#meant for 💌

[yuwuta]

whenever you and satoru have an argument, he holds your hand and he won’t let go until he’s certain you’re not mad anymore. you’re telling him off because he forgot to unpack the dishwasher again, and he knows that’s his fault and you have a right to be mad but he hates when you’re mad and even worse when you’re mad at him, so he does the first thing that comes to mind and laces your hands together. now you can’t leave and be mad at him alone, you have to be mad at him while he’s connected to you and satoru has learned that that far reduces the amount of time you spend mad at him. getting upset because he led you two in the wrong direction? holding hands until you’ve cooled down. upset with him for being reckless mid-fight? he drops his infinity just to be close to you, holds your hand and tells you the curse can wait, he needs your forgiveness more. mad at him because he forgot something important on his way home? you’re holding hands until you forgive him—which could be all the way until you go to bed, or dragging you by your connected hands with him to the store to pick up what was forgotten. you get irritated with him in public? he’s quick to hold your hands and beg for kisses. sometimes the first years see you steaming and satoru following you like a lovesick puppy, his leash being your laced fingers and megumi just sighs and explain to yuuji and nobara that, “they’re fighting. this is their get along tactic, just leave them be.” 

[lavshaze]

🖤 | Terrible thing

✧ contains ⤐ SMUT. dirt and filth. oral, missionary, doggy in front of a mirror. very brief mention of a breeding kink. also very brief reference to cannibalism bc im into the artistic image it creates. title is a reference to the song by AG because I'm obsessed with that song, and with silco. oh and lethal levels of yearning but yk, that's the usual. based on a real true story! w.c ~ 2.6k

Ao3 version | part 2 | collective works

You remember how he tastes. 

The feeling of him in your mouth— warm, sweet, and entirely unexpected of someone like Silco, who's all jagged teeth and rough angles. 

You remember gazing up at him through your lashes, fingers eagerly digging into his thighs as you wait for him to open his mouth and say something— praise your performance, degrade you for being so desperate to have him that you'd get on your knees in his office, call you a filthy whore for the behavior you've been exhibiting, for acting like a bitch in heat— anything in the sonorous tone that you’ve grown accustomed to. 

But nothing comes out of his mouth. 

Instead, you blink and find yourself in a new location. One where he's on top of you taking you at an agonizingly slow pace. You're on his bed now, sinking under his weight into plush crimson sheets; the questions you had a second ago melt on your tongue when he digs himself deeper into you, erasing any coherent thought from your head.

He fucks you into the bed with a passion that you have only dreamt of finding in other men you’ve taken to bed. He splits you open at the center, keeping your legs wrapped around him securely, and stitches you together with every deep slow thrust. He buries his head into your neck, hot breath over your skin as his teeth sink into the junction of your neck and shoulder. The moan that escapes your mouth is intensified when his long lithe fingers dig into your hips, making sure to leave dark, blossoming bruises to match the ones on your neck. The thought of admiring all these marks later makes your heart beat erratically in your ribcage. 

Yeah, that's more like the Silco you know. 

Your vision blurs as you reach up to thread your fingers through his unkempt hair, so different from his usual look. Despite the slow pace, you find yourself inching closer to your release, body hungrily clenching around his length. The heat of his body and the slow languid motion of his thrusts plants a sort of heavy yearning in your heaving chest, a hunger that grows every time he’s deep inside. You want to hold onto him forever, cage him in your arms, hold him against your chest as you come undone under his ruthlessness. You want to reach out and dig your teeth into his flesh, take a part of him and keep it to yourself.  

The moment feels too short. It feels too long. You can't tell where he ends and you begin. 

His scent heightens your senses, the characteristic dark musk mixing with cigar smoke, as you find yourself drawing closer to the edge. This is something holy, something sacred, something you’ll be praying to for a tremendously long time. His hips snap against yours in a particularly brutal thrust and a devastating noise escapes you, akin to a warning. He pulls back from his attack on your neck to watch, to observe with eager eyes— dark and wide, pupils blown wider than you’ve ever seen— as you fall apart under him. 

Despite him blowing into you like a shimmer addict, the desire in your body isn't fully sated yet. 

You’re just as hungry for him as you were when you kneeled down in front of his office chair and hurriedly unbuttoned the pants holding the cure to all your late night problems. The need to see more of him lands the two of you in front of his vanity; the mirror you imagine he adjusts himself in every morning now reflects the sight of your naked bodies, giving you a perfect view of all the bruises he’s been littering your body with. Pliable under his touch, your body aches deliciously as he enters you, a firm arm on your waist holding you back from toppling over. The sensation still feels new, the ache in your chest reinvents itself over and over again. 

In this room, it feels like only the two of you exist, and all you have to care about is how he feels. 

How does he feel? 

He handles your body so recklessly and yet with so much love, bending you in whichever way he likes and taking you as deep as he can go. You give yourself to him readily as you watch his face in the mirror, aquamarine and hellfire orange merging to touch the deepest part of your soul while his cock does the work to reach the deepest part of your body. 

He wraps his other arm around your waist and kisses your neck, almost like he's apologizing for the bruises he left earlier— warm, wet tongue soothing the ache of the newest ones. 

You admire how he looks in the reflection, nose buried in your neck like he’s finding a lost part of himself in your body, like he wouldn’t mind getting on his knees and worshipping you. 

Your eyes move down to observe your own body. It responds so steadily to his touch, moving and changing every time he thrusts forward, if it weren't for his tight grip on your waist and the possessive hold he has on you, you'd be up against the mirror. You wouldn’t mind that if it meant he got to feel you deeper. But you focus on your appearance, on your breasts, on your chest and the heaving thrum of your heartbeat, on all the imperfections you thought would bother you forever. The dip of your hips, the stretch marks that decorate your body, the fat of your stomach that Silco holds so possessively. 

Were you always this perfect? 

The thought is so erotic, it makes you want to lean in and kiss the mirror, press your bare tits to the cold glass and create a mark for everyone who comes into his room to see. For everyone to know that he bent you over the vanity and fucked you until you saw stars and could only utter his name. It makes you want to turn around and kiss Silco, make him feel the same appreciation that he works so hard to fuck into you. 

The man in question lifts his head and your breath hitches when your eyes meet in the reflection. Countless people have gazed into his eyes in fear, trembled at his feet and begged for their lives, but few of them have had the pleasure of trembling under his touch in the way you’re doing right now. The thought that this man is dangerous, and undeniably cruel at times, sends a jolt through your body. The realization that you’re in the arms of a monster, a beast, and he’s holding you so affectionately, it plants an unspeakable feeling in your chest. 

You watch with bated breaths as his eyes scan over your body, appreciating everything you have to offer. It's a little humiliating— being put on such an open display, having nothing to cover up your most intimate areas besides his bruising grip that travels from your waist to fondle your breasts— but it turns you on endlessly to be ravaged by something as simple as his gaze. 

Something deep in your stomach coils as you watch a sharp, razor-like smile stretch across his face. You think about his sharp edges, how you'd willingly cut yourself on them over and over if it meant having him close. Even when he's literally inside you, filling you up to beyond satisfactory levels, you're thinking of ways to have him closer. 

The thought of him planting something irreversible inside you, something alive, passes through your head like a seductive whisper. 

Your eyes meet in the mirror again and he looks proud of his work. He must know that after he's had you, he's ruined everyone else for you. He must know that everytime you let someone else touch you, you'll be thinking of his steady slender hands; and everytime someone slips their length inside you, you'll be comparing them to his size, to his drive. He must be smug as fuck knowing that no one in the undercity will ever fuck you like he's doing right now.

He looks into your desperate, wanting eyes and knows that you belong to him. 

The thought of him being possessive over you, with all the marks he's been planting, is nearly enough to push you over the edge once again. But you hold back, wanting to savour this moment, to savour the way he stretches you out and holds you close. Your breathing grows erratic and your pleas more desperate, but you hold it in because he looks at you like it's a silent order. If you hold out a little longer, you can come together.

The increasingly loud sound of your moans and gasps makes you long for his voice. You realize, on the verge of ruin, that he hasn't spoken much to you. This whole time, the sounds echoing through the bedroom have been coming out of your throat, deep from your chest, and only intermittently interrupted by his groans as he drilled into you like an animal. He hasn't been talking to you, using that silver tongue of his at what he does best, telling you things to satisfy that gnawing desire in your chest. 

You wanted him to tell you that he loved you, but you wouldn't fling that onto him during your first time together. You wanted to hear him call you nice things, call you pretty and use pet names like he always does outside the premises of the bedroom. Darling, dove, lovely, filthy, whore, slut. You wanted him to be a little mean, tease you for how desperate you've been to get into his pants. You wanted him to claim you verbally the way he does physically, you wanted him to say it out loud, claim you as his in a passionate declaration so you could replay it in your head when you touch yourself to the thought of him. 

You wanted to hear his voice. 

You straighten your back, pushing up against his chest, and tilt your head slightly to try and face him. You observe his neck and his flushed complexion, watch his throat bobbing like he's almost nervous that you're looking so closely. You notice some fresh love bites that you barely remember creating on his neck, but they're undeniably yours. It’s almost like they carve your name into him. You soften at the sight, realizing that Silco must trust you tremendously to let you touch him so intimately, especially around his neck. 

He looks down at you and you admire the shape of his nose, hoping that you'll get to have it between your legs soon. You look directly into his eyes and feel your knees grow weaker at the fondness in them, so raw and honest, like everything he's ever given you. The scarred side of his face is uncovered, giving you a clear view of the dark grooves that run down his face, like river streams flowing down to his neck. You lean your head further back, resting it on his shoulder, losing sight of his normal eye but holding the gaze of the altered one. The deep charcoal has always fascinated you, how someone could survive and continue fighting after being plunged into the depth of darkness of betrayal. But what always stole your breath away was the burning orange in the middle, illuminating the orb like a vicious flame in the middle of the rich black darkness. You catch your reflection in them and feel your chest swell with pride, the Eye of Zaun only has eyes for you.    

Your eyes move down to his lips and you feel the desire inside you increase tenfold. The shape that you've spent years memorizing, pinning after, it's so close in your reach now. Your mouth goes dry when you realize he's drawing in closer, the same idea infiltrating his mind. 

You can almost taste the alcohol and rich flavorful cigar on his lips, only a sliver of distance between you and everything you’ve been yearning for. 

But not all good things come to fruition. 

You should've known. It doesn't make sense. 

Three years of being his friend, being at his side when he needed you the most, growing closer despite everyone warning you about the notorious crime lord ruling over Zaun. Months of pining over him and memorizing his features and the lovely shape of his lips, wanting desperately to get a taste of him, to get a taste of the bitter and evil monster that sends horror coursing through the undercity. Sitting in his office, on his couch, pretending to innocently read the book you borrowed like you weren't imagining him bending you over that desk and fucking you until your legs were shaking.

Nearly a year of harboring feelings for him and you've never told him. 

The first thing you see is darkness. It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the lighting, and you realize, with a heavy heart, that you're in your bedroom. Alone, no Silco between your legs, nothing to accompany you besides the dull aching in your lower stomach and the wetness between your thighs. 

You knew your feelings for him were getting out of hand, but a wet dream like that is officially reaching a new low. 

Not that you haven't had dirty dreams about him before, or fleeting inappropriate thoughts when you were around him, but none of them have felt this raw. You've never felt so loved in any of your previous wet dreams, and you're starting to doubt if you've ever felt that loved when awake too. 

You turn to plant your face into the pillow, groaning in frustration. Even in your dreams, he fucks like an animal and loves like a starving artist. It felt like you were cursed; when everyone was warning you about him, they forgot to mention that you'd want to fuck him so bad it would haunt your every waking thought— and sleeping ones too, apparently. 

The alarm besides your bed beeps and you lift your head up from the eternal anguish to glimpse the time. The realization that it's 6:50 on a Saturday night jolts you awake. 

In exactly half an hour— 7:20 never made sense to you but you've learned to stop asking questions when it comes to Silco— you were supposed to meet the man who was just fucking the daylight out of you. Or, well, the man you wish would fuck the daylight out of you, and the nighttime and all times of the day really. But that's besides the point, you're fucked, and not in the way you need to be. 

You fight the urge to bury yourself into your bed sheets and just play dead until Sevika or some other trusted employee comes to drag you out of your apartment. But the thought of having to meet him in your sleepwear, the one with all the evidence of your arousal, was more mortifying than having to pretend you aren't thinking filthy, dirty thoughts about him. 

You've done it before, how hard could it be? 

Besides, it's almost a family activity now, your weekly meetups. Maybe Jinx will be there and a reluctant Sevika will join you and attempt to teach you how to play poker and you'll suck at it and it will just be a good old fun time. And you wouldn't be thinking of how sexy he looks when he leans back on the couch and drinks his whiskey like that and blows smoke rings and smirks when you lose and- 

No.

You were going to get up, take a cold freezing shower, and exorcise every dirty thought from your gutter of a mind. You were going to sit in his office and not have a single deranged thought about him, and it was going to be fine. 

Right? 

[b1mbodoll]

pairings: yoo karina x f! reader

warnings: vampire! karina + vampire hunter! reader + blood + g!p + biting + breeding

💌: shoutout to soundgasm femdom vampire audios and rose toys!!!!!!

hunting g!p vampire karina .. ‘s a cat n mouse game between the two of you, her coming close enough to turn you, fangs inches from your throat before you stab her thigh with a stake.. you finding one of her hideouts, behind her with a stake before she suddenly disappears, vampire speed allowing her to suddenly have you pressed against the wall.

she doesn’t really wanna kill you! just wants to breed the pretty little hunter that’s been tracking her consistently. n she doesnt seem to mind the back n forth between you two, it only makes her wanna break you more. wants to have you at her mercy, with her thick, long cock rearranging your insides.

you struggle against her, trying to face her but it’s no use, you’re no match for her inhuman strength.

she wants to see you, so once you’ve finished squirming she turns you around herself, keeping your wrists pinned above your head. “aren’t you just the sweetest little thing..” she coos, leaning into your neck n inhaling deeply, her tongue flicking out to drag along your jugular. “smell so sweet, darling. bet you taste even better.”

you sneer at her, ignoring the ache between your legs. “fuck off, m not your bloodbag, bitch.”

“well, that’s certainly no way to speak to someone that could kill you in a second, is it? i’ll rip your throat out before you can even call for help if you don’t behave.”

once you’ve settled down, rina tears your top off, eyes locked on your tits as she uses one hand to tug your bra below them, wanting to get a proper look. “such beautiful tits.. tell me huntress, you seem to hate me, yet your scent carries hints of arousal.. why is that?”

you refuse to meet her eyes, choosing to keep your mouth shut. she simply tuts, groping your chest and pinching your nipple between her fingers.

“well, since you don’t want to tell me, i’ll have to assume it’s because you want me just as much as i want you.”

“did you know i’ve fantasized about this?” she presses an openmouthed kiss to your collarbone, “about how well you’d take my cock in your slutty cunt. and now,” karina slides her hand between your legs, pressing her fingers against your clothed pussy. “looks like i won’t have to anymore. ‘m gonna breed you, human.”

she’s ballsdeep in your hole, her drool making a mess on your neck and chest, strings of saliva clinging to her bottom lip as she pulls away from your nipple, her teeth aching to sink into the flesh.

“fuck— oh god. fuck you, karina.” you groan, biting your lip in an effort to contain your moans of pleasure. rather than snark back, the vampire indulges in a bit of your blood, cupping your tit in her hand before biting the soft skin, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as your pussy clenches around her length and your blood floods her mouth.

she sucks and sucks and sucks, getting drunk off the taste of you, her cock twitching inside of you when your hands push at her head, pressing her face deeper into your chest.

for someone that didn’t seem to want this, you sure seem to be enjoying yourself.

you’re completely delirious from the loss of blood, moaning out her name and once karina’s had her fill you whine at her, trying to press your lips to hers n failing. but she isn’t completely cruel, bloodstained lips meeting yours as she continues to batter your cervix, cockhead slamming into you unrelentlessly.

the taste of iron in your mouth causes you to to wince but the vampire wont let you pull away, sloppily kissing you and making a mess of your pretty face with your own blood.

the sight is enough to make karina come, biting your jaw before pressing her hips into yours, cock impossibly deep inside of you, the tip piercing your cervix as it twitches, spilling rope after rope of her thick, sticky semen into your womb.

and don’t even think of running away; karina’s dreamed of having you as her pet, there’s no way she’s letting you go.

[houseofhyde]

omg i LOVE ur manchild fic🙏🙏

i so feel like the first time they’d say i love you would be over the phone when bucky was away on mission

hed def be the one to say it first

like youd jump to pick up the no caller id call knowing its him

and yk how like hed always keep it short like one sentence and would wait for her to say hello

shed be like ‘hello’ expecting him to js say ‘im fine’ or ‘go back to sleep’ and hed just say ‘i love u’ out of the blue and then hang up the phone before u could even get a word in

i swear buckys acc the loml😔

no bc you actually dug into the crevice of my mind and pulled this out, anon!

they're such an unconventional pair — despite being made for each other — because, between reader's attachment avoidance issues and bucky's... well, everything, labels and traditional relationship milestones would often happen unexpectedly.

i'm 100% on board with both the fact that: 1) bucky says it first & 2) he says while away on a mission. it's barely even enunciated properly, more just a pile of letters smushed together in bucky's mouth and spit down a staticky line of poor-connection.

"iloveyou," and he's hung up, gone, abandoning you to the silence.

except, with bucky's infamously bad timing, this is the one time you're not in silence, you're not in bed, you're not even at home. you're stood completely still in the middle of a club's dance floor, drunk out your face (or not, wtv floats you boat), with your friends dancing all around you, and you're just staring. out into space, wide eyed, while pitbull or neyo or wtv early 2000s pop song is playing over the speakers.

that (sweet) motherfucker has just stained the first i love you in the taste of vodka, the stench of sweat, and he has the nerve to not even physically be here for you to berate him over it, and then kiss him ofc bc he's so handsome, and sweet, and he loves you.

you don't bring it up when he calls the next day. or the day after. or even the day after after. so bucky is, of course, doing what bucky does best: panicking!

good. serves him right.

safe to say his hands are a little shaky when he's eventually unlocking the front door to your apartment, until he sees you, cursing under your breath and holding your hand under the running water of the kitchen sink.

attentive and worried, his bags are abandoned on the floor in favour of racing over to you, heart beating harder than it was when he was actively being shot at two days ago (he will definitely not be telling you about that, ofc). all that panic just to see you've accidentally burnt the tip of your fingers taking something out the oven and, even though you try to shrug off his worried chastising, you fold instantly to his silent request to kiss your fingertips better.

"i think i'll just stick to letting you bake," you eventually cough up in shame, and that's when he finally notices something on the kitchen island.

a very poorly decorated cake, featuring your awful handwriting that he's learnt to understand: i love you too.

he eats the cake, and then you.

god i'm actually insane about these two, someone take me out back and shoot me!!

[ireneaesthetic]

Pointing out little moments and details of scenes that need to be remembered.

lake scene • episode 6

before diving into it, bare with me! the lake scene wouldn't be the lake scene if it wasn't for edvin and omar fr: the uncut version of the convo wilmon has was 8 minutes long and all improvised when it was shot. edmar just got told to say what they thought wilmon wanted to say and boom! this lake scene happened. no one is doing it like them.

oh alice is the cherry on top - the 'oh alice we're growing up', the melody fits the setting and the warm colors just right. the perfect song for the perfect scene.

talking about song - wille's song was written right after this scene as lisa said: 'i could see simon walking back home that night, sitting down by his keyboard, birds singing outside, the sun already up and finally it dawning in him: it shouldn't be a revolution to love someone'. do what you want with this info!

without further ado, let's get into it :)

the little smirk after wille stumbles is cuuute. terms are not the best but it still takes something so simple to lighten the mood.

wille's carrying his blue blanket with him can only mean they went to his room to take it before heading here - and so in the time between scenes they talked and thought about the lake to forget everything, planned to bring a blanket to lie down on and enjoy the sunrise, just the two of them :')

you can see the weight of the situation suddenly hitting him.

it's so bittersweet - the lake has always been their happy place but the mood is much darker now, they're sharing what they think is the last big moment together at sunrise.

they try to keep the convo as light as possible but they know too well how much this hurts.

the single tear streaming down.

the different reactions are what get me the most: wille seems almost relaxed in letting the emotions take over compared to simon who's very controlling over it - he blinks and bites his lip trying to stop more tears from falling, he averts his eyes.

simon's not so accepting whilst wille looks resigned.

the scene makes the best out of the limited time bc nothing feels rushed at all: there's no music at first to create that alone time intimacy properly and it keeps getting better with the camera focusing on the way they look at each other shot after shot.

wilhelm breaking the silence with it takes a fool to remain sane is the sickest thing isweartogod.

such a monumental and fond throwback. it's the first memory they have of each other but it's also the first one we have of wilmon too. it brings everyone back to that very first time.

this shot is incredible. young royals will always hold a special place in my heart and i want to remember wilmon just like this.

you would never tell they saw and touched and explored each other's body more than once by the way they're both so shy to undress and wilhelm has to tear his eyes away from simon.

they're still my favorite losers <3

it's also the first time simon undresses himself without wille's help. i think the essence is - to be completely bare and show the most vulnerable version of themselves, to get rid of all the layers and weights they carry around, to let it all behind for this one last time together.

the sparkle in simon's eyes when he looks at wille is so sweet. it's more of a bitter taste that comes with this scene, but in a list of moments that are a perfect example of how much they simply enjoy each other's company, this is definitely one of those - simon says 'when it was us it was good' at the end and it is very true.

all i see here is the plain and simple version of them, they feel so much and everything about this scene is telling us that they just needed to found the right place and the right time to let it out - the nostalgia, the sorrow, the sadness, the silly energy too. it's all so pure.

'they undress, they walk down into the water naked, and they are rebirthed'. lisa once described this moment using these words and they're probably the most accurate. it reminds me of the thing i wrote earlier - taking the white clothes off feels like freeing themselves of every burden and then stepping into the water as a form of sanctification of it.

whether you see it in a religious or a non-religious way, it is a very beautiful image.

the eye contact game is going stronger than everrr.

they're too pretty to be real ugh.

the splash of water :')

this is extremely beautiful and the transition between the two is perfectly made.

it's such a loving gesture - we can't really tell which one of the two is done before but it's the fact simon does it twice that matters: he follows the instinct to do it once but it's still not enough so he feels the need to do it again.

this shot was one of the stills that came out for promo before the season's release and i remember being completely blown away by it.

i claimed it and said this scene would be one of the core ones of the show and well, i guess i was right!

the whole water sequence is a visual representation of simon getting further and further away from wilhelm. both times he turns around to look at him tho - it's not what he wants to do but he has to do it for their sake.

also! one pov is from into the water and the other one is from the shore. idk if it's casual or hides an actual meaning but it's fun to point out sooo

too many single tears were shed for my fragile heart to handle.

this pretty much sums up the way i felt at the end too.

pain is written all over simon's face but i was not prepared for wille's sobs and his shoulders uncontrollably shaking. stab me.

he just keeps watching simon slip through his fingers and he's left to wonder what's supposed to happen now?.

from wille's words - 'how can you just be over me? i thought it would be us' - we learn that he's convinced simon is already over them and he's alone in struggling to accept it and move on (oh if only he knew).

he breathes but this is more of a this is it sigh - now it's time for me to learn how to let him go.

[14dayswithyou]

Hi, Howdy! Hey! I really love your novel!! I got a little confused by the 4 day, may maybe you help me please? who is it? why we got the bad end staying the night in Ren’s apartment and he disappear of the home screen? I can’t understand “unset memory” game, sorry if I wrote smth wrong or smth sounds rude, I swear that I didn’t mean it if happened, I’m really a fan of the novel, I’ve been playing the game since day 1 or 2 I guess, probably day 1, english isn’t my first language, but I tried lol

⌞♥⌝ I hope you don't mind me answering these as bullet points!! ^^

"It" will be revealed later in the game! So I won't reveal too much right now.

You can only get the Dead End in Day 4 by staying at Ren's apartment — the rest of your choices before that don't matter. I'd also pay closer attention to the black smoke and Ren's reaction towards it!

Ren disappears from the home screen because he promised to help the player out (and stop them from getting the Dead End again). Try replaying the game again from the beginning for a surprise!

"Unsent Memories" was another visual novel (initially being written by @10chimes / @unsentmemory, though the project has since been dropped and handed back to me /pos) and is set in the same universe as 14 Days With You. Its storyline and characters are completely separate from 14DWY, so you don't have to worry about them while playing 14DWY.

[lcs-scar]

I request jer content…

And you shall receive!

[lavendermin]

Please don't leave us hanging from the Jing yuan drabble I'm afraid you awoken something in me (take your time also take good care of yourself 💖💯💯)

If you mean the little drabble of jing yuan being told he’s going to have 8 kids in the future, I have soooo many thoughts I’m trying to put together. He makes me insane, anon 🫠💗💗💗

a continuation based off this post below

cw | pregnancy, breeding kink, fem reader

Needless to say the words linger in his mind for the rest of the day. They play over and over in Jing Yuan’s head. He needs to process them, but what’s there to process?

Coming from the Master Diviner of all people, it was a prominent future she saw. It tells him two things: one, Fu Xuan has been checking up on him (this one is her job actually) and two, he’ll be quite busy with his spouse soon.

How soon? Jing yuan can’t help but wonder. And he didn’t want to pry with Fu Xuan. Best not to give her the upper hand with something to tease him with.

“Something on your mind, love?” Your question brings him out of his pondering. He takes a seat on the couch next to you, a quiet sigh leaving his lips as he sinks into the plush comfort.

“Just a few things I have to do.” His reply is vague and the smug smile he wears makes you raise a brow.

You shuffle over to straddle his thighs, nimble hands working into his tense shoulders.

“A lot of work recently? Will you be busier?”

He chuckles, closing his eyes to relish the attention you give him.

“Mm. Something along those lines.”

“Want me to run a bath for us?”

His hands absentmindedly settle on your hips. “A little later. Haven’t even kissed my wife yet.”

You can’t help but smile with a little roll of your eyes, easily giving in and placing a peck to his lips. It’s chaste and loving—a sincere ‘welcome home’. But as Jing Yuan chases your lips, it’s clear there’s something more he’s after.

You pull away breathless, a string of saliva connecting you both. It’s a little obscene, even for him. “J-Jing–”

He cuts you off as his lips slot over yours again, his tongue pushing into your mouth greedily. This kind of possessiveness was rare with him. It lit a fire in your belly when he got like this. But…

“Jing Yuan– Wait,” you lightly push him off you. His lips continue to feverishly press kisses to your jaw and neck. A sharp gasp leaves you as his hands start to slowly grind you back and forth on his thigh. “L-Love, I’m ovulating. We can’t– It’s too risky.”

It wasn’t like him to be this lost to reason. A rumble akin to a growl leaves him as soon as you mention it. By now your neck is littered in marks he’s sucked to the delicate skin there. Jing Yuan is breathless as he uses all the resolve he has left to stop, his breath hot against your bare chest where he was already pulling down your top.

You can’t help looking at him with concern. In an instant, he looks up at you with composure back under rein. His smile is sweet, devilish as it hides the insatiable hunger that’s growing at an alarming rate.

“All the more reason to make love to my precious wife, wouldn’t you say?”

With the opportunity presented to himself and the tangible future of his wife, lovely and pregnant, he thinks himself a fool not to start now.

You chuckle at first, assuming it’s some of Jing Yuan’s usual teasing. But as his eyes lock with yours, unwavering and pupils blown wide with lust as his arms press you further against his broad body, it dawns on you that he’s completely serious.

“You– We,” you stutter as you feel your core throb with a surge of need. Damn those hormones during your ovulation. In a small, shaky voice you ask, “I thought you said you wanted to wait until you retired… Do you really want to try for a baby?”

There’s a glimmer in your eyes, chest tight with a flood of different emotions. Anticipation, unabashed lust, adoration.

Jing Yuan responds with a chuckle, opting to gently pull your face for a kiss. This one is only a light simmer of the ardent need he has to breed you until dawn.

“If you’re agreeable, of course. There’s a saying from a few star systems down that says life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans. I’ve already made you my wife, I’d love to also make you a mother.”

The bright smile that breaks on your face is all the answer he needs as you pull his face in to litter kisses all over his face, ending by going in for a kiss that leaves him smiling like an idiot. Your idiot.

Jing Yuan has no plans to retire soon, but officially starting his family rejuvenated his resolve to continue as general for a while longer. There was still work to be done to keep the Xianzhou safe and ensure the era of peace continues for his children. He’ll have to thank Fu Xuan later for the slip of her tongue.

And it’s no surprise that making love to you for the next few consecutive days proves fruitful a couple weeks later.

Gossip and rumor spreads fast, especially with Jing Yuan being general of the Luofu. He’s constantly in the eye of the public. Once your tummy starts showing a bit more, he can’t help but stroll around proudly with you by his side—his hand protectively on your belly whenever he can. The people call your pregnancy a sign of abundant good luck, an omen for exceptional good to come in the future. Likewise, Jing Yuan is positively over the moon as a soon-to-be-father.

He can’t wait to hold his twin girls in a few months.

And after that, he can breed you again. And again. And again. It’s in his future, after all.

[deviouz]

. . . mean jason todd !!

jason todd is the type to fuck you so good tears seem to permanently stain your cheeks and leave your skin feeling raw after all is said and done. he’d have your body contorted and folded in, knees pressed firmly against your chest and legs thrown over his broad, scarred up shoulders. he smirks so cruelly as he absolutely destroys your poor cunt, tip of his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust of his hips.

“‘s the matter, pretty girl? you’re crying so pretty for me. got you drunk on my cock, don’t i?”

jason todd is also the type to grab your jaw and dig his fingers into your cheeks, pushing them together and laughing at the embarrassed whines that garble out of your throat. he’ll stare down at you with those pretty eyes of his, his gaze stern and unwavering, hips still snapping away without much thought. you’re practically drowning in pleasure as jason is ever so in tune with your body, what makes you tick.

“you gonna look at me when you come? i don’t want you lookin’ away from me, not even for a second. let me see that pretty face when i make you come on my cock, doll. that’s it, just like that.”

jason todd is just so mean to his pretty girl. he’ll mock your pleas just to make you repeat them loud enough your voice shakes and broken, desperate sobs push past kiss-swollen lips. if you don’t beg just right, he’ll show his thrusts, eyes focused on yours, as he smiles down at you, all sharp and all teeth.

“what was that? don’t think i quite heard you. say it again for me, yeah?”

jason todd will deny you of your release endless times, simply because he can. he gets a giddy joy at seeing how unabashed you can get at the continuous denial of release. you shake and cry and beg and thrash in his grip, but nothing ever seems to persuade him.

“you can come when i say you can, do you understand? now, be a good girl and shut the fuck up and just take it.”

likes + reblogs heavily encouraged and appreciated!!

[cheriecoke]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ IN ALL THE LINES I'VE READ — nanami kento

summary . . . coffee shop meet cute with literature professor nanami <3

contents . . . sfw, written w f!reader in mind, lit prof nanami tehe, fluff, grumpy nanami, reader is a barista, age gap (nanami early 30s, reader early 20s) — 1.4k

notes . . . selfship coded :,,) this is such a random idea from rylie's brain (and drafts) bc i must post something for my most beloved for valentine’s day <33 i have some other ideas for this so let me know if you like it !!!

The first time you meet Nanami Kento, it’s in a dimly lit cafe in your hometown. 

The evening is just dawning upon you, the grey of the dreary sky turning into a muted black. It’s just after 5pm; the sun already fading into the horizon, drizzly rain coating the windows like crystals. 

You’ve been busy all day — it’s always busy on rainy days, when people seem to recall that the ambience of rain pelting outside mixes well with a cup of warm coffee between your palms. The tables are all full, now that people have gotten off work, and it’s a favorite study spot of many students. 

It’s tiring work sometimes, and there are days where you get weary of the same routine. When saving up money seems like a fruitless effort, and you feel like your life should’ve begun already.

But it’s also good to be around people like this… Seeing them laugh and smile, while you only wonder what they’re talking about. The job pays less, but it’s better than being cooped up in a office all day. 

“Hey,” one of the other baristas sets a latte down, a pattern of milk sitting just on top. “Can you run this to the man over there,” she points to a blonde in the corner of the cafe. 

Wordlessly, you take the mug, wiping the drops of coffee that have spilled over the sides of it. The customer had ordered a pastry as well, one of your favorites. There is a small puff of steam wafting off of it, the bottom of the plate still hot.

The man’s back is towards you, facing the window, and he’s bent over a pile of papers. You can’t see his face — but his hair is done up nicely, and his white button-down sleeves are rolled up to his elbow. There’s a nice watch on his wrist, silver and black; one that’s probably more expensive than anything you own.

It’s a balancing act, weaving through the tables with the pastry and mug in hand, and when you get to his, there’s no room to set his order down. Papers are scattered across the table, and there is a stack of well-loved books beside him. A few are titles you recognize, ones you’ve read, ones you own but haven’t gotten to. Some you know only vaguely. 

“Here’s the latte,” you say, distracted, scanning the spines of the books. The man mutters an apology, and moves his papers so that you can set the coffee and plate down. 

He doesn’t look up at you, offering only a dismissive thank you. But the sound goes unnoticed by you; you’re too preoccupied by your excitement. So few people walk in here with with books you’re actually interested in discussing. 

“I’ve been meaning to read that one,” you say, pointing to a title that is on your long list of books to be read. 

He hums — it’s obvious he doesn’t care, and the sound is just one of acknowledgement.

Embarrassment heats your cheeks as you realize this is probably something he gets often. Upon second glance, he’s attractive… breathtakingly so. He probably fends of hoards of woman, ones who use books to gain the key to his heart, even if they’re only pretending to be interested.

“I enjoyed his other books,” you continue, highlighting the ones that you’ve read and love. At least, then, he’ll know you’re not an idiot, even if he stays silent, eyes glued to the paper. 

His pen stops scratching marks into the sheet, but only for a second. Then, he carries on, unimpressed by whatever slim knowledge you’re able to supply. 

“Are you a teacher?” The words leave your lips, once before you can stop yourself.

He doesn’t care. You aren’t sure why you’re even still bothering. 

“Nope,” he replies, finishing up his summarized commentary, scribbled in a penmanship that is something in between messy and elegant. “A professor.” 

“Oh.” You’d thought he was too young to be a professor, but when you look at home closer, there are faint lines around his eyes, ones even more obvious on his forehead. Around thirty, you’d guess. Maybe even older than that. “That’s interesting.”

You should probably leave him alone. He’s busy, and you’re supposed to be working, and he probably thinks you’re a child, the way you’re talking to him like a brick wall. Yet, there is something about him that keeps you glued to your spot, so intrigued by the stack of novels and the way his hand flexes around the pen. 

“Is it?” There is a hint of irritation in his voice when he finally glances up at you from under the round, wire-rimmed glasses, perched on the bridge of his nose. The pen drops onto the table with a soft click. “Because, I find that—”

His lips part. Whatever he was going to say next seems to die, abruptly cut off, and he blinks at you. Two dark eyes scan your face with a hint of surprise. 

You’re cheeks warm, and you suddenly feel uncomfortable. It’s not typical of you to make conversation with strangers, and you’re certain he notices how awkwardly you’re standing. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, clearing your throat, and pointedly ignoring the lump in it. His silhouette had been striking enough, but it’s nothing compared to the entirety of his face. He’s beautiful — like he’s stepped right out of the pages of a novel himself. He feels like everything you’ve ever wanted, with his stack of books and piercing irises. “I’ll let you get back to grading.” 

“No need to apologize.” The tone shifts a bit, his voice not as rough. Maybe you’re just delusional, but his eyes appear to soften. “I’m almost done, anyway.” 

You nod, and a little smile pulls onto your face. It’s not quite true; the stack of ungraded papers is twice as large as the ones he’s finished. “Well, I should … Get back to work. Enjoy the coffee.” 

He smiles, amused; your heart flips, then sinks all the way down to your stomach, pounding. “Alright. Thank you.”

“Have a good night!” you say, far too quickly, before turning on your heels. Your hands are sweating, and you hope he never comes in again, because you’re not sure that you can stand the embarrassment you feel. 

The blonde professor, name unknown, lets you go, and you slink off to hide in the kitchen, cursing yourself for acting like a fool. With hot cheeks, you down a glass of water, big gulps from your shaking hands, and glare at your co-worker when she grins to herself. 

Thirty minutes later, your shift ends, and the professor has made his way out the door, walking down the sidewalk. As you leave the cafe, your bag over your shoulder and hair undone, you notice that he left one of his novels, the one you’d pointed out to him in the beginning of your conversation. 

You rush out to stop him, carrying the book with you. “Hey,” you shout, waving it to the stranger. “You left this.” 

He glances over his shoulders, bundled up in a coat to combat the brisk air. There’s a redness on his cheeks from the cold, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I know,” he says, hands firmly tucked in his pockets. “You can keep it.” 

“But—” you start, swallowing as the pages rustle with the wind, the cover snapping open. 

“You wanted to read it, didn’t you?” he shrugs. “I’ve got lots of copies. You can give it back to me when you finish.” 

You start to question him, but he’s already turned around, heading away. 

Which means he’ll be back, won’t it? You haven’t scared him away completely. 

You shout something at him, and turns, just halfway, making a face that tells you he didn’t hear you.

“That’s my name,” you say again, repeating it, licking your lips. Your only hope is that he’ll offer his. 

But he doesn’t — he keeps walking down the sidewalk, before he answers a phone call, and crosses the street.

Unsurprising.  

You sigh, gaze dropping down to the book. The pages are filled and filled with his handwriting, notes in the margins, highlights and lines across the words. So much thought had been put into it, that you wonder how many times he’s read this book, if maybe, it’s a favorite. 

The wind flicks the cover back to the front title page, the publisher underneath. In the top right hand corner, Nanami Kento is smoothly written. As if he’d wanted you to discover it yourself, instead of hearing it from his lips.

You trace it, and smile. 

[jesuistrestriste]

You say gooner!art and no one bats an eye.. but if you say incel!art everyone loses their minds

PLEASE. i cant bring myself to think too hard about incel!art because the incel “community” is literally demonic and i can’t imagine art getting swept up in that grossness.

however..

is gooner!art, by definition, an incel? i would say yes. he wants to be having sex, but the trouble is actually getting someone in bed who isn’t immediately turned off by his porn brain. he rots in his room, and jerks himself off, and cries into his cum rag about being a loser. i think he would dabble in some seedy incel forum on reddit but be absolutely disgusted by the content posted in there because what ! he loves women ! ! women are amazing and sexy and get his head all fuzzy and his cock hard ! ! he doesn’t hate women ! these dudes are nuts ! ! !

but he does feel sad/frustrated sometimes about the fact that some girls’ standards are so high that they won’t even consider touching him below the belt, even if he knows that he’s considered conventionally attractive. hm.. i don’t know….

[punkeropercyjackson]

They're both black british punks but there's not a strong enough word for how much Hobie Brown and Thalia Grace would hate eachother

[b1mbodoll]

need jungwon to talk me through it but make me stop everytime i get close and when i cry he kisses the tears away n tells me what a good job i’m doing n then he’ll take over for me, because it’s been soooo long and im losing my resolve so i just hold his hand while the other fucks my needy cunt until he decides i’ve held out long enough snd i finally get to cum 💗

i think i’m insane

love, 🔗

pairings: yang jungwon x f! reader

warnings: sadism + fingering + overstimulation + orgasm denial + praise kink + degradation

💌: when the function (me in thr kitchen) got black cherry mike’s hard and jungwon smut

no bcs i think jungwon is a little bit of a sadist… not Super sadistic but he has sadistic tendencies n it manifests in the form of orgasm denial. but he’s also such a sweetheart he takes such good care of you after

he’d love to see you cry for him when he denies you of an orgasm, and it makes his cock throb because you’re trying soso hard to be such a good little doll for him :( doing ur best at following instructions n touching yourself exactly how he wants you to. wonie can tell ‘s a little hard to obey his order of rubbing your clit, your arm shaking n face scrunched as you fight your orgasm, “that’s it baby, jus’ like that.” n he’ll stare intently, ensuring you aren’t doing it halfheartedly.

but if he notices you’re getting a little dumb n forget that you’re Not supposed to cum, he’ll reprimand you with a, “no, no, no. are you too stupid to remember what i told you, dummy? keep going and don’t cum.”

if you’ve been good n haven’t cum without permission from jungwon, that’s when he rewards you, taking your slick digits into his mouth to clean them before pressing a kiss to your wrist and interlocking your fingers. he’s so skilled with his hands too, n doesn’t mind using just one to pleasure his sweet girl, inserting two of his long n pretty fingers deep inside your wet cunt, his thumb pressing n rubbing at your sensitive clit to build up your climax, wanting you to cum as many times as possible for him since you did soso good.

jungwon’s voice is strained from him trying to control himself as he watches you lose your mind, chanting his name over n over, but he encourages you, “c’mon angel, one more time, you can do it. bein’ such a good girl n squeezin’ me so tight, i know you want to.”

and he’d even press his thumb harder against your clit, desperate to hear your choked out whimper when you finally cum, clawing at his hand to get him to stop

[yesandpeeps]

may i request art of aether and swiss? :3

Their asses are NOT listening‼️

[rizzanon]

OH MY GOD I JS REALIZED SMTH

READER IS A FUCKING BAKER. HER BEST FRIEND IS NAMED ADRIEN AND HES BLONDE. UR SO NAWT BEATING THE MLB ACCUSATIONS LMFAOOOO

AND PLUS ALSO RHAG ONE ANON WHO WROTE ABIHT READER OPENING A BAKERY

reader is nawt beating the marrinette accusations </3

-🍰

she ain’t a baker whatchu talking about 🤔🥱🤫 (FUCK. WAIT. NAH. I DIDN’T REALISE. SHIT. 😭😭)

[14dayswithyou]

Ren owes me 20 dollars !

I don't know if this has been asked yet but what is in that weird room in his house cause if I remember correctly that was on day 3 where he had no motive to kill anyone so i don't think there's a body there but he did say that marble was hard to clean which I guess he's talking about cleaning blood off of it? and he also said being the only one on the floor is a perk so I'm confused does the room have bodies or nah and did ren kill someone? even tho it's not anyone close to angel

sorry if I'm asking too many questions I just got it lately and I've been so confused lol TT also it's such a good game and the way you made him such a cutie patootie is just so ugh I genuinely can't pick a fav persona it's so good <333

⌞♥⌝ I won't outright confirm or deny anything since these are mainly pieces of information you'll learn more about in future updates!! Also... Please keep in mind that Ren is literally trying to present himself as a normal person (as opposed to a yandere), and there are currently only four "Days" available right now, so I don't think it'd be fun if I spoiled everything straight away.

But it's great to see that folks are paying attention to all these little details scattered around the game, though! I promise it'll all be worth it — and start to make sense — once more Days are revealed!

I also haven't really seen much of this happening in the #14DaysWithYou tag (/pos), but I greatly encourage those who are interested to share their theories! I'll reblog 'em the next time I have a chance to sit down and go through da tags >:3