#the bead work on this is pure art

[writhingchaos]

Christian Dior Haute Couture FW 2007

[hamletthedane]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

[luvwestwood]

❝ SAVE A COW, MILK THE ...!? ❞ - Choso Kamo

— (18+) .. SEEMS LIKE THE LOCAL MILKMAN HAS A DIFFERENT TYPE OF MILK IN STORE FOR YOU.

ᯓ★ warnings. (18+), milkman! choso, msub to mdom, overstimulation, titty jobs, p in v, resolved sexual tension, oral (m rec), squirting, slow burn, praising, slight? creampie, suggestive language and actions

ᯓ★ notes. I made choso soo whiny in this I fear.. please beware, there is a LOT of irony in this LMAOO.. plus I need him real bad I think u can tell, anyways hope u all enjoy, this was my 1.4k gift <3

4,862 words (17m read)

please check out and support the actual artists piece on twt!/ig, - @/iamdebruh! + art (center of heading) is by @/yunonoai on twt.

Eggs, sugar, heavy cream, flour, vanilla extract and.. and..?

You analyse the countertop carefully, eyes flickering over each ingredient you had pulled out of the grocery bags less than a minute ago.

"Let's try this again.." Sticking a finger out, you point at the produce one by one, performing a routine of a silly head-count. "Okay- eggs, sugar, heavy cream, flour, vanilla extract and…" Your index finger lands on an empty space that was yet to be filled, and finally, it registers into that brain of yours.

"Oh, how could I possibly forget the milk?!" You cry out in pure distraught, scanning the other countertops in hopes of accidentally misplacing it somewhere instead. Pretty useless though, as no sudden miracle was to be found anywhere.

Groaning, you bury your face into the palm of your hands— mentally cursing at yourself for forgetting one of the vital ingredients for the cream pie, how could you?

Hissing as you pace around the kitchen, you open the fridge with brutal force, head close enough to imploding as you rummage inside for a drop of milk to be found.

"There's no way I'm making a second trip. Not with these gas prices." You whisper to yourself, drawing your head back from being stuck deep inside the fridge, using the curve of your ass shut the doors.

Nibbling on your fingernails, you take one more glance at the ingredients on the counter; contemplating whether you should head back, give up fully and try another day, or….

ding dong!

Hand on hip, your head darts to one side, towards the sound of the doorbell. Who could it be?

Dragging your feet to the front door, you reach over by your side to the console table; digging your hands into the glass bowl for your keys.

Another knock sounds from the door, a deep voice speaking from behind it. “..Delivery!”

As you fiddled with the lock, you glanced over to the clock on the wall; reading exactly half past four in the afternoon. You weren't expecting anyone, really. You usually kept to yourself on Fridays, just to relax from a week’s worth of busy work.

Taking a swift look into the peephole, you could only see the glass covered with white— it seems that whoever is outside is clearly blocking the view.

The door opens widely, revealing a familiar figure you tend to see a few times each week— the milkman. You take note of the few beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, unable to be hidden by his cap. Did he.. run here?

Dark brown hair, tickling the top of his shoulders; cap embellished with "Milkman" just before the brim. Covered in white, bar his black pants. You recall that he goes by the name Choso, a piece of valuable information you managed to pull out of him during an interaction only a few weeks ago.

You must admit, your milkman was quite decent looking for someone with a position like his, and the cute bow tie encircled around his neck depicted him to look sweet and dandy. Wait, there's no way I'm swooning over my local milkman right now.

"Oh, Choso- How could I forget?!" You chirp, seems as if he came at the most ideal time you could possibly think of. "What a coincidence, just in time for my cream pie!"

His biceps scream against the fabric of his short-sleeves, begging to be let out as he tightens his grip around the neck of the glass bottle. "I-in time for your what?" Ears painted with a tinge of red, he looks shocked, more on the flustered side.

Letting out an anxious giggle, you point back behind you with the use of your thumb. "Sorry- I meant I was just about to bake a cream pie right now, and I realised I forgot the milk." Looking over your shoulder, then back at him, he smiles back; clearly flustered over the misunderstanding.

"R-right, I apologise, it's been a really long day.." He hands over the bottle, slightly crouching down to pick up his carrier that rested at his feet. "You're actually my last delivery today, they let me off early cause of the work I've done this week."

Holding the door open with your foot, you carefully place the jug on the same console table behind you, smiling to yourself as he went on a tangent about all the things he had accomplished this week— as if he was expressing genuine content rather than boasting.

"Well someone has been a good boy this week, huh?" You innocently beam at him, Choso's knuckles growing white as he clenched the carriers handle. He seems appreciative of the comment, but looks as if he wasn't used to receiving any.

"..Yeah.." Diverting his gaze away from you, he decides to stare down at the top of his shoes, until something you say has his eyes darting back up at you in a split second. The air so thick with tension, the two of you suddenly stay silent.

Humming before you speak your words, you ponder and wonder if your offer was a bit out of line. "..Would you like to come in for a bit? I could really use some help in the kitchen," Not hearing an immediate response from him, you add on, "You could have some of my cream pie afterwards. It would be a workout going down all those steps again, I assume!"

Choso reaches a free hand behind his head, scratching at his nape in contemplation. He knew that you were referring to the endless flights of stairs that were nothing but a nuisance to him as he tried to get to your apartment.

The fact that you had been the only customer in this entire apartment block, didn't have any effect on him though— as it was you he was looking forward to see each time he's out on the job.

Each time he dropped the same jug of milk at yours, only meant that his low lying interest in you would continuously grow, to the point that he couldn't think of anything else, but you. The man was whipped.

He wanted to get to know you better, but couldn't muster up the courage. He felt as if there never an appropriate time to do so, and the fact he landed a job as milkman, the guy assumed that you thought of him very little.

“I.. don’t know if I should..” He mumbles, anxiety and hesitation written all over his face— so easily read.

You roll your eyes, now leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, Choso slightly taking a step back to refrain from crossing a certain line with you so up close. “Come on, it’s not like I’ll get back to your boss with this!”

Crashing at yours for a bit meant that he'd finally have the opportunity to spend some time with you. Little steps, am I right? He couldn't miss out on something like this. Only a fool would do so.

"..I-I'd love to help you with your cream pie." He blurts out, lips parted due to solely being mesmerised. The two of you gawk at each other for longer than intended, but it doesn’t allow things to turn awkward. Was it the choice of words? The tone? What was it, really?

You blankly stare at him for a second longer than he did, nodding in approval. You had very little hope in him actually saying yes. "..Alright, come in." Beckoning at Choso, you step aside, noticing how he hesitates for a moment, just before he enters at his own will.

You watch as he walks further into the apartment, stopping considerably at a point just to not go out of bounds.

Your own eyes trail down his back, surprisingly so broad, that was now facing you. Having to peel your gaze away, you safely lock the door, dropping the key back into the dish beside you.

Grabbing at the jug, you make your way past Choso; taking yet another glance behind your shoulder for reassurance, just to see him trailing behind you like an obedient puppy.

"Make yourself feel at home, don't be shy!" You remarked, stepping around the kitchen island as you gathered the ingredients back onto the counters; Choso stopping just by the stools in front of you. He seemed all quiet and timid, even doing a double take before he decides to place his carrier on a stool beside him.

He sets aside his cap, politely tucking it away into his carrier before calling for you from across the island. “So.. Is there anything I could help with..?” Extremely eager to assist you in your endeavours, he found it so absurd that he was literally with you, right now, in your own apartment.

“I’m okay for now, just relax for the time being.” Your tone reassuring, you continue your current task as soon as you flash him another smile.

Swiftly putting some ingredients into a bowl, you still occasionally glance up at Choso— the second time round, you didn't even notice that he was already situated beside you, his hands gripping at the edge of the counters as he watched your every move.

"..Hmm, you ever made a cream pie, Choso?" You blurt out, carefully sieving the flour into yet another bowl. You must admit, your words intentionally had a different meaning to them. It was funny, and you knew he would flip out; his burning gaze at the side of your head being unavoidable.

His cheeks flash hot, words stumbling after one another. "I uh, haven't, no.." His voice growing small, you were right in thinking that he thought of a different kind.

Choso mentally argued with himself for doing so, as now wouldn't be the best time to feel his cock strain against his pants. He had to immediately swat the thoughts away, as they were already tight enough. "..Have you?"

His sudden reply had your sieving come to a halt as you slowly looked up to him next and you; just to see that he was still doing the same. Staring into his eyes, you try to think of an answer, swallowing the lump in your throat in the midst of it all.

"..No, I haven't." Your words come out in a whisper, noticing how his eyes alternate between yours and your parted lips. "I've never made one.. It's my first time today." Blinking slowly, you grow timid, your eyes making its way back to the bowl.

Resting your two hands flat down on the counter, Choso's breath hitches— his finger reaching down towards your chin. Guiding you to properly look up, he slightly crouches down to close the space between you two, and in a split second, your lips latch onto each other.

Eyes squeezing shut, you melt into the kiss, wrapping both arms around his neck to bring him closer; Choso letting out a subtle grunt as he hesitates about where to place his hands.

"I.. wanna touch you,” Resting his forehead against yours, his voice trembles, finishing with a helpless crack. Choso was practically begging you, and something about that just had you over the edge. "You don't know how much I've been wanting this.. I need you.. please..”

And he wasn’t lying. He wondered how your soft skin felt to his touch. He always wondered whether he would ever be able to have the chance to make you feel good.

Breathing heavily against his lips, you just nod hysterically, and in less than a second he slithers both hands under your ass, hoisting you into his embrace as he gently places you on the counter beside.

Your lips crash onto each others once again, Choso feeling up and down your body, his demeanor showing how much he's been wanting this for ages. He couldn't even believe it himself. You? Allowing him to have you? Is he dreaming?

A mewl escapes your lips as he cups your face into his hands, his ticklish kisses eventually moving down to your neck, the way he touches you seem so tender, and genuine, Choso didn't want to rush anything. He wanted to savour you.

He anchors himself between your legs— chest heaving so intensely from pure excitement. Meanwhile, you strip your top off, Choso swallowing a lump as he processes the fact that you had nothing else underneath this whole time.

He wastes no time, eagerly latching his mouth onto a breast, groaning as he firmly shuts his eyes, tongue relentlessly swirling around your nipple. His free hand fondles with the other as you comb your fingers through his hair, caressing it gently to let him know he's doing a good job.

You let out a string of breathy moans, a pop sounding from his mouth as he lets go. Pausing for a moment, you try stabilise your breathing, confusion written on his face.

"The sofa," You pant, Choso doing more so the same; his brows furrowed in despair as he yearns for more of you. "Let's move to the sofa.."

And he nods, beckoning you to wrap your legs around his torso once again, your arms being used as support to cling to him. You rest your head against his chest for a split second, allowing you to hear the ecstatic pace at which his heart was going at.

His feet stops just before the sofa, giving you the opportunity to drop back down, in which you suddenly grab his hand and pull him along. Choso seems perplexed, until you gently push him down onto the sofa by the chest, and he could do nothing but stare at you in pure adoration.

"Just relax yourself, okay?" Your voice soft, you kneel after he nods obediently, more than happy to agree with whatever you say.

You don’t dare look away, fingers toying at his belt buckle; which soon enough you end up undoing. Choso was about to lose his mind, and it took a lot in him to not leak right here, right now.

Tugging on the waistline of his pants, the man shifts his hips around to allow for more leeway. His mouth remains open as quiet, irregular huffs slip out, so eager to experience the very next thing you'll be doing.

Stopping as soon as his pants met his ankles, you smile, noticing the wet spot that had formed on his boxers— your hand gently rubbing up and down his protruding bulge. A whimper chokes out of him as he shuffles around a bit more, causing him to bite down on his bottom lip to suppress any more moans. He was too afraid to admit that anything you do has him melting.

All he could do was look down at you between his legs in bliss. Choso just couldn't believe it, and this was definitely not how he expected to end his evening.

His boxers follow after his pants, feeling him shudder under your touch as he comes into contact with the cold air. You shift around upon seeing his throbbing, leaking tip; not letting anymore time pass as you wrap your mouth over it, your satisfied humming sending vibrations to and through him.

Looking up to observe a reaction, Choso only slaps a hand over his mouth, groaning into it as his face returns to the same, crimson red; his other hand shaking as he tries to rest it on the back of your head.

Your head bobs up and down, cheeks hollowing and a free hand kneading at his balls for extra stimulation— Choso endlessly whimpering into his palm as his head falls back into the cushions, eyes eventually closing as he floated around in a pool of pleasure.

Buckets of spit trickled down your chin as you continued sucking him off, Choso squirming in the seat from time to time, his legs unable to stay still. You decide to take another peek, looking at him one more time, and thought to yourself; he seemed cute with the bowtie still on, his actions causing a flutter in your abdomen.

"Mmh," Muffled, as he was too busy suppressing a loud moan, he gives up, hand leaving his mouth to grab onto the sofa behind him. His other free behind your head tightens its grip, Choso suddenly fucking his hips up from the sofa, his teeth gritting as helpless grunts try to slip out. "Cu.. I'm gonna.. Uh.."

Your two hands suddenly place flat onto his thighs as he fucks into your throat, Choso's array of whines intensifying as he feels his balls contracting constantly, his face so warm to the touch.

So helpless, his two hands sets its place into your scalp, Choso bottoming his cock into your throat as he lets out a lengthy moan as a familiar feeling he had never felt washes through his body.

Tears welling up in your eyes, you mentally note to yourself to continue breathing through your nose, Choso’s prolonged groan causing a pool between your legs. You feel a rope of warm fluid shoot down your pipes, your hands repeatedly slapping at his thighs for a sliver of air.

His head hauling back down, he didn’t look the same as he did a few minutes ago— Choso’s eyes low and dark as he pulls you off his cock, a questionable grunt coming from him as he takes note of your fucked up face.

He tried his best not to laugh as you shot him a deathly glare, and of course failed. His smile fades, turning into horror as he watches you slide his cock in the midst of your cleavage, lip quivering as you drop an orb of your own spit on his tip that was slightly peeking out.

Choso’s hands grip at a cushion nearby on the sofa as you began to clamp your breasts together around his cock, moving them both up and down— throaty whimpers instantly emitting from him as you reinforced the stimulation on his still sensitive girth.

“Nghh—,” He cries out, mouth left gaped as he felt yet another foreign knot forming in his stomach; somehow identical to what he felt before orgasm, but just stronger.

“It’s too.. too much,” His words come out in a whisper, Choso’s let’s stamping the sides of your arms as you were anchored between them— his whiny voice trembling as he felt yet another impending orgasm that was about to hit him even harder.

A devilish smile plasters onto your face as you occasionally stuck a tongue out to chafe over his throbbing tip, Choso only able to let out deep grunts this entire as he occasionally looked down at you in a state of euphoria.

“Agai-n, I’m.. cum..” Incapable of finishing a sentence, his tit engulfed cock twitches, much thicker ropes of white shooting up into the air, dropping back down into your chest as it splatters droplets everywhere.

Choso’s head feels heavy at this point, his eyes lazily scanning his surroundings as he spots you decorated with the white drops that somehow managed to make its way to your face too.

Getting back to his senses, he attempts to sit up, legs still weak but with enough strength, his first instinct was to tend to you; the same hands clawed in your scalp making its way back to your cheeks as he kissed you so lovingly, his teeth nipping at those lips that were wrapped around his cock a few minutes ago.

Him being the first to pull always, it seems Choso has a request of his own. “..Get on the sofa,” he instructs, no sign of a stutter left to be heard within his words.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you beam a sinister smile as your aching knees rise off the ground— followed by you throwing yourself onto the sofa beside him.

You watch as he slightly jerks his cock, his eyes watching you take your turn obey orders. Raising your hips slightly to make things easier, you stripped the last of your garments; kicking away your underwear to the other side of the room.

Choso mirrors your actions, kicking off his shoes and trousers as he follows with his knee settling between your legs. You look up and survey his every move as his fingers yank at his bow tie, loosening it overall— his hands still trembling as he attempts to undo all buttons of his shirt.

You giggle, reaching down playfully toying with yourself as you place a foot on his bicep, shamelessly exposing your pussy even more to him as he peered down at you in utter silence.

Finally stripping away his shirt, the bow tie keeps its place and hangs around his neck— your impatient self subtly grinding against his thigh— your slick evidently leaving a mark on his skin.

“Just fuck me, Choso..” You whisper, sticking a finger into your leaking hole that has been that way ever since you made out with each other. Your words examined his ability to maintain his composure, Choso felt that it was time you did the things he wanted you to do.

His breathing hitches, Choso sucking in a breath as he leans in closer, as he guides the tip of his cock to align with your hole. An unoccupied hand grabs your legs, hoisting both on each of his shoulders.

Folding you into a mean mating press, your arms encircle his back, your moans tickling the shell of his ears as he slid himself in— throaty grunts also sounding from him.

Choso begins to move his hips slowly, your mouth gasping at his girthy cock stretching you out completely— his face buried into the crook of your neck as his hot breath fanned against your skin.

“Faster.. faster Choso..” You plead, his hips immediately snapping into you at a faster pace, his lowly grunts returning to the familiar whimpers as your gummy walls wrapped around his entire length. Feeling him in your gut, you chant his name like a prayer, Choso doing his best to fuck you in all the right spots.

A loud moan slips past your lips, your manicured nails scratching at his chiselled back like a kitty and it’s scratch post. As he fucked you into the sofa, something similar to a growl was heard from him as you dragged your nails down his entire back; surely leaving an evident trace of you behind.

Seemingly not enough for him, he uses his knuckles by your sides to prop himself up- Choso grabbing your ankles into the grasp of one hand and pushing them down further and infront of him this time.

On the verge of losing his mind, Choso’s hips brutally fuck into you, his cock deeper than ever— a white, creamy ring forming at his shaft.

His heart races at the sight of his thick cock disappearing in and out of you down below, Choso almost hypnotised at the sights as if he were eyeing a pendulum. His hand lets go of your ankles, grabbing for the edge of the sofa above your head— cock drilling you mercilessly into the cushions.

You mewl and whine, utilising maximum strength to keep your eyes open and hold a good view of Choso, his free thumb reaching down to swipe a stripe on your cheek as he coos a few praises at you.

The position you were in as of now had been churning both of your minds, Choso admittedly finding it difficult to continue fucking into you as he was about to cum at any given moment.

“Fuck,” he sucks in a breath through clenched teeth, eyes looking into yours as he studied your facial expressions, “So pretty,” Your cheek eventually fits into his palm as he fluctuates the pace at which he was fucking into you— nothing but satisfaction and adoration to be seen in his eyes.

His hips rut into your hole slow and deep, your hands grabbing at his wrists as you felt him bullying your cervix— cock endlessly rubbing between your walls, tip seldomly hitting against your sweet spots.

The legs of the sofa creak against the floor boards, eventually beginning to scoot itself to another side of the room. You couldn’t care less about consequences you might face with the downstairs neighbours tomorrow.

Strands of his hair stick to his forehead and temples, your fingers hooking around the strap of his necktie to pull in him closer, your lips yearning to have his on yours.

Your walls uncontrollably clench around his length, Choso’s head falling back in bliss; his mouth emitting short, overwhelmed breaths for a few seconds.

Your tits press against his chiselled chest as he fucks you silly, almost as if it was payback for treating him like he was clueless. Did you really think he’d let you boss him around?

Choso’s leans down once again, mouth sucking and leaving marks all over your breasts as he feels himself coming to one of his many orgasms today— buckets of sweat glistening over his physique like a glossy finish.

You grab at his bicep, slapping it repeatedly to give him notice of your impending orgasm— Choso planting a wet kiss on your lips to quickly swallow the ‘O’ your mouth had formed.

He instantly slides his cock out of your hole, taking his length into his fist as he pumps himself slow. His fingers fan over your clit as he ushered you to orgasm and make a mess, so desperate to have you cum all over him. Alternating between sticking his middle and ring finger inside, Choso curls his digits up as he jerks his fingers inside of you.

Your head peers down to see his forearms flexing with his every move, your eyes rolling to the back of your head; squelching noises coming from your pussy.

“Don’t…don’t do that-“ Your brows furrow, lips returning to its O shape as you attempted to hold his wrist as he continued to curl his fingers into you. He knew what he was doing. Choso wanted to make you squirt.

His pleas fucking your mind to an extent, it felt like a mixture of bliss and torture— your eyes struggling at this point to remain open.

“..Come on,” He urges, so needy as he strokes his cock as in-front of you as he watches how you unravel underneath him; Choso slapping his heavy length on your inner thigh whenever he has the chance. “Come on pretty, let go—“

“O-oh, Choso—“ You squeal, fingers reaching and scraping at his pelvis as he got back at you for fucking him up to overstimulation. Your nipples sore and perky, he had to resist the urge to suck on them again.

He spits out his words closely together, pressing his forehead against yours for the second time as you peered your eyes up into his.

“Come on, come on- that’s it,” Choso cooing at you as you released your juices all over his fingers, a sob could be heard from you as a hot flush rushes through your body.

His hand absolutely soaked as he pulls out, Choso nonchalantly wraps his mouth around his fingers, sucking on your slick— his saliva mixing in with the shining fluid that covered his hands.

Pulling you closer to his pelvis by hooking his two hands around your thighs, Choso slips himself back into your hole— your inner thighs soaking with juices.

A mutter of curses under his breath, Choso absolutely loved your warm walls taking his cock whole, his girthy length moving with ease due to the present slick.

Choso was on the verge of losing his mind once again as he realised that he literally got you to squirt less than a few seconds ago, his cock desperately throbbing all over again.

His cock fucks in and out of you, this time cautiously slow as he made sure not to cum inside of you— your clenching walls making it a difficult task for him.

Too sensitive, Choso pulls his cock out with haste, slapping his tip against your clit as he released his own load just outside of your pussy. His entire face flooded with rouge, cock profusely leaking; his grunts in synchronisation with his throbbing balls.

With the use of his tip, Choso pushes the load back into your hole, his cock completely stilling inside for the time being.

Your mind in a daze, you let out a sigh, Choso’s hand caressing up and down the side of your legs as he remained anchored between them.

“We literally just fucked off with the baking. Went and did a whole other cream pie…” You scoff, hanging your head off the sofa, an upside down view of your kitchen filling your vision— everything still left exactly how it was on the countertop.

Silently laughing, Choso takes your leg into his grasp, his head turning to the side as he plant a kiss on your calves. Bringing a hand down to your hole, he stuffs a digit or two in, scooping a few beads of his cum allowing it to coat his fingertips before moving his hand closer to your lips.

“..Milk delivery,” Choso chimes, mimicking his first words from outside your door earlier.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24 . all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not repost on a third party platform.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts! it means the world to me. ily all soo soo much!

[luvwestwood masterlist]

[alyrasturnz]

hiiii! sorry if i’m burdening but is it possible if you could write a pure fluffy fic abt matt where he sees the readers sh scars and he comforts her? sorry if it’s not descriptive enough, i hope i’m not burdening! i never see any fics like this and i really like your work x

 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎CARDIGAN

❐ summary » matt revealed to you that your scars were not mere blemishes but the testament of a lifelong battle, each one a chapter in your story of resilience. he helped you see that these marks were not symbols of shame but emblems of your enduring strength and unyielding spirit.

❐ pairings » bf!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » ⚠️ this is not meant for everyone ⚠️ , mentions of self harm , scars

❐ a/n && w/c » oh this one hit home a lil 😬 • 2.50k

in the dimly lit room, you and matt were nestled together on the couch, the soft luminescence of the television casting an almost otherworldly glow upon your faces. your head found solace against his chest, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing providing a soothing cadence that matched the tranquil atmosphere.

your knees gently rested upon his thighs, creating an intimate entanglement that spoke volumes of your closeness. both of you were cocooned beneath a shared blanket, its warmth enveloping you like a protective embrace.

the quiet hum of the tv and the occasional flicker of light painted shadows on the walls, adding to the serene and almost magical ambiance.

in that moment, time seemed to stand still, the world outside fading into insignificance as you both reveled in the sanctuary of each other's presence.

his arm was intricately entwined around your waist, drawing you ever closer with a gentle yet possessive pull, as though weaving an invisible bond that tethered your souls together in an embrace that defied the ordinary.

you and matt have been together for two months now, and each fleeting moment has been a tapestry of joy and connection, weaving together a narrative of shared laughter, deep conversations, and the blossoming of a profound bond that seems to grow stronger with each passing day.

he embodied everything you desired and beyond in a man. his humor was like a balm to your soul, his gentleness a soothing presence, and his way with words an art form, crafting sentences that lingered in your mind long after they were spoken.

you felt a solitary bead of sweat meander down your torso, tracing a path of warmth as you shifted slightly, the motion culminating in the slow, deliberate removal of your hoodie, which you pulled over your head with a languid grace.

you then reclined against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you, as he drew you nearer, his fingers idly toying with the hem of your shirt, each touch a tender whisper of affection.

he gazed down at you, bestowing a gentle kiss upon your head, his lips a fleeting caress. yet, as his eyes traveled, they came to rest upon your arms, lingering with a silent, unspoken contemplation.

his expression undergoes a profound transformation, shifting from a state of serene relaxation to one of acute concern. the once smooth and tranquil lines of his face become furrowed and tense, as if the weight of his thoughts has cast a shadow over his features, revealing the depth of his inner turmoil.

it was a subtle revelation, one that could have easily eluded his notice. yet, there they were, the straight and uniform whine streaks adorning your arms, silent witnesses to a deeper story.

he observed how some of the streaks overlapped, their intersections telling tales of repeated sorrow. his heart clenched at the sight, a visceral reaction that sent a tightening sensation through his lungs, as if the very air around him had grown heavy with unspoken anguish.

he bit down on his lip, the pressure a silent testament to the storm of emotions raging within him, each second of contact a desperate attempt to anchor himself amidst the chaos.

"hey," he murmured, his voice a gentle whisper as he slowly extended his hand toward your wrist. his movements were deliberate, almost reverent, as though he feared that a sudden motion might shatter the fragile moment.

"when did this happen?" he inquired softly, his fingers beginning their delicate journey along the lines of your scars. his touch was feather-light, tracing the marks with a tenderness that spoke volumes, each caress a silent promise of understanding and care.

you can see the worry etched in the depths of his eyes, yet there is no trace of judgment, only a profound yearning to comprehend and be present for you. his gaze, laden with concern, speaks of an earnest desire to bridge the chasm of your pain, offering solace through silent understanding.

you take a deep breath, feeling a tumultuous blend of vulnerability and relief wash over you. "it was a while ago," you begin, your voice a fragile whisper that barely stirs the air. "i went through some really tough times, and this was... how i coped." the words hang in the air, each one a fragment of the pain you endured, now gently released into the open.

matt's eyes remain steadfastly locked onto yours, his hand still resting gently on your arm as if anchoring you in the present. "i'm so sorry you had to go through that," he says, his voice imbued with a deep and genuine compassion. "i wish i had known. i wish i could have been there for you." his words carry the weight of unspoken regrets and a heartfelt desire to have offered you solace during your darkest moments.

you nod, a small, melancholic smile forming on your lips. "it's okay. it's in the past now. but... thank you for understanding." your words, though simple, carry the heavy burden of past sorrows now acknowledged and gently laid to rest.

"hey, it's okay," he said, his voice suffused with understanding and warmth. "you don't have to hide anything from me." his words, tender and unwavering, create a sanctuary where your truths can be unveiled without fear or reservation.

you hesitated, feeling a torrent of emotions surge within you. "i just... i don't want you to see them." your voice trembles, each word a delicate thread woven from the raw fabric of your vulnerability.

matt's eyes softened, and he took your hand in his, his thumb gently tracing the scars as if seeking to understand the silent stories they held. "these don't change how i feel about you. they don't change who you are." his words, tender and resolute, offered a sanctuary where your past pains could be acknowledged without altering the essence of your being.

his touch sent a shiver down your spine. to think that a touch as gentle as his was caressing the very spot where you had once traced the path of your cold, sharp blade was almost inconceivable.

the juxtaposition of his tender caress against the harsh, unforgiving memories of your past felt like a surreal dream, blurring the boundaries between pain and solace, reality and reverie.

it was as if his fingers were weaving a delicate tapestry of healing over the scars that once bore witness to your deepest anguish, each stroke a silent promise of understanding and acceptance.

the very notion that such tenderness could exist in the same space where darkness once reigned was both bewildering and profoundly moving, leaving you suspended in a moment where the past and present intertwined in an intricate dance of emotion.

tears welled up in your eyes, and you looked away, feeling the raw vulnerability seep into your very core. "it's just... sometimes it's hard to believe that." the words trembled on your lips, each syllable a fragile echo of the internal struggle that raged within you. the weight of disbelief and the yearning for acceptance clashed in a tumultuous storm, leaving you adrift in a sea of emotions where certainty seemed but a distant shore.

he cupped your face with his other hand, his fingertips tracing the contours of your jawline with a delicate precision, turning you to meet his unwavering gaze. his thumb gently brushed against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped.

he leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your skin, as he spoke with a quiet intensity. "you are strong, and brave, and beautiful. these scars are a part of your journey, but they don't define you. you do." his eyes searched yours, seeking to convey the depth of his sincerity, while his other hand softly rested on your shoulder, grounding you in the moment.

the tenderness in his touch and the profound depth of his affirmation wove together a tapestry of reassurance, urging you to perceive the strength and beauty that lay within, far beyond the visible marks of your past.

his presence, a steadfast anchor amidst the storm of emotions, offered a sanctuary where you could begin to see yourself through his eyes, resilient and whole.

he pulls you into a gentle hug, his arms encircling you with a protective warmth that feels like a shield against the world. "you don't have to go through anything alone anymore," he whispers into your ear, his breath a soft caress against your skin. "i'm here for you, always." his voice carries a promise, a vow etched in the quiet strength of his embrace, assuring you that you are no longer solitary in your struggles.

you feel a weight lift off your shoulders, a profound sense of relief washing over you as you realize you have someone who truly cares. "thank you, matt," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you hold him close. "that means more to me than you know." your words carry the depth of your gratitude, each syllable imbued with the unspoken emotions that surge within you, acknowledging the immense significance of his unwavering support.

matt pulls back slightly, his gaze locking onto yours with a sincerity so profound it makes your heart ache. "i mean it," he says, his voice steady and earnest. "whenever you feel like talking, or even if you just need someone to sit with you in silence, i'm here. you don't have to hide anything from me." his words weave a tapestry of reassurance, each one a thread that binds you closer, offering a sanctuary where your vulnerabilities can rest without fear.

you take a deep breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over you, like a gentle tide receding from the shore. "it's just... sometimes it feels like too much, you know? like i'm drowning and i can't find a way out." your words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken struggles and the suffocating sensation of being overwhelmed, as if the very essence of your being is submerged beneath an unyielding current.

he nods, his eyes reflecting a deep understanding. "i can't pretend to know exactly what you're going through, but i want to help in any way i can. even if it's just being here with you, letting you know you're not alone." his words are a balm, soothing the raw edges of your turmoil, offering a presence that promises unwavering support and a silent companionship in your darkest hours.

you feel tears welling up in your eyes, but they're not tears of sadness this time. they're tears of gratitude and hope. "you've already helped so much just by being here," you say, your voice trembling. "i don't know what i would do without you." your words quiver with the raw emotion of the moment, each tear a testament to the profound impact of his presence, a lifeline in the stormy sea of your struggles.

matt smiles softly, brushing a tear away from your cheek. "you don't have to worry about that," he says. "i'm not going anywhere. we're in this together." his words, tender and resolute, weave a promise of unwavering support, a beacon of steadfast companionship amidst the turbulent waves of uncertainty.

the two of you sit there for a while longer, wrapped in each other's presence. the tv continues to play in the background, but neither of you pays it any mind.

the world outside your shared bubble fades into insignificance, as the silent communication of your hearts speaks volumes, creating a sanctuary of mutual understanding and unspoken solace.

in this moment, the world feels a little less daunting, and the future a little brighter, knowing that you have someone who truly cares by your side.

the shadows of uncertainty recede, replaced by the warm glow of companionship, illuminating a path forward where hope and support intertwine, making each step a little lighter and each breath a little easier.

as the night grows darker, you both eventually drift into a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes when two hearts understand each other without the need for words.

the quietude envelops you like a soft blanket, a testament to the profound connection that transcends spoken language, where every breath and shared glance speaks volumes of unspoken understanding and mutual solace.

tags — @imwetforyourmom @meatballzerz69 @bandanamatt @pinkishpearls @thedangerousalleyway @sturniolo0bsessed @muchloveforhacker @stinkytinkywinky @jetameivous @everleiqh @conspiracy-ash @ifwdominicfike

[toomuchracket]

tiny bikini (office nerd matty x reader smut/fluff)

day 23 of summer75. matty really loves his girlfriend's tits. enjoy <3

the first thing matty hears when he wakes up is the sea, crashing softly outside the apartment. the first thing matty feels when he wakes up is warmth, balmy heat sending the odd bead of sweat rolling across his body, even though he's lying on top of the bedsheets. the first thing matty sees when he wakes up is you, hair splayed out across the pillow like a mermaid, soft body curled into his and pretty face beaming up at him.

the first thing matty does when he wakes up is smile. how could he not, alone on holiday with you and the sea and the sand and the sunshine?

“hi,” you whisper, blinking (adorably) sleepily and melting his heart. “i think we slept in.”

“we did?” matty cranes his neck to look at the alarm clock. half 12 in the afternoon. “fuck me, we really did,” he buries his face into your hair, inhaling the scent of your coconut shampoo and smiling when you giggle. “reckon we needed it, though, after how mental things have been at work.”

“yeah, we've been busy,” you stretch, and matty does his best not to be obvious about the fact he's staring at your boobs. “speaking of - agenda for today?”

“hmm,” he trills his lips, mind racing through a rolodex of potential holiday activities. a gentle breeze brings the sea air into the bedroom with it, and suddenly the answer is clear. “we could go to the beach? only if you want to, that is, we can do something else if not, i actually don't mi-”

“baby,” you gently place your index finger on his lips to shut him up, and a sense of total peace washes over him. “that sounds lovely.”

he kisses your finger, a feeling of pure love bubbling inside him when you laugh and snuggle even further into him. there's complete tranquillity for a moment, nothing but the two of you entwined and the summer day, your lips pressed into his chest and his hand gently skimming the soft skin of your back, stopping when it reaches the base of your spine; after maybe three skims, though, the tranquillity is marred slightly by your voice. “for god's sake, matthew, just put your hand on my arse. i know you want to.”

matty feels his cheeks redden, a smidge of embarrassment at being clocked so quickly flushing through him too. but it dissipates as fast as it comes on when he sees the smile on your face, a smile he matches. “sorry, darling. s'pose it's the art critic in me,” he quips, obliging your request (with unabashed glee). “first thing they tell us is that we shouldn't touch masterpieces, after all.”

he grins - no, cheeses - while you hide your face in his neck with a groan. “oh, babe, that was awful,” you shuffle so you can rest your arms on his hard chest, looking up at him with sparkly eyes and the shy smile you only seem to give him. fuck, you are beautiful, so beautiful that it actually gives matty a little bit of a heartache; worth it, though, to get to look at you. “but i kinda loved it. and you. i love you. a lot.”

“i love you,” matty kisses your nose, heart healing completely at the way you scrunch it cutely in response. “my sweet girl.”

you hum contentedly, pressing your forehead against his. “time to get up?”

“yeah, let's do it.”

admittedly, it does take you both a minute to get out of bed - a series of kisses take priority first, the head-melting breath-taking type of kisses matty dreamed about having with you since quite literally clapping eyes on you at work - but you're up and getting ready within the hour, sipping lattes and eating grapes while you potter around the apartment. another forty-five minutes after that, matty finds himself stood at the end of the bed, waiting for you to leave the bathroom and preoccupying himself with putting extra cartons of sangria in the beach bag. “darling, you almost done?”

“yeah,” your voice gets closer. “not sure if this is the right bikini, though.”

“come on, sweetheart, you know you look good in any…” his voice trails off as he looks at you stepping out into the bedroom. “...thing.”

good is an understatement, actually. the understatement. of the fucking… ever. matty's seen you in swimsuits before, practically fucked the life out of you in your gold leia birthday moment, but this is next level - the shimmery, claret fabric looks gorgeous against your glowing skin, the high cut of the bottoms makes those fucking legs of yours look a million miles long, and the double-strand ties on your thick hips actually make his mouth water, make him want to sink his teeth into you and mark you up.

and that's before he even thinks about your tits.

when he does finally manage to tear his eyes from your lower body, matty momentarily forgets how to breathe. the two triangles of fabric on your chest are doing very little to cover you up, exposing an amount of soft underboob that would have absolutely sent him into cardiac arrest had he seen you like this six months ago. as familiar as he is with your tits, though, matty wonders - as best as he can through the lack of oxygen in his brain - if that's actually hindering his ability to function properly; the sight of the fading heart-shaped hickeys he left on your inner boob last week is sending him even more insane, a reminder that this fucking goddess in a swimsuit before him is actually his to know and hold and love.

the room spins for a nanosecond. when it rights itself, matty feels the mattress below his back, sees your pretty face contorted in worry - when his brain retunes itself a bit more, he can hear you frantically talk. “matty, baby, are you alright? did you faint? oh my god, we need to get you some food. hold on, let me-”

“angel, m'okay,” matty strokes your face, smiling when you visibly relax. “just got a bit lightheaded, is all.”

“why, though, sweetheart?” you shuffle a little, and matty has a momentary flash of mortifying realisation that he's fully got a boner and you're sat square on his lap. in a bikini. fucking hell. “you thirsty?”

technically, yes. “nah.”

your brow furrows. “then why did you swoon like that?

matty giggles at your word choice. “well… same reason anyone swoons, i reckon.”

“what… oh,” your eyes light up, so much that it makes the mortification of the situation worth it. “you got woozy because you… find me so attractive?”

“um,” christ. his cheeks are burning. “yeah.”

your smile widens, and you nod knowingly. “it was my tits, wasn't it?”

he's not quite sure whether to be even more mortified, or touched that you know him so well. regardless, he thinks, he can at least be honest. “it was your tits.”

“d'you wanna fuck them, then?”

for the second time in just over as many minutes, the instinct to breathe completely abandons matty's body - the nonchalance of your question knocks the fucking wind out of him. it also, he notes in some stupid horny autopilot part of his brain, makes his dick practically jump in his shorts, and after a moment or two he becomes vaguely aware of the fact he's nodding in agreement.

he might be too horny to function, but he's not stupid.

you lean forward to kiss him, tracing your tongue around his lips and smiling into him when he whimpers. “let me lie down, babe, yeah?” you murmur. “actually - be a good boy and undo my top for me, first, please.”

the praise shocks matty into movement, and he dutifully unties the halter neck and back string of the bikini top. when the fabric falls off your body, he's barely chucked it out of the way before he's mouthing at your chest, kissing, sucking, biting, licking up the sweetness that seems to radiate from your skin, spurred on by the soft moans tumbling from your lips; by the time he pulls back, guided by your hand in his curls, your chest is glistening wet, and - it has to be said - ripe for fucking.

“god, i love your mouth,” you beam, climbing off your boyfriend with a kiss and lying down. matty takes the hint and moves to get rid of his shorts, getting even more turned on (impossibly so) at the way you bite your lip at the sight of his dick. “fuck, babe, get up here.”

he obliges, cracked whine leaving his lips when you sit forward and lick up the length of him; when you take him into your mouth, the whine becomes a groan, the feeling of your lips and tongue and throat on him almost too much to bear. “shit.”

matty whines again when you laugh around him, the vibrations going right to his brain and chipping away at his sanity. luckily, he thinks at least, you pull off quickly, settling yourself back against the pillows again and pushing your tits together so seductively his knees quake. “well, matthew, what are you waiting for?”

there's no need to ask twice. compelled by something indescribable other than primal, matty takes a tit in each hand to guide himself, and slowly fucks the tight little space between them. “oh- oh my god.”

you beam. “feel good?”

“s'fucking amazing,” a bit more used to the feeling (what would teenage him think if he knew that?!), he speeds up his thrusts, gasping when he finds the perfect tempo to turn his brain to mush. “fuck, darling, thank you.”

“sweet boy,” you coo, hand coming to hold his on your tit; you whimper when he squeezes it, and the sound goes straight to his dick. yeah, he's not lasting long at all. “look so beautiful above me, fucking me like this.”

“you're beautiful.”

“gonna look even better when you cum on my face,” you smirk, tongue flicking out to catch the head of your boyfriend's cock when it nears your lips. the feeling has matty's hips jerking, has him moaning staccato; when you take the head into your mouth properly and suck on it like a lollipop, his thighs start to shake, and he moans so loudly that you hear birds in the trees outside take off en masse. of course, you love it. “you're gonna do that for me soon, aren't you, darling? paint me all pretty, finish your masterpiece?”

he doesn't even have time to warn you that he's going to cum before it happens - as soon as the words leave your lips, matty's finishing all over them, hips stuttering to an eventual stop as he cries your name and cums harder than he thinks he ever has before. you moan his name in reply as he does, sticking your tongue out to catch as much as possible and doing him in even more in the process.

fuck. what a holiday this is turning out to be. and it's only day one.

the thought, along with everything else that just happened, has matty bringing his hands to his face, lightly pushing his palms over his eyes to try and focus a little bit. which, in hindsight, is a really detrimental move - he opens his eyes to see you, smiling and beautiful and covered with his cum, and he can feel his cock twitch. thankfully, you don't seem to notice, too busy gazing up at him so adoringly he's actually feeling self-conscious. “did you enjoy fucking me like that, baby?”

“yeah,” matty breathes. “dreamed about seeing you like this, you know, darling.”

you laugh, and everything is right in the world. “what, my face all messy because of you?”

“exactly,” he smiles. “there's a partner dream to it, and all.”

“there is?” you shuffle onto your elbows, curious. “what happens in that?”

matty hums, moving to settle himself on his stomach on the bed, pretty head inches from your visibly-wet core. “i make you do the same to me.”

[jayke0]

Bondage and BJs

Pairing: Jake Lockley x g/n reader

Summary: You grant Jake with a treat while he's tied to a chair.

Rating: nsfw, smut

Warnings/Content: Oral (m receiving), bondage/ropes, Dom!Reader, Sub!Jake, degrading, use of “whore”, edging, begging, orgasm denial, mention of Steven, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 1,410

A/n: This was inspired by this lovely art by @/halcyon1796 on X!

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading and editing ily.

………......................…………………………………….

“Colour?”

Jake blinks at you a few times, the words not registering for a few seconds.

“Green. Green, cariño…”

The poor man is practically bursting out of his jeans. Tight ropes bind him to the chair, his biceps bulging between the lines each time he clenches his fists. A light sheen covers his warm gold skin and runs the length of his chest all the way to his waistband, where his stomach is twitching with the lack of stimulation. Despite the compromising position, and the obligatory stain on his pants, a dark grin is stretched wide across his face, urging you to continue your game.

“Good,” you flash him a smile and pat his thigh as you shuffle closer to him on your knees. “Good boy.”

You're sure you see his ears prick up like a damn dog at the praise, the idea of it making you chuckle while you sit comfortably between his thighs and fiddle with his belt, looking up at him brazenly.

His smirk falters a little as you tease him, slowly unbuckling his belt and dragging the leather from the metal clasp with remarkable patience.

Jake wouldn't have it any other way. He loves it when you tease him, make him wait for you, it just makes him unbelievably harder. Sweat beads on his forehead and curls his hair, his thoughts completely enrapt with you.

Finally, you work open his pants, refraining from literally licking your lips as you gaze at his twitching length in the confines of his boxers. “Look at you, baby, twitching so much for me.” You tease with a smile as you run your finger along the length of his cock, getting a groan and a jump in response. “Lemme help you out a little.”

The adam's apple in his throat bobs as he swallows hard, eyes fixated on your hands and the way your thumbs hook under his boxer’s waistband to let his cock spring out. Cold air hits him and makes him gasp, biceps flexing again as he sucks his lip between his teeth to chew on.

“You're usually more talkative than this, Mr Jake Lockley; is someone lost for words?”

The man grumbles and looks at you with pleading eyes, ones that you're still yet to gain the strength to say no to, so you do as he silently pleads and wrap your fingers around his thick length.

The action makes an exasperated sigh escape from your boyfriend's lips, his nostrils flaring a little while your fingers squeeze him gently.

“Mi vida…” he mumbles softly, feeling each of your digits squeezing him. A bead of pre-cum spills from his tip in time for you to catch it on your tongue, pressing your tongue flat against the underside of his cock. The muscles in his stomach strain, making his length twitch as you tap it against your tongue and glare up at him through your lashes.

Pulling away, you let a string of saliva pour over his ruddy tip and stroke it over his length, relishing in the way he's already huffing and squirming under the bare minimum of your touch.

”Finally,” he breathes as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, enveloping the tip and appreciating the salty taste. You sit up, twisting your head slightly to the side before taking almost all of him in one go; needless to say, Jake's reaction is pure gold.

His head falls back with a loud wail, back arching off of the chair as his thighs try to squeeze together. To his displeasure, you're already one step ahead of him, hands placed firmly on his thick thighs to keep them parted as you pull off again.

“Jake, you're gonna be a good boy for me now, aren't you?”

He nods frantically, a whine rumbling in his throat.

“Promise?”

“Yes! Yes I promise. Please darlin’... I need ya, I need that mouth.”

The way he ruts his hips up should aggravate you, but it only makes you want him more.

Taking him about half way this time, you hum around his cock, feeling his thigh tense under your tight grasp while your other hand occupies itself with wrapping around the rest of his length; and he keeps his legs open, as per your command.

The twisting motion you start has proven to be greatly successful with your boyfriend in the past, and he never seems to get bored of it. You turn your head as you bob up and down on his length, your hand twisting in the opposite direction to create a delicious friction for the man. You're quick to stop his rutting with a glare through your eyelashes, not even having to pull off to make him whimper and stop his movements in his tracks.

He distracts himself by leaning his head back once more, and you watch all the muscles strain in his neck delightfully; it's such a wonderful sight seeing him like this.

“Damn cariño… shit. Love the way ya Suck my cock, ya always know what I like–.” He moans out, his hands now pawing at the ropes that are keeping him in place. “Wish I could just fuck that pretty mouth… make ya drool all over me...” His words are assertive, but his tone is far from it. You simply grin around him and start moving faster, taking him a little deeper each time.

His body is shaking at this point, already sensitive from the edging you'd put him through before even having taken his pants off. “Ah fuck!– Mi vida, I ain't gonna last– I gotta cum...”

You pull off. “What do you need to say?”

The man grumbles and thrusts his hips up.

“Watch it,” you dig your nails into his thigh, making him squirm and whimper quietly. “Want me to edge you again, baby? ‘Cause I will. I'll edge you for as long as it takes for you to stop being a desperate and disobedient whore.”

He buries his face in his shoulder for that one, looking away from you ashamed and flushed. Jake doesn't react the same to degrading as Steven does, his responses are usually more subtle, more embarrassed. Steven, on the other hand, will happily welcome degradation with a loud moan followed by a desperate whine; and Marc… well, you haven't gotten that far yet.

“I'm sorry, mi amor. Please let me cum, I've been so good for ya, waited so long.” Jake’s bottom lip sticks out just a little, something he'd picked up from Steven. “Please, cariño. I need ya…”

Once you're satisfied with his apology, you wrap your lips around him again as before and sink all the way down, enveloping him fully. You pull off just enough before starting a fast pace, feeling his cock twitch in your mouth and hearing his beautiful moans.

You're able to look up at him just enough to see him watching you, focusing on how your lips stretch and drool all over his cock. his eyes meet yours, and suddenly he's arching his back and twitching fiercely, warmth filling your mouth while his orgasm runs through his body like hot lava.

You feel his muscles almost instantly relax and his breathing slow, his cock already going soft in your mouth as you swallow what he'd spilled. “Good boy,” you smile up at him widely, “my handsome boyfriend.” Your words are genuine as you rest your head on his thigh, pressing soft kisses.

“Mhm… mi vida..” Jake is sleepy, and you can easily tell that by the big dopey grin on his face, the one he usually has when he's had a long day or you've pleased him.

Standing up, you place a kiss on his lips and forehead before moving behind him to untie his sore wrists, a soft inhale coming from him as he rubs his biceps.

“Sorry baby, but I had to really tie you down. You're like a fucking rhino sometimes,” you both chuckle softly at your observation before you lean over him to look at him. “You wanna go to sleep, huh?”

A simple nod from him tells you all you need to know.

...........................................................................

Tags 🖤: @boredzillenial @cowboymarcs @chichimisaki @faretheeoscar @fanofstuffidk @red-hydra @summonthesoups @ominoose @mynamesstevenwithav @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @midgardian-witch @minigirl87 @mooksmouse @justafandomgvrl @boredzillenial @eyelessfaces @silvernight-m @winniethewife @reallyrallyauthor @femmeanonymelives

[maryangelex]

Never Let Me Go (Pt.2)

John Price x f!Reader

Part 3

Summary: After meeting John, you couldn’t help but wish and long to see him again.

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, some suggestive/mature language

A/N: did I say I was gonna update in Wednesday?? That’s crazy, I don’t remember that at all!! Anyways…here ya go kids, it’s disgusting and fluffy and short!!! I promise there will be smutty deliciousness soon!!!

This chapter’s song is Little Bit by Lykke Li

The next day you woke up and headed to work, everything was the same as usual. Except now you felt you had something to look forward to. Or more like someone you looked forward to.

If he even showed up, you thought. You didn't fail to remind yourself to not get too excited, to set yourself up for failure, just so that you wouldn't disappoint yourself.

The rest of the day at the cafe you served the same familiar orders, smiled at the regular faces, and that feeling of sameness and dissatisfaction was gnawing at you like it did the night before.

Despite your best efforts at not eagerly hoping to see John again, you couldn’t help but have a little bit of optimism and anticipation that he would walk through the doors again.

But what you worried would happen happened, and you were disappointed. It crushed your spirits to have let yourself get excited just to later on be let down.

You felt like you were stood up. And that night you locked up the cafe after the closing shift, said goodnight to your cousin, and went back to your lonely little flat. To do things all over again the next day.

You were woken up by the rays of light that bled through your curtains. As your eyes slowly peeled open, you realized you had fallen asleep on your couch, wrapped up in the knitted blanket that you kept there. You mumbled something to yourself as you rubbed your eyes, then reached for your phone on the coffee table only to check the time.

When you realized you had overslept, you jumped awake and scrambled to your room. All you could think about was that your cousin was definitely overwhelmed and pulling her hair out having to run the cafe by herself. She had probably opened late, too, and was more than likely cursing your name through clenched teeth. All these thoughts ran through your head as you did your best to get ready in under twenty minutes.

The best you could do was take the briefest ice-cold shower to get your body going and throw on the most cohesive, monochrome outfit your frantic brain could compute. The moment you made it through your front door, you practically ran to the cafe, the heel of your boots clacked over the cobblestone.

You finally arrived at the coffee shop, bursting through the door with a string of apologies to your cousin and a clammy forehead beaded with sweat. You peeled your layers off, one by one, until you were only wearing your long-sleeve shirt and jeans, and tied the apron around. As you circled the counter to get your day started, you rambled on to your cousin, who was barely looking at you as she poured an effortless foam art into a large round mug.

"I'm so sorry, cuz, I have no idea how I managed to sleep in so much—" You were cut off by your cousin placing the cup in your hands. Her hands stilled over yours as you looked down confused, then up at her. Her face was beaming with a cheeky smile.

"He's here," she whispered, wide eyes and smirking face expressing pure joy.

You looked over to the rest of the shop, your eyes scanning the patrons who had their noses buried in books or cups of coffee to their lips. Almost immediately, though, your eyes fell right on a familiar figure.

John sat at an upholstered chair in a far corner of the cafe, right by the large window with the sun’s glare casting over him, warming and softening the angles of his face. He was clad in a dark green sweater today, an arm crossed over his abdomen as he reclined into the chair with the book you gave him in his other hand. He was at its last few pages. His expression was that of concentration, with knitted brows and a light pout.

You marveled at him, your heart stopping in its track when you caught sight of him. But you turned back to your cousin with feigned aloofness.

“Well, he lives nearby apparently so it’s no surprise—“ she cut you off again.

“He asked for you, cuz,” your cousin’s eyes pierced through you, her face turning stern. “He walked in today and immediately asked for you. He’s been sitting there waiting.”

Your lips pressed tightly into a line. He was waiting for you?

Your cousin’s hold over your hands strengthened as she pushed you to move, to go approach him.

“Take this to him, cuz,” her tone was a mix of a plea and a command. “He seems like he really likes you…do this for yourself, you deserve it.”

You gave her a long look, her wide eyes were practically begging you to follow her advice. Maybe she was right. It had been a long time since you liked someone, since you let yourself let someone into your life. Maybe you did deserve to allow yourself to open up and enjoy yourself with someone.

Her hands let go of yours, giving you a smile as if she read your mind.

”Go sit with him, I’ve got it,” were her last softly spoken words before she sent you off.

You let out a deep sigh and gave her a light smile, shaking your head as if thinking ‘I can’t believe I’m listening to your love advice’, and made your way over to John. You picked up a pastry on your way over to him, on the house.

John looked up from the book as soon as he saw your figure approaching him. His face lit up, kindness shining from it. He immediately got up from his seat and reached out to help you.

At that moment you noticed that John had a thing for helping, for being of service; he couldn’t stand and watch someone else do something for him, he was the type of man that preferred to take care of others and do things for others.

“Thank you, love, I’ve got it,” he said softly with a smile as he took the plates for you and set it down on the small table in front of his chair.

You thanked him and stood beside the chair across from his, hesitant to fully sit and commit to chatting with him.

John mirrored you, standing up parallel to you as if waiting for you to sit first. Quite the gentleman. And because of that you couldn’t let the man stand like a guard, so you caved and sat down. Of course, he followed you.

You sat there for a moment and collected your thoughts before asking, “So you’ve finished the book?”

“I did, actually,” he smiled at you, his eyes locked into yours, and they’d stay there from this moment on.

“I quite liked it.” He chuckled a bit, “But it was tough to read at times so I took all of yesterday to get through it.”

So that’s why he didn’t come, you thought, he was too busy actually putting effort into reading the book you gave him.

That thought made a smirk pull at your lips.

“Thought you said you’d come for help reading!” You said slyly, and he let out another chuckle at that. You loved the feeling you got when you amused him.

“ ‘M sorry, love, didn’t want to trouble you much,” he confessed taking a sip from the cup of coffee. His words confirmed your thoughts.

He pressed his lips at the taste of the coffee. Too bitter, you noted he liked things sweet last time. And he reached for the sugar to amend his drink.

The man in front of you was a delight to watch.

“You like sweet things?” You asked, hardly noticing the fact you had spoken up.

“It’s a vice, truly, worse than smokin’ for me.” He said with a nod as he tasted it again. “We don’t get a lot of sweetness at work.”

You chuckled. “Well you should give that a try…” you gestured to the pastry you brought him, “I, erm, make them m’self.”

A light blush scattered over your cheeks as the man smiled cheekily, reaching over to take the pastry.

“I already know it’ll be good if y’made it, doll,” he quipped before taking a bite. John let out a slow hum as he chewed the bite. You’d be lying if you said your mind didn’t wonder to the dirtiest of places when you heard that sound emanate from him—you wouldn’t mind hearing more of that, really.

“Bloody good, love, fuckin’ hell,” the man sounded like it was the best thing he’d tasted, proceeding to devour the treat. You bit your lip to suppress a growing smile.

“Now you have a reason to keep coming, John,” your own words surprised you, not knowing you had the confidence to make such a comment. You practically just confessed to him that you wanted him to continue coming.

“Oh I already had a very good reason to keep comin’, doll,” his tone was flirty, and his eyes burnt through you. Did they somehow get bluer? You felt the sting of your cheeks at his comment.

You stayed there talking with John for about an hour, occasionally glancing back at your cousin to check on her. Each time she’d give you a thumbs up and a shooing motion with her hand. The store was relatively empty, so there wasn’t much need for an extra hand.

Instead, you got to spend time talking to John. You asked him about his work in the military, but he told you there wasn’t much he could say that made for good conversation. You didn’t mind, you simply cared more about getting to know the man in front of you as a person and not as much for what he did.

But he told you about the places he’d been to because of his profession, about his friends in the service and their off-duty escapades, and about his family in Herefordshire. He told you he has a dog back home, and your dog-loving self couldn’t be contained when he showed you the picture of him on his phone screen. It made him laugh how giddy you got and how your voice rose a couple octaves in excitement.

You asked him about his favorite book, he said The Wind Also Rises. And when you asked what music he listens to, he gave you a whole Spotify playlist which required him exchanging numbers with you.

By now the coffee in his cup was long gone, and a second hour had passed. Your cheeks were sore from smiling and laughing the whole time. He wouldn’t let the smile drop from your face by hitting you continuously with a mix of the cheesiest pick-up lines and the worst dad-jokes you’ve had the misfortune of hearing.

And the fact that you made him smile and laugh too made a fire kindle in your chest. It surged a warm sensation and made you feel a sense of home that you didn’t know could be brought up in you by a person.

John’s deep blue eyes were glued to you, taking you in like you were the only person in the world. And you couldn’t look away either, as if memorizing every line of his face and every pore, wrinkle, or blemish on his skin.

He leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees to actively listen to you as you told him where you were originally from, how you got to co-own this place with your cousin, and how the two of you had made a business you were properly proud of. He listened with wholeheartedness and admiration, as if taking mental notes of everything you said to him, storing the information as gold coins in a treasure chest.

A third hour passed. Your mad ran dry with how much you had been talking to John. The two of you were now in a brief but pleasant silence as you took each other in.

“I really enjoy your company, love,” he broke the silence, his voice soft and earnest.

“I do too, John.”

“I’ve got to go but erm..” he inhaled, “I’d like to maybe take you out sometime.” He let out the breath he was holding, a grin on his face and a gentleness in his eyes.

“I’d like that a lot, actually,” you responded, making his face brighten even more and he gave you a pleased hum.

“ ‘M glad t’hear that,” his eyes raked over you then found their way back to yours. He looked at you for a moment before standing up to leave.

You stood with him, telling him you’d accompany him to the outside as you exchanged a few last comments.

You stood outside the shop with him on the street as he fixed his jacket back on as well as his beanie.

“So tomorrow at 8?” He asked.

“Mhm, I’ll be there,” you stood in front of him, craning your neck slightly to make eye contact with him.

He moved closer to you, standing just inches from you. You were reminded of his large stature compared to yours. His presence felt protective and warm in front of you, the cold weather felt like nothing thanks to the heat his body radiated to you.

John’s hand reached up to you, his index finger tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, with his gaze not daring to break away from yours. “I’ll see you then, love.”

The gesture made your whole body melt. You could hardly find any words to say in response. The most you could muster was a gulp and a shaky nod of your beer red head.

“See you, John,” you said, almost a whisper. And with that, he turned on his heels and went on his way. You watched him disappear down the street before heading back in.

You felt like you were in shock. Like you needed someone to pinch you awake or pull you back down to earth from heaven. Your heart couldn’t beat any faster.

It felt like every goodbye between the two of you was a door opening into another hello.

Like the void of loneliness that was opened in you that day was slowly getting filled by the warmth and comfort of John’s presence every time you got to see him.

And you couldn’t be happier about there being a third hello just a day away.

[mothswitheyes]

I think Riz can actually use magic and the magical gear is all bells and whistles. In a party of so many casters, literally ALL of them have magic now, I think he feels a lot more disconnected from the 'magic' then the rest of them, where it feels very connected to things like faith and art and being the oracle.

Magic is just something he does, he uses, like he uses his sword and his gun and his hands, it's a tool, it's a method to getting a job done, but thinking "I can spellcast" while everyone has this Big Reason for being able to do it is difficult, illogical, so it's easier to conceptualize it as ACTUALLY a tool, a bracer and a necktie and glasses and beaded bracelets, and not just verbal, somatic, material.

When he casts compelled duel on Kalina, he explicitly uses Nothing to do it, he says he calls upon his connection to Kalina since his birth but that still inherently is magic, he casts a magic spell with nothing but pure will, and it works! There is never a question about it working! Both because the items are inherently flavoring, they don't, on paper, actually exist, and because Riz has magic.

I don't think this is something that'd ever really come up or be canonized, as it just seems to be an off-topic thing for Riz's arc right now, but I think the idea adds to Riz's personality, and it the natural, funny conclusion to "I HAVE to wear it, it's just so practical."

[katze-thief]

five days for love confession

pairing: Ren Amamiya/Akira Kurusu x fem!reader

summary: Shujin Academy is holding its annual cultural festival, and it seems that five days of preparation is all it takes to make your crush fall in love with you.

chapter one: prologue

"five days for love confession" series' masterlist

It was a fact that Ren Amamiya did not have the best reputation at Shujin Academy.

Of course, this was due to his criminal record status, but it was more about the implications of it. He couldn’t say anything when a student treated him badly, or delivered lies in form of hot gossips around the student body. Ren heard it all — that, supposedly, he carried a knife around, that he committed audacious crimes frequently and even more. All lies, surely, however, due to the student body being formed of high-profile students, a single complain about his conduct towards other student could mean the end of probation for him. For the worse.

Because of his reputation (and uttermost lack of capacity of deniability), teachers felt that they could basically use Ren as a fix-it man in the organization of Shujin’s events. After all, why bother convincing students to participate and form a minimum quorum, if you can just place the same one? And it wasn’t different with the annual cultural festival of Shujin’s Academy. When he squished himself in between of the crowd of students to see the lists, his name was in almost every single one. Shocking news.

At the end of that evening, Ren, the rest of the Phantom Thieves, and you, were reunited at the attic of LeBlanc, a.k.a. Ren’s bedroom. After you all ate cookies, cake and drank coffee downstairs, now you were trying to figure out in which activities each one was, to assure he wouldn’t go through this utterly traumatizing experience of being at Shujin all day alone (as in the words of Ryuji). The cozy smell of coffee embalmed the place, as well as the woody scent, both so familiar for you.

“I’m in the dancing and musical arts’ front, doing ‘Legally Blonde’” Ann chuckled. She was sitting beside Makoto on the floor, as they made matching bracelets with beads. “It’s the first time Shujin does musicals, right?”

Makoto nodded, reorganizing the beads. “I’m responsible for the festival’s haunted house. Indeed, we only have me, the student council and Ren at this one.” Ren winced at the reminder of work. “You all should subscribe for this one. It’s still open.” She said, stern.

You played chess with Ren on the other side of the bedroom, while they talked and scribbled on paper. Both of you were sitting on his bed, as the checkered board stood on a pillow. Ren didn’t want them to take on more work just for his wellbeing, in fact, he made it clear that was against this whole commotion on LeBlanc. You, however, already expected the school counsellor to put him in every activity, so you secretly sent him a letter asking to be in the same activities as Ren, so he wouldn’t be alone (which may or may not be because of your, also secret, crush for him).

Ren moved the bishop and grinned “Checkmate.”

“How?” you said surprised, not even paying attention to the entire mess of a discussion that your friends were having over the schedule.

The fact was that Ren was terribly bad at chess, at least in comparison to you. He never win, so it was a small joke in between you two ever since you met. It was always the ‘It’ll probably happen when you win me on chess’ for impossible things. However, today’s Earth decided to debunk your saying.

Ren adjusted his glasses, proudly, and redid the sequence of movements of the game, but you could only notice the flicker of his bright eyes, how his wavy hair moved as he explained his thought behind his actions with his throaty voice and—

“Guys!” Ryuji yelled, which made all of you stop and stare at him. He was holding a sheet of paper, one from the pile of lists’ copies, and in his face was the pure look of horror. “I’m gonna cook curry. Cook curry. Wha’ the f-??”

“Let me guess, that’s another one for Ren too?” Yusuke joked, making everyone (except Ren) laugh.

“At least is one thing he actually can cook.” Morgana added, intensifying the laughs.

After that, everyone chatted for a while, before going away. You knew all of them were the Phantom Thieves, so when they stood up to leave, scary looking at the clock, you got it why too. The ‘We need to rest to enter another palace this weekend’ was always there, implicit, even though they didn’t share their plans as thieves with you. It was like those unreachable places in the dreams — you knew the Metaverse existed and knew that your friends frequented it and was behind all those events on the news, but it wasn’t tangible for you. You could never experience it with them, see by yourself. And in those times, you felt less of a part of the group than them.

On the ride home, as you reminisced the memories from the day, you almost gagged when you remembered what you did. “I’m going to work endlessly all week, all day, at Shujin, because of a boy??” you thought to yourself. And oddly, that thought didn’t even scare you.

Because it was Ren Amamiya the boy you were going to spend the longest week of your junior year of high school with.

[indignantlemur]

Larger image (STRONGLY recommended): HERE The resolution on this is painful, so I'm including detail shots below the cut.

This meeting room was furnished many centuries ago by a renowned artisan who could carve stone and shells in stunning detail, and could shape and colour glass in a way that was never seen before and has never been replicated since. He took the secrets of his techniques to the grave, dying at an unexpectedly young age in a duel with a public safety official over the seizure of a rare and extremely toxic pigment imported from a Clan to the far south. His name was Kelenthor, and he was the only Clanless to ever attain such a high level of renown and fortune purely on his artistic talent. He lived during what would eventually be called the Post-Unification Andorian Renaissance. While this artisan was alive, he had a somewhat adversarial relationship with various officials and was known to use his art as a medium to mock and criticize his social betters. He was beloved by the general populace for exclusively taking on students from the lower social classes - almost as much as he was resented by the upper classes for his habit of hiding subversive messages in his commissioned works. Regardless of where one stood with Kelenthor, none could deny his talents. If you wanted the best of the best, Kelenthor was the one to commission. As such, he was eventually commissioned to design and create furnishings for a number of rooms and even entire buildings which are now used exclusively by government officials today or otherwise preserved as precious cultural works.

This particular room is widely regarded as his best work: the walls are conspicuously and almost insultingly plain, barely carved at all. At the centre of the room lies a heavy and imposing table of solid marbled stone - also barely ornamented, save some bevelling along the edges. The surface was treated with a substance which renders the stone almost entirely impervious to damage. No matter how one might rain blows upon it, barely a scratch remains to remember them by - much like many of the politicians who have sat at this table since its creation, which many believe was the subversive message behind the thing in the first place.

The focal points are the throne-like seats arrayed around the blunt instrument of a marble table, intricately carved and inlaid with precious shell and glasswork, iridescent and shining under even the faintest rays of light. Each scatters prisms randomly around the room, illuminating the shadows and often causing quite a few headaches when meetings stretch too long. More importantly, every single one of them was deliberately carved to be as uncomfortable as possible. No one in a position of power, Kelenthor once said, should be comfortable there.

First up, courting and wedding bands! Shral and Dagmar are only courting, so they have simple rings with minimal ornamentation, with Dagmar's being modified to fit as a cuff earring.

Thoris is married, so he has two bands on each antennae. Quite often marriage bands are more decorative and ostentatious than his, but Thoris isn't one for baubles and it's bad enough he has to wear these ridiculous robes. Frankly, if he could get away with just wearing his old Guardsman uniform to these meetings, he'd vastly prefer to. As such, his wedding bands are almost incongruously plain for his rank and status.

Next up, the lady and gentleman in the foreground! These two are Ministers, and high-ranking Andorians besides, so they ornament themselves rather loudly in comparison to our main cast's more sedate preferences. The lady on the left is Minister Zaathi, who we will be meeting in-fic very soon, and she's very fond of gemstones and carved hair beads - and not afraid of losing any, if she sheer number she's wearing are any indications. It's a weighted fashion statement, if nothing else, from a woman whose home province is small and relatively modest otherwise.

By comparison, Minister Bhael - on the right - is much more conservative in his ornamentation, but his robes are heavily embroidered and that is quite a lot of Andorian silk to be toting around. A closer look will reveal that his sleeves are embroidered with an ocean wave pattern, which is particularly interesting given the relationship Andorians have with the sea. Is it some kind of political statement, or just an odd choice of attire?

If those two are making statements with their sartorial choices, then Thoris has them all beat for layered meanings.

The silvery outer robes of office are closer to a cloak than a robe, with an inner layer that is belted around the waist and a loose outer layer that is joined to the inner layer at the shoulders and seams along the upper arms. This permits the maximum range of movement for the wearer. Being made of Andorian silk, which is several times stronger than Terran silk, it is an excellent means of protection against slashing and stabbing weapons. Despite their merits, however, Thoris loathes them. They're lightweight, sure, but they're still long and ostentatious and entirely too liable to get caught on something in a real fight. Sadly, they're also mandatory, or he'd have binned them ages ago.

The vibrant blue mid-layer is a heavy material, durable Andorian silk woven through with tiny filaments of something very similar to a carbon fibre composite, providing a measure of protection against many forms of projectiles, though less so against phase weapons. The innermost tunic is more obviously armoured than the other two layers, with panels mimicking an extensive chitin pattern along the length of the torso and forearms. The sleeves in particular draw attention to a very vibrant yellow flash - much like the chitin of the predatory veeg he is known for hunting in the past.

Next we come to Shral, who is obscured partially by shadow at Ambassador Thoris' right hand - and ready to draw his ushaan-tor at a moment's notice.

This is not standard armour for an Andorian, but rather something one might wear while sparring or training in their personal time. The armour takes the form of layered, almost beetle-shell like layers, layered over a long, cowl-necked tunic. The cowl is an unusual choice for sparring attire, as it provides a potential hand-hold for an opponent - only a very arrogant or a very skilled duelist would wear such a thing while sparring.

In contrast, Dagmar stands in the light on Thoris' left. Her working attire is lightly embroidered, and features large, pearly buttons - but otherwise she's almost conspicuously plainly dressed. Hyper aware of how shockingly pink she is in comparison to everyone else in the room, Dagmar wears muted and neutral colours to try to off-set how glaringly alien she is - which, ironically, only serves to highlight her differences even further.

@the-lady-general  @starrynightgardens  @emilie786  @horta-in-charge  @emochook  @velvet-luvie  @creature-of-the-stars @unknownfacelessfanfictions @auroramagpie

[brainrotbabe24]

OH MY DAYSSS CAN YOU DO THORINS COMPANY AND THE COURTING GIFT THEY'D MAKE FOR THEIR PARTNER???

Okay thanks love MWUAH MWUAH😙😙😙

Hi, omg, so I love this!!! I had so many ideas and I kinda rambled on and on lol! I also wrote a lot so i have to split this up into two part...I'm sorry 😭 Thank you for this request 💖💖

Courting Gifts: Part 1

Balin: Balin seems like the type of dwarf who would want to repurpose something as a courting gift. He wants to show off his skills, craftsmanship, and hard work to give you the best gift. Since falling in love with you he knew he needed to court you with the best he had. So, he would take his favorite belt buckle, the one he wore on his journey back to Erebor, and use that as his raw material. He would spend days in the forge crafting the most beautiful necklace. He beams with pride each time he sees you with it on your neck. 

Dwalin: This idea was inspired by the art book. Dwalin is not known for his words of affirmation or his romantic gestures. As a hardened warrior, his greatest skill is wielding his weapon. Because of this, he wants to give you something that he finds useful and demonstrates his strengths and values. Dwalin would court you with matching axes. He would spend weeks to months meticulously forging these beautiful axes, ensuring that yours was engraved with his name and his was engraved with yours. He would see this as a secret connection, thinking you are always looking out for him. You might even be able to catch him tracing his fingers over your name.

Óin: Oin would gift you a beautifully carved wooden box filled with herbs and other healing remedies. He would handpick each one to ensure that what he selected was the best option. The box would be intricately designed, maybe even with runes for protection. I feel like once he gave it to you, he would go over how to use each herb and even offer to prepare the remedies together so you felt confident using them.

Side note: I couldn't find a GIF of what I was thinking, but this was a cool idea of possibly the type of box he gave you, lol

Glóin: After reading the art book and seeing a whole bunch of people online saying braiding is a dwarf courting tradition, I would have to go with that. Gloin is a traditional dwarf who deeply values connection, heritage, and commitment. So, of course, hair braiding is how he courts you. It's a very personal event between you two. He wants to keep it sacred and sees it as a way to strengthen your bond. His family might use specific beads or braiding styles unique to their lineage. So, when he uses a particular style, it helps him preserve his heritage and family legacy. Gloin sees braiding as a way to express his devotion to you. It's a way for him to show his commitment to standing by your side, caring for you, and always loving you.

Bifur: Bifur is known for his skill in toy making. So his courting gift would be creating a wind-up dancing toy for you...like a jewelry box ballerina. He was captivated by the way you danced at Bilbo's house while the company played their song "That's What Bilbo Baggins Hates." The grace in your movements, the confidence you exuded, and your bright smile..oh, it melted him. He was smitten and regretted not having danced with you that night. Bifur designs a mechanical toy with the two of you dancing to recreate that moment of pure joy. When wound up, the toy plays the song from that evening, capturing his happiness. 

Bofur: He immediately fell for you and wanted to give you something meaningful but also unique. He spent a lot of time thinking about the perfect gift, enlisting both Bifur and Bombur to help bring the idea to life. He decided on a love spoon—a carved wooden spoon with beautiful intricate designs that symbolize his intention of courting you. He would spend hours whittling, going back to the drawing board, and making multiple versions until it was perfect. This wasn't just a gift; it was a labor of love that took time and effort to create. By offering you this love spoon, he's not just asking you to be with him but asking you to be a part of his family.

Bombur: He would be hesitant at first to court you, unsure how you would react to his gift. He didn't buy you something expensive or offer a family heirloom. Instead, Bombur, knowing that the way to someone's heart is through their stomach, decided to make you a plethora of cookies. You'd be shocked to come home and find your kitchen counter filled with boxes of different types. Each type would represent a meaningful aspect of your life together. One box in particular stands out to you. It would have moon and star-shaped cookies, symbolizing his vast love for you…A love beyond comprehension.

[justmossyall]

depression hacks masterpost

these are things that will help with mental illness that aren't 'go outside, drink water, and everything will be fine!!!1!!!11!1!11!' those are good fs but they don't work on their own. these will actually help in one way or another :)

hell yeah let's go

open your windows. the fresh air and sunlight will do you good and it takes like 5 seconds.

go buy some plants, there are like a gazillion that are next to impossible to kill. and don't come at me with 'ohhh I'll probably find a way hahaha" NO. the plants will be so helpful! they produce oxygen, bring nature indoors which psychologically improves your mental state, and they're just nice to look at! you can name them! sculpt and/or paint little pots for them!

STOP LISTENING TO SAD MUSIC. I cannot stress this enough. it just makes things worse. please stop. make a playlist of all your favorite stupid, happy, pump-up songs and listen to them all the time until they get annoying. then repeat!

acquire a gazillion stuffed animals. so much serotonin for such a small price

get a water bottle and put fun stickers on it, and designate that water bottle to be only for water. nothing else goes in it. that way you can drink out of it for kind of a long time before needing to wash it. keep it filled with water and actually drink out of it. drink as much water as you can, all the time.

chew gum! idk why but it works bro. especially watermelon.

hug people and ask people to hug you. hugs are so amazing it's like pure happiness but with the added perk of Deep Pressure. it can be from your friends, family, s/o, whoever.

make sure there's a lot of light in your room. not good to wallow in darkness. put up fairy lights, get fun lamps, light candles, keep your blinds open, etc.

dress like how you want to feel. be colorful, fun, and comfortable. don't wear hoodies, sweatpants and ratty old shoes, I know it's appealing but it's just going to keep you in that depressed state. I like to wear dresses, colorful jeans, graphic tees from 5-Below, combat boots, and lots of funky earrings. (seriously 5-Below is a lifesaver for literally anything!!!) you can get a lot of these things for super cheap - I got a 20 pack of fun earrings like duckies, mushrooms, mini water bottles, etc. for like $11, and a lot of my colorful jeans are like 6 bucks at the thrift store. whatever your style is or whatever you want it to be, work to make that happen. because getting dressed is one of the simplest things you'll do in a day, so why not make the most of it?

doodle. it's fun and simple, and it'll give your hands something to do other than pick at your skin if you do that kind of stuff (see below).

on a similar note, make art!!!!! it doesn't have to be good!!!!!! just make art all the time, as often as you can. write crappy fanfiction. make friendship bracelets. sculpt a funky lil cat. draw your comfort characters. art is so healing and it will do wonders for you. even just like run your hands through a giant bag of beads like I do :P

get fidgets and bring them everywhere with you. this is more of an anxiety/stimming thing for me but I pick at my fingers, lips, pimples, eyebrows, etc., and it hurts a lot and will probably leave scars. fidgets are just amazing. I'm partial to tangles and infinity cubes :) gum and chewelry are good for this as well (for when I bite my fingers/clothes or chew the skin off my lips)

if you find yourself with a whole day with nothing to do and you don't have the energy to get up and do anything, go to the park. bring a blanket, some snacks, and headphones, and just lay there and listen to music. sleep. watch youtube. literally anything you would normally do when you don't have energy, except it's outside in the sun and grass and nature around other people who are doing the same thing! 10/10

get a pet if you can. even just fish, but really a fluffy, snuggly animal is probably best such as a dog or cat. OH MY GOD THEY HELP SO MUCH. ANIMALS ARE MAGIC. I don't think I've ever been sad while holding or petting my grandma's dog. (our family doesn't have one right now lol)

spray perfume/body spray on you. faster and easier than deodorant and it usually smells better

if you're gonna scroll, scroll pinterest. honestly, it's probably best to get rid of things like tiktok and snapchat, but that's kinda unrealistic for most people so I get it <3 pinterest is probably gonna be better than other social media cause it's more creative?? if you know what I mean?? and usually it's reading things and not mindlessly watching videos

if you don't have the energy to do stuff with your hair, put it up in a bun! fast simple and easy. takes like 5 seconds, even for someone with super thick curly hair like me. (or cut it short! but most of us aren't brave enough to do that lol)

eat fruit. sweet and comforting, but healthy!! so much better for you than junk food, and honestly it tastes better most of the time too. I recommend strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, watermelon, and cantaloupe. easy to take with you on the go and sooooo good <333

play calming video games such as animal crossing, minecraft, stardew valley, cats with soup (if you're into mobile games), etc. puzzle games are good too! if you want something more combat-y, I would recommend the zelda games or forager. still chill and mellow but has more combat and story/lore

garden if you can. I know this kind of ties in with having plants in your room, but if you're able and you have the energy, keep a flower and/or vegetable garden. there's something so beautiful in putting your hands in the warm dirt, smelling your freshly-planted flowers, eating sun-infused vegetables that taste infinitely better than store-bought. it's so nice, but I know it's not for everyone so don't worry about it if you don't get around to it <3

sleep in the bus/car on the way to school if you're tired. not a perfect solution but better than falling asleep in class

inhale through your nose, not your mouth. it's better for your lungs and you'll get better air quality that way. it also helps calm you better than mouth breathing, and you can't exactly smell the fresh air through your mouth :P

read. sit down and read a book. carry one with you wherever you go. spend a weekend day in the library with a huge stack of books just reading. it's so calming and helps stimulate your brain. doesn't matter what you read as long as it's making you happy :)

surround yourself with color, not dark drab colors. hang up art and posters on your walls, get bright blankets and pillows, lay out a tiny lil carpet, make bead curtains and string them up on your curtain rod, set out little figurines/sculptures around your room. put color and life everywhere around you, and that will start to seep into your soul.

tea is always good. or if you don't like tea, hot water with lemon juice and honey. basically the same :)

if you ever just don't want to do something, like you just absolutely don't want to get up and do _ thing, think about future you. would they be like "bro thanks so much you really helped me out there" if you did the thing? if yes, then do it, no matter how impossible it seems. you'll thank yourself later.

a statement that is near and dear to my heart: if you feel like everyone hates you, sleep. if you feel like you hate everyone, eat. if you feel like you hate yourself, shower.

NO MORE SU!C!DE JOKES. ever. the end! replace "i'm literally gonna kms" jokes or anything along those lines with "i'm literally gonna flop to the floor" or "i'm literally gonna go ham bananas on this place" or whatever wild bullshit pops into your brain.

watch studio ghibli movies. the most amazing things to ever exist. I have never felt sad while watching a ghibli movie. they are basically the definition of peace.

take a bubble bath!!!!! :D

making your bed helps for some reason??? why, I have no idea. but it does bro

get excited about things. smile when you hear your favorite song. hug your amazon package when it comes in. count down the days until a holiday. laugh with joy when you have an amazing day. it makes things so much better.

an important addition: bring snacks everywhere

that's all for now, lmk if you have anything else to add!!! love you guys, I promise it gets better <3

[atombonniebaby]

Woo I actually have a WIP for WIP Wednesday and some art! 🙌

(I don't have the spoons to tag... mutual creatives... do your thing! ❤)

I got caught up playing again...but finally getting some more words out and this whole chapter was one I was dreading because I didn't know how I wanted it to pan out... I'm happy with it... it's just pure carnage and nothing going to plan!

Inspired by that one time we went to the Glowing sea and got our asses handed to us by 12 ferals, 7 Radscorpians and a Deathclaw...

I imagine this is Nate's battle track 🙌

"Fuck!" Nate's heart jumps into his throat, the familiar feeling of his stomach plummeting as the ground crumbles beneath them. The earth spins below him, tilting this way and that. His knees buckle and catches the horror in Danse's eyes, the glint of steel armour as he lands on his ass, the impact jarring his spine and rattling his bones.

In their distraction they missed the signs, the click of claws digging into the dirt, the shift in the shadows. They'd been so focused on the threat in front of them that they didn't notice the ones below.

A rad scorpion rears up, it's tail raised high and poised to strike, it's segmented body suspended over the hole with its legs braced on either side.

The stinger whips forward, the barbed tip piercing straight through the soft spot between the chest piece and pelvis plate. Nate holds his gasp, beaded eyes meet his, clicking mandibles and long protruding jaws.

Time slows. There's no pain, there's no sting. The poison has already started working, numbing his body and muddling his mind.

The sounds of laser fire and shouting are drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears, by the throbbing of his heart, by his own panicked gasping.

Two more scorpions join the fold, together, Danse and MacCready fight them back. But they won't see. The forth scorpion. It's crawling over him. It's right above him. Tail... Stinger... Pointed right between his eyes.

No! NO!

The tip punctures through the glass shielding him from the toxic air. Cracks spider web out from the point of impact. A second strike lands, and then a third.

Nate panics. He can't breathe, gasping in lungfuls of irradiated air as Amari's words pulse in his ears: "...enough radiation to kill a man in seconds".

[v3nusxsky]

Hi again, sorry hahaha, but I suddenly got this idea.

May I request for a Larissa Weems x Dance Professor/Instructor Reader. Larissa needed Reader for something so she went to Reader's studio in the school. There she found Reader dancing. I like to think Reader's somewhat of a hiphop type of dancer so baggy clothes, sweatpants, and big sensual movements at times. Larissa just watched for a while then when Reader was close to finishing their dance they took off their top due to being into the music, leaving them with a sports bra or something. Basically just Larissa thirsting over Reader habshsha thank u vv much im sorry if its a bit confusing.

I hope you're well!! <33

-🦝

Rhythm is a dancer| fluff

*Authors note~ I absolutely adore this idea and I love dance but I cannot do it due to my condition so this gave me that feeling back. Music is truly magical*

Trigger warnings~ Larissa being thirsty af for r

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣

Teaching at Nevermore was nothing short of a dream. The students adored you and you loved the state of the art dance study that you spent most of your time in. Dance was your passion and way of expression, so it was only natural that you'd have a favourite style. Despite how feminine you liked to present outside of the studio, when working or dancing you opted for joggers, Nike trainers, sports bra and a over sized jacket that often sat over an oversized shirt.

Recently, you'd been frustrated with your blossoming feelings for your boss, so that meant you  spent more time in the studio choreographing routines, working out, preparing class routines. One of your favourite things about the studio was your floor length mirrors that gave you a better look at your movements from different angles. They were there but easily tuned out when you got caught up in the music.

Larissa was curious when she heard music coming from the dance studio. It was rather late for you to still be working, and the music in question wasn't suitable for what you were teaching at the moment. She knew you were teaching lyrical and contemporary pieces, hip hop and partner dances where for later on in the school year, after you'd gotten a sense of the student's abilities. So it was very unusual for her to hear Reggae music coming from the studio, a song with rather interesting lyrics. She quickly made her way to the studio to peak round the doorway, catching a glimpse of you in the mirrors. Truly, she began to thank herself for adding those to the studio.

You were stunning, the way you moved with the music, as if you and the music where one. It was clear the style was hip hop due to the bigger movements, style of dress and even the slightly sensual movements. The dancing causing you to get warm but knowing the routine was no where near finished you removed your jacket and shirt as if it was always planned to happen, as if it was the next step in the routine. It was flawless.

Larissa would be lying if she said she wasn't absolutely star struck by your movements. The way you rolled your hips ad the way you had this most adorable blissed out look on your face. Your breathing fast as you continued to walk through the routine. Truly, Larissa would be lying if she tried to protest her feelings and thoughts were pure. You were there, rolling your hips, joggers slipping down your hips ever so slightly exposing the band of your underwear and your sports bra providing skin for Larissa to ogle.

Beads of sweat little your body and Larissa had to fight the urge to come and kiss them away. A taste that was unexplainably you. She watched as the music died out, and your movements slowed to stopping. Your breathing racing along as you sucked in greedy gasps of air before bringing your hand up to wipe your forehead. You made your way to your water bottle taking some greedy swigs. Larissa took that as her cue to leave before you spotted her watching you, well drooling over you. The last thing she wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable by your boss thirsting after you.

Larissa's took herself back off to her chambers, retiring for the night. A quick shower and she was in her bed, mind still replaying that dance over and over again. The ache between her thighs growing every time she replayed the memory. With a sigh in frustration she reached over to her bedside draw to grab something that would help. Only then did she relieve her ache that you'd unknowingly caused as she imagined you working diligently between her thighs. Maybe one day it would be more than a thought, but for now she had the memory of your dance, the way your muscles rippled in the movement, how you'd look so sinfully delicious in casual clothes. That was enough for now.

Word count ~ 842

[thrawns-babygirl]

Sensations (Thrawn x F!Reader)

Okay ya'll the moment I saw Morgan Elsbeth in Ahsoka and she said she was a witch of Dathomir my brain immediately was like "Alright crazy hot magical witch sex with Thrawn" and then I had to write something for it. This has no spoilers for Ahsoka in it obviously lol, its pure filth. So please, enjoy :)

Reader is a Nightsister of Dathomir, just ignore why a nightsister is on the ISD Chimaera and enjoy the smut. Okay? Okay.

Ratings: E (18+)

Warnings: Oral (F!Receiving), Magicks, Edging, Sub!Thrawn (Kinda?), Unprotected PiV, Creampie,

Word count: 2100+

Masterlist

He wasn’t entirely sure where it all began. The lingering touches, the heated eye contact that would last far longer than either of you could consider professional. All that Grand Admiral Thrawn does know is that he is very happy with where it all ended.

You’re seated on the end of the bed as he walks into his quarters, a breach of protocol for sure, but he’s never been too fussed with strict imperial procedure. You have a regal air about you, seated naked on the soft sheets, thin whisps of green energy slithering around your fingers as you lock eyes with him, a challenge, an invitation. One that he is all too eager to accept.

The crisp, white uniform is quickly shed, folded, and placed neatly on his desk until he too is naked, his cock already half hard with the knowledge of what’s to come. His eyes track your form as you stand and stalk over to him, your poise is captivating, your footsteps silent as you gracefully glide across the dimly lit room towards him.

“You worked longer today Grand Admiral” you purr in that exotically alluring Dathomirian accent as you run your hands along the broad muscles of his shoulders, the energy from your fingertips dispersing into his skin. Thrawn barely supresses a shudder as he feels the lightning from your touch. He’s not sure if the sensation is from the mysticism of your art or if that is simply the effect your touch has on him at this point. As if you have his body so finely tuned that a single brush of your fingertip is enough to make his heart race and his knees weak.

“Were you perhaps concerned I had forgotten about our rendezvous?” you chuckle in response and this time Thrawn doesn’t manage to supress his body’s physical reaction to your presence. You lean up to whisper in his ear “Never Grand Admiral… you and I both know you crave this…” and despite his carefully constructed façade of power and control, he cannot help but concede your point. He is addicted to this, addicted to you.

Once again, he’s not sure if this is a result of the supernatural power you wield, if you are slowly warping his mind to thirst for you or if this is simply the effect of his baser animalistic desires he’s always tried to supress and control. But the moment he feels your soft lips kiss along his neck and jaw, he does not care, he simply closes his eyes and allows the magicks of your touch to consume him.

“Tonight, I would like to show you something” your melodic voice pulls him out of his thoughts as he opens his eyes. The first thing he notices is the green haze surrounding the both of you as you stand naked together in his room. He simply nods as you lead him over to the bed, well aware that whatever you wish to show him is beyond his understanding and will make itself abundantly clear very soon.

He lays down on the bed, his cock having grown harder since you began your teasing touches along his body now rests against his abdomen, a small bead of precum smears along his abs as it twitches in anticipation. You give him a sickly-sweet smile, the kind you only give him when you’re about to take him to new peaks of pleasure he didn’t even know his body could experience and it makes his length throb.

“I want you to close your eyes for me Grand Admiral, close your eyes and open your mind” you only ever refer to him by his rank. Part of him wonders if it is out of respect or if it’s a reminder of the power you hold over a man of his station, either way, he closes his eyes as he feels pinpricks of energy make their way over his body.

He feels his body grow sensitive, his nerve endings alight with new sensations. He wants to open his eyes, he wants to watch as you work your magicks over him, but he resists the urge and allows the new feelings to wash over him.

“You may open your eyes now Grand Admiral… How do you feel?” you cock your head to the side as you ask, a gesture that could almost be considered innocent if he didn’t know that you were anything but.

“I feel relatively unchanged” it’s not a lie, but it’s not the entire truth. He feels an odd sensation simmering in his pelvis mingling with his own arousal, his nipples are hard and feel more sensitive than normal, but nothing vastly out of the ordinary.

The melodic sound of your laughter makes his arousal twitch again.

You stand above him and run a finger up the length of your body towards your breast and Thrawn swears he can feel the ghost of your touch on his own body. You tweak your own nipple and he gasps, the sensation spreading throughout his nerves and sending a jolt of pleasure down to his pulsing cock.

Your laughter once again rings throughout the room at the sight of his reaction and you gracefully move onto the bed, sitting just next to his head, running your fingers through his hair. “Are you prepared for a lesson in perspective Grand Admiral? Are you prepared to learn how effectual of a lover you are?”

Thrawn knows that no matter his answer, he is about to find out.

You lean down and kiss along his jaw and neck again, giving soft nips and bites to the skin as your fingers run along his abdominal muscles, your nails dragging along the hard flesh causing goosebumps to prickle along his skin.

“What to show you first… perhaps your fingers… your cock…? No, I believe I wish you to experience your silver tongue first” you muse, more to yourself than him as Thrawn attempts to quell the rising wave of desire in his body.

Thrawn as had many encounters, with many men, women and everything that lays between or outside the binary. But for the first time, he considers that he may in fact, be out of his depth as you move over him, your plush thighs caging his face as your soaked folds hover just above his face. As his red eyes gaze up at your arousal, he’s determined to see this through, the grand admiral is nothing if not capable of adapting after all.

You lower yourself down onto his waiting mouth, his tongue lathing over your clit and he feels it, the white hot pleasure that causes him to groan into your cunt, his hands reach up to grip your thighs, his fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to leave bruises.

Its nothing like he’s ever experienced. He knows, physiologically speaking of course, that females tend to have more nerve endings down there, but he never expected anything to feel quite so euphoric as your magicks transmit the sensation of your pleasure to him. He eats you like a man starved, his lips and tongue working with a fervour even he didn’t know he was capable of as his untouched cock strains and twitches with the foreign feeling.

He’s moaning, groaning, he’s never usually this vocal, but each moan sends vibrations through your body to your core and in turn, sends those same feelings straight to his length. He feels the coil tighten, the molten hot pleasure in your belly about to burst and he knows that he will fall along with you, that if the band snaps and you climax, he won’t be able to withstand the sensations that will go along with it.

He doesn’t stop however, the desire to finish you and potentially himself is too strong. He stops breathing as his mouth and tongue bring you over the edge, he feels the wave as it crashes over you and him, he feels himself reach the peak along with you and lets out a sinfully loud moan that he would almost be embarrassed about if it didn’t feel so euphoric.

But just as he’s sure that he is about to spill ropes of his seed all over his belly, he feels a pressure at the base of his cock. He looks up at you from between your legs as you sit on his face as if you were some ancient queen and he was your throne, your hair mussed, your body slick with sweat and another one of those smiles gracing your mouth as you stare back down at him.

He knows he looks desperate. He knows that if his lips weren’t still occupied with your folds that he would be demanding, begging you to let him cum, to relieve the pressure and grant him release.

It’s never that simple with you though, is it?

You climb off his face, your legs shaking only slightly as you move around the bed, settling yourself down on his thighs. Thrawn feels the residual effects of your orgasm wash over him, the lingering pleasure subsiding as you stare down at him, your eyes fixed on his throbbing erection, the copious amounts of precum that he’s been leaking all over himself since the moment you sat on his face.

He wants to say something, anything, to attempt to regain some control, but he knows the moment he opens his mouth he’ll dissolve into a mess of begging and grovelling. He remains silent as he watches you, licking his lips to taste the last remainder of your release, feeling a pulse of arousal flow through him from your shared connection as he does.

“How do you feel now Grand Admiral?” your voice is steady; he wonders how anyone can remain so composed after feeling that amount of pleasure.

“I am now feeling relatively… affected” his voice is shaky, husky, a ghost of the commanding tenor he usually employs. You take him in your hand, your touch on his cock causing the both of you to let out a satisfied moan that mingles in the cold air of his quarters.

You position yourself above him, the blunt head of his length nudging your entrance and his mouth goes dry. Despite having been penetrated in the past he knows that this is going to be a vastly different experience. He’s proven correct when you sink down onto him, the both of you crying out in pleasure as you slowly lower yourself onto him.

It’s pleasure beyond anything he has ever experienced. The feeling of your warm, wet walls surrounding him, combined with the phantom feeling of being so full would be enough to send him over the edge into oblivion if it weren’t for that intangible pressure at the base of his cock stifling his release.

It’s when you begin moving that he feels as if he is about to white out from pleasure. The sound of skin on skin and your combined moans fills the room as you ride him. Thrawn can do nothing but grasp the sheets as your body moves up and down on top of him, as he feels the pressure begin to build from your connection again. He grits his teeth, letting out an almost animalistic growl as he feels your muscles tighten around him, his hips moving on their own accord pounding into you in sync with your own movements as you cry out his name.

Not his title, his name.

The phantom pressure releases from the base of his cock and he cums. Moaning and groaning as he experiences the most powerful orgasm of his life, shooting rope after rope of hot cum into your cunt, filling it so completely that it spills out of you, down his shaft, running over his balls and spills onto his sheets.

He must have blacked out for a second because when he opens his eyes you are already standing up on unstable legs, his seed running down your thighs and the whispy sensations appear to have left him.

Sitting up in bed, he fights a bout of dizziness as he looks over towards you, his breathing still ragged as he takes in your form, moving around his quarters as if you command his ship and not him.

“How do you feel Grand Admiral?” your voice is softer now tinged with a small amount of concern as your gaze travels over him, inspecting him.

“Satisfied” is all he says as you walk back over towards the bed and snuggle next to him, your head resting in the crook of his neck.

Yes the Grand Admiral is still not certain about how this engagement began, but he is very happy with how it ended.

@ele-millennial-weirdo @thrawnspetgoose @69fandom-fanatic69 @al-astakbar @blackmonitor @vibratingbonesbis @khapikat222 @novemberblueskyink

[kingofbodyrolls]

Friendcation (m) | myg | teaser three

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist |  next →

Summary: When you and Yoongi visit his family in Daegu, and he introduces you as his friend, it rubs you all kind of wrong. But what are you even to each other, other than best friends with benefits?

+ moodboard!

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female, “Y/N”)

Other characters: Jimin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin.

Genre/AU: best friends to friends with benefits to lovers, non idol!au, camping!au, roadtrip!au, mechanic!Yoongi, humor, slight angst, smut and fluff

Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (This is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.)

Word Count: 11,9K (506 words for the teaser)

Warnings: (for the teaser it's: dirty talk, beginning of smut) slight angst, ‘friendzoned’, smut; protected penetration, fingering, nipple and breast play, handjob, dirty talk. Yoongi’s sister also deserves a warning 🫢

Author’s note: We’re halfway there 🎉I actually wanted to put more stuff into this chapter, but I’m striving for 10-12K word each chapter, so I had to leave some things out and put it in the next chapter, because the smut scene got too long 🫢 I hope you won’t mind, and I promise there will be more smut coming 😇

Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts, @constancelayon, @wobblewobble822, @ktownshizzle, @moonchild1, @ultimatefangirl0, @baechugff, @jimintaemin, @parapiop7, @fckkntired, @iluvfndms, @citypop-princess, @tarahardcore, @bergandysam, @massivelyfullenthusiast *strikethrough means tumblr isn’t letting me tag you :(

Teaser for chapter three is under the cut ⬇️

Your fingers tremble with a mixture of anticipation and excitement as you grab onto the elastic of Yoongi’s boxers. The knowledge that you are about to reveal the object of your deepest desire sends a shiver down your spine. With a swift, almost eager motion, you roll down the fabric and pull it down, exposing Yoongi’s throbbing cock to the morning air. The sight before you takes your breath away. It’s not your first encounter with a dick, by no means, but this is different. Yoongi’s cock is a work of art, beautifully sculpted and perfectly proportioned. Its girth is something to behold, stretching your imagination as to how it will feel when it’s buried deep inside you. The reddened tip glistens with a bead of precum, a visual testament to his undeniable desire for you.

A teasing smile dances on your lips as you lick them, your gaze fixed on his cock. It’s a moment of pure, unfiltered desire as you reach out, your hand trembling with anticipation. You’re captivated by the pulsing heat emanating from him, and the thought of how he’ll feel in your grasp ignites a fire within you. Your fingers brush against the silky skin, and you can’t help but let out a soft, appreciative gasp at the sensation. As your hand closes around his throbbing length, you know that there’s no turning back from the ecstasy that awaits you both.

Your eagerness is palpable as you stroke his dick, desire burning in your eyes. His raspy, breathless voice sends shivers down your spine as he anticipates your next move. With a devilish glint in your eyes, you slowly let go of his throbbing cock, releasing it from your gentle grasp.

“I know what you’re thinking, babe,” he pants, his voice laced with a mix of desire and restraint, “but if you do that, I’m gonna cum in five seconds, and that would be embarrassing.”

You can’t help but pout in mock offense, your lips forming a playful, sultry curve. Your own arousal is undeniable, but you’re willing to indulge in some teasing foreplay before diving into the depth of passion. You just really want to suck him off, or at least give him a hand. 

“I would rather cum inside your pussy,” his sultry words send a delicious thrill coursing through your body, and your breath hitches as his warm tongue grazes your earlobe. You can’t help but squirm beneath him, your need for him growing more intense by the second.

Your hand, guided by desire and need, finds its way back to his throbbing cock, fingers wrapping around it firmly, but not too tight. You begin to stroke him slowly, your touch teasing and deliberate.

Yoongi’s eyes darken with desire as he watches your skilled fingers dance over his length. The intensity of the moment hangs in the air, and you both know you’re playing with fire.

“God, I’d love that,” you gasp, the mere thought sending shivers of anticipation racing down your spine, your voice trembling with desire.