#making good progress on understanding his face tho

[act-iv]

More Alex you know how it is

[yanfeiimain]

"Sure, I'll play along" - Aventurine x Reader

c/w: not nsfw, suggestive at most! Aventurine saving you from your ex. strong language used.

words: 1.3k

a/n: I was literally playing, farming character exp and his voice line made my brain go boom. I'm still working on flip a coin tho so this isnt necesarily perfect >.< Possible part 2 with smut??

You were sitting at the casino's bar, nervously playing around with your glass. you look around carefully, checking if he followed you. There were no faces you knew. You let out a shaky breath. The bartender shoots you a glance but you pay her no mind.

As someone sits down next to you, you jump and get ready to leave. "Just leave me alone asshole. I don't-" you say, wanting to escape as fast as possible.

"There's no need to be so mean." a young man says, giving a male bartender a note. "Oh gosh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to! I thought you were someone else…" you excuse yourself. You look at the man next to you, admiring his features. He has pretty blonde hair and captivating eyes. Your gaze lingers. And he notices.

"It's okay, don't worry." He says, smirking. "You got problems?" 

You sit back down, sighing, "Well, kinda, but what's it to you?" You continue nipping on your drink, not too sure of what to think of him. 

"Oh, nothing really, you just piqued my interest, dear," he says, "I mean, you just tried to cuss me out..." He fakes a hurt expression, swiftly changing back to his charming grin. 

He makes you smile a little, and you finally give in. "You want me to tell you about it, huh..." You take the final sip of your drink and put the glass back down. 

"Mhh, I bet it's interesting," he smirks, something glinting in his eyes. "Oh no, it's rather sad, honestly. Would you tell me your name first, though?" you ask, tilting your head slightly. You notice his fancy outfit, taking note of his extraordinary taste.

"Aventurine, pleasure to meet you..." - "y/n." - "Dearest y/n." 

They way Aventurine said your name made it sound oddly special. He certainly had a silver tounge. You feel your cheeks heat up, smiling a little wider, "Likewise, Aventurine." 

"Alright, y/n, tell me your story," he says and orders two more drinks for you both. You breathe and start telling him about your ex-fiance and how he treated you at the end of your relationship. He manipulated you and made you feel horrible. He used you as his personal servant, and every time you both went out, he belittled you and made you feel small. After a lot of thinking and gathering courage, you finally called off the engagement and left him. 

"And that's why you're so paranoid, I understand." He says, looking into your eyes. It makes you blush and feel slightly exposed. "Yeah... He's been following me, well, stalking me. Trying to get me to go back to him." Aventurine gently puts his gloved hand onto yours, and you admire his rings.

After a moment, you decided to break the silence, "Ah, but enough about me. What brings you here?" 

Aventurine hums, smiling once again, "Interested are we? But there's no special reason. I'm just here to gamble and I bet I'll win something good tonight."  He says it so nonchalantly like it's his daily life. It made sense, this is a casino after all. And there is this glint in his eyes again as he looks at you, clearly interested.

You both continue talking and order a few more drinks. The bartender watches you and probably has been listening in on your conversations but you, as well as Aventurine, pay it no mind. As the night progresses, you relax. 

However, just as you got comfortable, the alcohol playing its part, a tall figure enters the casino. You only noticed as he joins you and Aventurine at the bar, ignoring the latter. "Shit, that's him" you whisper, slightly nervous.

"Aventurine, could you help me out if he tries anything?" you feel insecure, basically asking a stranger to help you with your creepy ex. "Sure, I'll play along." Aventurine smiles. It was softer this time.

"Hey there, sweetheart, enjoying your night?" The guy on your right, your ex, says playfully, yet his face tells a different tale. He is annoyed, no, absolutely pissed off. "Oh, for the love of god, leave." you scowl. 

"Why should I? C'mon, I'm giving you one last chance to go back home with me, no consequences." he offers, but you know his disingenuous tone too well. "No way. Forget it. We are over." you deny him.

Looking to Aventurine for help, you blurt out, "And I'm already with someone who doesn't treat me like shit!" Proving your statement, Aventurine wraps his arm around you, his fingers grab your waist possessively. "Yes, that's right." 

"And who are you, peacock?" Your ex asks, looking at Aventurine with disgust, yet amusement.  "Aventurine, her lover," the blonde lies with ease, his face adorned with the usual smirk he wore so often that night.

"You whore, already sleeping around again? Have you forgotten who owns you?" he spits, insulting you like usual. The bartender starts to giggle. "Relax dude, they only just met. There's no way he would ever be with a gal like her." Aventurine shoots her a deathly glare and your ex laughs. 

"Oh my god, you are an embarresment. Get your lying ass out of here and come with me. And you, Aventurine, you should leave your dirty claws off of someone else's property." your ex scoffs.

"Ahaha... lovely but we're not playing pretend, are we?" Aventurine laughs and promptly pulls you onto his lap. You feel your stomach twist and heat creeps onto your cheeks. You now sit on his lap, facing him. You feel his soft breath on your neck as he pulls you to his chest.

"Right, darling?" You could feel his heartbeat quicken and Aventurine felt yours. "Of course not," you manage to breathe out. He lifts your chin with his gloved hand, you can feel the cold rings on your skin. They send shivers down your spine. 

Aventurine pulls you into a heated kiss, his soft lips moving against yours and you gasp in surprise, not expecting him to go so far. You melt into the kiss, completely giving in to the blonde. 

Your ex simply stares at you, his mouth slightly agape.  "Tch, that doesn't prove anything." Pretending it doesn't faze him, he rolls his eyes, the bartender scoffs as well and leaves.

You break the kiss, gasping for air. Aventurine smirks complacently and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "Whatever you say, friend." 

"Fine, have her. Just know that she is a filthy and unfaithful brat." With that, he turns around. "And this isn't over yet."

You let out a sigh of relief. He is finally gone. "What an asshole..." Aventurine mutters, making you realize what just happened.

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry! I asked for your help but you didn't have to go this far. I hope it didn't make you uncomfortable. I apologize! How could I ever thank you..." you ramble but Aventurine just cups your face and gives you a second, soft kiss. 

"No need to apologize, y/n. To be honest, I thoroughly enjoyed this night. It was certainly a nice surprise." He gently rubbed your cheek with his thumb, reassuring you. "As for how to thank me... There's no need." 

Your eyes widened, "Ah well, I'm glad you felt that way. But... Are you sure? You want nothing in return?" He shook his head, resting his other hand back on your waist. "Although, there is something you could do for me. If you want, that is." 

He grins mischievously. To be honest, he finds you alluring and wants to know get to know you. 

"Sure, what is it?" you ask, genuinely interested. "Spend the night with me."

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 🎃💦 ∘₊✧ 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟛𝟙 ✧₊∘

|| ︶꒦꒷𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥꒷꒦︶ | main masterlist ||

@absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 Prompts

Day 31: Free For All (I chose to interpret this as whatever I wanted to write, and so I chose innocence/corruption kink)

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤

| PAIRING(s):  Dave York x innocent!fem!reader | RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT:  7.1k | CONTENT: affectionate pervert catches feelings, dd/lg vibes sprinkled throughout, virginity loss, lots of firsts, inexperienced reader, religious trauma, feelings of shame/guilt/doubt, protective!Dave, he's still a smug asshole tho, soft dom daddy type shit, dacryphilia?, POV switching, sort of a loose time format in the progression of the story | SYNOPSIS: Your sense of identity finally fractures. Dave is there to help you learn who you really are.

"𝙱𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚠, 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎; 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔, 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙱𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠. —　Ａｌｆｒｅｄ　Ｔｅｎｎｙｓｏｎ

“What if you’re– what do you do if you think you might not be a good person? I mean– how do you know if you’re a good person?”

You’d asked him this almost four months ago now. Trembling hands. Teeth gnawing at your pouty lips. Downturned eyes misted with tears. The irony of you asking him of all people about what makes someone good or not wasn’t lost on him. 

He wasn’t exactly the paragon of virtue given his extensive, murky past, but you didn’t know that. There seemed to be a lot of things you didn’t know. You were so unsure of yourself, having been practically sequestered by your religious zealot parents from being able to learn much of anything even if you wanted to.

 He’d answered truthfully that a lot of people had different ideas of what made somebody a good person, and there wasn’t really a clear-cut answer. Your face had drawn into even more of a confused, lost expression. Your entire life had been a black and white dichotomy of purity vs evil, dictated by some bullshit ancient text that the people screaming at you from the podium every Sunday probably didn’t even believe or adhere to themselves.

“I’m afraid I’m a bad person,” you’d admitted to him in a strained whisper.

He could tell you were genuinely afraid. Again, he was tactful but truthful in his response: from what he knew of you, he didn’t believe that you were a bad person, but it wasn’t really his or anyone else’s call to make. You’d nodded and appreciated his candor, but it didn’t stop you from crying.

He’d brought you into a pacifying embrace, softly stroking your back, and trying his damndest to not let you feel his cock quickly hardening. You were so helpless and sad and confused, and he knew he could be the anchor you so desperately sought. Something certain. Something unwavering to tether yourself to until you weren’t so scared of becoming your own person.

“I don’t care if you’re a good person or not.”

You’d blinked in silent confusion when he said it, not quite understanding how such a thing was possible.

“I mean it. I like when you’re around. I don’t care if you’re good or bad. I like you just how you are.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I do. And I think you like being around me, too.”

You’d nodded your head firmly at that, eyes flitting away in embarrassment to admit it. Your mouth parted so exquisitely when he’d gingerly gripped your chin to make you look at him again.

“Say it.”

“I like being around you,” you breathed. “You make things feel less confusing. It doesn’t–It doesn’t feel so scary all the time, if I’m with you.”

From then on he’d taken it slowly so as to not frighten you away. You needed him. You needed his help, his guidance. Despite being 22, your austere parents and strict upbringing had kept you from certain social and emotional milestones. You were crippled with the sort of self-doubt he’d expect in a freshman trying out for the varsity team.

You started lying to your parents about your whereabouts so you could see him more often. That was the first major hurdle to cross. The agony of being dishonest was something that truly unsettled you. Something seemed to click, though, when he’d told you that people should earn your trust and that it wasn’t something to just give away freely, even if they were your family.

He could see it in your eyes, the way they held his and danced, that you understood. Trust was to be earned and given – not demanded and taken. He left out the part of his thoughts about how maybe you shouldn’t trust him too much, either. 

You’d felt a magnetic pull to him – authoritative and sure of himself – from the moment you met. You were too scared to admit and act on all the thoughts you had about him. It was the same thoughts that had you lying awake at night in your childhood bedroom, sobbing and fearful of an eternity in hell for all the things you felt for him.

But then you’d see him again, and he was kind. He made you feel safe. He made your brain quiet in a way you’d never experienced. You didn’t feel scared to do or say the wrong thing constantly. You wished so badly that he could see you in the same way you saw him.

He never made passes at you. He saw you as some charity case, probably. You weren’t exactly knowledgeable about how to present yourself as a sexual person or if you even were one to begin with. 

The illustrations in the 70’s health textbook you’d rented from the library in eighth grade didn’t make you feel very much. It all looked confusing and strange. One passage even said it wasn’t expected for women to orgasm at the same rates men did. You certainly weren’t going to insert anything into yourself, and rubbing your palm against your clitoral hood like the book said felt overwhelming and like you were doing something bad. Your body felt like it belonged to someone else and you were violating it.

That same year you’d pecked a boy on the lips. Nothing. He’d told you that you were a bad kisser and left you to quietly cry over it. A few years later you tried again, knocking teeth with a different boy as you tried to mimic the tips in those teen girl magazines you read in a hurry at the grocery store, shoving it back onto the rack before your parents caught you reading such explicit things. Both times had left you wondering if you perhaps were meant for the nunnery. Maybe you weren’t even attracted to anybody. Maybe you should stop trying. Maybe your life was destined to be a sexless, holy sacrifice. 

Dave had obliterated all such suspicions. Your entire body felt like it was on fire the first time you were close to him. Your inhales were so heavy and short the first time he patted your bicep in a gesture of kindness that he’d asked if you were having trouble breathing.

When he found out you’d up and left your parents house, unable to take anymore of their suffocating judgment and rules, he tracked you down to the underfunded women and children’s shelter that you were staying at. You refused his offer of paying for you to stay somewhere, but you couldn’t hold out when he insisted your only other option was to come stay with him until you were back on your feet. While you knew it would never come down to him dragging you out of there, he still warned you he’d do it if he had to. Part of you considered resisting just to feel his big hands scoop you up and maneuver your body like a limp little doll.

It was beyond your wildest dreams that you would be staying under the same roof as him, even if you were in the bedroom down the hall. He’d been so stern with you but not in the way your parents always were. He wasn’t callous and lashing out because you were some massive failure. He was upset with you, sure, but it was because you hadn’t come to him first before running off to a rundown shelter without any real plan of what came next. He’d gone on and on about how it wasn’t safe and how you should’ve known better than to not reach out to him.

When you broke down in tears at having let him down so spectacularly, his face softened immediately. He consoled you, held you tight, until the tears dried up. Your body trembled from the stress of it all. That’s when he’d said your nickname for the first time: bunny.

“You’re shaking like a frightened little rabbit,” he’d noted. “My little frightened bunny. You don’t have to be scared anymore, bunny. You understand?”

You sniffed and nodded and burrowed deeper into his hold. He wasn’t mad at you. He wasn’t disappointed. He just cared about you a lot and wanted what was best for you. You followed his guidance like a lost little puppy, and it felt so good to have someone to trust with your life. He tucked you into bed every night, and you pouted when he closed the door. You didn’t want to be in here by yourself. You wanted to be in his room. With him. Together.

But you weren’t sure how to say those sorts of things or if the feelings even made sense. It felt like you didn’t know much of anything, but Dave was slowly changing that. Maybe one day he could help you with these confusing feelings, too.

He noticed how you squirmed on the couch, clearly distracted by something you wanted to say but couldn’t. It was something he’d been trying to work with you on. He was patient no matter how many times you stammered and stalled and chickened out of whatever it was you were trying to say. Sometimes it was as simple as saying what you wanted for dinner. Other times it was something else, something a little more intimate.

He saw the way you watched him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. Your body certainly responded to him even if you couldn’t vocalize it yet. You didn’t even understand the way you drove him crazy with your peaked nipples showing through a soft, loose t-shirt or the way your shorts rode up your pussy when you sat criss cross on the counter in the morning and watched him work.

He determined very quickly that he couldn’t just let you out of here. The world would chew you up and spit you out. It would ruin you and break you. Some other man would come along and take advantage of you. They wouldn’t treat you right, not like how he would treat you. You were safe here and moldable. He could help guide you into a different person, the kind of person you wanted to be but didn’t even know it yet.

���Something bothering you, bunny?”

Your eyes go wide like you’ve been caught red-handed. Your face was so easy to read he almost felt a little guilty using it to manage the conversation.

“No,” you lie.

He tilts his head and pins you with an unconvinced look. “There’s no need to lie. You can trust me, you know.”

As he predicted, you’re immediately apologetic and placating, assuring him that you do trust him. He lets you fester in the anxiety for a few beats before holding up a hand to signal you stop, which you do immediately.

“You’re alright. Don’t be nervous. You can tell me anything.”

You nibble on your lip and look down to your hands, picking at the dead skin along your fingernails.

“Stop picking at your skin and look at me when you speak,” he says firmly but not unkindly.

Your big round eyes slide up to meet his probing gaze. You hug your arms around yourself and sit up straighter. “Um. I just… I was… I’ve been getting scared at night,” you admit.

“Scared? You don’t have to be—”

“It feels scary to be alone in there,” you amend.

You do your best to meet his eye. He’d known for weeks now that you wanted to share his bed with him. As much as he liked the idea of your body slithering against his all night, it was the only time he had to keep a clear head. It was difficult at times to be patient with your personal growth. He didn’t want to rush things, and your ass rubbing against his morning wood wasn’t something he was sure he could resist.

“If it would help, I can stay with you after I tuck you in. Until you fall asleep,” he offers like he hadn’t already prepped for this exact scenario.

It’s obvious you hadn’t expected him to extend time together in the intimacy of your room, and he can’t help but mirror the big smile that brightens your entire face. Your mood is buoyant the entire day and through the evening, all the way through your nighttime routine. He sits on the side of the bed like he always does, looking down at your cozied body all snuggled inside the comforter. What he doesn’t expect is for you to ask for more.

“I’m kinda cold,” you say with weak conviction. “Do you think, um, that maybe you could, like, rub my arms really fast? You know, like, friction? To make me warmer?”

He sees right through the farce but wants to reward you for speaking up. “Of course,” he hums gently. He runs his hands on your biceps through the comforter in moderately paced passes and watches your face go a little lax, your eyes slightly hooded. He rubs up and down your legs for good measure and has to hold back a chuckle at the little sigh you let out. He really shouldn’t, but he presses a kiss to your forehead and cups your jaw.

“Better now? You warm, little bunny?” he coos.

You made a squeaky sort of yes sound, and he smiles warmly down at you.

Every night now he tucks you in, runs his hands over your body to “warm you up,” and gives you a little kiss on the forehead. He stays until you fall asleep, which is very difficult with how worked up you get from his hands being all over you, even if it’s through a plush comforter. After a whole week of it, you actually grow a little bit moody and agitated. Your body feels like static electricity and restless, like something needs to happen to help it calm down.

You have to apologize to Dave when you get short with him over not wanting to finish eating your strawberries. It makes between your legs feel even more warm and sticky when he informs you that you will be finishing your berries and hand feeds you each and every one until the bowl is empty. You take his fingers just inside your mouth on the last one, just to feel them and suckle the juice. His usually stoic face pinches for a split second, mouth dropping open a little.

You think you might start refusing berries more often if you got to feel his hands in your mouth again. 

It was bound to happen. Your soft knock on his bedroom door at two in the morning. The low whisper of his name until he acknowledged you. He taps his bedside light on and watches your eyes bug when you realize he’s shirtless.

“What’sa matter?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.

Your long t-shirt dances across your bare thighs, no sleep shorts to be found. You fidget with your hands and move from foot to foot. “Can I please stay in here with you? Just for tonight? I won’t wake you up anymore. I just–I really need you, Dave.”

Your voice breaks on the last part, and he can’t send you back to your room like this, all agitated and nervous. He wordlessly lifts the blanket for you to join him, and you quickly crawl underneath it and whimper when he leans over you to turn out the light again.

“You wanna talk about it?” he offers even though he already has a fairly good idea of what the “issue” is. When you don’t respond, he drives the conversation forward in a more pointed direction. “You wanna tell me why you aren’t wearing any sleep shorts?”

“I had to take them off,” you choke out.

“Your legs are gonna get col–”

He stops short when his hand grazes over your bare hip. You’re not wearing anything at all under your t-shirt.

“It was too tight down there. It was all achy, and I had to take everything off. It was so bad, Dave. It was hurting. I couldn’t stand it any longer,” you rush to explain, sounding on the verge of a genuine panic.

“You ever have that happen before?” he feels out.

“Yes,” you mumble quietly.

“And what did you do before to make it go away?”

“I.. had a pillow tucked in between, and… nothing happened. It sort of made it worse. Until it went away after a while.”

“Is that what you tried tonight? And it didn’t work?” he probes.

“I get it worse and worse since I’ve been here, Dave,” you sniffle. “It keeps happening, ever since you warm me up after tucking me in.”

“You poor thing,” he coos. “S’that why you’ve been taking so long to go to sleep?”

You make a pathetic little sound of affirmation and clutch at him. He angles his hips away so you can’t feel how hard this is making him.

“Well I think I know how to help, but I don’t want to scare you.”

“I need your help, Dave. Please.”

He’s grateful for the cover of darkness to obscure his wolfish grin. “Have you ever made yourself come before, bunny?”

You whimper and tell him no but that you’ve tried. How your mind gets filled with shame and eternal damnation and fear. How you’re ashamed that you can’t even help yourself, like you don’t even know your own body. How helpless you feel. He calms you down and explains how he’s here to help you. You thank him endlessly, little errant tears finally drying up.

“I’m gonna help you tonight, bunny, but we’ll need to discuss it in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree.

He turns your back to him and pulls you flush against his chest. You startle at the feeling of his hard cock nudging at the swell of your ass through his sweatpants.

“Dave,” you whisper, nearly hoarse with nerves and fright.

“You’re okay,” he reassures you. “That’s just something that happens when a man is around a beautiful woman.”

“I don’t— I’m not ready for—” You start to sound panicked. This wasn’t how he was going to fuck you for the first time. For your first time. He wanted to savor every step of this. No rushing. He wanted to take you apart piece by piece until your body responded to his every word, every movement. His perfect little thing.

“Ssshh, it’s okay. It’s gonna stay where it is, okay? You might feel it because you’re pressing against it, but it’s not coming out today, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe in a sigh of relief.

“You don’t ever have to be nervous with me, bunny. You don’t have to be scared anymore. Not here.”

“Thank you,” you sniffle.

He whispers in your ear every small touch before he does it so you’re not surprised. He taps the light on again so he can see your face when he makes you come for the first time. It doesn’t take long, just a few delicate circles against your soaked clit. You’re bucking and crying and trying to hold onto him as you experience it all for the first time. You thrash around until you’re facing him, and then you wrap your entire body around him and hold on for dear life.

He smiles against your temple, tells you how wonderful you did, how beautiful you are. He ignores his erection, so tight and hard that it’s painful, until you fall asleep. He takes care of it in the bathroom before slipping back into bed with you. There’s no going back now.

It was the best night of your life. It was the best sleep of your life. You woke up to Dave reading news articles on his phone, waiting patiently for you to wake up. Your body was clamped to his like you might float away if you didn’t hold on tight enough. He didn’t make you feel embarrassed about anything. He just asked how you were feeling and if you were feeling better, if he had helped you at all. You assured him he had and thanked him a million times over.

When you talked about what had happened, he asked that you always let him know if you were feeling like that so he could help you. So, you did. Every night for the next four nights. Then it happened during the day, just after breakfast on the couch. He was slower that time. More methodical. More watchful. Trying out new ways to help you.

“No, don’t think about it. Keep your eyes on me and focus on how it makes you feel,” he instructs with a firmness that had you complying within seconds.

His fingertips are wide and heavy on your tongue. Saliva is starting to pool and stick to his fingers. You grasp at his wrist with both hands to bridge the gap between your bodies.

“Good. That’s good. Keep going.”

You lift the tip of your tongue and let the heft of his fingers weigh it down. Without thinking, you gently suckle. Dave’s eyes grow dark and focused, and it makes you suckle again and harder.

“There you are,” he breathes. “Just focus right here – focus on me.”

You whine at the encouragement, eyes feeling heavy and fogged, and split his fingers with your tongue. Your mouth hangs open with the movement, and he takes the opportunity to slowly rub his fingers back and forth along your gums.

“You like the way I feel in your mouth, bunny?”

The double meaning is nearly lost on you, but your cheeks burn with the confusing need his ambiguous, suggestive question drowns you in. Your brows scrunch in concentration. You pull his fingers out of your mouth just enough to answer.

“I like you in my mouth,” you whisper. “It feels good. You feel good. You make me feel good.”

He hums a lazy acknowledgement, draws his fingers back together, and slides them back into your mouth on the span of your tongue. “Suck.”

You oblige with a tentative suction that grows stronger with a few pulls.

“Good. That’s so good, bunny. You’re such a good girl for me.”

I can be good for you echoes in a scream inside your head.

As if every thought is plastered onto your forehead, Dave coos, “I know you want to be so good for me, don’t you? I know you can be such a good girl just for me, isn’t that right?”

A crackly moan gets stuck in your throat as you mindlessly bob your head in agreement.

“I wanna see just how much you like it.”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth until they release with a soft slurping pop. His hands are already pushing the hem of your nightgown up your thighs like some theater curtain rising to debut the show.

“I’m gonna give her a little kiss, okay?”

You don’t have time to process what he means before his hot mouth is pursed around your clit. You fall apart in record time, overwhelmed with how there was something else that could feel so good. He never stopped making you feel so good.

You can’t stop thinking about more. You worked up the nerve to ask Dave if there were books or websites you could use to learn about sex and intimacy. He always found you the perfect article and even read it to you. Everything was handpicked by him and explained without making you feel dumb. Just hearing him say the words aloud was enough to get you going. It was mostly information about what things were called or how exactly things worked, but he made it sensual nonetheless.

Dave snores softly next to you, but you’re wide awake. The electric pull to have him do more to you made it difficult to sleep last night. You’re not even sure how to ask for it. You’re not even sure what more means in the grand scheme of things. You just know that following his words and whims felt safe and warm and intoxicating. You want him to show you more. You want to be good for him again. He finally stirs awake, and you immediately pounce.

“I-I can’t – couldn’t really sleep last night. I- Can I be good for you again?”

A sleepy, self-satisfied smile creeps onto his features. “Of course, bunny. You’re always good for me.”

You exhale a deep breath that had been lodged in your chest. Every time he spoke felt like a warm blanket wrapping around you, making you snug and safe.

He rubs his eyes and sits up against the headboard. A funny expression crosses his face just before he asks if you want to “see him.” He tilts his head, motioning to his groin.

You gulp but tell him yes. It’s unnerving, but you’re already getting wet just seeing the outline of his cock against the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Take it out,” he says softly.

You swallow hard again but tug his waistband down, flinching when the heft of him smacks against his stomach.

“Go on and give it a kiss,” he says, low and secret. Just something special between the two of you.

You eye his hard cock with hesitance, knowing full well that you were supposed to somehow fit this thing in your mouth eventually. It was oral sex – a “blowjob” according to the sites you and Dave had been looking at – but you weren’t sure how to do anything, even with your readings.

“Just a little kiss, bunny,” he encourages, holding it firmly at the base in his big hand that makes it look a little less imposing. “Just like how you had my fingers in your mouth. And look at me when you do it.”

You hold his eye as you sink down between his legs. He rubs the head across your soft lips and groans when the tip of your tongue sneaks out to taste it. It smells warm and masculine, so very much Dave. Something about that is comforting and makes you less nervous.

You kiss it like the first time you kissed his mouth. You try to remember how you intuitively suckled his fingers and replicate the movements. Seeing him experience pleasure because of something you were doing was like a drug. His breath hitched as you wrapped your lips around the head, and you wanted to hear that gorgeous sound on repeat until the end of time. You don’t get as long as you’d like, but he explains that you’re making him feel so good he worries he might come too soon.

You feel hot all over when he tells you to prop yourself up against the headboard and spread yourself open for him. You hold your pussy lips apart, just like he said, and watch him tug on his cock. You might be able to do that for him one day soon, you think. You study the movements so you can use them, too, like a cheat code. Your breath stills when he jerks his load all over your spread out pussy. The warm trickle of it drips down and splashes onto your thighs. It feels nice.

“C’mere,” he grunts the moment he’s done spilling all over you. 

He lays down again and hauls you over to sit on his belly, thighs hugging his torso. His cum smacks and sticks against his skin where your pussy is seated against him.

“Rub yourself on me,” he orders. 

He braces his hands on your hips and starts guiding you to rock back and forth. You rest your hands on top of his and try to follow his motion. The friction feels nice, something vulgar and sensuous about wriggling around with his cum plastered all over your privates.

“Lemme see you come, just like this,” he rasps.

You try and try, but you can’t bring yourself to climax. You’re growing more frustrated by the minute that you can’t come. You feel aroused. You want to come. Your brain is holding you hostage yet again. As usual, Dave takes notice of your internal struggles.

“Can’t get there on your own, hm?” he asks with a tone dripping in amusement and arrogance.

You shake your head, slightly embarrassed but mostly worked up.

“Aw, no? That’s what I’m here for. I’ll help you feel good, bunny. Just ask really nice for it, and I’ll make you feel good.”

“I need you to make me feel good,” you whine. “Please. I can’t do it. I need you to make me feel good, Dave. Please.” 

He keeps one hand on your hips and pushes for you to rock faster. His other hand snakes between your folds and plays with your clit.

“So good for me.”

You come undone, rocking yourself back and forth through the rhythmic spasm of your walls. You’re panting still when he swipes two fingers beneath your entrance and scoops up the mixture of fluids. He holds it in front of your face, and you think you know what he wants you to do. You suckle his fingers and swallow down the mixture. It’s bitter and tangy and earthy. Not the worst thing you’ve ever tasted, but the texture is strange. He repeats the act and tells you not to swallow. It’s thick on your tongue, your mouth flooded now. 

“Open your mouth.”

You aren’t sure why he’d want you to do that when he’s just filled your mouth, but you trust him.

“Wider. Let it drip out.”

You roll your tongue forward, sending your spit and mixed fluids over the edge of your lip and dripping down your chin and onto your chest. He watches you with a restrained fire and smears it across your chest. You buck at the sensation when he thumbs your nipple.

“So sensitive,” he says quietly, almost to himself.

“Sorry.”

His eyes flick up to yours at the shame laced apology. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re so good for me. You did everything so well for me, bunny.”

You smile shyly at the encouragement. He always knows just what to say.

He was practically toying with you now. Every little thing was new to you, and every little thing made you a pliant, responsive mess for him. You were eager in a way that made him feel young again. Your mood had improved significantly since you moved in with him. You didn’t say unkind things about yourself as frequently. You were learning how to ask for the things you wanted. You were speaking with confidence and holding your head a little higher.

You were over the moon at the most basic things, to the point that it almost aggravated him that you had been given so little before you met him. You deserved so many things. You looked beautiful at the special little dinner he’d arranged for your birthday. You cried over your gift – a small, unused corner of the house that he’d fashioned into a little makeshift library with two plush seats and a small table for coffees and teas and snack cakes.

You loved reading. Mostly classic romance novels, but some surprising choices as well, like murder mysteries and thrillers. You never got to read much of what you wanted to growing up, but those kinds of rules didn’t apply here. He listened to you relay the stories to him, holding back a laugh when you told him all about the scary hitman villain from your most recent read.

“And he’s-he’s, like, an assassin, you know? And, oh my gosh, I know he’s supposed to be bad and everything, but I think it’s so… I actually sort of like how he’s just so good at being bad, you know? He’s an expert in all kinds of stuff. That’s how he doesn’t get caught. It’s just, UGH. It’s so good! He sounds kinda handsome, too. From the description and all. Do you think they made it into a movie? Could we see if they made it into a movie, Dave? And watch it?”

He likes to think that if you knew the real him that you wouldn’t care if he was good or bad, either. Just like he didn’t care if you were good or bad. Although, you were most decidedly good through and through. He encouraged you to write. It was a good outlet for you, he thought. You weren’t even shy about reading your little stories to him. He thinks about your next birthday and having your stories bound by a professional bookshop.

You’re leaning over the counter reading again when he comes up behind you and curves his wide hands along the front of your thighs. He rests his head beside yours to keep your eyes straight ahead. You shiver and sigh when he rubs the folds of your pussy lips, one each between his middle and pointer fingers. He holds them while he wedges his fingers together, softly pinching your clit.

“Keep yourself up, bunny,” he purls.

He’s setting you up for failure. He knows your legs are already trembling. They’ll give way when you come, and he’ll be there to catch you and steady you. Your entire body shakes as you climax, and your balance slips just like he knew it would.

“Poor baby can’t even stand up once I get my hands on her,” he breathes in a laugh.

You shoot him a pouty look, and he can’t help but grin.

Another lazy, dreamy evening together. It was supposed to be bedtime, but then you’d started grinding on his thigh and things devolved from there. He holds you from behind and alternates between fucking you with his fingers and palm hitting your clit with small, quick pussy slaps. You buck and gasp, not entirely sure if you are enjoying it or not.

“What a messy little pussy,” he groans in your ear. “So wet I had to give it a little spanking.”

Your breath trembles when he starts talking. His words shut down your brain and put you into your body, hyper aware of every sensation. You swear you feel more arousal drool out of you.

“Yeah, I feel how much wetter this pretty cunt is getting just from being spanked.” He pulls his hand out and slaps your clit again, drawing a loud moan from you. He laughs under his breath at your reactivity.

He gives one harsh slap and immediately presses all four fingers flat against your clit and starts wiggling back and forth in a blur. You come hard and loud. 

He flips you on your back and spreads you open, rubbing his dick between your engorged lips.

“Fuck me,” he groans. “Look at these lips, all fat and wet from being spanked.” He presses them tight around his cock, and you whine at the overstimulation. He shushes you gently. “Be good for me. Be a good girl and let me fuck this puffy pussy.”

He thrusts lazily through the envelope of your swollen lips, pulling away at the very last second to spill all over your stomach. He feeds it to you, and you readily suck his fingers clean. He smiles when you open your mouth to show him you swallowed it all down.

The shame creeps up again after you use the bathroom and join Dave at the sink where you brush your teeth together every night. You’re quiet,  feeling conflicted about how you enjoyed him popping his hand against your privates and talking about them so crudely, almost like he was using your body solely for his own pleasure. You feel guilty and like you shouldn’t have enjoyed it. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” he notes.

Your eyes go wide. You were so lost in your thoughts you’d almost forgotten he was there. You shrug and brush your teeth for an excuse to stall. Even when you’re done you struggle to keep eye contact. “Was what happened earlier okay?”

He tenses, and you think he might misunderstand what you meant. Like maybe  you were upset about how he’d treated you.

“Did you feel uncomfortable with what I was doing? You wish I hadn’t done it?”

“No, it’s not that,” you insist. You chew your bottom lip and try to not let the waves of guilt consume you.

“Tell me what you’re thinking right now,” he demands, firm but not unkind. “And look at me when you answer.”

Your misted eyes find his, and his expression morphs into a softer, consoling expression. 

“Is it bad I liked it?” you ask, each word stumbling from your tongue.

“Is it bad you liked what?”

“When you… how you were .. touching me… sl-slapping it.. down there,” you practically whisper, feeling mortified and childish and unsure of yourself.

“Did it feel good?”

You nod.

“Then it’s not bad that you liked it.”

“But.. why did I… why did I like it?”

“You’re feeling ashamed because you liked it? You think you shouldn’t enjoy something like that?”

You sniff and nod. He pulls you close to him.

“When two people trust each other, there’s all sorts of ways you can explore and push boundaries. Sometimes you find a hard limit, and other times you find what you thought was the limit ended up being flexible and changeable.”

“What does that mean, though?”

He cups your face and tilts it back for you to fully look at him. “It means, bunny,” he says, steadfast and confident, “that you don’t have to accept what you thought were your limits. You’re free to learn and feel new things.”

“So why do I feel … why do I feel so guilty?”

“Because you’re unlearning all the lies you were told your entire life. That you should be ashamed about anything that makes you happy or makes you feel good.”

“Yeah…..” you concede.

He cradles your face and noses your forehead. “You’re experiencing all these new things with me. It’s good to learn what you like and what makes you feel good. I told you that’s what I’m here for. I’m here to take care of you, to make you feel good. To keep you safe and happy.”

You clear your throat and sniff away the emotion building up. “So I’m not a bad person for liking it?”

He smiles that lazy, arrogant way that makes your heart flutter. “No, bunny. You’re my good girl, remember? And good girls get to be nasty sometimes and get away with it. You can be bad when I let you, hm? You like when I let you be nasty, don’t you?”

Your cheeks burn with arousal and embarrassment. “Yeah,” you whisper.

“And you do such a good job being a nasty little slut for me.”

You gasp at the name, thighs rubbing together instinctively for reasons you still haven’t begun to understand.

He smirks at your reaction. “See, sweet girl? You know how much I like you being nasty for me. And it makes your little pussy all wet, doesn’t it?”

Without waiting for an answer, he pushes his hand between your legs and parts them so he can rub between your folds. He groans at the slick already pooling there. 

“I know what you need, bunny. I know how you need to be shown all the ways your body can feel good, and I care about you so much that I’m gonna do just that.”

“Th-Thank you,” you stammer, eyes drifting closed at the feeling of his hand working you slowly.

“Thank you for what?” he fishes.

“Thank you for letting me be good for you and for being your... your nasty little slut.”

“Good girl,” he praises emphatically. “Now come for me.”

His fingers press hard against your nub and rub vigorously back and forth, and your orgasm barrels through your lower belly.

“It’s not gonna fit,” you worry. “It’s too big. It’s not gonna fit in me.”

He’d worked you open for the better part of half an hour, but you were still nervous.

“Sshh shh, I know, I know,” he soothes. “That’s why you have to learn to take it. You have to be such a good girl for me and learn how to take it.”

He braces himself above you, notching himself at your entrance, and breaches the opening. You moan and whine and claw at him to be closer to you. You hiss when he gets the head inside, and he pauses to let you adjust. Wet kisses all along your neck and collarbone. Whispers of praise and encouragement. You finally relax again, and he feeds a little more of his cock to you.

He makes it about halfway when you gasp and clench at the sting. He waits, ever patient and soothing. He’s waited this long to be your first. He can wait a few more moments while you attempt to accommodate the size of him. He watches your face contort as you struggle to take him in.

“Is-Is it in all the way yet?” you squeak.

“Just a few more inches,” he promises, not even trying to conceal his smirk.

You start to protest as to how that’s even possible, but he cuts you off with a deep kiss. The weight of him stretching and pushing against your walls burns and delights all the same, and you’re a whiny mess when he finally bottoms out. He fucks you slow, talking almost the whole way through. Never letting you get wrapped up in your own head. Never letting you forget that you’re his and he would never, ever let anything happen to you.

He stops when you ask him to. He starts again when you ask him to. He works your nipple between his teeth, your clit with his thumb, and sinks in and out of you in tandem. The feeling of coming on his cock is entirely different than his mouth or even his fingers. His name leaves your lips in a song of praise and reverence. You suck his thumb when he places it on your tongue, a comforting thing while he pistons into you a little harder, a little faster.

He’s invaded every part of you, every sense overwhelmed with him him him.

“You want me to make you all warm inside, bunny? Give her something to drink for her very first time?” he husks.

You nod, all dopey and fucked out, sucking his thumb harder and harder. You watch with half-lidded eyes as his mouth drops open, brows all furrowed, never losing tempo as his hips crash into you, finally stuttering as his release starts to flood your insides. He stays inside you even past when he’s gone soft. You don’t want to lose any part of him. Don’t want to be separated from him in any way.

He snuggles you close in bed, nuzzling your neck and ear. “My perfect little bunny. You did so well. Knew you’d do so well for me.”

“I always wanna be yours,” you say in a hush.

“You’ve been mine this whole time, bunny,” he chuckles. “Mine all mine.”

tagging people who previously expressed interest:

@guiltyasdave @pedropeach @tonysopranosrobe @bonezone44 @angiewatson

@for-a-longlongtime @drunk-and-capable @604to647 @beardedjoel @quinnnfabrgay-writes

@umnitsa @youmeand5bucks @toxicrecs @syd-djarin @mothandpidgeon

@indiegirlunited @sizzlingcloudmentality @ghotifishreads @bubble-pop-eclectic

[darylbae]

hiii, could you write something fluff with vamp daryl and a fem reader that really likes to stay in the sun? and even tho daryl cant stay for long in the sun he likes watching her enjoy herself for afar💕😭 sorry for the bad writting english is not my firt language

my girl and her garden — daryl dixon🩰

in which vamp!daryl just loves to watch you in the sun

note: i dont have a specific kind of vampire in mind when i write this, so none of my vamp!daryl stuff is really the same.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

It never took long for you to understand what Daryl was. You'd grown suspicious long before he'd admitted it to you, noticing he'd never eat around you and would always go out to find his own food. He'd find reasons to stay inside if he could, not that sunlight burned him alive, but too much of it was harmful. It terrified him when he finally told you, worrying he'd be go back to being alone again. He didn't want to, but he enjoyed your company, he enjoyed waking up and working around you, surviving with you. So now the pair of you were stuck together. Of course, you had a lot of questions. "Will you outlive me?" "Will you stay the same forever?" "Will you get sick of me and eat me?" And he answered them all however he could. Daryl loved how different you were to him. He found comfort in staying inside, keeping to himself, and that had all changed when he'd met you. You loved being outside. You loved the sun kissing your skin, you loved gardening and doing everything you could outside. The cabin the two of you shared was fenced in and kept safe, thanks to Daryl. And had a lovely open area of grass, you'd even built flowerbeds, to plant and watch over your food. Even as it had been raining a lot, you enjoyed at least being on your porch, watching your crops flourish in the rain, listening to the heavy thrum of the rain against the leaves and trees surrounding you. It had finally starting to shine again outside and you almost leaped out of bed to get some UV on your skin. Skipping coffee and breakfast, you'd put on a summer dress you'd kept over the years, and off you went. The sun was beaming down onto your skin, onto your plants, fruits, and vegetables. You couldn't be happier as you bent down to admire the growing strawberries. Daryl had only just rolled out of bed, feeling the vacant space beside him and worrying. Only to see the door to your cabin open, and could hear your sweet voice humming quietly in the distance. He'd poured himself a coffee, standing at the door frame and fishing into his pocket for a smoke. He could do this for hours, he could make a profession out of this. Watching you, studying you, the way you smile at every bit of progress your garden was making. If he were to eventually die, this is what his Heaven would be. You looked up, to see the moody shadow at the door frame and smiled sweetly at him, lifting a hand to wave. He'd returned the gesture, flapping his fingers at you and inhaling deeply on his cigarette. You'd leaped up from your squatting position, running excitedly up to Daryl to show him your work. "Dar! Look!" He stubbed his cigarette against the wall of the cabin, not wanting to blow smoke around you. "What is it, honey?" You lifted the strawberry, a large, deep red, juicy looking one, and held it up to his face. "I know it's not to your taste, but try it! Look how amazing it's grown!" You held it to his lips and he'd taken a bite, holding your gaze almost seductively. You wanted to drag him to bed and show him a good morning. But there were more exciting matters at hand, like your marvelous strawberry. "That's amazing. Well done, my girl." He cooed, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you into him. Your stomach tightened quickly at the praise, and you'd accepting the affection from him. Daryl always knew how to make you feel special. "Better get back out there!" You hurried back outside, after handing him the rest of the strawberry, and got back to work. Daryl stayed where he was, comfortably inside and had the perfect view of you. The sun lighting up your skin, making you glow as if an Angel had come and roamed the Earth. A small part of Daryl resented what he was, it limited what he could do, especially with you. If he could, he'd eat, sleep, bathe, and make love under the sun with you. He wanted to enjoy it as you did, but he was content with watching you for now.

[angelyuji]

yandere superman headcanons

tw kidnapping, "nice" guys/incel behavior (kinda), isolation as punishment, manipulation, yandere stuff... the usual

yandere clark kent x gn!reader

diana prince is next guys I LOVE WOMEN!!! lemme know abt any tags i miss or just any other superman thoughts (yandere or not) cuz i love superman a lot

hes so big and buff and strong

hhnhsdngnnhnhnngnfhgnnngngn

sorry

ive been obsessed with superman and lois recently and i thought to myself “i need him so bad id do unspeakable things”

ALSOOOOOO have u guys seen the new superman??? ohmygodddd HELLOOO SAILOR

anyway here we go :)

sweetest kindest angel alive… at first glance

actual clark is genuinely the best sweetest guy in the world and i don’t think that would technically change but if anything he’d start buying into the incel/nice guy pills and that’s what would warp him

he’s literally sooo sweet to you (i cant get over how much a of cutie pie clark kent is)

ok pause lemme start from the beginning

when he first met you, he was e n a m o u r e d like he thinks youre the most beautiful person in the world type stuff

at first, the relationship is normal, you guys are friends, study buddies, coworkers, yk normal shit

he’s still super in love but hes kinda aware that its one-sided and he can’t make you like him

you guys are super close friends tho

but as his crush progresses, he starts to consult more than his friends and normal relationship advice, he starts to consult incel chatrooms and subreddits

he wants to go further than friendship with you, but all the guys in these chatrooms are telling him awful things abt u. for example:

‘hi! requesting help for getting out of the friendzone with my friend’ i’ve been friends with them for a long time, but i see them as more than a friend. ive had to watch as they date all these awful people and i just want them to see me more than a friend. any advice is appreciated!

– dude these ungrateful bitches are never gonna see u

– people like them never see the good guy until its too late

– u just gotta make them like u, nobody understands the nice guy until u make them

– all of these responses are so weird, just be normal and flirt a little!

ur stupid fuckign idiot nice guys don’t get a chance till u make them give u chance

women are so fucking stupid

reading all these “helpful” comments really warped his mindset

he went from innocent farm boy to incel misogynist becuz

they have to be right! like why else have u not given him the time of day as more than a friend

so soon, ur gonna notice these changes

he went from being supportive bestie to making snide comments, putting you down, making moves on you that you clearly don’t want

ur hurt, heartbroken, your friend became something unrecognizable

u’ll ask for some distance, just to think abt if u want to continue the friendship and clark will realize that he can’t make you like him from just this

so you’re gonna go home, take a nap, and next thing you know you’re getting snatched from bed by freaking superman

he genuinely believes he’s done the right thing

he’ll bring u to the fortress first. he has everything set up already, so u wont freeze or starve to death

i wont bore with the details but he would NEVER lay a hand on u

that’s NOT my superman

its more like

“i need you to eat something.” clark begs you, his eyes filled with worry. he had crouched down next to where you sat. clark had given you free-reign around his fortress, but you chose to sit in the corner near the entrance.

“fuck you.” you turn away from him, anger dripping from your voice. you haven’t eaten since he brought you to his ice castle, but you can’t remember how long ago that was. you missed home, your friends, your family. you missed freedom. you hear clark sigh.

“you’re gonna get sick if you keep going like this, (y/n).” his hand touches your face and you slap his hand away. you know there was no way you could hurt superman, but he holds his hand looking hurt, and you feel a twinge of guilt. he holds out a bag from Big Belly Burgers and places it next to you.

you scooch back, your back hitting the wall, not willing to back down. “i’ll eat if you let me go.” you feel like a child throwing a tantrum, but you would do anything to go home.

you see him rub his forehead in frustration, “this isn’t working.” he mutters to himself. you don’t say anything, wanting to see what he would do. instead of trying to fight you again, clark picks up the bag. “i’ll come back when you’re ready.” he says.

“come back? what are you talking ab-” in one blast of air, clark was gone and you were alone.

days had gone by, you felt like you were going crazy from the solitude and the hunger. thankfully, clark had left mountains of water bottles for you, so you tried to fill up with those. it wasn’t enough, you had started to miss your kidnapper’s company after many conversations with yourself. all you could do was sleep or stare at the wall, blankly. after a week, you couldn’t take the isolation. “clark?” you call out, weakly. not a moment passes before he appeared before you.

his eyes were filled with pity and worry, “are you ready, sweetheart?” his hands cup your face and you lean into the warmth, nodding.

he could never hurt you. that entire week away was killing him, but the commenters were right. you just needed to know that he was all you needed.

[obzessed]

HP characters : powerpoint presentation headcanon

This is so random but here is how I imagine marauders' era characters doing a powerpoint presentation

The Marauders

Do over the top presentations, (down to using costumes, yes) would make the wildest powerpoint (too many colors because they can’t agree on anything)

They make it really fun and entertaining tho

use the airplane (flying broom ??) transition, except the airplane is on fire for some reason

indian drama level of presentation

Will Not stop giggling and interrupting each other

Jocks in middle school vibe, but they’re actually really smart

here to clown and have a laugh

generally get a high grade but get points deducted for clarity and taking too damn long

Severus Snape (+bonus Lily Evans)

In a solo presentation, Severus would make perfect, pristine presentation

King of bullet points

University standards powerpoints

only uses peer reviewed articles

always criticizes said peer reviewed articles

Never uses notes, but doesn't look the audience in the eyes ever

Doesn't look at the audience period

He's not shy, he doesn't even do it consciously

Extremely complicated subjects, Will Not Dumb It Down For You

If anyone has a question, will look at them as if they’re the biggest idiot in the room

The type to explain by simply reformulating what he just said

If they still don’t understand either sighs dramatically and moves on, or sighs dramatically and start drawing on the board, speaking veeeryyyyy slowly, you let me know where I lost you idiot fellow classmate

Actually explains really well when he puts in some effort, has this clean cut way of decomposing each problem and detailing each point, then tying it all back together that makes it really easy to follow

writing on the board and drawing legitimately helps him lay out his thought process

the condescension is just a plus

Type of presentation that is objectively very good and interesting and well thought out but like. no one cares. bring back the airplane transitions.

For a few people sufficiently advanced and interested and who actually understand what he’s talking about, (and who are not rebuked by his style and general attitude), it’s a v good presentation

Positive : Always adds something new and generally brings really pertinent arguments, genuinely passionate about what he’s talking about

Teachers pick up on his fast out of the box thinking and surprising creativity

his powerpoint design is a little depresso, no colors except to highlight important words

very minimalist and to the point

Regulus argues every point of his presentation

Academic rivals to lovers frfr

Gets point deducted for his attitude and his “lack of enthusiasm”

NOW Severus + Lily = best of both worlds, get an O everytime

Lily always insists on using canva (their pwp designs are so cute)

overall they balance each other really well

I feel like Lily would get a little giggly if she fumbles

The marauders would def shout “boring” and giggle like middleschoolers at the back of the class during Snape's presentation

Snape's ability to remain unfazed in the face of bs stems from there

God help them all if they get paired up for a presentation

Marauders + Severus

Snape would have to settle for at least one airplane transition

It would become a war of adding and deleting each other's progress on the pwp design

they split it in two but they try to gain terrain on the other's part like in Clash of Clan

They are at WAR

“I am a commander in battle and your slides are but a village on a map” James Potter

“Fuck you” Severus Snape

“Go jump off an airplane if you like them so much”

Somehow the presentation is even more chaotic than the previous one

passive aggressively asks the other to click on the next slide

always takes the other's question just as they're about to speak

If Snape sees a single one of them look at their notes for too long it's on sight (RIP Pettigrew)

Bc Fuck if he's gonna lose points over this

best or worst grade

lots of brain cells

Teacher tried to make the braincells hold hands but the brain cells are Enemies

[rei-ismyname]

Storm used to get naked a lot

Magneto definitely has the longevity (pun intended) when it comes to on-panel nudity or semi-nudity, but Storm had many moments early in her publication history. They're pretty racist, tbh, the implication being that an African person wouldn't have the same understanding of the social contract dictating 'don't be naked in public.'

This one isn't public but it's got a similar vibe of otherness. 'Imagine myself back in Kenya.' As an aside, my disability makes showering a lengthy trial. I'd love to be able to do this.

Jean is Living with Misty Knight and keeping her Marvel Girl identity secret, so she asks Ororo to change out of her X-Men uniform. There's a flash of lightning? Cool trick, but yeah she's butt nekkid and Jean is aghast/horny/who knows? Ororo is like 'We all good?' and Jean nearly chokes on her drink (sure ;) It's not really explained, but I feel like it's meant to be read as 'African woman doesn't understand nudity taboo.' An excellent what if? would be 'What if Storm's nudist/body positivity became an X-Men thing?' I think it'd be good for everyone who consents, though it'd make it a lot harder to run a school.

This one is forced as hell. Nightcrawler realises Storm is swimming naked in the pool, and tries to hurry everyone inside so nobody sees her. If I'm being generous he means well, but it's still a little uncomfortable. Not pictured - Kurt talking to Storm; Storm giving a fuck. Because he loudly told everyone to get inside, Storm does too (why wouldn't she?)

Nightcrawler - 'Too late.'

Colossus - 'By The White Wolf?!?'

Banshee - 'Oh dear.'

Wolverine - 'Nice tits, darlin.' (paraphrased, lol. The look on his face tho )

She doesn't understand what the hell these weirdos are on about, and complies with Piotr's suggestion that she wear his shirt 'if you insist.' (Boo, double standard. Free the nipple!)

Ororo still doesn't understand, so Xavier (who's been listening? Watching? telepathically takes what's barely subtext and makes it text.

'What may be customary in your land is not in this one.' Yikes. Ororo spent a lot of her youth in various parts of Africa, but her childhood proper was spent in New York AFAIK. She's a US citizen This is her land. I consulted a bunch of African friends who've been to Africa and have family there - Nudity is not common in their experience. Same rules as most places. It's a very stereotypical portrayal of backwards Africa - as if it's a homogenous country and not a massive continent.

He continues 'For the sake of group harmony, I suggest in future you use more... discretion.' I wonder what word he was going to use instead of discretion. Professor X is the undisputed patriarch here, so naturally the most patriarchal stuff comes from him (especially in the 60s/70s.) I'd actually love this to be revisited and have it be revealed that she just likes being naked and it has nothing to do with her being from Africa. Maybe with a lightning bolt upside his bald head. Aside from the scene where Xavier recruits her, I don't think there's any Ororo naked in Africa scenes - she understands the concept of clothes. Ugh.

She was just trying to swim, it was these bozos making a big deal of it. It's also just plain weird that this came up multiple times with multiple writers. Same editor, though I think. Expecting progressiveness from Liberal Marvel is folly, but this just feels like policing women's bodies, and a black woman repeatedly in the same way. 'Stop ogling and objectifying the poor woman,' would be much more appropriate.

[allicat0]

hi there! i absolutely loved ur other fan fic even tho i didn’t know the character. made my pussy throb. anywho 😊 just seeing if u are able to write a gojo x reader, perhaps him being older ( older brothers bsf, teacher, etc. ) i also would love to see some discreet public sexy time. ( classroom, movie theatre, pool… i love fucking hot tubs and pools…) thank you so much!😜✌️🎀

Our little secret

Ans: thank you so much for the support, and of course! I’m so excited to write my take on Gojo! Hope you like it!!

Summary: University au! You're working along side your thesis advisor Gojo in hopes to working closer to your ambitions for the future. But being a university student, costs are high and money is low. So to be able to keep up with your school you have a little gig on the side.

Content: MDNI, 18+, abaf reader, smut, forced proximity, dubcon, oral, penetrative sex, domination, degradation, praise, making out, rough sex, oral sex, penetrative sex, teacher/student relations, dominant Gojo, submissive reader

A/N: I apologize if not all of my historical information its 100% correct, I did do a little research for it to make as much sense as I could. I also apologize for any word vomited, grammar, or punctuation errors. I was up till 2am writing. but hope you enjoy!

You had been given the opportunity to have Satoru Gojo, head professor of the History department as your Thesis advisor. It was all still a little unreal to you, but you couldn't be more grateful. You have spent countless hours with one another, early mornings and late nights, doing your best to progress with your latest research proposal.  “The Villa of the Papyri” you said, placing your stack of papers down onto Gojos desk. “Now that surely is a pretty big project your-” He began to reply before you quickly cut him off “I understand it’s a lot, and that most of the contents inside got destroyed but there are over two thousand lost scrolls that reside inside that structure. There could be so many answers about the lost city of Herculaneum that those scrolls could contain!” Your look was genuine. . and so full of hope that he just couldn't say no. 

As weeks passed, you still had no leads. Weeks turned into, months, and months turned into a year, endlessly working alongside Gojo. Despite your research not flourishing as much as you had hoped, your relationship with your professor grew more than you expected. It didn’t feel like work, it was tolerable to be around eachother, it didn’t feel like he had some weird authority complex over you, you were comfortable, you couldn’t help but admit to yourself some feeling for your professor began to form and you wished nothing would come in between that. .until something did.

Being a university student, especially in the department you're in, funds are high and since you were usually busy researching all day, you had a hard time getting a stable job that worked around your harsh schedule. The school did pay you money to go through with this research but it was barely enough to buy you a loaf of bread and toilet paper. You needed money to survive and things were getting a little tight, so you thought working at your local club didn’t sound like a horrible idea. . as a dancer. 

Zafrio, is one of the more popular clubs in the area, but they worked well around your schedule, Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays every week. The pay was beautiful, every penny you made on that stage was yours to keep, on top of that you also got your bi-weekly pay which 10% of it went through tip - out to the servers, but you weren’t complaining. On average you made at least four hundred dollars a night, but on good days you would rack up closer to a thousand. 

Tonight was your Saturday shift, the busier one out of the three. As you were getting ready backstage a familiar face walked into the club, the club was packed full of people, he made his way through the crowd, brushing past people shoulder to shoulder, getting closer to the main stage. Now he didn’t come here often but when he did, it was every Saturday at eleven, to see you and only you perform. He used having a large crowd to his advantage as he was often hidden, so you seeing him was never a concern of his. How he found out about your little side job was not intentional, he just happened to stumble into the club with some of his friends one night, and there you were working. Gojo was beyond intrigued, so ever since that day he’d been coming to watch you perform, he didn’t know why he came back, but all he knew was that he started thinking of you in ways he’d never dare think of before. 

Your stage name gets called and there you are, walking out onto the stage over to the pole, beginning your number for the whole club. Cheers filled your ears, watching the money fall onto the stage, the serotonin that pumped through your body was unbelievable and he watched, every. Last. second. His eyes never leaving you or your body. The way your hips sway to the music, it was like he was in a trance. 

As you finish your number your eyes fall out to the crowd, adjusting from the bright stage lights shining up at you. You start to strut off and out the corner of your eye, you see. . no it couldn’t be. What was he doing here?? Your heart rate began to pick up. What was your professor doing here?! You quickly rushed the rest of the off stage. Did he just see you perform? Your mind was rushing at a million miles a second. 

You arrived backstage and looked in the mirror, your mind began to spiral and your heart picked up its pace, that was totally him, there was no denying it. “Is everything alright?” one of your fellow dancers came over to see if you were okay as they noticed you were panicking. “Yah.  .yah i'm fine” you said to put your clothes on and packed all your belongings. “Something came up and I really need to go, please let the boss know I’m sorry.” You knew all of the money you got from that dance would be taken care of by your boss, and were quick to leave, walking out to your car and heading home. 

Monday finally rolled around and you were on your way to Gojos' office to start work. If it were any other day you would be eager to get back to work after a weekend break, but today wasn’t any other day. The events of Saturday night still loomed in the back of your mind, you didn’t want to admit it but you were scared to face Gojo, how were you supposed to just act normal after that night?!

You opened the door to the office and plastered a smile onto your face and there he was sitting at his desk. “Good morning professor.” you said, making your way into the room, closing the door behind you. “Good morning, how was your weekend?” he asked, his eyebrow slightly arching with the question. You felt a lump form in your throat forcing it down before speaking. “Ah, it was quite relaxing,” you said trying to cut the conversation. “I'm surprised, you spend your weekends working do you not?” his head tilted ever so slightly, a smirk forming in the corner of his lips. He knew what he was doing and he knew you saw him that night. 

You froze in place for just a moment, “i'm not sure I know what you mean” Gojo looked at you right in your eyes, leaning forward so his elbows were resting on his knees. “I think you and I both know what I mean” your breath hitched, there was no going back, there was no avoiding this. You watched as Gojo sat up from his chair and made his way around his desk. Leaning against this chair and resting his ass against it he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Well. . am I wrong?” This was it, your career was over, there was no way you would be able to recover from something like this, you knew the risks and yet you still took the chance, now look where it got you. 

You could feel yourself trying to choke but in the coming years, you were trying your best to keep yourself together. “Now you know there's no reason to lie to me. .” Gojo pushed himself off the desk and made his way towards you, your eyes never leaving him. He walked behind you, leaving your sight, but you could feel him looming over you. “Professor look, moneys been low and.” his hot breath suddenly hit against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” His words were soft. 

Your shoulders tensed as he placed his hands on them “Is this okay? Can I touch you here?” Gojo let out softly once more, you simply nodded your head being speechless. His hands began travelling down stopping right at your hips. “You know. .I have a confession of my own. Ever since I found out about your secret endeavours. . I haven’t been able to stop going back. . I can’t stop thinking about you in ways I shouldn’t.” He choked out, Gojo was doing his absolute best to keep himself at bay. 

“Really?” you said, sounding surprised, his words were making your stomach flutter. As much as you wanted to deny this as wrong and unprofessional there was a recurring curious thought that wanted to find out more, what exactly was he thinking. “The thought drives me crazy” the hold he had on your hips gets tighter, but you move away from his grip, turning around to face him. His eyes were drawing you in like never before, you couldn’t describe it, but his gaze was full of pure lust. 

You bit down on your lips, you were unsure what to do, act professional or. . no what were you thinking! “Darling,” Gojo said, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hands coming up and cupping your face, his thumb trailing softly against your cheek. “Gojo I. .” You stood there speechless. “This is unprofessional.” You try to centre your thoughts “I think we’re long past that.” he said his hand never leaving your cheek. His face leaned down his lips inches from yours “if you want me to stop then tell me, I want you to be okay with this” you looked up at him through your lashes nodding your head ever so slightly. “Please. .don’t stop” you let out quietly just enough for him to hear you. 

Next thing you know you felt Gojo’s lips press against yours, lips moulding with one another. His kiss was delicate, but carried so much passion and lust behind every movement. Your mind continued to spiral at every given minute, but you didn’t want to stop, you wanted more. Gojo’s hands travelled down before taking your ass in his hands giving it a squeeze as he continued to kiss you. 

His tongue slipped past your lips and moved with yours, but it didn’t last long as he was quick to pull away to catch a breath. His head moved to your neck planting firm kisses against your neck as his hands made their way up your shirt, cupping your breast in the process massaging them as he continued to place his markings down your neck. “You’re fucking gorgeous” his voice was breathy, against your skin.

Gojo guided you over to his desk, turning you around to your back facing him. His hands lingered at the hem of your pants, thinking for a moment before he pulled both your pants and underwear down revealing your slick pussy. Gojo went down onto his knees to get a better view, his hand trailing up and down pushing in between your folds, slowly sticking his middle and ring finger deep into your pussy, causing a moan to escape your lips. “What if someone hears us?” you asked nervously. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of you slowly watching how your pussy swallowed his fingers “let them” he said. 

The speed of his fingers began to pick up the pace causing soft moans to escape through the seam of your lips. Gojo pulled his fingers out of you, spreading your legs open enough to lodge his head in between your thighs, dragging his tongue against your pussy. As you lay there leaning over his desk, gasping for breath, Gojo tasted every inch of you, savouring the sweetness of your flesh, he knew exactly where to touch, how to caress, driving you further into the realm of ecstasy. Your hips would involuntarily push back into him as he lapped his tongue over your clit, exploring every curve and crevice, bringing you to the edge of climax. It was almost painful, the anticipation and desire building within you, but you wouldn't trade this exquisite torture for anything else. 

As you were nearing release Gojo pulled away standing up, quickly unbuckling his pants to unveil his already hard twitching cock eager to pound into you. He held the base of his cock, dragging the tip in between your wet folds, before slowly pushing himself into you, causing a groan to escape from the back of his throat. His hands grabbing onto your hips, he began to slowly move his hips watching your pussy swallow his cock. “You feel so fucking good” he said as he began to pick up the pace. Your hand moved up to your mouth blocking out the moans leaving your lips, doing your very best to stay quiet enough so others wouldn’t hear your lewd sounds. Gojo’s thrusts became rough, his hand releasing your hip entangling his fingers through your hair tugging on it as he pounded into you. “You’re such a good girl, taking me so well”. 

As Gojo continued to thrust deep into you, you felt yourself coming closer to the edge once again, the knot building up in your stomach from him constantly hitting your G-spot. Your free hand moved down in between your legs and moved rapidly against your clit. “ you gonna cum on my cock baby?” He asked you, smirking down at you, how he enjoyed the sight. You let out a moan as your legs do their best to hold themselves up through your orgasm, Gojo was close, you could feel his cock pulsating inside of you. His thrust was becoming sloppy and out of rhythm. With a few more thrusts he quickly pulled out of you, his hot cum hitting against your back “fuck” he said out of breath looking down at the mess he made, but god it was fucking hot.

His body pressed up against your own, planting a soft kiss against your shoulder. Moving the hair away from your neck and planting them slowly against your neck as well, he let out a light groan, the vibration of his hot breath against your skin made you shiver. “Let's get you cleaned up baby” Gojo said, going back to his cocky smug voice once again. “Oh and. .lets keep this our little secret alright?”

@allicat0 signing off. .

[thatone-brightstar]

Paint stained kisses -Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader-

a/n: Everyone say thank you to the sweet @beebslebobs for the idea on this oneshot that was originally just an insta post from my TB & TF universe!

Here's a little sweetness to alleviate the chest pains that chapter 10 may have caused on some of you. It's part of the same story, but it can totally be read separately if you'd like

BUT if you haven't read it and you wanna… here’s the link to that:

The Bear & The Fox -Carmy Berzatto x Fem! Reader-

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: Your and Carmy's day off.

WARNINGS: Smut ahead, oral sex (female receiving), p in v, dirty talk if you squint, reader is on birth control but isn't mentioned (wrap it up IRL tho), minors DNI but you'll do what you want so don't say I didn't warn you.

“That was the worst french toast I’ve had, like, ever…” You groan, kicking your soaked sneakers to the side as soon as Carmy throws the door open.

“My eggs Benedict were pretty good.” He answers from behind. 

You roll your eyes with your back to him and scoff. “Obviously, sis wouldn’t dare serve you something awful.” You turn to your boyfriend, a mocking smile curled on your lips. “‘Anything else I can get you, chef? I can also offer you something that isn’t on the menu…’ wink, wink.” 

The exaggerated kissing noises you make towards him pull a chuckle from his chest as he combs his fingers through the wet strands of hair. You roll your eyes again and pad to his speaker, soon filling the room with the soft notes of an instrumental song. The warmth of his hands brush over the sides of your waist and rest delicately over your navel as his chest presses to your back, causing the moisture of his sweater to transfer onto yours.

“So, what I understand is you’re jealous someone was hitting on me?” Carmen whispers between soft kisses on the valley of your shoulder.

“No, I’m jealous your food was better than mine-” You answer, swatting his hands away and earning another soft laugh that fills your ears with joy as you walk into his room.

You’ve grown used to the lovely sound, more common the longer you spent by his side, as if the walls he held up were slowly chipping away with your constant presence. You softly hum to the music from his stereo while you rummage through the drawer that holds a few shirts you’ve hauled to his place in the past couple weeks. 

He had emptied it out after finding your things bunched up and wrinkled inside your backpack by the sofa. You found it completely adorable when, in search of a shirt of his to sleep in, instead you found your own clothes - neatly folded in perfect squares- occupying the first drawer in his closet. He didn’t mention it and neither did you. Knowing Carmy and his silent acts of love, mentioning it would only shy him back into his shell and the progress you had made over the months of going out was something you weren’t willing to lose.

You pull out a blue washed out ‘The Original Beef of Chicagoland’ shirt that still smells like his body wash and pull it over your chest, then a pair of shorts and some socks to pad around his cold floor while taking out your supplies from the waisted tote bag inside your backpack. You only have a month or two until the showing and even though it might seem like enough time, to you it wasn’t. Every time you tried to concentrate on an idea for your set, your mind would go blank, thoughtless and frustratingly empty. You could blame it on the prospect of a deadline, maybe painter’s block, but you knew it was more than that.

You’ve used painting as an outlet all your life. Most of your favorite works came from a place of hurt, anger and most times sadness. But now they had all been shoved into a corner and replaced by a sense of calm and overall happiness and while you’re glad most of the dark thoughts have left, now it was harder to conjure up any idea that seemed good enough to be presented in front of hundreds of people.

You rub your face in frustration and pull your hair out of your eyes into a bun, then drop criss-crossed by the window of Carmy’s room, acrylics, brushes and sketchbooks flooding the floor. The gentle lull of the chords mix with the shuffling from the kitchen and a smile forms on your face as the source of your lack of inspiration walks into the room, shirtless and cradling a bowl of diced fruit in his hand.

“Here.” Carmy mumbles softly, passing the bowl to you and leaning down to place a gentle kiss over your hair.

You take it, mumbling a quiet ‘Thanks’ through your smile and pop a piece of the tangy peach in your mouth before setting it on his nightstand.

“How’s the brainstorming coming along?” He takes a seat in front of you, back leaning against his bed and lighting a cigarette.

Without answering, you stretch your arm to him, sketchbook in hand and stare mesmerized as he flips through the pages, lit tube dangling from rosy lips. You keep taking bites off the savory fruit to avoid biting your lip instead because the view in front of you is just that fucking good. Baby blues flicker towards you without bothering to lift his head and the way your legs twitch trying to close has a smirk forming over the cig.

“What?” You say defensively.

“Nothin’.” He accentuates with a raise of his brows. “What’s wrong with these?” He asks, giving you the book back turned to a page harboring a few sketches of the sea, shore and shells.

“They’re not good enough…” You admit, tracing your finger over the print his thumb left when it smudged the charcoal. “They don’t make me feel anything- art’s supposed to make you feel something. How can I call myself an artist if it doesn’t stir anything in me!?”

“Hey-” He puts out the smoke on the ashtray over his night stand and scoots to you, making a space for you between his arms. The heat of his naked chest and compression of his arms do wonders to dull out the rising pounding inside. “You’re overthinking it. Maybe take some time off… what do you do when you’re frustrated?”

“...paint.”

Carmy gives you a small snort, genuine and lighthearted, that blows a few wild strands of hair and has you looking up to his glowing face with a tiny grin. You suck the corner of your lip in concentration, the angle in which he has you cradled can only be described as holy. Strong jaw and nose angle perfectly into your line of vision and you have to refrain yourself from kissing the soft tip of it multiple times.

“How ‘bout you make one of those abstract paintings? Let the brush guide you- or whatever-”

“I could paint you…” The words escape your lips the second they materialize in your head.

He pulls his head back slightly, brows drawn up in confusion. “What, like one of your french girls?” 

“No!” You manage to answer through a fit of giggles that you’d be ashamed to let out if you hadn’t gotten so comfortable with him already. “Paint on you, as in over you.”

You strain your neck up to catch his lips in yours, the stubble that covers his chin scratching over your tender skin. He smiles into the kiss, very well feeling your intentions of trying to distract him with what you know he likes the most: you.

“It’ll help…” Sultry breath fans his lips and clouds his thoughts with the taste of peaches, fresh and sweet. “Yeah?”

Carmy can only nod, still hooked on the taste of your lips and the stretch of your smile when you get your way. He groans when you pull away, goosebumps rising over the exposed flesh of his chest as you move to take his pillow and sheet from the bed and place it over the ground, beside his legs. He sighs, but obliges anyway, unhooking his stiff thighs and laying belly flat over the hard ground.

“Can’t we do this on the bed?” He speaks over the soft material of the silk pillow sheets you had bought solely for him.

“I don’t wanna get paint on the bed.” You shrug. “Don’t move, it’s gonna tickle a bit…”

The first stroke of the brush gives him chills as the cold paint glides over uncharted territory. He finds it strange, but not uncomfortable and once he gets used to it, it even feels calming. Your soft hums to the tune of the music, the rain pattering outside and the rhythmic strokes have him slowly lulling away into an almost relaxed state, at least what he considered relaxation. 

You smile gently down at his long and slow breaths, tracing with your brush over the small beauty marks that map his pearly skin like constellations on an explorer’s map. While one hand holds the brush, you use the pads of your fingers to press down gently over the strained muscles that don’t seem all that relaxed, pulling a groan or two every so often and enjoying all the little sounds he makes.

You spend the time just admiring him. The way his shoulder blades flex when he wraps his arms under the pillow, to the two very pretty dimples that peek just above the waistband of his sweatpants. 

“You’re not doin’ much painting…” He mumbles, voice thick and groggy from sleep, while your nails rake rhythmically along his ribs.

“I got distracted…” You bite your lip and pull your phone from under the brushes to snap a picture of your wonderful view, then you lean down and place a sultry kiss where his shoulder blades meet.

“Fox…” He warns through your kisses, the pet name sounding at home between rosy soft lips.

“Bear…” You tease back with a smile, you knowing how much he liked you calling  him that.

In a second, you sink down your teeth over the plush skin and he visibly shudders under you. You barely hear him mumble something to himself, before he’s turning to his side and using one strong arm to pull you down to him. Your vision spins and a squeal comes out, only to be shoved back into your throat with the force of his kiss. You’re caged between his arms, torso pressing you to the ground and mouth roaming wet and mercilessly over your own. 

The few seconds of air you fill your lungs with when he separates to pull the thin shirt over your head can only do so much to alleviate the burning in your core caused by his strong stare. You raise to your forearms and his lips latch immediately to your exposed collarbone, starving and pleased with every whimper he pulls from you. 

“You wanna play chef, let’s play-“ He teases and without wasting time, pushes himself off you into a seating position, thighs spread out just enough for you to sit over them after pulling you to him again.

His enthusiasm is evident in the growing bulge that begins to rub on the inside of your thighs and with the help of your toes on the floor, you rock your hips forward enough to feel his fingers twitch over your waist, digging deeper into the flesh. A soft and shaky moan caresses your lips, motivating your movements as your fingers scrape up his neck and get lost in the messy strands. 

His smile stretches over your joined lips. “Anything for you… chef.”

You can feel his Adam’s apple bob with a chuckle as you kiss down his neck, sucking and nibbling hard just under a thin tan line where you assumed his shirt would cover it up, hopefully. His hips jerk upwards with strength, ripping a gasp from your chest, then another squeal when he wraps a secure arm around your waist and hoists you up and off the floor. Your knees squeeze over his hips and your arms wrap around his shoulders in surprise only for a moment, before feeling the soft sheets and the mattress underneath.

Carmy’s lips brush down the exposed skin of your chest, his wet tongue lapping over the hardened nipple of each breast has your knees separating and making room to fit his hips perfectly. He lets go of your tender skin too soon, peppering saliva stained kisses down the middle of your abdomen. As his knees fall to the ground, dexterous fingers pull at the hem of your shorts in a torturously slow fashion, making you lift your upper body on your elbows and direct an impatient glare. Your hair has fallen off its bun somewhere between the floor and the bed, glowing like a dark halo with the few rays of sunshine filtering through the open window and it’s gripping at Carmy’s chest.

“Baby, please…” You moan eager and annoyed, trying to shimmy your hips to quicken the process.

The cold air hits the bare flesh of your cunt and ignites goosebumps that Carmy kisses away as he finishes sliding the fabric over your feet.

“Fuck, so wet already. Just for me, huh?” He mumbles to himself, breath blowing over the exposed skin and causing a jolt of need to travel deep inside.

You swallow down the thick pool of saliva that drowns your mouth at the sight of his beautiful face between your legs. “Bear, please I need you to-” The phrase is cut short by your gasp.

Long digits rub tauntingly over your slit, coating in the arousal caused only by him. He’s too eager to continue teasing you, too entranced with the way your pussy glistens with the bare idea of him that all he can do is look up at you through his brows and lap at the wetness with a firm tongue. With just the first taste of you, he’s hooked, like a starving man afraid they’ll take away his only source of life. 

Your groan throws your head back with force and makes your eyes lose focus. Strong hands grip at your hips, rooting you to the mattress while your feet fall over his shoulders. Your hands try to find anything to hold on to- hair, sheets, pillow and even your own thighs- but the constant assault of his skillful mouth makes your fingers lose their grip on anything in your reach.

“Fuck baby-you’re doing so, so good-” Your praise makes his cock twitch inside his pants and he uses one of his hands to frantically pull the waistband down, stroking himself with a similar speed to his mouth.

Whimpers cascade from your lips and pool over your chest with every slurp and lick that echoes in the small room. You force your blurry eyes to focus down, only to be met by piercing black and a thin ring of deep blue staring up at you. His hand spreads over the sweet spot where your thigh meets your hip bone, digits concave the flesh in a way that reminds you of the ancient marble sculptures. There’s a predatory air about the way his jaw tenses in concentration while eating you out, hard muscle digging deep into you and curving your back off the sheets. 

Your nails dig into his scalp with every stroke of his tongue and the scorching sensation crawling over your thighs only grows with the bump of his nose over your swollen clit. A hard yelp scratches its way out through your exhausted lungs, motivating him to speed up his movements and add a finger into your dripping cunt. His groans and moans vibrate into your overstimulated area, causing the orgasm to hit you out of nowhere.

A chorus of ‘fuck’s that vary in volume ring inside Carmy’s ears -along with the pulsing walls compressing his finger and tongue- but he refuses to budge. Instead he continues to rub your clit with the bridge of his nose until your breaths have settled long enough for moans to turn into words and not the unintelligible mumbling that makes his chest swell with pride. He pulls his own hand from around his cock afraid he’ll burst before his favorite part, distracting himself by placing gentle kisses over your spasming thighs and rubbing along the lengths of them as he crawls over you.

There’s a blissful smile over your face that only grows with the sweet pecks of his lips making their way up your skin. You open your eyes when the mattress dips under his weight beside you and you prop your head up on your elbow, mimicking his stance. Your eyes are glossy with post-orgasm bliss as your hand lifts to his face and your middle finger traces over the prominent line of the nose you love so much. His skin is smooth with your slick and you can’t help but pull your finger back and pop the tip into your mouth, never losing his stare. 

His neck loses grip of his head, messy curls falling in frustration because, how is it that the smallest thing you do can rile him up so fucking quickly? A death between your legs, he thought, would be the happiest demise.

With the thought present in mind, he circles your waist tightly and drags your body over his into a seating position. You throw your leg over his parted ones in sweet anticipation, knees hovering over the sheets while your arms fall on his shoulders and you pull him up to your mouth. The taste of peaches and tobacco mixing with your arousal have you panting and grinding your folds over the firm head of his cock.

“You want me to fuck you?” He whispers in between kisses, using all his strength to not slam into you already. He just loved to hear you say it, have your pretty lips pout around the word that had been used to taunt him for so long, needy for you to give it another meaning. "I gotta hear it, baby, c'mon-"

“Fuck yes, chef- please fuck me-” Your thighs quiver with want, mouth completely disconnected from your brain as the words tumble down. “Please, chef? Pretty, pretty please?” 

His eyes grow soft and his dick hard at the way you whine your words, hips rocking along his length leaving him delirious and pussy-drunk before he’s even inside you. Carmy plants a firm hand at the base of your spine, using it to guide you down his stiff cock until the last bit of air is pushed out your lungs.

“Fuck-” You groan, throwing your head back then letting it fall over his shoulder as he lifts you up and lets you drop over and over again.

Your hands dig at his back, clawing over undried paint you’ve forgotten is there and smearing careless streaks of blue and pink over his chest. The beautiful sound of smacking skin and his breathy moans growing louder around you go straight to your core, igniting the tingling sensation that runs up and down your thighs once again.

His eyes can’t seem to look away from your face, too bewitched by the way your lips hang parted and the fine layer of sweat covering your skin. While his hand rounds your body and runs circles over your nub, his teeth latch onto the breasts bouncing in his line of vision, pretty bruises flourish and decorate the skin with his own personal mark.

“Bear- baby- fuck-” Fragments of a sentence is all you’re able to utter, pushed out and punctuated by the snap of his hips increasing in speed.

You feel every one of his thrusts too deeply inside you from that angle, along with the constant nibbling over your tender breast and you think you might just go mad from the overstimulation. You roll your hips along with his when the tension in your navel begins to grow. One hand circles his neck and buries inside sweaty locks while the other tries to grip onto the wall for any sense of stability. Your legs tremble, the tension builds and without warning, your grip on his cock pulls the air from his lungs as he feels you spasm around him and come with a gutural gasp.

Carmy digs into the skin of your hips lifting you up for a few more thrusts before the tightness of your walls grows too much. His neck flushes red with the force of his release, the groan vibrating next to your ear makes the thin hairs on your body rise with chills.

The drained energy finally catches up to you both and Carmy lets gravity pull him down to the comfort of the soft bed, holding you tight in his arms and pulling you down with him. You’re too blissed out to warn him about the paint still fresh, now pressing over the white sheets disparaging the bed.

It’s only when he turns to carefully place you beside him- arms secure around you- that you open your eyes and notice the array of smeared paint covering both your chests and around his neck. The laughs rippling from your chest are too contagious for Carmy to stay quiet, joining on once he gets a view of himself and the lilac prints around your face that match with the size of his thumbs.

“See?” He whispers once you’ve both run out of laughter, sapphire eyes dancing around your glowing face and hand traveling up to caress your cheek. “I was right about the abstract painting…”

"Yeah..." You grin back. "And so much for not wanting to get paint on the bed..."

**********

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry and that’s it lmao

[yuikomorii]

Is it me or does Laito think Ayato and Yui are similar? I don’t mean it only in Ayato’s routes but in Laito’s ones it can be seen how he starts feeling disgusting when these two try to show that they care about him and so on. Sorry if I didn’t express myself correctly, I hope you got my point tho.

// That's right, given that Laito secretly envies purity, and both Ayato and Yui are the embodiment of it in his eyes, which triggers him.

Laito is a very complicated person… he has a hard time believing in genuine kindness, therefore he may find it repulsive.

There's a moment in Laito's LE route where Yui mentions that kindness was the reason of Ayato’s actions, but Laito was so close to genuinely vomit when he heard that.

Laito admits in the VERSUS CD that he envies how upright and pure Ayato is (first pic). While it’s true that he shouldn’t have overlooked Ayato’s trauma for centuries, I somewhat get why he had such a resentment against him. Of course, Ayato was not at fault for being that way, but I really doubt it's simple to accept that your brother is actually the person YOU wished to be.

Purity is seen as a perfect virtue, Ayato is even described by Rejet (second pic) as someone whose true face is represented by his pure heart. On the other hand, Laito is the polar opposite. He’s anything but pure and he hates that. He is aware that due to Cordelia corrupting his mindset, such a trait is unattainable.

As for Yui, even if all those bad things didn’t happen in the same timeline, it must still hurt suddenly being sent by your own father to a mansion full of vampires, who need to feed off you to survive. Yui's continued positivity and ability to see the good in everyone (even when not romancing them) in spite of these circumstances speaks volumes about how pure her heart is too.

In LE, Laito acknowledged that he projected his frustrations on both Ayato and Yui. Nevertheless, a part of him knew that the two of them would forgive him anyway because, well… that’s how Ayato and Yui are. They’re famous for forgiving and empathizing with those who have hurt them and nobody can change that.

I also really like the parallel they pulled in these scenes. It’s just so precious how both Ayato and Yui would accept Laito no matter what and that truly highlights their purity of heart.

Translations belong to: dialovers-translations on Tumblr

Laito's personal growth and realization that he matters and is not alone was one of the very few positive things of LE. I’m glad they decided to write about this aspect of Laito and Ayato’s relationship, as well as trying to make Yui understand Laito more and vice versa.

Unfortunately, they had to give him that questionable good ending, which essentially erased all the progress, BUT leaving that aside, the characters who are the most aware of each other’s true side are without a doubt Ayato and Laito.

[drdemonprince]

hi, devon. i’m a very socially anxious white autistic person who has been quite active in protests and some related events and actions the last couple of months. i really agree with your opinions on how white supremacy can shift our focus away from community, but i find it nearly impossible to actively parttake in community. i show up with a mindset of actively contributing but feel paralyzed when faced with the chance. i don’t really know how to make social connections in general, but i so badly want to contribute to community. i think white guilt kinda plays into things as well and that makes me so ashamed and then i spiral. ik it’s a lot but do you have advice on navigating a deep urge and feeling of responsibility (as it pretty much is my responsibility as someone who wants to fight for liberation) but feeling paralyzed whenever a chance to connect actually presents itself? i always end up fumbling and unintentionally rejecting people who try to connect w me as well. i used to be very politically active as a teen but that was through organisations with a lot of structure which enabled me to feel more able. i do whatever actions i can, but being hindered by my inability to form connections makes me worried i won’t be able to end up in the communities that fight for liberation in the long haul. i’m ready to this this for the rest of my life, but not alone.

I understand this feeling so much. Please keep at it. One of the biggest problems with the white supremacy brain disease is that it expects us to do more & more quickly than is reasonable or helpful to expect of a person. So it is very likely you are beating yourself up for not speaking up, for not jumping in to offer help, and for not asserting yourself to the degree that you think that you "should," but in reality many of those efforts would be misplaced or self-defeating if you were to embark on them right now. This is a long journey, and white supremacy culture believes in urgency above all things too, and so it's important for you to give yourself some grace as well as to accept that progress for you will be a long haul, and that's okay.

Many people have told me that becoming even a neutral member of a community as a white person is an uphill battle. So many of our impulses and the social tools that we wield actively destroy community. to learn to become a good community member, we have to listen and learn a lot, and keep showing up, and risk looking foolish, inert, useless, or whatever else we worst fear. If you're not doing much right now but still showing up, you might be a neutral member! That's a good start actually. Keep going.

Also try to keep an open heart and an open mind when people of color or longstanding members of the space challenge you, correct you, playfully tease you, or try to include you, even if it feels embarassing or like an attack -- it isn't an attack, but white supremacy brain will have you thinking that it is. If you read my essay Moments of Protest, I describe a moment like this at the Powwow I recently visited. Indigenous men singled me out, brought me into the dances, included me, taught me the moves, and gave me an award even tho I was doing a miserably bad job -- I was MORTIFIED and the white fragile person inside me wanted to run away and apologize for being so inept and never come there again. Instead, I pushed past my stupid ego and kept dancing and felt incredible gratitude in my heart. This kinda thing happens in a lot of POC-led activist spaces too. People will ask you your opinion, tell you how to contribute, correct you, include you, and it will humble you, and it will be scary at first, but do your best to just stick with it and stay present doing the thing, even if you feel red-faced and guilty. Slowly you will get more used to it and you don't reflexively withdraw or push people away. It took me no joke YEARS to get to this point. I used to flee instinctively or even be mad at people for bursting my self protective bubble. You can work through it.

A lot of my usual distress tolerance building advice also applies here (see my substack for more). But I think that if you are already showing up to actions a lot and are self-aware about it, you are on the right track. You just need to keep going. Attend organizing meetings, not just protests themselves if you can. Contribute your opinion when it is warranted. Don't beat yourself up for being silent sometimes and don't beat yourself up for disagreeing with people or having questions and your opinions. Accept conflict as a healthy form of intimacy and dont run away when a moment gets awkward. Just keep learning and retraining yourself and noticing the love that people show -- by offering food, by making jokes, by acknowledging your presence to make you feel welcome, by allowing you to be there and helping you to be a better version of yourself. we all have a long way to go in this work, but you can do it. you're already doing it! you got this.

[dilftesbiggestfan]

more dante pookie hcs plz its rare to see dante stans

on it bro I’m giving u mys and diaries hcs cuz why not we gotta be more annoying like laurence stans

Mystreet:

he gets Gene gifts every Father’s Day since from his perspective he was the one who raised him alongside his mom and was the only father figure he had :,)

Has like 12 guitars (this isn’t over-exaggerating)

started dyeing his hair blue after freshman year of HS, his natural hair color is black

he was a late bloomer so he looked more feminine while the others looked masculine and were developing quickly, Nana thought he was adorable which is why she dated him also at some point Zenix thought he was a girl 💀 after 16 he started developing quickly and becoming more masculine till he finished puberty at 20

grew up in Nashville before moving to the city pdh is located in then he went to college in Spain then he moved to wherever Mystreet is (still haven’t decided but its the USA).

has a masters degree in engineering, and has a great paying job which makes it easier for him to travel a lot, he always takes Gene and his friends/family with him though, he hatessss travelling alone

ages gracefully currently he’s 34 in my rewrite and he still looks 24 same goes to gene (but Mystreet seasons 1 - 3 takes place in their early 20’s and mid 20’s; which is the past I know it’s confusing but so is my head so yeah. If ur wondering seasons 4 - 6 don’t exist and never will be canon to me :))

pretty masculine but still uses makeup and “women’s” perfume / skin care doesn’t care tho

cooks really well but he’s not the best because Laurence is and no one else can compete

when he was dating nana he learned Japanese for her and can speak around 80% of it, basically he can hold up a long conversation he can also speak other languages:

English (obviously, American accent)

French 65% Spanish (Mexican dialect cuz he’s Mexican)

(Spain dialect, he learned the European dialect first then worked his way up to Mexican dialect, he can switch between dialects easily)

he can also understand some Portuguese :)

very picky with fast food, he prefers healthy food but he does like pizza

really calm and chill (unlike his canon version) opposite to Travis who’s extremely chaotic and messy

long hair and refuses to cut it

Eventually he does dye his hair back to black in his 30s after feeling like he damaged it (thankfully he didn’t and won’t be balding like dilfte 😇)

Favourite band is Metallica

nerd when it comes to astrophysics and astronomy

only ex he’s in good terms with is nana who he dated for a while in HS before they decided to mutually split up (no he never dated Nicole I hate that ship)

MCD:

Loves wolves and tames them he treats them like puppies even though they can rip apart peoples flesh :3

is 7’2… …. ..

insanely beefed up because bro ran a village all by himself for 15 years and trained hard everyday also he canonically beat both laurence and garroth in a fight after the timeskip he’s a beast

ambidextrous and can use both arms efficiently when it comes to combat and fighting

Dilfte rarely shows his face like how Garroth used to wear his helmet back in s1? it’s like that

Extremely gentle and cautious with his wife and kids because of his size

has 7 kids including Dmitri and naoki (so 5 other kids) yeah he been busy

in s2 he’s in his early/mid 30s but in s3 of MCD and afterwards he’s in his early/mid 40s

Still madly in love with his wife and still in that honeymoon stage

Unlike Nicole he let Dmitri pick who he wanted to live with and Dmitri chose Dilfte and Nana

Wraps injured people up in his cape and carries them in it

physically very strong slightly above garroth (if we’re counting physical strength and not magic)

as intimidating as he looks he’s super sweet and wouldn’t hurt a fly

likes to go on picnics with his kids and wife

Extremely supportive of his kids and very progressive (keep in mind this is the medieval ages so it was rare)

finds lizards intimidating

bisexual but he doesn’t know what it means all he knows is women and men are both hot

Moved on “quickly” from Nicole because they already were unhappy and distant before breaking up, for months he thought they’d break up the next day so he spent that time wallowing and grieving their relationship until she broke the news to him and left him alone, then he moved on with Nana 2 months later. Which isn’t even quick if we’re being historically accurate.

limits drinking and refuses drinking around any kids, not that he’d go crazy and hurt anyone but still he’s extremely cautious.

Dilfte is probably the only dad who wants his kids to surpass him in the series 💀 he’s very proud of them no matter what though

long hair he puts it up usually (balding and short haired dilfte/dante ur dead to me.)

beard

Still tried to talk to Gene using the amulet even after the incident, Gene would always listen but never respond.

thanks for fuelling the hyperfixation

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

Tolkien Thoughts, 14 Year Old Niece Edition:

So, no one in my immediate family has any particular interest in Tolkien BUT I’ve been making some progress with a 14 year old niece who liked the movies and agreed to give the books a try. She’s here this week for the holiday and so I’ve got an honest to goodness family member in the house who can and will talk LOTR!

I absolutely love to hear her takes on things, both those where we agree and where we differ. So far, she has expressed the following opinions:

1. Book Aragorn “needs to take it down a notch on the whole heir of Elendil thing.” She vastly prefers Movie Aragorn, whose humility she respects.

2. Legolas was her favorite in the movies, and he’s doubly so now because “he had a lot more to say” in the books. She particularly seemed to enjoy Shit Talking Legolas who constantly reminds his friends how young they are and repeatedly rubbed it in everyone’s faces that he wasn’t afraid when they were all having a dark night of the soul at the Paths of the Dead. (She did not pick up Gigolas vibes on her own but enthusiastically endorses the concept now that she knows about it.)

3. She had absolutely no use for Tom Bombadil but, after hearing about Gigolas, she is now considering whether Gandalf and Tom might not be a good pair.

4. She read Sam and Frodo as a romantic relationship without any prompting from me or anyone else and was shocked to find out that not everyone reads it that way. She believes anyone her age would read them as queer by default.

5. She was bothered by the repeated idea that some men have better/higher blood than others, which really offends her as a concept. That kind of soured her on Gondor in particular (though she makes an exception for Faramir) since they’re the ones that are held up as the people with the best or noblest blood.

6. Tho she strongly disliked the setting of different categories of men in hierarchy against each other, she’s fully on board that the elves are better than everyone else. She also cannot understand why anyone is attracted to the dirty, sweaty humans when there are beautiful elves RIGHT THERE. (Obviously this is a point where my influence has fallen woefully short, as I can’t get enough of a dirty, sweaty human. I tried to convince her that she is missing out on some truly amazing dirty sweatiness:

But she can’t help it, she’s got Samwise Gamgee levels of elf worship.) She was interested to hear that Tolkien’s got another book that revolves much more around the elves and their doings, but she’s not sure she wants to read it if there are “elves behaving badly” in it because she wants to keep thinking of them as noble and enlightened and sad. I didn’t tell her about Fëanor as a result. Maybe when she’s 15…

So anyway, we’re doing great over here. She’ll be in town for 5 more days and I hope to get as much more out of her as she’ll tolerate in that time!

[asukaskerian]

monthly word count - may

TOTAL: 3 026... :((((((((( this month has been BAD for my concentration. upside, i plotted out several things like cherry wine and also wasted idk how long making family trees for uchiha and senju. totally essential, glad you all agree. u_u;;;;

ok i also tried to come up with a quick svsss arranged marriage bingqiu and got so into "no but i need more setup for it, it makes no sense like this" and now it seems to be SQH crack with qijiu instead because *shen yuan hasn't been born yet* what the frick self.

POSTED : nothin.

IN PROGRESS -svsss cracky plot divergence (1 545 words) -bleach suburban ot4 (1 481 words)

-- svsss -- The truth wasn't that Airplane had hatched a master plan to sneak out from under his System's unforgiving yoke.

The truth was that he'd been buried in emergency inventory lists to his eyebrows for the last two weeks, and just that day had to deal with eight different customers who couldn't understand why heightened demon-human hostilities would mean their ancient viagra tea would be harder to procure, all because his shifu thought he could do with more asshole-handling practice. The last thing he needed was Shen newly-Qingqiu getting in his face about the wrong wood being used in his tranquility-promoting benches.

Who the fuck caaaaaaares bro shut the FUCK up we all know it's because the wood grain's not the right swirliness for your "artistic vision"!

So he lost his temper.

In true Shang Qinghua fashion he lost it in the privacy of his own mind and nowhere else. "Ah, shixiong, you understand, we're too understaffed to send a team! It would be months before an expedition could be justified."

"Why is that."

Airplane had created Shen Jiu to be a bitch, but sometimes he was still surprised at the depths of bitchiness he managed to plunder with a single eyebrow.

"Because I try not to feed more than five shidis a week to Colossal Orchid-Faced Ants when I can help it?"

The way Shen Quingqiu paused and gave him a considering look had Shang Qinghua freeze solid for a second. Fuck fuck shit abort--

"Shang-shidi's tongue seems in fine form today," Shen Qingqiu commented in a silky way that Airplane translated into 'ooh, a challenger to my bitchy crown'. "One would almost think he didn't find his mistake anything to complain about."

... Jjghbgffhhh.

-- bleach --

Karate chop: umm. Hi! I hope i'm not bothering you, Grimmjow-san? Karate chop: we found new kittens! Kazui insisted we show you. :) Karate chop sent a picture Karate chop: they're hanging out behind my father in law's house, haha Karate chop: wonder where they were born? Surely not too far from here. Karate chop: ohh, there's one more kitten! She must be shy, it's the first time i see her! Karate chop sent a picture Karate chop sent a picture Karate chop: i'll stop spamming you now. Have a good afternoon, Grimmjow-san! Me: no new cats Me: rat royale battle tho if youre into that You sent a picture Karate chop: ahahahah oh nooooo, their little fists! Karate chop: :D :D :'D You sent a picture Me: lil flower in between two bricks Karate chop: oh! That's a carnation! How did she get there? How pretty. Karate chop: Kazui found you a buttercup!  Karate chop sent a picture Me: heh Karate chop: ~^_^~ Me: hey kurosaki Karate chop: yes?  Me: the fuck happened to your house Karate chop: oh Karate chop: haha Karate chop: Nel-chan didn't tell you? :) Me: She did Me: The little you told her anyway Me: s'about the other day? Karate chop: aheh... yeah. Karate chop: ( ; ω ; ) Me: im bothering to tell you im sighing irl is how much im sighing abt this. wtf nerd glasses kurosaki  Karate chop: ._. Karate chop: it's not a bad thing, really! The neighbors... Me: yeah i aint ever left a roof over my head over neighbors unless there was a knife fight involved. What else was in his moron cheeto head? Karate chop: aheheheh Karate chop: you don't mind if i talk to you about it? I don't want to bore you Me: i'm ASKING ABT IT do you want me to put up a sign too Me: give me the deets already woman Karate chop: :O grimmjow-san is a gossip!!!!!!!! GASP. Me: do i gotta pull out the emoticons

[yesterdaysnewts]

so i just finished the first season of house md and let me say

your attachment to wilson is understandable, that man has the biggest brownest eyes ive ever seen

house on the other hand has the scariest blue eyes known to man pls buy her brown contact lenses

i actually like cameron x house i would potentially like to see more of that she is a very nice contrast to house and i rlly want to see that dynamic explored even though the season 1 finale did make it pretty clear that hes still in love with stacey

speaking of which im looking forward to seeing how her presence in the hospital shakes things up

im very glad they got rid of vogler or whatever his name was i had vivid hallucinations of punching him in the face repeatedly everytime he was on screen

i want to find out what the deal with foreman is. he has matching shows with house. he hates homeless people. he committed a crime at 16. he broke into a patients house to figure out how to comfort her while she died. literally who is this man i need to knowwwww

that brings me to chase. i cant figure him out either, first hes a brown nose to house, then hes snitching on him every chance he gets, he doesnt need to money but he wants his job, he is somehow to coolest person in this show and the lamest, he wears a leather jecket and looks like he belongs in a pantene commerical. hes my favourite

also i want it to be actually brought up that house plays piano? like in the first season there are 4 seperate times he plays piano (tho he only mimes playing it one time so technically only three)

GOD this show i cant believe i didnt watch it sooner

wilson really does have the most wettest biggest brownest eyes i have ever seen and it makes him so scrunkly i need to put him in a bag and bash that bag into a brick wall

and yea houses eyes are fucking terrifying and the worse thing is that someone on a discord server once edited him to have brown eyes and somehow it was scarier

also you are like the first person ive seen express a like for cameron x house so honestly god speed for that but you do bring up some banging fucking points

live laugh love stacey that is really all i have to say to that her and house have such a good juicy relationship

fun fact vogler only exists because fox wanted someone to like oppose house and that so the writers threw him in and in process made chase a dickhead (still bbg tho)

also FOREMAN, god i love him so much like mans presents himself as like 'oh smart doctor, id want this man to be my doctor' but then as the show progresses you just end up looking at him like 'what happened here'. in s3 you do properly start to see how he parallels house and it is scrumptious top tier telly and, like chase, he is a fucking dickhead. and the car thing as well cos like he goes on about how he pulled himself out of that but then you watch and he clings to normalcy and making something of himself its brilliant

and the shit himself chase. i find it so fucking funny how his first name is robert like he does not fucking look like a robert. and his relationship with house like fucking hell, you can tell chase is desperately trying to separate himself from his actual dad and by doing that he clung onto his work and especially house in an attempt to do that.

also 'he wears a leather jacket and looks like he belongs in a pantene commercial. he is my favourite' speaks for itself cause yeag.

unfortunately i don't actually think its bought up that house can play piano later on but you do get to see him play other instruments which is fun cause hugh laurie is a really good musician and im so happy they gave house interests outside of just medicine

happy watching the show is gonna make you go just a bit insane

[lesbianmaxevans]

no but timdale is going to happen. they have to.

so sesaon 1: dale was clearly interested in both of tim and helen, and in his fear of being rejected by his mother, he decided to romantically pursue helen. even tho he starts dating helen, he still has a bit of a flirty dynamic with tim, and tim confirms that he is gay as a way to test whether dale feels similarly. tim then made their unspoken attraction explicit by kissing dale, which dale reciprocates, but he then panics because of his relationship with helen. obviously things are really tense after that (especially after dale's botched reporting on AIDS understandably upsets tim) but dale still turns to tim as his safe person, trusting tim with a lot more details about his past than he gave helen. tim tries to help dale become comfortable with being open, but dale chooses safety and to conform.

season 2: dale and helen have been going strong for a year. upon gerry making it clear that he's interested in him, dale confesses that he had a moment with "a cameraman" to which gerry asks if he wanted things to progress further. instead of dale answering that, he pivots and says he wanted to be with helen, which in his mind meant going further was not an option. imo it's clear he still thinks about their kiss from time to time, but now that tim has left the network, in his mind it's definitely not a possibility. but when helen runs into tim and mentions his name to dale, he is clearly affected. maybe he's not as out of reach as dale thought. and tim is clearly affected by seeing helen too, as we see him watching the report with the aboriginal activists. tim then shows up to the office party bc??? I'm not sure why he came honestly. but dale is clearly flustered upon seeing him, and tim quickly comes by to check in on dale and offer congratulations on how far he's come the past year. gerry eagerly initiates a conversation with tim, and they're clearly talking about his interest in dale. and then gerry is clearly trying to push the two of them together, by inviting them to accompany him to a gay club. as soon as dale and tim are alone, he lets it slip that he's single, and tim is clearly very concerned, trying to get dale to talk about it. but dale is spiraling and feeling reckless so he pulls tim with him to the dance floor. tim goes along with it at first, but when dale tries to initiate something, tim refutes him bc he doesn't want to be a rebound or a mistake. he knows dale isn't in a good headspace, and if something is going to happen with dale it's going to happen for the right reasons, not just because dale needs an escape from his emotional pain. and then the finale?!?! that gossip columnist is fishing for details about dale and tim's relationship. of course dale is panicked again, especially after seeing how people are treating gerry now that he's been outed. so he calls up tim and asks tim if the columnist calls again to tell her that they just had a professional working relationship, and tim says he won't lie. dale again is choosing the security of conforming, but when he talks to the columnist himself, he never denies a relationship with tim. he just pivots and tells her that with his position as a newsreader, that it'd be more advantageous for her to work with him than to write this story that will take away his position.

anyway I really think that dale becoming the face of the network is going to lead to him getting all the things he dreamed of, but he'll realize the pressure of having to live in repression isn't going to be worth it. I honestly think that tim and dale needed time apart for dale to realize those feelings are still there. like he said to helen in 1.06 "everytime anything happened I'd tell myself that's it. it's the last time. it's out of my system." but a year of not seeing tim, and he still feels that connection just as strongly. dale's gotta get his shit together and accept this aspect of himself before he can have anything with tim.