#i can never tell what type of fiend is what

[mountainashfae]

making totally smart decisions and sketching out my boy Chloe. Redesign #4 here we gooooo. He gets more feathers every time I draw him.

Neutral Evil Tiefling Wizard let’s goooooo

[bi-writes]

an eye for an eye | knight!ghost x f!reader

your husband bends to your will. men must learn from difficult lessons how far that bending goes.

type: a continuation of a hand for a hand, but can be read stand-alone (11.6k)

cw: 1600s au, dark!ghost, reader described as curvier/plus-sized, graphic depictions of war + violence, possessive!ghost, war-criminal!ghost, inaccurate historical settings probably, unprotected piv, cumplay, breeding kink, size kink, simon "i'd do anything for my wife no matter the devasting consequences" riley (18+)

Your husband has an insatiable appetite. Such a big man he is; he towers over you, so much so that you must tip your head back always to look up at him. You had to make many arrangements in your house to accommodate his hunger–a pantry stocked full of eggs and less fabric for your skirts.

Your house isn’t like others. Neither you nor Ghost have ever lived in luxury. When he showed you your home for the first time, you had shaken your head–you didn’t believe that such a large place was supposed to be yours, and even now, sometimes you feel like a stranger, out of place when the maids ask you what you want for supper or where you’d like to take your afternoon tea. You don’t like the fuss, the asking, the women that curtsy when you come near, concentrated over the creases in your skirts or the loose thread of your sleeve or the wispy hairs that fall out of your braids. You are told all the time that you must behave like a duchess, that you must poise yourself with your new title and your new money, and you must do the things that duchesses do–but no one says the same to your husband.

He is still allowed to sleep in the barracks. Lick the blood off his gauntlets. Polish his sword in the dirt. He’s still allowed to be everything that you cannot be anymore, he still lives the life he had before.

He still kills; and he is still very, very good at it.

Your queen told you in a letter that the king is very pleased. Ever since your union, Ghost has been quite the conqueror. Bloodthirsty and very determined, your husband has been taking his men across the water. He is not any less impressive off land. Not even the pirates have tried to negotiate; they bend the knee or taste the salt water. You breathe shakily when you read your queen’s letters—her praise for your husband’s conquests, how blessed your family will be and how valuable you are to the crown, how grateful she is that Ghost is no longer a fiend in court but rather a little more polite and a little quieter.

All for your sake. Ghost’s name is now your own, and he refuses to embarrass you now that you have it.

You won’t lie; the bodies that Ghost has stacked since you’ve been wed do not scare you. He’s doing it for you. He has never said it out loud, never told you so, but you know it. He wants to show you what kind man that he is, what kind of soldier—you know he’s trying to prove himself worthy. If he killed a thousand men to have you, how many will he slaughter to keep you?

He sends you letters of his own. Not many, but he does send letters, and while Ghost seems to be ineloquent and entirely too brutish, he has quite the voice when he writes.

To my wife,

The sun falls quicker here. I’d like to come home. Tell me of your day, and I will tell you of mine. There were a fleet of ships that came to meet us at dawn. When we sank three, they begged for us to spare the rest.

I have you to think about now. So I burned them.

Simon

A poet, your beloved.

He signs his real name in his letters. Your eyes skim over most of it–you don’t even blink when he tells you what he does to them. Sometimes he writes in great detail about the screams of a hundred souls, the way burning flesh smells, the taste of dirt in a new place when you know it is finally yours. He doesn’t like having secrets. He tells you all his thoughts, even if they might scare you, because you are his wife, and he has discovered quite quickly that you have been cut from the same cloth.

Even when he is home, and he tells you these things all over again, he can’t help the way his cock hardens when you merely blink and ask him if he has added any scars to his collection.

Ravenous, naughty little duchess, and you are all his. He knows he picked well–he knows, he knows he wasn’t wrong when he saw you across the throne room hiding behind his queen, he knows now that he was right about what he saw in your eyes.

You do hate when he’s away. You’re not used to the maids helping you dress, and you secretly abhor the help. That is why when you hear the shuffle of your house early in the morning, your heart thuds in your chest knowing he’s home.

The staff get antsy when Simon is around. He is very good at keeping an estate for someone that has never had to or ever been taught to, but he leaves the responsibilities with you and only you every time he goes. He doesn’t trust anyone else to do it, and every time he comes back, he makes you sit on one big thigh as he teaches you something new that you need to remember for when he goes away. He demands much of those he employs, and they are eager to please him. Whether it is because they respect him or are afraid of him, you aren’t sure.

Perhaps it’s both.

You sit up as the bedroom door opens. You smile, big and wide and sleepy as he steps into the room. He shuts the door with his boot, slipping his hood off, and you sigh as he grips the clasp of his mask and unhooks it. He tosses it onto the floor, bare-faced, and as he makes his way towards the bed, he sheds the rest of his clothes until he’s completely naked.

You cannot stop yourself from the shaky breath you take. He is all muscle and fat, strong and entirely too scary, but it’s hard to focus on what he really is when he stands before you like this. He has fat thighs, big shoulders, carved muscle of intense labor around his middle and along his biceps. He has large hands with calloused palms and split knuckles, and your eyes meet his own as he comes closer. He’s so gorgeous, even with a face like that. He has a long scar that stretches from one brow to his lower jaw, another that cuts his nose and splits his lip, but those eyes are dark and lovely, and you can’t help the warmth that comes over you when he catches you staring at him, closer, right to his cock that hangs heavy between his legs.

Just as he begins to lower himself onto the bed, you hold out a hand, giggling.

“Simon, if you think you are getting into this bed without a proper bath, you’re mistaken!” You laugh, and he raises a brow.

“Mmm…” He smacks his lips together. “Tha’ right, my lady?” He clicks his tongue. “This is my bed. ’s oll mine. Every blanket…every pillow…” He grips your ankle from under the covers and yanks you towards him. “And every part of you.”

You giggle again, shaking your head, “Please, Simon!” You push him away with your toes. “They only changed the sheets yesterday. You’ll dirty them…” You flutter your lashes. “Will you bathe if I join you?”

He grins wide, licking over his teeth.

“Can’t refuse an offer like tha’.”

You hold out your hand for him, and he takes it gently. You watch as he brings your knuckles towards his mouth, and you bite back a smile when he decides to kiss each one, slow. He tugs finally, pulling you up, and you wrap your arms around his neck as he hoists you up into his arms. You would worry about your weight normally, but Simon holds you so easily, barely even a grunt as he wraps your legs around his middle. You don’t waste another second, cupping his cheeks in your hands and kissing him softly.

It’s never just a kiss with Simon. He slides one of his hands up your back, into your hair, and you whine as he tips your head back just enough to slip his tongue into your mouth. Simon doesn’t just kiss, he consumes. What he did to get back to you, the things he endured, the places he has seen and the bodies he has buried and burned and scattered across the places he now calls country, it’s always to get back to this place.

To you.

“How’s my boy?” He asks when you pull away. He carries you to another room, to where the tub sits, and he rings a bell by the door to call the maids in. You snatch a robe off a hook and cover him with it as he sits with you, but all he does is put a few fingers under your chin and make you look at him again. “Oi. Asked ya question, luv.”

Your lip wobbles a little, and you look away.

“I…”  You wait until the maids have gone to fetch hot water to tell him. “I bled while you were gone. I…”  You smooth your hands over the robe, distracting yourself. “I’m…I’m sorry, Simon.”

You close your eyes as he leans close, resting his forehead against yours, and you shake a little as he lets out a warm breath against your lips. He moves a warm hand over your soft stomach, cupping you there, and you lean your head back a little at the tender touch.

“It will happen,” he says finally, and your mouth opens to respond, but he sticks his thumb between your lips to shut you up. He doesn’t want to hear you blame yourself. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s his, for not being here with you, for not be able to take care of you. You give in, suckling on the salt of him, and he grits his teeth as he watches you. “I know. Seen it in m’dreams.”

Simon has dreams. Lots of dreams, but he tells you that they are not dreams, they are glimpses into something that has already happened. When you asked if he was some kind of seer, the kind that the king used to have at parties, Simon doesn’t laugh.

He says the dreams are why he knows he won’t die. Why he is never afraid, because he knows somewhere behind his eyes what’s to come even if he didn’t see the entire painting of it. It is why he knew he would marry you; it is why he paid you so much attention, why he knew he would win his battles, why he always knows whose blood it is in his mouth because he has tasted their death before and relishes in the knowing of it all, in the certainty.

It’s never I think, it is always I know, and Simon is nothing if he is not the most honest man that you know.

So if he says you will have his babe, it is as good as truth. As green as the grass grows beneath his feet, as blue as his sky, and as red as the blood that is caked underneath his nails.

When the tub is filled with water, you let Simon sink into it first. You kneel beside it, picking up a glass of oil, pouring it into your palms before sinking your hands into his hair. It’s gotten longer since he left, in need of a cut, but you smile when he leans his head back into your shoulder. You can feel his content as he relaxes into you, and you admire his physique as you use the warm water and scrub the mud and grime off of him.

“I missed you, husband,” you whisper, and he only lets you massage his hair for a few more moments before he grips you by the wrist and tugs you forward, right into the bath. “Simon!” you laugh, “my night dress—oh!—it’s ruined!”

“Too far away,” he mutters, practically ripping the silk off of you as he tosses it besides the bath. “Mmm…” He cups your breasts with two big hands, smoothing his thumbs over your nipples, and you whine a little as he pulls at them just enough to make them stiffen. “Y’should be naked when I come home,” he says lowly. “I’ll soil y’r bloody gown next time, m’lady.”

You giggle, and he smiles. A real smile. As real as he’ll ever give anyone, maybe the only one that anyone has ever even seen. He has never shown his face in court, and while it angers the women and irks the men, you revel in the fact that all of this is only for you.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

You kiss him softly. The water sloshes, warm and inviting, and sometimes you forget your life used to be anything but joy. A year ago, you would not believe that you would be here, titled, wealthy, in a stone room lit by candles bathing with a blood hungry ghost.

A year ago, you trembled whenever he looked at you. You cowered when you heard his footsteps. What a stupid little girl you had been. What a fool. She had no idea what she could have, the kinds of things she could hold in her hand.

Real power wasn’t being able to command a room with your words. Real power was being able to say anything and have it be believed as truth. Real power was making someone look in one direction and have them see what you see, even if what you see isn’t real.

He lays you down in your bed afterward and eats. Your wet hair soaks the sheets, but you can’t seem to be really bothered as he fits your legs over his shoulders and bends you at the waist, his mouth suctioned to your clit as he eats you slowly. One of his hands is spread out over your tummy, the other you can hear making a squelch as he fists his own cock. It’s slow and methodical, and he slides his tongue between your folds firm, catching what dribbles from you on the tip of his tongue before he swallows it and leans in for more.

He has eaten you in nearly every room in your house. Frightened the cooks tossing you onto the dining table, given a servant a scare as he ducked under your skirts in the library, had the gardeners fleeing as he dropped you onto the grass near the lake and disappeared with a frenzy to eat your cunt during sunrise. It’s maddening, the kind of need that Simon requires, but it’s hard to refuse when you feel so warm and bubbly and happy after he’s finished. A pampered princess you are, never lifting a finger, only awake long enough when he’s home to eat until you’re full and cum until you fall asleep again.

Maybe that’s why you’re not pregnant yet. Simon likes to be here, between your thighs, mouth fixed on your wet pussy until he’s practically exhausted himself with a sore jaw and lax tongue.

He kisses you sloppy after. Licking into your mouth, practically spitting onto your tongue, wanting you to taste—tastes so good, luvvie, don’t ya see, yeah?—wanting you to know why he’s so eager to be on his knees all the time.

You sniffle, a little dizzy, shaking your head.

“’s not what I really want,” is all you whimper, and he nods, because he knows, he always knows.

“I know, luv. I know wot ya really need.”

“I must be broken,” you sob, cradling his face in your hands, and he shakes his head.

“Not broken,” Simon assures you. He speaks so surely that it’s hard not to believe him. “It wasn’t time.”

“You can’t see the future, Simon! You don’t know!” You cry, and he snarls a little, shaking his head again.

“You listen t’me,” he growls. You shake a little as he grabs your face with one hand, fixing your jaw under his grip as he holds onto you firmly. “Wot I say goes. Y’r my wife, so listen t’me, and listen t’me good. Y’r not broken. Not time. Say it back t’me.”

Your lip trembles, and he rattles your head a little.

“Say it,” he snaps, and you hiccup.

“It’s not time,” you whisper, and he plants a fat kiss onto your tear-soaked lips.

“Just need my cock, luv,” he murmurs. “Tha’s oll. Just need me t’fuck it outta ya.”

You nod, pressing your face to his, and he tuts, reaching down and spreading your legs wide to accommodate him between them as he lays over you.

“’s oll y’need,” he repeats, and you nod again.

You have to take another bath in the same morning; and this time, you weren’t able to walk there.

You like when Simon is home because it’s quiet. The only one that dotes on you here is Simon. The maids do not dress you or do your hair or moisturize your skin. It’s always Simon.

You smile at him in the mirror as you sit at your vanity. He has a brush in one hand, and he’s using it delicately to detangle your hair how you like. His hands are practiced and gentle, and when he finishes, he leans over you as he starts to part your hair to braid it. He did not have sisters, but his mother had him always do her hair after she lost the use of her hands with age. You don’t know where his mother is, but you assume she is not here anymore, because he never invites you to meet her.

He oils your skin. He slips the robe off of you, revealing your damp skin from the bath, and he slathers oil in his hands before using it to soften your skin. He takes his time, smoothing those big hands over your shoulders, down your back, along your arms. You tilt your head back when he warms your breasts, squeezing and fondling your tits. He murmurs in your ear the entire time, and he has to fuck you with his fingers to quiet you when he stops because just his hands on your tits has you wet all over again.

He dresses you, too. Helps you slip into your undergarments, fastens the cage for your skirts over your hips. He ties them skillfully, and after he layers your skirts over the farthingale, he gets you into your corset. It’s intimate as he does this. Even with your wide skirt, he comes closer, over your shoulder, and he tugs at the laces at your back, pulling it tight with firm grunts. You sigh when he buries his face into the crook of your neck, his hand skimming over your breasts as they sit nice and perky between stiff fabric and whalebone.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck, unnerving…the way ya look…”

You close your eyes, “S-Simon, please…I’m already dressed…”

He chuckles, “I know. I know.”

But when he has to leave again, you nearly come with him. You fasten his armor for him, help him slip each piece of leather on and click every piece of metal into place. You tie his cloak and slip his mask on, and you try and duck your head when you flip his hood up, but he catches you, tilting your chin up.

He huffs when he sees your face. Tears sliding down your cheeks, lips wet with them, eyes all glassy and red. He draws you up onto your toes, pressing his mouth to yours through the mask, and you hold onto him tightly, digging your nails into his chest armor and threatening to not let go.

“I want to go.“

“No.”

“Simon, let me go,” You gasp, begging, gripping his hood in firm fists and not caring that his armor is cutting into your front. “Let me go with you, I can’t do this anymore, I want to go, I can do it.”

You aren’t sure if Simon underestimates you. You think it’s more that he does not want you to see him in a place where he is most true. Where he wears the least of a disguise. He does not know he wears it the least with you, and that you have already seen his blood and how it curdles under his skin. You like it that way. You like him angry…and mean…and terrible. You like him when his sword is dirty and his armor needs polishing and his mind thinks of nothing else besides war. He should know this by now. He should know that you see him and see what he is even more than his king, more than his men.

He couldn’t scare you, even if he tried.

“War is not where women go,” Simon snaps. His tone is harsh, even for you, and you stiffen when he grips you by the jaw and rattles your head a little. “Especially not one like you, my love. War would eat ya, eat ya fuckin’ whole. Look at ya…” He huffs, deep, sliding that gloved hand down your throat to slip it beneath the neckline of your dress and fondle your breast with a firm grip. “Beautiful. Meant for my lips…for these dresses…meant to be held in my hands, not bleed from stray arrows, because tha’ is surely the least of wot they would do t’ya if they knew ya were my wife. Now ya will wipe these tears, ‘n see me off, and then ya will come back inside like a good girl, ‘n you will wait for me here until I come back.”

Your bottom lip trembles, and you scowl up at him. Not indifference, but frustration, and Simon doesn’t think it suits you.

“I’m sick of waiting for you, Simon,” you spit. “It’s all I ever do, wait. Wait for you to come back, alive or dead, I never know. And don’t say you do this for country, that is a lie.” You shove him backwards, but he barely budges when your hands touch his chest, a rigid wall that does not give. “You do it because you like it. You’re a bloodthirsty dog, and all you do is bend to our king’s will.”

A lie, but you tell it anyways, because you want something, and he will not give it to you.

“That is my duty.”

“Your duty is to me,” you snap. “Kings come and go, but I will not.” Simon stills. He glares down at you from behind his mask, and perhaps this might terrify his men, but that you are not. You are his wife, and you are protected by that title alone. The only man to ever lay a hand on you would not live to see another second, himself included. “Now you will let me join you, or so help me God, Simon, I will not be here when you return.”

You do not expect the full-bellied laugh that leaves him. His armor shakes with him, and you grind your teeth, narrowing your eyes. He uses his thumb to force his mask up, and then he cups the back of your head and draws you in for a sloppy kiss. You resist at first, but when he feeds you his tongue, you melt. You kiss him back, letting him draw you closer, and you sigh as he tangles his fingers into your hair and cradles you with those big hands.

There is nothing more to say. Simon neither confirms nor denies, but you taste it in his mouth, his devotion. Not wrong, not right, but just so–he has many responsibilities, but you are the only one that will remain the same. One day, his king will die, and he will serve another, but the space you have made beside him will never change. Even when you die, because he knows you will go before him, there will never be someone else to fill it. You and you only, the woman he found and made his, the one he demanded lest he kill his own country for it, it will always be you. Soft and sweet, you are, but the Lord knew Simon could only have one woman, and he made it be you; the one spitfire enough to defy her own king because she trusted his love enough for it.

Would you commit treason to save his life? Would you watch a king die if it meant your beloved lived? 

Would he?

He thinks about what you have said when he takes his fleet across the water. He runs his tongue over his teeth behind his mask, breathing deep when he thinks about your proclamations of duty. Of change. Of what remains when other things move, of the kind of life that waits for him when he comes and goes with a king’s order. He thinks about how easily he is taken away from you, and he knows there is truth in what you feel. It is not really Simon that sacrifices, it is what he leaves behind, and that is you.

It’s never angered him before. He had accepted the fact, as early as your wedding day, that he would leave and come back, then leave again. It has always been the way of his life, come desire or not, so it bothers him that of all the things that surprised him in his life, it would be missing someone that shocked him the most.

Missing his wife. Missing the serene perfection of one woman, and the perfect place between her soft thighs. Every day that he finds himself between them is the best day of his life, he reckons, so now he feels bitter about staring at a freezing ocean amongst his men because he will go weeks without her.

Her. Her. Her.

He is bitter, yes, until he is not.

It comes in a letter from a messenger on horseback. They have been stationed in a foreign land for weeks now, watching slowly as the stone walls of a castle at their front crumples day after day from the stones filled with powder that ignite what is wood and break what is rock. The letter is sealed with wax, with the motif of a snake. It is given directly to Simon, whose name is scribbled in the letter, and when he reads it, he tastes ichor and smoke.

So the great phantom has come to seal my fate. I am not in the business of letting what is mine be taken. Even if you have brought your all, it won’t be taken from me.

I heard you have a beautiful new wife. I heard you paid for her in blood.

I shall do the same. I will hang your sword above our marriage bed.

Ghost is not someone that bends to the threats from foe he cannot look in the eye. Words are so empty. It is nothing like when he stands just a few meters apart from them, eyes fixed against one another, as they decide whether today they want to live or they want to die. The letter means nothing, but he’s surprised by the heat that bubbles under his ribs at the mention of his bride. He meant it when he said you were not meant for war, and that meant in this regard, too–nobody was allowed to talk about you, not like this, not ever.

When his king orders him home, Ghost crumples the note and tosses it into embers. He watches it burn, and then he orders his men to set to flame the ground around the stone walls.

So men like him can be goaded, it seems. His resolve is not as strong as he thought.

The weeks make you anxious. All you do is sit and collect dues and tell the maids which dress you want to wear and which you do not. It is peaceful and boring, and you wish Simon was here to make your days more exciting, but he is not.

His letters are the only things that keep you occupied, truly. He writes to you about war and loneliness, and you write to him about the mundane of domesticity and the ache he leaves behind. Sometimes, his letters come folded with pressed flowers he finds along the way, and you start to collect them, putting them away in small boxes or using them as bookmarks as you go through Simon’s library.

He has many books. His most loved books are those of war, of history, and you smooth your fingers over the pages he has dogeared and find comfort in reading the same words that he once did. You learn, as well. While in your studies as a girl, they made you learn arithmetic and the flowery bits of history and art, here in Simon’s house, you learn of strategy and weaponry and military tactic. Sometimes you disagree, and you write about these disagreements to Simon, and he writes back, pleased with your observations. He told you once that if you were a man, he would want you in that tent with him, beside him, deciding on which formations to take and when to strike. You responded saying that you could be that for him anyway. What did your sex have anything to do with whether you were right or wrong?

Simon agreed.

But I would never invite you here, dear wife. You have to understand that.

When your queen asks for your audience for dinner, you oblige easily; finally, you have something to do rather than add up numbers or sign a document on Simon’s behalf or read another fucking book.

You don’t want to wear all the costume your maids insist on, but you appease them after they repeatedly explain to you what your title means. With a drawn face, you let them tie your corset and layer your skirts, and you watch in the mirror as they braid your hair and drape large, obnoxious jewels over you. You grimace at the tiara they fit into your hair, and your elderly handmaid pinches your cheeks and tells you to put on a fair countenance, Your Grace, lest you make the Duke look ungrateful.

You bite your tongue from snapping at her. She should know that Simon would say nothing about your countenance; all he would do is fix whatever was bothering you until you smiled again.

You arrive early enough to have tea. Your queen is so excited to see you; she gushes when you meet her in the throne room, pulling you up from your curtsy so she can hug you tight, squealing. When you try to address her with a curt “Your Majesty,” she shakes her head, pressing her hands to your cheeks and giggling, “No need for formalities now. Call me Victoria.”

You hide your displeasure with a small smile. Now that you are no longer her lady-in-waiting, she allows you her name. Is it because she sees you more as equals, or because now you’re allowed to be somewhat of friends?

You must be some kind of friend. She sizes you up like you are one. She wears England’s colors this afternoon. A fire red dress adorned with gold accents, a dragon pin holding her shawl. She wears magnificent red and gold jewelry, but she’s looking at your dress, and you can see the slight twitch of her eye. You are wearing French lace, and she doesn’t like it. Or maybe she doesn’t like the color, the accents of navy blue and silver that you wear.

The skull motif that is woven into your tiara and printed on your coat and sewn into your dress. Does it insult her? That all your life, you wore nothing but browns and beiges and grays, were invisible to her, and now you represent your house, visit her as your guest, and bear an honorable name?

You were no one when you served her. Just a girl, no close family, no friends, just a distant uncle who gave you to the crown that hoped you could be of service. That was to be your duty for all your life–to serve the king’s wife until she wanted you no more or until she was gone. To cater to her every need and every wish, no matter the time of day or night.

Now you sit across her, more noble. Refined. Wearing a dress she despises, perhaps because she likes it more than her own.

Over tea, she gossips about the other ladies she has visit. You’ve heard this before, but you’ve never been included in the conversation. She talks to you, and she wants to hear your opinion, and you find yourself uneasy as you try to think of what to say. She is your queen, and you want her to like you. When you worked for her, you earned her favor by always warming up her jewels before she put them on, by making sure she had her tea ready in the morning at her bedside, by always holding the fan she so loved for when she inevitably had a hot flash. Now, as her friend, you weren’t exactly sure what to do. You suck in a soft breath and look at her, and then you purse your lips.

You think it best to agree with her. To be on her side. You might not be her direct servant any longer, but you still must fall under her favor. A queen’s favor can be just as powerful, especially if she occasionally has the ear of her husband.

“Well, that’s not very kind of her,” you say finally, and she laughs.

“No! She’s such a prude. I think her husband doesn’t sleep in her bed enough, if you know what I mean,” she winks at you. You giggle at that. “Speaking of husbands–” She pops another cake in her mouth. “How is yours?”

You reach up and tug at your necklace a bit, smiling nervously.

“Oh, uh…” You clear your throat, “He’s doing very well. I hear his latest campaign is quite the success. His majesty is very smart, heading for the east that way, I’m sure they will be victorious soon enough.”

Victoria smiles at the thought of her husband. His intelligence. She always used to talk to you about how many hours he worked, how she hated when he was away, how she wished he was home more so he could give her a son because she was so, so lonely.

“Wise words from the duchess, aye, my love?”

You jump a bit at the low voice from behind, and when you turn, you gasp, immediately standing and falling into a delicate curtsy. John Price waves his hand, coming further into the room, shaking his head.

“It’s alright,” he tells you. “Please, sit. You’re here as my guest.”

You stand and lift your head, trying to relax. You take a seat, smiling nervously, and Victoria smiles giddily at her husband. When he bends to kiss her cheek, she fawns, reaching for his hand and squeezing it before taking another piece of tart and eating it. John hums before motioning for one of the staff to fill your cup again with tea. He eyes you curiously, taking in your appearance. You sit up at that, performatively brushing off over the skull pattern on your corset. John runs his tongue over his teeth, smoothing a big palm down his wife’s long coils of hair.

“Since you’re here, I’d like a word, if that’s alright,” John says to you. His tone carries a little more authority now, and Victoria sighs, whining a little.

“John, please, she’s my friend. Can’t it wait–”

“That wasn’t a question, Victoria,” John bites. Her face falls a little. She swallows and tucks her hands into her lap. You’re reminded as you look at the slight wobble of her lip that there is no one truly above John Price, not even her. You keep your face neutral, but if you were invisible, you’d pity her.

What a shame her husband sees her as less than. How embarrassing. Your Simon would never. Your Simon waits until you finish speaking before speaking himself. Your husband kneels to take off your shoes, your husband tears your skirts to get a taste of you, your husband used his teeth to sever a man’s throat just to have your hand.

What did John Price do to get his wife? Who did John Price kill to have her hand? How many bruises did he earn around his knees on their wedding night from eating her out? As many as Simon, whose knees were black and blue by morning?

No, you suppose not. How unfortunate. How pathetic.

Victoria picks up her skirt and stands, pasting a big smile on her face. It doesn’t reach her eyes, and you can see the way her hands shake a little as she scurries off. She scowls as soon as she turns away from John, clearly annoyed.

“I’ll go check on dinner,” she says, but it is soft and unenthusiastic.

When she goes, the room falls quiet. At the nod of John’s head, the staff leave, and you keep still in your seat as John sits across from you, picking up one of the cakes in front of him and breaking off a piece to busy himself. He keeps his eyes on his task of cutting up the cake in small pieces, focused on his hands and how they work. You watch him carefully, steeling yourself.

You anticipate a conversation between man and woman, not a king and his lesser.

“Simon’s been away for some time. I bet that’s difficult for you.”

You straighten your posture, realizing what this conversation will be. By his tone, John seems to think you a bored, stupid housewife, perhaps. Uneducated. A woman, no thoughts in her head. You let your face relax, and you fold your hands in your lap. Maybe now is the time John should learn who you are and who you are not.

What you have become and what you no longer are.

“I do just fine, Your Majesty,” you say finally. You pick up a spoon and drop a cube of sugar into your tea, and you stir, picking it up to take a long sip. John is curious by your content. You have a quick tongue. “I could say the same to you, couldn’t I?”

John laughs. He narrows his eyes a bit at your clever response, taking a large bite of the cake and running a cloth over his beard. His eyes sparkle a little.

“So you know.”

“Know what, Your Majesty?”

“You know I gave Simon orders. And you know he didn’t listen to me.”

You purse your lips, but he sees the shine in your eyes. The lack of surprise. His face twitches a bit, and you shake your head. You blink slow, and it irks him to see you so calm. He is your king, and Simon answers to him, and you are his wife, so you must answer, too.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“I could have your husband’s head cut off for treason for that, you’re aware, aren’t you?”

You tilt your head to the side. What an odd thing for John to say. What an odd thing for John to contemplate, since it would never come to pass. “Don’t be daft, my king. You wouldn’t want to do that.”

John slams his fist on the table, making the plates and cups rattle with his frustration, but you do not even flinch. You blink, stone-faced, and it makes his nostrils flare. He recognizes that glare, he knows it well. He has seen it before, stared it down many times in rooms just like this. Only now, he is not fighting for land, he fights for control of the one man that he has always been able to rely on. Simon has followed him into battles outnumbered by a thousand men, and only now he ignores an order? Only now he chooses something different?

“Now, let’s be civil, Your Majesty,” you say softly. You smile at him, leaning your head in your hand. “Is there something that you need from me? I have a feeling you might have encouraged this dinner just so you could see me in passing, so why don’t you just ask me what you wanted to ask me?”

John lets out a deep breath, leaning his elbows on the table, lowering his voice. He leans towards you, and you admire how blue his eyes are. John is quite a handsome king, but he does not captivate you. It has been a long time since John has tasted blood, and he lacks the edge that you crave dearly.

“I need him back here, is what I need,” John murmurs.

“My king, I couldn’t get him back here any more than you could, even if I wanted to.”

“Now who’s being daft?”

You scoff, leaning back in your chair. John is not a stupid man. He created a beast of a man, and he is trying not to poke it too hard. You shift, brushing down your skirts, and you let out a low breath.

“Why did he refuse?” You ask finally.

“What?”

“Why does he ignore your order to come back?” You ask again. “I can’t think of a lot of reasons why he would stay. So why did he ignore you?”

John clicks his tongue, smoothing a few of his fingers over his beard. He averts his eyes, looking out the tall windows, frowning a little at the grim weather. The weather is always grim here, but it irks him at the moment, makes him scowl a little harder.

“I was…informed that there was some sort of letter,” John explains. “Some threat.”

“I don’t follow. He gets lots of threats. And terrible letters.”

“Was about you this time, Your Grace.”

You close your eyes at that, shaking your head. Simon would never be so foolish as to be baited by baseless threats. He barely bats an eye when someone even in front of him draws his sword. He is so comforted by his ability to win, by his dreams and his visions that have not yet happened.

“That’s absurd,” you breathe. “Simon wouldn’t…”

John chuckles, but there is no humor there. “Wouldn’t he?”

“I still don’t understand what you expect me to do,” you roll your eyes, looking away. “Simon is…he’s not…he doesn’t listen. It’s why he’s good at this, isn’t it? He doesn’t really take orders, he’s…I…”

John has never complained before about the way Simon chooses to lead. Oftentimes, it is an order ignored that has made it so that he delivered another crown at John’s feet. Simon asks for forgiveness, not permission, and John has barely batted at eye at it. He sees Simon as some kind of distant son, but this refusal bothers him so?

John leans forward. “You need to understand something here, Simon is a rabid dog,” he spits. “And sometimes I let him off his lead, but this isn’t like anything I’ve had to deal with. I need you to call him back here.” He scoots closer. “England needs you to call him back here. To me.”

You narrow your eyes a little. England needs you to call him back? What kind of sick sense of patriotism is he trying to instill in you? John is stupider than he looks, to think a woman like you would show loyalty to country. You are loyal to your husband, and nothing else, because what has king and country ever really done for a woman like you except for dispose of you?

You wear Simon’s colors, not John’s, and you will wear them to your deathbed.

“If I do this for you, my king, then you owe me,” you whisper. He laughs again, no humor, and he picks up a goblet and fills it to the brim with wine. He drinks half before slamming it down onto the table, spilling it over his hand.

“Kings do not owe their subjects.”

“Quite right, Your Majesty,” you agree, picking up your napkin and dropping it onto the table. You stand, giving him a polite curtsy. “But I am not doing this as your subject.”

“Everything you do is as my subject.”

“You put your entire right to the throne on the back of one man,” you say softly. You are not accusing him, you’re reminding him of a truth. “Simon is why…he’s why your counsel still listens to you. He’s why your people are free from famine, why…why your taxes get paid on time, why your kingdom is still standing, no thanks to your father who wasted this place’s fortune on women and liquor.” You shake your head. “You have an eye for conquest, Your Majesty, but you lack the execution of any plan you conjure.”

You are not wrong, and John knows this, and it’s why he hasn’t spoken up yet or interrupted you. The man before, his own father, was a drunkard who spent all their money. He drank himself into the grave, and the only reason John stands before you now is because of Simon. A man who he fought beside, who he commanded, who once John’s duty became reality took up the mantle and finished what his father never could.

John would be in the next history book you read because of Simon, and it’s Simon’s name that will never be written. They do not bestow legacy to men who serve other men.

“Where…Where did you learn to speak to men this way?” John scoffs. “I am your king.”

You must have hit a soft spot. John is defensive now, and men only deflect and insult when they are cornered with the truth. They don’t like being held in front of a mirror.

“You are king because my husband made it so,” you correct him gently. “And Simon is a loyal dog, and that is good for your sake, because if he had any desire for your seat, it would be his.” You come closer, your heels sounding, and John glares down at you; but you glare right back because you are protected by your name and what you can do with it. John knows this, and it angers him, but he seems to have difficulty facing the truths of his own making. “But he is not your dog anymore. He’s mine.”

Your pen on paper is aggressive. You can tell because the splotches of ink are deep, bleeding black sinking into white as you put angry word to parchment. Not even a fortnight later, you are playing cards with Victoria, and you see Simon’s silhouette standing in the doorway, hood shadowing his masked face as he observes. When you look over your shoulder where John sits, and you meet his eyes, he looks away from you with a grim understanding.

Simon answers your call. Always.

At dinner, John is in better spirits. He drinks with a big smile, eats more than one plate, and he picks Victoria up by the waist to make her dance with him when he asks for the music to be played louder. Simon sits, fidgety, gloved hands moving in and out of fists as he watches you cut into your food and eat it with a blank face. He huffs beside you, his armor stiffening as he sits up straight, and you let your fork clatter onto your plate as you turn to glare at him.

“You were thinking with your cock, Simon,” you spit. “That is how men like you get killed.”

“You ‘ave no idea how men like me get killed because there are no men like me,” Simon growls. You roll your eyes, standing, and he grips your wrist angrily, tugging you close until you fall into his lap. You sigh, shaking your head, putting your hands on his broad shoulders and making him look at you.

“Maybe,” you whisper. “But I’m not wrong. It is how you’ll lose. You know better than that, Simon. To fight someone because they taunted you in a letter, it’s playing the fool.” You cup his cheeks, keeping his eyes on yours. “You don’t need me to tell you that, and yet here we are.”

He breathes slow, closing his eyes for just a moment. He thinks he came for this, just a little. For clarity. Reason. It comes from you in waves, and it’s comforting to hear. It is something he knew, and yet it only makes sense now that you have said it.

“I know,” Simon mutters. “I know. Y’r right. I’m sorry, luv.”

You ask him to apologize when he undresses you. You ask him to apologize again when he sinks into a hot bath with you. You ask him a third time when he is in your bed, a heavy weight between your thighs as he licks and sucks at the soft skin of your tummy. He begs, lowly, let me ‘ave it, and you will, but he has to say he’s sorry again.

“‘m sorry,” he breathes, sucking on your inner thigh, and you close your thighs around his head, forcing his mouth against your cunt.

“Again, Simon,” you whisper. “I wanna hear it again.”

“‘m sorry,” he slides a rough tongue between your folds, breathing shakily when he tastes the oil that he smoothed over your skin only moments ago. You taste so good, you smell so lovely, coming off of you like fumes blinding his senses so that nothing else but you makes any sense at all. When you open your eyes, you think about where you are, and you nearly come thinking about what you have wrapped around your finger.

Not even your king tells your husband what to do. Not even your king commands his men, they won’t listen, he’s not who they turn to when things go belly-up, it’s your husband, and your husband answers to you.

You weren’t sure about it until today. Seeing him when you asked him to come, it flooded you with something that hurt. You could tell from even so far away that Simon was salivating under that mask. You knew the only thing separating his mouth from your cunt were the other people around him (and they were not privy to seeing you naked).

It is such a thing to observe. John needed a lead on Simon when he was his dog. You need no such mechanism. Simon never strays, not with you. He sits proper when you ask, and he speaks when spoken to. He tears at unwanted flesh, and he comes when you call.

John cannot give him all that he desires. Perhaps he thought what Simon truly wanted was fame and fortune. Legacy. But like most things men do, John does not observe. He takes in only what is right in front of him, and he makes assumptions. Simon is not like other men. Fame and fortune do not matter. He does not care about legacy. What matters to Simon is what he can hold in his hands. The ground under his feet. The steel in his hand. The woman underneath him, spreading her legs, inviting him in.

You love Simon. You love Simon more than anything in the entire world, but it would be a lie to say that you are not at some advantage here. Simon is all-consuming. He is the pinnacle of duty and honor and everything that a man is supposed to be, but Simon is also weak. There is something that he wanted more than anything in the world, and now that he has it, he will do anything to keep it, and that makes him vulnerable. Subject to all kinds of new things. Revenge. Retaliation. Pain.

Manipulation.

Maybe you should feel bad about it. Maybe you should feel guilty, but it’s hard to feel anything like it when there’s a big bear of a man between your thighs slobbering on your pussy like dessert. It’s hard to feel anything but bliss when he’s tracing the letters of his name into your cunt and making you see stars and fucking you into the silk sheets like it’s the last time he’ll ever have you.

It is men who govern your world, and if this is how you must move in it, then so be it. You will not feel bad. You will not be sorry for doing what anyone else would do. John thought he could keep his hand there, muzzle his mutt, but you like him this way, and you’re certain John doesn’t fuck the way you do.

He’s mine.

It isn’t John that commands an army, it’s you; or maybe your cunt, but that belongs to you, too, so it is you, isn’t it? You’re the one that lets him inside, that whispers in his ear, that tells him things you know he wants to hear to make things move in your favor, so it’s you, right?

Not John. Not Victoria. Not their counsel. You. They have stepped on you your entire life. They have made you small and inferior and sad for all of your existence, and they gave you something feral knowing it could eat you alive, and now you are the hand that feeds, and they are forgetting that if they bite too hard, you have something that will surely bite harder.

A collar would suit him, you think. He would look so pretty. He already is, the terrible beast, prettiest thing you’ve ever seen (the necklace your drape over him does just fine, a pendant with his motif that you hope reminds him of you). You don’t care if people would say his face is quite ugly. It is, very much so, but you never see him this way. Whenever that mask falls, your stomach flips. He takes your breath away. His intensity, his raw form of love, the look on his face–there is nothing else in the entire world that will love you the way he loves you.

“You came back for me?” You ask. You have a leg tangled between his, and his fingers are between your thighs, a shadow of a smirk on his face as he feels the mixture of your cum and his. He grunts a little, and you tilt your head to look up at him, your chin on his chest.

“‘f course,” Simon mutters, and you kiss his chest gently, keeping your eyes on his.

“But not for John.”

He turns his head, looking down at you more intently, and he scoffs. You know it’s true, but you want to hear it, anyways. You want to hear Simon admit, unknowingly, that you are the tether.

“John is afraid, and I don’t listen to ‘im when he’s afraid. Makes bad choices.”

It’s almost adorable that this is what Simon tells himself. That he comes back for his own sake, and not for yours, even though they are one and the same, intertwined and inseparable.

“Simon,” you say softly, and he sighs, his eyes closing briefly when you kiss him gently. “You have to listen to your king when he asks you to come back. Making a…rash decision about war strategy is one thing, but…” You cup his cheek gently. “Make things easier for me, husband. If he asks you to come back, you come back.”

This time, at least. Just this time.

Simon snarls a bit, but you swallow it when you kiss him. You maneuver yourself over him, straddling his hips, and he grunts as you sink down on him. He swells hard again very quickly, releasing a deep breath as you give a slow roll of your hips.

“Make things easy for me, my love,” you whisper, and he leans his head back, putting two big hands on your ass and moving you with ease. “Appease your king, yes? For me?”

“Can’t say no when y’r pussy squeezes me like tha’, sweet’eart,” Simon groans, and you giggle, planting your hands on his chest and starting to move a little faster. You lean your head back, your mouth falling open, and you gasp when you sink down completely, your ass touching his thick thighs as you tighten around him. “Fuckin’ Christ–”

“I hate when you go,” you whine, digging your nails into his chest. He hisses, planting his feet on the bed, and he fucks up into you with a renewed fervor. “Hate when you’re not here, Simon, I-I miss you, miss this–”

“Nghh…fuck, I know,” Simon pants. “Can feel it. Feel you.” You squeal when he grips you by the waist and turns you over. He makes it seem so easy, tossing your weight underneath him, and your arms circle around his neck as you draw him closer, hanging onto him. “Y’r so fuckin’ pretty…”

“Simon–”

He kisses to devour. His jaw hinges wide to kiss you sloppy, breathing in the moans that you can’t contain. Simon always fucks so well, stretching your thighs as wide as they will accommodate so he can make room for the goliath of himself that he is. He suffocates, in a good way, and his cock never fails to stretch you for all that you are worth. Simon holds your jaw in place as he grinds into you, relishing in the wet smack of his hips against yours. The fat of you satisfies him. It makes him growl with delight when he grabs onto wide hips, your fat arse, the body that you hold that tells him you are fed and warm and content. It draws his grin wider, and it makes him drool thinking about having you again and again and again, until you beg him for reprieve and his heir sits in your womb.

Simon fucks for sport. He wants to see how stupid he can make you. He wants to know how long you’ll cry for, how fat he can make your tears. He wants to know how loud you will cry, how many times he can make you cum before you’re incoherent, he wants to know the extent to which he can use you that you will still be awake enough to say his name just one more time. Simon is not satisfied until he pushes your limits.

It is what a Riley does. They endure, and they eat, and they consume, and they take pleasure in the all-encompassing indulgement of things they have never been allowed to have. You are a woman, so he knows this will come easy for you. So often, he knows, women are not allowed to indulge at all, so he wants you to. He wants you to cry and moan and eat, and he wants you to do it bearing his name so that no one will ever tell you no.

Simon says no to kings, and they placate, or they die. His wife will be offered the same respect, and he’ll stand behind her with a sword to make it law. When you bear his children, he will expect the same of them–to give their mother utter devotion, lest they answer to his hand. There is no one above you, not God, not country, and certainly not blood. They will know what their father did to have you, and they will spill the same amount of blood to keep it that way. They will do it for you, and then they will do it for their own lovers, and if they don’t have the same sentiments, that love is not true, and Simon will not give his blessing.

Everything else is trivial. He knows this, understands it, because history repeats itself. It is cyclical, and you are right. Kings come and go. Sons die to other sons, fathers make bad decisions, and crowns are passed to bastards and back again, until lineage is merely spectacle and power changes hands often enough to lose generational merit. There is one thing that remains, and it is what you do while you are on earth, while you are standing on the ground you were born on. Even faiths change; when men find it suitable, they change the rules, and then you worship a different God, so Simon sees no point in staying loyal to any of it.

Instead, he is true to what he knows. To what he can see and what he can feel. With John, he remembers being a young man, fighting alongside him. He follows John, to an extent, because he knows what it is like to share blood with him on a muddy hill and take an arrow for him.

With you, time stands still. He saw you in a room, and he had to have you, and he brought nations to ruin to make certain no one would bat an eye when he asked for your hand. He saw you in a dream, too–he saw you laying in his bed of furs, wearing nothing but a tiara of his making, wet between the thighs because that is how it’s meant to be. He recognized you when he saw you that first time, and he doesn’t know how, but saying no to you, really saying no, will change that vision, and he couldn’t bear that.

Your voice echoes. You’re moaning, overstimulated, but he doesn’t stop. The hair around his cock rubs your clit too many times, and when you come around him, you’re a shaking, withering thing, back bowed and nipples pebbled. Your toes curl as you cry from the starry-eyed, hot pleasure, but he keeps moving, chasing something in the distance that he can taste, so close.

Yes, Simon ignored his king. Yes, Simon did not ignore you. Yes, Simon admits, he came when you called, and he doesn’t feel bad about it, he doesn’t care how it seems. He would do it again if he had the chance. John could give him the same answer as you in every timeline, but he will only move if the command comes from you, and yes, Simon knows it makes him a liability, but crowns come with costs, and this is the one John must pay.

Simon will fight any of John’s enemies, but he won’t fight fate. He won’t fight what has already been seen, and he won’t fight what he already knows will happen.

With Simon’s cock in your mouth, you can make him deliver on promises. Sucking on the girth of him, you can make him an honest man. Taking inside of your mouth what you can swallow, you can make Simon do your bidding, and it is a hard lesson that John learns.

“Do this for me,” you slobber against the underside of his cock, and Simon relents.

“Make me happy,” you say, swirling your fingers against your puffy pussy, and Simon kneels with an open mouth.

“Just this once,” you whisper with his cum on your tongue, and Simon seals his choice with his hands on your tits and the taste of himself in his mouth.

When you make eyes with John across the low lights of the throne room, he can’t help the way he admires you. You stand beside Simon, looking the essence of nobility and reverence in another intricate silver and blue dress. The train of your skirt glitters with delicate jewels hand sewn into the fabric, and the headpiece you wear adorns a skull insignia. Your corset has been tied just right, thanks to Simon’s hand, and your own fingers are clasped between his. Your corset and jewels are of exquisite detail–one of the newest designs from Paris, structured and elegant and accentuating every curve of soft skin.

You glow in the room. His wife must be wearing a dress just as expensive, probably more, and yet his eyes (and everyone else’s) cannot help but follow you. Your own eyes won’t leave Simon; you flutter your lashes whenever he looks down at you, big smile on your face, and even when there are people curtsying and bowing to you and giving Simon their gratitude between bites of cake and glugs of wine, your attention never really strays. 

John feels inadequate in his own fortress; suddenly, red and gold sicken him, and England tastes sour in his mouth.

In a few generations, John’s house will likely fall. He will make heirs that will fail him, he knows this. In a few centuries, his family will not sit in the same place, but a Riley will remain right where they are supposed to be. Banners of blue and silver will always fly. If Simon does not make sure of that, then you will.

It’s what happens when you force women like you to their knees. When they grow up invisible, always in the shadows, forgotten and sold to the next man who will pay a higher price, it’s what you learned to do. It’s all you’ve ever known, to make the best out of something terrible.

Simon is the same, in that sense. You understand him in a way his king will never be able to. Simon has nothing, and neither do you, and Simon was stepped on and berated and tortured to the point of no return. It is why blood does not scare him and why death doesn’t come knocking. Time will be the only thing capable of killing him, and everyone that stands up to him learns that when they eat his blade.

In the quiet of the evening, Simon undresses you. He sits behind you on the bed, fingers pinching the bows at your back and unraveling them. He traces your corset, thumb circling over the skull pattern of the belt around the small of your waist, and he tastes something warm in his mouth at the sight of it. You look so beautiful–more beautiful than he’s ever seen you maybe, decorated in his colors and wearing his motif and sitting so pretty.

“You wanna know something…funny?” You ask quietly. Simon finds the ties of your skirts and starts to undo them. He grunts in reply; he might sound standoffish, but you know he’s listening. “John…John made it…he makes it seem like you don’t really listen to him. He implied that…in the face of adversity, you might only listen to me.” You put your hands on the front of your corset to keep it from falling. “Isn’t that funny?”

“Wot’s so funny?”

You swallow, looking down. Your hands fidget, and you take a closer look at the ring you wear, the delicate gold band he gave you not so long ago.

“I…”

“Mmm…might be right, innit?” Simon snickers after a moment. You feel him stand, and you look over your shoulder as he peels his mask off and grins down at you. He tilts his head to the side, and you smile back at him a little. “Do anythin’ for ya. Disobeying a king…” Simon cackles, tearing your corset off, tossing it onto the floor as he walks you backwards. “Ignoring one…” He shrugs, “Oll in a day, love.”

“He can hang you for it,” you whisper. “Cut off your head. Cut off mine.”

Simon lays you back on the bed, spreading you out, climbing over you. You blink up at him, and he leans down, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I would ‘ave seen it. I would know.”

He would have seen it in a dream. It would have come to him in a reflection in a pool of blood on the battlefield. It would have come to him, the voices in his head, he would have heard them amongst screaming, or perhaps in the void that he finds his mind in when he’s between your plush thighs.

You can’t help the smile that graces your face when Simon kisses the curve where your jaw meets your neck. It is fun, you suppose. Fun to control the tides that set the courses of history. It is fun and almost unbelievable that a king bends to the will of one man’s wife just because it solidifies his name.

You wrap your hand around the twine that dangles from Simon’s neck. It twirls around your fingers, easy, solid. Simon’s eyes are dark, and they are yours, and when you smile, so does he, because this is where you are meant to be, forever and always.

“What if I want more?” You ask. Simon hums, low from within his chest, and you run your tongue over your teeth. “Did you see that in your dreams, Simon? Hmm? Do you know what I’m asking for? What it is that I really want?”

Simon smiles. A dark one, with teeth, and you know he hears it. What more means for a duke and his duchess. What more means when you have all the money you could ever want, all the land you could ever need.

What more means when you have climbed your way to the top and still desire more. More, more, more. There are not many steps left to climb. There are not many places left to take, not much more of the world that can really be yours, but Simon looks ravenous, and Simon looks hungry, and if you fuck him now, you’ll have him right where you want him.

When you tug on what hangs around his neck, Simon bends. Simon follows.

[rumisgf]

YOUR BEST EATER ! - JJK EDITION

summary: jjk characters i think can eat pussy the best and who i think would not. that’s really it, i’m telling yall who the munches are. enjoy some pussy eating headcanons :D !

warnings: explicit obviously, black!reader, discussing f!receiving oral, use of the title daddy (once), cursing, slight crack, slander but i’m kidding kinda

GOJO SATURO - 10/10

✧ he’s sick in the head.

✧ i hate him truly. he gives good head and he knows it.

✧ he loves making it messy, he wants your arousal all over his face

✧ he wants it on the sheets by the time he’s finished

✧ he also likes making you cum multiple times, so don’t expect mercy

✧ he gets a kick out of watching you squirm and writhe under his touch

✧ and not only is his tongue magical, but he knows all the methods to make you scream for him

✧ he uses fingers and all that

✧ he’s definitely made you squirt from head

✧ the type of head he gives will have you soaked before he even fucks you

✧ yk the song that’s like ‘i’m the type of guy that’s gon eat it ‘fore i put it in?”

✧ yeah, that’s gojo

“one more, princess? hm?”

“yesss- please ‘toru!”

“good girl.. want you to make a mess all over my tongue”

GETO SUGURU - 9/10

✧ he’s a good contender for sure

✧ he’ll act like he doesn’t want to at first but it’s all a facade

✧ he can’t let you know he’s a fiend too early of course

✧ but when he finally does, boy are you surprised

✧ toe curling. jaw dropping.

✧ he’ll have you creaming on his fingers while he sucks on your clit like a madman

✧ it hurts so good and you never want him to stop

✧ and he licks your clit so attentively, he looks at each facial expression you make

✧ he draws perfect circles with his tongue

✧ it’s definitely not his strong suit (but shit that’s saying something)

✧ i’ll give him his flowers though for sure

✧ he gives the type of head that has you aching for him to put his dick inside you already

“taste so fuckin’ good. love this pussy, baby- ‘s all mine.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO - 8/10

✧ he’s one of those guys who swears up and down he doesn’t eat pussy

✧ he does.

✧ first time he went between your thighs, you thought you saw god

✧ whenever your hips lift up and you start squirming from all the pleasure, he presses them back into the mattress

✧ and he edges you while giving you head

✧ he’ll have you screaming then stop just to hear you beg for him to let you cum

✧ he’s still a sadist at the end of the day, he can’t let you have too much fun

✧ either that, or he overstimulated you until there’s literal tears streaming down your cheeks

✧ he loves making you cry from head

✧ if he’s not having you gag on his dick as he throat fucks you, this is his other way to see tears stain your pretty face

✧ whenever you squirt from him giving you head, he feels very satisfied with himself

✧ he can never give head for too long tho because the sight of you dripping pussy right in front of his eyes makes him so hard it hurts

“stay fuckin’ still brat. let me taste this pussy.”

SUKUNA RYOMEN - 2/10

✧ he doesn’t eat pussy.

✧ yeah, sorry.

✧ he’s a literal demon idk what else was expected

✧ in all seriousness, he’s not too fond of giving head

✧ but, he does enjoy fingering you though

✧ his fingers are often plunged into your hole while make out sessions and it’s his go-to for foreplay

✧ he’ll have you on his lap and play with your cunt until you’re crying

✧ and if you have toys, he loves overstimulating you with him

✧ this is often how he punishes you (sometimes he just feels like it, though)

✧ but long story short, this man will NOT be your best eater

“ry- fuck! daddy please- can’t take it!”

“nuh uh, this is what you wanted doll. let me take care of ya.”

NANAMI KENTO - 10/10

✧ if gojo’s not your best eater, nanami’s definitely your best eater

✧ he’s got every tongue and finger combo down packed

✧ he gets down. he do NOT play.

✧ he’s definitely a pleasure dom at heart so he believes you deserve good head from him

✧ and he also doesn’t talk at all while giving you head

✧ it’s almost amazing how focused he gets

✧ his form of communication is looking up at your fucked out face, filling his ego

✧ he likes eating you at after he fucks you

✧ that way he can fuck his cum back into you with his tongue and taste your arousal at the same time

✧ it’s also a way to overstimulate you that he can be slick with

✧ whenever you’re in missionary, he always has your legs bent to your ears so he can pull out and lap at your pussy whenever he wants to

✧ it’s a rush getting fucked into oblivion then getting your soul snatched as he slurps up all your juices

✧ he also enjoys how wet he makes you, so you taste so good when he does

✧ he spits on it. that’s all i have to say.

“k-kento.. so good..”

CHOSO KAMO - 11/10

✧ OHHHH LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING

✧ you thought i wouldn’t put him above gojo and nanami? you’re wrong.

✧ this man is a munch. he’s a fiend. it’s pathetic.

✧ he’ll eat pussy on his knees, matter of fact he loves it

✧ he loves when you trap your legs around like yes please don’t let him breathe he might nut right then and there

✧ he whimpers while eating you out.

✧ he won’t say it, but he likes spelling out words in your clit

✧ he mostly just spells his name

✧ and he loves how you taste, so he can eat you out forever

✧ you have to tap out for him to stop because he really has no self control when it comes to eating you out

✧ and please, sit on his face.

✧ and actually sit on it. this man doesn’t wanna be able to breathe

✧ he’ll leaves fingerprint marked bruises on your ass cheeks from gripping them as he works his tongue from under you

✧ him eating you out always has you squirting before he even fucked you yet

✧ he also enjoys tasting the mix of yours and his cum after he fucks you

✧ choso gives head so good you wanna have his kids

“babyyy- ‘m c-cumming!”

“f-fuck, taste so good baby. need you so bad.”

@ rumisgf

[archangeldyke-all]

Hear me out, comforting Sevika.

She just lost the closest thing to her best friend, has to take over his responsibilities, and take over Jinx duties plus the addition of Isha. Poor baby is stressed.

Imagine this. After giving Jinx the guest bedroom, setting Isha up in the same room(I feel like she would want to sleep on the floor, she seems like that type of kid.) Gently coaxing Sevika into the bath, washing her hair with the expensive shampoo and conditioner that made her hair the texture she loved so much. Then settling with her in the bed, bringing out the protein infused Peanut MnMs(I feel like she would be a protein fiend.) and setting her favorite record on before cuddling until you both fall asleep.

Just a moment of peace among a war, I dunno I need to hug her rn,

oh yeah i love this soft shit like this

gonna combine this with two more asks (just to spoil the shit outta her hehe)

@lushh-s3vik4s: Can we hear about the stories when sevika was younger? Like the trouble she got into 🤭 like reader and sev just chilling on the couch and she starts telling reader about what she did as a child 🤭🤭

and @cewl-casper: PLEASE ANYTHING WITH EATING SEVIKA OUTTTTT. The new episodes got me feeling some type of way. I NEED TO BE BRUIED BETWEEN HER THIGHS

men and minors dni

isha eats four servings of dinner, then passes out on jinx's shoulder, snoring and drooling at the dinner table.

you chuckle, shaking your head at the pair. "seems like you've been jinxed, jinx." you say.

she huffs. "she won't leave me alone."

"'s the same thing silco said when he first took you in." sevika mumbles across the table.

jinx rolls her eyes, but you can see a tiny smile pulling at her lips.

you gently nudge her foot under the table, pulling her wandering eyes to you. "tell me the stories about sev as a kid." you request. sevika groans beside you, and jinx grins.

"you never told her?!" jinx asks, pointing at sevika with glee. sevika buries her face in her hands, and you chuckle, kissing her forehead.

"it's fuckin' embarrassing--"

"she'd go up to piltover dressed in this frilly, ruffly dress, find the biggest mansion she could, then she'd put on the waterworks, tears and snot all over. when someone would come outside to see what's wrong she'd say she was lost. 'course the suckers would take her in and call the enforcers-- but by the time they got off the horn she'd be gone-- and so would as much of their silver as she could carry." jinx giggles.

you grin, looking over at your wife. "how old were you?"

"i dunno. i started when i was five but i kept at it until i was like twelve." she says with a shrug. you laugh.

"she tried to teach me and vi how to do it when we were kids, but i could never get the crying right, and vi refused to wear the dress." jinx chuckles.

you smile, kissing sevika's cheek and stacking the plates on the table. "jinx, i want the two of you to stay here until shit up top blows over." you say. sevika huffs beside you, but she doesn't say anything to revoke the offer. jinx pouts, her pink eyes fluttering back and forth as she tries to think of a way to worm her way out of the request. "where the fuck else are you gonna go?" you ask. "half of zaun is looking to turn you in for some cash, and there's a fuckin' team of enforcers gassing the streets to find you. c'mon. take it as my thank you for fixing sevika's new arm."

finally, jinx relents with a gusty sigh. "fine. we'll stay." she says. sevika grunts and takes the plates to the kitchen. when she's gone from sight, jinx whispers. "thank you."

you smile and shoot the kid a wink, walking to the living room to make up the pull out couch for her and isha. you'll make them both bathe tomorrow-- tonight, they need sleep.

isha doesn't stir as jinx settles her under the covers, and before you can even turn the lights off for her, jinx is passed out beside isha, one of her arms curled around the girl.

you chuckle, pulling the blankets over jinx's shoulders before heading to the bathroom.

sevika stumbles in as you're drawing up a bath.

"get in." you gesture to the tub. sevika raises an eyebrow at you.

"you're awfully bossy tonight." she says, slowly working to strip her clothes. you chuckle, holding her hand as she steps into the tub, then gently helping her arrange her new arm so it doesn't get in the water.

sevika sighs, her eyes falling shut and her shoulder slumping as the steam and bubbles envelop her.

"who were you all fighting?" you ask, dragging a stool over to the tub.

sevika chuckles. "vi's an enforcer now. jinx wanted to kill 'er. didn't work."

you snort and shake your head, starting to lather up a washcloth. "poor jinx." you say. sevika quirks an eyebrow at you and you shrug. "lost silco and found out her sister joined the force that killed her own parents within the span of a week. same week she became a mother, too." you say.

sevika snorts a bit.

"isha's a cute kid, eh?" she asks. you chuckle.

"you're a sucker. 's so cute." you tease, leaning forward and kissing her head as you scrub her back.

sevika sighs, leaning into your touch. "you take such good care'a me." she whispers.

you chuckle. "'s sorta my job isn't it? 's why you gave me my ring?"

sevika's responding grin is dazzling, her flesh arm reaching out of the tub to grab your own, fondling the ring she'd given you so many years ago. "guess so, yeah." she whispers, kissing your hand.

you take your time washing her off, massaging her shoulders and scrubbing her scalp, waiting until she's sunk down so far under the water's surface that only her nose is sticking out before pulling the plug and helping her get up.

sevika's sleepy while you dry her off and herd her toward your bedroom, and she doesn't question it when you push her down into bed before dressing her up in her jammies.

it's only when you spread her legs and kneel down in front of her that she starts to catch on, a smirk forming on her lips. "we're doing the whole baby-making thing wrong. think we're supposed to fuck before the kid shows up." sevika jokes.

you snort, kissing up her thigh toward her cunt. sevika spreads her legs farther, sighing as she relaxes back on her elbows. "think you can stay quiet?" you ask, your breath puffing on her cunt. sevika nods down at you with stars in her eyes.

"yeah. i'll bite the pillow." she says, dragging your pillow down the bed to rest beside her.

you smirk, reaching up to pinch her chin and drag her down for a quick kiss, before pushing her down to lay on the bed and burying your face between her thick, powerful thighs.

sevika sighs, pulling the pillow up over her mouth as you start licking long stripes up her cunt, groaning at the taste of her.

there's nothing quite like taking sevika apart like this. she's so fucking strong, her thighs are so powerful-- she could crush you in an instant if she wanted to.

but she doesn't. instead, she lets herself melt into the mattress, giving herself over to you completely. it's a huge show of vulnerability and trust, and it turns you on immensely.

you suck her clit into your mouth and sevika squeaks, her thighs twitching in pleasure. you chuckle against her, sinking your nails into her hips to pull her closer to you. fuck, you could die happy right here, drowning between her legs as she muffles her groans into your pillow.

"you take such good care of everybody, sev." you pull away to whisper, kissing her cunt as you speak. "you gonna lemme take care of you now?" you ask. sevika nods, reaching down with her flesh arm to grab your hand. you chuckle, intertwining your fingers with hers. "fuck. i love you so fuckin' much baby. could die happy between your legs." you sigh before ducking back down and shoving your tongue inside her.

sevika's back arches off the bed, one of her legs hooking around your shoulder to pull you closer to her. you're sloppy and loud as you eat, sucking and slurping on her like she's a ripe peach. you pray to every god you know that jinx and isha are still sleeping, because with the way you're groaning and moaning into her cunt, you're certain you can be heard through your flimsy bedroom door.

sevika's whole body tenses up, her nails dig into the back of your hand, and she cums with a muffled "love you!"

you groan as you lick up her cum, happy to keep eating to your heart's content. sevika has different plans though, and she squeaks as she shoves your face away from her pussy.

you crawl up onto bed beside her, smiling at her as she tries to catch her breath. sevika blushes a little at the sight of you. "you're covered in my cum." she whispers.

"aren't i lucky?" you ask.

sevika snorts, then pulls you in for a kiss. "not as lucky as me." she says against your lips. you grin.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz

[callooopie]

Modern!Davos Blackwood headcannons (pt. Smut)

— NSFW edition—

It can’t be unlearned. I’ve known the warmth of your doorways — It Will Come Back // Hozier

I haven’t written NSFW in a bit ~3~. Bear with me while I try not to blush and cringe at my own writing T~T (also that new episode.. rip MY queen Rhaenys dude. It actually made me so bummed it ruined my night.) Also do I still use the Benjicot tags or is he now his own character now that he’s been mentioned finally ~3~ ?!

cw— NSFW, smut detailed to the best of my abilities. Minors do not interact. Interact with this and I’ll punch you so hard your ancestors will feel it I’ll-

< added one (1) new headcannon since posting >

Cool, calm, confident. That’s what Davos was. Surely it would translate to the bedroom too—it does not. He’s shy the first time around. Very much. Silent, rigid; his eyes simply darting up and down your body as you undress in front of him. The only sign that he’s there in the head is his hands gripping the comforter in his fists tightly. Before you begin, please give him a few kisses and reassuring smiles. Sitting in his lap and doing so does wonders. Run your fingers through his hair in a calming manner too.

You might have to pause, because he’s genuinely trembling out of excitement and anticipation that he cannot concentrate or continue without calming down. He just loves your touch! Any touch, all touch. Your fingers grazing against his skin, it’s like nicotine. Press your nose against his, laugh softly and kindly against his lips, and tell him it’s alright—you can wait a minute. His hands (shaking slightly still) will find their way to your hips soon enough.

Before you two experience each other more often. Before ANY sexual encounters, with you or not with you. He is the type of guy… to not know where the clit is. It’s a sad truth. You have to sit him down and literally point to where it is. No pants, sitting on the bed with your legs spread. It’s not even sexual at this point, you’re just letting him ooo and ahh at your pussy as you tell him what feels good and how to make it feel good. A lesson in anatomy that has him going (“…really?!”). Don’t worry. He gets with the program right away. When he figures shit out you won’t ever let him leave the house ever again.

If he’s already on the more experienced side and/or after you’ve both gotten comfortable with one another after months or a couple years; he is a fiend, a menace. He wants his sheets drenched by the time you’re both done. He wants you passed out, unconscious. If you aren’t being carted off to the emergency room after sex he feels he isn’t doing it right.

Speaking of.. He has sent you to the ER before. A bruised cervix that sent searing pain whenever you walked, burning aches in your muscles and bones from being bent or pulled around that. It’s something that’s never happened before and worried you enough to make Davos drive you to the urgent care. Embarrassment and a hint of disbelief burned on your face as the doctor awkwardly told you your diagnoses, splitting their gaze between you and Davos. The latter had the biggest grin on his face as he sat there like an innocent man. His apologies are a farce don’t believe it.

Needs you to sit on his face. Dude gets off on eating you like you’re his last meal, and makes it messy too.. Doesn’t matter when (or where..) but if you are not straddling his head, laying her full weight onto him—that’s basically like breaking his heart. He wants to die by your thighs that’s his goal. He is the type to grab and scratch at your thighs, squeezing flesh as he tries to pull you closer to his lips and tongue. Sometimes his hand leaves your thigh to deal with his own hardened cock—muffled and incoherent whines leaving him as he devours you sloppily and breathlessly. If he’s eating you out while you’re laying on your back; he will be pathetically grinding against the mattress.

Suck him off under his desk. Quietly slip underneath the wooden desk, he’s too focused on whatever he’s doing to even notice you undoing the string of his sweats anyways. Once he dies in-game and looks down he gets the memo, silently helping you slide them off of him as he talks to his team. Whatever you do, do not drag your tongue up from his base to his tip—especially when he’s comming to his teammates. He’ll be talking normally and then let out a nearly pornographic whine. If you choose to not be a menace off the bat and simply slide his cock in and out of your mouth; he’ll go blank in the head. He starts to mess up, mouth going slack as he splits his attention between the game and you on your knees between his legs with your tongue wrapping around his tip and licking off whatever leaking pre-cum you find. It’s the fastest he’s ever won (or lost) a game.

It’s edge or be edged in his world. Loves it when you tell him he can’t cum. A sloppy half-grin plastered on his face as you ride him. His hands holding your hips as he sits up, looking up at you from where he places his head by your chin. He’s gonna bitch and moan about it as usual, but slowly devolves into loud begging. His speech is slurred as his eyes stare up at you like your god who has the power to grant him that divine release he’s been denied for an hour.

He loves fucking you against the wall. It gives him a reason to show off his arms and muscles—and it feels good. If you have comments about your weight, your body, how will he hold you up, etc. Leave ‘em at the door, Davos does not care. He goes to the gym for this reason baby! To be able to lift you easily and hold you against the apartment wall as he pounds into you. His hands digging into the skin of where your thighs and ass meet. Wrap your legs around his waist, tangle your fingers into his hair. You’re not leaving until there’s a puddle of your arousal and cum underneath you.

Switch. He’s a switch. Let the world (and himself) believes he’s a top, only you will know the truth. And the truth is that he loves when you take control. Tie him up, slap him around, ride him till he’s crying and drooling from either edging or overstimulation—and then keep going some more. But also remember that he can easily overpower you, pinning you down to the bed or against a wall as he thrusts in and out of you with loud groans and words of praise. His hand holds your head down as he fucks you from behind, fingers grasping onto your hair as he rambles in a pleasured high. Davos is the type to tear underwear too, so be careful about that as well..

Davos is gentle, Davos is rough. No matter what, he’s mean about it. And he’s very vocal about it too. He’ll ask if you’re enjoying yourself, if you’re liking how rough he’s fucking your cunt right now—speaking of.. can you hear how wet you are right now, it’s almost embarrassing no? Ohhh, you like being used by him? Well.. he likes your sloppy pussy too—don’t worry. Made just for him, all for him. If he’s gentle he asks if you’re doing okay between the soft kisses he places on your neck and face. His face will nuzzle against your neck, soft whispers of how you feel entering your ear between groans. You’re just a sweetheart after all, aren’t you? So soft, so good, just for him. He likes how you feel around him, how soft your skin feels under his hands. So beautiful, so cute. Don’t you like how you can feel all of him as he thrusts into you slowly? Can you feel every vein and ridge? ‘Cause he can feel every squeeze and shudder from your walls darling.

Biter. I’ve got him pinned—Davos is a biter. Bites at your nipples before swirling a tongue around them and sucking harshly. Licks your ear before biting and tugging on it. He’s a bastard and bites your clit, a low chuckle coming from him as you yelp (he kisses it after, of course). Hickeys line your skin from your neck to your lower abdomen. Bite marks, prominent bite marks, are scattered across your body. No matter what, it’ll be on your neck mostly as well. From the front or the back, a bite mark will find its way to your neck. He just gets so into it! Dicking you down so roughly he just needs to latch his teeth onto your skin hard enough to draw blood. What? No he did not lick the droplet of blood up you must be imagining—

…car sex—I’m sorry I said it. At night when you both are skating or if he’s driving around with you. Sometimes you just end up in an empty parking lot.. the windows are fogged up and there’s music playing faintly, not that you care or really hear it as you listen to his moans. His hands holding your hips or waist as you slowly bounce on his cock while he sits in the driver seat. Bonus if you hold the thin necklace he wears between your teeth as you grind yourself down onto him.

Added! HE’S INTO SHOTGUNNING. Absolutely, how did I forget such a thing. Happens when you’re riding him. It’s a lazy night; him sitting in a chair, a cigarette between his fingers as you moan and whimper loudly. His other hand remains on your ass, guiding you up and down as he lets his head fall back briefly with a low grunt from his throat. He sits back up to take a drag from the cigarette, his other hand moving up from your ass to the back of your head (he gives you a parting slap to your butt). He presses your face closer to his and you instinctively part your lips, letting him blow smoke into it. He does talk you through that like he’s talking you through your orgasm, soft words of encouragement and guidance as he watches you blow it back out. It ends in him kissing you and wrapping one arm tightly around your waist as he starts to thrust up into you roughly. “In.. and out.. atta girl. There we are. Aren’t you just a good listener, my lovely lady?”

[signedkoko]

MMM OKAY OKAY OKAY the brainrot is getting to me and I adore you’re writing, so forgive me if this a bit all over the place!!

Might I order some headcanons (or a full oneshot, if you want ofc) for Alastor and Vox (separate) with a gn partner who is a martial art fiend and seems mostly powerless, but is sort of like a siren? As in, not only can they put subtle amount of power into their voice when talking to persuade or disorient someone, but they can also do a Banshee type scream!

Thank you so much and have a wonderful day/night!

Alastor | Vox X Reader [Romantic]

In which your powers aren't all that obvious to the naked eye, and is hidden in your voice. Reader is genderneutral.

You were just another face at the Hazbin Hotel

You helped with anything Charlie, asked, much like an assistant, and focused plenty on the decoration of the hotel

From what he saw, you really weren't much to be cornered about

That in itself concerned him

Every demon had their abilities, but according to you and the others, you were just a normal sinner

But no normal sinner would end up in a place like this for no reason

Alastor always pushed, joked, and teased you about being powerless, almost as if he were taunting you to reveal the truth—to reveal that all along you'd been lying

But you never broke

Not like he minded all that much; you were still lovely to be around, and you weren't as much of a mess as everyone else that wandered the dreary hotel

Even as the two of you grew closer than close, you never gave so much as a hint

He could tell you had something hidden, but at this point he was convinced it was your past or something else beyond your abilities

Until the day a group of demons attacked, looking for him

You'd never been overly protective of the overlord; Alastor could handle himself and hundreds of others at once if he needed to

But they were threatening the hotel, your friends, and your lover

So you stopped Alastor in his tracks, opening a window by the front door and shoving your front half out

The sound that ensued was nothing short of horrifying

Like thousands of layers of screaming voices begging to be released became unchained, and each individual in front of you collapsed

Some had bleeding ears; others were running in desperation as the chorus of voices continued to echo in their minds

Thankfully, you were a great target, because when you turned around, everyone in the hotel was fine

Well, fine in terms of hearing, but they did not look mentally well

Alastor laughs it off and claps, citing how he obviously knew all along that you were so powerful

You'll be in for a long night of explaining to him everything you were hiding

You didn't like to show off your ability that much

It was horrifying and could damage a lot of people if you didn't consider your words carefully enough

So you only sang; it held a bit of power behind it, but at the very least it didn't harm anyone

It just caught attention and helped you get through another day in hell

Singing is what led to you meeting Vox, who frequented the club where you sang on some evenings

He hired you to sing at the club the Vees owned, which meant you ran into him a lot more often and got along extremely well

You revealed your ability to him, but swore off ever using it against people unless necessary

What did he care? Ability or not, you did a great job on stage, and that was all he asked of you as a friend and partner

One evening, during one of your performances which he attended, someone broke into the club

They had guns, and they looked ready to shoot

What else could you have done when they beelined towards Vox?

" Die. "

Your voice came through the mic crystal clear, and in a moment everyone holding guns dropped straight to the floor

There was no pulse, and that evening Vox learned a lot more about you than he had previously

When you are finally private and he has the chance to say anything

" Listen, dear, light of my life—that was hot as fuck, but my patrons are scared shitless right now. "

Author's Note - I love these two, they are too cocky to have an s/o with cool powers but thats okay... Thank you so much for requesting, Damien!!! Love seeing you around 🖤

[mywifealhaitham]

pre release boothill relationship headcanons!!!

a/n: I'm fiending off crumbs... I've wanted to read some x reader of him but theres none so I gotta write it myself. I hope the other 4 boothill fans enjoy

warnings: gn!reader, like 2 gendered pet names (pretty girl/boy), most of this is written with bias because we don't have alot to go off, obviously written prerelease, when we actually get content of him I'll definitely be rewriting

LEAKS AHEAD!!!

bc: Valentine_DD_ on twt

- Boothill is described as a righteous person if his bottom line doesn't get crossed, so he definitely treats you good. probably more on the protective side when it comes to you, he's probably not afraid to use his gun if someone is threatening you.

- and believe me he's intimidating. from his overall tough and "unruly" cowboy look to his mechanical body it leaves enemies just a little challenged. he lowers his voice too and probably has a more fierce look in his eyes too. after any threats have been delt with he probably turns to you and turns into the sweetest thing ever, a wide grin across his face and his hands on your cheeks peppering you with small kisses.

- Its said he's a bit sophisticated due to his experiences so I'd like to imagine sometimes he charms you with facts and details about other planets or just genuinely sharing some tips and tricks he's picked up from other cultures. he's also a person who can get along with others pretty well but he can easily give strangers an impression he's selfish and is a bad person.

- again this kinda feeds into he's basically you'd guard dog... but I mean who wouldn't want to be saved by a handsome and sweet cowboy. despite his unpredictable personality and looks he's a huge gentleman for sure. always opens doors and pulls out chairs for you, makes sure your behind him and okay if any danger approaches and practically listens to your every command (lowkey giving off my girl and I don't argue she tells me to shut up and I do)

- one part I'm so excited to see is what they mean by he's illiterate and using metaphors. it's probably just him using slang but it's still kinda cute. I feel like his cheesy and strange metaphors turn into pick up lines when talking to you. perhaps he'll pull a "did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" or something cheesier. Definitely a huge nickname guy, almost never uses your real name. I'm guessing he'd use stuff like doll, sugar, baby, pretty girl/boy and more teasing names. heavy on doll and sugar and just imagine him saying it in a deep southern accent... 😍 kicking my feet. also I imagine he loves making you giggle by not cursing (because he literally cant) and normally he'd get pissed if someone laughed at him like that if it's you he doesn't mind at all.

- that's pretty much it for like analyzing the leaks I saw but now the stuff up ahead is just bias yapping because I always project

- HE DEFINITELY IS A HAND KISSER. greets you by getting on one knee, holding his hat to his chest and kissing your hand. makes eye contact with you too and does that toothy smirk of his IM SWOONINGGG

- maybe he's a dancer! pulls you into his arms and places his hat on your head when a good song plays in taverns. even if your clueless on any type of dances then he'll pull you along to the beat whispering Instructions in your ear.

- gets so lovesick when drunk it drives everyone mad. any folks he's sitting with at a bar gets a whole speech on his wonderful beautiful darling who he owes his live and would happily die by their hand. and may God save you when you come pick him up because he'll be all over you. Immediately he wraps a arm around your waist as he slurrs his hello as he proceeds to tell you he loves you like 40 times. besides the mass amounts of kisses you'll receive once you both reach a private spot he let's some feelings that he might be too shy to share normally, holding your face as he calls you his pretty girl/boy and how he's so lucky to have you.

- honestly not the best for cuddling however unfortunately he needs to cuddle you to sleep so goodluck! his metal body isn't completely uncomfortable it's just cold alot. he tries to get around this by literally preheating himself with blankets before you go to bed.

very bad boothill brainrot atm... only a few more weeks until we get official content 😭 everyone hold hands we got this

here's the actual leaks if anyone is curious ^_^

[capr1pengu1n]

Hi! Hihihi! big fan here!

I am fiending for something mouth watering, torturing, jaw dropping smutty fun with our boy from Assault on Arkham. Female reader please. Maybe she's a nurse working a shift at Arkham or a therapist or care tech? I'm just seeing total domination, daddydom/zaddy type vibes. But feel free to do whatever you feel.

Thank you for your time and consideration!!

Tata~!

Corrupting the young with your uncivil tongue

Summary: While on shift at Arkham Asylum, what should be a routine check on an injured inmate turns into something a whole lot more.

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader (no use of y/n), Assault on Arkham!Eddie, dom/sub dynamics, praise and degradation, choking, rough sex, fingering, face fucking

Words: 4.4k

Notes: Thank you so much sweetheart, you're too kind! This gave me an excuse to rewatch his scenes on yt (mgg really is one of the perfect voice actors for him, even with his sometimes dodgy vocal deliveries)

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Being a nurse meant seeing the truly ugly side of Arkham Asylum; the dangerous patients always being one movement away from lashing out at times. You didn't mind your job, in fact it was rather rewarding at times to help those you could, being able to feel as if you were making a difference in this cesspool of a city.

But many of the inmates you knew you couldn't trust, dangerous criminal masterminds who were constantly using Gotham City as a battleground for their many wars with the batman. And you knew deep down that The Riddler was one of those men. But still, he'd been nothing but...kind.

Well, maybe kind is a little bit too strong of a word. But he'd always been one of your better patients, never giving you too much trouble. And you couldn't deny the tiny part of you that lit up when you saw his name on your rota, no matter how much you pushed the feeling down in the crevices of your mind. His snarky smile would always be waiting for you when you administered the pills that he most likely just hid under his tongue, or to patch him up whenever his big mouth got him into trouble.

It seems today was one of those days, as you made your way to the rather empty infirmary and saw Edward laying in bed, flicking through a book without a care with one hand, the other handcuffed to the side. The doctor that saw to him had been rushed off his feet, rumblings of a mass riot causing all of the staff to be more overworked that usual, if that was even possible for a place like this. Still, you stood by his bed and closed the privacy curtain.

"There you are sweetheart, I was beginning to believe i'd been forgotten about. A distressing thought, i'll have you know."

You can't help but laugh softly at his dramatics, as he lowers the book to his side to give you a look at his face. A cut was across his cheek, not overly deep.

"Ah yes, this. Well that'll teach me not to display my mental superiority at dinner time, lest i'm slashed again. I really should have enacted some sort of revenge before one of the idiotic guards blundered in."

"Does it hurt?"

"Nothing more than a scratch, my dear."

There's that smile again, self-satisfied and smug, but with a hint of something else. He adjusts himself so he's sat more upright, watching with sharp eyes as you look through his medical chart, not missing the slight confusion on your features.

"Does anywhere else hurt?"

"If i say my chest, will I get to remove this horrid jumpsuit?"

You flush in spite of yourself, laughing softly at his insinuation which delights him greatly. Placing the chart down, you look back at him as he adjusts himself yet again.

"I see no reason why you'd need to stay, I can call for you to be escorted back to your cell now."

"Yes about that," he starts, looking around in a dramatic manner, "why is there no guard here anyway? Don't tell me they hardly see me as a threat? I'll have you know I-"

Shaking your head, you interrupt him. "No no, there's rumors of a riot starting. Everyone is on high alert. And it seems that there's a mistake on your chart...it says you have a broken leg. I doubt they thought you'd get very far."

The momentary annoyance of being interrupted dissipated when he heard your words, and he lets out a bark of a laugh.

"Oh the ineptitude of these fools truly never fails to amuse me." With a smirk, he tilts his head as he looks at you before continuing. "But i'm sure a girl like you wouldn't have made a mistake like that."

At his praise, you can't help the flush of pride that swirls in your chest despite who he is, as you smile softly. Pleased with the way you respond, he reaches up and gently tugs you closer to the bed by your arm.

"Does it take truly so little to flatter you?" he asks, causing you to look away for a moment before he squeezes your arm. "No. Look at me."

You do as he says, looking at his eyes through his glasses, before nodding a little. "I guess not..."

"Pity." he murmurs, looking at your chest unashamedly. "I'd have thought you'd be used to compliments, looking like that."

You feel the embarrassment and excitement bubble up in you at his words, despite your better judgement, despite the fact that a criminal mastermind is flirting with you and you like it. Forcing yourself to clear your head, you glance away yet again.

"Thank you."

"No problem darling."

Before turning to leave, he coughs slightly to get your attention.

"Hold on a moment. You really think it's a good idea to go out there? You said it yourself, a riot could break out at any moment." he declares, his eyes firmly fixed on yours.

"Well...yes. I could always go with the guards, they'd protect me."

"I could protect you." he says without missing a beat, without blinking. The look of shock must be evident on your face as you look at him.

"Why would you do that?"

"Why do I do anything?" he challenges, the rattle of the handcuff cutting through the room.

"...you do things when they benefit you." you say softly, trying to match his gaze.

"Exactly. Or maybe I want to protect the pretty nurse who always turns a blind eye when I don't swallow my pills."

"I-I don't-"

"Don't lie sweetheart, it doesn't suit you."

Hesitating, you glance down to where his hand is cuffed to the bed. This is a bad idea, an awful idea and you know it. But your apprehension is delicious to him, and he leans in as best he can.

"And you like the idea, don't you? Of The Riddler's protection?"

You swallow audibly, not denying his accusation. "I can't...i'm not Harley Quinn or anything, i'm not gonna go running off with a psycho-"

"Don't call me that." he snaps harshly, his tone serious and even making you flinch a little. Upon realising, he clears his throat a little in an attempt to calm down. "I'm not trying to dump you in a vat of acid to prove your devotion darling. I'm simply saying I could protect you."

Upon being under your gaze yet again, he puts on a smirk. "Besides, I'm not blind. The way you look at me is quite different than the way the other dimwitted orderlies do. It's...refreshing."

You release a breath, shaky and slow as you weigh up your options here. If a riot does break out...he probably could protect you. And it's not like he has any reason to harm you, right? Nodding slightly, you try and come up with some pathetic excuse before he interrupts you.

"What time is it?"

Slightly bewildered by the question, you glance at your small watch and reply, "About 7."

He hums, rolling his neck. "Might be a good idea to get me out of these handcuffs sweetheart."

Frowning, you go to ask him why before the power goes out. The room is plunged into darkness, causing you to jump at the sharp noise of the lights going. Frantically you stumble to try and head backwards before you feel a hand grasp at your waist, and suddenly you're pressed against a man's broad chest.

"Okay, I may have lied about needing your help to get out of the cuffs." Edward murmurs, before laughing smugly.

Panic sets in as you scramble to get away from him, but he only laughs harder and uses both hands to hold you still.

"Oh please stop struggling. You know I could overpower you. But I meant what I said darling, I'll protect you." he coos into your ear, and you can feel the satisfaction radiating from his smile in waves as he lets go of your arm.

"Now, be a good girl and barricade the door when the lights come back on."

"How do you know the light's will-"

With a bang, the lights come back on, and on instinct you follow his instructions. Regardless of the morally dubious actions of the serial killer you've found yourself with, you know how bloody Arkham riots can get, so self preservation wins out as you take a chair and push it against the door. Barricading yourself in with The Riddler.

He watches you carefully, half expecting you to make a run for it, but being slightly relieved when you trail back to him. "Good."

"How did you know when the lights would go off?"

"You're a smart girl darling, figure it out."

He must have known about the riot, hell he might have planned it. But what you couldn't understand was...

"You planned the riot, or at least knew. But why aren't..." you pause, as he steps closer, too close, "why aren't you trying to escape?"

He chuckles, lifting his hand to cup your chin. "Oh you naive girl. You think I orchestrated this just to escape? Perhaps I was wrong about you, or perhaps you're just too modest."

Observing the look of realisation on your face, he strokes his thumb along your cheekbone. "You can't taste it until you undress it, what am I?"

You can't deny the hitch in your breath at his, albeit cheesy riddle, which causes him to laugh more. "The answer isn't what you're probably thinking, but it's still an apt description of what I want to do to you."

What he wants to do to you. That's all you can hear rattling away in your brain as you let him stroke your cheek, down to the side of your neck.

"And trust me my dear, I want to do a lot of things to you."

"Like what?" you ask, the words spitting out without processing, but he smirks anyway.

"You want me to tell you? Tell you how much I want to dominate you completely? Have you completely at my mercy, as this whole asylum tears itself apart from the inside on my orders?"

You couldn't suppress the small whimper that escapes your lips even if you tried, as you nod your head. Instead, he moves his hand to wrap around your throat, slender fingers gently squeezing.

"How about I show you?" he rasps out, before slamming his lips against yours. It's all consuming, the way he keeps you still with his grip as his tongue forces it's way into your mouth. He explores every inch, reveling in the small moans he swallows as he uses his other hand to grab your hips, pulling you against him so you can feel the bulge straining against the garish orange jumpsuit.

"Get on your knees." he growls out against your lips, and you drop obediently. "Good girl, you're learning your place."

Not deterred by his condescending words, you gaze up at him as his fingers fiddle with the zipper of his jumpsuit, freeing himself after a moment. Your eyes immediately dart to his hard cock, watching as he pumps himself a few times and gently rests it on your cheek.

"A man can get certain...urges in a place like this. A lesser man would have probably resorted to his own hand to achieve momentary gratification, but I knew...I knew if I waited, victory would be all the more sweet."

He taps his cock on your lips, and you open and let your tongue gently run along the head. Gritting his teeth, he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls, keeping you still and not allowing you the privilege of tasting him just yet.

"Ask me nicely. Tell me you've wanted me the same way." he demands.

"I've wanted you." you reply, staring up and giving him the most pleading expression you can muster. "I've always been attracted to you, I've always wanted you Edward."

He groans quietly, running his cock along your lips once again, humming appreciatively as you seem to have learnt your lesson in keeping your tongue to yourself.

"I do love you saying my name. But I think a different word is in order, after all, i'm here protecting you."

You know he's desperate for validation, desperate to feel superior and in control, but god you want to give it to him so badly.

"I've always wanted you sir." you ammend.

"That or 'master' will do." he smirks down at you, before tapping his dick against your lips deliberately. Getting the hint, you open up and let him push your head. Luckily he gives you the grace to not shove his whole length down your throat, pushing you halfway before letting you set the pace. You get to work immediately, bobbing your head as you suck, blinking up at him to observe his reactions.

You can't deny he looks stunning, his frown and brow lines relaxing as he lets you service him, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment to truly indulge in your wet mouth. He'd been in Arkham a few weeks now, and if what he said about relieving himself was true, it really had been a while since he felt such carnal pleasure.

As he opens his eyes again, he looks down at you once more, stroking your hair as you moan softly around his cock. While he certainly isn't going to admit it, he's relieved you were so eager to get on your knees for him, happy he got the signals right, happy he wouldn't have to admit that his lust was unrequited, what's he thinking, he's the riddler! Any woman would be lucky to have him, he's a specimen -

His thoughts are stopped when you push further, taking him deeper into your throat before pulling away for breath, taking him in your soft hand and jerking him. He let's out a slightly higher pitched noise, before growling and gripping your hair with both hands.

"Arms behind your back dear, let's see if I was right to choose you."

You do what he instructs, taking a deep breath before he pushes his cock into your willing mouth. This time he doesn't hold back, holding you in place as he thrusts shallowly into your mouth, before pushing deeper. Suppressing the urge to gag, you moan brokenly around him as your fingernails dig into your own arms, willing against your body's natural instinct to put your hands on his thighs and push against him. Instead you behave, letting him fuck your mouth and take his pleasure from you.

The look on your face has him getting close rather quick for his liking, but he's way too desperate to care. Glazed eyes, spit covered lips and chin from where his cock is pushing out your saliva, he thinks you look gorgeous. His one hand remains in your hair as his other grips your jaw.

"So good for me...fuck, almost makes me wish I hadn't had those idiots cut power to the cameras in here. Seeing my favourite nurse choking on my cock..."

He moans softly, cock pulsing as he gets nearer his climax. Rhythm faltering, he desperately ruts into your throat, wanting to cum so badly it almost hurts. All the while he's mumbling and muttering how slutty you are, how much this is usually beneath him, how good your mouth feels until-

"I'm gonna cum, you're gonna, shit, swallow it...swallow it all." he demands, before his hips still as he pumps his cum down your throat. Choking, you do your best to swallow all he gives you before he releases the death grip on your hair. You pull away and gasp shallowly for oxygen.

"What do you say?" he says condescendingly, although you don't miss the laboured breathing that betrays his excitement.

"Thank you." you start, but the firm tap on your cheek gives you the incentive to rephrase, "Thank you sir."

"Better. You know how few people can say they've had the privilege of The Riddler fucking their face?"

Despite how fucked up morally you know it is, you can't help but feel slight pride at his words, knowing that it's you who he chose to sleep with. He tugs you up by the arm, before humming and squishing your cheeks together, tilting your face from side to side as he appraises you.

"How about you lay on the bed." he says, and despite the phrasing, you can infer from his tone that he's not asking. So you do, hearing the cheap infirmary bed creak as you lay down. Outside you can vaguely hear noises, yells and chants mostly, but you try your best to tune it out as Edward makes quick work of ridding you of your nurse uniform. He gives a wolf whistle, smirking shamelessly.

"Not bad at all." he mumbles, which you assume is quite high praise for him, as he gropes your tits roughly. "I knew I wasn't wrong to have been taken by your looks. It's a bonus you have half a brain in there somewhere."

Feeling a little mean, he gives one of your breasts a sharp slap, grinning as you flinch and squirm. He repeats the motion, and again for a third time on the other one, before soothingly massaging the tender skin.

Before long, he can't resist parting your legs to get a good view of your dripping cunt, needy and pulsing after being treated so roughly by him.

"Oh poor thing." he coos, the falseness of his sympathy only adding to your arousal. "Do you need master's help?"

You can only nod pitifully, as he brings his fingers to your clit and circles slowly, as if observing the consequences of his actions. At your hips jerking, he uses his other hand to pin you firmly to the bed, the structure squeaking under the weight. He continues to play with your clit, alternating his pace and rhythm to keep you on edge, never quite allowing you to reach the peak of the satisfaction he could bestow upon you.

"Such a needy hole, look at it. It's just begging to be filled, isn't it?" he asks, to which you nod again. In response, he slaps your cunt harshly. "If i wanted to talk to myself, i'd have simply jerked off in the safety of my isolated cell. Speak."

"Yes, yes I want to be filled." You say quickly, embarrassment fading away to let the desperation uncurl its claws in your mind. Seemingly satisfied, he slowly pushes two fingers into your pussy, barely suppressing the groan at how wet and hot you feel.

Starting to pump his digits, he curls them to press into your g spot, watching as you tense and make soft moans at the sensation. His other hand wraps around your neck, smirking at your wanton desperation.

"So quick and eager to have a criminal's fingers inside of you. And a nurse at that, don't you have a duty of care?" he taunts sadistically, languishing in your shame and embarrassment as he keeps fucking you harshly with his fingers. You try and shake your head, but you can't with how he's choking you ever so slightly; a reminder that your life is in the hands of one of Gotham's most feared supervillians. And your cunt has never been wetter.

But you aren't the only one affected. Edward was never the type of man to be able to go multiple rounds, and age didn't exactly help that fact. But whether it was being in the Asylum, his abstaining from self pleasure, or just you, he was hard as a rock again and itching to know what your pussy might be like around him.

"Please..." you start to beg, slightly dazed from the onslaught of sensations.

"Please what, hm? Please stop? Please fuck me? Oh please I want to be fucked by the greatest intellectual this city has ever known?"

You can hardly digest the intense self importance he's displaying as you nod again as best you can. "Please fuck me sir."

"Getting better, but say it louder. More conviction. I'm not an easy man to please." he threatens, moving his fingers faster, practically bullying the inside of your pussy as he releases the grip on your neck, allowing merciful oxygen to grace your airways.

"Please sir, please fuck me. Please make me yours, your slut. Please." you beg between moans, body tensing.

"I will." he assures you, pulling his fingers out and bringing them to his face to observe your fluids, "but you should know, you became my slut when you so willingly got on your knees for me."

He grabs your hips and pulls you towards him as he kneels firmly on the bed, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it under you. You almost voiced your thanks at the action, before he rubs the head of his cock on your sensitive clit.

"Once more, for good luck."

What an asshole, he doesn't even believe in luck, you think to yourself, but the stimulation on your core was leaving your breathless and needy, so you indulge him.

"Please fuck me master, I need you. I need The Riddler."

Playing into his ego, his persona, almost always works (not that you know that, opting for an educated guess instead) and he rewards you by sinking into your pussy, moaning uncharacteristically higher pitched. Once he bottoms out inside of you, he takes a moment to really take in the scene in front of him, before grabbing hold of your hips and starting to move.

You moan, the fingering causing your cunt to already be sensitive and on fire with urgency as he starts to fuck you. He bends over you, taking his glasses off and placing them at your side before starting to move his hips faster, determined to rid you of any other thought but him.

"That's it, fuck, go dumb on my cock for me." he encourages, as your eyes glaze over. "My dumb little nurse, so willing to spread her legs."

Not being able to deny his accusation, you simply hold on to his arms for dear life as he picks up the pace even more, thrusting into you and watching your cunt soak his cock in your wetness.

"Making such a goddamn mess." he grunts, leaning down and slapping your clit for the sake of it.

You whine at that, body jerking in response as he chokes out a small chuckle. Soothing it, he rubs circles with his thumb in time with his thrusts, content with the noises of pleasure that fall from your lips. Outside, the noise of the riot were obvious now, and he uses it to his advantage.

"What if someone were to see? Would they think i forced myself on you? Or would they see you for what you truly are? A whore who wanted one of her patients to fuck her." he demeans you, and all you can do is attempt to shake your head.

He tuts, leaning so his breath tickles your lips. "I told you, lying doesn't suit you sweetheart."

Perhaps you were a whore, for wanting a man like Edward to make you feel something, but you can't hope to deny that what he's making you feel is good, so damn good.

"I'm a whore." you mumble quietly, before he groans. He feels your walls tightening around him, can feel the way your body is tensing as you near release.

"Say it properly, and i'll let you cum all over The Riddler's cock. How about that?" he says it like he's giving you a gift, something so unbelievable that you should be grateful he even considered it. But either way, you give in.

"I'm a whore, i'm your whore sir." you manage to get out between punishing thrusts, nails digging into the meat of his biceps. "I'm The Riddler's whore."

He moans, slamming into you with conviction. "You're damn right you are."

You're unsure if that meant you had permission to cum, but between his thrusts and his thumb playing with your clit, you knew you couldn't stop it as you cum hard around him. Your back arches, giving him a hell of a sight as he chases his own orgasm brutally.

"Yes that's it, take it. Take what i give you...take my cum, god you're so lucky. So privileged, so-"

He cuts himself off with a groan, mumbling your name as he buries himself completely inside of you as he finishes. You squirm softly at the warmth of the sensation, but not being able to go anywhere due to the death grip he has on your thighs; you're most certainly going to have bruises.

After a few blissful moments, he pulls out, admiring how your cunt flutters around nothing before his cum slowly leaks from your used hole. He gently reaches down and collects some on the tip of his finger, before pushing it back inside, laughing at your overstimulated gasp.

"There. Now wasn't that more enjoyable than running to the guards for help."

Giving him a sweaty nod, he climbs off of you and fixes him jumpsuit, before rolling his shoulders and standing up. You force yourself to sit up a little, watching as he smirks.

"I'm a little ahead of schedule, I confess I was foreseeing a little more convincing on my part for you to let me bed you." he says, uncharacteristically self deprecating, now matter how slight.

"Ahead of schedule for what?" you ask, before your answer is revealed when he picks up an empty chair and smashes the window.

"Oh sweetheart, while I did want to fuck you, did you really think i'd not pass up the opportunity for escape? I think my sabbatical has reached it's conclusion." he announces, walking over and grabbing your wrist to look at your watch. "The morons should have neutralised the guard post by now, if they actually listened to what I had to say."

At your hesitance, he smirks as he lets go of your wrist and leans down to give you a lingering kiss. "Perhaps i'll visit you again, you certainly made quite the impression on me."

At a loss for words, you stutter out a quick "okay" before he turns and begins to climb out the window. Not before turning for one last look at you.

"I really should have left a mark, people need to know you're mine now. Get changed sweetheart, in my estimations you have about ten minutes."

With that, he's gone, and you're left on the bed, cum dripping from your cunt and sweat slowly evaporating from your naked skin. Still, you suppose, he did protect you from the riot.

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(perhaps one day I will include a daddy kink in my writing, but alas I fear today is not that day)

[silverzoomies]

silverzoomiezzz hi hi i was eating my cloudberry ice cream and i dont know why i start to think about peter and then i think about you. and i have a question for you. what do you think peter’s fav snacks that he would save it for you because he wanted you to enjoy and love it as much as he does? this is so silly lol but anyway have a great summer <3

💗oh my gosh, hello anon sweetie !! i'm sorry for answering so late !! i hope your summer has been nice !! it's been pretty decent here, aside from the lame ass humidity.🔥🫠🔥

i'm so honored you would think of me, after thinking of our beloved speedy boy. 💗honestly, i take that as such a huge compliment !!

⚡snacks i think peter maximoff would like (he hoards them, cuz he's the snack hoarding type. ty dofp 💗):

⚡in canon, he hoards hostess snack cakes. specifically the chocolatey, cream-filled kind ⚡and twinkies. dude's got twinkies for two movies in a row ⚡like it's no wonder people assume he's a twinkie fiend ⚡we also see him with so much pepsi and mtn dew ⚡and i know it's just product placement obvi. but he does seem like a mtn dew guy, right? i bet he'd love baja blast. code red too ⚡dk if this counts as a snack, but he'd probably love taco bell. i mean, it's fast. it's cheap. it's addictive. it's easy to indulge in. mans would quote those old taco bell commercials with the chihuahua ⚡sour candy. all of it. gummy worms, airhead x-tremes, sour twists, sour patch kids. tell me i'm wrong. i'm not ⚡he'd make a mess with some fun dip, lemme tell ya ⚡any candy they used to give out on halloween? he'd be addicted to all that shit. he'd love sugary junk. he constantly needs his fix. laffy taffy, nerds, now and laters, skittles, pop rocks, m&m's - you name it, he's into it ⚡imagine the dorito fingers, anon. the cheeto fingers. the takis fingers. do y'all think he'd be more into regular cheetos, or hot cheetos? he reads as a hot cheetos guy to me ⚡he'd slam some icees. slurpees. any kinda syrupy, frozen drink. he mixes all the flavors, sucks it down, and feels no brain freeze ⚡if you took him to carnivals, boardwalks, or amusement parks; he'd put the funnel cake stands out of business ⚡sweets are his kryptonite, really ⚡i personally like to imagine he knows his fair share of international snacks too. since he can zip around the world in a blink. taiyaki. baklava. conchas. tres leches. pirozhki. european chocolate. any and all kinds of street food. he knows all the best 7-eleven instant ramen - and the best toppings for 'em too ⚡i think he'd also go hog wild over a really good steak, y'know? or some barbecue. some ribs. some brisket. all the shmeats !!

⚡snacks i think peter maximoff would save, just so he could share them with you💗:

⚡he wouldn't ⚡correction: he couldn't ⚡c'mon, do you honestly think he'd have the self control? ⚡you're asking him to do the impossible ⚡see, anon, he'd think about saving a yummy treat for you ⚡keyword being think ⚡like, just as he starts to realize he's crushing on you big time ⚡he's guzzling something tasty, when he has the thought: hey...wait a sec! you'd probably really like this!! ⚡but a second later, the treat's already gone. devoured in an instant. whoops! oh well!! ⚡he's just way too impulsive to save anything ⚡like it would have to be out of sight, out of mind ⚡or you'd have to pick from his own, secret stash ⚡because otherwise, he can't hold himself back. he'll gorge any snacks in the nearest vicinity ⚡he'd legit have to wait 'til you were both together. in that moment. if you had a few minutes. he'd be like, "hey. babe. babe. babe. babe. i got somethin' i wanna show you." ⚡he speeds you away for some mind-blowingly good street food, in some country you've never been to, nor heard of ⚡even on valentine's day. he has to snag you one of those heart-shaped boxes of chocolates last minute ⚡that, or he has to hide it from himself. if he doesn't, he'll be lookin' down at an empty box - chocolate all over the corners of his mouth - like "ah, shit."

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

What do you think are Raul Tejadas favorite and least favorite kinks? I think he'd enjoy doing it in his costume 😂

Raul Tejada (New Vegas) NSFW Headcanons

Much like with Cooper Howard, I think that it's been a very, very long time since Raul's been with anyone physically. He's spent a large part of his long life pretty deep in depression and survival mode in a way that I don't think would really lend itself to slinging a ton of dick around the desert, you know? Possible that he may have had a partner or partners when he and his sister were ekeing out a living among the incredibly irradiated remains of Mexico City, but the fact that the place was so overrun with raiders and fiends that Raul felt he had to turn to vigilantism doesn't really seem to lend itself to much romance, either. I think he's rusty and not exactly actively searching for a partner, but love often finds us at the most unexpected times.

Would take a pretty grand gesture of desire, in my opinion, to really convince him that you want that sort of relationship with him. I mean candles, whatever semblance of lingerie you can scrounge up, throwing yourself in his lap and basically begging for him, the whole nine yards. Lay it on thick, tell him how much you want him, how much you care about him, and I think he'll be receptive to getting physical...but he'll be incredulous for a good, long minute first. He's just incredibly beat down after so many hardships throughout the years and his self-confidence is shot full of holes.

I'm not convinced he's a "full-on penetrative sex the first time you two hook up" guy. I think he would like a few encounters to get to know your body and what you enjoy before the two of you get to that point. I think he would let you touch him early on, but over the clothes. Mostly, the early encounters would be about him getting to know your desires and reacquainting himself with his own.

This poor, tired, achy old man would be fairly lazy during sex. Don't get me wrong, he's embarrassed about it, and he's got more than enough strength and energy to make sure you're satisfied, but he's a big fan of laying back and watching you ride him, having sex laying on your sides, letting you bounce on him in reverse cowgirl and control the pace...pretty much any position that takes the stress off of his back and joints is a favorite of his. However, he isn't above pinning you down, or even picking you up to fuck you if you misbehave enough.

Canonically has a sweet tooth, like most old men (fun fact: as people age, their taste buds weaken, and, as a result, many older people have an affinity for sweet and spicy food, as those two flavor profiles remain fairly easy to detect as the ability to taste more complex flavors degrades). I bet he'd like to lick something sweet off of your naked body an awful lot. Granted, things like honey or whipped cream are difficult or impossible to get your hands on in the Wasteland, depending on where you are, so it might not be the easiest thing to pull off. But hey, you never know when you might come across a little bit of chocolate that you can melt, or something similar. Hell, the way the man loves himself a Sunset Sarsaparilla, maybe you could just dribble some of that on yourself and let him go to town.

Due to his insecurities, he loves an enthusiastic partner. He loves to be flirted with, romanced right back, treated like you see him as desirable. Little romantic gestures turn him on a lot. PDA makes him nervous (you never know how people are going to react to the presence of a ghoul, let alone a ghoul claiming to have a human partner), but when you two are alone, he likes to give and receive lots of kisses, affectionate embraces, ass pinches, whatever.

I'm not sure I can see him having sex in the costume (mostly because of the way he internally associates it with the death of his sister), but I can certainly see him still liking to play with certain "vaquero"-type activities. Rope play, for example. I don't think he'd be unopposed to tying your hands up if you misbehave.

Ass man ass man ass man ass man. Dude is checking out what you've got back there every chance he gets. One of his favorite ways to communicate that he's in the mood is to saddle up behind you and slide his erection up and down the cleft of your ass; it makes him even harder.

Because of the things he's seen and experienced, he's not willing to be rough with you. Passionate, sure. He'll fuck you hard, physically, but he isn't interested in violent or rough foreplay/sex. No primal play/dubcon/CNC play with him. BDSM in general isn't really his thing.

He also refuses to have sex with you when you're intoxicated in any way. The idea that there could possibly be any blurred lines when it comes to your consent makes him very uncomfortable.

[moscnios]

Heya, so i just recently found your account and well, i love the way you write the roger pirates, is it alright if you could give us some cuddling headcannons with them? :) thanks for reading hun

✩༄  headcanons ,  cuddling with the roger pirates !

☆ — characters! . . . roger. rayleigh. oden. gaban.

☆ — cw(s)! . . . n/a. gn!reader. no pronouns used. not proofread.

☆ — notes! . . . this request couldn’t have come at a better time. the roger pirates have been on my mind always lately. thank you so much for requesting !! <3333

an absolute cuddle fiend !! roger loves cuddling with you. if he could have you wrapped in his arms or being wrapped in your arms at all hours of the day, he definitely would

he has no preference over being the big spoon or little spoon. but it just so happens, he tends to be little spoon often

there’s nothing better to him than having your arms wrapped around him, with his head on your chest, your hand in his hair, scratching his scalp. it puts him right to sleep

he especially loves your cuddles after a tough battle

if you tell him you’ll cuddle him if he wins a fight ?? he’s going to fight tooth and nail to win.

nothing and no one is getting in the way of him and your embrace

you will have to pry his arms from around you when you wake up in the morning, otherwise he will not let you go

his embrace is always so warm and very loving

uses cuddling to trap you into smothering your neck and cute face in kisses

rayleigh usually has an arm wrapped loosely around your waist whether you’re out and about or just chilling on the deck

it’s grown to be a habit of his. sometimes he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until you point it out

he is more of a half spoon kind of guy, laying on his back on your shared bed, with his hands behind his head. you cuddling into his side with your arm draped across his torso and your head on his shoulder

he’s also a fan of the cuddle hug

he enjoys being face to face with you. the deep eye contact, the tips of your noses touching. it still manages to make him feel all giddy inside like in his youth

cuddling brings out your best talks

some nights the two of you have such profound conversations that bring you even closer together

and other nights you listen to him complain and gripe about what crazy thing the apprentices got themselves into that day

he swears if he didn’t have to vent to, he’d maybe throw one of them overboard. he’s kidding…maybe…

there is no escaping oden and his cuddles

you can run but you cannot hide, because he will find you and he will smother you in all his love and affection

after he discovered cuddling is his favorite thing ever, he will not put you down…quite literally sometimes

and it’s so cute to see him so excited to be holding you. he’ll never get tired of you being in his arms

oden used to be very stiff when it came to cuddling in the early stages of your relationship. he had no idea what he was doing

but he quickly got used to it and cannot go a day without cuddling. never in his life has he felt so comfortable

the biggest sucker for back hugs, most of them come out of nowhere. hearing his heavy footsteps running in your direction, when he comes into view you see his arms already wide open. oh boy

at least he has started to announce himself after that one time you thought he was someone else and you threw him over your shoulder onto his back

gaban claims he’s not the cuddly type…he’s also the lying type so it’s best not to listen to everything he says

he just doesn’t know how to ask for them

he can be a little shy about cuddling if there are other people outside of the crew around

you have discovered when he’s jealous he is the most clingy

if he sees someone looking at you in a way he doesn’t like ?? he’ll up the ante tenfold, holding you in his arms like he hasn’t seen you in years. he makes it known you’re with him

he’s a head-in-lap kind of guy. there’s no better place than your lap and he stands by that. he can look up to see not only the stars in the night sky but your cute face too ??

oh he loves it. especially if you stroke his hair a little. he melts under your touch

he also really likes when you lay on top of him, so he can rub circles into your lower back as you talk about your day or whatever’s on your mind.

he’ll sneak a quick kiss or two to your head and then pretend not to know what you’re talking about just to get a reaction out of you

© MANGEKYUOU — do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

[all-pacas]

do you have any taub headcanons? i love that weirdo and i can never find any good posts about him besides yours

i don't, which i won't let stop me! here's some taub headcanons i'm making up on the spot:

He likes to sing, and he's not half bad at it. Kind of a showtunes guy. Sings in the shower, or while puttering around the house.

He's a big putterer. The type who likes to do dishes or fold laundry just because the repetitive nature lets him space out and think. He'd probably like gardening if he'd ever tried it. Despite this, he's not a particularly tidy person, or even all that organized.

He did always want kids. It wasn't like a driving thing, he did believe he was fine not having them when Rachel said she didn't, he probably could have lived his whole life not having kids and been fine. But he really loves fatherhood, even if it happened in the messiest way possible.

Although Taub was driven out of his practice, he didn't have to go into a Fellowship, let alone one for a fake field like diagnostics. But it sounded fun. And that actually matters to him. He can't do a job he doesn't care about, he'd rather take a shitty paying job for House than be bored as a GP or something.

After the series, he goes back to plastic surgery, but keeps in contact with Chase partially just to fish for consults. Like come on buddy. Don't you want to tag Taub in sometimes. Wouldn't it be fun. Come on. Come onnnnnn

Taub liked Kutner a lot, but they never really transitioned into out of work friends; they'd grab lunch sometimes but Taub never had Kutner over for dinner, for example. Which absolutely destroyed him after Kutner was gone.

So he made more of an effort with the others going forward. Like Chase thought Taub was being condescending when he invited Chase over for Thanksgiving Post Divorce, but no, Taub meant it, he actually does try to be a proactive friend. He's low key about it. Foreman was easy (Taub isn't at all threatened by or intimidated by his ego). He keeps in touch with 13 in a vague way after she moves on to Greece (he goes to her eventual wedding). He even still sends Christmas and birthday cards to Masters. (She got confused the first time, because isn't he Jewish? So now he sends her Christmas and Hannukah cards.)

Taub is not at all a practicing jew but his judaism is super important to him and he does lowkey want his daughters to go to Hebrew School. Just for cultural reasons. That said, he's probably the type to put up a Christmas tree because it's easier. I'm putting a lot of my dad into him with this one. Taub has dad vibes.

He loves a good argument. In quieter moments, he and House actually probably have a lot of fun going way into the weeds on highly specific philosophical or theological arguments.

He is a fiend for gossip, and tells all of it to his wife. Even after the divorce.

He and Wilson tried to be friends and it didn't quite work. Not because they dislike one another; they have a healthy appreciation for one another. It was just one of those things. They never quite clicked. They look at one another's philandering and self depreciation and inner insanity and go "what a loser." They're just alike enough in the wrong ways that they have nothing to talk about.

Lowkey, he probably had a bit of a thing for Cuddy.

[cinnamonest]

Hiii I absolutely adore your work!! You're legit my favorite fic writer, every word you put down is gospel amen 🙏 If youre still doing requests, maybe what about albedo x tall reader? I love how you write him so much, im 6ft tall myself and am fiending for yan stuff for tall girls since tall women are always written to be strong and dominant which kills me inside since im the total opposite...

Luckily he's not really insecure about it or anything, not like one of those people who gets all neurotic and has a complex. It's just. You know. He wouldn't mind getting a bit taller, is all. But if he ever starts getting too hung up over it, the feeling then loops back to feeling embarrassed over being insecure over something like that, so he tries to just ignore any feelings on it entirely.

He does handle your greater stature than himself better than some other, more insecure short boys, though. So long as you don’t bring the matter up, he won’t either. He genuinely doesn’t care about having others poke fun at him, which some of the knights he works with certainly do, given that it’s not everyday you see a guy with a girlfriend so much taller than himself, but he has very little regard for the opinions of those he doesn’t care much about and is thus largely unaffected.

He does, however, care what you think. He’s the sort of person who buries any insecurities he may have and ensures he never brings them up or makes them known, but he does worry just a bit that you wish he was taller, that it compromises the respect you have for him, or worse, that you’ll get wandering eyes… he feels sick to his stomach if he sees you talking to some tall guy, even more so than the sickness he already feels seeing you talk to anyone.

And even if you tease him about the matter, he handles that very well, albeit with a twitching to his smile that you may notice if you look carefully. He wants to give off the impression that it doesn’t bother him, even if it kinda does, just a little.

This also ends up accelerating his obsessive tendencies, the insecurity gets to him and he acts more impulsively and more recklessly than he would normally, and you’ll find that the situation between you escalates much faster to the point of captivity.

Regardless, you have no need to worry. The man does not have a submissive bone in his body… unnaturally so, even.

Like you know how, as a general rule, most men tend to lean towards dominant tendencies and aren’t really submissive per se, but are still gonna salivate and get into it if you “take charge”?

He’s not even like that. The notion of you having any sort of control or autonomy in the matter sort of… bothers him. He’s too obsessively fixated on control, and uses sex as a catharsis by which having control and seeing that control actively exerted on you brings him satisfaction and comfort and assurance, so any bit of said control being taken away gets under his skin fast.

Enthusiasm would be a pleasant surprise, sure, he likes you participating, but any time you attempt to actively control the steps and movement, or gods forbid try to push him to do or move in the way you want, he gets a little… twitchy. He’s not one to vocalize his thoughts too much, but you notice pretty much immediately, you can tell it irks him that you’re moving too much on your own, based on the firm grabs to your sides and wrists and efforts to quietly contort your body the way he wants you to, and a heavy huff of frustration when you fail to comply or try to go back to the position you were in before. It feels wrong, you should be bending and moving to the way his hands and words guide you, and failure to abide by it only strengthens the intensity of the impulse to force you under it by any means necessary.

Should you be a particularly bratty type, you can use this to your advantage by intentionally continuously breaking out of his hold or pushing back against the way he tries to push you into certain positions and outright disobeying… but that’s one of those “playing with fire” type of behaviors, and it stops being so amusing when he’s got you on your knees, held up by a fistful of hair, looming over you with an ominous, icy stare… and you may find yourself regretting your defiance, and up may be the only direction you get to look at him from now on.

[nowritingonthewall]

I think Poe would be an absolute sucker for a nice back scratch. And I think that he’s an affection fiend. The type of person who basically wants their loved one touching them as much as possible. Maybe you’re laying in bed and he lays in your chest, looking up at you imploringly, and you can tell what he wants. He wants you to lift up the back of his shirt and scratch his back, as you both drift off to sleep, little sighs of joy coming through his sleepy smile, as you make him feel good.

Poe doesn’t only crave affection, he absolutely melts at the smallest of touches that he receives from you 🥺

We all know how much love and warmth and care he provides for his friends and loved ones every single day. Giving the most wonderful hugs in the whole damn universe (and probably beyond), always knowing exactly when someone might need one.

And he never ever asks for anything in return 🥺 So when you start to show him all of those little signs of affection without him having to ask for it? He is a goner. A heartfelt hug as soon as you see his shoulders sag? A little kiss to his forehead to smooth over those worry lines? Massaging his shoulders which are so tense from carrying the weight of the galaxy for way too long? Offering your lap to lay down his head for a little while as you play with his hair until his worries seem to fade away? He knows that he could ask you anytime and for anything and you would be more than happy to be there for him. But he never has to. Because you know. Somehow you always do.

So of course you know exactly what to do when he looks at you with those big and warm baby ewok eyes. As you can feel him melting into you and relaxing under you gentle caress, you can’t help but smile at his happy little sighs. Burying your face into his curls, you whisper a tender little “I love you!” and just before he drifts into peaceful slumber you can feel him smiling softly “I know!”.

[potheadkiki]

hey legend!! im fiending for shiggy right now oh lordd uhm would you right female chubby (maybe black too, lightskin) reader x shigaraki?? i loveeee that loser so much ugh. uhm i dont mind the roles honestly. top bottom switch whatever youd like to do. but i want him to be like such a begger and praiser if you will. thanks lovey!

Pretty girl

⚠Warming⚠

Virgin shiggy

Praise kink

Toma being kind of a sub

Kinda gentle sex

Under the impression his personality type is ISTP

Cumming in pants 🥳

I apologize for the wait. Some things have been going on in my personal life.

I'm thinking shiggy who has never felt the touch of a woman until he meets a barista who's only ability to negate any other ability that touches her...meaning shiggy can feel her, touch her, fuck her, without hurting her and that's not something he's willing to give up

You met Shigaraki while you were working at the cafe down the street from his hideout. He had never seen you before but he wanted you the second he saw you. You were beautiful, most likely a foreigner, the way your skin glowed when the sun hit it, your apron hugging your plush figure perfectly,he was hypothesized he needed to get to know you, so when he figures out what your quirk is simply known as "negating" so whenever someone with a quirk touches you it becomes negated no longer working. One thing led to another and he asked you out which you happily agreed to even knowing his secret which never affected how you felt for him, you have however scolded him for his obsession of the kids at UA. So here you are at the hideout relaxing on his bed as he plays video games. You guys have been going steady for a couple of months both being rather inexperienced when it comes to relationships and chose to take things slow but you wanted to be with him physically, you could be it wasn't like he could hurt you with his quirk even if he wanted to.

Deciding to finally seduce your boyfriend you realized things had to be perfect and since he's currently distracted with his game you decided now would be the best time, walking over to your closet and grabbing a plastic bag then walking over and kissing his cheek telling him that you've got to use the bathroom and that you'll be back in a minute with a surprise. You see as one of his eyebrows raise and his mouth opens but you walk away making your way to your shared bathroom, changing quickly into a simple set of lingerie which consists of a simple mesh bra, pair of panties with a similar material and design along with two garter belts that wrap around your thighs and clip to the panties, once dressed you look at yourself in the mirror pleased with what you see, running your hands down your body to smooth out any wrinkles. Opening the door and clearing your throat to get his attention, which you do successfully watching him turn his gaming chair to face you, a shy smile paints your face as you place your arms behind your back

"So what do you think? Like your surprise?" You say as you give a twirl, stopping in front of him as you place your arms behind your back and slightly sway your body in a seductive manor all with a smile on your face. Seeing the blush envelopes his face in second

"Change of plans, I gotta hope off guys something important just came up" he says as he takes his headset off and exits the game turning his PC off. Turning in his chair he looks at you again but this time he really looks, analyzing the way your tits slip out from your bra, you can see as his mouth opens to say something but instead he just closes his mouth again and gulps, smiling

"Speechless? I just thought that since we've been together long enough it was time to you know..." You say looking down shyly before continuing

"And besides I want my handsome boyfriend to know I'm very attracted to him" you say walking over to him standing between his legs before planting yourself on his lap. His hands instinctively go to your hips, groaning at the weight on his crotch, there's a shy smile on his face as you kiss his cheek

"I-I you look good" he says gulping, avoiding eye contact but that just makes your smile grow more and your heart beat faster. God you're in love with this man. Adjusting yourself on his lap, hearing him groan again as you realize what you've done you do it again, and again, beginning to grind on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and running your fingers through his hair gently tugging it, kissing him passionately, the feeling of his arms wrapping tight around you, the feel of his hands on your lower back as he guides your hips. You honestly don't even think he knows he's doing it but damn does it feel good. Pulling away to catch your breath you feel as he stops your movements, head slightly rolling back

"Fuck baby, I don't wanna cum in my pants" he says shyly looking away but you giggle

"It's okay baby I get it. Very flattering though" you say standing up kissing his cheek as you grab his hand making him stand up and follow you to the bed. Turning your back to him climbing into bed seductively swaying your hips to give him a little show. Once reaching the top of the bed you turn around planting yourself against the headboard. You see he's still standing there at the end of the bed, face red and clearly hard but he's not moving.

"Cmon Toma, it's okay." You say with a smile extending your hand out and gently spreading your legs, it's not the first time he's laid between your legs but this is different, completely different. The only issue is him, what if he messes up, hurts you, god what if he cums too quick he would die. But gulping and swallowing his fears as he looks at your gentle smile and warm eyes, realizing that maybe you aren't going to shame him for his inexperience instead welcoming him with open arms and legs. Climbing up and slotting himself between your thighs he presses his face into your breast and basically begins to suffocate himself. You giggle at his antics, deciding not to say anything instead wrapping your legs around his waist adjusting yourself and running your fingers through his hair gently tugging on it.

"What's the matter baby?" You ask yanking him by his hair gently to get him to make eye contact with you and when he does you see his flushed face paired with his teary eyes, it really makes a girl go wild. You don't give him the chance to ever actually respond instead kissing him passionately, moving up so that his arms are caging your head, hips moving against yours feeling the way he presses against your core, both pulling away to moan as you move your hips against his. Loving the feeling of his body pressed on top of yours as he grinds against you. You can see his head getting droopy, grabbing his head to press it against yours, lips grazing against each other as his hips move rougher.

"Mhm fuck I'm gonna cum unlock your legs please." He says desperately but remembering the way he looked while you guys were in the chair gave you a different idea. Wrapping your legs tighter around him as you whisper in his ear telling him

"It's okay baby. I got you.." You say grinding up against him, feeling as he buries his head in your neck, feeling his hips twitch as he cums, unlocking your legs as he pulls away, shame written on his face as you see the damp spot on his sweatpants. Gently smiling as you reach up for his face seeing as he flinches, god you hate when he does that, cupping his face, leaning in and kissing him passionately pulling away

"You did great baby. Think you can do it again?" You ask moving your hand down to gently rub over his crotch watching as he hisses slightly, you pull away

"Sorry love, you're still sensitive. Want to learn to touch me baby?" You ask pulling away laying back down on your back as you spread your legs giving him a clear view of your clothes cunt, a similar damp spot to his own forming on the outside of your panties. Seeing as his face gets even darker which you thought was impossible but you see as it happens. Smiling as he all but gulps but replies

"I would love too baby" he says leaning forward kissing you, and you happily return the kiss with all you're might pulling you brushing your lips against his whispering

"Take your pants off baby" you say against his lips. You're sure he's uncomfortable at the moment and he happily obliges tossing his pants somewhere and makes his way back to you with wide eyes as he sees you shimmy out of your panties, this is the first time he's seen your pussy but damn is he captivated. He doesn't even say anything as he crawls back in between your legs laying on his stomach, you can feel his breath on your most private spot making you shiver. His hands are making there way to the top of your thighs so close to where you really need him. Gasping as his fingers spread you apart.

"Sorry" he says about to pull away but you grab one of his wrists stopping him, seeming to understand he places his hands back to where they were.

"Okay just touch me baby. Right here" you say with the wrist you're still holding you place his hand on your cunt pointer finger placed on your clit. Muttering again 'right here' and he seems to understand, pulling his hands away to scoot closer, placing your thighs on his shoulders his right hand making it's way back to your clit as he rubs at your clit gently, experimentally,

"Just a little faster baby. Rub in circles." You say as one hand goes to his head running your fingers through his hair tugging. That's when you feel a finger prob at your entrance gasping

"Toma" you say looking at him with surprise but the way he looks at you with fear in his eyes almost as if he did something wrong. But you're quick to correct him

"It's okay you just surprised me. Curl your finger upwards look for a spongy spot inside it's not far baby okay" you say and he nods listening to every word as he pushes his finger in doing as you. It takes him a couple of tries but then he curls his finger up and he hears you gasp all the while his other hand never stopped playing with your clit, he can feel you squeeze around his fingers, hips twitching as you practically hump his hand.

"Toma I'm-" you interrupt yourself with a gasp as you feel his fingers curl up harshly, thighs shaking as he moves his fingers in a come hither motion all the while rubbing and teasing at your clit, back arching as you cum around his fingers. Chest heaving as he pulls his fingers away, clenching and unclenching around nothing as you attempt to calm your breathing which all goes out the window when you see him slip those same fingers that were just inside of you into his mouth, never breaking eye contact as you see his cheeks hallow as he sucks, you gasp

"You're so nasty Toma" you say looking away but he smiles at that crawling his way back bewteen your legs, his lips brushing agianst yours with a gentle smile

"Yeah but you like don't you?" he says with a cheeky smile. Pressings a kiss to your cheek he leans in to your ear whispering

"You got a condom baby?" you shiver at the question. Holy shit this is actually happening. It feels like your heart is going to burst out of your chest, you nod pointing to the bed side tables first draw.

"I bought them this morning when I went to the convience store." He smiles at the implication

"You have this all planned out don't you baby" he says with a clear smirk on his face

"I tried to" you say gently kissing him with all the passion you could muster. You feel he begins to shimmy out of his boxers and tossing them to the floor, ripping open the condom with just his teeth, watching as as he sits back on his hind legs cock free and leaking against his belly button. He struggles a bit with getting it on at first but with your encouragement he's able to get it on happily, as he settles back between legs with a shy smile. You can feel as the tip of his cock rubs against your clit in a teasing manner causing your hips to jolt as a moan slips bast your lips.

"Mhm don't tease please" you say wrapping your arms around his neck holding him cloce to you as you press kisses all around his face. You can feel the tip presses against your hole, yours thighs twitch and your hips jolt again, a whimper escapes your lips as his hips push in dipper. All the while his head hangs low his right cheek pressed agianst your left one, huffing and moaning in your ear. Gripping his shoulder whimpering out

"Slow down Toma. Just give me a second." You say chest heaving attempting to catch your breath. He pulls away breathing out an apology, his blush spreading down to his chest, he looks down to see blood covering the condom as he looks back at you with wide eyes

"Jesus Christ. You're bleeding" he says slowly pulling his hips away but you're quick to stop him, wrapping your legs around his waist gasping a the angel change, the tip of his cock pressing against that spongy spot inside that causes your eyes to roll back as your breath to stutter

"It's okay baby. I'm okay just give me a second yeah?" you say with a breathless laugh. It takes a few minutes but once you start to feel comfortable your hips move pressing against his with a moan. He gives you knowing glance before his own hips start to twitch up. You can feel as he pulls out to just the tip and gently thrust back in making sure to angel for that spot inside that causes your thighs to twitch and back arching off the bed as he grips your thighs, they're surely going to bruise. He falls on top of you, his hips never stopping as he adjusts the two of you, lifting your hips up as he wraps your legs around his waist, his weight pressing you down into the mattress. You can feel it as he thrusts harder into you gasping out

"Touch my clit baby." You say letting a whimper out as you feel his hand slip in-between your bodies toying with your clit just like he did earlier.

"Fuck baby. I can feel you clenching around me. Holy shit this feeling is amazing. I'm addicted to this pussy" he says huffing in your ear, quivering at the feeling, holy shit you didn't expect your ears to be so sensitive. You're a shaking mess overwhelmed with the pleasure he's giving you. You can feel your orgasm coming and fast with the way he's toying with you. Scratching at his back feeling as you accidentally draw blood, it doesn't seem to stop his movements if anything it spurs him on, causing his hips to move faster,

"I-I'm coming" You say gasping out grapping his shoulders as you kiss him. Hips stuttering as you squeeze around him cumming eyes slightly crossing as your hips rut up. This doesn't stop his hips from moving though, instead picking up more speed, his bruising grip on your thighs never letting go.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum." He says hips twitching as he thrusts one last time burying himself inside you one last time before cumming with a low groan. He pulls out shortly after pulling the condom off and tying it close before tossing it in the trash can, you let a groan due to the overstimulation. Pulling away with a smile as he stands up off the bed gently kissing you

"You did so good." He says kissing you again walking to your shared bathroom to grab a damp rag and wipe you off. Gently spreading your thighs as he gently rubs the rag against the inside of your thighs cleaning you up the best he can.

"How are you feeling" He asks gently rubbing small circles into your thigh

"I'm okay baby. Just exhausted." You say giving him a tired smile. To which he smiles at kissing you again. Pulling on his boxers standing up

"I'll go get you a snack" He says walking out, he's only out for a few minutes coming back in with two granola bars and two water bottles. Making his way back to you all snuggled up with heavy eyes. He makes his way back to the bed opening up one of the water bottles and placing it near your lips as you drink happily. Sighing in contempt as he screws the cap back on. Climbing into behind you wrapping his arms around you tightly, kissing your cheek gently

"You did great. Take a nap." He says kissing you again and you hum at that snuggling up closer to him as you fall asleep in his arms.

Noete: I don't know you'll like this honestly

[homestuckreplay]

Gamer Grandma Gits Gud!

(page 419-421)

7/30/2009 Wheel Spin: Captchalogue Lore Verdict: INCORRECT

7/31/2009 Wheel Spin: Parent Bad :( Verdict: EXTREMELY INCORRECT - true answer: Grandparent Good :)

There's an absolutely overwhelming amount of stuff in only three pages and LOADS to say, so I'm going to bullet point this to keep this as brief as possible because I try to write these posts within the timeframe of a single Mountain Goats album.

Rose + Dave

Those notification bubbles above the computer really exist, in Sburb at the very least! Rose knows that Dave is wearing those stupid shades confirmed.

The command is 'Rose: Pester John.' and Rose only half obeys this - she pesters, but it isn't John. Always cool to see characters push against commands, and to have expectations subverted for the reader.

Dave acknowledges that his bro might be taking puppet irony too far, and it's Rose he chooses to tell this to, explicitly saying 'don't tell John.'

Dave's bro's ventriloquist rap doll haunts him in his dreams?? This is definitely a normal sibling dynamic and definitely not something that's going to end up being super important given the general theme of the characters having dolls in their house.

What are Dave's bro's websites and are they anything like Dave's? Does Rose think Dave's bro is cooler than he is? Is this a sticking point in their friendship?

'I suspect he is preoccupied with the fact that he just had a bucket of water dumped on his head by the ghost of his dead grandmother, who also happens to be dressed like a clown.' Fucking insane thing for Rose to say. No wonder Dave has no idea what to make of it.

John + Nanna

Nannasprite is the coolest ever. Lots of her wisdom clearly comes from being a game NPC, but she dispenses it in such a grandmotherly fashion.

Nannasprite is also the most powerful character because she never has to retrieve her arms. She has one all the time, while everyone else is sometimes drawn without them.

Very interesting dynamic that John doesn't remember his nan from before she died, and is essentially getting to know her for the first time in gamesprite form.

Absolutely hilarious bit that Nannasprite pretends not to know what a computer is.

Dad + Imps

The imps on p.421 are both clown themed and have the same bodies, but different color schemes. One is a shale imp exactly like the one John thought - the other could be a different flavor of imp who drops different loot?

John is 'a fine young man just like [his] father' according to Nanna. I sure would love to know what Dad was like when he was young.

With the new knowledge of the strife portfolio, can we assume Dad uses both cakekind and broomkind? Possibly other fatherly household objects too?

Dad was kidnapped by 'the forces of darkness,' which doesn't sound very good. The imps seem like really low level enemies though, and not deserving of this title. Who do they work for? In D&D, imps are very low level fiends who serve devils and archdevils, and I believe this comes from Christian mythology. But imps aren't typically evil in and of themselves, just mischievous lackeys, so something bigger is happening.

The Lore!!!!

The Medium - makes me think of an artistic medium, as in a type/category of art or the material used to create art, or of a medium/middle between light and darkness or good and evil.

The Incipisphere - from incipient, 'beginning to happen or develop' + sphere, a uniform three-dimensional round shape. This is interesting, because the place is 'untouched by the flow of time' but also has just come into being with the beta release of Sburb and also 'somewhat paradoxically, almost has' existed apart from it. This works because I too have had older relatives tell me confusing stories that don't make logical sense.

John is not inside a computer or digital space, the computer served as a portal to a different physical space (which is also a ring of pure void). Computer (or fiction in general) as portal to another world is a common metaphor that is being made literal here.

Sburb probably dictates how much gamesprites know and how much they're allowed to tell the player. To what extent is Nannasprite 'pre-programmed' and to what extent is she making her own decisions? Is the lore she gives John completely reliable?