#And that has done Considerable Wonders

[tswwwit]

Does your Familiar AU also have Bill destroying his original dimension/parents? Or does he not have parents and just spawned in hell and got kicked out for being annoying? Lol

Familiar!BIll has the same backstory! With the destroyed dimension, dead parents and all.

[lungfuls]

Maybe I'm projecting and being hopeful but I mentioned to M that I don't even get to shit by myself in peace lmao and I feel like something clicked for him. Bc I was like hey, at least you get private bathroom breaks at work (noncombative). And since then he's been a lot more acquiescent when I ask if I can nap and stuff

[awek-s]

I hope he dies violently and painfully

[novarex]

I want to mention a couple of things I've been pondering about Astarion. Now, I haven't played his origin so maybe they address this... but can we take a moment to acknowledge the EXTRA terror Astarion would have experienced beyond what Tav and the companions experienced?

Abducted, infected with a tadpole, broke free, ship crashing through Avernus and everywhere, landing who know where, everything on fire, and you should definitely be dead. Everyone experienced that.

But for Astarion, the stakes are higher. He is a VAMPIRE. This happens mid day. For all he knew, at the moment he was cast out into the sunlight, he was surely about to die. Can you imagine the terror of 200 years of being afraid of sunlight just to be thrown violently into it with no explanation that you will be fine? Surely he had been singed at some point by the sun in 200 years. Then to realize he was not dying but have no idea why... or if it would last?

Furthermore, he is still terrified of Cazador and has no idea that his link to him is interrupted. What he DOES know is that Cazador is a sadistic asshole who tortures willy nilly for any tiny mistake. Astarion later let's us know that one time in his first 10 or so years with Cazador, he tried to run away. Cazador locked him in a tomb... by himself... without any kind of food... for a YEAR. The way Astarion describes it, that would probably have been one of the most horrible things that has ever happened to him. He describes wanting to die.

So, at the point that Tav meets him, I am guessing that the year of confinement he experienced is top of mind. I think in his mind that it is a certainty if he ever returned to Cazador, something similar or worse awaits him. Cazador doesn't strike me as the type to distinguish between running away and being wisked away.

Anyway. This is what I'm thinking about instead if working.

[sherwoodflorists]

It really is such a great time to be a DC fan rn like there's so many books and upcoming runs that I'm looking forward to that it's completely reinvigorated me lol

[hugsandchaos]

Okay, so what if Danny and Ellie crashed on Themyscira? When Danny wakes up from passing out, instead of just crying, he turns to the person in the room and demands to know what they did to his sister. He doesn’t trust them one bit when they say she’s okay until she’s brought into the room, safe and sound. Ellie also wanted her big brother because he passed out and practically pounced him when she saw him awake.

Most of the time, Danny stays as alert as he can and keeps glaring at everyone, with Ellie being an exception. He acts very sweet and considerate towards her, and is very patient with her. They still act like siblings sometimes, though. Ellie likes to annoy Danny into chasing her, and it works almost every time. Ellie has told the women there stories about Danny taking care of her. The Amazons think it’s admirable that even though Danny’s a child himself, he acts so much like a guardian, but are saddened by the fact that he has to.

Later on, when he’s starting to trust them, Wonder Woman comes back to visit and investigate. Danny’s very unhappy. In his mind, she works for the Justice League and the Justice League works with the government. You know who works for the government she works with? The G.I.W., and to him, that automatically means that the Justice League knows about them and doesn’t have a problem with it. If they did, they would’ve done something by now.

He avoids her and keeps Ellie by his side or behind him. She trusts his judgment, so she doesn’t argue much when he says to not let Wonder Woman touch her, which is a shame because she’s one of Ellie’s favorites. When Wonder Woman is near Ellie, Danny watches her like a hawk and steps in to pull Ellie away if he thinks things are getting bad.

Wonder Woman definitely notices his behavior. The constant glaring, putting himself between her and his sister, the obvious distrust, his attempts to herd Ellie away from her, and the anxious hand twitching whenever she gets close to Ellie. She knows not everyone likes her, but that’s to be expected when you’re a hero. Someone’s bound to disagree. Still, she can’t help but wonder why he acts as if her touching him or Ellie would be the end of them. When she asks him about it, Danny glares at her and asks why he would trust her.

When she learns about the G.I.W., she’s understandably shocked. The government never told the League about any of it. Danny doesn’t buy it at all and she feels even worse. How long has this been going on that a child not only feels the need to fear and avoid the League, but also have so much distrust that he thinks her genuine reaction to this information is a trick to lure him and his sister into a trap?

Wonder Woman: What reason would you have to fear me?

Danny: Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you work for the Justice League? Maybe because the Justice League is dangerous?

Wonder Woman: What makes you think we’re dangerous? We only wish to bring Justice to the world.

Danny: “Justice”? Is that what you call letting the Guys In White do as they please? Is that what you call having laws and acts deeming any ectoplasmic entity as lower than animals? If you had anything against it, you would’ve done something by now. Maybe even a long time ago. But nothing’s changed.

[abrahamvanhelsings]

#i can and will die on the hill that ned little - the actual lt. little of the show - is as far removed from the sad wet doormat of a man#that fanon likes to portray him as; as humanly possible#the closest correlation between fanon!ned and actual canon!ned is his prolonged misery and level of worry-induced distress#he's more than competent - we see it time and again throughout the first half of the show#but the biggest indication of this is crozier himself handing little his pistol when he goes into self-imposed rehab#HE WOULDN'T DO THAT IF HE DIDN'T THINK EDWARD WAS CAPABLE OF HANDLING THE SITUATION.#crozier's not a man to mince words or spare feelings - if he thought little unequal to the task he would've handed his pistol to fitzjames#instead; but no. he chooses edward precisely bc he knows edward is loyal and steadfast and capable of doing what needs to be done

#edward is the one who falters in that scene; not bc he's too overwhelmed to cope but because he knows exactly what is at stake if#anything goes wrong during crozier's convalescence; the lives of a hundred+ men turning on a dime should crozier not survive his withdrawal#and he's not wrong to feel daunted by the task! it's an immense amount of responsibility -#one crozier himself bowed and buckled under the second leadership of the expedition was thrust upon him! it's a terrifying situation;#but edward still steps up and in the wake of francis's seclusion; for once; things actually go somewhat smoothly!#the men are faring better without the black cloud of crozier's alcoholism and negativity hanging over them like a shroud;#he's gotten fitzjames off his back for the most part; other than for carnivale. and even here we see edward's diligence and commitment#to his position as first lieutenant of the expedition bc he's the one questioning using vital supplies for a party! he's the one#who agrees that the men need the distraction; but worries if they can afford to foot the bill later;#when things will be more difficult! that is the kind of mindset francis himself displays at the beginning#of the show when he's questioning sir john's decision to press forward despite every sign imaginable telling them not to!#EDWARD WORRIES FOR THE MEN THE SAME WAY CROZIER DOES

#what trips him up; what ends up driving a wedge between him and crozier; what causes little to fuck up the armory situation; is this:#crozier himself. bc francis was a mean drunk. and while in his cups he treated little as no better than a ship's boy; running menial errand#and very literally risking life and limb to indulge the vices of a man who treats him with open contempt (and let's be clear; that man isn'#the captain edward has come to know and respect since they set out from greenhithe - no; that is a stranger wearing his captain's face;#making choices that leave edward feeling frustrated and helpless and enraged)#what crozier's belittling of little's station and rank does during this time is make him deeply insecure of his own purpose and competence;via @boogiewoogieweeb

listen i don't think edward little was actually a bad first lieutenant. when we see him in the first episode he's calm and confident. he does not say much but he's amiable enough. crozier likes him, and i don't think crozier would like anyone he doesn't think capable in some way. generally he's dependable and knows what he's doing. however unfortunately for edward he has these qualities because he has a major case of eldest daughter syndrome, which means he both wants to please his mum (crozier) and has an overdeveloped sense of responsibility for his younger siblings (crew), so when they get stuck in the ice and crozier starts going (more) alcoholic, he enables his mum bc he doesn't want to disappoint her even if he doesn't agree with her, and he has to pick up the tasks and care for his siblings she's not doing, but he can't let his siblings know about their mum's situation because they'll get worried and restless. and like a true eldest daughter he has to bear the brunt of mummy's anger for being a disappointment but he also doesn't want to seek refuge with the man she divorced (fitzjames) because that feels like a betrayal. also while this is going on there is a giant bear who hunts his siblings for sport so they're dying left and right and also a changeling master manipulator who's making his siblings mad at their mum and who wants to fuck said mum before eating her like some sort of praying mantis. anyway i think i would start being miserable and anxious too.

[urlovebot]

cw: perv sunghoon, voyeurism (???), sunghoon watches you shower. cumming untouched (technically).

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

sunghoon lounges on the couch, waiting for you to get ready so he can walk you to class today. he hears the shower turn on and silently cheers in his brain. this might be his second favorite time of the day.

he jumps off the couch and takes a stroll to the bathroom. you never lock the door, silly girl. he quietly turns the knob and cracks the door open just enough to see your pretty body through the frosted glass.

you're so fucking pretty. just thinking about you makes him hard, so for him to be able to see you? it makes him want to cream his pants right then and there but he has some sort of self control. he knows your routine by now, having peeked at you every day for the past month or so.

the first time was an accident. he opened the door without knocking and accidentally walked in. he apologized and you said it was fine and you both moved on but sunghoon... sunghoon needed to see it again. so, as anyone would, he made it a habit. he'd open the door slowly and see if you had any reaction. once he confirms you didn't hear, he'd just watch.

sometimes he'll fist his cock while he watches you. it gets him so hard, makes him so fucking dizzy at the thought of you catching him. he wants you to. he wants you to step out of the shower and catch him fucking his hand while he stares at you. sometimes he'd even blow his load on your clothes in hopes you'll ask him about it, but you never do.

usually you start with your hair routine. while it conditions, you start washing your body. you run your washcloth down your arms, on your neck, make your way to your tits- this part sunghoon zeroes in on. god he'd kill to suck on them. he imagines them bouncing as he fucks into you or maybe while you ride him. then you make your way down your stomach, stick the washcloth between your legs, then you move down your legs and-

you've discarded your washcloth? you've set it to the side. what's different about this shower? its not wash day for you, you wouldve prepped for that before your shower. you shaved yesterday and wouldve done so before starting to wash so what-

sunghoons jaw drops and his brain short circuits as he watches you reach your hand between your legs instead. his knees buckle as he sees your hand move in small, slow circles. you've never done this in the shower before. in fact, he's yet to see or hear you touch yourself but here you are- in the shower, soaken wet, trying to get yourself off in front of him.

he wills himself not to get hard. he can't. he cannot be distracted. fuck- where is his phone? he scurries into the livingroom to grab the device and quickly gets back to the bathroom. his hand shakes as he presses record. he makes sure not to watch it through the camera, he needs to see this with his own eyes first.

you've moved from slow circles to quick ones. he's a little surprised at this. surely you would take your time? perhaps you were being quick about it because you'd be walking with him to class. you've always been so considerate.

his tongue pokes out of his lip when your hand changes positions. he knows youve put a finger inside of you he just knows it. he can't make out any facial expressions but he sees your body tense a little bit- must be the stretch.

your other hand moves up your body and stops at your chest. your hand squeezes your tits together and then focuses on one, pulling your nipple and sunghoon swears he hears a moan out of you. the hand in your cunt moves faster and the hand on your tits comes to the glass door of the shower to hold yourself up and sunghoon can barely fucking breath.

you'd clearly done this before as your hands move with familiarity and ease- why did you do it in the shower this time?

sunghoon hears another, much louder moan from you and his head spins. he wonders if he wouldve been able to hear it from outside of the door or if the shower wouldve drowned it out. whatever the outcome, he thanks god that he's watching you right now.

he feels silly for being so starstruck but never in a million years did he think he would hit the jackpot like this. he sees your chest rise and fall quicker. oh god, you're about to cum. he's about to watch you fucking cum all over yourself in the shower and his head spins and his eyes unfocus as he realizes hes been subconsciously humping the doorframe this whole time.

and when you let out a soft whine followed by a couple whimpers, sniffles even, sunghoon feels himself shoot his load in his pants. his free hand grabs the doorframe to steady himself as he stumbles. he himself whimpers a little, caught off guard by his own orgasm. he's not even a little embarrassed, just happy he was able to witness this. he stops recording and quietly shuts the door.

he doesn't need to watch you finish your shower anymore. instead, he'll watch the video once more and empty his balls once again before changing his outfit.

if you ask, he'll say he spilled milk on his pants which, metaphorically, is not a lie.

[broodybuck]

Title: Through Your Window

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Rating: E

Tags: 18+ explicit smut, masturbation, horny Bucky Barnes, stalker Bucky Barnes, pining, couch sex, Inspired by You (TV 2018)

Summary: Bucky finds a new muse from his window and it's you. He's captivated from the first moment he sees you but can't imagine he could ever have you.

[ao3 link]

He tries not to stare but he's been trained to observe. To hide in the shadows and watch. He's partially hidden behind the curtain of his window but he should conceal himself fully if he wants to keep his eyes on you.

You're not looking, you're distracted, treading around the apartment while collecting items here and there. You are across the alleyway in the building opposite his. It feels like a cruel gift. You're right in his view, he doesn't even need to strain to see you. He merely needs to walk to his window and watch.

Today, you're cleaning clutter from your living room. To put these items away means that you're bending down, arching at your hips, reaching over your head. It's allowing him to see every curve on you, especially with the sheer blouse and tight jeans you're wearing.

Why would you wear that, Bucky wonders. To entice him... that shirt is so sheer, he can see your bra. It's light pink and lacy. He licks his lips staring at it. His skin burns. He can't move. He's frozen, fixated on you until you walk out of his line of sight away from the windows. He sighs quietly to himself.

This is unfair, he decides. He hasn't looked at a woman since he's gotten free. Now, he found you. Your apartment is perfectly visible from his kitchen window. You, who leaves your blinds open at all hours of the day and walks around with those hips, those breasts.

He's hard. He's avoided getting turned on until now. A loud crash breaks Bucky from his trance. He looks down to realize he broke the coffee mug in his hand, causing half of the cup to smash onto the floor.

Fuck it, he needs to jerk off.

Putting his hand on himself feels like an ocean of relief but a wave of immense shame washes over him too. Because he hasn't retreated to the bedroom, he's pressing himself into the wall of his kitchen to keep the window still in view. So he can still see you as you walk back into the living room.

God, you're beautiful. He wants to touch you. He wants so many things he's not allowed. And yet, he's furiously jerking off to the thought of it all. Watching your every move, pumping himself harder and harder.

He's deplorable. He shouldn't be doing this. But it feels like he can't breathe until he's done. Splattering the wall in his release, breathing raggedly, forehead pressing against the window frame.

At least, you'll never know.

After careful consideration, Bucky decides that fantasies are okay. They are harmless and hence, why he's allowing himself to watch you across the way and touch himself whenever he needs to. Which is a lot, by the way, probably too much. But it's not hurting anyone.

After a week, Bucky has learned many things about you. How you like your coffee, your favorite food. You don't have many friends over, you don't go out often. You work at home from your laptop. Thankfully, at a desk placed in your living room where Bucky has a perfect view of you. He loves your little face of concentration. Sometimes, you bite your lip and as cute as it is, it makes him so hard he has to get off every time you do it.

He's counted the floors and windows and figured out which apartment you live in. He knows it sounds creepy, but he's not planning to break in. He just wanted to learn your name. He learns it when he sneaks into your building and finds your mailbox downstairs. Then, looks you up with a quick Google search. Now he can scream y/n every time he comes.

That's all he wanted, a little more for his fantasies. For his little treat every day. He doesn't have much else except therapy and working at the bodega down the street. So, he's letting himself have this. He's letting himself have you.

Except, he can't just stop at your name. He wants to learn everything about you. He wants his fantasies to feel real. So he goes through your mail. He finds your credit card bill and takes pictures before perfectly sealing the envelopes back up and returning them to your mailbox.

He now knows what stores you shop at, what restaurants you eat at, the bookstore you occasionally frequent. And he begins going to all these places too. On his own, of course. He likes just knowing you were there, wondering what you picked off the menu or which book you chose.

Unfortunately, this is precisely what leads to him accidentally running into you. Literally. He turns around with his coffee to-go cup and bangs into you, spilling his coffee all over one of your too-thin blouses.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," Bucky jumps for napkins.

His impulse is to help clean the spill himself but it's all over your chest, more specifically your breasts. His hands stop mid-motion, reaching the napkins toward you.

You accept the napkins shyly.

"It's okay," you tell him as you start dabbing your wet shirt.

Since the coffee soaked through your shirt, Bucky can see too much of the outline of your breasts. He averts his gaze. When you look back up at him, he eventually meets your eyes again. Now he can see the distinct specks of color in your eyes.

"I feel terrible. Can I get you a new shirt?" Bucky offers.

You pause, your mouth quirking into a smile.

"A new shirt?"

"Please, I'll pay for a new one or something," Bucky urges.

"How about you just buy me a coffee and we'll be even," you suggest.

"Of course."

He thinks he's safe. He survived the coffee incident and left shortly after buying you a drink. He thought it was done. Then he ran into you again.

It really shouldn't come as a surprise since he's frequenting all your favorite places. But this one is all his fault because he went back to your building and you caught him in the mailroom. Luckily, he was empty-handed but you still recognized him.

"Hey, aren't you coffee-spilling-guy?" you smirk.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry again... about that."

"I'm just teasing. I didn't know you lived here."

He shifts uncomfortably.

"I was actually visiting a friend," he lies.

"Oh, and getting their mail?"

He winces, you're too smart for him to trick, and already being this close to you again is doing bad things to him. Now that you're not covered in coffee, there's nothing masking the smell of your perfume. It's floral and too sweet. He wants to lick your neck.

When he doesn't answer, you fill in the silence.

"It's none of my business. I'm y/n by the way, I don't think we exchanged names."

You put out your hand and he looks oddly terrified of your palm but he manages to shake your hand briefly before informing you his name is "Bucky".

"Well, maybe I'll see you around, Bucky."

"Yeah, maybe."

You smile at him and he gives you half of one back. Then he nods, shuffling out of the mailroom and out the front door.

He needs to stop going out, Bucky decides. He can't risk running into you. He's already encountered two close calls — both too close for his liking.

The window is safe, so the window is where he'll stay. He's standing a few feet back watching you work today. He's already been here an hour.

You lean back in your chair and stretch your arms then you head into the kitchen and come back with a cup of water. You walk it over to the window sill and pour some water into a plant sitting on the ledge.

Then, you pause and slowly your eyes lift up. You look right through the window at Bucky watching you.

Bucky can't breathe in a terrible way. It's far too late to duck but he does so anyway.

He's been caught. Now he can never watch you again.

The worst thing happens two days later. Bucky is only outside because of his weekly therapy appointment. He's walking home, avoiding all your favorite spots, but you still manage to run into him.

This time from across the street. You see him first and it takes a second for him to notice you and then stop dead in his tracks, looking afraid to move.

You hurry over to him and he looks so tense, you're nervous to get too close.

"Hey, funny running into you again."

"I live over there," he points defensively.

"I know," you smile. "I saw you."

"I wasn't trying to stare, I..."

"I'm not mad. You were just looking out your window. It's not like that's a crime," you laugh. "You know, if you weren't so attractive, I'd probably be more freaked out."

Bucky visibly gulps. "You think I'm attractive?"

"Yeah," you shrug. "Hoping the feeling is mutual."

His eyes go wide, your face blushes in response.

"Sorry, that was too forward," you apologize.

"The feeling is very mutual," he responds low. It sends a vibration down your spine.

"You know, we keep running into each other. Maybe the universe wants us to have coffee together. I have some up at my place."

"Oh," he hesitates.

"Maybe you could spill some on me," you tease.

He laughs, thankfully, getting the joke. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"I'd love a coffee," he says.

The coffee is a move. That should've been obvious but Bucky didn't realize how weak he'd be the second you made one. Because after you set the coffee cup down in front of him, you just lean over and kiss him.

Bucky's not sure how to describe the feeling of all his fantasies coming true. How many times had he imagined your lips, exactly what they'd feel like, taste like? They're perfect. Far better than he could dream.

He knew this wouldn't be good if he ever got this. Got you. He knew he'd lose all sense of control and he eagerly leans back in, kissing you more forcefully. You moan against his lips and that sends a shudder through him.

"Be honest," you draw back to say. "Were you watching me through the window?"

"Yes," he admits huskily. He waits expecting you to pull away but you lie down on the couch and pull him with you by the collar of his shirt.

"That doesn't scare you?" he asks, hovering over you.

You shake your head, dragging him down to your lips and kissing him again.

Bucky has one mind to tell you how long he's been watching you, fantasizing about you, dying to have you. But he knows that won't sound sane. Besides, you're currently rolling your hips up into his groin which is making his head spin.

He groans and lets his weight crush yours so your bodies fall flush. You immediately start grinding up into him which drives him crazy.

He hasn't done this in a while but his instincts take over and he moves with you, sucking at the skin on your neck while you moan and play with his hair. Your fingers feel like silk, lacing through his brown locks and down his neck. He shivers, kissing you.

Bucky reaches down and slips his hand under your skirt. He gasps when he feels how soaked your underwear is.

"Have you been thinking about me?" he growls, the thought alone makes him feral.

You nod as he pushes the fabric aside to tease you. You arch back, sucking in a sharp breath with a smile.

"I've seen you—" you pant. "Watching me— for weeks."

Bucky's eyes go wide. His hand pauses.

"And once," you continue, eyes locked with his. "I saw your eyes closed and your face — you were coming, I realized."

He swallows pulling his hand back but you grab his wrist, keeping him there.

"You were getting off. I couldn't believe the hot guy watching me was that turned on just from looking at me. You couldn't even control yourself."

Bucky closes his eyes. "I have no restraint with you."

"Good," you grin and reach for the belt of his pants, unbuckling the strap, then pulling the fly open.

When you grab his cock, he groans loud. He's so hard in your hand, you lick your lips hungrily. You tug him forward and he moves in between your legs, taking hold of himself so you let go.

Then he pushes inside of you in one, easy glide. He stops, breathing heavily over you with his eyes closed. You frame his face.

"Wanna see you make that face again," you purr.

"Fuck, y/n," he rasps.

He rocks his hips into you and ramps up to an earnest pace.

"Oh fuck," you whine, grabbing onto him tighter. He buries his face in your neck, turning to speak roughly in your ear.

"When you come, I'm not gonna forget your face. It'll be all I dream about now."

"How're you so sure I'll come," you try to dare but you're already getting way too close with the way he's ramming into you.

He slows his pace and sits back to glare at you. You bite your lip as he hooks your thighs and pulls you closer, forcing himself deeper inside you.

He doesn't say anything just spreads your thighs apart, pressing them down into the cushions, and fucks you harder than before. His one hand finds your clit and he starts making circles with his thumb.

Your eyes roll back. There's no doubt you're gonna come. You moan out, gripping the armrest behind you.

"Bucky, please," you pant.

He presses forward, cradles your body to turn you both on your sides, and holds you against his chest now. Your thighs are hiked up as high as they can go. The new angle makes you cry out with every new thrust and he's somehow gaining more fervor, fucking you even harder until your thighs start trembling.

He doesn't stop until your orgasm crashes over you like hot lava, melting you from the inside and pouring over every inch of you. You scream into his chest while he keeps fucking you through it.

You're gasping, trying to breathe through the rapture while feeling how sensitive you are around his cock still slamming into you.

You're slurring something, but you're not even sure if you're telling him to stop or keep going. Your eyes roll back again, every inch of you won't stop vibrating, and you're not sure how much more you can take.

Then he slams into you hard and stops abruptly, fully buried inside you. The groan he makes sounds almost painful. His eyes are squeezed shut again, you recognize the expression he makes. You flush hot as you watch him come.

You both sit in the sounds of your labored breathing. You're still wrapped around him, he's still inside you.

"It was better up close," you whisper cheekily, carding a few fingers through his hair.

He sucks in a breath and looks at you with so much intensity that your hand freezes in his hair, you're scared to speak.

"I'd watch you make that face every day if you'd let me."

"You just wanna watch?" you grin.

He shakes his head, then pauses to reconsider it, then shakes his head again.

"Whatever you want," he says.

"That could be hot to roleplay it."

"Roleplay... what?"

"Our story," you smirk. "I'll get myself off while you stand against the window, watching me."

He breathes in shakily, already too turned on by the idea.

"You have no idea how bad you are for me," he gravels.

"Bad for you?" you laugh.

"I have no control around you."

"Good," you tell him, brushing his hair back. "I don't want you to."

[akpaley]

Made smooth and slick of seas and strands Tides that turn at your commands A heartbeat held by heavy hands

More Kaijja character writing. Roughly 1200 words on the beginning of her romantic relationship with the flesh god.

---

He does not mind solitude, but when you lack other obligations he does not mind your intrusion either. It is perhaps not usual, but it is natural to be fascinated with a god. You intrude often. You call it an extension of work, and the two of you do work through problems together. He was surprised, once upon a time, when he inflicted experience on you to demonstrate the severity of his edicts and you, not unshaken but still engaged, asked if he felt such detail in the experience of every person he faced. He had not been asked to use his power as a tool of empathy, not after imposing such suffering, not in centuries, but it is commonplace between you now. You wonder to what extent he can feel you enjoy it, even when it is excruciating. And the intellectual exercise is useful. Many times simulation of similar encounters has helped you watch for signs of tension, has made you more perceptive to the way your interlocutors conduct themselves and react to you. It is practical, and there is a quiet selfish pleasure in understanding the way he sees and feels the world.

Mirjat tells you it is unusual for Iokhar's Advocate to be his friend, or even to like the man, and you understand that but you do not relate. He is beautiful when he attempts to be terrifying, he is rational when he cannot intimidate, he is deeply intensely perceptive, and in his own stoic way he is oddly soft. Perhaps kind is a better word. He cares much more deeply than he shows. There is a selfish little thrill in that as well, knowing that you have brought out in him qualities most others never see. Knowing that you surprise him, a man who can feel everything but your thoughts just standing across from you. You accomplish a great deal in your tenure, but it is this that most often produces that quiet sense of pride.

He shows you change. In theory this is to make a point, but the point is unnecessary. You are not asking about something of immediate importance. It is after hours and you are asking about a story, about old scripture, from a primary source. This is not uncommon, and alongside speaking in words he chooses to sate a curiosity he knows you will have. When he has pulled you back together into the right shape you grin up at him. He studies you, near expressionless, and says "This is inappropriate." It is the strangest declaration of love you will ever receive, and you see it for what it is immediately. It should shock you, but somehow it does not. You agree. The evening ends with a veneer of stoic professionalism.

You will talk about it the next day. You will talk about it for the next week. You will see a degree of begrudging openness from him that you will not realize has been kept from you until you see it for the first time. You seek counsel, as is the responsible thing to do, but find that there is very little doubt as to the choice you will make. Mirjat appeals to your career, to the work that you've done, to the work that you might still do, and you find the arguments that have driven you all your life unconvincing.

You split your evenings between discussions with Iokhar and your own private consideration. You know the thrill of new intimacy will cloud your judgment, and he does too, but you both recognize that no matter what decision the two of you make your relationship will change. The idea of a purely professional relationship absent discussions of philosophy, history, art and other work feels galling, having experienced a relationship that is mutually irreplaceable. Later the idea of being irreplaceable to him will raise warmth in your chest and bring a smile to your face, but in that week while you assess it is simply a fact to be weighed. You are problem solving. Your feelings are data, but you do not have time to feel them fully. Only that they tell you what you want. You will resign with two weeks left in the season and half a term unfinished. It will take you most of the remaining two weeks working with your Clericy to choose Devadas as a successor, swear him in as Kalidas, and get him up to speed.

You already spend a great deal of time working during the on season, but for the better part of two weeks private time is practically nonexistent. This is a major adjustment, expected by no one, and by the time Iokhar leaves Kalidas must be prepared to represent him fully in the Council of Advocates. Anything you knew, anything you were working on, must be written down in such detail that it can be picked up where you left off. While you will join the Clericy of Iokhar, thus becoming available as a resource, it will take another month for the Clericy of the Petitioner Saints to determine this is the appropriate course of action and you must prepare for the contingency in which your full abdication from governance is determined necessary. It is not until the final night that you and your god finally have proper time together again. You sit quietly for much of it. He holds you and seems unpracticed, which to be fair you are as well. A decade is not a short time. A century and a half is longer. Yet, for all that, the mere ten months in front of you suddenly seems very long indeed.

"I would hear your voice when I am gone," he tells you, and it is less vulnerability than simple truth.

"I'd love to hear yours too," you say with irony, "but I suppose one of us will have to wait."

"I will not shirk my duties," he says, "But--"

"I would not ask you to." He pauses and then drops the apology. "Come back next season with stories for me." You smile as if this is a usual farewell, a friendship set aside to be picked up where it left off upon his return.

Very calmly, he takes your hand in his and matches his gaze to yours. For the first time you can feel the sensation of his own body mapped to yours, and you feel his quiet simmering hunger for you, individual fibers of his being humming beneath his skin for touch that a human lover could never even pretend. You feel it in the strands of your own muscles, suddenly yearning to rise up from beneath your skin and embrace the man in front of you. It is nearly overwhelming. Your breath catches and you do not dare break his gaze for fear it might stop. His voice is a low rumble in his chest. "I will." 

It is a greater promise than you asked for. It will stick with you during the long months of his absence, haunting your prayers and quiet moments and intruding on your activities unprompted.  

Upon his return, he will admit that this was the point.

[arlertwhore]

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

warning(s): nsfw/18+, fighting (verbal/physical), toxic relationship stuff, fingering, thigh riding, pussy eating, squirting,

synopsis: the bitchy, possessive, and temperamental gf who paige thinks she can handle proves her right!

word count: 2.4k

Author Note: got my first lil hate comment the other day 😜 i feel like an actual writer now lmao! here goes draft #6, comin’ in lit 🔥

Fuck knows what you're complaining about this time. She's straight from practice — from a rigorous, exhausting, and intense practice, frustrated with her own performance, only to find you waiting at the door, already irritated about something entirely. Perhaps it was how she didn’t answer you at all today—or how you saw her looking too close for comfort to another 'fan' as she claimed, though you never trusted it—or maybe she even fucking sighed at you the wrong way upon entering through the door because the littlest of things ticked you off—you—her bitchy, demanding, and infuriatingly sexy girlfriend, whom Paige has to constantly remind herself she willingly got involved with, knowing full well she was signing up for the being the figurative property of the brattiest, bossiest, most high-maintenance girl on campus.

"Are you even listening to me?!" you fume as Paige storms past you, stripping a trail of her clothes all the way to the bathroom, letting her hair fall loose from its low bun as she saunters away from your chaos, massaging her temples.

"Seriously, Y/N, now's not the time, I gotta-" - "I don't give a fuck!" you explode, chasing after her and grabbing her arm to spin her back around. "I don't care about your shitty day or your shitty excuses. Why the fuck didn't you text me back, hm?" Paige sighs, avoiding your eyes with an air of exasperation, her gaze shifting to the ceiling in an attempt to not roll them. At her silence, you feel your anger boil over, frustration evident in the clenched fist at your sides and the tense set of your jaw. "You're the fucking worst, Paige!" you snap, "You think just because I'm understanding that means you can take pictures with all these other bitches, post all on your Instagram, but then NOT text me back!"

Paige knew she was the man, the kind of person who could handle any challenge, which is why she thought dating someone like you—a real piece of work—would be a good match. She believed you could keep her on her toes, pushing her to become mentally stronger, more confident, and dominant—qualities she hoped would shine on the court, but on days like this, when you demanded drama and chaos, she wondered if she was truly cut out for it. Her honest, no-bullshitting, no-pretense attitude of: My girlfriend is so sexy opinion? Nah. And she promptly proved that stance when she spat out, “Alright, I’m sorry, baby… Is that what you want me to say? That I’m sorry I have things to do and you act like a bitch about it?” her voice venomous and defensive, stunning you. “Man, get the fuck out of my way right now. I don’t feel like fighting with you, for real,” she demanded, trying to brush past you. You couldn’t believe she actually spoke to you like that—she was usually so considerate of your feelings. In a fit of rage, you squared up to her and pushed her back by her shoulders with a strength you didn’t know you had over the 6ft wall of strength she was. Growling, you commanded, “You’re gonna stand here until WE’RE done talking!”

Paige stands with her hands on her hips, clenching at her sides with such restraint that her basketball shorts ride up, revealing her boxers underneath. She warns, "Stop playin' with me, yo. Step aside." and as she advances again, trying to get to the bathroom door behind you, you block her path, arms crossed and eyes flashing. Sneering, you challenge defiantly, "No. What are you gonna do if I don’t step aside, P? Hm? You gonna hit me?"

She takes a deep breath, drops her head, and shakes it exasperatedly before a light chuckle escapes her, broad shoulders bouncing. “Whatever, ma,” she mutters, turning around and picking up the clothes she’d left scattered on the floor. “I’m gonna go shower at Mikayla’s — forget this.”

You don’t have enough time to be angry about her saying she’s visiting Mikayla’s house—the slut you’d warned her to stay away from. Instead, you sprint to the front door, grab her keys off the rack, and hide them behind your back. Coldly, you say, “You’re mine, Paige. Turn around and get your ass in bed, NOW! You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Paige knows you and your past well enough to recognize that you aren’t joking about this possessiveness. However, she’s far from intimidated at the moment. Instead of backing down or appeasing you like she usually does for her princess, she glares at you with a fiery defiance. Her voice is firm as she refutes, “Give me my keys, Y/N.”

You gaze at her, a smirk forming on your face as you watch her façade of nonchalance crumble. Her face turns a subtle red, veins bulging in her hands as she holds them open, waiting for the keys, her lips curled inward and cheeks hollowed. She stands there expectantly, like a statue, until you bristle as she seizes your wrist, slamming it against the door while reaching for the keys with her other hand. Instinctively, you counter with your free hand, pushing her away. She’s lost her calm and collected demeanor. It’s scarier how she doesn’t run but still chases you with the relentlessness of a predator. Her eyes blaze with determination as she follows your running with a steady, purposeful stride. You taunt, “Come and get it, doggy! Yeah, you little bitch!” luring her toward the bathroom, the only room in the house with a lock, and Paige knows exactly what you’re up doing. Just before you can slam the door in her face, Paige lunges for it and forces it open, stepping inside and backing you against the door. This time, she tries a different approach to get the keys—she clasps your waist, holding you in place with her knees pressed against your smaller legs, effectively immobilizing you. As she tussles with you for the keys, you keep a tight grip on them. The struggle is fierce, and you're both panting in each other’s faces, exchanging only ragged breaths. You finally manage to break free from the bathroom and run for the bedroom with Paige hot on your heels. As you glance over your shoulder to see where she’s at, you realize too late that she’s no longer focused on reclaiming her keys. With a swift tackle, she takes you down onto the bed, pinning you there and forcing you into submission. The keys fall out of your hand, but Paige remains on top of you, her anger unrepairable as she growls, “Wanna bitch at me like that when I’m tired?” Her big hands begin to untie your nightrobe. “Wanna piss me off when I’m trying to be nice about things?”

She moves with an almost animalistic quality, yanking you down the bed by your legs and sending your clothes flying off with the force of her pull, baring your body to her hungry blue eyes. She hisses against your neck, “Little bitch?” and you nod rebelliously, “Yeah..fuck,” you heave, “look at you, so pissed, hm?” Her words are unbearably sexy when she vows, “I’ll show you a little bitch.” Mere moments later, she���s seated on the edge of the bed, with you draped over her lap like a ragdoll. You’re writhing, still trying to resist, biting and clawing at her thighs, but Paige’s grip is unyielding. Under her strength, you’re completely powerless.

Her hands spread your ass open, giving her a clear view of your dripping pussy. She chuckles cockily, the smirk evident in her voice even though you're not looking at her when she drawls, “This is why you’re really bitchin’ out, huh, ma?”

You whine at her words, stuttering and squirming, “Let me go, Paige, f-fuck!”

She tuts dismissively. “Aw, but that’s not what you really want, baby... you just need this pussy fucked, don’t you? To get fucked back to your senses—make you my good girl again, my princess...” she purrs, her fingers sliding through your slick and teasing your asshole. Then you hear the dirtiest, most sinful suck of fingers in her mouth you’ve ever heard.

Hips arched high with her strong arm restraining you from running, pressed firmly into your lower back, punching pressure deep within and outside of you, all aligning on the inside, she works her fingers into your soaking wet cunt with precision. She curls and bruises against your walls, relentlessly hitting that spot that makes you squirm like a torture puppet and cry out, "Ah!" for your dear life.

Her smarmy, taunting response? “I know, baby, I know, fuck… too tight for it, I know,” she bellows, feeding off your whimpers and whines with a sadistic delight. That smirk on her face—the one you wish you hadn't turned back to see—tells you she's savoring this victory a little too much and has no intention of letting you go anytime soon, even if you've clearly accepted that you're the little bitch. “Please,” you plead, sinking your nails into her thigh, but it doesn’t seem to perturb her in the slightest—if anything, it only eggs her on, makes her devilishly speed up. “It won’t happen again—I-I won’t act like a bitch anymore, daddy, I’m sorry,” you submit, hoping for some mercy, but she’s unforgiving. She chuckles darkly, yanking you up by your hair so you’re forced to look her in the eye, even if hers aren’t fully focused on yours, watching how your tits bounce as she fucks you senseless. “One more time,” she stares at them, biting her bottom lip with a smirk before she refocuses and demands it sternly. Without hesitation, you repeat it louder before she even finishes her command: “I won’t act like a bitch anymore, daddy, I’m sorry!” She smirks, her grip tightening. "I know you won't. Not after I'm done with you." She releases your head, and you fall forward hard, your back arching under what feels like tons of weight as she drives into you overwhelmingly, making you cry out in shock. "Shit!" you gasp, involuntarily pushing back against her long fingers to soften the blow and the jam, so forcefully that your ass claps with each thrust as she fucks into you.

“Say my name, baby, who’s fucking you,” Paige demands. You groan, clenching around her thick, long fingers and spilling spurts of slick arousal as you pant, “You, Daddy!” Paige tilts her head, unsatisfied. “Nah.” Her hand, once forcing down your back, quickly wraps around your throat, clasping firmly as she whispers, “Tell me, Ma.” With the blonde holding you tightly, despite your attempts to escape, with no leverage, she easily grips you by the throat like a puppet, forcing you back onto her fingers with insane speed and force. She thrusts into you even faster, your clit now grinding against her thigh. You hike a leg up in a desperate attempt to run or crawl away, but she's got you firmly in place.

“Paige! Paige, Paige, Paige, you’re fucking me!” you cry out.

“And you like it, baby? Like how my fingers feel fucking that tight pussy?” she taunts, flexing her leg muscles and increasing the friction.

“Aww shit,” you moan strainedly, feeling the familiar coil in your stomach emerge. Your body still tries to crawl away, but your brain forces you to stay put, losing all the air inside you.

“Stop fucking running, ma, take it,” she commands. “Take it, baby, just cum for me, kay? Cum for me, give me your cum.”

You listen to the sound of your cunt, feel it pulsing and clenching around her fingers before you give up and stop fighting and allow all the pleasure crash over you, your body convulsing as your orgasm hits. You gasp and cry out, surrendering to the intense sensation as your cunt tightens rhythmically around her fingers, your clit throbbing against her thigh. She fucks you through your orgasm, continuing even after that, giving you no recovery time, no chance to catch your breath before she has you on your back, legs still spread and a wet mess beneath you. Leaning in, she murmurs, “Be good for me, be still, kay? Let me clean you up—jus' lemme taste you, baby.”

Your hand comes up to cover your face, crying out as you feel her tongue glide through your folds. Gripping onto her hair tightly, you sob—a genuine cry from the overstimulation. Through your tears, you manage to gasp, “Fuck, baby, it hurts so good, ugh!”

You shout and clamp your legs shut, burying her with a guttural scream once her fingers scissor your folds and hold them open, her tongue flicking exactly against your clit, making direct contact.

She pries your legs open inhumanly, like an uncaring monster, her voice resounding and vibrating in your cunt, "Hold your ankles in the air." a command.

You obey, and she’s even nice enough to help, her strong arms holding your legs apart as she laps and slurps up all your cum like she’s parched, her swallows audible and incredibly sexy.

You look down at her and watch her head shake around wildly, losing herself in the abyss, entranced. You try to push her away by bucking into her face, hands occupied, but you end up unintentionally pushing her closer instead. You whine out desperately, your toes, nipples, and cunt especially on fire. "Pl-PLEASE!" you gasp, "I c-can't, I’m gonna—" Her fingers replace her tongue on your clit, while her tongue dips inside you as she murmurs, "Mhm," You cover your face, and the last thing you hear before you pass out is the frantic noise of her tongue fighting to slip even deeper inside you. There’s the sound of a leak, then the subsequent opening of your eyes after what feels like days. You look down at your girlfriend to find her face glistening in a pool of arousal, juices smeared everywhere. Her first instinct? To lick around her mouth, trying to savor the taste as she smiles at you smugly, knowing she’s clearly gotten her point across to your fucked-out self.

Needless to say, Paige has proven herself to you as she knew she would always: she is NOT someone to be underestimated.

MASTERLIST

AUTHOR NOTE #2: uhh so i reread this and i just wanna know if anybody else reading this who writes, is it crazy i reread my own work and blush at it like a viewer 😅 am i a freak guys 😅😅😅 do you do that too?? ANYWAY GUYS PLS INTERACT WITH ME ILY ALL MWAH!

[gojobbg]

okay so ur writing is so good wth. i wanted to request smth...

hear me out: toge with a partner who's never been able to finish with anyone in bed before. like all he would have to do is use he cursed speech....

i'm crying screaming and slamming my keyboard. this is such a hot concept, stop. I wish we saw more of him in this series, they did my man dirrtyyyyy. thank u for your compliment & thank you for this req anon, i got u <3

pairing: reader(f) x bf!inumaki (aged up)

synopsis: you didn’t want to admit you were never satisfied. It was simply that previous partners weren't able to keep up or just didn't care to put in the work in bed. But for Inumaki, your satisfaction was before anything. He couldn't finish if you didn't, first. And he knew exactly what to do.

warnings: shower sex, oral (head), overstimulation, sexual use of cursed speech

a/n: i got nothing, just thank you for the req and thank u to everyone who enjoys my writing :)

You didn't think you were that hard to satisfy, but history seems to repeat itself in torturous ways.

Before you dated Toge, your sex life was very...unfulfilling to say the least. Left and right, all the men you've dated or just fucked could never quite reach you to the point of ecstasy. Having to fake an orgasm became subconscious to you, and you never learned to speak up for yourself and your sexual needs. That was, until you met Toge.

Toge was different from the men you've met prior. Though he was a man of very few words, he was an amazing listener and a better lover. In the few months that you have been dating, Toge has been the most considerate gentleman of them all. He's never verbalized his love, but you've always felt it in his actions.

After a very uncomfortable conversation regarding your unfulfilling sex life, Toge was determined to make love to you. The way it's supposed to be done.

But tonight was different. Toge's plans were far beyond what you could have ever imagined.

On your way home from work, you were welcomed into a recently cleaned house. Toge purposely took on an early mission instead of his usual night venture, making it opportune. to surprise you with a clean house. As you put your bag down, Toge quickly met you in the hallway.

You smelled the familiar scent of pine needle and cedar atlas. The woody musk that emanated from his body complimented his lazy, home fit. He was draped in a black long sleeve shirt, the cotton fabric that allowed him to stretch the way he likes. With hands stuffed in his gray sweats, the man stood before you proudly.

"Hi, m'love," you coo quietly. While you took off your shoes, Toge crouched down to meet your height and smiled warmly. It was rare to see his mouth, the Snake Eyes and Fangs seal sitting comfortable at the ends of his lips.

He gently pats your head with his hand, "Kelp." With his other hand, he grabbed your slippers from the rack, and placed them before you. Your heart flutters as you slipped your tired feet in them and adjusted. "Salmon roe," Toge says quietly.

Hmm? You wonder in your head as the tall, slim man turned the corner to the kitchen. You follow swiftly behind him, only to find dinner ready at your small dining table. "Oh Toge, you didn't have to!" You exclaim at his kind gesture. Due to Toge's constant night missions, you took on the role to cook for you two. But since he decided to take a daytime mission, he had enough time to rest and cook.

Toge only smiles widely before pulling your chair back a bit and waiting for you. He was so good to you, your heart could break out of your chest from profound emotion. You felt warm, and your whole body felt like it could float. You take your seat and feel him push you in slowly. He takes his seat across from you and giddily watches as you take your first few bites.

The flavors saunter in your mouth like two lovers in a tango, "oh my goodness, Toge!" You nod your head in approval, "this is so good! You have to teach me one of these days."

Toge truly paid attention to you when he makes no advances on you until you were showered. He knew you wanted to wash off your day, especially with how taxing your job was. So although he wanted to kiss you desperately, he also knew a thing or two about patience. But, you would never push away his advances whenever his mood was over the roof.

With the shower already prepared (courtesy of your boyfriend), you quickly stripped and entered the shower. Warm water sent shots of pleasure through your body, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. Droplets of water streamed down your chest, with the dews hanging from your now erect buds.

As you rubbed soap all around your wet body, you heard the bathroom door open and close. "Toge?" You asked calmly. The sliding door of the shower was designed distorted, so you could see a body but not the details. He confirmed his presence with a gentle Salmon roe, so you smiled and carried on. But through the door, you noticed that the black and gray of his outfit was suddenly being removed from his body.

You decide not to question it and continue to clean yourself. But then the sliding door began to open slowly, and your lovers head peeped into the shower. He's seen your body before, but even so. "B-baby?" You stutter a bit, your face hot and crimson from his jade eyes.

Toge was completely stripped before you, verifying that your eyes did not deceive you. He was slim but toned, his muscles subtle but very present. His abs dented lightly down his stomach, his thighs ornate with shaded grooves of muscle. He completely enters his body and slides the shower shut, looking down at you with eyes full of hunger and lust.

"Just wanted to shower with me?" You ask curiously, your body completely ornated with lathered soap and pearl bubbles. He doesn't give a clear answer, you couldn't quite read his expression. "Toge?"

In a sudden movement, his hands cup your cheeks and he pulls your lips to his. His member pressed against your stomach, feeling it twitch eagerly from the long-awaited contact. His lips were always so soft and smooth as they massaged your bottom lip gleefully. They tasted of strawberry, and his mouth of lemonade after having a cup with dinner. He tasted of summer, the saccharine sweetness of his mouth and love tantalizing.

These were the moments of exception, when Toge could not contain himself. His hands found solace on your ass, his fingers denting into your cheeks desperately. He rubbed them lovingly, squeezing and pulling them. He would slide upwards to rub the tips of his fingers against the dip of your back. He couldn't get enough of you.

You wrap your arms around his neck, your hands playing with his platinum locks. Toge grew his hair quite a bit, his spikes no longer able to stay up. They hang just before his shoulder blades, his locks sticking on his back due to the water. His skin was rough due to his extensive collection of scars but you didn't mind. This is Toge, and you loved everything about him.

He pulls back quickly, your lips missing his warmth. You look at him trivially, waiting for his next move. His eyes burn into yours, his jade eyes dimming. He takes both of your wrists and turns you around. Now facing the wall where the shower head hung, he guides your hands to the wall. The shower now focusing its water on your ass, you look back anxiously at your silent lover. "B-baby? What are you--ooh!"

Toge's lips found their way to your upper back, kissing along your spine. He peppers his kisses downward, using his tongue occasionally to lick along your back. Reaching your ass, he begins to plant multiple kisses on each cheek before his hands find their way to your inner thighs. He pushes them away from each other, with you following his lead and separating them.

In moments, you felt those soft lips against your own. You jump, not expecting to feel his tongue begin to drag in the crevice of your cunt. You could feel your legs already going weak by just the start, his lips finding his way to your leaking hole. He adjusts himself so you could see his head below you, giving you a mischievous smile before taking hold of your hips.

He brings his head back between your thighs, his sharp nose just grazing your clit. "mmm, babyyy," you whined, your toes curling from Toge's sporadic sharp breaths. His cool tongue lapped around your hole before sticking it in fully. His lips were pursed around your cunt, sucking gently before becoming a bit more aggressive. Precum slid out from your cunt like sap from a tree, with Toge desperately wanting to taste you more. "my clit, p-please..."

He hums against your pussy in response, his tongue finding its way to your pearl. He struck gold, your body beginning to tremble as the tip of his tongue twirled around your pretty clit. He licks you selfishly, occasionally sucking it with his teeth teasingly grazing it. You twitched every time he slowly dragged his tongue up your clit.

"s-so good, it f-feels so good, Toge," you moan out, your nails beginning to claw at the porcelain wall. His mouth on your cunt, warm water crawling down your spine. Your body was in paradise, and you were only getting closer and closer to finishing. But, Toge suddenly stops, looking up to see your exasperated face. Your chest was heaving, with your breasts hanging above him, covered in suds and temptation.

He gives you another smile before finding his way back behind you. You were able to relax a little bit, but Toge immediately got to work. He closed your legs, but kept you pressed against the wall. Holding your hip with one hand, he uses his other to rub the tip of his cock at the folds of your pussy. "ahhh..." you moan, eagerly waiting to take him in completely.

Birth control was the best decision you made. You loved feeling his raw cock slowly slide into you. You loved hearing the string of grunts leave his lips, his body shivering from the feeling of your tight walls. It filled you up lovingly, his tip just kindly reaching your g-spot. He whispers another sushi ingredient, waiting for the cue to keep going. "yes, fuck-!"

He started off slowly, his cock going in and out of you. But Toge lacked the patience to keep that pace, and started to go much faster. "h-hey!" You yelp, your nails desperately wanting to dig into the wall. Your boobs hit one another with every thrust, inspiring him to fuck you a little more ruthlessly.

His hands find their way to your chest, his hands taking hold of each tit. He holds them firmly, with your buds now between his indexes and thumbs. The rest of his hands grip your mounds so he could press your ass completely against his body. The palms of your hands lost hold on the wall, with only the tips of your fingers keeping your balance.

He was fucking you the way you loved. His body and yours colliding with the load splashing of water that coated both of your bodies. His quiet grunts and groans did a number on your body, unable to control yourself. You tighten around his member even more, forcing him to slow his pace. But still, Toge rammed his cock in and out of you, your precum mixing with the water and soap that's long left your legs.

"b-baby, I'm gonna cum," you stutter out, "i-i can't hold it in anymore..."

With a few more aggressive thrusts, you let go and finish all over his cock. You felt it sputter out of your pussy, your legs beginning to shake from the overwhelming feeling. Getting fucked like this and finishing-- you would never let history repeat itself again. Toge removes his cock from inside you, holding your hips immediately to make sure you didn't lose your balance.

"Thank you..." you whispered, your voice slightly raspy from your exhaustion and the sex. But when you thought it was done, Toge turns you around to face him and lifts you up. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, while his hands held you up from your ass. "Toge! W-what are you--?"

Your back meets with the cold wall, and Toge's hands house themselves in the bend of your knees. His cock finds his way back into you, and begins to fuck you mercilessly. His purple eyes watched your body, biting his lip at the sight of your bouncing boobs and the way he was fucking you.

You, however, felt light headed from ecstasy. Your eyes stayed rolled at the back of your head. Your pussy was hot from the overstimulation. You had just came, and Toge was planning to do it again. He was fucking you with the same pace, his cock pushing out your juices at every thrust. "t-too much-- baby, i-it's too much...!"

Your words quickly escape you, only strings of curses and overwhelmed grunts. But Toge was relentless, railing you while keeping eye contact. His cheeks were rosy, his hair completely drenched and sticking to his forehead. His lips were slightly agape, taking in air in desperate breaths. He then winked at you before pressing his torso completely against yours.

His lips found its way to your ear, his jagged breaths tickling it. But then, it happened. "cum for me," Toge demands in a breath, your body contorting immediately from his words. Nails dug into his back, toes curling profusely. You felt your warm juices spill out of you, your pussy twitching around his cock, your body writhing in his hold. Then, in seconds, Toge came as well, filling you to the brim with his warm, sticky cum. He coughs a bit, but he slowly pulls out of you and gently places your feet back on the ground.

You had no words, relying on Toge to finish showering you, wrap you up in a towel, and carry you to the bed. He sits you down on the corner of the bed before running to get you a shirt from his drawer. You slowly slip into it, your eyes following your lover as he dried himself off before finding his own pajamas to slip into.

You continued to watch him as he went to turn off all the lights in your apartment except for the bedrooms. He returns to you, pulling out the covers and pulling the blanket over your body. Toge joins you, taking you into his arms as he rubbed the back of your slightly damp hair.

"Toge?" You ask quietly. He looks at you in your eyes, anticipating your words. "Was that your first time, um... doing that?" Purple eyes don't dare flicker as he nods silently. "Please... please keep doing that."

With a wide smile, a satisfied Salmon leaves his tongue.

a/n: i hope this was good xo. pls continue to fill my inbox with your horny fantastics here (im begging)

[saphronethaleph]

He's the Calm One

“Give yourself to the dark side,” Vader advised, as he stalked through the darkened areas of the throne room. “It is the only way you can save your friends. Yes, your thoughts betray you. Your feelings for them are strong. Especially for…”

He paused.

“Your sister,” he said, interested. “So, you have a twin sister. If you will not turn to the Dark Side, then perhaps she will!”

“No!” Luke shouted, springing out of cover, lightsaber held ready.

Vader moved his own blade in a block, then stopped a moment later as he realized Luke wasn’t actually attacking.

“You mustn’t make her turn to the Dark Side,” Luke said, voice laced with urgency.

“I must not?” Vader asked. “That is not up to me-”

“No, father, that’s not what I mean,” Luke replied. “It’s a matter of safety. Personal and… galactic.”

Vader’s expression did not change, because he was wearing a helmet.

“You realize that I have no idea what you are talking about,” he said. “Who is your sister?”

Luke paused.

“Leia,” he said. “You should know that, father. Maybe now you’ll understand.”

Vader’s helmet tilted slightly.

“What?” he asked. “I never felt a thing. Her emotions never betrayed her.”

“She didn’t know,” Luke pointed out. “I didn’t know until you told me.”

“Still…” Vader mused. “The Force can be strange… but you seem insistent on keeping your sister from the Dark Side.”

“You’ve met her, haven’t you?” Luke asked.

Vader paused, giving that due consideration.

“...I suppose she would probably be suited to the Dark Side,” he said. “She would make a good apprentice.”

“You’re not listening,” Luke complained. “She would be a terrible person to have as an apprentice in the Dark Side of the Force, specifically.”

Vader attempted to glare at Luke. “You fail to understand the value of passion to the Dark Side.”

“Why have you stopped fighting?” Palpatine demanded, from the other side of the throne room.

“We are having a moment,” Vader called back. “I am attempting to turn Luke to the Dark Side by using his family members against him.”

“Very well!” Palpatine said. “Continue! That usually works.”

Vader inclined his head, slightly, the only sign of what was probably a frown under his helmet.

“I may need to think about that,” he said, under his hissing breath, then returned his attention to Luke.

Who was gesturing for emphasis.

“Maybe I’m not getting this across properly, Father,” he said. “But perhaps… you sent Han to Jabba the Hutt, didn’t you? You knew him?”

“I do not know Jabba the Hutt, son,” Vader retorted, his voice dark with rage. “I know who Jabba the Hutt is. But I fail to see the relevance.”

“As part of the plan to rescue Han, she got captured,” Luke explained. “Jabba chained her up and made her a dancing girl. The moment I began to fight during the rescue, she cut the lights and strangled him with that very chain.”

He stared into the eyes of Vader’s helmet, unblinking and unbowed. “Do you understand, Father?”

Vader considered that, then nodded, very slightly.

“I begin to see your point,” he said. “Damn.”

“If Leia turned to the Dark Side and was made an apprentice to you or the Emperor, it would be extremely bad for the health of everyone inside this room,” Luke summarized. “And also for the galaxy, more generally, though it would at least be run efficiently.”

“The Emperor has brought order to the galaxy,” Vader said, in a sort of distant voice like he wasn’t fully paying attention to the conversation.

“Have you seen how much he’s spent on pointless superweapons that get blown up by the Rebellion?” Luke shot back.

Vader held up his free hand, and for a moment Luke wondered if his father was about to use the Force… only for it to mean nothing more than a request that Luke be silent for a moment.

“...humour me, son,” Vader said. “What, exactly, is your plan here?”

“With surrendering myself to you?” Luke asked, and got a slight nod. “I hoped to be able to convince you that you’d done something wrong, and that you could realize that there was still good in you. That you were not trapped in the Dark Side, and could – if you truly wished it – return to the side of good.”

He paused. “...I will say, Obi-Wan and Yoda both told me it was impossible.”

“They do that,” Vader said, still sounding distracted. “And my daughter was raised by Bail and Breha, and she ended up… hm.”

“...Father?” Luke asked, after several seconds of silence had elapsed.

“I am just realizing that you are, apparently, Padme’s child of the two of you,” Vader said. “She killed Jabba the Hutt? Really?”

“Really,” Luke agreed. “Since you send Han to Jabba, we came up with a plan.”

He twirled his lightsaber. “First, I gave Jabba the droids C-3P0 and R2-D2, after concealing my lightsaber in R2. Then Leia turned in Chewbacca for the bounty, while disguised as an Ubese, and threatened to set off a bomb. Finally I came in to ask politely for Han’s release, offered Jabba one last opportunity to free us while about to be thrown into the Pit of Carkoon, and when he refused I killed… about half of Jabba’s entourage. Leia got Jabba and the other half when she rigged his sail barge to explode.”

“...this is a new feeling,” Vader said, almost to himself. “This must be paternal pride. Damn.”

“Have you turned him yet?” the Emperor called, waspishly.

“I’m working on it!” Luke called back.

Vader missed a breath, then his respirator worked overtime to recover.

“I still want to turn my daughter to the Dark Side,” he said, once he’d recovered. “But mostly to find out what would happen.”

“Fair,” Luke admitted. “I’m curious as well, but I don’t want to be in the blast radius and I’m fairly sure the entire galaxy would be the blast radius. Even if we were both trained Jedi I’d insist on being the one who came along, because I’d rather see you alive instead of a sort of faint ozone sheen in the air.”

“What is taking you so long, Vader?” Palpatine demanded, stalking over. “By this point, someone in this room should be dead. This delay is entirely tiresome!”

“All right,” Anakin replied, and pushed Palpatine off the bridge.

“...do you think that counts as dark side or not?” he added, glancing at his son. “I’m genuinely not sure, he was a very old man…”

[citrus-writing]

yandere phantom troupe - make you mine

nsfw, warnings for dub-con and non-con

-------------

Thinking about yanderes you can avoid having sex with for a considerable amount of time. the ones who, despite wanting you so badly, have the patience not to force you into anything. Why would they, when you're already so perfect?  

Includes: chrollo, machi, feitan 

Chrollo sees you as so cute and innocent, sweet and shy, almost. And that plays into your favor when he's so cautious in his approach. He’s so patient with you. Because to him you're made of glass, and he won't risk breaking something so precious. A part of him wants you to come to him- Maybe after so long in isolation, you could. But if you don't, he's not too bothered, because of course you can't approach him with something like this- you must be so nervous. But as time drags on, and Stockholm syndrome starts to set in, you find yourself less and less opposed to the idea, and worse still, is that he notices the change in you.  

Machi is too nervous to talk to you, and she nearly punches you in a fit of nerves when you reach out to tug at her sleeve to get her attention- so it's safe to say she can't bear to touch you. When you touch her she feels electric, and it both excites and scares her. If you ever get to the point of wanting to be close with her, inviting her into your space is better than trying to invade hers. Don't hug her, ask her to hold you. Don't try to crawl into her bed, beg her to stay with you in yours. If you want her to touch you, it's best to tell her. It’s not hard to warm up the idea of being intimate with her, but she’s unlikely to notice your change of heart, too afraid to ruin everything she’s built with you. 

Feitan is once again, really messed up about this. Because he wants you, almost more than any of the others, but he can't seem to get close to you. It's almost a blessing that you shake and cry whenever he comes near. The sight makes him almost happy under normal circumstances. Except now; when he's sitting on the edge of your bed, and you're curled up as far away from him as possible. Of course, he's done nothing to make you warm up to him. In fact, being kidnapped by him is worse than you imagined. He's equal parts endeared and repulsed by the sight of you, and touching you is so much worse. He won't force intimacy for a long time, mostly based on his own anxiety at being close to you. 

Thinking about yanderes who try to make you give in to their advances. Yanderes who know they could take you by force, of course, but they’re far more charmed with the idea of wearing you down, making you come to them. 

includes: shizuku, pakunoda, shalnark 

Shizuku is almost pestering you about it- isn't she pretty? Isn't she sexy? Don't you ever wonder? You must be lonely. Wouldn't it be nice? To have someone touch you and love you and take care of you? She’ll say or do anything to try to wear you down, and sometimes you wonder if it’d be better to just let her win. But then you remember she kidnapped you, took you from everything you loved. Still, when she comes around and touches you just so, the temptation is ever present. 

Pakunoda isn't nearly as obvious, in fact, you can almost convince yourself that maybe your misunderstanding, maybe she just craves the closeness of holding you. But something about the offer to come to bed with her is laced with some kind of warning- the point of no return. And she’s been the perfect captor, caring and kind and gentle- you know that this would be the same, that she’d take care of you and that she’d make it good for you- but you cant let yourself give in, no matter what she does to sway you. 

Shalnark is someone who wears you down with time- sure, he could force you, but there's no fun in that. Not when it's you. He wants you to come around, wants you to break under the pressure. Every touch and kind word and every little gift has been leading you here, and you've fallen for it everytime. You've been grateful- and you can't pretend you didn't know the cost. So when he places his hands on your skin and feels you try to pull away, he frowns, because you’ve accepted everything else so willingly. Still, it’s cute to see you try to win this. 

Thinking about yanderes who force you into their bed, afterall, you belong to them. There’s no sense in denying themselves when you're already here, already locked in their home, already trapped with them forever. 

Includes: llumi, hisoka, uvogin 

Illumi goes forever without touching you- you almost believe he doesn't want to. You lull yourself into a sense of security that someone like him is above desire. That was your mistake. And now, pinned down to his bed, you feel like a fool for not having seen it coming. He’s wanted you, and his perceived hesitance was never for your sake; always just him taking things at whatever pace he preferred. And now that he wants more from you, he won't hesitate to take it. 

Hisoka doesn't wait long, to be honest. And with him, you see it coming from a mile away. As soon as he takes you away, locks you up in his home with him, you know that a part of it is this; that he desires you. You’ve known that from the start, and he’s never tried to hide it. It’s pointless to try to fight him on it, and if you give in to him, he makes a point to let you enjoy it. 

Uvogin also doesn't wait long, maybe he wanted to wait- because he’d love for his feelings to be returned, and the idea of you wanting him is enticing, but he lacks the patience and in the end, it doesn't matter. In the end, he’s already got you here and it’s only a matter of time before he has you in his bed. And waiting for you to come around to his advances is such agony. No, he’s decided. It’s better to take what he wants. 

[b1rds3ye]

AAAA i loved that 141 + masked reader one!! omg you're filling my head with mask ideas now...

what if reader had one of those LED masks that showed different facial expressions? just walking around going ":D" ":]" "^-^" "?" ">:(" as a substitute of their real expressions. omfg imagine them coming back from a mission and price is praising them on their work or smth and they just hit him with the "uwu"

I'm glad so many people are liking the prompt, I had a lot of fun with it too!! This is very much giving me Watch Dogs 2 Wrench but also Rina Tennoji omg there are so many legendary masked characters-

The rest of the 141 were confused at first. While the mask provided anonymity, there was also the benefit of hiding facial information to an enemy. But now with these LEDs your emotions could be read like an open book, but ultimately they found it endearing.

Soap in particular loves your mask. Johnny loves surprising you to generate "!"s over the eyes and finds himself smiling every time your mask switches to a new emotion. As demolition expert, he prides himself over the one time he got you so riled up that an error message flashed across your mask. He's also genuinely curious about the mask and will gladly try to help if there are any technical difficulties or if you want a hardware upgrade. He's also the most unnerved out of the 141 if you ever turn the LEDs off, immediately by your side to comfort you as he can no longer read your mood.

Gaz doesn't often provoke you but he does find himself snickering whenever your expressions change from others. It's also an easy way for Kyle to keep track of how you're feeling, even when no one's around your mask automatically goes ";-;" when you're feeling down and he'll check up on you. Whenever he does make a joke though, he's immediately looking to your mask to see if someone will appreciate his humour. He also wishes you turned off your mask more during missions, the little angry face your mask makes isn't intimidating in the slightest and he can't risk getting distracted cooing over you during an op.

Ghost is very curious. Your own mask has him wondering if his own needs a bit of an upgrade - perhaps an LED skull mask with a moving lower jaw. Simon's heart warms up a bit at how you've picked a mask that's still so comically expressive, he enjoys interacting with someone that's so upfront with their emotions. He won't admit it but he finds it cute how your mask goes "-_-" whenever he says one of his horrendous "military humour" jokes. He's considerate of your mask and ensures that there is no water or liquids nearby.

Price's first concern was practicality (how the hell were you going to use night-vision?) but once the mask seems to work without a hitch, he now checks on your mask to not only gauge your mood but as a visual indicator of the overall atmosphere among the rest of the task force. You're now his favourite person to praise. He doesn't give it freely of course, but most of his subordinates will try to hide their smiles as they glow under his praise as they keep up their tough soldier persona. You though? The sudden "! o !" and then consequential "^_^" as you walk away with a hop in your step is probably the sweetest thing he's seen in his entire military career.

It's all fun and games until you turn off the LEDs - usually done in dark/covert missions or when you're interrogating the enemy. That's when you're truly unreadable, a masked terror. As you eliminate enemies in close combat the last thing they will see is their own face contorted into absolute terror as it is faintly reflected like a memory against the bottomless darkness of your visor.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

[hanafubukki]

“Papa will you come back tomorrow?”

The innocently spoken words felt as if a thousand thorns struck Lilia.

Malleus climbed onto his bed; unaware of the turmoil his words had brought forth.

Papa.

Lilia took a shuddering breath in.

Papa.

Lilia clenched his fists.

Malleus couldn’t call him by such a title.

It wouldn’t be allowed.

“Malleus,” Lilia kneels in front of the little prince, “You can’t call me that.”

Malleus’ lips trembled, brows furrowed, “Why not? Papas are ones who takes care of and raises children.”

Lilia closed his eyes, he had to control his emotions; before holding the tiny hands clenching his clothes.

When had these hands grown? So small were they when he first hatched.

“My Prince, I am not your father.”

Meleanor and Levan, surely, they would laugh at his predicament.

But the Senate-

If the Senate found out, he would be barred from seeing Malleus.

He would never be able to see him again.

“But pa-”

“No.”

Lilia forced his voice to steady through the bitter gravel and yearning in his throat.

Every teardrop causing a fissure in his heart.

“I am just Lilia to you. I’ll only ever be your caretaker.”

Lilia straightens up, trying to ignore the shaking form of his princeling. Resisting taking him into his arms and soothing him as he had done many times before.

“Have a good sleep, My Prince.”

Lilia tries to ignore the sobs from behind.

“Papa come back!” Malleus wailed.

Lilia closed the door behind him.

Breaths coming out shallow, body heavy with grief.

Tears gather while teeth grit.

I’m sorry, my s—Malleus.

Lilia walks down the dark hallways, trudging forth.

Fragments of his heart left behind with each step he takes in tandem with the echoing sobs heightened by stone walls.

“Papa! Please! Don’t leave me!”

…yeah, I teared up a bit while writing this 😭💔 at least I didn’t kill off malleus this time…I’m sorry.

Do you ever think about how Malleus might have called Lilia “papa” or any other fatherly term when he was young as all children do? To the parents they love?

(Under the cut because I have a lot of thoughts and feels)

Do you ever think about how Lilia would have been so happy to have been called that by him? But he couldn’t? Not only because of the memories of Meleanor and Levan (in fact, I think they would laugh at the situation and tell Malleus to do it more if they were alive just for Lilia’s reactions lol), but because of the Senate?

Because the Senate would never approve. And if Malleus called him such a loving term, they would ban Lilia from visiting even the few times he could or snuck into the castle for Malleus.

Even if you take into consideration of Lilia hiding the circumstance of Malleus’ birth so he doesn’t feel guilty, do you ever wonder why? Or what led to it? The senate already tampered with history and how Malleus was born and they tried to control Malleus even now (they didn’t like him coming to NRC, all the guards he had, Malleus having to sneak away, etc)

I can see them isolating Malleus from Lilia if he ever uttered such a term in front of them. Then, Malleus would have no one left but his grandmother who he rarely sees as is.

Do you ever think about how Malleus tried to call Lilia a fatherly term but he couldn’t. Whether because Lilia said it, someone else did, or he stopped himself?

And how that yearning affected them both? Hurt them? In this case, how if Lilia stopped him, Malleus never tries again?

Not only because of the rejection, but because he doesn’t want to lose Lilia? He doesn’t want to be alone again? How Malleus is more polite and subdued the next time Lilia comes?

And Lilia knows? But this is how it has to be? Despite his bleeding heart? And the pain he caused them both? Because at least this way, he can still visit? Do you ever wonder if this is why Lilia tried even harder for the treaty? For Malleus to have freedom?

And…do you ever wonder Malleus’ reaction to Silver calling Lilia “toto” and then later “father”? Ever wonder, if this is the reason why “Malleus was jealous of an acorn bracelet”? Because Malleus couldn’t do, give, or say to Lilia what he always wanted?

Ever think about how this could be why he refers to Silver as “Lilia’s son” or Silver being a child but never himself? How he buries his feelings even now hearing “caretaker” versus “father”? Because of such situations in the past or what led to it?

Because I do, and damnit, I’m crying thinking about it. 😭😔

Also little storytelling bits I like to add as an emphasis:

“Malleus -> My Prince”

To add that little bit of extra angst, that bit of boundary placed and rejection. 😔😭 OTL

How even speaking the words “my son” mentally might cause him to slip, and yet, he still calls him Malleus and not My Prince.