#inhale and apply

[itwoodbeprefect]

all gmmtv shows are actually set in a subtle alternate universe where everyone is continuously fascinated & delighted by their printers

[fishst4rz]

Y e s i might be aro but

Y E S I NEED A RELATIONSHIP LIKE WHATEVER THEY HAVE.

[a-personiftranslator]

So You Want To Eat A Personification

One day, it was asked what personif would taste like.

Well, it depends on your relation to that personif, the part of the personif you’re eating, how you’re eating the personif, and which personif you’re eating. The Foundation is agreed by all to be very unpleasant except for O5-10 Kay Martin, and they drink coffee the way they drink coffee, so I don’t think they’re the best judge on taste anyway.

Meat and other bodily parts taken from a dead personif will of course be different from such sliced or siphoned from a living one. Blood often becomes tasteless, which is, according to Geog, the reason so many people in the modern day worship the HRE. They ingested his blood accidentally through the water supply.

Blood is the most common part of personif consumed, due to its significance in human culture as a whole, its relatively easy acquisition, and the fact it won’t kill you instantly if it’s your first time eating personif the way cerebrospinal fluid would. If you are eating the blood of a personif for the first time and have not had exchange for very long with them, 1) please compare your existing knowledge of the personif to the BITE model one more time to make sure she’s not actually a cultspirit because a lot of cultspirits do this to signal that you’re taken to other personifs, 2) your safe dose is less than a cup. Exact dosages that will not result in you falling violently ill vary depending on person, but generally if you start feeling nauseous, stop and drink a normal liquid.

Fat and muscle are also relatively beginner-safe parts of a personif to try. The most common places of harvest are the thighs and forearms for reasons that are immediately apparent if you look at an impact play safety guide.

Organs! Now, I hope I don’t have to say that unless you have been provided with an adequate explanation for how they were able to source organ meat from a living personif that doesn’t entail torture, you probably shouldn’t eat it and it would be wise to leave immediately and call anyone other than the SCP Foundation. Assuming you are sure the kidney on your table was sourced somewhat ethically, I’ll run through a list of some major organs and explain what they might taste like based on common symbolism associated with them. For OTJs and STJs, because NTJs don’t take as well to being eaten in general.

Eyes: they’re often crunchy like glass and may cut your mouth like glass would, but I’ve never put glass in that particular orifice of my body so I wouldn’t know. I also have never eaten an eye because the texture freaks me out.

Nose: it has been universally reported that it will taste the way the personif’s true body smells.

Lips: lecterns and mass protests.

Neck: I’ll be talking about that on @yourcityisanomega.

Heart: do NOT eat this unless you know the personif personally because you WILL die. I cannot emphasize enough that with these fuckers symbolism is everything. If you do know the personif well enough to not die, I can’t give you any pointers on the taste other than that it will be very strong, and you’ll likely feel as if you’re on the sugar high of your life afterward. Because you are. You’re high. You’re eating a creature made out of your own thoughts. You probably need to reevaluate your work-life balance. How are your children doing? Do you have children at all? Did you want to before you met this personif? (And for the love of the god that you’ve replaced with her don’t have children WITH the personif it’s got a higher chance of going wrong than fucking your sibling will and also if you know the personif that well you’re probably in charge of a major part of her and that’s dubcon by default.)

Liver, kidneys, anything part of the urinary system: it’s going to smell and taste like the wastewater treatment plant no matter what you do because that’s what it fucking is. Just don’t eat it.

Lungs: again, it’s going to taste the way the true body smells, but the texture will be much more interesting.

Anything in the endocrine system: odd choice, but okay. This is also probably a bad idea to eat as an initiation ritual because you’ll feel like a teenager all over again, and if you’re eating the adrenal glands, you’ve got a high chance of developing an anxiety disorder.

Stomach, intestines, anything in the digestive system: it might taste like actual food. Highly recommend if you’ve known the personif long enough for it not to be a shock. (I really like beef tripe so I’m probably biased on this.)

Reproductive system: @yourcityisanomega.

Brain/cerebrospinal fluid: if you’re not prepared the trip will be worse than Datura. Don’t. Just don’t. It is a controlled substance and you could be arrested, assuming you survive at all. Even a drop of the stuff can knock you out for days reliving the personif’s worst memories. And then you’ll spend the rest of your very short life doing nothing but worshipping them.

Now, why would you want to do any of this?

You might be curious—Geog definitely was. Or you might be French and this isn’t that far removed from your normal diet. But the most likely reason is that you want to ensure that someone can take you out of your personif, but they’ll never take your personif out of you. Eating them facilitates exchange and allows you a slight window into their mind, while you become more susceptible to their influence. Throughout history, many groups have drunken small amounts of personif blood to increase unity in dire situations, or larger amounts as a test of loyalty. The O5 Council requires daily consumption of Ira Siegel for a few months by those undergoing training for the position.

But exchange means letting an outside force manipulate your thoughts, and too much of it turns you into the personif’s puppet, or a very messy codependent father-daughter relationship like with Aaron and Ira. For those who don’t build up tolerance, the shock can kill.

I blame the goihumans discord server for everything.

[sapporomilktea]

i'm going to say something that makes me sound so incredibly anglocentric and terminally online but japanese social etiquette is so hostile to autism its insane

[badolmen]

“I don’t know why the op said this happened yesterday when this news is four months old”

This may shock you but it’s an election year in the US and even “the lesser evil” utilizes propaganda.

[dorkousloris]

the urge to give parkour habit to neets despite i have roy for that but neets a runner in some verses so im like........... i guess..... i will give them a treat of being a freerunner-

[saltatio-favillae]

'video cover letter' what do you *mean.* what do you mean

[dgaftilwedie]

listen. i know mista's canonically one smelly motherfucker. but i just wanna. inhale. i need to smell him.

[yeagersss]

Slight NSFW

Your husband!Sukuna is obsessed with your new body lotion.

He's obsessed with the way it makes your skin so soft and smooth and smell oh so nice.

He simply cannot resist you and you've realised that he'll do anything to have his way with you.

You just finished taking a nice, hot shower. A white fluffy towel wrapped around you while you were busy applying lotion on your arms.

And that's when you felt a pair of soft lips pressing against your exposed shoulder. You shiver.

"Love?"

"Hm."

Was all he said as he places another peck. This time his lips lingering and his large hand coming up to squeeze your hip.

You bite your lip and glance over to the mirror. To see him standing behind you. He was shirtless. Hair messy. His belt unbuckled and pants unbuttoned and hanging loosely against his hips, revealing his boxers. Seems like he was in the middle of getting ready to hop in the shower himself when he stopped and turned his attention towards you.

And it looks like he won't stop until he gets what he wants.

You sigh when his lips trail up slowly towards your neck, tongue darting out slightly to get a taste. You couldn't help but tilt your head slightly.

Slowly and slowly he reaches your neck and up and up until you feel his hot breath against your ear.

"You do this on purpose, wife. You know how I feel about this shit." His deep, baritone voice makes your knees weak.

You smile. "It's just a lotion."

"It's witchcraft." He inhales your scent and sighs. "Fuck... You smell lovely."

And then you feel it. Him tugging off the flimsy towel around your body.

"Sukuna, I just showered."

"Nothing wrong with showering twice."

You roll your eyes. "I'm done with my night routine. I'm not doing it twice."

It doesn't come as a surprise to you that he wasn't listening, slipping the towel off of you until it hits the floor.

"Sukuna."

He let out a growl in frustration.

"If you hop in the shower and take my cock, I'll do the damn house chores for the next two weeks."

You hum in thought until Sukuna became impatient and bit down on your neck. You gasp softly. "... Starting tonight?"

"Starting tonight."

"And... Six weeks?"

"Two."

"Five."

"Two."

"Four and a half and that's final."

"Damn it, woman—Fine. Deal. Now... get over here."

You giggle as he pulls you into the bathroom and presses his lips hotly against yours.

[robinsgrl]

rafe with a clingy and weird girl.

weird girl masterlist

main masterlist

rafe wasn’t always so buff. when you two first started dating he was sorta lanky. you would pinch his thin arms and tease him. when he starts buffing out? holy shit you can’t get enough of him.

he’s come home from the gym and the first thing you do is shove your face into his chest, inhaling him as you rub your face against his pecs. he wraps his arm around your head, practically suffocating you in him. “mell goo.” you mumble into his chest. your hand slowly trails up and you squeeze his pec. like it’s a boob. he hisses and smacks your hand away, shoving you playfully.

you pout, “i wanna squeeze.”

he snickers out a laugh, smacking your hand away from him again. “leave me alone.”

this brightens you up. “are you ticklish?” your tone is teasing, fingers twiddling at him.

he lets out a full bodied laugh at this, pushing your hands away again. “get off, weirdo.”

“just let me honk your tit and i’ll stop”

“i don’t have tits.”

“dude, they’re staring right at me”

“im not your dude”

“okay my beautiful dude let me honk it”

“im feeling very sexualized”

another time when you guys are getting ready for bed. he’s brushing his teeth and you’re applying under eye cream. his arms look absolutely delicious, flexing soflty as he keeps brushing. you can’t control yourself.

you chomp down on his bicep. he stares at you completely bewildered. “did you bithe me?” mouth full of toothpaste

“you looked yummy” you say it lamely. as if it’s no big deal

“you’re like a dog”

“only like? Let’s solidify that” you chomp the air

he laughs, playfully shoving your face away from him.“get away from me”

“come on, it’s just cute aggression. I need to get it out”

“cute aggression? you think im cute??”

you shrug again, nodding. “i’ll show you cute baby,” he scoops you up trodding you over to your shared bed as you laugh happily. “it’s my turn to honk and bite you”

[reignpage]

“Y’r a real clumsy pain in the ass, ya know that?” Toji’s making tsk sounds every time he finds a new scrape to clean up. It’s funny to see him look so concentrated – his brows are furrowed, he’s gripping your limbs firmly but gently, careful of his finger placements, and prodding here and there, determining if you need to go to the hospital. “Why’dya even think it was a good idea to go skateboarding? Fuck do you know about that?”

Ah, man. He’s really pissed. He rarely ever gets worked up like this. Sure, he gets annoyed or irritated – the man has the patience of a child, after all – but there’s a frantic quality to his movements, a hesitation before he applies the alcohol on your wounds, and a telltale dart of his eyes at your face after, searching for a wince or a flinch. 

Your thumb flies up, smoothing that wrinkle between his eyebrows. “If you get any more tense, you’ll blow a fuse, Toji.”

He grabs your wrist tight, scoffs, and then lays a frustrated kiss on the inside. 

“Whose goddamn fault is that? Fucking losing my mind here ‘cause you can’t be trusted to act like an adult. Turn my back for one shitty second and then y'r all crumpled up on the concrete, crying like a baby. Was worried you’d lose all your blood.”

The kitchen counter is cold beneath your legs and he must notice because a heavy hand of his rubs some warmth on one of your thighs, squeezing for comfort. 

Sheepish, you mumble an apology. 

“Sorry?” He’s flabbergasted in a way you've never seen him be. You almost want to laugh. “Don’t make that face. None of this is funny, ya damn brat.”

"It looked easy online! Everyone's doing it."

He makes an unamused sound. "If they tell you to jump, would ya?"

"Yeah, probably."

Not finding that funny in the slightest, he shoots you a glare. "Y'r a comedian now, are ya? And what? Y’r body's the punch line, that it? You just gonna throw it around everywhere without a single care in the world?"

Still feeling defensive, you pout. "Yeah, if I want. It's my body."

"No." His fist slams on the counter. The vibrations rattle your bones. "It's my body. It's the body of the woman I love. The body I feed, I hold at night, the body I need with me. My woman, my body. So, dammit, take care of it, will ya?"

Your eyes are rolling before you can help yourself. "You're being dramatic."

“Look at me.” He pinches your chin. There’s a silencing sincerity in his eyes. It’s serious, frenzied, pleading. It steals your breath, forcing you to the present and washing away that veil of courage you blanketed yourself under. The sting of all your wounds come to you like a wave, sweeping you under. Your injuries must have been worse than you first realised. “You can make light of this all you want, but you didn’t see what I saw. Didn’t hear what I heard – fuck, baby. You were crying. I ain’t never hear you sound like that before. And I don’t want to again. It broke my fucking heart.”

Jaw clenching, he eyes you all over, shaking his head. He still can’t believe this happened — scrapes like these aren’t meant for women, especially not his brilliant girl, who smiles too often and loves too much. His precious girl.

Every day, he worries over how hard he squeezes you in a hug, how much weight he’s putting on you when you cuddle, and how fast he moves when you’re around. This is the body he worships day in and day out and just like that, he’s reminded once again of how easily he could lose it all. How easily he could lose you.

Toji’s head falls onto your lap. His arms wrap around your hips. From your view, he looks somewhat like a child. He kisses your thigh, inhales deeply, and burrows his face tighter against you as if reminding himself you’re here and you’re okay and he’s not letting this happen again. 

“I’m sorry, Toji. Really.”

He scoffs again. God, he needs to stop doing that. “Yeah, you will be. ‘Cause I’m tying y’r uncoordinated ass to me. So if you wanna go down, y’r taking me with ya.”

“Deal.”

[sematarygirls]

⠀     ⠀   ♯┆Rafe Loves Your New Lotion.ㅤ  ۪ ୧

ᰋ. ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎he's such a softie‎ ‎ : ‎‎ ‎ ‎WARNINGS . . . fluff, sexual comments.   ̼ ₊

"Yeah, baby, bend over a lil' more for me," Rafe's voice came from his place propped up on his bed, watching you intently through the open bathroom door as you stood in panties and one of Rafe's t-shirts with one leg up on the bathtub, applying some body butter.

"Oh, quit being such a perv," you rolled your eyes, rubbing the thick substance thoroughly into your skin. You'd just went shopping—with Rafe's black Amex, of course—and picked up a bunch of new body care in new scents. You smelled absolutely divine, and your skin was as soft as ever already.

He groaned, flopping back dramatically. "Just come to bed already. Didn't you already put shit on your legs?" He complained—which he'd been doing since you'd gotten in the shower and denied him entry with you.

"That was body lotion. This is body butter," you explained, straightening up and applying it to your arms.

"Christ, you women and your products. What's the fuckin' difference?" He scoffed. You gave him a shrug in response. You didn't really know the difference or if using both made any difference at all, but you liked the routine of it all, taking care of yourself and basking in the rewards felt nice.

"Dunno," you said, turning off the bathroom light and walking into the bedroom. "But I like it."

"Fuckin' finally," Rafe mumbled, grabbing you when you got close enough and pulling you onto his lap. His entire demeanor changed the moment you entered his space, his face lighting up as he inhaled the intoxicating scent of you. "Goddamn, you smell fuckin' amazing," he groaned, burying his face in your neck and making you giggle.

"Not complaining now, huh," you rolled your eyes playfully, a smile on your lips as he ran his hands over your exposed skin, clearly enjoying the soft, smooth feel.

"Shut up," he mumbled, pressing a kiss right below your ear as he squeezed your thighs. "Fuck, baby, you smell like heaven. And your skin is so soft," he murmured, spreading your thighs apart slightly and running his hands down them slowly. "Jesus. No wonder you put half a fuckin' pharmacy on yourself." He teased, making you laugh again.

"I'm glad you like it," you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a quick kiss, already knowing that it was going to be nearly impossible to get Rafe to keep his hands to himself with this new regimen you had going. He was already obsessed with you, but now? Now, he was utterly addicted.

[dante-mightdie]

alpha!price who wants you to experience an enriched pregnancy. no busy cuties and polluted air, only the chirps of birds and fresh air filling your lungs. his lake cabin paired with a sturdy greenhouse, stocked with any fresh fruit or veggie you might want

hand-sewn maternity dresses from the local boutiques in town, which he would never expect you to trek to. arranges for the town doctor to travel an hour down to the cabin. hell, john will pick them up and drop them off if that’s what it takes

cozy rocking chair on the porch so you can watch him work on his pickup truck. his usual tobacco filled musk has slowly morphed into one of pine and fresh-cut grass. he’s always up, doing something. fishing for dinner or pulling those stubborn root vegetables from the ground

makes a whole ritual out of running your baths, measuring the temperature down to the very degree. safe soaps made from natural ingredients, lotions applied to your damp skin from the local farmer’s markets

the type of man who will go all out for your comfort. he will take the smallest room in the house, filling it with mattresses and duvets. plush pillows and velvety cushions. heaps of his washing tucked into random blanket forts for you to organise to your specific nesting needs

your favourite time of day is when he crawls into your nest as the sun sets. mattress springs creaking under his hefty weight. calloused hands smoothing over your bump, growing every day with his child. nose nuzzled into your neck so he can inhale your scent, lips grazing over the mark under your ear before he lathes over it with his tongue…

[hans-wh0re]

DEVOTION |

Pairing: Bf! Chan x gf afab reader C.W: Established Relationship, Soft Dom Chan, Fingering, Mild Daddy Kink, Penetrative Sex, Overstimulation, Brief Mention of Bite Marks, Some good aftercare (i hope)….. A.N: Just was in the mood for something soft (?). M so bad at writing soft things lmao. Again, don't have high expectations!

"...that's it," Chan breathes, the words a rough prayer against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His voice is low, guttural, thick with the reverence he only shows when he has you like this – utterly vulnerable, utterly his to care for, to pleasure, to break down. You're sprawled back against a mountain of pillows on the bed, legs spread wide for him, hips slightly elevated by the cushion he meticulously placed beneath you moments ago. Every nerve ending is alive, singing under the anticipation, under the weight of his intense, worshipful gaze.

He kneels between your legs, not touching you yet, just looking. His eyes, usually warm and crinkled with laughter, are dark now, almost black, pupils blown wide with focused adoration and simmering control. He takes his time, deliberately cataloging every detail – the flush high on your thighs, the way your breath hitches in your chest, the glistening dew already beading at your entrance, offered up just for him. This slow, visual consumption is part of the ritual, part of his service, making you hyper-aware, making you ache.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, finally reaching out. Not with his hands, not yet. He leans forward, his hair brushing against your inner thigh as he presses a soft, reverent kiss high up, near the juncture of your leg and hip. Then another, slightly lower. He works his way down, slow, deliberate kisses punctuating his progress, leaving trails of tingling heat in their wake. He noses at the damp curls protecting your mound, inhaling deeply, possessively. "Smell so fucking good," he groans, the sound vibrating against your skin. "So sweet. "

His tongue darts out, finally, tracing the outer lips with painstaking slowness, mapping your folds, tasting your readiness. You gasp, fingers fisting in the sheets beside you, already starting to tremble. He ignores your reaction for a moment, continuing his worshipful exploration, lapping gently, deliberately avoiding the most sensitive spot, drawing out the torture and building the need.

"Open for me, baby," he whispers against your slick flesh. "Show me how wet you are. Show me how much you want this." It’s a command disguised as a plea, and you obey instantly, letting your legs fall wider, offering yourself up completely to his ministrations.

He rewards you with a low hum of approval before finally focusing his attention where you ache for it most. His tongue flicks out, finding your clit. Not hard, not demanding, but with an exquisite, almost unbearable precision. He swirls around it, laves it gently, uses the flat of his tongue to apply broad, wet strokes that make your hips lift instinctively off the pillow.

"Mmmm, yeah," he breathes, pressing his face closer, deeper between your thighs. "Taste so good. Like mine." He flicks harder now, faster, finding a rhythm that syncs perfectly with the frantic pounding of your heart. He uses his lips too, creating a gentle suction around the swollen nub, pulling, tugging, sending shockwaves of intense pleasure radiating through your entire body.

You're panting now, incoherent little whimpers falling from your lips. Your hands reach down, tangling in his soft hair, not to push him away, but to hold him there, closer, needing more. He allows it, leaning into your touch, but his hands come up, gently but firmly capturing your wrists, pinning them to the pillows beside your head.

"Uh-uh, baby girl," he murmurs against your clit, his voice thick with control now, the earlier reverence giving way to delicious dominance. "Hands stay right here. Can't have you distracting me from my work, can I?" He punctuates the words by sucking harder, pulling your entire clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue relentlessly around the ultra-sensitive peak.

A sharp cry rips from your throat. It’s too much, unbearably good. Your vision whites out for a second. He knows exactly what he’s doing, knows precisely how to push you right to the edge with just his mouth, his tongue, his meticulous, worshipful attention that somehow feels more controlling than any rough demand.

He feels you starting to build towards release, feels the subtle clenching of your inner muscles and the way your breath hitches and quickens. He pulls back slightly, just enough to break the intense suction, leaving you whining, suspended in agonizing anticipation.

“Not yet,” he whispers, licking a slow, deliberate path from your clit down towards your entrance. He noses at your slick folds, inhaling deeply again. “Haven’t even tasted how deep you get for me.”

Before you even can protest, his tongue plunges inside you. Thick, strong and surprisingly long. He explores your inner walls with shocking intimacy, tasting your slickness, learning the tight channel that usually only his cock gets to know. He swirls, presses upwards against your G-spot drawing lazy circles. You gasp, hips bucking wildly now, straining against the phantom pressure, utterly helpless.

He moves back to your clit, tongue flicking rapidly, expertly, while simultaneously—fuck—he slides two fingers deep inside you. Stretching you, filling you, pumping in a steady rhythm that perfectly complements the frantic work his tongue is doing. The dual stimulation is insane. Overload. You feel the orgasm rushing towards you like a freight train, unstoppable.

“That’s it,” Chan breathes against your skin, his voice rough with his own barely contained arousal. He can feel you trembling violently, feel the way your cunt is clenching desperately around his fingers. “Let go for me, baby. Cum all over my face. Show me how good I make you feel.”

His fingers pump faster, harder inside you, while his tongue becomes a merciless blur against your clit. You scream, a raw, broken sound this time, as the orgasm finally crashes over you, hot and shattering. Your body convulses uncontrollably, inner walls milking his fingers, hot slickness flooding out, coating his chin and his cheeks. You feel utterly undone, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, lost in the consuming intensity of the release he so expertly orchestrated.

He doesn’t stop immediately. He keeps his fingers moving inside you, keeps his tongue pressed firmly against your still-pulsing clit, riding out the aftershocks with you, ensuring you feel every last tremor. Only when your frantic whimpers subside into soft, exhausted sighs does he finally withdraw, pulling his fingers out with a wet, sucking sound.

He lifts his head, pushing his damp hair back from his forehead. His face is flushed, lips slightly swollen, eyes dark and hooded with sated desire. Your slickness glistens on his chin, maybe even a smear near his temple. He looks utterly debauched. Utterly beautiful.

He leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your quivering inner thigh, right beside the evidence of your release. Then he looks up at you, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face.

“See?” he whispers, his voice thick with possessive tenderness. “Told you I’d take care of you.” He reaches up, gently wiping a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Always taste best when you’re completely falling apart for me.” He pauses, letting his gaze drift down to his own lap, where his cock strains visibly against the fabric of his sweatpants, thick and undeniably hard. “Ready for me to return the favor?”

You're still trembling in the aftermath, muscles quivering, skin hypersensitive, cunt throbbing with a residual ache that’s more pleasure than pain. You stare up at him through hazy, blissed-out eyes, watching the blatant evidence of his arousal tenting the front of his grey sweatpants. The sight sends another wave of heat, less frantic now, more of a deep, pooling warmth, through your belly. You can only manage a weak, shaky nod in response to his question. Ready? You feel like you might liquefy if he touches you again, but god, yes. You're ready. You need it.

He smiles that slow, knowing smile again, the one that makes your insides melt. "Good girl," he murmurs. He doesn't rush. He reaches over to the nightstand, retrieving a small bottle of lube – not because you need it, fuck no, you're practically dripping for him – but because he likes the ritual, likes the feel of the cool slickness on his fingers before he touches you again.

He pumps a generous amount onto his hand, rubbing his palms together, warming it slightly. Then, those warm, slick fingers return to you. He spreads your folds gently, deliberately exposing your swollen, pink entrance, still glistening from your earlier orgasm. He circles the opening with one slick finger, teasingly, making you squirm and whine softly beneath his touch.

"So wet," he praises quietly, his voice thick with appreciation. "Always so ready for me." He slides one finger inside, easily finding the slick channel his previous ministrations prepared. Then a second, stretching you slightly, moving slowly, deliberately reacquainting himself with your inner contours. "Feels so fucking good, baby. So tight."

He adds a third finger, pushing deeper now, knuckles pressing firmly against your clit with each inward stroke. You gasp, hips lifting off the pillows again, chasing the sensation. He curls his fingers inside you, finding that sensitive spot high on your front wall, and applies steady, rhythmic pressure.

"Right there?" he asks, already knowing the answer from the way your breath hitches and the way your inner muscles clench around his invading digits. "You like it when Daddy presses right there?"

This time the title doesn't feel cringy. It feels... right. Earned. Acknowledging the power dynamic, the absolute control he has over your pleasure right now. "Yes," you choke out, voice trembling. "Please... Chan... Daddy... yes..."

Hearing you say it, hearing the desperation, the surrender in your voice, makes his own cock give a hard jump beneath his sweatpants. A low groan escapes him. He works his fingers faster now, pumping in and out, using his thumb to mercilessly rub your clit in frantic circles. He brings you up quickly, efficiently, building the pressure again until you're writhing beneath him, whimpering his name, begging.

"Almost there again, aren't you?" he whispers, leaning down, his forehead pressing against yours. Sweat beads on his upper lip. "So easy for me to make you come apart." He slows his fingers slightly, dragging out the torture. "But you want my cock now, don't you? Want to feel me stretching you open? Filling you up completely?"

"Yes! Please, yes!" you sob, utterly desperate now.

"Good," he breathes against your lips. He pulls his slick fingers out, leaving you aching and empty for only a heartbeat. He quickly shucks off his sweatpants and briefs, revealing his cock fully. Thick, long, vein-ridden, head glistening pink and weeping pre-cum. It’s beautiful. Intimidating. Perfect.

He positions himself between your spread thighs again, the head of his cock nudging against your slick entrance. He doesn't thrust in immediately. He pushes just the tip inside, stretching you slightly, letting you feel the blunt pressure. He watches your face intently, watches your eyes flutter shut, watches your lips part on a shaky sigh.

"Take me," he murmurs, his voice rough with need. He places his hands flat on your stomach, pressing down slightly, holding you in place. Then, slowly, deliberately, inch by agonizing inch, he pushes himself inside you.

It's an incredible feeling. Stretching, filling, a satisfying pressure that borders on pain but tips entirely into overwhelming pleasure. You gasp, eyes flying open, fingers digging into the sheets as he sinks deeper, and deeper, until he's buried completely to the hilt, stretching you fuller than his fingers ever could. He holds himself there, perfectly still for a long moment, letting you adjust, letting you both savor the feeling of absolute connection, of him completely possessing you.

"Fuck," he groans, dropping his head back, eyes closed now, a look of pure bliss mixed with intense concentration on his face. "Feels... incredible, baby. Always."

Then, he starts to move. Slow, deep, deliberate thrusts. Pulling out almost completely, feeling the drag of your inner walls clinging to him, before sinking back in with exquisite slowness, ensuring you feel every inch, every ridge, every vein. It’s not rushed. It's sensual. Controlled. Each movement is precise, aimed at maximizing the friction, the deep pressure against your cervix and the stimulation of your G-spot.

He whispers praises constantly now against your ear. "That's it... take my cock... feel how deep I am inside you... such a good girl... gripping me so tight... fuck, you feel perfect..." His words, combined with the slow, deep fucking, are driving you insane. The pleasure builds again, slower this time, deeper, coiling heavily in your core.

He senses it. He always does. He quickens his pace slightly, thrusts becoming deeper, harder, hitting that perfect spot again and again. His hands find your hips, gripping tight, tilting you just right, angling himself for maximum impact. His breath comes in harsh pants now, the control slipping slightly as his own pleasure builds.

"Chan... Daddy... I'm..." you gasp, feeling the familiar signs, the tightening low in your belly, the trembling in your thighs.

"Yeah, baby, F-uckkk, I know," he pants back, his forehead slick with sweat, pressing against yours again. "Cum for me again. Let me feel you break around my cock." He pounds into you, faster now, harder, abandoning the slow control for raw, driving need. He watches your face crumple, hears your breath shatter into ragged cries as the orgasm rips through you, even more intense this time, fueled by the sheer fullness of him inside you, milking him shamelessly.

Your climax triggers his. And with a final, guttural roar, he drives deep one last time, burying himself as far as he can possibly go, and floods you with his release. Hot, thick spurts pump inside you, coating your inner walls, filling you completely. He groans your name, shuddering violently, collapsing onto you, pinning you beneath his spent weight, his heart hammering against yours.

He stays buried inside you for long, languid moments, letting the echoes of both your orgasms fade, feeling the gentle pulse of your cunt settling around him. His breathing slowly evens out, the harsh pants softening into deep, steady breaths against your ear. He doesn't pull out immediately; there’s a possessive comfort in just being there, connected, filling you.

Finally, with exquisite slowness that makes your muscles clench weakly one last time, he withdraws, leaving you feeling hollowed out but strangely complete. He doesn't just roll away. No, Chan’s aftercare is as meticulous and focused as his fucking.

He props himself up on one elbow, his other hand immediately coming up to gently cup your cheek. His thumb strokes softly across your damp skin, wiping away a lingering tear track you hadn’t even realized was there. His eyes, still dark but no longer holding that fierce intensity, are incredibly soft now, filled with a profound tenderness that makes your heart ache in a completely different way.

"Hey," he whispers, his voice low and gentle, still slightly rough from exertion but stripped of all command. "You with me, baby girl?"

You manage a weak nod, blinking up at him through heavy lids, feeling utterly boneless, utterly cared for.

He smiles, a soft, genuine curve of his lips. "Good," he murmurs leaning down, and pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead, then your temple, then the corner of your eye where the tear was. Each touch is impossibly gentle, worshipful. "You were incredible," he whispers against your skin. "Absolutely perfect for me. Took everything I gave you like a fucking dream."

The praise, so different in tone from the filthy demands earlier, still sends a warm flutter through you. He pulls back slightly, his gaze drifting down your body, taking in the flushed skin, the faint bite mark already purpling on your shoulder from before, and the slickness still glistening on your inner thighs. There's no judgment in his eyes, only appreciation. Adoration, even.

"So beautiful," he breathes. "All messy and mine." He reaches for the rumpled duvet, pulling it gently over your lower body, tucking it around your hips with careful hands, cocooning you in warmth.

He slips off the bed, padding quietly towards the ensuite. You hear the sound of water running. He returns moments later with a warm, damp washcloth, smelling faintly of the gentle soap he uses. He kneels beside the bed again, his movements unhurried, focused entirely on you.

"Lift up a little for me, sweetheart," he murmurs. He helps you shift slightly, then begins to gently clean you. His touch is reverent as he wipes away the mingled fluids from your inner thighs, the slickness from your stomach, the drying come from his own body that might have transferred onto you. He's careful around your still-sensitive clit, his touch light, respectful, a silent apology for the earlier intensity. There's no shame in his actions, only care. It feels incredibly intimate, profoundly soothing.

Once he's finished, he tosses the cloth aside and retrieves a soft towel, drying you with the same gentle care. His fingers linger on the angry red bite mark on your shoulder. Before he leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss right onto the mark. "Mine," he whispers again, the word now purely possessive tenderness.

He pulls a clean, oversized t-shirt – his t-shirt – from his drawer and helps you sit up, sliding it carefully over your head. It smells like him, clean and comforting, engulfing you in his scent, before he guides your arms through the sleeves, his fingers brushing softly against your skin.

He disappears again, returning with a glass of water. "Drink," he urges softly, holding it to your lips, helping you take small sips, and watches you intently, making sure you're okay, his brow furrowed slightly with concern now, the dominant edge completely replaced by gentle solicitude.

Finally, he slides back into bed beside you, pulling you carefully against his side. He wraps his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin, his body still warm and solid against yours. He doesn't initiate anything more, just holds you, his hand stroking slowly, rhythmically, up and down your back.

"Just rest now, baby," he murmurs into your hair. "You earned it." He presses a final kiss to the top of your head. "Did so good for me. Always do."

And wrapped in his arms, surrounded by his scent, lulled by the steady beat of his heart against your ear and the soft cadence of his quiet praise, you finally drift off, feeling utterly cherished, utterly safe, utterly his.

A.N: This was unexpectedly long, sorry. M not 100% satisfied by how this turned out (i told u m so bad at writing soft things bye i wanna cry), but yeah posting it is better than letting it rot in my drafts. Anyways, plz be nice in the comments 🥹🥹

[acorviart]

hobby crafts and great and everyone should get into a hobby craft, but I really really really really need people to do at least a little bit of research into what they’re interested in and learn important things such as that fact that polymer clay, air-dry clay, and resin are NOT food safe. yes that includes clay that’s been coated in a clear coat like mod podge (the dishwasher safe mod podge is not food safe)

the reason that some* ceramics are food safe is because glazes melt into essentially a thin layer of glass on the surface, and the clay is heated to a temperature that vitrifies it. and I say some because not all ceramics/glazes/firing temps are food safe, and that’s a whole other deep dive of research for people who get into ceramics. but the point is that most people can’t do that at home, so they look into non-ceramic materials and assume that’s a cheaper and easier way to make food-safe items, when really what’s going to happen is all these materials will leach into your food, especially with heat applied

also can resin creators wear proper PPE with gloves and respirator, I am begging you, that shit is toxic to touch and inhale

[vivimura]

titty obsessed riki ─ nsfw, nudity, 0.853 k wc (bye this is so lazy), nipple piercings, big chested reader, requested, hope u like it tho :(

riki inhaled sharply as you removed your tee, those perfect tits bouncing slightly with the motion. 

he stared at you silently, your piercings glinting in the light, those perfect peaks with pretty barbell piercings through them so close to his face he could lean forward and capture one into his mouth.

“pretty..” his voice was pure gravel, and his eyes were hungry. he slowly brought one hand up to trace the outline of one pierced nipple, making you shiver "god, these are hot as fuck..."

he slowly raised his other hand to cup both your tits carefully. soft. goddamn, they were so soft. he slowly ran his thumbs back and forth over your hardened nipples and piercings.

giggling softly at how utterly infatuated he seemed with your chest, you cricled your arms around his neck and dug your fingers into his hair, as if to motivate him to keep going.

he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to one of your nipples before sucking it into his mouth, his tongue playing with the barbell. his other hand kneaded the neglected gently.

you sighed, your face contorted into one of pleasure. the tension in your shoulders drooping, the subconscious frown on your forehead disappearing, instead being replaced by bliss. the soft hair of his bangs tickling against your chest and his clothed torso against your bare one felt so weirdly good.

riki tilted his head up at you through his long lashes, gauging your reaction. he watched your body carefully, noting how your back was slightly arched and your chest was pushed out towards him, as if you were offering yourself to him.

his hands began exploring the patterns of your ribcage, the soft skin of your stomach. he wrapped his lips around the cool metal and sucked gently, tugging on the piercing. 

you let out a small hiss, followed by a breathy moan at his sudden action. your fingers dug into his hair further, guiding his mouth. “gently,” you quietly whined out.

his dick throbbed and twitched at your breathy moan. he softened his touch at your whimper and chuckled, lapping gently at the sensitive bud instead of pulling.

he gazed up at you with hooded eyes filled with a strange mix of lust and adoration, a smirk playing on his lips. "sensitive, baby?" he murmured against your chest, voice vibrating deliciously against your nipple.

“mhm..” you chuckled and rolled your eyes playfully at his teasing. just as you were about to speak, he pulled back slightly with a wet pop, blowing cool air over your wet, hardened nipple.

the action and cold sensation made you inhale sharply and exhale in the form of a whimper. your back began to arch further making your tits push further into his face, thighs subconsciously clamping in arousal.

riki noticed your reaction and a grin spread across his face. the fact that he could get you to be so reactive to his touches fueled his ego and desire to please you.

he leaned in and wrapped his lips around the other side, sucking gently at the bud and swirling his tongue around the metal bar. he pressed his thigh between your legs, applying gentle pressure.

his thigh pressing to your clothed heat relieved some of your arousal, but on the flip side, it made your craving for his touch maddeningly increase.

your nails slightly scraped into his scalp. his stimulation on your chest felt so damn good, not to mention his large hands caressing the soft skin of your sides and abdomen.

he wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you from squirming too much, and pulled away to bury his face right between your chest. he playfully licked your sternum and inhaled your scent deeply, pushing his face into your pillowy chest, making you chuckle.

at the sound of your chuckle, he pressed his thigh harder against your clothed pussy, the friction making you squirm and whimper. you tugged at his hair, trying to pry his face away from your chest.

“riki, enough..”

he pulled back slightly to look at you, watching your breasts heave from arousal. he chuckled deeply and grinned. "enough what?" he asked softly, teasingly.

sighing a little out of impatience, you awkwardly mumbled out, "e-enough of... this," too shy to directly express your needs to take things further. you nibble on your lower lip and slightly ground on his thigh, hoping he’d catch the hint.

he chuckled at your shy attempt to get his attention, his eyes sparkling with amusement and desire. he leaned in and captured your lips in a soft, gentle kiss.

riki decided to take matters into his own hands, literally. as he kissed you, he wrapped his arms around your thighs and made you wrap your legs around his waist. with ease, he picked you up and kept you pressed against him, making you feel how is cock twitched in his pants.

he broke the kiss to look into your eyes with hunger and affection, keeping your chest pressed firmly against his as he walked towards the bedroom door, your hearts racing in sync from anticipation.

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