#this was supposed to be a fast doodle and look at me

[biorust-art]

Dorian Storm, first heir to the Silken Squall

-- having a wonderful time here in the Dorian fanclub lol

[Image Description: A drawing of Dorian Storm from Critical Role in an imagined outfit. Dorian has a gold band around his head like a crown with his hair folded within it inspired by an ancient Greek hairstyle, it flows before him and ends in cloud-like curls. He wears a white, high collared vest with golden emborder of leaves on the outer edges and a bird with golden feathers in the front. The hem of the vest is asymmetrical with one side longer than the other and going down towards his thigh. Underneath the vest is a blue quilted gambeson and under that is a light gold chiffon shirt with billowing sleeves that are gathered at the lower arm with leather armbands. he has a blue half cape made with the same cape in his original art and a silver pauldron over that same shoulder. the pauldron is shaped to look like wings. At his hips he has his flute axe, blade and Bertrand's sword and on his back is the mandolin. He also has silver shin armor that melds with his original winged boots and very shiny black leather pants. Dorain leans on a brown wall in a seemingly causal cool guy pose with one arm extended. He looks to the right with a smile on his face, but it does not meet his eyes. End ID]

[0509-brainrot]

shake up that brain

[kakusu-shipping]

2022 is the year of reviving long dead Self Inserts 12 year old me thought were so cool and normal

[haruka-norikoyo]

Monoma x reader who is Mirio’s sibling Part 5

Wow, I can’t believe I already have this much parts.

Other parts:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6 | Part 7

Part 5/?

~~~~~~~~~~

You had the movie set up by the time Neito returns to the room. He was only supposed to get ice cream and soda so…

“Why do you have all that with you?!” you laugh. With him is a whole cart of food that the two of you would not be able to finish. He didn’t forget the ice cream. It was in one giant bowl topped with a myriad of sprinkles and syrup, as well as some slices of fruit as if that would make it healthy. On the second level of the cart are a bunch of cream puffs and small cake slices, and on the bottom level are chips and popcorn. Behind him, he is dragging along a wagon stacked high with blankets and clothes pins.

Neito shrugs, smiling at your amused expression. “They all got nosy and decided to chip in.” He sets down the blankets beside you on the bed, taking out a mini projector. “Aw, they’re so sweet.”

He nudges you while he connects the projector with his computer. “Hey, pay attention to me, not my classmates.”

You nudge back teasingly, “I dunno, you seem pretty out done.”

Neito rolls his eyes. “Are you gonna set up the base or what?” he asks, gesturing to the blankets and pillows.

You gasp, unfolding the blankets with glee. “A pillow fort..! That’s what it’s for..!”

He chuckles at your childish excitement. Though, he had to admit that the pillow fort was a good idea from Honenuki… he’ll have to thank him later.

Once he was done setting the projector up, he helps you with the fort. You pin the blankets onto his unused ceiling fan and his curtain rod, and some at the edges of his bed. Next you stack the pillows around you as a wall, using one of them to prop the projector up to properly face the wall. Now that the fort is done, you sit inside, waiting for Neito to join you after shutting the lights off. You hear them click. The blankets part as Neito crawls in with faintly lit electric candles. The extravagance of this one final touch has you rolling with laughter. He raises a brow at you with a smirk, setting the candles down around the fort. “What? Don’t like it?”

“No, I love it,” you giggle.

Neito smiles, finally sitting with his arm around your shoulder. He’s silent for a while, so you look back at him. You tilt your head, “What’re you staring for, hm?”

“Wow, so I can’t even look at you?”

You shake your head, leaning against him. “Just don’t ask me about what you missed in the movie.”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll pay attention to it,” and so he presses his keyboard, and the movie begins.

***

There is a knock in the 1-B dorm.

Kendo is quick to open it, finding her homeroom teacher standing there. He doesn’t usually have to check on them, so she figures why he’s there. “Oh, Vlad-sensei. Togata-san’s over at Monoma’s room.”

“Ah,” he says. He had gotten a call from Aizawa saying that some students from class 1-A were worried about (y/n) Togata not coming back to the dorm when they said they’d be back before curfew. Both teachers knew where you’d probably be without saying anything, which leads him here. “Tell them it’s past curfew and time to call it a day.”

“Well… we tried, but we figured it would be fine for Togata-san to stay?”

“What do you mean you tried?”

Kaibara peeks his head out of the door. “Just look at them.” He holds out his phone, which is on video chat with Tsubaraba over at Neito’s room along with Fukudashi, Shishida, Rin, Awase, and Kodai. The camera settles on Fukudashi as he draws on Neito’s face with a marker, which already has a few doodles. The unsuspecting boy is fast asleep, curled up against you, whose face is untouched… for now. Fukudashi’s face is in a mischievous “fufufu” speech bubble.

The other four are aiding him by holding up the blankets while he draws. In the background, the credits of a movie is projected on the wall. Several trays of the remnants of snacks sprawl across the floor.

Technically, the curfew only specifies that students must be in the dorms, but not which dorm so… Vlad sighs. “Alright. Just remind them not to be late for class.”

Besides, Aizawa probably won’t give a damn either. It’s hero school. Let the kids be kids every now and then.

***

You are gently shaken awake as a soft voice calls out your name. “(Y/n)… (y/n), I’m leaving soon.”

“Hm?” you rub your eyes, opening them to see Neito now dressed in his P.E. uniform. Curiously, he has a few dark smudges on his face. Ah, you must’ve fallen asleep. “Morning Neito… where are you going?”

“I’m going to Gym Gamma. You should head back to your dorm before your classmates get worried. Maybe get a little more sleep in your room.”

Sitting up, you notice that the fort is still up, just parted to make room for you to move. Most of the mess from last night have been stacked neatly to the side, ready to be cleaned up later. As he’s setting his gym bag up, he adds, “By the way, they drew on our faces on our sleep.”

Now that wakes you up. Quickly, you take your phone out and look at the camera and see that there, in fact, are doodles on your face from permanent marker. Well that explains the ink remnants on Neito’s face…

He hands you a wipe, saying that you can use the one of the 1-B sinks as well as their soap before you leave for your dorm. “Thanks. Why so early though? You training?”

Neito rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, your brother visited yesterday while I was getting snacks.” Seeing the scowl on your face, he quickly adds. “He didn’t try scaring me this time. In fact, he offered to help train me.”

You did, staring incredulously at him, “He did?” “Yeah,” Neito sits down on the edge of his bed. “And considering he’s one of the big three of UA, how could I refuse? Besides, it’s a good chance to see his quirk in action.”

Fearing that he’d accidentally go too hard on Neito, Mirio had Hado take over in the demonstration with 1-B. She kicked their asses. No remorse, I fear.

———

“I’m here because I’d like to make an offer to you. Think of it as an olive branch being extended,” Mirio, whose head is peaking out from the 1-B dorm’s floor says.

Neito raises a brow. A peace offering? “I’m listening…”

“I’ve heard of your quirk Copy. You’re able to copy other’s quirks if you’ve made physical contact with them for a certain amount of time, correct?”

“I’m a little concerned about how you know that, but you’re right. I’ve been training to extend that time limit.”

“Ah, sounds great! Ah—” Mirio sinks into the floor. Neito furrows his brows in confusion. After a few seconds, his voice returns. “Anyway, since we’ve started out on the wrong foot…”

Neito looks up as Mirio’s head now pokes out of the ceiling.

“…I would like to get to know you better. As both a person and as the hero you’re aspiring to be. So I came here to offer to train you on using my quirk. It’ll help you improve your duration too right?”

Neito puts his finger on his chin, looking straight ahead, “That’s… an interesting offer…” His mind weighs his options. He doesn’t exactly fully trust this guy even when he’s your brother so…

Mirio sticks his hand out from the ceiling to make a thumbs up. “It is, isn’t it? You see, my quirk isn’t what you’d think is hero like, is it?”

At this, Neito looks up again, eyes bigger with interest. “Not hero like? Even though you’re top of the school?” “My quirk makes me untouchable to everything. That includes any surface and even air. A simple movement such as taking a step through a wall would require me to turn it on for all except one leg, stepping through, turning it off in that leg that stepped through, and then turning it on in that previous leg.” “It took me a lot of time and dedication to make it a hero like quirk. I want to see if you’re the type who can persevere. I think that’s fair considering you claim you’ll spend the rest of your life with (y/n).”

Neito smiles wryly as Mirio quotes him. But that smiles soon fades, his expression going serious. “I do intend to make good on my words. They’re not simply hopes and wishes, they’re promises. I accept your offer.”

Mirio smiles a little wider. It’s subtle, but Neito picks up on it. “Alright! Lets meet tomorrow at Gym Gamma. Two hours before class.”

Neito nods. “Understood, onii-san!”

Mirio narrows his eyes at the boy, “…Fine, I’ll let you call me that.”

[sadcatprince]

I forgot I already started drawing this and wrote out the whole scenario... uh oops?

I did a combination of the two prompts for day 6 (which I'm surprised I didn't do more ngl). So this one is Time Travel AND Protectiv rolled together. Enjoy the doodle and bonus(?) pentadrabble below the cut.

This is implied to be a hate crime and Vlad kind of gestures at the AIDS crisis if your sensitive to things like that.

This was bad, Danny was supposed to be keeping contact to a minimum and keeping an eye out for the ghost trying to undo his existence. Now he was following a college aged Vlad, who was trying his absolute hardest to ignore Danny. After a few blocks he reeled on Danny though, wincing and letting out an audible grunt of pain as he landed on his injured ankle. 

Danny could see the damage to his face more clearly now as if glared up at him. Vlad's right cheek was swollen and already an ugly mottled purple. His lip was split but it had stopped bleeding already. “Look, man, I'm glad you helped me but you need to stop following me!” 

The idea made Danny tense and he rejected it down to his core. “No way. That was like five guys. If they jump you again they could kill you. I'm not leaving until I see you get into your dorm.”

At least then he knew dad would be able to keep an eye on him. Probably help him with that nasty black eye. Danny pushed away the thought of doing that himself. Vlad probably wasn't even going to let dad help, honestly. Vlad was giving him a suspicious look, his other eye narrowing to match the one neatly swollen shut. “Wait, how do you know I live in a dorm?”

Oh, fuck. Vlad looked ready to bolt. He needed a lie. Fast. He looked around and smiled sheepishly, “I guess I just assumed, you're the right age, you have a backpack… we’re heading toward the campus?” 

Vlad looked unconvinced. “Okay. I still don't need a bodyguard. I'm perfectly capable of getting back home myself.” 

“You can barely walk.” Danny countered. 

That seemed to make something snap in Vlad. He took an aggressive step forward then swore in pain and stumbled. Danny caught him easily. That just made Vlad more irate. He shoved at Danny hard, “Why do you even care? You don't even know me!” 

It was true. At least from Vlad’s perspective. It wasn't like Danny could tell him the truth. If Danny was honest with himself it was true in the “present” too. It seemed like the older he got the more he realized he didn't know Vlad at all. Even worse was the fact that it hurt more every time it hit him. If only he could go on pretending he didn't know why.

Danny sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, you're right. I don't know you but I think I want to.”

Vlad shifted uncomfortably. He looked ready to try running again and his cheeks were getting redder. He’d started pulling his backpack between them like a shield. “I… I don’t know what you heard those guys saying but I’m NOT like that okay? Even if I was watching the news, I'm not going to sleep with some stranger!” 

“Wait that isn't what I m-” It was too late Vlad had thrown his backpack and started running, despite his clearly sprained ankle.

Danny followed him out of sight after that.

End

[five-rivers]

KoF pollfic continued from here.

Edit: I must be tired because I left the poll off again. It is properly attached now. Forgive me.

.

“What’s that?” asked Danny.  “I don’t mind doing stuff other than translation.”  He loved his parents, but they didn’t always get it.  And, yeah, it wasn’t always ghost stuff they didn’t get (even a normal teenager would rebel if their parents tried to keep them inside twenty-four seven), but it was mostly ghost stuff.  Like why he liked Three Twilights so much, or how comfortable he was around Clockwork.  Or exactly what Obsessions were and how they acted.  

… Even Danny didn’t always understand why he reacted the way he did to certain things when it came to his Obsession.  After all, he’d thought he was managing just fine helping his parents with their research and running the occasional errand for Clockwork until this near meltdown.  Maybe it was a variety thing?  Or the way his parents were so resistant to him helping, lately?  

Yeah.  Yeah, that could be it.  It could be a matter of him subconsciously not feeling like he was being helpful, because they kept telling him to not help.  

Ugh.  Why did these things have to be so complicated?  Obsessions were supposed to be simple!  Straightforward!

Stupid complicated social Obsession…

(Not that he’d ever get rid of it, or even want to get rid of it.  Helping people was so important.)

“Here,” said the attendant, standing from her desk and beckoning him towards an inconspicuous door set in the wall.  “I’ll show you.”

Danny took one last look around the copyists’ room, then followed.  Behind the door was a twisted hallway– No, not a hallway.  The room only looked like that because papers and books were stacked so high on the… desks?  Or were there bookshelves under there?  Either way, it was maze-like.  

The only people they passed had golden loops and curls under their skin, and many of them gave Danny confused or suspicious looks before the attendant greeted them.  This was, Danny quickly realized, the staff area of the library, where only members usually went.  Most of these people probably weren’t even just members, but permanent and semi-permanent residents, if the Lost Library was set up anything like the Library of Tongues.  

“You can probably tell that there’s a lot to do back here,” said the attendant.  “Sorting and all that.”

“Is that what you need me for?” asked Danny.  

“Something like that,” said the attendant.  She scratched the corner of her jaw.  “It’s, well, finding things is much more fun than sorting things out so that they’re easier to find later.  So, we get a backlog, and with the recent influx from the Mausoleum…”  She trailed off, seeming to notice Danny’s glances of trepidation at the stacks of paper.  “Of course, we aren’t going to make you do all this!  This is years worth of files and plans, and… I think some of it is just sheets of doodles, actually.  Some of it is structural, anyway, or otherwise indestructible.”

“Indestructible?”  

“Well, anytime the last copy of something is destroyed, it winds up here, somewhere.  It doesn’t matter if it’s bad or good, or if it was just someone’s meeting notes… if it’s the last copy, it’s here.  Somewhere.  And if the last copy is already here…”

“Oh,” said Danny, understanding.  “I get it.  But I’m still not sure what I’m doing…?”

“Oh!  Right,” said the attendant.  “Well, whenever we get new material, it shows up in one of our intake books.  But those operate strictly on a chronological basis, and they only give the title and author in the original language.  Our card catalog needs the title and author in Middle Chinese, Latin, Esperanto, or English, plus the original, as well as the date of destruction, in order to work properly, so you see the issue.”

“So you need me to make the cards for the card catalog from the intake book?”

“Yes!  That’s it exactly!” said the attendant, making the ‘so cute’ face again.  “You pick up things fast.”

“Uh huh,” said Danny.  

“Now, we’re just around the corner– Here!”  

There was a relatively clear space, with a long counter on one side and a massive wall of tiny drawers on the other.  On the counter rested a set of huge books, each one chained to the counter by a stout golden chain.  Some of them were bigger than Danny.  Well, bigger than Danny in his current form.

“Why gold?” asked Maddie.  “That can’t be secure.”

“It’s probably cursed,” said Danny.  

“Oh, yes, we have excellent security,” said the attendant, happily.  “Or, well, the books do, anyway.”  She went to the thinnest of the books and opened it up to the last few pages.  “Here, this is where you want to start.  You can make the cards in any of the languages I mentioned, and the catalog will take care of the rest.  What else…  Here’s a reference of what the cards look like.”  She handed him a rectangular piece of card with a large dark stain on one corner.  “Don’t mind the stain.”

“Right,” said Danny, looking over the format.  “Where can I find blank ones?”

“Drawers under the counter,” said the attendant.  “Oh, and stay here, alright?  Some people don’t like it when guests are back here.  And it’s also, well, a maze.  I don’t want you to get lost.”

“So, um.  Are you staying here?” asked Danny.  

“Oh, no, I really can’t,” said the attendant.  “I’ll check in on you in an hour or so, and then maybe I can show you the children’s section!  If you don’t want to keep working, that is.”

“Uh huh,” said Danny, dubiously.

“And thank you so much.  We really need this done.”

Danny sat down in one of the chairs at the counter, glowered at the edge of the counter, which was about even with his nose, then got some books to stack up in the seat so he could see over it properly.  Then, he started to work.  

“Why doesn’t their card catalog work with other languages?” asked Mom.  “That seems like an oversight.”

“Four is already a good number for things like that,” said Danny.  He glanced over his shoulder at the wall of drawers.  “If you make something like that too smart, it’ll develop sentience and start to 

“Er, Danno,” said Dad, “why are you doing this?  Don’t get me wrong, it’s interesting!  But not what I thought we were doing.”

Danny sighed, and began the long process of explaining his problems to his parents.

About half an hour in, Danny noticed the quality of light had changed.  He looked up.  First at the ceiling, then around the clear area.  Glowing veins of light traced through the air in one of the gaps between piles of paper.  Veins of light that Danny hadn’t caused.  The ones he’d made on his way in had all but faded.  He frowned.  He’d definitely gotten the impression that there shouldn’t be any other guests here.

Maybe someone had gotten lost.  

Or maybe it was another guest getting a tour or helping with something back here.  Danny doubted all of the guests were translators, after all, and they had to earn their way in somehow.

[cookie-crumblr]

Lucky

Shy M!Reader x F!Yandere OC

Part 2~

Her Info: 🪓

Part 1

<<<Previous Part _ Next Part>>>

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: M! Reader, Reader has a penis, Reader referred to as he/him, psychological horror/trauma, reader is on meds for night terrors, blood, bdsm, collar use, petnames for reader(good boy, bad boy), pet play, bondage, non con(reader goes along with it but doesn’t actually consent), Lucy has SH scars/wounds, overstim, multiple orgasms scissors ✂️ masochist reader

Anything in red reader isn’t aware of.

Lucy passes you a folded pink piece of paper, her eyes locked onto the board as the professor is teaching.

You unfold it: ty <3

is all it says along with a ton of hearts doodled all over the stationary.

Your face feels hot. She sucked your dick and is now thanking you for it… What do you even think?

What are you supposed to think? or even feel?

~

You get up at the end of class to leave, but Lucy grabs the hem of your shirt. She looks zoned out, so you say, “Lucy?” to try and get her attention.

“Ope! sorry! um, C-can I c-come over, Y/N?”

You don’t see why not, you have nothing left to do today… “Sure!” you hate to fantasize already… But if she did that in public, imagine what she’ll do later.

The walk to your place is quick and easy, but Lucy stops you, her stomach growling loudly.

“You wanna get some food first? I don’t really have anything at home…” You tell her sheepishly.

She nods excitedly and grabs your hand. You don’t pull it away, and she tugs you along after her.

She’s grinning as she leads you, her hips swaying back and forth… You can’t help but stare just at her. Her skirt swishing over her—

Don’t keep staring at her ass.

DONT STARE AT HER ASS.

…

You’re staring at her ass.

You can’t help it, it’s mesmerizing. Her long orange hair is down right to her tailbone, adding to the allure. She has long white socks on that squish her thick thighs just below her skirt, the rims of the socks are frilly.

Lucy leads you to a cute tea cafe, the awning is pink and white, the inside is filled with regal looking chairs, the fancy ones with the carved wood along the backs. The upholstery is all pale pink velvet, and the tables instead of cloths have doilies and each table has a candle warmer for teapots.

She orders food from every section of the menu and you worry she’ll make you pay… Your heart pounds and you’re sweating bullets, there’s no way you can afford this much food! the worst part: the menu didn’t even have prices!

“I-um, I can pay, i-if that’s okay!” She looks away blushing. You remember that she’s a trust fund baby, and sigh in relief.

“Oh thank gods, Lucy, you just scared the shit outta me! hah!” You laugh.

“Really!?” Her eyes light up as if that’s a good thing, she looks excited.

All you can do is laugh a little.

When her food arrives all the platters take up the entire table and they have to bring a stand for the rest.

She eats really adorably, every bite she takes, she looks more and more excited, and each one is complemented by a cute “mm!” It’s infectious, and she shares her favorites, holding out her fork for you to take bites.

“Here! try this!” She holds her arm out to you, a powder sugar and fruit covered french toast bite. “And this one!” the food is still in your mouth when she hands you another bite of something, her eyes alight with joy, as you try to finish fast and accept the new bite.

She’s loving how obedient you’re being…

You have plenty of dishes to choose from, and she seems to hone in on the things you favor over the others, making sure you get the biggest portion of the things you like.

Once your both stuffed with possibly the best literal feast that you’ve had in months, she asks the waite staff for a bag to carry everything in. You never saw the receipt, and you’re happy not to.

“Do you normally do this kinda thing? with all the food?”

“Nope! hehe!” She giggles.

~

You fill your previously empty fridge with enough leftovers to eat for DAYS. and with real cafe food! not cheap ramen!! She made sure you’d be eating decently, rather than your typical cheap ramen.

“Hey Lu—” the second you turn away from the fridge she’s on you.

Lips crashing upon you, her body’s hot against yours. She’s grabbing at your hands and trying to pin them behind you. You aren’t fighting her. You feel her knee pressing against your bulge.

She bites your lip not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to send a pang of lovely pleasure through your bloodstream and into your growing member. You sigh into her mouth which she happily swallows up with a little moan.

She lets go of your hands but you keep them folded behind you, before you hear the sound of a jingling metal buckle.

She slips something thick around your neck and with a *clink* She pulls away, holding a leash that’s attached to your neck.

“Lu-Lucy! What is this??” You lift up a heavy, and very old looking ornate iron lock that’s connected to your collar.

You go to the bathroom and she follows you like an owner walking their dog. In the mirror you see that it’s a thick black leather, with a shiny rose gold buckle. “Lucy! Do you have the key?? G-Give it to me!” Your voice cracks, you didn’t agree to this!

“No can do~ Now be a good boy and get on the bed.”

You gulp as your dick twitches at her words… “Wh-what!?”

“I said: on the bed. Now, Y/N.”

You don’t know why, but you obey her, sitting on the edge of your mattress nervously.

“Good boy~,” she smiles and pats your head.

“Lucy-”

“Puppies don’t talk.”

“Wha-! Lucy I’m not—!!”

She yanks the leash wrapping the leather around and around her hand, and drags you back off the bed. The back of your neck burns as she does.

“Bad Boy.”

You swallow painfully and rub at your neck.

“Are you ready to be a good boy again now?”

You nod.

Lucy ties your leash around the leg of your bed, where you are, it’s taught so your only option is to get back on the bed, or stay on the wood floor. She pulls out a large pair of scissors, “Don’t worry, I’ll buy you new clothes Y/N!” her voice is chipper and it makes you more nervous.

She starts cutting off your clothes slowly, you feel the cool metal occasionally grazing you, and it makes you shudder.

You aren’t sure anymore how you got to this point.

Soon you’re in nothing but your underwear and she makes you get back on the bed. She retrieves another leather strip from her bag and returns to you, using it to tie your wrists together above your head.

“Such a good boy! I’m so proud of you!! And good boys get rewarded!” giddily she climbs over you on the bed, scissors back in hand.

*sniiiiiip*

Slowly, the last article of clothing is removed from you, and you’re left completely bare to her. It’s a little bit humiliating like this.

Her eyes are dark, not at all what you’re used to, yeah you’ve seen it before, but you never thought she’d be like this secretly!? But… Are you into it? Your dick is certainly saying you are. Wait… Didn’t you just read or watch something just like this?

Now that your cock is freed and cold, she gets over you and puts her hot, clothed pussy just against your head, you groan from the sudden shift in temperature, oh my gods, your dick wants to get inside and warm up so badly. It twitches under her. You��re eyes had closed and without you paying attention you hear the shears open again…

There’s no clothes left to cut—

“L-Lucy!?” The twin blades sit at the base of your cock, the metal presses up against your underside. “Lucy, please—”

“Be a good boy, and you won’t get hurt.”

“Lucy this isn’t funny!”

She presses the metal harder against you, indenting your sensitive skin. You struggle against the binds, but she tied them really tight!

“I’ll give you your reward still for being such a good boy today, and prove to you that you enjoy this.”

“Wha-” You start as she slips her panties out of the way and lowers herself, just your cock head entering her and that’s it. She holds herself there and struggles to breathe for a second, before shuddering over you.

You feel her pussy contracting trying to milk something that’s not even fully inside her yet. The scissors are still at your base otherwise you might’ve bucked up into her, but you remain laying still. She starts rotating her hips, teasing just your head longer. You whine and try to pull your wrists free, but they burn against the tightly wrapped leather.

She shimmies down a little at a time, gasping as she does, and once your fully inside her, she lifts her skirt for you to see her puffy blushing lips spread, and flat against your body. Your cock is swallowed up inside of her, it’s enough to— Wait, Her thighs, they’re covered in raised scars and pink bandages…

“Lucy…” You want to ask, or hug her… Or something. She reaches behind her and squeezes the scissors slightly pinching your cock’s skin, “Lucy!!” You gasp and this time, harshly buck up into her, knocking her around and she lets the scissors fall to the floor.

“Ahh!!” Her voice is strained, and your dick throbs inside her.

You take a breath, all the relief that instantly floods your body is so dizzying.

Her insides pulse around you, you know she’s cumming again, and you can’t take the sensation and cum yourself, thrusting your hips up as high as you can, “Ahhhhh!!!” She yells out as your load shoots deep inside of her.

“Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!! thankyouthankyouthankuouuuu!!!!” she moves her hips around as her insides keep milking you, driving you mad!

Your struggling against your bindings again whining and writhing as she continues to torture you. “Lucy!! Lucy!!” You beg but to her it sounds like a chant of praise.

She goes harder, lifting and dropping herself onto you. your body feels tired now. She leans back holding herself up with your legs and at this angle you can actually see the base of your somehow still hard cock stretching her open, she’s whimpering and you can feel that she’s about to come again.

The sweat slicked to your skin finally allows you to slip free from the strap around your wrist, your hands are burning and bruised, you sit up as far as the leash allows and grab onto her.

You push her down onto you and force yourself up as hard as you can. You cum together, and spend a while just catching your breath.

[h50europe]

9-1-1 Buck/Tommy - Love me as I'm a morning with no alarm...

While Tommy is still fast asleep, Buck begins stowing away the remaining moving boxes in the attic, which Tommy had kindly offered him for storage space. As Buck rummages through the attic, he comes across a collage featuring Tommy's photos and is immediately smitten. He carefully brings it downstairs and settles on the sectional, gazing at it dreamily for several minutes.

Until his attention is drawn to the coffee table, where Jee's neatly arranged pens and some of her drawings are laid out. Among her drawings is one that depicts the three of them, with Buck on her right and Tommy on her left. Tommy's handwriting adorns the drawing, with the words "Me and my uncles" encircled by a pink heart.

Feeling inspired, Buck takes one of Jee's pink pens and, with his tongue sticking out from the corner of his mouth, adds his drawings and writings to the pictures. After he finishes, he looks at the result with a proud grin. Just as he's about to bask in his accomplishment, he's startled by Tommy's voice from behind, "That needs to be framed and put on the wall in my office at the station."

Buck blushes and responds, "So you consider this a masterpiece? But don't you think it might be a bit too much? I mean, what would your colleagues say?"

Tommy leans in from behind, planting gentle kisses on Buck's birthmark, temple, and cheek before taking a closer look at Jee's drawing. "Little Jee has such talent and is truly the best niece one could have," Tommy remarks proudly.

Buck's gaze shifts to the sheet in his hand and his smile wavers. "I suppose so," he says, his voice tinged with disappointment. He had hoped for a different reaction.

Just as he's about to resign to his thoughts, Tommy surprises him by plopping down on the sectional next to him, showing a genuine interest in the pictures and Buck's 'additions.'

"I find it adorable that you put a crown on my head, think I'm cool, and appear to have a total crush on me," Tommy says with a grin as he shows Buck what he's done.

"But I have something for you as well," Tommy says, smirking as he hands Buck a sheet with a photograph, doodles, and printed text. Buck reads the lines. Then, looks at Tommy and says, "You planned that all along? But how did you know…?"

"Evan Buckley you are an open book to me and I knew it was only a matter of time…"

"Tommy Kinard?"

"What?"

"Shut up and let me love you as you're a morning with no alarm."

Tommy doesn't even have the time to reply as Buck takes the lead and presses him down with his weight. They started making out like crazy until they lose their balance and drop to the floor, laughing, now with Tommy on top.

But not for long, as Buck flips him back on his back. They stare into each other's eyes, let their souls talk and start a dance to a song only they can hear…

[homeybadger]

Of Gods and Lattes (Part One)

Summary: When you- local coffee barista turned Avatar of an ancient Egyptian god- get kidnapped, you're thrust into a whole new world Warning(s): Non-detailed kidnapping of reader, mild non-graphic combat Note(s): I'm torn between a few possible deities in connection to this story: Thoth, Heka, Ra and Anubis. I'm open to any suggestions!

Coffee making had always been a kind of a personal ritual for you. Humming to the rhythm of the milk frother, each step was precise, measured. You'd often imagined that brewing a latte was akin to crafting a potion, each ingredient essential to the final result- smooth, energizing, and restorative. There was something special about it, providing tired mothers and businessmen alike with the necessary energy for their days. But, your shift was cut short when you were taken. You didn't remember the exact details- it all happened too fast. One moment, you were wiping down the counter after a busy lunch rush, and the next, someone grabbed you from behind, pulling you into an alley behind the café. A van. Darkness. Rope. Now, here you were, hands bound and sitting on the cold ground in some dilapidated warehouse. Cold metal presses against your wrists, the uncomfortable bite of handcuffs incessantly reminding you of your current predicament. You shift slightly, testing the restraints, and a wave of dull pain ripples through your body. Of course kidnappers weren't gentle. In front of you was a man. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing what looks like an approximation of tactical gear, face obscured by a mask. You narrow your eyes. This is the guy, the one who took you “Ah, you’re awake,” he says, his voice deep but trying a little too hard to sound intimidating. He paces slowly in front of you, his boots echoing in the room. You lean back- feigning more discomfort than you actually feel. It's difficult to feel very threatened when a literal god is nearby. "Yeah, guess I am. If this is about money, I’m not really-" “Money?” He cuts you off with a harsh laugh. “No, no. This isn’t about money.” He stops pacing, turning to face you fully. “I know what you are. I know who you serve.” At that, you raise an eyebrow. This should be good. "Anubis' power will be mine!" your captor croons, pacing once more like a professor rehearsing a lecture. You eye the crude symbols scrawled across the floor a bit behind him, white chalk instantly declaring their presence. They're meant to be ancient, powerful runes- instead, they look more like the artistic attempt of a child high on sugar. The symbols are sloppy, some even backward, and you swear a good portion of them are just random doodles. Whatever this guy thinks he's doing, it's nowhere near invoking anything close to Anubis. You feel him, your god, closer this time. Your captor continues his rant about power, the gods, and his supposed mastery of ancient Egyptian rites. Something about raising a man named Arthur from the grave. Arthur... Sparrow? Farrow? It was hard to hear behind his mask. You sigh internally, feeling the distinct thrum of your god's power settling behind you. "Anubis will rise," your captor says, voice reaching a crescendo, "and he will grant me dominion over life and death!" You can't help it. A chuckle slips past your lips. The man stops dead in his tracks, glare attempting to shoot daggers into your soul, "What's so funny?" You shake your head, biting your lip. "What?" "Your symbols." you gesture with your chin to the floor, "They're wrong. Even if Anubis was the one you were trying to summon, which- by the way, he isn't- this wouldn't work." His eyes narrow behind the mask, clearly thrown off. "What are you talking about? These are ancient runes of power, crafted by-" "By someone who hates you apparently." you interrupt, "You think you can bring death under your control with that?"

"You know nothing of these powers! Anubis will answer, and I will-" "You don't even want to summon Anubis." If it was physically possible for your captor to glare harder, you're sure he would have by this point. Your god stands in the corner, his eyes gleaming in the shadows. He doesn't speak, but his presence fills your soul with a sense of calm. Of inevitability. "What?" "Anubis is about funerary rites, guiding souls," you continue, "not... whatever it is you're aiming for here. Osiris is the one you're thinking of with this resurrection business." Your captor tenses, fist slowly curling into a ball. "You said you know what I am, you have to have assumed I researched things." He scowled, clearly thrown off by the correction, but before he could respond, the door slams open. She's quick, moving with a grace that immediately makes it clear she's not here to talk things out. You've seen her before- the woman who's been making appearances in the headlines recently, the Scarlet Scarab. Her appearance is striking, strong and purposeful, like she's not here to take nonsense from anyone. But it's what you see just behind her that really makes your breath snag in your throat. Hovering over her shoulder, watching with an intense curiosity, is the goddess Taweret. You almost wave- an instinctive gesture, like you’re greeting someone you recognize- but then you remember your hands are securely bound. Khonshu is there too, looming at the edge of the room, his towering skeletal form and crescent-shaped staff impossible to ignore. You’ve heard of Moon Knight too- another vigilante working alongside the Scarlet Scarab some days. Khonshu’s presence is cold, oppressive, but you know he’s not here for you. The Scarlet Scarab strides toward your captor, her expression hard. “It’s over,” she says flatly, no room for argument in her voice. Your captor stumbles backward, panic setting in. He gestures once more toward the chalk symbols on the floor, muttering something incoherent about power and magic. “Anubis is not coming to help you,” you say, unable to keep the exhaustion out of your voice. “And even if he was, this isn’t how you’d get his attention. You’ve got it all wrong.” Your captor spins to face you, his face contorted with anger. “You think you know more than me? I’ve spent years studying these texts!” You feel the sheer, absolute weight of your god’s presence now, a calm certainty settling over you like a familiar blanket. Your god is always with you- but in moments like these, his influence becomes palpable. It’s as if he’s standing just behind you, his ancient hands resting on your shoulders, steadying your resolve. Relax, you hear him whisper in the quiet corner of your mind, a voice like rolling thunder, yet somehow soothing. He is a fool.You shift slightly, testing your cuffs again. The metal bites into your skin, but you feel the tension begin to give, a soft pulsing energy coiling beneath your skin. There. he whispers again, Got it. The cuffs click, and with one last movement, they snap open. “I’m telling you,” you say, that same hum of power underscoring your words, “You might’ve spent years studying those texts, but you don’t understand a thing.” The captor’s rant finally falters. His eyes flick toward the Scarlet Scarab, and for the briefest moment, you see his bravado finally crack. She takes a step forward, ready to finish things, but something shifts in the air. An unnatural pulse of energy, twisted and wrong. A shadowy figure emerges from the darkness, an ethereal form that seems to manifest out of thin air. Some kind of twisted guardian or specter, summoned by the captor’s sloppy rituals. A flash of white and silver darts forward, crescent shaped weapons glinting faintly in the lighting. Your captor slams the door open, fleeing into the night- and you decidedly ignore the coward in favor of ducking.

[blues-sues]

It had been a year.

Though part of her suspected it had been longer. It felt like an eternity.

Sometimes she felt like the only peace she could truly find anymore were these night walks with her son.

He'd been born a few months before it happened. Yet he didn't understand a thing, of course. He was merely a child.

One who tugged now on her wrist, with a distressed whine as he looks over his shoulder, brows furrowed.

"Stain? What's wrong?" She turns her head to look down at him in concern. She knew her son was extremely prone to having sudden rushes of anxiety. She'd hoped the soothe bell around his neck would improve it, but it had only lessened a small amount.

"Scarf!" Once the word escaped him, Pigment had never turned as fast. Looking back on it, she's not sure why. Perhaps part of her hoped her father remained out there. But she knew the answer all too well.

It had been a year.

Fate was a despicable thing, taking her father. She'd thought maybe she'd stop having hope that he'd come back. She knew he was gone. And she knew she wouldn't see anything as she turned around.

"Stain, there's nothing there. You needn't worry." She tries to comfort him but the young Mewtwo doesn't take his eyes off the tree. Her frown depends.

She gives his hand a gentle squeeze, but he still doesn't avert his gaze, instead beginning to wave one of his arms, his legs beginning to bounce as he rocked on his feet. "There! There!" He squeaked out, scrambling to hide behind her hip. Pigment breathes out.

"I'll check, okay? Just to be sure." She offers. Stain looks up at her, his eyes wide before his chin lowers in the tiny symbol of a nod. Releasing his hand lightly, she glides herself closer to the tree, peering her head around it.

"I told you, nothing's there."

And nothing was. She wasn't sure why he'd been so panicked. He's rather skittish, but still, not enough to be startled by well..air. She decides to come to the conclusion that perhaps he saw some sort of other 'mon on its night route.

"Ma! Saw Scarf!" He's waving both hands now, his fur spiked as he looks around with nervous glances. A strange detail to keep bringing up. Her heart sinks as her own mind recalls a scarf, her hand drifting up to clasp at the bandana over her shoulders.

A swift shake of her head as she leans down and lifts Stain into her arms, tucking his head against her chest.

"It's alright. I'll protect you."

And so, a hum emerges from her. A tune that once it reaches Stain, it causes his eyelids to flutter downwards, a tiny yawn escaping him as his trembling slowly starts to cease.

Perhaps she should've checked behind the tree twice.

A shadow looms there now, his eyes narrowed as his fingers grip the fabric he wears. The blue was now much darker. His fingers now claws.

He'd changed after death, he'd noticed. So had the world, it appeared. After all, it had been a year.

How foolish of he to think it could all stay the same.

_______

End.

Woop that was a long one. I came up with this during school.

I'd had the general idea for a while after seeing some of Tc's asks about what if Scarfy died and decided to do a little something.

My backgrounds aren't top tier but the flowers in the front are Forget-me-nots.

For clarification: this isn't supposed to be bashing on these characters for not recovering in a year after Scarfy's death. It's meant to show that grief lasts a long time. And sometimes it takes time to completely settle. Pigment is still sort of coming to terms with it, part of her struggling to believe he's truly gone.

These characters belong to @xxtc-96xx !!

Also, in this, I made the choice that after a Pokemon dies, they become y'know a ghost. Or in Scarfy's case, a ghost fusion. He became a Haunter fusion since Pig technically has Gengar blood and I'm pretty sure Stains would-be fusion is a Gastly.

I might do more doodles and such about this, but here's the first! I genuinely really like this idea and may or may not have gotten some inspiration from Ghosting by Mother Mother.

[dearlyjun]

— CHERRY BLOSSOMS & 7/11 ☆ CSB

summary: soobin is on a break from tour, so you both escape to japan for a few days.

pairing: idol!soobin x gn!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.6k

warnings: ehhh none. they are just tooth numbingly sweet.

authors note: can you tell that I’m reeeeeally pushing the soobin sweetheart boyfriend agenda lol. this was kind of inspired by his japan vlog, and I added my own twist with some of my own knowledge of Japan. this reminded me that my Japanese isn’t going to study itself, and soobin if you see this and think you’re slacking, I’m probably slacking harder.

quick links: masterlist | taglist | send a request

–

“I think I’m going to do some things on my iPad. Maybe draw.” You spoke, reaching for your bag that you set onto the floor.

“I might read.” Soobin answered. “I bought a new book a few days ago to read on this flight.”

Soobin was on a break from tour right now, and you both decided it was a perfect time to take a trip to Japan for a few days for some alone time.

The flight wasn’t very long; only two and a half hours. It was roughly an hour in, both you and Soobin keeping yourselves occupied. you were listening to music and doodling on your iPad while soobin was reading his book.

You drew a cute little doodle of Soobin’s hedgehog, Odi as well as a bunny with a carrot. Smiling to yourself at how cute it was, you turned to show Soobin, but realized that he was fast asleep.

His arms were crossed in his lap and his head tilted to the side. You always thought it was cute how his nose sometimes whistled when he was asleep.

“Soob.” You quietly spoke, picking up his book and bookmarking the spot he left off on.

He hummed without opening his eyes, and shifted in the seat.

“You almost lost your spot in your book.” That made him open his eyes, and pick it up.

“I got so tired all of a sudden.” Soobin laughed at himself. “I didn’t sleep good last night. I was too excited.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever slept on a plane.” You answered. “It’s hard for me to get comfortable.”

Soobin tousled his blonde hair, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He leaned over to look at your iPad. “What are you drawing?”

“Just random things. Look I was going to show you this, but you were asleep.” You pointed to the doodles of Odi and the little bunny.

Soobin’s smile was so big. “Aw, you drew my Odi! I miss him.”

He swiped through your other drawings. One of a plant, two cats, but then he stopped on one that was a cartoonish drawing of a boy with blonde hair.

“Is that supposed to be me?” Soobin questioned.

“Yes.” You responded, smirking. “You weren’t supposed to see that one.”

Soobin was smiling. “No no no it’s cute. You’re cute.” He kissed your temple, making you giggle.

It wasn’t long after that, the plane arrived, and you both got off, and found your bags.

“Should we get a taxi or take the train?” Soobin asked you as you walked away from baggage claim.

“A taxi will be too expensive from the airport. we can just buy train tickets.” You answered, making him nod; his blonde hair bouncing as he did so.

“Plus, it will give you a chance to practice your Japanese.”

A blush formed on Soobin’s cheeks. “Hey, don’t do that to me. That makes me so nervous.”

“Soobin, you are a lot better at Japanese than you claim you are. I’ve seen your notebook.” You we’re right, Soobin was pretty good at learning Japanese. He always carried his flash cards with him, and you helped him study any chance you got.

You both bought your train tickets, and within an hour or so, you finally arrived at your hotel room.

The second you both walked into the room, you immediately took off your shoes and coats, and relaxed onto the bed.

You moved closer to Soobin, nuzzling into him; making him giggle. “Are you tired?”

You nodded, and Soobins hands smoothed over your hair. “We can take a nap if you want. We’ll just have a chill night tonight while we plan the next couple of days.”

“Okay.” You answered, your eyes already closed as Soobin pulled you closer to him. At this point he was becoming your human body pillow. Soobin always smelled so good; like a mix of vanilla and fresh laundry. Pretty soon you were both fast asleep.

Within about two hours later, you both woke back up. You took a shower while Soobin watched an anime on the television, and then once you were finished; Soobin took a shower. Soobin took longer showers, so by the time he was out, your hair was already blowdried and you were in your hotel robe sitting on the bed doing your make up.

“You don’t need makeup.” Soobin spoke cutely to you. You looked up at him, he was wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants while drying off his damp hair with a crisp white towel. “You always look nice.”

“Soob, you don’t have to say that. I just like to wear some of it.” He sat near you on the bed, picking up some of your products and examining them.

“This is cute.” He had a peachy toned eyeshadow palette in his hand.

“I’ll wear it.” You smiled at him watching you. “I’m almost done, then I just have to get dressed.”

Soobin was still looking at your makeup products, then looked at his phone for the time. “It’s like 7pm. If you want we could just walk around and go to the convenience store.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You answered, putting your makeup away.

“There’s a 7-11 like ten minutes away that we can walk to.”

You stood up from the bed to get dressed. “I’m gonna change. What are you wearing?”

Soobin looked up from his phone at you. “Im just going to wear these.” He rubbed his sweat-pant clad thighs. “And like a hoodie or something. Don’t forget about a coat, it’s cold outside.”

You smiled at him before going through your suitcase to find clothes. “Soobin, I know.”

You threw on a simple outfit of some jeans and a sweatshirt.

You both were standing in front of the mirror, and you spritzed some perfume on.

“We look cute.” Soobin spoke, looking at you through the mirror.

You smiled. “I know, I want to kiss you all over.”You turned to face him, standing on your toes to kiss him. “You ready to go?”

Soobin nodded, his fluffy hair bouncing. “Let me get my scarf and my bag.”

Soobin grabbed his bag before wrapping his scarf around his neck, then both of you headed out of the hotel and onto the street.

“The 7-11 is this way.” Soobin spoke, grabbing your hand and starting to walk in that direction. You had to admit that Soobin looked so cute all bundled up in the cold.

“The streets look so cool.” You spoke out loud to yourself, looking around.

“I know. It has a Japan vibe.” Soobin answered.

“Soobin, that’s where we are!” You laughed, making him smile.

“Oh, you know what I mean.” He couldn’t help but laugh at himself too.

You eventually came to an intersection, and stopped for the okay to cross the street.

You were standing next to Soobin, still holding his hand, and felt a chill.

“I’m kind of cold.” You said quietly.

Soobin looked down at you. “Your coats not even zipped all of the way!” He let go of your hand, zipping your coat up. “No wonder you’re cold.”

You eventually crossed the street, and entered the 7-11 shortly after. Soobin opened the door for you and let you walk in ahead of him.

“Do you want ramen?” Soobin asked you.

“Ooh yes please.” You answered, making him smile. “I want natto too.”

You found the ramen section, picking out flavors that you think you’d enjoy.

Both of you strayed off on your own for a little bit, but eventually Soobin found you with some things in your hands.

“Did you find anything good?” He held out his hand basket to you to put your things in.

“Yes!” The excitement was prevalent in your voice. “cheddar aerial chips, natto, and some hand rolls.” You placed each item in the basket as you named it.

“Those chips sound good.” Soobin added.

“Oh my gosh I could eat the whole bag. Which I’ve definitely done before. I can’t ever find them at home.” You noticed he had picked out a few things. “What do you have?”

“I know you like the pocari sweat in the can.” He pointed to it in his basket. “and I found apple hi chews.” He had about eight sticks of them.

You laughed. “Soob, I know that’s your favorite flavor but I hope you left some for somebody else.”

He laughed, smiling. “Hey, I did.”

You guys soon checked out your items, and went to sit down in front of the window to enjoy your snacks.

“I kind of panicked when she asked if I wanted a bag or not” Soobin said as he sat down next to you.

“But you did great.” You opened up your hand roll, wrapping the nori seaweed around it. “Want a bite?”

Soobin nodded, leaning in to take a bite.

“It’s good.” He grabbed the two bowls of ramen. “I’ll go put hot water in these.”

He came back, setting both bowls down for the noodles to soften. You opened your can of pocari sweat, taking a sip.

“It’s just superior in the can.” You commented, making Soobin laugh.

“So what do you want to do tomorrow?” You asked Soobin, opening up your styrofoam container of natto.

“I want to find a bookstore hopefully, and maybe we can go to the countryside. like maybe shirakawa.” Soobin answered.

“Yeah we can do that. I wanted to see the cherry blossoms. I think they should have bloomed in some places. I know it’s kind of touristy and it will probably be so busy, but we can take some cute pictures.”

Soobin peeled the lid off of his ramen. “Yeah, probably, but we can figure it out.”

“Yeah, I’m so excited for these next few days.”

–

tags: @dearlyjoonie @mhasimp666

[snaillock]

demotivated artist!reader x bllk boys

(bachira, kaiser)

tags: gn!reader, kaisers gratuitous stripping of course, bachira being a silly little guy, kaiser being an attention whore

bachira

you sat at your desk, mindlessly watching a youtube video that was supposed to be your background noise as you did your art. instead your sketchbook was left on the fresh blank page as you were completely engrossed in the video.

“aren’t you supposed to be doing something” you snapped out of your focus from the distraction and turned to see bachira cheekily smiling at you with an eyebrow raised and hands on his hips

“ugh fine you caught me,” you said as you turned back to look at your computer and felt bachira wrap his arms around you and his head rest on his shoulder.

“i just… don’t know how to start. i’ve been on an art block for weeks now and it’s starting to wear me down.” you let out a deep sigh as you rambled and tapped your pencil on the desk, “it’s just so hard to find any ideas now”

as bachira listened to your rant, he unwrapped one of his arms from your shoulder and silently reached out for your colored pens and markers with his tongue out in absolute concentration, none of which you noticed.

your ramble got interrupted the second you heard marker scratching on paper. you look down to see bachira doodling on your sketchbook

“bachira?! what the hell are you doing!?” when you said that, he quickly snatched up your sketchbook and a couple of markers and ran out the room giggling, too fast for you to catch up. ‘god why did i date a football player’ you sighed and ran out to find him

you spotted him on the couch, comfortably laying on his stomach as he continued doodling on your stolen sketchbook with your stolen markers. you immediately snatched the book out of his hands.

“i cannot believe you would take my things like that! not only did you take my sketchbook, you also drew in it without my permiss- oh wait…” your scolding trailed off as you took a look at the page he drew. you saw the vibrant squiggles and lines he did along with some star shapes and hearts.

“wow this is actually really pretty,” you said, sitting down right next to him. you took one of your pens that bachira stole from your desk and started to draw on that page, using the art bachira did as a colorful background to bring out the black ink of the figures you drew in front of it. bachira rested his head on your shoulder and watched the entire time.

“hehe looks like i once again saved the day,” bachira laughed as he looked at your ‘collaborated’ work.

you rolled your eyes at his comment. “ok fine i guess you did help with my art block,” you smiled and kissed his cheek, “i appreciate it and i appreciate you”

bachira grinned and wrapped his arms around your waist, “you are so so welcome!”

“is this something you did with your mom every time she couldn’t paint?” “oh yeah constantly” “ah should’ve guessed”

kaiser

you sat at your desk while scrolling through different photos on your laptop, trying to find something to draw since your brain was completely dried out of ideas

“babe~” you sighed as you heard a whiny voice from behind you. uh oh kaiser needs attention. you turned your head to look at him

“what do you need kaiser”

“how much longer are you gonna be in here for? you’ve already been here all day…” it’s only been an hour.

you rolled your eyes as his whining got more desperate and you spoke, “who knows at this point. i’ve been stuck for a while so you might have to wait for the rest of the day.” you glanced at him, knowing that would get to him.

“no darling! you cant stay here all day”

“well if you have any ideas for me, i’ll love to hear them”

he closed your laptop, pushing all your things aside, and sat on your desk right in front of you with his leg crossed over his knee, “how about this… you should just draw me.” he smirked as he looked down at your unimpressed face

you thought about it for a second before nodding, “you know what… that’s not too bad of an idea! i’ll do it.”

“ok great!” he said as he started taking his shirt off.

“kaiser no! i don’t need a nude model so please leave your shirt on!”

“fine…” he groaned, hesitantly removing his hands from his shirt and smoothed it out. he mumbled, “it’s nothing you haven’t seen before anyway”

you playfully rolled your eyes and got your stuff ready. you started drawing him as he did various poses while basking in all your attention. every now and then he would try to convince you that him stripping off his clothes would help more but you kept shooting that idea down. you had to deal with him constantly walking naked around the house already.

once you finished, you showed him the sketches. he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you multiple times, each one on a different spot on your face. “wow you did such a good job! you captured my beauty so well”

he took photos of your sketches while gushing about how good of an artist you are and how blessed he is for having you (and also how blessed you are for having a great and attractive model like him)

the next day while he was out at practice, he showed off your drawings to his teammates, bragging about how beautiful and talented his partner is

a/n: haha hai so like i was planning on only sticking to hcs format for this blog but i really wanted to do like a drabble/hc thingy and i also have very little writing experience so sorry if this sucks ass. hope you enjoyed it!

this was supposed to be a three character post but i struggled to

think of another so if anyone wants a part 2 with diff characters, feel free to request so with the characters you want!

[cutiecorner]

Boats

Ficlet • Regressor! Bruce, caregiver! Alfred

@todayimfour said: "This is probably more of a doodle promt than writing but I feel like Bruce would have a blast with those lil bath toys that are the stacking boats"

In LOVE with this prompt!!! It can be a doodle AND a fic :3c enjoy!

“Bruce, poppet, don’t you think it’s time for a bath?”

Bruce stewed in his chair in front of the bat-computer. There was no doubt about it, he was kind of filthy. After a long mission in Gotham’s sewers to look for Killer Croc’s latest hide out, he went directly for the computer to catalog his findings. Not the best plan, but the one he decided to pursue in the moment. That moment was four hours ago, and he still hadn’t showered. Alfred had exhausted all of his avenues to get Bruce up and clean, but none had pulled him away from the computer. Except his last resort. Bruce was well aware that Alfred doesn’t call him pet names for just any reason. ‘Master Bruce’ was enough affection for the both of them, direct sweetness was a little much for daily happenings. Things had gotten particularly serious, Bruce thought, for Alfred to “poppet” him. He considered the possibility of going along with it, but he simply had too much work to do. He grunted to communicate as much. Alfred frowned, but was quickly hit with an idea. 

“Well, I suppose we’ll have to save my special surprise for another night then.”

Bruce was being baited, he could tell, but… a surprise was kind of like a mystery. Bruce loved mysteries. He just couldn’t resist. 

“... what kind of surprise?”

Alfred smiled, “I guess you’ll have to come with me to find out.”

Bruce let out a long sigh, hating to be pulled from his work, but he had to admit - he kind of wanted to get clean.  Not to mention, a pleasant surprise never hurt anyone. Once he was up from the chair, he pulled down his cowl to release his messy hair. Alfred reached for his hand, taking it to Bruce’s shock. This was serious business. 

Alfred led Bruce to the bathroom, and Bruce quickly took off his dirty suit to deposit in the laundry basket. He was starting to realize that he really did feel icky. Icky? He thought, surprised at his internal choice of words. Was he…

“I’ll start the water, dear, you go potty”

Bruce pouted. He did not go potty, he was far too big for potty. He ruminated on his big-ness as he did what Alfred told him anyway. After all, he would never outgrow taking orders from Alfred. Alfie knew everything.

“All done?” Alfred asked.

Bruce nodded in response, taking a seat in the bathtub. Alfred ran the showerhead over him to get the worst of the grime off, then started to fill the tub. Bruce always felt awkward waiting for the water to fill up, but was soon distracted by the bubbles forming. Alfie put some bubble bath in, it smelled nice too. He took a deep breath, taking in the lavender scent. He felt relaxed, fuzzy…

“I suppose it’s time for your surprise, hm?”

A bath surprise? Strange… Bruce wondered. What could be a surprise for the bath?

Before he could ponder, Bruce was presented with a pack of brightly colored boat toys.

“A bath toy? Don’t you think I’m a little old?” Bruce whined. 

“Oh, never.”

Alfred set a few of the boats in the now-full tub.

“Look, they can float, and you can fill them up with water, they even stack,” Alfred grinned.

Hrn, Bruce responded, not wanting to give in to a baby toy. He scrubbed at his hair as he tried to ignore the floaties… but they were so pretty. He bet they could go pretty fast if he pushed them. He thought about the splashy water and the ripples… No! He thought, Don’t get distracted. One of the boats floated over to him. He flicked it away. It did go pretty far! He found himself smiling. He grabbed another boat, skipping it across the water. Now he was laughing. Soon, he was playing. He filled the boats up with water till they sank, he raced them, he sorted them. 

“Alfie, look how many boats! They’re all stacked up and they still go!”

“Oh wow,” Alfred chuckled.

Bruce continued to play as Alfred finished washing him.

“Alright, pumpkin, you’re all done.”

“No!” Bruce cried, “my boats…”

Alfred smiled.

“I promise you can play with your boats tomorrow, love.”

“You promise?”

“I swear,” Alfred smiled. 

[agent-cupcake]

Crybaby

Pairing: Sylvain Jose Gautier x f!Reader

Synopsis: Sylvain likes making you cry, that's the plot.

Warnings: explicit smut, dub/noncon

Tags: dacryphilia, rough sex, dirty talk, slight infantilization

Word Count: 4.8k

Notes: This was a short little doodle that popped into my head while I was trying to sleep and then, and then, and then. I'm not sure I'll ever post the things I've been trying to work on but whatever, here's some good ole fashioned nastiness. Also trying to find good photos of Sylvain to use as a banner quickly got annoying so I gave up.

Pathetic, stupid girl. That’s all you were, and it was all you could think as you found yourself back in the same place you always went. Hiding from everybody else. Crying all alone because you couldn’t contain your emotions like a normal person. Running away. But even if it was juvenile and misguided and stupid, what else were you supposed to do? Quickly excusing yourself seemed a better alternative than letting everybody see a grown woman crying at her own party. Over the cruel antics of an infamously womanizing man, no less. 

Dabbing at your eyes, you tried to regain your composure. It shouldn’t have bothered you so much. You shouldn’t have let him get to you. He was mean, and cruel, and you were only giving him what he wanted by reacting like this.

You needed to go back to the party, to smile, and prove that you weren’t affected in the least. Stop being such a pathetic crybaby. Grow up. 

“Oh, there you are,” Sylvain said, his voice startling you out of your slump against the wall, all of the hairs on the back of your neck standing straight up and heart set to racing. 

How had he found you? Of all the hiding spots you had, this was your favorite for escaping from parties. It was your secret, your little alcove, an out-of-the way corner far away from the noise. He didn’t belong here. 

“Sylvain,” you acknowledged, unable to say anything else, your eyes darting behind him to your only possible escape. In your state, you had effectively cornered yourself. All alone with Sylvain. Again. 

“I was wondering where you ran off to. We all got worried when you ran off so fast.” He spoke as if he was relieved to find you. As if he hadn’t tracked you down on purpose. As if he were utterly ignorant to why you had run in the first place. 

“I don’t wanna talk to you,” you said, refusing to look him in the face directly because then he’d see your red cheeks, he’d see the tears clinging to your eyelashes and he already knew but you didn’t want to give him the pleasure of seeing it too. Hopefully the shadows covered the most damning evidence, although you weren’t sure it mattered. 

“I owe you an apology,” he said.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you said louder, glaring hard at his boots. 

“I know,” he said, raising his hands and eyebrows in innocence. So amiable, so approachable. So believable. “We don't have to talk, but I need you to know that I was just joking around earlier.”

“It’s fine,” you said curtly, desperate to refuse him any other reaction, hoping he’d get bored and leave it alone.

“I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“I’m not,” you told him, although the increasingly shrill tone in your voice said otherwise. You hated yourself for it, hated Sylvain for making you so upset. Hated the whole ugly, awful situation. 

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”  

The handle you had on your emotions had been weak to begin with, but that finally set you off, the horrible cruelty sending a rush of overwhelming, despairing dizziness right up to your head. “Yes you did!” you exclaimed, unable to hold your tongue even though you knew you should have. 

“No, I hate seeing you cry,” he said, acting surprised by your accusation. Then he shrugged, dark eyes narrowing a little. “It’s not my fault you’re so sensitive.”    

"I’m not!” you told him, unable to quell the flare up of helpless indignance. “It’s you. I don’t understand why you’re so mean to me. I never… I don’t understand.” 

Although you weren’t sure why, that had been the exactly wrong thing to say. You could tell by the set of his shoulders, by the shift in his expression. If it were a play, you had just given him his cue.

“You didn’t seem to think I was being mean the other night,” Sylvain said. “Or the night before that. Actually, if I remember correctly, you seemed like you were having a good time.”

A furious flush crawled over your face, hot enough to leave you lightheaded, blazing with shame and disgust and regret. “No. That wasn’t….” 

“Wasn’t… what? Your fault?” Sylvain asked, his eyebrow raising slightly. “Right. Nothing is ever your fault. Not as long as you flash everybody those big doe eyes and act like you're a victim.”

“That’s not it,” you said, but there was no strength to your words. Not out of a lack of conviction, but because if you spoke any louder you’d definitely cry. "I…"

He waited, but there was nothing else you could think of to say. 

“You really have no idea what else to do, do you? Well, everybody else might believe it, but I don’t.”

“I don’t care what you…” You shook your head, trying to regain even a shred of composure. “I don’t care. You're a… a…” 

“What?” Sylvain prompted. “What am I?” 

“A bully!” you exclaimed suddenly, loudly, hands balled into ineffectual fists at your sides.

“Really? I’m a… bully?” he asked incredulously. “Seriously? I swear, you’re such a kid sometimes.”

Your eyes burned with fresh tears. Tears of anger, of humiliation, of exhaustion. “Just stop. Leave me alone.” 

“Stop what?” Sylvain asked. “I came to apologize. You’re the one making such a big deal out of it.” 

“I’m not!” 

“You are. Just like earlier, all I was doing was playing around but then you had to go and make me look like the bad guy.” He hesitated, taking a step closer. “Hold on, are you gonna cry?” 

Your chin wobbled, your throat swelling up, your hands shaking. “No.” 

“Go on,” Sylvain invited. “Prove my point. You want me to feel sorry for you, right? You want me to fawn over you like everybody else.”  

“I don’t!”

“You don’t?” he asked, feigning surprise. He waved it off a second later, smiling like it had been a joke. “Ah, don’t give me that look. I get it. It’s all about the attention.” 

“I don’t want attention,” you insisted, the burning getting worse. Burning your cheeks, like embers behind your eyes. 

Sylvain rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you do. And you wanna know how I know?”

“No, I’m… I’m done. I’m going back,” you said rather than answer, holding your head high with a brittle sort of strength. You would walk past him, and it would be fine. You didn’t need to be scared. Last time—no, this wouldn’t be like last time. If you set boundaries, if you were firm, it would be okay. Holding your breath, you began to scurry past him, your entire body tense enough to snap. 

“Wait, hold on,” Sylvain said, grabbing you around the waist when you were close enough. You protested with a yelp, trying to escape his grasp, desperate to get away. Because that worked so well before. 

“I’ll scream,” you told him, pushing at his hands, your heart beating so fast you worried he could hear it too.

“No you won’t,” he said with an easy-going sort of exasperation, crowding you further into the corner before letting you go. He wasn’t physically restraining you, but you were just as trapped. Between a rock and a hard place. “Just calm down, okay?”

You sniffed, trying to compose yourself. He was right. If you screamed and somebody came, what would they think? What would Sylvain tell them? 

“Right… What was I saying?” he asked. “Oh, yeah. The reason I know you want attention is because even though you know I’m no good, even though you cry about how much of a bully I am, as soon as I made a move on you, you were more than happy to go along with it.” He smiled, teeth glinting in the low light as he shook his head. “For most girls, the Crest and title is enough, but you’re way more simple than that. You know, it’s pretty pathetic.” 

“No,” you told him, shaking your head desperately to reject his words. It wasn’t true. It wasn’t. “I-I want to go back.”

“Stop being such a baby,” he teased, reaching out to ruffle your hair. You flinched, slapping his hand away. That made Sylvain freeze, his smile dropping. Instead he braced his arm on the wall behind you, your chests nearly touching with each of your frantic breaths. “Fine, fine. If you tell me to stop and mean it, I’ll stop.” 

“Stop!” 

“That’s the best you got?” he asked with an incredulous little laugh. He was close enough that you could feel the puff of air, smell the wine on his breath. “Really?” 

“Sylvain, stop!”

“That was even worse.”

“Please, stop,” you begged, breaking down now because he wouldn't listen anyway, no matter how you said it. It was all just make-believe to trick you into doing exactly what he wanted. Foreplay. And you knew that, so where was the steel in your voice? 

“This is your problem. Nobody’s ever gonna take you seriously when all you can do is whine at them.”

“I’m not whining!” 

He didn’t even have to respond to that, the raised eyebrow and nonplussed set of his mouth said more than enough. 

“I’m not,” you told him again, your voice weaker. 

Sylvain rolled his eyes. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s cute.” 

The compliment had you frantically trying to think of an escape. Knowing that it was doomed. This was all heading in an obvious direction, it probably had been his intention from the second he chased you away and you just played along, never smart enough to catch wise to his plots. 

“When you pout like that, I guess I do feel a little sorry for you,” he said. “I know what’ll make it better.” 

He cupped your chin to raise your head up. Gently, at first. When you tried to pull his arm away, those fingers dug into your jaw and cheeks, holding you in place.

“We have to… go back…” you said. “Otherwise people are gonna…”

“Talk? Yeah, I’m sure they will.” 

Sylvain kissed you before you could respond. Your mouth was open for his, and it didn’t matter if that was intentional or not, only that his tongue tasted like wine and it was really setting in that there was nothing you could do to stop this. He kissed like a romantic, his other hand dropping to cradle your head, holding you in a way you were sure had convinced dozens of girls of his affection and passion. 

That’s how he had been the other night too, trailing hot kisses down your body while you trembled, burying his head between your thighs until you were too wrought with pleasure to do anything other than let it happen, believing him when he told you how beautiful you were, how much he cared about you. 

Lies.

“Please, Sylvain,” you said, breaking the kiss enough to breathe. “I don’t want to.” 

“Don’t want to… what?” he asked softly, nudging your chin upward. 

You stared at his chest with blurry vision, refusing to meet his eyes. “I don’t want to… to do… anything.”

He laughed, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, let’s be honest, you never do anything. I don’t really care. The whole pillow princess thing suits you. So just relax and let me take care of it. You’re getting pretty good at that.”  

“No—nn-” Sylvain cut off your objection, grabbing a handful of your skirt to pull it up. Not all the way, just enough to get his other hand beneath the bunch of fabric. Your body bucked in an attempt to displace him, your thighs clenching, but a hard knee between your legs kept them open enough that he could rub against you over the barrier of your panties. 

“You look so confused whenever I touch you,” Sylvain said. “Before you start acting like you don’t want it, at least.” 

“I don’t!” You insisted, pushing at his arm. Sylvain didn’t budge, grabbing one of your wrists and pinning it to the wall. His other hand turned so his fingers could curl, wedging silky fabric between your pussy’s outer lips to drag forward, stopping when you unintentionally jerked in response to the pressure on your clit. You weren’t turned on, but you knew that was going to change if he started rubbing your clit the way he had last time, drawing blood between your legs to meet the demand of stimulation. Even if it was a completely physical, uncontrollable reaction, he would take it as proof that he was right.    

“I couldn’t figure out why at first, but I think I got it now.” 

You shook your head, barely able to follow along with his words as he continued touching you, grinding against your clit with those dirty little circles. If anything, the extra friction of your panties made it better. 

No. Not better. Not good. 

“You can’t believe that you’re not getting your way just by crying and whining,” Sylvain continued, uncaring that you weren’t really listening. “Because the princess always gets her way, doesn’t she?”

A soft whimper left your mouth, your head shaking in tight little motions to deny his accusation. “No,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut to delay the tears that were finally welling up, retracing the salty tracks from before. 

Sylvain laughed breathlessly, delighted. “You’re such a crybaby. I know you love it. You can’t get enough of me. That’s why you’re acting like this. You have no idea how to get somebody’s attention without throwing a fit.”

More tears slid down your face even as your body writhed against his, that tight ball of need building up beneath his relentless touch. Sylvain caught the tears with his lips before kissing you again, groaning in response to your nearly inaudible whine at the taste. Your pussy tightened, the muscles clenching around the hollow ache of nothingness, of need. The memory of his fingers, of his cock, made the absence that much more noticeable, a desire you only knew because of Sylvain.   

His tongue explored your mouth while you anxiously lagged behind, unable to meet his intensity as your body teetered ever closer to the crest of pleasure, all you could do was try to hold on, to keep your eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to block it all out. 

Suddenly, Sylvain pulled away. The loss of pressure on your clit made your eyes snap open, your hips jumping forward. He obviously noticed the reaction, his lips red and wet, his eyes alight. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not about to leave you high and dry,” he said, pushing your panties down enough to make room for his hand. 

“I do—oh-” Was your wonderfully eloquent response when he pressed two fingers into you. Longer, thicker, more insistent than your own. You trembled and gasped and moaned, your pussy sucking his fingers deeper, your hips bucking against him. You squeezed your eyes shut again, not wanting to see whatever expression Sylvain was wearing when he started laughing, his fingers scissoring and teasingly thrusting, dragging against your walls in a way that had you squirming helplessly. 

“With as much as you cry, I wouldn’t think you could get so wet,” he told you. “Guess you just want it that bad, huh?”

You gasped, squirmed, your fingers tightening in the front of his shirt, your other arm uselessly fighting against his grip. "No," you said weakly, trying not to make any noises he might take as affirmation. 

“Use your big girl words. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you hate it when I finger you. Tell me you hate it when I make you come.” 

“You’re… you’re wr-ah—” Your objection cut off with a sharp gasp, your body jerking in response to a particular curl of his fingers which must have been what he was waiting for because of the horribly sharp smirk he was wearing when your panicked eyes opened and met his.

“You know, now that I think about it, you really can’t do anything like a real adult. Throwing fits, running away when you get your feelings hurt… Even when we're fucking, all you can do is whine and cry and beg for me to take care of you.” 

Sylvain got you to prove his point without trying, curling his fingers, pushing them deep enough to fill that anxious ache of need, making you gasp and tremble, holding onto him even tighter for stability. 

“If you didn’t have somebody taking care of you at all times,” he told you, his voice a little lower, a little more mean, “you’d be completely helpless.” 

“No.”

“Can you even make yourself come? Have you tried?”

“Ss-stop.” 

“I bet you haven’t. Why would you when you’ve got me around to do it for you? You’re so spoiled. Fuck, it’s a good thing you’re cute.” 

The praise, his fingers, the way his palm ground against your clit with each pass, you tried to ignore it, to shut everything out, but you couldn’t. Tears dripped down your cheeks and you moaned for him, your pussy squeezing his fingers as the feverish build of pleasure threatened to snap. “I… I can’t…”

“You think? ‘Cause I think you can.”

“No, I can’t,” you said—you whined.  

It didn’t matter. A few thrusts more was all it took and you did, trembling and gasping and crying as you came, hitting your head against the hard wall when your body arched against him. The pain did nothing to distract you from the swell and burst of pleasure, the heat spreading out and fizzing like champagne bubbles in your core, all the way to your flushed cheeks and open mouth. Sylvain didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, dragging it out until you were writhing for another reason entirely. 

“Sss-sto-stop!” you said, pushing him away. 

“Why? Did you come?” he asked, feigning ignorance. “I thought you couldn’t.” 

“Stop,” you begged again.

“No,” he said. “Unless you were lying. I mean, I thought I felt you squeezing me extra tight, but…” 

“I did!” you exclaimed. “I did, I did, so please-” 

Finally, Sylvain pulled his fingers out of your spasming pussy, smiling like he’d won. You wilted, half glad to be spared the discomfort of oversensitivity and half disappointed by the fresh ache of emptiness. The contradiction was like a slap in the face, your body betraying you all over again.

“See, it’s not that hard to be honest,” Sylvain said. “So go ahead, admit it.” 

“Admit what?” you asked softly, wetly. 

“Admit that you’re a slut, and all you want is to get fucked by yours truly.” How he even managed to wink at you while saying something so profane, you had no idea, only that it made you flush so hot your ears stung. 

“You… you’re awful,” you told him.

“I’m a good-for-nothing asshole, yeah,” Sylvain agreed. “But at least I’m honest about it. You can’t even do that.”

“I-I’m not…”

“Yeah, you’re just a poor pathetic little crybaby getting taken advantage of by the mean, mean bully. Right?” 

“But… but you are,” you told him. Sylvain snorted derisively, peeling you off the wall and flipping you around, guiding you into a graceless stumble forward until you were facing the window. There wasn’t much of a view up here, especially not on a dark night like this. Sylvain pushed you down, forcing you to hold onto the window ledge for stability. Ignoring your complaints, he flipped your skirt up, kicking your feet apart a little. 

“Sylvain, please stop, I do-don’t-”

“Stop squirming around so much,” he told you, shoving your panties down. The fabric strained, pulled taut between your thighs. He used them to keep you still while undoing his belt and pants. “Don’t you think I deserve something too? I’ve been pretty nice, all things considered.” 

All you could do was wheeze in response, caught off guard by the sudden pressure of his cock pressing between your folds. Given the poor light and the position, there was a bit of fumbling. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and withdrew, letting you relax slightly. This wouldn’t work. Not in such a shameful position, not here where you could be found.

“Yeah, just like that. Relax for me,” Sylvain said sweetly, his voice contrasting with the harsh palm forcing you to bend down even more, your thighs burning as you rocked forward on your toes. When his cock returned, it was slick with saliva, easily pushing past your outer lips. As soon as you felt the head press between the tense muscles of your entrance, Sylvain’s hips snapped forward. 

He groaned low in his chest, one of the few honest things to come out of his mouth that night. You whimpered. Even if your body was tense, Sylvain had no issue pushing until his hips met your ass. You were wet and, despite any mental rejection on your part, ready for this. The stretch wasn’t the discomfort of your first time, but the heady weight of something that should have been natural and beautiful. Sylvain grabbed your hips to adjust himself within you, manipulating you into position while you scrambled to hold onto the stone with sweaty hands, your legs trembling. 

“I have no idea why you make such a big deal out of this. You obviously love it,” Sylvain said, satisfied. You gripped onto the window ledge a little tighter, your face scrunching up with more tears as he pulled out. Slowly, luxuriating in the sensation. Your pussy clenched down around him, your hips rolling before you could get enough control over yourself to stop. “Don’t get me wrong, I do too. Most of the time, I don’t really care, you know? Sex is… well, it’s sex. You have a girl one, two times, and the itch is scratched. But you… I don’t know what it is, either.”

The only answer you could manage was a stuttered, “Aaa-aa-ah-” when Sylvain pushed back in, pushing you onto your toes again as he filled you all the way. You didn’t do anything to stop him. Your body accepted it eagerly, your inner walls fluttering as you adjusted to his size, providing a fresh wave of wet arousal to soak his cock as he wiggled your hips and pulled out. Pathetic, embarrassing tears dripped onto the floor. 

“Next time we do this, I’ll need a mirror,” Sylvain said, his voice raspy. “I’ve never met a girl that cries so much when she comes. I didn’t think I’d be so into it, but—fuck.” He groaned, his hips clapping loudly against your ass. Even if he wasn’t talking and groaning, even if you weren’t whimpering and gasping and sniffling with each inexorably deep thrust, the vulgar sound of skin slapping skin would have been more than enough of a giveaway to what was happening to anybody passing by. 

Worse than that, worse than anything else, was that Sylvain knew what he was doing. He targeted your g-spot by using the grip he had on your hips to grind you on his cock, to keep you in place for him as he thrust harder, faster so you had no chance to keep up, to sort out the assault of stimulation and pleasure. You shook, tense enough to snap, your fingers clawing at the stonework for stability as your body drew inward, everything within you focused on the growing heat.  

“Please,” you gasped, desperate for it. Later you could blame the insanity of pleasure, of lust, of need. That’s what you did before, the way you denied blame. “Please ta-touch me, I-”

“What, now you want to come? I thought you hated this,” Sylvain teased. A helpless moan left your open mouth, tears and drool dripping onto the floor as you were rocked back and forth. “Heh. Maybe if you keep begging.” 

As he spoke, Sylvain twisted your hips, his cock grinding against your inner walls, pushing so deep you’d probably feel it if you pressed on your abdomen. The sound of his voice, the intensity of fullness, the mindless lust and despair, it hit too hard and you sobbed and hiccuped and moaned and came and you didn’t mean to, but your pussy desperately clamped down around him, your hips tilting upward, your back arching as that contentious ball of heat just snapped, filling you with pleasure, white hot and wonderful and feverish. Some part of you was grateful that he didn’t stop, or even slow down, just kept fucking you through the orgasm, letting you ride it out. 

“Seriously?” Sylvain asked with a short, hoarse laugh of disbelief. 

As the high faded, you tried to squirm away, a helpless sob wracking your body as the shame caught up with you. Sylvain didn’t let you go. If anything, he was being more rough, more frantic. 

“Most girls need more than that to come, but you couldn’t even wait for permission,” he said.

“Nn-no, I-I didn’t me-mean to.”

“Yeah?” Sylvain asked, mockingly indulgent. “It wasn’t your fault, was it, baby? You can’t help it, right?” 

You shook your head, knowing any answer you gave would just feed into his cruelty. 

Sylvain paused, leaning over to pull your torso upward. His fingers dug hard into your wet cheeks, his other arm holding your hips in place so he could keep going. 

“It’s fine, I don’t think I can last either,” he said, softer now, his hand raising to grope your tits through your dress. At this point, he was practically rutting into you. Using you. 

All you could do was whimper and whine and sob, just trying to hold on, unable to keep your pussy from squeezing him as he fucked you, writhing back against him helplessly because even this felt good. Terrible and cruel and good. 

“Later,” Sylvain said, his voice hoarse. Speaking because it made you react, got your pussy to tighten around him a little harder, made you whine a little louder. “Later, I‘m gonna give you a reason to cry, yeah? If you wanna… wanna act like a spoiled brat, I’ll treat you like one. Gonna look so hot swallowing my cock… Tied to my bed, begging me to fuck you… Covered with hickies…” 

“Sylvain,” you whimpered, hating the anxious, dark mixture of heat and fear his threats filled you with. He groaned even louder, his mouth opening to let out a low, sensual sigh that only worsened your feeling of helpless need, his hips slapping against your ass so hard it almost hurt. “Plea—ease, it-”

“Yeah, beg for it,” he told you eagerly, crushing you against him while he sought his end. 

“Nnngh-”

“Beg me to come inside of you… maybe you can keep it from slipping down your thighs when we go back. Otherwise you’ll get it all over your pretty dress.” 

You whimpered, sobbed, but that wasn’t much of a choice. Better inside of you where nobody would see, you could remember the mess from last time. 

“Please come inside of me,” you asked. Begged. You sounded desperate. You sounded like you wanted it. “Please, Sylvain. Come… inside..” 

Sylvain groaned, pressing his face against your neck as his hips lost any and all sense of tempo, his cock buried deep inside of you as he came with a loud, open sound that shuddered apart, holding you tight as he did. And then there was just stillness. Harsh breathing and heat and sweat and the stench of sex. He laughed a little, still breathless. Blissed out. “That was good,” Sylvain told you, kissing your neck before pulling out and letting you go. 

You stumbled forward, holding onto the window ledge, panting and shaking. Aware of the emptiness inside of you and the slick feeling of his cum drooling out of your cunt. No matter what he said, you didn’t think you could return to the party. Everybody would know. With shaking hands, you pulled your panties up, let your skirt fall back into place. You could hear Sylvain fixing his clothes too, but you didn’t want to look at him. You didn’t want to exist. 

“Guess I’ll go back first, give you some time to clean up,” he said, his voice mostly back to normal. 

“Okay,” you said, nodding. 

“You alright?” 

“Yes.”

“Hm. By the way, I meant it,” Sylvain told you, grabbing your wrist to turn you around and look at him. He didn’t really look that much worse for wear. Not like you felt. He smiled, dark eyes bright and smile slightly too sharp. “About later. Don’t think you’re off the hook just yet.”

You pulled your arm away, your chest tightening with panic and fear and excitement. Despair. Hatred. Self loathing. “No, this can’t… it can’t happen again.” 

“What are you gonna do—whine at me to stop?” he asked. “Cry and hope that I’ll feel bad? C’mon, baby. I know you liked it.”

You didn’t say anything, glaring at his chest in an attempt to keep yourself from responding to that taunt. 

“That’s what I thought,” Sylvain said. Not in a mean way. No, he sounded friendly, approachable. “I’ll see you later, babe.”    

[ntls-24722]

An ancestor to the Zebrapeople!

Partial stripes, mostly brown, and kind of sapient! I don't know how to explain their level of intelligence, but like... they have stone tools, but they currently can't create language, so imagine the setbacks from there. They're also mostly octopodal, and are only hexapodal for short bursts.

Zebrapeople actually have the facial problem that we have with the rest of their genus, where smiling is actually seen as a threat for everyone else. Or at least, the way they smile. The teeth being out bothers them, but not compared to how much the gums being exposed do.

Zebraelves evolved slightly tighter lips to have their teeth slightly out gives them a background sense of order since the baring of teeth, like in our primates, is a threat, and it also made the baring of gums a lot more dramatic. But as the species began to coagulate into one giant supercolony, the baring gums was recontextualized into the basis for most of their facial expressions.

Also; the origin of their spinnerets.

Hagfish method, baby! It's gross and works! Quagga-elves originate from a much wetter environment, so they could afford the water loss when making gross protein threads inundated with the stuff. But as they moved to more arid environments, the slime got drier and eventually was repurposed as silk... in the females.

Originally, male zebraelves were supposed to have venomous spurs, but I thought it'd be better for them to still have this basal trait. Partially because they need it more!

Fraternities are a treacherous journey and male zebraelves aren't maintaining nor with their subcolony for most of the time, so it's more useful to have a gross-out factor that keeps from from being food to literally everything than to have a durable building tool/textile.

And speaking of how treacherous the journeys of fraternities are;

This queen's boytoy is no longer a boy, she's become a worker after losing her hearing due to getting an ear infection because disabilty accommodations in fraternities are, no hyperbole, nonexistant, for a combination of the unfriendly job environment and fucked up eugenics reasons! I really did try to avoid the kind of real life problems they have, partially because I didn't want to give fictional little guys the same societal burdens we go through, but also because if I talk about shit like music man eugenics i sound 10x more insane than I already do. unfortunately it becomes a reoccurring thing when making fictional societies.

Her relationship with the queen is looked rather down upon - neither of them care very much, especially the queen, who finally has someone she can talk to who gets it, to put it plainly. The two reproductive sexes in zebraelves are very policed, which is a rather large problem in zebraelf society.

Also; Bipedal bugs! The best predator against Debu.

Their method is to use those two arms to latch on and just rake their sickle toe-claws against the skin as hard and fast as they can which is very effective against Debu, who, despite their brute strength, have very sensitive, weak skin! They're small, but fast, and they do a lot of damage really quickly, which is the problem, since they'll tear through already open wounds and deepen them, even leading to infection.

Sindeer often has to deal with them, since she's a large target as a lone huntress.

i forgot her back fur. dont look

Also: today was my last day of class! Which, paradoxically, means my account is actually going to slow down? All of the almost daily music man posts are actually class doodles, and now there's going to be no more class for me to get bored in and make music man. But that means more digital artwork, which is generally higher quality, soooo???? double edged sword

[stars-tonight]

Hey! I would love to do a match up then (gyaaa I’m excited)!! I would like to be matched with Haikyuu men (post time skip because I’m an adult). I would love a long head canon too but I respect the writer grind so do what you’re comfortable with! (Romantic too). I go by she/her and my ideal type must meet three requirements: 1. has to make me laugh (isn’t difficult I laugh at literally EVERYTHING 80% of my day is just me giggling at tik toks) 2. I have a big fluffy golden doodle, she is a therapy dog and they need to be ok with her giving kisses and sleeping on my bed 3. Kind respectful man! Kindness is so attractive. I am 5’8 I look like this: (ME) in case that doesn’t work im slender and I have blue eyes and brown hair. As you might know, one of my hobbies is fan fic writing but I also LOVE taekwondo and in another life I would like to be a taekwondo champion! I’m an archivist and I love love reading manga and watching anime. I also have a nasty spending habit on anime merchandise (I’ve dropped 200$ on anime stuff). Physically my ideal type r muscular guys (I hate tsuki so plz not him). My dream date is snowball fight and ice skating!! If I was dating a volleyball player I’d be their biggest fan (wearing their face on a tshirt) and I hope my partner would be my biggest fan too! My love language is food :)) I hope that’s enough!

headcanons

🥛 bokuto is the unintentionally funny type

🥛 like he's supposed to be this really cool ace but actually if you search up his name it's just his fans editing all his emo modes into memes

🥛 he doesn't mind it too much though

🥛 (he probably isn't even aware that this was a thing)

🥛 but you'll definitely be laughing at his dramatics

🥛 if you're upset he'll probably go look up cheesy dad jokes and sing them to you to cheer you up

🥛 or he'll go running to the store (full on sprinting) to buy you all your favorite food

🥛 bokuto definitely would not mind your dog

🥛 he's like a dog himself lol

🥛 they'd probably have some sort of shared language

🥛 he's the type of guy who'd plant a huge kiss on her nose and just run around with her in the park

🥛 bokuto is a muscular guy, right

🥛 so if you see him you'll probably think he owns a german shepherd or another scary dog

🥛 but instead you'll just see him running around like a little kid with a goldendoodle lol

🥛 bokuto seems like a natural bed hogger

🥛 so bokuto + dog = you're probably not getting a lot of room on the bed

🥛 also bokuto is definitely kind-hearted

🥛 he's not scheming or sassy

🥛 when he sees that you're good at taekwondo he'll have a minor crisis

🥛 because he's supposed to protect you, right?

🥛 so why does he feel like you can protect him better than he can protect you?

🥛 but would very quickly realize it's cool and just admires you more

🥛 watches anime with you and dramatically reacts to everything

🥛 cheers when the protagonist wins, gasps at plot twists, cries loudly at emotional moments, etc.

🥛 imagine bokuto in a snowball fight lol

🥛 it'd be lowkey so cute

🥛 he looks for you at every game

🥛 when he sees you wearing a shirt with his face on it he just lights up

🥛 waves excitedly and probably jumps up and down to make sure you can see him, unaware the cameras are on him

🥛 you can bet he's playing his best after seeing you in the crowds

🥛 after a win he's running to you as fast as he can and scooping you up and swinging you around lol

🥛 he'd DEFINITELY be your biggest fan

🥛 comes to anything you do and for sure brings a banner

🥛 and sometimes you have to be like "not everyone brings a banner and a cowbell to [insert the occasion here]"

🥛 (also tsukki's not muscular anyway the man is a string bean lmao)

runner up for you was miya osamu!

A/N: there you go, i hope you liked it! also girl you're BEAUTIFUL 🫶