#everyone is demisexual

[inkskinned]

before you know about women, you hear that you do not need to love the man, just that you need to love him through his manhood. which is to say you have seen the future painted in lamb's blood over your eyes - how your mother shoots you a look about your father's inability to cook right. how your aunt holds her wineglass and says i'm gonna kill em. men, right! how your best friend bickers with her boyfriend, how she says i can't help it. i come back to him.

you learn: men are gonna cheat. men aren't going to listen when you're talking, because you're nagging. men think emotions are stupid. they think your life is vapid and your hobbies are embarrassing. men will slam things, but that's because men are allowed to be angry. if you get loud, you're hysterical. if a man gets loud - well, men are animals, men are dogs, men can't control their hands or their eyes or their bodies. they're going to make a snide comment about you in the locker room, about your body, about how you're so fucking annoying. you're going to give him kids, and he will give you the money for the kids, and you're going to be running the house 24/7 - but he gets to relax after a long day, because his job is stressful. the man is on stage, and is a comedian, and says "women!"

and you are supposed to love that. you are supposed to love men through how horrible they are to you - because that's what women do. that's what good women do. wife material. your father even told you once - it'll make sense when you're older. it was like staring down a very lonely tunnel.

it feels like something's caught in your throat, but it's all you know, so. it's okay that you see sex as a necessary tool, a sort of okay-enough ritual to keep him happy, even though he doesn't seem to care about happiness as-applied-to you. it is relationship upkeep. it is kissing him and smiling even though he didn't brush his teeth. it is getting on your knees and looking up and holding back a sigh because he barely holds you as you panic through the night. it's not like the sex is bad and you do like feeling wanted. and besides! he's a man! like... they're another species. you'll never be able to actually communicate, right. he isn't listening.

you just don't get it. you don't feel that sense of i'm gonna climb him like a tree. mostly it just feels fucking exhausting. you play the part perfectly. you smile and nod and are "effortlessly" charming. and it's fine! it's alright! you even love him, if you're looking. you could have good life, and a good family, and perfectly happy.

in the late night you google: am i broken. you google i'm not attracted to my husband. you google i get turned on by books but not by him. you google how to get better in bed.

the first time he yells at you, it almost feels like blankness. like - of course this is happening. this is always how it was going to end up. men get angry, and they yell, and you sit there in silence.

you mention it to your friend - just the once - while you're drunk. she shrugs and says it's like that with me too, i just try to forget and move on. men are always gonna hear what they want to. pick your battles and say sorry even though he's in the wrong. you play solitaire online for a month. you go to your therapist appointment and preach about how you're both so in love.

after all, you have a future to want. nobody lied about it - how many instagram posts say marriage is hard. say real love takes work. say we fight like cats and dogs but the best part is that we always make up. how many of your friends say happy anniversary to the best and worst thing to ever happen to me. if you really loved him - loved yourself too - you'd accept that men are just different from you.

the first time she kisses you, it's on a dare at a party. something large and terrifying whips through your body. you wake up sweating from dreams where her mouth is encrusted with pearls and you pick them off one by one with your teeth. fuck. you sit at the computer and your almost-finished game of sim city. you think about your potential perfect life and your potential future family. you google am i gay quiz with your little hands shaking.

you delete each letter slowly. you don't need to love him. you just need to keep going.

[dewdropdinosaur]

Transparent Heart

Human! Alastor x Ghost Reader Summary:Alastor needs a new source of inspiration. Nothing sparks that bloodlust anymore, nothing can satiate the growing desires he has for more and more carnage. One night, while all a party with Mimzy, he meets Y/N. Or does he? The sweet woman seems innocent enough but in reality she is a ghost, a being of chaos gilded by a fasle innocence. His new muse may be undead but it sure sparks some life in him. Warnings: Undead reader, smut, mentions of P in V, Alastor is a warning in and of himself, Demi-sexual Alastor, non-sex repulsed. MNDI, 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

Celebrating 500+ followers!! Omg, everyone you cannont imagine my gratitude for this community. I started writing in January and just how much love and support I have recieved is mind-blowing. All of you are freaking amazing and I hope you know I adore you, my lovelies!

Alastor leaned against the dark wall of the burlesque club, his brown eyes scanning the vibrant display of sinful transgression before him, yet feeling none of it. The room pulsed with music, laughter, and the clink of champagne glasses, but none of it stirred him. He should have been thrilled—there were scantily clad dancers twirling and shimmying on stage, Mimzy was in normal form, charming the crowd with her flamboyant flair, and every inch of the room screamed excess. Innocent souls, ripe for the taking. A little southern charm here, a lingering touch there, a knife sliting their throat in a delectable squish that would send shocks of pleasure down his spine. It was a celebration, a riot of decadence that should have made his very soul hum with delight. 

But alas, the radio host. Felt nothing.

Once upon a time, this would have been his kind of night. The heady energy of sin, the delicious tang of chaos, the joy of being surrounded by souls desperate for something—anything—to fill the emptiness inside them. So desperate would they be, to fall into his greedy hands and he would grace them with the gift of death so sweet. It used to fill him with such vigor, such delight, like a fine wine sliding down his throat. But now, it was all just noise. Annoying noise.

The laughter? Grating. The champagne? Flat. The dancers? Nothing more than fleeting distractions. He watched as Mimzy flirted with a particularly tipsy patron, her laughter like tinkling bells, but it was all so... tiresome. 

He tilted his head slightly, and his sharp grin never wavered, but the sparkle in his eyes had dimmed. It was all a game, wasn’t it? A never-ending circus of false joy. No matter how many times he twisted the dance floor or how many souls he swirled into his web, it was all the same. Hollow. 

The feeling had come upon him suddenly a few weeks ago, stuck in a never-ending cycle of ambivalence. Nothing stirred the oh-so-normal bloodlust within his chest anymore. Nothing excited him to enjoy the chase, the screams. 

Alastor’s fingers tapped rhythmically against his glass, his gaze shifting to the stage as the dancers performed their latest number. It was all so… mundane. The bright lights, the glitter, the exaggerated performances—they meant nothing to him anymore. Maybe this is how he died, being a wallflower.

He exhaled softly, his voice barely rising above the cacophony. “Mimzy, darling,” he said, his tone languid, “do you ever get the feeling that all this glorious spectacle is just a bit... tedious?” 

Mimzy, amid her own little charade, paused and shot him a knowing look, her eyes twinkling with a touch of amusement. “Oh, Alastor,” she said, grinning wide. “You sound like you have been alive for centuries? Enjoy a bit of decadence. Pour some whiskey, put on some jazz!”

Alastor’s smile didn’t falter; a shadow passed across his expression. “Maybe that’s the problem, my dear. I’ve danced this dance for far too long.” 

And somewhere, deep in the pit of his chest, a voice whispered: Is there anything left to live for?

In the middle of his mid-but young-life crisis, a soft tap planted itself on his shoulder. His body became rigid, a dangerous flash passing through his eyes at the unwelcome contact. It was not entirely unpleasant, cold and soft. Strange, considering he hated all touch but one could suppose he had too much to drink. 

Alastor turned slowly to face the guilty party, only to find a petite woman standing before him. Pale, no doubt, almost sickly looking if her eyes hadn’t been the faintest shade of amber that brought the only sense of warmth to her face. Her hair was a light blonde, or was it gray? He couldn’t tell. All he knew was that this little pet had imposed themselves—

“If you are done staring, mister, may I continue my question?” 

Alastor blinked, his sharp gaze narrowing slightly. The soft tap had already left a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, and now this woman, audacious and unsettling, dared to speak to him as if he were some mere pedestrian. 

"What question?" His voice was smooth but cold, each syllable wrapped in the chill of his natural cynicism. It wasn’t the first time someone had approached him on a whim, but there was something different about this one. Something off-kilter, like a mismatched note in a song—one that lingered just long enough to be more than a fleeting annoyance.

The woman tilted her head slightly, the pale light accentuating the faint shadows beneath her eyes. There was something about her eyes, too—lifeless but sharp as a hawk’s. She seemed entirely unperturbed by his cold demeanor. 

"I was wondering," she began, her voice soft yet steady, "if you intend to stand like a wallflower all night or become something worth my time?"

Alastor’s eyebrows twitched, and his lips curled into something akin to a grin, though it was closer to a wolf’s smirk than anything resembling warmth. A question like that—drenched in disrespect, a dance with death itself. Was she…playing with him?

“Is that so?” His voice was laced with amusement, yet his eyes remained icy. “And what would a fragile little thing like yourself do with finding me interesting?”

The woman didn’t flinch. Instead, she tilted her head just slightly more, a ghost of a smile appearing at the corner of her lips. “I’ve seen it,” she murmured. “How you find no pleasure in this display around us. It’s no stranger to you and I am not a stranger to it either. I see you come in here and revel every week until recently. Why is that?

For a moment, Alastor was silent. He had heard words like these before, though they usually came from those who lacked any real understanding of the ruthless, visceral nature of existence. But something about her tone, so deliberate, so knowing, stirred something within him. Something deep. Why would someone he had never met, though who apparently watched him, ask such a personal question?

“Well aren’t you a brazen one, my dear. I would suppose, these events have just lost their…usefulness.”

“Oh, because you kill people?” 

He hadn’t expected that at all. How did she know? How could he play this off? A shadow passed over his gaze, darkened as he looked down at the calm woman. She was baffling…but certainly, the most intriguing thing he had interacted with in a while. He hadn’t expected anyone—let alone a delicate little creature like her—to speak with such clarity about the one thing he’d devoted his entire being to understanding: death. But then again, he realized, perhaps this little conversation had more teeth than he’d first assumed. 

Grabbing her wrist discreetly but with a vice hold, he dragged his newfound muse into an empty room on the other end of the club. Throwing her in the room, he assumed her frail stature might cause her to fall, but instead, she simply looked like she floated across the floor. Strange. 

He chuckled, but the sound was dry, devoid of humor. “You’re quite the curious thing,” he said, his eyes glinting as he regarded her more closely. “Now, how does a little thing like you, make such a bold assumption as that?”

“Well, I have seen you,” she replied simply, her gaze meeting his with a directness that was both unnerving and intoxicating. “You are quite clean with it I must say, well, except for the eating part…but then again I guess everyone has their preferences.”

Alastor was taken aback. A brief flicker of something like appreciation passed through his mind, quickly followed by annoyance. Was she toying with him? Was this an act, some mask for her true fragility? 

For a moment, he considered walking away, dismissing her as yet another oddity to forget. But the words she spoke lingered in his thoughts, gnawing at him like a restless hunger.

"What about you, Alastor?" she continued, her voice softening, almost as though she were coaxing him, "Do you fight it? The lack of bloodlust you’re feeling? Or do you surrender to the inevitable?"

Her words hung in the air between them, and the sound of her quiet challenge echoed in Alastor’s mind long after she’d spoken. He exhaled sharply through his nose, irritation flashing across his features. This woman had a way of pushing him in ways he didn’t particularly enjoy. 

And yet…

He growled lowly, stalking up to her with an imposing stance. Just kill her now, kill the witness. All his problems would go away, he could go back to standing on that stupid wall, drinking that flat champagne.

He glanced at her, a flicker of something approaching amusement in his eyes. Or…or he could have the most fun he had in weeks.

 "I suppose I don't have the luxury of surrender," he said, his tone colder now, sharper. "I’ve long since learned that life is more… interesting when you push against its edges. Though, I confess, there’s something rather invigorating about someone who understands the dance with death as well as you do."

She smiled this time a full, knowing grin. “I thought you’d understand,” she said with quiet certainty, leaning closer just enough for him to catch the scent of something oddly familiar—something sharp, like iron or fresh rain. “The world doesn’t stop spinning just because we want to rest. We can’t simply wait for the end to come. Until it gets here. No, Alastor, it’s all about taking it—grabbing hold of that final moment and making it yours.”

At first, Alastor found himself irritated by her relentless inquiries, the audacity with which she wove her words into the space between them. He considered walking away several times, but then, a strange thing happened.

Then, the irritation faded.

The longer they spoke, the more he felt the edges of his personality, drawn out by her words, her very presence. She was no weakling, no frightened soul. No, this woman was a kindred spirit of sorts—a creature of the abyss who spoke the language he had long since mastered.

But he supposed, it had gone on long enough. Even those whom he found mildly amusing had their time to go. And now, this woman had come to hers. Walking over to a desk in the room, he pulled the drawer open with the mask of preparing himself a drink. This was his typical room…to engage in his activities. As the woman faced away from him, staring blankly at the wall with what seemed ignorance, he approached. The blade was hidden deftly behind his back. 

“Well, my dear, as pleasant as this has been, I think it’s time we end this little game of ours.”

Raising the blade to her throat, he made the slice with a quickness that came with practiced ease. 

Only sweet, rich, red blood did not spill from her body for him to lap with reckless abandon. Her head remained intact, the blade leaving no mark. Backing up in mild shock, Alastor’s eyes widened in what he could only call horrific intrigue. How much had he had to drink?!

“Now, that was rather a rude thing to do.�� The woman’s head turned…180 degrees, backward facing him. A small smirk painting to face. And then, her body started to float, righting itself to face him fully as he glided in the air to meet him. Her cold and frail fingers came to caress the edge of his cheek with a gentleness that surprised him. 

“Why would you do that to me, Al? I thought we were friends.” The woman….or ghost woman started to shed alligator tears. Her voice was a high-pitched wail that irked him to no end. 

“What…what are you?”

That caused the woman to pause, eyes sharpening as she looked at him with a look so fierce he felt like his own knife had pierced his heart. 

“I am Y/N. I…I am the ghost that lives here.” 

Now that would have caused him to howl in laughter had he not seen the spectacle before him. Y/N….the famed ghost story Mimzy would tell to scare customers into scam ghost tours of the club after hours for an extra buck. But here she was…in the flesh?

“I thought you knew me Alastor. I thought you understood me. Understood the darkness–” Y/N brought her hand back to his cheek, trailing it slowly, even seductively down his chest to the buttons of his vest. He felt a strange pull to the being, confusingly enraptured by her now. The transparent but uniquely cold nature of her touch sent shivers down his spine, in a way he almost did not mind. 

Where had this feeling come from? Had…had his interest in the conversation been actual interest in the woman before him? He usually never felt this way about anyone. Alastor’s lips parted in an attempt to refute his thoughts but nothing came out. 

Y/N’s hand lingered on his chest, her fingers brushing against the fabric of his vest with calculated precision. Her touch was cold, yet there was an undeniable warmth to the way it ignited something in him—something he couldn't name. Alastor's usual composure began to slip, the confident, omnipotent mask he wore trembling in the presence of this woman.

"You always talk about control, Alastor," she purred, her voice an intoxicating melody that seemed to bypass his usual defenses. "But perhaps you’ve never been in a position where control slips through your fingers, like sand... or, more aptly, like time."

Her words struck him like a thunderclap, rattling his thoughts. Time? Had he been so blind, so consumed by the world of his own making, that he failed to see what was right in front of him? He wasn't sure how to answer, only aware that something was shifting, like a piece of the universe slowly aligning to something he couldn't yet understand.

The smile she gave him was a little too knowing, and he hated it. But more than that, he couldn't seem to hate her—an emotion he had learned to master long ago. For a fleeting moment, her eyes softened, not in pity, but in a way that unnerved him. She was dangerous, yes, but there was something else there—a depth, a complexity that tugged at him.

“You look so lost, Alastor,” she whispered, leaning in closer, her breath cold against his skin. “Let me guide you..”

Her hand slid down, brushing against his vest, the tips of her fingers brushing the edges of his buttons, slowly popping them open one by one.  Every movement of hers seemed deliberate, calculated. And yet, as if it was just for him. That he was the sole focus of such tender devotions. 

Alastor swallowed, his mind scrambling to form the words to push her away, to reassert his authority. But instead, something inside him relented. He wasn’t sure if it was the warmth of her presence, the pull of her energy, or the simple fact that for the first time in ages, something made him feel alive.

“You think you know me, don’t you?” he said, his voice low, almost... intrigued. “But I assure you, darling, you know nothing.”

“Then let me learn, Alastor,” she whispered, her lips dangerously close to his ear. “Let me see the darkness you keep hidden. Let me understand what makes you... human.”

The word struck him like a jolt of electricity, and for the first time in a long while, Alastor felt something unexplainable deep in his chest. Was it love? Was it obsession? Or was it the terrifying realization that maybe, just maybe, he could understand her too? 

—————————————————————————————————

Clothes lay discarded on the hardwood floor, Alastor’s suit jacket among the heap. His body pressed her bare one flush to the hardwood floor, her lips continuing their long and languid assault on his own.

 All that remained was Alastor in a white button-up and boxers, his clothed member rutting onto your bare cunt. Moaning into the kiss, her tentatively brought his hands up to find themselves settling at the nape of the Y/N’s neck. Experimentally giving the roots a small tug, a growl emitted from Alastor’s lips, enjoying the way she shivered before him. 

It was almost like her form wasn’t there at all, that her body was transparent. Though, at this moment, he did not question the physics of how he could touch a ghost. 

Laid bare before his hungry eyes and desires, his cock came to be inside Y/N with one thrust; cunt wet and ready for him like it was made for this purpose. Like she was gifted to him by the divine to hold him close in the darkness and relish in his desires. How the serial killer, had come to be with a being who could not be killed. The one thing he could never kill. The irony wasn’t lost on him, though not his main idea at the moment. 

Conceptually, rationally, by all means of logic, Alastor knew it would never work. Except, in this very moment, cock pounding into her wet and inviting cunt, he couldn’t help but pray to whatever power was listening that something would come to fruition. 

Her moans were sweet on his ears, like southern sweetwater molasses taffy. The kinda of stuff you just can’t get enough of. With every rut of his hips into hers, those delicious noises would fall from her parted pale lips. Now, those were the kind of noises he would search for in the middle of the night. Screams, still scream, but those he wrought by giving her the utmost pleasure his mortal form could apply. 

All for her. His little ghost. 

[anewgayeveryday]

Today's LGBT+ Character is;

Caleb Widogast and Essek Thelyss from Critical Role-Bisexual and Demisexual MLM Respectively

Art by @kayfullcolor

Requested by @cinnamonzor

Status: Alive and Dating

[centaur-dreaming]

Happy birthday fellow gays and queers of other flavours <3

[kipkiphoorayy]

[ghosted-jazz]

Happy International Asexuality Day to everyone under the ace umbrella! (2 year redraw)

She's showing them pictures of her fiancé

[themissingmango]

Thank you so much to @redfurrycat for suggesting the raptor + panromantic demisexual flag; I hope this is somewhat how you imagined it! ��💛🩵 💜🩶🖤

And a big thank you to @ltfirecracker as well for the feedback during the stream!! You helped a bunch!

If anyone wants to see the making of this one, you can watch the stream over on Twitch 🌈✈️ x x

[aroaessidhe]

Demisexual YA Contemporary Books

Main characters

The Summer of Bitter and Sweet - demisexual girl, m/f

Two Can Play That Game - demisexual-coded girl, m/f

Everyone Hates Kelsie Miller - demisexual girl, m/f, novella

Technically You Started It - demisexual girl, m/f

Bad At Love - demisexual boy, m/f

Read With Pride - demisexual girl, f/f (younger-YA)

Side characters

The Summer Love Strategy - love interest is demi-aroace (f/f)

Radio Silence - major side character is demisexual (m/m, the MC has no romantic subplot)

Belly Up - love interest is a demisexual boy (also grey-ace best friend)

#aspec books / aspec database / tumblr masterpost

[grimalkinmessor]

Hi welcome to my very tired rant

[loki-loving-lesbian]

In these parts the only thing we arouse is suspicion

[keigo-takamis-no-1-simp]

Ｈａｗｋｓ ｘ Ｒｅａｄｅｒ： Ｂｉｒｄ ｏｆ Ｐｒｅｙ

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Hawks x female! Reader

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: When you get bored at home waiting for your loving husband to come home... you think of a way to get him to come back sooner. It works- for a price.

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: Smut

𝙲𝚆/𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: Face-sitting, degradation, creampie, rough sex, penetration, female-parts, sex (ofc)

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1784 

Note: I have NEVER written smut before so I am so, so sorry if this is awful. Spicy stuff happens after the cut. This is- part of something I am challenging myself to do as a writer, I guess? I sure as hell ain't goin to heaven after this shit--

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

You’d been teasing him all day, just to see what he would do. Since you had the day off, you were bored. And what better way to deal with it than making your boyfriend horny as fuck when he’s in a meeting? 

It started off with pictures of your body- nothing too revealing, but enough to make him want more. He opened the messages, but didn’t do much more. You huffed, before an idea crossed your mind. 

Shifting onto your back, you spread your legs. Wearing little more than a bra and panties, your hand reaches up. With his feather around your neck, you knew he’d hear everything you did. Every little noise, whimper, or moan- which is exactly what you wanted. 

You begin to rub yourself over your panties, letting out a soft sigh as you feel the gentle pressure. After a few minutes, you slide your hand into your them, the feather in hand. It had bristled up a little, and the feeling of it against your clit was utterly delicious. 

Letting out a soft moan, your head tilts back. “Kei…~” You whine, shifting a little to continue to build that pleasure. It had been so long since you both had sex, and you missed him like hell. 

After a few moments, the sound of the front door jerks you from your thoughts. That meeting should’ve been another 10 minutes tops, and it took 15 to get home-

Your thoughts are cut short from a familiar winged male opening the bedroom door with more force than needed. His face is flushed, short hot breaths escaping his lips. His feathers are slightly ruffled, and his wings were spread just a little more than usual. 

He was beautiful normally, but this was hot. 

“Baby bird…~” His words are a low growl as he stalks towards you, before crawling onto the bed. “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doin’, hmm?” He rips the covers away, exposing you playing with yourself. 

Your stomach drops, but in the most pleasurable way possible. His eyes- like a predator eyeing it’s prey. 

A dark chuckle escapes his lips as his eyes darken just a little. “Mmmm… that’s what I thought. Playing with yourself like a little whore, hmm?~” He tuts a little, the feather coming from your hands to his own. 

“You’ve been such a naughty little bird, sending me pictures in meetings, playing with my feathers in a way you know I can’t ignore…” He pushes your legs apart, crawling in between them to hover right above you. 

His hot breath fans your chest as he takes in your flustered form. “Just couldn’t wait till I got home, huh..?” You don’t respond, and he trails his fingers through your hair. Suddenly, he wraps some of it around his fingers and pulls. 

A quiet moan escapes your lips at the feeling, and that simple noise sparks something in those darker amber eyes of his. “Such pretty noises… but they aren’t words, baby bird.” He clicks his tongue. 

You’d already been quite bratty… so why stop now? You pout up at him, as much as you can with his hands in your hair, anyway. You knew he enjoyed the fight. 

“Mm, but you came, didn’t you?~” You tease, before he tugs harder, ripping another moan from your throat. His face is inches from your neck as he growls. His hot breath fans your throat, teeth inching dangerously to your jugular.

“I guess I’ll have to remind you just who’s in charge, angel… and it isn’t you.” A feather flies from his plumes, wrapping around your wrists just enough to make sure you can’t move them. He wraps his hand around them, pinning them above your head. Your chest sticks out just a bit more from the angle. 

“So pretty.. It’s a shame, really..” He murmurs, disappointment clear in his tone. You shift, letting out a quiet whine. Before you can speak, he clicks his tongue again. “No, pretty bird… you had your chance. It seems like I need to remind you just who’s in charge, hmm..?” 

Heat rushes to your core at just how low his voice is. Oh, you fucked up. But this is exactly what you wanted. “Just sit still… you’re too horny to wait for me, hmm? Fine then…” His eyes flick up to yours for a moment. Even though you could feel just how hard he was, he stops for just a moment. 

“You can answer one question- what are our colors?” You falter, but you’re grateful. Despite how turned on he was, he always asked. 

“Red means stop…” His tongue trails down your stomach, and your words catch in your throat. “Yellow- Yellow means slow down, and… and green means it’s all good…” He hums in approval. 

“One last one. What’s the safe word?” 

“Treehouse.” “Good girl… fuck… I’m gonna absolutely wreck you sweetheart. But first… I have an idea.” He shifts, laying on his back as he gently guides you onto his face. 

“You’re gonna sit on my face until I’ve had enough. Sound good, little bird?~” Before you can respond, his arms wrap around your thighs. Pulling you down, your heat directly on his mouth. 

A quiet moan escapes your lips as his tongue traces your folds. “Fuck, Kei…” He slaps your ass cheek, and you whine. 

“Who am I?” He all but growls against you. 

“Sir..” You whimper, swallowing hard as his feathers dig into your wrists just a little more. 

He lets out a low chuckle, before giving you a harsh suck on your clit. “Good girl.” The moment he properly tastes you, he hums in approval.

A moan escapes your lips as he goes back to tongue-fucking you, making noises and holding you down like you were his last meal. Fuck- he was hot. And the fact he was holding you down on top of him? 

If there was any anxiety about suffocating him, he left no room to argue. If he wanted to suffocate himself on your pussy, he was gonna do it.

His lips shift, now wrapping around your clit. A mewl escapes your lips as your legs spread a little wider. He chuckles, the sound going straight to your core. 

When another whine leaves your lips, this time when he slows down. He hums, the vibrations making you jolt. After a few moments, he lets go of one of your thighs, sliding in two of his fingers. 

A deep moan escapes your lips this time. “F-fuck-” You can’t help but grind down onto his face, and he grips your waist tightly. When his fingers find that spongy spot inside of you, another moan escapes your lips. He chuckles, before abusing that spot. 

It doesn’t take long before that coil tightens almost painfully in your stomach. You’re panting, moaning, practically riding his fingers and his face– and with a nip to your clit, you fall apart on top of him. 

He’s quick, hardly letting you savor your orgasm before having you face down and ass up. “Such a good slut- who’s my good little whore, huh?” He slaps your ass, pulling a mewl from your throat. 

“I-I am-” He slaps your other ass cheek, a warning growl emanating from behind you. 

“I am?” The dark, dominant sound of his voice makes your thighs press together a little. But you wanted to see how far you could push him… his punishments were always good. So, she just nods. He sighs a bit, clicking his tongue. 

“Naughty bird… here I was, about to reward you for taking everything so well..” There’s faux sympathy in his tone. His hand gently rubs one of your ass cheeks, before slapping it hard. You yelp out softly, though there’s a soft moan mixed in. 

“Ah, that’s right… you like that sort of shit dontcha?” He chuckles, the sound holding a promise of danger. One that you like. “Fine… I’ll make it hurt then, princess.” 

Without warning, his hard cock slams into your core, giving you no chance to accommodate him. A mixture between a moan and a cry escapes your lips. He stills his hips completely against yours, his lips against your ear. 

“Color, love?” His voice is raspy, and you clench around him at the sound. 

“G-green, sir-” You whimper, biting your lip. His feather holds your hands in front of you on the bed, unable to hold your upper half up. He hums in approval again, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear. 

“Good girl…” He murmurs, before pulling out a bit. Without warning, he slams back into you, setting a brutal pace that has you seeing stars. Mixtures of “oh my god” and profanities are pulled from your lips as the head of his cock slams against your cervix. 

“Such a good slut- gonna fuck ya till ya can’t walk- that want you want? Tell me you want it-” He grunts, panting as he continues to slam into you. Your mouth opens to respond, but you can’t get a word out. The only thing spilling from your lips is moans, whimpers, and a little bit of drool. That feeling of warmth in your stomach returns quickly, the coil tightening again.

“Can’t even talk back anymore, huh?” He chuckles, grabbing your hair and pulling you up by it, then holding you by the throat. “Such a pretty little whore.. And all fucking mine.” Each word was punctuated with a deep thrust. 

And with that, the coil snaps. Your vision goes white as you clench down around him. Moaning out loudly, your eyes roll into your head as your tongue lolls from your mouth. 

After a few more thrusts, he buries himself into you, and you can literally feel the warmth of his release settling in your womb. A soft whine escapes your lips at the feeling. His feather lets go of your wrists, gently trailing your back before going back to his wings. 

He’s panting, before peppering kisses on your shoulders. “You took me so well, such a good girl…” He murmurs, letting himself slide out of your tight hole. His cum begins to dribble out, trailing down your thighs. You whine again, now for the loss of feeling. He laughs lightly, turning you around to kiss your forehead. 

“Alright, baby bird… let’s get you all cleaned up, hmm?” He coos, brushing your hair away from your face. You lean into his touch. 

Keigo was a lot of things. Dominant, rough, unrelenting- but kind, gentle, and caring. You hum in response, approval clear in your tone. Now… all that’s left of the night is for him to spoil you with his love. And you knew he wouldn’t hold back on that either. 

[chrissy-kaos]

Would you cuddle with a older black man...

Absolutely. Why not? If a person is nice to me and I like them. I don’t care what race they are. Now age is something because I don’t want to be with a 50yld. I’m sorry. So honestly the there’s only few requirements. Good hygiene, be nice, around my age and be moderately sane.

[cpyclopse]

Im Ace and I don't like cake or garlic bread and thats (along with dragons) like the big ace joke.

I'm a tad bit curious if others are the same. Also I thought figuring out how poles work would be neat.

(Flavor of Ace meaning anyone on the ace spectrum: ace, gray ace, or demisexual etc...)

-cpyclopse <333

[cancerravenclaw]

just a little bit of magic

by cancerravenclaw on ao3. 25k. explicit. ecstasy, chains, and love at first high.

“You’re just the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

If such a ludicrous thing could be true, Remus might have believed it from the look in Sirius’ eyes—pupil-pooled and foggy-edged.

“Mhm,” Remus hummed. “I bet everything is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.” He ran a thumb across the high arch of Sirius’ cheek. “What are you on?”

Sirius grinned, lazy and eager tied together in teeth.

“Just a little bit of magic.”

The night sky of mirror balls flashed and caught the silver hoop transecting his bottom lip and the glitter scattered around his bottomless eyes. Sirius was all the shades and facets of a magic, mystical, midnight daydream just a breath away.

With just one touch and one heart-shaped pill, the night dissolved into ecstasy-laced eternity.

[birthdayboy-ilu]

Hojo:IF YOURE NOT CAREFUL THEYLL THINK UR A FEMALE‼️💢 SEPHIROTH WILLIAMS THADDEUS HOJO ARE U LISTENING TO ME UR SWAG WOULD BE TOO LOUD THEYLL KILL U

Sephiroth: woagh,,i wonder whatd my girl naeme wouldbe……

[fandomaddict505]

Happy Pride Month!

My personal headcanons for the thieves are under the cut for anyone curious

From Left to Right

Sumire- Pansexual

Ruuji- Bisexual

Ann- Lesbian

Akechi- Gay and Transgender

Makoto- Bisexual

Haru- Pansexual

Yusuke- Demisexual, I also hc him as Homoromantic

Morgana- Straight Ally, he just got the general pride flag

Joker- Genderfluid, I also hc them as Bisexual

Futaba- Aroace