#”because you’re a puppet. My puppet”

[fixated-cookies]

Hear me out...

A reader who has more stamina than shmilk and PV

I need to see your take on that.

Also can I be your 🎂 anon

hmmm thought inducing

MDNI Shadow milk reaction? At first, he’s cocky. Shadow Milk Cookie thinks of course he can outlast you—he’s ancient, he’s deceit incarnate, he's probably cheated time itself. He’s laughing, teasing, pinning you down with those silky, shadowy strings like: "Poor little thing, you’ll be crying for mercy by dawn~"

But two rounds later? He’s the one trembling. He’s gritting his teeth, trying not to beg for a break, panting into your neck while your hips keep moving like you’re possessed. "You—You little fiend— slow down—slow down, nghh!"

He gets so frustrated too because he wants to keep his dignity, his jester flair—wants to keep teasing you, but he’s sobbing by the fourth round, clinging to you like a puppet with broken strings. You completely milk him dry, and even then, you’re still twitching against him, hungry for more. "You—you greedy little thing! Ohh, how I hate—hahh—love you..." At the end, he’s just draped over you, drooling, absolutely limp, whispering threats he has no energy to carry out while your hips roll lazily against his sensitive cock.

Pure vanilla's reaction on the other hand? He'll be sooo sweet about it—at first.

He’s trying. He’s really trying.

He’s stroking your hair between kisses, murmuring sweet words against your skin as he moves inside you slow and deep—and he thinks he’s doing fine! You're moaning so prettily, clinging to him—

And then you don't stop. You don’t let him pull out. You keep pulling him back in. "W-wait—hahh—beloved—beloved, please—" He comes once, twice, thrice—and you’re still gasping against him, still grinding sweetly like you’re trying to siphon more out of him. He’s whimpering now, so sensitive his whole body shudders with every squeeze, but you’re so soft, so needy, so affectionate that he can’t say no.

"Just one more?" you whisper, all sweet and sleepy.

And of course he surrenders immediately. He hugs you close, tears misting at the corners of his eyes from how overwhelming it feels, and gently rocks into you even when he’s delirious from pleasure.

At the end, he’s collapsed completely on top of you, hugging you to his chest, cock still twitching weakly inside you. His voice is wrecked but still so full of love. "You’re... insatiable... my precious one..."

[shelly-vision]

Welcome Home Cow Tools Theory: the weirdest Welcome Home theory you’ll ever see.

Hi. Welcome to my dumbass theory. Please hear me out on this.

So, in case you’re somehow unaware, Clown and Huck just held a Q&A about Welcome Home. Among the many silly questions and sillier answers, user can of maple beans asked the following question.

And attached to the answer was this image.

Now, the common response to this would naturally be “wut?” But unfortunately I spend too much time online and as such, it didn’t take me long to remember what the reference was.

Now, this probably makes things more confusing to some people. Luckily I’m here to explain it.

BUT

Before I do, I need to post the other Q&A prompt that will be relevant to this discussion.

Please put a pin in this for later. Now, I will explain Cow Tools.

Cow Tools is a one-panel comic from the series “the Far Side” by Gary Larson released in October of 1982. The Far Side consists of similar one-panel comics all telling some silly punchline. However, Cow Tools goes beyond that. The joke of the panel is very simple. The idea is that if cows made tools, they’d probably be weird and unsophisticated. However, a lot of people didn’t understand it. Upon the debut of Cow Tools, the phones of the newspaper company that published it didn’t stop ringing for nearly two days straight as people were continuously calling to ask what the joke was. This lack of understanding caused severe backlash and hate to form for Cow Tools. To put it in simpler terms, this simple thing was over complicated by people, causing them to not understand it, and in response, they turned their lack of understanding into hate. However, decades later, Cow Tools found its audience among the internet, as the sheer absurdity of the comic makes it a somewhat popular anti-joke.

Now, I bet you’re wondering, “Overwhelmingly niche tumblr user and Total Drama fanfiction writer Shelly_Vision, what does anything about Cow Tools have to do with Welcome Home, let alone the homophobia discussion you told us to put a pin in? Surely the joke Clown and Huck were making with Julie Tools is just that it’s meaningless and meant to be a non-answer, right?” And that is probably true. I probably am overanalyzing and all of this could be meaningless. However I hyperfixate way too much and said hyperfixatuon leads me to come up with theories that might mean utter nonsense. But the small chance remains that I’m onto something. So because of that, I will now present what this theory is truly about with my full chest.

Julie Tools tells us the exact reason why the show Welcome Home was cancelled. Yes I am completely serious and allow me to explain.

Let’s ask ourselves this: why was Julie Tools posted in response to asking if romance would be a part of Welcome Home’s story? What does Cow Tools have to do with romance?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Cow Tools, as a comic, has nothing to do with romance. The content of the comic itself is meaningless. What we need to do here is not apply the comic to romance, but to apply the comic’s *reception* to romance.

Now is when we need to return to the homophobia discussion. Welcome Home as a show released in the 70s. Back then, the general audience didn’t understand queer people and turned the lack of understanding into hate. What romance would result in this puppet show getting immense backlash?

A queer romance.

Yes I am fully serious in saying that this random reference to Cow Tools is meant to tell us that Welcome Home was cancelled and all mention of it was scrubbed away due to backlash from its inclusion of queer characters. Backlash and hatred of something simple that the public didn’t understand and decided to hate it because of that.

Dear reader, why would all of this stuff about Welcome Home resurface in the 2020s? Because just like how Cow Tools didn’t find its audience until decades after it was published, Welcome Home didn’t find its audience until now. In a day and age where queer people are accepted. And it seems a lot of queer people are drawn to this project.

Welcome Home is (at least partially) about queer erasure. I’ve had a feeling this would be the case for years now but this just strengthens by certainty in it.

Alright now for the more speculative parts of the theory. My main point was the general queer erasure stuff, now I want to get a little more into character stuff.

So first off, why is it Julie Tools? It feels like Frank and Eddie are more overtly queer characters, and while Julie still is very queer coded, it’s not as overt as characters like Frank, Eddie, Sally, or Poppy. Julie’s queer coding is mostly limited to her interactions with Sally. (See my Julie character analysis for more elaboration.) Well, here’s something purely speculative. As shown in the most recent update, Julie is someone who often feels like her only value is in what she can do for others. So, what if, on the cusp of the general public discovering Frank and/or Eddie and/or Poppy and/or Sally is queer, Julie outs herself as a form of self-sacrifice. That way the general public forgets its speculations about the others and all the backlash ends up being directed to Julie’s character instead? This feels kind of reachy but hey maybe I’m onto something. Uh the mentions of nonstop phone ringing reminded me of Wally’s connection to phones, tho that one’s definitely unrelated. Also seeing the Q&A show Julie in Y2K fashion and Sally in Y3K fashion felt extremely yuri to me and I’m adding that to the pile of sapphic hints. Maybe the always and clumsy nature of the tools represents awkward and clumsy romantic feelings? Yeah at this point I’m reaching.

TLDR: the in-universe show of Welcome Home was cancelled and all mention of it was scrubbed from the world because of its queer characters. I may be drowning in my autism and hyperfixation.

[linkbetweenlinksau]

the newest update released at a time where i was busy so i wasn't able to comment about it but I AM NOW BECAUSE AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

i loveeeee the hw link and botw link duo SOOOO MUCH. they are truly so underrated but YOU GAVE THEM SO MUCH JUSTICE AHHHHHH IM IN LOVE LIKE

THEM...... "scarf boy" IM IN TEARS this is my favorite panel of all time. i love how joyus wild is he's so silly. so is warriors, i see that confusion and i am LOVING IT thank you for this comic i hold it so dear to my heart

i lovee the way you made the scenes so tense too, warriors doing all of his wise conspiracy about how they ended up, the puppeteer and their role in all of this... wild being hesitant on his reasoning because he's so unsure if thats really whats going on, AND THEN THE WOLF

twi crashed the party guys. we gotta do something about that

anyways sorry if my thoughts are all jumbled, i wanted to send you an ask about the update for HOURS and now i can and i just hope you know that i love your work soooo much. you are soo great at making stories and what not, you should be proud!!!!

okay im gonna shut up now lmao BYEE <33

Aaaah thank you so much for the sweet message djekebksbsksbsjs 🥺🥺🥺🥺 it means a lot to me!!!! I’m having fun jumbling these two together cuz while they aren’t opposites they aren’t alike at all. Wild is… well… wild and does his own thing his own way, while Wars is a bit more strict on how things are done. They’re fun!! And yes, Wolfie came in to ruin everything XD I love you doggo

Anyways I appreciate the ramble. I’d love the hear everyone’s thoughts on the update cuz I do put a lot of time and care into the art and story (unless you’re a sword apparently 😔)! Anyways I meant to respond a while ago but I didn’t so I guess this makes two of us XD

[kifaprokumiv]

Combining my obscure 2005 toxic yuri into one

[elviraaxen]

💋💚🩷

[shorthaltsjester]

being a huge fan of tlou but also like. thinking that certain stories are built for certain mediums. like the entire theme of tlou2 is grounded and fresh because it’s a railroad/story video game that still affords you mechanical choices in how you navigate the world. i just don’t have a lot of confidence that presenting that story in a tv show with the minimal adjustments that they did in s1 will be fulfilling or compelling in any comparable way. because with tlou1 some of the like. beauty of that story was simply that it was such an emotive story contained in the medium of video games. and some of that was retained just by hitting similar or expanded emotional beats in the show, like the episodes that expanded on the life of the characters and the realities of that world. but truly so much of tlou2 emotional depth and ‘why does this story matter’ rests in the fact that’s it’s your hands on the controller, continually choosing to go forward in the story and have hope that it will work out in your-as-ellie-or-abby-or-somehow-booth’s favour. and you simply cannot get that in a non-interactive medium like television. like i do think tlou2 is a good story but it’s a good story because of the investment required by the player to keep pressing buttons and keep returning and to feel the adrenaline like responses of high intensity moments and be jarringly shifted into backstories that only increase the frustration. in general i’ve been thinking a lot about cross-medium adaptation and on the one hand i am glad that season 1 makes the story of the last of us more accessible to people who wouldn’t pick up a video game but it’s also like. maybe instead we can destigmatize video games as this inaccessible and dangerous medium a bit more instead of just . implicitly agreeing . like no maybe your mom won’t pick up a video game controller and play the last of us . but maybe you can play the game in the living room. sometimes the mediums that stories are told in aren’t just important but are actually foundational parts of how the information of a story is conveyed and that’s not only okay but is fucking fantastic. we should be happy actually that there are so many ways to collect a bunch of themes and ideas and put them together and hold them out to someone else and say “won’t you consider this with me. won’t you feel these emotions and care about these characters with me.”

[gojooooo]

pookie he’s so offended 😭 i just know sukuna would go eheheheh yes brat you should thank me if he heard this exchange

[missdynamighttt]

AGHHH sitting on bf! katsuki's shoulders while he cooks to make up for skipping the gym.

katsuki was supposed to hit the gym today. he really was. but the moment you wrapped yourself around him in bed, all thoughts of training went out the window.

“shit,” he muttered, stretching his arms above his head. “didn’t even work out today.”

you, still groggy but entirely unrepentant, grinned and nuzzled into his neck. “you worked out your patience.”

"yeah? and you worked out my ability to say no.”

you grinned wider. “exactly.”

even after every time he tried to move to adjust himself, you clung to him like a koala, nuzzling into his chest, whining about how warm and comfortable he was. and damn it, how was he supposed to leave when you looked so damn cute?

so yeah, gym? skipped. gains? delayed. but cuddles? so fucking worth it.

now, in the kitchen, katsuki is making up for it. sort of. with you sitting comfortably on his broad shoulders.

he'd already deadlifted you a few times while waiting for the pancake to cook, grumbling half-heartedly when you cheered like he was performing in the olympics.

"you're way too happy about this," he muttered, flipping a pancake with precision despite your weight balanced on his shoulders.

"that's because you're my personal chef now," you teased, playing with the strands of his hair like you were styling them. "and i'm basically remy."

"tch... the rat from ratatouille?"

"yeah!"

he snorted, shaking his head slightly to mess up whatever you were doing. "the hell you are. you ain't cookin’ shit."

"excuse you! i am the mastermind behind this whole operation, thank you very much. you're just my hands."

katsuki rolled his eyes, but he couldn't hide the smirk tugging at his lips. "yeah? then where's my little chef hat, huh?"

you gasped dramatically. "oh my god, we need to get you one!"

"like hell we do," he scoffed, adjusting his grip on your legs as he effortlessly lifted you up again, just because he could. you let out a small squeak, gripping onto his hair, and he chuckled.

"okay, okay, you're strong, we get it," you laughed, ruffling his hair. "now, my strong, muscular, incredibly attractive boyfriend—flip that pancake before it burns."

“i ain't lettin’ you control me," katsuki clicked his tongue but did as you commanded, all while holding you up like you weighed nothing. he should’ve gone to the gym today, sure—but honestly? this was way better.

"i practically do," you tug lightly on his hair, and to your delight, his head moves slightly in the direction you pull.

katsuki freezes. “...did you just try to steer me like a damn car?”

you laugh. “maybe.”

“hmph, you’re lucky i love you,” he mutters, adjusting your weight like it’s nothing. “but if you try to puppet-master me again, i’m droppin’ your ass.”

you grin, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “i love you too. and no you won’t.”

katsuki sighs, but you feel his shoulders shake with a quiet chuckle. yeah, okay, maybe he won’t.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ saw this on twt but i cant find the video again☹️☹️ hope you enjoyed!!💜

[holeforzenin]

Tw- STEPCEST, Toji refers himself as DAD. Not proofread

Stepdad Toji patting his lap, wordlessly signaling you to come and sit on it from across the room. You waste no time settling yourself onto his large thighs, your skirt riding up to your upper thighs and exposing a lot more skin than you would be comfortable with.

But his hands find your hips almost instantly and he lifts you and shifts you higher up his crotch— directly ontop his growing bulge before nonchalantly resuming his attention back on the TV as if it's nothing.

And whenever you’d try to get up, telling him it’s time for you to go do your homework, he’s possessively wrapping his beefy arm tighter around your waist to bring you closer against his broad chest, hand roaming your bare thighs while pressing his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and telling you “Going so soon sweetheart? Don't you want to sit more with me.”

You whined under his grasp, the tension making your body heat up as his growing erection digs into your warm core, It’s as if his cock has a mind of its own, seeking warmth from your clothed cunt.

You never meant to be this “close” with Toji but it's genuinely as if he casted a spell on you or something because you're always seemingly obeying and doing whatever he says like some puppet. You assume it must be the fact that he's well aware of your daddy issues and using it to his advantage.

His hand snakes its way up to your thighs again, this time under the hem of your skirt, his rough fingers grazing the soft skin there.

You bit your lips, torn between the need to focus on your studies and the sheer desire to stay right where you are, perched on his lap like some fucking temptress because you already know he's gonna call you a brat if you don't listen but it’s your homework so he's going to have to understand right?

“Sorry Toji, I really should go do my homework,” you pleaded, your voice cracking slightly because of how nervous the situation made you.

He chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through his big chest and into your body. “Homework can wait, sweetheart. Don't you wanna spend some time with your old man?.” there's no way he couldn't feel the immediate throbbing of your cunt on top of his cock when he said that. “I’m not getting any younger as the days go by, ya know.”

His free hand tilted your chin upwards, forcing your gaze to meet his. A taunting smirk played on his lips with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He knew exactly the effect he had on you and now he's taking advantage of you for it.

He adjusts his hold on you, moving you slightly on top of him and leaning back against the soft couch and pulling you along with him until you’re straddling him. His erection is pressed right at the entrance of your leaking cunt through the fabric of your panties and you're 100% sure that there's a wet stain forming on his crotch.

You let out a soft grasp, your hands instinctively gripping his massive shoulders.

“See, much better,” he rumbled, his breath fanning across your collarbone, making you shiver. “Just stay here and enjoy the movie with me and Dad will help you with your homework later, yeah?”.

He's definitely not helping you with your homework, Lmao.

[oceantornadoo]

lowkey public humiliation kink? sugar daddy (dark) simon riley x f!reader. nipple piercings. terrible daddy kink and this is literally just smut without smut

au where you’re simon riley’s sugar baby and utterly embarrassed to be because he’s so public. insists on taking you to popular restaurants seated in a center booth, like he knows your bullies from high school picked today for their weekly lunch date. orders oysters and hand feeds them to you, licking the salty corners of your mouth afterwards before slipping a hundred dollar bill between your tits. no shadowy corners or dark bars - you’re lingerie shopping in broad daylight, eyes skittering when you see an old teacher you once had at a rack near you. it would be fine if he was your boyfriend, had some stake in the game, but he’s the puppet master pulling the strings.

“would pay a grand to see my cum on y’r tits in this, love.”

he holds a dark blue lace bra to your chest, groping you through the cups of it like he’s trying to see it fit. the store worker can only gape next to you, before shaking her head and gathering three more similar styles in your size. he’s such a dog and you can’t say no because you need the money desperately, thoughts of your previous shitty apartment in an even shittier neighborhood floating through your head.

now, you live in a high rise with floor to ceiling windows. he pays you more when you let him fuck you against them, naked tits against glass as the rough feel of his denim grinds into your ass with every thrust. there’s no clear rules with him, not anything like you’ve seen on sugar baby forums and tip sites. he doesn’t give you an amount for each action, simply an overstuffed envelope on the table when he eventually leaves.

“how much to get these pierced?” he pinches your nipple through the bikini top you’re wearing, interrupting your relaxed suntanning on your apartment balcony. “simon.” your frustration bleeds into your lack of forethought. he raises an eyebrow by a hair. “say that again, baby?” you bite your lip and look down, already regretting your mistake. “i’m sorry, daddy. you caught me off guard.” he grunts. simon tugs your tit out of its nylon confines and tugs it this way and that in the sunlight, pinching like he’s imagining a piercing. “didn’t answer my question, pet.” you question where your limits are. if you even have any at this point. he’s bulldozed through every wall you’ve put up, but his money and sheer presence protects you no matter what. sure, you’re topless on your balcony, but he bought you the penthouse so no one above you could see.

what can he give you that you don’t have? any debt has been paid, retirement accounts funded, enough clothes and bags to last a lifetime. you want something immaterial, some proof you’re not like the others.

“i want exclusivity. and i want to know where you’re going when you’re not here.” his hands don’t stop, moving to your other breast to free it as well. it’s somehow more obscene to still be wearing your top, tight fabric pushing your hardened nipples out like you’re presenting yourself to him, asking for attention. “can’t tell ya where i go, pet. got lots of enemies, matter of security.” you frown at the rejection. his hand moves to the soft expanse of your stomach, groping the fat there like playdoh. “ask f’r somethin’ else.” he doesn’t mention the exclusivity. you don’t want to ruin it by asking again.

“i want to see you shirtless.” you murmur. he always fucks you with his shirt on. t-shirt, button-up, wifebeater - it doesn’t matter. he’s stripped you down to his own personal puppet and you want something back. “after y’r tits heal, maybe.” you frown harder as his hand slides down to cup your cunt. there’s a wet spot on the light pink fabric of your bikini bottom and he presses it into you. you keen, arching at the sensation. “since i can’t play with your tits, you’ll wear no clothes when i’m home. understand?” he taps your cunt to get your attention. you want to protest but his dark brown eyes are so forceful, beating you into submission.

when you get them pierced (by a handsy man named johnny who insisted on ‘checking for lumps’ five seperate times while simon grunted in the corner), simon insists on cleaning them for you. he makes you open your mouth and hold a bill there on your tongue while he cleans them. you only get to keep them if you don’t make a sound while he touches the raw area, saline solution dripping between your tits. it’s pocket change and at this point money is immaterial, but you want to please your daddy so badly.

a few weeks later and his non-answer to your exclusivity question rings in your head incessantly. it’s there when he stops mid-fuck to take a call and when he sits you on his lap facing forward while he spreads paperwork on your bare back. he’s been “called in” (whatever that means) and is counting cash when you finally give in.

“daddy?” simon grunts, eyes on his wallet. “you never…” you trail off, suddenly unsure. abandoning his cash counting, he drops a black card on the table before turning to you. you’ve been naked all week but suddenly feel exposed, stripped bare. “spit it out, baby. time is money.” against your will, you roll your eyes at his joke. “now that i got them pierced…you never answered when i asked about exclusivity.” he approaches the chair your huddled on and tilts your chin up with a gloved finger.

“you’re the only girl i pay, pet.” you swallow hard. “and what about the ones you don’t?” his eyes search yours, looking for something. “don’t have any tha’ i don’t. got tha’ in y’r pretty ‘ead?” you nod eagerly, ignoring the slight burn in your tits as they bounce. “yes, daddy.”

“good. buy y’rself some toys when im gone, don’t wantcha too eager when im back.” there’s no bite in his tone, so you grin eagerly.

“bye, pet.” he pulls you in for a messy kiss. you’ve give it as good as you can, saliva connecting your lips as you part. his eyes track it as it falls down your bare chest. you open your legs a bit, giving him a glimpse of the wetness between them. “bye, daddy.”

“fuckin’ minx.”

-

follow for notifications: @tornadoowarning

originally made this about john price but slimy rabid simon is my favorite. i had a dream about sugar daddy john (mainly from this fic) and then this was born (i’m PMS horny)

also pls take care of your piercings

[yameoto]

kiramman motherdaughter double-team

tw; cassandra + caitlyn x f!reader, pussyfucking, voyeurism, masturbation, objectification, gagging, being passed around on kiramman cock, mommy issues, family dynamics, no incest unless you count their cum mixing inside you. wc; 2.8k

“my daughter is quite fond of you,” cassandra muses thoughtfully, like you’re not ass-up, pussy-clenched, bent over on the kiramman desk; two, slender, pale fingers elegantly fucking the juices out of your cunt.

while you’d love to engage in mommy gossip over tea, your pretty little head isn’t quite capable of doing more than blindly rut back against gloved fingers. even if your ears perk up at the mention.

“what does that—ngh— fuck—“

“language, darling.” cassandra slaps your cunt, hard. you hiss, arching back, traitorous pussy deciding it really fucking likes that, and sending a surge of wetness gushing out and dripping over her palm. you arch back, and the retort making its way out of your mouth is rudely interrupted by the way she deftly folds her fingers into a fist. quelled, you settle down, thighs still stinging.

"and i suppose—mmgh—she didn’t—hah.. tell you?”

“no, but i know.” cassandra hums, index hooking. your eyes roll back, as cassandra continues to muse. or, pretend to muse. you’ve been under her thumb long enough to know every twitch of her expression, every dip in her tone, every curl of her finger—is calculated, and intentional. “her gaze lingers."

“she doesn't mind that her mother takes home girls her own age?” you pant, squirming away from cassandra’s hand as she pinches your thigh.

“girl.”  cassandra corrects, gloved hand leisurely grasping you by the chin and pinning it upwards, to face her, unable to squirm away from the steely jade of her eyes. girl, singular. it’s nothing close to ooey-and-gooey affection, but the clarification makes your heart glow nonetheless, heat flooding to every buzzing cell in your body. it also makes you pathetically, impossibly wetter. cassandra smiles as you gush around her fingers, nerves humming under her touch.

“she wouldn’t. so long as i turn a blind eye to the unending stream of conquests she has in and out of her room.” cassandra sighs, flicking against your clit. you arch upwards off of satin sheets, thighs quivering—and cassandra only takes the opportunity to thrust her digits further upwards. you thrash, like puppet thrust upon a stick.

“takes after her mother,” you gasp, and her chuckle is a pinch less poised than usual. “suppose she does, hm?"

you cum all over her gloved fingers, silk soaked to the bone.

to be perfectly honest, you were only half-lucid during that whole affair. can you blame you? one can only concentrate so much when you’re being finger-fucked to oblivion on a councillor’s desk. you hadn’t thought much of cassandra’s words, or caitlyn’s supposed fascination in you. until, well—

“mother, i don't see what could have possibly warranted dragging me out of office just to—”

the moment you come into sight, caitlyn stops, mid-way through flicking the stub of a pen, up-and-down with boredom borne vigour. she’s draped over one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace, head tilted back, elbow lent lazily over the side of the seat. she straightens, gaze flickering between you and her mother.

you stare at caitlyn. she stares back, alabaster-cut cheekbones flushing a dark-hued pink.

cassandra slinks into the other armchair, one leg draping elegantly over the other. “i told you it’d be worth the wait.” she teases, easily, superiority exuding out of her every pore. caitlyn is stock-still; a deer frozen in the headlights, because surely her mother can’t mean—

“look at her, darling.” cassandra beckons you closer, and you fall into step, obedient. her cryptic smile, widens—gloved hand outstretching, to skim the silken fabric up your thighs. her nail drags upwards, and both caitlyn and you visibly shiver. “hot, wet and inviting.”

caitlyn bites her lip, conflict playing out comically over her face, like a gargantuan tent isn’t rising at her crotch. for one, she loathes to concede any victory to her mother. on the other..

(gods, how caitlyn has wanted and wanted. it's shameful. she’s caught glimpses of you, throughout the estate, for the past year. flitting in and out, from her mother’s room—her office, sometimes. the thought should make her nose wrinkle and gaze avert, like it had done so, with all the other women her mother used to bring home. yet, you.

the pull you have is magnetic. perhaps, that’s why she hasn’t seen a single other verdant soul grace her mother’s bedsheets, since you. not that she makes a habit of peeking. it’s just—she’s wondered. she’s wondered, with her hand wrapped her dick and croons muffled by her sheets, how you’d feel around her cock, instead. because she swears that nightgown her mother lent you used to be hers, and the thought of it—skimming up your thighs, dampening against the hot flush of your cunt—

caitlyn is spry, young, quick-witted— and admittedly hormonal. she’s in the prime of her life, and the prime of her libido; too. deathly curious, too, what has made her mother come back to you—over and over and over again. what’s so special about you that you’ve made caitlyn cum into her fist, over and over again, despite never sparing her more than a second glance.)

“you can’t seriously expect me to..” caitlyn splutters, cheeks blooming red. “now? here? in front of you?”

“don’t act all shy, now. for a decorated enforcer, your sleuthing skills are lackluster."

caitlyn burns, bright-red. she's well-aware of the incident her mother is talking about. that was once. besides! she thought someone was being impaled on a stake, in there, for gods' sake. she’d almost brought the guards!

“besides," cassandra rolls her wrist, idly, "you think i’d let you handle precious goods unattended? you could break her.”

both you and caitlyn bristle; you, at the suggestion that you could be broken by this kiramman girl who is certainly fit, mind you—but break? really? caitlyn, at the dig at her self-restraint. through she’d probably smart at any barb her mother threw at her her.

“i can be delicate.” it’s like the implication is the nail in the coffin, and she’s undoing her trousers with exaggerated reluctance, like her fingers aren’t quivering in contained eagerness. “don’t look.” she demands of her mother, like a child slipping into the fitting room. the buckles of her enforcer uniform come undone, and a flash of inky-blue trim sends the hairs raising at the nape of your neck, especially when caitlyn’s fly falls away and her thighs splay open, hand curling around her base and tugging her dick out and—oh.

now, you understand why you might break.

caitlyn is.. well-endowed. (oh, cassandra is rubbing off on you in more ways than one). her length itself clean-shaven, like her mother—and the smooth, erect forth of her cock practically preens under the attention, blue-green veins climbing up its trunk. her tip is flushed a brilliant pink, and for all caitlyn’s feigned nonchalance; precum builds a shiny glaze at its slit, at the precipice of gushing out. she tucks her trousers below her balls, eyes flitting over to meet her mother’s, stare flaring to one of defiance.

caitlyn scowls, but you can't help but notice the shallow pace of her breath—the way her forearms tense, rapid fluttering beating at your chest. can't help but notice the way her cock throbs, tall and aching, and how she can't tear her eyes off of you.

“go on, dear.” cassandra urges, sly, and you startle, because you've almost gotten lost in being a passenger to the kiramman’s family squabbles—forgotten that for now, all you’re sinking onto her daughter’s cock. caitlyn gasps, hips jerking upwards.

she's hesitant, at first; rolling her hips, experimentally, and you suppress a gasp when her cock slips deeper, unintentionally. caitlyn grunts, and when she starts going she starts going, because—fuck—can you blame her? she gets lost in the ocean of your pussy, how it swallows her, and her mother is right. hot, wet, and inviting.

you can't deny you're enjoying this. each moan that caitlyn dislodges from your throat is even more encouragement for her dick to plunge deeper, length to stretch you wider. perhaps it’s unjust—but even as your head falls back and you whine in approval, shivers crackling down your body—you can't help but compare the two, just a little. (cassandra's motions have always been painstakingly controlled. each crook of a finger, curl of a knuckle, thrust of her cock; carefully poised, deliberate, and intentional. caitlyn, on the other hand—is fluid and freestyle and just a little sloppy. her ruts driving with a shaky force, like she's trying her damndest best to keep a rhythm but is trembling with the effort to hold on and not just plow into your cunt like a jackhammer. she's good. you can tell caitlyn has done this before, many times. just, perhaps not as many times, as her mother.)

"darling, posture." 

caitlyn freezes, balls-deep. her head lifts in gobsmacked disbelief at her mother's voice, hands remaining clamped down over your thighs, dick twitching. you stifle a mewl at the loss of friction.

"posture?"  caitlyn parrots, eyes narrowing, even as her back goes ramrod and shoulders square on instinct, like an automatic response to her mothers’ tone. then, annoyed at her own reaction, caitlyn thrusts, hard, as if to prove a point. the both of them ignore your subsequent whimper. “my posture is just fine, thank you very much.”

cassandra's nails drum against your collarbones, hand still carding through your hair. it takes everything in you not to nuzzle upwards into the offering, because you know cassandra despises your neediness. loves it, too. but you're not quite in the position to test how she feels, today.

“is it just fine, dear one?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, harshly, as caitlyn’s thrusts come in rhythmic slams, the other girl’s pants almost as uneven as your own. “i—nghhm—yes.”

“and is my daughter treating you well?”

caitlyn scoffs, but her hands tighten on your hips, nails digging crescent indents into skin. your eyes flicker open to meet caitlyn’s own, and you’re expecting to find that beautiful, forever, narrowed-eye glare of hers that is so instantly recognisable.

instead, what greets you is fawn-like cerulean; wide and imploring. approval-seeking, under her mother’s scrutiny—under your control. it’s like she’s holding her breath, even as the slams of her hips.

“ngh, caitlyn—“ you gasp, like a prayer, and the kiramman heir seems to dissolve at the sound of her name on your tongue, wobbling as she clings to your hips like she might just die if she were to be separated.

her throat bobs, and her hips shudder, a low groan wracking her body. and, and—

“don't finish.” cassandra interjects, command rolling off her tongue, firm and declarative, leaving no room for argument. “a little practice in self-control would be good for you.”

“mother,” caitlyn protests, elongated and pleading and irrestrainably whiney, like a toddler throwing a tantrum. her cheeks are blossomed red, flushed to the bone—strings of saliva connecting  the plump part of her lips as she ruts into you, grip bruising.

“don’t whinge.” cassandra admonishes, and caitlyn’s hiss is guttural, almost physically pained by the frustration—but she holds herself back nonetheless. “if you think i am having my daughter’s sloppy seconds, you think wrong.”

it’s as if the room has dropped in degrees. caitlyn, livid with the tension of what you can feel, drawn tight against the hot flush of your body. cassandra, whose gaze is as impenetrable and indomitable as ever. the both of them; cut-throat and frigid—like the meeting of stalagmites and stalactites, crashing into one another.

your pussy clenches, because gods, this is hot. caitlyn audibly lets slip a hiss, when your walls tighten around her poor, sensitive dick. it’s almost inevitable when she cracks, first. 

it’s that first twitch in her brow that waivers the white flag, and she her jaw tightens and her eyes go wild—before she forcibly wrenches herself out from you, eyes rolling back as her cock squelches free— promptly blows her load all over the carpet.

caitlyn folds to her knees, black-blue eyes peer upwards, both wounded and aggrieved; like the world has done her wrong by not having her cum inside of you. the way she’s positioned is almost heartstring wrenching—if it weren’t for how her hands curl around the base of her cock and she arches back and hisses, shamelessly jerking the rest of her high, off. thick, white spurts of cum splatter, some on the glossy wooden panels—but most on the carpet. carpet, worth some-twelve families’ fortunes and now marred by fat, creamy streaks of white, clinging to filaments that’ll indubitably harden come sunrise.

caitlyn pants, wiping spit with the back of her hand. her eyes meet her mother’s, satisfaction uncoiling in her gut, along with the leftovers drizzling from her tip.

“are you quite done?” cassandra exhales, as her daughter empties herself out over their living room floor.

“yes.” caitlyn says, petulant. her expression is as still as stone—yet anybody could see the smug gleam in her eye.(of course, a day doesn’t go past in piltover nowadays that that kiramman brat isn’t uttered. perhaps, the moniker has more truth to it than you’d thought.)

cassandra seems to torn whether this is the right time to discipline her daughter, though she doesn’t account for you and your incessant neediness, because you’d just been so full and now you’re so empty. it’s burning a hole right in the pits of your stomach, and you need to be filled. you need it. cassandra, for all her patience— has waited long enough.

your pussy opens up to cassandra’s cock with an obscene squelch, walls stretching, thighs quivering outwards as you welcome the familiar girth, and isn't that something? that coming home equivocates to cumming over her cock.

cassandra cants her hips upwards, just barely— and after the (sloppy, but earnest) viciousness of which caitlyn just fucked you; it's not enough.

“more—need—more, cass—“

poor choice of words. you should know better than to throw nicknames around so flippantly, around her daughter, no less. cassandra’s grey-tinged stare turns glacial. if there's anything she's has ever taught you—it’s how to be good.

"and just where did your manners go?” cassandra’s head slants, lips curling, and you know you’re in for it, now.

through glassy eyes and a heavy head—you watch as she peels the glove from her hand and—ah. they’re the ones from earlier. still filthy, drenched in your residue. it brings flush of shame to your cheeks—mouth opening to whine; yet you’re cut off by the way she swiftly stuffs them in your mouth. the salty proof of your lust shoves down the back of your throat. you choke. it stifles your mewling like a charm.

heavens. cassandra is struck by just how much she adores you, as she rocks you on her dick. your gaze; so glossy and starry and bright, tears burning behind your eyes around your gag. she goes slow—lulls you into a false sense of security with the gentleness in her pace—before she viciously drives her hips upwards every so often, and pounds. the push-and-pull is undoing. you gasp around your make-shift gag each and every time, making the most delicious sounds as you do so.

caitlyn has long since sulked back to the armchair at the side, watching the scene with as her dick twitches, still standing tall and proud as your slick glistens, coating its length. cassandra takes her time. not sparing a glance at her daughter, the pace of her teasing out the both of you. caitlyn grouches, grumbling to herself all the whole. the sounds that come out of your mouth are much less becoming.

“take it,” cassandra orders coolly, into your ear, weathered hands clasping your jaw. she twists herself in, and you buck with a gasp when you feel hotness flood through every being. cassandra grunts, and the slip-up is barely decipherable through the cotton in your head, but you can feel the way she pumps you full with her cum with complete clarity, spasming around her cock.

when cassandra finally empties herself–pushes you up, and off of her, her movements are gracious and dignified, as if she didn’t just fuck and fill you full until your pupils slipped back and your cunt oozing with white. by the time she's done, caitlyn has made another mess against mahogony, and the younger is too fucking desperate to even bother with the illusion of control. too desperate to give a single flying fuck about the fact her own mother's cum is pulsing out from your pussy in sticky waves, that the second you're out of cassandra's hands—you're in caitlyn's. she shoves you back on the rug, fireplace licking warmth against your cheeks—though its nothing compared to the roar of sheer, blinding sensation that blazes up your core when caitlyn rams her cock inside you. groaning, girth splitting you open as she mounts you, just like that, in the middle of the living room.

cassandra reclines, back against the armchair, cock hanging between her legs. her lips curve, upwards, and she takes a sip of her tea. she has more to give you, after all. she'll just have to ensure caitlyn doesn't snap you in two, first.

[wilwheaton]

In a long essay about the televised incident, Wheaton makes a lot of salient, emotionally vulnerable points about his reaction to David’s stunt, tying it in to memories of parental abuse he suffered as a kid—pointing out, among other things, that, within the agreed-upon fiction that we all adhere to pretty fervently around all things Muppet or Muppet-related, Elmo is a child. Writing, Wheaton notes that “Elmo is an avatar for children all over the world. Children who are too small to understand Elmo is a puppet will know that a man attacked someone they love for no reason, and that will frighten and confuse them.”

Wil Wheaton condemns Larry David for his Elmo-based violence

This story is a week old, and has blown up today. The right wing smoothbrains are out in force, doing their usual thing, until they get distracted by the existence of a successful woman somewhere in the world and have to go rage against that.

I don’t know why this is happening today. I don’t know why right wing clout chasing incels have decided to make this their Thing today. It’s all very confusing, especially a week after the fact.

But I want to put something here that I added to my post on Facebook, that those dudes (it’s always dudes whose entire personality is “MONSTER ENERGY DRINKS!”) need to hear but won’t understand:

A lot of us who had the same visceral reaction to a grown man putting his hands on a child (Elmo is 4 years old) in anger, without consent, and then laughing about it all share an experience that you should be grateful you don't share with us. And when you say your shitty little toxic and cruel thing, when you reduce the whole thing to a puppet and a joke, you're doing to us what the adults around us did when we were kids. And it hurts all over again. Are you really someone who wants to hurt another person simply because you can? Maybe take the impulse to be a jerk and redirect it into being grateful you have no idea why this is so upsetting to so many of us.

Larry David put his hands on another performer, without consent, in a segment he was not part of. That, alone, is not okay. It is not EVER okay. The fact that so many people don’t get that, or are deliberately choosing NOT to get that, is telling.

But as I said, Elmo is a child, and he is a friend to children, so all the kids whose parents were watching the Today Show with them, because Elmo was on to talk about sharing big feelings and caring for your mental health, got to watch this man storm into a set, and angrily attack Elmo.

That’s indefensible behavior, and calling me names doesn’t change that.

[maruflix]

YOU ARE SO GORGEOUS (IT MAKES ME SO MAD!) #oneshot #hoshinasoshiro #f!reader

hoshina is unfamiliar with the concept of personal space. unluckily for you, the huge crush you have on your vice captain is the least of your worries when he keeps catching you absolutely losing it. / REQ.

feat. hoshina soshiro　　⎯⎯　wc. 2.0k

contents: female reader, reader is an officer in the third division, fluff, stoic reader, reader cannot express her feelings, not-so-oblivious hoshina, kissing

When any kind of problem arises, the Third Division knows three things for sure:

Go get Captain Mina Ashiro to solve the problem for you.

If she’s busy with other important stuff, Vice Captain Hoshina Soshiro will do.

Should the Vice Captain be unavailable as well, look for Platoon Leader Y/N instead.

You don’t mind being busy— you’re happy to know that your fellow soldiers look for you in times of need. The thing is, sometimes people look for you to ask you where the Vice Captain is.

... and you hate Hoshina Soshiro.

It might surprise people to know that you’re able to feel emotions as strong as hate. You’re a naturally stoic person after all.

No noise readies you, no words shake you out of yourself, no person makes your emotions fluctuate — but Hoshina Soshiro is the only exception.

When other people would get discouraged to get close to you because of your lack of emotions, Soshiro is always at ease near you, like the two of you have been friends for a long time.

The way he smiles, the way he runs a hand through his hair, the way he stands— he’s so gorgeous it makes you so mad.

Like right now; the sound of blades clashing against each other rings in your ears as you try hard not to gape at the glorious display in front of you.

Kafka, huffing and puffing with sweat all over him as he desperately tries to keep up with his opponent, while Soshiro moves around with grace, delivering blows that seem so elegant and yet is enough to make Kafka stumble around like a puppet.

You watch, unsurprised, when Kafka falls down ungracefully, butt planted on the floor. Soshiro’s mouth starts moving (probably giving him some pointers) but all you can think about is how perfect he looks as a bead of sweat trails down his neck.

“Hey, it’s your turn.” Kikoru elbows you rather hard, making you snap out of your trance. Your face falls in an immediate deadpan as you stand up, passing by a dejected Kafka.

Soshiro smiles at you, seemingly unaffected by his earlier spar. “Oh no, I’m gonna have to open my eyes for this.”

He says it loud enough for everyone to hear and your heart leaps.

The spar lasted longer than the one with Kafka, but it still ended up with you losing. Well, there’s a reason he’s the Vice Captain and you’re the Platoon Leader.

As a competitive person, you should be angry for losing— but how could you, when Soshiro pulls you up and pats you in the back?

“You’re a great fighter. I might hafta to sit down and take a break.”

The poker face you successfully maintained should’ve given you a goddamn Grammy.

Soshiro spots you in the cafetaria and immediately makes a beeline to your table.

“’scuse me, coming through!”

The surprise in your eyes is gone as quickly as it appears. The entire table greets him warmly while you continue to eat. Soshiro smiles, sitting down next to you as Kafka scrambles to get out of his way.

Reno is trying to strike up conversation, but his only focus is on you. You seem so unconcerned about everything. He likes that about you too, but he wishes you’d let down your guard with him. How could he know whether you liked him or not? — not that he’d stop trying to get your attention.

Soshiro eating the rest of his apple while he watches you slurp down the last remains of your soup. Even when you eat, you look absolutely divine.

Just then, a lock of hair falls down your face, hanging dangerously close to your food. He instinctively reaches out to brush it out of your face.

“Whoops, wouldn’t wanna get that in the soup.”

Soshiro is aware of the stares he got from his subordinates, but seeing those beautiful eyes of yours look at him makes it worth it. Shocked, he watches as your eyes flash through different emotions before finally returning to its usual calm state.

“E-excuse me.” You didn’t give him time to speak before standing up and walking away.

“Wait!”

Did he just hear a stutter?

You walk fast, but Soshiro managed to keep a comfortable distance away from you. He lets you put away the tray of food and is about to call your name when you disappear inside the toilet.

He halts, opting to wait for you, resting his back against the wall. Then he hears something weird.

“AARRGGGHH!!!”

Posture immediately straight, his body involuntarily jerks to the sound of the scream, wanting to check out if you’re okay. Because it’s the sound of your scream.

He doesn’t have to, because at that moment the door swings open and you walk out of the toilet.

Red-faced.

He’s still standing in stunned silence when you slap a hand to your mouth and run away.

If Soshiro wasn’t worried before, he’s definitely worried now.

You keep avoiding him throughout the rest of the day. When you cross paths, you would refuse to look at him in the face. You’d only give him a halfhearted salute before fleeing.

The thing that bothers him is how hot and bothered you look. Are you feeling under the weather? Soshiro knows how hardworking you are, so he’s worried that you’re forcing yourself to work even though you’re sick.

“Platoon Leader, come here for a sec.”

You begrudgingly make your way to him, still not looking at him in the eyes. Fidgeting, sweating, and looking very, very bothered.

“Platoon Leader, are you sick?”

“No, sir.”

“Excuse me.” is his only warning before he presses his palm against your forehead.

Surprisingly, your temperature is... normal?

“W-what the-” Flinching, you make a big reaction and jerk away from his hand. Still, your face is calm. “If that’s all, I’ll take my leave.”

Soshiro sighs as you speedwalk away. Temperature aside, he’s 101% sure that you’re sick. After all, why else would your face be so red?

Unless...

You’re dreaming. You’re dreaming. You’re dreaming. Because there is no goddamn way Soshiro just touched your face.

You have no clue where you’re walking. You just wanted to get away from the only person who’s able to make you lose your cool. So you head outside, to the gardens. You pass by Haruichi on the way there.

“Hey, have you seen the Vice Captain around?” He calls out after you, making you want to scream in frustration.

Can people stop making you remember the existence of the drop dead gorgeous Hoshina Soshiro?!

“I don’t know! Maybe China!”

Haruichi looks very confused. You brush past him.

Full of nerves and unsure what to do, you finally sit down on a bench to catch your breath. You can still feel his fingertips on your forehead and see the worried expression in his handsome face.

He’s worried about you. You’re about to bury your head in your hands and squeal when you catch sight of the very same man walking towards you.

Like a cue, the mask is back on. You wanted to pat yourself in the back for how quickly you’re able to gather your composure. You’d rather die than embarrass yourself in front of your crush... although you just did that when you walked out to a surprised Soshiro.

He didn’t hear you scream, did he?

Did he?

You stand up as Soshiro stops next to you. He’s smiling his usual smile, but something is eerie about it. Like he knows a secret.

“Can I test something?”

You blink once. Twice. Then you nod.

“Walk with me.”

You follow him, puzzled.

Suddenly, he loops a hand around your shoulders.

Your heart misses a beat and you nearly stumble, but you catch yourself with sheer willpower. The stoic expression is getting harder to maintain, the smile on your lips itching to blossom.

“What... why?”

There are chills running down your back when you look up at Soshiro. His smile is wider now, like he absolutely knows a secret.

He absolutely knows.

You break free and run for your life.

Soshiro feels kinda guilty now. He didn’t mean to fluster you so much; he just felt so happy and flattered that he actually managed to make you blush.

That’s why he’s making his way to your quarters, hoping to apologize for teasing you too much today. Soshiro has loved you for many months now; he has no problems taking it slow until you’re ready to trust him with all your emotions.

The door is slightly ajar, so he pushes it open quietly, not wanting to alarm you. He’s about to knock on it to signal his presence when he sees the state you’re in.

Facing away from the door, your body is half slumped on the floor and half on the bed. You’re clutching a giant pillow to your face.

“AAARRRRGGGMMMM” Without warning, you scream, the sound drowned out by the pillow you’re burying your head into.

His mouth drops open but it quickly stretches into a smile.

You raise your head, revealing your blushing face, before slamming it down on the pillow again. A string of unintelligible noises follow soon after.

He clears his throat.

You pause mid grumble and the air is still. Slowly raising your head, you turn your head to the door. The two of you lock eyes.

“Vice Captain! Get out!”

Instead of getting out, Soshiro lets himself in and closes the door behind him. He chuckles at your terrified expression, finally seeing an emotion other than complete indifference.

“So you’re really not sick? Just blushin’ around me?”

You gape, looking very offended but unable to counter him.

“Oh, good. I thought my crush was unrequited.”

Your eyes widen.

“Hey, can I kiss ya?”

“Wh-what?!”

“Sorry. You just look so cute right now. Is that a no..?”

Soshiro moves closer, now kneeling down in front of you. A teasing smile is still present on his features. Gently, he strokes his thumb down the right side of your lips. Gauging your reactions.

You didn’t want to give him any, but even a great actress needs her breaks. A shy smile breaks through your cold facade, and Soshiro beams.

“Oh, this is so cute. I must kiss ya now.”

You don’t know where to look, eyes flitting everywhere but him, but you let him lean into you until you can feel his breaths against your skin.

“W-wait,” you gasp meekly. Soshiro’s other hand is around your waist now. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Soshiro shivers in anticipation. “That’s okay,” he whispers and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, “just follow my lead.” And he presses his lips against yours.

It’s so cute how shy you are, so much so that you’re trembling under his touch. He’s pretty sure he heard a whimper when he tightens his hold on your waist. It takes everything in him to control himself when you tilt your head back, parting your lips a bit further for him.

You don’t know how long time has passed because your head is still in the clouds even after he pulls away. It’s embarrassing how a simple kiss leaves you a mess; your breaths ragged and cheeks flushed.

You, who’s usually so stoic, calm and composed, looking like this under him—

“I want to say that I’ll stop teasing you, but I would be lying.” Soshiro grins when you bury your face in his chest.

You’re sulking a bit now. How dare he make you look like a complete idiot. “Whatever. You won’t get another reaction out of me anyway.”

“Is that a challenge?”

After that, he tries to get your attention every time you’re in the same space as each other. He’ll tease you, praise you, sling an arm around your shoulders, hold your things out of reach, all that just to get a rise out of you.

Of course, everyone knows he’s down bad. He acts like a schoolboy trying to get attention from his crush in all the wrong ways. So now even more people ask you about Soshiro; where he is, what he’s doing, like they’re completely convinced you two are an item.

Well, you are.

But with so many people teasing you about your relationship, it’s getting hard to hide behind a calm face. You smile a lot more often, especially when he’s around. Your reputation as the division’s most calm and composed soldier quickly fades into memory. At least you got yourself a hot boyfriend...?

Oh well. You win some, you lose some.

[bitebitekxll]

Do they purr - genshin non-humans

៚ Zhongli ✧ Xiao ✧ Wanderer ✧ Albedo ✧ Venti

Notes: Holy hell how do I have 50 followers??? THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR SUPPORTING MY SILLY MUSINGS. This literally was just my way to learn how to write smut and post self-indulgent head canons but I’m glad people are enjoying this with me :DDDD

𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈 ᥫ᭡

Yes, 100%. He will deny it every time but lay on this man’s chest, maybe press a kiss to his jaw, and his chest is going like a fucking engine. He will insist that it’s not a purr, it’s simply a content growl— or perhaps a rumble, at most. He isn’t some measly cat, after all, he is a mighty dragon, the Prime Adeptus—

It’s definitely a purr.

Get him a cat ear hairband. He will give you the most long-suffering, unamused look while he wears them, but he will wear them. Anything for his beloved ♡~

𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎 ᥫ᭡

No, unfortunately. You have found no evidence that your stone-faced Yaksha is capable of emitting a purr, or purr-like sound (though certainly not for lacking of trying).

However… there is the matter of whether he is able to trill or coo like a bird, given that is his true nature.

He gets annoyed when you ask him, adamant that is not something he can do, and how dare you even entertain such a notion. Have you no respect for the adepti? Hmph.

…but you swear you’ve heard him chirp when you catch him off guard: kissing him without warning or praising him unabashedly.

It seems this will require further investigation.

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀 ᥫ᭡

Not purring, but whirring!! Got this idea from @seabirdtxt ‘s Glitch in Irminsul fic (it’s SAGAU focused on the diff vers of scara existing at the same time, go read it it’s great) and it just makes so much sense to me.

As a mechanical puppet, and an advanced one at that, Scara has tons of machinery going on inside of him. Though it usually can’t be heard, if you get especially close to his chest— a privilege only reserved for you and maybe Nahida during hugs —you can hear the whirring and clicking of his moving parts inside. It doesn’t sound the same as a purr, not exactly, but it’s pretty damn close.

Most of the time it’s pretty faint, but sometimes Scara might just make it louder— it’s got nothing to do with the way your face lights up or how you smile when you hear it, don’t be stupid.

Of course, the only way he can make the noise louder is by overworking his system, making the parts inside move faster than they’re supposed to. If he does it too much or for too long, well…

You’ll know it’s time to lecture him on taking better care of himself when he starts burning up. Overheating is the first sign he’s about to overload his system and shut down (or from everyone else’s perspective: pass out).

You’re the only one who can make him stupid enough to be willing to break his own mechanisms just to see that adorable ridiculous expression on your face. (He might come back to his senses in a petulant huff if you start calling him a cat, tho)

𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐎 ᥫ᭡

Sadly, purring is not a feature homunculi come with. But this is Albedo we’re talking about, he can definitely figure it out.

He won’t tell you just what idea you’ve sparked with your question— you always worry when he starts self-experimenting —but it’ll be fine! He takes all the necessary precautions, limits any risk, because there’s always some risk in life, and downs a concoction or two in his quest to see if he can change the makeup of his own body. As an artificial life form, he’s less delicate than an organic one, so he doesn’t need to worry about pesky issues like rearranging his (non-existent) organs in a fatal manner.

And it works! Well, sort of. You come back home to a boyfriend that is fully capable of purring!! And also!! Has, uh, cat ears…

Albedo would consider it a success— he accomplished his goal, even if there were a few side effects. And you get a pretty catboy equipped with the cute, twitching ears and a fuzzy blonde tail; everybody wins! ♡

Of course, there’s always the chance his experiment just turns him into a cat entirely… but it wears off after a day or so, so it’s not the worst thing Albedo’s done to himself.

Either way, congratulations, he can now purr for the next 24 hours. And regardless of his cat-to-boy ratio, he will be expecting pets. Get to it~

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈 ᥫ᭡

He has bird vocalisations! Except he’s worse at hiding it then Xiao may or may not be. It’s not outright chirping, but it is a cooing trill in the back of his throat, too vibrational to be a regular hum.

It’s the sound he makes when he’s perfectly content, laying in a warm patch of sun on the soft grass, sat atop a roof with alcohol warming his veins, and curled up in your arms, round cheek smushed against your chest. He takes in a deep breath, filling his lungs with your scent, and then releasing it in a sigh, accompanied by the musical tones of his little trill.

He makes shorter ones when he’s pleasantly surprised; when you unexpectedly toss him an apple or pat his head. He’ll grin or lean into the touch and make that sound in his throat. Too quiet to be heard by the people around you over the din of the town, but you’ll hear it. It’s a sound just for you ♡

[moremaybank]

CHOCOLATE , jj maybank

── KINKTOBER: PRAISE KINK + SQUIRTING + MIRROR SEX

"all i know is, it rains when it feels right." ─ kiana ledé, chocolate. (remix)

jj maybank x insecure!gf!reader

(18+) praise kink, squirting, fingering, use of a mirror (technically it's partial mirror sex), dirty talk

jj worships you when you’re feeling down (and makes it rain)

KINKTOBER , OBX MASTERLIST

jj's chest was hot against your back, the two of you pressed up skin to skin. you melted into him like chocolate, craving him and the way he took the time to worship you.

lucky for you, jj was always in the mood to do so.

when you had confided in jj and told him you were feeling insecure lately, presumbly because of your upcoming period, he wasted no time crafting a plan with the goal to make you feel better.

there was no way in hell he was gonna let his girl walk around thinking she was anything less than perfect, whether her insecurities were caused by hormones or not.

he'd pulled your body-length mirror closer to the edge of your bed, placed you between his legs, spread you wide open and made you watch as he cherished you with his words and with his magic touch.

"who told you you weren't perfect? huh, baby? 'cause the way you're lookin' right now, 'm pretty sure you're an angel 'n this is heaven.”

his fingers slide into your warm, oozing cunt rhythmically, each punt curling upward to play with that spongy part of you that made your thighs tremble for him. every single press to it forced a pitiful moan to tumble past your parted lips.

"hate seein' you like this, baby..." the ringed knuckles of jj's free hand skimmed up and down anywhere they could reach, drawing imaginary lines on your inner thighs and your stomach. the cool metal ran over your pebbling nipples and pulled goosebumps forth from your flesh. "jus' need me to remind you how perfect you are? hm?"

his chin hooked over your shoulder, and he dotted kiss after kiss on your blood-rushed cheek. turning his head, he found your gaze in the mirror and held it there. the pad of his thumb applied pressure to your clit, rubbing it in time with the work of his fingers. he motioned downward with his chin, urging you to look at your filled pussy in the reflection. "see how that pretty pussy takes my fingers? look at'er go, mama."

you mewl pathetically when he starts to fingerfuck you harder, the heel of his palm now colliding with your clit and making your knees buckle. "feels too good, j," you voiced out the best as you could. you could barely suck in a breath as the freight train that was your high crept up on you. "don't deserve it. don't deserve you."

jj tutted you, shaking his head. "yeah you fuckin' do. deserve the world, mama. fuck, you're so good."

your heat started to clamp down on his fingers, quivering and convulsing helplessly.

"you wanna cum?" jj asked, eyes meeting yours in the mirror once more. your smaller hand circles around his wrist, holding on while he used it to please you. "that sound good, sweetheart?"

"y-yeah. please, j. need it."

"then you gotta say what i tell you to, alright?"

you nodded for him. you had no idea what you were agreeing to, but you didn't care. jj was completely taking over all of you, and you just wanted to be good for him. do anything he asked of you because you seeked his approval so direly.

"tell me how pretty you look with your pussy stuffed."

your stomach did cartwheels and your core fluttered at his vulgarity. gulping, you did as he said. "i-i look pretty with my pussy stuffed."

"yeah...yeah you do, baby. tell me you take it so well when daddy fucks you. tell me how perfect your pussy is for me."

"m-my pussy's perfect. take it so well for you, daddy."

"good. now look yourself in the mirror 'n say you're beautiful," was his next command. his gaze was scorching, his praise electrifying and heart-filling. he'd handcrafted you into his own puppet, or he'd had you hypnotized. either way, the words leaked out of you like a faucet.

"i'm beautiful."

"again...say it again, baby."

"i'm— shit— i'm beautiful!"

his rosy lips found solace in the crook of your neck. he pressed open mouthed kisses before letting his teeth lightly nip and scrape at your pulse point. "so beautiful, mama. deserve to cum real good, yeah? go 'head 'n give it to me."

jj's left hand sought out your breast, pinching your sensitive nipple just how you liked. his fingers were relentless, fucking your sopping cunt into oblivion. you were so far gone that you couldn't speak. the pit in your core was burning ferociously, threatening to take you over completely.

"yeaaah. there ya go." you started to cum, your juices shooting out of you in spurts. his fingers withdrew from you, cum-slicked fingerpads rubbing at your clit almost viciously as he tried to get more out of you. he grinned wickedly when his plan worked, and your pussy continued to squirt for him. the glass was covered and your shared image was distorted, but all you could zone in on was your godsent boyfriend and his ever-so-skilled words. and hands.

"i love you so much, mama. don't ever think you aren't enough."

[nor-ay]

This is just me thinking about my last two-shot story. A little drabble.

So you head with everyone to the spire of all knowledge. Rolling eyes when White Lily Cookie and Pure Vanilla Cookie have their little moment when resolving the riddle that Towerkeeper Cookie gave you. So, when you are sleeping inside the Tower, you get this weird dream where you’re all spacey and dizzy and kinda like Alice in Wonderland, you follow this white bunny with blue ears to a room where there is a puppet identical to you. It has the same ornament in its head, just like you.

And from a distance, you hear Shadow Milk Cookie’s voice saying something you can’t really understand. So you ask him. “Would you please tell me, which way I should go from here? I want to return”

You can’t see him when he answers but his voice seems to be everywhere. “ Now now, return where, exactly? You came here yourself.” His giggles echo so loud that you have to cover your ears.

“No…I’m sure I followed a rabbit and ended up here.” You begin to doubt yourself, and everything is so dark yet so bright. You feel overwhelmed. Maybe you wanted to be here, you want him, right?

“Rabbit? What rabbit? I’m pretty sure that you want to be here! Mhm…well, since I’m such a thoughtful host, I’ll tell you what, relax, aaand…you’ll be back where you were, O-kay?”

…

When you wake up, feeling and probably looking stoned, you find the doll next to you.

Damn, I regret not putting this on the part two. I’m always a bit worried when writing dialogue because I’m afraid that I make him out of character. Anyway, you can’t tell me that Sadow Milk Cookie doesn’t like Alice in Wonderland. I know he does, trust he told me himself.

@average-crk-enjoyer you told me to tag you so here it is!