#I NEED TO BURN THEIR IMAGES IN MY BRAIN.

[banqanas]

anyway. :)))

this is banan binch who is so desperate to see the BOT illustrations with her own eyes and at this point does not care about duplicates and will be getting uh.

3 copies of the same Keito, Sota, Yusei

2 copies Horinacchan, Sawanatsu, Leiya

[sturnioloho]

new fav chris pic cuz r u fucking kidding me

[bubbeebear]

No matter what anyone says, I will lose it everytime I see this.

[jnpje]

[lavenoon]

Best to let them be. Their cryptid loves them.

@naffeclipse I'm pretending Vanessa's fine once again but only to make things worse for her <3

[strangerstilinski]

this is all i've been able to think about for the last 18hrs btw

[benetnvsch]

Got bored in cs class and tried to draw flat Kunikida from memory- it went okay-

[moe-broey]

One thing about me is that I will focus on the completely wrong task.

[redrocketpanda]

I've been starting to feel a bit drained from writing smut and feel like I need to take a break at some point (I say as though the next two things I said I'd write aren't smut)

But then I stumbled upon some Bokuroo notes in my phone that I wrote whilst feral one night in June and now I'm like... cool... or... or I could write my first bokuroo smut fic...

[candaru]

I will not change myself to be who you want me to be.

[cheridraws]

hhhhhmmmmmmm

[a-ikuoliver]

happy birthday to the man!! — katsuki sees your sex toys once and is haunted by what you look like using them

pairing: bakugou x f!reader w/c: 1.5k warning/s: nsfw 18+, m! & f!masturbation; sex toys, i think that's everything notes: this is a bit short BUT i had to get something out for the man, this took me like 2 weeks to write but hopefully now i'll be out of my slump a little bit! pls enjoy c:

crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

fuck… he really doesn’t know when the lines started to blur between friend and fantasy, from wanting to hang out with you to wanting you, from talking to you about your day to being bricked up hearing your voice. yet, here he was, hot water streaming down his neck, plastering damp hair to his forehead; the water pouring over his head nowhere near enough to wash his mind of you.

he’d been plagued by you, morning to night, even in his damn dreams since he tried to find a phone charger at your place.

it’s not like he was snooping, he wasn’t trying to find that sort of thing, bakugou was only trying to find your spare charger, he’d seen you put it in one of these drawers before, how was he meant to know you left your spare chargers right below all of that?

he’d slammed the drawer shut the absolute second he realised exactly what he was staring at; the bedside drawer stuffed to the brim with bright, phallic toys, a collection of smaller, rounder vibrators, something that looked awfully similar to a gag, and he heard the telltale metal clinking of at least one pair of handcuffs against the wood when he slammed it closed. embarrassing heat crawled up his neck, burning his cheeks and setting the very tips of his ears alight. stuck in the same spot, mouth half opened dumbly, his eyebrows creased in the centre of his face, all blood rushing from his brain down to his half-hard cock already straining against his pants, the need making him ache.

every hour since that, he’d spent thinking of what your wet cunt looked like swallowing the toys; so pretty and drippy, how it looked tensing around nothing when you came from the buzzing of your vibrator, how you’d look writhing and moaning handcuffed with that gag in your mouth, how your drool would stain your shirt, sticking the fabric to your skin. god, it was just so lewd, even under the purifying water, he felt dizzy, sticky, hot, sweaty, the image of your toys burnt into his retinas, no matter what he tried to distract himself with, he always saw your toys at the forefront of his mind, the perverted imagery refusing to budge from its newfound home.

bakugou groans, a deep, rough sound drowned out by the even buzzing echoing in his ears, the sound slowly building, kicking to a new level when your whine drowns it out. you always start nearly silent in his dreams, just tiny gasps escaping your parted lips when you’d nestle the toy right against your clit. you only get louder from there, your eyebrows scrunching together like his own were, marking two little tallies in the middle, tilting upwards at the centre as you pulled your lip up between your teeth. the motion did absolutely nothing to muffle your sounds, your whimpers and moans only growing louder with every heave of your chest, every passing moment with the vibrator pressed to your pulsing clit making your hips jolt into it.

you reach between your thighs with a whine that sounds all too similar to his name torn from your lips, dipping your fingertips in your slick cunt, collecting all the cum gathering at your trembling hole without even taking a breather from humping your vibrator like your life depended on it. your movements grew jerkier and jerkier the longer the intense vibrations were held to your drooling pussy, your eyes fluttering closed with a breathless shout of his name, shaky, wet thighs squeezing around your hand, even as the vibrator slipped from your grip, falling forgotten onto the sheets beneath you, the constant stimulation growing too much for you—

“fuck.” he really couldn’t help it, his hand travelling lower down his abdomen, trailing behind droplets of water still running down his torso to his hard cock, the tip already leaking from the thought of you. wrapping his fist around the base of his cock, he squeezed once before twisting his wrist, slowly jerking his cock, wondering if you were in your shower doing the same, fucking yourself on one of your toys imagining him in its place just as he wished it was your warm cunt squeezing around his dick instead of his hand.

“katsukiii—” bakugou can feel you beside him, your figure displacing the dense steam surrounding him, a heavy, thick silicone dildo hanging from the glass wall of the shower, your figure slick and soapy from the shower, damp hair sticking to the soft skin of your neck and face when you bent at the waist, lining the tip of the plastic cock up with your drooling hole. the head of the cock would slide into your cunt all too easily in his fantasies, always greedy to watch you take more and more, inch by inch sinking onto it. your mouth falls further open the more you take of the toy, the pleasure too much for you to even hold your head up by the time your ass was pressed against the cool glass, your back arching with the tip of the dildo nestled deep inside your cunt. he wonders if the curve of it would rub on your g-spot at this angle, if it would drive you crazy grinding against the glass, whining when you can’t take it anymore.

bakugou’s head falls back thinking of you reaching for the shower head, his cock pulsing in his hand when he grips the base, his muscles tensing and relaxing while he tried desperately not to cum; the image of you playing behind his eyelids making that a near impossible task. even with his eyes squeezed shut, there you are at the forefront of his mind, switching the settings of the shower head to a concentrated stream, aimed directly at your aching clit, your broken moan jolting his hips forward into his hand, stroking the length languidly. your voice wavered, repeating his name again, the stimulation inside and outside your cunt just so overwhelming.

bracing against the tile with your spare hand, you lift yourself back off the toy, the base suctioned to the glass remaining stuck as you grew quicker in your movements, starting to bounce and roll your hips in a smooth tempo. he matches the pace of your hips with his fist, his breath coming out in nothing but deep huffs. his uneven groans were nothing compared to your sweet chorus of moans and whines, an endless symphony playing in his head of “ah-ah-ah”’s and “mmmng”’s the closer you got, your cum coating the toy just like his pre was smearing all over his fist.

he can’t help the guttural sound that escapes him next, a garbled, broken version of your name when your thighs tremble, your knees only moments away from buckling from the pure bliss; the water is still aimed at your clit, even when you can’t bounce on the dildo anymore, wave after wave of pleasure drowning you until your eyes rolled into your skull and your cum gathered in a creamy ring at the base of the toy, your ass flattening against the glass as you greedily took more of the toy, intensifying the euphoria wracking through your body. he knows your toy fills your cunt so perfectly, knows how you’d hump the air to get more and more of the water aimed at your clit, unrelenting in chasing your orgasm, jolting and jerking until your knuckles turned white against the tile wall, until your voice was so high and loud it didn’t even sound like you anymore.

he wonders if you’d ever screamed taking the fake cock, if you’d ever been so overwhelmed you squealed, your pretty cunt clenching around the toy, milking the poor plastic for everything it can’t give you, or if he’d be the first to make you cum so intensely.

“ka-aa-ki—” you can’t even spit his name out, your name the same mess on his plump lips, caught so hard between sharp teeth he worries he’ll split the thin skin. all his muscles tense, his abdomen clenching low on his stomach, the veins stretching along the underside of his cock throbbing with the need to join you in the throes of pleasure, to cover your cunt in milk white cum you desperately tried to squeeze from the silicone.

your name is a choked mantra tumbling from his lips, over and over again, dark crimson eyes rolling into the back of his skull the longer you bounced on the toy, pinching sensitive nipples between your slippery, soapy fingers, dragging your orgasm out as long as you could, as long as he would, until your knees were weak and your couldn't even manage to dumbly spit out his name anymore.

“fuck.” he damn near whines, a mess of cum covering his fingers, coating his knuckles as he kept fucking his fist through the waves of his own orgasm, shivering even with the hot water running down his body, cleaning his hand even as he continued to stroke his cock, relaxing his muscles as his toes still curled, his knuckles stark white against the tile.

his head fell forward onto the cooling tile, a temporary relief for the haziness swirling around in the steam.

shit, how was he meant to look you in the eyes after this?

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

[arminsumi]

tattoartist!suguru losing nonchalance when reader flirts with him?

im down bad for him holy hell

Oh, he's falling to pieces, got it bad for the girl he just met 'n he's gonna make a drunk little bet — y'think he's crazy enough to get your name tattooed on him? Or crazy enough to ink his name into your skin?

ㅤ★ wc; ~3k

ㅤ★ note; continuation of tattoo artist Suguru Geto!

ㅤ★ an; aaa!! you got my brain whirring like a laptop... tysm and i hope this makes u blush and kick ur feet as much as i did while writing!! 🍰✨

ㅤ★ tagz; @ohimsummer 💗@fairiesthrum💗 @heartofjasmina 💗 @kwonan 💗 @ghost-buddies 💗 @madamecorbie 💗 @mima0127 💗 @moggleatlife 💗 @natasaa13 💗 @yemmuishomeforthementallyunwell 💗 @wakashudou 💗 @khaothick 💗 @candy-s72 💗 @creamflix 💗 @starriesworlds

ㅤ★ warnings; sum alcohol/drunkenness

“So, was she joking, or am I your type?” Suguru asks, black eyes staring right into your soul.

“Mm, well…” you hum, giving his form a look-over – god, if only you could feel how hard his heart’s beating when you do this. “Maybe.” You reply teasingly.

“Aw, just ‘maybe’?” he groans, now leaning his hip against the edge of the display case that housed the studs and gauge earrings.

“Yeah, just ‘maybe’ – I’m teasing. No, she wasn’t joking; I’ve always had a thing for the black hair, black nails, bad boy look…”

“The ‘bad boy’ look…?” he questions, recalling what your friend had said earlier about bad boys being just your type.

“Yeah, the ‘bad boy’ look.” You giggle.

His heart beats even harder, muttering a naughty little “Well, lucky me.”

“Nah, not so fast – I’m a smart woman.” You warn.

“Oh, are you?” he clicks his tongue in defeat, “Damn, would you believe that my type is smart women? No, no I’m serious… I’ve got a thing for smart women.”

Your cheeks grow hot, the heat spreading to your ears.

“I can assure you that the ‘bad boy’ look is just an aesthetic; I’m really an artsy dork making a living off doodling on people’s bodies.” He shrugs.

“Hm… maybe, maybe not.”

You rub your lips together. He briefly licks his bottom lip. You look him up and down. He looks you up and down. Body language open and alive with attraction, the both of you stand in this air of electric tension that Shoko spies from the other end of the room.

She watches as the two of you giggle like little flirts, observing how totally absorbed the two of you are in each other’s company. When you catch her eye, Shoko gives you a wink and points at her wrist, mouthing “five more” – fair enough, the two of you have promised to get pizza.

Pizza first, boys later, right?

Five minutes more go by – adding to the total of four hours spent at the tattoo & piercing parlor. But despite her discomfort and need for a change of scenery, Shoko decides to linger around just a little longer so that the two of you can indulge in each other just a little more.

But now you're getting nervous – Suguru has you breathless, holding you in a battle of who can flirt harder? which you're starting to lose.

He's captivated by you. This 6’3, tattooed, goth-grunge, slightly dorky man chuckles and smiles like he hasn’t had this much fun talking flirting with someone in years.

It's going well, then your smile trips him up. I know, it’s always the smile, huh? If you see enough of it, you slip… and that’s exactly what's happened to Suguru. He quickly grows obsessed with the way your cheeks look when you smile – the image burns into his memory without him even realizing it in the moment.

No, in the moment he doesn't realize the magnitude of your effect on him. He's just thinking about himself, about you, about —

“I’ve gotta go,” you say goodbye finally, “I don’t want to keep my friend waiting. But you’ll probably see my face here again… she loves dragging me along for these kinds of things.”

He stutters, “Oh! Oh… yeah – yes. Of course. Looking forward to it… maybe next time, you’ll be the one getting ink in your skin.”

“Yeah right.” You smile.

It’s your French exit that makes his heart throb in need.

No, don’t leave yet… I like you – don’t you ever wonder how many acquaintances in your life have thought this when leaving your company? And you’ll never even know.

Oh, Suguru was thinking so hard about asking you to exchange numbers or to meet up for coffee, but he didn’t want to come off as too forward – no, no… he had to maintain his mysteriousness. Or at least, he had to cling to whatever was left of it after revealing his inner dorkiness to you.

*****

After you leave, he wanders in and out of his studio, has small interactions with his co-workers, and doodles ideas for tattoos down.

Throughout all of these things, your face is at the forefront of his mind. Your voice echoes in his head as he recalls every detail of the conversation you two shared. Then he starts smiling softly as he applauds himself for being so gutsily flirty with you… a stranger, just someone, who he probably won’t see again…

A girl with no name.

God, why was he so slow? He didn’t even ask for your name. Suguru groans.

Yes, he probably won’t see you again… not unless your friend brings you along for her next visit. How long does he have to wait? Weeks? Months? That’s insane.

Suguru stops doodling, stares at the scrap of paper, and then looks up at the wall displaying his works. He rubs his fingers back and forth across his mouth.

I gotta.

He looks over to his phone. He reaches for it, takes it into his veiny hand, unlocks it, and scrolls through his list of contacts.

And then he dials his client’s number. Shoko Ieri.

*****

Now, it’s been just under an hour since you and Shoko left the tattoo parlour. She’s complained three times about the pain because exactly three times she has leaned back on the seat – squishing the fresh ink wound against her chair. You just cruelly laugh at how her eyes twitch in pain and each time.

The two of you sit eating pizza.

“He liked you. Why don’t we go back and you ask him for his number?” she teases.

“No way… he’ll think I’m too forward.” You shake your head.

Then three minutes later, Shoko's phone goes off. She reaches into her backpack. She looks at the caller ID, then at you, then at the caller ID, then –

“… is that him?”

“It’s him.”

“What’s he calling for! Me?”

“Absolutely he’s calling for you – I can bet gold on that.”

It stops ringing. She tells you she’ll text him back but guess what? She doesn’t even need to, because he calls again.

“Relentless.” She giggles. “I’m answering.”

“Pretend I’m not here!”

She winks at you and answers, “Hey, Suguru, what’s up?”

The two of you lean in until the your foreheads press together – it’s still hard to make out every word.

“Yo.” You hear his smooth voice coming from the other side, “Sorry to bother you… (muffled)… your friend (muffled)… so embarrassed, so don’t tell her that I’m calling… (muffled)… what was her name?”

You clap your hand over your mouth when you hear those snippets.

She gives you a devious look before saying, “Oh! Well, she’s right here with me, actually, so you can ask her yourself.”

Mouth full of pizza, you freak out and X your arms to signal a fat NO WAY SHOKO! and fall to pieces all with the taste of pepperoni on your tongue.

But she just hands the phone over to you anyways, then proceeds to silently laugh as you spit out your pizza before talking.

“Hehlooo?”

“H-hey.”

You get right to the point. “My name’s Yn…”

“Oh… I like that… I’m Suguru.”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Suguru. Suguru Geto.” He raises his voice.

Cheek hot against the screen of his phone, Suguru is silently freaking out at the tense silence. He can feel his stomach starting to flip. His mind blanks.

“Anyways! Um, that’s all.”

No. That’s not all. He has a novel’s length worth of things to talk about with you.

At this point, Shoko rolls her eyes at the two of you being so awkward on the phone and decides that she needs to take matters into her own hands.

So she snatches the phone from you.

“ – Suguru? Say, you wouldn’t be free on Saturday, would ya? Yeah, I’m going on a date with this guy… and I’d love to make it a double date with you and Yn if you’d like to –”

You hear him stutter out a yes, absolutely before Shoko can even finish her sentence. She grins.

Suguru can sense that the two of you are smiling and giggling. He can predict that the two of you are probably going to gossip about him being the 'dork from the tattoo parlor that called not once, but twice for the name of a girl he just met' – but he doesn’t care. He’s been presented an opportunity and taken it.

To hell with seeming too eager.

When the call ends, Suguru blows out a breath through his lips. Then he promptly texts his best friend. Dark strands of hair slip out of his sloppy bun as he puts his face over the screen, thumbs swift and eager.

Toru 🤞😜 lol bravo... but i thought u said she was out of ur league??

Sugu i mean... yes. she's way too pretty and smart for me. but i'm not gonna pass up this opportunity

Toru 🤞😜 still can't believe u called ur client just to get her friend’s name... lol

Sugu you would understand if you met her ok

Toru 🤞😜 damn she must be something else

Yes, yes you are something else — Suguru can’t even begin to describe why. Translating his thoughts into words isn’t his thing; he translates them into art.

****

It's later in the day. You're lazing around Shoko's apartment.

She confirms the time and place of the double date, and cackles on her couch while kicking her feet, teasing you for being so crazy about a guy you just met – her tattoo artist.

You just couldn’t stop talking about Geto Suguru.

“Shiiit, should I even let you and a bad boy like him be alone in a room together?”

“I can control myself.” you assure her.

She slowly shakes her head at you.

“Yeah right… but can he? I don't trust neither of you... miss crazy and mister crazy... you might just wake up with his name in your skin.”

You giggle to yourself, biting your thumb. “Maybe…”

“Oh girl…” she groans, causing you to giggle into yourself, “You’re gonna be licking the tail of his dragon tattoo by the end of the date tomorrow.”

“H-h-he has a what? And where?” you stuttered, lashes quivering.

She shakes her head at you. “God, you’re screwed…”

*****

It's Saturday night. The bar's more alive than ever.

You've learned that Geto Suguru does, in fact, have a dragon tattoo inked up his toned arm – and a tight-fitting black tank top that shows it off along with his martial artist’s physique, too.

He’s got a glint of the devil in his black eyes. Softly-delivered dirty jokes ready to roll off his pierced tongue. A habit of tilting his head and looking hungrily at your lips and neck.

“Martial arts, huh?” you ask with stars in your eyes.

“Mhm, I could teach you a few things.” He purrs in reply.

Your stomach starts squeezing and flipping – that’s got to be the flirtiest 'mhm' that you’ve ever heard in your whole life.

“You think so?” you purr back.

Now it’s his turn to feel that squeezy, flippy feeling in his stomach.

Fuckfuckfuck is all he could think when he looks into your eyes.

I’m gonna fall to pieces. You’re gonna be the death of me.

“Uh…  do you two need some privacy?” Shoko teases.

Oh. It’s a double date. How could you forget? Shoko is literally sitting beside you at the bar with her date. But for a second there, it really felt like it was just you 'n this deliciously tattooed bad boy.

“Maybe.” Suguru chuckles coyly.

“There’s a hotel just next door…”

“Shoko!” you scold, playfully shoving her arm.

She giggles into herself, sipping down her cocktail innocently as if she didn’t just electrify the air between you and Suguru. His throat’s tensing, foot’s tapping up and down on the bar stool – boy’s got long spider-legs, huh?

Now after that, Suguru grins wider – showing off his pretty canines – his posture assuming something self-soothing; he holds his elbows, arms squished against his ribcage, which just makes his biceps more pronounced. Oh why, why did he have to wear a tank top like that? Surely he’s aware of the effect it has on girls. Or maybe he’s oblivious…

Nah. He's not.

*****

“Did it hurt?” you ask, trying to blink out the tipsiness from your love-drunk eyes but you’ve got three cosmopolitans surging through your veins.

“Not really… I’ve got great pain tolerance.” Suguru replies.

“Oh really?” you blink up at him again and his mind goes blank.

“Look at that...” He murmurs softly, not breaking eye contact with you. Where’s your friend and her date? Who knows. It’s just you and him now – and that’s all he wanted.

“Hm?”

“Not every day I see eyes like that…”

You widen your lips into a smile, “You’re laying it on thick.”

“Am I? Sorry – see, this is what happens after you feed Suguru too much rum. I just can’t keep my mouth shut.”

“That’s terrible… need someone to shut ya up?” you flirt.

He tilts his head at you, loose strands of hair shifting across his cheek. His left brow quirks up – he’s so taken aback by your forwardness but he falls right into it.

You just giggle flirtatiously after making that comment and pull the straw of your drink between your lips, sucking the remnants of a cosmopolitan into your mouth as sensually as you dare to in front of a bad boy who’s got bedroom eyes on you.

“I think I could do with some shutting up…” he admits.

“Mm,” you hum, “y’think by our third date you’re gonna snap and kiss me hard like we’re in a movie?”

Suguru smiles bashfully and looks down into his drink, swirling the melting ice cubes with a straw – slowly, round and round, they clink. Then he draws his gaze back to you, catching you with a sultry side-eye, and now it’s not just the ice cubes that are melting.

“Nah-uh…”

“Nah-uh?” you question.

“… I think it’s you who’s gonna snap first.” He says.

“Wanna bet?” you tease.

“Sure. What’ll be at stake?” he asks.

He keeps his sultry gaze on you as you look off to the side in thought for a moment. Your friend’s joke echoes in your mind.

“… you might just wake up with his name in your skin.”

Then you look back to him – his heart throbs but he’s trying to keep it together here, pulling his straw to his lips to get a sip of whatever rum still exists in his glass.

“Loser gets a regrettable tattoo?” you suggest.

He looks at you with a little bit of disbelief at your boldness.

“How regrettable?” he questions, one eye squinting shut in suspicion. He's wondering just how wild you actually are.

“Like my name on you? Or vice versa.”

He covers his mouth and lets out a chuckle hearing this. “You want me to tattoo my name on ya skin?” he teases. “Sure, I’ll bet on that.”

You can’t believe that he’s matching your crazy.

You stutter, replying only after a lingering moment of hot eye contact, “… there’s no way I’m gonna snap first…” you say boldly, proceeding to pop the cherry of your drink into your mouth and eating it right in front of the poor boy’s eyes. “ ‘m gonna have you walkin’ around with my name on you.”

Eyes glued on your lips, his breath catches in his throat.

“Yeah?”

Ooh, there it was. That feeling. That body singing electric songs feeling… that tummy-tightening, blood-rushing, skin-flushing feeling – it hit him all at once. He knows that if he were standing, his knees would have buckled now for sure, or at least he would have felt the tremor of your words under his feet.

He’s unsteady – smiling uncontrollably, looking dishevelled and softly drunk. Those rouge lips are begging to be kissed.

The bar grows quieter and quieter.

You’re hardly able to call each other anything more than strangers, and yet you’re leaning into him, closing the distance.

The tips of your noses are just inches apart now. You’re in each other’s air. He eyes out your lips, feels your hot, liquor-scented breath tickle his face.

But when you try and close the distance, he raises his hand and presses his thumb against your soft lips, stopping you.

“What happened to that bold statement, huh? Keep it together, baby; the bet’s on.” He feathers against your face.

*****

Tumbling into Shoko’s apartment after a night out drinking, you smile and giggle into the pillows of her bed.

She’s letting her hair down and swapping out her tight dress for jammies when she looks at you in your gleeful state.

“Someone’s in love.” She teases, coming over to tickle you.

“I’m not in love!”

“Oh, quit the act; I saw how the two of you said goodbye – you could barely hold yourself together. Drunk or not, I ain’t seen two adults giggling like that before.”

“Sh!” you swat her, “Not! In! Love!”

She takes a look into your eyes and observes your smile, then shakes her head. You're drowsy, so you make a dive into her bed and fall asleep almost instantly.

Shoko pulls a blanket over you, affectionately ruffling your hair.

“Madly in love, at the very least.”

[monstersflashlight]

Day 5. Monster-kinktober: Ancient God + Branding/Uniform

A/N: Using they/them pronouns bc angels have no gender (but his earth manifestation is a priest so he/him when referring to him like that). This turned out very poetic and I’m not sure I fully like it, but hopefully it’s good. Enjoy!

Gn!Biblical angel x fem!reader || branding, mind control, heavy dub-con || tw: murder, manipulation

You died. You don’t know how or when or even your name… But you died. You passed away and you were walking through a clear path ahead. No destination in mind, you only knew you needed to keep going. You walked and walked. And after what felt like days, maybe years, you saw a light on the horizon. Then you ran and ran, instinctively knowing there was your answer, that light had all you needed even if you didn’t even know what that was.

As you approached, you expected the figure to become more humanoid, more god-like maybe, but it didn’t. In front of you, there was a big ball of light surrounded by thousand of eyes. No, not a light creature… an angel. A true biblical angel that looked so bright and ethereal you had to close your eyes because their beauty was too much to hold, but not a second later you had to open them to see if they were indeed that beautiful. It pained your soul to look directly at them, it was too pretty to be looked with your poor human eyes, it was too much but at the same time you couldn’t look away for even a second, your eyes unable to blink as you stared at them.

“We meet again, my little lamb,” a voice in your head said.

You knew that voice, you didn’t know from where or why but you knew it. You knew them… You knew you were safe with them, no memories, no many thoughts in your head, but the only thing you were 100% sure about was that they were there to take care of you. To answer your questions and to alleviate the pain in your soul.

“I promised you’d always be safe, and here I am here to collect what’s mine to protect.” There was an edge to their voice, a growl in the way they said mine that made your skin prickle with goosebumps. But you still couldn’t look away.

Something akin to a hand, maybe a ray of light, you weren’t sure, reached around him to get to you. And in that simple touch against your chest, a fire so big you couldn’t hold back a scream rose from within. Little by little you started remembering pieces of your mortal life. You started to remember his voice, his smell… but most of all you remember his clothes. You remembered seeing him on a priest uniform, always so proper with everyone until you rolled around.

He never touched you, but you didn’t need him to, he always had this aura around him that made you go weak in the knees and made you want to sin. You told him everything, even how he made you feel like you were depraved for having dirty thoughts about a priest. He just laughed, dismissing your concerns and telling you how you were his little lamb and he would always protect you. But he never judged you, not really. He was always there when you needed it. And every single time he showed up for you, you fell a little harder for him.

By the time you were so deeply in love it hurt to see his face, he pushed you softly and you hit your head… right at church. Right in front of him. The last imaged burned on your retinas was him with a halo around his body, almost like an angel, almost like a death angel coming to earth to retrieve your soul. And when you came to be, the memories in your brain were fresh and painful, but they were in front of you, waiting, expecting... but you had no idea what.

“Did you kill me?” You asked, confused, the images of him pushing you and the halo around him so fresh it still hurt your heart.

“I did what needed to be done so we could be together forever, little lamb.” Their voice was deep and unbothered, like that simple fact was enough to justify everything.

“Did you kill me?” You asked again.

“I did,” they accepted. “Now we’ll be one in eternity.”

“How?” You loved them, the feelings were still there, but he killed you… That was fucked up.

“I branded you in your mortal life, little lamb, and when you died you became one with my soul,” they tried to explain, but you didn’t understand anything.

“And if I want to leave?” You ventured to question, already expecting the response.

“You won’t, little lamb. You are mine.�� There was a dangerous edge to their voice. “And I am yours,” they added in a softer tone. “I will make you happy, forever…” They reached to you, and you tried to move away, but you couldn’t. There was a force beyond yourself stopping your movements. You were trapped inside your body and they could control all your movements. “Follow me, little lamb, let’s walk into eternity.”

Eternity was how they called their home, an empty space without anything but light. It was so warm you almost wanted to take off your clothes, but you could still only follow them. Your foot moving on their own accord as your angel levitated a couple steps ahead.

At some point they just stopped, everything around you looked exactly the same, but for some reason they decided to stop right there. “It’s time to enjoy what mortal pleasures we refused ourselves in your past life, my little lamb,” they said, cryptically.

“What… what do you mean?” You let out, breathless with the effort to talk when your body was not your own anymore.

Instead of answering, they made your clothes disappear. You stood before them, naked and unable to cover yourself as they stared at you. You wished more than anything that they had a face so you could at least try to figure out how they were feeling, too. And above all, you wished their voice and their touch didn’t make you as hot as you were, already dripping, your body betraying your head for them in an instant.

They made you lay down next, flat against the white surface under you. “Open your legs, let me see you, little lamb.” You wanted to say no, but your hands moved on their own. You reached down and parted your legs, exposing yourself completely to them. “Such a pretty pussy, my pussy, all wet. Touch yourself, let me hear how wet you are.” Your fingers moved on their own accord, the resulting sounds were filthy and you blushed. “Yes… I like when you are so desperate for me you can’t contain yourself from dripping with desire. Rub that tiny bundle of nerves, lamb. I want to see you fall apart, for me.” Their voice was deep.

Your mouth was tightly shut and they spoke inside of your head, telling you what to do, what to feel… And you couldn’t avoid it. You couldn’t say anything about it. But at the same time, you didn’t want to. Their touch felt like a betrayal, but the comfort it gave you made everything worth it. You danced between the dichotomy of needing their touch and being repulsed by it.

“You are going to finger my pretty pussy and when you fall apart for me, I’ll enjoy it,” they ordered.

You wanted to refuse, but you found yourself nodding along as your hand found your wet entrance, your fingers moving on their own accord as your other hand played with your clit. You knew half of those movements weren’t yours, you knew they could control you completely and you were at their mercy, but for some reason that didn’t bother you as much as it should.

They kept talking. “I promised you I would take care of you, and now I can, now that you know everything… we finally can do all you wished. All those dirty depraved thoughts you had and confessed drove me wild with desire, little lamb, and now we are going to make all true.” Your fingers accelerated, pushing against your G-spot in the perfect angle. “Let me remind you some of those… Let me remind you how you wanted to be bent over the altar and fucked until your pussy was so full you were overflowing.” Their words made you shiver as you rubbed your clit faster. “Let me remind you how you told me all about how you would fall to your knees and suck my dick until you were absolved of all your sins. Tsk. Such a dirty little lamb wanting to blackmail a priest.” The insult was soft, but it made your blood boil. But they weren’t done. “Let me remind you how you came to church without panties and exposed your sweet, sweet pussy, my pussy, in the first row… tempting me. You were a sinful little lamb, and you deserve to be punished.”

Their voice became dark and dangerous at the end, and you weren’t in control of your hands anymore. They controlled all your movements, and rapidly you were coming around your fingers, your body trembling as they stared. But you realized it wasn’t your body anymore, nor your fingers... You fell for them in their human skin, when he was dressed as a priest, and you were okay with that. You were depraved enough to confess all your dirty fantasies… and now you would be punished for them.

You were depraved enough to fall for a priest, and the priest was depraved enough to brand you to own your soul forever. They acted like your guardian angel… but they became a demon for you.

[sinofwriting]

Insane Person - Max Verstappen (I ❤️ MILFS verse)

Words: 667 Summary: Max wants to be sure he can give Pan kids. (Part of the I ❤️ MILFS verse) Note(s): Takes place during the original I ❤️ MILFS fic, before Max finds out Pan’s age. Max is insane btw, this has been a blurb idea since I wrote the original fic and finally it has been written so enjoy, lol.

Masterlist | Support Me! | I ❤️ MILFS verse

“I’d love to give Logan a sibling or two.”

The words so soft had made his heart speed up as soon as he heard them and now thinking about them, letting them play on repeat.

It’s early in their relationship, though they haven’t yet talked about it yet, no matter how much Max is dying to do so. But Max wants to be the one that she gives Logan siblings with.

Which is why he’s sitting in front of his computer and looking at medical studies.

A lot of it is going over his head. The most schooling he sat through was the first four or five years of it. He can grasp engineering, anything to do with cars and their data, but medical terminology goes over his head.

He powers through, he doesn’t know Pan’s exact age, his mother would smack him over the head if he even thought to ask her age, but she’s got to to be mid to late thirties if not early forties considering Logan is twenty.

The studies say she’d be fine getting pregnant, shouldn’t have trouble conceiving, and his cheeks burn at the word, at the image it puts in his mind. They haven’t quite got their, but they’ve gotten close. They throw out the term geriatric pregnancy which makes him flinch because forty wasn’t old, at least not if you weren’t a driver and to see it be called something like that felt harsh, rude. Another one calls it advanced maternal age which really isn’t any better, but it’s just relieving to see that’s still possible. And then a study mentions that if people are having trouble conceiving that not only does the person birthing need to get checked, but both do and a new panic takes over his brain.

What if when it came time to try, he was the problem? It would really be his luck. Things had been going very well for the past few years, it would be his luck that he couldn’t give the woman he loves more kids.

And Logan wanted siblings, the panic grows as he remembers Logan chiming in that he’d love some siblings. Oh god, what if he failed in giving Logan siblings? He wanted the younger driver to like him, to really like him.

His fingers act quickly, wanting to know how he can know if he can have kids and the results make him blink because it couldn’t be that easy.

He just had to provide a sample in a cup?

Max’s brain struggles to compute that after just reading everything that women have to go through to get their fertility checked.

His hand goes to his phone, he rarely if ever called his doctor, but this was important.

He goes through the motions of confirming he is who he is, wondering how weird it must be for other people to do this for him before he finally gets asked why for the purpose of the appointment.

“I want to check to see if I can have kids.”

“Okay, are you and your partner having trouble conceiving?”

His cheeks burn, “We aren’t trying yet. I just want to make sure that it’s possible on my end.”

“Okay, it’s a simple procedure at our clinic and we could see you in the next three days if that works for you at any time we are open.”

“That’s perfect.”

“Alright, we’ll see you in a few days, Mr. Verstappen.”

He gets the results back five days after his appointment, an email sitting in his inbox, and he forces himself to take a deep breath before finally opening it.

There are words he doesn’t know, ones he doesn’t really want to think about, but there at the end, a note from his doctor that says everything looks great, and he shouldn’t have troubles getting someone pregnant and his fist goes in the air, a quiet but excited yes leaving him.

He could give Logan siblings and Pan more kids, thank fuck.

[lalunanymph]

𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝒶𝒷𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝓃 𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒽

ੈ✩‧₊˚ mornings are always blissful with xavier by your side

ੈ✩‧₊˚ warnings:- unprotected sex, cock warming, somnophilia, morning sex, messy sex, clit play, nipple play, sleepy xavier, breathplay, just me tearing up and giving xavier all the love he deserves

ੈ✩‧₊˚ i love him sm i need to talk abt xav xav more . . . my little bun bun of a man

Mornings are always blissful with Xavier by your side. The sun streaming past the thin blinds, illuminating the silver of his hair, highlighting the princely bridge of his nose, made your heart somersault right in your chest.

And yet, what he was doing to you wasn't exactly in your plans for a lazy Saturday morning.

“Xav…”

Your whimpers carry past the layers of cotton; muffled, yet heard by him all the same.

His hips snap heavily into yours, one hand on your lower back, the other twined above your splayed palm. 

"Mhmmph," you whine.

“Are you alright?”

His breathy question strikes lightning up your spine, especially when the tip of his cock catches on a spongy spot in your cunt that has you squeezing down tightly on him. 

“Fuck…” he moans shakily. 

You can’t see him, but can plainly imagine the knit of his brows. His perfect lips shaped into an ‘O’. 

The image burns into your memory like a flash of light, and your thighs clench, pussy fluttering like a heartbeat.

“... close,” you murmur. 

He slides a hand underneath your stomach, lifting you up slightly to get a better leverage. 

“Yeah?” Xavier sounds strained. “Me too, beautiful.”

His cock twitches within your walls, and you squirm, fighting back the cresting pleasure to focus on cumming together.

“Give it to me, please,” you gasp, lifting your head up and turning to catch his eye. 

Xavier feels like he’s on cloud nine; that little, desperate look you give when you have three seconds of eye contact gets him harder. 

He hums, thrusts growing erratically. Below, a wet patch is starting to form on the gray sheets, a cumulation of both your excitement.

It should gross him out, but all he feels is an enthralling sense of pride. 

Your pussy is gushing, lewd sounds filling the air and making his brain go hazy. The string of fairy lights in your room casts a warm glow across your back, and Xavier leans in to place hot stamps up your shoulders; across your neck.

Your pussy throbs at his affection, and you whimper his name again. 

Good girl… make a mess for me. 

It’s impossible to resist his low and husky drawl. 

The band in your belly tightens, coils, and then snaps.

More wetness gushes forth from where you’re connected, spilling out in between the cracks of your bodies till you’re limp and drained.

Xavier, Xavier, Xavier, you call out his name, fisting the sheets in your delirium. 

The weight of his body sinks into you, driving you deeper into the mattress. 

Xavier’s dense breaths hit your cheek and neck, the stringy warmth filling you up wells and threatens to spill.

But, he’s faster. 

Turning you in his arms, your lover presses your back to his chest, free arm under your head while the other drapes around your chest, pulling you tighter to him.

A comforting blanket of silence settles over the two of you, and he murmurs your name in his drowsy state.

His cock remains plugged inside of you, keeping his warmth and cum safe in your walls.

You try to paw his arm off you to clean up, but Xavier was having none of that.

“Let’s go to sleep,” he mumbles tiredly. “We can do this later.”

“Mhm... Xav,” you whine, and he chuckles.

Nosing your hair, he settles on kissing your pulse point. Cheekily, his hand cups your tit, thumb gently running circles on your stiffening nipple. You squirm, feeling his cock twitch deep inside of you.

“No,” he says tiredly. “Sleep. Now.” 

You’re making it hard not to. 

But, you don’t get to bite that quip back to him.

Xavier’s already nodding off, breathing growing heavier.

Despite your discomfort, you drift off soon after him, safe in the circle of his arms; his presence a warm light you could bask in forever.

Sweet dreams, you feel him mouth into your skin. I’m here, my little light.

Loving Xavier comes with the territory of lazy mornings and even more languid sex.

You wake up with his cock slowly easing and out of you, inert thrusts rutting against your walls. Blinking wearily, you feel him kissing up your neck; boldly smoothing his palm down your belly and pushing your thighs apart to dive straight to your sensitive core.

Still tender from last night, he rubs sweet circles onto your twitchy clit, focused on building up your release.

You reel back, teeth catching on your lower lip. “Mhmmm…”

His ash blonde lashes flutter against your throat. A soft kiss is placed right in the hollow of your pulse point.

“Good morning,” he mumbles huskily.

You flit your gaze to the outside world, weak sunshine streaming past the thin curtains.

“It’s early,” you whisper, trying hard to ignore how the circles on your clit were growing faster and erratic.

“Mhm,” Xavier moans. He mouths at your neck, leaving hot kisses all over the strip of vulnerable skin.

You feel the ache rising, stoking to a fever pitch.

Like his swordsmanship, Xavier was swift at striking right where it mattered. He puts you on your back, gazing down at you with soft, azure eyes that leaves your heartbeat stuttering.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he mumbles. “All open and spread wide for me.”

He’s one to talk, you exasperate. 

With his tousled light hair, swollen lips and heavy lidded gaze, Xavier looks like he was made to be used first thing in the morning.

He grips the plush fat of your thighs, spreading you wider to accommodate his slim build in between your legs.

His cock pulses inside of you—hot and heavy. Stickiness from yesterday’s fun dribbles out of your puffy hole, staining the bed with a thick white. It causes a slippery mess, joining the slick of sweat smearing across the already soiled sheets.

Xavier can’t be bothered to see past the lust fringing his vision; tunneling right onto your tits which were jiggling with every hard slam of his cock into you.

He paws at the right one, pinching your nipple till it swells and stiffens in his firm grip.

Your hips buck, a low moan slipping past your clenched teeth.

“You’re too irresistible,” he grunts. 

You don’t have time to respond, not when he pries you up to your knees and lets you lean back against his chest. 

This position is new—his cock bullies its way back into your hole and he has the liberty to grip your throat with every heavy slam. 

Lithe fingers slip in between your spread legs, finding your puffy clit and giving it a few taps.

You squeal, flinching from the overstimulation.

“Xavier… oh my god… feels so good,” you’re babbling now, unable to think straight.

The entire universe is condensed to the sensation of his cock stretching you out until it burns; his fingers skillfully twisting and pinching your sensitive nub. 

Your ears are ringing, breaths coming out in foggy pants.

His lips are right at your ear, and his free hand clamps tighter on your neck.

“You should see yourself,” he breathes, beads of his sweat dripping onto your shoulder. “All spread out and taking me so well… I love you.”

His confession leaves something hot and achy in your chest. It’s the first time he's ever uttered those words while inside of you.

“I love you, too,” you mumble tearily. His fingers dig tighter into your airway, choking off your devotion.

Shit, he gasps when you clench down on him. Gonna cum, my love… this pussy is too good. 

Xavier, you cry out his name, reaching back to clutch threads of his soft, ash-blonde locks.

He grunts, giving two more heavy thrusts—spilling inside of you just as your own orgasm crests.

Xavier! Your syrupy cry makes his ears ring. He's catching you, pressing you close and scooping up your melted body into his arms as the both of you slump back to the bed, already drained.

He chuckles tiredly, smoothing a peck onto your nose and cheeks as your release simmers; the pulsing pleasure finally become bearable. 

“I think… we may need to shower and change the bedsheets.”

Tiredly, you rub your nose with his, the icky, sticky feeling growing harder to ignore.

“Give me a few more minutes.” 

Wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, you bury your face in his chest, inhaling the scent of his pine body wash and musk.

Xavier exhales, stroking your hair. “Take as many minutes as you need, my little light.”

You closed your eyes, feeling more content than you had ever dared. 

Work, Wanderers, protocores… they all fade in the background in your Xavier’s arms. 

He comforts you from the world, shields you from the pain and trauma with his steady strength.

No matter the cost, you would give up anything to be like this with him forever—cocooned in safety and idyllic peace.

Though you knew in your bones that nothing in this world was permanent, you thought you would never be able to forget how Xavier made you feel. 

He was your slice of heaven here on earth; he was all yours.

And in the morning peace, you drift off again with the reassurance that if nothing else belonged to you, you were certain that his love did.

— i need tew munch him and swallow him writing about him is not enough </3 reblogs and feedbacks will give you smooches 💋

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