#but then it gets Messier Than Intended

[fauxfroot]

been listening to my akusai playlist again the last few days and making myself emotional about those two dipshits. axel really responded to his decade long divorce by cheating on saix with roxas. fucking incredible choice on his part

[fadebolt]

A thingy I made for the RW Discord's Artfight-like event. The giant Snake-terator belongs to Discord user pebble3494.

[roturo]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ OH! SO YOU'RE INTO OLDER MEN?

˚₊·➳❥ JJK MEN SHOWING YOU HOW A REAL MEN FUCKS! satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro ✧˚ · .

tags: afab!reader, reader is mentioned as a female, use of nicknames (baby, princess, doll, slut, whore), cheating, degradation, caught cheating, getting caught, unprotected sex, blowjob, pussy slapping, mating press, breeding, age-gaps, virginity loss [...] rbs are appreciated!

satoru gojo (Daddy’s girl)

well, that’s the word he used for the little girl you're babysitting right now. he’s a great dad and husband. there’s just this tiny whiny little thing he couldn’t do right– and that’s loving his wife as he should.

like– it’s not that he doesn’t feel guilty, it’s just… well, you looked really cute in that mini dress, he and his wife have been fighting lately anddd– he could tell his daughter liked you more than her fatality of mother she has these days. she even called you mommy by accident once! and that was the last water drop gojo needed for the glass to break.

“Oh- I bet you’d love to be full of me right now.” His thrusts became messier each time he pounded on you, “Mhh, fill you up ‘n make me a daddy again– you’d like that princess?” you couldn’t even talk anymore with how good he’s making you feel– he had your legs pressed on the bed thanks to his arms, almost bending you in half, he was making sure that mating press works.

“Ffffuckk- You feel s’good baby” He felt your walls clenching again, no matter how many times he made you come, he’s making sure you’re coming again after he does. A not ending cycle for him. “Such a slut for me hm? Coming all nice and pretty to this house just to be ruined at night–” his words made you feel dirty, but the euphoria of it was stronger, “such” slap, “a nasty” slap, “slut” slap– “and all f’me” with those last thrusts your body couldn’t take it anymore, spasming and trembling while your poor hole was filled up again. gojo’s wife didn’t even bothered to break your little encounter, she suspected it long time ago.

all that was left was a wide grinning gojo satoru and some divorce papers.

suguru geto (Daddy’s best-friend)

you didn’t intend this to happen… you always knew your dad’s best-friend was hot. he’s geto, ‘cmon. he brings a new girl every weekend whispering in your dad’s ear swearing she’s the one this time.

he saw you grow up, turn into this beautiful and strong woman. so how he couldn’t love you? you were like a doll for him, so beautiful and radiant in every way. a porcelain doll he needed to protect, he couldn’t lose you to any dangerous or stupid man, he swears he would beat the shit out of the guy who breaks your heart first.

“Shhiiiitt– Heh– I can tell how tight your pussy is princess–” His cock was stretching the living shit out of you, touching places never in a thousand years you could imagine you would feel. “what d’ya think daddy would say if he saw his little girl being fucked by his best-friend huh?” your brain was a fuzzy mess, you couldn’t make coherent words to say, and just feel how good geto is making you feel. you couldn’t remember how many times he had made you cum with his toungue and he’s just starting to fuck your pussy.

“ ‘m such a lucky guy if i'm the first you’re giving this pussy to, don’t ya think so doll? marking it as mine, baby I swear you’ll need no man to ever fuck this pussy of yours again– shit I won’t need another woman for myself, you’re the one baby” those words filled your heart of a tingly feeling, making more butterflies roam around your tummy, touching yourself you could sense geto’s cock coming and leaving with every thrust, your brain full of air and in need of more of his cock.

he couldn’t resist himself anymore when he was next to you, his cock would get hard the minute he enters your house, and thankfully he has a pretty doll to release himself with.

kento nanami (Big Boss)

Nanami thinks he’s a good and mature guy– At least for his wife and kids… He has this aura of a serious and mature guy but inside every time he’s just this close to breaking it, just to say what he really thinks or feels.

the first time he saw you at work with your tiny skirts and tight blouses he didn’t mind any type of attention to it, you were another cute worker, that’s all. One of another– he can think other women are pretty too right? maybe even prettier than his wife… and nicer, and cuter, and more homely feeling to be a mom. but he wouldn't do anything he would later regret right?...

“You’re s’pretty baby, such a dirty whore for my cock mhm?” he had you pounding from behind, his desk becoming even messier than it was before, one of his hands keeping you laid down on the desk arching your back like if he’s trying to break it– a sudden ringing brought you back from your unconsciousness of nanami’s cock– he answered the call, not a single sing of him trying to stop thrusting into you.

“Yeah?” his voice was out of breath, almost sounding like a sigh when he answered the call, “Where am I? Huh– I’m at the office r-right now…?” he wasn’t even sure if he could keep this act, losing himself more in the feeling of your pussy clenching on his cock– “Oh yeah- I’m okay, uhh- the kids? yyeah, yeah, they’re with my mom right now–” the feeling of keeping up a call with his wife while fucking you made his cock twitch inside of you, feeling like a teenager kissing their crush for the first time. it was no surprise for him that his wife was cheating, but he wanted to keep it like that for the sanity of his kids. 

“Quit the act Kento– I know you’re fucking somebody else right now. See ya at home.”

toji fushiguro (Step-Daddy)

you hated when your mother started dating new guys. they just kept breaking her heart– but you just stopped telling her that it's okay to live without a partner, that she had you by her side, but well… this new man was something else i guess and you didn’t say anything for the sake of your own good mother.

you didn’t like him, but for the sake of your mother you pretended like you do– and let’s be honest, toji doesn’t like children, so when he first met you he wasn’t as social as others… your mom was just too good to simply let go– but the way you moved, talked, dressed caught his attention, and as time passes and he spends more time with your mom– he's no longer drawn to your house just to see your mother, but to see you. 

“Sshhiit- You’re making me feel s’good baby” the lack of air was making you feel giddy, but the way his cock twitched inside your mouth made your core get even wetter. “C’mon baby, ride my shoe,” you wasted no time before your hips started moving, trying to gain some friction and release that tingly feeling coming from your core. 

“D’ya think your mother would like to see her daughter being full of his step-daddy’s cum?” he gets one of his arms behind himself trying to gain some support while his other free hand caresses your cheeks while you continue sucking– this same hand moves out your head and frees his cock out of your mouth, a small strand of saliva connecting your mouth with it–

“Fuck– guess i choose the wrong out of you two”

[plutolovesyou]

Okay.. but like, loser ellie but she’s also a stoner and explains the entire lore of spider man to you while you’re trying to have seggs and she’s like stoned out of her mind and yapping about literally spider man 😭

before you read!!

☆: THIS IS SO FUCKING FUNNY IM CRYING LMFAO had me dying for like 10 mins straight. this is longer than intended bc im a yapper as we know, and i kinda don't know much of the spiderman lore (and you can def tell oops)…BUT I LOVE THE WAY YOUR MIND WORKS NONNIE.

◇: sfw but suggestive themes. warning: FAR from my best work, just wanted to keep momentum going ig. basically just fluff, lots of buildup as usual SORRY i have to establish a plot before we get to the good stuff…they're of age obviously, their relationship is left vague/up for interpretation so fill in the blanks w/ your own thoughts! “babe” pet name usage, consumption of weed, duh. ok i suppose that's all. OH AND SBWM REFERENCE HAHAHA (shameless self plug :3) + 1.0k wc.

One nice, regular night, chilling at Ellie’s humble abode, getting high, the usual Friday evening activities. You both were laying down in her bed, wrapped up in her dinosaur bedsheets of course, you were resting your head on her chest, occasionally coughing and swatting away the residual smoke that lingered in the air.

The weed had made your head fuzzy and your mouth drier than the Sahara desert, but despite all the not-so-great things, you loved to get high with Ellie.

Sometimes you'd fuck, sometimes you'd talk about life and reminisce about the good, the bad, and the ugly, and sometimes you'd just lay there to enjoy each other's company.

She was so warm and comfortable, you simply wished to merge bodies and become one with her, to make a home inside her ribcage even. You'd be perfectly fine just napping there on her cushiony chest, listening to her steady heartbeat and slow intakes of breath, if it wasn't for the familiar ache of need between your legs.

Shifting to look up at her, she was so incredibly zooted out of her mind, you found it hilarious. Chunky glasses covered in fingerprint smudges and sitting crooked atop her nose, eyes blood-red and so heavy lidded, you'd have thought she was asleep had you not taken a closer look.

You lifted yourself up and pressed your lips to the side of her pink cheek, repeatedly kissing her soft, smooth skin. She let out a husky giggle, her voice all hoarse and crackly from the substance. “Hiiii.”

She dragged out the vowel, grinning widely at you. Her smile was infectious, and you laughed at her state. Burying your face again in the crook of her neck, you mumbled, “Hi Ellie…you're so cute.”

Tangled up together, you kissed her some more on her neck, wanting to be as close as possible to her. She sighed, and angled her head to give you better access to more surface area. “That feels nice.” She'd slur, and you were pretty turned on at this point, to say the least.

It was worth asking. “Ellie…do you wanna fuckkk?” You whisper against her ear, and watch in delight as the bright-red blush spreads across her entire face like a wildfire, even reaching her collar, and spreading underneathyour shirt. “Um, yeah, duh. C’mere.”

You pressed a sloppy kiss to her lips, tangling your hands in her auburn locks and parting your puffy lips to invite her tongue in, not noticing the spit dribble down your chin where your faces met. Her breathing quickened immediately, and she whined into your mouth, the kisses getting even messier to the point where your teeth were clinking together, so you backed away for a breather.

The two of you shifted positions so she was now on top of you, resting her hand on your hip, thumb rubbing small circles. She moved in to initiate more lip-locking, but pulled away abruptly.

“Babe I forgot to tell you, so y’know Peter Parker, right?” And there she goes.

“Yeah, yeah I know him, can you just-” You try to rush past the beginnings of her rambling, because you knew once she got started, there was no end in sight. At least for a while.

You tried pulling her in to meet your lips again by the back of her head, but were met with lots of resistance. She seemed to look more alert now, a miracle. The power of superheroes!

She shuffled off of you and sat upright, assuming a cross-legged position, clearly not noticing your exasperated huffs and purposely obnoxious eye rolling, and the fact that there was a whole-ass human, half undressed, horny girl on her bed right there in front of her, who was slowly losing patience.

Ellie just went to her own world. Her eyes sparkled with passionate wonder as she thought about the series so dear to her heart. “Okay I rewatched all the movies a few days ago and I noticed something new…”

You were ready to give up what you originally had in mind, she was too far gone. She talked and talked endlessly, and you had to feign interest, nodding along and murmuring, “Mhm, yeah Els. Wow that's cool. Huh, never knew.” As enthusiastically as you could, so she didn't feel like she wasn't being listened to.

It was worth noting too though, when she started info-dumping about her interests she really was adorable, an excitement in her grassy eyes you never see otherwise, gesturing wildly with her hands and mapping out ideas to make it easy for someone who's never seen any of it to digest all this new information.

“...And then, in the movies Into the Spiderverse and Across the Spiderverse, there's this character called Gwen Stacy.”

She stops to cough and clear her throat, now seemingly appearing to completely forget that you were even there.

“And- oh yeah! She's also in the comics and ugh she's awesome, I really love her suit. It's got a hood on it…if I were to have a spider suit, it would be her style. Hm, it would also be mostly like, green…with red accents, ah I'm gonna show you all the sketches I made of it. But anyway…”

To be completely honest, you've been out of the mood for enough time now, and you've come to the realization that it actually didn't bother you.

This was Ellie, and you loved her for her! There was always next time you two met for a smoke session, you just loved spending time with someone so treasured such as her, and you'd be lying to say the Spiderman world wasn't a little interesting.

"That's so cool, wait. Okay can you explain the timeline of it all, oh and also how do all these different movies interact, is it the same universe, or something like the multiverse I think you mentioned?”

[stawbeemilk]

⤷ insecurities they think are beautiful; part 2 – hq

✩ characters: various

✩ warnings: none

✩ a/n: i've been super busy with work but i'm finally back! i decided to write a part 2 to this bc i've been feeling pretty down lately. but yeah these are once again all things i personally struggle with or have struggled with in the past ◡̈

⭑ bare face

every time he gets the opportunity to see you without makeup, he swears he feels his heart beat twice as fast. of course he appreciates all the time and effort it takes for you to do your makeup, but he just thinks there's something so intimate about seeing you fresh out of the shower, your hair still damp and your face entirely bare. he doesn't miss the way you tend to avoid eye contact, how you shy away from him and subconsciously try to hide your face, and it makes his heart sink because how do you not realise how cute you are? his favourite part of the day is waking up next to you and getting to see your pretty face, imperfections and all— it never fails to make his heart flutter.

⤷ hinata, fukunaga, iwaizumi, tendou, suna, osamu, ennoshita

⭑ messy hair

he thinks your unruly hair is adorable. he knows that it can sometimes make you feel a little self-conscious, worrying that you don't look presentable with your hair a mess and finding yourself becoming frustrated with it because of how long you spend trying to style it in the morning, but he loves the way it sets you apart from everyone else. he might occasionally tease you about it, but it's always intended to be lighthearted and he never means anything by it. likes to ruffle your hair for his own amusement, making it even messier than it is already and enjoying the way you pout at him and try to smooth it down.

⤷ kuroo, tsukishima, matsukawa, yaku, akaashi, daishou, hoshiumi

⭑ beauty marks

he finds himself drawn to the pretty marks on your face, unable to take his eyes off you because you're so beautiful. whenever he goes to kiss you he always starts off by letting his lips trail over the points of your face where your marks reside, before softly pressing them against your own. he loves how unique they make you look, and he thinks they compliment your features perfectly. it makes him so sad when he sees you trying to cover them up with makeup, and the fact that you don't see them the way he does genuinely hurts him. he loves the idea that your beauty marks are where your lover kissed you the most during your past life, and he likes to kiss them in hopes that he'll be leaving those marks on you in your next life too.

⤷ sugawara, kai, oikawa, tanaka, konoha, kita, hirugami, asahi

⭑ cellulite

he loves to randomly grab your thighs at any chance he gets, enjoying the way the supple flesh feels under his palms. he thinks you look amazing in thigh high socks and cute little skirts, and whenever he sees the small amount of pudge at the top of your socks he'll definitely have a hard time keeping his hands to himself. to be honest he probably didn't even realise you had cellulite until you pointed it out to him, too preoccupied with how absolutely gorgeous you look to notice such a small detail. reminds you that it's completely normal and natural, and will reassure you that he thinks it's beautiful as many times as it takes until you start to believe him.

⤷ daichi, bokuto, yamamoto, kyotani, atsumu, nishinoya, meian

⭑ being thin

he honestly can't understand why you don't like your body, because in his eyes you're literally perfect. he knows that you tend to wear baggier clothing most of the time, the loose fabric swallowing up your figure and concealing the parts you dislike the most about yourself, but he would be lying if he said he didn't love those days when it's really hot outside and you opt for something that's a little more revealing than usual. he adores the way tighter clothes look on you, and the way they show off and accentuate your beautiful figure. he thinks you look so pretty and delicate, and the fact you're smaller than him makes him swoon.

⤷ kageyama, kenma, hanamaki, sakusa, yamaguchi, goshiki, kunimi

⤷ please do not repost my works on any other sites!

[ghostarii]

CAN’T TAKE MY EYES OFF YOU ! ～ JING YUAN . ❛ i want your bliss on bliss; a little company!

˖ ⁺ ⫾  CONTENT WARNING fem!reader ❱ golf dad!jing yuan ❱ dilf!jing yuan ❱ groping ❱ praise ❱ breeding kink ❱ size kink ❱ perv!jing yuan ❱ PWP!!!!! ❱ age gap ❱ cunnilingus ❱ multiple orgasms ❱ pussy drunk!jing yuan ❱ locker room sex ❱ jy’s kinda gross ❱ coercion ❱ creampie & unprotected sex (pls stay safe) ❱ pet names (mostly pretty [girl] & little one ❱ dubious consent ❱ dirty talk ❱ not proofread in the slightest ❱ minors and dc antis do not interact.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  TIP i’ve had this idea floating around in my wee wittle brain for quite some time so here’s perv golf dilf jing yuan ! ! i didnt rlly have a plot for this nor an idea on how to execute the vibe in my mind so truly i apologize if this is not that good :’( this got way messier than intended n i took forever writing it cause i kept getting stuck. i rlly rushed this toward the end cause i rlly wanted to post it so i rlly hope u guys like it 😿 rbs n feedback is always greatly appreciated <33 (pls don’t report i worked rlly hard on this n comm guidelines r so mean)

˖ ⁺ ⫾  GB 7.2k+ words .

JING YUAN CAN’T help it. He doesn't know what drives him to do it; to stare at you until holes are burned in you or touch you carelessly or talk about you like you're a piece of meat, he can't help it. It's akin to a primal urge, or manly instinct that makes him defile you disgustingly and unapologetically—and it makes him feel like a gross teen boy whose dick grows hard at the simple mention of women, but it's something about this aura of naivety and peace that swarms you that brings this carnal desire out of him. You’re the perfect prey, helpless, unsuspecting, and trusting of the ill-intended, hungry predator. Everything makes his heart flutter and his stomach gnarl—he turns into a different man because of you.

Friendly, neighborhood, retired Army General and current Xianzhou Police Chief Jing Yuan was a mask to cover perverse, snobby, and icky pervert Jing Yuan; the one who got a kick at making you do silly tasks so he can stare up your skirt and who always told you to take a seat so he can press up on you and grope you indistinctly. He sees you and immediately a deviant fire is kindled in his chest, his cheeks heat up and his skin runs cold. It's nasty, but he can't help it.

He needs you selfishly. He can't stand to watch you talk to other men and tend to their needs—sure, it's your job to pour them lemonade and escort them to the spa and guide them around the country club for a look at all the activities, and he respects that you're a hard and diligent worker, but seeing you with other men boils his blood. It's as if the lines between reality and his fucked up fantasy world have blurred, and you belong to him, you're his woman and he stakes his claim on you like a wild animal. Jing Yuan likes how you don't question how he suddenly needs your assistance, and that it's impossible for anyone but you to do it, because it lets these other men know that you respond to him. He's never felt this way about a woman before, not even the mother of his own child, so it means you're special. You mean much deeper to him than you could ever understand and all he wants is your company and to love you down into the cage of his heart.

It's not a crime to have a crush. It's not a crime to be in love with a woman you barely know. And it's not a crime to imagine her stuffed with your kids after watching her interact with yours. A crime? No. Weird? Maybe; but Jing Yuan does it anyway.

On the occasion when he brings Yanqing to the club, he gets on his best behavior. They play friendly games of golf and lounge about in the garden area, and eat up a storm in the illustrious dining hall—normal father-and-son things. Nothing out of the ordinary, people wouldn't even know that all Jing Yuan could think about was you and how sweet your pussy must taste as he eats ice cream with his son. He stays on his best outward behavior, truly—you wouldn't have even known he was in the bathroom jerking off because something about you today set him off.

He walks into the dining hall, looking around to see you. Yanqing had run off to the pool ages ago, so Jing Yuan had some time to himself…or, rather, time for you and him. He thought about how he would take you and claim you for far too long now. He thinks about it too much, actually. And that’s insane; considering the fact that you only started working at Stargazer Navalia Country Club two months ago.

He goes to his usual spot: against the wall on the northeastern side of the hall. It's slightly tucked away, the ceiling lights on that side are dim and the roaming eyes of others are limited. It's perfect for him when he touches you and even more perfect to convince you to have a seat and chat with him. You always listen, always fall for his lonely old man act, even though you've seen him with his snob friends Luocha and Dan Feng, and he's more than well-known around the community—he’s far from lonely, but his lips utter such pitiful deception that you can't help but spare him some of your company.

Jing Yuan has been doing this for a few weeks. He’ll invite you over for a refill of the house's special lemonade, sipping the juice as soon as you finish pouring, letting his lips smack obnoxiously, his tongue running across his top lip, and muttering out an “Ahh, so sweet…”, keeping eye-contact with you. His plump, rosy lips will break into a smile at your widened eyes and flustered expression, and that's when he asks you to stay. “Wouldn’t you give me a moment of your time? C’mon…call it…customer service.”

Usually, he’ll sit across from you and ask about your day. He’ll listen to your short spiels about your coworkers or your university and even your extremely personal information about your family and friends. It's cute how you open up with abandon, and he likes how apologetic you get when you feel like you’ve spoken too much. He’ll reach across the table and tap your pouted lips, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Keep going,” and he stares at your lips as you talk his ear off. But today—today, Jing Yuan is pushing the limits.

He invited you over, and instead of you sitting across from him, he pulls the chair next to him. Your proximity is close, no closer than ever before, but close enough that you feel like he can hear your heartbeat. He drapes a buff arm around the back of your chair, the pads of his fingers just barely ghosting over your biceps. He takes a deep breath, presumably to settle into his seat but actually to breathe you in. You smell sweet. He wonders if you taste sweet.

“How was your day?” the man starts. It's okay, it's fine, it’s just Jing Yuan—he’s fine! You nod your head, “Okay…not too eventful but um…kind of busy.” He immediately replies “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

Your shift started at eleven o'clock this morning, and you clocked in slightly late earning your managers, Ms. Yukong, mouthful of scolding. “Again? This is the third time in a row…” She was a strict woman. Yukong was adamant about running an establishment—not a job. In her mind, there's a distinct difference, a fine line that separates Stargazer Navalia Country Club from other leisure resorts, and that line was drawn by poise, professionalism, and punctuation—the three Ps. You essentially lacked all of that. You’re always late, and if you’re not late, you’re just barely making it, you run around a lot and don't collect yourself. Oftentimes, you take on too much than you can handle and overwhelm yourself, making a fool of yourself before the very opinionated eyes of the patrons. And you were clumsy. The country club was your first service job and your first job ever. You wouldn't have gotten the job if your parents didn’t force independence upon you and you complained to your friend, Tingyun, about your unfair predicament, and she promised to put in a good word for you to her boss. That good word was a basket full of fabrications and exaggerations. Yukong told you that you were fortunate to be allowed to work at the club, but it was hanging in the balance if you didn’t step up your game.

Jing Yuan hadn’t expected a full rant, but he was glad that you felt like you could talk to him. He wants to hold you, tell you that Yukong is a miserable bitch and she doesn't know what the hell she's talking about. You can't do any wrong—that woman wouldn’t know poise, professionalism, and punctuation if it slapped her across the face, so who was she to criticize perfection?

He gets even more upset when your chest starts to heave and you’re blinking back tears, explaining how you cried after leaving Yukong’s office and felt so useless and stupid. And you made it your mission today to do your best. No overworking, no clumsiness, and no more strikes earned. Your head was on a dart board, and Yukong was aiming at the bullseye.

You told him you just wanted to be good. To be worth something because you aren't incompetent. If only you knew how he saw you.

Tears run down your warm cheeks and your frowned lips curve into a sad smile, a laugh escaping as you pat away tears from your eyes. “Sorry, I don’t mean to cry…”

“…I should be getting back to work…” You move to get up but Jing Yuan stops you, his big hand on your thigh. This isn't new, but your eyes meet and you almost burst into tears again. Your lips frown up again and quiver and your eyes gloss over—oh, you poor thing. He squeezes your thigh as if to tell you you’re okay, but when that doesn't seem to stop the tidal wave of tears from beating at the barrier of your blinking eyelids, he pulls you in.

It's a hug. You've hugged people before. You do it all the time. Even to him—you’ve hugged Jing Yuan before, but this? This is different. He cradles the back of your head as you rest your cheek on his shoulder and he kisses your hair softly. He’s warm, like the summer heat, and your body feels like it’s on fire. His fingers stroke at your hair as if he was trying to soothe your feelings, and it works, you sniffle and softly whimper, curling your fingers against his thighs. He's taking care of you and if only you could understand what you’re doing to him. His cock is slowly growing stiffer and heat lights beneath his skin as it does yours. You feel so weak and small in his hold and God, is it doing something to him. Your breathing brushes your tits against his side and he wants to feel them pressed against his chest as he pounds into you. Your sniffles and tears that form small puddles on his shirt make him think about how you would cry from overstimulation and his big cock stretching you out.

He needs to get a grip. To stop his gross thoughts but it's no use when your entire existence is an aphrodisiac to him. It was a short hug, no longer than a minute, but it felt like it lasted a lifetime. When you pull away, Jing Yuan can't look at you. He can't look at your flushed cheeks, glossy eyes, clumped lashes, and pouted lips—he can’t look because he won’t be able to contain himself. You clear your throat and sit up, wiping your eyes and smudging your cheap mascara. He’s slightly upset that you’re leaving already, so before you go, he pinches the hem of your shirt, pulling you back.

“It's gonna be okay, little one. Have a good day.” He pats your head and smiles at you. You get flustered and quickly nod, running off as if to disappear.

You find it hard to have a good day when you’re wrapped up in your head, thinking about Yukong, yourself, and Mr. Jing Yuan. He was a nice man, sometimes too nice and you were unsure if that was a negative or a positive.

His touches feel like they’re burned into your skin. When you think about his tight, warm, and world-erasing hug, your skin tingles and births goosebumps to the surface. When you think about his deep, reverberating voice praising you and denying the existence of imperfection in you, you run hot. It’s a dangerous juxtaposition that left you an unfocused mess, productivity being the last thing of your concern. How bothered your body felt was in big bold letters in your brain, and it was hard to not prove Yukong’s harsh words about you right. You needed to get it together, but it was hard when Jing Yuan lingered in your mind like a deadly plague.

You catch Tingyun up during your dishes duty, scrubbing the dirtied plates, bowls, spoons, and forks and passing them to the girl to be dried. She laughs at you, shaking her head as she spins her hand around the inside of the porcelain bowl. “Can I be honest with you?” You nod at Tingyun’s question, “his intentions are less than pure. He’s nice and all but I think you should create boundaries. I don't like how every time you tell me about him he's grabbing on you and stuff…”

You have an issue with seeing the best in people. You can’t see anybody as evil—their actions don’t define their character in your mind and that's a fatal flaw. You shake your head at Tingyun’s words, smiling, “I don’t agree. He’s just…I don’t know.” you shut the water off, and set down the plate in your hand. “I think he’s just lonely—”

“—He has friends. His golfing buds…?” She points out. You sigh and shake your head. “Yeah, but they don't come to the club often.”

Tingyun rolls her eyes. “Can you be for real? What company can you provide to a man who’s nearly double your age?”

On that front, Tingyun had a point. You’re still in college, barely coasting your way through your third year and Jing Yuan is in his mid-to-late thirties, pushing forty. He was a dad and you were a student. He lived his life—he’s on his second career, and you’ve only just barely begun working your first job. You never knew what to talk to him about and you never understood what he talked about. There was a disconnect, but you felt like that didn't impede the slight friendship you had. “He just needs someone to talk to!”

“Didn't know talking included his hands on your ass but okay.” Her snide remark makes you frown. He wasn’t all that bad. Tingyun didn't get it.

Her eyes immediately meet yours and she softens. “Sorry.” You nod to her apology, cutting the tap back on and resuming your work. You didn't like to be judgemental and you wanted to give Jing Yuan the benefit of the doubt. He wasn’t all that bad and you liked him—for the most part. She pats your shoulder softly. She does mean well. “Just be safe, okay?”

“You never know what’s going on in someone's head.”

It’s so hot. The weather forecast called for unbearable heat and ungodly levels of humidity. The sun was angry at the world, shining down harshly and roasting your skin. Surprisingly, the club had seen the most members today. It was filled to the brim, bustling and condensing heat at every corner that you couldn’t escape.

Your uniform was dripping in sweat and it was sticking to your skin. Your hair, pulled away from your face, felt like it was dripping onto your shoulders. You were hot. And luckily for you, Qingque had taken off from work today due to the heat, leaving her shift open. You swooped in and took the role, slipping off your uniform when the clock hit 2:30 and sliding into the lifeguard swimsuit. It was tight fitting but comfortable and paired with the visor blocking the mean sun from your face, you felt fine.

Lathering a security layer of sunscreen onto your skin, you make your way to the pool, reciting Yukong’s words in your head. You had met with her at the beginning of your shift where she told you this was your last chance. Lifeguarding wasn’t some fun easy-money task. Screwing around the way you usually do could be at the cost of someone’s life and she wouldn’t put anyone at risk. At all. So you go with your head up and a warm smile, climbing up and sitting down with a hawk eye on the pool.

The water was clear blue and rippling. Bare flesh and bright swimsuits are blurred and hazy under the surface of the water. It’s a nostalgic scene, sweet chatter and giggles from the playing children, splashing water, and pattering wet feet on the hot pavement work together to induce peace upon you. This is a scene you could get used to, especially when Jing Yuan emerges from the water.

He looks divine. His upper body is exposed, large muscles flexed as he lifts his body weight from beneath the water, resting on the edge of the pool. His water-darkened hair slumps heavily in his ponytail, flipping over as he shakes his head, ridding of the water. And the water spills down his skin deliciously, thick droplets pathing down his body. It’s a sight to behold and you can't help but stare.

Jing Yuan wonders if this is how you feel. Ogled and objectified down to the bone. Your shade-hidden eyes bore into him when they should be watching the children. But he likes it. He feels like today is going to be a good day.

He comes to the pool often, usually just watching Yanqing show him his “tricks”, but he notices the order. The lifeguards cycle every forty-five minutes. He noticed it the first time when one of them took off immediately after jumping in after a panicking Yanqing, but today it was going to come to his aid. Today was the day. He’d waited too long, thought about it too hard…Jing Yuan’s fantasy world was going to pour into reality. That in itself was a terrible horror.

He waits patiently for forty-five minutes. Splashing water with his son occasionally, stepping out of the pool for a rest, or waving at you as he floats atop the water. Forty-five minutes. Tick tock.

He stops you on your way inside. His towel was thrown over his shoulder and his wet hair slung up into his fixed ponytail. You’re so enthralled by his state that you aren't taking into consideration the lazily fabricated lie that he needed your urgent attention to. You were no dummy. Jing Yuan is an overly attractive man, but he was out of your league and the father to a boy only seven years younger than you. Your lives were incompatible and frankly, he wasn't what you were looking for. Attractive? Yes. Boyfriend material? Not so much.

Regardless, you follow him to the locker room to look for his supposed missing watch. You ask him where his locker is located and he points around the corner, “125D.” His locker is tucked off around the corner, deep in the row and far from anyone’s initial line of sight. You see his golf bag resting against the wall and Yanqing’s goggles on the bench and make your way to it, “Where did you last have the watch?”

This was way out of your jurisdiction, and, besides, he was the police chief—what the hell could you do to help him find a missing watch? Nonetheless, you listen intently as he provides the details: he took it off to go swimming, placed it on the shelf in the locker, and came back to find it missing. You nod slowly, diligently looking through the slim locker. There’s not much in it and not much space a watch could slip through, so you’re confused. It's clearly not here. “I don't think I can be much help for you, you’re better off checking with whoever was in here last.”

And then his body is close to you. Your proximity thickens with the chlorine and sandalwood scent he carries, and his broad form towers over you. Your breath hitches and your body tenses as a large hand lays against the back of your thigh, running up your bare skin until it meets the curve of your ass. He doesn't say anything. Neither do you. You feel like you’re frozen, stuck beneath him, and that only urges him further.

His other arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you in, resting his chin on your shoulder and breathing you in with a deep breath. You can feel his exhale on your neck and you shudder, pushing away to create distance. Jing Yuan only tightens his big grip on you, “I want you…” he murmurs, leaning into your neck. His lips ghost over your skin and you squirm, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. This can't be happening. Not here. Not now.

You try to tell him that but it's futile. He presses his slightly chapped lips against your neck in fluttery kisses, wrapping his lips around nips of skin every now and then and leading a path to your collarbone. He steals a look at you from the side, “Tell me you don't want this and I'll stop.”

He now frames your body beneath his, pressing you against the cold lockers. You wince at the harshness of how he handles you—how his hands incessantly run up and down your body and gropes your assets and how he grinds his dick against your ass. He breathes heavily against you, grunting and growling in your ear as he edges himself closer and closer to the brink of losing control.

You try to speak up. To tell him you can't do this and that here is not the place. But you part your lips to object, only for a whimper to escape in its place. You’re shaking your head no but it opposes the sounds that leave you and the subconscious grind back of your hips. Jing Yuan uses his right hand to cup your pussy with a hardened gaze watching your reaction: your eyes widen and then squeeze shut, and you roll your lips inward, pressing them shut. He feels a slight throb when he presses his fingers against your sex, and the heat that radiates from you is all telling. “Stop fighting it…don’t deny it…you need me to take care of you.”

Kisses on your neck resume as he rubs your clothed clit, using the way your knees buckle as leverage to slightly bend your over, grinding into you rougher. “Can't you feel how hard you make me, baby? Fuck,” he whispers, his grinding now turning into desperate rutting. “Indulge me, just a little…say yes…”

You’re shaking your head no, fighting his words. You think that if you close your eyes hard enough you’ll wake up in the real world and this will have all just been in your head. The sight of the lockers in front of you dispels that thought instantly. You fight against your own body, swallowing down the sounds of pleasure that rumble in you at his touch. You promised Yukong you would do a better job. You liked working here. If she found out you had sex with a customer during work hours in the public locker room, she’d have your head on stake. But God, he knew what he was doing. It’s like Jing Yuan knows how to get into your head. All of his innuendos day in and day out, his flirtatious banter, and his wandering eyes the past few months have been test runs on you that he’s conducted for his fucked up memory log. So he could prepare for this moment. So he knew how to make you weak and make you succumb to his advances. You were a nice girl with a hard time saying no. You always indulged his requests and always did what was told to you. His constant “Say yes, baby. Say it. You know you want this,” in your ear was persuasive enough for your weak resolve. Soon enough, you’re quietly parroting his words.

“Y-yes…I…I want it,” you huff out, and he stops.

Jing Yuan lets you go—pulling off of you and spinning you around. Then, he’s swiftly pushing you against the lockers, caging you in with his big arms on either side of you. His golden eyes are richer, darkened with fantasy and lust as they bore into yours. His rosy lips curve into a sinister smirk, “Look me in my eyes and say you want me to fuck you.”

Your eyes meet, locking with each other softly. You’re telling yourself in your head that you can say no, but your mouth moves first, “I want you…to…” you grow shy at the words, and Jing Yuan smiles at you. He steps closer, grabbing your chin softly and your waist with his free hand, pulling you in. “Sweet girl…” he mumbles, brushing his lips against yours and bumping your noses.

Your kiss is sweet. It's the type of fairytale kiss, the type of wonderful kiss that whips the air out of you and has fireworks blowing in your pretty little head. Your lips mold and work together, and he takes his time getting acquainted with your mouth. He waits until you part your lips on your own to invade your mouth, and even then, he tenderly explores the cavern. He kisses you with dominance and experience. He kisses you with passion and desire. He kisses you like he’s in love with you.

You wrap your hands around his neck, pulling him into you, chasing his kiss as if he was trying to leave you. It begins to heat up. Impatience grows like mold between the two of you, you begin to want and need each other more. His hand gripping your chin wraps briefly around your neck to pull you closer, and his hand around your waist moves to your ass, cupping a cheek in his palm and roughly squeezing. He sucks on your tongue, moaning deeply into your mouth. Teeth start to clash and tongues start to bump and spin, spit dribbling out of your mouths. He bites onto your bottom lip as he pulls away, and then catches the drool running down your face with his tongue, running back up on its path to your mouth. With your saliva on his tongue, he kisses you harshly one last time—a kiss that makes you lean your head against the lockers behind you, giving him access to the expanse of your neck.

He admires the hickeys he already left, kissing them tenderly before leaving a few more. His teeth drag on your neck, and he's pulling the straps of your swimsuit down your arms. It's agonizingly slow and you look away, not able to face him as he unveils your body to him.

It's like a dream. Even better than. All of his fantasies and perverted thoughts haven't done any justice to how you look—the most perfect, pretty boobs with hard nipples that are begging to be played with, the most gorgeous frame that pops even more without your clothes, your dips and curves begging to be filled by his grip, and your pretty pussy, which he takes his time getting to and unveiling. He gets on his knees, kisses your soft thighs, and slowly pulls your swimsuit down to your ankles. You try to hide, feeling vulnerable and anxious in your fully naked state but he pulls your legs apart, kissing the inside of your thigh. “You’re beautiful…”

“Prettiest thing I've ever seen…” he says, trailing up your legs. He doesn't give you time to fall into your mind. He exhales deeply, letting the air from his nose blow against your pussy. You squirm but he pulls your legs apart again, looking up at you as he places a chaste kiss on your slit.

You’re already wet, susceptible to his touch, and fragile. You slightly leak past your labia and his lips shine in your slick. Eye contact remains as he licks your arousal off his lips, swallowing your taste with a satisfied hum. “So sweet, too. Better than I ever imagined.”

Something about his admission flusters you. You knew he enjoyed your company, but you didn't know he put thought into you this way. It flatters you, to say the least, and your body responds in a very telling way: your clit throbbing and hole clenching in need.

Jing Yuan smiles at how you can't hold eye contact with him and how you look down at him with urging eyes. Your body gives him the okay your mouth fails to do, and he dives in, wedging his tongue between your folds to lick a thick stripe. You gasp loudly and slam your palm against the locker behind you, seemingly caught off guard by his action. And then he does it again. This time, making his way to your clit slowly, only to circle around the bud but not pay it any attention. And again, this time only lightly flicking your clit with his tongue and ghosting over it but ultimately focusing on collecting your sweet juices, slurping it down with an obnoxious volume.

Your position is fixed—you’re stuck. Your legs are draped over his shoulders as you basically sit on his face, and he holds you tightly by your soft thighs. Your gaze is filed unto each other, unmoving, and he watches with glee at how you react when he finally gives your clit attention. He wraps his lips around the bud, sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. You practically burst into tears. You moan out, immediately threading your fingers in his white locks. “Oh, fuck,”

He abuses your clit until your voice goes hoarse. He doesn't care that people could probably hear you. He wants them to. He wants them to hear his name flow from your mouth like syrup out of a maple tree—thick in lust and fatally sweet. Your moans sound even prettier in reality. Jing Yuan has come to the conclusion that you are one of a kind. No wild or active imagination could do you justice. He could eat you out for days—you’re just so sweet and so easy to please. Your clit getting sucked on sets you off and when he runs his thick tongue through your sloppy folds to collect your stream of arousal, you whine even louder, competing with his slurping and licking noises.

“I want you to cum on my tongue, pretty girl,” he says, pulling away from your folds. “Wanna taste all of you,” and he presses a kiss to your clit. You suck your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding rapidly, “Please! Wanna cum so bad…”

He’s determined now. Like a man starved, he practically feasts on you. His tongue is everywhere—licking and swirling from every direction and it drives you insane. You can feel the burning tension in your gut churn and to egg its release out of you, you toy with your nipples, resting your head against the lockers as ecstasy overcomes you. You whine and whimper out meek little “Yes!”’s and “Oh, God!”’s like those are the only words you know, feeling your orgasm so close that it heats your skin to the touch.

Your back arches and eyes blow wide, your body fighting against itself. You trap his head between your thighs but push his head away, damn near screaming at the top of your lungs that it's too much and you can't take it. This pushes Jing Yuan to do more, to tighten his hold on your thighs and suffocate himself in your pussy. Knock the tip of his nose against your puffy clit and probe your clenching hole with his tongue. His jaw hurts but he keeps it up well, humming and moaning endlessly to send warm vibrations through your skin. His name breaks off of your tongue so weakly and your head feels light. It's like something in you snaps, like all composure and decency melts off of you in an instant. You could care less about Yukong or anybody else for that matter. This entire room could cease to exist and it wouldn't matter because Jing Yuan has blasted you off to cloud nine. The feeling of his tongue swimming through your folds is pleasure in its purest form and it pushes you to the deep end, drowning you in overwhelming ecstasy.

The grip you have on his hair tightens and you pull the long locks as if it’d stabilize you from the wreckage your pending orgasm was bringing upon you. A silent moan falls from your lips, followed by an airy plea, “J-Jing Yuan, please..!” Your voice falters and falls into another broken moan. Your back arches yet again and your hips buck into his face, and there it is. That tight band in your stomach snaps and your orgasm wracks through you roughly. Your thighs shake and your chest heaves heavily—you feel like you can't breathe. And he doesn't let up, wrapping his lips around your sensitive clit for the harshest suck of the night, humming happily as you squirm and spasm in his hold.

You come undone, dripping down his face like a rushing waterfall. He cleans you up with his tongue, continuing to help you come down from your high even as you whimper and sniffle from overstimulation. With peppery kisses, he pulls away from your pussy, licking his lips clean and rolling his eyes at your taste. “You did so good for me, baby.”

A carnal glint shines in his eye as he takes your waist in his hands, pulling you into him for a kiss. Your lips connect with fervor. He immediately establishes dominance, invading your mouth with hunger and greed. Your teeth clash and knock and your tongue is bullied by his. Your taste on his mouth is strong and it's hard to ignore it, and on him, it tastes wonderful. Your legs are jelly, useless. He holds you up with his hands but ultimately decides to press you against the lockers once again, grinding his painfully aching hard-on onto your thigh. No. This can't happen. The longer you're in the locker room with him, the more risk that's run. People are going to start leaving the club soon, and you don't know what you’d do if they caught you like this.

You try to push him away but he only presses into you more, rutting against you more desperately and aggressively. You gave him an inch, and now he's going to take a mile.

He growls against your lips before pulling away, resting his forehead on yours. “Gotta have you, baby,” he starts, pulling down his swim trunks. His hard cock jumps out, leaking and hard and so thick it makes your eyes bulge out of your head. You can't do this. You open your mouth to protest but he just kisses you again, shutting you down instantly. He takes your hand in his, bringing it down to his dick, and forces you to hold his girth in your hand. He's heavy and hard. Two prominent veins bulge and throb and his angry tip spills milky beads of precum into a pool in his slit. He makes you jerk him off, groaning into your mouth deeply, “Fuck. Need you so bad, little one. Need your sweet little pussy wrapped around me, need to feel you, to fill you—oh, fuck. Let me? Give me that, please.”

He practically begs you. He ruts into your hand and speaks into your mouth like a bitch in heat—you’re finding it hard to deny him. And he keeps begging. Keeps nipping at your lips and swiping your jaw now and then with his tongue. He's desperate. And you feel like you have no choice. “…Okay.”

Jing Yuan doesn't notice the uncertainty in your tone. He nearly jumps for joy, kissing you so passionately and hooking his hands on your ass, hoisting you up into the air. You squeal and he laughs, kissing you again as he properly positions his tip at your entrance. “Been thinking about this since I first laid eyes on you,”

As he starts talking, he slowly slides you down on his length. You gasp and wince—he’s so fucking big. Your nails immediately dig into his shoulders and you try to brace yourself, but good God, it’s like he’s splitting your body into two. He slowly sinks in, kissing your cheeks and mumbling praises that don't do much to ease the burn of the stretch. You almost want to stop, but he's like a brick wall. Impossible to get through.

“You’re so tight…” He feels like he’s breaking you in. Like you’re untouched and not prepared to take him and it sets him off. Your whimpers are sweet and the way you hug him like you're scared to let go ignites that all-too-familiar carnal flame. He wants to ravage you. It takes a few moments but he finally bottoms out with a deep groan. “So tight…so wet…fuck, it's like you’re made for me.” He does an experimental thrust and his heart swells at how you moan into his ear and clench around him tighter. “Taking me so well,”

This starts a rhythm of slow thrusts, the two of your bodies getting to know each other. Jing Yuan is so big and he feels even bigger inside of you. Your cunt feels like it's being reformed in its shape, stretching around him widely to accommodate every bit of him. And your pussy around him was so worth the wait. Your gummy walls welcome him with a tight, warm hug, and you leak down his length unabashedly. The combination of your arousal and his slow thrusts get you two acquainted quickly, and he steadily starts to pick up the pace.

Jing Yuan has shortly found his rhythm. He thrusts up into you while simultaneously maneuvering your hips down and you’ve never felt anything like this before. He pounds you. Hard. Rough. And slowly gains speed. His heavy balls slap at your ass and your puffy clit kisses his pelvis and it all makes you weak. You bury your head into his neck and pull him closer to you, feeling enveloped in his strong hold. How he's easily able to hold you up and fuck you the way is he makes your stomach churn and knot. There's a rhythmic slapping that coordinates with his grunts and your cries and it's so loud and lewd, you’re sure the whole country club knows what you're doing. But it doesn't bother you. Because yet again, Jing Yuan works your body like an expert, plunging into your depths so well that you can't do anything but clench and drip around him like a broken faucet.

His hands are on your ass, squeezing and slapping your cheeks to make you squeal out, practically yelling his name for the masses. It all feels too good. He knows what he's doing—how to angle his hips and find your G-spot almost instantly and abuse it until you feel like your brain has melted into mush, how to mix the pain of his calloused hands slapping your ass sweetly with the pleasure he bestows upon you, how to sweet-talk into your ear and flatter you so well that butterflies are born in your tummy and your hole clenches even tighter around him. He's experienced. He's taking your body on a trip it's sure to never forget and never replicate, and you wish you knew how he did it, because he’s only been thrusting into you for a few minutes and you feel like you're about to explode.

He's now pounding into you more furiously, and you chalk that up to his orgasm approaching him as well. “I'm gonna cum again—!” you announce, voice low in a broken whisper. His thrusts get sloppy and he grunts to concur, “Me too—look at me,”

Your eyes meet and this might be the rawest moment you've ever had with Jing Yuan. There's nothing but passion and adoration in his golden eyes as he looks at you. And as he kisses you for the nth time this evening, it's soft. Kind. A complete one-eighty from how desperately and angrily he bullies his thick cock into your drooling cunt. “Cum with me.” It's more of a demand than a request, but you nod in understanding anyway. You want to feel him throb and empty out his balls inside you. You want to hear his voice crack and break as he moans out your praises. You want to feel him give it to you until he can't anymore.

He snaps his hips into you, hard and one at a time. He goes as deep as possible, making your eyes blow wide and spill tears. He's so deep in your stomach it's almost like he pops the bubble of your orgasm himself, and you're spilling all over him in a matter of seconds. It was unexpected and you drawl out a whiny moan, grinding your hips back onto him subconsciously. Your orgasm makes him follow suit, and soon enough, you're filled to the brim with his semen. Warm ropes mix nastily with your own release and it drips out of your hole as he continues to thrust through your orgasms.

“Oh shit…’s good, little one.” He kisses your cheek and carries you to the bench, laying you down. “One more for me, ‘kay?”

Your mind is lagging behind. You didn't even catch his statement until he was sliding into you again, pressing your hands against your stomach to feel him inside of you. “So deep…”

“Yeah? Feels good, doesn't it?” He wastes no time, not sparing a second to waste. You're still so sensitive, and so is he, and everything is so sloppy. So messy. Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he finds your sweet spot again, and fuck, it feels so good. “‘M not gonna last…”

Jing Yuan basically crushes you against the hard bench, closing the proximity between you two and harboring the flame between your chests. His head in the crook of your neck shakes, “Me neither. Want you to keep it all in.” His pathetic rutting elicits the wettest sounds from your pussy, and the empty locker room echoes it around with bass. He runs on and on about stuffing you full, fucking his kids into you and you don't know what at what point that started to sound good to you. Your belly rumbled in that all-too-familiar wait, your orgasm wasted no time in building.

Your eyes start to tear even harder and white blotches soon cover your whole line of sight—but not before Jing Yuan stills inside of you, dumping his second load inside of you with a guttural groan and clench of his abdomen. He rubs rough circles on your clit, murmuring about how you can do it until you clench around him, squirming beneath him as your orgasm hits you again. He doesn't pull out. He keeps you plugged up with his cock, forbidding his cum from leaving you. You didn't expect this to happen. Ever. But Jing Yuan? He always knew. It was just a matter of when.

So when your sight returns and you open your eyes to see him leaning over you, you smile happily. It was almost like you're Cinderella and he's Prince Charming, coming to rescue you from your hellish job in the most unconventional way possible. But unconventional feels good.

He won. No matter what he had to do, he won. His fantasy came to fruition and he would rather nothing else. This moment will be forever cherished, even if the distant opening of the door sounds off, and footsteps rapidly approaching bring you back to reality. He won. And nothing, or nobody, can change that. You’re all his now.

[neowinestainedress]

hi, is it okay to request mark breeding kink later if you have a free time? its up to you to make it as drabble or full fic. like both of them are ready to settle down and he intends to speed things up. he even tracks her ovulation period to make love intensely in that week and won't stop until her pussy ruined. another new day would start with her swollen pussy. thank you!

w!: unprotected sex (ofc), breeding kink, pregnancy talks, implied overstimulation

a/n: this turned out pretty soft and romantic overall, hope you like it!

You’re not surprised that trying for a baby meant to fuck a lot, but surely when you and Mark talked about it, you wouldn’t have expected him to be constantly over you. 

Truth be told, it shouldn’t be shocking, you know him for too long to act unaware of 1) his breeding kink and 2) his want to be a father. So it’s only obvious that as soon as you both felt ready for this big step, he’s not letting any opportunity go to waste. 

“Mark,” you chuckle when you feel his arms wrap around you, pushing you back into his chest while he presses his lower half against your ass. “Come on,” you giggle, turning your face back, squirming a bit at the ticklish sensation of his lips on your neck. 

“What? You’re ovulating,” he whispers against your ear. 

“Yeah, I don’t need you to tell me that,” you joke, rolling your eyes back. “Wait, are you keeping track of it?” 

Your boyfriend shrugs, kissing the corner of your lips. “I might, is that a crime?” 

You shake your head while chuckling, “No, but damn, you really want that baby.” You turn around, letting him push you against the countertop in the kitchen, biting your lips when you look down, his half-hard boner pressing into you. 

“Wasn’t it already clear enough?” 

“You surprise me a bit more every day,” you say, caressing his cheek and pulling him into a kiss. Mark doesn’t pull away from it when he lifts you up in his arms and walks swiftly to the bedroom, closing the door behind with a kick of his feet before he lays you on the bed. 

That was when you realized how truly deep into it Mark was, and to be honest, it just turned you on even more. There was something new about him and all of this that made your brain spin. Mark had never been so feral and needy. 

“Mark,” you breathe out weakly, back arching off the bed as he keeps fucking into you. “Too fucking much,” you mutter, eyes rolled back in pure bliss, and whole body trembling. 

“No, pretty, just once more. Gotta pump you full of cum, don’t you want that?” 

You nod weakly. “Yeah, want that, but, please,” you cry out, feeling the known sensation build up inside again.  

“Please, what? Only fucked you twice today,” Mark whispers as he quickly moves you so he can fuck deeper into you, your legs pressing flat against your chest while his body applies pressure on you, almost bending you in half. “I’m sure you can take more.” 

You whimper, nodding quickly as you feel another orgasm approach, but not quite sure of what Mark has in mind, you try to keep it in. It’s true that it’s ‘only’ your second orgasm but you two have been fucking like rabbits for a week now, and pretty much with only one goal in mind, so every fuck lead to at least three orgasms because he needed to be sure you were full of cum. 

His thrusts are fast, desperate even, and his moans are louder than usual. You have no idea how long it lasts, and only when his movements start to get messier, you realize that he’s close too. 

“Want my baby? Yeah, you’d look so pretty carrying my baby around, love. I just know.” 

You nod quickly, trying to open your eyes to meet his, melting on the spot when you do and see him look down at you with so much love and lust. “Please, Mark, please, breed me,” you beg, voice high. 

A soft smile curls his lips as he leans closer to kiss you, pushing your legs further down to fuck deeper into you. “You’ll make the best mom ever.” 

You feel like you’re overflowing when he comes inside you for the third time, lewd sounds of cum squelching out of you making your head spin as your orgasm ripples through your body, pussy squeezing hard around him until he can hardly move in and out of you. 

“Gotta make sure you keep it all in,” Mark groans, pumping into you another time before stilling inside your swollen pussy, keeping your hips up. “You okay?” Mark asks, still inside you, as he gently caresses your forehead. 

“Tired,” you smile weakly before sleep takes over you.  

You’re woken up in the morning by Mark’s dick rubbing between your thighs while his hand gently caresses your boobs and his lips leave gentle kisses on the back of your neck. 

“Mark?” You whisper, trying to shake off your sleep and turn around to see him. 

“Morning, babe,” he says, kissing your face, and moving his hips against you. “Can I fuck you or are you too sore?” 

You chuckle, shaking your head before humming. “I’m sore but I’m also horny, so why not. We gotta make the best of this, if our wish comes true, in a few months you won’t be able to have me this easily.” 

© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

[billiethepumpkin]

My Name: Dabi

Kinktober Day 2

Warning: Rated X. This content is intended for those aged 18 years or older. If you are a minor, please do not interact.

Contains: Alcohol/drunkenness. Minor injury. Grinding. Teasing. Hickeys. Nipple play. Fingering. Edging, both intentional and accidental. Vaginal sex. Unprotected sex. Creampie. Slightly aggressive sex. Birthdays. Feelings of self-hatred.

Author's Note: I know that Dabi is an adult, but I'm still an old fuck :)

Also, this is a repost! I wrote this a while, and I loved it. So here it is again.

It had been several days since you had been to Dabi’s apartment. He had asked you to get several things for him, seeing as he can’t be seen in public. He couldn’t put his freedom on the line, just for groceries. And you were happy to oblige, seeing as you’d be going to his house anyway at some point or another. You had been there dozens of times before, maybe even hundreds. It was dark. There was barely any furniture; just whatever Dabi could find in the dump at night, along with one singular small television that you managed to buy him for your most recent Christmas together.

When you got to his apartment, he cracked the door open slowly, carefully, until he saw that it was you. He was so drunk you could smell the alcohol as soon as the door to his apartment swung open. He was shirtless, his hair quite a bit messier than usual. If you hadn't been in love with him, you might've said he looked pathetic. You wondered how much he had drank, but the empty bottle of some sort of alcohol sitting on the coffee table was a dead giveaway. It was a surprise to you. Dabi knew you were coming over. You had this planned for a little over a week. You’d planned to bring him groceries right after you got your weekly paycheck, and that was today. “-ey there, pretty girl,” he slurred, leaning in the doorway for a moment. Worried, you pushed past him with your paper bags of groceries, almost completely ignoring his words.

As you put away the groceries, you take a minute to ponder. Why would he be like this? What had gotten into him? You knew Dabi was a drinker. After what hell he’s been through, he needed a vice, a coping mechanism. And you couldn’t argue that being drunk did help the pain sometimes. But why today, when he knew you’d be here?

Before Dabi had downed his second double shot of whiskey, he had been sulking. Sulking over the anniversary of his birth–today. He was reminiscing on the previous birthdays he had celebrated when he lived with the rest of his family. He remembered the way Natsuo always tried to make a big deal of it. But it never mattered. It never mattered because his father never even so much as glanced in Dabi’s direction–not even on his own son’s birthday. He never told anyone that his birthday was today. And even after almost a year of knowing each other, you still didn’t know Dabi’s birthday.

You put the groceries away, taking your time to organize them as best you could, before you turned to your boyfriend. He was leaning in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, his head leaning completely against the wall. When you turned to him, he was actually pouting. Yes, Dabi, the man who had survived years of domestic abuse, an entire forest fire, and dozens of missions with the League of Villains, was pouting.

You huffed a small laugh before stepping towards him, his back now against the wall, looking down at you. “What’s wrong?” you cooed up at him with a soft smile.

“You hav’n’t giv’n me ‘ny att’ntion,” he slurred. “Doesn’ y’r boyfr’nd deserve s’me love on ‘is birthday?” He let it slip.

And he really didn’t even mean to. He didn’t realize he even said it out loud until your eyes widened with worry, and you asked, “It’s your birthday?!” Before Dabi could even answer, your shoulders sank with sadness. “I’m so sorry,” you said. “I had no idea. How can I make it up to you? You know what? How about I make you dinner, hm?”

Dabi slowly, tiredly shook his head. “Don’ w’rry about it,” he whined, his eyes drooping and his hands resting on your hips.

“Come on,” you said. “You have to eat something. It’ll help you sober up. How about I order something?” Before Dabi could even think of a response, you were already calling the takeout place you had shown him on your first date and ordering his favorite food for him. Fuck, why did you have to be so… sweet? And caring? Dabi was trying to pretend it wasn’t his birthday. He didn’t need you going and ruining it.

He didn’t know what to say. You looked so sad, feeling like you had failed as a girlfriend, forgetting his birthday and trying to make it up to him. He couldn’t tell you yet. Dabi needed you to feel better first. Damn, how did he end up comforting you? Oh well, he thought. He couldn't be angry at you for just caring so much. Even if it was ruining his plans of sulking.

Dinner came, and you ate together, watching a TV show on your Netflix account. When your food containers were discarded on the table in front of you, he started to get dizzy from the alcohol, and he laid his head on your shoulder.

“Why’d y’ do all that?” he slurred, his eyes threatening to fall closed.

Your eyebrows angled in worry and guilt. “Well… I just wanted…” you began, “to make your birthday special. I forgot all about it, and I didn’t even get you anything–”

“Stop,” he said, waving his hand. “I’s not y’r fault. I didn’ tell you.”

“Oh,” you sighed. “Why not?” You treaded carefully. You worried that too many questions might cross some boundaries, that he might have done it on purpose.

“I’s not a big deal, m’kay?” he mumbled.

You looked at the floor instead of at him. You waited for some kind of real answer, but after several minutes, it was clear you weren’t going to get one. You prodded further. “It’s just that–”

“I’s none ‘f y’r bus’ness,” he groaned, his brows pinching together. He lifted his head, the room spinning slightly. He stood up, refusing to talk about anything. But as soon as he was lifted to his feet, he lost his balance, falling face-first into the corner of the coffee table. You gasped, and you crouched next to your boyfriend, a small cut just above his eyebrow.

“You okay?” you asked, seeing the cut and brushing the dyed dark hair out of the way. He didn’t say anything back. You offered him your hand, and he reluctantly took it, slowly standing up and moving to the couch. You went to his bathroom and found the first-aid kit–the one you forced him to keep in his apartment for times when one of you was being an idiot. You brought back an alcohol wipe and a bandage. You sat straddling one of his legs with the flashlight of your phone illuminating the space. Once he was all patched up, his eyes remained closed as his head rested on the couch cushions behind him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked in a whisper.

Dabi shook his head. “Jus’ don’ like my birthday,” he answered, looking down, his gaze refusing to meet yours. And suddenly it all clicked. He didn’t have to say anything else. You were being an idiot. Months ago, he told you all about his father, and you were just now putting all the pieces together. Dabi’s birthday was a not-so-gentle reminder of who he was supposed to be and who he was not. And for that he refused to forgive himself.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your hands resting on the space between his neck and his shoulders. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered, now gently lifting his chin so that his lips met yours. You kissed him over and over again, one turning into hundreds. The difference in feeling between his upper and lower lip was vast. The top was soft, smooth. The bottom would have felt chapped if you didn’t know any better. His rough hands, outlined with cold staples, slid under your dress and rested on your plush thighs. You inhaled sharply at the sensation of metal against your skin.

He pulled away, and you looked down at him with a longing in your eyes. “You okay?” he asked as your skin adjusted to him. You nodded, and you desperately pulled him back into your kiss. His hands ventured further up your legs, eventually coming to rest on your hips, where the lace waistband of your panties dipped into your flesh. Dabi’s fingers splayed against your skin, the different textures melting into your flesh and making you shiver. He fondled the waistband of your panties, making you involuntarily squirm against him. The friction of his clothed leg against you was enough to egg you on. You grinded your clothed sex against him one more time, and he grinned into your lips. His right hand trailed the outline of your panties against your thigh, and eventually rubbed his thumb against your clit on the outside of your underwear. You sighed into his lips, impatiently waiting for more, wondering what would be “too forward.”

You laced your fingers into his long black hair, gently caressing the back of his head. Dabi let his head fall back, leaving his neck open for you to take between your lips. You pulled away long enough for Dabi to pull his shirt over his head. Due to Dabi’s burns, his neck was much less sensitive than the rest of his body. He could barely even feel the contact your lips were making with his neck. You knew this. You moved to his chest, just below the staples, and Dabi sighed into your touch. He could barely even think straight. He had never remembered a time when someone treated him like you treated him, when someone was as thoughtful and as considerate as you. He could only sit back and watch as you gently sucked a piece of his flesh into your pretty mouth and swiped your tongue over it. He’d never been given a hickey before. Most people were too scared to touch his neck. But here you were, finding a way and making it enjoyable for him.

“Fuck~” he groaned as you let go of his flesh with a pop. “I love you so goddamn much.” He lifted your face and slotted your lips into his. His right hand remained on your still-clothed pussy, but his left hand moved to unhook your bra. He struggled for a moment, trying to concentrate on everything at once, but you helped out by pulling your dress over your head, unhooking it yourself, and tossing your bra to the floor. Dabi had seen you naked plenty of times before. Hell, you had fucked on the first date. But seeing you now through his drunken lens, an even mixture of love and lust behind your eyes, made his cock twitch. He wanted to show you exactly how much he loved you the best way he could.

He took your nipple, hardened against the cool air of his apartment, between his lips. You let your head fall back, hair ghosting against your back. You let out a whine as his tongue swiped over your breast, his thumb gently brushing against your sex through the lace of your panties. Soon, you felt his soft fingertips push your panties into a thin line to the left of your pussy. Now, his thumb brushed against your bare clit, pulling another whine from your lips, longer this time with enough desire to make a saint blush. Pleased, Dabi dipped two of his fingers between your folds and played in your arousal for a moment, thoroughly coating his fingers in your slick, relishing in your scent and desperate to pull more sighs and whines from your love-swollen lips.

Dabi’s lips pulled away from your tit to look up at you as two of his long fingers slipped past your entrance. Your mouth dropped into a pretty O shape, mimicking a moan as Dabi’s drunken gaze met your lustful one. You let the shaky moan escape your lungs as his palm rested against your clit and his fingers curled inside you. Dabi’s lips were just centimeters from your own. Dabi closed the gap, slotting his lips into yours and beginning to move his fingers inside you. Your lack of sounds, however, led Dabi to believe this wasn’t enough. He picked you up and switched spots with you, laying you down on the couch with your legs still spread. He quickly pushed his fingers back into you, curling them again to hear you moan, louder this time from the new position.

Dabi began to lazily pump his fingers in and out of you, the palm of his large hand pushing against your clit with each thrust of his wrist. He absent-mindedly palmed the growing bulge in his jeans, too focused on your pretty noises to realize that he could fully stroke himself. “Dabi~” you whined, “you’re gonna make me cum!” Dabi groaned at the name. He didn’t know it bothered him until right now. He’d have to think about it later, the way that name made him feel, especially coming from the lips of his girl, someone he was supposed to love. He’d think about it later.

“Tha’s th’ point,” he growled, pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind. “Cum f’ me, sweet girl.”

It was the nickname. The nickname had you flying over the edge, the rope of pleasure snapping in the pit of your stomach. Your orgasm gushed over Dabi’s fingers and dripped down your ass cheeks, your moans tumbling over your tongue like dice.

Without a moment to rest, Dabi unzipped his jeans, his dick aching to be set free from their denim and polyester prison, desperate to be buried inside you. He slapped the tip of his cock against you several times, sliding himself between your folds and coating himself in the liquid of your orgasm. When he rested his head against your entrance, your eyes widened. “Too much,” you whined. “D-dab-bi, I c-can’t–”

“Don’ call me that ‘nymore,” he commanded, looking you dead in the eyes. It wasn’t him being bratty or demanding or even the “dom.” The sentence came out of nowhere, without Dabi even thinking. The small amount of worry in your eyes made Dabi question his own words. He swallowed hard, the look in his eyes changing from fiery to soft in a matter of seconds, trying to silently assure you he wasn’t angry.

You were panting and shaking, not-so-patiently awaiting the stretch of his cock against your walls. “W-what do I call-all you the-en?” you stuttered, eyes flashing between his hips and his eyes.

“My name,” he answered, “is Touya.” With no time for you to respond, Dabi–rather, Touya–slammed his entire length inside your waiting cunt. You gasped as his hips collided with yours. Touya’s movements stopped to soothe you, as you whimpered and whined underneath him against the stretch of his member. He pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, your thighs stretching to allow Touya as close to you as possible. He rested his forehead against yours as he pulled out of you slowly. His right hand came to caress your cheek. “‘M sorry,” he mumbled. “Di’n’t mean t’ scare you.”

You nodded, not quite able to come up with the words to respond. Slowly, methodically, he thrusted into you, his tip kissing your cervix as you let out a soft whine. Dabi let his eyes close as he listened, continuing to move his hips as slowly as possible, worried he might scare you again. “T-Touya,” you stammered. His icy blue eyes opened to find you, staring up at him with as much love as you could muster. Before that moment, Touya hated the person he was supposed to be. With every small reminder, he hated himself a little more for not living up to be that person. But when those syllables came from your lips, he felt loved. He felt wanted. He felt needed. He felt like he was the person he was always meant to be. “N-need more,” you pleaded.

He thrusted in and out of you again, with a little more force and slightly more speed. You let out a loud sigh. Touya’s sobriety was ruined–he got drunk on your moans, your scent, the way your pretty pussy gripped his dick like a vice. “R’lax, pretty girl,” he groaned, nearly through his teeth. “If y’ clamp d’wn on me like that, ‘m gonna cum already.” He slowed, almost to a stop, his cock resting inside you at the hilt, reaching deep inside you. With his left hand, Touya caressed your waist, your hips, anything he could reach. He wanted to be impossibly closer to you. He thrusted into you once again, once he was sure he wasn’t going to bust on the spot.

You did your best to relax, taking long breaths that exhaled in the form of moans and cries. “Oh, you pretty little thing,” Touya groaned, becoming restless. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“‘M yours, Touya,” you moaned in response. “I’m all yours.” The sound of his name–his true name–escaping your lips left him gasping for air.

“Promise?” he asked, looking you in the eyes with the same intensity as before. His thrusting slowed, pulling you away from another orgasm. You sighed, grieving the loss of the previously incoming pleasure. “Promise you’re mine?” At first you thought this was his way of dominating you, like maybe he was going to edge you until he got what he wanted. But when you looked deeper into his diamond eyes, you saw actual fear. Now that you’d said his name, he was terrified. Terrified that he’d lose you. Terrified that, after you, nobody would ever say his name the way you did. Not with pity. Not with disappointment. Not with anger. But with as much love as could be packed into one five-letter-word.

“I promise, Touya,” you whispered. Upon the promise, Touya began to thrust into you with such fury and passion that your body became overwhelmed. Your thoughts were no longer coherent. The only sensation you could feel was Touya entering and leaving your sex as quickly as he possibly could.

Within a minute, he felt your hole pulsing around him. Touya relished the feeling of you. The pressure of your pussy around his cock made him bust unexpectedly. All of the sudden, he was emptying himself into you, the ultimate sign that you were, in fact, his. He continued thrusting, his cock aching from the overstimulation. But he needed you to cum. He was desperate for you to cry out his name again, to be the one to make you feel oh-so-much. He stood up, thrusting into you at a new angle. His thumb swiped over your soaked clit, pulling more pleasure out of you. “Come on, pretty girl,” he groaned. “I wanna feel you cum on me, wanna make you feel s’good.”

Touya’s words washed over you, only adding to the pleasure. You played with your own pebbled nipples, desperate for the orgasm you’d been denied twice now. With every single thrust a moan came tumbling from your tongue. And with a few final thrusts, Touya was emptying himself into you again. The pressure of his cum filling you up made you fall over that final edge into bliss. You cried out, “Touya~!” as your cunt clenched around him with your orgasm.

Touya let out a sigh as you came down from your high. “Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he whispered, his length staying inside of you for a moment. As he slowly slid out, you sighed at the loss of contact. He picked you up and switched spots with you, resting you on his lap one more time. Both of you were out of breath, your bare chests pressed against each other.

Touya’s fingers locked behind your back, his arms tightly wrapped around your waist. The soft fingers on his left hand ghosted over your back, creating goosebumps on your skin. You smiled into his neck. “I love you,” you said. “Do you know that?” You sat up to look at him, your hands resting on his face. “I love you so damn much.”

Touya smiled up at you gently, the sleep beginning to wash over his body. “I love you, too,” he whispered, your forehead resting against his before you pressed a long, loving kiss into his lips. He suddenly stood up, and you let out a gasp as he picked you up. “Let’s get to bed,” he said, carrying you all the way to his bed, the mattress and box spring on the floor. When he finally rested on the mattress next to you, he covered both of you with his blankets and pulled your head to rest on his chest. You pressed feather-light kisses onto his burnt skin every once in a while. “Y’really wanna be w’th me f’rever?” he slurred, his body still processing the alcohol.

You huffed in a small laugh. “As long as you want me to stay,” you answered, never even picking your head up. You draped your arm over him and rested your hand on the opposite side of his waist.

“So,” he said, “forever, then.” It was halfway a smartass joke, halfway a correction.

You laughed again. “Yeah,” you answered. “Forever.”

This work was written by Abigail "Billie" Rothenberger. Please do not copy this work on Tumblr or any other platform.

[flavored-soda]

swapping soot and spit

Rating: R (explicit 18+) minors DNI

Warnings: Smut, pwp

Word Count: 3.8k

Pairing: BuckTommy/Tevan/Kinley

Summary: After the greeting in the hospital lobby. Tommy and Buck decide they need more than a kiss to say hello.

read on ao3 | heed the tags and the warnings y'all |

He’s not sure how they got here. Well, actually, that’s a lie. He does know how they got here: Tommy. Tommy is how they got here. Or more specifically, Tommy covered in soot and grime. His boyfriend, marching through those hospital doors with big blue eyes filled with exhaustion and happiness, and the adrenaline from a call still visibly coursing through his big muscular body, is how they got here. A stupid little line while he yanked the older man into a searing and hungry kiss is how they got here. So, maybe Buck was more of the reason that he and Tommy were wrapped around each other in a supply closet, swallowing each other’s moans.

Tommy’s hands were moving all around his body. Slipping under his shirt, gliding up his sides, ghosting his fingertips over his hips, and hooking his thumb in his waistline. One would occasionally move to his head, giving his hair slight tugs that were driving him mad. He never thought he would like having his hair pulled this much, but that’s the effect that Tommy has on him. 

“Hmph. Baby. Evan. Give me a second.” Tommy rushed out as he pulled away slightly. His words were airy and mixing together, both in an attempt to stay quiet and his exasperation from Buck’s unrelenting mouth. He had moved down to Tommy’s neck, nipping and sucking where he could, the smell of smoke and the taste of soot adding to his eagerness.

“Baby, seriously.” Tommy wrapped his fingers in Buck’s hair and gave it a sharp tug. Buck let out an embarrassing sound as he was pulled away causing his boyfriend to smirk. 

God, Buck wanted to kiss that smug little smile off his face. He wanted to lick the soot off too, find out what it tasted like when it was mixed with Tommy’s sweat. He was buzzing with want and he wasn’t one to stop himself. He leaned in again, resulting in another, smaller tug on his hair to keep him away. He let out a gasp and tried to choke back a whine. He had never done that before, the realization made the flush on his cheeks grow brighter.

“I know, honey. I know.” His boyfriend whispered.

Buck took the chance to look him over. His hair was even messier than before with a few pieces sticking out, his lips were effectively kiss-swollen and bitten red, and under all that grime was a pink flush of his own. Buck trailed his eyes from his boyfriend’s chest, watching it rise and fall, with a sort of pride in knowing he did that to him, up to meet Tommy’s gaze. His eyes were dark, the blue being consumed by the lust. He looked delicious as he gave a small smile down at Buck.

The younger man assumed he looked equally as wrecked, if not more. His brain was filling up with images, thoughts, and ideas that were fueling this need to devour his lover. All memory that they were in a hospital supply closet had left him as he honed in on Tommy’s lips. He licked his own when the older opened his mouth to speak.

“As much as I’m loving this, baby, I need you to tell me what you want here.” 

“You. I want you.” Buck responded. Man, he sounded desperate.

Tommy gave him another small smile.

“I figured that much, but need I remind you where we are? I need to know how far you intend on taking this.” 

Oh. Oh. Buck hadn’t really thought about that, had he? He was so wrapped up in the image of his boyfriend fresh from saving lives that he didn’t seem to think about where this was headed. And look, Buck wasn’t a virgin, he’s had plenty of sex, but not with another man. The closest he came was when a girl wanted to experiment with pegging and only went as far as circling a finger or two around Buck’s hole. This was new territory and the thought of it was exciting.

“I want to touch you.” Buck replied.

“Touch me? Baby, we have to get to the room. People are going to start to wonder where you went.” The hand in Buck’s hair had eased up, becoming a caressing touch. It was melting Buck’s brain.

“I know, I know. Just…please, Tommy.” And fuck, if Tommy didn’t look at him with the most sincere expression.

“Evan, are you sure?”

Buck was melting, not only from the soft touches from Tommy, but the softness of the other man, the consideration he had. It was only making Buck that much more sure.

“Yes. I’m sure. I want to touch you, Tommy.” The soft touches quickly turned harsh again as Tommy smashed their lips back together. It was similar to the one that started this entire debacle, messy and hungry. 

Tommy’s hands were back on his hips and slipping and sliding under his hoodie. Only stopping to place a firm grip on Buck’s hips and push him back against one of the shelving units. Buck let out a grunt at the impact that was quickly swallowed down by his boyfriend’s incessant mouth. Buck’s own hands trying to explore what he could of the older while he still wore his gear. He shifted to try and push the jacket off, the movement had Tommy slotting his leg in between Buck’s. When he let out a small gasp at the sensation hit him, his boyfriend hiked his leg up, propping it up on the bottom shelf of the unit. The action separated their lips for a second, giving time for a moan to slip through Buck’s lips. Tommy leaned in and captured it. Then his boyfriend maneuvered Buck’s hips, guiding the younger to rub himself against his thigh. 

Buck bit his lip in an attempt to hide the noises involuntarily escaping his throat. The awareness that they were in a hospital supply closet hitting him. The new prospect of potentially getting caught only made him more hot and bothered. His hands kept fumbling as he found Tommy’s waistband. Every tip and trick he ever knew for make-outs and quickies fleeing his mind with each thrust against Tommy’s leg. He was attempting to unbutton Tommy’s pants and the goal only became harder as he became more and more turned on. The more his hands roamed his boyfriend’s body, the more noises he ripped from Tommy’s chest, the harder his cock became.

The noises that Buck pulled from Tommy were starting to fuel some dirtier thoughts. Like how he couldn’t stop thinking about dropping to his knees and sucking his boyfriend off right here. He had been on the receiving end of many blowjobs, but now he was wondering what it would feel like with Tommy’s cock in his mouth. The weight of it resting against his tongue, the tip of it hitting the back of his throat as his boyfriend ever so gently helped Buck move his head along the length of it. He wondered what it would taste, if the smoke and sweat smell had moved beyond Tommy’s hair and clothes. He wanted to know what else about Tommy tasted so good.

A particularly hard thrust from Tommy had Buck moving his hands to Tommy’s shoulders. Buck pulled away with part of groan, his own teeth biting down on his lips to keep it in. His eyes flashed back down to Tommy’s only to find a mischievous glint in them. The sight only causes Buck’s hips to grind further on to Tommy’s leg. His lover’s hands on his hips holding him in position and helping his hips move the sloppier his movements got. 

“You’re doing such a good job, Evan, letting me touch you.” Tommy whispered before he placed a soft kiss next to Buck’s ear. The words sent a shock wave through his system.

Before Tommy, Buck would have argued that he didn’t really have a praise kink. Sure, he liked knowing that he was doing a good job, who didn’t? But none of his past partners talked to him like this. The “praise” he received would be in strings of moan and curses as he worked his fingers and/or tongue into them. Sometimes they would push his head further into them, beg him to keep going, but they never called him pretty or called him good. And if they did, it wasn’t like how Tommy does.

“That’s it, baby.” Tommy whispered against his ear.

God, he felt like a teenager, rutting against his partner in some dingy closet, about to come in jeans. The entire thing was like something out of a wet dream. It had Buck letting out little gasps, until a particularly hard thrust where he let out a moan. Tommy rushed to swallow it down, only pulling away when he was sure that Buck could stay quiet. Keeping himself close by focusing on peppering kisses and nips just below his boyfriend’s ear.

“Not that I don’t love your noises, Evan, but we are in a supply closet of a hospital we visit quite frequently for work.” Tommy pulled back from his assault on Buck’s neck, snaking a hand back up into the younger’s hair. He gave it a good tug, forcing the two to lock eyes. 

“We wouldn’t want the staff to find out how much of a slut you are, would we now?” And that was all Buck needed to send him over the edge. The constant pressure of Tommy’s thigh pressing into him, the older man’s hands on his hips, it all sent him hurtling towards his orgasm at an alarming speed. 

Tommy had, once again, locked them into a searing kiss. He licked into Buck’s mouth, exploring every crevice and crack as he devoured the younger’s moans and groans. He kept his hands on Buck’s hips, slowly working him through the aftershocks of his climax. It all became too much too quick. Buck’s moans turned into whines as the pressure on his clothed cock bordered uncomfortable. Tommy moved his leg from between his boyfriend’s thighs and placed his foot back down on the ground, effectively giving the two space but still staying close enough to breathe each other in.

“Woah.” Buck breathed out. It was a whisper and gasp mixed together as he attempted to catch his breath. Tommy let out an equally quiet chuckle, moving to rest their foreheads together. 

“Yea? That good, lover?” Tommy responded before he pressed a chaste kiss to his boyfriend’s lips.

“Yea.” He took another breath in, letting out a whine on exhale. He shifted, feeling the wetness in his boxers. Tommy must’ve noticed the look of discomfort on his face because he reached up, grabbing a box from the shelf that Buck’s head was resting against. When he pulled his hand back down, he had held a couple of paper towels in hand.

“May I?” He said, giving a quick glance down before traveling his eyes back up to Buck’s. The younger man nodded.

He had never felt this taken care of, never been this doted on. Tommy took his time unbuttoning Buck’s jeans and pulling his cock free. The paper towels were rough against him, still sensitive from his recent orgasm. Despite the uncomfortableness, he was reveling in the touch. What he did to deserve a man like Tommy, he’ll never know.

The older man finished cleaning Buck up, helping him back into his jeans, even going as far as zipping and buttoning up the younger’s pants. Another kind of softness that Buck wasn’t quite used to. Buck placed his hands on Tommy’s cheeks, pulling him in for another kiss. The older one smiled into it before pulling away.

“Alright, baby, as much as I love ogling you like this, I think it’s time we head back out there.” Tommy said, taking a step back to throw the soiled paper towels into a trash can in the corner. Buck frowned as he took the chance to look over his lover.

Tommy’s turnout gear covered him well, but he didn’t cover him enough. One look down and Buck could see the bulge his boyfriend was sporting. Tommy had reached out to grab another paper towel, using it to wipe his hands. He wasn’t looking at Buck, so he took the opportunity while he could. 

Without even thinking, he pushed Tommy up against the opposite shelving unit, pressing into him with kiss after kiss. The impact caused the shelf to rattle and Tommy let out a gasp, giving Buck the access to lick into his boyfriend’s mouth. Tommy had moved his hands back onto Buck’s hips and waist. He thought about doing the same for Tommy as he did for him, the image of his older and suave boyfriend rutting against thigh was certainly one he would be saving for lonelier nights, but his mind couldn’t help but wander back to earlier thoughts. The ones with Tommy's dick in his mouth, the ones with Buck on his knees, and Tommy’s hands in his hair, guiding further down his length. He pulled away from the kiss. 

“Baby.” Tommy breathed out. He sounded just as wrecked as Buck felt. There was a certain pride that flooded him with the sound.

“Evan, sweetheart.” Tommy breathed out as Buck moved his hands to the waistband of his turnout gear. “They’re going to–” He was cut off when Buck slipped his hand into his underwear. 

The younger’s touch was sloppy as he tried to find his rhythm. It wasn’t much different than touching his own cock, but the angle was strange. He was fumbling to get a proper hold, that didn’t seem to matter to Tommy as he was letting out little huffs of breath and biting his lip to contain moans. It was driving Buck crazy.

“Fuck.” Tommy let out. 

Buck had found his angle. He found a nice pattern as well, using his thumb to swipe over the head and slit of his boyfriend’s cock. He may not have ever given a handjob but he had received plenty. He knew what felt good and he was just repeating that. It was apparently working. Tommy’s head jerked back, causing another smaller rattle run through the shelving unit. He was starting to fuck into the younger’s hand. The sight was yet another that Buck was trying to mentally capture forever. 

Tommy’s head was resting back against the shelf closest to it. His eyes were squeezed shut as he bit his lip. Buck’s legs started to move on their own. Too drunk on the sight of boyfriend and the leaking cock in his hand too notice when his legs started to sink. Tommy’s hands seemed to glide with him the further he sank. They almost seemed to be aiding in Buck’s descent. Despite the position change, he kept his hand at work, pulling more gasps, shutters, and whispers out of his boyfriend. And when his knees hit the floor, he made sure to look up so he could drink it all in. Tommy’s hand had snaked its way into Buck’s hair, tugging a little. 

Fuck, he was getting hard again.

“That eager, are we?” 

Oh, screw his boyfriend for still managing to wreck Buck while looking just as wrecked himself. Buck wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off his face. He looked down at his boyfriend’s dick. More thoughts about the taste of it in his mouth, the weight, the warmth of it flooded his mind. 

Was he drooling? God, he was probably drooling. 

He swallowed before looking back up at Tommy. The older man’s eyes were open, gazing down with a certain softness and the hand in his hair had moved from tugging to stroking. There was something in the actions that read as gentle and assuring. Buck gave his boyfriend a soft smile before opening his mouth and leaning in. 

The sensation was weird, at first, it was too much too fast. The salty taste of sweat and precum, the heavy weight hot on his tongue, the feel of skin in his mouth. He squirmed as his own cock twitched against his soiled boxers. He took it all in, letting his tongue run over what he could, the only goal in mind became tasting every square inch of his boyfriend’s cock. His hand had moved towards the base, giving little thrusts here and there. Similar to a handjob, he may have never given one, but he received enough that he knew what felt good. 

Tommy was letting out little strings of hushed hums and gasps. A small “Fuck, Evan” would sometimes slip past the older’s lips. It just encouraged Buck to take more of Tommy into his mouth. Buck’s spit was mixing with Tommy’s precum, making it for his hand to glide up and down what he couldn’t fit. 

It was sloppy and gross and if Buck wasn’t drooling before, he’s sure that he was now. In fact, he could feel it escaping the corners of his lips and starting to run down his chin. Add that to Tommy’s hand in his hair, giving slight tugs on the short strands, and Buck was starting to get the term “cock drunk.” 

He worked the hand on Tommy’s shaft, moving with his mouth and twisting his wrist to get the right angle. He was trying to take more and more, learning pretty quickly that he needed to breathe his nose if he wanted anymore. The dragging of Tommy’s cock against his tongue made him want to test more so he started swirling his tongue around what he could. His actions were fast and frenzied, the goal changing to how much more of the older man could get a taste of. He was getting so caught up in the moment he felt like he was floating. Tommy’s tugs on his hair were keeping grounded until his boyfriend thrusted his hips, pushing his cock further into Buck’s mouth until it hit the back of his throat. He gagged and Tommy quickly pulled him off.

If this was anyone else, Buck might’ve been okay with stopping there. But this wasn’t anyone else, this was Tommy. He may have just gotten done sputtering in an attempt to catch his breath, but he had decided that he needed to be choking on his boyfriend’s dick once more. He recovered fast, moving his hand back to the shaft before trying to find back that rhythm. 

“Evan.” Slipped past Tommy’s lips.

Buck pulled his gaze away from the sight in front of him and looked up at the other. Tommy was wrecked. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, and his hair was tousled from smacking back against the shelves. Buck watched as his older’s eye bore into his, searching.

Buck gave a soft smile that was turning into a smirk to Tommy as a response. His hand on the shaft had started to pick up pace, and he was using his other to help push the flushed head of boyfriend’s cock past his lips.

“Alright. Okay, then.” It was whispered that Tommy seemed to whisper to himself more than to Buck. 

Regardless, the younger one hummed in response. Tommy let out another groan.

Buck returned his focus to the cock in front of him. He was more confident this time, going in with the pride of taking his older and suave boyfriend apart. It took seemingly almost nothing to work the other back to a mess. The next time Buck looked up Tommy had a hand over his mouth, biting down on it to muffle his sounds and his eyes were closed tight. His hips were moving on their own, driving Buck crazy.

He could feel himself getting hard again. Only adding to the previous mess in his sweats. Tommy’s thrust had picked up some, the hand in Buck’s hair focusing on holding his head in place as the older fucked into him. The hold was firm but gentle. If it really was too much for the younger he could pull away and Tommy would easily let him go. But that’s not what not Buck wanted. No. What he wanted was to feel his boyfriend’s fuck his throat, his usual composure wavering as he worked himself towards an orgasm. He wanted to taste his boyfriend’s cum, swallow what he could and let the rest of it mix with the soot that was surely enveloping his face. 

“Jesus. Fuck, Evan.” Tommy mumbled as he tried to pull back. He was close and Buck wasn’t about to let him go now.

He protested with his own groans and whines. Shuffling closer to the older man to try to keep the cock in his mouth. He looked up at Tommy, trying to convey through a look that he wanted this, craved this.

“Baby.” He took in a breath. “Are you sure?”

Buck nodded the best could in response and that was all Tommy needed. His thrusts were sloppy as he chased his finish. Buck was taking all of it like a champ. Tommy came with a muffled groan, spilling down his boyfriend’s throat. 

Buck swallowed what he could. The feeling of hot cum, Tommy’s hot cum filling his mouth was one that he wanted to savor. Some of it was spilling out the corners of his mouth, mixing with mess from earlier. He licked and swallowed and gagged until Tommy pulled him off with a pop. Buck protested with a whine, wanting and wishing for more. Tommy was above him, panting, but he was looking down at the younger with a certain fondness. The hand that was in Buck’s hair trailed down his face again, stopping at his lips and chin. Tommy’s thumb swiped across both, collecting the cum and spit that had escaped, before pressing the digit to Buck’s mouth. He took it with glee, sucking off and swallowing the mess before pulling away with another obscene pop.

“You are something else, kid.” Tommy said. He was stroking the same thumb over Buck’s cheek. 

The moment was quickly ruined with the sound of footsteps coming closer. Suddenly it dawned on them where they were. 

A hospital.

Maddie’s wedding. 

A supply closet.

Buck moved to stand up, but Tommy’s hand kept him pushed down. His boyfriend looked down at him, shaking his head and keeping a finger pressed to his lips. They waited for the footsteps to pass and then some. Both let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding. Buck moved to his feet and Tommy pulled him into a kiss. They pulled apart with a chuckle.

“What am I going to do with you, Evan?” 

“Hm. How about you take me home?”

“After we go say hi to everyone.” Tommy pressed their foreheads together and ran his fingers down Buck’s cheek to his chin. Only to tilt Buck’s head back up for another kiss.

And Buck thought he just might hold him to that.

[profounddefendorcrusade-blog]

Clover's personality (in-depth)

This thing turned out way longer than intended. As promised, I wrote my opinions in regards to Clover's mbti; I also wanted to include the enneagram but figured it would be too much, so I'll do that separaretly. For those who wanna get straight to the point, just scroll to the end of the post for a pic of the functions I think Clover has. But if you want more details, read the whole thing. Probably not many people will wanna do that, but I had fun, lol. Please excuse me for nerding out

Analysis

Even before they got into the Underground, Clover thought to themselves "Ok, this is a dangerous mountain and I ain't coming back, I'm probably gonna die and therefore not live to see the rest of my life play out BUT I'm gonna follow my values anyway. They're worth the risk." To me, right off the bat, that's Fi over Ti (aka inner values and morals over inner facts and logic).

I've done some research on this stuff and found out how "Fi knows the value of something not by analyzing it but by feeling it deep inside themselves that it is how it should be" Ti has to be as objective as possible, Fi doesn't. So I sat down and thought about how exactly Clover approached situations.

I feel like their main reasoning for being in the Underground were their inner values and beliefs of finding out what happened to the children. That's why I'd say they're an introvert rather than an extrovert (it's not because they're quiet and reserved, although they are, but because Clover's inner world affects their outer world). Now, both Ti and Fi look inward, and those inner thoughts and feelings affect how they interact with the external world. The real question is: is Clover objective enough to be considered a dominant Ti user?

We can see in the Vengeance route that Clover is stubborn with their beliefs and refuses to look at things from a more... logical POV: "Asgore killed five humans. Is it fair to wipe out every other monster in my way who gives me even the slightest reason to do it?" Martlet was the only exception because she was the only one who had tried to be nice and understanding. Clover's dark side is that they're tunnel-visioned and see morality as black and white (don't look deeper as to WHY the monsters do what they do), and blindly follow their own beliefs over what objectively makes sense. Just like Ceroba, who I'm positive is a feeler (she only considers how she felt about Chujin and not how skilled of an engineer he actually was, even when there's clear proof he wasn't the best at his job). 

Objectively, it's not fair to kill so many monsters after only five humans were killed. If Clover wanted fair vengeance, they would have stopped after five monsters were killed. But no. According to Clover's own logic, everyone morally imperfect, everyone who's hurt them, who tried to hurt them, or messed up somehow, must die. So, Clover isn't thinking about what makes sense; they're thinking about what makes sense to THEM, and stubbornly hold onto that till the end (again, like Ceroba), even after Martlet's warnings. She says how the Royal Guard will be after them.

The logical (T) thing to do would be to STOP before things become even messier, but once again, no. Clover doesn't care about the consequences, only fulfilling their mission that is driven by their own set of values. No matter which route you choose, you will be presented with Clover's own version of what "justice" means. It's not the objective truth, it's not what's the logical thing to do; they follow their own framework based on their (our) choices.

"If unhealthy INFPs are dealing with threatened values or viewpoints that oppose their own, they can go the other way and imagine that others are all corrupt, thinking badly of them, and deluded. They may see themselves as the only people who see “the truth”, or the only people who really care to make a difference in the world. They can become especially harsh and critical of others and take on a martyr role, gradually secluding themselves from other people". - this feels like geno Clover; they thought they were the hero but they were playing the villain all along

Now that I think about it, the logical thing to do, the one that makes the most sense, would be never to have entered Mt. Ebott in the first place. And if vengeance was what Clover wanted to do, it is fair and makes objective sense to kill only five monsters (since that's how many humans died). But as explained, Clover didn't follow that logical conclusion, but rather their own twisted sense of justice. The same goes for neutral. It's Clover who chooses who gets to live and who gets to die based on their own beliefs and feelings, which are not backed up by facts. Everything they do they do because they themselves feel like it should be done. They are the one who decide who gets to live and who doesn't based on their own opinion/how severe they think the misdeed of the final boss is. This counts for the regular monsters who attack them, too; again, THEIR own subjective decision.

For example, they might see Dalv's actions as acceptable/forgiveable and spare him, but not Starlo's and kill him. Objectively, both characters are messy in their own way, but Clover gets to be the "judge" and decide their fate, not objectively looking at the situation, but subjectively. In short, according to them, Dalv may deserve to live, but not Starlo. 

And even if they're a dominant Ti user, which I don't think they are, Clover is more past and future-oriented than present-oriented (N over S). As mentioned, they thought about how much they'd risk by going down Mt. Ebott (potentially dying, and definitely never seeing the surface ever again, or their family) but they followed their heart's desires; to them, morals and ethics (their own morals and ethics) were more important than what the more logical thing to do was (stay on the surface where it's safe).

In other words, they could already "predict" what would happen in the future, while in the present moment (the beginning of the journey).

And right before sacrificing their soul in pacifist, they think about how their death would affect ALL the monsters in the future, whether they had directly met and befriended them or not, even though they wouldn't be there to see it.

Clover seems to be able to easily move between the past, present and future, unlike sensors, who are mainly in the present moment (this is what I've heard somewhere at some point and remembered it, dunno how true it is). They can easily recall the past, and what they remember are things that moved them on the inside.

I've heard some of my friends say that Clover's character arc was to become a kinder person (develop their Fe), which, honestly, I don't think is the case. They simply acted on their inner views of what justice truly means, without further analyzing whatever they believed justice to be.

In pacifist, they're naturally selfless and kind and forgiving: a bit of a prankster, but they're one of "the best souls" according to Martlet. Just look at the ACT options that they used to befriend monsters. Quietly listens to Decibat, offers Dalv a handshake (and friendship), easily forgives Martlet, Starlo, and even Ceroba (+ gives her a hug), endures so many hardships yet keeps their heart pure and selfless. 

They were always driven by something bigger than themselves (like Chujin, who I also think is a N user).

ISTPs are more adventurous and independent and flexible and focused on current problems in the present moment; Clover has been future-oriented from the start; they depended on Toriel to take care of them, and didn't try to immediately "adapt" to the monster world. Their 1st reaction was to stay safe and cozy. ESTJs (yeah, at some point I thought Clover could be one) are more "ruthless" in their pursuits, they "force" others to adopt their inner values. Clover doesn't do this in any route; they simply act upon their own beliefs, but aren't demanding that other monsters to have those same beliefs.

That's why I think they're an INFP.

Functions

Fi (dominant) – "If something goes against their moral code, they will not go through with it." It went against Clover’s moral code to spare monsters in genocide and abort the mission, so they didn’t, regardless of Martlet’s warnings.

"Fi dominants are inclined to speak up against beliefs or actions that go against their personal values or express disapproval of certain behaviors." I can't find the screenshot, but in the Mines, if you interact with the character who's in the same room as one of the puzzles, Clover will find out how that character pulled a prank on that guy who later got a promotion in the pacifist end credits (I need to reply the game to find the screenshot). But basically Clover was upset that their own morals weren't met and gave them a "disapproving look" or smth

"Ti dominants most often feel compelled to speak out when people are acting inconsistent (ie: contradicting themselves) or when people are being illogical from the Ti user’s perspective." I think Clover reacted to the above situation as a Fi user

"Unlike Fe users, Fi users are very blunt and direct. Fi and Te creates a person who is brutally honest about their opinions and feelings. If they don’t like a person, they will let that person know." Not a person in this case, but an example of this are the options we get for Martlet's questionnaire. Clover will have no problem honestly giving her the lowest scores for both questions; we also also get the chance to honestly tell Ceroba that we're not into Starlo's training. There are these cases where they're direct as well:

...and blunt:

they would have given at least a smile or a thumbs up, but no, their honest opinion is their honest opinion

"They appear cold and withdrawn, but tend to warm up as they get to know a person."

Ne (auxiliary) – "Ne views a situation from multiple angles and motivations" I feel like this is best seen in pacifist; this is exactly why Clover decided to give up their soul in the end; they saw all the motivations of the monsters, from many different angles. On the flip side, in the vengeance route, it’s the complete opposite situation: Clover only looks at things from their own pov, completely disregarding others. That’s the thing about the INFP dark side: INFPs become "disillusioned or stuck in their ways." This 100% describes Clover at their worst: stuck in their ways is already explained, while we can say they were disillusioned when even Martlet turned against them/gave up on them (in Genocide). That was enough of a reason for Clover not to feel bad about finishing her off. They never liked her, but they definitely liked her more than anyone else, so I’d say it counts.

"Creative, open-minded, and able to think outside the box" We can say Clover’s creative when they build Axis’ robot companion, solved the two puzzles in the Mines, they’re also most likely into role-playing just like Starlo, based on their clothes (and they seemed into the whole larping thing with him), and how they seem to be into drawing; open-minded, definitely (Clover with everyone; the pacifist route in a nutshell); able to think outside the box (this goes hand in hand with them being creative: I forgot to mention the many creative ways they found to befriend monsters)

"Ne lives in the present like Se does but makes connections to past and future." Imo, this is exactly what Clover does (their sacrifice in the future, and all the things other monsters had said to them in the past; however, they DO interact with the present world at the same time. This is what I meant when I mentioned how they "jump from and connect all 3")

Si (tertiary) – "happy in their comfort zone" Is this Clover? Yeah. Initially, this was their "default" reaction/behavior: with Toriel. They subconsciously became more independent thanks to good old Flowey. As I said, their values led them to take the risk and come into the Underground in the first place, not adventure/excitement (the way I see it). Were they also seeking the truth? Yeah again, they wanted to know the truth behind the whole situation, but I think it had more to do with how they had found the fact that no other humans bothered to look for the kids immoral.

"Si users may draw on their past experiences to guide their present actions and decisions" Example, how the detailed lines they remembered everyone said in true pacifist, influenced them to make the decision to die in the present moment. Or when they asked Ceroba if she would date Starlo, after hearing and remembering Crestina mention his crush on her beforehand, wanting to set them up.

"Si users have a strong memory for past experiences and details" Yep, explained above. Also, dunno if this counts as noticing details, but we can make them beat the Shufflers’ game with ease.

"Si users are typically practical and realistic in their approach to solving problems" The Snowdin mini-quests come to mind (although they use past information here too to figure out what each character needs to be helped). Also, how they fixed the elevator by using a pickaxe (most practical & realistic choice). They’re also pretty rational while dealing with Guardener, and in general, while dealing with enemies.

Te (inferior) – I guess this is why I suspected they could be an ESTJ.

"seen as leaders" By everyone.

"Come up with ideas quickly" Pretty much throughout the game. They’re more low-key about this than ESTJs though.

"Ruthlss and domineering" This is them in vengeance route

"Extraverted Thinkers recognize the emotional content, but then they set it aside to focus on the facts" I feel like this inferior function of theirs is mostly seen in flawed pacifist. They recognized Ceroba’s emotional situation, but chose to be fair and just instead.

"Te users are logical" Recognizing the dangers of the Underground and deciding to stay with Toriel. We can also say it makes sense that Clover attacked those who attacked them first, and finished Ceroba off (Te is what is objective, but from the external world)

"Though they are generally free spirits, they like to have a certain order in their lives. They do enjoy structure, just as long as it does not intrude with their feelings/morals/ethics/etc. They like to be the ones to create the structure, not to have the structure to be created for them."  Vengeance route and Clover’s "mission" come to mind. Basically, the structure is that, whoever Clover sees as morally flawed, gets to die. And they stick to it

tl;dr this picture pretty much explains the way I see Clover's functions in a nutshell ↓

[prettygirl-gabi]

Tension

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Rating:General Audiences

Warning: Fluff, heavyyyyy angst, arguring, happy ending

Category:F/M

Fandom:Seventeen (SVT)  (boyband)

Relationships: !idol Dino x !idol f reader

Summary: What happens when you are the only girl member of svt, but you only but heads with Dino....

(I wanna establish that y/n has been a member since the beginning as a pr stunt, but the fans liked have a girl member in the group)

Trope : work frenemies

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Hiiiii everyone who is reading! Welcome to the thirteenth installment of my new mini series called "Oi! Not this again!" They do not have to be read together or in order! I hope you all enjoy!

It started like any other day—a regular Tuesday morning with Seventeen rehearsing, voices overlapping, the faint smell of sweat and cologne filling the room. Everything was in motion, and yet I found myself anchored to the spot, glaring at Dino. Our usual standoff, fueled by some unspoken rivalry, like clockwork.

Ever since I joined the team, there was this weird tension between us. It wasn’t that we hated each other. No, hate is clear-cut, direct. This was… messier. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to punch him or kiss him, and that uncertainty scared me.

“You’re not in sync,” Dino snapped, cutting through my haze, as if sensing my thoughts. He turned to me, his eyes sharp and critical. “Again.”

I rolled my eyes. He was always so damn nitpicky about the choreography, like he had something to prove. To me. To himself. To the group. I wasn’t sure which.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” I shot back, my voice harsher than intended. “I’m doing fine.”

“You’re dragging the rest of us down,” he spat, not even trying to hide his frustration. His jaw clenched in that way that made my stomach twist. Why did he have to look so good when he was angry?

“I’m not dragging anyone down,” I retorted, stepping forward, close enough to see the slight sheen of sweat on his brow, the rise and fall of his chest. “Maybe if you stopped micromanaging everyone, we’d get through this faster.”

His lips twitched into something like a sneer, and for a second, I thought he was going to say something cruel, something that would sting. But instead, he just scoffed and turned away, muttering under his breath, “Whatever.”

I hated this. The constant back-and-forth, the biting comments, the way he got under my skin. It was exhausting, and yet, I couldn’t stop. There was something about Dino—something infuriating and magnetic, like we were stuck in this endless dance of tension, neither of us willing to give in.

The rest of practice passed in a blur, with Dino’s words ringing in my ears. I was distracted, my focus shattered. It didn’t help that every time I caught a glimpse of him, my heart did this stupid flip, like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to beat faster in anger or something else entirely.

By the time rehearsal ended, I was done. My muscles ached, my head throbbed, and I just wanted to get out of there, away from him, away from this. But of course, fate had other plans.

“Hey.” His voice cut through the silence of the empty studio, and I froze, my hand hovering over the door. I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want to look at him.

“What do you want, Dino?” I asked, my voice cold. Distant. It was easier that way.

“You’re still mad,” he said, not a question, just a statement, as if he already knew.

“I’m not mad,” I lied, my hand gripping the door handle tighter. “I just don’t want to deal with you right now.”

He laughed, a bitter sound that made something inside me clench. “Right. Because we’ve been getting along so well lately.”

I couldn’t help it. I turned then, my eyes narrowing as I faced him. “Maybe we wouldn’t be at each other’s throats all the time if you weren’t such an arrogant ass.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, I thought I’d crossed a line. But then he stepped forward, his gaze locked on mine, and the air between us felt charged, electric.

“Arrogant?” he repeated, his voice low, dangerous. “You think I’m the problem here?”

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering in my chest. “You act like you know everything, like you’re always right, and it drives me insane.”

He was closer now, too close, and I could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint scent of his cologne. My breath hitched, and I hated myself for it. Hated that he had this effect on me.

“Maybe I wouldn’t act like I know everything if you weren’t so stubborn,” he shot back, his voice tight. “You never listen. You never let anyone help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” I said through gritted teeth. “I can handle myself.”

“Right,” he muttered, his eyes flicking down to my lips for a split second before returning to mine. “Because you’ve been handling it so well.”

I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him to screw off, but the words caught in my throat. Because suddenly, everything—the anger, the frustration, the months of tension—it all came crashing down on me. And before I could stop myself, I reached up, grabbed the front of his shirt, and yanked him down into a kiss.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was raw, desperate, filled with all the things we’d been too afraid to say. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer, and for a moment, everything else faded away. There was no rivalry, no frustration, just the feel of him against me, his lips on mine, and the overwhelming sense of relief that came with it.

But then reality came crashing back, and I shoved him away, my chest heaving. “This doesn’t change anything,” I whispered, my voice shaky.

Dino stared at me, his eyes wide, like he was just as shocked as I was. “You’re right,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

Over the next few weeks, things between us shifted. The arguing didn’t stop—if anything, it got worse. Every conversation felt like a powder keg, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. But beneath all that anger, there was something else now. A heat, a pull that neither of us could ignore.

One night, after another particularly brutal rehearsal, I found him sitting alone in the studio, his head in his hands. Without thinking, I sat down next to him, the silence between us heavy.

“I’m tired,” I admitted quietly, breaking the tension. “Of fighting with you. Of pretending like I don’t—”

“Like you don’t care?” he finished, lifting his head to look at me, his expression softer than I’d ever seen it.

I nodded, my throat tight. “Yeah. Like that.”

He sighed, leaning back against the wall, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I just… I don’t know how to act around you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

He glanced at me, a small, bitter smile on his lips. “You drive me crazy,” he admitted. “In the worst way. And the best way.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Dino…”

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” he said quietly, his voice raw. “I don’t want to keep pretending like this is just… nothing.”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. For the first time in months, there was no anger, no frustration, just the two of us, sitting in the aftermath of all the chaos we’d created.

“I don’t want to pretend either,” I whispered, my heart in my throat.

He turned to face me, his eyes searching mine, and in that moment, everything clicked into place. All the fighting, all the tension—it was because we’d been running from this. From whatever this was between us.

Slowly, tentatively, he reached out, his hand brushing against mine. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself fall.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t easy. But for the first time, it felt real. And that was enough.

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            ‐Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-Gabi✨️🎀

[spicyraeman]

Hello! I'm trying to shorten my sketch to good drawing time and I think your lae'zels are good (great) drawings. What does your initial process look like? (If you don't mind sharing your process) Do you have a sketch step or are you going straight in with the outline somehow? I'm trying to find a process that's more comfortable than I what I do now, which is sketchy and messy. And then I hate the inks I do because the sketch always looks better.

Thanks :)

Lucky for both of us I actually still have the sketch layer for my last Lae’zel drawing so I don’t have to make anything new to show the process!

I have no idea how to organize this so I'm just gonna go with my own weird thing and do levels and hope that it makes sense!

Level 1: This level is entirely for working out poses and forms. The sketch is really ugly and has no detail, just the basic building blocks for the pose and anatomy. Most of the time it looks even messier than this example, but I had to mock one up for this because if the pose is simple and I'm familiar with the character I'll just skip right into level 2

Level 2: This is when I start adding in details, not anything clean, still very messy and basic. I try to keep it loose and mostly from memory so I don’t overwork the sketch more than it needs. I usually start with a simple anatomy sketch, add hair and clothing overtop on another layer, erase the underlying anatomy, and then merge it all into one layer

Level 2.5: Sometimes on more complicated areas like the hair, hands, face, and clothes I’ll do another cleaner sketch with reference just in those areas to make the jump to level 3 easier. If I intend to leave it as a sketch ill usually do this with the whole piece and leave it as a "cleaned sketch" something a bit cleaner and more detailed than the level 2 example but not quite at level 3

Level 3: Here is where I really start busting out the references and getting down into the details. Since I don’t do inks and prefer a sketchier style this is basically my line art. I work through it in parts so things like the face, hair, clothing, hands, and skin details are all usually split up into different layers so it’s easier to manipulate and erase bits. Then at the end I merge it all together into one layer and either start on colors or call it done.

In really simplified terms, my drawing process is - draw a sketch, lower the opacity, make a new layer, draw a cleaner sketch, and then keep repeating that process till I get the results I'm looking for. Its definitely probably not the best way to do things but it works for me!

Hope all this makes sense and that the insight on how I do things helps you out!

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires - Part 1

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 610

This first part is short, but later parts will probably end up being longer. Anyway, Joe Goldberg is my current obsession. I just had to write fanfic.

Masterlist

Hello, You.

You look unsure of yourself. You've walked into Mooney's without a purpose, and now it looks like you're not sure why you came in at all. You wander through the isles aimlessly, glancing at the books without really seeing them. You're not even reading the titles. Then, you stop. You've found something that intrigues you.

You're in the isle F through K. Are you sending me a message? I'd like to think so but no, you're looking - really looking, this time - at our collection of secondhand Stephen King books.

You seem like the type to be a King fan. You’re tiny, can't be more than 5’5”. You're not fat, but you've got a round face that could trick people into thinking so, if you covered up your body more.

You're wearing a Guns ‘N Roses tank top and army-green cargo pants, and Doc Martens. You want people to be impressed when they look at you. You like the attention. I don't know who you're trying to fool, though. It's clear you wouldn't hurt a fly.

In any case, you look like the exact sort of girl who'd enjoy King's more outlandish books. I expect you to go for Desperation, or maybe Pet Sematary, but instead your searching finger glides across the spines of the books and stops at Joyland.

You slide it out from between the others. You look at the front cover, not the back. Appearances are important to you.

Suddenly, you are approaching me. You set the book down on the counter carefully. Almost reverently.

“Hi,” you say.

I like your hair. It's a deep brown, not dyed. You've got a wolf-cut, but you have curls so it looks messier than you probably intended. Your hair covers your ears fully, but I just manage to catch the sparkle of an earring.

“Hi,” I answer. “Just this today?”

“I made a deal with myself when I came in here. Only one book. I have an addiction to buying books.”

I smile, because that's good. It means you might come here again. But then again, I've never seen you before. What if you're not from around here? Just passing through? You could walk out of my life forever, after this.

“Oh yeah?” I ask, casually. “How come I've never seen you here before, then?”

“I just moved here. Trust me, you're going to see a lot of me.” You laugh. “I had a very personal relationship with the woman who runs the bookstore in my old town.”

A ‘personal' relationship? Are you hinting at something? Do you want to have a personal relationship with me?

“Came there that often, huh?”

“At least twice a week.”

“Do you just read that fast? Or…?”

“I read pretty fast, yeah.”

If you were somebody else, I might suggest you get a library card. But if I say that to you, you might actually heed my advice, and then you won't come here as much. Better not to poke that bear.

“Well, here's to hoping I see you again, then. That'll be $ 13,99.”

You hand me your card. You could pay with cash, but you want me to see your name.

“(Y/n). I like your name. It suits you.”

You shrug.

“And your last name… German?”

“Dutch,” you say. “Like I said, I just moved here.”

Funny, I don't detect an accent at all.

I ring you up, pack Joyland for you in a paper bag, and hand it to you. Your smile lights up the entire room. Your teeth are a little crooked, but not unbearably so. It's sort of adorable.

“Thanks,” you say, and: “See you later.”

Then you're leaving. I miss you already.

[juniperpyre]

continuation station: jily week 2024

for the last day of jily week, run by @sunshinemarauder and @kay-elle-cee this is a cut scene that will never make the published work from my ongoing fic, when i first saw you, the end was soon. it's so cute tho i want people to see it. there's a small amount of context missing but it's not super necessary. this takes place in late October of their 6th year

Regrettably, the next boy who approached her was Potter, who already had a date, so she'd have no chance to shout at him. 

“Cheers, Evans. Where are we off to?”

“Owlery. Sending a letter.”

“Sending a letter in the owlery? What a novel concept.”

Lily resumed her walk down the corridor at a quicker pace. The autumn cool had started to seep into the castle, but the halls were bright on the shockingly cloudless day. 

“Ha ha,” Lily deadpanned. “You don't have to join if it bores you. I insist you don't, actually.”

“Oh, don't worry, you could never bore me. I'd be happy to join you.” 

James grinned and offered Lily his arm. For a moment she considered taking it, just to see the surprise on his face. But no. Even as a joke it felt strange—especially since among her letters she was sending her reply to Fabian, her ex, along with the letters to her parents and Alice.

“Shouldn't you be planning your best mate's party?” Lily asked. 

“That's all done, of course. It's the day of, I'm not a procrastinator.”

Lily raised an eyebrow.  

“Just because the results were a bust doesn’t mean I was procrastinating,” James answered as if her raised eyebrow was a complete sentence. 

“School, then.”

“It's not procrastinating if I get an O, it's good time management.”

“How many Os did you get?”

This time James raised an eyebrow with a smirk to match. He was so arrogant, it sent a flare of irritation through Lily. 

“That's private, isn't it, Evans?”

“Never thought you'd pass up a chance to brag, Potter.”

“I'm going for charmingly humble this year. Is it coming across?”

Lily pointedly looked him up and down, intending to answer with some sort of scathing no. But he did look humble, infuriatingly normal, in belted jeans, a dark brown corduroy jacket, and a long-sleeve tee, tucked in. He looked casual in a way most purebloods could never pull off. Until he winked at her. Lily glared, her cheeks flushed. 

“Don't you have a date to bother?”

“Aw, but you're my favourite person to bother,” James said, not with a smirk but a genuine smile. 

Lily grunted in response.

“If you'd like I'll tell you my OWL results.”

They turned the last corner. James motioned for Lily to go up the stairs first, a gesture she accepted with some irritation. For a few moments, the only sounds were their shoes on stone steps and the gentle hooting of birds getting louder before James spoke again. His voice echoed up the tower.

“If you really want me to go I will. I'd thought we were both having fun, bantering, y'know, but if not… I want us both to have fun.”

He sounded earnest and not the least bit wounded. 

“No,” Lily mumbled. “You can stay. I just—I don't know. I don't know what we are. I dunno what to say or how to act. Last year—”

“We never really talked about it, yeah.” Because she’d refused when he brought it up. Chivalrous of him to pretend differently. “I hope you know, or, can tell, I guess, I'm trying. Not that it's about me!”

Lily took a deep breath. His words added to the weight of guilt, shame, and hurt she carried. 

“I know. I know you are.” 

Lily stepped into the owlery, her next words frozen on her lips as soon as James came into view. She looked at her hands, fiddling with the parchment, then back at him. His hair was messier than it had been when they started their climb. It was too hard to talk about this while looking at him. The boy who'd been the enemy, the immature, arrogant toerag. He was being too nice for her to be as mean as she wanted. 

“You have a feather in your hair. Can I?” James asked.

Lily nodded. He ran his fingers through a lock of her hair and presented her with a small bunch of fuzzy feathers and a smile. 

“It doesn't seem like you want to talk about it.”

“The feathers? Er, thanks for getting them?”

James let the feathers fall before tucking the lock of hair back behind her ear. His hand hesitated there, the soft touch of his thumb grazing under her jaw. At his touch, Lily shifted her head up, closer to James. She looked at his chest, unwilling to meet his eyes. Parchment crunched in her hand. The lightest stroke of his thumb on her skin beckoned her to look up. 

When their eyes met it became clear; she was evading, and James would let her. Lily pressed her cheek into the warmth of his hand in unspoken appreciation. He cradled her face for just a second, brief enough as to pretend it didn't happen. 

“Cheers,” he said as he pulled away. “Anytime.”

He turned to go, and Lily’s chest tightened. 

[focsle]

I've seen you answer a few asks about whaling history before, so hopefully I'm not offbase asking you questions out of the blue? But anyway, how did people bathe (or keep clean if not by bathing) during long sea voyages?

Not off base at all! Out of the blue whaling history questions are some of my fav asks to receive; I find them thrilling. I can’t help but write an essay every time.

It was particularly hard to keep clean on a whaler, and whalemen were often disparaged by those in other maritime professions. In 1839, naval Lieutenant Charles Wilkes said of the crew of the whaleship America, 

“I have seldom seen at sea a more uncombed and dirty set of mariners than his crew.“

J.E. Haviland of the Baltic, 1856, complained of besmirching his journal pages with the grime that he was unable to scrub off his hands after tarring the rigging, self consciously saying:

“My hands + clothes would look beautiful for a ladies Parlor. I see they even collor the paper but I cannot get the tar out. The Old Man says he intends to have me tar down the rigging a few days before we get in New Bedford so that I shall not forget too soon that I have been a sailor.”

General ships’ work  such as tarring could be messy, but a whaler’s work was even messier. When trying out blubber it was futile to attempt maintaining any semblance of cleanliness during the process. William Abbe of the Atkins Adams, 1859, said that during boiling, a watch would turn in to their bunks a few hours rest, merely ‘after wiping off your bare body with oakum to take off the thickest of the oil”.

But the gore and oil wasn’t forever. After the particular job was done the ship would be meticulously cleaned, and the whalers would tend to themselves too. As Herman Melville wrote,

“The crew themselves proceed to their own ablutions; shift themselves from top to toe; and finally issue to the immaculate deck, fresh and all aglow, as bridegrooms new-leaped from out the daintiest Holland. Now, with elated step, they pace the planks in twos and threes, and humorously discourse of parlors, sofas, carpets, and fine cambrics; propose to mat the deck; think of having hanging to the top; object not to taking tea by moonlight on the piazza of the forecastle. To hint to such musked mariners of oil, and bone, and blubber, were little short of audacity. They know not the thing you distantly allude to. Away, and bring us napkins!”

Haviland expressed gratitude in getting a chance to get clean after all the work of boiling blubber was done:

“I feel much better to day I have given myself a good wash + a clean shave + got in all clean clothes. You would not have known your own son if you could have seen him yesterday. I was nearly black with smoke + dirt. (with shame) I say it was the accumulation of 2 months dirt + 4 months beard. Everything looks as clean + bright as it did before we took the whale”

Being able to bathe was such a highlight that Abbe titled one of his journal pages “Washing myself!!” With TWO exclamation points!

“I write with pride in my fastidious journal that this morning I washed my face + hands with castile soap + fresh water — when shall I do the like again? When shall I write the pleasant and comfortable fact that I have shaved? The future and fair weather only can tell.”

The ship’s slop chest—its general store—had toiletries for sale, often at a very high premium. Whaling account books show men buying pounds of oil soap for their own personal stores. The fresh water was often rainwater collected for this purpose, rather than the casks set aside for drinking.

“This has been a rather squally day,” wrote Mary Lawrence, whaling wife who accompanied her husband on his ship Addison in the 1850s. “Considerable rain has fallen, and everybody on deck is using an abundant supply of rainwater for washing purposes.” She also added, though this is speaking of laundry rather than bathing, “Having stopped up the scuppers, the use the whole deck for one grand washtub.”

They’d use the sea, too. John Martin of the Lucy Ann, wrote of bathing via rain and sea whilst near the equator on January 24th, 1842.

“Towards noon the rain came down in torrents. The weather being sultry the watch on deck shipped off their shirts to it. John the boat steerer went entirely naked with the exception of a handkerchief tied around his privates. In the afternoon it cleared away, when I asked permission from the Captain for the crew to take a bathe over the side. He said we might do it if we rigged a studding sail over the side, which was soon done & all hands that could swim were to be seen jumping from different parts of the ship. Some went out to the end of the flying jib boom & jumped off there. Even the dog was thrown overboard & got his share of washing. I like bathing at sea but for one thing, and that is sharks. I always have a fear that one might be hovering about and give one a nip before he was aware of it.”

It was challenging for whalers to keep clean by nature of the job, but man when they were able to they really seemed to revel in it. For many of them it was more than just a bath; it was a symbolic return to a home they were long away from, or to the man they perceived themselves to be back on shore, or of a society that they felt cut off from in their line of work.

If you’re interested I also wrote a thing about doing laundry on whaleships too, yonder!

[lost-girl-2021]

Maybe you could describe Quaritch's pov of seeing Spider for the first time after so many years?

Warning: I’m terrible at writing POV’s from parents. Like, the closest I’ve come to a parental experience is when I was a babysitter (and that did not last long). So, I’ve done my best. Also, since it’s from his POV, I’m calling him Miles instead of Quaritch, since it’s his first name.

Miles Junior— or did he just go by Miles? MJ? Junior? —was more of a goal than a person over the years. He’d been so fucking tiny when he’d gone to prison.

It had been over a decade since he’d seen the boy. The first thing he wanted to do when he got out was go find him. And then, he’d find that bastard Sully and get payback for the years he’d spent locked up. He hadn’t really made a decision on how to do it— make an anonymous report to CPS? Maybe he’d find a way to make his wife think he was cheating? He couldn’t do anything too risky, but he’d fully intended on getting revenge for all the time he’d missed out on.

But, Junior came first. He’d done all the tedious work— parenting classes, a steady paycheck. The apartment he’d gotten in the city was looked over what felt like a half-dozen times. But, he’d done it all. He’d gotten a job as soon as he was out, working with half of his old squad as overglorified mall cops for this big company called the RDA. The pay was good, even if wasn’t allowed a weapon and most of it involved driving around scientists and vans full of equipment. It took an entire year, but his restrictions dropped the longer he was out of prison and every day felt like a step closer to Junior.

The day he finally got to see the kid? He was a fucking wreck. Sweaty, white-knuckling the steering wheel the whole drive over. He lived with a foster family right outside the city. The neighborhood was nice, but the house itself was plain. The grass overgrown, flowers dried out. Neglected. Miles kept drifting back to the tiny apartment Paz and him had in the city. All of it was boxed up and collecting dust in a storage locker, like it had been for years. And his kid had moved on without any of it.

He was trying to shake his nerves as he waited outside the door, taking in a deep breath. Miles, Miles, Miles— the kid was all he could think about. And then—

Jake fucking Sully stood in the doorway. Miles wanted to scream, to tackle him. He wanted to punch his way inside, see what the fuck was going on. Some kind of set up?

But, no, because halfway hidden behind a couch, there he was. Blond hair messier and longer than Miles had ever let his own grow, darker than it was when he was a baby. He was tiny— maybe it was the baggy clothes or the sheer amount of hair that made him seem so small.

Miles had been preparing for this day for years.

And then, as soon as he saw his kid?

He couldn’t even move. It was . . . it was indescribable. He could barely believe that this— this teenager was his baby. Miles had been staring at a picture of one-year-old Miles Junior (perfect, light curls, cheeks chubby and red) for over a decade.

His eyes were the same. Wide and brown and filled with curiosity.

His boy. His son.