#but - damn it - he sure did know how to turn a phrase.

[letterful]

Romanticism is the primitive, the untutored, it is youth, life, the exuberant sense of life of the natural man, but it is also pallor, fever, disease, decadence, the maladie de siècle, La Belle Dame Sans Merci, the Dance of Death, indeed Death itself. It is Shelley's dome of many-coloured glass, and it is also his white radiance of eternity. It is the confused teeming fullness and richness of life, Fülle des Lebens, inexhaustible multiplicity, turbulence, violence, conflict, chaos, but also it is peace, oneness with the great `I Am', harmony with the natural order, the music of the spheres, dissolution in the eternal all-containing spirit. It is the strange, the exotic, the grotesque, the mysterious, the supernatural, ruins, moonlight, enchanted castles, hunting horns, elves, giants, griffins, falling water, the old mill on the Floss, darkness and the powers of darkness, phantoms, vampires, nameless terror, the irrational, the unutterable.

Also it is the familiar, the sense of one's unique tradition, joy in the smiling aspect of everyday nature, and the accustomed sights and sounds of contented, simple, rural folk — the sane and happy wisdom of rosy-checked sons of the soil. It is the ancient, the historic, it is Gothic cathedrals, mists of antiquity, ancient roots and the old order with its unanalysable qualities, its profound but inexpressible loyalties, the impalpable, the imponderable.

Also it is the pursuit of novelty, revolutionary change, concern with the fleeting present, desire to live in the moment, rejection of knowledge, past and future, the pastoral idyll of happy innocence, joy in the passing instant, a sense of timelessness. It is nostalgia, it is reverie, it is intoxicating dreams, it is sweet melancholy and bitter melancholy, solitude, the sufferings of exile, the sense of alienation, roaming in remote places, especially the East, and in remote times, especially the Middle Ages.

But also it is happy co-operation in a common creative effort, the sense of forming part of a Church, a class, a party, a tradition, a great and all-containing symmetrical hierarchy, knights and retainers, the ranks of the Church, organic social ties, mystic unity, one faith, one land, one blood, `la terre et les morts', as Barrès said, the great society of the dead and the living and the yet unborn. It is the Toryism of Scott and Southey and Wordsworth, and it is the radicalism of Shelley, Büchner and Stendhal. It is Chateaubriand's aesthetic medievalism, and it is Michelet's loathing of the Middle Ages. It is Carlyle's worship of authority, and Hugo's hatred of authority. It is extreme nature mysticism, and extreme anti-naturalist aestheticism. It is energy, force, will, youth, life, étalage du moi; it is also self-torture, self-annihilation, suicide. It is the primitive, the unsophisticated, the bosom of nature, green fields, cow-bells, murmuring brooks, the infinite blue sky.

No less, however, it is also dandyism, the desire to dress up, red waistcoats, green wigs, blue hair, which the followers of people like Gérard de Nerval wore in Paris at a certain period. It is the lobster which Nerval led about on a string in the streets of Paris. It is wild exhibitionism, eccentricity, it is the battle of Ernani, it is ennui, it is taedium vitae, it is the death of Sardanopolis, whether painted by Delacroix, or written about by Berlioz or Byron. It is the convulsion of great empires, wars, slaughter and the crashing of worlds. It is the romantic hero — the rebel, l'homme fatale, the damned soul, the Corsairs, Manfreds, Giaours, Laras, Cains, all the population of Byron's heroic poems. It is Melmoth, it is Jean Sbogar, all the outcasts and Ishmaels as well as the golden-hearted courtesans and the noble-hearted convicts of nineteenth-century fiction. It is drinking out of the human skull, it is Berlioz who said he wanted to climb Vesuvius in order to commune with a kindred soul. It is Satanic revels, cynical irony, diabolical laughter, black heroes, but also Blake's vision of God and his angels, the great Christian society, the eternal order, and `the starry heavens which can scarce express the infinite and eternal of the Christian soul'.

It is, in short, unity and multiplicity. It is fidelity to the particular, in the paintings of nature for example, and also mysterious tantalising vagueness of outline. It is beauty and ugliness. It is art for art's sake, and art as an instrument of social salvation. It is strength and weakness, individualism and collectivism, purity and corruption, revolution and reaction, peace and war, love of life and love of death.

— from Isaiah Berlin's The Roots of Romanticism.

[kaisentine]

is the mikage corp’s heir trying to steal your man? you know that he probably is.

purple is a unique color, purple is a noticeable hair color, purple is a striking eye color, purple is the color you can see from your peripheral vision when nagi is snuggling up against your side.

“sei . . . did you invite mikage?” you lean down to whisper in his ear—referring to reo as mikage because you aren’t at all close at him nor do you think he likes you. anyway, nagi didn’t mention anything about inviting his best friend today.

he’s too lazy to look at you to respond but you see the way his head just barely moves when he opens his mouth, “nope.” he matches the volume of your voice. so was this considered a break in or . . ?

you fight the urge to cling onto nagi like a koala because reo just keeps . . . staring. “sei, he’s literally in your apartment.” you deadpan as quietly as possible whilst trying to keep audible for him to hear because you know damn well he’s about to fall asleep right on you shoulder.

this time, he moves his head to look up at you. then his eyes start wandering off to the side—did he finally see him? you get the answer when he starts speaking. “reo? why’re you here?” he asks the purple haired male—not bothering to mention how he got in because nagi was the one who gave him the keys.

finally, he actually steps out of the shadows. he looks scary like this, giving you a deadly glare. “sorry, did i interrupt? i was just going to check in on you.” he quickly switches up when answering your boyfriend. obviously he interrupted something . . . but to your dismay, nagi only shakes his head.

the night ends with nagi sandwiched by two people: his very lovely amazing partner and reo.

it feels like you’re in a constant competition with mikage reo. the way you lowkey have to fight with him to snag the place beside nagi.

you and reo glare at each other as soon as you guys see the vacant spot on nagi’s left side. it’s gonna be a race that reo wins, you know that for sure—you’re not even gonna try to win against a freaking scary 6’1 soccer player.

so while he is fast walking to his best friend’s side, you’re taking slow strides to catch up. it’s only a matter of seconds before he sits his ass down triumphantly in victory—you roll your eyes at him. when you do get to the destination, you’re giving him the “i’m gonna win in the end anyway” type of glare.

nagi obviously doesn’t care,he probably doesn’t even know what just transpired because he’s still on his phone playing some video game.

“sei, you’re still on that game?” you ask, standing on the other side beside him. he hums as a little yes to your question, you let out a fake chuckle. “you’ve been playing for too long, i wanted to show you something.” you pout and almost direct an evil grin to reo but stop because nagi pauses his game to look at you, grey eyes lazily staring back at you. “what’d you wanna show me?” he’s interested now, he hates surprises because it’s too much of a hassle to think about what it could be. “it’s in your bedroom,” you put an innocent smile at the end and he’s already jumping out of his chair. when you’re both leaving reo to sulk on the counter, you turn back to flash him a devious smile—the one you intended to give him the first time.

“we’ll be right back,” said nagi.

you guys were in-fact not right back.

reo later found you guys sleeping on nagi’s bed, bodies all up against each other.

i don’t think nagi understands the phrase “bros before hoes” nor does he understand “hoes before bros”. . . he doesn’t really care—he’s too lazy to give a fuck.

sticky note. i feel like nagi is lowkey a red flag or probably a yellow ( beige??? ) flag . . .

[jazeswhbhaven]

He Can Match Your Freak | Asmodeus Selfie Spoilers

OKAY sooo FINALLY I'm posting this lol it's probably going to be like two parts maybe??? Let's see how this goes because I'm learning to not post thousands of screenshots unless it's relevant.

First. I'm skipping the prologue because most have seen it, and I'm doing a different thing with that anyway.

SOOO it's gonna be a crash course ya'll with jumping right in when MC is in his room about to get them cheeks clapped.

He wants to know more about MC because of what he's heard and well he wouldn't be wrong here. MC apparently is quite the deviant. And you can tell the writers tried to describe him as majestic and breathtaking as possible because the way MC sees him is similar to how they see Leviathan.

Until they said this mess.

G I R L WH A T

Even Asmo was like ???? But he has a sense of humor so he just laughed it off which I mean okay yes as if he would care about that phrase being weird.

But MC out here actin' up once a g a i n. lol

But also they mention his body odor keeps wafting over in MC's nose clearly yeah because not only them pheromones' but uh anyways we'll get to that part later

And MC was just like covering their nose and is like "this is dangerous" and for me ya'll?

I'd be afraid to offend him by saying he smells ripe which I'm sure he wouldn't be offended because I'm not sure what would offend him at this point in time.

So big boi puts a sigil on MC's body similar to a womb tattoo which is why he said "be surprised you aren't pregnant" but this symbol makes you into his "female" no matter the gender. He goes to say it nicely that you're his "virgin" though.

And with that, most of what's happening is that MC is feeling the effects of Asmo without him even doing much of anything just yet. The feelings of having climaxed multiple times over, hazy, losing your goddamn mind.

That sort of thing.

Baby I would have cried on the spot. What do you mean be your companion?

Yup he asked MC to not only be his one night stand but to basically be his and that he thinks he could fall in love with them.

He says that he can fall in love at first sight despite his reputation. And also he mentions MC is his third love. First was Solomon (rejected him and wouldn't tell him who it is he was in love with) and two his late wife who was a witch and it's their children/descendants who are the Unholyc that inhabit Earth.

I'mma be honest with ya'll I didn't finish Lovely Unholyc because I was mostly interested in William, there was no route for him at that time so I just kinda dipped, tried again and then dipped lol

oh btw he apparently just straight up wanted to yap about him clapping Solomon's cheeks and getting his cheeks clapped back and how many damn positions they did and I'm trying to wrap my head around what the fuck they did because at one point surely they were on the ceiling or floating mid-air, like I don't even know

But his wife who chose to live on Earth and grow old and die normally put a curse on his soul. He can love and fuck whoever he wants and should never be lonely but he can't have any more children. If he does, they die, and he dies along with the partner he made them with. (the fall of the house of usher vibes)

AND let me just say? That woman did the world a favor because he has a breeding kink. We'd have a whole universe full of little Asmo halflings running around. So either it was her being possessive or just her sparing the world of that burden then yeah thank you for that because phew.

i don't need no babies anyways

And he says the same thing like "Oh we can leave other things other than babies, like photos of us in a mess" meaning he really meant when he said he wanted to participate in the contest.

I mean he would have won so I think it's fair to give the others a chance. Lol

So things are getting hot and heavy now and he's wondering why MC is holding back. Honestly I'm like huh he did say that he turns you into a virgin and not everyone is confident when being presented with the chance of a lifetime to fuck the embodiment of lust.

But at the same time I mean...MC this is your element and you are pretty much striking out. (not to him but to me you are)

SO I complied all of these because this is important. Asmodeus is literally combining all of their philias and using them on MC and he's quite good at it. And well, why wouldn't he be?

And he even goes to strangle and lick up MCs tears?

Yeah we know what he's about.

His tongue did what now?

his tongue did what now

his tongooooooooooooo

Anyways I short circuited there because everything about him is just driving me nuts.

MC even said they were coming by him just kissing them and I'm like hold up??????

I fucking bet.

Okay ya'll picked the nastiest ass stuff for him to mention but I get it. Congrats if ya'll have things you're self conscious about during sex Asmo's your demon because he literally won't care and will still be turned on.

Ayo.

Moving on....LMAO

And uh...Asmo was licking MC's snot and spit off their face and they came again.

I'm drowning in a sensory nightmare why is he so h o t but this is nastttyyyyyy

"I can always go hard whenever I feel like fucking the opponent"

Sir what? He just be sayin' anything

But he does ask MC what do they want...and they just smack the fuck out of him so there's that. Lol

I would tell him I'd very much like that mouth on the kewchie. I don't even need anything else just his mouth. His jaw probably can go for days.

Now MC is making deduction here that Asmo is the king of lust and seduction and can pass this feeling on to others. He's dangerous this way.

Now Asmo how do you know that.

Tell me sir HOW (I think I know the answer....but I'd be hella surprised that Belphie would let him hit unless he was watching him...)

But mostly what's happening is that MC is feeling what Asmo feels basically the same spiel as the other kings except with him it's intense to the point where they are quite literally about to pass the fuck out. And Asmo ain't about to stop momentum so you better stay awake MC.

NOW YA'LL.

Bullet point times:

MC has climaxed pretty much several times and they haven't even fucked properly yet

But wait, their clothes are off and....

Bam they notice that Asmo's cock is pretty much halfway in their hole and they haven't even noticed

All he did was push himself to the hilt and MC squirted ya'll

So there's that.

But the womb tattoo is doing it's job because now the climaxes are back to back, and I'm just wondering how the hell MC is still mentally there because I'd be a babbling mess.

Yes daddy.

he makes me SICK (lovingly)

But also they mention the liquid he was feeding MC had a horrible smell and I'm just like oh fucking gawd please get rid of my sense of smell before sleeping with him because I would not make it. Why is everything having to do with him smell so much? LOL

LMAO

MC was begging for his dick and Asmo is like, baby it's already in are you okay?

I'm crying

Yeah remember those memes about people getting high and saying they were vacuuming the dishes?

I imagine that's what it's like having sex with him. One minute you're on the bed next you're in another dimension, floating, transcending, melting, legs bent in impossible shapes. Indeed I am mopping the lawn.

He even mentioned they've done it like six times already and he's just getting started.

with a face like that? phew.

Oh so he does have a good pull out game.

btw the visual for that???? GAWDDDDDDD -> look here

So let me back up a bit and mention that MC was feeling insecure that since they have been doing it for quite some time (2 days I think?) they thought he wasn't satisfied. Nah he was just savoring the moment. He could come at any time. ANd when he does? It's alot and from his horn and everything. Cum fountain.

And best part? No refractory period. He's already hard and slamming that thang back in.

Also he mentions here that there's a smell, and he's getting really worked up.

Yeah he's tearing that up. Like it's overtime ya'll.

There's purple smoke and a erotic aura in the air, he's grabbing and biting down on the back of MC's neck to claim them? Oh he's going in.

Alright here we go.

And just so ya'll know...sorry male MC players....the same line is used in ya'lls version too. No change.

This is the point where I would of preferred perhaps something else be said entirely instead. I know the majority of players are women/non-men but...I can see someone playing and getting side swept like?????

But anyways let's move on past this point

Until the room stank is an understatement.

But anyways, while MC is trying to somewhat calm down, Asmo is still trying to keep the momentum. And MC starts trying to have a normal conversation and figuring out why devil's fear him the most.

But also mentioned they wanted to shove his nasty, greasy, bodily fluid covered hair up their hole. E x c u s e the fuck outta me?

AN Y W AY S

Mc figures that the reason the devils fear him is because of this. Imagine falling for someone like this? Who is nothing but the sole reason existence of lust and temptation where you could fuck for hours and reach pleasure centers unknown and yet have that all be taken away when he leaves? There's no love? No sweet nothings? Just being used up and tossed without any direction and you're just in the dark?

welp.

But Asmo does offer MC some comfort

He tells them that he's back in Hell so he will be around more often. It won't be painful, that it's okay to start slow and that MC would wait for him when he's ready to fully accept his feelings. He could fall in love with them not that he was already in love with them. But with how he's considering him as a companion, how he's biting and claiming them, the amount of time he's spending with MC.

mind you he left Phenomenon on the floor the moment he entered the meeting room so I imagine they weren't fucking for very long at all. I imagine all of his sessions with others are "quick" and for those he really likes they last longggg like days.

Not mention he on that yandere vibes....telling MC he'd lock them up in a cage but he'll deal with it for now.

And apparently when he gives a sincere command, it must be followed. So MC basically ends up getting dressed, not whining about leaving, and all that good stuff. A true dom in that sense.

Also he mentions that when he's nearby MC will just get turned on automatically. "Your body will scream that your man is here"

why is that so hot?

So MC is back in Gehenna and this is when Asmo starts reminiscing about Solomon who predicted that he'd see MC in the future and that he would know that he feels at the moment for Solomon is not 'love'.

I wonder if Asmodeus was just helplessly losing himself for Solomon, and pepaw clocked that and was just telling him to chill on it for a bit. Although it is fucking WI L D to me that he is going to try this again with his friend's descendant..."hey I'm a friend of your grandpa...soooo yeah let's fuck and fall in love"

Sounds weird when I put that way huh? lol

Also since we're at the end I'd like to highlight some personality things about him!

He plays too much: Taking a photo of himself and MC sleeping and sending it to Satan knowing he'd storm immediately to the room

He doesn't have self doubt, he is very much full of himself but is considerate of his partner given the circumstances

He is not into aftercare, he claims that part is included during the sex, if sex is over then it's over

He doesn't shower ya'll. Like at all. But he oddly keeps his nails clean and that's about it? He seems to be obsessed with sex funk

He really likes Mammon. Like a lot. But he does that thing where he's like "Nah I want him to want me so I won't give him what he wants" lol okay

He fucks pillows, pretty much inanimate objects if he feels like it

He has a sense of humor

Romance is not absent, it's just tricky for him since all that's all his brain is "breed breed breed breed sex sex sex breed breed breed oh lets pause for a break sex sex sex kissing sex sex breeding biting"

He loves his children though. He really is a fatherly devil. He beams about his kids and this is a moment where you can catch him not being sexual

It comes to no surprise that he doesn't like the idea of sharing his favorite person but it has me think that his style of relationship is that he's monogamous but if you want to occasionally bring someone to "play" with he won't mind as long as it's discussed and he gets to fuck them too

He's got a one track mind, but it's not like he can't carry on a conversation

Now for my

T H E O R I E S

Asmo is older than all of the kings, but younger than Lucifer

I am reaching in the dark but it seems the only King he's had sex with or has watched have sex is Belphie

He's only in love with MC because he's taking a opportunity that wasn't given to him with Solomon

There's most likely a loophole to his curse that his late wife left on him but he simply chooses not to break it

If the Kings fight together along with Asmodeus, the war would be over, and if we ever get a final battle chapter it's going to be MC who is the missing "key" and the one who figures that out is Asmo because he spent so much time with Solomon

We may get a cameo from one of his children in the story

Asmodeus is possibly capable of lying and just hasn't revealed that to anyone. I say this because if he was one of the very early devils created he is the exception to the rule. So there could be some secret he knows.

BUT wow it seems that I have compiled ALL of this into one post. YAY FOR ME. Now there may be more little blurbs popping up as I remember them but for nowwwwww~ Thank you for reading, hopefully you grabbed some snacks, and ya'll are amazing. Feel free to let me know ya'lls thoughts if you haven't said already on our stinky hot devil man <3 lol

[jamiethebeeart]

“But it’s not gay if he’s dead.” Danny’s head whipped around to stare down the street at two guys walking on the other side. He thought he was free of hearing that phrase ever again. Heart thudding in his ears, he crossed the street to tail these two guys. There was no way? Right? I mean Danny was something like 1,000 miles away from his hometown. There was no way two random guys in the big city of Gotham would’ve ever heard of –

“I don’t know man, it’s never been confirmed whether or not the “big guy” was actually… ya know?”

Danny seethed in frustration at the vague conversation. He stepped around a group of kids as he barely made the end of the crosswalk countdown.

“Nah, Red makes too many uncomfortable jokes about death to not have died.”

Danny sped up, weaving in between people to catch up before he lost the conversation in the din.

“It’s Gotham, we all make jokes about death.”

“Ya, but not like him. He seems to revel in them, like he actually kicked the bucket, permanent-like, not like those people who – I don’t know – cardiac arrest and are technically dead for a couple minutes until the EMTs get to them or whatever.”

A car puttered down the road – releasing a huge plume of exhaust in between Danny and the guys. Danny sighed, fully intending to return to his original path with the reassurance that they weren’t talking about Phantom. Then the next damned sentence came out of one of their mouths.

“Ok sure let’s say you’re right. Is it necrophilia if his body started decaying before coming back?”

‘Fuck it’ Danny thought as he turned back around. He had to see how this conversation ended – definitely not because the answer to that question kept him up night. Absolutely not. Call him a cat because he was just curious and not all at invested in the answer.

“Oh! Dude, shut the fuck up! Why would you – that’s disgusting! Are you kidding me!”

“Answer the question Mr. It’s Not Gay if He’s Dead – necrophiliac: yes or no?”

“No? Have you seen Red’s body? No way a dead guy could have muscles like that – I mean you gotta have working bodily functions right? To build muscles or whatever the fuck? Like have you seen his abs? Or, shit, just his arms - I mean swoon worthy, what I wouldn’t give to have him hold -”

“…….”

“- me…. What are ya looking at me like that for?”

“When, exactly, have you seen his abs.”

“Aaaah - that’s not the point –“

“Sure as hell hope that’s the point.” Red Hood stepped out of an alleyway they were walking past. Even with a helmet on, Danny swore the guy stared straight at him. He was so fucked getting caught listening in to this conversation – could he play it cool? Danny was cool right? Yeah, he could totally pull this off, act totally normal and keep walking. Hunching his shoulders some and turning his body away from the three men, he walked past. Or tried to. Red Hood caught the back of his shirt, stopping him from getting away. Unless Danny was willing to expose his powers to get out this situation, the best he could do was play dumb and hope Hood let him go without too much hassle.

“Boss!”

“Hey Boss – you didn’t happen to only hear the second half of that, did you?”

Red Hood growled, “the part about necrophilia or the part about my abs?”

Danny twisted his head back to see Goon #1 turn pale. “Uuuh – uh- um,” met Red Hood’s question.

A choreographed roll of the eyes, “Better question, why are you talking shit out on the streets and not paying attention to your little stalker,” Hood gestured to Danny.

“I’m not a stalker!” Danny huffed. His eyes widened. All three guys looked over at him. ‘SHIT’ Danny thought. He did not want to catch anyone’s attention more than he had, much less all three.

Goon No. 2 looked at him, as he resumed his squirming in Red Hood’s grasp, “So who are you?”

Danny glanced up to see Red Hood staring down at him. Today just wasn’t his day. “Hood,” Danny blurted out.

Silence. The tips of Danny’s ears turned bright red

“Uhm, I mean, a tourist?” “In Crime Alley, kid?”

"I'm not a kid," Danny muttered.

Hood shook Danny’s shirt hard enough to also shake Danny himself. “Try again. I’ve seen you around often enough to know that’s a lie.”

“It’s true!” Danny lied. “I was visiting the city, my wallet got pickpocketed with most of my money, so now I’m… kind of…. Stuck here? Indefinitely?”

Goon No. 1 laughed at him, “do ya think we’re dumb? You have a cellie right? No way you’re ‘stuck here’.”

“Exactly, so who do you work for? Penguin?” A jab towards Danny’s face. “Riddler?” Another jab and a step towards Danny. “Is it Two Face?” Another, even closer jab. Danny went cross-eyed looking at the finger in front of his nose.

“Back off,” Hood said. Danny breathed a sigh of relief at being given some space. And then the next words came out of Red Hood’s mouth, “Get lost you two – and stop gossiping on the street. And you-“ Hood turned back to Danny, “ – you’re coming with me.” Danny gulped. Today was going down as another shit day in the books for sure.

[brucewaynehater101]

Warning: Dark, Suicidal Tim, etc. Also small spoilers for the Injustice movie

Had a random thought, slightly inspired by the Injustice movie: what if Tim, in a mental health slump, decided to teach the bats a final lesson? Every time he defends himself against Damian’s attacks, he’s criticized for it. So one day, he just doesn’t.

Damian gets angry and decides to take it out on the person he won’t be criticized for attacking. After Tim doesn’t respond to his taunts, he gets physical, and throws a knife or slashes his sword, expecting Tim to get out of the out of the way or block the blow, and Tim doesn’t. The sound of a blade parting flesh and a body falling to the ground gets the other bats attention, and they turn to see Damian standing there with blood on his blade and Tim’s body on the ground.

(Inspired by the scene in the Injustice movie where Damian kills Dick by throwing a baton (escrima stick? IDK) at him, expecting him to catch it (which, earlier in the movie, he did), and Dick, being distracted, doesn’t, and it hits him directly on the temple. Accident, sure, but caused by recklessness)

Basically Damian needs to learn that attacking other people because you are angry is NOT OKAY. Seriously, if you’re pissed, go beat up a training dummy or scream into a pillow.

Does Damian learn the lesson? Or not? What about B and Dick and the others? How do they react?

[Thank you for the TWs! WARNING: This is bad batfam. I love them, but we're chucking them under the angst crack bus for this]

Tw: Dark/Suicidal Tim, domestic abuse, psychological warfare, manipulation, mentions of suicide attempt

Tim is tired of constantly fighting back and defending himself. He's tired of Damian and Jason attacking him. He's tired of Dick and Bruce pushing his boundaries.

If Tim just allows Damian to stab him, *he'll* be the one to get lectured for not dodging. It will become Tim's fault, as a trained vigilante, for not preventing himself from being injured.

What does he decide to do?

Resist with extreme psychological warfare no matter the damage to himself.

He starts small.

He curates cases/stories of sibling abuse and starts to leave them in places Dick will find (hacking/messing with Dick's fyp, newspapers around the Manor, files on the batcomputer, a case Babs is informed about, etc). They aren't reflective of Tim's experiences, not yet, but they show common patterns: adult figures not stepping in, siblings being pushed to compete, escalation, negative behaviors transferring to people/things outside of the siblings, etc.

For Bruce, Tim tricks the man into reading an intimate relationships psychology textbook by stating it was necessary for a case. He then keeps tricking the man into reading gentle parenting, boundaries, and other such information.

Jason is much easier. Tim just leaves books of various siblings relationships within the man's safehouses (healthy ones, distant, cruel, enemies, abusive, recent siblings [like adoption], etc). Jason doesn't know Tim is the one leaving those books, but he is intrigued by the "recommendations." A lot of them have other lessons Tim has prepared mixed in as well [which, if Jason finds out Tim is the one who recommended the books after he starts getting along with him, then they can have book clubs ^^].

Tim sends a ton of empathy animal related movies/shows Dick's way so that the older one ropes Damian into watching them.

This takes months, but at no point does Tim relate the lessons to Tim himself yet.

He then starts pouring in warnings. When Damian tries to hurt him again, Tim asks Dick, "What if I was too tired to dodge it?" This is the only time he asks. Dick waves it off cause Damian "knows better" now. I

Tim almost gave up the game right there and then to prove a point. He held back, though.

For Jason, Tim throws in shock-value trauma dump phrases when they meet up to prevent the older one from attacking.

Jason: *pulls out a gun*

Tim: "Damn. You'd think after threatening to kill myself to prevent my future from occurring that I'd be okay with guns. For some reason, they still make me nauseous."

Jason: *holsters gun* "What the fuck?"

Tim: *nods and then disappears*

It kind of trains Jason from attacking Tim unless he wants to hear really fucked up shit that will have his mind spiraling for days.

For Bruce, Tim just points out how and when the man crosses other people's boundaries (but doesn't point out Tim's). He doesn't put any expectation or remedy out. He just indicates it to start Bruce's thought process of "Did I just cross someone's boundary?"

Then Tim feels that it's ready. He won't get blamed for not dodging Damian's attack.

So, he lets himself be seriously stabbed.

This cues Damian into having a mental breakdown. Dick and Bruce oscillate between blaming everyone else and then themselves. Jason, after seeing the shitshow of these reactions, assigns himself (without telling the others) to suicide watch Tim [those trauma dump phrases are working against Tim here].

Once Tim awakens and realizes the mess he's created, he fucking regrets it all. He doesn't want to have to clean it all up and manipulate them into being better. He's also kind of pissed at Damian for not aiming for his heart or something. Damn.

[octuscle]

Fatal shortcut

You know those days. The traffic is murder. You can't go another inch. Your destination is within reach, but it will take you three green lights and at least 20 minutes to cover the last 100 meters. Bloody hell! Honk the horn? It's no use… But now carefully pull onto the green lane, then cut across the high school parking lot and you're there. Why do you have your baby, the Mercedes G-Class, after all? I put on the turn signal, the car takes the sidewalk like nothing, carefully into the parking lot, look left and right and…… BANG! Damn it, the Mustang has clearly taken my right of way. This is guaranteed to take longer than 20 minutes… The two morons in the car look like they only have their heads to wear football helmets and pour beer through their mouths. The typical stereotypical football college jock bros. The day just keeps getting better…

"Yo, Chuck! Bro, did you see what that punk did there?" "Sure, Brad! He definitely took your right of way." I try to protest. But I'm way too caught off guard when the guy, who is obviously Chuck, stands up in front of me. God knows I'm not small. I'm a well-trained, muscular six foot two. But Chuck is easily ten centimetres and at least 20 kilograms taller than me… He grabs my balls. Damn it, I want to punch him, but Brad's already got me from behind. And Brad is barely smaller than Chuck. "There you go, you little faggot!" Chuck hisses at me. "Are you lying in wait for your wankers in the parking lot again? But this time is the last time!" He spits in my face and his grip on my balls tightens. Brad turns my head in his direction and spits again. Then the two of them get into their car, put it in reverse. And disappear.

I stand there a bit like an idiot. I'm far from being small or a faggot. And the last thing Chuck and Brad were to me were wank templates. I mean, I have nothing against gays… But thanks no, not for me… I'll take a look at the damage to the car. It's no big deal, the Mustang looked worse. I get back in the car, drive the last few meters into the underground car park, throw my keys to Stephen at reception and ask him to take the car to the garage. When I get off work later, I'd like to have it done. He puts his hand to his temple and says "Sir, aye, sir". Hehehe, I don't mind hierarchies being recognized.

"You little faggot"… I can't get that phrase out of my head. Shit, I'm really unfocused today. Maybe I just need a distraction. I go to the gym during my lunch break. Somehow I feel the need to look like anything but a faggot. I train bare-chested. Dressed only in compression shorts. Not really appreciated here. But I don't care today…

Shit, I'm not in top form here either… What I normally lift without any problems is all too heavy for me today. At least it's the cross trainer… Even though I'm not really the cardio type. When I get in the shower, my cock gets hard. Shit, that's embarrassing. But I also have to say that there's really only premium meat running around here today. And I'm one of them. Definitely one of them. Even the clean-shaven guy in front sees it that way. Clear body language. It doesn't take long before I'm leaning against the shower wall. And for the first time in my life I get fucked… And how! I can hear the angels singing. It feels so good as the stallion cums in my ass. To say goodbye, he gives me a kiss and a pat on the ass. And he says loudly to one of his buddies. "What a waste for such a submissive pig to have such a magnificent cock!"

The fuck was great, but apart from that I'm really not myself today. I feel like I've been missing the last year. For the life of me, I can't remember a lot of things that happened. It's like I wasn't there. I'm glad when Stephen calls me at around 5 p.m. to tell me that my car is back. I thank him, pack up my things and go down to reception. Stephen grins at me almost insolently and says that this service is an exception and that he now has something good on me. Completely confused, I say, "I'm fine, dude" and take my car keys. But there is no black G-Class in my parking lot. There's a baby blue Mercedes SLK, in good shape, freshly polished. But it must be 15 years old. I press the key. The doors open. What the fuck?

I just want to get home, this day is a disaster. As I park the embarrassing car and walk past the concierge, Michael calls after me, "Hey, Johnny boy, can you give Mrs. Smith from 2316 a lift?" I turn red. I walk back to the concierge desk. "So what, my name is Jonathan, but it's actually Mr. Hays to you. And why would I stop on the 23rd floor when I live on the 38th. Besides, I don't know Mrs. Smith." Michael grins at me with his one-million-dollar smile. "Rough day, John, uh, Mr. Hays? You might as well ask the old lady if her drain is still acting up. And before you try to break into the wrong apartment, I understand you live in 2304." He hands me a package. I drive up to the 23rd floor. I give her the package. She asks if I can plug in the new coffee machine straight away. "Of course, mom," I say. I ask if her drain is working again. She says it would be nice if I could have another look. I ask if she has any rubber gloves. She nods. I pull the dirt out of the blocked drain. She slips me a dollar. I go to 2304, open the door. And drop onto the bed. It's right next to the door. 2304 used to be the room for the lady's maid from apartment 2312. On the one hand, I feel very much at home. But on the other hand, I should be somewhere else. Somewhere with a view of Central Park. With more space. I pull out my cell phone and start working my way through Grindr. Maybe I just need someone to take me really hard again today

That was a night of really wild dreams. Really wild dreams. But obviously everything is fine now. I feel fit. My morning wood has never been better. I stroke my chest. Didn't it used to be hairy? I'm fantasizing again. What it would be like to be a real guy. Successful, at least 1.82 m. Well, I'm not going to grow any more. But maybe that's because of some Italian roots or something. That's where I got my hairy armpits and good beard growth. Shit, I'm still hard as nails. So routine like every morning: wank, jog, shower and then off to the office. I should be there at 07:00 so that the mail is distributed and the conference tables are all set before the Masters of the Universe arrive at the office. It's 07:05 when I walk in the door. Stephen grins and just says, "Subway?" "Don't ask, bro!" I reply, rolling my eyes. I didn't really need a bachelor's degree for my job. Jogging in the morning to stay in shape is more important. At the end of the day, I usually have 15K steps and 40 floors on my fitness tracker. And that's not usually the end of it. By the time I get home, Michael usually has a number of assistance activities for me. But hey, the address on the Upper Eastside sounds impressive, which I would never normally have been able to afford as a young professional. I'll even put up with the apartment on the first floor with a view of the backyard and the job as a temporary janitor.

Of course it's embarrassing to still live with my parents. But if I wanted to afford my own place, I'd probably have to move 200 miles away from Down Town. And I want to stay here. That's important to me. Also for financial reasons. The subway tickets alone would be too expensive if I had to travel further. I mean, the little bit of scholarship… And I don't earn much in the kitchen of the cafeteria. Stephen and Michael are good friends. If I didn't have them, I wouldn't make it. But they have good contacts. Stephen in the office, Michael at home. They always know someone who needs a massage with a happy ending. Or a greedy college boy face for a blowjob. The men are usually well-groomed. Too well-groomed, actually. That's why I always look forward to my part-time job as a trainer at the high school gym. If I'm lucky, I get to meet Brad and Chuck. I mean, they're not gay or anything. We never make eye contact. But I still get to blow them sometimes. Even though, of course, it's pathetic when you're a sophomore in college sucking high school seniors. But fuck, you won't find cheesier dicks with a more pronounced scent of musk and sweat anywhere!

Yo, have I even dropped my name yet? It's Janusz, 19 years young and repping as an exchange student up in the Big Apple. Just call me Jonny, keep it chill. Hailing straight outta a tiny village near Krakow, Poland, in case that detail tickles your pickle. Still wrapping my head around this English gig… But let me tell ya, my French game is on point, or so the bros claim. Thrilled to be out of the parental crib and living it up in this wild city. Dang, the possibilities here are endless! Senior year vibes, you know what I'm saying? And now that I joined the wrestling squad, it's like BOOM! More close body action in a week than I got in a year with the 'rents around! Truth bomb: I make most of my cash tagging along with my wingmen Brad and Chuck, the school heartthrobs. I'm like their trusty sidekick. It's lit! Hoping to snag an athletic scholarship next year, fingers crossed. Sure, these two golden boys ain't wrestlers (legends in the bedroom, though), but football studs. It'd be epic if we could keep the bromance alive in college. Purely platonic, of course. Or not… 🤷‍♂️

[jarofstyles]

Flower 2

Okay so I really love these babies so I think I'm gonna do 3-5 parts! I'm loving the tension hehe. Let me know your thoughts!

Flower Masterlist

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WC-4.6k

Warnings- mention of age gap romance, mention of bdsm, mention of bad sexual experiences, loads of sexual tension, low-key sugar daddy h, trust me

Sleep didn’t come too easily for her, but she felt absolutely wired when she woke up. Her coffee only made it worse as she wrapped herself up in the dark wash denim jacket she’d borrowed from Harry when he drove her home a few weeks back. His truck pulled into the driveway and she was grabbing her tote bag and phone, making sure to lock up before turning to face him. 

There was a weird expression on his face- something she couldn’t place. It wasn’t quite angry or mad, but it was a little darker as his eyes ran over her face and then body. He remained quiet until she got down her porch steps. “S’that… my jacket?” He asked lowly. The tone was strange to her as he stepped closer, tugging on the collar of it. 

“Yeah, it’s really cute and I figured I could wear it around today and give it back to you at the end. Is that… is that okay?” She worried her brows. “I can take it off now if you want to wear-“

“No.” He cut her off. “No, it’s totally fine. It just… it looks really good on you, is all.” He mumbled, squeezing her shoulder. “You look beautiful, as always.” His compliment was genuine, feeling his finger tap her nose, making her crinkle it. “Put the shiny stuff on it again? Your fairy sparkle?” 

Y/N laughed out loud at his nickname for her highlight on her cheeks and the tip of her nose. “Mhm. I got a new pink one, think it suits me.” And maybe she’d been a lot more meticulous about her makeup now that she had a feeling this may be a more-than-friends situation. “I really like this look.” It was a tease, considering he wore the same thing off duty. Jeans and some sort of tee shirt with a quirky phrase or obscure musician on them. Today’s was relatively tame with a bee surrounded by some words about honey and health. Cute. “I actually like the tee today. A bit muscle-y.” His arms looked real fucking nice in this one. Of course he would have some considering he worked with his hands and was a pretty physical person but… damn. She allowed herself to admire it, respectfully. 

It wasn’t something she’d caught before but a slight pink brushed his cheeks at her compliment. “Thanks, petal.” He smiled. “I… I got us some coffee, got your favorite. It’s only half an hour away but I figured….”

“You know I love coffee. You’re the best, as usual.” She sighed, leaning into him to have a hug. It wasn’t usual for her to do it first but he reacted quickly, pulling her close as he rubbed her back, content to keep her there forever. He was never the first to pull back from a hug, but Y/N would happily stay like this for hours  if the option was there. He smelled good, was so warm and sturdy and he knew exactly how to play with hair. Unfortunately she did have to pull back, shooting him a shy smile as he took her by the shoulder to the car. 

Of course he opened the door for her, made she she was in properly before jogging to his own side. He ever did the whole hand on the back of the seat while backing out move, which… wow. It never missed. The weirdest turn on, but something about it just elevated a man. 

His car smelled ridiculously good, and judging by the little clips on his air vents, he had just changed them. He had a few lanyards for access to work yards and membership cards to certain stores, but no fun little fuzzy dice, or a air freshener with a kitty on it like she had. There and then, she took a mental note to get him one. Maybe a puppy one, though. His German shepherd was his best friend.

“Are you getting any books?” She asked him after a little time passed. The chatter had been casual so far, easy. The tension she felt since last night wasn’t bad in the car if she continued topic switching and slight gossip. 

“Mm, I dunno. I haven’t done much reading lately. What are you gonna get?” He questioned, sneaking a peek at her as they stopped at a red light. 

“Probably romance. I’ve been most interested in that. I’ve seen some good book recommendations online and the girls sent me some, Gia and I wanted to do a book club thing for one of the books by our favorite author. It’s a bad boy romance but it’s called Reaper.” She figured he’d have no idea what that was, but she watched his brow raise as he gave her a look. 

“Well… you do have a naughty side, don’t you?” He snickered, watching her eyes widen. “Think m’clueless? Just because I don’t read a lot doesn’t mean my ears don’t work. Tony told me his wife was reading that and it’s full of sex. Basically erotica.” He licked his lip, looking her over. 

“Oh- well, yes there’s sex but there’s plot to! Just because a book has sex doesn’t mean it isn’t good!”’she crossed her arms, huffing at him. It was a bit to rile him up a bit considering he was doing it to her and it worked. She watched his mouth open and close before rushing out an explanation. 

“No! No, m’not saying that. It’s not bad at all. It’s empowering, but uh, I was just saying I didn’t expect you to read books like that.” He had to pull away as the light turned green but he looked a little stressed that he offended her. 

“I’m joking, H. I know you didn’t mean it like that.” She snickered, watching his face turn to a bit to a scowl. “What, you thought I’m a nun or something? Just cause I’m not spilling all my stories at the table doesn’t mean I don’t have them.” She knew a lot of the group was very open about their sexual experience which was more than fine with her. Y/N was nosy and loved knowing other people's business, But in her life she didn’t share sex related things. It was private, for her and her partners. She didn’t want to betray their trust either, regardless of the terms they were on. 

“I….” His face was more pink now, hands flexing around the wheel as he cleared his throat. “I just thought maybe you didn’t care as much about it. Which is fine, by the way! It’s cool. I just wasn’t sure you cared too much. You never talk about it when we have our confession nights so I… I was being a bit presumptuous. I’m sorry. It just shocked me a little.” 

It was funny to make him squirm a bit but he didn’t need to feel bad. “It’s fine. Promise. No one really asks anyway, so I don’t offer it up first. I’m usually private about it because some of our friends are loud mouths but you can ask me stuff if you want. Maybe after we get our books you can ask me whatever questions come up.” She knew there would be plenty based on his face alone. 

“Really?” He seemed surprised. “Yeah, sure. I mean, I’m not trying to be weird or anything but you know about the time I called someone by the wrong name and the girl who put her tongue in my ear so….” He shrugged one shoulder. 

“Oh, god.” Her giggle was muffled by her hand. He had shared some of his horror stories and she’d found out he was a bit of a bondage fan and dabbled in kinky stuff but until now that info had been locked away in her brain under padlock and key. Suddenly someone had taken nippers to the lock and it was spilling out again, staining the floor. “Yeah… I suppose that is fair.” Angling her knees towards her, she stirred her coffee with the straw. “I think the worst thing that’s happened to me… hm. Probably the time I went home with a guy after a few dates in college and his place was really gross, but he was even more so. Like…” her nose scrunched. “Took his pants off and there was a smell coming from them. I couldn’t do it.” 

“Oh, fuck.” He hissed, wincing at the thought. That was pretty much a nightmare situation. Harry always smelled good and never seemed to be anything but hygienic so she knew he gave a shit about it but still. No one wanted to think of that. “That’s… unfortunate for both of you. Was he embarrassed? How did you get out of it?” 

“He wasn’t, is the thing. Said ‘girls should like a natural musk’ and I told him that it wasn’t a musk, it was a stench. He wasn’t happy with that so he didn’t refuse when I left. I had to take a long shower after that.” Shuddering in disgust, she hated recalling that. “At first I felt really guilty too, cause that’s such a hard thing… but he ended up being such a dick. It was surprising considering he had been sweet on the dates but apparently men change a lot in the bedroom.” That was an understatement. 

“I can agree with that, but I’d hope it’s a positive change.” He shook his head at the thought. “Like, sweet in the streets and freak in the sheets or whatever the saying is.” 

A laugh peeled from her throat, leaning her head against the headrest with her face turned towards him. “Yeah, close enough. But ideally they would be. I dunno, you don’t have to be crazy to be good in the bedroom but I’d hope for the same level of respect. Some men have no idea how to actually handle women so it’s partly why I stopped dating.” And why she had stayed up looking at his Instagram last night and thinking about how she’d look inserted in his life. Harry seemed like a man who could potentially handle her. 

“I wish I could disagree but I can’t. I’ve heard many horror stories from girls, way more traumatizing than men. It’s why…” he stopped himself. “Sorry, was gonna overshare. But I can only imagine how it is and if it’s any consolation, I’m sorry for all the men.” 

God, he was cute.  But… wait. 

“No no, you can definitely  overshare.” She perked up. “If you want to, anyway. I don’t mind.” Blinking at him, he cut a look at her and let out a laugh as he lifted a hand to run it over his chin, the slight sound of skin scratching stubble audible in the cab of his truck. 

“Well, I was gonna say it’s why I try t’be aware of that when I’m with someone that their comfort is first. If there’s anything they don’t like they can say it, that m’not gonna be mad. I don’t want someone to walk away from something with me and feel uncomfortable.” Seeing him a little shy was really fucking adorable. “I don’t really do hookups anymore. They’re not fulfilling, at least not to me. Lost their appeal a few years ago but, the few relationships I’ve been in the whole goal was to make them feel good. I think there’s a lot of selfishness that’s mainly revolved around men and sex, which I noticed a lot. The fact that a lot of women aren’t getting off at all is fucking ridiculous.” He scoffed, looking truly bothered by it. 

Another point added to his growing list. 

“Yeah, it is. It was rare I could because for me, and I think a good amount of women, there needs to be the foreplay aspect of it. Mentally, I need to be stimulated. Y’know, like teasing or not so clean talking.”

It was her turn to feel a little shy but she powered through. “And men can dive right in. It’s where we differ a lot of the time. I think part of it is biological too, I guess. I tried hooking up for a while but it never did anything for me either. I prefer someone with a connection so it’s easier to get to that point.” Now she was the one oversharing. 

“I understand that. I like those things too. A bit of cat and mouse can be fun…” he pushed his hair back before returning his hands to the wheel, squeezing it. “It’s laziness and selfishness. I’d say for me personally, M’more of a giver. Not saying it to praise myself or anything but it’s just… it’s what I like.” There was a pause. “Sorry if that’s a bit much.”

No, it wasn’t enough. She wanted to know more. Her neglected cunt was more than interested in how he was in bed and if he’d like to be a giver for her, but she had to at least try to behave. 

“It’s not. We’re just being honest, right?” She placed a hand on his knee, giving a daring squeeze and let it linger for a few moments before peeling it away. Again, testing the waters of initiating touch. Once she’d realized last night that she hadn’t shown her own interest much she had vowed to at least try today to see how he'd respond.

In this instance his smile grew and he couldn’t look right at her, but he nodded at what she’d said. “Yeah. I jus’ don’t want to seem like some creep. But uh, what other sort of books do you like? Romance, yeah, but what sort of tropes?” He did know some of those. 

“Oh, I’m pretty adventurous.” A double meaning. “I like the grumpy and sunshine ones, the billionaire romances, mafia is a guilty pleasure. Meet cute is something else I enjoy for a light read. I dunno, I think I mainly go for what the summary calls to me for. I do read some darker stuff but it’s nice to have a little fantasy world to escape to. And the fantasy men know how to find a clit.” Throwing the joke in there was meant to diffuse some of tension but somehow it seemed to make it grow. 

Not in a bad way, per say, but he looked at her curiously. “Don’t tell me that all of them couldn’t….”

“No, no. Some of them did, but majority no. They rub the side and think they’re doing something. But I’ve never faked it, I refuse to give a man an ego boost for something he didn’t do.”

“Good on ya, petal. S’bullshit that they get off and you don’t.” He genuinely seemed bothered by it. “Buncha pricks is what they are.” 

“They are.” She snickered. “But I’ll let you read some of the blurbs for the books I pick out today, you can get a read on what sorta books I like.” It was yet again, another way to experiment. 

“I’m very intrigued to see what you’re into.” 

Y/N hopes that held a double meaning too. 

—-

Harry was hovering a bit. 

Normally that would annoy her. She’d huff and tell him to sit in the cafe, or go look at his own books- but she hoped that it was because he was paying attention to what she picked up. 

Plus, he was holding the basket for her. 

The store was earthy and rustic, exposed wooden beams running along the ceilings. There was a little cafe that served teas and coffees which she definitely planned on getting after her shopping, and from her nosy look over when Harry greeted the owner she had seen a blueberry scone. That would be coming home with her too. 

The shelves were high and they had multiple different sections. It was far bigger than any indie bookstore she had been to in the past , and that lead her to quickly realize quickly she was going to make a monthly trek out here. Maybe Harry would be interested in joining her in them. 

Maybe he’d be interested in doing a lot more with her. 

“I’m almost done.” She promised, plopping a used copy of a vacation town romance into the basket. It had to be a little heavy but Harry didn’t complain. It didn’t even look like the weight bothered him, the basket hanging off his arm. They’d stuck mostly to the used section considering they were far cheaper, but she was ready to go for the new ones now. 

So what if she took a little bit out of her savings for this? She deserved a little treat for once. 

“There’s no rush, Flower.” He assured her, following closely behind her as she moved towards the new books. “I was wondering if….” There was a pause as she looked up at him. It seemed to make his brain buffer for a moment, his eyes looking over her face before he blinked out of the stare. “Uh, it you wanted to have lunch or something after?”

Why was he so cute, and why did he look so nervous? Maybe Y/N wasn’t giving the signals she needed to. That would be her own fault, but it was hard to flirt when she was as serious as she was about her books. 

“On the condition that the iced mocha with a pump of caramel and the blueberry scone I get for the car ride doesn’t count as lunch, yes. I would very much enjoy that.” She chirped, watching the nerves melt off of his face. It was mind boggling that her of all people could cause him to be nervous in the slightest but you learned something new every day. 

“I’ll agree, because that’s more suitable for a dessert.” He drawled. Harry did like to tease her about her sweet tooth which always made her roll her eyes. So what if a girl liked to have a brownie with each meal? Life is nothing but spinning on an orb in space. You may as well enjoy the creature comforts. 

“If that’s your dessert I don’t think you’ve had a true one in a while.” The flirtation was light, testing the waters as she looked over the book covers. His eyes could be felt on the side of her face as he was quiet for a moment before letting out a little laugh. 

“Suppose I haven’t. You’re right. Maybe I’ll need to try yours and see what you mean.”

And oh. Oh. She did everything in her power not to react besides a little smirk, though she could feel the heat radiating off her cheeks. Harry could most defintely try her dessert whenever the fuck he wanted. 

“Should you be so lucky.” Was her slightly snarky reply, but he followed it up quite quickly. 

“One could only hope, Petal.” 

And yeah, maybe she felt her new heartbeat between her thighs as the newly heavier silence settled on them like oil in water, but it wasn’t necessarily bad. The anticipation was in her stomach as he got a bit closer, looking over her shoulder at the book she had picked up and was currently reading the back of. 

“What’s this one?” He asked, so close that she could feel the heat of his body against her back. 

“It’s called The Highest Bidder. It’s about… a girl who goes on an auction block at a BDSM club, he is one of the owners? Well he’s one of the richest. Anyways, I saw someone recommend it saying it has sugar daddy vibes and there’s some juicy stuff in it.” Y/N explained, taking the moment to lean back into him as she held the back cover for him to read. 

If he was surprised he didn’t show it. Instead, his hand came up to rest on her shoulder, pinky finger nearly grazing the side of her neck as he looked over to read. Such a casual touch of affection, but he seemed to like it. “And you’re gonna get this one?” It was a bit weirdly arousing feeling the vibrations of his words through his chest and onto her back. 

“I think so. I haven’t read an age gap for a while. Just hope the sex scenes aren’t shit. It’s hard to tell with books sometimes, even if they’re more kinky oddly enough. I’ve seen books that have the best summaries and seem super steamy have a two pump sex scene- or fade to black. Which, you know, is fine. Not all books need to have that, but what’s the point of making the book seem like it then?” She muttered. Clearly she had been victim to it a time or two.  “Then the authors get mad about low goodreads reviews. It’s like, cmon! Don’t mislead the readers about the book then.” 

It was something the woman did get passionate about when provoked, but Harry had opened that can of worms in the car when he had given his go ahead that he didn’t mind discussing things like this with her. 

“Mm. I see.” He nodded and she swore she could hear the smile in his voice. “Show me the others you want to get.” 

Y/N felt increasingly more comfortable as she went through the next five books, letting him read the back covers and giving him the low-down about what she had heard about them. Each time they moved their position would go back to where it was, with his hand on her shoulder and her back leaned into him, only he had gotten a little braver with running his smallest finger back and forth over the side of her neck. 

It nearly made her choke when she first felt it. She definitely stuttered when he did it, but she didn’t comment on how the little action felt incredibly intimate and soft, yet charged with an unspoken sexual energy that would probably kill her if she thought about it too long. Harry was being casual about it, but he always had been. He’d been the first to initiate most touches with her that Gia said were abnormal. Of course he didn’t start off their friendship by being super grabby and touchy but it had morphed into that, and it definitely did take him by surprise when she had initiated last night and again today. Kind of like she was reinforcing that it was more than okay to touch. 

“Are you sure you’re done?” He asked after placing her final book in the basket. Y/N felt like if she didn’t stop this weird, hot position of him asking questions about the books earnestly and his chaste-yet-sexy touches she may bend over the book table and get inappropriate really fucking fast. 

“Mhm.” She assured him. “Please, I’m gonna have to dip into the rainy day fund to afford all the stuff from today but it’ll be so worth it.” The sun shone through the windows and highlighted his features which, god, had her testing her own willpower. Of course she was far too shy to be super direct with him verbally, but she didn’t hide the fact that she was admiring him. 

Considering she had already been successful in her little experiments today, she saw the lock of hair that had flopped over his forehead and decided to push it back. Letting her fingers card through his hair, she pushed the strands out of his face and back into place. If she hadn’t been looking so intently she wouldn’t have seen the shiver he had from the action. His hair was so soft and obvious that Harry took care of it, and she had never really touched it all that much but the temptation had been too much. “Sorry, it was bothering me so it must have been bothering you.” She said simply, giving him a small smile. “I’m just gonna run to the restroom quickly and then we can check out. Okay?”

“Course.” He cleared his throat, nodding his head as if the question had taken a moment to load in his head. “I’ll be by the cafe then.”

Y/N really hated that bookstores made her have to go in there but it was a right of passage. Taking care of her business took only a few minutes, but when she came out she didn’t see him at first. 

He wouldn’t just leave her, so it took her a second to realize he was leaving the counter, two bags of books hanging off his arms and two coffees in the little tray. A brown paper bag clutched crumbled in the hand he used to balance the drink tray, making her eyes widen.

“Hey! I was gonna pay for our coffees and stuff.” She pouted as he approached. “You’ll have to let me get lunch then.” Her eyes went down to the two tote bags with the store logo on them. “Ooo, that’s so nice that they gave you these to hold them in. Let me just grab my wallet and we can go to the till to-“

“Don’t worry about it.” He cut her off, shrugging a shoulder. There was a pregnant pause, her eyes blinking rapidly before her eyebrows crinkled. 

“What do you mean? I have to pay.”

“They’re paid for.” The reply was simple and matter of fact. Again, words escaped her as she looked between him and the books. 

“Did you-“

“I paid. It’s fine, Flower.”

“Uh, what?” Her eyebrows shot up as her stomach dropped. It did the weird thing that had her feeling a little lightheaded as he stood there, like he didn’t just spend probably close to two hundred on books. “No way I can accept that.”

“If I told you I got a discount for building this place will it help?”

“Harry.” She said quietly. “You…. Why?” 

“Because I’m happy you agreed t’spend the day with me.” The reply was so to the point, not hiding anything at all that it almost felt unreal. Hell, it did feel unreal because who the fuck spent two hundred on books for a friend? Granted, she had a feeling-or a hope- there was a crush in there, but it felt like a huge gesture. 

“You already do so much for me.” She swallowed the lump down her throat. “You help me at my place and you drive me home from get togethers and you buy me drinks when we go out and… I feel like it’s a lot. I surely don’t do as much for you.”

“I’d do even more if you let me.” He stared honestly, nothing but truth on his face. “So jus’ let me do this for you. I want to. It makes me happy.” 

Y/N didn’t know how to argue with that. Instead, she nodded, and reached to take the bag and coffee tray from him since he had the much heavier books. “Thank you. I could cry, probably.” That wasn’t a joke. Her eyes felt like they were stinging. 

“None of that, Petal.” He shook his head. “C’mon. I’ve got plenty of questions and you’ve got answers you promised me on the way here.” Without thinking twice, he grabbed her free hand with his own, tangling their fingers before leading her to the truck. 

Y/N had no idea how so much had changed in 24 hours,

But she had a feeling it was about to change a whole lot more.

[gghostwriter]

Can I request a Lil fluff with the team (mainly Spence) where the reader had a massive potty mouth (like they're from a country that isn't so harsh about swearing, England, Australia, New Zealand?) But she's all very professional when need be but when talking with the team she's cursing up a storm (maybe the terms "good cunt" and "shit cunt" turn up?

Good cunt means someones great, amazing

Shit cunt meaning well someone's bad) and Spence gets anxious but she reassures him that she's not swearing AT him but more making sure her words hit to where they need to go?

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader Trope: Friends who Flirt (?) ; Fluff just fluff! w.c: 0.9k Warning: CM violence; citizenship inaccuracies idk A/N: Apologies again that this took a while! I am not from Australia so I had to search up some more slangs to use for this. I hope I did it justice and I had fun writing this, Anon! Thank you for requesting 💗 Main masterlist

Down Under. // Spencer Reid

It wasn’t your fault the Americans didn’t have ‘swearing’ programmed in their DNA. It was although your fault why you ended up in the FBI—receiving looks and eyebrow raises from the team—rather than in a bustling city of your homegrown country in the southern hemisphere, Australia. 

But you really couldn’t blame yourself now could you? The idea of giving up your citizenship to be a part of the illustrious BAU was too good to pass up. So you packed your bags, entered the FBI Academy, and passed with flying colors—nearing perfect that David Rossi pulled ranks just to get you in the team even with how green you still were. 

“So what do we have?” you asked, rounding into the conference room with Spencer in tow. 

“Sadly, my precious koala, we have murder,” Penelope answered with the remote in her hand, flashing the photographs of numerous mutilated bodies. “Jacksonville, Florida reported a series of killings over the past month and it’s not looking pretty. Each victim had been dumped in alley ways and all missing a toe.” 

JJ slightly reeled back. “Well, that’s a new type of trophy.” 

“It’s not very common,” Spencer backed up. “Jerome Brudos, ‘the Shoe Fetish Slayer’ is the only known serial killer that kept a foot trophy from his first victim. He was only named as such because of his disturbing foot fetish and collection of women’s shoe catalogs that he considered as pornographic material.” 

“Ah a shit cunt,” you remarked, making Spencer shift on his seat to look at you with inquiry. 

“Y/N,” Emily warned. “Alright, wheels up in thirty.” 

———

The case file was too thin for the team’s liking. How was it that a serial killer with five, possibly six, victims under his belt only had a couple of pages on it and with incomplete identifications and no missing or initial reports done. 

“Emily, is this it?” Luke waved the slim folder up in the air. “I mean, I know the victims were all homeless but damn. Did they even walk and ask around?” 

She sighed. “I called it in and the only reason we were invited is due to the upcoming elections.” 

“Bogan coppers are they? Why doesn’t that surprise me at the least,” you scoffed

“Matt and Luke, you’ll visit the last location of the body—” Emily instructed before turning to the rest of the team. “JJ, coordinate with the media to get them to cooperate. Y/N and Reid, talk to the forensics. Rossi and I will settle base at the station.” 

A series of hums and agreements echoed throughout the compact jet before settling into a lull. 

Spencer shifted on his seat, turning to face you who was busy shifting through the papers. “Hey, in the office you—“ he cleared his throat. “said a phrase, what did it mean?” 

You turned slightly, noting his nervous gaze. “You mean ‘shit cunt’?” 

He nodded. 

“It means someone bad, low life, scum of the earth—wait, you don’t think I meant you, right?” 

“What—no, no!” He sighed, having spied your raised eyebrow. “Well, maybe? I didn’t know what it meant so I don’t know.” 

You giggled. “Spence, if I was going to describe you it would be—pardon my French, good cunt.” 

“For someone so tiny, you sure do curse a lot,” Rossi interjected. 

“What can I say, us from down under just have colorful vocabulary,” you shrugged. 

———

The team was finally back in home base after five days in the sweltering heat of Florida and you couldn’t feel any more tired than this moment as you waited for your sister to come pick you up. Granted you could taken the last train ride home but you just didn’t trust yourself to not miss your stop plus she volunteered so you hastily agreed—never one to say no. 

“I think I’ll wait until your sister arrives for you,” Spencer volunteered, taking your go bag out of your hands. 

“I am an FBI agent, Dr. Reid,” you teased. “Perfectly capable of taking care of myself”

“And I don’t disagree! I’ve seen you take down Luke in training and shoot multiple unsubs but you look dead to your feet.” 

You blushed, grateful that the night made it less obvious. “So are you my knight in shining armor then?” 

He cleared his throat, holding on to your gaze. “I could be.” 

You sucked in a breath. 

The temperature between you suddenly felt hot. Did that mean what you think it meant? Did that mean he liked you too? You opened your mouth to ask but was interrupted by a car halting to a stop in front of you. 

It was your sister, what rotten timing.

“Oh please, stop caking and get in before I get ticketed or better yet make it worth it and just pash already!” She shouted through the rolled down window. 

“Caking? Pash?” Spencer repeated. 

“Well—I have to go. Thanks for keeping me safe, Spence.” 

He stops you on your tracks, holding to your hand. “Wait what do those two words mean?” 

You laughed, squeezing his hand in return, and felt a sudden burst of confidence. “Come find me when you figure it out.” 

With a wink, you left Spencer dumbfounded and dazed on the sidewalk.

Some notes: Bogan - an uncouth or unsophisticated person Coppers - policemen Caking - flirting Pash - passionate kiss

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 15- Miguel x Reader (Breeding Kink)

*Requested by several readers ;) *

        It all started with just a simple phrase. Just one little thing that you did not think anything of. Two little words that you always said whenever you were stressed out. Who would have thought that your five seconds of brain rot would be what made Miguel finally snap. The man that you had been lusting over was finally making his move and you were not sure if it was a good thing. Who were you kidding, you fucking loved it.

        Backtrack to earlier that day. Miguel had called on you for a quick anomaly capture that you were more than eager to join. You had been at the Spider Society for a few months now and tried your very best. You wanted to make an impression. At least to Miguel. He was handsome and just your type. Especially when he spoke Spanish to you. Oh, you could feel a puddle form between your legs. The man was quick to turn you into putty every time he looked at you with those piercing red eyes of his.

And his fangs?!

        Oh, when you first saw him smile with those fangs, your imagination went wild. Miguel was built and tall. Who knows what he packed under that suit. You wanted to find out, but you had to do it the right way. You first needed to confess to him, then hopefully date him, then from there on...well, you never got past the confession part. You always felt the words catch at your throat whenever you thought about telling Miguel you liked him.

        Anyway, you quickly returned to your mission, wanting to please Miguel. He was waiting for you with this capture and the report. This was going to be your chance to confess...again...

----------

        Miguel stood on his platform, working on some other reports for the spider society. He stopped for a moment to watch you on the cameras. He eyes focused from your determined expression to your curves. That suit was tight against your skin. Skin he wanted to touch. Miguel sighed heavily as he tried to look away. You were just perfect. Miguel had a hard time talking to you because all he wanted to do was ravish you. You were the perfect woman for him. The perfect woman for him to fill with his cum.

"Maldita sea, otra vez. (Damn it, again.)" He groaned under his breathe as his cock harden at the thought.

        Miguel could smell your arousal whenever you spoke to him. He always had to find a way for you to leave. He had no choice. He wanted to fuck you dumb. To make you his. To keep you from putting yourself in danger. Miguel knew that these thoughts were animalistic, but to be fair, he was half Spider. Miguel groaned as he stroked his cock, thoughts of breeding you flooded his mind. 

-----------------

        You cheered as you successfully completed your mission. You dropped off the anomaly and went to find a quiet spot to work on your report. You hummed to yourself, seeing how late it was getting. Hopefully Miguel was still in office by the time you finished. Just thinking about Miguel made your pussy clench. You wanted him bad. Hell, if he told you to get on your back right now, you'd fold.

-----------

        Miguel groaned lowly as he looked at the time. He needed to go home. He needed some sleep, but he was waiting. Waiting for you. He'd make up any excuse for why he was still there, just for you. Miguel watched you on the cameras as you made your way to his office. His daily dose of you and your aroma. He just needed to be in your presence for just a little bit in order for him to fuck himself later. Just so that he can listen to your sweet voice.

"Sorry I'm late, I may have dozed off." You lied, hurrying into his office.

        Miguel inhaled deeply to your voice. Dozed off? He could smell how strong your arousal was. Miguel approached you, reaching for the paperwork. He grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand towards his lips. He was acting on instinct while you watched in horror. Your face turned bright red as Miguel casually licked your fingers.

"¿Por qué me haces esto, muñeca? (Why do you do this to me, doll?)" His voice was low as he groaned. 

Ohhhh, you were folding.

"S-Sorry, what did you say?" You stuttered, knowing full well that Miguel could smell the fact that you just masturbated.

"I'm not dumb,"

"Fuck me," You whispered ever so lowly, "I-I wasn't think-"

"Que? (What?)" Miguel's eyes widen as he pulled you closer, "Don't say something you'll regret."

        You gasped as Miguel dragged you to his desk, pinning you with his hips. He hungrily attacked your neck while his hands roamed your body. This wasn't how you planned things to go, but fuck it. This was one way to get with Miguel. Who would have thought that his senses were that strong? At least you knew that Miguel liked you back.

"Me aseguraré de que no te arrepientas de esas palabras, muñeca. Voy a follarte tan jodidamente bien. Llenarte. (I'm going to make sure you don't regret those words, doll. Going to fuck you so damn good. Fill you.)" Miguel groaned as he rubbed his growing erection against your soaked suit.

"M-Miguel...You know I don't-"

"I know, but you get so wet when I do." Miguel licked your lips as he ripped the bottom half of your suit with his talons, "So I'm going to keep talking to you in Spanish, whether you understand me or not."

        You whimpered lowly as the cold air hit your wet pussy. Miguel groaned at the sight, watching your lips twitch, waiting to be filled. He removed the suit around his cock, letting it free. Just the sight of his cock near your pussy was making him drunk. Miguel captured your lips against in a feverish kiss as he held your hips in place. You spread your legs, moaning into him as you felt his cock starting to enter your folds. It was a good thing you masterbated beforehand.

"Tan apretado, pero tan bueno. Mírate esperando que te folle, qué buena chica eres para mí. (So tight, yet so good. Look at you just waiting for me to fuck you, what a good fucking girl you are to me.)"

        You threw your head back, moaning loudly as Miguel kept shoving his cock into you. Your walls were sucking him in as he stretched you out. His tip just rubbing against your cervix, making you cry. You tried to look at him, but Miguel started to thrust deeply into you. Your body arched as you moaned his name. He pressed your legs against him, holding your waist so that he kept his hard, deep thrusts into you.

"Un ajuste perfecto. Eres tan jodidamente perfecta, muñeca. Voy a follar este coño hasta que se llene de mi semen. Voy a hacerte mía. (A perfect fit. You're so fucking perfect, doll. Going to fuck this pussy until it's filled with my cum. Going to make you mine." Miguel moaned lowly, drunk off your pussy.

"M-Miguel~" You cried out, reaching your orgasm.

"Así es. Ábrete a mí. Tu cuerpo quiere que te dé un bebé, ¿no? (That's right. Open yourself to me. Your body wants me to give you a baby, don't you?)"

        You gasped as Miguel placed you in mating position. You bit your lower lip, never experiencing such pleasure. You could have sworn that you heard something about a baby, but at this point, you didn't care. Miguel was fucking you so good that you didn't care if he got you pregnant. You just wanted him to keep fucking you.

"(Y-Y/n), I'm....fuck...gonna fill you up..." Miguel groaned, slamming his cock into you at a more brutal pace.

        Your eyes nearly rolled backwards as you felt his cock bruise your cervix. His balls slapping so hard against your skin that it was making your legs and pussy numb. Once he slowed down, you trembled, feeling his hot semen flow into your womb. His cock was still twitching inside you as you milked him dry. Trying to come back to your senses, you breathed heavily, facing Miguel.

"We can count this as a first date," You joked, catching your breathe. Miguel's pupils were blown as he captured your lips in another harsh kiss,

"I'm not done with you, muñeca (doll.)" He pulled out slowly before slamming his cock back into you, pushing his cum back inside, "Puedo follar durante horas, cariño. Deberías haber pensado en venir aquí oliendo tan caliente. Voy a poner un bebé dentro de ti, y si no esta noche, mañana. (I can fuck for hours, sweetheart. You should have thought about coming in here smelling so horny. I'm going to put a baby inside of you, and if not tonight, then tomorrow.)" 

        You moaned as Miguel kept his pace. Tears formed from the corner of your eyes from the overstimulation. You could feel another pool of heat forming. Trying to reach for him, you let out a whine as Miguel grabbed your hands instead. He brought his fangs to your neck while his hips snapped into yours. Miguel groaned, relishing in the sounds the two of you were making. He wanted to make sure he planted a baby inside of you. Trailing his fangs against your neck, Miguel enjoyed watching you tremble,

"Así es, corre para mí. Deja que tu cuerpo se entregue a mí. (That's right, cum for me. Let your body give itself to me.)"

"Miguel!" You cried out, reaching another orgasm. Miguel hummed lowly, holding your hips against,

"Good girl." He smirked before fasting his pace to fill you once more, "Puedes darme otro, verdad? (You can give me another one, right?)

--------------------

        You weren't sure how long Miguel kept you in his office. When you woke up, you were in Miguel's home with cum still dripping down your legs. Miguel came to check on you, apologizing for being too rough. When you told him it was fine, he started to give you light kisses. Those kisses then turned into his cock drilling you from behind with you head pressed into the mattress.

"Impresionante, ¿tu cuerpo me extrañó después de unas pocas horas? Mira cuanto semen salió, tengo que rellenarte. No puedo permitir que desperdicies mi preciosa semilla. (Awe, your body missed me after just a few hours? Look how much cum came out, I have to refill you. Can't have you wasting my precious seed.)" Miguel teased.

"M-Mig....I...I gotta-"

"Hm? Gotta what?" Miguel held your hips closer, destroying your poor cunt, "Gotta get pregnant, right? That's what my good girl wants, right?"

"Mhm...Y-Yes~" You moaned out, feeling yourself about to cum, "G-Gimme...P-Please..."

"Así es. Tu cuerpo quiere mi semen. Serías perfecto para mi bebé. Hazme padre. (That's right. Your body wants my cum. You'd be perfect for my baby. Make me a father.)" 

        You gripped the bed sheets under you, moaning into the pillow as Miguel kept his rough thrusts. At this point, you didn't care if he got you pregnant. His cock drilling your pussy was too good. You got what you wanted and shared your feelings with him, sort of. You just skipped a few steps and found out last minute that he was a breeding kink. That wasn't the worst thing.

"Mhm~" You trembled as you felt Miguel fuck you as he cummed inside your womb.

"Miguel, your assistance is needed on a mission." Lyla appeared for two seconds before vanishing. Miguel cussed lowly, holding your hips as he tried to pull one more orgasm from both you and him,

"I'll be back later, don't waste a single drop, mi vida (my world). If you do, then I'll have no choice but to fill you back up, understood?" Miguel hummed lowly, successfully making you cum again,

"Y-Yes!" You cried out. Miguel chuckled lowly, slamming his cock as deep as he could, giving you one last fill,

"Good."

[themuseofaphrodite]

can’t turn back now ✧ OB87

summary: ollie bearman may be the most popular boy in his year, but even he has trouble with asking his crush out on a date. 

trigger warnings: suggestive content, swearing

word count: 1.1k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Only three more days remained until the winter formal, and Ollie Bearman still hadn’t asked his crush out. It was so embarrassing, how his throat dried up and his hands became extra clammy whenever he was around you. He’d tried at least seven times, but it was like a spell was cast every time he attempted to bring up the conversation. You were so beautiful, with cinnamon ringlets and bright green eyes, and a laugh that sounded like twinkling bells. It wasn’t just your beauty that made him dumbstruck; you were super smart and funny too. On top of that, you never hung on to him or made him feel as if he was being used for a leg up in the social pyramid of school. You were special, and he wanted you to know that.

How would he do that, though?

He didn’t want to be too sappy, because you’d told him before that grand romantic gestures repulsed you. “It’s too similar to a romcom. Cute, but it should stay on a telly screen.” That crossed out every idea he had so far: a big bouquet of flowers sent to your dorm, writing a puzzle in the school newspaper for you to solve…

“Hey, Ollie!” you called out, jarring him out of his thoughts. You jogged up to him with a big smile plastered on your face as you asked, “Are you ready for this weekend?”

Ollie blushed. “Yeah, kind of. All my friends have dates, so I’ll probably be seventh-wheeling if things don’t change soon.”

“Aw, Ol,” you mock-pouted. “Poor you, most popular boy in year twelve. And you can’t find a girl to ask out? I think I know at least ten who’d gladly accept your offer.”

The only girl I want to ask out is you, but I can’t fucking talk when I’m around you, he thought frustratedly. “Yeah, I have someone in mind. Just, um, waiting for the right moment.” He tilted his head to look down at you, a shy smile dancing on his lips. “What’s up, though, Y/N?”

“Oh, um, I was wondering if you knew whether we had an exam in literature today. Penny keeps telling me we are, but I think she’s tricking me.” Your best friend Penny loved making you panic over exams, since she knew how seriously you took them. This time, she’d roped all your other friends into her prank, so you weren’t sure if you should take her for her word or not. “Do you have any idea if she’s right? Or did she get to you too?”

Ollie shook his head. “No, I don’t think we do. Professor Gilliam would have told us for sure.” “Yeah, on that damn cursed blackboard,” you responded, nodding your head in agreement. “Fucking Penny keeps lying to me. I’m so annoyed.” “Sorry, Y/N,” Ollie said apologetically, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet. He curled his hands into fists, preparing himself for what he would do next. “Anyways, I had a question of my own to ask you. Um…”

You looked up at him, subconsciously leaning forward like Ollie was about to tell you a secret. “Don’t tell me you stole Gilliam’s planner and you want my help to hide it.”

Ollie laughed, but it sounded shrill and fake to his ears. “No, definitely not. Um, it’s something else.” He worried at his lower lip, thinking how best to phrase this. “The winter formal is coming up, and I was wondering…” 

You blinked up at him, still confused. 

This is the point of no return, Ollie mused internally. Please God, don’t let me fuck this up.

“I was wondering if you would do me the honors of being my date?” he finally spat out, the words clipped and almost indecipherable.

Your face froze in shock, jaw dropping a moment later as your brain processed what Ollie had said. “You…You want me to be your date?” you stammered out.

Ollie nodded, panic starting to well up in his gut, his fight-or-flight response activating the longer you didn’t say yes. He steeled himself, willing himself not to bolt or melt into a puddle of mush on the pathway where you stood. “Yeah. If you want. If you already have a date, I understand. It’s totally OK, Y/N, if you don’t want to go with me.”

“Oh…Ol…” You looked up at him through your eyelashes, clasping your hands behind your back. “Of course I’d like to be your date. I was wondering when you’d grow the balls to ask me out.”

A surge of relief flooded through Ollie and he let out a long sigh. “Thank God. I was worried I’d have to change my name and leave the country, that’s how mortified I’d be.”

“You think I’d really say no to you?” You questioned him, crinkling your nose. “That would be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, and I once cut my own bangs.”

Ollie rubbed the back of his neck, still in shock. “Your bangs are beautiful, Y/N.”

“Yeah, now that I let a professional cut them,” you shot back, giggling. “Not all of us can have perfectly styled hair all the time, Bearman.”

“I might have perfectly styled hair, but you’re fully perfect in my eyes, L/N,” Ollie retorted, his chin jutting out defiantly. “I didn’t ask out those other girls because I knew I wanted to ask you.”

You put your hands on your hips, beaming like a beautiful ray of sunshine. “Yet it took you almost a fortnight to do so. Imagine.”

“You try asking your crush out to a dance, and then you’ll see.”

“I almost had to because you were such a scaredy cat!” you chortled, nudging Ollie playfully on the shoulder. “But it worked out. Guess I’m stuck with you for a while now, hm?”

Ollie elbowed you back. “Hey, Y/N! I’m not that much of a hassle. You know you adore me.”

“Sure, Bearman. Whatever lets you sleep easy at night,” you teased lightheartedly.

“Don’t even deny it. Why else would you stick by me? For my social status? You and I both know you don’t care about that. So, it has to be my charm and good looks.”

“Someone has an ego,” you chaffed. “But you’re not wrong. It’s something about that dopey face that really drew me in.” Thank you, God, for giving me the courage to ask this girl out and the charm to be approved by her, Ollie thought to himself, suppressing a smile as he listened to you talk.

He absolutely could not wait for Saturday to arrive.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[2-dsimp]

hihiii! how would nokka react to their S/O calling them some cheesy name like a phrase like this: "hello my sweet shnookie pookie dokie bear hru?" and then cackles stupidly because I do that with my friends from reaction and it got my gears turning TY!!! ILYSM!!!

『Featuring your yandere husband cringing at you』

——;———;——-

Y/n: “Good morning my shnookie Pookie dokie bear! It’s time to rise and shine!”

You sing songed as you snatched to covers off of his slumbering form. Making him hiss from being exposed to the cold air since he can be sensitive to it especially in the early mornings.

Nokka: “Ugh It’s too damn early for me to deal with this shit, Wife”

Your husband, bemoaned at you being a pissy little baby due to you waking him up. According to his wishes since he had a streaming event planned. For his fellow gym enthusiastic followers who wanted a sneak peek at his weight training regiment.

Nokka briefly settled on snuggling into a stray body pillow. Before a heavy cringe settled upon on his face from registering your offending words. Squinting his eyes, he looked up at you in utter bafflement as if repulsed by the words you were previously spouting.

Nokka: “Did I fuck your brains out too hard last night? Cuz who is this shnookie Pookie dokie bear? I know, It sure as hell ain’t me. Since I only answer to ‘Husband’ “

[thewertsearch]

Resolution to the summoner's mutiny is foggy, as I only understand what has 8een rel8ed to me through the 8rief answers I thought to solicit. Ultim8ely, the ire of the Condesce would 8e such that in the settling dust of the conflict, she would 8anish all from the homeworld, except the young. […] I cannot imagine how she would come to enforce such an upheaval in our civiliz8tion. Though I suppose she will have on her side the advantage of an unparalleled lifespan, and the leverage extended 8y the hideous psychic prongs of her deep undul8ing monstrosity.

Attention is drawn to the prodigiously long lifespan of the Condesce - the empress of Mindfang's time, and Feferi's probable ancestor. I used to think that the modern Empress was a different troll, but now that we're aware of fuchsiablood longevity, I'm pretty sure the two are one and the same.

Based on a line from Feferi's introduction, I was assuming that she was the only fuchsiablood in the universe - but let's take another look at the way that line's phrased.

You are 'the only of your kind' known to possess this blood.

That doesn't necessarily mean she's the only fuchsia troll, does it? For example, it might just mean she's the only Alternian with fuchsia blood, because the Empress doesn't actually live on the planet.

I really want this to be Mama Peixes, because the existence of a living Ancestor has so much story potential. Just how much does she know, and what's her agenda?

Nevertheless, I take the prediction as truth, and find it amusing that a homeworld domin8ed 8y children will 8e the gr8 summoner's legacy. One of them, at least.

Anyway, the Summoner - the boy who could fly - is the reason Alternia is a planetary Neverland, making it clear that he was the original inspiration for Pupa Pan.

It's also notable that we've only just started delving into Alternian history, and we've already learned about two massive rebellions against the social order. Contrary to what Alternians have been led to believe, this oppressive culture clearly isn't natural to them, and they've been fighting it every step of the way.

They don't want to be a murderous empire - they're forced to be, again and again and again.

More importantly, and less amusingly, his legacy will 8e my demise. You see, I first learned his name when I asked who would 8e the one to kill me.

And here's yet another layer to the Quest Cocoon Incident. Vriska wasn't content with living like Mindfang - she wanted to die like her, too.

Given that Vriska knew about the Summoner, one can only imagine how weird she must have been around Tavros. Not only was she constantly berating him, she was also putting him on this bizarre pedestal, comparing him to someone I'm damn sure he never knew existed.

And she'd never tell Tavros about the Summoner, either, because that would allow him to derive confidence from something other than her tutelage. No - she just silently compared him to a legendary hero, and he constantly failed a test he didn't know he was taking.

Seems like something's going very wrong in the Veil.

This seems like a sign that the session is on its last legs, and we're running out of time before it completely turns to static. We're entering the endgame.

The oracle I will resolve to part with. I will conceal it in a crypt 8earing the sign of the expatr8, with a map to its loc8tion hidden in this journal.

The cueball was sequestered in an Expatriate chest, which makes me speculate about whether Equius ever got his hands on it.

He can't see inside it himself - but like Mindfang said, it shouldn't be too hard to find a technological workaround, and Equius is a roboticist. I wonder if either Zahhak ever used it for themselves?

To whomever finds it, 8e wary, for the truth it tells may leave its new keeper 8lind as I was. Though no more.

She warned you, Vriska.

She told you it would leave you as blind as she was.

And it did.

[disneyprincemuke]

ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?

you and charles stare at one another, eyes wide as you freeze in your respective spots of the kitchen: you with a whisk in hand and him with a bowl and an egg.

“what did you just say?” charles asks slowly, afraid to move any muscle in his body. maybe if he stayed this still, he could go back to 30 seconds ago when you hadn’t said what you said.

you tilt your head to the side and furrow your eyebrows. “did i say something?”

knowing damn well you did. he had been threatening to hurl the raw egg at you when you started rambling and listing out reasons why he should not. in a fit of pleads, the first reason you had come up with is: ‘because i love you’. which, in hindsight, is a pretty damning reason not to throw a raw egg at your head.

but with the way charles has reacted to your statement, it seems like that that is not the route you should have taken. you should have said something along the lines of you being best friends; it’s also a good reason not to throw an egg across the room.

“you said something.”

“i really don’t recall.”

charles moves his head back a little, blinking rapidly at you. “i’m pretty sure you said that–“

“okay, okay!” you cry, putting the whisk down on the island of his kitchen. “i did! i said what i said. but i don’t know why i said that!”

you would think that being friends half your life would give you a pass to say ‘i love you’. apparently not. charles still stands where he is with his bowl and egg, gaping wordlessly at you out of shock.

perhaps saying ‘i love you’ to one of your longest friends isn’t acceptable when your feelings reflect the phrase in a way you haven’t been able to understand your whole life. or just maybe it’s absurd to say when he’s got a girlfriend — a girlfriend sleeping in a bedroom not further than 20 metres from both of you.

feelings that have festered and developed since you were 17; that you cannot act on because charles has not gone long enough without a girlfriend for you to make a move on him and feel morally right about it. just when you think that enough time has passed after his breakup, charles comes forward to introduce you to a new girlfriend — one that he’s picked up while trying to collect himself somewhere far from home.

“you do not know why you said that? you just say things without thinking?” charles asks in a hushed whisper, looking over his shoulder to where the room door is closed. “seriously?”

“yes!” you shriek in disbelief. it’s not too long ago that you’ve had to bear the consequence of your running mouth. “remember when i said that george looks cute? in front of his girlfriend?”

charles smiles slightly, giggling softly at the memory. “ah, she didn’t talk to you for how long?”

“3. up to now, she does not want to answer my messages,” you grin slightly, though there’s a bitter taste if your mouth at the fact that carmen is still ignoring you. but that’s besides the point. “quite sad. i miss her.”

“oh my gosh,” charles says, puts the egg into the bowl and puts it down on the table. “you…” he blinks. “you… have feelings for me?”

it’s your turn to gape wordlessly at him. there could be 2 ways this situation goes: he would be appalled and… you can’t even imagine it going your way.

it was one thing to spend the past couple of years pining and hopelessly thinking of being together with a friend, but it’s another to admit it outright and not be embarrassed about it. what if he asks you when you started feeling like this? how are you supposed to explain that you’ve had feelings for him since you were 17? that was almost ten years ago.

“what? no,” you scoff, furrowing your eyebrows. “why would you even think that?”

“why are you asking me that? you literally said it?” charles asks, putting a hand up, directed at you in disbelief.

“you were gonna throw an egg at me!” you scoff, pointing at the egg.

“yeah, but you wouldn’t have said it if you weren’t thinking it,” he rolls his eyes, “you have feelings for me?”

you blink blankly at him with your palm now against the marble of the island. “no, you must have misinterpreted it.” you laugh nervously, clutching your stomach and then looking away to avoid his judgemental gaze. “i mean it in a friendly way.”

“a friendly way?” he scoffs back at you. “what does that even mean?”

you take a breath. there is only so many ways you can try and steer the conversation away from what you’ve just said.

“like… we’ve been friends for 11 years! i’m sure i can say ‘i love you’ platonically, right?” you look into his eyes, anticipating and wishing that he will eventually buy your lie.

because realistically, you would rather have and keep him as a friend than lose him entirely.

you watch as he takes steady breaths, looking at you with hesitation clearly written in his eyes. “it doesn’t mean anything, charles. don’t overthink it.”

but you would pray to god that he would overthink it. maybe then he will realise that he also has feelings for you, or that he’s had feelings for you all along. maybe he will finally see that you’ve been here all along instead of putting him through the torment of another failed relationship?

but you watch as the gears turn in his head. his gaze softens as a more genuine smile stretches his lips. “oh, okay,” he laughs airily, picking up his bowl. “for a moment there… you had me!”

you laugh with him, scowling slightly as you turn away from him. “yeah, i got you there.”

“you scared me — i always told carlos he was wrong about the way he claims you would look at me,” charles laughs, appearing by your side. he beams at you when you turn to him before briefly walking away. “you’d never like me like that anyway. you’re too good for me.”

it feels like he’s thrown a knife that went directly straight through your heart. it’s also another type of pain to hear that from the guy you’ve been wishing for.

and while you’ve gone out there, explored choices and let yourself be with other guys, there’s simply nobody as good as charles in your eyes.

it’s almost to the point where it’s pathetic.

you laugh. “i guess.”

“besides, i think we’re better off friends. don’t you think so?”

you clench your jaw, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “of course. i’d never date you.”

@cashtons-wife @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification

[tossawary]

In "The Princess Bride", Westley is (forgive this phrasing, I mean it relatively fondly) "a petty bitch of a man", but I can kind of see where he's coming from giving Buttercup a hard time at the beginning. It's a very human thing to have a temper.

He went off to seek his fortune and was attacked by pirates, which I assume was a bloody and unpleasant experience. He had to beg for his life and spent a long time as their captive, threatened with death every single day, even if it later turned into a less serious morbid joke. Life on the crew of the most famous pirate in the world was presumably pretty harsh at times and he worked his ass off training himself up to be worth feeding and keeping alive, then to be able to hold his own in this new life. Piracy is hardly a very safe profession.

For all we know, Westley did attempt to send letters home, but he probably had to work hard to scrounge up the money for it and find someone semi-legitimate willing to carry it, and this is hardly an era of reliable mail. He probably had to just hope that Buttercup 1) wouldn't hear the news of his first ship's destruction and/or 2) would trust in his love for her enough to know that he was alive and fighting to come back.

When Westley finally becomes the Dread Pirate Roberts, he's still stuck with the former Dread Pirate Roberts for a little while, and then he has a pirate crew who have expectations of him. He cannot sail the damn ship himself. It probably took a lot of work, threats and persuasion and the slow building of trust, in order to get a ship full of men to eventually take him back to Florin. Like, would he even have told them about Buttercup? (It would be funny if there's a crew of pirates out there cheering Westley on in True Love.) Would he have had to promise them some reward?

He also went out in the world to make his fortune and he already knows that he's dreadfully late, so maybe his position is, "Okay, I will build up trust with my crew by building up our fortunes, WHILE slowly but surely moving back across the world in the direction of Florin so that I can see the love of my life again. This hellish experience traveling all over the damn world will all have been worth it for her."

It's possible that Westley was mostly having silly pirate adventures worthy of a comedic operetta, but based on the tragedies of Inigo and Fezzik's own backstories, this world is not actually that nice. Westley is being flippant and lighthearted when he later summarizes things for Buttercup, but he does seem to be one to make light of / ignore his personal suffering. I do think that he did probably make some friendships through this hardship and had some good experiences along the way, especially near the end, but I also think that the beginning of his journey must have been really shit.

So, Westley fights hard to get back home, then lands somewhere in Florin and is on his way back to the farm, but then finds out from some random villagers (or Buttercup's parents) that his shitty former prince is marrying an incomparably beautiful milkmaid named Buttercup. Like...? The love of his life didn't wait for him (she thought he was dead and is also being forced into this, so that Humperdink can murder her to start a war, Buttercup did nothing wrong) and traded up for some SHITHEAD PRINCE??? That has to HURT. (And Westley does not like admitting to feeling pain!)

Even if he loves mischief and drama, Westley is being an unnecessarily huge jerk when he kidnaps Buttercup away from her kidnapping, but also yeah, I see how his temper might be running hot. He's struggling with the fact that his True Love might have moved on after he's probably been using her memory as a thin rope of sanity for years.

[asph-phell3]

So what are we now?.. like lovers?

⠀⠀× Oh my g! I think I can finally have motivation ⠀⠀⠀⠀to write, I feel amazing right now.

⠀⠀× The reader I used kinda sounds a bit ⠀⠀⠀⠀nonchalant because I love sun x moon ⠀⠀⠀⠀dynamics. Sorry ><

⠀⠀× Reader does not have a stated job, their job will ⠀⠀⠀⠀remain ambiguous; takes place in tulpar

⠀⠀⠀Today was tiring, like the rest of the previous days. Jimmy was always asking for you to do this, do that, and do those! Like at this point, it's getting really exhausting even for you. After doing the job that Jimmy assigned you again, you felt like rest was at your door. The urge to crawl into your quarters and sleep for weeks on end was engraved on your mind; somehow you couldn't bring yourself to actually rest despite being so tired. Maybe you were getting used to getting less and lesser sleep now.

⠀⠀⠀You sat at the common room, dazed as you stare at the floor. Your mind projecting random shit for you so that you wouldn't fall asleep or something— the train of memories just ended when you felt something move next to you. Oh, it was Daisuke.

⠀⠀⠀You didn't really interact with other than much, on the flip side, it was mostly Daisuke doing the talking and you just replied with some nods and short phrases but you did listen to him. I'm sure he wouldn't take it as an offense if you found him weird (technically) but still, it feels comforting to talk to him. Out of everyone in the freighter, Daisuke seems the most approachable and friendliest!

⠀⠀⠀Some problems were just starting to bubble up as Jimmy bosses you around, mentally and physically exhausting you to your limit; it was obvious from the look of your face after all. Daisuke looked at you with a big fat hint of worry, the way he stared felt more to you. You just can't seem to point it out, and it's not like you'll say it out loud either.

⠀⠀⠀“..You good? Just asking since you seem tired as fuck.“ Said the sunshine. You just sighed, not knowing how to process your troubles that's mixing in with your exhausted form. “Absolutely deadbeat.“ was your reply. You can't even fathom to reply properly from the overwhelming ache in your body.

⠀⠀⠀“Ooh, how about you go to my room?“ He said. It was a weird thing to ask when both have separate quarters, and not like there was a reason for you to not accept. Not that you'll decline, the company you've wanted has been itching for a while. “Eh, sure why not.“

⠀⠀⠀There in you are in Daisuke's room. Daisuke was just ranting per usual about anything really: his gameboy, Swansea and his work, past events back on earth. The way he talks was slowly getting to you, something about him talking gives you comfort.

⠀⠀⠀“You know, you're really pretty like the Oirase Gorge back in Japan!“ Daisuke just blurted out. It was obvious that blatant that Daisuke often speaks before he thinks— You were a bit confused, not knowing much spots in Japan nor were you the geographic type. You also felt flustered, mostly focusing on the "you're so pretty!" part. Somehow it got to you, why did it get to you?

⠀⠀⠀“Ah- Uh, alright.. I'm sure that place is pretty!“ You tried to strive in confidence while you were breaking down from the embarrassment, you've never been complimented like this before. Somehow you find it endearing. Daisuke doesn't seem to notice the undertone of his words, he just continued on with his compliments with you. Pointing every aspect of you in an endearing way.

⠀⠀⠀Somehow, and I mean SOMEHOW. Somehow, the little complimenting propaganda Daisuke was doing? Oh it ended up turning into a damn ass confession that's what! Now you don't know how to respond; you need to say yes, yet the words aren't processing in your head which led you to just stay as solid as a statue...

⠀⠀⠀“Oh- Oh shit, yeah! Yeah.. I like you too!“ You blurted out, it was more a spur in the moment. It was like that was your automatically reply— Dare I say the ending was just you getting pounced on by your new boyfriend!

omg excuse me for being a lazy on the ending. I'm actually like tired asf!!! Hope this can satisfy you IM CRYING 💔💔

[eighth-heroine]

crazy on you

pairing: soulless! sam x reader

CONTENT: smut RIGHT under the cut, porn what plot, dom/sub dynamic, s&m, unprotected p in v, usage of sir, bondage, marking, slapping/spanking, riding, dacryphilia, overstim, multiple organisms for both, light possessiveness, choking, pain kink? ig goes with s&m

word count: 2.9k

a/n: prompts used by @loveisanimaginarydagger3000 "Phrases/Actions that have my legs divorcing" @smaoineamhsalach "smutty dialogue prompts" @creativepromptsforwriting "smutty one-liners". all can be found in my master prompt list, linked in main masterlist. dividers by @cafekitsune

nothin' left to do at night / but go crazy on you

The door to the hotel room you were staying in slammed, making you fly bolt upright in bed. You relaxed when you saw that it was only Sam, the guy you had been hanging out with (and fucking) all week. His broad shoulders stretched beneath his worn flannel as he unloaded his pockets onto the side table, followed by a pistol from his waistband.

You didn't really know what it was that Sam did all day, sometimes night, or for a living. You had some inkling that it was violent, seeing as how he often came back bloodied (not always his own). But damn, gangster or not, he was good in bed, so you didn't ask questions.

Tonight he looked okay. The only flaws on his face were bruises from the week past, nothing fresh. His warm brown hair was messy, sure, and when he turned around, you saw that his t-shirt was dark with something that was probably blood, but if he had been fighting, the other guy lost.

"Hey," you called softly, voice thick with sleep. His head snapped towards you like he had forgotten you were there. "Welcome back. Kind of late."

Sam walked toward you slowly like a predator stalking its prey. His eyes glinted in the darkness. "It's only two."

Your heartbeat quickened, knowing what came next. This was the routine: Sam left for hours, came back beat up, then fucked you into tomorrow. You weren't sure when the man slept. You had resigned yourself to taking short naps while he was away.

"You're not how I left you," Sam observed.

Shit. He had told you to stay naked after your escapades last night and to be in bed when he came back. You had only fulfilled half of his requirements.

"I-I had to leave to get food," you offered lamely, knowing full well he had left you a credit card to get room service.

"Right," he said slowly, creeping closer. Butterflies fluttered through your stomach and down to your core.

"I'm sorry," you said, crawling backwards against the headboard. Sam tilted his head. "Sir," you added quickly.

The corners of Sam's mouth quirked up momentarily. "Strip."

"You first," you retorted, a rush of confidence emboldening you.

"Behave, I wouldn't want to punish you now." He looked at you warningly and finally touched down on the edge of the mattress.

You gulped and nodded, making quick work of your pajamas. You hadn't bothered to wear any underwear. "Make it even," you told him, shivering in the air-conditioned room.

Sam's head tilted in the other direction, almost like a dog. "Who do you think is in charge here?" he asked, voice dangerously calm.

You took a deep breath and shakily said, "I just wanna see you."

He chuckled, shaking his head, and peeled off his flannel, followed by the t-shirt that was damp with blood and sweat. "Better?" Sam asked, but the way he said it was almost mocking, like you were pathetic for asking.

His large hands gripped your knees where they were bunched up at your chest and spread your legs apart. He looked down at your pussy hungrily and ran a finger through your dampening folds. Your eyes closed at the sensation and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth. After a week of being pounded into the mattress for hours at a time, you were more sensitive than you'd ever been in your life.

You felt him grip your wrists and shove them above your head. You opened your eyes to see him grab a blue tie that had been on the nightstand for days and use it to secure your wrists to the headboard.

You whined and pulled against your restraints. Sam just laughed triumphantly and got up from his seat on the edge of the bed.

"Not fair," you complained as he took the opportunity to remove the rest of his clothes. He disappeared into the adjoining bathroom for a minute, you heard water running, and then he was back, sans blood. He approached the bed slowly, lustfully. The look in his eyes was animalistic, and you had been around him enough to know that it pretty much was. You closed your legs instinctively, drawing back into yourself.

Sam kneeled over you and spread your legs again, more roughly this time. "Do I have to tie your legs down too?"

"No sir," you squeaked.

He grabbed your face and hummed, turning it side to side, fingers digging into your skin. You shivered at his touch, somehow giving you so much and so little at the same time. His head swooped down and he began kissing you aggressively, tongue invading your mouth. The taste of him had become so familiar, you relaxed in his hold.

Then Sam released you with a pop and started biting at the skin on your neck and chest, following the marks he had mapped out days before, darkening them. You arched your back into him, straining at your bonds.

"Sam," you moaned shamelessly.

He took your nipple into his mouth, rolling it gently between his teeth. You gasped and pitched your hips up into him. His hand came down to your stomach, holding you down firmly.

Sam took his mouth off your breast and blew cold air over the spit he left behind. "Come on baby, if you want something, use your words."

You shivered intensely. "Just fuck me already," you whined.

He delivered a sharp slap to the outside of your thigh. You jumped. "Language."

"Sorry, sir," you breathed. "Please."

Sam smirked approvingly, moving up to sit against the headboard beside you. He lifted you up and turned you around so that you were straddling him, twisting your bonds so your arms were around his neck. He dragged his wet mouth up your sternum, breath hot against your skin.

You ground against his hard cock with lips pursed, staring him in the eye, daring him to do something about it. Sam didn't care much about making you use your words in that moment, and lined his cock up with your entrance.

You sunk down gladly, feeling yourself stretch around his length. He swallowed a groan, gritting his teeth and giving you that look again. He was restraining himself. For the time being, you were thankful, because you definitely needed to cum at least once before letting him loose on your body.

Sam's hands fell on your hips, urging you to lift up and start moving. You started bouncing on his cock, hips slamming together, his tip hitting the deepest part of your pussy and still not fitting all the way. Your thighs started to burn and shake and you put more of your weight on your arms, using your bonds to pull yourself up. But you couldn't keep it up and started slowing down, whimpering.

The pain seared up your legs into your dripping core. You could come just like this, you thought. Just clenching around him, staying still. Pain sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You closed your eyes and focused on the knot forming in your stomach, willing it to come undone.

But of course, Sam wouldn't let you. He slapped your ass, bringing you back down to earth. "Come on," he growled. You protested, opening your eyes. "You have to work for it."

"Help me," you whispered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you dragged yourself up and fell again.

"No," he said bluntly. He was smiling coldly, actually enjoying your suffering.

You let out something like a broken sob and began riding him again, slower than before as the muscles in your legs cried out for reprieve. Sam kept his hands on your hips, guiding you as minimally as possible, still making you do most of the work.

"Good," he growled. "Keep going."

He bit kisses into your jaw as you rode him, grinding your clit against his hips, head thrown back. Your breasts bounced as you heaved yourself up and down in a broken rhythm, feeling his cock drag through you unpredictably as your hips stuttered.

After minutes of slow building, the knot inside you suddenly snapped, and you were cumming around his cock before you knew what was happening. "Ah- fuck, fuck," you moaned. You couldn't find the strength to keep fucking yourself with him anymore and dropped.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned as you came fully seated on him, feeling the deepest parts of your walls gripping him like a vice.

You collapsed against his chest, exhausted, your arms suspended above you limply. You felt him tugging at your restraints and they came free, allowing your arms to drop to your sides. Then, he lifted you off his dick and let you fall to the mattress on your back.

Sam was back inside you almost instantly, allowing you little time to recover before he was pumping into you roughly. He propped up your legs, allowing them to fall open on either side of his hips as he fucked you into the mattress.

You could hardly catch your breath with the way he was on you, kissing and biting your lips and jaw. Another orgasm started building inside you, faster than you would've liked. Sam sure knew how to draw them out of you, thrusting at a pace that built the most friction and hit your g-spot with just the right amount of pressure to have you squirming beneath him in seconds. He had learned your body well over the past several days.

You came again with a cry, pleasure washing over you blindingly fast, but Sam showed no signs of stopping, instead doubling down. Tears streamed down your face as he pressed your wrists into the pillow by your head, a feral expression covering his face as he drilled into you.

"Yeah, keep fuckin' comin' for me baby," he growled. A whimper fell from your lips. He didn't even seem close. You had no idea how he had this kind of stamina, especially since you weren't sure if he slept.

Suddenly he released one of your wrists to reach down to the place you were connected, rubbing your clit vigorously. You moaned desperately, hand flying to his shoulder and clawing at his back. He threw his head back and moaned himself, pace faltering.

"Yeah? You like it when I do that, huh," he gritted out. Your nails dug into his shoulder, breaking skin as you came around his cock for the third time.

"Sam!" You practically screamed his name, restrained hand flexing into the air, desperate for something to grasp. Sam grunted and kept thrusting into you, fucking you through your high, and then you felt his warmth seep into you as he followed.

He pulled out and sat back on his knees, continuing to rub your clit as your hands grabbed the pillow behind your head in an effort to lighten the overwhelming sensation.

"Oh god Sam, fuck- stop, please, sir," you blabbered. You opened your eyes to see him stroking his cock to you in the same rhythm as he rubbed your clit; slow at first, but picking up speed in response to your moaning and writhing.

Sam smiled unfeelingly, showing no mercy. "Can't you handle it, baby?" he asked wickedly.

Your hips bucked of their own accord. "Yes, I can- fuck, I can handle it," you whined, eyes wide and shiny, staring desperately at him.

The look on his face alone was enough to send you careening over the edge again, thrashing in his grip as you chased more. More sensation, more of his touch, just more of him. You could feel your mascara melting down your face as involuntary tears flooded out.

You felt him spread your folds with two fingers, smearing your wetness around your pussy and thighs. You jolted as his fingers skated over your clit. "So fucking pretty," he growled. "If only you could see how your pretty pussy is leaking my cum. All pink and puffed up just for me."

Your breath came out in little moans as you struggled to think of a response. "Water," came your voice, barely recognizable to yourself. You tried to sit up and find the glass you'd set by the bed.

Sam grabbed you by the throat and threw you back down. "We're not done yet."

You whimpered, looking up at him to find that same cruel glimmer in his eyes. You felt another pang of arousal rush your body. The way he controlled you was toxic, you knew, but it also turned you on insanely to be thrown around and used like a limp rag doll.

Sam's smile was strangely devoid of emotion as he looked you over, his gaze ending on your face. He wiped your wet cheek with his palm. "Don't cry, sweetheart. I'll give you what you need."

His words were sweet but his expression was deadly. You suddenly found yourself wondering what would happen to you once Sam left. Would he just leave you behind, imprisoned by his memory?

Perhaps it would be your blood staining his shirt one day.

Better to seize the moment while it's still here. You laced your fingers up Sam's neck, grabbing him by the hair, and pulled him down roughly to meet your lips in a messy kiss. He growled into your mouth and gripped your waist tightly. His body weight crushed down on you as he slowly thrust his half-hard cock back inside you. You gasped, the walls of your pussy fluttering at the sensation.

Sam hissed, nose and lips pressed into your neck. His long hair brushed against your cheek. You hooked your legs around him, wanting him closer than was humanly possible.

"Come on, Sammy, fu-uuck," you breathed, nipping his ear.

He jolted up, eyes narrowing on you. His hand was instantly back on your throat, and your own flew up to meet it.

"Don't call me that," he said sharply. His hand tightened below your jawline. You grasped weakly at his fingers. You were becoming lightheaded, but his bruising grip was all you wanted.

Your lips tried to form the words I'm sorry, but no sound would come out. Sam started driving into you, holding you where he wanted you by your neck. With each thrust, the pressure on your neck increased, then decreased. Increased, decreased. You gasped in air on the upstrokes and let yourself become dizzy on the down strokes.

Fire blazed in your core, and you weren't sure if you were cumming again or if you just never stopped. Sam hit deep inside you every time, and soon the pleasure was constant and the pain was fading away. Or maybe it was the opposite. You couldn't tell anymore. You could hardly think anymore, Sam the only thing on your mind.

His hand wrapped around your neck. The weight of him on top of you. The feeling of his cock splitting you open for... was it the fifth time tonight?

"Sam," you rasped, eyes rolling back. The hand squeezing your neck loosened for a moment.

"What?" Sam almost looked angry. He always looked angry, seeming like he had some pent-up rage about something to get out.

"Hurt me," you begged. "Do whatever you want, don't stop- ah!"

Sam squeezed your neck once harshly and let go, hand flying to your thigh, scooping your leg up and pressing it forward, calf resting on his shoulder. He slapped your ass sharply, followed by a slap to your face. You cried out in surprise.

"Such a fucking slut," he grunted, pounding into you harder than you thought possible, his tip bruising your cervix, causing a pleasant ache to rise in you. You couldn't even hope to respond, breath coming out in short pants and gasps.

Pain lit your core on fire, mirroring the blaze in Sam's eyes. You came faintly, feeling exhaustion set in and becoming aware of the layer of sweat that covered your body, dripping onto the sheets.

Sam's skin shone with sweat too, but he glowed. You could only lie there and take it, imagining how worn you looked compared to the god of a man above you.

"Good fuckin' girrrll," he said, sounding strained. His brow knitted together, eyes closed, as his rhythm began to falter once more.

"Give- give it to me," you stuttered, struggling to catch your breath. "Fuck, sir- please!"

Sam's arms scooped underneath you, holding you tightly against his body as he buried his cock deep inside you. His voice cracked as he groaned deeply, pressing into you as far as he could as he released inside you again, shuddering.

It was still for a moment. Sam held you caged in between his big arms, breathing heavily, your hips closely attached. Then he raised his head from where it had dropped into the crook of your neck and fell on your lips, kissing you roughly, letting out the last of his energy for now. You kissed him back with fervor, one hand still tangled in his hair, the other embedded in his bicep.

Sam pulled out, releasing your mouth with one last wet suck, and rolled to your side, pulling you with him to hold you tightly. You traced your fingers dazedly up and down his torso, blinking heavily as exhaustion threatened to take over.

Strangely, Sam didn't seem tired. At least, he didn't seem like he was going to fall asleep, like most men would after going that many rounds. He stared at the ceiling, thinking about something you would never learn. But you had come to expect this from him. He would hold you selfishly until morning, and then he would be gone again, leaving you weak and horny and unsure if he would return in one piece.

You supposed if he didn't sleep, there wouldn't be much else to do at night. You were sure this wouldn't last, he would move on and find another girl to pass the time inflicted by his insomnia. When he left, you would remember how he had made you feel, picturing his face with every other partner, always hoping he would come back and rock your world just once more.