#get through the shell to the meat

[petermorwood]

Reblogging this one again after agreeing wholeheartedly last time with the impassioned video complaint about armour being represented as ineffective, which it most certainly wasn't (or why bother?)

Also, re. that comment about Game of Thrones showing Mormont's armour working properly in an early ep, and cliché not working in a later one. A show as casual about showing graphic violence could have shown how to defeat an opponent in full plate, though IIRC Mormont wore nothing as complete.

*****

Side-rant: It would have been hard to make out regardless - and still is, the clip's on Youtube - because it happened during that battle scene with the crap minimal light.

I still haven't forgotten what I think was the lighting cameraman responding to criticism of "Too dark to see anything" with "Your TVs Were Badly Tuned". Well, bub, my TV was just fine with the programmes before, the programmes after, and the other scenes in that very GoT episode. The ones that weren't incompetently lit...

*****

So how to discomfit a plate-armoured man? First, use weapons designed to attack the armour, not the man. Impact weapons like maces and warhammers work...

...because bones break, joints separate and brains concuss even without getting through the metal.

Or use polearms such as halberds, bills, etc., again, attacking the armour as much as the man, and at a longer, potentially safer distance.

Though don't bet on that, because a man in well-fitted plate is, after a lifetime of getting used to moving in it, scary fast - and a gauntlet-punch even with no weapon in it will spoil any number of days.

They were often fitted with knuckle-spikes called "gadlings" for that very purpose.

Finally, dog-pile him with several attackers (expect to lose a couple) so that at least one has a chance to use a dagger on unarmoured or weakly armoured places.

Raise the visor then go for eyes, face or throat (didn't someone get a dagger in the eye in another early GoT ep?) Reduce the graphic visuals by keeping the visor down with a blade shoved through one eye-slot, while the actor's response shows that this Was Not Fun.

Go between the legs at the groin (always good for a knee-clench and Oooh! from the male audience) or inner upper thighs, where opened femoral arteries will bleed out in a matter of minutes.

Go through the armpits - they're usually protected by mail, but full body weight behind the upper rondel of one of these...

...should get through, next stop trachea or lungs, aorta or heart.

NB - The ballpoint pen included for scale shows how big medieval daggers were, with many even bigger - which should also make it clear why nobody ate their dinner using one. They had proper small knives for that, also spoons, picks, eventually forks and always fingers (with napkins and finger-bowls to keep them clean).

*****

Why reblog so soon?

Well, it's an articulate bitching session about a stupidity which vexes me, also these tags (though not about armour) made me chuckle and need seen, because they too are oh so right.

#he's right

#what drives me the craziest is unstripped pens and showing people writing on paper and parchment as if it's cheap

#WHERE ARE ALL THE WAX TABLETS

#also incorrect storage of books (eg early medieval type setting but the books are upright in shelves--WRONGO)

#showing monks writing and no penknife to be seen

#incorrectly dressed monks and nuns

[anantaru]

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ where his hands are — love and deepspace

synopsis. where his hands are while doing it

including. zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus, caleb

warnings. fem! reader, tit play, petnames used: sweetheart, baby, pretty, zayne loves your ass, doggy (prone bone), mating press, rough syx

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ zayne + on your ass

as was anticipated, zayne needs you held wide and open for him, his palms sinking into the meat of your ass like he's terrified you'll stop taking him so fucking nicely— his grip truly punishing, spreading you apart until your hole flutters around the root of his cock, your skin flustered and shaking underneath his thumbs.

every single thrust was filth— a grind, with an even rougher drag? a push of his cock so thick and needy your mouth fell open yet no sound came out. not to mention that zayne's obsessed with the way your ass jiggles when he repeatedly slams it, the way you drip from the stretch of him was mouthwatering, leaking down on his balls in repeated warm, messy strings of your arousal.

he greedily spits on it now, watching it gleam for a moment before it vanishes into the wetness he's already made of you, his groan remained rasping, like he's unraveling just from the sight of your body swallowing it down like a good girl, like the mess itself was holy.

"sweetheart, you take it so well," he growls proudly, his voice wrecked with need, every word rasping against your skin akin to torn silk— his teeth skimming the shell of your ear, but not biting, no, just letting you feel the heat of his body bleed through you, the quiet madness clawing at the edges of his breath, "you feel this? all this mess? this ass was made for my hands, baby, made for me to fuck like this."

he presses you down so hard your hips bruise on the bed, one palm spreading you wide, properly holding you in place, the other slapping your ass with a slick, loud crack, then soothing over it like he's sorry for nothing— the man keeps you tilted, spine curved like a bow, so he could hit that spot again and again, until you sob and gush around him.

his thumb was dragging your jaw down until your mouth spills open, slack and senseless with drool dripping in slow, sticky threads from your lips to your chest, fuck, he's in so deep the curve of your spine aches instantly, but it still wasn't enough— go for it, come on, deeper, rougher, messier, all of you, fucked open and destroyed around his cock and his hands, all of you made for him to grab and destroy.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier + on your thighs

xavier spreads you wide like you're something precious and perverse, thighs pulled open with both hands, elbows locked to hold you still while he fucks into your pussy slow and brutal— his fingers squeezing hard enough to leave dents, thumbs grinding circles into the soft inner meat and dragging you open to watch your slick hole grip him tight as he stares in awe, like he's reading your soul straight through your velvety walls clenching down.

the pumping of his cock was steady, pushing back into you with every new rut hitting your spots, his eyes flicking up to your face every time you moan like he wants to memorize the desire in your expression.

"fuck, you're soaked— this tight little thing's crying for me," he whines, voice low and wild, "you like being held open like this, huh? you like how deep i can get when you're spread like a fucking feast?"

he bends your legs back more, more, until your muscles tremble and burn, until your knees were beside your ears and your belly taut and stretched and full of him, his cock hitting angles that made you see stars while he's watching the way you shudder and leak around him, thumbs digging into the hinge of your thighs like you're nothing but a hole to keep him warm and satiated.

xavier's grip flexes with every shove of cock, every gush of arousal spilling down between your ass and coating his lap, watching it slicken your folds even more before pushing in again with a low groan like he's losing his mind inside you.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel + on your tits

rafayel palms your breasts like they're holy objects, his fingers curled above their weight and kneading slow and calculated, like he's shaping clay as he groans every time you squeeze him, cock dragging through your soaked walls and still, his hands remained on your chest— massaging your tits, squeezing them too, adding a lil kiss, yeah? pulling at your nipples until you wince out. 

he drags his thumbs over them again, watching them stiffen under his touch, then leans down to bite and suck and spit warm and wet saliva across your skin until your whole chest was shining of his liquids.

the man pants, licking a trail up to your sternum, dragging hot and slow up the center of your chest, tongue catching every tremble like he's tracing a confession into your skin— wet and utterly depraved, "these tits bounce every time i push in, pretty, you feel how deep i am? all that mess leaking outta you, and i still want more."

he begins to fuck you upwards now, body curved within yours and thrusts angled so every movement drags the swollen head of his cock right along your sweet spot. your tits bounce every time he sinks in and rafayel moans into your skin, hands tightening like he could mold them into something even lewder as he rubs the wet peaks of your nipples with slick-covered fingers, then bites again, watching the way you jolt and cry in joy.

as obvious, he wanted you to feel him everywhere— his cock, his hands, his teeth, his tongue, what else? his warmth, yeah, as the bed creaks under you, repeatedly, slick smeared down your thighs and belly from how hard and deep he fucks you, and still— his hands never left your tits once, like they're his anchor to hold onto, like he's trying to memorize every shake and spill of them under his touch.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus + on your wrists

the moment you move, sylus's mind haywires with your wrists pinned hard to the mattress, his weight over you like a threat, his breath hot and uneven against your jaw as his grip was tight enough to ache, the kind of hold that bruised tomorrow and made your pulse throb beneath his fingers.

it's obvious he liked seeing your hands trapped within his own— adored knowing you cannot stop him, cannot push him away either, cannot beg for mercy without squirming, well, without him wanting to hear you beg at least trice.

"don't you move now," he spits, hips grinding deep until your eyes rolled back, "you feel that? you're clenching so tight, it's like you're trying to keep me there forever," as he fucks you like it's punishment— like worship carved out of violence? yeah, slamming into your slick, weeping heat until your walls fluttered and your stomach contracts from how much he burned through you.

your knuckles turned white with how tightly you curl your fingers into his biceps as his grip tightens, the wet sounds between your thighs getting louder and wetter, each roll of hips a disgusting punch of cock against your insides, yet you cannot do anything— cannot stop it, cannot run from it— just cry out his name beneath him as he fucks and fucks and tears you open, then lovingly holds your wrists like he's fixing himself to sanity.

sylus heaves like a wild animal in your ear and every time you jerk your hips upwards to wiggle against him, his fingers flex tighter, dragging your arms above your head, thrusts so cruel and searing like he doesn't know how to stop, even when you're all tears stricken, even when you break at last— he won't let you go, simply, he can't, not when your pussy was wrapped so sweet and swollen around him.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb + on your head

caleb doesn't let you look away, not once, with his hand pressed behind your own, squeezing your face into the pillows, fingers cradling your skull like he's kneeling before something divine, keeping you close so he could spill his moans directly into your mouth, the press of his palm tender yet firm, like he wanted to hold your whole brain together while he pounds you apart.

he kisses you like he's dying, like he needed your spit to live— tongue messy and slick, panting into your mouth with every thrust that rocks you up the bed as he kept whispering— candid n broken n filthy things between kisses, "you're so beautiful like this," his voice shatters, lust catching on the wreckage of pleasure as your walls seize tight around him, dragging a noise from his throat that sounds more like unravel than power, like he's being wrung dry from the inside out, "fuck, baby, you're so fucking tight, so good, don't let go— just let me feel you."

his hips jerk forward again as your back arches off the mattress from how deep it was, from how perfectly his cock pinches inside you like it's following a specific path carved just for him— at this, you could barely catch a breather, like caleb made flowers grow in your lungs and although they felt beautiful, otherworldly, you just couldn't breathe anymore.

his cock pulses with every repeated squeeze of your cunt around him as his thick cock shines where you're joined— slick gushing out every time he pushes in, guzzling it back when he snaps forward and still, his hand cups your head like a frail object, holding you steady as if your body could shatter from the sheer pleasure.

the man kept you close like you're his oxygen, his life, he moves like a man possessed with a rhythm doused in solace, like each thrust was an apology he didn't know how to voice out loud— his whines lost, eyes glassy and teeth clenched against the sob lodged in his chest.

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[nanamiskentos]

★ 🐚 🫧 GONNA' MATCH MY FREAK? jujutsu kaisen. 呪術廻戦.

prologue ⋆ ★ getting down and nasty with some fine men? yes, please.

pairings ⋆ ★ sukuna, toji, geto, hajime, choso, gojo genre tags & warnings ⋆ ★ afab/she+her!reader, making it fít, trueform!sukuna, against a wall, créampíe, bréeding, ríding, temple séx, mild mention of smoking (geto), unintentional public séx, óral (f), inappropriate use of jujutsu (electricity), backshóts, mentions of voyéurísm

word count ⋆ ★ 5.1k a/n ⋆ ★ going thru it 😝 was gonna add noritoshi kamo because he's my #bias #ult but i wasn't sure how to write him yet...

RYOMEN SUKUNA ៹ the king of curses

"now yer' just being stubborn," the blush-haired demon is grousing, dark nails clawing at the bare juncture of your hip, as though he's trying not to let his gaze leer downwards. to linger where your bare cunt is straddling over both his tattooed cocks. hefty, and weighty against the meat of your thigh.

"i can take them, 'kuna, know i can," and it's got sukuna sighing at your stubborn nature, as though he's not already being plagued by the most delightful visions of you swaying those delightfuls hips as both his tips swab at your entrance. oouh, tempting, tempting indeed.

you're already getting ahead of yourself, positioning your leaking folds over the first cock, the one stacked on top of the other, letting the fat tip snag at your gummy walls, and fuck, sukuna genuinely fears he may just be in love when you give him those insufferable, pleading doe eyes, "can y'help me fit them in, 'kuna?"

oh, can he ever. sukuna's ducking his face into the crook of your neck, nipping at the shell of your ear, so you can't see the warm flush painting his cheeks, hands heavy on your waist as he gently props you up, two arms wrapped in coils around your torso, and two softly positioned underneath your shaking thighs.

slowly, carefully, lowering you down. angling you just right, so your cunt eagerly begins to swallow him up. slick already drooling and painting treacly strands over his cock, trickling down to the base of thick, curled pink hair that gathers at his groin.

"haahh," you're sighing, lips parting in a way that makes sukuna feel like someone just hit him with a shovel, dumbfounded at the sight of you, only you, "bigger than i thought, 'kuna."

and the king of curses won't admit in, no, he's loathe to lower himself thus, but his heart (and his cocks) only swell at the praise, the knowledge that you're still just so eager to take him, to ride him on his throne, his kimono opened bare across your pretty form so he can lave sharp, stinging kisses over your chest.

"t-taking it so well," sukuna bites out, doing his best to fight the crack in his gruff tone, for the sake of his dignity. or at least, that's what he tells himself, never mind at how he feels lightheaded from the way your cunt is almost kissing the base of his cocks now, and the sound is absolutely filthy, echoing through out the empty hall. all damp sloshes of pre that's leaving smears over your innermost walls.

he has to focus over the buzzing in his ears to catch your sweet words, a hand coming to rest on the back of your head, tilting you closer to him, "mhm, yer' sayin' something?"

you're nodding, breathless and hazy, steadying yourself now in his lap, groping at the little divot that's already formed where his tip(s) now lie, "does it feel g-good for you?"

sukuna stares at you, half-clouded with the tight heat of your pretty, swollen pussy swallowing him up, "what?"

you're pawing at his chest, nails digging into hardened skin, grazing over dark tattoos that have lasted a millennia, "wanna know if 'm making y-you feel good, 'kuna."

oh, he's in love with you. ryomen sukuna is absolutely, foolishly, pathetically head-over-heels for you. his pretty, little woman that's balanced on his hips, rocking yourself back and forth to feel that glorious friction against your sweet spot.

ugh, fine. just this once. dignity be damned, for he's got you.

a large hand cups your jaw, resting against the curve of your neck, as crimson eyes bore into you, "you are what i want, brat," and sukuna means it, planting a heavy kiss against your lips, "just you, just like this. couldn't be b-better."

"you're getting soft." gentle, teasing as you watch watercolour flush paint pretty pink over sukuna's handsome features. for someone who fancies themselves a rather stoic king of curses, a fearsome sorcerer that can command life and death, he does a poor job of hiding how just how much you undo him.

a low grumble erupts from sukuna, gripping at your hips, pulling you closer to him in a way that you feel his cocks jostle within you, brushing against that sweet, sweet spot, "careful, there. don't wanna' break m'favourite human." yeah, you know that idle threats means that you've really got him blushing.

TOJI FUSHIGURO ៹ the sorcerer killer

"heh, thought you said we were gon' get on the job," toji's guffawing even, but that smug expression quickly flitters away when your wandering, wanting hands are feeling him up. gripping at his pectoral muscles that strain against his black, tight top.

"we are on the job," you fiercely gasp against his mouth, feeling that rough scar twitch against your skin, "jus' need you, that's all."

you can see stone-green eyes flick upwards, heightened senses scanning for any intruders, any unwanted peepers to this show that he's about to put on, before kicking the rusted, weathered steel door closed. sealing you in this storage closet with him.

"so," toji simpers, and you know better than to trust the faux-concern on the assassin's face, "what does she need help with?" large hands patting at the clothed juncture of your thighs, running up the thick band of your holster, "couldn't even wait till we shot the damn' bastard, and took home a niceee paycheck."

you push at him, arms using as much as force as you can muster but it does very little to move this solid block of a man. but toji's clearly humouring you, letting you shove him against the reinforced, but worn-out walls, "how 'bout i give you an advance for the job?"

toji's wrapping a muscled arm around your waist, pulling you closer so he's nudging against your lips, "hah, a little taste then?" tugging at the waistband of your pants, "don't mind if i do."

and before you can even take a second to blink, he's whirling the two of you around. balancing you with inhuman levels of strength against the wall, so your ankles dangle in the air. quickly hooking against his waist, while toji thumbs at your underwear, eager to slide any remaining fabric away.

"stay focused now," toji murmurs, "got a big stretch for ya', heh."

and fuck, he wasn't exaggerating. you've never gotten used to it, the way his thick, girthy shaft melds into you, swabbing at the swollen, dripping walls that toji loves to call home. you're not sure if you're losing your mind, but you swear, you truly swear that you can feel the pulse of that one, angry vein that runs along the underside of his cock (yeah, you're pretty familiar).

"ngh –" you babble, "s-so big, fuck," your mind's gone entirely blank, grasping for the right word to encompass just how enrapturing toji's cock is, "so deep."

toji seems to like that, cheeks flushing the most adorable shade of peach and pink that he seems desperate to hide and deny, "y-yeah? deep in ya'?" he's rustling you in his hold, eager to hit bullseye on your cervix, to see you rolling your eyes to back of your head as you take him.

and if toji tears his gaze downwards, he can see your puffy folds parted, inches stuffed into your cunt. painting such a pretty sight that if toji were a less jealous, lecherous man, he'd hire a photographer to come capture the sinful view. hmm, maybe the new paycheck can go to a camera? oh, yeah, he's havin' ideas.

"t-toji –" you mewl, hands grasping at the firm curve of his pectorals, defined and taut underneath the fabric that stretched across his chest, "that's it, hah, jus' what i needed."

"mhm?" toji chuckles against the shell of your ear, "got so fucked out on the job, needed me to come take care of you like t-this?" he can feel your legs trembling in his hold, turning to mush and quivering, as he batters hit after hit against your mound. he shifts, readjusting himself for the right angle so...

plap! each smack of his heavy, laden sack rings throughout the abandoned storage room of this fuck-ass hideout, repurposed for something far more pleasurable. brows furrowed, sweat dripping down tanned skin as toji squeezes his eyes shut, feels every cell in his body unravelling (or well, something like that, he's not a scientist) as your tight cunt swallows him up, takes him apart.

"hnngh, fuck, girl, look what you're doin' to me," toji gasps, rocketing his hips to dig as deep as possible, cock twitching and practically sending s.o.s signals despite this being the first round of many.

he knows he's close, knows that tell-tale tightening in his groin will only lead to him shooting ropes out, so he pulls you in for a filthy, clashing kiss, "where do ya' want it? gon' have to tell me quick, – dunno' how long i can –"

"inside," you murmur, sounding as breathless as toji fushiguro feels, legs deliciously arched against his back, "want it inside, toji." whimpering the most beautiful, sweet groans against his ear.

toji wishes he was a stronger man, he truly does. wishes that he had some restraint, and sense but the very second your mouth parted to form those syllables, he felt the world go blank. ropes upon ropes of thick, cloying seed stuttering out of him, making the assassin feel off-kilter, "think it took, doll?" toji scoops some of the creamy release against your sloppy cunt, "or wanna' try one more time? or two?"

GETO SUGURU ៹ the worst curse user

"eyes on me, pretty," geto's panting, glossed lips parting, and you can see just how affected he is, that soft tremble of his mouth giving away the cracks in his composure.

but are you shocked? well, nah. you've learnt there are several ways to undo geto suguru, to unravel him until he's a trembling mess and your favourite way is to plant your hands on his bare chest, and rock your hips until the two of you are seeing stars.

and god, you feel as though your mind is turning to a sludgy mush, a faint whine building up between your ears until you realise that the sound is coming from your own parted mouth. geto's got a hell of a package down there, and he sure knows how to use it. every tilt of your pitching hips has his fat tip swabbing smears of silky pre against your inner walls, "mhm – feels s-so good, sugu', fuck!"

it's quite a sight, this you know. you had managed to paw off a decent swathe of geto's thick robes, still stained with a splash red that you're not eager to identify. pooling the silk on the cool tiles underneath the broad man. the taper of his broad, solid thighs keeps you well balanced as you crinkle your nose, plucking the lit stub from geto's smoky mouth. tossing it onto the tiles of the temple, so the flame patters out in the stained, warm glow of this sanctuary.

"hey, i was enjoyin' that," geto glowers, violet eyes subdued into a mauve, lustful haze, and you dig the very tips of your nails into the meat of his shoulders, opting for a harsher, sharper angle to slap skin against skin.

"enjoy this, instead," your eyes roll and fall to the back of your head as geto's grip on your hips tighten, almost bruising in the most delicious way possible. but a large, calloused hand travels further along, coming up to cup the underside of your tits, tweaking and pinching appreciatively. predictable, like an ant to some honey.

"heh, q-quite a sight," geto purrs, watching how your captivating form writhes and shakes. knowing that it's solely due to his thick shaft working inches into you, hitting spots that you weren't even aware of, "always so perfect for me, pretty."

you lean down, capturing his waiting lips in a sloppy, heavy kiss. a clash of your eager tongue against his, teeth sinking into plush lips. geto seems to been hit with a spark of some new idea, for he's suddenly pushing you back, murmuring a gentler kiss against your lips as an apology.

manoeuvring his broad frame so he's sitting up now, with you still balanced in his lap. the change in the nasty angle is so prominent, for his cock feels deeper than ever before. each thick vein scraping and pulsing against the walls of your swollen cunt, leaving no surface unclaimed.

"s-suguru, 'm there, right –" the sentence leaves you, mouth parting in a wordless, mindless oh! for the fat, creaming tip of his cock must have brushed past that delicious patch, that g-spot, and it has you trembling, climax washing over you in the most, delicious pulsing waves.

but geto suguru never lets up, never lets his best girl off the hook that easy. he doesn't stop bucking muscular hips up into you, sticky skin slapping over and over again in an addled cacophony of pleasure, determined to have you fall apart all over again. and he needs it to be asap.

"g-gorgeous, heh," he's tapping fingers against your cheek, pushing and pulling at your mouth, "what did i say about wanderin' eyes? keep them on me, love. need ya' to be lookin' at me when i split you apart."

"fuck, 'm feelin' –" you almost sob from the pleasure, crystalline tears pooling at your lashes from the sheer overstimulation. geto's cock absolutely heavy and weighty in you, kissing at your walls, and pecking your most sensitive spot.

"yeah, yeah, i k-know," geto gasps, feeling his own orgasm knocking on the door, thin strands of wispy cum already beginning to shoot out, but he's determined. a man on a mission, so a wide hand reaches in between the tight space, slapping sloppy circles against your sensitive clit in a way that has you sinking teeth into the side of his thick neck.

he's looking at you expectantly, like he knows exactly what's arriving. and when. long fingers twirling at your sloshy cunt, flicking over your throbbing clit, "three," he murmurs, "two..."

"and one –" geto's climax hits him at the exact same time, the hypnotising pulse of your pussy practically sucking any restraint out of him. translucent ropes of cream and ivory pumping into you, until you can only lay limp and boneless in his arms, with him still sprawled against the floor of the temple and...oh.

"suguru, baby?"

"hah, yeah," oouh, geto sounds ruined. his voice a rock-salt rasp, still quivering from the earth-shaking climax.

"did we leave the temple door open? and aren't all your guests meant to be arriving today?"

HAJIME KASHIMO ៹ the god of lightning

"tch', thought you said you weren't gonna move, silly girl."

hajime's been going at it for hours, now. well, you can't truly be sure for the world has become slow and hazy, but it certainly feels like an eternal passage of time, rife with that familiar, cloying buildup of pleasure shaking your abdomen.

you're whining, glossy and reddened lips being gnawed and worried into, aching fingers curling into loose strands of cyan hair that's come loose from the knots that hajime seems to favour, "i k-know. but it's –" you squeal when sharp fangs bite at the inner flesh of your thighs, "it's so much, and i've already –"

the sorcerer fixes you with that piercing stare of his, that disconcerting gaze of jewel-cerulean that is a direct shade match with his soft hair, "you've what? finished already? twice? thrice?" the man's getting cocky, you murkily wonder, scraping the tip of his tongue against your throbbing clit, "that's the point. but 'm waiting for something else, y'see."

you can only what else he could possibly want from you, for hajime's got you splayed out for him. bare thighs spread across the edge of the clean bed, the heat of your cunt sensitive even to the cool chill of the air, as he continues to kneel in between your legs. humming, murmuring, as he toys with your slick, sweet folds.

but you know one thing for certain, hajime is a man who will never accept defeat. he's competitive as fuck, and he shows it in all aspects, but especially when it comes to pleasuring you.

"look at you," hajime's cooing, pink mouth blooming a vivid magenta, painted a mirror sheen of your arousal, "jus' falling apart from my mouth? already?"

turquoise hair bunched around hajime's shoulders, falling over his white robes in thick, silky swathes, as he wraps his lips right around your sensitive bud, cheeks hollowing to suck. slender, wiry fingers littered with scars trace mindless circles around your entrance, pushing at your gummy walls until he's the one sucking in a breath.

"heh, s-so tight," hajime mutters, bestowing a filthy kiss upon your cunt, all sloppy and so loving, "have half a mind to just fill you up instead, have ya' pressed under me." he seems dazed by the way that you're still taking his fingers so readily, never mind the six orgasms that he's ripped from you already.

and you would be lying if you said you weren't desperate for the thin but lengthy curve of his cock, pressing up against your cervix as he was so prone to doing when he had you in a tight mating press.

"why don'tcha, then, 'jime?" you're mewling, hands moving away from his sea-green hair to paw at the thick padding of his ivory robes, "want y'in me so, so bad." you're all but sobbing, for hajime's delighted with how you're taking a third finger, and he's crooking the digit up. searching, searching for that sweet spot.

"patience, woman," the rough pads of hajime's fingers swirling thick arousal back into every cranny and divot of your walls, "hmm, 'm gonna' try something." he's grinning now, face splitting into an electrifying smile that you are all too familiar with, "just need to relax for me, sweet thing." pulling sodden fingers out of your cunt, ignoring your needy cries at the sudden loss of sensation.

you can practically feel how restless the sorcerer is, bruising the fingertips of his left hand into the fat of your thighs, amused at how they leave gloss-streaked smears over the skin. but the other hand is slowly stroking at your folds, teasing as hajime takes joy in watching your hips buck up continuously, desperate for some stimulation.

and that's when you first feel it. it's a little jolt at first, something stronger and almost harsher than what you're accustomed to. you can't even help the wanton, candied moan that falls from your lips at how the pins-and-needles quickly turns pleasurable, and how hajime's eyes have become aglow, cursed technique ever so delicately ramping up.

"hahh, 'jime," you're not even sure what to say, to cry out and hope that the words are able to form themselves, and not fall out in slurred groans of pleasure, "more, m-more!"

the sensation is warm too, each small spark sets you alight. far more heated than the cool tips of hajime's fingers that you're used to. and you're certain that you can attribute the involuntary twitching of your leg to the small, controlled electricity being channeled through hajime's skin, each pinch at your clit having you arch your back in the most filthy, whoreish of ways.

"aha," hajime angles a finger in you once more, resuming that gentle push-and-pull pace that he's kept for hours, so the messy pop! rings in your ears each time that he glides away and bottoms his fingers out once more, "i think 'm getting the hang of this, wouldn't ya' say?"

you must look absolutely out of it right now, for hajime's cursed technique is running jolts and buzzes through you in such a way that you know jujutsu was never intended to be used for. tongue falling out of your mouth, whining, as you squeeze your eyes shut. feeling the pace pick up, and hajime's fingers hit bullseye when they brush that spot.

"there, there, t-there, 'm gonna –"

you faintly catch the satisfied, thrilled look on hajime's face when you climax, spraying all over his chin. droplets of clear release that he's eagerly digging into to lap up, hah, you know he's glad to have achieved a victory like this, exhilarated just from achieving your pleasure. tongue sloppy as it works you through a mind-numbing orgasm, slick dripping over his faintly-tanned chin.

"see, i knew y'had it in you," hajime's standing up now, and you bite back a bratty comment about how a four-hundred year old sorcerer was able to stay on his knees for so long, gulping as you see him reach for the loose ties on his martial pants, "and i wanna' see something else now."

CHOSO KAMO ៹ the death painting

"are you sure, my love?" you've barely even touched him, and choso already sounds ruined, tremors wracking his sensitive form. he's beautiful like this, broad-shouldered and thick with hardened muscle. a dark curtain of inky, clingy hair falling around his face as he looks down at you, from where he's hovering with his beefy arms on either side.

"i'm sure, cho," you whimper, inching your legs up to wrap around his waist, pulling him in and closer to where your hot, glossy folds are practically begging for his touch. or rather, for his cock — all his glorious inches that beam an angry, sensitive shade of scarlet.

choso brushes his nose against yours, as intimate as he always is, "jus' don't wanna' hurt you," thick tip snagging against the very entrance of your glistening, winking hole, "tell me if it's too much."

"i will, oh, i –" the air is punctured from your lungs, like your very breath has been stolen away from you in the most searing kiss. that first, initial stretch of choso's cock in you is nothing short of delicious and eye-opening. he's always like this, so intoxicating and sweet, and mindful of how the body of a human may differ to that of a half-curse such as himself, so he's running a thick hand against your abdomen, soothing as he bullies another inch into you.

"not too much, love?" choso gasps out, spellbound by your tight, loving grip, and he thinks he's already lost his mind, hand kneading at the sudden divot that's formed under your skin, from where his cock is settling.

"mhm, mm!" you shake your head, unable to speak from the instant swipe of his cock against your sweet spot already, determined not to wantonly start moaning and gasping in his ear before he's already bottomed out.

choso's worried thumb comes up to swipe at your lower lip, pressing into the kiss-stricken flesh, "hey, i like hearing you. always sound so pretty." pressing his lips to your mouth again, as though he could stay there forever. like this, with you. in you.

"ahh, cho, 's good, really," and you're telling the truth, for his thick cock is rendering you senseless, and so in love. nails lightly clawing at his peach-toned skin, certainly leaving small, crescent marks that you know will make choso flush later. raking your nails down as choso finally, finally bottoms out with a pop!

the sound of skin slapping and sliding against skin makes you flush, your arousal practically drooling out of swollen folds, as thin strands delicately balance between your hips before snapping into creamy puddles, creating an absolute mess underneath you.

"it's like i can feel all of you," choso groans, silky ends of his dark hair tickling your cheek, "and yer' so, so pretty," he's gnawing at his lips, blood-hued, fucking you absolutely stupid on his endowed cock. hitting you with solidified rams against that rough, sensitive spot, drawing senseless, pleasured sounds of your gaping mouth.

choso's weaving his hand in between the two of you, determined to reach for your glistening, throbbing clit. to run sloppy, mindless shapes over the bud that make the most filthy sounds, that soft and pulling sound of your translucent slick sloshing over choso's broad hand.

"you gotta' finish," choso heaves, hauling you a little closer to him, so he can do his very best to draw circles around your clit, despite the slick making it nigh impossible for his fingers to stay on course, "gotta' see you fall apart f'me."

and what a glorious sight for choso's eyes, to see how your lips moisten and part. eyes tight and shut, brows drawn together like a bow releasing a quiver of arrows, he thinks he'd be content to stay like this forever. to have your body tremble underneath him, orgasm painting over you in the most gentle shade possible, hips bucking further into him.

"wait," choso looks almost sheepish now, ears a glowing shade of berry-red, kissing away the last tremours of your climax, "can i turn you around? wanna' see how you look from the back."

GOJO SATORU ៹ the strongest

"w-what? here?" gojo groans, but god, he's never one to complain. hard for him to even find one fault in the world when you're straddling his thighs, looking so lustful and dazed above him.

you're nodding, lips pressed into a frown that gojo immediately swipes away with a kiss, "been wantin' you for days, 'toru." hands already pulling aside his haori, digging into the soft bands of his white pants, "always soo busy, everyone's takin' your attention."

oh. you're needy. and gojo's not ashamed to admit that he loves to play into it. loves to see how his pretty wife's brows furrow and lips part when she's desperate for him.

he snickers, looping a muscular thigh in a way that he's able to flip the two of you over. splaying you out on all fours for him, him only. your knees digging into the soft mats in the training rooms that gojo's certain he locked when you dragged him in here.

he's biting at the shell of your ear, rough hand slithering up your top to cup at the fat of your tits, "y'do know that everyone's on me because they wanna' check in about my fight with sukuna." rocking you back against his tight bulge, "and i did say i would face...him before the twenty-fourth."

"you're the s-strongest, – fuck, that's so –" hah, gojo's already a step ahead of you, sheathing both girth and length into your drooling pussy, leaning back to admire the way your swollen folds snatch and eagerly swallow him up, "and you're always trainin', i was getting lonely."

"my, my," gojo purrs, running a large, broad hand down your spine, slamming your hips back into his so the white curls at the base of his cock kiss the heart-shaped juncture of your ass, "if i knew m'wife was this jealous, i'd have brought ya' in to train with me." gojo's figuring that life's kinda short, and he's gotta live a little — revving up six eyes without any shame, desperate to see the curve of his cock drill home into your tight cunt.

you squeal when he rams his thick, rosy-toned tip deep into your sticky, slimy walls. and for each squelch! when he pulls out, there's a coating of gloss that drips from his cock, entrancing the white-haired man, "well, we're kinda' training now, s-satoru."

"heh, you're right, wifey," gojo decides to take it all the way, looming his frame over you so the tight weave of his dark tee presses against your back, his chest firm enough against you that it bows your back down in the most pleasurable arch, rummaging his cock all over, "see, what would i do without ya'?"

if you crack open bleary, hazy eyes, you can make out the cracks and fissures that run deep in the walls here, plaster splitting apart to reveal brick underneath. wondering, vaguely, whether it was the force of gojo's cursed technique tearing apart the foundations of this building. but it doesn't make you shudder, no, what truly makes you quake is the smack! of gojo's palm against the fat of your ass, and his thick, muffled groan against your ear.

"can't believe i've been neglecting ya', sweets," gojo whines, churning at your pussy in determined rolls of his hips, "and her, too, of course." he's got you bent at such a determined angle, that you're not sure whether you can muster the energy to even tilt your head back. but you certain that the hot drops that quickly cool upon your shoulder are leaking from his stormy eyes, prickling at his long-white lashes. gojo's always been so sensitive during sex, always so easily riled up and undone.

he doesn't let up on the place, continuing to smack the fat head of his cock against your cervix, as though he's desperate to not miss the right spot to spill thick wads of buttery release, and you know that gojo won't, not with those superhuman, heightened senses of his.

"close? close? is m'wife –" gojo hoarsely rasps, "are ya' close? because i think 'm gonna pass out, ouh, yeah. snatching me way too good, heh, been missing out on this training," already pussydrunk and babbling as he tends to do, running his mouth at the same pace at which he's slamming his cock into you, "you know i lo –"

gojo's never one to withstand a rude interruption, not even when its his own orgasm snatching the words out of his mouth, so even as steaming, slick strands of his climax pump themselves into you, he's mouthing and kissing at your neck, gently pulling you up from all fours to balance your arms wide, splaying your thighs wide apart — all while he's still filling you up, "love you, love you so much, i fuckin' love you."

[shotmrmiller]

kinktober: cockwarming (john price x reader x simon in underground fighter au)

You're no fan of real-time violence.

Movies can never replicate its visceral reality— the sharp metallic tang that clings to the air, mingled with salt and the bitter stench of the swill these local colors call beer. Even worse is having to be the one to patch Simon up with trembling, blood-slick fingers and your molars sunk into the thick of your tongue to keep your lunch where it belongs.

So when Simon sends you Price's way with a firm palm on your arse and his spit still warm on your lips, you're grateful. He'll keep ya busy.

You're not counting his blood money, if that's what he was thinking.

"Course not, love," Price says, the rings on his thick fingers glinting under the dim light overhead as he opens the door to his office. It smells of worn leather, polished wood, and layered on top is the heady aroma of tobacco, rich, unmistakable. (You will not stay if he lights one of those puppies up. You like your lungs how they are.)

"Tha's wha' the bill counter is for." You can feel the warmth of his palm seeping through your clothes— a steady presence at the base of your spine, guiding you forward with a subtle push.

You'd expected him to let you pluck a book off the well-stocked shelf that's been beckoning you since you laid eyes on it and curl up on his couch with a blanket draped over your shoulders. Maybe even chat you up with small talk, ask about your week, school/job, and how you were adjusting to this new life.

Not with his broad front curling around your back, breath warming the shell of your ear, while you stare at the smooth, raised skin on his knuckles— which is less furry than the rest of him— in hopes that you don't fall apart around the thick of his cock. He's got a hand flat on the desk, small finger slanting to the side probably from where it healed wrong, and the other's signing off paperwork you couldn't even try to understand with a clear mind, much less one that's spinning from the sheer want for friction, relief.

Your arse pulses hot from where he'd reprimanded you earlier for squirming too much.

"Quite obedient. Simon's taught ya well." He hisses when you tighten up involuntarily, indignation cutting through the sluggish heat you've been burning in at his remark. Obedient. Taught. As if you're some kind of lap dog, yipping and rolling over for a treat. (Or in this case, a cock.)

"Easy, love. Jus' a joke." The hand he'd had on the desk comes to squeeze at the meat of your ribs, a small gesture, before weaving down to your cunt, fingers spreading, feeling how well split you are around his length, lips spread wide. "I'd hate f'you to turn my own guard dog against me, eh?" His apology comes in jerky little circles, smearing slick over your neglected clit, coarse hair of your mons coated milky white.

Each stroke of his fingers only bows your spine, winding it like one would a key on the back of a doll, your muscles coiling with tension, bodily response not your own after being denied release for god knows how long.

The sharp tap on the door goes completely unnoticed by you, but not Price. His pace remains steady, continuous, as Simon walks in through the door with crimson peppered on his cream wifebeater.

"John." Through bleary eyes, you see Simon settle in the chair across from you both, legs long, knuckles angry red and swollen as he palms himself over his denim. "Gaz may or may not 'ave goaded Soap into a fight."

Price's hand stops abruptly, desperation clogging your throat, the coil beneath your navel cranked so tight you might just scream. His voice rattles you from behind. "And?"

Simon's got his jeans bunched to his knees now, cock resting heavy atop his thighs, quads' ridges shifting as he gets comfortable. He might just be a tad bigger than what you've got sitting snugly against the plug of your womb.

"They're tumblin' outside, among civil folk. I doubt gettin' 'em out will be as painless this time 'round."

Price snarls and you find yourself empty, straddling Simon's hips, your inner thighs burning at the width. "Bloody fuckin'—," the sound of his belt buckle peters off soon after he walks out the door.

Your hands can feel Simon's shoulders flexing as he runs a fist up his length, eyes heavy lidded and focused on the creamy slick dampening your curls. His cock sits long on your stomach.

"'ave a seat, then." Amusement curls his lip, usual pink scar on his lip stretched silver. Your knees don't reach the cushion he's on properly, so you place your feet right above his own for leverage, legs folded tight.

His fingers dimple your waist as you lower yourself onto him, breath rushing out of your lungs as he fills you, aching, burning, a stretch you'll never really get used to, the pinch deep in your core causing discomfort to clump your lashes together until you're flush against him.

"Sit real pretty now. Gotta wait f'r Price t'give me my earnin's."

You're gonna rip his ear off with your teeth if you don't get to come soon.

"Claws in," he mutters, thumbing your pebbled nipple through your shirt. "Won't be too long."

(It was too long but worth every bloody second in the end.)

[phemiec]

A Mouthwashing (and How Fish is Made) fansong, unfortunately from Jimmy’s POV mostly, sorry. 🐴 Music and lyrics by me, PhemieC

NOTE: this is my first fansong in five years, and sad to say but my voice has been decimated by illness in the last few years, so please don’t go into this expecting it to sound the same as my old stuff.

That being said, I have released an instrumental version, and I would LOVE to hear covers from other vocalists! Feel free to post and sell if you make a cover as well. <3

LYRICS UNDER CUT

[verse 1] Momma bird sleeping and her nest is empty Pretty and clean I feel the crease of envy Cutting a line right through the sky above me Healthy and green just like a good tree should be Momma bird leaving now her eggs are lonely Out from the underbrush I creep so slowly I’ll lay my own, her home is sound and safe, he’s Grey like a stone among her round blue babies She’ll never tell if she’s a few shells lighter Quick cracking clever comes my little fighter  Babes that feel safer they hatch so much slower Thrown down below then by my own fast grower Momma returns to feed her only child he Smells like a stranger and he cries so loudly Drinks of his fill while I look up on proudly Picking away at the discarded bounty 

[chorus] What hides inside has the skill to thrive Do you have the will to decide to survive? A parasite needs you alive To feed their growing appetite 

[verse 2] Thing crawling thirsty, shared flesh, a blessing Drink of my stagnancy, the taste refreshing Carry a part of me and keep on climbing  Top of the ladder’s just a place for dying Dread in your gullet, ignore it, buddy Lead in the bullet, it’s harmless, mostly Let me consume you, let you defend me Curling protector, my friendly fresh meat Im in control now and I like the feeling I’ll play the role of every wound you’re healing Follow the leader was always my thing Swallow your pills and lay still, unwrithing Master of puppets is my one objective Real apex predators can be selective Relay your message, it won’t stop the spread if I replace your tongue when I open your head up

[chorus] What hides inside has the skill to thrive Do you have the will to decide to survive? A parasite keeps you alive To feed their growing appetite 

[verse 3] My stress relief, she keeps asking questions I can’t believe she thinks I’ll learn her lesson Nothing outside of me will ever get in No mocking birdie with an unblinking grin Four beating hooves, I hate to hear them thunder Trample the metal tomb I’m buried under braying beast, neighing in the womb inside her Breaking its legs to glue you back together

[chorus] What hides inside has the skill to thrive Do you have the will to decide to survive? A parasite needs you alive To feed their growing appetite…

[maybeafrog-blog]

In Defense of Donnie's Gifts

I'm ngl I sorta think the shock collar was still just an odd writing decision but as far as PREMISE:

It CANNOT be a coincidence that this is the first time (and one of VERY few times) that Donnie's soft shell is referenced. Once, when Raph is hesitating to tell Donnie his gifts suck ass, and he uses the soft shell metaphor, and after that with Meat Sweats and his paprika, describing it as not just soft, but delicate. Weird, but he is a cannibal, so. (Side note, Meat Sweats never removed his battle shell? How does he know? Or did he take it off and replace it after the pound of butter? Is he using it to facilitate steaming and tenderness? Is it broken? I feel like it should have something in there that could break him out of the sausage links)

Then in that last little scene- "Forget it. You guys are great the way you are!" - we get the shot of Donnie from behind pre group hug, with his brothers facing the camera. (Idk if I'm making shit up, but I feel like this is a staple for Donnie episodes? It def happens in the Purple Game, maybe Smart Lair.) The framing draws attention to his battle shell. The battle shell even kinda matches the gifts, compared to the rest of their gear and even Donnie's tech, color coded and way more streamlined than stuff like the tech bo.

Donnie's soft shell is an innate, unchangeable part of him, a feature of his species, that he treats as a handicap. Probably MORE unchangeable than the character traits he sees as holding his brothers back, which they do sorta... not mature out of, but refine, rather, over the course of the show. Donnie's shell can't experience a character arc, but he sees it as holding him back. So he FIXES it.

The Mad Dogs don't really have a motivation for beating stuff up besides "Hero Time!!!" at this point. That's why it's so interesting how EARLY this happens, unlike with Mind Meld, he isn't trying to change his brothers to make them better at a task that he actually CARES about. Donnie in particular never gets a super intense moral compass besides stuff that threatens people he already cares about, and he doesn't have any grudges (no Purple Dragons) at this point in the series. Hero Goals are largely devices for him to hang out with his dum dum brothers. I'm not diagnosed or anything but my vibes are certainly... Spectrum-Adjacent, I definitely have trouble with literal thinking and reading people. One thing that happens sometimes is people will be using "task" as "reason to hang," and I will get a lot more fixated on completing said task than I really should, to the point of annoying people. I confuse "Successful Task Completion" with "Successful Social Interaction." It makes me come across as bossy and controlling without realizing it.

So, we got a Donnie who thinks Arbitrary Goals are essential to Hero Bonding, who has been treating his life like an mmorpg - armor upgrades, skill trees, grinding, sometimes fighting through random dungeons to hang out with his bros. He's probably even slightly better at Fighting Stuff than his brothers atp, he isn't dealing with a mystic learning curve and his special interest has been Weapons of Mild Destruction for years already. His brothers want to level up, take harder missions, he tries to get them there with his access to High Level Loot.

Of course, his brothers are all min-maxing, not trying to multiclass their purple ass out of squishy glass cannon town. So, it doesn't go well. Unfortunately, the lesson Donnie learns (besides brotherly affection) is that his brothers don't NEED fixing like he does. Mind Meld and Donnie vs. Witch Town sorta finish this arc out as best as the series can.

Where I would have liked to see this go:

A S2 Donnie's Gifts or Mind Meld style episode (Donnie tries to improve his brothers, to their dismay) where the motivator isn't goal completion, but protectiveness. We see a bit of the fear in Purple Game, a bit of the contingency planning with the escape pods in the movie. Maybe a more upfront "training montage" type scenario, a high tech robo dojo to develop their mad skills, or just a tense moment after a skin of their teeth Genius Built rescue.

The brothers confront Donnie eventually-- not just the passive conflict resolution of Donnie's Gifts. They get mad. Push Donnie to the point he's at in Turtle-Dega Nights. They get a rant about not wanting them to get hurt, of course, but also that he's already done so much to FIX himself, make sure he's not a LIABILITY, why can't they at least try to stay SAFE? The dangers are real now, and as far as Donnie knows he REALLY can't do anything about threats like the Shredder. His tech did nothing the first time. His brothers are the ones with the mystic mojo, and they don't even realize how SERIOUS things could get.

Anyway. Protective Donatello my Beloved. Let my boy go apeshit.

//I REALLY Like the 2003 episode where Leo is hurt and Donnie is fucking PISSED at Usagi. All Donnies should be allowed to enter a feral protective rage, as a treat.

//If anyone knows of any Purple Game Aftermath fics lmk. Like, going home, getting donnie out of the evil gamer chair, guilt, whatever. or just good Purple Dragons being Assholes content.

[teddybeartoji]

sukuna teaching you how to cook…       

pressed flush against you, his hand rests on top of yours as you grip the knife. it’s almost as if he’s the puppeteer and you his toy with the way he guides you – he moves, you move, you’re one and the same. his other hand is on you as well, fingers almost intertwined as he helps you hold the piece of meat steady on the cutting board. you can’t help but think how intimate it all feels, how close he is. 

his voice is deeper than usual and it’s making it very hard for you to concentrate, especially when his lips keep brushing over the shell of your ear. you’re trying, you really are, to pay attention to what he’s saying because it’s not often you get to see this side of him – cooking is something he adores, and he’s taking this way more seriously than you could’ve ever imagined. but it’s not like you’re complaining… oh, no – you’re loving every second of this. 

you’re sure he can feel that your breathing has picked up, and you’re sure he knows that you’re stumbling further and further away from being his perfect little pupil and falling head first into an entirely different role instead. your hold on the knife falters while his on your hand tightens. the meat before you bleeds and the clear juices coat the wooden board alongside with your fingers. 

and his. 

“focus, doll… “ 

his rasp catches you off-guard, his low voice pulling you from your thoughts. he hears you swallow the lump in your throat and you feel him smile against your ear. 

“i’m very focused, ryo…” 

“on the wrong things– yes.” you don’t have to see him to know that he’s wearing that annoyingly handsome smirk of his, ever so proud to have this kind of effect on his beloved.

you suck your teeth before poking your tongue against your inner cheek; your body grows hot at all the attention he’s giving you. sukuna presses forward an inch and your hips meet the edge of the kitchen counter – now completely sandwiched between him and the piece of furniture, your head clouds with thoughts so far from cooking that your knees nearly buckle from below you. 

“c’mon now.” he raises your hand with the knife still in your palm and holds it above the piece of red meat. the blade glints under the dimmed down light, the silver winking at you before sinking down into the raw cutlet. back and forth, the movement of your hands is slow but steady – the knives in your house are never dull, so every pull and every push you make feel as if you’re gliding through butter. 

but it’s not just the sharpened blade— 

it’s the sheer power he holds. 

sukuna’s hands are skilled, his fingers rough but surprisingly gentle at the very same time. he knows exactly how much force to use, how to cut through a piece of flesh with so much ease that the act makes you wonder about his past lives. a butcher, a killer? or perhaps a god instead? 

to slash and to score. to gut and then devour. 

caged in his arms, you feel like his next bite. his sharp teeth brush against your ear once more and you can’t help but tense up as a wave of excitement shoots through your body and a nervous chuckle tumbles from your lips. 

he hums. 

his fingers unwrap themselves from around your hand before reaching for the cut you just made. he picks it up and then shows it to you with pride. 

“not too thick, not too thin.” your mouth waters, you barely register his words. “remember that.” 

“mhmm.”

there isn’t an inch between your bodies and you can hardly breathe. 

“what did i say?”

with him, you’ve learned about this other kind of excitement; he asks you a question and there’s this pressure, a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach – it teeters between a giddy, butterflies of love type of thing and pure feverish thrill. 

walking in a circle, eyes on each other – a dance between the prey and the predator. the most he’d do is laugh, tease you a little. maybe even sink his teeth into your neck and inhale the whine you’d let out. that’s what he wants. a little sound. you’re in the palm of his hand and you both know it. 

but if you’re good…

“not too thick and not too thin.”

it’s a kiss from a beast that you’ll get in return. a word of praise from a god, a tender look from a killer. a safe haven behind a butcher’s ribcage.  

stained fingers find your cheek and you’re putty in his hands; it takes no effort at all to turn you to finally face him and it takes no time at all for him to press his lips against yours. but he doesn’t nip and he doesn’t bite, not this time. 

a soft spot in a lover’s heart.

[ddejavvu]

current brainrot is cock hungry reader with big dick steve. just desperate for him when in public and reader not being able to wait until they get home bc she needs him in her now

this post is 18+. minors dni.

You'd been attempting to relegate your hands to strictly the meat of Steve's thigh, but once you feel the denim against your fingertips, you itch for more.

You're relatively concealed, contained within the darkness of Starcourt's movie theater, but there's an audience of people around you that probably wouldn't be too cool with watching you and Steve bone.

That's why, when your fingers creep just inches to the north, Steve's hand shoots out to stop your own.

"Woah, hotshot, be careful. You're getting fresh."

"I'm sorry Steve," You huff, almost a whine, "I- I know we're in public, I just-" You've been on edge for days, limited in your schedule by work and other social obligations. You haven't gotten to fuck Steve in over a week, and it gets harder and harder to keep yourself civil around him when you can physically feel an ache of what you're missing.

He takes your hand in his and squeezes, holding it steady as you both try refocusing on the movie.

You manage all of twenty seconds before faking a casual glance around you, noting that you're in the very last row, up against the back wall with only three people in your immediate vicinity, all in the row in front of you. If you can just-

"I can hear you thinking terrible, sexy thoughts." Steve whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he leans over.

"Sorry! Sorry. How'd you-?"

"Your hand was wandering again."

You glance down to where you'd unconsciously dropped his hand in search of the soft skin of his upper thigh through his jeans. You can see the outline of his cock through his pants, which isn't uncommon for someone as well-endowed as Steve in the tight fit of his jeans, but it's perhaps a smidge more pronounced than it usually is.

"Can you make it to the bathroom?" He asks, "There's an old lady in the second row and I don't know if I could... perform around her."

You're up and out of your seat before he can even finish speaking, and Steve nearly spills your joint popcorn trying to follow along where you're dragging him.

"Easy! Excuse me, sorry." He mumbles, weaving through the crowd as you leave your snacks behind in the darkness of the theater. Once you reach overhead lights you're on him, and Steve lets out a surprised grunt as he's pushed against the wall of the movie theater hallway.

"Jesus! You're a pervert," He notes, "You're worse than a man. We were heading for the bathroom, remember?"

"Fuck the bathroom," You pant, "Or- actually, fuck me. Please and thank you."

"In the hallway?"

"You're into it." You glance cursorily down at the outline of his cock in his pants, noting that it's even more pronounced than it was before, "Hurry up, Steve. I wanna catch the end of the movie."

[kcrossvine-art]

Hi fellow adventurers!! A few weeks ago i caught wind of "Delicious in Dungeon". I'm not really an anime person, but I am a TTRPG, CRPG, and cooking person- . And holy shit. It is so good i  convinced my partner to binge read the whole thing. I'm caught up on dungeon meshi, the anime, and just yesterday i also finished dungeon meshi, the manga.

Its rare to come across a serialized story that is so thematically cohesive and knows its characters so well. All of the bonus content like the artbooks and monster tidbits are just the icing on top.

So, inspired by Ryōko Kui's writing and illustration I'm going to attempt to create a recipe for every single Delicious in Dungeon recipe!-

Today that means Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot is on the menu!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot?” YOU MIGHT ASKThis is one of the pricier dishes until we get to the kelpies and dragons of the menu-

Rock lobster tail

Porcini mushrooms

Shiitake mushrooms

Snow fungus

Small potatos

Fensi (glass noodles)

Water

OPTIONAL: your choice of dipping sauces

There was a crossover/promotional event in Shibuya which featured various realworld dishes from the series. They had one for Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom, but they used prawns.  while those cook better in a hotpot, they also didn't look enough like the scorpion for me, they also used udon noodles for the slime and a seaweed/kale(?) mixture for the algae. If you're looking for substitutes due to price or availability i would start with those ingredients.

AND, “what does a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKI hope Senshi would forgive me for technically cooking the lobster outside the pot, once he tastes it.

Okay im always partial to veggies but wowowowowowowoowowowow the snow fungus and the mushrooms tasted soooooooooooo good in the lobster stock

A nice delicate layering of different flavors

Try to get a bite with the lobster meat and shiitake together, dip in butter then chili- trust me

Its up to you what texture you prefer if you want to put the noodles in at the end or put them in halfway through the meal. Either way dont go for eating those first as theyre very filling

I think this would pair well with a citrus drink, something light and clarifying

This would also pair well with being extremely high and hungry (if you feel safe cooking while inebriated lol) very calorically dense

For the trial run I did one lobster tail in the pot with everything else, and one lobster tail off to the side to be picked apart. The former is more in spirit with a hotpot, but it got rubbery as the meal went on and lost its nice taste. The latter may be a bit more work but all you have to do still is boil it and set it aside. I found it held up much better. It was also easier to get inside the shell.

. If you have hardshell maine lobster available, i think it would be superior to rock lobster (keep in mind crustaceans will get rubbery if cooked too long in the pot) . Green onions and/or lotus root would make excellent additions

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From getting the ingredients out to sitting down and eating, id say it took maybe 30 minutes max? It'd vary on how fast you can prep vegetables and get the various implements heated.

Hotpots are not something i do very often as i'm usually just feeding myself. I think thats why a hotpot makes perfect sense to start the series off. If you want to set the tone of "take care of yourself, eat food with others, and use what you have" (generally speaking) there is nothing more simplistic, flexible, and defeats-the-purpose-if-you-eat-it-alone than a hotpot. Gather around and let your friends bring ingredients to the pot if you want to fill your heart up extra full <3

I'm doing something different here because unlike previous recipes where i used a bunch of different sources and made my own recipe out of hodge-podging it, or just used another persons recipe entirely if they did it really well, i made this more whole-cloth based off of what i had available, what I could discover through research, and my existing knowledge. Instead of the recipe being 50/50 original, this one is more 20/80. So. I'll pass the final verdict off to you guys :D 

What would you rate this recipe out of 10? (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Did you love it, did you hate it? What're your thoughts on what I could do different, and what would you have done instead?

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

2 Rock lobster tails

3 Porcini mushrooms

2 Shiitake mushrooms

Snow fungus (a good handful, should rehydrate in the hotpot)

2 Small waxy potatos

Fensi (glass noodles)

Water/lobster stock

Method:

Lightly rinse all of your vegetables beforehand and let them dry.

Vertically slice the porcini mushrooms. Cut off and dice the stems of the shiitake mushrooms. You can slice the tops if youd like.

Peel and cube the potatoes, roughly an inch each.

For the lobster tails; Boil a pot of salted water. Keep the shell on. Weigh the largest tail and add 1 minute of cooking time for every ounce of weight.

When done, strain the lobster from the water. Pour the water into your hotpot as the base. Serve the lobster on the side so people can pick the meat out to dip into the hotpot.

Bring the hotpot to a simmer. Add the potato cubes, snow fungus, mushrooms, and noodles.

OPTIONAL: this wasnt in the show, but its fun having sauces on the side :) i had oyster sauce, dry seasoned chili dip, melted butter, and soy sauce available

[worldlxvlys]

Can you write a fic based on Wednesdays video and we notice he not wearing underwear and it’s visible -don’t know how to explain it well🫣

distracted

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: smutttt, p in v, cream pie, unprotected sex, fantasizing, choking, oral (male receiving), handjob, degradation

a/n: @sophssturn also requested something very similar but my dumbass accidentally deleted the request 😭

hope you enjoy !!

i swear i wasn’t looking on purpose.

ok, that’s a straight lie.

but it’s almost as though he wanted me to look, he knew exactly what he was doing.

he wore those grey sweats, which he knew made me go crazy.

and to top it off, he decided not to wear any underwear ? what a slut.

he knew good and damn well that he was too big to be walking around without any boxers on.

and to do it while he was filming ? when he knew there was nothing i could say or do about it ? yeah, he knew exactly what he was doing.

i was sitting behind the camera, watching as he cooked burgers for everyone.

every time he moved just a little too quickly, his dick would press against his light-colored sweatpants, the outline of his bulge showing.

of course i was aware of how big he was, but that didn’t mean the entire internet need to know too.

as i continued to stare at him, my eyes scanned over his entire body, imagining him in a completely different scenario.

instead of his wrists flicking with every flip of a burger, they were straining against a restraint, and i was watching him squirm desperately under me.

his pretty mouth was being suffocated under the weight of my body, while my aching heat was shoved in his face.

instead of the oil from the cooked meat dripping down his hands, it was a layer of my arousal decorating his long fingers.

when he threw his head back, moaning at the taste of the hamburger, i imagined him moaning my name while i bounced on his-

“helloooo? did you hear me?” chris asked, pulling me back to reality.

“oh, sorry. i was distracted” i answered, now realizing that everything was cleaned up, and matt and nick had already went off to do whatever.

in front of me sat a hamburger, placed perfectly between two buns on a plate.

“distracted by what?” he asked as he watched me take a bite of the food.

i took a minute to finish chewing before answering, “what do you think?” i deadpanned, watching as he looked at me in confusion.

“you seriously don’t know?” i asked, continuing to eat the burger.

when i finished, he pointed to my mouth, “you have a little..” he trailed off as he collected a bit of juice that dribbled down my lips from the meat.

before he could do anything else, i grabbed his finger, looking up at him as i licked the small bit of liquid from his finger.

he stared at me with his mouth hanging open slightly, before i let go of his hand.

“ tastes good” i spoke to him, making him whine in response.

i reached forward, palming him through his sweats, making him moan out in surprise.

“tell me, what did you think was gonna happen?” i asked as my hand made its way into his sweatpants.

“i- fuck, i don’t know” his head fell back as he whispered, hands gripping my waist.

“yes, you do chris. you did it for a reason, what is it ?” i asked as i left a light kiss to the shell of his ear.

i didn’t get an answer as i began to stroke his length.

i squeezed his base lightly, making him groan in response.

“answer me or i’ll make you cum in your pants out here like the dirty slut you are”

“shit” he breathed out raggedly, attempting to compose himself, “i wanted you to fuck me”

“you could’ve just asked baby”

“but i-“ he shuddered the feeling of my hands continuously squeezing him, “i need it rougher”

at those words, i pulled my hand from his pants, “say fucking less” i spoke as i grabbed his hand, pulling him to his room.

when we got there, i closed and locked the door behind us, before pushing him into it roughly.

“talk to me chris. tell me what you want” i spoke.

“ i told you already, i-” i brought my hand to his throat, squeezing it slightly.

“excuse me?” i asked him, eyebrows raised.

his eyes widened slightly, his gaze dropping to my lips. “try that again” i told him.

“i need you to fuck me” he whispered. “louder” i spoke.

“need you to fuck me” he spoke, his voice slightly raised.

“louder”

“they’re gonna hear-” he started before i cut him off, “i don’t really give a fuck. you wanna act like a little bitch in heat ? i’ll treat you like one, say it louder”

“please, please fuck me. need you to fuck me so bad” he spoke up, whining desperately.

“was that so hard?” i asked, tilting my head to the side.

i slid my hand up to grab his jaw, pulling his face toward mine into a heated kiss.

my hands wove into his hair, harshly tugging on his brown locks while his found their way around my waist.

i swallowed his moans as my lips danced along his greedily.

i ran my hands down his clothed chest, letting my fingertips toy with the hem of his shirt.

he took the hint, pulling away for a second to pull his shirt off, before his lips found their way back to mine.

my hands explored the new skin, running along his chest before stopping at his waistband.

i teasingly rubbed his stomach, fingers brushing the waistband but never moving past it.

he pulled away to speak, his mouth slightly open, “don’t tease”

i raised my eyebrows at him, grabbing him by his arm and guiding him to sit on the bed.

“maybe if you weren’t walking around without any underwear on, i’d listen to you” i spoke as i sunk down to my knees in front of him.

his eyes widened slightly as i left a kiss to his clothed dick.

he looked down at me with hooded eyes, watching as i slowly pulled his sweatpants down.

his hard dick slapped his stomach, pre-cum dripping onto his abs.

chris’s breathing sped up in anticipation, his hands clutching the sheets underneath him.

i placed my hands on his thighs, keeping them pulled apart while i leaned forward, collecting his arousal with my tongue.

i started at his stomach, licking at the small beads of arousal, before swirling my tongue around his tip.

“fuck” he breathed out, his head instantly flying back.

“talk to me, baby. you feeling good ?” i asked him.

CHRIS’S POV

“yes, feels so good” i whispered, brows furrowing as she teased me.

she brought the palm of her hand to my tip, rubbing me in quick, circular motions.

my hips jerked up at the feeling, my mind growing fuzzy at the amount of pleasure that coursed through me.

“you think you deserve to cum ?” she asked, looking up at me through her lashes.

she pulled her hand off of me suddenly, deciding to tease me more.

my mouth hung open, but i was unable to form any words as my mind was consumed with her.

her hands, running up my thighs, but always stopping just before her fingers could graze my dick.

her face, glaring up at me with that look in her eyes that told me i was going to be gone by the end of tonight.

her lips, so plump, curved to fit around my dick perfectly.

“please, i need your mouth” i whined as she moved her face closer to me, her breath tickling my painfully hard cock.

“yeah? well i need you to learn how to listen” she spoke, moving away from me.

if there was one thing she loved to do, it was tease me. she wanted to push me to my limits until i lost it.

and she knew exactly how to get me there.

“ok, ok, i’m sorry. please, please, i need your mouth so bad”

ignoring my pleas, she pulled her shirt over her head.

“you never answered my question earlier, chris” she spoke.

her words went in one ear and out the other, however, when i saw what she was wearing underneath her clothes.

“fuck” i groaned out at the site of the black lace that adorned her skin.

the bra had a low cut, her tits sitting perfectly in the cups.

the bottom left little to the imagination, the lips of her pussy hugging the small string of fabric that barely covered it.

“do you deserve to cum?” she repeated her question from earlier, tilting her head at me.

“yes” i spoke quickly, desperate to have her in any way i could.

“i don’t know, you didn’t answer me the first time” she spoke, moving to straddle my waist.

“guess i’ll take that as a no” she spoke as my hands found their was to her hips.

“cum before i tell you and i swear to god i’ll edge you until you start crying” she spoke firmly as she lined herself up with my dick.

“f-fuck” i groaned at the feeling of her pussy sucking up my sensitive tip.

i held her close to me while she continued to take me inch by inch, until her hips met mine.

when i bottomed out, we both let out moans of content.

she began to roll her hips into mine slowly, before bouncing on my cock.

i watched as her covered tits bounced in my face with every one of her harsh movements on top of me.

i squeezed her hips tightly, needing something to grab onto as she found her rhythm.

her tight pussy continued to squeeze me, each pull of her hips pushing me deeper and deeper into a euphoric state.

“g-god, feels so good” i groaned out, watching her eyes light up at the praise.

“yeah?” she asked, grabbing my jaw to pull my face closer to hers.

“fuck yes, you’re so good to me baby” i spoke against her lips.

she ground her hips down against mine as she pressed a fervent kiss to my lips, her fingers finding their way back to my hair.

when i pulled away, i left kisses on her neck, making my way down to her boobs.

“so beautiful” i whispered up to her.

“hmm, so sweet to me” she spoke, “but i’m still not letting you cum” she pushed my chest, making me fall back onto the bed.

she laid her hands on my chest, using it as leverage to increase her speed on top of me.

“you look so good on top of me like this” i groaned out.

i was barely holding it together, something about the way she took control made me lose my mind.

“i’m so close” i whined as the sounds of our skin slapping against each other’s filled the room.

“well that sucks for you then, huh ?” she asked as she brought her hand to my throat, lightly choking me.

my eyes rolled into the back of my head at the action, my fingers digging into her thighs.

“i- please, i need it, need it so bad” i struggled to form a logical sentence as she leaned back, placing her hands on my thighs.

“oh my g-god” i moaned, desperately trying to hold back my orgasm.

“wait until i tell you” she spoke, moving my head to look at her.

i glanced down to where our bodies met, getting lost in the way her glistening pussy engulfed my dick.

i could’ve came from the sight alone.

“please, please, please” i repeated the word like it was a chant, knowing i wouldn’t be able to hold off for much longer.

“i’m almost there, baby. so close, just hold on a little bit longer for me”

my head flew back when she clenched around me, eliciting a loud moan from me.

“fuck, let go for me chris. let it all out” she moaned as she continued to clench around me.

i sat up to close the distance between us, wrapping my arms around her waist to hold her close to me.

my legs began to shake, my abdominal muscles tightening as i was hit with a shockwave of pleasure.

my hips bucked up into her, making her moan while i shot my load into her weeping hole.

“fuck chris, right there ! right there” she cried out as i unintentionally thrusted into her, my cock buried as deep as it could go inside of her.

she let out one last moan as i felt her release all over me, my dick coated in her pleasure.

my body went limp underneath her, letting her take control as she worked us through our highs.

once we both calmed down, she lifted herself off of me slowly, before making her way to my bathroom.

when she returned, she held two towels in either hand; one wet and one dry.

she gently rubbed the wet towel against my skin, cleaning up the sticky substance that resided from our previous orgasms.

“are you ok my love? did i hurt you?” she asked me while she continued to clean me up.

she took the second towel, drying my wet skin while i answered, “no baby. i’m ok” i smiled lightly at her.

“good” she answered before finishing up, and doing the same for herself.

she discarded the towels in the hamper before coming back over to me.

“wanna take a shower?” she asked as her hands found their way to my waist, rubbing light circles into it.

“yeah” i spoke as i went to stand up, immediately halting my movements when it felt like my legs were going to give out.

“what’s wrong?” she asked, noticing the way i quickly sat back down.

“my legs are…” i trailed off, searching for a word that wouldn’t make the effect she had on me so obvious.

i didn’t need to feed her ego any more than i already had.

it was no use, though, as she picked up on what was happening.

“you can’t walk ?” she asked, a smug grin growing on her face.

“shut up” i spoke, shaking my head at her.

“awww, it’s ok baby, i’ll take care of you” she spoke, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

she went to help me up before pausing, “want me to pick you up?” she teased.

🦢🦢🦢🦢

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @chrisstopherfilmed @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @meg-sturniolo @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @evieolo @riasturns @sturnssmuts @nicksmainbitch @luverboychris

[natalievoncatte]

Lena crouched down and carefully undid the buckle, pulling the watch from Lex’s limp wrist. His cold hand fell to the floor with a soft flopping sound and his eyes stared at nothing, unfocused and dull. Lena had once read that a dead man stared as if trying to solve a complex problem, but Lena did not see metaphor in her dead brother’s eyes. She saw only an absence that was a presence, a nothing that was somehow something.

Lex finally had his father’s eyes.

The gun was still heavy in her hand, her palm and wrist tingling from the force of recoil, ears still ringing from the blast. A single hole marked the center of her brother’s forehead; the meat of his genius was splattered across a bank of screens all playing surveillance footage of Kara performing inhuman feats.

(Two to the chest, one to the head, he had taught her, teaching her to repeat the mantra as he held her wrist to guide her aim as she took her very first shot)

The world was starting to come back, sweeping in. She couldn’t be here. She’d have to figure out what to do with the body and the evidence. She had to get out.

The interface on the watch was simple enough. The portal flashed open and she stepped through into her apartment. That could be convenient.

The watch crystal was dotted with her brother’s blood. She threw it and it skidded across the kitchen counter and it fell on the floor. She looked at the weapon in her hand. She would have powder burns.

Looking up, she spotted her reflection in the stainless steel of her fridge, blurred but real. There was red on her.

Lena never wore red.

There was more than she thought. She was covered in blood. In a panic, she ran for her bedroom and began shedding clothes on the tile floor of her bathrooms, wrapping the gun in a towel before throwing it on the bed. Stupid, stupid. That revolver was registered to her in Metropolis, and like all guns sold in-state, the police had a spent shell casing from it, fired and then stored for police records before it was sold.

Fuck.

Hot water blasted her skin. She let her hair fall down around her shoulders in wet locks like streaks of ink smeared across her pale skin.

(Why must you be so pale? You look like a dead fish.)

(That’s enough, mother. Leave Lena alone.)

She wasn’t sure when the tears started, or when she began to sob. She scrubbed at herself with a wash cloth and soap until her skin was raw and beet red. She was still sobbing when she stumbled out of the shower and threw on a robe, choking back tears as she sat on the edge of the bed.

She reached for her phone on the nightstand, but who to call?

Not long ago she’d have called Kara, or perhaps her sister. She could have called Nia or Brainy but they had all fucking lied to her. Even James. James knew while he was… while they…

It was Kara. Kara has asked her boyfriend to spy on her, questioned her motives.

Kara… Kara had lied most of all.

She stared at the phone. There was Sam, but Sam was away from all this madness, busy with her work and her daughter. Lena would just be a burden to her.

She stared at her list of contacts- the only people she knew outside of her employees and associates were in Kara’s circle, except for Sam…

…and Jack.

Lena jabbed the call button and waited.

It rang, rang, rang again.

Finally, he answered.

“Lena?”

“Hello, Jack.”

“I must say I’m surprised- it’s rather late, and we haven’t spoken in a while. What’s on your mind?”

“I shot Lex in the face,” Lena said, shocked by her own hollow, distant voice.

The line was silent for too long a beat.

“Dear God, you’re serious.”

Lena choked out a sob.

“I had to, Jack. She was never going to be safe while he was alive. He almost killed her this time. He would never let her live if he knew how I feel.”

“Lena, darling, please, you’re not making sense. Look- I’m booking a flight out there now, but please, stay calm and try to tell me what happened.”

She didn’t know where to start, so she went back to the beginning, when she had learned how to trace Lex’s portals and followed him back to his lair.

She stopped herself before she gave it away.

“He showed me Supergirl’s real identity. He had proof.”

“I see.”

“I… she…”

“It doesn’t matter who she is. It hurt you, I know that. Listen to me, Lena- I’ve charted a flight and I’ll be there in six hours. Where is the gun?”

“I have it here.”

“Unload it, please. Let me know when you’ve finished.”

Lena flicked open the cylinder and dumped the shells into her hand, three spent and two unfired, then closed it again.

“Now, lock it up.”

Once it was in the safe she said, “done.”

“Now I want you to lie down. Stay in the apartment and wait there for me, I’ll be there presently.”

For once in her life, Lena did as she was told. Somehow, she fell asleep and didn’t wake until she heard the intercom buzzing.

Without thinking she pulled on sweats and a Midvale High Mathletes sweatshirt.

Kara’s.

When she opened the door she found a haggard Jack Spheer on the other side. He was a little older, beard salted with gray, but he was still him.

He swept into the apartment without a word, found the liquor cabinet, and poured drinks.

“Talk to me.”

Lena sat down and downed her two fingers of scotch in one motion. He poured her another.

“Kara Danvers is Supergirl.”

“The Kara Danvers? Your reporter friend? Your best friend?”

He took a drink.

“Your crush?” he added.

Lena stared at him. He met her gaze levelly.

“What you said on the phone before I left. That he would never let her live if he knew how you felt.”

Lena’s throat felt like sandpaper. She took another drink. It didn’t help.

“She’s not… I’m not… I don’t…” The words would not take shape. “She lied to me,” Lena finally choked out. “She did something I shouldn’t forgive and she used her double life to play both side against me. I don’t know what part of our relationship was real now.”

Jack studied his drink for a long time. He picked up the bottle and pretended to read the label.

“The last time we spoke she seemed quite taken with you. I assume that Lex knew all of this, or most of it.”

“He knew the broad strokes, I’m sure. I think he hoped that if he showed me, I’d join him.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No,” Lena said, in a tiny whisper. “I killed him.”

“Your brother is dead.”

“Yes.”

He poured more drinks, another round for both of them.

“Tell me about him.”

“You’ve heard all the stories.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Lena considered that for a moment, then began talking, rattling off whatever popped into her head. She started with the first time she ever met her brother when he and Lionel had come to Ireland to take custody of her, then began jumping around in time from the treehouse he tried to build to the time he told Lillian he’d kill her if she hurt Lena to his college graduation to when he declared to her that he was going to kill Superman, as if it were the most obvious thing to do.

Eventfully she ran out of stories, and they were running out of scotch. There was enough for one more glass each.

It was The Next Day by now, and mid-morning sun filled the penthouse.

“Are you ready to tell me about her?”

She was. Lena began with the first time they met- the mousy little wannabe reporter who followed Superman into her office as he posed as a reporter, how the Man of Steel himself seemed unimportant compared to Kara, how even then her heart fluttered and she felt a hot pressure low in her hips and Kara seemed to feel spending too.

She told Jack all about it- not just Kara but Supergirl too, about the plane and the office full of flowers and the lunches and brunches and movie nights and how this woman had burrowed into her life and made a home there and gave a home in return, about all the times she had saved Lena’s life.

Again the words ran out.

“Do you want my advice?”

“Yes,” said Lena.

“Talk to her. The woman cares for you deeply, that much is clear. Talk to her and see where you stand.”

“But,”

He raised a hand. “I’m telling you this because I think you’ll listen to me. You want my real advice?”

Lena swallowed. “Yes.”

“Your psychopath brother is gone. You own and run a Fortune 50 company. You’re on a dozen lists, 30 under 30, most influential women… you have virtually unlimited wealth and, if I dare say so, a woman who loves you.”

Lena sucked in a breath.

“Take the money, take the girl,” said Jack, “and live your life.”

She looked down at the empty glass, feeling the cold austere minimalism of her stark penthouse around her, and the tears began to flow anew. She wrapped her arms around herself and didn’t flinch when Jack took her in a bear hug.

“I want what’s best for you, and right now I think what’s best for you is ignoring that little voice in your head that’s telling you to blow up your life because you think you can’t be happy.”

“I knew,” Lena finally admitted. “I knew the whole time. I knew she was Supergirl and I knew I was in love with her.”

Lena wept softly on his shoulder for a time. He ended up staying the day and slept on her couch before leaving to return to Metropolis.

She was still wearing Kara’s sweater when she made the call.

“Lena? Are you alright? I was worried about you,” Kara said.

“Please come over,” Lena whispered. “I need to see you, Kara. You can come in through the balcony. The door is open.”

There was a too-long pause, and then the double impact of Supergirl’s boot heels on the concrete.

[miifu666]

Yan! Sun Wukong AU

⋆˙⟡ —CW: Yandere Wukong, dead dove, Forced pregnancy, Non-con, implied infantilizing

"You've tied my antennas like some sort of livestock, bed me without my knowledge and took my body from the underworld just to imprison me within the mountains... have you no shame?"

"I gave you reasons to live, you planned your own death. No regards for yourself or those around you. I saved you"

"No No.....YOU. You. Were my reason of death, Sun Wukong."

Wukong stared at his wife, a hollow version of the woman who loved him. Often emotionless and apathetic, now full of anger, years of resentment bubbling up. An effect of Wukong's impatience, his clumsy powers that altered her once witty and flirtatious personality. Rendering her to an apathetic shell of her former self.

Now she's staring at him, years of glazing over his actions, his suffocating love and affection. Just moments after laying their children. She's burning holes into his face, eyes full of hostility, showing nothing more than defiance.

Her hands, once dirtied with fluid and eggshells, now clean. Rid of the crime she committed, no remorse painted in her face. Her attempts to destroy all of her hatchling and make a run for it was a successful plan. one that shows how willing she would do to escape this confined walls, to escape him. For once, She felt relieved, even if she only managed destroyed half of her hatchling.

"... you're stressed" "of course i am! From being with you! From laying those things i have no care for!" "... you need to lay down, my heart. You're experiencing a temporary feeling-" "I've had enough"

The larger monkey gripped his fist tight, his shoes digging to the ground as he prepped himself of her unpredictable action. Just one leap and it'll all be over soon.

"Come with me, My heart. You're stressed, its time for you to rest"

"Maybe you would find another consort..."

Midway through the sentence, Suklha found herself being tightly gripped by a larger form. One that's warmth rivals the sun, a familiar scent engulfing her whole. Yet, instead of sinking into such familiarity, she chose to defy it. Digging her sharp nails around the meat of his hands, the flesh of his face.

"—Off of me!"

"Lets go home. You're not supposed to walk around, that is why you're like this"

"Get away!"

"Shh... i vowed to take care of you, ill make an exception on letting you shower. How about that?"

"I dont care! You dense monkey!!"

"I'll let you bathe yourself, not without the supervision of the auntie's"

"ARGH! KILL ME NOW!! I HATE YOU I HATE—"

Artwork ©️ Miifu666

Writings ©️ Miifu666

[spicyspiders]

I've got a nasty suggestion for a request.. Okay so we all know Logan would be nasty for reader. So what if we got a bit of pain play? I'm thinking something like... Logan putting the cigar out on readers thigh. Something added with pain 😉 Overall, I don't care what else. I LOVE YOUR WORK🩶🩶

The reader matched Logan's freak. The reader is also a mutant with accelerated healing because ouch. This is set sometime when Logan was a history teacher at the Xavier Institute, and the reader is their teaching assistant. I hope you enjoy.

“I don’t think this is what Beast meant by testing my powers,” you said, turning your neck to watch as Logan toasted one of his cigars against the headboard of your bed. 

“How will we know if we don’t try?” Logan asked before he started puffing it. There was a whole technique, or that’s what Logan said, at least. He always looked silly doing it, you thought, something that Logan quickly picked up on. 

“Can we hurry this up?” You questioned, trying to stifle your laugh from watching Logan light his cigar. “I have to grade the papers you assigned,” you said, thinking of the stack of essays in your office. 

When it was lit, Logan shifted behind you, his chest along your back and his chin hooked over your neck. His hands went to your belt to get your pants open and down just enough that your upper thighs were exposed, right past where your underwear stopped. 

“You’d rather spend office hours all alone grading papers than with me?” Logan asked, his voice a deep rumble on your back. 

“There are other ways to test my healing factor,” you answered, the thump of your heart accelerating when one of Logan���s hands moved to grab the cigar from between his lips. 

“Ones that won’t have you chubbing up in your slacks? You’re the freak that gets off on pain,” Logan said, his smirk pressed to the shell of your ear as he spoke. 

“I didn’t know I liked that until I met y-” your sentence ended with a yell of pain, one that Logan covered quickly with the palm of his hand. He caught you off guard as he pressed the burning end of the cigar into your skin. 

“Sh sh sh,” Logan cooed into your ear, “wouldn’t want to draw any attention like this,” he said, one of his hands going to cup the bulge in your underwear. “I ain’t sharing,” he said, his voice low and possessive. 

You let all of your weight fall back onto Logan’s chest when he pulled the cigar from your thigh. You were a late bloomer with your powers, so you weren’t sure if durability was your thing, but healing sure was. It hurt like hell initially, but it soon faded and was gone like it wasn’t even there less than a minute later. 

Though the pain and any evidence of the burn was gone, it still left your heart racing. “I think you’re right,” you said, trying to ignore your half hard cock that budged under Logan’s hand. “We have to get this under control,” you breathed, looking down at Logan’s hand. 

You felt Logan’s chuckle as it vibrated through you, “one thing at a bub,” he said as he pressed the meat of his palm into your cock, “gotta take care of this, first,” he finished, nipping at the lobe of your ear. 

“Don’t bub me,” you groaned, feeling as the cock grew fully hard under his palm, “I’m your-”

Logan cut you off with a tight hand on your neck as he twisted your head into a wet kiss. His hand snuck underneath the waistband of your underwear to wrap his fingers around your cock as he swallowed the sound of your moans.  

“I know, I know,” Logan said, smiling into the next kiss. 

[cregansdingdong]

I have endometriosis and a tilted uterus so I just know that sex with Cregan will hurt and not in a “hurts so good” way. Especially since in fanon, he loves super rough doggy style 🥴

Does Cregan ever like gentle, pure love making? Or is it always rough and doggy style? - Anon

I thought it would be big brained of me to mix these two asks <3 NOW onto the meat and potatoes.

In my unprofessional opinion, despite my frequent unhingedness about Cregan's unrelenting and desperate pace when he gets down and dirty, I still heavily believe there is a balance with him. I'm in agreement with you that the fandom's common thought is that Cregan is rough and tough and dom in the sheets. I don't entirely believe it, personally. I believe Cregan is a switch and he's perfectly capable of being romantic and gentle ofc. I can’t speak for everyone else’s interpretation of him, but that’s my own opinion. He's your husband above all else and that warms my horny heart <3

ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴ ᴇɴᴅʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴅᴀʏ.

NSFW stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

“I want to savor you tonight.”

His soft, breathy whisper was a welcomed warmth against the shell of his wife’s ear. Spooning face-to-face—slow, sweet, enjoying those deep strokes one at a time as he slips his cockhead through her folds. His nose was nudged against her cheek, arms around her like he was afraid she’d be taken away. All was quiet in the Great Keep, not even the stirring of the wind outside was a distraction. Cregan could only feel how perfect they fit together. Bare, tangled in the furs and bedspread—and even more tangled together.

She could barely fashion herself a coherent reply, enraptured by his wandering hands and languid thrusts. “You were made for me, wife.” He groans, eyes squeezing shut with raw pleasure. He was desperate, and yet perfectly satiated by the way she enveloped him from the inside—and at the same time, never able to have enough of her. The thought was impossible. She moans out something breathless, and he was unable to catch it, but the gentle hand cradling his face gave him all the hint he needed. 

Cregan’s gray eyes met hers, hooded and blinking slowly. She crooned her face closer to his, foreheads pressed together with an intimacy strong enough to bring a grown man to his knees. He couldn’t look away from her, gaze locked on the way her face contorted in bliss—his tip had eased in just right against her walls, rubbing against that spot that made both their breaths hitch in their throats. 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[grandmawitch]

𝔗𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔪𝔶𝔱𝔢 𝔣𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔢 𝔟𝔲𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔨𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔭𝔲𝔱 𝔥𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔞 𝔣𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔢 𝔭𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔢, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔭𝔲𝔱𝔱𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔬 𝔣𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔢 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞 𝔮𝔲𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔚𝔶𝔫𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔢 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔬𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔡𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔦𝔩 𝔥𝔦𝔱 𝔟𝔢 𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔤𝔥; 𝔞𝔫𝔡 þ𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔢 𝔨𝔢𝔩𝔢 𝔞 𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔢𝔩, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔠𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯-𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔬𝔴 𝔶𝔬𝔩𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔢𝔶𝔯𝔢𝔫, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔭𝔬𝔲𝔲𝔡𝔯𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔤𝔶𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔲𝔢𝔯𝔢, 𝔰𝔲𝔤𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔞𝔩𝔱, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔪𝔶𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔡 𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔰, 𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢; 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔠𝔬𝔣𝔣𝔶𝔫𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔣𝔢𝔶𝔯𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔡𝔬 𝔦𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯-𝔶𝔫𝔫𝔢, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔨𝔢𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔢 𝔟𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔤𝔥. --From Pleyn Delit by Constance B. Hieatt & Sharon Butler 

SO, it’s been ages since I’ve taken the time to actually write out a new recipe.  I’d say I haven’t had the time but since I left the regular workforce five years ago, I’ve technically had more time?  But when you’re home all day there’s so much to do—keeping house, making meals, watching an endless stream of movies (heehee)...there’s always something to pop in the oven or wipe down or put away.  I love it, actually, especially compared to commuting 1.5 hours one way—but I think I need to carve out time to do more things that are creatively fulfilling?  I deleted tiktok off my phone to remove that temptation and yesterday I made a pretty labor-intensive pie for the first time in forever.  A new pie!  Not one I’ve made a thousand times!  I wish I’d taken more pictures throughout the process, but it took most of the day and after a while I was just gettin’ through it. 

I started with the pie crust dough—foolishly I thought I’d get it done early and get to the rest later (wrong! I started between 3 & 4 PM and didn’t leave the kitchen until 9) 

Medieval Pie Crust 

𝔗𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔣𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞 𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔰𝔶 𝔬𝔣 𝔣𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔱𝔢 𝔟𝔲𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞 𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔣𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔩𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔴𝔬 𝔢𝔤𝔤𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔰 𝔶𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔦𝔢. --A Proper New Booke of Cookery 

3 cups flour 

½ cup butter (1 stick)  

1 tsp kosher salt 

2 egg yolks, lightly beaten (save the whites for brushing!!) 

½ cup cold water 

Pinch of saffron 

Crumble the saffron into the water and set aside.  Rub the butter into the flour with your fingers until there are only crumb-sized pieces of butter left (you might also use a pastry cutter for this but it is not necessary), then add the salt, egg yolks, and the saffron water.  Mix until entirely incorporated and the dough has become smooth.  You may need to add more water very gradually until it comes together.  If it’s too sticky, more flour. 

Divide the dough into two even portions and, on a floured surface, roll them very thin.  Thinner than that.  THIN, I TELL YOU! (I hate this part) 

Line a lightly buttered pie plate with one of your dough circles, pressing it along all the edges.  Then use a fork to poke holes all over the bottom of the pastry shell.  Place this aside while you start on your filling.  Place your other rolled out dough in the freezer on a baking sheet if you plan on cutting out intricate designs—if you don’t, just pop it in the fridge. 

*Note: You might also use lard in place of butter here, which is what I usually do when making meat pies, but I felt like having a buttery flakey crust. 

So, the filling—as indicated above, I had a medieval pork pie in mind.  BUT I’ve made historically accurate pork pies so many times that frankly it’s gotten boring.  Last week I was feeling very inspired to try making classic French dishes after listening to Ina Garten’s memoir and the Pork Bourguignon was fresh in my mind.  I wanted to make a pie, I wanted to eat that again—it just made sense. SO, to turn Pork Bourguignon into a vaguely medieval meat pie: 

Ingredients: 

3-4 strips thick cut bacon, diced 

2 lbs of nice fatty pork butt, cut into 1-2 inch bitesized-ish pieces 

2 Tbsp butter 

2 Tbsp flour 

1 enormous sweet onion, chopped bigly—I like big chunks of onion but you can dice it if you prefer 

8 oz button mushrooms, diced (I remove the stems. Texture issue. But they are perfectly edible.) 

2 large stalks of celery, diced 

2 cups (ish) of carrots, sliced, carrots are so wildly sized—I let my heart determine how many carrots looks like enough 

A handful of golden potatoes, chopped.  Perhaps about a cup and a half- two cups here as well 

4 fat cloves of garlic, minced (or more) 

½ Tbsp dried thyme 

1 tsp smoked paprika 

Fresh ground pepper 

1 tsp kosher salt (to start) 

½ cup red wine 

1 Tbsp tomato paste 

1-2 cups chicken broth (or vegetable, whatever you prefer) 

¼ cup heavy cream 

Preheat your oven to 350F.  

In a large dutch oven pot over medium high heat, cook the bacon completely, then remove and set aside in a large bowl.  In the bacon grease, sear the pork on each side—2 minutes or so per side if it’s immediately sizzling when you place the meat in the pot.  You may need to do it in batches, don’t crowd the pieces.  Once seared on each side, remove from the pot and set it aside in the bowl with the bacon. 

To the pot with the juices from the meat, melt 2 Tbsp of butter.  When the butter has melted and has stopped foaming, stir in the 2 Tbsp of flour to make your roux.  Stir and cook the roux until it turns a deep brown color somewhere between a dark amber and a milk chocolate.  Do not walk away from the roux and don’t stop stirring, if the roux burns, you’ll have to clean it out and start over! 

Once your roux is a lovely shade of brown, turn the heat down to medium/low and add the onions.  Give them about a minute or two head start, stirring them to coat them in the roux then follow with the mushrooms.  Cook these together, stirring often, until the onions become translucent and the mushrooms are releasing their moisture. 

Add in the celery, carrots, potatoes—stir to incorporate.  Allow this to cook for a minute then add in the garlic, thyme, paprika, salt & pepper.  After a minute or two, when the garlic and herbs are smelling delicious, stir in the red wine to deglaze the pot, scraping any stuck on bits off the bottom.  Allow the wine to boil and reduce by about half then stir in the tomato paste. 

Once it is all incorporated, add the bacon and pork back into the pot and stir in the broth.  As much as is needed for everything in the pot to be half submerged, you don’t want it to be too soupy, but you also don’t want it to get too dry during the braising.  This would be a great place to have a photo.  Let’s just say half submerged.  

Put the lid on and pop it into the oven for an hour.  Check on it at this point, if it’s looking too dry you can add more broth.  If it’s looking too much like soup, leave the lid askew a bit to let some of the liquid evaporate.  Return to the oven for another hour, checking on it now and then to stir and mind the liquid level. 

Remove the pot from the oven and check the internal temperature of the pork—it should be at least 145F and will continue to cook in the pie. 

Allow your filling to cool slightly, stir in the heavy cream, taste to see if your filling is salty enough—potatoes soak up salt crazy style—then fill your prepared pie shell.  Cover with the top crust, cutting a few holes for venting steam.  Crimp the edges (better than I have done here) and bush it all over with egg whites for browning. 

Place your pie in the oven for 30 minutes at 350F.  After 30 minutes, check to see how it is browning—if it’s getting too dark, tent the pie with foil before returning it to the oven for 10-15 minutes.  If it’s still looking quite light, turn the heat up to 400F and return to the oven for 10 minutes. 

Remove from the oven and allow the pie to cool slightly to set up a bit before serving. 

[ryiju-muunie]

ANON— Lactation kink but with zoro?? :P

You weren’t sure how you got there. Your knees rested snugly against the meat of Zoro’s thighs as he grabbed at your back, hungry and eager. He was nothing more than a perverted shell of himself as he ran calloused fingers up and down your spine. He traced up your back and revelled in the soft gasp that escaped your lips.

You molded yourself to his body and shuddered at his cold touch. The whole of his body was cold, but in some way it made you hotter. His cock twitched in his pants and ached for your sopping cunt. Zoro could smell how you dripped for him as he pressed his clothed erection to your honeypot and inhaled at your skin.

His mouth danced lower and lower until they found the meat of your breasts. They were swollen and perked, and God, he couldn’t get enough of it. Slowly his tongue licked a few circles around your nipple, just to see how you’d react.

“Z-Zoro..” You whispered. Your hand ran up the back of his neck and your fingers brushed through cropped green hair. He took that as incentive to slowly stuff your tit inside his mouth and moan at the sensation. His fingers dug into the side of your body and he bucked his hips.

“A-Aw..” You breathed out, looking down to see his dazed expression as milk dribbled down the side of his mouth, “My l-l.. little baby al.. all excited.. h-huh?” You pressed your clothed honeypot to his crotch and rocked your hips. It was a slow movement that sent electricity through his body. In response Zoro jerked his hips in tandem with yours and pressed you closer.

You moaned when he rolled your nipple through his teeth, back and forth to milk you further. It was almost a kind of dance the way you two ground your bodies together. You wanted to get your release and so did he. Zoro grabbed you and forced you down on his erection, he let out a muffled groan at the building sensation and bit down again.

“A-Ah~” You cried out. You threw your head back and grabbed ahold of the meat of his shoulders to stabilize yourself, but it was all too much. Within seconds you felt yourself unravel with the grinding of your hips and the way Zoro sucked on your swollen, leaking breast. You came inside your panties and soaked the whole of your pants, too. Your juiciest spread across your pussy with each wave of pleasure until you were shaking from the afterglow of bliss.

It didn’t take long for Zoro to orgasm either. He sucked with fervor before a loud muffled moan escaped his mouth and you could feel the wetness bloom in his pants. His eyes rolled back and he ground against you a few times more, before pulling back and wiping the excess breast milk from the corner of his mouth.

Strawpage | Bluesky | Community | AO3