#and takes forever to add useful features

[anti-ao3]

if you still donate to ao3 even though:

ao3 censors any support for palestine

they barely improve the website despite surpassing their donation goals every single time

they do not see anything wrong with RPF that sexualizes REAL minors

they excuse racist fanworks, they actually suspend anyone who does not feel comfortable with pedo/incest shippers, or literally anyone who labels themselves antis or anti p/roships

they also don't see anything wrong with ai generated stories that most likely steal from real writers that put their heart and soul into their works

and perhaps a lot more things they do that i might be forgetting

seriously.

if you get mad at marginalized ppl calling out ao3, and you act entitled when your fandom interests are being threatened, then you're a privileged asshole. if you call everyone "puritans" or "stupid kids" for being critical of ao3, you're a privileged asshole. this is not about you. this is about the actual harm ao3 does to real people. your favorite fanfictions should not be your priority. especially if you want to keep supporting palestine or people of color in general, you can't just get mad when they point out the flaws of ao3 and stop supporting them when they're not convenient to you.

[edwardos]

This is awesome to have in Beta, seriously.

[gay-dorito-dust]

How these guys would react to having their face held…

Dick smiles out of habit and pushes his face even further into your hands, humming in content.

He loves it when you held him, however that may be, as it was the one thing he looked forward to the most when coming home.

He’s prone to frequent bouts of fatigue with patrols and the like, but it was moments like these where he could truly appreciate your touch and the healing properties they have on him.

‘I could spend forever here in your hands.’ He’d sigh as he allowed himself to relax within your touch.

‘Oh really? Is that so?’ You raised your brows, watching as the features within his face relaxed into a one that showed you just how exhausted Dick looked. You could see the toll his job his job took but you knew that Dick was too devoted, too attached to what he does to ever give it up, no matter how constantly drained and tired it made him.

You respect his decision to keep doing what he was doing but there came times where you’d just wish he would take a breather from it all, even if it was just for a second, you just wanted to take the weight off of Dick’s shoulders and put it aside for a moment while you work the tension out of his aching muscles.

‘Yeah.’ He responded, feeling himself sink further into sleep. Dick loved what he does but some times he resents it for leaving him with little to no time to spend with you, at least not without him falling asleep five minutes within the interaction. Time with you was sparse and all Dick wanted to do was spend as much of it as he could to make up for the fact that he was barely home at all during the day.

He knew that he prioritised being a hero over your relationship too often and he couldn’t help but feel a tremendous amount of guilt over it during your relationship. You didn’t deserve to wait up for him every night to make sure he was okay, not while developing heavy eye bags of your own and a lack of a sleeping schedule.

He just hopes that one day you too will realise that you better then what he’s giving you and put yourself first, but you were too selfless to ever do that and he could feel that through the way you trace his features with your fingers with featherlight caresses.

Jason stiffens beneath your touch and goes unresponsive for such a long time that you were worried that you had accidentally crossed a boundary.

So just as you were about to remove your hands from his face, Jason quickly reaches out to grasp your hands and pull them back to cupping his cheeks as he then proceeded to nuzzle his cheek against your palm.

‘Stay.’ He whispered. ‘Please.’

Your heart broke at his plea but obeyed as you began to stroke his cheeks with either of your thumbs, feeling him gradually relax under your touch until he was practically a puddle in your hands.

‘I’m sorry.’ He whimpered, burying his face into your hands so that you didn’t see his tear stricken red face. ‘I don’t deserve this. None of it.’ He adds, cursing himself for being so pathetic but your touch practically broke him in the best way.

In your hands Jason felt as though all his broken prices were being put back together again through love, warmth and patience and that was enough to make him breakdown into tears.

Physical affection is a foreign concern to this poor man, and in due to that Jason is naturally going to be skeptical and on edge the moment the pads of your fingertips explore his jawline, before slowly coming up to cup his cheeks. ‘I’m right here Jaybridie.’ You utter softly as you felt his grip on your wrists slack a little. ‘I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere because nowhere is more important than staying here with you. Just take your time.’ And stay with him you did.

Damian is another one who’s not use to soft touches and sweet affection.

So he’ll initially be on guard when he saw you coming his way with your hands outstretched to cup his cheeks, but will huff and reluctantly rest his face in your palms, he’s extremely stiff while doing so and looking away from you out of initial embarrassment.

‘Get on with it.’ He’d mutter, acting as though such acts or moments of tenderness and vulnerability were beneath him, when in actuality Damian loved the feeling of you hold his face as though it were porcelain. He loved the fact that despite knowing his upbringing you still treat him with a love, kindness and warmth that he has never been shown before.

To Damian it was clear that you didn’t care if he was the son of Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul, grandson of Ra’s al Ghul. You only cared about him, Damian Wayne and he could feel that care through your touch as he vowed to cut through anything and everything that intended to harm you.

Your touch brings him a sense of calm, serenity and peace that brought him back from the brink a plethora of times, especially in moments when his arrogance and brashness would resurface. Damian was thankful for you being in his life, a true guiding light in his darkest moments, and he couldn’t think of any possible way to thank you for everything you’ve done for him but he’ll surly try.

Bruce feels the tension behind his eyes and in his jaw sooth themselves under your touch.

His eyes would slowly close as he brought his calloused hands up to gently stroke the inside of your wrists. Bruce needs no words to describe how he felt because he feels as though his expressions and the noises of content made it clear how much he appreciated you being here with him.

‘You look tired.’ You commented, tracing the weary lines on his hard face with your eyes as he observed your face and the way it showed most of your innermost emotions whether you were aware of this fact or not.

Bruce knew that you worry and that you worry a lot about him in particular when it came to whether he was sleeping enough, eating enough and keeping himself safe whilst fighting on the streets of Gotham. Bruce knew he was as stubborn as mule when it came to his life choices and that you were only just worried about him because you cared for him, but sometimes he wished you would redirect all this effort towards yourself because he oftentimes didn’t think he was worth of your worry, nor your care.

Bruce felt as though he should be the one taking care of you rather than you taking care of him. It’s not as though he hates it, it’s just you’ve shown him on countless occasions of your care towards him, and on even more occasions you have shown him of your unwavering dedication towards him. Bruce also feels like he should be the one paying you back for all the hard times where you stood by his side, watching him practically work himself to the bone and almost into a comatose if you didn’t step in and deal him away from the computers.

For you’ve proven time and time again that you weren’t so easily swayed into leaving, and that was made more true when he felt comfortable enough telling you that he was Batman and the dangers that would come with knowing such knowledge. You however only shrugged and told him that by his side, you were the safest you’ve ever been or will ever be.

‘More so than usual?’ He asked in a way that it might as well have came out as an indignant huff.

‘And by more so than usual you mean constantly, then yes, yes you are more tired than usual.’ You replied as you ran your thumbs under his eyes and across his eye bags as if to emphasise your point. Bruce only huffs as he watched you take in all of him with nothing but love and affection in your eyes and your touch.

John would most likely bite your hand out of an inherent need to be a teasing little shit.

Will boast about the fact that you just wanted to touch up his stubble. He wasn’t lying but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that and instead say; ‘in your dreams John.’

‘Oh I’m sure I am in yours.’ He reply with confidence as he winked, causing you to lightly pinch his cheek as punishment for his cockiness. ‘I hate you.’ You’d say as you push your fingertips through his stubbly beard, enjoying the way it deliciously tickles your skin, almost as though they were little prickly kisses.

‘No you don’t sweetheart, try as you might but you and me both know that for definite that you love me.’ John would state in a matter of fact tone. Once again you hated how right he was, but kept your lips sealed shut as not to give him any more ammunition to tease and contradict you at any given opportunity than you’ve already have.

The air between you is playful and light in comparison to how cynical, sharp witted and sarcastic he usually is on a daily basis. It was a welcomed change as you allowed the blonde to pretend to bite your hand, only allowing for his teeth to barely graze your skin before pulling away with a sly smirk as you scratch at his stubble.

[hscherrywine]

Good morning, Pretty Boy

Summary: You and Harry have been seeing each other recently and you wake up in his bed after a long night of fun. You pick up right where you left off with a playful nickname.

warnings: smut, fluff, spiting, pet names, unprotected sex

word count 2.2k

Sometimes you know a day is going to be a good one from the moment you wake up. You know this because today is one of those days. You didn’t wake to an alarm or the rustling of roommates because you didn’t fall asleep in your apartment last night. You fell asleep in the bed of the tattoo littered, gentle, warm, Harry Styles.

Your eyes flutter open and you give your body a stretch. It takes you a moment to remember where you are and when you do you can’t help but have a smile creep up on your face. You take a moment to appreciate waking up for the first time in forever without body aches from your old mattress with no support.

Last night with Harry was a night to remember. The two of you have been seeing each other for a while, but you had a relaxing dinner last night that had Harry wanting “dessert” all night. Thinking about it makes your body tingle.

He had one hand slipped under your body and the other wrapped gently over the top of your body. His hands joined together at your waist and your legs curled towards your chest. Your back was pressed against his chest keeping you warm. Sometime while you were sleeping he buried his head between your neck and shoulder and you could hear his deep breathing.

You imagine how peaceful he is asleep since your back is towards him and you can’t see for yourself. As much as you don’t want to wake him, you also want to thank him again for last night. After a few seconds you slowly roll over, still in his embrace. Your open eyes are in line with his shut eyes. Some curls hang into his forehead as his chest slowly rises and falls.

Since he’s still asleep, you reach a hand out from his grasp and push some hair out of his way.

“What are you dreaming about pretty boy?” you wonder aloud not worried about if he’ll hear you or not. You’re just too enamored in his relaxing slumber.

His eyes flutter open because of the sudden physical touch. “Did you just call me pretty boy? He asks with a smirk. His morning voice was something you could used to.

“So what if I did pretty boy?” You taunt. Harry seems much more awake now than he did just a few moments ago because of your teasing.

What’s so pretty about me baby?” He questions while twirling some of your hair between his long fingers.

“Your puffy morning eyes are pretty, your lips that are pink from biting them in your sleep are pretty, and the dimple that appears every time i call you pretty is pretty.” you admit to him drawing your faces closer. You rub your hands up and down his arms as he takes in your words.

“If i’m pretty then there’s no words to describe you, baby” He compliments. He chews on his bottom lip for a second, just taking in the features of your face this morning and then plants a kiss on your soft lips. The first of what he hopes to be many kisses.

What would have been an extremely sweet moment made you squirm away from his grasp.

“Harryyyy” you whine shielding your face from his “I didn’t brush my teeth yet.”

“Babe your morning breath is not that bad.” He admits trying to cheer you up.

“So I do having morning breath?” you exclaim even more embarrassed.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He adds pulling your body closer to his. Your one leg now finding itself on top of his two. Your crotch dangerously close to his.

“If it matters that much…I’ll just kiss you everywhere else.” He suggests running his hands through your hair and bringing you as close to him as he can. He begins to pepper kisses from your forehead to your cheeks to all over your face purposely excluding your lips.

“Everywhere?” You question getting lost in his acts of affection.

“Everywhere.” He assures bringing his moist lips down to your throat. His hands move from your head down your shoulders, and back up inside of your shirt. Well his shirt that you wore to bed last night.

Your head rolls back in pleasure when his hands reach your chest. The two of you are extremely grateful you don’t wear a bra to bed. He spends more time on your right shoulder biting and licking the skin sure to leave a mark. When he’s done he pulls back and gives your boobs some attention. With a glimmer of mischief in his eye he releases his hands and goes back to the hem of the shirt. You nod and he takes it as a signal to take the material off over your head.

He then removes his own shirt revealing his body to you once again. That is a view you never tire of.

“Like I said…pretty boy.” you murmer taking his muscular figure in. Now that the two of of you know where this morning is going, he takes the opportunity to lay you on your back and straddle your waist.

“Would a pretty boy do this? He taunts and drips a trial of saliva from his mouth to your tits.

“Considering the fact that you just did, I think he would.” You remark. Some comeback won’t get him riled up enough so you push your breasts together and watch his spit move over the mounds.

“I’m never going to live this nickname down, am I? he questions shaking his head.

“You can try but I won’t plan on it” You reply sitting yourself up on your forearms. He’s barely done anything to you but you’re so eager for his mouth anywhere on your body.

“We’ll see about that.” He counters before leaning down and swirling his tongue over your desperate nipples. You can only moan in shock. You were somehow still sensitive from the multiple rounds you and Harry had last night.

After Harry had enough of sucking and kissing one breast, he moved to the other. The sensation is equally as good if not better.

“More…please,” you breath out and it only encouraged Harry to take his time. He started to move his warm kisses down your sternum and stomach. Right when you wanted him to take off your plush pajama shorts, he didn’t. At least not immediately. He moved his body down your body and sat back on his heels taking in the sight of you.

His hands grip your ankles, moving them back so the soles of your feet are planted to the bed, putting in arch in your previously straight leg line. He rubs his hands up and down your smooth legs for a while and kisses right under the hem of your shorts. When he finally couldn’t take not seeing all of you, he shimmied the shorts off your legs.

With a new layer uncovered, he was even hungrier for your core, but he couldn’t indulge just yet. Wetness was practically seeping through the thin layer, but he couldn’t give himself away just yet. He inched his head closer until there was a mere inch between the two. He inhaled your scent deeply and began pressing slowing open mouthed kisses against your clothed area.

“Who knew pretty boys could be such teases?” you mustered up. You always loved how eager Harry was to eat you out. He never shies away from it and you can tell it’s a part of foreplay he enjoys, even if a lot of other guys try to avoid it.

He doesn’t respond but his actions get heavier. The kisses are more intense at your core and he drags his sharp tongue up and down your covered folds. At this point the entire material is soaked through with his spot and your arousal.

He takes the last barrier off and finally prepares to give you what you were waiting for. Your folds glisten and he licks his lips in anticipation. Before you know it, he’s spreading open your labia to get a better look at your throbbing cunt. Your clit is so swollen that he takes no time bringing his mouth to suck on it gently. Slow at first but as he picks up speed the pleasure becomes unbearable.

You grab ahold of his hair trying to bring him closer, but he does the opposite. He detaches from your clit to give the rest of your pussy some attention. He slides one finger up and down your folds and then into your cunt and he thrusts the one digit in and out repeatedly, in awe of how well you take just one finger.

Soon enough he’s adding a finger and they begin to curl and reach your G-spot. All you can do in response is call out his name.

“Go on baby, let everyone know how this pretty boy makes you feel.” He taunts increasing his speed. As his movements quicken the sounds of your wetness get stronger.

“God Harry-“ you groan “I think i’m gonna c-cum.” and with that he pulls his fingers away as fast as he can.

“Sorry babe but your first orgasm this morning is going to be around my cock” he reprimands before sitting up. He draws his soaked digits up to your mouth.

“Suck.” He demands while taking off his pants with the other free hand. You swirl your tongue all over his fingers, maybe even giving them a graze with your teeth. Harry imagines it’s being his cock and he constricts in this underwater. That has to go so he decides and removes it as well. His penis was now free from any material barrier as well.

When you get a little too bold, Harry keeps you on your toes, “Up.” he demands “On all fours, face the headboard.” He reaches into the nightstand for a condom while you shuffle to a new position.

Not being able to look into his eyes from here makes everything more intense, it’s like you don’t know his next move. You can feel it though. Harry is quick to slide his cock into your sopping hole. He’s had less attention than you this morning and was desperate for some satisfaction. He pushes the head in and out slowly to stretch you out. Once he develops a rhythm, one hand grips your waist to keep you stable. From here he can inch more of himself in. The other hand goes to your head and gathers some hair. He yanks it back so your head is arched towards him.

This angle is making him primal. Your cheeks are flushed and there’s marks in your bottom lip from where you were biting to suppress whimpers. With no warning he snaps all the way in. He figured you’d adjust quickly since it’s been mere hours from the last time he was inside you. Plus, this morning's activities riled you up almost as much as him.

You could feel every inch of him inside of you. It was a sensation you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to. He moved on leg up to get a deeper angle and simultaneously pulled your head back even further.

“Open.” He barked with his jaw clenching in pleasure. You immediately obeyed as he dripped his saliva into your mouth. He just wanted to be closer to you in any way possible. He also wanted to share the sweet taste of you from before.

“Swallow.” He added removing the hand that was on your hip to your throat so he could feel you swallow. This put you over the edge combined with the teasing.

It only took a few more thrusts before you were dizzying. “Harry d-don’t stop” you begged but he wasn’t planning on stopping any time soon.

He felts your walls clenching and your legs wanting to close tighter around him, but he kept them spread.

“I can’t last much longer” you confessed almost breathless.

“Then let go.” he encouraged. So you did. You came around his cock on all fours with your head giving up and falling into the pillows.

He brought both hands to your ass this time giving it some attention and thrusting into your spawning pussy a few more times before releasing himself into the condom.

When the two of you finally came down, you rolled over with a grin on your face. Harry collapsed next to you, his body glistening in sweat after the passion.

The two of you faced each other again and your eyes met. You just enjoyed each other's presence for a while, Harry tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Thanks for the orgasm, pretty boy.” you murmur.

“Anytime pretty girl, he responded. His eyes are glazed over from sex but he still offers to make you ‘the best breakfast ever’

[pucksandpower]

Bite Me

Day 25 → Monsterfucking 💋 Carlos Sainz

Warnings: 18+ content, vampires, and dubious consent

Kinktober Masterlist

Carlos lies beside you, the weight of his arm draped over your waist, fingers tracing absent-minded circles on your skin. The room is dim, with only the pale moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting silver shadows on the walls. You shift slightly, turning your head to meet his gaze — those dark, unfathomable eyes that hold centuries of secrets.

He catches your movement, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You’re restless,” he murmurs, his voice deep, rich like aged wine. “What’s on your mind, mi amor?”

You hesitate, the words forming but refusing to leave your lips. His eyes search yours, and you can feel him pulling the thoughts from your mind without effort.

You’ve always wondered about it — how he knows you so well, how he can sense the shift in your emotions before you even understand them yourself. It’s not just the years you’ve spent together. It’s him, something innate, something ancient.

“Why haven’t you ever bitten me?” You ask, the question finally slipping out, almost a whisper.

Carlos’ fingers still on your skin. His gaze hardens, though his hold on you remains tender. “Why do you ask this now?”

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant, though your heart betrays you, thudding loudly in your chest. “I’ve just … I’ve been thinking. You’ve told me about what you are, how you became this way, but you’ve never-” You swallow, feeling suddenly exposed under his scrutiny. “You’ve never fed from me.”

He sighs, the sound heavy with a burden only he seems to carry. “It’s not something I take lightly.”

“I know that,” you say quickly. “But … don’t you want to?”

Carlos shifts, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look down at you, his expression unreadable. “Want to? Amor, of course I want to. There is nothing I want more than to taste you, to have you be a part of me in the most intimate way possible.”

You shiver, both at his words and the way his gaze darkens, almost as if he’s imagining it now. His thumb brushes your lips, his eyes following the movement as if he’s mesmerized.

“But I won’t do it,” he adds, pulling his hand back as if burned by the thought. “I refuse.”

“Why?”

Carlos’ jaw tightens, his gaze flickering to the window, to the world outside. “Because you don’t understand what it means, what it does. It’s not just a bite, cariño. It’s a claim. A bond. It’s forever. I won’t risk your soul for something so … selfish.”

“Selfish?” You frown, pushing yourself up to mirror him. “Carlos, you’re not selfish. You’ve never asked me for anything. Not even this. But what if I want to?”

His eyes snap back to yours, sharp and intense. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Then tell me. Help me understand.”

Carlos leans back against the headboard, running a hand through his dark hair. The movement is so human, so vulnerable, that it makes your heart ache. “It’s hard to explain. It’s not like in the stories. The bite — it’s pleasure, yes, but it’s also pain. It changes you. It connects us in ways you can’t undo. If I bite you … you’ll be bound to me. Forever. There’s no turning back from that.”

“And what if I want that?” You ask softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “What if I want forever with you?”

His eyes close, a pained expression crossing his features. “You deserve more than this life, this half-existence. You deserve to live, to grow old, to have children if you want them. You deserve a future that I can never give you.”

“I want you,” you say, voice firm. “I’ve always wanted you. You’re my future, Carlos. You know that.”

He shakes his head, a bitter smile on his lips. “I’m not worth that sacrifice.”

“Let me decide that,” you counter. “You always talk about protecting me, about giving me a choice. Well, I’m choosing now. I choose you. I want all of you, not just the parts you think are safe.”

Carlos’ gaze softens, the conflict in his eyes evident. He reaches out, cupping your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he repeats, but this time, there’s a crack in his voice, a tremor that betrays his resolve.

“Then show me,” you challenge, leaning into his touch. “Show me what it means. I’m not afraid.”

“You should be.”

“Maybe. But I’m not.”

For a long moment, the room is silent, the tension between you a palpable thing. Carlos’ breath is shallow, his grip on you tightening, as if he’s trying to anchor himself, to resist the pull of his own desires.

“I’ve lived so long,” he finally says, voice barely above a whisper. “Seen so much. I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved. I couldn’t bear to lose you too.”

“Then don’t,” you whisper back. “Don’t lose me. Keep me. Isn’t that what you want?”

He doesn’t answer, his eyes darkening, the conflict in them warring with the longing you can see. It’s so close, the tension between you a hair’s breadth from snapping. His breath mingles with yours, his lips hovering just above your skin, his eyes locked on yours.

“Carlos,” you breathe, and it’s both a plea and a surrender.

His hands tighten on your face, and for a moment, you think he’s going to do it, that he’s going to give in to the primal urge you can feel radiating from him. But then, with a low growl, he pulls away, rolling onto his back, covering his eyes with his arm as if the darkness might swallow the desire coursing through him.

“I can’t,” he mutters, the words thick with regret. “I won’t do that to you.”

The rejection stings, even though you understand his reasoning. But it doesn’t lessen the ache in your chest, the longing you feel. You roll onto your side, facing him, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart — an oddity in itself, a reminder that he’s not like you, that there’s a gulf between you no matter how close you are.

“Carlos,” you say softly, tracing patterns over his skin, “if you won’t do it, then tell me why. What are you really afraid of?”

His arm falls away from his eyes, and he turns his head to look at you, his expression weary. “I’m afraid of losing you. Of what that bite would do to us.”

“Then let me reassure you. I’m not going anywhere.”

He lets out a hollow laugh, the sound bitter. “You say that now, but you don’t understand. You wouldn’t be the same after. You might hate me for it. And I couldn’t live with that.”

“I could never hate you,” you insist, moving closer, so your body is pressed against his, your warmth bleeding into him. “I love you, Carlos. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He looks at you, his eyes softer now, full of a tenderness that melts some of the hardness inside you. “You say that now. But forever is a long time, amor.”

“Not long enough,” you counter, brushing your lips against his, a gentle reassurance. “Not for us.”

Carlos’ fingers trail down your spine, slow and deliberate, making you shiver. “You’re too good for me.”

“Or maybe you’re too good for me.”

He laughs softly, but it’s a sad sound, full of longing. “I don’t deserve you. Not your love, not your devotion. But I’m a selfish man, and I can’t let you go.”

“Then don’t.”

He looks at you, and you see the decision forming in his eyes, the resignation mixed with desire. “If I do this, it’s forever. You’ll be mine, completely, in ways you can’t even imagine.”

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in. “I know. And I’m ready.”

Carlos closes his eyes, inhaling deeply as if trying to steady himself. When he opens them again, they’re darker, the brown nearly black. He leans in, his lips brushing against your neck, sending a thrill down your spine.

“Do you really want this?” He asks one last time, his breath hot against your skin, his fangs barely grazing the surface.

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice trembling with anticipation. “Yes, Carlos. I want this. I want you.”

His grip tightens, and for a split second, you feel the sharp points of his fangs press against your skin, poised to break through. The world narrows down to this moment, the sound of his breath, the feel of his body against yours, the anticipation so thick you can barely breathe.

But then, just as quickly as the moment comes, it passes. Carlos pulls away with a low growl, rolling off the bed and standing, putting distance between you. “No. I won’t.”

You sit up, confused, hurt. “Carlos-”

He holds up a hand, his back to you. “No. I can’t do this. I can’t condemn you to my life, to this existence. I love you too much to do that.”

You stare at his back, anger and hurt knotting in your chest. The distance he’s put between you feels like a chasm, like something that might never be crossed again. But you refuse to let it end here, to let him make this decision without understanding how much it means to you.

“Carlos, turn around,” you demand, your voice trembling, but resolute.

He doesn’t move. His shoulders are tense, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. It’s like he’s fighting a battle within himself, one you can’t see, but can feel in the air, thick with unspoken words and untapped emotions.

“Please,” you plead, softer now, trying to reach him. “Look at me.”

Finally, he turns, but the expression on his face is one of torment. His dark eyes are haunted, filled with a deep sorrow that makes your heart ache even more.

“You don’t understand what you’re asking,” he says, his voice rough, as if every word is a struggle. “This isn’t just a moment of passion, amor. This is your life we’re talking about. Your soul.”

“I do understand,” you insist, pushing yourself off the bed and taking a tentative step toward him. “I’ve thought about this, Carlos. I’ve thought about it so much. And I’ve made my decision. I want this. I want you. All of you.”

He shakes his head, backing away from you, the pain in his eyes cutting deep. “And what happens when you regret it? When you realize that you’ve given up everything — your humanity, your future — for someone like me?”

“I won’t regret it,” you argue, closing the distance between you. “I love you. I want to be with you. I want to share everything with you, including this.”

Carlos’ jaw tightens, and he turns his head away, as if he can’t bear to look at you. “You’re asking me to damn you, to bind you to a life that isn’t really living.”

“Maybe that’s what you believe,” you say, reaching out to touch his arm, the warmth of your skin meeting the coolness of his. “But that’s not how I see it. To me, this is living. Being with you is living.”

His eyes snap back to yours, and there’s a flash of something — desperation, need, fear. “You’re asking me to do something I can’t undo. Once I bite you, once I take your blood … there’s no going back.”

“I know,” you whisper, your fingers trailing down his arm, finding his hand and squeezing it. “And I’m okay with that. I’m ready.”

Carlos’ hand trembles in yours, and you can feel the tension in him, the way he’s holding back, the way he’s trying so hard to protect you — even from yourself.

“Please, Carlos,” you beg, your voice breaking. “Please. Don’t push me away. Don’t make this decision for me.”

He inhales sharply, as if your words have struck him, and for a moment, you think he’s going to deny you again. But then his grip tightens on your hand, and he pulls you against him, his arms wrapping around you in a fierce, possessive embrace.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “But if this is what you truly want … if this is what you need … then I’ll give it to you.”

Your heart skips a beat, relief flooding through you. “It is. It’s what I want. More than anything.”

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression a mix of longing and torment. “There are so many places I could bite you,” he says, his voice low and husky, each word laced with desire. “So many ways I could claim you.”

Your breath hitches as his hand trails up your arm, his fingers ghosting over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “Show me,” you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Carlos’ eyes darken, and he leans in, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck, right where your pulse beats furiously beneath the surface. “Here,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “The neck is traditional. It’s intimate, close to the heart. But it’s also dangerous. One mistake, and …”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but you know what he means. The neck is risky, the blood vessels close to the surface, the possibility of draining too much, too fast, always a threat.

“But there are other places,” he continues, his lips moving down to your collarbone, kissing the hollow there. “The collarbone is sensitive, a place where the skin is thin, the blood rich. It’s �� pleasurable.”

Your fingers curl into his shirt, your body trembling as he moves lower, his mouth trailing down your arm, stopping at the inside of your elbow. “Here, the veins are close to the surface. It’s a slower process, more drawn out. Some say it’s the most intimate because it’s less about hunger and more about connection.”

His lips graze the inside of your wrist, and you shiver, the sensation almost too much. “The wrist is quick, efficient. It’s what we use when we’re in need, when we’re desperate.”

You’re barely breathing now, your pulse pounding in your ears as he moves lower, down your body, dropping to his knees before you. His hands glide over your thighs, pushing up the fabric of your nightgown, exposing your skin inch by inch.

“But there’s one place,” he says, his voice a deep rumble, vibrating through you, “that’s the most pleasurable of all. The femoral artery.”

You gasp as his hands part your thighs, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin there, his mouth hovering just above the spot he’s describing. “It’s deep, powerful, connected to the core of you. The blood is richest here. It’s where the pleasure is … overwhelming.”

Carlos’ words send a shiver down your spine, a mixture of fear and desire coiling in your stomach. He looks up at you, his eyes dark and intense, waiting for your response.

You nod, your voice catching in your throat. “Yes. Yes, Carlos. Please.”

His eyes darken further, a predatory glint flashing in them as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, right where the femoral artery pulses beneath the skin. “Are you sure, amor? Once I do this, there’s no going back.”

“I’m sure,” you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation and desire. “I want this. I want you.”

Carlos closes his eyes for a moment, as if steeling himself, before looking up at you again, his gaze locking with yours. “Then lie back, mi amor. Let me show you what it means to truly be mine.”

Your heart races as you do as he says, lying back on the bed, your legs parted just enough for him to kneel between them. He moves with a grace that belies the intensity in his eyes, the hunger that you can feel rolling off him in waves.

He leans over you, his hands bracing on either side of your hips, his body caging yours in. You feel his breath against your skin, the warmth of it contrasting with the coolness of his touch. His lips ghost over your thigh, making you shiver, the anticipation almost unbearable.

“Last chance to change your mind,” he murmurs, his voice thick with need, but also with concern.

“I won’t change my mind,” you assure him, your voice steady, despite the wild beating of your heart. “I trust you, Carlos. I want this.”

He nods, his gaze holding yours for a long moment, before he lowers his head, his lips brushing over the spot on your thigh where the artery pulses. You can feel the tension in him, the way he’s holding back, even now, trying to control the hunger that you know is clawing at him from the inside.

And then, with a soft growl, he gives in. His fangs sink into your flesh, piercing the artery, and a shock of pain lances through you, sharp and sudden. But it’s quickly followed by something else — something warm and deep, a pleasure so intense it takes your breath away.

You gasp, your back arching off the bed as the sensation floods through you. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, a mix of pain and pleasure that’s almost overwhelming. You can feel him drawing from you, the pull of your blood as it flows into him, as if he’s taking a part of you into himself, claiming you in a way that’s both physical and spiritual.

Carlos’ grip on your thighs tightens, his body pressing closer to yours as he drinks, the growl in his throat deepening, vibrating through your skin. The connection between you sharpens, the bond forming in that moment, and you can feel him — his emotions, his thoughts, the depth of his love for you, the hunger that’s been denied for so long.

It’s too much, and yet not enough. You want more, need more, the sensation building to a crescendo inside you, threatening to drown you in its intensity. You can’t hold back the cry that escapes your lips, a sound of both pain and pleasure, as Carlos drinks deeply, the bond between you solidifying, becoming something unbreakable, eternal.

And just when you think you can’t take any more, when the pleasure is about to tip into something else, something darker, Carlos pulls back, his fangs sliding from your flesh.

Your body trembles beneath him, every nerve on fire as the sensation of his bite fades, replaced by a different kind of need — one that is more intense, more primal. Carlos’ lips linger on your thigh, his breath hot against your skin as he laps at the small puncture wounds, each touch sending sparks through you. The pain has morphed into pleasure, a deep, pulsing ache that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

Slowly, Carlos begins to kiss his way up your leg, his mouth tracing a path of heat along your skin. Each kiss is deliberate, a promise of what’s to come, and you can feel the tension building in your core, tightening with every brush of his lips.

When he reaches the apex of your thighs, he pauses, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. His eyes are dark, filled with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine. “I’ve never tasted anything sweeter,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “You’re everything, mi amor. Everything.”

The words send a rush of warmth through you, and you gasp as he presses his mouth against the bundle of nerves that’s already so sensitive, so primed. His tongue flicks over it, teasing, tasting, before he sinks his fang into the delicate skin with a precision that leaves you gasping, your body arching into him as the sharp pain gives way to an overwhelming flood of pleasure.

It’s too much, too intense, and you feel yourself tipping over the edge, a cry tearing from your lips as the pleasure crests, crashing over you like a wave. Carlos doesn’t stop, his tongue lapping at the release, drawing out every last ounce of your pleasure, until you’re trembling, boneless beneath him.

As the aftershocks of your release fade, you’re left panting, your heart racing in your chest. Carlos pulls back, his eyes heavy-lidded, his lips glistening with the remnants of your release. There’s a reverence in the way he looks at you, a kind of awe that makes your heart squeeze.

“I could never have imagined …” His voice is husky, almost reverent as he speaks. “You’re perfect, mi amor. I’ve never tasted anything so sweet, so pure.”

You’re still trying to catch your breath, your mind spinning from the intensity of what just happened. But even through the haze, you can sense the change in him — the way he’s looking at you, the way his touch is more possessive, more reverent.

He sits up slightly, one hand still resting on your thigh, his thumb brushing over the marks he’s left on your skin. His other hand rises to his mouth, and you watch, mesmerized, as he bites into his own wrist, his fangs piercing the skin with ease.

The sight is strangely beautiful, the dark blood welling up from the wound, and your breath catches as he holds his wrist out to you, the offer unspoken but clear.

“If you take this,” Carlos says, his voice low and serious, “there’s no going back. Our connection will be permanent, unbreakable. It will be something that words can’t describe, something that transcends everything.”

You stare at his wrist, your mind racing. You’ve come this far, crossed lines you never thought you would. But this — this is different. This is forever. It’s not just about desire or love; it’s about binding your soul to his, about becoming something more than human.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you look up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt. But there’s nothing there but certainty, a deep, unwavering conviction that this is right, that this is what he wants — what he needs.

“Carlos,” you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. “Are you sure?”

His gaze softens, and he leans down, brushing his lips over yours in a tender, lingering kiss. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, mi amor. You are everything to me. Without you, there’s nothing. With you … there’s everything.”

His words wrap around your heart, and you know, deep down, that this is what you want too. You’ve always known. There’s no turning back now, no second-guessing. This is the moment where everything changes, where you choose him — forever.

You reach up, your hand trembling slightly as you take hold of his wrist, your fingers brushing over the wound. The blood is warm, almost hot against your skin, and as you bring his wrist to your lips, you can feel the connection between you deepening, solidifying.

Carlos watches you, his gaze intense, as you press your lips to his wrist, the taste of his blood filling your mouth. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced — a mix of power and warmth, a connection that thrums through your veins, setting every nerve alight.

As you drink, you can feel the bond forming, something deeper than love, more primal, more eternal. It’s as if your souls are intertwining, becoming one, and you know that this is forever — that no matter what happens, you’ll never be alone again.

When you finally pull back, you’re breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. Carlos leans down, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours as you both come to terms with what you’ve just done.

“We’re bound now,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and reverence. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Forever.”

The weight of his words settles over you, but instead of fear or doubt, all you feel is a deep sense of rightness, of belonging. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you whisper, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

He turns his head slightly, pressing a kiss to your palm, his eyes never leaving yours. “Te amo,” he says, the words filled with a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. “More than I ever thought possible.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you pull him down into a kiss, needing to feel him close, needing to solidify the bond you’ve just created. He responds immediately, his lips moving against yours with a passion that leaves you dizzy, your body arching into his as the connection between you flares, burning bright and hot.

The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you, bound together in a way that transcends everything else. It’s more than love, more than desire — it’s a union of souls, something that goes beyond the physical, something that words can’t fully capture.

As you lose yourself in the kiss, in the feel of him against you, inside you, you know that this is where you’re meant to be. That no matter what comes next, no matter what challenges you face, you’ll always have Carlos by your side.

And that, more than anything, is what makes this moment perfect.

***

The days blur into weeks, then months, each moment with Carlos etching itself into your very being. The bond between you deepens, growing more intense, more consuming with each passing night. It’s as if every fiber of your existence has been rewired, attuned to him and the pleasure he brings — a pleasure that has become intrinsically linked to his bite.

It happens gradually, almost imperceptibly at first. The way your body responds to him shifts, your desires sharpening, focusing on the exquisite pain-pleasure of his fangs sinking into your flesh. It’s as though you’ve been conditioned, your body trained to crave that sensation, to need it in a way that feels as vital as breathing.

Carlos notices it too. He’s always been attuned to your every reaction, but now there’s a deliberateness to his touch, a calculated precision in the way he teases you, pushes you right to the brink and then holds you there, on the edge of that abyss, until you’re practically begging for his bite.

And you do beg. You plead with him, your voice breathless, desperate, as you arch against him, needing that release only he can give. It’s a need that runs deeper than anything you’ve ever felt, a craving that consumes you whole.

Carlos indulges you, but there’s a darkness in his eyes when he does, a look of concern that lingers even as he gives you what you so desperately desire. It’s as if he knows the power he holds over you, the way he’s shaping you, molding you into something that’s more his than your own.

And yet, even with that knowledge, he can’t resist you. He’s as much a slave to your connection as you are, caught in the web you’ve spun together, tangled in the threads of desire and love that bind you.

One night, as you lie together in the dark, the world outside forgotten, Carlos’ hand drifts down your body, his touch feather-light, tracing patterns on your skin. The tension is already coiling in your belly, your body responding to him instinctively, anticipating what’s to come.

“Carlos,” you whisper, your voice a plea as you tilt your head to the side, offering him your throat. It’s become almost ritualistic now, this dance you do together — the way you give yourself to him, the way he takes.

He hesitates for a moment, his fingers brushing over the marks on your neck, the ones that have healed over but are still faintly visible, a reminder of the many times he’s bitten you there. “Are you sure?” He asks, his voice low, tinged with that same concern that’s been growing more frequent lately.

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “Please, Carlos. I need it. I need you.”

The words are raw, stripped of any pretense, and you see the way they affect him, the way his gaze darkens with a mix of desire and something deeper, something that borders on regret.

But he doesn’t deny you. He never does.

His lips ghost over your skin, soft and teasing, before he bites down, his fangs sinking into the tender flesh of your throat. The pain is sharp, but it’s immediately followed by that rush of pleasure, that intoxicating mix of agony and ecstasy that only he can bring you.

Your body arches into him, your breath catching in your throat as you cling to him, needing to anchor yourself against the wave of sensation that crashes over you. Carlos’ hand slips between your legs, his fingers finding that bundle of nerves that’s become so sensitive, so primed for him, and you cry out as he rubs slow, deliberate circles there, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

But it’s not enough. It’s never enough without his bite, without that sharp, exquisite pain that sends you spiraling into oblivion. And Carlos knows this — he knows you too well by now, knows exactly what you need, what you crave.

He pulls back from your throat, his lips stained with your blood, and you whimper at the loss, at the way your body tightens with unfulfilled need. But then he’s shifting, moving down your body, his mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, each one a promise, a prelude to what’s coming.

When he reaches that spot between your legs, he doesn’t hesitate. He presses his mouth against you, his tongue flicking over your clit with a precision that has you gasping, your hips bucking against him as the pleasure builds, sharp and intense.

And then you feel it — the sharp sting of his fang as it nicks that delicate skin, a jolt of pain that sends you careening over the edge, your release crashing over you like a tidal wave, so powerful it leaves you breathless, trembling beneath him.

Carlos doesn’t stop. He laps at your release, his tongue gentle now, soothing, as if he’s trying to ease you down from that high. But there’s a hunger in the way he moves, a desperation that mirrors your own, as if he’s just as consumed by this need as you are.

When he finally pulls back, his gaze is intense, filled with a mix of satisfaction and something darker, something that sends a shiver down your spine. He’s still kneeling between your legs, his hands resting on your thighs, holding you in place as if he’s afraid you might slip away.

You’re still catching your breath, your mind spinning from the intensity of your release, when you see him bite into his wrist again, the motion almost automatic now, a part of your shared ritual.

But this time, something inside you shifts. As he brings his wrist to your lips, the words spill out before you can stop them, a plea that’s been building inside you for weeks, maybe even longer.

“Carlos … turn me.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning, and you see the way they affect him, the way his entire body goes still, his gaze locking onto yours with a look of shock, of fear.

“Don’t say that,” he whispers, his voice harsh, almost pleading. “Don’t ask me for that.”

You shake your head, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m serious, Carlos. I want this. I want to be with you, forever.”

His grip on your thighs tightens, and you can see the battle warring within him, the conflict between his desire and his fear. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says, his voice raw with emotion. “You don’t know what it means to live like this, to be bound by this curse.”

“I don’t care,” you say, your voice firm, resolute. “I want you, Carlos. I want everything that comes with you. I’m not afraid.”

He closes his eyes, his jaw clenching as he struggles to maintain control. “You should be afraid,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You should be terrified.”

“But I’m not,” you insist, reaching up to cup his face, forcing him to look at you. “I trust you, Carlos. I know you’ll take care of me. I know you’ll never let me become a monster.”

His eyes search yours, and you can see the pain there, the agony of knowing that you’re asking him to do something that goes against everything he’s ever wanted for you. But you also see the love, the overwhelming depth of it, and you know that he won’t be able to deny you — not when it comes to this.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice breaking with emotion. “I need this, Carlos. I need you. Please, turn me.”

For a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. But then, slowly, he nods, his expression one of resignation, of acceptance. “Okay,” he says, his voice hollow. “Okay.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, a gesture that’s both tender and heartbreaking. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “I’ll love you forever.”

You close your eyes, letting his words wash over you, grounding yourself in the knowledge that this is right, that this is what you both want, what you both need.

And then you feel it — the sharp, burning pain as his fangs sink into your neck, deeper this time, more final. The pain is excruciating, a fire that spreads through your veins, consuming you from the inside out. But even through the agony, you can feel the love, the connection, the bond that’s deepening with every drop of blood he takes.

Your vision begins to blur, the edges darkening as the life slowly drains from you. But there’s no fear, no regret — only a deep, abiding love, a certainty that this is where you’re meant to be, where you’ve always belonged.

As the darkness closes in, you hear Carlos’ voice, soft and broken, the last thing you hold onto as everything fades to black. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice filled with a sorrow so profound it cuts through the haze, piercing your heart even as it stops beating.

And then there’s nothing.

***

The transition from mortal to vampire is startlingly smooth, almost effortless. Carlos had warned you — countless times — about the challenges, the inevitable struggles that come with your new existence. But those struggles never seem to materialize. Instead, you find yourself reveling in your newfound abilities, your senses heightened, your strength amplified. The world feels different, richer, as if you’ve been given the key to unlock its deepest secrets.

You’ve always been adaptable, but this … this is something else entirely. The hunger that gnawed at you in the first few days is now a familiar, almost comforting presence, easily sated with each hunt. The speed and agility that come so naturally to you feel like an extension of your own will, as if you were always meant to move this way, to live this way.

Carlos watches you closely, his concern never far from the surface, but even he can’t deny how easily you’ve taken to this new life. He’d expected turmoil, conflict — a struggle to reconcile your old self with the creature you’ve become. But instead, he sees you thrive, sees the joy in your eyes each time you embrace your abilities.

What he doesn’t see — what even you hadn’t expected — is how much you enjoy the power dynamics between the two of you. The bond between a maker and their progeny is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, a connection so deep, so intimate, it’s almost overwhelming. And with it comes a power that Carlos wields with an authority that both excites and unnerves you.

It’s not something you would have predicted. You’ve always been independent, headstrong, not one to easily submit to anyone’s will. But with Carlos, it’s different. There’s something intoxicating about the way he commands you, the way his voice slips into your mind, into your very soul, compelling you to obey.

You didn’t think you’d enjoy it. But you do. More than you’d care to admit.

Tonight, the tension between you simmers, a palpable energy that crackles in the air as you move through the shadows together. You’d pushed your limits earlier, testing the boundaries of your new life, staying out far later than you should have, pushing Carlos’ patience to its edge.

Now, as the first light of dawn threatens the horizon, you can feel his disapproval like a weight, a dark cloud hanging over you as you step inside. The door closes behind you with a soft click, the sound far too final, too ominous for your liking.

“Where were you?” His voice is low, controlled, but there’s an edge to it, a hint of the anger he’s trying so hard to keep in check.

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant as you brush past him, heading for the stairs. “Just hunting,” you say, your tone light, almost flippant. “I lost track of time.”

Carlos is on you in an instant, his hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling you to a stop. “Hunting?” He repeats, his eyes narrowing as he studies you, his gaze piercing. “You nearly got caught by the sunrise. Do you have any idea what could have happened?”

You can’t help the small pout that forms on your lips as you turn to face him, your eyes wide, innocent. “I was fine, Carlos. I can take care of myself.”

But he doesn’t let go, his grip firm, unyielding. “That’s not the point, and you know it,” he says, his voice a low growl. “You were reckless. You put yourself at risk. And you made me worry.”

The guilt that flickers in your chest is quickly overshadowed by the thrill of his dominance, the way he’s looking at you now — like he could devour you whole, like he might just do it to prove a point.

You press your lips together, trying to suppress the smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” you say, softening your tone, but there’s still a hint of defiance there, a challenge in the way you look at him.

Carlos’ eyes darken, and you know you’ve pushed him too far. “You need to understand something,” he says, his voice dropping even lower, each word a slow, deliberate threat. “I am your maker. When I tell you to be careful, you will listen. When I tell you to come home, you will come home. And when I command you to obey, you will obey.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, not out of fear, but out of something far more primal. The power he holds over you is intoxicating, and you feel it wrap around you like a vice, squeezing, tightening until you can barely breathe.

“Yes, Carlos,” you say, your voice a breathless whisper, your defiance crumbling beneath the weight of his command.

His gaze locks onto yours, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you, the air between you charged with electricity. Then he releases your wrist, but the hold he has on you is far from gone. He steps closer, his body crowding yours, and you find yourself backing up until your back hits the wall, trapping you in place.

“You think this is a game,” he says, his voice soft now, almost tender, but there’s a warning there, a promise of what’s to come. “But it’s not. You need to learn, querida.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You like to push me, don’t you?” He murmurs, his voice a dark, velvet caress. “You like to see how far you can go before I snap.”

A shudder runs through you, and you tilt your head slightly, giving him more access, more control. “Maybe,” you admit, your voice barely audible.

He chuckles softly, a sound that’s as dangerous as it is seductive. “Then I suppose I’ll have to show you exactly what happens when you push me too far.”

Before you can react, he’s on you, his mouth crashing down on yours with a force that steals your breath, a kiss that’s more punishment than pleasure. But you crave it, need it, and you kiss him back with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

He doesn’t let up, his lips demanding, his tongue claiming you, dominating you with a skill that leaves you dizzy, disoriented. When he finally pulls back, you’re panting, your heart racing, and you can see the satisfaction in his eyes, the way he’s already won this game you’ve been playing.

But Carlos isn’t done. His hand trails down your body, leaving a path of fire in its wake, until he’s gripping your thigh, pulling your leg up around his waist. “You’re mine,” he says, his voice rough with possessiveness. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

The words send a jolt of heat through you, and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips as he presses his body against yours, trapping you between him and the wall. You can feel his strength, the raw power that he so rarely unleashes on you, and it makes you tremble with anticipation.

“I’m going to punish you,” Carlos whispers, his lips brushing against your neck, right over the spot where he first bit you, marking you as his forever. “But you’re going to love every second of it.”

You swallow hard, the weight of his promise settling over you like a heavy, suffocating blanket. “Carlos …” you begin, but your words trail off as his hand slides up under your dress, his fingers finding the heat between your legs with unerring accuracy.

You gasp, your body arching into his touch, but he’s not gentle, not this time. His fingers are demanding, ruthless, as they tease you, taunt you, pushing you closer to the edge with each passing second. But even as the pleasure builds, a knot of tension coiling in your belly, you know he won’t let you have it — not yet.

Carlos leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You don’t get to come until I say so,” he commands, his voice low, dangerous. “No matter how badly you want it. Understand?”

You whimper, your body trembling as you try to process his words, but the pleasure is overwhelming, consuming, and you’re not sure you can hold back. “Carlos … please …”

He tightens his grip on your thigh, his fingers still working you with relentless precision. “Do you understand?” He repeats, his voice sharp, cutting through the haze of your desire.

“Yes,” you gasp, the word slipping out before you can stop it. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” he says, and there’s a dark satisfaction in his voice, a thrill that sends another shiver down your spine. “Now be a good girl and take what I give you.”

His fingers delve deeper, and you’re helpless against the onslaught of sensation, your mind blanking out everything except the feel of him, the way he’s playing your body like a finely tuned instrument. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t reach that peak, can’t tip over the edge without his permission.

It’s maddening, frustrating in a way that leaves you teetering on the brink of insanity, and you can feel tears of desperation welling up in your eyes as you claw at him, begging for something you know he won’t give you.

“Please,” you sob, your voice raw, broken. “Please, Carlos … I need it …”

Carlos’ wicked smile lingers as he draws out your agony, savoring every moment of your desperate pleas. His fingers continue their relentless assault, pushing you closer and closer to the brink, but never allowing you the release you so desperately crave. It’s a torturous game, one that he’s mastered, and you’re helpless under his control.

Your breaths come in ragged gasps, and tears blur your vision as you claw at his back, your nails digging into his skin. “Carlos, please,” you beg, your voice breaking. “I’ll do anything … please …”

His eyes darken, the satisfaction in them almost predatory as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Anything?” He murmurs, his voice a seductive whisper that sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod frantically, your mind too clouded by desire to even consider the implications of what you’re agreeing to. “Yes, anything,” you gasp, your voice trembling with desperation. “Just … please …”

Carlos’ lips curve into a slow, dangerous smile as he shifts his hand slightly, changing the angle of his fingers, and you nearly scream at the overwhelming sensation. But just as you feel yourself teetering on the edge, he stops, his hand stilling completely.

“No!” The word tears from your throat in a ragged sob, and you feel the tears spill over, trailing down your cheeks as you shake your head in disbelief. “Carlos, please, don’t …”

He captures your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look up at him. His expression is intense, his gaze locking onto yours with a force that steals your breath. “Listen to me, mi amor,” he says, his voice low, commanding. “I need you to understand something.”

You try to nod, but his grip on your chin keeps you still, his hold unyielding as he continues. “You are mine,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You belong to me, body and soul. And as your maker, it is my responsibility to protect you, to keep you safe.”

You swallow hard, your breath catching in your throat as you feel the weight of his words, the gravity of the bond between you. It’s not just about possession, about control — it’s about something deeper, something primal that connects you in a way that goes beyond anything you’ve ever known.

“And you will never put yourself at risk again,” Carlos continues, his voice growing darker, more dangerous with each word. “Do you understand? You will never do anything that could endanger you, or anything that you know I would disapprove of.”

Your heart races as his words sink in, the power of his command wrapping around you like a vice, squeezing until it’s all you can think about, all you can feel. There’s no choice here, no room for defiance or rebellion — his will is absolute, and you are powerless against it.

“Yes, Carlos,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you nod slowly. “I understand.”

His eyes search yours, as if looking for any hint of doubt, any sign that you might disobey him. But you’ve never been more certain of anything in your life. The thought of going against him, of putting yourself in danger again, is unthinkable, not just because of the consequences, but because you know how much it would hurt him.

Carlos seems satisfied with your answer, his expression softening slightly as he releases your chin. “Good,” he says, his voice low, but no less commanding. “I don’t ever want to have this conversation again.”

You shake your head quickly, your heart pounding in your chest as you press yourself closer to him. “We won’t,” you promise, your voice trembling with sincerity. “I swear, Carlos. I’ll be careful. I won’t … I won’t make you worry again.”

For a moment, he simply stares at you, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then, without warning, he crushes his lips against yours, kissing you with a ferocity that leaves you breathless, your body trembling under the force of his desire. It’s a kiss that’s both a punishment and a reward, a reminder of the power he holds over you and the depths of his need for you.

Carlos’ hands are everywhere, his touch rough, possessive, as he pulls you even closer, his body pressing against yours until there’s no space left between you. You can feel his control slipping, the leash he’s kept on himself fraying with each passing second, and it only heightens your own need, your own desperate desire to be consumed by him.

He pulls back slightly, his lips trailing down your neck, and you shiver as his breath ghosts over your skin. “You drive me crazy,” he murmurs against your throat, his voice low, a growl that sends a thrill of anticipation through you. “Do you know that? You push me to the edge, and I can’t help but want to take you there with me.”

Your breath hitches as you feel his fangs scrape against your skin, a light, teasing touch that makes you whimper in anticipation. “Carlos …”

His name is a plea, a prayer, and you feel his lips curve into a smile against your neck. “Tell me what you want, amor,” he whispers, his voice dark and seductive. “Beg me for it.”

Your heart races, your body trembling as you clutch at him, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Please,” you gasp, your voice desperate, pleading. “Please, Carlos … I need it. I need you.”

He chuckles softly, a sound that’s both cruel and comforting, and you feel his hand slide down to grip your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his waist. “I want to hear you say it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the spot where your pulse races just beneath the surface. “Beg me to bite you.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, and you know he’s testing you, pushing you to the edge of your endurance. But you’re too far gone to care, too desperate for his touch, his bite, to even think about pride or resistance.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you tilt your head back, offering him your throat. “Please, Carlos … bite me. I need it. I need you.”

Carlos growls low in his throat, a sound that vibrates through you, igniting a fire deep in your core. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice rough with approval. “You’ve been so good for me.”

His lips brush against your skin, soft and teasing, before he sinks his fangs into your neck with a sharp, sudden bite. The pain is brief, almost sweet, as it melts into a wave of pleasure that crashes over you, stealing your breath, your thoughts, until there’s nothing left but the feel of him, the way he consumes you.

Your vision blurs as the sensation overwhelms you, your body trembling uncontrollably in his arms. You can feel the pull of his fangs, the way he draws your blood with each slow, deliberate suck, and it’s intoxicating, a pleasure so intense it borders on pain.

But even as you feel yourself slipping away, lost in the ecstasy of his bite, Carlos is there, grounding you, his hands strong and sure as they hold you close. You can hear his voice, a low, soothing murmur in your ear, though you can’t make out the words — just the sound of it, the way it wraps around you, comforting you even as he drains you.

And then, just as you think you can’t take any more, just as you feel yourself beginning to fade, Carlos pulls back, his fangs slipping from your neck as he licks the wound closed with a tenderness that belies the intensity of his actions.

You’re left gasping, your body trembling with aftershocks, and you can barely hold yourself up as you cling to him, your mind a haze of pleasure and exhaustion. But Carlos isn’t done with you yet. He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed and laying you down with a gentleness that makes your heart ache.

He hovers over you, his eyes dark and unreadable as he studies your face, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. “You’re mine,” he says softly, his voice full of possessiveness, but also something deeper, something that makes your chest tighten with emotion. “Always.”

You can only nod, your voice lost in the whirlwind of sensations that still linger in your body. But you don’t need words — he can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way you cling to him, the way your body responds to his every touch.

Carlos leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that’s achingly tender, a stark contrast to the roughness of his earlier actions. It’s a kiss that seals a promise, a bond that goes beyond the physical, beyond the blood you’ve shared.

But even as he pulls away, his eyes darken with something else, something that makes your pulse quicken with anticipation. “I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, his voice a low, dangerous purr that sends a thrill of excitement through you. “You still haven’t earned your release, querida.”

Your eyes widen, your breath catching in your throat as his words sink in. You’re still trembling, still reeling from the pleasure of his bite, but you know better than to think he’s going to let you off easy. Carlos is nothing if not thorough, and when he promises to punish you, he always follows through.

Carlos’ words hang in the air, a tantalizing promise that leaves you trembling with anticipation. His body is a solid weight against yours, pinning you to the bed, and every touch, every brush of his skin against yours sends shockwaves of desire through you.

Yet, there’s a new tension in the room now, something more than just the heady mix of pain and pleasure. It’s the awareness that this is a punishment — a lesson, a reminder of the power he holds over you. But even as you dread the torment he might inflict, a part of you craves it, revels in the way he takes control.

“Do you remember what I told you?” Carlos’ voice is a low growl, rich with authority, and you can feel the rumble of it in his chest against yours. His hand trails down your side, a teasing touch that makes you shiver. “About how you’re not allowed to tip over the edge until I say so?”

You swallow hard, your throat dry, and nod slowly. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of your need. “I remember.”

“Good,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a dangerous smile as he watches your reaction. “Because I’m not finished with you yet. Not even close.”

With deliberate slowness, he shifts his body, moving down your length, and the absence of his weight leaves you feeling exposed, vulnerable. His hands glide over your skin, tracing patterns that make you gasp, his touch both soothing and electrifying. You try to lift your hips, desperate for some kind of friction, but Carlos’ hands are there, holding you down with a gentle but firm pressure.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts softly, shaking his head. “No moving. You’re going to lie there and take what I give you, understand?”

Your breath catches at the command in his voice, and you bite your lip, nodding. “Yes, Carlos,” you murmur, your voice barely audible.

His eyes darken with approval, and you can feel the heat of his gaze as it roams over your body, taking in every inch of you. “That’s my girl,” he purrs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “So obedient … so eager to please.”

Carlos’ hands slide lower, over the curve of your hips, the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and you shudder as his fingers brush against the place where you ache for him the most. But just as quickly, he pulls back, leaving you teetering on the edge of frustration.

You let out a small, involuntary whimper, your body trembling with need, and Carlos’ eyes flash with something dark and primal. “Patience, mi amor,” he whispers, his voice a soothing caress. “You’ll get what you want … but only when I’m ready to give it to you.”

The anticipation is excruciating, each passing second a slow torture as Carlos continues to explore your body with languid, deliberate movements. Every brush of his fingers, every kiss he places on your skin, is designed to drive you mad with desire, to push you closer and closer to the edge without ever letting you fall over.

“Carlos,” you gasp, your voice trembling as you reach for him, needing to feel him, to touch him. “Please …”

But he catches your wrists in his hands, pinning them above your head as he leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re not in charge here,” he murmurs, his voice dark with intent. “I am. You’ll come when I say you can, and not a second before.”

The power in his words sends a thrill through you, even as you struggle against the restraints he’s placed on you. There’s something intoxicating about surrendering completely to him, about giving up control and letting him take the lead. And as much as it frustrates you, you can’t deny the way your body responds to his dominance, to the way he commands you with just a word, a touch.

Carlos releases your wrists, but the weight of his command keeps you in place, your arms trembling as you resist the urge to reach for him again. He moves lower, his lips trailing down your stomach, and you can’t help the way your muscles twitch under his touch, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

He pauses just above your core, his breath ghosting over your skin, and your hips lift instinctively, seeking contact, but he pulls back again, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “So impatient,” he murmurs, his voice laced with amusement. “But I suppose I can’t blame you … after all, I’ve kept you waiting for so long.”

Your breath hitches as he finally dips his head, his mouth descending on you with a deliberate slowness that makes you gasp. The first touch of his tongue is a shock of pleasure that sends a jolt through your body, and you arch off the bed, a cry tearing from your throat.

Carlos hums in approval, his grip on your thighs tightening as he holds you in place, his tongue working you with a skill that leaves you breathless. He’s relentless, his movements precise, calculated to push you closer and closer to the edge without ever letting you tip over.

You’re a mess of gasps and moans, your hands clutching at the sheets as you writhe under his touch, your body straining for release that remains just out of reach. The tension coils tighter and tighter, until you feel like you might shatter from the pressure.

“Carlos … please …” The words are a broken plea, a desperate cry for mercy, and you can hear the raw need in your own voice.

But Carlos is unmoved, his pace steady, unyielding as he pushes you further, dragging out your torment until you’re trembling with the effort of holding back. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and there’s a fire in them, a hunger that takes your breath away.

“Do you want to come, querida?” He asks, his voice a low, seductive growl that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice shaking with desperation. “Please, Carlos … I need to …”

“Then beg for it,” he commands, his gaze locked on yours. “Beg me to let you come.”

The words send a thrill of anticipation through you, and you can feel your resolve crumbling, your pride slipping away in the face of your overwhelming need. “Please, Carlos,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Please … let me come. I can’t … I can’t take it anymore …”

Carlos’ lips curve into a satisfied smile, and he rewards your submission with a quick flick of his tongue that makes you cry out, your body arching off the bed. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with approval. “You’ve been so good for me … I think you’ve earned it.”

His words are your undoing, the permission you’ve been craving, and as soon as they leave his lips, you feel the tension snap, the release crashing over you in a wave of pleasure so intense it leaves you gasping for breath. Your vision blurs, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm as Carlos continues to work you through it, his hands and mouth relentless as he draws out every last drop of pleasure.

It’s too much, too overwhelming, and you find yourself sobbing with the intensity of it, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders. But Carlos is there, grounding you, his touch soothing as he eases you back down, his lips trailing soft kisses along your skin.

When the last of the tremors finally subside, you collapse against the bed, utterly spent, your body trembling with aftershocks. Carlos lifts his head, his eyes dark and intense as he watches you, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

“You did so well, mi amor,” he murmurs, his voice soft with affection as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “I’m so proud of you.”

You can’t find the words to respond, your voice lost in the haze of pleasure and exhaustion that lingers in your body. But you don’t need to say anything — Carlos can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way you relax into his touch.

He shifts, moving to lie beside you, and you immediately curl into him, seeking the warmth of his embrace. Carlos wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, and you bury your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent.

For a long moment, there’s only silence, the two of you lying together in the aftermath of your shared pleasure. But even as your body begins to calm, your mind is racing, replaying the events of the night, the way Carlos took control, the way he commanded you.

It’s a heady feeling, knowing that you belong to him, that he holds this power over you. But it’s also comforting, a reminder that you’re safe, protected, that Carlos will always be there to guide you, to take care of you.

“I love you,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can think to stop them.

Carlos stiffens slightly, and you feel a pang of uncertainty, wondering if you’ve said the wrong thing. But then he’s tilting your chin up, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I love you too,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “More than anything.”

The sincerity in his voice, the raw honesty of his words, takes your breath away, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Carlos …”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his lips soft and tender against yours, and you can feel the depth of his feelings in that simple touch. It's a kiss that seals a promise, one that transcends words, binding the two of you together in a way that’s eternal, unbreakable.

When he finally pulls back, there’s a look in his eyes that speaks volumes — a silent vow that no matter what comes, you’ll face it together. “Forever,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle caress, and you know he means it in every sense.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips as you rest your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a sense of peace. “Forever,” you echo, feeling the word settle into your very soul.

In his arms, you feel complete, whole in a way you never imagined possible. And as the night wraps around you like a blanket, you let yourself drift, knowing that with Carlos by your side, eternity doesn’t seem nearly long enough.

[hotwritergf]

I’d give you my sunshine, give you my best. 🌤️

"You know, when we first met, I never figured you for this much of a cuddler." You murmured into his hair, the scent of his coconut hair products filling your nostrils and you sigh in the smell of home. Spencer was the embodiment of home for you. Be it the coffee cup that was practically super-glued into his hand, the bookshelf full of fantasy novels that he'd read to you in the early days of your relationship or the way his fingers fit over your curves and slot in place like puzzle pieces. He made you feel right, he made you feel at home.

"I'm typically not. But you're so warm, and soft." Spencer whispers, nestling his face further into your sternum. "And when I lay here, like this, I can see your freckles." He chuckles, tracing his index finger over the melanin constellations that are scattered across your nose and cheeks. "Plus your eyes are so pretty up close." He adds, rubbing his thumb lovingly over your cheek. You take a deep breath and smile as you exhale; a smile pinning the corners of your lips up.

"You don't have to say that, you know?" You whisper into his ear, the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention. Spencer frowns; a look of disappointment flooding over him as you make your insecurities known discreetly. "I wish you could see yourself through my eyes." Spencer mimics taking his eyes out of his head and locking them in place on your face. Playfully making sound effects as he acts. "But don't you worry little-lady. I can love you enough for the both of us. I'd do anything to wake up to that face every day. Even if you do snore and dribble onto the pillow." He lets out a squeaky giggle, tracing his thumb over your bottom lip as if he was mopping up saliva. "What did I ever do to deserve you, Spencer Reid? My very own genius." You offer him a smile in return, your acrylic nails trailing up his wrist softly as he giggles under the much-too-light, ticklish touch; pulling his arm away from the sensations.

Spence wriggles in his seat; sitting up against the headboard, frantically tapping the bedside table to find his glasses. Once he does, he tips them onto his nose, his pupils dilate under the sight of you as his eyes meet yours with an eye-wide grin. "We're gonna be late. Gotta get up now sweetheart." He speaks in-between yawns, stretching his arms in the air and clicking his head from left to right. You groan, still a victim of the sandman. Climbing over his lap and slotting yourself over his legs, you glance up at him. Leaning your face only millimeters from his, admiring all of his features. His slight wrinkles by his eyes that you can only see when he's laughing harder than usual, his dimples that make each smile so much more personal. You wish you could climb right into that dimple crevice and live there forever under the heat of his smile. Resting your foreheads together, your eyelashes flutter on tops of his cheeks, giving him a delicate butterfly kiss. His lips smooth and delicate as they push into your own, each open mouth embrace ricocheting against your body both physically and mentally. Kissing Spencer feels like your being is traveling to a higher place, like you're evolving into another being; dancing in front the gates of heaven.

You tap on his shoulders; lifting your weight from his thighs. "No rest for the wicked." You smirk as he whines at the loss of your touch, rolling his eyes. Spencer stands at the side of the bed, offering his hand to help you up and draping his dressing gown over you. He leans over, his height still dominating you before he plants a peck on the tip of your nose. You're not sure what sunshine feels like in a person, but the human humidity that washes over you when Spencer touches you is as close to sunlight as you have ever known.

[orteil42]

Cookie Clicker turns 10 today! Having outlived our enemies, let us celebrate with a fresh batch of announcements!

🍪First of all, Cookie Clicker is 40% off on Steam this week! The perfect gift for your loved and/or hated ones! (the web version is still free forever but you don't get Steam achievements or music by C418!)

🍪Secondly! The mobile version has been lagging behind the browser game for years and is in dire need of an update. I've been dedicating most of my time recently to bringing its content up to par! Here's a progress report:

Compared to the current version, this update adds back 284 upgrades and 179 achievements from the web game, which leaves 83 upgrades and 94 achievements still unimplemented plus a good amount of heavenly upgrades. I am determined to close that gap!

Seasons and the pet dragon are currently partially implemented. These are complicated, compound features with side-effects in all kinds of places so once the update gets an alpha release I'll likely be needing everyone's help to hunt for bugs and oversights. I'm being as thorough as possible but there's no way I didn't forget some obscure interplay somewhere!

I'm also updating the UI! Cookie Clicker's interface makes heavy use of woodwork, which is largely absent from the mobile version; I've been aiming to bring it back. Rather than recycling desktop assets, I'm looking to push the game's visual identity towards less "plain wooden boards" and more "victorian biscuit shop" (something I'd have liked to go for when I first made the game but didn't quite know how yet). Here's some early screenshots!

I'm using Blender for the new assets, I might make a more in-depth post about my process in the future. Please note that these are experimental and I'm still fiddling with the look! Once I'm happy with it I'll ideally be giving the desktop game a similar makeover.

This update will hopefully come out later this year and will likely involve multiple rounds of alpha. Once stable, future updates will focus on adding sugar lumps and as many of the minigames as possible.

🍪Thirdly: the Makeship grandma plushie is real and we're doing a giveaway! Please read this twitter post to enter. Note that if the launch campaign succeeds we've got other plushies in mind! Maybe a wrinkler?

🍪Fourthly - there was going to be a really cool announcement here but I've been informed I'm not yet at liberty to discuss it. It's sooooo cool tho trust me. things happening. u gotta take my word for it. tune in next time

🍪Lastly:

i've got enough dough for like, idk 50 more? mom's recipe. white+dark+milk chocolate. they're very good thank you

PS. thank you for playing with us all these years! odds are some of you reading this have been here since the very start. that's mad to think about! Opti and I couldn't have done this for 10 whole years without all of you hyping us up. i want to see if we can do 10 more. get real freaky with it

[eternityservedcold]

my guide to getting started on firefox is the only one you need

step 1: download firefox from the official website

step 2: import your passwords and such from your browser. this sounds complicated, but it should take no time at all

step 3: download ublock origin from the firefox add-on website

thats literally all you need to do in terms of out of the box setup. you may wish to do more, such as downloading more add-ons (see under the cut for some i recommend), but this is all that is needed for most people

my recommended add-ons:

sponsorblock & her sister dearrow. sponsorblock allows you to skip sponsors in youtube videos, dearrow changes clickbait titles and thumbnails

dark reader. forces all websites to have a dark mode

the wayback machines official extension. allows you to archive and see archived versions of websites with 2 clicks

right-click borescope. allows you to view and save images, even on websites that disable it

search by image. what it says on the tin, including like a billion different image search engines, and you can customize which ones it uses

ruffle. a new flash player that is supposedly safer?? idc i use it because i have nostalgia for flash

xkit rewritten, my beloved. a suite of tumblr features you can toggle on the fly, including one-click reblogs with tags, blocking entire posts, loading the vanilla versions of audio and video, and much, much more

dont accept webp. does what it says on the tin, kills webps FOREVER

wikipedia vector skin and old reddit redirect. forces the old, better layout for those two websites

tampermonkey. allows you to write and use scripts for any website

redirector. make websites redirect to any other website, like forcing fandom wikis to go to breezewiki, forcing youtube to display shorts as videos, or forcing tumblr to display images in full quality (plaintext of these rules)

[wokeupinmars]

Agree to Disagree

Summary: Peter doesn’t believe you when you tell him you would've had a crush on him if you had known him in high school.

Warnings: None, this is just fluff featuring Husband!Peter and a Brooklyn Nine-Nine quote :)

masterlist

Half-packed boxes surround you as you sit on the floor, a beaming smile plastered on your face as you go through a stack of photographs. Your husband leans against the doorway watching you, “Good to know that neither of us did much packing.”

You turn your attention from the pictures to Peter, “Got distracted by old stuff too?” He steps further into the room and takes a seat beside you, “Big time. Found my old DS and spent the past thirty minutes playing Mario Kart, you?”

You turn a photo around to show him, captured within the glossy film is a younger version of yourselves, sitting at what appears to be May’s kitchen table, Peter’s elbow propped up on the table with his chin resting in his hand, grinning as you excitedly talk about something. “I wonder what I was talking about here,” you say, turning it back to you.

He tilts his head to the side, giving the picture another, before taking the rest of the stack out of your hands and starts looking through them himself, “Hand gestures and the passion in your eyes tells me it’s about why Amy and Laurie were perfect together and how Jo and Laurie were platonic soulmates .”

You perked up at the mention, “They were platonic soul-” Peter cuts you off, “Why do we have a picture of MJ and Harry making out?” Your eyes scan the photo in confusion but you quickly light up realizing why the photo was in your possession, “Oh! It’s from the night we met, look you can see us in the background.”

“You mean the night you fell madly in love with me after we all played Monopoly and you threw the thimble at my head because I bought Illinois Avenue and refused to sell to you?”

“Peter.” Your voice was stern despite the playful look in your eye. He lets out a huff, “The night you flirted with me for twenty seconds and I became obsessed with you forever.”

A giggle leaves your lips at his words, “That’s more like it. MJ showed me and I asked for a copy, it’s technically the first photo of us together even if we weren’t dating yet. I wanted to remember it.”

“Aww, you like me,” he teases and scoots over to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He glances down at the picture analyzing the background, and sure enough there you two were sitting on the couch his arm draped around the back of the it laughing as you whispered something in his ear. “Most days…oh my goodness look at this baby,” you say, spotting a picture of Peter from high school, “You’re so cute and dorky…or well extra. God, I would have had the biggest crush on you.”

He scoffs at your statement, “Yeah right…I was so nerdy and awkward back then, high school you would have never given high school me the time of day.”

“Peter, my love, I need you to shut up, that’s future my husband you’re talking about.” You furrow your brows at him.

He shook his head and persisted, determined to make his point, “I’m serious. There’s no way you would have liked me then, I was this lame and insecure guy who had no idea how to talk to girls.”

“Okay? So was everyone else. I know I didn’t know you then but feel like you’re selling yourself short here. I mean look at you.” You push the picture in his face, “Look at this cutie. He’s super smart and pretty and even if he’s unaware of it, charming. I would've been head over heels for this guy if we met back then. I’d also like to add that we’ve ran into several people who explicitly told you they had a crush on you back then.”

His lips twitched up slightly, “That’s really nice of you to say, Honey. But we didn’t meet back then, you met and fell for MJ’s hot friend with bleached hair in college.”

“Wrong. I was under the impression you were a dickhead before we met. I will be the first to admit that you were in fact a hot blonde and I did begin to warm up to you after Monopoly was over but I didn’t fall for you until you started rambling about string theory. I had never seen someone light up the way you did, and the way you talked…you explained everything in a way that never made me feel stupid. Plus you got so flustered and started stammering over your words after I wiped salsa from the corner of your mouth and that-”

“-was embarrassing.” He concludes.

You shake your head, “It was adorable, you were so blushy.”

“That feels like an appropriate reaction when you nerd out in front of the pretty girl you've been trying to impress all night with salsa on your face, but you’ve made your point,” he pauses for a second then continues, “we’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

You reach your hands out to cup his face and look into his eyes, “I was impressed, I love you and that big beautiful brain of yours. All it took was one conversation with you for me to know I wouldn’t be able to get enough of you, and I was right. It was true then and it’s true now and I’m certain high school me would have felt the same.” You give him a chaste kiss when you finish speaking.

Peter smiles into your kiss and then murmurs something against your lips, “God it’s like you have a crush on me or something.”

[helaintoloki]

Relenting

pairing: sparrow!ben x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of death, sparrow!ben is an asshole as usual, some fluff if you squint

notes: haven’t posted on this blog in forever but the new teaser brought me back from the dead so here’s this

summary: the world is ending and ben thinks it’s time to enjoy what’s left of it

You swirl the glass of champagne in your hand and watch as the alcohol begins to whirl around the cup. There’s a slight breeze in the air, but it’s warm and strangely comforting despite the current circumstances. The music from inside faintly reaches your ears out on the balcony, and though you feel slightly guilty for missing out on such a momentous occasion for Luther and Sloane, you can’t bring yourself to go back inside. What’s the point? Your time on this earth is limited, dwindling with each second that passes, so why bother trying to act like it isn’t.

An unwelcome presence joins your sulking figure outside, and you don’t even bother to spare him a passing glance. You think you hate him, or at least you want to hate him, but it’s hard to despise the man who shares the face of your long lost love. Blame it on nostalgia or pathetic longing, but there’s still some small part of you that believes he could be just like the boy you knew and loved in your youth, even if he hasn’t shown it at all in the time you’ve gotten to know him.

Finally acknowledging his presence, you take a swig of your champagne before retorting, “Don’t you have to go be an asshole somewhere else?”

“You’re hilarious,” he replies in a deadpan tone, and you don’t have to look at him to see that he’s rolling his eyes in annoyance. You like how easily you get under his skin, and his sarcastic remark prompts the smallest quirk of your lips.

“Yeah?” You reiterate with a small shrug, eager to push his buttons in any way you can. “My Ben used to think so too.”

“Would you shut up about ‘your’ Ben, already? It’s pathetic,” He snaps in irritation, obviously set off by your remarks. “All you do is whine and complain about what a jerk I am instead of realizing I could help you out if you’d just help me.”

“By pretending to be your dead girlfriend? No thanks,” you scoff with a wry laugh before downing the rest of your drink. It burns your throat, but the discomfort is almost soothing in a way. It’s a type of pain you can control and inflict upon yourself out of your own volition. You haven’t been in control of anything since becoming wrapped up in all this apocalypse time travel nonsense, and you grapple for any semblance of it whenever possible.

“It’s not pretending if you technically are her,” the Sparrow insists adamantly, faltering for a moment as he adds under his breath, “albeit a more whiney and uptight version of her.”

He immediately ducks when you chuck your glass in his direction, narrowly missing his head in the process. You wish you had Diego’s precision so you could hit the desired target of his face, but the look of bewilderment on his features is good enough for now. You wordlessly turn to head back inside and rejoin the wedding festivities, because forcing yourself to act like attending wedding at the end of the world is normal is much better than spending another second out here with him, but his firm grip on your wrist halts your movements. If you really wanted to you could break free from his hold, you’re a better fighter than he is and you could easily use your abilities to overpower him, but you make no attempt to do so. The touch is familiar, comforting despite how hard you try to deny it, and you’d like to savor it even if it’s not right.

“The world is ending, and there’s no going back,” he reminds you, the gentleness of his voice almost scaring you. It’s a jarring contrast from the usual sharpness that he speaks to you with, and you’re not sure if it disgusts or comforts you. He sounds like your Ben now, and the realization prompts your breath to hitch in your throat.

“What do you want from me?” You demand with a lack of conviction, your previous confidence dwindling as you morph back into that same scared little girl who once thought she could never survive without the boy she loved.

“I want to spend whatever time I have left on this shit hole with my y/n, even though I know it’s not really her,” the Sparrow relents in defeat as he comes to terms with his fate. “Don’t you want to spend one last night with Ben?”

You remain silent, your lips held together in a firm line and your brows creased in thought as you digest his words. This man is not yours, not even close, but he belonged to another version of you in this timeline, a version that is currently buried six feet underground. This entire time you’ve done your best to fight the urge to give in to him, to let yourself play pretend with the Sparrow and act as if tragedy had never struck the Umbrella Academy. With the world coming to an end, did it really matter now if you finally relented to his pleas? Didn’t you deserve to be happy, too?

Taking your silence as rejection, Ben slowly begins to release his hold on you. However, he’s taken by surprise when you immediately throw yourself into his embrace and pull his face towards you for a kiss. He doesn’t notice the tears that streak down your cheeks or the way your hands tremble as you cup his face; he’s too busy savoring the taste of something that had been taken from his years ago.

As he wraps his arms tighter around your waist, he determines that this time around, he’s not letting go.

[sweatyracoon]

i need to get this off my chest..

could i request a seungmin x reader where she just marks up his chest cause.. seungchest supremacy… (add any storyline leading up to it)

SEUNGCHEST SEUNGCHEST SEUNGCHEST

✨Seungchest Supremacy ✨

A/n: Girl- 🫠the things he made me feel when I saw these photos; him in that tank top?!? I literally died. I believe in Seungchest Supremacy 🫡

Warnings: biting, licking, marking, hickeys, MDNI, language, clingy reader, etc

When you watched the video he sent you of him at the Chanel ad, you nearly choked.

Though you had both been together for nearly a year, you had never been intimate. Nor had he ever bothered wearing a tank top. But the new Skz code showed you just how beautiful he had gotten.

And the Chanel ad? You nearly started foaming at the mouth at the sight of your boyfriend.

His neatly cut hair just made him seem more mature, accentuating his features, his gaze sharper.

You watched the Christmas video at least a million times before he texted you he was headed back home.

You counted the hours you had until you saw him again, hoping he was still wearing that beautiful outfit that showed off more than your used to.

Despite it being a suit, you saw that if he bent down, you could see the chest you've been dying to claim.

Yes...you had a but of a marking kink, and Seungmin knew that, but neither of you explored it, thinking it would cross boundaries.

You have never had sex, but light make out sessions were a must.

It was four am, but you were wide awake. You heard the lock click from your seat on the couch, the door creaking open slowly.

He must have thought you were asleep, because he left his bag by the door,.and walked towards your shared room.

"Minnie?" Your voice made him jump and spin towards the couch.

"Baby? Why are you up?" He asked softly, pulling his hat from his head.

You were disappointed to see him in a sweater and a pair of shorts, but he still looked as handsome as ever.

"Wanted to see you..." You muttered back as he grabbed your hand, motioning for you to stand.

You obeyed, and he led you to the bedroom.

"Here, I'm just gonna take a quick shower, okay? Then I'm all yours," he grinned, sitting you in the plush blankets.

"Do you need to? Its been two weeks," you playfully whine, making him laugh.

God, his laugh was like music to you. You wanted to hear it forever.

"Yes, babe. The plane was all stuffy, and I'm sweaty. Just give me five minutes, okay?" He was already grabbing his sleep clothes, noticing the t shirt in his hand.

"Hey, Min?" You stopped him, coming up with a plan. He looked at you.

"I think I'm going to run the heater tonight. You should wear a tank top so you don't burn," you shifted, waiting for his answer.

All he did was nod and replace the clothing in his hands for something cooler, and you internally celebrated when he grabbed his black tank top.

When the door shut behind him, you squirmed with joy, making the bed to get comfortable.

You had the pillows set up a certain way since you were sleeping by yourself for the longest time, but now you move them so you can sleep with your boyfriend.

As promised, five minutes passed, and he emerged from the connecting bathroom red. Hot shower.

A towel wrapped around his head as he scrubbed it against his scalp, making sure it wasn't soaking the pillows, or you.

When he lifted his head from the cloth, you gasped.

His hair stuck to his forehead, shiny under the lighting of your lamp. His facial expression made you clench your thighs together. He tilted his head back with a long sigh.

"I needed that," he groaned, popping his neck.

You finally brought your eyes down to his sleepwear. A black tank, and plaid bottoms.

You have seen his arms before, wearing the same tank top. But that was a year ago before he started going to the gym with the guys.

Now he filled it out, his chest slightly larger, and his shoulders broad and muscly.

You nearly drooled.

"And I need you! Now get in bed!" You giggled, watching as he threw the towel to the side of the bed with a smile.

He climbed up against you, kissing your forehead.

"Someone's needy," he smirked, lying down next to you.

"Always," you respond, making his face flush slightly.

"So, I just want to let you know, that that outfit for your Christmas ad? Fucking hot, Min. Did you bring it home?" You started, tracing patterns onto his hare shoulder.

He choked on air, not used to you swearing.

"What? No-" he cleared his throat. He never handled compliments well. "I-It was a part of their collection. Couldn't take it," He got quiet towards the end, making you smile.

But he didn't acknowledge your compliment.

"Didn't you hear me Seung?" You lifted your head.

"Yes...?" He looked up at you confused. The patterns on his shoulder stopped.

"What did I say then?" You challenge, your face serious.

You wanted him to know just what he did to you. How good he looked. You know he doesn't believe that he looks good, that he isn't as liked as you think. But you wanted to show him.

"That you liked the outfit?" He replied, tilting his head.

He reminded you of a lost puppy.

"Your missing an important part, Min. That you were hot...ARE hot. Wanna hear what my favorite part was?" You leaned down, your hair falling to frame his face.

"I-What? Uhm," he licked his lips. "What was, y/n?" He couldn't look away from you, your body nearly on top of his, filling his senses.

"You've never been one to show off, you know? But recently, your showing more. That outfit did very little to cover your chest. Anytime you moved a certain way, I could see into your suit, Minnie. God! Why show it off to stay before me?" You groaned, resting your chin in his collar bone.

His breathing had gotten heavier as he listened to your pleading words, slightly aroused by your stern tone.

"I never knew you wanted to see my chest that bad. You could've just asked," he muttered, eyes shutting as his cheeks reddened.

You lifted your head again, your lips hovering over his.

"Could I have?"

He was quiet. You both knew that you wouldn't have asked. But he would have given you anything you wanted. Will give you anything you want.

The only reason why you two hadn't had sex is because he wasn't sure if you wanted to. He would never have asked because he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

You smiled, leaning in to capture his lips. It was slow, but gradually became more heated as the seconds passed, your body heat fusing with his, your breaths mingling. You pushed your tongue into his mouth,.moaning at the chance to taste him again.

He gripped your hips, grounding himself. He had always loved kissing you. It sent him into a whole new world. He would call it heaven if it made sense.

You pulled away, making him whine.

"Let me see your chest? I'll show you just how much I like it," you waggle your brows, giving him the choice. It was up to him. He sat the pace.

Without a word, he brought his had to the hem, slowly dragging it up his torso, giving you a show.

You sat patiently, enjoying the slow reveal of his beautiful body.

He had a light ab silhouette, making your eyes widen. You didn't know he had abs?! You wanted to lick them, but you stopped yourself. You'll get there later.

Once he brought it over the peak of his chest, he rested the fabric on his collar bones, moving his hand back to his side.

"This okay, baby?" You asked as you brought your head down to his torso, your breath hitting his heated skin.

He nodded. "Please," he whispered, and that was all you need to hear.

Above his left peck, you latched on, sucking gently before sucking harder. You grazed your teeth against his skin, and the sound he made made your eyes roll back.

He whimpered, his eyes shutting from the pleasure. You didn't know he was sensitive here.

You moved all around the nipple, avoiding it on purpose, trying to get a reaction. All you'd get was light moans and whines, but that was enough for you. Any sound of his like these you could listen to forever.

After leaving many marks, you finally brought your hot mouth to his nipple, and flicking the bud with your tongue.

His back arched in the bed, a loud moan eliciting from him. It made you grin against him, nipping lightly at him. He groaned, his hand coming up to fist your hair.

He didn't pull, but held you. It was feather light, and you knew he didn't want to hurt you.

You switched sides, your hand stimulating the one you just sucked, his head turning to the side as he sobbed from the overstimulation. His moan grew louder, his hips jolting up into the air. You looked in your peripheral, his thighs shaking as he dug his heels into the bed.

He's gonna cum, you realized, joy surging through you.

This will be the first time you ever make him cum, and just from marking his chest? Definitely an ego boost.

You go back to focusing on your sweet boyfriend, licking a long stripe from one nipple to the next, constantly switch so each one gets more sensitive.

"Y/n! Please..." He begged, making you pause for just a second to think.

Then you go back to it, sucking harder, but this time, letting your elbow brush against his clothed cock.

You barely touched him, but his head shot back, moaning louder as his hips twitched, his abs convulsing underneath your arm.

He came!

You lift yourself off his chest with a loud 'pop', drool coating your chin as you watched your boyfriend come down from his high.

His lidded eyes looked at you, his face and neck tinted red.

"That felt so good, baby," he mumbled, jaw numb from being open that long.

"You have a sensitive chest, Min. It's cute," you tease, pecking his lips before laying down beside him once again.

"If I knew, I would have told you. Thank you," He said before grabbing your hand, and bringing it up to his mouth to kiss.

"Your welcome. Believe me now?" You twist so your fully facing him.

"Yes..." He was still breathing heavy,.but it was more normal. He flashed you a loving smile before sitting up. "I'm going to change real quick, okay?"

He left to put on a t shirt and a pair of shorts, but you didn't mind. You got what you wanted, and even so, you can't deny the fact he looks good in a shirt.

"I love you, y/n," he kissed your nose after he got comfortable next to you.

"I love you too, Seungmin," You smile before cuddling against him.

[chiquititaosita]

˗ˏˋ꒰♰꒱ gojo dating a latina | (gojo satoru x latina! reader)

I got inspo for gojo recently, he’s so hard yet easy to write for but when it comes to x readers YALL MOTIVATE ME also please comment if y’all wanna be on the tag list @sanjisblackasswife @mommypieck @backwzzds @chrollohearttags @painism

- finds it hot when you dance shaking your hips

- immediate wolf whistle and tries to use his charm

-loves that you played hard to get

- when you speak Spanish oh my god his love for you grows 10x bigger

-he even loves how you say his name, makes him melt

- he’s in love with your dialect fr

-then your distinctive latina indigenous features

-loves to kiss your nose bridge specifically

-If you wear lip liner, he’s gonna call your kisses spicy kisses

-“I want besos and I wan’em now!!l

-calls you spicy, and exotic (man’s got jumped) 😭😭

- LOVES ALL SIZED LATINAS POINT BLANK PERIOD

-loves it when you wear honey on your lips

-“oh hello there mamacita!!” The way he says it sounds so white you find it funny 😭😭

-will call you mamas, mami, or princess

-picks up on Spanish lingo claiming he’s learning on duolingo but he’s serious yet never finishes things 💀

- LOVES IT WHEN YOU COOK!! He’s never had that much flavor even Japanese food has tons of flavor

-dances to everything

- actually is afraid of your aim when you throw shit at him (specifically the chancla)

- he hates it when you grab it and spank his ass sometimes playfully

-y’all make fun of each others accents.

-when he yells your name he adds a Spanglish accent.

- he fw bad bunny and romeo santos

- gets hard when you get angry in Spanish,

-“dude why are you not scared?” “I love it when she’s angry.” he’ll be all smitten for you

- feeds you (we Latinas are ALWAYS HUNGRY)

- “so uh quieres joder?” That’s how bad it is

- loves that you’re possessive and clingy because he won’t have to worry as much about you being loyal

-“WHY IS YOUR LOCATION OFF?!”

-“Im on a mission—“

-“I’m going over there.” You’ll hang up and drag him by the ear, take the train home lecture him on not scaring you on missions. Because well like curses and some curse users

-“you look bonita!!”

- he loves how wild you are!!

- hands on hips when doing perreo IS A MUST

-man’s got some seasoning in him you just brought out the rest of the inner spice he needed.

-when you tell him your insecurities about being a phase or used as a token girl he’ll be serious and reassure you that he only has and does have eyes for you only

-nah bc you got him that much weak in the knees

- loves the fact you are always calling him papas, amorcito, satorito (HIS FAVORITE)

-pretends to be sounding dumb not knowing some basic Spanish words just to hear them in English or Japanese (whichever language y’all speak to each other)

-“te amo.”

-“what does that mean?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too!!” He’ll kiss you and also finds you addicting

-when you both kiss he gets addicted “ugh you taste amazing!!”

- will never get his hands off of you

-loves you for you. Forever and always

[dixons-sunshine]

In SICKNESS and in health | Daryl Dixon x Fem!reader

*GIF isn't mine*

Summary: Even before you and Daryl got married, he vowed that he would take care of you, no matter what—in sickness and in health. Now, when Daryl returns from a run, burning up, sniffling and coughing, it’s your turn to return the favour and take care of him.

Warnings: Mentions of vomiting and swearing, but other than that, fluff!

Era: Alexandria, post Saviour war, pre the building of the bridge.

Word count: 2.8k

A/n: Not me casually dropping a fic after more than a year of nothing lol. Sorry about that :`). I’m also sorry about the crappy writing you’re about to read. I’m extremely rusty from not writing in forever. Also, this is my first time writing for Daryl, so I hope I captured his character as accurately as possible.

Chopping up vegetables to add to the soup you were making, you could distinctly hear the unmistakable rumble of your husband’s motorcycle, making a small, relieved smile grace your features. A couple of people in Alexandria—including Rick and Daryl—had gone of on a run three days prior and you had been worried sick. It was snowing rather heavily, and when a blizzard passed through the day before, your worry had skyrocketed through the roof. You weren’t alone in your worry—Michonne had been worried to death, too—but all you could do was hope for the best. Thankfully, it seemed as if though everyone was okay.

You hummed quietly to yourself in the kitchen of the small two-story house you and Daryl occupied in Alexandria. After a harsh, intense period of fighting with not only the undead but the Saviours as well, it was nice to have some semblance of peace in the aftermath. It had been a grueling process to rebuild the remains of Alexandria from the ground up, but with the help from everyone in the community, as well as from people in other communities as well, Alexandria stood tall and proud once again. With all the houses rebuilt and with additional houses built as well, you and Daryl had opted to claim one of the smaller properties as your own, a sanctuary away from the bustling crowd of Alexandria after an exhausting day.

The rumbling of Daryl’s motorcycle became louder the closer he got to your shared living quarters. When he parked in the driveway, the rumble abruptly stopped. Turning your attention back to the task at hand while anxiously waiting for Daryl to walk through the front door, you chopped up the last of the vegetables and added it to the soup you were preparing—chicken noodle soup—and made sure to season it accordingly. It was a dish that you had been wanting to make for a while, especially with the cold weather that bestowed itself upon the world.

The front door opened with a faint creak, notifying you of Daryl’s arrival. After wiping your hands on a rag, you moved out of the kitchen and towards the living room where the front door was located. There, you found Daryl slowly shedding himself of his coat. His eyebrows were furrowed together and his eyes were shut. When he heard your footsteps, he opened his eyes and looked up at you, giving you a small, tired smile.

You returned the hug instantly, resting your head against his chest and listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep. I was worried about you.”

“Hey,” he greeted you quietly. “You’re still up?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before moving towards you. He draped his coat over the back of one of the couches and moved towards you, embracing you in a loving hug. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, and you swore you could hear faint sniffling.

“M’sorry. We would’a gotten back a lot sooner, but the damn blizzard had us trapped. We had to camp out in one’a them houses on the road back."

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, your arms around him slightly tightening. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Daryl hummed and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, neither one of you breaking the hug just yet. The only sound that could be heard was from the fire crackling in the fireplace behind you. However, after a few seconds, you could hear a few faint sniffles coming from the archer. Frowning, you withdrew slightly, looking up at Daryl in concern.

“Dar... Are you okay?” you inquired softly, your tone perfectly voicing the concern you felt for your significant other.

“You don’t look fine,” you countered his previous statement after his coughing stopped, taking a tentative step forward. Your eyebrows were pulled together in worry.

“Yeah, m’fine. M’jus’ tired,” he said, trying to assure you. However, you weren’t buying it, and he knew it. “I swear, m’alright.”

Before you could voice your protest, Daryl quickly pulled away from the hug and stepped back. He brought his face to his elbow and erupted into a coughing fit, his chest heaving.

“Nah, m’fine. Jus’ got somethin’ in my throat, s’all," he replied firmly, trying his best to keep his face neutral. His attempts proved to be futile, however, when he sneezed into his elbow and the sneeze was shortly followed by another rampage of brutal coughs.

You walked up to your husband and took his hand in yours, prompting him to look at you. Raising one of your hands to his forehead, you weren’t completely surprised when you felt a scorching hotness beneath your palm. Daryl felt like a furnace, and you were a little surprised that you hadn’t realised it sooner. He had just come into the house after being out in the icy cold weather for three days, but instead of feeling cold, Daryl had felt warm—warmer than usual.

“Baby,” you whispered, raising your hands to gently cup his cheeks. Your frown deepened, your concern for your husband not fading. “You are not fine. You’re burning up.”

Daryl sighed. He closed his eyes and leaned into your soft touch, enjoying the coolness of your hands. “M’fine. Ya don’t gotta worry ‘bout me. I’ll live,” he mumbled stubbornly.

“Daryl,” you started, your tone stern but gentle, “you’re not fine. I can see that much. Why don’t you go upstairs and take a shower? I’ll be right up.”

Daryl opened his eyes and gave you a crooked smile. “I have a feelin’ that you ain’t about to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

You smiled at him and gave him a quick peck on his cheek. “Your feeling would be correct. Go on. I’ll join you in the room in a few minutes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Daryl responded with a small smile, before withdrawing from your touch and turning to descend up the stairs to execute your instructions.

You turned around and headed to the kitchen. From upstairs, you could faintly hear the shower running, and you felt relieved that Daryl was heeding your advice and showering off the grime of the last few days. After rummaging through the cabinets, you finally found a bottle of Tylenol. You set it down on the counter and turned towards the cabinets again, and took a glass from one of the shelves. After filling it up with water, you walked over to the stove and stirred the soup, tasting it after a couple of minutes to ensure it was ready. After retrieving a bowl and a spoon, you filled the bowl up with the soup and placed the bowl on a tray, as well as the water and the bottle of Tylenol.

You carefully and slowly descended up the stairs to ensure that not a drop of soup was wasted. Successfully reaching the top with no complications, you turned towards your and Daryl’s shared room and pushed the door open. After putting the tray down on Daryl’s bedside table, you could hear the shower shut off and the distinct shuffling of Daryl getting dressed.

You sat on the bed and waited patiently for your husband to join you in your shared quarters. After a few minutes, Daryl finally came into the room, clad in a loose fitting shirt and flannel pants. Now that he was cleaned up, you could practically see how sick he really was. He looked pale and his eyebrows were scrunched together, signalling that he was, without a doubt, suffering from an intense migraine.

You got up from your seated position on the bed and walked over to him. He offered you a small, weak smile, and you returned the gesture. Taking his hands in yours, you slowly started tugging Daryl along with you to the bed. You gently pushed him to sit on the bed, and he complied, but not without protest.

“You’re doin’ too much for me. Ya don’t have to, y’know? I’ll be alright,” Daryl protested, laying his head back against the wooden headboard.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. You’re always taking care of others, me most of all, so let me take care of you for a change.”

Daryl grumbled something under his breath and sighed, but nevertheless, nodded slightly. He covered himself with the blankets and carefully watched you through half lidded eyes. His eyes widened slightly in delight when you lifted the bowl of soup from the tray and delicately placed it in his lap. You sat on the edge of the bed next to him and gave him an expectant look.

“Eat up. I didn’t make this for love and charity, you know,” you joked, bringing a hand up to brush Daryl’s wet tendrils back from his eyes, giving you a better view of the ocean coloured irises you loved to get lost in.

“What ‘bout you? Ain’t ya gonna eat, too?”

You chuckled quietly and looked lovingly at your husband. “Always taking care of me, huh?”

“Ain’t never gonna stop,” Daryl agreed instantly, looking at you with an intense gaze that portrayed more than words ever could.

“I’ll eat later,” you promised him, gently caressing the side of Daryl’s face before retracting your hand again. “I wanna take care of you first. Make sure you’re comfortable, fed and resting, then I’ll eat something.”

Daryl only stared at you for a few lingering moments, before reluctantly bringing a spoonful of the soup to his mouth. He hummed in approval after the first bite. “This shit’s good. Thanks.”

You laughed lightly and shook your head. Standing up, you headed to the bathroom and grabbed a cloth. After wetting the fabric and wringing it of excess water, you walked back into the room and saw Daryl silently and dutifully devouring the soup. When you drew nearer, you were surprised to note that the bowl was nearly empty.

Daryl looked up at you and noted your surprised look. He gave you a sheepish smile and looked down, his face flushing. “I didn’t realise how hungry I was. Sorry.”

“That’s disgustin’,” Daryl drawled, scrunching his nose in a way that you found absolutely adorable.

After his statement, another series of coughs wracked through Daryl’s body. When he calmed down, you sat back down on the bed next to him. You leaned forward and gently placed the cloth over his forehead, eliciting a small sigh of relief from the archer.

“What are you apologising for? For enjoying my food?  Believe me, I’m glad you’re enjoying it and can actually stomach it. Usually when I get sick, anything that goes down comes back up in a matter of minutes.”

“I never said it was pleasant,” you laughed, taking the empty bowl from him and placing it back down on the tray. You substituted the bowl for the glass of water and handed it to him, as well as two pills that you took from the bottle.

“And this?” Daryl prompted whilst hesitantly accepting the pills from you.

“It’s Tylenol. It’ll help with that fever of yours,” you explained. You watched as Daryl popped the pills in his mouth and swallowed it down with huge gulps of water. When the glass was empty, you took it from him and placed it down on the tray. “I’ll talk to Siddiq tomorrow and see if he has anything for that cough of yours. Your voice has been sounding scratchy and I don’t want you to lose it completely.”

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows. However, before he could voice his protest, you quickly cut him off. “No, none of that. I’m talking to Siddiq, and that’s final. I’m also seeing if Aaron would be up for taking your place on runs until you’re feeling okay again, and I better not be hearing any protest from you whatsoever on the matter, Dixon. I’m only letting you out of this house when I know for a fact that you’re not sick anymore.”

Daryl only shook his head. He attempted to keep his face neutral, but the faint smile on his face betrayed his true emotions. He sighed before moving his body to lay down, keeping the damp cloth over his forehead. He shut his eyes and covered it with his arm.

“Alright. If that’s Doctor Dixon’s orders,” Daryl whispered, his tone playful.

You laughed. “It is.”

You moved to stand up and grab the tray, but Daryl’s hand suddenly grabbing yours halted you in your tracks. You turned to look at him and saw his eyes now trained on you. He seemed hesitant to ask you something, and it put you on edge.

“You okay?” you asked, running your thumb over his knuckles.

He nodded. “Yeah, m’alright. S’jus’...” He inhaled deeply and averted his eyes, seemingly ashamed of himself for the question he was about to ask. “Would ya maybe stay with me? I mean, s’late anyway and ya need to sleep, too.”

The tray on the bedside table was instantly forgotten. You smiled gently and brought your husband’s hand up to your lips, pressing a feathery light kiss on his knuckles. “Of course I’ll stay with you. You didn’t even need to ask.”

You walked over to your side of the bed and laid down on the soft mattress. Daryl covered you with the blankets and then proceeded to peel the cloth from his forehead, carelessly tossing it to the side somewhere on the ground. The two of you silently laid side by side for a couple of moments until you lightly patted your chest.

“Come here. I’ll hold you.”

Daryl scoffed slightly, his cheeks flushing, but complied, turning his body to lay his head down on your chest. You slotted your legs between his and slightly adjusted your body until you were comfortable. The archer wound his arms around your midsection and you brought your arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly to your chest.

“Comfortable?” you whispered softly, running one of your hands through his hair, softly scratching his scalp as you went.

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed, pressing his face deeper into your chest. He quietly sighed in content, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat and the soft scratching of his scalp slowly lulling him into slumber.

For the next few minutes, the both of you stayed there in a content silence. You continuously dragged your fingers through his hair in a gentle manner, and your other hand was lightly tracing the lengths of his arm. The silence was only broken by Daryl when he slightly lifted his head to look at you, his eyes heavy with sleep, but filled with an undeniable love for you.

“I love ya,”;he whispered quietly, making your heart flutter and a loving smile grace your face.

It was quite uncommon for Daryl to utter those three words first. Not because he didn’t love you, but because he wasn’t good with expressing his emotions the way people normally would. Because of that, he showed his love to you through actions, and you were perfectly okay with being the one to say ‘I love you’ to him first most of the time. However, when he did express those three words to you verbally without you saying it first, it always made your heart swell with adoration and love.

You pressed a gentle, soft kiss to his forehead. “I love you more.”

That made Daryl scoff and bury his head into your chest again. “Nah, that ain’t possible at all.”

Choosing not to argue with your husband, you simply chuckled and resumed your previous activity of threading your fingers through his hair. Not long after, you saw Daryl’s breathing slow down and steady into a slow rhythm, notifying you of his slumbering state. You smiled at him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. You settled back onto the bed and rested your chin on top of Daryl’s head, making yourself more comfortable. The soft sounds of Daryl’s breathing beckoned you into slumber as well, and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to succumb to the comforting confines of sleep.

Goodnight, love, you thought, finally falling asleep, Daryl tight in your embrace with no intention from you of letting him go.

[gay-dorito-dust]

hii, sorry to bother!! but if ur requests are open could you do something w the reader having a nightmare and the batboys having to comfort them? Kinda like the opposite of ur other post please, TYSM!!

Another request that i write while half asleep, I tried to think of something for Dick but I might’ve used the last of my brain juice tbh, today at work was defiantly…something to say the least.

Jason

‘You’re okay, you’re okay sweetheart I’m right here, nothings going to get you.’ Jason would reassure you as he held you tightly in his arms, keeping you pressed to his chest as close as he could.

‘It felt too real Jason.’ You cried into his neck, clinging onto him as though if you’d let him go he’d disappear, you recently had a nightmare of Jason leaving you and you were too helpless to stop him from doing so that you woke up in a fit of tears, clinging onto him in desperation.

‘I know sweetheart, I know but you know that I’d never do anything like that, ever,’ Jason started as he pressed a couple of kisses to your forehead to sooth you, ‘you’re unfortunately stuck with me chipmunk.’ He adds and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of being with Jason for the rest of your life.

‘Sounds like heaven.’ You sighed, kissing his neck as he chuckles.

‘You sure you won’t get bored of little old me?’ He asks teasingly but his eyes looked at you as though to ask if you were being genuine about being with him. He wouldn’t mind being with you forever for that was his own personal slice of heaven in of itself.

‘I’m very sure I wouldn’t because you always make every day worthwhile.’ You tell him as you nuzzled your head further his neck and intertwine your legs with his own, trying to get closer to him as your physically could.

‘Good because that’s how I feel about waking up to you every morning sweetheart.’ Jason said suddenly serious as he rubs his thumb against your side softly. ‘That me in your dream? Isn’t me because why would I run away for the one person who has ever made me feel truly…alive…the one person who didn’t treat me as though I was on the cusp of snapping.’ He then moves his head so it could rest against your own and pressing a small kiss to your nose. ‘You’re all the more reason for me to keep doing what I do if I am to ever get that forever with you sweetheart.’ He adds in a low whisper as soon enough you were both fast asleep, cuddled closely to one another as though terrified to first apart from one another, akin to that of a pair of otters going downstream.

Damian

‘Those nightmares won’t get to you anymore my treasure.’ Damian said as he held your hand firmly in his own, squeezing it periodically while giving you the space to control your breathing and focus on the reality in front of you, rather than the fantasy your mind took when you slept. ‘They cannot affect the reality of which we live in.’ He adds on.

‘It still felt all too real to be a dream.’ You tell him after having only gave him very vague responses to his questions about what it was that you saw in your dream, or rather nightmare was the more fitting word.

Damian sighed as he guided your hands to hold his face and keeping them there by having his hands cover your own, his thumbs caressing your writs as his emerald eyes looked deep into yours. ‘What about this?’ He asks.

���What about this?’ You replied, confused.

‘If what you say is true, then does this feel too much of dream to be real?’ Damian said as a silence befell you both as your eyes flickered across his face, taking in every one of his features that you adored so much and found yourself slowly being to relax.

‘No,’ you began, thumbs stroking his cheeks, as the nightmare seemed to get further and further away from you the more you focused on the man right in front of you who’s presence alone was enough to make you feel safe and comforted, ‘it feels…right.’ You finished as you felt the last of your nerves calm down.

‘Then this is what we’ll do from now one when one of us had nightmares.’ Damian said as he allowed your fingertips to map out the expanse of his face with featherlight touches that left him wanting to melt into your hands. ‘Reminds each other of what’s real and what’s not.’ He adds as you cuddled into his side, head resting against his chest to listen to his heartbeat as it lulls you back into a peaceful slumber with Damian watching over you.

[readychilledwine]

Housewife

✨️Kink education with Elizabeth✨

The Housewife kink, also known as the 1950s Household, is a power play exchange dynamic that typically involves a dom and service sub. It is characterized by one partner being seen as a homemaker and one as the breadwinner. During the 1950s, the homemaker’s “job” was to take care of the household chores, dinner, children (if they had any), and following norms, their husband's needs all while being the picture perfect example of soft femininity and breedability.

Subs partaking in this form of play tend to wear dresses, heels, aprons, ect, while maintaining a clean home and cooking. Many people enjoy this dynamic due to its ability to come into real-life play instead of just hiding in the bedroom.

It is one form kink play that does not necessarily have to be sexual, but that's not why we're all here 👀

NSFW BELOW CUT

💕Peep Valentines Day Bingo Here 💕

Azriel x Reader

Summary - After a long day of interrogations, Azriel is more than pleased to come home to dinner made, a clean home, and a pretty wife.

Warnings - sub and dom dynamics, references to completely power exchange play, oral (mreceiving), slightly demeaning behavior towards females

A/N - I apologize for the delay. My little is going through a growth spurt and a little fussy today. Plus, it took FOREVER to find the perfect gif.

Azriel opened the door to his cabin. His shoulders were slumped forward, wings hanging slightly lower than normal.

It had been a rough day. He had been torturing the same prisoner for 3 days now. They refused to yield, they refused to break, and they refused to bend and give the shadowsinger what he wanted.

He knew that all would change the second he saw you, though. You were currently setting dinner on the table. Your hair was softly curled and pinned back, a soft touch of makeup graced your face highlighting his favorite features of yours.

You were wearing a blue sundress the flowed out at the bottom with heels and a blue bow in your hair.

“How's my wife today?” He took pleasure in knowing you would not address him until he addressed you. He took pleasure in knowing that within seconds of hearing his voice, you were trained to get him a glass of whiskey and greet him with a kiss.

“Azriel, you're home early,” you immediately went to the liquor counter, dress swaying as you did. You poured him a finger of whiskey, moving to add ice before walking to him and kissing his cheek. “How was your day?”

Azriel drank as you began removing his outer heavy layer for him, watching like a hawk as you hung his coat and placed his already kicked off boats into the precise place he had told you they go.

“Same prisoner as yesterday,” he watched you blink in confusion. “The bastard will not break and submit. Did you make dinner?”

You nodded enthusiastically, walking him to the table and getting him a plate. “I made your favorite.”

Azriel settled into the couch after dinner, watching you as you cleaned dishes. Every soft movement of your dress had his eyes locked on the hem. Each time you'd reach forward slightly, he was rewarded with a glimpse at the garter belt straps that connected to the satin tops of your thigh highs. It was a constant reminder to him that you were his present, waiting to be unwrapped so delicately as a reward for your continued obedient behavior.

“Angel,” he spoke softly. “Are all your chores done after this?”

It should have bothered you as a wingless Illyrian female to hand over submission so willingly out of hope you'd be rewarded with your mate's cock pounding into you over and over, but instead knowing you were about to be rewarded, that he was about to use you like a pretty cock sleeve, that had your thighs pressing together. “They are. Unless you wanted me to do something else.” A cool shadow began swirling your leg. Its touch was like soft kisses and left shivers in its wake.

Azriel leaned back, watching his shadow go on its mission, watching as you took a gasp, spine going straight before moaning his name. “Let me know when you finish.” He placed an arm on the back of the couch, scenting your arousal filling the air as you whimpered and went back to the last few dishes.

It wasn't fair. Trying to focus on scrubbing and rinsing as a shadow sat vibrating against your lace covered clit was nearly impossible. 5 dishes, you reminded yourself. He lets you leave them overnight to dry. Just 5 more. You focused on the dishes, doing the best you could to ignore the growing wetness between your thighs.

You almost jumped as rough hands ran up your arms. “My pretty little wife. My mate,” one of his hands wrapped and held your throat. His other hand ran down your chest, through the valley of your breasts, before settling on your hip. He started placing soft kisses along your neck, your ear. “How lucky am I to have such an obedient wife taking care of my home?” He squeezed your throat softly before his other hand began lifting Your dress. The hand on your throat moved to join the other one as he moved you away From the sink and to a different section of countertop, bending you over it and place one hand at the back of your neck to hold you Down. He groaned as his shadows held up that pretty dress, exposing those sapphire lace panties

"The dishes," you panted.

"Can wait. I can't. I've been hard since I walked in to you setting the table wearing my color, wearing a little bow tying your hair back like some innocent little thing." Your panties were moved to the side. Two fingers began to run the length of your core as Azriel groaned behind you. "So fucking wet I've hardly done anything."

You heard a muffled moan and could only assume he had put his fingers into his mouth. "So sweet, baby." You could hear him undoing his pants, feel as the head of his cock ran your folds. You could feel down the bond that it would be a long night.

You gasped loudly, gripping the counter with a mix between a moan and scream as he pushed into the hilt. Azriel wasted no time, threading one hand into your hair and pulling while the other held your hip. Azriel growled as you wiggled slightly, causing you to still. "Such a good little wife."

He wasted no time, setting a pace that had your toes curling in those heels that made your ass look phenomenal. Shadows quickly moved to hold the dress up, allowing the hand on your hip to move to your still covered clit.

There was something freeing about being below him, serving him, being used by him. It was enough for that coil to tighten faster as your mind went blank, focusing on nothing but the feeling of his heavy hard cock hitting every nerve inside of you, angling until he found the spot that had you scream his name.

Despite the roughness he fucked you with, the power you were freely handing to him, Azriel still sent wave after wave of his love, his admiration, and his pride down the bond. With each wave, that coil got tighter and tighter, your moans louder and more desperate as your body felt like it was on fire. "Be a good wife and cum for me," his fingers pressed down on that bundle of nerves, hips pistoning into you even faster as you screamed his name, walls milking his cock.

Azriel pulled out instead of following you over the ledge, ripping that dress off of you and leaving you in the lingerie and heels. He lifted you into his arms while you still came down from the high, your vision almost blurred.

You felt the soft bed under you, smelling the fresh sheets you had just changed hours ago. Azriel smelled them too as he positioned you with your head hanging off the bed. "You spoil me," his hands ran to your breasts, squeezing and tweaking your nipples.

His cock sat heavy and leaking near your face, soaked in your release, "Open." You smiled, opening your mouth wide, allowing him to push in just as two fingers slid into your heat.

He was gentle this time, for now at least, fucking your throat. You ran your tongue along his length, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing around him. You were at his mercy, wiggling and moaning around him as the wet noises of his cock in your mouth and his fingers thrusting in and out of you echoed with his moans and occasional whimper.

His pace picked up as his fingers did, making him chuckle in satisfaction as you gagged around him. "You deserve a reward for how hard you worked today, don't you, y/n?" He groaned as you moaned around him, vibrating his cock as he held it deep in your throat. "Not a single thing out of place, every chore finished, and I came home to you looking like a delicious treat? What a good little wife." You felt your vision getting slightly blurry until he pulled out again, your pleasure almost maddening as he avoided the spongy spot inside of you and brushed your swollen clit with ghost like touches. "That's what you are isn't it? No thoughts in that pretty mind of yours but pleasing me and taking my cock like an obedient whore?"

You would have nodded, begging him to give you what you needed as you agreed to every word, but his cock was still occupying and twitching in your mouth. You knew from the way his fingers had become messier in their rhythm, from the way his words were getting breathy, from how each moment of your throat burning as he held himself deep inside grew longer and longer that he was close.

You had been dreaming of his all day. Dreaming for your reward for dusting, for cooking, for cleaning. The reward you'd get when he came home to a spotless house, to his laundry done, to you wearing your pretty outfit for him.

His fingers curled into the spot you needed, pressing and tapping there as shadows curled and flicked your nipples and his thumb ran gentle circles on your clit. You finished within seconds with no warning, crying around his cock, hands fisting the sheets.

Azriel fell over the edge soon after, spilling with his cock shoved all the way into your mouth forcing you to swallow what you could, head thrown back as his wings flared and he moaned your name without shame.

He pulled out, fisting the exposed length and allowing the last of his cum to land on your face, admiring the mess of drool, makeup, and his seed you had become. His fingers left your cunt, going to his own mouth as he licked them clean with a smile. He watched as your hand waved and the bathtub began to fill.

"I'm not done with you yet," he panted, hands trailing your body.

You smiled, your own hands running up and down his thighs. "I counted in that, but let me take care of your other needs first."

Azriel looked up, a wide smile on his face as he sent a silent prayer to whoever blessed you with acts of service as your love language. "I would really like that."

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu

Valentines Day Taglist:

@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish

@novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer

As always- please let me know if you would like to be added to a taglist 💜

[qedavathegrey]

Writing Will into Water

While most of us are familiar with burning and burial as means by which to make physical then manifest our wills, there is another method that I employ with some frequency: writing will into water.

It's a simple process (and made more complicated, if so desired). All you need is: a basin, water, and a writing implement (a finger works perfectly fine). With the water in your chosen basin, take your instrument and write on the water's surface just as you would on paper. Employ word, symbol, or what have you, imparting your desire into the water.

To the water, you might add any number of herbs, curios or other liquids. Wine or spirits make a good medium if you would like to impart your will into the very offering itself. For something more nefarious, you could add herb and/or scrap, cover and let the admixture ferment/rot, then leave it for the sun or otherwise release it. If your mixture poses no threat to the local environment, pouring your water into a lake, stream or river is a good option. Especially if your water came from that same source. Also, being mindful of modern water treatment and waste management systems: the water we pour down the drain is collected, treated and returned to us. This method might be used to affect persons who share the same treatment facilities as we do in nigh a direct way. But then, as we know, all water is connected at the end of the day, so perhaps that layer adds very little...

Even still, imparted water can be used much more directly on both self or others: as consumable, either as drinking water or as ingredient in food/beverage. Tea is, of course, a great option what with the endless possible inclusion. But then, that's all Kitchen Witching 101, isn't it?

Personally, I like the evaporation method the most. I enjoy the symbol of it: my will being reduced to its most potent form, then taking to the air to join with the clouds and the heavens, finally returning as precipitation. I think it suits my nature. But I think returning water to its source is also a powerful image. Joining it back with the current or body now carrying your will with it.

Just as with water, you can match the instrument and basin with your desire or the specifics of your practice. Perhaps you'd like to carve a stylus out of a certain wood, or use a rusted nail, or a feather, or bone. All perfectly fine options. Perhaps you'd like to use a cauldron or a ceramic bowl or your 1990s glass, promotional Batman Forever mug featuring nipple-suit George Clooney from McDonald's. Do whatever, do you.

None of this is likely new to most of you, but just something I wanted to speak on as I leave my cup on the table out back for the sun to drink.