#and then you let your cleverness get in the way
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venusbyline · 2 days ago
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Overwhelmed ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 31, oct.
(late post)
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— pairing: Spencer Reid x girlfriend!reader
— type: smut, dark, Kinktober (Criminal Minds Edition)
— kink: knife play + CNC
— summary: Spencer's mockery caused a sudden agony in your brain, your insides churning as your body writhed against the knife again. All of that seemed too much. Maybe it was because of the exhaustion of lying motionless in the chair, maybe it was because the ropes were too tight, maybe it was also because Spencer was starting to rub the knife too hard.
— tags/warnings: kinktober 31st day, female!reader, boyfriend!Reid, post-prison!Reid, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, knife play, consensual non-consent (CNC), kidnapping roleplay, rape roleplay, safeword use, dry humping, dry sex, aftercare, rope bondage, dumbification, curse words, crying, subspace, bittersweet ending, rough sex, spit, choking, asphyxiation, sadism, slight dark content, mild angst, mild fluff, soft!Reid, dom!Reid, sub!reader. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.
— tagging list: @thatredlipped-classic @purplehaze206 @ehedrick012110 @hotchsmutrecs @slutcakes00 @emma-e-a @helo1281917
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"Oh, what a naughty girl you are. Did you really think you could get away from me so easily?"
Spencer's words echoed through the room and you whimpered immediately, your panties stuffed into your mouth as a way to muffle the sounds you had been making since Spencer caught you over hours ago, your body cold from the loneliness inside the empty room, the only other thing there being the chair beneath you, your hands and legs tied by a rope whose material was good enough to keep you still even after you tried to squirm when he approached.
"Don't be so hard on me, princess." Spencer teased, chuckling as he walked over until he knelt in front of you, his large hand caressing your cheek. "It could have been worse, couldn't it? When I kidnapped you, I could have been more... Rough." His voice sounded so sweet it turned your stomach and you closed your eyes. Oh, you perfectly remembered about the kidnapping. You were leaving work and all you least expected while you were walking in the parking lot was that you would feel someone grabbing and immobilizing you from behind, the alcohol rag in your nostrils making it difficult for you to escape, until you finally passed out.
Spencer played with your cheek, caressing the skin like you were a doll. A living doll. God, you could even picture him turning you into something like that if you could not escape. "You're so beautiful. Your boyfriend must be such a lucky guy to have you all to himself... A little doll for him to have fun with every night." You opened your eyes when you heard the sentence, your pupils dilating after assimilating what he meant, and it took you a few seconds to react, returning to scream against the fabric of your panties. Spencer ignored the muffled sounds and let his hand trail down your neck, his fingertips brushing your jugular. "I'd like to have you as my doll. What do you think about that, princess?"
You stared at him with the best look of disgust you could muster, hearing Spencer's soft chuckle before he scoffed. "Poor little thing, I almost forget that you can't talk like that." He continued stroking your neck, but his free hand went to your mouth, removing your panties and smirking at the sight of you choking on the sudden intake of air through your mouth, your lungs burning more with each cough. "Better now?" Despite the mean voice, you noticed how Spencer was checking you out, waiting for a verbal response.
After continuing to cough for a while, you managed to mumble. "F-fuck you. You fucking and sick psycho."
Spencer's facial expression was almost comical, his brown eyes wide and his lips parted, trying to think of something clever to say. However, even the genius man with his extremely high and above average IQ was not prepared for your very angry tone and your swearing.
You take advantage of his momentary distraction to spit in his face, and that was what makes him snap out of his trance. Spencer growled, wiping the trail of saliva on his face with the cotton fabric of your panties and looked at you with fire in his eyes. The hand that was playing with your neck closed around it, your eyes widening as you feel the air being denied to you for the second time.
"Fucking slut. I was really trying to be nice to you." Spencer growled again. "Is this how you treat your little boyfriend? Spitting in his face like a wild badass? I don't think so..." Spencer's jaw clenched and he released your throat then. He considered shoving the panties in your face again, until he found a better use for the fabric, stuffing it inside his pocket.
You barely had time to register what was happening. One moment, you were coughing, your throat sore from the asphyxiation, and the next, you were a mess of moans and low screams, rubbing yourself against something hard that you were not sure what it was until you looked down.
Your pussy was simply rubbing against the tip of the handle of Spencer's knife, something he was keeping in his pants pocket along with the leather glove he nimbly put on when you were still struggling to breathe. He took advantage of the strength of the glove's fabric to hold the blade and stimulate your swollen clit with the wooden handle, your legs tied to the chair making your thighs press together, also making the friction more intense for you and more fun for Spencer to watch. "Poor little thing..."
Spencer's mockery caused a sudden agony in your brain, your insides churning as your body writhed against the knife again. All of that seemed too much. Maybe it was because of the exhaustion of lying motionless in the chair, maybe it was because the ropes were too tight, maybe it was also because Spencer was starting to rub the knife too hard.
You could not tell what was happening to your body and inside your mind, but you suddenly snapped. "STOP IT, PLEASE!" You cried out, trying in vain to stop your clit from continuing to pulse against the knife held by Spencer.
Spencer froze when he heard your voice, so fragile and painful. These words normally would not be enough to completely stop the roleplay. They were words always said during the roles. However, Spencer was not an idiot. He knew his girlfriend like the back of his own hand and knew something was wrong. Your scream sounded much more broken than most other times.
"Color?" Spencer asked, moving the knife away from your field of vision, still keeping it in his hand. "Baby, what's the color right now?"
You closed your eyes and took a deep breath when your clit stopped being so abused, tears flowing as you tried to think about your color system. Did you just want a brief break so the two of you could continue after you breathing for a few more moments? Did you want to stop the roles completely? Could you hold on a little longer? Were you too exhausted? Was Spencer mad at you? "Red. Or yellow. Or red... I don't know, Spencie. Please... I just wanna stop it." Your sob broke Spencer's heart, your tears being like salt in the wound. He did not take long to throw the knife on the floor, whispering an apology when you were startled by the sound of the blade hitting the floor.
"It's okay, baby. You're fine. We're fine. It's over. Now it's just me. Your Spencie, your boyfriend." Spencer muttered as he undid the tight knots he had made to immobilize your arms and legs. "You were so good to me, baby. You're always good. I'm so proud of you..."
You shook your head, tears still streaming down your face. You did not feel good enough for Spencer at that moment. Even though it was just your brain playing tricks on you, you could not help but feel useless. Why could not you hold on just a little longer? Both of you always played like that when Spencer was feeling bad about the prison memories. It was a way to help him fight the traumas he had acquired and his slightly dark side that had awakened. You did not know if it was actually a healthy sexual thing to do, but Spencer refused to talk about that part with the therapist.
Anyway, Spencer had your consent. It was something the two of you had already talked about and debated about his boundaries and yours. Sometimes the roleplay had a brief script to be followed and everything varied depending on the needs of both of you. In that week, you and Spencer had decided to go again for something more like an obsessive stalker and a taken girl. Spencer really had a thing for that kink, and you mentally wondered if he pictured your fake boyfriend in the roleplay as the past version of himself.
It was not anything you had not already done. It was always the controversial "consensual non-consent" roleplay. Spencer always gave his all to act perfectly, warning you in advance the day before that something like this would happen that night. You could blame it on tiredness from work, because you had actually forgotten about it when Spencer "kidnapped" you, even though you had followed his commands throughout the afternoon about parking your car away from the security cameras so no one would think he was really kidnapping you. He definitely did not need more time in prison for another mistake by the authorities.
"I-I'm so sorry..." You managed to mumble a few minutes later, the only words in your mind since Spencer untied you, picked you up and ran a warm bath for you.
"There's nothing to worry about, baby." Spencer said, running the sponge gently over your skin, taking extra care with your wrists, which were quite red and bruised due the ropes. "I overdid it this time. I left you waiting too long alone in the room and—"
You interrupted him when you realized he was blaming himself. "Stop it, Spencer. You did everything like we always do. I could have taken more... I just... I felt overwhelmed this time. It all felt like too much. I had too much stress at work and I even forgot a little about what would happen today." Your eyes opened to look at him, noticing that he also had a few tears in those beautiful and big sad eyes.
"I'm so, so sorry. I should have noticed." You shook your head again and Spencer sighed at your stubbornness, taking your wrist gently and placing a few soft kisses on your raw skin. "I'll make it up to you, I promise, baby."
You wanted to say that he did not need to make up anything. That he had not done anything wrong. You had used the color system as you should. You had said your safeword like you were supposed to. You wanted to tell him that you loved him and that he did not need to feel guilty about that situation. There were so many things to be said, clarified and reflected on, but both of you knew that was not the time yet. Spencer could deal with your silence for a while longer. He would bathe you carefully as you relaxed in the bathtub. He would apply ointment to your bruises, and apply body oil to the rest of your skin. He would dry your hair and lay you down on your large and soft bed, only leaving the room for a few quick minutes to get you some tea. Then, Spencer would let you rest and sleep, until your body and mind returned to stability and the two of you could talk about everything that had happened.
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Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist
HOTD Edition - Masterlist
Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist
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howlingday · 2 days ago
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Pop Off
Jaune: (Walks in) Oh! Hey, guys! What's up?
Yang/Pyrrha/Oscar: (Standing around)
Ozpin: Have a seat, Mr. Arc.
Jaune: Uh, sure... What's going on? Did I go rogue again?! I'm so sorry! I promise not to do again! Don't throw the book at me! I was young and needed the money and-
Yang: Alright, this is already off to a bad start.
Jaune: Huh? Oh, did I insult someone's favorite kid's show again?
Oscar: No, this isn't another Goof Troop situation.
Pyrrha: It's more serious than that.
Oscar: Slightly more serious.
Jaune: Um... Okay? So, what is this?
Yang: THIS is an intervention! Your dad jokes are out of control, Jaune! You have a problem!
Jaune: Dad jokes?
Yang: You know, like, "Can a kangaroo jump higher than a house?"
Jaune: Ha! Of course not! Because houses-
Yang/Pyrrha/Oscar: CAN'T JUMP.
Jaune: Y-Yeah... Alright, point taken. I'll, uh... just get some new material.
Yang: OR you could just stop! They're super lame!
Jaune: Yeah, but like, lame in a funny way?
Oscar: Eh... Not really...
Ozpin: I have to say, they're lame even by lame dad standards.
Pyrrha: I don't really see how they're funny.
Oscar: I think it's supposed to be ironic. Like, they're so not funny that they're actually funny.
Pyrrha: I don't think that's how it works.
Yang: Yeah, not to mention they're so ANNOYING when they're coming from you! I know when my dad came around and started spouting off dad jokes, it was cool or whatever, but he's not here and there's no need for another dad joke teller! We're doing this for your own good. Please, just stop...
Jaune: Wow, I... I had no idea you guys felt this way. But, if I can ask, what makes you guys the arbiters of comedy? Like, when does a joke become a dad joke anyways?
Pyrrha: Hm... I never considered that.
Oscar: Oh, actually, I do have an idea-
Yang: WAIT!
Jaune: (Grins) When it becomes...
Yang: STOP HIM!
Jaune: APPARENT! (Drops smokebomb, Runs)
Ozpin: GRAB HIM!
Pyrrha: (Catches Jaune, Holds him) Jaune! You need to stop! You're addicted to dad jokes!
Jaune: I used to be addicted to the hokey-pokey, too! But then I (Judo flips Pyrrha) TURNED MYSELF AROUND! (Runs)
Pyrrha: (Gets up) What does that even mean?
Oscar: That was pretty clever, but the punchline kind of falls flat. See, he didn't actually turn HIMSELF around and-
Yang: HE'S GETTING AWAY! (Chases)
Ozpin: (Enters warehouse) Ready yourselves, everyone... There's no telling what he has planned.
Jaune: (Echoing through the warehouse) YOU GUYS WANNA HEAR A JOKE ABOUT CONSTRUCTION?
Yang/Pyrrha/Oscar: NO!
Jaune: THAT'S FINE. I'M STILL... WORKING ON IT~!
Yang: Oh, that son of a...!
Oscar: I didn't think it could get this bad! How did this even happen?
Jaune: YOU COULD CALL IT A CHICKEN AND EGG SITUATION...
Pyrrha: As in... which came first?
Jaune: I'LL LET YOU KNOW; I JUST ORDERED BOTH FOR DINNER~!
Yang/Pyrrha/Oscar: (Groan)
Ozpin: YOU SUCK!
Oscar: We need to stop him! If we don't, then the dad jokes will spread to the rest of us! It's the most widely believed fact in history!
Ozpin: We can't let that happen...
Pyrrha: Should I use lethal force?
Oscar: Only if you have to-
Ozpin: Yes. Absolutely.
Yang: Hang on. What if... What if we lure him out by fighting fire with fire? Kill the dad joke by ruining the punchline. Follow my lead.
Yang: What do you call cheese you don't own?
Yang: NOT! YOUR! CHEESE!
Jaune: UUUGH...
Pyrrha: Oh, uh, I had a pencil with two erasers! It... didn't write very good.
Jaune: (Drops down) It was pointless! POINTLESS! COME ON!
Ozpin: GRAB HIM!
Jaune: (Tackled by Oscar and Yang) Rgh! Did- Did you know I could cut down a tree with only my vision? It's true! I SAW IT WITH MY OWN EYES! I tried to catch the fog, BUT I MIST! I used to hate facial hair, BUT THEN IT GREW ON ME!
Oscar: Don't listen to him! It'll spread!
Jaune: Can one bird make a pun? No, BUT TOUCAN~! HAHAHAHAHA~! (Dragged away by Oscar)
Pyrrha: ...
Yang: This... This is for the best, Pyrrha. (Pats, Walks away)
Pyrrha: ...
Pyrrha: Heh... Toucan~.
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physicallyimprobable · 2 days ago
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I'm actually going to push back against that second chart; I think you got the horizontal axis entirely wrong. Rather than barge in with my chart, I'll start by describing what the axes mean to me:
"Magic from Inside You" and "Magic from Outside You" are the easiest to define, although not 100% obvious from their names. This axis is about whether or not enacting your magic involves tools, reagents, or other things that are not a part of You. (Within reason, of course; even the most self-contained sorceress will need, like, oxygen to breathe.) Wizards and sorcerers can cast spells with nothing but their minds and bodies, although staves and wands can help streamline the process. In contrast, a witch requires ingredients and ley lines, and a warlock requires the help of its patron.
(Quick sidenote: warlocks shouldn't really be on this image; they are the same sort of thing that a cleric is, namely a Devout (that's just the term, no actual devotion is required). The correct term for a Mage in that quadrant is "thaumaturge". Or sometimes "alchemist". Look, words are complicated.)
The other axis, "Let the Magic Do Its Thing" vs "Control the Magic", is a bit more tricky, so it's easy to get it backward like the raccoon has. By "letting it do its thing" we mean describing the world, making observations, and using our knowledge to our advantage. By "controlling it" we mean trying to create new things which were not in the world before and using those things to our advantage.
(This axis is most of what the notorious @evilwizard was alluding to in his explanation: "if the universe is an ocean, magic is like the tides. witches, being wise, sail in the direction the tide is flowing—wizards, being far too clever to be wise, sail directly against the tide, just to see what happens".)
This axis is easiest to see in the witch-alchemist dichotomy: While both make potions, a witch's potions will use ingredients and materials from magical (or mundane) fauna and flora. As soon as you start saying "I've found that the active ingredient in Eye of Newt is scilopizzolafosyne and synthesized a more concentrated form" you're crossing over into alchemist territory.
Alright, enough waffling. Here's the image; further elaboration will be below the cut.
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A quick summary of the image, for those in a hurry or those with screen readers: The upper left quadrant, "Magic from Inside You" and "Let the Magic Do Its Thing" (corresponding to sorcery) contains Mathematician and Sociologist. The upper right quadrant, "Magic from Inside You" and "Control the Magic" (corresponding to wizardry) contains Philosopher and Psychologist and Biologist. The lower left quadrant, "Magic from Outside You" and "Let the Magic Do Its Thing" (corresponding to witchcraft) contains Physicist and Archaeologist and Historian. The lower right quadrant, "Magic from Outside You" and "Control the Magic" (corresponding to thaumaturgy) contains Engineer and Computer Scientist and Chemist.
I'm not gonna go over all eleven dots, but I'll at least go over the four from the raccoon's image.
We'll start with Mathematician, since it is closest to my heart. (Grad school is going pretty well, by the way; I've got a paper mostly written. It's about counting.) Mathematicians are the second most Inside You of all the sciences, beaten out only by Philosophers. While mathematics is certainly sometimes helped by a computer, basically all of it can be done with a pen and paper and patience, and most of it can be done with no materials at all.
What's more interesting is the horizontal axis: Do mathematicians Let the Magic Do Its Thing or do they Control the Magic? The answer is both, all the time. It is the interplay between these that allow mathematics its power; math is about creating/finding a system (Control the Magic) and then exploring its implications (Let the Magic Do Its Thing). I'd say that it just barely has more exploring than creation, so I've put it as a sorcery. It is, however, often wizardry.
Next let's do Biologist. This was the hardest one to place, since biology is such an expansive field. I decided to include, like, medicine, which pretty squarely pulls it into the Control the Magic side. There are of course subfields like zoology which would be over on Let the Magic Do Its Thing. I also think it just baaarely sneaks into the Magic from Inside You side, since you are in fact made of biology. The amount of biology you could do without tools is extremely limited, however, so it's more of an honorary inclusion. Honorary wizards, but really kinda thaumaturges, and also often witches. Biologists cover a lot of ground.
Okay, so both of those were actually pretty middling in the horizontal axis. It's understandable that the raccoon flipped them. Not so with out next two.
Physicists are the most Let the Magic Do Its Thing of all the sciences. They do experiments, sure, but the goal of the experiments is just to figure out how the natural world operates. The job of Physicists is not to create new physical laws, it is to describe the laws that already exist and their implications. The raccoon might have been thinking of Engineers, which do in fact create new things out of physics, and so are firmly on the side of Control The Magic. Engineers are thaumaturges, Physicists are witches.
As for Chemists, there's a real easy explanation for why they belong on Control the Magic: Chemists are not witches, they are alchemists. They create new things all the time, synthesize new compounds, use reagents to create crazy effects. Sure, they are more similar to witches than to warlocks, but (as I pointed out before) warlocks are not the thing you should be thinking of for the lower right quadrant. Chemists are alchemists which are like a kind of thaumaturge.
Alright that's uh. Almost a thousand words of my take on the classification of Mages. Please let me know if you agree or disagree or just think this stuff is cool. It is near the end of the semester and I could use some validation.
Also like, if your field is a dot that's not on here (or a subfield of a dot that is) I'd love to hear about where you would place it. I know that going forward I will hold "I am a wizard sorceress" close to my heart, and I hope this system can spark a similar joy in you.
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actuallymoon · 1 day ago
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I’ve just started Mo Dao Zu Shi (MDZS), and it is HILARIOUS. Wei Wuxian is a sarcastic diva. He’s out here living his best chaotic life, enjoying every minute in the body of someone already labeled as a “lunatic”. Like he literally admits to liking the fact that he can finally act the way he wanted without toning down his personality. I’m only on Chapter 3, but I’ve already taken so many screenshots of scenes that made me laugh.
This one is my favourite so far:
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When I tell you I HOLLERED 😭😭😭 This man has been falsely accused of MURDERING HIS COUSIN. His aunt wants him dead, and yet what’s he worried about? His nonexistent love life. I approve of his priorities; go get some dick Mr. Xuanyu.
What makes this even funnier is how Wei Wuxian just completely flips the script on those who abused him. Just for being gay, he was labeled a “deviant” by those around him, ostracized, and ridiculed. Now, he’s fully embracing that stereotype of him being "a sexual predator" and using it as a weapon. “Oh, I’m the shameless one? Let’s talk about how you went into my bedroom at night, knowing that I'm a crazy gay person that harasses men.” Sir, the pettiness is unparalleled.
This moment is pure gold because it captures how Wei Wuxian thrives is already leaning into his role as the “lunatic” with zero shame, and honestly, I love that for him. He’s not just finally being himself and enjoying it; he’s out here making everyone else regret ever crossing him. King behavior.
Another scene I like is this:
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Okay, first of all, Jin Ling, relax. Why are you out here throwing casual homophobia around like confetti? Not only that, but he's trying SO HARD to act tough and superior while he's the one pinned to the damn ground. Jin Ling also uses the "I'm going to tell on you" threat and expects us to take him seriously. Sir, sit down (oh wait, he's already sat 🤭).
Wei Wuxian doesn’t even dignify this insult with a serious response. Instead, he clutches his chest like the dramatic little twink he is and hits Jin Ling with the most insincere reaction possible.
What makes this scene so funny is how Wei Wuxian effortlessly dismantles Jin Ling’s bravado. This kid is trying so hard to act threatening, but Wei’s over-the-top sarcasm completely undercuts him. It’s like he’s saying, “Oh no, not the scary homophobic teenager! Whatever shall I do?!” And the clutching-his-heart move? That’s just the cherry on top. Like, Jin Ling honey, at least try to be clever with your insults.
In summary, I already love Wei Wuxian. They could NEVER make me hate him. I can’t wait to see how much more chaos he causes as the story progresses.
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ivan-fyodorovich-k · 3 months ago
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About ten years ago it seemed like the dominant paradigm around people I knew who chose pets over children was that they didn't want the responsibility of human children and pets were easier / less pressure
Then about five years ago I noticed a shift where having pets was actually the morally superior option, better for the environment (?), more difficult than human children (??), and ultimately a more merciful choice for the unborn who by virtue of their unbirth would not experience suffering (or anything else, but this is a point for another day), started to see op-eds painting "pet parenthood" as a serious thing that is directly comparable to actual parenthood (just kidding ha ha, unless...?)
But now increasingly I'm seeing things about like, the beauty of self-sacrifice, and you love pets without expecting anything in return, and people have their animals in prams and things and like. . .if you are looking at your pet as a subject to love and respect and for which to sacrifice for 13-18 years with nothing in return, embracing inevitable heartbreak as an inherently beautiful part of the process, spending more on your pet's food than you spend on your own, paying for pet health insurance, pet life insurance, bank accounts for your pet, at some point you need to step back and ask yourself what the hell you are doing
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triglycercule · 3 months ago
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sleep deprived dust can't recognize what's dream and what's real when he goes in and out of consciousness so i think dust is allowed to be incredibly reckless when he's awake but thinks he's in a dream. he will kill whoever passes by him (or attempt to. for him it's an instict to shoot bones anyways.) he will drink 4 bottles of alcohol just because he thinks its just a lucid dream. have incredibly loud conversations with phantom paps because he's asleep so nobody will hear him talk. or just have loud ass breakdowns because again he thinks he's asleep!!! nobody's gonna know what he gets up to in his dreams. and until someone (probably phantom paps) tells him that he's not asleep and this is reality he won't realize until he's done something really reckless
horror is seconds away from exploding dust's skull open with his magic while dust is trying to strangle him and FINALLY phantom paps tells him he's awake and dust snaps out of it. killer is walking around the house with bones sticking out of him like pins on a sewing pattern (casually too. another day in the life for him) and he just asks dust what that was about. dust just gets off of horror and shrugs his shoulders with an idk. and then walks away. this is the 6th time its happened this month
#horror needs to find a way for him to get back at dust for almost killing him#horror IMMEDIATELY booby traps dust's room's door with several fatal traps. and then dust just teleports away to dodge them#horrors incredibly cool bone manipulation power is incredibly underrated. neither dust nor killer can do what he does#when i say people underestimate just how powerful horror is i mean this#he has MANY shows of power where he summons a shitton of bones. or when he's clever and tricky#using tiny bones so his karma can hit the guards more and kill them faster??? GENIUS#granted kist could definitely think of something like that but that doesn't mean horror's a coughing baby#ok back to my original post. i came up with this after doing my little dusttale translation thing#dust is such a fucking asshole during it all istg and i whooped and cheered every time he was a fucking dick#when he doesn't know what to do when in doubt destroy everything you see. what a guy#he'd definitely be a lot smarter than that in real situations but again#he came up with that strategy while he was under the impression that he was in a dream#so i do think this little prick can be quite an unrestrained destructive force when he doesn't know whats real or not#can i just talk more about translated dust because GODDDD he was SO FUCKING COOL IN MAD TIME SERIES I SWEAR#when he plucked floweys petals off him one by one???? and then berated him??? and the nursing home comment??????? fuck i lov him#can you please unspill the spilled blod??? sick ass line. i think he knew from the start he was gonna betray flowey in that one#god i love canon dust so much he's such a sadistic shit. and he likes it. what a freak. HE LIKES IT#the only person he outwardly expressed regret about killing was papyrus. you'd think he'd care more about everyone else but NOPE#or maybe he did in the earlier runs. still doesn't hide from the fact that he was cruel to everyone else. because thats dusttale 4 you#youre on death row and theyve sentenced you to endless torture and then the mtt pulls up#listen man if i were on death row and they were my torturers id let them do whatever. my babies can get back at me for making them suffer#canon horrordust my beloved i love canon horror and dust#idk if killer in this is like totally canon but idc. it's such a funny idea to make him unbothered when he's injured its hilarious#horror and dust's personal little punching bag ✨✨#killer sans#dust sans#horror sans#murder time trio#utmv#tricule hc
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faaun · 11 months ago
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Jack Marsh (2005), Friendship Otherwise - Toward a Levinasian Description of Personal Friendship
#saw carnation lily lily rose by john singer seargent irl today. it was basically at my doorstep all along idk why i never went to see it#it was placed at a corner in the gallery. me and my friend sat down and sketched the paintings of beautiful naked people quite badly. paper#provided by tate britain. she told me about how she couldnt look her boyfriend in the face after a harrowing film about war. when i say the#interview was informal i mean the person who was supposed to be my boss told me let me get you a cider and then he said after#50 years of life he knows people are inherently good and it only takes a little bit of kindness to save this world. he said he tricked#his wife into keeping the baby and then he said he quit his job at a US bank to help people find meaning and in it#he would have liked to find meaning. instead he started climbing with his friends. he said he chews his cigarettes because its a habit from#when he had to hide things from people. the entire time i felt uncomfortable and incredibly enlightened. this is my friends mentor. she has#his pattern of pauses and expletive and penchant for ends-justify-means attitude. i do think im not very clever#but maybe one day i will love you enough to make up for it. i wrote code i dont understand staring at the final error i thought about how#we both thought of how when we're too old to remember the voices of our friends we would like to stand in the pathway of the LHC beam pipe#cut it open and eat light in the freezing cold vacuum (kills you long before radiation will) the invisible puncture wound unfolding dna#back to the start larger than you ever were. you go to heaven once youve been to hell. my friend is in my bed#practicing calculations of eigenvectors by hand and she is uninterested in a visual proof you are uninterested in incompetence#we catch a train this is your kind of burden you tragic hero wincing at that word you only do this because you have to. im the only one#who can. i am a coward in this for the fucking poetry. the visual proofs. the pretty numbers. an architect who was horrible at maths wanted#to be a philosopher and accidentally ended up neck in deep in 70th Error On Visual Studio Code i want to kiss your eyes before we say#goodbye we both know there is no love in the way there should be. I still have your dress in my wardrobe. i hope you make art.#you think im alright head-wise i think you fucking hate me i think ill never be so clever you want me to tell you my idea?#if you wanted more of this world i would have liked to kiss you harder. we cant both be like this. im sorry i cant be with you the whole wa#the love is gone if you have to ask it. his breath catches his eyes feel stiff it is -1.9 kelvin he is near the beam pipe i miss holding#his hand i miss her singing voice i miss his hair and i found the antonym of pain thank you for carrying me home.
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silverwhittlingknife · 2 years ago
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i have a special place in my heart for "show don't tell" storytelling, especially in comic books. comics are a visual medium!
#tim drake#jack drake#comic ref in description#this is the last panel of the comic#and something i really like about it is that i feel like... it has a certain amount of respect for the reader?#you might not notice/get the irony of the batsignal showing up behind them#and the way the batsignal foreshadows that actually this /isn't/ a resolved happy ending#because the conflict between bruce and jack - and more directly between tim's values/priorities vs. his dad's -#hasn't actually been resolved even though they're both sorry and hugging#which means the conflict will inevitably occur again and again and again#which is a very clever grace note here#but if you don't notice that's okay! the comic isn't panicking trying to spell it out for you#if you catch it it's fine and if you don't catch it that's also fine#it has something that i really like about a lot of older comics and sometimes find missing in new ones (at least the ones abt the blorbos)#which is that it assumes that the /readers/ can realize things abt the situation that the /characters/ don't#i read both tim and his dad as both perfectly sincere in this reconciliation - they're caught up in the moment#and physically neither of them can see the batsignal#but we-the-readers can see both the batsignal and the looming future conflicts it implies even though they don't#the narrative isn't telling you what to think! no character emerged to announce 'But In Fact Tim You Still Have A Problem!'#instead the artist has just left the batsignal there and let you make the obvious inferences ON YOUR OWN#similarly in nightwing 110 (another one of my favorites) there's a conversation between dick and tim where they're both lying#if you're only a nightwing reader you know dick is lying but you probably won't figure out that tim is lying (or at least not the extent)#but if you /do/ read tim's comics then you understand what's going on in a way that neither of the characters do#there's just a general understanding that the characters are not fully self-aware nor do they perfectly understand each other#plus the gradual / slow-build / layered conflict#tim's mixed loyalties between bruce and his dad are a constant background slow burn tension#dick's complicated feelings about loving tim but also feeling a little threatened by him are also a low-key thread in the nightwing comics#the writers don't need to have a surprise! sudden! fight! nor do they need all-fluff-all-the-time#instead these tensions are mostly dormant except when they get exacerbated by extreme situations#there are plenty of things that 90s comics do *not* handle well but the character voices and longform style always draw me back <3
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supjello · 8 months ago
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chimney begins...... chimney begINNSSSSSSSS
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lovecuprite · 16 days ago
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Ft. Ayato ノ Alhaitham ノ Wanderer ノ Childe ノ Wriothesley ノ Neuvillette
sum: things you do that unintentionally turn them on. wc: 14k - roughly 2k - 2.5k per part
contains: fempovノpnv (unprotected), creampie, (protected in alhaitham's), oral (reader givingノreceiving), fingering, come swallowing, handjob in wrio's, mentions of pregnancy/breeding kink in ayato's, out in the open for wanderer's but not caught, 69 in neuvillette's + he carries you
a/n: i liked this until i didn't, which is awkward :')
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જ⁀ when he loses to you in a debate - 2k
It felt like the hundredth time that day you’d torn his argument to pieces, your words sharp and precisely calculated. Alhaitham leaned back, eyeing you with a narrowed gaze as he re-evaluated every point you made, searching desperately for a flaw. But there wasn’t one—and that infuriated him.
He was accustomed to being the sharpest mind in the room, to dissecting others’ logic with ease. Yet here you were, dismantling his points without breaking a sweat, meeting him step for step. It should have annoyed him beyond measure. And yet…
His pulse quickened, and he could feel his focus drifting, thoughts derailing as you delivered yet another rebuttal with a slight, victorious curl of your lips. There was a fire in your eyes, a self-assurance that both irritated and exhilarated him, pulling him into an awareness that had little to do with intellectual sparring.
He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering over you, from the determined glint in your eyes to the way your lips formed around each sharp, defiant word. His jaw clenched, and he felt that familiar frustration morph into something else, something darker, something primal.
“Nothing to say?” you prodded with a smug smile, savouring your apparent win. “That’s not like you, Alhaitham.��
His eyes darkened. For a second, the composed mask slipped, and the heat simmering beneath flickered to the surface. “I could argue,” he replied, his voice low, dangerously calm. “But it seems you’re enjoying this far too much.”
The bitterness in his voice was laced with something else, something unwilling—an almost grudging respect. You’d pushed him to the edge, stripped him of his usual control, and a part of him both resented and admired your nerve. But there was no denying it: you were driving him insane.
A charged silence hung between you, and he felt it—the heat radiating from your body, the steady rhythm of your breath, so close he could feel it. His own thoughts had scattered, leaving him with nothing but the ache of desire he was no longer able to ignore. Alhaitham stood taller, his expression hardening as his gaze settled on your lips, then drifted back to meet your eyes.
“You’re insufferable,” he murmured, his voice roughened by tension. But the bite was gone from his tone, replaced by something unspoken, something magnetic.
Suddenly, he moved, his body pressing you back against the bookshelf, his hands bracketing you, and every other word disappeared from his mind. He leaned in, his breath a hot whisper in your ear. “You think you’re so clever,” he said, his fingers tracing along your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze, “always knowing just what to say to get under my skin.”
You felt his other hand slide down, coming to rest on your hip as he drew you closer. Every inch of his lean frame was now flush against you, his erection pressing insistently through the layers between you. The last of his restraint was slipping, replaced by a raw intensity that left no space for pretences.
His lips grazed along your neck, each touch sending a shudder of heat through you as his breath came hot and uneven while he slipped a hand under your shirt, fingers trailing possessively over skin that was bare. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he whispered, his voice low and inviting against your neck. “Pushing me, daring me. Now, let’s see just how far you can go.”
In a single, bruising kiss, he claimed your mouth, his hands now exploring the lines and curves of your body with a feverish hunger, mapping out every reaction he’d managed to draw from you. His kiss was fierce and commanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he tasted every inch of you, unravelling the last threads of your composure.
With one swift movement, he spun you around, pressing your front against the bookshelf. A few books tumbled from the shelves, forgotten in the heat building between you as he leaned in, his mouth brushing against your shoulder, his voice low and dark. “Tell me you want this,” he whispered, rough with need, his hand slipping under the hem of your skirt, fingertips trailing against your skin. “All this time, getting under my skin… has it been driving you mad, too?”
Alhaitham’s hand slipped beneath your skirt, fingers brushing against the warmth radiating through the thin damp fabric of your underwear. A quiet groan escapes him, a sound rough with desire, as he felt your wetness, his own anticipation building with every heartbeat.
"You're so fucking wet for me already," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. His fingers slip under the fabric, sliding through your slick folds. "All this time, you've been getting off on our arguments, haven't you? Getting yourself all worked up, imagining me bending you over and fucking you in my office."
He circles your clit with his thumb, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. His other hand grips your hip, holding you steady as he works you over with his skilled fingers.
"I bet you've touched yourself thinking about me," he continues, his words filthy and raw. "Imagined my cock splitting you open, making you moan my name.”
“Shut up, you talk too much-” you mumble.
Alhaitham chuckles darkly at your mumbled plea, his fingers still working between your legs. "No no-. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me how much you need my cock."
He thrusts two fingers deep inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that makes your knees weak. His thumb rubs tight circles around your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.
"Come on, angel. Use that clever tongue of yours for something other than arguing with me. Beg for it."
His other hand slides up under your shirt, roughly palming one of your breasts. He pinches your nipple, a gasp falling from your lips.
"Or maybe you'd rather I stop altogether? Leave you here, dripping and desperate, with nothing to satisfy you but your own fingers?"
He slows his movements, letting the threat hang in the air. Your hips buck back against him, seeking more friction, more pressure. You're so close, and yet he holds all the power to send you over.
"What's it gonna be, sweetheart? You gonna be a good girl and tell me what you want?”
"Please, need it-"
Alhaitham's fingers still inside you at your breathy plea, your desperate words sending a thrill through him. He leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks, "There we go.”
He pulls his fingers out slowly, teasingly. You whimper at the loss, your hips pushing back, seeking to be filled again.
"Ah ah," he tuts, his hand resting on your ass. "Patience. You'll get what you need.”
He steps back, leaving you bent over the bookshelf and aching for him. He undoes his belt, along with the zipper. He approaches his desk drawer, rummaging through before he settles back behind you. You hear the crinkle of foil, the snap of latex, and then the head of his cock teasing your entrance.
Alhaitham runs it along your slit, teasing you with the promise of what’s to come. He drags the tip through your folds, covering himself in your sticky arousal.
"Look at you, wanting it so badly," he taunts, his voice a low growl.
He pushes forward, just the tip breaching you, stretching you open. Your walls flutter around him, trying to draw him in deeper.
"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" He chuckles darkly, slowly sinking into your heat inch by excruciating inch.
He bottoms out inside you, his hips flush against your ass. He pauses, letting you adjust to his size, savouring the feel of your tight walls clenching around him.
"Fuck, you feel incredible," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips.
He starts to move, slow and deep, each thrust deliberate and purposeful. He angles his hips, hitting that spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyes.
"That's it-" he encourages, his voice rough with pleasure. "Take my cock like the good girl you are."
His hand snakes around to your front, finding your clit. He rubs tight circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.
Alhaitham sets a deep, punishing pace, his hips snapping against your ass with each thrust. The bookcase rocks under the force of his movements; books tumble to the floor, forgotten in the heat of the moment.
He leans over you, a hand closing on your hip as his cock drives into you relentlessly, hitting that spot deep inside that makes your toes curl.
He picks up the pace, fucking into you harder and faster now, chasing his own release. Skin slapping against skin fills the room with an obscene sound, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.
He buries his face in your neck, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he pounds into you, lost in the feeling of your hot, wet walls clenching around him.
His fingers closed tight around your hips, pinning you down as he thrust with a fervour that made you cling to the bookshelf. “Fuck, I’m close-" he groaned, his voice thick with restraint. And just when you thought he’d let go, he pulled away, leaving you empty and aching, the heat between you simmering in the air. 
Before you could protest, he spun you around, lifting you onto the edge of his desk. He pushes your legs apart, settling between your thighs once more.
"Wanna’ see your face," he growls, his voice rough with desire.
He lines himself up, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock. Then, with one swift thrust, he's buried inside you again, filling you completely.
He sets a brutal pace, fucking into you with wild abandon. The desk creaked beneath you with each powerful thrust, papers slipping off in a messy cascade to the floor.
He pressed into you, his weight grounding you in place as his lips found yours in a fierce, consuming kiss that left you breathless. When he finally broke away, his mouth traced a heated path down your neck, lips and teeth grazing over your skin, each touch both a promise and a tease. His hips never stop moving, pounding into you with a frenzied energy.
"Come for me," he demands, his voice a harsh whisper against your ear. "I want to feel you come apart on my cock."
He reaches between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit. He rubs in tight, fast circles, the added stimulation sending you spiralling towards the edge.
Your walls start to flutter, Your breaths are fast and uneven, your body trembling, teetering just on the edge. “Come on,” he murmured, his movements growing less controlled, more desperate, as he felt his own resolve slipping. “Let go… let me feel you.”
With a final, brutal thrust, he sends you flying over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of intense pleasure washing through your body. You cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders as you ride out the aftershocks.
Alhaitham follows shortly after, his cock pulsing inside you as he finds his own release. He buries his face in your neck, muffling his groan against your skin.
You both collapse onto the desk, panting and spent, bodies still joined in the aftermath of your passionate encounter.
"Maybe we should have debates more often...." you joke breathlessly.
"Only if it ends like this." he mutters tirelessly as he leans in, his lips meeting yours.
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જ⁀ when you argue with him - 2.5k
“Do you ever think before you act?” you snapped, standing so close to Childe that the heat radiating from him matched your own.
His jaw tightened, and he leaned in, voice rising to meet yours. “Don’t lecture me about thinking ahead! If you’d just trusted me for once, we wouldn’t even need a backup plan!”
“Trust you?” You let out a harsh, bitter laugh, meeting his glare without flinching. “How am I supposed to trust you when you treat this like some game? People could have gotten hurt, Childe! This isn’t just your reckless thrill.”
He scoffed, but something in his eyes softened, though it was quickly swallowed by the intensity burning there. "You think I take this lightly? It’s so damn frustrating to have you question every move I make."
You took another step closer, your heart beating faster as the air between you grew heavier, alive with unspoken tension. "I question your moves because they're reckless, Childe. Because you act like you're the only one who matters!
"That's what you think?" he growled, his voice was low and furious. "That I don't care what happens to the people around me?"
For a moment, there was something raw in his eyes—open and wounded—but you pushed the feeling aside, refusing to let him derail you. "You say you care, but you're so caught up in your ego that you can't see past your own reflection.".
"Ego?" He snorted, but his eyes were wild, almost electric, and he leaned in closer to you, the space between you evaporating. "You're one to talk! Acting like you know everything, like I can't do a single thing out there without you hovering over my shoulder."
“Because I have to! If I don’t, you’d—” Your voice wavered as you became acutely aware of just how close he was, his face inches from yours. His eyes flickered down to your lips, lingering for the faintest beat before they snapped back to meet yours.
And that’s when it struck you—his cheeks were flushed, his gaze burning with something more than just anger. The tension between you wasn’t just frustration; there was a heat simmering beneath it all, sparking like a fuse, and you could feel it as clearly as the breath between you.
This wasn’t just anger. The challenge, the fight, you standing toe-to-toe with him—it had him caught up in something else entirely.
You sucked in a sharp breath, momentarily thrown. “Are… are you enjoying this?” you asked, voice barely a whisper, incredulous.
Childe didn't even try to hide it; his eyes softened, and a smirk played on his lips as he leaned in, his voice low and charged. "Maybe I am," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "Didn't think you had this much fire in you.".
You swallowed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your cheeks. “This isn’t funny, Childe. I’m trying to get through to you, and you’re—”
“Oh, I’m listening,” he cut in, his voice dropping even lower, rougher. “But I can’t help it if seeing you like this… gets me a little fired up.” His eyes gleamed with a challenging spark, as if daring you to push him further, to keep pushing back.
Your breath caught, but you refused to back down, even as you felt the air between you grow thick with an intensity that was no longer just anger. “You’re… unbelievable,” you managed, your voice wavering slightly.
Childe’s smirk deepened, his eyes never leaving yours as he took that final, daring step closer. His hand found your jaw, fingers brushing your skin with a touch that was both gentle and possessive. For a heartbeat, the only sound between you was your own uneven breathing as his gaze flicked once more to your lips, lingering there.
“I’m unbelievable, am I?” he murmured, voice barely a breath, but carrying enough intensity to make your pulse race even faster.
"I-"
Before you could respond, his lips met yours with a raw intensity that sent a jolt through you. The kiss was anything but restrained—urgent, almost desperate, as if he’d been holding back for far too long and was finally letting go. His fingers tightened around your jaw, his other hand slipping to your waist to pull you in close, eliminating any trace of space between you.
You matched his intensity, pressing back just as fiercely, your hands finding his shoulders and gripping tight as you poured every ounce of pent-up frustration, tension, and maybe something more into the kiss. The world around you seemed to blur, fading into nothing as his lips moved against yours with an urgency that left you breathless.
Childe groaned low in his throat, the sound sending shivers down your spine. He broke away from your mouth just long enough to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, teeth grazing your sensitive skin. "You drive me crazy," he growled against your throat, his voice rough with need. "Always questioning me, always pushing back. It's fucking hot."
His hands glide along your sides, lifting your shirt in one fluid motion and discarding it as his eyes roamed over you, dark with desire. He paused just briefly, letting the sight of you linger, before his mouth found you again, tracing the curves of your chest with lips and tongue, his fingers deftly working to free you from your bra.
You arched into his touch, head falling back as pleasure sparked through you. Your own hands worked frantically at his clothes, desperate to feel his skin against yours. "Ajax," you gasped out, your voice breathy and wanton. "Please..."
He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Please what?" he murmured, nipping at your collarbone. "I wanna hear you say it."
You swallowed hard, your mind hazy with desire. "I want you," you managed, your voice trembling. "I want you to fuck me, please-”
He captured your lips in another searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless. His hands slid down to grip your ass, pulling you harder against his already hard cock. You could feel the heat of him even through the layers of clothing that still separated you.
"I need you," Childe rasped against your lips, his hips rolling against yours in a slow grind. "Right fucking now."
He guided you back until your legs hit the edge of the bed, the heated kiss unbroken. He slid down on top of you in one fluid motion, pressing you down onto the bed as he moved with you, pinning you under him, his eyes dark and intense as he took you in. His chest rose and fell with a few heavy breaths as he steadied himself.
"This is your last chance to back out," he whispered, his voice low and rough-edged. "Because once I start, I won't stop until I've had every bit of you."
Your eyes met his, soft and misty with anticipation as the unspoken answer hung in the charged space between you.
"I don't want you to stop," you breathed, reaching up to pull him down into another kiss. "I want everything you've got-"
With a feral growl, his hands made quick work of the remaining barriers between you. Childe's fingers hooked into your waistband and yanked your trousers and panties down in one swift motion. His eyes darkened as he drank in the sight of you, splayed out beneath him, completely bare. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," he growled, his voice rough with desire.
He settled between your thighs, the heat of his bare skin against your most sensitive parts making you gasp. His fingers trailed teasingly along your inner thighs, brushing maddeningly close to where you needed him most.
"Please," you whimpered, arching your hips in search of more friction. "Ajax, I need-"
“Shh,” he whispered, brushing a finger softly over your lips. "Just relax… let me take care of you." His voice was just a lulling hum, low and comforting.
He lowered his head and traced a slow, tantalising path up your inner thigh with his tongue, each inch a deliberate tease. A shiver coursed through you, your fingers clutching the sheets as he inched closer to your core, building anticipation with every lingering touch.
When his tongue finally ran along your slit, you cried out, your back bowing off the bed. His tongue swirled around your clit, lapping at you with a hunger that bordered on feral. Two fingers pushed inside you, stretching and filling you in the most delicious way.
"That's it, let me hear you," Childe growled against your skin, his words sending vibrations straight to your core. "Fuck, you taste so good. I could eat this sweet little pussy all day."
He worked you relentlessly, his fingers curling inside you just right, his tongue flicking mercilessly over your clit. It wasn’t long before you were teetering on the edge, thighs trembling around him as your fingers tangled desperately in his hair.
His mouth moved over you with a hungry intensity, each slow, deliberate stroke of his tongue sending sparks racing through you, making your hips roll instinctively to meet his every movement.
Your arousal slicked his lips and chin as he held you close, his fingers working in tandem, pressing into you and curling just right to reach that deep, electric spot that made you lose all sense of restraint. The pleasure built steadily, his every touch pushing you closer to the point of no return, your entire body drawn taut in anticipation.
The obscene sounds of his mouth on your pussy, the squelch of his fingers inside you, the filthy slurps and moans he made as he ate you out - it was almost too much to bear.
He groaned against your folds, the vibrations making you buck and writhe beneath him. His free hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, pinning you in place as he kept up his relentless assault on your clit.
Your thighs were shaking violently as your muscles tensed and coiled tight with your approaching orgasm. Childe sensed it too, doubling his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit as he finger-fucked you harder, faster.
"Come for me, baby," he commanded, his voice muffled against your soaked folds. "Let me feel you come undone on my tongue. Fucking soak me, baby.”
With a hoarse cry, you shattered, your body convulsing as wave upon wave of searing pleasure washed over you. Your pussy clamped down on his fingers, your arousal slick on his chin, dripping down onto the sheets beneath him.
Childe groaned low in his throat, lapping at your release as if it were the finest ambrosia, wringing the last drop of pleasure from your body until you lay still beneath him.
He slowly pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your essence. He licked his lips, savouring your taste with a satisfied hum. “Tastes so fucking sweet.”
He crawled up your body, settling between your thighs once more. You could feel the hard length of his cock pressing insistently against your entrance, making you clench with anticipation.
"I need to be inside you," Childe growled, his voice strained with need. "Need to feel this tight little cunt squeezing my cock."
He reached down, gripping himself and rubbing the swollen head of his cock through your slick folds. You whimpered, your hips canting up, trying to force him inside.
"Please," you begged, your voice wrecked and desperate. "Ajax, I need you. Need you so fucking bad."
With a low groan, he pushed forward, sinking into your wet heat inch by inch. You both moaned at the sensation, your walls stretching to accommodate his impressive girth.
"Fuck, you're so tight," Childe panted, his hips rolling in shallow thrusts as he let you adjust to him. "Feels so good, baby. So fucking good."
Once you'd both adjusted, he started to move, pulling out slowly before snapping his hips forward, burying himself deep inside you. He set a relentless pace, pounding into you with a force that made the bed creak and your body jolt with each powerful thrust.
Childe's hands gripped your ankles, pushing your legs up and back towards your chest, folding you nearly in half. The new angle allowed him to sink even deeper inside you, hitting spots you didn't even know existed.
"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his hips pistoning in and out of you at a brutal pace. "Take it, baby. Take every fucking inch of my cock."
You could do no more than moan incoherently, hands scrabbling at the sheets. The feeling of him so deep inside you, stretching you, filling you, was almost too much to bear.
"You like that, don't you?" Childe panted, strained with exertion.
"Like having me so fucking deep inside you." He punctuated each filthy word with a sharp snap of his hips, driving into you so hard that you swore you could feel him in your throat. Your eyes rolled back, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as another orgasm crashed over you, your walls clamping down around him like a vice.
"Shit, baby," Childe growled, his rhythm faltering as he fought to hold back his own release. "Fuck, you're squeezing me so tight. Gonna- gonna make me cum if you keep doing that."
But you were too far gone to care, too lost in the overwhelming pleasure consuming you. All you could do was hold on for dear life as Childe fucked you through your orgasm, his cock hitting your deepest spots with every thrust, pushing you higher and higher until you were sure you'd black out from the intensity of it all.
Childe's thrusts grew erratic, his fingers digging into your ankles as he chased his own release.
His hips snapped forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt inside you as he found his peak. You felt the hot rush of his cum painting your walls, claiming you from the inside out. 
A low, shuddering groan escaped him as the intensity of his release rippled through his body. And for a long, quiet moment, neither of you moved, basking in the dying warmth and soft haze of satisfaction.
The weight of Childe pressed against you as he lowered your legs back down. His warm breath on your shoulder as he stayed inside of you. He slowly lifted his head, eyes locked with yours. For that one moment, there was something soft in his eyes—something almost tender—the softness he mostly protected.
"You're amazing, you know that?" he muttered, his voice low and warm.
A smile played at your lips as you looked up at him, quiet happiness filling your eyes. "Not too bad yourself," you teased, reaching up to rest your hand against his cheek, your thumb tracing a light path along his jawline. "For a reckless, ego-driven, pain in the ass."
Childe laughed, leaning into your touch with a shameless grin. "I think you meant to say charming, irresistible, and exceptionally skilled in bed," he corrected, a roguish glint firing in his eyes.
"Yeah, maybe that too," you whispered, pulling him into a soft, dragged-out kiss, basking in the wordless connection that ran between you.
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જ⁀ seeing you do domestic things - 2.4k
Ayato leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, his eyes focused on you as you worked. The soft light of the afternoon filtered through the window, casting a warm glow on the scene in front of him. You were humming quietly to yourself as you stirred the pot on the hob, moving with a quiet grace that Ayato could only admire.
It wasn’t just the domesticity of the moment that caught his attention—it was the way you made it look so effortless, the way you fit so naturally into his life, his home. You were already making the space feel like it was your joint space, your presence breathing life into the place, and Ayato found himself growing more and more captivated by the thought of this becoming a permanent reality.
You glanced up, catching him watching you, and a teasing smile tugged at your lips. "Are you just going to stand there and watch me, or are you going to help?"
Ayato stepped forward, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’d rather just watch you, honestly,” he said smoothly, his voice thick with desire. “It’s hard to look away when you make something as simple as cooking look so… irresistible.”
You laughed lightly, but his eyes stayed locked on you, the intensity of his gaze deepening with each passing second. You continued with your work, though something about the way he was looking at you made your pulse quicken.
“What’s on your mind?” you asked, still teasing, but there was an edge of curiosity in your voice.
He moved closer, placing his hands casually on the counter beside you, his body barely separate from yours. “You,” he said bluntly, his voice dropping lower. “Watching you cook, has me thinking about our future together… it’s making it impossible to focus.”
You paused, raising an eyebrow. “A future together?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat at the implication. “Like what?”
Ayato’s lips curled into a confident, knowing smile. “Like this. You, in our home, doing all these wifely things, making our space feel warm and lived-in…” His voice was laced with a quiet heat as he leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear. “I can already see it—us—with kids running around, your laugh filling the halls, hearing the sound of little feet chasing each other.”
The words hit you like a jolt of electricity, and you froze for a moment, feeling his hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer. His chest pressed against yours, and you could feel his heartbeat—a steady rhythm that matched the rapid pace of your own.
Ayato didn’t give you a chance to respond before his lips captured yours in a kiss—slow at first, but quickly turning deeper as his hands slid around to your back, pulling you even closer. His desire was palpable, every movement of his hands speaking louder than his words ever could.
When he pulled back, he was breathing heavily, his hands still on you as he looked down at you with a knowing smile. “I can’t help it,” he murmured, his voice low, almost hoarse. “Seeing you like this, talking about our future… I want it, more than anything. And I want you... right here, right now.” His eyes darkened with desire. “I can’t stop thinking about it—thinking about you.”
You shivered at his words, your chest tightening with anticipation. His boldness, his forwardness—it wasn’t something you were used to seeing from Ayato, and yet in this moment, it made your heart race. You felt the weight of his desire, the rawness of it, and it ignited something in you as well.
He didn’t wait for you to respond, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands sliding along the curves of your body with a sense of urgency. “You’re going to drive me mad if you keep looking at me like that,” he growled. “I can already picture it, I want it all.”
His words were enough to push you over the edge, and without thinking, you pulled him closer, kissing him fiercely, giving into the heat between you. His hands slid to your hips, pulling you up against him as his desire burned hotter.
And as he kissed you with an intensity you hadn’t expected, you realised that this wasn’t just about the moment. It was about the future you were both already imagining together—the family, the home, the life—and Ayato was determined to make that future as real as possible.
The thought of a life together, full of passion, warmth, and the sound of children’s laughter echoing through your shared home, consumed him completely. And as he held you close, he knew he would stop at nothing to make that future a reality.
Ayato's hands slide down your sides, his touch igniting sparks wherever he touches. He breaks the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looks down at you with hooded eyes. "I want you so badly," he murmurs, his voice low and rough with desire. "I want to make you mine in every way possible."
His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he starts to tug it upward, his fingers skimming over the smooth skin of your stomach. You shiver at his touch, arching into him as he leans down to trail kisses along your collarbone.
"I can't wait to see you round with my child," he breathes against your skin, his hand splaying across your belly. "To know that I put them there."
He walks you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the kitchen counter, and with a swift movement, he lifts you onto it, stepping between your parted thighs.
"I'm going to worship every inch of you," he promises, his hands already working to remove your clothes.
The intensity of Ayato's desire is palpable as he stands between your parted thighs, his hands roaming over your body with a hunger that takes your breath away. You can feel the heat of his gaze on your skin as he slowly strips away your clothing, revealing more and more of you to his appreciative eyes.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough with need. "So perfect."
His fingers trace the curve of your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples until they harden under his touch. You gasp, arching into him, craving more of his touch. He obliges, leaning down to take your nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.
You tangle your fingers in his hair, holding him close as he lavishes attention on your breasts. His other hand slides down your stomach.
Ayato's hand slides down your stomach, his fingers dipping teasingly beneath the waistband of your panties. You gasp at the contact, your hips lifting instinctively seeking more of his touch. He chuckles lowly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.
"So eager," he teases, his fingers slipping lower, brushing against your slick folds.
He circles your clit with a feather-light touch, making you whimper and squirm beneath him. Your head falls back against the counter, your eyes fluttering closed as you lose yourself to the sensation of his skilled fingers.
"Please," you breathe, your hips rolling against his hand, seeking more friction.
Ayato obliges, sliding a finger inside you, then another, pumping them in and out of your pussy. Your inner walls clench around him, drawing him deeper.
"That's it, sweetheart," he encourages, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit. "Let me make you feel good."
His fingers curl inside you, hitting that sensitive spot that makes your toes curl. You cry out, your grip on his hair tightening as pleasure courses through your veins.
"You're so tight," he groans, his own arousal evident in the way his hips grind against yours. "I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock."
He adds a third finger, stretching you, preparing you for what's to come. Your body trembles on the edge of release, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.
Ayato's fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your hips buck against his hand, desperate for more friction, more pressure. You can feel your orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.
"That's it, beautiful," Ayato muses, "Look so pretty like this-"
His words, combined with the skillful movements of his fingers, are enough to send you over the edge. Your body tenses, your back arching off the counter as waves of pleasure crash over you. You cry out, your inner walls clenching around Ayato's fingers as you ride out the intense sensations.
Ayato doesn't stop, continuing to work you through your orgasm, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. As you start to come down from your high, he slowly withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips.
"Mmm, you taste so sweet," he murmurs, licking your essence from his fingers. "I could do that forever if you let me."
Before you can catch your breath, he's removing his own clothes, not taking long to reveal his hard, throbbing cock.
"Need to be inside you-" he groans, his hands gripping your hips. "Need to feel you wrapped around me."
He steps between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging against your slick entrance.
Ayato slowly pushes into you, his cock stretching you deliciously. You moan at the sensation of being filled, your walls clenching around him. He groans at the tight heat enveloping him, his hips pressing forward until he's fully seated inside you.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he breathes, his forehead resting against yours. "So perfect."
He starts to move, his hips rocking against yours in a slow, deep rhythm. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, stoking the embers of your desire once more.
Ayato's movements are slow and deliberate, each thrust designed to bring you maximum pleasure. His hands roam over your body, caressing every curve and dip as he loses himself in the feel of you.
"I love you," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you so much."
His words, coupled with the tender way he makes love to you, bring tears to your eyes. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing to feel every inch of him.
"Show me," you whisper, your hands tangling in his hair. "Show me how much you love me."
Ayato's response is to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth as he continues to move within you. The kiss is slow and sensual, a reflection of the intimate act you're sharing.
"I'll always love you," he vows against your lips. "Always."
As he speaks, his thrusts become more urgent, more passionate. You can feel the coil of pleasure building once more in your core, your body responding to his every move.
Ayato's thrusts become more urgent, more passionate, as he loses himself in the feel of you. But even as he chases his own pleasure, his mind is filled with thoughts of the future, of the life you'll build together.
"I want this," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "I want us, together, forever. I want to wake up next to you every morning, to come home to you every night."
His hand slides down to your stomach, pressing gently against the soft skin. "I want to see you round with my child, to watch you grow and change as our family grows."
The thought sends a shiver of excitement through you, and you cling to him tighter, your hips meeting his thrust for thrust. “I want that too-”
Ayato's response is a low growl, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin as he pounds into you, chasing his release.
Ayato's thrusts grow more urgent, more demanding, as he chases his climax. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he drives into you, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with every stroke.
"I'm close," he grunts, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I want to fill you up, to mark you as mine."
His words send a thrill through you, and you clench around him, urging him on. "Yes," you gasp, "Please-"
With a final, powerful thrust, Ayato buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he spills his cum deep inside you. The sensation of his hot release triggers your own orgasm.
As Ayato empties himself inside you, your walls clench and flutter around his cock, milking him for every last drop. Your body trembles with the force of your orgasm, waves of pleasure crashing over you as your juices gush around his length, coating his shaft and dripping down your thighs.
"Fuck, yes," Ayato groans, his hips twitching as he feels your release, his hips grinding against yours as he rides out the waves of pleasure. "Take it all, baby. Take all of me."
He continues to thrust shallowly, drawing out your climax, his own cock pulsing with aftershocks. Your inner walls ripple around him, squeezing him tightly as you ride out the intense sensations.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice low and appreciative. "So perfect, like you were made for me, weren't you?"
As the last waves of pleasure subside, Ayato leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue delves into your mouth, tasting you, claiming you as his own. You moan into the kiss, your arms winding around his neck, pulling him closer.
The kiss is slow and sensual, a reflection of the intimate act you've just shared. Ayato's hands roam over your body, caressing your curves, your skin still slick with sweat.
"I love you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you so much."
You smile against his mouth, your heart swelling with love and contentment. "I love you too," you whisper back. "Always and forever."
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જ⁀ when you take care of him - 1.9k
Wriothesley leaned back against the pillows, a picture of reluctant vulnerability—a rare sight, his usual sharp confidence dulled by the grip of a stubborn cold. He’d fought tooth and nail to convince you he didn’t need anyone fussing over him, but his protests had crumbled under your firm insistence. So now, he was stuck with you at his bedside, his gruff pride no match for your stubborn resolve.
You place a tray alongside him, holding soup, and a few other remedies. "Alright, let's get you sorted," you said, scooping up a spoonful of broth and extending it toward him.
He looked back at you, his brow furrowed with stubborn defiance, but you only hitched an eyebrow in silence.
He let out a long, aggrieved sigh and grumbled under his breath before he leaned forward and took the spoonful, holding it longer in his mouth than was really necessary, his eyes latched onto yours. His cheeks already flushed with fever, coloured a fraction darker, but he acted like he didn't notice.
"See? That wasn't so bad," you teased your voice soft as you reached up to sweep a stray lock of hair from his forehead.
His jaw clenched, and he cleared his throat, looking away as if the ceiling had suddenly become fascinating. Something about the way you touched him-so gentle, so deliberate-had him feeling unstably off-balance.
His pulse raced, a heat coiling low in his stomach, that left an evident reaction under the blankets that he desperately tried to will away. Mortified by his reaction, he reached for a cushion and shifted it onto his lap, with forced nonchalance.
"You don't need to babysit me," he grumbled, his voice hoarse, and he refused to meet your gaze. "I'll be alright. You've got much more important things to attend to."
“Oh, nice try,” you replied with a wry smile, holding another spoonful toward him. “You’re stuck with me until I’m satisfied that you’re actually resting. So stop pretending you’re not secretly grateful.”
His lips parted, but whatever retort he’d planned died on his tongue as he met your gaze. There was no teasing in your eyes now, only a quiet tenderness that made his chest tighten. You cared-truly-and it was overwhelming in a way he hadn't anticipated.
"Why are you doing all this?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, giving away a flicker of something unguarded.
You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over the skin that flushed there. "Because you deserve it," you said, so simply. "Even if you're too stubborn to admit it."
He inhaled sharply, his hold on the cushion tightening as the touch of your hand warmed through him and sent a jolt of something far from comforting through him. His mind was racing as the tension betrayed his attempts to keep composed. The hell is wrong with him? He thought. This isn't supposed to feel like… this.
But you noticed. The way his jaw tensed, the subtle shift under the blankets—it was impossible to miss. A mischievous spark lit up in your eyes, and you leaned in just a fraction closer.
“Wrio,” you murmured, your tone laced with playful curiosity. “Are you… turned on right now?”
His head whipped toward you, his wide eyes betraying his panic. “What—no! I mean… maybe? Fuck, I don’t know,” he stammered, running a hand through his hair, clearly flustered.
You bit back a grin, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. “Aww,” you cooed, your voice teasing. “The big, tough Warden, all flustered over a little care? How adorable.”
“Shut up,” he growled, his face burning crimson as he glared at you—though the heat in his gaze betrayed something far less menacing. "It's not like that."
"Oh, really?" you said, leaning in closer, your breath ghosting over his skin. "Then what is it like, Wriothesley?"
He swallowed, his eyes darting to yours before dropping again. "It's... it's nothing," he muttered, barely above a whisper. "Just a stupid physical reaction, that's all."
"Mmm, I see," you hummed, reaching out to trace a finger down his jawline. "And by that, what you're trying to tell me is that right now it's not crossing your mind how nice it would feel to be taken care of by someone else? Make you feel better?"
He let out a shaking breath as his eyes darkened to meet yours. "I- I don't." he stammered, words trailing off as he fought for a coherent thought.
"It's alright," you whispered, a small smile on your lips. "I can see it in your eyes, Wriothesley. You want this, don't you? You want me to make you feel good."
His breath hitched, and his chest began to rise and fall more and more rapidly as he stared at you, pupils dilated with arousal. "Yes," he breathed, his voice rough from need. "God, yes, I do."
Your heart was racing, your own desire a mirror of his while you leaned in closer, your lips just inches from his. "Then let me take care of you," you murmured.
He emitted a low groan; his body quivered in anticipation. "Please," he whispered, voice raw with need. "Please, I need you."
You reached underneath the duvet, your fingers tracing over his hot skin, tracing the lines of his toned stomach. He shivered beneath your touch, breathing in short, ragged gasps as you explored his body.
"Fuck," he groaned, his hips bucking up against your hand. "That feels so good."
You smirked, your fingers dipping lower, teasing the waistband of his boxers. "Is that so?" you purred, your eyes glinting with mischief.
As you freed his throbbing cock from the confines of his boxers you couldn't help but marvel at the sight. His cock, thick and hard, proudly standing to attention. A drop of precum glistened from the tip of his cock, his need evident.
You swirled your thumb around the head, smearing the slick fluid and drawing a shudder from Wriothesley. "Mmm, look at you," you purred, low and husky.
He let out a choked noise, eyes fluttering shut as he fisted his hands in the sheets.
"Please," he pleaded, voice raw with need. "Please, touch me."
You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, giving it a slow, firm stroke from base to tip. His cock twitched in your hand, another drop of precum beading at the slit. He bucked against your hand, his hips rocking in time with your movements.
"That's it," you murmured, your thumb swiping over the sensitive head of his cock. "Just relax and let me take care of you."
He nodded, his head falling back against the pillows as he surrendered to your touch. His body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure as you worked him over.
You smirked, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the head of his cock. He shuddered beneath you, his hands fisting in your hair as you licked a slow stripe up his length.
"Mmm, you taste so good," you purred, your tongue swirling around the sensitive tip.
With that, you parted your lips and took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his shaft as you bobbed your head up and down. He let out a strangled cry, his hips thrusting up to meet your movements.
You hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder, taking him deeper, your nose nestling into the hair at the base of his cock. He was throbbing in your mouth, his precum coating your tongue as you worked him over.
"Fuck-" he gasped, voice ragged with pleasure. "Your mouth feels amazing."
You hummed around his shaft, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body.
As you continued to suck and lick at Wriothesley's throbbing cock, your free hand drifted lower, cupping his heavy balls. You rolled them gently in your palm, feeling their weight, savouring the way they twitched at your touch.
Wriothesley let out a low groan, his hips bucking up into your mouth. "Fuck, that feels good," he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure.
You hummed in return, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head of his cock. Your fingers massaged his balls, delicate flesh kneaded as you worked him over.
He was leaking steadily now, his precum coating your tongue as you sucked him deeper. The taste of him filled your senses: musky, masculine. It was intoxicating - your own arousal growing with each passing second.
"God-" he panted, his hands fisting in your hair. "I'm getting close."
You redoubled your efforts, your head bobbing faster as you took him to the back of your throat. Your fingers squeezed his balls, feeling them draw up even tighter as his climax approached.
"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he warned, his voice ragged. "Don't stop, please don't stop."
You moaned around his shaft, the vibrations pushing him over the edge. With one final thrust of his hips, he exploded in your mouth, ropes of cum filling your throat as he cried out in ecstasy.
You swallowed it all, milking him through his orgasm until he was spent and trembling beneath you. Finally, you released him from your mouth, licking your lips as you pulled back.
As Wriothesley came down from his high, you couldn't help but tease him just a little bit more. 
You lightly ran your tongue over the sensitive head of his cock, licking up the last of his release. He shuddered beneath you, his over-sensitive flesh twitching at every light touch.
"Ah!" he gasped, jerking his hips without meaning to. "Too much, I can't—"
You smirked, eyes glinting with mischief as you continued your sweet torment. Your tongue swirled around the tip and he whimpered, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tried to push you away, but you held firm, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from his spent body.
"I could do this all day." you purred, breath hot against his skin.
He let out a strangled laugh, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. "You're a fucking tease," he grumbled, but there was no real heat behind his words.
You smiled, giving the head of his cock one final kiss before releasing him from your mouth. Sitting back, you licked your lips as you took in the view he presented-flush-cheeked, panting, eyes glossed over with satisfaction.
"Someone's gotta take care of you," you murmured, your voice husky. "And I'm more than willing to volunteer for the job."
You leaned down, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to Wriothesley's lips. He sighed into the kiss, his arms coming up to wrap around your waist as he pulled you closer. It was a tender moment, a stark contrast to the heated passion that had come before.
You drew back, staring into his eyes, the warmth and affection glowing within. "How are you feeling?" you asked, softly. Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, and he smiled. His hand came up to overlay yours. "Better," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "Much better, thanks to you."
You leaned in, nuzzling his nose with yours. "I aim to please," you teased, your eyes sparkling merrily.
He chuckled and shook his head in mock exasperation. "You're hopeless" he mumbled, but there was no mistaking the fondness in his tone.
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જ⁀ seeing you wearing his clothes - 2.6k
Neuvillette opened the door, exhaling softly as he stepped into the quiet of his home. After a day full of formalities, courtroom battles, and endless patience, the relief of finally being in his own space was palpable.
He set his coat aside, running a hand through his hair to loosen the constraints of his usually perfect appearance. But as he looked up, whatever was left of his exhaustion was washed clean by the sight of you curled up on the couch in one of his shirts.
You looked up and smiled softly, but the sight of you in his clothes, settled comfortably into his personal space, had him frozen in place. The shirt fell just a little too loose on your frame, sleeves slipping past your wrists, and the hem brushing against your thighs, revealing just enough to spark his desire. The scent of his cologne lingered faintly on the fabric, mingling with your own warmth, making something in him stir deeply.
A glint of intensity appeared in his eyes as he took a slow step forward, watching as your expression shifted, noticing the effect you’d unknowingly had on him. His gaze grew darker, the usual restraint crumbling as he drank in the sight of you in his clothes—his shirt, on you.
“You… have no idea what that does to me,” he murmured, his voice deepening with a possessive edge as he came to stand over you. His eyes roamed slowly from the collar falling off one shoulder to your bare legs curled beneath you.
Before you could respond, he was leaning down, caging you in his arms, his hands gripping the back of the couch as he hovered close, his breath warm against your ear. “It suits you, you know,” he whispered, his voice a blend of softness and possessive heat. “But you know what else? I think I’d rather be peeling it off you.”
His hands slid around your waist, tugging you closer as his lips grazed your neck in a mix of reverence and need. The weariness of his day forgotten, overcome by that fire that urged him to make sure you knew just how much you belonged to him.
"Don't move," he whispered, his voice raw as he pressed you against him. "I need this-
His fingers traced your waist, savouring the feel of soft fabric clinging to your form, but even more so, the sensation of you underneath. You could feel his heartbeat against you, the strong, steady rhythm betraying his calm exterior as his lips found a place on your shoulder- your neck, lingering as if to imprint this moment to memory.
Your hands lightly rested against his chest as he pressed closer, his eyes going dark, unguarded in the display of how far his longing had overcome him. "Every time I come home, I find myself hoping to see you like this," he murmured, voice low and husky. "So close… so undeniably mine.
His eyes, with fierce tenderness, burned as his thumbs brushed against your cheeks, angling your face up to meet his. For a moment longer, his eyes held yours before he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both possessive and fiercely tender.
Neuvillette's hands slid down to your hips, pulling you closer, as his lips moved against yours with a fervour that bordered on desperation. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and when you granted him access, he deepened the kiss, his breath mingling with yours.
"You taste like home," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "Like everything I've ever wanted."
His hands roamed over your body, caressing the curves he knew so well.
His hands slid up your sides, tracing the hem of the shirt as it brushed against your thighs. "You look so beautiful like this, so perfectly mine."
He leaned in, nuzzling your neck, inhaling deeply. "I want to make love to you, right here, with you wearing nothing but my shirt."
His hands slipped under the fabric, caressing your skin, his touch igniting sparks of desire wherever he touched.
Neuvillette's hands slid under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he claimed your mouth in another searing kiss. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer, deepening the kiss.
He carried you towards the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours, his hands gripping your thighs possessively. When he reached the bed, he laid you down gently, his body covering yours, his weight pressing you into the mattress.
"You drive me wild," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire. "Seeing you in my shirt, wearing my scent... it's almost too much to bear."
His hands slid under the shirt, caressing your skin, his touch igniting sparks of desire wherever he touched. He trailed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point, making you gasp.
"I need you," he growled, his voice rough with need. "I need to be inside you, to claim you, to make you mine in every way possible."
His hands slipped under your shirt, pushing it up to expose your breasts. He dipped his head, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing until it hardened under his touch. His other hand slid between your legs, his fingers finding your folds, teasing you slowly.
Neuvillette's lips closed around your nipple, his tongue swirling and flicking against the sensitive bud. His hand continued to stroke you, his fingers teasing your folds, dipping inside you slowly.
He could feel your breath hitching, your body arching into his touch. He released your nipple with a soft pop, blowing cool air over the wet skin, making you shiver.
"Look at you," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "So responsive, so beautiful."
His hand slid up your body, pushing the shirt higher, exposing more of your skin. He kissed a trail up your sternum, his lips brushing the underside of your chin before capturing your mouth in another deep, passionate kiss.
His fingers continued their teasing dance between your legs, stroking and circling, building the tension within you. He could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, your body begging for more.
"Tell me how I can please you." he whispered against your lips.
Neuvillette's eyes darkened with desire as he gazed down at you, his hand still teasing your folds. "Anything, mon amour," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "I would do anything to please you, to make you feel good."
His lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving a path of fire in their wake. He captured your earlobe between his teeth, tugging gently. "I want to worship every inch of you," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. 
His fingers continued their skilled ministrations, stroking and teasing, building the tension within you. He could feel your hips rocking against his hand, seeking more friction, more pleasure.
"That's it, mon amour," he encouraged, his voice low and husky. "Let go, let yourself feel everything. I've got you.”
Neuvillette's fingers glided expertly through your slick folds, teasing and stroking, building the tension within you. He knew your body so well, knew exactly how to touch you to drive you wild with desire.
His thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pressure. At the same time, two of his fingers pushed inside you, curling upwards to stroke that spot deep within that made your toes curl.
He set a steady rhythm, his fingers moving in and out, in and out, his thumb continuing its maddening circles. He could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, your body responding to his touch.
He angled his fingers slightly, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. His thumb increased its pressure on your clit, rubbing in tight circles, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
"You're so beautiful when you're lost in pleasure," he growled, his own desire evident in his voice.
"Wanna make you feel good too-"
He rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him so that your pussy was hovering right above his mouth and you were met with his crotch.
Neuvillette's eyes darkened with lust as he gazed up at you, his hands gripping your hips firmly. "Then take what you need, mon amour," he growled, his voice muffled against your core.
He pulled you down, his tongue delving between your folds, licking and sucking, tasting your essence. His hands gripped your ass, holding you in place.
You reached down, your fingers deftly unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down along with his boxers. His thick, hard cock sprang free, the tip already glistening with precum.
Neuvillette's breath hitched as you wrapped your hand around his shaft, stroking him slowly. "Please-" he groaned, his hips bucking up into your touch.
You lowered your head, your tongue flicking out to lick the precum from the tip of his cock. Neuvillette groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you closer.
You wrapped your lips around his thick shaft, taking him deep into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around him as you bobbed your head, sucking and licking, your hand stroking what you couldn't fit in your mouth.
Neuvillette's hips rocked up to meet your movements, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Yes, just like that," he groaned.
Neuvillette moaned into your folds as he lapped at your clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for him, his fingers digging into your flesh.
He could feel your juices coating his tongue, your scent filling his senses, driving him wild with desire. He redoubled his efforts, his tongue delving deep inside you.
His nose brushed against your clit as he buried his face deeper, his tongue curling to hit that spot inside you that made your toes curl. He could feel you trembling above him, your moans filling the room.
"Come for me, mon amour," he growled against your folds, his voice vibrating through you. "Let go, let me feel you."
He sucked your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves, his fingers pumping in and out of you, faster and harder.
He could feel your thighs trembling against his face, your moans growing louder, more desperate. He knew you were close, could feel your walls starting to flutter around his fingers.
"That's it, mon amour," he growled, his voice muffled against your folds.
Neuvillette felt your body tense above him, your walls clamping down around his fingers as your orgasm crashed over you. He lapped at your clit, prolonging your pleasure, his fingers gentling their movements as you rode out the waves of your climax.
He continued to lap at your folds, cleaning up your cum, his tongue swirling and flicking, bringing you down from your high.
But Neuvillette remained strong, not letting himself get close, wanting to finish inside you.
As you came down from your high, Neuvillette slowly released your thighs, his hands caressing your skin as he pulled back. His cock throbbed, aching for release, but he ignored it, his focus solely on your pleasure.
He sat up, turning you around and pulling you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a deep, passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the flavour mingling with his own unique taste.
"I need to be inside you," he growled against your lips, his voice rough with desire. "I need to feel you, all of you."
He laid you back on the bed, his body covering yours, his cock nestling against your entrance. He paused for a moment, his eyes locked with yours, seeking permission, seeking connection.
You nod.
With a slow, steady push, he sank into you, your walls stretching to accommodate his thick length.
"Ah, sweetheart-" he groaned, his head falling forward to rest against your shoulder. "You feel incredible, so tight, so perfect."
He began to move, his hips rocking against yours, his cock sliding in and out of your slick heat. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he thrust into you, deeper and harder with each movement.
"I love you," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "I love you so so much-"
His pace increased, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he chased his release. His fingers dug into your hips, leaving marks of his passion, his possession.
Neuvillette's teeth sank into your shoulder, marking you as his, as he thrust into you with wild abandon. His hips slammed against yours, his cock driving deep inside you, hitting that spot that made you see stars.
"Mine," he growled, his voice low and possessive. "All mine, now and forever."
His hands roamed over your body, caressing your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He could feel your walls fluttering around him, your body responding to his every move.
He angled his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts, hitting that spot inside you that made you scream his name. His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Come with me, angel" he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "Let me feel you."
Neuvillette could feel his own release approaching, his balls tightening, his cock throbbing inside you. He redoubled his efforts, his hips slamming against yours, his fingers rubbing your clit harder, faster.
His teeth sank into your shoulder again, his mark claiming you, possessing you, as his thrusts became erratic, his movements losing their rhythm.
With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he came, ropes of cum flooding you, your name a prayer on his lips.
As Neuvillette's orgasm crashed over him, you could feel your own release building, your walls clamping down around his pulsing cock. Your body trembled beneath him, your moans filling the room as you rode out the waves of your climax.
Your back arched off the bed, your fingers digging into his shoulders, holding him close as you came undone. Your inner walls rippled around his length, milking him, drawing out every last drop of his seed.
"Neuvillette!" you cried out, your voice breaking as the pleasure consumed you.
Neuvillette held you close, his arms wrapping around you, his body shaking with the force of his own release. He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered your name over and over again.
Neuvillette held you close as you both came down from your highs, your bodies entwined, your heartbeats slowly returning to normal. He pressed soft kisses to your neck, your jaw, your cheeks, his lips trailing over your skin like a whisper.
"I love you, angel," he murmured, his voice low and tender. "I love you more than anything in this world."
He rolled onto his back, pulling you with him so that you were lying on his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. His hand stroked your hair, his fingers gently massaging your scalp.
"You are my everything," he whispered, his arms tightening around you. "My heart, my soul, my reason for being."
He closed his eyes, a contented sigh escaping his lips as he held you close, savouring the feeling of your body against his, the warmth of your skin, the scent of your hair.
"Rest now, mon amour," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing.
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જ⁀ watching you fight - 2.6k
The air heavy with the scent of battle and the sharp crackle of elemental energy. Wanderer’s movements were graceful and precise as always, his slender figure darting between foes with deadly elegance. But his focus wasn’t entirely on the fight.
No, his attention was locked on you.
You fought with a raw intensity, every strike you made sharp and calculated, every movement full of purpose. The way you moved, the way you commanded the space around you, was captivating. With every swing of your weapon, you demonstrated your strength and your resilience, your utter refusal to back down. The fire in your eyes was irresistible, and Wanderer couldn’t tear his gaze away from you.
Each time you dodged an attack, countered an enemy, or dispatched another foe with ease, his chest tightened with something he wasn’t quite used to—something primal.
He had always admired your strength, but this—this—was something different. The sight of your passion, your raw determination, made him ache with desire.
You caught his eye in the midst of a battle, and for a brief moment, the world around you seemed to disappear. He saw the way your lips curled in a confident, almost defiant smile as you took down an enemy, and it hit him like a jolt of electricity. His body tensed, a heat flooding his chest as he watched you finish the last enemy off with a powerful blow.
The battle ended in a flash of elemental power, and then there was silence. The only sound was your heavy breathing, while the air still hung heavy with the remnants of a fight. Wanderer didn't tear his eyes from you as he stared at the mess your hair was in, at the droplets of sweat glinting upon your skin. You were standing tall, victorious, and you radiated an undeniable strength that stirred something in him—a hunger he couldn’t push away.
You wiped the sweat from your brow, turning to face him with a breathless smile. “Not bad, huh?” you said, your voice teasing, but there was an edge of satisfaction in it.
Wanderer didn’t answer immediately. His eyes raked over you with an intensity that was impossible to miss. There was something about the way you fought, the way you carried yourself that made it impossible for him to ignore how turned on he was. He couldn’t shake the image of you fighting by his side, every graceful movement making his pulse race.
His eyes gleamed with something darker now, and when he spoke, his voice was rough, low, like he was tasting the words before they left his mouth.
“You have no idea,” he said, his gaze moving over you slowly, like a predator studying its prey. He let the words hang between you, heavy with intent. “The way you fight... the way you move, like nothing else matters but the battle... it’s...” He let out a soft, almost dismissive laugh, but there was no mistaking the heat in his voice. “It’s intoxicating.”
His gaze drifted to the blood on your clothes, the way your chest heaved with each breath, the way your muscles flexed beneath the sweat and the grime of the fight. The blood—yours or theirs, it didn’t matter—only seemed to fuel the fire in his chest, igniting something that had been simmering beneath the surface.
He stepped closer, closing the distance between you with purpose. “You look... different,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, a low growl in the back of his throat. “Tired, yes. But also more... alive.” His eyes locked with yours, holding your gaze, the unspoken words between you as thick as the sweat on your skin. “I can see it in your eyes—the rush, the satisfaction from victory.”
You could feel his presence closing in, his body just a hair’s breadth away from yours, his every movement sharp and deliberate. There was no longer any space between you two, the battlefield forgotten, the dead enemies fading into the background as he loomed over you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.
He was studying you now, watching the way your body reacted to his proximity, the slight catch in your breath as you stood tall, still proud in your exhaustion. Wanderer leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine.
“Is that what you wanted, doll?” His voice was a whisper, but it was filled with a hunger that made your heart race. “For me to look at you like this? Wanting you, seeing you in a way that’s... less respectful and more... desperate.”
A shudder ran through you at the sound of his voice, at the words that lingered in the air between you two. You wanted to push him away, but your body—your senses—were screaming for more. This was different. This was dangerous, thrilling, and you couldn’t deny the pull.
He reached out, his fingers grazing along your jawline, tracing the curve of your cheek. The touch was light, almost feather-soft, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you, making your skin tingle with anticipation.
“But I think we both know that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it?” His voice was a purr, a low, seductive sound that made your heart race. “To be seen, to be desired, to be... wanted.”
He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. You could feel the heat of his breath, the weight of his gaze as it bore into you. “Well I want you-”
His hand slid down your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair, tugging gently. “So tell me, are you ready to give in? To let me have my way with you, right here, right now, where anyone could see?”
His other hand trailed down your side, his touch possessive, claiming. He was so close, his body pressed against yours, his desire palpable in the air between you.
You could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes, the hardness of his muscles, the way he seemed to radiate power and hunger. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and you found yourself leaning into him, your body responding to his touch even as your mind screamed at you to resist.
But you couldn’t. Not when he looked at you like that, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. Like he wanted to devour you, to consume you, to make you his in every way possible.
So you surrendered, your lips parting in a silent invitation, your body arching into his touch. And as his lips crashed against yours, you knew that there was no going back and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Your teeth sank into his bottom lip, a sharp, sudden sting that made him gasp. His eyes widened in surprise, then darkened with desire, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
"Fuck," he breathed, the word muffled against your mouth. "So eager, aren't you?"
His hands tightened in your hair, holding you close as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, tasting you.
"That how you wanna’ play it, huh?" he murmured, his voice husky, laced with promise. He nipped at your lip in retaliation, a quick, sharp bite that sent sparks of pleasure-pain racing down your spine.
His hands roamed your body, mapping out your curves. He cupped one of your breasts, his thumb brushing over your nipple through the fabric of your shirt, teasing, taunting.
He knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours as he reached for the waistband of your pants. His fingers hooked into the fabric, and with a swift, practised motion, he tugged them down, letting them pool around your ankles.
You stepped out of them, now clad in just your shirt and underwear. The cool air hit your exposed skin, making you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat in Scaramouche's gaze as it raked over your body.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "I could just eat you up."
His hands slid up your legs, his touch searing even through the thin fabric of your panties. He hooked his fingers into the waistband, tugging them down slowly, teasingly.
As he revealed you to him, inch by tantalising inch, his breath hitched. "God, look at you," he murmured, his voice reverent, awed. "So fucking perfect."
His hands mapped out your thighs, your hips, your stomach, worshipping every curve, every dip. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your hipbone, then trailing his lips lower.
"Gonna make you feel so good, baby," he promised, his voice a dark, seductive purr. "Gonna make you forget everything but the feeling of my mouth on you."
And with that, he sealed his lips over your clit, and the world fell away, leaving only sensation, only pleasure, only him.
His tongue traced the seam of your folds, a slow, deliberate stroke that sent shivers racing up your spine. He savoured the taste of you, the musky sweetness that was uniquely yours. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as he explored every inch of you.
He started with broad strokes, his tongue lapping at your folds, coating them with his saliva. Then, with agonising slowness, he zeroed in on your clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue, teasing, tormenting.
"Mmm, you taste divine," he purred, his voice muffled against your flesh. "I could spend hours just worshipping this pretty little pussy."
He punctuated his words with a long, slow lick, from your entrance to your clit, savoring every drop of your essence. His tongue swirled around your clit, flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves, making you gasp and arch your hips.
His hands moved to grip your ass, pulling you closer, deeper into his mouth. He sealed his lips around your clit and sucked, hard, sending bolts of pleasure shooting through you.
"That's it, baby," he coaxed, his voice a dark, seductive rumble. "Let me hear you. Let the whole world know how good I make you feel."
He redoubled his efforts, his tongue and fingers working in tandem, driving you higher and higher, closer and closer to the edge. Your thighs trembled, your abs clenched, and you could feel the pressure building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.
"Come for me, doll" he purred.
And with a final, hard suck on your clit, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cried out his name, your body convulsing, your juices flooding his mouth as he lapped them up greedily, prolonging your pleasure.
He didn't stop until he was sure you were spent, until the last aftershocks had faded away. Only then did he pull back, his chin glistening with your essence, a satisfied smirk on his lips.
He grabbed your hips, spinning you around with surprising strength. Before you could react, he had you pressed against the rough bark of a nearby tree, his body flush against your back.
His hands roamed your body, one sliding up to cup your breast, kneading it roughly. The other slid between your legs, fingers delving into your still-slick folds, teasing your sensitive clit.
He thrust two fingers inside you, pumping them slowly, torturously. His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles around it, making you gasp and arch into his touch.
"Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" he purred, his voice a dark, seductive rumble.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your shoulder. His teeth grazed your flesh, not quite breaking the skin, but enough to send a jolt of pleasure-pain through you.
His free hand moved to his pants, undoing them with practised ease. The sound of a zipper being pulled down seemed impossibly loud in the quiet of the forest. Then, he was tugging his cock free, the hard length pressing against your ass.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, grinding against you. "So fucking perfect."
He lined himself up with your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick folds.
"Last chance to back out, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.
He waited, his body tense, poised on the edge of control. He wanted you, needed you, but he would wait. He would give you one last chance to refuse him, to deny him what he craved most.
But deep down, he knew you wouldn't. He could see the desire in your eyes, the need, the hunger. You wanted this just as much as he did, and he could feel it in the way your body trembled against his, the way your hips canted back, silently begging for more.
"Please what, baby?" he purred, his voice a dark, seductive rumble. "Please fuck you?"
He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the delicate skin.
"Or please stop?" he murmured, his voice a low, teasing taunt. "Please don't give you what you so desperately need?"
The tip slowly pushed through your folds, but no more. He was so big, so hard, you knew he'd completely stretch you open.
“Stop being an idiot and fuck me-” you muttered.
With a low chuckle, he slammed into you, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.
"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "So fucking tight."
He set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the forest, mingling with your mutual moans and gasps.
He angled his hips, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, building higher and higher, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.
He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.
"That's it, baby," he panted, his voice strained with pleasure. "Let me hear you. Let the whole damn world know who’s fucking you-"
His thrusts grew harder, faster, more erratic. The pleasure was building, coiling tighter and tighter in his core, threatening to consume him entirely. He could feel you clenching around him, your walls fluttering and squeezing his cock.
"Fuck, I'm close," he groaned, his hips snapping against your ass with bruising force. "Gonna fill this tight little pussy up. Gonna make you mine."
His hand slid down, fingers finding your clit. He rubbed tight, firm circles around the sensitive nub, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
"Come with me, baby," he demanded, his voice a dark, commanding growl.
With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing and twitching as he filled you with his cum, sending you over the edge with him.
You came with a scream, your body convulsing and shaking in his arms. He held you close, his hips still rocking, prolonging your pleasure, drawing out every last drop of ecstasy.
"Fuck, yes," he panted, his voice ragged and raw. "That's my good girl."
He peppered your neck with kisses, his teeth grazing your skin. "You did so well, baby.”
He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, savouring the feeling of your body wrapped around his. Finally, with a soft groan, he pulled out, his now softening cock slipping from your pussy.
"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?" he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle. "And then maybe round two when we're inside, hmm?"
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reblogsノcomments are greatly appreciated <3
© lovecuprite → do not copy or translate any of my works
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luna-azzurra · 2 months ago
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How To Write A Chase Scene
Before anyone takes off running, the reader needs to know why this matters. The chase can’t just be about two people running, it’s gotta have a reason. Is your hero sprinting for their life because the villain has a knife? Or maybe they’re chasing someone who just stole something valuable, and if they don’t catch them, it’s game over for everyone. Whatever the reason, make it clear early on. The higher the stakes, the more the reader will care about how this chase plays out. They’ll feel that surge of panic, knowing what’s on the line.
Sure, a chase scene is fast, people are running, dodging, maybe even falling. But not every second needs to be at full speed. If it’s too frantic from start to finish, the reader might get numb to the action. Instead, throw in some rhythm. Use quick, sharp sentences when things get intense, like someone stumbling or almost getting caught. But then slow it down for a second. Maybe they hit a dead end or pause to look around. Those brief moments of slow-down add suspense because they feel like the calm before the storm kicks up again.
Don’t let the setting just be a backdrop. The world around them should become a part of the chase. Maybe they’re tearing through a marketplace, dodging carts and knocking over tables, or sprinting down alleyways with trash cans crashing behind them. If they’re running through the woods, you’ve got low-hanging branches, roots, slippery mud, and the constant threat of tripping. Describing the environment makes the scene more vivid, but it also adds layers of tension. It’s not just two people running in a straight line, it’s two people trying to navigate through chaos.
Running isn’t easy, especially when you’re running for your life. This isn’t some smooth, graceful sprint where they look cool the whole time. Your character’s lungs should be burning, their legs aching, maybe their side starts to cramp. They’re gasping for air, barely holding it together. These details will remind the reader that this chase is taking a real toll. And the harder it gets for your character to keep going, the more the tension ramps up because the reader will wonder if they’ll actually make it.
Don’t make it too easy. The villain should almost catch your hero or the hero should almost grab the villain. But something happens last second to change the outcome. Maybe the villain’s fingers brush the hero’s coat as they sprint around a corner, but they manage to slip out of reach just in time. Or maybe your hero almost gets close enough to tackle the villain, but slips on some gravel, losing precious seconds.
And Don’t let the chase end in a way that feels too predictable. Whether your character gets away or is caught, it should be because of something clever. Maybe they spot a hiding place that’s almost impossible to notice, or they use their surroundings to mislead their pursuer. Or, the person chasing them pulls a fast one, Laying a trap, cutting off their escape route, or sending the hero down the wrong path. You want the end to feel earned, like it took quick thinking and ingenuity, not just dumb luck or fate.
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sweetnans · 4 months ago
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Chaotic fem. reader/Best friend Bakugo
"I'm ready to be a mother," you stated out of nothing.
Bakugo was obviously taken back by your comment.
"Did you see something on tiktok that made you think that?" he looked at you while you kept scrolling in your phone. "You need a partner to procreate dumbass,"
"I know I need a man to procreate, but I thought that you could help me on that one," you bit your nails, showing less interest than a rock.
He left his phone aside so he could analyze you properly if you were talking seriously or not.
"I'm not going to introduce you to my side kick, He's like twenty," he tested.
"Twenty??? I'm almost twenty eight, that's still a reasonable age gap, " you gasped because his side kick didn't look like he was twenty. You thought that he would at least be twenty-three.
"No it's not"
After almost ten years of being friends, Bakugo was so used to your shit. The time that you wanted to go surfing? He laughed at your face when you didn't make it to the ocean because you were afraid of sharks. What about the time when you wanted a hamster? He said no, but you got it anyway, so when you lost it, obviously, he gave you shit about it, but after that, he was on all four looking for your little pet in the dorms.
"Fine." That wasn't your main goal, so you let it go. "Actually, I was thinking of you doing a quick hand job in my bathroom and giving me your sperm"
The silence between the two of you couldn't be more unbearable. Bakugo's eyes twisted in your direction while his cheeks were slowly growing a clear shade of rose.
"What? No!"
He was absolutely losing it. The impact of your sayings got him standing from his seat, almost panting. You and him? In his best dreams, but you didn't need to know about his secret intentions.
"Think about it. It's a great idea." You stepped out of your couch and went to his side.
"How are you going to explain that your kid has similar features with your best friend?" he flinched when you approached him. You were so close that your scent invaded him whole.
Bakugo was trying with all his heart and mind to think logically, but you, your body next to him, and your puppy eyes were making it so hard, in both ways.
"I don't know, and I don't care, I'll run away from the country, and you'll never see us again"
You were one of the best students from UA, right after him and Yaoyorozu, but right now, he was doubting if it was just an act.
"That's so clever." he rolled his eyes at you and walked to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, hoping that you would drop the subject and hop onto another like getting a bunny or going sky diving.
"I know, right? Now go in there, do the nasty job, and I'll put it inside of me, I'll even turn my body upside down so it sticks, " you jolted in joy, missing his usual sarcasm.
He almost spilled the water from his mouth to your face.
"Who the fuck told you that?" he spated obnoxiously.
"Kaminari," you shrugged.
"Are you even listening to yourself!?"
When he thought that that couldn't get any worse, you named the only person who could make him go crazy just by opening his mouth.
"I'm desperate. It made sense when he told me"
He could believe anything at this point. He was actually thinking that he was dead because what was happening between you two was a complete nonsense.
"So you are telling me this is something you've had in mind for a while?
You simply nodded, and he stayed quiet, considering everything you said. He wasn't looking for anything serious because of you. He passed for all seven stages of grief when he realized that he was in love with you and your silliness, so he decided long ago that he wouldn't date anyone because he wasn't interested in anyone but you.
"I know that look on your face," you smiled and danced around the kitchen.
You weren't looking for anyone either. Having Bakugo as a male figure in your life left the bar very high for others to match. They didn't meet your expectations anymore like Bakugo did, always by your side, laughing at your bad jokes and giving you his hand when you most needed, buying food and cooking for you, he has even bought you flowers for half a decade on valentine's day, a large bouquet of red roses every year since then.
"I'll do it," he told you, and you jumped excited on him. He grabbed you by your thighs, catching you on the fly. "Two conditions"
"Yeah, just name it," you batted your eyes at him.
"I'll take you on a proper date first, and you won't run away with my kid, got it?"
Bakugo thought that he was only doing you a favor, but he never saw coming that it only took one date to make you fall for him in the way he always wanted.
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shotmrmiller · 6 months ago
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size difference where the one afraid to fuck you is simon. he thinks you soft. which is what you are. soft. fragile. small.
you're not like him. nothing like the guys. battle-scarred. muscles carved by relentless missions, scars that speak of duty.
your skin divots under his fingers, yielding to his weathered touch and if he squeezes hard enough, you'll have marks by morning. (he needs to be careful, he can't hurt you, won't—)
and so simon watches you touch yourself in the beginning, clever fingers swirling over your slippery clit with practiced movements even though his cock is straining against his trousers painfully. he can hear you mewl his name through bitten lips and it takes all of his self control to not tug his jeans off, slot himself between your spread, inviting thighs and push— stretch open your fluttering walls, so hot and slick, until he meets resistance, until he can push no more but—
he can't. you'd hurt. and he'd hurt because he hurt you. he won't.
after, when your eyes are heavy lidded, mouth slightly parted in exertion, you remind him that you aren't made of glass. that you won't break. you'll shatter— in the way you do when his tongue replaces your fingers— but not break.
"not a virgin either, for christ's sake," you groan.
maybe he's thinking too hard about it. he knows your teeth have edges, knows your bite is swift when deserved. but all he's truly good at is making things give. biology made it so with his bulky frame and raw mass.
his eyes trace the contour of your collarbone. delicate. then it darts to the pulse on your wrist. vital. his hands, the size of dinner plates don't coax. they demand. he'd snap you like a twig, leaving nothing but splintered remains in his wake.
you don't seem to mind, however. it slightly alarms him. where's your self-preservation? do you enjoy pain? is this some masochistic thing?
he looks at you, all glassy eyed and dewy skinned (ethereal; you're practically glowing under the soft light of the full moon that paints the room silver) and he thinks of how it's going to take work to make it work. his cock is large (he's seen the guys' eyes pop out of their heads in the showers once they caught a glimpse of what's between his legs) but you're persistent in the end. one too many nights of having him without having him.
he understands. simon knows better than most what it's like to yearn. to want and not have. he'd cause you pain by not giving in, and cause pain by giving in. damned if he does, damned if he doesn't.
so he caves. promises to go slow. careful.
"i can take it," you bravely say but he's barely pressing himself to your entrance and you're already making noises that tug at his pathetic little heart. the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip-- you look so pretty, how'd a twisted creature like him get someone like you to come home to-- as his cock fills you has him feeling lightheaded. it takes every ounce of self control to not sink into your heat, to hook your legs around his thick waist and let gravity do the rest.
an unsteady hand weaves its way down to your stuffed cunt, fingers splitting into a vee, feeling how he splits your puffy lips, and the view makes him buck his hips involuntarily.
his hands tighten around your calves when you keen, a high pitched noise that swells the lust he feels burning white hot at the base of his spine, tips of his fingers, deep within his loins. he feels ready to burst.
and he's only halfway in.
your voice cuts through the ringing in his ears. "m-more, simon, c'mon," the n is low and drawn out.
his fingers bite into your flesh as he pushes slow, oh so slowly, until your vise-like cunt envelops him completely. the sibilant hiss you let out makes his hair stand on end. (shame pricks at his nerves like a thousand tiny needles when his cock twitches at the sound of your slightly pained moans)
simon doesn't move, feeling your swollen walls around his cock ripple, tighten and slacken, like it's got a pulse of its own. he could be here, in you, cock deep in paradise for the rest of time.
"fuck me," you warble out, hand rubbing your swollen clit to well up the pleasure that's being smothered by the searing pang of discomfort.
when simon cants his hips back, he watches his cock come out of you, glistening with slick. his jaw aches from how hard he's clenching it. control. got to keep it slow, gentle. slow, simon, slow, slow--
"harder."
he feels the sudden sharp sting of your nails and jerks forward in surprise, filling you completely in one fast movement.
your moan this time is needy, thick with want, arousal dripping from your voice as it does your pussy, coating him in creamy white, a frothy ring at the root.
simon can see the barest of bumps below your navel, or maybe he's seeing things, your hot cunt putting him in a state of delirium but the way you take all of his cock and continue to beg for more, beg him to fuck you like he means it even though he's twice if not thrice your size well...
you'll just have to forgive him on the finger-shaped bruises they're going to be on your body after.
(you'd looked so cheeky before he flipped you onto your knees, grabbing onto your delicate neck like a lifeline as he pulled your hips to meet his. you'd taken him easier here, cunt sodden with slick but the angle had him reaching a devastating depth no one else could ever dream of reaching and even though it'd sprung tears to the corners of your eyes at the pinch, "mama ain't raise no bitch.")
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thephantomsdream · 6 months ago
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Let's be real for a second.
Ghost likes you a lil mean. Just enough. To him, to his mates, to everyone. He can fight. He will fuck anyone up who dares to react aggressively to you, so it doesn't matter if you're sassy, snarky, plainly put a little shit. He won't stop you, he's not gonna "tame" you, he's definitely gonna fucking eat it up and tease you, loving your remarks, clever, funny or straight up mean. The man will be smirking behind his mask (or straight up giving you heart-eyes at home). Don't be unnecessarily mean though, it's not a good look on anyone. Oh, god, and if your humor is dark? You got the man snorting and fucking giggling*(1), shoulders shaking and him trying to hold it in as you're plain roasting someone.
Be mean to him. He tests the waters, dropping one of his incredible and fantastic jokes for you to roll your eyes at him and tell him to rather wear a clown mask, since he's such a joke, and I swear he folds. Wants to pin you down and fuck you raw until you're a sobbing mess that knows nothing else but his name? Of course, and know he'd be mocking you, because where's that snarky mouth of yours, hmm? Oh, ya, busy sucking on his fingers. But until then, he's lowkey following you around dropping stupid joke after stupid joke until you're actually angry and amused. He got you smiling somehow? Gets him feeling like a young boy with a crush, silly butterflies and all.
Give him a bitch-face. Raised brow and unimpressed face at anyone and he's just eyes on you. Fucking hell, he's creepy too. Ghost is fucking intimidating as he is but if he just fixates on something, big brown eyes locked onto you and (big, awkward because let's be fucking for real, boy's actually fucking awkward) body frozen. Just 🧍‍♂️. (I'm fucking wheezing, he just 🧍‍♂️👁👁 and you know it!)
"Fuck are you looking at, weirdo?" That's bloody foken lovely!
And!
AND! He just (again, awkwardly) hovers and makes shit jokes but is so helpful to you in any way he can because in reality he's garbage with words but with actions he's much better. Regardless of where you met, he'll find a way in your life because you bring him joy and he just can't seem to let go. Simon tries to convince himself too that it ain't a good idea, that you're better off. Aha. Yeah, then you just look at him in a way when someone else says something absolutely fucking stupid and he just... Yeah, he's yours.
Be mean to him, then let him shove his face in your tits. Pull his hair a little but wrap your arms around him. Bite him and call him an idiot if you want, as long as you call him your idiot. That's Simon to you.
(But when you're nice to only him, he feels special. Make this man feel special, yeah? He needs it.)
(1): I actually imagined him in his barracks, him kicking his feet while he wears a pink robe, writing in his pink diary (with a pink pen with one of those fluffy balls at the end) "Dear diary, my lovie called me an asshole today. My heart is still racing. We shall mary in spring." and drawing hearts around his and your initials together.
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goathouseofficial · 1 month ago
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god sam is so fucking smart. can we talk about "so I should let axelby do whatever he wants to me?" can we talk about ep1 and the way she deals with that one PA. can we talk about how carefully she phrased her request in the pissberg. can we talk about the words she uses in The Incident? "the most helpful thing you can do is get up" and "please don't kick your dead body as a favour to ME". just countless examples she is so fucking quick and clever on the draw EVERY time I love to think abt her
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gremlingottoosilly · 23 days ago
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Slasher!König and his oblivious wife? 🎀
Konig loves his wife. She is a pretty smart thing - always knows when the food had run out and he needs to drive to the nearest grocery shop, and always knows where did he put his combat gear when he returns from a hunt and forgets where he dropped it. She is a pretty and clever little thing who knows how to kiss him exactly right when he is too fucking angry at some dumb survivors after an unsuccessful hunt, and you know when to leave him alone so he can spend some quality time with his hauntingly good taxidermy. Konig has a smart wife - but it doesn't mean you're smart enough to pick up at signs. Like when you kiss him and he smells of blood - not some occasional splotches that you can get from skinning a deer. You don't ask because you don't want him getting nervous - you know how anxious he can get whenever you ask him some uneasy questions, and you don't want to make him feel bad. You don't have a reason not to trust him, so you just press your face in his chest and let him lull you into a sense of security. Konig loves you like this - cute, obedient, as pliant as a pretty wife can be. You stopped worrying about living in a cozy house closer to the forest, which he adores - and you stopped trying to get out of the house on your own, too scared after the news of some psycho wolf tearing through the poor victims just around. Konig would always assure you that there is nothing to be afraid of - and you let him kiss away your fear, treating you as gently as he can. Sometimes Konig slips - some dumb tourist running away, almost in your hands, finding a way around the house and trying to break to safety. Konig knows better than to stash victims in a basement of his own house, but sometimes he almost wishes you weren't as oblivious so he could just reveal his true side to you and break you into a fully obedient little thing. Oh, but he can't - he actually likes you, and he likes those stupid little decorations you put on the porch, and he likes having your warm body next to his in bed, and he likes to listen to your rambling about the weather and the show you watched. He has to actually hide his tracks, stop coming home drenched in blood, and with the newest trophy strapped to his hip. It's all worth it when he returns from having to hunt a bunch of dumb college students, and he is met with the sight of his precious wife bending over a stove to get the cookies out of the oven. It's even more worth it when he can come and startle you with a few kisses on your neck - he lifts the mask around you, always wanting to press his face against your body - and then lift your skirt to bury his tongue in your pussy, too distracted to actually use his fingers. He just wishes you'll never stop being his adorable and oblivious wife while he is too busy hunting the dumb tourist in his forest.
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