#or hating on those (very nice) mutuals i once had

[mxxnkirby]

getting older is weird for a lot of reasons but i dont think people talk enough about that moment when you subconciously raise the age for people you interact with and also gain a better understanding of age. i don't talk people who were at my age when i started using tumblr, and its to think that i couldve been mutuals with these people like four years ago

like, i've been on tumblr through multiple accounts since i was about 13 and had mutuals who were up to 20 ish years old at the time but i didn't think anything weird of it because we never interacted and so it was "safe" whereas now I'm 17 and i recently unfollowed an 3///d account i just realised was 13.

Likes and reblogs and talking in tags are still indirect interactions and i felt uncomfortable with someone that young being on this side of the internet. the youngest i'll let pass now is 14 since at least that's highschool age but its definitely getting bumped up again when i graduate because 1) as we get older we get different interests and thought processes and opinions so a 13yo is not relevant to things i want to talk about (some of my younger mutuals make me nostalgic sometimes) and 2) because kids have very different brains at each year of their life and the maturity difference even between 14 and 15 is CRAZY

i didnt realise all that at the time but those 20ish year old mutuals i had did. they knew my brain was very immature and 13-core but they still subtley interacted with me when there was no reason for them too and i do not want to make that future kid uncomfortable

[simpjaes]

heeseung taking out all his anger during sex drabble pls ❤️

MDNI.

this was originally written for jeno on my other blog but it fits so well [i rewrote it/reworded a lot of things. it's much better now lol] wc: 2.3k

tags: Heeseung hate fucks reader when he has a bad day, unprepped penetration, reader basically loses her ability to feel anything other than his cock lmao (cock drunk)

It doesn't always hurt when Heeseung has his hands on you. Really, most of the time it’s blissful. There were those nights though, when he would be rough, careless, and borderline worrisome with you. Oftentimes humiliating you in the way you can barely even mutter his name, weak and quivering under him. 

It doesn’t happen happen, but when it does, you know how much you always end up…kind of loving it.

Really, even if in the moment you’re in pain, sometimes even scared, you had to tell him after the fact to keep doing it. That it’s okay. That you fucking love it. 

Naturally, tonight is another one of those nights. 

Heeseung, first, had you against the counter with his strong arms pressing you back until your head hit the cabinets. You were, essentially, pinned there between his frustrated eyes and the counter top with him slotting himself between your legs. Not a single word is said to you, not a single explanation, and arguably, you know better than to ask. 

You already know. He’s had a bad day.

So, you just let him. Feeling his lips go from a grimace to biting and nipping against your skin. You can only imagine how bad his day went for him to be so silent, still, you let him do as he pleases because you don’t exactly want to make it worse for him. If anything, you’re fine with being an outlet. You get plenty out of this too, after all.

And there is a part of him that knows he’s doing this with you rather than at you, based on your previous pleads to be his outlet. He’s forever in love with the fact that you let him be this rough, with his bruising grip and harsh teeth. There’s nothing more in this world he could need to unwind aside from you and you alone. Solely because you let him.

When he drags you to the bedroom without a word, you simply let him. Internally bubbling with all sort of emotions. Fear, excitement, concern, arousal. He appears to be more angry tonight though, solely because his fingers gripping your wrist hurts much more than usual. You can feel your skin under them, pulling and stretching under his grip as he takes you to where he wants you. 

And yet again, like on many nights like these, he doesn’t offer a single bit of foreplay. He does little more than getting his cock out with that same frustrated face, flicking his head down as if he has an expectation of you. That, he does. You know it very well, and you do as you’re directed. Rolling your pajamas down your leg and easily spreading your legs and pussy for him. 

Unprepped, still mostly dry. You know it’s going to hurt, and he knows it’s going to hurt too. The understanding is mutual but the act is much needed on more ends than just Heeseung’s. 

The drag of his immediate, forced, plunge is uncomfortable for both of you, but something about the feeling of getting you wet while he’s inside of you is something that grounds Heeseung beyond belief. The feeling pulls him out of his red thoughts and turns them a shade darker. 

It’s always you who can distract him. 

And, of course, he only goes faster and harder at that point, chasing the moment for when you’ll slick up for him nice and wet. Gripping onto your body in such a harsh way that all you can do for him is whimper and cry. Your eyes always force the tears, especially when he hasn’t kissed you yet. But even if he had kissed you, you’d be unable to kiss him back at this point. Not until the discomfort subsides anyway.

Thankfully, and like always, it doesn’t take long for your body to want it. What was once the sound of dry and slapping skin turns to that of wet, squelching sounds as you drip out and around him. The drag hurts no more, and by this point you need him to go harder, faster, fucking deeper. After all, if he’s going to hate-fuck you when you’re not even the point of his anger, if he’s not even going to kiss you, he better find a way to make it hurt more. 

Heeseung does come back to himself when he feels the slide though, loving that he can come home from his awful day and have you present yourself in such a way for him. He loves you more than anything, for so many fucking reasons that don’t include that, but still. This is what you do for him, and it brings his softness back tenfold as he reaches out for your face, eyes softening for you in concern. 

Fuck, he swears he learns something new about you every day too. After all the years the two of you have been together, he’s shocked when you turn your face away from him. He’s a bit defeated at the act, partially wondering if he’s really pushed it too far in terms of using you. It’s not often he doesn’t at least give you some praise as he does this, but really, he was so, so upset. His brain just….he needed this before saying anything. 

And so, at that motion of you turning your face away from him and his softer hands, he only slams his hips harder. He tips himself back a bit now, using one hand to tug at your clit as if it’s a form of retaliation from your rejection.

It would be retaliation anyway, but Heeseung knows well enough how much you love to hurt. You love when he tugs and pinches against your pretty, swollen clit. The sharp pains always make you cry in a way that fucks your brain up. As if you don’t know whether to plead for him to stop or to ask for more. 

Still, he’s frustrated that you won’t let him love on you now that he’s grounded himself a bit. His whole fucking day has been a disaster, and now you’re pulling away? Not making eye contact? Not letting him kiss you?

“Baby, look at me.” He says, now nearly demanding that you do as he says. 

And, of course, you do. 

“You want it to hurt more?” He continues when you still shift your eyes away from him, but he’s a bit amused in the way you nod to him. So out of it for him that he feels almost silly for being upset at you in the first place. 

“Yeah?” He nods with a half chuckle, slowing his hips but now driving in with intent and harsh plunges. “Just like that?” 

You yelp as you urge him with a nod, loving the sear and feeling of your boyfriend tearing you open. And while you know he’s being rough, he’s not quite giving you his all now that he’s softened up.

You want him to give it his ass by this point now, if the sound of your pussy is anything to go by. You want him to fucking hurt you, to the point you can’t moan, to the point you can’t breathe. 

“More,” You manage to get out for him in another yelped whimper. “You’re being soft.”

“Yeah?” He asks for confirmation with his hand reaching for you cheek again, burying his leaking cock in so deep, so painfully deep. “Look at me.”

You do, showing him your blown out pupils and mess of hair on top of you head. You nod frantically, wanting him to push further than he ever has. Wondering if he’ll ever surpass his own limit for you. 

It goes like this for a while longer than usual. More pain, more pleasure, and your heart rate higher than you thought possible. 

He’s using you so well and you couldn’t be more proud to be this for him. An outlet, his girlfriend, his sex doll. And fuck, he bites, he bruises, he drags his hips so painfully into you that you feel like you genuinely could be split in half at any moment if he truly wanted to. 

So full, you can feel it so deeply inside of you that all you can do is cry.

You lose yourself to that feeling, basking in the sensation of your walls clenching every inch of him and moaning out with each second that passes. To the point your throat is sore and your eyes are swollen from the tears. 

He pulls against your hair now, holding his hips in place and burying himself just as deep as before inside of you. Instantly, you see tunnel vision now. Like you could burst, both physically and emotionally, all for him. 

Him, him, him. 

And he only holds himself like that to the point that you can feel your cervix bruise. He only pushes harder now, trying to inch in more of his cock despite having no more to give. He lifts your leg over his shoulder just to get a different angle at the failure, only to find a way to make you feel him deeper than you thought was possible. 

God, it hurts so good and he loves it. Your pained face paired with the image of your pussy taking the entirety of him. You’re everything to him. 

And now? His grunts are that of focus rather than pleasure. He wants to ruin you, he is trying to ruin you to the fucking core just to see if you’ll unravel in a new sort of way. 

It’s the fact that he’s talking to you through it too. You can’t make out a single word though, tunnel vision is tunnel hearing, and all you can focus on is the feeling of his cock bruising the deepest part of you. Being torn apart by the man you love is…something you’ll never forget. 

And when you do manage to catch a smirk on his face before his hips start sliding back and forth again, you realize he loves this as much as you do. Of course he does, who wouldn’t love a girl willing to let her man surpass his own limits? 

Out of respect, no less. 

“Are you with me?” His voice echoes through your eyes, and while he’s fully aware that you’re absolutely fucking gone with the way he’s fucking you right now, he takes your distant nod as confirmation. 

Despite how far aware he seems in your head, you know that every sensation your body is feeling right now is because of him. You can’t help the quivering. The uncontrollable shaking.

It feels so good, to the point you are nearly numb to everything else around you. The swollen feeling of your body being abused is too, too fucking good. You can’t even comprehend that he’s kissing against your slack mouth, but you do your best to kiss him back. 

Goddamn does he love the way you drool all over yourself and him. Good. Fucking good girl. 

“Try again,” He chuckles against your tongue, waiting, just to see if you can manage to kiss him properly. Though he suspects you’re completely lost in your head right now. 

After all, he’s giving you exactly what you asked for. 

And all you can do in return is blink up at him with a dazed smile. Your body is moving up with each of his thrusts just to make it that much more painful, and his lips continue to lay against yours. He’s truly waiting for you to kiss him back like you have the ability to do it. Like you can truly think of anything else rather than what he’s doing between your legs. 

Hah. 

“You’re so gone, baby.” He smiles in a breath at your failure to do anything more than leave your mouth open for him. He’s fucking floored by how much you love this, and how you truly embrace the inability to think at this moment. “You’re loving this, hm?”

You can’t even not for him this time, feeling pangs of pain and pleasure shoot through your body with each sharp thrust. 

“Try again, pretty girl.” He encourages you when he licks against your bottom lip again, gripping your hair with his other hand and craning your neck back. 

”You can do it, come on.” He adds, biting against your neck and licking the mark. 

You once again, can’t even try, because he accentuates each word with a drag of his pulsing cock and a sharp pressure against your clit with his abdomen. So, you stop trying, falling into the depths of the sensations and allowing yourself to lose your grasp on reality entirely. 

Fucking hell, he loves it. The way you come undone, the way your entire body goes clack before shaking uncontrollably with a wet spurt of your pussy trying to push him out. He can feel you clench around him, your body acting on instinct to push, push, push, the pleasure out and all over him. 

He has to hold back his own impressed moan at the way he stays buried into you as you squirt around him with that pretty, pained look on your face. 

“Fuck, that feels good, doesn’t it?” He grunts out, slowing his pace to feel you clench around him fully, enough to where he needs to brace himself to pull out slightly just to shove his cock right back into that quivering mess. “So out of it too, god–” He moans now, leaning back just to look down fully. Noting how you’ve left a mess all over him. 

And you still continue to quiver, your pussy still clenches and grips him. All the way until you’re slack, still clenching, and he’s now pumping his cum into you with such a relieved moan that it almost brings you back to reality. 

By the time he’s done shaking on top of you, out of breath, and pulling out, your ears are ringing save for his soft voice. 

“Baby?” You hear him say as he dips down beside your head. “I got you.” 

You manage to nod to him and smile in a drunken kind of daze as he lifts you from the bed for the proper clean up from a boyfriend who very much loves you. 

[astridthevalkyrie]

oh my god, bakugo's kind of my friend! | k. bakugo x reader

----> summary: You'd never dare tell anyone that he was your friend. You'd never be so bold. Katsuki agrees. He's definitely not your friend.

----> warnings: quirkless university au, video game violence, fluff n feelings

----> a/n: title blatantly stolen from the office—"oh my god, dwight's kind of my friend!"

----> word count: 2k

God, no, you’re not friends with Katsuki Bakugo.

No one is.

Yeah, okay, that’s not totally true. He’s sort of friends with Ochako, that’s how you met him. He’s actually fairly close to Izuku and Eijiro, his roommates. He tolerates Shoto, might even begrudgingly respect him. And he’s got some weird mutual-depression pact going on with Kyoka. 

But you’re not any of them. And you vehemently deny it when people ask, lest he, heaven forbid, think you’re going around telling people he likes you. You saw what happened to Neito last year when he, just once, said something about his friend Katsuki. You’re pretty sure it was the reason behind his switching majors, too, just to avoid being in the same classes with the terrifying blonde.

Sure, you’re in his apartment. Neito’s never stepped foot in here (aside from The Incident). And you’re well acquainted with the people he does clearly consider not-enemies. Earlier today, you and Momo had been out getting chips and soda for tonight. Just half an hour ago, you’d been playing blind karaoke with Eijiro, Izuku, and Ochako on Kyoka’s old laptop and mic that somehow both still had really good audio quality. Not to mention, you and Mina have had at least one class together every semester since you both started—she always races to slide into the chair next to you on every first day.

And you’re currently sitting on Katsuki’s couch, two feet away from Katsuki, playing a battle royale on Katsuki’s console.

“Behind the building,” he mutters, and you hum in acknowledgement, running to the spot he generously marked on the map.

It started a long while back. You and Denki had been playing some shitty racing game, and you’d very easily kicked his ass, leaving him groaning and flopping back onto Kyoka’s lap, where she offered no pity, rolling his head off with a light shove. As you were laughing at the display, Katsuki had taken Denki’s place on the floor, and all but demanded you pick up the controller once more.

(You’d won again. Terrified, you simply claimed that your controller must be broken before racing out of the room.

Imagine your surprise when, the next time you visited, he’d barked at you to assist him with a multiplayer, ordering a pouty Denki off the couch.)

You like playing, and you don’t have a console with as much storage back home, and you’re too broke to be buying multiple games anyways, so you don’t mind taking advantage of Katsuki’s appreciation for your skill. It’s usually a nice way to end the night, whether you and Ochako end up leaving or if you fall asleep right there on the couch.

Shivering, you bring your feet under the wool blanket you’d brought with you. You’re the only one who finds the apartment freezing. Everyone else typically sheds their extra layers, while you once hunted down Eijiro’s sock drawer to steal a pair of He-Man stockings for the night. 

“Up in the window,” you warn, at the same time he says, “Oi.”

Both of you meet each other’s gaze for a second in bewilderment, before rapidly turning your attention back to the TV. He dodges the shot from the window, and then continues.

“You been tellin’ people I hate you?”

“What?” Your hands almost drop the controller, but you regain control just quick enough to roll out of the way of a grenade. “No.”

“Kirishima said Tetsutetsu told him that Kendo told him that Tokage told her that you told her I hated you.”

If you weren’t nervous, you’d tell Katsuki you were surprised he even knew all those names. “I didn’t say that. I just said we weren’t friends.”

There’s an awfully long pause. You can still hear the sounds from the game, and the chatter of everyone else in the apartment—Hanta’s trying to rap?—but not a word from your couch partner. If it weren’t for the screen in front of you, you’d be nervously biting your nails or just full on escaping, honestly. Not that you’re scared of Katsuki, at least not more than one should be, but…

Well, the truth is you did see him as a friend. Or, screw it, as more than that, if those little arrhythmias you observed in yourself every time he would raise his hand in greeting when he passed you on campus were any indication. And you know it’s going to hurt—it already does—to hear him confirm the same thing that you told everyone when they asked. That you meant very little to him, in the long term.

“We’re not friends, huh?” he finally says, as more of an inquiry than you’d expected it to sound.

Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t stop staring straight ahead, spamming X to whack someone over the head with a bat. “Um. Are we?”

“Isn’t this your favorite game?” he shoots back, as though that answers your question.

“Yes? So?”

Another pause. You climb up to the roof of some building and emote pointlessly before hopping down and ducking behind a bush to heal. Katsuki lets out a mix of a sigh and a grunt, dashing across an abandoned minefield. 

“So,” he snarks, “I only bought it after you told me it was your favorite.”

Faintly, you feel the tips of your ears grow hot. Is that true? That can’t be true, can it? The timing does line up. You think it was back in the first week of October that you mentioned it, and then by Halloween you’d already played several rounds. Between that and losing to Momo in several games of pool, finals month had flown by.

But…

“I didn’t even tell you that.” Your voice comes out meek, and even though you’re in a safe space now, you’re still too nervous to turn your head and look at him. “I was talking to Shoto.” You’d even been half sure that Shoto wasn’t really registering what you were saying, with Ochako an inch away from him shrieking starships were meant to fly-y-y-y-y directly into his ear.

Katsuki grunts. “I was there, wasn’t I?”

If you wrack your memory, you can sort of remember it. He was…on Ochako’s other side? When she got drunk, she usually wanted to whack something, and Katsuki’s arm had been her victim that day, her palm smacking against his elbow at every other sung word.

The heat from your ears travels down to your neck. Over the singing and over everyone else’s conversations, was he paying attention to…you?

“I appreciate it,” you squeak quickly, wincing when you’re shot in the leg, “I mean, that was nice. Thank you. I just—I didn’t think you wanted me telling people we were friends, after what happened to—”

“If you bring up Monoma, I’ll take away your blanket,” he threatens; it makes you chuckle weakly. “You’re not that shithead. He pisses me off. You’re…you know.” You don’t know, actually. “You.”

Yeah, you’re you. You play games with him. You know his friends. You’re the only one who can try to outdance Eijiro to Rasputin in Just Dance. What does any of that have to do with…

“Do you think I ever fuckin’ carried that dick’s bag to class?”

“I don’t—”

“Do you think I had his stupid long ice cream order memorized? Pistachios, on the sides only,” he mimics, and you huff in an affronted sort of way, defensive of your topping choices. “Telling people to shut up so that I could hear what he was saying? Turning up the heat and burning up everyone in the apartment just to keep him warm? Was I inviting him to my place every two weeks just to fuckin’ watch him play Kingdom Hearts 3?”

And so, you finally look to the side. Katsuki’s cheeks are red, and his gaze is still on the television. His thumbs move furiously against the controller, and you have to bite your lip to prevent a quiet you’re really cute, you know that? from carelessly slipping from your mouth.

“But, to be fair,” you attempt, still confused, “you don’t exactly do all of that for your other friends either, Katsuki.”

At your words, he slouches into his seat more, the creases on his forehead deepening as an uncharacteristic frown—a frown, not a scowl—forms on his face. One would think you’d just told him you hated his guts. 

“Yeah.“ His glare flickers over to you for a moment. “Exactly.”

There’s a blast from the TV and a realization that hits you at the same time. 

You’re not his friend. He doesn’t see you as a friend.

The heat finally reaches your cheeks, and your mouth falls open slightly. 

Then, realizing something else, your head immediately snaps back to the screen to see that blast sound had actually been your character getting blown up. 

Your mouth falls open. You’d looked away for a few seconds at best. Which aces are in the lobby tonight?

“I lost,” you tell him, crestfallen. 

Katsuki snorts. “I didn’t.”

He keeps playing, and your cheeks don’t take any time to cool down. Instead, you stare at him while he’s distracted trying to escape the same vicious bastards who hunted you down, and you note that his face doesn’t look any less heated either. For once, it’s clearly not because he’s just getting into the game.

You wonder if that was ever the case at all, or if he just felt the same striking little jolt you did everytime you two accidentally bumped into each other while playing on this exact couch.

“I think I’m done for tonight.” The announcement comes out a bit louder than you expected. “I’ll probably head back.”

“I don’t think so.” Without breaking his eyes away from the TV, he nudges his head in the direction of the bedrooms. “Uraraka’s dead on her feet, and you’re not walkin’ back alone.”

Has he always purposely caused the fluttering in your chest? “Okay, well. Izuku’s still awake, I’ll just take his bed for now.”

Katsuki’s tongue clicks in a fuck-around-and-find-out kind of way. “Alright. Put the controller back before you go.”

“Fine. Where’s the, uh…” You turn your head this way and that, looking for the little box that they all go in.

“On my right,” he offers casually, not a hint on his face that he essentially just confessed to you.

Feeling a little spiteful, you reach to the side, blanket and all, instead of just standing up and going behind the couch like you would any other day. Purposefully blocking his view of the screen as you reach over him to toss the controller into the box, you smirk slightly when another blast signals that he’s died as well.

Only to yelp when a firm arm shoves you down against his chest.

“Would you look at that,” he murmurs, red eyes glittering in amusement as he watches you struggle on his lap, “I lost too.”

Tokage is going to hear a very different story tomorrow. “And how’s that my problem?”

His grip tightens, fingers gently digging into the thick cloth of the blanket that’s draped over you. “I wanna play again. And I’m cold.”

There’s a small, dumb grin on his face that you’d consider kissing off if it wasn’t mirrored by an equally dumb one of yours. You’re pretty sure Katsuki’s never ever complained about the cold in his apartment. But then, he’s never complained about the heat either. If he wants to be a sauna under you, who are you to deny him? Besides, you’re feeling cold too, you might as well just take advantage of the free insulation.

From the table, in the midst of pouring something that looks like cookie batter into a bowl, Kyoka raises her brow at the sight of you, then pats Tenya’s arm and points. 

He mouths something like, “Finally.”

Face burning once more, you bury your face in Katsuki’s neck, and relax in his hold while he presses X to replay.

[theoldsports]

In an alternate universe where art wasn’t involved in such a toxic situation, what would college art be like as a boyfriend? I’d love to hear your thoughts!

I feel like he’d be open to just about anyone as long as they had a good personality and a good heart. It wouldn’t matter if they played tennis or not; he’d love them for them and hope they’d love him just the same. Idk just some thoughts 💭 😚

Art is the boy that has had a broken heart one too many times and too much shit talked about him for him to run around hurting someone directly on purpose. He is, as far as college athlete relationships go, an exceptional boyfriend.

Art’s major is also Physics. It’s Physics. No arguments.

His girl parties? He’ll show out if it doesn’t ruin his game/practice schedule that weekend. His girl hates parties? They’ll stay in.

As a matter of fact, Art’s probably gonna swing for a girl that’s not a tennis player, but kindly tennis-curious. He likes having someone to teach about the game. And to mutually learn about her world and interests.

He’s probably gonna pull a talker. Art is a talker when he’s with another talker, but he has a hard time with other more reserved folks day in and day out.

Once he starts talking though, Art’s going to keep talking.

The kid knows he has a difficult schedule, but he’s going to want to spend time with his girl. Just the walking between places, having lunch, going to Target, studying, catching a cigarette behind the athletics complex kind of time. Those are the best moments of his day.

Art is going to ask to move into an off-campus apartment with his girl way sooner than is rational. Dealing with thin walls, squeaky lofted beds and roommates doesn’t yield a healthy relationship necessarily.

He loves staying in bed all day with her. Just laying there and chatting.

Unfortunately, he’s a really early riser. Art was conditioned to be. On school days, he’s very oh, yeah, I go up at six, ran a mile and had some toast. You want coffee? There’s some on the counter. Like that’s a normal way to be.

His media comprehension for plots in movies isn’t high. Movie nights are kind of wait, I don’t get why it’s call Ocean’s Eleven. So Art gets a lot of that explained to him and he… likes having the little things explained to him like he’s stupid. It’s funny, because he’s so fucking smart that his girl always wondered if he was faking it for attention…

Art’s dreadful when he’s sick. He’s not gonna try and push through it. He’s going to lay there and be useless when he’s ill. He wants to be taken care of.

Fundamentally supportive. There is nothing Art will not do to help his girl. Nothing.

He’s helpful with STEM-based homework.

Hand-holder. Art likes leading his girl from place to place. Or maybe being led is more apt.

He’s a lost puppy. His biggest flaw is being too loyal. This could result in brash, clinginess. Not all too bad or traumatic.

Art is a realist. So when he fantasizes with his girl about the future, that is what he wants. This relationship isn’t a joke or some game of chase.

This relationship is the thing that gets him fired up. He will stop at nothing to keep it nice through the good and bad times.

(He also understands that not every time is a good time. He will stay through the shitty moments too)

Art is dreamy. He really, truly is.

[bridellashiper]

You're Submission's what I need/ Queen of Hearts (Bridget) x fem Queen Reader!

Characters included: Queen of hearts (Bridget), Cinderella Charming, King Charming, and Uma

Queen of heart's (Bridget) x fem Queen reader!

Why did I create this? Simple: the Queen of Hearts is attractive, and I strongly believe she's a lesbian. (I think all cold, ruthless, baddie queens with a sad backstory are lesbians.)

Prompt: You are the Queen of the Seas, Uma's aunt and elder sister to Ursula and Uliana. When word reaches you that your niece is being held against her will by the ruthless Queen of Hearts herself, you decide to pay a visit. After all, nobody messes with your family, right? However, things take an unexpected turn when the Queen realizes just who you are.

TW! Before reading this, note that there is no use of Y/N or '(Y/N)', and you have a name. This will be written in the third person POV, with mature language and subtle implications of sex as a bribe.

---

Ursa, Queen of the Seas, was a name that struck fear into the hearts of those who spoke it. You were feared across all sea lands, and for good reason.

However, that didn’t mean you were cold to your flesh and blood, including all of Uma's mates.

So, when you received a message that your niece was being held against her will, along with others, you were angered but also curious.

Who was foolish enough to hold someone dear to you against their will, knowing who you are?

Was it Hades? Surely not. The old beast had better things to do than provoke the Sea Queen. Maybe it was Morgie or even Hook? They weren't very fond of you, and the feeling was mutual.

They were the worst set of mates you’d seen your younger sister crew with, but you had no say in that. You did, however, warn them once: you'd find them, skin them alive, and then proceed to drown them if they ever hurt Uliana.

Needless to say, you weren’t too happy to learn your niece was being held against her will.

What the fuck happened here?

That was all you could think as you stepped into the dry lands of Auradon Prep, brushing off any sand and dust that clung to your dress. It had been years since you last willingly set foot in Auradon (though you weren't invited back; you were just here to make sure Uma was okay).

Everything was... different. Not that you were complaining; the place needed a makeover, even if it was a bit unusual. In a way, you found it oddly fascinating. The skies seemed darker, a crimson shade of red, and it was eerily quiet.

Quietly making your way through the empty halls of what you assumed was Auradon Prep, you found yourself at a dead end, large cards blocking all views and ways into where the people resided.

You huffed in annoyance, retracing your steps back to the sea to see if you could get in through the top, and luckily, you could.

Using your tentacles to lift you upwards, you quietly observed from above.

Your steely gaze swept over the crowd of cowering, fearful, and hateful eyes until they landed on a certain green-haired woman—there she was!

Held against her will,indeed, but no harm had come to her. Sighing in relief, you felt as though you could finally breathe properly.

After a few seconds, Uma caught your gaze from where she knelt, her eyes lighting up when she spotted you. Winking at your niece, you placed a finger to your lips, signaling her to stay quiet. Heeding your silent warning, Uma sent you a playful eye roll and a slight pout.

"Let me go!" Snapping your attention back to the drama unfolding before your eyes, your interest piqued as you set eyes upon a redhead.

So it was the Queen of Hearts who had your niece. Though you can't say you remember her like this—villainous and evil—it suited her.

"Oh, Charming. So nice to see you again," Bridget spoke, her voice steady and so unlike the girl you vaguely remembered (the version your sisters used to tell you about: bubbly, sweet, nice, and oh-so-desperate for a friend or two).

"Where is she? Where is Cinderella?" Shoved to the ground, Charming groaned from the fall, and Bridget seemed to relish in it all.

Turning, she picked up a pair of glass shoes that belonged to Cinderella.

"Why—"

"No..."

"Are you looking for these?" she taunted, dangling the glass pair on the tips of her fingers as she stared at the kneeling man. You shifted a little, now watching the show unfold with keen interest.

"What have you done?" His voice broke and cracked a little, and for a moment, you felt pity for the poor guy—after all, he did just lose his happily ever after.

Throwing the glass shoes against the ground floor, they shattered, pieces flying everywhere. The black-haired man broke at the sight.

"Not so funny now, am I?" Bridget retorted, watching as the man fumbled forward, hands trembling as he attempted to pick up the pieces of the broken shoes. She smiled, wicked and evil in every sense.

Hot. Fucking. Hot.

"No... What... No... No... No!" he shouted, and she continued to laugh, relishing in his brokenness.

"Guards, take him away. I want him out of my sight," the redheaded Queen ordered firmly, gazing into the eyes of each of her faithful yet fearful guards, and they nodded without a word.

"Well, that was interestingly brutal," you muttered to yourself with a soft chuckle. However, it died down when Uma sent you a look.

The kind of look that said, "I'm telling mom if you don't hurry up and turn this shit-show around," and you groaned softly to yourself.

With an eye-roll, you dove back into the depths of the sea, a swirl of water circling around your form, drawing everyone's attention as expected.

As you landed on the hard surface of the floor, people made space for you, and guards stepped back, armed and alert as your figure became clearer.

You wore a beautiful deep blue mermaid dress, with a plunging neckline that complemented your body perfectly. As the water completely disappeared, you emerged from the depths.

"Alright, as much as I loved the show, I have to put a stop to this... whatever this is," you spoke up, gesturing towards the crowd and the scene in front of you.

"And who are you to demand that?" Bridget replied, her gaze curious and wary, eyeing you from head to toe before they landed on your face.

"Ursa, Queen of the Seas. Though I doubt any of you have heard of me," you murmured the last part, glancing around at everyone—the parents, the fearful children, and then the guards. They wore cool masks, but they didn’t fool you.

You knew fear when you saw it.

"I don't think I've heard of you... Hmm..." The redheaded woman hummed thoughtfully to herself for a while, seemingly lost in her world of thoughts.

While she was, you glanced towards your niece, quietly making your way towards her. Uma smiled, slowly and brightly. You'd come to save her, and she was thankful for it.

When two guards stopped you, you stared up at the two men and scoffed. Tentacles emerged from within you and effortlessly lifted them off the ground, throwing them elsewhere.

As you came face to face with your niece, you sighed in relief and silently pulled her into a tight hug.

"Excuse me—"

Turning away from Uma towards the redheaded queen, who was smiling tightly, you nodded.

"I don't think I've heard of you before..." Repeating her words once more, it felt like a demand, as if she commanded you to tell her who you are.

Giggling lightly, you crossed your arms over your chest, giving her a once-over to appreciate the beauty standing before you.

"I said my name's Ursa, didn't I? Wait, I forgot to mention I'm related to someone you may or may not dislike—" Humming to yourself, you shrugged. Oh well, she’d come to know who you are one way or another.

"—Uliana. Does that name ring a bell?" you asked, taking a confident and taunting step forward, not too close to invade her space but enough to smell her perfume.

"You..." she murmured, her gaze suddenly turning darker and colder. A slow smile crept its way to your mouth, and you sighed.

"No, no. I'm not the younger sister; I'm the older one, not Ursula. God no, that idiot wouldn’t last a day being Queen. Like I said before, I’m Ursa, Queen of the Seas and firstborn daughter of Aquarayna."

Gasps and whispers spread among the crowd, but your gaze stayed fixed on the wicked beauty in front of you.

"I see now. I assume you're here for the Uma girl then. Well, that’s too bad. I don't give, I take. Now, kneel."

Inwardly, you cursed up a storm. Of course, she’d say something like that. What could you say to sway her? Then, a dirty and wicked thought crossed your mind. Why not bribe her with something she—hopefully—couldn't refuse?

Sex.

It was risky and stupid but consequences be dammed when the life of your niece in the hands of Bridget.

Instead of heeding her warning, you took another step forward, invading her personal space as the others watched on, breaths held, waiting for your answer.

"What if I give you something else instead, something you very clearly need, hmm?" You murmured, hand brushing against her soft skin as she stared down at you.

''And what would that be, Hmm? what could you possibly have that I would want?'' She scoffed, a bitter sound as she shook her head.

Leaning forward, you whispered in her ear, your breath hot against her seemingly cool and cold skin. ''Indulgence, pleasure I doubt you've felt in a while. Only, if you release Uma and keep her unharmed''

A/N: If you want a part 2 dm me ideas bcs after writing this shit-show I have literally no ideas for anything else for a bit (literally put my tears blood and sweat into this shit. I also wanted to apologise fornot be active in literally MONTHS.)

[tomomiisasleep]

notes on Harryanthe which I am crazy about, in HtN

this dumb little interaction just stuck with me. I mean they're almost always high-strung in the detailed plot, like in almost every one of the Ianthe-centered scenes one of them is in some kind of pain

but I know they have chill moments. mundane moments. petty arguments, like the one in the post scrips of the letter. And I so badly want to read those!!

anyways. I'm gonna start collecting scraps here.

you might have given Ianthe Tridentarius the pleasure of opening the note labelled Upon the death of Harrowhark Nonagesimus. Your only hope for that note was that it contained a single sentence along the lines of, Get what joy you can from my corpse, you devious bitch, but it was written by a previous self and you could not risk a guess.

Harrow: what if I didnt hate her and that makes me wanna have a lobotomy yeah that makes sense

Once, vilely, from Ianthe; she had ensconced you in fat and rolled you down the hallway out of danger, and still laughed whenever she thought about it.

ok this is just Ianthe being a little pest, but it also means that she talks about this and laughs in Harrow's face, which makes her a little bitch, but also like it means they often chat and Ianthe would be like: Yeah today I tried the theorem on apples again, but I tweaked it by directing the flow of thalergy from- hey Harry do u remember the time I saved your life hahahahahaha

The mockery you endured for needing her proximity was exquisitely painful, but humiliation was steadily becoming your existence whole and entire.

I want to know what exactly this mockery entails

It had been very nicely matched to the original until she had ceased using it altogether, and the difference was more pronounced each day. Unconscious of your critical eye, she scratched fretfully at the line until red hives appeared.

Ianthe squirming under Harrow's gaze for once

She was in a filthy mood, if she was wearing that thing, with her arm exposed.

Harrow has been keeping tabs on the state of her arm problem ever since she first woke up on the Erobos. Same as how Ianthe has been keeping tabs on the results of her lobotomy.

she said, blue eyed, those oily little freckles glittering almost pinkly above the dress. They reflected the red rims of her eyelids. You thought that she had been crying.

yeah stare at her eyelids Harrow, and sniff her discreetly all the time, sweat musk vetiver am I right (also have I expressed how crazy it drives me that she wears masculine perfume??????????? no well IT'S SO *faints*

You got better autopsies of her encounters with Beasts than you did from your own, as Augustine was wont to explain significantly more to her than either he or Mercy did to you.

Ugh why why why in this whole book I have not seen them talk shop with each other even once??? Except Harrow showing off after making the arm. Harrow has discussions with Pal all the time in GtN. clearly she trades notes on necromancy with Ianthe frequently. but no, gloss over Ianthe's intellect and just write her freak(fond) moments

You had once been fool enough to recommend that Ianthe take them down, at which point she had rustled up another from the bathroom and hung it in pride of place above an overpainted dresser.

love her

“Oh, heaps,” said Ianthe, who appeared not to have taken offence at your rejection. It was so impossible to tell, with Ianthe. “I made it. It’s vile.”

Maybe she really doesn't care about the rejection or even likes it, but "so impossible to tell" kinda hints that, well she might be hurt,maybe, there just isn't any proof

It was not a connection formed of any mutual admiration; if anything, the more you saw of Ianthe the less likely you were to mistake her for likeable. She made herself like an overdecorated cake: covered so thickly in icing and fondants and gums that it would take serious excavation to find any bread. As a necromancer she was a genius, though you thought she relied too much on shortcuts and circumventions. She had an exceptionally fine mind. She was not afraid of rigour.

If Harrow doesn't have the hots for her at least I do.

Honestly on my first read I took stuff like "not likeable" and "“Tell me to stop breathing,” she said. (“I have, on multiple occasions,” you said.)" at face value and actually thought Harrow genuinely hates her and is forced to interact with her because there's no one else. Which is true. But she's also very attracted to her and I kinda overlooked it at because I thought those feelings were mutually exclusive. And they're not. which I'm obsessed with.

Or she won't think Ianthe's beautiful and note details about how she dresses all the time.

Seriously Harrow's special fixation on "how Ianthe's clothes make her look" is hard to ignore.

for example:

The mother-of-pearl made Ianthe’s hair a lurid yellow and threw up all the mustard tints of her skin; her face was blotchy, and her eyes were sleepless pits. She looked like shit.

The skirts and waists were all beautifully cut for someone of a different height and body type than Ianthe possessed. They were tight where they should have been loose and loose where they should have been tight. They looked like her burial clothes, and she looked as though she had emerged fifty years after that burial.

she answered after a long, scuffling minute, with sleep in her eyes and her hair in dilute whey tangles over her neck and shoulders, wearing a bewildering short garment of violet chiffon.

The back was open, and you could see the fine dents of her spine—her bleached skin bluer and sweeter against the pallid gossamer—and the twin blades of her shoulder blades looked strangely nude and vulnerable to you.

Ianthe was training in her nightgown—a grisly floor-length concoction of pale golden lace that made her long, limber body look like a green-veined mummy

a lone wax figure in pale purple chiffon, tall and colourless—except in the greasy metal of her bone arm, which the lights rendered all the colours of the rainbow.

Ianthe rose soundlessly to her feet, and the long skirts of her nightgown—a brilliant ruffled canary-yellow silk that made her look like a formal lemon—rustled restively around her calves.

Note that Harrow focuses on Ianthe's clothes for how they shape Ianthe's appearance. in contrast:

she ignored your sister, whose pallid eyebrows had shot up so fast and so far that they were in danger of breaking the atmosphere. Mercymorn wore a long slip of peach-coloured silk, and her white Canaanite robe was tucked over her forearms and had slipped entirely off her slender, aggrieved shoulders. She had scraped her hair into a merciless and shining coil at the back of her head, and she had no eyes for either of you.

Obviously Mercy is SUPER HOT here, if Ianthe's reaction means anything. But Harrow only describes her clothing and not how she looks. Same with Augustine's party outfit.

With Ianthe, it's always: she's wearing ..., which makes her look gross. And I did not understand at first but now I know and feel stongly that Harrow is totally into her gross-hotness. well at least I am. the grosser she's described the hotter she is.

[kame-writes]

Some Hazbin Hotel Head Canons I have:

Pt.2

Alastor was both a moonshiner and bootlegger when he was alive. He would have been in his prime during Prohibition, and the hoof prints on his shoes were actually common among bootleggers. They were used to trick police that might try to track them by their footprints.

Those shoes are why he was mistaken by a hunter for a deer. The hunter was tracking the hoof prints.

Mimzys club was a speakeasy, and she was fully aware of Alastor being a serial killer. She used to provide alibis for him when he was alive, which is a reason he covers for and protects her now in their afterlife.

Angel and Husk probably crossed paths in life, but are completely unaware of it. Husk was born and raised in Las Vegas, and the mob was very heavily involved with running most of the casinos. Angel being a mafia son, would have definitely been in Vegas a fair amount before his death.

Sir Pentious used to be seen as a very powerful and dangerous Overlord. Then technology and electronics were introduced, making his steampunk innovation style outdated and people started to see him as a joke. He tried to keep up with the times, but it very bad at it and doesn't understand modern things.

The reason Vox has so many aquatic things and likes sharks, is thematic. The envy ring is aquatic and Vox is a very jealous and possessive person.

Valentino uses his saliva and smoke to make people more pliable and willing to agree with him, this also includes Vox. This is partly how they got together, because Valentino saw Vox as a way to further himself and grow his own power.

Nifftys Soul isn't actually owned by Alastor. She sticks with him because of mutual benefit for the both of them. He's also such a bad boy that she's drawn to being around him and helping him with his schemes.

Husk lost his soul because Alastor made him play an honest game, while Husk was a notorious card shark. The little gold token on Husk's hat is the dealers chip from their game as a reminder.

Husk was not a nice overlord. His redemption is going to rely on him admitting how bad he was in the past and accepting himself as a changed person.

Charlie is the only one who still doesn't realise Alastor is a cannibal. Which is why she was surprised he had a friend in Cannibal Town.

Lucifer knew full well who Alastor was, he was just being an ass. He correctly assumed that implying Alastor was a nobody or not important was the biggest insult he could throw at him.

Angel Dust is always broke. This is partly because before coming to the hotel he was renting an apartment from Valentino with ridiculous rent, and he's still working/paying off his debt.

Before meeting Valentino, Angel was more mafia with his brother. They had a very turbulent relationship, since they weren't very close when they were alive due to Arakniss being more Conservative and serious like their father. They have barely spoken since Angel became a famous porn star, and Angel just assumes that Niss now hates him for being 'an embaressment'.

Part of the reason Angel let Valentino take his soul and lead him to where he is now, is because Val was the only/first person to really encourage Angel's more feminine side and sexuality, and find it attractive. He fell hard for the love bombing, and then had a very rude awakening once Valentino no longer needed to play nice.

Fat nuggets is very special to Angel. He was never allowed pets, and despite him being one of Vals love bombing presents, it reminds him of how happy he was before he learnt the truth about why Val was so loving to him.

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

Physique - A.A.

Pairings: Spawn!Astarion x Fem!Reader/Tav

Warnings: BG3 Spoilers, not really proofread, might trigger some insecurities for some due to content (body/breast comparison), Anxiety, Fluffy, Understanding/Comforting Astarion, Angst, Smut, Breast Worship, Nipple Play, Blood Drinking, Mutual Pining: Astarion x Tav are NOT established (yet), but have slept together in previous acts

Wordcount: 2,564

Summary: You and your fellow companions are out on the town in Baldur’s Gate late one night. After seeing a breathtaking bartender with nice breasts ogling over Astarion, you become insecure with your own breasts. Astarion shows you he doesn’t care what size they are, and proceeds to worship you for the remainder of the night.

A/N: I wrote this due to a recent breakdown about having smaller breasts and not feeling desirable enough in my own body. I absolutely think that breasts of all sizes should be celebrated, if anyone has had similar feelings, this could help you. Additionally, this doesn't only focus on breast size, but the reader's overall body image and insecurities. That being said, it could be relatable for multiple reasons. Also, keep in mind that Astarion is likely incredibly open to any size or shape of any body. He loves us all.

You and the crew entered the Blushing Mermaid, excited to partake in some unwinding given the day you all had. The tavern was very busy on this particular night, although there weren't many days where it wasn't. There weren't many days where you and the party got to celebrate for an evening either. After a long, fearsome battle, you were ready to wind down for the night, but also to have some fun.

That's where the alcohol came in. And lots of it too. Astarion had initially been weary of going to a tavern again, considering his past. But - Cazador was finished now. And to his relief, the environment that that party provided him with was much more pleasant than his typical bar experience.

One of the barmaids almost immediately approached him. She had bright, platinum blonde hair that bordered on white, similarly to his own. Her eyes were a breathtaking shade of blue, and she seemed to have zero hesitation in approaching the pale elf. Her bosom pressed against the lavender fabric that she wore, below a strand of iridescent pearls that reflected the little light that was left in the tavern. Her chest was pressed up by a bronze-toned corset, strung tightly together at her front. This accentuated the woman's already prominent breasts. She wore knee high boots that matched the tone of the corset, and a teasingly white ruffled slip that snuck underneath the purple fabric of the dress.

Typically, she was someone that Astarion would lure back to Cazador, and he hated being reminded of his past self in that regard. She was inarguably attractive, conventionally. So, when she approached him, he did feel pulled to charm her as he typically would. However, he veered towards casual conversation. Now that Astarion knew you, he had a hard time finding anyone else desirable. Even those that he would have once found deliciously stunning bored him. In his defense, they just weren't you.

You had fought by his side and showed him loyalty that he had never known before. You helped him destroy Cazador and set free the remaining vampire spawn. Initially, he was upset that he didn't ascend, but after several long nights stargazing with you and reminiscing, you both concluded that it was for the best. And, of course, in doing so, Astarion had fallen. He spent many nights dreaming of you, fewer were spent with nightmares filled about Cazador. However, you seemed to be a protective shield from these nightmares, so he frequently sought out your presence to comfort him as he fell asleep.

Unbeknownst to you, Astarion was quite smitten. Perhaps omit the word quite and replace it with entirely. Entirely smitten. There was not one part of him that didn't long for your presence always. You had figured that your "one-night stands" were entirely superficial, connecting you to each other's bodies. Though that was what Astarion intended initially, it soon turned into far more than that for him. He was in love with your entire soul, your body, your heart, your mind. Imagine how embarrassed he was when he realized, especially after he planned on simply charming you to trust him and never betray him. Because oh boy, like a fool he felt.

Even more he felt like a fool for not telling you yet. He simply winced when you were hit in battle, as if he could feel the pain you felt. He smiled at you like you were his sunshine, he would trade a life in the sun just to admire your glow, even if just for a moment. That was one of the things that helped him realize he did the right thing, not going through with the ascension. Not that you would have left him, but you certainly would not be as close as you were today.

He felt jealousy coursing through him whenever he watched you talking to one of the other party members for too long. He knew you weren't his property. Despite the few wondrous nights you had spent together, he hadn't admitted to any further feelings to you. He almost did after you defended him so drastically in front of Araj when she asked to have him drink her blood. "He's his own person" you had insisted, and Astarion believed that with those words, you had enlightened a glow in him that had never been seen before, even when he was alive. He felt loved. And he felt love for you, too.

From that day, he believed that without a doubt you had his back. He would make sure to have yours, as long as you'd let him. Honestly, the only reason he let his eyes linger on the barmaid for as long as they did was due to the fact that you would look phenomenal in the same outfit. He looked back at you, and his eyes softened at the sight. You looked as if you had just been body slammed by Karlach. You hadn't, but your constricted pupils told him that something had to be wrong.

Astarion grabbed his drink out of the barmaid's hand, and she stood stunned as he turned away in an instant, heading towards you. He kept his cool, trying to maintain subtly in case you were in danger. You were fairly used to innocent touches by Astarion, but this one felt different. He let his free hand settle on the small of your back, his drink in his other hand. You shuttered as he lent back to whisper in your ear. "Everything okay darling? You seem startled." You nodded timidly, which was unusual for you. Typically, you would meet him with a quip back, but he knew from this simple interaction that you were not yourself. "What's going on in that head of yours?" You couldn't respond. Not that you didn't want to, but more so that you were paralyzed in fear regarding the sight you just saw.

You knew that you and Astarion weren't together, as much as you may have liked to be. The barmaid was likely much more his type, judging from the entrancement he had entered looking at her. What you had - it wasn't anything special. You had merely slept together, and Astarion had only prompted those interactions for his own benefit. He told you that, and you still hoped things could be different. You had hoped that all of those late nights underneath the starry sky could change things between you. And yet, the time never came. In this moment, you felt fairly hopeless.

Astarion waited expectantly for a response from you. "I'm going out to get some fresh air" you spoke suddenly, pulling away from his grasp and taking your own drink in your hand, heading outside as fast as you could. Astarion was approached by the barmaid once more, who was aggravating him at this point, if he had to admit. "Listen, I'm not interest-" he began, but was cut off by her soft voice. "I know. You clearly have an interest in her. I was going to tell you to go after her. Any guy in this bar would be lucky to have her." The words surprised Astarion, as he expected the barmaid's persistent efforts to bed him for the remainder of the night. Astarion looked at her, a little less weary now. "How'd you know?"

"The way you look at her" she said. "The rest of the men in here were staring with lust and desire, especially when you went up to get your drink, when she was alone. But you, as soon as you thought there was something up with her, you looked at her with such concern, compassion, and love." Astarion nodded at this, the barmaid patting his shoulder and ushering him forward. There was a small part of him hung up on her mention of other men looking at you with lust in their eyes, but there were more pressing matters now.

He followed the trail to the exit, looking out the doorway and seeing your beautiful form, unfortunately there were many eyes on you at the present moment. Several men noticed that you had exited and popped out onto the porch with you. You hardly noticed; you were too busy comparing the outline of her chest to your own. You almost drew your weapon at the feeling of Astarion's hand sliding along to sit at the small of your back once more. You drew in a breath and stiffened before you turned to him in recognition. "Goodness you scared me." It was the most honest sentence you had said in the past 20 minutes, and he knew that. He had caught you off guard.

"Should we talk somewhere more private, love?" Gods, you hated it when Astarion used pet names like that. You felt your heart flutter just a little bit too fast. "Please," you spoke, and felt Astarion guide you to one of the private rooms located within the tavern, hidden behind a red velvet curtain that concealed the room’s contents. Astarion flipped a switch to indicate that the room was occupied.

Within, a crimson couch sat, contrasting the wooden floors and dark colored walls. In the middle of the room sat a wood coffee table atop an ornately patterned rug. A few lit candles were grouped on the coffee table, giving the very small room a dim light. It was - cozy.

You sat your drink on the coffee table, Astarion doing the same. He kept his hand attached to the small of your back as he led you to the couch. You both sat down, Astarion holding his hand on your shoulder now. "Darling, talk to me, please. You looked like you had seen a ghost earlier."

You took a deep breath. "I guess I just felt really insecure while looking at that barmaid, that's all" you admitted, and Astarion's jaw nearly dropped, but he managed to keep himself composed, following up with "why?" "There's many components, but to keep it short, I'm insecure about my- my- uhm" you couldn't finish, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Astarion clicked his tongue, which had a slight hint of disappointment in tone. "My boobs, okay?" You stuttered sheepishly, hiding your face in your hands as soon as you finished.

Astarion tried to picture the last time he had bed you. Although, the picture he had replicated in his mind couldn't do you justice. He leant towards your ear, whispering "Darling, I think you might have to refresh my memory. I can't remember your breasts being any less than perfect." You peered up at him, a puzzled look on your face. "Now is not the time for jokes, Astarion." You spat defensively.

"Not a joke in the slightest, my sweet. Will you allow me to jog your memory on your perfection?" Astarion looked genuine, which lead you to give a subtle nod. His fangs peeked out as he smiled at you in response. "Are you comfortable here, my sweet?" You nodded once more, as if you were afraid that words would break the vampire's decision.

Suddenly, Astarion's soft lips were on yours, his tongue following soon after. His hands reached for your corset, which held your bosom beautifully. However, Astarion was even more positive that your nakedness would produce even more breathtaking effects, as it did previously with him. Without even looking, Astarion was able to undo your bodice and strip it from you, so that only your dress remained. He continued to kiss you, then bringing his lips down to lay soft pecks along your neck, leaving a particularly long one against your bitemarks. He transitioned you to a horizontal position, with him atop of you, between your legs.

Before he headed lower on your form, he whispered "you're so beautiful, my dove." He felt your pulse quicken and started to recognize the affect that his praise had on you. He looked up at you, making eye contact and giving you a wink. This man would be the death of you. He released the dress from your bosom, leaving your breasts free for his eyes. "Now, I've missed these." He tutted, flicking your left nipple with his thumb while he brought his mouth to suckle on its partner. Your sensitivity level was clearly heightened, which he took full advantage of, swirling his tongue across your nipple and swishing it back and forth.

“Fuck, Astarion.” You moaned as he continued his pursuit of your pleasure via the excursion of your bosom. Before he let the right one go, he left a trail of love bites around your breast and across your sternum, before continuing his pursuit on the left breast, where he also left a plethora of bruises. If anything, he wanted to take this time to mark you. More importantly, to praise you. “My beautiful love, your boobs are perfect. You are perfect.” His words made you shutter once more. “Star…” Astarion hadn’t heard that little pet name from your lips, but he did enjoy it. “Hmmm, that’s new” he muttered.

“Darling, may I please have a taste?” He gestured to your breasts, showing you his fangs. “Please do,” you responded. You felt Astarion’s cuspids puncture your skin, digging into your breast tissue. The blood supply was scarcer than when he drank from your neck, but he enjoyed it just as much. It just meant he would spend more time suckling on you. Your blood seemed even more delicious than the last time he devoured it. As he suckled from your left breast, he flicked his finger across the opposite nipple.

“Gods, I love you.” Astarion perked up, removing his fangs from your tissue. Did you say that only for the pleasure that he was bringing for you? Did he mishear you? “Pardon?” He spoke while peering up at you. You sat mortified; a hand clasped over your mouth. “I- well” you stuttered out, in utter shock of what you just said. “Did you just say what I think you did?” Astarion inquired. “Depends on what you think I said, I suppose.” You responded shakily, uncertain of your words, but hoping to find a way out. “I love you?” He questioned, watching as your cheeks turned a faint hue of red, cueing confirmation. “Yeah…” you confirmed after a moment. “Truly?” Astarion followed up. If he was human, he would guess that his cheeks would look a lot like yours, flushed. You nodded, glancing embarrassingly at him, hardly making eye contact.

“I love you too, darling.” He admitted, sighing as the pressure was taken off of his shoulders. He shimmied upwards, meeting you face to face and placing another kiss on your lips. “Fuck, do I love you.” He said it again, smiling into the kiss as you reciprocated. These kisses had slightly less passion, although you knew you had a lot of passion to come. For tonight, with love confessions, you would be gentle with one another. The night ended with Astarion on his back, and you cuddled atop him, laying on the couch behind a red curtain.

Your companions were slightly worried at first, before getting confirmation from the barmaid that you two had went to have some fun together. “Well, at least they stopped denying it” said Karlach. The others nodded in agreement, having seen you pining after one another for the past several months.

[monimccoythings]

Hello, Neighbor (C!Wolverine x reader)

I'm so sorry, as much as I adore Hugh Jackman the second I saw that Wolverine something inside me broke and I went feral. I needed to do this. I just love mutual pinning. I'm not specifying which Wolverine because it's a small spoiler (not entirely plot relevant!) but I think we all know who I'm talking about.

Slight NSFW themes, nothing big

X- You usually find him working on his motorbike in the garage below your shitty apartment complex, a cigar in his mouth, and dressed in a thin white tank top that clung to his sweaty and impossibly muscled body like a second skin.

X-Not gonna lie, since the very first moment you laid eyes on your new neighbor you have had the hots for him. Who wouldn't??

X-He was the quiet type. Reserved, with a permanent scowl that seemed to drive away anyone who crossed his path. You understood, maybe he valued his privacy. But that didn't mean you weren't going to be as kind as you could everytime you two met.

X-Easier said than done. It was hard to form a coherent thought let alone two sentences when he was in front of you in a leather jacket whose seams were about to burst from the inmense pressure his bulging biceps were submitting them.

X-You saw the corner of his mouth twitch upwards at your antics. Gosh, now he must think you're an idiot. Why wouldn't earth swallow you up once and for all and end your misery??

X-Still, no matter how much you embarrassed yourself you still came for more. Even if it left your heart nearly bursting out of your chest and your insides twisted in knots. It was all worth it just to see his frown loosen.

X-One day, he even dared to show a small smile. And you, being the current monarch of kindness and stupidity, thought it would be a great idea to tell mr. 'dark and broody' that he had a nice smile. He immediately tensed and mumbled some excuse to quickly retreat to his apartment, leaving you alone in a hall that stank of mold and booze.

X- As you dejectedly made your way towards the apartment, you mentally kicked yourself for stepping over his limits. Who were you kidding? That man could have a supermodel every night if he wanted to, of course he wouldn't have any interest in you. He was just being polite. And now you have ruined it. Way to go, Y/N.

────────────────────────────────────────────

X- Fuck. Shit. God fucking damnit. What was that? One compliment and he already turns into a fucking lovesick mutt. He needed a fucking drink.

X- The cold bitter taste of the beer, helped cool the burning fire inside him. He shouldn't have allowed it to go that far. Not with you.

X- He could argue that he barely knew you at all and he had to be careful, but he would be a lying bastard, wouldn't he?

X- When he saw you for the first time, absentmindedly looking through your mail, the animal inside him riled against the bars of his cage, demanding to consume you and possess you. It was overwhelming.

X- He had memorized everything about you: your routine, the music you liked based on what his sensitive ears heard, the way the corner of your eyes crumpled when you smiled, your scent, the sound of your voice, your dressing patterns...

X- He knew each time you went out and each time you brought a man with you. He hated every single one of them, he watched from afar with clenched fists and foam in the corners of his mouth, and desired nothing more than to rip those men to shreds with his claws.

X- He knew when you touched yourself, how poignant and musky your scent became, nearly driving him insane. How husky and soft your voice sounded when you moaned. Sometimes he found himself wishing it was his name you were calling in short breaths, sometimes he wished he was the one making you sigh in pleasure.

X- He was a dangerous man, unstable, full of rage and trauma, with many enemies who would do anything to get back at him. And besides, he was still hurting over Jean, he doubted he could open his heart to anybody else that wasn't that redhead. It was better this way.

X- So he vented his frustrations in alcohol, one night stands and bar fights. Claws unfolding when the treacherous thought of your delicate face came to mind. He had given you thousands of reasons to turn away from him, like the others.

X- Yet, there you were... Always with a smile, always with a nice word for him. If only you knew what he was, what he did, would you run away from him?

X- He couldn't afford this. This couldn't be for him, the closer you got the more dangerous it would be. This itch inside him that wouldn't let you go entirely was urging him to go across the hall and pound on your door until there were no more barriers between you two.

X-However, he knew, that the second he set foot on that corridor, all of his self control and restrain would be thrown out of the window. Even so, he still opened the door of his apartment.

[venture4treasure]

“Of course I dream of more”

Words: 952

Premise: Servant!Reader washes Noble!Venture hair. They have a conversation. 

Warnings: A bit of forbidden love and mutual pining, but otherwise nothing! 

“Lay down,” you instruct, gesturing at the cot – the edge of the bed frame is pressed against a tub of water. 

Venture does as you tell them, tilting their head back into the water. They try to look at you, but you’re a bit too far out of their peripheral vision. 

Pulling over a stool to sit down across from Venture, you dip your hand into the tub of water, it’s a pleasant warm temperature. You splash water onto dry locks of hair before reaching to brush back their bangs, submerging them. You’ve barely done anything and you can see dirt muddying the clear water.

“Thanks for making it warm,” Venture relaxes. 

“As opposed to… cold?” You raise a brow, “why would it be cold”. 

“Some of the other servants don’t bother with warm water,” Venture pouts, “I’m starting to think they hate me”. 

“I’m starting to think I might hate you,” you comment, brushing your hand through their hair and watching debris wash out, “how do you even get so much filth into your hair? Weren’t you supposed to be sword training today?” 

Venture laughs awkwardly. 

“Sloan…” you drawl. 

“Well… I may have been helping out in the mines instead today”. 

“The mines? Isn’t that below your station?” 

“They tell some of the best stories! Besides, father doesn’t need to know”. 

You sigh in disbelief, switching to massaging soap into their hair and head. Venture stops themselves from whatever they were planning to say to lean into your touch. You chase off the silence by humming fragments of a song you heard in passing – it’s not good singing but Venture doesn’t mind, they like to hear your voice. 

“So, do you ever think about doing something different from this?” Venture asks, waving their hand in the air.

“What do you mean?” 

“Like, don’t you ever want to try something different? A different line of work, like being a scholar! God, I wish father would’ve let me just study instead of trying to shape me up into some kind of perfect heir to the family – that’s what Mauga’s gonna be anyways!” Venture groans. 

You chuckle at their whining. 

“No, not really,” you answer, “I don’t think there’s anything else I can do to earn money. I am very lucky and grateful to be doing this in the first place”.

Venture goes quiet, their expression drops into a thoughtful one. They turn over the idea of needing money to live in their mind, it’s a concept so far detached from their day to day life, they don’t really understand it. There was always food if they were hungry, nice clothes for any occasion they could think of, and there was always a roof to go home to. Everything they needed was always there within arms reach.

“If you had the money, what would you do?” Venture wonders, both to you and themselves, “like, a lot of money”.

“I’d find a teacher to show me how to read and write,” you answer without hesitation, “and then… maybe I would travel to different kingdoms. I’d like to dance in those big ballrooms at least once. And… I’d probably find someone who treats me well to settle down with, in a nice and safe house close enough to the city market”. 

Venture glances up at you, taking in your face. Your eyes sparkle dreamily, a soft smile on your lips. Their heart aches at the sight combined with your words. 

You shake yourself out of the fantasy, “but my life now isn’t so bad either, it could be so much worse”. 

“What is your life right now?” 

“Right now, I work for your family, it pays enough to support me. One day, I’ll probably marry someone who’ll want kids, and I’ll try to raise them right…” you slightly cringe at your own reality, “protect them if I have to. I just hope I marry someone decent…” 

“You don’t plan to choose?” 

“I don’t really get a choice,” you shrug, “I have nothing to my name, I’ll probably just marry someone like me. Have kids so there’s someone to support me when I grow old. That’s how it usually goes”.

Venture doesn’t like your answers, they want to see you as happy as you were to share your dream. 

���Sit up a bit please,” you nudge them forward, and Venture pulls their hair from the dirty water so you can rinse out the soap. You comb their hair and lightly scratch their scalp as you clean away the soap. 

“Mann, that feels so nice”.

You make a noise of acknowledgement. 

Finally you’re done with their hair – you always forget how much of a pain it is when it gets dirt tangled in it. You wrap a towel over it so it doesn’t drip onto their clothes. 

“Okay, I’m done”, you announce, getting up to stretch. 

 Venture almost makes a noise of disappointment.

“Hey,” Venture calls out your name lightly, “would you like it if I taught you how to read and write?” 

You turn to face them, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “why?” 

They walk over to you, taking your hands into theirs. 

“Because I think you deserve to have a chance at happiness,” they smile, and there’s so much more they want to say, but they keep it to themselves. 

Your face heats up from the touch.

“Ah-” you stammer, “that would be nice, I’d really like that. Thank you”. 

Venture glows at your reaction, smiling wide. 

“Okay, now help me dry my hair, pleaseee,” they beg. 

“You can do that yourself”.

“I’m going to shake”.

“Do not threaten me,” you shoot back.

Venture holds your stare with determination in their eyes and you falter. 

“Okay, fine!” 

Author’s Note: I realized afterward that this setup doesn’t make sense at all and there’s so many logical issues with the concept but I really wanted to write it anyways. Spare me :( 

Mauga is Venture’s older brother in this. 

I just wanted an excuse to write about Venture’s hair. It’s so fluffy and needs to be appreciated. And they most definitely would shake to dry themselves and splash water everywhere. 

[igncrxntripley]

Hey shawty…

-slides a crumpled up dollar bill and a few buttons-

…Dominik smut? 😁

bully

a/n: *takes dollar bill and buttons in exchange for this hot piece of garbage headcanons*

mentions: NSFW 18+, smut, dom!dominik, top!dominik, fem!reader, sub!reader, bottom!reader, oral, edging, ruined orgasms, kissing, lovebites, mutual orgasms.

taglist: @thesithdiaries @cassiesgreta @roseheartsworld @theworldofotps @babybatlover @ripleyswhore @auburnwrites​ @obl1vionblackhart @emogoblin-666​ @hereliespumpkin @blxxdshxteyes @neptune-lover​ @bunnysmyname​ @i-have-issues-lol @ares-athena​ @thatonepansexual2000​ @witcherfromwallachia

let’s be so real...beneath that sweet face and his caring mannerisms, there's a bully deep down in dominik mysterio that only comes out at very specific times.

he knew exactly what he needed to do in order to get under your skin. dominik was smart, no doubt about that; but you hated how he knew every little fucking button he could push to piss you off.

this time was no different; he'd finally come home from being on the road for weeks on end, and you wanted nothing but a romantic night between the two of you. dominik. however, had other plans.

what were those plans? him stuck between your legs, his mouth pressed to the sensitive bud that had been begging for his attention for weeks, but not letting you gain any kind of satisfaction.

he'd get you close, right up to the edge as you were about to finally reach the high you'd been anticipating from dominik since he went on the road...but he'd stop right before you could get anything.

after almost half an hour, dominik had already ruined a handful of orgasms on your end to the point where he had you trembling and whining underneath his touch.

"i-i fucking hate you..." you'd tell him, your hands gripping his hair for dear life as his own hands would wrap around your thighs to keep you from squirming away.

dominik was an asshole; every time you'd beg or tell him you hated him, he would look up at you and laugh.

not only that, but dominik had a way of using his words to not only piss you off even more, but turn you on more than you already were.

"aww, you hate me? that's so cute, babygirl. keep telling me that." he'd tease, and you'd groan in complete and utter disdain as his tongue would continue to torture you. "if you wanna keep telling me that, then i'll just go ahead and end this right here. i won't be nice and give you what you want."

dominik wasn't bluffing either. he'd done it before - leave you in a puddle of your own arousal and tears, having only given you the bare minimum and not nearly enough to let you receive any kind of satisfaction for being an asshole right back to him - and you learned your lesson after that.

eventually though, after your begging turns into quiet chanting with mumbles of please...please... mixed in with your own moans and other incoherent words, dominik would give in. but not without doing it his way.

if dominik is going to make you finish, he's going to do it in a way that gives both of you pleasure; especially if he's been gone on the road. he's just as desperate as you are, but he's not going to show it just yet because this is about you.

once he's done with his mouth and decides that he's had enough of teasing you, he always comes back up for air to give you gentle kisses on the lips and cheeks. "you've been so good for me, yeah? such a patient girl, chica." he whispers against your skin, letting you know that the gentle dom you fell in love with is still deep down in there. "just a little bit longer, amor."

that being said, he takes his sweet time with you; gently pushing himself into you, holding your body flush against his as you adjust to him after all this time away, and whispering those same gentle spanish words in your ear as he slowly starts to move his hips. this gentle side of dominik was your favorite part of him - it always reminded you why you loved him, even though he knew what buttons to push.

dominik isn't going to rush any part of this. even though you're moaning and begging for him, he continues to whisper sweet words and leave gentle love bites on your skin to let you know he hears you, but that he's also not ready for these moments to end just yet.

but eventually, dom lets you know with a soft kiss to the lips that he's ready. "cum for me, chica. te amo, mi amor."

both of you are holding one another tighter than ever before and your moans synchronize, your nails scratching down his back to leave your own marks that show he belongs to you just as much as your his. dominik works you through every bit of it until you come down from your highs together, and the two of you exchange the goofiest pleasure-filled smiles you could manage.

dominik knows he was an ass in the beginning to, so he always follows up with the gentle reminders that he's only playing. that usually means lots of cuddles, ordering food for his first night home with you in weeks, and a nice warm bath...but just as he's taking care of you, you're always planning your payback in the back of your mind.

[thefloorisbalaclava]

I I if maybe you could give me a bit of angry König 🥺.

Just I just wanna leak some important Intel and get abducted by that mountain of a man and have my little pussy ruined in an confined space. I would love mutual pining co-workers to enemies having some hate sex. I need him to call me an ossi, a filthy piefke verräterin. He's maybe still bitter about his hochkönig origins.

It is so soothing to read all these fics, finally dirty talk that makes sense in my head. Even if at times it's a little bad. Thank you thank you.

König x f!reader

Warnings: kinda rough sex, angry könig, kissing, cunnilingus, fingering

You shouldn't enjoy the way he glares at you--those gorgeous eyes of his boring into your very soul. You should be afraid, and though your heart does beat a little faster, it has nothing to do with fear.

You had been told that König got along with everyone, but you soon found that once you lose his trust, there is no coming back.

It was one lousy mistake. The one time you didn't listen to his orders and everything went to shit. He blamed you for it and now you were dealing with the consequences.

No matter how hard you tried, he drifted further away.

The truth is, he has a broken heart, one that he shouldn't have in the first place.

But you don't know that. How were you supposed to know?

You hate the tension that has grown between you two. You hate how he looks through you now instead of at you how he used to. You wanted your König back, but he was making it nearly impossible.

You have to corner him, you thought. Good idea, but how the hell will you corner a man who can shove you aside with one swipe of his arm?

You'd think of something.

--

The opportunity presents itself when walking past the gym at an ungodly hour. You both didn't sleep well, so you aren't surprised to see him in there. You walk in quietly and watch him for a moment, worrying your lip between your teeth as he grunts with each rep.

"Hi," you say quietly.

He stops and turns to you. "Hello." He hesitates but only shakes his head and turns away again.

"What are you doing up?" you ask.

"You know the answer to that," he says without turning around. You walk into his line of vision.

"I couldn't sleep either," you tell him. "Can we talk?"

"About what?" he asks, but you know that he knows.

"About the fact that one little mistake I made has you treating me like shit," you say a little angrier than you wanted.

"It was not a little mistake," he say, breathing heavily. He stands and walks away from you.

"Talk to me." You jog to catch up to him and block his path.

"No."

You look around for something, anything to stop him. "Spar?" That gets his attention. You walk over to the mat and wait for him.

"I don't want to hurt you," he says even as he makes his way over.

"I'll be fine." You take off your hoodie.

"Remember to..."

"Go low," you say, "I know."

"Why are you doing this?" he asks.

"Because I want to. If you're this angry at me, then...let it out."

He freezes in place and glares at you. "Are you asking me to hurt you?"

You shrug. "I don't know what else I need to do to make you---"

He storms up to you. "You have lost your fucking mind," he snaps. "To think I would intentionally hurt you..." Suddenly, he grabs your face, smushing your cheeks. You only look at him.

"I'm sorry," you mumble.

He lets your face go, only to grab your wrist and drag you out of the gym and down the hall. He opens the first door he sees, and it looks to be some sort of storage closet.

"What the hell?" You eye him angrily.

He takes a few deep breaths, his big hand on the closed door.

"You want to know why I am so angry with you?" he asks, still not looking at you.

"That would be nice," you say in a snappy tone.

"You compromised so much," he says, "All because you don't fucking listen."

"I know what I did, König! How long will you punish me for it?!" you shout. He claps a hand over your mouth and just stares at you. You look into his eyes, showing no fear. He drops his hand slowly and then pulls up his sniper hood before crushing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss.

"Mm!" you whimper, tucking your hands under his hood into his hair. You both begin stumbling around until your back finally hits a shelf. The things on it shift precariously, and you both pause. After a few breaths, he kisses you again, pushing his knee between your legs.

"You...are a bad girl," he says, his voice rougher than usual. "Aren't you?"

"Yes," you breathe.

"I think that is why I like you so much." His eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips. "I want you."

"You can have me, König..."

"Any way I want?" he asks, pushing himself against you.

"What do you mean?"

"I...I want to be so deep inside you that you never forget. I want to leave you pleasantly sore so that every time you move, you think of me."

"König," you moan.

"Not here," he says before opening the door slowly and looking out. Suddenly, he's pulling you along again, but this time it's to somewhere familiar—his room.

His room was always so inviting to you. It always smelled nice and was tidy. You usually had time to look around a sit for a while, but this time there was none of that.

As soon as the door is closed, he is on you, pressing so close it's like he's attached to you.

He pulls his sniper hood off in a hurry and swallows your gasp with a desperate, angry kiss. "Are you ready?" he asks, but your brain is so muddled that you're not sure how to answer. Suddenly, his hand is down the front of your pants.

"Ah!" you squeal as he walks you toward the bed, hand staying firmly in your pants. He only takes it out to get you on the bed and practically tears your pants and panties off. His fingers are on and in you in no time as he presses his forehead to yours.

"I'm going to take you," he whispers, "...but I don't want to hurt you."

"Just...do what you want, König..."

He hums happily, sliding himself between your legs to taste you. You can't remember the last time he did this to you, but it is happening now, and it is perfect. He still takes his time getting you ready despite being rushed and frantic.

He doesn't bother taking the rest of his clothes off, but just him having his face revealed to you is enough to make this intimate.

You help him get his belt and buttons undone before he pushes you back down and lifts one leg to his shoulder. You can feel the cool metal of his belt buckle against your too-hot skin.

"When was I inside you last?" he asks. He pushes into you slowly, and you both cry out. "Fuck...I want to stay inside you forever." With one deep thrust, he's entirely inside of you. Your toes curl and he chuckles.

"More! Harder!" you beg

"The Königin gets what she wants," he growls before grabbing your other leg. He grips your hips tightly before thrusting into you fast and hard.

"Oh god! Oh fuck!" you cry. "Fuck me, König." You say it with the perfect accent, pushing him closer to the edge.

"How does it feel?" he asks.

"Amazing," you whimper.

He spreads your legs so he can lie between them now. You wrap them around his waist, and he continues fucking you into his mattress.

"On top," he grunts. "You...on top..." He grabs you and turns you with him, so you are riding him now. You try to keep the same pace. You can for a time, but when he sees you getting tired, he plants his feet flat on the mattress and begins thrusting up into you. Your eyes roll back and you throw your back.

"You look like a goddess," he murmurs. His thumb finds your clit, and he sits up to be closer to you. "Come for me." His calloused thumb rubs you firmly, and you cry out to him. "Yes, my love. Yes," he hisses.

Your fingers claw at his back and shoulders as he pumps into you. After a few more, he grunts loudly and groans your name. He rests his head on your breasts.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks, moving his head just enough to look up into your eyes.

You shake your head. "No, König." You try to move off him, but he grabs you tighter.

"Nein...no...stay a little longer. Please?"

"Of course." You run your fingers through his hair, and he sighs.

A little longer turns into the rest of the night and when you wake up beside him, he's already smiling at you.

"Good morning," he says. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Look beautiful even as you sleep. Most people are...not so graceful when they sleep," he says, and you laugh.

"Do you want me to go so you can...shower and everything?" you ask. You both look down at your half-dressed bodies and laugh again.

"You don't have to leave. I was hoping we could do that together." He takes your hand in his and laces his fingers with yours.

"A shower sounds nice," you say, squeezing his hand.

[Masterlist]

[marleyybluu]

Home Is Where His Heart Is

Oscar x black!OC

Summary: It's Spooky's first day back home, and he's not leaving the house any time soon.

word count: 1k

Warning(s): 18+ content, smut with little plot, a bit of fluff thrown in there, unprotected sex.

"Fuck, wait," 

A barely audible whimper rose from her lips, slightly swollen from all the nibbling he had done to them whenever they connected to his. He was greedy. He had waited years to feel her skin against his, to hear her desperate tone when she called out his name, begging for him to slow down or go faster, or go harder. Kimmy was etched into his brain from the minute he met her, she was a good person, an amazing girl to be around-- he often thought why she chose him. He didn't deserve her but he thanked God that she was still by him. 

"Spooky... oh!" 

He kissed her forehead, down her nose bridge and soon her lips-- a very brief kiss before he went down to her chin. He'd savour her taste, her smell. Her sweet scent, so intoxicating he could drown. Kimmy's hands rested on his back, her fingers slowly curling and nails digging into his skin, her legs wrapped around his waist desperately attempting to slow him down but failing miserably. "I can't cum again, please! Shit!" 

"Oh, baby, come on. One more time for me?" 

She shook her head. He stopped thrusting, he pulled her legs from their locked position and pressed down on the back of her thighs pushing her two limbs up to her shoulders. She held onto his forearms as he pulled back, all the way out, she breathed a sigh of relief and dropped her head on the mattress. Kimmy was tired, she was spent, and if she closed her eyes she'd fall asleep in seconds. Oscar smirked taking this opportunity to lean down and attach himself to her neck. 

She giggled feeling the bit of facial hair tickle her sweaty skin. Her eyes widened as she felt his wet, sticky tip teasing her hole. Her toes curled, she was trapped under his weight. His warm lips led up to her earlobe, gently kissing the earrings he had bought her while he was gone. "You have no idea how much I missed you." 

If it was one thing Oscar could do, it was sweet talk his way out of anything with her. She was his sucker though she hated to admit it. Don't get it twisted, the feelings were mutual, he would do anything for her. "I thought about you every day, I missed that face, that pretty smile, that voice... seeing that shit only once in a while was not cutting it." 

She was his home. And it was nice coming home after four years in that cold ass cell. Alone with those thoughts, small doubts about if she'd even wait for him, but the constant visits and phone calls proved she was still around for him. He carefully guided himself back inside her warmth, a bit more sensitive this time around, the two moaned in unison. "I fucking love you." He muttered, her lips parted attempting to return the words but they got caught up in her throat once he returned back to his sinister actions. The slow strokes, the sloppy kisses, the overall intimacy of it all-- she couldn't express how much she missed this. Her eyes fell to the back of her head once he was pressing against her spot, he knew her body way too well. 

Oscar continuously slammed into the same spot, not change of pace or direction, he was pulling their body's to the edge in the desperate chase to relieve her of her growing orgasm and his own. He cupped her face in his hand, his palm taking up a majority of her cheek. "You're so fucking pretty taking me like this." 

"Oscar- don't fucking stop!" 

He smirked at her plea, especially when she was begging him to stop not too long ago. She was becoming tighter, warmer and wetter. Her grip on him became loose, her back arched, "Fuuuuuck! Yeeeess!" 

Oscar chuckled breathlessly feeling every part of her body shake. She spilled onto him, he provided his last stroke, burying himself deep inside her filling her up with his seed until he was sure he was empty. Kimmy lazily giggled pressing her hand on his lower stomach. "Why are you trying to kill on your first day back home?"  

He dropped his head and laughed, he kissed her nose and pulled back out watching their combined pleasures ooze out of her tired, but very satisfied, hole. He got off the bed and made his way to the washroom to grab a clean rag and wet it down with warm water. He noticed on his way back that his girl was watching him with an amused face. "What?" He asked before wiping her down. "You don't change huh?" 

"Why would I change taking care of you?" 

The question made her blush, she felt like a lovestruck fool around him. She was shy all of a sudden. Once he was finished he returned to the washroom to wipe himself down, Kimmy snaked her way under the covers and involuntarily closed her eyes. Oscar flicked the lights off and crept into bed next to her, her eye popped open and a grin appeared on her face. It was good to have him back in their bed, where he belonged. 

He pulled her closer, she nuzzled against his chest, her nail running down his tattoo. "I could never spend another four hours, let alone another four years without you." Kimmy smiled against his skin, she wasn't sure she believed it-- she loved him but he had no idea how agonizing it is to watch the person you love taken away from you on more than one occasion, how many times she wanted to quit on him but her heart wouldn't let her. 

She could do the few months, maybe a year but four years had become too much for her. He noticed her lack of response. "I promise you, I'm not leaving you like that again." 

"Good." She mumbled. "You belong here, at home." 

It wasn't too long before she could hear his snores, a sound that annoyed her to the bitter end but was deeply missed in his absence. She kissed his chest whispering. "I love you." Her eyes closed once again, happy to finally be sleeping in his arms. 

if he's not Rio, Spooky or Fez, I ain't holdin' down no fucking body while they in jail. next thing yk I'm on love after lockup If you liked this fic feel free to like this fic. Reblogs and comments help and are appreciated. I have hella new followers so hello, hi thanks for joining the unorganized organization. Just a reminder I do see comments, I love them and appreciate them but Tumblr won't let me respond to them I don't know why but don't think that I'm one of those who don't love the little comments. I do. peace and love

tags: @skyesthebomb

[matriarchjojo]

⠀⠀  ⠀⠀⠀  ⠀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐎.

KOKONOI + BIMBO!READER ‧₊˚⊹

18+, chubby!reader, friends to fwb, oral, public sex, praise, rich ass reader and koko, mutual pining, fucked out koko, (kind of) inexperienced koko, softdom!reader + sub!kokonoi, use of 'good boy' and 'mistress', mentions of bdsm and pegging,

You and your bestie koko just went shopping together and were now on your way, driving home in a limo, and.. you suggest sucking his dick.

All chars are over 18 ⊹ reader's skin color is not mentioned ⊹ mdni

The two of you were just coming out of dior after buying some heels and earrings, right on your way to Koko's limo. The driver was already waiting for you two. "And after he talked all that shit i said 'with that outfit?'" He told you about some stories back when he was part of a gang, and you two laughed. "That's so like you!" You giggled. "I wish I would have been there, ugh.."

you said as you got into the back of the car with the nice golden lighting and expensive champagne. Koko watched you get in, and as you turned your head, his gaze was very obviously on your ass.

Once he noticed you looked at him, he quickly looked away, and you had a knowing grin on your face before sitting down on the seats.

"So..we're going home?" You asked, you already knew the answer. "Yes."

All you two did was get dressed nicely to go shopping and then just sit at Koko's huge nice couch and watch movies from 1990 to the 2000s. You would watch for hours.. until it was pitch black outside and koko either let you sleep there or he would drive you home.

"Oh, koko! Do you remember that guy I mentioned I liked?" Koko remembered. He hated him.

He pretended to be this cultured man who liked art, fancy music, and all that shit.. but koko knew exactly he was just trying to impress you. He hated those fucking men, "sadly i do.." no man you ever brought up was ever good enough for you in kokos opinion.

You rolled your eyes with a grin "anyways..he invited me to a party in some fancy villa," you explained, and koko sipped on the champagne, rolling his eyes "mhm.."

"I won't go."

He didn't expect you to say that..he expected you to go and let this limp dicked fucker fuck you and leave you unsatisfied. Like every guy you wrnt on a date with..

He would never ever say this but..he could definitely make you cum so hard you'd go blind

"Ohoho~" he purred all cocky "you'll just let that amazing man go, huh?" You laughed and softly hit his upper arm with the back of your hand."I just don't wanna hear him talk anymore! God!" Koko looked at you with the most cockiest grin."Are you saying that... I was right?" He fake gasped, and you bitterly grinned at him in return "no I'm not saying that." You said.

"It's just that I just wanna be with you today," koko couldn't help but feel his heart soften a little bit. "It's way more fun to be with my best friends than with some boring fuck boy" and just like that you let his heart down again. Of course, koko loved you as a friend. In fact, he would say he enjoyed being around you more than anyone else actually. But he couldn’t help but think about 'what if'

What if he kissed you?

What if he told you he'd treat you better than anyone else ever did?

What if he told you that he'd eat you out?

What if you two were more than friends?

But he's afraid that if he did all of the above, he would lose you. And he didn't wanna risk it. Even though the way you looked at him most of the time was more than a friendly look.

"Well, that sounds perfect because I was planning on the same thing," koko said as he took a sip of his champagne with raised eyebrows. You smiled at him and then looked away to bite your bottom lip.

That's it.

That's what he meant.

Now it was dead quiet again, and there was sexual tension, it was making the air in the limousine feel stuffy. So koko just side eyed you while looking you up and down, from your cleavage that he could see through your open white button down dior shirt and the VS black bra, down to your chubby tummy that was visible through your tight and long black Mugler pencil skirt to your soft and squishy thighs wrapped in nice black back seam tights. And those beautiful red bottom Louboutins, he actually bought them for you on your birthday.

You noticed koko watching you. He always thought you didn't notice, but you obviously did. Truth be told..

You wanted to be more than friends with him.

Especially since there was always a quiet pause between you two where you could feel the sexual tension. And you were afraid that if you didn't fuck at least once..you two could drive away from eachother..

And that stare was the last straw for you. You just had to turn to him. You got a little closer than normal and said a little. "Hey." Like you were asking something. And it obviously took koko off guard. "H-hey?" He asked, confused and flustered. You were bending your upper body a bit, giving him an even better view of your tits and the pretty bra. It was making him feel hot all of a sudden.

"Can I ask you something weird?" You whispered, still leaning over to him, so close that he could smell the alcohol on your tongue. "Sure, go ahead, I guess.." he responded, still confused and filled with anticipation, deep down he hoped that you would ask him to fuck you. "Okay.." you said, taking another sip of your drink before asking.

"Have you ever thought about me sucking you off?"

Koko's grip on his glass, and the leather seats tightened that he almost ripped a hole into the expensive fabric. He was quiet for a second, knowing his face looked like he was lacking oxygen. Because he was. He didn't notice he was holding in his breath until he decided to laugh it off out of nervousness he wasnt good with women or even men. He's just a little awkward when it comes to intimacy, even when he really, really wants it. Like right now. "What??"

But as he laughed and you just kept smiling at him with that 'fuck me' look in your eyes, his palms started to get sweaty. "You know what I asked. C'mon, " you said, clearly. You knew you didn't need to repeat it. "Have you?"

Koko didn't know if this was one of your weird teasing jokes..if he said the wrong thing he'd be fucked. Not in the way he wants to be anyway..

"Uhm.." he laughed again nervously. "Is this a joke?" He asked with a suspicious expression. He wanted to be sure.

You just quietly shook your head. "No, I'm just curious." You said with an unreadable smile. Koko hated when he couldn't tell what other people were thinking. Especially when he couldn't tell what you were thinking.

Koko swallowed and looked to the side nervously until your voice made him look at you again "then I'll tell you something first.."

"I thought about it." You said boldly.

That line definitely stopped kokos heart for a second. He started shaking and sweating.

Right after you said it, you closed the small window that let the driver see you two. Koko started breathing a little heavier. Are you actually trying to suck his dick??

"And?" You started, "What about you?"

Koko actually started to relax a bit hearing you confess. Having closure is all he needed to gain a little confidence. He felt your long nails trace his thigh over his dress pants, drawing dangerously close to his crotch.

He gulped and looked from his lap back up at you, being almost on his lap.

"Yeah.." he responded. "I did."

A smirk started stretching your pretty and lipgloss covered lips. "Want me to do it?" You asked, just above a whisper. Staring at koko like his dick was already between your lips.

Fuck he was sweating so much now, of course he wants it! But he just couldn't get any words out.

He coughed and nodded with closed eyes. "I need a verbal answer." You said, tracing your middle finger over the big golden chanel belt buckle. "S-sure—yes! Please.." he stuttered.

You smiled and kissed your best friend on the cheek, and he let out a frustrated and needy sigh. You've never seen koko being flustered. You only knew him being cocky, confident, and...cunty. so seeing him being so stuttery and nervous is refreshing.

Once you put your hand on his buckle, starting to unbuckle it while placing wet and sticky kisses on the sensitive skin of kokos neck. He surprisingly let out little moans and sighs.

The belt was open, and you unzipped his pants, wasting no time to slide your hand into his pants and boxers, immediately you found his hard cock. You gasped softly at the warmth, hardness, and most of all: lenght.

You never actually saw each other naked. Ever. He only saw you when you wanted to try on your new Victoria secret underwear, and that was also the only thing koko ever jerked off to. He never wanted to think of it, but his own mind betrayed him every time.

"Fuck—that feels..really fuckin' good.." he huffed, you barely even stroked him, but you weren't judging..you know he hadn't had a date since last year January when he met a cute guy at a party..and it was March now.

You continued stroking him as you pressed your tits against his chest. You looked up at Koko's face to see him already flushed a pretty deep pink. You wanted to kiss him until he couldn't even breathe properly. But you weren't sure if this was something he wanted as he could find kissing too romantic. "Wanna kiss?" Koko chuckled in response before just kissing you. It didn't even start of slow, because neither of you wanted that.

You just wanted to feel eachothers warmth. While kissing, you started pulling his pants now to his ankles, breaking the kiss in the process and lowering yourself along with the pants.

You put your hand on his chest to make him lean back into the leather seat while you kissed his bare thigh as his cock was right next to your face.

Finally seeing you like this was more than satisfying to koko, it was all he fucking wanted all this time. "You look so fuckin' beautiful.." you smiled but said nothing back, you just wanted his long and pretty cock in your throat.

As soon as you started kissing up his cock he tipped his head back "shit—oh my fucking.." he trailed off as he started moaning. His moans were pure music to your ears, and it just egged you on to suck the soul out of him.

You put your lips on the tip of his cock and he started twitching, "o-oh fuck—" he cursed again. You found it so cute how he already mindlessly babbled. You darted your tongue out and sucked the tip of his cock into your mouth with your tongue flat on the backside of his cock. You then slowly, slowly lowered your mouth on his cock until you reached his balls and his tip was in the back of your throat.

Koko felt like he was gonna faint, his hips stayed flexed, and an inch above the limo seat. His hand was in your hair involuntarily, he just needed to hold onto something or he would lose his fucking mind.

Then, all of a sudden you started to Bob your head up and down on his throbbing cock, making koko slap his hand infront of his mouth to cover up his loud and pathetic moans. But it was no use, and he knew it, but it was more so that the driver couldn't hear what a horny slut kokonoi Hajime was.

"Mhpff!—" he moaned against his hand. He had already started to drool against it. He was disgusting, but he felt good, free even. Giving you full control over him made him feel at ease, koko did have a busy life where he had to control everything, but having someone control him and his pleasure made him feel relaxed.

"Good boy.." you hummed before you started to stuff his long cock back into your throat. Kokos' eyes widened, and he scratched at the seat. At this point the didn't give a single fuck about the expensive leather because what you just called flipped a switch in his brain and he just moved his hand from his mouth, it was all shiny from his own spit

"m-may I—shit!.." he began. "may I call you mistress?" He asked, and suddenly you felt yourself getting to the point of being as horny as koko.. you truly did not expect this.. and you think neither would have koko.

You pulled off of his pulsing cock to look up at him and use your middlefinger to wipe away some if his precum from your lips. You would die to have him call you that, and you would kill to have him as your slut.

"You may.." you said with a sultry smile as you continued to jerk him off. "Tha-thank you.." then you squeezed his cock as a warning "who are you thanking?" You asked as you stopped jerking him off and just having a tight grip on him, before he could correct himself you got lower and started sucking one of his balls into your mouth. Making Koko's head fly back onto the seat rest and his eyes roll back. "I—" he struggled to catch his breath and choked on his spit for a second. "Thank you, mistress!"

"There we go.. Remember that for next time, " you said with a knowing smirk. Koko looked back at you, and you saw that he already had small tears in the corners of his eyes. He looked so cute..

Koko bit his bottom lip to stiffle his breathless moans. "Y-yes..Mistress," his mind went racing at the thought of a next time... God, he wanted you to do horrible things to him. He wanted to see you in a matching latex bra and thong set. He wanted you to tie and gag him. He wanted you to just fucking use him. Peg him! Ride his face 'til he can't breathe! He will fucking beg for it! The once reserved and cocky koko was now nothing more than a desperate slut.

As you continued to suck on his cock your other hand went up to feel up his chest to then reach his lips, koko immediately just started sucking on them as if it was in his DNA to obey you.

Koko grabbed your hand and swirled his tongue around your digits as your head kept bobbing up and down, koko pressed his hips up from the seat, and his eyes rolled back behind his closed eyes as he started sucking your fingers more desperately.

The feeling of him throbbing and twitching in your throat while his wet and warm tongue swirled around your manicured fingers made you so wet, you knew that your tights were also soaked through. You've never felt as horny as you did in the very moment. The rush of sucking your friends dick in a moving vehicle, not knowing if the driver can hear you. and the fact that koko would literally whore himself out for you,

"M-mhh!—" he moaned loudly around your fingers. He was about to cum..and youwere going to swallow every single drop.

Koko shivered and thrashed around. His grip on your hand tightened as his hips started to rit back into your throat. You hollowed your cheeks, and koko suddenly came with choked and loud moans. With every moan, he started to relax more and more.

The bitter and salty cum shot into your mouth and you moaned at the taste of his hot cum, it drove you wild..

Koko sighed one last time, and you took your fingers out of his mouth. He looked down at you, hair messy, lip makeup smeared with spit and cum.

His mind was so clouded by lust and the after shock of a life changing orgasm that he didn't realize where his cum was. Until he heard a gulp, and you licked your lips. "fuck—did you just..swallow it?.." he asked and you just got up to lay your chest on his and he winced a bit at his cock meeting your skirt.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and your kissed him, his tongue swirled around yours and he sighed at the taste of champagne and his cum.

You then looked at him with a soft smile. "You did good.." You kissed him again. "Y-you did good..you did really good.." koko complimented you back.

After a few seconds of just staring after each other, koko asked "so..you said next time.."

You grinned and picked out a long, pretty strand of his hair to swirl it around your finger. "Yeah, I did.. Would you like that?" Koko blinked away some of the remaining tears and nodded "yeah..sure.."

"Then how about you return the favor while we watch movies?" Koko's eyes widened assist cock twitched slightly against you, it's crazy how he's still hard..this never happened before. "Y-yeah,I'd love to," you jokingly hit him on his arm. "Don't go soft on me now. On the way home, we'll still only be besties, alright?" You said while sitting up and wiping your skirt and face clean with some tissues you had in your black dior purse, you handed some to koko and as he wiped his cock clean, you took a tissue and wiped his face clean.

It took him by surprise. He looked up at you, and you smiled. "You still have so much spit and lipgloss on your face, hun"

After you two were done wiping everything, you straightened your clothes out, and you sat back down next to him. If you didn't know that, you just sucked the soul out of his dick. It would look like you two were just friends.

But then you put your hand on his thigh,

You two knew his couch would need to be replaced after fucking it up with multiple cum, sweat and saliva stains.

[redheadspark]

For your August prompts:

14. Watching TV & movies together.....I wanna watch TV with Druig that'd be fun!!!! 😆

A/N - STELLA! Thanks for requesting this, I loved writing this! its short but cute!

Sunday Nights

Summary - It was tradition: Sunday Nights are for the trashy shows

Warnings - Just fluff

“Are you ready yet?”

“Patience is a virtue,”

“Not when it comes to our reality show nights!”

Druig grabbed the remote control from the coffee table, turning the TV on as you were finishing the last of the popcorn that was freshly popped.  The aroma of popcorn was filling the small and cramped kitchen while you poured out the bag into a massive bowl, knowing that you had other pop two bags instead of one.  It was something you learned early on in your relationship with Druig when you two got together: Druig was a snacker.

He especially loved snacking while watching reality TV.

That was a shocker to you when you two met some time ago, Druig always seemed to have his nose in a book or digesting what was going on in the newspaper.  He would rather curl up in a book than go out to parties that his roommate Kingo would throw, which was fair since most of those parties were pretty rowdy.  That’s how to met him in the first place: trying to find the bathroom and accidentally walking into his room where he was perched on his bed reading Frankenstein by Mary Shelley.

You ended up staying in his room and chatting about literature for three hours, and the rest of history.

Two years later, you both found a decent apartment that was close to his work at the University and it was perfect.  The views of the city, the walking distance to several restaurants and a few parks, even some of the neighbors that were on your floor were great.  The first night you two finally moved into your new shared home, you popped in a movie a brought out a new snacks for you two to share between.

Druig ended up eating most of the snacks without realizing it, which was quite amusing.

To his defense, Druig loved watching the Tracy reality TV shows that were everywhere, both on cable and streaming. It shocked you, a hobby that never really fitted his personality and lifestyles.  When you asked him about it once morning during breakfast, he simply shrugged.

“It’s a good way to turn my brain off for an hour or two,” he replied, you realizing that it was his own way other than decompressing.  He loved his job, though it would be very stressful at times.  He also was still iffy with his adoptive brother Ikaris, they would butt heads from time to time and it brought him down a bit.  You hated seeing him in those hard moments, it wasn’t like him at all.  

You made it a tradition then: Sunday nights were for there reality shows

“Here we are,” You said, walking into the living room and seeing your TV qeued up and Druig looking at you with a grin on his face.  You showed him the big bowl, popcorn was about to overflow as you made it to the couch and place it in his lap.

“Thanks, babe,” he replied, pecking your cheek as he the gestured to the TV screen, “This episode is supposed to be a cliffhanger,”

“Since when do you indulge the spoilers?” You asked in a teasing manner, seeing him grab some popcorn to pop in his mouth.

“I don’t, but one of my co workers told me on my lunch,” He explained as you ate some popcorn as well, “She knows I hate getting that kind of info, so I know she did that to pull my leg so to speak,”

“How nice of her,” You joked as he poked your side.  As he wrapped and arm around you to tuck you in his shoulder, you breathed in the cologne that he was wearing and the small hint of sweat that still lingered since he went to the gym earlier that day.  You both looked forward to this time together at the very end of the week before your work week would start up again.  Both of your schedules were full time, making it hard to enjoy some quality time together at the end of the day.  Hanging out with mutual friends or going out with co workers, attending family events, they were fun but also draining simultaneously.  

So having this small moment with Druig, it was more than enough. 

You phone lit up, showing a message on the screen,  You reached over to grab it from the coffee table, reading the message and then chuckling, “Makkari is going to rooftop party tonight and wants us to come,” 

“Sounds like fun,” Druig replied, then looking over at him and see him eye him with a smirk on his face, “This is better though,”

You laugh, typing the quick rejection to the invitation as he stared the show and you placed the phone to the side.  

The End

August Prompt Session

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Hi, Ange. I know you probably don't want to talk about this subject anymore, but is the screenshot you talk about about Brazilian fans true? I wanted to know because I didn't see any clarification in any other post and as a Brazilian who likes your stories I was hurt. If you don't want to answer that's fine, I just wanted to clarify this once in for all but you obviously don't own me anything

Hi, love.

No, it is not. There’s a very helpful post created by Hagi here regarding the reliability of most of those “screenshots”.

I have never spoken badly about Brazilians. The screenshot that is real in that post is the one where I mentioned that Mari (a mutual at the time) had unfollowed me around the time that I received an anonymous ask telling me to die in my sleep. When I checked my IP tracker, I had had a Brazilian IP address visit my asks, so I expressed my disappointment at this. Never once did I make derogatory remarks with regards to nationality. I never would.

I was confused as to why this would happen, until months later during “bimbogate” I saw people making mention that they had considered my actions around the time of the announcement of Ewan’s appearance at CCXP to be racist. I was still puzzled by this, as I don’t think I had posted anything that could be considered racist. I refused to believe Ewan would be attending until I’d seen official confirmation, and I noncommittally answered an ask from an anon expressing their concerns over fan behaviour. But the ask and unfollow suddenly made sense. That’s all of it.

I am genuinely sorry that you have been made to feel like I have prejudice against you. Regardless of the untruth, that can’t be nice to see and I hate that for you. I hope that my response goes some way in easing your mind.