#unedited sorry!

[danmeichael]

shen jiu's brother is exposing STERNOCLEIDMASTOID ALSO KNOWN AS THE SCM (PICTURED IN DRAWING) in addition to being implied to be exposing THE JUGULAR NOTCH BETWEEN HIS TWO CLAVICLES (COLLARBONES) SOMETIMES ALSO REFERRED TO AS THE CLAVICLE THOUGH IT IS OUT OF FRAME for every beast on the peak??? like some kind of harlot????

[cnl0400]

Character references for the undateables

I love all the little details!!

Sharing these because knowledge should be #free and #available to #everyone

[ellieputellas]

pretend | alexia putellas x reader

Alexia contemplates her feelings as you pretend a drunken kiss between you two never happened.

contains: angst, some making out, barçafemeni!reader, avoidant!reader, just a lot of angst tbh | word count: 2k+

a/n: not proofread, just wrote this cause i couldnt sleep and was listening to lizzy mcalpine's hate to be lame which gave me this idea

it's always on the tip of my tongue but i stop myself from saying it tell myself it's not the right time or something dumb

The last night of the Champion's League celebration was supposed to be just like any other victory party—loud, drunk, messy. On nights like this, it was natural to make a fool of yourself.

Alexia was never immune to the drunken stupidity — the typical drunken dancing and singing, foolish antics that got the team laughing. (In one victory party, Alexia found herself dancing with someone else's sports bra wrapped around on her head.)

But on that particular night, her drunken act of stupidity wasn't just loud karaoke or making a fool of herself. No, it was way different.

At some point, during the night, you two had gotten drunk and began grinding on each other at the dance floor. It was normal for teammates to get a bit touchy during parties so no one bat an eye but Alexia knew this thing happening between you two was different.

It started with playful dancing then you somehow found a way to plant a few kisses on her neck. It didn’t take long until you two ended up stumbling into the vacant restroom, kissing each other desperately.

Some kind of tension has always lingered between the two of you before but Alexia always chalked it up to the two of you being newly single. She always brushed it off, thinking it might just be her reading into things. Afer all, you have always been her type and she figured she might be interpreting your dynamic through wishful thinking.

But that night, that small tension she felt burst into something more, and she understood that this meant it wasn't just her who felt attraction towards the other.

She felt your hands desperately cling onto her as you locked lips. Your tongue glided on her bottom lip before ultimately finding its way into her mouth. You took turns pinning each other against the flimsy walls of the cramped stall.

Alexia's hand has found it way to your neck, gently tilting your head up with it before pressing her mouth against your neck to kiss, lick, and bite at you. You gasped in satisfaction as the taller girl kissed your neck.

You grabbed her face again to kiss her deeper, more intensely. Alexia felt that this was the type of kiss that could lead to something more; the likelihood of you crossing that line increasing with every minute that passed.

You gently pushed her off of you, as you tried to catch a breath. Your eyes remained locked as you stayed within close proximity. After a while, you noticed the hunger in Alexia's eyes simmer down into something more... soft and intimate.

This time, Alexia gently touched your face and moved to capture your lips again but this time, you looked away and avoided her kiss. You sighed before hurriedly unlocking the stall, walking out the restroom, and leaving Alexia all alone without even a goodbye.

Alexia felt dumbfounded. She thought that this kiss was your way of addressing the tension, a way of telling her that maybe you felt attracted to her too. But with the sudden exit, she began to doubt herself.

She wanted to talk to you about it the next time you saw each other but it became immediately evident to her that you were set on pretending like nothing happened.

You still joked with her in training, still bantered with her, tell stories like normal. You acted exactly like you did before; it was as if she dreamt up the kiss.

She played along like nothing had shifted, like your kiss had been meaningless. She even laughed at your jokes during training. But every word felt like a lie, every shared laughter felt like a stab.

In her mind, she wished you'd at least act different. She would rather you hated her or avoided her, something—anything to confirm that there was something real, something more.

But you acted like it was nothing.

She felt like she was going crazy, even doubting her own sanity at some point. She spent the past few months trying to forget it ever happened. But the more she tried, the more it hurt her. Because how could you pretend that all of that was nothing... when it felt like everything for her.

But then you kiss me like you do And we're right back where we started from

It was Pina’s birthday.

Alexia initially didn't want to go. It was in the middle of the season and she knew that the team captain being there meant everyone would be too hesitant and shy to drink, knowing she was around.

But she knew how Pina was, and she knew Pina would pester her endlessly if she didn't at least make an appearance.

So, she did. She went to the place late and much to her surprise, most of the team was behaving. A few of the players were nursing a bottle of beer but nothing excessive. She figured she must have done something right for her teammates to be so well-disciplined even without her hovering around them.

Well... she thought that until she saw you.

Of course, she's drunk. She thought to herself.

You were already tipsy, practically glowing, and laughing too loudly. The sight of you sent a jolt of something unfamiliar through her.

You had your arms wrapped around Caro, who was trying too hard to help you sober up by making you drink from a bottle of water. Alexia sighed and made her way to save Caro from your drunkenness.

Caro gave her a thankful look as she took over in aiding to you. She let you drape your arms around her as she wiped the stray hairs that stuck to your face.

"In the middle of the season?" She asked you in a stern voice. "Really?"

You frowned at her. "You wouldn't get it."

Alexia just sighed as she continued what Caro was doing, desperately trying to get you to sober up. "Did something happen?"

You stayed silent but you were too easy to read when you were drunk. Your glazed expression gave away that you were going through something. You still had an arm wrapped around Alexia, as if to keep yourself balanced, but you were also trying to avert your gaze away from her.

Alexia sighed. "I should take you home."

You bit your lip but you nodded. Alexia sighed and held your waist as you kept an arm around her; she was afraid if she let go, you'd fall over.

The car ride was silent. She wanted to talk to you about why you were getting irresponsibly drunk, why you seemed upset and... why you acted like your kiss never happened. But instead, she stayed silent, and as did you.

Alexia pulled up to your apartment building. After she parked, you unclasped your seatbelts but neither of you made a move to exit the car.

Alexia sighed. "Do you wanna talk... about anything?"

You shifted your gaze towards her, taking in how pretty she looked tonight. She was wearing a leather jacket on top of a cropped shirt, revealing a sliver of her abdomen. Your eyes now fluttered to her face. You took in her warm eyes, her nose, her lips. She looked so besutiful even under the dim lighting. You thought, fuck, why does she have to be so gorgeous?

You hummed. "I'm sorry I took you away from the party... especially since you look so good tonight."

Alexia started growing anxious as you said those words. "Well, I didn't really plan on going anyway..." Alexia said.

Drunkenly, you reached out to cup her face and guiding it upward so she'd meet your gaze. You stayed that way for a bit, just looking at each other's eyes. Until finally, you couldn't take it.

You leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss. It was more gentle than before, more intentional. As you pulled away, you studied her expression but Alexia just looked pained.

She sighed and looked away, causing your hand on her cheek to drop. She took a deep breath as she gripped the steering wheel with her hands and rested her head on top of it.

Emotions were overwhelming her. This was the long overdue confirmation she wanted from you so bad yet... it felt so wrong.

After a minute, Alexia finally spoke. "Why?"

"Huh? Why what?" You asked back.

She lifted her head slightly and locked eyes with you again. "Just... why?"

You sighed. "I don't know... I just want to kiss you."

Alexia looked exasperated. She took a moment to think. Do you remember last time? Why did you act like it never happened? Why do you want to kiss me now? Why do you only want to kiss me when you're drunk? Do I mean something? Do the kisses mean something? Do you... like me like I like you?

She had a million questions flying around her head but she settled on one. "Tell me honestly. Do you remember the last time we kissed?" She locked eyes with you and this time, you could see pain behind them. She tried to be firm with the way she asked but the vulnerability seeped through.

You blinked at her. “I think about it all the time,” you admitted before you could even consider lying; your inebriation made you too honest.

Alexia chest tightened as she felt hurt by the admission. Am I not supposed to be happy... that she thinks about it too like I do?

Before she could react, you were trying to lean in again as your face cupped her cheek, trying to kiss her. And that's when Alexia snapped into clarity.

No. You were drunk. This wasn’t... healthy. She couldn’t let herself do this again, not when everything between you was so confusing, so undefined.

“No,” Alexia whispered, gently pushing you away, though her hands shook with the desire to do exactly the opposite.

You looked at her with an expression that could only read as upset to Alexia but she tried to ignore it as she unlocked your car door. "I think you should go."

You stayed steady for a minute, twiddling your thumbs then staring at her but she kept her head low, trying so hard not to look at you until you finally stepped out without another word.

Hate to admit but it might be true Hate to admit but I think you knew Hate to be lame but I might love you

After that night, as expected, you didn't acknowledge the kiss. But this time, you started acting cold.

No more joking around. No more banter. You'd be laughing it up with the other Barça girls but as soon as Alexia came over, you'd bail and make an excuse to avoid her.

It was killing her, just being like this. Mapi had taken notice and pulled Alexia aside to ask if she was alright, which Alexia just hesitantly nodded.

Mapi didn't believe it for a moment. "Is it because of..." Mapi trailed off as she discreetly turned her gaze towards you as you were busy on your phone in the locker room.

Alexia sighed and said nothing but that was enough confirmation for Mapi. She sighed. "You need to talk it out," She said. "It's kinda affecting your dynamic on and off the pitch."

Alexia knew Mapi was right. Not only was it taking a toll on her emotions to be dealing with this awkward tension and silent avoidance, it wasn't long before shit gets worse and the team performance is affected. If it was only affecting her, she would have dropped the whole issue but she knew this was beyond you and her.

She caught you before training the next day, her voice sharp but shaking as she confronted you. "Can we talk?"

You sighed and nodded. "Yeah, Capi?"

She winced at the nickname, knowing that it was your tactic to distance yourself from her. Just another subtle way of deflecting.

“I know you feel the same way,” Alexia blurted it out, her words tumbling out too quickly. She regretted being so outright but she also no longer wanted to waste time. She had to do what she had to do.

Alexia sighed as she ran her hand through her hair. “And... it hurt when you acted like nothing happened. Like it didn’t matter.” Her chest heaved with the weight of everything she hadn’t said.

You stayed silent which just forced Alexia into doing all the talking. "I don't know what's going on with you but... why me? Why are you roping me into this?"

"It's nothing." You muttered.

Alexia grew frustrated. "Bullshit."

"What do you want me to do, Alexia?" Your eyes finally met hers.

"I don't know." She groaned. "Admit you like me too... or even just admit you kissed me. Tell me why you did. Tell me if it mattered. Fuck, I'd settle with you telling me it was a mistake. I just... need to hear from you that..."

"Nothing happened,” you said firmly, almost as if to convince yourself as much as her.

Alexia’s heart sank. She was there just begging for you to admit it did, even if you say it was a mistake; she just needed to hear it from you. Instead, you denied her again.

“But—”

“Drop it,” you snapped, turning quickly, rushing away before she could say anything more.

She watched you go, her hands shaking at her sides. There was nothing more she could do. She was left standing there, confused and hurt, unable to understand why it hurt so much. How could you pretend it meant nothing when everything inside her screamed that it meant everything?

Do I love her? Do I need her? Do I want her? Do I care enough to say That I love her, that I need her? 'Cause I don't but I wanna feel okay

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months and Alexia still couldn't forget what happened.

Your dynamic on the pitch suffered for a bit but it recovered. And pretty soon, you were acting normal again around her.

As if nothing, nothing at all, had happened.

For a while, Alexia had convinced herself she had moved on from it. It was just two kisses, she told herself on multiple occasions. You don't even like her that much.

But there were nights when she couldn't help but be consumed with confusion and frustration. She hated how it happened—how you treated her, how you pretended nothing was real.

On most days, she hated you. She acted normal around you, sure, but there was an added layer now. Everything was more guarded. Even if she asked you often how you were and laughed at your jokes, your relationship was hurt and it could never go back to how it was.

And even if she did despise you for what you did... she still couldn’t stop the way her heart raced when she saw you. She couldn’t shut off the part of her that still hoped that maybe, one day, you'd admit to her that it did happen and maybe that you feel a certain softness for her too.

But she knew it wasn't happening any time soon and now, all she can do is what you do best — pretend.

[spurbleu]

gnawing at my fist.

soap being so desperate for you he starts biting him self when he jerks off.

oh you’re such a delicate thing. fresh laundry, warm clay, tea set. a beauty.

but its when his weeping tip is snivels into your drooling hole that you claw and snarl and kick. the feral beneath floral shampoos pant like a ferocious animal, awoken by coitus sweat on the back of your neck.

to his greatest pleasure, as he peels himself from you, he’s covered by red, flushed dents of your canines. can’t help but fuck you in front of a mirror just to watch as the wonderful marks you made stretch and break around the bulge of his shoulder.

but on deployment, he doesn’t have his little pet. no wild, wet pussy to squirm when he bullies himself inside. no little hands that scrape down his back. no teeth.

so he settles for the next best thing- pushing his forearm into his mouth as he muffles grunts- fucking his churlish palm in shallow, shuttering thrusts. bites like you would, cockdumb and desperate. thinks of the sweet little moans you’d make and how his name, a rarity in base, sounded so addictive coming from the wet of your lips, and-

cums when the pearls of his teeth break skin and blood swipes the top of his mouth.

freshens up with the thought of you still stamped in red ink on his brain and arm, but it’s not until the team is tucking over for the night when ghost sends him a look.

��fockin nasty.”

“‘scuse me?”

“t’ose bastards. never play fair.”

“….aye.”

[ayyy-pee]

Center Stage

suguru whimpers as he pounds into you, folds your legs until there’s a knee on each side of your head. you're so good he has to bite back a gasp when your walls squeeze down on him, gripping his cock so fucking hard he sees stars. his eyes roll back when he reaches a hand down to your clit, swollen and sensitive and he feels the sudden gush of your arousal drip down between your bodies. suguru loves how your tight little cunt always takes him so well, how it makes room for him and holds him like it never wants to let go.

every thrust, every roll of his hips, every slap of your skin meeting has suguru leaning down to groan into the crook of your neck. he doesn’t let up, pounding into you like a man possessed. and he is. your pussy makes him insane, makes him want to scream, makes him want to fucking cry.

it feels like heaven in your walls.

suguru loves to look between you, where your bodies connect and see the creamy mess you’ve made on him. fuck he loves how your pussy always makes a mess. it’s one of his favorite things about you.

that and the way your lips part when he pistons his hips a certain way, touches that sweet spot you love. how your head falls back and your back arches when he wraps his thick fingers around your neck, makes you hold his weight as he fucks into you with reckless abandon. the way your little moans fall from that pretty mouth he loves to bury his cock in. he loves all of that.

he loves the way your hands find his hair and you pull. not gentle at all, just the way he likes. you’re as a desperate and fucking needy as he is.

“come on baby. tell me how much you love my cock.” he pleads. he knows you love it. you've told him plenty of times. but suguru also loves to get his ego stroked.

“i love it, ah- fuck, fuck i love your cock!” you whimper beneath him like the good girl you always are. all he ever has to do is ask and you’ll deliver every time. so obedient. it’s why you’re his favorite.

suguru can feel your walls softly convulsing around him. you’re so close. but while your words were good, they’re weren’t good enough. so suguru slows his pace, staring down at you with half lidded eyes. he wants you to do it right.

“pretty girl forgot her manners,” he chides, clicking his tongue. “i love your cock, what?”

he bottoms out with a particularly harsh thrust that has you crying out, your fingers tightening in his tresses and he chuckles, his dick twitching within the confines of your cunt.

“oh fuck! i love your cock master geto”

there it is.

you peer up through your lashes at the man above you and the smug smile on suguru’s lips sends you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm rushing over you, your body shivering as wave after wave hits you. and your sweet lips muttering his formal title, it has him burying his face in your neck again, whining as his hips stutter with every sloppy thrust until his balls tighten.

he grips your thigh hard, high pitched whimpers falling freely from his mouth as his cock stiffens and his hot, white seed fills your twitching pussy. the release has suguru shaking, struggling to hold his weight as your pussy milks him of every fucking drop.

you’re both panting, both catching your breath as suguru kisses you desperately, pressing kisses to your face, to your lips. and he’s still cumming

“m-master geto,” you mutter between kisses. he hasn’t pulled out of you, just keeps rolling his hips into your slowly, softly as he continues to litter your lips and face with kisses.

suguru hums in acknowledgment.

“you’ll be late to session tonight,” you warn him. “you know there will be big donors there. you don’t want to be late.”

ah yes, the work never stops for suguru. he would love to stay here, on the floor of his stage but it wouldn’t be a good look to have his donors and worshippers walk in on you both in the middle of such a salacious act.

and you, his most favorite follower. there's no way in hell allow anyone to leave the room alive if they saw you this way. no, you're meant to be seen by him this way and him alone. even with your current situation, he knows you are loyal to him. so with a hiss, suguru pulls out of you, smirking when he sees the way you pout at the loss of fullness.

cute.

“come and see me after session” he tells you with one last press of his lips to yours. he crawls off of you carefully and fixes his robe. you nod, watching as he exits the room.

he knows where to find you.

suguru always finds you the moment he enters the room, packed with worshippers ready to give themselves to him. and you’re among them, loyal as ever to him, even as you bow politely and pledge yourself to the organization alongside your husband.

[toffeebrews]

DELTAAA DELTA SANS CHEERS!!!!

Delta sans by AnimatedZorox!!

As always, here some ramblings:

His pants are heavily inspired by hot-headed anime characters such as Bakugo and Natsu, who tend to wear baggy pants. Aside from just personality, his baggy pants allow for more mobility and protection than the shorts? maybe.

He seems like a guy who would wear activewear. He has the jacket cause hes still sorta connected to sans.

The wraps on his legs are supposed to go all the way down to his skeleton feet, which I believe are used to support and prevent injury and improve balance :)

He has his friendship bracelet on him at all times, although sometimes he'll put it in his pocket if he's gonna like fight or smth

The tie around his waist is for style and so they're more form fitting. It looking a karate belt was accidental but maybe a happy accident?

The stripes were supposed to reflect Colors stripes on his outfit! I like to think Color was one of Delta's first friends in the Omega timeline. Also just, because he has stripes on his eyes why not his clothes?

[dinsbeskar]

In the Dark of the Night (Sauron/F!Reader)

Reader is long starved of her lover, after centuries apart, these are the fantasies that plague her in the night

Prequel: Wicked Game // Sequel: Evil Will Find Her

AO3 Link

Warnings: smut! 18+, female masturbation (reader), unprotected P in V sex, Sauron likes eating you out apparently?? Begging, praise kink, biting (only a little), kinda rough sex?? Lots of yearning, he absolutely adores you

A/N: I wrote this at 3am instead of sleeping, it is very much a "bashed it out and now I'm running away" type of fic. Is he there or isn't he?? Idk, it's up to you!! I imagined him as Annatar in this, but you're welcome to imagine any face you fancy, he is a shapeshifter after all!

There is an unending, seeking void in Middle Earth. You know it well, for it resides deep in your own being, hungry and desperate and vicious like a starved dog. It hadn't always plagued you, but after an age without your lover at your side, the void has filled the aching hole in your heart, tendrils of heavy nothing reaching out into the gloom of your bedchamber and threatening to engulf you whole.

It is in the black of night, when the darkest sky is overhead before dawn begins to break, that the void fills you the most. Sobbing has long ceased to ease your emptiness, so you lie in your feather bed, high in the elven city, and think of him, your lover's phantom figure nestled into you, fingers tracing your sides while whispers of sweet nothings pass between you. At least for a moment, you are not alone. Sometimes you swear you can hear him plain as day, your mind soothing your aching heart with memories of his scent pricking your nose as if he were right there beside you, holding you close as he used to, centuries ago. It is with those memories, those fantasies, that you think of him and touch yourself as he loved to, hand between your thighs, dancing across your chest, on your lips, needy for more.

He was quick to anger, and his wrath was nigh unchallenged, but never had you suffered it. The most gentle words and soft touches were reserved for you alone, revered and exalted in his bed, protected from the carnage his master had wrought on your kind. His soft hair grazing your face as he held himself over your trembling form, caressing every inch of you for the thousandth time as if it were the first.

You feel him next to you, on top of you, surrounding you, the smoky metallic smell of the forge permeating your bedsheets as if he'd spent these long, lonely centuries ravishing you. Your hand moves faster as you near your peak, biting back the deep moan in your throat as you picture him at the apex of your thighs, wicked tongue bringing you closer to your pleasure, tugging at your swollen clit and delving into your wet folds.

"All this for me?" You feel his smile against your mound as real as the pillow under your head. "My good girl, so ready for me, always so willing and waiting and wanting..."

His murmurs are lost to even your sensitive ears as he resumes his task, long fingers digging into your thighs so deliciously, nails dragging on your soft skin as you pull him closer, deeper, knowing he'd only beg if you refused him. Not that you ever would, at least not in jest, as you had many times before, just to see his hungry gaze grow dark and desperate. The games you used to play.

You slide a finger inside yourself, then another, always feeling him and only him, hearing him tease you as you whine for his cock.

"Good girls beg for it, my love. Are you my good girl?" You keen at his words and nod your head frantically, his fingers tracing your slit, dipping in and out at his pleasure, as he holds your gaze and fuels the fire pooling deep in your abdomen.

"Please... only yours, only for you..." Your words tumble from your lips, as a wolfish grin spreads across his handsome face.

His hands knead your flesh as he grasps your thighs to pull them apart, reverently taking in your dishevelled state, your blown pupils and swollen lips a masterpiece even Eru himself could not have imagined. His perfect creation, soft and pliant and oh so needy for him; any semblance of self control is lost as he takes his cock in hand and drives deep inside you with one thrust.

He steals every breath from your body with ravenous kisses that leave you clawing at his back, filthy wet sounds filling the air as he ruts into you, claiming every moan and whimper as a victory to his cause. You cry out his name, his real name, chanting it like a prayer, as he purrs in your ear. He pulls you apart with every touch, fingers raking through your hair, cursing in Black Speech as his orgasm approaches.

"I want to hear you, love, I need to hear you as I make you mine," he growls in your ear, low and deep, reverberating through you as he buries himself within you as if he means to never resurface.

You're only too happy to oblige, your moans unleashed from your throat as you no longer attempt to stay quiet, uncaring if anyone should hear you now. His name falls from your lips over and over as you plead for your release.

"I will make you my Queen, my love, and all Middle Earth will worship at your feet as I do," he praises you, his promises falling on deaf ears as you edge closer to what you crave.

He bites at the soft skin of your throat, licking the sheen of sweat that has collected thanks to his efforts, like a man starved of water at a desert oasis. The stretch of his cock inside you is almost too much but you take it so well for him, and he is a loving lord after all, one must be rewarded.

With one hand behind your head supporting his weight, his other hand travels from your swollen nipple downwards to your clit, circling the nub before pressing and stroking just as he has so many times before. He picks up the pace and slams his hips into yours, almost brutal in his all-consuming lust for his Queen.

You see stars and the world falls away, your walls clenching around him as he collapses onto you, the two of you entwined in body and enjoined in soul as you dissolve into pleasure, the spring that had so deliciously coiled deep in your belly finally releases, and he kisses you so sweetly you forget your own name.

As the first rays of sunlight peek through your window, you gasp, the spell broken. The bedsheets are rumpled and your fingers are wet, but the warm body that had encompassed your own only moments ago had vanished into the ether. The scent of the forge lingered long after in your nostrils, filling your heart once more with longing that could not be satisfied with one night's pleasure.

The yearning of the void was always present, and its black embrace was oh so tempting.

[dailyloopdeloop]

DAY 97: CONGRATULATIONS, YOU WON!

[mrzombielover]

real price hours tn

NSFW warning! f!reader, porn no plot

“yeah, just like that… goood girl…” price groans as you take him fully, taking a large puff from the lit cigar he dangles. you whimper at his words, making him chuckle as he exhales smoke in your face.

“oh, you like that, huh?” he laughs, free hand running down your waist and coming to grab a fistful of your ass. “dirty girl…” you squeak as he slaps your ass.

you mewl when you start to move, letting out a shaky breath as you bounce agonizingly slow on his cock, still adjusting to the stretch. you throw your head back, a soft moan slipping past your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck, letting a hand run through his hair and grip at the roots. he chuckles again, rolling his hips into you, drinking in every whine and gasp and moan that you give him. he takes another puff of his cigar, hand trailing from your ass around to your hip to rub soft circles into your clit. you keen at that, head falling forward onto his shoulder.

"captain!" you whine.

"shh, shh, baby," price shushes you gently, softly connecting his lips to yours as he breaths smoke out his nose. he swallows your moans as you let them into his mouth, and you feel dizzy against him as you roll your hips, greedily chasing the electrifying pleasure. you quiver around him, reduced to a whimpering mess as you're stretched out around his fat cock. he's all you can focus on, everything else dissolving but his length inside you and the smell of his musk and cigar.

"so perfect for me," he mumbles against your flesh, placing kisses before softly biting your neck.

"captain..." you moan again, bouncing sloppier now, more desperately.

"please!" it's almost a sob. you don't exactly know what you're begging for, but the plead leaves your lips anyway like a last prayer. Price laughs dryly, letting his eyes slip shut and head fall back against the headboard.

"you're so pretty when you whine. poor baby, you cant do it alone?" he teases, rolling his hips against yours. you moan louder now, falling forward slightly as he starts to fuck up into you. your back is arching against him, barley processing his words.

"come on, sweet girl," he says softly in your ear, his thumb on your clit making you throb and squeeze on him, hands searching for something, anything to grip on to. "thaaat's it.. just needed my help, huh?" he says soothingly as you dig your nails into his back.

"oh, god!" you squeak, letting a strangled cry into his ear.

"fuck! I'm gonna-" you cut yourself off with a loud moan, all strength leaving your body as Price thrusts up, repeatedly abusing your g-spot. His fingers dig into your hip, other hand clenching his cigar so hard it nearly crumbles in his grip, but not a single part of your brain cares about that now. The orgasm hits you in shaky waves, reducing you to a throbbing, soaking, shaking mess as it washes over you.

"yeah, good girl," He says softly, pressing a kiss to your temple as his pace slows. He takes one last puff before haphazardly dropping his cigar into the ashtray on his bedside table, not even giving you a chance to catch your breath before he's fully lifting you up and flipping you onto your back.

"can you give me one more, baby?"

[veggiesforpresident]

thinking about the differences between tos spock and aos spock

the other day i read a post about how tos!amanda grayson is like not the worlds best mom, like shes clearly kinda fed up with vulcan culture, and we know sarek disapproves of human culture despite being. you know. married to one.

but then in aos amanda seems... much kinder? like she tells spock she'll always be proud of him even if he undergoes kohlinar. and i think tos!amanda wouldnt like that at all! and aos!sarek even admits to loving her!

which makes me think about the differences between tos and aos SPOCK bc like tos spock seems soooo ashamed of his two halves and aos spock is like waaaaay more chill about it to the point of dating a human woman and saying essentially "earth is the only home i have left". which yeah is a big flaw in the writing but from a character pov it just makes me wonder like how his parents personality changes affected their son so much

and like tos spock goes to starfleet academy bc he wants to be a scientist, whereas aos spock partly goes bc he didnt like the vulcan science academy insulting his mother. which feels like a p significant shift to me!

[pigeonstab]

Self indulgent skeletail Cross

[fluentisonus]

rambling here (& a little drunk) but it's so interesting coming to les mis from a preexisting maritime/age of sail interest background because like the whole historical situation (well. wrt toulon at least) it's discussing is like. it's very much a side of things you don't think about so much I guess when you're focused on life on board the ships themselves & particularly ships at sea. which -- like tbc my knowledge of this stuff is mostly to do with the royal navy during the same period, which can be very different re: how it functioned, so I don't necessarily know much about the french navy or how obvious this stuff would be if I was reading books about the french navy -- but just the whole existence of the bagne & the prisoners being the ones to help with the ships while they're in port (amongst other things) really makes one think about like idk. how casually you might get someone on the ship referring to 'putting in for repairs' or something in a way you wouldn't think twice about what that might imply. meanwhile then you read this & read the historical background & there's a whole different angle that's absolutely full of horrors. idk idk like I keep thinking about how in post captain (aubrey-maturin series, so written well after les mis & probably deliberately conscious of it while doing this) when they go into the harbor in toulon to meet with christy-palliere during the peace of amiens & there's like half a sentence mention of the convicts on the far side of the harbor unloading stuff from the ships before they go on with their lives (& this is 1802, jvj would literally be over there right then), and it's just background description. and how like every battle you read about, in fiction or non fiction, every time they talk about french ships taking damage or needing supplies etc etc it that it's often toulon (or similar) they'd be limping back to. it's just such a crazy shift in perspective & new consideration of some of the actual sources of this historical labor & how damaging it was beyond what's on the actual ships

[astralsi]

lil wip!

[kruegerspillow]

krueger who always always always asks to cum in you at least once before he leaves your place for whatever reason he’s there. tells you he wants to be leaking out of you for a bit, lets you overstimulate him during the act as a thank you even while he’s scratching your thighs up asking if you haven’t had enough yet :>

FUCK YEAAH A KRUEGER ASK !!! and omd anon he'd totally do that. he just neeeds to see you dripping with his cum for absolutely no reason.

minors dni! nsfw under the cut :3

Krueger's no selfish man.

But, when it comes to you? He just can't help it. He needs to devour you whole, to make you as his and only his. Fuck, he wouldn't even let another man look your way. And, this time, it's no different.

The bed softly creaked beneath you as Krueger pushed you against the mattress, desperately crawling over your body. He lifted his mask up before his lips crashed onto yours, pulling you into a feverish kiss as that tongue of his slipped into your mouth. He groaned, a string of curses leaving his lips in between the kisses. He'd missed you dearly and you can clearly see that.

"You're all mine." He groaned, his voice sounding breathless.

You let out a choked moan in response, feeling his lips parting from yours. His hands travelled onto your panties before he pulled them down, nearly ripping it in the process.

"Krueger— fuck. Don't you dare rip them." You warned him, resulting in a quick, muttered apology.

He licked his lips, looking down at your leaking cunt before diving in like a dehydrated man. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping them opened wide just for him. A small moan left your lips as his tongue worked on your tight hole, feeling the way his nose was pressed up right against your clitoris. His hips grinded against the mattress, his aching cock seeking more friction.

"Mein." He grunted, "you taste so good— so... so sweet, mein liebling. Fuck, I missed you. I missed your fuckin'— taste."

His tongue pressed against your clit before his gaze shifted towards you, seeing the tears in your eyes. He almost felt... proud of himself. Your hips bucked up into his mouth, a small signal of your climax. The grip on your thigh tightened, and you were sure he was going to leave a nasty mark.

"Kru— Krueger, I'm gonna— fuckfuckfuck please don't stop." You pleaded, throwing your head back before your hands shot up to his hair.

A small whine left Krueger's mouth as you reached your climax, his tongue still lapping on your weeping hole. You gasped, thighs shaking from the aftershock. Your breaths hitched before Krueger shifted, propping right on top of you. Your vision blurred before you came down your high.

"Need... need to feel you inside of me, please." You whined, reaching up to his jeans.

"I haven't prepped—"

"I don't care, I— shit, I can handle it."

Krueger hesitated, pondering for a moment before he felt your hand reaching up to his jeans. You pulled the zipper down, your hands slipping into his boxers before you slowly stroked his needy cock. A strained noise left Krueger as he bucked his hips into your fist.

"I need to prep yo—" Another whimper.

Your free hand pulled both his jeans and boxers down, revealing his angry, leaking tip. Krueger groaned softly, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His hips matched the rhythm of your strokes, and, just before his climax, his hand shot up to your wrist before pulling them away. Krueger pulled away from the crook of your neck.

Your eyes widened, taken aback by his sudden move. You were completely oblivious of the fact that he was about to cum already, from just a few strokes, though, you let him catch his breath.

His hand let go of your wrist before it rested on either side of your head. His chest rose up and down, catching his breath before he rammed right into you.

"Fuck!" You moaned out, followed by a gasp.

Krueger's head immediately perked up at your exclamation, pulling himself out of you before looking at you with a hint of worry.

"Liebling, fuck, are— are you alright?" He murmured in between ragged breaths.

Without giving him a reply, your hands went up to his chest before gently pushing him right against the headboard. His eyes widened before you slammed him back inside. A moan left his lips, feeling his composure break down as you rode him.

"Scheiße," he cursed underneath his breath.

His hands instinctively went to grip your ass, feeling the way you clenched around him in result. He whined, tilting his head back before his hips bucked up in an erratic rhythm.

"Bitte," he whimpered, pausing for a moment to catch a sharp breath. He grunted as you chases his climax. "Bitte, please, cum with— with me. Let me— cum inside. I need to cum inside, bitte."

And you let him.

His hips bucked one last time before he cummed inside of you, spilling his seed into your needy cunt as you orgasmed together with him. You continued clenching around him, riding him through his climax as he whimpered out of overstimulation.

"Fuck, y'haven't had enough yet?" He groaned, moving his hand to your thighs to dig his nails into them.

Your movements slowly came to a half before you pulled him out of you, dropping right beside him as your chest rose up and down. His hands let go of your thighs, dropping back onto the bed.

"Danke, fuck, thank you..." He murmured softly, his gaze shifting to your exhausted state. He huffed softly before his hand made its way to your hole, making sure that not even a single drop of his cum leaves your hole.

"You did so well f'me..." He praised.

You shuddered at the sudden contact once again, grunting softly before his fingers softly thrusted into your hole, feeling his cum going right back in.

Maybe a round two won't hurt...

kruegerspillow © 2024 ➵ do not feed my work into ai, repost or translate my work. Reblogs are much appreciated ୨ৎ

[valeriianz]

8 for the smutty thingy? 👀

(vroom vroom wheel wheeel gasoline vroom vroom speed speed 🏍️🏍️🏍️wuuuuuuu)

*arrives 9 months late, crawling out of the floorboards covered in blood* hi 🌼i hope you like this lol

from a prompt list: A and B are on a motorcycle trip. The constant movement, vibration and touching is getting them excited.

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

Dream curses under his breath, nearly tripping over his long legs as he slows from a run to a miserable walk, exhaling a loud groan of misery as he watches the bus take off from the stop he had meant to be at just two minutes ago.

Checking his watch, Dream wonders about ordering an Uber, or telling his date he’d be 20 minutes late. He wonders if that’s kosher; arriving late to a second date. Being late to a first date was more unforgivable– first impressions and all that, and Dream had been punctual then. 

Before he can truly overthink it, Dream decides maybe 20 minutes wouldn’t be the end of the world; he can wait for the next bus.

He’s walking back to his apartment, a block away, drafting the apology text in his mind, when he spots his downstairs neighbor coming out of his building. 

Dream unconsciously combs a hand through his hair just as the man looks up, spots Dream, and smiles.

“Hey, neighbor.”

“Hello,” Dream greets back. He’s still a little out of breath and he can almost feel the flush high on his cheekbones from the sprint he’d just attempted.

His neighbor– Hob, his name is Hob– gives Dream a brief once-over as he closes the distance between them.

“Miss your bus?” He rolls a large motorcycle helmet around and around in his hands.

Dream watches him, finally coming to a stop before Hob, just outside their apartment building.

“Yeah. How did you know?”

Hob shrugs, looking down at his helmet. “I saw you leaving.”

Dream blinks. You were watching me?

He hadn’t seen Hob as he raced down the stairs, his light jacket fluttering behind him as he tore around the corner and feebly tried to chase down the moving bus. So it makes Dream curious… if Hob watched him as much as Dream did.

Hob’s main mode of transportation was his motorcycle. The sound of it roaring to life, Hob revving the throttle, became a sort of pavlovian response in Dream. He’d rush to the window as soon as he’d hear it start, nearly pressing his nose to the glass (or opening the window altogether) just to catch a glimpse of Hob tearing out into the street. Sometimes Dream would be lucky, and catch Hob just as he exited the building, watching how the man would swing one strong leg over the large bike, settling himself in, getting comfortable.

It was Dream’s biggest guilty pleasure, watching Hob on his bike. There was something inherently erotic about the whole thing; Hob mounting his bike in his torn jeans and leather jacket. Dream could almost feel his grip on the handlebars, his fingers through Hob’s hair as he slicked it back to slip his helmet on. It felt so silly, getting excited over something as mundane as sitting on a bike. And it probably would have been… if Hob wasn’t anything but mundane.

Hob had carved out a home in Dream’s subconscious from the moment they met.

It had been when Dream was moving in. It was a hot summer day and unfortunately the building didn’t have an elevator, which meant multiple trips up and down the stairs, lugging boxes and directing his sister, Dee, how to turn the couch around a corner. Dream felt his legs starting to protest in earnest not 15 minutes into going up and down three flights of stairs. Coupled with the August heat, he had felt himself getting delusional as well. It was the only excuse why, on his ninth, tenth, or twentieth trip back up the stairs, with a heavy box of books in his hands, Dream kicked open the door to his apartment– wondering why Dee had shut it– and halted in the doorway.

The first thing Dream had seen was a large flatscreen TV, potted plants everywhere, a huge black leather couch, and a shirtless man on the floor.

Judging by the rock music that was playing, and the man’s position on the floor– on a mat– he had been working out.

And Dream had stared, the fact that this wasn’t his apartment hadn’t yet entered his muddled brain. So what he blurted out was,

“Do you come with the apartment?”

The man on the floor– sweaty, tan skin, hair everywhere, oh my god– rearranged himself to sit on his butt with his hands flat on the floor, an easy smile on his handsome face.

Then Dream’s words came back to him, making him flush from his hairline all the way to his shaking fingers still clutching the box against his chest.

“Wrong apartment,” the gorgeous, half-naked man said, his eyes were chocolate brown and so warm. “2F. You’re right above me.” He helpfully pointed a finger up to his ceiling.

“Right…” Dream eloquently said. His arms were beginning to shake from the strain. “Sorry. Uh…”

Suddenly the stranger, his new neighbor, was standing and making his way to Dream. A broad chest and corded biceps commanding all his attention and wiping Dream’s brain clean.

“Would you like a hand with that?” He gestured to the box and, before Dream could say no, thank you. I am perfectly capable of carrying my own items into my home, the man gently moved his hands under the box.

Dream allowed him to take it, his shoulders sagging in relief. The man nudged his head.

“Lead the way?”

As easy as that. The man introduced himself as Robert “But you can call me Hob, all my friends do,” said with a wink and a grin. Dee had given Dream sideways looks the rest of the afternoon, pleased with the additional help and all too aware of the besotted glimmer in her brother’s eyes.

It’s only been a few months since then, the humid summer heat transitioning blessedly into crisp, cool autumn and giving Dream plenty of time to get over his silly little crush on his downstairs neighbor.

Except that… he’s pretty sure Hob likes him, too.

“You were watching me?” Dream says aloud, deciding, fuck it. He was feeling bold today.

Hob laughs guiltily, ducking his head.

“Maybe,” his smile morphs into a grin. “Where are you headed? I can give you a ride.”

Dream’s heart trips in his chest, hope curling around his stomach and kicking up a swarm of butterflies.

This is not the first time Hob’s offered Dream a ride on his bike. Dream always declines, nerves getting the better of him but also, he truly had a fear of motorbikes. And he would always let Hob know, too, how “that thing is a death trap,” before turning the corner to wait at his usual bus stop.

Dream had never been on a motorcycle in his life and truly had no interest in starting now. Except… he does have an interest.

In Hob, specifically.

So, taking a breath to steel himself, Dream at last nods, his own lips cracking into a wide smile at the baffled look that passes across Hob’s face.

“What?”

Hob laughs softly, shy. Dream could lose himself in that laugh, it never sounded condescending or cruel… just always full of joy and ease. 

“Just happy that you finally said yes.”

Something swoops in Dream’s stomach. Elated but also a flicker of anxiety creeping up his spine over what he’d just signed up for. Not only facing one of his biggest fears, but also realizing that he’ll be wrapped around Hob, on his bike, finally able to feel how warm he would be against his chest and between his legs…

“Wait right here,” Hob’s smile is dazzling now. “Let me grab another helmet.”

Dream waits. He takes out his phone, staring at the contact for the man he’s meeting up with, and considers canceling. It would be rude, especially with such short notice. But Dream can’t deny how utterly atrocious company he’ll be, thinking about Hob the entire time.

Before Dream can make a decision, the heavy front door to the building slams shut and Dream looks up to see Hob jogging down the stairs, making his way back to Dream and tossing him a helmet.

Dream barely manages to catch it, the reality of the situation settling into his bones and suddenly freezing him to the spot.

“You look nice by the way,” Hob shoots the compliment easily, smiling as he walks past Dream to where his bike is parked at the curb just a few steps down the sidewalk. “Where are you headed?”

Dream’s legs move on autopilot, following Hob and swallowing his unease.

“Uh, Verona’s. On Main street.”

There’s a brief hesitation in the way Hob turns towards Dream once they reach his bike, his eyes flickering with something Dream isn’t able to parse.

“Oh. The Italian restaurant?”

Dream nods and he doesn’t miss how a thoughtful expression crosses Hob’s handsome face, his brows creasing slightly before he turns again, touching the handlebars before he resigns himself to something and swings a leg over the bike’s seat.

He scoots up slightly. 

“C’mon.” Hob slips the helmet over his head, obscuring his visage and turning halfway to pat the seat behind him. It’s a large bike, and there’s plenty of room for Dream to swallow his nerves and shove his own helmet on and slip onto the seat.

The helmet is tight, but not uncomfortably so. Dream can hear himself breathe, which brings attention to how terrified he is, his heart rate drumming wildly.

“Closer,” Hob pats Dream’s knee and then his side. “Don’t get self conscious on me now.” His tone is light, cheery. Probably to ease the worry of Dream being a passenger on a motorized death sentence. 

Dream holds his breath as he slips down the seat, nestling his crotch against Hob’s ass and pressing his chest into his back. Fuck, fuck, fuck–

“Arms around me,” Hob instructs, seemingly unaffected by Dream’s shaking hands ensnaring around his middle.

Dream does as instructed, wondering if Hob can hear how his nerves are screaming in a frightening mix of arousal and trepidation.

He doesn’t watch how Hob starts the bike, suddenly it’s just on. Igniting with a roar and an idle sputtering that makes the entire vehicle vibrate and makes alarm bells shriek in Dream’s ears. He tightens his grip around Hob, arms and legs.

Dream thinks he feels Hob chuckle. 

“Hold on tight.”

Dream does not need to be told twice.

Hob’s leg kicks back, his wrist flicks gently and he’s pulling out of his parking spot, his head on a swivel as he checks behind him and front, before the engine truly snarls to life and lunges into the street.

Dream squeezes Hob’s middle as their speed increases, his head pointed down against Hob’s shoulder as he fights down the urge to scream. Hob is so warm and firm in his embrace, and Dream can feel the wind whipping past him, the motorbike vibrating under him, and the muffled sounds of the motor in his thick helmet.

It’s exhilarating, and terrifying. Dream gasps loudly as they make a turn, his grip on Hob becoming impossibly tighter as they zip through traffic.

“You alright back there?” Hob yells, his helmet turning slightly.

“K-keep your eyes on the road!” Dream shrieks. 

Hob laughs, his head facing forward again. The sound of Hob’s laughter, even muted by their helmets and the wind, compels Dream to relax. He takes a chance to lift his head, watching the scenery speed by, and bit by bit Dream unwinds, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth. He focuses again on Hob, how comfortably Dream fits against his backside, how calm and loose he is operating the bike, as if having a human-sized constrictor crushing his sternum and thighs is nothing.

Dream takes a deep breath, his pulse jumping as they hit a bump and his crotch unintentionally pushes against Hob’s ass (which, now that Dream is calming down, he’s able to notice how softly and teasingly it cushions his narrow hips). He turns his head, resting the side of his helmet against Hob’s shoulder as he unclenches his fingers from Hob’s jacket and instead carefully slips his hands inside of it. His hands still shake slightly, but the warmth from Hob’s body– prominent even through his shirt and the cool wind– eradicate that tingling feeling in his knuckles from gripping for too long.

Dream exhales, his eyes fluttering shut as he gives his trust completely to Hob. There is still that flicker of fear, but as the minutes drag on, Dream becomes used to the bike. 

And, unfortunately– Dream feels himself flush– he is aroused. 

It is easier to focus on how embarrassingly flustered he swiftly becomes, his breathing coming out shaky and labored, his cock taking interest now in Hob’s plump ass, even between two layers of jeans. The bumps in the road and the vibrating seat certainly don’t help.

Before he knows it, Hob is slowing, and when Dream opens his eyes, they are at the restaurant.

Dream blinks. He had forgotten that he was going on a date. And not with Hob.

“Here you are,” Hob announces, bending a leg out to prop up the bike.

“Ah, thank you…” Dream coughs slightly and swallows. He does not untangle himself from Hob. He feels his neck heat up as, all at once, he realizes he’s hard.

He wonders if Hob can feel it, he certainly brings no attention to it. Doesn’t shove him off or give any further indication of their current location.

“You, ah… are you meeting someone?”

The bike is idling, their helmets still on, so Hob has to raise his voice, and it makes Dream flinch. But he doesn’t take off his helmet. Or move. He merely nods. Hob somehow catches it in his peripheral.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He shakes his head and Dream’s stomach clenches.

“What’s wrong?”

Hob laughs, but it’s not the usual carefree laugh that Dream so often thinks about, fantasizes about hearing late at night, alone in his bed, taking himself apart to visions of Hob smiling and laughing and moaning in delight as he touches Dream all over–

“I had no idea you were– you know– taken.” His voice is quiet, guarded. “Wouldn’t have been so obvious.” His fingers clench around the handlebars. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable? Ah… something lights up within Dream, a surge of confidence rushing through his veins. 

“I am not uncomfortable,” Dream says simply. He takes a steadying breath and tightens his hold around Hob, his fingers digging into his ribs and– throwing caution to the wind– cants his hips up just enough to bring attention to his erection pressed against Hob’s ass.

Dream can hear the sharp catch in Hob’s breath even through the helmet.

“And you weren’t being ‘obvious.’ If you were, I would have taken the opportunity to make my interests known much sooner.”

A hand covers one of Dream’s, making his breath hitch. Hob’s head turns to look over his shoulder.

“Then who is waiting for you?” He inclines his head towards the restaurant.

“No one.” It might be cruel, but Dream realizes there is no one else he’d rather be with at the very moment. He doesn’t want to wait a moment longer now that he knows the longing in his chest is reciprocated. Dream wants to keep the man in his arms and never let him go.

Dream squeezes his thighs around Hob and hooks his chin over Hob’s shoulder, their helmets tapping together. 

“Take me home, Hob.”

Dream can feel how Hob’s breathing has picked up, his back flexing against Dream’s chest as he wastes no time in retracting his foot from the ground and speeding back towards home.

[sorryiliketoscreenshot]