#I'm putting this in the edit tag I don't care

[aergate-fr]

elaborating on my previous Auraboa doodle, with more thoughts about what my Ideal feathered snake dragon would look like

python face, with no eyelids. why are they called auraBOAs if they're modeled after venomous snakes (i am aware pythons aren't boas either don't @ me. but it's closer than what they have now)

body is entirely feathered, save for the belly scales. in the original drawing, they had a head crest of long feathers that was supposed to get shorter down the neck, and blend into the feathery back mane. in this one i shortened it greatly and made it more of a cockatoo crest thing. a longer crest could still be fun though

the wings and tail feathers have a rounded, elliptical shape to them. elliptical wings give great maneuverability, and would be ideal for a jungle-dwelling dragon

the original doodle had paws and coatl feather ear things, but i'm getting rid of both of those. i like the sleeker snake look that Not having them adds to. also someone in the notes opened my eyes to the hand possibilities, and if this redesign DID have limbs, they would have parrot feet

also sidenote about their name: is it just me or is Auraboa kinda. clunky to say? my brain keeps autocorrecting it to Aurabora, which rolls off the tongue so much nicer. maybe even Auraboras, to make the ouroboros reference clearer

[martilyongabo]

EO3 (partial) lineup - November-December 2022

Peak MAbo is collaborating with your best friend for a(n admittedly unfair) final project (for web development!!!! an elective!!!), saying you would post it, forgetting about it for a year, posting it on Artstation and forgetting about it again.

As always, AC drew the lineart, and I colored. Designs were more of a collaborative effort between the two of us!

Probably should have shared this when the HD collection came out... anyway it's here now!

Some design ramblings under the cut :0! There's a lot i wanna share especially given that we recently did a soft rewrite that departed from the guild system entirely ^^" and EO3's cast was actually one of the first that we had, surprisingly!

Micah is quite clearly alt gladiator 3, but in an entirely different profession. instead of going into the labyrinth, he works in what i imagine would be an analogue to the forge in Tharsis (aka helping people make things busted af). It probably works best for his character, since he was always a gizmo freak even in his first iteration! geomagnetic (or submagnetic, ugh) gizmo is AC's idea!

Micah's brother, Eva, is a very loose spin on zodiac 3, but with a wayyyy lighter colour palette. Admittedly, i did steal a little bit of the spiritmaster's coat from bravely default, but AC managed to spin it back to resembling the original coat that the class had. Eva works as an astronomer, hence the little telescope he always has on him.

Next up we have Eva's protégé, Miri (who was imported from AC's stories)! Theoretically, Miri would be a second zodiac, and, after watching some EO3 speedruns, would probably be really strong in the earlygame when working with Eva in an actual playthrough. AC's design heavily borrows from Patho II's Grace, hence the coat + dress combo.

Following Miri in this lineup would be Noa, her admittedly very lazy but clingy sibling. I think it's apparently here that we didn't have much time to filter what a believable design would be in an EO setting, given that Noa's clothes were translated directly from our designs of them in school attire. It's actually funny how for we diverged from their original portrait (buccaneer 3) to the point that she is literally unrecognizable. Truly a pipeline from good sea boy to j-horror twist character.

Last in the OC section would be Masaru, who recently found work for the Senatus. Admittedly he does have another example of "incongruent time period" clothing (the jacket), though it's a lot more reworkable than Noa. We also made his design a lot less poofy and rugged compared to the original, and I mixed the base and alt color palettes as well to make him less, well, glaringly red. Probably one of the funnier things is that his clothing palette made him blend in more with the likes of Kujura, but given that they work for the same place, it'll probably work out fine.

Now we go onto NPCs, and who better to start than with Flowdia! Admittedly, her art was one of the last ones that we did, hence why her design looks relatively plain (sorry lola). Probably one of the things I would like to add would be more ornate patterns, perhaps of butterflies to tie her closer to Gutrune!

Before we get to the Princess, we gotta get through her bodyguard first! >:0 I honestly don't like Kujura because I answered honestly in his first question, and he said that I was prideful, but AC likes him so he looks really good here. He isn't as rendered here as he is in his portrait, since he was also one of the last characters we made, and I didn't really get to notice that he doesn't have as much value contrast in his clothing as Masaru does. Probably something to think about next time I color him >:0

Next up we have Gutrune!! We decided to make her look more jellyfish-like, while still keeping it a bit uncanny and unsettling. We tried to give her a more traditionally Filipiniana look (mostly on the Maria Clara gown), but we haven't yet made a poncho design that mixes well with butterfly sleeves without looking cluttered. As such, she has a more nightdress-y look here. AC drew in a few tentacles, and I couldn't help but make them look squishy.

Last but not least is Olympia! We wanted to align her appearance more with her background, hence her altered design :0 Having rips of the artbook easily accesible online also helped us flesh out her hair in particular, since we didn't want to just transplant Gutrune's hairstyle onto her.

And that's all of them!!! I'm honestly hoping to draw more EO characters, though Seyfried's design scares me (honestly the reason why I couldn't make a Reversed Emperor comic).

Currently, I've made a lot of progress on the EO4 game, and I'm excited to draw up the three N-turned-PCs + Xiuan >:'0!!! I don't think I can ever get as cool as Morika tho. If you've come this far and aren't into EO, please check out their blog!! Their art is stunning and has come a really long way :")

[is-this-tf]

Is it TF?

TF, as in Transformation, is a concept that can mean quite a few things to many different people- and when depicted in art or media, usually consists of some sort of physical or psychological transformation of one thing into another, often including the contexts before or after such a change occurs. 

For the purposes of this blog, the assumed pretense that the TF or TF-adjacent content depicted in posts on this blog being nonsexual in this manner is considered the default, and will be treated or engaged with as such unless clarified otherwise, but there are plenty of ways those who engage in TF art can enjoy it! There are many who consider it a paraphilia for themselves and commonly enjoy it as a sexual theme (as explained and described very well in this comic here), but it is also quite common for people to enjoy it entirely nonsexually, as well- perhaps exploring it under a lens of gender, as a vessel or narrative device to communicate themes, or just liking it as an unrelated special interest... TF is fascinating and alluring concept in itself, regardless of the ways it can be enjoyed and explored.

I made this blog because I love it when I see people unintentionally making TF posts on tumblr. I feel like it happens a lot and I think it's really, really funny when it does, by accident or not. Feel free to tag me in posts or send in questions asking if something is TF, and I'll give my honest answer as an expert in the field myself. 

Don't forget, words to live by:

Primary tags: #this is tf, #this is tf art, #unintentional tf, #intentional tf, #definitely intentional tf, #not tf

Additionally: Now taking TF or Pass requests and suggestions, just for fun! Please just limit suggestions for this if you want to play to sending me an ask, for me to answer from my inbox rather than being tagged in posts. Linking posts in asks for this is fine, but please specify the character you are asking me to rate in the text of the ask as well. All posts related to this on this blog will be tagged #tf or pass.

[unlikelypandahologram]

New hot M*gOP fanfic take

[gachaparadise]

ahhh the Penacony leaks are really coming in now.

*chuckles* I'm in danger.

[tenok]

.

[scrcrwfsh]

i got soup

[roboticchibitan]

Today I'm going to talk about a form of radical resistance that anyone, no matter their situation, can engage in: cultivating hope.

Are you filled with hopelessness and despair at the state of the world? I have some good news and some bad news.

The bad news is you've fallen for a tool of the status quo. Despair freezes us. It keeps us from imagining and working towards a better world. Despair is easy, because it means we have no reason to take action to make things better. Capitalism? Our oppressors? They want you hopeless for a reason. Because you're easier to control that way.

The good news is! There's a lot of very real reasons for hope. However, hope is something you have to cultivate. It takes work. It is a radical act. It is looking at the status quo and going "actually, no. I refuse."

Maybe you can't risk losing your job to unionize your workplace. Or maybe you're an oppressed minority who can't risk going to protests because our criminal justice system is racist. But cultivating hope in yourself is just as radical an act of resistance as those two things. It is another form of imagining and working towards a better world.

It's not as flashy as starting a union or going to a protest, true. Maybe it feels selfish, like you're only helping yourself. But that's not true. It's a lot harder to help others when you, yourself, are frozen by despair. By working on yourself, you are making it easier for you to help others, in whatever form that takes for you.

For me, since I started my hopepunk practice I have been more able to engage in activism, even if I no longer post about it. Before calls to action froze me. I was so overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of our problems that I was unable to address any of them.

Since I've started cultivating hope in myself, I've unfrozen enough that I was able to choose the causes that matter to me and put my energy there. I engage in more charitable donations and political actions now than I did before. I am happier and also helping others more than I did before.

Cultivating hope in yourself is hard at first. You feel defeated before you even start. But you start putting work in and you find a little hope. And then a little more. And a little more. And then, suddenly. It snowballs and you're doing better than you have in years, and hope comes easier to you now.

If you don't know where to start, go follow @hopepunk-humanity @hope-for-the-planet @afeelgoodblog and @reasonsforhope or follow the hopepunk tag

There's also things like the good news network, who have a daily email they send out with a handful of positive news stories. Some of them I find kinda dumb and shallow like "lost dog returned after 3 years" type stories. But there's also a lot about scientific advancments in green energy, medical care, etc that I find helpful for cultivating hope. Did you know about the CRISPR gene editing tool that's being used to cure incurable illnesses? I didn't! And now I do! afeelgoodblog also runs a substack "best news of last week" newsletter every Monday that I find has stories with more substance, tho it is US focused.

Despair isn't helping anyone, especially not you. Engage in a radical act and start cultivating hope in yourself. You deserve to leave that despair behind, and in the process, you are directly going against the powers that have decided we are easier to control if we are miserable.

[inkskinned]

most writing advice is good as long as you know why it is good, at which point it is also bad. the hardest thing (and most precious thing) about being an artist is that you gotta learn how to take critique. i don't mean "just shut up and accept that people hate your work," i mean you need to learn what the critique is saying and then figure out if it actually helps.

i usually tell people reading my work: "i'm collecting data, so everything is useful." i ask them where they put the book down, even though it's too long for most people to read in 1 sitting. i ask them what they thought of certain characters. i let them tell me it was really good but i like it more when they look a little stunned and say i forgot i was reading your book, which means they forgot i exist, which is very good news.

sometimes people i didn't ask will read my work and tell me i don't like it. and that is okay, you don't have to like it. but i look at the thing that they don't like and try to figure out if i care. i don't like that you don't capitalize. this one is common, and i have already thought about it. i do not care, it's because of chronic pain and frankly i like the little shape of small letters. you use teeth and ribs in all your work. actually that is very true. i don't know what's up with that. next time i will work to figure out a different word, thank you. you're whiny, go outside. someone said that to me recently and it made me laugh. i am on the whine-about-it website as an internet poet. you are in my native habitat, watching me perform a natural enrichment behavior. but i like the dip of whiny, how the word itself does "whine" (up/down, the sound out your nose on the y), but i don't know if i want to feel whiny. maybe next time i will work on it being melancholy, like what you would call a male writer's poetry.

repeated "good" advice clangs in a bell and doesn't hold a real shape, dilutes in the water. like sometimes you will hear "don't use said." you turn that around in your head and it bounces off the edges of your brain like it is a dvd screensaver. it isn't bad advice, but it feels wrong somehow, like saying easy choices are illegal! sometimes i will only use "said." sometimes i will just kick dialogue tags out to the trash. sometimes i make little love poems where the fact that i do not say "said" is very bad, and makes you feel bad in your body, because someone didn't say something. i am a contrary little shitbird, i guess.

but it is also good advice, actually. it is trying to say that "said" sometimes is clutter. it makes new writers think about the very-small words and very-small choices, because actually your work matters and wordchoice matters. "i know," you said. "i know," you sighed. "i know." we both know but neither of us use a dialogue tag, because we are in a contemporary lit piece.

it is too-small to say don't use said. but it is a big command, so it gets your attention. what are you relying on? what easy choices do you make? when you edit, do you choose the same thing? can you make a different choice? sometimes we need the blankness of said, how it slides into the background. sometimes we don't.

i usually say best advice is to read, but i also mean read books you don't like, because that will make you angry enough to write your own book. i also mean read good books, which will break your heart and remind you that you are a very small person and your voice is a seashell. i also mean you need to eat books because reading a book is a writer's version of studying.

my creative writing teacher in the 7th grade had a big red list of no! words and on it was SUNSET. RAZORS. LOVE. GALAXY. DEATH. BLOOD. PAIN. I liked that razor and love were tucked next to each other like birds, and found it funny that he believed we were too young to know the weight of razor in the context of pain. i hated him and his Grateful Dead belt, where the colored teddy bears held up his appraisal of us. i hated his no list. it is very good/bad advice. i wasn't old enough yet to know that when you are writing about death you are also writing about sunsets and when you write about love you are tucking yourself into a napkin that never stops folding.

back then my poetry was all bloody, dripped with agony when you picked it up. i didn't know there is nothing beautiful about a razor, nothing exciting about pain. i just understood sharpness, which he took to mean i understood nothing. i wrote the razor down and it wasn't easy, but it was necessary. that's what i'm saying - sometimes it's good advice, because it's not always necessary. and sometimes it is very bad advice, because writing about it is lifesaving.

hang on my dog was just having a nightmare. i heard that it is a rule not to write about dogs - in my creative writing mfa, my teacher rolled her eyes and said everyone writes a dead dog. the literature streets are littered in canine bodies. i watched the rise and fall of his ribs (there is that word again) and had to reach out and stop the bad dream. when he woke up he didn't recognize me, and he was afraid.

it is good/bad advice to say that poems and writing have to mean something. it is bad/good advice to say they're big feelings in small packages. it is better advice to say that when my dog saw where he was, he relaxed immediately, rubbed his face against me. someone on instagram would make fun of that moment by writing their "internet poetry" as a sentence that tumbles across a white page: outside it is sunset and my dog is still in a gutter, bleeding a galaxy out of his left paw. or maybe it would be: i woke the dog up/the dog forgot i loved him/and i saw the shape of a senseless/and impossible pain.

the dog is alive in this one, and he is happy. when i tell you i love you, i know what i said. write what you need to write, be gentle to yourself about it. the advice is only as good as far as it helps. the rest is just fencing. take stock of the boundaries, and then break them. there's always somewhere else you could be growing.

i love you, keep going.

[godsandmonsters505]

Roll Like Thunder | Negan Smith

dbf!Negan Smith (The Walking Dead) x younger fem!reader

(AU where the apocalypse never happened)

Summary: Negan is your dad's best friend and the two of you settle some tension while on your family vacation.

Warnings (18+): age gap (reader is college age, maybe 20-ish, and Negan's age is not specified but I'm feeling early 50s), smut (fem receiving oral, unprotected p in v), possibility of getting caught, edging

Notes: this actually kinda turned out sweet in a way I think, which is surprising because that's not often an outcome when I write for Negan lmao. not proofread yet because I just wanted to get it out to you all asap, but will edit if needed when I get the chance. hope you enjoy!! (also the intro is kinda long oops)

Grabbing your glass of wine you take another much needed swig, cringing at your dad and uncle. They always find some way to turn every conversation into a political argument while the rest of your family eat their meals and exchange knowing glances

Family holidays were always like this. The one time a year when everyone was together: your parents, aunt, uncle and cousins. Only this year, there was a new addition.

Negan had grown up being a close friends with both your father and uncle and they are still best friends to this day. He recently went through a messy divorce and this is his first Christmas without his wife in a long time. Your dad never was good with showing kindness or friendship, but your uncle had convinced him it would be a good idea to invite him to his cabin for your annual Christmas getaway.

And that's how you got here.

You'd always had a little bit of a crush on Negan, for as long as you could remember. Though you never saw much of him as a kid. It wasn't until you got older - old enough to be able to drink in front of your parents - that you got to spend more time with him. Drinking was a big part of their social life, so once you could join in, you got to know him better. You got on well with your parents so you'd have barbeques with them and their friends, join in with conversations in the kitchen when they'd have people over, go out to dinner. But then you went off to college and started spending less and less time with them. So now it's Christmas time, you're happy to be able to spend time with your family. And Negan, more than you'd care to admit.

"Okay fellas," your mom chimes in. "Enough of that."

Negan makes eye contact with you from across the other side of the table and you smirk at each other. You're both all too familiar with watching this from an outside perspective.

"The food's delicious, Negan," she adds, turning to Negan, who had cooked this meal for you all. Sort of as a thank you for letting him tag along. For the first few days in the cabin he felt a little out of place, like he was intruding on your family's time together. But eventually he began to find himself settling. You were lucky to have a very fun, non-judgmental family so everyone was happy to have him there.

You nodded in agreement with your mother's statement. "I'd have more if there was any left." You motion to your empty plate.

"I'm glad it's got your approval, ladies," he grins.

The meal comes to an end and alcohol starts flowing. Your cousins are all younger than you so they head off to their bedrooms to do whatever it is kids their age do.

"I'd better get these dishes cleaned," Negan declares, standing up from his seat.

"No," you say, protesting. "You cooked. I'll clean."

"It's fine, you don't have to," he says kindly.

"I want to," you smile. "Really I'm happy to."

"We'll do them together?" He suggests, coming to a compromise and you nod in agreement.

"You raised a stubborn one," he mumbles teasingly to your dad, patting his shoulder as he walks past him.

"She gets that from me," your mom chirps as the two of you pick the plates up from the table and carry them into the kitchen.

Putting the plates on the kitchen top, you head to the fridge and look inside.

"Beer?" you ask, peeking around the door to look at Negan's response. Though you already have two cans in your hand, knowing he won't turn down the offer.

He nods. "Can't do anything without a drink in hand in this family, huh?"

You close the fridge door and pass him his beer, cracking open his own.

"You should be more than aware of that," you tease. "I've heard what you and my dad used to get up to."

"I'm sure you've not even heard the most of it," he teases back.

You laugh softly under your breath at his response.

"I'll wash, you dry?" You suggest as the sink begins to fill with soapy water.

The two of you get the dishes done relatively quickly as Negan tells you a story from his college days. You have to keep yourself composed and remember who he is. Remember that these stories he's telling of him at your age took place before you were even born. A decade before, at least. But, every so often, as you pass him the plates to dry, your fingers touch his and such a small motion has you weak. You can't look him directly in the eyes as he stands so close to you. That signature grin of his spread across his face.

The two of your finish and you take a large swig of your beer, but it's no surprise that the flush of alcohol doesn't help your body heat. You can only hope and pray that your cheeks aren't beetroot red right now.

"I'm sure you've got plenty of stories, though, right?" He asks. "Being in college and all. And with your dad's genes...God."

A playful smile spreads on your face. "Sure. I'm absolutely not telling you though. My dad would have a heart attack."

"Ahh," he smiles back. "So this whole 'good girl' thing is just an act, then?"

Holy shit. Good girl? He has no clue what he is doing to you calling you things like that.

"I can be good when it suits me." You say, almost flirtatiously, and immediately kick yourself. Why the hell would you say something like that to him?

Your off-the-cuff reply has him grinning. He swipes his tongue over his teeth as he contemplates your words and you almost drop to your knees.

"Let's go see what political debate has become the talking point now," you say, changing the topic to hide your complete embarrassment. You leave the kitchen and head to the living room, Negan following.

Somehow, in the time it took you to wash the dishes, your mom and aunt have gone through a bottle and a half of wine, and they're sat on the floor with your dad and uncle playing some sort of drinking game.

You sit down on the couch and Negan sits next to you. Why? Why could he not just sit away from you? Give you some space to compose yourself? But the action is completely innocent. There is just less than a foot between the two of you, yet it still feels like he is on top of you. Like you're breathing the same air.

"What was I just saying?" Negan says, nudging your arm with his elbow. "Alcohol."

You shake your head in playful disagreement with your relatives' actions.

"Hey, mom," you say and her head whips around, as laughter escapes her lips. "Think you've had enough for tonight?"

"Oh, you're so boring," she waves her hand at you dismissively.

The four of them continue for about half an hour as you and Negan observe and laugh. The game finally comes to an end when your aunt and uncle discreetly head off to their bedroom for a reason you don't even want to think about. Your parents follow shortly after, your dad having to carry your drunk mom up the stairs.

You come back from the kitchen where you were getting another lager for you and Negan. As you do so, you look for the TV controller and find a blanket that was lying around. You sit down again next to Negan and look down at your phone to check the time.

"God, it's not even 10 o'clock yet." You laugh.

"Amateurs," he says sarcastically.

You pass him his beer which he thanks you for, then get under you blanket.

"Want some?" You ask, holding out some excess blanket towards him.

"Sure," he accepts, getting comfortable himself.

The whole situation you're in is completely innocent, but it dawns on you that you're currently alone with Negan, tucked under the same blanket. Given that fact, you make a conscious effort not to touch him at all and try to remain composed.

"Put a movie on?" You ask him, passing the TV remote to him.

He takes it from your hand, brushing his fingertips across yours.

You watch him carefully as he selects a film to put on, making sure not to get caught admiring him. He just looks so good. The salt and pepper sprinkled throughout his hair and beard. The tattoos that cover his arms. The way his white t-shirt hugs his body just right. You're brought out of your thoughts when he speaks.

"You seen Batman Returns?" He asks, looking down at you.

"Of course," you smile. "It's a classic."

"Feel like watching it again?"

You nod. You'll watch whatever he wants. Do whatever he wants.

"Absolutely," you answer. "I didn't peg you as a Batman kind of guy, to be honest."

"Like you say, it's a classic," he says. "Plus there's always Michelle Pfeiffer."

You laugh at him. "I feel you."

You polish off another beer as you watch the film. You try your best to pay attention, to keep your eyes open, but you grow increasingly tired. It must have only been fifteen minutes into the film when you finally drift off, reality slipping away.

When you wake up again, it takes a while to fully gain consciousness, You feel something under you head, under your arm, but you don't pay much attention to it.

You feel warm. Comfortable. You don't want to wake up, you could stay here forever. The smell of men's shampoo and cologne comforts you, a soft material under the touch of your hand.

All of a sudden reality dawns on you. You realise that your head is leaning on a shoulder. That your hand is draped across a torso. You shoot up, sitting upright and see Negan smiling at you softly through slightly hooded eyes.

"Oh God," you say, feeling incredibly humiliated. "I'm sorry." But he just chuckles.

You look over to the television and see a black screen.

"Did the movie finish?" You ask groggily and he nods. Fuck. You slept for the entire duration of the film and who knows how much of that time you spent laying on Negan's shoulder.

What you're only just realising now, though, is how close you're still sat to him. How even though you're sat up, Negan's shoulder is casually draped across the back of the sofa, dangerously close to your shoulder blades.

"Why didn't you just wake me up?" You ask, feeling flushed.

"You looked peaceful." He answers, honestly. "Didn't want to disrupt you."

"I'm sorry," you apologize again. "You should've woken me up."

"I didn't mind, sweetheart." He insists. "Honestly."

The pet name drives you utterly insane. As if this whole thing wasn't already enough. Your body feels so hot. What with the blanket, his body heat, your arousal.

"I will say though, you do talk quite a bit in your sleep," he smiles coyly and dread shoots through your entire body.

"Wh-what-" you can't even get a full sentence out. "What did I-"

A flash of a dream comes back to you in that moment. Oh God. Oh God, no. You can't remember the details, but you remember the feeling. Negan on top of you. His body weight on you. The ecstasy you felt. His hands on your body. His name slipping from your lips.

You had a sex dream about Negan while you were laying on his Goddamn shoulder. You're lost for words, but Negan is enjoying watching this play out. He bites his lip, trying to suppress his smug grin as he watches you realise the possibilities of what you might have said.

His arm slowly slips off the back of the sofa and creeps around to touch you, the movement making you flinch a little. What is he doing?

He takes his other hand and places two fingers just under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The two of you make eye contact and you can't even contemplate what is happening - still a little groggy from your nap - before his lips are coming down gently on yours.

You kiss him back almost immediately. It's a surprising delicate and intimate kiss, and you daringly bring your hand up to his neck to pull him in deeper, but he pulls back.

You worry that he is having second thoughts, but the look in his eyes says the complete opposite. He just wants to get a good look at you before he tears you apart. You feel vulnerable under his hungry eyes but you love how it makes you feel.

The two of you take a moment to catch your breath before your lips join again, this time the kiss rougher. More passionate. His arms wrap around your back to pull your body snug to his and you intwine your fingers into his hair, tugging ever so slightly. His large hands snake further down and grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. As you get comfortable you shift along his length and gasp, feeling that he is already hard.

"You were practically fucking dry humping me in your sleep," he chuckles. "You can't blame me."

"So that's why you didn't want to wake me up, then?" You're barely able to mumble, teasing him.

"Hmm, maybe." You can feel him smile into the kiss and it makes you want him more. Everything about him is so endearing. He just radiates this warmth, this aura, and it's radiating.

Even now, however, you're nervous to move things along. You know what you want but this is still so surreal, and it would be an understatement to say you feel a little intimidated in this moment. You have enough sexual experience, but this is Negan. This is different. So you're glad when he takes control and begins to lift up your top, pulling it over your head to expose your bra.

His mouth makes contact with the flesh of your chest, sucking and nipping while he reaches around to unhook your bra. He feels his cock twitch when he sees your bare breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth immediately as his warm hands roam and caress your back, travelling over your smooth skin.

As you start to subconsciously grind into his bulge, Negan continues to explore your breasts. You're looking for any kind of relief and you begin to find some as he presses up into you, but both of your pants are restricting you.

You feel yourself crumbling further and further as Negan's hands come around to aid him with his attention to your breasts, squeezing and practically groaning as he does so. The noise changes something inside you, and makes you realise that you need him stripped of his clothes right this second.

You grasp the bottom of his shirt and he briefly pulls away from you to allow you to move it, but the second you're done, his lips are back on your skin, leaving marks on your collarbone and neck. Next, you move onto the buckle of his belt but he swats your hand away.

Pulling back from the kiss, you look to him with wide eyes full of confusion. That look alone is nearly enough to cause him to fold and fuck you right then and there. But he has other plans.

"Be patient for me, honey," he says sweetly, and as badly as you want him, you trust him.

He pulls your body flush to his, so that your breasts are pressed entirely against the heat of his chest. Then he grips your lower back and stands up, holding you tightly.

"We can't do this here," he says, carrying you towards the stairs. You grind up against him playfully as he does so and he stops momentarily half way up the stairs, clearly affected by the action. In retaliation he gently swats your ass and you giggle at his response.

"Shh," he hushes, but he can't hide the grin that spreads across his face as you bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

Being as quiet as possible, he takes you into his bedroom which - awkwardly - is across the hall from your parents' room.

He puts you down on the bed, barely allowing himself to be away from you for a second, climbing on top of you hastily. He goes back to kissing you, the taste of him intoxicating. The way he kisses are gentle yet so hot and passionate at the same time, becoming increasingly sloppy as they shift from your lips to your jaw, neck, chest, abdomen, until you're a writhing mess beneath him.

Once he has kissed so far that he reaches the waist line of your trousers, he unbuttons them and pulls them all the way down. He throws them onto the floor, leaving you just in your lace black panties. He nudges your legs open and moves his kisses to your thigh. He's slowly breaking you and you're not sure how much more you can take. Painstakingly slow, he trails his tongue up your inner thigh until he reaches the edge of your panties.

Eventually he slips your panties off and you tremble as you feel the cool air of his room against your hot, aching core. He places his hands on your inner thighs to push them open further, mouth watering at the sight of you. The delicate touch of his fingers send shivers up your spine and you're in desperate need of more.

"Please, Negan," you say, barely a croak.

"Shh, let me take care of you," he soothes, his voice low and gravelly as he tries his best to stay quiet. "Wanted to taste this sweet pussy for so long."

As if to affirm his words, he lowers his head and licks a stripe straight through your folds, groaning as he feels how wet you are.

He then moves his mouth to make contact with your clit, your hips raising at the action. He starts off by sucking gently, leaving you aching for more as you reach down to grab his hair, not knowing what else to do. He chuckles as you do so and sends vibrations straight through your core. Unable to control yourself, a moan escapes you lips and he squeezes your thighs warningly, wordlessly telling you to be quiet.

He takes his time to precisely pull you apart, but then his motions begins to get harsher, faster. You feel that rising feeling in the pit of your stomach begin to spread after waiting for what feels like so long. He alternates between kissing, sucking, licking, nipping until you're desperate for more. Sensing this, he teases one finger at your entrance.

"Please," you whimper, legs trembling. He answers your pleading by pushing his single digit inside you in one long push, as deep as he can go, and keeping it there momentarily. As he continues to eat you out, he begins moving his finger, fucking you gently. When he adds a second finger you have to clasp your hand over your own mouth to stop yourself from calling out his name. Your legs wrap around his head, wanting to pull him closer to you in any way possible.

Closing your eyes, you feel that white hot feeling flooding through your veins, but right as you're about to reach your peak, he pulls his fingers out and his mouth away from you.

You let out a guttural sound, one of desperation which causes Negan to laugh under his breath.

"Negan, God, please," you whine, putting both your hands on his head and pushing him back down.

"So bossy," he mumbles with a smile on his face, but he obliges.

He doesn't use his fingers on you again, but it makes no difference. You're already pent up enough as it is that it won't take a lot to make you reach your peak. Plus, you don't doubt that Negan's skillful mouth is more than enough for you.

He circles his tongue around your clit, going back to sucking while using his free fingers to absentmindedly trace little patterns into your thighs. The only noises are your heavy pants and the wetness of his mouth against you, and it fills the otherwise deadly silent bedroom.

He's starting to become more familiar with your body and your reactions and he can tell you're getting close again. To which he stops and pulls away yet again.

"Negan," you almost cry. Tears prick in the corners of your eyes as you throb for him. "Please, I need to-"

"I got you baby," he assures you, stroking the flesh of your thighs comfortingly.

You can't bare it. You almost despise him for doing this to you, but you can't. It's all so surreal: having this man between your thighs. So often you have fantasized of it and though it's so wrong, it's now happening.

Before you can beg again, his lips make contact with you. This time he's a man on a mission. His tongue flicks against your clit as two of his fingers slip back inside you. You're so wet that it's an easy motion, but you still feel the tight, delicious stretch. He allows you to get used to it, building you up until he adds a third finger and you have to use all your power not to yell out his name. You try your hardest not to hurt Negan by squeezing your thighs too much or pulling his hair too hard, but he loves it. He loves driving you crazy, seeing you unwind for him. The noises you make. The taste of you.

Relentlessly, he penetrates you with his fingers, pushing and curling his fingers deep inside you, hitting a spot that eventually brings you your release. One last push, one last flick of his tongue and you're falling over the edge. You squeeze your eyes shut and you can't help the animalistic sound that leaves you as white flashes behind your eyelids. He continues eating you out through your orgasm and it hits you that you think you're doing something you never have before.

Once you manage to come around again, you let your legs relax and look down to Negan who looks up at you. He smiles smugly, your wetness remaining in his beard and it causes you to go weak in the knees.

"Did I just-?" Squirt, you want to say. But somehow it doesn't seem like the nicest word to describe what just happened between of the two.

He nods with a glimmer in his eyes as he makes his way up the bed, his body above yours.

"I've never-" you croak. "I've never done that before."

"You just needed a man, that's all," he gloats and you roll your eyes. "It was hot as fuck, for what it's worth."

He leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips. You can taste yourself on him.

You're still shaking a little, but you manage to pull back a little to look him in his eyes.

"Are we really doing this?" You ask, bordering on timid.

"Do you want to?" He counters.

"Yes," you say, quickly, not wanting him to think you're having doubts. Because there is absolutely no doubt in your mind that you want the man above him. Hell, you need him. But somehow you find yourself feeling a little insecure and needing reassurance. "Do you?"

"Darling," he laughs. "Not to be crude, but you just came all over my face. I want this more than you know."

You nod and smile, feeling more confident. "I'm sorry, I just-"

He interrupts your babbling with a long kiss to your lips, silencing you.

"You need to worry less," he says, bringing his hand to stroke your cheek sweetly.

"Make me." You propose flirtingly, smiling up at him.

"That I can do." His lips crash down on yours and his tongue intertwines with yours.

Reaching down to his pants you fumble with his zip, which he helps your shaky hands undo. He shifts both his pants and boxers down off his ankles, and though you can't see his length fully from this angle, you can feel its hardness press against your lower stomach and he feels big.

"You ready, baby?" He raises his brow at you as he grips his member and teases it through your folds.

"Yes, please Negan," you pant, even after having the best orgasm of your life, you still need more. "Need you inside me."

He groans as he slips inside of you and the way you practically beg for him drives him crazy.

"So fucking tight, holy shit," he mumbles into your ear, his head dropping down to bite and suck on the crook of your neck. "Oh, baby, fuck."

Hearing him say such obscene things affects you in an indescribable way. His voice has always been massively attractive to you, but now...you're done for. The deep rumble, smooth like honey, even lower in an attempt to remain quiet to your family in the surrounding bedrooms. It's like dark magic. It has you hooked. He could say the right thing to you with that voice and you'd cum right there and then.

His movements are slow, savoring the sensation of you around him. He wants to take his time with you. He never wants it to be over.

Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his back and lift your hips up wanting more from you. He maintains his pace, but does start pushing deeper inside you like you wanted.

"I've wanted you for so long," you say, not even in control of your words anymore. It's like he's fucking them right out of you. He moans into your neck at your admission and starts thrusting a little faster, as if in response to your statement.

"Do you know-" he stops speaking for a moment to breathe and compose himself, clearly enjoying this as much as you, "how often I get myself off thinking about you?" He punctuates his point with a particularly hard thrust and that - in combination with the idea of him masturbating to the thought of you - causes you to cry out. You thought he would shush you, but he seems too far gone at this point.

"A fucking pretty little thing like you," he says, his hands groping at your tits, his touch rougher than before, "it'd be hard not to."

"Oh god," you whimper. "Harder, please."

His movements get harsher gradually, following your command and getting you closer and closer every second.

He lifts his head up and the way he looks at you makes your insides collapse. To be the sole object of his attention. How he looks at you like you're all that ever mattered.

"I'm so close, Negan," you tell him.

"Taking me so fucking well, darling," he praises, reaching one hand down to lazily play with your clit. That's all it takes and he can feel it coming as you begin to squeeze around him. He takes your lips in a long, sensual kiss as you climax, trying to muffle your moans as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your hands are wrapped around his back, squeezing into his shoulders as you try your hardest to be quiet. Pure pleasure surges through your veins as he presses his entire body weight into you: suffocating in the most beautiful way possible.

Gradually, Negan's movements come to a halt and he stops moving inside you briefly, letting go of you come down from your high.

"You're gonna be the fucking death of me," he declares and before you can reply, he suddenly starts moving inside you again, faster than the last time, placing a quick peck on the tip of your nose as he does so.

He soon reaches a pace much faster than before and you're rendered speechless.

Your attention is grabbed, however, by the open and shut of a door somewhere. You gasp and your eyes widen at the sound. The possibilities of who it could be and if they'd heard you start to race through your mind but your thoughts are cut off when Negan clasps a hand firmly over your mouth to keep you quiet. He presses you further into the mattress as he fucks you even harder than before, enjoying tormenting you.

You listen closely to the footsteps. They're quite loud - that of a man - probably your dad or uncle. The pitter patter grows closer and your heard races, both from the fear of getting caught and from the sensation of Negan deep inside you. Hitting places you're sure no other man ever has or ever could. You relax a little as you hear the footsteps pass Negan's bedroom and head into the shared bathroom, the door closing afterwards.

Negan takes his hand off your mouth and you gasp for air.

"Oh my god, please don't stop," you beg as he sets a pace and sticks with it, snaking his slender fingers back down to your clit and circling it gently.

"I don't plan on," he chimes. "You're taking me so well."

You've never felt anything like this. Your entire body is numb and slick with sweat. All you can do is grab onto his hair and try your best to lift your hips to meet his thrusts.

To help you out, he grabs your body and switches positions slightly. He lifts himself up then clutches your thighs, lifting them onto his shoulders. Then his hands grip onto your hips and he has access to you in a way that allows him to go much deeper. You know you can't take much more. You're close to crying just from how much you want to scream his name.

Your eyes keep fluttering shut but you force them opening, wanting to keep them on the man doing this to you. His tousled hair, his flexed biceps, his tattooed chest.

"Harder, please," you whisper. "I'm nearly there."

Thrusting harder, he also adds his fingers back to your clit, rubbing harshly. It's almost painful on your sensitive nerves but it feels unreal and it's enough to build you up to near-ecstasy.

Your mouth hangs open but you refrain from making any noise. In one unexpected motion, he lands a slap to your clit and it sends your orgasm rushing.

"Good girl, that's it," he guides you through as your body starts to spasm.

He continually pounds into you and turns his head to the side to place soft kisses to your inner thigh, contrasting the way he now ruthlessly moves inside of you.

You contract around him as you cum and you can tell he is trying his hardest to hold on as he visibly hesitates, not knowing where to release.

"Cum inside me, Negan," you give permission. "Want it so bad."

Those words were all he needed as he spills inside you, the warm liquid filling you.

Gradually, his movements slow down as he fucks you through the both of your orgasms, fucking his cum deeper inside you, and then pulls out and collapses next to you.

You rest your head on his shoulder and to your surprise, he pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss to your forehead.

"Holy shit," you giggle, the whole situation setting in.

Negan's about to speak but his sentence stops forming when the bathroom door opens and closes again. You'd completely forgot about that.

The two of you exchange a glance as you wait for the footsteps to disappear down the hallway. Once they're gone, you relax back into his embrace.

Absentmindedly, you place your hand on Negan's warm chest, tracing the ink of his tattoos. Its surprisingly comforting having him this close, to be held by him. You're entranced by the smell of his cologne and the way his chest heaves up and down, catching his breath. He smiles as he watches you, equally as entranced by you. He can't quite believe that the daydreams he thought were exactly that - daydreams - have come to life.

"We'll have to do this again," he grins coyly, "some place where you can scream my name as loud as you need to." His hands run over your body, cupping your breasts as if to appreciate as much of you as possible.

"I'd like that," you smile back, snuggling into his arms. You know you can't stay here all night, but you'll appreciate it for as long as possible.

[sleepy-grav3]

We Became Heroes Because You Didn't

The Justice League don't specialize in much. If you ask them, they'd say otherwise. Unless they're one of the Bats, because they acknowledge that, especially with magic. They hate it, but they have connections and will at least ask for more details to deal with the situation at hand. Though they'll need proof.

That's the thing really. Proof. Because how are you going to get proof of something if everything gets repaired by the end? Or maybe you're the villain here according to the public. Or maybe everything you say is just plain crazy that nobody even knows what's going on from the start!

It was only when another group was formed when everything became clear. They were frowned upon, unknown, spoke nonsense, and never asked for help. They were the survivors that played hero. They were the shadowed version of the Justice League.

They were Justice League: Dark

A fanfic (or multiple small ones grouped together?) that isn't really about them joining forces, but more about the discovery of more dangerous territory that's being handled by kids/teens. Lift some weight for these kids. They really want a safe net by now in their hero careers.

Like- maybe a few of these wouldn't be the JL's fault. Maybe it was the government (at least for the US). Like Danny Phantom and Gravity Falls mentions the government, maybe they blocked off those regions from outside connections.

I feel like it would be funny if maybe Constantine just ends up collecting kids like Batman with his.

They're just kids! Itty bitty toddlers. It's supposed to be our job to take care o' that shit, ain't it?

And JLD now has a bunch of young professionals cause what the fuck, kid. Why do you know this??? Ya know? Maybe the JL just randomly finds these things, calls Constantine after Zatanna fails to know wtf is going on, and he just calls over a kid. Or a group of them.

JL: We need a professional, why is there a child here?

Constantine: Cause even when you fuckers ignored their calls for help, they still at least try to help where they can

JL: We never-

Constantine: Shut your traps! School's in session

*Child tries to explain*

JL: You have to be kidding me. ___ doesn't exist.

Constantine: Oh bloody hell-

Child: And they wonder why they get more attention than us.

idk, I just like the idea of Constantine being a father for OP characters and desperately want a Young Justice League: Dark. I read a couple of Danny and/or Billy being adopted by him, but the cravings... And if it's a whole big crossover thing, that would be great. Tag me if you see or write about something like this. I wanna read too :)

Don't put too much hope in me writing it though, I'm seriously bad at continuing/finishing stuff. But if I do, I'll edit this post with links to whatever I write.

[cupid-eclipse]

Chubby pregnant reader x Konig💗

Summary: Reader is trying to reach the sugar on the top shelf whilst being heavily pregnant.

It was inconvenient, really. You were just making some hot chocolate for both you and Konig when you realized that the sugar was on the top shelf. Huffing, you tried to reach it but failed miserably due to your baby bump that was making it difficult for you to reach the sugar because it kept hitting the kitchen counter.

You groaned, as you tried to reach for the sugar again and again but kept failing. Konig, on the other hand, was worried about you because you were taking too long. Were you making hot chocolate or creating hot chocolate?

When Konig saw what you were doing, he couldn't help but chuckle to himself. You didn't even realize he was there as you were too frustrated to reach the frickin' sugar. Who the hell would even put the sugar on the top shelf when there's a pregnant woman in the–wait, no one else lived in your house except for you and Konig. It was Konig who had put the sugar there!

You scoffed, trying to calm yourself down when you suddenly felt soft hands wrapping around your pregnant stomach gently, protecting your bump from the sharp kitchen counter. "Need some help, mein schatz?" Konig chuckled against your ear.

You turned to him with a frown, lips pouted. "Did you put the sugar up there on purpose?" You asked, tone displeased. "Nein, i would never do it on purpose when my wife is carrying our baby in her stomach," Konig said, his tone soft.

"I forgot to put it back down yesterday, 'm sorry darling." He said, as he reached for the sugar and handed it to you. "Mein schatz, you need to be more careful next time. It is dangerous for you to keep hitting your bump on the kitchen counter like that, my dear. What if it hurts the baby?" He said with a sigh, a small frown on his face as he gently rubbed your stomach. "It's all because of this stomach that I'm not able to reach the top shelf," You said with a sob.

"Ay, don't say that," Konig said, cupping your right cheek with his hand hand while his other hand were still still gently rubbing your bump. "Look how amazing your bump is, you're carrying a whole human in there!" He gave you a soft smile before continuing, "And plus, that's our baby you're carrying, no? The safest place for our baby to grow in, it's normal for it to grow like that, mein schatz."

"But i swear, as long as I'm here, i will help you with everything. Even when you're not pregnant." He said, before gently kissing the tip of your nose. "My beautiful, wonderful wife." He whispered quietly.

Edit: CRYING OMG I ACCIDENTLY TAGGED SIMON RILEY INSTEAD OF KÖNIG'S NAME IN THE TAGS 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[gachaparadise]

I've been doing interludes lately (as you do during an interlude campaign) and the gap in quality and character analysis is insane sometimes. I did Qsh and Nezha's back to back and... Night and day over here. Qsh's was so charming and showed me a new side of my beloved moth, as well as some really cute gap moe moments. Nezha's was boring, hardly focussed on them at all, and made the same tired jokes about their gender over and over... Even the blurb on their profile you get after it's complete does it orz

[h0neysp1ce]

Hii

Sorry if this is weird but please can I request some headcanons with Kaveh, Alhaitham and Diluc (Also if you don't write Diluc, Tighnari is good instead) where the Reader has extremely painful period cramps, like to the point where they need to vomit and can't move 🙏

Not at all! here you go 💚🫶

˚୨୧⋆｡˚  Summary: ↑ How does he take care of his s/o when they have very bad cramps?

Characters: Kaveh, Alhaitham, Diluc, Tighnari Tags: Established Relationship (all Separate) Fluff?? Constellation: Head canons Warning(s): Mentions of Period symptoms, nothing graphic reader can be read as gender neutral or Female (Had no clue which one to put so I put both) ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ 

A/N: I tried my best, apologies if Diluc's and Tighnari's Parts are shorter, and hopefully I went into enough detail as you asked , also I hope I titled it in the most un akward way possible, This was my first time writing something like this so I hope its not to bad ^^"

sorta Proof read (will edit later)

Word Count: 1243

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა

Kαʋҽԋ 🎨

This man is worried about you the moment you start not feeling great.

There's no need to feel embarrassed or ashamed; he understands that this is something you go through.

It’s nothing new, really. You've been open with him about your cramps being bad, and he understands that.

The first time this happened, it freaked him out because he thought something was wrong with you until you told him what it was, and he calmed down.

Kaveh: "Alright, I'm back with the heating pad and snacks."

You: "Kaveh, aren’t you supposed to be out working with a client today?"

Kaveh: "Oh no, I canceled all my work for today. I’m not leaving you alone and unattended."

You: "KAVEH!!? No, don’t worry about me. You should worry about your work. I know it's stressful and—"

Kaveh: "No, you're more important right now. Please, let me take care of you."

If you end up getting sick, like feeling like you’re about to vomit at any moment, he’ll be there with you, holding your hair back if you're actively getting sick, rubbing circles into your back, and staying with you in the bathroom until you feel better and can get back to bed.

Knowing that you can’t move much in this state, he'll take it upon himself to get you things. Want food? He’ll make you some. Want cuddles? He’ll gladly cuddle you.

He’ll have medicine ready for you along with a glass of water and a heating pad.

This man pampers you 100%.

It pains him to see you hurting and not feeling your best. You won’t see it, but he tends to have a frown on his face when you're hurting. He’s doing everything he can, but he can’t take your pain away completely, and it makes him sad.

He’d take away the pain and discomfort from you if he could.

Most of the time is spent cuddling. It doesn’t matter to him; whatever makes you most comfortable and relieves at least some of your pain is what matters to him.

He’ll kiss your face all over, along with some hand kisses, giving positive affirmations that you’re going to get through it, that it’s going to be okay, that you’re very strong, and that it’s only temporary.

His voice goes soft when talking to you, running a hand gently through your hair. He’ll be looking at you often, always asking if you're alright or if you need anything.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა

Aʅԋαιƚԋαɱ 📚

He’s read plenty of books to know what you’re going through and the best treatments for it.

He knows what it is without even having to ask you, as you’re wrapped around the toilet suffering.

He’ll sit with you and wait until you feel slightly well enough to get back to resting.

He will be honest with you and say that he doesn’t mind or care; there’s no shame or embarrassment. It’s a normal thing you go through.

If you let him, he’ll use his hands to place them on your abdomen. He has warm hands, and he’ll keep them there if it helps relieve the pain and discomfort, even just a little bit.

He’ll pull off his cape and put it on you if that helps comfort you in some way.

If you’re lying down, he’ll make sure to pull you closer. Usually, he doesn’t like being so close, but he’s doing this for you because he cares.

You: "Alhaitham, am I burdening you?"

Alhaitham: "I've told you multiple times already that you’re not a burden. You just need help and assistance right now, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Now go back to sleep." (says this while reading a book)

He’ll carry you or pick you up and take you places since moving by yourself is a no-go.

He’ll be reading a book while you lay with him. In reality, he’s keeping an eye on you, not reading a page of that book, just pretending.

This man would take the pain away from you in a heartbeat if he could.

He’ll be with you the entire time through this tough period.

He’ll make sure you take your medicine every few hours as directed.

In a modern AU, he’d likely turn on a movie or something for you, and you two would stay in bed mostly. He’ll also get you anything you need, don’t worry.

He’s still able to do his job remotely from home as the Akademiya's Grand Scribe. What, did you think this man was going to work while you weren’t feeling your best? Nope! He’s going to take care of you because that’s what partners do.

Even if he shows little affection normally, he’ll make sure to give you some during this time.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა

Dιʅυƈ 🍷

He’s more than aware when he wakes up and finds you not up, as you’re usually up before him.

He’ll ask you, and when you confirm his suspicions, he’ll grab some things (food, whatever you want if you just ask him).

He’ll also make a quick trip to the Tavern and have someone take over for him for a couple of days since he’s going to focus on you right now.

If you allow him, he’ll heat up his hands with his Pryo Vision and place them on your abdomen to ease your cramps slightly. If you’re feeling sick at any point, just tap on him or signal him, and he’ll make sure you get to the bathroom.

He’ll always take one of your hands, pepper kisses all over, and look at you while the two of you are in bed as you relax.

This man is a gentleman (all the men are gentlemen).

Your well-being is a main priority for him.

He’ll shower you with affection and pamper you lots.

He’ll always talk with you and explain that if you need anything at all, just tell him. It’s no bother nor burden. He’ll always assure you that you’re his partner and that he cares about you, giving plenty of reassurance if you need it.

All his duties will be resumed once you’re feeling better completely, so don’t worry about him being behind or anything. He still manages things remotely from Dawn Winery.

Diluc: "Please do tell me if you need anything, anything at all."

You: "Of course I will, Diluc. I love you."

Diluc: "Love you too."

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა

Tιɠԋɳαɾι 🌻

He’ll brew up some tea or have you drink a glass of water first when you confirm with him that it’s that time.

He has plenty of medicine and herbs on hand to ease your cramps and maybe the nausea caused by them.

He’ll let you have snacks but will also make sure you have balanced meals, going for the healthy approach.

Don’t be afraid of your mood changes or swings; he understands. He’s not going to be mad if you end up snapping at him.

He’ll try to limit his job as a Forest Ranger so he can keep an eye on you and take care of you.

The first time it happened, he thought you’d come down with some sort of sickness until you told him what was happening. He understood and went out of his way to help you (though he did end up going on a ten-minute ramble about what you already knew and didn’t need to hear).

If you have back pain, he’ll rub your back for you. If you’re feeling any other discomfort, he’ll do whatever he can to help.

He also tends to give you face kisses and affection. He’s a cuddle person and doesn’t mind you being clingy (none of the men mind you being clingy).

Tighnari: "Now remember what I told you, [Name]?"

You: "Tighnari, we’ve been over this five times already." sigh

Tighnari: "I just need to make sure you’re retaining the information."

You: "This is going to take a while."

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა

[valerie-is-in-the-cupboard]

Taking Care - Part Three - human!Alastor x human!fem!reader

Go to Part One | Part Two. Edit: Sorry if some people have not been tagged in this. I had a problem with managing my taglists and I really hope everything is ok now. Words: ~3700 TW: violence, sexual assault, swearing

You were forced to work as a prep cook for the following week, finding yourself peeling potatoes and chopping onions for the entire day. On one hand, you were glad that you didn't get to see Francis again, but on the other, your bruised and cut fingers weren't so happy about the new position you found yourself in.

"(Y/n)!" you heard your colleague, Marie, whispering to you as she peeked inside the kitchen. "Someone's looking for you."

"Tell Francis I am not allowed to leave the kitchen," you said bluntly, rolling your eyes.

"It's not Francis," Marie said, crossing her arms. "It's Alastor Hartfelt! Don't tell me you're gonna turn him down."

"What?" you said, your cheeks getting slightly flushed as you heard it. "He wants to see me?"

"Yes! He said he wants you to serve him." you smiled slightly as you heard her, but you quickly turned away.

"I can't."

"What?! Why?"

"If Morrison finds out I am serving clients instead of chopping onions he's gonna cut my pay," you explained, knowing that your boss kept an eye on you since the glass incident.

"Morrison left to see his side girlfriend. He's gonna be away for a while." Marie approached you. "Come on! It's just one serving. It will take you five minutes. Out of all men, you can't be a bitch to him too!"

You scoffed. "And why would that be?"

"Because he is the Alastor Hartfelt?" you chuckled at her reason, putting on your waitress apron.

"Fine. I'll take his order and that's it. Ok?" Marie nodded and walked in front of you to make sure Morrison was not around. She nodded and you exited right after, looking around the diner.

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Alastor, looking through some book, a soft smile on his face. You stopped in your tracks for a moment, taking a deep breath before you hesitantly made your way to his table. His eyes met yours, the smile on his face subtly widening and you could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks.

"Why, hello there, my dear." He greeted, setting the book down in his lap.

“Good evening, Alastor!” you say, clearing your throat. “I heard you were a bit demanding with Marie.” You smiled, trying to mask the flutter of nervousness in your stomach.

Alastor chuckled softly. “My apologies for that, my dear. I can be quite demanding at times.” He stood up and gently placed a kiss on your wrist, just as he had done when you first met. You looked down, a smile tugging at your lips as you tried to hide your flushed cheeks. His gaze, however, remained fixed on you, scrutinizing every subtle movement.

"I'm sorry for last night... Hope you managed to get the stain out," you said.

"Oh, don't worry about that dear. I managed to remove the stain just fine." He smiled, taking a seat back on his chair, his eyes still fixed on your face. "But I do wish to finally try that pie my friend talked about yesterday."

"And a black coffee?" you asked, remembering about his order.

"Exactly." He confirmed, resting his chin on his hand. "You have quite a good memory, my dear." You chuckled at his compliment.

"Is Francis coming too?" you asked, thinking he was just late to their meeting.

Alastor shook his head, his smile turning into an amused smirk. "No, today I'm here all by myself. Are you disappointed?"

"I couldn't have been happier," you mumbled, hoping he wouldn't hear you, knowing that it would be rude to talk this way about his friend. But the truth was that you were relieved that the asshole wasn't here tonight, especially after the events from last night.

Alastor chuckled again, his eyes narrowing slightly as he heard your muttering. "Did you say something, dear?" he teased.

"Who? Me? Nothing at all." you laughed.

Alastor smirked, leaning back in his chair, watching you attentively. "Is that so? Because it sounded like you muttered something about being glad I came alone."

"I said I'm glad I only have one pie to bring." you walked away, your cheeks still red from the encounter. You entered the kitchen and started to prepare the coffee. The door opened, making you jump slightly, hoping it was not Morrison.

"You are such a bad friend!" Marie said to you, her arms full of dishes. "When did you meet him?!"

"Yesterday," you explained.

"And you didn't think to tell me?!"

"I was on shift with Lana. It actually scares me no one found out to be honest." you joked, knowing how much Lana liked to tell people about everything that happened at the diner. "Any sign of Morrison?" you asked, placing the coffee and the pie on a tray.

"Nope. Be careful not to fall." she teased, as you walked past her.

You returned to Alastor's table, making sure you didn't drop anything. Alastor smiled up at you as you placed his order in front of him, his eyes sparkling curiously. "Thank you, my dear," he said, looking down at the steaming pie and coffee.

"You know my boss would kill me if he saw me, right? I'm not supposed to serve tonight... or this week."

Alastor chuckled, his smile widening. "Oh, I don't doubt it, darling. But sometimes it's nice to break the rules a bit, don't you think?"

He took a bite of the pie, his face lighting up with pleasure. "Mmmm, delightful, my dear! A bit too sweet for my taste, but not a bad choice at all." he exclaimed, his eyes flickering back up to you.

You chuckled. "The diner down the street has an even better one, trust me." you joked. "Now, if there's no other problem, I have to return to the kitchen."

Alastor held up a hand to stop you, his smile never fading. "Actually, my dear, there is something I wish to talk with you about," he said, tilting his head slightly.

You quickly looked at Marie, who signalled to you that Morrison was still out of sight. "Ok, I have a few minutes."

Alastor smiled a hint of excitement in his eyes. "Wonderful," he said. "One of my good friends has a party this Saturday night and I was hoping you could join me," he said. "If... it's not too bold of me, of course."

You got flustered at his invitation, fidgeting with your fingers. "Alastor… I… I am not really allowed to… have conversations like these with my customers." you said, looking at the ground.

"Oh, my dear, don't worry. I won't get you into trouble. I know how to be discreet." he reassured you, resting his chin on his hand and studying you.

"I'm sorry, Alastor... That just won't do."

Alastor's smile faltered for a moment, but it quickly returned. "Well, I respect your decision, my dear," he said, leaning back in his chair. "But I must admit, I thought you would say yes."

You faked a smile. "Please, refer to Marie if you have any problem for the night. My boss could return and it would really bring me a lot of trouble," you said, stepping away from the table.

Alastor nodded in understanding. "Of course, my dear. Don't want to get you into any more trouble than I already did," he said. "It was lovely to see you tonight, even if it was just for a short while."

You quickly made your way to the kitchen, closely followed by Marie who almost got hit by the door once you entered.

"(Y/n), wait! What happened?" she asked.

"He invited me to some kind of pompous party," you explained, changing your apron.

"That's... kind of straightforward, yes. But maybe he thinks since he is so well known that..."

"What?" you cut her off. "That I'll just sleep with him after seeing him just once?"

"Maybe it's not what he meant..."

"Marie... why would someone like him want to take someone like me to a fancy party? Besides, it wouldn't be safe with all these murders going on lately."

"Yeah, you're right I guess... About the murders thing, I mean," she explained. "Perhaps he actually wants to get to know you but... maybe he's not used to courting anymore. Maybe he got used to girls agreeing with him about everything he says." She got closer to you, pressing her arm on your shoulder. "Wait a few days. See how things turn out. If you feel like giving him a chance, do so. That's how I met my Jackson after all."

You smiled thinking about her and her husband. Jackson really turned out to be lovely, different from many men, and maybe she was right. Maybe Alastor was the same, but you had to wait. The men you met weren't exactly the best examples of good people, but that didn't mean all of them were like that.

The following nights passed quietly, with no one calling you out of the kitchen. Yet, you knew he had come. The urge to sneak a glance into the diner was too strong to resist, curious to see if he would still show up after your rejection. And he did. But he never asked about you, leaving you uncertain about what to think.

Perhaps he had found another waitress to invite to that party, or maybe he wasn’t interested at all. You tried to convince yourself it was for the best, pushing the incident to the back of your mind. Instead, you focused on doing your job well, hoping Morrison might notice and either give you a raise or allow you to serve again.

Late that Friday night, you were the last to leave the diner. Morrison had asked you to complete the inventory before locking up. After a final check to ensure everything was in order, you stepped outside and locked the door. But just as you turned to leave, you felt strong hands shove you roughly against the glass. Startled, you recognized the man—he was a regular who made the girls uneasy, so much so that Morrison had thrown him out on more than one occasion when he got too handsy.

"Hello, sweetheart," he sneered, his face uncomfortably close to yours. Your heart pounded wildly as you tried to scream, but fear choked your voice. Trembling, you struggled, but his grip only tightened. "Did that bastard leave you alone tonight? Doesn’t he know bad things could happen to you?" he taunted.

His hand slid under your skirt, gripping your thigh harshly and moving higher.

"Stop! Please!" you begged, only to be met with a sharp slap that sent a burning pain across your cheek.

"Shut up! You’re going to take everything I give you."

He pressed his hand against you, the pain intensifying as he rubbed. Tears blurred your vision, and just as despair threatened to overwhelm you, there was a sudden loud bang. The man’s grip on your wrists vanished, and you fell to the cold concrete.

His cries of pain filled the air as you looked up, dazed. There he was—Alastor—his usual smirk replaced with a serious expression. He knelt down in front of you, his eyes filled with concern as he gently touched your bruised cheek.

"Are you alright, my dear?" he asked softly, his voice calm and soothing. You nodded, and he helped you to your feet. The man was still writhing on the ground, blood seeping from a wound on his head, a large brick lying nearby. "Wait in my car, dear. There's a phone down the street. I need to call the police to report this, alright?" You nodded again, and he guided you to his car, opening the door and locking it behind you, giving you a much-needed sense of safety.

You stood there for about an hour, watching Alastor talk to different officers and that man being taken into custody. As policemen left one by one, Alastor made his way to the car, getting into the driving seat, his eyes scanning over your bruised face. He sighed, a mix of anger and concern on his face. His fingers gripped your chin, making sure there weren't any other bruises. "I've always believed a man's hands should be used at work... not for bruising women..."

"What were you doing here?" you whispered, your gaze still lowered to the floor.

"I came to see you, dear. Marie told me you're working late tonight," He reached out for your hand, taking it into his. "It kills me to see you with a single bruise on you, darling," he added, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles.

"I don't know how to thank you, Alastor... If you wouldn't have showed up..." you said, breaking down into crying again just thinking about what could've happened.

Alastor's expression softened at the sight of your crying, and he gently pulled you into his arms, holding you close to his chest. "Shhh... Don't mention it, darling," he said, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. You sobbed, bringing your arm to your swollen cheek, the pain less noticeable but still there. He pulled away, starting the engine. "Where do you live?"

"3023 Annunciation Street," you murmured, and Alastor nodded before driving off. The ride was brief, just ten minutes from your workplace.

When you arrived, Alastor stepped out and opened the door for you. "I can take it from here, Alastor," you said, trying to sound firm. But he frowned, clearly not happy with your dismissal.

"Don't be ridiculous, my dear. I'll walk you to your door," he insisted, offering his arm as he helped you out of the car. With a gentle yet steady grip around your waist, he guided you to your doorstep. Once there, he leaned casually against the wall, his eyes softening as they landed on your bruised cheek. "Do you have any medical supplies?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Don't worry. This ain't my first rodeo..." You tried to force a smile but winced at the pain in your cheek.

"I don't care if it's your 'first rodeo' or your hundredth one, my dear, you are injured and I won't let you just brush it off," he stated, his grip on you tightening. You placed an arm on his chest, reassuringly.

"I'm fine, Alastor," you said, your voice firm. "It's nothing some ice and rest can't solve."

Alastor looked at you for a moment, his eyes flickering between your bruised face and your hand on his chest. He eventually sighed, his gaze softening. "You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" he said, a hint of amused smile on his lips.

"Unfortunately..." you smiled.

Alastor chuckled, shaking his head. "Unfortunate indeed," he mumbled, leaning closer to you. "But I guess I admire your determination," he added, his hand cupping your uninjured cheek. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself, alright darling? Ice and rest just like you said."

A shiver ran down your spine when you felt his touch, so gentle against the skin. "I will," you promised. "Hope you have fun at the party tomorrow."

"I think attending without you will suck the fun out of it." he chuckled, making you blush.

"I really doubt it would be good for your reputation to show up with a freshly beaten-up woman by your side, don't you think?" you joked, a hint of regret in your eyes.

Alastor's smile faded at your words, his expression becoming serious. "My reputation is the last thing I'm concerned about right now, my dear," he said, his hand moving from your cheek to your chin, tilting it up slightly. "And I would take you with me in whatever state you are."

You thought for a moment, looking away from his burning gaze. "Is... the invitation still open then?"

A wide grin appeared on Alastor's face, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "It always has been, my dear," he said, gently tucking a strand behind your ear.

"When should I be ready then?"

"The party will start at eight in the evening," he said. "I'll come to pick you up at seven-thirty."

"Very well. I'll see you tomorrow then."

Alastor nodded, his hand lingering on your hair for a moment before he pulled away. "Rest well, my dear," he said, his gaze still fixed on you as he took a few steps back towards his car.

Francis woke up in an abandoned warehouse, his vision blurred as the whole room spun around him. He tried to move, only to realise he was tied up to a chair, a sense of panic washing over him. He tried to scream, but the tape over his mouth stopped him.

The warehouse was bathed in a dim, sickly light that seeped through the grimy windows high up on the walls. The air was thick with the stench of mould and decay, making each breath feel heavy and suffocating.

Alastor stepped from the shadows, a menacing aura surrounding him. He approached Francis slowly, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the empty building. He stopped in front of the tied-up man, his eyes scanning him up and down.

Francis became more distressed, trying to call for help, but to no avail.

Alastor smirked, amused by his attempts. "Save your breath, my friend," he said, his voice low and calm. "No one will hear your cries in here." he circled the man, toying with a knife in his hand. "I have to admit... you passed out so many times I thought you wouldn't wake up anymore."

Alastor stopped behind Francis, his knife still flipping between his slender fingers. "But you did, didn't you? I guess you have some fight in you, after all. Entertaining, really." he said, pressing the sharp tip of the knife against the man's shoulder.

With a quick move, he cut through the skin, earning a cry of pain from him. "Let me tell you about my day, my dear friend..." he pulled back, facing the man again. "I managed to convince that sweet waitress, (y/n), to come to Mimzy's party with me tomorrow... Isn't this delightful?"

The man struggled in his chair, his eyes wide and panicked. "Oh, yes. She had captivated me more than I'd like to admit," he said, his voice almost dreamy. "Now I'm honestly thinking what to do... She would find out eventually about all of the things I've done so... What do you say?" he asked, the man looking up at him with teary eyes. "Should I tell her tomorrow myself... or just wait and see how much it takes for her to find out alone?"

The man's panicked expression turned even more desperate, his eyes pleading. Alastor chuckled, enjoying the terror in his prisoner's eyes. "Oh, the second one sounds like a much more fun game, don't you think?" he taunted, leaning down so his face was closer to the man's.

"Now what should I do if she does find out and wants to turn me in: hide or kill her before she says anything?" Alastor hummed, pretending to think about the question. "I do think the first option is the most logical... No one would believe her word over mine anyway..." he started, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Killing her would bring undesired attention... however..." he added, his eyes narrowing. "If the time called for it, I might have to consider the second. What do you think?" he asked, ripping the band off the man's mouth. "What would you do?"

"You..." the man said in between sobs. "You're sick!"

Alastor shrugged his smile still in place. "Sick? Maybe," he admitted, running the tip of the knife over the man's cheek. "But, my friend, you're the one tied up on a chair in an abandoned warehouse." he laughed. "You know she's so lovely around me... Not scared and intimidated like she was with you. I guess you were the problem after all..."

"You think she'll accept you? That she'll accept the monster that you are?"

Alastor’s smile flickered for a moment before returning, his grip on the knife tightening with a renewed intensity. “Oh, my dear friend… I may be a monster, but she sees something else in me. She might not know my darker side yet, but she will. Eventually, she’ll understand when I reveal how I deal with pests like you… She might even appreciate it.”

"You'll end up in prison... She's smart, she'll figure something out! You'll see!"

Alastor laughed at the man's words, his eyes cold and dangerous. "So now she's not just a dumb waitress anymore, right? Just like you used to believe a few days ago? Now she's gonna be your saviour..." Alastor mocked. "She doesn't give a fuck about you, Francine! No one does, really."

"The police will find me... Let me go and I won't say a word, Alastor. Please!" the man begged.

Alastor let out a cold laugh, his eyes filled with malice. "Oh, Francine... You really think I'll let you go just like that?" he taunted, his voice low and dangerous. "I can't risk having you spoil my little game. Besides..." He gestured to the abandoned warehouse. "You really think anyone is looking for you?"

"Of... Of course, they are!"

Alastor laughed again, the sound echoing through the empty warehouse. "Oh, you really think so? Do you really think anyone cares about your disappearance? They probably think you ran away with some woman and will eventually return in a month or so... like you always do. In fact, (y/n) seemed happy you're not around anymore."

"They... They will find me... I know it!"

Alastor chuckled, shaking his head. "Denial, my friend. Such a beautiful thing," he said, his tone mocking. "But let me assure you, Francine, no one is looking for you. No one even cares enough to notice you're gone."

Alastor chuckled a bit.

"It's just you and me and the fun has just begun..."

Tags: @ratsematary @littlebluefishtail @starryhiraeth @lafy-taffy @harmfulb1tch @martinys-world @n0tmentallystable @xalygatorx @venusdandy

[babybatscreationsv2]

Grindr

Marvel | Starker

They're working in the lab when Tony hears the Grindr chime on his phone. Only, his phone is on silent and Peter is the only other person in the room.

Rating: Explicit

For my H <3

Warnings and tags below

Warnings/tags: embarrassment, light daddy kink, possessiveness, rough sex, face fucking

Tony flinched at the familiar notification chime. He was sure he put his phone on vibrate before Peter came in. Of course Peter probably had no idea what that sound was, but he still jumped up and grabbed his phone. He keyed the volume down only to frown at the device. The volume was already off. He put the phone down and even in his brilliant mind it still took about three seconds to click.

He looked across the lab to see Peter, hard at work. His phone peeked out of the back pocket of his shorts. Tony left his station and crossed the floor.

He swiped the phone out of Peter's pocket to a surprised, "Hey!"

There on the screen was a familiar icon.

"What are you..." Peter said. His face turned a deep red. "Give it back." He snatched the phone back from Tony's hand.

"What's that you got there?" Tony raised his eye brows.

"I'm just working on-"

Tony held up a finger. "Ah," he silenced. "Don't play dumb. The phone."

"You uh... you heard that?"

"I'm not that old, kid. I can hear a noise from a few feet away."

Peter stood frozen, seeming to struggle to find an excuse. Then some sort of revelation crossed his face.

"How do you know what that sound is?" Peter crossed his arms over his chest.

Tony blinked. Somehow he hadn't considered being cross-examined. "Because I am an adult. What are you doing with a hookup app on your phone?"

"I'm also an adult," Peter pointed out.

"You're still a little young for Grindr. You don't have the experience to be hooking up with random men you met on an app."

"How do you know what sort of experience I have?"

"Stop trying to turn this back on me. You should be more careful. Hookups like that can be dangerous. For your life and your health. And what about Spider-Man, huh? You can't be reckless."

Peter pulled out his phone while Tony lectured. He opened the notification to see the suggested profile that had caused all of this. 'TS - Online now - 0 feet away' the screen said. Peter swallowed as he looked at the profile.

"Hey, listen when I'm speaking," Tony said. He snapped his fingers over the top of the phone.

Peter turned his phone around. "I've seen you changing before, but somehow I don't think I've ever seen that much of you."

Tony stared at the image of his own bare chest, arch reactor edited out, jeans unzipped and pulled down almost too far. It only took a second for his mind to process enough for him to know that he needed his phone right now. He ran for it. He heard the sound of a webshooter and dove for the workbench. His hand landed on the phone just in time for Peter to yank it out from under him.

Peter stared at him, mortified, clutching his phone in both hands. "Mr. Stark..."

"Give me that phone." He pointed his finger threateningly.

"I can't." Peter shook his head.

"Why is your filter even set old enough for me to see you?"

"Why is yours set so young?"

"Peter," Tony growled. "Stop hooking up with random New Yokers!"

"Make me!" he shouted back.

All at once, Tony arm wrapped around him and pulled him close. He crushed their mouths together way too rough. Peter moaned much too enthusiastically. It was all too much and they both were greedy. Tony's phone thumped against the ground as it slipped from Peter's hand. He was too busy running his hands over Tony's chest. They kissed until it was too much for them to breathe, but Tony's mouth followed the line of his throat. Peter gasped and tipped his head back. His hands pulled Tony closer.

"We should slow down," Tony panted into his shoulder.

"Can't keep up, old man?" Peter teased.

Tony picked him up and set him down on the workbench. One hand grabbed him by the hair while the other pulled Peter's hips forward. He was off balance with little leverage to do anything about it, but Tony was grinding their hips together while he kissed him again so he wasn't really trying.

Peter's mouth was soft and sweet. Little whines traveled up his throat whenever Tony's tongue met his. It only made him wonder what sort of noises he'd make getting his mouth fucked. He was so easy to manhandle despite his superior strength. Which only meant that he liked being manhandled. He was letting Tony do it, eating it up too judging by the way he obediently stayed right where Tony put him even as he tugged at the roots of his hair and all but fucked him through his jeans.

Just the thought that Peter was out fucking old men his age, he wanted to bite and mark every inch of his skin. Tattoo his name right on his ass. But he had to earn that didn't he? He had to make sure the boy came back to him and forgot that stupid app. He had to have him.

Tony ran his hand up Peter's thigh. He spread his legs pushed his hips toward him nearly falling off the table. Tony chuckled as he moved him back into place.

"Do you need something, Pete?"

"Please," he gasped. His eyes were glazed and his lips swollen. Tony suddenly couldn't bare how tight his jeans were.

"How about you get daddy's cock wet and we'll see you can earn something more."

Peter nodded, already sliding down off the workbench. He dropped to the floor and started on Tony jeans, ripping his belt free and opening up the zipper. He felt fabric tears in his carelessness. With Tony's cock in his hand, he didn't even hesitate. His lips around the head while both hands held him at the base.

"Fuck, kid," Tony swore, forbidden pleasure curled in his stomach. Peter either didn't hear him or didn't care, he was too busy polishing the head of his dick with his tongue.

Tony grabbed a fistful of his hair. "Open," he ordered.

Peter let go of his cock and opened his mouth wide. He looked up at him as Tony pushed his cock deeper into his mouth, finding the back of his throat. Peter moaned as his mouth was filled up. His tongue kept moving around the bottom of his cock as much as it could.

"Fuck," Tony swore again. "That's a good boy. Your mouth feels so good, baby."

Peter hummed happily, still looking up at him. Tony pulled slowly back, then pushed back inside. The way Peter moaned as he fucked his mouth had him teetering on the edge. He pulled him off of his cock and held himself tightly at the base to save himself the embarrassment.

"I want that ass," he said. He picked Peter up and set him back on the table. The boy hurried to get his own pants off. They stripped off his clothes and Peter laid back on the table. He held on to Tony's shirt, pulling him closer. He looked so pretty all desperate for Tony to fuck him, spreading him legs.

Tony ran a hand over his ass. He spread him open and spit, rubbing it into his hole with his thumb.

"Please," Peter moaned.

"Please what, baby?" Tony teased.

"Fuck me, please." Tony pushed his thumb inside and Peter whined like a slut.

"Are you sure? We could call one of your grindr daddy's instead?"

"Please, Tony," Peter begged. He looked gone, wrecked, like he could barely understand what Tony was saying.

He replaced his thumb with the head of his cock, pushing in, making them both moan. Peter grabbed his shoulders, whining desperately.

"That's my good boy," Tony breathed. "Take daddy's cock."

"Yes," Peter gasped. "Please daddy." He whispered as Tony gave him more, burying himself in Peter's little ass, trying desperately not to cum too soon but the boy was too pretty to hold out.

"You gonna be mine, Peter? Gonna let me fuck you whenever I call?"

"Yes, please please." His head fell back against the table and his hand wrapped around his cock. He stroked himself furiously, on the edge and drunk on Tony's cock.

"That's a good boy," Tony purred. "Gonna cum for me?"

"Yes-" Peter panted. "I'm- gonna cum-"

"Look at me," Tony ordered. Peter lifted his head. Their eyes met and a whining moan broke from his swollen lips. He came, splattering cum across his belly, his chest, a few drops landing on his own cheek.

"Fuck, Peter," Tony moaned. He squeezed hips, fucking into him deeper and finally letting go, letting himself cum in his ass.

Tony bent down. He ran his tongue up his belly, cleaning up the cum on his skin. Peter laughed and Tony smiled. He leaned down to kiss him. Peter's hands held the back of his head, holding him close. His knees squeezed Tony's hips.

Tony looked at him, face warm and pink, eyes wide, lashes wet. Peter bit his lip.

"You should uninstall that app..." Tony said innocently.

Peter gave him a smile that was all mischief. "You'll have to make sure I don't need it."