#my absolute FAVORITE form of self care man…

[mars-ipan]

ohhh i needed that bath so goddamn much

[murdrdocs]

coriolanus snow who pretends he hates pleasuring you. fem! reader

he pretends when he fucks you, and you're moaning all prettily and squeezing around his cock, the euphoria he feels is of pure nature only. he tells himself it's solely because he's still a young man, not long ago was he a teenage boy, and there's no greater joy to him than getting his dick wet. he wants to believe that he's just addicted to your cunt based off of primal desires, the sheer obsession of the pleasurably mind numbing feeling of driving his dick in and out in a rhythmic dance.

yet, how can he pretend he doesn't enjoy it when he's willingly pleasing you in ways that give him absolutely no physical gratification, besides the occasional desperate grind of his cock into the mattress. there is no self deception whenever he's just as obsessed, maybe even more, with getting you off on his tongue as he is with getting you off on his dick.

and at times, he begrudgingly reminds himself that he wasn't always like this. he reminds himself of his old refusals and denials. he once lacked any desire to position his face between a woman's legs, which would almost completely cover the feature he was most proud of. he believed it would be a waste, an act he would only deliver in hopes that the service would be returned upon him thereafter. after a few occurrences, he found himself caring less and less about getting his own dick sucked and more about discovering how many times he can lead you to the highest form of pleasure by work of only his mouth.

it became something he was proud of, something that boosted his ego, something he could boast about to you as he threw in his favorite term of endearment ("my girl"). and it all started when you pointed out the size of coriolanus' nose and lips, almost slyly hinting at what he could accomplish with his features.

[cyberm4n]

NSFW Alphabet for Alastor, Vox and Husk if you don’t mind pretty please!

as you wish :)

NSF/W ALPHABET

feat. alastor, vox, and husk

i wrote this over the span of a week and for a good portion of this i was pretty drunk so my apologies if it gets messy

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

alastor would recognize the need for aftercare but like as soon as you're fine and happy he's done with this whole ordeal. especially if you're someone who needs cuddles he will tolerate it until the exact moment you don't need him to.

vox tbh gives the vibes of like, he doesn't entirely think aftercare is necessary so only if he's in a good mood will he settle in and take care of you after.

husk is 100% all in on aftercare. you need water? done. need a towel? he's got them ready. anything you need he has it or will do it. he'd probably be SUPER big on cuddling though but he'd never admit it. he does get sleepy very easily tho.

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

alastor doesn't seem the type to have a favorite body part but if he did it would be your neck. sorry.

vox is definitely an ass man 100% he always appreciates some ass

husk i feel would be particular about your hands, idk why he just gives that vibe.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

alastor is a big fan of cumming inside, leaving a mark on you

vox is 50/50 but he usually leans towards facials

husk is a creampier but in a more like intimate way.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

i don't imagine alastor having a dirty secret but i 100% think vox has fuck machines and husk is lowkey into bdsm (the more tamer parts)

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

i think in order of most experience to least it would be: vox, husk, alastor. i think alastor would have some experience but he doesn't do that stuff a lot yk, husk has definitely fucked before and knows his way around and i solidly think vox is an absolute sexual deviant and is the most experienced by far.

F= Favorite position

alastor is anything that establishes him a a dominant. thinking like a mating press cause he'd want to see your face but doggy style also works.

vox is a cowgirl enjoyer, or anything where you're on top of him. he likes watching you do the work.

husk probably trends to more vanilla like missionary but i don't think he'd have a favorite. he definitely likes anything where he can see your face though.

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

alastor would be super serious i think, vox is like mostly serious/intense but sometimes he's just in a silly mood and i think husk is always a little bit relaxed about it, unless it's something really intimate then he's being all romantic and shit.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

alastor is well groomed when he anticipates having sex whereas husk is well groomed regardless, and vox i think is the kind to always keep it hairless down there

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

alastor is almost always rough but CAN be a little bit softer. same with vox, both of them are doing it with the intention fo dominating you.

husk is 50/50 can be either tbh. in a relationship he'd prly lean more towards something sappy and intimate.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

i don't see alastor masturbating at all tbh. sorry i know that's such a boring hc but like, i just don't see it happening.

vox 100% does, favorite way to blow off steam if you're not there. remember the fuck machines from earlier? yeah dude prly has a plethora of sex toys.

husk does but not often, like a normal amount. if he's feeling in the mood and you're not there or not in the mood as well he does mind it. he'd do the old man huff thing when undoing his pants tho.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

alastor would be pretty into choking and irgasm denial or like dubious consent. some form of cnc or just something that makes him feel like youre at his mercy. i think vox is in a similar boat but he'd be into the mirror kink or whatever it's called where you have sex infront of a mirror. husk would be into somno and overstim i think

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

alastor would be into privacy, given the fact he's like dominating you he wants the space to do so

vox doesn't care but in his office is where the majority of it would happen i think. he seems the type to rage the fuck out at his desk and need his little doll come make him feel better :(

husk is a bedroom guy but on the off chance the hotel is dead quiet you might be able to convince him into something in the parlor

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

alastor is domination and owning you, vox is a mixture of possessiveness and genuinely wanting to get off, husk is all in for pleasure and pleasing you

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

alastor would never bottom, like ever. it doesn't matter how much you ask that man is never submitting to you

vox i don't think there's much but he's not into being dommed i don't think. it's a very thin line though because like sometimes he'd like to just be a bit mindless and get fucked and pampered more

husk would never do really rough play. anything that involves straight up hurting you is a big no

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

alastor would be a giving guy i think. not that he wouldn't enjoy you giving him head but it's a power thing right, when he goes down on you and you're writhing beneath him? it's heaven. skill wise 7/10

vox is a receiving guy, he loves watching you suck him off. i think he'd go down on you if you asked but it's not his first thought yk. skill wise 4-5/10

husk is a 50/50 again but i think he's more partial to receiving. something about you on your knees and taking care of him like that is so mesmerizing. skill wise 8/10

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

alastor could last for a really long time tbh despite the powerplay it's also mostly about your pleasure to dominate you. he'd be fast pace wise though

vox is about average for how long he lasts, there's somedays he's a little fast and he'd lowkey get embarrassed if you teased him. he's fast pace wise but it depends on how close he is.

husk is average but it also depends on what you're doing. anytime you give him head he's very quick to cum, and he'd such a fan of it tbh. he'd be a wildcard pace wise, really depends what you want him to do.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

alastor doesn't like quickies at all, he likes time to do this shit properly

vox LOVES quickies idk if i need to elaborate more

husk isn't a fan of quickies but occasionally appreciates them.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

alastor is 50/50 if it has anything to do where he has less power then no but if it's just something more he could do then yes!

vox is a cautious yes, but it's very unclear to me whether he'd want to just be an in the moment thing or like discussed before hand. he seems like the kind to randomly pull out a move midsex and gage your reaction

husk i think he leans closer to no, in his opinion the way he's doing things seem great so why complicate it more? but if you really want to try something he will

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

alastor can go quite a lot of rounds I think, like each round is around the same, the only reason he's stopping is if he thinks you physically can't take it anymore

vox can go like 2-4 rounds i think but they definitely get shorter as he goes. you're only making it to round 4 if he's had a rough day

husk is like max 2 id say. second round gets a lot shorter and he REALLY relies on you helping him out for both of you to reach climax.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

alastor and vox yes but alastor could lowkey get possessive for no fucking reason. idk why he just seems the type to be a bit condescending especially if you have sex later.

husk is a no, i think. like if the activity required a toy then sure but he definitely doesn't have toys unless you were adamant about using them he wouldn't suggest it. i think he might get insecure he's not making you feel good enough though :(

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

alastor teases a lot but he's not a fan of when you tease him. if you do any sort of bratty shit he's 100% putting a swift end to it, but he does like the challenge. he seems like he might be into total denial so it's a dangerous game for you

vox teases and doesn't mind being teased but i think he's the kind to get frustrated if you're being a brat in public

husk is SUCH a tease. like you wouldn't really expect it but it's just little things in public with affection while no one is looking. during the actual act he's not one to tease much though

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

alastor grunts fr but like i think that'd be about it. other than little coy comments and some degrading praises he's pretty quiet

vox on the other hand MOANS. if you tease him abt it he will get so fucking mad. but like he's definitely loud asf too.

husk is a groaner but he also moans. he's like a medium level i guess? more on the quiet side, i don't see him getting loud

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)

alastor really likes marking and will do so. like one minute you're just lying in bed, the next you're on his lap as he digs his teeth into your neck.

vox really likes handjobs idk why but he just does. something about watching you jerk him off gets him going

husk likes making out while fucking. like he's the kind to give you the sloppiest of kisses while he ruts into you.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

skipping cause i feel like it's been answered thoroughly, they all have cocks that vary in size and grooming.

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)

alastor has a low sex drive, mostly dependant on your needs. if you hc he's asexual then it's mostly on you to get him going or atleast express interest

vox has a higher sex drive but not crazy. dude mostly just likes to destress and fucking is a fun way to do that.

husk is average. but when he's feeling in the mood he makes it pretty clear.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

alastor doesn't sleep after very often, unless you very specifically ask and he feels like you need him.

vox depending on the circumstances goes to sleep pretty quickly, like he'll do some basic aftercare and if he feels like you're fine he's dozing off.

husk is a sleeper but he'd make sure he stays awake long enough to make sure you're fine. since he's big on cuddling he'd be drifting off, murmuring in your ear and asking if you're okay before he finally goes to sleep.

[thefanficmonster]

Do you do NSFW? If so, may I request a Markiplier NSFW alphabet?

Hi dear! Usually I struggle greatly when writing anything NSFW for RPF but I shall do my best. Baby steps lol Hope you enjoy <3

Pairing: Markiplier x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: !!NSFW content below the cut!!

A= Aftercare (What they're like after the act)

Mark is the absolute sweetest and most attentive lover before, during and after the act.

After he's made sure you're alright, he'd go grab you a bottle of water, a snack and a towel to clean you up. You can bet on a long cuddle sesh after the act, filled with intimacy and romance, periodically interrupted by jokes he'd crack to make you laugh.

B= Body Part (Favorite body part of their own or on their lover)

He's pretty damn proud of his hands. Years of gaming have made them particularly skillful in many ways and he knows how to utilize them just right *wink* *wink*

Oh, and also his back. He's been influenced to love it by you more so than on his own accord but still.

On you, he loves your legs and thighs. Count on him constantly having his hands all over them in both innocent and explicit instances. And when you wrap your legs around his waist....consider him a goner.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Inside, no questions asked.

Before you got to the point of being comfortable enough for that, however, he found just as much pleasure in painting either your chest, thighs or face.

D= Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory)

Nothing helps him excel at a game quite like under-the-desk head while recording. Bonus points if it's a live stream.

E= Experience (do they know what they're doing)

Mark has had decent amount of experience, enough to be versed into how things work textbook-wise. Every skill he exhibits, however, is something he improvised at some point. But don't take that the wrong way - this man knows exactly what he's doing

F= Favorite Position

Mark is simple man and his favorite position reflects that - Doggy style (closely followed by cowgirl)

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

Oh this man is a majore league goof in general and during sex. That's not to say he can't get into character and dawn a serious and attractively intimidating front when the atmosphere of the night calls for it.

He's a perfect balance between goofy and serious, occasionally leaning far left or far right depending on the moment.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

He takes care of his hygiene rather meticulously. He keeps everything neat, trimmed and clean.

I= Intimacy (how are they in the moment)

There's never a shortage of intimacy between you and Mark during the act. Regardless of if the night calls for making love or having rough sex, there's never a lack of intimacy and closeness between you two.

That being said, I'd again say it's perfectly balanced. Whatever the night calls for is how Mark responds - be it slow, romantic lovemaking or rough and dirty sex.

J= Jerk-off (do they masturbate and how often)

He used to do it a lot more frequently before you started dating. Now, nothing can compare to the real thing. He can't find much satisfaction in masturbating but he still turns to it as a resort of release when either of you is away on a trip

K= Kink (kinks they might have)

Dear God, please forgive me for this...

Choking, spanking, hair-pulling, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, light bondage, praising/degrading (depending on what the situation calls for). Feel free to share your thoughts on this topic in the comments

L= Location (where they're down to get it on)

Every single surface in the house is game in Mark's eyes. Especially the kitchen counter and the nicely spacious shower

M= Motivation (what gets them going)

You, in any context you can think of. You don't even need to be dressed provocatively in any way shape or form. This man is just so head over heels for you, he can't help it.

Apart from that, a good ol' rage game will raise his blood pressure just right and he'll proceed to blow off some steam with you. The same works the other way around - when he's high on the success of completing a game and he celebrates with you

N= No (what they're strictly against and wouldn't try)

Anything with violent and hostile connotations that could bring you harm in any way, be it physical or emotional. He loves you more than words can describe and just the thought of hurting you fills him with dread. You both like dabbling into the occasional impact play but nothing more than that, and never without a safe word.

O= Oral (are they more of a giver or receiver)

Mark is a big fan of receiving but he enjoys giving so much more. He does it for his own pleasure just as much as he does it to bring you satisfaction. He loves every aspect of it - your taste, the tangling of your hands in his hair, the sounds you make, the bucking of your hips. It's his own personal high. He could do it for hours if you'd let him.

P= Pace (what's their pace during the act)

Again, the speed setting Mark operates on depends on the atmosphere of the night. On the regular, he likes to take it slow, prolong the experience and uphold this bubble of intimacy around the two of you for as long as he can.

Q= Quickie (are they a fan of quickies)

Nope.

The Devil is into details and so is Mark. And it's difficult to appreciate the details when working with a small time frame. He likes to take his time, worshipping you the way you deserve in the most meticulous and intimate manner.

R= Risk (how risky are they/do they like trying new things)

Oh he loves a good unconventional and borderline public location where there's a chance at getting caught. Although he prefers the comfort of your shared house it doesn't cancel out his love for the thrill of some public fun.

As for trying new things, he's down to try everything at least once - unless it falls in the No criteria I mentioned earlier. All you have to do is bring it up and you can automatically consider him signed up and strapped in, ready to try it.

S= Stamina (how long they last in bed)

The speed may or may not directly relate to how long he lasts. He can get at least two rounds - a solid hour/hour and a half - under his belt before breaking a sweat.

T= Toys (do they own and and are they down to experiment with them)

I have a feeling there is a box, hidden in a dark corner of a closer or under his bed, containing a small collection of sex toys. If you're game to use him, he'd love nothing more than take them out to play.

U= Unfair (are they a tease)

To an infuriating degree. He'd even mock you when you whine, beg or get frustrated with his teasing.

It's music to his ears.

V= Volume (how loud are they during sex)

Mark is vocal but not loud.

He exhibits his satisfaction and pleasure with mainly sighs and groans, all at a pretty low volume. But he's also very expressive during sex - praising/degrading you accordingly or dirty talking you over the edge. All in a whispered or hushed tone that makes it all the hotter.

W= Wild Card

Remember how I said he's not a big fan of masterbating? Well, when he has to resort to it he has a certain way of making it much more pleasurable...

Photos and videos you two have taken during the act or right afterwards in your disheveled states.

It's his personal collection, safely tucked away in a dark hidden corner of his computer memory.

X= X-Ray (what are they packing)

I'm sorry, I can't. I just can't. I've sinned enough tonight LMAOO

Y= Yearning (sex drive level)

Name: Mark

Status: Permanently horny

Z= Zzzz (*yawn*)

I already mentioned a cuddle sesh earlier and I will now add onto it to say that, although he tries his best not to, he does fall asleep rather quickly and deeply. How could he not when he feels so much comfort with his arms wrapped around you. When he falls asleep to the sound of your breathing and heartbeat, it's the most peaceful slumber he's ever had.

[depravitycentral]

Enji Todoroki General Yandere Profile

Yandere! Enji Todoroki x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, power imbalances, financial trapping, mentions of physical/domestic abuse, mentions of non-con, sexist undertones, Enji wants you to be his cute little housewife, mentions of breeding/pregnancy, a few mentions of making sure you eat enough/food, Enji is patronizing whoo boy, he makes you share a toothbrush and yes he's weird about it, this is set in a divergent timeline where Enji and Rei are formally divorced and his relationship with his family is loose and not super tight, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 11K

DARLING PROFILE:

Kind

Enji is, simply, harsh.

His quirk, his mannerisms, his attitude, his everything, really, is a bit rough around the edges, forming a man with only enough self control to get what he wants. He’s lived his whole life bitterly, constantly jealous, constantly wanting, willing to throw everything away in order to achieve his goals.

And once everything starts caving in around him, his family and career both taking unexpected turns, Enji finds himself so, so painfully alone. He doesn’t pretend to delude himself into thinking he’s not deserving of his fate, but this places him into a position where he shoulders the guilt while desperately trying to find any outlet to forget it.

And this is where a darling who is kind comes into play – he needs someone who won’t judge him for his past. He needs someone who doesn’t treat him like scum, who is still polite and empathetic to him and his emotions. A darling who is able to consistently praise him will have him smitten quickly, growing emotionally dependent on hearing their sweet words in order to function, in order to not let the depression and stress get the better of him.

And even once his obsession has formed and he’s deep in the depth of his infatuation, a darling who is just too kind to kick him to the curbside is absolutely essential for him – they must be doting and caring, helping rebuild his shattered confidence and psyche, and with every compliment they dish out, Enji vows that he’ll return the sentiment tenfold, in his own way of course.

(This means buying his darling millions of yen worth of their favorite things, all kinds of wonderful gifts that he hopes will sway them in his favor, that will get them drooling over him and all that he can provide for them.)

Hardworking

Although he’s in a mental state that leaves him much more susceptible to finding a partner once he divorces Rei, Enji is still a picky man. He won’t fall for just anyone – no, they must fit his standard, be acceptable and meet the rather long and detailed checklist he has for those he considers as potential romantic partners.

And near the top of this list is determination. He’s a man motivated by his own goals and is willing to stop at nothing to achieve them – and so, a darling that can at least somewhat match this aspect of his personality is critical.

He has no patience for a darling that gives up easily; he wants someone that’s willing to put in the effort to see it pay off, someone who understands the concept of self-discipline and holding yourself to certain moral standards.

He finds it wildly attractive when someone has strong character, and his interest would immediately be piqued with a darling who brings an attitude of perseverance and hard work into every aspect of their life, be it work, their hobbies, their relationship, and everything in between.

He wants someone who is perhaps not quite as stubborn as him, but is still serious in their goals.

(He hopes that one day, making him happy and pleasing him will be one of these goals – just as pleasing his darling is one of his own. And he’s more than happyto please them in whatever way they so desire. More than happy.)

Motherly

Because he views his darling as the perfect wife, his darling absolutely must possess at least somewhat of a motherly air about them. He likes the idea of having a nurturing partner, if only because he finds it endearing when they care for others.

As a hero he shares this sentiment, and although it may sometimes be overshadowed by his need to become the best, deep down inside he does very much wish to help others – his methodology is just a little more violent, a little more overt.

His darling, by contrast, should prefer a methodology that’s much gentler, something that focuses more on making others feel safe and heard and cared for.

Besides, Enji very much desires to have children with his darling; to build a second family, one that he’ll care for and nourish much better than his first. And so, if his darling is to be a good mother, they must embody these traits.

Besides, although he doesn’t fall for his darling because of his fantasies of making them a mother, once the feelings are formed these daydreams only further his feelings, deepening his obsession because oh, he’d give absolutely anything to see them pregnant with his child, carrying his seed, creating something that symbolizes the love and dedication between them.

And so, his darling needs to be someone who naturally takes care of others – and in return, Enji will take care of them. Just how it should be.

Pushover

This trait is a bit less crucial compared to the others, but it’s still most definitely a positive from Enji’s perspective.

Of course he likes a darling who has strong opinions and stands up for them, but he loves a darling that will let him guide them through any hard decisions, or really any decisions at all.

Although he’s not as outright controlling with his darling, he still very much feels that he wears the pants in the ‘relationship’, and thus he is the one calling the shots.

A darling who is happy to let him take over their life like this is a massive help to him – he doesn’t have to fight for control, nor does he have to argue with them about why certain decisions really should be made by him as the more dominant partner, as the one who knows more about the world, as the man. It’s an outdated view and it’s one that he doesn’t really want to admit out loud, but he enjoys the idea of a partner who will revere him and allow him full control.

He wants to be loved and cherished, and in return for a love like this, he’ll do his best to provide for and take care of his darling in every way he possibly can – so really, if his darling knows what’s best for them, they’ll step back and let him make all the tough decisions.

They’ll nod and smile and agree with whatever he chooses, pressing a kiss against his cheek and telling him how much they trust him, how they know he’d never hurt them, how he only wants what’s best for them.

Just the thought makes something warm swell in his stomach, the level of trust making him feel wanted, needed, a concept so foreign that it almost feels wrong. But oh, how he likes it.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Controlling

But in a very, very strange way – a lot of what fuels Enji’s obsession is this desperate, innate need to right his wrongs. He’s very, very aware of how thoroughly he ruined his family, how horribly he treated Rei, how he was a poor excuse of a father and husband, and he sees his love with you as almost being his second try. With you, he can do all the things he should have done with Rei and his children – he should have been sweet and loving, a present father that cared about each of his children equally. He should have been a doting husband, spoiling his wife and making her feel loved and desired.

But he didn’t, and although Rei has long since divorced him, Enji finds himself feeling lonely, incomplete, restless to try again, to properly provide for a sweet little thing he can call his own. And this is where you come in – and from the moment he realizes his feelings for you are more than a simple attraction, he dives in head-first.

He decides he'll approach everything with you in a way as opposite from his previous marriage as possible – he's all grand, romantic gestures, always showing up with a bouquet of flowers in hand and just the slightest pink tint on his scarred cheeks.

The grand, romantic gestures are, of course, merely things he’s seen in rom-coms; the women always look happy when the love interest swoops in with flowers and gifts and pretty clothing, the beaming smile and large hug the man gets as a reward seeming very, very appealing to Enji, despite his rigid exterior.

(Just the thought of you hugging him has his heart racing – it’s something so intimate, so entirely new that it makes every nerve in his body stand on edge, a shiver running up his spine as he imagines the way your body would feel pressed against his, how you’d sigh and sink further against him, how you’d squeeze him and god, the view he’d get when he looks down to see your body pressed so tightly against him that not even a breath of air could separate you -)

He’s scouring through women’s magazines, burying his nose in the glossy pages and searching for ideas and clues as to what women enjoy as courting gifts.

(He has to scoff under his breath every time he sees a new dieting tip or regiment, internally frowning and worrying that you’re seeing these ads and potentially obsessing over your weight. The last thing he’d want is for you to be unhappy with your body – certainly not when he’s so very happy with it. Not to mention the nutritionally heinous foods the magazine recommends – he’d sooner have you eat raw paper than follow this ludicrous advice.)

He’s even caving and very, very awkwardly asking his female sidekicks and employees at his agency about their tips on how to seduce a woman. He struggles to make eye contact with them when he asks, his imposing figure almost reminding them of a shy, nervous teenage boy with the way he’s so earnest about his question, his eyes lighting up when they mention an idea he hasn’t tried yet, pressing them for details and specifics and you must tell me what to say to her – how does one follow up gifting a puppy?

It would be sweet, really, how devoted he is to making sure that you’re absolutely spoiled, that you get a whole variety of lavish gifts designed to sweep you off your feet. It would be wonderful, really, except that Enji has never understood the concept of being too much – which is how everything will start to feel very, very early on in this process.

 It was nice at first to receive a fresh bouquet of roses every morning at your desk with a handwritten card attached. (Written in impeccable handwriting, the cursive letters looping and elegant as they spell out short, simple, sweet messages signed with a capital E at the bottom, reading please make sure to eat enough today and that skirt looks lovely on you.)

 It was nice at first, but after the second week of daily bouquets and even a few finding their way to the doorstep of your apartment, the sight of the pretty red flowers makes a sinking feeling swirl in your gut.

(Enji notices this, dismayed and frustrated by your lack of a positive response, and decides to double down and just gift you bigger flowers, because maybe your lack of joy at receiving the bouquets is because they aren’t big enough, aren’t grandiose enough, aren’t good enough.)

It was nice to get the cute, small stuffed bunny on your desk one morning, and you’d even grown so fond of the little thing that you perched it on the edge of your desk, assuming it was a one-time gift. But it wasn’t – the stuffed animals kept coming, getting bigger and more detailed and much, much more expensive, you’re sure.

(Enji is careful to remove each and every price tag on every gift he sends you, simply because he doesn’t want you to feel that you owe him financially, nor does he want you to be swayed into accepting him as your partner by mere economic standing – that’s an asset that you’ll come to know, of course, but he’d rather lure you in via more traditional ways. It doesn’t exactly stay secret, though, because once the necklace with a delicate array of at least five diamonds in it arrives at your front door, your secret admirer’s wealth becomes very, very difficult to hide.)

He’s gifting you jewelry with more precious jewels and gold and silver than you could possibly wear, and outfitting your closet with all kinds of dresses and skirts out of materials and cuts you could never hope to afford for yourself.

(And, of course, they’re all tailored to fit you perfectly – how Enji managed to get your exact sizes is still a question that haunts you, one that makes you scared to upon the nicely wrapped boxes that you find in excess outside your front door.)

It’s all just too damn much – Enji is suffocating with his attempts to woo you, his every gift and gesture leaving you feeling uncomfortable. What he’s trying to do is very, very obvious – and it feels wrong. He’s the number one hero, a busy man with much more important things to be doing – so why is he going after you? And why with such ferocity?

His forwardness will scare you off, driving you to avoid him and grow suspicious of his motives, and Enji does not like this development. This wasn’t supposed to happen – you’re supposed to want him, to be seduced by all of his efforts, to be swept off your feet and swooned by his gifts and words (delivered with the grace of a garbage truck, of course, but the sentiment is there – even if looking at your pretty face distracts him, all the words leaving his head and making him stand there gaping like a fool).

 Enji doesn’t like it, and so he presses harder, stepping up the frequency and volume of his gifts, only effectively pushing you further and further away from him as you grow more uneased and unsettled. And if you were to confront him about it?

Well, this is where his controlling tendencies come into play – denying who he naturally is can only last for so long, and despite being a man with superb self-restraint, the moment that Enji feels you’re slipping from his fingers he’s morphing back into the man that commands your every move.

Suddenly he’s no longer presenting you with the newest shampoo you’ve been talking about (it’s salon grade, the best stuff out there, and much too expensive, but not for Enji – nothing is too expensive for him when it’s for you) but rather letting this expression wash over his face, one that you’ve never seen before.

It’s cold, remarkably so; his lips are pressed tightly together, his brows perfectly straight, those eyes lifeless as he tells you to stop fighting, go inside and change into the green dress I gave you last week. We’re going for dinner, and you’ll order the house salad and a slice of chocolate cake for dessert. Do you understand me?

 It’s weird and unexpected and scary, and it’ll have you immediately stuttering out a yes and scurrying inside, too frightened to disobey. And really, while Enji winces every time he does this, eventually he finds himself trying to justify it as simply ensuring your relationship will last.

Obviously it’s not good that he has to force you into these small, minor, inconsequential things (like going on a date with him or letting him accompany you home afterwards), but this is different from with Rei – you want this, right? You’re just too shy to tell him how flattered you are about all the attention he’s giving you.

You’re just playing coy, acting on your age-old feminine instincts to make men chase after you, to be demure and make your partner work for your affection and love. And eventually, Enji will convince himself that this is different, he’s wooing you and getting you into a relationship with him willingly – you want him.

You practically love him already – things are going well. They’re successful.

They have to be.

And so, while Enji doesn’t mean to be controlling, the end results is that although he plays the nice guy that spoils you and gives you anything your heart desires, at the end of the day he is the one in charge, and he is the one dictating your relationship.

And really, what can you do to stop him? He’s strong, both physically and with the general population – one word from him and you’d be hunted for like a madman, ostracized from the community, brought back to him like a pup to its owner.

You belong with him, and it’s his job to make you see that – even if you want to remain blind.

Possessive

Enji Todoroki doesn’t share. Once he decides that he wants you, you become unequivocally his.

Sure, he wants to do things a bit differently with you and get you to harbor more loving feelings towards him, but from the moment his infatuation forms you don’t really have a choice in the matter.

 You can pretend like you do, if it makes you feel better (and it will, because at least you can pretend that you have even an ounce of control in the relationship, that you aren’t just some adorable little thing he’s decided he wants hanging off his arm and warming his bed), but at the end of the day you’re subject to Enji’s whims.

And although Enji lets you harbor this fantasy of your relationship being truly consensual, the moment something occurs that threatens it, his true colors are shown. Namely, when he thinks your attention is veering away from him, his jealousy and anger become difficult to keep in check, his quirk acting up and letting off small sparks and flames all along his body. His fists clench and his jaw tightens when he sees another man around you, and although he tries to rationalize that the man likely doesn’t want anything to do with you, just simply being in your presence is enough to make Enji suspicious.

Even if the man isn’t talking to you or acknowledging you in any way, he’s anxious – he’s scared that something about this man will attract you, that you’ll somehow find him better than Enji.

Maybe the man is friendlier – Enji’s aware that he isn’t exactly the most approachable person on the planet.

Maybe he's funnier – Enji knows he can’t crack a joke to save his life.

Maybe he’s a better conversationalist – less formalities and awkwardness, able to get you laughing so hard you snort.

It makes Enji’s skin crawl, his knuckles turning white from how hard he’s fisting his hands, and before long he will intervene. He’ll grab you as gently as he can on the elbow, guiding you carefully but quickly away to the other side of the room and physically maneuvering so that his body is blocking your sight of the man – and more importantly, blocking his sight of you.

He’ll try to talk with you, trying to distract you and get your mind off of the other man, all in an effort to get your attention back on him. He’s reminding you that you have him, that you don’t need some other man, that you already have one who’s capable of providing for you and caring for you as you deserve.

Frankly, he discovers just how deeply his feelings for you run in a situation where jealousy gets the best of him – you’d been approached at a small gathering by a man from another agency who was clearly hitting on you. He was leaning in close, smiling with a smarmy smirk and nursing on his cocktail like a lifeline.

Enji had noticed the two of you out of the corner of his eye, and immediately he’d gone stiff. He couldn’t stop staring at the way the man kept getting gradually closer to you, how he kept leaning in further, how his hand slid from his pocket to your shoulder, then your arm, down to your hand and oh, oh god, it looks like he’s bringing it down to your waist –

Enji had been by your side in mere moments, his gaze card and harsh as he’d stepped in front of you, making some poorly toned excuse about needing to speak with you for a moment, before unceremoniously dragging you away from the stupefied man.

From that day, Enji absolutely refuses to allow anyone close to you. And really, can he be blamed? After all, he fell for you, so why wouldn’t anyone else? You’re beautiful and caring, smart and dignified, and if he can see your potential as a lovely, perfect little wife, surely others can too.

And so, Enji ramps up his controlling tendencies the more he’s presented with situations where the green-eyed monster accompanies him. And this control takes its main form through financials – that is, while Enji originally didn’t want to attract you to him via his material wealth, he decides it’s a necessary evil in order to have you staying by his side only.

He starts ‘forgetting’ to peel off the price tags of the gifts he gives you, pretending not to notice how your eyes practically bug out of your head when you unbox the pink pendant he’d bought for you.

He starts inviting you out for lunches and dinners more often, ordering for you and choosing the most expensive items off the menu despite your numerous pleas that you’ll opt for something – anything – cheaper.

(It’s frustrating, too, because as angry as you want to be at him for ordering for you, he always chooses something you end up liking – of course it’s because he’s done extensive research and stalking, finding out your favorite foods and what flavors you dislike, but it all seems like one large, awfully strange coincidence to you.)

Exerting financial control over you keeps you complacent, because the guilt you’ll feel at how much money he’s sinking into you will have you following his every word, even if it his commands are a little strange and off-putting – like spending less time with any male friends (or really any friends for that matter) or slipping the small photograph of him into your purse (it’s weird and you do so hesitantly, making sure the polaroid is at the bottom of the bag – and trying to ignore the way his muscles are oh-so fucking defined in the tight black shirt he’s sporting in the photograph).

It’s all just a big ploy to keep you from running off with some other man – but really, if you somehow did manage to do that, Enji won’t be particularly merciful. He will be cornering the man as he leaves your apartment and he will be holding him by the neck against the cold concrete wall, threatening him to leave you alone or experience the rather unpleasant sensation of burning alive.

It’s not particularly heroic, but Enji doesn’t care – he can’t, not when the threat of you leaving him for another man is very much present and real. It’s too scary, too much for him to handle – it would mean you rejecting him, his second fuck-up in love, and the loss of someone who fits absolutely every one of his desires in a woman.

You’re too perfect for him to lose – so instead, he’ll own you.

Dependent

He will never admit it, but there’s this part of Enji that grows stronger day by day, every time he sees your face, that tells him in the most raw, real way that he absolutely needs you.

He’s essentially lost what he had of his family, and with the sharp uptake in responsibility as the new number one hero, the new symbol of modern peace, Enji finds himself turning to you in his time of need, in his more vulnerable moments.

Because really, though his exterior is tough and jaded, he’s only human – he too needs someone to love, someone to hold and latch onto, and latch he does. You’re his, and he expects you to understand that even if he doesn’t verbalize it.

He cherishes your very existence, each and every thing you do, finding you to be remarkably weak yet remarkably endearing, your inability to defend yourself simultaneously adorable and frustrating. He needs you to realize that you’re his everything; his whole reason for living now, even if he doesn’t give you many clues into this.

He isn’t the best at expressing his emotions, and although the love and desperation he feels for you is constantly overwhelming him, overflowing from his chest and making him dizzy, he doesn’t articulate just how deeply these feelings run.

Of course he’ll tell you how you’re beautiful, or that you’re my responsibility to protect, but he’ll also say significantly less romantic things like how you belong to him, how he's never letting you out that front door, how he’ll never let those disgusting, filthy villains touch something as perfect as you.

He thinks it’s sweet and exactly what you want to hear, but it’s not – it’s scary and strange and weird, but these are your biggest clues as to his dependence on you.He won’t tell you, but his expectations for you are honestly monumentally high; he wants you to be his perfect little wife, everything that Rei wasn’t, and this includes giving you every ounce of his love.

He wants you to be diligently cooking him hearty meals, keeping the house tidy and clean for the two of you, to be massaging his shoulders while he relaxes from a stressful day at work. (Hell, he even wants you to wear cute little aprons, collars with his name stitched onto them, those maternity/breast feeding bras before you’re even pregnant…)

He wants a domestic fantasy with you, and this extends to other, more vulnerable things as well. He expects you to embrace him as he walks through the door everyday returning home, to give him a light peck on the cheek and ask about his day, to let him hug you from behind and kiss your neck as you slave away over the stove.

He never really got the chance to do such loving things with Rei (not that he particularly wanted to), and as a result he honestly feels like he’s having to make up time, that he needs to be taking every single ounce of affection and love you can possibly give him, and he’ll feel no guilt at all.

He won’t outright ask you to cuddle him, but when he sits on the large, overstuffed leather couch and stares at you expectantly, you’ll quickly learn to run over to him and snuggle up into his side, to bury your face into his chest and wrap your arms and legs around him even if his body heat cooks you alive.

He won’t ever explicitly ask you to give him those fluttery, soft morning kisses he’s seen all the time in terrible corny rom-coms he religiously watched for inspiration while trying to court you, but the moment you smile sleepily at him and press a kiss against his lips while you holds you close in the morning glow?

God, it’s in those moments that he wants to give you absolutely everything he has – every part of his body, soul and heart, every single cent he owns, every piece of fame and fortune he’s ever amassed.

Enji just wants to please you, and although he comes off as an odd mix of demanding yet generous, terrifying yet strangely awkward, inside his heart is hammering against his ribcage every time you so much as smile at him, every time you so much as look at him. In the hazy afterglow of a round of passionate morning sex (in which you’ve realized that fighting will get you nowhere – it’ll only earn you an Enji that’s more frantic and desperate to get you moaning and crying out his name), when he latches onto your smaller, exhausted and sweaty body, pressing you as tightly against him as possible, sometimes his demeanor will crack.

He’ll lean down to deeply inhale the scent of your hair, to watch the way your chest rises and falls, and he’ll whisper in the softest of voices that he loves you, you’re the light of his world. He doesn’t know what he’d do without you, but Enji is hellbent on never finding out – after all, there is no chance of escape with him, and he’s sure you’ll learn your place soon.

After all, pretty, submissive girls like you always do.

DEALING WITH RIVALS: 

Enji is, regrettably, terrible at hiding his jealousy.

He’s always been in a constant state of envy, whether it was vying for the top spot in the heroing world against All Might, desiring the perfect offspring in order to have the Todoroki name and himself live on, and countless other examples. He’s prideful and so fucking jealous of everyone around him, and this is only heightened when it comes to you – his possessiveness over you is nothing to sneeze at, and the minute he feels that your attention is threatened, that you could possibly be yearning for another?

He’s wasting no time stepping in, mercilessly shutting down each and every opportunity you could possibly have of being with anyone other than himself.

As much as he’s loathe to admit it, his jealousy and possessiveness stems from a place of insecurity; he’s aware that he’s by no means the perfect partner, and he rationally knows that you could do much, much better than him.

And so, as a sort of panic-induced response, Enji decides that you simply aren’t allowed to interact with any other men – this way, you aren’t presented with the opportunity to even let the feelings form. And he’s diligent with this theory, too – he’s always standing near you, acting as your shadow with watchful, hawk-like eyes trained on your figure.

He’s never been the best at reading people, but he’s able to tell from miles away when someone approaches you with intentions that are less than innocent, and immediately his lips are thinning, his brows furrowing, his entire body temperature raising by five degrees because you’re his, and this piece of scum disguised as a man obviously doesn’t realize this.

He’s your guardian angel in many ways (though really, he takes the guardian portion much too far – even men who have no romantic intentions with you are viewed as potential threats, shooed away with a vengeance that will make them too afraid to even think about you without imagining themselves engulfed in flames), though at times it will make you feel more than a little patronized.

It’s as if he doesn’t trust you – you don’t really have a relationship, at least in your eyes, but you know the number one hero wants something more than friendship with you. And so, you do your best to avoid evoking his anger and wrath by not romantically involving yourself with another man – and yet that’s not enough for Enji.

It can’t be, simply because as pretty and sweet and smart as you may be, Enji will always know better. It’s a controlling tendency and a mildly sexist view, but he thinks of you as his doting, loving housewife-to-be, and it’s the man’s job to make these sorts of decisions.

You’re just too sweet and outgoing for your own good – you’ll get mixed up in all sorts of trouble if you’re not careful, and lucky little you has someone like Enji to watch out for you and make sure your pretty head has nothing to worry about. And so, Enji sticks to you like glue, warding off potential suitors with grueling stares and a presence and reputation too strong to ignore.

Enji’s day had been long, and one of those days that made him seriously question his abilities as a hero. A villain had managed to trick him, and although Enji had of course eventually arrested the perpetrator, his deception had led to a lot of wasted time and more damage to surrounding buildings than was acceptable.

His head was pounding, his body still feeling overly hot from all of the fighting, and though not normal, he’d decided he was done for the day and left the rest of the agency’s calls to his sidekicks. Leaving early had felt almost freeing in a way, the world looking a bit different with all this extra time – walking down the sidewalk, Enji scanned the windows of each shop he passed.

As per usual, you’d been on his mind all day – flashes of your face sitting just behind his eyelids, your name just a hair away on his tongue, the feeling of your phantom touch sending shivers down his spine. It was irritating, distracting, heavenly, and with each window he passed, he kept an eye out for anything you might like.

He’d gotten you a pretty tea cup set yesterday, and although you’d been hesitant and visibly uncomfortable at receiving such a gift (the set was very, very obviously expensive, the marbled china too perfect and pristine to have costed anything less than a year’s worth of your salary), Enji was eager to gift you something that would be received better today.

Streets passed by, nothing quite suiting his vision for what you deserved – he’d need something more subtle today, something simple and sweet and something he knows you like – The confectionary is small, with swirling black letters over a baby pink banner spelling out the name of the store. The windows are lined with all sorts of chocolates and candies, all wrapped up in pretty, ornate packaging that makes Enji immediately pick up his pace, practically storming into the small shop.

It smells like vanilla and sugar as the door shuts behind him, and although it makes him wince, he knows you’d love it. Shelves nearly as tall as him line the shop in narrow rows, displaying all sorts of sweets that he’s never heard of before – caramels, gumdrops, chocolates, lollipops, anything and everything under the sun.

He’s only been in the store for roughly five minutes, staring at a collection of truffles with furrowed brows and a downward curl of his lip when he hears a small laugh over the gentle, happy classical music playing quietly over the speakers. Immediately he’s perking up – the laugh sounds familiar; the lilt of it, the tonality, the soft intake of breath right after it stops.

His lips part, eyes going wide, and before he can even really control himself he’s rushing towards the source of the noise, his entire face growing warm when he sees you – you’re at the register, a few candies sitting on the wooden slab, your purse in hand as you fish for presumably your wallet.

You look gorgeous today – you’re wearing a shirt he’s never seen before and your favorite pair of jeans (the ones that make your ass look so, so very perfect – perfect to squeeze at, to grope and touch and smack and press himself against…), and although he’s briefly disappointed that you aren’t wearing an item of clothing that he’d gifted you, he notices the clerk all too soon.

The clerk – Hyoshi, his nametag says – is smiling at you. He’s all teeth, a grin that makes the hairs on the back of Enji’s neck stand up, his nostrils flaring because you’d been laughing, and it must be this man’s doing. This man, who’s visibly weak even under the ridiculous confectionary uniform he’s sporting – arms that couldn’t hope to lift even a fraction of what Enji can, a chest that isn’t ruggedly defined like the hero’s, and a stature that’s frankly pathetic compared to the frame of the redheaded man behind you.

Enji’s angry, and as the man opens his mouth to presumably say something else (potentially something that’ll make you laugh again), his words die on his tongue as he glances behind you to see the behemoth of a man who’s quite literally acting as your shadow.

His eyes widen and immediately he’s stuttering out a w-welcome in, Endeavor! At that, your shoulders go stiff, your mouth parting into an adorable little ‘o’ that Enji can practically see in his head, and you slowly turn around.

Oh, hello Endeavor, aren’t you normally on patrol right now?

Enji’s jaw works, and although a small part of him is pleasantly surprised that you’d remembered his patrol shift, your words only serve to further frustrate him. You knew it was his time on the clock – and yet, you’d still ventured out into the heart of downtown, completely on your own, defenseless except for the measly, very sad pepper spray you keep in that worn purse of yours – both of which he keeps pleading with you to let him replace.

(He’ll get you new pepper spray and a taser and a pocketknife, just because he knows how dangerous these streets can be, and with your pretty face and your pretty body he’s sure villains would be lining out the door to get a taste of you. And of course, the new bag – he’s bought you plenty, in a wide variety of styles and colors, each gift getting more and more desperate to be the one you finally deem as being good enough to use, but alas.)

Enji doesn’t even bother with a greeting, instead stepping up to the counter, slamming down his credit card and stepping in front of you. I’ll be paying for her sweets. His voice is cold, firm, and sends the clerk into a scurry to process the transaction, meanwhile you’re staring in mild shock from behind the hero.

Of course you’re not surprised – how can you be, when he insists on spoiling you in every possible way? And yet the raw animosity he’s radiating right now can’t be ignored – you get the feeling as if you’re somehow in trouble, though you can’t figure out what for. As soon as the card reader beeps, Enji’s scooping up the card and your sweets, his thick fingers wrapping around your wrist just barely too tightly and marching out the door, telling the clerk over his shoulder to keep the receipt.

It takes every bone in his body to not turn back around and swing at the man behind the counter, his eyes shutting tightly in concentration as he tells himself that it’s not worth it, the media will find out, your reputation will be damaged. But as his eyes peel open and he realizes the way you’re squirming in his grip, he only sighs and releases you, those teal eyes of his appraising you with a frown.

You’re feeling guilty again, unsure of yourself as you gently rub your wrist, and for a moment Enji feels regret – did he hurt you? He hadn’t meant to, he’d just been angry and it was already hard enough to not harm the man who’d made you laugh, and surely you’d understand that he didn’t mean to –

You break the silence before he can voice his concerns, clearing your throat and thanking him in a meek voice. Enji merely nods, a small grunt your only response as he begins walking again, your sweets – and your purse – firmly in his hands, just so that you won’t have to carry them.

When you don’t immediately follow him, Enji pauses, looking back over his shoulder with a brow cocked.

What? Follow me – we have dinner reservations this evening, at that new seafood restaurant by the harbor. Fuyumi tells me it’s quite good; order the crab legs and the caviar.

There’s no room for disagreement in his tone, and for a moment you just blankly gape at him, the situation too strange for you to really process.

But all too soon his eyes are narrowing, and you’re practically tripping over your feet to follow him, keeping your gaze cast downwards as Enji’s hand rests on the small of your back, guiding you even though there’s not a civilian in sight on the desolated sidewalk he leads you down.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Honestly, Enji is complicated as a yandere; there’s a part of him that knows that there are aspects of his relationship with you that mirror that of his previous marriage. He knows that although you may not be treated as terribly (and that you have more purpose to him than simply an incubator), you’re still trapped, essentially a slave to his will.

And yet, as time passes and his dependence on you grows stronger, he can’t help but justify his actions, deciding that yes, you may be stuck with him, but at least he spoils you rotten with your favorite foods, expensive clothing and jewels, an unlimited supply for each and every hobby you may have. He may have you trapped between a rock and a hard place in terms of leaving him, but at least he genuinely loves you - he aches to spend time with you, to hold you in his arms, to feel your heartbeat against his ear, your lips against his, your body writhing below his.

He’s convinced himself that this time is different, that you’re different, and as such he eventually decides that it’s really in both your best interests to just relocate you, to get you officially by his side. It’s really paranoia that drives this decision – he’s a working hero and a man with many, many enemies, and so it’s really the only option that keeps you safe.

Stealing you away into his private home – he’s the sole inhabitant, aside from a cleaner or two, since moving out of the Todoroki household – is the best option for a multitude of different reasons. You’re safer this way – the state-of-the-art security systems he’s installed around the estate are the best money can pay for, able to detect intruders and any suspicious activity in the blink of an eye. Enemies don’t have much of a chance of getting inside, and even if they had managed to, Enji will be right there to burn them to a crisp for even daring to get close to his beloved.

And even aside from outside threats, keeping you trapped at home will allow him to keep an eye on you and make sure that you don’t accidentally hurt yourself – you’re ridiculously clumsy to him, your every action having him hold his breath slightly in anticipation, in fear that you’ll somehow trip or fall or bruise your pretty skin. Plus, this way he’ll know that you’re eating healthily and in the right quantities, that you’re getting proper exercise, that you’re relaxing as you should, that you’re spending adequate amounts of time in the interior courtyard he’d prepared in preparation for you.

(It’s beautiful, as loathe as you are to admit it – all kinds of flowers bloom along the walkways, bamboo and tall grasses and trees growing in neat lines and providing shade for the flowerbeds on hot summer days. There’s even a small stream flowing through it, the gentle trickling noise almost enough to cancel out the painful silence that exists between you and Enji when he decides to join you for your scheduled garden time in the afternoons – uninvited, as always, and yet still unable to sense how desperately you wish you’d get these times alone to yourself.)

Aside from your safety, keeping you in his home helps feeds into his domestic fantasies of the two of you – you’re so very precious to him, and from nearly the beginning of his obsession with you, he’s always viewed you as the perfect wife – specifically, the perfect housewife.

He’s a traditional man, believing in traditional gender roles, and although he doesn’t view you as being less-than based upon your status as a woman, he does expect certain things from you. He’s the breadwinner, the strong, capable one who provides you with a roof over your head, food, and any gift under the sun the moment you make even the slightest inclination of wanting it.

And in return, you’re to be his caring, nurturing wife – the one who keeps the house neat and tidy, a room dedicated to only cleaning supplies that you get always stay stocked and ready for you, should you become inspired and wish to fulfill this domestic fantasy of his. The cleaning products are all diluted down to a level that wouldn’t be dangerous if you were to ingest them – you’d get sick, surely, but it’s nothing a home-trip from a doctor who’s been sworn to secrecy can’t handle.

There’s also, unfortunately, a drawer within the room that a particularly bored you had one day opened only to immediately slam it shut. Dozens of cleaning outfits sat neatly folded in the drawer, the black and white getups looking much too tight and much too short. A few weeks later you’d returned to the drawer, bored out of your mind while Enji was away at work, peeling one out with careful and trembling fingers. And of course, to no one’s surprise, the outfit fit like a fucking glove – hugging your curves and accentuating them, the skirt full and flouncy and very easy to flip up, the bustline practically choking your breasts with how tightly the black cotton pressed them together. You’d changed out of it shortly after, the rather disturbing and shameful fleeting question of whether this was the type of thing Enji liked making you too disgusted, guilty, and bashful to really consider.

In his idealized domestic world, you’d cook for him, too, but it takes a very long time for him to trust you enough to not purposefully burn or cut yourself in the kitchen. He has daydreams about coming home from a hectic work day to see you standing over the stove in a cute apron, humming some song and lighting up when you hear the door open and close, his announcement of being home making you practically bounce on your heels.

He wants to have you cook for him, to see you slave in the kitchen putting every ounce of your concentration and time into making him a meal you know he’ll enjoy, but that fantasy has to wait for the time being – just until he thinks you’ve finally lost that rebellious streak of yours, just until you finally come to realize that you belong by Enji’s side.

And so, in the meantime he’ll have you make him small things that hold little potential for you to hurt yourself with – simple sandwiches with pre-sliced ingredients, so that you won’t cut yourself chopping tomatoes or slicing bread. He'll have you prepare a sandwich for him and one for yourself, too, ordering you to sit down at the dining table with him and share a meal – though the conversation is hard to come by, and each attempt he makes at starting it is only met with single word answers from you.

(Another domestic fantasy he harbors but would never tell you about is to have you sitting with him at the table, looking at him with those pretty eyes and your voice dropping to a sultry volume, your chopsticks bringing the food you diligently and loving prepared for him up to his lips, your tone teasing as you tell him to open wide! He’d keep eye contact the whole time he chews, never once breaking it as he tells you in that low, gruff voice of his that it’s perfectly done, the seasoning is impeccable. He wants you to be bashful, to smile and hide it with your hand, your lashes fluttering as you glance at him then back to the food again, too shy to say much but your body language showing just how much his praise effects you, just how good it feels to be the center of his attention, the apple of his eye, his absolute everything.)

He wants you to be his sweet housewife, and although he won’t force you into any of the work, it’s extremely obvious what he wants of you – he’s always telling you about when you get adjusted, how you’ll be more open to fulfilling your role.

When you’re more adjusted, you’ll be happy to iron his clothes; perhaps you’ll spritz a bit of the perfume he buys you onto his shirts, just as a reminder of you during his long days.

(As if he needs a reminder – certainly not, when you’re on his mind nearly every minute of the day.)

When you’re more adjusted, you’ll be pleased to see the positive pregnancy test in your trembling hands, your voice riddled with joy as you announce the good news to him, watching him drop the phone and keys in his hand and instead hoist you into the air, spinning you with a grin on his face so bright it nearly blinds you, concluded with a passionate kiss and a few tears on his cheeks because he just can’t fucking wait to have you as the mother of his child.

It’s all this talk of ‘when this’ and ‘when that’, but the strange thing about Enji as a captor is that he’s incredibly patient with seeing these fantasies come to fruition – sure, he may be forcing you into being a housewife just as he did with Rei, but this is different – you get a choice about some of it, unlike her. You don’t have to do the dishes, but you can if you’d like. You don’t have to bear his children, but you can if you’d like.

(And frankly, it’ll be hard not to – once your need for human contact and your strange, mixed feelings for him grow, you’ll eventually give into his requests for intimacy, and once the floodgates are open, you will end up pregnant from the sheer frequency and volume at which he pumps you full of his cum.)

All that being said, life as Enji’s captive will honestly not be too terrible – he’s still following you around the house like a shadow, but he’ll let you sleep in your own bed at the start, let you have your own bedroom and bathroom, and he won’t even force you into spending time with him at the beginning.

Because really, as tortuous and painful as keeping you away from him is, he repeats the mantra over and over in his head that eventually it’ll be worth it – eventually you’ll see things his way, and eventually you’ll come to see just how deeply his feelings for you run. You’ll realize that he’s only ever loved you, that he cares for you more than any other man possibly could, that he only has your best interests at heart – that’s why he always swung by your apartment at the end of his patrols, peering in at you through your windows, just to make sure you were safe and sound.

That’s why he kidnapped you, to ensure your safety and keep you in the arms of the only man truly capable of providing for you, just as you deserve.

That’s why he’ll never let you escape him, no matter how you beg and plead for your freedom – you don’t understand the outside world like he does. You think you do, but each villain he arrests is a nail in the coffin of your freedom – you have no fucking clue how dangerous the world is, and Enji isn’t hesitant to remind you of this.

You’re unhappy with him? Well, your options are here, in his warm house where he’s willing to give you every ounce of his attention, love, and touch, or out in the big, scary world where women like you are easy targets for men who love destroying easy targets.

So really, you’re in the best hands with Enji – he knows how to take care of you, and he’ll spoil you with every possible treasure you could want. What’s not to be happy about?

PUNISHMENTS:

As a general rule, Enji doesn’t ‘do’ punishments. Because he views his relationship with you as his second try at finding a companion, there is no part of him that actively desires to hurt you. He loves you, in some sick, twisted way that’s much too obsessive and desperate to ever be considered healthy, but it’s still love nonetheless.

And as such, Enji does genuinely want your relationship to be as wholesome and sweet as possible; he wants you to want him, to actively choose to spend your time with him, to want to be in his presence every moment of every day. He wants everything to be as perfect as possible – the idealized life, a life where he’s the number one hero coming home to his lovely wife who cherishes him and he cherishes in return.

And so, when you do something that doesn’t quite line up with this fantasy, Enji is understandably upset. Why can’t you just accept that this is your reality now? Why do you insist on fighting him, even when you know you won’t win? How could you?

He’s Enji Todoroki, Endeavor the Flame Hero, and you’re just you. You’re pretty, of course, and smart and sweet and caring, but you’re still just you. There’s nothing you can do against someone like him – which is why Enji is able to excuse your poor behavior most of the time.

He understands; it’s difficult to accept that you’re weak and powerless, and he understands that when you lash out and act out, you’re just expressing frustration and fear at being taken care of so wholly and completely by someone so much stronger than you. It must be scary, after all – Enji can be so intimidating and he knows it, so he’ll try his absolute best to calm down anytime his anger starts to flare.

The last thing he wants to do is harm you, and he wants everything in your relationship to be as different as possible from that with Rei – and hurting you in any way would too closely resemble his previous marriage, ruining the beautiful illusion he can live under with you.

And so, most of the time Enji is able to grit his teeth and shut his eyes, letting the anger subside by telling himself about all the wonderful things about you – things that always get him feeling calmer, that make the buzzing sensation in his head and the suffocating feeling of anger dissipate. Nine times out of ten, he’s able to calm himself down this way – and if that’s not enough, normally exiting the room and getting a breath of fresh air is enough. He’ll tell himself that he absolutely cannot fall into the same habits he did with Rei – you’re different, you’re special, and he’ll calm himself down as often as he needs to in order to avoid being seen by you as the big, scary man who will hurt you if you disobey him.

Thus, getting Enji angry enough to the point where he can’t simply calm himself down is actually quite difficult – generally, this involves you hurting yourself. Most other things he can twist into seeming not so bad, rather just being you not having adjusted to life as his woman quite yet. He can write off your escape attempts as you still clinging to this ludicrous sense of independence you seem so hellbent on keeping.

Attempts to harm him can be discarded as your misplaced sense of anger at your situation, because although in your heart of hearts he’s sure you’re happy to be in your natural familial setting (as the wife of a strong, capable man of course), you’ve confused yourself by trying to reject something that’s just so right.

Of course these events don’t make him happy, but they’re able to be disregarded – but when your blood is drawn by your own accord, even Enji can���t pretend this is something else. This is you purposefully trying to injure yourself, purposefully trying to show him that you aren’t happy, that you don’t want this – an idea that makes him panic, that sends his fists clenching, that gets him pacing and his mind racing as he tries to figure out how to set you straight without harming you. And so, Enji eventually decides that after he cleans up your injury, rather than simply hitting you

and physically showing you that he won’t stand for this sort of misbehavior, he has to be more restrictive with you. He won’t be so lenient for the days following your bad behavior – you won’t be so spoiled, your rights won’t be so freely handed to you.

You must understand that Enji is charge, and that he’s being generous and loving and kind by allowing you such free reign around your shared home. Really, he doesn’t need to be so generous – and he’ll teach you that an angry Enji is much, much worse than the normal doting, lovesick Enji you’re used to.

Enji is frozen as he opens the front door. He’d come home a bit early from running some errands, the groceries in his hand dropping onto the hardwood floors below him. His jaw is dropped a bit, the sight of your bright red blood staining your forearm making a wave of sickness wash over him.

Who did this?

Who could’ve hurt you like this? There’d been no security alerts while he was gone, and there was absolutely no way that you’d left the interior of this house in the two hours he was gone. In the next breath he’s rushing forward into the kitchen, by your side before you can even blink, paying no mind to the way you gasp and stumble away from him, as if you’re afraid of him.

It makes Enji’s chest ache, but the sight of your blood is too distracting for him to focus on the uncomfortable ache. Instead, he’s thrusting your arm under the kitchen sink, the lukewarm water making you wince ever so slightly as it runs over the wound.

Enji’s brows furrow as he examines your arm; the cuts are long, zigzagging in every direction in a way that looks strange, not like any normal attack pattern he’s seen before. This doesn’t look natural, either – not like a regular scratch, not like you just slipped and fell and had unfortunate luck. No, this looks like something else entirely – like something purposeful, like their appearance marring your pretty skin isn’t accidental in the least. It’s only then that Enji sees the glinting silver fork out of the corner of his eye, sitting on the edge of the counter with a bit of red staining the ends.

Immediately his body is freezing, his grip on your arm squeezing tighter as the gears turn in his mind. You must have…

His jaw flexes as he grinds his teeth, those blue eyes of his slanting over to look at you with such intensity and anger that you physically shrink in on yourself. His grip is too firm for you to pull your arm back, Enji absolutely unwilling to let you run away from this.

Did you do this to yourself?

His voice is surprisingly even, given the look on his face, and immediately you’re shaking your head, your entirely body paralyzed with fear. You’ve never seen Enji look this scary before – or at least not towards you.

Your answer only serves to further anger him, it seems, because soon he’s literally snarling, his face twisted up into this ugly look of  rage that’s only heightened by the scar across his eye.

Don’t lie to me, I will always be able to tell when you’re untruthful with me. He pauses, taking a deep breath, his voice just the slightest bit unsteady. Did you do this to yourself?

This time you nod yes, tears prickling at your eyes and starting to spill down your cheeks, and at the sound Enji makes, they only flow faster. He looks like he’s in more pain than you are – his face is red, and a few flames lick up around his shoulders. The heat washes over you, and soon the begs are slipping off your tongue before you can help yourself.

Enji pays you no mind, every ounce of his self-control going towards not slapping you in the face for your blatant stupidity. Soon he’s letting go of your hand, stomping towards the small first aid kit he keeps in the kitchen, entirely silent as he carefully wraps your arm in bandages, not paying your rambling any attention or mind.

As soon as you’re securely bandaged, he leaves the room and you hear the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut reverberating throughout the house.

The rest of the night passes in a blur, with you somehow getting from the floor of the kitchen where you’d laid down and eventually fallen asleep all the way to your bed, with the blankets carefully slotted over your body.

Nothing seems to be amiss the next morning, your footsteps cautious as you approach the bathroom, your brows shooting up when you notice that the counter is completely bare – your toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, and mouthwash are all missing, as are all the expensive lotions and facial scrubs Enji normally keeps in piles for your convenience.

The kitchen is empty, too, you notice – the silverware drawer is completely empty, and there are no cups or mugs of any sort in any of the cupboards. It’s unnerving, and immediately you’re getting goosebumps all over your body, the air feeling prickly and cold, as if there’s something lurking that you don’t know about. Biting your lip, you make your way to the table, gingerly sitting down and trying not to jostle the bandages too much – the bandages that had been changed, you distantly notice.

A few minutes later, Enji joins you in the kitchen, his expression not exactly jovial, but not particularly hostile. He greets you as he normally does, before placing the mug you now notice is in his hand under sink. The sound of rushing water gets your mouth watering, not having realized how thirsty you were until this moment.

Wide eyes watch him turn towards you, making his way to your seated figure with slow, heavy steps that get your heart thudding in his chest. He stops right next to you, before telling you to open your mouth. Hesitantly, you do as he says, jerking slightly when his fingertips – always unnaturally warm – cup your chip and bring the cup up to your lips, the water cold as you’re forced to drink it.

Enji watches with neutral eyes, though you see the corner of his lip curl up slightly as you drink the entire glass, the pacing of the water flow nearly too much and nearly choking you. Soon it’s gone, and Enji uses his thumb to wipe at the corner of your lips.

Since yesterday’s little spectacle has shown me that you can’t be trusted with basic household supplies, let me know if you require another drink, if you’d like to brush your teeth, or if you’d like to wash your hair. You obviously can’t do it alone, so I will be joining you. Now, go lay down on the couch. I need to change your wrappings again.

You’re dumbfounded, watching him keep the mug in his grasp as he heads towards the living room. And though the threat seems too extreme, Enji means it – you only last a few hours before you reluctantly ask for another drink, your throat too dry and sore to go without it.

And that night, when you shamefully ask him for your toothbrush, you’re not particularly pleased to find out that he’ll be the one brushing your teeth, using his very own toothbrush to get the job done, just to make sure you don’t even think about trying to choke yourself with the brush.

(And when you finally have to shower, well, Enji’s face turns bright red when you ask, rushing to his feet much too quickly, grasping your hand and practically pulling you to the bathroom before applying all sorts of soaps and scents to the bath he draws for you. His breath is hitched as he turns around so you can change in privacy, but don’t be surprised to see him sneaking glances at your bare body beneath the water’s bubbly surface. Don’t be surprised when later that night you hear a suspiciously rhythmic thumping sound and muffled groans through the wall that  your bedrooms share, the faintest wet, squelching noise accompanying them.)

And, roughly a week later when you wake up to the cups and mugs back in the cupboard and your shampoo back in the shower, you’ll decide against hurting yourself anytime soon. It’s not worth it – not if that’s how you’ll be treated; forced to ask permission for your basic needs.

And Enji couldn’t be more pleased – now you’ll think twice about using that fork again, or anything else for that matter.

(And he can still force you into using his toothbrush – under the guise of furthering your bond and intimacy, of course. And because he’ll use it after you, savoring the feeling of the bristles against his tongue like some sort of drug.)

OVERALL DANGER:

 7/10

Enji isn’t necessarily dangerous, but rather inevitable.

He’s a determined man, driven by motivation for his goals, no matter the methods he uses to get there. And once he sets his sights on you, deciding that he wants you, that he loves you, you’re certainly no different – he will have you, and there’s not a single thing you can do about it. He’s a force to be reckoned with, and really, what sway do you have?

He’s a professional hero, known in the public sphere responsible for saving more lives than you could ever hope to, and who are you? You’re just a pretty face, a woman who happened to have the exact set of traits and physical appearance that Enji finds desirable – you have no real way to combat him, and who would believe you, anyway? Enji is the new symbol of peace – as far as the Commission is concerned, he can have whatever the hell he wants, and if that one thing is some civilian, then you can kiss your freedom goodbye.

But really, all things considered, Enji isn’t too terrible – he’s trying desperately to right his wrongs, to love you in a way that prioritizes your happiness and is just better, and although you’re certainly not happy being trapped by his side, he can at least pretend like this is better.

He wants you to be his pretty little thing, to be his housewife and treat him like your devoted, loving husband. He wants you to greet him with a kiss on the lips when he comes home from work, helping him out of his jacket and asking about his day, then lead him into the clean kitchen where you’ve got dinner waiting for him, then join him in the shower and then the bed, letting his hands wander to where they please, then fall asleep on his chest, letting him feel like he’s protecting you even in his sleep.

Is that really so much to ask for? Enji thinks not – besides, isn’t that the dream for you?

All you have to do is let him take care of you, to spoil you with flowers and chocolates and jewelry and all sorts of things that make women swoon. You’ll be spoiled rotten, treated like a goddess, and all you have to do is let Enji make all the decisions for you, to let him take control of your life and your future – it’s better this way, he promises.

This way, you’ll be properly cared for, kept safe and secure and comfortable by his side. You may not see it yet, but Enji is sure this is really what you want – you’ll come around eventually, he’s sure of it.

And if you don’t? Well, at least he’s not a monster, right?

[pleasehelpmeimfying]

Could I ask for sub Aventurine? Maybe he is really in his head with work and wants to not think anymore so reader pampers them and gets them in subspace? Idk up to you 💙🩵

LMFAO TURNS OUT I DONT FULLY UNDERSTAND WHAT SUBSPACE IS😭 so I’ll try my best LMFAOOO BUT ILL MAKE THE FIC SCRUMPTIOUS 😍.

(No fonts due to my lack of storage. Mb goober :( )

{Amab!sub!Aventurine, possible Aventurine OOC. Angst if you squint hard enough. Amab!top!reader, blowjob, Aventurine receiving, Shitty rushed fic. Definitely gonna edit the story line later 💀…}

Read at your own risk.

Working day in and day out. Barely any time for breaks or self pleasure. It’s either something going terribly wrong or more idiots with little common sense fucking something up.

His work was never done. Aventurine just wanted a break, something to look forward to. The lack of sleep caused bags to slowly form under his eyes. The more he became more irritable, the more he was losing his mind in this work space.

Aventurine was reading over some delays that was recently reported, to focused in his paperwork to notice you entering his office with his favorite meal. Slowly you walked towards your lover with a small smile gracing your lips. You took advantage on how.. distracted he was.

You placed the food on a nearby shelf, slowly making your way behind him. Did he suspect a thing? Absolutely not, and it was amazing. Once you made it behind him you wasted no time to cup his face from the back and give him gentle kisses all over the left side of his face.

Did it startle him? Oh absolutely. Aventurine momentarily frozen in place, quickly recovering to a sly smile and weak chuckling. He should’ve known your ass would pull some shit like this. Yet he couldn’t resist melting into your warmth! You treated him all to well, and deep down he was still confused why anyone would choose to love someone like him.

“Aventurine, how long have you been working? You haven’t been home in a while.. I was getting worried something.. might’ve happened.”

Your worry and concern for his well being made his heart grow and grow. Filling up with unthinkable amount of love just for you. How long has it been since you held him? How long was it since he felt your love? To long perhaps. Still his eyes lingered at the work in front of him. Staring up at him with blank areas still to fill out.

Aventurine let out a stifled breath. His annoyance slowly creeping back at him. He just needed a little more time to finish before he was sure he wasn’t sure this man was dying rn that he was done for the night. Regretfully he would say the same thing as he did all those others times before.

“Hm, I need to get back to this. I swear I’m almost done my love. Just need more time..”

Genuinely you weren’t really paying much attention to what he was saying. Blocking him out with a playful smile. Then before he knew it, your guided his face to look at yours and placed more deeper kisses on his gorgeous face. Luring him to you. Did he care? Nahh..

You moved a bit away, taking your hands off his face. He felt his heart drop. Just a little bit! Before he saw you push his chair further from his desk so you could get better access to him. That damn back side of the chair was killing you slowly 💀.

“Your eyes.. you look so tried baby. I can’t allow you to keep working like this. How about we go home and get some rest, yea?”

Aventurine did NOT feel like moving. He just wanted to just slump against his chair. Though he would rather die than tell you that. So let’s put on that infamous poker face shall we?

He looked at you and gave you a smile. Weakly nodding in an attempt to play through his false facade. Did your bitch ass notice it? Yes and it was both concerning and hilarious. So you decided to cup his face one more time and bless his ears with your words. And in between words you kept squishing his face:3

“Second thought.. how bout we stay here just a little while longer. Relax a bit before you rush back home.”

Aventurine didn’t know what to do. First you wanted to go and now you wanna stay? Eh, he’ll just go with the flow. Though your hands felt so warm and soft. Once again he melted into your touch.. Then his mind wondered to places it shouldn’t have. First ranging to sweet thoughts, then to some more.. let’s say delusional thinking. Next thing you know as he has a ranging boner.

He knew that you knew about his problem. Probably why he turned into a whining mess in the next 42 minutes..

Hands tangled in your locks as he kept buckling into your mouth. Aventurine bit biting his bottom lips as muffled whines were forced out of his throat. Tears ready to spill at any moment as you kept going. Slurping his length without much care as your hands forced his thighs apart.

“<Y/N>.. please! I c-can’t hold- Nmmph! Hold I-It!♡︎”

Your mouth was warm and wet it almost made him go crazy. Aventurine didn’t know how your jaw wasn’t in agony by now. Forgot that thought, his lower half was absolutely being destroyed by you. Legs shaking as he tugged your hair one last time before combusting in your sweet mouth.

A gurgled moan slipped through Aventurine throat as the tears finally spilt. Back arching as his legs kept opening and closing. He just didn’t know what to do, what a poor baby.

“Shitshitshitshitshit… OohhHH! MmpPHH♡︎!”

His mind went completely blank. Not a single thought resided in that beautiful brain of his. Only tears and pleasure clouded his mind. He didn’t even notice you take his cock out of your mouth. He was just to fucked out honestly.

Aventurine body was twitching as he took deep breaths, trying to hold to some kind of saintly.

Maybe he would’ve finish his work later if he even remembered.

[deadlynavigation]

Hello again! how are you? I hope your well, I wanted to give you another request about Male Wednesday, if it's not too much to ask, can you make an NSFW alphabet and an scenario (nsfw too) for Male Wednesday? I hope my order doesn't bother you or be strange... I'll wait for you!

NSFW Alphabet: W.A.

Warnings: mentions of: smut, obviously. knives to the throat, choking, necks snapping, temp play, blindfolds, graves, limping, edging, basically Wednesday Addams.

Author’s Note: thank you for the request babe! and your patience 😭 this is my halloween treat for you guys, hope yall enjoy. i was also thinking of adding a taglist- would anyone be interested in that? lmk

Wednesday is once again aged up, same as previous fics if not a little older.

Navigation

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

Wednesday would be pretty standoffish after sex. He’s new to the whole emotional intimacy thing, and it’s going to take a couple tries before he perfects it. After a few minutes of brooding, though, he’ll shower you in affection. Baths, massages, kisses, whatever you want from him. Princess treatment.

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

His neck is by far his favorite part of himself. He’s not a vain person - he has better things to focus on. But he is in shape and dammit if his neck doesn’t clearly display that. Wednesday loves how his neck could end his life at any moment, especially when you choke him.

On you, your legs are by far his favorite. They’re absolutely beautiful. He can drag his hands up your leg and feel the goosebumps form, your breath hitching.

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

Inside or on your stomach. There’s no in-between. He likes the feeling of marking his territory, even though he belongs to you more than you could ever belong to him. The feeling of total connection is nice too. And if he finishes on your stomach, he loves to look down at the reminder of what you do to him.

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

Hold a knife to his neck. Do it. This man will get so turned on. The fact that he’s with such a deadly woman? Who’s not afraid to handle a weapon? In the bedroom? Wednesday could cum with that knowledge alone.

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

Wednesday is kind of experienced. He was socially awkward as a teen and into young adulthood, so he missed out on a lot of opportunities. But as an adult, he built up his portfolio enough to know how to make you see stars.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

There are only a couple positions Wednesday isn’t okay with - if you bring a new one up, he’s mostly down to do it. He does have preferences, though. You riding him will never get old. He has the perfect view from below, taking in every expression and sigh. It also takes any expectations off of him, leaving the bulk of the work for someone else. Don’t worry, he’ll make it up to you later 😏

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

Wednesday isn’t a fan of humor in daily life, and you can bet that translates into the bedroom. He doesn’t lack all sense of emotion, though. He transforms into a simp in every sense of the word once his back hits the bedsheets, making comments every so often simply to bring a smile to your face. Overall very serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s not just rich, he’s hygenic. Wednesday definitely has a studio booked at least twice a month for simple care down there, just to keep everything in check. He knows you love his cleanliness too, so he keeps it up.

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

It depends on the day. If Wednesday had gotten off from a long day of work and is in a bad mood, it’s fast and aggressive and not intimate in the least. But if he’s content with the day and in a somewhat calm mood, you’d best believe his eyes will make you melt in the middle of getting eaten out.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Wednesday prefers not to. Why would he when there are so many other things to do? But if he’s feeling really desperate, or if you’ve been on a trip for the past couple days, he’ll bang out a quickie just to relieve the tension. It doesn’t mean anything if you aren’t there, in his opinion.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

We’ve already talked about the knives, but that’s just scraping the surface. He’d be into temperature play, especially with half-melted candles, enjoying the way you recoil ever so slightly before arching into the warmth. The blindfold would be a big hit too, a mockup of a silent grave.

L = Location (favorite places to do the dirty)

The bedroom is the preferred area for him, but he’s more than willing to change it up. Has done and will do it in the graveyard for some adventure, but a dark bathtub is an instant spark of intimacy for him.

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

If you pick up any weapon whatsoever and show that you know your way around it, he’s bricked. Your body draped in lingerie is a turn on too - he appreciates fine craftsmanship.

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

Any sort of sharing is a no. You are his, and he is yours, and to him, that is sacred.

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

Wednesday is a giver in every sense of the word. He loves looking up at you from between your thighs, letting out a slow moan and watching you squirm. He doesn’t really go for receiving, but if you’re offering, he won’t refuse.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Again, depends on your moods. A bad mood generally means a quick release of rage, and a good mood means slow, peaceful lovemaking. He’s down to switch it up depending on what you’re both looking for that day though.

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

He loves them - they serve their purpose well enough. Wednesday likes to take his time with you, but he’ll never say no to having you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Sometimes he’s open to taking risks, but not often. He tends to stick to the classics, what he knows works. He wants to please and be pleased, and anything that comes in the way of that (like a failed risk) is merely a disposable burden.

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

Wednesday is the type of man to have so much control over his stamina that it makes you question his mental state. Seriously, if he has his way with you, you won’t be able to walk for days because of the sheer amount of rounds he carries you through. He likes having that control over himself, and isn’t afraid to use it to the fullest.

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

Nope. Toys are something he avoids; they just aren’t appealing to him. You’re more than enough for him, and he makes that known every time you bring it up.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Teasing is popular with you guys. Especially if either one has provoked the other. You flirted with someone else, and checked to make sure he was watching? You playfully avoided him, only sparing light touches to his chest? He can and will drag one singular orgasm out for hours.

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

Wednesday isn’t afraid to express himself, and this shows in bed. Soft moans will fall from his lips, as well as slurred words of encouragement. He doesn’t see a reason to hide the enjoyment that you caused.

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

“Proud of yourself?” You call over your shoulder as you limp towards the closet.

“Very,” Wednesday replies as he watches early morning light paint your body. He’s relaxed against the bed frame, a smirk slightly tilting his swollen lips.

“Wednesday.” You reply sternly. There’s no way you’re getting dressed for the day with what your lover did to you last night; at least, not without help.

“I’m coming, cara mia.” Wednesday chuckles as he lifts himself from the bed and towards where you have parked yourself. He leans down to you, his mouth positioned just over your ears. “Where do you need me?”

Your heart stutters, his voice echoing in your mind. God, how you want this man. “Too early for seduction. I need a shirt.” You mumble before you end up even more sore than you already are.

Wednesday laughs softly before grabbing your waist and guiding you back to the bed. “I beg to differ, dove.”

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

Wednesday is packing. Full-on, grazing your cervix, causing a little bump in your belly, rendering your legs useless. You almost fainted the first time you saw his cock, to be completely honest. He knows exactly how big he is and how that affects you, too, and that’s the infuriating part: he knows exactly what to say about it to get you worked up.

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

Normally, his drive is pretty average. But whenever you are around him, his drive peaks, and he is desperate for you whenever you want to have him. He can hold his ground though and pretend he has no interest in having sex if he wants to tease, though.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards

Wednesday wouldn’t even think about sleeping before you’re taken care of and drifting off. But after that, he’s out like a light. The physical exertion and emotional intimacy exhausts him, but once he’s gotten a good amount of sleep and a wake-up call with your kisses, he’s ready to do it all over again.

[ohnoitsjetster]

Didn’t Herbert West technically TECHNICALLY try to baby trap Dan in Bride of Reanimator?

Thoughts?

(Im sorry this took forever to respond to. life got in the way, of my silly little words)

technically, yes. The main intention was the same. But "Baby Trap" does not even start to explain the shit Herbert pulled in Bride of Reanimator.

thoughts? you want THOUGHTS? alright how about let me break down exactly what Herbert did here:

That man stole Megan's heart from an evidence locker and stored it in his fridge. When Dan tried to leave Herbert, He offered the heart to Dan with every ounce of reverence he could deliver without getting down on one knee.

that is to say, Herbert anticipated that Dan would leave him and saw that he loved Megan. So his reaction was to steal Megan's actual physical HEART, and give it to Dan as an offering to force him to stay.

He vaguely explained that he was about to baby trap him with it, to which Dan agreed because of his blind love for Meg, and his blind love for Herbert, and because, in the words of Bruce Abbot, "no one will ever get rich overestimating Dan's bad taste."

(This could maybe be because the world of Reanimator uses weird sci-fi logic where the heart contains the person's personality or life or whatever, and it'd actually bring Meg back (even though these movies seemed pretty brain-focused thus far), in which case, pretty good manipulator leverage! nice job, Herbie! Otherwise, its either because Herbert knew Dan would like this weird creepy gesture of love, or because Herbert thought this weird creepy gesture of love was a normal and good idea, and coincidentally Dan was that same wavelength of out-of-touch freak as Herbert, because they're just meant for each other or something. That last option is my personal favorite)

So, then Herbert goes around the hospital STEALING more body parts off corpses (former patients who also presumably received some form of care and attention from Dan), trying to create Dan's perfect woman based on his shallow perception of whatever it is that straight, allosexual, relatively neurotypical men like (maybe since Herbert can't be what Dan wants romantically, he can create it for him and earn love that way (that cannot be good for His internalized transphobia)).

so then he meticulously assembles a woman like an Ikea cabinet and proceeds to give Dan the worlds most sensual elevator pitch, using... a line that he heard Dan use with his girlfriend when he was eavesdropping on them having sex. He tries to explain why this is the perfect woman for all your woman needs! Like uhhh sex, and... sex, and lawyering? maybe murder? (I guess he thinks it'd be nice to have a woman who can kill for you and defend your crimes in a court of law. That does sound useful in their situation)

Then he watched the Bride fight Francesca like some sort of underground girlfriend fighting ring, as if the larger and stronger girl would win ownership of our poor pathetic Dr Cain. Unfortunately Herbert's creation broke down to nothing when it removed its own heart to give it to Dan in the same exact gesture with which Herbert showed Dan the heart earlier.

Pure heterosexual coincidence, of course. There is absolutely nothing odd about Herbert's gift to Daniel being a grotesque amalgamation of everyone Dan loved instead of him and everything those people had to offer Dan, fueled by the pumping of Megan's heart (whom Herbert had hated and competed with), a heart both stolen and offered willingly, one both frozen and thawed, both beating and dead. There Dan stays, too close, yet too far. (am i reading into it- You Bet)

Yup. Pure coincidence. And also nothing suspicious about it being a creature created of such concentrated love, reverence, devotion, and bitter fear of rejection, that at the moment of being pushed away, it entirely self destructs because its only purpose was to love Dan and be loved by him. Its only purpose was to be perfect for Dan, to be enough for him, to be some action of Herberts blood sweat and tears that could ever be wanted by him. But of course Herbert doesn't understand Daniel - understand people - as well as he hoped too. Dan is horrified. No clearer rejection than that. If we see her as an extension of Herbert, it's obviously the last straw. Herbert truly did everything for Dan, not only was he still unlovable, but repulsive, an affront to... what have you; god, nature, some simple short-sighted ideal of what a human should be. Above that Dan could see the seams of the uncanny imitation of his past loves, and the love that laid beneath was too much for him. Too loud, too fast, too raw and bloody. So it dies. The heart is given, and thrown away.

What I'm trying to say is that shit was crazy. Herbert could have done a much more cut and dry baby trap. He could have reanimated some random kid, forcing Dan to stick around and protect it. That would have been its own special kind of fucked up and is probably a good fanfic prompt. But noooo, Herbert had to do the most psychosexual, convoluted, batshit, traumatizing, bloody, gory, and frankly unnecessary declaration of love that could be achieved by one little scientist with nothing to his name but a little green potion and every mental illness. I for one think it was a fantastic idea.

No tldr, ur just gonna have to match my freak on this one. Hope my mad ramblings made some sense. Peace and love

[betweensaintsandmonsters]

okay okay vampire obi-wan and anemic human anakin who goes to be his meal at like a fancy vampire bistro that pays willing humans to "donate" blood (get bitten) and tastes like shit whomst obi-wan then tries to take care of (in all the ways he can from sunset to sunrise) first so his food tastes good (bc anakin keeps coming back) and then because he cares

sends cookbooks to his apartment, tries to get him to go to the doctor, sends him other little gifts when he sees thinks that make him think of anakin, obi-wan just like wants to take care of his boy because he's clearly not taking care of himself (he signed up to be vampire food so that much should have been obvious) and obi-wan just wants him well is that too much to ask?

they fight about this often. (first: "how did you get my address?" "It's on the form you filled out to be here" "invasion of privacy much?" then: "you could always just... choose someone else?" "and let another vampire suffer from your lack of self care? absolutely not."") ("i don't know why you're putting so much into this? "i must have nothing else to do.") ("if this bothers you so much... just let someone else feed off me." "no.")

anakin stops showing up to be dinner for a few weeks and obi-wan gets worried. but he's not sure how far he's allowed to go in his worry, they're technically just... predator and prey (though obi-wan wouldn't describe them like that) it's just that no one tastes like anakin (that's definitely it) and nobody sasses him like anakin, and nobody is anakin and anakin is missing and clearly if he's been gone this long he can't possibly be okay

(and obi-wan is right, anakin isn't okay. he's in the hospital with an arm that might need to be amputated (but it was obi-wan's favorite place to drink from since he won't touch anakin's neck for reasons he WON'T explain)

(if you asked obi-wan why he didn't bite anakin's neck to begin with, he'd heavily imply there's no reason, but when pressed, it would be that anakin let's out this breathy moan when he's bitten, and it's music to obi-wan's ears, a symphony to his soul, he doesn't think he'd survive it if that was right in his ear, he'd have to kiss the boy then and there, have to keep him, and he can't do that, so his neck is off limits. it is IMPERATIVE anakin does not know this)

and he's lost a lot of blood and he's suffering and not alone because ahsoka and padme keep visiting, but he doesn't know how much he misses obi-wan until he isn't seeing him)

so one night obi-wan goes to anakin's apartment to see he isn't there and hasn't been there in weeks based on sent, and panics because what if he drove his beautiful boy away, or what if someone went after him, and obi-wan can't go in bc vampire rules say he needs permission and also it's good manners.

eventually anakin comes back to him, sans one arm, apologetic because "i know that's where you liked to bite" as if that could possibly be the reason that obi-wan is as upset as he is when he comes in. "i'd understand if you need a different meal," he says, as if that's all he is when obi-wan refuses to bite him because for the first time, he looks fragile and that's heartbreaking

so anakin leaves and obi-wan is gobsmacked, flabberghasted, realized anakin waited to have this conversation as close to sunrise as possible so obi-wan couldn't follow him out of the bar, but he doesn't realize that his vampire would absolutely run into the sun for him (except quin and satine 1000% don't let him "that's not how you get your man, he doesn't want a pile of dust, where's that going to get you, man, think for just a fraction of a second")

so obi-wan send anakin more little gifts, things he can puzzle out one handed as he gets used to being an amputee, trinkets he might enjoy, notes that are meant to make him smile, or that say he'll find somewhere else to feed on the boy if that's going to get him to come back when nothing else has worked. all he wants is to let anakin know that he's he's appreciated, make him feel wanted and loved.

eventually anakin sends him a note back with his phone number and then texts him to come over. he makes obi-wan stand on his stoop for an excruciating amount of time and he gets a lecture about personal space, and respecting people's wishes and "it doesn't matter that you're 300 years old, some people just don't want anything to do with you!" and anakin tries to say all of this with a straight face, before he cracks because he misses obi-wan and it is an act, and he's been in love with this vampire since he decided it was his job to take care of one human that wasn't taking care of himself.

then anakin kisses him and gives him a goofy grin and asks "what are you doing just standing there?"

"are you inviting me in?"

"i guess i am. you're stuck with me though, i'm your problem now."

"darling, you've been my problem for a long time, and i wouldn't have it any other way."

and eventually they fuck, and obi-wan bites anakin's neck, and here's his symphony played out in the most desirable circumstances. and they live happily ever after

(until anakin pesters him about making him a vampire "so i can be your problem, permanently" and they argue about it, but agree that anakin gets a life first "you've gotta be at least 40 before i turn you, i'm not going around looking like i forever robbed the cradle!" "you're not even 40! 25." "nope." "fine, 30 then, final offer." "and if I say no?" obi-wan's grin is feral, like he knows he's lost but he's still willing to play the game. "i know you won't" so does obi-wan)

[butterflyexe]

Hearts attached 🖤

Max Verstappen x Reader Warning: Hints of sexual themes, desperation, parental neglect, depression, assault

A/N: This is my first time writing a fic and I am completely an amature in this department. This took me about a week of researching of how to write and what to write. I had to delete and rewrite it several times and half of the words I wasn't even familiar with 3 days ago. Please treat me with kindness.

In which some people are born with their souls entangled with their other halves which allows them to fell the emotions of their soulmate.

Soulmates are the two halves of the same eternal flame. When an eternal flame splits into two, it forms two halves of the same soul. When one of the flames are born in a human form, the other does too. They are bound to each other through heart.

In a world where only a select few are born with intertwined souls, Max Verstappen and Vivian Eloise found themselves bound by this extraordinary connection.

Max, a man hardened by his father’s relentless pursuit of victory, was a stark contrast to Vivian, a woman whose spirit was as vibrant as her laughter. Their lives were separate, yet together, connected by an invisible thread of shared emotions.

Max’s life was a constant race, a battle against himself. His father’s mantra, “Second winner is the first loser” echoed in his mind, shaping him into a man always on edge, always pushing, always striving. His emotions were a turbulent sea of anxiety, frustration, and exhaustion. He often over did himself, fighting himself to be better than the rest. He would do everything, go to any extent just to make his father proud. Yet, amidst this storm, there was a source of light and comfort - Vivian.

Vivian was a ray of sunshine. Raised in a family that nurtured her with love and kindness, she radiated happiness. Her laughter was infectious, her spirit unbreakable. But she also felt a pull, a tug at her heartstrings whenever Max was overwhelmed. She felt his emotions as if they were her own, and she found herself wanting to soothe his troubled soul.

Whenever Max was engulfed in self-doubt, feeling insecure, Vivian would find joy in the simplest things. She would dance in the rain, sing at the top of her lungs, lose herself in the pages of a good book or pour her heart out on the canvas. Her happiness flowed through their shared bond, washing over Max like a soothing balm. He could feel her joy seeping into his veins, calming his racing heart, and for a moment, he would forget his worries.

When Vivian experiences intense period cramps, Max senses her discomfort as if it were his own. When it first happaned, he thought he had gotten some severe stomach flu. Upon asking his mother he realized just how difficult it is to handle them. Max spent hours researching about mansturation, it's effects on women and ways to sooth them.Max took some special measures during this difficult period. He prepares a warm herbal tea, knowing it can ease muscle tension. Max put heating pads against his stomach to help her calm down and would eat chocolates his taste buds sensed her eat. His empathy and care help alleviate her pain, turning their shared suffering into a moment of connection and support.

Both of them would often spend hours at a time to try and imagine how the other looked, what were their favorite songs, favorite food etc. Max would often find himself wondering if she watched F1, if she knew him, if she was a fan. What was the possibility of her watching him race? He would try to give his absolute best in case she was watching.

Vivian would wonder what he looked like, if he had brown eyes like her or if they were blue. She would often try and pour her heart on her canvas using her best colours. She would wonder what book he was reading if her read any at all. She would wonder if he liked to admire art and paintings like she did.

Their lives were a dance of emotions, a symphony of feelings. They navigated through their separate lives, yet they were never truly apart. Their souls were intertwined, their emotions shared. They yearned for each other, a longing that was as deep as the ocean.

And then, one faithful day, they met. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring them together. Their eyes met each other's on the qualifying day of the Australian grand prix and in that moment, they knew. They knew they were soulmates. The connection was palpable, a current of electricity that buzzed between them. It was a meeting of souls, a fusion of hearts.

In the end, Max found solace in Vivian’s joy, and Vivian found purpose in soothing Max’s turmoil. They were two halves of a whole, separate yet together, navigating through life in their unique dance of emotions. Their story is a testament to the power of shared emotions, the strength of an invisible bond, and the beauty of soulmates.

[amagellaniccloud]

Ghost NSFW alphabet

Here's a Self-indulgent thing I wrote 'cause this man has me in a chokehold I wish he actually had me in one

Also, I tried my best to make this as GN as possible, if I made a mistake, pls let me know.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

This post contains sexually explicit content. If you are a Minor please respect this rule and scroll past and DO NOT ENGAGE WITH NSFW POSTS. NSFW under the cut

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) I feel like he would fall asleep pretty quickly after sex. I hc that he has some form of Insomnia so I think after he's done with everything, he would bring his s/o water or anything else they wanted but would prefer to fall asleep before cleanup.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) For his own body part: His hands + arms. I think he likes how they make him visibly look strong and intimidating, scaring people off which he'd love and his hands for a similar reason. Plus his hands can also be………… utilized in great ways As for his partner: Probably their waist. I think he's the kind of guy to have a hand around their partner's waist 24/7. Doesn't matter which size, he would just love to hold his s/o close to him in every situation and its also a nice way to show affection

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Amount; probably a lot. I think it depends on where he's coming though, like on your belly; a pretty good amount but inside? probably will empty enough baby maker for the next ten generations as for consistency; I think it is a little thicker than watery but pretty in the middle and Taste (my fav part); a bit sweet but with a salty aftertaste, I think (I just think the taste is so hot idk why)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) Brat taming. Not him doing the taming but the one being tamed if you catch my drift. wink wink.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Most likely as experienced as a teenager, so barely. He didn't have enough time after his teen years and didn't really make any real effort to go out and meet someone

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Mating Press: His partner's legs in the air while absolutely annihilating their hole and they become a moaning mess under him would turn him on immensely Back-shots possibly???? anyone with me on this?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.) He's extremely serious. He might unintentionally do something but for the most part, very serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Pretty well groomed. He takes good care of his hair, not that there's much. He's blond I'm pretty sure and also white, yeah I don't think he has much hair. BUT, I think he has pubic hair that he keeps trimmed whenever he has the time. Otherwise I think he's pretty hairless in terms of body hair, I'd say he's almost hairless

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Very intimate, he sees sex as an intimate act with his partner. That being said tho, he will like it rough if he's in the right mood for it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) I don't think he masturbates when he can be with his s/o. Like if you are in the army with him and are on deployment at the same time then he wouldn't jack off really. But, if his s/o aren't with him on deployment or even the military, then he would jack off when in the mood.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Size kink Breeding kink some light bondage maybe maybe begging to and I also think he'd be into sub/dom dynamics (dk if that's a kink tho)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Probably in the comfort of his own bedroom. He prefers the darkness and familiarity of it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Any form of intimacy would get him hot and bothered. The man seems very touch starved to me, so if his s/o for examples puts their hand on his inner thigh etc he would get a boner pretty quickly

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Something that would cause any pain to him or his s/o in any capacity. He deals with enough pain and suffering in his job, rather not have it in his love life

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Probably more of a receiver, idk maybe it's his mask but I cannot Imagine him giving most of the time. He'd do it if you'd beg ask tho

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Think snice slow and sensual in the beginning but towards the middle and end, would probably become rougher and would quicken his pace

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Prefers to have sex but, if there isn't time for that, why not?

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Not much of a risk taker, again, he deals with a lot of that at work and would rather not bring it into his sex life.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) I think three, maybe four on some days. He's got good stamina but isn't y'know… Hercules

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) Doesn't own toys himself but is open to trying some with his partner

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) I think he'd tease a fair bit, but not too much. Think will enjoy it more if his s/o is easily frustrated and begs for him to do something or stop the teasing

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Pretty quiet. Will let out a lot of groans and a few moans here and there

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) I think he'd like to get his ass eaten more than getting a blowjob. Like his s/o's wet tongue rimming him while stretching his hole and muscly ass while his bent over a couch will drive him crazy

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Think a nice 7 in are hiding in those pants. He's British so maybe uncut? and also pretty thick

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) I think he doesn't have that high of a sex drive bet when he does wanna have sex? He will be a beast in every way

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) I hc that he as some form of Insomnia and sex while relax him, so he'll fall asleep pretty quickly. Especially if he has his partner in his arms

──────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

Hi again, I've got a week 'till college starts and Monsoons are happening which is making me horny. Idk why but rain makes me so horny. ANYWAYS. How was your day, mine was fucking tiring. Also, has anyone reading this ever played the game Rain World? That is literally THE most PERFECT game I've played. It's incredible. If you like open-world games, then definitely check it out anyway, I hope you enjoyed this... have a lovely day, and may you see Ghost from CoD in your dreams (Ik I want to)

[fumifooms]

I've reached a certain point in the manga now where Sissel heckles Marcille and mentions how "half breeds" are sterile.

And now I can't get out of my head the idea of a Marcille who can't become a mother herself, but ends up being able to experience something of the sort through meeting Chilchuck's daughters (even if they are all grown already.)

And allow me to go further, but also imagine that there is a point where Chilchuck does finally bury the hatchet with his wife, but have come to accept that they just don't work anymore, and decide to divorce formally on amicable terms.

The daughters therefore all slowly get to know Marcille, and even without the intent of being motherly, she dotes on them all anyway (because they're just so cute and so sweet!), and they see how their crabby father's eyes goes soft when they see Marcille interacting with them that by the end of it, they corner their father and tell him they approve.

Yes!!! YES!!!

You seem to not have finished the manga yet so I want to avoid spoilers… But no if I’m going into this topic I’ll absolutely end up spoiling some things lol. So beware, spoilers in the links I put and under the cut! I also talk about this topic/dynamics headcanons a bit here, and here, and specifically about his wife and him reconciling or not here, and my fanfic Grind Me Down Sweetly has bits and headcanons like these, but it’s an aspect of marchil with lots of potential!! Not obligatory reading btw lol, I just like to keep things as tidy as I can with things I cover many times plus there’s more stuff I won’t say here. I’m gonna be talking for a while though!!

I feel she could genuinely get along great with Flertom and Puckpatti, their personalities seem pretty compatible! Meanwhile Meijack’s more reserved, but Marcille would grow on her too. Meijack 100% would be the one who sticks more around her father as Marcille and her sisters chat enthusiastically when she first meets them, and out of nowhere she goes "She suits you." and Chil spits out his beer, but he swallows back the urge to deny it and then agrees.

One of my marchil timelines is that they stay close friends for a long time after post-canon, before maybe or maybe not dating. I like to think that after they meet, Marcille starts exchanging letters with Flertom sometimes because they hit it off and Chilchuck is like "Why are you on first name basis with my daughter!!! WHY ARE YOU ON FIRST NAME BASIS WITH MY DAUGHTER!! WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN, STOP INFILTRATING ALL OF MY LIFEEEE-" <- Man who has her on his mind 24/7 and is kinda going mad over it. Hehe I’ll let you read the fic I linked in the beginning if that sounds fun to you!

I know that in my fic wips where confessions or proposals happen I tend to bring the topic of the daughters up. Here’s my favorite that lowkey guts me

Post-canon spoiler but I like the idea that when the Toudens die from age or one thing or another, if one of them forms a family and has kids (through adoption or anything) then at least over the centuries she’d still overlook the lineage of royals and would find a sort of solace from that, always being surrounded by lots of caring people. I think this is a bit healing for her single child self as well! Her notion of family and childhood are very tainted by loneliness and loss, and though she needs to accept that all hellos end with goodbye and find closure and happiness even through that, something can definitely be done about the loneliness! And as you can see with my fanfic wip, in a perfect marchil world I also think that she would fully become a part of Chilchuck’s family and generations down the line either people at family gatherings call her "great-auntie", or inversely no one really knows and just goes "oh her? Yeah that’s Marcille. She’s in the family -shrug-". The family dinners would be awkward at first since I imagine Chilchuck’s prejudices on elves come from somewhere lol, but it’d be so sweet.

But yes, back to the daughters! Marcille is 100% a mom friend who loves caring for her loved ones (I have a post examining that a bit here), there’s how she likes to bathe Izutsumi and Falin after all (Kui has said it herself that she loves when characters care for others in ways like that, which reflects in Marcille, and with Milsiril & Kabru or Mithrun & his caretakers, etc~), but I don’t think she’d actually want a kid herself if she had to choose, maybe she’d grow to want it one day but I think what kind of bonds she’s looking for currently are more platonic and such than familial in nature, that she wouldn’t want ro raise a child herself quite yet. She likes spoiling people she loves and caring for them in domestic ways, but not the ‘everything else’ part lol. So I actually think this works out great!! She 100% dotes on them as you said, but in many ways I think their dynamic would be a lot like gal pals chatting every once in a while, Flertom and her share in the latest gossip and they talk about fashion amongst other things! With Meijack being more akin to the usual stepmother dynamic where what ties them together is Chilchuck, until they grow to have a bond based on familiarity over time (I feel like due to these she’s the one that would have a mother-daughter relationship with Marcille the most since Flertom and Puckpatti would be more casual with her, but I basically think all the daughters and Marcille see each other as equals). Their common point above everything is caring about Chilchuck, and though of course Marcille would be ready to offer motherly comfort or support for them if they wanted it, the girls are pretty past that age so I don’t see it happening all that much, at least not in the first 5 years or so~ I think once Chil dies (probably not very late with how he drinks a lot of alcohol and was malnourished/"strict dieting" for what’s implied to be a very long time) the reverse is gonna happen, where Marcille is gonna be absolutely gutted and will reach out to the girls a lot to grieve together and spend time recovering together. Talking about him and whatnot. If his wife goes to his funeral and they meet, Marcille and her could potentially also have very interesting interactions.

Girl sure wishes she wasn’t right here :( Unbeknownst to him she’d be giving him lifespan buffs ad infinitum if she could

And! It was so easy for me to miss this detail when I first read The Adventurer’s Bible (the world guidebook) but Marcille’s mom remarried! Marcille has a stepfather herself! It’s interesting that Marcille’s relationship with him or her stance on her mom remarrying is left so open, but she certainly acts enthusiastic about families and kids so doesn’t seem like there’s a complex there. I think this would give her a lot of thoughts about potentially being a stepmother though! I think it might influence her in her casual attitude, where she doesn’t want to push herself as ‘the new mother’ and whatnot, and I think honestly if the girls ever wanted to vent to her about how their family situation made them feel, Marcille and them could have really heartfelt and understanding conversations.

Ah yes ah yes, might as well unload my ‘Chilchuck has a second family of clingy asses’ timeline I adore: Marcille and Izutsumi, + the rest of the gang to a lesser degree~ I already linked a post in which I talk about how Marcille’s somewhat of a motherly presence for her, and Izutsumi’s relationship with Chilchuck is def rather father-like too (post going into that here)! A post-canon Marcille hc I love is that Marcille gets a cat~ A black one to fit with her witch aesthetic, and with how the cat hairs are black like the dresses she now wears all the time so it’s less apparent that she’s covered in them lol. It reminds her of Izutsumi a bit as she goes on her journey, it’s kinda like the chickens she had around her as a kid, she loves having things to care for and spoil AND also it’s the end place of her character arc about appreciating loved ones even if they’re short-lived, and having the courage to want to know and love them anyways… It always comes back to marchil and his stupid only 20 years left to live I swear 😭 I genuinely feel like Marcille tends to keep some emotional distance from others during canon to try and minimize that effects of loss would have on her, but more on that in another upcoming post. But yeah I feel like every time she sees a stray cat while strolling out she starts tearing up a little… She wonders if Izutsumi is okay and eating well and all… But she learns to live with not fully knowing, and optimism & being hopeful are her trademark thing so she puts them to good use! Sometimes her and Chil will hang out of his shop and they’ll see a stray cat. They start leaving some food out for them. Chil is all "Bad idea! They’ll become overly reliant on our food and it’ll be bad for them!" at first but he caves. So then they watch it feed on what they gave it, and she brings up what was both on their mind. "Do you ever wonder where Izutsumi went, if she’s alright…" "You say that as if she didn’t visit three months ago. Aren’t you supposed to be the one for who long periods of time mean little here?" And a silence falls, but then after a bit he finally replies, without snark. "… I do." Marcille’s cat would 100% be a stray she decided to adopt actually. I am seeing how a marchil fic being written centered around this would work~ Before she brings it to the castle and officially adopts it, she sees it standing out in the rain all pitifully in front of Chil’s shop once and she invites it in (to Chilchuck’s despair), and from then on it’s still a stray but it has a home to go back to. And it can showcase Marcille and Chil’s relationship alongside that metaphorically and it’s like… Domesticating love… 😭 I think I hold a Grind Me Down Sweetly sequel here~ Chilchuck is so the ‘doesn’t want a cat dad who ends up being the cat’s favorite’, both with his cat daughter and the actual cat lol, and Marcille’s not a cat but he certainly wasn’t looking for another romance so hey!! Chilchuck expected to live alone forever after his wife didn’t get back together with him, but surprise!!! Ok cat tangent over I promise <3

Meeting the stepmom energy… Plus the dwarven bachelor. And the king. Maybe he didn’t make up with his wife "like how well it goes in stories" like he hoped for, but her wish sure did come true!! She met his family!! :] I’m planning a huge character arc post about this part of their interactions in canon, but optimism and hope did at least half the job <3 Especially since he hadn’t seen his daughters in years too. She’s good for him!!! And he’s good for her!!!

<3

[builtbykittie]

Thirst

J.T.K x f!reader

Summary: you lose your friends at a party, the unfamiliar setting sending you into a panic. Giving up your search, you meet someone very peculiar...

Warnings: 18+, VAMP JAKE, mentions of alcohol, blood, portrayal of fear, injury & pain, blood feeding, SMUT, public sex, oral (f & m rec), fingering, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, choking, anything else I forgot

Words: 5.8k

A/N: happy Halloween to all that celebrate! In honor of one of my favorite times of the year, I give you a spooky Jake smut. Enjoy!

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A chill creeps its way up your spine as the crisp October weather nips at your skin. "Can't tell which one it is can you?" You jest, shutting the car door behind you and staring at the large house decorated with countless Halloween props, loud music booming inside.

Your friends had plans to go to a party just outside of your city for Halloween. You originally said no but they inevitably convinced you. Apparently one of them knew the host of the party, but of course, you were still suspicious regardless of who knew who.

Large animatronics greet you on your way to the front door, anxiety settling in as you get a glimpse of everybody through the window. Suck it up. It's just a party, what's the worst that could happen?

If you're being honest with yourself, a lot could happen. It is Halloween, after all.

Going against all of your ethics, you walk through the door. Just as you expected there is not a single face you recognize and your group splits up, all going their separate ways. You knew you shouldn't have come.

Instant regret takes over your head and a lump forms in your throat. You can't leave because you didn't even take your car and you don't know anyone that could drive almost an hour just to come get you and drop you back off at your house. You decide a drink could be the best therapy right now.

As you walk through the main room, you lock eyes with a man leaning back against the wall, alone and observing the party. You watch as his tired eyes light up and he stands straight before you look away.

To your misfortune, the kitchen is completely crowded, you're unable to even see the counters. "Excuse me," you try your best to get past the crowd of people in costumes. After no one hears you, you say it again, then again.. and after trying over and over to get past everyone you realize it's no use. Why is nobody listening?

You grow frantic, scanning for any familiar faces. None. You ask countless people if they've seen your friends, giving them the best description you could possibly give, but to no avail. Finally giving up, you spot the patio door and make a beeline straight to it.

The second the cold air hits your skin goosebumps cover your body, nobody else in sight. Odd... Falling into the chair behind you, your eyes flutter shut. By the time you sit down, it's nearly 11:30 p.m. and you're undeniably tired.

You're not positive how much time has passed since you sat down, but you know it's time to get up once you find yourself dozing off. Looking into the party, you dread going back in, so you don't. Is it kinda crazy to be hopping a fence in a vampire dress at eleven at night? Absolutely. Do you care? Not even a little.

Silently thanking the universe that you learned how to hop a fence at a young age, you take your shoes off and throw them over the fence, stepping on the wire and hopping over. As you're getting over the fence, the wire snags your dress and cuts into the meat of your thigh.

The sudden pain causes you to fall over, luckily you hold your arms out to break the fall, but not without tiny rocks and sticks penetrating your skin. "Shit!" You cry, and shakily brush the dirt from your body, hot tears burning at your waterline as you put your shoes back on. This night truly cannot get any worse.

The sound of leaves cracking underneath footsteps interrupts your moment of self-pity, your head darting up faster than the blink of an eye. Your mind races, tears beginning to stream down your hot cheeks as you prepare for the worst.

A relatively shorter figure turns the corner to find you, curled up on the ground with blood trickling down your thigh. "Woah are you okay?" The stranger's low raspy voice speaks from where he stands, slowly stepping forward. "Um.. yeah," you nearly whisper, but the way your voice shakes and cracks proves that you're the opposite of okay.

"Please, let me help," he insists, still taking languid steps to make sure he doesn't startle you. All you can do is nod, accepting your fate. You're never one to trust a stranger, let alone a guy, but you're desperate.

He slowly extends his right arm, patiently holding it out for you. You take his hand, surprisingly calloused fingers holding tightly onto your wrist. "I'm Jacob," he softly grunts as he swiftly pulls you up "Well, Jake."

As you rise to your feet, his face becomes clearer, the moon shining just enough light for you to be able to scan his features. The same man you saw in the house earlier. The first thing you notice is his perfectly plump lips, then his sharp cheekbones, his eyebrows slightly knitted together in worry. The longer you look, the more you fall for him. You absolutely do not believe in love at first sight, but he might just be an exception.

However, you do notice something else. He looks sick.

You brush it off as makeup and pat yourself down "Thank you, I'm Y/N." Jake sends you a tight-lipped grin as you both begin to take steps forward "If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

"Oh, it's stupid. My friends took me here but left me and I know nobody so I snuck out the back," you swipe away the tears from your cheeks and jawline. His eyebrows furrow and he brings his fingers to his chin "So how'd you get all... messy?" You feel his eyes linger on the large cut down your thigh, blood still trickling out.

"Well... I decided I didn't wanna go back in there, so I tried to hop the fence." A hushed chuckle leaves his lips and you start to realize just how dumb you sound, blood quickly rushing to your cheeks. "I know it's dumb I should've just gone through the house..." you trail off, bringing your cold scraped hands up to your hot face.

"Oh darling, I understand," he grasps the metal fence, opening it for you and placing his hand on the small of your back as he follows you out of the front yard. Darling. Replaying the word in your head, your tummy fills with butterflies fluttering around in your tummy. Knock it off. He's a stranger.

"Can you drive?" His hand never leaves its place on your back. "Considering the fact I didn't drink... I'd say yeah," you kick a rock as you both walk away from the house "but I don't have my car." Suddenly it grows eerily silent, and you become aware of a forest ahead. "Good."

"What?" You stop dead in your tracks, turning to face him. "Can I show you something?" He reaches out to grab your wrist, but you dodge. Fear courses through veins, you frantically look around, searching for anyone to be your knight in shining armor.

"Uh.. my friends are probably looking for me," you smile, hesitantly stepping back. "You sure? Because last time I was in there nobody knew who you were..." Jake steps closer to you, his eyes dark and pupils dilated.

Your own eyes widen as you look around you, without much thought you remove your heels and dart off into the woods.

You run and run until you absolutely cannot push yourself any further. Collapsing against a tree, you drop your heels, letting the tree hold your weight as you sob into your hands. For a minute, you believe you've lost him, struggling to catch your breath as sobs leave your body.

You're proven wrong as you hear the crunch of leaves beneath his boots. A sick, gut wrenching fear manifests it's way into your stomach, twisting your insides. Your heart races and tears flow from your eyes like melting wax on a burning candle. At this point, you're ready to give up.

Jake takes slow steps toward you, as he approaches, he brings his hand up to your waist. He firmly squeezes the meat of your waistline, shooting a sharp pain into your side as he pulls you into him. "Look at me," he demands, his voice low and raspy.

You listen, not just out of fear for your life, but also curiosity. Your eyes flick up to his, wide and fearful as they dart across his face. His other hand grabs your hair in a ponytail "I know you're scared baby, I don't blame you."

Silent sobs leave your body in a mix of fear, confusion, anger, and something else you can't quite put your finger on. Jake violently pulls your head to the side, revealing your neck to him "I'm not gonna hurt you, I don't want to. I promise."

You try your best to keep your crying unknown, but it's no use. Your chest bounces and choked noises escape from your lips. Jake lets go of your hair, both of his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. "Oh please, don't cry," he begs, cleaning up your smudged mascara before coming down to lick the tears from your face. Your brows furrow at the act, but you'd be dead lying if you said you didn't half enjoy it.

His face lingers near yours, your eyes darting all over his face. By now, you are strictly breathing in each other's breaths "Do you want to kiss me?" Your breath hitches in your throat at the question, his face inching even closer than before. It's as if your body is betraying you, you're unable to say anything even if you tried.

If you didn't want to, you'd pull away.

Finally, you manage to nod. A small tight-lipped smile plays on his lips "I have something first..." Confusion and anticipation swirl through your head, you quirk an eyebrow as you wait for what's next.

He doesn't speak, instead, bearing his teeth and dragging two pointed teeth along your lower lip. Your eyes widen and your heartbeat speeds to an impossible pace. There's no way.

Slowly and painfully he begins to sink them into the flesh of your red lips just far enough to create two beads of blood. You suck in a quick gasp as he licks the wounds before pressing his lips against yours. A tingly feeling becomes evident in your stomach and you find yourself oddly aroused by the situation.

"Holy shit. Jake. You're-" he cuts you off, his lips crashing against yours.

You lift your arms, grasping onto the back of his head and pushing him into you. The sting of his lips pressing against the fresh cuts on yours is so deliciously painful. Nothing about this is right.

His hands come up to grope your ass, eliciting a desperate whine into his mouth. You pull him even closer, letting him walk you backward into a tree, never breaking contact. The throb between your legs becomes unbearable as you bury your fingers into his scalp and Jake tugs on your hair.

"Y/N, there's a reason I chose you tonight," his hands sneak around your body, smoothing over the swell of your breasts. Jake groans as he feels your stiffened nipples under his palms. "Why's that?" You mutter, your voice hushed and sultry as your hands begin to wander all over his body, your lips pressed to his jawline.

"Because you were the most beautiful thing to walk through that door," he breathes, slotting a knee between your thighs and grasping your waist. You can't help but let out a tiny moan and pull his face towards you, desperately missing the contact. He pulls back, keeping you still against the tree by your waist "The moment I saw you I knew I'd have you." Jake's strength is unbelievable. You cannot move at all, you're all but squirming as you try to touch him.

"Do you want to fuck me, Y/N?"

The question shocks you and before you can think you begin to nod, then shake your head no, then you nod again. As you're granted his mouth on yours, you slip your tongue between his lips, dragging it over his teeth and pricking it on his canine's. Jake hums against your tongue, pulling away and wrapping one hand around your neck "I gotta hear you say it, darling." You swallow thickly against his neck, discomfort creeping up your throat as he gently squeezes.

"Yes," you whine, your fingers massaging his scalp as you try your hardest to kiss him "Please." He licks up your jawline and peppers kisses to the area. You snake your arm down to his abdomen and untuck his shirt, the tips of your fingers creeping up under the fabric.

He drops his hand and a sharp sting burns on your neck, sucking in a loud gasp and clamping your eyes shut as you realize he's biting you. The pain only lasts a few moments before he withdrawals from you, lapping at the wounds.

Suddenly he slaps your hand away from his torso and sinks down, dragging his calloused fingers down your bare thighs. "Jake what are you-" you're shushed, shock coursing through your veins as his hot breath fans over the deep cut on your thigh.

You throw your head back and let out a cry through gritted teeth in agony as he points his tongue, cleaning the blood from your wound.

"Shit! Jake, fuck," You wail, the pain numbing your body and your vision going blurry. After the blood is cleaned, Jake leans back and places kisses to each wound, a sharp pain shooting up your leg at each peck. "You're delicious, love," he praises "and I haven't even gotten to the best part."

A rush of exhilaration surges through your veins, your insides feeling as if they've just burst into flames. "Please," is all you can muster as Jake starts to draw a line of kisses up your thigh and then down the other. "Patience, love."

You roll your eyes dramatically and sigh, your head spinning as you wait for his next move. Jake continues to draw slow lines of pecks all over your legs as his hands find their place under the skirt of your dress. Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest once his cold fingers reach your panties, his hands resting just on top of your hips.

"You're such a good girl. Being so still and quiet for me," Jake speaks through kisses to your legs that are moving higher and higher by the second. You fight the urge to say something, instead letting him lead the way. At this point you're so wound up that just a slight touch to your heat might drive you mad.

His hands slide down, snagging on your thong and tugging them down. "Shit," Jake groans "Lace?" You can't see his face, but you know he's looking up to you, and your cheeks burn up.

"I- it's just- they're the only clean ones I had..." You stammer, tucking your hair away from your face. "Don't lie to me, baby," Jake smooths his hands over your thighs before bringing one up with a slap against your ass. "I'm not. I- I promise," you lie, chewing on your nails.

Jake simply ignores you, pulling your panties down to your ankles and hiking your dress up past your core.

"Oh baby, you just wanted your pretty little pussy to get a little attention tonight, huh?" He taunts you, bringing his thumb up to your slit and collecting juices. A breathy moan slips out of your lips, your hands involuntarily flying to his hair. Just that interaction alone was enough to make you squirm.

"Mhm..." you can't seem to lie any longer, as if he's forcing you to tell the truth. Jake lays a kiss on the very top of your clit, a shock of electricity flowing through your body. "Yeah, how long has it been since someone fucked you right?"

Just as you go to speak, a moan rips through your chest. Jake drags his fingers through your folds, spreading your arousal all over. "I don't- don't know," you whimper as you melt into his touch, throwing your head back into the tree behind you.

Jake continues to tease you, pressing featherlight kisses to your slit. "M'gonna fuck you so good baby," he speaks through kisses down your inner thigh "make you forget anybody you've had before me."

His words only make you ache even more, your clit crying out to be touched. "Then do it, Jake," you whine "please." You hear a low snicker below you, Jake snakes his hands up your thighs and squeezes rather harshly "beg."

"Please Jake, please touch me. Make me forget everyone who came before you. Make me yours, please," you pet his hair as you speak, so incredibly aroused you can't think of anything but Jake's body. "Atta girl," he whispers lowly, a groan rumbling out from his chest as he breathes over your throbbing cunt.

Jake brings himself incredibly close to your heat, at this point, you're so aroused it's almost painful. Jake begins to kitten lick your incredibly hard clit, and you fight the incredible urge to push his face into you. "So fucking wet," Jake groans, your arousal glistening in the moonlight. "Jake, please... I- I can't," you cry, unable to wait any longer.

Without warning, Jake sucks your clit into his mouth. "Oh- oh fuck," you throw your head back, involuntarily bucking your hips. The velvety feeling of his tongue swirling around your clit as he hums against you is pure pleasure. Just as you get used to his mouth on you, his fingers come up to toy with your entrance, a loud desperate moan tumbling out of your lips.

You're so focused on the pleasure, that you nearly forget that you're in the middle of a forest "Somebody's gonna hear you, baby.." Your head begins to spin once again as you imagine someone hearing you, finding yourself suddenly enjoying yourself even more. "Fuck. You're filthy," Jake speaks lowly with a grin just before continuing his attack on your clit, still just teasing your entrance.

The feeling of his calloused fingers toying with your weeping cunt as his tongue circles around your swollen clit draws you closer and closer to the edge. Your head hangs down as your arms instinctively fly to his head, gently pushing him into you. Jake fights against your hands, a weak whimper flying out of your mouth as he shoves two fingers into you.

"Don't do that," he nips at your thigh "Be a good girl and put your hands behind your back for me." His fingers never stop, viciously ramming up into you as he speaks. You do just as he commanded, reluctantly holding your hands behind your back and struggling to stay inconspicuous.

Jake starts to kitten lick your swollen clit, choked moans fall from your lips as you feel your orgasm approach. Your knees buckle and you writhe against him, his fingers curling up and hitting every single spot just right.

"Oh fuck- right there.. right there," you whine, squirming above him. Just then, he pulls his fingers from you and brings them to his mouth. You let out a cry at the loss of your approaching climax, watching in disbelief as he licks your juices clean from his hand. A guttural groan bubbles up from deep within his chest at the taste, and for a fleeting moment you swear you saw his eyes glow a dark crimson red.

"What the fuck?" You whine, your brows furrowed as he rises to his feet. Jake brings his face to your ear and licks at your neck, his hot breath feeling as if it's burning into your skin "I wanna make you fall apart. Wanna make you so fucking wet for me. I know what I'm doing, just trust me, baby."

You have no choice but to trust him, afraid that if you say something you'll be robbed of the perfect orgasm again. You don't know what to do, your heart pounding in anticipation as his lips drag along your neck. "I want you to take me," he whispers between heavy breaths "Take me right here. Like the fucking slut I know you are."

Your heart skips a beat and you hear your heartbeat in your ears "You're so fucking good. Touch me, darling. Do whatever you please with me." Your stomach flutters, your arms moving before you can even think about what you're doing.

Your fingers find his pants, tracing the hem with your index finger before slightly dipping it in. With your other arm, you pull him into you and smash your lips against his. Impatiently unzipping his pants, you push them down as soon as you get the chance.

You don't even try to hold back or act calm, you're finally getting what you so desperately want. Anticipation courses through your veins as your fingers dance along the hem of his boxers, a deep groan tumbling from his lips and into your mouth once you dip two fingers in.

Your cold fingers nearly burn against his skin, your other arm still wrapped around him and buried deep in the tresses of his hair. Finally, you manage to wrap your hand around him, a deep moan escaping your mouth as you feel him pulsate against you.

You push his boxers down, meeting his pants at his feet. Another deep groan rumbles up from his chest as his cock springs free, his tip brushing against the fabric of your dress. Without a second thought, you drop to your knees, your hands instantly coming up to fondle his base.

Jake sucks in a sharp breath, obviously very pleasantly surprised. The ache between your legs grows even more as you hold him in both of your hands. He has the most perfect cock. He's the perfect length and girth, more than enough to fill you up completely.

Knocking yourself out of the trance his cock has you in, you spit on his length and start to stroke him at a painfully slow pace. You'd get him back for earlier, for robbing you of what you needed so badly.

Jake's hips begin to buck into your hand as you continue that same pace from earlier, desperate groans bubbling up from his chest. "Fuck- I'm not stupid," Jake murmurs, sending another involuntary thrust of his hips into your hand.

You ignore his statement, a devilish smile playing on your lips as you begin to tug on him, your thumb brushing over his slit. Breathy moans flow freely from his mouth in a mix of frustration and pleasure. You come down to draw a line of kisses down his length, lifting him slightly to lick a stripe up to his tip from underneath.

You don't break contact with him, continuing to tease his tip with kisses and kitten licks all while stroking him as slow as you possibly can. You nearly break him, slight noises spewing from his mouth as he continues to fuck himself into your hand harder and sloppier.

That is until he digs his fingers into your scalp, grabbing a bunch of hair and pulling you back. Tears prick at your waterline as he begins to pull you up by your hair, a loud yelp slipping past your swollen lips. "You fucking whore," Jake growls, letting go of your hair and pulling you into him by your waist with an iron-clad grasp.

"Please," you whimper, taking the opportunity to grind your body against his. Without another word, he's flipping you around with a grunt and throwing you into the tree. You throw your arms out and catch yourself on the tree, your palms throbbing as you scrape them even more.

A moan rips through your chest and for some sick reason, you find yourself even more turned on than before, if it's possible. "Fuck, baby. You like that? Do you like being hurt?" Jake's upper body is flush against your back, a chill sneaking up your body as he whispers in your ear.

You've never considered yourself a masochist, let alone someone who enjoys pain in general, but for Jake, you might be. Before you can fully process the question, you frantically nod your head. Jake presses his palm against your back, pushing you down and forcing you to bend over.

Your back arches slightly, allowing yourself to put on a show for him as you swivel your hips. The anticipation is too much, the feeling of his rough hands hiking up your dress and smoothing over your ass sending you into a frenzy. "You wanna be fucked so bad don't you pretty?" He slaps your ass, the other hand coming around your body and finding your heat.

"You're so fucking wet for me," Jake snarls, bending slightly to whisper in your ear. "M'gonna make you mine," his voice is low and gravely, a whine leaving your lips at the statement.

You hang your head as you wait, the throb between your legs becoming impossible to ignore. Jake's hand is still toying with your soaked pussy, his rough fingers running through your incredibly slick folds. "Jacob..."

"What is it?" He knows exactly what you want, simply just teasing to worsen your suffering. "Jake please," you whimper, trying your very best to keep calm "Make me yours." You hear a deep snicker from behind you, a shock of electricity flowing through your body as he begins to drag his tip through your cunt.

You push yourself back onto him, not at all expecting him to push into you. "Oh fuck," you cry, feeling every inch of him as he so deliciously stretches you out. "Shit- you feel so fucking good," he snarls, his hips faltering slightly as he begins to find the perfect rhythm.

Jake's hand comes in contact with your clit, sending your head flying back with a string of hushed curses at the feeling. He doesn't hold back, the skin of his thighs clashing with the backs of yours, the hand not toying with your sensitive clit slapping your ass before returning to its place on your hip.

The pattern Jake has set is so rough yet so sweet. His hips roll as they thrust into you relentlessly while his other hand babies your swollen bud. "Do you like this?" Jake grunts, punctuating each word with an intoxicating thrust.

"Like- fuck- like what?" You stutter, pushing yourself with your hands to fuck yourself back onto him even harder. "Being treated like a slut out here in the open," he growls "Anyone can walk in and see us. Anyone can hear you moan for me like a little whore."

His words mixed with the rhythm of his hips and the way his fingers dance along your clit elicit sick noises you didn't even know you could make. "Mhm..." You moan, clawing at the bark of the tree to keep yourself as quiet as possible.

"Tell me how much you love it, darling," he rasps, and you can tell it's getting harder for him to form sentences. The hand at your hip finds its way to your neck, squeezing ever so gently and pulling you up into him.

You fail to form a sentence, his hand squeezing harder than before "go on, say it." All that comes out as you open your mouth is a pathetic squeal, bringing one hand off the tree to grasp the wrist around your throat.

"I love it, Jake," a cry of pleasure falling past your lips as he delivers a particularly sharp thrust into you "It's so fucking hot." His cock lit the embers deep within you, a fire sparking in your core as he buries himself so far inside you.

His hand keeps its grip around your throat, the other still teasing your clit. "Oh, fuck!" You nearly shout, your thighs aching as you continue to fuck yourself onto him every chance you get. "You're a noisy little thing aren't you?" Jake grunts with every thrust, his hips beginning to falter.

You respond with an involuntary high-pitched moan, rolling your hips against his fingers. The fire inside you grows, flames dancing throughout your body and spreading to every limb. It's clear he loved to hear you, fucking harder into you with every peep from your mouth.

It felt almost as if he was made for you. As if he'd fucked you a thousand times before. You don't know if you could live without it after tonight.

Your eyes rolled back into your head, choked moans and squeals flowing freely from your lips. "You're so fucking hot," Jake rasps "so fucking warm and tight around my cock baby."

At this point you know you won't last much longer, the fire burning inside you beginning to violently dance around every inch of your body and the coil in your tummy tightening. "Jake I'm gonna-" you interrupt yourself with a near shriek, completely blocking out your surroundings and focusing on nothing but Jake.

"You gonna cum, pretty? You gonna make a mess all over my cock?" He struggles to get the sentence out, his cock ramming so far into you it's nearly touching your cervix. "Yes. I'm so close..." It's getting harder and harder for you to breathe, Jake's hand keeping still against your throat.

"Fuck- cum for me, baby. C'mon," Jake coos, his hand rubbing rough, merciless circles into your clit as his cock hits a sweet spot with each and every thrust.

He feels like pure heaven, the sinful way he fucks so hard into you driving you straight to the edge. Your eyes clamp shut as you feel your orgasm creep up "fuck! Oh my god, fuck me." Suddenly, like harsh waves crashing against a shore, your orgasm fully takes over.

"That's it, baby. Fuck. Cum for me, just like that," Jake groans, delivering one final sharp thrust before his hot release spurts into you, painting your walls in ivory slick.

Jake's got you reduced to nothing but a whimpering, panting mess, and you love it.

It takes you a moment to come back to earth, Jake's cock still buried deep inside you. "You're such a good girl," his hands leave their place, coming to rest on the swell of your ass. You try to respond, but nothing comes out.

Jake lifts a hand and forces it down against your ass, the pads of his fingers massaging the supple flesh. A loud yelp flies last your lips at the contact, your body jutting forward.

"M'gonna pull out, okay?" He smooths his hand over the red skin of the back of your thighs, soothing the sting. You manage to mumble out an 'okay', clamping your eyes shut and practically holding your breath.

Sucking in a hiss, he pulls out, juices immediately dripping down your thigh. His hands grasp your waist, spinning you around to face him. "Touch yourself. Clean yourself up for me."

Your eyes blow wide at the command, but you do as he says anyway. Your clit is still wildly overstimulated, a whimper leaving your mouth at the slightest touch. You collect juices with your fingers, painfully spreading them all around your core.

"Jake I- I can't," you whine, your knees buckling as you press your fingers against your clit, your other arm grasping at the back of his neck for support. "Yes, you can. C'mon, be a good little slut," he presses, coming down to lay open-mouth kisses against your neck.

A cry leaves your lips, that same fire sparking again as you shove two fingers inside your entrance. Jake grabs your arm, pulling your fingers from yourself and bringing it to his lips. Slowly, he takes them into his mouth, his saliva cleaning the juices completely off your fingers.

"So fucking good. Now get on your knees," Jake demands "lick it off."

Again, you do as he says, sinking to your knees and grasping the base of his cock. You drag your tongue along his length from base to tip, licking every inch and making sure you got every last drop. "Atta girl."

Jake slowly helps you up, pressing your back against the tree and smashing his lips against yours. "Does it taste good baby?" Jake growls between kisses, massaging his fingers into your scalp. "Mhm," you whine, your arms wrapping around his body before he pulls back completely.

The two of you simply just look into each other's faces, breathing in the sweet taste and smell of sex that lingers in the air. "Let me take you home."

You simply just nod, Jake pulling his clothes back on as you grab your heels and slide your damp panties off your body. "So.. how does this work?"

"What?" Jake looks to you as the two of you begin walking back to the party.

"The whole... Vampire.. thing..." You trail off, looking down at the leaves crunching beneath both of your feet. You hear him chuckle to himself, amused by your curiosity.

"Y'know it's crazy how much people get wrong," he takes your hand in his "it's not a big deal, really. But if I go too long without specific needs, it could hurt me."

The two of you reach the entrance of the forest, street lights flickering along the road. When you look at him, he looks a lot more alive, significantly less tired and sick than earlier. "So... what, you feed with blood? That's kinda.. basic."

"Something like that, yeah. That and sex, basically," Jake laughs through his words, inching closer and closer to the party. "Sex?" You giggle, looking at him. "Yeah.. is something wrong with that?"

The two of you reach his car "No... I just didn't expect it." Jake opens the door for you, letting you slip in before shutting it and rounding the car to get in the driver's side.

"It's basically like.. energy feeding? It's hard to explain."

---

"So you don't turn to dust in the sunlight?" You both laugh. "No. I don't even know where that came from.."

Jake's car slows to a stop "This it?" Apparently, you'd lost track of time because as you look out your window, you see your house. "Mhm," you get out of the car, walking up to the steps of your home and letting Jake meet you there.

He pulls you into a kiss "I hope you had fun tonight, darling." A large smile finds its way on your face "I did."

"Hey, uh... How can I see you again?"

"I was hoping you'd say that." Jake reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a piece of paper with his number already on it, and holding it out to you with a smile "Call me when you get lonely."

.

.

.

[ewingstan]

So various philosophers who play in the space of personal identity use a concept called quasi-memories, or "q-memories." Basically, these are memories that you have that someone lived through, though that someone may not have been you. If a ghost passed through you and you suddenly shared its recollection of a war battle, you wouldn't be remembering it (because it didn't happen to you), but you would be q-remembering it (because its a memory belief you have that did happened to someone). Notably all your actual memories are q-memories, since the requirement is just that it corresponds in the usual way memories do to an experience someone had, that someone could be you. But so are memories transplanted from someone else to you, the memories a perfect clone of you would have corresponding to "your" life, the memories a fused being would have of any of the beings it was formed from, etc. Its a good way of discussing the psychologies of beings over time without assuming they share identity.

Parfit makes the case that q-memories are among the important psychological connections that make up the sense of self we actually care about. Its because I have memories of my past self that I care about my past self (and think of them as my past self in a robust sense); the reason I might not feel a strong connection to my past infant self is because I don't share any memories with them. Whereas, if I suddenly split in two with each half sharing the same q-memories, each would have an equal claim to being a continuation of my old self.

More interesting for our purposes is a point Derek Parfit brings up somewhat offhandedly: "If I knew that I could q-remember other people's experiences, these beliefs would come to me in a more guarded form: for example, 'Someone—probably I—did that.' I might have to workout who it was." (Personal Identity, 1971). I imagine that, for just the same reasons memories are important for creating a sense of self I can identify with over time, someone who experienced q-memories from other people would have their sense of identity absolutely shattered.

Imagine it: you wake up, and find that you've passively absorbed the memories of everyone in your apartment block. You remember that you need to make it to your son's violin recital, grimacing at the thought of making him cry again like he did last time. You also remember that the kid is your neighbor's son, and that you've been annoyed for weeks by the sound of him practicing above your kitchen. You sit for a minute to work out if your the parent or the neighbor. This apartment your in only has the one bedroom, so its a safe bet that its not your kid.

You get up to make some bacon (your favorite breakfast food) but have to throw them away once the smell gets to you (you couldn't keep meat down since that visit to the abattoir in 6th grade). You look up at the mirror and step back in shock, thinking thats not right—and then stagger, as you remember 10 different faces that should be yours.

You grab your keys, thankful that the electronic keyfob will let you hear which car is yours. You pass a man in the hall. You feel crushing guilt—you've been cheating on him for two months now. You feel uncanny shock—you're looking at yourself! You feel annoyance—that tenant's been more insistent on getting the law involved over maintenance issues, and that might reveal how you've been using unlicensed contractors to skirt costs.

As you get in the car and try to remember which place you remember working is the one you work at, you wonder if you even need to go to work at all. After all, you suddenly know the lies and secrets of everyone in the building. It would take some time to work out whose lies and secrets they are, but still: You could sit back and live passively on the blackmail money. Almost as soon as the thought occurs to you, you're overtaken with panic. You remember all the panic everyone's felt over being discovered—you cant let anyone know your secrets!

Derek Parfit really missed his real calling of coming up with fucked up Thinker powergens. Or pitching short story ideas to Borges.

[firstprincehornyramblings]

Hello everyone! I'm getting a start early, by queueing this post for tomorrow morning, look at me go. Thank you who much to @tailsbeth-writes for the tag <3 I have ... 3 wips again, because I have no self control, so we're doing all of this under the cut, because it's gonna be long, and maybe a lil nsfw <3 LET'S GOOOOOOOO.

------ George Villier's inner dialogue during an Orgy (that's the working title on this, please bare with)

It wasn’t that George had always been this way, but an ascension into power had nurtured his hedonism prone nature. If he was to be blessed with the gift of beauty, he would take all the power and pleasure that came with it. He’d earned it after all, his bed of lovers, his social standing, influence, and wealth. Each a result of unsavory acts; but that made them so much more deserved, did it not? He could have anything he wanted, like a god among men, and so he should be worshipped the same. Though he was more than content with devotion in the form of flesh; he’d certainly used his own body as currency often enough. Even now, anything that wasn’t handed to him willingly, with a brush of lips, or a clandestine slip to knees, could become his. That in itself was testament to all he’d done, that his willing submission was as effective a bargaining tool as his power.

WATERSPORTS FIRSTPRINCE (aka, Alex is funny and Henry has a weak bladder)

“You… think it’s- what?” Henry choked out, “You think it’s hot that I pissed myself in the middle of our kitchen? Is that your idea of a joke?” “I-” the brunette could feel his own cheeks heating up now, “It’s not a joke, I do, I’m sorry, but I do,” he managed after a moment. “Oh,” the blond’s eyes shot straight down to the shorts Alex had on, falling on the visible hardness there, “Oh,” he repeated, but with much more understanding this time. There were still tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall, but he was visibly less mortified, “Alex, that is so disgusting...” “I know, shit baby, I’m s-” “I can get into it.” “What?” “I said, I can get into it,” Henry repeated, “Well, honestly, I could probably get into anything that makes your cock hard, because- well frankly I reap the benefits of that. Would you like to fuck my throat?”

AND A NEW WIP, Hairstylist Henry and his least (read as favorite) Client Alex

“Alright, tilt your head back,” both of Henry’s hands rested on Alex’s temples, carefully moving the other man’s head into the perfect place, “Do you want me to stop under the jawline?” “Whatever you think looks best, sweetheart.” Normally, Henry would hate that, some businessman using a pet name on him. But usually it felt demeaning, when Alex did it, it felt genuine, perhaps that was why he didn't mind it. He would rather accept that than admit it might have something to do with how hot his cheeks felt or how his stomach flip flopped. Instead, he chose to focus on something else, like the familiar but luxurious scent becoming more evident the closer he was to Alex. “Santal 33?” the blond asked, running the trimmers over the other man’s jawline, making careful precise lines that would accentuate the sharp angles there. “Yeah,” impressively, Alex had answered that without much movement of his face; Henry was astonished. “Makes sense.” “What is that supposed to mean?” this time, the brunette moved, but he did have the mind to wait until Henry was running the trimers along his throat with less chance of Alex’s jolt messing up something. “It means you look like someone who has good taste, don’t move.” “You’re worse than a dentist,” Alex grumbled. “Stop moving, christ you’re an absolute menace, I’m going to slice your throat open.” “With an electric trimmer?” “I’m certain if I make enough effort, I just may be able to pull it off,” Henry snapped.

OKAY, that was a long one, if you stuck around thank u I love u. TAG LINE UP!!!!

@taste-thewaste @eusuntgratie @henrysfox @thighzp

@softboynick @catdadacd @sheepywritesfics @henryspearl

@basil-bird @caressthosecheekbones @henfox @onthewaytosomewhere + literally anyone else I'm sleepy and forgot, or anyone who sees this and wants to tag me, I love reading yall's stuff. <3

[bugsmunched]

Cute little dating Argyle HCs that are in my brain

He does not give a flying fuck about your body type. Like he actually could not physically care less. He thinks you're the most perfect thing in the world regardless. He spends so much of his time with his hands wandering over your body, but not really in a sexual manner. He caresses every curve of your body, traces every scar and stretch mark, kisses every blemish, and traces hearts on every part of your body. You got a big stomach? He loves cuddling you from behind and grabbing onto it gently. Small ass? Big ass? Doesn't matter. He will gently cup it when making out. He always tells you how perfect you are, and treats you like you were crafted by the gods.

he also, again regardless of body type, loves having you in his lap. Just having his arms around you and you being so close to him makes him so happy. Maybe he's sitting in a chair at his house and you're sitting in his lap while he does schoolwork. He absolutely loves it. And if you're self conscious about weighing too much? He will (playfully but still meaning it) scold you for thinking badly about yourself and then trap you on his lap so you can't leave.

This man is like a little crow and gives you little trinkets that make him think of you. Little bottle caps, rocks, cool looking sticks, lighters, buttons, keys, and so much more. He will also spend all his leftover money on things for you. Like jewelry. He LOVES seeing you wear things that he bought you. It's his little form of marking you. His favorite to give is rings. There are several on chains that you wear as necklaces because they're too big/small, but you wear them nonetheless.

He also loves making pizzas for you. When you first get to know him, he gives you all kinds of pizzas to learn your pallet. He learns all about your likes and dislikes of flavors and combinations. Then he constantly surprises you with free pizzas that you absolutely love because he just knows you so well. (there have been a few misses, but he always makes it up to you with the next pizza)

He will buy two of the most obnoxious, bright, and colorful shirts so you guys can match. He loves matching with you even if no one knows that you're matching.

He will also do the same with socks. He wants to match obnoxious socks with you.

He will get little pictures of you and put them everywhere. In his wallet, in the mirror of his van, on his wall, everywhere so he can just see you all the time. They're also specifically pictures of you smiling because there is nothing he loves more than seeing you smile. Your smile never fails to turn an awful day into a fantastic one. He would even get a locket with your picture in it because he doesn't care, he wants to be able to see that amazing smiling face of yours whenever he wants. (which is all the time)

He loves smoking with you, but if you don't like smoking, he would never pressure you. He would also make sure that you're okay with him smoking around you and if you're not he'll be so careful as to never smoke around you. If you are okay with it, he'll try not to do it right next to you. But if you also smoke? You sit on his lap, facing him as the two of you pass the blunt back and forth, hot boxing the van, a hazy fog filling the air.

He loves it when you play with his hair. He's fallen asleep in your lap because you always play with his hair when he's resting his head in your lap. It's just so soothing to him.

He does not shut up about you, to anyone. You're his favorite person, so he tells everyone about every little thing you've ever done. Jonathan is kind of sick of it, but he's just happy that his friend has someone that he loves so much.

He is the king of nose kisses. He constantly kisses your nose and also rubs your noses together to show affection. He just loves it so much and thinks it's so close.

He is also an acts of service man. But it's little things like tying your shoes, or putting your hair up for you. He loves being helpful.

Anyway. I'm thinking so much about this delightful man. 🩷