#scovilles

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

DAY XII. — HAND HOLDING (DURING THE ACT)

cw: Fluff, Romantic Talk, Hand Holding, Cunnilingus, Aged-Up / Pro-Hero Time Skip, Fem! Reader. 18+ Only!

author's note: It was so interesting writing Deku. He's so cute but he's still an anxious dweeb who struggles to talk to girls. Enjoy!

word count: Approximately 1.2k words.

“Um, okay. I’m not sure if—well, it’s just, I’ve never done anything like this before so I don’t know if I’ll be able to perform at the kind of standard you might be expecting, which—”

“Izuku.” 

Izuku pauses, the brows of his face pinched together and his pretty emerald eyes wide. They’re glossy with emotion, shiny underneath the dim lighting of your bedroom. His head rests in between your thighs, hands curled around the swell of your knees, fingers pinching into your skin. The way he looks at you makes you pause, but you just amend your surprise with a half moon of a smile. 

“It’s okay, really. I don’t expect you to be an expert at this. I mean, I’m sure I wouldn’t be good going down on you either.” 

A distinct little yelp squeaks in the back of Izuku’s throat before he quickly flings his gaze off to the side, red flames igniting and powdering across his face while he stammers a response. 

“Ha ha! W-Well, you’re great at everything you do, or, you have been, so I’m sure you’d do great if you, uh, did g-go down on m-me. B-But we’re not talking about me right now! I’m just trying to make sure that you’re comfortable with this, and that—” 

“Izuku.” 

Once again, his teeth snap shut, and his eyes meet yours. 

“Don’t think about it too much. Just do what your gut tells you. I know it’ll feel good, don’t sweat it.” 

Izuku gulps, but he nods, determined. His face shifts a little, and his body wiggles along with it. He tries to press himself further in between your legs, squeezing your knees before he starts to push them down so he can accurately lower his face to the meadows of your cunt. Izuku’s determination fades a little, cracks of doubt breaking through his facade before he swallows and scrunches his brow ridge. You stare at him fondly, content with observing him build up the courage to swoop forward and claim what already belongs to him. His locks sway along his forehead, full and curly, and they tickle your thighs with Izuku’s every subtle movement. One of your hands reaches for him, tapping his head in a wave gently before you start to pet him. Izuku jumps, quickly glancing at you before he blinks and looks down again. 

“J-Just tell me if you don’t like this and want me to stop. I’ll…” 

Izuku doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he finally bows his head until his hot breath fans against the meaty lips of your cunt. Another swallow, but Izuku doesn’t keep you waiting any longer. He’s delicate and ginger whenever he connects your lips, his mouth is soft and warm, and you moan quietly at the sensation that unfolds beneath him. It’s lightning, but it’s slow, it’s nothing real. Fire, but it’s dull, but toasty enough to feel like ice thawing from your body. The feelings start to weigh down on you, and your head collapses onto the pillow within a mere second of Izuku’s mouth against your cunt. 

The fingers in his hair braid themselves, a shallow sort of attempt to ground yourself. Izuku pauses for a split second, probably listening for any signs of discomfort, but resumes once another moan floats from your chest. His mouth parts, and his tongue pokes out like a snake hidden within tall stalks of gross to lay a thin stripe over the seam of your cunt. You feel like you’re spinning on a carousel, faster and faster, and your thighs clench once Izuku’s tongue prods against your clit. It’s hard, heavy, and thumping, eager to be touched and Izuku decidedly flicks it a few times. You groan each time, encouraging Izuku to tilt his head to the side so that he could suction his mouth against your clit. Both of your eyes roll back into your head, scattering like bowling pins smacked in the center, and a moan that’s way too loud escapes you whenever Izuku starts to suck and tug your clit. 

“W-What was that you were saying about not being good? Ahhh, haa, oh, Izuku, that feels so so sooo good. Don’t stop, don’t stop!” 

Your praise spurns Izuku on, and he starts to work his jaw in miniscule circles to lap at your clit and play it over his tongue like a meal, like food he wanted to savor, like a broth and soup that spreads love and health throughout his chest. You wondered what Izuku was thinking, you wondered if he was really enjoying this, but an ear-splitting slurp made your head dizzy and all thoughts flew out of your mind. 

His belly is flat to the bed, but you can feel him start to crunch up, can feel whenever he starts to gyrate his hips. Izuku’s moving in a way that slides you further towards him, your knees are growing closer to your head by the moment, and his face dives deeper. His groans vibrate your body, too, and his chin is parting your cunt down the middle. Glaze is slick down your flesh, but Izuku just bobs and weaves his head, smearing you wet, like he’s gone. 

“Like that! Yeah, ohhh, yes, yes.” 

Izuku nods to the best of his ability, and you’re left gritting your teeth and groaning. You wonder if he’s asked how to do this or if he’s researched it himself because, fuck, he’s so good, but that thought is fleeting and all you can imagine is teasing him after this is over by returning the favor. Because he’s eating you out like he’s mad with a fever, like you’re cetirizine. Maybe he’s listened to you gush one too many times—and that idea flatters you so badly, it makes you feel special to think someone is that dedicated to making you feel like this. 

And whenever one of Izuku’s hands leaves your thigh, trailing down, leaving storms and electricity in his wake, you nearly gasp and cry out his name whenever he finds your free palm and taps it gently. You flex, trying to process everything, trying to focus on anything all at once but finding each feeling overlapping and overwhelming. Izuku traces his fingers up before he laces them between the gaps of yours, curling down over your knuckles and squeezing. Tears spring to your eyes, fresh and new, and you start to pant, chanting Izuku’s name with every molecule of air you sip through. 

You can feel this burning, this reality that is starting to compress the rims of your belly. It’s down, but then it’s shivering and shuddering throughout your thighs all the way down to your stretching toes. But then it’s up, making your shoulder recoil and your chest bounce like a gunshot. 

Izuku’s hand is in yours, and yours is in his. You return his hold, losing yourself to the intimacy of him, of Izuku, of your lover, of your pleasure. His mouth seems to suck you in, through a drain and tumbling into the rabbit hole, and you’re crying before you can catch yourself. It’s getting to be too much, the way you seem to slowly implode, and your back arches before Izuku’s name is your death rattle.

And you squeeze again, hands intertwined, and Izuku holds you all the way through your orgasm. 

[21stcenturycheesecake]

Ms. Scoville

[petaltexturedskies]

At last came the golden month of the wild folk— honey-sweet May, when the birds come back, and the flowers come out, and the air is full of the sunrise scents and songs of the dawning year.

Samuel Scoville Jr., Wild Folk

[its-to-the-death]

Glasses Swag Sequel Preliminary Round #3

Only one will make it into the bracket!

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Also dumb question

How would that call of duty characters fare on hot ones? How high can they get on the Scoville scale before they gotta tap out??

- 🔪

Using this scale as a guide:

The COD characters on Hot Ones

(This started out serious but devolved into pure jokes and slander)

Ghost, surprisingly, gets the furthest. I'd say he'd get around the Ghost pepper but would def get tears in his eyes and red in the face. In my mind, he's trained himself to withstand many kinds of 'torture' and that includes tricking his brain into not reacting to heat/pain receptors in his mouth.

Surprisingly (2.0), Nikolai. Not because Russians are particularly good with spice or because of stereotype, but because I'm 100% sure he'd handle a Habanero just fine. Something about him just screams it. Idk.

Gaz comes next. I'd say he can go up to Habaneros before he taps out. I hc that he was raised by immigrants and is used to spiced food, not just spicy, but well spiced too.

Alejandro after that. Might be me engaging a bit in stereotype but he, also, doesn't strike me as the kind of man that would eat bland food? Traditional Mexican food is well-seasoned and plenty spicy so... Cayenne-Thai levels.

Rudy fits here bc of the same reason as Alejandro. But he reacts worse, I feel like. In my mind, he gets red in the face and SWEATS when he's eating.

Price goes next and I blame that on the fact he's been all over the world for missions and deployments and probably has eaten food of all kinds, if nothing else just to experiment. That being said, he's definitely a wimp. Fits somewhere between Jalapeños and Cayenne peppers.

Farah and she's only this low because her country has been going through a revolt + she was in prison + she scavenged for food as a kid and I imagine she's not always had access to try super spicy food when surviving off rations. Fits somewhere between Jalapeños and Cayenne peppers but could definitely handle more if she had more opportunities to eat it more.

Laswell. I'm convinced she was a field agent for the CIA before becoming a handler and station chief. Aka, she was all over the world and ate all sort of things, just like Price. Fits somewhere between Jalapeños and Cayenne peppers.

Soap taps out the easiest on the 141 but he's still not really a wimp. He's just Scottish. Around the same level as Laswell, Price, etc.

Alex Keller comes next. He's white and American. Do I need to say more? I'd say he can handle a Jalapeño but will need loads of water and milk

Graves comes at the bottom of the fucking line. He's white, American and a yee-haw American at that. If Alex can handle a jalapeño, Graves can't handle yellow mustard out of the bottle.

[bookshelfdreams]

witches who are into the whole spell jar thing are so funny, I just saw a recipe for a curse powder - mainly various ground up peppers - with the attached warning that it's irritant so dont add to food as a method of delivery!

girl (gn) do you understand the purpose of cursing

[dailybehbeh]

[clare-with-no-i]

read more on AO3

[kingspacebar]

Icons for a bunch of my splatoon ocs!

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

DAY XI. — BREEDING/NON-CON (CABIN IN THE WOODS AU)

cw: Blood, Gore, Mentions of Death / Past Death, Violence / Allusions to Violence, Non-Con, Breeding / Allusions to Breeding, Monster! Hawks, Slight Gaslighting / Manipulation, Unhealthy Relationships, Yandere, General Dark Content Not Suitable for Immature Audiences, Fem! Reader. Reader discretion is advised. 18+ Only!

author's note: My friends and I have constantly joked about a Cabin in the Woods AU in which our favorite characters are monsters kept in that underground base. Hawks is probably something akin to a harpy. I do not condone unhealthy behavior in any sense! This is strictly fiction! Do not force yourself to read if you're uncomfortable.

word count: Approximately 1.3k words.

A throaty shriek bounces around in your head before a heaving pressure slams into your back, sending your weary frame spiraling down an incline. You’re screaming, kicking and swiping your fists out to throw the weight on your body off, but you hear what sounds like a hiss before multiple piercing pains puncture into you. A gasp slips out of your mouth, and you glance down in terror at yourself while you’re still tumbling down, lower and lower. 

Sharp talons, claws that glitter under the moonlight, are digging through your flesh. Five knives on each palm, one through your shoulder and the other buried deep in your ribs underneath your breast. You can feel something poking against your lungs, a reminder that one wrong move will kill you. The pain grows, and you finally stop rolling. That thing is still on your back, heavy and panting, and you nearly gag at the hot and disgusting breath breezing down the ridge of your nose. A hearty chuckle. 

“Y’know… haaa, haaa, it took me a little bit to find you. Ya really threw me off of my game, did’ja know? I can’t believe you managed to trick me like that, little songbird.” 

His voice is poison and ice in your ears, shuddering winds that lets you see your foggy breath even in the desolate summer heat. You don’t want to even dignify him with a response, you want to toss your head back and slam it into his face. The thought crosses your mind in a flash before you do such, and the reverberating thunder that makes your ears ring whenever the back of your skull knocks against his teeth makes you cry out in agony. You hear his call, too, and whooshing wings flap before they shield your body. 

“Owww, little bird! W-Why’d you do that? I thought we were going to play nice with each other. That’s why you’re alive, isn’t it? You wanted to play with me?” 

Sure, if by playing you mean fighting for your life and stabbing him in the arm whenever he had picked you up with those hawk claws, dragging you into the sky to spear your belly through the top of a tree—just like your friend, just like your friend. Tears well in your eyes now. Your wrist was broken, but it wasn’t like this monster cared. And you don’t even want to know, you don’t want to contemplate why you’re alive, why he kept you alive, why he chased after you, why he pinned you down underneath him and talked to you as if this were normal.

“Come on, no need to be so cold. Talk to me a little. I know you can—didn’t you with that human male?” 

There’s a shivering chill that flicks you between your eyebrows, but you just groan and rest your cheek against the forest floor. You don’t want him to talk to you. He should just murder you like he did to the rest of your friends. He should slice you open, eat you with those razor teeth. Intestines, blood, spit and fear. You can see the horror painted like a dreary window sill on your closest friend’s face. 

“He wasn’t worth it, in my opinion. It’s strange, isn’t it? I can’t believe I’d find my own human pet. But you’re being so mean right now, it’s so harsh. Here, I’ve got an idea.” 

The monster doesn’t give you enough time to even comprehend his statement before the hand inside of your shoulder withdraws, spilling fresh blood and weeping yells, and starts to trace down your back. Something distinct snags your heart, veins that thump in anticipation and a dawning realization that makes jelly and tar form in the back of your throat. His hand slips to your bottoms, claws at the ready, and you can’t even scream before he tears them off. The monster’s shoving your panties aside, ripping the fabric like it was just a sheet of paper before the hand leaves and braces itself to the right of your head. 

“N-No, stop! Stop, stop! Please, don’t—” 

“Shhh, little bird. This’ll feel good. If you don’t want to talk, then we can do this instead. It’ll be just as fun.” 

And before you can even bite your tongue, something stiff and slimy slips between the line of your thighs and starts to prod between your cheeks. Terror like you’ve never known before begins to storm in your body, like crazy drums and guitar strings, and it makes you shake, thrashing and begging. 

“I don’t want to do this! Leave me alone, please! Please, just kill me instead! I—”

“Kill you? Nahh, I don’t want to do that. Though, that blood of yours sure does smell tasty. You won’t mind if I need to steal a taste, would you?” 

You’re throwing your head around, wriggling your body underneath his, but those wings block your exits and his limbs start to ensconce you in the most horrifying ways. This was just supposed to be a vacation! This was supposed to just be a great time with your friends before the new semester started! This was supposed to be time hidden in the woods, drinking and toasting fate and happiness! This was just supposed to be for fun! Fun! Fun! Fun—and all of your friends are dead, murdered, killed in mortifying ways by the monster starting to gyrate his hips against the cleft of your ass. 

His feathers tickle. 

“Calm down, calm down. It’s what all things were made to do, you’ll start to enjoy it once you calm down!” 

He doesn’t sound frustrated in the slightest, no, a hint of glee coats the outskirts of his tone. His hips angle down, his stiff cock manages to slip down between your squished thighs, and his cockhead starts to poke against your entrance. You’re so dry that his slickness makes you queasy, tears like stars in the night sky. 

“I don’t want to do this, please, pleeeeeease. God, please. I’m scared.” 

That cockhead just pushes forward, an amused chuckle the belltower of your doom. 

“Don’t be, songbird. You’re my mate now. And you know what mates do, right?” 

You do. And you have zero clue what made him so delusional—what gave him conscious thought to choose you. Shouldn’t you have been his prey? Why is he? Why you? Oh, God, why you? Is it because you fought back? Is it because you managed to escape every time? Is it just luck? You don’t know, you don’t want to know, you’ll never know. 

He’s slowly pressing into you, slotting his slimy and gritty cock inside of your cunt, spreading your chapped lips, sending your head in a frenzy, a desperate plea that doesn’t even reach your fingertips. He weighs you down like a ship’s smoke on the horizon. 

“I’ll take care of you from now on. That’s what males do. You’re supposed to just be mine, ‘kay? Let’s get it on. I’ll make sure you’re satisfied.” 

You don’t listen, don’t want to. You just decide, with those red feathers tickling your nose and cheeks, with the claws in your body, with the joints bending into yours, that you’ll just lay here and fade away into nothingness. Stop thinking and it’ll be over. And hopefully once he’s used you up enough, you’ll find your bowels accidentally splayed on the mushy grass and your friends holding their hands out to you. 

“And maybe we’ll get a couple of chicks. Yeah, sounds nice. Yeahhhh. You’ll be a great mate.” 

Then, with your shuttering eyes, the monster fills you up. 

[cokebottles]

[21stcenturycheesecake]

Ms. Scoville

[aernthearo]

Wilbur Scoville > Wilbur Soot

He has such a silly moustache :3

EVERYONE HELP ME GET SCOVILLE ABOVE SOOT ON FAMOUS BIRTHDAYS

[punkahudsonia]

in honor of our friend Jonathan and his recent travels I want you all to know that during a recent talk about spices I told my metamour about his encounter with the "very thirsty" dish made with paprika.

As we are both aficionados of spicy food (she grew up in New Mexico, I'm a recovering survivor of Midwestern Cooking), I took the opportunity to actually look up the Scovilles of the Hungarian paprika used for paprikash/paprika hendl so we could contextually understand just how English our friend Jonathan's palate actually is.

This is the story of how my wife/her girlfriend walked in on us HOWLING with laughter while my metamour exclaimed helplessly "SIR! THAT IS HALF A POBLANO!!"

[sam-starcatcher]

who am i? alright, let’s do this.

samantha starcatcher (call me anything but sam and you’ll have a battle on your hands), student at the academy - or at least i would be, if it weren’t for the puppet master. thanks to that bitch, i got stuck doing errands all across the island to save my one shot at becoming a real wizard. along with my sickass monster team, of course.

my team consists of blizzhared, ice caller, shardic, brumble, painter sprite, scovile, jellish, gatorain, river neek, and cloud neek.

i’ve built up quite the collection during my travels, and now, i think i could forgo the academy entirely. after all, i’ve made my own education, haven’t i? at least, it was made for me…

i’m happy to keep my reputation to duelist and bounty hunter. they got their hero, now i’ve got my life. and a tumblr account. hooboy.

(note: this is a roleplay account for prodigy, owned by @mari-the-tortured-poet. if you know me from my other blog, then shh! this is a semi-secret)

[sealeneee]

got a new friend :3