#the picture is becoming more complete for me

[fluentmoviequoter]

Find Your Own Happiness

Requested Here!

Pairing: (initial) Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: After a falling out with your family, you move to LA and meet Tim Bradford. When he breaks your heart to give his to someone else, you're left completely alone.

Warnings: angst! a tiny bit of fluff, r has a sister, familial reconciliation, only half of a happy ending

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Seven Months Ago

“You’re not listening to me,” you exclaim, failing to keep your voice level. “I’m just asking you to hear me out on why I think this is the right thing to do.”

“Your feelings don’t matter in this,” your mother snaps. “They are dangerous in police work, and if you can’t understand that, you’re more…”

“More what?” you challenge. “Different? Weaker? A failure? All because I want to move to LA and be an LAPD officer.”

“There’s more to it than that,” your dad says.

“There really isn’t.”

You look to your sister and cousins for help, but they sit silently at the table. No one will stand up for you, so you’ll have to give up and accept what your family thinks and wants, or you’ll have to do something for yourself this time.

“I understand wanting me to follow in Dad and Grandpa’s footsteps,” you begin, quieter and softer. “But aren’t I doing that by becoming a police officer? Why does it matter where I police as long as I do?”

“Because our family is here,” your father barks. “The people I, my father, and dozens of other family members have locked away, the victims we’ve helped through over a century are all right here. Running to Los Angeles guarantees that you’ll disappear in the sea of blue patrol cops. You’ll be meaningless there, but you can make a difference here.”

Your jaw drops as pressure builds in your eyes. “You think I’m meaningless? Following my dreams and what I think is the right thing to do makes me meaningless and I’ll disappear into the back of some LAPD directory, that’s what you’re telling me?”

“We’re only trying to do what’s best for you,” someone interjects.

“No!” you yell, turning to see everyone around you. “You’re trying to talk me out of something so that you can brag about me, control me, and make an even bigger name for yourselves! And-“ You pause to laugh, partly because you’re finally seeing your parents' true reason for supporting you for so long and partly to keep yourself from crying. “I’m glad to be the one to tell you this. A police station like the one you want me to waste away in? That is meaningless. This station isn’t big enough to make a real difference in the big picture. Los Angeles? There’s potential there. So, if you don’t want to support me unless you can control me, don’t bother calling.”

As you storm out of your parents’ house with only a day until your first day at the LAPD, you sigh and let the tears you held in roll over your cheeks. Walking to your car, you decide that if the people inside, the people who are supposed to love you no matter what, don’t care, then you don’t either. No one comes out after you, texts to check if you get home safe, and they certainly don’t tell you goodbye before you board the one-way flight to LAX.

Present Day

“If player two – that’s you - was in a TV show, what would it be?” Tim reads. He drops the card and looks at you before he asks, “What is this game?”

You shrug and write your answer on the board. “Lucy said it was fun.”

“Lucy thinks filming documentaries is fun, we can’t trust her judgement. I love you, but this game is stupid.”

You blink at him, then say, “We have to finish this round. What happened to Tim ‘finish what I start and break their spirits’ Bradford?”

“He’s tired of… whatever stupid name this game has.”

Laughing, you watch him write an answer on his miniature whiteboard. When the timer ends, you show your boards to one another.

“Blue Bloods?” you read incredulously.

“Game of Thrones?” he counters in a matching tone.

“I can fight,” you explain as if it’s obvious. “And even if I couldn’t, Oberyn Martell would teach me.”

“You have a boyfriend. I’m sitting right here.”

“A boyfriend who doesn’t wear golden robes, and who thinks I’d be in Blue Bloods.”

“You’re from a family of cops!” he exclaims. “It makes total sense!”

You try to hide how your smile drops at the mention of your family, and it seems to work because Tim checks his chiming phone rather than asking what happened. It’s been over half a year since you last spoke to your family. Close to a year since any of them told you they loved you. You know it’s over at least until you can think of a way to start a conversation without falling into the same argument as before. If you could make an arrest worthy of getting your name in the LA Times, maybe you would have something to show them you were right.

“Is everything okay?” you ask Tim.

He shakes his head, typing quickly. “That UC op I mentioned – with the guy who looks like me? Something came up.”

“Need any help?”

Tim stands, slides his phone in his pocket, and bends at the waist to kiss your forehead. “I have to go to the station and wait for Jake’s phone to ring again. I’ll keep you updated, okay?”

“Okay,” you answer, tipping your head up for a real kiss.

Tim pecks your lips, apologizes, and whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you,” you echo before the door closes behind Tim.

Looking around your empty apartment, you wonder why people who say they love you tend to leave before you’re ready for them to.

Five hours after Tim left, you get a text. Your heart drops at the noise because 2 a.m. messages and being a cop do not go well together. Reaching for your phone, you silently wish that everything and everyone is okay.

Tim Bradford Lucy and I are going somewhere with Dim’s crew. Angela has the info. See you when we get back.

 You know better than to reply, so you type Be safe. I love you and return the phone to its charger. Tim would have told you where they were going if he knew, so you roll over and try to sleep, even though you don’t know where your boyfriend is or what brought you to this moment.

Angela texts you when she leaves Las Vegas. Tim will have more to do, so you don’t expect to see him until tomorrow. Besides, it’s late, and Tim most likely hasn’t slept in the past two days. You open your text thread from him and see the unsent text, then decide to leave it. You can tell him everything in person tomorrow.

It’s after dark, but you’re not sure exactly what time it is when Tim knocks on your front door. He still has greasy gel in his hair and fake tattoos lining his skin. You smile when you see him, but he walks in with no readable expression, and his hands curled into tight fists.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly, as you close the door. “Did everything go well?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine and we got the guys,” Tim mumbles. “I- I don’t know how to say this.”

“You can tell me anything, Tim.”

“Lucy broke up with Chris right before we left,” he says. You’re unsure how that’s relevant, but maybe there’s a point to be made. “When we got back, I took her home to drop her off.”

You nod, and Tim runs his fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you whisper.

“I realized something in Vegas.”

An uncomfortable yet familiar pressure nudges against your eyes. Everyone who says they love you decides you are meaningless.

“And you’re leaving,” you finish for him, dropping your gaze to the floor. “For Lucy.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Tim defends, stepping toward you.

“But it did.” You shrug and add, “You can go.”

“I’m–”

“It doesn’t matter. Just go, Tim.”

Tim nods once before he opens the door. With one hand on the door, he says, “Goodnight.”

And then he’s gone. You press your hand over your mouth as the first tears break over your waterline. Stumbling back, you let yourself collide with the wall before you slide down it. With your knees pulled toward your chest, you drop your head and cry for Tim, for your family, for yourself, and for all of the things that you have lost. It seems impossible to keep the things and the people you care about close, and the last seven months have led you to this point too many times.

You wipe your face harshly and stand. “Not anymore,” you decide aloud. Gathering your things, you know you need a break. There’s a diner on the corner that reminds you of home, and you walk toward it as you replay every moment of your relationship with Tim. Every mention of Lucy, every moment he was distracted or seemed to enjoy double dates with her and Chris, and all the little things that should have alerted you to the fact that there was something wrong pop into your mind.

In the diner, you place your phone on the table with the keypad shining bright. You type in a number you remember even after seven months of not dialing it and press the green button.

Miles away, a cell phone beside an open case file rings, and your father answers it without reading the caller ID. He says his last name and waits for the person on the other end to speak.

“Hello, sir,” the man says. “I’m calling about your daughter.”

Your dad sits up straighter, his breath catching at the idea of anything bad happening to you. He’s dreaded this phone call since you decided to follow in his path and become a police officer. He should have kept you close, he thinks, so that he could help keep you safe.

“She’s okay,” the man adds quickly. “Physically, at least. I’m not in the position to tell you the details, but she may need someone to support her.”

“I…”

“I know the basics, I understand it has been a while since you last spoke to her, but if my daughter were dealing with this, I’d want to know.”

“I appreciate the call. I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”

“Wade. Sergeant Wade Grey.”

The dial tone trills once before you end the call. You planned to call your sister, but the thought of telling her that you’re heartbroken is practically admitting that your parents were right and you should have stayed home. You feel lost, and though this diner once felt like home, you need a real escape. Glancing at your phone, you sigh when you see the time. Your shift starts in six hours, so you need to go home and get some sleep. Tomorrow night, you’ll get as far from the memories of Tim and the meaningless police work you’ve grown to love.

The air is clear tonight, and you trace a random shape in the dirt beneath you as you watch the lights of Los Angeles beneath you. It’s quiet, and you wonder why you never visited the Hollywood Hills before. Tim wasn’t one for romantic outings – though he probably would for Lucy, you think suddenly – and after your first day at Mid-Wilshire, you didn’t have much time to explore on your own. So, now that you’ve had your heart broken and are completely alone, you find a pretty place and breathe.

You’re not alone, you remember. Grey heard what Tim did and helped you have a good day at work despite that. Plus, he put you on patrol far away from Tim. Grey has become like a father figure to you in Los Angeles, but you find yourself missing your blood family more often than before.

Gravel crunches behind you, and you shift so you can reach your off-duty weapon. The headlights turn off just before the driver’s door opens, and your eyes widen when your father steps out.

“Dad!” you exclaim, scrambling to your feet and rushing to hug him.

He wraps you in a warm hug, murmuring apologies as he cradles your head against his chest. He held you like this often when you were young, but you find that it’s more comforting and needed now.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” your mother says, approaching from the passenger side and joining the hug.

“I’m the most sorry,” your sister announces, smiling as she brushes your hair from your face. “I should have stood up for you. I was looking out for myself, and it wasn’t right to let you take all of that. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” you reply. “All of you, so much.”

“What happened?”

You pull your lip between your teeth and shake your head. “I started dating a cop. Stupid, I know. He was great, though, and I really loved him. Still do, even though he left me for his former rookie.”

“Scumbag,” your sister grumbles. Your mom taps her shoulder and sends her a scolding look, making you smile. You really missed your family.

“He wasn’t,” you reply. “I think he ignored his true feelings for so long because we were together. They went undercover together, and he couldn’t deny it anymore, not with it staring him in the face.”

“Don’t make excuses for people,” your dad reminds you. “If he couldn’t see and appreciate how amazing you are, he didn’t deserve you. Or your tears.”

You nod and wipe a tear, suddenly remembering you never told them where you were. “How’d you find me?”

“Sergeant Grey called me last night. And he gave me a few ideas about where you may be.”

“He tracked me,” you correct with a laugh. “He’s great.”

“He really is,” your mom agrees. “I can see why you picked his station.”

“So, Tim?” your sister prods.

“Grey is keeping us separated at work for now, which I understand. I just… It was a shock. It felt like everything was falling apart. I can’t lose anyone else.”

You’re wrapped in another hug as your family reminds you, “You didn’t lose us.”

As you drive back to your house with your sister in the passenger seat and your parents behind you, you feel like the hole in your heart is being bridged. Your phone chimes with an incoming message, and your sister is happy to read your messages for you.

“It’s a group chat with Wade Grey, Angela Lopez, Nyla Harper, and Aaron Thorsen. Aaron said, ‘I was team Chenford when I got here, but now’ and Nyla tagged you in a message that says, ‘Come over if you want to talk.’ And I’m not sure I should read the ones from Angela and Wade.”

“Threatening?” you guess with a smile.

“Moderately. Wade sent you a direct one, though. ‘He looks happy. Don’t let that keep you from finding your own happiness in your own time.’ He sounds like Dad.”

“He acts like Dad.”

“Then maybe you should let him set you up.”

You laugh, and when you drive by Tim’s house on your way home, you feel a tug on your heart that won’t go away anytime soon. Though you will have trouble looking at Tim and Lucy in the weeks to come, you got your family back, and maybe your relationship with Tim and the consequent broken heart was worth that.

"You didn't send the last message to Tim," you sister says.

"It wouldn't have changed anything."

"Maybe not. You can change something. Like Wade said, find your own happiness."

[tab00-1nce51]

Teacher and student. (Story)Part 2.

Melisa Mendiny - teacher

Vlad eventually realized that he loves his teacher very much.

And I decided to give her a gift.

Having collected all his savings, he went to a jewelry store and bought expensive earrings.

After class, they agreed to meet near a cafe. Melissa came and smiled sweetly at him. Vlad timidly approached her and kissed her on the cheek. Then they went to a cafe and sat down at a table.

They drank coffee and chatted for a bit. And Vlad again confessed his love to Melissa. And gave her his gift.

Melisa was amazed and pleasantly surprised by such a gift. And his attention. She hugged him and kissed him.

Melisa : - Thank you very much for everything you did for me. I appreciate it.

Vlad : - No. I should be the one to thank you for everything you've done for me.When I arrived in this city, I was all alone. Everyone didn't care about me. But you didn't stay away. You're the only one who didn't pass by. You helped me see the world in a new light.

Vlad : - I love you Melisa

She hugged him and kissed him.

For a while they walked around the city and then went home to Melisa.

There they took another photo shoot.

The more they talked, the more candid their photos became.

And the closer they became to each other.

Their relationship became stronger and more romantic.

He took her to a restaurant. He met with her the dawn on the beach.

Gave her flowers every time we met.

Vlad met Melisa after work and escorted her home.

And there they again began their candid shooting.

Today Melisa decided to make a very candid photoshoot for Vlad .

She wanted to thank him , she was very pleased to spend time with him .

And there was another reason , but Melisa tried to hide it from everyone .

She decided today to let him fuck her .

And she has created all the conditions for this .

Vlad entered the room where his teacher was already waiting for him .

She was sitting naked in an expensive chair with her legs spread wide .

Melisa asked.

Melisa : - Today we have to try something new .

Melisa : - You don't mind ?

Vlad looked at his beloved teacher and did not know what to do .

He was in shock. In front of him was his teacher, completely naked.

His hands were shaking with passion and desire .But gathering the will into a fist.

He picked up the camera and started taking pictures .

Indeed, the relationship has reached a new level.

Melisa was lying in front of Vlad with her legs spread , and parted the lips of her pussy in front of the camera .

Vlad bent down in front of her and took a few shots. Then he froze for a second, examining every millimeter of his teacher's pussy.

Then Melisa changed her position . She got on all fours , sticking out her ass right in front of her student 's face.

She spread her buttocks with her hands, so wide that Vlad saw everything that more than one teacher does not show his student .

Melisa asked .

Melisa : - So clearly visible ?

Vlad : - Oh. Yes , Miss Mendiny . I mean Melisa .

Melisa : - Hee hee . You 're such a sweet Vlad . Have you taken a picture yet ?

Vlad : - Hmm. No . I. Yes

Vlad immediately started taking pictures . Insanely beautiful forms of Melissa, his beloved woman.

This was what he had always dreamed of .

Melisa didn't bother anymore the fact, that she is posing naked for her student. She wanted to make him happy from the very beginning. And seeing with what a happy look he looks at her ass. It becomes clear that she is doing everything right.

This went on until.....

Until this moment comes!

Vlad timidly parted Melisa's buttocks and sent cock straight into her anus.

Melisa moaned softly as she felt the head rub between her buns. She looked into Vlad's eyes and directed him with her hand inside.

Due to his small stature, Vlad could not insert his penis into her hole. He had to put math textbooks under his feet. And stand on them. He bent Melisa a little forward, stood behind and began to fuck her in the ass.

With sharp movements, he drove his cock into her ass. The sound of slapping resounded throughout the apartment. Melisa smiled and moaned in pleasure. She knew that this could not be done! But she didn't care anymore. She took a member of her student in full length inside herself. Taking great pleasure in it. She wanted to give herself completely to him.

Vlad picked up the pace and began to fuck her even faster, even more furiously. He grabbed her by the hips. And started to fuck her with all his might.

Melisa moaned loudly. She was pleased that she was shaking with pleasure and overtaking orgasm. It was the first time she gave her ass to anyone. And from one thought that it was her student. She was insanely excited.

The room was filled with moans, love cries and passion pulsing and bursting her ass so hard..

Vlad: - Do you like it, teacher? Do you like it?

Melisa : - Uh. Oh. Yeah, honey. Oh. Aah. Yeees. Fuck me in the ass. Fuck me harder. More. Aaaahhh

Vlad held Melisa by the waist and pounded her ass, picking up the pace. Melisa moaned and screamed with pleasure. She was playing with her pussy with one hand, and clutching the bedspread with the other.

On which Vlad fucked her passionately. He tried to convey through sex all the love he feels for her.

At one point, Melisa screamed loudly.

Melisa :- Oh my God, Vlad. I'm coming. I'm coming, honey. More, please more.

Melisa :- Don't stop. Aahhh. Ohhhh. Aaaaaaaaahh

Vlad was shocked, he saw and felt for the first time what it is like when a beloved woman has an orgasm.

Melisa clenched in orgasm and trembled convulsively at this moment. Tightly squeezing Vlad's penis with her anus.

Vlad was over the moon, he succeeded. He brought Melisa to orgasm. And without slowing down, he continued to fuck Melisa in the ass.

Melisa :- Oh dear. Aaah. Yeah.. Here it is. Ooooh

Melisa moaned loudly. Vlad felt at that moment that he was going to cum too. And he screamed.

Vlad :- Teacher.. Melisa. I'm coming. I'm coming. Now

Melisa :- Come on baby, cum for me. Cum on my ass.

At the last moment, Vlad pulled his cock out of the teacher's ass, and a thick hot stream sprayed Melisa's beautiful ass

There was so much sperm and it erupted so often. That it covered Melisa's entire back.

Vlad has never experienced this, he came on Melisa's back, on her long hair, on her ass.

Melisa, feeling the scorching jets of sperm on her body, said.

Melisa :- Oh my God, Vlad. So much cum. You've finished me all over.

Melisa :- Oh wow. Baby. It's so hot.

Vlad finally stopped cumming. And gasping from orgasm, he said.

Vlad :- This is the best day of my life. Melisa, that was just amazing. Ooh. Yeah.

Vlad :- Melisa thank you, my love.

Melisa :- Ooh. Cute. I'm glad you liked it. I wanted you to be happy with me so much. It was very good for me too.

She then ran her hand over her ass and collected drops of sperm with her finger and then tasted it.

Melisa : - Umm yummy.

Melisa : - Your cum is so sweet.

Melisa : - Oh dear. There's still a little bit left.

She said, pointing at Vlad's penis. On which a drop of sperm hung. Melisa jumped off the bed and onto the floor.

She knelt in front of Vlad and took his cock in her mouth. Then she began to gently suck the boy's cock. Trying to give him even more pleasure. And suck every last drop out of the penis.

Vlad looked down into her eyes. And he smiled at her.

Melisa smacked her lips and said.

Melisa : - Now everything is clear.

She stood in front of Vlad, and approaching asked him.

Melisa : - Is this what you dreamed of? Did I make you happy?

Vlad : -Oh my god. Yes. Teacher. Yes. I am the happiest person in the world.

Melisa : - I'm glad to hear that, dear. I really wanted to see your smile.

Vlad : - I love you, Melisa.

Melisa : - And I love you too, my boy.

Then they kissed passionately.

A week later.

Melisa was at home. And she was trying on a new outfit. Which she bought recently at the store.

She was already dressed and wanted to go outside. When she heard the doorbell ring.

Melisa opened the front door. And saw Vlad was standing there.

Melisa : - Vlad? Hi. Your visit is so unexpected. I... ❤️

Vlad : - I miss Melisa. I really want to be with you right now.

Melisa : - Have you missed me? Honey, I'm touched, um... I... You..

Melisa : - Do you want to have sex right now?

Vlad : - ❤️Yes.

End of part 2

To be continued..

[mymarifae]

these two are linked in some way. 100%. i'm hesitant to add mem to the theory board because idk if they'll be related to march too or just cyrene (being an entity that sort of embodies cyrene's... essence? like ELF elysia in hi3) but the similarities they have with Both are too big to ignore completely

unsure if they're about to go the route of cyrene and march being the same person or if march is simply like... a fragment of cyrene that was sealed and sent away to maybe give her a chance to live on since this girl is doomed to die in virtually every universe and iteration. amphoreus's time and space displacement is fucked up and it seems like we're going to be spending a lot of the adventure split across concepts of "past," "present," and "future." so that mayyyyy be why we were able to see cyrene interacting with and talking to stelle in the nameless faces video, if she's no longer "whole"/dead/...whatever.

she does appear to be emerging from a place of... non... physicality. also it's worth noting that in the first picture of her i included, she's sinking - into water or a water-like substance. that can presumably freeze over...... and become the ice block himeko and welt found march 7th in....... hm? 🤨

it's hard to say how much cyrene will have in common with elysia - it's unfair to expect them to be the exact same character, and maybe these points i'm about to bring up mean little in the end because we don't know for sure where the story is going to go, but

elysia was "born from nothing" which doesn't quite have the same connotations as march 7th's "birth" but you know. they both found themselves in a sudden state of existence with next to nothing to fall back on and they defined themselves

elysia is not humble about her beauty and speaks often of it (as she should; she is very pretty). similarly, march frequently boasts about her cuteness and describes herself as the cutest girl in the world (as she should; she is very cute)

"never forget your roots" is one of the mantras elysia lives by. this stands out to me because despite not... really needing those memories, march is pretty insistent on remembering her past. the lesson that the garden of remembrance and just the universe and her adventures in general have tried to teach her ("your present defines you; so long as you're happy here, you don't need the memories of your past, and retrieving them might destroy what you've come to love now") just doesn't appear to be sinking in. perhaps because she subconsciously has a core belief stating the opposite

as for how mem would fit into this i have nothing for you because we don't have anywhere near enough info on them for me to begin thinking about that. but it seems like they'll be a pretty big deal.

like i'm spitballing more than anything here. if march IS a fragment of cyrene i think it's also obvious that she has grown into her own, entirely separate person and her origins are inconsequential - though she might not think that if/when she learns this about herself. that might also offer an explanation for why the garden of remembrance won't let her have any part of her old memories, not even a hint. because learning that she's technically a piece of someone else might be too heavy a blow to her sense of identity and she'll be entirely too focused on all the wrong things. uncovering her past will slow her down at the most inopportune moment... make her vulnerable in all the worst ways. which might be why she appears so absent from the adventure.

it's also possible that like. all three of these guys - march, cyrene, and mem - are fragments of a titan (don't ask me which). or that march was given cyrene's coreflame (don't ask me which) before being catapulted into space. or march was the previous owner of the coreflame cyrene has now - if they can be passed on to other people - before being catapulted into space. or i mean, the coreflame cyrene HAD because i'm not convinced this girl's fully alive and well. mem IS the coreflame, brought to life/imparted with cyrene's memories and will.

do you see... there's just so very much to think about... looooots of story spoilers got thrown at us if we can just... untangle the mess... can anyone HEAR me

[promiseiwillwrite]

Witch Shit Inventory

DESK: Computer and phone. Personal Telepathy devices. Extremely addictive and Extremely powerful.  Right up there with the Most important Grimoire.

Polished Carnelian x2 – Literally my Favorite Rock, and another almost as good

Miniature Dice set

Smooth orange stone from Saudi Arabia

Wooden Clockwork Dog

Alicorn and Narwhal Stickers given to me by another witch

7 Containers of Brain Skittles

A lego Centurian

White Safety Pin

Razor Blade

Tweezers

Nail Clippers

Post-it note pads

Hand carved Bone Salmon Talisman to Loki

Sewing Table, which itself has two leaves that fold out to become BIG:

One sewing machine

Over 300 buttons of various sizes

1 bluetooth speaker

Sewing machine care and use manual

One white pigeon feather

Black Leather box containing buckles grommets and other miscellaneous pins

Head Pins

Seam ripper

Thread scissors

An Expired ID that is still a legally valid document in the state of WA

Art and wall pictures, including dragon mask, fan and Tiger wood cut

Window Shelf:

Tea Tins and several empty bottles

Milk Glass Chicken box, containing two emeralds, a piece of sea glass and a plastic bead

Bottle dried salvia Flowers

Bottle Dried peony blossoms

Bottle dried Yarrow Flowers

Bottle dried Chamomile flowers and seeds

A Green Crushed Velvet Fascinator

Bottle Dried Money Plant Seed Pods

Numerous polished stones, small

One round lump of Okinawan Granite

A blue glass jar that I Dug Up Containing a Blue plastic Kangaroo I found in the parking lot after I enlisted in the military in 2015 and several Pins from conventions

Small paperwasp nest

Dancing Ganesha Statue

Two flakes of Alaskan Shale

Several wind polished stones from Saudi Arabia

2 Okinawan guardian lion-dog statuettes

1 jar of the BEST marbles, including one with Daemeon’s Proper Name on it.

Pinkie Pie Pez Dispenser (empty)  ☹

1 Green Luck Care-Bear Figurine

1 silver plastic box containing the silver loop earrings I used to wear

In the Floor:

One large circular rug, blue, with moon and sun motif.

5 tall candles (think the kind they use at catholic mass)

Two lighters and two menorah candles

Two tarot decks I made myself

An Art Deco Turtle lamp that needs a new bulb

A tiny box shelf with no current contents

Floor pillow

That amazing Bone and dead creature mobile I got for Christmas

A book of Faery Tales from Italy

The Back Half of the ORACLE

The Quan Yin Oracle (Cringe)

A book called “The Women who Run with the Wolves” which is DEFINITELY Problematic to say the least…  But from a different time, and makes a very formative point about Stories.

Oh, dear a lot of cards I still have not sent to people…

The Poop tracker and Food Diary

The Big Paper Pad with Current musings

Buddha

My Cult Notebook

A Complete Military Uniform

A Kombucha Kit

A Bag of Foreign Coins

A Mushroom Grow Kit

A FUCKTON of Seeds

Tape.

Several kinds of string.

Hundreds of pens, markers, colored pencils and crayons in jars.

A miniature kaleidoscope

Blank index cards

A Wooden Nickel with the words “Shit Show” on the front

The remains of several stationery kits, and envelopes

Organizational tabs and stickies

Range Rated Hearing Protection

Hanging from a dead tree:

4 Glass baubles in blue, purple and brown

A strand of Halloween beads

A Travel talisman with “Wyn” and “Nyd” on opposite sides

A Blown Glass witch’s Ball

A Costume Jewelry Emerald more than an inch long

A silver pocket watch owned by my Grandfather

A Plastic Lei

A Pouch Made out of a Turtle Shell

A Tiny ceramic vial with a Celtic Tree on the front

A tiny butterfly watch I bought in Korea

An Evil Eye Talisman I bought in Qatar

Window Shelf the second:

2 Tiger butter Orchids, one about to Bloom

Closet Contents:

Fabric Given to me by both of my Mothers

Full Military Service Dress

Messenger Bag

Many uncomfortable shoes

Old idea maps

Coyote tail belt

Squirrel hide mandala

Maple staff carved with Runes

A Katana gifted in Perfect Love

A bull whip

A hand made Botanical Field Press And Critters and Creatures, this is just my Office….

Chapter 1: City of Tomes

Week 1: Check Inventory

You're trapped in the City of Tomes - for the time being. While you're here you need money. What do you have on hand that could help you track rare books?

Quest: Take inventory of all magical tools and ingredients you have on hand. Note whether each tool needs maintenance, and if you're running low on any supplies.

Don't forget to pay special attention to your divination tools. You'll be relying on them the most to find those rare books.

Reward: 5xp, unlock: Inventory Sheet, unlock action: Leave Bedroom

[whinyangel]

felon!jj wants to make a sextape! very short and I do apologize 😔

jj always had a way of doing things. mainly he’d do them his own way without a question about. that was what led you to this very moment. face down into the pillow while absolutely cock drunk. your hair was such a mess and a pool of drool lied right beneath you. you were absolutely shamed to say the least. the sound of skin slapping and heavy grunting filled the enclosure of the room. your vision was going blurry and tears started to stain your cheeks the harder jj fucked into you.

the flash from his phone nearly blinded you as he put it all up in your face. jj had you saying the most dirtiest shit, all while chuckling in your ear. you felt completely and utterly humiliated.

��tell your daddy hi. come on do it sugarpuss,” and you do exactly as your told—waving and casting a pouty smile towards the camera. you were nothing more than his sex doll in this moment and he could do absolutely anything he pleased. “i wonder how your daddy would feel if he saw just how disgusting of a girl you are. how you’re not as pure as you seem to be. it’s such a shame that your fucking with an ex inmate.” you felt your stomach tighten, not because you were on the verge of cumming but because of jj’s words. it was true. you had never in your life imagined that you’d even cross paths with someone like him but you loved it. you really loved it.

you reached back and grab jj’s waist, signaling him to go deeper. he laughed like a maniac knowing exactly what move he was about to pull. “you really wanna go there sugar?” he began pounding into you so hard that your body bounced on and off the mattress, following his thrust. “been wanting to this ever since I saw those cute ass pictures you were sending me. knew you needed a man like me to come and fuck up your life.” he leaned down, pressing all of his body weight on top of you, heavily breathing your ear. “you want me to knock you up? sounds like a good idea to me sweets. a kid for my kiddo.”

jj’s thrust began to become sloppier and it wasn’t long after that he collapsed on top of you, his dick pulsating as his cum spilled out of your sweet cunt. he quickly grabbed his phone, ending the video. “can’t wait to show all the guys this. you’ll be the talk of the town for days kiddo.”

@starfxkrinc

[tackykachowch]

Jinx's appearance in s2 ep9 is a tragedy for her character. The writing throughout the season already tried its best to destroy absolutely everything meaningful to her and who she is at her core, and now we get the chance to see it visually.

I'll get this out of the way so nobody bothers me about it later: yes, I personally hate the design overall. But despite that if it was truthful to her character and reflected her journey well I wouldn't even squeak. Well, maybe one tiny time, but not make a whole post about it.

Alright, so right now I'm going to lign up all 3 of her designs and compare them in a sense how they represent Jinx as a character. I apologize for using The Wild Rift model because it's actual hell to find her s2 ep9 look in good quality and with a good view of the details.

There's a pretty stark difference between Powder and Jinx. The only element they share is gloves, but on Jinx they are modified and have a different color. There are however also similiar "motifs"(?), like purple stripes on clothes, Jinx's belts are positioned in a way that mirrors Powder's blue...thing on her pants; also Powder has a small braid on the side of her head, as well as golden hairpins, while Jinx has two braids that are waaay longer, but she still has golden elements that support her braids.

Now, the differences. Powder's clothes are layered and are made from different fabrics, covering almost her entire body. This represents that she's a shy, frightly girl with very low self-esteem. Jinx, on the other hand, has waaay more open skin, even to a somewhat inappropriate degree. This shows us that she became confident and doesn't care what others think of her, maybe even to a fault. Her boots in some way resemble jester's shoes, showing us her more light-hearted attitude, especially towards violence.

Also, unlike Powder, who only ever shot from a toy gun and made bombs that didn't work, Jinx is a prodigy bomb maker and a master shooter with (what seems like) a hand-made pistol, and on top of that has an also self-made machine gun. So from all of this we can pick up that this is the same person, but she changed in a huge way, hence why even her name is different.

Now, onto the Jinx we see in s2 ep9. She cut off her braids, colored streaks of her hair, especially on the bang, replaced her pants, top, and belts, made herself a hood, painted over her tattoos with x-es and Ekko's symbols, fused her machine gun with Fishbones, her recently made rocket launcher (ignore the wild rift picture for this part), and completely remade her pistol. The only things that carry over from her previous outfit are gloves, boots (which are now fully laced), her necklace aaaand yeah that's it. Motifs are left the same, except for her hair of course.

Now, I want to talk about a couple of elements in detail. Her hood is made from unknown material, and resembles some kind of monster, rather than a monkey, raven or shark, her previously established symbols. Like someone pointed out, it probably resembles drawings on Isha's helmet.

Also Jinx has pink markings under her eyes, just like Powder from Ekko's vision in season 1 ep7.

The bandages that replace her top are the same ones Vi has.

So, with all of that information, what can we tell about Jinx at the end of her journey? The obvious answer is that she decided to move on, but in what way? Accepting both "Powder" and "Jinx" parts of her? But then why did she paint over her tattoos? Something permanent, that shows how irreversibly she changed over the years, and will never become the same girl again? Moreover, why didn't she make the new tattoos, pink bullets? Yes yes, pink bullets. Both LoL Jinx and even s2 ep9 skin for Jinx in The Wild Rift have pink bullets tattoos, but arcane Jinx doesn't. Why tho? Well, of course, it's our good ol' pal Silco erasure. Because, you see, Jinx killed Silco with her Pow-Pow, and when she shoots with it, the bullets are seen as pink projectiles. So, not only does Jinx figuratively want to "paint over" her past with Silco, she also in no way wants to capture what she did to him and that in the very same night she finally accepted herself as Jinx. Of course we know that s2 writers didn't want to follow up on this decision, but adding a couple of effects onto her model isn't that big of a job. Anyway

Why did she go back to covering her legs entirely? Is she more careful now, orrr perhaps she seeks protection from someone? No. Why does she have paint all over her, and Ekko's symbols in particular? Is she a part of the Firelights now? Even if that's the case, it was never confirmed on screen. Why did she completely change her haircut, only leaving a bang? I guess hair holds the memories or whatever, so to start a new life you shouldn't have any memories of the previous one? Idk. Why did she replace her top with bandages like Vi's, if the last time they saw each other Jinx told Vi to let her go and forget about her? Idk. Why did she fuse Pow-Pow and Fishbones together? Idk.

The only things I more or less don't question are the hood and markings, but then again, I'm not really happy with the fact that we see Jinx in them in her "last" moments either. That's the part of my biggest problem with all of this, actually. It took around 10 years for Jinx to have such a big difference in how she looks, but the latest change happened literally overnight. No matter how you try to explain this, this is objectively terrible writing. In less than one episode the main character of the series drastically changed her appearance in ways that should tell us about a big character development, but we didn't get a chance to see any of it. Not the process, nor the development itself, because Jinx behaves in ep9 the same way she behaves in the rest of s2.

So, what was that all about? I guess they wanted to fill out the quota of a minimum of two outfit changes per season, but it's in no way justified within the show. And that's why this is a tragedy. Jinx went from the most well-written character in the show with incredible design and conflict to the writer's toy which only function is to be sacrificed.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Ngl I think I'd have a great time (not really but I'd learn a lot) being doflamingo's darling. Like I wanna study that man, so if he kidnapped me and kept me around all the time I'd be so intrigued I'm taking notes on all the weird shit he says and does. I'm also biting, but that's my own issues tbh

Doflamingo doesn't think much of the notebooks he sees you walking around with. He figures you've just taken to writing/drawing as a form of stress relief or something like that. But he can only ignore so many instances of him doing something that he deems completely mundane and hearing a quiet 'fascinating' followed by a bunch of scribbling before he has to investigate.

He snatches the notebook out of your hands one morning to figure out what exactly is so "fascinating", only to find a detailed series of notes.

8:02 a.m.: woke up. slept in, possibly related to alcohol consumption last night

- got dressed only after I gave him attention and stoked his ego; becoming habitual

- outfit appeared to have no rhyme or reason to it; possible sign of color blindness?

- made me wear a matching outfit for unspecified reasons

- strangled a servant on the way to breakfast for glancing at me for "too long"

- staring at me frequently during breakfast; may have finally taken note of what I'm doing

Doflamingo snaps the notebook closed and looks at the cover. Volume 18. His darling has been here for a month.

Him discovering what they're doing only emboldens his darling. Now they're even more blatant about studying him. They're straight up using a protractor to measure the angle his legs are at when he walks, and they take pictures of anything particularly odd that he does.

Doflamingo doesn't know if he's flattered or disturbed by the intense interest in him. Congratulations. You found a way to make Doflamingo uncomfortable.

[artstennisracket]

How about something inspired by the song "Picture you" by chapel roan? Patrick jerking off in a sad, sloppy way after seeing Art's face on some like sport supplies/banners idk

you know how to speak to me because music is my ultimate muse. i hadn’t listened to this song on the album yet but it is very artrick coded. i hope you like it :)

cw: nsfw(18+), masturbation, dacryphillia(maybe? idk)

Honestly Patrick has given up trying to avoid Art and Tashi Donaldson. Art risen in the ranks of the tennis world since finishing at Stanford. It became apparent that Tashi becoming his coach had a big part to play in his success. It was no surprise that they got married shortly after that. They’ve been the ultimate tennis power couple ever since.

If it wasn’t tennis matches on TV, it was adidas commercials. If it wasn’t a billboard, it was a magazine ad. The truth of the matter is, Patrick can’t avoid them. More specifically, Art. He’s the one in all the things, everywhere. He is the athlete after all.

So Patrick shouldn’t be surprised when he walks into Dick’s to buy a new racket and the employee shows him a few different options.

“These are our best rackets.” The employee says, pointing to the only 3 rackets with Art’s face on it.

Now Patrick had been saving up for a while to get a new racket. He wanted to stop playing games and start actually playing tennis again. Real tennis. Not this bullshit he’s been doing these past years.

He still didn’t want to ask his parents for money or a seat on the board so settled for getting a job to somewhat fund his lifestyle. He became a barista at a local coffee shop and picked up shifts when he wasn’t playing tennis.

He wanted a good racket, one that would last him a long time. He wanted the best of the best, a Wilson Blade 98. Art Donaldson just so happens to be sponsored by Wilson. So who else would be the face of their pro tennis racket line?

Patrick follows the employee to the front register where he purchases his new Wilson racket that has Art’s face all over it.

He makes it back to his tiny show box apartment. It was all he could afford in this expensive ass city. He takes his shoes off and starts putting his stuff away.

He decides to take a shower. Afterwards he comes out the bathroom and closes the blinds in his rooms and lights his favorite candle. What he can’t like a little ambiance? There was also a lingering smell in his apartment since he took too long to take out the garbage today. He then lays down onto his bed. He’s staring up at the ceiling really contemplating his life. How different his life would’ve been if he listened to Tashi? If she never got injured that day? He thinks about that last part alot. He always wishes he was still in their lives.

Especially Art.

He was Art’s best friend for so long he forgot who he was before Art. They did everything together. And Patrick was in love with him from the day they met. That’s what made fighting over Tashi that much hotter (harder).

He looks over at the kitchen table, since his studio apartment is so tiny. That’s where he placed his new racket, Art’s face staring right back at him. Fuck why does he still look so good after all these years, if no better.

He looks so mature now, like a real adult. He’s completely grown into his adult muscular build thanks to all that tennis. He wasn’t the same scrawny shy blonde kid Patrick met over a decade ago now.

Patrick doesn’t think twice bringing his hand to his semi-hard dick, palming himself over his boxer briefs.

Fuck Art looks good. Really fucking good. Patrick closes his eyes to recall the last tennis match of Art’s he watched. It was on the tennis channel.

Art was wearing those short white tennis shorts and matching polo (thank you uniqlo) and he looked fucking delectable. Patrick would bend him over right on that tennis court in front of everyone, show them who Art really belongs too.

Patrick was full on touching himself now, jerking off at full pace. This is so fucked. Why is he jerking off to his childhood best friend?

Art has always looked good and this isn’t the first time Patrick’s jerked off to him and it probably won’t be the last. Patrick would do anything to see Art again, give himself another chance. He knows what him and Art had was real even if Art couldn’t see past his internalized homophobia at the time. Fuck, he wants to get on his knees and suck Art’s cock so bad, letting Art’s length hit the back of throat.

He wonders is Art still thinks of him, of the time they jerked off together. He wonders if Art thinks of him when he sleeps with Tashi. Or maybe when Tashi uses her strap on Art. Maybe she pulls his hair and asks who he’s really thinking about. And maybe he’d moan “Patrick” before even realizing what he’s saying.

Patrick feels the tears running down his face before his brain can register that he’s crying. He cums shortly after that but the tears don’t stop. He misses Art, he really does. He used to play tennis with Art in person, watch all Art’s matches in person. Now he has to settle for a TV screen. Just lurking from afar.

He feels like Art’s completely grown up and he doesn’t even know him anymore. He wonders if Art still thinks about him. Or if Art felt the same.

I guess he’ll never know.

[neiptune]

et nunc et semper

cw: NSFT, 3k+ wc, female reader, ancient rome au, slavery, mentions of violence, sexual exploitation, power imbalance, intercourse, fingering, reader has greek origins, sae is head of the most gorgeous domus and you, a slave, eventually become his favorite concubine. one that just so happens to fall in love with the person, other than his brother, sae confides in the most: his most trusted slave, oliver

Sae is a good dominus.

When his brother sold you to him, grown bored and easily irritated after so many years of service, you were expecting complete and utter disinterest at best. However, prepared just in case you wouldn’t be as lucky once more, you also braced yourself for the worse scenarios: corporal punishments, torture, sexual exploitation. Rin’s kindness had always rested in his complete indifference and when he announced you were to be sent away, you spent entire nights awake, praying his brother would be just as merciful.

Against all odds, however, Sae grew fond of you. As soon as he learned you were able to speak Greek, he summoned you to his tablinum. You knew being one of the most trusted advisors to the emperor came with immeasurable privileges and richness, something you were reminded each day you spent in that domus: not even Rin’s residency had as many elaborate marble decorations and paneling, grandiose paintings and a garden one could very well get lost in.

The tablinium is where very few slaves are allowed, only the ones Sae trusts enough to let into the room he receives his clients in. The first time you stepped inside, well aware of teal eyes studying your every movement, you tried not to appear too fascinated by the walls decorated with such rich fresco pictures, nor by the busts of the Itoshi family arranged on pedestals on the other end of the room.

However, you couldn’t help yourself. You were born a slave but your parents were not: your mother was Greek, could read and write, made it a point to teach you both Latin and her native language. Back then you thought you’d never get to see Piraeus firsthand, hence why you were so drawn to the unusual frescoes Sae chose for his study. Aesop’s fables, represented so beautifully you raised your hand with the intention of tracing outlines you wouldn’t even be allowed to observe in a different household.

“Read for me”, Sae said that afternoon, shaking you from your stupor. He pushed a scroll towards you and it was surprising to suddenly discover his interest in science and philosophy. You were there, standing by his chair for hours, reading Anaximander’s theories and studies out loud, until the room grew dark and your voice hoarse.

It became a daily appointment: each evening, you knew your master’s expectations was to find you in the tablinum right after dinner. Never one to sleep much, sometimes he’d keep you there the entire night, your voice the only sound in a household where slaves were barely allowed to speak if their master happened to be around. You read for him without eating, drinking or sleeping, and when the sun would rise you were simply sent back to your duties.

And then, suddenly, he started asking questions too. What did you think of Aristotle, Herodotus, Plutarch? Was his pronunciation beyond saving? When you switched to poetry, Sae allowed you to sit next to him, so that he could follow along, eyes focused on your finger as it grazed each verse, to make it easier for him. He scoffed at Aristophanes’ comedy, which you suspect was a way to hide actual amusement. He enjoyed Sophocles and his tragedies. Then, he enjoyed watching you, the first time you read lyric poetry for him.

“It’s supposed to be accompanied by music, isn’t it?”, he asked, eyes boring into yours. You just lowered your head further and apologized, briefly stated that you didn’t want to sing for him without asking for permission first. Sae granted that permission.

He started touching you, a gentle brush of the fingers at first, to make sure your hair didn’t hide your profile from him. He’d then grasp your chin and tilt your head back to make sure you looked at him while detailing your impressions over a piece you’d just read. You never grew tense under his touch, not even when he’d grab your jaw if your tone got too low or you paused to clear your throat in the middle of a sentence. You did whatever was expected of you. Let him part your legs and sneak a hand underneath your tunic, obeyed when he ordered you didn’t stop reading as he touched you.

Like his brother, Sae grows restless easily and your submissive nature ended up irritating him. You were a little too unfazed, a little too good at carrying on, as if he wasn’t making a wet mess of you with his expert dexterity.

And so he ordered you’d kiss him, crawled onto his lap with your legs spread wide open for him, gasped and moaned and whined into his mouth. Loud, for all to hear. He wasn’t rough, perhaps it was the most gentle you’d ever been touched by a man, by a dominus. He’d take you right there, on his lap, on the table, on the floor. With time, you learned what he liked. On some days, you were allowed boldness: whispers to his ear of how good he felt, how much you desired him, more than any other man as no one could ever compare. Your fingers would card through his hair and pull at the soft strands right as he throbbed inside you, buried so deep you felt him in your throat as tears he’d lick away stained your cheeks. You’d keep your nails clean for he liked it when you scratched his back, you’d gently bite the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

And then, on some other days, you’d let him use you as he pleased, mouth shut, legs parted. He’d be stressed, angry, sometimes too irritated by either his marriage or matters of politics you’d never understand. You were always there for him, far from being the only slave he fucked, but certainly an interesting exception Sae didn’t want to get rid of and instead kept by his side most nights, in his personal bedroom, arms around your body pressed close to his as he softly asked you’d speak to him in your language.

You thought you could fall in love with him, you really did. He’d bring you with him on his travels and you’d find yourself missing him whenever he’d be back to his main residence, where his wife was. Where his children were. Sae would always come back with gifts, still does, and you know his affection has never been less than sincere. Being his favorite concubine means being draped in a cloak of newfound protectiveness, it means being owned social respect. It means being special. He sees you as more than a slave kept as sexual luxury, he cares about you. Wouldn’t that be enough to make a woman fall in love?

And then, one day, Sae came back and brought his most trusted servant with him. One you had never met before.

While you’d occasionally be with him during journeys or whenever he’d retreat to his country house for a couple of weeks during the summer, Oliver was always by Sae’s side. His mother was Sae and Rin’s father’s slave, he was born in their household and is Sae’s domestic worker. Oliver carries out a range of duties: cleans, prepares food in the kitchens, delivers missives. He’s probably the man, other than his own brother, Sae trusts the most in this life. They have a relationship intimate enough for him to keep Oliver as a secretary and an accountant too. He was the one asking his father to pay for a slave’s education, to make sure he could serve him better. You can imagine the affection he has for Oliver runs deep enough to grant him freedom from ownership, one day.

It was your demise and greatest stroke of luck. You never in a million years could’ve imagined how frail the equilibrium you were relying on was, a crimson thread mercilessly severed by a single touch of his fingers. It was desperate, the way you were drawn to him. When he talks, when he looks at you, you feel like a person and not a possession. A dangerous thought to have, and yet.

The days spent helping him in the kitchens, in the garden, the afternoons you’d catch glimpses of him laughing with other servants, all the times you were forced to be on Sae’s lap while he sat across from you, detailing the latest information about his most pressing affairs, eyes only daring searching yours when your master would be deeply focused on a document or a letter. Oliver had such a way of carrying himself, with a dignity you’d never seen in a slave. He wore a perpetual mask of neutral detachment with his master but when Sae would leave, on the fortunate occasions when he wouldn’t be around and all the eyes and ears of the residency could be considered far enough to grant you enough intimacy, Oliver could drop the act his life depended on.

He’s smart, curious by nature. Speaks Greek with a better accent than your master’s and yet still comically distorts some words, which makes you laugh. He’s knowledgeable about horticulture and spends hours curating the gardens surrounded by the peristylium each day, you’d often observe him from the patio as he tended to violets, saffron, thyme, rosemary, carnations. With expert hands that would leave no place for doubt should another slave or the master himself have noticed, he once plucked a rose and bowed as he offered it to you. A slave bowing to another slave. It made your heart flutter.

You hated yourself for desiring him, not because your mere existence revolved around the axiom of any individual desire being forever forbidden, but because your selfishness could cost him much more than his freedom. If Sae so much as imagined Oliver touching you, he could’ve claimed his life and yours with a light snap of the fingers. 

You didn’t care about your life, not really, but his held so much value. He was about to be freed, there was too much at stake for you to ruin everything.

Oliver is infuriating and stubborn, any attempt at avoiding him went up in smoke as he was just as desperately drawn to you and refused to give up on the one thing he ever wished for himself. Whatever he would do of his freedom with no one to share it with. You had insinuated yourself in his heart like dripping water that hollows out stone and for once in his life he, a person who wasn’t allowed to own anything but his feelings, felt alive.

And yet, he waited, persistence confined by respectful boundaries Oliver never once forced you to cross. He waited, exasperating, confident, beautiful in a way that made you wish there were marble statues and saturnalia dedicated to him. In a way that made Sae dull, someone you couldn’t hold anything but gratitude and affection for. A man you could never love the way you loved Oliver, a man you’d never kiss for the first time on your own accord, brief and sweet in the middle of the night, by the kitchen. You remember his eyes and how dangerously beautiful the moonlight reflected in them was, how searing the second touch of his lips felt against yours, the way he’d silently asked for permission he didn’t need, the uncertainty swarming in those eyes almost bringing you to tears.

You didn’t know what being asked for consent meant and you had no idea what choosing to lie with a man would do, how different the pleasure would feel. Despite being uncomfortably taken against the wall, it was the first time you ejoyed sex. Even on exceptional days when Sae would care about your pleasure too, it always felt like making you finish was a stubborn challenge he’d test himself with. Another proof of his ability, void of any sincere care.

Oliver was different. He strokes your skin with genuine tenderness, never chases his own high without making sure you’re feeling good too, without being absolutely certain he isn’t hurting you somehow, or being unintentionally too rough. Some nights he’d drop to his knees, a servant serving you, making you fall apart on his tongue without ever looking away from your face, so beautiful when contorted in pleasure. He’d catch you when you wouldn’t be able to stand any longer, gently lay your trembling body on the hard ground and push your tunic further up, to be able to still look at you before diving in once more. He wouldn’t ask for anything more on those nights, kissing your palm tenderly when you offered to grant him relief too.

“Get some rest”, he’d whisper against your lips before leaving you cold and alone once more. 

Neither of you expected Sae to free you first.

One day, he’d summoned you to the triclinium, the magnificent dining room where he receives his illustrious guests. Oliver was there, standing by the entrance, expression neutral and eyes never daring finding yours. Rin was there too, reclined on his left side on soft cushions while other slaves served him courses of fruits and warm, sweet wine.

“Lie with me”, Sae’s order surprised you: it wasn’t rare for him to keep you close in front of clients, friends or other servants but members of his family were his only drawn line. Obedient, you positioned yourself in front of him, propped on one elbow on the same couch. 

“She’s worth much more than the amount I paid you, brother”, he murmured into your skin, one hand lazily pushing your tunic to your hips.

Oliver’s love had changed you. Made Sae’s touch intolerable, newfound feelings of guilt and shame churning in the pit of your stomach for the very first time. You didn’t wish for his fingers to explore your skin, you didn’t want Rin to watch, or worse, claim his own fair share.

“What, just because you made her your Greek whore?”, the mockery, for the first time, hurts you. These feelings could get you killed.

“Be respectful of my Greek whore”, Sae buried his face into the crook of your neck and you stayed frozen, “she’s also my liberta, now”.

Your breath hitched in your throat and he chuckled, pulling you possessively against him with an arm around your waist. A liberta. A freedwoman.  

Rin’s scoff didn’t faze you.

“Look at me”, Sae’s grasp on your throat burned as he tilted your head backwards and spoke against your mouth, “you are free. I wish to keep you with me as your patronus. Will you stay?”.

For a moment, you feared you might not be able to speak, too overwhelmed by feelings interlaced within you like both ribbons and snakes.

“You honor me”, you were finally able to whisper.

In a way, this was everything you could ever wish for and the worst thing to ever happen to you. It was perfectly clear what being freed meant: you would forever owe him eternal gratutide and reverence. He made sure you’d remain in a legally defined position of obligation for your entire life, a bond that would last forever. You had never felt more trapped.

“Oliver, serve some wine to your mistress”, Sae’s gaze never left yours as he quietly ordered. Your heart squeezed painfully as you kissed him, doing everything in your power to keep your focus on your patron and nothing else.

Now, on nights like this, when you lie tangled in warm sheets with your lover, you’re even more dreadfully aware of what’s at stake. His freedom, your freedom. Both your heads, probably.

This bedroom in Sae’s domus now belongs to you, along with all the valuable possessions within it. He provides financially for you and finally grants your most intimate moments their due privateness. His slaves are your slaves, you are free to wander around the house as you please, accompany him publicly for everyone to see. Rin once said he’d never seen him treat his own wife with such devotion and Sae simply pulled you closer in response.

“This one’s different”.

He loves you, you know he does. When you read for him the world stops, Rome and perhaps the entire empire dissipating into thin smoke. His own dimension ruled by your voice alone, eyes shut when the pads of your gentle fingers explore him, lips he would start wars for.

But all that ceases to exist when you’re in Oliver’s arms, his nose grazing your neck, the deep rumble of his voice vibrating in a chest pressed to yours.

“Does he hurt you?”, you ask and he peels his weight away from your body, propping himself on one elbow by your side instead.

“No”, he replies quietly and smiles when you reach to grab his other arm and place it around your waist. You then hum, fingers tracing scars you’re familiar with. Faded marks on his chest, his back, his shoulder and arm. Oliver’s gaze softens at your unspoken worry.

“His father”, is the explanation he offers, “Sae never touched me”. His thumb starts stroking the skin above your hip and you sigh, relieved, melting into him like you always do.

“Does he ever hurt you?”, the question makes you chuckle but Oliver is serious, scowl getting deeper.

“No”.

“Does it feel good? Does it feel the same?”.

His hand disappears underneath the sheets and you jolt weakly against him when knuckles graze your bare skin before fingers start collecting the slick that still trickles out of your spent hole. You take his face in your hands and pull him closer to make sure he looks at you, not wanting your next words to sound as if you’re only speaking under the effect of the pleasure he’s providing.

“Never. It could never-”, a gasp when he dips one finger inside you, “it will never”.

For the following minutes, the only sounds in the room are your soft whimpers against his mouth and the increasingly wet, lewd noises produced by his fingers, the increasingly restless roll of your hips barely able to meet movements that drive you insane.

“I love you”, he murmurs, a low groan bubbling up from his throat when he curls his fingers and you see stars, muffle a moan into his neck, one hand closing around his wrist and nails digging into his skin. You’re still shaking when he pulls you into his chest, brings one of your legs around his hips. There’s a familiar hardness pressing against you and you tentatively rub yourself against it, face hidden into the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“I will buy you”, you whisper, “I will buy you from him and set you free”.

Oliver stills your movements with a gentle hold of your hips, his other hand stroking the small of your back. Having you close is, once more, enough.

“He will never sell me”.

“Then you should stop seeing me. He will grant you freedom one day but if he ever finds out…”.

“What an absurd suggestion”, a quiet laugh shakes him, “giving up on the one thing that gives my life meaning at all”.

“He’ll take your life, Oliver. You could die because of me”.

“Then so be it. I would die after having lived”.

You pull back and meet his only half playful gaze.

“Don’t mock me. And don’t you dare leave me alone in this life”.

“Is that a request or an order, mistress?”.

Your groan elicits a chuckle. Oliver kisses the crown of your head, wraps his fingers in your hair.

“He owns my freedom, everything else is yours. I don’t fear punishment, only an existence void of you”, he speaks in Greek, attentively, and your heart throbs painfully once more. You kiss him, soft and gentle, then decide to be just as playful while your thumb delicately grazes the portion of skin underneath his eye.

“Really?”, you also ask in Greek, “I heard rumors of his wife requesting to lie with you. Does that feel the same?”.

He offers a boyish smile, gently bumping his forehead against yours.

“You’re ridiculous”.

“Not a very convincing answer”.

Oliver sighs.

“It feels like nothing, woman”.

You hum, feigning pensiveness.

“They say she’s beautiful”.

“She is”.

“Just so you know, this conversation is not going well for you”.

Oliver chuckles, lowers his head to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. He stays here, lips brushing against yours, in hopes you’ll swallow his next words and let them take root in every crevice of your body. Maybe then you’ll believe him.

“Aphrodite herself wouldn’t be a match for you”.

“Flatterer”, you whisper, amused. It’s not lost on you, the way he intentionally used her Greek name instead of naming her Roman counterpart, Venus.

Oliver smiles, taking a second to observe features already carved into his very soul. He cups your cheek and thinks he wouldn’t mind dying like this, with you turning your head enough to press your lips to his wrist, eyes softened by sincere adoration.

“In love”, he corrects.

[lura-valentine]

This is my little Dabi ABC about how I rate him in a relationship. It helps me with my fanfictions when I write about Dabi and Rain or DabiHawks.

Maybe it will help some people who write similar fanfics, or maybe some will get a better picture of what Dabi is like in a relationship.

Unfortunately, I'm missing three letters and don't know what to write about them😑 I hope you like it anyway.

Please note that English is not my first language. So forgive me for mistakes

----------

Dabi's relationship ABC

A – Affectionate: Dabi is neither tender nor loving... or? He can do it if he wants to, but he doesn't do it often and if he does, then only when he is alone with his partner.

B – Broken Man: Dabi's past has left scars on him - both physically and mentally. To be his partner means to accept his brokenness, to accept him as he is with all his facets.

C – Confident: He has a strong confidence that is both seductive and intimidating. The dominance he exudes is unmistakable and makes certain things more complicated for his partner than they should be.

D – Disinterest?: He doesn't seem to care about anything and doesn't seem to worry about anything. Everyone often thinks that they never listen, but their partner will quickly realize that they pay attention to every detail.

E – Empathetic: He hides it very, very well, but he suffers in silence with his partner when they are emotionally troubled. This is one of the few moments where he briefly lets down his walls and shows tenderness. (Depending on the situation, of course)

F – Fiery temperament: Dabi’s temper matches his flames—intense and quick to ignite. He’s passionate in every aspect of his life, and while it can lead to heated arguments, it also fuels the deep intensity of the relationship.

G – Guarded: Dabi finds it difficult to talk about his feelings. It takes patience and trust to break through its walls, but when someone succeeds, their love is unconditional.

H – Honest: He won't sugarcoat anything. Dabi will always tell his partner the truth, even when it's hard.

I – Independent: Dabi values his freedom and independence, but he would compromise for his partner.

J – Jealousy: He is prone to jealousy, even if he never admits it openly. One wrong look from others is enough to trigger his protective instinct.

K – Kindness: Dabi isn't friendly, but that doesn't mean he can't be. He shows it very subtly by bringing his partner his favorite drink or keeping his partner warm on cold nights.

L – Love: He loves deeply, even if he struggles to show it. He would do anything for his partner, even if he had to make a fool of himself. (Perhaps he would even renounce his revenge...?)

M – Mysterious: Dabi remains an enigma, even for his partner... and that's exactly what makes him so fascinating.

N – Night Owl: Dabi tends to thrive at night, finding comfort in the quiet darkness. He enjoys spending long nights with his partners. Whether it's talking, watching a movie together or cuddling on the sofa. His favorite hobby at night is watching his partner sleep and keeping him warm when needed.

O – Obsessive: Just as Dabi once craved his father’s attention, he may become deeply fixated on earning and keeping his partner’s affection. His intensity can be overwhelming but stems from his fear of being abandoned again.

P – Passionate: Whatever Dabi sets his mind to, he does it with unwavering passion. Whether it’s chasing his ambitions with relentless determination or kissing his partner with fiery intensity, his actions are always filled with raw, unfiltered emotion. His passion makes every moment with him unforgettable, as he pours his whole heart into what truly matters to him.

Q – Quiet Moments: In quiet moments, he likes to put an arm around his partner or stroke his partner's hand with his thumb while they hold hands. When he's completely relaxed, he doesn't care at all that they're not alone.

R – Rebellion: Dabi is the epitome of rebellion. His resistance to norms and authority carries over into the relationship and makes everything complicated.

S – Sarcasm: Dabi's dry humor and sharp tongue are a big part of his personality. However, his sarcasm can sometimes cut a little too deep, especially when he’s in a bad mood or trying to deflect his own emotions. He doesn't always realize the impact of his words, but when he hurts his partner, he apologizes in his own way – looks for closeness and is particularly attentive.

T – Trust Issues: His past makes it difficult for him to trust. It will take a lot from Dabi's partner to fully gain his trust. But if someone makes it, he will be as loyal as a dog.

U – Unpredictable: Life with Dabi is anything but routine. His mercurial nature means you never know what to expect - one moment he's teasing you and the next he's lost in his own dark thoughts. Loving him means accept that wild side while finding stability in the rare, quiet moments he only shares with his partner. Because of him, his partner suddenly gets into dangerous fights or suddenly lies in his arms on the grass to watch the stars together.

V – Vulnerable: It is extremely rare for this to happen, but in certain situations its walls collapse. These moments are raw, unadulterated and show his partner the man behind the scars – The young Touya, who died in the fire at that time.

W –: /

X –: /

Y - Yearning: Beneath his tough exterior, Dabi longs for connection and love, even if he doesn't know how to express it.

Z –: /

Should I make a relationship ABC with Hawks?

If so, feel free to write it to me in the comments😊

[hypertextdog]

never learned what fae is but the worst spiritual american atheist i ever met would always say they dont *really* believe in any of this tarot and astrology bullshit (which they would practice anyway) but theyd never NEVER actually fuck with fae, that shit was all too real, and i shouldnt fuck with them either, it was a good thing i didnt even know what they are (this idiot [me] thinks they're basically just fairies ... please!) 'cause they operated on slenderman rules where the more you know, the more danger you're in. so this all left me with a latent curiosity but i never did look until today, less out of fear and more because i was more than willing to minimize the number of subjects i had in common with this person -- so i lived on never knowing what that was, never looking it up either, just seeing posts from time to time from, like, monster-fucker types with headcanons about them (which seemed to cleverly skirt that info-hazard principle.) so imagine my shock when today i finally do cave and look up the word "fae" and the top result is a fandom wikia page. and the second result is the wikipedia page for fairy

[catcomixzstudios]

I can barely begin to express how much the course of my life has been altered because of a 40 minute highlight video done by @jelloapocalypse and friends riffing over a 20 year old sky pirate game.

I made an off-handed comment after watching it together with two of my longtime friends, about how much I wish I had what Vyrsa had, and one of those friends STRAIGHT-UP TELLS ME that her and her wife have been crushing on me for a while.

The feeling was mutual, though I'd been of course hesitant to even hint at it.

Anyway now a few months later, we're a thruple, and we decided to honor the genesis of our relationship by cosplaying as the trio that made it a reality for my 30th birthday!

PinkCatNinja, me (CatComixzStudios), and ArtieStokes as Aika, Vyce Vyrsa, and Fina respectively, from SKIES OF ARCADIA!

And as a bonus, a comment I left on the video before my egg would crack completely (was still IDing as genderfluid at the time)

[sweetshelluvaau]

Is it me or does it feel like the show is making everyone in Blitzo's life (minus Fizz and Oz. for now at least) hate him/think little of him all because the show seems to have a hate boner and likes to victim blame him? It even feels as if it's written as every one in IMP even hates him now and it's kinda gross honestly considering that for all the reasons for people to be upset at Blitzo for, and for good reasons: him 'wornging' Stolas is not one of them.

Also it feels like the show just wants to beat down Blitzo until he reaches his breaking point and then breaks him down more and more and I'm sorry if the show is about wanting Blitzo grow as a person that's not how you get there.

People get better and change when they're being lifted up not beaten down. Not saying you shouldn't call out Blitzo's behavior, you should he's an asshole at times but he's already a self destructive mess and knows it. And even for all that dickwardry, he does CARE and the show SHOWS us that supposed to TELLING us like they're doing with Stolas when we've seen him do nothing but guilt trip, manipulate and treat those lower than him like shit. He even negligent his own daughter.

Blitzo cares. He cares about his employees, his friends, his family and in a sad way, even for Stolas though not in a romantic way more than he's trying to keep him 'happy' so he doesn't lose his business and livelihood. If he didn't care he wouldn't have gone through all the work in 'spicing up' their sex lives.

So why is the show making it seem like Blitzo is in the wrong for sharing how he feels yet has every right to feel as frustrated and used as he does. But no, he's a monster because he made the creator pet cry.

Srsly fuck you Viviziepop.

(on a less ranty note: I have to give credit where credit is due that Brandon Rogers can act! No matter how bad the emotional moments are written at times (which is most), he still sells it.)

[berryblooo]

Scaramona (as in the Harbinger, Scaramouche, and Mona) will always be the blueprint for the bickering, the clash of beliefs and worldviews, but more and more I come to love and appreciate Wandermona.

As the Wanderer, he’s now had to confront his previously held notions, to challenge his sense of self and his place in the world. He is discovering who he can be in this second chance he’s been given.

Mona’s story is still just beginning. Like Scaramouche, she has a very defined sense of self—genius astrologist, set on surpassing her master. I believe that also like Scaramouche, she will be forced to confront her worldviews when they are thrown back in her face (“The stars, the sky… it’s all a gigantic hoax. A lie.”) and have to redefine herself with this new knowledge.

Where Scaramona was about bickering and clashing ideals, I see Wandermona has an opportunity for discovery, reflection, overcoming. Traveling Teyvat together is one of my favorite headcanons (it’s almost a motif for me at this point) for them, and it suits Wandermona even more than Scaramona.

Mona and the Wanderer, trekking across the seven nations, sleeping under the stars, stopping by every bookstore and library to read, arguing about academics and the nature of fate and self-determination.

[greengoblinswifey]

Temple— Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— they always say “your body is a temple” and boy is nicholas’ body a temple you love to climb and worship.

warnings— PURE SMUT. fingering, hand job, oral(m receiving), unprotected sex, mirror play, spit kink, praise kink, degrading kink, body worship, ass slapping, choking, creampie, daddy kink, breeding kink, cum eating, rough sex, aftercare, fluff.

a/n— ovulating and wrote this based on these pictures because he looks so good, ugh, i NEED him. (not prof read)

You were wandering the aisles of your favorite boutique, surrounded by the chatter of other shoppers. Just as you picked up a cute dress, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You fished it out, expecting a simple text, but what you saw made your breath hitch and your pussy throb.

Nicholas had sent you a picture of himself shirtless, standing in his bathroom with the light cascading down his chiseled abs, his hair slightly damp and tousled and then one with the hat you gifted him on. He looked incredible, his physique had transformed since you first started dating for his new roles, becoming more defined and muscular, and it left you utterly speechless.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip as heat pooled in your core. God, he looks good. You remembered when you first met him, he was charming and sweet, and you loved him just as he was then. But this new version of him? It ignited something deep within you. It was as if every sculpted muscle was begging for your attention, and all you could think about was how much you needed him inside you, pounding you.

The dress you were holding suddenly felt heavier as you clutched it tighter, trying to maintain your composure in the middle of the store. Your thighs clenched instinctively, and you could feel the flush creeping up your cheeks. How was it possible for someone to look that good? You found yourself blushing, desperately trying to focus on the price tags in front of you, but your mind was racing with thoughts of him.

You quickly typed back, your fingers trembling as you tried to keep it casual. “Wow, what are you trying to do to me?” You hit send, your heart racing with anticipation. He was always playful, but this felt different, this felt more personal, more intimate.

As you made your way to the cash register, you could still see him in your mind, his body the definition of perfection. You swiped his card without a second thought, the thrill of using his money adding to your excitement. If only he were here right now. You imagined him behind you, his hands resting on your hips, whispering sweet nothings as you paid.

Your thoughts swirled with desire, longing to feel his warmth against your skin, to wrap your arms around him and pull him in close. His body was a temple, you thought, it was a holy site you craved to explore.

With a final glance at the dress in your hands, you decided to head home, your mind set on what would happen once you got there. You needed him, and you could already envision the fire igniting between you two as soon as you walked through the door.

As you rushed through the front door, adrenaline surged through you. You barely took the time to drop your shopping bags before you heard the unmistakable sound of the shower turning off.

You quietly made your way down the hallway, the steam still lingering in the air, and as you approached the bathroom, you caught a glimpse of him stepping out, droplets of water glistening on his perfectly chiseled body. Nicholas looked like a god, one you craved to worship, his muscles taut and glistening under the dim light, every curve and contour accentuated.

You leaned against the doorframe, mesmerized, your breath catching in your throat. This was everything you’d imagined and more. He dried himself off with a towel, completely unaware of your presence, and for a moment, you relished the view, every single inch of him was a work of art.

But you were done watching. The heat radiating from your core was too strong to ignore, and all rational thoughts slipped away. Without a second thought, you slipped out of your clothes, leaving yourself bare and vulnerable in the dim light.

The chill of the air contrasted sharply with the heat building inside you, but it only fueled your desire further. You stepped into the bathroom, your heart pounding, and when he finally turned to face you, his eyes widened in surprise and hunger.

“Nicholas,” you breathed, your voice thick with need. You stepped closer, the space between you two disappearing as the urgency of the moment enveloped you.

“Hey baby— oh shit.”

His towel dropped to the floor, forgotten, and in that instant, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, raw, exposed, and yearning for each other.

“Oh god, I need you so bad,” you whined, your body pressed against his as you desperately kissed him all over his chest and tipped to meet his cheeks and lips.

Nicholas pulled you close, laughter in his eyes as he felt your warmth enveloping him. “What’s gotten into you, pretty baby?” he teased, a playful grin spreading across his face.

You looked up at him, your heart racing as you felt the heat radiating off his body. “Look at you,” you replied, your voice breathless. “Walking around here looking like this, sending me pictures of you shirtless… God, what do you expect?”

With a mischievous smile, you moved behind him, admiring his tall, muscular frame in the mirror. You couldn’t help but caress his abs, fingers tracing the defined lines, marveling at the way his body felt under your touch. He threw his head back in pleasure, a low groan escaping his lips as your hands explored him.

The atmosphere shifted, the playful banter giving way to something more primal. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body responded to your every caress. His thick, long cock was painfully hard now , and you could sense the need in him building, mirroring your own.

You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him gently as you both stared into the mirror. The sight was mesmerizing, his face contorting with pleasure, the way he fell apart under your touch, completely lost in the moment.

As you continued, you watched him unravel, utterly captivated by how hot he was, how perfectly he fit into your desires.

“Look at yourself daddy, I’m making you feel so good, you look so fucking sexy,” you panted, speeding up your movements.

You bit your lip as you felt him jump and throb in your hands, everything he did made you feral. Then, with a shudder and a low moan, you felt the warmth spill onto your hand, a testament to the electric connection between you two.

“Open your eyes,” you demanded. They fluttered open and he watched in the mirror as you sucked his cum from off your fingers before lifting them up to his lips making him taste what was left of himself. He hummed in content, the sound going straight to your pussy but you would deal with that problem soon.

“No,” you said, determination lacing your voice as you looked up at him. “I need to give you more. I want to show you just how much I appreciate you.”

Slowly, you sank to your knees, eyes locked onto his as you let your tongue glide over his chest, savoring the taste of his skin. You trailed your tongue down to his abs, worshipping every ridge and contour. “You’re so beautiful,” you murmured, your voice low and sultry. “So sexy, Daddy.”

His breath hitched at your words, and you could see the effect you had on him, his body responding to your every move. You reached down, wrapping your hand around his cock again, feeling him harden beneath your touch.

“Look at how big you are,” you praised, your voice dripping with admiration. “So perfect in my hands.” You leaned closer, giving him a teasing lick, savoring the taste of him, and your eyes rolled back in pleasure at how good he tasted. “Mm, you taste amazing daddy.”

With that, you took him into your mouth, feeling him fill you completely. The sounds of his pleasure willed you on, and you began to move, sending him to the back of your throat, lost in the rhythm of worshipping him. “You taste so good,” you whispered between breaths, and Nicholas groaned, his hands tangling in your hair, urging you on.

“Just like that, baby,” he praised, his voice thick with desire. “You’re fucking incredible.”

You continued, letting his praises wash over you, and as you felt him hold your head down and cum down your throat, it was like fireworks exploded around you. You savored the moment, knowing you had brought him to this point of ecstasy.

You couldn’t help but smile as you looked up at him, feeling bold. With your fingers, you gathered the rest of his release from his hard cock and brought it to your mouth. You took it in, savoring the taste, and smeared it and your saliva over his chiseled abs. You couldn’t resist the urge to lick it all off, your body shuddering with each stroke of your tongue.

“God, you’re fucking perfect, y’know that?” he said, watching you with a mix of awe and desire. “I appreciate that, baby. But now, it’s my turn to make you feel good.”

He positioned you in front of him, hoisting one of your feet up onto the counter, giving him a better angle. “Open your mouth,” he commanded softly, and you complied eagerly, watching as he spat into your waiting mouth. You swallowed it happily, feeling the rush of satisfaction.

Nicholas trailed his finger down your body, stopping at your soaking wet pussy. As he slipped a finger inside you, you gasped, your body arching toward him instinctively. “Look at yourself in the mirror,” he instructed, his voice thick with lust. “Look how beautiful you are.”

You glanced up, eyes locking with your reflection. The sight of you, flushed and breathless, sent a thrill through you. Nicholas’ finger worked expertly inside you, curling just right, and the pleasure began to build. “That’s it, baby. You’re so beautiful when you come apart like this,” he praised, his gaze never leaving your face as he watched you surrender to the waves of ecstasy. “Let me see you feel good.”

With each movement of his fingers, the pleasure surged higher, and you found yourself lost in the sensation. “Daddy,” your moans filling the room as you finally reached your release, trembling under his touch.

“That’s it, I’ve got you baby, daddy’s got you,” he cooed, rubbing your clit fast as your body jolted and slowly came down from your high.

Nicholas trailed kisses down your neck and across your shoulders, his lips warm against your skin. “Look in the mirror, baby,” he murmured, his breath hot against you. You obeyed, your heart racing as you met your own gaze, feeling every kiss ignite your desire.

With a sudden, playful movement, he bent you over the counter, a sharp smack landing on your ass. “You look so sexy like this,” he teased, watching you wiggle your backside against him. You grinned back at him, biting your lip. “You look like a Greek god,” you shot back, and he smirked, pride flashing in his eyes.

“Oh yeah?” he replied, holding your neck gently but firmly, bringing you back against his chest. You arched into him, feeling his hard cock tease against you as he slipped inside, filling you completely.

He began to pound into you roughly, his grip on your neck ensuring you were locked onto his gaze in the mirror. “Keep those eyes on me,” he commanded, and when you felt the urge to close them, he shook you slightly. “Look at yourself!”

“Daddy, you feel so good,” you gasped, feeling the pleasure building inside you.

“Tell me more,” he urged, his voice thick with desire. “Tell me how fucking hot I am.”

You nodded, breathless, “You’re so hot, so beautiful. I love your body, daddy. I love how you look as you pound into me.”

“Such a dirty slut,” he teased, reveling in the sight of you enjoying every second. He rubbed your clit, sending shocks of pleasure coursing through you. “Look at yourself being fucked.”

With a loud moan, you surrendered to the man behind, your release washing over you as you cried out his name like it was the only word you knew.

Nicholas smirked, a glint in his eye. “I’m not done with you yet,” he declared, hoisting you up effortlessly, arms hooked under your legs. He turned you sideways, positioning you perfectly so you could watch him slam into you.

“Worship me,” he commanded, his voice deep and gravelly making you throb.

You felt a surge of excitement course through you, and you nodded, biting your lip as you gazed into his eyes. “You’re everything, Nicholas. So strong, so perfect,” you whispered, your heart racing at the power he held over you, “you’re so fucking beautiful, your body is a work of art.”

With each thrust, he drove deeper, filling you completely. “That’s it, baby. You know how to treat me right,” he growled, his tone playful yet commanding. “Show me how much you want me.”

You leaned forward, kissing him passionately, your hands roaming over his chiseled chest and arms. “I need you,” you breathed between kisses. “You feel so good. I can’t get enough daddy.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice thick with lust. “I want to see you cum again.”

You gasped as he hit that sweet spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. “Daddy!” you cried out, feeling yourself on the edge once more. “I’m so close!”

“Then let go for me,” he urged, his eyes locked on yours, watching as the ecstasy took over. “Worship your man, baby.”

With one final thrust, you felt the familiar rush of pleasure envelop you as you climaxed, a wave of satisfaction washing over you. “Nicholas!” you cried, and he groaned in response, losing himself in the moment as he held you close, his body trembling with the intensity of it all but still not releasing.

He didn’t let you go. Instead, he laid your body down on the counter just a little, your legs wrapped tightly around him as he pounded into you once more. The world flipped upside down as you caught your reflection in the mirror, his tall frame hovering above you. The sight of him, muscles glistening and face twisted in pleasure, made your head spin.

“Who’s your daddy?” he asked, his voice thick with desire, his hand firm around your neck, exerting just enough pressure to send shivers down your spine.

“You,” you gasped, barely able to catch your breath. “You look like a god, so so h-handsome.”

The feeling of being so close to him made you dizzy, and his relentless thrusts only intensified the sensation. “I’m gonna fill you up and breed you like a bitch,” he growled, and your body responded to his words, craving more.

“Please,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper as you gasped for air, but the urgency in your tone said everything. “I want it. I want you. I want your cum inside me!”

He smirked, the heat of his breath against your skin sending another wave of pleasure through you. “Since you think I’m so perfect, we’re gonna make the most perfect little babies,” he teased, pounding harder, deeper. You could feel the tension building as he brought you closer to the edge once more.

With a final, powerful thrust, he filled you completely, each pulse of his hot cum sending waves of ecstasy coursing through both of you. You felt him tremble against you as he held your neck tightly, ensuring you were looking at yourselves in the mirror.

As the high faded, exhaustion washed over you. He scooped you up into his arms, your head resting on his shoulder like a baby, ironic, considering what just happened. He brought a towel to clean you up, laying you gently on the bed, his lips trailing soft kisses across your skin.

“You did so good, baby,” he murmured, pride evident in his voice. “You took me so well. I’m so proud of you. You’re so perfect, princess.”

You cuddled into him, tracing circles on his pecs as you kissed his chest, savoring the warmth and safety of his embrace. In that moment, everything felt right, the world outside forgotten as you enjoyed the afterglow of what you had just shared.

[carebearbussy]

ᥫ᭡ thinking about heian era! sukuna having a heavy breeding kink, seemingly out of nowhere.

you bring up a mere idea at dinner, the conversation quickly turning normal, to you bringing up an idea he had never given a second thought to.

"do you ever want kids with me, 'kuna?"

you would ask him, innocently enough, a sickeningly sweet tone hidden beneath your words. but you would already know the answer to this question. he would look up at you, then back down at his food, annoyance pondering his mind. eating a slab of salmon sashimi, he took a bite, chewing slow enough to hint at his potential answer. placing down his chopsticks, he would look back up at you, scoffing to himself at your foolish inquiry.

"those small, annoying humans that require too much attention for their own good? no thank you, i have better things to attend to."

he says, focusing on the meal before him. but his thoughts soon get the best of him. and now that he thinks about it, he will need an heir eventually. and not only that, but what would you be like? as a mother specifically. you would require more attention than most of the time. which was something he secretly enjoyed indulging in, despite his negative reasoning towards infants. how would you look?

you would be more swollen than usual, you stomach would grow larger by day, your breasts will most definitely become more full by the day. the bigger picture, which was you, enticed him in a way. something about seeing you round with his child really had his head going.

and so thats how you ended up here, you knees tightly locked against your stomach, as sukuna absolutely plows into your already stuffed cunt.

this was the seventh time? eighth time? at this point, you couldn't keep track. but he had came wayyyy too many times more than an average man should be able to. it was excruciating, really, the whimpers leaving your mouth, his hands bringing your knees closer to your chest with every move of his hips.

his seed was leaking out of you, glop by glop, dripping down your bottom even more, as he kept going harder and rougher. splashes of your juices paired with his cum stained the bed, the squelching of your pussy becoming deafening with every smack of his heavy balls against the rim of your ass. and the tight grip he had on your locks wasn't helping his case.

"hah, you're gonna give your king his offspring? yeah? r' you gonna be a good little mother f'me? make me an heir?"

he asks, your head barely able to focus on anything other than trying to stay sane. you felt sooo full, but this apparently wasn't enough for sukuna, or his heavy urges to breed your sloppy cunt. you nod eagerly, not wanting him to go any harder than he already has. but with the way he kept abusing your womb, it seemed like you were enjoying it, as sukuna relishes in your facial expression, your eyes rolling back, your mouth hung open wide enough to stuff two of his free fingers in.

"you'd be such a good mother, so obedient too. you wanted to rile me up, didn't you? i'll give you what you want, woman."

moaning into his fingers, you swirl your tongue around his digits, making him hum contently. you try to focus your vision onto his eyes, but the way he pushed his chest further into yours, had you practically cross eyed. hitting a new angle, you felt yourself completely let go, officially adding onto your list of orgasms you had previously had that night.

he released his fingers from your mouth, a coat of your saliva stringing upon release. he ceases to pull out of you, instead letting himself nuzzle nicely into your warmth, releasing yet again inside of you, earning a whine of complaint on your behalf. he playfully slaps your cheek with his wet hand, trailing it down to your pussy, playing in the ring of his semen around his cock. you squirm slightly, as you watch him then bring his cum coated fingers up to your mouth, pushing them back inside your mouth, making you taste his seed, some of his cum pooling around your lips.

"does that taste good? i bet it does, since you seem to love my seed so much. i cant wait to see you so full, besides from right now, of course."