#pretty much only rendered the head i hate rendering bodies

[fraisepop]

I finally found this and decided to post it!!

(its a bit lazy also i HATEEE the anatomy sorry about the errors in it)

i luv grshit !!

[mariasont]

not sure if you’re planning to write this, but smut with spencer & bimbo!receptionist!reader would probably fix my problems 😔 i feel like spencer would be praising her nonstop, while also being condescending & i fucking live for that‼️

Undo You - S.R

a/n: i love ur mind anon 😚 i hope this lives up to what you want 🫶🏼🫶🏼✨ thank you for requesting xoxo

anyway i kinda think this is bad bc i didn’t proofread but whatever ill prob go back and edit laters!

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

summary: bimbo reader and spencer doing the nasty

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fingering, degrading? (not really), spencer being slightly condescending, p in v, unprotected sex (BE BETTER!), creampie (STOP I HATE IT TOO BUT WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO CALL IT?!?!?! TWINKIE?!?!)

wc: 1.3k

Mustering the courage to ask you out was a feat in itself but getting you into his bed was a whole other ballgame. But here you were, fingers roaming through his hair and tracing the contours of his back. You were perfect, and you were in his bed.

The wasn't the first, nor would it be the last if he had anything to do with it. It's hard to fathom his good luck--to have you, breathtaking in every sense, under him, your fingertips gently grazing his waist band as you inch towards his cock.

Your makeup was almost artfully messy, with mascara delicately pooled beneath your lashes, rendering you devastatingly tempting. You had glittering eyeshadow on, and it was getting everywhere. Spencer felt the urge to undo you--to disrupt the pristine image you presented to the world, to make you uniquely his. Selfish? Without a doubt. But that didn't diminish the idea. 

Your hands, with their perfect manicure, were now wrapped around his cock, tugging and pulling as if your palms were sculpted precisely for this purpose. 

You were saying something, your lips a mesmerizing motion as he grasped the sheets beside you, each fistful a concerted effort to remain control.

"What, angel?" He was trying to be patient with you.

You talked a lot in general, but in bed, it only seemed to amplify. This was not a bad thing, not in his eyes, no, it was almost too much of a good thing. Each time your mouth opened and closed with another airy comment he found himself that much closer to spilling his load all over you.

"Your face is really red," you breathed out, nostrils flaring slightly, your eyes averted, engrossed in the sight of his length enclosed between your hands.

He stifled a laugh, resisting the urge to shove his cock into that pretty mouth of yours.

"Well, you see," Spencer starts, pausing as your hand presses to the tip of his length, "when someone is excited...or aroused, blood flow increases to the f-face, causing...vasodilation. It's... it's a sympathetic nervous system response."

"Oh, like when you get all red after running?" You tilt your head in that curious way of yours, your actions uninterrupted as words flowed from you.

"Yes, exactly like that."

He grabbed your hand, pulling you off of him and pressing that same hand to the mattress below him.

"And just like my face gets red, your pupils dilate when you're excited," Spencer explains, his hand poised just above your collarbone, sketching paths on your skin, "It's due to the release of norepinephrine, which is part of your body's fight of flight response."

Your lips were parted, pressing your body into him like you couldn't help yourself, hips squirming under his.

"So, what's the verdict, sweet girl?" Spencer asks, watching your gaze met his, lips parting as he dragged a hand over your clothed heat. "What's your body telling you? Fight of flight?"

You kissed him, gasping into his mouth as he pushed a finger into you. You were drenched. "Is submit an option?"

"That's my girl," he said, feeling his cock tighten even more, as if that were possible, almost moaning at the sight of your dimple being drawn out.

You whined, arching your back against the navy-blue sheets as your hands locked around his neck, pulling him impossibly close. He could smell everything about you from here—your coconut shampoo, your vanilla perfume, your lavender lotion. He wanted to inhale it, to inhale you.

He didn't even bother with your skirt, simply pulling your panties out from under it and lining himself up with your entrance. He watched, enthralled, as your chest rose and fell, holding your breath as you braced for his cock. You were so good for him, too good for him.

One hand clasped against your hip as the other guided his length into you, hissing as you tightened around him. It was a feeling that could never get old, like he was being reborn, like the world was ending and you and him were the only two people left. He would be fine with that.

Your face twisted up in pleasure as you began to rock against him, not giving yourself that chance to adjust. You did this often and it caused him to push down on your hips, stopping your movements. He could come if you kept doing that. He would.

"Patience," he hissed, but you were never one that was good with following orders.

You moved again, tits bouncing up and down your chest as you did. He stifled a groan, meeting your movements with thrusts of his own.

He imagined this is what Buddhists meant when they referred to finding the garden of Nirvana. This was it for him. The ultimate state of liberation and profound peace.

You were a blubbering mess, fingertips clawing down his back, surely to leave marks, but he couldn’t care less.

“Look at you,” he cooed, rutting his cock in and out of you. “You’re awfully quiet. Got something on your mind, baby?”

“N-No,” you stammered, legs wrapping around his waist as your arms went around his neck, clinging to him like a koala, your moans now pressed up against his ear.

“I figured as much.”

Your tits were flush against his chest, his breath stalling as he reached in the limited space between you, thumb circling your clit. Your whines intensified, just as his thrusts did.

“Spencer, please, yes, oh fuck—,” you paused, a gasp releasing from your lips as he felt you unravel on his cock, your wet cunt clenching around him in a way that made his legs shake.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that.” His movements were more desperate now, sloppily slamming into you without mercy. “You’re so fucking good, baby.”

He barely recognized your lips against his ear. “Will you come inside me please?”

That was all it took, those simple words, brushing against his skin and rushing all the way down to his cock. His thrusts slowing as he pumped himself inside you, the sound completely obscene, but it just made him enjoy it that much more.

You were limp against the bed, and Spencer was quick to follow, face finding the crook of his neck as he tried his best not to crush you with his weight.

He could feel your pulse against his lips, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses into your honey induced skin as he waited for you to return back to planet Earth.

He was well aware of the drill, pressing one last kiss to your sweaty forehead before prying himself out of your hands and making a beeline for the bathroom. He grabbed a towel and a glass of water before coming back to the bed, nearly fainting at your tired smile shining at him, at him.

“Hi, gorgeous.”

“I really love when you call me that,” you said, almost dreamily as you pushed your tousled hair into the pillow.

He laughed, placing the water on the table and moving your legs so he was between them.

“Gorgeous,” he repeated as he dabbed the towel to your sex, cleaning the mess he made on you. “Do I not call you that enough? Because I can certainly make it a more regular occurrence.”

“Well, I mean, it couldn’t hurt,” you said, giggling as you flinched away from the pressure on your clit.

He pushed your leg down, preventing you from squirming. “Let me clean you up.”

You pouted, and he had the sudden urge to bite your bottom lip. You gave him a salute, giggling before you could even get the words out. “Aye, aye captain.”

He tossed the towel to the side, climbing up your legs as he kissed you, soft and slow, murmuring into your lips, “come here, smart ass.”

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf

[seattlesellie]

i’m sorry but can we PLEASE talk about thigh riding🙏 it’s so underrated

mhmmmm :(( especially if it goes from sloppy makeout sesh to desperately rutting on ellie’s thigh & especially if she hasn’t even seen you go that desperate for her yet, because let’s say it’s only been a week of you dating or messing around.

an: i don’t know why this came out longish i swear its pure horny. btw it’s gamer!ellie 🎮🎀💗

can see this whole thing starting from a stare at her practiced fingers twitching and toying with her ps controller. safe to say it’d usually be a bit tedious to simply be an observer of someone playing a video game… not with ellie though, definitely not with ellie. definitely not with the way she cusses sharply under her breath, the way her palm goes to rest against your bare thigh as she switches up her in game gear, the way that cheeky tongue pokes out of her lips in concentration… you’d be distracted to say the least, nodding dumbly as she notes “y’see how i just did that babe?”

and just because you find it hard to concentrate and ignore the thick tension, filling the room with its obnoxious buzz — doesn’t mean she has it any easier, by no means, she can just mask it better… ish. your doe eyed stares, the way you whine silently as she loses, rest your head on her firm shoulder with a cheerful “yay ellie” as she wins… keep staring at her fingers (for some reason she might or might not pick up on, you do it a lot) — you render her a blushing taut mess, render her palms sweaty and slippery on the round plasticky ball of her controller.

however she masks it, and you don’t — and now you’re staring with those sparkly eyes, and the figures on the screen begin to mush together into one giant, pixelated orb. the corner of ellie’s mouth rises up to an involuntary smirk (that asshole), and she loosens her grip on the red controller. “need something? jheez, you’re staring” murmurs ellie, still teasing you like she did before you got together — except, now she no longer needs to hide her blush with a tilting of her face, because she knows you caught her already. plus, it makes her stomach stir with butterflies. “jus’ looking at your pretty face” says you — silently, sheepishly smiling and arching your brows. it’s so much fun to be able to actually tell her that, cause y’know — that’s your girlfriend now.

ellie chuckles, throwing the controller to the side, adjusting her body from a manspreading position to sitting criss crossed on the couch. she wipes her forehead with her forearm — a sign of nervousness? you lick your glossy lip, she’s so cute.

“you’re the pretty one” ellie notes.

you cock your head to the side, fake pondering. “if i’m the pretty one, what are you then?”

truthfully you’re so cute in your pj shorts, she doesn’t think she knows who she is anymore or if her name’s actually ellie. she sighs, huffing some air out of her cinnamon freckled cheeks. “the cool one”

okay… maybe, but she’s also just awfully gorgeous. you roll your eyes, “well,” — you throw your hands and smack them on your thighs, “i think you’re just pretty” — and she thinks you’re just stubborn.

“don’t think i’m cool?” she snorts, completely ignoring the compliment once again (as it makes her cheeks grow plum red and she’s hating that right now). she signals at the flat screen with her pointer finger, “you’re gonna pretend you didn’t just see me fucking that team up? i mean…” she keeps on yapping, your smack your lips and stare at hers. you’re not pretending to do anything, it’s not your fault you’ve been ignoring the game when she’s been toying with that plastic ball like you dream she’d toy with your—

“can you kiss me?”

you’ve interrupted her completely, but it pretty much seals the deal.

the back of your neck is being pulled by her right hand, and the string of your tank top is being pulled by her left one — not to undress, simply just to bring you closer. her lips on yours feel like heaven, a small gasp released by your mouth. she hums into the kiss, then pulls away. “knew you weren’t paying attention to me” ellie murmurs and it sends shivers down your spine. her voice is husky and cocky and ugh! you almost feel the need to let her swallow you whole. “was paying attention,” you insist, blinking like you’re in panic (or letting your lashes flutter to turn her on), “just not to the game”

“yeah?” she chuckles, caressing your half covered back with slow, up and down strokes. “what were you looking at then?” she questions with a cocky grin. you so want to kiss her again. “dunno”, you shrug innocently, slightly letting your bottom lip fall down into a pout. she so wants to kiss you again — so she does, murmuring a broken sentence of “ohmmmmph — you dunno?” into the kiss.

this time, the kiss is different. she slides her tongue inside of your begging mouth, letting it swirl and twirls over yours, pull it — goddamn, suckle on it with a horny grunt. you whimper, hiccup, cry almost, desperately seeking something more… a relief, to that dull ache that’s sitting or stomping between your legs — all because of a kiss and her grunt and that controllers ball you’re so damn jealous of…

“c’mere” she huffs, but instead of letting you come there, she forcefully grabs you by your waist, making you sit atop her lap. you’re both gasping, you wanna say something, but she kisses the corner of your mouth and… “ellie” is all you can whine, she responds with a squeeze to your waist. she kisses more, planting plenty of pecks to your scorching cheek, letting out shaky breaths to each and every one of your half whimpers half moans. she reaches your neck, and her tongues out again. she licks a long stripe, a confident one, but breaks it in order to look into your eyes and ask for your consent — it’s the farthest you’ve went so far.

“babe?”, she asks, your half lidded eyes and dazed look kind of tell her all she needs to know but she’s chivalrous.

“please” you whisper, nodding then burying your face in the crook of her neck. she grunts to that — jesus how pretty you sound when you beg, you have no fucking idea. another suckle on your neck comes, this time right at your pulse point, making the hairs rise and a clit thump. you let go of a choked gasp, holding on to ellie’s shoulders as she splatters open mouthed kisses on the flesh of your neck. you grab the back of her neck, pull on her bun. “fuuhuck” she exasperates, as if she’s the one getting marked and sucked on. quickly enough, because ellie misses your lips, she kisses you again with a whole lotta tongue.

you don’t even notice when or how you started grinding and rocking on her grey sweat’s covered thigh. in too much of a daze to notice anything at this point — you searched for friction.

she notices quickly enough though (obviously).

“whatcha doing, huh?” she lets her forehead kiss yours. your eyes are fully shut — to be honest, her question sounded like gibberish and the cotton material of your shorts was so thin. you don’t respond, you just… rut. she pulls slightly away, back straightening and leaning backwards, almost as if she was watching a play at the theater. she heavily breathes, scrunches her scarred brows and takes a look — takes a stare — at the way you seem so… concentrated, and horny, pouty and needy and it’s all for her or because of her. she almost places her hands on her head and leans back to keep watching.

her muscular thigh feels good — too good, you wanna bounce on it till you cum and leave a stain on her pants, you want her to bounce you on it — her, with her hands… where are her hands?!

you break right out of your trance, embarrassingly open your eyes and search for ellie… who’s leaning back, mouth agape and eyes coal black as she flexes her thigh. there’s a mixture of pure need and humiliation inside of your gut, but the latter evaporates as she mutters the following words;

“do that again”

[huntingingoodwill]

aren’t you gonna tuck me in? (j.m.)

masterlist

pairing: brat!reader x joel miller

prompt: goodnight kiss

a/n: a lil sumn for @janaispunk’s 1.5k kisses challenge!!! with a bit of a grumpy x sunshine dynamic smirk smirk... congrats babes 💕

“You crazy old motherfucker!” Your screams were tinged with laughter as Joel slung you over his shoulder, carrying you out of the Tipsy Bison. 

“Who’re you calling a crazy old motherfucker?” Joel grumbled, locking his arm tight around your thigh and kicking open the door as he pointedly ignored your friends’ whoops and whistles. 

You blew them a kiss before they disappeared behind the swinging door, at which point you gestured to the desolate road Joel had carried you out onto.

“Don’t see any other crazy old motherfuckers around.” 

The slice of light that fell upon the road from the open door reduced into nothingness as it swung shut, leaving you and Joel awash in blue moonlight. 

“If I’m crazy, it’s only ‘cause you drove me to the brink-” He paused in exasperation, landing a smack to your thigh that prompted a delicious, ticklish pain to shoot up your leg, and peals of laughter to come falling out your mouth,“will you stop wiggling up there?” 

“Sure thing.” The saccharine words dripped off your tongue before you halted your movements, muscles slackening as you draped your dead weight over his shoulder. 

“Jesus,” He huffed, suddenly exhausted as he had to literally shoulder the burden of your lax body. “Y’know what, just get down.” He said, quickly lowering you to the ground. 

“Joel Miller, you are quite the party pooper.” You chuckled, stumbling to your feet. 

He had stormed into the Tipsy Bison, locking eyes with yours as he pushed past a crush of people, causing your lips to twist into a smirk and your heartbeat to quicken in time with the beat of the warbling song blasting from the jukebox. He had barely given you time to shoot off a sly remark before he tossed you over your shoulder and whisked you away, an act much more interesting to you than the drunken conversation you were enjoying with your friends. 

“I did not poop any parties.” He said, watching you stifle a laugh as you walked beside him. “Maybe you don’t recall, but we’re on patrol together tomorrow, and I am not gonna play nurse to you when you’re hungover on a horse.” 

When Tommy had first put the both of you on patrol together, he had thought his brother was pulling some sick joke. He probably was. You had taken a particular interest in Joel whenever you saw him around Jackson, never failing to deliberately bump into him and engage in some teasing that would render Tommy helpless with laughter as Joel stood on, unamused. 

As much as Joel hated to admit it, and as much as he felt he really was being driven crazy on his patrols with you, he had almost come around to it.

The gleam of your smile in those dark forests as you told him corny jokes around a crackling fire. Like sunlight peeking out from behind a dark cloud.

He pushed the thought away. Maybe you really were driving him to the brink. 

“Please,” you rolled your eyes, gait leisurely besides his focused march down the road, “I’ve been hungover on that horse before and you never had to baby me. I just think you hate fun.” 

“I do not ‘hate fun’.” He said, his monotonous drawl sounding pretty fun-hating, “...But maybe you were having too much fun. ‘Specially with that boy of yours.” 

He regretted letting the words slip as soon as he said them, but he couldn’t deny the flare of heat that simmered under his skin when he entered the bar to see you laughing your head off with one of the guys that always seemed to trail after you around Jackson. 

“Oh. My. God.” You said, a thin sheen of dust rising around your boots as you screeched to a halt. 

“What?” Joel said, heart pounding as he whipped his head around.

“You’re jealous!” 

“I am not-“ Joel spluttered, heat blooming across his collar. 

“I’m walking home with a green-eyed monster!” You grabbed him by the jaw, and Joel prayed you couldn’t feel the heat from his cheeks searing the pads of your fingers. You turned his head, prompting him to look in your eyes. He had to fight off the urge to melt against your touch under the intensity of your stare, his jaw clenching beneath your fingers.

“Nope. Not green. Still shit brown.” You said, killing the moment with a grin. 

Joel shook you off, quickening his pace rather unsteadily as you continued to walk beside him. 

“You’re obsessed with me. First, you’re carrying me out of the Tipsy Bison, and next, you’ll be carrying me over the threshold after our wedding." You laughed.

That made even more heat blossom in his cheeks, and he tried to push that image out of his mind as he cleared his throat, biting his tongue as he let you carry on.

“Don’t be too jealous, Joel.” You purred, slipping your arm through his, nuzzling up to him in a way that made blood roar in his ears, “That guy’s not really my type. I like older guys.” You placed extra emphasis on the last phrase, making Joel’s head swim. 

After making him squirm under your gaze for a couple seconds, you burst into laughter.

“As mean as you look, you get flustered so easily. It’s adorable.” You said, punctuating the sentence with a coddling pout. 

“I’m glad you think it’s funny.” Joel grumbled, eyes trained straight ahead. 

“It’s hilarious.” 

Your footsteps trailed off as the both of you arrived in front of his house, staring at its squat silhouette in the dark. 

You turned to grin at him, Joel shooting a sideways glance at you, debating whether or not to take the bait. 

“What?” He mumbled, taking the bait. 

“Miller, you devil. You could’ve at least bought me a drink before bringing me back to your place.” 

He rolled his eyes, walking up the porch steps as you trailed behind him. 

“Your place is all the way on the other side of Jackson. So you can either sleep here tonight, or we’ll spend another hour walking around in the dark.” He said, opening the door. 

“Excuses, excuses.” You clucked your tongue, shaking your head with false disapproval, "As much as I'd like that long, romantic, moonlit walk, I am getting a little sleepy. I'll stay the night."

He held the door open for you, gesturing for you to head inside, a motion that you simply returned with an expectant stare.

“What?” He said, trying not to shift under your gaze.

“Aren’t you gonna carry me over the threshold?” 

“Get your ass in the damn house.” 

Your laughter rang, clear as a bell, through the sparse rooms of his house as you kicked off your boots, flouncing up the stairs as if you were right at home. 

He heard the sound of his shower turning on and the syrupy hum of your voice over the splash of water.

He reached for your shoes, overturned and muddied, before straightening them and placing them next to his. Staring at the both of them next to each other, your voice ringing in his ears as you sang a discordant melody in the shower, a flicker of strange emotion shot through him. 

The realisation he wouldn’t mind picking up after you, putting your shoes next to his. They would have a place next to each other, where they belonged, whenever you came home. 

The realisation that he wouldn’t mind if your voice filled up every room in the house, where once he thought he was content with silence. 

As he poured a glass of water for you and began carrying it up to his bedroom, he realised he wouldn’t mind bringing up a glass of water for you every night, and a cup of coffee every morning. 

“I’m going insane.” He muttered to himself, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. 

“You decent?” He called out, knocking on his bedroom door. 

“Hardly ever. Come in!” You sang. 

The scent of his soap hung in the air, clinging to your skin. You grinned at him, a soft glow haloing you from his bedside lamp as you towelled water out of your hair, one of his flannels hanging off your frame.  

“Is that mine?” He swallowed, the words flying out of his mouth so quickly they almost sounded accusatory. 

“Yeah.” You turned to look at his furrowed brow. “What? I can give it back to you if you want.” You said, beginning to unbutton it.

He averted his eyes, that familiar heat shooting under his skin again. “Jesus- just- you can keep it on.” 

You burst into laughter as Joel rubbed the back of his heated neck.

“You can sleep in my bed tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch.” He mumbled. 

“Thank you, Joel.” You whispered, your sincerely grateful, soft voice sending his walls tumbling down.

He cut his eyes at you one more time, a vision in his worn, old flannel, before making a move to leave. 

You cleared your throat, the noise exaggeratedly loud in the quiet room. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

He looked at you, his deep brown eyes wide in confusion, a furrow set in his brow. 

“Aren’t you gonna tuck me in?” 

His cheeks reddened as he stared at you, swallowing thickly. 

Hiding his trepidation behind an exasperated eye roll, he crossed the room. His hand, the skin rough in contrast to the soft blanket, pulled the fabric over your body, covering you. You smiled up at him, that evil glint in your eye that drove him crazy shining up at him. 

“Goodnight kiss?” You whispered with feigned innocence, glancing up at him through thick lashes. 

“Christ.” He whispered, heartbeat pounding in his ears, his heart somewhere between wanting, annoyance and restraint. 

“Please?” You whispered, lips turning up at the corners into the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. 

He felt his resolve crumble to pieces, and he couldn’t resist. He leaned in, heartbeat kicking in his chest as he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek. 

He felt dizzy as he felt your hot breath against his ear, the soft skin of your cheek nuzzling into the scruff on his cheek. 

“Oh, c’mon,” you whispered, lips ghosting his cheek, “you can do better than that, can’t you?” 

He melted against your touch, barely able to formulate a smart retort before he felt your teeth digging into his cheek. 

“Jesus!” He recoiled, the bite radiating with a dull pain. 

“That’s for pooping my party, Miller.” Laughter bubbled from your lips as you watched him run his fingers over the grooves your teeth left in his skin. 

“You’re fucking crazy.” His wounded tone just made you even more amused, your smile growing on your face. 

“Don’t sulk.” You pouted, hand reaching up to skim a thumb across his cheek, and he couldn’t help leaning into your touch. “Let me kiss it better.” 

He let you press a kiss to the quickly fading bite mark, his head swimming as your tongue darted out, giving him a playful lick before you laughed against his skin, breath fanning out over his cheek. 

He turned his head, forehead pressed against yours as his nose brushed yours, his eyes screwed shut.

“You’re driving me crazy.” He mumbled. 

“I know.” 

He pressed his lips to yours, that strange, floaty feeling he had felt downstairs washing over him. You held him close, fingers entangling in the soft curls at the nape of his neck as you pulled him onto the bed. 

Lying on his back, he let you press your palms against his shoulders. He stared at the ceiling, feeling barely there, as if he could have just slipped away, your hands the only thing pinning him to earth. He felt it with every kiss you pressed to his lips, when your lips ghosted the line of his jaw, his neck. You were everywhere, and he wanted to keep it that way. 

“All better?” You said, voice barely audible over the roar of blood in his ears. 

“Yes.” 

“Y’know,” you whispered, tracing the line of his jaw with your lips, “I just realised something.“ You looked down at him, the smile that meant trouble returning to your face. “We have a really early morning tomorrow. Goodnight, Joel!”

Just like that, you had rolled off of him and turned off the light, plunging the both of you into darkness. He laid there, barely registering what had just happened, his body already missing your warmth. 

He turned to look at you, your face slackened with sleep as your breath evened out, completely calm in the embrace of sleep as his heart still pounded in his chest, giddy as he turned back to stare at the ceiling. 

He was definitely going crazy.

[leaentries]

through it all | luke hughes

summary: when the comments start getting to her, luke is there to show his girl he'll be there through it all.

warnings: rude comments, body shaming, fat shaming, angst (w/ a happy ending), swearing

wc: forgot to keep track but a lot

The constant ticking of the clock seemed to mock you, counting away the time wasted reading those insufferable words. You typically veered away from the comment section altogether, but something about the empty apartment weakened your resolve. 

Being away on a roadie, Luke didn’t understand the trouble that plagued your mind. He always made sure to make you feel like the only girl in the world, so why was it that as soon as he leaves, you fall apart? He didn’t understand how the words of others held so much power over you, how they held you hostage. 

You sat, legs tucked under you, holding your phone with shaky hands. Something in you had hoped for better. Maybe people changed their views about you and everything that came with. Maybe you could finally open social media without the constant fear of ridicule. Yet, you were proved wrong once again. The comments hadn’t changed and neither did the way your throat contracted in disgust and embarrassment.

User4562: still can’t believe luke would date someone like her

Fan93: get this whale outta here pls 

Hater365: luke is so much hotter then her?? shes not even pretty??

User67:  this is kinda embarrassing for her tbh

Fan42: girl needs to learn what the gym is asap

Hater6783: pretty sure her thighs are bigger than his…

User3421: comments did not disappoint💀

Hot tears filled your eyes as the negativity swarmed your senses. How could people be so cruel? Deep sobs wracked through your body as you let your phone fall to the couch. You grabbed the nearest pillow, pulling it into your chest.

You felt suffocated. The weight of being in the spotlight and the tense wave of hate was too much. You couldn’t fully understand why people were so bothered by your appearance or the fact that Luke had chosen you.

Though, in all fairness, you couldn’t grasp why Luke chose you, either. He had a roster of beautiful, fit women at his beck and call, yet he was bouncing his way home to you every night. No matter how many times he expressed his love, it was too big for you to comprehend.

So, there you sat, mascara running down your face, sobbing into a throw pillow because random people on the internet decided you weren’t good enough.

❥.

You must have fallen asleep at some point through your cries, because as your swollen eyes managed to peek open, you noticed the sunlight beginning to shine through your living room curtains. For a peaceful moment, you forgot the previous night’s turmoil. You let yourself fully wake up, slowly sitting to adjust to your surroundings.

Confusion plagued you as you realized you were on the couch. Your face fell with gloom as reality hit you like a truck. Swarms of comments flashed in your mind once more, diminishing any energy you had for the day.

Although, as you slumped back into the cushions, you heard the front door unlock.

Shit.

You grabbed your phone to check the time, only to be met with a black screen. Your phone must have died during the night, rendering your alarm to go pick up Luke, pointless. Standing from the couch, you rush to the kitchen to make yourself look busy.

Luke swung the door open, trudging in with all his bags.

“Hey angel, I thought you were picking me up?” He chuckled, “You’re lucky Dawson lives in our complex, or I would have been stranded.”

“Yeah-” You cleared your throat trying to will away the tightness, “Yeah, I’m sorry, Lukey. My phone died last night.”

Luke shook his head at your forgetfulness. He quickly set down his bags by the kitchen table, noticing the state of the living room.

His brows furrowed, “Did you sleep in the living room last night?”

Panic flooded deep in your stomach. You should have known Luke would get suspicious. After all, he knew how picky you were about where you slept.

Scrambling for a lie, you responded with a quick, “I was watching a movie and fell asleep.”

Luke walked over to where you busied yourself by cleaning the leftover dishes. You sucked in a breath, hoping you didn’t appear too disheveled. Ducking your head closer to your chest, you tried to look anywhere else but Luke’s face as he took to the spot next to you.

“Y/n?” Luke’s voice came in a soft whisper.

When he didn’t get a response, he gently reached to grab the faucet handle, turning it till the water trickled to a halt. Grabbing the dish towel nearby, he also helped dry your hands while you sat limply.

In truth, you were too afraid to speak, or move. You were afraid that if you looked into Luke’s sorrowful eyes, you’d crack. You’d finally show the version of yourself that the internet sees, the version that he’d hate.

Luke set down the towel, his eyes seeking your downcast face. “Y/n, baby? Please talk to me.”

You shook your head slightly, pulling away as his hand brushed up your arm.

“D-did I do something?” Luke began to worry, he’s never seen you act like this, “Was I gone too long? I thought we facetimed enough, but I can try to call you more.”

It broke your heart to hear him. The simple fact that he assumed it was himself and wanted to fix it. He was too good for you, the internet saw it, you saw it. So naturally, it was only a matter of time before he did too.

“No,” You let out a deep sigh, “It’s not you, Luke.”

He swallowed thickly, nerves beginning to take over his senses. “Then what is it, angel? Please, I just want to help you.”

Hot tears blurred in your eyes, he finally broke your resolve.

Luke immediately pulled you into his chest, his calloused hands moving to cradle the back of your head as you sobbed. He was at a loss. Not knowing what the correct thing to do was, he held you tighter. Luke was prepared to hold you forever if it meant you’d stop crying. He could swear a piece of his heart dies every time he sees you cry.

“Shh, shh,” He soothed as he stoked your hair, “Angel, it’s okay. I promise, I’m here.”

You gripped his hoodie, scared he’d disappear from under your fingertips.

The both of you remained in each other’s embrace until you found your breath regulating. Pulling away, you swore Luke winced when he saw your bloodshot, puffy eyes.

“C’mon, let’s go to the couch.” He guided you carefully, making sure to help you get comfortable enough to talk to him. Once you had settled into his side, he finally nudged you to start talking.

“If you’re ready, will you tell me what’s wrong, baby?”

Deciding to go against your gut will to hide the truth, you pulled out your phone, now freshly charged. You shakily opened up your social media, hitting into the comment section.

“Here,” You placed the phone into Luke’s hand, “Just scroll.”

Upon beginning to read the first few comments, you could see Luke’s face visibly grow stern and frustrated. He bit the inside of his cheek as angry tears welled in his eyes. Luke felt every muscle in his body tense with hatred and fury towards the lowlifes that would dare to say such vile things about his girlfriend.

He shut the phone off and tossed it away, not being able to handle reading another word of the electric slander on your screen.

It took a moment for Luke to compose himself, taking deep breaths and debating on how to approach the situation.

Now, of course Luke had grown used to people writing heavily opinionated articles and hate comments about him. Hell, he even got used to seeing it about his brothers. But something he never considered was the impact it would have on you.

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyes shot up at Luke’s apology.

Why is he apologizing?

He had his head down, fingers picking at each other. He looked guilty, as if, somehow, he caused all of this to happen.

“What?”

Luke wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“I’m sorry, this is my fault.”

You shook your head sternly, “No it’s not, Luke. It’s mine” Your voice went quiet.

Luke slowly looked up to see fresh tears cascading in taunting rivers down your cheeks.

“It’s my fault for being not good enough.”

He tried to protest, but was only silenced by your words.

“It’s so hard trying to be perfect all the time. Especially when all I’m getting is ridicule for living my life. It’s not fair that I have to have my head on a constant swivel because some person decided my body wasn’t up to standard. It’s not fair that I have to wake up, everyday, worried you’ll realize you deserve so much more than me.”

Luke’s own tears rolled down his face at your confession. He couldn’t quite get a handle on how long you have felt this way.

His beautiful girl.

His heart shattered, “I- I don’t understand.”

“There’s nothing to understand, Luke.” You interrupted, “It’s just the way it is. People who look like you don’t love people who look like me.”

His face grew grim.

“No, Y/n. What I don’t understand is how you can think like that. I mean, fuck, don’t you realize you’re every thought I have before bed. And every breath of air I breathe when I wake up. I don’t know who these “people” are that you’re referring to, but I’m not one of them.”

Luke took your face in his hands, “You are my girl. And if I have to spend the rest of our lives proving that to you, then I will.”

There wasn’t much you could say through the thickness of emotion. You threw your arms around Luke, his own coming to dig into your plushy hips.

“Thank you, Lukey.” You mumbled into his neck.

“For what?”

“For loving me.”

“Always.”

Maybe you were enough for him.

[moonlight-prose]

✧ PRESSURE ✧

a/n: we have officially reached the end of week one and we're ending it with a bang! i feel like it's mandatory i do a threesome fic with these two every kinktober. but i can't help it. they're so perfect for this dynamic. the amount of love i go for my hangman fic is overwhelming so thank you to everyone. i hope you enjoy this one just as much!

day eight - double penetration + threesome | kinktober 2023

summary: "you were the gravity keeping these pilots on the ground, the reason they came home after every mission, after every training and debacle. you were it for them. their lifeline."

word count: 2k+

pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x f!reader x jake 'hangman' seresin

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, double penetration, threesome, assplay, ass eating, anal, overstimulation, bradley and jake being sweethearts, they're in love y'all, m/m.

So this is what death must feel like. What leaving this earthly plane was at the end of things when you took your last breath—leaving behind everything you’d ever known. There was no sure way for you to tell. No way for you to understand that what you were experiencing was like that, because you could barely make sense of where you were. Of what your name was.

His teeth dug into your shoulder, hands spread along your hips as he took you apart with ease. You were on top of him, pressed into his body until there was no space between you and him, but that’s what you wanted. What you craved. His lips met yours, silencing the loud whimpers that echoed in the room as his hands slid to your ass, spreading you obscenely.

“You want it don’t you honey?” he cooed in your ear, his fingers digging into your flesh, keeping you open for the second pair of eyes that burned into you.

The eyes that you knew so well you could practically see them yourself. Bradley knelt behind you on the bed, watching as you sunk onto Jake’s cock, fucking yourself on it in the hopes of getting either of them to move. But they held you steady. Keeping you still as they kept the pace—ever so patient and diligent in their nature. You understood that came with being a pilot, the strength to keep yourself poised and ready, but fuck if you didn’t hate it when it came to this.

“Please,” you whimpered, hips pressing down—Jake’s cock slipping in even further.

“Please huh?” He dipped his hand even further, sliding into the slick that practically leaked out and around his cock. “Look at our girl Rooster. She’s leakin’ for us.”

You pressed your face into his neck, your body responding to his words in a way that should have made you feel ashamed. Except there was that small niggling feeling that bloomed in your chest, forcing its way to the surface with ease. Pride. You liked knowing he was unable to stop staring; that while they rendered you a mess, you did the same for them.

They could keep their composure all they wanted, but when it came down to it. They would fall to their knees for you with a single look—pleading to feel you like this. Which is why you fell into it with ease; pressing yourself into Jake’s hands and allowing him to spread you even wider—giving Bradley an even better look at what awaited him. You heard the audible grunt he let out, the bed dipping as he shifted, his head falling down and forehead pressing into your back.

“So pretty for us baby,” he said, awe tinging his voice, his breath hot against your skin.

“I—” You wanted to ask them to keep going, to beg them, but Bradley’s tongue sliding along the base of Jake’s cock gathering your slick silenced you.

It sent heat streaking up your spine, your toes curling at the sensation. A choked sound stuck to your throat, muffled by Jake’s shoulder, but they heard it nonetheless. His tongue slid up higher, pressing against the hole they’d only teased before. The place that they had yet to claim as theirs. You unconsciously pressed back into it, asking for more as he worked your slick and spit along you—making a mess with his mouth.

“She likes that,” Jake grunted, feeling your walls clamp down around his aching cock. “Keep licking at her and she’ll cum.”

“That right baby?” Bradley asked, sinking his teeth into your ass. “Like my tongue back here?”

A sob echoed in the room, your eyes rolling back when he continued, pressing a finger against the tight ring. He moaned audibly into you, spitting where his finger was now knuckle deep, pressing on something eviscerating. You shook against Jake’s body, your hips pressing down and taking him until the hair at the base of his cock dragged perfectly along your clit. And that was all it took to bring you to a sharp end.

“Oh—fuck—” You cried, gushing around Jake’s cock as the pressure snapped in two, flooding your body with that sensational bliss.

Jake groaned, his hands pressing you tightly to him as he shoved his hips up—pushing you even higher. “There you go honey.”

You were completely unaware that Bradley had added another finger, stretching you gently as you came down from your high. But then it began to build again. That slow steady heat that trickled through your veins, singeing your nerves and stopping your brain altogether. It threatened to break you, to completely drag you beneath the surface of awareness. You pushed back against him, a guttural moan falling from your lips as you moved, begging him for more.

“Think she’s ready?” Jake asked, watching as Bradley sunk another finger into you, nearly turning you immobile.

He hummed in pleasure, spreading a hand up your spine and soothing you with soft strokes of his thumb. “Nearly there. Yeah baby? You almost ready to take me?”

A garbled echo of what they assumed to be yes came from you as they continued to take you apart. Your body shaking from the overstimulation of your first orgasm never truly coming to an end. You were left on the precipice of pleasure—about to be dragged over again, but then he pulled away. His fingers disappeared altogether, ripping a broken whine from your lips—your hips chasing the feeling.

You heard him chuckle, heard the way he stroked his cock—spreading your slick and his spit along the length. Which made you want him even more. Jake’s hands slid up and down your back, his lips pressing along your throat as he shifted. Slowly sitting up with you in his lap—his mouth finding yours and swallowing the soft moan you let out. At this point you weren’t able to move on your own. They had turned you into a pliable form beneath their touches and you fell into it—gave them everything they could have wanted, because they did the same to you.

“He’s gonna be gentle,” Jake said in a low tone against your ear. “Gonna take it slow with you.”

“I will,” Bradley promised against your shoulder, his hand sliding between your bodies and cupping your breast. Thumb running along your sensitive nipple. “Tell me when you’re ready baby.”

You let your head fall back against his shoulder, nodding slowly as you blinked up at him—coherency no longer a part of your skills. Bradley smiled sweetly, his thumb curling around your chin and bringing your lips to his. Licking slowly into your mouth—tasting the desire on your tongue and returning it in kind. They loved you. That much you knew. But this was something else. A flickering feeling that began to grow the longer you were there, wrapped in their arms.

“Pretty,” he mumbled, notching his cock at your backside, his thumb continuing to run a soothing circle along your chin, keeping your eyes locked on him. “So fucking tight.”

The breath caught in your throat, fingers digging into Jake’s shoulder when Bradley began to press into you. Thrusting into you with small movements and giving you time to adjust with every inch. Originally you believed this would be enough to break you, but you were wrong. It was earth-shattering. A sensation that shoved you so high you nearly screamed. But the sound was trapped in your chest, your mouth falling open silently as he panted against your cheek.

“You’re doing good,” he grunted, biting gently at your cheek.

Jake moaned, his head falling against your shoulder when your cunt tightened around him, nearly strangling his cock. “Fuck honey. Rooster ‘m not gonna last man.”

“Almost there,” he gritted, pushing forward a bit more until his hips met your ass.

And that’s when you screamed. Your voice finally back the second he sank to the hilt, filling you in a way that had your body shaking. Pleasure struck your body with such a strong wave you felt light-headed. The breath left your lungs faster than you could get it. You felt yourself gush, felt the wetness trickle down your thighs, but it barely registered in your brain that you were coming. That your body was wound so tight because of it.

“Fuck, fuck,” Jake spit, thrusting up into you and shoving you even higher. He bit down on your shoulder, hands grasping on your hips as he fought against finishing.

“You good?” Bradley asked over your shoulder.

“Yeah. Just…damn.” He turned his attention towards you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “How are you honey?”

Finally after so long, you managed to speak. “G-good,” you whispered hoarsely. “Feel good.”

“Yeah?” He thrusted up gently, watching with a grin as your mouth fell open, your hands scrambling for purchase against his chest. “You like being filled with us? That it?”

“Ah!” You nodded, nails biting into his skin as Bradley shifted, meeting Jake’s thrust with one of his own.

It was a strange sensation to feel both of them at once, nearly touching one another but still apart. Yet that’s not what drove you back to the very precipice of finishing. It was the sound of Bradley dragging Jake closer, his lips sealing over the man’s with ease—tongue licking into his mouth. Your walls fluttered at the sound, chest heaving as they sped up slightly, their bodies pressing you between them so tightly you could barely move.

“Can feel you baby,” Bradley whispered hotly against your ear. “You want to cum again? I know you do.”

“Yes—” Your eyes rolled back when his hand fell down to your clit, swiping against it gently. “Hng—FUCK!”

As if on cue, your body spasmed, walls clamping down on both of them and sending you reeling. Another gush of wetness spilled along your body, coating Jake’s stomach and the tops of his thighs as he fucked himself into you rapidly. You could feel it. The way they were both holding onto their releases by the very skin of their teeth, their nails digging into your skin with enough pressure to draw blood.

With a hoarse shout, Bradley spilled into you, his hips slamming into your ass with a speed that shoved Jake even deeper. A choked sob caught in your throat, your body arching into Jake’s as he quickly followed Bradley. Spurting into you with a cry, his body falling against yours—face pressing into your heaving chest. It was a mess of pleasure, the three of you now in shambles.

“That was…” Bradley panted, his chest pressed tightly to your back, lips trailing against your shoulder.

Jake softly whined when he pulled out of you slowly, seeing the way the sticky release spilled from you. “Never seen anything better than that.”

Bradley chuckled. “I think we broke her.”

“She’s still here.” Jake kissed your lips gently, his hand pressing against your stomach softly. “C’mon baby. Open those pretty eyes for us.”

You responded to his words, sinking into Bradley’s hold a bit more as your eyes fluttered open. They were glassy and dazed, the fucked out look on your face more prominent than it had ever been before. And that made them smile. Hell you could barely form a single word in your head, but you’d never felt better in your life. Your body sluggish as they moved you to lay down—Bradley pulling out as Jake grabbed a warm cloth.

“You want a bath baby?” he asked, his eyes roving along your body to make sure you were still intact—still okay after something so extreme.

You nodded, curling your fingers into his hair slowly. “That sounds good,” you rasped.

He grinned, hands sliding up your waist. “Whatever you want, baby. It’s yours.”

There was no doubt that he meant every word. That you came before anything. You were the gravity keeping these pilots on the ground, the reason they came home after every mission, after every training and debacle. You were it for them. Their lifeline. So when Bradley gathered you in his arms, Jake coming up behind him with a glass of water and your favorite silk robe in hand, you believed him.

Whatever you wanted.

Even if what you wanted was both of them. At once.

[vienssunshine]

Beg me please to let you in me

pairing: Yuuta Okkotsu x fem!reader nsfw: dom!reader, sub!Yuuta word count: 1.6k author's note: last work from the poll! the title from the song "vegas" by joseline hernandez. description: after a long mission, all Yuuta wants is you.

Yuuta is assigned harder and longer missions due to his position as the second strongest sorcerer of the modern age. Though he lives to protect others from curses, he hates to be sent away, especially for extended periods of time, because it keeps him away from you. And god does he miss you and your touch.

After a three-week mission–or a three week deprivation–it doesn’t take long for Yuuta to find your room. You let him in when he knocks on your door all pent-up and needy, but decide to not give him what he wants, at least not before teasing him a bit.

Propped up on some pillows against the headboard of your bed, you grin down at the sorcerer nestled between your thighs. Yuuta is sloppily licking his tongue over your glistening cunt, whining as he tries to cope with the aching erection straining through his pants. His desire is so powerful it’s painful, but you won’t let him touch himself, only permitting him to eat you out, knowing it turns him on even more. 

“Please,” Yuuta whimpers, looking up from your folds. The lower half of his face is shining from your wetness as he stares up at you, sad eyes glazed over with lust. “Please let me inside you.” 

You lift your chin up, enjoying the pleading expression spread across his flushed face. God, he needs you. All the more reason to make him wait. “I don’t think you’re asking nicely enough.”

Your response pulls a frustrated whine from Yuuta’s throat, but you have none of it, simply telling him to show you how much he wants it while pushing his face back down to your wet cunt. 

He moans as he opens his mouth to lick and suck at your hot flesh. It’s difficult for him to reconcile how having his mouth against your cunt, feeling you quake and jolt, feels so good and how, at the same time, it’s making his rock-hard erection ache more and more every second it remains neglected. 

Your fingers knot into his black hair as he worships your wet folds with his tongue and mouth, and the sensation pulls a pretty whine from his throat. 

“Mmph-s’good...need you-”

His hands tighten around your thighs and he presses his eyes shut, enduring the hot lust rolling through his poor body. It’s been so long since he’s seen you, and you’re so pretty, and the noises you make when he licks you—he can’t take it anymore. 

Yuuta begins to buck his hips against the mattress, just desperate to relieve some of the ache.

It takes you a second to notice—Yuuta is very good with his tongue, especially when pushed to his breaking point—but when you do, you move back and place your foot against his shoulder, pushing him away from you.

“M’sorry,” he says, breathing heavily, “You’re just so…it’s been so long…” His head drops down. He can’t even function anymore; the lust overtaking him has rendered his body and mind useless. All he can do is beg for you to make him feel better.

It may be time to show him some mercy. 

You tilt your head as you knead your foot into the strong muscle of his shoulder. “Sounds like you want me to take care of you.”

He looks back up at you, desperation radiating off of his shaking body. “Please fuck me,” Yuuta whispers. He presses a kiss to the ankle near his face. “Please.”

You suppose he’s earned it. Aside from that little slip-up—pleasuring himself without permission—he’s been so good. And he worked so hard on his mission. It’s funny how you pretend the fact that your hole is crying out to be filled by him isn’t a factor in your decision. 

Dropping your foot from his shoulder, you lean forward to cup Yuuta's face. Of course he melts into your touch, pressing his warm cheek into the palm of your hand—so needy for the slightest show of affection. He’s begun to rut into the mattress once more, pressing the bulge in his underwear to the firm but soft surface, desperate for friction that can offer any small bit of relief from his overwhelming desire. You’ll let him get away with it this time. 

You use your hand on his face to guide him forward as you lean back, bringing him on top of you until you feel the erection straining through his briefs press against your wet cunt. His gasp from the contact is silenced when you pull him into a messy kiss.

Your grip on his jaw keeps his face to yours as you slip your tongue into his mouth. He moans, and your other hand travels down to his clothed length, beginning to gently stroke it. His underwear is wet with precum. 

“Please, I can’t-I can’t take it anymore-”

“You’re doing great, Yuuta,” you purr, “I’m gonna make you feel better, okay?”

He exhales, pained. “Okay,” he chokes out. 

“Now take these off,” you say, tugging at his waistband. 

He sits back and they’re clumsily pulled off before you can blink. You’re greeted with his fully erect dick with a reddened tip that’s leaking precum. His arousal looks painful, no wonder he was so quick to beg you for help. 

You look up to Yuuta to see a deep blush burning on his cheeks. He brings his hands up to cover his face. 

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Yuuta,” you say, tugging at his forearms,  “C’mon, let me see your pretty face.” 

Though it takes him a second, he listens, dropping his hands down into his lap. “So much better,” you say, running your fingers through his black hair, his eyes fluttering at the sensation. Then you ease him back on top of you and wrap your hand around his length—it’s throbbing underneath your touch—and align it with your wet hole. He squirms, having to fight against the strong urge his body has to enter you immediately.

“Can…can I…?” Yuuta asks. It’s impressive he can form a question, he’s barely able to think straight.

“You can put it inside,” you respond, smiling up at the nervous boy. 

He takes a deep breath before bringing his hips forward and finally, finally pushing himself inside of you. Your entrance offers little resistance, wetness slicking your insides so Yuuta’s full length slips into you with only one thrust. His breath hitches and the arms holding him up above you shake, almost giving out at the blissful sensation. 

“Feeling better?” you ask, eyes roaming over his expression. His face is contorted in pleasure, eyebrows pressed together and jaw clenched after only one stroke. 

“Feels…so good.” He speaks carefully, as if even just describing the sensation could make him cum. He doesn't move after he realizes how close he already is, trying to regain control over himself. Only, you want to keep feeling him. 

“You can move, y’know,” you tease. 

“I know…just need a second,” he says. 

He exhales sharply as he brings his hips back, dragging his length through your gummy walls and then pushing into them once more. His fingers tighten around the sheets by your head, his hands planted on either side of you, his face hovering above yours. 

Typically, you like to ride him, to pin him down with your hips and have him writhe in pleasure underneath you as you bounce up and down on him. But you might like this even more, watching how he winces and whimpers when he’s the one moving himself inside of you, the tight hug of your walls just too much.

It might have been better if you were the one in charge of the pace as, though he's moving now, he's slow and hesitant, taking frequent pauses. Even after you’ve teased him so much despite him already being so pent-up from his mission, he wants to do the impossible and last longer for you.

“It’s okay, Yuuta,” you say, brushing some hair out of his face, “I know you want to cum.”

“But-” he protests until he cuts himself off with a gasp when you grab his hips, encouraging him to thrust in and out of you more quickly. 

“You’ve been so good,” you tell him, “Makin’ me feel so good…I think you deserve a reward.”

He groans his response, the sound thickly coated with arousal. He has been so good, hasn’t he? He does deserve a reward. Yuuta buries his face into your neck, wrapping his arms around your body as he humps himself into you.

You gasp, he’s being rougher now, plunging his dick in and out of you with a force that contrasts the way he’s whining so sweetly in your ear, occasionally moaning about how much he loves you. Your hands travel up from your hips to rest on his back, pulling him closer into you, wanting to feel him more and deeper. 

“Fuck…love you…s’much.” His words are hard to understand, mostly cut off by moans, but you’re able to make out that he appreciates being back with you. 

His arms cradle your head, fingers tangled in your hair, as he continues to rut into you, chasing the orgasm he’s been so desperately craving all those lonely nights away from you. 

“M’gonna cum, gonna cum deep inside you,” he says, hips losing their rhythm, his neediness fully consuming him as he fucks himself into you.

“Uh huh, cum inside me like a good boy,” you coo into his ear. 

He moans, and you feel his cock twitch inside you, shooting out white ropes of cum. Yuuta whines, continuing to thrust himself into you with a few last uneven strokes. Then, utterly exhausted after his mission and your ruthless teasing, he collapses on top of you, hot pants fanning against your neck.

“Did so good,” you say, stroking his black hair. You know the sensation of cumming can be a lot for him, so you soothe him as best you can as he comes down from such a powerful orgasm.

He melts into you, the full weight of his shaking body on top of yours.

“I’m never going on a mission longer than a week again,” he murmurs into your neck, “Miss you too much.”

[strwbmei]

hii! I’m quite new to your blog, but I’ve read some of your fics!

something’s been on my mind for quite some time and like.. furina fucking fem reader against the wall. I feel like she’d be teasing her little gf while making her beg for more.

can you make a fic about it please? thankyou!!

contains: transfem!furina, dom!furina, humiliation, cock worship, creampie, blowjob, reader is a bit feisty at first, dirty talk, cunt slapping, ass slapping, overstimulation, edging, name calling, badly translated french words, furina is a mean dom but the sex itself isn't really rough, not proofread, maybe ooc

pairing(s): pre-established furina x reader

a/n: first of all, i am so sorry anon. this fic ended up going way off-track from what you requested, but i hope you'll like it nonetheless!

Honestly, you're not sure where such a petite woman got the strength to lift you up and fuck you against the wall, but god, did you love and hate it at the same time. This position allowed her cock to hit angles you didn't even know was possible prior and render you into a moaning mess with little to no effort, and yet, it also allowed her to lord that fact over you while you're unable to do anything but endure her incessant teasing.

While the strength of her arms was evident with how she held you up with ease, it was nothing compared to the sheer force of her thrusts. Admittedly, Furina was on the smaller side of the scale, but her technique more than made up for it. Every time she moved her hips, her cockhead just barely grazed against your sweet spot, enough to drive you crazy but not enough to get you near orgasm.

She knew. She knew that you knew. It showed with the teasing smirk she wore on her face as she fucked you dumb. Your mouth was too busy moaning her name to protest just as your hands were too busy clawing at her back to give her a signal of some sort, not that she would ever listen, of course. You were powerless like this, and Furina loved it. The only thing you could do was try to glare at her through half-lidded and tear-stained eyes in hopes that she'd get the message.

And get the message, she did. "Is something the matter, mon chéri?" She asks, her smug expression turning into what looked like concern for you. It was an act that would have fooled anybody else, but you knew Furina much too well to fall for her many facades. She slowed down her thrusts, making you whine. You can see her let a sadistic grin slip at this. "Ah, right. I'm sure a slut like you was only telling me to go faster." Before you could even shake your head in denial, she started going at an even faster pace, effectively edging you even more in the process. The overwhelming pleasure and stimulation burned so good throughout your whole body. You hated how she could make even the most cruel acts make you feel like you were seeing stars.

What she wanted wasn't that challenging look on your face, no. She wanted you to beg; force the filthiest words out of that pretty little mouth of yours. She wanted a sort of obedience that only you could give her. A type of submissiveness she could only achieve once she broke you down. Maybe, just maybe, if you ask nicely enough, she'll consider giving you what you want. Your girlfriend was usually such a sweet person, gazing at you with eyes filled with nothing but love; yet she fucked you like she absolutely despised you.

"Don't look at me like that, sweetheart... I can't tell what you want if you don't use your words." A faux frown formed on her face because of the expression you had on yours. You were biting down on your lower lip, swallowing the urge to curse at her while your unending frustration shone in your eyes. As irritated as you were at the woman in front of you, you know your place. You know that one wrong move, and she could take away all of the pleasure you were feeling on a whim. It'd be best to do as she says if you plan on cumming at all tonight. "I want you, Furina." She grins devilishly. "Oh? But you already have me, do you not?"

She looked at you with expecting eyes and a wide smile. You know what she wants you to do. She set you down, leaving your legs sore and foreign to the feeling of the floor beneath your feet. The wet 'pop' sound made you realize just how empty you felt without her inside of you. Albeit hesitantly, you turned to her and got on your knees; just like how she trained you to. "P-please fuck me with your cock," you took a deep breath, cheeks flushing as you looked up to meet her predatory gaze. "and fill me up with your warm cum." As the words left your mouth, your stomach churned with both anticipation and a good kind of apprehensiveness that only she could make you feel. "Kneel."

The things you said weren't what pleased her, no. Although the idea is very appealing, what really got her wanting to hurry up and rut into that tight pussy of yours is how pathetic you look when you're begging. All teary-eyed and frustrated, it's obvious you don't want to, but you do anyway. She's more than delighted that you know your place. You do as you're told, ready to use both your mouth and hands to pleasure Furina when she suddenly speaks up, "Ah, ah, ah... No hands, remember?"

Fuck. You thought she'd forget, or at least spare you some slack, but you thought wrong. Just how sadistic can this woman get? She doesn't even try to hide how she thrives off of humiliating you; how willing you are to do even the most shameful of things at her bidding. Your hands rest between your thighs as you kiss the head of her cock, coaxing more precum to come out. You use it as lube to coat her shaft, eagerly taking more of her in your mouth as you bob your head up and down.

It seems your act of obedience and submission gratified her, if the cheeky smile on her face was anything to go by. "Enough. Hands on the wall." She said sternly once her cock stood proud and erect, reinvigorated by newfound lust. You followed her orders, making sure to keep a tight grip on the wall as you already know what's about to happen next.

Or so, you thought until she delivered a harsh slap to your cunt. The action made you yelp in a mixture of pleasure and pain. "Hm. You got wet from saying such vulgar words," If you weren't careful to hold onto the wall for dear life, you're sure you would have lost your balance. "Sometimes I worry about you." She sighs, palming your clit in rough circles as if to ease the very pain that she herself had just caused.

"You're the one who-" As you were about to retort, your words are halted as her cock spears its way into your cunt. It felt so much more... girthier than usual. She wasted no time letting you adjust to her size, immediately rutting her hips in a way that made her cock hit both fast and deep inside of you. "Oh, I'm sorry," she brings down her hand, this time to slap your ass. "Were you trying to say something, mon chéri?" She drew out the last part, as if to tease you for being so helpless in her hold. You had planned on staying silent, but much to your annoyance, she stopped her thrusting completely. It was clear that she wasn't going to continue, lest you answer her question. "N-no..." She smirks.

As time went on, her thrusts proceeded to get sloppier and faster. "Merde... Trying to milk me dry, are you?" She groaned, feeling your walls engulf her fully. "Greedy whore." She slapped your ass again, chuckling. You're reduced to a mumbling mess, barely keeping yourself upright while your knees buckle from the sheer strength of her hips. You can feel her cock twitch inside of you and her heavy balls tighten up, and you take a deep breath knowing what's to come.

Furina moaned lowly as her orgasm came crashing over her, almost at the same time as yours did. Panting heavily, she let her cock stay inside of you as the cum that came out of it seemed endless. You feel so warm and full with her seed filling your womb, and you couldn't be happier. "That's right, take it all... You better not waste a single drop." You can barely feel the sting of the hand bringing itself down on your ass, too focused on trying to keep yourself balanced. "Thank you..." You mumble, too delirious and cockdrunk to keep your dignity in tact.

You involuntarily let out a disappointed whimper as she pulls out of you after what felt like eternity, but all of that disappointment is washed away as she speaks, "Get up, sweetheart. I'm breeding all of your holes tonight."

[kagecreep]

Bloodlust Dreams (RoninxMC)

(KillerChat) Description: You meet Ronin in the alleyway. Kiss or kill? Why not both? (Spoilers for Ronin ending in KC)

Notes: Kiss or Kill is the final option? no. kiss AND kill. we're both going to hell hand in unloveable hand stuck in each others guts CW: extreme gore ig? and YES i know its completely unrealistic for them to survive this let me have my fantasy some dialogue in the beginning was taken from the game cuz obviously. extremely gorey i guess. not the worst but its, um, yeah. my shame bared with gnashing teeth <3

WC: 1.9k (Parts 1 & 2)

━─━────༺༻────━─━

Your skin was splitting at the seams, red hot angered blood, cells dividing and cracking open. Pinned immobile against the dirty wall, many times cleaned of splattered blood splashed with knives and boots and bullets.

"I told you, baby. I'm your little wish fulfillment. I'm what you dream of. Isn't this a story for the ages?" He grinned. "Come on –– tell me what you want! Do you hate me, do you love me? Are you gonna kill me? Or are you kissing me, darling? How much do you feel?"

There was, of course, a reason behind your desire to write about a killer. A hidden longing, founded in the beauty of tearing flesh, sinew and organs, palettes of vein blue and bile green and iron red. Being of somewhat sane mind kept you from ever enacting such things in real life––instead you dreamt of it, slept neck deep in peeled muscles and seeping blood. You wrote about it deliriously. Desirously. 

You didn't know if Ronin realized that; if he knew his game was not corruption but an allowance––permission––for you to give in to what was already there. You supposed the darkness was inside everyone, lurking, that howling beast mourning its captivity, shrieking when its head reared to the light.

Your mouth arrived at his mouth, like destruction, like deliverance, like a dream. He was laughing mad, like you're his plaything, like you're his darling, like he expected no less from you.

That laughter filled up and infected your thoughts, your muscles. You yanked the knife out from beneath your jacket where it lay concealed, pressing the shivering metal against his chest. But it delighted him––his laughter howled in the alley, barking up the brick walls. Cackling over the stains of pooled blood. 

"This is what you want, isn't it?" You hissed, biting at his lips, clawing at his jacket. The pins and zipper, the scissors, ripped at your fingers. "You want me elbow deep in your guts."

"Oh, darling," he seethed through gritted teeth, "only if you'll let me warm my cold little fingers in your aorta."

His hand gripped your hair, digging in and pulling, ripping, tearing. Sanity and skin. You kissed, tearing into his heat, desperate to overwhelm him. But standing above you, towering above, he kept you immobile. The wall of his body gave no mercy. You tried to move him, to pin him instead, to set him helplessly against your will, but his weight pressing in rendered you the prey. Heavier he leaned in, digging your knife into him willfully with his weight. You sucked in a gasp.

"C'mon, don't tell me it was all for show," he said between kisses, dark eyes watching how your attention flitted between the knife and his lips. "You pulled out the knife. Use it."

You kissed harder, pulling at his lips and tongue with your teeth, and in a blinding madness jerked the blade across his abdomen. Wet heat seeped from the wound, dripping through his black shirt and onto you. You moaned at the sensation and shared that hot breath with him, whispering into his mouth. The knife clattered out of your shaking hands.

"Am I pretty now?" You asked, squeezing the blood-soaked shirt and smearing the excess over his face.

His eyes rolled back into his head, a long moan singing from his heart. Darting from his lips, his tongue snaked out, licking the iron taste from your fingers. It curled around your bone, his piercing catching on your knuckle.

"My turn," he whispered with his devilish grin.

Fingers. Claws. Puncturing in, digging in, always consuming in liquid desire to sink within your flesh, inside, inside, inside. His fingers were inside you. He had ripped the protective layer, peeled everything back, and dug his skeleton into yours. He took your breath away. Lucifer and his pale, beating eyes.

"You offered me your heart," he murmured, lips brushing against yours in a moment of sudden gentleness. "I'm just taking what's mine, darlin'."

You laughed. Your lungs sung, collapsing, wheezing as he pushed in deeper. His grin grew wicked, tight and sharp, cackling as your vision went hazy. 

But you were not yet lost.

You pulled him in, claws over his neck, and bit into the soft flesh–-the junction between his throat and bare shoulder. The hot skin gave way and fresh blood spurted from where your teeth punctured, your wide jaws lapping up every pouring rivulet. In your ear a full moan rang from his vocal cords, vibrating in your canines and incisors. You released, letting the blood flow, and kissed open-mouth up to his lips, where you latched onto life once more. 

Foreign skin in your belly, grappling your intestine. Squeezing. You lost the ability to scream. When his grip loosened, your shivering, sweating hand clawed its way down his chest, tore his shirt, and plunged into the heat of his open wound. 

You found yourself staring into the gates of Heaven. Hands warm and sticky, grasping, inundated in Ronin's life-force. Shining, blinding light, like the sun beating down, cool rivers at your feet.

"You think that you corrupt," you whispered, bells ringing in your ears and vision blinded by the ethereal light. "No. You release. Set free. You liberated me, Ronin. You're my divine messenger."

A hitch in his breath, and he withdrew from your guts. Your vision returned from that bleaching light, and you watched his lips tremble, his eyes go wide as his pupil's shrunk.

"My angel of rot," you moaned, pressing the words into his skin through your kisses. "You gonna let me bleed all over you?" You asked, worming up through his stomach, under his lungs and finally, over his heart. "Archangel?"

You squeezed. ~+~

Sex bathed in blood. Well, you weren't sure if it was sex. Neither of you once touched the other's genitals, but you were arm deep in his organs. He was elbow-deep in yours. Maybe it was some sick, divine intervention that allowed you to live beyond that critical moment when he grasped your beating heart. You knew it shouldn't have happened. You shouldn't be standing. And even so, even living past that moment, you shouldn't have followed Ronin home like a ragged dog on a leash.

His room was darker than you realized when you had all those video calls. Through shaded windows, painted lamps, and coloured fairy lights, Ronin doused his room a deep red that bled from the walls and ceiling, pooling on the floor. Everywhere tapes and old vinyls piling up on shelves and tables––the scent of iron mingling with a thick perfume. Despite the visual and olfactory stimulation, your mind could not be torn from a single thought.

He had been gentle with you.

He ripped you open with nails, tore your flesh apart, and his blood was still crusted beneath his fingernails––but his movements within you, sinuous and lithe, warped around your intestines and organs and left no mark. He cradled each organ like an infant's head, weak and fragile, ready to break by his crushing hand.

You had not been so careful. Your actions very nearly gave him a heart attack, but here he was, sitting between your splayed legs, wiping up the last of the blood crusted on your stomach and chest. His eyes remained on his work for the most part, but occasionally drifted up to watch your heavy expression with a smirk. That spark of pride in his eye never left him.

The scar you gave him was even––almost perpendicular to the thick scars just beneath his chest, a pale pink against his white skin. It cut cleanly and sewed cleanly, with little trace of your wretched intrusion. But you––five gnarled points, jagged tearing across your torso where he ripped and gnashed. Like a door forced open, the wood splintered across the floor. You stared at him, absent of the light, and wondered if he realized you would never heal from this. You would never look the same. His at least had the chance to heal, become something pale and fragile. Yours would forever be a tender wound––a rounded, broken halo of Ronin's claws.

He was staring at you now. His ministrations on your stomach had ceased, and all his attention was on your distrait gaze.

"What?" You asked flatly.

"Jus' wondering what's going on in that pretty little head of yours," he said.

At the side of the bed, strewn across the floor, piles of bloodied tissues and cut string occupied the edges of your mind.

"Thinking about what we did," you said, and this time your voice lost its' strength; quiet and diminutive.

"Feeling regret already?" He pouted. "Here I was feeling proud of you."

"Not exactly," you said, looking up to meet his gaze. "I... hm."

Your eyes fell back down to your lap; his knees touching your inner thighs, his hands on your hips, your hands––quiet and diminutive.

"Guess I'm... wondering what you want with me now," you mumbled.

"What I want with you?" He repeated, laughing. "Darlin', I'm not nearly done with you! What makes you think that was the end? I took you to my home, didn't I? Tenderly nursed your wounds like the lovers do? Isn't that what you wanted?"

Your brows knitted, furrowed together.

"I wanted your blood on my hands."

"And you got it," he murmured, leaning in. "Doesn't that satiate you at all?"

His breath against your lips again. Coasting across, gentle––gentle as his hands wrapping around your lungs. Desire coiled up in your throat, blocking your air.

"No," you whispered.

Tears blooming in the corners of your eyes blurred your vision, but even through that haze you watched how his grin widened, sharpened, and cut into your sanity. 

"You want more?" He rasped, lips brushing against yours with every vowel. "You want another kiss from my blade, baby? Jesus, you're insatiable. Hope you don't forget to feed me, too." He paused, eyes flickering to your lips, and murmured. "Think I might be as insatiable as you."

"You want my blood in a jar?" You asked quietly.

"I want your head in a jar, sever your spinal column n' keep it as an ornament, pretty little white bones hanging like bells," he said, his voice singing in the quiet room. 

His hands roamed up and under your neck, grasping your jaw. He dug in, nails into your skin, and pulled you down, forcing you to stare him in the eye. You steeled yourself and met his demand.

"What do you want... darlin'?"

"I want everything," you said through gritted teeth.

"Patience is key. Thought, bein' a writer and all, you'd know lots about it," he said.

"Sometimes," you said, scanning his eyes. "Sometimes the words flow like a raging torrent and your fingers flick across the keys so fast you can barely hear the individual tapping. Though... yeah... sometimes you sit staring at a blank screen for hours... just waiting for something to come."

"Glad to know you have experience. Y'know, you need patience to be a killer––need to be able to hold in that blazing fire till juuust the right moment. Guess I'll have to train you up a bit," he pressed into your wound, "'n whip you into shape."

You groaned, tensing at the pain flooding from your wound.

"Does it involve real whips?" You asked, your grin spreading.

"You wish," he said.

Razor grins––spread like cut cheeks, bleeding, dripping. A beautiful, bloody ending. You wrapped him up in your arms and squeezed, breathing in his scent, taking in each of his wandering hands slipping over your body. 

[demigods-posts]

percabeth headcanons that live rent free in my head (disclaimer: they're adults in all of these, so most of these are a bit ✨ spicy ✨ so read with caution lol):

• percy loves watching annabeth workout. specifically, anything that has to do with her arms and back because of how muscular she is in those areas. seriously. you try to focus when your girlfriend puts her hair in a tight bun and grips onto the pull-up bar and lifts her weight off the ground and the veins in her biceps pulsate and the muscles in her upper back contract as the sweat beads down her body and—

• ^^^ annabeth knows he loves it, so she purposefully puts pulls up at the end of her set so percy can jog over to the training area after teaching sword fighting lessons and drool over her because she likes the hold she has on him

• annabeth is a unit. she is a warrior. she is the moment and nothing in the world can break her focus and shit, percy is shirtless. look, it's not a crime to stare at her muscular and incredibly hot boyfriend when he emerges from the camp lake dripping wet and shirtless and smiling at her and his shorts are just barely clinging onto his hips and—

• ^^^ percy knows she loves it. he's not an idiot. he doesn't will himself dry for the sole purpose of rendering his girlfriend speechless. he likes the hold he has on her

• percy is pretty, okay? he's a pretty boy, and annabeth calls him this all of the time whenever they're alone and percy just blushes and buries his head in her hair and annabeth adores it

• annabeth orders a skirt online because she wants to experiment with her style, except it's a little too big on her. percy jokingly offers to try it on for size and annabeth, newly intrigued at the thought, practically commands that he do just that. so he does and the moment is an awakening for the both of them

• percy ends up really liking how wearing skirts makes him feel so they buy more and more skirts for him to wear and annabeth is super supportive (and she also like seeing her boyfriend in skirts. sue her)

• annabeth once surprised percy in a tux for their anniversary dinner and holy fuck. straightened hair. eyeliner. rings on her fingers. all of it. she feels hot embracing a more masculine attire and percy couldn't agree more

• ^^ annabeth also got percy a bouquet of flowers on this date and he cherishes that bouquet like it's his most prized posession

• they have matching necklaces. annabeth wear a necklace that says 'seaweedbrain' and percy wears one that says 'wisegirl' and they never take them off

• this one is incredibly specific so don't @ me but one night on their honeymoon, annabeth gets a little more drunk than they anticipate and almost lights their marriage certificate on fire

• of course, percy fucking panics and dunks water all over her and the certificate because what the fuck, babe? we've only been married for a week. what could have possibly happened to make you regret marrying me this quickly?

• and hilariously enough, because annabeth was drunk, all she remembers is getting dunked with water for ✨ no reason ✨ so she likes to fuck with him and say that percy tried to murder her on their honeymoon

• "our honeymoon was pretty much perfect except for when you tried to drown me, asshole" "no the fuck i-!" "if you hate me, just say it." "annabeth-" "bitch." "annabeth-!"

[honeeslust]

Suguru…

Suguru who is insatiable …

18+ Only

Suguru who is greedy for the energy he consumes from you. All it took was just one taste and thus began the twisted game you both would continue to play. For every bit of power you relinquished to him, he returned to you in pleasure tenfold.

Suguru, whom you fucked because you hated him so much. It was gritty. It was scary, and it was exciting. It was the realest fucking thing you’d ever felt.

Suguru who would taunt you, “Pathetic human can't keep her fucking legs closed long enough to have a decent conversation.” He’d bend his knee forcing himself deeper until he bottomed out.

…“Theres nothing fucking decent about you, shut up and keep fucking me.” You snide struggling to keep your face from twisting as he found his rhythm and fucked you deeper..

Suguru who would look at your sweet face as you were rendered fucked stupid and struggled to answer when he asked you why you insisted on hating him when clearly you didn’t hate his dick.

Suguru who would caress your mouth and drag your lower lip down with his thumb.

…You’d welcome it — lewdly sucking it into your mouth...

Suguru who just can’t help teasing you, “Hmm… look at that, all that bravado for what? Look at how indecent you're being.”

Suguru who loves seeing the way your face scrunches as he taunts you. —all while thrusting into you and massaging that sweet spot with the plump head of his cock with such ease.

Suguru who sits up and closes your legs together and turns you on your side to go even deeper than he already was. The new angle would be exquisite . His hips would move in slutty- tantric- deep- purposeful- thrusts that would ultimately be your undoing.

Suguru who would give you more so he could finally absorb the familiar lustful-arduous residuals that only your soul could provide. “It’s funny really.” He would say cramming you so full of himself that your eyes crossed and your dumb fucked mind went blank.

…“All that effort you put into hating me doesn’t amount to anything more than you being a touch-starved horny little brat with a foul mouth and a bad attitude.” He’d tease you again, just as drunk off the way he broke you “…lucky for you you pretty little fuckin’ brat.., I can drink this up all fucking day.” He’d say effortlessly manipulating the frosty glow from his palms.

…You’d roll your eyes at him but mostly out of the pleasurable l feeling from the heavy cock buried deep in your walls drawing out your mouthwatering energy. Greedily taking every bit for himself as he made a mess of your needy little pussy.

Suguru who would push climax after climax through your body until it until you went limp.

Suguru who would come back again, sliding right up alongside you and jutting his thickness right back into you.

…“ I— I can't come anymore” you’d cry only to be met with his hand encompassing your own and he threads his fingers intimately through yours.

Suguru who heard the frail plea fall from your pretty lips as he struggled to go slow “Yes you can.” He would breath kissing down your neck making the quivering sensation start at your center all over again…

[c-h-e-r-r-i-e-s]

The spirit of Toji possessed me

What the fuck is this? Me writing about Toji being mean? But girly pop don’t you have a praise kink?

Yeah and? I’m a Gemini Venus. Mind your business.

There’s a stern knock coming from your front door. You know who it is but you’re still deciding if you want to answer.

Tentatively you unlock the door and slide into the hall of your condo.

“What do you want?”

Your hulking date from 2 nights ago is leaning against the wall, head hung low and hands in his pockets. “I just wanted to see you” he shrugs his shoulders.

“Well you could’ve seen me but you ruined that by being a royal ass hole and standing me up” you shove him lightly.

“Come on please baby don’t be like that” he catches your wrist in his hand.

“Oh I’ll be like that until you get your act together”

He pulls you in to his arms grabbing your waist as you slightly struggle away. But then you look up into his eyes and melt. Seeing the need in his eyes you stop moving and cup his cheek. Always a sucker for desperation. Ugh.

That’s how you ended up in this position isn’t it? It’s how you always end up like this. It’s not healthy or good or right. But neither are you.

Toji looks down at you as your face is being pressed deeper into the mattress. Sharp breaths leaving your lips along with a sniff holding back a sob.

One hand grips your hip and a cruel smirk graces his beautiful face. God he’s so fucking pretty it makes you want to hate him. Hate him, hate yourself, hate this whole situationship you’ve landed in.

“Stop thinking so hard you’ll hurt yourself” he thrusts into you, only moving his hips a little and pulling you back on to his cock. Somehow fucking you into oblivion and you still have to do the work.

Your hand forms a fist and you hit the pillow above your head, biting down on the fabric of the sheets covering your bed. Slamming into you again and he’s definitely fucking with your head. He KNOWS where your gspot is. He’s hitting it with practically every thrust. It hurts so good. Dick so deep inside you it’s hitting your cervix. You’re never gonna walk again is all you can think. Propped up on shaky thighs he shows you some mercy and grabs you, lifting you up so he’s holding your weight.

Your fingers curl around the edge of the pillow and a tear escapes from the corner of your eye. “S’ good” you sob out.

“Yeah? Good to hear baby” Toji replies and he grips your hips harder.

Pushing down on you he forces your body against the bed completely. Spreading your legs as he thrusts into you, pelvis slapping your ass and toji fucking giggles. Grabbing your arm he holds it behind your back rendering you incapable of moving.

“Toji- fuck please” not even sure what you’re begging for a choked whine leaves your lips. “Gonna cum inside you baby.” He announces like he’s made the decision. “Can’t pull out even if I wanted to. Nasty lil- uhh- cunt just wants me so bad.”

“Shut up-“ you start to sass but he slaps your ass leaving a red hand print on your flesh. You just wimper in response. “So wet just for me baby?” He teases in a sultry voice. “Slippery” lamenting over your cunt, he’s slowing down. Drawing out the absolute fuck he’s laying on you.

So fucked out and a bit dazed he picks you up and lays you on your back. Sliding home again you can see his face over yours. Pinched eyes and parted lips. You rest your hands on his shoulder and draw him in tighter, pressing your heels into his thighs so he’s pressing his abs against your clit. So as much as humanly possible of him is inside you. Desperate needy hands run into his hair and you let out a sob.

He repositions and picks you up, sitting on his cock. Toji literally on his knees for you. And alls forgiven for tonight, what were you mad about again? - his thrust into you breaks the thought.

“Fuck Toji- Jesus fucking Christ”

He chuckles and puts you down on the mattress again.

“Gonna cum again baby?” You’re so going to cum, so you shake your head yes. You know he’s gonna read you and sure enough his thumb goes to your clit while he fucks you into the mattress. And holy hell do you fucking cum. It’s messy and all over his cock.

Toppling him over the edge too and he’s curled his palms under and around your shoulders. Keeping you from scooting away from him while he cums inside you. So much and so deep you’re just scratching at his back, desperate for any sense of control.

You’re over sensitive walls clench around his dick and your legs are squeezing around his waist. And once he’s finally finished he’s kissing your cheek and pulling you into a sweet cuddle. Too sweet for the way he just fucked you. “Sorry baby, won’t stand you up again”

Oh right you’re mad at him? It’s okay you guess. “Forgive you love” you mumble as toji cleans you both up.

[blueikeproductions]

Welp EarthSpark is officially done in Japan via the latest Figure King magazine.

Sorta rubs the Nucleon in the Energon wound that the news of cancellation comes in a magazine celebrating 40 years of Transformers, with a cover drawn by the Kiss Players guy no less, huh?

It’s also looking more apparent EarthSpark is finito in the States too. And some staff of the show are looking to blame fans for being the b-word and the p-word. Look fella, those words lost meaning just as much as “woke” did, just take your lumps like the rest of us and admit your show didn’t work because people simply had no interest in it. Also just terrible, TERRIBLE writing and pacing. I can forgive Rise of the TMNT’s faults due to Nick not knowing what to do with it and giving the staff unhelpful feedback that kept changing it (the Netflix movie finale was a much better look at what the show was trying to be and could’ve been, but alas), but EarthSpark I have no such compunction.

Hasbro was allegedly pretty hands off and was fine with what they were doing (at least at first) so the blame can only land on the writers who clearly misunderstood what they had. I detest modern shows that have uneven pacing, tone and characterization. It’s why I don’t look fondly on Adventure Time the moment it stopped being a goofy kids show and started being some college art student’s angsty wet dream.

Clearly something changed for EarthSpark internally, and I can’t help but think Hasbro and Paramount looked at the abysmal launch of the first batch of episodes and told the staff to drastically change the story for S2. That the trailer is a more traditional Autobots vs Decepticon conflict with them hunting for Emberstone pieces ala Transformers Animated and most importantly having evil Decepticon Terrans (something fans had stated as happening in some form from the start), shows they wanted to make this into a better boy brand thing again.

The first season overcompensates by focusing too heavily on the female cast, most of them bordering on obnoxious, while making most of the male characters into morons, again Robbie dying for contrived reasons but the Maltos instead choose to love up Mo while Robbie lays there clinging to whatever life force he has left at that moment.

Instead Robbie seems to be the primary focus, with a b-plot about him having a crush on someone. I’m guessing this is where the rumors saying Hashtag comes out as gay comes from as I suspect Hashtag remarks on Robbie’s female crush being adorable and tries to be his wingman (with probably the same results when she tried helping Jawbreaker).

I feel like the intention may have been to have Mo be the focus of S1 and Robbie for S2, but it doesn’t fully come off that way as the focus is too rambling on top of trying to focus on the Terrans and Bumblebee in an RiD15 style role again.

Also what the slag is this?

If there’s one thing I hate more it’s lazy photoshopping.

Not only do they just swap Bee and Prime’s renders around, they just crudely put the kids heads on these altered bodies from their preexisting stock art… Like no Quintessons or Terracons or nothing. Nothing to make you more legitimately excited for something new. Just the same Autobots and the kids in ReBoot Guardian Code suits, ick. It’s a bit of a downgrade compared to the Prime Apex Armor suits the toys use.

Despite the cancellation, the Japanese magazine refers to a “Slash Malt”(o). Presumably this might be a Terran version of the Dinobot Slash, whose only proper media presence has been a minor cameo in Japanese manga as the kid sister of the Dinobots and a supporting role in Rescue Bots Academy.

Frankly becoming a Terran might be the best thing for Slash, and it’s something I’m surprised toy wise wasn’t attempted anyway with characters like Lightbright, Lickity Split, Rubble, Gauge, Nightscream, and others.

So once again, what comes next? We don’t know still as of typing. Skybound is still knocking it out of the park with its Energon Universe, with the Joe portion moving on to Destro and Scarlett after having wrapped up Cobra Commander’s miniseries. Of note on Destro is the possibility MASK might be getting another go again, as what appears to be Miles Mayhem, the leader of the villainous VENOM faction, makes an appearance. The MASK and VENOM teams tend to be depicted as off shoots of Joe and Cobra in modern material, and with the pitch of the EU mentioning Energon being able to power machines, the transforming vehicles might be among the first specially designed vehicles developed to combat the Decepticons… Especially since Destro took interest in the idea of a transforming jet when he learned of Starscream.

The next cartoon is being worked on now, but we don’t know yet what it is. The easiest assumption is it’s a spin off of TFONE like how Mutant Mayhem has Tales of the TMNT, but it may be something else altogether. Barring anything TFONE does, EarthSpark was the last hold out of IDW’s post war ideas, and with Autobot Megatron mark II being viewed like this:

I think Autobot Megatron is largely done as a concept and with how merciless Skybound Megs is shown to be (though interestingly he did spare some Cobra-La guys when they told him what he wanted to know after stepping on one), I think we’re gonna be back to a traditional Megatron.

People are still not really feeling TFONE via recent upload on a TF fan convention YouTube channel, calling it terrible and cringey, so at this point I’m honestly just writing it off now (even though I’ll personally like it fine like the new Garfield Movie).

I stand by a new TF anime with a fun Mini-Con like gimmick built in the story is the way to go, because this incessant need to reject its toyetic roots is aggravating. At this stage I say let Skybound do the comics, and let Japan handle the cartoon, because clearly most people working now can’t write a decent TF cartoon without getting out of their sanctimonious way.

It’s time to Transform and Rise Up from this nonsense, and hopefully One helps with that more, but atm it’s all on Skybound until the next cartoon is ready. No pressure.

[ohcurseit]

Like father like son

This is a tiny tiny analysis and comparison(?) between Toji and Megumi

================================

If I read the story correctly, "Tsumiki" was actually dead when she was hit by the curse energy and fell in a coma. For so long, despite in a coma, she was a integral part to Megumi.

Before she got out of coma, all Megumi could think of how to get her out of this mess and keep her safe.

When it all unfolded, Sukuna took over his body, and killed "Tsumiki" with "Megumi"s hands, Megumi just sunk to the bottom and gave up.

Megumi is pretty much a copy of Toji. He had his looks, his attitude, his confidence, his cool. I thunk it's quite safe to say this pair of father and son work the same way in lots of areas. But Megumi grew up in a much better environment, so Megumi can social and build up relationship with people. He has the ability to and, knows how and what to care about.

Tsumiki was Megumi's entire family. So when "Megumi killed Tsumiki", he gave up fighting.

Now, let's think about Toji. He grew up in a way worse environment. It was so bad that he got a scar ob his lips. It was so bad because the impact must had gone for his head. Toji basically grew up in hell.

He was laid back and cocky and mean and all that, as a response to the world that only ever gave him scars.

Despite him having the power above level 1 but below special grade jujutsushi, I think he has a strong feeling of helplessness in him that stems from being denied on an existing level. It's because he lacks the curse that Zenin anf the entire jujutsu world is about.

He did his struggle and put up his fight. I think he did find all he needs from Megumom. That's why he had Megumi with her. We all know, as a fact, there are so many ways that people can prevent having a baby. Judging from Toji's character setting: the strongest physique that human body can possibly achieve without curse bouns, plus a certain level of curse resistance, I dare say this guy is a proper breeder. As in, if he wants, with his physical abiliy and bad boy charm, he can be a breeding power house. Except, he only had Megumi.

I also think he has quite some self hate.

So imagine, after years of denial and refusal and all sorts, finally he found someone. He was lucky that the person loved him back and wanted to make a family with him. Only for her to die in front of his eyes. Seeing how protective Megumi was towards Tsumiki, Toji was only going to be even more so. But cruel fate slapped right in his face by rendering Toji completely helpless in Megumom's death. There wasn't even a killer. Toji could do nothing about it.

Look at the baby she left him: a carbon copy of himself.

Imagine the pain. I can't get myself to blame him for giving up on life. He lived because he was far from casually killing himself. He would live just out of spite. But that's about how much he wanted to live. His love died and left him a husk of a man.

Uuuggggghhhhhhhhhh LET ME LOVE HIM (cat biting duvet going crazy.gif)

[dnangelic]

CHARACTER INFO SHEET

Name: daisuke niwa / dark mousy Name meaning:

丹羽大助 (niwa daisuke) 丹: red 羽: plumes, feathers, wings 大: big or 'great' 助: help/assistance

dark's name is usually rendered in katakana as ダーク (マウジ). dark: the absence of light in a place. mousy: of or like a mouse/shy or timid. lol Alias: generally speaking, they are each other's aliases. Ethnicity: jp!

THREE HEADCANONS YOU’VE NEVER TOLD ANYONE:

💜 dark has a very good singing voice, (here's onosaka's travelog for an example,) but he doesn't use it often because he doesn't really have a reason to or much interest in singing for himself. somebody has to pull him in for a duet sometime i think 💜 he says he 'has no choice' when it comes to wearing emiko (daisuke's mom's) outfits for him and daisuke, but that's a lie. he absolutely hates looking shabby and is the only reason why daisuke looks slightly above boring and presentable in verses like genshin sometimes 💜 he's really not used to eating. you'd assume he didn't even need to eat since he never brings up human necessities + usually leaves it all to daisuke to handle. but the body still needs calories, even if eating is still really weird for him to do, like, personally. 💗 painting is basically daisuke's 'thing,' but he has and will try a lot of other artistic endeavors! this includes things like flower arrangements, sculpting, pottery... it's okay if he isn't any good, he just wants to enjoy everything that he can. inviting him out to a workshop or something similar is an experience and memory he'd really treasure. 💗 he wants to be taller..... without having to transform into dark. he's a late bloomer, and is generally one of the shorter people in his class. it's not for the sake of height alone that he wants to be taller, though. he just wants people to stop making fun of him and to come off as manlier, even if just by a little. 💗 his thoughts are packed full of all of the artworks he's ever met. when he isn't thinking about dark, then he's thinking about freedert and the second hand of time, or rokuto/insomnia. he sincerely wishes he could have had even just a little more time with freedert, or a better, genuine conversation with rokuto, especially since rokuto was his 'best friend', (even if the memories/idea had been planted into his head by rokuto in the first place.) it's complicated- it doesn't help there isn't really anyone daisuke can usually talk about these sorts of things with aside from dark himself, either.

THREE THINGS YOUR CHARACTER LIKES DOING IN THEIR FREE TIME:

💜 sleeping. 💜 flirting. 💜 stealing. look he technically doesn't get a lot of free time okay

💗 painting. this remains number one for daisuke! 💗 calling/talking to or outright visiting any of his friends. daisuke's the sort to run over just to check up on anybody if he's worried about them at all, but he really does enjoy being with others since he has some unsettled feelings of loneliness and isolation himself sometimes. 💗 general loafing around. napping in the sun, watching tv, petting and feeding wiz, his life is pretty busy (and plagued with crazy amounts of anxiety,) so the rare moments when he can just kind of relax and do nothing are valued by him.

SIX PEOPLE YOUR CHARACTER LIKES/LOVES:

💜 manisumea. dnangel's lilith figure + the artwork that had freed dark from imprisonment once upon a time. they share a sort of relationship that dark will most likely never have with anyone else; that of an extremely old and familiar friend who was there for him. she's a part of baku/defective now, and dark is relieved that she didn't have to break and perish in front of his eyes like so many other artworks. 💜 yuu. the first girl who had ever 'saw' and 'heard' him, as 'dark' and his own self, rather than the niwa he was a part of. 💜 emiko. daisuke's mother. he knows how much she wanted to become a phantom thief and has already helplessly witnessed her tears, but he still thinks she's best as just a good mother taking care of daisuke and helping him to properly develop and grow into an adult. 💜 menou. daiki's original love interest and the girl who became a ghost, bound to the earth for as long as she wore the unbroken agate links. dark hopes that she's found peace somewhere, especially after her wish of seeing the phantom thief again was fulfilled just as she disappeared. 💜 towa. she's funny and cute, and while he's been (admittedly, now,) kind of a jerk to her before, he has to admit that she does a really good job at what she does, and has helped him and daisuke out of a lot of pinches before. 💜 wiz. obligatory wiz appreciation. that rabbit does so much all the time for dark and daisuke both, but wiz's history with dark goes on for much longer than daisuke's. the magical phantom thieves are nothing without their funky little magical rabbit mascot. 💗 risa. he still likes her as a friend even after his own rejection, and she's been an enormous influence on him from the start; first someone he worked up the entirety of his courage to confess to, then the trigger for his very first transformation into dark. for the most part, they're on good terms. 💗 riku. the other harada twin with a completely different personality from risa. sometimes he's a little chagrined over her stubborn and independent attitude, but he sincerely likes her for the strength of her personality and is grateful that she doesn't seem to think he's a loser. 💗 satoshi. the curse's 'other half,' his destined rival that he was intent on befriending, the person who was supposed to capture him and dark but who had helped him time after time again instead. as his total opposite, daisuke genuinely admires a number of hiwatari's aspects, but he's also deeply frustrated by the fact that he can't help or save satoshi from the short-lived fate of the hikari lineage. 💗 kosuke. that's his dad! in a family of active thieves kosuke still serves as the informant and the researcher, the level head who can maintain a detached perspective from those directly involved with dark or dark's presence. while i hc that daisuke didn't see him very much and likewise doesn't have very many memories of them together as a child, (at least, definitely not as much as he spent time with daiki or emiko,) daisuke still deeply respects and appreciates his father for every word of advice and assistance he's ever given. 💗 argentine! yeah, he kinda hated argentine at first and even got so turbo-pissed that he forced dark to manifest and knocked out for two days, but argentine's already become an important person (artwork?) to him as 'someone that was saved.' dark was entirely intent on breaking argentine at first, but daisuke's relieved that another artwork's corpse and husk didn't have to be added onto the pile. as an artwork serving the family as a butler and artwork repairman now, daisuke tries to keep argentine as a reminder that others can not only change, but some are just trying to find answers to questions that they're looking for. 💗 freedert. daisuke's first experience with loss and grief and his own human helplessness. he wanted nothing more than to save freedert and the second hand of time but couldn't; it especially hurts since freedert had also merged with the second hand of time, just like himself and dark. he'll always remember her last words to him, though.

TWO THINGS YOUR CHARACTER REGRETS:

💜 being born. this one is no joke, because dark's birth wasn't actually his fault as opposed to the hikari and niwa ancestors'. canonically it's implied that dark has the capacity to hate his birth + humanity as a whole for creating him, but since hating anything is too tiring (all-consuming) and just all around 'no fun,' he resigns to simply holding dead-silent regrets over his creation instead. the cultural reformation refers to what's basically an art-pocalypse that happened due to the kokuyoku (that's dark and krad themselves) as being decided 'too dangerous.' the body count of countless artworks being burned, shattered, and destroyed is one he blames himself and takes a personal responsibility for, thus partially motivating his actions as a phantom thief, though he's also guilty of being an obstacle (self proclaimed 'meddler') that gets in the way of the niwa's mundane lives as well.

💜 attempting to merge with daisuke. he truly did want to take advantage of, manipulate and ultimately take in the boy at first so he could finally obtain his own body, but over time dark has learned that not only was there not any need for it, but daisuke had 'already been his' from the start. this is a new development compared to dark's relationship with the rest of the niwa, who dark had continuously tried to manipulate into merging with him, but overall failed until they found their loves reciprocated, and he disappeared from them.

💗 moping around on the birthday that he had first transformed into dark on. he reaaaally should have listened to what his grandpa and mom had to say instead of getting were-bishonened with absolutely no warning. he's also moped around during a lot of other crucial moments, mostly ones wherein he was separated from dark. without dark's extra goading pushes or encouragements, he tends to struggle and sulk. he's trying to, or at least wants to, be able to get over that part of himself, and be capable of standing up and taking steps forward without thinking to himself that he's 'absolutely no good' (and hopeless/useless) without dark.

💗 lying. always and always to everyone, lying. daisuke really doesn't want to around those he wants to trust and cares about, but due to dark's presence, he feels as if he has no real choice. he's actually gotten better at lying lately, (that is, being able to tell some without breaking into a cold sweat or stuttering,) but he's still pretty much awful at it. it's not only the act of lying itself that he regrets, but the fact that it makes him appear weird and potentially could hurt or devastate others' feelings that really torments him.

TWO PHOBIAS YOUR CHARACTER HAS:

💜 fear of being forgotten. 💜 fear of being alone. 💗 fear of being hated/rejected. 💗 fear of not being able to help or save others.

[blogofloathing]

Part 2 of 2!! Short Story But With More To Come! The Shadow Has Its Claws Quite Deep Doesn't It

As the hours passed by she thought she might simply die here, at her workbench, building.

And building, and building, it seemed as if the shadows demands never ended, always more.

Simone sat on the brink of losing all hope, putting her head down, and just letting this beast carry out whatever awful fate it had in mind for her.

Let it seperate the bones from her skin, or drain her blood or do whatever horrible things it had planned, she just wanted it to be over.

"I'm sorry Victoria.." she breathed out in a lilting whisper, letting the wrench hit the floor, dropped carelessly, weightlessly, from her well worn out hands, and carpal tunneled wrists

Simone could feel the growing rage of her captor, the bubbling simmer of the universes melting pot,

Closing in around her, snuffing all the air out of the room, stray bubbles escaping Simone's lungs.

It's sickly black appendages constricting the blood throughout her entire body, in a maladroit grip, one which wouldn't leave any bruises, while being as painful as possible for the poor mechanic.

Though she noticed that even in this vacuum, she didn't suffocate, oddly enough she seemed..

The door to her workshop flung open with a shudder, as if the door itself was surprised.

And none other than Victoria Martinez walked through, stumbling in like a tumbleweed.

Fresh scrapes visible on her torn through knees.

something less than a gasp sounded in Simone's head as the shadow seemed to lift from her, fleeing through the cracks in the walls and floors.

Her multi-handed clock laying at rest, though it's time wasn't any more correct than before

Coward, she thought, now allowed to do so freely.

"Hey! Simone! The hell are ya doin in the dark this early?" She couldn't have known that Simone had been there since yesterday afternoon.

The Irish goodbye of her tormentor left Simone's skin feeling empty, as if the shadow had filled in the space between each blood vessel.

Her heavy breathing going unnoticed by the scraggly girl, and as expected, no marks.

"I, I'm just busy, Victoria.." she said, trying not to snap at her, it wasn't her fault, Simone knew.

"Awww too busy for a piece of ol' Viccy M?" She flung back, Simone let the little jab fly past.

Victoria was about to send another snarky remark her way, but the silence seemed to have set off whatever remained of this girls social awareness.

Evidently the situation was more serious than it seemed to her, not like she could understand it really, but it wasn't a time for their back and forth.

"Hey uh, look I see you're.. busy, want me to just.. come back later eh?" She handed her, the tone carrying a much kinder cadence than before.

Simone held a rye smile, something in this girl made the shadow nervous,

maybe she made the right choice in keeping her around, nuisance as she was.

She couldn't stand her, but, she couldn't stay away

She'd even say she hated her, but, she couldn't, it wasn't what she was used to

Not the way she felt about friends, or family, or a crush, she felt something new for this stupid girl and it made her manic.

What in the world was within this girl that set her off so badly, she hated it, and yet she loved it

This paradox of emotion rendering her oblivious to everything else, seeing as Victoria had already made it halfway to the door, before she made a full re entry back to earth.

As the girl reached for the door handle a sudden terror gripped Simone, her only salvation was about to walk out that door, how could she have ever even considered making Victoria leave.

Surely the shadow would kill her once she left, this was her ticket to safety, and she was letting it go.

Expelling this notion in a desperate "No!" Followed quickly with a much quieter, "p-please stay.."

A sly smirk stretched across the dusty girls face, seems Simone couldn't possibly bear to see such a pretty face leave hm? She giggled to herself.

Walking back over with a skip to her step, which nearly sent her tripping over Simone's machine,

"Well why dontcha get out of this rust bucket-" Simone mentally cutting her off with like the bridge you sleep under? But keeping it to herself.

"And into a more comfy seat eh? I know you got those fancy chairs rich folks got" Victoria teased, "I'm not rich Viccy and beanbags are not fancy"

But despite her annoyed tone, and to an outsider their seeming like a match made right in hell.

Simone couldn't imagine a better way to spend her morning, this silly girl was smarter than her.

Cause she knew just what to say, without even thinking, to make her forget all about her worries.

"Now ya gonna tell me about your latest updates to the project?" Victoria inquired, the hand on her shoulder made Simone wince slightly,

She considered for a moment, but smiling shortly, she sighed "nah, that can wait"

"Heh, who is this girl next to me right now? It can wait?" She teased the uncouthness.

"Wanna go out for drinks? I'm technically banned from Hazel's Place but I could try-"

"Lets just stay inside for the day" Simone offered bluntly, though she knew she'd say yes.

"Way ahead of ya sister" Victoria flicked at her, already plopped down in a red beanbag.

Making her giggle softly, "claimed your territory?" She pointed at the squishy seat.

"Hell yeah I did! Tis mine oh fair Simone" spoken in a mock accent of some kind she couldn't discern.

Sauntering over dramatically to the blue beanbag chair, Simone questioned facetiously "oh my good lady is this seat taken by anywhomst?"

The two snickered under their breath "oh well I say it is open for only the fairest dame"

"Well well Misses Inquisitor, what's your verdict?" Simone struggling to keep a straight face.

"By jove! I do believe ye to be the fairest of them all! Take a seat right away your majesty!"

"Thank you thank you" Simone mimed waving off an audience, kissing an invisible hand.

"Find your seat alright madam?" Victoria flitted, before the pair couldn't handle it any longer and burst open into laughter,

"This is so stupid" Victoria sniggered in between raucous bleats of mirth.

Faces changing colors kaleidoscopically with each hearty expression.

The two sat side by side but still had to hold one another for support.

"That accent sounds awful!" Simone giggled, "it's so bad Victoria!"

"Hey I've been practicin alright! Cut me some slack" she retorted.

"What is that even supposed to sound like!?" And Victoria just laughed.

After several moments of uncontrollable hysterics, the din calmed down

Their lungs and faces recovering from the strain

"Ahh ahh" Victoria breathed, trying desperately to regain some semblance of normalcy in her tone

Everytime the duo hung out it felt like her smile muscles got given a delightfully grueling work out.

"Well I think my accent is getting better," she bragged, though it really wasn't any more accurate than it had been the several other times she'd tried.

Turning to face Simone to further show off "Yours was pretty good too but I think-" she began

Before quickly shushing at the sight before her, Simone Chekhov of the S.I.T Robotechtronics Department, sound asleep next to her.

She hadn't even noticed in all of the commotion. Had she really been here all night..?

Her eyes tentatively traced over the sleeping girl.

Simone didn't snore, quiet as she was in waking this just made sense, and she twitched oddly in her sleep, probably dreaming of power tools or sheets of metal, thought Victoria humorously.

But, of especial import, In her somnambulant state she had laid right up against the now flustered hobo girls shoulder.

Resting on Victoria like a pillow, with no hint of discomfort on her round face.

It almost looked like she was clinging to her for protection in the dream world.

She didn't dare move, risk waking her up, Simone looked so peaceful like this, and so pretty too.

Eyes shut softly, mouth just slightly agape as she breathed quietly.

Hair falling over her figure in an almost deliberate way, Victoria could see the folds in her clothes, the stray freckles that dotted only parts of her.

She noticed every detail, as if the bespectacled girl glowed in the stray beams that shone through the dusty windows.

Victoria marveled at Simone, something about her was like a goddess..

"Gosh" she uttered almost inaudibly, shaking her head like a wet dog to be freed from these unfamiliar thoughts.

She didn't bother going to grab a blanket, simply outstretching her arm and letting herself drift off too, with Simone.

Careful to make each action as unobtrusive as possible for her.

And as she embraced the smaller girl, her rest seemed to grow even more tranquil

Like her presence had brought curtains to some unfortunate performance in her head.

Maybe they'll have the same dream, she thought briefly, before the comfort of the scene took her, away into sleep.

Part 2 of 2 END! Of Simone's Story For Now! More To Come! Seems The Two Comfort Each Other