#was SO satisfying. it was so cool to figure out

[slapmeshigaraki]

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ "i just feel... dirty." ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

♡ warnings: zayne x fem!reader, fingering, pussy eating, dirty talk, a little condescension if you squint, spit, begging

♡ a/n: i posted this on ao3 a little while ago, but i figured i should move it over here too. i'm thinking about saving ao3 for longer stuff and putting shorter things here... anyway hope you like it xx

ao3

Zayne was methodical with everything that he did—the way he made sandwiches, cutting the crusts off so the edges of the bread were perfectly crisp, organizing his ties by pattern and then color and then by formal or casual. There was a reason for everything that he did, nothing by mistake, and the way that he touched you was no exception.

“Relax your legs for me, darling,” he said, voice warm, caressing every inch of your skin as he placed a soft lingering kiss to your inner thigh. It was right where your hips met his favorite place to play with, right where he knew would make you squirm beneath his touch. You tried your best to unstiffen your muscles, but you couldn’t. Your anxiety was through the roof at the sight of the man between your legs, your eyes desperately trying to avoid his gaze.

“What is it baby, huh? What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” His palms gently rubbing along your soft skin, burning you with his touch as you melted beneath his hands.

“I- I just feel…dirty.” He couldn’t help but let out an incredulous laugh at your use of the words.

“Look at me.” You did. Your gazes firmly locked on one another. His expression softened at the look on your face—the genuine shame. Zayne had been begging you to let him eat you out for months, pleading for you to let him taste you for the first time. Any time he was finally close to having you right where he wanted you, writhing against his tongue, whining his name and shaking beneath his grasp, you’d push his head away saying you just weren’t in the mood. The truth is that you just felt nasty at the thought of pushing your cunt into a face as angelic as Zayne’s--his soft eyes looking up at you, mouth buried in your cunt, his lips wet with you... just the thought made you squirm.

“Nothing about you is dirty, my love. I want this. I want to make you feel good, to feel you cum all over my tongue. I need it. You believe me, don’t you?” A whine erupted from your throat at the words, your head landing against the pillow, unable to look at him any longer as you tried to ignore the heat between your legs.

“Zayne please I-“

“Just let me try and if you don’t like it you can say the word and I’ll stop, yeah? Just let me try to make this little pretty pussy feel good, okay?” He released his grip on one of your thighs, grabbing your hand in his, entwining your fingers with his. His grip was reassuring, soft—holding Zayne’s head always steadied your heart, even now your worries would soothed, even if it was just for a little while.

“O-okay…���

“Look at me while I taste you. Watch me savor you.” He had a different look in his eyes this time, a hunger that could only be satisfied by giving him what he asked. Your toes curled as you saw his tongue stick out of his mouth, spit dripping off of his pink flesh onto your cunt, cooling you with ease. The sight was just what you thought that it would be—filthy, but it made you squirm uncontrollably.

“Zayne… please—”

“Shh… let me focus, hm? I want to hear the sounds your pussy makes. Let her talk to me, darling.” You groaned at the disgusting words, biting your lip to hold back any objections as he leaned in closer to your heat, his tongue flattening against your clit making your spine arch off of the mattress. The way he licked you, tasting every fold and crevice, eyes desperately watching the way your chest rose and fell and your nipples hardened as you tightened your grip on his hand—it was sinful.

“This pussy is so wet. I think she likes me, baby. Does she want a finger inside this tight little hole?” he said, studying the way you clenched and released around nothing, pushing out more juices as his finger lightly grazed your entrance.

“Aw, she let me in so nicely. What a greedy little thing,” he said, unable to hold back his moans at the sight as his index disappeared into you with ease.

“She’s clenching around me so tight, like she wants to thank me. I should reward her, shouldn’t I?” The length of his slender finger pushed between your slick walls with no hesitation, his digit curling inside of you, pushing against the tightness of your insides before his tongue was back on your clit. His plush lips sucked around it, rhythmically in time with your fingers, milking more of your wetness out of you for him to lick up. It wasn’t long before he heard it—the sound that kept him awake at night, distracting him during his break at work from the way hit made his cock ache in his pants. Your moans filled his ears against your will as he curled his finger, tapping against the spot inside of you that made your legs quiver and clench against his head.

“Is that it? Did I find your spot, baby?” He knew he did. It was effortless to him and no matter how hard you’d tried not to enjoy the way his tongue felt lapping at your clit or his finger abused your g-spot, you couldn’t

“Are you going to cum for me so soon, darling? I thought you said it was dirty, but here you are about to cum in my mouth. My baby is so sweet, such a delicious pussy,” He said, mocking the whining tone of your moans, feigning concern as he quickened the pace of his finger.

“Oh my god!” You said, no, screamed as your free hand found it’s way into his dark hair, needing something to grip onto other than his hand while the wetness of his tongue began to bring tears to your eyes.

“Tell me you want to cum in my mouth, sweet girl. Go on, I’ve been working so hard, shouldn’t you put those pretty lips to good use for me?” You wanted to, but you couldn’t. The words got caught in your throat as the nasty image flooded your mind.

“Noooo please don’t make me.” You whined now, bucking against his face as you went from pulling his tongue closer to trying to push him away.

“Don’t run from me,” he said, a serious tone in his voice as he barked the order. He freed his hand from yours, pushing his finger into you relentlessly now, hooking his other arm around your thigh, forcing them apart as he held them open.

“Baby, your mouth is so dishonest, but your pussy can’t lie. Oh no, she’s so messy, I think she’s going to cum.” Tears stained your face as the pleasure washed over you, causing you to shut your eyes to avoid cumming just at the sight of the man devouring you from between your legs, but it was no use. With one more press of your fingers against that sweet spot inside of you, you were cumming all over his face. He hurriedly lapped it up, before you could protest, licking and sucking every inch of your flesh as he held your legs from forcing him away until you finally stopped shaking against him. Your legs relaxed for this first time, weak from the waves of pleasure.

“Wow, that was so pretty. Taste so good for me,” he said, feathering light kissing on your clit as you continued writhing beneath him, but his grip on your thighs was still strong.

“Zayne let me go…” You weren’t even sure you meant it, your voice coming out barely above a whisper.

“We’ve already established you can’t say what you mean,” he said, sticking his tongue out again, sloppily licking along your wet slit.

“I guess I’ll have to keep making you cum until you’re as honest as your body is, hm?”

[kunareads]

living dead

satoru x reader

satoru thinks this is hilarious, you think he’s sleeping on the couch tonight.

masterlist

wc: 1.1k

this actually happened to me (i hate horror movies and would rather eat a jean jacket than sit through one)

content: fluff :) no smut! satoru being a little shit

you hate horror movies.

like, really hate them.

just the thought of anything gory, creepy, or suspenseful is enough to send you running in the other direction.

so when satoru casually suggests a movie night, sprawled on your couch with one hand scrolling through his phone and the other tossing candy into his mouth, you're more than happy to agree. you assume it's the usual: some rom-com or mindless action flick, where he spends half the time whispering absurd commentary in your ear or pretending to cry during the sad parts.

you don't ask what the movie is because you trust him. you should have known better.

the two of you arrive at the theater, satoru grinning like he's the one starring in the movie. he hands over the tickets with that infectious smile, nudges you toward the concession stand for your usual order, and is practically bouncing on his heels as he drags you to your seats.

"you're gonna love this one," he says, settling into the seat next to you with a big, self-satisfied grin.

"you always say that," you tease, popping a piece of popcorn into your mouth as he tears into his box of candy. "what's it about?"

"you know," he says vaguely, waving a hand. "some cool stuff. action, suspense, maybe a little drama."

the lights dim, and the trailers roll. you're not worried until about twenty minutes in.

dark woods. eerie silence. and then a scream so blood-curdling it nearly sends your popcorn flying. your heart sinks as you realize exactly what you're in for.

"satoru," you whisper, your voice panicked. "what is this?"

he glances at you, confused, then turns to the screen. it only takes a second for the realization to hit. "oh." he blinks. "uh… maybe a horror movie?"

"maybe?!" you grab his arm like it's the only thing tethering you to reality.

"you know i hate horror!"

his eyes widen, genuine guilt washing over his face. "babe, i swear, i didn't know! the poster looked cool! i thought it was, like, a thriller—"

"thriller is horror!"

he winces, ducking his head sheepishly. "okay, that's on me. but, uh… do you want to leave?"

you glance around the packed theater, already imagining the judgmental stares you'd get if you tried to shuffle out now. you swallow hard, your fingers still digging into his arm. "no, it's fine. i'll... i'll get through it."

"are you sure?" he asks, leaning closer, his voice soft. "we really don't have to stay."

you shake your head, gripping the armrest on your other side like it's a lifeline. "i'll survive. i don't want to waste the tickets."

he looks like he wants to argue but ultimately nods. "okay, but if it gets too much, just say the word, and we're out of here."

you regret your decision almost immediately. every scene feels like a new assault on your nerves—creaking doors, flickering lights, shadowy figures lurking just out of focus. you flinch at every scare, your heart racing as you clutch satoru.

and satoru? oh, he's having the time of his life. he winces during the gory parts, sure, but he's invested, his eyes glued to the screen. every now and then, he glances at you, his lips twitching with barely contained amusement as you peek through your fingers.

"you okay?" he whispers during a quieter moment, his voice laced with faux concern. you barely resist the urge to pinch him.

"no," you hiss back, shooting him a glare. "but don't let me ruin your fun or anything."

he grins, shameless. "you're doing great. just think of it like—"

"satoru, please shut up."

as the movie drags on, you find yourself swinging between terror and frustration. there are moments when you think you might actually cry, especially during the tense silences when you know something awful is about to happen. he barely flinches as you dig your nails into his arm, letting you cling to him like he's your lifeline.

"this part's not so bad," he whispers after another jump scare, his voice soft enough that no one around you notices. "see? no one's even on the screen right now."

you glare at him, your heart still racing. "that's when they always get you. something's about to pop out. i can feel it."

"nah, i don't think so," he says, leaning closer like he's sharing a secret. "you've got at least ten seconds before—"

a grotesque creature lunges at the camera, and you shriek, burying your face in his chest.

he winces, trying to stifle a laugh. "okay, you were right. my bad."

by the time the credits roll, you feel like you've aged ten years. your palms are sweaty, your heart is still pounding, and you're already planning to triple-check the locks when you get home.

"you were such a trooper," satoru says, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you shuffle out of the theater. "i'm so proud of you."

"don't," you mutter, shooting him a withering glare. "seriously, don't."

but he doesn't stop there. oh no. on the way back to your apartment, he reenacts scenes from the movie. he's sneaking up behind you, making creepy noises, and whispering, "don't turn around…" in the most ominous voice he can muster.

"you're so sleeping on the couch tonight," you grumble, fumbling for your keys with more force than necessary.

"what?!" he gasps, clutching his chest like you've wounded him. "babe, i was basically your emotional support animal!"

"you're the one who got us into this mess!"

"okay, fair." he's grinning again, apparently unbothered by your threats. "but if you get too scared in the middle of the night, you know where to find me."

you roll your eyes, but later, when every shadow in your room feels just a little too dark and every creak in the apartment makes your skin crawl, you find yourself padding out to the couch, blanket in hand.

satoru's already sprawled out, one arm tucked under his head as he scrolls through his phone. he looks up when he hears you and smirks. "couldn't stay away, huh?"

"shut up," you mutter, climbing on top of him and burying your face in his chest.

he wraps an arm around you without hesitation, his other hand still lazily holding his phone as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "don't worry," he murmurs, his voice soft. "i'll protect you. promise."

and despite the lingering fear, you can't help but relax, his warmth and steady heartbeat lulling you into safety. maybe horror movies aren't so bad when he's around.

[toxycodone]

ship. swansea x reader

content. post crash, drunk swansea, implied suicidal reader so tread with caution, reader is gn but there’s mentions of afab genitals

an. written in one setting and not proofread just uh kill me or whatever

You don’t remember much.

As days have passed, routine’s grip on you has had your mind numb. For such a desperate situation, you’d expect to feel anxious. Depressed. Enough time has passed that you could even have a odd sense of acceptance by now due to the fatal end for you that lingers on the horizon.

Yet. You feel nothing. Days blend into weeks. Weeks into months. You only do your usual work routine because the others depend on you to pull your weight still. That, and well, there’s not exactly a simple, effective way to off yourself on this ship. Damn Pony Express for hiding anything deadly behind a code. And damn Anya for hiding that gun. You’d kill for it right about now.

Everything seems bleak. Daisuke’s the only crew member that still manages maintain a shred of positivity nowadays, but even that’s becoming a rarity. Only a matter of time before he succumbs too, you bet.

Despite it all, the most negative one of your bunch before the tragedy is the most upbeat. Swansea drinks himself stupid on that disgusting mouthwash every day. He’s jovial, partying and dancing all the time, save for the fact he needs to interact with Jimmy. Oh, and the odd bouts spent down in Utility.

What were you doing again?

Right. Checking on him. Jimmy’s gung ho about finding a way outta this mess all the sudden. A report from Swansea about the ship’s status is “necessary for him to make plans”. You doubt anything’s changed, or that Swansea could work on the ship in his state, but whatever.

And as usual, the conversation with Swansea is unproductive. Nothing, as you figured. The man’s giving you a bored expression as he answers your questions between swigs of mouthwash. It’s not until you take a break to stretch, revealing a little bit of your midriff, that Swansea’s thick brow quirks with interest.

“You seem tense.” He stands up from his workbench, which surprises you. You’re sure he’s gone through like, at least three bottles of mouthwash since the day started. The fact he’s still conscious is astounding, really. “Anybody ever teach ‘ya to lighten up a little? Relax?”

Swansea pats your shoulder, like how he would Daisuke, you think, until the hand lingers. His large fingers dig into your skin. He’s trying to massage the area, you think. But being so intoxicated has him unable to recognize his own strength.

You grimace. Thinking he’s about to offer you a swig of his half finished bottle of mouthwash, you start to wave him off. Then you notice his bulge. Holy shit. He has a hard on.

It’s not difficult for you to put two and two together. Your addiction to routine begs you to turn around, pretend this isn’t happening, but the desire to feel something, anything, overwhelms it.

Barely minutes pass before you’re spread over the cool metal surface of Swansea’s workbench. The man doesn’t take any time to prep you. There’s no kissing, sensual touches, foreplay of any kind. That hint of the Swansea you remember from before lingers true—the one that’s strictly business.

Anticipation makes you whimper, rubbing your legs together as the drunkard has trouble undoing his belt and shuffling off his pants. You catch a glimpse of his cock from over your shoulder and your eyes widen. Holy shit. He’s not particularly long, but Swansea’s thick as a soda can. You start to back out of this, but Swansea’s already pushing the thick head past your entrance.

It hurts. It fucking hurts. But it’s so fucking good you want to cry. It’s something other than the monotony that’s plagued your soul for lord knows how long. You squint your eyes shut, gritting your teeth as the older man’s length splits you open.

Once Swansea’s lodged himself deep in you, he lets out a satisfied groan. He’s still for a moment, relishing the way you pulse around him, before fucking into you without mercy. He takes advantage of your position, pulling you down onto his length instead of rutting his hips into you—likely to spare his energy. Each one rudely puffs the air out your lungs. You’re barely able to make strangled whimpers or moans yourself. His weighty balls smack against your clit every time you sink down, sparking little yelps of pleasure from your lips.

“Like that?” Swansea asks between grunts. He sounds cocky. You’d quip back if his dick didn’t make your hole burst at the seams.

You claw at the cool metal below as Swansea rams into you. The pain never really leaves even as you get wetter and wetter for him, only ebbs. But you don’t want it to be gone anyways. You feel alive for once, the mix of pain and pleasure making your brain go from numb to delirious. Your hips start to move on their own now, meeting Swansea in the middle as you fuck yourself on his length. The feeling of your pubes meshing when he bottoms out, that sticky mix of you, Swansea’s precum, and a little bit of his spit that he so half-assedly lubed you with earlier webbing between your crotches. You’ve never felt closer to heaven. If this is what Swansea feels like when he drinks, then you’re starting to get it.

Swansea grumbles, then grunts as he repositions himself. His hands hold your shoulders now, forcing his weight on you as he starts to drive his hips into you. He must be close, plowing into you with thrusts strong enough you’re sure you’d fly off his desk if he wasn’t holding you down. He’s fucking you like a sexy toy, using you for his own pleasure, and you’re loving it. Sweat starts to bead between your furrowed brows. Your gut flares with that familiar feeling of tightness, spreading tingles down your legs like TV static.

And it’s as if he senses it too. Swansea takes one hand off your shoulder to rub deep, slow circles on your clit, and your eyes roll back. Holy shit. You know his wife back home misses him bad. Fuck, maybe in a different life you’d feel guilty for this. But the way Swansea’s cock and calloused fingers have you seeing stars is more than enough to send any regrets out the window. Doesn’t help that the man isn’t intent on stopping to let you process your first orgasm in months, either. Your ears are filled with his wanton groans and wet sounds of skin on skin until he’s finally spent. Swansea cums with a deep groan, sheathing himself inside you as his balls drain.

You can’t be bothered to care. Not even when when he slumps his full weight onto you. The feeling of his warm cum and cock inside you makes you feel full, whole. Something you’re not sure you remember feeling, well, ever.

You could die like this, you think. In fact, you probably will soon. But not now. At least you have something to keep your preoccupied.

[turtlespancake]

i cant believe fontaine finally cleaned up its archon quest writing and learned to Actually Proper Balance its npc screentime with its playable character screentime. and yet. AND YET!!! THIS is the nation where i end up hyperfixating on the historical figures with no official designs.

[t3chborb]

With a bit of sculpting experience under my belt, I felt like making the first 3 orbs took way too long, so I tried making the other 3 all at once. Sculpting 3 at the same time, carving 3 at the same time, sanding 3 at the same time, etc etc. Turns out that is absolutely the better strategy :P

Sooo yeah, with Necromancer, Biohazard, and Diesel Baron orbs done at once, that means that as far as I'm concerned, my little Ramattra orb collection is done :P They're all definitely messy (the base skin one, the first one I've made somehow turned out the best of the bunch), but aren't they just charming together~

[not-cool-enough-to-scuba-dive]

actually I would quite like to hear your thoughts on gender philosophy in omegaverse worldbuilding? :3

hm. anon, I fear this is a far larger can of worms than you probably anticipated. I'm going to spare you the worst of it by only giving you a short version, but be careful what you wish for.

I'm also hiding it under a cut because even the short version is embarrassingly long.

I'm hardly a connoisseur of omegaverse content, nor would I consider myself anywhere near an expert. I don't want to speak for all fics as I've admittedly not read many. I did do my master's diss about legal gender recognition, so this is more about gender and philosophically sound worldbuilding than an indictment of any particular writing or story tbh.

the short answer is I find omegaverse worldbuilding really interesting, but I've never fully been able to enjoy it due to the way a/b/o identities tend to have a biological determinist slant to them imo, and tendency for a lack of real world implications of what the omegaverse does to gender and character interactions anywhere outside the bedroom. I'd love to figure out a version that's more inclusive and philosophically/ideologically consistent, both with itself and with my own views on real life gender (basically, I want to make it make more sense, have less biological determinism, and be more inclusive of the wider range of human experiences). this is a big task, and ngl I haven't achieved it and don't anticipate doing so any time soon. I have like, a concept in my head, taking apart all the key pieces and putting them together again but different, but to make it thorough enough would require more effort and time than I have because I'm like, employed 😔

I feel like someday if I ever get invited to a powerpoint night though, this could be It.

[hum--hallelujah]

computer ENHANCE

the red/orange is custom obviously but yeah I finally figured it out after a month of scratching my head like "that's not a jazz bass... doesn't look like a telecaster... he's clearly not playing a Squier anymore..." I have figured it out. thank you gettyimages

[aromanticasterisms]

my god i am ADORING the fontaine world quests so much they are so good

[kellystar321]

.

[heremob]

Some old wips that i never finished but i still like some things about them

[zuckergussprinzessin]

Teen wolf movie is apparently a complete shitshow comparable to their wildest plots so ? Not sure, it prompted a lot of new fix it fics 😂 also depends where you stood on some of the ships

I mean I didn't watch that show cause it was good so

[autism-corner]

I couldn’t stop staring at those long, slender fingers as they lifted the glass of red wine to her lips, as they carefully cut up the meat with her knife and gracefully brought the food to her mouth...

She looked at me and smiled. "You always tend to provoke controversy, just like a Venus flytrap. Do you long for a sword that much?"

[ghost-bugz]

i just realized i should probably draw johnnys nose crooked cause i feel like thatd make sense what w the scar thats there… ive been meaning 2 figure out how to draw a bump on his nose anyways bc hes just like me fr fr!!

[kursedmayo]

I've already known I'm bisexual for a while but I'm also bye-sexual (on the asexual spectrum) now so. Yeah.

[the-aviary-system]

Mood. We've had to stop playing games like this because we'd get unhealthily addicted to "number go up"

Like we'd get a withdrawal like effect, we'd get anxious about missing out on potential number going up if we didn't have whatever idle game we were obsessing over running in the background of our computer 24/7. Doing schoolwork? Keep it in the background and tab in like every 5 minutes to check in on it and buy upgrades. Planning D&D? Same thing.

Other games that use the "number go up" formula often got greedy with their players and kept trying to exploit their addiction to make them spend money, they made it more and more grindy until it was impossible for free-to-play people like us to keep up. (We didn't have a job, so no consistent money, so that's a reason why we were FTP. I dunno if we would've fallen into the trap of spending tons of money on games like these if we had a consistent income)

After getting disillusioned with our latest "number go up" simulator, I decided to try cookie clicker because I heard it wasn't pay to win. Yeah, I used an autoclicker too. And CC was pretty neat and all, it wasn't exploitative, which I appreciate- it was a grindy game in its purest state, grinding for the sake of grinding, gaining numbers for the hell of it, instead of trying to make money off of players- but since it wasn't actively trying to exploit us with FOMO it let us stop and think, and we realized we don't even enjoy these kinds of games that have taken up hours and hours of our lives.

So we made a rule for ourselves. No more of these games. From now on, we only play games if we're actually enjoying them, not just playing it out of obligation to make the number go higher. And it was really hard to stop playing since we got that same kind of withdrawal effect, the little itch in the back of the head that "I could be more productive right now, if I just had one of those games open in the background while I write I would be more productive" but we had to just fight that.

Anyway, that's not to say nobody should play these games. I'm not writing this to shame anyone for playing them, I'm not trying to sound preachy and hope that it doesn't come off that way- this comic just reminded me of our experience with these types of games and I felt like talking about it since we were addicted to these kinds of games for a good while. Some people will definitely be able to handle the addicting nature of these games better than we can. Some people genuinely enjoy the grind because it lets them just turn off their brain for a little while or not have to focus too much on something. Just be mindful to not let it become an addiction, is all.

So yeah that's the story of how we had an addiction to really grindy idle games

-Emyr (he/it)