#homosexual reader

[laniidae-passerine]

positively obsessed with how Rockstar Lestat is the exact kind of guy one of my friends would show me a picture of and swear he’s really sexy and cool and brilliant. Whole time I’m thinking “oh dear GOD” staring at a trainwreck weirdo and wondering what’s happened to everybody else that is absolutely missing me. jesus christ he’s blond

[nebularyo]

so trigaze huh....

[notfernintheslighest]

everyday i am forced to make a choice

[th3-c0rps3-r0gu3]

Y/n: is it gay to be a homosexual?

Natasha: are.. are you serious?

Y/n: I saw a post about it and now I'm curious.

Natasha: oh my poor dumb sweet detka

[lanoslamp]

haiiii- um if your requests are open can you do gojo getting absolutely demolished by domtop m reader.... pls pls lots of praise and maybe a pink collar if you're ok with that? If not just ordering him around and degrading/humiliating gojo is fine (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡ I am not too picky

Also, if you have an anon list, can I be 🕳️anon? If it's taken, I would like to be 🍀 or 🫚anon then!

Take your time and remember to take breaks (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ !!

ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʙᴏʏ

note: I didn’t know if u wanted afab gojo, so I didn’t add afab lang in this lil’ drabble. I also cringed a lil making this fic so appreciate it 😕 I think I lost track but…. I may have been high making this so there’s many details I forgot… 🤭

warnings:: no beta read, we die like men. sexual content, praise, (undercover edging) collars, leashing, orgasm denial, humiliation, overstim, gojo’s infinity doesn’t work, you can’t find logic here sorry.. suffocation (???) no prep :(

synopsis:: the strongest gets a nice little reward for being a good boy.

“name…hngh, mph.. please..?” gojo pleads as you stroke his dick slowly, your rough palms sliding against the vein of his dick so nicely. it’s only been around 5 minutes, but it feels like it’s been hours. “just wait f’me, m’kay? if you hold it, I’ll give you a reward.” he nods his head, on the verge of tears from the pain coming from his red, angry cock. “doin’ so good for me… like the good boy you are.” you pick up the pace, stroking his cock faster, little by little. “please.. please, please..” you cover his slit, preventing any cum leaking out.

You smear his pre all over his tip before covering his slit again. “not yet.” you mumble, staring at his little cock in amusement as you notice his cock the same shade as his face, his cock twitching in your hand as you slow down, seeing how gojo’s cock twitches and turns from different paces, like you’re experimenting on him. gojo whines from frustration, moving to put his hand on his cock. you slap it away, looking at him with a dissatisfied expression.

you stop stroking him, letting go of his cock as he whines from the loss of buildup. “you want to cum? hm, gojo?” you ask him in a mocking tone, but gojo doesn’t even notice from the desperation to cum, I mean… hey, you can’t really blame him. he wanted to cum so bad, he couldn’t control it..!! he nods in a heartbeat, agreeing without hesitation. “mhm, wanna cum so badd..!”

you put a pink little collar on his neck, connecting the buckle before connecting a leash to the d-ring. “on all fours, baby.” gojo complies, getting on his hands and knees, facing the wall. You run your hand down his spine, gojo shivering from the touch, his back arching. you hold his hips and place before sliding your cock into his pretty pink hole slowly.

gojo whines at the intrusion in his hole, hiding his face in the sheets as you continue, bottoming out with a groan, while gojo whimpers into the sheets. his hole pulses around your cock, chains of curses and moans coming from his mouth.

you let out a sigh before grabbing the leash, holding the grip securely. you finally (to gojo) decide to move, your cock sliding in and out his ass nicely. his hole so welcoming, as if it was made for you, molded perfectly like a fleshlight. thinking about it gets you riled up, picking up the pace with each thrust. gojo mewls, gasping and moaning, each moan cutting off the other like little ‘ah, ah ah’s’

“hnn.. oh, right— right there..!” gojo spewed, a guttural moan forced from his mouth as you tugged on his collar with a leash, gojo came from only that, his semen staining his pretty pink gown. his hole squirms and clenches around you, as if he doesn’t want you to move not an inch. you smirk and continue your pace, wrapping the leash around your arm before pulling it.

the feeling— is one that of fear and bliss. one part of his mind is in a panic from the loss of oxygen. instinctively, he puts his hand up to his neck, and tears threaten to escape from his eyes. but then again, the other part is thinking about the overwhelming pleasure— you plowing him from behind. your pace— is almost poisonous. it’s slowly killing him.

oh fuck.

his dick twitches again before he cums again, his back arching so suddenly it starts to hurt. his eyes roll back into his head, pure ecstasy overlapping his thoughts. you let go of the leash before pulling out, letting gojo fall on the bed.

“why’d you give out? we have much more to do..” you turn him on his back, moving his right leg to his shoulder, getting in between his legs. gojo doesn’t even comprehend or realize what you’re about to do as he lets himself be handled by you.

you slide your cock back inside his ass before immediately gettting down to business before gojo finally realizes what you’re doing “w-wait..! no more..!” gojo exclaims, moving his legs and closing them “mm? I still haven’t came yet.” you said while moving his legs back. “be a good boy and take it, ‘kay?” gojo nods before wrapping his arm around your neck, positioning himself move comfortably.

“good boy..” you praise him before bottoming out again, this time moving with only a motive to cum, fucking him like he’s a sex doll of some sort. gojo cries out at the new angle, feeling as if you’re fucking him in the guts. you level yourself to his neck, assaulting his nape, leaving red and purple blotches after you’re done with each part of skin you’ve been working on.

girly squeals and cries escape gojo as you thrust your hips like a wild beast in heat. his hands bury themselves in your hair, tugging on each coil/string of hair as he whines from the overstimulation. tear-stained face, a red angry cock begging for attention, and a very tired gojo.

once again, he feels that tight, white coil of heat building in his belly, and it feels like with each thrust of your hips, you’re tugging on it, stretching it further, and further. his prostate? abused. everything feels raw, and gojo just can’t explain the feeling. but he’s snapped out of his trance when you hit his prostate, repeatedly nudging against it. the friction is just too much to handle!! gojo orgasms right there on the spot, the coil pulling back as it’s limit was reached, gojo’s back arching and his toes curling, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he reaches a state of absolutely nothing, but of bliss. his ass clenches around your cock, making you climax right after, your hips stuttering as you squeeze your eyes shut, biting your lip to contain a groan, but it slips right out.

after the both of you come down from your high, you wipe his tears before smiling at him “that’s my good boy.”

lanoslamp 2024. do not steal.

hand me the requests before the semester starts or else broken light bulbs will be shoved up asses like anal sex 😽

[gofishygo]

price x trans ftm reader who started his transition later in life? like just thinking... they served a tour or two together before reader transitioned. had a little fling going on, potentially on the way towards more. but after whatever mission/tour theyre on is over, reader slowly stops keeping in contact with price.

years down the line, the reunite during some sort of mission. price recognizes readers last name or callsign but the face he's met with is different. this man is happier.

price and reader get to talking in some downtime and decide that once this is all over (the mission they're on), they'll try and take some time together to make up for all the time they'd lost together. and price gets to meet the real you.

[PRIDE MONTH- WEEK ONE] : through green hydrangeas (my heart lies) price x ftm reader (part 1/2)

notes : (somewhat innacurate) descriptions of military, injury, brief outlines of smut (no explicits mentioned), gender dysphoria, reader gets outed towards the end. this may be edited later on.

wc- 1.8k

urzikistan- take down six targets aligned with al quatala, all terrorist backgrounds. a mission where location and timing and team were everything, pointed into maps and plotted into files, handled with fine-cut secrecy, knife-point precision, landed directly into price's aged hands. And now, at the final stretch, he'd been handed a few recruits at his expense. Fought with laswell against them, argued that his team could run through the enemy.

(and by god, how can he focus on the task at hand when he sees the shine in that operator's eyes, the curvature of his face? warm and familiar, the mother's milk suckled by a pup.)

It’s odd, having to work with a man so similar to her. narrowed eyes and sharp teeth, even sharing the same gun hed swore he gifted her- considers for a moment that maybe she’d changed, now baring a different name on id’s and passports, records crossed out and scrawled over. stole her last name as well, and before he’d even met you, he had already considered asking laswell to ship you off to whatever pmc would accept you.

but at the same time, he bites his tongue, wire muzzle to some refectory dog.

you seem to truly be alive, words barked with flame, spilled from your stomach, full-toothed smile instead of the sleazy grin she wore. you are her and aren’t her- and sometimes, maybe, he lets himself think youre better. sweeter. hates the way he still gives you the same greeting as he did to that woman, selfishly using a subordinate to fill out some cavity in his chest. but he can’t have it any other way, doesn’t want to have it in any other way.

a world where slowing down didn’t mean stopping. had a nice ring to it.

-

it's 0400 on the day of deployment. there's brittle crust in the ducts of your eyes that you hadn't been able to wash of in the changerooms, and now you are holding onto gun and hanging onto the sky by plane, listening to the clicks as you load and unload the magazines. missions like these, capture-kills with enemies that outdid your measures of brutality and lived for the beliefs of bloodshed in liberty; they weigh in your chest, some layers of adrenal fear smuggled under the layers of methodical, stoical behaviour. the buzzing headache that never left as a child, the feel of pressure wrapped around crevices of the cerebellum, tightening.

in these plights, you'd used to knock on price's door, hands itching to roll into fist- turning the fear you'd guide like a shepherd into the spit in stout-littered kisses, how you pulled off his clothes like the vulture to a corpse. the way your body moved against his was the nicotine you'd smoke on long nights. it was sickening, at first, how much control that you revelled in, the way that his name had found its place under your tongue. the way that he grabbed at the bone in your hips, worshipping, devotee. taken to his body like addict to a drug, the dissociation between you heart and the fat-filled mounds on your chest washed out by lust. he makes it feel like the ache was never there, that you could scream with the voice that had been trapped beneath high-strung vocal cords, unfortunate biology. and you let yourself beg to god; why, oh god why, why were you given a body at the cost of your life?

but now, navigating through some twisted buildings under the cover of night, clearing rooms in the hotel, you know that you're changed. the revelation behind the woman beneath price's sheets all those years ago, who'd stolen your skin and your eyes and your face- it could cost you your life, could have you shunned and dying like a dog on the streets. and yet, you still hold a weary head up and dream about-

Johnathan price. he still festered in your ribcage, face slipped away into the back of your skull, the bug you'd yet to squish as you drive military blade into an enemy's neck and muffle their mouth through dying thrashes. He nods, gruff sound muted behind mutton chops, murmuring an audible 'clear' through the fizzle of comms. And you let yourself wonder, if maybe those prismarine eyes can find yourself in the body now known as home. (He swears that your smile matches the woman he'd fell for through sparring matches and facebook posts. that old face he'd barely managed to blot out with cigars and whiskey and downed with bourbon and-) your team proceeds down the hallways,

‘all stations on right wing, target four is down. I repeat, target four is down. zero KIA.’ and your mouth quirks up a little. ‘deems that Ghost’s aim still doesn’t fail,” you muse. His eyebrow raises- only slightly- at the tense of your words. still.

“certainly doesn’t,” and you want to drink the strain in his voice until its ache is gone.

another few minutes of clearing the building. the repetitions of breaking open the same doors with the same crowbars, gun peeking through the side of the frame. So similar, practiced in recon and real-world situations, yet never being comfortable, safe. it’s almost automatic at this point, reducing your phycology to nothing more than the gun that you wield- deciding, acting. but looking over at price- the look in his eyes know’s you’d been injured. Bubbling fire deep in your marrow, fear bittering the air around you; foul, unappetising, yet it feels the captain wants to swallow you whole.

-

and now it rips through you- feels like your insides are pouring out, scrap of kidney and intestine pooling out at the starburst entry point. some pained shriek ripped out of your throat. at one point, you waited next to the doorframe of a room, (sixty-four left wing, is it?) and the next, some enemy operator had opened a hole in your stomach.

whatever moment between that is an animated blur, dismal and discoloured where sound pools in your ears instead of song. a captain- your captain, tackling the man to the ground in a double-leg-takedown, throwing down the gun at their side, the high wail of shots fired ringing into your ear while a teammate -the milky white patch on her face makes you assume it might be nova- drags you behind the wall as cover, your teammates taking position to cover for price, but also rip through the inhabitants of the room. and for the first time in the mission, you let fear curdle in your throat alongside the blood clinging to it’s walls, drip into your bloodstream and bury itself into bone. cant tell if the shadow hazing your thoughts is the predecessor death or subdued panic finally breaking though it’s confines . and you find it bitter, stupid, wholly in your heart, that even as your stomach spills onto the floor of a home that wasn’t yours, that part of your brain still festers. a possibility that the only man who could make your heart beat- john price, and his affair with the woman who’d stolen your soul and locked it behind flesh. Letting out some bitter laugh, feeling blood trace your lips whilst some stray bullet manages to hit the skull of an enemy, heard by the ungodly gurgle and tear of bullet through flesh, confirmed by the hum of your comms. “target two on left wing down, one broken-” price, now next to you, lets hard eyes settle against your form, dying star. “-seems to need medic.” another voice fizzles to life on the radio- laswell’s, you presume. “team delta, split to d1-d2. d1 continue to clear left wing, d2 head to rendezvous point.”

you can only really groan, blood bubbling to your throat when price hauls you to face his side, hissing out some curse as you hold shaky hand to where the blood seems to be leaking from. “easy there soilder-“ john grunts, wrenching your hand out of the way with a firm grip- a bear gripping her cub the scruff of it’s neck, holding it so tenderly between her teeth. one of your other teammates- cant identify them, head too filled up with adrenaline filled cloud and the haze to blood loss to register their shape- seems to toss over a roll of bandages. and if you had breath left, you would have barked out some half-assed remark about how strategically awful it was to tear off the gear and pull off the shirt of your uniform, but the nerves of the paled scars below your chest being revealed to cold air had your mouth shut, jaws locked, like wired muzzle to a dog. trying not to choke on the blood and jerk away when his eyes meet the placement of the wound.

it's diasporic, shaped like a dying star above you tattoo you’d had engraved deep into your dermis all those years ago. the 141’s old symbol- jagged sword without the skull, olive branches extending through its frame. a part of you far more distinctive, more tolerable to remember than thought of the girl who had decided to have it etched into her skin. And now your captain can see both of those on you- in you- and shamefully, you let lurid fear bite into you, thoughts snapping with teeth, breaking down the glass bars that composed the cage you made. Price may never kiss that tattoo again during the long nights, now look at the memories you’d made with a lens tinted by hatred. “nice to put a name to the face,”

he murmurs, wrapping the bandage to compress the wound, once, twice, thrice around your waist. Hauls your arm around his shoulder and begins the trek to the rendezvous point. one arm was pressed just above where he knew your tattoo rested, no mind to whatever blood trickles in the cracks of his fingers. “ill see you back at burningham, love,” its like your submerged in water now, eyes blurry with seawater and ears deafened by the tide filling their crevices. with the last of your energy, you tug yourself towards price, fingers tangled in his, doubling over and feeling the bandages settle under the layer of fat and muscle on your ribs. letting yourself dream of him for what seems to be your last time, fingers tangled together, pretending that your gasps for air were nothing more than laughter echoes against crashing waves on british shores, letting fresh saltwater air tangle you hair and travel your windpipe.

by the time the captain scoops you up, you’re far too deep in oceanwater, back against rocky seafloor. “stand strong, soldier,” and even through his gruff voice, you still notice the way it almost begs, song of prayer tucked away deep in his voicebox . some words he had hidden. price pulls you closer with his arm, fingers clawed and desperate, and the world crashes against you all at once.

[ryansosilly]

"Daddy energy Dom Ghost"? Never heard of her! Ahahahahhahahsplsstopmischaracterisinghimhahahah

Fic idea? yeah sure is one! You got a 'love confession' from THE Ghost Riley. And since he is incapable of regulating his emotions and dealing with what he feels in a healthy way..he is just... A chaotic awkward mess. Don't blame him! All he knows is pew pew and crying himself to sleep every night!!! He didn't get training for that?!!!!

Also, I'll refrain from using y/n since apparently people dislike it? Idc personally but for this specific fic, you're referred to as "you" or "[redacted]" in place of your name

Ghost was actually just as close to breaking down as he was earlier. And yesterday. And the day before that.. Well.. It would be a great fucking underestimation to even attempt to say that the way he felt has not had a 'little' punch on his psyche. Every single time he got even a single glance at you he already felt like he was in the middle of a war, his heart racing beyond any means for him to slow it other than measures he knew very well he shouldn't take. Ghost felt so sick just by thinking about very possibly confessing or even asking You for help with the way he feels that it ruined his appetite which ended up bringing your attention to him.

You were making Ghost truly lose every ounce of sanity he had left just by existing and it really pissed him off. Pissed him of a LOT. He couldn't stand for it anymore. So, after months of struggling against his pride and ego, Ghost decided it was time to confess. Or perhaps just confront you for making him feel like that. A fucking Rookie like you had absolutely no god damn right to make him feel like that?? Who did YOU think YOU are??

After a couple hours..(which were meant to be only couple minutes) of punching a punching bag while fighting against his inner turmoil and fears of love that he has yet to even realise, he finally felt hyped and confident in himself just enough to go talk with you and ask you very politely to come with him to a secluded place for a discussion.

The very moment he stepped out the training room he had secured only for himself, his face started to feel hot and hands get shaky. Perhaps not today. He immediately stepped back inside the 'gym' and continued to train to bring himself to it. Unfortunately, by that point, his comrades were getting way beyond sick of Ghost's bullshit. Everyone BUT You and Ghost himself knew. (Even though both of those could be argued..)

They didn't even bother checking on Ghost at that point, knowing how defensive he got when you were ever brought up in a conversation.

"I fucking hate youuuuuuuu, [Redacted], this is ALL your fault!"

Ghost groaned from under a pole, doing pull ups until he could not anymore. It was his way of 'relaxation'.. albeit not very effective. Groaning and cursing your name just to shut himself up at some points, his tongue lingering on the beautiful way their name sounded coming from his mouth, leading to him ending up sounding exactly like a broken record. His sentences being cut short from "curse you, [Redacted]...[Redacted]...." Between shallow shaky breaths.

...Yeah that shit was NOT cutting it.

He couldn't fucking handle it anymore. His arms were already aching and he didn't even feel remotely prepared for asking you out. What could he possibly fuck up anyway? It's just a Rookie either way... Right? He got off the damned sweaty pole and immediately went towards the door, steps heavier than even his breathing. That mask could hide only so much from his sheer embarrassment and hatred for this entire situation. He just decided to say 'fuck it' and go do it directly.

"Come on, Simon. You can do it.. you are THE Ghost. A rookie can't fucking make you act like this, you won't stand for it!"

Ghost muttered to himself, grumbling and growling with really severe irritation in his voice, yet, keeping it quiet. If anyone even heard, he was sure that he will be fucked up for eternity. Of course, Ghost was really fucking blind to the fact that everyone knew. Every single person could see right through the act and tell that Ghost was very much into the 'stupid rookie' [Redacted]..

With a raspy voice, body pumping adrenaline straight through his blood and all around, going to his brain and clouding his sense of judgement. He blindly walked past so many people, instantly letting them know exactly what was going to happen.*

"Holy shit?? Why is Ghost so..? Pumped up??" Soap whispered, mouth agape as Ghost rushed through the corridors, going towards the 'Little stupid rookie's hideout' as he would call it.. Soap had almost instantly found out Ghost when he was following around the new recruit like a lost puppy kicked out in the rain, even finding out your places to hang out after duty. Of course, Ghost never even said a single word to you directly..

Meanwhile Soap was planning a perfect gossip plan, Ghost was getting more confident with every step until he reached his destination. Staring at the door that he just wanted to kick open or just punch through with bare fists. That damned fucking door.

"...."

The very same second he grabbed the handle, he started cursing under his breath, the mask making the cursed even more muffled. He was right there, Ghost, just do it!! You can't fuck it up, it's just a god damn talk with a rookie you've done a thousand times before!!

Ghost's breathing was getting more laboured and heavy to the point that it was...very clear that there was someone in front of your door. So you did the so-nice-thing of opening the door for him.

"..."

"..."

Ghost just stared and stared and stared...and stared, one eye starting to twitch. The silence was so fucking loud and neither you or him was breaking it. After maybe 10 full minutes of pitch silence and him being completely still just staring directly into your eyes, he found the ego within him to clear his throat and cross his arms, lifting his chin up and shutting his eyes to show his normal 'Big boss' attitude.

"You little fucking twat. I hate you, I hope you know that. So, come the fuck outside and I'm going to confess to you without you rejecting me. Got it?"

..yeah maybe the ego was a bit too much. It took another couple seconds, maybe even minutes (he couldn't tell) until he actually understood what the fuck he had just said.

"Bloody hell.....no, that's not fucking happenin-.."

Before his brain could even comprehend what happened, panic overtook him the exact moment you opened your mouth to speak. Annnnndd...BOOM. Ghost punched you directly in the face.

What the absolute fucking bloody hell??? In the name of the queen and king what did you just do, Simon??????

Without thinking twice, he managed to get his courage and immediately ran away, going into the shadows to just even attempt to understand what went that wrong? How could something as simple go THAT south??? His brain was flooding with questions that no amount of working out could clear.

So of course, he did exactly what a responsible adult would do. He fucking ignored everything and acted like nothing happened. Just staring at you from afar for the next MONTHS until YOU had the courage to come talk to HIM about it. Of course, knowing the reputation that Ghost had, there was no way a rookie would come confront him about it, right? Yeah, he was definitely fucking safe.

A small smirk appeared under his balaclava as he took a deep breath of relief, leaning against a wall outside. Definitely saved that one, didn't he? He was very convinced that he...somewhat.. got away with the 'accident '.

Oh, Simon.. that proud smile fell and slipped right off that smug face when a very...particular rookie, You, just walked right up to him.

".... You're taking the piss..."

*The amount of cold blood now circulating through his body can make a psychopath shiver. Slowly looking down at you then immediately looking away. Just the IDEA of facing you made him want to break down.*

"so.."

*you started to speak but were cut off almost instantly, he turned around and grabbed you be the shoulders.*

"have you told ANYONE about what happened?"

*He spoke very lowly but the aggression he forced into his voice to try and scare you was prominent. Of Course..it wasn't very effective when everyone and their grandma knew he wouldn't lay a finger on you... Except that one time...and that other- Nevermind. He would never do it on purpose or with ill intends.*

*Once he saw you nod, it was not even necessary to let you speak..or even let you open your mouth. Upon your attempt to speak, he put his hand right over your mouth, his eyes locked into yours. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, his expression mostly unreadable.*

"I think I'm into you. No jokes, no pranks. So, reject me if you will and we'll go right back to our routine exercise, alright?"

*due to the copious amount of shame he felt, he was so distracted that..he did not even realise he was still covering your mouth. A thousand thoughts went through his head and not a single one was particularly..good. Luckily for the poor man, you reminded him to let go by tapping his hand.*

"..my bad."

*He ...apologised? Well he thinks he did but it just came off as kind of rude with his tone of voice. He took a big step back and straightened himself as if Price himself stood in front of him. Fuck it, not even Price can get him to look that stiff and..well.. uncomfortably awkward. It was even surprising to the passing by soldiers how the fuck he was this stiff that from now on, there'll be some rumours about you being some sort of a monster capable of even putting the Lieutenant down. Isn't that neat?*

"I do like you back. I wasn't going to reject you today or that day, you just ran away too quickly and.. knocked me out."

*The silence was even more deafening now, you prepared yourself for the slight possibility of another punch by reflex coming but this time, it didn't come. Ghost was lost in thought that even his quick battle thinking couldn't help him with navigating. Just..frozen there.*

"Really?"

*His words broke the silence. It didn't sound demanding or aggressive but like a genuine confused question. Almost baffled that you could ever feel the same for him.*

"..Yes?"

*You returned the word with a just as confused reply, speaking it as a question, accompanied by a nod. You attempted to cut down the distance by taking a step closer to him while he was still distracted and frozen.*

"Cool that's cool. So.. I'm asking you out. "

"Date?"

"..Maybe? Do you want to date me?"

"Yes.."

*Every single little Simon in his head was screaming right now, basically speaking and acting on autopilot. That was both a good and a bad thing..*

"Good. I'm coming for you tonight, prepare."

*Then he??... Put his hand to dab you up, fist bump and hurriedly walk away without waiting for an answer.. Even he doesn't know where that came from. He doesn't 'dab up' ANYONE, let alone someone he is interested in romantically.. Truly a confused mess of a person. Trust me, you do NOT see him for the rest of the day all the way up to the time he stalk waits for you at your front door during the unspecified time. Just showing up anytime he feels like it and taking you for a date will surely become a tradition.

[dear-slim]

reader daring him into wearing a maid dress (inspo from ur pfp) question mark question mark question mark

Warnings: @tiny-gay-satan. there. that’s the warning.

Pairing: FEMinem x fem!reader

“Please?” you asked, only to be met with a sharp ‘no’ from your boyfriend. You’d both been bickering back and forth over him wearing the damn maid costume. God knows where the hell you even got it from. That was pretty much your relationship dynamic summed up, though.

“Please?”

“No,”

“Please?”

“No,”

“I’ll make your favourite meals every day?”

“Mmm, tempting, but, no,”.

“I’ll do all the housework,”

“No,”

“No head for a week,”

“Give me that shit, bitch,”

Grumbling something under his breath, he reluctantly dragged himself to the bathroom, a string of cuss words falling as you waited for him to walk out. And god, was he a sight. “You forgot this,” you said innocently, holding up the collar.

“No fucking way a, I putting that on,” he said, already looking stupid enough in the dress and weird frilly shoe things without needing a collar. You gave him puppy eyes, mouthing ‘enjoy using your hand’ as he grumbled, snatching the collar and putting it on.

“There,” he sighed, “happy?”. You hummed, walking round him for a second, observing the way the outfit hugged him in a surprisingly good way. “Suites you,” you mused, before the sound of a camera shutter made him turn around.

“Y/N, I swear to god, I-,” he started as you grinned mischievously, staring at the photo of your poor boyfriend. “So tell me,” you smirked, “have you ever tried on lingerie?” you grinned.

“I- fuck you…maybe once, as a joke, you bitch!”,

[transglennder]

My anemic ass is NOT surviving Baldurs Gaye 3 😭🤣🤣🤣🩸🩸🩸🩸🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️

[caitlinclarksarms]

cradle my head just like that basketball pls

[fishsinsareacknowledged]

UHHH UHH UHHHHH MPREG NIKTO BE UPON YOU 💥💥💥💥.

NSFW FOR A BIT, LIKE ONE PARAGRAPH. ALSO INTERNALIZED FATPHOBIA AND HATE AND IDK NIKTO CALLING HIMSELF AN UGLY BASTARD BUT ALSO WANTING TO BE YOUR HOUSEWIFE IF THAT MAKES SENSE IDK ALSO SOME LACTATION. BECAUSE Y'KNOW. AWOOGA HONKERS MOMMY MILKERS??? BUT ALSO SAD EMOTIONAL NIKTO CAUSE I LOVE HIM.

Mpreg Nikto who gets even more chubby during pregnancy and is just so soft :(. Thighs and chest filling out more while he complains about his tits leaking into his clothes :((.

Nikto who barely even goes out when his body gets so hormonal, just grinding himself over and between your thighs, hands pulling at your scalp while you suck at his tits. Whining harshly through pained breaths whenever you spell out your name on his tits :((.

Clawing at your back whenever he comes, drenching your pants even more than his arousal already has.

Nails leaving small marks of his across your neck, being hormonal enough to weep softly at his own actions while he helps you clean up and dress the wounds. :(.

"We apologize", but he's sobbing so softly and sadly you can't even be mad at him. Only hugging him close and tighter while he silently cries into your shoulder :(.

—

Nikto who will never get used to being taken care of even as much as his body needs it, only tolerating it as much as he is soft for your touch.

"Ah I can-"

"Nonsense, let me do it."

"If you don't let me, I am going to yell."

"Understandable."

Happy and content that he is to fold the clothes. Letting himself turn into your housewife while you work just to keep himself calm and stable, at least he's found a few hobbies in his once in a lifetime break, what a relief.

Though he's much more relaxed while he is at home it doesn't mean he's sane, he tells you what he does in his day but he doesn't tell you how much he misses you outside of the normal emotions he deals with.

"I have missed you", but he doesn't mention how he almost threw up because you weren't there and you weren't ever going to return because he is an ugly fat bastard-

"I love you", but he doesn't mention how his heart rips up the inside of his cage just to try and get to you. Bloody and ravenous in all his ways while he holds you as tight as he can without hurting the baby, chest to chest and he breathes that he'll be okay.

"I've made dinner", and he'll scream inside his head how much he hates that you've made him into what he is. Soft, desperate and dependant on you, as if any second without your mere presence drives him crazy and it does. But at least he has someone to talk to while you're away. The meds will hurt the child eitherway.

"Thank you", but he'll never say how much it feels right for you to milk him dry, drinking him out like he was your only source of water. He'll never say how right it felt to feed you every day of every night, just your sweet little housewife to provide and take care for you.

—

Nikto who likes it when you put a hand on his belly before you sleep. Resting your head on his shoulder and another around his back. Legs intertwined and just nestled up and wrapped around you. Sleeping comfortably for the first time in a long time, tilting his head purposefully just to connect with yours. Pulling you closer by your back just enough so your chests connect.

××××××××××××××××××××××x x××××××××××××××××××××××

Masterlist

[sanjisboyfie]

me psychoanalyzing sanji x male reader some moreeee

-> i'm actually sanji's #1 lover, especially after re-reading wci i'm so deeply EMPATHETIC WITH THIS MAN and i fear his content will consume my entire blog.

warning : sanji is really insecure and has rlly low self esteem sorry

sanji probably gets jealous very easily. like...concerningly very easily and each time he feels himself getting jealous it's literally borderline insane. it practically drives him to insanity.

oh my god this + his history with how fliratious he was with others, it drives him up a wall. he realizes quickly that his past actions on how he treated others before he got into a LOYAL relationship with you haunts him to this day.

everytime he sees you interact with anyone, man or women (for some reason, his jealousy is driven up even higher when it's a woman, though), he feels like he wants to take you into his arms and stake a very obvious claim on you as his and him as yours. it's a seemingly very childish thing, but to him, it's the most serious situation in the world. he doesn't want you looking at other women, he doesn't want you looking at other men - he wants to feel like he is enough for you and the best way you can do that is by giving all your attention to him.

and his jealousy only grows the more and more your attention isn't on him.

then the envy starts bleeding into guilt and overthinking. because to him: you're his one and only, there's never going to be anyone else after you - and if there was anyone else before you, well, they're nothing in his mind anymore. you are his entire being. it's like you're the sun and he's every other planet - his life and worth all revolve around you. all of his thoughts, from the moment he wakes up to when he sleeps, are just you. you're his everything.

when he starts seeing you talk to anyone else but him, it makes him overthink all of his past actions that led him up to this point. are you finally going to leave him? did you find someone better? is his past as a womanizer going to make you realize you don't want to be with him anymore?

then he goes through a phase where he dotes on you especially hard. he repeatedly tells you every single second of every single day, he loves no one but you and that he loves you with his entire being. it's concerning, to hear him so devotedly speak about his love for you as if he is going to disappear the next second. but he's only speaking like this because he thinks that ^ is going to happen, but it being you instead of him that disappears.

he fears that everyday he wakes up, you're not going to be beside him. you'd wake up in the middle of the night and realize you deserve better (because you do, in his mind, you deserve much better than him) and you're gonna leave him and the crew. and there's going to be no way they can find you because they are drifting on the ocean and just like that, you're going to be gone forever.

so yes, sanji does have a jealousy problem, but it's so much more than that. it stems deep, deep, deep down to his own self-esteem and his guilt on his past behavior. please be nice to him or his mental might completely crumble at the thought of you thinking he's just some sort of womanizer and lovesick fool.

he just needs constant reassurance and convincing that you're going to stay with him and a lot of affection and he might, maybe, maybe, just be okay. he just really needs you to be there for him.

[paint-it-dead]

you, a regular berserk fan talking about griffith's transformation: ambition too great and continuous dissatissfaction with one's reality lead to the continous pusuit of unattainable, hollow dreams and ultimately, to the destruction of one's self

me, an intellectual: the eclipse is the berserk equivalent of conversion therapy.

[darkficlord69]

JACAERYS VELARYON X CREGAN STARK

[sniigura-archive]

ur honour they’re boyfriends

[snakevsnis]

Dumb-fucking your dear Doctor

Dottore x top. male reader

The second harbinger, the doctor, being known for his knowledge and power but also for the cruel experiments. What a joke. The man before you is none of that anymore, he’s just a needy, dumb whore.

“Pathetic” your voice was harsh, throwing another insult at him and crushing his pride even more, not like there was much left of it at this point. Dottore wanted to snarl at you, to insult you back but he just wasn’t able to think of anything, to dumb at the moment.

“You like that, don’t you? Being reduced to nothing?” A mocking laugh slips out of your throat, which gets you a whine from the harbinger beneath you, “of course you do, why do I even ask. You’re nothing more than some slut begging to get fucked.” Oh how your words hit him but oh how he wants to be degraded by you even more.

Dottores nails dig into the desk, whimpers coming out of his mouth as he was trying to form some words. “o-only for you-“, he manages to croak out, lips tugging into an dumb grin to which you just let out a half-hearted chuckle. Fingers digging harder into his hips.

You just felt so, so good, the way the tip of your cock kisses his prostate in all the right places, making him see stars. His brain can’t focus on anything expect for the pleasure you were making him feel.

Normally the doctor would have turned, whoever would even dare to think about him in such a way, into one of his subjects but you, oh you, he would close an eye this once and all the other times.

Noticing that your dear doctor seems to be in his own little world, you decided to grab his swollen cock. Giving it a squeeze and starting to rub it in the rhythm of your thrust, making him let out a loud moan. His eyes roll to the back of his head once again as he wraps his legs around your waist even tighter, his hole also clenching around you.

“Getting greedy?”, you ask him, but it sounded more of a fact than an actual question, not like he would notice it. Seeing that you won’t get a respond back, you clicking your tongue in annoyance and let go of his dick while pulling out until only your tip is still inside him.

Blinking in confusion, dottore slowly regains some of his mind back, tilting his head up to look and probably snarl at you for stopping, only to slam it right back and arch his back as you enter him once again, even harsher then before. His moans get louder and he starts to drool, as you once again start to fuck him. It doesn’t take long till he comes for the nth time with a loud moan of your name, you joining him shortly after, filling him even more with your warm sperm.

Finally slowing down, you give Dottore the chance to catch his breath, his stomach covered in his cum while some of your own was dripping out of his used, little hole and onto the floor. Letting out a chuckle, you lean forward, pressing a soft kiss against his forehead before leaning your own against his.

After a while, you both manage to catch your breath and you pull out of him, your cock now semi-hard as you help him sit up. The harbinger head hands low, with his gaze on the ground as he sits in silent. “You bastard.”

Seems like he is able think and speak again. Just for how long, until his, all knowing, mouth gets to annoying?

I haven’t written anything for a while, so I hope it’s alright, and please inform me if there are any grammatical mistakes or if you have any tips for writing, it would be very appreciated.