see the beautiful family life of Sesshomaru and Rin. I want nothing more than to see the loving and chaotic relationship between Inuyasha, Kagome, and Moroha. I want nothing more than to see Sango and Miroku raising their children. I WANT THAT TOO! However, this story is NOT ABOUT THAT! It is about the hellfire that rained down on them. It is about the hardships that both the old and new cast had to suffer through. It is about what happened after the fairytale ended. We don’t have answers, because it just started! It took 193 EPISODES of Inuyasha for the story to be completed. ONE HUNDRED AND NINETY-THREE! We are on episode 11, going on 12, of Yashahime! I for one believe there will be more than 1 season. These artists are not known for short and sweet stories. If they end the story abruptly, IT’S BECAUSE OF THE TOXIC DISCOURSE THAT IS FLOODING THE STREETS! Believe in the writing and have faith that our questions will be answered. This is a story across time and it will take time to tell it.

Moroha will have her spotlight. We will see her rise to the occasion. She does care about her parents and who they are. I know this, in my heart, to be true.

Setsuna and Towa will regain their memory and be reunited with their family. Even if it is not how we pictured it.

Hisui and Kohaku are rebuilding their family business. They are following in the footsteps of their ancestors. We will see that story as well.

We will see what happened to the others, we just have to show patience and faith. Even if it does not align with our fandom’s dreams. Our dreams are ones of happiness, delusions, and self insertions. We are not the authors of this story. We are the fans. We are not going to like every single facet of this story. So many of us have changed the story with fan fictions. Our minds have warped and manipulated this story into something that is not aligned with the story that is being published. AND WE NEED TO GET OVER IT. Stop harping on these childish fantasies and understand that it is a story. Not a story of your life, but a story of characters that you did not create. So in the end, you do not get to decide their fates.

Come at me if you want. However, I will not entertain your delusions.

eri ✩ episode 86

Coming into a fandom late

I’m not sure if my ask sent yesterday or it got eaten by tumblr? If so I’m sorry about that! I hope you’re having a good day!? I’m just about to start trying to get some writing done! - 💐

My day was good. The quarantine is starting to make me antsy. Doing my best to keep cool. Writing and watching some nostalgic anime is helping. Hope your writing is going well!

My pieces for SESSRIN Calendar set. Thank you @sessriniscanon  Art © Me

Characters © Rumiko Takahashi