#bounced like bumble

[auto-utm]

Perhaps I should engineer a bitty revolt.... The Undyne bitty who runs Museum security has been interested in performing some military drills.

It would be only right to remain prepared.

Of course, Security would have to know. As the one monitoring all the cameras, it would be wrong if I were not in the loop.

Orb? Well, it is a being of unknown capabilities and has been known to know exactly where residents are despite them using magic to disguise themselves... So I wouldn't need to tell it.

Orb would surely tell Guide if it were important. Crickets notwithstanding.

I see nothing that could possibly go wrong.

[rosenbergi]

Thinking about how I drew and imagined Q before the game came out rn

We didn’t have many references available for them when I drew this, that’s why the colours are a little wonky! However, I was a little sad that they weren’t as animated or cartoony as I imagined them from the promotional material.

… They’re not animated at all for one thing-

[littlexdeaths]

𝕝𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕘𝕠, 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥 - 𝕖.𝕞.

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: hope y’all like CHEESE, reader wears glasses

part two | part three

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

a/n: this is incredibly self indulgent and lame but i hope y’all enjoy xx.

“You’re staring… again.”

Nancy says under her breath, which has your eyes immediately darting away and back down toward your lunch out of sheer embarrassment.

“I was not staring….” you hiss, picking at the pile of peas on your tray.

“Oh, you soooo were,” she laughs, knocking her shoulder into yours. “Why don’t you just go and talk to him?”

You let out an exasperated breath before glancing over at your best friend. She’s giving you that soft yet encouraging gaze that’s entirely Nancy.

“Why would someone like him be interested in someone like me?”

Your voice is softer, but that underlying fear bleeds through nonetheless.

“I’m just so….” you trail off, chewing on your lower lip. “Boring.”

Your eyes have drifted back over to the hellfire table, where they seem to find themselves almost every lunch period now. Totally entranced by the male sitting at the end of the table.

Eddie Munson, dungeon master and local metalhead. Also the guy you’ve been harboring the biggest crush on since your junior year.

He looks even prettier with the afternoon sun shining through the windows of the cafeteria, highlighting the warm chestnut hue of his fluffy curls. His lips are poised in an annoyed pout, fingers drumming on the table in rapid succession while he listens to Dustin’s nervous ramblings.

“He’s just so— outgoing and doesn’t give two shits what these dipshits around here think of him.”

Your lips can’t help but quirk up into a small smile when you witness him tossing a pretzel at Mike’s head.

“You are not boring,” Nancy sighs, her curls bouncing when she shakes her head. “But you’re not gonna know if something could work out between you if you don’t at least try.”

Your snort has her rolling her eyes, but yours are still transfixed on the boy in question. So much so that you haven’t noticed the way your glasses continue to slip down the bridge of your nose.

“I doubt he even knows my name, Nance.”

When your eyes suddenly catch his chocolatey brown ones, you feel mortified. You’ve been very careful about your…admiring during lunch or in between classes. But Nancy had momentarily distracted you, and now you’d been caught red handed.

Unbeknownst to you, this isn’t the first time he’s noticed your wandering gaze. Soft eyes that are filled with the utmost longing and kindness. Someone with a reputation such as Eddie Munson doesn’t have looks like that thrown his way very often.

So it’s no surprise he’s caught on.

But you don’t seem to notice the way he always glances back once you look away, dark eyes seeking out your figure in the halls. The longing of his own for you to finally meet his gaze. But your nose is either stuck in a book or those pretty eyes are trained on your feet.

It was maddening.

You quickly break his curious stare and jump to your feet, missing the way he shoots up from his own chair. You sling your backpack over your shoulder and leave your tray abandoned.

“I gotta go…I’ll see you later, Nance,” you say before she even has time to protest, keeping your head down as you make your way toward the exit.

Mentally still kicking yourself for being caught gawking at him like some bumbling idiot. But your heart leaps into your throat when you hear the slapping of sneakers on the linoleum behind you.

Before you can even process what’s happening you all but collide into a denim clad chest, gasping softly when his arms slip around your waist to catch you before you almost stumble backwards onto your ass.

“Whoa, easy there,” he chuckles, those same pouty lips quirking up into a lopsided grin. “Didn’t mean to scare ya…”

When he releases you, your whole body deflates— already missing the warmth of his palms. Even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

“Uh…sorry, did you need something?” you ask, unable to hide the confusion in your tone.

He purses his lips, twisting his rings on his fingers in almost a nervous manner.

Why would he be nervous?

“I just had a question is all…” he mumbles, “and honestly, I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while now.”

And your heart nearly stops when he carefully pushes your glasses back up the bridge of your nose.

“You free tonight?”

[idiotmf]

Bunny hybrid? Nah. Hare hybrid.

NSFW, MDNI

Listen. Listen...

I like the cutesy Bunny hybrids just as much as anyone else but hear me out:

Hare hybrid.

A goddamn hare hybrid that's just so done with shit, no cutesy behavior, no sweet courting.

Just straight up unrelenting marathon breeding. It opens the door to so many more amazing stories.

I don't know why but I just can't imagine a bunny to be dominant? But a hare?

Lmao yea, dude's done with your shit and just wants to fuck you until he's satisfied. He doesn't care if that ruins your pretty little hole, heck, if you keep whining he'll fuck your throat to shut you up.

By the end you're on the verge of passing out, covered in ungodly amounts of his cum and then he'll drop the “you get a five minute break before I fuck your hole again” line and you regret the life choices you made that led up to this point.

OR!!

Hare reader.

Imagine being the person that's done with people's shit.

Bonus points if you're domming the big bad scary werewolf and reduce him to a tied up, bumbling mess while you're bouncing on his huge cock as if it's nothing.

By the end he better beg for mercy and you know you ain't taking shit. You're gonna stop when you feel like it, no amount of cum inside you will stop you from demanding more until your heat subsides.

He is your plaything and you will let him know it.

I'm definitely adding both of these to the idea pile. With my lack of self-control when it comes to writing smut, I'm probably already typing something up.

[usedtobecooler]

calling up virgin!eddie whilst he's watching a porno and talking him through jerking off <3

content warnings: sexual content 18+ minors dni, f masturbation, m masturbation, dirty talk.

“and so then i told steve to fuck off because seriously, i thought we were passed the stage of him constantly staring at my ti—"

your ears catch it then, and you cut yourself off mid-sentence to make sure you're really hearing what you think you are.

the grunting, the clapping, the loud moaning. tinny and crackly through shitty speakers.

“eddie?”

“hmm?”

“are you watching a dirty movie?” you’re giddy with it, knowing the question is going to embarrass eddie and turn him into a bumbling fool. you can’t help but call attention to it.

“i— uh, what?” he feigns stupidity, though a little gasp gives him away. like he’s trying to stop himself from cumming.

“are you jerking off right now? you little perv!” you accuse him, wiggling around on your bed as a large, seedy smile spreads across your mouth.

eddie harrumphs at that, and you can almost hear his eyes rolling, “well you did kinda call me out of the blue, it’s two in the morning.” he argues, a choked off, strangled sound falling from his lips.

you flush dark. clench your thighs together. god, his strangled and embarrassed little arguments sounded so hot.

and maybe it has something to do with the fact he's inexperienced, possibly a virgin — scratch that, you know he's a virgin. this is hawkins, the girls aren't lining up down the street to fuck the town freak and 'satan vessel', no matter how hot he was.

knowing he's fucking his own fist watching a dirty movie. knowing it's probably something he does most nights when wayne works. craving his own touch because there's nobody else to do it for him. your pussy throbs.

"well don’t let my presence stop you. tell me what they're doing right now," you giggle, cheeks burning as you writhe around on your bed, legs falling open ever so slightly, free hand not holding the phone receiver dipping low on your belly.

the cap of eddie's lube bottle pops open, rattling through your swimming head, the unrhythmic squirting noises a clear indication of how empty the bottle was. it's bold, bold enough to make you wonder if he's even aware that you can hear it.

your ears prick at the loud, faked moaning in the background vaguely, a woman gasping and begging 'fuck my pussy harder!'

"they — they're..." eddie trails off, sighing when he wraps his hand tightly around the base of his cock, squeezing and crying out in relief, "he's got her on, uh, all fours. slapping her ass."

your skin prickles, excitement and arousal thrumming through your veins as your ears catch the slick glide of eddie's hand pumping up his length, "you getting yourself nice and wet?" the smirk is evident in your voice. he whines.

"shit." eddie curses, a shaky little sigh escaping him — he is wet, it's hard to ignore how loud it is, "y-yeah, fucking christ."

you can almost picture how much of a mess he's making of himself. lube dripping down his shaft and coating his heavy, cum filled balls, soaking his hand, a constant stream of precum blurting from the needy head.

he's in the living room, you know he is. it's the only room in the trailer with a tv. you wonder if he was smart enough to lay a towel under himself, or if he's gonna end up in a soaked patch of his own cum and lube.

it honestly makes you dizzy, the guttural noises he's making have you thinking of how flushed his face is, his hazy, heavy lidded eyes glued to the tv set — watching the woman be fucked within an inch of her life, her stretched pussy within eyeshot.

"are you still watching? or are your eyes shut, thinkin' about me bouncing on your dick?" you're nonchalant, lazy with it, drawling on the words — eddie's breath hitches, the rhythmic schlick of his hand coming to a stop.

"y-you — would you?" eddie asks, gasping and arching up into his fist as he starts up again. slowly, not as tight, trying to savour it whilst he can. your voice is sending him hurtling towards the edge far too quick.

"yeah, would climb on top of you and sink down on your fat cock," and you can't help it, your own hand finally slips into your soaked panties, two fingers gliding through your slick lips and pressing on your clit, relieving the dull throb, "you'd love it, eddie. feeling how wet i would be for you, how tight i am."

"mmph," eddie garbles, hips bucking up wildly as he gives up fighting the losing battle, precum leaking uncontrollably from his slit and spilling down his fist, "you'd feel so fucking good."

"i would," you agree, fingers running over your clit in tight, fast circles, heat blooming in your lower gut quickly as your ears are invaded by eddie's whining, the motions of his hand on his cock, "i promise you i'd be so good for you, get you off so quick."

"fuh-uuck, you can't — can't say that, you're gonna make me cum," he's practically crying, voice strained and high pitched, almost totally drowned out by the wet slap of his hand flying up and down his cock.

"was kinda the point," you bristle, slapping your clit slightly and gasping his name — his breath hitches, he breathes a loud gasp down the line, "how big is it? tell me, need to picture it whilst i fuck myself thinking about you."

"oh my fucking god," eddie grunts, working his fist over the head of his cock until he's crying out, the noise shooting straight to your cunt, "i don't— it's six, maybe. thick. my... my own hand barely fits around it."

you catch yourself whining, keening into your hand, hips arching as you rub frantically over your clit, "eddie," you whimper, thighs clenching around your own wrist, "need you splitting me open on it, please?"

"anything, anything you want you can take it," eddie's voice shakes, the slapping of his hand further increasing in speed, and you know he's close before he even says it, "m'gonna cum, you're making me cum, fuck."

the winding in your gut coils tight and snaps all at once, unable to cope with the pretty noises you're eliciting from eddie, and you cry out, a gasp of his name escaping your lips as you reach your high. fingers slipping over your needy, soaked cunt as you cum, whole body shaking with it.

"yeah, yeah," eddie grunts, "can't believe you just came thinking of me — god, feels so fucking good, fuck—"

you hear the telltale sound of the receiver dropping as he all but wails in the background, and you ache to see it, the way he's probably hunched in on himself as his cock pulses, all pretty with his eyes squeezed tight and spit slick lips dropped open.

"fucking hell," eddie pants, and you hear him rustling around down the receiver — he's made a mess, you know he has. probably spurted up his shirt, covered himself in it. you try not to think too much about it, your swollen clit throbbing, "you — i came so hard, shit."

you cackle, cheeks flushing dark as your brain starts to catch up on what just happened, "sorry i interrupted your movie."

eddie chokes out an embarrassed laugh, "don't worry about it, this was — this was so much better than all that staged shit."

you shoot your shot, because fuck it, what's the worst that can happen once your best friend has heard you cum?

"i can show you something much better, if you like? say friday, my place at seven?"

[ma1dita]

james potter x reader please!

so, in this one james and lily survive but they realize that they aren't for each other and decide to get a divorce or whatever it is in the wizarding world. so harry spends half of the week with james, and half with lily and her new partner, mary macdonald (yes, i am a marylily shipper)

so, reader is harry's new primary school teacher and baby boy loves her!

one day, james picks harry up from school and meets harry's favorite “miss pretty,”

turns out, she was in the same class as james (different house, ravenclaw preferably) but he never really noticed her bcs all he ever thought about before was quidditch, his friends, and lily evans

ooooh, harry setting his dad up with reader would be amazing!

james potter x ravenclaw!teacher!reader

wc: 1.8k

a/n: no warnings, unedited. only one ravenclaw mention; thank you for the req love! sorry for the wait

—

Harry J. Potter is undoubtedly James’ son. From his unruly hair that can only be salvaged by a thick swipe of Sleakeazys, to the glasses that slide down the tiny bridge of his nose, and more evidently as of late—the mischief that runs through his veins, there’s really no doubt that this troublemaking 6-year-old is his.

No blood magic or Muggle fraternity… ehem, paternity test needed.

So there he sits in a too-small, sunshine yellow kiddie chair in the hallway of Harry’s classroom because he’s been called in for a parent-teacher meeting. The chair part wasn’t necessary, but Harry’s playing pretend to be a waiter at a 5-star restaurant that his mommy said Lily was taking her partner Mary to. And whatever Harry says, goes for the most part (which is exactly why he’s in this chair in the first place. He could paint a picture of how red Lily’s face got over the phone when she yelled at him over their baby getting called in for misconduct).

It all must’ve been a misunderstanding, or something he’s yet to find out the reason for, such as why little Harry’s pretend Michelin star establishment has the waiter flying food over in an airplane, complete with bumbling engine noises and his arms sticking out as he runs down the hallway. 

Classy.

“H, I ordered extra fries with this burger!” James says in a ridiculously indignant voice, pretending to huff and cross his arms and he almost cracks a smile when his little one comes giggling down the way back to him, “Coming right up, Daddy!” The other, much older parents that pass by the empty hallway are less enthused, but well, James Fleamont Potter and shame don’t belong in the same sentence, much less a lifetime. 

Tiny airplane arms graze the construction paper Hungry Caterpillar that lines the hallway, painted handprints waving back at little Harry as he runs full speed, until the door opens and BOOM!

James hears laughter instead of tears so when he abruptly stands up, knocking the small yellow chair over (and the purple side table he had all his imaginary food on), albeit trying to come off nonchalant, he’s relieved. What he’s more surprised about is the pretty lady that’s whirling his boy around in her arms.

“Harry the hurricane! Just in time to mix things up and sprinkle some energy back into my day huh?”

You’re dressed in a light pink vest and a long skirt that Harry’s hanging off of like the monkey bars at the playground and you seem to think nothing of it as you stick your hand out for him to shake, “Mr. Potter, thank you for coming in!”

“Oh love, James is fine I—” “DADDY! SAY HI TO MISS PRETTY!”

Quite right, he thinks. There’s something charming about you that he finds himself trying to figure out, hair tied messily on your head, different marker stains on your hands, and a stray holographic sticker that says “What a Star!” seems to have found its way to your abdomen. He thinks that if the professors at Hogwarts were this beautiful, he’d actually spend less time in detention.

The tot is grinning ear to ear and almost bouncing as you crouch down and gently take his hands off your skirt and into your own with a velveteen smile, “What did we say, hon? When we’re inside the classroom, we use our inside voices. Soft like a warm breeze, hmm?”

“But Miss Pretty, I’m not in the classroom yet!” Harry says cheekily as he points to his light-up sneakers standing toes away from the doorway. The boy goes running in towards the back of the room to go play with the building blocks and James has to bite his tongue when he watches you pinch your nose before taking your place at the desk in the front of the room.

“Well hello then, Miss Pretty,” he says with a smirk, throwing his blazer over the back of the thankfully adult chair and rolling his shirt sleeves up as he takes a seat. It’s quiet in the room besides the sound of Harry pretending to be Godzilla on a poor imaginary city in the background.

You stare at him a bit sideways, a beat of silence occupying the space between you, and then a snort escapes you—unladylike, but oh, what a woman. 

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

He blinks. Harry’s block towers crash to the ground and it sounds like James’ hopes of this going anywhere outside the classroom, a reverberating sound that drops with his heart falling to his ass, “Say what now?”

“Dear Godric, you’re still the same as back at school!” you scoff, leaning back in your chair and kicking your legs up on the desk (that he admittedly takes a peek at, but anyways); clearing his throat he’s so sure there must be some sort of misunderstanding—how could anyone overlook someone as stunning as you?

“I should’ve known, to be honest, when a mini-me of you walked in here on the first day, oh—the look on my face, I swear Lily’s gonna get a kick of this when she comes by next week, she was worried that you were coming in and not her anyways.”

The furrow in his brow is like a faultline right now, wondering how in the hell all of this has gone wrong in the last few minutes from the door, “Don’t bother with anything that woman says,” and then you’re laughing because, “Funny, from what I remember, you bothered her no matter what she said.”

And look how that turned out 7 years and a divorce later. 

Co-parenting with Lily Evans-McDonald is not for the weak, after all.

“Why am I even here?” James says exasperatedly, eyes flickering to the ceiling and then to his son who’s doing airplane arms as he kicks down his blocks. You cross your arms almost smugly, and he hopes you don’t take offense, which he clarifies by the frazzled look on his face and the hands he runs through his hair—”Your son called me stupid in class yesterday…”

Dear Merlin.

“And he said that his daddy was the one who told him to say it.”

A wheezing noise leaves his chest and he’s in disbelief, eyes whipping between you and his darling boy and the fact that he’s smack in the middle of looking an outright fool when it comes to this parenting all because of—

“You do know I didn’t mean it like that it’s just—”

You’re grinning as he loosens his tie in a panic, “We didn’t learn the alphabet like that back in our day?”

“I MEAN WHO CHANGES THE ALPHABET SONG? Truly!” James blubbers as he tries to cover his ass and somehow he’s the one who feels like he’s in trouble with the teacher. 

Perhaps he is, though this was not the original scene he had in mind walking in here. He takes a deep breath once you give him the same look you did Harry about his inside voice and—Godric you’re good at that—”And obviously…obviously I didn’t know you were his teacher.”

“Oh? Does that make a difference, Mr. Potter?”

You’re biting down on a perfectly plump bottom lip and his eyes are still wide and he can’t do anything but laugh.

“How asinine of me. You’re a Ravenclaw if I remember, right? Used to study with Moony all the time…” James mutters like he’s discovered something monumental and then he whispers your name, and it sounds as soft as you—something unearthed and new. He likes the way it sounds coming from his mouth and by the quirk of your lip, you do too. “How could I forget you?” 

The two of you chuckle like how children share a secret and it’s all too confusing for his bundle of joy that comes bounding past the seats and pushing off his father’s lap. 

“Oof—” James wheezes as he gets the wind knocked out of him, hunching over in pain, “Careful H, holy sh—” He swallows down the rest of his thought as you raise an eyebrow at his language, instead scooping Harry into your arms and sitting him on the edge of the desk.

“Anyways, I just wanted to let you know that at Harry’s age, his brain is like a sponge—there’s a lot for him to learn and he’s obviously a lot like his daddy, so Daddy’s going to have to be more conscious of what he has to say.” 

Oh the irony.

“Daddy will then, yeah?” he chokes out, restraining himself at the joyous look on his kid’s face when Harry says, “Miss Pretty, can you be Daddy’s teacher too?”

You pat the boy’s head and pinch a chubby cheek, “He’s got a lot to learn too, right Harry? Daddy was always in detention when we were little too.”

James is stirring in his seat and feeling hot under your gaze as he watches you interact with his son. He kind of regrets letting Lily take the reins with all of Harry’s parent-teacher meetings because clearly, he’s been missing out.

“Daddy was also Head Boy, but okay.” The two of you are giggling at the disgruntled look he gives your comment and James feels outnumbered, but not in a way that bothers him. If he’s being honest, he can understand why Harry was so intent on always getting his homework done right.

A while after, you all walk towards the door and Harry’s proudly walking out with a “Dinomite!” sticker on his forehead as James and you catch up on trivial things and then…

“DADDY! YOU RUINED THE DINNER!”

Harry’s pointing at the overturned table in the hall that he seems to have missed earlier and James cringes as he feels an imminent tantrum—if you call him a hurricane wait until he starts crying like a tornado siren. But you come to the rescue and bend over to shake his shoulders, “It’s okay Harry that just means you can make Daddy dinner again!” The little one is rubbing his eyes and whining a bit more softly and his father is looking at you like you’re an angel on Earth.

“That’s our cue to go,” he laughs, squeezing your arm and shaking his head, “Wish I could bring you hom—That’s not. That didn’t come out right,” he stutters, “I mean that you’re kind of a miracle worker and clearly doing better than how I fare sometimes with him. I think we’re too alike.”

“You’re doing great and he’s an amazing kid,” you reassure him, pulling out a sticker and pressing it onto his lapel. It’s of a triceratops and says “No one tops you!” He reads it and smirks, the famous James Potter smolder coming out to play and you roll your eyes. Harry is tugging at both your hands and when you look down at him, he’s hopeful and looking at you with determination he must’ve got from his mother.

“Since Daddy’s ruined dinner would you like to teach him now Miss Pretty? He’s got a lot to learn like you said.”

You’re at a loss for words, trying to stutter your way out of this one but James thinks it’s the best idea he’s ever heard.

After all, like father, like son.

“Think I could even go for extra credit if I’m allowed, Miss Pretty.”

[natalievoncatte]

Kara knows, and that’s the problem.

She knows.

How does she know?

To put it simply, she’s Kryptonian. More specifically: a Kryptonian under a yellow sun, whose wavelengths of light bring forth her genetic heritage when she basks in its rays. If long lost Rao was once her father, Sol is her mother, raising her up to be all that she can be. A creation of a lost super-science, a power to rival gods, a force that made the Guardians tremble in their emerald tower.

Kara can see everything.

The world is alive with light. It cascades and bounces and caroms off of everything. More than that, Kara’s world is bathed in a thousand thousand hues the human eye will never know. When she looks at a person she can see the electrical conductivity of their skin and the heat bloom of their flesh and a myriad of other details, some of which other humans can pick up on a subconscious level, others that humans haven’t even discovered yet.

Kara can hear everything.

She can hear dog whistles and butterfly wings beating and the secret language of cats. She can hear the crackle of radio waves beating the atmosphere and the music of the spheres. She can memorize human heartbeats and pick out the slightest variation, the tiniest wobble that the owner of the heart never feels.

Kara can smell everything. She can sift between the scents of ingredients in her honey bun, detect poisons in a friend’s wine or flowers in a park half a state away. Sharks would be jealous of her. She can scent people but also their moods; fear smells horrific, sickly sweet and rotten. Joy smells hot and bold. When someone walks in the room, she can tell what they had for breakfast, smell of they’re sick, pick out the fragrances of their emotions.

Kara can feel everything. A touch can betray or affirm. To hear a heartbeat is one thing, to feel it another. Her fingertips can read the surface of another’s skin like braille and she can detect the slightest changes in temperature or perspiration, feel the thrum of contentment or fear in an embrace. Her touch is not dulled by her invulnerability. It as sensitive as her other senses.

Kara can remember everything. The day she stepped from her pod into the brilliant golden sunlight beneath a blue sky was the last time she would every forget; her now empowered brain can recall events in the finest detail, down to the soft timbre of another’s voice or the way her hair fell over her shoulder or the softness in her gaze. And so Kara’s memory is hers to be kept forever, never to lose the sight of her.

That is how Kara knows, and knowing that Lena Luthor loves her is a pain so terrible that she almost wishes she could be spared that pain. When Lena sees Kara, her heart leaps and her breath softens and she comes alive with light, bathed in an auric glow more beautiful than a red sunrise. Kara wishes that Lena could see herself as Kara sees her. Radiant, angelic, a little holy.

Lena loves Kara Danvers, the bumbling awkward nerdy shy girl from Vaguely Canada who brings her burgers and donuts and OTPs.

She doesn’t love Supergirl and Kara doesn’t think she could.

That’s how the torture happens. Kara’s infinite perception becomes a self-imposed exile. She sees and smells the way James lusts after Lena, right in front of her. Baffled, she listens to the calm in her heart when they kiss and once she wakes frantically in the night, reaching about to sift through the city soundscape when she hears Lena’s voice cry out, then the sound of Lena’s heart racing and other sounds, and not for the first time, she pleads with a god she doesn’t know to make her human and free her from this curse.

She seeks feeling of her own. It’s pleasant enough but it lacks something undefinable, like a pleasant chocolate cake that becomes unbearable because she could have had something far sweeter and more filling instead. He tries in a fumbling way but it’s to please his own ego more than sate her desire. Then one day he is gone and in his absence all Kara can feel is a dull numbness, a ragged wound with all the nerves scraped out so that only a dull absence has been left behind, leaving her broken in a way that cannot be defined much less repaired.

Kara cannot help but snap her attention to the sound of Lena growing agitated, no matter how distant or minor. She hears harsh words and the heavy thud of a limo door closing and hears the sharp intake of breath as James realizes the mistake he’s made, and though he is her friend and he matters to him she feels a feral, possessive joy that borders on the cruel. It is a hard feeling, a red feeling, a sharp smelling mean feeling that tastes cold on her tongue, this resentment of the man for having a pale shadow of what she could have but wouldn’t.

Lena loves Kara Danvers and Kara Danvers loves her back, but she can never know because to know she must know all of her. Know the Other, the Super, the Alien.

Kara is two people and one of those people has been, well, a bitch.

Because Kara feels spending else. A green feeling, a sick feeling, the feeling of blades flensing flesh from bone while her veins turn to glass and her body burns to ash, the shocking pain of a little piece of home. A little piece that Lena made and didn’t tell her, and Kara makes the worst mistake.

She stops being Supergirl and is just Kara Danvers in a colorful suit, angrily refusing to ask Lena the question: I love you, how could you do this to me?

She does love her. She loves her laugh and her secret smiles and how soft she looks when she’s deep in thought. She loves the pain in her, the mirror of her own. She cherishes it as she wants hers to be cherished, held close by someone who knows what it’s like to watch your world explode or slip beneath still waters and be gone forever. She knows what it’s like to wonder what could have been and know the price you paid for what you have now.

She wants Lena so terribly that she’d almost choose the pain of Kryptonite instead of an eternity of this longing. She needs her, craves her, thirsts for her.

One night Kara realizes what she’s been doomed to. Another will succeed where James failed, and Kara will be spared none of it, and it will endure forever. She will carry memories of Lena in another’s arms into the sun dies.

No.

“I don’t know why I agreed to this,” Lena says.

Kara -Supergirl- says nothing at first.

“I have to fly you.”

Lena nods. She’s doing this for Kara, because Kara asked. When Supergirl extends a hand, Lena takes it and Kara gently lifts her from the ground into a bridal carry, and they fly.

The trip takes nearly an hour. Kara can’t fly too fast or too high. Lena accepts it without complaint.

They land far north of National City, where the warmer climate yields to deciduous rainforest. Kara brings them down on a bare hilltop, an island in a vast ocean of trees. Nearby on a folding table is a basket. It might be important later or it might not. She might have a life of joy or she might spend the rest of forever in a wasteland, waking each day to grief.

There’s only one way to find out. Part of her, the part that hopes, the part that makes her Supergirl, believes in this, in herself, in this moment. She has to, because the chain of events that led her here, flung across endless space to stand in starlight with the most beautiful woman in this world, it demands that it happen. This is fate. It has to be.

Supergirl stands beside Lena. She raises an arm and points.

“There. Second star on the left, and straight on till morning.”

Lena quirks an eyebrow and looks at her.

“You brought me out here for this?”

“Do you see that red light?” Kara asks. “It’s very faint. I don’t know if a human can see it or not.”

“I just see stars.”

“It’s Rao, my sun. I can see him. If I had a powerful enough telescope, I could see it. Krypton. The explosion won’t be visible to Earth for a thousand years.”

Lena looks up, her features bathed in moonlight- alive with a chaotic explosion of hues she’ll never see. She blazes in the night, her eyes a kaleidoscope from which Kara can never truly look away. She’s a rainbow.

Kara falters. Whatever she does tonight, this is it. This is forever.

“You said Kara would meet me here,” Lena says.

“Wait here, please.”

Kara turns quickly and walks into the dark, cape spreading behind her. Once she’s out of sight, she changes without restraining her speed, and walks back to Lena in a hoodie and leggings, hair in a loose ponytail and the back of her neck and hands in her pockets.

She walks back to Lena and stands beside her.

“Hello, Kara.”

“Hi, Lena.”

There is a tense silence between them. Kara devours the moment, consumes it so it will live forever, just in case this is the last time she sees Lena.

“We’re not far from the reservoir,” says Lena. “Why did you ask Supergirl to bring us here?”

Kara swallows hard. “I realized something really important near here.”

Lena turns to her. “What was that?”

“That there was someone who mattered to me a lot, and that I was willing to risk a lot to protect her. There was a moment where I thought I was going to have time make a choice, you or the chemicals. I didn’t have to but I would have. I would have picked you. I will always pick you. I can’t help it.”

Lena is not stunned. Her heart doesn’t miss a beat, but Kara can sense her apprehension, her fear, and something deeper than that.

“You’re Supergirl.”

Kara lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and her legs wobble. There it is. It’s done. She’s free.

“I should have told you sooner.”

“You should have. You should have told me when we fought about the Kryptonite. I thought you would, hoped you would. I wanted you to so desperately, wanted you to trust me.”

Kara’s heart sinks.

“Wait, you knew? How?”

Lena laughs softly.

“The way you touch me. When you pick me up and carry me somewhere, you have this way about you. When I’m in your arms I feel like I’m the most precious thing in the world.”

“You are,” Kara says.

“That and you told me you flew to my office on a bus.”

Kara makes a small, choked sound.

“Oh.”

Lena scuffs the heel of her boot against the ground.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was scared. I thought if I did, you’d see it as a confrontation and feel threatened. What about you?”

“I’m Kara. Supergirl is something I do, not what I am. When I’m with you I’m just me. I lose that with everyone when they find out. Kara isn’t my secret identity. Supergirl is. I’m just me. I just want to be me, I need to be me, and when I’m with you I am most myself. It’s like laying down all my burdens.”

“Same,” Lena said, softly. “You’re the only one who doesn’t treat me like an extension of my brother.”

Kara sighed. “Should we talk about the Kryptonite?”

“No,” Lena says. “Fuck the Kryptonite. Why’d you bring me out here?”

“To tell you.”

“Great, you told me. What did you think would happen next?”

“I thought you’d be mad.”

Lena nods and seems to think about that for a moment. Her pulse has quickened and her jaw is tight.

“Let me ask you a different question. What did you want to happen?”

Kara swallowed hard. “What I wanted was… for us to make up. Be friends. Work it out. I don’t want to lose you.”

Lena turns and looks at her.

“Bullshit.”

Kara flinches.

“That’s bullshit, Kara, and we both know it. You’re a terrible liar. I wouldn’t be surprised if half the staff at CatCo know who you are. Don’t lie to me. Please. Give me the truth.”

Kara looks up briefly, past Lena. She sees that faint red glow and her heart swells in her chest.

“I love you. That’s the truth. I’ve been in love with you probably since our first lunch together and I want you so badly that I can’t breathe when I think about it. I know a dozen languages and half of them aren’t from Earth, and there aren’t enough words in all of them to tell you how kind and wonderful and beautiful you are. I love you so much that sometimes I think,” Kara fights the tightening of her throat, “I think I’m almost glad that I’m here and not back up there under that red glow. I don’t think I could choose a life without you.”

Lena lets out a long breath and Kara is bombarded with sensations. Lena’s pulse races and her shoulders relax and her skin blooms with an ethereal luminous riot of color.

“I’ll never lie to you again. I promise.”

Kara can taste everything.

Right now the only thing she can taste is Lena.

[tom-foolery-incorporated]

plsssss plsss make another earthspark bumble x reader GN smut Im begging on my knees 🙏🙏, lowkey idk I like the eye contact one u made, but like maybe make it with a more breeding kink 👀👀 THANK U 🩷

Everytime i get an anon asking me to write I start giggling and kicking my feet and I also feel like that one picture of Bugs Bunny dressed as a king. Like abdhfbbahsbdhf I never thought my writing would get so much attention and it makes me feel so happy that y’all like it so much!!!

Gender neutral AFAB reader, racially ambiguous, breeding kink, dirty talk, size difference, Dom Bumblebee and sub reader, pregnancy talk, lactation mention

You straddled his hips, his massive spike sitting against your stomach leaking transfluid onto your skin. It can be easy to forget just how much bigger Bumblebee is when comparing him to Optimus or Megatron but you could barely touch his berth below you with your tiptoes as you sat on him. His massive servos engulfed your thighs in a loving grip as he smirked up at you.

“You’re so cute,” Bumblebee purred running his servos up your thighs to hold your hips. “I can’t believe you were getting all hot and bothered watching me train.”

You whined and grabbed his servos. You wanted nothing more than to slobber on his spike or grab the fat girth of his shaft and work him until he painted you with his overload. Yet you knew better than to grab him without his permission. You know you’d be in for a night of Bee either edging you then leaving you high and dry for days on end or him overstimulating you until you couldn’t move and could only sob out his name. While the latter sounded lovely, you knew he’d most likely resort to the first option just to see how long it takes for you to pounce on him once again so he can bend you over his thigh and leave your poor rear sore with his servo.

Bumblebee was usually such a softy but having you here in his berth, nude and willing, made something switch in his circuits.

“I really turned you into a desperate little slut, huh?” Bee laughed pulling your hips forward so you’d rub your wet heat against his spike. You moaned out his name in a shaky voice as your clit bumped against the hot metal plating that stood so proudly against you.

“There you go,” Bumblebee cooed while guiding your hips. “Keep sounding like that and I’ll take good care of you, babe.”

You angled your hips in his grasp so your folds could better glide over his shaft. Bee let out a low rumble of his engine watching how you sought out his spike for your pleasure. He pulled you further along his spike so you were seated along the length of it. Your folds effectively holding him between the lips of your pussy. You could feel the heat of the energon running through him as his biolights pulsed in bliss.

“You wanna bounce on it? Have your cute little, squishy valve spread open and fucked?” Bumblebee couldn’t hide the shaky excitement in his voice as you slid along his length. “Primus, I wanna be inside you so bad. Make you go stupid with pleasure. You want that, baby?”

You nodded eagerly as you gyrated your hips against Bee’s spike in time with how his servos guided you. “Please!” You begged practically panting in excitement. “Bee, I want you to fuck me so bad!”

Bumblebee rolled his helm back releasing a slew of curses in Cybertronian. “I should just have you strapped to my spike,” Bee moaned pushing his hips up against you. “Can’t go one click without needing to be in this pussy.”

You whined grabbing onto his servos like they were your only tether to his world. Bumblebee was going to be the death of you. He had absolutely ruined you for anyone else with how he fucked you. Tender love making mixed with brutal fucking like you were nothing more than a toy for him to use and all the while he’s telling you how good you feel, how cute you look, and how he can’t wait to fuck you again after he overloads deep inside of you.

You tilted your hips forward hoping to angle your hole towards his spike’s tip in order to try to get him inside you as soon as possible.

“Always so eager,” Bee teased lifting your body with ease. He angled his hips towards yours, the length of his spike sliding along your slick folds until the tip slapped against your clit. You frantically reached down to grab him and assist his throbbing cable towards your entrance.

You could feel the tip of his spike kiss your entrance. Bumblebee was so tantalizingly close to stuffing you full. “My good little spike sleeve,” Bumblebee moaned as he pushed his hips up towards you pushing the head of his spike into your wet pussy with a satisfying pop. You threw your head back and moaned out his name.

Bee guided your body down his spike letting you feel every ridge, bump, and curve of him as he filled up your needy hole. You whined his name when your clit finally made contact with the heated metal of his pelvis. You could feel him rearranging your insides with just the sheer size of his cock. You felt incredibly full and speared on his phallic cable. No matter how you moved the sheer size and weight of him stayed prominent inside you.

“Feel good?” Bee teased giving you a gentle roll of his hips that had you crying out in pleasure. “Cute little thing all desperate to get fucked,” he moaned giving you a sharp thrust that had tears rolling down your cheeks. “Primus you feel so good. I wanna pump this pussy full of my overload.”

You cried out for him, your hands gripping his servos tightly. “Please!” You mewed trying to bounce yourself on his spike despite the firm grip he had on your hips. “Knock me up! Put a baby in me!”

The rumble and vibrations of Bee’s revving engine jittered your bones and only served to make you wetter around his spike. “Yeah?” He said breathlessly. “You want me to fuck a sparkling into you?”

You nodded and threw your head back when Bee finally started moving his hips in a steady rhythm. The wet slapping of skin against metal echoed throughout his habsuite as he pulled you up with his servos then pushed you down in time with his thrusts.

“Humans get all cute and round when you’re knocked up,” Bee groaned imagining you so cutely swollen with his sparkling. So clumsy getting used to how big your stomach had gotten to grow another being deep in your womb; how you’d rely on him to take care of you. Bumblebee’s pace quickened when he thought about how big your tummy would get trying to accommodate a Cybertronian. Your soft, little human body pushed to its limits after he knocked you up.

You whimpered feeling his metal digits slide up your body and run over your nipples. “You start making milk too, huh?” Bee moaned as his cooling fans worked in overtime. He pinched your nipple and gave it a tug as your body spasmed. Your eyes shot open as the premature orgasm hit you like a tidal wave. Bee watched you shiver and struggle through your bliss in both awe and amusement. Your poor body absolutely wrecked with pleasure and yet he continued fucking you through your orgasm as if nothing had happened. Deep rolling thrusts parting your walls as you clamped down on him like a vice. He continued lifting and lowering your body with ease to meet each one of his powerful thrusts.

“That good?” Bee teased as you started to struggle in his grip. The overstimulation started settling in as he continued his pace from before. Your pussy stung in a way that made it impossible to ask Bee to stop. His spike tormented your pussy yet felt so amazing fucking deep into you that you couldn’t bear to have him stop.

“Bee!” You slurred trying to find any bearing to this mortal plane; anyway to ground yourself as he fucked you.

“I’m right here, baby,” Bee cooed giving your nipple another pinch and tug. “I’m right here.”

You sobbed feeling so pleasured beyond what your mind could grasp. “I love you!” You cried holding onto his servos as your only life line.

“Frag,” Bee moaned worrying his lower derma between his dentas. “I love you so much. I love how this pussy takes me so well. You’re so beautiful! Gonna knock you up real good, make you fucking pregnant!” Bumblebee’s thrusting became frantic as he focused on his goal. His sweet sparkmate round with his sparkling. No one would doubt that you were claimed by him when they saw how round you were carrying evidence of how well he fucked you. Any wandering eyes gawking at your beautiful form would be reminded that you were stuffed full of his transfluid the second they see your swelling stomach.

“Bee!!” You wailed as a jet of squirt erupted from your pussy and coated his metal plating. The slick, juicy noises made by your combined bodies became even louder with the added lubrication that jolted out of your body.

“Take it!” Bee cried feeling his overload moving through his body. “Take it all and get fucking pregnant!” He cried through gritted dentas. He pulled you down so your hips were tightly pressed against his as he orgasm raked through him. You could feel your body swell trying to make room for the amount of transfluid Bumblebee pumped into you. Your whole body shivered in delight feeling your womb be packed full of Bumblebee’s hot overload.

“So good,” Bee whined with a shiver. “You always feel so good.”

You groaned letting yourself fall forward onto his plating when his servos lightened their grip on you. Bee ran one of his servos up your back soothingly as you rested your head against his metal body. “You did so good,” Bee praised basking in the afterglow of both of your orgasms. “You always do so good taking me.”

You pecked soft kisses against his abdomen plating making Bee hum in contentment. “Give me a moment and I should be able to go again in about an hour,” you purred running your hands along his transformation seems.

“Frag,” Bee groaned. “You and your pussy are gonna be the death of me.”

[phosphns]

hihi. Seth Cohen smut?

ᝰ . shut the fuck up, seth cohen blurb

“okay babe — slow down your horses! not for god’s but for my sake! — holy shit,” he mumbled between one moan and another, his hands hooked your hips in a bumbling way as you repeatedly impaled yourself on his dick.

you moved your hair to one side with a hand, while the other one wandered around his chest, sticky with sweat, to his face. you leaned in, stopping him from saying another nonsense of his, trapping his lips in a heated kiss, continuing to bounce on his dick.

he whimpered in your mouth when you increased the speed, making you get wetter. “y-you are — fuck! you’re killing my dick,” he said looking upp at you. his body was quite trembling under yours, he struggled to keep his eyes open and his lips were slightly parted. you slowed down to rotate your hips on his length, feeling him caressing your spongy insides. you bit your lips to hold back a moan, but you miserably failed when you felt him twitching inside you. he was about to speak again but you preceded him, “not another fucking word.”

“you can’t just speed up and slow down like that-” he tried but you slammed a hand on his mouth, starting to move on him once again, setting your pace and grinding on him. you knew he was overstimulated, you could tell by the way his hands loosen up on your hips and by the way his thighs shook.

“will you shut the fuck up, cohen?” you asked rhetorically while you continued moving on him roughly. your hand found his and led him to your clit, forcing him to rub it. you were close, your walls tightening on his hard member.

when you felt him twitching again, you reached your highest point: your orgasm hit you hard, milking him with every drop. you continued to ride your high out on him, while he was like in trance — looking up at you, his face sweaty and his eyes begging you to finish him off.

you smirked at him — “what? my little yapper boy needs something?” you teased, almost stilling your movements. he nodded eagerly, his hips bucking up in search of some relief. but you weren’t having it. “you ain’t got any words now?”

“please — please princess-” his hands flew on your hips, tentatively caressing you as a plead.

you pretended to think about it, “mh — since you asked so nicely,” you lifted up, pulling out his dick from your pussy, strands of your cream and his arousal connected your thighs to his balls, and as much as you claimed it didn’t, the sight was getting you worked up again.

you positioned yourself between his thighs and wrapped your finger around his throbbing cock, which you had the suspect could bust just at the contact. you rubbed him up and down, looking at him directly in his eyes.

“like this baby? you like it? you asked, squeezing gently his tip with your middle and pointer finger. you approached to it, brushing your lips against it, earning a quiet whimper from him.

“babe... if you don't-” he stumbled over his words “stop teasing...”

you decided to fulfill his request and finally took him in your mouth, wrapping your pump lips around his dick, kitty-licking his tip as you hollowed your cheeks, forcing yourself to accept the whole length in your warm mouth. he tried to grab your hair with his hand, but you harshly stopped him, slapping his hand down on the bed as he sighed.

however, it took less than two minutes to have him relapsing in your mouth, he moaned loudly, as his cock spasmed — warm seed filled your cavity, ending up directly in your throat.

you continued to pump him with your right hand up and down, while you sucked on his tip to swallow even the last drop.

when he finished, you pulled your mouth away from his dick, your hand still stroking him gently as you got on him again, but he took your hand away, “nuh-huh, if you touch my poor soldier again i’ll kill you — nah, scratch that, i’ll never stop talking again.”

yaps. i couldn’t picture him in anything but a sub scenario… i can’t imagine SETH being a DOM, like wdym he’s just a nerd — ok stop. anyway, live love laugh seth cohen. ALSO seth edit

tags 💌 @ultrviolenxe ៹ @courta13 .

wc. 699

[janeyshivers]

i think a big part of the reason why, even when Pratchett was alive, it was always Rowling who was held up as the gold standard of a modern British fantasy author, is that Pratchett was above all else just far more honest about like, The English writ large.

a lot of ink has been spilled on the saccharine nostalgia of Harry Potter books, particularly as they went on, that longing for the WW2 Blitz spirit that Rowling herself didn't actually live through, but is lionised in our culture and was subsequently regurgitated uncritically by her, on account of her being an unimaginative hack. "keep calm and carry on" is the core aesthetic of the later books, while the earlier ones are far more of the sort of irritating, faux-charming, brilliant baffling bouncing Britishness that captured the hearts of teaboos who knew no better around the world, and also presented a highly self-flattering image to the people who have to actually live on this shithole island. this was especially true of cultural institutions such as schools, libararies, etc, who found it germaine to push these middling children's books relentlessly on kids, while massive multimillion dollar movie projects were cranked out, because they were deeply, painfully in love with a cutesy mirage of England that we like to project to the world to cover for the fact that this place is the husk of a dead empire, inhabited by tiny islands of obscene hoarded wealth in an increasingly desperate sea of insane deprivation and poverty.

and on a certain surface-level reading, you could almost accuse Pratchett of doing the same thing. after all, he also wrote whimsical fantasy tales largely set in a transparently England-ish setting (that is, Ankh-Morpork and the surrounding countryside areas on the Discworld). they even feature lots of witches and wizards! his books are full of bumbling, good-natured Englishmen doffing their caps to the lord, scenic countryside vistas, dirty and yet charming city streets, bustling fairs, rascally pickpockets, and generally a lot of the same aesthetic signifiers of Rowling's earlier work especially.

but.

read any amount of Pratchett's stuff and you realise very quickly that he understands that there is a persistent, genuinely violent nastiness underpinning a lot of this stuff. I Shall Wear Midnight is a good example, as the honest, hard-working country folk of the Chalk never even acknowledge the shameful mob killing of the old toothless woman who Tiffany has had to bury. these charming communities are places where well-known cases of domestic violence go unaddressed until a pregnant girl is beaten so badly she has a miscarriage, and they are places where miserable, curtain-twitching sneaks spread lies and rumours with impunity. Guards, Guards! fits here as well, a book about how the not-insincere love of the people of Ankh Morpork for their new king is insane and destructive and ends up getting quite a lot of innocent people killed.

what i appreciate most about how Pratchett talks about this stuff is that neither the nastiness nor the more charming elements are artifice. while they seem to exist as a contradiction at first glance, a core feature of English culture from Pratchett's perspective is that these impulses exist in a tense balance at all times. Mr Petty hits his daughter until she miscarries, and also stings his hands gathering nettles to make a little grave for the poor kid before trying to hang himself. that doesn't make what he did ok, but it does mean grappling with the fact that people are complicated and don't make sense, culture doesn't entirely cohere, and that the things you might like about "Englishness" are part and parcel of some genuinely horrifying shit.

obviously i'm not going to sit here and pretend that Pratchett was some plucky underdog compared to Rowling, the dude had a knighthood, and there are even a few movies based on his stuff (I'm rather partial to the 2008 The Colour of Magic adaptation myself), although nothing on the scale of the Potter movies. but at a glance, it does seem strange that Rowling was our nation's marquis literary export in the 2000s, considering that Pratchett was more established, working in the same genre, and also a significantly more technically skilled and insightful writer than her. but, that's the thing, he was insightful enough that his writing didn't make for decent cultural slop like Rowling's did. Harry Potter is vapid enough for corporate interests and cultural institutions to build a multinational media empire on, not through some insidious conspiracy to poison the minds of a generation of irritating millenials, but because it was there and it was popular enough and it was easy to use, because it's not very complicated or challenging. Discworld is not perfect by any means, and i have my personal disagreements with Pratchett's (relatively) rosy perspective on humans as being fundamentally very decent. but the stories make you think, they encourage you to engage with the world critically, and they are written with a degree of empathy and kindness that clash with any earnest attempt to shore up "English values".

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

Play Date

Wandanat x human pet!fem!reader

Summary: Wanda and Natasha have been looking for a pet for some time, but they've had no luck until they meet you, will you be a good fit for their lives?

Word Count: 585

Warnings: 18+ due to themes, MDNI, heavy pet play, human pets, abuse, violence, hurt/comfort

Authors notes: These two are so cute!

A few weeks after the welcoming party, Wanda and Natasha decided to arrange a playdate with Agatha and her bunny, Scratchy. You were excited but a bit nervous. Scratchy had been shy and quiet at the party, and you hoped to make a new friend.

Wanda prepped you for the playdate, giving you a quick brush and dressing you in a cute little outfit. Natasha chuckled as she watched Wanda fuss over you. "You're going to have a great time, Bumble. Just be yourself," Natasha said, giving you a reassuring pat. You nodded your head, tail wagging slightly.

When Agatha and Scratchy finally arrived, you felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. You were bouncing on your toes while Scratchy, a petite Holland lop bunny hybrid with soft lop ears and a twitching nose, she stood close to Agatha, her large eyes taking in her surroundings cautiously.

Wanda and Agatha greeted each other warmly, and soon the two of them were chatting away, leaving you and Scratchy to get acquainted.

You approached Scratchy slowly, giving her a friendly wag of your tail. She looked at you with wide eyes, her nose twitching as she sniffed the air. To break the ice, you grabbed one of your favorite toys—a soft, squeaky ball—and placed it in front of her. Scratchy hesitated for a moment before tentatively picking up the ball and giving it a gentle squeeze. The squeak made her jump slightly, but she quickly relaxed and even smiled a little.

The two of you started playing, taking turns with the ball and chasing each other around the yard. Scratchy's shyness began to melt away as she got more comfortable, and you found yourself enjoying her company. While you had your tail wags, Scratchy had these little thump jumps you later found out were called binkies.

Wanda, Natasha, and Agatha watched from a distance, their conversation occasionally punctuated with laughter as they saw you and Scratchy having fun. The bond you were forming felt natural and comforting.

After a while, you both needed a break and sat down on the grass, panting lightly from all the running around. Scratchy looked at you with a smile, and you wagged your tail happily in response.

As the playdate continued, you and Scratchy explored the yard, shared moments of quiet companionship, and even took a nap under the shade of a tree. You nuzzled into her, your cheeks brushing and little licks from each other as you settled in. The bond you were forming felt natural and comforting.

When it was time for Agatha and Scratchy to leave, you felt a twinge of sadness but also a sense of contentment. You had made a new friend, and you knew there would be more playdates in the future. Though you still bit onto Scratchy’s shirt with your teeth, pulling back and not wanting to let go as you whined at your Mommy. She coerced you with treats to let go, but Scratchy still gave you many licks which you reciprocated.

Wanda and Natasha both praised you for being such a good host, and Wanda gave you a big hug. "You did great today, Bumble," she said, her voice full of pride.

Natasha nodded in agreement. "Looks like you and Scratchy are going to be good friends."

You felt a warm glow inside, knowing that you now had a new friend to share your adventures with. The playdate had been a success, and you couldn't wait for the next one.

[rabbiteclair]

they should keep making new kinds of quarks and let me name them. i think i'd be good at it. so you'd have like

Up quark

Down quark

Top quark

Bottom quark

Charm quark

Strange quark

Left quark

Right quark (seriously, rookie mistake not using these two already. i have to do everything around here.)

Frisky quark

Extra quark

Brittle quark

Whimsy quark

Glitter quark

Bumble quark

Twitch quark

Sassy quark

Flavor quark

Spark quark

Bent quark

Mimsy quark

Ponder quark

Hollow quark

Stout quark

Gleam quark

Jazz quark

Pretty quark

Monster quark

Curve quark

Serene quark

Proud quark

Limber quark

Sharp quark

Rumble quark

Mirth quark

Real quark

Invert quark

Zest quark

Spin quark (this one was chosen to make it more confusing to talk about physics, for no good reason)

Color quark (and this one even more so)

Pause quark

Vivid quark

Lazy quark

Bounce quark

Ornate quark

Fuzzy quark

[saey707]

Paranoiac

✿ Prompt: You make a home video with Yone, Kayn, and Ezreal ✿

♡ champion focuses: yone, kayn, ezreal ♡ tw: HEAVY nsfw, vulgar language ♡ Female reader

Author's Note: I needed a break from all the requests and wanted to make something a tad more self-indulgent to help myself get out of writer's block/burnout ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ This piece is probably going to be my most NSFW work to date so please read at your own discretion!! Hope you guys enjoy! (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

It was your first time making a home video, and frankly, you weren't sure what to expect... At the very least, your three friends would be at your side to help you, and capture all the best angles! Well... To their best ability, of course...~

There were cameras pointing at you from 3 different angles, but only one of them was giving any good results...

The first was the camera in Kayn's hands, trembling between his shaky fingers. He would have been able to hold it steady, completely focused on you... If only you weren't about to give him the best fucking head of his life!

"Wrap those pretty lips around it, princess..." Kayn hastily huffed out. You were apprehensive about the idea of allowing Kayn to speak to you so obscenely... But at the same time, you fucking loved the desperate, raspy tones of his voice, encouraging you to let him fuck your mouth.

Kayn was standing before your sitting figure atop the bed. The camera stuttered as he moved his hand to roughly grab at your exposed breast, giving it a generous squeeze and massaging it between his fingers.

He soon after took hold of your chin, gently caressing your soft skin. His grip was firm to keep your eyes directed up and locked with his own. His cock was buried deep inside your mouth as you rocked your head back and forth, servicing his length.

A series of choked sobs and moans bumbled up from the back of your throat, the bad boy's attention fixed solely on you through his phone's cracked screen. Steadying himself, Kayn began to tangle his fingers through your hair, allowing his hips to rock in unison with that pretty, pretty mouth of yours.

"Ughhh, princess, that's it... Take all of my fucking cock inside that dirty mouth of yours~!"

Kayn would happily admit that he absolutely fucking loved seeing such a pained expression on your face. Was it because of him or the man you were romping up and down on...

"Agh~ Yes! Yes! Yes! You feel so good... Keep sucking~" Kayn begged, "Do you like how Yone's dick feels inside of you, princess? Huh? Do you want him to keep fucking you?"

"Mmmmhmphh~!!" You responded against Kayn's length, eliciting a quiet chuckle from the man beneath you.

"You're such a filthy fucking whore~" The producer spoke.

The second camera was, in fact, Yone's, partially capturing you bouncing up and down on his dick. His length was flushed red, slicked over with a film of precum, sliding in and out of you effortlessly as he slammed his hips up into your pussy, while you simultaneously sucked and bounced.

His free hand slid up and down your back, slapping your ass every time you went up and following it with a gentle rub. "Mm~ Your pussy feels so good, sweetheart..."

Pent up and unable to hold himself back any longer, Yone slid out of you, positioning the camera to capture a high-quality clip of him climaxing all over your backside. You gasped at the sudden hot, sticky sensation. Hell, you felt a little empty without Yone's dick pounding and filling you up... but were shut up almost immediately when you felt someone climb behind you.

"Knock yourself out, Ezreal~" Yone mumbled sleepily.

The final camera was Ezreal's, and he was all for assuring his section of the film had you and him in it. His arm was extended, capturing a selfie of you sucking off Kayn while he kissed your cheek. His chest was pressed against your back, sandwiching you between Kayn's cock in your mouth and Yone laying beneath the both of you.

"Come here, kitty kitty~ Smile for the camera... Uh huh~ Lift that ass up of yours for me… That's it!!"

Ezreal held your hips with his free hand, slowly pushing himself inside of your ass. The pain was almost unbearable. You never allowed anyone to take you there before! Still, Ezreal was gentle, allowing you to adjust to his size before he began to rock his hips.

Your arms gave out on you from the pressure, but that wasn't going to stop Ezreal. He positioned his camera against a pillow, letting it go so he could wrap his arms around you, holding you up in his strong embrace. "A-Ah~! Mmfph~ It feels so fucking good!" The pop star prince exclaimed while he fucked you.

It didn't take long for Yone to regain his sense of control, pulling your thighs back down so he could push himself back into your throbbing pussy. His fingers massaged your clitoris, amplifying your pleasure until you felt entirely numb. "Yone, you're going to make her pass out!" "Nonsense Ezreal, she's a good girl. She can take it!" "Hey, make sure you losers keep her clean! I want to fuck one of her holes next!!"

Every hole of yours was being generously filled, every camera capturing you being abused by three handsome men. And you loved it. You loved being used. You loved the way their cocks felt inside of you. You loved how they treated you like their little fuck toy... And you loved the way all three of them climaxed simultaneously inside of you!

Their savory moans drove you beyond the boundary, your eyes rolling back as you finally got your first fresh breath of air. Your body shivered, permitting them to move you like a ragdoll as they repositioned themselves differently.

You wanted more... No, you needed more~!

"Use her well, boys... Our next stop won't be until we're in the next country over!"

[meruz]

hi meruz please tell me all your thoughts on outer wilds I am absolutely Living rn

HI oh my god i have so many thoughts. I think I'm gonna keep posting fanart so this definitely isnt gonna be my last word on the matter but wow what a game! um... idk if I wanna just type forever but I can give you at least a few key thoughts I had...

It took me a second to get into! I had been waiting for the switch port so I was really excited starting out but there were a couple early play sessions months apart where I was struggling with the controls and overwhelmed with the openness...I have a hard time with a lot of open worlds games because I just..dont have a lot of free time LOL. But I was complaining abt this to my brother and he was also having a hard time rly digging into the game so when he flew over to visit me a couple weeks ago I was like ok lets do this together (incentivizing gaming by making it social/co-operative). And we had a blast!!! it rly is the type of game you can play as co-op just by having someone else on the couch or on stream doin the thinking alongside you or bouncing theories off of. I do think he's a much better puzzle solver than me though lol (he works in research, so he's got that researcher brain), he made a lot of the leaps of logic way early while I was still turning things over in my head lmao.... AND he's better with the controls because he plays a lot of flight sims?! i think he got annoyed watching me bumble around anytime i had the controller. my sole contribution was doing the stealthy parts in the dlc because im stupid and consequentially lack fear.

I kind of grew up playing majoras mask and windwaker like that was the era of zelda games I was rly activated and engaged for as a kid and I didn't realize how much I was missing and craving that type of experience again LOL. I think especially with how I personally felt that tears of the kingdom was narratively and structurally a step down from botw... idk... i mean you can tell from interviews abt Outer Wilds that the devs clearly have a lot of affection for and thoughts abt the Zelda series as well and I think Outer Wilds was like such a good encapsulation of everything I loved abt those games and also everything I wish they would do lol!! IT ALSO kind of solved a lot of my pain points with open world games and did it in a way that was so elegant... like I think i initially recoiled at the openness but then when i started exploring and realized the scope and level of detail it rly clicked into place.. im just in awe.

umm i love every hearthian they were all so charming. it rly did feel like an older school of nintendo rpg where every npc has so much personality lol. i loved that every alien race in the game was some weird animal like the designs for all of them were rly good. i love that it was a "worn" universe and that everything looked old or used. I love astronomy and space and space concepts but I don't really like really lofty and impersonal/minimalist scifi so i feel like this was a great and accessible art direction for me personally. i especially thought the backpacking/outerdoorsy aesthetic was really inspired! I think "exploration" sometimes exists on a spectrum where one end of it can be really colonialist/militaristic LOL... UM which im not like. fully against i think it can be an interesting idea to dissect? but i feel like we see it a lot and it was neat to see this which felt like the complete opposite end of that spectrum. weirdly enough playing Outer Wilds made me immediately go and finally finish Firewatch right after but I felt a little spoiled I was like ehh..that was good but it wasn't Outer Wilds LOL.

i think a lot of the themes reminded me of lord of the rings/tolkien lore LOL IDK. I GUESS THIS IS LIKE BIG SPOILERS SO if you havent played dont read but like. the entire concept of being born at the end of a great and enormous world/age with a rich history and you only getting to see the end of it, living in the shadow of great civilization...keeping your humble home in your heart idk. but then also the new world being a song ... I'm a sucker. I love it.

yeah sorry only compliments. anyways yeah i want to do more fanart... soon!! hopefully!

[qwimchii]

Begging for Capt. Price filth 😭

𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘦 — 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦

𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘳!𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘹 𝘧!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘶𝘱, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘤 — 5.1𝘬

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘳!𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵&𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘫𝘰𝘣 & 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, (𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭) 𝘴𝘪𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬?? (𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨?? 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘳… 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳), 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬-𝘪𝘯𝘴 <3

note: pure filth… someone possessed me when i wrote this idk it wasnt me u guys, istg. also, the title inspired by aphrodite by rini!

with a swirl of hot, slick shame in your stomach and a hard swallow, you glanced up from the map directions on your phone to the establishment in front of you.

you didn’t know what you were expecting. when your friend Kylie had recommended you to this place several months ago, you had rolled your eyes, nose wrinkling at the idea that some people would spend so much money on a place like this.

a couple weeks ago, several hours into your birthday party, Kylie had privately pulled you aside from the get-together to hand you a little gift bag with hot pink tissue paper scrunched up at the top. your eyes flitted from the bag to the beaming smile on her face, a nervous laugh building in the back of your throat.

“open it!” she prodded, directing your hand to the tissue paper. pushing it aside, you reached down into the bag and flexed your fingers around till you found a birthday envelope and… something else.

you pulled it out, eyes flicking over the sleek black card with a fancy, modern print etched into the front. the garden of eden.

a bitter feeling pooled into your mouth. “a business card…?”

she bounced lightly on her feet, bumbling as she shook her head, speaking with a low thrill. “remember that amazing spa and amazing masseur i was telling you about?”

she paused for dramatic effect, the grin stretching her cheeks almost comically. your brows just raised slightly in a silent offering for her to continue.

“i know how much you’ve been stressed out lately, so i got you a gift card for an intimate massage!”

at that, you stifled a groan, dismayed that your friend would give you such an expensive birthday gift. but knowing the fact that Kylie sported a louis vuitton purse and matching suitcase on that last girl’s travel trip you had, could you really be surprised?

not to mention the fact that Kylie’s husband had gifted her the keys to a new audi at her last birthday party. which was hosted on a yacht.

a tight grimace pinched your face as you recited a strained thank you, letting her pull you into a suffocating hug as she rambled on about something you weren’t really listening to.

you couldn’t help but grimace all over again as you rejoined the party. why was she going to these intimate massage places when she had a husband?

you’d find out soon you supposed, narrowing your eyes at the sleek exterior of the spa. the unmistakable logo illuminated above the trim entrance. the garden of eden.

you were ready to pull into a cracked parking lot riddled with potholes and a crumbling brick building with a neon sign that flashed obnoxiously. not this epitome of wealth.

before you could tuck your tail between your legs and flee, you braved the street, striding over the crosswalk with a confident step that slowly waned the closer you approached the intimidating entrance. by the time you swung the glass door open and stood in front of the receptionist, you were a muddle of anxiety and regret.

the receptionist glanced over the top of her computer, a look of suppressed impatience on her face when you said nothing, blubbering like a fish as she flicked two strands of hair out the way, her hair gelled back into a tight updo.

“name?” she said with a raised, perfectly manicured brow. you gave it meekly and she nodded, fingers moving over the keyboard with mechanic clacks.

“and what service are you here for today, ma’am?”

you withered where you stood. “intimate massage.”

but she just nodded, not even sparing you a glance as she slid a clipboard over the counter.

“fill this out and sign here please,” she directed, tapping an acrylic nail at the bottom of the page, eyes still trained on the screen of her computer.

you just nodded dumbly, picking up a pen as your eyes ran over the checkboxes of the page, the hair on the back of your neck bristling as you let out a squeak of surprise.

you bringed the paper closer to your eyes just to make sure you weren’t dreaming. in a list of checkboxes beneath the precursory personal information, you swallowed as you absorbed the contents.

please check the box(es) of your preference:

silent massage (no verbal cues)

verbal praise

verbal degradation

groping

choking (light/rough)

edging

orgasm denial

slapping (breasts/vagina/glutes)

clitoris play

vaginal penetration with fingers...

you felt like throwing up as the list went on, endlessly went on, and ended with a space for your signature. for your consent, you presumed, feeling nauseous as you swayed on your feet.

“ma’am?” 

you head snapped up to the receptionist who was tapping a payment terminal on the counter, brows furrowed as she looked you over.

“sorry,” you said weakly, fumbling to reach into your purse and snap open your wallet, fishing out the gift card and shoving it into the machine before scrawling down the necessary information into the blanks of the document and almost closing your eyes when you checked certain boxes down the list, flushed with shame. ready to just get this over with.

“are you aware that this gift card requests for a specific masseur?”

you just nodded, the words sliding from your ears as she listed off more precautionary procedurals before finally gesturing to another glass door to the side of the front reception.

“that way please, miss. your masseur will be waiting for you at the end of the hall.”

blindly, you strode over to push the doors open, letting out a strained exhale as you walked down the hallway with careful steps, taking in the contemporary art stacked along the walls and the sweet tinge of a calming incense in the air that didn’t calm the nerves that twisted your stomach at all.

at the end of the hall, and past another set of glass double doors, you saw the broad back of a man in a black linen set talking to a shorter woman in the same uniform. when her eyes flicked to you, she ushered him away and disappeared down a different hallway. then, he turned to you, hands casually against his hips. a low curse left your lips before you could prevent it.

again, you found yourself dismayed, because you didn’t know what you were expecting. maybe, an old wrinkly masseur like in those shitty pornos your ex boyfriend used to watch. this bearded man was, undoubtedly, older than you, but ruggedly handsome in a way that made your stomach flip.

not with nerves, but with anticipation. or maybe a mix of the two.

he closed the distance between you, looking down at you from his tall height, a polite smile on his lips but a dark, knowing look in his blue eyes that flushed your cheeks.

“john price,” he said, voice rough and gravely as he offered a hand. you returned with your name shyly, letting him pull you closer as you shook his large hand that dwarfed your own. 

fuck. he was hot, and that knowledge made you dizzy.

in a haze, you let him lead you further down the hallway, startling when he glanced at you from over his shoulder.

“i saw that you specially requested me, ma’am.”

“i…” you groped around for words, prickling all over with embarrassment. 

“my friend,” you settled on finally, “she requested you.”

his brows rose before he trained his attention forward once more. “your friend…?”

he let out a low huff of laughter, turning on his heel as he motioned down a branching hallway lined with opaque, glass doors. 

“and where are they?”

you swallowed hard, staring at him. “well… this was a birthday gift.”

he just looked amused, like he was mulling over something very thoughtfully. 

“hm.”

you followed the silent directions he gave you, halting at a door in the middle of the hallway. when his hands closed around the handle, a flurrying panic seized you, and the warring emotions in your heart stumbled to the forefront.

“wait—!”

he paused, brows raised in expectation.

fuck, what were you doing? the voices in you were clambering around and loud, mind grappling with itself. you couldn’t chicken out of this now, you chided yourself, biting down on your lower lip.

or could you?

but John just huffed, twisting the door open to… a bathroom?

“all customers must take showers before service,” he explained, a shrewd smirk twisting his lips. “did the receptionist not disclose as such?”

“i—” you stumbled through your words, “no. no she did.” you just had been too nervous to listen.

you brushed past him, stepping into the pristine bathroom and slowly turning in your spot to give him a weak, strained smile.

when he didn’t close the door, just tilted his head at you, the smirk sliding from his face, a shiver slithered down your spine.

“if i can assist you in any way,” he said slowly, a considerate gaze pinning you to your spot, “please notify me.”

his words were tinged with something darker beneath the kindness of them that turned the shiver into a wrack of shudders. like there was an offer hidden within them that you could pluck out, that he wanted you to seize.

his eyes flicked to the shower behind you and you melted into a puddle of hot liquid. help you in the shower?

“m’fine,” you squeaked, unable to meet his eyes.

for an unbreathing moment, he blinked at you. then, he nodded, that polite smile flashing through his face.

“your private room will be number sixteen. down the hall on the left.”

he shut the door softly.

the breath deflated from your lungs and your shoulders slumped, a crawling heat over your skin that propelled you to strip yourself of your clothes and toss them into an untidy pile before stepping into the shower.

you let the water run over you for longer than necessary, careful to keep your hair swept out of the way as you scrubbed yourself again. then again. and again.

you didn’t know what to do with yourself and the heat that wouldn’t leave your cheeks. your stomach. the place between your thighs.

it was infuriating, and you turned the water colder and colder till you were shivering under the icy blast of water. still, that heat burned you inside and out, and the thought of that masseur wasn’t helping in the least.

he looked strong—tall and muscled. handsome. god.

you looked down to the pulsing place between your thighs and lamented. lately, you had been so pent up. life was debilitating and wrung you so dry that you couldn’t find time to have a bit of fun with a stray partner at the local bar anymore.

you deserved this. swallowing hard, you tried to convince yourself of the words when you twisted the knob of the shower, determined to shake yourself of that swirling shame that seized your insides as you dried yourself with fury.

opposite the sparkling sink was a row of robes with a plaque etched above each one instructing customers to don one instead of clothing. you jerked a lavish robe on, conscious of the way your tits were so visible beneath its silky softness, and shoved your clothes into the plastic bag from the dispenser on the sink.

you deserved this. it rang clear as you stepped out the bathroom clad in slippers and the revealing robe. you could do this.

as you stomped down the hallway, sharply turning left as he instructed, you made a beeline for room sixteen and pushed the door open.

when you stepped in, letting your weight fall against the door behind you, you stayed there, frozen in place as you watched John crouched down at some cabinets on the far side of the room. in the middle of it, there was a plush massage table that looked equally comfortable and equally ominous.

you opted for your spot pressed to the door.

“was it good?”

his abrupt question startled you as he turned with some bottles in his hands. with a flush of embarrassment, you knew they must’ve been for…

you gnawed on the inner softness of your cheek.

“good?”

his brows raised a little as he put the bottles down by the massage table. “the shower.”

your eyes widened. the shower? 

he stared at you for a long moment before a gruff laugh escaped him, turning away to straighten the covering on the massage table.

“was the shower to your liking, ma’am?”

you gaped, mouth opening and then closing, fishing around to see if there was some sort of innuendo in his words. a little voice in you mewled that there must’ve been, otherwise your face wouldn’t be so hot like this.

you mumbled some semblance of an affirmative and he nodded. “good.”

when you still stayed pressed to the door, cowering like a little animal, he gave you a soft look. “would you like me to put your items into a locker, ma’am?”

you dropped the plastic bag and your purse by the door, nudging them into the corner of the room with your foot.

“no thank you.”

you still stayed pressed to the door and he leaned his hip against the table.

“are you alright ma’am?”

“mhmm.”

an ocean of goosebumps perked up on your skin when he began edging closer to you.

“what brought you in here today, love?”

it was such an intimate question, you didn’t really know what to say. you took in the sharpness of his jaw, broad shoulders, and the gentle outline of his muscled torso beneath the thin cloth of his shirt.

“stress,” you squeaked, and he cocked his head.

“yeah? been feelin’ pent up?”

your skin was set alight. he was only an arm’s length away now, stopping at a distance that was still professional but felt smothering. you couldn’t breath, hyper aware when his eyes dropped to the swell of your breasts beneath the thin robe.

suddenly, you felt naked. and embarrassingly wet.

“mhmm.”

his eyes flicked back up to meet yours, so thick and dark that your thighs clenched together. “don’t worry, darlin’. i can help you relax.”

he offered a hand to you, and with a shy feeling, you curled your hand into his, letting him gently tug you toward the massage table.

“we’ll take it slow, yeah?”

you nodded meekly, untying the sash of your robe with clumsy hands. when the ropes fell to your sides, you stood stock still, looking up at him meekly as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“sorry,” you said weakly, guilt thick and cold in your gut for making his job so difficult.

“s’alright,” he coaxed, not a crack of impatience in his face.

when you still made no move to remove it yourself, he ghosted a hand over the waist of the robe. “may i?”

you nodded, screwing your eyes shut when he tugged it from your shoulders, just the rustling of the robe falling to the floor and his calm breaths filling the room. a breeze enveloped your exposed skin, and you jolted when his warm knuckles brushed over your arm.

cracking your eyes open, he gestured towards the massage table, and you eased yourself onto it, nerves twisting hot and livid in your stomach, staring up at the ceiling and refusing to look anywhere else.

stiff as a board against the table, you were almost relieved when he stepped away from you, switching on some music in the background. it wasn’t lusty and sensual like you thought it would be, but lilted with a calming resonance. like something that you would meditate to every now and then.

you heard him step closer to you once more, saw him in your peripheral, but nonetheless you jolted when his fingers ghosted over your bare stomach.

“just relax,” he said softly, eyes trained on your face as he rubbed over your stomach, sliding up beneath your breasts.

you held your breath, confused when his warm touch never made contact with the plush of your tits, but instead dipped back down and skipped over your cunt, sliding over your thighs and squeezing lightly.

gnawing on your lower lip, you stole a glance at the easy look on his face, meeting his gaze with a confused one. he lifted his other hand to rest on your forehead, rubbing at the spot between your eyebrows.

oh. that felt good.

“close your eyes,” he commanded, and you complied immediately, so distracted by his fingertips massaging over the tense spots on your head that you almost missed when his knuckles stroked your inner thighs.

“m’nervous,” you admitted finally, feeling loosened by the ministrations over your scalp.

he just hummed, moving his other hand from your inner thighs. there was a warm touch on your pubic bone, just above your cunt, and your hips jumped with a gasp. “just listen to the music.”

“i can make you feel good,” he whispered, and you shivered, face flushing when the wetness between your thighs was beginning to grow uncomfortable. 

it felt wrong to be under this touch of this older man. a stranger, who you were letting run his hands all over you.

the thought just made you shudder, stomach in knots when he slid his hand up your stomach and gently kneaded your breasts.

you whimpered, arching into the touch blindly, and he hummed in approval.

“tha’s it love.”

you released a shaky exhale under the little burst of praise from his lips, and a needy voice in you demanded for more. 

then, the warm sensations left your body, leaving you cold and wanting on the table, and your eyes snapped open, finding him already looking down at you with amusement as he unstoppered a bottle of… something.

he poured it into his hands, rubbing them together, warming it, you thought dizzily, as he slid his hot and oiled hands over your body, pushing down with a pressure that had your mind spinning as your head thudded back against the table. 

his movements became bolder as more whimpers fell from your lips, squeezing your tits, the flesh of your stomach, then your thighs, before he picked up the bottle and poured a little oil straight onto your naval.

“spread your thighs,” he commanded in a low tone that had your knees snapping open immediately, much to your embarrassment.

he cooed a praise that was lost to your ears as he spread the oil over your naval, then your inner thighs, completely neglecting your cunt as it pulsed angrily.

“mister—” you struggled for words as your hips bucked up, feeling so so embarrassed at how needy you were growing, all his touches over your body heating you up and drowning you in a never-ending, spirling pool of want.

“you can call me John,” he said, pressing your hips back down to the table with unnerving patience. “or sir, if that’s what you like, darlin’.”

you didn’t miss the suggestiveness in his gravelly tone, smothering a yelp when he tugged your thighs wider, hooking an arm beneath one to stretch your hips further apart.

when he craned his neck down to observe your cunt, just staring unblinkingly, you were flushed with embarrassment.

“please—” you begged weakly, squirming a little on the table.

he looked down at you from over his shoulder, and the lust blown look in his face made you shudder. 

is this what all appointments were like? for all customers? you thought dizzily, understanding how someone could get addicted to a place like this. a place where John was.

“thought you wanted this love,” he said slowly, and you nodded eagerly.

“touch me, please—”

in a quick movement, he slapped your inner thigh, palm connecting with the side of your pussy lips on the way, and you jolted against the table, a loud moan torn from your lips as the sting sizzled out into pleasurable fizzles all over your skin.

“thought you wanted to be teased,” he said softly, like he was being kind when he rubbed over the stinging spot. “edged. slapped. degraded.”

his fingers ghosted over the shell of your clit and you gasped, hips twitching up into the relief of the featherlight touch.

“s’what you filled out on the contract,” he grunted, voice considerably more aggressive when he pinched your clit lightly. a little cry left your lips and he hummed, a smile on his lips as he watched you squirm.

“such a depraved little thing.” his head ducked down to stare down at your cunt again, like he was talking to it, as his fingers brushed over your throbbing cunt. 

“so fuckin’ wet already, slut.”

then, he slapped your cunt, gentler than before, but then he did it again, and you twisted on the table, tears springing up into your eyes at the pleasurable sting that traveled straight to the heat in your stomach.

“please,” you practically sobbed, clit pulsing and throbbing and god—

he thumbed away the tears on your cheeks, gently shushing you as he stepped back to pour some more oil into his hands before rubbing his whole palm over your cunt, oiling the slick wetness of your sex and completely ignoring the whimpers and whines on your lips as he did as he pleased.

or maybe, as you pleased, since you were the customer, but as you arched into his touch and the sensual, torturous circles he massaged into your clit, you couldn’t help but feel like it didn’t matter what you wanted anymore.

you were under his mercy as he held you down, snaking two hands around your wrists and binding them against your tits to keep you from squirming so much as he played with your clit.

“good?”

the gentle check-in spun your head and you nodded dumbly, looking up at him in a blurry haze. with your reassurance, he smiled softly, pinning you down with something dangerously close to an affectionate look before more filth was spilling from his mouth.

“this just needed a little attention, didn’t it, pretty girl?”

even if his eyes were on you, you knew he was talking about your cunt, and the lewd way he said it had you choking on an affirming moan.

“yeah, tha’ was all,” he said, so rough and delicious that the sound of his voice made your cunt clench around nothing. painfully empty.

“just needed a lil’ attention, a quick orgasm, and you’ll be good as new, hmm?”

mind dizzy, you could barely respond to him, brows pinched as you stuttered and fumbled around for a response.

but he continued without you. “needed an older and experienced man to take care of you, hm?”

“fuck,” you cried, grinding your hips against his touch, eyes rolling back into your head because all the sensations felt blinding.

“suck a dirty slut,” he cooed, slapping your clit in a couple wet smacks that had your hips bucking up before he was rubbing his fingers against you again, faster this time.

he released your wrists and slid hand to your jaw, pressing down on your jugular as some of his fingers teased your lower lip. easily, you conceded, sliding your mouth open so he could press two fingers deep down your hot throat, screwing your eyes shut as you tried not to choke and just suck.

“good girl,” he grunted roughly, sending you spiraling when his hand crept further down your cunt and stretching your sopping walls with a big finger. then, as soon as his first finger was buried to the hilt, he was slipping in another one, cunt squelching and sucking around his fingers as he fucked you with his hand.

“oh John—” you couldn’t help the breathy, warbled gasp around a mouthful of his fingers, heart jumping at the way his gaze just darkened down at you.

“so greedy,” he admonished at a whisper, and you whimpered, swirling your tongue around his fingers as you reached out to anchor on something, anything, only satiated when your hand came into contact with the fabric of his pants, clutching at the linen in a tight fist.

you felt something hard pressing against your knuckles, eyes sliding over to take in the swollen bulge in his pants.

with a little whimper, you brushed over it mindlessly, and John hissed at the touch, sliding his hand out your mouth and back around your throat, pushing your head firmly back down to the table.

“s’off limits, darlin’,” he reminded you, breathlessly, though you didn’t miss the way his grinded his hips into your palm.

you distantly remember the contract outlining something about not touching the masseurs in return—that it was a strictly single avenue for pleasure. 

but knowing it was forbidden somehow made it so much better.

“wanna suck you off,” you whispered softly, blindly pawing at the waistband of his pants, and he practically growled, hand tightening around your neck.

“hungry, are you?” he pressed a thumb into your mouth and you sucked it in eagerly, humming, shuddering when his fingers curled into that sweet spot inside you.

breath stolen somewhere far away, you ground your hips into every curl of his fingers, eyelids drooping even though you fought them to stay awake. in the meantime, his hand retreated from your throat, disappearing somewhere off the table. then, your head was being turned, and you were dizzily faced with the leaking head of his thick cock almost brushing against the tip of your nose.

you hummed, immediately craning your neck forward to brush your lips, slick with spit, over the head of his cock, then beneath it, lips ghosting in little kisses at his frenulum, and you wholly enjoyed the way that he shivered.

“c’mon, pretty,” he coaxed, firmly grabbing a fistful of your hair. “suck me off with that cute little throat.”

dropping your jaw open, tongue out in an offering, he immediately slid down your throat, and you moaned around him, letting him press all the way down to the hilt in one go.

“good girl, you can take it, you will take it, ” he rasped, sounding almost pained as he ground the thick tip against the soft skin at the very back of your throat. when you choked, throat seizing hard around him, he let out a low groan and pulled his hips back so that the very tip of him rested against your lips. for a moment, you struggled for breath, torn between the way he was massaging your g-spot perfectly and the drooling cock waiting for the heat of your mouth right in front of your face.

“more,” you whined, throat already strained from abuse, craning forward to wrap your lips around the tip and suckling so that his hips jerked forward into your mouth.

he pressed the side of your head firmly down into the table so that you were immobilized—so that he could rut his hips smoothly into your hot and tight mouth like it was his own personal cocksleeve, and just the thought of it had your clit twitching, cunt spasming because you were getting dangerously close.

“close?” he grunted, and you hummed weakly around him, sucking as best as you could when mind-numbing waves of pleasure threatened to overtake you with every curl of his fingers.

before you could protest, he pulled out of your mouth and released your head against the table. by the time you were picking up your head to peer at him, he was already kneeling at the edge of the table, curling two arms around your thighs to pull you closer to his waiting mouth.

then, his tongue was on your clit, making out with your pussy in ways that made your back arch up off the table.

“John!” you gasped, curling your legs around his head so that you could keep him flush to your cunt.

in a hazy, distant part of your mind, you were faintly aware that the contract said nothing about eating out but—

“s’not allowed,” you reminded him between breathy moans, words sluggish and blurred together.

he just hummed, dark blue eyes flickering up to you with almost a sinister smile on his lips as his tongue swirled around your clit. “only for special customers.”

you choked on a moan, letting your head fall back as one hand twisted in your own hair, the other in John’s, tugging just to keep a grip on reality as he worked you through a mind-numbing orgasm that had you seeing pure white before you were crashing back down, hyper sensitive when his lips were still glued to your cunt.

jolting against the table, you shook with sobs as he pleasured to your last trembling high, suckling in your clit one last time before he leaned back, beard and chin glistening with your slick.

between wracking pants, your eyes betrayed you, sliding shut as you sank into the massage table, falling completely boneless.

“ma’am?” his voice was husky with use as he wrapped a hand gently around your ankle before releasing.

forcing your eyes open, you were blessed with the sight of him unbuttoning the front of his shirt, exposing the tone of his torso and the dark thatch of hair near his naval. then, your eyes dropped to his flushed, neglected cock between his thighs, looking so very painful and thick and suckable.

humming, you swung up on the table and slid to your knees on the floor, crawling towards him till you were nestled between his shoes.

you looked up at him, heels pressed against your ass and neck craning back to meet his debauched gaze, cracked wide open with want and need. then, you licked your lips, giving him a good show as you wrapped a hand innocently around his cock, giving it a little tug, satisfied from the way it twitched in your touch.

“how many customers have done this for you?” you asked, shy as you eyed the pearly beads of precum that slid off his tip and onto your waiting tits. he cursed in a throaty, low tone.

“few,” he admitted, nudging his hips forward so the head of his cock brushed against your lips.

your eyes fluttered up to him again. “please fuck my throat, sir.”

“fuck,” he curse, thick and dark as he crept a hand into your hair and pulled taught so that your head was pulled back, the underside of his cock against your plush cheek.

“m’gonna ruin you darlin’,” he whispered, a threat and a promise that you eagerly took as he guided his cock into your waiting mouth, poised and wide open for him.

im ngl i didnt really know how to end this one bc im not sure how much i like how i wrote this ff and it was going on for too long and alfjslirjfsij (i do already have ideas for a part 2 if anyone is interested in more masseur!John because the concept certainly intrigues me... 🌚)

taglist: @ivybeeloved @keiva1000

[heartfullofleeches]

Hybrid Cafe Yans

A list of the hybrid yans since it's been a minute-. The first name is their real name and the second is the nicknames reader has given them. The only exclusions are Saber and Wistera who haven't been nicknamed yet, and Doc and Trick who have never been official named

Saber [he/him] - Model/Influencer Catboy who got saved from the ran by Cafe reader on their first shift. Very snobby and feels entitled to most if not all of reader's time being their first customer

Clyde/Spot [he/him] - A lonely delivery rabbit. Shy and Sweet. Bounced around in the foster care system as a child and has severe abandonment issues steaming from it which later on resulted in him dying his fur white to be more appealing to others. His nickname comes from Reader finding a spot on his ear since it had been a while since his last dye job

Shanna/Bo [She/Her] - Reader's sheep girl coworker. Extremely clumsy and timid, but also plays up the act to lean on reader's shoulder. The daughter of a local club owner who is still coming to terms with her recent coming out.

Pauline/Belle [She/Her] - The ex head chef at the cafe. A hot headed cow woman with a soft spot for reader who's what keeps her crawling back to the city from her cozy new life on her farm

Robbie/Honey [They/Them] - A bumble bee who as their name implies is sweet as can be..... on the surface. Robbie is one of if not the most willing to beat others into submission for Reader. Their mother is the head of a massive company who gifted them the entire apartment complex they live in. Later moves Reader into one of them who pays next to nothing for rent

Trick [They/Them] - A tired Crow enjoying early retirement/hiatus from their work. Greatly enjoys relaxing with a cup of tea and gifting reader presents from the various regions they've traveled to over the years. Works as a teacher as a secondary occupation which slowly drains them as it reminds them of the empty nest they have at home

Asher/Prince [he/him] - Hyperactive Hyena boy ready and willing to throw hands for reader. Their kindness helped him get over his fear of humans after years of bullying for having a human parent and a shorter stature because of it, and being wrongfully arrested when attacked by bullies and choosing to fight back

Wisteria [She/Her] - Plant woman of unknown origin. Owns a flower shop not too far from the cafe and supplies it with bouquets for their displays which she uses to eavesdrop on reader. Soft spoken and formal

Doc [They/it] - Leech Hybrid med student. Extremely giggly and carefree. Always tries to give Reader check ups which certainly aren't ploys to obtain vials of their sweet, sweet blood. Has difficults walking on land and wears leg braces for the weak muscles in their legs

Scout/Bear [he/him] - Wolf hybrid. Doesn't like to talk much about himself, but lived with his grandmothers and dogs in the wilderness before they all passed away. Stoic and grouchy, but weak to soft praise and touches

The manager - A deer hybrid mentioned briefly in the Christmas special. Not much to them now, but I'd really like to use them eventually