#I wanted more so badly but by the time they came out I was starting to loose interest

[galactic-magick]

Cosmic Love: Viktor/Machine Herald x Reader

Summary: You try to resist your corrupted lover, but you ache too much for his touch that you can’t refuse any longer.

Words: 1.0k

Warnings: SMUT, overstimulation, no pronouns but reader has afab anatomy

Author's Notes: As promised, here is the galaxy quaking, star bursting, 5th dimensional, cosmic anomaly Viktor smut. Takes place between when Jayce tries to kill him and when he goes through the full Machine Herald transformation. Hope you enjoy.

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He’s been calling to you.

You’ve been ignoring the echoes, ignoring the voices of those he controls. You told him you want no part of it, that you won’t stand by his side if he continues down this cultist path. But even still, he finds ways to continue begging you, sending his followers your way and speaking through them. He pleads for you to join him, to experience the higher awareness and power he has gained. But you must stay strong.

After several months, the cult followers completely lose their humanity, becoming lifeless white and gold husks akin to an army of mannequins. They all look the same, retaining no glimmer of individuality, only the great Machine Herald’s voice to be heard.

As expected, one of them attempts to gain your loyalty back once again, breaking into your house and talking as a mechanized version of the man you once loved.

“I give you one last chance to join me,” it says. “I want you by my side, my love.”

“Viktor...what you’re doing is wrong. You know I can’t do that.”

The form he possesses steps closer to you, metal fingers brushing your cheek. You shiver, but you don’t turn away. You’ve yearned for his touch again for so long, that even this form of him makes you question your answer. His fingers are placed so meticulously, gliding down your neck, your breasts, your hips. It’s so easy to imagine it’s Viktor’s face you’re gazing upon, covering up the blank slate that’s actually in front of you.

“If you won’t join me…” his voice rings clear in your ears. “Allow me to have you one last time.”

You squirm, begging every damn desire in your body to say “no” while the machine’s fingers drop ever closer to the space between your legs.

But you won’t say “no.” You want this as badly as he does, even if it means casting your better judgment aside.

“Please.” you moan.

He takes action at your consent instantly, picking you up like you weigh nothing and dropping you on the bed.

“Soon, love, I will show you all I’ve discovered,” his voice gives you chills while the white figure pulls off your pants and underwear. “But I must start with what you already know, mm?”

You nod and close your eyes, sighing heavily as two fingers tease your clit and slowly enter you. He curls them, pulsing them in and out, his thumb circling your nerves. He does it exactly like he used to, having memorized your body in such detail that he can unravel you through this other vessel. The touches are so like him, you almost forget he’s not really here with you.

You lose yourself to him like clockwork, humming as the machine’s hands crawl up to your face.

“Shall I show you what I see now, dear?”

His fingertips glow against your forehead, and you feel a shock through your system. You suddenly feel weightless, like your cognizance is no longer tied to a physical form. You see beautiful stars and nebula surrounding you, the city you came from now looking so small.

Then you see Viktor, ethereal with his hair aglow. His face is just as it used to be, his body free of worldly constraints. He takes your face in his hands again, something electric pulsing through them.

“You must understand, love,” he says. “This is my destiny. But I would hate to have to accomplish it alone.”

He caresses your form, every stroke and squeeze feeling like another orgasm. Whatever higher being or dimension your consciousness is in now, it’s too much for your physical body to process back home. It isn’t painful, per se, but it is incredibly overstimulating—eliciting more intimate sounds from your mouth.

Your fingers grasp onto his iridescent locks, screaming in ecstasy as Viktor continues to give you sensations you never thought possible. He makes love to you among the stars, your mind filling with the visions of an astral plane and glorious evolution beyond your comprehension. He wordlessly shares his dreams and desires with you and for you—a life of healing, immortality, and ascension. Stars burst around you, and your physical body has likely gone numb, with your current form not far behind.

“Viktor...it’s too much,” you cry out.

The sensations slow down, fading out of your body as you regain your ability to think again.

“This place does have quite the effect on the mind,” Viktor explains, pulling you close to him. “The longer you stay, the less overwhelming it becomes.”

“What is it doing to me?” you ask breathlessly, falling nearly limp in his arms.

“The feeble human psyche cannot grasp the transformation that must take place, and the body suffers from such extremes,” he kisses you softly, “If you are to join me, you must find me, and together we will complete the process.”

You stare into his heavenly eyes, your thumbs tracing his cheekbones, “How do I find you?”

“The Noxian has been keeping my physical body alive. You must go to her.”

“Viktor…” you exhale, his face leaning into your palm and kissing it. “I want to stay with you. I do. I just...all of this is so far beyond what I can understand…”

“I know, darling. I know,” he reassures you, running a hand over your hair, now golden just like his.

“Something just feels so wrong,” you admit. “I don’t want us to do things we’ll regret.”

He shakes his head, “Trust me, love. This is our destiny.”

Ignoring the shrieks of your conscience, you wrap your form around him, inhaling his lips desperately as you both plunge through layers of galaxies. Every nerve in your body is blaring with pleasure, chasing the high you had moments ago. It’s addictive—the sensations experienced as a cosmic power—and you realize now how Viktor could get so consumed by it. Your bodies aren’t limited to any constraints, intertwined and becoming one in every way. You feel him everywhere, his mind and matter melded with yours.

Indescribable pleasure washes over both of you in constant, unstopping waves. You feel his every thought, the need to speak quickly diminishing.

But you still yearn to hear his voice.

“Viktor?”

“Yes, darling?” his hands never leave you, again pulling you into his magnetic essence.

“I’m going to come find you.”

A smirk pulls at his lips, his voice going low.

“I look forward to it.”

[hitomisuzuya]

softdom Scara getting so much baby fever he breeds you nonstop to the point he's also a whimpering, lovesick, sweaty mess like bro I know he's definitely a top but I swear on my primogems that bastard whimpers when he has too many rounds I just want him to be stupidly in love and whimpering yknow 😔

scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. breeding kink. multiple creampie. soft dom!scara. praise. some minor degradation.

happy thanksgiving, everyone! this came kinda just came out 😳 i'd bet all the primos i have saved for citlali that this man whimpers and cums hearing i love you.

earlier this morning, scaramouche happened to overhear one of his subordinates proudly announce that his wife was pregnant. and that flipped a switch in him.

a switch that ultimately left you breathless and drooling, twitching and whimpering in pleasure with scaramouche's cum seeping out of your abused hole. shaking and trembling, he started to pull out of you, letting out a soft whimper seeing his cum seeping from your pussy.

"three...three and you are still so tight," he groaned, resting his weight on you and stealing your lips up in a deep open mouth kiss that stole the very breath from your lungs. "your pussy was made for my cock. fuck, you are perfect," his teeth nipped at your lips. the harder he made you cum, the more fuel it added to the fire.

your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head feeling his cock stretch you apart again. the consistency with which scaramouche bullied his cock into your sweet spot long since brought on spontaneous orgasms.

"i love you. i fucking love you so much, do you know that?" he moaned, panting as he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, pushing your knee up to your chest. "i'm gonna knock you up. i am going to marry you. just set the fucking date," he reached down to rub your throbbing clit, shivering as your body twitched in bliss.

"scara..scara," you moaned, your mind foggy. pleasure was nearly shattering your body. you reach your hand out to him, which he promptly took. intertwining his fingers with yours, drawing out his next few thrusts for extra stimulation on your sweet spot.

"that's right," he moaned shakily, squeezing your hand. "cling to me. fall apart for me," taking your other hand, he pinned your them down to the bed next to your head. "now, my wife. look at me with those pretty, pretty eyes and tell me how much you want me to cum inside you again," the better he felt fucking into you, the more to call you his wife.

your pussy clenched like a glove around his cock from his wonderfully excessive praise. squeezing his hands, you leaned up a little to steal a quick kiss. "cum inside of me, scara! i want you to so badly!" you plead, "let me give you children with your beautiful eyes and your scowl!"

scaramouche's cock pulsed, he almost couldn't believe how hard he still was after having emptied himself inside of you three times already. he didn't like losing. he was is a man on literal mission. he knock you up and lock you down.

"fuck, you are going to cum again, aren't you, slut?" he moaned, putting both hands above your head so he hold them down easily with one hand. he scrambled to find your clit again, tearing sweet mewls of pleasure from you as he pinched and rubbed your clit.

your body quaked, the pleasure of his cock scrapping and rubbing every sensitive pleasure you have in your pussy nearly made you limp.

your gasp of pleasure from the knot of your orgasm abruptly snapping apart sounded like heaven to him. having been deemed incapable and inadequate at birth, it is intoxicating for scaramouche to know that he, and his cock were capable of making you cum this hard.

"you need to be fucked fuller, you deserve it. i say so," he whimpered, squeezing your hands as his hips drove into yours. "my wife deserves it," he chuckled shakily seeing your watery eyes lit up. "you like how that sounds, don't you," he cooed, rolling his thumb around your clit in a way that made you see stars. "my pretty, pretty wife."

his words almost made you cum again, his relentless thrusts dragging out the pleasure of your orgasm. "inside, inside," you babbled, the deeper intimate connection of his fingers rubbing your knuckles while he fucked you sent you reeling. "you are the only one in the world for me. i love you," your words fell away in sobs of pleasure for a few moments. "i love you so much!"

hearing those sweet three words sent scaramouche's cock throbbing inside of you. his cheeks flushed hearing the whimper he could barely swallow. cum ribboned inside inside of you, mingling with yours in a squelching mess. "i don't know if it's going to be enough," panting, his hips slowed to a stop, but he didn't dare pull out of you.

"you can handle another, right?" he asked, making you look at him with your breathtakingly fucked out expression. he licked his lips, and shivered as you nodded.

[thelesbiancitizen]

On Women-Loving-Women and Building Our Culture.

a big problem I have with a lot of lesbians is that they want soooo badly for lesbian art and culture to be ~cool~ and ~epic~ and to ~go mainstream~ and they'll be crying and wailing abt the "lack of lesbian representation" ... yeah, in the mainstream. Cus NEWSFLASH. REAL lesbian art, art that's saying something important, will NEVER BE MAINSTREAM. Because mainstream media is built on a whole system of values that entirely excludes the female viewpoint by design. and ESPECIALLY so when it comes to women whose lives center around other women.

Most lesbians, including myself once upon a time, suffer from a massive cultural inferiority complex. It's why you see so many young females identifying as gay men, because they think the culture is way cooler, more glamorous. Cus gay men have money. Lesbians do not.

Lesbian cultural works are made with very little money. And they're made for a specific audience -- other women-who-love-women -- and so they don't cater to what mainstream / malestream values think are cool. Lesbian art particularly from the 70s / 80s (and onward) is following a completely different set of values. It's about clear communication, not obfuscation. It isn't about technique, it's about clarity. It's about bringing what is supposed to be hidden out into the open. It's about using whatever you can to say whatever you've got to say. It's earnest. It's genuine. It's affectionate. It's awkward. It's clumsy. It's a loving gesture. but sooooo depressingly many young women hate it and won't give it a second glance bc you are obsessed with male approval. You crave male approval of these artistic works and you know you'll never get it, you know men will just laugh and dismiss these works bc lesbian art makes men uncomfortable. Because it's so specifically female. It's coming from a different place. A female place. Aimed at other females. Men can't understand it.

And guess what? It doesn't fucking matter. It doesn't. There is TONS AND TONS AND TONS of incredible Lesbian art and cultural products that so many lesbians my age will scoff at and say it sucks bc it isn't "cool", you think it's "cringe", but you never look at why you it is you think that way. Lesbian artists today mostly suck because they're still trying to gain approval from male-dominated institutions, where masculinist value systems still reign supreme. They're not trying to say anything that's really of value to lesbians and continuing the growth and expansion of lesbian culture. They're disconnected from the culture that made it possible for them to be out and open in the first place. They've disowned the women who came before them and did all the messy, difficult work.

Lesbian artists who have made works in the tradition of the Lesbian feminist culture that started in the 70s are so fascinating, their work is very challenging, and really makes you look at things differently. Yet, this tradition is in danger of dying out bc the younger generations are not interested. Because it isn't "cool". Because these lesbians were politically engaged and knew how powerful it was to subvert patriarchal masculinist value systems with their art. But you just look at it and see "bad art". Hmm. Ever wonder why that is?

I'm mostly speaking of visual culture here, but also music, and poetry, too. We need to understand the value of having cultural works created By Lesbians For Lesbians. Eschewing masculinist values. Creating new vocabularies. Really listening to each other. Really trying to hear what we are saying. We need to do this or else Lesbian culture will really truly be dead in a decade or two. It'll just be women copying pornified culture and thinking that's what it means to be a lesbian.

We have to make art about our experiences as women-loving-women, we have to hear each other, see each other, and talk about what we are doing. We need to be having conversations about what we want Lesbian culture to be. And building upon the legacy of the women who came before. This is how we make meaning out of our lives; meaning that is self-determined. It's stupid to sit here and take whatever crumbs we are given from artists who still are trying to appease malestream audiences. Or wailing that there are no good lesbian representations in media. We need to represent ourselves. We need to represent our lives as we see them, as we live them.

We need to value the works that we create, for ourselves, and for each other. Put our powerful Lesbian voices at the center of everything we say and do.

This is how we will find each other. This is how we will banish our loneliness and hopelessness and cast out despair. We let our lights shine and we make room for each other. We've GOT to start having CONVERSATIONS ABOUT CULTURE.

Art scenes are like gardens. Every work of art is like a plant. What do we want to cultivate? What do we want to plant to feed ourselves and for the next generations of lesbians? It's all up to us. If we want new images, we have to create them. If we want new sounds, we have to make them. If we want new language, we have to invent it.

We as women NEED to make works of art that express how we feel about ourselves and each other. How we love each other. How we hate each other. What we mean to each other. What our relationships mean, what they really look like. How it really feels to try and fail and succeed at loving one another. When we are at the center of our own worlds. We have to stop marginalizing our own experiences and voices inside our heads and JUST SPEAK.

Every piece of art you make adds your voice to a lineage of ideas. It becomes a part of a historical narrative. It means we are here. Our work is important. We have the right to speak on and engage with stories, narratives, systems of values, concepts, and ideas. And if you can, you should. If you have the opportunity, you're lucky. Do it.

Speak.

Say something. Say anything. Be honest. Be messy. Be real. Make something.

CREATE, WOMAN!

We need to seriously engage with each other's ideas. We need to respect each other's intellect and artistic processes enough to let ourselves unfold. We need to quit arguing so much and PUT IT INTO ART. AND PUT IT OUT THERE. PLEASE!

BECAUSE I NEED TO HEAR YOU!!!!! AND I NEED YOU TO HEAR ME!!!!!!

We have nothing left to lose.

Maybe I'll start a magazine.

[kanyerealdaughter]

#EX BOYFRIEND

sexual content , masturbation (f,reader) , cussing , intercourse , creampie , *cum tasting a bit*

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right now you’re currently driving to your ex boyfriend suguru house. you have no clue how to handle it to be completely honest, you never been too good with emotions but you both left on good terms and everything but you just can't stop the need you feel him one last time.

you pulled into his driveway preparing yourself to get all your stuff and leave as quickly as possible. you walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. after a few minutes he appears in the doorway, looking' sexier than ever. you were snapped out of the battle with your subconscious by his voices speaking out in a concerned tone.

" uh- you good..?"

" mhm, uh y-yeah, fine i just came to get my stuff remember." you replied weakly.

" well you're gonna come in?" he asked in his raspy voice, steppin' out of the way, letting me into his house.

you look over at the kitchen and remember all the times he fucked your from behind. so deep in you, so... rough. and the living room where he'd prop your legs up on the coffee table and eat you out. suckin on your clit…

your breathing picked up and you don't know what to do. your underwear is getting wetter by the second and you can't do anything about it... or can you? once the idea pops into your head, there's no turning back. you have to do it. you need to do it.

" um suguru can i use your bathroom?" you ask , pretending that you have to use the bathroom badly.

“ oh uh- sure. you remember where it's at right?" you nodded and headed off to the bathroom.

once you’re outta sight, you rush in, shutting and locking the door behind you. you don’t waste any time taking your jeans and underwear off. mmm you’re so wet… you don't even bother taking your shirt and bra off, you wanna make this quick.

you slowly insert your middle finger and it slides in with ease from all the wetness. you start to pump and move your hand. in and out. in and out. in...out. over and over. fuck it. you need this. you pick up speed, lifting your left leg up onto the sink for better access.

" mmm." you moan softly before putting your free fingers into your mouth to shut yourself up.

you can't be loud but it feels so good. you bite your knuckle harder in an attempt to hush yourself but it's useless. you move your hand quicker. the lightning fast speed of your fingers is amazing. you started to think of suguru. his big dick thrusting into you with quick speed. both of your skin hitting together because of his fast, hard pace.

" fuck." you muffled into your knuckles. his balls slapping against your ass cheeks. both of your moans and grunts are drowning out the others. you’re whimpering. you want to scream but you can't. you want him to fuck you so bad. you imagine him talking dirty to you even more.

" fuck, you like that i know you like it.

“ scream for me ma.." that was all it took to drive you over the edge.

" fuck yes..!"

you came all over your hand, hard. as much as you wish it were him you were cummin' for, you guess this will have to do. you clean yourself off realizing you’ve probably been in here for too long. you washed all your wetness and juices away from your hands, dried them and then went to leave.

as you opened the door, you found a very satisfied ex boyfriend suguru getting off right in front of the door. either he didn't care if you saw or he hadn't heard you come out.

whatever the case may be, you didn't care. you suddenly felt hot again. you once more felt the urge to have him inside of you again. watching him get off because of your moans from the other side of the door really turned you on. you need to feel him in you, at least one more time.

as you watched him, you could feel your juices pooling up as they did before. bitting your lip, you reach out and touch his dick. he looks up at you and you could see his once big dark purple eyes. eyes darken.

he stops and in a blink of an eye, you're pinned up against the bathroom door. with a strong large hand over your neck, his lips dive towards yours, connecting in a passionate yet lustful kiss. it was harsh and forceful, making your knees go weak. if he wasn't holding you up you would have fallen.

your hand instinctively wrapped around his hard cock, pumping in an attempt to please him. a quiet moan could be heard escaping his lips, that were molded together with yours, sending a long satisfying shiver down your spine. i need him in you now.

" i need you." you said in between kisses.

" i'm glad you said that ma i need you too my dick hard.." he said as a smile crept up on his face.

and with that he pulled his pants up and picked you up, carrying you to his room. when we reached your destination, he threw you on his bed and began stripping.

starting with his shirt, then his pants, then his boxers. you both kept eye contact as you began to get undressed with him taking off your shirt along with your push up bra.

when you both were done, he crawled up between your legs pushing you up on the bed. he once again connected your lips as he moved one of his hands to your breast. he squeezed and rolled my hard nipple earning soft moans from you.

you started to whine, letting him know that you can't wait any longer. a smirk draws across his face while he moves his hand down to my heat, collecting some of your juices on his finger, he stops kissing you and puts it in his mouth. he moaned lightly at the taste of you causing your hips to buck up at the sight.

he looked down and grabbed his dick and started rubbing it against your slit. pushing it a little to your clit, your legs shook. you’re so wet that he accidentally slid in hard, slamming into you, causing him to groan at the pleasure.

" you're still so tight fuck ma." he said in a low whisper. you moaned in response his pace started off slow but then soon quickened as his heavy breaths you felt in the crook of your neck. his thrusting grew harder. the bed creaked and rocked with his and yours movements.

" u-uh yess!." you moaned. it feels so good his grunts fill the room along with your moans.

" fuck ma you been givin my pussy..?" he whispered groaning at the end of his sentence.

you shake your no.

" words mama." he groaned.

" no o-ohh fuck." you gained the confidence too say no. he smack ass leaving a handprint thrusting into you kissing your cervix fasting into you even more making you moan.

" tell me, who does this pussy belong to?" he said while lifting my legs up by his shoulders, fucking me deeper.

(yesss kinggg lmfaooo ignore this.)

“ y-you." you barely got out in between your panting and loud moans.

" louder." he demanded.

" y-you suguru you suguru FUCKK.! u-uhh so deep..!" you ended up screaming, causing him to smirk.

" mhm." was all he said.

" fuck. f-faster." you said wanting more. his pace quickened from what it was before as all you could hear was his and yours skin slapping together.

" n-nugh!" you screamed. he was so deep and big he filled you up kissing your cervix once again

" s-shit..!" your back arched as your felt your orgasm forming.

" i-im gonna c-cum!" he stopped causing you to whimper.

" no.. fuck why suguru..?" you whined. he didn't answer but instead flipped you over to where your ass was up in the air and your back was arched. face in the comforter.

suddenly there was a sting on your ass cheek. smack. the skin on skin contact of his hand colliding with your plump ass made you moan.

" you like that." he said with a smile forming on his face.

smack another hard slap echoing throughout the room, the sound bouncing off the walls. you moaned again, this time a little louder. without warning he slammed his dick back into your soaking wet pussy making you scream at the sudden pressure.

his thrusting was quick and hard just like before. your pussy throbbed. your ass slapped against his front, reddening your cheeks smack.

" ooh fuck!"

it feels too good smack. he continued his thrusting that soon became irregular and uneven, getting even more sloppy. he was close and so was you.

" cum for me ma. cum all over my dick mamas ." you couldn't hold on anymore. your orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave, but he didn't stop.

" ahh! f-fuck! fuck suguruuu!" his dick twitched inside you.

" mmm." he hummed.

“ scream my name again.” he said, his breath being just as scattered as his thrusts.

" suguru!" you screamed moaning right after.

" f-fuck ma..!" he stopped deep in you, filling you up with his hot spurts of cum. you shook and screamed into the comforter. you both stayed in that position catching your breaths for a few minutes and then he pulled out.

he cleaned up and then you both laid in his bed talking for about an hour until you finally decided to get dressed and head home. he stopped you right outside his front door by grabbing' your waist and pulling you into a kiss slapping your sensitive ass making you yelled out a yelp. he broke it off and tilted your head up to look at him looking him in his dark purple eyes.

" come back anytime you'd like and we can do this again ma." he winked at you but being all serious and then disappeared back into his house.

the drive home was silent. you didn't listen to any music, you just sat there thinking...

𖣂 KANYEREALDAUGHTER SPEAKS - old wattpad story.. since i couldn’t think of nothing.

words - 1.8k

» , ᴀ ᴋᴀɴʏᴇʀᴇᴀʟᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

copyright ©️. ᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ . «

[aemondapologistfrfr]

You Said You Have All Day?

michael gavey x ta!fem!reader 

Summary: You’re a TA in Michaels class and he can’t get you out of his mind. You always give him a perfect score until recently and you’re more than happy to explain why. 

Warnings: 18+ both parties are a lil obsessed w each other, swearing, nipple play, handjob, oral(f+m), p in v, unprotected, implied loss of virginity(not specified) 

Authors Note: uh the conditioning might’ve been really wild of me to use but 🤷🏼‍♀️ no bc watching this movie when it came out for ewan and then finishing it traumatized was such a treat 😌 this was a semi request from an anon that i wrote instantly bc i have zero chill! 

Word Count: 3.3k 

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When Michael found out this class met three times a week he was annoyed to say the least but when you took your seat next to the professor behind the desk and announced yourself as the TA he wished he picked a seat closer to the front. You were the best beginning and end of his week and getting to see you on Wednesdays just made him feel gluttonous. On the days he wasn’t guaranteed to see you he would walk by the classroom and watch you grade papers and every night you would appear in his dreams and he would wake up glad he had a single dorm. 

You’ve been constantly on his mind and watching you dutifully grade others' work turned him on to no end. Knowing you actually had a brain made his slight obsession worsen. You never left any marks on his paper besides 100/100. No dots or checks. No trace of you besides 6 numbers and a dash. Today when he sat down after collecting his paper his heart stopped at the 95/100 on the top of the paper. 

Impossible. He checked his work over twice. He scans the paper and stops as he sees your marking. His nostrils flare and clenches his fists on his desk. He had missed one number in the thousandths place. An absolutely fucking useless place. The hundredths place is just fine. More commonly used. He wouldn’t accept this. Everything else was perfect and five fucking points for one number. 

The rest of the class he stared holes into his paper at the marking you left behind. The one single red number that clashed with his black one. He looks up and sees the rest of the class packing up to leave. He grabs his bag and makes his way to the desk. He stares down at you as you continue to scribble on some idiot's paper by the looks of it. He hears the paper crunch in his hand and he starts to smooth it out and you look up to him with a jump. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.” you look up at him like you’ve been caught. “What can I do for you, Michael?” you tilt your head. His name on your tongue causes him to pause. You know his name? 

“Five points for one single digit? In the thousandths place.” the word like a curse on his tongue. He watches your face slightly crumble before you steel yourself.

“Yes. The answer is wrong.” you blink up to him and his eyes widen. 

“It is not. It was just one mistake. One digit.” he presses his paper on top of the paper you were currently grading. 

“The answer needed to be in the thousandths place. Therefore your answer is wrong.” you push his paper toward him and continue to grade the paper you started on. 

“It was not wrong.” his voice starts to raise and you set your pen down and look up at him. 

“What is it that you want me to do? It’s still an A. You’re still the smartest in the class if not the entire year.” you watch his face flush. 

He snatches the paper off your desk and storms out of the room. He throws the paper away in the nearest trash can and makes a line for his dorm. He throws his backpack on the floor and slams his door shut. He wanted to yell at you so badly and then you complimented him. Then he remembers how you said his name when you looked up at him for the first time. Fuck his mind was racing with the whole interaction and how that was the first time he spoke to you. 

He sits on the edge of the bed and starts the entire conversation over in his head from the beginning. The way you looked up at him with your doe eyes that he imagines looks at him the same when you’re on your knees. You calling him by his name had been a shock and he wants to hear it in many different ways that have his cock straining against his pants. The way you argued with him over one number and then called him the smartest in the class. 

He was infuriated with you and with himself. He knows he should’ve read the problem more carefully but five points is ridiculous. He also knows it’s not your fault and he shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. He groans, rubbing his face and falling back onto his bed. On Wednesday he plans to apologize to you hoping that you won’t hate him. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

Micheal’s palms are sweating as he walks to his morning class. He’s been jittery since he woke up and even got to the room early in hopes to catch you before the rest of his classmates show up but you weren’t there. The room starts to fill and once the professor starts to talk he can’t help but wonder where you are. As if on cue you slip through the door and his eyes bulge. 

You are wearing the lowest cut velvet track pants he’s seen and a matching skin tight zip up that rests above your navel. Your hair is thrown up haphazardly and you walk over to the professor quickly who exchanges hushed words with you before you take your seat. Michael can’t take his eyes off you and when you get up to grab the papers from the other side of the desk and he sees the word ‘juicy’ spread across your ass his mouth dries. 

For the rest of the class he imagines what kind of shirt you’re wearing underneath the zip up. His mind likes to think that you’re wearing nothing under there and that if he had the chance to tug on the zipper he would be greeted by your tits. How you would make such sweet sounds if he licked and teased your nipples. Not that these things would ever happen but he loved to imagine them. He just wished he waited to start this line of thinking until he got back to his dorm. He silently readjusts in his seat and goes over his apology in his head. 

He starts to lose his nerve the longer class goes on and the more curled over the desk you become as you grade. His eyes keep catching on your cleavage and the pen that you rest between your lips from time to time. Once class is dismissed he waits and walks down to the desk. He tries to calm his nerves but ends up just standing over you and staring down at you. 

“Yes, Michael?” you hum not even looking up. 

“I wanted to, um,” he clears his throat and you look up at him tilting your head. “I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I’m sorry.” he scrunches his brows. 

“It’s okay. I figured you would say something.” you set your pen down. 

“I didn’t even think you knew who I was.” he mumbles. 

“You’re the only person I give A’s too. I like to think of you as my best student.” his eyes snap to yours. 

“You don’t teach me anything.” his eyes darken. 

“Don’t I?” you tilt your head. “Have you heard of Pavlov?” he doesn’t understand why you’re talking about some old dead psychologist. “Every time you get your paper back from me it’s always a 100/100. Even if you miss the thousandths place from time to time.” you smirk and his breath catches. “So I knew when I marked you for it the first time you would come up to me.” fuck you don’t know if you should’ve said that. It was an insane thought when you had the idea for your paper but you figured if anyone would’ve appreciated the thought behind it it would be him. 

“You used classical fucking conditioning on me?” he looks at you baffled and amused. 

“Does it make it better if I say I’m using this for a paper?” you definitely shouldn’t have said anything. “But I won’t use your name or anything. It’ll be totally anonymous. I didn’t mean anything by it. I wanted the excuse to talk to you.” he listens to you ramble and decides you’re fucking crazy. But you did all of this to talk to him? He wishes he would’ve come up with something as clever and thoughtful. Did he really just think you conditioning him was thoughtful? “Michael?” your soft voice snaps him back to you. 

“Why do you want to talk to me?” he looks you over. 

“Because you’re smart and I have a thing for cute nerds.” you bite your lip and his eyes catch the motion. 

“Is this a joke? Another thing for your paper?” he studies you skeptically. 

“Choosing you was self indulgent.” you shake your head. “And whatever you want as compensation stays out of the paper.” you feel your cheeks flush at your boldness. 

“My compensation?” his mouth dries out thinking of all of the possibilities. 

“Technically it’s the reward in the scenario.” his head spins as you continue with this ridiculous psychology analogy. “It used to be the constant 100/100 even with miniscule mistakes. Now it can be,” you fingers grab your sweater zipper and he swears his heart stops. “What would you like your reward to be? Hm?” you lower it and he watches as he’s only greeted by more skin. The door starts to open and you zip your sweater back up. 

“Come back to my dorm.” his voice a plea. You’re pushing your chair back in an instant. “Really?” he watches you pack your bag. 

“Really.” you nod your head. You grab his hand and look up to him expectantly. “Lead the way.” he all but drags you down the halls. You chuckle, matching his quick pace, the anticipation settling as a warmth in between your thighs. You come to a stop in front of a door and he looks down at you, chewing his lip. 

“You’re serious?” he searches your eyes. 

“Very.” you lick your lower lip and he opens the door. You figured his dorm would be more neat but all of the papers and books spread around also add up. “Do you have a roommate?” you watch him lock the door and walk over to you. 

“No.” he shakes his head as he stops directly in front of you. He grabs your bag and sets it on the chair next to his. “Can I touch you?” you smile at his red cheeks. 

“I would like that.” his fingers are tugging your zipper down and his mouth waters as your tits spill out. 

He stares at your hardening nipples before bringing his hands up to engulf your chest. He takes your hard buds between his thumb and pointer fingers and rolls them, relishing in the soft whimpers that fall from your lips. He dips down and flicks his tongue against one of your nipples causing you to press closer to his mouth. He sucks the peak into his mouth and begins to lash his tongue against it. He kisses across your chest to your other nipple and you whine when his hot mouth encases it offering it the same attention. 

“These are more perfect than I imagined.” he murmurs against your chest. Your fingers brush through his hair as he sucks at you and he looks up to you taking in your blown pupils. He tugs the sweater the rest of the way off and stands up looking down at you. “Can I keep going?” you nod your head quickly. 

“Please,” you step closer to him and he walks you over to his bed. “I’m here for you Michael. Do whatever you want to me. I want you.” his knees threaten to give out. There are things he’s only dreamed about doing to an actual girl and now you’re here just for him. He lays you back on his bed, eyes watching your exposed tits the whole time. 

“You’re sure?” he watches you nod your head quickly. He slowly pulls the tie on your pants and you lift your hips for him to pull them off. He groans when he’s greeted by your glistening cunt. “Are you always bare like this?” he looks up, enjoying your blush. 

“No.” you shake your head as his fingers run up your thighs spreading them. “I was running late.” your breath catches as he runs his thumbs up the sides of your slit. “Mikey.” you whine and he repeats the action watching your face spread with pleasure. 

He’s never done this before and he refuses to admit that. Sure he’s indulged in adult films and magazines but nothing could have prepared him for you spread out and trembling on his bed for him. You dig into the sheets as he spreads you more before dipping down. There’s no fucking way this nerd is about to eat you out right? Michael looks you over, quickly deciding the small bud at the apex is your clit and flicks his tongue against it and the sounds that leave your mouth tell him he was right.

“Yes, fuck Mikey, yes.” his tongue flicks faster and he looks up watching you arch off the bed. Your fingers bury in his hair holding him against you and you let out a soft squeak as his metal frames press against your skin. He’s licking at you so feverishly your hips start to roll against his face. “Mm, please,” you gasp as your stomach tightens. Your legs squeeze around his head as you arch off the bed holding onto him as you come undone. It tears through you so unexpectedly that you’re left gasping. You never would’ve thought he could do that. 

“How are you feeling?” he looks up at your still shaking body. He hopes he doesn’t sound too desperate for your approval but he needs to know if he did that right and if you liked it. He watches you gather your thoughts and starts to press his lips against your body as he scoots up. His wraps his lips around your nipple and you whine holding him closer.

“You’re making me feel so good.” he smiles at your breathy words as he teases your peak with his teeth. “Will you fuck me? Please Mikey.” you push your chest up into him and he kisses over to your other nipple. He wants to fuck you so badly but he needs to spend some time with your tits. He’s so hard that he knows the second his cock touches your juices he’ll burst. 

“In a minute. Have some patience.” he clicks his tongue before pulling your nipple between his teeth. The soft sounds coming out of your mouth are not helping him calm down but he can’t get enough of them. You start to claw his sweater off and he lifts off to pull it the rest of the way off. Your fingers are quickly at his button and when you shove your hand down his pants he freezes. You smile as you wrap your fingers around his length and watch his cheeks flush. 

“Let me make you feel good too.” when your thumb swipes against his leaking tip he clenches his jaw using all of his restraint not to come all over your hand. He wants to say something but he doesn’t want you to think he’s too inexperienced. “You can come Mikey. I’ll wait until you get hard again. I have all day.” you lean up and press your lips to his neck as you slowly stroke him. 

“I’m not gonna last.” he says through his teeth. You watch his stomach flex as you tighten your grip and you suck harshly on his shoulder. “Fuck.” he twitches in your hand and his come starts to coat your fingers. He watches you pull your hand out with low lids and bring your fingers to your mouth. He feels himself start to harden already as you slowly lick at your fingers. 

“Finish taking off your pants.” you whine tugging at the material. He stands up and gets nervous suddenly and scrunches his brows. “Do you need me to help you?” you get off the bed and get to your knees in front of him. 

You start to tug them down and he chews his lip staring down at you as he kicks them the rest of the way off. Your hands reach for his hardening cock and he groans as your fingers wrap around him and you place soft kisses on the underside. He watches you with a heaving chest as you suck him into your mouth. If you keep this up he won’t be able to last long. You look up at him and he pulls you off. 

“I need to fuck you.” he pulls you up and gets you back onto the bed. He settles between your thighs and you pull him down to your lips. He’s surprised you’d want to kiss him too, any of this. When you move your hips his tip slides up your slit and you whimper. 

“Please,” you writhe beneath him. He lines himself up at your entrance and starts to push into you. He stills when he’s fully settled inside of you. The warmth and tightness of you is the most exquisite thing he’s ever felt. “More.” your soft plea has him beginning to rock his hips. 

He watches your tits bounce with every thrust and he leans down to wrap his lips around one of your nipples. Your legs wrap around his hips as he rocks into you and he’s focusing on you to prolong his own pleasure or this would’ve been done within seconds. Your soft gasps mixed with his name have his hips moving quicker. 

“Yes, Mikey,” you whine, feeling your pleasure start to coil. You know he might blush over it but you want to come around him and you need him to do one more thing. You grab his hand and bring it down between your thighs. “Please,” a soft word and he understands immediately. 

“I’m sorry,” his hips falter along with his demeanor. 

“No, you feel so fucking good I just want more. More please.” he pushes into you with new vigor as he starts to circle his thumb on your bud. “Mikey,” you cry out and he watches your face scrunch in pleasure. The second he feels you start to pulse around him he’s spilling inside of you. His hips softly grind into you as he fills you with his pleasure and the whimpers spilling from your mouth are making his high last forever. 

“You said you have all day?” he looks down at you panting. 

“I do.” you bite your lip as you feel him start to pull out. 

“Can I fuck you again?” he searches your eyes. “If you liked it of course. I should’ve- 

“You can fuck me for as long as you can stay hard.” you smile as he presses his lips to yours. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌

i have never wrote for him so i hope i did him justice 🫣🧎🏼‍♀️

taglist ✍️ 

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @1-fuzzy-squirrels @arya-brooke @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @moonymoo1 @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra @hiimava11 @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @fiction-fanfic-reader @povofjustme @multilover19 @alexxavicry @cedstars @fuckalrighty @mrsmunson-harrington @misspendragonsworld @nz2004 @ninihrtss

[qin-qin16]

cw.: Alphys x Reader, gn!reader, fluff, established relationship, reader is kinda flirty, its short but its cute… 

note: @twinribbonz @toffeebrews and I guess @vanglaggle?? The Alphys’s defenders

Reptiles are cold-blooded, a fact widely known across the world. Their scaly bodies aren’t made for freezing environments, especially when covered by a thick layer of snow – what cold-blooded creature would be foolish enough to live in a place its body wasn’t naturally built to survive in?

Apparently, your monster girlfriend.

"If you wanted to see me so badly, you could’ve just called, sweetie." You adjust the scarf around Alphys’ short neck, covering as much of her little yellowish scales as possible. "I don’t want to lose my girlfriend to hypothermia." As worried as you were, you couldn't help but let a hint of teasing slip into your voice, finishing with a smug smile as your face neared hers.

As expected, the lizard began to stutter — and if you were in a more cozy place, her stammering would probably be paired with a warm orange blush on her cheeks, shining through her yellow scales.

"I-I just came to r-return the books you le-lent me!" She answered quickly, her little eyes darting everywhere but your face. You didn't mind the lack of eye contact, not when your gaze was busy admiring the figure in front of you.

Alphys was bundled up from head to toe, with a fluffy hat hiding part of her natural crown and layers of clothing keeping her warm against the cold — her plump tail even wrapped in a special sock covered in white polka dots. In her hands, she held a small stack of books — one of them with a slightly dented cover, you noticed.

Perfect. Your hands moved from the scarf down to the collar of her coat, adjusting the edges to protect her little neck better — who were you kidding? Your fingers merely played with the fabric between them as your gaze drifted over her yellow face (or what was visible behind those round glasses).

"Yeah?" It slips out softly from your mouth as you feel your smile soften. "Thanks, sweetheart, but next time, just call me. I'll come wherever you are, okay?" You don’t think twice before giving her snout a gentle squeeze with your fingers, watching her let out a small, surprised squeak.

"You know I hate it when you do that..." Alphys retorts, scratching her snout, but you can’t help but notice the not-so-subtle wag of her tail.

"No, you don’t hate it." You take the books from her covered hands, noticing that the tips of her gloves were made from a tougher fabric — likely to prevent them from tearing due to her claws, which, even though rounded, still did quite a bit of damage. "C’mon, get inside. We can finish that anime we started last week." The moment you mentioned it, Alphys’ face lit up, her little eyes practically shining like tiny stars.

Truly perfect.

[maxdibert]

okay, yes, snape suffered a lot but he also made his students suffer a lot. do you know what it must have been like for all those kids to be constantly humiliated??? if you like comparing with real life so much, what would you think of a real adult who abuses their power to feel better at the expense of children??? snape fans always come up with all kinds of excuses, but when it comes to the topic of his abuse towards his students, you always stay silent, and that's because it has no forgiveness.

Severus’s role as a dysfunctional adult is honestly pretty amusing to me, especially because while I never experienced bullying from peers or equals, I grew up in an environment full of wildly dysfunctional adults. On top of that, I now work on legal cases involving even more dysfunctional adults. And, to make it even better, while my classmates never gave me grief, attending a private Catholic school in the 2000s meant teacher-on-student violence was pretty much a daily occurrence. Not just at school—I've also had some truly awful professors at university. So, I get firsthand what it’s like to have authority figures who are supposed to guide and protect you but act like an absolute pack of jerks.

Here’s an unpopular opinion: if I compare my personal experiences with dysfunctional adults and terrible teachers, Severus is practically a lamb. I’ve witnessed some insane things. There was a case at my school where a teacher bullied three siblings (in different grades) so badly that their dad came to the school and physically beat the teacher up. And honestly? The guy deserved it. I’ve seen old-school priests handing out slaps. I’ve had a teacher in his late 30s openly flirting with 17-year-old students. I’ve had teachers who didn’t just throw out a sarcastic remark—they flat-out called us “idiots,” “morons,” "dickheads", "assholes", “worthless,” or said things like, “You’re all going to end up mopping floors because you’re useless pieces of crap.” Fun times with Mr. Antonio.

There was one teacher who made students stand up one by one so he could critique their outfits in front of the entire class, piece by piece, like he thought he was Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada. Another handed out nicknames that were humiliating and outright cruel. Or that elementary teacher who also taught catechism and would call up children who were not going to take their First Communion (this happens at 8 or 9 years old) to the front of the class and publicly ask them why they didn’t want to embrace Jesus Christ. She would even ask if they thought their parents didn’t love them because they weren’t letting them do the same as their friends. Or the second-grade teacher who called a boy up to the board because he didn’t know a multiplication table very well and started singing a mocking song in Spanish that goes, “Fulanito tururú, que no sabe ni la u” (basically calling someone slow-witted).

Then there was the fourth-grade teacher (9-10yo) who had a particular grudge against one of my classmates and kept threatening to lock him in places or scaring him by saying he was going to throw him out the window. The English teacher, who, when we were 14 years old, locked us in a classroom, made us skip lunch, and kept us there without eating until 5 PM. The technology teacher, a 50-year-old man with a very hands-on approach towards the girls in first and second year of secondary school (12-13 yo). And I could go on and on.

So yeah, I’ve seen some wild stuff in classrooms, and trust me, you don’t need to explain the trauma bad teachers can cause—I’ve had my share of them. And none of it is going to make me like Severus any less. If anything, the stuff he does in the books feels like 1% of the madness I’ve seen play out in real life.

[bulkyphrase]

Post-CACW Stony: a fic rec list

I've been on a Captain America: Civil War kick lately, and since I know that Steve-friendly CW Stony fic can be hard to find, I've put together a rec list!

I am thoroughly team cap, but these range from being anti-accords to just not getting into the issue, and all are Steve-friendly as long as you can accept a lot little loving Steve-whump.

Atlas by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 11,505 words)

Summary: They don't hear each other.

Eigengrau by vorkosigan (@the-vorkosigan) (Teen And Up Audiences, 16,811 words)

Summary: Tony is captured; he doesn't know by whom, or why. He doesn't know how much time has passed since. What he knows is, he can now hear something in the adjacent cell, and that 'something' sounds a lot like Steve Rogers.

Nights When the Wolves Are Silent, and Only the Moon Howls by Cluegirl, Defiler_Wyrm (@cluegrrl) (Mature, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, 77,612 words)

Note: has a Stucky element too, but the relationship between Steve and Tony is the main focus.

Summary: “Could you drop all that stoic shit and be my freaking-the-hell-out wingman for just like, five seconds here?” Steve wasn’t sure he could think of anything he wanted less to do than to freak out about his wounds just then though, so he reached across his chest and gingerly patted Sam’s clenched knuckles. “It’ll be fine,” he promised, believing it. “Serum’s handled worse.” “You know, I actually believe you,” Sam allowed after a long second of glaring. “Which is deeply alarming, considering how much of your connective tissue I’ve touched in the last 4 hours. Now you wanna tell me what Russoff’s men did to you that made it look like you got mauled by a bear?” Steve flinched, then breathed the memory down to size. “Not a bear,” he murmured. “Wolves.”

More below the cut!

(trust me when i say) i'll get back to you by machi_kun (@machi-kun) (General Audiences, 1,549 words)

Summary: “Me and Rogers are not on speaking terms anymore.”

An Infinite Number Of Monkeys At Typewriters (Or, Steve and Tony Finally Get It Right) by JenTheSweetie (@jenthesweetie) (Mature, 18,864 words)

Summary: Tony blinked up at the face staring down at him. This was impossible. This was definitely 100% not possible, he had not just started giving a good morning handy to - “Steve?” After the events of Civil War, Tony and Steve wake up in bed next to each other in an alternate universe. It goes about as well as you'd expect it to.

And Miles to Go Before I Sleep by Cluegirl (@cluegrrl) (Mature, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 152,765 words)

Summary: They all made mistakes. They all have regrets. They all have nightmares, suspicions, and questions they'd like to ask. And they all left business behind them that was never quite finished. This is the story of how the Avengers ask those questions, get their answers, and come together like fucking adults to make things right again.

Bring Him Home by seventymilestobabylon (@seventymilestobabylon) (Explicit, 13,769 words)

Summary: Tony misses Steve very badly after the Accords. Some days he deals with it better than other days. (a fic featuring the booty call flip phone, minor kidnappings, and time jumps between chapters because the election has been happening and my brain has been too mush to make a proper plot)

Conjugal Visits by xtricks (Explicit, 4,252 words)

Summary: AU: Steve Rogers gets captured fairly soon after Civil War and sent to the Raft. Tony discovers that trying to appease your enemies doesn’t work and ends up a prisoner too.

Down Came the Rain by captainoutoftime (@captain-outoftime) (Explicit, 75,274 words)

Summary: A mission goes badly for Natasha, who is discovered de-aged to three years old. She recognizes no one, but every kid knows Captain America. When Tony grudgingly makes a call, Steve makes good on his promise to answer. Steve has to work together with Tony to take care of a traumatized child and figure out how to turn their itsy bitsy spider back into a Black Widow. Neither of them really want to talk about what happened in Siberia, but living in close quarters, they have to come to some sort of peace - even if it means addressing some feelings they'd rather not admit to having. As they work together to solve the problem of a re-emerging Red Room, Steve uncovers something he never expected to find again: family.

Hating Steve Rogers by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 16,243 words)

Summary: The thing about hating Steve Rogers is that it shouldn’t be easy - but it really, really is.

I Have Questions by YourFadedGlory (HisNameWasAce) (@yourfadedglory) (Not Rated, 2,808 words)

Summary: There is only so much that Steve can carry. His legs quiver and his heart aches, he looks skyward, and in a startling moment of clarity he lets the shield go. Gouged and battered, it rings like a bell when it hits the stone floor. He wonders for a split moment if it will weigh on Tony the way it has weighed on him.

The Crying Game by fohatic (@fohatic) (Explicit, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 36,403 words)

Summary: Steve Rogers stared at the dimly glowing digital screen of the little burner phone, rereading the text message as if it might somehow give away something he missed the first dozen times he scrutinized it. His frown only deepened, though, brows drawing together with consternation as the 88 characters only left him with an even more ponderous sense of uncertainty. If you meant what you wrote, I'll be at the Swissotel Sarajevo, 4/18. Presidential Suite. 9pm. Come alone. ...Nearly a year after Steve and Tony's fallout—and only weeks after press rumors that Tony and Pepper's engagement was inexplicably called off—Steve gets a message on the dedicated burner phone. Despite his instinctive reservations, he's compelled to answer the mysterious call. An approximately canon-compliant story.

the hope that kills you by meidui (@meidui) (Mature, 1,227 words)

Summary: Steve used to go on so much about freedom and choice. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. Some of the freedom he loved was big, big enough for him to lay his life down for over and over, and some of the freedom he loved was small, like the wind in his hair when he took his motorcycle out, but now he has to sob and take it when Tony sucks a deep flowering bruise where his prison uniform couldn’t possibly cover and whispers in his ear, “Who’s gonna help you now? Where are you gonna run?”

live for the hope of it all by meidui (@meidui) (Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, 1,880 words)

Note: This is a sequel to the hope that kills you

Summary: “You can keep me here, can’t you?” Steve asks a little desperately as Tony kneels over him, spreading himself out all the better for Tony to take. He must have really hated his cell on the Raft, Tony thinks before he loses himself in Steve’s body, and for a little while, everything is the same as it has been for the past six months. It’s only after, in the dark and quiet of his own bedroom with Steve sprawled sleepy and heavy across his chest that Tony realises— This is their cell now.

The Phone by AvengersNewB (@avengersnewb) (Mature, 9,039 words)

Summary: Tony hates the flip phone Steve sends him, but he keeps it close at all times, and it never rings until it finally does and the news might help put things into perspective - Captain America : Civil War fix-it. or The phone can't take the place of your smile. [podfic added as chapter 2]

the things we invent when we are scared by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, 18,305 words)

Summary: Steve is trapped in a dream machine, programmed to make him believe he's living his happiest fantasy. Tony goes inside to wake him up, but what he finds is a lot more complicated than he expected.

there's nothing but blue skies by Meatball42 (Mature, Major Character Death, 647 words)

Summary: “This isn’t good,” Steve said grimly.

[mooniemilkieway]

Laughing Jack Headcanons Part 2

this is literally my character app lmfao I've been coming up with ideas about him since I started fangirling (badly) for him again so let's go.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

(gif/animation by @/ijustwannahavefun)

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

★。＼｜／。★

⛧ Laughing Jack is essentially corrupted by Lucifer to be used as a weapon to obtain his vengeance on God for casting him out. When an angel was traveling the Jack-in-the-Box to Isaac, Lucifer sent one of his demons to attack the angel and put a "curse" on the box. This could explain why Laughing Jack-even before Isaac abandoned him-seemed to be murderous as he mutilated a cat when him and Isaac were playing outside.

⛧ LJ does have more of an "virtuous" voice. He has a gentle, almost father like, voice. It's usually for when he wants engage with someone he genuinely likes or if he wants to calm someone down. However, don't let this deceive you as it could be because of manipulation. Once he starts showing his true motives, his voice would become more sinister.

(His "innocent" voice headcanon that being Sebastian Michaelis: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OgBWOTtTp4Q)

(His "malicious" voice headcanon that being Alex Brightman's Beetlejuice: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QMrt9demNeA)

⛧ He takes interest in porcelain harlequin dolls. He was first introduced into making them around the late 1900s when he was targeting one of his victims and their brother was a merchant for harlequin dolls. Obviously LJ killed his victim and the brother because they were scamming and being evil by abusing their nephews and based on his new hobby, he captured their souls and sealed them in two porcelain harlequin dolls he created. They are both in a small, glass display in on of LJ's carnival tents.

⛧ Relating back to the previous one, Laughing Jack doesn't kill innocent children or people for that matter. Sure, he may scare or tease you, but he would never lay a finger on you unless if you are that of vile soul. Especially if you abuse children.

⛧ Laughing Jack loves studying astronomy. Whenever he walks outside on a full moon with stars aligned in the night sky, he would always wonder what it'll be like to travel across the galaxy. He even thought about if there's other life forms on different planets. This can explain why he is more stronger magic wise during the full moon period.

⛧ He is also a writer. When he began writing was as the same time Isaac was still being homeschooled. He learned how to do cursive writing. He would definitely write letters either warning someone about the dangers that lie ahead of them or would write a threatening one to his victim.

⛧ Laughing Jack has photophobia or has sun-sensitive eyes. This is most likely because he has been stuck in a dark, enclosed area for almost 13 years. He can technically be in sunlight but he'll have discomfort. So if you want to get away from him just shine a really bright flashlight in his eyes. One of the people Laughing Jack was protecting noticed this and offered him a pair of their old glasses because they had the same condition. LJ does wear them but only when no one can see his as he doesn't want to seem "vulnerable."

⛧ He is also very...old fashion. He prefers listening to music by a vinyl and a record player and doesn't understand the concept of technology or what the new generation is into. He is also very concerned about the "Get Alpha" slang...

⛧ If Laughing Jack gets stabbed or has one of his limbs cut off he could easily attach it back by sewing that area with just needle and thread and wrap it with his iconic bandages and it'll function like normal.

⛧ He loves the snow. Especially when it's at night. He finds it very magical and would take someone out with him to a snowy forest so they could have a walk and talk to each other about their deepest feelings.

⛧ His scent is that of a victoria sponge cake. It is actually a strong smell that you probably wouldn't even think it came from him.

⛧ For funnies, yes Laughing Jack does know all of the Sanrio characters.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖꩜

[enruiinas]

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ They really should have started with this, he reflected in hindsight. Words may not have come easy upon the redhead's surprising arrival, but the language that passed between them when Law's lips pressed against Nami's once more was something no amount of time could take away from them.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ Far more than any spoken word might do, the sense of overwhelming relief Nami's body provided as it melded against his was all the answer the surgeon had needed. No, she was not mad at him, and no, he wasn't the only one who'd hoped this moment might happen: Law could feel in every brush of the redhead's lips against his own - some part of her had hoped there might still be a chance of salvaging what had flourished and bloomed between them all those weeks ago. Despite everything that had happened and whatever voices in their heads had tried to tell them it was too much to hope for. 

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ And yes, (if the way she pressed her nimble frame so eagerly against him were any indication), she did want him here. His mouth glued to her own; his hands to wander elsewhere and map out every change the months had made to the body he'd worshipped so tenderly the last time he had seen it -

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ But as eager as he was to oblige her, tattooed hands nearly itching with the need to explore every inch she was willing to give him, there was some part of the surgeon-in-training, however miniscule, that liked to think he had learned a thing or two from the last time. Things about moving too quickly. About losing one's self in the physical desire for another only to wake up alone a few days later and spend every night that came after wondering if it had ever even mattered in the first place.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ Everything inside of him wanted to believe her. That it was more than physical desire or her hormones that had Nami molding herself against him. But as badly as he longed to touch her again, to keep kissing her like this until both were breathless with it, he was going to tear himself away from her. He had already decided - was already dreading the moment he'd talked himself into when he would break from those perfect, plump lips and leave the woman to her shower for both of their best interests.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ Because no matter how badly he wanted her, he would take it slower this time. He would be patient because he knew it would be worth it in the end. Just as soon as Nami knew for certain what she wanted, and Law could take her word for it without wondering how much of it came from the hormones wreaking havoc on her body than from genuine affection, it would be worth it to take this slowly--

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ But just as he'd made up his mind to step back from her, Nami broke the kiss for him. Could she feel the way his heart sank in his stomach the second she drew apart from him? Or the way the entire world seemed to come to a sudden, screeching halt when she drew back to tell him the only thing he had ever wanted to hear from her?

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ Heart thundering in his ears and all plans of withdrawing to the living room forgotten, for several long moments it was all the man could do to simply stare at her. His cheeks were flushed with color and his hands came to a stop as far as he'd let them wander, to the curve of her bare sides beneath her ribcage.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ I love you.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ You are my home.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ Just like that, Law could not have dragged himself away from her if he tried. There was nowhere he might have gone - no living room to return to - no universe beyond the woman who stood before him awaiting an answer he could not muster. There was no running water. No fear of waking up to empty bedsheets beside him in the morning. There was only Nami and those eyes that drew him in like gravity, and the need to make certain he had heard her correctly and not simply imagined the words he'd so ardently desired.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ Voice soft as a whisper, Law drew back away from her, just far enough to gauge for any sign of uncertainty in her features as he asked her carefully, as if he needed to be sure before he could decide what step was to follow, ❝Are you sure about that? You're sure that it's not just...❞ Gaze slipping away from hers, he dragged one hand rather pointedly to the curve of Nami's bare midriff. ❝This talking? Because if you're worried I'll change my mind if you don't, I won't. It doesn't have to be this way - like this,❞ he added, gesturing at their newfound proximity ❝If you don't want it to. It doesn't have to be anything, I'm not gonna change my mind about this. But if that is what you want, I need to hear you say it again. Are you sure this time?❞

Within the span of a breath and moment it took Law to recollect his mouths, the ginger was almost sure she could read his mind. As if all she needed to do was take a moment and push her own fears regarding the situation they'd found themselves in from Nami's inability to communicate. Or her tendency to act in rashness from time to time.

In the furrow of dark brows she recognized once again that she wasn't doing the best at communicating- She thought it was obvious- That there was not a world in which she could ever be mad at him- Not really. Making light of the situation only caused orange brows to shoot up in return before meeting in the middle. Had she been more clear, Law might have realized that no such words were needed.

She was already home. This place that stood in time, waiting for her return as if she were simply away on vacation, due to return home. Homesick. The word hit her like a ton of bricks. A word that had been on the edge of her tongue for months- Nami had not just been heartbroken, she'd been homesick. Which explained the strange comfort found upon Law's couch, surrounded by a scent that was wholly him.

I missed you.

Three words repeated over and over in her head with each quickened beat of her heart from the sensation of Law's lips on her own for the first time in months. Imagining this moment and it happening were very different after all. It was perfect. Maybe when they retold the story it wouldn't have taken place in the bathroom, but it was perfect to her. Butterflies erupted in her stomach, through her heart and releasing every thought that that'd crossed her mind in the last handful of months without him in her life.

Eyes fluttered closed and Nami pressed her body wholly and completely to Laws. Melding against him, Nami offered her body so that he might feel and appreciate the newfound curves to her body in an entirely different light- If he so chose to, that was.

“Law-” A breath of his name, as the next words tumbled out. So many times she thought them, but not once did Nami allow herself to utter them. Not even to herself or their baby. They were words meant entirely for his ears and his ears only. “-I love you. You are my home."

[plusvanity]

Thanks to your blog — that I discovered randomly — I got sucked into the whole Mayhem lore. 🥲 I got the general order and gist of the things (especially around the whole mythos that people build over the years) but there is one thing that I can't stop thinking and it just bothers me.

So, we all already know that Varg and Øystein start as friends, good ones at that. Varg admires Øystein meanwhile Øystein thinks they share the same vision music wise, they burn churches together, he defends him from the press (and generally TO ME, it seems like it was Ø doing the heavy lifting and all the work in this friendship but whatever) and so on; until Varg's opinion of him shifted all of a sudden: Øystein became full of flaws, or only flaws at that point, and the tension arises. Many people spoke about how they were kind of fighting for dominance of the BM scene, but really, how much is this a factoid? Yeah Varg can brag alllll he wants about how Øystein was jealous because he was becoming more popular, but to me it's more that Ø was just annoyed by his behaviour, he did not feel threatened of being 'dethroned'; it reads like a fantasy of Varg (that besides, came out of nowhere and all of a sudden in the scene meanwhile Øystein was already a well established personality). I also do not really agree on the stance that Øystein was a megalomaniac, but I'll put that aside.

Varg at a certain point says that he 'listened to a call' where Ø was talking about how he wanted (and would) kill him. Is this even true or pulled out from his ass to justify himself? I only found one source that mentions briefly that he THOUGHT about 'getting to him first' but A) he never really wanted that nor was violent and B) it was a private conversation that got out after his death, and I'm referring to Mortiis.

Either way, it does seem that Øystein was a bit preoccupied when it came to Varg. He wanted him out and most importantly, far from himself. There is also what I'll label as a rumor that Ø was agitated after hearing that one clairvoyant (sprinkle of salt). So why would he EVER open the door to him that night? It certainly was weird and he knew that Varg was dangerous, hence why, among other things, he wanted to put him in jail. And even Varg admits that Øystein was clearly uncomfortable seeing him. Would Varg have killed him even if Øystein never opened that damn door (oh, how I wish!), or would his impulsive anger cool down?

Varg and Øystein started as friends because Varg was looking up to Øystein. I have no doubt that Varg was putting up a mark at first to seem more likeable, to get closer to Øystein and eventually become relevant in the Black Metal scene since back then he was a nobody and Øystein was a well-established personality between their friends. As time progressed, Varg's admiration turned into jealousy and envy since he was an undisclosed egomaniac and wanted to have what his 'mentor' had. Their fight for dominance is not a rumor. It is a fact that led to Øystein's tragic end.

No one can blame Øystein for getting sick of Varg's bullshit and giving him the taste of his own medicine by talking badly about Varg's on his back. I believe their animosity was going back and forth because I think I'm one of the few people who believe that Øystein had a bit of an ego too, because after all he was leading a brand new music scene and he was entitled to his position. I don't necessarily think there is something bad about this because after all he was the one (together with Pelle) who built their own, unique style. Whether he really felt threatened by Vikernes or not, we can't tell for sure.

Varg will use everything in his side of the story to make people believe that he was right all along in what he did and not only that, but he even 'did the right thing' by his delusional, egoistic and envious standards, so, my suggestion is to believe anybody else but Varg. You cannot tell what is real and what is fiction, including the call that he pretends he heard. I would say (with indulgence) that 90% of what he states is pulled straight of his ass. He is a nothing but a pathological liar and that's it.

I believe that Øystein was, to a certain extent, having the thought of Varg doing 'something' against, but when all they ever did was throwing empty threats, how could Øystein be sure that this time Varg means business? He wanted Varg out of his life, that's for certain. Vikernes' actions cause him bad publicity and his shop, Helvete, to close.

Why Øystein opened the door that night, I can only speculate the most plausible answer. It was 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning and he woke up from his sleep, too tired to realize how late it must've been, and answering the door came as an automatic reflex. He didn't know who was waiting on the other side and he was surprised to see Varg there. In retrospect, Øystein would've had the chance to put up a better fight if he wasn't taken by surprise like this, but after all, Varg had a knife on him and this was the surprise element that, if you don't have an equalizer, you've already lost the fight unfortunately.

Varg must've been a madman to drive 5-6 hours in the middle of the night from Bergen to Oslo to kill. I don't think that not having that door open, you would just shrug and be like 'Well, that's it, folks. I'm going home'. No, he would've find a way to get in. It's the adrenaline that brought you there that won't allow you to leave even if you would somehow realize that what you do is gonna cost you a lot of trouble. The impulse is too strong, you can't just walk away simply.

I also wish Øystein never opened that door, but I guess we all wish that.

[rosicheeks]

🙃

[hxtties]

kiissme​ :

          “I…” she started, an odd little laugh escaping her lips as she shook her head. “I… God, I dunno, I dunno,” she admitted, her walls squeezing around the girthy toy so tightly. Her body wanting to cum so badly and yet, somehow, not wanting to reach her orgasm, not knowing how big it would be — but also aching for it with her entire being. Her head was swimming already, halfway lost to the pleasure of it all, what would happen when she reached it? Megan’s words came to her and she nodded immediately, “So much, too much, fuck,” again, her words mingled with an odd little laugh to them. But did she want to get off of it? No. Not even a little bit, because she did want to cum.

          Right at that moment, the other woman’s words were her whole world, her whole reason for existing at that moment. It made sense, it was encouraging, fueling her to her next moments because fuck it all sounded so good. Her hips still twitched at the stroke of Megan’s fingers against Faye’s own clit, oversensitive and hurting but in such a way it felt good to hurt. A please don’t stop kinda good to hurt. Teeth bit down hard on her own bottom lip, Megan’s words sounding like a spell fueled by her own desires. Once again, she nodded, quick and desperate and slowly, her hips started again. Her thighs and cunt already a wet mess, a strained moan pushed past her lips, god, how slick her movements were right then, eyes shutting tight.

          Her cunt ached, clenching around the toy so desperately. The tip of it rubbing against her g-spot so nicely that Faye felt herself sob of joy. Doing her best to rise and fall against it, just small little motions, hands reaching and grasping at Megan’s shoulders. “God, don’t leave me… Don’t leave me,” she whined. To think she had wanted to attempt this on her own, so cocky and sure she could handle it, how foolish that all was. The sound of her sopping cunt practically sucking the toy cock filled her ears and encouraged her to move a bit faster, chest heaving with the effort. Forceful shivers running through her, the head of the cock hitting her just like that.

          She was gasping, moaning, crying out as the pleasure rippled through her, body begging for more and she obliged. Bouncing on the toy cock harder, faster, not knowing how else to go about it. Feeling something building within her, sparks of it flashing behind her eyes, “Shit, that feels so… Fuckin’… g o o d.” The words sobbed out, feeling herself close so frustratingly quick. Unintentionally edging herself this entire time, but now, with Megan, having it in her to push through. With the feel of her touch on Faye’s clit, she felt she could do it now, pushing herself down on that glorious toy cock, she felt it. Closing in on her, body shuddering, that familiar white heated pleasure coursing through every inch of her. “Cum, cum, cumming, now, now,” she cried out, holding onto her roommate, the pressure mounting on and on. Her breathing desperate and panting, every thought slipping away and only one remained: she was cumming, screams of ecstasy filling the room. She grasped onto Megan tighter, kissing her lips, her jaw and buried her face into her neck as she went faster on that cock, feeling it — screaming into her neck as she felt it explode within her and the RUSH of hot, wet, juices released and drowned that beautiful toy.

          The realization of what happened hit her, and a relieved cry escaped her, body shaking as she didn’t stop but only slowed down. Riding the cock slow and steady through it, making her hips twitch and walls squeeze the toy like a vice. Feeling the heated sticky wetness along her thighs, knowing it was a right mess on the floor but not even caring. “Fuck, fuck fuck…” she groaned against her neck, kissing, biting and sucking at the flesh. “Jesus fuck, I did it… I did it… Oh, fuck,  I did it…”

              That part about how you’ll never truly conquer something so unbelievably massive? Megan means it. Every. Single. Time. Every second spend being stretched to such a godly degree that can’t be achieved any other way will simply destroy you. Further drive you to ruin. Get you utterly addicted. Pun intended. Once you start, you’ll have a hell of a time stopping. But you will stop. Eventually. If only because you’re too exhausted, your body to spent, that you can’t bring yourself to do much other than be sprawled against whatever surface you fall onto in the heap you’ve been reduced to. Barely breathing, drenched in sweat and your own juices. 

              It was already plenty obvious that the redhead was struggling and then some. The whimpers, the twitching, the jerk of her hips was proof enough of that. Not to mention that Megan had been there herself more than enough times to know what it must be like for others to take such a task on. The way Faye clung to her in desperation in of itself was all the confirmation she needed. She couldn’t help but smirk to herself a little, listening to Faye all but beg her to stay. The sensations clearly growing more and more overwhelming by the second.

                 Megan didn’t stop teasing her clit, of course. She’d slow down the pace every once in a while, but the pressure of her fingertips didn’t lift off of the other for a second. Her other hand began groping at Faye’s ass while she was all too eager, all too happy to drink in every last scream and sob that passed her roommate’s lips. Every last shake and tremble. The feeling of her already dripping against her fingers and onto the floor. “Look at you, taking it so deep already.” she’d hum, figuring that Faye was going to end up exploding any second now. “Keeping yourself going, even though it’s clearly too much for you. You need it badly, don’t you?”

                    Well, evidently, she did. Because it wasn’t much longer before Faye started picking up the pace. Damn near slamming herself on that incredible size despite being clearly overwhelmed.  Not much longer before she was burying her face in Megan’s neck, screaming out as she finally hit her peak, exploding hard. “There it is...” she’d observed, licking her lips as she could feel that splash of that heavy gush against her, as Faye kissed and sucked on her neck, still grabbing at her ass in the meantime. 

[valeriele3]

I caved in

Got Asmo in one of those free single pulls <33

Why am I so broke tho T-T

Also why am I kinda glad that I’m not like..Alone when it comes to quitting OM dhskhssk

I’m dying at the amount of lessons though..

80 lessons..And I’m at around 30+

[moonlust-demon]

.

[apathyfairy]

i spent 3 months watching gilmore girls and i finally finished it and a year in the life and then netflix is like hmm what should we recommend... gilmore girls season 1 episode 1 is starting in 3 seconds