#i made this sin

[randomspider]

Where's that dog that looks like this

[sapphic-storm69]

Spiderverse thots

[haliaiii]

I am once again thinking about persona 2

[shy-writer-999]

Subby Ace + aphrodisiacs: your top turned bottom!

Summary: Poor Ace has gotten into something with sex pollen in it. He's a mess and you're the only person who can help him. There's something delightful about seeing your very dominant boyfriend reduced to begging, whining, and even crying for a crumb of your pleasure. CW: straight up SMUT. very very pathetic needy filthy whiny ace. afab reader w/gendered language ('princess'); sex, edging, masturbation, blow job, hand job, dacryphilia, overstimulation, you name it. countless orgasms from ace, use of 'good boy' and 'pretty boy.' minors do not interact - nsfw content!

Ace is so dramatic and sensitive in bed. It gets worse when he goes on an outing by himself, and just so happens to get exposed to some form of sex pollen. He staggers back to the ship and comes straight to you.

He just won’t stop cumming. He can’t stop cumming.

His face is twisted up in anguish and he’s frowning, genuinely so miserable you think he’s about to cry.

“Baby, please help me, I’m going crazy.”

His erection looks bigger than usual—you didn’t think that was possible, and for a split second you’re worried that it won’t fit at all. But of course it will. It has fit countless times before.

“I need you. I’m begging you, sweetheart, please.” He frowns and does puppy dog eyes at you. Your heart melts, but you have to set him straight.

“Ace,” you tut. “You don’t ever need to beg for me.”

“Can I, though?” He smiles back, and it looks like a bit of a grimace.

“I’ll allow it. But you have to do what I say, okay?”

Ace nods. “Of course.” He’s thrilled at the idea of you being in control.

You sit down on the bed next to him and rest a hand on his thigh. He flinches.

“Fuck.” You can see his cock jump through the fabric of his underwear.

A simple hand on his skin like this is enough to make him squirm? It’s going to be a fun night. He looks pathetic and miserable right now. His brows are bent at the middle and he’s doing the cutest, saddest little pout you’ve ever seen.

“Touch me more, beautiful,” he murmurs and closes his eyes, mouth hanging open in concentration. His mind is fixated how your cool skin feels against his, how soft your hand is, how close you are to his throbbing hard on.

Your fingers wander over his skin, conjuring goosebumps and shudders, eliciting whimpering sounds from Ace’s pretty lips. The whimpers quickly turn into muted sounds of pleasure.

Precum seeps through the fabric of his underwear and you pity him, reaching your fingers upwards to pull the waistband down. When his cock springs out, sure enough, it’s bigger than usual, a fact which is both troubling and tantalizing.

The tip of his long shaft is red, inflamed, and defined. It glistens in the light from the dim lamp in the corner of his cabin, highlighting the precum that smears his head and continues to seep out—it’s a ridiculous amount of precum. You’ve never seen this much before.

You take a moment to admire him. Your eyes wander from his erection to his defined abs and dark, thin happy trail. Your eyes meet his. His pupils are huge and there’s a visible sheen of sweat on his forehead that mats down the hair around his temples.

Ace is trying not to be impatient, but it’s hard because his body is screaming for attention.

“Please, princess. Use me. Do anything you want to me.” His voice comes out as a whisper, tinted in reverence, and bathed in lust.

When you hum in reply, you stand up, slipping off your underwear and bra. He scoots back onto the pillows and his thighs widen while you get on top of him. Your lower yourself down to sit on top of his erection. You don’t fuck him yet, though. You just lay his shaft flat on your core and stay there for a second.

Some teasing couldn’t hurt. So, you slowly start to roll your hips, rubbing yourself on Ace’s wet shaft. It’s starting to get you worked up, too, and before you know it, you’re soaking wet.

Gasp after gasp tumbles out of his mouth and no less than thirty seconds later, he starts to seize up below you, cumming on his lower abdomen. His breaths are shallow and ragged, and he’s lying there panting.

“Don’t stop,” he chokes out, again begging for something he knows he’ll get if he only waits patiently. “Please don’t stop.”

“Poor thing.” You lean down and kiss him. Even the mere feeling of your lips on his makes him let out the softest groan. He feels like his whole body is on fire, but it’s in a way he’s never felt before, different from the logia fire he’s so accustomed to.

His kisses quickly turn greedy and sloppy, and every drag of your aching core over his cock makes him let out repressed puffs of air in your mouth. Soon, he’s moaning straight into your mouth.

God, he’s so worked up it’s starting to be more fun than you imagined.

Lining up his sticky wet tip with your entrance, you finally start to sink down onto his cock, going deliberately slow so he doesn’t cum again (yet). But when he bottoms out, his hips buck up inadvertently, hitting your gooey hot spot inside.

“F-fuck, fuck,” Ace groans again. “Feels, ah, feels so good.”

He’s practically keening at this point, back almost arching off the bed, fingers digging into the skin of your hips.

You start to ride him slowly. Whatever way feels best. Sometimes you pull yourself up his shaft so only the tip is inside and plunge it back in, other times you keep him inside of you and grind your hips back and forth. One moment, you brace your hands on his chest for more leverage; the next moment, you lean in and kiss his neck, leaving love bites in a trail from his neck to his shoulder. The contact draws out a body-wracking moan from the dark-haired man beneath you—the sounds he’s making are delicious.

He cums aggressively again, hips jerking upwards. Each press of his cock up hits your g-spot and when he feels your body shift in response it drives him crazier.

Ace’s fingers are pulling you downwards, pushing himself deeper inside of you.

“Need more,” he chokes out.

When your legs start to burn, he does all the work for you. Muscly, rough hands come under your thighs, moving you effortlessly up and down until you’re the one cumming, writhing in ecstasy on top of him.

But Ace still doesn’t want to stop. “Keep going, please.”

He has the habit of saying please in bed. It’s endearing. When he asks so nicely, it’s hard to say no.

So, your hips move more. And more. And more. Until they’re numb and he’s fucking you stupid.

You’ve collapsed on top of him now, mewling in his neck from each thrust. “C’mon baby, give me another.” You murmur in his ear, voice seductive and honeyed. It’s all he needs to hear before he literally cums on command.

He’s usually an animal in bed. Buy boy, whatever sex pollen or aphrodisiac he ran into today is doing a number on him. You, very obviously, have no issue with it.

Feral sounds escape his lips while Ace pumps more of his hot seed inside. It’s seeping out of you, creeping down the sides of his body, and saturating the fabric of the bedspread below him. It’s going to leave a massive, milky-white stain. And he isn’t done yet.

“Keep going,” he looks absolutely pathetic. “Please, please, I—I’m going crazy.” He can barely get the words out, so pussydrunk and out of it that he’s on the verge of drooling.

You smile and kiss him on the cheek. “Missionary. But you’re going to go nice and slow, okay?”

Ace nods vigorously in return. He repositions. One of his warm hands is on your waist now, while the other gropes upwards to massage and caress your chest.

He takes his time, just like you told him. From this angle, you can see his face more—and it’s glistening, evidently he’s been crying. He’s been crying because of how good it feels. Something about the idea is wildly erotic. He wants pleasure so badly that he’s begging and crying over it, literal tears from those pretty brown eyes.

Every orgasm feels better than the last. He shoots more seed inside of you again, quickly, almost immediately upon entering you. But there’s a rebound period before his second orgasm where you decide to be a bit cruel.

“Slower, Ace.”

He complies, hips shaking, moving centimeters at a time. There’s so much cum inside of you that it’s almost sloshing out, squelching so loud you’re thankful no one is around to hear. His eyes are glued to where the cum seeps out of you, drinking up the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you with every pass.

Gravelly, obscene groans tumble out from him every second—it’s almost a constant stream.

“Wanna go faster,” he rasps, eyes snapping up to yours. You see more tears gathering on his lash line.

“Not yet, baby. Be a good boy and wait for it, okay?”

When he hears you call him that—good boy—a strangled sounding gasp erupts from his lips and his hips shudder. “Fuuuuhhhccckkk.”

Desperate, heaving breaths accompany his extreme efforts. He’s trying not to cum, trying not to buck and rut haphazardly and mindlessly into your cunt like some animal in heat.

A couple more moments of agonizing slowness pass. When you’ve decided he’s behaved, and when you’re similarly desperate enough, you give him the go ahead.

“Faster.”

His hips snap into action and he’s cumming again within a couple seconds. It’s amazing that he still has cum to give, that he’s not completely shooting blanks at this point, that he hasn’t drained his balls completely yet. But, surely, he’ll get there.

“Mmmpppphhhh,” he moans, deafeningly loud. “Ah, ah, fuck, f-feels so good, fuck.”

“Keep going, ‘m close,” you keen his name and his hips pick up the pace. Each time his cock pushes on your sweet spot it makes you see stars. You’re getting close and he’s getting overstimulated.

When you cum again the pleasure is white-hot and euphoric, buzzing every nerve in your body. Ace does the same—he’s too sensitive, can’t handle the feeling of your walls squeezing and milking him for long before he’s careening into his own wave of euphoria.

He slows down and starts to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. He’s sweaty and his body is hot. Looks like the sex pollen is making his devil fruit powers a bit harder to control.

“You want some more, handsome?” You ask, and he nods eagerly. When you move from underneath him, you ask him to lay on his back. Rifling through a bedside drawer, you bring out your vibrator. You usually keep it in his cabin because that’s where you get the most use out of it. But today, instead of using it on yourself, you’re going to try something new.

While you’re grabbing the toy, Ace reaches a hand down to start touching himself but you tell him to knock it off.

“You need to sit there and be good for me. Don’t touch yourself and don’t cum unless I say so, okay?”

When he hears your stern tone, Ace puts his hands behind his head, and peers down to see what happens next. It’s hard for him to stay still, but he tries his very best.

Situating yourself between his thick thighs, you turn the vibrator on and bring it to the head of Ace’s cock. He almost immediately starts to seize up. He’s going to cum again. But where would the fun be if you just let him?

You take the vibrator away and frown. “Do I need to tell you again? Don’t cum until I say so, sweetheart.”

He pouts and nods. You bring the vibrator back and put it on the lowest setting setting. He’s hardly holding on as is, but when you turn the vibrator’s speed up, he starts to writhe in pleasure.

“’m close,” he whines, biting his lip.

You take the vibrator off again, met with a strangled sounding cry of frustration from Ace. He takes a few minutes to cool back down until he’s ready for you to start again.

Twenty, no, thirty minutes pass like this until he’s on the verge of tears again. When you finally let him have it, he asks so nicely. It’s not like he hasn’t been asking nicely before, but this time his voice cracks and you can see the tears in his lash line.

“C-can I please, please cum?” He’s being so sweet and needy. It’s crazy to think this is the strong, courageous man who has protected you countless times. Reduced to a sniveling mess, asking for another orgasm.

You say yes. He’s being so polite, so why not?

After this orgasm, he’s almost ready to tap out. He can use his safe word, obviously but… he really doesn’t want to. It feels too good. He’ll keep going for as long as he physically can.

“You still have another couple to give me, right? Don’t you want to be good for me and keep going?” You say, looking up from between his thighs. The tip of his cock is inflamed from the relentless vibrating, and his abdomen is coated in a sheen of his own cum. He’s at the point where he doesn’t care about anything, fucked-out with his mind empty.

When he nods his head mindlessly, you take your turn. You sink down on his cock (again) and ride him for as long as it takes you to orgasm. For the record, it doesn’t take long, but Ace has lost track of time.

He’s being louder than usual. Every few seconds he lets out some form of a whine, a whimper, a “fuck,” a “please,” or a “’s too much.” His cheeks are bright red, accentuating those cute freckles, and his eyes are half-lidded. He’s so handsome it makes your stomach flip. He’s falling apart with minimal effort, and he’s all hands, too. He grabs handfuls of the plush skin of your hips and ass, kneading and getting himself more wound up.

Ace cums once while you’re working up to your own orgasm, then again when you’re cumming on his cock, and then a third time, when you pull yourself off his length and wrap a hand around his shaft. Every time he cums, you encourage and praise him. It drives him crazier.

“There’s a good boy,” you say. “Keep going for me. Don’t stop.”

You talk dirty to him while you give him one very long hand job. He eats it up, loves the idea of you speaking filth to nobody but him. Before you started seeing each other, he couldn’t imagine you had this sort of mouth on you—not in his wildest dreams. It’s his delight every time you’re in bed that you feel comfortable enough with him to talk like this.

“You’re just too sweet I can’t stop Ace,” your voice oozes in desire. “And you’re being so good for me.”

“’s good?” He slurs, holding your eye contact as much as he can manage.

“Mmmhm. Tell me what it feels like. Use your words, okay?”

His eyes flutter and his voice comes out as a whisper. “So good. F-feels so fucking good.”

You coo in his ear and bite his earlobe softly. “Don’t I always make you feel so good?” He nods in a silent reply, rocking his hips up to fuck himself with your fist.

As you milk more cum from him, he reaches a hand up—you initially think he’s going for your chest, but his hand falls on your cheek and he attempts to pull you into a kiss. He’s a bit weak in his current state, so you oblige him by leaning in.

It’s just gut-wrenchingly cute of him to be fucked dumb like this and still want to get kisses from you. He’s just thanking his lucky stars that you, of all people, is who he ended up with.

While you explore his mouth with your tongue, and cup his face with your free hand, his heart feels like it’s going to burst.

He cums again. The fact that he still has cum to give is preposterous in itself. You’ve lost track of time at this point, too.

You make him eat you out and he’s (understandingly) sloppy with it. His hot mouth feels just right on your core, and he pays just enough attention to your clit. Feeling you pull on his hair makes him feel more aroused than he thought possible.

So, he’s ready to fuck you again. He goes for another round in missionary, then puts you into a mating press. Afterwards, he gets tuckered out and you figure that he has one good one left in him, or, rather, he probably has more to give but he really should give it a rest after that. It would be way too cruel to make him keep going after this one, right? You’ll decide the answer to this question after he cums for you again.

“One more, Ace,” you pet his ruffled up hair and grace him with kisses. “You can do that for me, can’t you, pretty boy?”

He nods obediently.

“There you go,” you purr and start to trace your lips down his abdomen, licking up a small portion of the very large mess he’s made on himself.

His eyes widen as he realizes he’s about to get one of his very favorite things—a blowjob from none other than yourself.

He lifts his head up and watches in awe as you lick a long stripe up his shaft and then take him whole, hollowing your cheeks before you start to suck him off. You’re gentle at first, until he starts moaning louder, then you figure fuck it, he can cum. You let him off easy this time. He’s just been so good for you.

When you look up from your position between his legs, you make eye contact, nod, and then hum. It sends him over the edge. Ace’s fingers snake into your hair and he holds your head down as he cums down your throat.

“C-cumming, ‘m cumming, ah, fuck, fuhhhcckkk that feels good,” his groans are harsh and loud.

He’s so sweet afterwards that it’s heart melting. You know that he must be tired, but he doesn’t act the part. Not when you’ve been so good to him, when you’ve praised him, taken your time with him, coddled and kissed him. It almost makes you feel guilty how affectionate he is.

Pulling into you a long, tender kiss, he so sweetly says, “fuck, you’re perfect. I can’t believe someone like me gets to be with someone like you.”

You cup his cheeks and tell him to cut it out. Of course someone like him gets to be with someone like you. He’s perfect, after all. You cuddle him in bed for a while before he, again, very politely, asks if you’d help clean him up. He’s positively covered in cum and doesn’t want to stain anything else more than he already has. Seems like this is another pair of bedsheets that can be considered properly soiled. Not like that will stop you from doing the same thing in the future.

Now, where did he come across that sex pollen again?

this style of writing for me (when i just write straight up smut with no plot) is akin to a sort of slop. i am the lunch lady handing out scoops of questionable and most likely unsatisfying mush BUT sometimes on a good day it is delicious... i can only hope the slop today did not disappoint... >_> cant say this one is my absolute fave so apologies if it's trash T-T but i love the idea of him being so whiny like this..!!

check out my masterlist and also the best piece i've written on ace so far, if you liked this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune

taglist @eggrollforyou

[seleai]

he misses his wifi

We will get pixane content in DR season 3 We will get pixane content in DR season 3 We will get pixane conte

[r04sty]

Sins of the flesh is a fun update

[kittiekiske]

VALENTINE SIN VALENTINE SIN!

[this-blog-is-for-good-vibes-only]

Some shitty doodles of my recent experiences in the new Cotl update!! There was a lot more that happened, but not enough time to draw it all.. maybe in another post!

Leshy?? Are you okay?? I’ve been too depressed to remarry since my first wife, my friend. Where did this come from..??

Also,,, Kallamar has been awfully flirty with his former Witness for awhile now…

so I did what a completely rational leader would do and I

[camembri]

do you think when ace couldn't find sabo in the afterlife he thought his ten year old brother went straight to hell

[undefeatablesin]

YOU MUST ANSWER ⏳️

[randomspider]

Anyone know the name of the bird that looks like this? I can't remember it

[eowynstwin]

NSFW Alphabet — Valeria “El Sin Nombre” Garza

Pairing: Valeria “El Sin Nombre” Garza x f!Reader Rating: Explicit Warnings: femdom. knifeplay mention. cucking fantasy. MEAN MEAN MEAN Valeria. Can be interpreted as lesbian Valeria if you like!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

One of the rare times that you get to see the soft inner world of Valeria Garza is after she’s rocked yours. She is the dominant, active partner in your relationship, through and through, but no one under the kind of pressure she is can go without some sort of relief. So when you’ve come down from the highs she’s brought you to, Valeria is curling up against you, stroking your face with tender, soft fingers, whispering in mingled Spanish and English that you’re the only person on the face of the earth that really matters to her.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Valeria is very proud of her looks from top to bottom. She knows she’s hot as fuck, knows it only takes a quirk of her brow and a twitch of her lips to have men and women alike falling over themselves for her favor. If she had to choose a feature specifically, she’d choose her hips. She’s proud that she takes up space, proud that her femininity has more power than all of the men under her command combined.

On you, she’s actually quite partial to your belly, breasts, and thighs—all of the softest parts of you drive her wild. The way her hands sink into you, the softness of all that delicate skin? If she doesn’t have a hand on you at any given moment, she’s thinking about how soon she can.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

A personal goal of hers, when your sexual relationship begins, is to figure out how to make you squirt. She’s very methodical about it, which is deeply unfair, because her experimentation with your body has you writhing and whimpering at the ends of her fingers while she, by comparison, doesn’t look affected at all.

Of course, that’s not true—you learn her expressions at the same time that she learns yours, and you know how to recognize as time goes on the flex of her brows and the angle of her chin as signals of her own arousal. When she finally accomplishes her goal—when you soak her arm to the elbow as you scream her name—she’ll carry around the high of that pride for a month. And use your wetness as lube to go again immediately after.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Valeria has no dirty secrets. She is not shy to express anything she wants of you, at any time. Every notion of shame she ever possessed, she crushed years ago, and she trains it out of you, too—she wants you open and naked in every possible way with her, eager to tell her what you want, eager to hear her own desires.

Is what she’d tell you.

In truth, there are things El Sin Nombre keeps so close to the chest that they live behind her sternum. She thinks of white dresses, of gilt-draped mariachis, of thirteen solid gold arras piling up in your cupped hands. She thinks of hands linked together and lazy walks along the beach, gentle waves lapping at your feet. She thinks of waking up beside you with nothing to do other than to admire you.

She’s already sized the rings. You will know none of this for a long, long time.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Valeria has a wealth of experience. She has always been charismatic, confident in what she wants out of life and not afraid to seize it by any means necessary. And she has no reservations about utilizing that experience in your shared bedroom, no circumspection about showing off for you. Knowing that she can wreck you like none other, and knowing that you know that, is a high she can’t get anywhere else.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position in which Valeria has you at her mercy is her favorite one. You tied up, a vibrator taped to your thigh, while she sits casually across the room with a remote in one hand and tequila in the other? The best kind of night, for her. Rarely does El Sin Nombre enjoy handing control over to someone else, even someone she trusts as much as you.

That doesn't mean she isn't fond of an old-fashioned scissoring, however. It simply depends on what mood strikes her in the moment.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous?)

MEAN. Valeria is mean. She learns you very quickly, learns the razor-thin line between good hurt and bad hurt, and loves to get right up to the edge of that line as often as she can. She can't help it—she loves your little helpless whimpering and crying, and will merely lick your tears off your face and give your abused nipple a twist. She's enjoying herself very much, and you'll be able to admit later that you are, too.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

Valeria strikes me as someone with a landing strip. Perfect way to show you exactly where she wants your mouth to be.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Part of the reason Valeria likes to overstimulate you so much is because it keeps you from seeing, she thinks, the real depths of her feelings for you. She thinks that if you could look into her eyes properly as she fucks you, then you would know exactly how much of her is yours, and she's not willing to hand over that much power to you. (It doesn't work, of course. She treats you too gently afterwords for someone who wants to hide her love so badly.)

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

She's always so busy. Keeping her empire under control does not keep her stress levels manageable, and so she will go long stretches between moments of self-pleasure. Then, when you enter the picture, she doesn't need to do it by herself; she's got a pretty little thing like you to boss around, upon whom to take out her various frustrations. Her lieutenants will gossip that her mood has much improved once she's taken you under her wing (NEVER within her earshot, of course.)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

She really enjoys the roleplay of cucking her aforementioned lieutenants. A young queer Valeria grew up watching the girls she was hopelessly in love with go for boys she felt nothing but loathing for, and the sum total of those experiences wrote themselves indelibly upon her sexual psyche.

You, in virginal white or cream lingerie, supposedly waiting for Diego in the guest bedroom of Valeria's house. Her entering. Not leaving when she sees you, and cornering you. Eventually she winds you up into a confession--you love Valeria, you've always loved Valeria, you just didn't even think she could feel the same. Then she shuts you up with a brutal kiss and hungry hands forcing themselves underneath your bra.

She's especially sweet to you after, on those nights that you indulge her.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

She's never opposed to a bed, but the many plush couches in her lavish estate have a novelty to them that never wears off. Having sex in the living rooms of her house feels joyful and open, absolutely refusing to hide away from a world that still struggles to accept her, and it provides a pleasure that is heady and rich and addictive. She likes to fuck you on her couch and make you something to drink after, a dry bar or the kitchen only a few steps away.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Moments in which you show Valeria genuine and open affection plant seeds low in her belly. The touch of your hand to hers, a kiss to her shoulder, your soft caress through her hair. You could, also, be dressing up for her enjoyment, doing sweet little spins in pretty dresses that she buys you. Signs that you're happy, that she makes you happy, make her want you with a power that she works hard to hide.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Valeria has few qualms in the bedroom. If you need her to paddle you, she will. If you need her to slap you around, hold you to her pussy by the hair while she sneers at you for being a needy little whore, she will. She is happy to use clamps, chains, whips, and even knives on you to great effect, but the one thing she will not bring into the bedroom is her gun. She will not take even the slightest risk that someone sneaks a bullet into the chamber outside her line of sight.

Also, she will shut down conversations about her work and your possible participation in it. She's keeping you safe, querida, the filthiness of running an empire is hers to deal with. It is not allowed to touch you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill)

Giving for Valeria is so. much. fun. Especially in conjunction with her cucking fantasy. And she's sooo good at it too, the kind of lover who pays so much attention to your body language and reactions. She almost never has to ask things like "is this good" once she's had you a few times. She already knows. I think she likes to give and receive in equal measures, though; the thought of your head moving and bobbing between her thighs gets her through even her hardest days.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

It all depends on context. A romantic night in is meant to be savored; she will drag out the seduction and the pleasure she promises agonizingly slowly. However, if she’s trying to make a point, she’ll work you up faster than you can keep up with, and leave you dizzy with how quickly she can make you come. Usually this happens when she’s worked up, herself, angry about something from her work and needing to let off steam.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If it were up to her, you’d be at her side at all times, on call all day, available every moment she wants you, your mouth, your fingers, or your pussy. Brief little five minute diversions to take the edge off. She likes the idea of keeping you on a leash for this, something velvet and studded with diamonds.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?)

With your safety? Never. With getting caught? Absolutely. To be more specific, Valeria doesn’t give a single shit if everyone knows what’s happening behind the door she’s closed after pulling you into it. This is her empire, and she’ll do whatever she damn well pleases in it. No one gets to see, but everyone should know: Valeria’s got a soft, sweet little thing who sings for her and her alone. Even when she makes it hurt.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

As long as you wanna go, querida. She knows you’re a spoiled little brat. She made you that way. You can have her mouth, her fingers, whatever cock you choose from her frighteningly diverse collection of them. Just be careful what you wish for. You might end up satisfied long before she is, and she will get what she wants from you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or on themself?)

Valeria collects sex toys like old white men collect baseball cards. Funny enough, the evenings in which the two of you experiment with whatever new contraption she’s bought turn out to be some of the most playful, innocent nights you spend together. She’ll have food delivered; you’ll share a bottle of liquor between you, eschewing the crystal glasses she’s got displayed somewhere near by. Valeria rarely giggles, but when you’re both trying to figure out what goes where and how many times you have to press a button and dios mio why is it shaped like that, she’ll laugh like the world has never once rested on her shoulders.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Valeria is synonymous with unfair. Why should she give you what you want, when it’s so easy to make you come, hmm? You can wait. She’s enjoying herself.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

Not loud at all, actually. In the throes of pleasure, Valeria’s moans are low, breathy, like she’s trying to hide them. This is your chance; murmur to her about how beautiful she looks, about how much you crave her when she’s away. Listen as those moans sharpen, heighten into quick, stabbing whimpers, as if she’s relaxing just enough not to think about how much noise she’s making. She’ll almost never scream for you, but every noise you can draw from her inscribes itself in your memory as if chiseled into stone.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Valeria’s into men the same way a vegetarian might be into burgers. She tried them, she liked them, and she doesn’t blame others for partaking. She’s just found that not only can she live without them, but she actively prefers her other options. If you like men, she sincerely enjoys indulging your crushes; she finds that she enjoys them more through you than anything else. Just remember—you belong to her.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

There’s no denying it; Valeria is fit. Gringa gymfluencers wish they could be her. A narrow waist, flared hips, the best fucking ass in Las Almas; if she bothered with instagram, her thirst traps would go viral every time. But more than this, Valeria is sturdy. You can pick out the individual muscle groups in her back every time she stretches her shoulders, the swell of her biceps when she curls her arms. She doesn’t quite have the height to manhandle you properly, but she can certainly hold you down if you start squirming more than she likes. Her grip strength is also something to behold; she only needs to cup your throat in one hand to remind you of it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

She’d have you every day if she could. Barring exhaustion or distraction, she always wants you. Every thought of you she has is woven through with thread of pure want, like a sweet tooth aching to be sated.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Honestly, Valeria couldn't sleep if she tried. When you fall asleep, she watches you, tracing the planes of your face with a gaze more tender than you will ever see. Valeria’s world is cruel and bloody; there is not a single soul she works with that isn’t eager to see her fall, to take her place. She can’t miss a single step. She can’t make one mistake. Her existence is balanced on a knife’s edge, every single day.

But when she looks at you, she forgets. Maybe only briefly, in the space between heartbeats. But she does, and in those tiny spaces she can think about the rings she has hidden away, the dress she’s going to buy you, the villa in Spain waiting for you to light it up together. This is why she wants you so badly; why you are the only goddamn person on this earth who matters to her. She is not El Sin Nombre with you; she is just Valeria, deeply in love, and—for once in her life—at peace.

[firelise]

I think the other thing i love about Conclave is some of my favorite poets and writers are queer people who are/have been profoundly devoutly religious like the moment i found out benjamin alire sáenz went to monastery and was on track to becoming a priest before becoming a writer I was just like "Aha! That's what it fucking was, that's where this philosophical torturous burden and deep empathy for others I'm feeling from your work comes from" deeply intellectually curious devout clergymen are such interesting people, its delicious, you cant get that shit from anywhere else

[chawliekin]

and if I said that dennis’ insistence on being the breadwinner/provider despite literally being a pampered princess who dgaf about traditional roles of masculinity in every other regard (aside from ego) is because his mom only stayed with/chose frank for his wealth and dennis is highly aware that he’s difficult to love and unable to show his emotions openly so he has to be contributing something to the relationship materially in order to feel like he’s worth staying for… and mac grew up with parents who were extremely ambivalent to him and eachother so he has to overcompensate by proving his worth at every given moment and seeking praise/validation from people (and religious icons) who will never demonstrate the same amount of dedication to him but he has no idea how else to desperately keep himself close to those he loves other than by eroding himself into something they’ll approve of… dear god they’re both exactly what the other needs — someone who can’t and won’t leave them even if they try — and they don’t even see it…

[wellwhataboutme]

[baking-bugs]

Stop -- Hammer time !