#passions overpowering reason

[reecedarlene]

Imagine

I imagine small moments with you

Lingering touches no one else notices

Sly glances no one else sees

Inside jokes no one else interprets

Imagine me standing just a little too close to you

But you don’t move away so I stay still

Imagine our hands colliding

And hesitating before letting go

Imagine legs pressed against one another

Under the guise of not enough room

Imagine shared song lyrics as secret notes

Moments between us no one else knows

Imagine each of us hoping for a message

Searching for reasons to reach out

Imagine you craving the contact

Me smiling at the thought of your satisfaction

Imagine the timbre of your voice buzzing through me

Me enraptured by the rhythm of your words

Imagine your light being the only thing I can see

To pull me out of this darkness I’ve been coasting in

Imagine you knowing exactly what I mean, how I feel

You giving me the courage the grow and the strength to do what I must

Imagine these tiny flickers of affection

Becoming all consuming flames devouring our senses

Imagine our passions overpowering our reason

We’ll have ask forgiveness since we never asked for permission

Imagine this being reality instead of a fantasy

Growing inside the part of me I thought had been snuffed out

I imagine small moments with you

Can you imagine?

[kizzer55555]

Dan is not a hero, so will the Justice league PLEASE leave him alone?!

When Dan was born, he isn’t just Danny. He’s also half Vlad, which means when he was created their obsessions combined. Danny’s obsession is protection but Vlad’s obsession is family. A ghost’s obsession develops based on how the ghost acts after they are born, what they latch onto, what they like. It usually takes a few weeks to fully form which is why ghosts can have such different obsessions. Danny’s obsession became protection due to his constant actions of protecting people. Vlad’s obsession became to create a family as that is all he thought about during his hospital visits. To make a family with Maddie. Dani even developed her obsession with freedom after she went out exploring. And once an obsession is created, it cements the ghost’s instincts to follow it. That this is what the ghost must continue doing to survive. To get stronger.

But Dan didn’t have that time. He was combined with two ghosts that already had fully formed obsessions, and so those obsessions merged with each other. Dan’s obsession is to protect his family, but by the time it formed, his family was already gone. And that…really messes with a ghost.

Vlad thought that Dan had gone evil because of his evil ghost side. But in reality, it was due to the loss of an obsession. In his initial madness upon formation, he ended up killing Danny. The only person he might have considered family. As for Vlad, the fruitloop hated himself so much that even if part of his ghost, part of his soul, was within Dan, it wouldn’t recognize him as family. And Danny’s ghost half certainly wouldn’t. And when a ghost looses their obsession, they go mad.

All Dan had left, was his own life. He wasn’t truly an older version of Danny. He was something new created from half of two souls. He had parts of both Vlad and Danny. Where Danny was stubborn, Vlad was cunning. Where Danny might feel uncomfortable with social interaction with his peers, Vlad would put on a mask or try to seem more threatening when stressed. He had fragments of their memories but none of the emotional attachment unless it was connected to his obsession. So when a younger him came to his future timeline, all Dan focused on was making sure he would still be created.

And then he lost.

But loosing wasn’t the end. He eventually managed to be free of his cage and sent through therapy (Likely curtesy of Jazz who felt it wrong to keep him trapped forever). And Dan was forced to go through therapy until he eventually got to the point where ok…fine he won’t kill anyone (as long as they don’t attack him first). It also helped that his obsession madness was wearing off. Now that he had his family again, and they were safe, it eased off a bit of the pressure, allowing him to think again.

But now he didn’t know what to do. For the first time in a while, Dan was free. But it wasn’t like he could indulge his obsession. Maddie and Jack hated ghosts and since he’s technically made of two ghost halves, he wasn’t a halfa and couldn’t take a human form or just walk up to them. Moreover, he wasn’t Danny or Vlad so could he truly consider them family?

That’s when he started interacting with Phantom. It was small at first, just checkups to see how his therapy was going or Dan even sneaking into Fenton works to watch what was happening because she was bored. Eventually, they got a bit closer and developed a sibling like relationship (if Dan was a prickly older brother who refused to show he cared) and his obsession latched onto Danny. For a while, Dan was in denial of this. The kid a twerp, only half the power he was (ignoring the fact that the kid beat him) and full of human emotion and teenage drama. So Dan tried to limit his visits. Only coming every month or so. The other time kinda wandering the zone and getting into fights.

And then one day he came to visits only to see a scene from his nightmares.

(Warning for gore)

It was dead quite, the lab covered in green blood, various organs preserved on jars or just lying on the surrounding lab tables. Scalpels, syringes, and other tools dripping green. And on the center of the lab, strapped to a table, was a small blue orb.

Dan knew what a core looked like. He had ripped out enough in his previous timeline to know that they should not be that dim. That they should not have cracks running down their surface, and that they absolutely should not have chunks gouged out of their sides. It barely looked like an orb anymore but there, Dan could faintly feel the energy of a young ghost. And he knew exactly who this core belonged to.

So Dan did the only think he could think of. He took his little brother’s core and ran.

Dan had no idea how to heal a broken core, and Danny’s core (his soul) felt room temperature which couldn’t mean anything good for an ice core. It was also severely lacking in ectoplasm (Dan refused to think of all the green splattered across the lab. This was also the day he decided that NO, the Fentons would not be considered family).

A normal core would have melted down into goop by now with all the damage it sustained. It was likely only still ‘alive’ due to Danny’s halfas status. There was no known cure or medical procedure for this. The only thing Dan could do was place the core within himself, nestled right next to his own core in an attempt to absorb his access ectoplasm and get stronger. But that wouldn’t be enough. A ghost needed to fulfil their obsession to get stronger. But Danny was unable to protect anyone in his current state. Which meant there was only one option. Dan would have to act like a host and fulfil the obsession for him. Which meant Dan would have to feed his brother….by…saving people…

Oh joy….

And thus begins Dan’s various attempts of heroism against his will. He is incredibly efficient and powerful but he looks like he hates every moment of it and might even be scowling at the people he saved. Moreover, he can’t even kill anyone! Killing is the opposite of protecting and wouldn’t help his brother heal so he has to restrain himself. (And when he attempts to smile, it looks so forced and with such sharp teeth that people become even more scared). The justice league have no idea what to do with this unknown.

He’s not a villain (they don’t think?). Just some overpowered guy who is saving a bunch of people (and even the heroes themselves) but has the prickliest personality you can imagine. Dan is not a people person. Add onto that him trying to escape Vlad’s attempts to ‘help’ (he doesn’t trust that fruitloop as far as he can throw him). And resisting going anywhere near the Fentons. As much as he wants to seek vengeance against them for what they did, he doesn’t want them near Danny and there is nothing that could make him drop his brother’s core somewhere else. It’s safest with him. The Fentons haven’t even realized Danny is missing. So this is basically just Dan forced to be a hero and he hates every second of it (but would do anything to protect his baby brother). And Dan maybe sort of befriending rogues and heroes (or them trying very hard to befriend him).

He is a loner. He does not like company, and he is incredibly self conscious when powerful people get near him and his precious cargo.

One day, they might realize Dan doesn’t enjoy being a hero or even really care about the people he saves (despite his meticulousness when it comes to getting everyone out alive). And if they ask, he could say he saves people because he’s selfish which just makes them more confused (or he says he has his own reasons).

Dan basically acts like a wet stray cat around everyone. (A cat with a kitten). He won’t attack them, but he will make it very clear that he does not like them (despite saving their lives multiple times) and he will not respond to their affections. It’s his fault the Justice league misunderstand his actions. He’s only doing it to heal his brother (not that he will ever tell them) but now the Justice league just think he’s a tsundere. Trying to hide that he cares.

No, Dan literally could not care less. Seriously, please leave him alone.

Later, much later, something happens where Dan takes a hit that affects his core/ectoplasm and he freaks out. The Justice league might not understand why until he takes out a second core and checks it over like a mother hen, hissing and snarling at anyone who gets close. This core is unlike anything the magic users have ever seen. They know what a core is, they know it’s a soul. To see one so damaged, it’s nauseating. (Dan is either freaking out for nothing or is actively trying to save the core that was dying in his hands and has to trust his magic user teammates/sort-of-maybe-but-not-yet friends to save him).

When everything is over, they ask who the core belongs to. It has to be someone Dan cares about. Ghosts don’t normally protect or try to care for other cores (it’s usually survival of the fittest) and Dan didn’t seem like the caring type. So they ask despite Dan trying to ignore their questions or brush them off. Eventually, he caves and drops the bombshell that it’s his little brother (and either admits it was their parents who did this to him or just the ‘Fenton’ scientists) and that he became a hero to try and replenish his brother’s strength since he’s a spirit of protection. He explains about cores and obsessions. How his brother’s obsession is protection and his obsession is to keep his family safe.

The Justice league’s hearts break.

Also, Ellie is in this and also has a sibling like relationship with Danny although is a bit distant with Dan (since they remind each other too much of Vlad to be comfortable) and they work together to try and bring Danny back and care for him. Ellie knows how to make ecto dejecto and tries to bring some. Also, in this au, Danny isn’t the ghost king. He’s just a normal ghost. So Dan will fight other ghosts to keep him safe.

Would it be funny if Ellie basically treats Dan as if he’s fragile? Like, she knows Dan is carrying Danny’s core so she’s like “why don’t you lay down?” “Are you eating alright?” “Be careful in that fight!” But at the same time, she’s constantly getting on his nerves and doing everything in her power to annoy him or just doesn’t seem interested in his life. The Justice league are very confused by their interactions. Especially when they see Dan take on an entire army single handedly. Dan hates the hovering even though he understands why she does it. (And when the Justice league realize Dan is carrying his brother’s core they might hover too.)

[athousandbyeol]

i think i've read somewhere that intelligent people are freakier...in bed...... (this might be right or/and wrong. i don't think i've ever come across a scientific study of this particular claim. therefore, please take this with heaping spoonfuls of salt.)

......but i kept thinking of jiang tian and sheng wang in the novel and wow. i think it's somewhat true.

[hanasnx]

“ I WAS MADE FOR LOVIN’ YOU ” — logan howlett.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem reader ノ age gap ノ established relationship ノ size difference ノ suggestive content ノ sexual content: naughty daydreams about pussy eating, nipple play, and groping; masturbation; voyeurism.

“I’m gonna take care of you.” Those six words—six—have defined your relationship with your husband, LOGAN HOWLETT. There’s a great protector in him, this compulsion to mentor and house within him that stretches far beyond his own needs. You fall within that range, and as soon as you met him you latched onto him. It didn’t take long at all before your imprint was reciprocated. Now he thinks of you first in everything he does.

He may not always look it, but you’re a factor in all his decisions. Settling down, nabbing a good job—one that didn’t ask for his background—was all to put you up in a house in the mountains. Far away from civilization, an ivory tower made up of wood he cut himself, surrounded by acres of nature. He’s always thought of himself a hair on the wild side, somehow you tame that down. It’s good, he tells himself, you and him.

It’s a partnership, and all he wants out of you is your safety. He likes you where he can keep an eye on you, make sure you stay out of trouble, make sure you’re comfortable.

You wish you could explain just why he thinks he has to protect you, why he married you, why he pays all the bills and expects nothing in return. You wish you could explain just why this relationship comprises all facets of a real marriage except for intimacy.

Logan won’t touch you. You’ll eat off each other’s utensils, fall asleep on his chest on the couch watching a movie—hell, he’ll reluctantly incline in your direction with a roll of his eyes to let you peck his cheek good-bye when he leaves for work. Yet, he won’t even kiss you. Even before he married you, there wasn’t so much as a grope or a stray look.

There’s home in Logan. You live to please him. You’ll cook him whatever he wants, keep the house he built for you clean as a whistle, you’ll spend all your free time with him, grab him his nightly beer and light his cigar so he stays content—but you’ve never even seen him naked. You doubt you ever will. Regardless, you stay, you can’t imagine leaving this life, leaving him.

It’s defied your expectations the fairy-tales of your childhood gave you. Your knight in shining armor rescued you, yet refuses to plant even true love’s kiss. When you’d matured, you’d fantasized about an insatiable husband that found you so irresistible he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Logan’s never looked at you that way, even though he calls you his wife without hesitation, married you without a second thought.

“Is it because I’m younger than you? I’m only in my early twenties. That’s not a big deal!” you’ve reasoned with him, but he still treats you like you’re naive. He must want passion, you’re sure of that. Why else are you young and beautiful if not to take advantage of it while you still can? Just once you’d like to see him yearn for you, to show lack of restraint, to come home one day so hungry for you that you don’t make it out of the kitchen.

Those claws… those deadly metal claws… you wish he’d use them in fantastical and deviant ways. Just one would glide through your nighty like sheet paper, bareing you to your husband—a sight for him only. You lie awake next to him at night, envisioning raunchy dreams of him proudly boasting the size difference between you two, demonstrating his sheer raw strength by overpowering you and taking what he wants from you. You’ve run your fingers delicately over his lips and the rough pad of his shaved chin, but you can’t imagine just how good it’d feel against your tit, swirling his hot tongue around your perked nipple while his callused digits pinch the other. You can pretend his head is ducking between your thighs, the sensation of his soft hair tickling your skin and tangling in your fingers as his masculine jaw scratches the fragile tissue of your pussy. As starved as you are, even discomfort like that is enough to make you moan into your palm, only to check over your shoulder to make sure you still hear your husband’s snoring.

You steel yourself at the noise, the low rumbling of his sleep cautions you to stay quiet but to proceed nonetheless. Your hand creeps down your neck, your chest, your stomach… You really should leave the room, but you’d risk waking him up for real at the sound of the door. Instead, you fuck yourself yet again, the soft rocking of the mattress as you hump your own hand filling the ears of your kindhearted husband—who’s been awake this whole time.

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝙼𝚎 𝙰 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛

⤷ Credits: Pinterest

Marcus Acacius x F!reader | WC : 2.1k | Proof read : NO

Summary : The night before a battle, General Acacius has something to tell the blacksmith's daughter.

Warnings: SMUT, LOSS OF VIRGINITY, unprotected pinv (wrap it before you tap it), masturbation F and M, implied age gap, scars, breeding kink

A/n : I wrote this in like an hour so...enjoy my horny Roman general smut with a touch of lovely dovey bc ovulation, Also I'm very dyslexic lol

The needs of any general are important, and yet your father handles the most critical element of all: crafting the armor and swords meant for battle. Among all your father's customers, General Acacius was your favorite. Alluring and tempting, he was a force of nature, and he knew it. He almost never lost a fight. If your father knew about your infatuation, he might just muster the strength to overpower the general himself.

But that didn't stop the glances. You dreamed and prayed to the goddess Venus that he would take you as his wife or even a whore.

You helped your father polish the swords and armor for the men. This week, another battle of the gladiators loomed on the horizon. It was late, the night sky high above as you rubbed polish along a chest plate. The sound of an approaching horse made you stand tall. It was a single horse, a white steed adorned with armor you knew all too well. It galloped up to where you were, at the part of the blacksmith's forge that was outside. The firelight illuminated his face as he spoke.

"Evening, fair one," General Acacius said, his voice as smooth and commanding as ever. He dismounted, his gaze never leaving you. "Is your father about?"

You shook your head, your heart pounding in your chest. "He has retired for the night, General."

Acacius stepped closer, the flickering flames casting shadows on his chiseled features. "Then it is fortunate that I find you here. I have something important to discuss."

You swallowed hard, the anticipation building within you. "What is it, General?"

He looked down, his expression softening. "Tomorrow, I march into battle. A battle that carries great risk. And I cannot go without first telling you what is in my heart."

Your breath caught in your throat. "General, I—"

He raised a hand, silencing you gently. "No titles now, please. Call me Marcus."

"Marcus," you whispered, the name feeling strange and intimate on your lips.

He stepped even closer, so close you could feel the warmth of his body, smell the faint scent of leather and steel. "For too long, I have admired you from afar. Your beauty, your spirit, your kindness. You have captured my heart, and I can no longer keep it hidden."

You felt your cheeks flush, a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming emotion flooding through you. "Marcus, I... I never thought..."

"I know," he interrupted softly. "And I do not ask for an answer now. I only ask that you know the truth. Should I fall in battle tomorrow, I want you to know that I love you. With all that I am, I love you."

Tears welled in your eyes as you reached out to touch his hand. "Marcus, please come back to me."

He brought your hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly. "I will fight with all my strength, for you give me reason to survive. But if fate decrees otherwise, remember my words and hold them close."

As he turned to leave, you called out to him, your voice trembling. "Marcus, I love you too."

He paused, looking back at you with a fierce determination in his eyes. "Then I shall return. For nothing, not even the gods themselves, can keep me from you."

Marcus closed the distance between you, his eyes darkening with an intensity that made your heart race. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek before pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. His lips were firm and demanding, yet tender as if savoring every moment. You melted into his embrace, the world around you fading into nothingness.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes were ablaze with desire. "Come with me," he whispered, his voice husky and commanding. "We do not have much time."

Without waiting for a response, he took your hand and led you away from the forge, his grip strong and unwavering. You followed him through the shadows, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on the path ahead. The air was thick with anticipation and the promise of what was to come.

He guided you to the far side of the property, where the cattle were kept. The soft sounds of the animals settling for the night filled the air, creating a backdrop of calm amid the storm of your emotions. Marcus led you into a small, secluded barn, the scent of hay and earth surrounding you.

Inside, the dim light revealed a space both intimate and hidden from prying eyes. Marcus turned to you, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. "I have waited too long for this moment," he said, his voice low and fervent. "I need you, here and now."

You nodded, your own desire mirroring his. "Then take me, Marcus. I am yours."

He pulled you into a passionate kiss, his lips firm and demanding. His hands slipped under the shoulders of your gown, letting the fabric dip. You gasped, the cool night air grazing your exposed skin. He looked at you intently, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Have you been taken?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

"I'm no stranger to my own touch," you admitted, feeling small and vulnerable under his gaze, "but to a man?" You shook your head, your heart pounding.

A flicker of something dark and primal flashed in his eyes. He pulled your dress down the rest of the way, letting it fall into the hay scattered across the barn floor. You instinctively moved to cover yourself, but he was quicker. His hands were on your sides, warm and possessive. He kissed you once more, his hands moving upwards, palming your breasts as he began to kiss your neck. You gasped, planting your hands against his armor.

"Marcus," you breathed.

He stopped kissing you and gently patted your shoulder, a silent command to lie down in the hay. The loud clang of his armor hitting the ground sent a jolt of excitement through you. He stripped off his underclothes, revealing himself to you. Immediately, you jumped to your knees, meeting him on the ground. You looked at his body in shock and awe, the scars scattered across his muscular frame telling stories of battles fought and won.

Worry etched your brow as you reached out to trace the outline of his muscles and scars, getting lost in the feeling of his skin under your fingertips. He lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"They're healed," he murmured, his voice tender. "I feel no pain."

 He caressed your cheek with his thumb before pulling you in for another kiss, cradling your head as he laid you back down. “Touch yourself,” he commanded softly, his eyes dark and hungry.

Your eyes widened at his request, but the slight smile on his lips and the warmth in his eyes gave you the courage to comply. You brought one hand to your clit, using slow circles to work yourself up, while the other hand roamed your body, seeking out the places that felt the best. You closed your eyes, small moans escaping your lips.

You frowned slightly, still concerned, but he caressed your cheek with his thumb before pulling you in for another kiss. He cradled your head as he laid you back down. "Touch yourself," he whispered, his voice a seductive command.

Your eyes widened at the suggestion. "Go on," he almost chuckled at the slight shyness you showed.

With trembling hands, you took one to your clit, using slow circles to work yourself up. Your other hand grasped your breast before roaming your body, seeking out whatever felt good in the moment. You closed your eyes, letting small moans escape your lips. You brought your hand that had been circling your clit to your mouth, opening your eyes to see what Marcus was doing.

He watched you with a hunger that made your pulse quicken. As you started sucking on two of your fingers, he stroked his length at the same speed, thick and overwhelming. Precum lined his cock, glistening in the dim light. You let your fingers out of your mouth with a pop, and he growled a low, primal sound. You spread your legs further, looking him dead in the eyes as you inserted two fingers into your wet cunt, thrusting them slowly while maintaining eye contact. Soft moans spilled from your lips, your back arching.

Marcus cracked, stopping your hand with a firm grip. You whined at the sudden stop of pleasure, but he pulled your hand from your cunt and sucked at the slick-covered fingers, savoring every bit. He released your hand with a pop, then spit into his own before rubbing it onto his cock. He leaned down, kissing your neck to distract you from any discomfort.

He rubbed his dick along your folds before pushing into you slowly. The action made you claw at his back and let out a yelp. You'd managed to put three fingers in your cunt at one point, but nothing compared to the size and mass of Marcus Acacius.

"Shh, shh, the pain will end soon," he whispered, kissing your forehead. He began to thrust into you slowly, being careful not to cause more pain. Eventually, the discomfort faded, replaced by a growing pleasure. You began to moan, and Marcus groaned, planting a hand on your hip while the other wandered up and down your body.

He bit his lip, a bead of sweat forming along his forehead, his curls sticking to his skin. His strokes became more forceful, and you started to moan louder, feeling yourself nearing the edge.

"M-more, General," you gasped for air before continuing, "more."

He growled in response, speeding up. His free hand moved to rub your clit, his thrusts harder and faster. The hay scratched at your skin, but you didn't care. Your hands gripped his forearms as you felt your pussy start to clench down on his cock. Your orgasm crashed over you with a loud moan, and Marcus continued thrusting, fucking you through your climax with sloppy, erratic movements.

With a deep moan, he spilled his hot seed inside you, filling you completely. He kissed you passionately before pulling out and collapsing beside you in the hay. You lay there together, bodies entwined, the afterglow of your shared pleasure enveloping you. The cool night air mixed with the warmth of your bodies, creating a cocoon of intimacy that made the world outside seem distant and unimportant.

Marcus turned to you, his breath still heavy, his eyes softening as they met yours. "I will return," he said, his voice a blend of steel and tenderness. "I will win this battle, and when I do, I will make you my bride."

You felt a surge of emotions, hope, and love intertwining with the remnants of your passion. "Marcus, you must be careful," you whispered, your fingers tracing the lines of his strong jaw. "I couldn't bear to lose you."

He took your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm, then your wrist, before bringing it to rest over his heart. "With you in my thoughts, I am invincible," he declared. "Every sword I raise, every enemy I face, it will be for you. The gods themselves could not keep me from your side."

You gazed into his eyes, feeling the weight of his promise settle deep within your soul. "And I will be here, waiting for you," you vowed, your voice trembling with emotion. "My heart, my body, they are yours."

He smiled a rare and beautiful thing that made your heart skip a beat. "Then it is settled," he said, his tone resolute. "I will fight with all my might, knowing that my bride awaits me."

He shifted, rising from the hay with the grace and power of the warrior he was. You watched as he dressed, every movement deliberate and filled with purpose. The sight of his scars, his muscles, the very essence of his strength, only made you more certain of the love you felt for him.

Once fully dressed, he turned back to you, offering a hand to help you rise. You took it, feeling the roughness of his skin, the strength of his grip. He pulled you close, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both a promise and a farewell.

"I will return to you," he whispered against your lips, his breath warm and reassuring.

"And I will be waiting," you replied, your voice filled with a mixture of longing and certainty.

With one final, lingering kiss, he stepped away, mounting his white steed with the same grace and power that had always captivated you. As he rode off into the night, you watched him go, your heart swelling with pride and love.

The barn seemed empty without him, the silence heavy with the weight of his absence. But as you gathered your gown and dressed, you felt a new sense of purpose. You would prepare for his return, ready to welcome him back as your victor and your husband.

[beneathashadytree]

ROCK THE BOAT - ZAYNE LI X READER

Warnings : sex, slight possessiveness, nipple play, implied overstimulation of himself, Zayne is pretty much drunk on sex, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : filthy smut but they’re SO in love I promise <3

Word count : 0.9K words

Additional notes : I got Zayne’s new card in the first 10 pulls, and suddenly all I could think of was Zayne fucking me freaky style in the early morning🫶🏽 This is inspired by Aaliyah’s song, Rock the Boat!

Tip jar!

Masterlist

“Mmm… slow down… Zayne,” they cried out in his lap, hands desperately seeking purchase on his shoulders, as he gasped out a shuddering breath.

Hazel eyes were glazed over, the pupils nearly completely overtaking them. He couldn’t see straight; couldn’t think straight, and couldn’t get past the haze of a lust so overpowering that it knocked all breath from his lungs. A dizzying surge of passion churned inside him, and he couldn’t help pulling them closer by the small of their back, almost scrambling to drag them higher on his lap. “I-I can’t. Can’t… stop. Sorry, I—Fuck, I need more.”

“You have me. Shit, ‘m all yours,” they whimpered out, swallowing thickly as their fingers dug into his flushed skin, the sharpness of their nails contrasting against their plush warmth and somehow bringing him even closer to that edge he yearned for now.

Zayne’s mind was swarmed with the flashing images of the sheer temptation ontop of him. So much so, he couldn’t say anything coherent, save for harsh whispers of their name tinged with desperation he would’ve failed to conceal—though his back arching to meld their bodies into one, and his fingers almost bruising against the fat of their hips, gave his needs away. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from everything about them.

The glistening skin of their chest pressed up right against his nose to breathe in their sweat-tinged scent; his cock disappearing inside them with every frenzied thrust upwards; seeing the thick ring of their combined arousal at the base of his cock everytime they raised their hips off of his… he couldn’t help the staggering moan that escaped him. “Close. You have to…” His eyes blew even wider open, an almost-crazed glint to them as their walls fluttered around his length, knowing just what he needed without him verbalizing it.

Throwing his head back as the euphoric feeling burned his skin, he could only muster a squeeze of their hips before he began sloppily fucking up into them. Like he would die if they pulled away; if their breathtaking teary eyes looked away from his. They almost began to squeeze them shut, and with just one whisper of his name in that sweet voice of theirs, he found himself burying his face into their chest again, all reason thrown out the window.

No control whatsoever remained, and his teeth grazed against their skin, tongue slowly laving at the dewdrops it caught. Zayne’s lips chased a trail only he could see, one that he’d memorized in every night he spent aching for them. He sucked blooming red marks onto their chest, marking them up as his cock pistoned in and out of them like he couldn’t bear to even pull out halfway.

Another dulcet moan left their parted lips, broken with the force of his thrusts that they tried so helplessly to meet. “You—!” A keen broke off that thought as his lips finally wrapped around their nipple, sucking with a fervor he never even knew he could possess. It was like some sort of fever had washed over him, drained him of any rationality he used to pride himself on.

But what use was rationality in the sheer intensity of a want like his? How could he even have any, when their nails almost broke the skin of his shoulders and their tight walls took inch after throbbing inch? When he was rolling their sweet bud between his teeth and moaning around them?

Their taste robbed him of his sense, and stripped him of all propriety he could’ve feigned. There was no going back after feeling their softness on his lips, knowing that he’d be the only one to ever feel their incomparable warmth like this; the one person who’d feel them clenching around his cock; the one person to hear their stuttered curses with every move he made inside them.

“Gonna cum,” they cried, a teardrop dripping down their cheek, “Mmm, fuck, Zayne, harder!” And there it was, their true desire slipping past their babbled words and pleas for more. His eyes trained on their angelic face, the intensity of his gaze pinning them down in a whirlpool of shared pleasure, mouth still worshipping their nipples with the attention they so desperately needed.

He was watching every flutter of their eyelashes as their hips ground into his, their body giving a small jerk in his firm grasp when a particularly harsh thrust tipped them over the edge and had them making a mess of him. And just feeling them tighten around him—knowing he’d so easily fucked them so good to orgasm—sent his own release crashing after them.

With a low groan as he pulled away from their swollen nipples, he couldn’t stop himself from almost instantly spilling his cum inside them, filling them to the brim until it dripped past their fluttering entrance and down their quivering thighs.

Clearly unable to hold themself up any longer after their mind-blowing half-clothed impromptu session, they collapsed onto his chest, both of their out of sync breaths heaving as they clambered to bring each other closer. It was an immediate want; a deeply-ingrained need that Zayne could feel between his ribs. He’d be damned if he had to get up any time soon.

Not when he knew he’d need at least another two rounds before the fog could clear from his head.

Taglist: @angry-and-yandere @nxx-jordiepord @honestlyjustablog @dawnbreakersgaze @tartartagliaboo @lucis-noctiana @riinari-sa @flurrina @reika-desu @randomidk-123 @tikitsune @cofijelli @roll-of-royces @lemonsupernova @loveyoutodeep @belovedof @obiwanmcprobie @hawtlineblingz @kalatipunan @eurekazz @bifedebruxa @thescribeswife @mysticangel123 @xenasolos @jvnluvr @dann-acalle @rosariymchapter @rin-sv14 @yololesgo @an-ever-angry-bi @semi-orangeapple @lavanderbliss @myturnwhen @winterlvod @carsonology @deepzombieyouth @respitable @stellisangelicus-world @kvsqkiii @bitchynightmarepost @snoozeflare @spotted-salamander @cindywasneverhere @ladyparamount @sncrly0urs @huntersmoon1 @musiclover2119 @girl-who-lives-in-delusion @milktsukii @fromdeepspace-withlove @hrhmimieucliffe @icedunderwaterroom @granddearduck @skriblobz @nadinefromwhere @imhere2dosomething @saerotonins @cantescapethevoid @teewritessmth @lovra974 (more in replies!)

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[voxslays]

Rut Season Alastor x Reader

Smut. Pure Smut.

When November rolled around, Alastor's antlers became itchy and the velvet rubbed off as he desperately tried to stave off the breeding season. Now the Radio Demon, Hell's strongest Overlord, was locked up in his room, desperately humping against the bed, imagining a loving partner he could mate with. The desire to breed a beautiful female was ever so present. He let out sharp cries every time he grinned against the mattress, trying desperately to hold himself back. "H-Haah~! Haah~! Fuck, fuck, fuck~!" From within his room, with rut warnings posted all over his door, you could hear him desperately trying to cum, but to no avail. He couldn't cum without a mate right now. Tears of sexual frustration welled in his eyes as his humping became more desperate. 

“Hey Alastor?” You say as you walk into the room, unaware. 

Alastor was so engrossed in his rut that he didn't hear the door open. He continued to hump against the bed, his tail lashing back and forth behind him. The smell of his pheromones filled the room, a heavy, musky scent that was hard to ignore. 

As soon as you start to close the door, Alastor freezes mid-hump. His tail whipping around to face you. His eyes are wild, dilated with lust. "What are you doing here?" he growls, his voice barely recognizable. Get out!" *He points to the door, his hand shaking with the effort to control himself. You look away. “Charlie told me to tell you that dinner is being served!” You say, embarrassed.

Alastor's stomach grumbled loudly at the mention of food, but his body's urgent need for release was far stronger. "I-I can't... I-I'm in rut." He let out a sharp cry, his body convulsing as he desperately tried to find release. “Oh- Uhm-” You pause. “That makes sense I guess..” Alastor's tail presses tightly to his waist, squeezing him against the bed as he continues to hump, his cries growing louder and more desperate. "F-Fuck... I need to... I need to breed..." His eyes roll back in his head, and he begins to thrash wildly.

You just stand there awkwardly before deciding to leave. “I'm just gonna go-”

“M-Mate with me!" He let out a primal roar, his antlers crashing against the headboard. His eyes, wild with desire, locked onto you. "Anything... please... just..." He paused. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you towards the bed. His strength is overpowering, and you find yourself being dragged towards him. “Alastor just wait a moment-!”

He's beyond reasoning now, his mind clouded by the intense need to breed. His tail tightens around you, pulling you down onto the bed with him. He growls, his voice low and menacing. "Can't... wait... I… need... you… now…” He pants. 

His antlers catch the light as he leans down, his hot breath fanning across your face. "Please... let me mate with you..." His arms wrap around your legs, spreading them wide as he grinds his hips against yours, his erection pressing against you. “I'll help you.” You say. His eyes widen, then roll back in his head as he lets out a roar of triumph. He starts to paw at her clothes, growling possessively. “Mine, you're mine... I'll breed you so hard…” His arms unwrap from your legs and he reaches down to unbuckle his pants, freeing his engorged member. With a loud growl, he enters you, his hips moving violently as he begins to breed. The sound of your bodies slapping together fills the room, and his antlers catch in your hair as he leans down to bite your neck, marking you as his. "FUCK~..."

He continues to move, his hips thrusting with a wild, animalistic rhythm. He can't help but let out loud, growling grunts with each thrust. “Fuck~... So tight… Ah! Say my name!” He leans down once again, his fangs grazing her earlobe. “Alastor!” You cry. He grins, his eyes fluttering shut as she speaks his name. He grinds his hips into hers, burying himself deep. “Good girl…” He praises, his voice thick and heavy. He leans down, claiming her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue dominating her own.

His movements become even more frenzied as he nears his peak. His tail wraps tightly around your waist, holding you in place as he breeds you hard and fast. He soon lets go. "FUCK..." He collapses on top of you, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. His tail unwraps from your waist and reaches down to touch your stomach, as if checking to make sure his seed has taken hold. "Mmm... I hope you're fertile..."

“W-what!?” You ask, taken aback. He nuzzles your neck, his voice contented. "I hope you're fertile... I want you to have my fawn... or several. His arms wrap possessively around you, and he lets out a purring sound. “​​A-Alastor-!” You say, extremely flustered. He silences you with a kiss, his tail tightening around you. "Shh... no regrets... You're mine now... my mate... His tail begins to slowly rub against you, its movements soothing yet possessive. "And you'll bear my young.” 

His tail continues to rub against you, its movements becoming more insistent. He breaks the kiss and nuzzles your neck, his voice low. "I can feel my seed inside you... It would be such a shame if it was all for nothing..." He stands up, his arms still wrapped around your waist. He carries you to the bathroom, setting you down on the counter. He turns on the shower and steps inside, pulling you in with him. "We'll give it a little push, just in case."

He turns you to face the shower wall and pushes your legs apart, his tail spreading them further. He reaches under you and rubs your belly gently, his other hand holding your hips in place. "Hold this position..." He begins to rub your belly in slow, rhythmic motions, his tail keeping your legs spread wide. The warm water cascades down on you both, and his voice rumbles in his chest as he purrs contentedly, his arms tightening possessively around you. "There... that should do it..." He says.

He turns off the shower and helps you out, drying you off with a large, fluffy towel. He carries you back to the bed and settles in beside you, his arm around your waist. "Get some rest, my dear..” He says. 

Masterlist

[patriotictf]

"Oh my god, this can't be real," John muttered to himself as he stepped into his new apartment. The space was adorned with distinctly MAGA-themed items - red hats, banners with "Make America Great Again" slogans, and a couple of Trump-Pence signs, all immaculately arranged.

John, a staunch liberal and openly gay, felt a pang of disgust. How had he ended up here?

"This is a nightmare," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

John stood motionless for a moment, taking in the room's overpowering display of conservative regalia. Then, a thought struck him. Maybe he could just remove all this stuff. After all, it was his apartment now.

But as soon as he attempted to take down one of the MAGA banners, he realized something strange was happening. The banner refused to budge. It seemed to cling to the wall, as if the very paint was glue.

Frustrated, John tried again, putting more force into the pull. But the result was still the same. The banner seemed stuck in place, mocking him with its stubborn resistance.

He tried another item, attempting to remove a small MAGA badge from the dresser. But just like the banner, the badge defied movement. It felt glued to the surface, no matter how hard he tugged.

John's heart began to race, a mix of confusion and panic setting in. These items were immovable. Why? How was this possible? And more importantly, what was their purpose here?

He sank down onto the bed, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. This had to be a prank. Someone had planted these items here as a cruel joke, or some weird form of psychological experiment. There was no other reasonable explanation. Or... was there?

John scanned the room again, his gaze falling on more Trump-themed items - a red "Make America Great Again" mug, a framed photo of the former president, and even a small American flag with the slogan "Keep America Great" stitched onto it.

Each item seemed to stare back at him, its presence like a slap in the face. As if the room was mocking his own political beliefs and identity.

John felt a wave of anger wash over him, but it was swiftly followed by a pang of fear. Was he trapped here? Stuck in this MAGA-themed prison, with no escape?

He stood up and began pacing, the room feeling smaller with each step. He needed to think, to figure out what the hell was going on.

Frustration grew within John as he attempted to leave the apartment, only to discover the door was impossibly stuck. No matter how much force he applied, it remained sealed, as if it had been fused to the frame.

Panic set in as he tried to use his phone to call for help, but no signal could be found. He was completely cut off from the outside world.

He turned on the TV it was on Fox News. As John frantically flicked through the television channels, he was met with an unsettling sight. Every channel was broadcasting Fox News, without exception.

No matter how many times he clicked the buttons on the remote, the channel stubbornly remained on Fox News. It was as if the TV itself had been calibrated to play only this particular station.

Frustrated and bewildered, John tossed the remote onto the coffee table, the clatter echoing through the room. He couldn't escape the barrage of conservative news and commentary, no matter what he tried.

He plopped onto the couch, a sense of helplessness washing over him. How was this happening? What strange reality had he stumbled into where every electronic item seemed hell-bent on playing Fox News on repeat?

John clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. He loathed Fox News with a passion, every segment feeling like a personal affront to his liberal beliefs. The thought of being forced to watch this drivel on a constant loop was enough to drive him insane.

He considered unplugging the TV entirely, but a sense of unease held him back. What if this was all part of some twisted plan? Unplugging the TV could have unintended consequences. He couldn't risk it.

The hours passed slowly, the TV's constant barrage of conservative news and opinion pieces wearing down John's sanity. The words "Trump" and "MAGA" seemed to be chanted over and over, a maddening chorus that filled the room.

He tried to distract himself with other activities - pacing around the room, flipping through books, even going on his laptop - but nothing could drown out the endless stream of right-wing rhetoric.

By nightfall, John was beginning to waver. He argued with himself internally, trying to hold onto his liberal principles, but the constant exposure to right-wing talking points had begun to chip away at his resolve.

He found himself agreeing with some of the opinions being broadcast, nodding in approval at times, and occasionally even finding himself agreeing with the hosts. This realization terrified him.

As he sat on the couch, John clutched his head, the internal struggle raging within him. He could feel his core beliefs being shaken to the core. Who was he? What did he truly believe?

The TV continued to blast, the host's voice droning on about the virtues of conservative values and the importance of preserving "true American" principles. Each word seemed to sink into his brain, implanting seeds of conservatism that began to take root.

John found himself agreeing more and more with what he was hearing. He started to understand the conservative way of thinking, nodding along to the rhetoric, and even feeling a pang of disappointment when they switched topics.

The liberal ideology that he had always held so dear was slowly fading away, replaced by a growing appreciation for the values being espoused by Fox News.

As the night continued, John could feel his core beliefs crumbling under the onslaught of right-wing propaganda. He was becoming increasingly receptive to the conservative narrative, no longer able to recognize the liberal values he had held for so long.

His mind was changing, slowly but surely. Fox News was rewiring his very identity, molding him into a supporter of the MAGA cause.

As John finally succumbed to exhaustion and dropped off into a fitful sleep, the room around him began to change.

Unseen forces began to take hold, slowly altering his physical form. His features sharpened, his body becoming more toned and muscular. The remnants of his once-liberal appearance faded into memory, replaced by a more rugged, conservative look.

John's hair too changed, falling out leaving him bald as a dark beard begins to grow out of his face.. His skin tone darkened subtly, taking on a more sun-kissed, masculine hue. tattoos form on his neck? thoat, arms. and hands.

As he slept, the physical transformation continued, shaping him into the epitome of a conservative man.

John's wardrobe transformed as well, even in his sleep. The liberal attire he once wore was replaced by more conservative clothing. Jeans became camo pants, his shirt became black with Make Men Men again writen across it, and boots took the place of loafers. Tattoos emerged on his body, each one reflecting a traditional, patriotic image.

He wasn't merely changing; he was being sculpted into a new person entirely.

The physical changes were drastic, but so were the mental ones. As John slept, his mind was being indoctrinated. His liberal beliefs and values were slowly being overwritten by conservative ones. He was dreaming now, visions of a strong America, traditional values, and unyielding patriotism filling his subconscious.

By the time John began to stir, he was a changed man. The physical transformation was complete; he looked every inch the conservative he was now.

His beliefs, too, had undergone a complete metamorphosis. He no longer held onto liberal ideals. In fact, he despised them.

As he sat up, groggy and disoriented, he found himself staring down at the tattoos on his arm, each one a testament to his new persona.

John's eyes flicked up towards a mirror hanging on the wall. The sight of his reflection sent a jolt of surprise through him. He couldn't believe the person staring back at him.

His appearance was that of a stereotypical conservative man. His bald head, the beard, the tattoos, the clothing - everything screamed "MAGA." He looked like a completely different person.

As he stood there, staring at his reflection in disbelief, John struggled to come to terms with his dramatic transformation.

He touched his bald head, feeling the roughness of his shaved skin. He ran his hand over his beard, tracing the thick strands that grew from his once-smooth face. He looked down at his clothing, seeing the MAGA shirt and camo pants that clung to his newly-toned body.

It was a nightmare come true. John tried to deny it, telling himself this was all just a dream. But as he pinched himself and felt the pain, he realized the horrifying truth: this was all too real. He was trapped in a body and mind he no longer recognized.

His heart raced, panic starting to kick in. He had to get out of here, find a way to reverse this nightmare. But when he moved towards the door, he found it still sealed shut.

John froze as a thought suddenly appeared in his mind, seemingly out of nowhere. It was like a strange inner voice, a thought that wasn't his own. It told him to "accept this."

He fought against it at first, resisting the idea of surrendering to the changes. But as the thought echoed in his head, it grew louder and more insistent.

For a long moment, he stood there, wrestling with his inner thoughts. The voice demanded his compliance, and it was becoming harder to resist.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of struggle, John's resistance broke. He couldn't fight the inner command any longer. He had to "accept this."

He took a deep breath, the realization sinking in. This was his reality now. He was no longer the liberal man he once was. He was a conservative, down to his bones.

With a mixture of resignation and acceptance, he stood a little straighter, embracing his new identity.

But as he made the mental shift, John felt another, more subtle change taking place. His emotions began to reshape themselves, shifting towards the conservative values now ingrained in him.

The panic and disbelief that consumed him moments ago faded away, replaced by a sense of conviction. He no longer felt the need to fight against his new identity. In fact, he felt a growing sense of comfort and even satisfaction with it.

The voice in his head grew louder, reinforcing the new emotional landscape within him. The liberal ideals he once held dear were replaced by a staunch conservatism, fueled by inner feelings of patriotism, tradition, and strength.

John began to understand that his transformation wasn't limited to the physical. It was a full-blown mental and emotional restructuring, shaping him into the perfect American conservative.

The more he delved into this new mindset, the more a sense of calmness washed over John. His past as a liberal seemed distant and almost alien.

Now, he had a deep understanding of conservative values and beliefs. He felt a strong connection to America, its heritage, and its future.

Most strikingly, John felt a growing dislike towards liberals and progressive ideals. He had become the very thing he once despised.

John opened the no longer locked door, stepping into the blistering Florida sun, squinting against the bright light. He slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses. As he felt the heat on his skin, his new conservative beliefs began to solidify further.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the humid air. It felt like a homecoming, as if this new persona of his had been waiting to emerge.

With a determined stride, John walked down the street, a sense of comfort and certainty guiding his every step.

As he walked, the city seemed to come to life around him. He passed by people of all ages - some young, some old - but what struck him was the sense of unity that pervaded the air.

He saw American flags flying proudly, MAGA hats on people's heads, and bumper stickers supporting conservative values on cars.

This was his world now. A world where patriotism was celebrated and liberal ideas were left behind.

[thatanimeramenchick]

Hi! I’m new and wanted to ask if it’s alright you you could do something for Yander Lucifer?(Hazbin?) if not that’s alright!

Yandere Lucifer Headcannons

Ah, no problem, I’ve been waiting for this one. Out of all of the guys on this show, he is my personal favorite. I have suddenly become a fan of short kings. Also, hope you have fun on this personal little hell spawn known as Tumblr.

I feel like his character very much would be in line with soft yandere content. Despite being Lucifer himself, he comes off as very gentle and affectionate, wanting the best for those he loves, even if it means doing things that make them unhappy. He just wants what’s best for you. Or at least he thinks he does.

He also comes off to me as someone who is afraid to get too close to people out of fear of either disappointing them or hurting himself. Before making up with Charlie, he doesn’t talk with her much, seems to be internally clinging to the memories of the family he once had, and views most if not all of his citizens as too far gone to salvage. If he found himself with feelings for someone, I see him trying to push the object of his affection away, until something happens that causes his feelings to spiral out of control. This could be fear the of you being corrupted or permanently endangered; it’s something that pushes him over the edge to acting on the feelings he been trying so hard to push away.

Some of this manifests in being overprotective. He can present this as being a reasonable stance considering how dangerous hell actually is. Besides the typical problems of sinners running rampant and demons trying to trick you into deals, there are also angelic weapons floating around hell that you could be killed by even when it’s not extermination day. The idea of losing someone he cares for deeply in such a permanent manner is horrifying to him. He’d rather upset you by having you locked away by force than have you tainted by hell.

Has a jealous side, as can be seen with how he interacts with Alastor. Even as the king of hell, he can be quite insecure with his relationships considering his separation from Lilith and estrangement with Charlie. He can easily see other friendships in your life as competition, depending on who they are and how much time they want to spend with you. While he isn’t against the idea of you having any companions ever, he frowns on you spending too much time with them. Besides, they’re literally citizens of hell, why would you even want to be associate with them?

Tends to pamper you. He may have you trapped in a bubble, but he wants it to be pleasant for you. Anything that you wish that is within his power to grant he will do so happily. Your imagination is the only thing limiting you when you’re with him. Well, that and whatever restrictions have been placed on you to keep you “safe.”

Showing repeated frustration at his treatment, especially if you are being particularly passionate with shouting and tears, will leave him depressed. While he’ll try to hide it from you, in private there may be long bouts of self disgust and guilt. If you are lucky enough to find out about this and you’re particularly emotionally intelligent, you may be able to work this to your advantage. It’s your best shot at escaping him, as you’re definitely not going to be overpowering him any time soon and probably aren’t going to be able to outsmart him.

[gabbiecasso]

Just me and my reflections on Shikatema

I've been weirdly hyperfixated recently on Shikamaru and Temari, and so I reflected a lot just to properly dissect the reasons myself because I initially couldn't really understand why I liked them when I was really young, more so as an adult (and as demi/ace) LOL so imma yap

As a demi, I've always struggled with romance themes. I always subtly feel like my circuits are frying when I watch anything romance or I often just plainly feel indifferent. Thankfully I managed to spot a few patterns by spending a lot of time in my head; one of them is that I prefer romance when it's not under the spotlight (idk I noticed I always prefer the side pairs more than the main pairs in any story HAHA) I guess that was one of the categories that Shikatema falls under.

I spent more than a decade watching/reading Naruto and it was enough time for me to have a close affinity with these characters and love them for creating such a huge impact in my childhood without the heavy emotional flairs that Naruto and the rest of characters put upfront. They ultimately became my two favorite characters in the series because I share the same traits and tendencies as them. It also wasn't a surprise that two of my favorite characters ended up together because their relationship was slowly developed and it didn't come off like shocking news.

Unlike the other pairs in Naruto where it seems to have characters fixating on someone or characters overshadowing the other, Shikatema operate on a level playing field. They're each strong leaders and strategists in their own right, both competent enough to recognize each other's strengths. They don't feel the need to change the other nor prove their worth. They're their own person and it clearly shows early in the series and even as it progresses to Shippuden.

I personally dislike being the center of anyone's attention or constantly feeding someone attention so I gravitate more to people who are deeply more passionate about purpose/duty/service/something more than about me and my presence. Shikatema has that dynamic where their relationship feels more like a partnership than a romance based on dependency. They both have important (political) roles in their own respective villages, and they know their purposes and the weight that they carry very well—which prolly explains why both are self-sufficient, independent, and capable. They both take their duties seriously and you don't see a scene where one craves for the other's attention (it’s funny how actively and arduously they work on their duty while in each other’s presence so you can definitely say they were literally there for (and with) each other as they fulfilled their roles as diplomat escort/advisor and diplomat/royalty)

Another that I value DEEPLY to my core is individuality, and I've always adored how Shikamaru and Temari preserve their individuality while still thriving together. It's one of the main factors why they see each other as equals and why none of them overpowers the other.

Shikamaru, laid-back and often understated, complements Temari’s directness and assertiveness. His relaxed demeanor helps her stay grounded and objective rather than just taunting in combat or in general LMFAO

Meanwhile, Temari, who is confident and comfortable taking charge, gives Shikamaru's abilities more buoyancy—she openly calls out his BS and he welcomes it because he knows how unassuming, and, at times, self-deprecating he can be. He never seeks the spotlight and often downplays his own abilities and it's where Temari's outspokenness fits the bill (this energy is also quite evident in Shikamaru Hiden)

Both characters also challenge gender norms (I'm inclined to believe that their characters' subtle sexism when they were first introduced in the series was part of the writing, there is an active discussion about this somewhere and I genuinely believe it has its purpose) Young Shikamaru yaps about her being too troublesome because she's incessantly outspoken/spunky. Young Temari yaps about him being too emotional because he didn't seem to receive emotional training.

Yet in the long run, Shikamaru's honesty and vulnerability allow Temari to soften up and witness the act of kindness by someone who wears his heart on his sleeve (which was first seen during the Sasuke retrieval arc at the hospital where Shikamaru had an emotional breakdown) and Temari's unwavering strength and energy nudges Shikamaru into action when he might otherwise hesitate (Temari often banters with him to make him commit to his decisions and not spend too much time in his head)

Both characters also have innate leadership. I noticed that one of my main attraction points is leadership (as an act of service girlie) and these two have that strong nature: Shikamaru leads with his introspective nature, while Temari leads with her assertive nature.

It was evident first during the Chunin exams when they were pitted against each other—both read their opponents exceptionally well and they both show a strong sense of battle awareness while keeping their cool and executing their strategies effectively. It's no surprise that Shikamaru was promoted Chunin and Temari was promoted Jonin & Ambassador (it wasn't clear when Temari was promoted, but in the early episodes of Shippuden, she was already a Jonin & Ambassador who frequently visits Konoha) They both learned to grow as leaders who first serve their people before themselves in their respective villages and it stretches further during the war arc where they serve not just people from their respective villages but the entire Alliance.

Both were also Chunin exam proctors, so ain't that great LOL I think it was one of the many factors why I never doubted their parenting (and Shikadai did grew up to be such a fine and disciplined shinobi with a strong moral code) Both did seem to question each other's parenting styles since Temari favors intense training while Shikamaru advocates leisure (which I believe is a great balance) but both parents have fostered Shikadai's agency; allowing him to come up with his own conclusions and decisions based on his critical thinking because both Shikamaru and Temari share the same values in their youth.

In the series, high intensity emotions are almost always present in every relationship but their relationship has a subdued nature—They don't need long stretches of dialogues to understand each other because all they needed was experiences, and a little observation and deduction.

They didn't need to prove their worth to each other (or to anyone honestly) because it's built on deep understanding rather than overt passion. Altho it had a different interpretation in the manga, both characters even agree that marriage is troublesome LOL (but welp)

Last one is that both are strategists. Chess is my sport and puzzles/tactical games that require mental effort has always been my comfort, I guess it's natural for me to gravitate to these two. (I like any strategic characters who also wear their heart on their sleeve)

They also approach strategy differently: Shikamaru’s intellect makes him highly logical and analytical, often relying on foresight to plan for every possible outcome. Temari is a decisive, action-oriented strategist; often has the courage to commit to a decision quickly. She also heavily thinks on the fly to understand an opponent's motive and naturally adapts.

This was again exhibited during the Chunin exams where Shikamaru's strategic skills allowed him to use his environment to his advantage while Temari displayed her adaptability and quick-thinking capabilities to counter Shikamaru's offenses since she's a heavy thinker herself.

Temari may not be as exceptionally creative as Shikamaru but she highly values intel, reason, and logic in order to come up with a counter. This was exactly the reason why her battle with Shikamaru was further stretched; up to the point where Shikamaru exhausted his chakra.

I deeply adore how both characters value planning, precision, and patience in combat while other characters in the story value power, tenacity, and speed. Irl, I value the same set of values as Shikatema in chess/games/puzzles and so I guess it’s no surprise. I get to just admire the intellectual aspect of their relationship where it allows them to not just connect emotionally but also challenge each other mentally in every screen time they had.

Thanks for coming to my yapping thread if you ever made it in the end LOL

[lovesculprit]

just a little something before the full fic {mdni} cw: mentions of blood

Knight!Nanami who...is captivated by your dangerous spirit in battle. And every time he goes into the battlefield with you, he finds himself drawn to you in ways he cannot rationalise. There is something about the way you move with such ferocity, your blade cutting through the air with precision, which hypnotises him.

The moment you land a blow on him that draws blood, it’s like a spark igniting something deep within him—part adrenaline, part raw admiration. The sting of pain from your attack sharpens his senses, and rather than fuelling anger, the thrill heightens. Being this close to someone who so completely challenges him-physically and mentally-only serves to make the blood pumping through his veins hotter.

The line between opponent and something more begins to blur as the threat of injury fans the flames of a desire he can't fully comprehend.

Knight!Nanami who...holds back in battles, not wanting to hurt you. He feels a hesitation, foreign to him, as your encounters grow more frequent. When it comes to you, it's not about winning. There’s a strange, unspoken connection in each clash, as though his blade could do more damage than he wants. It’s a delicate dance—swords clashing, but the tension between you is stronger than any weapon.

It's the spark in your eyes that catches him off guard; the fluidity of your movements, the fire behind every strike. He holds back, not because he's afraid you'll overpower him, but because part of him just can't bear the thought of truly hurting you. Every duel greets a mix of aggression and restraint in him, a barely constrained tension taking his heart racing for reasons other than battle.

Knight!Nanami who...finds the bloodshed strangely exhilarating, especially when it involves you. There’s an edge to your battles that’s more than just combat; it’s a pull, an undeniable attraction that’s heightened with every drop of blood spilled.

When your blade cuts into him enough to draw blood, he relishes in the pain—it’s a thrill, a visceral reminder of how close you are. And when he sees your blood, it only intensifies the strange bond between you, like it’s drawing him closer to something primal and intimate. Every encounter feels like it teeters on the edge between violence and passion, a dangerous mixture of rivalry and lust. The battlefield crackles with sexual tension, a storm that builds with every hit, every glance, leaving him wondering if he craves victory—or you—more.

Knight!Nanami who...feels an unexpected desire stir inside him whenever he sees you in the remnants of battle. The sight of you, fierce and defiant, with blood—whether yours or his—staining your skin, ignites something darker within him. There's something intoxicating about your skin smeared with streaks of crimson, your chest heaving with exertion. The sight shouldn’t affect him this way, but it does.

The blood marks your strength, a testament to your resilience, and it only heightens his desire. His eyes linger too long, captivated by the raw power you exude in those moments. It’s as though the sight of you, bloodied, calls to something primal within him. He can’t tear his gaze away, the mix of admiration and dark desire coiling tight in his chest, leaving him more unsettled—and more drawn to you—than ever.

Knight!Nanami who...always wants to kiss you in the heat of battle. Every time he watches you, fierce and defiant, something inside him snaps. The sight of your bloodied form, still standing strong, stirs an overwhelming need within him—not just to fight you, but to claim you. His gaze falls to your lips, and for a fleeting moment, he’s consumed by the urge to pull you close, taste the adrenaline and blood on your skin. It’s in those charged moments that he wants to forget the rivalry, push you against the nearest surface, and fuck you senseless.

He wonders if you feel it too—that undeniable pull. Every look, every touch of your blade against his, fans the flames of his desire until it almost burns out of control. The thought of having you writhing underneath him, not in pain but of pleasure drives him wild. Knowing that in those moments, the battlefield will be forgotten, and the real fight will begin—one where both of you can finally surrender to the overwhelming need that has been building between you all along.

© lovesculprit → do not copy or translate any of my works

[uzurakis]

geto suguru likes confined places.

so it’s not a surprise when he allows his passion to overpower him in the dressing room, especially with you being the reason.

a magnetic pull drew suguru and you closer, your breaths mingling in the charged air, thick with desire. “suguru..” your breath hitched as his lips leaned in, craving the taste of you. still being wary, you confided, "others might hear us.”

“hmm?” delicate fingertips tracing the contours of your body, suguru was not paying attention to your words, "but you look so breathtaking in this dress, princess,” his lips continued to trip on yours, gradually moving down to your neck and collarbone with his hot breath tickling you.

a breathless laugh escaped your lips as you surrendered to the intoxicating pull of desire. "you're such a flirt," you slurred as you felt his grin between the sloppy kisses.

abruptly, he seized your wrist, taking two of your fingers prior to reaching your lips. "open your mouth for me, princess," and continued to wax your own fingers by circling it with spit.

a soft moan escaped from your lips as he skillfully made you tease yourself by playing around your clit. right, he’s making you fuck yourself for him. "hold it in, princess," suguru urged, his voice a husky whisper against your ear, hands still directing yours.

your hips buckled front to back as he guided your middle finger to make circular strokes on your clit. he curled and heightened the heat underneath you with another finger, just to torment you, before releasing it up and down on the slick surface again.

you were lost in the heat of the moment as he finally slipped two digits inside your cunt, playing with them as he caught your kisses transformed into choked back moans. “a-ah.. suguru..” it felt so good, too good when you had to finger yourself as if it were his. you may not have any self consciousness in front of your boyfriend right now, but damn it, who cares?

and, oh, he adored watching you so worked up by your own fingers, still having you stroke the inside of your pussy, gradually making it quicker and faster. “suguru.. i’m g-gonna—“

“shh, hush it, babe,” his words trailed off.

"ya don't want 'em to hear us, right?"

[fanaticsnail]

Hi, I was wondering if I could ask Crocodile for kissing booth, please? He's the Best Croco-Daddy!! LOVE HIM!!! He was my first crush aside from King and Ace, and I can't wait for him in the Live ACTION!!!!

The Kissing Booth - Sir Crocodile for Cartoonykat

Word Count: 700+

Notes: I am so excited to see where they're gonna go with him in the live action too! He's so mean, ferocious and terrifying, but look at how kind he is towards animals (One piece comic issue 860). Come and get some possessive Croco-kisses, Cartoonykat!

The thud of expensive leather hitting the gravel road with each heavy, crunching footfall had your ears stand alert to attention. A soft clink of cool metal meeting your glass jar at your side prompted your brows to draw focussed and lips to purse in focus at the person in front of you.

“Tsk, what’s this?” you heard a disapproving and unimpressed voice call to the side of you, “2,000 Berry for a kiss? That hardly seems a reasonable price for such a feat.” You furrow your brows in a deep frown at the presumed criticism at the notion of an exchange of affection for Berry. 

“If you don’t like the idea of donating Berry to charity,” your pout was heard in each of your articulated words, “Kindly move along and make way for someone who does.” A soft rumbled chuckle reverberates in the chasms of your guests chest as a puff of sour smoke clouds your lungs. You cough and wince at the cruel intrusion in your breath, but attempt to brave your face.

“On the contrary,” the stranger uttered, placing a handful of papers and coins within the jar, “I would deem your lips of far greater value than such a meager amount.” The sizzle of smoke dimming rose in your ears, your blindfold truly inhibiting your ability to know the expression on the face of your new guest. 

“Oh?” you ask him, folding your arms and crossing your legs as you recline against the barstool, “And what value would you place on my lips, sir- oh!” You squeak as you feel him cage you beneath him, his overpowering aura dominating you at your booth. 

“Let’s find out, shall we?” he whispered against your lips, immediately surging forward and capturing your breath with a bruising and intense kiss. 

Gripping the base of your stool for support, you feel something metal circle the back of your neck and draw your face up to meet him. His right hand reached down to the stool, clasping around your hand and gently squeezing your digits in a bid to have you release your chair and draw your hand up within his.

He raises your hand, placing your palm flat on his chest above his heart, while he gently brushes his nose with yours. Angling his face, he gently coaxes more intensity from you with each intentional and possessive motion. 

Your hand gently caresses his chest, feeling the textures and materials of silks, satins and embroidery embellishing his broad stature. He hums into your lips, the gentle touch against his body contrasting the ravaging he was pressing into your lips. 

He releases your lips from his intense oscillation, pressing one final ounce of contradicting sweetness in a soft kiss before pulling away entirely. Your lips remain parted and partially bruised, breath hitching and panting to come down from such an amassment of passion so overwhelmingly hastily placed against you. 

“Hm, what would be an appropriate fee to pay for such overwhelming sweetness?” he uttered against you, a chuckle depicted in his tone. You felt the metal object gently scrape your skin as he withdrew it from circling your neck. 

“While I would say you’re priceless,” he snickered gently, his hand reaching up and pinching your chin, “I would never dream of stooping so low to relay such humor as a bid to flatter you.” You heard a few more leaves fall into the jar. “Especially since you are worth much more than pretty words and a handful of Berry.” 

The figure retreated, leaving you sitting stunned beneath your blindfold and processing what just occurred between you and them: You took his initial words as an insult, depicting your disdain by insulting him, prompting him to flatter you with pretty words before and after claiming your lips with his. 

Your perplexion would remain with you for the remainder of the day, only growing more intense when you realized just how much Berry was in the jar at the end of the night. The hulking figure of Sir Crocodile would not leave his generosity and gratuity left unclaimed, and would return to you as your shift finishes at the end of the night to claim more kisses from you - if that was truly what you desired from him.

[rsanchezslut]

I just have this crazy image of like. Being DISASTROUSLY tired for whatever reason, maybe work was shit or Rick put you up to something that ended up going badly, and you’re just dragging your tired, achey feet back to your house so you collapse into bed…

And when you finally make it home, pushing open the door expecting dead silence and darkness, Rick is there on your couch waiting for you, a plate of dinner Beth made wrapped in cellophane, a sweaty beer he’s been saving for you next to it on the coffee table, watching TV of sorts or fiddling with an invention and whatnot.

And it used to be you’d get home from days like this to nothing, nobody. And maybe you’d give Rick a call for sex or attention or even just to tell him you miss him… but suddenly he’s waiting up for you, looking at you standing in the doorway to the living room as if he doesn’t know, is ignoring why you’re shocked.

N you don’t want to scare him off, so you sorta just float down next to him, not saying anything, sitting down and waiting for him to acknowledge you except it’s just…

“Well?” Rick says, giving you somewhat of bland look from out of the corner of his eye, “gonna say hi or what, baby?”

You’re not sure if it’s shock or exhaustion causing your silence to fester, the surprise of his presence or the unexpected joy that’s starting to simmer at the realization he had the idea to come see you.

“Hi, Rick,” you coo softly, tiredly, nudging into him as you sink next to him on the couch, and then when he doesn’t respond immediately, “What are you doing here?”

He rolls his eyes. “If I knew you didn’t want me around, I wouldn’t have come. I’m happy to leave.”

There’s no malice in his voice, none of the usual heat and tease, so it’s obvious there’s no intention behind the threat. Still, you reach out for him anyway, grabbing the hand closest to you as if to stop him from pulling out his portal gun suddenly.

“No,” you say, almost too quickly, too needy, causing his pinched face to melt somewhat. “No. I mean… I just wasn’t expecting you, is all.”

You lean in hesitantly to press a kiss to his stubbly cheek, a kiss he tilts to return when you pull away slowly, as if in fear that he wouldn’t be receptive. His lips are surprisingly gentle against yours, it’s more of a peck than his usual excited kiss, wet with passion and ferocity at the thought of what will happen next, but the tenderness isn’t unwanted, and in fact, fills you with a sudden warmth that quickly seems to overpower your fatigue from the day.

(And you find that it’s not lust or longing but rather a feeling of affection which seems to buzz under your skin, as if aching to be let out.)

Reaching a hand up to his jaw, you pull back to stare into Rick’s own eyes, suddenly going shy as he gestures to the plate of food he brought you.

“Thanks for coming,” you peck him again, this time fully pulling him away from the TV, “I’m really happy to see you, you know?”

“Yeah,” he says, shutting his eyes as he leans in closer to you. “Me too.”

[whyse7vn]

JEON JUNGKOOK

FIVE SENSES:

SMELL

To Jungkook you smell like home. Always have probably always will. Sweet. Your scent is sweet not an overpowering sweet but not an underwhelming one either it’s just right, just you. Before you and him even thought about getting an apartment together you still smelt like home to him. Like he said you always have. The very first dorm that the group moved into you and Jungkook were actually roommates. Although he didn’t talk to you much, given he didn’t talk to anyone that much during those times, He enjoyed hearing you babble about everything and nothing from the bottom bunk each night, he enjoyed sharing the confined space with you. So when you had to move into your own room for “privacy reasons” or whatever Namjoon said he was upset, understandably so. And to add insult to injury they had given you the room furthest from his. Your presence, well lack of presence in now just his room was unsettling. He felt as if he couldn’t relax in his own room like something was missing-well you were missing but it’s not like you had moved out of the house completely you were just down the hall yet Jungkook felt so…. uncomfortable. In his own room, his own space, his own home. Uncomfortable. It wasn’t until two weeks later when Jungkook had finally worked up the courage visit your room, pathetic he knows, he understood why. As soon as he opened the door the sweet smell of you overtook him. Home. Here Jungkook officially named the smell of you home.

TOUCH

With everything you handle you do it with love, care and delicacy physical or not. It may not always seem that way to others but Jungkook knows, hell he’s experienced it himself more times than he can count. So when Jungkook reaches to touch you he only hopes it radiates the same level of love, care and delicacy you show to him and others. In fact he prays his touch radiates those same traits and more. Jungkook prays that through his touch you can feel his passion, desire, his need for you. Your skin soft in Jungkook’s palm, he thinks about all the times you’ve held your hand to his face looked him deep in the eyes and tucked his loose hair behind his ears. He repeats the same actions on you, your cheek warm, he hopes you feel the same butterflies he does when your the one holding him, hopes you want to kiss him as bad as he wants to kiss you in these moments. Everything about Jungkook’s touch on you is warm every high five, every hand hold to every kiss fuelled by nothing but love and admiration. Physical touch Jungkooks preferred love language solely because of you. He lives for your touch no doubt about it deep down he prays you live for his.

SOUND

The sound of your voice is calming to him, sometimes it scares the shit out of him and on occasion (many) it makes him feel…. things. Ultimately Jungkook likes the sound of your voice scratch that he loves the sound of your voice. Since trainee days he’s loved the sound of your voice. You talk a lot,much to his delight, you know being the shy kid and all he didn’t always talk much as he does now so having the sound of your voice was really a blessing. Your voice allowed him to be included provided him comfort and gave him friendship. The sound of you alone could has and will continue to stop him dead in his tracks every time. He enjoys the sound of you in all forms anger, happiness, joy, sadness, pleasure don’t get it wrong by no means does Jungkook enjoy when your angry or sad in fact if you’re crying he’s crying right alongside you but there is a small part of him that does enjoy that he’s able to hear the sound of you in these moments. Reminds him you’re actually real that you’re actually here with him. The sound of you grounds him. The sound of you is calming.

TASTE

Obsessed. Jeon Jungkook is obsessed with the taste of you. Unapologetically obsessed. From the taste of your lips to the taste of your… uh well…. lips. Much like the smell of you, you taste sweet but unlike the smell of you Jungkook could write a 14 paged essay on what exactly the taste of you is. Honey sweet honey you taste like what he imagines the shiniest star is the sky tastes like warm life changing just so fucking good. Call Jungkook an addict he would take the title with no shame whatsoever having the taste of you on his lips and on his mind constantly worth any title they threw at him although he would prefer ‘the luckiest man alive’. Now the first time you kissed Jungkook, yes you willingly kissed Jungkook, he swears that he was reborn died right there on the spot died again and was reborn. The kiss no joke was the best kiss he has truly ever had in his life as soon as your sweet warm honey star life changing lips came in contact with his he could of cried well, he did cry but not in front of you, no in front of you after the kiss he gave you a quick bow and a small “thank you” with a extremely red face before running off, again Jungkook DID NOT CRY (in front of you). However first time Jungkook got to taste you again, if you know what i mean, admittedly he did cry in front of you, how could he not? If kissing you was him being reborn this was like getting murdered. Shot in the back of the head close range no warning with a wife a house a dog and a newborn on the way. He was in heaven, had to be, a babbling fucking mess in heaven. The taste of you too good unreal almost. So yeah that time Jungkook did cry in front of you so what? You were into it anyways he thinks… he hopes, whatever 10/10 would do again. When it comes to the taste of you Jungkook doesn’t play the taste of you makes him unapologetically feral.

SIGHT

No phrase in any language no word in any dictionary could accurately describe the sight of you. Not breath taking not pretty not cute not sexy none of those words are you because you’re all of them and more, you’re just so… beautiful. He settles on beautiful, still it lacks the kick that he needs it to have, the warmth, the love, appreciation the everything but he’s fighting a loosing battle at this point so as much as it hurts him to he settles on beautiful. From the hairs on your head to the tip of your toes, inside and out. You by far the most beautiful sight Jungkook has ever seen.

—

moral of the story jungkook a munch ☠️

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @blairebangtan @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @seokmyballs @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @meowgiz @jmnscutie @threeopossumsinacoat @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiiiislife @lowkeykin @iammeandmeisiam @socksfirstalways @knjlvr06 @lailaisarmy @thvkives @xstfudaisyx @xxxanimangxxx @solstice34 @ml8dy @hoeforseoks @futuristicenemychaos @featjunranghae @jksgirlfrl

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

*.of all base passions, fear is most accursed.*

(i think, that one of those reasons why i always adored the scarecrow, even as a kid, not only bc of his horror aestetics, but also bc....fear is generally such a facinzting topic. such a vivid, mundane, yet awfully powerful thing. an' jonathan seems to view himself as both the master n' the slave of said emotion. or more so, he claims that he used to be overpowered by it as jonathan crane, but the scarecrow is the one, who holds it within his palm. an' i mean, both of those things are true an' co-exist. but in this instance, i only took the set-ups, where he's a scared, panicked lil animal. just how i like him, aside from him being absolutely nuts and' vicious as hell. bc i very much love those set-ups too!

but ahh, both drawings weren't planned. like not in a way, they are now at least. i was doodling idli an' sorta wanted to draw some sketchy spooked jon, then somehow other jons came into existence lol. so i just made a collage of them. drawing scarecrow an' scarebat stuff is cathartic for me. i just had to commit an' finish them. an' then make another art, just bc it felt right. or more like, i drew jonathan all distressed an' spooked, an' wanted to give him a comfort after being kinda mean to him. an' ah, yeah well….about that. i guess, one can say, that i kinda did it, but it still looks like a nightmare lmao. aka jon's main nightmare, where he associates batman with headless horseman. but it *batman* gives him a bit of comfort this time. it's kinda shippy, but also kinda not fully? as a shipper, i naturally see it as a nod to my otp, but honestly, this also can be just that. the bat being nice to jon, bc he's depressed an' intoxicated by fear an' mumbling things under his breath. at this point, it's my set-in-stone hc, that batman babysits him sometimes, when he's like this. so if i will draw it for like, third time at some point….then, i will draw it for third time, yea.

bc shippy or not, i just want bruce to pat poor sackhead on the shoulder, since he literally have no one to provide him any comfort / sympathy / pity, like ever. an' bruce can also finally see someone, whose life sucks way more than his own, so it's a win'win. not to mention, that batman's saviour complex prob always hella confused around jonathan. like, he's gotta smack him in the face, cuz' jon is evil, but he's also so sad an' kinda deplorable, that bruce wanna *or gonna* lecture his bullies for him lol.)