#dove sink

[mrs-trophy-wife]

[cupids-stimboards]

foptober stimboards - day 18 board based off: cupid

🕊️ 💌 ☕ / 👔 x 👔 / ☕ 💌 🕊️

[loserchildhotpants]

hello i am sooooooo sad and lethargic and sick and it would make me soooooo happy if you gave my exhaustively researched Titanic!AU w destiel and samwena, Three Princes, a read ; A ;

i didn't put warnings on it (for Reasons) but also jsyk do not STOP reading before the epilogue :)))))

but look! i made art for it and there's songs for each chapter and switching POVs and there's extensive smut and there's booze smuggling and dancing and tragic backstories and pining and all sorts of stuff!!!

is Cas a Russian priest? almost! does Dean have Stage 4 Mommy Issues? you bet! does Sam sweat loudly around a milf that could kill him w a glance? more than once! is Rowena complex and morally grey while still maintaining a likable charm? i - i mean, god i hope i worked really hard on this one, guys!!

if u give it a chance, leave a comment on it or let me know what u thought of it here or on the cursed bird app - my focus is shot rn bc of meds and illness so i can't really get any further w my current WIPs atm and i need external validation or i shall simply whither away to dust on the wind T A T

imma tag folks (if u want me to remove u from the list lemme know slkdhfj this feels a little brazen of me to tag people ?? but everyone im tagging seems so nice and supportive and im a poor little meow meow rn so)

@queerstudiesnatural @starcrosseddeancas @casblackfeathers @casdeanel @emeraldcas @castiel

[ganondoodle]

I just wanna say firstly that i adore your artwork and takes6on Zelda in general! Secondly, much as I wish you never had to deal with the frustrations of creating (especially when you tack on the stress of being on any kind of social platform), I'm glad you talk about your struggle. I've heard people talk about art block every day since I learned what Art was, but nobody ever mentioned "painting oneself into a corner". It's such an apt description that is so infuriatingly relatable that I had to stop eating to thank you for putting it into words. I really appreciate that you're willing to talk about your setbacks in a place like Tumblr, and still share your arts and thoughts. All the best from US of hellscape A, i hope you're doing well.

Thank you!

i used to call it artblock as well, its the most normalized term i guess; i randomly started calling it painting myself into a corner when i got stuck or frustrated on a painting bc welll, it sure feels like it, you painted the walls all around you and dont know how to get out now

it usually happens when i stop having fun and just draw what i want and instead keep subconsciously forcing myself into arbitrary rules; in my case its usually trying to be too perfect, i try to adhere to the sketch, i try to make every block of color have a perfectly clean edge, separate the drawing into way too many layers and am afraid to delete or erase anything, i tense up my whole body as frustration builds bc of impatience as this method of painting does not work for me at all and in the end lose motivation on it all and my nerves are stretched thin (i work best when i think as little as possible, just kinda loosely letting my hand do what it wants on few layers and no specific plan, after losing that its hard to get it back)

having those low moments with your art is normal as your skill grows, but even knowing so, and having gone through it countless times, it never stops making you feel like shit, and its especially frustrating when it happens when you just got enough time to work on stuff or have alot of ideas but you cant get it to work

(and funnily enough it also tends to happen after another work of mine got more attention than i thought .. even worse when it was just a sketch bc now i got the pressure on me to actually finish it and the fear of it doing worse once done looms over the whole thing- which doesnt mean i dont want people to interact with my wips, bc that also has an extremely demotivating factor to it bc it makes me think no one cares or it sucks and doesnt deserve the time i would need to spend on finishing it; also .. alot of my wips stay wips forever, which is fine, but like .. you cant always expect a finished tm version to happen)

i do find it a little funny you praise me for talking openly about it bc i am notoriously unable to shut up ever and only recently got better at NOT talking as much about it when i feel as shitty as this bc it doesnt really help anyone and gets annoying really fast xD (im also notoriously unable to not post absolutely everything bc i got no one to show it to and otherwise it will just collect dust on my harddrive so i might as well throw it out there no matter how much i might hate it, someone else might still enjoy it anyway)

and greetings back from the -not really much less of a hellscape- that is germany o/

[thefabelmans2022]

so many actors who NEED to be doing musicals but either can't or won't. the biggest stars in film used to be CLAMOURING for a musical we used to be a proper country.

[darksprit06]

Kinda want to start posting on here.... should I?

[the-vast-corner-of-the-galaxy]

VISIONS OF MANDALORE- DREAM CAST

Hi, I am still alive, and I am here ready to bring my dream cast for Visions of Mandalore if it ever gets the chance to become a show or a movie (which will never happen, I know). Anyways, here is the first part of the cast for the Kryze family (ft. Obi Wan)

Satine Kryze interpreted by:

McKenna Grace or Dove Cameron

***

Obi Wan Kenobi interpreted by:

Walker Scobell, Sebastian Croft, or Jaren Lewison

***

Bo Katan Kryze interpreted by:

Raegan Revord or Sadie Sink

***

Adonai Kryze (Satine and Bo's dad) interpreted by:

Brad Pitt, Chris Evans, or Ewan McGregor

***

Erica Kryze (Satine and Bo's mom) interpreted by:

Emma Stone, Evangeline Lily, or Virginia Kull

Keep in mind that Satine, Obi, and Bo are teenagers in this story, which is why the actors I chose were young-ish.

Also, PLEASE give me suggestions on who else could be on the dream cast, and suggest any teen/young actors who can easily interpret Bo Katan or Satine (and also Obi Wan) since this took SO LONG too make.

I know Ewan as Satine's dad may seem criminal since Ewan will forever be known as Obi Wan, but I just can't really picture anyone else playing Duke Adonai because Ewan just resembles him so well.

The next part will include Qui Gon and people from Clan Vizsla, who will be in the next part of the story.

(btw, Erica Kryze is my OC for mama Kryze)

[mochiwrites]

Impulse and Scar have been on opposite sides before. Hippies and Area 77. HEP and the Mycelium Resistance. Bdubs and the clock in 3rd Life. And sure, Impulse forgives easily. Bdubs and the clock in Double Life. He sang about Tango betraying him and they’re still best friends. But, Impulse and Grian have always been close and who wouldn’t want to date the handsome Mumbo Jumbo. Impulse doesn’t need to feel like he has to date Scar too after Boatem. Better to have someone break up with you because you shot him than because he realized that he never liked you that way. (Someone please have these men negotiate their relationship before they both convince themselves that the other hates them.)

I have. had this sitting in my inbox. so I could give this the proper attention it deserves. and I am YELLING -- anon I need you to know I was in a vault vc and that last line???? that "better to have someone break up with you because you shot him than because he realized that he never liked you that way"?!?!?!?!?!??! THE AGONY THAT LEFT ME. I sat there GENUINELY speechless.

ahems, right, so, yes. GOD the amount of LAYERS TO THIS??????

scar and impulse have NEVER been on the same side. not once. sure, there was 3rd life, but was impulse really on anyone's side? and last life,,, that's all foggy for scar anyways. but out of the four of them, impulse and scar are probably the least close? so what reason would impulse have for liking him? the only connection they have is boatem. their dynamic is nothing like grian's or mumbo's.

so scar goes into this resistance thinking all of this and maybe he's always admired impulse, y'know? he's a rather handsome fellow and his redstone brain is downright admirable. scar could sit with him and mumbo and listen as they talk redstone (even if he wouldn't understand any of it. but understanding isn't the point. it's listening. it's letting himself exist with them just because he can). but he's 99.9% sure it's all one sided.

so this act of his.... it becomes a way of protecting himself from heartbreak. cut impulse off before he has the chance to hurt him (though he's sure that impulse would let him down gently, because that's just the kind of person impulse is).

and then flip to impulse and GOD. what doesn't he like about scar??? he's always admired him as a landscaper and builder, but then he gets to live with him in boatem and Oh Wow scar has a really nice smile. and he's really helpful whenever impulse asks him for help. and over their months he's developing feelings and oh god help him.

s8 ends before any member of imumscarian can talk about their feelings.

the resistance begins and suddenly impulse and scar are on opposite sides again and really, at some point you start to wonder if this is all your relationship with someone is meant to be. and THEN he hears scar talking about killing the soup group and oh,,,, cue impulse rethinking everything and wondering if scar just tolerated him for grian and mumbo. because scar is much closer to the two of them, and he can see how the three of them are very much swimming in feelings and he just. he wonders.

and then maybe. just maybe. it becomes a game of "hurt them before they hurt you" for both sides.

[lightyakami]

also just sharing this unprompted but there is SO much secret bonus lore for the things you tame that i am secretly working on a companion but it takes place in like, an alternate universe in which both kami & yokai are known and recognized entities. light is (as most kitsune are) a servant of the kami inari & it’s just moved from the much more yokai-friendly kyoto region to the much more restrictive tokyo, which is one of the reasons it’s so careless about its activities and frankly taken aback that L would capture it just for acting according to its nature (eating people.) L and matsuda are both part of a task force which enforces tokyo’s preference for yokai to not like, eat human beings. light is also friends with ryuk, for whom it has a certain degree of deference bc it is also in its nature to feel that kami should be respected by yokai

[teddybeartoji]

@twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat

Nikolai ._ .

[bettermetalgoat]

*a dove flies in through your open window and pecks at you

Who opened that window? Aww man I’m gonna have to invest in better window locks.

Also shoo dove! Shoo! Go make your funky nest in the tree over there and stop trying to make your nest in the bathroom sink! The cats WILL eat you if you don’t leave. I’ve already annoyed one of them by giving him a bath today so he won’t listen to me if I tell him to leave you alone.

[th3houseofleaves]

thinking abt dove baek and how they've done a variety of illegal things to survive and they justify all of it bc it was for their survival right and as an adult they're avoiding breaking the law as much as possible bc they have to be a good influence for sparrow bc they don't want him to pick up any of their bad behaviors right but at the same time they're super nonchalant and open abt some of the stuff they did (there's some things that are going to stay buried forever thank you very much) so sparrow absolutely picks up on that energy and the first (and only) time dove has to come pick their son up after he's caught stealing they're incredibly upset – at him but mostly themself – and they fear for their LIFE bc it's totally going to be blamed on them and while karina isn't gonna hold it against them forever she won't be happy abt it and her parents will be even more upset.

meanwhile sparrow thinks he's done some cool shit and doesn't understand why everyone's not being chill about it

[crushingsterilisation]

[kashverse]

gojo calls you every name but your actual name—sweetheart, baby, pookie bear, sometimes even "oi, babe"—but never your actual name. so when he finally did, when he looked at you dead in the eyes and said it, your whole body stiffened. "are you okay?" you asked immediately, squinting at him like he was on his deathbed. "blink twice if you need help." you even reached out to check his forehead for a fever, because surely, this was a medical emergency. gojo just blinked at you, utterly confused, before doubling over in laughter. "you seriously think i'm unwell just 'cause i said your name? that's so messed up—i love it."

nanami calls you every name but your actual name—dear, love, sometimes just a heavy sigh paired with a side glance. so when he actually did, when his voice dropped and he spoke your name with the weight of a thousand bricks, you felt your stomach sink. "is this a breakup?" you blurted out before he could even continue. nanami blinked at you, his brow twitching. "what?" you crossed your arms. "you're using my actual name," you pointed out. "is this a professional resignation from this relationship?" nanami exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "no. i was just asking if you wanted coffee." but the damage was done. you spent the rest of the day side-eyeing him, just in case.

geto calls you every name but your actual name—angel, sunshine, princess, even "chipmunk" when you get on his nerves. so when he finally did, when he said your name with a certain weight, you panicked. "oh my god," you gasped. "you found out, didn't you?"

"found out what?" his eyes narrowed. "the shampoo," you admitted, guilt weighing heavy on your conscience. "i've been using your fancy shampoo. that’s why you keep running out so fast." geto just stared at you, eyes unreadable. then, very slowly, he leaned back, crossed his arms, and nodded. "that explains a lot."

"are you mad?"

"no. just disappointed." ouch.

toji calls you every name but your actual name—doll, sweetheart, brat, depending on his mood. so when he actually did, when he gritted out your name over the phone in the middle of the night, your stomach dropped. "oh my god," you whispered. "are you dying?"

"what?"

"you're out on a job, aren't you? is this a last words kind of call? should i be preparing for the worst?" toji groaned, the sound of gunfire faint in the background. "jesus. i just needed you to grab my extra ammo from the closet."

"oh."

"...but now that you mention it, maybe bring a first aid kit too."

choso calls you every name but your actual name—babe, honey, sometimes just a hum of acknowledgment. so when he actually did, when he uttered your name so carefully, you felt your chest tighten. "you're friendzoning me," you whispered, horror-stricken. "this is the end." choso blinked, his face scrunching up in genuine confusion. "what? no. i was just—"

"it's okay," you sniffed. "you wanted to let me down easy, huh? didn't want to go for the direct breakup."

"babe, i was literally just asking if you wanted extra sauce on your food." but it was too late. you had already started mourning your relationship.

sukuna calls you every name but your actual name—dove, brat, little one, sometimes even "human" when he's particularly irritated. so when he finally did, when his voice wrapped around your name with sharp precision, your survival instincts kicked in immediately. "listen, listen, i didn't do anything," you pleaded, hands raised. "whatever it is, it wasn't me. i swear. please don't kill me." sukuna just stared at you, unimpressed. "i was literally just calling you."

"yeah, exactly," you said, eyes darting for possible escape routes. "why would you use my actual name unless i'm in serious danger? is this a death sentence? am i about to be vaporized?" sukuna rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply. "you're so dramatic."

"says the one who tears people apart for fun!"

[muntitled]

Force-Fed

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: You didn't need a job. Not when you only needed him.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Language, Coercion, Standards Relationship, Abuse, Isolation, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Jealousy, Codependency, Stalking, Yandere!Salesman, Smut (+18) mdni, DDLG, Taboo Sex (she literally calls him dad), Freudian Slip, Daddy Kink, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Subspace, Slight!Age Regression, Choking, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Dacryphillia, Breeding Kink

A/n: If this isn't your vibe, leave the fic alone. Read something else. Like always I'm not responsible for the media you consume.

Installing a mobile tracker on your phone might not have been the most morally good thing to do, that he could admit. Perhaps even more incriminating is that the idea struck him while you were passed out on the floor, your body thoroughly spent from all his ravaging. He was nothing if not an inquisitive man and he needed to see what you got up to during the week, when you were without him. (Note: this started out as a precaution. For your own good. You ought to be thankful to have someone like him in your life).

Who knew that the tracker would bring him here?

His jaw is screwed shut as he leans down under the awning of a building, spotting you through the window of a tired coffee shop, donning a uniform he hadn't even known you owned- it set him alight with a certain level of possessiveness that was foreign to him.

He admits that before you, he'd never had much use for any pointless emotions like love or care. They were, at their very core function, just hormones injected into the brain in order to trick humans into reproduction. That's what he saw you as for the longest time: A means of reproduction. A conduit through which he could fulfill all his most absurd fantasies- fantasies that scared even himself.

When he hit you, fondled you, groped you or stretched your body beyond its tantalizing capabilities, he truly believed he was making you useful, and in return for your services you got to coast through university without having to worry about bills.

That's what it was supposed to be. Nothing less and certainly nothing more.

So what the hell is this?

Today is a Tuesday and your 'sessions' together are scheduled on Wednesday. He ought to just keep on walking and go about the rest of his day forgetting having ever seen you.

As far as your agreement was concerned, you were strictly expected to leave him to his devices throughout the week- it never occurred to him that he would also be expected to leave you to yours.

It makes him tsk, seeing you scrub the counters of a cafe... as if you didn't have him to provide for you.

Had he not provided you with enough?

Had you not gotten everything you wanted?

You were like a dog without a leash.

And his hand was itching to pull you right back to him.

He walks into the coffee shop before his brain is finished processing his movements.

"Good afternoon-" greeted the young man behind the counter. The place smelt like roasted coffee beans and debt. It's obvious in the very few patrons milling about that this business was doomed to fail. Your Salesman had a knack for spotting abject poverty and the owner- your boss, one Lee Junmin was teetering on the edge of financial ruin. It's a very good thing that your Salesman is here to save you from this sinking ship.

"Good afternoon," your salesman says stiffly, almost amicably.

He finds you mid-conversation with your coworker. There's a smile on your face as you crane your neck back, holding a cup under the burning faucet of a coffee machine. You're speaking amicably and you're still smiling. Genuinely. Not at all the robotic smile you reserved for the Salesman during your 'sessions'.

He realises now, watching you with a real smile plastered on your face, that you had been lying to him. You don't seem as broken as you claim to be. Seeing you here, assimilated into society. Sporting a part time job?

His knuckles clench around the handle of his briefcase. He was brimming with the need to punish you for it.

It's absurd.

To punish someone for being a fully functional human being. Not even his own psychological issues could adequately reason that.

The younger boy behind the counter rests a hand on your shoulder, finally letting your eyes settle on the tall Salesman behind the counter.

He can see the moment your breath catches in your throat.

How he wishes he had his heavy hands wrapped tight around that throat. He'd choke you for trying to get rid of him. For trying to... not need him.

"Could you take care of this customer? I need to go out for a break-" Your co-worker mumbles quietly and your heart drops like a bag of dipped in molten lava at the sight of him standing there on the opposite end of the counter. There's a smug sort of smirk playing across his features. I've caught the traitor, now it's off with your head.

You begrudgingly steel your nerves before turning to face your co-worker again, trying to even your breathing as you assimilate back into your easy banter, "And how many times have I told you smoking is bad for you-"

Your co-worker raises his tattooed hands, sporting a boyish grin. It's oddly refreshing to interact with a boy your age- someone normal who wasn't drowning in psychopathic tendencies or bullying homeless people for fun.

"Who said I'm going for a smoke break?" He asks, as you slide up to the counter. You situated yourself behind the barrier as if it was going to keep you safe. You knew nothing could keep you safe from the tense shadow hovering over your benefactor's eyes. The Salesman is livid as your co-worker finally makes himself scarce and after a few tense seconds, he finally speaks.

"I didn't know you did this." He says, staring you down the bridge of his nose.

Play it calm. Play it cheeky. Play it coy.

"You didn't know I make coffee?" That snooty remark doesn't earn you a single gratifying chuckle. It doesn't even earn you a soft, meaningless smile. In contrast, all it gets you is monotony. He's pissed.

"Worked." He spits out, "I didn't know you worked."

You only manage to stare up at him, silently before turning your attention to the screen in front of you.

There were a great many things he had already stolen from you- full autonomy over your body being the greatest loss. You'd raise up hell itself before you truly let him strip you of your independence.

"What can I get you for today?" Swift. Curt. Professional. As if you hadn't felt this man inside you. As if he hadn't choked you out until your vision was sparkling with stars. As if you didn't have his cock down your throat. No one here knew about your arrangement. In this coffee shop, you were safe from your history with the Salesman.

"Americano," You sigh softly, thinking he'll respect you enough to keep things professional. Poor, naive you.

“Tell them you quit." He says, forcing you to look up at his cold, dead orbs. "Do it now."

Your finger pause over the screen and your breathing picks up.

He couldn't do this. Not here. Not when you've finally found refuge away from him, his sadism, his demands and his reminders that he held the keys to you obtaining your degree. This coffee shop was the one place he couldn't reach you...

So why were you already on the cusp of giving in?

Your eyes flit over to the few patrons milling about before staring up at the man on the other side of the counter. Daylight was dwindling and beyond the windows, the city was drenched in an orange, almost pink late afternoon glow.

"Your order's coming right up."

"This place is going bankrupt soon. They'll fire you. It's better you quit now before they do." Your hands falter as you struggle to swallow that deeply authoritative veneer in his voice. That fatherly sort of guidance. Be careful, it said.

"Oh, this is you protecting me?" You hated that this was taking place at work, but business is indeed slow and the only other worker here is in the back of the building, smoking away his problems.

"Not protecting you." He says with a shake of his head, as a slow smile curls the ends of his lips, "Warning you."

You rolled your eyes then. It made his hand twitch with the need to correct you. To force you to submit to him. If there's one thing he couldn't stand, it's a rabid little girl.

"You can have a seat while you wait for your Americano-"

"Fuck the Americano." It comes out louder than he intended. It's a surprise, just like the vein popping out of his forehead. His mask was slipping.

"Tell them you wanna quit." He says in a much softer, more in-control tone of voice. He leans against the counter so that the words exchanged are heard only by the two of you.

There is deep anger and menace in his eyes. You can see the warning in them. Its blood-red and calling for you to just submit.

But you're feeling particularly brave. And so you immediately respond.

"Or what?"

"Or I’ll fucking kill you. You or that co-worker." His gaze fits to the door through which the boy disappeared as he sighed and said, "Remember the roommate's boyfriend?"

How could you ever forget?

There was blood.

So much blood.

Who knew humans were walking around with that much blood inside them?

"You want to threaten me out of having a job?" You were losing this battle and quickly. Desperation is the only thing you cling to as your eyes peer up at him.

"Want to?" He shakes, “Little Girl, I am threatening you. Quit now. Your co-worker would greatly appreciate it.”

He taps that counter once before taking a seat. "I'll get that Americano to go."

𓂃

Devastation.

A hyperbole of sadness and a pure manifestation of self pity that overwhelmed you in the taxi ride back to your apartment. Your mind replayed the confusion that graced your co-workers friendly face when you told him you 'just couldn't work here anymore'. The genuine sadness in his eyes had stopped you dead in your tracks. It triggered tears that you didn't even know you had because he actually made you feel loved.

Real love, not the fake stuff given to you by this hulking man seated silently in the taxi beside you.

The interior is flooded with neon lights and myriad little stars are plastered in the black sky.

"Fix your face," he grumbles without looking at you, "You're ruining everyone's mood."

You went the rest of taxi ride, sulking up a storm, until you arrived at your apartment building where you didn't look at him once, as you rode the elevator up, up, and up.

While you were contemplating genuine suicide, he, on the other hand, was one of the happiest- if not the happiest man on the planet.

He told you to correct your mood but the truth is he loved it. He loved seeing you so juvenile, as if you were teetering on the edge of a tantrum he so badly wanted to correct. He loved seeing you sulk like a child. It set his bones alight with a deep, uncomparable need.

He thought pain was the only thing that got his dick hard.

Perhaps he stands corrected.

"Take off your shoes," he hollers in that same tone of authority once you've entered your apartment building. You're like a ghost as you turn to kick your shoes off at the door before lugging your body deeper into the house. He watches you drop your handbag right there on the floor, before you're throwing yourself on the couch, face first like a sack of potatoes.

He attempts to hide his smile as he walks in along after you. He undoes the buttons of his blazer as he stands above you, eyeing you under a quirked brow as your shoulders begin to wrack with your tears.

He shrugs off the blazer before folding it on the nearest armchair.

You flinch when you feel his hand on your foot, lifting it up to make space for his large frame lowering onto the couch.

That infuriatingly warm voice is back as he quietly asks "Why are you crying?"

He extends his hands to the small of your back, rubbing dizzying circles while you cry and cry. He's comforting you after being the very reason you need comfort in the first place. Everything about this man is one big contradiction.

"I thought you'd be happy about this." Your voice is muffled by the cushion. You don't look up at him.

"What on earth would give you the impression that I want you to work?" He asks.

"W-Well," you attempt to rain in your sniffles and he attempts to not visibly grow a boner as your bloodshot eyes finally come into view. You're a beautiful mess for him. Your lashes are wet and your nose is runny and he wants to do so many vile things to you, its eating away at his soul.

He wants to play this game for as long as he can though, this sulking game that he didn't know hed enjoy so much. He settles for setting his hand at the back of your head as you talk.

"If I have a job that means there's less stuff you have to buy for me and-" You answer, sniffling cutely as you sit beside him. You're staring down at your hands fidgeting in your lap while his eyes can't leave the pathetic tears running down your face.

He doesn't think when he says it. He's not thinking about anything other than your body. How little you become for him. How sombre and sullen and sulky you are.

"And what if I prefer it?" He asks softly, "Taking care of you?"

You shake your head, trying to remove his hand ghosting behind you but he only weaves his fingers into your braids, keeping a wonderful grip on your scalp.

"You had no right to do that- you had no right to make me quit."

He leans over, sufficiently done with all these terrible games you've played and forced him to play. He was so dangerously close to combustion, his hands were trembling as he reached over to undo the buttons of your work polo shirt. You let him.

Of course you let him.

"Who was that then? You kissed him before?" His eyes find you before moving back down to the t-shirt. His fingers hook under the ends of the shirt as he lifts it up.

"Who was who? My co-worker?" You sound tired and dejected and you immediately hug yourself when nothing but cool air drifts over your naked torso. He moves a large hand over your breasts, marveling at the sheer size of it, comparing it in his hands. Your body truly was magnificent, he realizes. And all he has done this whole time is try to kill it.

"That... child," he breathes before dropping his hands down to your work pants. He undoes the buttons and you watch him with an intense look in your eye.

"You have a knack for calling every boy my age a child," you say shortly.

"That's because you're young," he admits before tapping your thigh slightly. You lift your hip and let him maneuver you out of the khaki pants, never to be worn again. The smell of coffee still hangs heavily over your skin but it's significantly less intense. Right now all he smells is you.

"And yet," you showcase to him the latest bruise along your collarbone. It's big and angry and hid very easily under the polo shirt. However, here under the overhead lights of your apartment, he could see them, "Look at everything you've ever done to me-"

He groans then. He actually groans.

His eyes flutter shut as his legs spread a little wider and he sinks a little lower into the couch. "Fuck," he whispers, head swinging towards you as he flutters his eyes back open.

"Come sit on my lap?"

His request only catches you remarkably off-guard. “Excuse me?”

"I said come sit on my lap," he replies so defiantly it nearly has your brain short circuiting. You narrow your eyes, not trusting it.

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'? Because I'm hard and I'd like you to sit on my lap."

"Is this another game?" You ask, still remarkably on the fence about the man who had been the pinnacle of sadism, suddenly force-feeding you his affections.

"If you don't sit on my lap I will bring out the cane again, don't tempt me-" before your able to make a decision, he makes one for you- attacking you with his large hands before you're able to protest any further. He wrestles you onto him, forcing you to take what he gave.

You're made to straddle his left thigh as he pulls you in close until your tits are pressed up against his shirt. He buries his head in-between the crook of your neck and you croak out a moan as he inhales you sharply. He hugs you towards him, bouncing you slightly on his knees. The feeling shoots straight to your cunt and you immediately begin to groan on top of him.

With his head over your shoulder, you can feel his fingers grace over the marks he'd left before. The marks from the cane. It scarred your back. Moulding the flesh in his image. Branding you as his

"You're young but you can handle it." He whispers, swiping his thumb over your scars before drifting his hands down to your hip. He slowly begins to drag your hips forward and you gasp, immediately searching for something to grab onto. You settle for his shirt. Your fingers curl around the fabric and he lets you ruin it as he pushes you back slowly on his thigh. He continues these torturous movements until your cunt gets the message and starts acting accordingly.

He watches with a slow nod as you begin to ride his thigh like he's conditioned you to.

"Jeez-" It was the sheer intimacy of the actual act that had your arousal dripping out of you and onto his thigh. You'd never had sex with him- purely for sex. It had always been an act of torture or punishment that had always led to sex. But never something so sexual being done so blatantly .

"Fuck yourself on my thigh-" he whispers hoarsely, almost pained as he urges you along. "You can do it, can't you? You can be a good slut for me?"

An equally pained whimper seeps out of your closed lips as you begin to ride his thigh like your life depends on it- spurred on by darkness in his glare and the bulge tenting his pants.

When you notice him undoing the buttons of those pants you realize you are utterly done for.

"Good little slut," he mumbles as he mindlessly reaches inside his boxers to uncover his cock already dripping precum.

"Open your mouth-" he's already shoving his fingers inside, flattening your tongue in order to collect as much saliva as possible before spreading it all over his cock. You watch in complete wonder as he begins to fuck his fist to the same rhythm you ride his thigh- it's so mesmerizing.

"D-Does this count as a session or-"

"Shh-" he says, squeezing his eyes shut as his hand squeezes the base of his cock.

He fluffers his eyes open again, only to state deeply into your lust-filled gaze.

"I don't think I've ever cum inside you with the actual objective of getting you pregnant." His words completely knock you off-kilter and he needs to bring his hand up to your side to stop you from slipping off his thigh.

He continues to stroke his cock, picking up speed.

"I've only ever just... did it.”

“Pl-Please stop talking-” you mumble, “I’ll cum,”

He doesn't listen.

“I cum inside you 'cus it's what I feel like doing in the moment," you try to stitch every piece of this moment to memory. The wrinkles lining his manic eyes, smile wiped clean from his face, leaving only a serious, aroused look of an incredibly grown, strong man.

"F-Fuck," your hips stutter on top of him as you softly whimper. "D-Dad-"

It cracks out of you.

And almost immediately you wish you could take it back but you're already cumming. And your words have his eyes widened as he lifts his hips from the couch fucking his fist deeper.

"F-Fuck I'm cumming-" he admits oh so gravely as his eyes squeeze shut.

"Me too-" you whimper as your own orgasm splits through you, soaking his thigh and ruining the fabric further.

Beyond a few shallow words, guaranteeing you that you won't be annihilated, he almost never initiates affection. In fact, you weren't even really sure if he was capable of it yet here he was, confessing the only way he knew how.

You're cumming on top of him as spurts of his cum land on his chest, making a mess on his shirt. You're both breathing heavily in the afterglow. The fog has yet to clear.

You sit up slowly, body wracking with aftershocks.

"This was nice but um- I need you to be rougher-" the words barely leave your mouth before he's clamping your throat shut with his fist. He's breathing heavily with his eyes still squeezed shut.

"You don't need anything-" he reminds you quietly, "You don't make demands, you take what I give you."

He squeezes and squeezes your throat like he did his cock.

"You're like a baby being forced fed.” He says, “My baby. My thing to take care of.”

[catbolt]

— SYLUS HEADCANONS

random assorted hcs for my man (fluff, 18+)

would be really into sending you sweaty post-gym bathroom mirror selfies

he thinks it's hot watching you put makeup on and so likes to watch you get ready to go out even if he's not coming with you. you get flustered a little with him just standing by your vanity in silence. "what, is it a crime to watch my beautiful girlfriend get ready for her girls night? then take me to jail. i'll just break out again."

ALWAYS has his hand on the small of your back if you're going literally anywhere it's like an unconscious habit

wears glasses for working or reading but keeps misplacing them so he has like 20 pairs floating around the house at any given time

would be excited when you get your nails done and always wants to help you pick a color/nail art design

very into pet names, always calls you "little dove, little bird, my dove, my flower, honey" etc.

is really bad at putting in contact lenses (dont ask me why i think this but i just know he has to use two hands and then drops them in the sink half the time)

he's a biter during sex and aftercare is kissing and licking every bite (it's the dragon talking)

he def has a size kink and likes being bigger than you. he would so pick you up to get stuff off the top shelf even when he could get it himself just because he likes picking you up

he says "honey i'm home"

when he gets home bc he's corny like that

god at parallel parking

sings in the shower so loudly that it's audible throughout half the mansion

would be an audiophile/into really expensive headphones and speaker setups and would make you test out all his different headphones to try and find the most optimal setup for his music. "what do you mean moving the speaker two inches to the right doesn't make any difference, sweetheart? are your ears working correctly?"

sleeptalks about business when he's stressed which is always how you can tell if he's more stressed out than he's letting on

doesn't use instagram except to send you cat videos

always feeds you bites of his food off his fork to try anytime you're out at a restaurants

part 2!