#deliriants

[xxangeldustanalogx]

gotta get the rarest eiriel encounter damn :0

[sai-int]

fucking shy!simon for the first time

shy!simon who overthinks it to death. it’s not that he doesn’t want it, he does,. he wants it so badly the thought of your sweet, tight cunt keeps him up at night—but he gets stuck in his own head. he’s big and oafish, maybe a little dumb in this department, rough around the edges, and this is you. he’s terrified of messing it up, of ruining something he doesn’t even know how to name.

shy!simon who (when you finally, FINALLY corner him in the mess and drag him back to your quarters) hesitates every time his hands skim over your skin, like he’s waiting for you to change your mind. and when you don’t, when you lean into him instead, he lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for hours.

shy!simon who freezes the first time your tiny, warm hands slip under his shirt and skim over his bare skin. muscles tensing, breath catching, eyes squeezing shut like he’s trying to keep himself from falling apart. he’s shaking and he swears under his breath, cheeks burning, but he doesn’t stop you.

shy!simon who still asks, "you sure?" when his cock is lined up with your dripping hole, in this quiet, almost broken way, because some part of him still doesn’t believe this is real. and when you tell him—beg him "please just put it in", when you tug his chest flush to yours in instead of pushing him away, something in him finally gives.

shy!simon who starts off so damn careful, like he’s convinced he’ll hurt you if he’s not. you take him easily despite his girth because you just need him that badly, but despite that, he thrusts so slow and hesitant into you, like he’s waiting for some kind of sign to let go.

shy!simon who is absolutely weak for praise. tell him how good his cock feels , that you want him, that you've never been fucked this good before in your life (even though he's barely moving. he's just the perfect size) and he completely loses himself in you, lips letting loose as he babbles your name into the crooks of your neck, grip tightening around your waist and ass as he slobbers against your skin like he can't help it.

shy!simon who is completely gone, pussydrunk off you within minutes. whatever restraint he had disappears, replaced by something raw and aching. he’s still careful, still treating you like something worth holding onto, but now he’s just desperate with it, humping his cock into you until you're whining from overstimulation and until he cums deep inside your tummy with a shudder and wet eyelashes.

shy!simon who doesn’t say much after, but his hands never stop moving, tracing slow circles against your hips, fingers running through your hair. he might not be able to tell you how much he loves you yet, but the way his thumb brushes over your cheek says it all.

[regrettorisotto]

i fucking LOVE LIFE !!!! YOU WANNA KNOW WHY???? IM ALIVE AT THE SAME TIME AS AO3 EXISTS!! THERES NEVER BEEN A BETTER AGE EVER !!!!! AND IM LIVING NOW AAAHAHHAHAHAHAHA

[wulfhalls]

corrupted godhood. reluctant false messiah. prophecy as a creeping all consuming malady. does the oracle see the future or make the future? the horror of trapping yourself inescapably on purpose. the chains of destiny dragging you towards the path you are fighting tooth and nail to free yourself from. there never having been a chance to begin with. no other choice to make. but making that choice regardless.

[waitineedaname]

I will never get over binghe and that damn congee. a meal he didn't manage to bring to his mother on time before she died. a meal he remade every couple of hours over the course of several days when sqq was unconscious from without-a-cure so that when he woke, he'd have something fresh to eat. the meal that he made every day for five years, in the hope that sqq's corpse would someday wake up and eat it

what's really striking to me is that first time he makes it for sqq. this is right after sqq took a major hit for him, getting struck with a poison that should've killed him, all for binghe's sake. I imagine poor binghe must have felt pretty helpless after that. it's not like he could help with sqq's medical recovery or tend to his qi or rouse him from his brief coma, but he needed to do something to show his gratitude for what sqq had done for him, and it makes me emotional that the decision he comes to is "when shizun wakes, he'll be hungry, so I should feed him" and then he proceeds to make the same congee over and over every couple hours until sqq wakes up

[delirious-donna]

tw: kento x female reader, breeding, kitchen sex (because when is that not hot?), kento speaking his mind (yeah it’s filthy 🫦)

Kento found you in the kitchen, guided to you by the sweet lilt of the tune you were absently humming. He loosened the knot of his tie and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows, exposing the corded muscles in his forearms.

Everything was right with the world once he had returned to your warm presence. Nothing could sour his mood now that he was home, and he watched from the doorway as you prepared cookies for baking, leaning against the frame with arms crossed and his cock twitching to life.

It was amazing how the tiredness, that only moments ago had pressed against his eyes, lifted as he admired your figure. The summer dress that showed off the plush of your thighs and thin straps that would be far too easy to push down to reveal your beautiful breasts.

You really were perfect for him. Nanami knew you would be a wonderful mother, but that thought startled him as he had not thought himself ready for such responsibility—not yet.

… but maybe?

How could he deny the pleasure thrumming through his body when he thought of you round with his child? His cock strained painfully against his expensive tailored trousers and a sudden tightness forced his balls to draw up, ready and aching.

It only took three strides and he was behind you. You startled with a high-pitched yelp at his unexpectedly sudden presence, jumping in the heat of his body as he crowded you against the counter without uttering a single word. His strong capable hands made hasty work of pressing beneath your dress to find the waist of your underwear, tugging them down until they pooled around your bare feet on the floor.

“Kento!” you giggled, slapping playfully at his hands, but he was not to be dissuaded and you weren’t really putting up any resistance. There was an urgency that surrounded him—thick and consuming. The air seemed to ripple with tiny vibrations that had not been there moments earlier and you eased into the sensations like sinking into a perfectly hot bath.

His strong forearms flexed as he pawed and massaged your breasts through the thin material of your dress, pinching at your budding nipples until you were fervently grinding against his prominent erection.

You barely had time to draw breath as the sound of his belt being unbuckled was followed by the drag of metal teeth being eased apart. Kento’s cologne enveloped your senses, the familiar warm notes tickling your nose and had you reaching back a hand to thread your fingers through his perfectly parted hair. Your toes curl against the tiled floor, expectation bubbling low and hot in your belly.

“I’m a lucky man,” he murmured into the soft curve of your neck. His lips left wet spots in a pattern only known to him, sucking marks that he would later finger and examine with that faint little smile that never failed to make your heart stutter in your chest.

“Then I’m a lucky woman,” you countered, ending on a gasp when the straps of your dress eased off your shoulders and fell to your elbows.

Kento hummed. His brain couldn’t stop conjuring the image of you growing with his seed, of the glow that would accompany such a venture and the flutter of kicks he would feel when laying his palms over your stomach. You stilled; the gears in your head whirring when he touched your belly and his hips rutted forward to saw the thick impression of his cock through the cleft of your backside.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart. That’s it… good girl.”

The skirt of your dress lifted to reveal your bare behind, forcing you to brace a hand atop the counter and you twisted your head to watch as he pulled the weight of his cock free from his underwear, purple and leaking fat pearls of precum. Your mouth watered, jaw falling slack when his fingers trailed the length of your slit, thumb rubbing gentle circles atop your throbbing clit. Kento pumped his impressive length, once twice, but he was more than ready to be accepted by your body.

The height difference made it a little awkward but Kento was a man on a mission, widening his stance and bending his knees until he notched at the flexing entrance of your cunt and pushed in on a grunt of exaltation. A shudder rippled down his spine, his teeth set whilst he fought the primal urge to let go immediately. He was wound nearly to breaking point with the need to pump his load into you and keep it there, but the fraying strands of his manners persisted.

Your toes barely touched the floor as he forced you to bend against the counter, your face right next to the sheet of cookies you had been ready to bake. The stretch of his girth made you hiss and writhe like a snake but he held you firm until he could bottom out and soothe the burning need you both felt.

Kento was still, his chest heaved as he fought down the urge to pound you stupid until your cunt was drooling on the floor and saliva pooled from your mouth.

“I think it’s about time I bred this sweet little pussy. Don’t you think, sweetheart?”

“Kento!”

He threw back his head; the rhythmic clench of your velvet walls betraying the shock of your voice. He smiled into your hair, kneading the fat of your breasts with rough hands and pistoned his hips harder and faster.

“Mm, I thought so. Let’s see how many loads you can take tonight. Then we can start all over again in the morning…”

[hamletthedane]

Nobody was doing it like Mary Magdalene. Tits out. Standing on a mountain. Holding a skull. She’s like the lesbian catholic hamlet. Aesthetically an absolute win for the gays.

[xxangeldustanalogx]

they call it a fapdose because its too unpleasant and not interesting enough to do anything other than jerk off to distract yourself until the weird ass fuckin body load goes away

[st-hedge]

I hand in my cv to paint the backgrounds for the 2d Zelda movie

[bigfatbreak]

Birds of a Feather previous / next

[existingoutofspite]

i just had this vivid image of gideon and harrow where during a typical bone-y conversation gideon points at her bicep and goes “what bone is this” harrow answers “your humerus” gideon responds “i know i am- but what is it?” and harrow just decks her

[hollytree33]

Hi so I might’ve made a painting of my Inquisitor while trying to mimic Solas’s style so I can pretend he made it

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

We all know about magical fatigue as a whump trope for magical overuse. Now I raise you: Magical euphoria.

Magic that feels good to use. It leaves the user dizzy and lightheaded, a giddy energy rushing through their entire body. It's enough to leave the most stoic whumpee giggling madly, to make the most obedient soldier go rogue. It's a power that ultimately, inevitably, controls its user.

Mages aren’t trusted to act on their own. They can’t be, not when each spell costs them their sanity. Not when, in a daze of manic joy, they’re just as liable to destroy the enemy as their allies.

And so they need a handler.

Imagine Caretaker in this situation. Forced to watch Whumpee throw themselves into madness, to turn themselves into an unthinking weapon under the demand of some uncaring general. Having to put aside their affection for Whumpee as a person, and analyze them as a tool.

It’s Caretaker who decides when Whumpee is still fit for battle. It’s caretaker who has to look into their dazed and distant eyes, blood dripping into a too wide smile, and decide if Whumpee has anything else to give.

It’s Caretaker who decides when they’re too far gone, when Whumpee needs to stop. And if Whumpee can’t, it’s Caretaker’s job to make them stop. Even if that means using force, even if it means hurting them, because letting them run wild isn’t an option.

And when the battle’s over, when Whumpee is either led or dragged away to the medical wing, Caretaker’s the only one brave enough to tend to their injuries. They wrap bleeding, scorched fingers without a word, the only sound being Whumpee babbling, mad ramblings. Caretaker knows they won’t remember any of this. They still talk to Whumpee anyway, soft, comforting words they hope will bring Whumpee back faster.

And when whumpee’s eyes finally clear, when their body sags with exhaustion they’re just now able to feel, Caretaker feels nothing but grief, because it’ll start all over again tomorrow.

[milesofstars]

im firmly of the belief that batmans cape is just a hotspot for batkids, in the same way as if you touched a spider and a load of mini spiders just erupt from nowhere and you go WTF?? thats batman.

he goes somewhere on a regular justice league mission and then by the end hes just like "alright time to go to the batcave" and suddenly 6 fully grown adults and a child pop out and are like "can we get batburger on the way" and every jl member loses their shit

[justaz]

merlin gets sick. like. bad sick. maybe its a curse maybe its natural idk all i know is that merlin gets sick. he has a fever so high he is somewhat delirious. his whole body hurts. he feels like death. he ends up traversing the castle to enter arthur’s chambers and climbs into bed next to him. he was in pain and felt like shit and in his delirious state, he went to the one person who could always offer him comfort. arthur wakes to find merlin curled up next to him, his tunic fisted tightly in his hand as if to keep arthur where he was. gaius quietly walks in and extracts merlin from the bed, apologizing and explaining that merlin was ill and delirious with the fever. merlin is being tugged out of bed, away from arthur.

he’s fighting as best he can which, considering he’s sick, isn’t that good as gaius doesn’t even blink. then merlin is being dragged across the room, away from arthur and his body heat which was chasing away the chills and his touch was easing his pain. merlin starts complaining, whining more like, about how he wants arthur. gaius apologizes again and says he’ll send for a replacement to serve him before finally getting merlin out of arthur’s chambers and back to his own bed. gaius steps out for an hour to retrieve herbs from the town and returns to finds arthur curled around merlin in his little cot in his room, merlin fisting arthur’s tunic and arthur’s hand rubbing up and down merlin’s back.

[inkykeiji]

do you think caleb gets (outrageously) turned on when he sees you doing something domestic??? laundry, dishes, folding his clothes, baking, sweeping the floor??? the most basic, innocuous domesticities???

because i do!!! i do think he gets turned on by it!!! and i think he hopes you get turned on by him performing domestic activities, too: tinkering with his car in the garage, fingernails framed with grease and oil-stained coveralls half undone and tied around his waist; or little blades of grass stuck to his glistening chest & twined through strands of umber hair; or his long, long legs stretched out on the bathroom tile, his torso buried in the sink cabinets as he fixes some leaky pipe???

because ​it’s almost perverted, just how aroused he becomes when he sees you being domestic—cock twitching hot n heavy in his jeans, eyes dark and lids weighted with lust, sweat beginning to prickle at the base of his skull as saliva collects beneath his tongue; a hunger sparked in his chest, something primal and raw and so incredibly deprived—and he needs you to feel it, too.