#but yeah intimacy can take many forms!

[scintillatingshortgirl19]

wow i can't believe they were actually allowed to show gay sex onscreen in 2011

[zph]

EXPLORING THE 5 SENSES WITH SCARAMOUCHE. gn!reader | fluff

synopsis. a glimpse into your relationship with scaramouche through the 5 senses (touch, smell, hearing, taste, sight). series of ficlets.

content. suggestive in some parts (i.e. vague descriptions of making out) but mostly sfw, incredible amount of fluff, non-sexual intimacy, sillies in love, kissing, established relationship + pre-relationship for the last section (i.e. taste), scara is painting your bare back, nahida & scara have a family dynamic, modern au. not proofread.

a/n. happy (very belated) valentines’ day! wanted to explore scara in the late stages of a relationship + pre-relationship; more playfulness & more comfortable with himself. each section isn’t the same length but that's okay. enjoy :)

word count. 4.3k

masterlist

What does SCARAMOUCHE loving you look like in each of the 5 senses?

He can count a few specific times:

—

i. Sight. | PICTURES

Scaramouche has been acting strangely this entire week.

After being recruited (forced) into a photography club by a few of his classmates and the new club member, Nahida (under the name of “discovering more enrichment activities!”), his behavior has since seen an almost subtle but unexpected shift in change:

Click!

Case in point: You look towards your boyfriend: a camera in hand, and a small smile etched on his face. It was an endearing sight. Curiosity, you wrap your arms around his waist, looking over his shoulder. “What are you looking at?”

He didn’t miss a beat, quickly hiding the camera from your view as he retorts. “Posting on my story. What about it?”

You raised your eyebrow. “You hardly post on your account.”

“And what is so wrong with that? Here I thought you wanted me to post more.”

“Well, yeah.” You tucked your head in the crook of his neck. “But you are acting really funny.”

“That’s too bad, I think I’m hilarious.”

“Right.” You chuckled, way too focused on finding warmth in the fabric of his sweater. “At least take good pictures, yeah?”

You don’t take notice of the soft look in his eye as he stares at your relaxed form or the way his hand reaches for the camera once more, flicking up as he snickered.

Click!

You quickly snapped your head up, hearing his barely hidden laughter. But before you could ask, you feel his body freeing away from your arms, his warmth along with it. Instinctively, you reached out towards him. “What are you..?“

Unfortunately, Scaramouche was already taking off, putting some distance between you as he ran along with the camera in hand, sticking out his tongue as he did so.

You shook your head in disbelief. He can be so cute sometimes. And with a chuckle, you chased after him.

—

[Nahida🍀]

nahida🍀: Picture-taking is more fun than I expected! Did you take any photos yet? (*^ω^*)

scara👾: I did. But my model is being uncooperative right now

nahida🍀: What does that even mean?? Could I see?

scara👾: Do you really want to know?

nahida🍀: Why are you acting so suspicious (*_*)

scara👾: :p.

—

When Scaramouche feels around the wooden shelf, outstretched arm searching around, he finds himself wiping off the dust of a particular box.

He reaches out to uncover the top, filled with photographs, each a selection of nature, the exhibitions he has been on, Nahida and her unbridled curiosity for everything, and finally, ones of you.

He doesn’t concern himself too much in the past, finding it worthless to look back on memories that have come past. But these photographs he holds on to, it is a representation of something he couldn’t bear to let go.

It started with one photo of you relaxing, something mundane. Something not worth noting as he had seen this sight many times before.

But he couldn’t bring himself to part with the picture. An odd sense of warmth filled his chest. And soon, more and more popped into this box.

Each held something of importance, regardless of what the content was.

Maybe he had reached a point where he could innocently save pictures and not feel bitter. Perhaps he had reached a point where he treasured small moments such as these.

Digging out another picture from his pocket, he flips over the newest addition: You embracing his waist, head on his shoulder, looking as relaxed as you have ever been.

Again, that stupid warmth in his chest.

Maybe this time, he wants to keep it a moment longer.

At least there is something to look forward to whenever he is awake at god who knows what time, missing your warmth.

—

private account @/zushi2938849484 posted!

[attach photo]

@/zushi2938849484: Caught this one. I’ll be honest it is kind of cute when they try to be clingy. Just don’t tell them that though.

@/nahidasgarden: So this is what you have been doing! 💖

@/nahidasgarden: Also, why am I the only follower here? ^_^;;;;

Reply from @/zushi2938849484: Because you are oomf

—

i. Smell. | COOKING.

Saturday. 8:34 am.

“You are so clingy today,” Scaramouche grumbles as he leans back into your arms. The comfort of his pjs cushioned your weight as your head buries into his shoulder, almost melting in it. The sizzling of the pot lulls down a bit as you feel him reach to turn down the stove.

“Can you blame me?” With your nose pressed so close against the exposed skin, you can make out how he smelled of fresh laundry; the kind where it wasn’t too overbearing, something familiar. You missed this, you think.

No, you corrected: you missed him.

And you could tell, he missed you too. Especially because you could smell the barest hint of your body spray on his clothes. A sign of comfort for him (one that he doesn’t say out loud) but also a pride for you.

“…You smell different.” You begin, the edges of your lips rising.

“Are you saying I smell bad?”

“Well-“ You give him a look.

He quickly huffs, almost scooting out of your arms as he takes the majority of the warmth with him.

“Wait—No, I’m kidding.” You chuckled, tucking him closer and pressing one quick kiss on his jaw in apology. You could almost feel the subtle fond eye-roll he gives you. “Of course, you smell nice. But I didn’t know you could own a suspiciously similar spray to mine.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” He retorts, rather nonchalantly, despite how much of his body language—adverting his gaze away from yours in the act, the slightest lift of eyebrow in smug satisfaction—say otherwise.

So what if he did? What will you even do about it? It tells you.

Nothing, you smiled. Nothing at all.

The sizzle of the pot protests in response to your banter, drawing his attention from you and back to the dinner you were supposed to have later tonight.

While the dinner itself was nothing too fancy or pungent, it was a comfort food. Scaramouche had an eye for things that were easy to make and felt like home. Sentimentality and all, you found it endearing.

You watched as he shifted, stirring the pot.

The aroma was inviting, much like the way you nearly ease yourself into his shoulder, surrounded by the comfort of food and his warmth. The latter nulls you to a near-perfect ease, mixed with the breath he huffs out at your clinginess.

Again, can he really blame you?

“So, what are you making?”

A simple question.

One that you already knew the answer to. But you seldom mention it, not while you were already busy pressing your lips against his nape as you wait for his answer.

You hear a hitch.

“What are you..?” Then a breath of laughter. He shifts, carefully placing down the lid. “Guess.” He doesn’t move anywhere, but you can practically feel the snarkness radiating off of him. “You have three tries.”

You hummed. Good, he was indulging with you.

Your kisses got more bolder as you shifted from along his nape, then slowly to the exposed part of his shoulder, as courtesy of his loose clothing practically hanging off of him. Your first guess: “Ice cream?”

“Are you acting dumb on purpose?” He scoffed, the sound a little too restrained. Maybe he would make some excuse of how your heat was pressing against him despite how hot the kitchen was. Overheating via body heat was a real concern. But you knew better—knew him better. “2 more tries.” He whispers.

Chuckling a simple “Sure,” you press on.

On the second try, your hand gently encloses around his, spoon still in his hand.

Watching his eyes flit down to your interwoven fingers wrapped in his, you can’t help but laugh at how his curiosity spreads across his expression. What are you doing? His gaze spoke.

He didn’t have to wonder for too long, however.

Not when you suddenly lifted his hand, bringing the spoon to his lower lip.

His eyes haven’t shifted from yours, not one bit, even while his lips slowly parted to make room for the spoon. Delight sparks your stomach as you watch his mouth seal around it, willingly and almost challengingly.

You stilled. This was a beautiful sight.

The morning looked right on him, bathed in the warm golden. Sunkissed practically. It highlighted many of his features: the curve of his nose scrunching just enough, the red eyeliner he dutifully wears, and the softness—the tense softness that was his gaze. He wasn’t too fazed by your admiration, in fact, he was practically glowing in your attention.

“So, not sweet.” You grinned, pointing out the fact that his face would have scrunched in disgust had the food been anything too sweet. “Ramen?” You breathed in.

You are further reminded of the body spray that surrounds his body; it is practically coming off of his wrist.

As if it was instinctive, your lips found their way to his hands, down to his wrist, confirming your suspicions: he sprayed this a few times. It was stronger here. A testimony to how much he wanted to be reminded of you.

“Hah, one last try.” This time, he shook his head. Chilled fingers reached your face as he slowly brought it up to his. Impatience in his movements. “Do you want a hint or something?”

The way both of your breaths now mingling in with each other spoke of many things, despite no words uttering out from your lips. It was sort of like a genie’s wish. You wouldn’t dare to waste this last and final moment.

And so, you wished. You wished with how your hands eagerly pull him closer, wished with how he smells like home, the scent urging you to say something.

“Yes.” Just as quickly as you spoke, you felt his lips pressed against yours.

Everything was enveloping around you; everything that makes up him was engulfing your senses. The shampoo that he insists on using (if you had to pinpoint it, it smells like nature? You weren’t too sure), the fresh scent of laundry (It reminded you that you were living with him. Successfully and contently emerged with his life, tasks like laundry included), and finally….

Finally, the smell of tea—his favorite. It was a classic move from him: to share something of his with you. You remember how he offered it once when you were sick, muttering out about a kid he once babysat was in a similar condition and found a liking to this recipe. It drew a familiar warmth in your chest; the heat of the tea mixed in with his laughter.

You twisted your head up at him, pulling away and wiping the remaining bits of tea off your lips. You smile. “Shimi Chazuke.”

—

…

He exhaled, prying you off with a pointed look. “Could you,”

You immediately nod, like the love-sick fool you are.

He offered you a gesture to the tea, then leaned in as if he was going in for another kiss. Instead, he snickers as you open your eyes: “Get out of the kitchen? I need to cook.”

You laugh.

Well, how could you say no?

—

i. Hearing. | PHONE CALLS

Ding!

Ding!

Ding-

[1:34 AM] You rub your eyes as you sneak a quick look at your phone: who the hell is calling at this time?

‘Kuni🤍’ bold on the screen brightens up your face.

Kuni🤍: Call me

You: Did something happen

Like clockwork and the sanity of a deep lovesick partner, your finger immediately hit the call and snuck the phone close to your ear.

“Hello?”

You hear breathing from the other side then a low rasp, wry in his tone. “Good morning Sleepy head.”

“Scara, it is 1 in the morning. Something up?” And you knew something was bothering him if he was awake at this hour.

There was a pause before shuffling emerged from your speaker: he was adjusting his chair.

“Finishing this thesis. Wanted someone to bother.”

His voice had an unmistakable thickness, evident of the exhaustion that had struck his body and made its way to his throat.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He sighed, the noise so soft that you had to crane your phone closer just to hear. You expected his typical lectures—ones ranging from the gossip of his coworkers’ drama, peer reviews of essays that he describes as ‘nonsensical’, and random history lessons—he sometimes liked to teach you quite a few of them too.

In fact, you became privy to many aspects of his life; a privilege from being in a relationship with him you suppose. It surprised you how much he liked to talk, despite being no fan of chatty people or mindless conversations. It was endearing, to say the least.

So, it surprised you even more when none of that reached your ears. Instead, he mutters simply, not his usual snark:

“I didn’t see you today.” I missed you.

…

You had to do a double-take just to check if you heard that correctly. Yet there was no other comment besides the slight hitch in his voice followed by the sound of computer keys clicking and more scuffling from the other side of the line.

“I missed you too.” You finally admitted, chuckling as if you were in on a secret between you two. “Sorry, I was kept busy the entire day. You alright?”

He doesn’t give you much of anything. Instead, you just hear more shuffling. “You weren’t there to bother me. Did you suddenly disappear or something?” He finally laughs, after a pause. “….Just tell me about your day. Anything. What kept your attention?”

You blink. Nonetheless, complied with his demand. After all, if he was asking so honestly, could you really say no?

It was easy to fall into listing your schedule—anything about the errands you had today, your classes, mornings—anything you could list off the top of your head.

He responded to a few, little laughs and scoffs here and there towards some of your commentary, but seldom cut in, satisfied simply with listening. Slowly, the side comments died into mumbles, an effort to respond but not quite lucid enough to be comprehensible.

“You know, you should go to sleep.”

He mumbled. “No.”

But then you heard it. A soft puff erupted into the microphone.

“Scaramouche?” You waited a few more seconds to confirm your suspicions. Another puff.

He was sleeping.

“Cute.” You whispered. You couldn’t help the smile that spread on your lips. Did he really call you because he couldn’t sleep? You knew he liked his alone time but it was nice to know at least he wanted you to accompany him in some sort of way. “Goodnight, Scara.”

—

The following day, another ding emerged from your phone; another notification from Scara:

Kuni🤍: Thank you

—

i. Touch. | SKIN TO SKIN

“Pftt, relax.”

“I’m trying to.“ The brush presses against your back, the soft edges leaving a cool chill over your skin. “But your brush-“ you shiver as he puts another coat of body paint. “-is cold.”

With the brush strokes along your spine, you feel his breath fanning along with the hum of his voice.

“A little cold can’t hurt, right? Don’t tell me that bothers you?” He knows exactly what he is doing, especially with the way his legs are slotted around your waist, laughing as if he doesn’t realize how much of an effect he has. “I’m almost done, hold on.”

You laid still, your arms folded under you as you steadied breathing. “Once I do this to you, then you’ll see how damn cold it is,” it comes out more breathless than a sly retort. You hear the echos of a poorly hidden snicker, his finger playfully tapping your shoulder.

“Sure. Maybe I should make this as slow as possible, just for you.” The smile in his voice becomes more evident as he mercilessly presses more of the brush.

“How incredibly nice, Scara.” You huff.

Now, the bristles run downwards—more deliberately this time, clearly relishing in the trust you hold for him and also teasing you in the process as you remain pliant under his touch.

“Didn’t you ask for this? I thought you would be more enthusiastic about me being up here.”

Clearly, you had meant to be more enthusiastic about this. You’ve seen it online on a forum somewhere: Intimacy in the form of body painting along with someone who you trust the most. It was a brilliant idea, you decided.

You remember bringing it up to him late at night, arms sprawled across his waist and his head resting on your shoulder. You shift a little, and inched your phone towards him.

He was cute, his eyes squinting at the screen, furrowing his brows as he tried to make out the picture. “Couple body painting?” he mutters, then, with the simple turn of his head, more interested in getting his sleep, he yawns out. “Do what you want.”

It didn’t take that long to convince him you suppose. Chuckling, you tucked him closer with a blanket, the latter of which takes it with a simple nudge in your direction. Cheers blooming in your mind: First step of the mission! You got his approval! Or well, sort of.

The next day, you both went out for a store run.

Store runs with him are almost constant. He keeps a list, beautiful calligraphy with notes on the margins, telling you how much you might need for the week: detergent, water, along with the indulgent snacks you both enjoyed.

With supplies stocked up in the cart and his attention fixed on the list he made, you made a quick detour to the art supply section.

You grip on the tube of neon, glow-in-the-dark body paint, mischievous rolling off of you in waves. The thought that you were able to not only admire him but create art on his skin was a pleasant thought.

So, when you finally got back to the cart, you were met with an eyebrow raise and a shake of his head.

“Where did you go?”

“To get these.”

He didn’t seem as invested in the idea as you were, more rather focused on finishing this shopping trip and finally relaxing. But it didn’t take long before he was.

—

“You are having way too much fun with this, you know?”

In truth, you may have overestimated Scaramouche’s potential for teasing. Once he realizes how much power he has over you, it becomes clear: he was the one to take it and run with it tenfold.

“Of course, I am.” Quick to respond, he leans in more closely, the tickling of his nose against your skin.

The rest of the room was dimmed, and the lack of what he was doing was catching up to you—more aware of what you feel instead. Once the sense of sight is gone, the rest of your senses are heightened dramatically. Every twitch he makes, every laugh that escapes him, you are anticipating his next move and trying to figure out what the hell he is thinking.

And unfortunately, with the quick hitch of his breath sending down shivers through your spine, the rest of your body jolts along with it. He snickers in response, his breath ever so present on your skin.

Fuck.

Then, just when you least expect it. You feel a touch of warmth pressing against your back—

His lips.

You feel how he trails down, chilled fingers pressed against your back while his lips warm up and swallow each laugh that vibrates along your body.

It was no doubt cheeky and it was agonizing long.

And you were indulging in every single bit of it.

“Now, stay still.” His lips curled up against your shoulder, letting go with a quick pop.

You huff lightly. “Of course, of course, your Highness.”

You will get him back for this. But for now, you were humming along as he takes his fill at all your reactions, lingering and kneading; a canvas in his hands and art marking his affections.

Yeah, you will definitely get him back.

—

i. Taste. | VALENTINES’ DAY CHOCOLATE.

You think you found your favorite taste.

Unhurriedly, you cradle the heart-shaped packaging to your lips, popping it into your mouth as you let the contents melt away. Chocolate spreads on your tongue and the bitterness fills your taste buds.

You almost want to gasp at the shock, if it wasn’t for the way Scaramouche’s hand locks with yours, savoring your warmth just as you try to savor the treat. It was new but it was not unwelcome.

You tug at his hand. It feels soft somehow, well taken care of. His slender fingers easily intertwine around yours, tightening slightly as you moved along, almost guiding you closer.

And what was worse? It feels almost needy the way he inches impossibly closer. You feel his arms wrapping around your neck, tracing along your skin as if he were afraid you would let go.

You try to grip at your senses, trying to remember what had happened before this.

—

The memory of your best friend sitting beside you engulfed with bags hanging off his arms, notes littered around, chocolate-covered treats, and small plushies of all species packed loosely with bows—All were forwarded lovingly to him from his peers.

You remember laughing at him, stealing one of his chocolate bars from the bags, and chewing along the sides.

“Too bad you don’t like sweets, these are really good,” you mumbled.

And you swore his eyes followed the movement. Pausing for a quick fleeting moment before a flash of mischief struck his face.

The last bits of his rant fade away from his tongue. The absurd amount of confession letters, gifts of flowers at his workplace, and more importantly, the handbags given by classmates by his campus, now situated on your arms turned from points of irritation to something else entirely.

“Come here.” He leaned in.

You remember him sticking his tongue out, the last of his irritation melting away. Then as the sheets shriveled, he proceeds to quickly steal the bag of chocolate from your fingers.

“—Hey wait!”

You recall laughing. Echoes of laughter are reflected in the way you chase after him, tugging at his shirt to snatch it rightfully back until you both are a heaping mess on the floor, legs tangled and breaths so close.

You remember having a good look at his appearance. The smudge of his eyeliner—the crimson that is usually lining his eyes now smeared just a bit and a similar red brightening his cheeks as he laughed—something only you were akin to—tugging at his lips.

At that moment, you couldn’t help but think that he was beautiful. Unfathomably so.

And a part of you wondered, dangerously: What would it be like to smug the red on his lips?

You remember the slow heavy breaths you took, hands pinned right against his head, and the slow realization that you might want just to kiss your longtime friend. You weren’t meant to be this close. Especially not in an uncompromising position like this.

Peering down at him, your brain dizzying as you met his eyes, staring up at you: the last fit of his laughter dying down as he also came to the same conclusion.

A snort escaped him.

And you couldn’t help but trace the way his lips looked. Red looked good on him; happiness, even if cheeky, looked good on him.

“What are you going to do now?” he whispers. There was a hint of uncertainty mixed with his usual sarcasm.

You remember stalling, weighing down the options to pass it off as a joke, something to keep as a memory as you mourn what could have been.

Or take your chances. The fact he wasn’t pushing you off spoke more than you couldn’t imagine. Maybe, for a brief moment, he was anticipating the same, watching your move just as you have been doing to him.

You breathed out, hoping to give him a way out should you have read him wrong. “Look, if you are uncomfortable, you can just push me off-“

Red was the look that flashes when he looks away, clearly frustrated that you aren’t reading his mind or body language, cutting you off with a swift, “I never said that.”

“So…” You couldn’t help but lean closer, your resolve waning once his eyes captured yours, the same electricity igniting in his gaze, challenging you.

“What does it look like I want?” His gaze was pulling you down with him as his voice dropped to a whisper, vulnerable. Like the obvious choice is right in front of you and yet, he waits, becoming more and more impatient with your hesitation.

You felt like melting.

The touches started slow, a blend of teasing that you were used to and other charted untouched territory as his hands lifted to meet your cheek, a new gentleness in his grip like a question waiting to be answered.

You nudged, closing the gap, answering tentatively.

The cards were long forgotten, the gifts were the least of your concerns—and yet, words were not enough to describe the feeling of your heart pounding against your chest.

Melting.

He tasted like familiarity: The shared mix of dark chocolate.

Though he claims to hate the sensation of sticky treats, the overt sweetness too much on his gums; each time you pulled away, he chased after your lips once again. Like a rush forced upon him, now an addict chasing his fix. And he glares when you halt his pursuit, tugging him back to finally look at his appearance.

Bitterness was the taste he was familiar with.

But with the way his hair ruffled a mess, lips swollen, shirt disheveled, and eyes practically dripping with intensity: you couldn’t help but think that it left a sweet aftertaste. Nothing overbearing but enough to be memorable.

“…You taste like chocolate.” He breathed out.

Your chest swelled. He doesn’t seem to mind the flavor. Your finger nudged another chocolate against his lips, slowly returning to the warm press of his kiss as if starved once again. “Happy Valentine’s Day Scaramouche.”

You found your favorite taste and you would be a fool not to savor it. 

[mintmatcha]

Fatgum form smut pleaseeeeeeeee 🤲🏼 I just want them to love each other and bang

His fat form is good for many things. It's good for his job, obviously. It's good for combat and his brand, good for making him seem more approachable-

It's not good for intimacy.

Tai keeps the light off, as if that makes it any better. That way, he can't see your face when he sits down next to you on the couch. Surprisingly, you're quick to throw a leg over him, straddling his lap with wide legs.

"This is what you've been hiding from me?" you tease. Your touch is so liberal; you give it so easily, so much. Everything about you is pressing and touching and-

A hand on your hip to keep you apart for him.

"I know it's not..." he trails off. It's not a lot of things. The though won't form; his skin is buzzing too loud.

"I like you like this." You cup his cheeks in your hands, head tilted with an abundance of affection and a hint of mischief. "I like a big boy."

But Taishiro can't shake off the feeling that you're lying.

"It's okay." He laughs this time. "I know I'm not-- I know I'm not attractive like this."

He can feel your weight shift as you tilt your head to the other side, watching him in the dark.

"Give me your hand."

Both of your hands fit into his. Easily, you guide it to your mouth and kiss each knuckle, slowly, unrushed, each touch a love letter in itself. It's tender. So tender tgat he gives into you, lets you moce him how you need him.

Then, you drag it to your cheek, down your neck, all the way to the top of your collarbone. He almost pulls away on instinct, but your grip is firm and trustworthy. The give of your breast shocks the breath out of him, especially when you close your hands around his and force him to squeeze.

"Oh," he manages. He's never fully allowed himself this, never allowed himself to touch you, but now you make him. He's caressing your stomach, fumbling with your shirt--

Oh.

Oh.

His hand is suddenly down the front of your pants. Your panties are soft and lacey, but you don't give him time to admire that. No, you're pushing him lower, until his thick fingers are pressing between your folds-

"Tai," you whisper, right into the shell of his ear. "Am I wet?"

"Y-yeah."

Your hips roll into the palm of his hand and he's amazed at how your excitement slips between his fingers.

"Am I wet for you?"

His breath gets caught in his throat. "Yeah."

Your laugh goes so deep that it's almost a purr. Throwing an arm around his neck, your hips move again, this time more securely. It happens again, then again, then again, and your head dips low into the crook of his neck.

"Mm," your voice is buttery with want. "Yeah, I am."

It takes him a while to cut through the static thats built on in his brain and realize what you're doing. You're masturbating. You're masturbating using his hand.

"I'm so wet for you." Your body presses closer to his torso. "I want your fingers."

Oh, he should move, but he's just so gobsmacked that he can't. This has to be a dream, a hallucination-

"I want your cock."

Your tone tips up, wobbly and tender and ugly in the most delicious way, the way that makes his ribs open with want-

When you cum, it's with a garbled tone. If he weren't touching you, feeling how your pussy twitches and pulls and wets, he'd think you were lying to him, protecting his ego.

But, instead you chuckle, right into the shell of his ear.

"That's how bad I want you."

[sh1-n0bu]

what punishment do you think suits for blade bcus he won't come home to me?

♡︎ 𝙥𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 ♡︎

characters: sub!blade x gn!dom!reader

warnings: slapping, edging, squirting, mentions of handjob, bondage, degrading, dacryphilia, begging, mentions of cock slapping, masochist bladie, forced self praise and praise, slight fluff and angst if you squint, reader’s a bit mean but it’s deserved😤 also ig this is a bit of a self aware AU as well???? yeah, ig u guys could read it as a self aware AU if ur into it

notes: sorry for replying too fast anon. my period is making me horknee😔 this is more like a headcannon of what i think would be a perfect punishment for blade

DEGRADING

listen listen listen, i know this may sound a bit weird but blade hates being degraded when with you. there’s a reason why he gives off wet, pathetic, soggy cat that’s abandoned at the side of the street vibes and because of that, blade loves to be praised instead. especially since you're his lover, his darling, his sweetheart, his one and only and the only one he would do absolutely anything and everything for without even thinking. because of that, blade wants to be praised. he wants to be a good boy for you, he wants to be your sweet baby, not your dirty slut. he thinks you’re being so mean to him :((

SLAPPING

now this can be taken in many concepts. he could be begging on his knees in front of you, hands clinging to the fabrics of your clothes as hazy, teary red eyes stare at you. chewed on lips spurring out apologies after apologies like a broken record. you could slap him across the face to make him shut up, its fine since blade can handle it. besides he’s a bit of a masochist as well so he would definitely let out a whimper and rub his thighs together to get some relief on his poor hardened cock

but if it's in other places such as slapping his ass as a form of punishment, slapping his thighs until the skin is all red and sensitive or even his hard cock leaking pre all over his stomach — either way, blade would be turned into a brainless sweetheart in no time. tears falling from his eyes as he begs for you to just touch him!! touch him properly please? he’s a good boy. he’ll be a good boy, he even promises!

EDGING

blade loves being overstimulated. its one of his favorite kinks. whether it be cumming over and over and over by your hand stroking his angry cock, fingering his ass and creating filthy squelching sounds or into your mouth or hell, even riding your thighs! he loves to be close to you, after years of loneliness and isolation, blade craves intimacy. he craves that close contact, to feel the warmth of your bare skin touching his own. even better when he’s crying and sobbing from cumming into your hand for the nth time that night, blabbering drunken shit as he squirts again. but when its taken away???? when he’s so close to reaching his high and stumbling over the edge, when his hard cock is ready to paint your hands with his sticky liquid and you take it away from him????? getting your hand off of his cock and leaving him aching and whining, desperately chasing after your hand with sobbing pleas? blade thinks you’re being real mean to him :((( please just let him cum, let him cum even on the sheets if you want! he won’t soil your hand, he just wants to cum so bad and his poor cock hurts so much :((

BONDAGE

this one is almost all of the time paired with the edging one. as i've said before, blade craves intimacy, he loves being close to you physically. he loves you so fucking much, way too much to the point it hurts to even be away from you even for a little bit. there's a reason why blade chose to be close to you, a reason why he decided to open up his heart to someone else again to give another shot at life and because of that he loves you and trust you so much. you're literally the reason he realized perhaps living wouldn't be so bad after all because he has you by his side, he can go another day, another month, another year, another life-time if it means he would get to spend every waking and even sleeping moment beside you. blade loves to be physically close to you so when you take it away from him, when you tie his hands behind his back or even tie his wrists up to the bedframe, he's doing everything to break those stupid cuffs or ropes. he wants to feel you!! it doesn't even have to be in the sexual way, it can just be in a literal way. holding hands, his palm flat against your back, feeling your skin, being reminded of your warmth. but if you take it away, he's a mess. but don't worry everything is consensual of courses, and you always make sure to take care of him and the bruises afterwards. one of the most effective ways to punish him, me thinks

honorary mention: FORCED SELF PRAISE

it might come of as a bit off or out of place since i did mention that one of the suited punishments for blade would be degrading and praise is the absolute opposite for that but hEAR ME OUT!!!! blade is self conscious of his body. and i meant his scars specifically. he finds them hideous, like how can someone like you could ever find him pretty or gorgeous or all those words you praise him with? he finds it ridiculous. his body is nothing but just a meaningless weapon by now, covered with scars and phantom pains that don't go away and yet you find it so beautiful. you even make sure to make him understand that he is indeed beautiful as you place kisses on each and every last one of the scars that he bears

now this!!!! is where the forced self praise comes in. it doesn't even have to be sexual or as a form of punishment. you could just be doing your everyday ritual of praising the ever loving shit out of him with blade sitting all pretty with a cute red dusting his cheeks. he would always weakly try to refuse your praises, saying that he wasn't the most handsome man in the galaxy and that was why he was wanted and instead always offering logical answers. just accept the damn praise blade >:(((( this is where it comes in. you can softly coax him to say self assuring things. it can start out small like "i did a good job on the mission the other day", "i make a delicious pancake this morning", "i always how to make hot chocolate to cheer up my beloved" and it can range to the things that he insistently denies. make him say that he's pretty, that he's gorgeous, that his hair is long and elegant, that he's an amazing lover, how he was wanted across all galaxies because he was just so charming and dashing and amazi - okay, now his brain is way too fried with the compliments and in his desperation, he's shutting you up with a kiss. he's so adorable :333

[beannoss]

Something I think about a lot and wonder if maybe gets overlooked in Twilight’s story and as vitally indicative of his character is actually in the very first chapter:

Anya isn’t needed for Strix. Twilight decides to adopt her anyway.

[Spoiler warning: Mostly this post deals with early chapters already in the anime but there is reference to chapter 62, which has not yet been animated and will be in season 3]

Twilight decides it — “I’m going to rework the mission so it doesn’t involve a child because that’s too dangerous” and he’s 100% right! Donovan Desmond is canonically a far right warmonger with fascistic authoritarian aims. His government made liberal use of the SSS — a group to mirror the Stasi — who continue to operate in morally dubious ways (much more likely they’re actively morally reprehensible, though we’ve mostly only had rumours of that so far). From what we can tell, Desmond is at best an absent father and likely actually worse than that: if that's how he treats his own children, imagine how he might treat others. And the timeline seems to indicate that the experimentation performed on Anya was done under Desmond's government — even if Twilight isn't aware of experimentation on children, he is aware of both human and animal experimentation under Desmond's government. Taking all that and also the complexity of Strix's aims, undoubtedly there were other things that could be done, more straightforward if not necessarily easier.

So. Why? Why entertain the change at all? And then, having entertained it, why go back when the reasoning is indisputable?

On the Doylist level, I think Endo wanted to ensure that Anya had some agency within the set up — Endo also does this with Yor. It would be much harder to be on Twilight’s side fully, or to trust him on an ethical level/take him as any sort of moral authority, if he were just straightforwardly using these two people. To have them be active and consenting participants (arguably to actually be affirming the arrangement: Twilight sets it up, but Anya and Yor actually make it happen) even if the audience only knows the depth of their knowledge/motivations/etc currently, shifts the power dynamic in important ways.

But it also the set up tells us important things about Twilight. He is largely impatient, cold, detached in chapter one. His overarching feelings towards Anya are, I think, real annoyance, real confusion, and real impatience. He just doesn’t understand this damn kid and it turns out she’s a person which is frankly unacceptable — he’d needed and anticipated an automaton, ideally of himself in miniature form. (Though I think one could ponder whether Twilight was, in many ways, an automaton himself at this point, but that's maybe for another meta 🙃)

He’s not entirely unmoved of course — we're given to understand he’s affected when Franky tells him how many times Anya’s been adopted and returned, and isn't amused by Franky's joke about names. Franky's comment — "Just don't get attached" — reinforces this. The prospect of “the future” perturbs Twilight when he’s reading the parenting books. His initial reaction to Anya’s kidnap is horror. All these are true too.

Then there’s also this, from earlier in the chapter:

It’s exposition, yeah, and it’s also exposing. "Hopes" and "joys" are very specific words to describe those events. It could simply have been "A marriage? An ordinary life?" but describing them as such — hope for marriage; joy in ordinary life — expose something of what Twilight feels about those two experiences and, on the flipside, they expose what he deems he's lacking. No hopes of intimacy; no joy in (an ordinary) life. There's an argument as well, of course, that he's being ironic but I don't think that actually invalidates the above analysis. Drawing attention to 'hope' and 'joy' at all are revealing, regardless of Twilight's tone in thinking of them. I think it's also interesting this panel, taken in conjunction with a pair of panels in chapter 62, Twilight's backstory. The above is almost a pulled out version of this below panel of Twilight's recollection of his childhood, and of course the returning image of not just a rubbish bin but a rubbish bin on fire when it comes to disposing of his identity:

Back to Strix. Both his final interaction with Karen and the whole everything of the framing of Strix is making Twilight think (and feel, ahem) things that he hasn't for some time. Twilight decides, I’m reworking this. It can’t proceed this way. Not because Anya is a pain in his ass, not because she’s not as (apparently) intellectually advanced as he’d originally thought, not even because he thinks he can find another child who would better be exactly what mission parameters called for. No:

And what changes his mind is Anya asking to come home.

One of the important parts of this to me is this:

He seeks consent.

This moment is a keystone, I think, to understanding Twilight. It’s also more telling than he maybe realises. Twilight is decisive — we all laugh because he spirals at the drop of a hat when his daughter or wife look even mildly upset but outside those (also very telling) scenarios, he makes decisions and he pursues them. Often he makes decisions quickly. He’s a dab hand at it; it’s a large part of why he’s as good a spy as he is.

He’d decided to change Strix.

Anya asks him, in essence, not to.

So, he doesn't.

But it's wild that he entertains keeping her request at all — why? Why even entertain it? It’s dangerous; it’s impractical; there are too many moving parts outside his direct control; Anya isn’t the sort of child he’d wanted for the mission if he’d spent any time thinking about what a child might actually be like; Strix is in many ways an extremely long shot anyway, Desmond could just stop attending for reasons unknown and unrelated; etc.

So, yeah, why? Maybe because of this —

In conjunction, I often think of this moment in the cruise arc:

Twilight first naming the feeling as lonesome, and secondly tacitly conceding that he perceives Yor as a companion and that that relationship is important to him, something to be missed. What makes this for me though is that Anya calls this out "Papa's you're so sappy" and Twilight's reaction is that of someone caught-out. He doesn’t say “nuh-uh!” but he may as well have. Essentially, something landed a bit close to home, hm? Maybe some of that hope for marriage? A soupçon of joy of an ordinary life?

Twilight’s loneliness underpins many of his decisions with his family — probably without him being fully conscious of it. I think he is at least somewhat conscious of it, but also if he looks too closely... Well, best not to. I could fill this post, I think, with images that demonstrate his loneliness throughout the series; that sorrowful/pensive close-up of his eye(s) is one of the abiding motifs for Twilight throughout. I'd probably start with this one from Twilight's backstory arc:

Anya's request plays directly off his loneliness. Still though, he doesn’t immediately capitulate — he emphasises Anya’s choice. Is she sure? The last day has been scary for a child (and for him, but he's ignoring that part) and Twilight, in his increasing recognition that Anya is a person, is probably aware in the back of his mind that he hasn’t exactly been warm or welcoming or at all patient with her. Things that people respond to — he's otherwise excellent at manipulating people, so of course he understands this. So. Given she'd just had this scary experience, given he hasn't exactly been great with her: Is she sure? She wants to come home — with him?

I think the moment may get a little lost because Anya says something riffing off his own earlier thoughts and self-revelation (featuring that shadowed, lonely eye motif again!)

Were this a post about Anya, I’d talk about how it’s an important character moment for her as well by way both of demonstrating her agency/choice and also that she isn’t nearly as dumb as Twilight thinks (and the audience, maybe, also thinks).

But in my view, she didn’t actually need to say anything about it making her cry. I think she could simply have said yes in that moment and Twilight would have agreed.

Twilight’s an unreliable narrator; he’s disconnected from his heart and that shrouds his own motivations from himself — something he actually also concedes in this chapter!

And it shrouds from us just how much he actually understands himself. He’s also a master of deflection. Easy to assume or say that bringing Anya home is just to align with Strix. Nothing more to see here; nothing else going on. But also that ripping off of the mask in the panel above — and the literal 'riiip' sound effects — also indicate to us that this is an unveiling to himself.

In my view, Twilight agreeing to Anya's request, deciding to go back to original mission parameters, actually shifts his motivations, subtly. Now he’s committed not only to the original mission goals, but also to Anya. He needs Anya to succeed at Strix, not only for Strix's sake, but also because otherwise the mission will end and she’ll have to go back to the orphanage, and he’s just agreed with her not to do that (not right away, in any case). I don’t think at this point he’s thinking it’s forever — his thoughts throughout the manga indicate he still expects the Forgers to be temporary. I don't think the shift in motivation is necessarily even conscious, but given the set up, I think something inside Twilight recognises that agreeing to bring Anya home is a compact, jointly engaged. Mostly all this has become subsumed into Strix: he makes decisions. He pursues them. He deflects, even from himself. Of course it's just for the mission; this saved him the trouble of reworking it, of figuring out something else. Nothing more to see; no need to think any more on it. And to be fair to him, Strix is very high stakes, resting pretty solely on his shoulders, so of course that is, objectively, motivation enough. Why even consider beyond that?

But I personally think that to the extent he's aware of it at all, there is something else going on, that he wants to have Anya for as long as it takes him to work something else out for her. If that's the case, then of course, we have Occam’s razor: the simplest solution may be the best one.

Maybe Twilight should just keep Anya himself, eh?

[Image description: gif from Spy x Family season 1, episode 1. Twilight and Anya have just found out Anya passed her entrance exam and are overjoyed. Celebratory, Twilight picks Anya up and swoops her into the air as they smile at one another. End image description]

[fbfh]

tristin dugray relationship and intimacy hcs pt 2

wc: 1.1k

pairing: tristin x (implied fem) reader

genre: straight up smut with some mild feelings

warnings: brief mention of exhibitionism, debriefing with madison and louise, aftercare, cuddles, car sex, sex in a variety of places, cockwarming, nudes, brief mention of oral (m recieving)

song rec: mary - alex g (bc this is literally tristin's song. it's so fucking tristin coded.)

a/n: so good news I think my adhd medication is finally working lol

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280

As with all nsfw works all characters are aged up to 18+

WITHOUT FURTHER ADIEU MORE TRISTIN SMUT BC I’M FOAMING AT THE FUCKING MOUTH

What’s fun about Tristin

Among many other things

Is his fixation with your hips

Seriously it was one of the first things this horny motherfucker noticed about you

Whenever you wear anything mildly form fitting he can’t take his goddamn eyes off your hips

Once you’re together it’s basically impossible for him to resist touching them

Sometimes it’s a playful squeeze

Or an affectionate rub

Other times it’s full on groping while he shoves his tongue into your mouth and makes you grind against his thigh

He could live like that for days and not get tired

Speaking of

Tristin has fucking stamina for DAYS

“Men can’t have multiple orgasms” tell that to him!!!!!!!!

He just… has a fixation with all of you honestly

Like there’s no part of you that he’s not going to eye the fuck up 

You know the looks he’s always giving Rory???? 

That’s just the tip of the iceberg babe

Or should I say tip of the penis lol

Anyway 

Tristin is vocal as FUCK

Like mans can’t shut up

Even when we’ve reached the previously mentioned dumbfucking point, he’s still going to be whining and grunting and panting nonstop

His moans have you gushing like niagara falls tbh 

There is a zero percent chance he’s not going to give you the most affectionate aftercare every time too

So much praise and kisses and cuddles

Like he’ll genuinely get upset if you try to just bounce afterwards

Or worse

If he wakes up the next morning and you’re not there

Maybe he could handle casual hookups with other girls

But not with you

He will absolutely pull you back into bed and demand kisses and cuddles

I’m not gonna lie

He does have a little bit of an exhibitionist streak

Just a tiny itty bitty one

Mostly just from the urge to prove that you’re his when other guys keep flirting with you

If the circumstances were right and you were down, he would be happy to put on a show for them, show them how good he treats you

If you’re still friends with madison and louise/go to the same college as them they will BEG you for details and live vicariously through you

The line where they saw Tristin and Summer making out in front of Rory’s locker and one of them (I forget which one) was like “if you’re dating Tristin you have the right to make out anywhere and everywhere”

…

Yeah

They will literally grill details out of you

Whatever they can get

And the way they look at him after

The little sighs and head tilts and staring off into space thinking about what you told them, letting their imaginations go wild

It would make you jealous

If you didn’t know how much he likes you

But yeah there’s no one that can take you away from Tristin 

He loves you

And he loves keeping things fresh and spicy and exciting

He absolutley fucks you in his car a lot

Like a lot lot 

There’s at least a few pairs of your panties that you’ve lost somewhere in the fancy leather seats

He’ll also happily fuck you in your car

And every room and surface of your apartment

And your apartment hallway

And in an elevator once 

And public bathrooms

And your bathroom

And pretty much anywhere he thinks yall can get away with

Seriously this boy is such a slut but he’s only a slut for you

You light him on fucking fire and he can’t cope

He needs you biblically,, like in a way that’s concerning to feminism.

You can tell how he feels just from the way he looks at you 

And it’s obvious as shit to everyone else too

Like literally everyone

He eye fucks you a lot lot lot

GOD this boy can seduce you so fast

He moans so loud for you too

Tristin will really give you a good show

He wants to impress you

Wants you to need him

(cough cough praise kink)

He wants to breathe the same air as you

He wants to wrap you up so tight in his arms that it feels like you’re merging into one person

Tristin is the “cuddling isn’t enough I need to climb inside your skin” kinda clingy

Solution is cockwarming

Which you both love a lot

Once he realizes cockwarming is an option????? 

It slowly increases in frequency

There’s a good chance you won’t be able to sleep without it at some point

Seriously he will hold you tight and rub your back and touch your soft skin and tell you all the lovey dovey things he feels about you

Most of it is lovey dovey

But don’t let that fool you 

He is the CEO of both his family company AND dirty thoughts about you

Seriously he’s set off so easily by you

9 times out of 10 he’s probably fantasizing about you

Remembering your touch

How you feel around him

God he can’t wait to get his hands on you again

Let me tell you

Tristin is a motherfucking MENACE when it comes to sexting

He will have you blushing over the phone in ways you didn’t know you could blush

He’s so shameless about it too

If you send him nudes??????

He will literally die

And he’ll happily, happily return the favor

Once he realizes how you react when he sends you nudes?????

He never wants to stop

He literally loves getting you all feral and worked up over him

Don’t let Madison and Louise find out Tristin sends you nudes or else they will steal your phone and make a copy of your fingerprint with sticky tape and face powder just to access them /hj

Speaking of going feral

Tristin’s happy trail?????????

Are we gonna talk about it??????

Are we gonna talk about how you want to fucking bite him and deep throat him until you memorize every vein whenever you see his lil happy trail????

Because you will

You’ll definitely want to

Okay putting myself down now lol

I need his cock immediately

Constantly covered in hickeys and unable to walk and he loves it so much

He loves when you need him and he loves fucking you so good that you’re out of commission the next day

It’s what you deserve

You think he’s a menace now???

God help you when he gets baby fever

[eevees-hobbies]

don't know if this counts as a request but ..

do you think kaji is into dacryphilia ? him n suo gives me sadistic vibes , to be honest .. ><

HAHHAHAHA, my first thirst. Bless you for this. I love this, anon!

Look, I need you to get out of my brain, ok? Because, yes, especially Suo. I’m writing a Suo smut fic currently, and your headcanon fits perfectly because it has devolved into the intense level of intimacy that he shares with you. I don’t want to give too much away, but…

Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Hayato Suo, Fem!Reader x Ren Kaji, Dacryphilia, smut, overstimulation

—

Being loved by Hayato Suo is to be consumed by him. You better be someone who can handle the marathon of lovemaking that comes with him, or you’re going to feel like you just might fucking break. 

It’s another level of love and intimacy; his tongue in the most sordid of places, his fingers unforgiving as they stroke your core, which has grown far too sensitive long ago. Maybe he’s teasing you because that's his nature, or perhaps it’s the manifestation of his addiction to you because, god to honest truth, he can’t get enough of any part of you, so he needs to savor the experience. I believe it is the latter more so than the former. 

No one would blame you if hot tears formed at the corner of your eyes and started to pour down your cheeks as you beg him for release because fuck, Suo, it’s too much. 

And you know what Suo will do? He’ll smile in your face, kiss those big, cute tears away, and say he knows you can take it—his girl can take anything. And to no shock to you—because you’ve done this song and dance before—he’ll continue to flick his wrist as his fingers curl against that spongy spot of your cunt, stealing orgasm upon orgasm from you. I really hope you can handle it because it either stops when not being inside of your abused cunt is just too painful for him, or time necessitates a quickie. If those conditions aren’t met? Good luck, friend. 

Deep down, you know that seeing you cry is part of the experience for him. It’s just as arousing as seeing you come undone on his cock, so your whimpering and hiccuping through tears is an un(fortunate) reality of being intimate with Suo. 

—

Now Ren Kaji? I think in any other scenario where Kaji finds you crying, he’s seeing red and hunting down the fucker who made you cry.

If he makes you cry because he snaps at you after having a bad day? He feels like absolute shit. 

The exception? When he has you folded over on yourself in the mating press position. He’s so deep in your guts you swear you can taste the tip of his dick on your tongue—you aren’t thinking clearly to consider the complicated logistics of this, too busy being fucked stupid.

And so when something finally snaps in you, something that makes your body tremble, and your core tighten because he’s fucking you like he hates you, you feel warm streaks pour from your eyes, sliding through your hair because the position he has you in has gravity pulling them back. You’re crying so hard that everything in front of you, including Kaji, is a blur.

The first time this happened, he stopped, concerned that he had hurt you, but you assured him that this was anything but pain that you were experiencing, so now he’s familiar with making you a crying mess as he fucks you into the bed.

And, fuck, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it hot. Because you crying means he’s doing a good job—he’s giving it to you so good and knowing that strokes his ego an unbelievable amount. 

And fuck, you love his cock this much that you’re a crying mess? Damn, what is he going to do with you? He’ll grit his teeth and fuck you harder because the way you cry, the way you turn into a cute blubbering mess, makes him feel like a god, and he wants to see how many tears he can get out of you before either of you breaks.

—

Yeah, I think they’re into it.

Keep the thirsts coming!

[vaguely-concerned]

it probably says something either sad or deeply unfortunate about me as a person, but I'm darkly amused to see some people react to the reveal of the ultimate permeability of souls in tlt as a triumphant thing -- the "you can't take 'loved' away!!!" side of it all -- when my first reaction was such an immediate wave of 'oh, oh so this is why this series is horror, I truly understand now' distress haha. ngl the final confirmation of the self not being inviolable in the deepest way freaks me the fuck out far more than any moment of body horror in the series has managed. (these two elements are of course the two sides of one thematic coin; it's about the horror of our bodies and minds and selves not being inviolable things, and about the effect of violence on them on so many different levels. violence psychological and interpersonal, physical, subtextually sexual, emotional, medical, political, a whole unlovely smörgåsbord of indignity and violation a person can be exposed to, and on a broader scale the spectrum of violence colonialism wields). The world and other people being capable of leaving indelible marks on us for good or ill through their presence in our lives is of course a pretty self-evident demonstrable truth in the real world, but somehow having it be proven metaphysically just uh. Fucks me up! 

It also drives home to me just how perfectly Muir has captured the dilemma at the heart of human connection and intimacy: the fact that the thing that gives us life and meaning is also capable of harming us so deeply. the same thing that can be so beautiful — even in a bittersweet, violently transformative form like with the creation of Paul — when done mutually and consensually and compassionately, is the same process that means someone like John can touch someone else's soul and 'after he's put his fingers on something, you'll never find anyone else's fingerprints on it; too much noise'. I think the text itself — the whole series, because to me this is what it is ultimately about, this tension between individuation/self vs. love/connection/enmeshment — is far more ambivalent in its treatment of it than saying it’s inherently a good thing or inherently a bad thing. The only thing it says for sure is that it is always a thing, that thinking you’re ever getting away from it is the height of futility, and that through being alive (or even through being dead lol) it is something you have to engage with in some way no matter what. Contact with other people is deeply necessary — without it we sicken and die. it can be the most beautiful and meaningful thing in a human life, and the most unspeakably horrific. All of these people are searching for some way to be whole, whether in total self-contained sufficiency on their own or in melding with someone else as their ‘other half’, and stumbling around in the dark they reach for each other and score deep wounds into the thing they’re trying to touch even when they don’t mean to. Taken to horrific extremes with the form of lyctorhood John guided his disciples to when they were ‘children — playing in the reflections of stars in a pool of water, thinking it was space’, because while people hurt each other all the time with differing levels of intentionality behind it, what John did was deliberate. It weaponizes the misapprehension of what closeness must be and destroys everyone involved in the process… and all because it leaves John the one sun their ruined lives have left to orbit around, because that’s the closest thing his soul will allow to connection. He doesn’t understand that to truly touch something you have to truly let it touch you back, and then wonders why he’s never satisfied.   

‘The horrors of love’ has been memed to death, I know, but… yeah. That is what it is, isn’t it.

[highhhfiveee]

safety net, part three

part two: 🚿 | part four: 🏆

pairing: pornstar!mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: y/n gets a taste of mike's world and things begin to shift. wc: 3.1k tags: lots of mentions of porn, smut (descriptions of sex being filmed, featuring unprotected sex, dirty talk, clit rubbing, squirting, some workplace intimacy lmao), angst?, exposition! proofread many times but if there are still errors, idk what to say lmao

“wow."

"i know right," you say plainly, eyes wide at your best friend, claire, as you take a large gulp of your hot latte. claire cuts her gaze to you, puffing her cheeks out in a sigh. you were always so in awe by her, the feeling proved once again when she'd actually agreed wholeheartedly to view your boyfriend's porn.

"i still don't believe that you're dating him," she sputters with outrage as she points to your computer on the dining room table, open to a still of mike with dick in hand, coming on some dark-haired girl's keen face. "and i don't believe it even more so because you decided to wait six months before telling me. i thought we were best friends!"

you can tell her outrage is whimsical by the way she faints into your arms, and you reach forward to catch her. 

"yeah but, like, best friends from adolescence that don't see each other very often. last time i saw you was three months ago." 

"okay, but by then you'd been dating him for three months, and that's almost half a year!" 

"barely, claire." 

you couldn't even believe that you were dating him. you hadn't known how you two went from meeting outside an underwhelming, overpriced restaurant to making out and cuddling intimately in mike's bed four out of seven days a week. it'd felt like no time had passed at all; you'd just been living without thinking. mike took every worry off your shoulders, freeing you of anxiety in so many ways that you couldn't believe someone that caring and accommodating was real.

he paid for your sessions after you'd mindlessly rambled about not being able to afford this therapist you really liked. he sent you the credentials to his grocery delivery membership, encouraging you to get anything you wanted or needed. you could finally consistently get things that were good, and healthy. he paid your rent, and respected the fact that you didn't want to move in with him and wanted autonomy to work and pay for your other personal expenses.

"i just want you to be happy. you tell me what you want, and we'll make it happen."

he had you and it didn't feel real. you felt like you couldn't tell anyone about it, terrified that everything would crumble if you spoke even a word about him being your partner, so sweet and good and rewarding. you didn't want to hide him, but you didn't want things to collapse. not this time. 

you wouldn't be able to take it this time. 

you explain all this to claire, ending with, "i'm sorry it took so long. i just really want this to last." you'd told her about everything, even about dating simon briefly and how he led you to mike. 

claire nods, chewing on a wedge of pineapple speared by a fork. she's given up her fainting performance, once again munching on her breakfast and clicking the pad on your laptop. the video you two were watching resumes, and you watch her face for bit, eyes shifting around the screen in intrigue, before turning back to it as well.

"you deserve it, y/n. that simon guy sounded like a dickhead. an expired card, and the bathroom excuse? fucking lame." her voice doesn't chop through the amplified sound of both mike and the girl moaning, whiny and feral. they're absolutely gone, and you're really not thinking about simon anymore. fuck him. 

now, you thought of mike.

granted, you hadn't been like the people in mike's videos, up to a certain point. you'd done the kissing and the heavy petting, but you hadn't had sex at all, in any form, and he didn't pressure you into feeling like it was some sort of requirement. he agreed with taking it slow, placing emphasis on the romantic before the sexual. you knew there would be no issues with the sexual; why rush into it when you could have the slow burn, all the tension you wanted up until you were ready?

mike hadn't fought it, and yeah, you thought, you did deserve it. you deserved to be treated like this. 

"called me over for an art date, i guess you still painted," the girl mewls with a devilish smile, licking at mike's---sorry, chase cox's---come around her mouth. 

"mhm, baby. masterpiece, if i do say so myself." mike is so pretty on the screen; sweaty and flustered, but so confident at the same time, polite too. even when he's in an act, he's so attentive; he moves hair away from eyes and wipes spit off chins and cradles waists while he adjusts his hips to hit various angles, turning almost everyone he filmed with into a "braindead fucktoy"---claire's filthy words, not yours (though you didn't mind the idea). 

the video ends with a snippet of aftercare, the both of them wiping at each other's bodies with gentle motions. it's how they all end, and you think it's really nice, showing a crucial part of sex that most people forgo. you'd seen plenty of mike's videos by now, and knew that while some were vastly more kinky than others, they all followed the same formula of care, concern, and curtesy. 

you could tell mike lived by that, too. 

"well, i gotta scoot to work," claire murmurs, leaning down to grab for her bag. "but thank you for inviting me to breakfast so you could show and tell me that you've been dating a wildly handsome, generous, and charismatic sex worker. best videos i've seen by far, honestly. are you seeing him today?" 

you nod sheepishly, and claire laughs into the sky, doctored with comical bitterness. "well, let the record show that i am both extremely jealous and extraordinarily happy for you." she gives you a toothy smile, poking at your shoulder with both index fingers. "seriously. you deserve it all." 

you carry this thought with you as you ride in one of the company's chartered cars, traversing through the roads to their main studio, the biggest one in the city. there were only 4 throughout the metro area, but this one, a gigantic penthouse isolated at the top of a 275-foot tall apartment complex, had the most space and atmosphere of them all. you remember coming here to take your picture for the all-access card mike had given you. he was so happy to gift it to you a few months ago, finally getting through after bugging the execs to give him another card with unhindered access for months. 

"finally got the hard copy, just for you. got your name on it and everything," he'd smiled so wide, clipping it on one of his merch lanyards; white with black, serif text that read, "chase cox world domination". you'd fallen over in laughter, kissing at his cheeks while thanking him between giggles. 

you hadn't been here many times over the last three months, but when you were, you were able to slip through every door and security checkpoint without hassle. people knew who you were and attended to you, telling you exactly where mike was in the studio or offering to get you any refreshments or sundries you were after. you'd always declined, extending extreme gratitude to everyone servicing you, but today, you ask for a bottle of fancy artesian water. you deserve it. 

the few times you'd been here before were usually half-hours after mike had finished a scene, helping him pack up to head home for the day, but this time, you'd come early, wanting to catch a glimpse of him at work. 

you take the elevator to the top, stepping out into the concrete foyer of the industrial workspace. the gray of the material was accented with bright art and other pops of color in furniture and decor that conveyed the new age principles and ideology of the production company. it made sense why the videos were so honored, with the people behind them being young and progressive and on the right side of history (and design). 

there are eight rooms on the floor; three for shooting, three for aesthetics and dressing, one for an office, and one for storage. there were bathrooms in three of them and two down the main hallway that opened into the formal living room/break area and kitchen. you'd been told that mike was in the hunger room; this one set up for messier, more bodily fluid oriented videos, as opposed to the softer passion and kinkier desire shooting rooms. 

the rooms are all hidden behind frosted, sliding glass doors with the titles printed onto placards affixed next to them. you find hunger after walking a little, and gently pull on the handle. the door slides open soundlessly, and you're closing it behind you as you step inside, your eyes locked on the scene in front of you. 

mike and his partner are arranged on a leather couch in a living room set, his hips shoving into her in this perceptive way. he's reading her body language and reacting accordingly, and you can see why she's moaning so genuinely, feet dangling by the ankle over mike's shoulders. the couch is already drenched in liquid, wet and puddled under the girl's ass.

he grabs for the back of the couch to go deeper, leaning down to press kisses on her lips as the cameraman focuses in on where they're connected. the sound is so lewd, and it makes you press your thighs together as you watch alongside the small production crew. 

"feel good? happy to have a friend like me? someone who knows you, knows your body? someone who makes you feel better and come harder than your stupid fucking boyfriend?" his partner mewls out a broken, exasperated, "y-yyesssss" between gritted teeth as her moans get higher and higher pitched. suddenly, she's reaching at mike's back to scratch at his skin, screaming out as mike leans off to the side of her, massaging his fingertips over her clit and cooing, "yeah, just let go. know he's never made you feel like this, wasting this perfect pussy..."

his partner squirts against the camera with a screech, loud and raw but pretty. the lens is covered in a heavy spray of bodily fluid as she arches her back and grinds her mound into mike's hand, chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. "that's fucking it," he encourages, speaking in her ear as he looks down at the mess in his peripherals and rides her through it. "just the way you deserve." you swear he locks eyes with you when he says it, and he only confirms it with the small smirk he throws your way, managing to fit it into the ending of the shot. his eyes twinkle through the aftercare segment, and he talks with his spent coworker, calling, "she just wants to sit for a second" to a PA with a chuckle. 

"okay, ten minute break and then we're shooting the come shot."

her legs slowly straighten out as mike throws the towel he's handed around his waist and slides his feet into the slippers stored behind the couch. he grabs a water from an outstretched hand as he makes his way over to you, smelling like sweat and sex and glistening with this nearly angelic post-fuck glow. it's like he's coming down from the gates of porn heaven.

"hi, my love," he muses, pulling you into a tight hug before saying, "how much did you see?" 

"like right before the squirting. it's very..." you're not sure what to say, really. maybe, just maybe, you need to change your underwear, but you don't want to be weird about it. you're sure he's heard weird, and beyond weird, but you want to maintain composure in front of his coworkers. you give him a tight smile, resting your hand on his pulsing bicep. "just makes me think things." 

"maybe we should add 'thought-provoking' to the list of labels for the company," he jokes, taking a sip of water while winking at you. "you're a genius, baby." 

you're giggling along with him, opening your mouth to continue the joke when two tanned arms reach from behind him to cross in an X over his chest. a head peeks from behind him, and she's immediately unmistakable to you. 

it's his current scene partner, who is also the girl from the video you watched earlier today. the one eager for his come, whining for him to make a mess of her face while letting him beat his dick on her tongue. you think back to all of the videos you've seen her in where she's with mike. she always comes the hardest working with him, and vice versa. something about it makes you sick. 

she's smiling at his cheek, eyes focused on his as he turns his glance towards her. her arms get tighter around him and you notice how she gets closer, pressing her front tighter against his back. "caught your breath?" 

"you know i always do," she brags, licking at her canines as her stare moves to you, looking you up and down with snarky scrutiny. "casting department's starting to slack." 

you shrink, feeling so small that you don't feel like you're interrupting something anymore. you might as well just not be there, and you're about to sink into pitiful posture when mike snarls, "hey, watch yourself. y/n, this is amelie, and li, this is y/n, my girlfriend. i told you about her." the sound of mike saying the nickname turns to bile in your throat, searing you on the way down and keeping you from speaking.

amelie gives you a blank expression now, standing beside mike with no qualms at being fully naked in front of a stranger. "y/n, y/n...not ringing any bells," she places her hands on her hips, tossing her dark, sex-tousled hair over her collarbones. "sorry."

you don't know why you're daunted by her; you're usually daunted by no one, and able to speak up for yourself when people are acting catty. this time, you can't help but be unnerved by her perfection, or how close she is to it. perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect body, perfect boobs...

"i'm kidding," amelie's smooth, beguiling voice rips you from your thoughts, and you're gasping for something to say when she continues, "he's shown me endless pictures, and knows that i think you're gorgeous." her tone picks up the tiniest bit as she quips, "my eyes are up here, by the way." she's throwing you off, frustrating you in so many ways and you're just stammering with mike looking between the two of you.

"i'm sorry---"

"it's really fine. millions of people have seen them, everyone's always thirsty for more of me and chase cox..." she drags the end of her sentence out as she runs the tips of her long, cherry red nails along the back of mike's neck, ending in a laugh.

"'mike schmidt' isn't a porn name, we already had this conversation." 

"neither is chase cox, if we're being real," they launch into a chitchat, and you once again feel like you're intruding. there's no denying that they have insane chemistry, but it still rips at you;  you're aware of them having an entire moment in front of you, complete with the body language and glances and suddenly, you don't care about their connection. mike was your boyfriend, and it didn't matter what she said or did. they'd made so many videos together, yet, every night he came home to you, and not her. 

"yeah, well you're still moaning chase when you come," 

"because i can't dox you like that--"

you clear your throat noisily, gaining their attention with an eyeroll, and amelie observes you and your curled lip with recognition of your game. she didn't expect you to have bite, not with the way you look now. you're not the assertive, 'take-no-shit' girl from the pictures mike showed her. she thinks you're merely a hint of that, and that it completely evaporates when someone lights a fire under your ass, but maybe she's wrong for once. "watched a bunch of your stuff. it was really good, you're talented." 

"thanks," her gratitude is dry and bitchy, and you're about to say more when a PA calls a two minute warning and she squints her eyes into slits at you. "hope you're ready to see a lot more of me." she uses mike's shoulder to pivot with a sly smirk, sauntering back to the now wiped down leather couch, ripples coursing through her ass with every step. 

you look to mike with astonishment, wondering where he's been during this whole thing, and who that girl is, and if she's genuine bad news or simply one of those callous girls that guys love to chase.

mike had defended you, sure, but he'd gotten captured too. what if she's indoctrinating him some--

"she's nice," you blurt, stopping yourself from the overthinking you'd resorted to. you needed to be nice to yourself. you deserved this, deserved everything you had with mike. nothing was taking that away from you, and you could feel secure in that. mike would reassure you.

he does, saying, "isn't she?" with a snicker. "don't worry about her, okay? it's her personality, and she does everyone like that, so she's not just targeting you. ignore her, and if you don't like the small jokes either, i can tell her to knock it off. whatever you want. also, lunch after i wrap?" 

you nod your head, about to say something again when the PA announces that it's time for shooting to start back up. mike gives you a fat kiss on the lips as he drops his towel into a director's chair next to you, and makes his way back over to amelie folded on the couch. her knees are by her chin at a filthy angle, and she's using a squeeze bottle with a tapered tip to squeeze shiny lube all over her clit and both holes. 

mike watches, rubbing his hand all through it to spread it around. amelie bites at her lip as he does, staring up at him with eyes that are filled with unadulterated lust, and he uses the leftover lube on his dick, stroking the slippery surface as he gets harder and harder in his hand. 

the director asks them if they're ready, and when they both answer yes, she says, "okay, we're gonna go insertion, sink in, wait five for the kiss, and go from there. alright...rolling...action." 

amelie flicks her eyes to you in a leer, winking at you like mike did earlier as he plunges into her sopping wet walls. her head falls back against the couch while she outstares you, open-mouthed moans transitioning into "cockdrunk" laughs that you know are calculated.  

you begin to chug your bottle of water, deliberately ogling her in return. you were down with playing a game for two, but not for long. 

lord. the hell i've gone through to get this up /: lmao i need to go to bed. things are about to heat up, so prepare yourselves for what's next to come!

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@mikeschmidtgf

[sunrise-imagines]

ill do anything for something about Prismo, relationship Hcs or PDA Hcs, I don't care if it's sfw or nsfw, I love Prismo

Of course! Prismo is such an underrated character, Im so glad he’s getting more screen time and I can’t wait to find out more lore like who’s his boss! I’ll keep it SFW for now, but feel free to send in another ask for some spicier headcanons ;) Enjoy!

Prismo the Wishmaster x Reader General Headcanons

• I hope your love language is receiving gifts because hoo boy he is constantly showering you with presents

• Saw something you liked in a store but didn’t have enough money to get it? Bam, it’s right there in front of you. Craving a specific food? Here’s five servings of it.

• It gets to the point where you have to tell him to dial it back a bit, because getting everything you want whenever you want it can start to make life a bit anticlimactic.

• On a more serious note, part of the reason why he gives you so many things is because he’s afraid that you might leave. I mean yeah,he’s an extra-dimensional godlike being, but he’s also very lonely because of this and hasn’t had many serious relationships in his life. This has caused to think that the only way to keep you with him is to grant your every wish. He needs you to reassure him that you love him for who he is, and you don’t need all those things to want to be with him.

• Like Scarab, he can take on a human-like physical form sometimes, though this form is harder for him to maintain as he does it a lot less often than Scarab. In this form, he has dark skin, curly pink hair and bright blue eyes like he usually does, and he wears a comfortable pink kurta and pants.

• He uses this form for physical intimacy, which you’ll have help to teach him as he isn’t familiar with all the different ways humans show affection.

• “So this is how a hug feels! Haha, it’s a little weird, but I like it!”

• His TV isn’t just for watching over the multiverse, he can also pull up programs from any universe to watch, so expect regular movie nights/binge watching shows

• He also loves playing board games! He’s really good at them too, though he’s not that competitive. He just has a lot of time to practice

• If you started dating when Jake was alive, then he loves to hang out with both of you! Nothing is better than chilling with his partner and his best friend.

• Makes special batches of pickles just for you, and asks you to sample different flavors and give him notes on what to adjust.

• In the most non-stalking way, he likes to keep an eye on you whenever you go back to your universe. He just wants to make sure you’re safe, and if you ever told him you’re uncomfortable with this he’d definitely stop asap.

• He’ll only step in if he sees you in serious trouble, zapping you to the time room to get you out of whatever situation is causing you distress.

• For my trans, nonbinary and gender non-conforming folks, he is of course accepting of all gender identities, and if you aren’t happy with how your body or features look he’d be happy to change them for you! Only with your absolute complete consent though, he doesn’t want to permanently change anything about you unless you are absolutely sure it’s what you want. And of course, he’ll still love you no matter what you look like <3

[sirenscriptures]

primarchs + fantasies

summary: basically just a ramble thirst post because i want to drag 30k/40k into my already mess of a blog. i’m still figuring out certain pieces of characterization/lore so be patient with me here <3 i am suffering this brainrot and dragging you down with me!

warnings/notes: nsfw themes (18+ only), fem-bodied depicted reader, mentions/depictions of exhibitionism, of course size difference, hints of breeding kinks, slight mention of blood drawing, bondage/rope play. (these are partial fantasies i think they’d have but also they are genuinely so touch starved i think even the slightest form of physical intimacy could make them combust. in a good way.)

featuring: lion el’jonson, fulgrim, leman russ, magnus, sanguinius, mortarion, and horus lupercal (pre-heresy)

lion el’jonson

look, if there’s one thing each of the primarchs could use in some way, it’s a fucking break. lion is definitely one of those primarchs. the man has always been on high alert, and has never truly known how to relax. that is, until he bonded with you.

the fact he’s found himself so close to you is quite a milestone of sorts. being a primarch of many secrets, you can assert that he isn’t someone who trusts easily. he doesn't let many others know what his deeper thoughts contain, not even some of his own blood.

however, it’s almost like he’s a different person in your presence. when he’s with you, he feels a profound sense of peace, like he can shut his mind off from his usual stressors and worries. especially during your alone time.

but it’s when he’s completely alone (a rare occurrence) that his thoughts tend to wander more than usual. it isn’t a total shock in the slightest when all he can think about is you. but when his thoughts are crowded with curiosities of what sounds you’d make while on top of him and how you’d feel wrapped around him…yeah it gets a little concerning to someone of his stature.

the thoughts of you like this start small…then they bloom into much more , to the point where if he even looks your direction when in this state of mind he’s a stuttering, flustered mess. a completely rare state for a primarch to be caught in, yet here we are.

so, it’s safe to say that while lion isn’t one to deeply “fantasize” like some of his brothers might, his intrusive thoughts about you certainly have a habit of spiraling and he has to physically slap himself to snap out of it.

fulgrim

in terms of fantasies, where do we even start with fulgrim? ever since you let him get close to you, whether that be on a personal or physical level, it was like opening pandora’s box. when you get him started, there is no going back.

it doesn’t have to be much to get him started with you. just your beauty alone and seeing you smile at him could get his dirtier thoughts racing. (horny bastard <3)

the fact that you were totally oblivious for a while of the power you held over him was amusing at times. though he was much bigger than you, he often thought about what you would do if he let you take the reins over him.

even just the thought of your soft hands running over his bare body could make him shiver. he could picture perfectly how beautiful you’d look if he had you on top of him. but he could also picture how beautiful you’d look if he had you in front of a mirror.

the way your delicate frame would lean against his chest as he fucked into you, massive hands roaming all about your perfect body…

most of the time he has to stop himself from thinking any further, for just the thoughts alone aren’t enough. maybe he’ll show you what he means when you’re alone with him in his chambers.

leman russ

if you want to delve into literal ferality, it is absolutely leman’s brain. and his actions, of course. so it isn’t far fetched to say his fantasies about you are in the same realm as his normal thought processes.

now, just because he is one of the more “feral” primarchs doesn’t mean he lacks complete restraint. but when it comes to you, let’s just say his restraint goes a bit…out the window if you know what i mean.

when his mind does wander and you’re not around, he tends to imagine showing you off. exhibiting how well he can pleasure you and how good you look while he does it to you. he doesn’t mind those of his legion seeing him with you like this, and even when you two are alone during these moments, he almost wants someone to see.

he would love to display the way he makes you whimper and squirm around him while rutting into you. though, he won’t let anyone get the wrong idea. you’re his, and he won’t let you forget that in the slightest.

but that’s not even half of what he’d like to do to you. and you can tell so blatantly in the way he teases you, unashamed of who’s around when he makes his usual remarks. but at the same time, he does it all out of love. he knows how annoyed you get from him pushing your buttons all the time, but he can tell you wouldn’t change it for anything.

magnus the red

for someone who sees most physical intimacy as a “waste of time” like a few of his other brothers, he certainly doesn’t stick to that thought process when it's you he's thinking about.

with magnus being as knowledgeable as he is, it genuinely frustrates him when he can’t figure out at first why he feels this way about someone like you. yet the more time he spends around you, and the more you show how open you are to learning from him and that you actually listen to him, the more these feelings start to increase.

in a strange way, he feels comforted by you. though when he’s closer to you than usual, these feelings of comfort seem to…deepen into more than he first expected.

even though he can’t pinpoint it at first, he finds that every time he’s away from you, the want for your presence grows within him like some sort of hunger. yet, it’s now laced with the craving to feel your touch.

his mind is generous in being able to envision you beneath him, body trembling with arousal as his touch travels your bare skin, admiring and caressing every inch of you. all of his senses are ablaze; the craving for your touch, voice, scent, everything becoming too much for even someone of his stature to endure.

shaking away these thoughts is much more of a challenge than magnus would first anticipate. but now that he’s come to this self discovery, he doesn’t want to waste anymore time merely thinking about it.

sanguinius

while sanguinius is the more compassionate of the primarchs when it comes to overall personality, don’t let that fool you. when this man gets down, he’s an absolute freak.

on a serious note, the one thing sanguinius loves is spoiling you, on all levels, of course. but he just has a little bit of extra fun when he gets to do it to you physically. he does love when you return the favor, but if he’s being completely honest he likes it more when he gets to please you.

when he’s with you in an ordinary setting, he doesn’t let his more “sinful” thoughts take over. out of many of his siblings, he is certainly one of the most restrained and can control himself when it comes to feelings such as these. one of the lucky ones, he supposes.

but despite being able to hide it, you do make it quite difficult at times. it can be anything that triggers that burning within him—the way you unsuspectingly bat your eyelashes when you stare at him, or when you look so bashful when he greets you with a kiss on your hand. or even when you accidentally brush up against one of his wings. and you aren’t even aware you do so much to him physically…

yet there’s not much that gets him going quite like the thought of driving you absolutely mad with pleasure (much like fulgrim if we’re being honest here). whether it’s the thought of how you’d react to his head in between your thighs until your legs tremble uncontrollably, or how pretty you’d sound when he drains just the slightest bit of blood from your tender neck…

sometimes he’s left heavy-breathed at the thought, and you’re not even in the same room as him. if only you were aware of the effects you had on him. though, something inside sanguinius felt as though it wouldn’t be a mystery for much longer.

mortarion

believe it or not, mortarion is not a total stranger to these kinds of thoughts. though, it’s much more intensified since you’re the only person he’s had these thoughts about.

with mortarion being one of the more distant and reserved of his brothers, his sex drive is one of those things he’s never had to deal with since he’s never felt this way about anyone else before. so it’s no surprise how easily pent up he can become.

even just the slightest things you do can get him electrified, and the poor, touch and affection-starved soul doesn’t even fully understand why. the way you smiled at him with genuine fondness from a distance the other day? he’s still thinking about it for weeks. the way your hand gently brushed against his face by mistake? still has him reeling even when he’s in your presence.

the way his thoughts of you overwhelm him is far from easy to deal with, and you immediately notice the way his behavior changes in response to these newer sensations.

it’s so much worse when he’s away from you for long periods of time, though. his mind is racing with everything from how beautiful you would look tied up in various positions; the imprints of rope staining your soft skin, to what sweet sounds he could get you to make in response to his mouth in between your legs.

his poor legionaries when they have to deal with him in this state…he’s so helplessly tuned out from everything and they have not a clue what’s going on with their primarch. but he won’t have to worry much longer, for he’ll be venting his sexual frustrations out on you when you’re both reunited.

horus lupercal (pre-heresy)

honestly, what doesn’t horus think about when he’s thinking about you? not many people can make his mind wander to even the most dangerous of places like you can. while he isn’t sure how this all started, he is far from complaining. honestly, what doesn’t horus think about when he’s thinking about you? not many people can make his mind wander to even the most dangerous of places like you can. while he isn’t sure how this all started, he is far from complaining.

the way he is around you is his usual self, but his thoughts about you aren’t restrained in the slightest. you’re so captivating, and while he wants to hang on every word you say to him, he can’t help but fantasize in the process.

horus doesn’t expect you to have a very strong effect on him at first, yet he’s proved wrong very quickly when he’s away from you. when he’s finally alone is when it hits him.

he thinks about how much he’d love it if he had you all to himself. he could imagine spoiling you in every way imaginable, but especially physically. he could imagine all the noises he could cause you to make, and all of the sensations he could make you feel. but most of all, he could imagine breeding you—filling you up with his seed to where you know that you’re his.

from there, you’re the cause of all of horus’ sleepless nights until he gets to see you again…

[bunnie-online]

── ⋆⋅lucifer nsfw alphabet⋅⋆ ──

warnings: 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI fem!reader, somnophilia mention, daddy kink mention, general horniness☝🏽😔

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

~♡• Luci's favorite form of aftercare is 100% physical affection, he'd wrap you in his arms and stroke your hair until you both fall asleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

~♡• for him? his back/wings. he knows they're impressive and it feeds his ego to watch the reaction he gets when he unfurls them. for you? he's and ass man, no ifs, ands or butts (haha pls laugh) about it

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

~♡• he cums sooo hard, i'm talking shaking, eyes rolling back, wings flapping, etc. one time he came so hard that he accidently broke skin from biting you. (you liked it)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

~♡• he'll never tell anyone but his long time partner but he's really into somnophillia, like receiving. he wants you to use him while he's sleeping, he'd love to wake up to his cock in your mouth.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

~♡• very much so, he kinda went on a broken hearted whore spree after him and Lilith broke up, something about filling a void left by a loved one by filling up someone else or whatever.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

~♡• doggy or reverse cowgirl, he's an ass man! any position that gets him a full view of your ass, he's down

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

~♡• c'mon, are we talking about the ducky man?! he's goofy for sure but if you're deep in a kinky scene or you need some soft lovin' he'll be serious

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

~♡• he's trimmed for sure, and yeah... the same gorgeous golden locks travel south, if ya catch my drift ;)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

~♡• he tries to be as light hearted as possible but if you're having a romantic romp, he's gonna be praising you with every thrust. stroking your cheek or your hair. just overall being so loving and attentive

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

~♡• if you two aren't living together, he's jacking off at least 3 times a week. he has a high drive but nothing compares to burying his cock inside you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

~♡• oh he has a ridiculous Daddy kink, argue with the wall lmao, he also loves some BDSM, and choking

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

~♡• at home, specifically the bedroom, that's the only thing that isn't outta the blue when fucking him, he likes to stick to the classics there

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

~♡• sitting on his lap, running your hands through his hair, oh and calling him Daddy is a sure fire way to let him know you need railed asap

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

~♡• he might have a Daddy kink but he doesn't fuck with ageplay

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

~♡• he definitely prefers giving and oh boy does he show it, he has you coming undone in three minuets flat most of the time. but he will happily lay back and let you suck him off, he loves seeing that pretty little face of yours full of his cock.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

~♡• honestly, it depends on the day, mostly he has rough thrusts will medium pace

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

~♡• eh not often, when he has you he wants to savor you. he's got to be desperate to cum to have a quickie

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

~♡• he's down to try almost anything once, he does have his limits though

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

~♡• he maxes out at 4 rounds, around 15-20 minuets for the first two rounds and 10 for the last two

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

~♡• he loves toys, the more the merrier. he loves to push you to the limit when he fucks you. he'll be pounding into you while holding a vibrator to your most sensitive parts, making you cum over and over again

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

~♡• oh he's a tease but he can't handle being teased. he'll tease you to tears but if you try to get him back he'd give up almost immediately

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

~♡• ooof my favorite question, he's loud. he moans and groans and whines. he's the type of man that moans "I'm gonna cum... oh.. oh fuck.. I'm cumming" or he'll just repeat "I'm cumming.. I'm cumming..!" when he's releasing inside of you. he does it in such a delectably whiny voice, he almost sounds pathetic... it's so sexy. (hi im bunnie and i have a wicked voice kink)

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

~♡• he's a hair puller, he loves grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking on it as hard has he can. he loves seeing your eyes instantly roll to the back of your skull.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

~♡• 7in length, 1.5 in girth and curves slightly upward

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

~♡• he's a pretty horny being, on a scale from 1-10 hes an 8.5

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

~♡• he tries his hardest to make sure you fall asleep before he does, he wants to provide proper aftercare, especially after those super long sessions. but there have been one or two times he's fallen asleep before you, which he goofily and thoroughly apologized for the next morning

~~~~~~~~~~

i've never done one of these before! that was sooo fun!

~bunnie

[deadlynavigation]

Counting Sheep

Warnings: Slightly ooc muriel, not being able to fall asleep

Author’s Note: just praying this reaches the target audience also praying for a man like muriel to snatch me up

(Navigation)

The moon is high in the sky by the time you finish your daily tasks. The birds are all silent, the wind has quieted to almost nothing, and the lost souls who wander the beaten paths have all gone home.

You sigh as you crack the door open and notice this. It’s far too late for you to be up.

“Ready for bed, Y/n?” Muriel calls from the corner, drowsiness clear in his voice. Sweet thing, he’s waited up for you, even though you told him many times to just rest.

“Almost. Do you know where my nightie went?” You ask, walking over.

“My shirt? It’s over on the table.” You shoot your lover a smirk and wander over to grab it. Quickly stripping to your undergarments, you throw the shirt on and catch Muriel’s eyes scanning you. He looks away a moment too late, blushing profusely.

You giggle before making your way over to him. “You can look, you know. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.

Muriel’s blush deepens. “I know.” He mumbles, eyes still turned away from you.

“In fact,” you crawl on top of the covers, kneeling above where he lays, “I like it when you look.”

Muriel snorts. He finally turns to you with a tiny smile on his face, opening his arms as an invitation. You’re struck with a sense of pride–it’s taken months for Muriel to get to the point where he’s comfortable with this level of affection, but you’re so glad he’s reached it. Hours of panic attacks, breathing exercises, experimentation, and cautious intimacy are being put to use.

You gladly fall into his arms, a small oomph leaving his lips as you collapse onto his chest. You stifle a laugh, tucking your legs and arms into his embrace. His warmth surrounds you, protecting you from the forest’s cold. You feel safe for the first time in a while.

“Comfortable?” Muriel questions, trying to fight a yawn. His arms come up to loosely wrap around you.

“Yeah. Night,” You kiss his chest, knowing he’ll feel it through the thick fabric of his pajamas.

But you get no response–Muriel is out like a light. And for a couple minutes, it’s peaceful, his heart beating a steady rhythm, his chest rising and falling with slow breaths. You press another kiss to his stomach, taking great pleasure in the sharp exhale he releases afterwards. It’s your own version of bliss.

But bliss fades as you become increasingly aware of something digging into your side. You try to ignore it in favor of cuddling into the man below you, but soon it practically forces you to switch positions. You huff, shuffling onto your back to lay besides Muriel. The warmth is now gone, but so is the bother in your side. You sigh, closing your eyes and trying to fall asleep.

It doesn’t work. You fling your arms to the sides, one falling off the bed before you think of the demons under the bed who could steal your hand away. Quickly yanking it back, you cuddle it to your chest, trying to force yourself to rest your eyes and fade away. If you could just hold this position, hearing the faint exhales beside you and the occasional breeze in the forest, you’d be out in no time.

But no, your mind decides this isn’t going to work. You rearrange yourself once again, this time with your back facing Muriel. Your arms and legs come into your chest, forming a sort of ball that better be comfy enough to induce sleep. But there’s none of Muriel’s hands resting on you, the blankets are all tangled up and pressed against you, and now your hands are cold.

For what you hope is the final time, you shift in bed. Your stomach is now against Muriel’s chest, chin resting on your hands as you observe his peaceful expression. How nice it must be to fall asleep in seconds, not concerned about what position will be best for rest or if you’ll wake your partner up in your fight with the blankets.

All of a sudden, Muriel shifts, breath stuttering for a moment before returning to the same steady pattern. You freeze, not wanting to disturb him. The last thing you want to do is wake the poor man up.

It takes a couple seconds to relax your limbs, and in doing that, you realize that you're not that comfortable anymore. You close your eyes in frustration, just wanting the sun to rise so this wretched night can be over. Looking over at the small clock you forced Muriel to install, you groan–it’s only been a few minutes.

You feel like crying. You just want sleep, and the universe seems determined in not affording you that. You shift again to where you started, heading resting on Muriel’s chest and legs tucked in.

You’re disrupted from your pity party by a small laugh coming from your lover. You glance up, noticing that Muriel is awake now, but his eyes are still closed.

“Love, you just completed a full turn around me.” He teases, hand drifting up and down your arm in a comforting motion.

You grumble, turning away from him and onto your back. It’s been hard enough trying to get to sleep, you don’t need his sass as well.

He doesn’t like that, though. His arms come to wrap around you, pulling your back flush against his chest. Like this, you can feel every breath against your neck, every word he whispers against your ear. Your eyes flutter shut as he chuckles.

“Sleep now, love. No more moving around.”

“It doesn’t work like that–on command.” Though you’re already starting to feel a little drowsy.

“Shhh. Sleep time.”

[ch3rish-ning]

➴ LIES, TELL ME LIES ⟡ ݁₊ .

Synopsis ᝰ.ᐟ⋮니키 ────f!reader ˎˊ˗ wc: 1k+ ꒰angst,relationship꒱𓂃“The heart is far more honest than spoken words. Pretending is fun for a while, and a lie is meaningless until the heart makes it mean more.” Reblogs + feedback! ˎˊ˗

Intimacy is a close connection that two people can share. A closeness you both once shared. He’s stubborn and a major prankster, but he never hesitated once in showing you how deeply he cared about you. He’s sweet, comforting, and charming; what more could you have asked for? Call it a perfect match or maybe a cliché, but you were exactly right where you wanted to be.

You loved tracing out the little tattoo he got for you, just one amongst the others inked across his skin, but this one meant something. his way of showing you how much he liked you, no…loved you. Your fingers danced across his skin, watching as his nose scrunched up in pure joy. “You like it that much, huh?” He could never get tired of teasing if it meant he could see you roll your eyes in disbelief. Scoffing, you pinch him, leaving the spot red. “Not that much, you idiot,” you respond, satisfied with the hiss he gives as the sting settles in.

Closing the distance between you two with you both now seeing eye to eye. You take in his features, mentally tracing them out. Feeling his soft puffs of air hit your face, you move a strand of hair from his face before speaking again. “Would you laugh if I said I want us to stay like this forever?” You see the grin beginning to form on his lips as laughter erupts from him. “Baby, you can’t be serious right now.” Squinting your eyes at him, you wait until his laughter dies down. “Nik, I’m serious; stop being an ass.”

Alright, alright, I’m kidding, …let’s stay like this then,” you pinky swore on it. Embarrassing, right? It meant something though, a seal or a promise that this love you shared wouldn’t die out. Promises are meant to be broken, right...? They don’t always hold; at some point they give out, and a promise becomes a fleeting fantasy. Maybe that’s where you began to stumble, thinking you could hold on to this thing forever, that it’d be everlasting. But it was faulty, nothing but fickle reality.

The first serious argument would only be the first of many. “C'mon, you’re making this shit far more serious than it has to be. You know I never said that!!” Gripping his hair in distress, he paces back and forth, watching you as you speak up. “So what, am I making this up?!” You snapped, voice cracking, “You made it quite clear that you’re not 100% in this anymore. I feel like I’m the only one trying to hold this together while you just keep tearing it apart...” Scoffing at you, his gaze hardens as he locks eyes with you. “So this is my fault now… Got it… You think I haven’t been trying? I’m here, aren’t I? Isn’t that enough...? ” His voice is low and defensive.

Laughing bitterly, you taste the familiar iron flow as you bite your tongue hard enough, refraining from saying something you would regret. “Yeah…you’re here…” You both bask in the silence. Anything but peaceful, suffocating, and heavy. His eyes flickering on you. “Maybe we just need some space…time to think…” You look at him, trying to find a response, but you only seem to make out the words “okay…”

Never again. You both promised. It was normal, right...? To fight, to disagree. Maybe there were a few open wounds, but nothing a Band-Aid can’t fix. You’re both stronger than ever; you were sure this time nothing could interfere. “Ahh, open up before it melts…” He holds the spoon up to your lips as he watches you take a bite. “Gosh, vanilla always tastes the best,” you rave on about the silly ice cream flavor as you lick it off the spoon. “Way better than mint chocolate,” he grins with a teasing glint in his eye. Eye twitching in disbelief, you poke at him. “Keep talking and I’ll steal your ice cream.”

“Okay, you’ve got me there; no more talking on my end.” He throws his hands up in defeat, the familiar sound of his laughter ringing in your ears. Warmth. Is all you can feel the warmth of his laughter, of your love? The feeling seems real; maybe it is, or it’s simply just a cover-up for what lies underneath the surface.

Maybe he’s checked out. Maybe he no longer feels for you as he once did. Maybe your mind is betraying you. Check his phone. The tiny thought plays in the back of your mind. You’re alone with it; his shower will be up any minute. A text from an unknown number on his phone reads, “When you figure your shit out, you know where to find me.” Would he...? Swallowing hard, you didn’t want to think the worst, let alone jump to conclusions. Keep it to yourself, you think, pretending and smiling.

“I’ll see you later, babe.” Kissing your forehead, he leaves as if he was never there. It’s getting worse, isn’t it? The lies, the secrecy. True promises are now becoming empty ones. Lying alone, your mind plays out every possible scenario. Maybe this is some sick game that you were bound to play at some point. Alone days at a time, flimsy goodnight texts that lack feeling, even on nights you lay together, feel separate.

Back to square one. “You’re full of shit!! I’m tired, Ni-ki, tired of wondering what’s in your mind, tired of wondering where you are with whoever, tired of feeling alone and unloved.” In a fit of rage, you find anything you can to throw at him as you watch him weakly attempt to dodge them.

Responding bitterly, “You really want to go there again? ... I don’t know who the hell I’m looking at anymore; the girl that I once knew, the one that I once loved, gave up on me long ago. Whatever you’ve been keeping from me, you’ve shut me out and made sure I had no access to you, so really, who’s full of shit?” A slap to the face. His words are suffocating you far more than you can bear.

You’ve both hidden for far too long. The realization hit you like never before. You were nothing without trust or intimacy. You feared this, anticipated it. You knew deep down you couldn’t trust him. And he’s given you reason once you began turning your back on him. But it all was safer hidden, wasn’t it? Bandage every crack in hopes that it would be enough to heal.

“Tell me one last lie, ruin everything so that I can walk away, pull the band-aids off, and allow me to heal on my own, please lie to me,” the tears slowly descending down your cheeks as you meet his eyes one last time.

“I love you, baby… more than anything, I promise.” Kissing your forehead one last time, it’s over.

©CH3RISH-NING 2025

[monstersinthecosmos]

Little Drink as edging and MURDER as orgasming is the most mindbendingly hot and truthful parallel to ever be drawn. Just. Cannot get past it

 Yes, YES!!!

Like I know I’m Marius Brained and everything but even when I’m reading TVA and in Armand’s POV I am always like, god this must have been killing Marius. 🥵

The Devil’s Minion era (once they warm up to each other) and Venice Era are really the only times in canon we get to see a prolonged courtship between a vampire and human, yeah? But the books constantly tell us about how killing & drinking is the ultimate form of intimacy. (Notice me being very very mature and not devolving into an Asexual VC dissertation LMAO pin that for later). I’m not counting Lestat & David as a prolonged courtship because David was Not Interested and they weren’t sharing blood before Lestat finally turned him, and still David’s turning is explicitly described as rape and written to be erotic. But the overlap of Venice & Devil’s Minion is too obvious to ignore and we see the way the human/vampire relationship finds ways to translate their interspecies erotic desires by sharing sex acts (for the human) and blood (for the vampire).

STILL! 

The Little Drink isn’t all they need! Like they’re not just taking a little sip and fucking off for the night — Thorne describes it as being a bee going from flower to flower! Drinking from many many people! And the books tell us that it’s not ONLY the blood itself — it’s the murdering that’s the truly intimate and most special act!!!!! 

So anyway just.

Taking little sips for years and years ! The blue balls, my god. And finally getting to take him all the way!!!!!!! God. 🥵💦

Especially like reading B&G and knowing that Armand was like, Marius’s 3rd choice rebound during that time period LMAO. He wanted Botticelli and had to leave Florence to not kill him! He wanted Bianca and had to remove himself from her social circle to not kill her!!! 

This is my favorite Marius quote in VC, when he’s feeling like he’s going to murder Bianca — 

For a moment, I thought my powerful self-control would be lost. I would embrace her, whether or not she would have it, and take her rapidly by force from the very middle of her warm and safe rooms to the cold and fatal domain of my soul.

He finds Armand because he’s trying to like ethically source a fledgling (great job buddy that’s the worst anyone has ever done it) by choosing someone who’s on borrowed time, anyway! Blank slate that he can groom for vampirism!!!!!! 

I was just talking to @apoptoses today about how the concept of “this sounded cool until I actually tried it” comes up a bunch in VC — we were talking about Daniel romanticizing murder until he actually had to do it LOL — but same for Marius thinking he can just mold a trafficked boy to be a good vampire. So it’s not just like, Marius having a relationship with him and taking little sips as a fucking aperitif for The Act but like, he almost immediately changes his mind and doesn’t want to do it !!! He’s willing to deny himself !!! 

Gosh where’s that other thing he says in TVA…

“I’m coarsened by human blood. It's always the fact. Only in starvation do I find an ethereal purity.” "Ah, and you turn me from penance at every juncture," I said, "towards the senses, towards pleasure."

Just, oof. Especially for Marius who, from what we can tell, is a little more into humans than most of the cast? Like he’s someone that craves social connection and wants to be around them all the time. Even when he was alive and he was traveling to meet and study people in taverns. So I think there’s just a lot wrapped up in this ! 

I shared this a couple weeks ago but I wanna share it again because I think it will make everyone understand VC better and we’ll all write better fanfics for it LMAO it’s based on Hellraiser but it's the topic of eroticism in religious penance !!!!! Very excellent. 

But the eroticism of suffering! Of denial! Inside the universe of Written By Crazy Catholic Lady VC we also have to talk about how eroticism is the kill & the blood and how abstinence is akin to starvation - how it’s something actually painful.

Anyway I’m gonna leave it here I think because I’ll talk all day but I was poking through TVA and B&G for some quotes about this and I’m just !!!!!!

Marius on Armand:

I had never experienced such pure intimacy with a mortal, except with those I meant to kill. It gave me chills to have my arms around this boy, to press my lips to his cheeks and chin, his forehead, his tender closed eyes. Yes, the blood thirst rose, but I knew so well how to control it. I filled my nostrils with the smell of his youthful flesh.

"He is irresistible, but what am I to do?

Armand on Marius: 

"Amadeo," he said, his lips on my throat as they'd come a thousand times, only this time there came a sting, sharp, swift and gone. A thread stitched into my heart was jerked all of a sudden. I had become the thing between my legs, and was nothing but that. His mouth nestled against me, and again that thread snapped and again. I saw him staring, beastlike, from his chair, as if some ravener had come into him and banished all his civilized faculties and left him thus, hungry, with glazed eyes and reddening mouth, the glittering blood finding its myriad little paths over the silky margin of his lips. He rose, a drugged thing, and came towards me with a rhythm of movements that was alien and struck the coldest terror in my heart. His fingers flashed, closed, beckoned. I ran to him. He lifted me in both hands, clutching my arms ever so gently, and tucked his face against my neck. From the soles of my feet up my back through my arms and my neck and scalp, I felt it.

"Master, Master, Master, I love you." "Yes, well, that's not so unusual," he whispered. He didn't stop his kissing. He lapped at the blood. I writhed under the weight of his hand on my backside. "But the question is, Amadeo, why do I love you? Why? Why did I have to go into that stinking brothel and look upon you? I am strong by nature ... whatever my nature ..." He greedily kissed a large bruise on my thigh. I could feel his sucking at it, and then the tongue lapping it, eating the blood, and then his blood coming down into it.

And this from TVA when he finally does it:

He bent his lips. A sense of dreadful awesome finality swept over me. "You will die now to be with me in life eternal," he whispered in my ear. "Never for a moment must you really fear. I will hold your heart safe in my hands." His teeth cut into me, deeply, cruelly with the precision of twin daggers, and I heard my heart thud in my ears. My very bowels contracted, and my stomach was knotted in pain. Yet a savage pleasure swept through all my veins, a pleasure which coursed towards the wounds in my neck. I could feel my blood rush towards my Master, towards his thirst and my inevitable death. Even my hands were transfixed with vibrant sensation. Indeed, I seemed suddenly to be but a puppet map of circuitry, all of it aglow, as with a low, obvious and deliberate sound, my Master drank my life's blood. The sound of his heart, slow, steady, a deep reverberating pounding, filled my ears. The pain in my intestines was alchemized to a soft sheer rapture; my body lost all weight, all knowledge of itself in space. The throb of his heart was within me. My hands felt the long satin locks of his hair, but I did not hold to them. I floated, supported only by the insistent heartbeat and thrilling current of all my swiftly flowing blood. "I die now," I whispered. This ecstasy could not endure.

(What’s also funny is that the turning from Marius’s POV is so much about Armand’s religious ecstasy and revelations - thanks Catholic Lady but also that’s whole eroticism-mysticism thing again. Also the way that Marius treats it like a wedding so. Jsdkgla.)

I’m going to be so fucking honest with you, I was gonna pull a bunch of quotes and I think there were some more I was gonna look up but I got a little too squirmy reading these ones 🥵🥵🥵🥵 dhjkadslg I THINK I’VE MADE MY POINT.

[hydra00110110]

Returning the Favor

Donna x Reader, 2nd person, Smut Fluff, Angst, Minors DNI, Word Count 1,700ish  

Intimacy is one of the many forms of love that you and Donna share. But her continuous decline of any reciprocation from you has left you concerned about the state of your relationship.

“Donna, why is it that when we make love, you never let me return the favor?” You casually asked while poking at your fruit bowl. As Donna profusely struggled to not spit out her espresso, Angie burst into giggles. “Ooh hee hee! Looks like Dons wasn’t prepared for that one!” Regaining her composure, the dollmaker sharply ordered Angie to eat her waffles, but the doll was hopelessly lost in maniacal giggles. You raised an eyebrow, waiting for your question to be answered. She pursed her lips, with her sole eye drifting to the side. “Let’s take a walk this afternoon, dolcezza. The weather is expected to be pleasant.” Angie’s eyes brightened,“Can I come too?” Donna paused for a moment, hesitant to invite her but hesitant to refuse. To break the tension, you suggested cheerfully, “Angie, I'm sure Donna will be more than happy to have you along if you explore the woods.” “Sure, she is!” scoffed the obstinate doll. “She just wants me away so you two can have SMOOCHIE POOKIE TIME.” As she mocked you both by hugging herself and mouthing “mwahs” (the best a doll could), you came up with a quick fabrication. “While in the yard yesterday, I saw some snakes hunting mice!” You hoped to appeal to the doll’s love for reptiles. Angie stopped her mock-make out. “REALLY?” she exclaimed. “Yeah,” you elaborated, “And I think one of them had yellow spots on it!” “Donna, can I come with you guys to hunt snakes?” Angie pleaded. “Of course you may,” the doll weaver confirmed while mouthing “thank you” for your clever compromise. You knew that it was still too cold outside for snakes, but your clever wits saved everyone’s breakfast time sanity. Hook, line, and sinker.

That afternoon, Donna and you strolled the garden while watching the veiled doll zipping through the shrubs like a squirrel on pixie stix. Holding onto Donna’s arm, you reminded, “Dear, you never did answer my question at breakfast.” “Ah sì, about your curiosity,” she pretended to recall, “It is just a simple preference.”  Her matter-of-fact tone left you with even more questions. You know that you couldn't say no to mutual acts. Also, a sneaking suspicion has creeped on you that perhaps her preference was due to what you could not do. “Is it because you doubt my abilities?” You asked worriedly. Donna turned at you baffled, “What do you mean?” “Don’t lie,” you continued, “I know I’m not as skilled of a lover as you are.” Your fears were getting the best of you as you tried to elaborate, “Donna, I can’t hide it anymore; I feel like that’s what you mean when you don’t let me return the favor.” The dollmaker put her hand on her forehead. “Christ,” she sighed, “Why do you always believe that whenever we have problems, they are because of you?” Pulling away, she growled, “Look, I have my reasons, but they're none of your concern.” With eyes wide in disbelief, you retorted, “So we live together, eat together, have the most passionate sex together, yet I am not supposed to ask about our bedroom behaviors?” She hissed, shooting you an icy glare. “We live together, eat together, make love together, and I don't flood your ears with constant self-doubt!” Knowing that her words were far from the truth, you scoffed, “Oh, you don’t ever pester me with your self-doubts? Of course you do, with those crazed possessive spells of yours!” “Cazzo!” Donna shrieked, who promptly left for the other side of the garden while fuming. If holy water were poured on her, it would sizzle.

For the next fifteen minutes, you wandered within your half of the garden. You wrestled with how you should not have taken Donna’s preference so seriously. But for you, this wasn’t simple as disagreeing with ice cream flavors. No, this was a huge part of your life with her. Donna always provided unrivaled pleasure that you longed to return. However, when you’ve brought it up in the past, she would simply say, “No no, cara mia. There’s no need.” or “Maybe another day.”  Why won’t she let me return the favor? You wondered to yourself. It’s not fair that she shuts me out this way! You returned to how you pushed her over the edge by bringing up her possessiveness. You realized that your jab at her weak spot equally hurt you as well. It didn’t matter who started it first. What mattered was that you allowed your insecurities to say hurtful things to the woman who was your everything.

The waterfall's white noise helped you meditate. You were disheartened at yourself for letting this whole silly argument of Donna’s bedroom preference have serious impacts on your love for each other. You decided to find her and make things right. You knew that she would either accept your remorse or not. Just as you turned around, you felt a tender hand placed cautiously on your shoulder. You saw that it was Donna, who had taken it upon herself to find you first.  “Dolcezza,” she gently started, “I want to apologize for my senseless words.” You blinked in surprise after you spent a quarter of an hour convincing yourself that you were wrong.  “Donna, you have nothing to apologize for.” You assured, “It’s my fault for- “ “No.” she interrupted. “This is my fault completely.” She defended, “You have every right to inquire about our private life. We face the world together.” The humbled dollmaker bit her lip before continuing, “It’s just that I'm scared.” You tilted your head in confusion, “Why? You are an absolute goddess.” A single tear gathered in the corner of the Italian woman’s eye. “I get scared about reciprocation because I don't see myself the way you see me.” “Oh Donna. . .” you compassionately sighed.  She continued, “It’s much easier for me to give than to receive. I never meant to hurt you with my fears. I’m so sorry.” You cupped her face in your hands. Looking into her eye with pure love, you drew her in for a passionate kiss. “You deserve everything, Donna,” you affirmed, “You are worthy of the same love you bless upon me.” She leaned into your arms with a tight embrace. Feeling her tears fall on your back broke your heart. It really wasn’t about you after all. It was those damned voices in her head, blinding her with hideous self-hatred. “I love you, Donna,” you tenderly said, “If you’d rather me not ask you anymore, I will honor your feelings.” She rose to look at you with a swollen red eye.

“I. . . would like to. . .try,” she offered, “to feel what you feel about me.”

She took your hand and placed it on her breast, signaling her readiness. You both sat on the soft grass. You unfastened the round buttons of her blouse and revealed her cream white breasts. Straddling her thigh, you took one of her breasts into your mouth. She let out a soft sigh as you sucked her soft breasts, tracing your tongue over her nipples.

“You are so very beautiful.”

“V-veramente?”

“Completely.”

You slithered down her waist, covering every inch of skin with soft kisses. Upon reaching her dress, you looked up for consent. She nodded with a gulp, allowing you to continue your worship. Lifting her dress, you revealed her delicious thighs. Your mouth was salivating. You gently slid her panties off, marvelling at her entrance that was slick with desire.

“You are truly a goddess, Donna.”

You planted your mouth on her clit, lightly sucking the bulging erect bud.

“Cazzo,” she groaned while gripping the grass around her.

You hummed in content, enhancing her pleasure. You then slipped your index finger inside her dripping hole.

“So nice and wet for me, baby,” you cooed.

As her walls accepted your finger, you inserted your middle finger as well, allowing you to control your administrations even more.  You thrusted your digits deep inside her, curling them in a little spot that sent her spilling incoherent Italian nothings. You sped up your movements while using your thumb to rub her clit.

“Per favore, don’t stop,” she begged between breaths. You felt her stomach muscles contract and her walls tighten around your fingers. But with all her slick, your fingers still slipped out effortlessly. With her groans increasing, Donna propped herself up with one arm while using her free hand to clutch your hair as she braced for her climax. With a final contraction, her hips bucked as you brought her to heaven. Your fingers were drenched as she rode out her orgasm. As you gently brought her back down, you licked your fingers in satisfaction; you were able to return the favor, at last. You topped it off with a gentle kiss on her womanhood. Both of you embraced each other, sighing in shared content.

“How was it, my love?” You asked softly.

“That was amazing,” she replied breathlessly. “I never thought that I could feel this way.”

Holding her close, you stated, “You deserve this, Donna. You are a magnificent woman who is worthy of all forms of love.  I won’t take “no” for an answer, do you understand?”

With her eye sparkling with gratitude, she replied, “Yes, dolcezza. Thank you for showing me this.”

Just then, the both of you heard a high pitched shrill.

“Hey look what I found!”

You both look up to see an exuberant Angie fling a yellow-spotted slithering reptile on top of you.