#shameless stereotyping

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

i really want ian gallagher to listen to david bowie. i don’t even know if he would i just desperately need him to

[khattikeri]

unpopular xiyao opinion: I don't think jin guangyao would call lan xichen 'gege'. not in any cultivation universe, not in a modern au, not even exclusively in bed. nope

[lovekenney]

me staring at the screen on my computer while trevors friends introduce themselves.

[cotcweek]

Welcome to the sixth day of Creek Week 2023!!!!

Today's prompts are...

[piduai]

just saw a white guy throw a plastic bag into a vending machine trash can (meant for bottles only). i hope he and his gf both die

[fanonsupremecy]

Honestly maybe if I started watching this show before season 7 I might have shipped them but can't say for sure because even going back and watching from the beginning... can't say that I really see it. Don't get me wrong. Eddie's a cutiepie but cute boy x cute boy does not equal a worthy ship alone. And let me just say that this is everything I'd have wanted with supernatural. Like this is justice for Dean. Even as a Destiel shipper, if Dean would've gotten anything near what Buck did I would have been so happy, even if it wasn't with Cas. But let's be honest Destiel shippers were never toxic about the ship and Dean/Cas were actually in love with eachother.

"everyone around here agreed on buddie before y'all saw buck kiss a another guy" no we didn't!! you cunts just mercilessly bullied anyone who didn't share your opinions until no one felt safe talking about anything except buddie!

you belittled the other ships and characters, taking experiences from from characters of colour to shove buddie in there (but gods forbid someone write a tsunami redux with any character but buck), ignoring the black lesbians unless you can have them be your gay yodas or need them to be the angry black women protecting your widdle boys

but now there's a new mlm ship that you actually find a threat and y'all are acting like the fandom was sunshine and roses for everybody before tommy came along

you people were and are literally the ones making this fandom toxic. instead of learning to ignore the shit you don't like, like every other fandom does, you just continue to act like the specialist little princess ever, spending your time mocking us for making headcanons and fics and manips, which is literally what fandom is about, but you've made harrassing the cast and crew about your ship going canon your whole fucking identity and are losing your fucking minds

[malfunctions1]

they dont make shows like shameless anymore. i have never felt more emotionally compelled to fictional characters EVER. the family dynamics, GALLAVICH, kev and v's pregnancy troubles, jimmysteve and fiona's relationship, debby and frank's relationship, fucking sheila as a whole. theres so much more but its just so complex and diverse without even trying. easily one of my favorite shows. eleven seasons and it never drags. 👌🏼

[esote-rika]

Surreptitious | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader Category: smut 18+ mdni Content: s1 spence, dom!spence (yeah ik ik, just trust me okay), mentions of blow jobs, deep throating, holding down that leads to bruises Word count: 456 A/N: once again, an itch that would not leave until i wrote about it. Quick drabble just to explore the idea, but if enough people are interested maybe i'll write a full fic who knows.

Nobody could ever tell, and perhaps that's what makes it all the more enticing. To the world, he is, by every account, a stereotypical virgin. Inexperienced. Bumbling in his physicality. He can barely look a beautiful woman in the eye, trips over his words when he talks to people outside of his team. He's pure, dependable. Hell, he had accepted JJ's gentle rejection with a genuine, if a little awkward sort of grace, vowing and fulfilling true friendship instead. 

Spencer Reid is sweet in a way that makes you want to simultaneously tease and nurture him. 

It is the perfect front. 

When you see him in the light of day, in dress shirts that are too big, and glasses that keep slipping down his nose, you will laugh. You will laugh at the irony that in daylight - supposedly meant to unveil, to shed light - people are most ignorant to his true nature. You will laugh at how his eyes are so clear, a luminescent amber that studies the world with earnest curiosity. 

You laugh because they are, without fail, the color of oak when he spends his nights with you. So intensely focused on your expression: hazy and hollow cheeked as he drives his cock into your pretty mouth. Fingers tight in your hair, holding you still, his voice wrecked as he spills his load deep in your throat. 

He is blushing and apologetic in his day to day, a timidity that emphasizes his awkwardness and you will grin as you remember how much he likes to take. He is shameless when shrouded in darkness, taking pleasure both from receiving and giving; fucking you into oblivion and then going down on you before you've had the chance to catch your breath, goading you into more until you're half drunk on his bed, thighs quivering, and then his lips would curl into a smirk. 

Amused, slightly mocking, he cooes filthy words against your inner thighs, hands busy skimming over the goosebumps on your skin.

He says he's mapping out constellations, and laughs at the mindless sound you make, before diving back in again. He holds you down, your thighs and wrists blooming blue and green under his grip, bruises that you would wear with pride if the world wouldn't misconstrue it for abuse. 

But, you both know it's taboo, so he places them methodologically, in areas you can easily hide with clothes, because no one can know, that's the whole point of this. 

He will paint your insides with his seed, make you whine and drool so much you could rival the actors that are paid to film for adult content, but only under the unjudging guise of the night. 

Surreptitious, the way you both like it.

[ozzgin]

The Mean Girl Bully Reader x Nerd Loser Yandere story sparked another red flag reader idea I had 😈

Imagine a Bratty Female Reader x Well Mannered Wealthy Male Yandere. Unlike our favorite monster whore gal, and two-faced bully, this new reader insert is super vocal about her distaste in just about everything. Hardly anything is up to her “standards.” She not only complains, but whines too! 🥳

Then her poor beau weirdly loves her despite her horrid personality. I don’t know how, I’ll leave that part of imagining up to you, but there’s my request 🥺

I just like morally grey or blatant antagonistic readers. A lot of times, it’s more fun if the reader is attractive this way to a yandere, than having stereotypical good traits, like being compassionate or respectful 😔

So please, a Bratty Female Reader x Well Mannered Wealthy Male Yandere?

-👘

I was wondering if I should just incorporate this into the Yandere CEO draft I have, but I had this sudden idea for a downright shameless relationship between a beloved, well-respected politician and a perverted, needy brat of a Darling. (I don't like politicians but alas, I needed a high-stakes public profession for this)

Yandere! Politician x Bratty! Reader

Mr. Politician is a true rarity in his field of work: well-mannered, articulate, and most importantly, genuine in his dedication. He works tirelessly for change and improvement, earning the adoration of the people. There's only one exception to his loyalty: no country ever comes before his Darling. And what a demanding Darling you are...

Content: female reader, older yandere, NSFW, some exhibitionism

Many would describe their interactions with Mr. Politician as follows: he's disciplined, confident and resourceful. A natural born leader, you can tell within seconds of meeting him that he is a man to rely on. He's spent many years in the game, and nothing can shake him out of his signature calmness. He keeps everything in pristine order, and nothing escapes his scrutiny.

There is, however, one quirk only few select people know about. A detail no one dares to discuss. It is common knowledge that Mr. Politician has a partner, yet the particularities of it are kept private. His beloved is a much younger girl, rotten to the core. It is unclear how this pairing came to be; the day Mr. Politician won his place in his prestigious office, he showed up with the mysterious feminine figure at his side.

What's certain and obvious to all witnesses is that his vocabulary quickly discards any meaning of refusal whenever he's dealing with you. It almost feels like the man worships you. He's never alluded to being religious, most likely because that role's been taken already. His eyes soften whenever directed at you, gleaming with raw adoration.

Splurging on expensive things is a given. Money has never been an issue for someone of his status. In fact, it's a handy and convenient tool he frequently uses to dampen the damage of your tantrums.

"Disgusting", you spit between your teeth, pushing the plate away and crossing your arms. The renowned chef of the Michelin star restaurant can only stare in horror before Mr. Politician intervenes with a chuckle. "Not feeling it today, huh?", he coos at you with loving strokes. "May I ask that you bring everything else from the menu?" he says in a sterner voice to the employee. "E-everything, Sir?" the waitstaff questions. "Well, naturally. I can't let my Darling starve."

"I'm bored. Let's leave now", you mention bluntly, standing in front of the heavily ornate table with a huff. "Are you sure, Darling? It's an important meeting for the country", Mr. Politician tries to plead. Around him, the other men sit baffled, observing the outrageous exchange. "Now!" you conclude louder. Before anyone can protest, your boyfriend stands up obediently and reaches out for your hand. "Then allow me to guide you, love."

A paradox. His earnest work is put to a halt if you require anything from him. Somehow, he has until now managed to juggle the two with little effort, and to his credit, there have been many instances requiring nerves of steel. Such as you paying him an unannounced visit to the office, and disliking the fact he was unavailable due to a meeting. So, you marched over to the window and promptly flashed your chest against the glass. Everyone else was focused on the opposing whiteboard; he was the only one who immediately noticed your arrival. "As you can see, the expected result is irresistible", he continued with a professional smile, tapping the graph with a marker.

Everyone knows Mr. Politician is fervently devoted to his principles. Take his last public speech, for example. Knuckles white from gripping the podium, he'd nearly choked during an eloquent -but passionate - conclusion. His face was red, his jaw tightened. He needed a moment to recollect himself, and the public waited with bated breaths, visibly emotional. Of course, they couldn't tell the outrageous truth: that you were shamelessly kneeling at his feet, pumping and teasing his erection until, at last, he let go all over your face.

"I wanted to see if you'd stumble on your words", you explain afterwards, wiping the sticky liquid off with a damp cloth. "That would've been unpleasant", he responds with a shiver. "It was live on national television."

He does not seem too bothered by the potential risk of being caught. Truly, his nonchalance knows no bounds when it comes to you. Or perhaps it is part of the charm. There's something quite depraved yet tempting about this perpetual contrast.

To return your daring favor, he gently places you onto his desk and spreads your legs, leaving trails of kisses along the inner surface of your thigh. A quick glance down confirms his suspicions: your bare bottom lays on top of confidential, rather important documents he dutifully signed hours ago. How thrilling of a feeling! He already smiles in anticipation, picturing himself as he hands over the folder to the oblivious party. He's not breaking any rules, now, is he? Nowhere in the book of etiquette does it state you mustn't fuck your beloved on top of official papers.

You gaze at the disheveled face underneath you. "One day I'll get you in trouble", you blurt out between whines. "Me? Oh, Darling. You know I always have everything under control." He lifts himself up and gives you a quick, desperate kiss. "Including you."

[spotaus]

Ancha I mean this in literally every possible positive way, this is what I'm doing with this drabble rn (I love it dearly and mere words or keyboard smash cannot describe the way I am going feral over it)

Gifted drabble - New Age Au - The Eye of the Storm

Hey @spotaus !! I am back as I told you I would be because you gave me MORE brainworms! Remember us talking about the magic system? or me just yapping and rambling about it hahah.

And the thing you mentioned about how Geno would react to seeing Dust's storm? Yeah. Brainworms.

Either way. It can all still be changed as Spotaus and I discuss the magic system and how everything works.

So warning? ish? Deep intimacy by showing the soul. reference to past toxic relationship ship is DustedAfterDeath

This is them FAR beyond their toxic arc youall. They relationship is healthy and full of consent at this point :3

*---------------*

Dust frowns as he stares at the door.

It is fine.

It isn't that big of a deal.

Just get it over with.

Dust sighs as he rubs the soft cotton of his hoody. He is still in his casual wear for now. He had a few days off and he hardly ever wore his uniform on those days nowadays. Especially when Geno and Reaper visit.

He is still a bit unsure about this whole relationship between them. Dust wants to say he fully trusts them but... well... after...

It is hard.

Which is why Dust had decided to just make this jump. Fuck it. Show them the disgusting mess that is his soul and get it over with. They will see it. Be disgusted. Break off whatever this relationship is and be done with it.

Easy.

Dust takes another deep breath as he feels his storm around his soul rumble unhappily. He needs to remain calm. That will keep his storm calm enough to make it safe for them to look at it.

Dust does not want a repeat of the many times he zapped others with lightning. Even a tiny warning zap is stronger than a full blown lightning strike at this point. Dust frowns as he taps the doorknob. Maybe this isn't a good idea after all...

He may have enough control to form actual attacks but actually keeping it calm?

What if he hurts them? They will hate him...

Then again... if they see the mess that his soul is...

Or worse... Dust was right after all and Geno and Reaper just wanted to know how his storm works and it was all still fake. He was being blind again and falling for the exact same trick again.

Then again... they don't know how deeply connected to his soul it is. No one knows aside from Nightmare and his fellow Knights. They don't even speak about that out loud unless they are in a very secure room and know they are alone.

Even with all of Geno's past prodding and hinting Dust never told him that. Even if Dust knew that Geno wanted to know how he had such powerful magic. It was his secret. and Dust had been willing to take it to the grave with him...

Dust offered to show them his soul. Take the next step before they could move their relationship towards soulplay and other acts like it. They didn't know that they would find out the source of his magic...

Which brings him back to this exact point. Wouldn't it be better to just get it over with? If they really are still lying about everything... Wouldn't it be better to know it? To be able to let it go and move on?

Not that Dust thinks he can move on. If he could have he would have after the first mess that this relationship was.

But Dust is aparently an idiot because he is trying this again even if the chance it will hurt is much larger than the chance that this will be alright.

Okay that is not fair. They had been so much more honest about this whole relationship and Geno didn't even mention or ask about his magic since the mess that it had been. He also acutally paid attention to the few things Dust said now...

Then why did he still feel like a speciman? Like a project?

He doesn't like that... Feeling like that. It was why he was fine with being a crimelord before. Why he liked being a knight. No one looked at him with pity when he did either of those. Neither of those positions ever made people look at him like... like... some magical experiment...

His family had meant well... The mage who did this to save his life meant well... but it didn't change the way they looked at him... The worry he would just drop over and be gone. Then later the fear that the magic stabilizing him would just stop working... Then... Then the worry... after he started to cause damage.

Dust glares at the door. Fuck it. Either he is going to prove himself right that they really are still just after information and then he can finally bury these feelings and be done with it all. Or...

Or...

Dust shakes his skull as he pushes the hope down. Don't hope. That gets you hurt.

He knocks on the door and enters as soon as Reaper welcomes him in.

Reaper smiles brightly at him "Dust you are here already. How was your day off?"

Dust shrugs and mutters fine. He hadn't done that much today. Mostly spend time with the horses as he tried to not feel anxious about what he was about to do now.

Reaper keeps smiling "I am happy to hear this." He shoots his mate a look.

Geno looks terrible... mostly because he is obviously anxious and nervous, maybe even uncomfortable.

Dust huffs as he crosses his arms, feeling defensive "You can just say you aren't interested. It was just an idea." It had been Dust's idea after all.

Geno shakes his skull as he messes with soemthing in his lap. Some spell probably. Geno looks nervous "It isn't that i... don't want to... That isn't the issue... It is just... you never seemed comfortable with anything close to this... and then this?" he glances at Reaper.

Reaper picks up easily "Are you sure this is what you are comfortable with?"

Dust shrugs. He isn't. But it is best to get it over with. But the doubt either will like to hear that answer.

Reaper looks fond at him, it makes Dust's soul do this weird little flip thing it is unfair Reaper looks at him like that, "Can you please explain Dust? We wish to understand."

That is something that had surprised Dust. How much they want him to talk or tell them how he feels. Dust finds it unfair. Before Geno didn't even bother to listen to the few things Dust did talk about and now he pays attention? It is just so different. Dust isn't sure how to feel about it. It is nice but it also means he has to explain things he can't quite explain.

Dust searches for the right words "I want... you two to see... it." it. That is the best way to explain the storm.

Geno looks bothered as he loosk up "Why call your soul it?"

Dust shakes his skull. It isn't normal. It isn't healthy... This is dumb. They will both just be disgusted and then this little nice thing will be ruined forever.

Dust shrugs "It is hard to explain..." he decides to echo some words back "Open communication and honesty or something... Soul is not the... healthiest." there.

Reaper looks super worried as Geno looks slightly more horrified. Ugh. Yeah. that is what Dust figured. He tugs on his hood to enable himself to hide more. He wishes he still had his mask.

Reaper shakes his skull "No no love. Nothing against you... But is it safe for you then? To even summon and show your soul?" he looks worried. Geno keeps his mouth shut but he shoots both Dust and Reaper looks.

It is now or never.

Dust sighs as he takes a seat on the bed and shoots them both a look "Well?" and he waits. His hands feels the soft silky sheets on the bed. It calms him. The bed feels like the bed in his own room. Even though he prefers his cotten and woolen stuff. He keeps rubbing the sheets with his fingers as his two boyfriends take their own seats.

Both wait and share a look.

Geno grins a bit "Want me to show my soul first?"

Dust shakes his soul. He does not need to see a healthy soul before he shows his mangled one. Dust will just lose the nerve. Geno looks bothered but doesn't offer again.

Dsut takes another deep breath. Tugs his scarf higher and his hood closer around his skull before slowly tugging at this very core.

And there it is.

Dust always thought it was like a cloud. Just in a weird soul shape all around his actual soul. The tiny malnourished one that never was able to grow fully. The magic and his actual soul work well and seem to connect with tiny bolts of lightning. Dust doesn't even feel it anymore. So used to the constant zapping emitted to his very being... The zaps outwards obviously at much more harmful. as Dust can channel those into actual attacks.

He is not looking at either of them as he waits. Just because he is willing to hear it doesnt mean he wants to see the disgust and horror on their faces...

"It is beautiful..." Geno whispers and Dust can't help but snap up slightly to check. Geno is just staring with open awe at the mess that is his core. Geno doesn't even seem to notice it as he slowly reaches a hand out.

Dust moves the cloud away "Don't touch it!" he stresses it.

Geno blinks and looks confused before seeing his hand "oh shit! sorry. I didn't... i wasn't thinking... I swear i didn't... i wouldnt!" he looks anxious as he holds both arms behind his back.

Dust frowns as hekeeps looking at Geno "I mean it... I can't exactly... control it... It will zap you full force... I already fried Cross once and that was a non-lethal hit... I don't think it will like it if you get that close..."

Geno frowns but Reaper is the one who speaks "It? Why do you refer to the magic as an it?" He seems curious as he looks at the soul and spell. Seemingly enchanted.

Dust frowns as he looks at it "I... well... I tend to just call it my storm... as that is pretty much it..."

Geno seems nervous "I euh... Just so you know you can just tell me to stuff it... But... euh... why is there a very complex spell around your soul?" He looks at Dust and waits.

Dust frowns at him. He knows their question would come. It was to be expected. He looks at the spell and settles on telling the truth "It is my life support system."

Reaper jumps upright "What?" he glances at Geno "Is that normal?"

Geno looks horrified "No? Magic is too... unstable and unpredictable? Which mage... who would... why?" he sputters and seems shocked.

Dust feels more uncertain as he ducks his skull more into his scarf. It isn't that he is surprised but it still hurts... why does it still hurt so much? He knew this was going to happen.

He holds his storm closer as the rumbling in it intensifies with his own shaking emotions. This was a mistake. He recalls both and the soul and storm disappear.

That seems to snap Reaper and Geno out of their slight moment or horror and panic as they shoot him glances.

Geno inhales sharply as he reaches out "Wait! Sorry. Fuck I am sorry. I didn't mean anything negative i swear! I just don't understand. It is fine! It looked beautiful!" He smiles.

Dsut shrugs and mutters "It is fine... it is disgusting... i know..." He wants to leave. He wants to go to his room and cry a bunch... he tugs his scarf higher as he pushes back into his hood. He wants his mask. He wants to hide.

Geno shakes his skull "No. It really is gorgeous i swear! Like a geode!"

That causes him to pause and shoot Geno an disbelieving look "A geode?" the absolute absurb nature of that has to be commented on. A geode?!

Geno nods "Of course it does it is so obvious."

Dsut just raises a brow at him "Really?"

Geno nods with a stubborn tilt "summon it again! I will point it out." he holds up his hands "No touching! Just pointing."

Dust frowns but slowly brings the mess out again.

Geno grins as he scoots a bit closer before beginning to talk "Okay. It is really cool and pretty. Your soul itself is obviously the very center. Everything around it is like the geode itself protecting your soul. The crystalized minerals just barely touching your soul and that makes the colouring probably! The little crystals are all slightly differently forming and shaping and growing. Reforming new connections and growths." Geno points and motions towards the cloud nearest his soul "Around that sits the metaphorical layer of stone protecting it!" when he speaks about that he motions towards the very outer layer of his cloud.

Dust rolls his eye lights "How do you explain the zaps of electricity going outwards?" Like his storm knows waht he wants it makes a tiny zap.

Instead of looking confused Geno just gasps and stares "Holy that is beautiful... It is like... the start of anew crystal growing! It is so beautiful."

Reaper looks curiously at Dust "how do you see it?"

Dust looks to the side "You know... a storm cloud? obviously?" because it is? At least Dust thought that.

Reaper hums as he looks at it curiously "I can see both... though I think it looks more like..." and he stops.

Geno looks curiously at Reaper "what do you see?"

Reaper looks slightly embarrassed "Lets keep it at a gem and a beautiful cloud... that is much more romantic." and he smiles.

Dust tilts his skull "Come on. Tell."

Reaper sighs but stares at the soul and cloud around it with a gentle smile "It is... Sea urchin."

Geno snorts as Dust blinks confused. He had heard of those animals before but never actually seen one.

Reaper chuckles "Yes yes love. laugh it up." he looks amused.

Dust shoots him a look before looking at his soul and storm "why?"

Reaper hums and speaks slowly "Well... it is like a protective shell isn't it? Your soul is safely tugged away within the center. Where it is safe and protected by the larger shell around it." he motions towards the cloud before motioning towards the everlasting zaps "And the spines to protect the treasure that lays hidden."

Dust frowns at his soul. He never... He never thought about his soul as either of those things... His soul was just the mangled thing... while his storm was the thing powering him and keeping him whole.

Not the center of a crystal cluster thing... Not something that had a shield and spikes to protect it...

Geno scoots over and looks curiously "Why... why is that magic there? if you are okay with me knowing... It is okay if you are not..."

Dust frowns "I told you... life support..."

Reaper sits nearby "How came it to be like that?"

Dust shrugs as he messes with the magic around his soul. It doesn't harm him in the least "I wasn't exactly... healthy... When i was younger. Never was. Had no energy. Hardly any magic. I am pretty sure the doctors told my folks i wasn't even meant to survive for longer than a year... but I managed... until i was suposed to start puberty."

Geno frowns as he nods "It is when our magic and souls start to truly develop."

Dust nods "I don't.. I don't know exactly what was wrong. They never told me in details. I just know that suddenly it burned and hurt... turns out the magic that was starting to develop was kinda... burning my soul out. My soul was too weak to keep up wiht the growth it needed to help support me." He frowns "I remember many doctors and mages." them all prodding him and mentioning how it was a miracle he had even been alive as he had been. More interested in learning how his magic burned himself than anything. He thinks some of them even asked his parents if he could be a study case. "One of them had an idea... a complex web of spells to help center the magic or something and to use it to power my soul... That was at least how it was explained to me after i started to feel better."

Geno shoots upright "Wait! They didn't ask you?!"

Dust snorts "What could you expect? I was hardly awake as it was... Not like I could have given my agreement..." he shrugs "It saved my life..."

Reaper gently takes his hand and kisses it slowly. Dust can see how slow Reaper moves. Probably making sure his own magic doesn't react badly. "It is your soul love... Even if it saved your life it should still have been your choice. As it is your right."

Geno messes with his own hands "That is why... You didn't want to talk about your magic... it isn't a spell that is even meant to attack... It is your soul's whole support system... I am so sorry...." he looks away. ashamed "I know i apologised... before for pushing and everything... I am so sorry I was..." he laughs as he looks down shocked "Pretty much trying to force you to talk about your soul and show it to me? what the hell was wrong with me?"

Dust shrugs "You didn't know..." he tugs his soul back into his actual body and breaths a sigh of relieve.

Reaper frowns at him "Are you okay?"

Dust shrugs "I am fine... Just tired..." He gives a tired grin "It isn't just my suport system for my soul... My soul can't exactly make the magic and energy i need. It barely makes enough for my soul itself."

Geno stares in shock "Everythign... the spell pwoers everything about you? How..." he freezes and stops "Wait. Sorry. It isn't... it is interesting but you don't need to... I mean yes i want to know but." he glares down frustrated.

Reaper still holds his hand as he rubs the back of Dust's hand "I think what Geno means to ask is... How is it possible? How is the spell still there? In my experience spells don't last long. I know my magic is about momental protection. Not a constant force."

Dust looks at them for a moment. They don't... they don't stare at him like those mages and doctors. there is worry. but they also keep holding him. keep being near. They aren't afraid of him...

Dust figures if they haven't pulled away in disgust yet... All he risks now is his trust being betrayed which wouldn't be the first time.

Dust rubs his neck "From what i udnerstand... The weather powers it. Natural rain, hail, wind... actually everything connected to storms power it..."

Geno blinks in awe "Your storm... That is why you call it your storm and a cloud... because it is... wow..." he jsut continues to stare with open awe "It is powered by an outside constant force... adn that powers you..." he frowns "Should you be throwing lightning around then?"

Dust looks around confused "euh?"

Geno gives him a bit of a glare "I mean it. Is it even healthy for you to be throwing lightning around? Waht if you run out." more anxious and stress on his face.

Dust nods "It is fine... I before couldn't even pick when it happened. it just happened. At most i give it a target." he grins a tiny bit "there is a reason that Killer calls the spell i use 'fuck you lightning'... I don't exactly got a lot of other spells..."

Reaper chuckles and nuzzles Geno "Calm down love. trust him. He knows himself and his magic best. If he thinks it is fine it is fine."

Geno shoots Reaper a look but takes adeep rbeath and nods "right... right... sorry... i just... don't like how unpredictable it is. How will we know it will keep you safe and healthy if we aren't sure it will manage itself? That it will stop you from shooting to much lightning?" he rubs his hands "I also used to overuse my own magic. As magic rarely gives you a warning you are running out until you are almost completely out."

Dust just listens to the other. He... he isn't even asking about how he can control or replicate it. How he can use it. All geno is worried about is it somehow getting unbalanced...

The fear slowly disappears...

Which is when his body decides to make it very obvious it does not appreciate Dust removing his storm from his body. He yawns and feels his socket becoe heavier. Yeah. he expected as much.

Geno looks panicked as Reaper rubs his back "Are you alright?"

Dust shrugs as he rubs the sleep from his sockets "I am fine. Body doesn't appreciate me removing my soul for a long time. Just need to give it time to settle and calm down."

Reaper hums as he pulls Dust slowly against him "You can rest. thank you for trusting us with this love." a soft kiss to his skull as Dust lounges against Reaper. Reaper's clothes are always warm and brimmed with magic. reinforced to make sure Reaper's deadly magic doesn't get through if he is stressed. It makes for a very soft living pillow.

Geno meanwhile is muttering about maybe making a tiny sensor. Just to give Dust a warning signal in case his magic levels get dangerously low. Just as an extra warning and protection for him. Reaper chastises Geno gently but Dust isn't paying much attention.

He is exhausted. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. But it was worth it. Maybe he didn't have to be worried after all.

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

the way that a&w was written about debbie gallagher like…😨

“i haven’t done a cartwheel since i was nine. i haven’t seen my mother in a long, long time.”

“do you really think i give a damn what i do after years of just hearing them talking?”

“we fuck on the hotel floor. it’s not about having someone to love me anymore, this is the experience of being an american whore.”

“watching teenage diary of a girl wondering what went wrong.”

“i’m a princess, i’m divisive. ask me why, why, why i’m like this.”

“i won’t testify, i already fucked up my story.”

“i don’t care, baby, i already lost my mind.”

i wanna post more shit like this even if people don’t like/reblog it because she is so lana, taylor, and marina (mostly marina) coded

[noyoucantpinmedown]

The Bowers Gang When Their Partner Has Their Period

Basically headcanons on the boys' attitude towards periods and how they handle their afab partner having one.

Belch Huggings

While Belch was raised by his loving mom, I picture Mrs. Huggings being quite old-fashioned and therefore very sheepish when it comes to talking biology with her son. Poor woman barely made it through giving him the sex talk, and as a result all Reggie knows is that whatever happens during the elusive ''time of the month'', it's not fun. Despite his lack of knowledge, Belch will be very doting of his partner if he's told they're having theirs, or even if he thinks they might be (he will never ask, or say the P word.) His SO can expect even more cuddles, random store bought or home-cooked treats (Mama Huggins is proud of how considerate her boy is), supplies kept on hand in the glove compartment of his car, patience, and compassion. Will assume sex is out of the question for the time being, but if his partner asks, he's more than happy to oblige. Generally will check on his SO constantly to the point of being annoying, and is willing to do anything they want, being nothing but understanding and obliging the whole time, even if his partner is cranky and takes out their frustration on him. Clueless as he is, he's ready to do anything he can think of to help, and is eager to be directed on what his SO needs. Will it kill him inside to be seen out buying pads for his partner? Yes. Will he do it anyway without complaint? Also yes. 10/10 in terms of support.

Victor Criss

I headcanon Victor as having two younger sisters and one of them is around the Losers' age, so aside from actually having been educated by his parents, he has actually witnessed what it can be like. He's the best prepared for this scenario and the most mature about it. As most teenage boys, Vic is a bit grossed out by the whole thing, but he's determined to handle it maturely and discuss it openly with his partner. Once he knows Aunt Flo is in town, he'll steal some pads from his sister and mom's stash to keep in his backpack, along with some Advil for cramps. He will show empathy for his SO's aches and mood swings, but unlike Belch, he will not take his SO directing their frustration at him- they may be bleeding, but that does not get them a free pass to treat him badly. In terms of intimacy, he's squicked out by blood in a sexual context, so his partner is on their own for that one. Other that that, he's happy to provide whatever his SO needs- he'll cuddle and read with his partner when they're bedridden with cramps, supply them with warm drinks, listen to them rant, and provide plenty of affection.

We're done with the sweet boyfriends part- onto the shitty ones.

Patrick Hockstetter

Patrick's knowledge on menstruation amounts to sexist stereotypes, and shameless as he is, he's not afraid to talk about it. The type to bring it up whenever his partner is grumpier than usual (''Oh, I see. Shark week, is it?''), and enjoys coming up with names for it- they're about as gross as you can expect. He's curious about how it really works, though, which might make it even worse, because now his taunts are even more based in reality. The stereotypical ones don't really stop either, though. The only one who will not tell their partner if their clothes are stained in public, because it's funnier if they're walking around with a red spot on the back of their pants. Patrick has an uncanny ability to just know when his partner's having their monthly visitor without them having to mention it (because he's a stalker with great observational skills). Doesn't give a shit about what their partner is going through, no emotional support to be found here. He's just as likely to take mood swings and crankiness in good fun (but there will be some form of punishment if his SO crosses the line of what he considers entertaining sass) as he is to get bored with it and avoid his partner until they're in a more agreeable mood. But hey, he is not completely useless- will give his partner all the physical affection they want, because he enjoys his partner being clingy and it's easy to transition to sex from there. Every now and then he'll swipe treats and supplies from the store even if he is not asked for them. The more attached Patrick feels to his SO, the more likely he is to do it and the more likely he is to not ask for anything in return... the latter still isn't a lot, he'll still expect his partner to fall over themselves thanking him for his sacrifice and generosity (that being the one chocolate bar he stole while going to steal cigarettes for himself). Generally speaking though, for Patrick it's business as usual. Ditto for intimacy. The negative is that he will expect his partner to put out in some form of another; the positive is that his partner will not be without if they habe those kind of cravings, and absolutely nothing is off the table because we know Patrick is nasty as hell and really enjoys blood. If his partner really wants nothing to do with him in that department, no big deal! He'll just find someone who does while he waits out the crimson tide :) He's such a catch, guys!

Henry Bowers

Oh boy. So, here's the thing: unlike Patrick, Henry actually wants to help. Unlike Vic and Belch, Henry is too stoic and hard-headed to even touch the topic. All he knows about menstruation is wrapped up in sexism, so he probably thinks that ''it's not that big of a deal'', or that ''women play it up for attention''. But he's squeamish when it comes to the reality of All Things Afab, so if he pulls the ''are you on you period'' card when his partner is in a bad mood and his partner answers Yes, I am, expect blushing and stammering. Wants to help, but does not want to talk about it, and a lot of the things that would help he considers demeaning (he will not be caught dead in the feminine care aisle). Not much to offer in the way of emotional support, except awkward pats and clumsy attempts at validation. He will show his partner more grace than usual, but if they're the type to complain a lot, get snappy or emotional, he'll get very tired very quickly. As far as sex is concerned, Henry expects his needs to still be met but refuses to touch his partner below the hips- he won't push his SO more than once or twice, though, and will wait it out without bringing it up again. Generally better at the quiet moments: sitting with his SO while they nap or watch a movie, wordlessly giving them food or a hot water bottle and trying to blissfully ignore the whole situation as much as he can.

[catscidr]

// what's the difference between scotch and whisky anyways //

i. note — /edit/ i said i would fix the formatting later and Now is later hi hellooo. sorry for not posting, i suddenly couldnt bring myself to write for more than five minutes at a time lmaoa ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) but i hope the dottore enjoyers like this at the very least. rn im working on chapter 3 of fbbts and a darker, separate dottore/reader one shot and a couple of jjk fics if anyone would even be interested in reading them lol. but in the meantime, here's drunken shenanigans ft everyone's favorite war criminal ii. includes — dottore x gn!reader, webttore (beta) and omega cameos. various mentioned harbingers iii. cw — fluff, crack sorta, alcohol stuff, dottore is ooc because he's Not Sober, everyone is clingy. fun stuff yk iv. wc — 3,5k -> ao3 link

It’s a popular stereotype that Snezhnayans are heavy drinkers, but the fact lies within the fatui. They’re shameless; whether it’s showing up to work inebriated or drinking on the job, they’ll hold onto the ‘snezhnayans have a high alcohol tolerance’ stereotype with clenched fists and a bottle at their lips. 

However, that fact only applies to the lackeys—agents that are stationed for hours on end without a break, agents that, at times, need liquid courage to face the horrors that come with the job. The Harbingers are an entirely different case. 

They balance each other, in a way. Where Tartaglia can down three shots of fire water and come out virtually unscathed, Damselette would rather not be caught within a hundred meters of a drop of alcohol. Where The Knave occasionally enjoys a glass of wine in her office, The Balladeer sneers at the choice of drink. 

None came together to go out for drinks, if not because of their job taking up a lot of time out of their days. No, none of the Harbingers were really close enough to let themselves be seen so vulnerable, if one dared drink themselves to the point of being unable to walk in a straight line. 

Thus, there had only been rumors circulating the halls of Zapolyarny palace. Hushed speculations spoken between coworkers, told with an air of excitement. No one has ever seen their Lords in a state other than wholly glorious, so it’s only human nature to wonder just what they would be like if their dignity were knocked down a peg—how they would be if they indulged in simple human vices. 

There are two kinds of Harbingers; ones that lack any rumors about their drinking habits, and ones that are so intriguing that if you were to strike up a conversation with a fatui agent, you would start theorizing about what kind of drunk they’re like before saying hello. Tartaglia and The Knave are part of the former, along with The Rooster and The Fair Lady. The latter consists of (unsurprisingly) The Balladeer, our sweet Damselette, and the two big shots at the top. 

Rumors of The Captain’s drinking habits are usually quite short-lived. People either have too much respect for him to speculate about something as childish as how he acts when he’s had too much to drink, or fear him too much to risk spreading rumors. 

But regarding The Doctor... 

It’s no secret that, even if he is eccentric and has a penchant for unconventional research methods, he has quite the loyal following. Agents will rally to defend him if they hear anyone slandering him, insisting that he’s reasonable and logical. ‘If you simply do your job, you have nothing to worry about’ is what they’d say. 

Although he’s amassed his fair share of fans within the fatui, they’re unlike The Captain’s loyal following; The Doctor’s subordinates are the first to whisper theories about their boss’ drinking habits. He’s only part human now, so maybe alcohol doesn’t affect him the way it does normal people like Tartaglia. Oh, but he seems the type to need to unwind occasionally, so maybe he has a secret stash of wine somewhere in his office? What if, in his free time, he creates various concoctions and cocktails to drink? 

Seeing as he understands science deeper than anyone else, mixology should be a walk in the park for a scientist as lucrative as him. 

Wrong. 

“Shouldn’t you be working?” 

The glare sent your way is nothing short of vicious. There stood in front of you one of his segments, the one with the infamous short fuse. “Why are you here?” 

You internalize the sigh you want to let out, deciding against making him mad when it seems he can’t even stand straight for longer than a few seconds. 

“Lord Pantalone dismissed me early.” You strategically omit why he let you go in the first place. “Where’s Prime?” 

As per anything retaining to Il Dottore, your relationship was unconventional at best. The term closest to what you were, if you wanted to describe said relationship, would be lovers—but... not quite? Still. Neither you nor Dottore cared enough to put a clear label on it, so you’ve resorted to letting people speculate— it can be quite entertaining to listen to people guess while being loud and wrong, anyways. 

You used to work under him as one of his many researchers. When you both started taking your relationship seriously, he threw in the idea of promoting you to being his personal assistant; that way he could (give you special treatment) have someone more competent than his last assistant take care of “menial tasks” like his tedious paperwork. 

You refused the generous offer, insisting that it would be unprofessional to work under him as his partner. After many late-night discussions (and stubborn headbutting of differing opinions) you both have come to an agreement in which you would work for Lord Pantalone as a financial planner. 

(You finally managed to convince him by bringing up how you could, hypothetically, pull some strings on your end in his favor—that you could persuade Pantalone to allot more funding for his research. If he had any shame left, it would have been embarrassing how quickly he shook your hand to accept your conditions.) 

Now, while you spent most of your time in an office in The Regrator’s office building near the Palace, you occasionally came by to drop off documents. Of course, you would use your short trips as an excuse to go see Dottore (even if you could do so at any time anyways, given how much authority he had.) 

However, sometimes you just want to work. 

You’ll leave the comfort of your cubicle to go see him and the extensions of himself, sure, but you still had a job to do. Papers piled up, clients grew impatient, and even your boss wasn’t immune to their nasty attitude whenever he held a meeting with a particularly irritating client. Thus, sometimes you wished you could truly focus, lose track of time and work until your wrist forced you to take a break. 

This wouldn't happen today, clearly. Seeing as one of Dottore’s lackeys rushed to your office to bring you to the Haeresys, you most likely won’t be seeing your desk until further notice. 

Now you were stuck with a cryptic Beta, trying your best to use what little knowledge about the clones’ machinery you managed to wring out of your stubborn lover. 

“Where’s Prime?” You run a hand over your wrinkled coat sleeve, keeping your voice calm and steady. Patient, else you’d be subjected to the segment’s indignation. 

“Dunno.” 

You sigh. Is he a scientist or a child? “You do know. Where is he?” 

“I told you I don’t know!” He throws his hands up, accidentally striking his mask in the way—effectively leaving it to rest at an angle on his face. Most of his mouth showed now, instead of the half you’re used to seeing. And the holes for the eyes don’t quite go where they should... 

Blinking, you take in the sight in front of you while he calms down. His crimson eyes were glassy, and his lips formed a permanent pout, vastly out of character for a segment that supposedly represented The Doctor at the most volatile stage of his life. Azure locks curled around his cheeks, though they were usually tucked out of the way. His clothes were all wrinkled, in a way that left you wondering if you shouldn’t tend to him instead. Dealing with his attitude is annoying, but it’ll be amusing to think about later, I guess. 

“Do you really not know...?” 

“No.” 

“Then, do you know why I was called to the lab?” 

“No. Yes... probably not. Uh,” he crosses his arms over his chest and loses his balance for just a second, “I think I do.” 

You raise an inquisitive brow, silently encouraging him to continue. 

“Give me a second.” Beta shuts his eyes, shoulders slumping. His mask was still crooked—you had half a mind to fix it, but held back the twitch in your fingers. After a few seconds he pipes up, uncrossing his arms to reach out to you. 

“Come.” 

The segment grabs your wrist and drags you into the hallways of the Palace, ignoring your yelp of surprise and the stares of various agents lingering in the halls. You pass by ornate statues and paintings, the sight more unfamiliar than not. 

“Beta, where are we-” 

“Hush, I can’t walk when you’re talking my ear off.” 

...Right. Something is definitely wrong. 

After about five minutes of running around like headless chickens you tug your arm back, making Beta turn around indignantly. You lift your hands up in front of you before he can speak. 

“Did you mean to bring me to Lady Signora’s office?” you ask, lips curled up into a small smile seeing his mask still laid crooked on his face. With a gentle hand you fix it, cold fingers grazing his burning cheek. 

“...” 

Beta’s brows furrow as he avoids your gaze, huffing dramatically. Poor guy, you mused. 

“Alright, let’s go to the lab, then. He must be there, right? Where was Prime last time you saw him?” 

“...his office, probably,” he murmurs. 

With a nod and a smile akin to someone doing some gentle parenting, you place a hand on his back and help guide him to Haeresys. The stairs were hard to walk down, but with just a bit of patience and a bit of Beta clutching your arm while shouting that you were trying to assassinate him, you make it down in one piece. 

You remove your gloves and place your palm into the scan, then input the lengthy password to open the laboratory’s large doors. They slide open, revealing the absence of normal researchers and noise. You spot Omega standing over the remains of a ruin machine with a clipboard in his hands and look back towards Beta. 

“Go sit, I’ll go ask Omega about Prime’s whereabouts.” 

The clone nods, trudging his legs along to lay down on the leather couch tucked away in the lab. 

As you put away your large coat and hang it up in the small rack near the doors and make your way towards Omega, you notice the slow rhythm of his handwriting—when he’s usually seemingly speedrunning writing down notes, he’s now leisurely writing away, unaware of your presence. 

“Omega.” 

The latter turns to you, masking his surprise with a small smile instead. “My dear,” he practically purrs, putting away the clipboard in a swift movement, placing the pen in his coat pocket. 

“I was alerted that something was... off, with Prime. Do you know where he is?” 

And where you thought Omega would pick up on Beta’s lack of decorum, you were sorely mistaken. The clone walks up to you with that same smile brightening his features, placing both hands on your shoulders oh so gently. 

“He’s in his office. But enough about him, I haven’t seen you in a while, beloved. Why must you keep me away from you?” he muses, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. You tilt your head to avoid being stabbed by his mask’s beak, raising your hands to press against his chest to make some distance. The action proved to be futile, of course. 

We saw each other yesterday, you murmur. “I’m sorry, I’ll get back to you in a moment, alright?” You offer him a warm smile in hopes that he’ll listen, seeing as he seemed to be quite... mushy. 

It works, and he lets you go with a curt nod, retreating to go... somewhere. You didn’t linger around long enough to figure it out, since you knew where to go now. 

Walking across the lab, you note how things seemed to be more out of place than usual. It couldn’t have been a researcher, they always had to clean up after themselves, courtesy of their boss. So, the mess had to be caused by them... 

You finally stand in front of his door, raising a fist to knock. A yelp leaves you as you’re whisked away, the door slamming shut just as quickly as it swung open. 

“Dottor-” 

“Can you fucking believe how inept these agents are? They dare speak to me with such disrespect after delivering the lousiest job I’ve ever seen.” Dottore rambles, pulling you deeper into his office. You observe the state of his workspace, namely the papers scattered onto the ground and the... bottlecap on the floor, right next to his trashcan filled with crumpled up paper...? 

“Showing up in the lab with their damn hands empty save for the half empty bottle of scotch they tried to hide. Idiots were too shitfaced to notice how I noticed.” 

“Okay, Dottore, what are you-” 

He gestures wildly as he speaks, his hands the only way for you to read him as his mask hid most of his features. The blue lines taunt you; though you’re tempted to take it off, you feel like he might just lunge at you if you did. 

“And then they had the gall to insist that the bottle was theirs when I confiscated it.” Dottore pushes you down to sit on the couch, a small oof leaving you in consequence. “Anything that enters this fucking lab belongs to me, I’m the boss, I decide what flies and what does not.” 

Absolutely unaware of your muffled giggles as you piece things together, he keeps ranting, turning his back to you as he stomps away towards his desk. “Not to mention these damn lackeys have had multiple warnings up until now,” he spits out. “Lord Harbinger, we’re sorry! We’ll clean up the lab to make up for this offense! Lord Harbinger, it won’t happen again! Who do they take me for, a moron?!” 

The higher pitch he uses to imitate (and make fun of) the agents almost makes you lose it. But you keep your composure, sitting demurely, listening. 

Dottore comes back with a bottle in hand, orange liquid swirling around the thick glass as he stumbles closer to where you sat. He joins you without warning, creating a dip in the sofa next to you—almost forcing you to lean onto him for support. His free arm drapes over the back as he sighs loudly, making you stifle a laugh behind your hand. 

A pregnant pause stretches between the two of you as his anger simmers down to embers. You lean forward, attempting to take a look at the label on the bottle in his hand. 

“What’re you holding there, love?” you ask sweetly. Glancing up you’re able to steal a peek at his eyes from underneath his dark mask—Archons was he absolutely gone. 

It takes him a second to respond, almost as if he forgot you were even there in the first place. 

“Whisky.” 

“I thought it was scotch.” 

“Same thing.” 

“No it isn’t.” 

“Yes it is.” 

“No it’s n-” 

“It is.” 

Maybe it wasn't the brightest thing to do, messing with him while he’s this inebriated. But it sure was entertaining. 

“Alright. Well, how much did you drink?” 

“A sip or two.” 

As if on cue, he brings the bottle up to his lips and takes a swig. Your grin widens, thoroughly entertained by the show; who else had the privilege of seeing The Doctor so drunk he could barely formulate something that made sense? 

You bring his attention back on you as you place a hand on his knee, leaning close. Dottore immediately snaps into place, gaze flickering down to your lips from the proximity. 

With a swift hand you grab the scotch from his hands, inspecting the amount still left in the bottle. If he said it was half empty when he confiscated it, then... 

“Dearest, did you drink a quarter of this bottle?” You're not even supposed to drink it straight from the bottle, either is what you wished to add, but seeing how defensive he was already, you figured it would just make things more complicated than they needed to be.

As if stung by the Tsaritsa’s delusion, he immediately stiffens and defends himself. “I did not, I told you I only had a sip.” 

The way his bottom lip jutted out was almost cute, if you dared to describe him in such a way. Compliments could wait though; you had answers to seek. 

“Mhm, a sip. Well,” you put the bottle down on a coaster on the coffee table and turn to face him properly, “what happened to the segments? They’re all a little... woozy.” Your fingers trail his arm, tracing circles in their wake. 

Dottore swallows, Adam's apple bobbing as he opens his mouth to speak. “We’re connected, albeit loosely. They could be affected by the few sips of scotch I drank, though I would have some work cut out for me if that were the case. I can’t let them be so weak after all.” 

The way he spoke sounded, for lack of better words, pouty. 

Was he... sulking? 

“And since we’re connected, I know you spoke to Beta ‘n Omega earlier.” 

He most definitely is. He's even slurring his words, now...

“Yeah? I was asking them where you were so I could check up on you, baby.” You chuckle softly, taking the liberty of putting his mask away. Bright, glassy red eyes stare down into you, and you hold back the urge to smother his face in kisses. 

“You didn’t have to talk to them, you could have just asked me.” 

“I was looking for you, so I couldn’t have.” 

“Why not?” 

You scoff, smiling as you adjust yourself on the couch. Dottore notices and takes the liberty of pushing you down, laying his head down so his ear is on your chest, cheek pressed up into you. “I’m sorry, I’ll ask you next time,” you respond. 

That satisfies him, enough to render him silent for a handful of seconds before he speaks up again. 

“...I need to get back to work,” he huffs. 

You bring a hand up and run it through his disheveled locks, careful not to tug at the small knots in the hair at the back of his neck. Twirling the hair of his mullet you hum, noting how his weight seemed to grow heavier as the seconds passed. No way is he going to get any work done if he falls asleep here. 

“Take a break, you deserve it. In the meantime, you can think of a suitable way to punish those stupid agents from earlier, right?” 

A quiet hum is all you get in response. You look down expecting to see his unnerving red eyes to be staring up at you, but you’re met with the sight of his features completely lax instead. Azure hair pools around his face, settling on your chest where his face rose in time with your breaths. 

You would have dimmed the lights and turned off his computer if you knew he was going to keep you hostage on the couch. Though you can’t really complain at the turn of events; it’s rare for Dottore to be the one to initiate skinship in the relationship. 

It was quiet, but you managed to hear the low dear? that left his lips. You hum, not wanting to speak as to not break the quiet atmosphere lulling you to a sense of peace. 

After a minute of silence, you decide to repeat yourself—this time a little louder than before. “What is it?” 

Another minute passes, just as quiet as the last. The sound of his slow, deep breaths fills the room, accompanied by the low scratches of your nails on his scalp. His hair parts where your fingers tread through it, and you quietly note that you should trim his hair soon. 

Il Dottore’s poor alcohol tolerance will always be a mystery to the public, because there’s no way you would ever let anyone in on the way he cuddles up to you when he’s had too much to drink. 

[kurocamille]

❝maybe frat boys aren’t so bad (aka cars are meant for driving!)❞

Frat!Bakugou Katsuki x reader (except he’s not stereotypical and mean) mdni

part 2

4.1k+ words

you attend your first frat party and run into a familiar flirty face. he offers to drive you home from the party, the empty parking lot outside your dorm building definitely seems like the perfect place to get down and dirty…

warnings

part 1 of 2 (2 will have full smut..) 1 oc who’ll come into play later…., car sex, fingering, handjobs, heavy makeout, hickeys/neck kisses, dry humping/grinding kinda, female/afab reader, no pronouns used, inexperienced reader, “baby” as a pet name

It was your first time going to a college party, miraculously enough. This year, you had met a group of girls who had quickly invited you into their friend group. Somehow, despite you refusing over ten times, they had managed to drag you to a frat party.

After getting yourself a cup of mysterious red punch, you stand in the crowd of people. Bodies brush against you—intentionally or unintentionally, you don’t know. You’ve seen a few of your friends since arriving, but it seems like most of them are off doing God knows what with some drunken frat boy.

You can feel the beat of the music in your chest, as if it’s pumping your heart for you. The strobe lights flash around you. Sipping away at your drink, you go wandering in search of someone you know.

When you exit the common room, you float down a hallway with fewer people. Despite fewer people being there, the hallway is stuffy, and you can barely walk through without knocking shoulders with someone.

You aren’t watching where you’re going, and suddenly you trip on the bunched up carpet beneath your feet. The half-full soda cup goes flying, and so do you. It spills on the front of your shirt and down the back of a nearby couple who, until now, had been in the middle of making out,

“Ugh!” the girl shrieks, and you look up to see her glaring at you. She comes out from under the guy caging her, and you realize it’s the girl Mika from one of your classes. As always, her hair is perfectly coiffed, and she’s wearing a dress that barely covers her ass.

The girl shakes her hands of the sticky liquid that spilled on her, but seeing as she had previously been caged under that other guy, she had barely gotten wet. Meanwhile, the guy stands in a sopping wet shirt. You also recognize him; Bakugou Katsuki. He’s in another one of your classes, one of which you had been paired up for a partner project. Unlike Mika, he doesn’t look like he’s trying too hard. A white short-sleeved band t-shirt complements his black jeans, something you wouldn’t have expected a frat boy like him to wear.

Despite being in the same fraternity/sorority group, Mika and Bakugou could not be more different, and you can’t help but wonder how they ended up together. While Mika is extremely stereotypical and, if you might say, annoying, rude, and a bitch, Bakugou is really nice. That one project had taught you that not every frat boy is a shameless womanizer and prick. Although he’s a definite flirt, he’s always been respectful and acknowledged you as an equal—opposite of what Mika had done to your friends, and now you.

“I’m so sorry,” you say hastily.

“Don’t min-” Bakugou starts, but he’s cut off by Mika.

“You better be sorry!” she all but screeches at you. “This is a brand new set of nails. They’re completely ruined. You better repay me for this. It cost 10,000 yen, you know that? Can you even fucking afford that”

“Look, I’m sorry I did that, but I don’t know if I can repay tha-” you start. The look she gives you is incredulous as she snarls before interrupting you.

“I actually can’t believe you. You must be a dumb slut dying for Bakugou’s attention. Imagine sabotaging me just because he chose to be with me! And you’re so poor you can’t even afford to fix your mess… Ridiculous,” she huffs, pressing a pointy finger into your chest and probably expecting you to bow down and beg for forgiveness.

You try to apologize, but Bakugou steps in before you can say anything.

“Mika, who cares,” he sighs. He looks at you with a silent ‘I can’t deal with this face.’

The silence that follows feels like an eternity, but it really only elapses the half second before her hand makes contact with Bakugou’s face.

The sound from the slap resounds in the small hallway. You stare wide-eyed at the growing red spot with matching nail marks on Bakugou’s face.

“You should fucking care. We’ve been together for, like, a month already, and you still won’t stand up for me?! I’m done, don’t call me,” she seethes before pointing at you. “And you, you better hope we never see each other again.”

After that, Mika storms off in a fit of rage and disappears into the crowd.

“Dating on and off for a month, and she pulls that. Psychotic bitch,” he mutters before turning to you. “Hey, Sorry, I didn’t know you were coming, you should’ve told me.”

“I’m so sorry, for all of that. I’ll just get going and pretend I never saw that.” You turn on your heel to dash out, but a hand grips your shoulder and turns you around.

“No need to apologize, she gets crazy when she’s drunk, and I was planning on breaking up with her,” he shrugs. “Anyway, I’m just gonna head upstairs and shower this stuff off. You can come up too, if you want, Y/N.”

You raise a brow at his suggestion. “You want me to come shower with you?”

A look of confusion and surprise crosses his sharp features before a smirk breaks out. “There are multiple bathrooms up there, but you know, if they’re all taken, you can always join me.” He sends you the stupidest wink that still sends your stomach into frenzy.

“You bounce back too quickly,” you groan. “Whatever, I’m coming up, but not with you.”

Bakugou reverts to his uncaring self and has you follow him. You follow Bakugou, slowly making your way up the rickety house stairs. When you make it around the corner, Bakugou points you in the direction of an ensuite washroom, and disappears into the room across from you. “Just take a folded towel, and I’ll deal with it. If you need anything, just come and get me.”

In the quiet of the bedroom, you lock the door and undress. You make your way into the connected bathroom and strip down in the low light. The shower has terrible pressure and doesn’t heat up, but it does the job of cleansing the sticky punch off your skin.

You finish your shower within five minutes and step out to grab a towel. It’s surprisingly clean, but the pile of your clothes on the counter are still dripping with liquid. That means you’ll either have to walk around in a towel for the rest of the night or muster up the courage to ask Bakugou for some clothes.

You opt for the second option, seeing as you won’t have to walk through a drunken frat house in a towel that barely covers your “good bits.” So, you head back to the door where Bakugou was, rolling your clothes into a ball and tucking them under your arm. When you get there, the door is still closed, as you expected, but there is no sound of running water coming from the room.

“Bakugou, sorry, I need some extra clothes,” you say after knocking on the door.

As if it isn’t embarrassing enough, Bakugou takes his sweet time getting to the door. When it finally opens, he stares at you, his eyes unashamedly trailing up and down your body. He, similarly to you, looks to have just gotten out of the shower. Water droplets fall from his hair and fall down his hardened chest, which he doesn’t bother to clothe. The only thing keeping his from being stark naked in front of you is the towel sitting low on his hips, low enough that you can see his v-line drifting below.

“Clothes?” he asks after an awkward pause, and you flush.

“Yeah, anything will do, I just need it to get home in them,” you reply.

“Alright, come in.” He beckons you with his hand to follow him.

The first thing you notice when you enter is that his room is far different from the other one. While the first bedroom, whose you can only assume is his frat brother’s, is standard for a male college student—clothes strewn everywhere, an only half-made bed, and suspicious posters. Bakugou’s room is the opposite, the bed made, shelves tidy, and everything in order.

Bakugou coughs and breaks you out of the spell you’re under. He’s holding out a crumpled plastic bag, with some grocery store logo on it. “Here, for your wet clothes.”

You quickly snatch the bag and stuff your clothes into it. As you struggle to fit them inside, the towel hugging your body slips from its hold and drops below your nipples. From your peripheral vision, Bakugou freezes ever so slightly, and you hear an awfully loud swallow.

As soon as you notice him, however, he averts his eyes and pretends he had been looking for clothes the whole time. The outfit he chooses for you isn’t half bad, a hoodie and drawstring sweatpants, but they look so big they could drown you.

You take the two garments from him, accidentally brushing fingers in the process. He pulls away from you and heads back towards his ensuite bathroom. “Don’t worry, I’ll be in here. I won’t peek. You can get changed in the bedroom.”

With that, he closes the door and cements a divide between the two of you. Quickly, you change into the clothes he gave you, having to roll up the cuffs on them multiple times. You look like a blob of fabric, but it’ll have to do. Hopefully Bakugou won’t notice that you’re not wearing your bra and panties.

Knocking on the bathroom door, you meet face to face with Bakugou one last time. He’s fully clothed now and gives you a smile.

“Looks like it fits,” he says sarcastically.

“For sure,” you joke, flattening out the garments awkwardly. “I’m planning on heading out now, by the way. I think I’ll just catch an Uber, I’m pretty sober now, and my friends will probably be here for a while longer.”

“Don’t take an Uber,” he replies suddenly.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he corrects himself. “I mean, it’s not safe to take one right now. Let me drive you, I didn't drink tonight.”

“No way!” you retort. “I couldn’t bother you with that. I’ll be fine, anyway.”

However, Bakugou, being his stubborn self, does not relent until you agree to let him drive you all the way back to your dorms, only a stupid 30 minutes away.

Normally, you wouldn’t risk going with someone in his frat, but you have enough trust in Bakugou to keep civil. So, after a moment of contemplation, you accept his offer and follow him to the adjacent parking lot. Multiple people stare as you walk past them, but you pay them no mind, seeing as you’re practically unrecognizable in your new outfit.

“Yo, Bakubro, good for you!” a redhead yells from the doorway as you leave, whooping in a supportive, you suppose, manner.

“Ah, shut up, don’t spread any rumours, Shittyhair.” Bakugou groans, but you don’t miss the way his ears turn pink.

You’ll have to forget about that, though, because the lights of a black Jeep Wrangler flash on, and Bakugou escorts you to the passenger seat.

“I didn’t know you were this much of a gentleman, Bakugou,” you giggle in an embarrassingly girly way.

“I’m always a gentleman.” He winks and walks around to his side of the vehicle, leaving you feeling hot in the face.

He swings into the passenger seat, and puts the car in motion. You can’t help but notice the way his arms grip the steering wheel, the veins from his strong hands trailing up his forearms in a way that makes you unconsciously bite your lip.

“Put the address into the GPS,” Bakugou interrupts, and you notice his eyes force themselves away from your lips.

You deny whatever you just saw and punch your address into the screen. The machine takes only a second to bring up the route home, which, at this late hour, will actually only take 15 minutes.

After pulling out of the lot, Bakugou heads down the street following the indicated yellow line. He drives smoothly and professionally, as you expected he would. He maneuvers the car with expertise, and you can’t help but think he’s showing off when he steers with an open palm and an arm on the back of your seat.

For most of the ride, you guys are silent. Other than the faint whirring of the air conditioner, the only sounds to be heard are made by you and Bakugou. His by his slow, peaceful breathing, and yours by the beating of your heart—something which betrays you by getting louder and faster with every minute.

Luckily for you, the drive is soon over and Bakugou’s car is parked right outside of your dorm building. For the most part, the lot is empty, and the lights from the windows are off. It makes sense, most people in your extremely small building are out partying at 9 o’clock on a Friday, and the homebodies you’d normally associate with are already in bed.

Your specific block seems to be completely dark, seeing as you left your friends behind at that party… Whoops. It’s no matter, however, you’ll just be the first one in your complex to get back.

You unclick the belt from your waist, moving up on the seat to grab your things off the floor.

“This is you, right?” Bakugou questions.

“Yep! Thank you so much for driving me. I’ll text you later so you can have your clothes back.” You smile at him and go to open the door, but he lightly pulls you back.

“Wait. Y/N, you can keep them, actually. ” He chuckles, but it has an awkward tone to it. “You look better in them than I do”

Wait, what?

You always thought Bakugou was just flirty by nature, which to some extent he is, but you could see it now. Whatever you two had going on was certainly out of the ordinary. From what you could tell, Bakugou wasn’t half as teasing towards Mika as he was to you.

Ever since that one project, he had always made it a priority to sit next to you in class. You had assumed he was there for your notes, not that you minded, but could it actually have been for another reason altogether?

“Well, I would bet you look pretty good in these too, not that you don’t always look good,” you giggle, testing out the waters.

Bakugou’s eyes widen in surprise and soften under the pale light of his car. You stare at him fondly, accidentally letting your eyes flicker to his lips.

“Y/N, I-“ he starts but can’t seem to find the right words.

“I know you just broke up—literally tonight, but, Bakugou, gosh, I really want to kiss you right now,” you speak for him.

Maybe that punch was more potent than you thought. Good thing Bakugou drove you all the way here…

Instead of replying, Bakugou places a tender hand on your cheek and pulls you in. Soft lips meet your own, and you smile. You move to his lap where the seat has suddenly been rolled back.

Ah, it’s his frat boy car seat trick.

Your kisses continue slowly, and you can tell Bakugou wants to deepen the kiss when his tongue brushes against your lips. Upon first contact, you freeze in place. Before this you’d only ever been with one guy, one that you hadn’t even gone far with. In the moment now, you can only hope and pray that he won’t notice your inexperience.

However, you completely forget whatever worry you had when Bakugou starts to go into your mouth. His large hands pull you flush against his body, grabbing at the flesh right above your ass.

When you finally pull back, Bakugou’s eyes are blown wide, and he looks lost to lust. The lips that had previously been on yours now have a cute pout, having puffed up from your kisses.

Bakugou’s lips move down and pepper chaste kisses along your jawline. Even with his light and seemingly innocent pecks, you’re still softly moaning under his hold.

Bakugou switches focus to your neck, licking and sucking a hickey into your skin. After nipping at you for a while, Bakugou lifts off of you, and you can tell with his smirk that he left a massive bruise blooming on your skin.

“Bakugou, let me touch you,” you whisper as he moves to kiss the other side of your neck.

“Call me Katsuki… Please. “ He groans when you slightly grind against his groin.

You shift down on your hips and look down to see a thick boner growing in his pants. Curiously, you press it softly with your fingers and give it a light squeeze.

Katsuki looks down at you, his face quickly turning red. Silently, you reach into his pants, looking at his gorgeous ruby eyes for any sign of contestment. Katsuki stays quiet but gives you a small nod in approval.

Finally, you get to the moment you’ve been waiting for. You press your fingers under the waistband of his boxers, sliding your hand across the top of his cock. Then, with one movement, you free him from his confines, and his dick stands proudly in front of you.

Any expectations or preconceived notions about what Katsuki was packing were shattered. Painfully hard and dripping tiny amounts of precum, his cock is a beauty. The dark pink tip invites you in, begging you to give it one moment of reprieve.

When you nervously stroke the shaft, Katsuki’s reaction is instantaneous, his hips lurching up against yours.

“Fuck, keep going,” he hisses, his breath already laboured.

With more confidence you wrap your fingers around him and give his cock a few quick pumps. Your sudden change in tempo makes Bakugou’s cock twitch in your hold and release a bead of white precum. You remove your hand, and Katsuki’s eyes meet yours with a pleading look.

Carefully, you push your thumb against the slit of his dick and lubricate him with his own pre-cum. As you swirl the substance around the head, Katsuki buries his face in your shoulder.

“Oh my God, I’m about to cum,” he gasps. “Fuck, it’s like I’m a virgin again.”

Bakugou’s chest heaves as you work him to his high. With every light touch or squeeze of his dick you make, it twitches and throbs in reply. You decide to help him finish, doing the same fast strokes that make him groan lewdly in your ear.

Then, all of a sudden, Bakugou reaches out and stops your hand in the middle of its movements. You eye him, confused. “You into edging or something?”

“Not quite, I wanna get you off, too.” He surprisingly lets out a hearty laugh.

“Sit up, baby,.” You follow his instructions and he picks you up with ease.

Katsuki flips you over so you’re no longer sitting on top of him, rather lying caged underneath him. His body is so close to yours that you can’t look down to see what’s happening when you feel his hands moving against your clothed pussy.

“May I?” he asks, tugging at the edge of your panties.

“Still such a gentleman,” you giggle embarrassingly.

“Breaking the frat boy stereotypes as we go, I suppose.” He laughs with you, before turning his attention back to your body.

His adept fingers pull your soaked panties to the side, revealing your equally glistening cunt. Katsuki nimbly dips his fingers in your wetness with a soft hum.

“So wet, baby,” he grins, and you blush in embarrassment.

Bakugou skillfully captures your attention by pressing the pad of his thumb against your aching sex, as if to test the waters. When he hears your soft moan in response, he takes it as an invitation to keep going.

Slowly, Katsuki’s thumb plays with your throbbing clit, brushing it in teasing circles. A whine escapes your mouth, and he chuckles upon hearing it, knowing how needy you feel. “You want my fingers inside of you?”

You gasp out a ‘yes,’ and his fingers are immediately prodding at your entrance. Then, you feel the stretch your hole makes to accommodate his intruding finger. Although you’re not used to such a feeling, you easily adapt to the length of his digit, which pleasantly curls into your depths.

Bakugou starts fingering in and out of you, and the pleasure increases. Previously soft moans and whines turn into cries against his shoulder. Despite your embarrassment of being oversensitive, the flush on Bakugou’s face proves he’s just as affected, without you even touching him.

As Katsuki continues to slip inside your wetness, you feel the pressure building in your stomach, much differently than it ever has before. One more finger squeezes into your tight cunt and presses against your pleasure spot. You cry out, and his hands continue to brush against that sensitive place.

“Fuck, that feels good, please don’t stop,” you babble mindlessly, barely even registering Bakugou’s reply of, “Course not. Wouldn’t dream of it.’

To your blissed out surprise, the pleasure gets stronger. The sensation on your clit returns, and your body uncontrollably arches into Bakugou’s above you. With every calculated movement against your bundle of nerves, you’re worked closer to orgasm.

Then, all of a sudden, the angle of the thrusting fingers changes. Bakugou changes his position to be closer to you, somehow managing to reach further than before. With every new touch to your g-spot and clit, you feel yourself being pushed to your high.

In turn, you grasp a hold of Katsuki’s twitching cock. His hiss in reply shows you just how sensitive he is from before. Your hand moves up and down, matching the quick strokes of his fingers. Just as quickly as he had gotten you to the peak of your orgasm, his body convulses, signaling his is soon to come, as well.

Your moans crescendo and bounce off the walls of the car, and Bakugou can't help but be spurred on by them. The speed of his hand gets faster, still very much calculated in its movements, your hole fluttering around his digits.

After swiping your thumb across his leaking tip, Bakugou’s body seems even more sensitive, if it’s even possible. His cock violently throbs in your hand, begging to spill its seed. You oblige its wishes and continue your pumps up and down his hard length.

You can feel yourself almost cumming, on the brink of losing your mind. Similarly, Katsuki’s body, his higher-pitched moans, twitching shaft, and milky tip, tell you he’s extremely close.

Then, taking you by surprise, Bakugou cuts off your moans with a hot kiss. Immediately after you make contact, his tongue sweeps against yours in a passionate dance.

“I’m gonna cum!” Your voice gets muffled by the tongue pressing against your own.

The addition his mouth was to your pleasure plunges you right into orgasm. Your body convulses, pussy tightening uncontrollably, and you wail into his mouth. Anything you had ever expected of sex is automatically blown to bits when this atomic force hits you.

You feel your eyesight black out, as if you’ve been hit by a truck. You subconsciously grip harder around Katsuki’s dick, causing his orgasm to come shooting out of him. Long strings of his pearly cum cover the palm of your hand, his cock still moving to let out the last bits of his seed.

The bliss that follows is calming. Bakugou finally pulls out of you, his face coming off of yours to reveal his dazed eyes and flushed cheeks.

You doubt you look appealing, but Bakugou looks at you sweetly and more kindly than you can assume he does with anyone else.

“You did so well, baby,” he whispers to you after leaning down to your level.

You give him a quick peck on the cheek and slowly untangle your limbs from his. Bakugou helps you up and grabs your (borrowed) clothes that had previously been strewn across the other seats.

After dressing yourself and saying a quick goodbye to Bakugou, you slip out of his car and head back into your dorms.

You smile to yourself as you lay in bed alone. On your bedside table you notice you’ve received a new notification, a message from an unknown number. What you see makes you smile and blush.

‘That was such a great night, let’s do it again sometime. - Bakugou’

a/n: hi guys. i’m back for the holidays and i hope to put out part two soon (let’s be honest, i never write things on time). i tried writing something more plot heavy… hope you enjoyed🫶 also, sorry for the edging joke. i think i’m funny.

[clitorphosis]

HOLY, HOLY, HOLY S(EX)

Priest! Leon S. Kennedy x Widow! reader | 18+ MDNI. smut, female reader, light religious themes, Leon is a priest, reader is a widow, sexual fantasy, wax play, blasphemy kink, vaginal sex, teasing, nipple play, improper use of rosary and altar, mention of grief and death, guilt, breathplay words: 2407 tags: @ivmp, @leonskittenbunny

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A year ago your husband died. Since then you felt lost and deeply confused by your own feelings. Grief is always described as something specific with the same face. Yours was different, all you could do was stand still and not feel anything. Bad glare from people every time you weren’t fitting into a stereotypical widow, has led to guilt. He wasn’t a bad person, not at all. You got married quickly, but in the end, your relationship got more formal and was based on mutual respect. He was religious though, you do not really care about religion in general, but as a matter of respect, you decided to realize his last wish. In such confused and dark period of your life, this decision brought you a new presence in your life which spawned you a suffocating desire in your chest.

Leon is nice, he supported you after the death of your husband. Handsome too, wearing a black shirt with a nice white collarino around his neck, not hiding his Adam’s apple which makes you feel the urge to sink your teeth into its flesh and take a bite. He helped to prepare and perform the funeral, so it was natural for your attention to shift to be more focused on him, not on your sorrow anymore. Leon is a little bit awkward with you which adds more charm. And he is lonely, so it was easy for you to get closer to him, by being a ‘friend’. You like how his cheeks paint with a soft blush after you lean closer to him or your hand ‘accidentally’ brushes against his. Maybe he is a little bit older than you, but this doesn’t bother you a lot. And how your gaze always roamed lower than his face didn’t go unnoticed by him, catching him clearing his throat and rubbing his chin, but his gaze always found its way back to you. However, if you were to describe what you simply liked the most about him; he is a priest. The forbidden fruit is the sweetest and you are no different from Eve.

Leon is the man who filled every empty hole in your life, but not the one you wanted the most and you had to do it by yourself. One of many nights, your fingers would crawl under your lacy panties to touch your pussy, while the other hand would knead your breast. Filling the room with moans and picturing him to do that, how nice would his mouth feel on your nipples while the tip of his dick would kiss your cervix and paint your walls with his sperm. Such fantasies have become a routine already, touching yourself in the bed where your late husband should be, no longer feeling guilty.

Someone would tell you, you should be drowning in guilt and be ashamed, but it seems you were born shameless. You don’t care. The dim light of the stained-glass windows cast a soft, multicolored glow over you, both sitting on the wooden pew. His rough hand is resting on your shoulder gently while his blue eyes are set on your frame, his other hand reaches to your chin, tilting your head up gently and he meets your gaze. You force down more than two or three tears in front of him, your hands are clasped. Looking sad and awful over your late husband you don’t care about anymore.

“Oh father” and you can feel his hand traveling down from your shoulder to your waist and he gives it a light squeeze, his blue eyes don’t hide what he is feeling right now. He leans closer to you, his frame is a little bit over yours and your eyes drift to a Rosary that hugs his wrist, the pendant with crucifix dangling in the air. “You can call me by my name right now…” he tries to correct you in a hoarse voice, he is speaking low and quietly, forgetting about the fact that the church is empty. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned” you interrupted him, your breathing filling the space and he grinned, letting out a chuckle. Your hands unclasp to reach for the buttons of your bodice and start to undo them, not trying to be slow or teasing and exposing quickly the flesh of your chest to his gaze. Your nipples are already hard and they get harder at the cold air brushing them.

“You have indeed, my child” Leon says, biting lower lip before his hands start moving down to the skirt of your dress, raising it until your underwear gets exposed to his gaze. Hungrily eyeing it for a second before his attention shifts towards the nearby candle holder and one of his hands leaves your flesh to reach for one of the candles, bringing it closer to you. It casts a soft glow and you can see its light flickering in his blue eyes, there is a comfortable warmth coming from it too. “But I am here to absolve you of your sins, little lamb” Leon looks down at you, his hand tilts the candles and lets the dollop of wax fall on the skin of your thigh. The sensation is hot, as it connects with your flesh, making you flinch softly and letting out a gasp. The newfound pain subsides into a warm, throbbing pleasure while his other hand travels down to hold your thigh and pull your body closer to him. Raising the hot stick more, now wax is dripping on the flesh of your chest, making you arch your body cause of the feeling of a light sting turning into a high pleasure. “Pain can cleanse the soul, suffering brings us closer to God” He whispers and his eyes are set on your lower body, after the wax dries it leads to another hot dollop. It feels like a soothing caress and your senses get heightened every time a new drop meets your skin. The wooden pew creaked beneath your weight as you leaned back, the sound of it echoing through the empty church. Leon's grin widened, his eyes locked on the exposed lace of your underwear as his palm slide up to it, thumb softly pressing against the already wet slit. His digit starts slowly rubbing your clothed clit, clockwise circles and pressure applied on the bud bring more pleasure, while wax continues to drip down, a light feeling of pain adding more pleasure and making you sensitive.

While placing away the candle, Leon’s eyes behold the sight of you, legs spread and moaning quietly his name, you probably are not realizing this which makes his cock stir in pants painfully, desperate to be released and to be balls deep inside your tight pussy, or any other possible hole. The image in his mind is so clear and arousing, that he lets out a shaky sigh. He isn’t sure how long he has relied only on his fist, convincing himself that this was enough while he would jerk off on sexy chicks in cheap magazines or watch amateur porn in his bedroom, hiding from the eyes of God. Today is going to be different, this time God is going to have a good show. “Are you not ashamed?” He says, his two thick fingers press against your clit and circle slowly, before pinching it with index and thumb, forcing a louder moan. He pushed aside the wet fabric of your underwear, exposing your drenching cunt to his gaze. You don’t answer, you are too distracted by the sight of his hand coming to unbutton and free his cock from his pants. His hard length is thick and throbbing, leaking with precum from the slit of the pink tip and it is aching for your attention. You reach your hand to palm it, to feel the skin and stroke it, but all you get is a slap on your flesh, making your fist retreat.

“Seducing a man of God, you don’t even listen to me, do you?” Leon’s tongue makes a ‘tsk’ sound, condescendingly shaking his head. “A man of God should not be so easily swayed away from his faith” You taunt him, your fingertips lightly brushing on the fabric of his shirt, tugging some buttons and undoing them to take a glance at his skin underneath. A smile played on your lips, which made Leon’s face grimace for a brief moment, clearly annoyed by your words. In a quick motion, he lifts you and shoves you down on the flat surface of the altar which makes you let out a loud whimper. Another whine escapes from your mouth when a light slap lands on your cheek and you feel more slick pooling. “Maybe this is a divine plan,” he says, standing in between your legs, his cock pressed against your cunt, your hips jerking at the feeling of his spit on it. “Nothing escapes his gaze, be sure he wants this too”

The chilly liquid contrasts with the hot arousal you are feeling in between your legs. He rubbed his cockhead against your slick fold, coating it with your essence while spreading the spit around with his cock which increase the squelching wet sounds which only aggravates his own desire. Not really thinking much about anything than burying his dick in you, Leon guided your hips down onto his cock and slowly sank into your drenching heat, stretching its inner walls. Your pussy envelopes his length in a warm and slick embrace, clenching around him tightly, he lets out an involuntary groan. There is a pleasant hint of pain which quickly fades as his hips begin thrusting upwards. Slowly and teasing stroke, his hand is resting on the surface of the altar, leaning over you and he is panting heavily before his breathing gets muffled by your breasts. Burying his face in between and sucking on the skin, crawling up until his mouth stops on the hard nipple, playing with it sloppily and nibbling. Your eyes roll back into the head and your body arches into his movements when his hips sped up, his balls slap against the flesh of your ass. Squelching and wet sounds, combined with the flesh-hitting ones fill the church. Every deep and rough thrust with his cock hit well your pudgy spot, making you wetter and your walls clench tighter around him. Your own slick drips, stain the material of the altar, but you don’t notice this cause you are drowning deep in the bliss. A loud whimper escaped from your lips when you felt something wrapping around your neck, clearly not expecting it to be his Rosary and his movements ceased, holding one of the first beads and his thumb rubs onto it.

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven” his hoarse voice prays, Leon bowed his head closer to your lip and he kissed you. He doesn’t wait or try to be gentle with it, teeth sinking onto the flesh of your lower lip and drawing light drops of blood which he licked away quickly as they appeared. His cock began pumping again as he repeats the words, slurring. His tongue delves deeper, tasting you.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of death.” He recites another prayer, his thumb shifted to the other bead while his hips move, thrusting deeper, one of these kissed your cervix roughly with his tip. His hand starts tugging tighter on the rosary, limiting the oxygen in your body. He pulls out before slamming back, roughly bullying his cock into your wet hole, his pace returns to a fast one and Leon groans at the pleasure of having your tight and wet walls clinging to his length.

“Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit…” Leon hissed breathlessly. A deep and fast thrust before he stops for a moment to grind his tip into your cervix, the hold gets tighter and your body starts getting more numb, feeling your head getting lightheaded. It is scarily arousing, your fingers reach to his arms, leaving scratches all over exposed skin. He began pounding your drenching hole and the pace grew more aggressive, hitting your g-spot and cervix more often and making you squeal. His hold tightened until the Rosary broke and you felt oxygen rushing into your body, bringing you to higher pleasure from overflowing sensations. Your frame shudders and you let out a cry, vision gets blurry and head empty, as your pussy spasms around him, sucking in and milking his length. You can feel the beating of your heart ringing in your ears, but you don’t get any time to respite. Leon doesn’t try to hold his moans, the feeling of your walls spasming leads his cock to twitch. His climax began building up quickly, making his hips roll roughly and your nails dig more into his flesh, leaving red half-moon marks. But his thrusts don’t slow down and get a little bit messier, overstimulating your body and intensifying your orgasm. He slams his cock deeper, tip pressing against the cervix as he finally reached his high - his cock sprouts rope after ropes of his cum inside your still clenching hole.

“Amen” Leon groans, his voice shaky from the pleasure circling in his body. He lolls his head back, half-lidded eyes looking up at the ceiling of the church. His chest is rising heavily, you are both out of breath and the sound is filling the space, echoing on the walls.

“Fuck, I think I was close to seeing God” you mutter out breathlessly, looking up at Leon and he finds your words funny, his hand reaches to push away your hair from your eyes. “You won’t be the first” he replies with a low chuckle, his arm wrapped around your waist to pull you closer. You shift, sitting on the table more comfortably letting your head rest against his chest. His heartbeat is chaotic and still hasn’t calmed down from your escapade, but your attention shifted and was brought to the crucifix of Christ, his half-lidded and sorrowful eyes looking down at both of you. The only witness of the act, the thought made your skin cover in goosebumps and the air of church feel chillier than before.

[dancermk]

I’m a little disappointed to see so much discourse, fandom competitiveness, and plain arguing going around at the moment in regards to queer film/TV. People complaining about too much sex, not enough sex, too cheesy, made for the hets, too happy, too sad, too realistic, too unrealistic, and a million other petty issues. I, for one, am a queer person in my 50s and I grew up with practically zero representation! Yes, we want to continue onwards and upwards with quality and varied shows BUT let’s be HAPPY we now have representation! Like, actual shows where the central characters are queer, not just a side character who gets f*cking murdered! There is room for all different types of representation - so enjoy the types you like, and let others enjoy what they like.

And on a side note: progress is progress and film/tv is a business that has to turn a profit! If some queer content is made to appeal to the straight community, and will also act as a means of reducing homophobia and increasing understanding, then that’s a good thing. That means in the future more and more content will include queer stories and representation. If only 10% (ish) of the population is the maximum target audience then shows won’t keep getting made!

There is a huge backlash all over the world right now - a “push back” by conservatives and religious groups that want to wind back the clock, and specifically the last decade of advances.

So stick together queers and LGBTQIA+ allies.

I’m super happy knowing I don’t have to wait years between content anymore. And I’ve loved all different types of shows over the last 5 years, for lots of different reasons!

Interview with the Vampire - is giving me the toxic, passionate gothic love affair I’ve always wanted. And addressing interracial relationships.

Heartstopper - is filling me up with pure joy and hopefulness for the future.

Shameless - gave me Ian and Mickey - unique, anti stereotypical gays with a tragic yet ultimately beautiful love story spanning 11 years

Lone Star 911 - is giving me TK and Carlos whose sexuality barely factors into the storyline! Yay!

Looking - gave me an authentic queer experience and an intoxicating love triangle.

Red, white and Royal Blue - gave me a sweet, cute romcom that allowed reality to be sidelined. Fun escapism!

Young Royals - had me captivated by first love and intense angst.

Fire Island - an underrated romcom that made me laugh so hard I cried.

Sex education - shoved the realities of sex in our faces and provided me with laughter and drama and a range of queer identities.

Gentlemen Jack -gave me historical lesbians with spectacular wit, and feminine power.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg- because there’s SO SO SO many more shows I could mention! Don’t at me because I didn’t mention YOUR favourite. This is my point! There is SO much great content it would take all day for me to include everything. This is just a sample - and that’s f*cking brilliant!!

So maybe we could all start posting/tweeting etc about what WE DO LIKE / LOVE / MAKES US FEEL LOVED AND SEEN and put down the device if we’ve got nothing nice to say.

Sending everyone a love filled week! 💜