#I DID NOT EXPECT THAT BODY DISCOVERY WHAT THE FUCK

[soupyaaax3]

Finished chapter 2 daily life holy shit—

[xxsabitoxx]

Where JJK Men Are Sensitive

Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Yuta, Yuji, Megumi

Warnings: all characters are 18+, this is a smut headcanon post with various levels of lewd-content lol, proceed with caution... or not, I don't judge. I mean I'm the one who wrote it so...

A/N: tried a different style than how I did this with the Hashira lol. Thank you all for blowing up my "How JJK Men Eat Pussy 2.0" post! I was and still am absolutely floored with how quickly y'all blew it up!

Satoru Gojo

Satoru doesn’t tell you where he is sensitive because he wants you to figure it out through “exploration”. Given the fact that he is the Satoru Gojo, you jump on the offer to spend hours learning every inch of his body. You make a whole day out of it really, and it goes without saying that your endeavor was very, very successful. Sensitive and ticklish run a very thin line for Satoru and it is a line that is very easily blurred. Your first discovery was that he has a very sensitive neck. Something as small as your hands cupping the back of it was enough to have Satoru shivering in your embrace, whining a little into the kiss. You learned very quickly that one of his greatest weaknesses is your lips on his pulse, leaving faint bruises where you sucked. As your exploration continued, you found that Satoru was very reactive when you touched his chest. More specifically, you hadn’t expected him to moan the way he did when your tongue ran across his nipple by mistake. The noise that escaped him, paired with the visible twitch of his dick was enough for you to take the other between your thumb and pointer finger and pinch. The third discovery was that Satoru has particularly sensitive balls. Yep, that’s right, his fucking balls. You had given him head before, but you had never dared to touch him there since you weren’t sure how he would react. Since this was a “free-for-all” as Satoru put it, you gingerly cupped him and watched the way his jaw clenched. Your eyes were glued to his face as you massaged them, alternating your pressure to see how far you could take it before pleasure pushed the line and turned into pain. Turns out, they are sensitive but durable and well… he doesn’t mind if you’re a bit rough with him from time to time (all the time). 

Suguru Geto

Suguru refuses to let you figure out where he is sensitive until you catch him off guard one night and bind his wrists. Of course he can easily get out of them but he’s interested in indulging you because you look too damn cute when you think you’ve won. You’re pretty upfront with him about what you intend to do, which only makes him a little antsy as your fingers nimbly undo the rest of his clothing while you remain in nothing but his t-shirt. Suguru isn’t quite used to the roles being reversed but he’ll give it a try for you. The first sensitive point on his body that you discover is his ears, and it’s not because of his gauges. You actually avoid his earlobes all together, instead catching him by surprise as you sink your teeth into the shell of his ear. This earns a reaction neither of you expected, a low groan that vibrates his chest as you alternate the pressure of your nibbling before pulling away. Suguru’s cheeks are red now as you continue to explore various points on him, his dick painfully hard and sitting proudly against his abdomen as you work. The next spot is actually his sides, your fingernails scraping them has his body shivering in response. It seems some of Suguru’s sensitivity resides in the most random places, because you didn’t quite envision yourself laughing as you grazed your teeth down his side before biting softly and watching his back arch. By the time you reach his waist, Suguru is red in the face and panting, precum oozing steadily out of his tip and resting on his abdomen. He’s looking at you with blown out pupils, quietly begging you to touch him where it really “matters”, to which you shake your head. Suguru’s thighs are his other weakness, which you kind of figured since he always gets very fidgety when you sit on his lap or grind on it.

Kento Nanami

Nanami is a tough man to break down, but over the years you have located a few of his weak points. One of Nanami’s major weaknesses is his jaw/neck, more specifically when you’re kissing and sucking and biting there. There is something about the sensual drag of your teeth on his skin that has his composure dissolving. You know this of course, so you use it to get your way when Nanami is being a little too stubborn for his own good. This neck sensitivity goes a little further though, something as simple as adjusting his tie or fixing his collar will have Nanami shivering from your touch. You found another weak spot by mistake, turns out Nanami is rather ticklish when it comes to his Stomach. You had been riding him, initially placing your hands behind you on his legs to hold yourself as your hips rose and fell. But your back was getting sore and the angle was starting to get tiring, so you slowed and pushed yourself forward rather than leaning back. The moment your hands made contact with Nanami’s abs, he was gritting his teeth and throwing his head back. You initially thought you had hurt him by pressing down on him, but that worried thought disappeared the moment he gasped out for you to “not move” when you started to pull your hands away. You started paying a little more attention to his stomach shortly after that, just because you enjoyed the way he squirmed and fell apart. Unknown to you still is the fact that Nanami’s nipples are very sensitive. He keeps it hidden because he is utterly mortified by how turned on he gets from it. Even if your hand ghosts over them, even if he’s still fully dressed, the feeling has his face turning a deep shade of red. He knows if you figure this out, you’ll go out of your way to touch him there regardless of where you both are, and he just knows he won’t be able to stop the heat from flooding his face. 

Toji Fushiguro

Toji is pretty damn adamant that he has no “weak spots”. That’s up until your hand rests on the back of his slutty ass, tiny waist and he’s crumbling at the feeling. Something about your fingers on his skin has Toji losing his train of thought, he’ll stop mid-sentence if he feels your hands on his waist. Maybe it’s because of how intimate that one touch is, especially when you’re the one grabbing his waist and he’s not the one grabbing yours. Shiu likes to give Toji a funny look if you do this while in his presence, it’s typically one Toji ignores. To continue this “men with sensitive nipples” agenda I got going on, Toji will be putty in your hands the moment your lips wrap around one of his nipples. He’s utterly shameless when you start sucking and biting his chest, moaning and groaning while his hips buck into the air. You are mindful of how you straddle him solely because you don’t want to give him any sort of relief when you toy with him, hence his restless hips meeting empty air rather than your own. Toji’s rather embarrassed by how sensitive the head of his dick is, especially when you’re giving him head. Even the smallest of touches, the quickest tug, even the gentlest lick, will have his jaw going slack. You’re just as cruel as he is sometimes, deciding to focus all of your attention on the tip of his cock just to watch him struggle to clench his slack-jaw to try and hide his noises. You’ll have him coming in no time at all, making sure to be relentless in your teasing after the fact because he can be just as relentless with you when roles are reversed. A bonus spot is his balls, because why the fuck wouldn’t they be. He’s desperate to keep that one a secret but you are too damn observant to get anything by.

Sukuna Ryomen

Sukuna, sensitive? Nah, no fucking way. He is the only man on this list that can confidently say he doesn’t have a single point on his body that will have him crumbling if you touch it. The thing with Sukuna is that he will not let you have enough freedom to roam his body. You are his, but he is not yours. That’s not to say he’ll turn you down if you start sucking and kissing his jaw and neck, the gentle scrape of your teeth certainly do something to ease the tension in his shoulders. But that definitely doesn’t mean those spots are sensitive, nope, not even a little. Sukuna’s hips definitely don’t falter when you grind against his pubic bone while he has you stuffed to the brim with his cock. Oh and he absolutely can’t stand it when your nails rake his shoulders, specifically between his shoulder blades. The king of curses himself has NO weak points, I mean really he doesn’t. There is nothing you can do to get the curse to submit to you, and that’s just the facts. Sukuna definitely doesn’t groan when you do any of these things, he definitely doesn’t utter your name in a deep, warning rumble as you try and fuck with him. And he most definitely does not enjoy when you litter his skin with your own bite marks… just warning ya~

Yuta Okkotsu

Where isn’t this man sensitive? Yuta is pretty embarrassed about how easily he can fall apart under your touch, especially when you are holding his hips while you kiss him. Something about the way your fingers dig into his skin, as if trying to keep him close while he has his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Like he’ll disappear if you let him go, fuck it just get’s him going. Depending on where you are, Yuta will likely have you pinned to the wall the moment he feels your hands desperately clawing at his hips. You found out pretty quickly that Yuta’s hip sensitivity spreads down to his thighs. The moment your back hits the wall, Yuta is shamelessly shoving his leg between your thighs, spreading them for him as his knee hits the wall and his thigh is slotted snuggle against your heat. Yuta’s noises are relentless as your hips grind down on his thigh, the muscles tensing under your movements and only adding to the shared pleasure of it. You realize pretty fast that Yuta enjoys marking you, but that he also enjoys being marked. That goes hand in hand with his numerous sensitive spots. One time you actually bit his shoulder and he swore he could have come, completely untouched, right then and there. You’ll have his eyes nearly crossing if you rake your nails along his back, the stimulation your sex offers him paired with the ticklish/scratchy stimulation of your nails on his skin is enough to have him sobbing. Yuta will absolutely lose his mind if you bite his neck too, he gets off to being covered in your love bites. That being said, Yuta’s dick is just as sensitive, if not more sensitive than the rest of his body. When you first started having sex, you would tease him by saying you need to fuck more often so he can build his tolerance. Not that you mind having multiple short rounds, especially since he makes sure you cum Every. Single. Time. 

Yuji Itadori

Bless this man, he’s so touch starved that it’s impossible for him to not get the chills whenever you touch him. Yuji’s beyond sensitive, especially when it comes to your touch. Some of his most sensitive spots are actually pretty random and sometimes very specific. For example, just below his ear, that spot on your head where your jaw ends and your ear lobe nearly meet. You kissed him there once, a kiss placed among many, but that was the one spot that had him breathing out, begging you to do it again. So you did, kissing intently and sucking a bruise there until Yuji’s fingers were nearly bruising your waist. You learned his body pretty fast, finding that his chest was pretty sensitive as well, earning you pretty noises every time you so much as ran a finger down his sternum. He doesn’t particularly enjoy his nipples being toyed with roughly, that’s one area that’s more painful-sensitive rather than pleasurable-sensitive. But he doesn’t mind if you kiss them or lick them gently. He’s all for massages, especially when you have him on his stomach, your hands kneading the muscular flesh of his back until he’s shamelessly groaning as you work out the tense knots. But nothing could have prepared him for the pleasure your hands brought him when you began massaging the small of his back. It was enough to turn his groans into moans, goosebumps erupting over his flesh as he shivered uncontrollably. You listened to him, following the instructions he cried out for you to not stop, noticing the way he was grinding his hips into the mattress below you. The sight had been so lewd that you couldn’t make yourself stop even if you tried, dying to see how it all played out, dying to see if he’d make himself cum. Yuji adores it when you run your hands all over him, the feathery light, ticklish touches are enough to make his lips buck, cock twitching violently as he waits for you to do more to him. 

Megumi Fushiguro

Oh Megumi…Megumi Megumi Megumi. He takes after his fathers, not willing to admit he has any weak spots but also willing to let you try and find them. Contradictory but either way, you’re eager to know how to make the typically stoic man crumble. It came as a shock when you figured out one of his sensitive points within thirty seconds of climbing into his lap. Megumi’s thighs are very sensitive, even from something as simple as your weight settling on them. It also helps that the heat from your covered sex can be felt through the material of his clothes, your closeness only making it more apparent. You’ll use this information against him later on, especially on nights where you just want to get him worked up. Turns out Megumi’s neck is pretty ticklish, the mix of your soft lips and hair as well as your teeth gently grazing him is intoxicating. Megumi finds himself struggling to stifle his noises as you mark his neck up with as many love bites and bruises as you can before his self restraint runs thin and he gives up on this whole “locate the weak spots” endeavor. Did I mention he takes after his fathers, cause he does. Megumi is mortified by this fact, but his balls are pretty damn sensitive. After an hour of making out and letting you feel him up, you finally reward him for his patience and give him head. He’d rather your sex but he’s too damn worked up to care at the moment, and your mouth is fucking perfect anyways. So, given that he’s let you have more leeway in the last hour than he has during any other of your sexual encounters, you take the liberty of cupping his sac as you wrap your lips around his tip. You nearly choked when he almost immediately spilled into your mouth, the hour of teasing had worked him up more than either of you anticipated and he had no strength left to mentally prepare for you doing something as bold as that. 

[littlelamy]

𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮𝓼

lamy's note: hi everyone!! sorry for not being as active on this blog. im going to try and post (and answer more asks) from now on!!

rafe’s footsteps were slow, deliberate, the leather of his boots a whisper against the polished floor. he had come home early, the plans he’d canceled clearly secondary to the discovery laid out before him: you, sprawled on the bed, your back arched as your fingers gripped the base of a slick dildo, thighs glistening in the low light, evidence of how long you'd been working yourself, head thrown back, moans filling the space, completely unaware. until now.

the creak of the bedroom door had you freezing, eyes snapping open to meet his piercing gaze. his lips curled into a slow, dangerous smirk, the kind that promised trouble.

"well, well," rafe drawled, voice low and gravelly. "couldn't wait for me, huh? decided to be a greedy little slut all by yourself."

"I—" you stammered, cheeks flushing with heat, but the words died as he strode toward the bed, his presence overwhelming. he grabbed the toy still buried in your soaked cunt and yanked it free, making you gasp at the sudden emptiness.

"you're dripping," he said, his tone a mixture of amusement and reprimand. he ran the tip of the dildo along your folds, teasing, before tossing it aside like it was worthless. "this is what you need? some plastic junk? i'll show you what you need."

before you could respond, his hands were on you, flipping you onto your stomach with effortless strength. his weight pinned you down as his fingers probed your slickness, one thrusting inside with ease, then another, his thumb circling your clit.

"you're so wet for me," rafe murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "but i think we can do better. i think all these holes of yours need attention tonight."

rafe’s eyes roved over your quivering body, stretched out beneath him like a banquet he was starving to devour. he licked his lips, dragging his gaze from the glistening mess between your thighs to the dildo discarded beside you. a chuckle rumbled low in his throat, dark and wicked.

"you’re insatiable, aren’t you?" his voice was thick with mockery and hunger. he reached for the slick, glistening toy, still wet from your arousal, holding it up as if to inspect it. "did this little thing really satisfy you? or were you just getting started?"

you whimpered, squirming under his intense scrutiny, but his hand was already on your hip, pinning you firmly in place. "rafe, i—"

"you don’t get to talk right now," he growled, cutting you off as he shifted onto the bed, positioning himself behind you. his large hand slid down your back, forcing an arch in your spine. "you think you can touch yourself like this and not get caught? oh, baby, we’re doing things my way now."

the cool tip of the dildo pressed against your slick entrance again, teasing, but instead of thrusting it where you expected, he dragged it lower, smearing your wetness between the cheeks of your ass. your breath hitched as the realization hit, and you wriggled in his grip, but his hand clamped down harder, holding you still.

"stay. fucking. still." his voice was a command, laced with promise. "you’re gonna take this, and you’re gonna thank me for it."

you trembled, biting your lip, anticipation mixing with trepidation as the tip of the dildo pressed against the tight ring of your ass. rafe’s other hand spread you wider, his thumb stroking possessively along your skin. he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. "relax, baby. let me in. i know you can handle it."

with a deliberate push, the dildo breached your tightness, the stretch making you gasp. rafe groaned low, watching the way your body resisted, then surrendered to him. "fuck, look at that," he murmured, almost to himself. "taking it so well. such a good girl for me."

he pushed it deeper, slow and relentless, until the toy was buried halfway. the burn mixed with pleasure, and you couldn’t stop the moan that spilled from your lips. rafe’s grin widened, his free hand slipping around to toy with your dripping folds, fingers finding your clit and stroking it in lazy circles.

"see? you’re already loving this," he taunted, his voice a seductive growl. "your greedy little body just needs to be stuffed full, doesn’t it?"

he twisted the dildo, making you cry out, your back arching further. "you can scream if you want. no one’s here to save you. no one but me, and i’m not done with you yet."

as the toy slid deeper, he leaned back, taking in the sight of you completely at his mercy. his cock strained against his jeans, the image of you stuffed with the toy making him throb painfully. "this is just the start, baby," he promised, fingers still working your clit. "by the time i’m done with you, you won’t know what it feels like to be empty."

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[applejuicebegood]

hey! if its alright, can i request some jason todd hcs where the reader is jasons little sister seems like the opposite of him (like always yapping, loves bright colors, etc) but they actually like a lot of the same things (like books, maybe the reader gets him into manga?) so they get along well?

A/N: Such a sweet idea! I've always wanted to write for an olderbrother!Jason. I really hope you like it dude! Masterlist

You were made known to him after his resurrection. A half-sister, born to the same filthy blood as him. Tracking you down was difficult but Jason found himself desperately committed to your discovery. When he finally got your address from Oracle, Jason already recognized how similar you would be to him as he watched you blend and weave through the density of Gotham's infrastructure. He sighed under the domino mask, watching you duck under a chain-link fence, disappearing from his line of sight.

When you slide back under the rusted metal, having successfully fed the family of stray cats that lived behind the abandoned chevy, the sun had just disappeared behind Gothams wall of skyscrapers. And he was there, his sturdy figure flicking in and out of illumination as the car headlights passed behind him.

The sleek red of the domino mask and the bat on his chest didn't give anything away as to who was standing in front of you. You stumbled backwards, an exhale of cold air catching in your throat as your back hit the fence with a loud clang. Awkwardly raising your hands up beside your head, already shaking, you didn't take your eyes off of him. 'L-Look man... whatever you think I did.. I promise you've got it wrong... I-I was just.. just' Even your voice carried the same street-given cadence as him.

He stepped forward with caution, holding a gloved hand out in front of him, trying to signal no threat. 'Your mother Catherine Todd?' You nodded, disturbed at how guttural the Red Hoods voice sounded through the obvious distortion. The annoying prick of confusion made it's way up your neck. Did dad got caught stealing cigarettes again? Is the Red Hood gunna kill me.. like as revenge or some shit? Fuck- what the hell is happening?

Jason brought his hands to the side of his mask, clicking the release buttons. The metal lifted from his skin with a hiss. The cold air hit his face as his naked eyes met yours. Your obvious shock stung like the cold Gotham air stinging his warmed skin. 'I guess we have something in common then' He chuckled, kicking the heel of his boot against the concrete. Your hands lowered to your sides, breath clouding up in front of your face. His eyes.. they were deep, even in the dank lighting of the ally your could see their infinite quality. His jet-black hair was the same as yours, only differentiated by the stark white streak falling over his forehead. The sharp swoop of his jaw, and the forwardness of his cheekbones, it was like looking in a mirror. Was this how everyone else saw you? Desperately intriguing, like an old book waiting to be read.

'What the fuck is that supposed mean?' You spat, bracing your body for the possibility of needing to sprint. He came closer, his face appearing to twist in the familiarity of guilt. The metal of the fence dug into your back, every muscle tightening in the expectation of a punch or your arms getting shoved behind your back.

Jason's hand found it's way to your cheek, freezing you in place. The rough fabric of his gloves scratched your skin as his thumb brushed under your eye. The distant warmth hidden under the fabric disappearing quickly, your fearful gaze now tied to his. You could see the glimmer of tears gather in his mournful eyes as he smiled. 'You've got her eyes'

That was a two years ago now. When your brother found you and made it known of his want to be in your life. Two years ago before you started living with him. Before you would mold Jason's heart into loving you as his baby sister.

It was a strenuous and aggravating learning curve at first. Understanding how to be an older brother to someone as explosively emotional as him. You would rile each others frustration as easily as fire consumes a dead log.

While his teeth were blunt from years of biting the metal of his mental cages, yours were still sharp and desperate to sink into the world. It was hard for him to attempt to dull that fury in you. Anger at the world, at your parents for keeping Jasons existence from you, anger at him for not coming sooner. Fortunately for the both of you, Jason had a pretty good older brother to look up too and emulate.

Dick is the first one in the family to know about your existence. Jason called him, frustrated at himself for seemingly not being able to connect with you the way he wanted. His job as the Red Hood didn't stop because of you now living with him and he was finding it difficult to carve out time to spend with you let alone present himself as a dedicated older brother. 'Ok.. How about I cover your patrol route tonight and you take her to that bookstore cafe thing down on fifth?' 'But what if she doesn't like that kinda thing?' 'So ask her what she likes.. and buy her a muffin while your at it. Jason... this thing is gunna be hard, but your doing everything supposed too. But if you really wanna show this kid that she can trust you, you need to give it a lot of time' Dick said as Jason paced between the kitchen sink and the living room couch. 'You sound like you've done this before' Jason quipped, tugging at the roots of his hair with his elbows leaning on the kitchen island. 'I have.. six times at this point'

You hurried off in front of Jason before the store door could shut behind him. He soon found you frantically tracing the shelves of the comic section until you pulled out a volume he didn't recognize. But seeing your face alight with joy, your dimples pinching your cheeks the same way his did, it was hard for him not to smile. It didn't take long for you to start rambling about the story. He wished he had a notepad of some kind so he could write all this down to remember for the birthdays he hoped to spend with you. You both walked the aisles lazily, Jason pulled a few books himself to explain and recommend. You smiled at his consideration of your presence, excited that someone was showing this kind of care and interest. You both left with a decently heftily stack, excitedly talking about which ones you were going to read first. And in that moment, a spark was struck within both of you. A precursor to the furiously powerful flame of your love for each other.

Jason felt ever inch of him burn with pride and emotion when thinking about the importance of taking care of you. And you felt ever bit of relief knowing that there was finally someone you could trust innately.

And while even though you now shared in this trust and pride, your differences is what made Jason truly proud to be your brother. You slowly morphed his dark and rather bland apartment into a wonderful blend of colour. Your personality slowly revealing itself to Jason you both worked to paint your bedroom a lovely pastel yellow. Eventually ending in you guys flicking paint at each other.

Jason learned how easy it was to smile when he was with you. Pride bloomed warmly in his chest when he compared himself to you when he was your age. You are so much smarter and brighter than he was. And he was eager, almost excited to make sure that constant brightness you had was kept safe and secure.

Jason knew that his job would make your life hard by association. So as much as it hurt his ego, he had to call up Bruce and ask if it was ok for you to stay the night at the manor while he helped out Dick in Bludhaven.

Your introduction to your brothers adoptive family only made you even more excitable. And with Jason asking Bruce to set you up in Gotham High with Tim, Cass, and Steph, your 'sister' label was suddenly not just for Jason to claim.

Tim and Cass specifically thought how funny it was that both of you came from the same parents yet could be so different in presentation. Jason darkening of doorways was suddenly impossible when you appeared by his side - your arms full of Tupperware containers filled with treats you both had baked the night before, eager to hand out to everyone.

You loved the rest of the family, of course you did. But it was always Jason you would return too at the end of the day. Always him that you would come running too first.

Jason never expected in his second life to become an older sibling, to you or to anyone else in the family. The blood bond you shared was deeper and more emotionally sacred than anything he could have imagined. The care he had for you was so strong and potent, he felt the tug of warmth at the ring of your laugh because of something stupid he said.

He found you and carved out a little pocket of safety for both of you to exist within. He wouldn't let the fear and the horror of his world ever touch your intensely precious nature.

[velvet-paradox]

Oops!

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female reader Summary: you accidently call Simon while taking care of yourself. (got inspo from lovi on twitter) Length: Medium Warnings: NSFW 21+ ONLY, strong language, explicit content, porn with very little plot female masturbation, male masturbation, descriptive actions, anal mentions, toy mentions, A LOT of dirty talking, detailed smut. ENJOY!!!

It's not that his phone is ringing in the middle of the night. It's not even the fact he'd just finally drifted off to sleep either. When he fumbled and grumbled, (of course he was grumbling) Simon Riley wrote the book on the Art of the Grumble you were certain, he was just relieved it wasn't Price. He was exhausted and was thisfuckingclose to telling the captain to pound sand if he had to pull another fifteen hour shift on base!

But no, it was not captain Price and it wasn't Johnny either. The screen of his phone stark white, taunting him in the dark of his room, as the time and your name and picture popped up. The one he'd taken of you and König in Vienna.

What was this about now? Simon huffed, dark blonde brows forming together. You better not be calling him from the bar again, needing a ride home, not trusting anyone else to swoop in to the drunken rescue. You saved money on Uber's and he got to look after you.

WIn - win.

" 'ello bird, what is it this time?"

Silence.

"Foxy, come on now, it's late. If you need a ride jus--"

"Oh yeah, oh that feels so good." You said through your teeth, hissing from a bit of a distance. What was that? Were you getting laid? Jesus H. You sounded breathless, out of it until some more rustling and now your voice wasn't so clouded in mystery.

You whined out something fierce which both confused and interested to the masked devil.

"Fox, can you hear me? Bird answer m--"

Another low whine followed by a low and quiet buzzing. "Oh fuck, I wish you were here. Oh fuck that feels so good, bet you would have a fucking ball using this one me. Oh Simon… please!"

He sat up quickly, his ear to the phone burning hot, a blush of discovery rising through his naked body, Ghost ran hot most nights, even in the winter months and said fuck it about four years ago and slept nude. Either you were having a decent fucking shag with another man named Simon, or you were thinking about him.

Well what have we here, you little sly little fox?

"So glad I got that princess plug, this feels amazing. Oh Simon, if you only knew, if you only fucking knew the things I want from you. What I'd let you do to me, what I want -oohhh fuck too much too much--" you cried and the buzzing stopped abruptly. You were panting and humming and without a second thought Simon's hand was stroking his waking cock through his sheets.

And just what did you want him to do? Simon bit his lip as he listened in, pulling his phone away only for a moment, making sure the volume was at it's highest before he put it on speaker.

"O-oh god, yeah. I don't wanna' cum again just yet! Want you to tease me, tie me up and make a mess. Mmmm maybe you'd make me clean it up too. I'd ride your fucking boots if you asked!"

Oh. Simon was not expecting that sentence or the filthy way you moaned, satisfied with saying it out loud.

"Can I? Can I L.T. can I ride your boots, I'll clean up m-my mess, I promise. Mmm, sitting under desk, your personal desk bunny you're," you really started breathing hard then, whimpering as he could now make out a wet, splotching sort of noise. Oh fuck- you were fingering yourself now. "Your fucktoy. Oh god! Yeah, I wanna' be your little fuck toy. Use me. Use my mouth, use my fucking pussy, I am so wet right now, oh shit!" You giggled wetly to yourself, gasping and Simon could only imagine you adding another finger into your spongy hole.

A fucktoy? boot riding? a plug in your asshole with fingers in your cunt? You were a nasty, freaky little thing. Oh this was better than any video he had watched recently! Interactive as he continued to stroke himself with you, the sheet had earned a wet pre-cum spot and had to be pulled away, Simon put his head down and spat on his cock, smearing his saliva around the girthy crown of it.

You were a dirty girl.

He loved it.

You were demure in the halls, paid close attention to detail, slick and sly when you need be, hence your call sign being Fox. You were quiet but funny, witty and no one had a bad word to drop about about you. Your lore on how you ended up with the 141 was something of legend, a myth that one day you just appeared like an apparition and no one questioned why. Just roll with it. You didn't cause trouble, kept your nose down but you knew things about each team member that soldiers could only dream of knowing. A book of secrets. Clearly.

Simon chuckled darkly to himself all the things you could come up with, possibly thing he hadn't even heard of. Simon wasn't into the BDSM scene, he knew a variety of knots of course but to use them on someone, never given the opportunity. As he spat on his cock again, the image of your face appeared. Maybe you liked to be spat on in too. The cute little whimpers and gasps you were doing on your end might suggest you like a lot more than just spit.

"Simon please! Bet you feel good, I know y-you're big, you'd stretch me out. Make me gape for you, oh fuck that's so hot!" You're erratic, your sheets are rubbing together faster and you're now on the verge of squealing like a stuck piglet. "Hold me down, pull my hair, those big fucking hands of yours on me, in me. Oh baby, finger me nice and deep, deeper than I can reach."

You wanted him so desperately and that made the lieutenant fuck his fist faster, slippery and noisy and wet. His hard cock just sloppily going up and down his shaft, he squeezed the mushroom cap like head of it, felt himself jerk and twitch before going hands free. Slapping it against his messy palm.

"Talk me through it baby, tell me what to do, how to do it. How fast, how slo-ow, oh yeah that's nice. Oh fuck I can feel it coming, I'm gonna' cum again. Shit." You grunted and made the most delicious sound Simon had ever heard in his whole damn life.

You were moaning, tapping the gem of the plug if he were correct.

Tap tap, tap tap.

"Oh yeah! Fuck my ass, finger my pussy, make me cum. Make me squirt, shoot your fat fucking load all over my face. I'll be your best girl, I swear it I swear it! I'm gonna' cum if I pull this out now." You cried, panting to your little hearts' desire. Simon was close too, he did his best to match your moans and sobs of pleasure, planting his feet and bucking his defined hips.

"I'd cum just about anywhere on ya', Foxy." Simon grunted quietly to himself. "Foxy fucktoy. Mmmm that does 'ave a bit of a ring to it, aye? Bad fuckin' girl."

You slapped something then. Your face, a tit perhaps, your pussy but you were whining and carrying on and Simon had to shut his eyes, imagining you working the princess plug in and out.

Oh for fucks' sake, he'd sell his left nut to see your pretty face, worn out, fucked out, in bliss and pleasure, sticking your pink tongue out. Eyes rolled back as you continued to fuck your fingers in tandem with his own fist.

"Gonna' cum oh shit, I'm gonna' cum again. For you. Only for you, sir!" He could hear your sloppy fingers plunging in and out of you pussy, faster and faster, louder and louder you became.

"Oh fuck yes, Simon! Yes, sir!"

You came with a shout, groaning and grunting behind your teeth. You sounded absolutely feral, pornographic. He couldn't hold it back any longer either, Simon bit into his cheek and came into his hand, it shot up and onto his stomach, muscles tight as he coaxed the last dribbling bits of cum onto his skin. He gave his palm a 'good game' type slap with his cock, laying back further into his pillows.

God damn.

"Fuck that was good. If only, if only you were here mmmm." You finally huffed out. You rolled over, to whatever side of your bed or maybe just readjusted yourself and your toys but he heard a clank of something and then your voice, clear as day. "What the fuck…oh my god. Oh no! Oh please don't be a voice note!"

Simon had to chuckle at your change in attitude.

"Oh for the love of… please be asleep. Pleasepleaseplease L.T. be asleep. I didn't mean to call --"

"On the contrary love," Simon held up his phone to his mouth, he heard you gasp on the other end. "I heard every last word and you sounded so damn fine. Bet you're glowing after coming so damn hard," you scrambled for words on your line, mumbling out a sorry excuse for an apology. He clicked his teeth at you like one would a horse. "Ah ah, Foxy. If there's a green Post-it on my door when I wake, your wish will be my command. And I am often fond of those aren't, Fox?"

"Very much so, sir."

"That's a girl. Now why don't you go get cleaned up and get some rest. Depending on your answer, soldier, you just might need it."

Simon chuckled to himself when he rose that morning, his entire door was covered with little green Post-its and none were the wiser when you passed each other in the mess hall.

[gilverrwrites]

Say His Name

Tim Drake/Reader, ≈1.1K

AN: Someone asked for cute smut with Tim Drake and this certainly isn’t it, but it is on the burner. I’m imagining him like mid 20s here, but you could go older or even a bit younger if you wanted. It really was just a thought, I did not expect this to surpass a couple 100 words but here we are.

CWs: Breach of trust, teasing, masturbation, vouyerism, withheld information, vaguely dom/sub dynamics. GN!Reader

Thinking about heroes with semi/famous secret identities finding out their favourite civilians used to have a big ol’ crush on them and being so.fucking.normal. about it, especially because you don’t know what, who you’re confessing to.

Particularly the bats (Bruce, Dick, Jason) but could also be like Oliver, or Clark. But in this case Tim.

Like he came to your home in the night, now he’s supposed to be sleeping off an injury or rough patrol in your childhood bed but he just can’t nod off so he starts looking around, searching for a book or anything to calm his mind when he find a draw full off magazine/paper clippings of himself. There are little stickers on them, your paired initials surrounded by hearts written in glitter pen. So cute.

The discovery plays on his mind until he sees you again, probably the next morning. He’s suited and booted getting ready to head out when you poke your head in to check on him. He knows he shouldn’t say anything, asking would mean admitting to snooping, to invading your privacy, abusing your hospitality but… “So umm, what’s with the Tim Drake murder shrine in your desk drawer?”

Your eyes bulge, lips pulled tight as you process the question, you’re adorable when you’re frazzled.

“Tim Drake-Wayne.” You correct with an awkward laugh, trying to diffuse your own nerves with humour. “What that? Doesn’t everyone have one of those?”

“Nope, I’m pretty sure you’re the only one.”

“Maybe, probably.” Your laughter is more relaxed now, but there’s still a sheepish edge to your tone. The fact that you’re accepting his teasing, despite having every right to be mad only fuels his fire. “This is embarrassing, I used to have such a huge crush on him. They used to be on the wall, but I didn’t have the heart to throw them out when I took them down.”

He’d hoped your confession would satiate his curiosity, the burn in his loins, but he’s still not satisfied and you’re not refuting him so he keeps pushing. Metaphorically and physically. He’s not touching you but he’s close enough to smell your body soap as he asks, “Are you still into him?”

Fuck he’s too intense, you can barely maintain eye contact with him. Why is talking about another man getting you so riled?

“I don’t really follow him but I guess he’s still pretty hot.” Music to his ears, a nice long therapeutic scratch to his ego. “Why?”

“Just curious.” He replies and though his tone is unbothered, he’s body language is not; he’s all sharp moves and tense muscles. He averts his gaze for a moment, examining your sheets for the hundredth time then looks back to you. Your hands are preoccupied, anxiously fiddling with the hem of your top and he’s suddenly overwhelmed by the image of you touching yourself to the thought of him with those same hands.

“So…” he cocks his thumb to the bed you know too well. “I guess you used to sit in that bed and think about him, huh?”

His drift is caught, he can tell by the way you look upward, that you’re thinking, hard. Considering your next move and he’s praying you’ll keep biting his hook. Your shoulders sag as you look back at him and he knows he’s got you cause that means you’re relaxing, letting your walls down.

“If I show you something, promise not to judge?”

“I promise.” There’s more! “Scout’s honour.”

He was never a fucking scout, but he gives you his best approximation of a salute anyway.

The bedside table had been locked last night, the key was hidden under the reading lamp but he’d figured you wanted it locked for a reason. He wasn’t completely without shame. Now that you’re rifling through it though, he figures it’s free game for peeking. Once you find what you’re searching for you snap the drawer shut but not before he catches a glimpse of a few choice items, things that could come in useful, if he gets his way.

“These are what I looked at when I was thinking of him.” You hand him a small batch of photos, print outs of him Tim Drake, most are from a specific day. He remembers when they were taken, he was 18? 19 maybe? It had been an unusually hot day at Ivy U. After a long workout out he’d left the campus gym without a shirt. The paparazzi had had a field day, and apparently so had you.

His mind is drifting again to how that might look and he has to see it, has to convince you to show him. Without warning he closes the distance between you. Your hands fly up, settling gently on his chest. Your touch is so soft, nothing like the way he grips your hips for dear life.

The two of you had kissed before, but not like this, never like this. This is searing and needy. He’s completely invading your sense and it’s making you dizzy. Body to body, tongue to tongue. He groans into your mouth and it makes your already tense core begin to throb. Wanting to hear it again you roll your hips, grinding onto him and there it is again; He moans as you rub against the solid bulge in the crotch of his suit. Eager to coax more of those beautiful noises out of him you reach down, hungry to run your palm over his length but he stops you with a fast, iron like grip around your wrist.

Without a word, he guides you onto the bed. The control he has over you is driving you wild, it’s in your eyes, in your blown-out pupil and the way they watch his every move, waiting for what he’ll do next.

When you’re snug against the mattress, he tucks your hand into your waistband, tugging at the fabric until you get the idea and start stripping them yourself. Once exposed, you don’t wait for instruction, unable to stop from stroking your arousal.

You’re not sure what’s come over you, just that something about Red Robin gets you so inexplicably turned on and you’d do anything to have him relieve that tension.

“You want me to touch myself?” It’s a redundant question you’re already touching yourself. He nods anyway, mask hiding most of the heat that has flooded to his face.

His hand reaches for yours and you hope for a moment that he plans to take over but instead, he cups your wrist, turning your hand just enough to spit on your palm, offering additional lubrication. The lewdness of his actions has you breathless

“Say his name.” He states it firmly, you’re lost for a second, looking at him with big empty eyes, dumb on building ecstasy. “Say Tim while you’re touching yourself.”

[comatosebunny09]

talk to me | astarion a.

genre(s): erotica, romance (?) warning(s): praise, dirty talk, female reader, blood drinking, p-in-v, cock warming, terms of endearment, language, blue balls of the female kind summary: astarion discovers you have a thing for praise. what sort of rogue would he be if he didn’t exploit such a weakness? now listening: the lost soul down - nbsplv notes: hi. no excuse, just horny. for @nanaoise08squad. 😅😅😅 thank you for reading, my turtle doves. ❤️❤️❤️

Astarion learns all too quickly that you have a thing for praise. 

He first discovers it by accident. 

After you solve a tricky puzzle standing between you and some much-needed status buffs for your party.

“Excellent work,” Astarion lauds as the magic cools in his veins. He shakes his limbs, sighing like the satisfied cat that finally caught the canary. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you, my dear.” 

He pats you between your shoulder blades for good measure. A seemingly harmless, friendly gesture that causes your body to tense and the leather hilt of your sword to scrunch in your fist.

Keen ears capture the hitching of your breath, your quickening heartbeat, and a mousy squeak pinched from your throat. The pheromones you begin to ooze are sweet as sunmelon, amplifying his intrigue and filling his head with static.

“Oh? What’s this now?” Astarion purrs, stepping around you to have a look at your face. He wears a smirk that bears one canine, and you try valiantly to tuck your bashfulness into your armor, turning your head with a cough. “Did the little pup like that bit of praise?”

If you had a tail, it would surely be wagging. The idea that something so meaningless could get you off makes something glacial sink into Astarion’s belly.

“Bugger off,” you murmur whilst he leans closer. You dismiss him with the wave of your hand, spinning ’round to mask the waver of your voice and the heat igniting in your face. 

You jog away to reunite with the rest of your party at the mouth of the cave, hoping to put an end to this conversation.

Astarion clicks his tongue, drumming his fingers on his chin as he watches you retreat. Can’t help the Cheshire grin that splits his face in twain at his new discovery. 

There was no mistaking the look on your face. The widening of your eyes, the sudden clench of your thighs. The musk of your arousal sits fresh on his tongue.

You liked his little compliment, didn’t you?

He entertains this newfound information a moment longer before joining the lot of you, all crinkly-eyed and smug in your peripheral. 

Your sigh is weighted, and you drop your shoulders, knowing he intends to milk the hells out of this

And milk it, he does.

He has you spread so pretty on his lap, fingernails digging into the meat of your sticky thigh to keep you nice and open. 

Astarion’s free hand manacles your arms behind your back, pinned between your bodies. You could easily break free if you so choose. But you being such an obedient pet for him…

Fucking hells.

His breath is cold and ragged as he roots his nose into the slant of your shoulder, ingesting your earthy aroma and the blood coursing like molten liquid through your veins.

“Darling,” Astarion croons, all teeth and tongue, whilst he nips at the notch of your shoulder. You suddenly feel the hot, lazy drag of a viscous fluid coasting down your arm—your blood. You hadn’t noticed the prick, too swept up in the delightful pressure building between your legs. “Gods, you’re delicious, aren’t you?” 

His voice reminds you of rolling thunder and cured leather. The notion, mixed with the blood loss, causes your exposed nipples to tighten against the frigid whisper of the breeze.

He clicks his tongue. “My sweet little treat. You are intoxicating.”

You moan in reply, wriggling in his grip. Try to clamp your legs shut. To bear down on his cock nestled deep within you, having been teased and stroked until the moon sat high between the stars—until you’ve nearly seen stars. 

But he won’t be having any of that.

He licks a wet stripe up the column of your throat, the puncture wounds slowly healing. It’s positively maddening and obscene, and you instinctively flex your pelvic muscles to feel him pulse within you. To feel him pressing further against that pleasant mesh of nerves buried deep within. Anything to relieve the infernal ache stewing in your belly.

“Oh no, no, no, my love,” Astarion scolds in the most doting tone. “The party’s just begun.” He notches his pelvis up against yours in warning, eliciting the sharpest yelp from betwixt your lips. “Look at you. You’re absolutely drenched. Taking me so well. Such a tight fit. It’s as if you were made for me.”

Your responding whimper makes something feral brew within Astarion’s chest. It takes every bit of him not to end this tortuous game and fuck you into the forest floor. After all, you’re quite a ways from camp with nothing but the rustle of the trees and symphony of the forest dwellers to accompany you. 

No one would hear you—not that he cares. 

He shushes you in that dulcet timbre, lazily rolling his hips to continue his torture. You blink sluggishly to dispel the bleariness nestling beneath your eyes. Saliva puddles in your cheeks. You’re teetering along the edge now, your resolve thrown to the wolves.

Sensing your plight, Astarion nips your shoulder to keep you conscious. Tugs on your arms. “Stay with me, my love. I know you can do it. Gods, I love the way you feel. My filthy little cock sleeve. I could stay like this forever, fuck me. You won’t come without my permission, yes?”

It’s more of a threat than it is a request. Regardless, you nod, your tongue lolling about in your mouth. Your eyes roll back, and the back of your head crashes into his shoulder. The stars above ebb in and out of focus. Streaks of curly white stain your vision before your lids shutter.

“Good, good girl,” Astarion husks, rewarding you with a few more shallow undulations of his hips. Languid like the drag of a tide. He chuckles, something dark and guttural, at how greedily you suck him in. How wet you are, your pussy squelching lewdly around him. “It will be a long night for you, my sweet, if you do not use your words. You’d do best to heed me. Do you understand?”

You’ve no choice but to comply. Not that you could deny him, your mind overhauled with only thoughts of your little star, filling you to the brim. 

You squeeze out a breathy “yes.” And it makes Astarion smirk into your skin. He’s gentle as he brands your neck and shoulder with slothful kisses. A complete contrast to the debauchery taking place in his lap. 

“So, so good for me. I adore it when you listen.”

Tears gather in your eyes. Your lips curve into a crazed smile. You’d give him the world in a handbasket if you could. But for now, you’ll settle for this. Sitting pretty in his lap, leaking around his cock, testing his restraint as much as he pushes yours. 

[cheonstapes]

geto suguru stars in... 'CHOKE ME OUT' (☆_@)

a/n ~ thinkin about when kenjaku was drooling as he choked himself...yeaaaaaaaa

summary; play fighting with your man leads to some...interesting discoveries.

wc; 700+

pairing; geto suguru x reader

cw; SMUT!!, m!masturbation, choking kink, switch!geto, switch!reader, thigh kink, cumplay, they tussle a lil, geto wants reader to suffocate him basically, nawt proofread - surprise!!

you knew your boyfriend was 100 times stronger than you, but that didn’t stop you from trying.

he always went easy on you anyway, he sees you as his delicate little princess - he doesn’t want to hurt you — but he still always won. that is what made you wanna take him down even more. you were standing on opposite sides of the room, circling each other all predator like. “c’mon baby, you scared?” fuck no. in fact, he didn’t know that you’d been training for this - you were gonna take. him. down.

 “shut up, ‘guru.” you murmured, dipping behind the couch as you crawled on the floor to sneak up on him. “huh? the fuck are you doing?” he couldn’t help but laugh at how serious you were taking this, standing with his hands on his hips as he looked around for you. ok, now he was a bit lost. it’s like you no clipped through the floor, he couldn’t see you at all. “baby? where’d you-“

you suddenly sprung up from behind, jumping on his back. he let out a little gasp, gripping your thighs as they wrapped around his waist. “what-!” both of you fell onto the couch, his body shuffling down to try and get out of your grip. his hands pushed and prodded your thighs, trying to pry them from around his neck but they wouldn’t budge. you tightened them, grabbing his wrist in your smaller hands to restrain him further. “looks like you’re in a bit of a predicament, babe. you gonna give up?” 

you knew you won, finally. his body relaxing slightly as he let out a small groan. snickering quietly as you let go of his wrist and peered over at his face. seeing him like that, was the last thing you expected. his face was flushed, eyes rolled back as drool slipped from his lips. the more you looked, the more desperate he got - his bulge fat and aching, twitching under the weight of your gaze. “fuck…stop- stop lookin’ at me like that.”

he’s never felt so turned on in his life. having his girl wrap her beautiful thighs around him, choking him out within a inch of his life was his biggest dreams — if he died in between your thighs, he would die a happy man. your smile was downright sinful as you realised what got your boyfriend so worked up - wrapping your legs even tighter around his thick neck. “oh-ho, you like this?” he nodded as best as he could, a hand slipping under his waistband to fish out his cock whilst the other roamed your thigh.

“harder, baby. need you to choke me with those sexy thighs of y’rs.�� his large hand worked his cock, lips coming down to bite your flesh, sucking little red marks along them. he couldn’t believe this was happening. he could practically taste your slick pouring outta your cunt, you clearly liked it as much as he did or else you wouldn’t be so fucking wet. “harder? god, you’re such a masochist.” 

his hips chased his fist like a madman, body trembling as he could feel himself getting lightheaded. the way you panted above him, your hips now starting to grind softly — searching for some kind of friction. you were just so cute, if he wasn’t about to pass out — he would eat you out like it was his last meal. “bout to cum, angel. s-shit, gonna bust ‘cause of your pretty fuckin’ thighs.”

his whines were so pretty. his hair tickled your skin as he writhed under you, veins in his hands bulging as he fucked his hand to completion. “fuuuck me! i love you, baby, so — so perfect f’r me.” thick ropes of gooey cum jetted out of his red tip, his thighs trembling and mouth salivating. the dopey grin he had when he looked at you melted your heart, and made your clit throb — you so badly wanted to suffocate him with your cunt till he was begged you to stop. he was too cocky for a guy who was just begging his girlfriend to choke him out.

he shuffled out of your grip as it loosened around his neck, raising a cum soaked hand in between your thighs — spreading his cum on the crotch of your panties.

“want me to choke you with my thighs now?”

“not a chance, suguru.”

-cmere ill let you choke me

[crystalflygeo]

Sinful voice pt.2 ft “Morax”/Prof!Zhongli + fem!reader (modern AU)

cw/tags: Voice kink, daddy kink, dirty talk, female masturbation, oral and fingering implied but like it's just fantasizing?? petnames (sweetheart, babygirl, dear) Reader is DOWN BAD LMAO and suffers second hand embarrasment.

notes: EVERYBODY SAY THANK YOU @localplaguenurse!!They gave me a F A N T A S T I C idea that just inspired me to continue this wip and ended up not even being featured here yet but HEY... future p3!! //winkwink. That said I did NOT expect how much this would blow up and how ppl loved it and wanted more, y'all gonna make me giddy and/or cry pls (consider checking some of my other stuff too mayhaps? <3) Anyway I REALLY hope this delivers bc boi am I afraid of not meeting expectations vcgvhjbnjnmklal

Weeks had passed since your ‘big discovery’ and you still weren’t quite sure what to do with this information.

At first you chalked it up to just your imagination because… there was no way, right? Your new professor could just have a… similar voice… yeah… that was it.

Except the more you listened to his long-winded explanations the more you picked up certain words and intonations here and there and you knew you were just fooling yourself.

A lot had happened in these last few weeks, from organizing your new living space, to meeting your roommates, to grocery shopping, classes, and you had even considered the idea of maybe getting a part time job somewhere close by. There were plenty of small shops and places around the college campus neighborhood that not only offered valuable services to poor college students but also the opportunity to make a bit of money to help them out.

It had all been rather exhausting and stressing, exams, essays and projects were already starting too…

Lying back in bed you sigh and roll over, feeling the familiar faint throb of desire pooling between your legs, one you’d never really managed to sate with a person so much as with fantasies. But tonight, as you lay awake in bed aching for your usual touch, you feel conflicted.

Ever since that very first day you just couldn’t bring yourself to open up Morax’s website again. Hell, a new month had rolled over and you’d dutifully paid the subscription along with your other usual bills.

Part of you was itching for it, curious, frustrated.

And very very horny.

Thing is, your fantasies had often featured a faceless man, strong, imposing and dominating, taking you like a blushing maiden and making you beg for the pleasure he’d give, allowing him to do anything he wanted with your heated body. Now that man had a face… your history professor Mr. Zhongli.

You used to get off to imaginings of Morax tying you up and having his way with you, teasing you, fucking you into the mattress and making you cum over and over. Now it was Mr. Zhongli. Polite and courteous Mr. Zhongli with his refined gestures and well-mannered demeanor.

You wanted to cum, to reach that high and come undone and let out all the pent-up stress and frustration until you melted into a puddle and didn’t have to think about classes or money or life anymore, but the second your fingers began to rub at your clit, Mr. Zhongli’s voice would hit you with that even tone he used when scolding someone for gossiping during his lecture.

“Disgraceful behavior…”

A hot flash of shame burned at your face but for whatever reason it just turned you on more. You wanted to get fucked so bad you felt like you were going insane. You wanted that man to pin you up against a wall and thrust inside you until you turned into an incoherent moaning mess. You wanted to get bent over at his desk and filled up with cum until you were left gaping and oozing and told what a good girl you are. You wanted to get fucked on your hands and knees squirming and crying from overstimulation.

Lying in bed, you squeezed a pillow against your face and screamed.

You wanted to fuck your handsome history professor Mr. Zhongli.

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

It’s barely first period and you couldn’t concentrate.

You were sleepy, hungry and overall, in a bad mood. Standing in line at the cafeteria for a much-needed morning coffee and some snack you yawn and browse around your phone. Math. Gods you hated math.

At least you didn’t have history today. That was a whole other can of worms.

You figured you’d eventually have to get over it but it was just… so bizarre. Mr. Zhongli was quite the popular teacher, you’d learned. Extremely knowledgeable in various topics, a strict but kind and just teacher and good looking on top of all.

No wonder the upperclassmen flocked around him, probably half the campus lowkey had a crush on him, male and female students alike. It was genuinely a miracle he was not married or even had a significant other apparently.

And he was also Morax. Sensual dominating Morax who would just not leave your head-

“Good morning, how may I help you?” The cashier called out cheerfully and you pulled out of your thoughts.

“Morn-”

“Good morning.”

You gasp so sharply you almost launch into a coughing fit; your eyes widen and whole body tenses and oh shit-

Somehow you manage to trip and fall in the clumsiest, stupidest way possible.

“Woah-!”

“Miss?!”

Except you don’t actually fall, but someone manages to hold you, a hand grabbing your arm and the other pressed against your back steadying you as your poor brain goes into overdrive.

That voice!

It’s him!

Too close!

What is he doing here?!

Way too close!!

The seconds it takes for you to react feel like ages as you stare up at Mr. Zhongli like a deer caught in the headlights.

His hands are warm…

His cologne smells soooo good.

His eyes are gorgeous!

He’s so hot!!

“Are you alright Miss l/n?”

“I’M FINE! I-I’m fine!” You yelp, way louder than intended (or normal) and quickly scoot back to put some distance between yourself and the handsome professor. He picks up his dropped bag and dusts it a little, as well as his clothes, still pristine as ever. “I… think I got a little dizzy s-sorry I haven’t eaten yet and… yeah…” You chuckle nervously.

You see him frown slightly. “Going without food for long periods of time can be quite dangerous.” He states, obviously concerned. “Maybe you should head to the infirmary see Dr Baizhu, you look quite pale and the dizziness could be a symptom of low blood pressure. Do you have anything sugary to eat or drink?”

“I w-was about to buy something…”

“It might be best for you to sit down for the moment.” He nods, resolute. “Allow me.”

…And that’s how you end up sitting at one of the nearby small tables with a little glazed donut and a bottle of water, courtesy of your dear history professor.

You stare at the little treat in your hands, half eaten already as he insisted, at least your hands stopped shaking and some color returned to your face. Mr. Zhongli seemed content enough, sitting across from you.

“T-Thank you.” You mumble, refusing to meet his gaze. “How much was it? I’ll pay you back I have som-”

He sees you rummaging through you bag and raises a hand. “None of that, you needed it. I’m glad to see you’re looking a little better, please take care of yourself, health is very important.”

“Um, ok.”

Then he smiles, and it’s gentle, soft. “You’re Miss l/n, right? One of the new students from my history class?”

Huh?   

“You didn’t do very well on the essay assignment…”

Ack. You sigh and take another bite of the small donut. “History is just… not my strong suit. Too many dates and names to remember.”

He chuckles and oh God who gave him the right to make that sound? Your skin tingles.

“Fair enough. I know my classes can be a little daunting, I’m very particular about certain topics and tend to ramble sometimes. But I can tell you really put effort into classes and pay attention to my lectures.” He looks pensive for a moment. “Let me propose something. I usually impart some private tutoring sessions to students on more advanced levels, but I could make an exception for you. If you have time available it could help lift your grades.”

You stare up at him in surprise, grateful to not have a mouthful of donut or you would have probably choked again like an idiot. Did you hear that right? A private tutoring session after hours at his office?!

Now that sounded like a title for one of Morax’s audios: Hot professor bangs his stu-NOPE.    

“I-I’ll think about it! Sure.”

He nods and gets up, sparing a glance at his watch. “I have to leave now, please do consider it. And do try to eat at more regular intervals and take better care of yourself, you look quite tired.”

A polite way of saying you had marked eyebags, yep.

“I’ll try.” You mumble. Suddenly a little sad to see him go. “Professor… thank you.”

There’s that smile again, you could melt. “You’re welcome, my dear.”

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

And yet that night, you’re once again rolling in bed unable to sleep.

My dear.

You couldn’t stop thinking on the whole incident, you’d certainly made a fool of yourself but the memory of his strong arms holding you, touch firm but gentle. The scent of his cologne that you wish had clung more on your clothes.

You really were down bad, this is ridiculous…

You bite your lip.

You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t.

Oh but you will, just one wouldn’t hurt.

Quite the opposite actually…

Unable to contain yourself (or your horniness) you take no time to pop in your earbuds and start scrolling. Hmm… there had been a couple new additions in these last weeks.

You can’t help but wonder why he does these. When. How. You never really considered or thought on it before, Morax has quite a lot of patrons (not a surprise) and thought you know nothing about sound and video recording or editing technically he’s making money just by using that honeyed velvet voice of his. That had to bring in some cash, right?

But then again, if you knew anything about these types of subscriptions it was that they required constancy and that meant hard work and dedication. Did he enjoy these? He really puts in the effort given the amazing quality…

You can’t help but picture your handsome professor unwinding a little after a long day, casual clothes, a cup of that tea he loves and setting up to record those dirty words and sinful moans.

Did he sometimes get worked up about these too? Did he also touch himself during or after recording a particular scenario? Sitting back slightly sprawled on the chair, brow slightly furrowed, stroking his co-   

Aaahhhh you needed to stop thinking on him.

…

Yeah right.

“Daddy eats you out and prepares you for his big cock.”

Well, this looks promising.   

The audio starts like many others, with some dialogue from him and setting the scene and oh… you had kind of missed the playful teasing tilt of Morax’s voice. You can’t help but chuckle lightly, this scene is so domestic. He calls you “sweetheart”, “babygirl” and there are the kissy noises.

You wish you could kiss him…

“Hmmm… daddy’s gonna get you nice and ready. Spread your legs for me.” Oh, you certainly do. “Daddy’s gonna get down here between them.”

You rub at your tights slowly, sensual, remembering his larger hands.

“Oh your little pussy is already so wet and swollen.” Morax coos, voice soft and airy. “You think it’s already ready I know.” He chuckles. “But you know daddy’s cock is big, yeah, your little pussy’s gonna need to stretch a little bit hm?” A kiss.

You whine.

“Shhh daddy’s gonna make you feel so good sweetheart.”

Lewd wet noises invade your ears and you waste no time starting to stroke yourself, slow and tender. He groans and sighs and you whimper, hips jolting from the bed.

Gods how was he so…

“Yeah… nice and gentle hmm, we’re gonna have so much fun.”

His words were a complete 180 from the long lectures about politics and wars, and yet, his voice…

“D-Daddy…” You sigh. “Please!”

“Oh I love how sensitive your little clit is… you like that babygirl?”

You rub and stroke at the little bundle of nerves and see stars already.

You were so pent up, so needy. Your orgasm was already building too quickly, mewling and whining at his words, his noises, trying to match the pace and follow his instructions.

“That’s a good girl.”

“F-Fuck-”

Your eyebrows furrow, your body trembles and you bit your lip to contain your noises. Morax warns you when he adds a finger, and after a few seconds another, chuckling low at how you clench, praising you, coaxing out your pleasure.

You can only picture him at the end of the bed, licking and sucking obscenely at your juices, pumping those slender fingers in and out, in and out…

That tantalizing voice teasing you, your fingers knotting that dark brown hair tipped amber, golden eyes staring up at you half-lidded but feral and fascinated. Focusing on you. Only you.

“A-Ah! Mhmm…”

“Now I want you to cum babygirl come on, in five… four…”

You stroke and pump faster, frantic, lost in that rapidly approaching high.

“Three… two…”   

You cry out, a spark cursing through your veins.

“One… hmmm that’s it my dear.”

“Z-Zhongli…!”

He ushers you out of your release with soft words before saying something else, but your mind is floating and hazy. Your take off the earbuds and place them away catching your breath for a moment, arm draped over your face, the audio still has a long way to go but you’re drowsy and sleepy so you decide to call it a night.

It is only a little later, once you’re done with a quick cleaning and putting everything away, curled up under the covers and dozing off that you realize…

Shit.

You’d called not for Morax but Zhongli.

[dangermousie]

Watching BE made me think of Flower of Evil, hands down my favorite kdrama of the last 5 years.

I almost didn't check it out despite being a rabid Lee Jun Ki and Moon Chae Won fangirl because the set up of "police woman wife begins to suspect her seemingly perfect husband is a serial killer and a cat and mouse game begins" was not at all my thing - like it was either gonna be a woman in peril story or a cat and mouse between a killer and cop and neither is my thing at all. Why cast actors so known for their on-screen chemistry and emotional chops in this wondered I.

I checked it out expecting nothing and GOD IT OWNED ME BODY AND SOUL

Watching it unspoiled as it aired was a wild wild wild experience and I totally understand why the promos didn't tell more than they did even if it was misleading as hell about the ultimate story because it really placed the viewer in the position of Ji Won (and her gradual discovery of who her husband really is) AND Hyun Soo/Hee Sung who himself genuinely didn't even know what type of person he was either thanks to all the trauma and fucking with he had; and even the whole "well he acts off, he has to be shady and/or a killer" vibe of the initial narrative was a great choice because it really went into "well, you see why the world thinks he's like that; you did too" - it made you a culpable bystander of sorts - like you wouldn't have been any different than all the suspicious people if you were in the story.

Going from "well, he def acts like psychopath/serial killer" to "but a bunch of things don't really seem to fit into that paradigm, ummm" to "he fucking did nothing wrong ever other than being traumatized and possibly not neurotypical leave him the fuck alone" was a TRIP!

Also, God they are one of my fave drama OTPs of all time.

[runninriot]

written for @steddieangstyaugust day 5

To Be Me

prompt: Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What i Want | rated: M | wc: 2568 | cw: bad coping mechanisms (mentioned, drinking and sex with strangers) | tags: daddy issues, Steve Harrington is a Mess, self-discovery, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending | complete fic on ao3

Steve Harrington has everything.

At least that's what people think when they look at his life from the outside. When all they see is his last name and the money that comes with it.

It’s easy to think that he’s always been one of the lucky few when they remember him from high school where he was king. Where every girl turned her head when he walked past them and gave head when he asked for it.

So easy to mistake his expensive car and fancy clothes for signs of a life without worries because with money comes power and with power comes inviolability, right?

People think he's got it all, is even fortunate to have the looks to go with the rest – pretty rich boy, ladies' man, go-getter.

He can't blame them for misjudging him, for having opinions about him. And he knows they’re talking behind his back, call him daddy’s pride or daddy’s boy, because it’s no secret how he got to the top of the firm without having the necessary skills nor the ambition.

Steve doesn’t mind, it’s the truth. But sometimes he wishes he could make them see what lies beneath the surface.

Because if there’s something he’s most definitely not, it’s his father’s pride.

If anything, his father would rather have no son than the pathetic waste of skin he unfortunately was cursed with as an heir to the Harrington empire.

Steve is a failure in his father’s eyes, a fuck-up that barely made it out of high school and wouldn’t have gotten into college without his father’s name.

He never lived up to his father’s expectations, no matter how hard he tried to be a version of himself that could be respected by him.

The parties, the girls, the preppy clothes – it all belonged to the part he played to please his dear old dad. To no avail.

He was never good enough.

Not when he was 8 and politely said thank you for the toy car he got for his birthday when really, he wanted a doll.

Not when he was 12 and worked hard at basketball practice when secretly, he watched in awe when the cheerleading squad did their flips and jumps.

Not when he was 16 and sat quietly through business dinners with his father’s associates, when all he wanted was to scream.

Steve tried so hard all his life to play by his father’s rules, tried to make it seem like he was who he’s supposed to be, renouncing his true self. Always acting, pretending to be something he wasn’t, isn’t.

Now, at 23, Steve doesn’t know who he is anymore. He feels empty, burned out, sick of this pretentious life and his minuscule existence. So, he tries to escape, finds solace in drinking and purpose in giving his body up to nameless faces with warm mouths and greedy hands for a few moments of pleasure.

It’s all he has, all that keeps him going.

continue reading here

[lady-october]

Pairing : Oli Sykes x Female Assistant Genre : Romance, Smut (18+ Only) Future Chapters : Available on Ao3

Story Content : Smut, Drama, Choking, Power dynamics, Romance, Rough sex, Sadism/Masochism, Dom/Sub, Mentions of addiction & self harm, Degradation, Praise kink, Exhibitionism, Orgasm denial, Breath play, Dirty talk.

Summary :

“Don’t you see what a dangerous game you’re playing? Why did you have to look so fucking delicious tonight, I couldn’t stop undressing you in my mind, thinking of all the twisted things I want to do to you.” She had only worked on the touring team for three weeks, but her mind had been hijacked by dirty thoughts of a man she barely even talked to. Sure, he was very attractive, but were there other reasons she was so uncontrollably drawn to him? This is a filthy story of pain, self discovery, and love.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Chapter 1: Your eyes are swallowing me

Chapter title is lyrics from "Sleepwalking"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I'd be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed him. 

So maybe I did take a little longer to get ready when I knew he'd be around; maybe my skirt was suddenly pulled up just that little bit higher than usual; maybe I loosened a button or two, but it's not like I was delusional enough to believe I ever had a shot with the man.

I was just an assistant. 

I did the menial tasks that usually went unnoticed. But sometimes when I came back with food he'd flash me the most wicked smile as he took it off me.

"Ta, love", and a shiver would run through my body.

It was the night after a big set in London, an apartment style hotel room had been booked for the whole band with a shared common space. The place had clearly been picked as a bit of a party accommodation to celebrate the tour. It was quite posh, lavish furniture, open planning, and a great view. All the things you'd expect of an expensive hotel. 

Everyone had gotten a bit too drunk tonight, and it was part of my job to make sure they got to bed to catch a flight tomorrow, so I was the only sober one here. 

It was also my job to make sure the alcohol kept flowing, the right guests were let in, and taxis were ordered. 

Despite how busy I was, I kept catching myself staring at him. I couldn't help myself, he was always such a delightful mess after a concert; dishevelled hair, smeared eyeliner, a bit sweaty – a wonderful mix of tired and happy. Essentially he always came off the stage looking like he'd just finished having some really good sex.

I shook my head, realising I'd been staring again.

Hopefully he hadn’t noticed.

The night went by in a blur of busy tasks. Suddenly it was four in the morning, I had just finished getting everyone to bed and all the guests out of there. I sighed deeply at the state of the place and began the daunting task of cleaning up. 

That's when I saw him across the room.

The lights were dimmed low as I’d been strategically turning them off throughout the night in the hopes that it would make everyone sleepier, so I was only able to make out the silhouette of a man.

He was sprawled on the sofa, legs spread and leaned back, but I could tell it was Oli – his long, fluffy hair is unmistakable.

"Oh fuck, Oli you scared the living shit out of me."

That was probably the longest sentence I'd ever dared say to him, as I was usually too flustered to form proper sentences, but the sheer exhaustion from the night and the adrenaline from surprise got the better of me.

I heard a laugh from the dark figure on the sofa, "Sorry love I didn't mean to scare you, but I'm not ready to sleep just yet." You could hear the words had been spoken with a lazy smile.

Suddenly I was very aware of the fact that we were all alone, and he sounded... 

No, I didn’t even dare think it.

He's just tired and drunk, surely that's the only reason he sounds so...

"R-right. Just remember we've got a flight tomorrow."

I could see his head tilt to the side as he contemplated what I’d said, but he clearly decided he didn't give a fuck, as his response came unbothered, completely ignoring my comment, "Get me another drink will you?"

Suddenly the walls felt as if they were closing in. I was nervous to say the least. I had never been alone with him before, and for some reason it felt weirdly intimate despite him being all the way across the room.

I didn't know how to respond beyond simply following his order, so I shakily turned around and walked over to the dining room table where all the drink bottles were lined up, while being entirely too aware of his gaze on me from behind. 

There was a rustle of fabric like he’d gotten off the sofa, followed shortly by the sound of his footsteps behind me by the table. 

I didn't get a chance to properly digest what was happening before his hands were firmly gripping my hips, making me gasp, the impact almost making me fall forward. Instead I instinctively braced myself against the table, nearly knocking over the half empty liquor bottles there.

My heart began racing, threatening to jump out of my chest, as I felt his hard cock clearly through the fabrics between us, pressing against my ass as I was pinned to the table. His hand quickly moved to my throat to prevent me from falling forwards further, as if he didn’t want me bent over, using it to guide my head close to his.

I was surrounded by him.

His scent, his hair falling into my view, his lips against my ear, his breath against my cheek, the hand on my throat possessive and firm. I was contorted, pinned painfully between the table and his warm body behind me as I was being held up by his grip.

His lips parted gently against my ear, and spoke in a tone I can only describe as carnal, "I get lonely you see, and I've noticed you noticing me. You want me, yeah?”

He had noticed after all.

I swallowed, hard.

“Will you nod for me love if you want me."

My heartbeat promptly moved between my legs.

I do want him – oh god do I want him. My whole body felt like it was on fire.

But his request was so much more than a search for knowledge of whether I wanted him or not, it was an inquiry of approval, a probing of whether I’d allow this to happen, or if we part ways here before anything further happens.

I nodded against his hand around my throat, causing his breath to speed up.

His lips spread into a smile against my ear, "Let’s have some fun then."

I was wearing a simple, strappy, mini dress so his hair fell onto my bare shoulders as he kissed my neck, his warm breath fanned my skin. My eyes shut from the delightful sensations, and I began mindlessly moving my hips against him, causing his grip on me to tighten.

"Ah, you like that don't you?"

I nodded again, probably a bit too eagerly. 

He chuckled, which I felt as a puff of warm air against my neck more than heard. His mouth returns to my ear, speaking lazily like a predator toying with its prey, "You're so fucking desperate for me, aren't ya?" 

My eyes flew open. I nodded again, slower this time, feeling exposed.

The truth is that I am desperate; desperate enough daydream about him constantly, to touch myself at night when I was all alone, imagining all ways I want to be fucked by him. In fact, I’d grown quite attached to using all my perverted thoughts about the man as a distraction from my life, from everything I’ve been through lately.

From pain.

"I bet you're soaking, I bet you have been all night." His grip on my hip relaxed, turning into a caress, moving towards the hem of my dress, lifting it slightly as his fingers trailed closer to my pussy. 

His voice darkened and intensified, "I reckon you've ruined your underwear just being near me." 

Then his hand finally reached my pooling wetness and my body immediately went electric, my knees buckled and my mouth fell open with a gasping, desperate moan as my hands mindlessly grabbed at his strong arm holding my throat to steady myself.

The hand that had just caused my brain to short circuit from a simple touch to my core, quickly retracted away to yank me back up from slumping over. 

"Sh, sh, sh, you're gonna have to be quiet or you're gonna wake the lads, can’t have that, can we?" He whispered playfully.

I just wanted him back between my legs, so I spoke, in such a desperate tone that I surprised myself, "I–I'm sorry, p--please, please don't stop."

His grip on me loosened to pull the skirt of my dress up to my waist, and slide my underwear down. I felt them pop over my ass before falling to my ankles on the floor. 

"We don't need these anymore." He muttered behind me as he returned to feel my pussy, this time without the soaking fabric stopping him. I felt his forehead on my shoulder as he moved along my folds with intent, his breath coming faster.

"To be honest with you love, I'm pretty fucking desperate too." Then he pushed two fingers into me and I was suddenly fighting for dear life not to moan. 

I gripped the table again to stay upright, willing my body to behave. The last thing I wanted was for him to stop.

His mouth replaced his forehead on my shoulder, kissing me with parted lips, biting slightly every so often, his hips pushed back into mine, causing me to feel his cock against my ass again – now only his fabrics between us.

I felt untethered, like I’d been transported somewhere else, into some wild fantasy; this couldn't possibly be happening. 

I turned my head slightly, searching, wanting to kiss him. His mouth moved to my neck, then my ear, then my cheek, leaving breathy kisses and bites where he wanted to.

Right when I thought he was going to turn me around to kiss him, he removed the fingers and placed the now soaking hand firmly on the back of my neck, pushing me forward. I gasped in surprise and disappointment at the hand once again disappearing from my pussy, but the grip was strong and I could only obey. I pushed the bottles in front of me forward as I was bent over so they wouldn't be knocked over. 

The shock of the sudden movements brought me back to reality and I started blushing. I was currently bent over a table, bare ass and pussy exposed to Oli Sykes, in the middle of a shared common room where any of the band mates could walk in at any point. This was insane.

But I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

"Fuck." he said under his breath behind me, "You're a vision…" Then I heard more fabric rustling, and suddenly something a lot warmer and bigger was at my entrance. 

How was I supposed to not moan? How was I supposed to not… 

And then he started pushing into me. 

I bit down on my lip so hard it would probably bruise, clawing at the table. A low moan came from behind me as he pushed deeper, to the hilt. He stopped there for a moment and leaned over me; I could feel his heat, the rising and falling of his chest, his laboured breathing against me, his soaking hand still possessively on the back of my neck. 

"You're doing great love, stay just like that, don't make a sound, yeah?" He whispered close to my ear.

That's when he started pumping, and I once again was transported to some other reality. I couldn't help it, I was moving, I felt wild, I wanted to scream, and suddenly I’d lost control again and another moan escaped my lips.

As soon as I did he stopped, his hand that had been pinning me to the table wrapped around my neck, leaving all the flesh there wet with my own juices, before pulling me back up against him.

His lips were back at my ear, hair back in my vision. “What a shame, you were doing so well for me.”

He pulled away and I felt him slip out of me, causing a pang of sadness to wash over me, thinking it's over, but in the same motion he turned me around, grabbing me by the hips to sit me on the table before him. He spread my legs to step between them, before our eyes met.

And suddenly it felt as if time stopped.

He is gorgeous. 

Dishevelled hair falling haphazardly around his face, lips slightly parted, the tattoos creeping up his neck, framing his face. His eyes were shining bright in the dim light, glassy but still intense. There was so much hunger in them, yet so much sadness.

The words slipped out of me without a thought, barely a whisper, “...Are you ok?”

His brows furrowed slightly as he searched my face, clearly not quite sure how to respond, like I'd thrown him off. You could tell he was intoxicated, as I don't think he'd be this honest with me, essentially a stranger, in a sober state – nor this forward. 

He spoke softly, “Tonight I wanted to throw everything away, just say fuck it; does anything really matter? I'm supposed to have my fucking shit together, yet all I want to do–” He looked away, shaking his head as he cut himself off. 

Silence filled the air around us for a long moment as he was lost in thought, then suddenly his eyes shot back to mine, speaking slowly, thoughtfully, “I've had my eye on you all night, and you look just as wrapped up in temptation as I feel. I just need an escape and I have a feeling you do too, don't you?”

His vagueness didn't matter, I knew what he was talking about, and I felt it too; the relentless pressure of life was crushing and there was a reason I couldn't keep my eyes off of him, why I wanted him so badly. Everyone could see there's something tortured about Oli, something passionate and wild that could barely be contained. 

And while I didn’t like to acknowledge it, I could relate. I also wanted to just let go, be free. Whatever that meant.

And I wanted to go there with him.

I reached out to touch his face, he flinched at the intimate gesture but didn't resist.

My mouth opened to speak, but I couldn’t find the words so I just nodded instead.

His expression softened and he nodded in return; a silent understanding that neither of us fully knew why the other needed this, but it didn’t matter. We didn’t need to know the intimate details about each other's pain to know we’re both desperate for some relief.

His eyes fell to my lips, “I just want to lose myself in you for a little while...”

Lose myself. 

Yes that’s it – a nice little escape from it all. I could feel a sombre smile spread across my lips. With the caress on his cheek I tried to guide him into a kiss, but instead he moved to my neck, tasting my juices still lingering there. 

He made a low rumbling noise in his chest then moved back to my ear, “You taste so sweet, love. Now, let's see if we can keep you quiet for this next bit.”

Pulling away he met my gaze again, this time with a faint devilish smile playing on his lips as he placed his hand over my mouth to encourage me to remain silent.

I didn’t resist, I wanted nothing more than to feel him inside me again.

It hit me that I am not sure exactly where my limits were, as long as he just continued using me.

Using me. 

That’s what it was, that’s what I craved.

I just want him to use me.

While this was news to me, I didn't want to think about this revelation now. The last thing I wanted to do right now was psychoanalyse myself. Thankfully I didn’t have to try very hard to shake the thought off, because Oli pulled me right back to the moment as his less busy hand slipped between us, guiding his cock back to me.

“I'll take things a bit slower at first, yeah? And you will stay quiet this time.” 

He was nodding his head while holding my gaze steadily, clearly expecting me to nod back in return.

So I did, looking nervous as I didn’t fully trust myself.

“Fuck, don't make that face love, I just want to start pounding to watch you struggle.”

Despite his last words, he entered me slowly. His eyes darken as he pulled me closer to him. Then he was moving inside me, that wicked smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his gaze lazily roamed me. When his eyes came back to meet mine I could see something wild flicker behind them, like a promise of things to come.

Yes.

He was moving faster, testing me to see if I could keep quiet. My nails were digging into his shoulders to retain control, but I was doing it, only the slightest of noises escaped me.

“That's it, just like that.”

He looked at the hand covering my mouth, the tip of his tongue playing against his teeth. The grip loosened and two fingers pushed playfully into my mouth, his breath catching at the sight, appearing positively feral. His movements stopped for a moment, before he thrust into me, hard, his smile turning into a more serious expression, as if he was at some type of breaking point.

As if he was really sick of containing himself.

“Fuck it.” He said in a deep tone before removing the fingers that had been feeling my tongue, replace them with his lips. His arms wrapped around me, kissing me deeply, moaning into my mouth as he began thrusting harder.

Our hands are everywhere, grabbing, pulling, pushing, clawing.

I felt fingers slip into my hair to yank my head back in order to bite my neck, and I couldn't help it, I whimpered in response.

But he didn't care, if anything it spurred him on.

After a moment he pulled away to push me down on the table once more, this time facing him.

I looked up at him; he looked dangerous, unleashed, almost animalistic. His hair was everywhere, his mouth was open, panting heavily, and I could barely see his eyes. The energy was infectious, I was smothered in it as I writhe on the table.

Yes, this is it. This is what I need.

He pulled the top of my dress and bra down in one swift and painful motion, his hand gripping my throat agonisingly hard.

Hard enough for normal breaths to become difficult.

A rush of adrenaline washes over me, a confusing yet delightful mix of fear and arousal. He must have noticed, as his grip on my neck loosened slightly, letting me know he was still in there somewhere, despite appearing almost possessed. 

With that knowledge I let go. 

I clawed at him, wrapped my legs around him. He was so warm and solid, and I felt as if I was drowning in it; in him. Our movements became a blur of pain and pleasure. 

Somewhere in the distance I heard glass bottles clanging, then one after another fell to the floor. 

Again, he didn’t care. 

The world had fallen away and it was only us and our ecstasy here.

His head lowered as his movements came slower, with more intent. In a deep, nearly unrecognisable voice he murmurs, “I'm close.”

Another rush of emotions washed over me. 

A certainty, an almost primal need. I spoke my wishes through clenched teeth in a strangled and desperate tone, “Cum in me.”

His grip on me tightens further, this time constricting my breathing entirely. He falls forward on top of me, burying his face in the crook of my neck next to the vice grip he held on my throat. My fingers dig into his hair, pulling him closer. His breath became ragged as I felt him filling me up with every thrust. 

After a moment I hear some of it drip onto the floor beneath us.

The grip on my neck loosened and I inhaled sharply.

We lay like this for a minute before coming back to reality, letting our heart rates slow down.

I was bewildered, yet amazed. 

What had just happened? I felt like I’d unlocked a whole new part of myself, a longing that I didn’t quite understand yet, something simmering under the surface for what felt like years. 

Something in me craved the danger, the fear, the pain, to be used. Like there was some depraved form of freedom in giving my body and mind to someone and letting them have their way with me. And not to mention; how can something make me feel this incredibly good, without having even reached orgasm from it?

In all the confusion, one thing felt completely unwavering;

I wanted more.

Thoughts were swimming around in my head when a gentle caress grazed my throat. It was a sweet gesture, the polar opposite of the aggression I’d just experienced during our shared bliss. My brows furrowed in confusion for a moment before he raised himself up, our faces only inches apart. I studied his expression, he appeared worried – questioning.

A soft, almost boyish voice spoke, “Are you alright?”

Such simple words, but the question wasn’t. 

I could tell he wanted to know if I felt unsafe, if I was in pain, and if what transpired between us had crossed a line. If he had crossed a line.

My face blooms into a tired smile, “Yes. I’m a bit confused, but I’m good.”

His expression softened some but not fully, and he started searching my neck and chest for any signs of injury, but I grabbed his hands to stop him. 

“Really, I’m okay. I didn’t know I could feel like this. I-I don’t fully understand it…“ I paused to try and find the words, “Tonight you’ve done more for me than I could–” 

He cuts me off with a kiss, much more tender than our previous ones. After a moment he pulls away to speak, “Oh love, you have no idea.”

I continued smiling, I couldn’t stop, and his features mimicked mine. 

My words came sheepishly, “Maybe we could do this again?” 

Right as I finished speaking another audible drop of cum was heard hitting the floor beneath us. We both exhale a small laugh – an acknowledgement of how bizarre the situation was.

He brushed some hair away from my face, “How about we have a little chat tomorrow, yeah? When we’re both a bit more clear headed.”

I couldn’t tell if he just wanted a way out, or if he wanted to make sure I was really okay with what had happened tonight. So I just nodded.

“Alright, let’s get you sorted then shall we?” He helped me into a sitting position and attempted to adjust my clothes a bit, as if I wasn’t the picture of freshly fucked; one of my dress straps had torn, my hair was completely messed up, with equally messy makeup, and of course – literally dripping cum. 

I had to stifle another laugh.

He pulled away, adjusting his own clothes, and shot me one last smile before slipping back to his room.

I sat there for some time, taking in the mess all around me. Almost all the bottles were on the floor, with one of them having shattered. 

How had I not noticed? 

There wasn’t a chance everyone in the band hadn’t heard us. 

This will be awkward tomorrow.

... Continue reading on Ao3

[theharmonious13]

Body Discovery 4

Before I accidentally spoiled myself of this happening I REALLY thought it would be only one because of diverting the Danganronpa norm. I DON'T KNOW WHO IT WILL BE AND I'M SCARED.

They took advantage of the Woodshop being banned so the body would be found later than expected... gdi

THEY KILLED TSUNO AS SHE ENTERED!? WTF WTF WTF WTF

They HAVE TO HAVE BEEN KILLED THE SAME WAY

I AM PERSONALLY MURDERING OKAZAKI REGARDLESS OF THE RESULTS AND THE POTENTIAL SECOND PERSON WHO SET UP THIS FUCKERY

If ANYONE blames Wada for this I'M COMING FOR THEM TOO

256 - Double Homicide

Everyone is freaking out I AM TOO

Wada is LOSING IT AND I AM SO SAD FOR BOTH HIM AND HASEGAWA

Both of those are more like background characters... am devastated they killed off the prominent fan favourite characters, MY FAVOURITE CHARACTERS

Wada's turn to tell everyone to shut up 😭

Them not being able to investigate because of fear of traps is fucked

Okazaki is quick to dismiss that it could be the same murderer, I know this is too obvious a blackened but I AM PRAYING WITH ALL MY SOUL ITS HER AND SHE GETS EXECUTED JUST AS BRUTALLY

257 - Midnight Metropolis Double Murder: Body

Poor Wada has Tsuno's blood on his face...

Big Stakes...

Mai's outburst about two people dying after Shigeki mentions that she's acting weird today...

258 - Midnight Metropolis Double Murder: Woodshop

Even though we all saw it coming I don't like how they're accusing Wada just because of the saw and the note

Wada angst LET'S GO

Hiroaki was never grateful for anything Tsuno did... I like this take from Wada's perspective even though we know it's incorrect

Hiroaki forgot what he did to Wada, DUDE- 💀

Wada has lost two people now/same with Hama, they're both like Himiko from V3 😭

259 - Midnight Metropolis Double Murder: Computer Lab

I know we have to see them have scenes but OKAZAKI GET TF OUT OF HERE

WADA going off at Okazaki YES PLEASE

Wada's voice actor POPPING OFF

I'm so relieved Wada is finally standing up for himself... I just wish he could've done it while Tsuno was alive, she'd be so proud of him

What does Wada have? Either way 'none of your business' being snapped at Okazaki after everything she's done is well deserved

Investigating in pairs after all this petty Tamba bullshit? Okazaki get tf out

DON'T BE AMUSED THAT WADA IS STANDING WHERE HIS BLOODSTAIN IS, YOU'RE FUCKED UP IN THE HEAD OKAZAKI

Have some manners!? Excuse me!? Okazaki... I don't get why people are fans of her, especially after this (I half understood in the previous chapters but this is just 💀)

Wada hit her and blood's back on his face!?

He stabbed her? Oh my god Okazaki is playing 4D chess with Wada and REALLY fucking him up I am NOT HAPPY ABOUT THIS

Wada is mentally DESTROYED

I'm glad Wada is going to be talking to Hayashi but my god I PRAY she takes his side

I know stabbing someone like that is very immoral but I don't care, my hatred for Okazaki is stronger 😭

My heart can't take much more of this torture 😩

260 - Midnight Metropolis Double Murder: Art Room

Lupitol! 😂

Hama reassuring Watari while she panics is my everything ♥️

261 - Reset Position

'I got a little bit stabbed' Funny as hell but why is Okazaki being so calm 😭

MAI IS PISSED AS HELL, YES MAI, GO FOR OKAZAKI'S THROAT

Okazaki getting picked up menacingly is worth it for now

Does Okazaki have Kamimura's tongue as a momento in her coat or something? Because THAT would be fucked up

The fandom pointing out that Tamba was very adamant about not going to the Woodshop is concerning... but we all know by now who I think the killer is regardless of the facts presented before us 😅

All I'm saying is if Okazaki only killed Tsuno to fuck with Wada because she knew she could get away with it I WILL BE VERY FILLED WITH HATRED

I can't wait to watch the trial, I need as many details, answers and justice as I can get about this case

[stormyweaver]

First Time For Everything || (Part 2/??)

NOTES: I'll add the title to my first part posted here, but I'm just so dang giddy to finally get chapter two up! No idea when I'll have the next part finished (I'm still figuring out where I wanna go with this little story) but I hope you enjoy this next installment!

TW: mess, brief mention of gore and potential contagion towards the end

“Hhhh? Ehh- hHEH!...” 

Vox’s frantic inhales stalled on the apex and, once again, the urge to sneeze fizzled out into a frustrated - and frankly exhausted exhale. 

It had been like this ever since he’d first started sneezing. He’d repeated the action a few more times on his walk with Alastor, and each one had been as equally full-bodied as the one preceding it. His torso ached all over, especially his chest and neck, not to even mention how dizzy the intense outbursts left his head. Not long after the sixth sneeze did Vox begin to try and actually stop what felt like an inevitable reaction, which had worked… somewhat. He’d managed to swallow down the urge enough to stop himself from performing the act of sneezing, but he’d done absolute jack-shit to stop himself from hitching and gasping like a fish flopping atop a sun-bleached deck. 

And every time he raised a hand to scrub - fruitlessly, might he add -at the center of his screen, Alastor’s amused snicker would cause his muscles to tense. His companion had no qualms about enjoying his palpable misery - he was probably soaking up the waves radiating off of him. Actually, he had no doubt that that was exactly what Alastor was doing. It seemed that the more Vox sniffled, coughed and groaned from his malady, the more Alastor appeared to perk up. Fucking energy vampire. 

As if speaking of the devil, Alastor released an inquisitive hum. “My my - I’m surprised you haven’t asphyxiated from all that gasping! Such a shame.” 

Cyan-tipped claws rose to press along the front of his throat, which he cleared several times in the hopes that it would somehow clear away the gunk lining his throat. At least enough for him to speak clearly. “I think you’d enjoy that a little too much.” 

Vox immediately winced after finishing his retort, and he could have sworn even Alastor appeared a bit surprised. He hadn’t done much… or any talking after the ‘discovery’ of his illness had taken place. Which in itself was odd but Vox had been too preoccupied sneezing or gearing up to a sneeze, or trying to stop sneezing to act as much of a conversationalist. 

However, he slightly regretted speaking now: his voice was downright awful, a raspy quality and his consonants were heavily muddled with congestion. That he had expected, but what really reinforced his sorry state was how it sounded as though he was speaking through a faulty speaker. Or an old timey radio…

The thought brought a small bit of amusement, but it was dashed when he realized that even Alastor somehow managed to sound good through shitty audio. He just sounded… well, sick. And broken. Vox scowled ahead. 

He would have kept walking had Alastor not whipped the length of his cane in front of him, causing Vox to flinch. “What’re–

“Ah, here we are!”

Brows furrowed, Vox finally looked up at the building they had stopped in front of. It appeared to be a diner of sorts. It wasn’t really all that distinguishable from other places he’d seen in Hell, besides having a more dated feel than some of the other areas in Pride Ring. But they were on the outskirts, near Cannibal Town, and after learning how frequently Alastor visited that particular area, it didn’t surprise him when they would wind up somewhere in the vicinity. 

The building’s exterior showed a few signs of age - chipped paint here and there, but otherwise it just looked older versus not having been taken care of. The brickwork was still in fairly good condition, besides some moss growing along the left lower corner. There were two baskets of flora hanging on each side of the entrance/exit, but they appeared slightly wilted - from either lack of care or by design, Vox couldn’t be sure. It had a small awning just above the doors, with the name Devil’s Diner in a scrawl that Vox found a little… well not tacky but, just not one he would have chosen for an eatery.

It struck Vox as a decent place overall, just from a different time period. Well kept, while a little tattered in seemingly all the right places. Yeah, now it made sense why Alastor wanted to go here. 

Once they were inside and seated, Vox groaned as he lowered himself down. He was thankful to just be off his feet, what with the long walk they had made just getting to this place. His head still felt like it was filled with a bag of wet sand, and his hearing was slightly obscured from a sudden, but dull ringing. 

“... and I don’t say this lightly, but the bread pudding is absolutely to die for, hah hah– Vox?” 

The sound of something tapping rather firmly onto the floor finally brought Vox out of his lethargy, just in time to see Alastor returning his cane to where-the-fuck-ever in a puff of crimson smoke. He then proceeded to lean so far forward in his seat that Vox was surprised he managed to avoid falling onto the table between them. “Dear me, you truly are unwell, aren’t you?” Vox attempted to mirror Alastor’s smile, though it fell short of being a perfect copy by a mile. “It’s probably just a twenty-four hour bug, nothing to worry about.” Though Alastor’s tone might have conveyed sympathetic to anyone else, Vox had a hunch it leaned more into the ‘Your misery is palpable and I’m loving every second of it’ territory. Actually, he was certain of it. Jesus Christ, had he really analyzed Alastor so much over their time together? Then again, it wasn’t as though he made it easy - it was that damned smile. 

It never left Alastor’s face, no matter what he was doing or saying, an unnerving fact he’d learned after watching him maim one soul so ignorant as to roughly shove past Alastor while muttering expletives under his breath. The same breath had soon begun begging for mercy before his guts were splayed all over the sidewalk. This had been early into their acquaintance-ship, and Vox still had shivers whenever they passed by the same spot. 

It wasn’t really the actual gore or violence, but the fact that Alastor had been grinning throughout the entire thing. As if he– no, he definitely did enjoy it. An “artform”, a term he’d heard the other use on more than one occasion. An artform. He’d never associated murder or even run-of-the-mill violence with “art”. Then again, there was nothing even remotely typical about the way Alastor operated. Not even a little. 

So occupied with his thoughts, he’d barely even noticed when their waiter arrived, giving a sharp start before attempting to appear more put-together than he felt. Alastor ordered first, thankfully; though the relief was short-lived, Alastor stated his choice as though he’d gotten the same combination hundreds of times. Which, in hindsight, was quite possibly the case. 

When the waiter - a one-eyed Hellian who resembled more of a blob than any even remotely human-form - turned to Vox, it suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t even taken a glance at the menu. He felt so exhausted, and the mere thought of food had his stomach gurgling. Apparently his digestive system was protesting the questionable eggs and toast, and the idea of piling something from a place he’d never eaten from or heard of before on top of that was out of the question. 

Regardless, he ordered a simple burger and some fries, along with a soft drink. It had been the first thing that didn’t look complicated, and hopefully the bubbles from the drink would help settle his gut. Plus, he could manage to down a few bites of a burger, enough that he wouldn’t appear so unwell that his appetite was as shot as it genuinely was.

Wait- why did he care about how his plate looked? Was it the chance that Alastor would make yet another remark? ‘You’ve hardly touched your plate, dear!’ Oh, he could just hear it now. As if the knowledge that he was unwell didn’t already make Vox want to crawl out of his skin. He hated feeling weak, under any circumstances - but especially under the ones he had zero control over. 

And to have Alastor poking and prodding every time he so much as sniffled was beginning to grow a bit old. Fast. As if reading his thoughts, Alastor’s chipper-as-ever voice caught his attention once again. 

“Do you have a wire loose, or something to that effect? I dare-say I haven’t ever seen your antennae so active.” Alastor’s grin only widened when Vox grimaced. Shit. Catching his reflection in the window they were seated beside, he could see a rather intense surge of electricity crackling along and between his antennae. He took a deep breath - equally as crackling, and soaked with congestion - before half-coughing it out into his elbow. “It’s… nothing, just a glitch.” 

Damn it all, why did his body insist on betraying his fucking thoughts? Was nothing sacred? Oh wait, it wasn’t, as he often needed to remind himself. It’s Hell. 

So akin to a shark sensing blood in the water, Alastor pounced. “Certain of that, hm? Perhaps it’s a side effect - you are so ill, after all.” The emphasis on ‘so’ caused another surge of electricity, and Vox’s already taught spine felt a shudder travel down it from both frustration and… something else. Something vaguely familiar, irritating and– “I can assure you, Alastor, it’s just… jhhhust…?” Oh fuck, not again - not here, in this fucking ancient diner that was somehow PACKED as if to spite him. Alastor clocked onto Vox’s predicament rather quickly, as if bringing a fist to the middle of his screen wasn’t enough of a dead give-away. 

The sensation still grew, despite the fact that Vox could feel the intense pressure of his knuckles all but grinding against his screen. It was somehow fuzzing around every single inch of his head, and simultaneously completely out of reach to actually scratch. He sniffed, which sounded far more damp than Vox had been intending for it to, before attempting to speak again - only to have his breathing hijacked with a double-gasp. 

“It’s j-just… Ahh– hehh!”

“I do believe we got to that part, but I’m just itching to know the rest!” 

Mother of Fucking Christ, he was going to short-circuit on the spot. There was no point in trying to finish again, not with his systems so preoccupied. Fuck, fine, just get it over with. Vox eased the pressure on his screen, before relinquishing his fist to hang in the air before mouth, which was stuck gaping as he gasped again - then again, his body finally beginning to do what it needed to. “Ahhh’hah…! hehh’hih’EHhh–!!... hh… hhgh?” 

Vox’s lips formed an open-mouthed frown, his brow furrowed from more than just the prickling irritation. Which, while still prominent, seemed to stall just on the apex breath. Another sniffle, another bout of hitching that… also failed to result in a sneeze. Vox released an unsteady exhale that mingled with an exasperated groan. 

Seriously?! He was finally ready to sneeze, and his body decided to fucking bail on him? What the literal Hell?

It only occurred on another failed attempt at sneezing that Vox had technically brought this on himself. He’d been fighting the urge to sneeze ever since his initial outbursts. He was so hellbent on not sneezing due to the discomfort and, frankly embarrassment it caused that he’d put up a mental block around even the thought of it. And now that he actually wanted to, really, desperately needed to sneeze out the infernal itch, his body was simply listening to what he’d demanded from it earlier. He wasn't going to sneeze. 

He wanted to cry. 

As it was, he could feel saline welling in the corners of his eyes, which were swiped away with a vicious, frantic sniffle. Before Alastor could open his mouth, he gasped out an airy, “I’m fine!” which decidedly did not signify that he was anything even in the ball-park of being ‘fine’.

He heard Alastor chuckle, and was spared the ol’ reliable of his smile with his tearing eyes wrenched shut. But Vox could still feel it, in every single receptor and nerve, it seemed to dig right beneath his skin. 

“Oh yes, you’re the absolute epitome of ‘fine’. And ‘good health’ while we’re at it!” The only semblance of a response Vox could give was to cough in irritation; he was thoroughly occupied with the incompetence of his own body. And though it wasn’t obvious to him, Alastor’s patience had quickly reached it's limit. 

The Overlord rolled his eyes and, unbeknownst to Vox, opted to take matters into his own hands. 

Tear-soaked eyes had barely squinted open before Vox caught sight of Alastor's gloved hand in front of him, just a few inches shy of actually touching him but close enough to cause a start. The sensation stalled, but not for very long: a ripple of some kind of... energy traveled along the short space between them. And the irritating sensation seemed to double- no, triple in strength and intensity, and for a brief moment Vox thought he might be feeling something akin to pain. 

But no, it wasn’t quite pain. Just the overwhelming, agonizing, all-consuming urge finally, finally tipping over the edge–

“h’EAASCHHH!!!” The first of many, he reckoned, if the steadily rising pressure inside of his head was anything to go by. There was barely a gasp before his body truly let him have it.

“eh’AKK’TZZSCHH! heh’IZZSCH! EH’TZZT’HIEW! Eh’KZSCH! Eh’KZCH!...” 

On and on, rapid, intense sneezes tumbling out in a frenzied heap, one right on the heels of the other. Vox couldn’t ever recall having sneezed so much in his life. And apparently he was going for setting a record as far as his afterlife was concerned. 

“Hh–! EH’TZZT! H’uuhh’ohh f-fuck-” Though thoroughly unable to focus on anything other than sneezing the now worsened irritation - fucking Alastor - out of his system, Vox winced as he felt the collar of his turtleneck become decidedly… damp. 

His ports were- oh Satan’s balls, they were leaking?!

Hissing out another sneeze, a hand immediately flew to his mouth. Thus far the fit had been far too rapid, too intense for his conscious mind to think of covering. Not that the action did much, considering it was his ports leaking - though he could also detect a hint of salivation trailing from one corner of his mouth. 

“Oh for goodness sake.” he heard Alastor mutter. 

In the brief pause where Vox could only pant and anticipate the next flurry of sneezes, he winced as something smacked him in the face. Well, not so much ‘smacked’ as it was tossed, and upon feeling the silken material of the object, snatched at it and pressed it to the lower half of his face. 

“You look an absolute sight,” his companion began, with zero concealment of his disgust, “If you’re not even going to bother properly covering, you can at least–”

“eh’GXT’SCHHIEW!”

“Gesundheit. You can at least have the decency to–”

“hhH’ZZSSCHH! eh’KZZCHH’hue! Kff–!”

“Gesundheit. Mm, perhaps it would be wise to wait until you’re finished with this little display.” 

“hh’RR’ZZZSCHH!!!” 

Alastor’s ears twitched back in response to the rather harsh, static-charged sound. Even Vox's body winced in discomfort from the feedback. “Goodness. If you ever do finish, that is.” 

Sniffling pathetically, Vox managed to smother another trio of smaller, yet equally exhausted-sounding sneezes into the handkerchief. Or, was it a napkin? He couldn’t imagine Alastor sacrificing his napkin to serve as a snot-rag, so maybe he was just soiling his own. 

Whatever. At least it provided some kind of shield between this awful cold and everyone else. 

As if he truly gave a fuck if he was contagious. Though that did call to mind a question that had been gnawing at him ever since he’d even realized he was unwell:  Could he spread this to anyone else? More specifically - to Alastor?

It seemed so out of the realm of possibility. But, in theory, he supposed it would make sense: while Vox outwardly appeared to be mechanically comprised, and certain, obvious parts were, his body still housed organic parts. 

He’d found that out the hard way, once. It was still rather jarring to think about how he’d gaped in horror at his own intestines, but they pulsated and ached and appeared just like anyone else’s. He had a heartbeat, a brain that was… probably made of gray matter. Probably. 

And he was able to catch a cold. So it stood to reason that he could spread that cold to just about anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfire of a sneeze or cough. 

Including Alastor. 

Vox took his time in trying to make himself look at least semi-presentable again, mopping up his mouth and dabbing at his eyes before reluctantly moving to his neck. Though when he caught Alastor’s expectant expression, he sniffled thickly before speaking.

“Sndf! I… I think it’s over.” His weary gaze gave way to irritation, “You could have at least warned me before pulling a stunt like that, y’know.” 

Alastor appeared insulted, scoffing. “I suppose that’s the last time I lend you my generosity, then! It’s certainly not my fault that your system is so terribly faulty.” 

“I was perfectly fine before you decided to mess with me out of nowhere!”

“Oh yes, huffing and gasping as though you were in some amateur erotica - surely I should have let you continue on in all your obscenity! Ridiculous,” Alastor’s upper lip snagged in obvious disdain, a gloved finger gliding down his own neck, “You’re still leaking.” 

Vox’s fans kicked into overdrive. “Oh, for fuck’s sake–”

[rekino2114]

project eden's garden girls reacting to their S/Os death

P.e.g girls reacting to your death

A/N:FINALLY, my first fangan request

Eva tsunaka:Ultimate liar

She had no emotions when she found your body. She just kept her emotionless demeanor and poker face, but inside, she was incredibly distraught.

She used her talent to make everyone,and maybe even herself, that she wasn't affected by your death, but it was a lie. She was truly lost without you.

The only time when she showed any emotions was when your killer was revealed. She glared and screamed at them but returned to her normal face during the execution.

She was even more quiet and untrusting for the rest of the killing game. You were the only person she actually liked and trusted, and now that you were gone, she had no one

Cassidy amber Ultimate pro gamer:

She thought you were playing a prank on her at first, but when she heard the body discovery announcement(I assume there's gonna be one), she just screamed and cradled your body.

She was uncharacteristically mad at everyone, her playful comments turned into straight-up insults, her happy and bubbly personality just went away.

This was probably one of the few times she actually investigated properly everything, and was actually useful during the trial, she wanted to find out who took your life.

When the killer was revealed, she just screamed insults at them but she broke down after their execution.

Eloise taulner:ultimate fencer

She just starts bawling her eyes out the moment she sees you. You couldn't be gone. You promised to never leave her alone.

Ingrid and Wolfgang try to calm her down, but she's just inconsolable she spends all of her time crying even during the investigation and trial.

When the class figured out who your killer was she just kept crying only muttering a why did you do that? Even if she already knew the answer.

She was genuine depressed fir the rest of the game she didn't care about living anymore she just wanted you back and to go home.

Wenona:Ultimate entrepreneur

She was beyond pissed when she discovered your body but she didn't show it very openly.

She throws passive-aggressive comments at everyone and accuses each one of her classmates to be the killer.

You know how, in the first trial, she was the one to suggest that Cara was trying to kill her killer? Well, if anyone even dares to suggest that about you, they're getting directly yelled at by her.

She just threw a barrage of insults at your killer to get her anger out, but after their execution, she's just way too tired to do anything, she shouldn't even have gone to this damn school and now her lover is dead.

Grace madison Ultimate golfer

She was sooooooo angry and pissed off and unlike Wenona she definitely shows it.

If people thought she was aggressive before then they didn't see anything yet, she's ready to punch anyone who even slightly annoys her or says something about you.

She was ready to beat up your killer like she did with tozu. She didn't even care what Mara was gonna do to her, but Wolfgang managed to convince her not to for her own sake.

She's just extra angry during the rest of the game, not even caring about the murders, she just wants to leave this fucking place.

Diana venicia:Ultimate cosmetologist

Much like Eloise, she just starts crying when she sees you, you always helped her keep a smile on her face throughout everything she can't believe you're gone.

She tries to keep it together and to regain her positive attitude but it's very difficult without you.

She doesn't have any hatred towards your killer, she knew they were just forced by tozu and this game.

She's a lot more sad after your death, but she needs to keep living for your memory.

Ingrid grimwall Ultimate blacksmith

She's more shocked than sad, too shocked to say anything, she genuinely didn't expect that to happen.

She swore to protect you and did everything she could to do it and yet you still died, she's heartbroken by this.

Her protective personality gets expanded to all of her friends, she can't let anyone else she's close to die.

She doesn't say anything to your killer she doesn't even look at them she just closes her eyes and accepts that you're gone.

[kittenintheden]

Not Your Sweetheart Ch 49 - Wonderwall

Not Your Sweetheart Chapter 49 - Wonderwall

The one where I absolutely delight in reminding everyone that Astarion has a dead average 10 charisma and an 18 CHA Tav gives him a run for his goddamn money in all the best and most angsty ways.

AKA "gets away with it bc hottie w/a body" meets "wins every social interaction and is also troubled and hot."

AKA the seducer gets seduced and he's mad about it, until he isn't.

But also it's a whole campaign? You know. Do not enter unless you're expecting true-to-life D&D -- everyone hot as hell but stupid as fuck. Get your top-shelf found family and hotties battling for flirt dominance tropes here. 

---

A look into Leon's past, a brief but loaded family reunion, and a discovery that's immediately ignored because we aren't ready to unpack all that. Read on AO3.

Commissioned piece of the dorks by the fantastically talented @/hamrikaa (see the full thing in Ch 10).

***

Leon Onufrio wasn’t born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but he was born with the Weave flowing through his soul. To some, that was an even more enviable gift.

When a scrappy young sorcerer with the world at his fingertips rose the ranks in Baldur’s Gate, everyone of import noticed. Many with interest, some with jealousy, and others with wariness. Charismatic, skilled, proud. Everything magic had always come easy to him and it showed. Leon didn’t lean toward arrogance, really, but he couldn’t help a little bit of self-importance after a lifetime of praise and open doors.

Which is why Victoria’s birth humbled him so.

It would be too far to say the child was an accident. She hadn’t been part of the plan at the time, exactly, but he’d known what he was doing when he charmed his way into a pretty patriar’s bed. Talent gets you far, but it never hurts to have insurance if life turns sideways. And turn sideways it did. The Gate’s nobility are hardly unaccustomed to the occasional scandal, but they are very accustomed to making scandals disappear. Leon’s lover took a sabbatical, his best ties to the Upper City were mysteriously severed, and some months later a parcel was delivered to his door.

The parcel contained five hundred gold, a tear-stained note full of melodramatic waffling, and an infant.

Magic was Leon’s forte. He knew exactly how to bend the Weave to his whims and use it to impress his way into good standing. But parenthood? The very first thing that didn’t come naturally. At all.

That first year was an endless struggle. Keeping the little one fed when she could have naught but milk every few hours. Sleepless nights punctuated with wailing every time he managed to dose for a few minutes. Exasperated fights with the people who used to give him work and had since been instructed to find another enchanter.

He wanted to hate the baby. He should have hated her.

But he found he could do nothing but love her.