#for the sake of length lol

[caluupin]

Finished TGAAC around 2 1/2 weeks ago but only finished the doodles today. but still, here ya go!

[charcubed]

I NEEEED people—especially those with unfathomably large platforms???—to start doing just a tiny bit of internal evaluation before they log onto a blue website and say “I don’t want these queer characters to fuck in canon” or “I’d be fine if these characters never kissed again” or whatever.

This is a post about Good Omens and the prospect of Aziraphale and Crowley potentially having sex in season 3. It's a response to a tweet that I'm crossposting, but let it be known the above statement and this topic applies broadly across multiple fandoms too.

But anyway, in regards to Good Omens specifically:

I am seeing this take that essentially boils down to "Canon has now made it clear that these characters want to have sex with each other through subtext (i.e. Aziraphale and the ox), but I don’t want that to reach narrative completion because the idea of them having sex makes me uncomfortable or isn’t my personal preference” and it is, to put it mildly and delicately, A Very Bad Take.

This is rhetorical (and I do not expect or particularly want an answer), but: explain to me how and why queer characters who are unavoidably visibly queer (aka 2 "man-shaped beings") fucking on screen wouldn’t be a net positive, especially when you can indicate how canon has set it up.

Presumably, some people say things like this because ~they want to see them as visibly ace.~ Okay. But by some of these people’s own admission, there IS more evidence in canon now to indicate these characters crave sex with each other (vs arguing otherwise)... yet people would rather that be ignored/erased all for the sake of them feeling comfortable or feeling better about what canon shows or doesn’t show explicitly??

I’m sorry, but—speaking as an ace person, to be clear—your personal preferences for the story shouldn’t / don’t affect anything here. There’s too much in this.

Yeah, I understand on a personal level not having “representation.” I almost never see myself or my unique experiences and identity reflected in stories. And yet, I also understand that that doesn’t change any story or the world in which we live. Things like this are not said in a vacuum.

Any queer characters having sex on screen IS a net positive. It is rare and impactful, and openly calling for or hoping for otherwise when canon points to its potential is a detrimental alliance with purity culture, whether intentionally or accidentally. Because we live in a Goddamn society!

Who knows (other than Neil Gaiman) whether Aziraphale and Crowley ARE going to fuck on international TV. None of us do! But the subtext right now blatantly says they’re starving for it. And you don’t have to like the prospect of that, but honestly? We SHOULD get to see it play out. There’s no truly legitimate reason we shouldn’t ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Whether you "prefer" it or not.

And my ultimate hot take is… if someone balks at the idea of that or doesn’t understand the importance of it, despite even seeing the subtext… then they should perhaps unpack that? Just a thought.

Truly the way fandoms are managing to hit either “subtext doesn’t count :/ ” or “let’s keep it to subtext so it’s ‘open to interpretation’ :) ” nowadays depending on what corner one visits is MADDENING. Whiplash-inducing. Surreal. And so much nonsense you can’t pick where to start.

So! I do genuinely hope I'm not kicking off discourse but I felt this Needed To Be Said (and on more than one site). Because posts like “even if they never kiss again, we’ve won <3 “ make me want to be like…

These characters are YEARNING. Do not doom them and us to it. For once, we can reach for the stars and maybe–against all odds–pull them down. Embrace it!

---

[Update: after more discourse has occurred, I have somewhat elaborated on this further, from the POV of the significance of the queer themes in Good Omens and more specifically how they center illicit pleasure/desire]

[awaylaughing]

Venetia Blue, my MC from @barbwritesstuff very wonderful werewolf action-adventure-romance, Blood Moon. It has amazing characters who are dynamic, flawed and deeply lovable with a variety of personalities and beliefs; it has paranormal politics of several flavours; it has magic and amazing side characters that are impossible not to love; and it has a terrific end-game showdown that is very satisfying. I've been kicking my feet and giggling, gasping in outrage, and generally enjoying the variation within the story for a few days now, and Venetia's been the winner of "most canonical run". A slightly babbly profile under the cut

Name: Venetia Jaqueline Blue

Pronouns: She/Her

Height: 155.5cm/5'1"

Age: 26

Appearance: a short, curvy woman with fair, freckled skin and green eyes. Her hair is a natural light blonde, slightly wavy, falling to about her collar bones. She usually wears in a single braid or if she takes the time, vintage waves.

Venetia prefers fairly practical dress, with a lot of purple, brown, and denim. She can be easy to spot on cooler days though, thanks to a strange and distinctly quirky patchwork jacket she likes to wear (she made it herself).

As a wolf, Venetia somewhat curiously most resembles a Husdon Bay Wolf, with a smaller build and light yellow-and-white colouring. The first time she shifted in front of the pack Marco declared her "barely toasted marshmallow" coloured.

Biography

Born on Oct. 31st, 1993 to a small but relatively wealthy clan Venetia's childhood was very pleasant. Owning a private fig farm, the pack managed to keep well funded without interacting much with the outside world, bar farmer's market's and deliver drivers come the advent of internet selling.

Venetia herself grew up relatively alone, a quirk of the pack's generations meaning she was born a decade behind the older children and a decade before the youngest. She spent much of her time with the pack elders, who were happy to encourage a voracious learner. They encouraged her so much in fact Venetia was the first in the pack to attend post-secondary school. She left school after only two years however, as the pack's official educator passed somewhat unexpectedly leaving behind several young students.

Venetia served as the pack educator herself for three years, a job that was a good fit as she's always liked children. It all came crashing down however one day when she returned from an early-morning hunt-slash-run. When she got back, armed with a couple of pheasants, she found only the smell of death and rotting flowers, an unusual heavy frost, and a damning silence.

Venetia spent the next three years as a stray, haunted by a formless loss. She preoccupied herself initially with dead-end investigations, which eventually gave way to her disappearing into a national park. She came back to herself after three months in her wolf form, when she found herself following not a deer or rabbit, but an unwitting camping family. Horrified, that was the moment that lead to her core conviction:

She's a person, not a monster and she will not the wolf of the moon win.

Not that Venetia is a self-hating werewolf, no she quite likes her wolf, so long as it's her and not the moon driving her. It's a balance she didn't really find until Alek and the pack accepted her in however, for the preceding two and a half years in fact Venetia resisted shifting except for moons for the most part.

During those years, she coped with her loneliness the only way she knew how: hobbies. Sewing, car repair, fixing radios, carving, learning French, etc. Venetia jumped from item to item, stubbornly conquering skills and projects before moving on to the newest thing. This does make her a very handy packmate: it's likely that even if Venetia doesn't have an exact skill needed for an odd job, she something transferable (and she's great at finding resources to help her learn).

In the city, Venetia saw it as a sort of job to really help out as her time as a stray often meant coming into bigger cities to avoid wandering into another pack's territory. Her decision to try for Alpha--and the reason she got it, was similar. Smart and patient, Venetia's only priority was keeping the pack together and thriving, even when she only had a handful of moons with the pack under her belt.

Fun Facts

her native language is Welsh, she didn't learn English until she was around 12 years old

her mother named for a novel she once read, despite hating the novel itself

grew up on the coast so has a taste for fish and shellfish

worked at over 32 different places during her stray-days, but the bulk of these (more than half) were "work for board" style planting/harvesting operations

her longest stray-days job was as a yoga instructor at a Wiccan run spa-retreat, they were very sympathetic to her need to take full moons off

is allergic to bug bites, to her IMMENSE frustration

[knighteclipsed]

a wild abandon.

a drabble: for valter’s dread fighter mastery. word count: 667 words

There is a fierceness to the axe—a strength, if one may, that is required of one to wield it. It was slow, heavy, and lacking in range—a commoner’s tool for menial tasks, repurposed for the battlefield’s needs. It was not made for killing at first, but if it could be mastered, it was undoubtedly strong.

That was Duessel’s weapon.

Likewise, there is a grace to the sword—a civility, as it could be ascribed, that its bearer would possess in choosing that for their blade. Light-weight, discreet, but sharp—a weapon as commonly used for warfare as it was for self-defense. It was a noble weapon, all things made plain, but undoubtedly polite. People were killing each other long before the first was crafted.

That was Duessel’s weapon also. Further: it was Glen’s.

There is a rawness to the lance—a wild abandon, that which you possess, that any master of the weapon must learn. From the very beginning, its purpose was to slaughter (on the offensive in intent), a translation from base hunting directly into war. Any coward could wield it, kept safe by the distance inherent—but one who knew the shaft; the cord; the steel could easily utilize it as something far more dangerous.

That was Duessel’s weapon as well. And Glen’s. And yours.

And perhaps, there is a utility to knowing other blades—to be able to switch to the most advantageous as the need struck—but there is an even greater strength to be found from sticking to just the one choice. Options in the form of tools could be taken away from you—but in limiting that, you learned to find advantages; to make them, if necessary, and that knowledge could not be taken. Those wits were all you needed.

So magic was unnecessary—its only advantage was in its ability to break past one’s physical defenses (and perhaps strike from afar), but you made up for that with speed, strength; you flew so quickly a mage couldn’t dream to escape. Again, magic was but a tool, and tools could be taken away.

Arrogance overtook you then, you recall—that observation alone could translate into practical knowledge; at the thought of wielding Thunder (her preference, of all things), you had expected an easy battle. Two failed castings were all it took to humble you.

Even if, by technicality, you had won—a success rate of one-third could be nothing more than unsatisfactory. (And so, you determined, you would master it—just as you have mastered the lance.)

So you clawed your way—through tomes—illusory battlefields—unfathomable circumstance—foreign magic—burning classrooms—to prove it to yourself. Because you are capable. Because you are strong.

Metal clangs—steel against steel—before you step back (and they step away), flipping your grip: to throw, forcing your target right where you want them; and there is where you catch him—when you suddenly dart forth, the speed and force it all knocking him to the ground; a hand at his throat; and in your free hand: the dark murmurings of Hades and the other side, death reflected in its glimmering stray dust like sunlight off a cursed blade.

“ Have I passed now? ”

Magic was a tool, after all—but in Fódlan, it was a tool you ingrained into yourself. Certainly, you could use a tome and learn its contents if you knew how to read it, but over the leather-back burdens of Magvel, here, magic was a tool you could not lose.

The proctor sighs (however he may mask it as exhaustion), before nodding: “Yes. You have.”

And it is only then that you free him—standing up to full height to first recover your lance (your extension of yourself, wild and raw and free). Whatsoever happened, it would remain your preference, no doubt—to disentangle the weapon from your core was neither wanted nor likely possible—but a supplement in magic did not hurt you. It weighed nothing; it was graceful; it was fierce.

And you were better than those two (the Sunstone and the Obsidian). This was simply another method by which to prove that.

[paperhats-and-evil-schemes]

Me: Oh, so how long's the White Hat fic gonna be?

You: Probably around 80k-100k

Me: Oh oka- Wait... *looks at your AO3*

*sees that all your current works add up to about 84k*

Me: ... So what you're saying is... the WH fic is going to be as long, if not longer, than all of the other Villainous fics you've ever done combined???

Ok well when you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous 😂

But yes.

[alinedreams]

Unpopular opinion (which is actually a huge self-projection based on past experiences, platonic and romantic alike): Anthy does not deserve Utena, or at least not until she gets proper therapy and stops lashing her abuse out on other people, continuing the cycle.

Utena tried to help her and she sent the girl to the shark's jaws (Akio) and literally stabbed her.

Anthy did not appreciate that Utena was trying to save her, perhaps because she didn't think she was worthy of being saved, but Utena didn't deserve to be hurt and thrown to the lions because of it

People tend to woobify Anthy and treat her and Utena like a wholesome couple, but the truth here is that those two, as a couple, are going to have a very toxic relationship where Anthy will keep hurting Utena in several ways, simply because you aren't magically healed from trauma after someone nice appears, not even if you get away from your main abuser.

So, if we want Anthy to be together with Utena, she has to deserve being together with Utena. She has to get proper therapy and address her passive-aggressivs behavior before being with her fated partner, because she's going to keep being very dangerous to our dear pink-haired girl-himbo if she doesn't.

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: GETO

A/N: Suguru is a patient, kind, wonderful, completely out-of-his-mind-insane man. I just had to capture it on paper. (The Yuuta installment is up next, this one was just crawling out of me lol)

C/W: Voyeurism (the real Shibuya incident 🤭) Mature, 18+

Suguru should stop.

He really should fucking stop.

You two are friends. Innocent. Platonic. The very best of friends.

And yet, here he is. Watching a live feed of you walking through your apartment door.

Keys to the left.

Heels kicked off to the right. You’ll come back to those later.

He drapes the bath towel around his neck. Catching the last few almond water droplets from his thick, near waist length hair. He’ll be at your place later; he wouldn’t forgive himself if he was the reason you caught a cold.

And capital punishment for anyone who rouses a single strand of hair on your head.

6:38 PM. A little late today. But it’s a Wednesday and there’s a farmers market in the town square. You always stop for chocolate croissants too late on Wednesdays. The vendor leaves before you’re out of work.

There are four of them on low heat in his oven right now.

Because Suguru now knows the vendor on a first name basis. He’s paid him well over asking price to have 4 chocolate croissants (made 2 batches later than what he sells during the day) be delivered to his place every Wednesday.

Because you’re his friend.

His best friend. And he can’t stand the thought of you going a second without anything you want in this lifetime.

Oh fucking hell.

Your (his) favorite blazer is off. As is the demure mint silk button up that it was covering. Both now wistfully draped over the corner of the kitchen island. He finds the way you throw your things around haphazardly so adorable.

But that doesn’t matter right now.

Like clockwork, Suguru’s left hand drags down his sweatpants, just enough to let his overgrown, painfully hard cock free. It bounces well past his belly button, like a fresh wire spring.

And with cinematic timing, you lean over your kitchen island. In nothing but your lacy bra and snug little pencil shirt. Mindlessly catching up on your social media.

The way your plush, pouty rose lips hang slightly open. And your fucking perfect tits spill over the top of your slightly undersized bra. The lazy S curve from your petite shoulders…tapered down to your waist…back out to the swell of your hips.

“Fuck,” a king cobra hiss escapes his lips.

You’re dizzying. Utterly fucking intoxicating.

Suguru’s chest rises and falls. The pace of his hand around his cock crescendos. Almost angrily.

How could you do this to him?

You’re his best friend for fucks sake.

Precum slicks from his thick, blunt tip. Squelching around his knuckles.

Your back arches into a mini crescent moon. And Suguru might as well have swallowed a blow torch.

“Nnnhhgh fuck, g-god…so…” Sharp drags of air mix with his poorly choked down moans.

His hand grips harder. Hips now rutting up off his desk chair. Hungry. Needy. Imprecise pumps into the slick ring of his fingers. Chasing another high he so desperately wishes you could personally give.

Because the way he feels right now?

The sheer malevolence in his mind. The depravity. You trust him completely and he can’t trust himself with you at all.

Beautiful, enchanting girl.

You reduce him to a perverted, bird brained slave to his desires.

You make him want to violate you. To fuck a cock-shaped hole through the back of your skirt to your cervix.

He wants to pick you up and bounce you along all 10 inches of his length and watch himself bludgeon through to your stomach.

He wants to pin you down and use your pretty little throat as his personal cocksleeve. And watch you garble and cry and drool around his invading length while you struggle for air. And listen to the melodic sounds of you gasping and muffled around his dick when he makes you apologize.

Apologize for being so goddamn irresistible. For bringing this depraved shell of a human being out of him.

Electricity runs the length of his manhood. His breaths are jagged, tendrils of wavey hair matted to his forehead.

The sound of your ringtone slices through the static in his brain. Tethering him back out of his criminal spiral.

“H-hey, pretty.” Suguru forces his baritone to level out. Hand still stroking his length.

Your wispy, girly giggle almost finishes him instantly.

“You’ve gotta stop with the pet names, Suguru! The trail of women in your wake hate me enough as it is.”

“Ha-I c-couldn’t care less.” Talking is harder than breathing for him.

You lean up from the counter and start twirling your hair in a way that makes him want to carve out another galaxy for you. Just for you. Anything for you.

“Movie night? I’ve been wanting to—“

“Yes.” Suguru is almost embarrassed at how quickly he cut you off. Like a fucking dog.

You laugh again and stroll to your refrigerator. He knows you’re lamenting the missed croissants. And he knows you know there’s a 99.99% chance he’s already gotten them for you. Because he is silly putty for you. He crumbles to stardust in your hands.

Because he’s your best friend.

“I got them.” Suguru rasps out. Hands moving so fast up his shaft, precum surging out his tip. He’s so close. So fucking—

“God I love you.”

And he snaps. Hot, thick ropes of his cum splay everywhere. Suguru draws metallic from his bottom lip, clenching down so hard not to give himself away.

You said it so innocently. So platonically. And it shifted his entire world on its axis.

His best fucking friend.

“Love you too, I’ll be there at 8.”

PART. II

[marthawrites]

A Shared Bed

Harwin Strong x Betrothed fem reader x Rhaenyra Targaryen

Word count: 4.2k+

About: Harwin gets into an arranged marriage to stop the rumors about him and Rhaenyra. He really likes his betrothed but he loves Rhaenyra. He tells his betrothed, "I can't choose between you and her." She says, "I don't want you to choose. I want in, the bed is large enough."

Includes: SMUT. Featuring sexual tension, reader's first experience with a woman, milf Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra likes to play a little rough, m/f/f threesome, vaginal fingering, (f) oral sex, handjob, face sitting, multiple orgasms, unprotected vaginal sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This is based on a request from @the-wonderland-madnesss ♥ Thank you for being my sous chef in cooking this up too! Rhaenyra is married to Laenor in this fic. She's already had Jacaerys. For plot sake (lol what plot? this is mostly porn) reader is from House Oakheart and is non-descript. Reader and Nyra are friends in this fic. I hope you enjoy it! ♥

Cross posted on ao3 too! First time ever posting there. Will I keep it up? No idea!

The day’s golden hour flooded your abode through open windows and silken curtains. The warm beams highlighted your late-summer skin and you relished its sensation. King’s Landing, with its climate and sea breeze, was pleasantly cooler than your home in the Reach. 

Sitting in front of a well-polished looking glass, you carefully dabbed another layer of color on your lips. Pretty. Feminine. The hue unquestionably brought out the best of your complexion. 

You’d already finished everything on your to-do list. Now the only thing left to do was wait for a visit from your betrothed. His visits were a favorite pastime of yours–even before the official betrothal. As it turned out… he was quite good at dice. Always in the back of your mind you wondered if he had loaded dice. A soldier of the City Watch could very well get their hands on some, right? Or learn a trick or two from gamblers… Off duty Harwin learning tricks of the trade from cut purses and pickpockets! That idea brought an amused smirk to your lips. 

You highlighted your features with a little more cosmetics.

A knock on the front door sounded. Before getting up you readjusted your bosom, making sure your gold and green dress accented your breasts to perfection. “Be right there!” you called. Once satisfied, you moved to answer the door. Opening it, you smiled in preparation for Harwin. “My, you’re early tonight, aren’t y–,” but the rest of your words were cut off by who was indeed at your door. 

The Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen stood an arms length away, grinning the tiniest feline smile. 

A commoner's cloak of homespun concealed her true identity from passersbys–sly. But, more surprising than the Princess at your door, was the fact she came alone. Not a single guard stood behind her or appeared to follow. Her expression twinkled as she watched you take everything in. “Lady Oakheart,” she said with quiet warmth. “Mind if I come in?”

Pleasantly surprised, you swung the door wide for her to enter. What in the name of the Seven would cause this visit? “Not at all,” you answered to your friend whom you hadn’t seen in some time. “I was not expecting this, princess. If I’d known I would have prepared better!”

“Needn’t worry,” she said with a dismissive wave. Removing her hood, she used the same looking glass to check the long braid of her silver hair. Once any stray strands were tucked away to her liking, she hung her cloak on the back of a chair. “I’m very glad you’re home at this hour. I wasn’t sure if you would be.” 

Confusion frowned your brows. Sitting upon one of your lounge settees, you turned your full attention to Rhaenyra. She looked lovely in a black and red dress. Its neat trim and accents highlighted the quality of its tailor. “I’m normally home by this hour.” You poured her a cup of water from the side table. “Excuse my brashness, princess, but what brings you here? Is something the matter?”

Rhaenyra drank as she sat beside you. Her knee brushed against yours and you tried to ignore the butterflies in your belly from her accidental touch. “There is something I wish to discuss with you, yes,” she said, a glint of something… mischievous? Behind those Targaryen eyes.

The last time you and Rhaenyra had a visit like this was at her wedding to Laenor Velaryon. You and your brother (despite his still slightly wounded feelings about his courting attempt being turned down) were invited, and you wouldn’t miss it. She truly was The Realm’s Delight! That was over a year ago, now. Since then, she and Laenor have welcomed their first child into the world–a healthy boy with a head full of black hair, Jacaerys Velaryon.

You searched her eyes for a moment before offering a slight tilt of your head. “And what might I help you with?”

“Ser Harwin has told me of the betrothal,” she answered.

You didn’t have a reason to blush. Yet, warmth bloomed beneath your cheeks. “Has he? I know you two have a… close relationship. The proposal was actually suggested by his father, Lynoel, in an attempt to–”

The Princess arched a perfectly manicured brow. “–stop the rumors of him and I?”

You nodded a little sheepishly. There were rumors before Jacaerys’ birth, yes, but afterward? Hearsay of his true father spread throughout the court like wildfire.

That tiny feline grin reappeared upon her mouth. In her eyes. She grabbed your hand. Her smooth touch caressed over yours. “He also told me something else. It nearly had my jaw on the floor.” She leaned into you slowly, deliberately, angling her head so she spoke low by your ear. “That you wish for all three of us to share a bed.”

If your face wasn’t hot before–and it was–it blazed now. You wondered if she could see your pulse thrumming at the side of your neck.  “It seems there’s little my betrothed doesn’t speak to you about,” you said as if proclaiming a secret.

Rhaenyra made a small noise of acknowledgement. Her gaze landed on your fluffed breasts and the necklace that sat upon them. Gently, she trailed the very tips of her fingers down the golden accessory. Its pendant was a polished ruby in a classic setting. She circled it; your goosebumps not escaping her attention. Her gaze found yours again, regarding you with a heavy curiousness.

“A gift,” you whispered, raspy–under her spell. “From Harwin.”

That same noise from before vibrated between her lovely lips. “I know,” she purred. “I helped him pick it out. We have similar taste in jewelry, you and I. And men, it would seem.”

Your skin hummed. Tightened. Despite your’s and Harwin’s conversation about Rhaenyra, you never thought it would happen like this. “Princess…”

“Shh,” she cooed, leaning in to you with a slight tilt of head. “Your bed is indeed big. Large enough for the three of us, easily.” 

Your lips were so close–close enough to share breath. Recognizing her silent question of consent, you gave it to her. Now it was you who leaned forward to close the remaining space between your mouths. A kiss. Light, at first. Curious. Despite your attraction to women–as well as men–you’d never explored your desires with another woman. Kissing the princess felt divine. Liquid fire spread through your body. And, when you slanted your mouth against hers, deepening the affection, she delicately cradled your jaw.

Bells chimed in your head. Forbidded. Dangerous. Exciting.

Tentatively, you moved your hands to rest upon her thighs. You gripped the fine material of her dress and squeezed; pulling her to you, and you to her. 

Rhaenyra smiled. Her tongue licked slowly into your mouth. 

Fire roared through your bloodstream–you yielded without a second thought.

And that is how Harwin found both of you. So enthralled by one another, neither of you heard his gentle knock nor the rustle of movement as he came inside. He uttered your name in delighted shock. Then, “princess?”

Meeting your betrothed’s attention, you blushed from the tips of your ears down to your collar. “Harwin,” you whispered. Panting softly you added, “I meant what I said before. You don’t have to choose. The bed is large enough.”

Ser Harwin Strong looked like he’d already cleaned up. He wore a simple neat garb–clean–and his dark curls were tossed as if freshly washed. Sometimes after serving his guard shift duties he stunk to the high Seven. And you, being his lovely, tidy lady, didn’t appreciate it much. He knew it, of course, and was happy to clean before sharing evenings with you. He gave you a knowing nod; dark eyes glittering with an array of emotions. “I never doubted your word, sweetheart.”

Rhaenyra gently turned your attention back to her. “Do you regularly entertain any other visitors after hours?”

No wonder Harwin was enchanted by her. Those eyes shone with a deep fire from within, the hue simply otherworldly, and for a moment you wondered if the princess practiced witchcraft with how mesmerized you were. Sorcery, wizardry, love spells… no, nothing like that. She was a Targaryen–blooded from both sides–and it was at that exact moment you felt the old saying: Targaryen’s are closer to Gods than men. You shook your head. Your body buzzed. “No. No one else will be coming over tonight.”

“Good,” she cooed. “You are mine and Harwin’s tonight, Lady Oakheart. Let us test these new boundaries and passions properly before the official wedding, hm?”

With a thundering heart you matched her smirk. “Gladly.” You swore you could hear Harwin’s blood rush through his body, too, lightning bolting through him at a dangerous speed. Like a magnet, he was drawn to you. To the princess.

Rhaenyra’s mouth was on yours again. And, then, from behind, Harwin’s hands settled on your shoulders, the tickle of his beard on your neck making you quiver.  Anticipation vibrated through your bones. 

Oh, you were dead. They were going to murder you. It’d be a miracle if you made it through the night!

Harwin’s brown eyes glittered like dragonglass when he looked down the front of your body–your welcoming bust, the ruby necklace, the fine cut of your bodice. Then he peered at Rhaenyra from over your shoulder with nothing but the utmost admiration and love. “You’re both wearing far too many clothes,” he said against the delicate curve of your neck.

“As are you, Ser Harwin,” the princess said without missing a beat.

Your brain was currently unable to form any coherent thoughts.

Vaguely you heard a rustle of cloth behind you, followed by the cotton ‘thmp’ of your betrothed’s shirt tossed to the floor. Skilled fingers then unlaced the back of your dress. 

Harwin. Ever the gentleman. 

Once finished, he stepped with deliberativeness to Rhaenyra. He towered over her as he stood behind her and carefully opened the back of her dress. The difference in their height… their size… lust clouded your brain with each passing moment. 

The princess stood, then, that sly little grin dimpled one corner of her mouth. Despite this being your house she tilted her head in your bed’s direction. “Come,” she said. 

You took her outstretched hand and stood. Looking between her and Harwin, he gave you a similar expression followed by a proud nod. Fuck. Your insides were about to explode from nerves. 

“If at any time it becomes too much, sweetheart, all you have to do is say something and we will stop,” Harwin reassured you. 

When he spoke in that tone his voice was velvet over gravel. He could get you to do almost anything with that voice. All of your clothes were too much. Too heavy. Too restrictive on your humming skin. You wanted nothing more than to feel Harwin’s warm, hard body against yours. The scratch of his chest hair against your back, your beasts… the rasp of his powerful legs against the smooth lines of your own–between them. Even more sinful than those thoughts, however, was the yearning to feel Rhaenyra’s smooth body against yours.

The delightful darkening of both their expressions told you they knew what you were thinking. How easily they read you. How dazzled they were by your transfixion. 

“Understand?” Harwin pressed.

“Mm-hmm. I understand.”

Rhaenyra walked backwards with you until you were both at the foot of your bed. It was slightly awkward, in a humorous way, and it had both of you giggling as you tried to not step on her feet. She stepped out of her shoes before shrugging out of her dress. It pooled on the floor like a shadow. Her shift was a clean white cotton which left little to the imagination.

Harwin stood at your side and used two fingers to tilt your head to him. He kissed you. Deeply, thoroughly, slowly. He was such a good kisser. Your knees weakened where you stood, using him for support throughout the affection. You moaned softly into his mouth before he pulled away.

He moved to Rhaenyra, then, and kissed her. Soft. Tender. She had a similar reaction to you. His lips along her jaw, down her neck, and over the exposed top of her shoulder. Whereas he kissed you thoroughly, he kissed her reverently.

Part of you felt as if you should look away. But, you couldn’t. Seeing your betrothed with another woman like this had your thighs clenching. You knew you should be jealous. Should want to claw the eyes out of another woman who kissed your promised like that. Yet, it was Rhaenyra. You only wanted to be in between them. Reveling with them.

They were the most gorgeous pair you’d ever seen.

The princess, with the knight’s assistance, pulled her shift up and over her head. Finely made smallclothes were the only thing that shielded her womanhood from your eyes; as near perfect a human could be. She was all pale skin, soft lines, and pink pebbled flesh. In the waning golden hour her milk veins stood out beneath her alabaster skin; those breasts surely heavier now than they were before her son’s birth. With those eyes, and that body, she could have anything she fucking wanted. And, likely, she did.

“Your turn,” she purred to you. “Help her like you did me, yes? She’s looking a little… spellbound.” A quiet giggle escaped her as she turned and crawled up your bed, sitting at the head of it as she watched and waited.

Spellbound. The perfect word.

Harwin helped you indeed, kissing and caressing over your body as he did. Sharing sly smiles and twinkling looks, consent passed between you two again and again. ‘Yes, I’m okay with this,’ your eyes said. ‘Yes, I want this too,’ they also said. The callouses of his big warm hands scratched over your skin and shift alike; sensation arching your back into his body. Everywhere he touched, you burned. In the wake of his attention, the delicate space between your thighs matched your pulse. 

He still wore his trousers and made no move to yet take them off; arousal hot and strained beneath.  When your hand teased over his bulge he swatted it away. “Not yet,” he crooned. “Go sit between Rhaenyra’s legs.”

Now it was you who obeyed. Crawling up your mattress in much the same fashion as she, you kissed her again. 

Standing at the foot of the bed Harwin admired every fucking second of what was unfolding. His princess, his swoon to be wife… the curve of your ass and dip of your spine and shape of your legs had him impossibly hard. Your position had the wet spot of your smallclothes on perfect display and he groaned. 

“Be a good girl and rest against me,” Rhaenyra whispered.

You did. It was easy–wonderfully easy–to sit between her soft, spread thighs, with your back against her breasts. You bit your lip at the sensation of her covered cunt against the small of your back. How different it was than cuddling with Harwin. 

“Look at you listening so well,” she cooed again. “Good girls get rewards. Isn’t that right, Ser Harwin?” The tension of their eye contact had you squirming and you barely had a chance to regain yourself from the teasing praise before you gasped. Rhaenyra’s hands bushed the underswell of your breasts. Lightning shot down your spine. She played with them, teased them, circling and sliding her fingertips over your nipples. “So pretty,” she said as she squeezed one of your sensitive tits, pinching the peaked nipple of the other.

You couldn't help it. You moaned and arched your chest deeper into her touch. She kissed over your neck, your shoulder, continuing her blissful exploration of your breasts.

Harwin lowered onto the bed and laid between your legs, grinning up at you and Rhaenyra. As she continued to tease you, he kissed the insides of your thighs. One, then the other. Lips, and tongue, and teeth, he teased you as much as she was. The tickle of his beard was beautifully maddening and it didn’t take much for your thighs to be quivering beneath his mouth. “Always so responsive,” he said.

Never had you been with two people like this before. If they kept it up any longer you’d be a whining panting mess! “No more teasing, please,” you begged. 

The lovers shared a look you weren’t quite aware of. With an arched brow, Harwin asked, “let’s stop torturing the poor girl, yeah?”

Rhaenyra nodded impishly. 

Before your hazy brain realized, your betrothed was pulling your smallclothes down your legs. He spread your thighs, giving himself more room between them, and a low satisfied sound rumbled in his chest. “Look how wet she is for us, princess.” 

You throbbed. His words echoed in your head. You were fucking soaked. 

Using one hand, Harwin spread your cunt for his greedy gaze. “My, my, sweetheart. Aren’t you a needy little thing tonight?” 

“Just how I like my playthings,” Rhaenyra quipped. “Since I can’t see, will you let me feel?” She asked against the shell of your ear.

You nodded. “Yes. Please. Both of you.”

Again, the secret lovers shared a heated stare.

The princess’ hand slid down the front of your body until the tips of her fingers brushed against your slick cunny. “Oh,” she purred. “I don’t know who’s wetter, Lady Oakheart. You or I.” 

Her center was still hot against your back. You desperately wanted to explore her as she explored you. But, the position didn’t quite allow for it. You whimpered behind a bit lip.

Harwin watched as Rhaenyra began to circle your swollen clit. Women knew what women liked, and she knew just how to touch you. Circles, and slides, and flicks, she lavished your little bud with the sweetest attention until the sweetest sounds began to pour from your mouth. For a moment she thought you might come from that alone. So, she slowed her ministrations and nodded to Harwin.

As the princess continued to play with you–slowly–he eased one finger into your aching cunt. Immediately your toes curled with a gasp. “Go-ods!” You squeaked, legs flexing and hips rolling with the double stimulation. Each downward movement of your hips sent his finger deeper into you. Each upward motion sent Rhaenyra’s fingers sliding over your clit. It was the loveliest feeling you’d ever experienced. You ground against both of them. Used both of their hands for your own bliss. “Please don’t stop!” You half stammered, drunk on the pleasure they gave you. 

They each held one of your thighs open, not letting you close them. You were at their mercy. You loved it.

A second finger joined Harwin’s first, and now he pumped them in and out of you. With a flex of his wrist he crooked his fingers inside you, hitting that small, deliciously spongy spot that always had you gasping his name. Your incoherent babbles along with Rhaenyra’s soft praises had his cock aching. His mouth watered as he watched your body take his fingers again and again, as your pearl glistened beneath the princess’ touch. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He leaned forward to lick your pretty clit.

Seeing what Harwin was doing, Rhaenyra clicked her tongue and pushed his face away. “Greedy knight,” she scolded. 

Harwin glared up at her.

She smiled sweetly. 

You were too lost in your pleasure to notice what exactly happened.

“Let’s make her come and then you can put that mouth to use,” she goaded him–loving his brief moment of fury as she took away something he wanted; his own soon-to-be wife.

Working in tandem, the princess and the knight pushed you over the peak of pleasure; awed, shuddering, weightless. Your sounds a song to their ears.

They let you come down easily, kissing and caressing you throughout. If this is what it’d be like to share a bed with the princess you planned to never leave her in the dark. Ever.

After a few moments you rolled onto your back and stared up at your ceiling, smiling like a loon. “That was… wow,” you giggled.

Harwin was the first to move. Sliding off the end of the bed he stood and moved to the side of it nearest Rhaenyra. With you no longer sitting against her, he grabbed her by the legs and pulled her to the edge of it. Swift. Deliberate. Right where he wanted her. A small squeak sounded from her. “Get these out of my way,” he growled as he yanked her smallclothes down her legs with little regard to their preservation.

Rhaenyra looked down the front of her body just in time to see him kneel before her–big hands curling around her thighs, spreading them wide open. His mouth was pure magic on her eager cunt. Her head rolled to the side as she leaned back, bracing herself up with her elbows. Soon, moans and whimpers began to spill from her.

Coming out of your reprieve, you watched the secret lovers; desire stirring in your core once again. Rhaenyra, ethereal. Harwin, worshiping. They complimented each other in ways that had you weak. One of his hands rose to the little swell of fat on her belly and squeezed it adoringly. Gasping, she ground against him, seeking her high.

It was your turn to roll off the bed. Walking to the other side, you too knelt in front of Rhaenyra. Harwin smirked at you. “I wondered when you might join me,” he said. 

Despite your nervousness you were feeling bold, too. “Show me how you do it.”

He groaned somewhere low in his throat. Then, his mouth was on yours. He kissed you deeply. Rhaenyra’s taste lingered on your tongue and it wasn’t unpleasant. Quite the opposite, if you were being honest with yourself.

Above, an entirely different type of pleased sound came from Rhaenyra. Seeing you two kiss between her spread legs had her going half crazy. “Have you noticed how much he likes his hair pulled yet?” She asked you innocently. Before allowing you the chance to answer, her fingers curled into his hair and she pulled him back to her center. Right where she wanted him. Harwin moaned into her cunny, licking and slurping against her obscenely. “He likes to be pulled around a little bit,” she said. Lewd. Panting.

Fuck.

Unable to resist any longer, you fumbled with the front of your betrothed’s trousers until his belt and laces were open. You tugged his pants down the firm curve of his ass, the thick trunks of his thighs, until they bunched down around his knees where he knelt. As he feasted on the princess’ cunt,  you stroked his cock. He was so hot, and thick, and hard, you wondered if it physically pained him. 

He moaned harshly. “I don’t wanna come yet,” he rasped, the muscles of his pelvis already twitching with restraint.

“No, no, not yet,” Rhaenyra agreed, breathless. “His seed needs a womb. Both of you up here, now. I have an even better idea.”

You both obeyed. Rhaenyra gestured for Harwin to lay flat on his back in the middle of the bed. Smirking like a cat she perched herself over his face. She wasted no time in sitting back against his mouth, grinding against him purely for her own pleasure. Nose, lips, bearded chin… she dragged her slick cunt back and forth. Again and again. Her fingers squeezed his firm pectorals as she used him for her gain. “Take his cock,” she told you wickedly. 

Was this truly real? You were still half dumbstruck that this was happening in the first place! Harwin’s arms looped above her thighs, holding her where he wanted her, and the sounds that were coming from both of them were obscene. Heavy breathing, slurps, smacks; you were about to peak again from simply watching them. 

You straddled over your betrothed’s waist and sunk down onto him. Fuck fuck fuck. He was so big. The stretch of your body accommodating him had you inhaling sharply. You allowed your walls to fully adjust, and while you did Rhaenyra leaned forward and crashed her mouth to yours. Tongue, lips, a tease of teeth, she kissed you like she wanted to fucking consume you. Pure lust fired through your veins and you began bouncing on Hawin’s cock.

The princess’ hands were all over your breasts again. And, now, yours on hers, too. 

That’s how you all stayed for a time. Fucking, sucking, riding, reveling in each other as bliss blindly guided you to new heights of lasciviousness.

It was impossible to know who peaked first. It might have been Rhaenyra for how she shuddered upon Harwin’s face. It might have been him for how he flexed and roared beneath both of you, cock twitching mightily as he spent himself deep inside you. It might have been you for how you simpered his name again and again like a debauched prayer.

Whatever the case might have been, slowly you all came back to your senses. Sticky flesh, sweaty skin, and bedclothes that needed to be washed, the three of you cuddled amidst the lovely aftershocks of climax.

Each of you smiled broader than the other. Eyes, somehow, out twinkling each other.

“How do you think she did, sweetheart?” Harwin asked you, his gentle touch trailing over your arm.

“If tonight was a test, the test has been surpassed,” you answered with a giggle, idly playing footsie with the princess.

She beamed. “Good,” she said. She made delicate circles below your navel as she added, “the seed is strong, Lady Oakheart. Perhaps Harwin will give you one, too.”

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

Masterlist

See comment section for my main taglist and Aemond taglist! To be added or removed from either, please hit me up!

[theyluvlyss]

age gap😃? NOTHING CRAZY, CHILL, but yk, like,,, just a little young thing in her 20s or sumn being scooped up by one (or two🤭) of these older, more mature, aged like fine wine, and experienced men,,, that's all🥰.

I am thirsting so hard for remy after watching the movie… with this I can just imagine a young yet powerful mutant coming to the void and she never got the experience in sex in her timeline. So remy takes it upon himself to teach her the ways of the bedroom… first time may have involved a mistake with her powers when she cums for the first time but he’s so understandable and says like “you need to practice your control mon cherie” so he just dives back in for more (he makes her cum like 5-7 times from head alone cause he makes his woman feel amazing I bet) this is so long sorry hope you like this 😅🩷

𝐇𝐅𝐉𝐒𝐊𝐂𝐈𝐉𝐆𝐊𝐆𝐏𝐋𝐆𝐈𝐄𝐊𝐆𝐎𝐄𝐈𝐈𝐅𝐊𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐉𝐆 !!!!!

first of all,,, never apologize for length, especially to me who makes everything way longer than need be, we (I, it's just me, idk who "we" is lol) love and appreciate that shit over here. ppl who love absurdly long fics, requests, and other media unite✊🏽 !!!

second of all,,, *ugly sobbing* I'm always the writer and never (how does one actually say this properly🤔?) the writee, so for someone to have actually dropped this for me in my inbox is SO flattering and sweet and ughghfhf, you guys, I HIGHLY encourage more of this, I love it, I truly do.

third of all,,, THIS IS SO GOOD omg literally giggling and kicking my feet (I do that a lot on this app) !!! I am the same way, I saw gambit and just... idk what happened to me, something in my organic chemistry just altered forever and while I'm not and will probably never be a channing tatum girly, he did his goddamn JOB in that role, ATE IT TF UP👏🏽 (and I knew he would, it's about damn time like c'mon, he'd been promised the role for idk a decade or so like, again I say, about damn time) so while I might not be all over tatum, I am all over his portrayal of remy lebeau and I need more fics/content NEOOOWW😾 (plz😽) from y'all's little writer brains of yours.

anyways, onto what you've sent in specifically lmao, you said "young yet powerful mutant" and "mistake with her powers" and "...practice your control..." and for whatever reason, my brain conjured up a mutant reader with wings or just a power that involves maybe floating/telekinesis...😃✋🏽hear me out...

so, remy's getting busy, right, and he's making reader feel so good and, like you mentioned, she ain't got much control over her powers yet cuz she's younger than him, so she cvms and boom, her wings (whether they be feathered or fairy) just pop out without her realizing😻. or with telekinesis, the better she's feeling/closer she's getting, the more stuff/higher she's causing things around them to float because again, little and/or loss of control because he's making her feel that good (we all know he's got the tongue work of a god, I mean, just listen to the man speak for fuck's sake lmao🥴).

I think it'd definitely be a cute touch and fs something she'd get teased about from remy lmao.

[arlerts-angel]

Could I get a sex on the beach with a cherry on top for Rin Itoshi? :) 💕

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍹 ⋅ 𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐔𝐏 !

⟢ ingredients: 18+! mdni. ノ rin itoshi x fem reader ノ pwp ノ college au ノ hate sex ノ unprotected sex (piv) ノ cowgirl ノ creampie ノ rin is mean :( he literally doesn't touch you lol ノ bimbo-esque reader ノ some degradation: variations of slut, brat, whore ノ physically ambiguous reader ノ

⟢ wc: ~550

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈'𝐒 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 was not an easy task. in his mind, everyone in his vicinity was beneath him — nothing but lowly pissants who make the mountains that he moves.

and when you did manage to get his attention, it wasn't very long... nor was it pleasant, but you had it, and that's what you wanted.

he'd scoff and act irritated beyond belief, like he was doing charity work to give you his time of day. you didn't care, though. you were determined to fuck rin itoshi.

"rin!! got a minute?" you ask, knowing his answer will be...

"i certainly don't have time for your shit..." you say in unison. he glares at your grin.

"tch. you're an annoying brat" he sighs, looking down at you with a bird's eye view of your cleavage. he grows increasingly irritated at the sight of your skimpy uniform, yet turned on by your physique.

his cheeks grew bright red and warm, and he hoped like hell you wouldn't notice both his embarrassment or the excitement in his pants.

nothing gets past you, though.

"what's wrong rin? you've never seen tits before?" you taunt with a devilish grin.

"don't talk to me like that. it's trashy. though i should expect nothing less from you" he quips.

"oooh! fiesty today!" you giggle, feeling a pool of arousal growing in your panties.

"shut up, slut" he groans exasperatedly.

"mmm keep going rin, i'm close!" you moan playfully.

"fuck's sake..! you're so desperate. if i fuck you will you piss off?! he asks annoyedly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"oh, absolutely" you reply with a smirk.

he grabs your wrist tightly and drags you to his on-campus apartment. his cock silently begging to be freed from the confine of his pants. he slams the door behind you then slams himself down onto the couch.

"you want to fuck so bad? fuck me yourself then, slut" he spits as he takes his cock out of his pants. his tip is red hot and dripping with precum.

"take a fucking picture, it'll last... wha– are you drooling?! tch" he grumbles.

you sit yourself down on his pretty cock, studying his face and moaning as you adjust to his size.

"mmm rin!" you moan, rubbing your clit while slowly moving your hips.

"you're this fucking wet? i haven't touched you... filthy slut" he hisses as his cock is enveloped by your tight cunt.

his eyes flutter and roll back as you slam yourself up and down his length, earning a few grunts and groans of pleasure. you grin and squeeze his cock tighter. "shit... just like that, right there" he groans and grips the cushions.

"nngh! rin! 'm gonna cum!" you cry out, feeling a jolt of electricity strike your clit as you reach your orgasm. your pace slows as you recover.

rin groans as he feels your cunt pulsing around his cock, then again when your pace quickens. "fuck..! ugh-!" he groans as his cock twitches one final time, then dumps his load deep inside you.

rin catches his breath while you gather your belongings. "as promised, i'll stop bothering you now" you grin.

"right, and don't even think about telling anyone about this, got it?" rin scoffs while he cleans himself off.

you nod, then see yourself out.

support banner by saradika-graphics

note: this is my first time ever writing bllk/rin itoshi smut so please let me know how this was 🥺🤲 also forgive me if i'm rusty, i feel like i haven't written in ages !!

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 2 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 3.8k

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), some cussing, adult themes (not smut lol) (yet) (jk) (unless...), the mission finally starts, so much plot from here on out y'all so buckle up

a/n. i didn't get to include the most important bits that were supposed to be presented in this chapter because i got carried away with the buildup lol. exciting times ahead y'all. i have so much in store for you with this series. don't be a stranger and let's talk!

links. masterlist, ao3 (coming soon)

You can only stare back at the woman peering at you, her face painted with a thick layer of makeup, her hair styled to staged ‘effortless’ perfection, and her body wrapped in an outfit that’s equal parts provocative and refined.

Her image is so flawlessly curated—so much so that you barely notice the apprehension that’s hidden amidst her features, if it weren’t for the fact that that woman is you.

You can barely recognize yourself—and perhaps that’s the point of all this.

Asahi and Moriyama didn’t have to explicitly state it yesterday—they need you to put in every ounce of effort to make sure that you succeed, and that includes doing everything you can to supplement your quirk all the while keeping your real identity lowkey.

Even if it means looking like this.

You’re about to give in to your second thoughts and change out of the black, low-cut tank and beige cardigan you have on when an array of knocks echo from what you think is your front door, and you freeze.

With a cautious glance at your bedroom’s wall clock, you think you’re supposed to feel a wave of relief wash over you when you see that it’s 9:00 PM on the dot, the exact time Bakugou said he’d pick you up, which means no villain or mal intentioned person is at your front porch, but that doesn’t come.

Instead, the sense of dread that’s been stirring in your gut ever since you got swept by Asahi’s men yesterday only magnifies, leaving you a bit cold and…are you shaking?

You don’t get to dwell on that, though, because another round of rapping resonates from your foyer again, which somehow pulls you out of your nervous stupor. You hurriedly run to the door, not even bothering to check through the peephole, opening it with a turn of the knob to see Bakugou.

Wearing a white face mask and decked in a fitting black hoodie, with his ash-blonde hair peeking through the sides of a dark baseball cap.

His fist is frozen mid-air as he stares at you, eyes slightly widened in shock, as if he didn’t believe you’re capable of this thing called punctuality. He promptly brings it down, though, schooling his expression into a neutral one, but not before giving you a quick once-over.

“Hey,” he offers, voice gruff and way lower than you remembered it back in high school.

“Hello,” you counter, looking back at your messy apartment out of habit. “I’m almost done. I just need to grab my purse.”

And, because you genuinely need to know for the sake of what you’re about to do, you ask: “Do I look okay?”

He must’ve not been anticipating that question, because his eyebrows furrow ever so minutely like you just caught him off guard. “Yeah,” he eventually replies after studying the entire length of your body once again.

And, you may have just imagined it, but you swear to god his eyes linger on your chest for a beat longer than necessary before he meets your gaze.

“You clean up…” he pauses, like he’s grasping for the right adjective, before settling with: “…decent.”

At that, you feel yourself deflate a bit. Maybe you wanted a more affirming answer, definitely not because you want that from him, but because you need to look good. However, if there’s anything the rumor mill told you back when you were still teenage students, it’s that Bakugou Katsuki was a man of few words when he was serious, let alone appreciative, so you take his comment in stride.

Besides, in comparison to how you looked yesterday, anything is an improvement, really.

“Thanks,” you respond, and you debate for a second whether or not to say the next thing but ultimately decide on it. “…And you look mildly disguised.”

That seems to ruffle Bakugou’s feathers. “Mildly?”

You shrug, suddenly feeling unsure about your honesty. “I get the hoodie and the cap and the face mask, but there’s no hiding your hulking frame, man.”

And really, there isn’t. How are you supposed to conceal a torso as large as that?

You gesture to his chest and shoulder area for further emphasis. “I don’t think you can pass up as a regular citizen but like as a non-descript athlete, maybe?”

To your dismay, Bakugou merely grunts before shaking his head. “This’ll work.”

Apparently already over your suggestion, he glances past your shoulder as he shifts his weight on his other foot. “Can you grab your purse now? We’ve to get going.”

Now, you’ve got half a mind to argue and try to convince him that maybe going for a better disguise is better in the long run but you’re silenced by his domineering gaze. So instead, you nod before rushing back to your bedroom and grabbing the bag you already prepared beforehand, as well as your phone that’s charging on top of your bedside table.

Although it won’t be of much use later, or in the coming few weeks, if everything goes according to plan.

“Ready?” he asks when you return to the doorway with your things in tow.

“Yup,” you retort as you lock the door behind you, and just like that, you’re well on your way to a potential death sentence.

You’re in the elevator going down to the ground floor by the time he speaks up again. “We’re commuting,” he starts, not looking at you but instead scrutinizing the barely hanging on floor buttons. “Can’t risk raising suspicion by driving there.”

“Where are we going, exactly?” you ask just as the elevator dings, signifying your arrival.

The doors burst open, and he steps out. “You’ll see.”

The commute to wherever the hell it is you two are going is quiet.

Bakugou didn’t divulge any further details as you stepped out of your building, wordlessly ordering you with a stern look to just follow. Frankly, you don’t like how you’re being kept in the dark, but you don’t contend. You’re acutely aware that you have a limited number of cards to play with Bakugou, and you have to play them right, if you want to even survive this mission without your partnership falling apart and jeopardizing the entire thing. Wasting a card on stupid information would be downright foolish on your end.

Even the walk to the bus stop is silent, and so is the entire ride. Despite it being quite late into the evening, the vehicle is still somewhat crowded, which you chalk up to it being a Friday night. You find yourself relaxing in your seat as the realization dawns on you—perhaps there was no point in getting too riled up about getting noticed.

And besides, you’re taking extra precautions, too. You’re not sitting next to each other, because he’s trying to stave off attention while you’re straining to catch it. Maybe not of these strangers, but of the people you’re going to meet later on.

Roughly 10 minutes and a short subway ride later, you climb up the underground stairs to a stop you vaguely remember hearing from your coworkers about. You recall how she described an old party district right in the middle of Musutafu, and sure enough, the text on the street signs match the name she recounted during one of your lunch breaks.

“Over here,” Bakugou calls out from a few feet ahead of you. You quickly quit your observing and follow suit, mindful of keeping an appropriate, not at all questionable distance between the two of you.

After what felt like walking five blocks from the subway, you see Bakugou halt and make a left into a poorly lit alleyway. You hesitate for a second, having been on autopilot and going straight for the last how many minutes. You’re able to swiftly gather yourself, though, steering in the same direction.

The moment that you do, it instantly registers to you that you’re not just in the party district anymore. If the dingy signages and the palpable seediness of the alley are any indication, you’re most likely in the red-light district now.

Suddenly, everything feels a bit too real, and you barely catch yourself stumbling back on your feet. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Bakugou, who instinctively moves to reach out for you from where he’s standing. He pauses, though, when you’re able to regain your bearings with a slightly embarrassed smile.

“Sorry,” you offer meekly.

He eyes you with the very same inexplicable expression from before. “You good?”

You’re not about to tell him you’re scared shitless, so you give him a half-hearted nod. Turning to study the exterior of the small building, you take in the lightly peeling paint and the booming music emanating from it. “This the place?”

“Yes,” he answers without missing a beat. “Are you sure you’re good?”

You whip to look back at Bakugou, who, if you didn’t know any better, is now looking apprehensive.

You decide then and there that you have to get your shit together.

Bravery is contagious, but so is fear.

For a second, you contemplate using your quirk on yourself to calm your nerves down, but eventually decide against it. There are much bigger fish to fry tonight, and what’s the point of learning all those damned breathing and grounding techniques if you’re not going to use them?

“I’m ready,” you finally tell him after a moment of both of you standing there. “Let’s go in before we start looking unusual out here.”

If Bakugou notices the unease you’re sure you’re radiating, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he gives you a curt nod, before turning to open the door.

And when he does, you’re almost instantaneously flooded by the music that was just escaping through the cracks and crevices of the run-down building. You fight the instinct to cover your ears as you step into the large room behind Bakugou, eyes quickly darting all over the place to drink in the scene before you.

Right in the back of the space is a stage that extends in the center as a runway to the middle of the room. The orange and pink mood lights illuminating the area are relatively dim minus the bulbs lining the set and walkway. And, beneath the elevated platform are what have to be pleather seats littered all over the floor—all of which are occupied by decidedly rambunctious men.

You resist the urge to wrinkle your nose as their boisterous laughter fills your ears, opting to face Bakugou instead.

“Hey,” you call out to him, who stops in his tracks to look at you. You sneak a glance at the people at the bar nearest the two of you, just to make sure they’re not listening in, before you continue. “Are you sure this is the place?”

You don’t have to peek beneath his mask to know he’s now scowling at you.

“What am I, a dumbass? I told you, this is it.” He then shifts away from you, far enough that you barely hear his next words. “…It has to be.”

Well.

That’s not exactly comforting.

Your discomfort only heightens when the already faint lights dim further, and the music switches from a pop song to which you know a bit of the lyrics to a rap that, if you were to base it on the first phrase, is all about having explicit, unprotected sex. The crowd of men cheers in anticipation, and as if on cue, a woman dressed in nothing but a two-piece lingerie emerges from the back of the stage, confirming your speculation of what the place is.

A strip club.

You watch as the woman confidently struts towards the center, and apparently, you’re no better than any of the men here because your gaze slowly roves over her slim and toned body, eyes catching at her cleavage that’s leaving nothing to the imagination. You can’t help it—you look down at your own chest, sinking in disappointment at the contrast before promptly looking up in embarrassment, only to find Bakugou studying you closely.

“It’s a strip club,” you blurt out, flustered at getting caught in the act. His eyes only narrow in a way that tells you what you’re already telling yourself: Thank you, Captain Obvious.

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, much to your relief, only moving to the far corner of the room where there are miraculously two seats unoccupied. You follow him with no further questions asked, plopping in the chair to his right, thankful you’re wearing black trousers so that your skin doesn’t have to go into contact with the sticky furniture.

You take the opportunity to clock the rest of the room, cataloguing the bar at the other end of the area near the entrance where a barista is swiftly taking and making orders all at the same time, while the men seated on the stools struggle to decide whether to look at the man or at the stripper now performing an elaborate dance around the pole. Amidst the decorated wall adjacent to the bar is a door with a restroom sign on it, and you squint just enough to see it’s only one stall for everyone. You make a mental note to hold in your pee, at least until you get out of here.

And, because you’re feeling nice, you shift to regard Bakugou with a good-natured smile on your face. “I hope you peed right before leaving your house.”

“What?” he says loud enough for you to hear him over the noise they’re calling music. “I can’t hear you.”

“Shit, right.” You lean in ever so minutely, and Bakugou mirrors you. You try to ignore the new-found proximity. “I said,” you repeat, with a little more volume this time, “I hope you peed right before fetching me. I bet the toilet’s filthy as shit.”

To your delight, not that you’d admit that to him in this lifetime, Bakugou smirks at your little quip after confirming the lone comfort room with his own eyes.

“Don’t worry about me, princess,” he starts, and you stiffen at the nickname, “I’m not the one who has to sit on one.”

You’re about to retort with something along the lines of what if he has to poop out of the blue, or at least try to, because the pet name has you gagged against your better judgment, when a ridiculously tall man clad in all black appears out of nowhere, startling you.

“The f—”

“Dynamight,” the behemoth of a guy cuts you off, eyes trained on the pro-hero beside you and completely ignoring your presence. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“Took you long enough to approach me,” Bakugou sneers, oozing with the confidence you can’t find within yourself right now. “I hate sleazy places like this.”

To that, the man only bows his head slightly, face solemn but devoid of remorse. You watch him as his eyes finally drift to you, albeit for only a split second, before looking back at Bakugou. “Follow me, sir.”

The ash blonde does so, perhaps a tiny bit begrudgingly, and you speedily get up along with him. The two men turn to move, and you’re about to take a step closer towards their direction when a long arm shoots up in front of you, keeping you in place.

Any protests die in your throat when you look up and see the guy’s menacing glare.

“If you don’t mind,” he grits through his teeth, “Only Dynamight is needed.”

“She’s with me,” comes Bakugou’s commanding tone. You chance a glance at the pro-hero, whose countenance is so serious you’d be afraid if you were the one he’s talking to.

“But, sir—”

“It’s the two of us or we’re leaving,” Bakugou demands.

The two engage in a stare down which you witness for what feels like a few minutes before the man finally looks away, frustration etched across his intimidating features. He glares at you once more, as if you’re the one who’s insisting on being Bakugou’s plus one, and you’re about to be convinced that he’s mentally chanting a spell to make you disappear when he gestures for you to follow him with a flick of a head.

You gradually release the breath you didn’t know you were holding as you shadow them as they enter one of the doors on the wall perpendicular to where you were just stationed. It leads to a staircase that swerves in the middle, and you lock eyes with Bakugou as he makes the turn ahead of you. Neither of you says a word, opting to keep on trailing the man, even as you land on the second floor, which looks more and more like a prostitution den.

Once again, your conjecture is confirmed as you walk down the hallway and past several sets of doors on both sides, from which emanate a cacophony of sensual moans and groans. You wonder what Bakugou’s thinking right now, although you can’t get a read on him as you can only observe his backside.

Finally, after what seems like a tortuous eternity, the man stops right in front of the door at the end of the hallway, and you pause right behind him.

He looks back at Bakugou and you with what you’re pretty sure is caution, before knocking on the door twice, and then another two times but in rapid succession.

“Come in,” is what the muffled voice on the other side says.

And so you do.

You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting, because you’ve never actually been in a service room before, but you at least anticipated a bed on which certain…activities can be done.

But what you’re met with instead seems to be a refurbished lounge room with floor-to-ceiling brick walls, black and red quilted couches, and a bar at the far side all lit up with moody orange lighting.

And smack dab in the middle of it—sprawled so languidly all over the furniture—are three individuals.

Three individuals who immediately look at Bakugou.

It’s them, alright. You don’t need your extensive training in reading people to know that these are the ones you came all the way here for.

You quickly take note of their appearances. The seemingly old man who has to be in his late 50s is seated—quite relaxed—in one of the scarlet solo chairs. He’s slim, bordering on frail, but the glint in his eye as he peers at Bakugou tells you that it’d be unwise to rule him out as one of your main threats.

Juxtaposing his age which is further revealed by his shoulder-length salt and pepper hair is the young woman plastered on the couch adjacent to his.

Or maybe ‘woman’ is a bit too generous…

It’s not obvious at first glance, but you immediately notice how some of her body parts appear to be outright robotic in the literal sense. Perhaps it’s her long, pin-straight, jet-black hair that softens her entire look, but there’s no mistaking what seems to be an artificial left eye, a metallic right arm, and angled, silver lips. She’s wearing long pants so there’s no telling which other parts of her are made up of what you think is steel, but the ones visible to you already tell you enough.

And then there’s the third and last man, who, in comparison to the other two, is remarkably…plain.

There isn’t an air of age-induced wisdom around him, nor is there anything peculiar about his body. He looks like just about any other 40-year-old-ish Japanese man you know, with short black hair, an unassuming face, and semi-formal clothes that are quite loose on his not-buff but not exactly thin body either.

But to your surprise, it’s him that the hilariously huge guy from earlier directly reports to.

“Pro-hero Dynamight, sir, as you requested. And…” the ‘escort’ trails off, and for a split second, you feel kind of sorry you’re here and making things complicated for him. “…he brought company.”

“Finally,” the plain-looking man pipes up from his seat, and even his voice is generic. “And here we thought you were never going to come meet us.”

Placing what suspiciously looks like a glass of whiskey on the table in front of him, the man shifts to fully regard Bakugou. “I see that you’ve deciphered the messages we’ve been sending you?”

“No shit,” comes Bakugou’s blunt response, and for a beat, you seriously consider using your quirk on him to make him calm the fuck down.

You decide against it.

To your chagrin, he drones on. “Y’all gotta do better. That was barely even a code.”

At that, the old male barks out a laugh while the plain-looking man only chuckles. “Of course, we expect nothing less from the #2 pro-hero. But…” the latter trails off, eyes finally landing on you. You quickly put on the most endearing smile you can muster, suddenly regretting not touching up your makeup upon sitting earlier. Thankfully, though, he smiles back, before redirecting his focus back on Bakugou.

“I see you brought precious cargo. Is there any reason why she’s here with us?”

“We want in your organization,” Bakugou replies without hesitation. “The both of us.”

And when none of them say anything in response, Bakugou presses.

“You need me, right? I heard you’re planning an attack. I want to join.”

“Yes,” the old man finally speaks up, not even denying it yet his voice is riddled with misplaced humor. “We do, in fact, need you. But what use do we have of this girl?”

“She’s got a useful quirk,” Bakugou supplies, before turning to look at you and then back at them. “Luck. She boosts the success rate of anyone she works with.”

“Luck?” the old geezer says back so incredulously, you feel your eye twitch in annoyance. If he only knew what you were fully capable of. He can’t, though, if you want to get out of this entire situation alive. “I don’t think we’ll need that as long as we have you, boy.”

“Well, tough luck,” spews Bakugou, a little bit too sarcastically for your comfort. “Because, as I’ve told your little lackey here,” he gestures to the definitely not little guy from earlier, “It’s both of us or I’m out.”

“The both of you, huh?” muses the plain-looking man who’s seeming to be more and more like the leader of the group by the second.

Once again, silence envelopes the room when none of them utter a single word, with you and Bakugou watching in anxious (you) and impatient (him) anticipation. You observe their facial expressions as they have a wordless exchange, and judging by how the ancient and the robotic girl are looking at the ordinary man, you guess your hunch about him is right.

Eventually, they appear to reach an agreement, and the leader adjusts just enough to look at the both of you directly.

You brace yourself with bated breath.

He flashes you a modest smile.

“It’s a deal, then.”

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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[slut4thebroken]

Favorite Toy

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x dom!reader

Summary | Jon just can’t control himself when it comes to you, but you always make sure he cleans up after himself when you’re finished.

Warnings | 18+, smut, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, degradation, praise, objectification, cream pie, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, come eating, he’s a whore but he’s our whore, dom!reader is so mean and we love it, fluff, aftercare, sub space, a lil bit of soft dom!reader at the end

Words | 2.8 k

Notes | I don’t remember what I saw that inspired me to write this but… god bless whatever that was 🙏🏻 I might edit this again later lol

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Oh god- please.” He moaned into the kiss, grabbing your hips tightly. You continued grinding on him and pulling his hair, not responding to his plea yet. “Please… fuck.” 

Mostly for your own sake rather than his, you relented. You removed his clothes and your own quickly, then placed your hands on his chest as you kneeled over his hips. He let out a choked moan when you sunk down on his cock and you bit your lip to keep your sounds to a minimum. You stared down at him, admiring his flushed cheeks and red lips that were wet from the kiss. 

“That feel good?” 

“Yes— oh god, yes. Please,” He said through a breath, whimpering and trying to grind his hips up into you. 

You lifted your hips slowly, then lowered them just as slow. After only two more thrusts, his eyes squeezed shut and he threw his head back with a low moan, making you freeze. You could feel his cock twitching inside of you and the heat of his come against your walls. 

“Hnngh- no.. no, please.” He whimpered, trying to get the stimulation back. 

“Did you just fucking come?” You asked, almost in disbelief, once his body sagged into the bed and he started panting as he calmed down. 

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry, I— Normally I can last longer.” He defended, cheeks burning even redder now. “I- I can eat you out? To make you come. Please?” You let out a loud laugh, making his brows furrow. 

“Oh, angel… you don’t think we’re done do you?”  

“W-” Before he could even get the word out, you were continuing, fucking yourself on his length, making him choke out moans and whimpers. “Fuck— fuck, wait… Please,”

“Save it. If you didn’t want to be overstimulated, you shouldn’t have come only a few seconds after getting this pathetic fucking dick in my cunt.” You spat, making him groan. “I don’t care if it’s too much. I’m going to fuck myself with my dildo until I come and you’re going to thank me for using you instead of my other toys.” 

“Fuck,” He gasped out, fingers gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, but not controlling your movements. “Oh god— thank you.” He whimpered, face scrunched up in painful pleasure. 

“I’m not convinced. Should I go get another toy?” 

“No! No- I’m sorry. Thank you— Thank you for using me.” He cried, staring up at you with wide, pleading eyes. 

“That’s more like it.” You cupped his cheek, running your thumb over his swollen lips, then suddenly jerked your hand back and smacked him across the face. His head turned from the impact as a loud moan escaped his lips. 

“I can’t believe you fuck like a goddamn virgin.” You spat, wrapping your hand around his neck and squeezing. “Is my pussy too much for you, baby? Can you not take it?” You cooed mockingly, making him whine. 

“N-no I… I can take it. Please, I can take it, I promise.” He whimpered, eyes welling with tears of desperation and overstimulation. 

“Hm… I guess we’ll see then, won’t we?” Your hips started more of a rocking motion as you leaned back up, releasing his neck to steady yourself with a hand on the headboard. “Well don’t just lay there like a fucking pillow princess. Rub my clit, play with my nipples, do something.” 

“Sorry— I’m sorry.” He decided to do both, one hand reaching down to rub firm circles over your clit and the other rolling your nipple between his fingers. When that wasn’t enough he snaked his hand around to your back and pulled you down, his head meeting halfway so he could suck your nipple into his mouth. 

“Good boy.” He whimpered against you, then kissed his way to the other one to give it the same treatment. “This is why you’re my favorite toy, baby. You do exactly what your purpose is— make me feel good. Sure you can get a little eager and come embarrassingly fast but the pros definitely outweigh the cons.” He whined at the subtle degradation, but you could feel his cock twitch against your walls. 

“Don’t tell me you’re about to come again?” You scoffed in mock disbelief, making him lean up even more so he could bury his face in the crook of your neck and trail kisses across it. “Awe, honey… Are you getting a little shy?” You cooed, running your fingers through his hair. “Don’t be. I think it’s cute— reminds me of how desperate I can make you.” You chuckled, making him whine. 

“Go ahead then. Make another fucking mess— but just know, you will be cleaning it up later.” He let out a strangled whimper as his whole body stiffened, then started twitching and spasming. “There you go, just get it all out, darling.” You cradled his head and slowed your hips to a stop when his orgasm finally faded. “You make the cutest little whimpers when you come.” His cock twitched inside you again, making him release a pained whine. 

“But let’s see now… That was two orgasms for you, and how many for me again? Oh that’s right. Zero. All because you’re a greedy little slut who can't wait longer than a few minutes before coming.” You spat, roughly pulling on his hair to move him away from your body so you could see him. “Fucking pathetic. First I have to do all the work, then you can’t even make me come.” 

“No- no… ‘m sorry.” He mumbled. Of course he’s already worn out before you’ve even started. 

“God— look at you.” You took his cheeks in one hand and turned his face side to side, examining him. “So fucked out already. You getting tired, baby?” 

“No… ‘m awake.” 

“If you’re not, you will be soon.” You started riding him again, chasing your own orgasm now. You threw your head back with a low groan, listening to his pained moans and whimpers. “I can’t believe a cock this good is attached to a pathetic little boy who can’t control himself. It’s a shame really.” He let out a choked sob and despite the fact that he was all but begging you to stop, he still continued rubbing your clit, bringing you closer to the edge. 

“But it’s okay. I know how to handle bitches like you; just ignore them. Let them whine and beg and tire themselves out until you have a pliant, fucked out toy. I can tell you’re almost there, baby. Just let go.” He whined and squirmed, tears of humiliation and overstimulation brimming in his eyes, making the pale blue all the more beautiful. “I know all you want is to be my good boy, so just let go.” You whispered, gaze trailing all over his face, from his flushed cheeks to his red, swollen lips. “You can do it, angel. I’m right here— I got you. Just let go for me.” He let out one last pathetic whimper as a tear rolled down his temple into his hair. His bottom lip was trembling now and you leaned down to give him a soft kiss. 

“There you go. I’m so proud of you, honey. Just let me make us both feel good, yeah?” He bit his lip and nodded slowly, making the corners of your lips turn up. 

“Think you can come one more time?” He whimpered and averted his gaze, and for a second you almost thought he was about to say no or the safe word. 

“Yes.” He whispered instead, making your heart flutter. 

“Good boy. You’re so good for me.” You cupped his face, running your thumb over his cheek bone. “I know you can’t help it, baby. It makes me feel so good though, knowing how much you like it.” 

“‘m sorry.” He whimpered. 

“I know, angel. It’s okay. Make me come and I’ll forgive you, okay?” He nodded and you gave him a warm smile in return. Your breath caught in your throat and your hips stuttered when he rubbed your clit faster and harder. “That’s it.” You said through a breath. “Just like that.” 

You could feel yourself nearing the edge, so you forced yourself to continue even though your legs were starting to burn. When his pained moans turned into desperate whimpers, you knew he was close too. Trailing a hand down his chest, you brushed your fingers over his nipple, then pinched lightly, making his back arch into your touch as he let out a choked moan. 

“Oh god—“ He whined, more tears falling. “Fuck, I- I’m close…” He whispered. 

“Yeah? Keep it up, angel— doing so good for me, I’m almost there.” 

“God- it hurts.” He whimpered, body conflicted on whether it wanted more or less of the stimulation. You released his nipple and slowed into a rocking motion, making him whine. 

“What’s your color?” You asked softly, just wanting to be sure. His brows furrowed as his hips squirmed under yours. 

“Green…” He muttered, cheeks flushing. You brushed his hair out of his face a little more and he closed his eyes at the gentle touch. 

“Tell me the second it changes, okay?” 

“I will.” You could tell he was getting needy again after being so close to another orgasm. You suddenly picked up the pace and started bouncing up and down, making him throw his head back with a strangled moan. When you rested your hands on his chest for extra support, his free hand shot up to hold your arm, so you grabbed his hand and intertwined your fingers before pinning it to the bed. 

“Please.. Want you to come.” He whined, rubbing your clit impossibly faster. 

“I will, baby. Almost there.” You said through a breath. He stared up at you with half lidded, glossy eyes, his lips parted in a silent moan as his chest heaved. “You look so perfect like this.” You whispered, making his already flushed cheeks turn even redder. “My pretty boy.” He whined and gripped your hand tighter in response. 

If the feeling of hot come hitting your walls wasn’t enough of an indication, his eyes squeezing shut and the long, strangled whine he let out made it obvious. His fingers on your clit faltered, but quickly picked up again once his orgasm started to fade. 

While part of you wanted to edge yourself and keep torturing him, you couldn’t hold back at the sound of his pained whimpers, so you let yourself fall over the edge. It was hard to keep up the movement of your hips through your orgasm, but he maintained steady pressure on your clit, letting you ride it out. 

“Fuck, good boy.” You groaned, dragging your nails down his chest as your other hand tightened around his. His breath hitched at the sting, but you could feel his cock twitch nonetheless. You panted as you calmed down, needing to bat his hand away from your clit once you got too sensitive. 

“Ready to clean up your mess?” You asked, still breathless. He nodded, staring up at you with wide eyes, wincing when you lifted yourself off his softening cock. You moved quickly, shuffling up his body until your legs were on either side of his head. “Every drop, okay?” He nodded again, then eagerly wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you down onto his face. He focused mostly on your hole, licking up your shared arousal and fucking his tongue inside you. When you pulled back, he whined and looked up at you, wondering why you made him stop. You reached down and scooped up some of his come, then sucked it off your finger, making his lips part as his eyes widened. 

“Tastes good. Want some?” You asked, even though he was already tasting it. He nodded dumbly and you scooped up some more then put it in your mouth and grabbed his cheeks to keep his mouth open as you leaned over him. He let out a choked moan when you spit his come into his mouth and you could practically feel how warm his cheeks were getting under your hand. 

“Swallow.” He whined and averted his gaze, but did what you said. “Good boy.” You lightly hit his cheek then got back into position over his face. He picked up where he left off eagerly and you placed a hand in his hair to hold him against you. Your legs were starting to shake and you desperately needed to stretch your knees, but you didn’t want to stop— not yet. 

“Enjoying yourself?” He moaned in agreement, making your hips buck against his face. “Yeah I bet you are. Fucking filthy— lapping up your own come from my pussy like a fucking dog.” He whined and looked up at you with furrowed brows, his eyes becoming glossy with tears. “Isn’t that right, puppy?” The new pet name had him working even more enthusiastically, sucking and licking the come out of you and occasionally giving your clit some attention. 

Originally you weren’t planning on coming again, you were just going to have him clean up his mess and that was it. But you forgot how talented he is with his mouth… 

“You want me to come on your face?” He released a muffled “yes!” against you, not bothering to pull away just to speak. You suddenly lifted yourself off of him and laid down to give your legs a break, making him look at you like a kicked puppy. “Get to it then.” You said, gesturing to your lower half. He quickly got up and settled between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs to hold you as he continued. You sighed and reached down to pet his hair, not yet grabbing it, much to his dismay. You moaned lowly and his eyes snapped up to your face. 

“At least you don’t eat pussy like a virgin.” You smirked, watching him avert his gaze. “Don’t be embarrassed, honey, it was a compliment.” It wasn’t really a compliment though, which he seemed to pick up on. 

The sound of him slurping up your shared arousal was loud compared to your stifled moans and you let your eyes fall shut as you focused on your impending orgasm. When he started whimpering and whining though, you opened your eyes again, finding his hips grinding against the bed. 

“Greedy fucking slut. Trying to come again?” He whined and looked up at you with furrowed brows. You could tell he was trying to stop the movement of his hips. “If you like the taste of your own come this much, maybe I shouldn’t let you come inside me anymore. Maybe I’ll just have you come in a cup so you can drink it instead.” He released a muffled whine as a protest. 

“How about this, you make me come in the next 30 seconds, and I’ll let you keep coming inside. Sound fair?” He nodded enthusiastically, making you smirk. “Alright. Clock starts now.” The only reason you gave him this challenge was because you’re already close. You like having him come inside just as much as he does and you’re too hedonistic to deny yourself that pleasure.

He ate you out desperately, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, and you didn’t even bother with counting because you knew you were only seconds away from your orgasm. Tightening your grip on his hair, you pushed him into your cunt, making him whimper. Finally you fell over the edge, letting out a low moan and grinding on his face as you held him close enough to suffocate him. But he didn’t even attempt to protest, not when you were literally coming on his face. Once your orgasm finally started to fade, you pulled him away, making him whine. 

“C’mere, pretty boy.” You said softly. He crawled up the bed and laid by your side even though most of his body was on yours anyway. You grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and wiped his face before letting him lay on your chest. “Such a good boy. Made me feel so good.” You cooed and he snuggled into your chest even more as he hugged your torso. You ran your fingers through his hair and he let out a satisfied hum. 

“How are you feeling, honey?”  

“Good. Deep.” He mumbled. The first time he said that, you didn’t realize that he meant deep into sub space and he had a hard time getting the words out to explain. But now you know that it’s as close as he can get to giving you a heads up about the way he’s feeling. 

“Tired?” He hummed in agreement. “Me too.” The exhaustion hit you full force once your orgasm finished and you were just laying down.

“I love you.” He mumbled sleepily, making the corners of your lips turn up as your heart fluttered. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head before responding. 

“I love you too, angel.” 

Taglist

@scarecrow-jon-babe @quietnymph11 @obsessiveimpulses

[celestie0]

hi friends, i won’t be posting or updating any of my works for an indefinite period n will be on hiatus from this blog as well.

i’ve unlisted kickoff & ihm on ao3 (haven’t deleted, they’ve just been made private) and i’ve unpinned my masterlist here on tumblr (again nothing’s been deleted so you could probably find the chapters if you searched my tags)

but the reason i did that is because i don’t want any new readers finding my works during my hiatus because i don’t want to potentially upset more people in the event that, during this hiatus, i decide that i would no longer like to write my fics

that would be an insanely sad decision to make. i put so much thought into my stories not because i am trying to make them entertaining, but it’s because they genuinely mean so much to me and are cathartic in ways i can’t describe. i have spent a great majority of my life self negating for the sake of others, and so writing was just a form of expression where i could talk about all the things i’ve suppressed over the years - anxiety, career stress, financial stress, avoidance, depression, loss, coming of age, navigating love, etc

but lately, and i do think it’s been a build up of just some careless words from a handful of people over the months, i find myself steering towards a practice of writing that is no longer asking the question “how can i put as much of myself in this piece as possible?” but rather “how can i make sure people won’t criticize this…i feel awful that it doesn’t have what they want it to have…other creators are doing xyz, should i be doing that too?…i’m just scared to share this”

not exactly sure when that shift in headspace began, but as of right now, it’s as strong as ever. and i understand that those questions may seem irrational, and i just have to try to not focus on the feeling, n i wish i was someone that could compartmentalize those thoughts better, but here’s the thing — the whole reason i started expressing myself through writing in the first place was because i’ve spent my whole life compartmentalizing. it would feel so ironic & untrue to the lessons i’ve learned in this journey if i just chose to “suck this up” and continue pushing forward until i reach a point of burnout simply because i don’t want to upset anyone

i’m really sorry i couldn’t focus on the positive. especially with all the insane n incredible amount of love n support i’ve received for my works. i’ve said this time n time again but when i started posting kickoff to ao3 back in january of this year, i had NO idea it would be this loved by so many people…i was like ok can’t wait to interact w these four readers for the rest of the year…and then BAM, i find myself fully sobbing after each chapter update because i was so touched by all the sweet n kind words. i don’t want this decision to come off in a way that makes it seems like i don’t love u guys sm or that i’m ungrateful — i’ve always taken pride in respecting my audience. even for a simple hobby, i try to put effort into my works. i proofread, i plan out, i edit in length, all because i am, well, for one, i’m a bit of a perfectionist LOL but also i think there’s a great deal of honor in respecting an audience that gives you their time n attention

but i already am struggling in my life to focus on the positive. medicine has been such an incredibly daunting career to pursue, i’m honestly only doing slightly better now because i’m just filled with relief that i got into med school to begin with lol it’s still surreal to me, so the stress has been kinda manageable so far on that sense of optimism, but dear god the shit i went through to get here…and the shit i know i still face ahead of me. i spend all of my serotonin on trying to stay positive in the face of my responsibilities. so all of this time i’ve spent trying to stay positive for the sake of my stories too has just left me with so much exhaustion — i just don’t see why posting my works should be anything less than fun and endlessly exciting when it’s a hobby that’s supposed to help me thru the actual brunt of life.

anyways, i’m getting a little carried away here. all this to say, i just need to take time away from posting my works so i can see writing as something for myself n not for others again. i don’t want the thoughts swimming in my head to be thoughts of anxiety over people potentially criticizing me n my creative decisions. i want the thoughts in my head to once again be positive, excited, and nurturing towards my stories. i don’t see how i can accomplish that at this point unless i start writing for myself once more, and not for others

i still have a great deal of passion to write, which is why i haven’t formally taken down my works. i anticipate that i may be able to come back in the future to share my writing again. but as of right now, i just want to heal the relationship that i have with this hobby, and i feel like that’s gotta happen in private (lmfao it sounds like im tryna freak my writing)

i’m sorry that i turned off my asks n my replies, i know so many of u care about me n want to support me n i just am beyond thankful. i don’t anticipate this is a forever goodbye, but i do just need some time rn away from all of this.

hope u all have a happy time!! and take care of yourselves :) much love

- ellie

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 1-Wet dreams-Illumi/Reader

Notes:  btw since you also come from a famous assassin clan your last name is Yomi(shadow in japanese, but it doesnt really mean your japanese or any aithnecity) and your parents make a brief appearance. I modeled them barely after my own parents but you can pretty much put any parents over them lol

Title from ‘You Can't Hurry Love' by The Supremes

...

Illumis knew you hated his guts. You walked with purpose from room to room, location to location, perfectly made up and neat in a kimono. You chatted with your assistants, handed out raises generously to the butlers, and laughed and smiled in the garden with your friends. But you barely spared him a glance. All you could muster was a small, fake smile, and maybe if you were in a good mood, a simple greeting. 

“Hello, husband.”

You ground out the word ‘husband’ like it was a curse. Illumi would simply blink, and return your greeting.

“Hello, my wife.”

You would smile that fake plastic smile that always managed to appear when he was near, and remove yourself from the situation as fast as possible. Illumi didn't mind your attitude. He had no attachments to you, you were simply a woman his parents had picked. He knew you hadn't volunteered for this, and so he simply let your barbs roll off his shoulders and carried on with his day. He was sure he had no interest in you. 

His parents had raised him not to fall for pretty women with pretty smiles. Pretty smiles that were never tossed his way. 

He remembered so clearly your first meeting. Years ago, when you were both younger, when you were softer, when you smiled at him.

♡♡♡

“Straighten your collar.” Mother said. Illumis back twitched, reaching up to fiddle with the black collar of his kimono, pulling the white of his undershirt slightly, so it peaked over the outer collar. He felt stiff and trapped. And hot. Mother had combed his shoulder length hair neatly, so it fell prettily around his neck. Illumi felt like a bird, forced to preen for the sake of his parents. eighteen was too young to be engaged. Illumi frowned, brows furrowing across his pale skin.

“Tell me mother,” He asks. “Why must I do this? Why not Miluki.”

His mother cocks an eyebrow, standing across the small waiting room of their house. They are waiting for the guests.

“You're the most presentable of my children,” Kikyo said, straightening the hem of her dark purple kimono. Her eye visor blinked. “Straighten your back and try to make a good impression. That wedding Kimono was your fathers.”

Illumi raises his arm to run a hand through his hair, but freezes and Kikyo's glare. He lowers his hand back down slowly. Kikyo folds her hands delicately across her lap

“You know how important this alliance is, Illumi.” She scolds, “her family will be a vital asset.”

Illumi nods stiffly, adjusting his black haori. He doesn't want to marry. He doesn't want someone tying him down. 

“Excited, son?” Silva has arrived, Zeno grumbling behind him. Illumi shakes his head.

“I don't want to marry,” He protests. SIlva laughs, landing a hand on Illumis shoulder.

“I know, but this match is quite important to the future of the Zoldyck clan.” He explains, patting Illumi gently on the shoulder. “Name is a powerful woman, whose talent will certainly be useful in the future. Not to mention an alliance with her family is ideal for us.”

Illumi nods obediently, absorbing the information. But nothing they say truly makes him want to do this. Silva laughs.

“Don't be too upset, son. I hear she's very beautiful.” He says with a chuckle, giving Illumi one last pat on the back, and moving towards Kikyo. She eyes him up and down, taking in his work attire, and sighs a great, gusty sigh. Before she can complain, the main door opens with a slam. They're here.

Kikyo stands tall, Silva next to her, Illumi beside him, Zeno on his other side. They stand in a neat line. Awaiting their visitors.

Illumi can make out five figures. Two silent handmaidens clothed in dark blue kimonos, sharp eyes demurely pointed down. Their obviously trained bodyguards. They walk in front of the three figures, deceptive smiles on their faces. 

Next come two older figures. A tall, muscled man, who glares around the room. And a shorter woman, who smiles almost too kindly. They must be your parents, the leaders of your family. And before the, almost surrounded, almost protected, is a figure clothed in white and red.

You stand out brilliantly against the blues and blacks of the backgrounds, the white and red of your kimono almost glowing in the lamplight. But what strikes Illumi silent, is your face. You are beautiful. Illumi feels a weird beating in his chest. Your eyes dart nervously from person to person, never quite landing on him. Illumi fights down the odd desire to move forward, to do something. He doesn't know what. Kikyo is the first to speak

“How lovely to meet you,” She says, moving forward. Your mother moves in return, smiling at Kikyo and moving forward. The adults dissolve into pleasantries. Illumi stays still, as the room springs into motion around him. All he can see is you across from, glowing and clothed in white. Spit is gathering in his mouth, and Illumi gulps it down and moves forward.

“Hello,” He says when he stands before you. He sounds like a robot. You smile shyly, ribbons of hair falling down around your shoulders.

“Hi,” You say, offering a hand. Illumi looks at it. Your hand is small and delicate, with small rounded nails. They shimmered in the light. Illumi had the urge to kiss it. You frown.

“Not one for handshakes?” You ask, disguising your disappointment with a small laugh. Illumi frowns, grabbing your hand as it recedes.

“No!” Illumi gets out a little too eargerly. You look up at him, confusion in your pretty eyes. Illumi takes your hand in his own.

Your hand is soft and the back of his neck and his ears suddenly hot. You giggle nervously as Illumi gently lowers your hand, and a pretty flush graces your cheeks. Illumi almost preens like a bird. You liked him. He liked that. He liked you. 

“We haven't introduced ourselves properly,” You say, a smile gracing your painted lips, Illumis eyes follow the movement. He feels strangely hungry. 

“Yes,” He says. You wait, and when the silence continues, you speak first.

“I am Name Lastname, oldest daughter of the Yomi family.” You say. Your name is as pretty as you. Illumi nods.

“Illumi Zoldyck, eldest son of the Zoldyke family.” He says. You smile again, posture relaxing a little. Illumis eyes catch on the flash of skin as your collar slides down a bit. He can see a hint of collarbone.

“It's nice to meet you, Illumi,” You say. He likes the way your mouth forms the syllables of his name.

“You too, Name.” He returns. He still sounds like a robot, but as you smile, he feels himself relax a bit. The adults are still chatting around you, in a small circle as they talk about anything and everything, but all he can see is you in front of him. Suddenly, marriage doesn't sound so bad.

“Do you, um, want a tour?” he asks, his voice cracking a bit, he hopes you don't notice. A grin lights up your face, and you nod happily.

Oh yes,” You say, “i'd love one.”

Illumi almost smiles, but instead offers his arm. For a moment, he worries your won't take it. You’ll scoff and roll your eyes and leave to marry a much nicer boy—

Your hand wraps around his arm, heating his cold skin. Illumi shivers. As he leads you through the archway and deeper into the house, he can feel your presence next to him. The scent of your perfume lingers in the air. Intoxicating. Illumi feels hot, flustered, and emberassed. And for the first time in a while, happy.

“Well, what do we have here.” 

Illumi looks up, already dreading the sight he knows hes gonna see. Sure enough, Hisoka stands before him, wearing jeans and a black tutrleneck and grinning like the cat that got the cream.

Illumi frowns.

“Whose this?” You asks. Your peartched beside him on the couch of the library, hands folded neatly in your lap. Illumi holds back a groan as Hisokas eyes slide to you. His eyes take you in, your pretty face and your white wedding kimono, and he smirks. 

“Yeah Illumi, introduce me to your pretty lady friend.” Hisoka says. You giggle, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Illumi���s stomach sinks. 

“This is Name, my fiance.” he says. “Name, meet Hisoka.”

“Hi,” You say, offering your hand to shake. Hisoka grins. 

“Positivly enchanted to meet you.” Hisoka says, and grips your hand in his pale fingers, bringing it up to press a kiss to the top. Illumi glares. You giggle again, as the tips of Hisokas red hair brushes your wrist. Illumi glares harder. After what feels like forever, Hisoka recedes, and Illumi watches your hand fall back into your lap. 

“So, Illumi.” Hisoka says, plopping between the two of you. “You didint tell me you were engaged.”

“In his defense, we just got engageed today.” You say, and Illumi is certain he can spot a blush across your cheeks. He curses Hisoka as you continue. “Are you guys close?”

“No.” Illumi says. HIsoka pouts very fakely.

“How rude.” He says, and illumi digs his finger into Hisokas side as the man leans over, stage whispering into your ear.  “Im his only friend. Hes embarrassed.”

“I see,” You say with a laugh. “How old are you Hisoka?”

“20.” Hisoka says, swiping his hair away from his face. 

“Oh, your older than us, huh.” You say, smiling much to nicely for Illumis liking. You sound like your enjoying yourself, and that makes him feel weird. 

“You must be the same age as Illumi?” Hisoka asks. He continues at your nod. “Your so pretty and socialable, hes lucky..”

You laugh. Hisoka winks. Illumi jabs a second finger into Hisoka’s side.

“Thanks, your handsome too.” You say. “And very funny. Both of you are.”

Illumi digs a third finger into Hisoka’s side, but it only seems to egg him on. He only shoots Illumi a gleeful grin, then turns back to you.

“Why thank you, dear—”

“Im going to talk to him alone for a moment.” Illumi interrupts him, yaking him by his hair and dragging him away.

“Alright.” You say, waving them away with a smile.

Hisoka blows you a kiss, and Illumi yanks his hair harder, dragging him around a nearby bookcase, and release the hair like it had burned him. Hisoka is grinning from ear to ear.

“You jealous.” He says

“No!” Illumi shouts, then looks around frantically, before shaking his head. “No.” He repeats more calmly.

“Dont be embarrassed,” Hisoka says, leaning against the bookcase. “Its only natural to be jealous of me after all.” 

He runs a hand through his hair with a grin. Illumi fake gags. 

“Im not jealous.” Illumi says, doing his best to maintain his eaven tone.

“Oh really” Hisoki says, raising an eyebrow into his hairline. “Can i kiss her then?”

Illumi knows it bait. Hisoka is only doing this to annoy him, or taunt him. He always does shit like this. But he still feels all wierd. Illumi takes a deep breath.

“I dont care.” He says, putting on his best performance. “I dont even like her.”

“Oh yeah?” Hisoka asks, folding his arms. “You dont think shes pretty?”

“She’s unremarkable.” Illumi suplies, Hisoka doesnt look like he believes him, so he tries his best. “In everything, from looks to talents, she seems unfit to marry into this family!”

Hisoka’s eyebrow creeps higher and higher, but Illumi maintains his blank stair until he with a sigh. Theres silence for a moment, until Hisoka pushes off the bookcase, 

“If you really dont mind, i think i will kiss her.” He says, walking back the way they came. 

Illumi moves suddenly, grabbing Hisokas arm in a death grip. Hisoka turns around with a smirk, and sudcenly, Illumi understands hes been got.

“So you do li—”

“Shut up.” Illumi grinds out. “Dont tell.”

Hisoka grins. “Sure.”

♡♡♡

You never were friendly with him after that. You had vanished when he and Hisoka had returned, and you were cold and standoffish in the times he saw you, both before the wedding and in the two years that had passed after it. Illumi didint mind. Not a bit.

His chest feels a bit weird. Illumi brings his hand up, feeling above his heart. Maybe he was injured on todays mission.

He should check that out when he gets back to his quarters. Illumi walks down the long hallway, pausing for a split second in front of the only other door. Your door. You wouldnt want to see him. Still Illumi feels the urge to open your door, go in and see what you were doing. You were probably getting ready for bed. Illumi should just go to his room. With a huff of breath Illumi continues down the hallway and closes his door behin him. His chest is hurting more. He shrugs of his top, pocking at the skin over his heart. Oddly enough, theres no wound, only a few minor cuts on his side and abs. 

“Illumi? I need to speake with you.” He hears your voice, coming from the connecting door between your room and his. His heart suddenly feels better.

“Come in.” He says. You enter, closing the door behind you with a creak. The hinges must be rusted. Your eyes skan him up and down taking in his half naked state.

“Why are you shirtless.” You say. Your ears are red, you must be hot.

Illumi gestures at his chest. “Injuries. What did you need to speak with me about?”

You ignore the first part, moving forward with worry. “Your injured?” You say, looking around the room. “Wheres your first aid kit. Ill help.”

“Theres no need.” Illumi protests. 

You glare. “Am i that incompetent? Just let me do it.” you say, hands on your hips. Your wearing some satin nightgown thing. Its black, and the silky fabric stops high up on your thighs, fluttering distractingly. The fabric draws his eyes to the unbleamashed skin of your thighs. 

You tap your foot on the floor. “First aid box?”

“In the bedside drawer.” Illumi settles back onto the bed with a sigh, you march over, first aid box in your vengeful hands and plop it down onto the bed. Rummaging through it, you find some alcohol and dab it onto a cotton pad. Illumi feels your breath on his skin as you bed over, disinfecting his first wound. He feels weird.

“You wanted to talk to me?” He prompts, ignoring the strange feelings in his gut. The silk of your nightgown slips a little, a black strap sliding down one sholder. You move it back up. Illumi moves his eyes from the movement. 

“Oh yeah,” You say, gentle hands placing a bandaid on his wound. “I had tea with Kikyo this afternoon.”

Illumi frowns. Kikyo loves you, and always makes sure to assure him hes lucky to have you. Whenever the two of you have tea, its sure to prelude an angry summon and admonishment. His mother believed he wasnt working hard enough on your relationship. Illumi knew you would prefer he just leave you alone. His mother always rambled on about how you were hurt, and he was a fool. Illumi was not a fool.

“Fun.” Illumi says. You move to disinfect another wound.  “How is she.”

“Good. She wants grandchildren.” You say. Your neck is also red. Illumi coughs.

“Are you hot?” Illumi asks. You frown in confusion.

“No?” You say. You look up, and Illumi watches the lace slide across the top of your boobs. He digs a hand into his thigh, trying to mute the arousal starting to creep through his body. He deosnt know much of sexual activity, but he certainly knoews this feeling. 

“Ok.” Illumi says. You put one of his brothers discarded little mermaid bandaids on the cut under his left pec. He shivers involuntarily when your nails scrape his skin. “I can get grandchildren.”

You jerck up, a shocked expression on your face. “What?” Your face is flushed, the cotton pad dangling close to falling from your hand. He feels himself swell up, body heating with the things he had implied, and prays you dont notice. Illumi frowns his, heat gathering in his face. 

“I can go steal some.” He explains, “Hisoka meantoned a friend of his who—”

“No Illumi.” You say, laughing a little. Illumi is proud he made you laugh. You move back towards him with the cotton pad as you continue. “How is Hisoka doing?”

“Fine.” Illumi says. He feels all grumply all of a sudden, and his heart is hurting again. “Hes fighting at Heavens Arena appearently.”

“That sounds perfect for him.” You say with another chuckle. Illumi feels his fingers dig into his palm, and relaxes them slowly. The arousal, which had faded slightly at Hisoka’s name, comes back in full force as your hands return and you lean down. Illumi gets and eyefull of your boobs, cupped in a plane black braw under the black lace. He looks up abruptly, begging you dont notice. You would probably never talk to him again if he made his arousal obvious. Thankfully your too busy tending to his wounds to notice.

“Anyway, Kikyo gave me something to give to you.” You say, your hand pressing a third bandaid, this one of lego batman, onto his abs. You smooth over it, hands lingering for what feels like hours on his abs. Illumi resists the urge to grab your wrists and guid them a few inches lower, to the part of him that really, really wants it. You sigh, pulling back

“There, all done.” You say.

Illumi feels both let down and relieved as you pull away, as your scent fades away with your body. Suddenly, you’re jerked to a stop.

“Illumi?” You say, glaring down pointedly. For a moment, Illumi fears you’ve discovered his obvious arousal. You’ll probably look at him in disgust or worse, storm from the room and nevver talk to him again. Illumi follows your eyes, and finds his hand has reached out to grab your wrist. He lets it go.

“What did you have to give to me?” he asks, pulling the offending hand back into his lap, trying to subtly cover any hints of his arousal.

“Oh right,” You say. “I forgot it in my room.” 

You move through the door again, and Illumi finds his eyes drawn to the sway of satin over your ass. He curses his eyes, and takes a moment to at least try to banish all signs of arousal before you retur n. 

“Here,” You say. In your hand is a vhs tape. “She said you should watch it.”

Illumi takes the tape and drops it thoughtlessly onto the bed beside him. You turn, moving back towards the door. Illumi feels the odd urge not to let you leave. Its probably the arousal talking.

“Wait.” He says impulsive. Your turn.

“Yes?” You ask, tapping a foot on the floor. “What else?”

Illumi frowns helplessly. He feels the strongest urge to keep you here with him. But your glaring at him, and he cant come up with an excuse to stop you from leaving. So he lets you go.

“Nothing.” 

The door slams behind you and his eyes sink to the Vhs tape beside him. Its obviously old, the label worn with age. It says ‘instructional tape,’. Gingerly, Illumi sets the vhs tape on his coffee table, and with sweaty hands, and arousal pumping through his body, goes to change for bed.

♡♡♡

 Your tyring to walk away from him again. Desperation fuiling his fingertips, Illumi reaches for you. If you leave now, through the black hole of a door between your rooms, he knoes he’ll never see you again. Illumi feels his fingers close around your thin wrists, jerking you to a stop. You turn, looking down at the hand wrapped around your wrist.

“What do you want, Illumi?” You ask. The black fabric of your nightgown highlights your skin, and you look so beautiful under the lowlight. Illumi finds himself taking a deep breath.

“Mother wants grandchildren.” He says, voice stilted. You nod, as he continues. “So, we should maker her some.”

You stare at him for a moment, before yanking your arm from his wrists. Illumi almost begs you to stay. You cant go, you cant reject him like this. He doesnt know if he’ll ever recover. But instead of rejecting him, you bring your hand up, tipping the strap of your night gown down your shoulder. Illumi watches as the black fabric slinks down your body, hugging your every curve as it slides down until it falls off your hips and hits the floor without a sound. Your left clothed only in your simple black bra and matching panties. Illumi feels his dick swelling with exitement in his pants as he reaches out, hands shaking to grip your waist delicately. He feels as if you might break if he grips to hard, or you might leave if he holds you too soft. You smile at him.

“I thought you’d never agree.” You say, a vision before him. Illumi feels the urge to comfort you. Gingerly, stifly, he pulls you into a hug. Your body is so much warmer than his, your temperature leaking off your skin and sinking into his own. He can smell your scent to clearly he almosts tastes it. 

“Ill do whatever you want.” Illumi says truthfully, and before the embarrassment sinks in, he pulls back enough to press a kiss to your lips.

Illumi has only ever kissed one girl. Ounce. On a dare from Hisoka. When he was thirteen. So its safe to say he doesnt have the most experience. He can tell you dont either, but that fine. You’ll figure it out together. The first press of lips is simple, just your lips colliding softly. And then the little knowledge Illumi had read begins to kick in and he moves his lips against yours. You smile against him, hands gripping his muscled shoulders as he winds his own arms around your bare waist. Your skin is so hot, hot like your breath as it collides hits his lips when the two of you pull back. 

You step backwards drawing him forward until your bug hits the bed and the two of you tumble onto it with a thud. You giggle a little, and move back in for another kiss. He can feel his body reacting to your touch, to your kiss, and as you girp his bare shoulders, he bites back a groan. He wants you so bad, he practically achs for it. 

You pull away from his lips, reaching around your back to undo the strange clasp that holds your braw together. Illumi watches in awe as you tosse it to the side, followed by your underwhere. 

“Look Illumi,” You say, grabbing his hand and tracing it down. Down your chest, through the valley of your boobs. Down your abdomen and navel and through the hair below to find something. Illumi watches in fascination as you press his fingers into a wet heat. “I want you so bad.”

Your back arches off the bed, body curving with what seams like pleasure as a small sigh escapes from your lips. Illumi feels himself twitch.

“Can i put it in?” He says, somehow sounding even more emotionless than usual. You nod, letting go of his wrist to bring your own hands to his crotch, pawing at the bulge in his pants. Illumi fights down another groan, shedding his pants and quickly as possible. Your lying on your back when he gets back, your legs propped up, and grinning. Illumi carefully grips himself, and concentrates on finding the prize you had shown him before. The wet heat is easy to find again, and Illumi carefully lines himself up before pressing himself inside.

Your mouth opens in a moan of his name, and Illumi almost lets go as he feels what must be heaven for the first time. He goes as slowly as possible, as your hands scrabble, gripping his wrists, the sheets beneath you, the nipple of your boobs until hes fully sinside of you, body between your spread legs, hands digging into the comforter on either side of you.

Strands of hair are caught in the sweat of his back, while others tumble down to brush your boobs. Illumi lets out a small groan. 

“Move,” You say. You must see his look of confusion, because you grin up through eyes hazy with arousal. “Grab my waist and thrust in and out.”

Illumi obeys, watching as your back arches, and your eys close in what must be pleasure. Its addictive to watch you, his eyes darting back and forth between your face and the places where your bodies connect. The world around him is hazy, your the focus. You always have been. The pleasure in his body is building. He feels like a chord is wrapping nots in his gut, and its going to snap. As if to match him, you grip his wrists.

“Almost there baby.” You moan. Illumi’s hips stutter as you continue. “Kiss me.”

Illumi feels himself close to loosing control, and with the last bit of his sanity, bends down to kiss your lips—

He wakes up tangled in his sheets, with the words ‘I love you’ on his lips and a wet spot staining his pants. 

After a cold shower and a long thought, Illumi decides that maybe its time to woo his wife. He sets off down the hall with his usual blank expression, but fi you looked close, there was a small bounce in his step.

.......

Endnotes: yaya first day done! btw i think the fanfic writer curse got me too, a bunch of person stuff was happening and i was already upset and i was preparing for kinktober...

and then BAM!!!

my grandma died!!!

btw if stuff is a little late thats why, cause im also sewing the dress im gonna wear, because she used to sew(im actually using her old machine)

anway, enjoy your smut dosage!!

[holllandtrash]

the man | lando norris (6 to 1) smau

part of the lover x 6 to 1 series | lando norris x leclerc! reader

and I'm so sick of them coming at me again 'cause if I was a man then I'd be the man

takes place a year after the original story of 6 to 1 i know this one wasn't voted for but it's been sitting in my drafts and i haven't posted in over a month so enjoy

ynleclerc

liked by landonorris, lissiemackintosh and 28,922 others

ynleclerc happy monday drink your greens

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landonorris no thank u

ynleclerc hmm i seem to recall you asking me for the recipe ten minutes ago

yellowmclarens love her but why does she feel the need to post body shots like this

yvonneatthetrack full length shirts exist babe xx

lovely_sainz this is quite literally just an excuse to post pics of herself in a crop top lol

charles_leclerc

liked by scuderiaferrari, joris__trouche and 1,083,223 others

charles_leclerc gym day

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danielricciardo taking lessons from george?

f1emily yeeeeesh thirst trap coming in hottt

sundayscariess its illegal for a man to look this good

ferrari.florals ok 🥵🥵 more of this pls

ynleclerc added to their story

wag.spotting

liked by paddockclubs, norrisupdates and 16,302 others

wag.spotting collection of pics of y/n posted by her friends these last few days

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whatisferrari looking a little too close for comfort with that guy in the first pic

ricciardobaby i KNOW thats not lando laying on her legs in that second pic

golden_norris it's not carlos either...why does she hang out with so many guys lol 81piastries come get your girl landonorris

ynleclerc

liked by landonorris, mlnmarta and 43,881 others

tagged: ysl

ynleclerc devils in the details ♡ thank you ysl

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landonorris paris or london

ynleclerc montreal, im hanging out with lance - he's moved back up my ranking lancestroll oui landonorris 🤔🤔🤔

happyhamilton sorry am i reading the comments right...shes with lance?

karlaformulauno yeah...what...

paddock.updates

liked by wag.updates, landolovers and 8,400 others

tagged: ynleclerc, landonorris

paddock.updates Y/N Leclerc and Lando Norris are no more after Y/N Leclerc has confirmed to be in Montreal with fellow F1 Driver, Lance Stroll

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papayaclub LOL bro not her jumping from lando to carlos to LANCE

wag.updates did not have this on our f1 bingo card

sunshinemick silly szn i guess but i can't say im surprised..

ynleclerc damn news travels fast 💀💀💀

landonorris ohh thats why you're not answering my calls yellowmercedes i can't tell if shes joking but honestly lando deserves better sundayscaries shes got the worst sense of humour if this really is fake, for landos sake i hope they actually are over

ynleclerc

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 61,029 others

ynleclerc weekly recap

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landonorris did you crop out my face in all of these on purpose

ynleclerc its called a soft launch landonorris you can't soft launch after hard launching FOR A YEAR ynleclerc watch me

leclercsrearwing bestie even i know that lando hates fish and im not his girlfriend

ynleclerc i didn't force the sushi down his throat 🫶🏻 liked by landonorris

landonorris added to their story

landonorris

liked by ynleclerc, mclaren and 487,220 others

tagged: tumitravel

landonorris Rollin’ with tumitravel paid parternship

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ynleclerc im gonna borrow that suitcase

landonorris get your own

boxbox if driving doesn't work out he could be an influencer

albonoscats would do anything to see more of lando in his influencer era

haasbeen whatever he's selling i'll buy it

ynleclerc

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 76,205 others

tagged: carlossainz55, landonorris, arthur_leclerc, charles_leclerc

ynleclerc emptying the camera roll 📸 not ready for summer to end

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charles_leclerc Pourquoi publier cela? why did you post that?

ynleclerc désolée 🤭🤭 sorry

jemmaf1 is that CARLOS in that first pic having dinner with her and her friends

ynleclerc carlos hosted the dinner montrealking18 WHY DO YOU KEEP HANGING OUT WITH CARLOS gokartboys asking the important questions ^^

fmkf1grid yes we get it you're close with all the drivers thank you for the reminder

pastriesoscar this photo dump is so pretentious lmao its just look all the drivers in my life and also look how pretty i am

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, ynleclerc and 410,495 others

tagged: carlossainz55, ynleclerc and danielricciardo

landonorris also emptying the camera roll, good idea ynleclerc

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ynleclerc love you

danielricciardo who are those beauties in the last picture

liked by landonorris

givemef1 not lando posting the same pics as y/n 💀

schummyys he really said 'i was at carlos' dinner party too don't worrry'

hornersux wait but that pic of y/n in the window is actually so pretty

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, mclaren and 580,239 others

tagged: ynleclerc

landonorris to the love of my life, you never cease to amaze me. from the way you switch languages mid conversation with me to the way you are always curled up on the couch waiting for me to walk in the door. you are my biggest supporter, my strongest motivator and the reason my days seem brighter. i don't know how i lucked out with you little leclerc, but i promise to love you for the rest of our days

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danielricciardo are you proposing to y/n over instagram?

pierregasly seems like it landonorris just keep scrolling

ynleclerc currently crying on the couch as i wait for you to come home liked by landonorris

summeriturnedf1 he calls her LITTLE LECLERC

happymclarens okay he LOVES her loves her

allgasnobrakes wonder how charles is doing reading this and knowing that lando is planning on marrying his sister

formulaferraris forget charles...lando is the biggest simp in the world for y/n, lets talk about that

a happy ending was deserved

[tofupixel]

I recently started learning to use rpg maker (vx ace!) and as a result have become increasingly interested in pixel art. I hadn't really done pixel work since my teens - I do more digital painting and vector art - so while I'm a little familiar and can do passable editing, there's a lot I don't know.

One thing that's kind of perplexing for me is understanding the differences in style between two creators of pixel art. I studied art history and I'm used to the differences being things like brush stroke length or degree of realism... I feel like I'm lacking in lexicon in this new frontier lol

What nuances of an artist do you think are most important to style in pixel art?

This kind of stuff is not really officially studied (yet) so it's all a bit of opinion from me.

Usually in pixel art the biggest differences in styles are which limitations the artists choose to impose on themselves; colour count, resolution, palette... Or more stylistic choices like hue shifting, anti-aliasing style or no, dithering or no, etc.

I personally think there are a huge variety of styles in pixel art, as it's literally just a medium, and I hope you'll agree by the end 8)

Also (imo) there is some seperation between the styles of art for art's sake, and art for videogames, where things have to be clear and readable to be actually playable.

🎮 Old school games:

Sometimes referred to as something like '8-bit' or '16-bit' (relating to the NES era / SNES era consoles), these artstyles usually follow the rules and limitations of the hardware at the time.

This all falls under retro art, most popular styles include: NES, SNES, GB, GBC, C64

Notable artists: Nickwoz, Sandy Gordon, Franken, Cisco

📚 Old school art:

There were also events called Demoscene (still are), where developers would go to a big convention and share their demos. A lot of pixel art competitions were held here, where artists would draw live.

Generally they used to favour a high realism/semirealism style, with lots of texture/dithering, fairly high resolution (if the hardware allowed for it), and adjacent pixels mostly being different from one another.

There are even older styles than this but they are fairly niche and I'm not that well educated. If interested look into some of the old PCs/consoles.

⭐ Modern pixel art:

Usually using more colours and higher resolution, larger clusters of pixels instead of individual ones. Strong use of art fundamentals.

Artists to look at: Adam Ferguson (yes it is pixel art), Snake, Slym, 6VCR, Yes I do Pixels, Gijotto, SovanJedi, JoeCreates, Franek, @8pxl

the rest below are "modern" pixel artists too but I think they have other things in their style that are a bit different!

🎨 Painterly:

Some artists choose to emulate the natural brushstrokes digitally, and keep their clusters large and loose. Usually don't focus on the minute details as much.

@makrustic, @hexh-pixel, Umbohr, Gawrone

🟦 Dithering

These artists all use dithering / texture in ways that make their styles totally unique.

Deceiver, Night, Reo,

💥 Experimental

These artists are always trying new things and honing in on their unique style.

AJ, hby, @ilta222, Alphons

I could really go on for ever, there are so many different styles, cute pixel art, horror pixel art, 1bit (2 colours only), and then adding animation takes it even further, but I think you get the idea

If you want to learn more, the Masters of Pixel Art books have works /interviews from pixel artists of different eras, including demoscene and contemporary.

😊👍