#send me a prompt <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[pookiebearmick]

prompts!

hello <3 i have been enjoying the little galladrabbles i've done and i think i would like to write a little more! send me a prompt from this or this list of physical affection/non-sexual intimacy posts and i'll write some cute fluffy gallavich for u

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[rawbin-hsr]

Aventurine x Reader

You treat Aventurine with more respect than he deserves.

Read part 2 here !

Only barely proof-read, guaranteed to have lots of grammatical errors, English is not my first language and I am experimenting with my writing style <3

CW: smut, handjob (Aventurine receiving), dehumanisation (internal, thoughts Aventurine has of himself, referring to himself as a “monster”), feelings of inadequacy, hurt/very little comfort, crying, mentions of death, at some points this seems like dubcon because Aventurine speaks of feeling “dread”, but it’s NEVER intended to be read as him not wanting to receive touch from reader, it is meant to convey how little he thinks he deserves this. The smut is soft and gentle, but Aventurine’s internal thoughts definitely are not <3

Lmk if there’s anything else I should warn about !!

18+, minors will be blocked <3

Your touch is so kind. Soft and gentle, as if he is made of the finest porcelain, as if he is a fragile flower, as if he is delicate. It is cruel, he thinks, that he has made you think he is any less than a monster. It is cruel that he hasn’t pushed you away, when he knows he will devour you. It has become part of his nature.

But how can he push you away when you are so persistent? How can he push you away when you roll with his punches, when you go along with each and every one of his pushes and pulls? It is hard to keep you out when you insistently pry your way into what’s left of his soul, when you gaze upon the rotten corpse that he is and still claim him to be beautiful. He thinks you must be blind at best and naive at worst.

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper reverently, and though Aventurine knows his body is, he also knows that is not the part of him you’re referring to. Not when your hand rests on his chest, above the empty cavern where his heart is meant to be.

You kiss his neck and he shivers. There’s a pit in his stomach, knotting his insides with dread.

He should tell you to stop, should warn you that he’s deceiving you, that he’s not the person you think he is. Should show you that he is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, that he is a bad omen. But he can’t bring himself to. Not when being with you feels so good, not when he’s self-indulgent to a fault, and he can’t help himself with you. He is the worst mistake you could ever make, in part because he can’t even stop from letting you continue to make it.

His hands rest on the back of your neck, fingers tangled in your hair. It is unfair how good your touch feels, his back arching just from mere caresses upon his skin. You play him like he’s an instrument you’ve practiced for years, despite never having fucked him before. He digs his heels into your back as your hand wraps around his dick, and he whines into your shoulder when you lovingly stroke it.

“I love you,” you murmur as he pulls on your hair, as his nails dig into your skin, and he wants to cry. He will destroy you from the inside out, he knows, or maybe he will kill you before he gets the chance to. He can never keep the things he loves alive.

Your lips kiss his skin, and he moans brokenly as your thumb glides over the head of his cock, pushing down on the tip. His hips rock up to meet your hand, and he feels ashamed of how blatantly he allows himself to enjoy you, how blatantly he allows himself to use you. You deserve so much better, but you are the best thing that he has ever managed to get his bloodstained hands on, and so he can’t help himself. He wants you to remain unaware of how much better you could do. He wants you to stubbornly remain by his side even when he makes it hard for you to do so. He wants to bare every part of his being to you so you can see how little worth he is to you. He wants you to run from him before it’s too late.

But part of him knows he already has shown you himself, that you’ve seen who he is and you still love him. You must be stupid.

“Use me,” he begs you, wishing you’d do something with him to alleviate the guilt he feels, so it would at least be mutual. His hands cling to you, and he whimpers pathetically when you lean back to look down at him. “Use me, please. Please…”

And your eyes are so kind. Your eyes are so sweet and soft and human, and everything he is not.

“Shh,” you hush him, tenderly pressing a kiss to his lips. He sobs, feeling embarrassing tears fill his eyes as you press closer to him, the touch so caring and innocent yet so lewd as your hand tugs at him. “Just let me make you feel good, okay?”

And you do. You always keep true to your words, unlike him. It’s barely a minute later that his breath hitches and he keens, nearly wailing into your neck as he comes undone under your too loving hands. It’s obscene, and he feels filthy as his semen paints your hand and splatters on his lower stomach. He has soiled your perfect skin, has dirtied your perfect body. He hopes you will let go of him and wash yourself up, then leave him here, broken on the bed in the mess he’s created. That you will leave him to pick up the pieces of himself he has left. He is undeserving of you.

And yet he only feels your love swaddle him when his body relaxes, adoring praises and sweet words tumbling from your perfect lips as your perfect hands gently stroke his body, soothing him as if he is deserving. Your perfect body presses closer to him, no doubt getting his mess on your perfect abdomen as you almost lay yourself flat on him. You pepper perfect kisses all over his face, and he realises belatedly he’s crying. For the first time in ten years. Fat tears rolling down his cheeks, and he doesn’t know for what reason.

But you seem like you do know. You look so understanding, wiping his tears with an achingly kind, perhaps slightly sad smile, and you don’t ask him why.

“I’ve got you now, it’s okay,” you say instead. And you do, because you always keep true to your word.

And he is selfish, because he doesn’t stop you. He lets you clean him up, lets you kiss his tears away, lets you take care of him. Lets you climb into bed with him afterwards, unaware that you have brought the monster under your bed up into your loving arms. He hasn’t felt so much love since he was nine.

And he is selfish, because even though he can already feel his claws dig into your flesh as he holds you in return, he cannot bring himself to pull away. He can only hope he won’t dig in his heels when you eventually see reason and try to leave. He can only hope you will have the time to get away before he kills you.

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

My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3

[leclerity]

stupid gets you killed

Charles Leclerc x Girlfriend!Reader count: 1.1k words summary: Charles and you have an emotional conversation after his reckless driving at a race. a/n: a short but angsty one, with a happy ending!

It could’ve been the end.

The way it felt, it almost was.

You watch as the red of the Ferrari and the green of the Aston Martin come close, inches apart, with Stroll nearly putting it in the back of your boyfriend’s car. Everyone around you gasps and for a split second, you see them touch and Charles’s car fly off into the grandstands – but that doesn’t happen. They don’t touch. Charles drives away unscathed, though you know that won’t be the end of it.

“That was too close,” says Arthur, shaking his head at the screen.

“He won’t like this too much,” you say and grab a pair of headphones lying around, listening in.

Everything is okay with the car, Bryan Bozzi says.

That was not okay! Charles screams. Who does he think he is?! Driving like an idiot… He should know better!

Keep your head calm, you’ve got forty laps to go.

You take off the headphones and tell Arthur what you just overheard. He shakes his head again, but you both know there’s nothing the two of you can do about it. Charles has been under pressure, ready to burst at any given moment, running second in the championship with maybe—maybe—a chance at something more. Anything that threatens it… Well, it throws him off.

You’re just waiting for the moment it happens.

The race keeps running, you listen in to the radio every so often, and his complaints and agitation are getting more obvious. He’s driving riskier, not caring enough about tyre management, and there’s a few moments when his car gets a little too close to another car.

He finishes in fourth. It’s not where he wanted to be but it’s better than out of the race, you tell yourself. There was a few moments where you held your breath, waiting to see if the anger is going to slip into careless mistakes, and it made you angry. Your boyfriend is better than this.

When he finishes the race, you run straight into his arms. “You did so well! I’m proud of you.”

“I could’ve done better,” he says.

“I know,” you say, and kiss him again. “Next time.”

Charles kisses you, too, before going to speak to others in the garage, keeping one eye on you at all times. You know he’s being hard on himself, but you see his clenched jaw, sunken shoulders, and you know this is going to be a tougher one than usual.

He’s in your orbit the most of the evening, glancing at you even when he’s in the media pen. You can hear some of the questions he’s being asked and a lot of them are about the incident and about his dangerous driving he nearly got a penalty for, and you can already hear the regret in his voice. He looks at you every time it comes up, as if he already knows how much it upset you.

At your side, Arthur gives you a nudge. “Are you going to talk some sense into him when you’re back at the hotel?”

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.”

“That was scary.”

You nod. “Too scary. I get the pressure and all, but…”

“Yeah,” Arthur says, “I don’t want to feel like I might lose my brother because he’s being angry and stupid.”

When you get home, you get dinner – he does the perfunctory celebrations and goes back to the hotel, where you’re waiting with him with your guys’ favourite takeaway. He had some time to hang out with the other drivers and now it’s time to hang out with you… But not before you give him a piece of mind.

He knows something’s wrong the moment he enters the hotel room.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you say.

He frowns. “Okay. You sure?”

You give him a long look.

Charles sits down next to you, looking exhausted but ready to devour the food – but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits with his elbows on his knees, hands held together. “It’s the race.”

“Mhm.”

“That’s why you’re giving me attitude.”

“Mhm.”

“Is it because of the Stroll incident?”

You shake your head. He should know better and he does, it will just take him a moment.

He sighs and leans into the couch, a defeated look on his face. “I should’ve handled it better, right?”

“Yeah.” You put a hand on his thigh. “Driving like that, Charles… You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“I would’ve been fine.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Babe—”

“Don’t babe me,” you say, shaking your head. “You got angry and…. Anger makes you stupid. Stupid gets you killed.”

Charles opens his mouth and closes it, knowing fair well that there’s nothing he could say in his defence that would make you change your mind. He sees it all on your face, you know it – the terror you’d gone through waiting to see if his anger will make him slip up, make a mistake; the threat of losing him.

He takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it, before placing it on his chest, right where his heart is. “Y/N,” he says, gently. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let my anger get the best of me.”

“I just… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know.”

“It frightens me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I just—The thought of you—”

“I know. C’mere.”

Charles gives your hand a gentle tug and then your head is on his chest and his arms are wrapped around you, keeping you warm and safe. “I’m sorry for scaring you. My job is scary, but I shouldn’t make it any more difficult than it already is.”

He kisses the top of your head and you feel a few tears escaping down your cheeks, and he holds you even tighter.

“I’ll be less angry next time, I promise,” he whispers. “Less stupid. For you. Okay?”

You nod instead of answering, and he pulls your chin up with a gentle finger, and then he’s wiping your tears and kissing you gently, promising over and over again to never make you feel like that again – and he doesn’t.

[biblically-accurate-dca]

day 16: object head !

[nottsangel]

https://www.tumblr.com/rafesmuse/743661178308427776/rafe-cameron-the-type-of-boyfriend-to-keep-your?source=share

this!!! but you’re Sarah’s best friend. Rafe being a dick constantly finds a way to flash your nudes in front of her. One day she asks when you got that tattoo because she’s never seen it before. You think no one but rafe should be able to see that tattoo, when the realisation hits you turn bright red and you definitely shout at him about it later that night but he’s too busy trying to undress you to listen

link!

omg pls he’s such a fucking dickhead sdjdkdkd like that man does not give a fuck! he’d be with sarah in the house when he ‘accidentally’ drops his wallet with your nudes inside of it and acts like he doesn’t notice so she picks it up for him. “rafe you dropped your wa- what the fuck is this?” “oh whoops, im just so clumsy, aren’t i?” he’d reply sarcastically with a smug smile on his face as he snatches the wallet from sarah’s hand.

“i didn’t know you had a tattoo” sarah would later bluntly say when you’re hanging out together, completely catching you off guard. “what? i- i mean, i do, but how do you kn-“ your eyes instantly widen when the realisation eventually hits.

so later that night, you storm into rafe’s room, shouting, while he just lazily sits on his bed, scrolling on his phone. “RAFE CAMERON, I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD. why the FUCK did sarah see those pictures?!” “jesus, relax baby, it was just an accident, a’ight?” he snaps back as you now sit next to him on the bed, still glaring at him with an infuriated expression. “rafe! those are meant for your eyes only!” he’s too busy now attentively pulling the traps of your top down, not even paying attention to what you’re saying anymore. “yeah yeah, i’ll be more careful next time, got it. now, c’mere and let me make it up to you.”

[frogcereal29]

Nikto x savior!reader

So IDK what i was going for with this- but reader saves Nikto's life and he is... Grateful, in his own special Nikto way :)

Also Witten entirely in bulletpoints like hcs sjsgskshs cause heaven forbid I have to write a continuous story without any sudden jumpcuts when I can't come up with more shit to fill the space😭😭

Warning for military inaccuracies, mentions of religion, and google translated russian‼️ also nikto's thoughts & actions are a bit obsessive. 18+ preferably

- He thought it was over. The building was about to collaspe, almost everyone else had been able to get out, but he was injured in the leg, and the fire was surrounding him. It wasn't the worst way to go, he supposed, a bit unmemorable. But who remembers a nobody anyways? Thats all he was.

- "You're not going to die." a voice? He knows that voice.

- you were one of his teammates, he recognized you from trainings and mealtimes, you never stood out to him before though. Just another body. But now. You were attempting to hoist him over your shoulder, despite him being so much bigger than you.

- "что? What did you say?" He rasps, voice weak. The smoke was starting to get to him. It didn't help he's been smoking for years, making his lungs shitty as can be.

- "I said, you're not going to die. We're not going to die." You seemed so self-assured, despite the seeming hopelessness of the situation, you started down a path yet to be touched by the flames, but one that was in the process of collasping, meaning you had to act fast. Jogging your way through the smoke, trying to keep your breathing steady.

- He knew you could go faster if you would just drop him. You would've been out of the building by now.

- "Just drop me. Im dead weight." He begs, his vision clouding as oxygen struggled to find its way to his lungs. His body trembled, his eyes stung and watered. But he wasnt scared. No.

- his time with Zakhaev taught him there are fates much worser than death. He's seen enough to last a lifetime, so he wouldn't mind dying so you could live, even if he didn't really know or care about you.

- "No." Was all you said back. So defiantly to a man who could kill your smaller form so quickly, of course, he was in no state to do so, but your firm rejection shocked him. He usually didn't have to ask twice for things, people usually understood what he was about and listened the first time.

- "We're not going to get out in time, save yourself. ты идиот? ты на самоубийственной миссии?" He cursed you off in Russian, flying right into one of your ears, and right back out the other.

- And then you did the absolute unthinkable. You were consoling him. Muttering phrases of reassurance and comfort. What the fuck?

- "you're going to be ok.", "Keep breathing.", "The team needs you Nikto.", "We need you."

- to say he was shook would be an understatement. You weren't technically doing anything wrong. And it wasnt like he'd never received help before. But never in his goddamn life, or at least never in this field of work, had anyone ever been so gentle and caring about it. To a stranger none the less. Yes, you were teammates through the PMC you both worked for, but that was the extent of your relationship prior to this, you had no worldly reason to risk your life for him, yet here you were. It dumbfounded him.

- you come to an exit, only to find it swarmed with flames. The only way out, you were surely doomed.

- "hang on." You said, and started running. Nikto would've screamed at you had he anymore strength. He was right, you were a suicidal lunitac, even moreso than him.

- congrats, you've startled nikto (I wouldn't say scared, he doesn't get scared to often) running into the wall of flames. He closed his eyes.

- It only lasted a second or two, nikto felt the flames brush his skin, and no doubt yours too. Searing away any exposed hairs on your body and face. But you flew through the doorway and stumbled out into the grass.

- when the coolness of the night air flew in through his mask holes, he shivered. How you two survived, he genuinely didn't know.

- He had abandoned all his faith, God ignored his cries and prayers when he was being tortured, something Nikto could never forgive, but in this moment he was thanking him again. Not just for his safety, but for the angel he just sent him. Thats what you must be. An angel. It wasn't his time and God sent this angel to carry him to safety.

- seconds later, the building completely collasped, but like a sick ass action movie, you didn't look back. Carrying Nikto to safety.

- When your walkie talkie catches a singal, asking for your status and reporting Nikto's MIA status. The team, whereever they regrouped, must've noticed your absence.

- "alive." You say informally into the walkie, "Nikto is with me." You report back, Nikto tunes you out as you dicuss further plans of meet up with your team, Nikto is just thinking about you.

- it isn't long until the team came to your aid, the combat nurse who came along on the mission took Nikto from your arms, and checked you down for injuries as well.

- everything ended up working out, the mission was a success despite some of the causalities, and you and Nikto made it out alive with only minor outter injuries and a bit of internal damage from the smoke inhalation, nothing you two couldn't sleep off in the hospital.

- life for you went back to normal after everything was said and done. But Nikto? Oh no. No no no. You changed everything for him. He would repay you, somehow, someway. He owed the angel his life. Eго ангел.

- everyone except you seems to take notice of a pattern immediately: wherever you were, Nikto would start showing up too. His previously reclusive behavior abandoned as he put himself in more social situations around base simply to be in the same room as you.

- maybe someone will eventually point it out to you, if it doesn't eventually become painfully obvious, finding flowers and russian chocolates outside your door all the time.

- hell, some nights you wake up in a sweat from a nightmare, and swear you can sometimes see a figure standing in the corner of your barracks, and a gentle voice distantly whispering to you, still delirious and sleepy.

- "Тсс, ангел, это всего лишь сон, я защищу тебя так же, как ты защитил меня."

- Your kindness wss like a drug in his head. He almost wants to injure himself on purpose nearby you, maybe you'd scoop him up, kiss his forehead, and tell him everything was going to be alright.

- Maybe you'd personally wrap his wounds and carry him back to your bed, and lay with him. He was sure he'd heal faster having you around, his pain always went away when you were near.

- His thoughts get a little deranged from time to time, but he tries to be so controlled with you, his little bird. And he is. He never acts out around you, even when everyone is being annoying and he has to stare off into the distance real still or else he's going to snap and kill everyone here. The last thing he wants is to scare you.

- He may be Nobody, but you, that fateful day, made him feel like a somebody. You brought back a small piece of Andre. And he will forever be yours. Please accept him, angel. He will take such good care of you

(ty for reading! If you haven't read but would like to check out my nikto and krueger hcs their under the tag #lexwrites, also my new writing account is @evilfrogcereal29, where i soley post writing n art now (I have no art posted yet😭) sooooo yea, hope you enjoyed I love yall /p)

[triona-tribblescore]

I saw you wanted fluffy suggestions so here ya go:

Baby Mikey blabbering and Donnie responding like it’s a philosophical discussion.

Big! Sweaters! Big fluffy sweaters!

Disaster twins in the get along shirt

Raph and Leo in the get along shirt

Raph napping while Donnie happily rants to him

All boys walking together down an overgrown subway tunnel and relishing in sunlight and plants!(if ya need some background practice)

sooo uhhh, this ask may be four months old BUT! I was saving it for a rainy day and, would you look at that, its raining outside :D

some close-ups :)

[katzirrart]

Slides this through the mail slot and vanishes in a puff of smoke.

My bestie has been sending me prompts all month and listen, I'm weak. Us talking about my ranger and how she hunts down any little shiny thing for her rogue - stooooop...

[acealistair]

RPG Character Development Questions!

Trying my hand at making one of these, specifically aimed towards D&D characters but it should also work for other TTRPGs and video games like Dragon Age.

Send me any number of emojis for any of my characters! Anyone is welcome to reblog! 😊

~*~*~CHARACTER DESIGN~*~*~

👀: Describe their physical appearance in as much detail as possible. Facial features, colors, height, build, etc. 👄: How do they talk? What's their vocabulary like? What does their voice sound like? Any accent, verbal tics, etc? 👃: Do they smell like anything in particular? Why do they smell like that? 🏷️: What is their full name? Do any of their names have any special meaning? How did you come up with them? 🌳: What physical traits did they inherit from their biological parents? Do they look more like one parent than the other? ♦️: Are there any motifs you associate with them? What do those motifs represent thematically? 🎨: What is their color scheme? Or at least colors you associate them with? 🔮: If they were to feature in the art of a tarot card, which one would it be and why? 💭: What was the original concept for your OC? Has it changed at all since then? 📺: Is your OC inspired at all by characters from other media? Which one(s) and what traits do they have in common? 🛡️: How does their class inform their characterization? How does their personality match or clash with the stereotype for that class? 📖: Describe your ideal character arc for them. How do you envision them changing by the end of the story?

~*~*~SKILLS/HOBBIES~*~*~

📊: What is their best stat? What is their worst/dump stat? How do these affect how you roleplay as them? 🗡️: What type of weapon do they normally use? Is there a particular reason for it? ✨: Are they a magic user? If so, how did they come to learn it (born with it, studied, acquired, etc.)? What does their magic look like when cast? If not, what is their attitude towards magic? 🖌️: What is their go-to hobby? When did they start learning it? Why do they like it? 🔨: Do they have any practical skills they wouldn't consider a hobby? What sorts of skills and how/why did they learn them? 🍳: Are they good at cooking? Do they like to? Why and how did they learn to cook, or, if they didn't, why didn't they? 🎵: Are they any good at singing? What situations do/would they sing in? Would they sing in the shower? 🎻: Do they know how to play an instrument? If so which one(s)? Do they enjoy music in general? 💃: How do they feel about dancing and are they any good at it? Do they prefer solo, partnered, or group dancing? 🚗: In a modern AU, what kind of job would they have, if any? 🎁: If they needed to give a friend a gift, how would they go about choosing one? Would they buy it, make it, or do something else? Would others consider them good at gift-giving? 📚: Do they like to read books? If so, what sorts of books do they prefer to read? If not, why don't they like reading? ✍: What does your character's handwriting look like? Do they write letters often? What other contexts do they usually write in, if any?

~*~*~PERSONALITY~*~*~

🙂: What are three of their personality traits that others would generally consider positive? 🙁: What are three of their personality traits that others would generally consider negative? 😱: Do they have any irrational fears/phobias? How do they cope with them? Has a phobia ever impacted the game you play them in? 😭: How easily do they cry? Do they ever cry in front of other people? When was the last time they cried? 💢: How quick are they to anger? What is a surefire way to piss them off? What do they act like when angry? 😄: How can you tell when they're really happy? What sorts of things make them happy? How often do they smile? 😳: How easily are they embarrassed/flustered? What sorts of things catch them off-guard and make them lose their cool? 🏁: What do they consider to be their main goal in life, the thing that motivates most of their actions? 🤲: Do they have any deep desires that they don't talk about and/or don't even realize they have? Do these desires conflict with their main goal at all? 🗣️: How social are they? Do they speak to strangers because they like to or only when necessary? How differently do they act with strangers vs. friends? 🐾: How do they feel about animals? Do they have/want any pets? Do they have a favorite animal?

~*~*~BACKSTORY~*~*~

😬: Did they ever make a major decision in their past that they regret? How are they handling it now? 🙏: What are their feelings on religion? If they are religious, what do they practice? How much of an impact does it have on their daily life? 🎓: What was their education like? Do they have any favorite subjects? What is their preferred learning style? 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦: What is their family like? Are there any family members that are particularly influential and/or important to them (whether in a positive or negative sense)? 🛝: Do they have any childhood friends? If so, are they still in touch with them? What is their relationship like now (or why did it end)? 🧸: What was their favorite childhood toy and why? 🚸: Would they consider their childhood to have been a happy one? Why or why not? Does their perception of that differ from yours as their player? 🌹: Are they experienced romantically? How many romantic partners have they had? How has this affected their view of romance? 😡: Do they have any enemies and/or rivals from their past? How serious of a threat are they to your OC?

~*~*~RELATIONSHIPS~*~*~

💘: Do they have a "canon" romantic partner? If so, who is it and what is their relationship like? If not, what kind of person would be the optimal romantic partner for them (the most interesting narratively, not necessarily the healthiest/what they think their preferences are)? 😍: What traits, physical and/or mental, do they find attractive in other people? 💒: How does your character feel about marriage? Have their feelings on marriage ever changed? 🎉: Who are their party members/companions? Describe each of their relationships with your OC (however brief or detailed you want). 💍: Among their current companions, are there any that are narrative foils to your OC? How so? 🍼: How do they feel about children in general? Do kids get along with them? Do they have/want kids of their own (now or down the line)? 🤝: How do they express platonic affection? When does an acquaintance become a friend for them? 🥰: Who do they currently consider to be their best friend and why? Has their best friend changed over time? 🫂: How are they with casual physical touch? Do they have different boundaries based on how well they know a person? Is there a specific reason behind their comfort level?

[blazeeblake]

Unsettling

Inspired by this post. I wrote this late at night, zoning out on cold medicine while attempting to recover from a booster shot, so I can’t vouch for the quality 😅:

Dinner had been going great as far as Buck could tell. He and Tommy were still in the figuring it out stage of things, but a meal with Chim and Maddie felt like a step in the right direction; at least, up until the moment his sister unsuspectingly guided the conversation into a minefield.

“So, Tommy,” she began between bites of salad, “I have to say, I was really surprised when my brother told me about your date — not so much in terms of the pronouns of it all, but because the way he told it, you were way more focused on Eddie when you two met.”

Tommy shrugged, pushing around the remainders of his own plate, “Course correction’s a skill you hone when you’re tangling with baby gays— not that I’m sure Eddie even counts in that department. At this rate he’s essentially embryonic. Like, indefinitely.” Maddie cocked her head to the side, whatever follow up she may have had fading away into a loaded silence that descended over the room.

“H-huh,” Chimney chuckled unevenly, “well, uh, I don’t want to speak for anyone that’s not here but I’m pretty sure—“

“Wait,” Buck interrupted, brows knitting together, “You were trying to date Eddie?”

“Uh, yeah,” Tommy replied, as if it was painfully obvious, “At least, until I realized where things stood with him, and then I—

“Course corrected?” Buck finished, “With me. Your second choice.”

“Oh, like I’m not your second choice. Seriously, Evan, don’t be dramatic.”

“Maddie, honey,” Chimney broke in, rising out of his seat, “why don’t we go get dessert ready?”

“Ready?” Maddie repeated, eyes darting between her brother and his date, “It’s already—“

“What are you talking about?” Buck pressed, far too preoccupied with his burgeoning confusion to notice Chimney coaxing his quietly protesting sister out of the room.

Tommy rolled his eyes, pointedly setting his fork down, “Oh come on. Eddie’s on a special level of oblivious— and I mean, no surprise there, Catholicism builds its closets nice and sturdy— but you can’t expect me to believe you’re just as clueless, Mr. Trying to get my attention by pulling another boy’s pigtails.”

“Wha— No,” Buck sputtered, his breath hitching strangely and tripping him up, “Th-that wasn’t about Eddie. He’s not even— and even if he was, we’re not… I mean, we wouldn’t.”

“Right, because you’re scared it would burst the little bubble you two live in where you can have your cake and call it normal friendship,” Tommy concluded, his tone once again gratingly matter of fact, “Face it. A relationship with Eddie is heavy lifting from any angle, so we both opted out for each other, no harm, no foul.” Buck blinked, momentarily stunned into silence as his mind tried and failed to construct a solid counter to the conclusion Tommy had all but thrown in his face. All of it made sense, perhaps more sense than the raw foundations of yet another relationship built on someone else’s initiative and his own need to reach for any degree of being wanted, no matter how scant. The truth of it all stung and made his heart beat faster than he could stand, but at the same time there was something freeing in all that chaos.

“He’s not,” Buck managed softly.

“Gay?” Tommy replied, “Right, and Elton John just needs to meet the right girl.”

Buck shook his head, “No, I mean, he’s not heavy lifting or whatever you said. If you think that, you don’t know him at all— a-and maybe you don’t know me either if you think I’d feel that way.”

“Ev—“

“It’s Buck. And if all of this was settling then I guess you were right the first time: I’m not ready.” Tommy eyed him for a beat before sighing and pushing his chair back from the table.

“At least you’re consistent,” he said as he stood and began making his way to the front door, “A little slow on the draw but still miles more self aware than your buddy. I’d say good luck pulling him out of Narnia, but I’m not gonna hold my breath.” Buck didn’t respond, instead opting to drop his gaze to the floor and let his racing thoughts drown out his surroundings until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m guessing you heard all that?” He asked.

“Sorry,” Maddie said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze, “The acoustics down here are pretty unforgiving, privacy-wise.

“Sorry I ruined dinner,” he muttered.

“Technically,” Maddie reasoned, “I started it, so—-“

“I vote we blame no Buckley or Hans ,” Chimney said, dropping into the seat Tommy had vacated, “and we call this a win because screw that guy. I’m all for second chances but that dude’s practically on his fourth and he just keeps blowing it.”

“What am i supposed to do now?” Buck asked, turning to look up at his sister.

Maddie offered him a small, tight-lipped smile, “it’s like I said before: whatever you need to do, you’ll do it in your own time.”

“Right, but what if I screw it all up? He’s going through so much right now already and I don’t want to be one more thing he has to deal with.”

“I mean, maybe him going through things is the silver lining, you know? He’s figuring out his future and there’s room for you to work out where—not if— you fit in all of that. Because, for what it’s worth, I can’t picture a scenario where you two don’t figure it out. I can’t promise it’ll go the way you want it to, but I think you owe it to each other to talk.”

Chimney nodded, “As a daily witness to you guys being… well, you, I second that. And who knows? Maybe it all does work out. You communicate instead of fighting in a supermarket or shoving each other on a basketball court, and before you know it, you’re up close and personal with that glorious mustache of his.”

“Oh, Howie,” Maddie scoffed, “that mustache is definitely just a phase. One that maybe proves my point, but a phase nonetheless.”

“You bite your tongue. It’s beautiful and here to stay.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is there something you need to tell Eddie? Or, his facial hair?”

For the second time that evening, Buck let the conversation fade into the background of his thoughts; or rather, the one thought that all the rest had melded into.

He loved Eddie—was in love with Eddie— and as terrifying as it was, the truth of it loomed too large to be reburied or ignored. He didn’t know if time and talking were the remedies his family made them out to be, but if there was any chance at all in them, he was stubborn enough to find out. The way he saw it, he’d practically been holding his breath all this time without knowing anyway, so what was a little while longer if it meant Eddie at the finish line? Unlike a certain helicopter pilot, Buck had the stamina not to settle.

[demigod-of-the-agni]

Shameless Koffee with DD/Koffee with Karan ripoff, because that's what Pavitr would have wanted

Send me prompts on what should be discussed in the upcoming interviews with our guests!!

[its-jaytothemee]

Could you please write something about a wood elf Druid tav getting a bad fever/sickness after collapsing just as she steps in the door of the elfsong tavern rooms from the horrible miasma of the bhaal temple and a romanced Halsin tends to her and watches over her

Finally had a chance to get this finished! Sorry for the wait, life just got a little hectic but I didn't forget about you :) Thanks for the prompt, this was fun to write!!

Have a fluffy hurt/comfort piece for this fine Monday.

Also posted on AO3 if you prefer

Pairing: Halsin/Tav (f!reader)

Tags: Fluff, hurt/comfort, not NSFW but alludes to sex toward the end.

Word count: 2,641

Baldur’s Gate goes against everything you stand for. Nature, harmony, peace, community. But not even the city itself with its walls of stone and locked doors to prevent helpless refugees from entering could compare to the horror of the Bhaal temple lying in wait beneath it.

At least on the surface you could still breathe the fresh air, listen to the singing birds flying high above the stone walls, hear the breaking of the waves in the harbor. Nature is out of balance in the city yes, but down here? Here in this wretched temple the scale has broken completely. Only death and suffering and a necrotic miasma that seeped its way into every fiber of your being can be found in the God of Murder’s domain.

The battle with Orin the Red had been vicious. You and your companions fought with brutal ferocity to end her reign of blood and carnage in Bhaal’s name. Though as the fight persisted, you noticed a corruption to your magic. The beautiful verdant vines that you would usually call forth to ensnare your enemies had taken on a sickly brown color. When you try to call on the magic granted to you by Silvanus to heal your allies’ wounds, the bright magic flickers at your fingertips before puffing out of existence. A horrible burning sensation seizes your throat for a moment before a dull ache takes its place.

No matter, we’re leaving this accursed temple. I just need some fresh air. The stench of death is simply clouding my mind.

“You okay, soldier?” Karlach kneels on the bloodied floor, clutching the large gash on her arm.

“I…I think so. This rotten temple must be affecting my connection to the Weave.” You respond as the light pricking pain behind your eyes builds to a loud pounding. Given your magic seems to be touchy here in the temple, you opt to give your friend a potion from your bag.

“This should make it manageable until we can get out of this place.” You go to take a step towards the exit, but your head swims and your vision darkens. Luckily, a deep breath steadies your legs and pushes the fatigue from your mind so you can continue your way to the surface.

You never thought you would be so happy to see the streets of Baldur’s Gate. A new appreciation swells within you after your time in the temple. Sure, there’s hardly any trees and the only animals you see running about are the stray cats and dogs or an occasional rat, but at least now you know there’s far worse things.

“Hells…” You press your hand to your temple as the sun pierces your eyes, agitating the already pounding ache you feel behind them.

“Tav?” Wyll looks at you with deep concern. “You don’t look so good, friend.”

His hand extends to touch your forehead, which you now realize is coated in a thin layer of sweat.

“I…I’m fine. I just need to get back and rest is all.” You try to inhale the surface air, desperate to clear the deathly fog still lurking from the Bhaal temple.

Your companions keep a wary eye on you as you all continue your trek through the Lower City. Normally, you’d stop at some of your preferred vendors to sell some of the bits and baubles you’ve picked up on your latest quest. Today though, everyone insists on getting you back to the Elfsong so Halsin can tend to whatever sickness obviously plagues you.

Halsin…

At least the thought of him makes you smile and helps push the pain away for a moment. Your sweet, considerate, strong, bear of an elf. All of a sudden, you feel dizzy again, but not from the incessant ringing in your ears or pounding against your skull.

The familiar sounds and smells of the Elfsong Tavern pull you away from your daydreams. Normally, the smells of wine and stew and bread would make your mouth water, but right now they cause an uneasy churning in your stomach. You gag to keep what little food you’ve eaten today in your body. With some significant help from Karlach, you make your way up the stairs.

Surely they’ve added at least twenty more since we last left?

By the time you’re standing outside the door to your large, rented room, the light layer of sweat coating your skin has drenched your underclothes. You gasp for breath, the taste of death still prevalent on your tongue from your time beneath the city.

The doors open, and you can hear your friends speaking to you, but everything is warbled in your ear. You see Halsin come running up to you, a look of panic spreading across his face.

What’s wrong, my love?

You try to form the words as you feel his arms wrap around your waist, but everything fades to black.

***

“Tav!” Halsin calls out to you, but your unconscious body remains limp in his arms. “What happened?” He looks to the rest of your companions who had accompanied you to the temple of Bhaal.

“I don’t know!” Karlach starts to pace as he picks you up to lay you down on your shared bed. “She almost seemed sick, like they couldn’t breathe properly with the air in the temple.”

“She tried to cast a healing spell on Karlach but couldn’t form the magic. Come to think of it, she seemed to have trouble casting any of her normal spells.” The alarm in Wyll’s voice is evident as your labored breaths slow with each rise and fall of your chest.

He kneels next to the bed to examine you. The ragged breaths that rise from your throat fill him with dread. A quick healing spell closes the small cuts you received but does little else.

“Talk to us, Halsin. What’s wrong with her?” Karlach continues her pacing around the room.

“I’m not sure yet. I need some fresh water and the small drawstring pouch from my bag.” Halsin swallows the anxiety threatening to block his throat. Despite his feelings for you, his years of healing experience take over.

Your breathing slows further, and he notices the pallid color of your lips. The veins in your arms start to take on a necrotic black look The others come to his side with the requested items. He dips a clean cloth into the water before running it over your sweat-slicked forehead.

“The air in the temple must have corrupted something within her. I’ve seen this only one other time.”

After the shadows were unleashed at Moonrise, he dragged one of his peers from the curse only to find they had already started weaving their way into his body. Not enough to fully corrupt them, but it had been enough to nearly kill them.

“I need someone to hold her legs and arms, keep her as still as possible.” Karlach and Shadowheart came running to your side, pinning your limbs down as Halsin started another incantation.

He places his hand over your mouth and concentrates on the deathly fog that had settled in your lungs. Moving his other hand across your chest and up your throat, he works to draw the corruption out of your body. Your legs and arms convulse, you try and thrash and writhe at the pain, but your companions hold you still.

It takes a couple of passes and intense concentration from him, but eventually he’s able to rip the disgusting miasma from your body. The horrid green vapor sits heavy in the air as he pulls it from your throat. Gale puffs it away with a quick spell.

As soon as the corruption leaves your body, you take a few deep, gasping breaths. Once again, you’re able to breathe the air around you. The color returns to your lips and cheeks, and the black color following the veins in your arms begins to slowly retreat. Despite the sickness being purged, you remain unconscious.

“Shouldn’t she be waking up?!” Karlach’s panicked voice bounces off the walls.

“She will soon, her body needs rest.” Halsin assures her as he sits next to you on the bed. He brushes the stray hair from your face as your breathing returns to normal.

The small drawstring pouch beside him was filled with various suspensions and salts for his healing remedies. A few of them get wrapped in the cool, damp cloth he had used earlier before he places it over your eyes.

He continues to assure everyone else that you will recover, allowing them the freedom to run errands in the city. The others start gathering their things so they can continue with the day. But Halsin of course stays at the Elfsong with you.

“I’m right here, my heart. I’ll be here by your side until you wake.” Halsin presses another kiss to your forehead as you rest. He moves down to the floor beside you, holding the hand closest to him until your eyes open again.

***

You startle awake, bolting upright to find yourself in one of the Elfsong beds.

“It’s alright, Tav.” Halsin’s soothing voice slows your heart rate. You look over to see him kneeling at your bedside.

“What…what happened?” Every muscle in your body is sore. A dull pain still burns in your lungs, as if the nasty haze from the temple had to be ripped out of them. Your hands clutch your chest as you try to catch your breath.

“I’m not entirely sure.” Halsin takes one of your hands and gives it a light kiss. “Can you tell me what you remember from your time in the Bhaal temple? The others said you seemed to have trouble with even basic spells.”

You recount the fight in as much detail as you can recall, but your memory is as hazy as the air you remembered breathing. But you can recall the vivid memory of your tainted magic.

Halsin looks lost in thought for a moment, his brow furrows as he considers your words. Absentminded strokes from his fingers along your hand soothe away some of the anxiety clouding your mind.

“I see. Bhaal is considered a harshly opposing source to Silvanus. Perhaps being in that temple disrupted your connection. Dare I say almost corrupted it.”

“If I never feel that suffocating fog again, it will still be too soon.” You throw yourself back onto the mattress.

Halsin smiles before breaking into a soft laugh. “At least it didn’t corrupt your sense of humor, my heart.”

“Would you come sit with me?” You desperately need to feel his arms around you.

“Of course.” He picks you up off the bed so he can sit on the soft mattress and nestle you in his lap. You lean into him, resting your head on his chest.

His large arms wrap around your shoulders easily as he pulls you close. The faint scent of herbs and fresh tilled dirt cling to the leather shirt he wears. Years of his time spent in nature weave into every fiber of his being. Warmth and affection seep from every one of his pores as he cradles you in his lap.

“Where are the others? Are they alright?” You ask as one hand moves up to stroke the hair tumbling down your back.

“They’re fine, Tav. They’ve gone out to do some trading so you can rest.”

“Thank you for staying with me.” You turn your face further into his chest as he presses a kiss onto your head.

“As if I would let anyone else watch over your recovery.”

You sit there together in comfortable silence as you have so many times before. As he holds you tight against him, he mutters a few more healing spells, taking away the soreness plaguing your body and the pain in your lungs. Each gentle kiss along your forehead and cheeks drives away the fear that had been gripping you since the temple. Despite the relief you feel, a troubling thought crosses your mind.

“You said the temple could have corrupted my magic. Do you…” You trail off for a moment. Halsin gives you an encouraging squeeze. “Do you think it’s permanent?”

The thought brings tears to your eyes and causes a shiver to run down your body.

“Only one way to find out.” He loosens his grip on your shoulders so you can use your arms freely.

With a deep breath, you draw on your power to conjure a small patch of vines on the floor. In the temple, they had appeared as brown, decaying branches, void of life and color. But now they had returned to their supple, green tendrils. Tiny white flowers adorn the vines as they curl into a content pile.

“No harm done. They’re lovely as ever.” Halsin whispers against your temple. You let out a sigh of relief.

Whatever disruption Bhaal’s unnatural sanctuary had caused was now nothing but a memory. You say a silent prayer of thanks to Silvanus for restoring your connection, for keeping you close to his vitalizing influence. Now that the issue of your magic is handled, another thought crosses your mind. One that brings a playful smile to your lips and a blush to your cheeks.

“You know, if the others are going to be out for a while, we could take advantage of the empty room.”

“Oh? And do you think you’re feeling well enough for such an activity already?” The mischievous gleam in his eye causes your heart to skip a beat. You turn so you can straddle yourself over his legs and look at him head on.

“I guess that decision would be up to my wise healer.” You lean forward to plant a tender, lingering kiss on his lips. His arms snake around your waist to pull you closer.

“I don’t see the harm, so long as he’s gentle with you.” He breathes the words into your ear, the feeling is hot on your already flushed skin.

“I make no promises for myself, though.” You try to kiss him again, but he grabs you by the hips and flips you over so he can hover over you on the bed. The movement startles a yelp out of you, but quickly turns into an eager giggle.

“Oh, but I must insist you relax.” His tone shifts to an excited growl as his approving eyes take in every detail of your face.

“Healer’s orders.”

You laugh and do as you’re told. After all, how could you resist those eyes? You find yourself relaxing into his loving, familiar embrace, and soft kisses, stealing these last few moments to yourselves before your companions return. Before returning to the responsibility of saving Baldur’s Gate, and all of Faerûn along with it.

[shreddies-scribbles]

May I request some Shane and Harvey being cute dorks together :0

of course you can!!! i loved drawing this cuz in my game i imagine shane being my farmers bestie (because my best friend irl always marries him so we all go on double dates 🙈) so i love the relationship between these two!!! they are lil besties teehee i went all out on these cuz i’ve never actually drawn them together :0?!

thanks so much for your request/prompt i hope you enjoy !! <3

​ALSO!! feel free to see this as ship art too!! change out the text in your mind hahah

[benetnvsch]

*squeakytoynoise*

[honey-on-your-tongue]

PLSSS can I have some fem! Na’vi! reader x Jake?

Jake being tied up & reader a soft Dom 😩🙏🏽

giving Jake the sloppiest blowjob he’s ever received and then just touching herself in front of him

And Jake being like „untie me rn, I need to touch you“

and when he’s untied he’s rutting into reader

THIS HAS ME CREAMING MY PANTS NGL 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

“You trust me, don't you, baby?” you ask Jake as you tighten the rope, tying his hands behind his back, ropes working as a halter across his chest to keep him upright against a tree. You make sure he can't pull free before taking a step back.

“Mhmm,” Jake replies, his voice a soft gasp.

The night is dark, soft, the glow of bioluminescent plants outlining your blue skin, putting Jake's desperate features into stark contrast.

You lower yourself to your knees in front of him, eyes looking up at him through your eyelashes. Your plump lips find his thigh, kissing him slowly, gently, your tongue tracing over the trembling muscles.

Jake groans lowly as you reach his cock, your lips kissing the tip as it drips with precum, your tongue trailing up his underside. Jake shudders, throwing his head back and you spit on his cock, your saliva warm as it drips down his length.

“Please,” Jake whines as you wrap your hand around his cock, jerking him, your eyes taking in his reaction, his face contorted into so much neediness, he almost looks in pain.

You lick over the head of his cock before taking him down your throat. Jake gasps quietly, his hips bucking at the sensation of your warm mouth. You allow him to sink all the way in, to the back of your throat, and then you start bobbing your head. Your spit trails out of your lips, down your chin; it rolls down Jake's cock and slithers over his balls, and he can feel it, warm and dripping, and he whines.

“Please, please,” he begs, trying to rut his hips against you, trying to fuck your face, but your hands are on his thighs, holding him in place.

You move back so his cock falls out of your mouth and he whimpers at the loss of you. “Shh, it's okay,” you assure him. “I'll give you what you need, baby. Just be patient for me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jake replies, nodding, his eyes finding yours. You smile up at him as you take him into your mouth again, and he watches as his cock sinks between your lips. “Fuck!” he cries, hands itching to find your hair, to tangle themselves in there, to just touch you.

Jake's cock bruises the back of your throat with every slow movement you make, and he's shaking, his entire body quivering with pleasure. And you continue, your eyes on his face, adoring the way he bites his lower lip to restrain himself from moaning lowly. But that won't do. You want to hear him, want to hear his every gasp and groan and grunt.

You drag your tongue over his underside, increasing your pace, as one of your hands slithers up his thigh, to his balls. You caress them gently, watching his face. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, his mouth falls open in a soundless gasp, and you suck your cheeks in.

“Oh, please!” he whines, muscles tensing, hips jerking. “Please, please.”

You release his cock from your mouth, kissing the tip again before you ask, “Please, what, baby? You know you gotta use your words f'r me, otherwise I can't give you what y'want.”

“Please,” he moans. “Please, make me come. I need y'to make me come. Fuck, please!”

“Much better,” you say, spitting on his cock again, spreading your spit over his warm skin with your hand before taking his cock into your mouth once more, continuing your movements and increasing your pace.

Jake mewls above you, his body shaking. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps, his hips bucking against yours. “Please, please!”

He bites his lower lip again and when you see it, you lightly drag your teeth over his cock, making him gasp. He releases his lip from between his teeth, allowing all his sounds to leave his mouth.

“Yes, yes—fuck, 's so good, 's so fuckin' good,” he slurs, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as the pleasure overcomes him, his orgasm rushing to the surface.

“Fuck, fuck,” he mewls. “Oh, please, let me come in your mouth! Please!” he whimpers, and, of course, you're going to let him.

Your spit coats his length, making his cock easily slip in and out of you, and he can already imagine how sweet and tight your pussy's gonna be. He needs to fuck you, needs to be inside you. But first, he wants to fill your mouth. He loves when you go down on him; it drives him insane, and he'll jerk off to the memory for days to come.

“I'm gonna—I need to—Fuck!” Jake gasps as his orgasm finally crashes through him, wrecking across his body, making his load, thick and warm, spill down your throat. You moan softly at the sensation, and he shudders, his cock twitching between your lips.

“Fuck!” Jake cries as he comes down from his high. “You're fuckin' amazing.”

You release his softening cock from your mouth and lie yourself on the grass, spreading your legs for him to see your slick, needy cunt.

Jake tugs at the ropes that bind him, aching to get to you, but you only smirk at his futile efforts. “Fuck,” he whines, his eyes on your pussy, his tongue needing to taste you. “Untie me. Please, untie me. I need t'touch you.”

You merely smirk again, and say, “You get to watch, and I'd say that's good enough, hm?”

You trail a hand down your torso, finding your clit, gathering the slick from your entrance and smudging it over your clit before rubbing tight, slow circles on the nub.

Jake whimpers. “No, please—Please, I need to touch you.”

You ignore him, allowing yourself to concentrate on the pleasure, throwing your head back as your other hand pushes two fingers inside your cunt. You mewl lowly, gasping, and Jake groans in the background.

“Please! Don't do this t'me! Please!”

You pay him no mind, only curl your fingers upwards, touching your g-spot, applying enough pressure to make you moan softly, your toes curling in the soft grass underneath.

Jake can't take his eyes off you. The glowing ground illuminates your body, gives him a perfect view of your pussy, of the way you fuck yourself, and his cock is hard again, aching to be inside you. His fingers itch to run over your skin, his mouth needs to find yours. This is torture for him, and you're loving it.

“Please,” Jake insists. “Jus' let me fuck you!”

You shake your head. “I'm doing just fine on my own,” you tease, fucking yourself, body quivering as the pleasure increases, coiling low in your stomach.

Jake is whining, thrashing against his ropes, his body aching because he needs you.

You're panting now, back arching. You throw your head back and mewl, pushing your legs further apart, giving Jake an eyeful.

“Please, please, please,” he begs, struggling to free himself of his bindings, but it's impossible. You've ensured he can't pull free.

“Fuck,” you gasp, the sound of Jake begging pushing you closer to the edge. And you can feel your orgasm, a sharp, keen sensation that you recognize with ease.

You increase the pace of your fingers, your other hand applying more pressure to your clit, and you can feel the increasing ecstasy within you.

Your body thrashes, shakes, and you gasp, hips bucking against your hand as your orgasm creeps closer.

“Please!” Jake insists. “Please, please!”

His voice is a mere whimper, a breathless plead, and it's driving you insane.

Your orgasm wrecks through you, but you keep going, continue fucking yourself. And then you feel it, that needy little sensation, growing, growing, growing in the pit of your stomach, and then, you're squirting, slick gushing out of you and soaking your thighs, your hands.

Jake gasps and moans at the sight, his cock painfully hard, as he begs, “Please! Untie me! Please, I just need to touch you!”

You remain where you are, lying on the floor, panting and getting your breath back.

Jake whimpers as he watches you, still struggling against his restraints, and then you finally rise, making your way over to Jake on still wobbly legs.

You hold your hand out to him, covered in your slick, and he opens his mouth, eager. You slip your fingers between his lips, and he licks them all over, groaning at the taste of your pussy. When he's done cleaning your fingers, you pull them out of his mouth and place a soft kiss against his lips. His body jerks as he tries to reach for you, but the ropes keep him back.

You untie him slowly, taking your sweet time, and Jake is almost crying from how long you take.

Finally, he's free, hands released, and he just about pounces on you, his hands grabbing onto your hips, his lips meeting yours.

You chuckle softly as he leads you to the ground, placing you on your back before caging your body under his.

“Please,” he begs. “Oh, let me fuck you, please.”

“That's exactly what I'm gonna do, baby,” you reply as you grab his cock, leading it to your entrance, and he sinks into you, his cock hard and pulsing as it slides into you.

Jake gasps and you moan softly. His hips meet yours; you're full of him, his thick head pressing against your cervix, his rough hands on your hips. You grind your body up to his, and he grunts. “Fuck, I love that.”

You smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer so you can whisper in his ear, “Fuck me like you want to, baby.”

And Jake's thrusts are quick, desperate, little groans and gasps leaving his lips as he messily kisses your jaw, your neck. His hips crash into yours, his cock bruises your cervix, and you cry out, eyes fluttering shut and back arching.

Jake whimpers lowly as you clench around him, his balls slap on your folds and he makes you shudder. He loves how you feel under him, how you let him fuck you, how you manage to have control over the situation even when he's on top.

“You're doing so well, baby,” you tell him and he gasps, biting across your jaw. Your nails drag over his back, making him whine, his cock twitching inside of you. “Doing so well f'r me, my good boy.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “Call me that again. Please, tell me I'm good.”

You chuckle softly before another thrust of his has you seeing stars. “Oh, you're my good boy, hm? Such an obedient thing, baby.”

“'m yours,” Jake gasps. “'m yours.”

“Yeah, y're mine. All mine,” you say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You fuck my pussy so good, baby. Such a good boy.”

Jake groans at the praise, his heart skipping a beat, his body trembling above yours. “Y're gonna let me come inside you, right?” he questions between little whines. “Y'gonna let me fill you, right?”

“Maybe if you ask nicely,” you return, wrapping your legs around his waist, allowing him to sink deeper into you so his cock brushes against your g-spot, making you mewl.

“Please,” Jake begs, kissing your neck, licking his way up to your mouth. “Please, let me come in you. I need to fill you up. Please?”

You grin. “Yes, baby, you can fill me with your cum.”

Jake grunts, increasing his speed, his body alight with the intensity of his pleasure. “Thank you,” he gasps, grinding his hips on yours, rubbing your clit, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. “Thank you f'r letting me fill you. Thank you.”

You barely register his words. His harsh, hurried thrusts have your brain fuzzy with pleasure, your entire being lost to the ecstasy. “Make me come,” you order, legs quaking. “Make me come, Jake. Make me come and than you can fill me.”

Jake's quick to obey. He slides a hand between your bodies and finds your clit, rubbing quick, messy circles on the sensitive bud, ensuring to apply enough pressure to make you cry out.

He angles his hips upward so that his cock is pressing against that spongey spot inside you that makes you cry out and jerk your body. The feeling of his cock bruising your cervix, combined with his rubs on your clit have you clenching around him.

Jake whines, “'s too good, 's too good, your pussy's too good.”

He continues fucking you, his hips bruising yours, your nails leaving bright red marks on his back, your head thrown back. And Jake takes the opportunity to bite your neck, licking over your pulse, savoring the flavor of your skin, inhaling your scent.

Your pleasure feels like liquid fire within you, spreading from your womb to the rest of your body. It overcomes you like wildfire, shocking your every nerve, and makes you whimper and mewl as you feel yourself right on the edge.

Jake can tell you're close by the way your breaths grow into quiet whines and the way your cunt clenches around him. He keeps his pace steady, focuses on coordinating his thrusts and the circles his fingers draw on your clit.

And then your orgasm is bursting through you, like boiling water that washes over your entire body, making you gasp and cry out, “Oh, fuck! That's it! Oh, you good boy!”

And then Jake's over the edge with you, his pleasure bursting through his body, making him tremble above you. His orgasm overcomes him, his cum spilling inside of you in thick, hot ropes of white that drip out of you.

Jake collapses on top of you, resting his head on your chest, and you cradle him in your arms, kissing his head. “You did so good for me,” you praise, brushing his hair off his face. “Always such a good boy.”

And Jake can barely talk. His breathing is uneven, his mind overwhelmed with the feeling of you, his cock twitching as it remains inside you. He just nuzzles his face into your chest, content to be with you, and you both doze off in each other's arms.

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