#of course within boundaries and using safe words always

[prettyboyfinley]

I just need someone too worship

I need to be a good boy for someone, on my knees doing anything they ask.

Anything they want I’ll do just so that I can be a good boy for them

Just to feel them run their hand through my hair, maybe even tug it a little when I get distracted by looking at them.

[moontopuff]

YOU'VE CHOSEN: FRED WEASLEY

WHEN HE REALIZED HE LIKES YOU

it was probably on one of your shared classes with Gryffindor

person from your house gave the answer, and didn't get points, when person from gryffindor gave the same answer, just louder, and got points. That made your friend upset and you - super annoyed. Because you *really* didn't like unfairness. So, you speak up, and from word to word, discussion between you and professor took nearly whole lesson. And in the end your friend also got points, so hurray!

nonetheless, that's when Fred realized that "bloody hell, that just made my heart race", and since that day, he started to look at you differently. not like a friend, but more.

CRUSHING ON YOU:

Fred isn't as secretive as his twin. after he realized he had a crush on you, he started talking about you non.stop. And it was only the beginning of his crushing stage!

earlier, he just liked spending time with you, but now? now he’d find any reason to spend time with you. even if it's not your best day, and you're all grumpy, and snappy, he just wants to be next to you, ya know?

reliazed that you're too used to his teasing and flirting, so he decided o try different approach; touches! Of course within your boundaries, but brushing hands or shoulders while walking, pushing hair from your face and accidentally touching your skin, first making you nearly fall, so he can then catch you and help you up. He's very creative, so beware!

started calling you "love" & darling "isn't it our darling Puff waiting for us?" "Don't be snake, love, share your notes with your friend??"

he was a talkative man, as always, but now that he likes you he's talking even more. like, just babbling a lot, and checking if you listen to him and if u like said topic

goes out of his way to always say hello to you first. and often is kinda dramatic with it like:

"Puffie!" said Fred, elbowing some Gryffon out of the way and bowing deeply to you with the biggest grin,"Simply splendid to see you, love"

He gives you little things to drop hints, like your favourite sweets from Honeydukes, or that [plant/flower/herbs] you always talk about, just because its so happened that he saw one (yeah, not that he was searching for it more than a hour, noooo)

when you compliment him, he blushes but pretends that it's not real: "aww, stop, you're embarrassing me~"

"accidentally" blowing warm breaths across your ear, just to see your reaction (loves seeing your pink cheeks)

wherever you're in quidditch team or not, you and Fred have this kind of rivalry between houses before game like "we will win, this time Freddie~" "in your dreams, love!" but not an arrogant one, it's just... full of romantic tension, ya know?

so yeah, people may start shipping you two. you brush it off, but see that Fred is weirdly proud of being shipped with you...? "huh.."

CONFESSING TO YOU

he was (mostly) confident that you like him back. but! he had so many ideas of different ways to confess to you, that he didn't know which one to choose

so that's kinda way it took him longer than expected

and the funniest thing? In the end, he confessed without thinking about it!

It was late evening after detention, and you were both tired. George had run off with Jordan, leaving you and Fred in the Gryffindor common room. “Too tired, man/George,” you both muttered at the same time at their invitation to join, chuckling softly as you sank into the couch. You tried not to fall asleep, reminding yourself this wasn’t your dormitory, while Fred dozed off beside you, his head resting on your shoulder. You smiled to yourself, happy that he feels safe and comfortable with you, His weight was warm and comforting. You couldn’t help but glance at him every so often, his soft breathing distracting and relaxing at the same time. You kept reading your book until Fred stirred, suddenly sitting up and blinking around groggily. His eyes found yours, and you asked if he was alright. Instead of answering, he smiled sweetly, leaned in, and kissed the corner of your mouth. “Thanks for being alive,” he mumbled sleepily before resting his head on your thighs, slipping back into slumber. You froze, heart racing. What just happened? Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked down at him, completely still except for the rise and fall of his chest. You barely knew what to do, your mind blank for a moment, as your fingers gently began to run through his hair. He didn’t move, completely lost in sleep, but your mind was racing. What had just happened? The next morning, Fred was waiting outside the Hufflepuff common room, looking unusually nervous. His hands fidgeted in his pockets, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. “Um, hi?” he greeted, his voice a bit unsure. You smiled. “Hi, Fred.” “So, I guess you already know my feelings…?” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Or, can I confess again?” He finished with an uncertain grin that made your heart skip. Without a word, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, whispering that you liked him too. Fred laughed, nearly squeezing the air out of you in pure joy, lifting you off your feet for a moment before setting you back down gently.

later he told you about all the different ways in which he wanted to ask you out, and honestly, you were grateful that it didn't come to that…

YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH HIM

giving you compliments or "love you's" at random times a day, every day. he just want to make sure that you know how perfect you are in his eyes

purposefully hiding your stuff when you're hanging out in Gryffindor common room, so you will have to come back to him

getting random, surprise kisses here and there, because he loves seeing your blushing face (even in class, honestly!)

him booping your side when you're hanging out and he's bored "at least give me your attention, love~!" he would whine at you

lot's of you playing with his hair, and him playing with your fingers, when you're hanging out with others

and his contented grins when you run your hand through his hair when you two are alone (he can be very vocal...)

but yeah, he also likes using you as an armchair

tutoring him!

although he gets easily distracted, be it by his own thoughts, other students or you

You rolled your eyes, trying to focus on the textbook in front of you, but Fred's lips were brushing your knuckles again, his soft kisses trailing up your arm. "Fred..." you muttered, swatting him gently. He let out a playful whine, resting his chin on his hands, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m trying to help you study,” you added, poking his side with an annoyed expression. You loved him, but he can be a lot sometimes. Fred just grinned wider, staring at you like you hung the stars. “I can’t help it, you’re too beautiful.” You blushed, kinda startled by his words, fiddling with the sleeve of your jumper. “My hair’s a mess and there’s a stain on this.” “Like I said,” Fred leaned in closer, whispering against your hair, “most beautiful girl here.” You groaned softly, face burning as you buried it in your hands. “Stop it, stupid.” Fred chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Alright, alright, I’ll behave. For you.”

you’re probably the center of his cocky jokes or while he's teasing others. but don't worry, he always paints you like the sexiest, most awesome goddess ever

often pulls you into his lap, just because

you don't mind, because it's nice being pressed to his chest, and listening to his voice up close

and he likes having you this close, and be able to smell your scent, that calms him down

would have random, weird ideas, that he wants to do with you

"Can we do something fun?" Fred asked, leaning against the common room table, his grin as wide as ever. You raised an eyebrow, not even bothering to look up from your parchment. "Like what?" "Just please say yes?" He shot you a charming grin. "It won't harm you aaand—you get a free makeout session tonight. Hmm?" You couldn’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes at his absurd bribe. “Fine, yes. Whatever you're planning.” The next morning, as you walked through the halls of Hogwarts, you tugged at your collar, now adorned with Fred’s bright Gryffindor tie. Glancing over, you saw Fred proudly sporting your yellow Hufflepuff one. He walked over to you, greeting you with a quick kiss. “I look dashing, don’t I?” Fred smirked proudly adjusting the tie with way too much enthusiasm. "You look ridiculous," you muttered, biting back a laugh. But as you glanced at him, you realized that he was showing off that he was yours, proudly wearing your house colors like a badge of honor. You leaned closer and gave him a light peck on the lips, lingering just a little longer than usual. “You really just wanted everyone to know we’re together, didn’t you?” Fred’s grin softened, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Maybe... I am the proud boyfriend of the most amazing Hufflepuff, after all.” Blushing at his words, you couldn’t help but bury your face in his shoulder, whispering, “Since when you are so soft?” Fred chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You're my only exception.”

him sending you playfull kisses during his quiditch games

and overall just him being distracted by you during games

but as it turns out, he has divided attention so it works, and he still is an awesome in the game

sweaty hugs after the game, which he knows you don't particularly like, but he gives you ones anyway, because he loves you and want to celebrate with you, or needs you to hug him after not winning

him sometimes being slightly jealous, because a) why there are so many animals in Hufflepuff common room and b) why are you giving them attention (and kisses) more than him!?

and he always gets weirdly excited when you swear or get like *really* annoyed, saying that it's hot of you

and as with Geroge, as Fred's partner, you're making it to the stadium of Molly's favourite in-laws, placing you next to Harry & Hermione!

overall, lots of love, teasing and being silly and happy together

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

If you would like to read again how you met twins and how friendship with them looked like: [Click]

If you decided to change the twin: [George Weasley route]

[chvoswxtch]

hi um so this is like my first time making a request, like ever. I’m not even sure if this is where I’m supposed to put a request. So I’m really nervous but this idea has been in my head for weeks and I need it to be brought to life? Idk but can I request Matt Murdock with a sort of shy reader? Where he tells her about his abilities and daredevil and everything (established relationship) and she doesn’t really care as long as he’s safe but she has something in her mind and he notices and keeps asking and basically she has a question about his senses, specifically his taste and idk if you know but Matt can canonically know ALL of the ingredients of anything just from a taste and she basically wants to make him taste a bunch of stuff and tell her the ingredients of it so she can make them? I know this is probably WAY too specific so feel free to completely ignore this, I just wanted to get it out.

hi my darling!

so I actually read this request right before going to the grocery store, and while I was looking through produce, it made me think about how matt would absolutely know which produce was the freshest and which ones to avoid. I kinda mixed that in with your idea about being able to tell exactly what ingredients were in something, and I hope this is close to what you were looking for! <3

warnings: tooth rotting fluff and matt being a lil shit word count: 1.3k

lemons.

“Not that one.”

You hand instantly stilled over a lemon that your fingertips had already grazed over. Glancing at Matt over your shoulder, a crease formed between your brows while you looked back down at it.

“What do you mean? This one is perfect-”

“It’s not ripe enough.”

“But…it’s so yellow, like sunshine yellow.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Matt’s lips when he felt the way your own pursed into a bit of a confused pout. It was something you always did when you were intensely focused on something, and he found it endearing. Reaching his hand out, he used the pad of his thumb to smooth away the furrow that had creased in the middle of your forehead, and his soft smile curled up into a light smirk catching the flush of heat that immediately coursed through the tops of your cheeks.

“Well, I’m sure it’s a very pretty lemon, but it doesn’t taste ripe.”

Ever since Matt had told you the truth about his vigilante identity and his abilities, you’d had countless questions. You wouldn’t voice them at first, almost as if you were afraid to cross some invisible boundary that Matt might have, but he knew you, and he knew how to dismantle that shy exterior of yours. From the moment the two of you first met, you had been overly polite and accommodating about his disability, but not in a way that made him uncomfortable. You didn’t walk on eggshells around him or call any extra attention to his blindness. In fact, the way you interacted with him was so seamless, it was almost like it came second nature.

If you guys were grabbing coffee with Karen and Foggy, you would automatically place the raw sugar packets within his reach because you knew he preferred it to the artificial sweeteners. If the four of you went to check out a new lunch spot, you always called ahead to check if they had a menu in braille and made sure Matt was given one. There were so many little things you did to make him feel included and normal. It was part of why he fell so hard for you.

You never asked about the origin of his blindness, and even after he opened up and told you about his accident, you were reserved with your questions. He could tell you were curious, and he wanted you to ask. He wanted you to know things about him. You were a bit of a wallflower, and Matt could always feel you silently observing him, but he wanted you to understand him. He quickly realized he would have to flat out grant you permission to be nosey, and so he did.

Out of everyone he had revealed his Daredevil secret to, you had taken it the best. He didn’t know if he would ever get over the surprise of just how well you handled it. You didn’t get angry or yell at him. You didn’t call him a liar or a traitor, or ask him if he was faking his blindness; all reactions he expected. You just sat there in pure confusion, and you were silent for so long, Matt was panicked that he’d sent you into a state of shock. When it finally settled in that it wasn’t a joke, your brows knit together, and Matt could feel the way your face contorted into an expression of irritation when you flat out asked him if he was crazy. The memory of that night never failed to make him smile.

“Um…well, I mean…not in the traditional sense-”

“Matthew, what the hell are you thinking running around on rooftops, going after guys with guns and knives with…sticks? How do you even do that?”

“They’re batons, actually. Look it’s hard to explain, but I have heightened senses that help me-”

“Are those super senses going to keep you out of prison? Because that’s where you’re going if you get caught. What was the point of going hundreds of thousands of dollars into debt for law school if you were just going to wind up a prison cell for doing backflips off buildings in your underwear?”

“Heightened senses. And it’s not underwear. Underwear is comfortable.”

There hadn’t been a hint of anger in your voice. Annoyance, sure, but mainly concern. All you wanted was for Matt to be safe, and he did his best to assure you that he would be. Matt went into as much detail as he could to help you understand his abilities, and the more comfortable you got with asking him things, the more you learned.

Like how he could tell exactly what ingredients were in the lemon bread at the cafe down the street from your apartment that you loved so much, which was currently the reason behind your little trip to the store at the moment. All it took was one bite of the bread, and he knew exactly how to replicate it.

Apparently he could also tell when lemons were at their peak.

Reaching into the pile of lemons, Matt grasped the one that was in perfect condition to him and held it out towards you. Taking the lemon in your hand, you gave it a light squeeze, noticing that it was firm to the touch but easily gave into the gentle force of your fingers testing its density. 

“Feel the rind.”

Following Matt’s instructions, you brushed your thumb along the bright yellow rind. It was smooth to the touch, and somewhat glossy as it nearly reflected the brightness of the overhead lighting in the grocery store. 

“It’s shiny.”

Matt chuckled at your response and lightly nodded his chin in your direction.

“What else?”

“It’s smooth.”

“It’s perfectly ripe. The zest on this one is the freshest. It has the most flavor, and the right amount of juice.”

Arching one of your brows, you stared up at Matt curiously while still faintly squeezing the lemon in your hand.

“You can tell how much juice is in this just by touching it?”

A grin stretched across Matt’s lips, showcasing his dazzling teeth and causing indents to appear in his cheeks. His thick brows rose slightly above the rim of his crimson glasses.

“Are you doubting me, sweetheart?”

“No I’m just…still trying to figure out how you do…what you do.”

A bashful twinge of heat coated your cheeks once again, and Matt thought it was adorable that you diverted your attention back to the lemon shyly to avoid his gaze even though he couldn’t see your reaction. He reached out to tenderly brush his knuckles along the warmth in your cheeks while he smiled in your direction. 

“I’ll try to do better at explaining. Now c’mon, we have more ingredients to get. You know, I think this bread is gonna turn out so well, the one at the cafe might not meet your standards anymore.”

The confidence in Matt’s voice caught your attention, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips. Sometimes you forgot that your boyfriend was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen that everyone was so afraid of. If only they knew that he spent his Saturdays sniffing out ingredients at the grocery store like a bloodhound to help his girlfriend recreate the recipe for her favorite lemon bread.

“You know, if you didn’t love law so much, you could’ve made out like a bandit in a baking competition.”

“Oh I would’ve won with my sob story of being a blind little Catholic orphan alone.”

“Matthew!”

Matt snickered at the disbelief in your tone, but he could also detect the way the edges of your lips twitched, like you weren’t sure if you should laugh at that or not. Snaking his arm around your waist, he pressed a light kiss to your forehead and gently nudged you in the direction towards the spice aisle.

“Come on, we need flour.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover  @avengerstower-houseplant @mars-rants-a-lot @topperthornton @hailey-murdock @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

[muiitoloko]

I just read Elliott fic when they have some domestic discipline and firstly I love it !!! Secondly, I read someone in the comment talking about Lionel and Turpin and it could fit them but what about a character no one would think about ??? Like Sinclair ! It’s so out of character and in the same time, I can imagine him and his partner having it as a fun sexual game because of course Sinclair is not a punisher, but he needs spices in his sexual life after his bitchy ex !

Title: Bedroom Boundaries

Summary: The exploration of new boundaries in the bedroom reveals Sinclair's hidden desires and deepens the connection between lovers.

Pairing: Sinclair Bryant × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, BDSM.

Author's Notes: That's an interesting idea! I have to admit, it's a bit challenging to picture Sinclair as a dominant because he gives off such Golden Retriever vibes. But I went ahead and wrote about it, doing my best to keep the essence of Sinclair intact. Hope you enjoy it! 😄

Also read on Ao3

Sinclair was quite silent that night, you noticed as you brushed your hair in front of the mirror. You looked at him in the reflection, watching as he moved his fingers silently. He was reclining on the bed, his back against the headboard and the sheets pulled up to his lap. Sinclair always played with his fingers and was silent when he wanted to tell you something but wasn't sure if he should say it.

"What's on your mind, Clair?" you asked softly, putting down the brush and turning to face him. His brown eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of uncertainty and desire.

He hesitated for a moment, his blond hair slightly tousled, and his hooked nose casting a shadow over his intense gaze. "It's just... I've been thinking about something," he began, his baritone voice low and hesitant. "Something I want to try with you."

You walked over to the bed, sitting down beside him and taking his hand in yours. "You know you can tell me anything," you encouraged, your voice gentle.

Sinclair took a deep breath, his fingers tightening around yours. "I want to explore something new with you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Something a bit... dirtier than what we've done before."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. "Tell me more," you urged, your own voice filled with curiosity and excitement.

He looked at you hesitantly before finally starting to speak, his fingers nervously intertwining with yours. "I bought a magazine about, well, sex," Sinclair began, his voice shaky. "And in the magazine, there was an article about BDSM. It caught my attention, so I did some research about it—about dominance and submission."

Sinclair paused, his brown eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. Seeing none, he continued, his voice gaining a bit more confidence. "I really want to experiment with you. But I won't insist if you don't want to."

You stopped, absorbing his words, a little surprised. You couldn't imagine Sinclair as a dominant man. He was like a Golden Retriever—innocent and eager to please. Even now, when you lived together, he still asked permission to kiss you. The idea of him being dominant in bed was a surprise.

"What exactly do you want to do?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

Sinclair's cheeks flushed slightly, but he didn't look away. "The spanking part caught my attention," he admitted. "I really want to have that with you. I want to spank your ass, and you'd be submissive to me. Of course, not for real. We'd have a safe word, and you could use it if it ever became too much."

Your heart raced at his words, a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling within you. "And... you'd make some rules in the bedroom?" you asked, trying to picture the scenario.

Sinclair nodded, his fingers tightening around yours. "Yes, I could create some rules for us to follow. Like, you would address me as 'Sir' during our sessions, and I'd expect you to obey my commands. If you misbehave, you'd get spanked as a punishment."

You bit your lip, the idea of submitting to Sinclair sending a thrill of anticipation through you. "And what would you do if I obeyed?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sinclair's eyes darkened with desire, his voice dropping to a low, seductive rumble. "If you obey, you'd be rewarded. I could make you feel so good, give you pleasure like never before."

The thought of Sinclair taking control, of being both your punisher and your pleasure-giver, sent a shiver down your spine. "I'd like to try," you said softly, your own desire evident in your voice.

Sinclair's eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and excitement. "Thank you," he murmured, his fingers caressing your cheek. "We'll take it slow, and remember, you can always use the safe word if you need to stop."

You nodded, feeling a rush of anticipation. "What's the safe word?"

"Let's use 'red'," Sinclair suggested, his voice filled with affection. "If you say 'red', everything stops immediately."

"Okay, 'red' it is," you agreed, feeling a sense of security in the clear boundaries being set.

Sinclair smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he moved to sit up straighter on the bed. "Now, let's start with something simple," he said, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone. "Strip for me."

Your breath hitched at the command, but you felt a thrill of excitement as you began to remove your clothes, piece by piece, under his watchful gaze. Sinclair's eyes roamed over your body, his desire evident in the way he licked his lips.

Once you were fully naked, Sinclair's eyes darkened with lust. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive purr. "Now, come here and lay across my lap."

You moved to obey, your heart racing as you draped yourself over his lap, your bare skin pressed against his. Sinclair's hand rested on your ass, his touch gentle yet possessive.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and tenderness.

"Yes, Sir," you replied, the title feeling strangely natural as it left your lips.

Sinclair's hand came down in a firm, controlled spank, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. He continued, each spank growing slightly harder, his other hand caressing your back in a soothing gesture.

But Sinclair wasn't used to this, you noticed, because every time you made a strange noise, he would stop and question if you were okay and if you wanted to stop. This amused you; it was clear that Sinclair was not used to being dominant, although he tried. So, you decided to provoke him a bit.

"Is everything okay?" Sinclair asked for the third time, his hand hovering over your reddened skin.

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. "I'm fine, Sir," you replied, your voice a mix of reassurance and challenge. "Is that the best you can do?"

Sinclair's eyes widened slightly, his cheeks flushing as he processed your words. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice hesitant.

You wiggled your hips slightly, pressing yourself more firmly against his lap. "I mean, I thought you wanted to punish me, Sir," you said, your voice dripping with playful defiance. "But it feels like you're holding back. Maybe you're not cut out for this."

Sinclair's eyes darkened with a mix of uncertainty and determination. "Oh, really?" he murmured, his voice low and slightly shaky. "You think I can't handle being in charge?"

You smirked, enjoying the way his fingers tightened on your skin. "I think you're too gentle," you teased, your voice a seductive whisper. "I don't think you have it in you to really dominate me."

Sinclair's expression shifted, a spark of resolve igniting in his eyes. "Is that so?" he said, his voice gaining a bit more confidence. "Well, let's see about that."

Without warning, Sinclair's hand came down in a firmer spank, the sharp crack echoing in the room. You gasped, a mixture of pleasure and surprise coursing through you. "That's more like it," you moaned, your voice laced with encouragement.

Sinclair's hand continued to spank you, each slap growing harder and more deliberate. "You're such a naughty girl," he murmured, his baritone voice filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness. "You need to learn your place."

You arched your back, pushing your ass up to meet his hand. "Yes, Sir," you gasped, the thrill of his newfound confidence sending waves of pleasure through you. "Teach me, Sir."

Sinclair's hand paused, his fingers tracing the red marks on your skin. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of wonder and desire.

You looked back at him over your shoulder, your eyes filled with lust. "Yes, Sir," you admitted, your voice breathy. "I love it when you take control."

Sinclair's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, his hand resuming its rhythmic spanking. "Good," he murmured, his voice gaining a more commanding tone. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

As his hand continued to punish you, Sinclair's other hand moved to caress your back, his touch both soothing and possessive. "You're mine," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "All mine."

You moaned in response, the mix of pain and pleasure driving you wild. "Yes, Sir," you gasped, your body trembling with need. "I'm yours."

Sinclair's hand stilled, his fingers trailing down to tease your entrance. "Tell me how much you want it," he demanded, his voice a low, seductive rumble.

"I want it so badly, Sir," you whimpered, your voice filled with desperation. "Please, take me. Use me."

Sinclair's eyes darkened with lust, his fingers slipping inside you, his touch firm and demanding. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now, beg for it."

"Please, Sir," you begged, your voice trembling with need. "Please fuck me. I need you inside me."

Sinclair's smirk widened, his confidence growing with each passing moment. "That's more like it," he murmured, his fingers pumping in and out of you with increasing speed. "You're such a good little slut for me."

You froze in his lap, and so did Sinclair. He had never called you that before, and it was a surprise for both of you. Sinclair remained still, his fingers paused inside you, his face flushed with a mixture of shock and regret.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Sinclair began, his voice shaky and filled with panic. "I shouldn't have said that. You're not a little slut. It was wrong of me to say that. I don't know what came over me. I shouldn't have even proposed this game of submission and dominance. I—"

You silenced him by pushing yourself against his fingers, ignoring his excuses as you looked at him with intense desire. "Shut up, Sinclair," you whispered, your voice dripping with lust. "I am your dirty little slut."

Sinclair's eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to process your words. "But—" he started, but you cut him off with a fierce look.

"Call me that again," you demanded, your voice firm and commanding. "I want to hear it from your lips."

Sinclair's breath hitched, his fingers instinctively moving inside you again. "You're... my dirty little slut," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of hesitation and desire.

You moaned, pushing yourself harder against his fingers. "Yes, Sir," you gasped, your voice thick with need. "Your dirty little slut who loves being used by you. Please, Sir, fuck me like the slut I am."

Sinclair's eyes darkened with lust, his confidence returning as he watched you writhe in his lap. "You really are a dirty little slut." he murmured, his voice gaining strength. "You love it when I call you that, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir," you moaned, your body trembling with anticipation. "I love it. I love being your dirty little slut. Please, Sir, fuck me harder."

Sinclair's hand moved faster, his fingers thrusting in and out of you with renewed intensity. "You want more, don't you?" he growled, his baritone voice filled with dominance. "You want me to treat you like the slut you are."

"Yes, Sir," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want more. I want you to use me, to fuck me like the dirty slut I am."

Sinclair's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, his confidence growing with each passing moment. "You're mine," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "All mine. And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

With that, he pulled his fingers out of you, his hands moving to position you on the bed. "On your hands and knees," he commanded, his voice filled with authority. "I want to see you begging for my cock."

You obeyed without hesitation, your heart racing with excitement as you positioned yourself on the bed, your ass raised high in the air. Sinclair moved behind you, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight before him.

"Please, Sir," you begged, your voice trembling with need. "I need you inside me. I need to feel your cock fucking me hard."

Sinclair's smirk widened, his hands gripping your hips as he positioned himself at your entrance. "You want it that badly, huh?" he teased, his voice filled with dark promise. "Well, you're going to get it."

With one swift, decisive motion, Sinclair thrust into you, filling you completely. You cried out in a mix of pleasure and surprise, your body arching against him as he began to move.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice a mix of admiration and lust. "My dirty little slut, ready and waiting for me."

You looked over your shoulder, your gaze locking onto Sinclair. He seemed quite different, nothing like your Golden Retriever that he normally was. His blond hair was slightly tousled, his hooked nose casting shadows over his intense brown eyes. You still weren't sure if dominance suited him, but damn, he was so hot now, all dominant and talking dirty. You had never heard him talk dirty before, and you didn't even know he was capable of it. A brief thought flitted through your mind, wondering if his cheating ex-wife, Natalie, had ever heard him talk dirty like this.

Sinclair's grip on your hips tightened as he continued to thrust into you, his voice filled with a mix of authority and raw desire. "Look at you, taking my cock so well," he growled, his baritone voice sending shivers down your spine. "You're such a good little slut for me, aren't you?"

"Yes, Sir," you moaned, your body arching against him. "I'm your good little slut. Please, don't stop."

Sinclair's smirk widened, his confidence growing with each passing moment. "You love it when I fuck you like this, don't you?" he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You love being my dirty little whore."

"Yes, Sir," you gasped, your voice trembling with need. "I love it. I love being your dirty little whore."

Sinclair's thrusts grew harder and more deliberate, his hands roaming over your body as he claimed you completely. "I want to hear you scream my name," he demanded, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "I want everyone to know who you belong to."

You cried out, the intensity of his words and the pleasure coursing through you driving you wild. "Sinclair!" you screamed, your voice filled with ecstasy. "Oh, God, Sinclair!"

"That's it," he growled, his baritone voice filled with satisfaction. "Scream for me. Let everyone know who fucks you like this."

You pushed back against him, your body trembling with the intensity of your need. "Fuck me harder, Sir," you begged, your voice thick with desire. "Make me cum. Please, make me cum."

Sinclair's eyes darkened with lust, his grip on your hips tightening as he pounded into you with relentless intensity. "You're going to cum for me," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "You're going to cum so hard, and I'm going to fill you up with my cum. You're mine, all mine."

You moaned, the pleasure building to a dizzying peak as Sinclair drove you closer and closer to the edge. "Yes, Sir," you gasped, your body trembling with anticipation. "I'm so close. Please, don't stop."

Sinclair slapped your ass, and you screamed at the blow, which made Sinclair flinch slightly. His worry overcame him as he thought he might have hurt you, and the idea killed him. You noticed his hesitation and looked over your shoulder, pushing yourself against him.

"Sinclair," you murmured, your voice filled with a mix of challenge and curiosity, "have you ever done something like this to your ex-wife, Natalie? Did you fuck her like that? Did you talk dirty to her?"

Sinclair's face flushed a deep red, his fingers tightening on your hips as he processed your question. "No," he admitted, his voice shaky. "I never did anything like this with her."

You pushed back against him, feeling a thrill of excitement at his admission. "Then show me, Sinclair," you urged, your voice dripping with lust. "Show me how much more you want me than you ever wanted her. Fuck me like you never fucked her."

Sinclair's eyes darkened with a mix of desire and determination, his grip on your hips tightening as he resumed his thrusts, harder and more deliberate than before. "You're mine," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "All mine. And I'll make sure you know it."

You moaned at his words, the pleasure and intensity of his thrusts driving you wild. "Yes, Sir," you gasped, your body trembling with need. "I'm yours. Only yours."

Sinclair's confidence grew with each passing moment, his hand coming down in another firm slap on your ass, the sharp crack echoing in the room. "That's right," he growled, his baritone voice filled with satisfaction. "You're my dirty little slut, and I'll fuck you harder than I ever fucked anyone else."

You cried out at the intensity of his thrusts, the mix of pain and pleasure sending waves of ecstasy through your body. "Please, Sir," you begged, your voice thick with desire. "Don't stop. I need you so badly."

Sinclair's hand moved to your hair, gripping it firmly as he pulled your head back, forcing you to look at him. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and dominance. "So desperate for my cock. So eager to please."

You whimpered at the intensity of his gaze, the pleasure building to a dizzying peak. "Yes, Sir," you moaned, your voice trembling with need. "I love it. I love being your dirty little whore."

Sinclair's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, his thrusts growing even more intense. "You want it that badly, huh?" he teased, his voice filled with dark promise. "Well, you're going to get it."

With each powerful thrust, Sinclair drove you closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure overwhelming your senses. "Fuck, Sinclair!" you screamed, your body trembling with anticipation. "I'm so close. Please, don't stop."

"You're going to cum for me," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "You're going to cum so hard, and I'm going to fill you up with my cum. You're mine, all mine."

You moaned, the intensity of his words and the pleasure coursing through you driving you wild. "Yes, Sir," you gasped, your body trembling with need. "I'm yours. Only yours."

Sinclair's grip on your hair tightened, his thrusts growing more erratic as he chased his own climax. "Cum for me," he demanded, his voice thick with desire. "Show me just how much you love being fucked by me."

With a final, powerful thrust, Sinclair pushed you over the edge, sending you spiraling into another mind-blowing orgasm. You cried out his name, your body convulsing with the intensity of your release as Sinclair continued to pound into you, drawing out every last bit of pleasure.

Sinclair's thrusts stuttered before he came, filling you with his seed. You moaned at the sensation, your body trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm as he groaned in pleasure, his fingers digging into your hips. As he calmed down, Sinclair pulled out of you and collapsed onto the bed next to you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He pulled you into his chest, his shirt now stuck against his skin from sweat, having only taken off his boxer shorts to fuck you.

You watched as the dominant Sinclair disappeared, replaced by the familiar, gentle Golden Retriever demeanor you knew so well. He began to chatter, his voice filled with a mixture of worry and affection. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry," he blurted out, his brown eyes wide with concern. "I didn't mean to cum inside you without asking first. I got so caught up in the moment, and I—"

You silenced him with a kiss, your fingers tangling in his blond hair as you pressed your lips to his. "It's okay, Sinclair," you murmured against his mouth, your voice filled with reassurance. "I wanted it. I loved it."

Sinclair's expression softened, his cheeks flushing as he looked at you with a mixture of relief and affection. "Really?" he asked, his voice still tinged with uncertainty. "I just... I never want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable."

You smiled, caressing his cheek with your thumb. "You didn't," you assured him. "You were amazing. I loved every second of it."

Sinclair let out a relieved sigh, his arms tightening around you as he nuzzled your neck. "I'm glad," he murmured, his voice returning to its usual chatty tone. "I was so worried. I've never done anything like that before, and I wasn't sure if I was doing it right."

You laughed softly, the sound mingling with the remnants of your earlier moans. "You did great, Sinclair," you replied, your voice filled with genuine affection. "You were perfect."

Sinclair's eyes lit up with a mixture of pride and happiness. "Thank you," he said, his voice warm and filled with emotion. "I really enjoyed it, too. It's nice to try new things and explore together."

You nodded, feeling a sense of contentment settle over you as you lay in his arms. "I agree," you murmured, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "I love exploring with you."

Sinclair smiled, his hooked nose casting shadows over his intense gaze. "There's so much more I want to try," he admitted, his voice filled with excitement. "I want to keep exploring, keep learning about what we both enjoy."

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with affection. "I'm looking forward to it," you said softly, your voice filled with anticipation. "I love you, Sinclair."

Sinclair's eyes softened, his expression filled with genuine love and affection. "I love you too," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "And I promise, I'll always make sure you're comfortable and happy."

You smiled, feeling a sense of warmth and security in his embrace. "I know you will," you whispered, your voice filled with confidence. "And I'll always be here, exploring and learning with you."

As you lay there, entwined in each other's arms, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you lost in the sweet afterglow of your shared passion. The night had been intense, filled with a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, but in that moment, all that mattered was the connection between you and Sinclair, the man who could satisfy you in ways you had never imagined.

[kanencrow]

Hey! could request gwen x fem reader (who is also a spider woman) where gwen gets jealous but everything is cute and healthy? you!!

Just Admit It - Across The Spiderverse | One Shot

A/N: Yeah, of course! Enjoy!

SUMMARY: Gwen’s jealous, and you know why.

WARNINGS: All characters are 18+. Swearing, Healthy Jealousy, Spoilers for Across the Spiderverse. Fem!Reader.

WORD COUNT: 1700+

You had a lot of secret admirers. 

Gwen was well aware of that, and she certainly didn’t like it. 

Coming back from a mission with your girlfriend in tow was a usual routine for the both of you. By the end of your jobs, you and her would find yourselves equally tired and more than ready to head to bed. However, recently, and for some unknown reason, you had a lot of Spider-People from the society greet you whenever you would make your way through the crowds of different variants. Even the Spider-Car would honk at you frantically just to gather your attention, and even though it was a literal vehicle, you’d always find yourself sending it a friendly wave, before addressing the other superheroes that passively begged for your attention.

There was one particular night when you and Gwen came back through a portal that led to a universe that had been disrupted. It was a long and grueling mission that had been full of tampering with the timeline and the important characters within it, but you and your partner still had managed to succeed in the task the two of you were meant to complete. You were exhausted, your feet dragging as you walked back to the quarters that you and your girlfriend claimed, and even though your hand sat snug in the blonde’s, and you showed no sign of wanting to talk to anyone, you still had the usual Spider-Person bound up to you.

“Hi, hi! I’m sorry to bother you, but I just want to say that I’m a huge fan!” 

Excitement radiated off of them the moment they stopped to stand in front of you and Gwen. They rambled on and on about how they loved you out of all the other Spider-People in the society, and although you knew that sentiment was meant to be taken as a compliment, it felt more backhanded than anything else. Still, you simply nodded your head and smiled awkwardly as you attempted to discreetly move yourself away from the engagement. However, the moment you tried stepping past them, they grabbed your wrist and forced you to stop once more. The second they touched you, you could feel the hand that you held squeeze around your own tightly, and you even felt yourself grow annoyed at the lack of boundaries that the masked vigilante showed. 

“Hey, listen…” You eventually just decided to be blunt and rip your wrist out of their grasp, which they – surprisingly – didn’t seem to be upset about. They only excitedly nodded their head in expectation at what you were about to say, and you made sure to sweeten your tone to showcase somewhat of a condescending attitude towards them. “I appreciate the kind words, really… but shitting on all of your allies for the sake of getting on one's good side isn’t a very good look.” You raised an eyebrow at the Spider-Person. “Maybe try a different… approach next time when you’re talking to someone you claim to admire.” 

Even though their face was shrouded by the mask they wore, you could see the way they suddenly deflated at your statement. “Oh… um–” You noticed the way they gestured their hands, trying to scramble for some sort of response to what you had said, and Gwen had to stop herself from letting out a scoff at their unwillingness to shut up and just apologize for their rudeness. 

She suddenly stepped forward, and you felt your heart jump slightly when she let go of your hand to wrap her arm around your waist. “If you’ll excuse us, my girlfriend and I have places to be.” She pulled you into her side for safe-keeping – as well as to try and enunciate what she had said through an action, and you felt yourself smirk from behind the mask that you still continued to wear, when you glanced over at the blonde and saw the way her spider eyes narrowed at your shared ‘ally.’ “So, uh… with that being said… bye!”

You didn’t have much of a chance to gather your bearings, before you were tugged along by Gwen. Her arm remained around your waist as you and her left the adoring Spider-Fan in the dust, and although you were slightly amused by her eagerness to escape the impendingly awkward conversation, her lack of communication acted as a loud ping in your mind. It didn’t take Einstein to realize that she was clearly jealous. The way you felt her fingers curl in to hold onto you tighter, even though you and her both knew that you weren’t planning on going anywhere. The way she sighed every few moments, which made you think that she was just trying to calm herself, and not get overwhelmed by the engagement that happened not even a minute ago. 

You knew how she got when she was jealous. 

She was exuding all of the signs of it. 

You chose not to speak on it while the two of you walked back to your quarters. She was silent and brooding, and you remained thoughtful and attentive. It wasn’t the first time jealousy had consumed her. You knew that she didn’t like to talk about it in a place where everyone could easily hear, and she wasn’t necessarily the type to openly admit that she was a little envious of the fact that your attention had been taken away from her. You had done the song and dance countless times. It wasn’t anything new to you at all. Still, though, navigating the confrontational aspect of it always deemed itself to be a difficult task for you.

By the time you stepped in the room you shared with Gwen, she was already unzipping her suit and readying herself for the more comfortable outfit that she had made sure to lay out, before going on her mission with you. You would have followed immediately after, though you busied yourself with closing the door behind you and locking it for better privacy. Of course, your lack of sound gathered your girlfriends’ attention, and so as you pulled off your mask and set it on the dresser that sat against the wall next to you, the woman turned around, all while she pulled her shirt over her head and eventually focused her gaze onto you. 

You glanced over at her, giving her a side-eye, and you had to hold yourself back from smirking, when you noticed the way she pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. You knew that she knew you were subtly trying to get her to fess up about the jealousy that she showed earlier. But because of how stubborn she was, she decided to keep her mouth shut, while you busied yourself with taking off your own suit. Her pupils followed your every movement. From the way you almost tripped as you pulled your leg out of the tight-fitting outfit you wore to be Spider-Woman, to the way the muscles on your body – defined or not – slightly showed, due to the simple actions you would intentionally or unintentionally make. 

Only after you leaned down and picked up your suit to fold it did Gwen eventually speak up.

“Okay, so maybe I got a little jealous back there,” she stated quietly, as she flickered her eyes away from you to stare at the door of your shared quarters. You didn’t verbally respond to what she had said, and so when she heard a quiet hum come from you, she snapped her focus back towards you once more. Somehow, you had slipped on some comfortable clothes in the time she averted her gaze, and although your quickness caught her off guard, she ignored her growing questions and continued to defend her name. “I mean… do you blame me…?” You silently settled your outfit onto the dresser, next to your mask, and that only seemed to spur the blonde on even more. “They were, like… super close to you! Like, too close!” she exclaimed, “It literally looked like they were about to smother you.” 

Gwen’s fleeting statement caused you to let out a humorous huff, before you turned around and leaned up against the edge of the dresser. “Isn’t that a bit of a stretch?” Your eyes met her own as you raised your eyebrows at her. 

She shrugged her shoulders, “Maybe a little bit… but you get my point.”

You smiled at Gwen, as you folded your arms over your chest and tilted your head to the side. “Well, just know that you don’t have to worry about someone sweeping me off my feet,” you stated, making sure to line your tone with assuredness, as you pushed away from the dresser and walked forward, just so you could meet your girlfriend in the middle. “I love you and only you. No other Spider-Person – or random civilian on the street – can take that away from you.” You uncrossed your limbs and rested your palms against the balls of her shoulders, before you gave them a firm, reassuring squeeze. 

“I know you do.” Gwen lulled her head to the side and frowned faintly, before she fell into you and wrapped her arms around your waist, which caused your own to do the same to her body. “I just wish other people knew that you’re my girlfriend,” she admitted, while she rested her chin on your shoulder and mindlessly stared towards the door that led out of your shared room. “I don’t know what else I have to do to make it more obvious.” You hummed thoughtfully at her words, albeit muffled, but she wasn’t done, when you heard her let out a sigh and tighten her hold around you, limbs winding around you like a gentle snake. “It makes me feel like people don’t respect you – or even me,” she said.

“Well, we can always just… web them to the ceiling,” you lightheartedly proposed. Your statement earned a humorous scoff from the blonde, before she suddenly pulled back from you to meet your eyes. 

“That’s tempting…” 

You furrowed your eyebrows faintly and smirked, “Well, that was also a joke,” you told her, “don’t actually do that whenever someone gets too close to me, okay?” 

Gwen glanced up at the ceiling suspiciously and slowly peeled herself away from you, as her arms fell back to her sides. “No promises, babe.” You could only narrow your eyes at her in response, which caused her to laugh at your reaction. And the moment she turned around and sauntered back to the bed the both of you shared, you let out a quiet huff, before you shook your head in endearment and followed after her fleeting form.

This one clashed with my brain and in turn took me a minute to actually write out, so apologies if it isn't up to par. Also, this'll probably be my last fic for about a week or so, because I'll be moving in the next couple of days, and of course, that won't allow me to dedicate some of my time and effort to your requests.

And thank you for all the love on my other posts. I really appreciate it!

Feel free to put in your requests while I'm taking the temporary break, by the way. Just wanted to make a subtle announcement, just so no one thinks that I've disappeared off the face of the earth.

Much love!

[cultofdixon]

Sharing is caring

Daryl Dixon x Reader x Rosita Espinosa • She/Her Pronouns • They’re best friends…and you are theirs. • NSFW - Oral (F Receiving) / Hickeys / Biting / Face Riding / Missionary / Grinding / Fingering • TW: Canon Violence Mentioned / Injuries / Scars

Requested by: Anon

It was nice…

No longer having to worry about Negan and the Saviors. The group along with the many communities they’ve become close with through the troubling times can finally thrive and work together. To make everyone feel safe…

Daryl couldn’t help the smile that would grace his face as he finally felt a moment’s peace. Especially with the help of his human ray of sunshine. She was perfect. Didn’t push him to his breaking point, but still never left when they both knew deep down he needed her. She’d always patch him up after their more hairy runs with walkers. Lay with him and listen to every word that comes out of him with this loving and invested gaze that draws him in. She’ll look at him the same even when no words leaves his lips. She made him feel so cared for during all the chaos, even before and after. She was there.

His sunshine was perfect

But he wasn’t the only one to have a special someone.

Rosita has her querida, her love. She never thought she could love anyone after Abraham or as much as she did before he ruined it. Then came this woman that has been in her life for some time and shook her. Showing her that she can love with reasonable hesitation and that she would never hurt her the way the past did. Her smile always brightened the room and she knew just the right words to get a laugh out of her. The way she held Rosita close at night, running her fingers through her hair calming every nerve from the day just by protectively holding her close.

Her querida was everything.

….

But everyone knew their partners as Y/F/N Y/L/N. A literal human ray of sunshine and always knowing the right words to say to anybody. She is the most optimistic person you’ll ever meet, and the realist. Even happy people have bad days and she’s not afraid to express how she’s feeling.

Everyone knew Daryl, Y/N, and Rosita were this unspoken trio that went on runs together and got shit done faster since they work the best together. Little did everyone else know that Y/N was seeing the both of them, romantically.

It wasn’t kept from either of them. No offense to the archer and the warrior but they can be jealous of things important to them. While Y/N was more of “who could only love one person” type without all the mess that can be a misconception or fact for some people of said type.

When they had gotten used to it, Daryl had said out loud once during their run that if he had to share Y/N with, he wouldn’t want anybody else other than Rosita. And she couldn’t agree more. They each have their boundaries and all live in the same house at Alexandria, with their own rooms. Some nights Y/N will be with Rosita, other nights with Daryl, and sometimes she’s by herself. There will always be time for alone time. Again, no one really knows even if Y/N is an open affectionate person while Daryl is not and Rosita prefers privacy…but if someone had to bring it up, it wouldn’t be addressed with hostility.

Love whoever the fuck you want (within reason of course)

Packing has always been stressful. The old world made it a hundred times worse but in the apocalypse, one has to make sure they’ve got everything. Flashlight, knife, first aid, canteen…depends on the trip one would go on. In this case, Y/N was packing to head over to the Sanctuary and at a very late hour so that she’d have the morning with Daryl before she helps around then ultimately head back to Alexandria.

“Hey, mi amor” Rosita smiles leaning against the door frame as Y/N shot her a smile while she finished up. “You sure you don’t want me to drive you over there? I don’t mind one bit”

“I know you don’t. But you promised Rick you’d join him on the early run tomorrow morning. You need your sleep”

“Always so worried about lil ol me” Rosita laughs bringing herself into the room, wrapping her arms around her waist bringing her close. “I just want you to take the truck and not your bike. You’re not the smoothest biker”

Y/N tried to contain her laugh to an insult directed toward her as she turned around to hold her girl close.

“I’ll be safe. And if I eat shit, we both know Daryl will find me in minutes”

“I sure hope so or I’m going to have to kick his ass” Rosita smirks as the look on her face told Y/N for sure that she wasn’t lying. She will kill the man if shit happens.

With a quick kiss from her querida, Rosita let her finally leave before the light in the sky completely went out. Y/N started up her bike with her pack on her back as she had a helmet to ease both their anxieties. She gave her a quick sign of ‘I love you’ before heading through the gates once Eugene opened them for her.

The ride to the Sanctuary felt faster now compared to times before. Probably because they had to take the longer route to go unnoticed. Now it’s slowly becoming a community with Daryl’s help, which was a whole can of worms when he first told Y/N about it. The man would do anything for his brother, even risk his PTSD.

Daryl heard the knock on his door while he was drawing out farming plans for the Sanctuary. He waited a moment until he heard the familiar rhythmic knock that was a code for the two when they used to sneak around during the time they lived under the Grimes’s roof. He got up from his seat and went to open the door, instantly smiling to find his partner as she returned with her radiant smile.

“Hey sunshine” He continued to bear his smile letting Y/N in and closing the door behind her when his smile faded noticing the bit of a limp. “Did yea take another spill?”

“What? No!” Y/N lied setting her helmet down on the counter of the kitchenette along with her pack.

“Then why are yea wearing fresh pants?” Daryl crosses his arms leaning against the door waiting for her to admit it herself as all he received was a scoff to begin with.

She next went into her pack pulling out the torn jeans as she didn’t see the pothole on the way in and only ended up with road rash. Thankfully. Daryl helped her out of the pants she was wearing to cover up the fact as he went slow to avoid the open wound already sticking to the pants to cause more discomfort. As Y/N situated herself on the bed, Daryl tossed her pants on his chair before getting his first aid and cleaning it up then applying a bandage.

“Gotta get yea a new bike. Or force yea to take a car next time”

“Not my fault the pothole tends to win every fight”

“Mm. Can’t argue with that” Daryl finishes with the bandages and putting everything away. “She’s gonna kill yea”

“Mm. But if I tell her that you’re not as mad, she’ll direct her anger toward you” Y/N smiles as she brought her knees to her chest watching him roll his eyes fighting back a small smile. “Can I take the truck back?”

“Please, do.” Daryl exhaled a lot of the stress that built up from such, bringing himself to sit on the edge of the bed as Y/N uncurls herself to crawl on her knees to bring her beside him. “I’m glad you’re here though”

“You should come home soon. I’m slowly but getting there with my convincing to Rick. There are some trustworthy people here that could watch the place”

“Or get rid of it entirely” He frowns bringing his head to rest on her shoulder as she instantly kisses the top of his head.

The two went to bed shortly after getting ready for such and making sure she was settled as Daryl found himself comfortably laying on Y/N with his head on her chest after. He hums softly feeling her fingers run through his hair enjoying the feeling. He could lay there for hours and he did until he naturally shifted to be beside Y/N, bringing her into his embrace holding her protectively.

The Sanctuary didn’t get much natural light in their rooms as they were like solitary confinement. But the rooms still had that basement size window that gave just enough natural light to fill the room.

Y/N felt the warmth from the light hit her face but there was more happening as she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. A breathy choked off moan escaped her lips feeling his nose brush against her clit while his tongue lapped at her sweetness between her folds. Guess he had other plans in mind this morning. She felt her core build up as she instinctively bucked against his face when she felt the cord snap.

“Fuck…” Y/N moans, getting comfortable once again in the bed as Daryl brought himself out from under the covers releasing her panties back into place after pulling them aside just enough to enjoy his “breakfast”. “That better not be it, my love”

“Mmm…‘course not, sunshine” He smirks bringing his lips to hers as she could taste herself on his lips letting his tongue explore the inside of her mouth while his hands worked to completely remove her panties.

Once he did such, Daryl positioned himself in between her legs as he only parted from kissing her to catch his breath. Y/N brought her legs around him pulling him into her core as he got the hint starting to grind into her while he attached his lips to her neck.

“Dar…please” Y/N moans feeling the cord tighten as she wanted more than just the friction with his boxers.

“So polite” Daryl chuckles against her neck sucking on the spot to leave a hickey. “Be a good girl and tell me what you want, sunshine”

“God!” She moans feeling his dominant hand squeeze her breast through her shirt. “Please. For the love of god, fuck me!”

Daryl chuckles once more, pulling his lips away from her skin admiring the mark. “Okay sunshine. Rid yourself of your shirt while I get a condom” he pulls away entirely getting out of the bed, taking his boxers off as Y/N got a bit distracted staring at his naked form…tracing his image with her eyes admiring every scar and freckle she could see.

As Y/N started to get her shirt off, Daryl climbed back into the bed pulling her by the legs the second she got her shirt off…her core instantly meeting his dick as she lays back watching him align himself at her entrance glancing up at her every inch he pushes in.

“Fuck me…” Y/N moans hitting her head back against the pillow as Daryl smirks bringing his arms on both sides of her head reconnecting their lips while he started a slow pace.

As he gradually got faster with his thrust, he couldn’t help his own moans from escaping…especially when he hit the right spot that practically got Y/N screaming when his lips weren’t on hers. She held onto his shoulders being carefully not to dig her nails in, not like he’d mind. But as she felt the cord tighten again and Daryl felt her walls clench around him, they were both close.

“Fuck, you feel so good” Daryl groans, picking up the pace and going a bit rougher the closer he got.

“Daryl. Please. Fuck!” She moans feeling him slam into her as she gripped onto his shoulder blades when the cord snapped and her walls clenched tightly around him.

That drew a low moan from his chest as he reached his climax spilling his seed into the condom. He lays on top of her a moment to catch his breath while Y/N didn’t mind him laying on her as she gently caresses his back listening to him sigh contently.

“Should we get started with the day or…?”

“Mmm it can wait a few minutes”

More like an hour. The two took a shower to clean up before getting started with the farming plots Daryl drew up. Y/N took one of his shirts hostage and let him re-bandage her leg before going to get some ex-Saviors to help.

Once the day was finished, Y/N tossed her pack in the bed of the truck before approaching Daryl with a smile and kissing him goodbye. But he held her close for a little while longer.

“Don’t cause too much trouble, or imma have to come back”

“Maybe I want you back”

“Soon, sunshine” Daryl smiles giving her one more kiss. “Soon”

And with that Y/N made her way back to Alexandria, waving at Gabriel when he opened the gate for her. She parked in front of the house and was instantly met with Rosita’s warm embrace. Y/N tightened her arms around her hiding her face in the crook of her neck as Rosita rubs circles on her back.

“He knows mi amor. I know he does” Rosita frowns wishing Daryl would get the hint that her visiting him at the Sanctuary was a bit triggering. Given what they both been through during the war. Then there’s Rick who made the mistake of having him watch the place. “Come on, I can cheer you up”

“Oh yeah?” Y/N parts from her, her smile returning as it brought warmth to Rosita’s heart as she couldn’t help but kiss her partner before leading her inside.

While Y/N went to put her things away and get undressed, right before she got into something more comfortable Rosita approached her from behind wrapping her arms around her naked form pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“How about we take a shower? We’ve both worked hard today…a nice hot shower sounds nice right about now”

“The only hot thing about such is going to be us. When’s the last time we had hot water?”

“Hmm. I’m not entirely sure. But you’re very right about the hot thing” Rosita smirks kissing her shoulder then her neck while moving her hair aside to continue kissing her exposed skin. “I’m all ready for you, sweetheart”

“Hmm…that shower will have to wait” Y/N sighs relaxing against her touch as her hands moved from her hips to her breasts gently groping form behind until she wanted to see all of her. Making Rosita suddenly spin Y/N and shoving her onto the bed. “Eager aren’t we, my love?”

“I missed you”

“I’m right here, Rose” Y/N quickly sat up taking her face into her hands crashing her lips onto hers as Rosita pulls her to the edge of the bed by the hips keeping her hands there. The two continued to make out then and there until Y/N parted smirking at her love. “Sit on my face”

“You have a way with your words” Rosita laughs gripping her hips softly as Y/N rolls her eyes keeping her smirk.

“I’m forward is what you’re looking for and I know what I’m craving” Y/N smirks kissing her once more before laying back and bringing her entire self on the bed waiting for Rosita to eventually climb on top of her. “I don’t bite”

“I know that” She scoffs followed by a smile. “I don’t want to crush you”

“Oh trust me, that’s a hell of a way to die” Y/N smirks as Rosita smacks her shoulder. “But I promise I’ll tap out if I get too high on your body. Trust me though, I can never get enough of your gorgeous self”

Rosita felt the heat rise in her cheeks but a cute little touch was the blush that met her shoulders that Y/N could never get enough of when she gets her blushing. Rosita carefully positioned herself above Y/N’s face as she wanted to go slow lowering herself but when she felt her partner’s hands find purchase on her hips…she’s getting pulled down.

The initial contact caused a gasp to escape her but it quickly turned into a moan once Y/N brought her tongue through her folds. She was slow at first with her tongue as her nose occasionally brushes her clit. With the way they were in the bed, Rosita couldn’t hold onto the headboard but she did lean forward against the wall. The side of her bed was up against the wall in the corner. So as she leaned forward she felt Y/N’s hands grip onto her hips to keep her in place but scooted down a bit so that she could continue to eat her out and start her licking and sucking on her clit. Rosita bites down on her lip to contain the moans escaping her, ultimately failing when she felt her release one of her hands bringing her index and middle to start fingering her while sucking on her clit. The cord was tightening and she tried to keep herself from climaxing too quickly but the way her slender fingers brushed against that spot made it difficult to keep it together.

When Rosita felt Y/N tap her, she couldn’t help the whine that escaped her when she didn’t reach that snap. But she was immediately tossed onto the bed and Y/N brought herself back in between her legs looking at her woman with a smile on her face before bringing herself back down to her core and returning her lips to her core.

“Oh fuck!” Rosita moans arching her back feeling one of her hands reach up to grope her breast as the other started to finger her again.

The way her fingers thrust at the same pace she lapped at her clit, the cord snapped and boy did it. Rosita gripped onto the bedsheets arching her back moaning louder than before as she reached climaxed. Her back falls back onto the bed as she panted watching through hooded lids, Y/N pull her face away sucking her sweetness off her fingers and brushing what’s wet on her lips on the back of her hand.

“Holy shit…”

“Felt good, baby?”

“Always” Rosita exhales happily as Y/N brought herself leaning over her body pressing her lips against her lips. “Fuck…how could yea tire me out before I could do anything?”

“I wanted to take care of my girl, and I ain’t done. Imma start a bath for you and of course I’ll join you” She smiles kissing her once more before climbing out of the bed as Rosita watched her naked form approach the bathroom.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“Don’t know, but I’m glad I have you”

[dark-and-kinky-hetalia-scenarios]

@queengiuliettafirstlady

1p Russia/Ivan Braginsky

It falls him natural to not be very kinky, but if you want to play he'll happily be the Dom you wish for

He does like the control it gives him over you, regardless of how it's shown

He will make you wear collars that show you belong to him in public

He'll play the Dom in public, anything to show ownership

He's not so good with the whole letting you set soft boundaries, he gets the hard boundaries, but soft are there to be broken, at times at least

There's going to lots of different kinds of marking, not just collars

If you're unlucky (or lucky;D) there might be a leash involved

Of course he will respect a safe word, but you really shouldn't use it just for nothing

2p Russia/Viktor Braginsky

Naturally a dominating person, tho mostly in the Master way

Of course it requires an insane amount of trust for him to engage in sex

But when he does he's a really skilled Dom/master

He always knows how to make you submit to him

He can be convinced to some sort of Daddy thing, he's not thrilled about it as he prefers the whole master/slave roleplay, but it's easier for him if he can mix the two a little

If you want to incorporate it into your everyday life he will allow it, but only within the four walls of his home

Before he gets into the whole dom/sub thing he has a serious conversation with you about rules and limits for both of you

[shewasverynice]

Cow *space* Boy - Part 3

((Pic temporary until I find a Nanami cow boy ❤️❤️))

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Rating: Explicit

Content: Cosplay, Roleplay, Overstim, Established Relationship, Fingering, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, Blow job

Pairing: Nanami Kento/Fem!Oc

"You mean you've never sat and thought about being in a minotaur's labyrinth, hearing the sounds of him huffing as he pursues you through a twisting and unfamiliar landscape only to be cornered by the most jacked dude you've ever seen who also had convenient handles on his head?"

"... No, but clearly you have."

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Kento could tell when Rin was thinking about it. Now that he knew, he'd quickly recognized the signs. She would stop in the middle of the hall in the faculty office, fidgeting with her skirt hem. Sigh dreamily in the car when the conversation had naturally died. The little smirk and giggles she'd get in her group chat with her more "open" friends.

Not that it was a problem. Kento was the kind of man who would fulfill his lover's request as long as it was within his own boundaries. Which is to say, he'd never considered putting on such a ridiculous costume nor had assumed she'd ask him to, so it wasn't outside his boundaries in that sense.

So he said he'd do it for her, no further questions asked yet. Not until he could get some preparations done. If you want a job done right, you ask Kento Nanami.

They were out to lunch, picking up some sandwiches from the deli. Her arm was linked with his, the plastic bag in his other hand. This seemed like it would be an entertaining time to bring it up. She always did like it when he would surprise her.

"You'll need to be willing to use your safe word, of course," Kento said casually, and whoosh, there went Rin's thoughts for the rest of the afternoon. Maybe the rest of the week.

"Oh? Well, of course!" Rin replied, her cheeks tinting pink and her teeth catching her lower lip as she tried not to smile too much. Her hair curled on its own, as her technique was want to do, further revealing her excitement to him.

Kento nodded, saying no more about it for now. The chase was part of the fun after all. If he was to play the minotaur she requested then he needed to pursue her through the labyrinth. She needed to know it was time to start running.

In the middle of their drive home from JJT that evening he brought it back again. Rin was holding her breath as his palm stroked up her thigh, his fingers tensing just enough to drag at her skirt fabric.

"Something non-verbal as well would be appropriate, I think."

Rin blinked, then nodded. "I see. You think we might need something like that?" She asked, her voice catching just enough to make his skin tingle.

She went completely silent after. He refrained from chuckling, keeping his own silence. Enjoy the chase my dear, he thought, his eyes flicking over to her before landing back on the road ahead.

"Are you planning to gag me?" She blurted out and he couldn't resist the smallest of husky laughs.

"Possibly," he said calmly, "If it will keep you from escaping me then I will have no choice."

Sure enough, Rin went all quiet and embarrassed, looking down at her hands and then at his squeezing her thigh. He could hear the gears turning, the fantasy she'd shared with him only a few weeks earlier rattling her to her core.

Rin exhaled softly and when she looked out the window Kento quietly adjusted himself.

She didn't say no to a gag...

It was driving her crazy. He could tell. This wasn't the usual everyday, mostly vanilla sex they enjoyed, even while this "event" was in the works. But he was patiently trotting after her, waiting another three days without mentioning anything to do with any of it. She wanted to ask. He knew she did. But she refrained.

"Run for me, darling," Nanami mused to himself as he watched her speaking with Yaga one morning.

She caught his eye when she finished her conversation, brushing her long hair behind her ear as she approached him after. She reached out, gently adjusting his jacket and straightening his tie, trying not to smile too much.

"I was thinking stop?" She said quietly, "Sarah and Gojo use that and--"

"No, something more unlikely," Kento interrupted, watching her throat as she swallowed back a breathless laugh.

"What... Would you suggest then?" She asked, looking up at him. Her eyes were wide, fingers still holding the lapels of his jacket.

He placed his hands over hers, bringing one to his lips and whispering, "How about we use pineapple? It's common, but I think it will do." Then he kissed her knuckles before releasing her hands.

Rin's lips parted, her eyes getting that slightly glazed look of want and need. "Yes, all right," she agreed, "And as for non-verbal we can go with a tap out? Like we do in combat training?"

Kento nodded, "Of course. And I think it would be best if neither of us had anything strenuous planned for-- say three days following?"

She stopped short of saying anything, and he continued with a smile, "I've already made arrangements for us at work. Just don't make any plans with your friends, alright?"

"So... Soon?"

"Possibly."

"You're driving me insane," Rin mumbled, playfully tugging at his tie as she turned with a huff, "I can't even begin to tell you how excited I am for this."

Kento couldn't help it, taking a slow shuddering breath. "Don't let me catch you too soon," he murmured, his voice low and husky when he leaned forward to whisper, "Because when I do, I'm going to ravish you until you're nothing but a puddle at my feet."

Rin's mouth hung open for a few seconds, and then she blinked at Kento for quite some time before she was able to answer. "You... I... I will run as fast as I can," she stammered,.

"I know you will, darling," he purred, drawing back and straightening up before he turned and left her to her thoughts.

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The woman’s bare feet slapped against the cold stone floor of the labyrinth, the sound echoing off the endless walls. She ran in a thin nightgown, its hem brushing against her legs as she moved. Her long brown hair streamed behind her, tangled from the wind and her desperate sprint. She didn’t know where to go—every passage seemed to twist and spiral back on itself, and she was hopelessly lost.

Somewhere behind her, the beast followed.

She had tried hiding once, pressing herself against the rough stone walls when she heard him coming, but it was no use. His heavy snorts filled the air as he sniffed her out, his hooves pounding the ground with a weight that made the walls tremble. Every few minutes, she’d hear him let out a monstrous cry, a frustrated bellow that was not entirely inhuman. It was a deep, guttural roar that had something strangely familiar, something mixed with the furious cry of a man.

Every time she thought she might lose him, might slip through an unseen path, he’d catch up. The labyrinth was winding, cruel in its design, but no matter how many corners she turned or passages she took, none of them seemed to lead her out. She tried to focus, tried to concentrate on escaping, but something inside her betrayed her. She felt the corner of her lips twitch up, fighting a smile. A bubble of laughter nearly escaped her throat when she heard him bellow again, just missing her as she dodged around another bend.

She could hear him now, his massive palm dragging against the stone wall, one corridor over. Her heart pounded in her chest as she ducked into an alcove, pressing her back flat against the wall, holding her breath. Her bare feet ached, her skin tingling with the chill of the maze. She closed her eyes, willing herself to disappear.

But it was useless. He knew this place too well, and she knew he’d never let her escape. No matter how fast she ran, no matter how quietly she tried to hide, he would always find her.

When she stumbled into the long corridor, her heart sank. She realized her mistake almost immediately, but there was no turning back now. She could hear him behind her, his hooves scraping against the stone as he pawed at the ground. The deep sound of his breath filled the space between them, and she knew what was coming next.

Goosebumps rose on her skin, a thrill running down her spine. She broke into a full sprint, her feet flying over the ground, hair whipping around her as she pushed herself forward.

But he was faster.

The beast charged, a force of nature crashing toward her, and before she could even cry out, his massive body collided with hers. The impact knocked her off her feet, sending her sprawling to the ground. She gasped, the wind knocked from her lungs as she felt the weight of him pinning her down.

The chase was over. For now.

The minotaur's powerful arm wrapped around her chest and he pulled her back towards him. Her arms stretched out above her head, her fingers uselessly scraping at the ground against his strength. She tugged at the hairy appendage around her, pushing and pulling and wriggling, slipping out just enough for him to grunt and grip her harder.

"No!" She shouted, although to be honest it was more of a squeal of excitement.

The minotaur's other hand ran up her back over her nightgown, settling heavily on her shoulder. She could feel his heavy pants on the back of her neck, the hot air escaping his snout and parting the brown strands before his pink tongue dragged up. She shuddered, her hips and ass arching up into his chest just as teeth sunk into the thin skin around her spine.

Another heavy snort of heat from his snout as his teeth massaged her skin. She shivered trying to get her feet to find something to push off of, but his knee was on the back of her left leg. It looked like she might be stuck there. Oh no!

One of the beast's hands came up and took hold of Rin's wrist; Rin moaned out loud. "Yes," she whispered, still fruitlessly clawing at the floor despite her words, "Mmn! Yes--please..."

The minotaur climbed between Rin's legs, settling down there with his heavy cock pressed up against her ass. She squirmed beneath him, her fingers flexing and her breath catching. He was still touching, still biting, sweeping his free hand up and down her side over her nightgown. She felt like she was melting in the heat of his body, sinking against his arm and the floor and whimpering softly.

His weight shifted on her for a second--she could hear the cow bell around his neck clink. Hot hands landed at her sides, pushing up her nightgown and bunching it around her waist.

Her breath came in a shudder, "Oh god... Yes..."

Move moving, shifting, his hands came off of her and his weight eased off her body. Both of them landed on the swell of her ass, massaging in hard grips, squeezing the flesh and kneading. Parting them, she felt his breath quicken and his sweat dripped down her spine.

Her back arched, her ass lifting up as he pulled her thighs apart and two thick fingers glided up her labia. Up and down in sweeps, pushing her lips together, then parting them, letting her slick soak his fingers as he twirled them around her hole.

He other hand moved up, pinning her down by the back of her neck. He growled, "You're mine now."

She whined softly, her thighs falling just a little further apart but nothing happened--she didn't get those fingers. He didn't do anything, just staying there, hand heavy on the back of her neck, breathing hard while she squirmed beneath him. Her hips pushed up, trying to get his fingers inside her through sheer force of will.

"Darling," Kento whispered, "Rin, don't forget."

Rin was lucky to remember her own name with Kento holding her down like that. "Ken--please, please, please--"

"Don't make it too easy for me," he rasped in her ear, punctuated by a ring of the cowbell. His finger pressed against her entrance again, just a little deeper, almost inside, almost-- "You're mine, little one," the minotaur huffed out again, almost snarling it, and Rin gasped out loud.

She tried to bite it back, but a laugh nearly escaped her as she turned her head back and met his fierce gaze. His wide snout snorted hot air against her face, the heat of it mingling with the cold stone beneath her. She turned her head to the side, stifling the giggle that tried to escape as she kicked up with her legs, her bare feet pushing against his broad, hairy chest. His weight made it hard to breathe, hard to think clearly, but still, she fought.

With a burst of strength, she managed to twist her body and roll onto her back, her feet braced against his chest. She pushed as hard as she could, her toes curling against the wiry fur that covered him. For a moment, she felt him give way, just enough for her to slip out from his grasp. She kicked her foot up, catching his shoulder with a sharp push that sent him off balance. He grunted, a low, guttural sound of frustration, and in that split second, she scrambled free, her hands clawing at the ground as she tried to get away.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she stumbled to her feet, her heart racing, eyes wide as she tried to make her escape. But she wasn’t fast enough.

Before she could take more than a few steps, she felt his hand clamp around her ankle. His grip was iron, unyielding, and with one swift motion, he yanked her back. She fell forward, hitting the ground with a soft thud, her hands scraping against the stone as he dragged her back towards him.

She kicked and thrashed, her pulse quickening, the exhilaration mixing with frustration as she felt herself being pulled back into his grasp. She glanced back over her shoulder, still grinning despite herself, even as she clawed at the floor. His snout was close now, his breath heavy and ragged as he loomed over her again.

The minotaur finally slid his fingers into Rin's body, both of them groaning from it. In and out, quick and insistent, he was so impatient that when something dripped down her back she thought it might have been his saliva. She gasped and whimpered, he was so forceful, but it felt so good her head was spinning. His right arm grabbed her wrist and pinned it to the floor and he sunk into her in almost one stroke, opening her up and making her moan for him.

"That's it," he growled, his voice deep and husky--that growl was going straight to her core, "Give it to me, little one."

"Aah!" She cried out, her head tipping back and hips leaving the floor.

The minotaur groaned and started moving, quick, selfish, hard thrusts that shoved Rin forward into the floor. Rin dropped her face into her arm so she could yell, but the minotaur grasped the back of her neck again and twisted her fingers into her hair. He lifted her head up off the floor. "Don't bury it," he panted, "I want to hear you."

"Ohh, ahh, Haaah! P-please, please, please--"

The minotaur's hand slipped down from Rin's wrist and into her hand, squeezing. She squeezed it back, earning another fast, sharp thrust which made her moan, trying to angle back to get more. So much more.

"You feel so good," he grunted. His hand tightened in her hair and Rin cried out for him. The cowbell clanged against his chest, the sound perfectly in time with his brutal thrusts.

"--mmn!! Aah! Aah! Mmnnng!!"

The minotaur groaned, shoving her hips back down and slamming in harder. The sound of the cowbell nearly swallowed up Rin's eager, needy cries and she gasped as she felt the Minotaur's cock spill inside her with one last hard shove. She quivered underneath him, mouth wide open, still trying to rock back into him. The Minotaur's hand went slack against hers but she gave it a tight squeeze and then a second later another.

She panted, twisting her head back. "Please," she whined softly, "Please, Ken I... I'm so close and I haven't--"

"If I just tell you to... Can you?" He murmured, licking the back of her neck as he eased himself down on top of her, "For me?"

She squirmed, wanting to-- desperate too, she'd love to for both of them-- but she shook her head. "I... I can't... Please..."

He chuckled, backing off and making Rin groan. He pushed her over, rolling her onto her back. Rin blinked her eyes until her eyes had adjusted, making him out in the dim light. He really did put on the costume for her... She'd heard the cowbell, but she was sure he wouldn't have gone the whole way. But there he was in all its pink spotted glory.

He laid down between her legs reaching up to place her hands on the little soft pink horns. He was blushing all the way down to his neck, but as soon as his tongue licked all the way from her entrance to her clit she gasped out loud. His tongue swirled on her clit, his brown eyes meeting hers in an almost shy expression. Shy, but also that look he got when he was determined to do something. He wanted to make her happy, he was still doing his best even if he was embarrassed, and it made her heart beat even faster.

She sat up on one elbow and let her other hand fall into his blonde hair. His tongue was swirling on her clit, and holy shit did that feel good, but something else was on her mind.

She lifted off the little ears, but his hand flew up to catch it before she could completely remove it. His eyes met hers and he paused then murmured, "We're not done yet..."

"Kento... You don't have to wear it if you feel shy," she breathed, her words catching as his tongue lapped at her, "I'm having a great time... You're such a sweet man... I want this to be fun for you too."

"It is," he mumbled, shuddering as she moaned when his tongue flicked at her clit again, "It's so much fun..."

"But aren't you--"

"Rin," he stopped, sitting up to look at her with probably the sweetest smile she'd seen on his face in... Ever? "My darling, please... Don't worry. I do dislike the costume, but the joy I feel bringing your fantasy to life is worth more than temporary embarrassment."

She would have been touched, but his voice dropped back down to that husky growl and his eyes darkened. The cowbell clanged and he smirked at her, "Don't come until I give you permission," he murmured.

She shivered, clutching onto one of the horns again. He dropped down again, dragging his tongue flat and heavy against her entrance. Sloppy and wet without a care in the world, his brows knit together and he actually groaned.

She almost squirmed her way out of his arms. He held her tight, the minotaur was back and he was absolutely devouring her. His grunts and growls were fierce, his tongue tasting her like the finest dish. She let herself fall back flat on the ground, her nails raking down his hairy forearm. When his thick fingers slipped inside and curled her soul temporarily left her body.

"Aah! Aaah! I-- I'm--"

"Not. Yet." The minotaur grunted.

"Shit," Rin panted. Both hands were on his horns now, tugging desperately. "Fuck I'm not--your're gonna--I gotta come, please let me come please lemme come now ohhh god--"

"Not yet." His fingers pushed harder into her, his lips sealing around her clit and sucked, twisting his head back and forth.

"I-I'm not gonna--I can't, I'm not gonna make it, oh God, oh fuck--"

The Minotaur wouldn't give her even a second to test. Rin fell silent, staring at the ceiling--can't yet. Can't yet. Have to wait. She told herself over and over, panting hard and focusing. Ignoring the brutal twitches and throbs around his fingers. Ignoring his tongue and lips on her clit still. Ignoring how he was going to fucking town in a feral way like she'd never seen.

She tugged on his horns, still panting and staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. His fingers rubbed right into her, curling just right fast and hard. The heat worked its way into her whole goddamn body--

For just a moment his lips popped off, "Now."

"Thank you thank you thank you," Rin babbled, "oh shit oh fuck thank you yes yes yes--" And the minotaur got his mouth back over her just in time to start swallowing her come, licking hard against her entrance and sucking, until Rin just stared down at him, mouth hanging open, stunned.

He came back up, flattening her right into the floor and laying on top of her. He kissed her, hard, his tongue tasted like a mix of him and her and everything all over her mouth. His chest rumbled with a groan then he pushed off, hovering over her on his knees.

She was so stunned, her mouth still open and it took her three tries to whisper, "... Kento?"

"Get up on your knees," he huffed, tilting his head back with authority, "Between my legs. Use your mouth. Get me hard again."

Oh shit oh shit, she shifted immediately up practically scrambling up into the space between his legs. She reached up, lifting his semi-hard cock into her hand. Looking up his body, all that beautiful skin and those pink straps... She kissed down his shaft, nuzzling her nose into his hairs. She dove for it, dragging her tongue up from just at the base of his balls and all the way up to the slit, wiggling her tongue at the tip.

Kento moaned, which just made Rin determined to do it more. Long sweeping licks, over and over, but soon enough her lips slid over the head. His hips pushed forward, one hand fisting her hair and the other cupping her cheek. The feeling of her mouth moving over him made him gasp, gritting his teeth. Her tongue licked in a slow swirling motion on his cock head before she took him in her mouth once again.

Kento shuddered so hard Rin was afraid he might fall back, but no; he was steady and turned on enough that he was panting loudly. Well, thank God for that; at least it wasn't just one of them. She's never seen him acting this way, usually he's so in control of himself. Fuck, if that didn't make her want to do the best possible fucking job she could possibly do.

She got him nice and wet, her tongue over her teeth to take him deeper. His face was red, thighs tensing and toes curling. His pants were punctuated with soft grunts, his fingers tugging into his own hair. He couldn't look away from her, the cowbell clinked softly as he tilted his head to look at ber.

She had found a nice rhythm, drawing out those soft ragged little moans with every stroke, but before she could get him all the way--before she could push him to the point where he cried out for her-- he took a deep breath and growled, "Enough."

Rin made a soft wail of protest, pushing him deeper into his mouth and stroking with her tongue. Kento gasped, then shuddered and steadied himself and firmly repeated, "Enough. Stop and kneel."

Fuck. But she did it, drawing back and coming to her knees. Kento stood and she looked at his cock--so dark it was almost purple, leaking so much cum it was dripping. Kento must have been dying, dying almost as much as Rin was, but he had miles and miles of self-control. Rin shivered.

"I love your mouth," he said. He reached up, sweeping his fingers across her jawline, under her chin. His thumb brushed across her thumb and when she opened her mouth he slipped it in and she sucked on it. He hissed through his teeth, a grimace of control on his face.

He just stared at her, eyes hot and glazed. Beneath his chest hair his skin was red, his breaths ragged and husky. And fuck he was--the--his cock was--he had his hand on her throat, fingers danced across her collarbone. She was going to explode, she was going to fall down dead right there. Kento was going to have to call 911 and explain that he didn't meant to, but he just killed his girlfriend dead.

He pushed her back, thighs over calves before his hand cradled the back of her head and he laid her on the floor. Lifting both thighs, he wrapped them around his waist, eyes locked onto hers. "Alright," he rasped, "I'm ready. I'm going to fuck you."

"Oh fuck," Rin squeaked.

He leaned forward on one forearm, whispering right against her ear, "I want you, and I'm going to take you. Hard and fast until you come. And then I will come inside you." He sat up, looking hard at her and she sucked in a breath, "And you're going to take it like a good girl."

"K-kento--"

His hand braced beside her ear, her palms flattening across his broad hair chest. He lined up and pushed in, each inch by inch. Everything in her body lit up like a pinball machine. "Kento--"

He huffed between his teeth and she swore she could see the steam from the corners of his lips. "Mine," he gritted, "My prize."

Both hands planted beside her head and he forced his way into her fully. Her ass was off the floor, legs locked around his hips. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and she was surrounded by so much heat she felt like she was being cooked alive. Her fingers curled, scratching her nails into his muscles and feeling them tense.

Rin was reduced to open mouthed pleading moans, but every single one was met by a heavy but slow thrust. Kento pushed into to her, in, in, in, giving her every inch he had. Her hips lifted up, giving back, and one hand gripped onto her hips to hold her tighter. For the first time his fingers dug in hard enough that she thought she might bruise, and holy shit was it hot.

"Harder," he growled, "Gonna give harder. Hold on."

He was pounding in so hard now he was coming up onto his toes, squatting over her and fucking into her until stars exploded behind her eyes. She was panting, begging, "Take... Just--just take everything, everything, Kento! Take all of it! All of me! Please please fucking please--"

The back of her head hit the hardwood when she came, yelling loud and incoherent and hoarse, cunt tightening hard around his cock and coming until he was as dizzy from it as she was.

The hand on her hips was joined on the other side by his other hand as he lifted her up and let himself fall back flat. Under her ass, he scooped her and just started to push her up and down over and over, fast and ruthless. All she could do was groan, nodding as if he'd asked permission. Too dazed to even react as one of his grunts actually leaked into a whine.

"Come here," he commanded, still fucking up into her when his hand gripped the back of her head and pushed her down to kiss her. His tongue surged into her mouth, his lips pressing hard enough to hers that she tasted copper.

"Gonna come inside," he huffed, "So much."

"Yes," Rin sobbed, nodding "I want you inside me when you come."

For a moment, he held his breath, pushing in and holding still. His cock throbbed so hard, so close that he didn't want to breathe. If he did, he was sure he'd lose it.

"Whatever you want," he whispered. His palm slid up her back, fingers splaying out over her shoulder. The other hand moved down her other arm and fit his hand into hers. Their fingers slotted together, just right, and he squeezed.

"Kento," Rin moaned. She shifted her hips, thrusting down further and then--she couldn't stop. Couldn't hold back. She rode him, holding his hand and gasping. She knew damn well she was whining like he was fucking her, but watching him squirm this time made her just go harder.

His palm dropped from her shoulder to her ass, fingers digging into her ass. And that was it. That's all she wrote. Kento was gone, flying so high with his climax that near-scream ripped from his throat. Rin whimpered as her own body gave in, milking at his cock and taking it gratefully as his balls emptied.

Eventually his panting slowed, his hips lowering back to the floor and eyes blinking. He dragged a hand down his eyes, wiping off his mouth on the way before he looked up at her. She looked just as shocked, one hand still on his chest and the other still gripped so hard to his that her knuckles were white.

"Kento..." She whispered, her eyes glistening.

"Yeah," he breathed, nodding a little, "Yeah... That was absolutely incredible."

"What the hell is this costume," Rin sighed, reaching down to tug at the little bow. The bell clinked a little and his arm wrapped around her waist as he sat them both up.

"You should run from me more," he rasped, licking his lips, "Until you can't run any longer..."

Want your own custom smut? Pairings for whatever or your own OC! Check out my Ko-fi

[yu-like-spice-dont-you-squidward]

What's Wine like as a Sugar Daddy? >:3

He’s a sinful gentleman.

When you’re together, he’ll always drive, letting you be the passenger princess/prince. His clawed hands will almost always find your thigh as he drives safely and expertly with one hand. His sockets will never leave the road, but if you’ve been particularly naughty, his fingers may travel up further just enough to tease you where you’re most sensitive, knowing you’ll reach your destination long before you get any relief.

He’ll always open doors for you, including the car door. One of his favorite moves is to open the car door, offer you a hand to help you out, and once you are, he’ll bring your hand to his teeth to press a kiss there. Perhaps a little nibble as well.

He pays for everything, of course. Extravagant restaurants, expensive wines, and fashion shows. A new computer? You’ll find one on your desk in the morning with a lovely note from him. Tickets to a concert that’s sold out? Somehow there’s two VIP tickets on your nightstand accompanied by your favorite flowers. Name it, and he’ll buy it. You’re his mate, and you’ll want for nothing.

The skele-house is… rowdy, to say the least, but you’re always welcome. Needless to say, though, he often takes you to the most luxurious of hotels for your nights of passion.

He’s a rather rough and sadistic lover, so talking boundaries is much needed. But if you’re down for it, you’ll be left sore in the best ways, come morning time. Any major aches and pains will be healed by him, because with your permission he will use you as he wishes until he’s satisfied (or, ofc, the safe word is called). He’ll always murmur praises in your ear as he cleans you up.

If you’re into something a little softer, he can have just as much fun being a slow and sensuous lover. He still likes to tease you within an inch of your life though, so tread lightly.

Either way he’s a talkative lover. Be it degradation or praise that you’re into, if he’s not busy with his mouth on you he’s making you flush with the dirtiest of dirty talk.

And as with any relationship with Wine, his job is very time demanding. You’ll have to be okay with the fact that he’s not around a lot. He works odd hours, and long hours. He definitely makes up for lost time once you’re together again, but just be sure he’s resting properly, too. He tends to avoid that.

[twignotstick]

TMNT: SECOND SHOT - Arc 1, Chapter 9: Loose Ends 🧵

<- Chapter 8: Spoken Poetry 🗣️

Warnings (if there's anything I should add here, tell me please!): threats, violence, body horror, vomit

Words: 3,464

Summary: Old colleagues clash, and the family is reminded that the stakes are high.

----------------------

A wheeze.

“Breathe through it.”

A hacking cough.

“You've got this Scout, I-I'm right here.”

A shaky wretch.

“Big Brother's right here to help you.”

A sob, clutching his aching chest.

“I'm right here.”

The protector had long forgotten the shock of hearing his own voice (The voice he wasn't supposed to have.). He had shaken off the disgusting feeling of throwing up his insides. All of that stopped mattering when he heard the stuttered breathing of his youngest brother.

The scout had been heaving and coughing for what felt like hours. His older brother kneeled over him, hovering finned hands a few inches away. Scout usually loved physical contact, but at times like these it could worsen things by volumes. He didn't want to risk that when his brother couldn't respond with a boundary. Still, not being able to do anything was killing him.

He was never able to do anything.

After an eternity, the turtle's gut was adequately emptied. The last bits of spit dribbled from his beak as he shivered.

“All done. I-It's all better, see? Do you feel better?”

The scout looked up from his shaking curl blearily. The figure of his oldest brother was blurred by the tears still left in his eyes. “...P-Protector?” he rasped.

“Y-yeah, it's me lil man. I'm here for you.”

The scout hesitated before whispering again. “...where's Big Brother?”

The protector would be heartbroken, but this was a heartbreak he had already faced many years ago. When they still spoke like they used to, they would know, when one of them referred to another with something like “Big Brother”, which one they were referring to. The turtle way of communication allowed for that kind of distinction. The human way, however, did not.

The protector knew who the scout was referring to.

When the turtles were young, very young, they had to learn a harsh reality. Their little brother had something terrible in him, and it made him hurt. If he flinched too quickly, he would have tears flooding his eyes until someone assured him it was okay to cry. Then, he would sob himself to sleep.

When they were very young, their father was the only one who could console him. He would rub the young turtle's shell and whisper to him in soft hisses. Hold him closely, but gently.

The scavenger couldn't stand it. Not for lack of trying, of course. There was just something terrible about it. Sometimes, he would say that he hurt too, just watching. He wouldn't dare try to comfort his little brother. He knew he would just cry himself and make the scout more upset.

The protector wanted to help so badly. His very existence was keeping his brothers safe and healthy. Protecting them. So, when he saw his little brother plagued with a pain from within that he couldn't get rid of, he tried to help.

He just couldn't.

The protector didn't know how to be gentle like their father did. He would try to rub his little brother's shell, but that would only lead to hiding and screaming. So, he settled on just being as present as he could. He hated being too intense.

For a short while, they didn't think anyone except their father could help.

One day, their father had been out gathering supplies. The scout, or the one who would become the scout, started having one of his “episodes”. The protector did what he always did; he was present. He tried soothing his brother, but to no avail.

Then the hunter approached.

The hunter who, up to this point, had hardly communicated with anyone but their father.

He took the scout's shaking form into his arms. He rubbed the edge of the younger's carapace, terrifying the protector. He'll just start screaming, and then the scavenger will start crying, and-

He leaned into the comfort, even more deeply than he did with their father. 

The brothers understood the hunter more after that. They recognized that he struggled with communicating how he cared, so he chose to show it through his actions. They understood that he knew how to control his strength, while the protector didn't.

The protector also understood that he couldn't help his youngest brother then, just like now.

He didn't need Big Brother. He needed his Big Brother.

“I don't know where he is, Scout,” the older turtle conceded. “But we're going to find him. I promise.”

“...what's that noise? Noises?” The younger squeaked.

“These are… our voices, I th-think. Scav might know. We have to find him,” the protector said, looking up at the small room they were held in.

A door. A small work desk, with some papers on it, along with a computer. No windows. The two puddles of red bile from just a few minutes ago.

“...wh-why are we talking? I thought we couldn't do- That's a thing the humans do, we can't do that, right?” The scout asked, still keeping his voice soft so as to not irritate his injured throat.

“Y-yeah, I'm trying not to think too much about it before we find Scav.”

“Why aren't they here with us? W… where are we now?”

The protector sighed and hovered his hand next to his brother's. “I don't know. We're going to find them.”

The scout grabbed his brother's hand and held it, trying to comfort his big brother. “I know we will,” he confirmed. 

The protector deliberated for a moment, observing the scout's still shaky form. “Do you… think you can walk?”

The scout tried to brace himself on his hands, only to find a pulsing pain in his wrists. His writhing from before hadn't done him many favors. Deep grooves cuffed his wrists, ankles, and neck. The injury on his neck was obviously the worst.

Seeing a flash of white, the turtle fell back down onto his elbows. His brother squeezed lightly on his hand and guided his breathing again.

“I'll take that as a no, then.”

“Ye- KHH- e-eah…”

The protector weighed his options. He could go out on his own, look for his brothers alone. But if he did that, he'd be leaving his baby brother alone in his time of need.

He could try carrying his brother on his back. But thinking of that, he remembered the various bruises and cuts he had received in the conflict with the robots. There was no way he could get far with a whole body against his broken carapace, even one as small as the scout's.

He was talking, so maybe he could…

“I'm gonna try something.”

The protector sighed and planted one knee on the ground.

“...what are you doing?”

He dragged his other leg to plant his foot, bracing himself on the knee.

“Woah…”

The rest came naturally, and before he knew it, he was standing.

With a shaky grin, the older turtle looked at the younger. He fought to ignore the queasiness threatening to spill his stomach again. “I think I can… carry you?” He whispered carefully. Slowly, he lowered his upper body and lifted the scout in a princess carry, getting a small squeak in response. “Tell me if it hurts too much, but try to stay quiet. I think stealth will be our friend here.” The scout gave an exaggerated nod, shutting his eyes tight. Showing his full faith in his brother's ability.

Expression growing determined, the protector readied himself and rammed his shoulder into the door. He nearly lost his balance and cracked when he heard the whimpering coming from the brother in his arms. Seeing the door not go down, he had to ram it one more time. This time, it crashed to the ground, and he had to quickly regain his balance to not fall with the weight in his arms.

It was strange, because for a moment he could have sworn there was more weight behind the door than there should have been.

Judging by the lopsided way the door was lying on the ground and the armored arm stuck out to the side, he was right.

“Whoops…”

----------------------

April was so unbelievably overwhelmed. Internally, she was screaming at herself. How is any of this even happening? Why did I have to get involved with these crazy mutants? Mutants! How did I even get here?

On the outside, she kept her composure. Her best friend, however, was externally losing it. At some point, April decided that she had to keep it together so there was at least one human who could help with major decision making.

As she watched Splinter, she caught some interesting details. The rat's joints were old, but in combat he moved with unparalleled dexterity. He spoke with a pride in his voice; especially when speaking about his self proclaimed sons. It was somewhat bizarre to think about, but made sense when he clarified that he had found them at their birth. Splinter only explained what he needed to and withheld many details. He claimed it would be a “waste of time” to elaborate.

And despite his mystery, he was kind. He made sure that with every batch of guards they ran into, CJ and April got out of it without taking a single hit. He spoke reverently about his sons’ skills, and admirably at April and CJ when they asked about certain things they had been theorizing before. Like how yes, “Tiny” and himself were the best at understanding human speech, with “Wit” not far behind.

There was still no word from Stockman, but April had largely forgotten about him.

The sound of a struggle ripped April from her thoughts. It appeared to be coming from ahead of their little trio, and Splinter was clearly intrigued. “I believe we are getting close,” he whispered. “We must move s-slowly now.”

Heeding the rat's advice, April followed behind him at an easy pace, with CJ holding up the rear. The sound of fighting started to lessen as people went down. Weapons clattered against the tile and some shouts rang out. “Sedate them already!” “Behind you!” “What is this thing?!”

The shouts died down, and all that was left was one set of heavy breathing and another's hushed voice. Young, squeaky. 

“There's someone else here.”

Splinter's guard dropped completely, and he rounded the corner. 

“FATHER!”

A hulking figure slammed into the rat, wrapping its arms around him. April and CJ lifted their weapons on reflex, then noticed the spiky shell on the figure's back.

When the turtle backed off a bit to take a better look at his father, another figure barreled into Splinter and knocked him onto his rear. CJ's guard immediately went back up, but April held out an arm to keep him back as they watched their old friend.

“Father!” Wit shouted. “You're okay! And you're here! And you- you were standing like we were!” Wit gasped and pulled away from his tight hug on Splinter. “Wait, does that mean you-”

“Yes, my s-sons,” Splinter laughed out. “I-”

“OHMIGOSH!” Wit flapped his hands as he looked up to Spiky. “This is INCREDIBLE, HUNTER!”

Spiky sent a small smirk to the humans watching the scene, then leaned down to help their rat father up. “Yeah, sure, Scav.”

April quickly took stock of the new voices. Wit (or Scav?) sounded younger; like puberty wasn't done with him just yet. He sounded excitable and eager. Comparatively, Spiky (or Hunter) sounded older and more experienced. His voice had a certain gravelly tone, yet still remained light.

With all three mutants standing again, April couldn't help but remember their exceptionally familial bond. Splinter held the faces of his sons and looked them over, fussing when he found new bruises and cuts. Scav kept asking questions and bouncing on the balls of his feet. Hunter tried to calm him down and encouraged waiting for answers, but Scav was too eager.

All the while, Hunter kept sending glances to the humans. April waved back reluctantly, knowing that CJ behind her was probably much too stunned to respond. The wave caused a grin to grace Hunter's beaked face, and he tossed his arm around his little brother’s shoulders.

“Hey Scav! Check who else showed up for us,” Hunter said, gesturing to the humans with his free hand.

Scav finally looked up to the others in the hall, and his eyes widened in surprise. Then his face fell into a small scowl as he returned his eyes to Hunter. “Oh, shut it,” he grumbled.

“Shut it?” Hunter asked with mock offense, letting go of the smaller turtle. “Shut what? I didn't say nothin’!”

“You know what you implied.”

“Oh what, implied that I was right? Hm? That you were wrong? That we didn't get sold out by nobody?”

Scav huffed. “First of all, you should say we didn't get sold out by anybody, just like you should say you didn't say anything. Not nobody, not nothing.”

“So you agree?”

“Eh-” Scav paused. “Agree on what?”

“That we didn't get sold out by anybody?”

Scav waved his hands a bit more and sent a few looks to the humans. “Ack- This confirms nothing! I-if anything, the fact that they're wielding weapons implies-”

“Wowowoah.” April stepped a bit closer, causing Scav to jump. “Do you think we sold you out to those sci-fi freaks?” she asked.

Scav said nothing, instead flicking his vision around a bit more. Hunter sighed and said, “This dork was blaming himself for us being in here, even though its obviously not his fault.”

“I-” Scav squeaked, “Couldn't this conversation have waited until, maybe, we were in a private place? Or our brothers weren't missing, and in potential peril?!”

“What do you expect me to do? Let my little bro simmer in his stupid guilt when obviously you were wrong, and I was right?”

“There's a first time for everything,” Scav mumbled.

“SO YOU ADMIT IT!”

“Fine!” Scav swung his arms down and smacked his thighs. “I was wrong, you were right, can we be done with this?!”

Contented, Hunter placed a heavy hand on his fuming brother's shell. “Yes, yes we can.”

“Oookay then,” CJ said, finally stepping out into full view as Splinter snickered at his sons’ behavior, “let's get a couple things straight so we can get you guys outta here. Your names are..?”

“Uh, complicated?” Scav said. “My role is the scavenger, so my brothers call me Scav, but our naming conventions are very different than those of humans, so-”

“So a problem for another time. Got it. I'm CJ, this is April.” CJ clapped his hands together. “More important: where are the rest of you?!”

“We don't know.” Hunter stepped up. “The guard I pinned said they were in the ‘west wing’.”

“Which we are in right now,” Scav explained. “They have to be close. We've been searching every room we can, but we haven't found them yet.”

“With you both here,” Splinter added, “I can probably t-track them more accurately.”

“What are the names you use for them?" April asked. “It'll be easier for us to communicate with them if we know.”

Scav squeaked. “Well, again, our naming conventions differ greatly from your human ones. So, really, it's less names, and more titles or roles.” Seeing his older brother glaring from the side, Scav halted his rambling. “Buuut, our older brother's role is Protector, (which still sounds absolutely bizarre in English,) and our younger brother is-”

A blood curdling scream echoed through the hall. It penetrated everyone's skulls, and the mutants’ eyes all widened in shock, turning sharply to the source.

“SCOUT!”

In a snap, all of them were in motion. The mutants covered the ground at a blinding speed, much faster than before. April was caught completely off guard by the sudden change of pace. Splinter had been moving briskly before, sure, but this was unbelievable.

Maybe they really were built to be super soldiers.

As they came closer to the noise, the yelling only got louder and was joined by a second, deeper voice screaming as well. Soldiers shouted commands and the sounds of electricity ripped through the air.

The red in the halls glinted in their eyes.

----------------------

Baxter cowered behind yet another wall, trying to channel all of his energy into not making a single sound. The office was in sight; still located exactly where it had been the last time he had been here, all those years ago. He couldn't risk anything now.

No guards in the hall. No cameras. Honestly, it was a wonder how poorly guarded the room was.

It couldn't be this easy, could it?

The office door was left unlocked, allowing Baxter to creep inside and approach the desk. Papers were strewn about, where he could read details about the project. “Ooze”. That was always the less professional term they chose to use for the pure mutagen. Baxter came up with it. Barry never bothered to ask him why.

Some of the papers were the old ones, from when the project was first started. Some were new, speaking of alternative methods and starting the whole thing over. But yet, Barry always circled back to the original subjects. He didn't write about Splinter, but he wrote about the turtles.

Sometimes, he even used the names Baxter gave them.

Baxter ignored the papers as best he could, instead sitting himself in front of the large computer monitor on the desk. He remembered every one of Barry's passwords, and it seemed that Barry hadn't changed them. It was easy to get into the computer and find where he was hiding his connection to the mouser system. Then, the steps were elementary. Wipe any and all connections to the mouser system, and destroy any photos from it that Barry had saved.

The loading bar was only about 60% done when he heard footsteps.

Baxter ducked down under the desk, crawling around it to stay out of view. The footsteps came into the room, stopping a few feet away from his hiding place.

The sirens in the hall almost quieted, due to the buzzing in his ears.

“I know you're here, Baxter.”

He didn't dare breathe.

“The monster broke out, but it would never come in here. It would have tried to kill me as soon as it heard my voice, or smelled me in the hall. But you, my friend. You know when to hide.”

Barton Axum moved further into the room, barely by two steps.

“Come out now, Baxter. I don't want you to get hurt. I'm only here to help you.”

He couldn't hold his breath anymore, so Baxter conceded and stood slowly, glaring at his ex-partner. “How kind of you to have any semblance of sympathy, when you are the one who intends to hurt me.”

“I am not. Master Shredder is.”

Baxter felt utterly confused by the strange tone Barton carried. “Who is that?”

For the first time in many years, Baxter saw fear in Barton's eyes. “I am sorry to admit that I lied to you, Baxter. When we first conducted our project, the funding and materials I provided did not come from my family. They came from a very generous benefactor, and a very powerful man, known by the name of Master Shredder. When you stupidly destroyed all of our progress, the Master nearly killed me until I offered to help him with his other work. When you helped me discover our subjects again, I was given permission to pursue them under the condition that you would come to help me finish them.”

“And why should I help you, Barton?”

“Because if you don't, both of us will die.” Barton was beginning to look desperate. “Shredder is a very powerful man, and he has very powerful connections. Even without us, he will find new people to take on the project, capture the subjects again, and make his army.”

“Army?”

Barton nodded solemnly. “Please, Baxter. You're my only friend. I don't want you to die.”

Baxter hesitated. He hadn't seen this amount of vulnerability from Barry in years. “And what of the girl? April?”

“She will work for the Shredder or die.”

Baxter glanced at the red light in the hall, thinking of the girl who had agreed to give him a second chance. And her friend, who was still an unknown accomplice. If this Master Shredder was as powerful as Barry said, his secret would be found out soon enough.

The loading bar finally hit 100%, severing all of Barry's connections to Baxter's technology.

“This is all my fault, and I can't be more sorry,” Barry said softly. “I only wish to keep you safe now.”

Baxter sighed defeatedly. “You're too far gone now, Barry.”

Barry smiled a small, nearly invisible smile. “As are you.”

○●○●○●○

getting really close to the end of the arc :)

Chapter 10: To Be Reborn 🌸 ->

[bogkeep]

you know what. at this point i feel like i'm circling the topic of my trauma like water around a drain. maybe i'll just talk about it.

this is gonna be a personal one.

i was stalked, harassed, and smeared. it was years ago and i'm doing good now, but it's the worst thing that has ever happened to me. i've been referring to it as The Trauma for a while, but only recently realised i just straight up have PTSD from it.

i hate that that's what it took to finally understand how to set and hold a boundary. i hate how much better my internet habits are now, because of that. i hate that the way to keep myself safe and at peace was to never, ever speak a word of it in public lest it be used against me, and that i'm still scared of it. but what more can they do to me? they've already tried it all, and i'm still here, and the ground can't collapse under my feet anymore.

the long and messy buildup to a break up with a friend was horrible enough, but it probably wouldn't have scarred me as badly if i hadn't been stalked for well over a year afterwards. i say stalking even if it was all online, a whole ocean apart - they made themself present in every space i frequented, and i've become intimately familiar with the blocking and blacklisting systems on every platform i'm on. they tried to get to me through my roommates and my irl friends. it's difficult to fully describe how cornered i felt even in the vast infinity of the fucking internet. i regret nothing, though. cutting them off was my last resort and the best thing i ever did. i'd do it again a million times - i kind of had to, since it was less akin to severing a string and more like having to behead an eel in a bathtub full of oil that also happened to be a hydra.

i had no control over the narrative other than whatever trust my friends had in me, and i lost quite a lot of friends. (i saw one of them block me in real time.) there was this absolute helplessness of it, because what could i possibly do or say to prove that i was not a cruel or unsafe person to be around? i've never held it against them.

(i wonder, sometimes. do they ever think of me? do they shrug and move on?)

it felt so stupid, really, to feel this anxious about my reputation. oh, no!! not my precious reputation!!!!!!!! but it's

well

how do you recover your reputation? on the internet? it's such an easy thing to ruin, and it was deeply shameful to realise how easily i've swallowed the same bait myself, so many times before. never about friends, i think, but, y'know. can't fault anyone for wanting to stay safe, be it from Supposedly Skeevy Creators or the panopticon.

the worst part was how my own mind felt like wet, crumpled up paper, constantly doubting my own reality of who i am. how do i know i'm not cruel? how do i know i'm safe to be around? what if i was extorting and manipulating the masses, even if that was not my conscious intention? it took a long time to be able to do or say something nice again without intrusive thoughts flooding my brain.

i think i always knew somewhere inside of me that no, of course i'm not an evil mastermind, that's a very silly thought. i don't even believe in evil. but it's like - if i had done something wrong, then at least it would be something i could change about myself. if it was my fault, then it was within my control.

the longer it went on, the easier it was to convince myself that i didn't deserve this. yes, even if i had done... whatever it was i had supposedly done that was so deserving of punishment, i felt like nobody deserved this much punishment. like, it was a truly excessive amount of punishment, going on far beyond the point of contructivity - i wasn't doing anything. i wasn't doing anything to begin with, and whatever it was that i had been doing, i had stopped now! there were only two remaining explanations of my Crimes:

my mere existence was bad, and i would have to completely erase myself from the internet. - no, i was not so far gone as to believe that.

cutting off my friend was the most heinous act of mental violence ever enacted. - no, i did not believe that either. i wasn't super good at boundaries but i've always been a strong believer that relationships are not mandatory. - well i definitely didn't want to be their friend anymore now, and from the sounds of it, i couldn't imagine them wanting to be friends with me anymore either. - should i have ended it differently? could i have ended it differently? i had flattened myself trying to be as kind and understanding and soft and compassionate as i could be, desperately so, but that hadn't saved me. (i remember my mother asking, "but did you make it clear to them that you love them?" when i explained why i wanted to see a therapist again.) maybe if i had just blocked them without preamble on day one.

i had no choice but to accept the sheer injustice of what was being done to me.

regaining my sanity was a bit of a process. i'm very thankful for my friends. (i'm not thankful for the therapy rejection letter telling me i wasn't depressed enough to qualify. it took me a while to get an actual therapist that wasn't a tarot deck.)

i hesitate to call myself lucky, but i was. even with every paranoid prediction and worst fear coming true, i outlasted them. yes sure i sometimes cried uncontrollably to the point i got sent home from work once, yes i lost weight because i was too nauseous from the stress to eat properly, yes i had nightmares about them and yes i would have physical trauma reactions every time i saw their name written anywhere even though it belonged to completely different people, yes, yes - i fucking survived all of that. i had solid foundations to stand on.

even in the forest fire of my social circles i had an incredible, wonderful support network. i feel much more secure in myself and my relationships now. i've learnt so many things - about trauma, about boundaries, about healing, about friendship, about the internet, but at what fucking cost!!!!! my pain shouldn't have been rewarding. it's a cautionary tale about how trying to be soft enough for everyone to step on inevitably leads to hurt, and yet! how fucking dare i come out better for it!

maybe this is no tale and there is no 'better'. it's a painful chapter of my life but i am not a book. i'm a real person of flesh and blood in a confusing reality where people struggle and do their best.

i can't explain why, exactly, i'm sharing this today. it's not all of it, far from it, but i think it explains well enough where i write my blogposts from. maybe i'm hoping it will help someone else. maybe i'm just ready to own my own story loudly. i'm tired of looking over my own shoulder.

thank you for reading, if you did.

[ladylilithprime]

Untangling the Heart

Series: Fluffy Faerie Tales

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: past Sam Winchester/Jessica Moore, pre-slash Sastimmy/Jamstiel (Jimmy Novak/Sam Winchester/Castiel)

Rating: Teen and Up

Tags/Warnings: Half-Fae Sam Winchester, Jimmy and Castiel Are Twins, Selkie Jack Kline, Sam Winchester Is Jack Kline's Adopted Father, Brief Allusions to Canonical Character Death, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Hair Brushing, Faerie Culture, Discussions of Balancing Debt, Ethics of Accepting Intimacy Under Contract

Summary: Routines took time to develop, whether by choice or by accident, but they always had one point where it began.

For: @fluffyfebruary challenge!

Prompt: Day 17: Pleasure

Read on AO3

ROUTINES FORM THROUGH repetition of an action, sequence of actions, or events that occur more than once by deliberate design, becoming commonplace and familiar, even comforting. To become a routine, however, there must first be an impetus, a starting moment when the act or event is introduced as a potential variable. Some routines were more deliberate than others, such as establishing a routine of brushing your teeth in the morning and again in the evening. Others tended to happen more by accident of circumstance, such as taking a shower immediately upon coming home from a fourteen-hour shift at a cafe one happened to own-- a necessity during the early years when one had a very young child and was still feeling one's way through single fatherhood while also being determined to do better than one's older brother.

In the week following the sealing of the bargain between Sam and the Novak brothers, the normal routines began to shift a bit even as others began to crop up. Learning to live together, even for only a week, required some careful negotiations around the establishing of and unavoidable infringement on personal boundaries. Sam still showered immediately upon coming home, but Jimmy and Cas preferred to shower after dinner once Jack had gotten his own bath and been put to bed. Jimmy had also taken over cooking since he and Cas couldn't safely eat Sam's cooking the way Jack could as a selkie. This left Cas to either help Jimmy in the kitchen or entertain Jack, both of which he excelled at.

It was therefore something of a surprise when, just after getting out of the shower, Sam heard a cautious knock on the door to his bedroom. It was heavier and more hesitant than Jack's usual knock, so Sam checked that his limited glamor was still up, then dropped the towel from his hair and slung it around his waist before calling out, "Come in!"

The door opened and a Novak cautiously poked his head around the edge of the door, eyes on the carpet. Sam thought it might have been Cas, and this was born out when he said, "Jimmy would like to inquire about the viability of addendums to the grocery list posted on your refrigerator."

"Of course, either of you may add or request alterations to anything on the list," Sam said, nodding even though Cas had not looked up. He hesitated a moment, then added, "If you have particular favorites or something we usually have causes sensory or allergy problems for you, please do let me know. Grocery day is usually on Fridays."

It was Thursday.

Cas nodded, but didn't immediately withdraw. He seemed to be thinking about something, and Sam let him be, absently reaching up to his hair to start working the tangles free with his fingers until he could get ahold of his comb. He probably ought to put on pants as well, since humans tended to be a bit funny about nudity, even partial nudity, and it was possible that Cas was keeping his eyes down for more reasons than just his already admitted aversion to eye contact.

"Thank you," Cas said abruptly. Sam stiffened, feeling the weight behind the words, the acknowledgement of Debt , but Cas was apparently not done. "What you have done... what you are doing for me and for Jimmy, it's bigger than just hospitality, even within the bounds of our bargain. There's trust involved, leaving us alone with your son and telling us of his nature when warning us against alarm if he wanders around as a seal. And offering to take our favorite foods into account in your grocery shopping, when just asking after those foods that cause us problems would be enough to see to our safety and fitness to work for you. The equivalency is off. So thank you. Jimmy can best repay your service to us through his skill at cooking and in engaging Jack. Please let me know if I can do something more for you in return."

Silence fell as Sam struggled to formulate a response to such an unexpected declaration. He supposed he could deny the debt, but he had a feeling that Cas would argue with him and the way he had laid out his reasoning for claiming an imbalance had Sam unsure if he would be able to win that argument. But to accept anything further from the man also felt... uncomfortable, particularly after Cas had clarified that he was the only one offering more. Because he felt that he could not equal his brother with cooking or entertaining Jack? Cas was certainly more reserved than Jimmy, or perhaps simply less prone to pretending a social ease he didn't feel.

And Sam was standing there, speechless and with wet hair, in nothing but a towel.

"...Could you please hand me my pants?" Sam said at length after a long moment of silent floundering. "They, uh, they're hanging from a hook on the door you're holding."

"Oh!" Cas startled, and Sam caught a glimpse of blue as his still-averted eyes went wide. He averted his own eyes and turned his head to study the wet strands of hair tangled around his fingers as the door swung further open and he heard the rustle of fabric and the shuffle of steps as Cas entered the room more fully and approached with the blue plaid lounge pants from the back of the bedroom door. He stopped a couple feet away and held out the pants within Sam's line of sight. "They're very soft."

"They're flannel," Sam murmured, a little inanely. He freed his hand from his hair, the other one still holding up the towel, and took the pants carefully, fumbling a bit to get a good grip on the front of the waistband so he could step into them and pull them up without letting the towel drop. "They're a bit much to sleep in, especially in summer, but not many fabrics match them for comfort and softness."

Cas made a quiet sound in the back of his throat that would have been a perfectly neutral hum of acknowledgement if it had not sounded just the slightest bit strangled. Sam risked a glance up towards the young man's face and caught the flush of heat pinkening his cheeks as his eyes seemed to linger on...

...Sam's own bare chest.

Oh...

Well. That was both flattering and entirely too tempting a thought. Sam wasn't precisely the horndog that his older brother was reputed to be, but he wasn't chaste, and his last dalliance of any substance was mutually ended a year and a half before Jack was born. He had been through longer "dry spells", of course, but... well, he was also just as weak to beautiful things as any of his faerie kin, and the Novak brothers were very, very beautiful men. It would be easy, as easy as letting the towel slip a fraction of a second too soon to properly conceal himself, as a tilt of his head and a brush of fingers....

Sam gripped the towel more firmly and kept it in place as he situated the lounge pants beneath it before tugging it free of his hips and returning the terrycloth to drying his hair. It would be easy, and it would be wrong to make such a move so soon after Cas had acknowledged a debt between them. That was not a payment he could accept, nor was it a pleasure he could even so much as suggest as long as there was debt between them. He would have to think of something else and hope that Cas had not noticed his distraction or guessed at the direction of his thoughts.

Whether he did or not, at least Cas didn't say one way or the other. He didn't say anything at all for a long moment, and neither did he leave, until he said abruptly, "Would you accept assistance with your hair?"

Human, Sam reminded himself, even as something in his chest tightened sharply. Cas couldn't know what it meant to a faerie to allow someone else to help tend their hair, the trust and familiarity granted only to close family... or lovers. He risked a sharp glance in Cas's direction and was surprised to see the human looking directly at him. It was no wonder Cas avoided eye contact, because it felt like Sam was reading everything in his eyes, the fear and longing and aching vulnerability and, threaded through all of it, a tenuous thread of hope tied into the trembling little waver of a smile.

"There was a rusalka exchange student in the drama department at college," he said, shaking from the effort to keep eye contact. "She handed me a comb one day and told me if I pulled her hair out she'd drown me."

Well. Maybe he understood a bit of the trust involved after all.

"I'll dig out my comb while you let your brother know what I said about the grocery list," Sam said at length, and had the pleasure of seeing the way Cas's face lit up with joy at the implied agreement to his offer.

He watched as Cas darted out of the bedroom, presumably to go and speak to Jimmy, and made himself breathe. The last person besides him to touch his hair had been Jess, and that loss was a wound on his heart that still ached even two hundred and sixty-three years later. None of his relationships since had been close enough to allow such an intimacy, though he had done his best to honor her final wishes that he not close himself off for mourning her. If he was honest, he rather thought she might have liked Cas and Jimmy, had she survived the fever that had taken her and accepted his bond the way she had accepted his hand and ring.

If he was honest, he rather missed the feeling of another person's hands in his hair.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Sam found first a shirt and then the comb. By the time Cas returned, he had managed to towel dry most of his hair himself and was settled on the edge of the bed with space behind him for Cas to sit. If there was a slight tingle that passed between his fingertips and Cas's along with the comb, well, he kept that to himself and Cas made no mention of it. And Cas was, as promised, good enough with hair with his delicate touch and attention to detail that even a tempermental rusalka would approve.

Perhaps he wouldn't mind this happening again.

[thejesusmaninred]

"The Dea." From Mark 1: 14-15.

John, thorough complete knowledge of the Torah, goes to prison, which in Judaism means he is kept in a safe place, free from heresy or criticism. This is the only way to instate prison reform.

Jesus, however, goes to Galilee to make a proclamation: "It's time to grow up."

"The verb גלל (galal) primarily expresses rolling, whirling or heaping and may also denote a broad sweep (of land or time).

Noun גל (gal) means heap or pile; גיל (gel), a heap specifically of dung; גלל (galal), dung; גלול (gillul), idols. Noun גלה (gulla) means bowl, basin or spring; noun גלילה (gelila), circuit, boundary or territory.

Noun גליל (galil) denotes a supporting cylinder or rod; adjective גליל (galil), probably describes a cylindrical hinge column, noun מגלה (megilla) means scroll.

Noun גלגל (gilgal) means wheel; noun גלגל (galgal), wheel or whirlwind. Noun גלגלת (gulgoleth) means skull or head. In cognate languages verb גלל (galal) extends to also describe the nobility of someone who rules a region.

The parallel verb גיל (gil) expresses a circular motion as is mostly associated with expressions of joy and celebration (dance). Nouns גיל (gil) and גילה (gila) mean a rejoicing. Noun גיל (gil) describes a circle or time: an age."

Announcements in religion always incorporate good and bad news together. The good news is you will be very happy. The bad news is you have to stop sleeping and being a whore and settle down.

The Good News Jesus speaks of is the same:

Jesus Announces the Good News

14 After John was put in prison, Jesus went into Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God. 15 “The time has come,” he said. “The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!”

The Number is 10194, ייטד, yatde, "the peg, the stake" except the kind that pegs or wedges within a water wheel so it can be stopped and turned the other way.

The etymology suggests Jesus in no way planned to reveal what the Kingdom of God was like. His words mean it was time to find out, but He was not going to give us the answers. Mankind had not yet nor has it since proven it is willing to do what God says, so there was no proof.

"The Hebrew verb ידע (yada') means to know. This very important root occurs 944 times in the Old Testament and is found across the Semitic language spectrum. Its Greek counterpart is γινωσκω (ginosko).

This verb is used in all the expected ways, but most notably in Proverbs 1:7, where it reads: "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge". Since knowledge is typically obtained through the senses, the mere act of observation appears to be equal with fearing God.

Another notable usage of our verb is in the procreative sense: when a man "knows" a woman, he's having sex with her (Genesis 4:1, Judges 11:39), and this says quite a bit about how the Hebrews saw marriage and the process of learning. The Word of God was of course personified, and so learning about the laws of nature was deemed equal to being in a marriage relationship with the Creator.

Our verb may also describe knowledge that is not so much cognitive but rather empirical or experiential. Ecclesiastes 8:5 states that 'he who keeps the commandment will know no evil', which refers to the experience of bad things rather than a cognitive examination of vice. In that same vein, the dire consequences of eating from the 'tree of knowledge of good and evil' obviously does not refer to the dangers of learning or scientific rebellion (learning and science are held in the highest possible regard in the Bible) but rather the notion that chomping off the wrong branch is going to make bad things happen to you.

The derivatives of this verb are:

The masculine noun דע (dea') meaning knowledge (Job 36:4) or judgment or opinion (Job 36:3).

The feminine noun דעה (dea'), also meaning knowledge (1 Samuel 2:3; "A God of knowledge is YHWH", Jeremiah 3:15).

The feminine noun דעת (da'at), also meaning knowledge (Genesis 2:9, Joshua 20:3). This noun is the most common word for knowledge.

The masculine noun ידעני (yidde'oni), denoting a familiar spirit (Leviticus 19:31, 1 Samuel 28:3, Isaiah 8:19). This word is commonly translated with sorcerer or magician.

The masculine noun מודע (moda') or מדע (moda'), meaning relative or kinsman (Ruth 2:1, Proverbs 7:4).

The feminine noun מדעת (moda'at), meaning kindred or kinship (Ruth 3:2 only).

The masculine noun מדע (madda'), meaning knowledge (2 Chronicles 1:10), or literally: the place of knowledge, or thought (Ecclesiastes 10:20).

The adverb מדוע (madua') or מדע (maddua'), expressing an inquisition: why? This word is probably a contraction from מה־ידוע (me-yadua'), meaning: what being known?"

Repentance in Judaism is a complicated thing. The rites named in the Torah are ornate. When Jesus said to repent, He meant it. From Emor. All sin happens after the Sabbath, after one is innocent. From the moment of the First Fruits, one can sin again. The Shabbat is a delicate moment if one cannot retain knowledge of the First Fruit, i.e. there is good and evil, right and wrong, there are choices and impositions:

15 “‘From the day after the Sabbath, the day you brought the sheaf of the wave offering, count off seven full weeks. [implies the scum and schchmegma of Egypt has been retted free] 16 Count off fifty days up to the day after the seventh Sabbath, and then present an offering of new grain to the Lord. 

17 From wherever you live, bring two loaves made of two-tenths of an ephah of the finest flour, baked with yeast, as a wave offering of firstfruits to the Lord. 

18 Present with this bread seven male lambs, each a year old and without defect, one young bull and two rams. They will be a burnt offering to the Lord, together with their grain offerings and drink offerings—a food offering, an aroma pleasing to the Lord. 

19 Then sacrifice one male goat for a sin offering[g] and two lambs, each a year old, for a fellowship offering.

 20 The priest is to wave the two lambs before the Lord as a wave offering, together with the bread of the firstfruits. They are a sacred offering to the Lord for the priest. 

21 On that same day you are to proclaim a sacred assembly and do no regular work. This is to be a lasting ordinance for the generations to come, wherever you live.

22 “‘When you reap the harvest of your land, do not reap to the very edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. Leave them for the poor and for the foreigner residing among you. I am the Lord your God.’”

There is no way to understand what God meant without proper translation. Each word has meaning on its own, but for the sake of brevity we will use the Values in Gematria which create an idiomatic expression of blocks of text:

v. 15-16: Count off Seven Weeks. The Number is 10999, י'‎ץץט‎, "the way of life, the milieu."

=

It must not take a thousand years for mankind to figure out how to turn his act around. The maximum amount of time God will allow is seven weeks. In Torah time, this means all Seven Noachide Laws must be enforced immediately, all at once.

v. 17: Bring a wave offering. "Say goodbye." The Number is 12609, יבו‎ אֶפֶסט, yves epsest, "you've lost zero."

v. 18: Present seven male lambs, "innocent beliefs." The Number 11949, יאטדד‎ ‎ , yatdad, "be on the side of, take sides, look with favor on..." = the Beersheba, Seven Noachide Laws.

"The 7 Noahide Laws are rules that all of us must keep, regardless of who we are or from where we come. Without these seven things, it would be impossible for humanity to live together in harmony.

Do not profane G‑d’s Oneness in any way. Acknowledge that there is a single G‑d who cares about what we are doing and desires that we take care of His world.

Do not curse your Creator. No matter how angry you may be, do not take it out verbally against your Creator.

Do not murder. The value of human life cannot be measured. To destroy a single human life is to destroy the entire world—because, for that person, the world has ceased to exist. It follows that by sustaining a single human life, you are sustaining an entire universe.

Do not eat a limb of a still-living animal. Respect the life of all G‑d’s creatures. As intelligent beings, we have a duty not to cause undue pain to other creatures.

Do not steal. Whatever benefits you receive in this world, make sure that none of them are at the unfair expense of someone else.

Harness and channel the human libido. Incest, adultery, and homosexual relations are forbidden. The family unit is the foundation of human society. Sexuality is the fountain of life and so nothing is more holy than the sexual act. So, too, when abused, nothing can be more debasing and destructive to the human being.

Establish courts of law and ensure justice in our world. With every small act of justice, we are restoring harmony to our world, synchronizing it with a supernal order. That is why we must keep the laws established by our government for the country’s stability and harmony.

These laws were communicated by G‑d to Adam and Noah, ancestors of all human beings. That is what makes these rules universal, for all times, places and people:

Laws made by humans may change according to circumstance. But laws made by the Creator of all souls over all of time remain the same for all people at all times..

If we would fulfill these laws just because they make sense to us, then we would change them, according to our convenience. We would be our own god. But when we understand that they are the laws of a supreme G‑d, we understand that they can not be changed, just as He does not change.

Today, we are on the verge of a new era for humankind, a time when we will finally live together in peace and the world will be filled with divine wisdom. Those who keep these basic rules will have a share in that world, since, after all, they took part in making it possible.

Although these teachings were recorded in the sacred Jewish texts, for many centuries Jews were not able to speak about them to the people they lived amongst. But in recent times, the foremost rabbi of the Jewish people in the 20th century, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory, encouraged Jews to publicize these teachings, so that the world can prepare for the times of peace and wisdom that are swiftly approaching."

v. 19-20: They are a sacred offering. The Number 11784, יאזחד‎ ‎‎, yazhad, "be daring, dare to be smart."

"The verb חדד (hadad) means to be sharp or keen or even swift, and its similarity to the form חדה (hada) is probably the reason why scholars translate the latter with to be sharp. The verb חדד (hadad) is used only sporadically in the Bible: the Chaldean horses are swifter/keener than leopards (Habakkuk 1:8), a man sharpens iron into a cutting tool (Isaiah 44:12), and swords show themselves sharpened (Ezekiel 21:16). This verb's derivations are:

The adjective חד (had), meaning sharp, but only of a tongue as sharp as a sword (Psalm 57:4), a mouth as sharp as a sword (Isaiah 49:2), or a whole woman as sharp as a sword (Proverbs 5:4).

The adjective חדוד (haddud), meaning sharpened or pointed (Job 41:22 only).

For another verb that means to sharpen, but which rather reflects the repetitive motion inherent to sharpening, see שנן (shanan)."

v. 21: On that day, do no regular work. The Number is 9457, טד‎הז‎, ted haze, "offer the breast, use your heart."

"The root חזה (hzh II) is not used as a verb in the Bible, but in cognate languages it may mean to be opposite or in front. In the Bible this root shows up only in the masculine noun חזה (hazeh), denoting the breast of an animal. This word occurs only in wave-offering scenes, where it denotes the breast-piece of sacrificial animals (Exodus 29:26, Leviticus 7:30, Numbers 6:20)."

v. 22: Gather your harvest for the poor. The Number is 12018, יבאֶפֶסאח‎‎ ‎"the Eve of the Passover."

=

The Seder, which says one must recognize the causes of one's slavery to sin, one must agree to divorce oneself from all slavery to sin and its masters, and one must never return to the sin, especially those related to the spread of oppression and poverty of others."

The use of Gematria is an effective way to draw salient conclusions about the purposes of God and the gods and angels for communicating the Torah. Jesus, as the Word Made Flesh was keenly aware of this.

[after-hours-fun]

Yeah, I guess they're worth the risk. They do help when I'm alone quite a lot. 🤭

If you're gonna keep me, where do I start then? What are the rules? I take you as the kind of person who has rules for the ones she decides to keep 😉

Oh! 😳 That is quite something. I don't think I trust anyone enough for CNC or somno. Maybe one day 😊

Shibari sounds like fun and it sure looks apealing! So many intricate knots 👀 and the colors of those ropes!!! 🥰😍

Lactation sounds fun as well, but it's so odd at the sametime😖 I feel like I shouldn't like this 😫 why is it so hard?!

Primal sounds really exciting. Like a chase! I'd love to try that at least once to see how it feels 😊😂

As for voyeurism... I always loved to watch 🤭 especially if I'm not allowed to touch (myslef included).

Thank you for the explanations, sir 😊

(No worries! Life happens to all of us 😊 I'm just so excited whenever you reply. I've never done anything like this before so all this is quite the novelty for me😋 I've been blushing and giggling the whole time I was writing this🤭)

Oh I am definitely the type to have rules. Luckily, my rules (At first at least, until the sub and I get to know each other within the dynamic better) are rather simple. Since we still don't know each other too well, the rules won't be implementing them. I can however offer you a peek at a few of mine

Self care is very important. As such, I expect you to do your very best to stay hydrated and at the very least one proper meal

Safety first, a safe word needs established

If something makes you uncomfortable or nervous, speak up. Your comfort and boundaries are most important.

punishment will always fit the "crime" and if something I say will be a punishment is too much for any boundaries, then of course we can negotiate something that's fair

Yeah CNC/somno definitely require lots of trust.

And I too love the colors of the Shibari ropes haha

I was that way with lactation at first too, but I think after pursuing the kink a bit I started to accept it more and now it doesn't really bother me that I like it. 😋

Yes exactly, primal is basically a chase with a super fun reward coupled with a bit of animalistic behaviors. I also really want to try it!

Ah a fellow voyeur hm, how very fun 😏

Happy to explain! And answer any questions too.

(thank you for understanding, and I'm very glad to hear how much fun you have doing this haha. It's very cute)

[honeyhotteoks]

his sweet girl (p.sh)

summary: you and park seonghwa have an arranged relationship. he doms, you sub, and he pays for your taxi home. it's always the same until the night you both plan to indulge in each other's more intense fantasies.

note: 18+ content, minors DNI. // this fic is much more intense than my other work. please mind the tags here. seonghwa isn't mean / harming the reader, but we are dealing with more intense bdsm topics and touches of consensual non-consent, so review the tags before proceeding.

warnings: hard dom!seonghwa, sub!reader, fem!reader, role play, use of sir, impact play, punishment, dom/sub dynamics, oral (m receiving), rough oral, slapping, spitting, mocking/teasing, use of good girl/sweet girl, reader is called pet once but it isn't pet play, color system + safe words, some praise, some degradation, restraints, blindfolds, edging, light somnophilia/wake up sex, subtle breeding kink, v sweet aftercare. please let me know if i missed any.

pairings: seonghwa x reader

genre: non idol seonghwa, aged up, dom!hwa + sub!reader, smut

word count: 7.9K

my masterlist || read it on AO3

              On some level, you know tonight is about letting go, about relinquishing control and trusting him, but you can’t really imagine what it will be like. It’s about trust, trusting the other person to stay within your preset boundaries and take what they want while satisfying you as well. The knowledge that the scene is set, the guardrails are in place, and both parties know when to say stop. This is what leaves you trembling on Seonghwa’s doorstep afraid to ring the bell. Discussing everything in detail is one thing, but doing it is another. He made you feel safe, always, as a friend and as a sometimes-casual lover, but opening yourselves up further was new.

              You smooth your hands down the front of your skirt, shifting in your unfamiliar high heels and gripping the leather strap of your bag firmly. He had asked you to look a particular way, and of course you obliged. This is the easy part of the evening, something that still feels within your control and like the play acting you had done with him before. Taking a deep breath, you steady your nerves and ring the doorbell.

              It takes a moment, and you bounce a little in your heels anxiously, before you see his shadow in the frosted glass of the window. He swings open the door and gives you a warm smile, “Hello, love,”

              Your body melts, anxiety easing away instantly once you’re actually in front of him. “Hey,” you reply.

              His eyes flick over you, taking in your attire, “You look perfect,”

              “It’s what you wanted?” You ask, smoothing back your hair a bit where it rests in a high sleek ponytail.

              He waves you in over the threshold and reaches to take your coat and bag, ready to hang them up on their designated hook by the door, “Exactly what I pictured.”

              His low pleased voice sends a chill across your spine. He closes the door behind you, and you take a moment to relax into his space, tidy and organized as always, a pleasant smell of fresh laundry and lavender. When you turn to look at him again you take in his attire, he’s wearing a crisp black suit, perfectly tailored to his long lean lines. A black tie is expertly tied, secured with a silver tie pin to his clean white shirt. His hair, dark black and pushed back lets you really see his face today and admire his slightly sun kissed tan.

              He gives you a warm, close-lipped smile and cocks his head to the side, “You seem a bit nervous today,” he observes.

              “A little,” you confess, always keeping things honest with him, especially before a scene.

              He reaches a handout to you, “Let’s relax for a while, then. Maybe some wine?”

              You take his hand and let him lead you into the large, sleek kitchen at the far side of the house. “How has your week been?” he asks, pulling a bottle of red wine off the rack that hangs suspended under the cabinets.

              “Busy,” you sigh, leaning against the granite countertop of the island and watching him as he moves through the kitchen to secure some glasses.

              “Ah,” he nods, “so a stressful week?”

              You nod, his eyes flicking up to see your response while he pours the first glass of wine, turning the bottle with a smooth motion of his wrist to stop the pour at just the right moment.

              He sets two evenly poured glasses on the counter and slides one a little closer to you. “Let it breathe a moment,” he notes and then continues, “well, hopefully this weekend will help relieve some of your tension.”

              You smile, a little blush heating your cheeks, “I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

              “Have you?” He’s pleased, leaning against the counter with his hip, his eyes studying you.

              “I always enjoy seeing you,”

              “Mm,” he nods.

              “How about you, how was your week?” You shift the conversation away from the innuendo.

              “Productive,” he says, “but I’ve been looking forward to this too.”

              He takes his wine glass up off the counter and nods towards yours, indicating that you can drink should you want to. You lift the glass eagerly, taking a long sip and letting the sharp warm flavor of the cabernet wash through you. Seonghwa takes the smallest sip, preferring to keep a clear head for any of your interactions, but keeping you comfortable and pretending to drink with you.

              “Are there any alterations to what we discussed?” He asks, “Anything you want to take back off the table?”

              You shake your head immediately, “No,” your mind flicks back to your week long text message exchange discussing the logistics of this weekend. Which of his fantasies you were going to newly engage with, which of yours. A detailed discussion of positions, props, and a confirmation of your safe words and the rules.

              “Good,” he smiles, “that’s good,”

              You take another sip of wine, “Seonghwa,”

              “Yes?”

              “Are you sure you don’t mind me staying the night?” It’s something you had never done before. Typically, the evenings would end, he would spend at least an hour making sure you were comfortable and decompressed from the scene, and then he would clean you up and put you in a paid for taxi. This would be the first time you’re staying.

              “It’s fairly essential to our plans for tomorrow,” he laughs.

              “I know,” you brush his comment off, “but I know you value your space. I just wanted to ask you before we started if you’re sure about it, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable either.”

              He moves to your side, taking your free hand in his and giving you a little squeeze, “I appreciate that, love, but I’m not uncomfortable. I’m going to enjoy having you here all night,”

              “Oh,” you can’t help the blush that creeps up again, the effect this man has on you with just a sharp look of his eyes or the touch of his skin.

              “It’s better to keep things contained to the scene,” he says, and his voice shifts a little lower into a familiar tone, “but tomorrow is part of that, and I think after months of you being a such a good girl for me, I’d be more than pleased to give you what you want too.”

              You swallow tightly, crossing your legs in the seat which does not go unnoticed by him, “Thank you,”

              He nods, slow, reaching forward and brushing his delicate fingers along the side of your jaw, your cheek, running the pad of his thumb across the plush skin of your closed lips. You sigh, pleasantly and he leans over you to capture your lips in a gentle kiss.

              When he pulls back and gives you a few feet of space, you reach for your wine again and watch as he politely takes another minute sip of his.

              “When you’re ready,” he lets you know, “we’ll start with something familiar.”

              His words from a moment ago have you tense, ready to see where the night goes. Your brain involuntarily flicks through the catalogue of things you’ve agreed on for the weekend and you swallow tightly before nodding, “I am,”

              He gives you a final smile, reaching for your now empty wine glass. He pours his out before rinsing out both glasses and leaving them to the side. You know he’ll come down later and scrub them clean, but for now he seems anxious to get started and to not ruin the cuffs of his suit.

              “Darling,” he says, his voice dropped into the register he favors for his harder scenes. He dries off his hands on a hand towel and turns fully towards you, “have you broken any rules this week?”

              Your stomach drops, an immediate hot flush running through you. You know exactly where he plans to start things now, and you’re suddenly vibrating with anticipation. He makes it easy to lose yourself in these scenarios, and you move out of your chair to stand at the island across from him and meet his eyes, “I have, sir.”

              The corner of his lip quirks into a small smile. He sets the hand towel aside neatly and rounds the island, stepping close into your space so that your back is pressed against the lip of the counter. “How many rules?”

              “Just one, sir.” It was the important one though, and you know when he hears which one you’ll be in for it.

              He reaches out a hand, pressing flush against your lower stomach and pressing down, “Which rule?”

              “Self-pleasure, sir.” His hand against the fabric of your tight skirt has you hot already, the feeling possessive, claiming.

              He shakes his head, disappointed, “How many times?”

              “Just once,”

              “What day?” He questions.

              “Thursday,”

              He clicks his tongue, irritated, “You couldn’t make it one more day? Were you that desperate?”

              You nod, your hands gripping the countertop behind you.

              “Tell me what you’ve earned, love.” He shifts his hand to cup your hip.

              “Ten, sir.” You respond instantly, this dance a familiar one.

              “Fifteen,” he shakes his head and when he sees your eyes widen, he smiles, “I’m in a giving mood.”

              “Yes, sir.”

              He steps away from you, taking you by the wrist and heading towards the stairs. You trail behind him, and he never once looks back to you, simply holds you tight and expecting you to keep pace with him. When you cross the threshold of his familiar bedroom, you blanch. He had prepared.

              The bed, which is normally made up and fresh, looking like a hotel, is stripped bare, only the fitted sheet remaining. The rest of the blankets and bedding are folded neatly and stacked in a chair to the side, so you know he intends to make the bed before the night is over. Laid across his side are his plans for the evening, neatly presented and ready for you. Your eyes run across each of them and your body tenses at the unexpected.

              Seonghwa doesn’t pause though, he simply takes his seat at the tufted bench at the foot of the bed and looks up at you. He opens his legs wider and taps his knee. This is a favorite of both of yours, something you know well, and you step forwards with every intention of dropping yourself over his knee.

              “Wait,” he stops you suddenly and you freeze. He glances over you and reaches out, sliding his fingers under the hem of your skirt and dragging your tight powder blue pencil skirt up and over your hips. It rests up and over them like a cumbersome belt, but it leaves you exposed to him in just the way he likes. He taps his knee again, and you move over him.

              You position yourself with your lower stomach and hips across his thigh, resting your chest on the plush mattress facing the head of the bed.

              His hand drops, resting warmly on the smooth skin of your ass, palming you firmly and watching your skin redden under his touch. “Count,” he says simply, and before you can manage to say anything, his hand lifts and descends, delivering a harsh slap to your backside.

              You jolt, the first hit always a surprise and you stutter out, “One,”

              His fingers massage your skin again before he cracks his palm against you again.

              “Two,”

              By the fifth spank you can feel yourself growing slick and needy. He rests his other hand on the small of your back, stroking you softly, before delivering another blow.

              “Six!” The sting rings through your tender skin, goosebumps erupting across you and you’re sure that both of your ass cheeks are red and starting to look a little swollen.

              “That’s a good girl,” he hums, “always so attentive.”

              Another sharp spank, “Seven,” and another, “eight, eight!”

              His hand coasts down the backs of your thighs, squeezing you here too and feeling the way you jerk under his ministrations. After two more you’re panting, used to this being your stopping point, or at least a pause.

              “Can you take a little more for me?” He murmurs low.

              “Yes, sir,” you answer immediately, coming up on your forearms and bracing yourself.

              “So eager,” he hums, and you can hear the smile in his voice. He hooks a finger under the back of your thong and pulls it up, maneuvering the fabric to the side of your wet slit, but he doesn’t touch you yet.

              You bite back a plea for him to touch you, knowing it would only make him tease you longer. You dip your head down into the mattress and wait, trembling. He delivers a harsh slap, but instead of massaging the area of his hit, he sinks a finger deep into your wet heat.

              You choke out a moan into the bedding, your fingers tightening, finding nothing to really grip onto. He pumps his finger, “Did you forget your words?”

              “Eleven!” you cry, straining your hips back to meet the thrusts of his finger even though you know you shouldn’t.

              He locks an arm down across your lower back to steady you, removing his finger and delivering two harsh, punishing spanks that elicit a startled yelp, “Settle down,” he directs.

              “I’m sorry, sir,” you manage, “twelve, thirteen.”

              He gently squeezes you, a little praise in this moment of tenderness before he dips two fingers inside you. Holding you locked against his knee he works his fingers inside you, pressing against the front wall of your channel and fractionally picking up the pace. You groan into the mattress and your fingers flex tighter, but you don’t dare move your hips.

              “Two more,” he soothes you, “you can take two more.”

              His fingers slide out, his hand comes down, harder than before and springing tears to your eyes.

              “Four-fourteen,” you pant.

              “And this?” He strikes you again and you shake against him.

              “Fifteen, sir,”

              “Very good,” his voice softens, and his hand massages your backside gently, sweeping his hand over your reddened skin softly and soothingly. “Come here,” he hooks his hands under you and starts to help you stand up off his knee.

              Standing again, your legs tremble, your footing unsure, and he keeps a hand locked on your bare hip. Cool air crosses over your raw skin and you let out a shaky breath.

              “You did very well,” he murmurs, reaching around you to locate the zipper of your skirt and open it up fully so he can shift the skirt down and off you now. When the rough fabric passes over your sensitive skin you let out a soft whimper, and he pauses, looking up to your eyes. He reaches up and cups your face softly, silently checking in, and you give him a small nod that he can continue, you’re just fine.

              He’s a little more careful removing your skirt, but he finishes sliding it over your legs and helps you step out of it with a hand securing your forearm as he maneuvers you. He draws your hand up his arm to rest on his shoulder, pressing your hand a little so you respond to grip him more firmly to steady yourself. His fingers hook under the edges of your underwear, and he drags them down, lifting the fabric cleanly away from the raw skin of your backside to not irritate you again.

              “Now,” he says, “be a good pet and get on your knees.”

              You kneel immediately, using your hand on his shoulder to stay steady, but once on your knees with your feet neatly tucked under you, you move your hands to your lap and wait for his instructions. He looks you over for a moment before he repositions himself, sitting now to face you directly and planting a foot on either side of you. You know better than to assume what he wants, so you wait.

              Seonghwa reaches out and touches the looped tie at the front of your sheer white blouse, he runs the fabric through his fingers and gives you a soft smile, “Should I unwrap my present?”

              Your muscles clench around nothing at his words, “Please,”

              “Please what?” his hand stills.

              “Please, sir,” you correct yourself.

              He tugs downwards and the tie comes free under his hands, parting to reveal the smooth skin of your throat and collarbones. He sighs, nodding to himself. “Hands, please,” he asks and you raise both to him. With nimble fingers he quickly unbuttons the three covered buttons on each wrist and lifts the shirt over your head carefully to toss it aside by your skirt. You’re left in nothing but a powder blue bra, intentionally selected to match the skirt and he hums pleasantly, “Pretty baby,”

              You shiver at his words, staring up at him expectantly.

              He reaches back and grabs something from the bed before turning to you. In his hands he holds a black blindfold. It looks more like a sleep mask, made to intentionally cover your eyes and obscure your vision from top to bottom to periphery. “Alright,” he says, “put your hands away.”

              You tuck your hands under your thighs and sit back down, in this position your fingers are sandwiched between your calves and your thighs, intentionally keeping them unavailable and secured. Seonghwa reaches around you, threading your ponytail through the blindfold before settling it over you, leaving it for now on your forehead so he can continue looking into your eyes. “Tell me your colors, darling. Red,” he prompts you.

              “Stop,” you reply.

              “Yellow?”

              “Slow down.”

              “Green?”

              “Go, everything’s good,” you nod.

              “And if you need me to stop immediately?” He cups your jaw.

              “Treasure,” you reply with your agreed upon but never used safe word.

              “And if your mouth is full?”

              A shiver runs over you, “Tap your thigh,”

              “Very good,” he nods, “Are you ready?”

              “Yes, sir.”

              It’s all he needs, and the last thing you see is his sharp sparkling eyes, and a smile on his lips, before your world goes completely dark. It’s jarring, being positioned like this and unable to move or anticipate his next steps, but when you hear his belt unhooking, you’re ready.

              He shifts forwards, his trousers open now and his cock standing stiff and aching. He places a hand on your face and guides you downwards, prompting you when to open your mouth. His warm soft length slides over your bottom lip, and you eagerly catch it with your tongue to slide him as far back in your mouth as you can. This position on your knees was how you had throat trained, learning to take him inch by inch and suppress your gag reflex, and now he bumps the back of your throat with ease.

              With a soft tug against your ponytail, he tells you silently to begin. With slow and deliberate motion, you drag your head back and forth to take him in your mouth. Your tongue is pressed along the bottom of his shaft as you do, applying pressure where you know he wants it and hollowing out your cheeks, sucking him softly. At his first soft groan, you drop your head down and accept him fully, your nose pressed against his pubic bone.

              Breathing like this is difficult, and you have to keep yourself even and regulated through your nose. His cock twitches in your mouth and you sputter, moaning softly against him.

              He’s not the largest partner you’ve ever had, but he’s certainly the best lover you’ve had and the only one you’ve been able to pace yourself with and take from tip to hilt inside your mouth. You pull up and back again, sinking him in deep and when you go to move again, his hand finds the back of your head and holds you there.

              You make a soft noise of surprise around him, and he holds you tighter. Instinct tells your body to push away, pull your hands free and get loose, but you center yourself calmly and breathe slowly through your nose again.

              He strokes your hair then, thrusting up into your mouth just a little and you cough slightly, spluttering and struggling with the way he keeps hitting the soft spongy back of your throat and brushing against your epiglottis. He strokes the length of your ponytail, and then wraps your long hair around his fist, tugging you firmly to test the grip on your scalp. You moan around him, pressing your eyes shut despite the blindfold, your body starting to tremble.

              “You can do better than this,” he says, his tone dismissive. A challenge.

              With practiced motion, you take him, letting his hand in your hair guide your speed but not the intensity of your ministrations. You roll your tongue over him, tease the tip of him, use your lips to apply pressure, suck on him greedily. You speed up, ignoring the way you choke around him, ignoring the sloppy wanton sounds and focus solely on what he wants.

              A tight yank on your hair pulls you up and off his cock and you gasp in a deep gulp of air. He slaps you across the cheek and shakes you by the hair, “Not good enough,” he says, his tone sounding firm and final, and he delivers another slap to your cheek.

              You’re almost ashamed at the sudden rush of wetness between your thighs and the way your body is shaking with need, and he knows every button of yours to push to make it more intense. “Open,” he commands and you open your mouth wide, your held tilted up for him.

              It’s quick, he spits directly into your mouth and delivers another slap to your cheek before maneuvering your head downwards. A desperate whine leaves you, and the mixture of Seonghwa’s spit and your own drips out of your mouth and onto his waiting cock before you can recover. He moves to fuck your throat with abandon now, shifting to stand and pressing you tightly against him, ignoring the soft sounds of you sputtering and choking against him.

              You center yourself again, easing your throat open and relaxed, widening your jaw, your nails softly dig into the backs of your thighs, and with one hand in your hair and the other along the side of your face, he loses himself. He’s panting above you, and you know immediately that he’s close. With your eyes tightly locked shut, you focus on the pin pricks of pain where your nails dig in and the throbbing of your desperate clit. He comes suddenly, hot and salty down the back of your throat and he clutches you close to him, your jaw straining painfully and your nose pressed tightly against him.

              With a sigh he pulls you free, immediately dropping the grip he had in your hair and letting you settle. You’re gasping, a little cough in your throat, but you relax and let him continue.

              You come back to sensation when his fingers gently tip your head upwards, and a cool glass touches your bottom lip. “Here we are,” he murmurs softly, “drink this.”

              Cool water washes down your throat, and you take several deep sips before he brings the cup away and says, “That’s my very good girl,”

              In a less intense scene you might have responded, you might have begged for him to touch you, or hold you, or fuck you into the floor, but today you know you can’t. You hold your tongue, and you wait. You hear the sound of a zipper again, and belt, and realize he must be redressed now and ready to focus on you.

              “Alright,” his voice is now soft closer to your ear, “let’s get you up, hmm?”

              His hands slip under you and he lifts you with ease, moving around the edge of the bed to settle you directly in the center. He’s careful with you here, soft and easy, fingertips brushing along your jaw where he slapped you and massaging your scalp where he pulled your hair. He reaches under you to unclasp your bra and draw it down over your arms, casting it aside, and leaving you finally fully bare for him.

              “Color?” He says softly, his hand stroking across your stomach.

              “Green,” You assure him.

              His hand shifts lower, and he cups your cunt in his palm, one finger dipping between your folds and teasing your entrance. “Oh, you are ready for me,” he chuckles and you shudder, willing your body not to jerk and respond too strongly to his ministrations.

              He removes his hand, and you feel his weight shift off the bed before he says, “Stay still for me.”

              He takes one wrist and extends your arm up, and secures something around you it. You hear him move around the bed and you slowly roll your wrist to test the feeing of it out. It’s more comfortable than you thought it would be, not the stiff leather style cuffs you’ve seen in pornography or the silky fabric you see in softer core, aesthetic scenes. It feels more like layers of thick athletic fabric and you’re grateful it doesn’t pull or pinch at your skin.

              He secures the other wrist, leaving your arms up above your head and spread wide. You don’t exactly expect him to secure your legs in the way that he does. You expect a similar loop of fabric around each ankle, but instead he secures you by each thigh just above the knee, a larger and thicker loop of restraint here, holding you fully open and exposed. Nerves bubble up inside you as he checks each of the restraints again and slips a finger gently under the edge of each to ensure they aren’t too tight.

              Then things go quiet. You expect him to tease you, to be verbal like he normally is or to shift more dominant and even degrade you, but instead you’re met with quiet. It stretches on and you can’t help but turn your head to the left and right, straining to see if you can hear anything at all.

              It’s taking too long, minutes pass, and you’re not even confident at this point that he’s even still in the room with you. You don’t want to break the scene, but you’re nervous now. The absolute lack of visibility and your tight restrained position has you so vulnerable you can barely breathe. “Seonghwa?” You know you shouldn’t address him by name, but the nerves get the better of you.

              He doesn’t respond, but suddenly you feel a brush along your inner thigh and you jerk, startled at the sensation of what feels like a fine brush coasting gently up your skin. His voice murmurs, honeyed and soft, “Shh, shh, you’re safe.”

              The brush runs up each thigh, across your pubic bone, over your stomach, and repeats. The sensation has you straining, your hips making subtle jerks instinctively, aching to be touched more now that you know he hasn’t left you.

              He repeats his pattern again and again, until he shifts, the brush ever so slightly running over your exposed clit. You whine, rolling your head back and gripping the straps of your wrist restraints. He teases you like this for what feels like forever, but he eventually lifts the brush away. “You’re so wet,” he hums pleasantly, “is this all for me?”

              You swallow, your throat dry, “Yes, sir.”

              “Very good.”

              You swallow tightly again but choke out a gasp at the next touch against your inner thighs has you shaking. It takes you a few moments to work it out, with the way that he’s teasing, but you realize quickly he’s traded the brush for a feather and the new sensations have you trembling again.

              You want his hands on you, his fingers, his mouth, but you know that once you start begging he’ll make this longer and harder for you. He’s already come, and he’ll stay perfectly in control for as long as he wants to. He takes his time again with the feather, passing it over every inch of your body, focusing special attention to your pebbled nipples and trembling core.

              You know he’s done playing when he moves the feather away and you feel his weight descend on the bed between your wrenched open legs. You know he’s going to touch you, but how you can’t predict. Something firm lands directly on your clit and you arch back instinctively, but he keeps in pressed down. You rock your hips slightly, testing the feeling, but he clicks his tongue in disapproval and you stop immediately. At the sudden wave of vibration from the object pressed against you, you can’t help but cry out and jerk up against your restraints.

              Seonghwa pushes the vibrator more tightly against your clit and lays a firm hand on one of your open thighs. “Don’t you dare come.”

              The sound that leaves you is broken, keening, and you try to back your hips up and away from the vibrator, but he holds you steady and presses it more firmly against your swollen nub. “Please, please,” you manage, panting.

              “You’ll come when I tell you and not a second before.” His voice is stern, curt, and runs a shock of pleasure up your spine.

              You focus hard, gritting your teeth and laying your head back against the mattress. Your nails dig into your palms, your body trembles, and you do your best to keep things at bay. He circles the vibrator hard against you and you moan out, a breathy wet sob of desperation.

              He brings you up, placing you high on the pedestal of your orgasm, and works you there until he’s sure you can’t take another single second. With a pleased tone he commands you, “Come.”

              Your body tightens, and you let the feeling crash over you, crying out when you feel two of his fingers push up deep inside you to help push you over the edge. No doubt your words are incoherent, your body shaking uncontrollably.

              The vibrator lifts as you start to come down, but his fingers pick up speed. “Again,” he says.

              You shake your head, desperate and confused, the heady feeling of your orgasm holding you still, but he’s relentless the way he pushes inside you. His hand stays locked tight to you, sharp thrusts cresting you upwards again, “There we go,” he says as you cry, “again, again.”

              You’ve never felt anything like this, a sharp snap inside you that leaves you writhing, your wrists tugging at your restraints and your thighs attempting to snap closed but completely unable. He has you open and ready, and he has no intention of stopping. He’s talking to you, but you can’t hear him through the haze, his fingers slow, and when he’s sure you’ve come twice he slides them out and brushes his hands along your thighs soft and slow.

              When you hear the sound of his belt again and the rustle of fabric, your body locks up. You’re still shaking from his hour of slow burn pleasure, and you can barely breathe, nerves igniting at what is coming next.

              “Color?” Seonghwa confirms, one hand coming back to rest on your thigh.

              You want to keep up, you want to give him exactly what he wants, but the breath is tight in your chest, “Yellow,”

              “Alright,” he murmurs, his hands leaving you and you sigh, focused instead of recovering your breath slowly and breathing through the sudden wave of nerves.

              He settles down next to you, stretched long by your side, and rests his hand warmly on your stomach, “Deep breaths,” he murmurs.

              You follow his lead and as he softly strokes you with his thumb and gives you the time, you start to settle back into yourself. You want so badly to see him, loving the way he takes his time with you and the way he looks at you and your body, but he wanted you like this so badly that you just hope you’re giving him what he needs.

              “Color?” he checks again.

              “Green,” you nod, “I’m okay,”

              He shifts away immediately, settling back between your open legs. “Are you?” He asks again, but his voice has taken back on a hardened edge.

              “Yes, sir,”

              “Then I have more work to do,” he says, and his hand connects with your clit, rubbing quick circles into your oversensitive nub.

              Tears spring to your eyes instantly, and your muscles clench around nothing, your hips rocking up and against his hand, body panting and desperate in an instant. Heat rushes over you and you spasm, pulling again against the taut restraints. As you come up again, he pulls back suddenly and you whine, craning your head up even though you know you won’t be able to see him. His body descends over you, and you feel now that he’s naked and hard against you. His stiff cock connects with your clit and he rolls his hips over you to drag it back and forth, your body shuddering in response.

              “Oh God,” you shake your head, “Please, please,”

              His hand connects with your jaw, holding you firmly, “Please, who?”

              “Sir!” You recover yourself, “Please sir, please I can’t,”

              “You can’t?” He mocks, dropping his hips lower.

              You’re torn in two, desperate for him inside you and overstimulated enough that you can barely think of him touching you again. His breath fans across your cheek, his teeth nip at your ear and when his voice comes low and harsh, “Is my sweet girl too tired?”

              The sound that leaves you is nothing but a stuttering mess and your hips jerk up desperately, pressing the head of his cock against your fluttering hole. He makes a pleased sound in your ear and sinks home, locking your hips tight together and groaning against you now that he’s finally inside you. Your legs try to force themselves shut again, but it does nothing and he responds with a pointed and firm thrust.

              “What a mess,” he says, thrusting into you faster, “all laid out for me like this.”

              You can’t form thoughts, nothing coherent anyways, the sensation of him dragging perfectly inside you and his pubic bone connecting with your clit on every downwards strike making you arch against him. You’re nothing but a moaning mess, holding onto the wrist restraints in your hands for dear life, and letting him take his fill.

              “Did I fuck you dumb, sweet girl?” His hand sinks into your hair and he pulls down again, baring your throat and twisting your position tighter.

              Tense sore pleasure knots inside you, tears hot in your eyes, and nothing in the world has ever felt quite like this. His pace above you starts to quicken and you know he can’t be far, but you haven’t found the words to answer him.

              He catches one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger and pinches, just hard enough to shock your brain and have you twisting away from him despite the weight of his body over yours. “I asked you a question,” he growls in your ear, his thrusts turning more forceful.

              There’s no chance you’ll be able to answer, and you shake your head, “I can’t,”

              He doesn’t respond, just grips your hair and your side tightly in his hands and fucks you faster, his shaky soft groans telling you he’s close. “Where do you want it?” He asks suddenly, his hand against your face again.

              “Wh-what?” He’s never asked you before, only told you.

              “Where should I come? Tell me,”

              You clench around him, the knot tightening and blood rushing to your head, the only thing that connects in your brain is this final need, “Inside, inside, please, please,”

              “You didn’t say sir,” He says, firm, and you tumble into another orgasm, the strike of pleasure catching you by surprise. He pulls out of you suddenly and you’re spasming around nothing, and you cry at the sudden change of sensation. “Fuck,” he pants above you and he grips your thigh tightly in his hand before releasing hot across your belly.

              In the aftershocks, you’re shaking more than you ever have before, your fingertips slightly numb from their raised position and your legs surely unusable. He’s quiet, and you’re not sure if it’s really over until you feel the damp warm towel against your skin as he cleans you up.

              He releases the tie on one of your thighs, then the other, and your legs fall slack against the bed, a deep ache in your hips as you let them straighten out. He releases one wrist, then the other, and your hands drop down above your head. Softly, he slips the blindfold off and comes to sit by your side, his thumbs wiping away the stray tears. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and cups your cheek. When your eyes finally flutter open he smiles, “There you are, darling.”

              “Hi,” you manage, weakly.

              “You did so beautifully,” he caresses your cheek.

              “It was,” you shift your arms and wince, the pins and needles springing up them instantly at the slight shift. His eyes flick upwards to assess and he deftly takes one arm in his hands, massaging soft circles into your flesh to wake it back up and give you some sensation. As he takes the other arm you finish your thought, “was it what you wanted?”

              He nods, “it was better than I could have ever imagined,”

              His warm words fill you with comfort and you stretch your tired limbs, shifting slightly to rest one hand on his bare thigh and look up at him, “Yeah?”

              “You’re perfect,” he leans over you, pressing a warm kiss against your lips, “I wish you could have seen yourself, you looked…”

              You blush and he brushes his hands across you, warmly up your back, massaging your thighs, planting kisses along your skin as he does. “How are you feeling?” He asks.

              In truth, you’re sore, stiff, and exhausted, but you also feel boneless, sated, and perfectly dazed. “Good,” you settle on.

              He smiles again, “Stay here for a minute, I’ll be right back.”

              You nod, and watch him go. He pulls a pair of boxers on disappears into the bathroom. You hear the sound of the bathtub filling, and the sound of the shower, and you rest in the center of the bed while he’s gone. You close your eyes, content to rest and stay exactly as you are, but he returns.

              When he does, he eases you up into his arms and you open your eyes. He’s freshly showered, his hair wet and pushed back, and he smells clean, his skin soft against yours. He carries you cradled against his chest into the large bathroom and eases you down into the warm water of the tub.

              You hiss at the contact of the water against your backside, still sore from earlier, the heat from the water only making it sting, but you know once you’re submerged it will fade. He settles you against one side of the large tub and comes to rest behind you, outside the water, but with his arms looping around you and holding you beneath the warmth.

              “Feel better?” He murmurs against your hair.

              “Perfect,” you reply, letting your eyes slip closed.

              He kisses your temple and rests here with you for a few moments before slowly unwinding his arms, “Take your time, and when you’re ready we’ll get you to bed.”

              He’s perfect like this, you think. Kind and gentle, attuned to your needs like the best of lovers should be. He leaves you to your space, knowing that you need time to come out of the headspace of the scene and back to yourself. Easing yourself back, you take stock of how your body feels and slowly wash up. You ease yourself out of the bath once you’re ready, wrapping a fluffy white towel around yourself. You need to take it slow, you realize immediately, your hips are sore and your legs are still a bit shaky, but you can manage.

              When you cross the threshold of the bedroom out of the master bathroom suite, Seonghwa jumps up from his position reclining on the now made bed. “You should have called me,” he crosses the room for you.

              “I’m okay,” you squeeze his hand, “I promise, just a little tired.”

              He still doesn’t listen, and moves with you to your side of the bed, pulling back the covers and then tucking you in once you’re laying down. “There’s water here,” he hands you a glass, “are you hungry at all?”

              You shake your head, “No, I’m okay,” You take a deep gulp of water and sigh, sleep pulling at you already.

              “Alright,” he seems anxious all of a sudden, fussy, and he clicks the lights off except for the opposite bed side table before slipping into bed beside you.

              “You’re staying here?” The words leave you before you can stop yourself, surprised. Despite how often you’ve slept together, you’ve never actually spent the night together.

              “Would you be comfortable with that?” He asks.

              “Of course,” you roll towards him, “you just caught me off guard, but I’d love it if you’d stay.”

              He visibly relaxes, sinking back into the pillows and resting a hand on yours, “If you’re here, I’d like to keep you close.”       

              After the intensity of the night, his words fill you with warmth and you shift closer, “Then come here,” you tug on his arm slightly.

              He slides over, wrapping around you, cupping you agains this chest. He runs his fingers through your damp hair and down your back, a repeated comforting pattern, “Can I get you anything else?”

              You shake your head against him, “Just hold me awhile,”

              “I’m not going anywhere,” his voice, low and soft eases you.

              It doesn’t take long for your body to melt into the covers, feeling more spent than you’ve ever felt before, Seonghwa’s steady arms around you and solid heartbeat against your cheek.

              When you wake it happens slowly, and it takes you a while for your mind to catch up and understand the sensations you’re feeling. When your brain does connect, it’s to the realization that Seonghwa’s fingers are inside you, pumping slowly and massaging your clit softly to spark your wet arousal.

              Pleasure ripples up your spine and you softly moan, stretching your hips down slightly and curling into the pillow under your cheek. You don’t open your eyes quite yet, intoxicated by the sensation of him touching you.

              His fingers slide out, and he softly raises one of your legs, opening you up and gently letting you stretch onto your back. His hands drift across your skin gently, running slowly from your breasts down your stomach, across your thighs and dipping back to slowly tease you, ease you open and pliant with practiced circles with the pads of his fingers against your nub.

              You keep your eyes closed despite the soft pants that leave you, the needy shifts of your hips. You wanted him to take you like this, you always had.

              You feel as he descends over you, gently opening your legs wider, lifting one of your legs up to your side to fold you into a press position. His cock sinks into you smoothly, your body slick and ready for him, but the sudden sensation of being filled has you moaning in earnest, and your eyes snap open. “Hwa,” you groan, but he claps a hand over your mouth and holds your face to the pillow below you.

              You let out a startled squeak, but he keeps his hand locked in place over your mouth as he starts to thrust into you. He shushes you, “Go back to sleep baby,”

              Pleasure knots deep in your belly at his words, but you play along, shaking your head against his palm and blinking up at him.

              “Sleep,” he directs softly again, his voice almost a whisper in the dark room, “I just need you for a minute,”

              Your eyes flutter shut and you let out a muffled moan against his palm. He keeps up his pace, and you feel your body clenching around him already. When you groan, your eyes flying open again, he presses his hand harder against your lips.

              “Shh,” he hushes you, “just rest and let me fill you up, sweet girl.”

              Your hands fist themselves in the sheets below you and you moan again. He drops down a little lower, pressing kisses to your temple as he fucks you, and he keeps murmuring against your skin, “I’ll give you what you need,”

              The feeling of him is warm and hard, rhythmically stroking you in the perfect spot at a deliciously slow and steady pace. He whispers more, promises in the hollow of your ear, but you crash over the edge into your orgasm when he says, “I’ll fill you up every night sweet girl, every night until it sticks.”

              You grip onto him suddenly, holding him tight to you as your body spasms and jerks against him, pleasure washing over you and sending sparks of heat down your limbs. He follows you quickly, thrusting into your fluttering muscles and spilling himself deep inside you, locking your hips together when he starts to come and just rocking his hips tightly against yours.

              “That’s a good girl,” his hand slips away from your mouth, and he peppers kisses across your face.

              You feel utterly boneless and pliant, and you groan when he pulls out of you and shifts to spoon you again, holding your slick body against his. He dips his fingers between your legs though, and presses inside you with two fingers, kissing your shoulder. With his opposite hand he wraps around you starts to gently massage your clit again, heat spreading fast across you.

              “There we go,” he nuzzles you softly, “we’ll keep this right where it belongs,”

              Your head drops back against him, and you let him work you quickly up over into another soft and shuddering orgasm, your body weightless now against him. He keeps his fingers inside you for just a few moments longer, and then slips out of you, kissing your shoulder repeatedly and stroking you gently. He murmurs soft to you, “How’s my girl?”

              “So good,” you sigh, cuddling back against him.

              “Is that what you wanted, love?” He asks, massaging your hip gently.

              You nod, sated and ready again for more sleep.

              “Good,” he holds you close, “I don’t know about you, but I think we could try that again.”

              “Mm,” you nod and sigh, “anytime.”

              He chuckles, “And last night?”

              “Definitely,” you assure him, squeezing one of his forearms that wraps around you, “I think I liked it,”

              “Did you?” He pulls the covers up over you higher.

              “A lot,” you admit, and he all but purrs in satisfaction behind you. “Did you like this?”

              “Very much,” he sweeps a hand low over your belly and spreads his fingers wide to cup you gently, “possibly too much.”

              Seonghwa sighs behind you, and you can feel him relaxing against your back, spent from the evening before and this early morning, and you softly hiss the available patch of skin on the arm wrapped around your shoulders, “Let’s sleep then,”

              “Mm,” he agrees, then says, “can I wake you up again?”

              “Anytime,” you smile, “you can have me anytime.”

              “Then sleep,” his deep warm voice murmurs, “you’ll need your rest for next time.”

[hutaoscoffinn]

Hi! Do you have any relationship hcs for Rika? :) I love that woman sm AAAAA

BLESSED YES I FUCKIN DO. I HAVE SO MANY HEADCANONS FOR MISS RIKA ITS INSANE AHHHHH omgomgomg okay take food. I give nourishment in form of Rika

Warnings: SFW, fluffy fluffy fluffy, so much floof, Rika is a teasing cunt what can I say, Rika is also incredibly hot, gn! Reader. Arguments so slight angst. Lets get it boissss. This was also not beta read so aha if theres errors WHOOPSIES

Character: Rika of the Elite 4

Requests: OPEN

You and Rika most likely met because of your gym circuit that you completed

Along with Nemona and her many random challenges of battle of course

This lead you two to constantly run into each other as Rika was quite curious about the person who was completing the gym challenges with ease and who caught even Geeta’s eye

Safe to say Rika was intrigued by you

The more you two met via Rika “just so happening to be in the area of your gym challenges and deciding to watch

That shit was on purpose do not believe her when she says its a coincidence

The more she slowly began to fall for you

By the time you finally arrived at the Elite 4 to take her on, she had admitted to herself that she had feelings for you

You kicking her ass in battle was the icing on the cake and lead to your relationship with the ground type user

As far as how Rika confessed, well lets just say her staring wide eyed at you, flushed red after you beat Geeta has Hassel shoving her forward to speak up

Thanks old man she needed a good ol push in the right direction

Safe to say Rika isnt always the confident gay she claims she is

She does indeed get flustered from time to time by you and while those times are few and far between they still happen

Usually, Rika is exactly the confident gay she says she is

She lives to tease you, loving your reactions to her touches and teasing words as she pushes every button to get you all flustered

Her favorite way to get you flustered is to sneak up behind you, wrapping her arms around your body and tugging you up against her

She relishes the way your face heats up and she will press a kiss to your forehead with a smirk

“You feelin’ okay baby? You feel really warm.”

Yeah thats your fault YOU LITTLE SHIT—

Ahem, moving on

As far as PDA goes, Rika usually keeps things on the down low

She has to keep up her professional appearances as a member of the pokemon league and the Elite 4

So typically when you two are in public she prefers to just hold your hand, have you hold her arm, or she will have an arm loosely wrapped around your shoulder or waist

Subtle things that aren’t too obviously affectionate but still get off a clear message: you are hers

So yeah surprise surprise Rika is a tad bit possessive

You are easily the most precious thing she has and she’s going to protect you and do what she can to keep you by her side

All within your consent and boundaries of course

If there are ever moments where you feel like Rika is being a touch too much, ask her to tone it down and she will

She loves you deeply and would never want to make you uncomfortable or push a boundary you set

Rika is a certified gentleman™

She always opens doors for you, opens car doors and buckles you in, pulls out your chair, offers you her arm, holds the umbrella over your head, offers you her coat when you are cold, ect

One thing Rika will never be shy about is showing you how much she loves and cares for you

She’s always using acts of service and small gifts to spoil you when she can

Like buying you your favorite drink from a cafe, getting you a sandwich exactly how you like it made, giving you flowers randomly throughout the week and months

She knows your bra size if you wear bras, she knows your clothing sizes, she knows your ring size, what length you like necklaces or bracelets to be, she knows what colors look best on you, what makeup brands you use if you wear makeup

Rika knows your allergies if you have any, what medications you take if you take any medication

She knows your favorite restaurant, favorite cafe, favorite store, what your favorite flowers are, your hobbies

Rika is incredibly observant with anything that relates to you because she loves you so deeply and wants to show you how much she cares

This level of care even bleeds into your social life as she remembers what the birthdays of your friends are so she can help you shop for gifts for them

She knows your pokemon’s favorite treats and sandwiches so she can help you care for them

Rika doesn’t date for fun, she dates to find her lifelong partner and she shows that

Rika is actively involved in any aspect of your life that you are comfortable with her being in and she will wholeheartedly support you through anything

Now this does not mean you are safe from her scoldings because she will worry about you and scold you if you do something dangerous

Such as dive head first into the crater of Paldea with your Miraidon or Koraidon because we have all done it I know we have and if you havent, you’re missing out

So safe to say, like all relationships, arguments happen

But Rika is not one to let said arguments simmer for a while

If there is something wrong in your relationship or something she feels that needs to be addressed, she tells you

Rika heavily values communication and will want you to do the same for her and if you do have so concerns she will listen intently, looking into your eyes as you speak and waiting for you to finish before she responds

So big arguments dont happen often between you both

But when they do, Rika doesn’t like to let it sit unaddressed for more than a day

She will give you any space you need but before the day ends, she will want to talk to you about it

She hates going to bed with you angry at her, and if you are still mad at her by bedtime she will offer to sleep on the couch depending on how angry you are with her

Usually though, she prefers to hold you close and cuddle you in bed even if you two were arguing

She values your time together and doesn’t want to lose out on it because of an argument and whatever discussion you two need to have will happen in the morning

Rika will not even leave for work at the league without talking to you, and if she has to, she will send you constant texts and will call you to remind you how much she loves you

Because she does, she loves you more than anything in the world

You are her angel, her baby, and she will always cherish you

Reblogs are always appreciated <3