#(( than just purely going to whatever sounds big enough

[royalreef]

(( Since height discussion is rolling around on the dash again, and I don't just want to restate Miranda's exact dimensions ( and yes, I'm still thinking about her new weight as I try to figure that out for the redesign since it's years old ), I'll share one of my creature design opinions.

I actually strongly dislike designs that are "too big".

Partially this is because I just really hate the kindergarten mentality that plagues monster and creature discussions, that bigger is always cooler and better, and being the biggest must mean that it's the absolute best. It's childish, it's overly simplistic, it's entirely unrealistic, I'm sick of it. People want to use bigness as shorthand for better and they offer nothing else to support that, just alluding to the ideas that they want to play with instead of understanding what actually gives them the impact they want. At the very worst, it makes the designs seem "floaty" and detached from reality in a very, very bad way.

But primarily? I like big designs that you actually have a context for. An animal the size of a building isn't something anyone is going to encounter, not on land, and it means nothing to me for that. But a design that sits comfortably within the range of other extant animals? That's much easier to understand and to put into context of your own body and how things exist around them. Using restraint makes these things hit all the harder for me, because it helps give them weight, helps you compare your everyday environment to the dimensions of the design, helps you understand every single way them and the way they move interacts with their environment and the people around them.

Bear skulls are smaller than you think. So are elk and bison skulls. So are lion skulls. But they are always much, much larger when that same space is taken up by a living animal that could actually hurt you, that you have examples of animal attacks that you can pull up for exact reference on what they can do, that you might have to actually stand next to something that is both so much smaller than you expected and so much larger. And I think that works far, far better in character designs than just borrowing from the first big animal you see.

[solarplanet2]

The Little Eldritch Creature

DCxDP Drabbles/Scribbles

Part 1(? Still undecided)

Danny had a lot to say.

Especially to Clockwork.

How dare he send him to another dimension without him knowing?! Especially when all Clockwork had said to him before being thrown into a portal is;

"Good Luck, Daniel."

Good luck? GOOD LUCK TO WHAT!?

Oh, once Danny comes home he will give that old man a saying to. And bit him. Yes! he'll bite his clocks! Let's see how he likes it!!

It's bad enough that he was thrown into a natural portal, but being reduced to a small thing at the size of a squirrel!?!?

He can't even do anything in this form!

Sure, he can use his powers but only to an extent. The only thing Danny could do was being intangible, invisibility and flying/floating.

Disgrace! He was supposed to be a king! A powerful being! He can't be reduced to small adorable thing!

Danny punched the ground in distress, already feeling the tears coming up in his eyes in distress.

Another thing he had noticed. Not only he was in a form of little creature, it seemed his mind and body is of a baby, a child!

He is FOURTEEN! almost fifteen! He can't act this way!

Danny let out a wail, punching the concrete floor in pure distress and helplessness. He wants to bite Clockwork! He wants to be mad at him and get him home! Everything is so big! He doesn't want to be small! He feels helpless! And weak! No! He wants to go home!

He wants to go home and see Jazz!

He misses Jazz...

°•°•°•°•°•°•°

"WWAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!"

Red Hood pauses in his step once he hears a...very squeaky wail?

But it also made his pit rage react.

What the?

"Hood. Come in."

"Yeah. What is it, Oracle?" Red Hood signed in as he jumped over a rooftop, heading towards the wail.

"The satalites detected something in your area. Just about a few blocks ahead of you. It causes a static in the frequency."

Welp. There goes his answers.

"I'm already on it. There was some kind of Wail in my direction. Already checking it out."

"Hood, Wait for back up." Oh great.

"I'm already here." Hood scoffed at B as he landed down in front of the alley way.

"Hoo...?" Static came in the comms, making Hood furrowed his eyebrows. Whatever this is, it's effecting his comms.

Hood knew something was wrong once he stepped in the alleyway. The pits suddenly felt weird. Not the bad weird but weird notheless.

Worried. Go. Now!

Hood groaned. Alright. He had an urge to shoot someone.

The more Hood stepped in the alley way, the more he could hear something. A small sound, like a whine? A squeaky whine in the edge of this block.

Hood froze once he saw a familiar green by the end of the dumpster. Oh fuck.

So that's why the pit rage is reacting.

Fuck.

Grabbing his gun from the holster, he slowly walked towards the dumpster. He looked over and....

What is that?

It's small, smaller than Alfred the cat. White hair and ..is that a green tail?

Okay, whatever it was, it's glowing.

And shaking.

And crying.

Why is it crying?

The pits instantly reacted. Bubbling in his stomach like boiling. But Hood knew he wasn't angry.

It felt like it was concern?

But for what?

What is this thing-?

And it's looking at him.

Hood felt himself freeze at the Lazarus green eyes. Big and wide Lazarus green eyes. And fuck are those tears??

Hood doesn't know what to do.

Chirp!

It chirp.

Fuck that was adorable.

Focus, Hood! This is not the time to think such thoughts. He needs to comm the others. Comm B and--

Wait why is moving!?

HOLY SHIT--

CHIRP!!

•°•°•°•°•°

This guy reaks of ectoplasm.

No. This ecto is not good. This ecto is dangerous.

He needs help.

(I am thinking whether or not this needs a part 2 so don't be disappointed if there isn't that means no tagging)

(Edit: it has part 2)

[shy-writer-999]

Summary: Sabo’s muscles are hot. Even hotter when his cock is in you. That’s it, that’s the summary. ~3.1k words. This is pure, nasty, (extremely) uncreative smut. Enjoy!

CW: Afab reader, gendered pet names (“princess” and “pretty girl”), lots of throwing the reader around, teasing, dirty talk, like 3 diff sex positions, P in V.

MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

It’s late at night in the revolutionary base and you just finished eating your midnight snack. On your way back to your room, you hear footsteps behind you. You’re familiar with the sound and you can immediately tell who it is. As you begin to turn around, big hands grasp your waist and unexpectedly push you towards the wall.

You’re pinned and someone’s body flush is against yours. He’s caught you off guard and now he has you right where he wants you—just how he’s been fantasizing all day.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Obviously, it’s Sabo. You’re well acquainted with the feeling of those strong hands bracing your body while he does whatever he wants with you.

“Sabo, what are you doing?” Your tone is one of fake incredulity and you laugh because you can already tell he wants to rail you into oblivion. He’s feral for you. What’s new?

As his lips meet your shoulder and wander to your neck, he leaves soft licks and kisses. He takes a deep inhale.

“I missed you, baby.” Sabo murmurs in your ear and his voice is sugar-coated. You can feel something hard poking into your ass, slowly rutting into you. His grip around your waist tightens.  

You giggle and you roll your eyes. “It’s been six hours since you last saw me.”

He effortlessly flips you around so his chest is pressing into yours and he’s backing you against the wall yet again.

“Six hours is too long. C’mere. Can’t you help me let off some steam?” Sabo’s voice is lower than usual. It gets like this when he’s worked up, when his cock is hard and aching for you.

A hand leaves your waist and finds its place on your cheek, guiding your lips to his with surprising softness. Your arms wrap around his neck. They never fail to find their way there.

The kisses increase in desperation and he starts dry humping you so hard that it’s starting to hurt.

His large, warm hands slip under the hem of your shirt and squeeze your breasts, massaging and kneading them for a moment before he breaks your kisses and asks, “Can I pick you up?”

Your answer is an eager “mmhmm.”

Sabo loves to throw you around and you have no problem indulging him whenever he asks. He knows you love how strong he is. When you first started seeing each other, it took you some convincing to allow him to pick you up—was it a matter of self-confidence? Safety? Security? Not wanting him to drop you? It had been so long since then that you’ve forgotten your initial hesitance. Now, when he asks if he can pick you up, the answer is always a resounding yes.

Once he found out about your strength kink, he was borderline insufferable about it. When he lifts weights or does other workouts like pull-up bars or push-ups, he makes sure you can see. He doesn’t do it in a cringey way, rather, he’s being considerate. He knows you want a glance, and he complies. Sabo is tickled that you like it so much and he never knew that this would be the thing that got you going—so tickled that he loves to ruthlessly tease you about it.

He lifts you by your waist, sliding you up the wall. When you’re raised enough to his liking, his hands shift downwards to your thighs, supporting your weight enough for your legs to wrap around him.

It goes without saying, but he’s ripped. His arms feel sturdy—you’re not worried that he’s going to drop you, and when his rippling muscles press on your skin, you’re reminded of just how manly he is.

He doesn’t look overtly muscular at first glance. But the first time you saw Sabo training without a shirt, your jaw dropped. Everything about him was perfect—he looked like he was carved from marble, toned, beautiful, the abs, the v-line, the muscle definition, the golden hair, tanned skin… Fuck, he’s hot.

Sabo loves to use those muscles and his strength to contort you into any shape he wants and fuck you anywhere and anyhow he can imagine. He likes to pick you up and fuck you like that, being in total control, slinging you around like you’re a sack of flower (or a sex doll). And you can’t deny that it gets you off just as much as it gets him off.

When he has you wrapped around him, Sabo picks you up and carries you into his bedroom. His erection is rubbing you from below and it’s making your core tingle and throb.

He basically throws you onto the end bed. He takes off his clothes and you’re struck by the sight of his cock. You’ve seen it many times before, but the sight never got old. Like the rest of him, it’s big and pretty. Long, thick, veiny, dusted with colors of fleshy pink and inflamed reds.

You free yourself from your clothes too and look up at him. His expression is lust itself.

“God, I can’t wait to fuck you.” Sabo’s voice is husky. As you spread your legs for him, his cock jumps.

More manhandling. Sabo’s arms loop under your thighs and he literally yanks your knees over his shoulders. He’s pressing down into you so hard that his weight almost knocks the wind out of you. Your knees are up and pushed into your chest as much as is physically possible—it almost hurts, you’re certainly uncomfortable, but with the prospect of his cock, you can endure anything.

He takes in the moment, teasing himself and you by running the tip of his cock your clit and down through your folds. It makes your back arch and sparks of bliss flash in your eyes. He lets out a groan and does this for a few minutes, until you’re begging for it. You’re soaking wet in record time.

“Sabo, fuck. Stop teasing me. Put it in already.” You’re pouting.

“Don’t you wanna ask nicely?” He teases with a cocky grin. If you had more willpower right now, you’d reprimand him for making you wait when you’re this wet. But… you’re on the verge of throwing him on the bed and riding him.

“Sabo, please, baby.”

He knows you’re wet enough now that he can slide his cock in without any resistance or pain. So he does, and it feels absolutely amazing as his girth presses into your cunt inch by delicious inch.

His cock is so huge that it takes a moment for your walls to adjust. As Sabo stretches you out, a moan escapes your lips. He almost shivers from the sound. Vocal expressions of your pleasure always give him goosebumps. When you start making noises like that, he falls apart. He loses composure. No more teasing. He needs you now.

His hips start to roll into yours, as slow as he can muster. He wants to coax pleasure from you, to see your face twist in pleasure, to feel your walls clench around his shaft until he explodes inside of you.

One hand braces itself next to your head. He’s putting all his weight on top of you, and all that muscle makes him heavy. You have to make an extra effort to breathe because he’s practically squishing the air out of you with each thrust. You’d have it no other way.

As Sabo’s cock scrapes your throbbing walls, raging waves of pleasure start to crash over you. He can feel you clenching on his shaft. It spurs him on. He picks up the pace and you start to moan and writhe under him.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Sabo grunts out, inches away from your face. His eyes transform when he gets like this—the kindness is gone. Only desire and need can be discerned from his fiery gaze. “So fucking tight for me.”

Suddenly, and far too quickly, you’ve reached your limit. He’s fucking into you like it’s nothing, absolutely obliterating your g-spot so you feel like you’re floating. His hands are on your waist and he’s moving you back and forth on his cock, fucking you however he wants, like he’s just using you.

On full display, Sabo’s muscly arms pick you up with ease again. He maneuvers you, and you find yourself sinking onto his cock, straddling him in reverse cowgirl. He’s laying on the bed, propped up by pillows, grabbing fistfuls of your ass and spreading your cheeks apart. He watches his cock disappear into you, mesmerized.

“Ride me, pretty girl.”

You whimper and start to bounce up and down on his cock at his command. After a while, your legs start to hurt, so you collapse forward and brace yourself on your hands as your rock your hips back and forth.

“Just like that. Fuck, you ride me so well.” Sabo graces you with a satisfied groan and a hard smack on your ass. The pain sears, but it emphasizes your pleasure. He’s bucking his hips upwards in small jerks, driving himself deeper into your cunt. Your thighs are shaking and you’re whimpering at each press on your g-spot.

You’re riding him to completion—at least, that’s what you think. But he’s too familiar with your body and your moans. He can tell that you’re going to cum in a minute if you keep going. And he’s nowhere near finished with you.

“Ah ah ah, not yet baby. I’m not done with you.”

He pulls his cock out and you whine in protest. Why does he always have to make this so difficult?

Sabo throws you around some more. Next thing you know, he’s standing up, holding you, and his cock is inside of you. You wrap your legs around him. You know the drill.

Sabo pulls and pushes on your ass, bouncing you on his cock while you pull him tighter with your legs. He loves to fuck you standing up while he does all the work. Usually, this is how he prefers to cum in you.

He can go for hours like this. He’s that strong. And his arms won’t start to ache or shake.

But he won’t go for hours today—only for a little while longer. He gets you babbling and fucked out, dripping wet and pulsing around his cock, and then he pulls out of you again. You’re so frustrated that you almost cry.

“Oh, you thought I was gonna let you cum, sweetheart?” He laughs and kisses you with another cheeky grin plastered over his face. His blonde hair is ruffled and there’s a sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s getting close. He thinks that the next position will be the last one.

He slams you back on the bed again, unceremoniously, almost knocking the wind out of you. Fuck, it’s hot when he does that, and fuck, he’s so strong it’s crazy. You squeeze your thighs together when you’ve settled on the bed and he laughs because he knows you too well.

“God, you’re cute. You really like being thrown around that much?” Sabo stands and strokes his cock for a second while he stares down at your puppy-dog eyes.

His teasing is cruel. Can’t he just fuck you already?

“Sabo, please.”

He tuts and keeps stroking his cock, standing at the end of the bed. One of his hands is fisting as much precum as he can out of his slit, and the other is passing over his abs and pecs, teasing himself and you. He’s getting dangerously worked up and you’ve only been having sex for 20 minutes max. That might be a new low.

“Touch yourself for me, princess.”

You whine and open your legs for his greedy eyes. It’s already like mush between your legs, so wet that your thighs are messy and your cunt is throbbing. You pass two fingers down through your folds and hiss air in through your teeth at the sensation.

Returning your fingers up, you circle your own juices over your clit for a few moments before you’re arching your back again. You know that you can’t cum yet. In an effort to stave off the inevitable, your hands wander upwards to play with your chest—one hand squeezes your breast while the other plays with your sensitive bud.

“Sabo.” You moan his name and his heart flips. He knows you’re thinking about him while you touch yourself. It gets him off beyond belief.

You roll your nipple between your fingers and your other hand creeps down again to your core. As you slip your middle and ring fingers into your cunt, you begin to fuck yourself with them, going slow at first and angling to find that gooey sensitive spot inside.

It feels so good that your thighs are starting to seize up and your toes start to curl. “Fuck, Sabo. I need you.” You look at him with a tortured, needy face and he groans again. When you say his name like that with your fingers stuffed in your cunt, he has no choice but to fuck you so hard your eyes roll back in your head.

He pounces on you, pinning your hands above your head with one hand and pushing your thigh up with the other. When he plunges his cock into your folds, you know he means business.

His pace is fast and erratic. “You drive me fucking crazy,” he grunts as he grinds his cock on your deepest parts and squeezes the plush skin of your thigh. “You’re so fucking wet, babe. Fuuucckkkk.”

Through your half-lidded eyes and the haze of lust that’s taken over your mind, you manage to drink up the sight in front of you. Sabo’s pretty blonde hair is shifting back and forth, in time with his hips. His arms are flexed in all their glory—toned, not too big, muscly, and sexy. The same goes for his abs and pecs—he’s just breathtaking.

His happy trail snakes up his abdomen, and it’s a darker shade than his blonde locks; the wiry pattern thins out before his belly button. His abs are so solid that it’s ridiculous, but it isn’t too much. Everything about him fits his physique perfectly—every muscle is striking but not overwhelming, each is a bold statement of the strength that he works so hard for. His size and definition are perfect for his frame. You count your lucky stars that he uses that strength on you, doing whatever he pleases (or whatever you ask for).

He's too hot for his own good, and he knows it.

His hips roll into yours and you’re seeing stars by now, head lolling to the side as you’re barely cognizant of anything happening other than pleasure. Every squelching noise makes him grunt. He’s approaching orgasm, finally ready to let go inside of you.

“You gonna cum for me, angel? I know you’re getting close.”

When you whimper in response, he reaches a hand down and rubs his thumb on your clit. That sends you over the edge.

Your moans are deafening, and they go straight to his cock. He presses down on your clit harshly and you start to squirm, clawing into his biceps and throwing your head back in pleasure.

“Fuck, Sabo, ‘m cumming, fuck, fuck that feels good.” You convulse and spasm. When you tell him that he’s making you feel good, that’s what finally does it for him.

His last thrusts are haphazard, and his thumb draws circles agonizingly slow circles on your clit still. It’s almost too much now that you’re mid-orgasm.

“That’s it, gorgeous. Cream on my cock. Feels so—so f-fucking good.” Deep groans trickle from his pretty lips.

Sabo finally hits his limit at one strong clench from your walls around his cock. He seizes up and shoots his load into you, letting out a chorus of “fuck, babe,” and “feels so good,” and “you’re so fucking wet for me,” etc.

When you’re both done with your respective mind-numbing waves of pleasure, Sabo pulls out of you and watches his cum drip out of your cunt. He smiles and then leans in for more kisses.

Sabo is very satisfied with himself. He just loves that you let him do whatever he wants to you, and the best part of it is making you cum every time.

When he’s smothered you with enough kisses, he picks you up again and carries you off to the bathroom attached to his suite. It’s nothing fancy, but he keeps it squeaky clean. It’s another one of his favorite spots to fuck you, other than his bed and when you’re leaned over the kitchen counter with your ass on display.

In the bathroom, he gets you all cleaned up. Frequently, you’ll end the night (or spend a few hours) in his bed together, naked under the covers. He kisses every part of you that he can, spoons you, pets your cheek or hair with his hand, or even tickles you when he wants to hear your cute giggles.

He’s manly and muscly, duh. But he really is such a sweetie pie. It’s literally heart melting and almost suffocating. But when you’re drowning in his affection, you can’t complain. He just loves you so much that he can’t keep it inside. That’s why going six hours in a day without seeing you (or fucking you) is so brutal for him. He’s like a dog for you.

That being said, you can just imagine how good the sex is and how needy he gets when he goes on multi-day missions without you. He tries to be as locked-in as he can, following the plan and staying as safe as possible, but sometimes he slips up, and frequently that’s because he’s musing on putting his cock in you and plowing you until you can’t speak anymore.

that’s all for this one. shoutout to the anon who suggested that i indulge in my strength kink for this prompt with sabo. goddamn that man is a rascal and i want him to ravage me… just thinking about his arms i gotta fan myself with my hand.... he wouldnt be TOO muscly either, i think he would be very ripped but not like a body builder or anything. just pretty and toned *chefs kiss*

but also this felt pretty mid so if you got this far, thanks for humoring me! much love <3

here’s my masterlist and here’s my october posting schedule.

i’m posting everyday from now to october 31!

finally, trick or treat? (tumblr links)

[mapis-putellas]

Three’s a crowd

Pairing: Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x reader

Words: 3389

Warnings: swearing

Summary: You accidentally tell Ona about your relationship with Ingrid and Mapi despite promising them you’d keep it to yourself. Their reaction is nothing like you expect.

Notes: I’m sorry I’m advance for the terrible Spanish. Also, this may not flow smoothly and I apologise for that. I tried my best!

"I mean, I'd make out with them but like -platonically, you know?"

"You can't make out with someone platonically, idiota."

"Of course you can! We've done it like, so many times before already. I mean, maybe it was platonic at first, anyway. But it's definitely not now." You wave your hand dismissively. It takes promptly three seconds before you freeze in the midst of shoving your belongings into your back at the words that had just escaped your mouth without meaning to. Eyes widening, you turn to face Ona who was staring at you with a look of pure shock on her face. Her mouth was agape, hands frozen mid air in the midst of pulling off her jersey.

"qué?" Her eyebrow raise.

You panic. "Uhh, nothing. I said nothing," you scramble to collect the rest of your things, hoisting your kitbag onto your shoulder before slowly backing away from her. "You're just hearing things, Ona. I didn't say anything."

You see, this...relationship, or whatever was going on between Mapi, Ingrid and yourself was new. So new, in fact, it didn't quite have a label. In the privacy of their home, you were like any typical throuple. You kissed. Cuddled. Held hands. They'd dote over you and you craved their attention and affection. In public, however, they tended to stay away from you. Not in a mean way. A least, you didn't think so anyway. Sure they'd speak to you. Pull you into he occasional side hug if you did particularly well in training. Soft, subtle smiles would be shared between the three of you.

But that was it, and that was okay. It was just easier that way anyway. Nobody questioned you; talked you into thinking that maybe joining their relationship wasn't the best idea. You were already going a good enough job of that yourself, after all, and the rumours and speculations that would surely appear if started being affectionate in public certainly wouldn’t help.

It wasn't like you didn't want to be with them, because you very much did. It was just...they were perfect together. Had been together for years before bringing you into the mix. What did you bring into this...relationship that they didn't already have?

The answer was nothing.

Perhaps that train of thought wasn't fair, you thought. It had only been a month, after all. A month was nothing. It was why you'd chosen to remain silent. That way, you wouldn't cause any issues.

"ey ey ey, no," her hand grabs your arm, preventing you from making your escape. "You are not going anywhere chica. Sentarse." She all but demands, pointing your cubby.

"No, Ona," you futility attempt to free your arm. Ingrid was going to kill you. Literally murder you before bringing you back to clean up the mess. Both she and Mapi had asked you to keep this to yourself, and you'd broken their trust before talking without thinking. You and your stupid big mouth.

"Really. I have to go. I said I would-"

Ona shakes her head, effectively cutting you off mid sentence. "Sentarse." She says again, sounding less amused than she had before. It has you shrinking in place, but yet, your stubbornness has you once again shaking your head.

"No. I'm not a dog." The door was just there. Your eyes desperately flicker around the room in hopes of finding something that would distract the defender so you make a break for it.

"Y/n, I swear-"

"What is going on?" A new voice fills the room, and both your heads turn at the sound. At the sight of Mapi standing before you, tanned, tattooed arms crossed against her chest, your eyes wide almost comically. Oh shit. Shit shit shit. You were dead. You were so dead.

Mapi's eyes flicker from Ona's face to her grasp around your arm, prompting the defender for sigh heavily before dropping it. She turns and sits, bending down to begin removing her boots. The knowing smirk on her face was hidden. She knew it.

"Qué está pasando?" Mapi asks again, dropping her arms and making her over to you. You instinctively take a small step closer to her, staring at Ona with pleading eyes when she looks up and makes eye contact. She stares right back at you for a few moments before sighing lightly and shaking her head, rising to her feet and tugging off her jersey.

"Nada," she finally speaks, and you let out a subconscious breath of relief as feel your heart beginning to settle in your chest. Crises averted. For now, anyway.

Mapi eyes Ona for a second before nodding and turning to face you. You don't seem to realise the look of concern still etched on your face, but the Spaniard decides that for now, she'd drop the subject in an effort to prevent furthering your impending panic.

"Are you ready to go?" She asks instead, and you nod, allowing her to place a steady hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the locker room. You glance back at Ona who just so happened to be staring right back at you. She raises an eyebrow and tilts her head slightly to the side in question, and you nod, the defender mimicking it before focusing her attention back to her kitbag.

"Ingrid is in the car already." Mapi tells you in her heavily accented English as you make your way outside, her hand absentmindedly trailing up and down your back in a subconscious action of comfort.

You hum does little to comfort her.

"What happened, amor?" She gently pulls you to a stop, her hand on your hip gently coaxing you to face her. You comply, albeit a little hesitantly, eyes focusing on the tattoo on her neck. Looks can be deceiving. They could be indeed. A small part of you admittedly wants to tell her, but you figure doing so and spilling your guts and in the middle of a car park with all your teammates surrounding you wouldn't be the best idea.

"Later?" You plead instead, and though the Spaniard hesitates, she nods her head and once again starts guiding you back to her car with her hand on the small of your back. The remainder of the walk was completed in silence, Mapi opening the trunk of her car allowing you to dump your kitbag in the there along with Ingrid's and her own before opening the back passenger door.

You slip inside with a tight smile and without your usual kiss to her cheek in thanks, and the defender finds herself frowning as she closes the door and makes her way round to the drivers side, completely missing your less than enthusiastic greeting to Ingrid. You settle in the back with your headphones in, perhaps a not so mature response, but one you deemed necessary to get your thoughts together before the inevitable conversation ahead.

"Is she okay?" The Norwegian questions, glancing back a you in concern. She doesn't normally like talking about you with you in such close proximity, but she figures due to the loud music currently emanating from your headphones that you wouldn't be able to hear them. Besides, she was only doing so out of concern.

Mapi shrugs, "no sé. Ona said something, I think. Said something she did not mean to, maybe?" Her eyes follow Ingrid's for a second before she starts the car, pulling out of her parking space with relative ease. The plan had been for you to stay with them tonight, so she purposely misses the turn to your apartment and continues straight to theirs.

"Ona said something to her?" Ingrid frowns.

"Sí. She look like, how you say..." Mapi tightens her hands around the steering wheel, "como un ciervo atrapado en los faros?"

"A dear caught in headlights?" Ingrid responds, and Mapi nods.

"Sí." The Spaniard confirms.

Ingrid reaches out and places a steady hand on the defenders thigh, giving the bare, tanned skin a soft squeeze. "Did you ask?"

Mapi nods as she eases the car to a stop at a red light. "Talk later, she said. So obstinada." She grumbles.

Ingrid couldn't help but smile, "Like you, you mean?" She teases, earning herself a playful punch to the arm.

"She is worse." The Spaniard grumbles, and Ingrid laughs softly.

With a quiet sigh, you place your AirPod back into your ear. You were stubborn, she was right. But it wasn't like you weren't willing to talk about it. You just didn't want to do so where there was a risk somebody would hear.

The looming conversation ahead seemed way more daunting now.

*

"Go shower, bebé," Mapi finally breaks the silence as Ingrid closes the front door and locks it behind her, and you nod mutely as you kick of your shoes and make your way down the hall to their bathroom. Their bathroom. Ingrid and Mapi's. Not yours. That thought alone makes your eyes burn with tears.

Pathetic.

You miss the look of concern shared between both women share as you close the bathroom door behind you.

"I need to text Ona." Mapi murmurs as she pulls out her phone, a gentle hand resting atop of her own stopping her in her tracks.

"Qué?"

Ingrid shakes her head, "I know it's hard, but you need to let her come to us. It's obvious that she doesn't want us to know what happened with her and Ona, and we need to respect that. Forcing her to talk will only end badly."

Mapi sighs, knowing her girlfriend was right. Still, she couldn't help but push.

"But, what if-”

"No, kjære," Ingrid takes both Mapi's hand in her own and squeezes. "Let her come to us."

"Sí, mi amor."

Both knew the topic of conversation between you and Ona had evidently been about them. If not, you would have come to them. Just like you had when Lucy had said something to upset you. It wasn't like you to push them away. Mapi knew that. She also knew Ingrid was right about letting you come to them, despite her reluctance to do everything possible to figure out what was going on.

"Okay. Go find us a movie to watch. I'll make a start on diner." Ingrid places a soft kiss against the Spaniards cheek before disappearing through to the kitchen. Mapi watches her go before letting out a quiet sigh and curling up on the corner of the couch, picking up the remote to turn on the tv.

You finish with your shower long before Ingrid finishes with dinner, and you appear in the threshold of the living room clad in both their clothes. Ingrid's sweater, and Mapi's sweatpants, your hair wet and hanging down by your face.

Mapi gestures you over with one of those smiles that makes you melt, "Let me do your hair, amor. Sit." She opens her legs and pats the spot in between them. Your reluctance was evident as you comply, placing your hands on either of the Spaniards thighs as you settle and allow her to start combing through your hair.

"Dinner smells good." You finally find it within you to talk as you feel Mapi's fingers beginning to part your hair with the intention of braiding it. You didn't like leaving your hair down to sleep, and you found it endearing that Mapi had somehow remembered that fact despite it being weeks since you’d told her.

"Mhh," Mapi hums, "huele deliciosa." She agrees.

After tying off your hair with a hair tie, Mapi's tattooed arms loop around your waist, her hands clasped together against your stomach. You expect her to talk. To push you into opening up about what had happened earlier. But she surprisingly does neither. She simply rests her chin against your shoulder and presses a kiss to your cheek before once again picking up the remote.

"You pick." She mumbles into your ear, and you nod, eyes skimming over the screen.

Ingrid makes her way into the room just as you'd decided on the lion king, carrying a plate in either hand. She hands one off to both you and Mapi before once again disappearing and returning with her own.

It was pasta. Your favourite.

"Gracias." Mapi grins, settling back against the couch with you still between her legs and shoving a large forkful of food into her mouth.

Ingrid stares at you with a smile, one you couldn't help but mimic as you both watch the Spaniard stuff her face. Knowing you were in the way, you shift yourself over Mapi's leg and settle on the couch between them instead.

You ignore Mapi's playful pout at the action.

"Thank you." You whisper, and Ingrid smiles again as she gives your thigh a squeeze.

"You're welcome, elskling."

It didn't take long before dinner was quickly demolished, three empty plates sat on the coffee table as the three of you lay comfortably on the couch. You were in between Ingrid's legs now, your back to her chest with one of her arms wrapped securely around your waist. Mapi was curled up next you both, her head on Ingrid's shoulder as the Norwegian combs her fingers through her hair.

The defenders arm was thrown lazily over your stomach, tattooed hand resting on the gentle curve of your waist. Your own hand settles on top of her arm, the pad of your thumb trailing over warm skin. 

The silence between you was comfortable. You were comfortable. So much so you almost want to bring up the elephant in the room. It couldn’t be that bad, right?

You sit up suddenly, yanking yourself out of both woman's grip. Mapi whines unhappily, but Ingrid nudges her softly as she shakes her head and sits up too.

Understanding, Mapi sighs lightly and forces herself to sit in front of you, her rear end perched on the edge of the coffee table. She tries to take your hands, but frowns when you gently push them away.

"I told Ona." You blurt out.

Ingrid's eyes widen, but you didn't need to see it to know she was disappointed. You could tell by the way an alarmed Mapi meets her gaze over your shoulder. You desperately try and fix your mistake.

"Well, I didn't tell her. We were talking, and it just slipped out. I didn't mean for it to happen. I swear. It was just a joke. I mean, it wasn't a joke. I was just trying to tell her a joke. That's when it happened. Please don't be mad. Or well, you can be mad. I betrayed your trust. But please don't be mad. It was an accident, I swear." You weren't aware that you had started crying until you feel Mapi's hands cup your cheeks and wipe away your tears.

Her hands were warm, and you relish in the feeling as you force yourself to take a few breaths. Ingrid's arms, you now notice, were tight around you too, her hands beneath your shirt resting on the bare skin of your stomach. You inhale and exhale, feeling her hands move with you.

"It is okay," Mapi was the first to speak, scooting a little closer and moving her hands to rest on either of your thighs. You desperately cling to to them with your own. "I am not mad. And Ingrid is not too, right?"

"Right." The Norwegian murmurs in your ear, her chin hooked over your shoulder. Her hair tickles your cheek.

"But I told..." You whisper, your voice breaking slightly, leaning back into Ingrid as much as your body would allow.

"Sí. You did," Mapi agrees. "But it was an accident, no? You did not mean to."

"Mapi's right, elskling."

"I always am." Mapi smirks, and you couldn't help but laugh when Ingrid playfully kicks her with her foot.

"She is right,” Ingrid repeats. “We are not mad at you. Being mad at you for something you didn't mean to do would be stupid. And besides, it's about time we start letting people know, mhhh?"

You blink, craning your head to the side so you were more or less looking Ingrid in the eye. She stares down at you, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your nose. It scrunches up at the action, and both she and Mapi share a look when you flush and bashfully stare down at your lap. When Mapi reaches out to take your hands again, this time you let her.

"You want to tell people? About us?" You murmur.

This was not how you thought this conversation would go.

"Mhh," Ingrid nods. "Sí." Mapi agrees.

"But, what if..." you trail off.

"What if what, amor? Talk to us, por favor." Mapi coaxes, squeezing your hands again. You look up at her, and she smiles oh so gently at you it has your mouth opening before you could give it permission to do so.

"People will talk. About us. And that won't bother me, not really. But I don't want you guys to change your mind. You were perfect before, and I don't exactly bring anything to the table." You admit.

"Baby, no. Do not think like that. This is new, yes, but that does not mean we have any doubts," Ingrid starts, her frown identical to Mapi's whose eyes have grown shiny at your words. "I can almost guarantee people will talk. That's just what they do when they see something that they're not used to. But that doesn't mean their opinions matter."

You nod, feeling something inside you slotting into place.

"My opinion, yours, Ingrid's are what matter amor. If we are happy, then that is all that matters, sí?"

"Sí." You nod.

"You are happy?" Mapi pushes, and you nod with a genuine smile. "Bueno. Now stand, por favor." She holds her hands out for you to take, and you place your own into them allowing her to easily pull you to your feet. With a kiss to your forehead, she takes your place in between Ingrid's legs and tugs on the material of your sweater to pull you closer.

You yet again comply, ending up sat on her lap with your legs either side of her hips atop of Ingrid's thighs. Mapi's arms loop tightly around your waist, holding you tightly to them both, and you melt in their embrace as you rest your head against her shoulder.

Ingrid's face was just millimetres away from your own, and you smile when you feel her lips press softly against the top of your head.

"Something to the table. What does that mean?" Mapi settles back into Ingrid when she feels the Norwegian secure her arms around both herself and you.

Your eyes rip open. Damn. You hoped they wouldn't bring this part up. When Ingrid remains silent, it becomes clear she expects you to answer Mapi's question. So with a sigh, you do.

"It's an idiom. It means to do something that will benefit others." You mumble, less than happy.

Mapi's eyebrows furrow.

"You do not think you benefit us?" She places her hands on each of your sides and gently tugs your upper body away from her. You let her, but not without a pout and refusing to meet her eyes.

"Bebé, look at me por favor."

You shake your head.

"Elskling." Ingrid's warning voice echos around the room along with her fingers tapping gently under your chin, and you sigh heavily as you comply with the Spaniards words. Mapi's eyes immediately meet your own, but they didn't hold the stern look Ingrid's did.

"You do not think you benefit us?" She asks again, and you hesitate to shake your head.

"Por qué?"

"I don't know. I just...your relationship was perfect before me." You fumble with the chain hanging from Mapi's neck.

"No relationship is perfect, my love." Ingrid cuts in, Mapi nodding in agreement. "We love each other, yes. But all couples have their issues. Including us."

"If anything, being with you only makes us stronger. Because now there's three of us, instead of two. Meaning there is lots more love and time to go around." Ingrid hand grips your thigh and squeezes. You rest your own on top of it, gripping her fingers and squeezing hard.

Mapi nuzzles her nose with your own for a second before dropping her head back onto Ingrid's shoulder. "You make us better, sí?" She reaches up and cups your cheek, her thumb grazing gently over the still damp skin.

Your lips quirk up into a hesitant smile.

"There's that smile." Ingrid coos, and you flush slightly as you fall forward into their arms, hiding your face into the Spaniards neck. Mapi grins as she cups the back of your head, and Ingrid mimics is as she presses a kiss to her cheek.

"Our girl."

**

@ktgoodmorning @goldenempyrean @girlgenius1111 @alexias-putellas @mapis-russo @wileys-russo

[wooziorgans]

hey s2 soooo i was thinking about something and i know that you are the one to do this

woozi hasn't had the opportunity to eat you out yet, you've already done a lot but as you never mentioned it he thought you didn't want to or weren't comfortable yet, so one day when you're making out and he's starting to get horny he whispers "sit on my face" and now its up to you

k byeeee

— face sitting

good god. why do you always,,,,, do this. i love ur brain but also why god why me. also sorry this took me so long,,,, we r not gonna talk abt it.

you’ve been with jihoon for a few months, and in those few months, you’ve learned more about him than you did in the years of friendship. you know that he likes to eat, and he eats well, given the pure amount of muscle on him. you know that, while he says he’s not big on skin-ship, it’s a lie. one look from you, and he’s opening his arms to cuddle.

you know he loves his friends with his entire heart, and is willing to give them as much as he can in terms of support. you know he likes to go for walks late at night when he can’t sleep, or when he wants to simply enjoy some time outside with his thoughts.

what you’ve learned has been on the complete opposite of the spectrum. you know that jihoon likes to give, but this also extends to the bedroom. he’ll spend hours working you up, teasing you and then fucking you with his fingers before finally sinking his cock into you. he has this super human ability to make you cum, and he uses it to his advantage.

you’ve learned he likes getting head, but he’d much rather fuck you. you’ve learned that he’s a sensual kisser; he lets it linger before giving you anything solid to build off of. he makes you chase his lips, teasing you endlessly when you have the time.

you’ve also learned that his frustration with his job manifests itself sexually. he’ll perfectly service dom you through multiple orgasms as a way to relieve his stress. sometimes he’ll just pull you onto his lap and kiss you stupid until you’re grinding against his thigh, desperate for something more.

you love giving him head though, but he seems to be completely indifferent towards doing the same to you. it’s a little confusing, considering how much he seems to use his tongue in other ways with you. you know he’s skilled with his mouth, that much is evident from the way he kisses and sings.

today is just one of those days where jihoon wasn’t able to burn off enough steam at the gym. he’s frustrated over a moved deadline the company gave him, now having to work twice as hard to get things done. you finished work early, and jihoon invited you over to hang out.

you can tell from the lines on his face that you’ll be doing more than just ‘hanging out’, but it’s not like you mind. jihoon pulls you into his bed, the television in his room on. you’re cushioned in between his thick thighs, wrapped safely in his arms when he starts peppering soft kisses to your neck.

it makes you shiver, hands grabbing at his arms before you decide to rotate to straddle his thighs. jihoon rests his hands on your hips, pulling you close and in for a kiss. you return it eagerly, hands finding the sides of his face.

jihoon’s hands start wandering, pushing their way under your hoodie to graze the skin of your back. his tongue slips its way into your mouth, and you moan softly. this seems to do something to jihoon, and his hand slips down to grope your ass.

you make out for god knows how long, hips moving against each others as you kiss. jihoon seems to just drink in all of the small sounds you make, hands moving around to grab and squeeze whatever he can reach.

it all comes to fruition when you stop being able to kiss him, whining into his mouth as you grind on his thigh. “fuck, sit on my face.” jihoon whispers, pulling away for a second to just watch you take what you need from him. you stop immediately, pulling back further to look at him.

“sorry, what did you say?” you blink a few times at him, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“if you don’t want to, that’s okay. you’ve never really given me anything that suggested you’d be into that.” he back tracks immediately, face reddening as he realizes he said that out loud.

“no, repeat yourself. what did you say?” your hand brushes the side of his neck and he shivers, knowing he can’t get out of this.

“um, sit on my face?” it’s a question this time. his hesitancy makes you laugh softly as you brush his hair out of his face.

“god, jihoon,” you sigh softly, already dripping at the idea of him being tongue deep inside of you. “you’re sure?” you ask, fingers threading in his hair. he hums softly.

“yeah, fuck. wanna eat you out so bad, baby.” he coos, almost condescending as his hands grab at your sweatpants. you let him pull them down, underwear going with them. you shift off his lap to kick them off and jihoon takes the opportunity to slide down the bed so he’s lying down.

with your bottom half now exposed, you straddle his lap again, arousal seeping into his own sweats. he’s painfully hard in his sweats, cock straining against the fabric. he hisses when you sink down before his hands find you ass again.

he pulls you up, and you wiggle your way up the bed until you’re over his chest. “how do you want me?” you ask, unsure of if he wants you to face him or turn the other way.

“just like this is fine.” jihoon hums, pulling you closer to his face. he starts to tease your folds with two fingers, gathering your arousal with his fingers before he pushes them inside. you’re already wet enough for them to just slide in.

you moan at the intrusion, his other hand firm on your hips to keep you from moving. jihoon fucks them in and out of you slowly, watching the way you suck his digits in. he pulls them out after a few seconds, using both hands to pull you down onto his face.

jihoon sticks his tongue out, licking a long stripe over your folds. you react immediately at the warmth and wetness of his tongue, shivering as you let out a low moan. jihoon does it again, tongue gathering your arousal to pull it into his mouth. he moans softly, already completely in love with the way you taste.

jihoon’s nose brushes against your clit, and you jerk harshly, hands finding their spot in his hair. you smooth it out, moving it out of the way. he licks another stripe up your fold, this time stiffening his tongue to go deeper. his lips latch around your clit, suctioning to it and flicking his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

jihoon focuses his attention on your clit, alternating different kinds of suction and patterns with his tongue to figure out what works. he brings his hand back up to your ass, kneading the skin softly before he pushes two fingers back inside of you.

it’s too much, all at once. the small noises he makes as he eats you out, the lewd, wet noises coming from his mouth, and his fingers pressing into your spot send you over the edge. you tighten your grip in his hair, head leaning against the headboard as you gasp out a warning.

jihoon keeps his pace steady on your clit as you cum, before he pulls his fingers out and laps at your release. it drips down his chin, but he can’t stop, even after you start to squirm in overstimulation.

you lift your hips up off his face before shifting to lay down beside him. jihoon pulls you into a kiss, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. you whine into his mouth, hands grabbing at his cock through the fabric of his sweats.

jihoon pulls away, “give yourself a minute to breathe, love.” he coos. you nod, pushing your head against his chest. he strokes your hair softly, massaging your scalp. your hands still push their way under his sweats and into his boxers.

jihoon hisses softly. “you’re insatiable.” he moans, a breathy laugh falling from his lips.

“you started it.” you murmur, craning your head up to kiss his neck. maybe he did. either way, it’s gonna be a long night. especially with what you’ve just learned about your boyfriend.

[gingersxng]

Caught In The Act

Pairing: f!reader x Yunho

Genre: smut 18+, angst?

Summary: you finally caught your boyfriend in the act after months of cheating.

Notes: gf!reader, dom!reader, bf!yunho, switch!yunho, yunho is a manwhore, bigdick!yunho, cheating, getting caught in the act, unprotected sex (DONT), punishment, teasing, nipple play, fingering, cumming. May have forgot something!

Words: 1.3k

You and Yunho had been in a kinda messy relationship for 6 months. It was now very common for you to spend some of the nights alone without your boyfriend’s presence while he was out doing other stuff. You knew he slept around with other girls, the horny manwhore he was. You loved him so much that you actually accepted his behaviour, as long as you couldn’t see anything it didn’t happen you thought to yourself and you knew that he loved you more than everything.

All it took was some random girl to bite her lip or show a bit of cleavage for Yunho to go crazy and drag her to the nearest bathroom or whatever he could find… well tonight unfortunately it was your shared bed.

You stormed through the front door of your apartment, your heart racing with a mixture of anger and hurt. You had just received a tip-off from a friend about your boyfriend and now you was about to catch him red-handed. As you quietly made your way down the hallway, the sounds of passion and pleasure filled your ears, confirming your worst fears.

Stepping into the bedroom your blood boiled at the erotic sight in front of you. There he was, your so-called boyfriend, thrusting vigorously into some random girl, his big body dominating the petite stranger. The girl's moans echoed through the room, a stark contrast to your seething silence. Yunho's eyes were closed, his face contorted in pure ecstasy as he pounded away, completely oblivious to your presence.

"You fucking bastard!" Your voice cut through the air, sharp as a whip.

Startled, Yunho froze mid-thrust, his brown eyes widening as he turned to face you. The girl beneath him, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, quickly scrambled off the bed, covering her naked body with the sheets and got out of there in a flash.

"Y/N... baby, it's not what you think," Yunho stammered, his face flushing with a mix of guilt and arousal. His thick, veiny cock, still glistening with the girl's juices, stood erect, a testament to his recent activities.

"Not what I think? Really?" Your voice dripped with sarcasm as you took in the scene. The tangled sheets, the used condom on the bedside table, and the unmistakable scent of sex hanging heavy in the air. "You're fucking some random slut in our bed, and it's not what I think? You're a fucking manwhore, Yunho!"

Yunho's mouth opened and closed like a fish, struggling to form a coherent response. He knew he was caught, and the evidence of his infidelity was as plain as the hard-on that still tented the sheets.

"Get out of my sight," you spat, your hands balling into fists. "I want you out of this apartment by tomorrow. And take your pathetic dick with you because you're not getting a second chance at fucking me."

As you turned to leave, Yunho's hand shot out, grasping your wrist tightly. "Wait, Y/N. Please, just hear me out."

You glared at him, your eyes flashing with fury. "Let go of me, you asshole. I swear, if you don't let go right now, I'll scream and have you arrested for assault."

Yunho's grip loosened, but he didn't release you. "I know I fucked up, okay? I'm a dick, but I love you. I'm sorry. Please, just give me one chance to make it up to you."

You snorted derisively. "Make it up to me? How? By fucking me in this bed where you just had some nameless girl? No thanks. I've had enough of your bullshit."

"I'll do whatever it takes," he pleaded, his eyes pleading. "I'll do anything to keep you, Y/N. Please, just give me a chance to prove myself."

You studied him for a moment, your mind racing. Despite your anger, a small part of you was intrigued by his offer. Perhaps you could use this situation to your advantage, to teach him a lesson he'd never forget.

"Fine," you said finally, her voice cold. "But on one condition."

Yunho's eyes lit up with hope. "Anything, baby. Just name it."

"You will do exactly as I say, no questions asked. If you agree to that, I might consider giving you a chance to redeem yourself."

He nodded eagerly, his eyes fixed on you. "I agree. Whatever you want, I'll do it."

"Good," you purred, a devilish smile spreading across your face. "Then let's start with your punishment, shall we?"

Without waiting for a response you grabbed Yunho's hand and pulled him towards the bed. You pushed him down onto the mattress, his back hit the headboard hard and you straddled his waist, your short skirt riding up your thighs.

"You like fucking other girls, huh? Well, let's see how you like being fucked by me," you whispered seductively, your fingers reaching for the button of your blouse.

Yunho's eyes widened as you slowly unbuttoned your top, revealing your lace bra and the swell of your breasts. His cock, already semi-hard from the earlier encounter, began to stir again, thickening under your gaze.
"That's right, you filthy whore-lover," you taunted, your hands cupping your breasts, squeezing and teasing your sensitive nipples through the lace. "You're going to watch me pleasure myself while you lie there and do nothing. That's your punishment for being a cheating piece of shit."

As you spoke, your fingers worked the clasp of the bra, freeing your round and firm breasts. You leaned forward, your hard nipples grazing his chest, your breath hot on his skin. Yunho's cock twitched, straining against his stomach, but he didn't dare move, knowing any sign of resistance would only prolong his agony.

Your fingers drifted down your body, tracing the line of your waist before slipping beneath the waistband of your skirt. You moaned softly as your fingers found your wetness, stroking your clit, your pussy already aching for release.

"You like that, don't you? Watching me touch myself, imagining it's some random slut's hand on my pussy instead of yours," you teased, your fingers delving deeper, sliding through your slick folds. "Well, guess what? You're not getting a taste of this sweet pussy until I say so. And if you even think about touching yourself, I'll stop and leave you high and dry."

Yunho's breath hitched as he watched your fingers disappear into your pussy, his cock throbbing with need. He yearned to thrust his hips, to bury himself deep inside you, but he knew he had to endure this punishment if he wanted a chance at redemption.

Your moans filled the room as you fucked yourself with your fingers, your hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm. Your eyes never left his, daring him to look away, to break the intense connection that bound you in this moment of forbidden pleasure.

"That's it, Yunho," you whispered. "Watch me cum, you filthy pervert. Imagine it's some other girl riding your cock, but remember, it's my pussy that's getting off, not yours."

Your fingers worked faster, your hips bucking against your hand as you neared your climax. Yunho's eyes were locked on you, his mouth dry as he fought the urge to beg for release. He wanted to taste you so bad, to feel your tight pussy clenching around his cock, but he knew he had to earn that privilege.

With a cry of pleasure, your body stiffened, your pussy clenching around your fingers as you came, your juices flooding down your hand and onto Yunhos dick.

You collapsed against him, your breath ragged, your heart pounding.

"There," you said satisfied. "That's your punishment for now. But remember, this is just the beginning. If you want to prove yourself, you'll do whatever I say, no matter how depraved or humiliating it might be."

Yunho nodded, his eyes burning with a mixture of desire and determination. "I'll do whatever it takes, Y/N. Just tell me what you want, and I'll make it happen."

A wicked smile played on your lips as you considered the possibilities. "Oh, I have plenty of ideas, believe me. And if you thought this was humiliating, just wait until tomorrow. Because that's when the real fun begins."

[literaticat]

I'm at my wit's end. I've spent a decade trying to break through - 10 years with 5 novels coming super close with a variety of big publishers, who rave about my writing, ideas, etc. Feedback has been mostly positive. One even rejected saying "I don't know why we're rejecting this, it's EXACTLY what we're looking for and ticks all our boxes, but we feel compelled to reject it anyway." Is there just a "Do Not Publish" sign on my head? How to keep pushing ahead after so long and so much rejection?

(OP continues...) "Sorry about the rant, Jenn, and I know there's not much you can say as you don't know my specific situation. But it's just maddening. 10+ years of my life! I know everyone faces rejection, but I seem to mostly get positive feedback and so many "close calls" of almost getting a deal - a lot of interest, but then it just peters out. That "compelled to reject anyway" just made me start feeling like I'm just fated to never be published, no matter what? I'm unagented now, starting from scratch..."

OK first of all -- that rejection, if that is literally what they said, is utterly insane. I have to presume (HOPE? PRAY?) that you are paraphrasing, that that is what it *felt* like to you, but that's not LITERALLY what they said??? Because there are certainly things where, on the surface, yes, this is what a publisher is looking for and it "ticks the boxes", but ultimately, it doesn't have that X-factor, je ne sais quois, or whatever -- so I can see a publisher saying something like, "while the writing is admirable and the premise is interesting, ultimately, we weren't compelled enough to make an offer for publication" -- which is ALMOST what you said, but there's a key difference that makes it actually normal and not insane. Because in YOUR version, it sounds like they are under an imperius curse or something, where they don't know what they are doing or why they are doing it, they just have to do it, even though it is against what WOULD be their better judgment if they weren't cursed. And... it's wild to think that a publisher would make a statement like that. (Maybe they were having a very OFF DAY???) -- BUT ANYWAY, on to the crux of your question/rant:

I understand your frustration. If it makes you feel any better (??), you're not alone. I know many -- MANY -- MANY career authors, who spent 10 years honing their craft, trying and failing, getting rejections, getting close-but-no-cigars, etc. I was chatting with a wise (and now famous) author I know, who spent 10 years or so in the query/wrong-agent/rejection/close-call trenches. She told me a theory that I feel pretty sure is right, though I don't have proof per se, it does track with my observations. She said:

Just about everyone who sticks with writing or the arts in general as a career has about a ten-year rough patch. That doesn't mean it takes everyone ten years to get published! (Though it does take LOTS of people 10+ years) -- Some lucky people get their break a lot sooner than that. BUT. Everyone has to pay the piper that ten year fee, either all at once, or in installments. So let's say you sell your book right away and start raking in the accolades etc -- fab! Just know that nobody stays popular and beloved forever, and at some point, the ten year slump is coming for you. Aren't you lucky that you're getting yours out of the way now?

OK, if that didn't work for you, how about this:

How to keep pushing ahead after so long and so much rejection?

You know you don't have to, right?

Like, if writing and seeking traditional publication is making you miserable -- you can stop. In fact, stopping may be a great idea.

I say this not to be discouraging, but rather, encouraging, actually. I encourage you to give yourself permission to prioritize your own mental and emotional well-being.

If you realize you miss writing and can't live without it -- go back to it! But maybe instead of having "publication" as your goal, your goal can be writing for the pure joy of it, without worrying about future queries or would-be agents or anyone else's expectations. What freedom! Embrace that!

Then when you do have a brand-new shiny manuscript, you can decide your next steps. Maybe it's trying again for traditional publishing, and this is the turn around the track that changes everything. (It should be close, if the 10 year theory is correct!)

OR, maybe it's self-publishing. (Lots of people have a lot of success there -- maybe you're one of them!) --

OR, maybe it's just chilling out and writing some more for your own pleasure -- creating art for the sake of creating it, for fun, for self-fulfillment, etc. Like, you know, a normal hobby, that nobody is expecting you to monetize or make into a "gig".

[capquinn]

So I’m a kindergarten teacher and I had the sweetest interaction today. I was having a weird afternoon emotionally. Just felt off and couldn’t quite place why. Anyway, I’m sitting on a mat helping a child do a puzzle, and one of my longtime kiddos (known her since she was a teeny tiny baby) hugs me from behind and just whispers, “I love you,” and oh my god….. Instant serotonin boost. So I told her dad all about it when he picked her up, and he says she likes to say it at random times but it’s always when you need to hear it most.

Which leads me into dad!quinn and Bug after this horrible game.

From the second the final buzzer sounds, Quinn can’t shake the frustration that clings to him. Every missed pass, every failed play replayed in his head, looping endlessly as he stripped off his gear in silence. The plane ride back to Vancouver was no better — he stared out the window, jaw tight, his thoughts too loud to focus on the low chatter around him. By the time he pulls into the driveway, his body is heavy with exhaustion, but his mind still running, stuck on everything he couldn’t fix. Even home, his refuge, felt miles away.

But the second he steps through the door, it’s like a switch flips. Buggy comes bounding over, her little feet thundering against the floor as she throws herself at him.

“Daddy!” she shrieks, her arms wrapping tightly around his legs, her tiny face pressed against him.

And suddenly, there’s this warmth that starts to seep into him. She’s already yapping away — telling him about her day, something silly Cub did the day before, and whatever episode of Bluey they watched on repeat while he was gone. It’s impossible not to smile because it’s Bug, and she’s pure sunshine.

After dinner, when things wind down, and they’re on the couch, Bug tucked against his side, the TV playing softly in the background, Quinn starts to slip back into his own head. His brows knit together, his jaw tightens — he’s replaying that one turnover, that one chance he didn’t capitalise on. But then Bug notices. Of course she notices, because she always does. She’s his mini-me, after all.

“Hey, daddy?” she whispers, her little voice soft but insistent enough to pull him out of his spiral.

When he looks down at her, she’s already staring up at him with those big, earnest eyes, her little hand resting on his chest.

“I love you,” she says, so simply, so genuinely, like it’s the most important thing she could ever tell him in that moment.

And God, it just hits him. Like a breath of fresh air, like something he didn’t know he needed to hear right now but now can’t imagine going without. The game? The frustration? The weight of it all? It just slips away because this is what matters. His little girl, her quiet reminder that the world is so much bigger than hockey.

So he hugs her a little tighter, kisses the top of her head, and whispers, “I love you too, Bug.”

And for the first time all day, his shoulders relax. He’s reminded to be where his feet are — right there, on the couch, with his family.

[seishihoe]

ZzzZzzzzzzzZz - falling asleep during the act feat. my JJK faves.

- headcanons feat. gojo, geto, nanami, mahito & choso x fem!reader

**MINORS DNI: 18+ INTERACTIONS ONLY - you will be blocked**

c/w: SMUT, (consensual) somnophilia (duh), dubcon/passing out (mahito/geto), ROUGH SEX (mahito; he comes with his own warning tbh), praise, pet names, oral (f!receiving), penetration, multiple orgasms/implied overstimulation, squirting, tiny bit of daddy kink (gojo), cream pie, mating press

a/n: BACK FROM THE DEAD! some headcanons i wrote a lil rushed but starting to branch out into jjk so watch this space for more! beta read and with approval by the loml @tkagayamass

gojo “my girl getting sleepy?” his voice murmurs in your ear as all you can manage back is a feeble nod. what you don't expect is for him to pick up the pace, hips hammering faster against you as he’s determined to feel you clench around him again. yes, with gojo, it can last hours. who can blame you for beginning to drift off? now on your sides, your back clasped to his chest as he ruts up into you. “don’t have to do anything princess”. exhausted, spent and ruined long ago, he finally notices you beginning to reach your limit. he may fuck like a blue-eyed demon but gojo’s not cruel….. just determined. all that repeats in his mind is “one more.” it’s the soft kiss he plants on your cheek that makes you melt in his arms and you will yourself to stay awake at the sound of the next words out of his mouth.

“just know you can give daddy one more.”

that’ll do it. geto geto always enjoys caging you in against the bed with his big frame, his intimidating figure assuring him that you're not going anywhere anytime soon... as well as allowing him to intently watch all exquisite faces you make on the end of his cock. “t-too much,” you manage to whimper out, only to be met with a chiding huff of a laugh. too easy.

he licks a stripe up your neck as you whimper again, a dizzying arousing purr of “so weak” as he pushes your legs to your chest; the small spot of mercy you thought he had reserved for you gone. your next orgasm has you screaming out, gushing around his thick cock so hard it makes him proud. your vision blurs as your finally black out, surrendering completely to him.

you don’t know how long it takes to him to finish this time. only waking up again to his head nestled between your thighs; cleaning you up in his favourite way

nanami nanami more than anyone understands a long, hard day. he’s more than happy to indulge in whatever will make you feel better - bonus if that involves using himself to see out the rest of the stress still lingering from a dismal day of work. 

when you're in bed with nanami, nothing else in the world matters. only you. his attention to your body, facial expression, the sounds that leave your drooling mouth is unparalleled; he’s focused only on you. so when he notices the way your eyelids droop, his thrusts falter, a gentle palm cupping your cheek as he muses over you. “my love, you’ve had enough for now.”

he pulls out of you gently, shushing as you let out soft whines of protest. watching him paint his seed all over the folds of your pussy is the last image before you finally drift off to a peaceful slumber. mahito we all know that ever since mahito learned what sex is (i blame geto) it quickly became his most favourite game with his favourite human. another way to experiment…

he loves it. it reminds him of what you truly are - just a fragile, little human. his plaything. pushing your limits in most delicious ways until your legs shake and your pussy gushes gorgeously all over him and the sheets. his only goal pure pleasure and leaving you a complete wreck. he doesn’t care if it hurts, if it’s too much or especially if you’re completely exhausted.

honestly? it really isn’t that unusual for any intimate moment ending in you passing out with mahito. your pleads of “enough” fall on deaf ears, giggling as he forces your head further into the bed, propping your ass up further for him to take you. “but doesn’t it just feel so good?” and it does. so you give in every time, falling limp against the sheets, letting mahito have his fun.

sometimes shoots his load on your face when you’re asleep

choso oh sweet, soft, pussy-whipped choso. no matter how late it is, I truly believe this man can’t sleep without at least tasting you. choso kamo practically gasps with with each roll of his tongue against your clit, completely entranced by your taste. every suck, flick and lick is laced with love. the problem is, he just doesn’t know when to stop. spurred on by incessant need to have you come undone again and again. your whines raising an octave higher and higher after the third, fourth, FIFTH orgasm. after a while he notices the way your eyes begin to flutter shut softly, exhaustion taking over. 

“sleep away, angel.” he murmurs gently from between your legs, “just let me make you feel good, yeah?”

and so with a shaky, shy nod - you let him. relaxed into the sheets, closing your eyes as you let choso enjoy himself. waking up over and over from your hazy slumber to the achingly sweet rush of another and another and ANOTHER orgasm. sometimes it's like you don't even wake up, just an endless stream of semi-conscious pleasure as this man drinks in your essence like he's dying of thirst.

don’t worry, he’ll always clean up and make sure you’re all tucked in once he finally gives himself a break. can you tell he's my favourite?

✨ tell me your favourite, feedback/reblogs/asks v appreciated :} ✨

!! DO NOT REPOST!!

[astaroth1357]

Oh God, What Have We Done??: Father!Belphegor Headcanons

You know, I was going to write this for Simeon, and I still might, but Belphie lost the Dad poll and I must right an injustice when I see one.

Content: Somehow incredibly fluffy with Big Happy Family vibes; mostly meme fodder

~♡♡♡~

I refuse to believe this could have been planned. No person in their right mind is going to look at Belphie and go, "Oh yeah. That's some real good father material right there!" Belphegor wouldn't even say that to himself.

Either a condom broke, a pill was skipped, or some orphaned demon child imprinted on these two like a baby duck and followed them home. Either way, NO ONE wanted this, but it's happening.

Belphegor's reaction to realizing that he's a Dad:

Everyone else's reaction to realizing Belphegor is a Dad:

Beel's reaction to realizing that he is an Uncle:

But seriously though, Beel is the only one with any kind of unwavering faith that his twin can pull this off. Never doubts him for a second and never will.

Everybody else though....? Well. Satan is already cleaning out the local libraries of their parenting books, Asmo's searching Mommy blogs, and Lucifer keeps staring off into the middle distance like he's questioning every single life decision that has brought them to this point. Fear is rampant, despair is on high.

The biggest worry is that Belphegor is going to leave MC more or less high and dry. He's not exactly known to be a "go-getter" when times are tough and though he has his soft side, sure, no one would call it particularly "nurturing."

Diavolo and Barbs weren't even sure if they should announce the news to the realm. Of course one of the Lords of the Hell having an offspring is a pretty big deal but under these circumstances...

What if it was treated like a joke by the populous? Painting a target for ridicule on Belphie and MC's backs had to be the LAST thing anybody wanted...

Even Belphegor, in a pretty heartbreaking moment of self-reflection, tried to convince Beel to take over for him instead. Not to shirk the responsibility, but out of pure acknowledgement that he would make the better father between them...

Beel, of course, was not having this for a second. And you know what? Everyone would do well to listen to the wisdom of Beel! Because he knew instinctively something that everyone else had conveniently forgotten-

No matter the circumstances, Belphie's kid was a part of the family. And that meant that they, the MC, and even Belphie himself were never going to be doing this alone.

And that fact was proven quickly enough when every member of the family, extended or otherwise, stepped up to lend a hand.

Levi and Mammon took it on themselves to go out and buy whatever baby items they needed and seemingly came in every day with handfuls upon handfuls of bottles, baby gates, socket covers, and TOYS (literally so many toys. They bought more toys than diapers).

Lucifer and Asmo set to work on renovating a nursery/kid's room almost immediately. The eldest had the plans drafted within a week of the news while Asmo buried MC and Belphie in paint swatches and magazine catalogs for the walls and decor.

Satan roped Beel in to help him train Belphegor to be a little less lazy and more attentive to the MC and the baby. Even going so far as to curse a baby monitor to sound like fog horn to him and only him if the kid began to cry.

The angels chipped in with gifts and free offers to babysit (mostly from Simeon, but Luke is already eyeing the little one like a baby sibling and is protective as such).

Solomon uh... Well Solomon offered to cook MC whatever they wanted through the pregnancy at first, but when that got a HARD veto he switched to just giving HoL a touch of magic baby proofing. Nobody can figure out how to get under the kitchen sink anymore, but that means the baby won't either!

And, of course, despite Belphegor not liking him much, Diavolo is probably the BEST psudeo-uncle a kid could have. He's already sent Barbatos out to curate the best baby food and Lucifer is training him on how to hold infants properly so he can take turns being babysitter with Simeon.

As a father... Belphie isn't perfect. He did whine more than a few times about no longer being the "baby" everyone doted on. A couple times, he may even act just as childish as his kid...

But in the moments late at night when he's rocking them in his arms, dead tired from being awake for hours but determined to make sure they sleep first...

Or when he's walking around the House with them tucked to his chest because they'll never cry if he holds them.

How he pays attention to every little thing that interests them so he can craft each of their dreams more exciting than the last...

Or how he, more than any of the others, knows what a precious treasure it is to be with those you love since you never know when they'll be gone...

He'll do alright. With the love and support of everyone else, their child will have everything they need...

As long as they don't turn out as spoiled as he is 💀

[queenshelby]

The Price for Fame (Part One)

Pairing: Dark!Cillian Murphy x Innocent!Reader

Warning: Manipulation, Infidelity, Smut, Dub-Con, Age-Gap, Cillian is being a bully in this one. It's pure filth.

Just last month, you turned eighteen and moved to Los Angeles to pursue your acting career.

With the help of your friend, Florence Pugh, you scored a role in a new movie which was produced by several big names in the industry, including 48-year-old Oscar winner Cillian Murphy.

Bold enough to believe that life as an acclaimed actress could be yours, you traded the innocence of a rural and religious upbringing for this glitzy haven where fame and glamour wove a pernicious network but it did not take long for things to fall out of place when you screwed up big time on set.

The embarrassment settled in like a slow, tormenting burn as you messed up your lines during a critical emotional scene as much as ten times, causing the shoot to be cut off momentarily. The director, Damien Chazelle, tried to hold his composure but the frustration simmered below the surface. You knew already that he had it out for you, wanting another actress to take your space, and your failure to perform this scene was simply the last straw for him and possibly the end of your career. 

Thus, a quick huddle of the film's top players led to Cillian pulling you aside.

"Let's have a chat," he said coolly, those famous blue eyes impaling you with a steely glare. It was more of a command than an invitation.

"Sure, Cillian. I am so sorry about what happened on set," you stammered, knowing what this was going to be about. 

He was one of the producers of the movie and it was his investment at stake, so you cut right to the chase, "I know you're disappointed but I swear it won't happen again. Anything you want me to do, I just want another chance."

Cillian studied your face for a beat, his blue eyes so piercing you thought he could see right down into the depths of your very soul.

"Let's talk in my trailer, Y/N," he finally said, and began striding off and you followed close behind, unsure of what to expect once you entered his inner sanctum. 

"Listen, I'm getting some heat thanks to you," he began as he sat down and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his bent knees. "Damien wants  you out and I'm getting slammed on all sides for not firing you."

"Listen, I'm getting some heat thanks to you," he began as he sat down and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his bent knees. "Damien wants  you out and I'm getting slammed on all sides for not firing you."

Your heart dropped into your stomach, the implications clear as day. You had to somehow atone for the massive screw-up on set and convince Cillian that you were still a valuable part of this project.

"Please, just tell me what to do and I'll do it," you said, looking him straight in the eye. "I can't afford to lose this opportunity. I'll do whatever it takes."

The words hung heavy in the air and Cillian seemed to consider them before finally responding.

"Whatever it takes, huh?" Cillian repeated, as if mulling over your words. His gaze never left yours, and the intensity of it made you squirm in your seat. "Well, you are a young and attractive woman, Y/N and we could, potentially, come to some kind of arrangement that would keep you employed on this film."

The implications of his words sent a shock through your system. Was he suggesting what you thought he was suggesting?

"What... what kind of arrangement?" you stammered, hating how weak you sounded but unable to control it.

Cillian leaned back in his seat now, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, I think you know."

You shook your head in confusion. You didn't though, not really.

But the way Cillian was looking at you, like you were some sort of puzzle to be figured out, made you feel exposed and vulnerable.

"You need to be more specific," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Cillian leaned forward again; his gaze unwavering. "Alright then. Let me be clear. I want to have you in my bed, every night, sometimes even during the day, until we are done filming," Cillian said, his gaze intense.

"What?" you exclaimed, your voice barely above a whisper. "You want me to, uhm, like have sex with you?" you asked and Cillian nodded almost bluntly.

Your mind raced as you tried to process his words. Was this some kind of joke? It had to be, right? Except Cillian's expression was completely serious.

"I don't understand," you said finally, your voice shaking. "Why would you want that? You are married and I am much younger than you," you protested, still reeling from his outlandish request.

Cillian sighed and rubbed his temples before looking back at you. "I am married but my wife is not here, and I do have needs, so this seems like an easy solution for me. Plus, I won't deny that I find you attractive," he told you and you swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. This was not what you had expected when you agreed to come to his trailer. Your mind raced as you tried to come up with a response that wouldn't ruin your career completely.

"I am flattered but I have a boyfriend and we were waiting until marriage, so I have never been intimate with anyone," you told Cillian, hoping that would put an end to this conversation. But instead of appearing taken aback, Cillian seemed almost pleased by this revelation.

"Really?" he said, with a cunning smile before carrying on. "Well, I can be gentle and, as I see it, no one needs to know about this arrangement. Not your boyfriend, not my wife, and especially not anyone on set," Cillian leaned in, whispering conspiratorially.  His piercing blue eyes bore into you, softening just slightly.

"I don't know. I don't think I can do this," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart was still racing, and your mind was swirling with indecision. On one hand, you couldn't afford to lose this opportunity, and on the other, you couldn't imagine betraying your boyfriend like this.

Cillian leaned back in his seat, studying you for a moment before speaking. "Look, Y/N, I understand your hesitation, but this is purely a business arrangement," Cillian said, his voice low and soothing as he tried to persuade you.

A silence fell between the two of you as you contemplated his words. The dilemma wrestling within you was palpable, the weight of the decision threatening to crush you.

His voice broke through the silence once more, "Think about it, Y/N. You need this role, and I need... well, I need something else."

Cillian's words lingered in the air, making you uncomfortable, and the thought of betraying your boyfriend's trust made your stomach churn.

"Okay, but you have to wear a condom and no kissing," you finally agreed, trying to put in some boundaries.

Cillian's face lit up with excitement as if he had just won a jackpot, but he quickly hid it with a mask of composure. "Of course, Y/N. Whatever makes you comfortable."

You felt violated by the sudden power shift, but you couldn't deny that Cillian was offering you a lifeline, an opportunity to save yourself from drowning in the cutthroat industry of Hollywood. You had come too far to throw it all away for principles that seemed so trivial now.

"Tonight, 8 o'clock at my house, wear something nice," Cillian instructed, before dismissing you with a wave.

The audacity of it all left you breathless. In no universe did you imagine that your innocence would be the currency for maintaining employment in this industry. Yet, here you were, walking away from his trailer, carrying the burden of a secret agreement that clashed heavily with your very soul.

***

Eight o'clock came around soon enough, and after hours of overthinking, you stood by Cillian's front door, wearing an elegant red dress and high heels. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you hesitated for a moment, hesitant to knock.

Cillian answered the door with a seductive smirk on his face. "Right on time," he drawled. His gaze raked over you, leaving a trail of discomfort in its wake. You murmured a soft greeting and stepped inside.

The terrace he was staying it for the duration of filming was nice, tastefully decorated and obviously very expensive.

Cillian led you to the living room where he handed you a glass of wine and whilst you did not usually drink alcohol, you decided tonight was different. You needed to calm your nerves and calm down your inhibitions. 

As you sipped on the red liquid, he gave you a tour of his house and, without losing too much time, he led you to his bedroom.

"Let's get this over with," you gasped quietly, trying to sound confident but your trembling voice betrayed your true emotions.

"Eager are we?" Cillian chuckled as you put down your half-finished wine and sat down on the edge of the mattress, noticing a packet of condoms and a bottle of lubricant on the nightstand.

"No, like I said, I just want to get this over with," you reiterated, biting your lower lip nervously. "I don't want this, but you do, and I want to keep my job, so let's just make this quick," you added, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Alright then," Cillian chuckled, that smug grin still on his face as he moved closer to you. Without losing any time, he pulled his t-shirt over his head before slowly undoing his belt. 

"Why don't you get down on to your knees and get me hard , hmm?" Cillian suggested, the lascivious look in his eyes causing you to shudder.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling repulsed at the idea of going down on him but before you could protest, he grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at him. "Don't pretend you don't want this," he growled, his hot breath on your face making you cringe.

"Okay," you nodded reluctantly, your voice barely above a whisper.

You sunk down to your knees on the plush carpet, feeling completely degraded and humiliated. You could feel the bile rising in your throat as you looked up at him, his crotch directly in front of your face.

Cillian's face was smug as he unzipped his jeans, tugging them down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, already semi-hard and pointing directly at your face.

"Go on then," he commanded gruffly, unaware that you had never done this before either. 

But you knew you couldn't refuse him. Not if you wanted to keep your job and avoid any negative consequences.

So with shaking hands, you reached up and wrapped your fingers around his thick shaft.

Cillian let out a low moan as you began to stroke him, your grip tight as you moved your hand up and down his length.  Your heart was pounding in your chest, and every movement made your stomach churn.

But you knew this was the price of maintaining your career, so you forced yourself to continue. 

Pre-cum glistened on the tip of his cock, an indication of his growing arousal and, even though you did not know what it was, you pulled away slightly.

"Now be a good girl for me and open your mouth ," Cillian demanded.

You hesitated again, feeling even more repulsed by the request. But you knew there was no room for hesitation or resistance, not if you wanted to keep your job and avoid any negative consequences. So, with trembling lips, you parted your mouth as wide as you could, trying to suppress the sick feeling rising up in your stomach.

"Now stick out your tongue," he ordered.

You did as you were told, sticking out your tongue and closing your eyes which is when Cillian collected some of his pre-cum with his index finger and smeared it on to your tongue.

You opened your eyes , still trembling as you stared up at him, hating every moment of this degradation. Cillian just smiled down at you before nodding for you to continue.

You reluctantly wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock, wincing as the taste of salt and bitter muskiness filled your mouth. 

Cillian then grabbed a fistful of your hair, using it to guide his cock deep into your mouth. He pushed it in farther than you expected, causing you to gag.

"You're going to have to relax and take it all in," he said, his tone cruel and condescending. "Otherwise we're never going to get anywhere."

You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to vomit as you felt his cock hit the back of your throat.

"Sshh , deep breaths," Cillian cooed softly, tugging on your hair as he pulled his hips back and thrust forward again.

You kept your breathing steady and shallow, trying to prevent yourself from gagging on his length. Tears streamed down your cheeks as Cillian's rhythm grew quicker. He groaned with pleasure, his grip on your hair tightening.

Suddenly he pulled out of you, and the sudden emptiness caused relief to flood through you.

"I want you on all fours now, baby," Cillian growled, his voice husky with lust. "That way, I can see how your virgin hole stretches around my cock when I stick it in there."

You swallowed hard, feeling scared but still you complied. You reluctantly positioned yourself on all fours, your heart pounding in your chest as Cillian reached for the condom packet and lubrication.

Cillian tore open the condom packet with his teeth, rolling it down his hard shaft before squeezing out a generous amount of lubrication onto his fingers. He traced them teasingly over your dry folds, causing you to flinch at the unfamiliar touch.

"Please, just get it over with," you whimpered, your voice trembling as you braced yourself for the excruciating pain of losing your virginity.

Cillian chuckled at your eagerness, but you could hear the sarcasm behind it. "So eager to give up that sweet little cherry of yours, huh?" he asked as he positioned himself behind you, the head of his cock brushed up against your entrance.

"This might hurt a little, but I want you to relax and let me in," he said as he began to push himself inside of you.

You couldn't help but let out a loud gasp as the burning sensation of pain spread throughout your entire body. You couldn't believe that you were actually doing this, allowing yourself to be used like this, for nothing but your career.

"Just breathe," Cillian whispered in your ear as he continued to push deeper inside of you.

You felt him bottom out inside of you, and the feeling of fullness was almost too much to bear.

But before you could say anything, he began to thrust in and out of your tight hole, the friction causing a burning sensation to radiate throughout your body.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Cillian groaned, his hips snapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. You couldn't help but let out a loud gasp every time he entered you, feeling every inch of him as he stretched you open.

Sweat dripped down Cillian's forehead, his breath coming out in harsh pants as he continued to pound into you.

"And you are going to have that cock of mine inside you every day now," Cillian grunted, his voice hoarse as he continued to pump in and out of you.  His words made you feel dirty and cheap, but there was nothing you could do to stop him. You were trapped in this situation, trapped in this twisted arrangement between a successful actor and a desperate young actress trying to make it in Hollywood.

Cillian reached between your legs, his fingers finding your clit as he began to circle and rub, causing you to moan involuntarily. The mix of pain and pleasure was overwhelming, making it hard for you to catch your breath.

You came, fast, and then you were in a state of shock, unable to fully comprehend what was happening to you. The man behind you, Cillian, continued to thrust into you with no mercy, his balls slapping against your clit with each pump. His fingers were still manipulating your delicate button, and the combined sensations were building up deep within your core.

Cillian grunted, his pace increasing. You could feel his cock swell inside of you as he approached his own climax.

He then groaned loudly, his fingers digging into your hips as he slammed into you with a final thrust. You could feel him pulsating inside of you, the condom filling with his hot seed.

Soon after that, Cillian withdrew from you, and your body ached with the emptiness. He tossed the used condom to the side before collapsing onto the bed next to you.

"You impressed me tonight," Cillian said breathlessly as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

His body was slick with sweat, and his cock was still semi-hard against your thigh.

"I had to," you muttered, pulling away from his embrace. You couldn't bear the thought of being close to him after what just transpired between you.

Cillian chuckled softly, his breath hot against your neck. "I know, and I'm grateful," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss on the curve of your shoulder.

"I want you to go on the pill," he said, his voice firm. "I can't be bothered with condoms all the time, and I want to feel you bare. Can you do that for me?"

His request caught you off guard, but you didn't protest. You were already in too deep, and a part of you wanted to give him what he wanted.

"Okay," you murmured softly.

Cillian smiled at your response, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare thigh.

"Good girl," he whispered approvingly, before pulling you close for another bruising kiss before leaving you to clean yourself up and head back home.

Tags:

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@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

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[year2000electronics]

Your fiddleford monster au design makes me have so many questions in a good way. Gnawing on the bars on my enclosure kind of way. Does the curse seemingly not affect him in his one year stay helping Ford, and so he does that all himself? Does The Curse, as vague as it is, count that; and drive people to modify themselves and draw away from humanity? Like its not just this magical effect that happens but an active thing in the back of your mind to turn away from what you were born as and embrace something else? Ogh. I'm suddenly a lot more invested in this au

VERY INTERESTING QUESTIONS TO BE CERTAIN so fiddleford is a bit of a unique case where his "monster" theming is tied directly to his decline yes!

full answer under the cut it got long

in my mind, monster falls' curse is tied directly to gravity falls' natural law of weirdness magnetism/"the barrier" keeping bill in. once youve stayed there long enough for the curse to even BEGIN, it becomes harder to leave the town. you just feel drawn to it, and a dull ache in your soul if you leave. so obviously, when ford gets turned into a mothman, he does fully accept that because hes always felt more cryptid than man. but when the time comes for him to ask fiddleford for help, he lays out that "hey, youd be doing me a BIG favour if you came to help with the portal, but this town curses you if you stay for too long so itll only be a few weeks, i promise"

fidds agrees, because hey, whats a few weeks with an old friend? besides, he'll have his wife and son as an anchor to go back to. but the more he thinks about it, the more he likes staying with ford, the more he's reminded of those old times, and the more the curse starts influencing those kinds of thoughts to get louder and louder (but its not ALL the curse you know. still some autonomy in the situation) and so he keeps postponing his return date, almost "tempting fate" about the curse, because he doesn't really feel any different! his friend sprouted wings and antennae! he'd know by now, so he won't check! and ford shrugs and is like "well, alright, it's your choice, we can surely get a little closer to the point of no return"

and yknow, fiddleford denying that the curse could possibly be affecting him is almost like him in canon struggling to reconcile with his two "lives"- his home life and his life with ford. he wants to have his cake and eat it too, because he's just too timid to ever say no.

anyways, one day he wakes up and realizing he's heard the sound of technology near him for a while, and looks around, and realizes it's following him from room to room-

the beeping IS him. it's definitely been a year, he's already been cursed. it's just that he's a robot that looks near-human, just near-human enough that he could turn a blind eye to it and pretend like it never happened and that everything was fine. which i think kinda suits how ford loves the supernatural to a very personal degree, meanwhile fidds got roped into the town by pure happenstance

but. yknow, being a robot that looks human means youre still a robot. and it's a lot harder to erase things from a robot's "brain" without causing some major problems. haven't you ever been programming something or filling out an html code, and then you accidentally delete one thing you thought was inconsequential and all of a sudden youre staring at just a wall of code that's busted because whatever you removed, you DEFINITELY SHOULD NOT HAVE removed?

parts of fiddleford just go kaput and start breaking because he's purposely taking out large chunks of code from his own brain that end up being collateral from the memory gun. because, yknow, the memory gun is imprecise! it was designed for human brains! cos thats what fidds was for years! so it's like if you tried to repair a computer by ripping out the motherboard with pliers

thats my take on it anyways. Ya

[hexedwinchester]

Early seasons of SPN are superior

so I'm re-watching Supernatural (I'm always re-watching SPN, don't mind me) and I realised why the early seasons are so freakin good whereas the laters ones are a complete mess...

Horror was the core theme of Supernatural (yes, I'm not discarding the brothers' drama, I'll get to it in a minute). These beautiful scare tactics that they employed were amazing: the crib mobile toy rotating, shadows moving out of the corner of the eyes, toys going off, subtle bloody Mary reflections in the mirror, creepy skulls dug from the ground, the ghosts flickering. Hell yea they nailed 'Scary just got sexy' with these.

Don't get me started on the background music. Whimsical music crescendo, building up the anticipation. The rock music blaring through the Impala. What happened to the cool ass music in the later seasons? They just played this weird, sad tune like someone's blowing raspberries to show grief and that's it!

Monster of the week theme and the lores/legends in early seasons were much, much better than S12's Foundry or the later season episode with bizarre tentacle porn thingy (you know which one I'm talking about). It just didn't feel the same. The stories were poorly written and even more poorly executed.

Early seasons used to be purely about Sam and Dean (as it should have been throughout) Them against the world, heaven and hell. No dumbass angel lurking in the background like a pathetic third wheel. No king of hell bitching about his sad childhood for two whole seasons. No Soccer mom half assing their way into hunting.

Foreshadowing was done so beautifully! Everytime I re-watch the early seasons I find a few bits that connects to something that happened initially in say S1-2. The parallels are done beautifully and writing is good, and I mean 'I wanna use this quote as a wallpaper' good.

The struggle for the boys was real. They had to do their own research, save their own asses, stitch their wounds, pop their dislocated shoulders back in the place. Later seasons? Bunker has answer to everything, angel healing wounds with a flash of light, Lucifer bringing Sam back from the dead without asking for anything (and no, taking him to Jack is not a good enough bargain), Jack healing wounds or whatever. Where is the damn struggle?! Where is the hero's journey?!

I miss the beautiful, colourful motel rooms that had its own personality. I HATE the bunker (yes I know a lot of people love it because Dean has a good shower, they have a home etc, etc) but no! Bunker is lame and boring and monotonous. There isn't a single thing I like about it. Gimme back my motel rooms with the sunburst mirror!

Story arc or lack thereof from S12 onwards. The main plot just got duller and duller from S12 onward and it felt like the writers got lazy and stopped putting efforts. There was no build up and the plot felt forced. The main arcs didn't feel exciting enough. BMoL and Kelly's pregnancy: the who and why? Jack: predictable. Other Micheal and Micheal Dean: meh, next! God as the big bad: interesting but I don't think they have it in them to execute this correctly.

Irrelevant/Unnecessary characters and their mini plots. S1-5 focuses purely on the brothers and that's what I'm here. I don't care how and why an idiot angel opened purgatory. It sounded more like a dull spin off plot than main story arc. I don't care about prophets and their lives (yeah Kevin is in Advance Placement, what am I to do with that?). I don't care about the different angel garrisons at war (again a plot for a lame spin off). I don't care about Crowley, his son or his relationship with Rowena. Tell me how this affects the boys. If it doesn't, please let's move on. Whatever was going on with Cole Trenton was pointless. I don't care about Mary and her hunting escapades with BMoL. I don't care about Kelly's pregnancy. The multi-universe and all characters they vomited back in the show with this. Not needed! Let Charlie, Gabriel and Bobby's memory rest in peace. Nick's killer storyline and wayward sisters. Enough said. Empty and the deal with Cas and Meg 2.0? Boring! Billy playing the bad cop, the whole death's library? Poorly executed and it turned into a bowl of cold spaghetti. In the end, the focus moved from the boys to useless characters and mini plots. Fuck that! Supernatural is about Sam and Dean and that's about it.

The direction. Later seasons lack the beauty of scenic shots of the landscape, close on up the boys' faces, the lights hitting their faces to show their beauty. Camera angles and slow panning shots. I miss the beauty that were the early seasons.

[ifeellikeanopenwound]

out late

rafe!cameron x gn!reader

summary: rafe comes home late.

wc: about 880

a/n: not proofread, sorry for mistakes! 😭

✮

your leg bounces rapidly against a the carpeted floor anxiously as you watch the time on your phone

12:49 am.

six hours since rafe had left. he didn’t say where he was going but he said it’d be quick. you had an uneasy feeling since the beginning, rafe’s demeanor at the time seemed off.

now you’re waiting up on him and already you’ve messaged him too many times to count. each time without a response. so many thoughts are racing through your mind. thousands of possibilities of what could have happened come to mind. did he get into an accident? is he cheating? is he in trouble?

the pit in your stomach is only slightly eased when you hear the rusting of the door knob. immediately, your head snaps to the door to see rafe stumbling through.

you don’t know if you’re more relieved or angry that rafe is back after he left you without knowing where he was for hours.

he says nothing when he enters your shared house, darting towards the bedroom. you storm after him, not wanting to let this slide.

“rafe.” “where were you.”

it sounds more like a statement than a question. your voice is firm and direct and rafe can tell there’s no avoiding this.

“out.” he mumbles

“no, that’s not good enough rafe.” “where the hell were you for hours that you couldn’t tell me about?”

“i’m a grown man. i can do whatever the fuck i want, and i sure as hell don’t need to report back to you.” rafes says in a bored tone as he flops himself onto your bed.

you try so hard to stop from fuming but you couldn’t believe the audacity rafe has!

“why won’t you tell me? were you with someone?”

“jesus- fuck, no, i just- i can’t tell you.” rafe says sighing while dodging your gaze.

“yeah cause that’s not suspicious as all rafe” you scoff out.

“can you stop being insecure for five fucking seconds y/n! do you not trust me?”

insecure? is he serious? no, he’s not starting this toxic shit right now. not when you’ve done nothing wrong.

you move closer to rafe, raising your voice slightly as you speak, “are you shitting me rafe! do not put this on me, you’re the one who left with no explanation to where you were going, and left me up all night waiting!”

“why are you making it such a big deal? am i not allowed to go out?”

god he is infuriating.

“that’s not the point rafe! i’m your girlfriend, you should tell me these things.”

“actually, i don’t have to tell you shit.” he bites out

“tell me where you were or i’ll leave rafe.”

“i guess you should leave then.”

you scoff, and nod your head slowly. he wants you to leave? you’ll leave then. turning on one heel, you make your way to the closet in your bedroom and grab one of your many travel bags. you walk open to the dresser and yank the drawers open. you start mindlessly shoving clothes into the bag.

rafes eyes widen slightly, like he didn’t expect you to actually do anything. he gets up from the bed and rushes to you.

“baby, please i’m sorry. don’t leave me y/n.” rafe is pleading, his hands trying to grab at your hands.

your hands pause what they were currently shoving into your bag as you look up at rafe. “where were you!”

he hesitates for a second, looking into your eyes then looking down. “barry’s..” it’s so quiet you almost don’t hear it. and know that you think of it, rafes pupils did seem large.

before you have a chance to ask any questions or say anything, rafe continues.

“i- i went there because my dads been on my ass about some shit. i was just gonna smoke some weed but i don’t know, there w- was coke- and i just wasn’t thinking. i know me being a month clean meant so much to you so i stayed for so long hoping you’d be asleep and i could just pretend it didn’t happen.” rafe finished explaining, his eyes slightly wet and locked on yours.

“im sorry i didn’t tell you baby.”

suddenly you felt most of your anger for rafe disappear. the sincerity in his voice was so pure and you feel slightly guilty for getting so angry at him. you look him in the eyes before speaking,

“rafe you know i would’ve helped you, you can always tell me these things, why would you think you can’t?”

“i didn’t want you to be disappointed in me y/n”

you immediately push your lips to rafe and wrap your arms so tightly around his neck.

“im not your dad rafe, i would never be disappointed in you for relapsing. please never think that. i just want to know that you’re okay and that you trust me.” “i don’t feel that when you hide things and sneak around from me”

“i know baby, im so sorry, i wont do it again.” rafe mumbles into your neck, holding you so tight you feel like it might be getting harder to breath.

you both pull back from each other, though hesitant to.

“i love you y/n”

“i love you too rafe.”

[allora1233]

ℍ𝕦𝕘𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℍ𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

genre: comfort - drabble

pairing: Viktor x Reader

wc: >1k

a/n: Fun fact about this fic: this is based on something my ex said to me, and I've never been the same since. Also, the pleasant smell of old books is called bibliosmia.

The door creaks as you poke your head into the laboratory, sighing in relief as you see only Viktor standing in the room with a book in hand. You walk in and shut the door behind you before making a beeline for the lean man. He turns around and glances up, eyebrows raised as he was not expecting you to be the one that walked through the door. "Y/N, what brings you he-"

Before he can finish his sentence, you're standing in front of him with your face buried in his chest. Viktor looks down at you, his brows furrowed in confusion and worry. Slowly setting down his book and steadying himself against you to put his cane to the side, he wraps his arms around you. "What's wrong, my love?" You remain silent for a moment, simply wanting to take in Viktor's presence and forget about your day. Taking a deep breath in, your senses are flooded with his scent. It's always a pleasant mixture of coffee and old books, like a library with its own café. And not a Starbucks or some other big brand. An authentic café you can only find at this library.

Your arms float up and slowly wrap themselves around his waist. "Hey." Your voice comes out softer than you expected it to. "Hey. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not right now. I just want a hug." Viktor nods and holds you closer, his hand rubbing circles on your lower back. You close your eyes, humming at the feeling and melt into him. You adjusted yourself so your head was resting comfortably against his shoulder. A comfortable silence forms in the air as the minutes go by, only the sound of soft breathing from both of you is heard. Neither of you two move, perfectly content being in each other's arms.

Inhaling deeply once more, you slowly pull away from Viktor. But not all the way. You still wanted to feel him close. Your hands move up around his neck as his hands slide back and rest on your waist. When you look up at him, you're met with his gaze already staring down at you. "You know, you are the perfect hugging height."

You blink, not expecting that sentence to be what finally broke the silence. "Really?" He nods. "Mhmm. Your head rests nicely against my shoulder and my arms are long enough to hold you right. I am able to keep my balance with you without my cane. And you are just tall enough for me to do this." Viktor lowers his head just enough to give you a gentle peck on the forehead. You hum. "Yeah, but still too short to properly do this." You push yourself up to your tippy toes and pull him into a kiss that he glady returns. He leans back and smiles at you, an action you happily mirror. "Thank you Vik. I really don't know what I would do without you."

"And the same goes to you. You are my muse, you know?" Your gaze softens as your heart swells with love. How did you get so lucky? "I know." After another moment of pure sugar fluff, you help Viktor with whatever it was he was working on before you came in. You already forgot why you were so upset to begin with.

[stardew-shitposterino]

Stardew Valley Bachelors and whether I think they’d be dom, sub or switch

Hehe ok idk this just came to mind. This refers to whether they like to be in charge, be on the receiving end or enjoy both. I’m not too familiar with bdsm kink stuff so this is mostly very vanilla 🤷🏼‍♀️ I’m not the kind of person to provide you with that soz

Content warning: filth lmfao MINORS DNI

Sam:

-switch, loves to sub though

-bro is weak in his knees when you take charge

-loves when you whisper sweet nothings paired with dirty filth into his ear

-call him a good boy please

-he doesn’t like being treated like a slut, so no insults please, it doesn’t do anything for him except make him cry. You gotta praise him so he can thrive

-when he tops, he will feel so powerful and grin like a fool the entire time. He’s almost too cute to be taken seriously

-Loves kissing every inch of your body and leaves hickeys if you let him

Sebastian:

-sub, big fat sub

-he tries taking the lead every once in a while, but he isn’t feeling that role

-likes receiving oral a lot, he’d be fine only ever doing that tbh (will finger you in return or suck you off)

-he whimpers into your ear when you tell him to

-btw, he likes when you tell him what he should do

-Thinks it’s sexy when you treat him like Bowser treats Luigi in the Mario movie (don’t ask me why I chose that as an example)…so TEASE HIM

-if you can, wear some sexy e-girl ensemble for him. It will have him come before you even touch him

Harvey:

-switch, but I have a feeling he is especially hard for you when you take charge

-loves being teased

-give him praises and sweet romantic gestures

-loves when you’re a gentle dom, will be a gentle dom when he takes charge

-oddly enough, he likes when you call him daddy. He didn’t initially like it, but when you started saying it, he lost his cool and melted in your hands

-hold his hand when you make love (yes that’s right, this man doesn’t fuck, he’s too pure for that)

Elliott:

-dom or switch…switch who likes to take charge? Yeah sounds right

-he is a man of great romantic gestures, so expect him to want to pamper you in bed as well

-enjoys seeing and hearing that what he does makes you feel good

-coos sweet nothings in your ear like a pro

-“that’s right, does this make you feel good, my love? You feel so good around me. Come for me, darling, will you?”

- when you take charge, he will enjoy whatever you decide to do. He finds the gesture of you wanting to reciprocate arousing enough

-…treat him like a princess though…you don’t have this from me but he’d never admit to liking that lol

Shane:

-switch that loves to be dom, but when you are the dom for once …MAMA 😩

-said with the wise words of Kim Petras “treat me (him) like a slut”

-bro loves being a strong lead, aka he’s VERY passionate and will show you how much he wants you

-he eats you out like 👏🏻 a 👏🏻 champ 👏🏻 (he loves giving oral so much, but especially eating 🐱)

-when you take charge, he wants you to ride him so badly please do it! It will make him into putty underneath you

-my man growls, groans, moans. He is VERY vocal and his deep voice makes it extremely sexy

-will whisper utter filth into your ear and will enjoy it even more when you do the same for him

Alex:

-DOM💀

-will sub every once in a while if mandatory

-loves seeing you all happy and mischievous when you give him pleasure, buuuut he prefers being in charge

-He will treat you like a prince/ess, does everything in the books to make you have a great time

-he worships your body. No matter what you have going on, he will make sure you know that he loves every bit of it

-he’s not the poet type, so don’t expect him to be very creative when it comes to vocal stuff

-will try out the wildest positions with you though because he loves showing off how strong and flexible he is. But at the end of the day, he loves nothing more than the tried and true missionary position 🤷🏼‍♀️ he wants to see you underneath him and hold your hand