#almost full marks on the multiple choice!!!

[truethes]

your girl passed 🥹💕

[onlyseokmins]

show and tell • l.s.m.

Pairing: lee seokmin x afab!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), best friends/idiots to lovers!au Warnings: swearing, lotssss of teasing/switch dynamics, tickling, reader is obsessed w/ seokmin's body, they're idiots your honor and they're a lil bit in L-word 🤮, mingyu thrown under the bus as always, ONE BAD PUN BC I THINK I'M FUNNY, sex is as silly as me, BIG COCK SEOK 🗣️ like he's fucking huge okay, oral (both rec. kind of), attempt at 69 but seok's a menace the entire time, fingering, CRYING/TEARS, possession, biting, marking, multiple orgasms, squirting, lil bit of cumplay ig?, mentions of prev partners, overstim... i think that's it lmk if i missed smth 🥵😰 WC: 6.5k A/N: um so this is the most self-indulgent thing i dared to post you're WELCOME i shall now go die in a hole to never be seen ever again... happy belated birthday to the loml ugh ty to all the frens that let me sob in their dms and to @onlymingyus for helping me with a damn title 💖

The commonly shared belief among your friend group was that Seokmin is abnormally soft when it comes to you.

You thought they were full of shit. 

The bestest buddy in the world was also the softest ray of morning sunshine to ever exist in general. You could barely count on one hand the number of people he genuinely ever showed disdain towards or didn't get along with. All in all — it was extremely hilarious in your opinion because Seokmin's fluffy personality greatly contrasted with his lean, sharp physique. 

Ironically, the main reason you ended up in this position.

Just moments before, you were on his bed and caged between his arms. The dog tag necklace you'd gifted, engraved with his birth date and initials, swinging in the same rhythm that your heart rapidly beats with the small space separating your bodies. A sly grin raises the corners of his lips, the long fingers of his left-hand creeping up to trail lightly at your sides.

"I know you have abs."

Seokmin's hands fly up to wrap defensively around his body, though all in good jest. "You can't just ask a dude how many abs he has!"

"And you can't lie to me by saying you don't have any! Do you know how many of your dude-bros have blabbed about your crazy gym routine to me? Can you even guess how many girls bitched at me 'cause you weren't shirtless at my pool party? As if that's my fault?"

"But it's mine?"

"No, all I have to do is prove them wrong. So, show me the goods!"

You sucked at making up your mind — what to eat, what to wear, what to watch, what to do — okay, but who doesn't? It's something Seokmin was very familiar with, hence him always having to pick up wherever you left off. He also knows just as well that once you've settled on something, you'll see it through to the very end. Eventually. 

Which normally works out in his favor except in moments like now. So he resorts to a different preventative measure — tickling the decisiveness right out of you.

Like hell you'll let him do what he wants.

Maybe the whispers about him being soft for you were right. After all, it's to your utter benefit when you push at his shoulder. Only a bit unbalanced, he easily falls onto his side and you scramble to climb on top of him at record speed, one arm pinning Seokmin's wrists against the pillow beneath his head. 

Unfortunately, this looks like one of your 3,718,493,842 very bad choices in life. Once again, something you didn't think all the way through. Sure, you've bested Seokmin at light wrestling and play-fighting before — back when you were toddlers and all he did was cry.

Now, at adult ages, it seems like a horrible, terrible, very bad idea to have him beneath you. Your fingers play with the hem of his black t-shirt that's ridden up ever so slightly, unbearablely close to the leather band of his silver belt buckle. 

Seokmin's pupils are blown wide as he looks up at you with a strange, almost starry-eyed look of surprise. Black bangs flipped up across the dark gray of his blanket, silver chain askew shining against his collarbones, mouth slightly ajar.

Suddenly you're hyper-aware of sitting right on top of him, completely obliterating the distance between your bodies earlier, and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination from what you can feel nestled in between your legs. 

"Would it be inappropriate of me to take your shirt off right now?" you can't help but ask.

He laughs, all breathless and high-pitched like he does when he's nervous. "You're asking for permission?"

"Seokmin," you whine and shift your hips in protest without thinking. Another bad move. Oops. "I'm trying to be polite."

"You have me pinned to my bed with the intent to strip me and you're worried about being polite?"

"Oh, please, you could easily break free."

It's true. His wrists twitch a bit under your grasp, almost like he's attempting to do just that but you're faster once more. Or he's just letting you have your way with him. Whatever the case, your other hand firmly holds both of his down which only brings your faces closer together.

"Don't move."

"Okay," Seokmin agrees and licks his lips, "at least you know what consent means."

"Are you consenting?"

"Depends on what to."

"Me taking off your shirt."

"… Should I be flattered?"

"Very."

Brown eyes close, his brow furrowing. For a minute, you think you've accidentally taken things too far and are about to quickly apologize and backpedal before things backfire until his lips quirk up and Seokmin snorts.

"Never imagined you'd be stripping me like this."

You would agree because what the hell? All this for some abs? But the way he says it makes you pause.

"Have you imagined this before?"

Expecting him to panic or something, you're even more taken aback when he bites his lip like he's holding back more laughter. 

"And what if I have? You'll be offended even if I lie." 

You narrow your eyes challengingly while his sparkle. "Are you… flirting with me?" 

"That is not how I flirt but okay." 

"You're being weird. Weird weird. Like super-duper weird." 

"Says the one soaking my jeans, right now." 

You want to scream. Instead, you let out a scandalized gasp, eyes widening. The effort it takes to bolt away means you must release Seokmin. Something that doesn't even cross your mind with the shame heating up your cheeks, mortification setting off every sirening alarm in your nervous system.

Your first mistake.

Countless other mistakes will be made after this, but looking back — could they really be watered down to just a mistake after the end results? Why you're even so embarrassed in the first place is beyond you. And your best friend has zero intentions of letting you get away from him.

The minute Seokmin's hands are freed, one flies to keep your hips pressed against his while the other gently braces your back. Lifting his torso up with insane core strength he clearly was lying about not having, you have no choice but to wrap an arm instinctively around his neck like a koala. Your other hand curls into a fist, clinging against the fabric straining with the flex of his chest muscles while simultaneously attempting to push him back in a futile effort.

"Breathe," Seokmin murmurs in mild concern. His eyes crinkle as he smiles encouragingly. "Breathe for me, babe."

You hadn't even realized you were holding your breath. If you inched any closer forward, your nose would brush against his, and leaning too far back would end up with him on top of you again.

"This is all your fault, babe."

"You're the one that started this in the first place, babe."

"All I wanted was to see your abs," your voice drops to a pathetic whisper, "babe."

"All you had to do was ask, silly."

"I did!"

To your horror, he leans in even closer with a devious smirk so his nose brushes tenderly against yours. "For yourself. Not others."

"What… what are you playing at Seokmin?"

"It's like you misinterpret everything I do on purpose."

"I — "

"If you think I'm just playing around you're sorely mistaken."

A beat of silence. "Then what are you doing?"

"Nothing," he says innocently even though the hand on your back trails upwards and not-so-innocently unclasps the bra underneath your shirt. 

Your jaw drops. Of course, your modest top is still on and the shoulder straps keep your undergarment in place. Yet, you feel naked with the way Seokmin shamelessly ogles your covered chest and lets out a satisfied groan, pleased that you weren't wearing a sports bra. After all, it's not the first time he's done that for you — but it is under this strange context.

"Seokmin — "

"I'll do whatever you want me to do. Tell me." His voice is low, rougher than you've ever heard, causing tingles to shoot down your spine at the way he says your name. "I should take full responsibility for whatever happens."

His last sentence echoes over and over inside your head because yeah, what the hell is going to happen? — until you blurt out, "You find me attractive?"

Finally, Seokmin acts the way you expect and are familiar with, his shy demeanor coming out like sun rays peeking through overcast clouds. Bowing his head, forehead flopping on your shoulder, he admits defeat. 

"As if that's even a question, goofball."

"No way — there's no way! My bestie, you, find me, your bestie, like. Hot?"

"Look, I know it's cliché to fall for your friend and all that stupid shit," he grumbles, "but you don't have to sound so shocked. I already know thanks to Mingyu."

You freeze. "Know what?"

"… You're really going to make me say it?" he laughs in disbelief and shakes his head against your shoulder, causing your loose strap to slide down. "When my pride's already in tatters?"

Urging Seokmin to pick up his head and look at you, you face his brown eyes straight-on and cup his flushed cheek. "What did Mingyu say that crushed your pride?"

He sighs. "He told you I liked you before I ever got the chance to say it myself to you."

Your eyebrows raise. "He did?"

"Yeah. And I thought you just. Well. I don't know, I thought you were just ignoring it out of consideration or something. Obviously. Since you didn't say anything."

"… All 'cause I was pretty sure he blabbered about accidentally spilling the beans to you about me liking you."

The both of you pause, silently cursing poor Mingyu. He did mean well. Somehow.

"You're joking right," Seokmin whispers, "is this real?"

"What makes you think it's not."

"Because you've only ever returned my feelings in my dreams."

Your pride swells at that, wrapping your arms around his neck daringly. "Dream about me often?"

He falls backward on the bed, taking you down with him with your bodies pressed tightly together. You admire his handsome features with renewed thirst while he shuts his eyes, no longer forcing yourself to view him through the platonic lenses you'd kept on for so long.

Then his eyes flash back open and you flinch at the burning desire blazing within them. He's never looked at you like that, at least not directly and it ignites the equal yearning you feel for him like a match.

"Yeah," he answers your teasing question, "I do."

Just the thought alone makes you dizzy. Your best friend, your sweet and lovely Seokmin who puts up with all your bullshit, laying here on this exact bed with thoughts of you consuming his mind. Pining for you. Wanting you. Shit, you think he deserves to have all his fantasies come true. And you're more than happy to help him out. 

"What do we do in your dreams?"

"Everything. Anything."

An iron-clad grip will probably leave bruises behind but it's not enough to stop you from a slow, lazy grind of your hips. You sit up for more leverage, hands on his broad shoulders for support, watching with smugness oozing out of your smile as he struggles to continue his wholesome thoughts.

"Holding hands, cute dates, buying you pretty things… "

"C'mon babe," you tease, "what else?"

"Ah… " Seokmin sighs, throwing an arm over his face to hide his eyes though it can't hide the flush creeping up his neck, to his cheeks, and coloring his cute ears. "You know… "

"Nah, I don't. Not unless you tell me." 

"… Just gets lonely in bed. At night. Cold."

"We've slept together before when I've stayed the night and vice versa."

"Mhm, but never with my dick inside of you."

You coo, trying to keep up your unbothered façade as though the quickening pace of your hips isn't making an insane mess of his lap. 

"Poor little Seokminnie had to jerk off all by himself." Leaning down to whisper maliciously in the ear that isn't shielded by his elbow, "Or did you do it while I was laying next to you because you were so frustrated?"

"As if," he scoffs, "and I'm not sure what you mean by little."

Like a switch has flipped, two hands return and grip your hips, keeping them stationary. To prove his point hard, it's Seokmin's turn to grind his pelvis up into the moist heat of your covered cunt while holding you still to feel every agonizingly delicious drag of his cock. The way he can feel you pulse against him even through your thin shorts, the devastating whimper that leaves your mouth when the rough fabric manages to catch your clit just right make up for the mildly gross stickiness of precum inside of his jeans.

A sadistic grin leers at you, almost a snarl. Such a jarring contrast to the normally soft, fond looks you're used to and a shudder runs through your body at the shock, another rush of heated arousal dripping from your pussy.

It's cute, Seokmin thinks to himself, how you put up this act and think you're the one in control when it's really me, the one whose lap you're on.

"Can you even blame me?" he growls, not waiting nor expecting any answer as he sits back up, jostling your body in the process. "I was so good, so well-behaved in front of you. And yet you waltz around me with barely anything on all the damn time, flirting with all my friends in that skimpy bathing suit without a care in the world… "

You don't even know when you ended up on your back. Staring wide-eyed into Seokmin's narrowed ones, his eyelids fluttering as he recalls these memories, fist clenched and arms tense as he towers on top of you once again. He's panting, lower body still pressed against yours.

"Batting your eyelashes at me, giggling, grinding that sweet ass all over me on the dancefloor and then skipping away even though I wanted to touch you so badly… and if that's not torturing enough, constantly showing up in my dreams, always out of reach… So yeah, I'm just a little frustrated, sorry."

"I'm… I'm… I-I didn't know — "

"I know that. I know that and that's why I felt like utter trash. You didn't mean any of it and here I am throwing my disgusting fantasies on you."

"Don't say that," you plead and cup the side of his face, running your thumb repeatedly across his mole. "You're not trash, Seokmin. I wasn't thinking — I mean I didn't realize… I just — "

"Please," he interrupts suddenly, desperately begging. "Please tell me… if this… if this is going to be a spur of the moment, out of pity, and a one-time thing… please tell me you don't want this. That you don't want me — "

"I want to kiss you." 

You watch his body tremble before he takes a deep breath, smiling up at him as his eyes gradually open. They blink owlishly at you, nearly crossing in his attempt to scan your face if he really heard you correctly as you guide him by the jawline close to your lips.

"I want you, Seokmin."

To be honest, you've never really imagined what it'd feel like to kiss your best friend. The movies you've watched make it out to be magical, enchanting, and something out of a fairy tale. Sure, maybe they're not wrong but the majority of entertainment is the bad boy turning sweet or a soft boy remaining a gentleman.

Nothing's prepared you for awakening the beast in a good boy.

He kisses you with a ferocity that steals your breath from the get-go. A sensual clash of teeth, tongue, spit, love bites, and nips. Seokmin always had an enjoyable, pleasing tone to his voice and it sounds even better when he's grunting and groaning in the laidback battle for dominance.

Somehow, your clothes are merely disheveled and not ripped off despite continual tangling and grabbing at each other. Once again, you find yourself back on top as you gasp for air — having to push him away when he chases after you for more kisses. If you thought he was pretty before, he's even lovelier with shiny, swollen lips and a dazed, hungry look in his eyes.

Despite pouting at the sudden distance, the man astonishingly looks at you like you've hung the stars in the sky. As if he's never seen the ugly sides of you, your lowest and most embarrassing moments. His gaze trails from where you sit on his thighs to the rise and fall of your heaving chest to your blown-out pupils with such appreciation and awe that your cheeks are set aflame.

Although maybe you're just seeing a reflection of your own adoration. Running your hand down the toned length of one of his arms, you intertwine your fingers together. A smirk returns to your face as he squeezes back, distracted.

"So, can I see your abs now?"

Seokmin groans your name and chews on his lip, uncertain. You shrug and toy with the hem of your own shirt before decisively pulling it over your head. A blissed-out sigh escapes his mouth at the reveal.

Your bra is undone — thanks to his earlier mischief — and barely covers your breasts. Threatening to fall off at the slightest move, you pretend to protect what little modesty you might have and keep it in place with a free hand. 

"Tit for tat?" you tease.

He audibly gulps and you watch his Adam's apple bob. You wait patiently, letting him go at his own pace and back out if he wants. Though he does relent because he feels at comfort with you, revealing his gorgeous tan skin and upper body you hadn't seen in what feels like years.

"Omigod…" you gasp out and he cringes, upper body taut with nerves. "You've been hiding a six-pack away from the public for so long?"

"I — "

"I want to touch them."

"Why are you so obsessed with my abs?"

"'cause they're mythical. Like unicorns or… or Bigfoot."

"You're comparing me to a yeti?"

"Not yet��i!"

He rolls his eyes at the ridiculous pun. "I thought I was getting a 'tit for tat'?"

"Yeah," you nonchalantly slide off your loose bra and toss it somewhere on his bedroom floor. Seokmin doesn't even get to relish the bare sight of your tits for his own enjoyment because you're grumbling, "can't even show his best friend his fine ass abs," and he has to correct you.

"Maybe if I was your boyfriend, I'd show them to you all the time."

"Oh? Is that a promise? A threat? A distraction?"

"An offer. A suggestion even."

"It's pretty tempting," you play coy, "can I touch you if I say yes?"

"Only if I can touch you too."

"Then yes." Your pointer finger travels down the flexed crease of his skin to right above his belly button. "Can I see your dick now?"

"But I want… I'd like to… taste you."

"Later," you assure and daringly place a kiss above his waistband. Your hands tug at the belt when his hips stutter upwards. "Please?"

He's gone the moment you flutter your eyelashes at him and so are his ruined jeans. Discarded on the floor to join the growing number of other clothing when he says yes. 

Even Seokmin himself would admit he is indeed too soft for you but his cock certainly isn't. Your eyes nearly bug out when it flops against his stomach, angry red and leaking tears of precum. He grits his teeth at how much it aches, perfect jawline even more prominent. 

His self-esteem would have been dashed to pieces at the devastating frown on your pretty face but it's greatly inflated when all you can do is whimper out, "You're so big… "

"Yeah?"

Your best friend — no, now your boyfriend, you suppose — hisses when you blink at him. 

"There's no way you're gonna fit."

"Hah, 's never been a problem before." Nails dig into his thigh, the little show of possession at the mention of his previous partners wickedly giving Seokmin another ego boost. He's quick to try and appease you though by saying, "don't worry, babe… let me prep and taste you, I'll make it fit I promise and you'll feel good."

"Fuckin' sweet talker." You feel a hand reach out to temptingly slip under the band of your shorts. "Everything about you is always so sweet."

"'m sure you taste even sweeter." 

"Seokmin…" 

"Hm?" His touch grows bolder at the moan of his name, squeezing at the plumpness of your ass. "Will you please let me have a taste? Just wanna help you out." 

You won't be thinking I'm so sweet after this. 

Eager to touch him, you nod and start to take off your shorts but Seokmin is faster. Nearly tearing them off your body in excitement and somehow managing to position your bare lower body right where he wants it. 

Luckily, you're able to face his neglected cock. A shriek leaves your mouth, though, because the hardened tip of his tongue is searching for your clit, lathing and suckling on it when he does find it. 

You try to focus on your prize but it's difficult with the vigor he's attacking your throbbing, needy pussy. Seokmin holds you up high enough that he can leave occasional nips on the inner crease of your hips before harshly licking and sucking up your messy arousal. Shaking his head back and forth with an animalistic growl, all you can do is resort to pitiful kitten licks and slobbering mindlessly on just the side of his cock. 

The more you attempt to wrap your lips fully around the tip, the further down he brings you to his mouth until you're almost suffocating him. A brutal assault where you can only twitch your hips to which he agreeably grunts, gliding you across his open mouth ever so slightly. Unable to escape the throes of pleasure, not that you would want to — you give up and give in. 

Tears fill your eyes as your body convulses and shakes, staring longingly at his cock through bleary eyes. Seokmin's muffled moans as he gladly helps you ride out your orgasm with your fluttering hole clamping around his tongue barely registering in your ears. You feel like you're floating while underwater in the most delicious of ways. 

Seokmin manages to nudge you enough so he can catch his breath while waiting for you to come back to him. A fond smile on his lips when you're finally able to move and he helps you flop by his side. 

"Why on earth are you a pussy-eating pro?" 

"You keep complaining about things most people don't find fault in." 

"I wanted to suck the life out of you, not the opposite." You reach for his cock again but he stops you — again — and rubs the back of your hand consolingly while he wipes the wet mess you'd left on his face with a smirk like a badge of honor he takes pride in. "Lee Seokmin!" 

"Shhh, don't whine, baby. Almost there, I'll let you have my dick soon. Give it to you real good. Now that I've confirmed what a tight, good little pussy you have for myself, gotta make sure you're stretched out enough. Don't wanna hurt you." 

"It already hurts, 'm so empty, 'min." 

"Greedy," he snickers, knowing you're full of shit, and sits up. "After I just stuffed you with my tongue so well that you complained about it, now you want me again?" 

"Always want you. Always have. Didn't realize it before but it's true. 'm sorry, Seokkie, need you so bad though." 

"Lucky I like you so much. Now turn around, let me see that lovely ass of yours." 

You do as he says, clambering up on all fours and arching your back prettily, looking over your shoulder to see what he'll do next. 

The sight alone is a wet dream. He's licking his lips, brown eyes honed in on your puffy, seeping cunt until he's snapped out of the trance when he realizes you're watching him. He sticks out his tongue to pull a silly face and you shake your head in disbelief. 

A finger traces up your spine before it turns into his palm pushing down between your shoulder blades so your cheek is pressed into the pillows. You can just feel the heavy heat of his cock but he pulls away before you can savor it for too long. A constant tease that leaves you whining again in frustration and wiggling your hips enticingly, a futile effort. 

"I know you're desperate. 'm sorry, don't wanna cum too fast and disappoint you though." 

"You won't disappoint me." 

"Nope, I'll make it worthwhile. Promise. We can do whatever positions you want after this. I'd like to see you riding me like you do in my dreams, personally." Watching how you clench at his words, he chuckles. "Knew you'd like that too. Now, let's see…" 

He slips a digit inside your hole muttering, "There we go," and adds another. And another. Three fingers explore your gummy inner walls and he hums in contemplating tones before he begins scissoring motions to get your pussy to further open up. 

Your moans are muffled by the bed and Seokmin simply increases his pace to make them louder with a sneer of satisfaction you don't see. You do feel him kissing down the length of your spine, more love bites that make you squeal at each pinch. 

"So cute and perfect. What 'm I gonna do with you?" he asks and pretends to understand the unintelligible garble to his rhetorical question. "Yeah, that's right, babe. Fuck you even more stupid than you are now 'cause it's what you deserve." 

Retracting his fingers, licking them clean, and mumbling how pretty you are — then he's finally wrapping a veined hand around his even veinier cock to tease at your entrance. 

He plays with your wetness, coating his tip with it and making both your mouth and pussy drool. And god, does Seokmin relish the vision before him. 

You're everything to him and that thought alone makes him bite down on his lower lip, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. He doesn't want to fuck this up. Every muscle in his body tenses when he takes a deep breath and eases himself inside, enraptured with the way your soft pussy lips part and cling around his length to welcome him. 

When he glances up to check how you're doing, he has to reign himself back from exploding or thrusting insensitively all the way in. The way your eyes roll up, a stain of drool left on his blanket, and the feeble thank you's followed by a filthy series of moans — he lets out a string of curses that would make even a depraved whore blush out of shyness. 

"S'big, s'full," you hiccup, clenching and unclenching in rapid successions that has Seokmin wheezing, though he tries to comfort you. 

"'m not even all the way inside, sweetheart. Bear with me, babe. Breathe. I've got you." 

"Got me… hella fuckin' full."

"You can take it. I know you can." He pushes his hips forward a bit more. "There you go, sweetheart. Relax just a tiny bit… Yeah, that's it…" 

Praises fall from his lips and you sob at both the goddamn stretch and unfathomable pleasure. You already feel him buried in your gut reaching spots you didn't even know existed by the time he's almost bottomed out for his pelvis to press temptingly against your ass — you're pretty sure you can feel him in your lungs at this point.

"S'deep…!" 

"Feel so fucking good… d'ya need me to pull out a little, baby? You still with me?" 

You answer him by bravely using whatever strength — or more like the urge for him to split you open and take it all because you want to be as good as he's telling you that you are for him — and push yourself back so he's fully seated within your tight cunt. 

You're probably screaming if your raspy throat and ringing ears are anything to go by. He's panting and rubbing his forehead with a groan. 

"Fuck, what are you so hot for?" 

The air feels like it's been punched out of his lungs, the same way his cock is being suctioned and squeezed. In an effort to wrangle whatever control is left within himself, Seokmin focuses on your body and how it reacts. Laying over your arched back to press your bare bodies close together in an intimate fashion. 

You can feel his necklace and its cool touch on your burning skin. The recollection of never seeing him without it since gifting it to him reignites a possessive streak in you and has your pussy pulsing around him more fervently. Suddenly you long to have his mark engraved on you permanently, etched into your body and soul just like the inanimate object. 

It's almost a shame when he pauses to tug it free so it doesn't break and let it hang over your shoulder instead. Not that it matters much, for you'd only have a temporary imprint of a dog tag shape on your back. 

As if he can read your muddled mind (he probably can), Seokmin makes up for it in his concentration to delay his dizzy cloud of absolute unbridled lust. He's already left many physical reminders of his touch where you'll definitely be sore later scattered around your body and as a bonus — bites down where your neck meets your shoulder. 

(You have no idea how you'll explain the obvious teeth marks to your friends the next day but you know they'll know. Especially when Seokmin — the little shit that he is — shamelessly shows off the various marks you'll leave all over him later tonight.)

But you don't think about that right now, any and all thoughts consumed of him, him, and him. You're full. So full. Oh, how you ache to run your fingers across his gorgeous body the same way he's able to yours, sneaking a hand underneath to fondle at your breasts and tug at your nipples. You suppose that can wait, already inching toward another crashing orgasm when he's unable to stay still anymore and starts shallow, cautious thrusts.

"Mm, ah, 'min… Seok… min… "

"'m here baby, you're gonna cum for me already, aren't ya?" He pulls his dick out far enough to see the way your essence glistens and coats his length and then smoothly stuffs you full again. "Go on and cream on my cock, make me yours."

Shockingly you shake your head. "No, too soon!"

"S'kay, I know you can give me another one after. If you let go now, it'll feel even better after. You're still so tight, I can barely move."

You really can't believe you're about to climax so soon again. There's not really a choice to hold it off anyways, especially when his hand moves away from your tits and mercilessly rubs your clit. He could've just fucked your throat raw with how hoarse your voice is now with all the sounds he's drawn out of you.

As you recover from the fuzziness of a second orgasm, he'd taken out his cock that's basically gone numb at this point (he's not sure if that's a good thing or not), and appreciates the delectable view of how your hole has been stretched out perfectly in the shape of his cock to accommodate him so sweetly. It all screams I am Seokmin's and he fucking adores it. And you.

There's only one thing left to do. Paint you with the color white.

"You ready for me?" 

You breathlessly huff out a yes but honestly, you're unsure if you will be able to handle another peak without passing out. Seokmin soothes you, whispering that this will be the last one for this round accompanied by two chaste kisses on each of your shoulder blades. So wonderful and perfect, he reminds and suddenly you can do anything he asked of you.

Which is good because he's finally snapping his hips hard and fast with better ability, drilling into your warm, wet pussy he calls his that confirms that ownership itself with filthy noises of agreement and gushes of more arousal. You moan out a mix of yes, yours, and his name — growing so fucked out that when he asks you where you want him to cum, all you do is feebly bounce your asscheeks against his abs when he refuses to move.

"Shit, you gotta tell me now or I'll… fuck, I'll do it inside. I-I know you're on the pill but… "

"Please…"

"You'd look pretty with it all over your back but also spilling out of your pussy… "

"If you don't cum right now anywhere… I'll cry."

"You're already crying." His thumb brushes at the trail of tears that spilled over your eyelids.

"Seokmin…!"

"'m sorry, let me give you what you want."

His hips resume slamming at a rapid pace, hitting deep within that magic bundle of nerves without fail. Stars swim in your vision and the mind-numbing pressure twisting in your lower gut builds up without warning.

It's a silent scream this time and a peak that doesn't seem to end. As your body violently shudders and shakes for what feels like hours at its intensity, Seokmin's release is triggered. Gently thrusting as you spasm around him, milking his cock as it starts to fill you up with a comforting warmth. In a daze, he's forced out by the end of your explosive orgasm and watches with a slack jaw in awe.

He's managed to leave beautiful lines of white across your ass and back as intended. Though the bit he'd left inside of you is mostly expelled by you squirting and coating his thighs with your release, if he looks close enough, there are still globs of cream left around the outer lips of your cunt that has him groaning.

"This is better than what I've dreamt about."

"Of course. Real thing is always better."

"In this case, yes." 

"… Do you still think I'm sweet?"

"… Somehow, yes."

Seokmin laughs as you collapse flat against the bed. You need to clean up but both of you can afford to rest a little first. He lays down next to you on his side, bringing you into his arms and you immediately snuggle your face into his chest before fixing him with a serious gaze.

"I don't get it."

He stiffens in fear. "Wh-what?"

"You fucked your previous partners, right?"

"Um… most… of them… "

"Like this?"

"Uh… " he narrows his eyes. "What… what do you mean?"

"There's no way they would've wanted to let you go if you got a stroke game and stamina this good. Unless you were just too much of a beast in the sheets — which I could understand."

His arms tighten around you. "I'm sorry, did I go too hard on you? I just didn't wanna cum too fast."

"No, you're insane but it was… incredible. You're the unreal one here."

"Didn't expect that when you harassed me about my abs, huh?"

"I did not harass you and of course not, did you?"

"No, but… I'm glad it did. You… don't…  you don't regret it, do you?"

"No, why would I?" He breathes out a tiny sigh of relief which has you raising an eyebrow but you continue on. "I don't get why they didn't try harder to stick around. I mean you're perfect. In all aspects. I one-hundred-percent mean that."

"They weren't you, though. I'm sincere when I say you've always been the one. I was just afraid…" 

"You're a damn good actor, you know that. I had no idea."

Your favorite smile beams at you. "I did major in theater. And we're both kinda idiots."

You slap at his chest playfully and he covers your hand with his. "I like you too, you know that? Like really mean it when I say I do. Even if you just obliterated my fucking vagina out of existence."

"There's no way, I most certainly did not." He kisses your forehead. "'cause you still have to ride me like promised."

"I don't think I'll be able to."

Your eyes close, ignoring Seokmin's gasp of shock and protests about cleaning up. He can tell you're pretty exhausted and acquiesces, shifting you into a position more comfortable for you to be able to doze off for a bit.

But you take that opportunity to spring to life, sucking the nastiest hickey on his neck right above his silver chain. One that will take weeks to heal. He lets out a moan as you do it and when you back away, the atmosphere has heated up again.

"You're giving me a hard time," he points out with an eyebrow wiggle and you giggle. 

Urging him to roll over, you lug your aching limbs up and over so you can straddle his upper body. Adding more and more love marks and bites on his chest, neck, and arms. It's your turn to stake a hushed claim of mine whispered into his ears that you nip at. And he giggles, loving the attention you're showering him with.

His cock is stirring to life under your ministrations as is another pool of arousal swirling in your gut. Despite the hiss of oversensitivity and slight pain you both feel, you ease his length back inside. Nearly crying out because this new angle means he's stuffed in you even more, you don't know if he can fit until you're gasping in relief once you're successful.

He tentatively brushes his fingers against the bulge that appears in your lower tummy, wanton moans erupting from both of you at the gesture. It sends chills down your spine and you shiver.

"Gonna have to help me move, dunno if I have enough strength to make your dreams come true."

"S'kay, we have forever to act them out again and again," he reassures you which erases your pout. "You'll get used to me with enough practice."

"You think so?"

"Well, we can only test that theory to make sure."

You giggle as he pulls you in for a tender kiss by the back of your neck. "You're naughtier than I could've ever imagined."

"But you love it. You love me." His smug look only grows at your agreeing hum and when he flexes his abs. "Now, shall we see if all the work I put into my abs is worth it, babe?"

onlyseokmins: February 2023 ©

Taglist: @joshibambi @junhui-recs @pandorashbox @rubyscoups @woozluv @darlingvernon @charcharfairy @httpswonwoosglasses @yeosayang @buffhoshi @horanghae8star @noraehey @misssugarlips @tinkerbell460 @aceofvernons @dejavernon

[squigglewigglewoo]

whatchu think about dazai n chuuya smut when they're drunk? thanks hehe <33

(✧) warnings: lowercase writing, sexual content, pet names (belladonna/'donna, darling, doll, babydoll, good girl) drinking, drunk sex, rough sex, degradation, praise, teasing, dacryphilia, overstimulation, orgasm control, oral (m receiving), hints of oral (fem receiving) at the end, throat fucking, hints of multiple rounds in chuuyas part, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, belly budge, gagging, biting, hickeys, bruises, afab reader. MDNI, 18+ NSFW bellow the cut!

(✦) summary: sometimes they get a little too drunk and they just cant hold them back from such a pretty thing like you. 859 words~

(✧) a/n: this is self indument lmao, wrote dazais part during my maths class. might write jealousy smut after this

(✦) pairing: chuuya x fem bodied!reader, dazai x fem bodied!reader (separately)

(✧) listening to~ Kiwi by Harry Styles

chuuya was practically on you the second he pulled you out of the bar, peppering kisses along your neck and up to your lips as he locked the car door, shoving you down into the back seat of his experience car, the windows tint combined with the nights dim lighting making it near impossible to see into the car. you could taste the wine on his lips, the man's drunken, dazed murmurs lost on your drunken, needy thoughts. "damnit.. need you s'much, doll" his words are muffled against your neck as his hands moved to unbutton your pants and tug them down your thighs, your underwear coming with. he chuckles as he watches you squirm as the cold air hits your exposed cunt, and one of his gloved hands grab onto your hip in a near bruising grasp, his other hand undoing his belt, letting it fall to the cars flooring with a thump, his pants and boxers slid down his thighs. his hands grab at your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulders as he bullies his cock into your tight pussy. "shit, darlin', your practically sucking me in.. god I need you... you gonna be a good girl? gonna let me fuck you dumb?" his words are slurred and muffled against your neck as he bites down suddenly, your breath hitching as he sucks hickeys onto the exposed skin of your neck, pushing your shirt collar down to leave even more marks. your pressed up against the window as he fucks you, his cock bruising your cervix and your body getting shoved further against car door. his hand slides up you shirt, over your belly, pressing down on the bulge that disappears and appears everytime he thrusts into you, groaning as he feels you squeeze around him tighter. "gonna cum, yea? well, hold it. be a good girl and don't cum till I tell you so." god, he's so mean, you can't help but whines and claw at his back, grabbing the fabric of his dress shirt and vest between your fingers. he only continues to press on the bulge, near entranced as he watched him slide in and out of you, slick squelching sounds filling the car, the pressure he puts on your tummy only making the knot in your stomach coil tighter, tears welling in your eyes as you claw and beg for him to let you cum, that you need to cum. he only growls and thrusts into you quicker, and you have no choice but to come undone on his cock, painting his pants and the leather seats below you in your arousal. he cums soon after, fucking your overstimulated, abused cunt, and you swear you've never felt so full, the way his cum feels in you makes you almost drunk off of the feeling alone, though it might be the wine in your system. "you think you could go another round, babydoll?"

you don't know how you ended up in this situation, dazai inviting you over under the guise of wanting to hand out after work, only to find yourself on the floor of his apartment, mouth stuffed full of his cock as your eyes water and your nails dig into his clothed thighs. "fuck.. yes, just like tha.. that.." his bandaged hand threads into your hair, shoving you further down onto his cock, making you gag as the tip bruises the back of your throat, and he groans as your throat constricts around him. he holds you there, thrusting his hips up as he fucks your throat, head thrown back in pure ecstacy. "god, 'donna, you'd put a call girl to shame with the way you choke on my cock.. you look so pretty like this, like a damn slut with the way your swallowing me so eagerly.." dazai isn't drunk, no where near it, only slightly tipsy. but you, you are, and it's rather easy to convince you into things while your minds fuzzed over with alcohol, your limbs tingly and thoughts unclear. his hand suddenly shoves your head all the way down, and he cums down your throat, leaving you have no choice to swallow the salty, thick ropes that paint your tongue and throat white. his hand moves from the back of your head to your chin, and he pulls you off his dick, your mouth separating from his tip with a wet 'pop!' his thumbs wipes the mixture of his cum and your spit off your bottom lip, and he kisses you, tasting himself on your tongue. your mascara is smudged, a messy cloud of black around your eyes from your tears, and he only smudges it more when his thumb swiped under you eye. "you're so pretty when you cry..." he flips you into your back, earning a high pitched gasp from you, shimmying your pants off and nipping at your inner thighs, holding eye contact with you as he licks a fat stripe over your clothed cunt, bitting softly at your clit through your underwear, a smirk on his lips and a glimmer of something in his eyes. "why don't I return the favor, yeah?"

masterlist!

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[shycoffeeland]

'MY GIRL' - SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X F!141!READER (001)

Content tags: Reader is rescued, kidnap, mentioned torture, PTSD, petname of choice is "Love."

All thoughts had left your head as you'd been wrestled to the ground. The butt of the rifle hit you in the temple, and the last thing you felt as your vision went blurry was blood trickling down your forehead, your earpiece going haywire as the team heard it unfold.

When you woke up fully, you were tied to a chair. It was broken in places and the splinters were digging into your thighs. Your braids were coming loose and your hair was sticking to your forehead with sweat. The chair was an old wooden dining chair with armrests, and you were strapped in by the waist, wrists and ankles with multiple rounds of a thin wire that dug into you in all the wrong places. Finally getting a decent look around the room you'd been confined to, it was obvious it was a torture room. No windows, one single light. The walls were dirty, with layers upon layers of grime and dried bloodstains. There were tools on the walls, and it'd not taken long for you to corroborate each one with a mark on your body. The bruised and cuts that lined your arms started to sting as you fully returned to consciousness, and your lower legs began to burn. You couldn't bend down enough to fully see them, but you knew it had to be bad. The pain radiated up your legs, and sank deep into your flesh, a burning ache that only worsened the more you breathed. Every second felt like a minute. Every minute felt like an hour. The nausea crept up your throat only aggravated by the stench of blood and burnt flesh. Did they burn you? You couldn't tell. Everything felt the same anyway. You were about to die.

The door opened, and the single lightbulb above you flickered on.

One of your captors stood before you, your own gun in his hands. You looked over his gear, and saw that he'd also stolen your combat knives and your earpiece. He laughed at you, and squat down to your eye level, taking a hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"I'm impressed. A little girl playing soldiers should've broken by now." His voice was disgusting, like nails on a chalkboard.

You wanted so badly to headbut him and spit in his face, but you had to play this one smart, and no matter how much you wanted to kill him, he had the gun and you didn't. You kept quiet, and he moved his hand, the heel of it firmly underneath your chin and his fingernails digging into your bottom lip. You could smell the dirt and blood on him, and his breath stank something fierce.

'A little girl playing soldiers', knowing full well you probably outranked him. It was unusual to have such a highly decorated female soldier in any kind of specops, and it would always make you a target. Men like him would never be frightened by a woman. Its why they have to resort to taking you, tying you up and drugging you out of your mind while they torture you. You'd never break.

"L/N...," A second, thickly accented voice joined the haze, and you looked over to see another man tear the patch off your tac vest, reading your embroidered surname. Countless years in the service; being known only as your last name, and in recent years the ranks you'd acheived- but it sounded so wrong. Your vision began to clear slightly as you focused on him. "Where are your task force?"

"How the fuck am I meant to know? Do you honestly expect me to know that?" You looked up at him, trying your hardest to focus and not slur your words. You sounded drunk. "I haven't seen or spoken to the team since you've had me here, or even moved from this chair."

He didn't like that.

Somehow it hurt more to get a backhand across the face than the rest of your injuries, it left your head pounding.

"Don't be stupid. Do you think we don't know there's a plan in place? Where are they now?" He almost hissed, his notably rancid halitosis making you almost yak right in his face.

Your eyes fell shut, as the world around you began to swim.

"Plan probably went sideways because you took one of ours." That voice was unmistakable. You could practically see the flag on his cap. Gaz had come to get you.

Your captor stopped every movement as the barrel of a gun was held to the back of his head. The sudden movement caused you to creak your eyes open a little.

Ghost and Gaz had found you, leaving a trail of bodies in their wake as they got to where you were kept. Ghost's eyes shifted once he fully looked at you, and took in the sight of what they had done. He said nothing, his eyes boring holes in the wall behind you as the focus left them. He was barely there.

The man who had been messing with your vest was now slumped in a heap, kicked under the table. The only threat left in the room was cornered by two of the best.

"Ghost, mate," Gaz tried to encourage Simon to let go of the gun. "We need him alive. L/N, you okay? You awake?"

You mumbled, struggling against your restraints.

Gaz spoke into his radio. "Captain? Yeah we found her. She's not in a good way, we need medical." A pause. "Alright sir." Another pause. "Yes sir." A third pause that was longer than the rest. You couldn't make out what was being said. "Understood."

Ghost and Gaz swapped places, Gaz giving him a nod of understanding as they both moved to their respective tasks. Freeing you, and securing the now unconscious militia member.

Through the mask, you could usually make out each detail of his face. Now, you could barely hold onto the sight of his eyes. He said nothing as he worked to free you, his head bowed as he carefully avoided your wounds as he worked the wire back out and away from your wrists and from your ankles. You blinked, and he had gone behind you, using his bolt cutters to get through the thick accumulation of wire that bound you by the waist to the chair.

"Stay with it." You heard him say very quietly. "It's nothing." You couldn't figure out if he was speaking to you, or trying to get through it himself.

When you opened your eyes again, you were being carried. Your face was rubbing against the velcro on the back of his tac vest, the main sensation you focused on as you tried to make sense of the echoing conversation that was filling the empty building. The familiar sound of his breathing managed to calm you down a little, as you unconsciously had grown to associate it with rest and safety. His hold on you was firm, yet gentle, he didnt want to hurt you yet desperatly didnt want to risk dropping you, he knew you hated rescue carries. You were facing the floor, watching the dust and sand moving with each footstep of the two soldiers.

Suddenly, the doors opened, and a harsh light of the morning bled in.

"Fucking hell." You heard the Captain's voice as he caught sight of the three of you. It was distant, but still carried that familiar tone that made you almost try to stand at attention.

"You take her." Gaz kept both hands firmly on his rifle, nodding towards the vehicles that had gathered infront of the building. "I'll make sure that twat doesn't wake up."

Ghost felt you start struggling, and tried speaking to you, adjusting you so you were more upright over his shoulders than dangling off one, you'd fallen off the first time. "I can't put you down yet, just stay still alright? You'll be alright Love." His voice was quiet, but as he adjusted you he moved your head closer to him, a small but comforting gesture.

The medical team were ready to receive you. It took a good while to convince the lieutenant to let go of you. He watched as Price sent in another team to go meet Sergeant Garrick and retrieve the man from the enemy militia. The medics set you down and began working on you immediately.

"Go back to base." Price said, knowing the tone in his voice meant 'go with her, Simon.' Adjusting and reloading his guns, taking a drag from his cigar. "I need someone reliable to hold down the fort. We won't be far behind." He gave him a pat on the back before going to join the others.

The ride back to base was way too long with the supplies that were transportable. He sat in the front of the truck, knowing that the space to work in the back was limited. He didn't want to get in the way. He also couldn't bear looking at you in such a state. He'd barely managed to look at himself in the mirror after what he'd gone through in Mexico. He swore he'd never let anyone he loved go through something so awful, and the last thing he wanted was to be so helpless.

The second they got back, he all but jumped out of the truck, barking orders at anyone who'd listen. The rest of the medical team back at base had everything prepped and ready to treat you as per the reports they received en route. This time, Simon didn't even think. He went in with you, and stayed in the room while the treated you through your fleeting glimpses of consciousness, you could see that skull face, you didn't need to focus on his face, even as a blur, the skull was still there. Your Simon was with you. Everything would be okay.

A few days , a few sedatives and some heavy antibiotics later, you woke up to the faint sound of birds and humming at your bedside.

part two coming asap!

[mountainficss]

also ahhh i hope this isn’t too soon after the last req i sent it but could i please req hard dom seungkwan with creampie/cum stuffing and multiple rounds? and it gets really messy?

: 🍊 hehe

!! mentions of: hard dom!seungkwan, cream pie, multiple orgasms, edging, degradation, finger sucking, rough sex

kwannie would fuck you so gooddd omg :(

the first round he’d take it slow, would kind of ease you into it and edge you a bit just because he likes to see you squirm and writhe. your whimpers would do nothing but spur him on, fucking you at a painfully slow pace just to make it harder for you. the wet sound of seungkwan sliding into your core would make you blush, your arousal coating his length completely and allowing him to slide in with no resistance. he’d whisper the nastiest things to you, causing you to clench around him.

“you’re so messy. aren’t you embarrassed?”

“aww, want me to be rough with you? am i going too slow?”

“take it like a good slut. i’ll fuck you right if you cum for me.”

you’d end up cumming all over his cock with sweet moans, the slow thrusts causing your orgasm to bubble up slowly and steadily. he’d coo lovingly, cupping your face with one hand and rubbing your cheek with his thumb. he’d pull his length almost completely out, and would unexpectedly push back in hard. you’d yelp in surprise as his hips snap into yours, the harsh thrust catching you by complete surprise. “did you think i was done?” he’d scoff, his thrusts picking up in speed as he licks his thumb and glides it along your clit. “you can take another. i’ll fucking make you.” you’d moan uncontrollably from the overstimulation, the feeling of him pounding into you already bringing you close to your climax. he’d lean down and litter bites and marks all over your shoulders, adding to the overwhelming pleasure. you loved it when he was rough with you, the feeling of him fucking you dumb would never fail to make you cum numerous times around him. your second orgasm wouldn’t build up slowly this time, oh no. this one would be intense, he’d practically force your climax from you with how hard he was fucking you. your body would have no choice but to take everything he was giving you, your hole tightening around him and sucking him in greedily. the sounds that would escape you would be loud and desperate as you cum around him for the second time ;( he couldn’t help but finish inside you, filling your wet heat with his seed. he’d still, dragging his length out slowly and fucking back into you once, just to push his cum into your hole. “so dirty,” he’d mock, smearing your arousal with his fingers and shoving them into your mouth. you’d suck them clean, drooling all over his fingers absentmindedly. “aww, i really fucked you stupid huh?” he’d tease meanly, shoving them in deeper and causing you to gag on them. “drooling all over my fingers. cute.” you’d flash him a dazed smile, eyes full of lust despite having cum multiple times. he’d reach a hand down once again, rubbing two fingers across your bud and feeling you jolt harshly at the touch. he’d pull his fingers out of your mouth, grabbing his cock and twisting his fist around it using your spit as lubricant. you’d squirm underneath him, but he’d just smirk and continue his movements. “you’re cumming again,” he’d command, stuffing two of his fingers inside of your twitching hole. “wanna see you make another mess for me.” <333

taglist: @imprettyweird (pls lmk what you’re okay with being tagged in bby, i’d feel so bad if i spammed you every time i posted 😳)

[threewaywithdelusion]

Alec Lightwood Not Giving a Single Fuck About the Law

(Spoilers! So many spoilers! For everything except Secrets of Blackthorn Hall, because I haven't read it yet)

I'm not too clear on what the Accords say about Shadowhunters policing Downworlders/what Downworlders are not allowed to do. But I'm pretty sure all of these must be illegal (or at least frowned upon):

Not reporting that Magnus started a joke cult that turned in a real cult that was killing people and worshiping a Greater Demon

Letting the person actually running said evil cult go free after they had captured her because he knew the Clave would execute her and even though Shinyun was literally responsible for several murders, he thought she deserved a second chance (and Magnus related to her, and Alec wanted to spare Magnus pain)

Never reporting Elliott of the New York Vampire Clan for literally everything he has done, including biting several Downworlders at a party, having multiple incidents with faerie fruit, "accidentally" biting 17 mundanes while under the influence (including at least one time where Lily had to stop him from killing the mundane in question), and cheating on two Selkies who then caused property damage in a fight with each other

relatedly, not reporting Mordecai, the faerie fruit dealer

(I just love this entire exchange: "As the current head of the New York Institute," Maryse said, with an attempt at firmness, "if there is illegal Downworlder activity happening, it should be reported to me." "I do not talk to Nephilim about Downworlder business," Lily said severely. The Lightwood parents stared at her, and then swung their heads in sync to stare at their son. Lily waved a dismissed hand in their direction. "Except for Alec, he's a special case.")

Watching Juliette, Werewolf Queen of the Buenos Aires Shadow Market, kill a Shadowhunter and just lightly suggest she try to take the Shadowhunters alive (and then not punish her in any way for killing that one guy)

Not reporting that Ragnor Fell had found a realm for the Greater Demon Sammael and also worked for him for a period of time (I don't think the Clave would care that Ragnor didn't had a choice because of the sventhorn)

Suggested in the final battle in Queen of Air and Darkness that an effective way to render opposing Shadowhunters unconscious would be to have vampires bite them and drink enough of their blood that they passed out

Protecting Marcy, the werewolf who transformed at a club during a full moon, and never reporting her for almost revealing the shadow world to Mundanes and injuring several of them

Breaking the Cold Peace several times by visiting several Shadow Markets, interacting with faeries, and pretending not to know about multiple illegal Shadowhunter-faerie relationships (Tian/Jinfeng and Mark/Kieran/Cristina)

Not illegal but probably seen as outrageous by other Shadowhunters:

marrying Magnus in Shadowhunter gold

traipsing into a hell dimension to save Downworlders

letting a vampire (Simon) drink his blood

offering his blood to a different vampire (Lily)

raising a Downworlder child as his own (and also training that child like a Shadowhunter)

raising a Shadowhunter child that has a Downworlder parent

Basically, Alec Lightwood is a badass and the fact that he went from the type of guy who said "sed lex, dura lex" to the man who did all of this is the reason he is one of my favorite characters ever

[lucawrites11]

the lionesses biggest problems against france and my solutions

keira walsh unable to lose her marker

the lack of a left footed centreback

poor defending of corners especially from hampton

terrible substitutions

a lack of speed and players in the box

a lack of creativity in line-ups making us completely predictable

okay, let's look at these problems in depth:

sarina loves a 4-3-3 or 4-2-3-1 looking something like this:

however this line-up has multiple problems. the first is that it's predictable, it is a slight modification of the same line-up with the same people that has been used since the euros except it no longer has the same level of success because the opposition has figured out it's weaknesses.

the first major risk is the reliance of Keira Walsh. Germany had figured this out by the Euros Final. as one of the best holding midfielder in the world, she's absolutely crucial in terms of the passes she provides forward and her ball recovery but if you just put one player on her all game (in France's case it was Kenza Dali) you can mark her out and remove England's ball recovery ability and ensure that they struggle to get the ball forward.

Another weakness is that if Sarina choses to start Greenwood, as she did yesterday, there is no defender with a good left foot and that leaves the defence vulnerable and also limits the connection that Hemp can have with her full-back down the left. Furthermore, without Lauren James, Ella Toone doesn't provide the same speed running in behind in the 10 role and that switch with Russo to allow Russo to overload the midfield and start goal scoring play. It was something that she did multiple times against France but Toone didn't make her way into the box like James and there is no finishing. English is struggling without that out and out striker, and Lauren James compensated for that gap. Without James, speed in the frontline is also lost, leaving Hemp the fastest forward player and no one chasing after her to get into the box with her.

Also loosing Earps meant that Hampton was shaky and thrown off coming on and she has never been as strong at set piece defending. Khiara may be a better option to defend set pieces where France are deadly but that's too much pressure for a debut game almost. I would like to see Khiara get her first England cap in the next Ireland match to allow be more of an option for Sarina as competition for Earps and Hampton. Sarina also failed in terms of not making a subsitution until the seventieth minute and bringing on experience where England clearly needed more speed and fresh legs. Leaving Jess Naz, Grace Clinton and Jess Park's speed on the bench was criminal.

what's the solution?

in my opinion, sarina has to use an entirely new line-up that does a few things:

either takes Walsh off the pitch or uses a midifeld overload that allows her more freedom

brings more speed into the attacking line

places a winger or ten behind Russo with the ability to get into the box

makes space for a left-footed centreback

there are a few options:

3-4-3

this is my least favourite option. it solves the keira walsh problem by taking her off the pitch but that leaves stanway as the sole holding midfielder. furthermore, it gives space for a left footed centreback in alex greenwood but it means bronze is pushed into the midfield which she can play effectively and would allow for speed in the attack but can leave a defensive hole on the wings. also without a clear left midfielder (carter could maybe play where i've place clinton and if she does, clinton should replace kirby). however clinton has speed to get into the box and as does kirby. this is also tiring for the midfield however england does have the midfield depth to bring on in park.

4-4-2 (diamond)

4-4-2 is on the left and the diamond option is on the right

both are strong choices for this england side and i think that hemp can also play up front next to russo with mead on the right with bronze and clinton or stanway on the left. two centre-forwards in russo and mead/hemp allows the centrebacks to be occupied and for a high press which can interfere with the french attempt to play out from the back that they love. clinton allows has the pace to run in behind when russo or mead manage to steal the ball allowing for a quick counter attack. four in the midfield can also overload the three that the french place in the there and challenge their ability to mark keira walsh out of the game. furthermore, a strong press in russo and hemp/mead allows the midfield be bypassed because the four doesn't always provide a full overload. two upfront can also compensate for when russo drops into the midfield and to hold up the ball, this also allows for the full overload with five in the midfield to pull markers off keira. with a strong left back in greenwood who can play centreback, williamson can also drop into the midfield for an overload. a four at the back with the left-footed defender allows for a deep block if the ball is lost, something that is likely to happen if france play in the midfield again.

3-5-2

this is my favourite line-up

the five in the midfield allows for a complete overload that can release walsh and give her the freedom to pass forward. furthermore, there is the left-footed centreback in greenwood. bronze and hemp playing as wing-backs also allows for a deep block when they drop back and they are both fast at getting both back and forward on the defense and attack which can be the main weakness of this line-up however bronze and hemp can play well as wing-backs. furthermore, bronze, hemp and clinton can overload the final third to support the high press of russo and mead that ensures players in the box and speed on a break to that can work quickly to throw off a french defense and a build up of play from the back

i think this will solve a lot of england's problems going forward and back and release keira walsh in the midfield as well as throwing france off with a new line-up that they wouldn't be expecting

i would also like to see jess park and aggie beever-jones up front to provide support as a striker for alessia russo or speed in behind replacing grace clinton

[phoenix-eclipses]

Casting Love 0.6 -- Put it in the Universe

YN got there early. The moment they walked into the store, one of the employees immediately recognized them and waved. They waved back and sat at one of the tables, not wanting to order anything yet while waiting for Kenma.

Right at 2:30 Kenma walked into the small cafe. YN walked over.

"Hi! How are you today?"

"Oh, hi. I'm okay. Were you waiting?"

"Not for that long, don't worry. I just didn't have much to do once class ended so I changed and headed over. I got here like five minutes ago." they waved his concern off before turning to the menu. "What do you want? I'd personally recommend a slice of one of their pies, they're all really good."

"Hm." He walked over to the display case and looked at the options. "I'll take a slice of the apple pie."

"Nice choice! I haven't tried it myself but one of my friends really like it. Hmm... I think I'll have the strawberry rhubarb." YN glanced to the employee who happened to be listening. "And I'll take your recommended drink."

After they got their food and drinks, the two walked over to one of the empty tables to discuss a few things. YN pulled out their laptop and shifted it so Kenma could see the screen.

"I made a list of a few things I felt like were important to discuss with each other."

Schedules (update each other if major updates are made)

Extended absences (missing one or two days in a row is okay, at least for me, but preferably alert each other if we're going to be gone, especially if it's for multiple classes)

Weekly or biweekly meetings (don't know how much time we'll have in class to properly talk so it'd be important to talk outside of class)

"Of course, if you have anything you're concerned about you can add it in the list. I just thought these were important to settle first."

Kenma nodded his head, opening his own laptop. "Can you share this with me? It'd be helpful for us to both have it to our disposal in case we need to reference it or if any changes need to be made."

"Yep! What's your email?"

0.5 -- Masterlist -- 0.7

Notes

YN did in fact leave their class early (the prof takes attendance in the beginning so they got full attendance marks since he didnt even notice)

They were running back to their shared appartment with Iwa as they called Tsuki (they almost tripped while trying to explain everything to him)

Realistically, it didn't take them that long to decide on an outfit (like 10 minutes max) but then YN spent the rest of the time worrying about how to talk to Kenma so they made the bullet list to try and at least have a baseline to start from

YN was purposefully excluding Oikawa because it's 1/2 am for him

I love Kenma but I'm also convinced unless he is fully interested in the conversation/it's with one person he's comfortable with he can be dry asf

The range of time of when I drop these posts keeps getting more chaotic, it really just represents the ruin my sleep schedule is in

One of the funniest but also hardest things about this is because my normal writing tends to be so much more formal than this but I want the writing portions to fit the vibe but also just be goofy so don't expect anything crazy from them :b

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[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

hi! i have a question i’m directing at you bc i’ve seen the idea going around tumblr but most recently on your post — if a student is caught using ai to cheat do you think that’s worth expulsion? should that be the best case scenario punishment? while i understand the importance of making it known to students the severity of using chatgp, at the same time i feel like that’s a very harsh punishment for being caught cheating. but then also at the same time! i’m not a teacher and i don’t know if it’s possible to teach a student to value their education and the opportunity they have for high learning if they don’t already personally believe that the opportunity is a gift. idk! this isn’t really a structured question but i guess i’m curious about how you (or in general, how professors) feel about expulsion for chatgp (i know you’re just one person and don’t speak on behalf of all educators lol but it’s just something i’ve been curious about)

Expulsion as in, ejected wholesale from the entire university, Do Not Darken Our Door Again? No, I don't.

I think what outsiders tend to miss is that students who do this, 99% of the time, are desperate. Something has gone terribly wrong, they're desperate to meet those deadlines and get that work done, and in my experience it's almost always wrapped up in neurodivergence (usually undiagnosed) and frequently a home situation that's made their lives a shit show and pushed academia to a back burner.

But, it's a more serious issue than high school cheating on a multiple choice quiz. Degrees are crafted to have quality assurance built in, and with good reason. The whole point of a degree is that it's proof of higher learning, and specialist knowledge - you get a higher salary (in theory lol) because your employer is paying for the very expensive training you've undergone. This is particularly important in something like medicine or construction, because if you haven't actually completed all parts of that degree you could kill someone; but even in my own field, if you fundamentally don't understand the physical processes of a sand dune as well as its ecology, and someone hires you to manage that sand dune... well, it's going to be an over-stabilised mess in about five years' time and you've killed the rare sand lizards and mining bees that were living there. And if your degree is a course in an institution who is famous for producing top quality environmental workers who know this stuff... well, you've just made your uni course look very, very bad in industry.

So unis are protective of their quality assurance, and that means they do not like cheaters. And I do agree with that, that's fair enough.

For me, though, I think the answer is not full expulsion. I would run it like this:

Confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt that the student has indeed cheated. This must be confirmed.

IF NOT CONFIRMED: Mark the work strictly. Pair this with a viva - the student must be able to answer questions about the work from two lecturers with subject expertise, plus someone from the Academic Office (although that latter person can just observe only). This will determine how deep their knowledge is vs what they submitted, and should be factored into the overall mark.

IF CONFIRMED: Module fail, all marks for those credits set to zero, and the information included on transcripts (not why they failed, just that they attempted the module and got zero.) HOWEVER, the student is allowed one resit attempt; this might mean having to redo the year as a part-time student just to get that module, depending on how it's taught and how important it is.

All of the above with the understanding that their work is going to now be checked very closely going forward for repeat issues. In confirmed cases, a viva is now a required part of future work.

To be fair, mind, proving cheating is genuinely very hard, so depending on how strict the uni is, that's roughly the system that gets used anyway. Your work is very strictly marked, you get viva'd, and you usually fail on quality anyway (especially if your flavour of cheating was ChatGPT, because what it produces is shit.) After you've failed, gone through a resit period, and been capped at a pass mark for the fail, you realise pretty quickly that it would have been less stress and effort for a higher mark to just do the work yourself. And that's a learning curve everyone should be allowed, I think.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Shut Up and Drive (Chapter 5)

Roy Kent x F1 Driver!Reader

3.6k words

Warnings: Language, phone sex, masturbation (M and F), lots of pining, Jamie & Keeley being little shits, smutty smut, picture of MC

@agentstarkid !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Series Masterlist

“You get into a fight?”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

Jamie took a sip of his pint. “Cut yourself shaving?”

“Shut up.”

The striker’s grin grew. “Drop your curling iron?”

“Shut up.”

Despite the fact that all he really wanted to do was go home and have an extra-long shower after watching a few choice F1 interviews, Roy allowed himself to be dragged out after the match for dinner at Ola’s. If he’d known he was going to spend the whole time being harassed by Jamie fucking Tartt, he would have told everyone to fuck off when they invited him.

He wanted to scream when Keeley plopped down on his other side.

“Did you see our special guest at the match today?” she practically sang, waggling her eyebrows. “Couldn’t keep her eyes off the dugout.”

“Was kind of busy coaching a fucking football game,” Roy grumbled, slouching, wishing he was like Jamie, who carried around concealer in his stupid little fanny packs. Then he could’ve covered up the gorgeous little mark you’d left on his jaw.

Keeley leaned close. “Well, she looked much less put together than usual,” she continued, as if Roy wasn’t shooting daggers at her. “She had her cute little Ferrari hat, but you could tell her hair was a mess. And her skin was pretty red and blotchy. And she kept squirm-”

“What the fuck are you implying?” he growled, as if he wasn’t the reason for that messy hair and red skin and- fuck- squirming.

“So, where’d you do it?” Jamie leaned forward. “Showers? Weight room? Boot room? Supply closet? Fuck, it was the changing room after all left, wasn’t it?”

Roy stood, chugging the last of his beer. “Right. Fuck both of you, I’m heading home, where no one makes stupid fucking accusations to make their own stupid lives more interesting.” He gave a little salute. “Cheers, pricks.”

He ignored their protests and pleas to stay as he stalked out of the restaurant, nodding to his players as they called out their goodbyes. As he got in his car, he glanced at his phone, gulping when he saw he had a message waiting for him.

You ruined my panties, Kent. Thanks xx

~

For a couple of days, Roy found himself glued to his phone. It wasn’t like the two of you were texting nonstop like fucking teenagers or some shit. Just sporadic messages, murmurings of what you were each up to, some selfies you sent him for the sole purpose of teasing him, and one swear-infested rant about how Jamie almost hit him with the ball during training.

It was only a few messages exchanged, but Roy was determined not to miss a single one.

On Wednesday night, you sent Roy a picture of you in a stunning red dress, complaining about some event you had to go to. It took a lot of restraint on both sides to keep from admitting how badly you both wished he was your date.

Roy stared at his phone, keenly aware of the quickly growing tightness in his pants. Fuck, how was he supposed to respond?

His clouded brain settled for a simple you look beautiful have fun before setting his phone on the coffee table, deciding he needed a drink before he let his horniness take over.

He settled himself on the couch with his beer and a book, but he kept wondering how your night was going. It was probably full of cameras and reporters and people exclaiming about how gorgeous you were, and there were probably multiple guys vying for your attention, guys not as stupid and annoying as his idiot Greyhounds. It was his nightmare scenario, an evening at a public event with plenty of annoying people, and yet part of him wished he was there with you.

Old man that he was, Roy fell asleep, woken up late into the night by his own snores. Wiping the drool from his face and doing his best to avoid dwelling on the steamy dream he’d been having, he turned out the lights and dragged himself to his room, phone in hand.

After stripping down to his boxers, he crawled into bed and let his fingers tap away on his screen until he had pulled up your Instagram. He found a particular video he’d watched several times, one featuring a beach and you wearing a lovely little bikini. His free hand was just dipping under his boxers when the pinging of his mobile startled him, causing him to drop his phone onto his face.

“Fuck,” he hissed, readjusting himself. Fucking Jamie must be drunk texting him again-

Nope. Definitely not Jamie.

Roy gawked at the screen for a moment, taking in the view. Fuck. Now he really wished he’d been with you this evening. Without quite knowing what he was doing, he hit the call button by your name and held the phone to his face, trying to keep his breathing steady as it rang once, twice-

“What took you so long?” Your purring voice had an edge of teasing that sent his heart into overdrive.

“You have a nice time at your thing?” He sat up, trying to keep his voice even; a particular challenge considering the image you’d now planted in his mind.

He could hear your bored little hum. “Not bad. You know how these things are.”

“Yeah,” was all he could manage.

Smiling at the nervous tone in Roy Kent’s voice, you slid off the chair you were perched on and crossed over to your bed, leaving your now forgotten glass of wine on your nightstand before laying down on your belly. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

Roy stared at the tent that was forming in his bed. “’course not,” he assured you. “I was up.” Shit.

You stifled a giggle at what you hoped was a double entendre. “What were you up to, then?”

Definitely not having a wank to you. “Nothing much,” he managed. “Just laying down.”

“In bed?”

Roy felt relieved to know your minds were both heading in the same direction. “In bed,” he confirmed, feeling his mouth tug upwards. “Your chair comfy?”

You chuckled. “Moved over to the bed myself, actually.” You paused, gazing at the ceiling. “How’s your jaw?”

He let his free hand trace over the beautiful little mark, which he’d admired in the mirror earlier in the evening. “It looks like I lost a fight with a fucking vacuum cleaner, thank you very much,” he joked.

“Anyone notice?”

“Only Keeley. And Jamie. And the whole team.” He rolled his eyes at the memory of all those eyes on his face, all those raised eyebrows and suspicious grins. “Lots of fun questions after the match.”

You rolled over onto your back. “Sorry about that,” you murmured, your tone anything but sorry.

His smile turned soft. “Kind of worth it,” he admitted. He cleared his throat. “Heard you looked a right mess, though,” he teased. “And something about you spending half the match watching the dugout.”

“Yeah, A.F.C. Richmond has this very fit manager.” You absently twirled a strand of hair around your finger. “Gets me all excited.”

Roy licked his lips. “You excited right now?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Your free hand skimmed the exposed skin of your tummy; you wished it was Roy’s hand. “Maybe. What about you, Roy Kent? Does something have you excited?”

There was a half moment of hesitation at his end. “D’you want the honest fucking truth?”

“Sure.” His pause had you curious about he wanted to tell you.

“I…” He cleared his throat. “I was actually already… getting excited when you texted me.” He couldn’t believe he was admitting this. “Looking at, er, pictures of you.”

Well fuck. You were already feeling frisky- hence the text you’d sent him to start all of this- but fuck, you felt your panties dampen with your arousal. There was no doubt Roy could hear your breath hitch at his confession.

“Which pictures?” you asked breathily, squirming at the image you conjured of Roy, in bed, touching himself and looking at you.

An embarrassed grin crossed his face when he realized his admission had turned you on. “Some fucking Instagram post of you on the beach. You’re in a swimsuit… this fucking bikini and… yeah.” He ran his free hand over his face.

Roy Kent didn’t have phone sex. Sure, he’d received more than a few dirty pictures over the years. And he and Keeley had liked to text each other what they wanted to do once they got home. But lying in bed, all alone, spurred on by his own imagination and the sound of your voice?

He’d try anything once. For you, at least.

Your breathy giggle had him feeling slightly less embarrassed. “Yeah, I know that post,” you murmured. “You often go stalking through my Instagram?”

“Sometimes,” Roy admitted softly, biting his lip. “Like you said, good way to relax before a match.”

“It’s not before a match, Roy,” you pointed out, your face on fire at the thought of Roy getting off to photos and videos of you.

Roy’s low chuckle had your entire body pulsating. “You got me there,” he hummed. “Maybe I was… just thinking of you.”

The smile you wore felt far too giddy; you needed to get this conversation back on track. “And tell me,” you asked in your most sultry voice, “what did those bikini photos make you think of?”

He got the hint. “Made me think of when you visited us in Leeds,” he murmured, his free hand dipping below the sheets again. “You, on your knees. Just the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen in my fucking life.”

Your own hand traced a trail down to your already wet panties. “That was fun,” you sighed. “You were pretty fucking delicious.”

“Was I?” Roy palmed himself through his boxers; fuck he was hard.

“Uh huh,” was all you managed as you let a single finger trace your pussy lips through the damp material. “Just wish I could taste you now.” You held in a moan as you began to stroke yourself. “What do you wish I was doing right now?”

Roy’s chuckle was dark, sexy as all hell. “Well, I would love it if you could help me with this fucking boner you gave me.” He wrapped his hand around his clothed cock.

You grinned, mouth practically watering at the thought of Roy Kent’s hard dick. “What makes you think I’m not going to help you?” you purred. “Of course, you’re going to help me with my own little situation.”

His cock twitched in his hands. “And what situation would that be?”

Even though he couldn’t see it, you gave a little pout. “Well, I’m laying all alone in bed, and my panties are getting all wet. Any suggestions?”

“Fuck,” he huffed, stroking himself. “You should- shit- I dunno, touch yourself?”

Roy’s face was bright red. Not for the first time with you, he felt so fucking old. He didn’t know how to do this, or what he was supposed to say. His embarrassment was almost enough to kill his boner and make him hang up.

The soft groan that came through his phone brought him back. “Under or over my panties?” you whispered. You weren’t stupid; Roy Kent was not the kind of guy who had these kinds of late-night conversations. But the adorable earnestness and desire in his voice had you wanting to guide him through it. Mostly, though, your horniness had you refusing to hang up on that stunning man.

He had to admit he was grateful for the help. “Under,” he husked. “Go under.”

Eager to please, you did as you were told, dipping your hand under the soft material. You let out a sigh as your fingers grazed your wetness. “What about you? Are you touching yourself for me?”

Those last two words had him shuddering. “Over my boxers,” he admitted. “Should I, er, change that?”

“Yes, please.” You had to stop yourself from completely begging as you slid one finger through your slick. “Fuck, I wish it were me.”

“Me too,” Roy groaned as he slid his hand into his boxers and wrapped his hand around his hardness. “Fucking wish you were here, that gorgeous mouth of yours.”

You closed your eyes and brought your finger to your pulsing clit and began rubbing slow circles. “Fuck, Roy,” you breathed. “How hard are you right now?”

Roy sighed as he began stroking himself. “Really fucking hard. Just for you.” He licked his lips, thinking of you, laying in bed, touching yourself, writhing around, thinking of him. The image was better than any bikini photo. “Wish you were here to do something about it.”

“Oh, I’d do a lot about it if I was there.” You increased the pressure on your clit, hissing at the pleasure. “I’d be on my knees for you, Roy Kent. And I’d swallow everything you had to give me.”

“Actually,” Roy chuckled, his mind conjuring up some dirty pictures. “Would love to see those tits of yours all covered. Bet you’d look fucking great.”

Your soft moan told him you liked the sound of that. “Next time,” you breathed, moving away from your clit and to your needy cunt. “You can cover me all you want next time.”

His cock twitched at those two magical words: next time. “Where’re your fingers?” he asked, letting his thumb sweep over the precum that was leaking out of him. “Fuck, please tell me they’re inside that pretty pussy.”

Fuck. It was as if he knew. Of course Roy Kent knew. You answered him with a lewd moan as you slid a finger inside yourself. “Yeah,” you cooed. “It’s really fucking wet for you, Roy.”

“Fucking love when you say my name,” he rasped, increasing his pace. “Fuck, can you say it again?”

You were more than happy to oblige. “Roy,” you whined, adding a second finger to your wetness. “Fuck, Roy.” You let out a whimper as you pumped in and out. “I wish you were fucking me, Roy. Fucking me the way you did in the boot room that day, all fucking desperate and dirty.”

Roy’s eyebrows flew up. “You like it dirty then?” he teased, relishing the memory of you in the boot room, head thrown back as you tried to keep quiet, looking like a fucking goddess. “That’s really fucking good to know.”

“Why?” you shot back, grinning as you pictured his sexy smirk. “You going to give it to me dirty?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Roy was starting to like this phone sex thing. He could get used to it. “Babe, I want you on this bed on all fours. Then I’ll show you desperate and dirty.”

You weren’t sure what had your pussy clenching around your fingers- the confidence in Roy’s voice, the image of you on your hands and knees for him, or the sweet pet name he growled out, not to mention the idea of being fucked in Roy Kent’s bed. Either way, you let out a little whimper as you began to squirm on your mattress.

That whimper had Roy moaning. “Fuck you sound beautiful,” he cooed. “You always sound so beautiful. Bet you’d sound beautiful in my shower.”

“You want me in your shower?” You couldn’t help smiling at the image- you, pressed up against a steamy glass door, Roy having to hold you up because you can’t feel your legs anymore, that perfect cock stretching and filling you.

The idea was almost enough to make you ignore the fact that Roy Kent had now mentioned having you over twice over the course of this phone call.

“I want you every-fucking-where.”

Your hips rocked against your hand as you listened to Roy’s ragged breathing, his soft moans. Your skin grew warm as you wondered if he could hear the wet sounds filling your quiet bedroom, sounds he usually helped you make in hotel rooms and, apparently, locked boot rooms. You wondered how it would sound if he was making those noises with you here, now, in your bedroom.

Fuck that sounded good.

“’m getting close,” Roy growled, his voice strained. “Wanna hear you come, gorgeous.”

Your pussy clenched at that word. Gorgeous. Hearing Roy call you that sent a shiver through your whole body; it seemed to be his favorite word to call you.

“Fucking want you,” you managed to whine as you pumped in and out of your soaked cunt, wishing that your fingers were Roy’s cock. “Fucking need you inside me, Roy.” Your release grew closer and closer as your back arched. “That fucking cock stretching me out.”

“Bet those fingers of yours aren’t as good as my cock,” Roy groaned, his grip tightening as he felt his own orgasm approach. “Love burying it inside you, fucking you the way you deserve. Like a fucking queen. My fucking Empress.”

Electricity flowed through your veins as you let out a silent moan.

Somehow, he knew.

“Let me hear you, gorgeous,” he begged, eyes screwed shut. “Let me hear those pretty fucking sounds.”

“Fuck, Roy,” you moaned, louder now as pleasure overwhelmed you. “Fucking coming for you. Coming for your cock,” you babbled, thrusting your fingers as deep as you could. “Wish you were here. Wish you were inside me.”

Listening to you come for him had Roy following you over the edge. “Fuck,” he hissed, feeling his cock jerk. “Love your pussy,” he stammered. “Fucking want to fill it up. Fill you til it’s leaking out of you, dirty fucking girl.”

Your moans turned high-pitched as you climaxed, your cunt so tight you wondered how the fuck you managed to fit Roy Kent’s thick cock inside. You nearly dropped your phone, but instead tightened your grip on it, not wanting Roy to miss a single moment of you coming just for him.

He moaned your name as he spilled over, not caring about how he’d have to change his sheets. Pump after pump, his release dripped onto his hand, a hand he desperately wished was your hand. Or mouth. Or cunt.

You collapsed on your bed with a groan, coming down from your high, listening as Roy’s breaths became just as soft and ragged as your own. With a sigh, you pulled your fingers out of your soaked pussy; you rubbed them together, wondering when you last got this wet on your own.

Then again, were you really on your own tonight?

“You… you come for me?” Roy’s voice was so soft, so gentle.

“Yeah,” you assured him, your eyes fluttering shut. “Just for you, Kent.”

His chuckle had your heart fluttering even more than your pussy just had. “Good, good, I’m glad.” He paused, unable to help the smile that grew on his face. “That was…”

You giggled and stretched your free hand over your head. “Yeah, it was.”

Roy was quiet for a moment, choosing to ignore the mess beneath his sheets. “I liked it,” he admitted. “A lot.”

“Good.” You gave a little wiggle, reveling in your post-orgasm bliss. “Could do it again sometime. If you want to, that is.”

“Oi, careful,” he warned playfully. “You might get me addicted to this shit. Almost as addicted as I am to you.”

Fuck. Did he really just say that?

You let out a nervous little giggle, pretending you weren’t obsessed with the words that slipped out before he could think about them. “Maybe I want you addicted.” You paused for a moment, wishing you were in his arms, and scolding yourself for it. “Hey, I should, er, probably clean myself up.”

“Yeah, yeah, me too.” Roy cleared his throat. “Can I call you back after?”

“I’d like that.”

Once you’d cleaned yourself up and thrown on a clean pair of panties and your Greyhounds sweatshirt- a choice you tried not to think too hard about- you turned off the lights and settled into bed properly. Just as you were wondering if Roy would actually call you back, your phone vibrated; you grinned when you saw Roy Kent appear on your screen.

“Hey.”

“Hi there,” he hummed, resting a hand behind his head as he stared up into the darkness. “How… how’re you feeling?”

His nervous tone had you snuggling lower into your bed. “Pretty darn good,” you assured him. “You?”

“Yeah, fucking good.” He smiled in spite of the shyness he suddenly felt. “You’re really somethin’, you know that?”

You turned onto your side, stretching your free hand over to the side of your bed that suddenly felt far too empty. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His smile grew. “You’re just… kind of amazing.” He felt himself start to gush; fuck, he couldn’t help it. “I don’t fucking know. Don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.”

Your body buzzed with delight, more from his affectionate rambling than your post-orgasm bliss. “Anyone like me?” you teased, urging him on.

“Oh, fuck off,” he laughed, shaking his head at your coyness. “You’re incredible. Fucking gorgeous. Badass as all hell. So fucking confident. Damn funny. And, well, you’re not bad in bed.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “Fucking dream come true.”

Oh hell. Roy’s words punched your heart with each syllable, making you forget about all your resolutions about not falling for the gruff, sexy manager. “You’re pretty wonderful yourself,” you heard yourself admit. “And I’m not just talking about the fact that you made me orgasm over the phone.”

You weren’t sure how much longer you stayed on the phone with Roy Kent, murmuring sweet nothings back and forth before moving on to general chitchat, the conversation flowing as naturally as it did when you were in his arms after sex. The last thing you remembered before you slipped into sleep was the sound of Roy Kent sleepily mumbling, “I really fucking miss you.”

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[the-northern-continent]

Seeing some people worried about party balance with only 2 companions. Now, I’m no expert at Dragon Age combat, but I have done a couple Nightmare runs with some extremely cursed party comps (3 rogues + ranged mage, oops all glass cannons, solo daggers, etc.).

So I thought I’d put together a quick guide on how I balance out a “weird” party. Hopefully this will open up more options for your own parties, whether in Veilguard or in the previous games!

Basic theory

To win an encounter, we need to make our enemies die faster than us. So we want to speed up the damage we do to them, while slowing down the damage they do to us.

By that metric, some abilities are less helpful than we’d expect. For example, healing. We’re reducing the damage done to us, but we’re also using up time, resources, and skill points that could have done damage to them. We’re slowing down the fight for everyone; we may not be shifting the balance in our favor.

On the flip side, there’s a big difference between killing an enemy and ALMOST killing an enemy. If we load up on huge area attacks, we’re getting great damage efficiency, but it’s spread over many foes. Ten enemies at 1hp deal twice as much damage as five enemies at full health. There is no partial credit. Until an enemy actually reaches zero, they’re just as dangerous as they were at full health. We’re speeding up the fight for everyone, doing more total damage while our foes continue to hit us at full strength.

Key roles

If we want to actually widen the gap between our damage and the enemies’ damage, we need crowd control and spike damage.

In a classic tank/healer/dps party, the primary crowd control is the warrior’s taunt. But it could also be their knockdowns and stuns. It could be a mage’s freeze, paralysis, or pull of the abyss. It could be a rogue sending people to sleep or scattering caltrops to slow them down. Anything that clusters, slows, or stops our enemies, setting them up for more damage from us while also making it harder for them to hit back.

Meanwhile, spike damage fills in any gaps in our crowd control. A faraway archer or mage might not rely on movement, and bosses may be immune to many/all forms of CC. These enemies need to be spiked down while the rest of their allies are locked in CC. A rogue is the traditional choice for this, but mages can stock up on single- or limited-target spells, and warriors can also be specced into more focused abilities. Damage buffs like horn of valor, haste, or mark of death also help here. We get less total damage than we would with big AoEs, but the earlier we can drop someone, the faster we strip away their damage + their own attempts to CC us. For some bosses, killing them may also skip to the end of the fight.

Once we have these two roles covered, we can pad out the rest of our slots with multi-target damage. This can also be handled by any class, whether it’s a mage dropping fireballs, a spinning warrior, or a rogue blanketing the battlefield with arrows. With these abilities, we first target any large groups we can’t crowd control, then work our way down to clean up the rest of the battlefield.

To really underline this: all of these roles can be filled by any class. When building a party, don’t pay attention to classes, pay attention to roles. Are we getting enough crowd control, spike damage, and damage efficiency? Veilguard provides some additional help here: the skill trees have labels showing which areas of the tree deal with control, burst, and sustain.

Troubleshooting

Dying at the beginning of the fight. This is almost always a crowd control issue. We need to take several enemies off the field right away. Unless they’re very squishy, killing them would be too slow. We may also be triggering multiple encounters at once. On the next reload, slow down and don’t go as far into the new area. Maybe even retreat back through a door or behind a wall to get some free crowd control. If enemies can’t easily reach us, they’ll naturally clump together in the bottleneck.

Dying midway through the fight. We need more spike damage. Prioritize enemies who are not crowd controlled — we don’t want to waste our time spiking down enemies that are already “dead”. We may also be missing the trick to this encounter. See if there are any environmental features or interactive items we missed the first time around.

Dying near the end of the fight. First, rule out issues in earlier phases of the fight. Focusing on the long game can be a self-fulfilling prophecy — if we take too many longer-term abilities, we may be sacrificing our chance to end the fight early. When we’re sure we have enough crowd control and spike damage, we can start to worry about overall damage efficiency. Stack on some damage buffs and/or combo detonations to squeeze even more efficiency out of each AoE. ⚔️

[thewisaaaaad]

EDIT I FORGOT TO PUT WARNINGS WHOOPS (tw: basically an autopsy on a living person but they are ok)

more ranting lets go. Lets get back to the main story (i say to myself)

After Kallamar brings the lamb into the operating room at the back of his crystal palace, well away from prying eyes besides his witness, the first thing he notices is that the lamb should not still be alive, as they have lost a lot of Ichor just getting there. the second thing he notices is that the lamb has leshies eye and his own ears. This is obviously a betrayal, as only one bishop knows where all the artifacts are.

the next logical step, of course, is to remove his ears from the lamb.

Naturally, shamura had a plan for that, and kallamar watches in horror as the ear he had carefully removed shrivels into ash in his tentacles from the curse placed on it, and then regrows on the lamb. very painfully, too. good thing he didn't go for the eye first.

deciding to leave that problem for later, he inspects the rest of the lamb, finding them stiched together with only holy spiders thread.

the sutures are all atrocious, and he spends the afternoon re-stitching the lamb together, so they leak less blood, and hopefully heal in time.

their blood was strange and smelled of ozone, their heartbeat erratic but powerful, thundering in their chest like it was trying to break free.

as he works on the lamb, upon whom painkillers have had only marginal effect, he notices very odd foreign bodies within the lamb: copper and zink plates, heavily corroded, were jammed into their muscles. It appeared as though they once stuck out through the stitches that riddled his patient, but were snapped off instead of removed entirely, leaving warped metal scrap to slice his muscles apart.

one set of plates was different, lodged in the cracks of shamuras skull. they still stuck out, hidden underneath the wool.

there were burn marks all over them, and the wool was singed.

the scrap removed, the tissue sown together. just another patient. keep focused.

almost a full day has passed, and he has had to turn away multiple of his disciples to focous on his work, but now he had a visitor he could not ignore.

he forgot his sister was coming today. He could have sworn that it was next month, why did it have to be today, this was the worst time for-!

he took a deep breath steadying his nerves. he sent the message along for her to join him. there was no avoiding this confrontation, and it was better her than shamura.

he would tell her of this.

he had no choice.

[youbutstupid]

I’m so guilty of missing Elle out of my last post so here is why I think she was such an important character in season 1 in order to set the basis for the show and how, in my opinion, her journey represents the journey of the audience

At the beginning of the series, Elle seemed almost hopeful about the BAU and was very eager to make an impression on Gideon. She was determined and optimistic to make her mark on the team and to carve her place.

She was successful in this too and she made her mark clearly, especially with Reid and Morgan who both seemed to trust her immensely and consider her a friend quite quickly.

Despite this optimistic view on her job, she began to notice cracks and point them out to the audience, and these cracks were how law enforcement dealt with women, particularly female victims. Whilst the men on the BAU tried to sympathetic, they lacked tact and there are multiple episodes where Elle recognised this.

Despite this, she still remained positive in her involvement in the team and tried to fill in these cracks by herself as the only female field agent on the team at the time. That is until the Fisher King.

During the Fisher King, Elle realised just how flawed the team was; not only the team but the system itself.

She tried to call out for help but the only one who seemed to show up was Reid and as a 24 year old with a limited view, he wasn’t much help. She was completely alone and she realised that she was feeling the same loneliness that the victims she helped everyday was dealing with.

She tried to come back to the field, but as she watched the system continue to fail women and leave them vulnerable, she felt her own fear and took matters into her own hands, which would ultimately lead to her leaving the team as she would have no choice to.

Her story hits the audience with the fact that what they are watching is not justice being served; it is not a perfect crime show. They’re watching a team which is flawed be part of a system which is flawed and it forces the audience to view the victims in a different light as we were able to see their fear through Elle’s eyes.

The issues Elle raised also foreshadow the issues that’ll be faced in the exact season she leaves in. She raises the issue that female victims never actually get justice, and we see this in Season 2 episode 18 after she has left. She also raised the issue that the team were not there to help her when she needed it, and Reid suffers from this himself also in season 2.

At first, the audience may think of Elle as irrational however later in the season, after she has left, all of her points are proved right.

She was only there for one full season but her character was used very clearly in order to convey the flaws in the show that we are watching and we are made to realise some of the same things she does as she does. She started out with a positive view just like all of us did, but her loss of hope in the system causes the audience to question it, only for her to be proven completely right not long after she is gone.

Idk if I fully made sense there, but she was just such a perfect character

[xxsycamore]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐂

↬ 💋 "You're going to stand here against the wall because you're being punished."

Napoleon Bonaparte x Main Character • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Bickering; Femdom to Maledom; Light Dom/sub; Lipstick; Kissing; Marking; Neck Kissing; Teasing; Nipple Play; Blow Jobs; Dirty Talk; Vaginal Sex; Size Kink; Multiple Orgasms; Creampie; Post-Sex Cuddless • wordcount: 3,831 • masterlist

a/n: Today marks FOUR years since I love this man......Enjoy🙇🏻‍♀️

"Who kisses the other more?"

"Easy. That would definitely be me-"

"It's me."

Napoleon and MC cross their gazes, lips still parted in mutual interruption. Napoleon raises a brow, quick to defend his bold statement. "Nunuche, I love you, but no."

"Excuse me?? I'm kissing you every chance I get! And you know that!"

"Nunuche." He puts a hand over hers, insisting overconfidently. "Need I remind you of what I'm infamous for, in this mansion? They even go as far as call as to me a kissaholic, yet you still…"

"That's nothing! You might have your kiss attacks in the mornings, but I'm out there giving you full-course meals of smooches all throughout the day! Are you seriously going to argue with me about this right now?"

Vincent awkwardly sinks into his seat, lowering his face into the 101 Questions For Couples book that he picked up as an anniversary present for Napoleon and MC. He is starting to regret his choice, as he never as much as imagined these two to be the type to argue over anything at all. And now they're having a couple's argument over this. It's somehow fitting and, frankly, it's even adorable, but all he wants right now is to restore the peace between the two… but how does he do that?

Out of nowhere, (as per usual) comes Sebastian, who might have listened in. Before Vincent can wave his arms at him to signal SOS, the couple figures out by themselves how to get help from the poor butler.

Napoleon and MC turn in his direction, putting an abrupt end to what only looked like them about grab each other's collars (were they going to fight, or kiss?! ) only to shout at Sebastian, almost in one voice:

"Sebas! Which one of us do you think kisses the other more?"

Sebastian stands up stoic and serious, visibly considering their question with utmost diligence. They've given him too much power in the debate and he has to use it wisely.

His hand travels up to rest under his chin, as if deep in thought. His fingers ghost over his lips which are curling up in a smile. Could it be that he's recalling an event that would help him with his decision?

"I'd say… Monsieur Napoleon. He is the person I have more record of seeing initiating a kiss, MC."

Napoleon is busy putting his hands on his hips triumphally as MC simply stands there and gasps, taking in a gigantic portion of pure betrayal… coming from her dear co-worker of all people, nonetheless.

"That's- That's only because I keep my love in private! What's wrong with that?"

"Absolutely nothing, MC. Forgive me but even without this data, Monsieur Napoleon strikes me as the person who'd kiss you more, rather than the other way around. He is a warm and loving person who wants to remind his partner of his feelings regularly. Physical touch is his second love language. Those are my observations."

What should have been an attempt to put out MC's burning rage seems a lot more like flattery towards the man he idolizes instead. Having had enough, MC gets up in a rush, clearly headed for the door. Seeing that Napoleon is not following behind, she turns on her heel, crosses the room back to his side, grabs him by the sleeve until he's got no choice but to follow, and spells it out for him.

"We're going. To our room."

Before anyone has a chance to say anything, Napoleon is snatched away with the loud thud of a closing door echoing behind him.

Vincent closes 101 Questions For Couples shut and shakily puts it down on the tea table as if it's a cursed relic bound to bring despair. He frowns at Sebastian.

"What do you think will happen now?"

Sebastian nods with eyes at rest, as if the answer is clear as a day.

"It's obvious, Master Vincent. They are going to kiss and make up."

Napoleon knows things are about to get serious when he hears MC locking their bedroom door from the inside. Uh oh. He decides for now it's best to cross his arms and patiently wait until MC decides to approach him and address her grudges. And preferably, to remove that smirk from his face. It's a little hard when he finds her cute when mad. And what is she doing now? She seems to be tying her hair back in a slick ponytail. Someone's getting hot, perhaps. Should he be scared, or should he be aroused? The limited time to ponder is already over as she finally turns around to face him. Her angry glare is turning him on. He is not sure how to fight her with a hard-on. 

"Hey…"

"Hey." MC returns the pointless greeting, doing a good job of keeping her unwavering cold expression. She surely doesn't plan on simply standing there attacking him with that dagger-shooting glare alone. Only a breather more and she steps in closer; reaches out to him.

Napoleon stands still, unsure of what to expect. He's got an idea or two about his own next move but he first wants to see hers first. Jade orbs travel down to follow the movements of her hands as she begins to tug at his clothes.

One by one, the buttons of his white shirt come undone under her gentle hands. She is taking her sweet time, undressing him slowly, agonizingly so. It's as soothing as when she helps him change for bed when he's sick. Something tells him he's not getting all tucked in and cozy this time.

"Do you need help with that, Nunuche?"

"Ferme-la."

That's a harsh way of telling him to shut up. But he's guilty of using the same words when he's annoyingly nudged awake in the morning sometimes; he can't help it. He does shut up.

MC makes sure to not leave a single clothed spot on his entire toned body, making him feel exposed and watched by her sharp gaze. After awhile, the silence is at last broken by her.

"Now."

Now? Napoleon almost asks aloud, curious to see how she'd shut him up this time. He hopes his boner is not getting any more obvious because of this.

He expect her to come closer, because where else she could be going right now? But instead, she takes a step back, looks at him from head to toe, and then goes to her dressing table. Napoleon shivers. Is she going to fetch some sort of torture device from there? Could it be that his innocent Nunuche is finally turning to the dark side because he crossed the line teasing her?

Oh, it's just lipstick. She hoovers over the dressing table to look into the mirror and applies it precisely; just as if she's getting ready for a nice date out. Napoleon is dumbstruck and wants to jokingly ask if that's for getting her dominatrix persona on, but remains silent. He is not left hanging for much longer as soon MC pockets her lipstick and giddily returns in front of Napoleon.

"Can I at least lay down?"

"No~ You're going to stand here against the wall because you're being punished."

So that's indeed where things are going. Napoleon gulps down, holding back a sigh fueled by the frustration of finding himself uncharacteristically not in control. He tries to put two and two together, finding a connection between MC's blood-red lips and the fact that she's got him all stripped down like an empty canvas.

She gets on her tippy toes and puts a hand on the wall behind him to steady herself before kissing him gently on the lips. Napoleon wishes with his whole being to return the kiss and transform it into something less innocent, but the chance slips out of his grasp as MC withdraws too soon. Ducking down for another smooch attack, this time she aims at his cheek. It reminds him of being greeted back from work, so pure and warming. Another two or three kisses are pressed against his other side and he feels giddy, imagining what he looks like with so much lipstick smeared on him, like a little kid on his birthday when it's the aunt's turn to give a present. It's ridiculous, everything that is happening right now, but more ridiculously so he enjoys it and doesn't question a thing. That’s the far opposite of a punishment, though. The next kiss lands lower, on his nape, and MC uses her hand to tip his chin upwards so she can place one right under his jaw. Next, she pays more attention to his neck, making a row of kisses down his collarbone. She knows he is ticklish here but that only encourages her more for this impromptu torture. 

It doesn't get any better for Napoleon once those devilish lips find their way down from his collarbones. Nothing could've prepared him for the contrastingly bold gesture of suddenly having his nipples playfully pinched and pulled. It comes nonetheless, making him grunt out a moan of surprise. As if apologizing for getting too naughty, MC kisses them better, leaving two identical lipstick prints around his areolas. Napoleon gazes down at her, bewildered, as she slowly sinks lower, kissing her way there as well. Her hands map the familiar area of his abs, replacing the feather-light caress of her fingers with the one of her lips time and time again. Excitement pools in Napoleon's loins as the woman in front of him finds herself fully on her knees, having reached his most sensitive place with her lips in the meantime. His fists clench and unclench with the absence of anything to grasp into and his neglected cock twitches with anticipation.

"Has the color come off already?"

Ah, she refers to her lips that are indeed a much paler shade of red already. The sudden distraction breaks his expectations in million pieces as he just nods tepidly. MC casually sits back on her heels as she reaches inside her pocket to fish out the lipstick.

Napoleon tries to steady his heartbeat, watching her apply it anew on her beautiful lips, kiss-swollen to perfection and just so fuckable, but that's his cock doing the thinking instead of him. Hence the need to calm his pulse. She takes her time in order to be careful, and truly, without the aid of a mirror, perfectly fills them in with the red color; if he knows anything about that. He clicks his tongue, realizing where all this red is going.

"Down there, too?"

"Oh, yes." She clicks the cap back on and discards the cosmetic product to roll off somewhere on the floor for now. "Especially down there."

You're driving me crazy, Napoleon thinks, and if he has to be honest with himself, he is not so sure of however much longer he would be able to limit himself to thoughts alone. Perhaps his Nunuche underestimates the situation. More and more small grunts leave his lips as MC puts imprints of the newly applied lipstick on his fair untanned skin, dangerously close to his cock but missing it on purpose. The red marks bloom on his hipbones and the inside of his tights, it feels like forever before she finally does what he was hoping for most. Wrapping her delicate hand around his stiff length, a kiss appears on the side of it, too; right over a thick vein that runs there. The most frustrating of it all has to be the fact that she does none of it all with the intention of giving him pleasure. Not that her plan is much more innocent, as she particularly marks him as hers all over, in her own way.

He is able to, at last, enjoy her mouth for one short but rewarding moment as she parts her lips and takes the tip in between, swirling her tongue around it. Perhaps not wishing to ruin her make-up with such activity, she lets go in shortly, noticing how he twitches eagerly in her hand. She keeps his cock there, stroking the base slowly as she busies herself with additional kisses on the length of his tights, knees and however much lower her position would allow.

She stands to her feet and the curtain falls. Hands on her hips, like a craftsman admiring his handiwork. Her eyes travel to chase over trails of dusty red roses blooming all over Napoleon's body, but as they finally return to his face, the expression doesn't match her own, not one in a bit. He looks out of breath as if each of those kisses were received by his mouth instead, face flushed and hair sticking wetly to his face.

"Do you like what you've made of me, Nunuche?" Snorts Napoleon, wondering if she is proud of herself for her little game and the effects it had on him.

"Mhmm! I love it."

MC claps her hands together, visibly admiring his body again to rub it in his face just how much she means it when she says she loves it. She gets closer again, lifting up his limp right hand and placing kisses against his wrist, just a little spot she missed.

"I'm almost not mad at you anymore, Napoleon. You look thoroughly kissed, and everyone who gets a look at you would know that it's me who kisses you more… and not the other way around."

"So this is what your little plan was about, hmm?" Napoleon forcibly releases his right hand from her grasp and uses it to collect her chin instead, squeezing her cheeks firmly. "You said almost not mad. What's the price I have to pay for your full forgiveness?"

MC begins playing coy with a little hum rumbling in her throat, and Napoleon releases his hold so she can give the reply she comes with. She decides on putting on her commanding tone one last time, having decided on her answer.

"Fuck me nice and we're good."

"Yeah." Putting the overdue end to her naughty ministrations by makeshiftly handcuffing her wrists with his much stronger hands, Napoleon's gaze pins her down. "Yeah, that's what I was intending to do."

Napoleon suspects that he hardly needs to throw her on the bed himself, as something tells him she'd straightly jump there if he were to let her go now. One way or another, she is soon to find herself pinned under his large frame, inhaling nothing but his scent on the pillow as he envelops her smaller body with his own from behind. He spreads her legs at a favorable angle, barely having the mind to make sure she is comfortable before grabbing into his cock and guiding it towards her sopping wet hole. He grunts and grabs her by the waist, dragging her further down the bed to ensure they're as close as possible, and watches her arching her bottom in anticipation.

Napoleon rubs his blunt head into her swollen lower lips, teasingly. He collects her wetness until the glide is smooth and rewarding, but makes sure it's not too pleasurable for her just yet. He aims at her dripping hole and guides his cock there slowly, enjoying the way she clenches desperately around him as if to pull him further in.

As he withdraws, familiar whines of dissatisfaction reach his ears. Despite the person he knows himself to be, being unfair once in a while feels just right. Especially after what she did to him earlier.

MC curls one leg around his own, trying to make him get the hint and hurry up, and Napoleon's eyes darken with lust at her desperation.

"Shh, ma chérie, I've got you." He fails to hold in a chuckle of endearment, heart swelling with pride at how easily he drives her crazy for what only he could give her. "I've got you, is this what you wanted?"

He gradually pushes in, stretching out her insides with his girthy length that never ceases to be just a little too big for her.

"Oohh! Yes, yes, give it all to me… Napoleon… don't make me wait any longer…"

"Hmm? Can you take it all in?" He strokes over the small of her back, admiring the beautiful arch of her back; the way she presents herself so willingly to him, making it that much easier to ignore the part of his brain that wants revenge for the part of it that wants raw pleasure.

"Y-yes, please, more, please…"

Slowly, he bottoms out. Letting out a satisfactory moan of his own, he didn’t until now realize how much self-control it cost him to keep his gentleness. That and, with being previously stimulated to a certain dangerous degree, he wants to throw away any plans of taking it nice and slow from now on. Screw revenge. He gives one long look at the place they're connected again, admiring how much of him has disappeared inside her hot tightness, and then grunts again, readjusting his position.

He drapes his body over his lover's, chest to her back, using the opportunity of being close enough to whisper in her ear. Each word he utters this way is making her clench deep inside, and he makes the best out of it, feeling utterly satisfied with himself but remembering to keep the grin out of his tone.

"I'm going to move now." He breathes in and then out, "I'll try to go at it slowly because it looks like you need to cool down, but…"

"No…" a sharp inhale, "No, give it your best." She shifts her body a little, rocking her bottom on his cock as if to demonstrate the intensity of her wish. "Fuck me for your pleasure."

Napoleon chuckles darkly, pecking her arm with wetted lips and collecting her wrists again into his iron grip.

"How am I supposed to do that when you're already rutting against me so selfishly? You're trying to get me to set the pace that you need. Look at you fucking yourself against me."

"Nnh-"

"Yeah? Do you want me to let you keep going? Can you cum like that?"

Instead of wanting to keep going or not, a more fitting question would be whether she could retain herself from it. The pulse in her ears is maddening as she chases after her high, the tip of Napoleon's cock rubbing against her sweet spot and MC making sure she is maintaining the angle all the way. Soon enough, without having the time to warn him, she shouts into the pillows and rocks her body repeatedly, using his cock like a sex toy, convulsing harshly around it. Napoleon groans, bucking slightly back into her and enjoying the sight, the feeling of her coming undone in his arms coupled with the heavenly tightness wrapping around his cock. He presses kisses into her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo; then pressing more kisses into to whichever part of her he could reach, until she comes down from her high. He almost considers her calmed down before another set of whines leaves her mouth.

"Already?" Napoleon teases. He gives an experimental thrust, knowing not to overwhelm her senses.

"Mmm, more, more!"

That's a nice reaction, he thinks to himself as he thrusts again, slowly gaining speed. He wants nothing more than to fuck her breathless at last, reducing her to a moaning mess beneath him. He could mockingly refer back to the thought that it all started with her having the upper hand, but maybe later. Though it's intriguing to imagine another scenario, of how this should've played out - with him tied to the bedframe and his hips straddled as she rides him to her satisfaction. He would be a rotten liar if he says he isn't interested in seeing it come true. But oh how much better victory tastes. There is a good reason she didn't go all the way, and that's because she wanted to be fucked raw and fast instead. But since she has his heart - she's been having it for a long time now - more than playing with power he wants to simply satisfy her and quench her thirst for him. He knows that no amount of true dominance would feel as good to her as to simply have him buried deep to the hilt inside her, moaning his pleasure into her ears as he spills his seed against her deepest parts. It's because he feels the same way.

"Do you still want me to keep going? Fast and deep like that? You're going to make me want to fill you up."

"Ahhhh, yes, Napoleon, Napoleon do it, please, fill me up with your cum, please."

He thrusts hard and noisily into her wet heat, feeling his release building up by her cute pleas alone. In addition, she feels incredibly hot and tight around him, coaxing his release as he tries to maintain a steady pace.

Enclosing her arms with his own muscular ones and holding a vice-like grip on her wrists, he lets himself go.

The burning sensation of Napoleon hitting her deepest, most sacred part is slightly painful, but in a very good way. She feels so full. The sheer thought of him giving into his desire and claiming her like this is enough to send her spiraling into pleasure, but the feeling of his hot cum rushing into her depths is mind-shuddering on its own. She doesn’t realize there are tears rolling down her cheeks. Rutting away the rest of his high into her hips, smacking the sweat-lined skin of her ass, he moans her name, letting himself be milked from every last drop as she keeps convulsing and following him into the throes of release in high-pithed, pleading shrieks that morph into downright pornographic moans. Their legs tangle together, maintaining the gradually dying down friction until their senses start to calm down.

Napoleon can feel the slowly cooling layer of sweat covering the skin of his back, though he still feels very hot; the humid summer air demandingly asserting his presence. He carefully rolls off MC, making sure she is getting enough air to breathe. He almost pouts in realization, I'm always the one doing all the work yet she is panting harder. Pleasure still rocks all over him, and his heart beats lovingly at the feeling of MC curling into his chest even when she must be feeling hot.

They stay like this for a moment, catching their breath, hands wandering each other's bodies, and sending muted fireworks of pleasure aftershocks everywhere they touch. It could either be that he is ticklish, or the endorphins kicking in, but soft giggles escape Napoleon's lips and pour right into hers, infecting her along the way. It's a very clumsy kiss, but it gets Napoleon an idea.

"I still think I can turn the score around. Let's see who leaves this room more thoroughly kissed or whatever." 

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @pro-cat-stination @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @canaria-blackwell @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @violettduchess @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @princesspraya @delicateikemenmemes Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[makeyoumine69]

All I Want for Christmas Is You

● Pairing: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

● Summary: You and Patrick need to get ready for the upcoming Christmas party, but suddenly your preparation turns out into something spicy.

● Warnings: 18+/ NSFW as always! │fluff (kinda), teasing, nipple play, body worship, finger sucking, sensual blowjob with titjob & handjob, fingering, biting and marking, sweet dirty talk, heavy daddy kink, praise kink, sassy reader vs sassy Patrick, cum play & swallowing (a lot of cum coz that's me lol), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, pet names.

● Wordcount: 3.4k

● A/N: This is gonna be my final fic for this year, I hope you like it! 👉👈 P.S. When I came here 3 months ago I didn't expect my writing to get any attention! I want to thank everyone who supports me-it means a lot, and I love you all!💕

● Useful links: │Main Masterlist│ │My fav AP Christmas edit│

The Christmas frenzy was in full swing as there were only a few days left before the most magical day of the year. Pierce & Pierce was organizing its annual Christmas Party, and you were lucky to be a part of this “joyous occasion”. But to be honest–you were not happy about it at all, as you didn’t like to be surrounded by self-absorbed Wall Street yuppies for a long time. Unfortunately, you had no choice but to accept Patrick’s invite as you knew how important this event was for him–for his ego to be specific.

“(Y/N), how long are you going to sit out there?” Bateman’s irritated voice resounded through the bathroom door as you were sitting in the tub, trying to relax.

“Uh… Just a few minutes!” 

Suddenly, you heard the door open as he came in, grumping even louder: “Few minutes was almost an hour ago!” “What?”

“Stop pretending, Sweetie,” Patrick nearly growled, frowning all the time as he was drilling your back with his angry gaze. “It’s almost 3 p.m. and you haven’t even tried on any of your new dresses! What are you even thinking?!”

Damn, he seemed to be furious–you thought, turning around to see him standing near the door, with a scowl on his face and his shirt sleeves rolled up. “Okay! I’m almost done.”

“Just so you know–we need to be at Paul Allen’s house in 4 hours.”

“I remember! You don’t have to repeat it all the time, better give me a towel please,” you asked him, extending your hand. “And who is Paul Allen, anyway?”

“Oh… You don’t need that information,” Patrick stated sternly, wrapping a white towel around your body. “Just trust me it’s a very important event.”

Smiling, you let him gently pull you out of the bath, enjoying each second of being trapped in his muscular arms. “But why?” pleased with yourself for being so bratty, you didn’t even touch the floor when you felt a harsh slap on your ass. That itching sensation made you flinch in his hands as you howled unhappily: “T-that was completely unnecessary..”

“I don’t agree,” he placed you on the ground in front of the sink, turning away from you as he was about to leave. “Sometimes, I think you may even like it. That’s why you behave like a brat, dont’cha?”

“Who knows?” You chuckled in return before you leaned on the sink, arching your back and slightly swaying your hips.

Hiding his hands into the pockets of his elegant pants, Patrick couldn't help but let out a gasp while his eyes were ravenously traveling around your pretty shape; the picture of you, standing so seductively in front of him, expelled all his current thoughts as he couldn't even make a move.

“(Y/N)...” He called out your name in a suddenly raspy voice.

“Mmmhm?” You rejoined and looked at him while rubbing a body lotion over your cleavage. “Patrick, what is it?”

“Relax, Princess,” he murmured softly, watching your hands sliding against your wet skin. “Just wanted to say–how beautiful you are.”

After these words, Bateman gave you his most cocky smile before he pushed off from the wall, disappearing into his bright bedroom.

For a moment, you stood still, feeling your heart flutter from his unexpected but sweet compliment. Not that he didn’t say such things at all, but Patrick was that type of man who liked to be praised rather than to praise someone else. Wrapped in your thoughts, you came back to your skin routine as the clock was ticking and you still had so many things to finish.

You eventually finished your routine and left the bathroom to collect the dresses you needed to try on, which were carefully sitting on racks in his bedroom.

“Oh Gosh…” you looked over them, gliding a hand across the expensive fabric of one dress. “How am I supposed to make a choice?” 

You heard his sassy chuckle behind your back and then, his hot breath brushed against your neck as he was about to press a gentle kiss. Snorting discreetly, you allowed him to encircle your waist and press against his firm frame; this innocent physical contact coaxed a muffled moan to fall from your parted lips, especially when Patrick rolled his hips against your ass to make you feel his rock-like hardness.

“You’re not gonna make it easier, right?” you tried to laugh it off, sensing his kisses going lower by the second. “Damn, these dresses must cost a fortune.”

Suddenly, Patrick stopped his assault on your neck and after leaving a sensual hickey on your shoulder, he whispered: “You don’t need to think about it. How many times did I tell you?” he squeezed your buttocks, pulling you tighter to his chest. “Are you going to start trying them on?”

“Uh-huh,” you muttered, playing with the collar of his shirt to tease him. “But first, I need to take care of this big problem in your pants,” in confirmation of your words, you palmed his hard groin, not losing eye contact even for a second and watching his lips curl into a voiceless moan. “Don’t you think?”

“Princess…” Bateman growled, holding you closer as he pushed himself into your palm.

“That means ‘yes’, I suppose?”

Hot and bothered, Patrick gave you a stare full of lust before he snuggled into your neck to leave a tangible bite on your soft skin and whispered: “That can mean whatever you want, baby.”

“Mm-mh, Daddy….” You whined into his ear as you started to grind against his hard bulge, feeling the growing need inside your womb along with the slickness between your legs. 

The way you called him, closing your eyes as you were about to lose yourself right here and right now–encouraged him to lift you like a feather and moved towards his bed, kissing your face, neck, and cleavage wherever he could, while his brawny hands were exploring your mouth-watering hips. 

Thrilled, Patrick sat on the edge of his big bed, his hands still worshiping all your pretty curves as he couldn't get enough of your body–that was literally beyond his power. Gently, you pushed him to lean on his elbows as you were about to undo his belt and his pants. Burning with impatience, Bateman looked down at you with how your hands were working on freeing his painfully hard cock, and then, he let out a muffled groan when your wet tongue finally contacted his hot flesh. 

“Arghhk-keep going, girl,” Patrick snarled in a low voice, throwing his head back from the way your lips were playing with his blushing tip, licking off all his pre-cum from it. “You look like a sexy little angel with your mouth wrapped around me like this…”

Each word he said–every single one, was awakening something crazy inside of your gut as he was the only one who could appeal to your primal instincts and free your mind completely.

“I love how you taste, Daddy…” you mewled, taking a quick break. “Do you want to cum on my boobies?”

Innocently, you looked at him from under your lashes whilst your hands were undoing a white robe you were wearing, and then Bateman had to bite his lower lip from the open sight of your exposed breasts as his mouth was uncontrollably watering. 

“I wanna taste these little sweet peaks of yours,” Patrick stated as he sat up with no delay, pushing his heated face against your tits and latching his mouth around your tight nipple.”

“A-awww! Mmmp-please, take both of them,” whining, you tilted your head and arched your back to make him more comfortable before your loud moan echoed in your head as he did what you were asking for. “Y-you’re going to make me… Pass out with p-pleasure… aaa-aahhh.”

Shaking like a leaf, you were briskly stroking his dick and running your fingers through his now fluffy hair with your other hand; the feeling Patrick was giving to you, suckling both of your nipples with his large palms encircled around your sensitive boobs, made you see stars and your legs got weak, so you had to lean against him for support.

“Baby, we just started…” Batman exhaled lustfully, burying his face in the hollow between your breasts, and then he continued his ministrations by taking them into his mouth one by one. “Mmm-hm, can’t get enough of these delicious boobs.”

“Pat… Patty, I love your mouth so much…” Whimpering, you wrapped your both hands around his head, pushing your fingers through his messy brown hair.

“And that’s all?” he paused and looked up at you, as you were sitting on his lap, burning his skin with your body heat. “You only like my mouth?”

His unhappy expression almost made you laugh–so grumpy and cute at the same time; you couldn't help but pinch his right cheek before you kissed his lips to shush his upcoming outrage. 

“Oh, Daddy… How silly sometimes you can be!” You murmured, tracing a finger against his soft lips.

“Don’t test my kindness, little one…”

“Believe me or not, but I want to test something else…”

With a light but demanding push on his chest, you compelled him to rest on his elbows again, while you got down on your knees. First, you let yourself enjoy the feeling of his tight muscles, gliding your hands all around his perfect torso and paying extra attention to the notable vein under his navel by pressing a wet kiss on it, and then you leaned over to his groin, leaving behind a trail of sloppy pecks. Huffing, Bateman leaned up a bit to see you playing with his fully erected cock; you were swirling your tongue around his tip before you placed his dick between your breasts, rubbing them against it–this scene forced a loud groan to erupt from his mouth as he fell back on the bed, sensing himself on the verge of self-control.

“Fuck… P-Princes…” he cursed and pressed a hand to his forehead, as the friction your boobs were making felt mind-blowing. “Don’t work too hard, doll… I still need to… To f-fuck you.”

“Whatever you say, Daddy.” You gave him a cunning smirk before you took his swollen tip into your mouth as you kept brushing your tits against his hard length, squeezing them to make the physical contact even more intense. 

Consumed by passion, you were moaning around his hot flesh, bobbing your head up and down at a quick pace and leaving him no chance but to close his eyes from overwhelming bliss and then, Patrick had to cling to his knee as he was watching his thick cock sliding between your juicy boobies. 

“Damn, I’mma cum if you don’t stop… A-aggh, b-baby…” He muffled through his gritted teeth as he was so close to reaching his high. 

Swiping his swollen tip with your tongue, you looked at him to tease him even more: “We both know you don’t want me to stop, do you, Daddy?”

With that said, you suddenly change your strategy of making him lose his mind, as you let go of your breasts to palm his heavy sac and massage them while your swollen lips were slipping along his full length. Drooling like a fucking fountain, you allowed his disk to thrust deep inside your mouth–you could feel it with the back of your throat; that harsh stretching sensation caused your eyes to water and your hands to claw at his legs. 

Meanwhile, Patrick was about to go into full feral mode, chasing his release as if his life depended on it. “What a bratty needy girl…” groaning, Bateman grabbed a handful of your hair as he was about to combust from the inflaming lust. “Ahh… Are you gonna drain every drop of cum out of me?”

“Mmm-hm, yes!” nearly sobbing, you sped up your actions and looked into his dark eyes, rubbing his cock and balls at the same time. “Cum for me, Daddy… Cover me with your cream!”

With a guttural loud sound, Patrick squeezed his hands into fists as the level of stimulation was at its peak, coaxing his thick shaft to throb into your grip and paint your boobs white. Tilting your head, you arched your back, letting his hot seed spread all over your clavicle and run down between your breasts.

Breathing heavily, Bateman removed his slightly wet traces from his face–little drops of sweat were flowing off his tense forehead. “Mmm-my sugar Princess… Made Daddy feel so good…” Patrick crooned as he smirked, patting your head and watching you licking his hot cum off your fingers. 

“I enjoyed every second,” you nuzzled against his large palm when he stroked your face before you got up a bit to press your fingers to his lips which were coated with his warm liquid. “However, I didn’t expect you to let us spend our precious time on things like this...”

Without breaking eye contact, Bateman took your soaked digits into his mouth, sucking them and letting out a moan of pleasure that sent an avalanche of goosebumps down your spine. “Well, for such things–I can always find any time… But, baby, please don’t tell me you’re gonna spend another hour in the bathroom?”

Grinning, you caught his lips with yours and that was more than a kiss, as the taste of your different liquids mixed, induced you both to tremble and gasp. “Sorry, Daddy… But I need to have a shower, if only you have something interesting to offer instead…”

Humming to himself, Patrick nodded and pulled you closer to plant a painful hickey on your neck. “You think you’re bold enough to play with me like that, little one? Why do I even need to suggest something when I can simply have my way with you?”

The moment Bateman suddenly squashed your buttocks, a pitiful wail fell from your plump lips and that only spurred him to tighten his grip on you but then; Patrick turned you around, with your back pressed against his bare chest, your legs resting on his wide-open knees. When he touched the thin fabric of your underwear, a loud whimper resonated against the walls of his white bedroom as you couldn't control how your body was reacting to his every move.

“A-awww... Pat-mmmhm.” Wrapping your hand around his neck, you moaned into his ear when he moved your wet panties to the side and slipped a finger into your needy pussy. 

Watching you quivering in his arms, Bateman sat more comfortably on the edge of his bed, opening you up even more whilst he was peppering small kisses along your cheekbone. “I don’t think you’ll need them anymore…”

With that said, he ripped off your underwear before he added one more finger, sending you almost over the edge with how he was stimulating your most sensitive spot.  

“Your fingers… You have such l-long… Fingers,” resting your head on his broad shoulder you let him finger fuck you as deep as he wanted to. “Can I cum… P-please?”

“Please, who?”

“Please… D-Daddy…”

“Mmmhm,” he mumbled in a raspy voice, watching your eyes roll to the back of your head as you were about to burn out like a match right into his arms, because the pleasure became simply unbearable. “You just need a firm hand to know your place... Dont’cha, baby?”

Shivering, you nodded so vigorously in response as right now you were in desperate need of his “hand” as your inner muscles began to spasm around his skillful digits; your toes were curling erratically and your peaks became so tight you thought they would explode, not to mention when Patrick pinched one of them, rolling it between his fingers.

“Aa-aah, mm-my… G-god,” your miserable attempts to pronounce something ended up being cut off by his hot mouth as Bateman was kissing you hungrily, consuming your tongue whilst his fingers were twisting inside you, extending your vivid orgasm. “P-Patrick… Aww-www…”

Ruined and conquered, you gave him an innocently begging glance and he read it right away: “I know baby, I know…”

Encircling your waist, Patrick pressed his forehead against yours as he continued his sweet attack on your overstimulated cleft, stretching your inner channel as he would not let you rest even for a second. 

It didn't take long for you to cum again–his experienced fingers knew their job too well; you had no chance from the very beginning. Fidgeting around his knees, you had to cling to one of them from how your body was shaking, your ravenous moans were all that Bateman could hear at that moment as he was gently kissing your neck, holding your waist to keep you in one place. 

“Such a good girl for Daddy,” after you went limp into his powerful arms, he slipped his fingers out of your bruised pussy. Copying your previous move, he pushed his digits into your mouth to clean them up, and then he locked his lips on yours and it seemed like you were so far away from returning from your high. “This is the best gift for Christmas I could ever dream of…”

Lost, you were feeling yourself so light-headed that you couldn't even acknowledge what Bateman had just said–he could not know it, probably that’s why he chose exactly this moment to tell you such frank words–but that was another story.

Within hours, you were almost done with your look for the upcoming evening and the only thing you had left to do was clasp a golden necklace, which Patrick had gifted you specifically for this event. Finishing the last details of your makeup, you winked at your reflection in the mirror and left the bathroom after that.

When you entered his living room, you saw him, standing near his vast collection of musical tapes as he seemed to look for something. Mesmerized by his marvelous appearance, you stayed behind and admired how insanely beautiful this man was: starting with his perfect side profile and ending with his delicious ass, goddamn–you let out a sigh full of adoration when you heard his velvet voice: “Look who’s here,” he chuckled, looking over you from head to toe and grinning happily. “(Y/N), you look sensational.”

A bit embarrassed, you smiled with your eyes, coming closer to ask him for help: “Can you please assist me with this clasp?” You turned around beside him, exposing your neck for better access.

Gently, Patrick did what you asked, not forgetting to press a soft kiss against the mark on your skin he’d left some moments ago; it was barely visible, but not for him.

Heart-warmed, you turned around and nuzzled your nose against his before saying: “Much appreciated.”

“You’re welcome, Princess,” Patrick replied, strolling away to pick up his Rolex watch from the coffee table. “I hope that was the last thing you had to finish, cause we need to leave out right now, if we don’t want to be late… But it seems like we will be late, anyway.”

Amused, you were watching him going back and forth, fixing his elegant Valentino suit–only now, you noticed Bateman chose the tie to tone your dress, and that just finished you.

A bit later, when you were standing near the door to his apartment, Patrick helped you to put on your coat when you suddenly asked him a cocky question: “So, are you going to tell me more about the guy who’s hosting this party? Why him?”

First, you heard his tired sigh but then he responded: “It was a decision of my colleagues,” he wore his black leather gloves and continued. “Why are you even asking?”

“Just want to know more about the man who triggers you.” You expressed with no hidden meaning, opening the door and looking back at him. 

“What did you just say?” He rejoined in a suddenly stern voice.

“What?” A bit confused, you look into his furious eyes, not understanding what was wrong with your words.

“Mmm, we'll leave that for later.” Patrick declared, wrapping his hand around your waist while he was locking the door.

“I said something I shouldn't have?”

“You’ll contemplate on all these matters after the party,” he said suspiciously with a hint of danger. “Well, if your brain will still have its ability to function after the things that I plan to do with you. And Merry Christmas, by the way.”

Swallowing hard, you looked at the reflection in an elevator door, spotting the devilish smirk on Bateman’s face. “M-Merry Christmas to you too,” you took a sharp breath, feeling the uprising thrill in your chest. “Patrick…”

[myemuisemo]

Watson, discouraged by the impersonal replies Holmes sends to his letters, is instead journaling in chapter X of The Hound of the Baskervilles in Letters from Watson.

Two items caught my attention: the dog cart and the typewriter lady.

Dogs and dog carts

I'd been imagining the English countryside full of little carts pulled by very large dogs, like Nana from Peter Pan. This can be done, as we see in this still from a 2011 Lancashire Online video:

But no! It is a dog cart because it was used for hauling hunting dogs. The dogs are carried in that hat-shaped space under the seats.

As we raise a glass for Mortimer's lost spaniel, the question arises: how big a dog can be transported in a dog cart?

Can we fit an English Mastiff? (English working dog, 30 inches tall at the withers, which is the highest point of the back, near the neck.)

Can it fit a Great Dane? (Hunting dog, minimum 28 inches to the withers.) This dog would also have been called a "mastiff" in 1889.

The massive Great Dane is Scooby-Doo, by the way. So Scooby-Doo of the Moors, if you exist, where are you?

But where could such a hound lie concealed, where did it get its food, where did it come from, how was it that no one saw it by day?

Given that an actual convict, sought by half the countryside, successfully hid in a Neolithic hut and ate meals from the kitchen of the very house where you are staying, Watson, hiding a dog cannot be that hard. The countryside is full of servants nobody bothers to mention and large houses with stables nobody has yet visited. "Oi, ye can't be thinkin' of Minnie, what goes with John at the Pub, can ye? She's a right friendly hound, always up for a pet and a treat."

The typewriter lady

Frankland. has. a daughter. And he disowned her, because of course he did. He's really turning out to not be the jolly old curmudgeon that Watson wants to paint him as.

Many hints are dropped that Laura Frankland Lyons was difficult in some way beyond an impulsive choice of husband -- I'm leaning toward her having a mind of her own and being willing to speak it, rather than to sexual improprieties. Why?

Because although she settles down in a little village (generally agreed to be an expy of Bovey Tracey), the business she starts to support herself is not sewing, laundering, or other respectable-but-ill-paid pursuits typical for single women. It's "a typewriting business."

By 1889, typewriters have existed for about 15 years but been in common business use for more like 5 years. So culturally, Laura Lyons' typewriting business is very modern: more like "learn to code and build apps" in today's world. She's being coded as efficient and independent.

Here's a Fitch 1 typewriter, which might have been a little new for Laura Lyons' business.

Women did start typewriting businesses as soon as typewriters were available! Mark Adams dedicates an entire blog to the history of typewriters, including this gem of a post that documents the early women in this field in the U.S.

So what is Laura Lyons typing, in a little village in Devon? There is surely less business than she could find in a larger settlement. Business and legal documents that require multiple copies might be one line of business. Another is typing someone's book manuscript. Is anyone on the moor writing a memoir? A book on legends? A scientific treatise on butterflies or perhaps skulls?

The mystery man

My bet is 70% on Holmes, 30% on Rodger Baskerville or his heirs.

Watson almost regains his cinnamon roll status with me for this line:

I am certainly developing the wisdom of the serpent, for when Mortimer pressed his questions to an inconvenient extent I asked him casually to what type Frankland's skull belonged, and so heard nothing but craniology for the rest of our drive.