#when you're completely overwhelmed and don't know what to do :)))))

[satorupi]

part 2 of innocentgf!reader asking experiencedbf!satoru how to give him a handjob

sum! - things escalate a little past learning how to give your boyfriend a handjob now that he has you in his lap..

c/w! - all smut, any storyline is in pt 1 (click here !! or ^^)

"gonna make you feel so good."

satoru's words send a proper shudder through you, giving him a shaky sigh against his lips as you dip to return his kiss. no need to even beg when he'd give you all you wanted in a heartbeat.

your hips cant forward in a deliberate grind and your moans sync, mingling in the space between your lips. your movements are a little unsteady, but so what? you'd moved past the silly embarrassment at being on his lap like this, only few layers keeping you two apart.

"you're…you're getting hard again," you breath out, pulling out of his space again just to chance a glance down, catching your lip between your teeth at the sight. satoru's chest heaves just a bit as he watches you, throat bobbing in a harsh swallow. long fingers flex on face as he nods at your observation, still trying to maintain his composure. why does it feel like he's the one falling apart when you're the one with no experience? "doesn't it hurt?"

"not yet, no." his voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, “you’re doing great, keep moving just like that. nice and easy.” he said he'd make you feel good and he's never been all talk no action. satoru's hands lower to grip your hips again, gently spurring on your movement back and forth on his lap. not enough to overwhelm but enough to have your abdomen curling in the best way, pressure to your clothed heat against him increased tenfold it seems. your breathing shudders, glancing up at him again, hands hugging tighter around his neck, keeping eye contact with him.

not having sex doesn't mean you don't know how an erection works. you press your weight down into his chest to get him on his back, hips lifting off just enough to let his erect cock spring closer to his stomach with a gentle smack before you're seating yourself again -- against the underside this time with a shudder, "t-there. don't wanna..break it or something."

he snorts under his breath, hand sliding up the softness of your tummy, slightly rough fingertips toying the top hem of your little sleep shorts, looking at you in silent question. you're so sweet and soft when you whisper your confirmation that he has to take a long breath, fingers gliding under the band of your shorts, tips exploring new skin reverently.

he doesn't push past the other layer of fabric, merely slides his hand down the front of your shorts, your own hips tilting to make it easier for him to touch you like this. he can feel the heat of you as he cups you through your panties — the slick, soaked press of fabric that sticks right to your skin, face getting all hot in his arousal when he feels how wet you already are, soaked straight through. "all this for me? got my pretty baby all worked up from watching?" he sounds breathless, more than you maybe, shifting his hand to cup you fully.

your face burns hotter, nodding anyway. your expectations for how you'd feel having him finally touch you doesn't come close to the reality. his thumb eases down onto your sensitive clit through the sodden fabric slow and easy and you barely bite back a cry, softest circles drawn against the bud.

“I know, baby. feels good, yeah?” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. your own eyes flutter, forehead dropping onto his shoulder, hips shifting to get closer, to get more almost greedily. "grind on me just like that, I got you." so you do. you keep up with your grinding on his lap. satoru’s going slow as you he can, thumbing your clit over your damp panties, murmuring little praises in your ear. his wrist is wedged all awkwardly, angle all wrong -- but neither of you can bring yourselves to care.

it's everything and nothing all at once. perfect but not completely at the same time and you just want to feel more, finding yourself needing exactly that. "satoru, please.." it's like he already knows what you need -- both of you actually. his hand pulls out from where it's shoved down the front of your pants and you barely go a moment without his touch before his hands are on you again. thumb hooking at the side of the fabric of both the shorts and the gusset of your panties to bare you properly with one hand, other dragging two digits through the slick mess of you easily.

you jerk with a choked sound, clutching at his broad shoulders, lowering onto his chest to press your face in his neck. "fuck," he groans, breath catching. "you're so…god." he sucks in a long breath, counting in twos in his head to keep himself from blowing like a virgin at the sight of you bare. it's hard not to when he's never seen you like this, this intimately.

it's almost too much, the way he parts your folds so gently, like he's trying to coax you open for him. "ooh, 'toru." your hips jerk, little pants warming the side of his skin as you twist and shift -- he doesn't have a free hand to even try to keep you still. one swipe of his finger along the sensitive underside of your clit has you bucking into him with a gasp, rolling directly onto the lengthy shaft of his cock. bare this time, completely different from doing it clothed.

it's almost hilarious how you both tense up, how his stroking halts.

"baby—" satoru rasps, and you're sure you feel him stiffening even more under you. your laughter comes airy, not from humor exactly but from how caught off guard you are. your hips roll again just to test the feeling out, breath skipping at the heavy press of his dick against where you're most sensitive. you can feel everything. the weight of him. the pulse of the vein you'd ran your tongue along earlier. how hot and solid he is. "ooh…my fuck.."

he seems to catch himself when you moan against him, fingers keeping your folds parted, your own hips not halting for a second. arousal smears down the girthy length of him, puffy folds so slick he's practically gliding between them. your hands plant near the sides of his head for more leverage as you chase a feeling you didn't know you needed badly till now, chasing the rapidly rising heat in your belly.

"oh shitshithshit--" not quite eloquent but you can't put into words how good it feels. so close to being inside you but not at all -- but your body reacts like he is. all he is is just thick and heavy dragging against your cunt, head barely catching on your entrance and you're already losing your head.

your hips roll again, dragging your clit right along the underside of his cock and it takes everything in him not to grab your hips and rut upward into your warmth. takes all self control he has left.

“satoru,” you moan, all reedy and sweet.

scratch that. apparently he doesn't have that much control left. not much at all.

he groans low in his throat, keeping you spread against his shaft. the now freed hand slides up to your hip, around to cup your ass. "gonna make it feel better. gonna make you cum.." then he's spurring you into motion. moving you harder along his cock, pressure enough to have you moaning into the air, squeezing his shoulders. "that's it..grind on my cock." the light squelching between you is almost obscene, but satoru doesn’t seem to mind — not with how he’s groaning through clenched teeth, with how he's subtly bucking his hips up into the paced movement of your hips.

you’re flushed, breathing hard between moans, trying so hard to keep your composure. but your thighs are shaking now, coil pulled taut in your abdomen. and it's painfully obvious to him. satoru only pulls you harder back and forth against his shaft, letting your soft clit rub all over him, letting you rut faster. "feels so weird. so weird.."

"yeah?" he hums, face in your hair, memorizing your scent your sounds. "good weird or bad?"

“good. good,'toru.” you whine, broken. “i—i think…”

"i know, i know. y're doin' so.." his hand squeezes the fat of your ass where he has you held, hips bucking up a little harder, cunt slippin' and sliding against him, "so good. be good and cum on me, hm?" his grip is greedier now, no more pretending that he has any bit of control right now. not when you're slick and messy on his dick, making noises in his ear. his balls feel like their drawing tighter by the second and all he can do is pseudo fuck you harder and whisper filth in your ear. if grinding feels this good, he can't even begin to imagine what sex with you--

he kills the thought immediately, harsh throb at the base of him spine a clear warning.

no thinking of sex with you while he's minutes from cumming, got it.

but it’s already too much. you’re panting, shaky in his hold, whining softly each time your clit drags just right along the underside of him. every catch of your entrance on the bulb of him only makes things worse. your fingers slide up into his hair as you quiver, kissing along the side of his face, practically babbling as your entire body tightens up with your impending orgasm.

in one, two beats, an angled grind against your core, your hips stutter -- lips parting against his flushed skin as your breath punches out of you in sob. the pressure in your abdomen bursts like a supernova, orgasm crashing over you like it’s trying to drag him under with it.

“oh fuck—look at you,” he groans, pulling back a little to watch you fall apart with wide, reverent eyes, pupils blown so wide it’s like they’re swallowing the blue.

satoru stands no chance, really. you're still rocking like you don't even realize that you are, looking the way you do…

"baby--" his head drops back, jaw clenched as he cums just seconds after you, hips bucking up once, twice, as his release spurts hot and glossy on his abs between you two. he shudders beneath you, riding it out with slow, involuntary jerks of his hips, groaning against the side of your head like the familiar warmth of you is the only thing keeping him grounded.

you stay like that for a second, both of you trembling, stuck in that suspended daze post orgasm. “…holy shit,” he mutters finally, voice hoarse, nose brushing the side of your cheek as he nuzzles in close. “you okay?”

you manage a jerky nod between all your shaking, face pressed up in his neck. "d-didn't think it would.." feel that good? be this messy? you're not quite sure. a slight unconscious shift of your hips has you whining in your overstimulation, hands grabbing at him. it feels like air would be too much against the flesh right now.

"I know, let me just.." he eases the fabric of your panties and shorts back over your heat to help with the sensitivity, thick arms banding around you to keep you to his chest. "did so good for me. made me lose my mind, baby."

you both know you should clean up -- everything's sticky between you, rapidly cooling against you. but it feels so nice to just lay here post…well, pseudo sex. or maybe this counted as the actual thing, you're not quite sure where the line is. neither of you make any moves to get off each other yet, though.

satoru's head tilts to kiss your temple again, hands smoothing up and down your back under your tee. "guess we're a officially past the make out stage." you flush with his comment, breathing out a laugh into his neck. maybe a little past making out, yeah. you're far too sheepish to meet his gaze currently, face remaining pressed into his skin.

you don't take count but it feels like ages before you're sitting up off him, climbing off his lap on wobbly legs. "let's just…we did this already so maybe we can shower now," you pause, chewing your lip as you mull over the words bouncing around your head, "together. now."

as if he'd ever so no to that. he's rolling out his spot immediately to scoop you up with enough ease to make your breath catch. "shower it is, then."

sena's note: took a little but here we are! 😼 wasn't quite sure how to escalate but I don't think this is too bad.

[adoralineangel]

—WHEN IT HAPPENED TO ME.

rafe cameron x pogue!reader

partially inspired by 'we hug now' by sydney rose

content warnings— 18+ MDNI, original afab!reader, drug/alcohol use, suggestive, strong language, angst, author's first time writing "x readers" in four years...if this is bad, that's why.

author's note— please send in requests :)

SUMMARY: you were warned, that's why when it all came crashing down — you had no one to blame but yourself.

a drunken night at the boneyard caused you to land in rafe cameron's arms, swaying to the music on the speaker that some touron brought.

chasing highs would always crash down eventually.

rafe was the first guy who ever made you feel good about being you, the first guy you had sex with, snuck out of your house to meet, who told you he loved you, that he wanted you, that he needed you.

two months since august meant two months since rafe went no contact with you.

no warning, no explanation, just your mind constantly at war with what you did wrong to make him leave.

your friends did their best to distract you, treating you as if your three-month romance with the kook king himself never happened. that they weren't betrayed when they found out that you were hooking up with rafe.

but the memories of him haunted you ever since. his calloused hands that touched you at night only so that no one could see you together, his soft lips that whispers faux promises that sounded so real, you believed him.

the pogues successfully got you out tonight, jj claiming that "beer and a kush joint he got from his cousin" would be just what you all needed.

you're standing next to pope whose doing a poor job at sneaking concerned glances at you, while john b and jj crack open the keg as everyone lines up for a cup.

kie hands you a cup, "shitty beer but it'll get the job done," she smiles.

giving her an appreciated nod, you immediately bring the bitter liquid to your mouth. your eyes scan the boneyard - taking in the pogues, tourons, and kooks who are all letting loose.

turning to face the ocean, you meet his intense presence. though his back is to you, you only notice the girl who's wrapped around his arm. her hair is short, bob-ish in a way, she looks at him the way you used to. infatuated.

you don't know how long you've been staring until sarah's presence makes herself known.

"you shouldn't look," her words were soft. "my brother's such a dick, i'm sorry."

your eyes meets her sympathetic ones. "it's fine," you shrug. "doesn't matter."

you both know you're lying but neither of you cares to mention it.

two hours have passed, you've thrown yourself into your cups. badly dancing with jj, laughing at dumb jokes he cracked at his expense to make you laugh — he always knew what to do to make you feel better.

you're happily wasted, for the first time in months, rafe isn't on your mind. with stumbling footsteps and slurred words, you find yourself enjoying your night.

wherever rafe was with his new girl, you told yourself that you didn't care.

that when his lips would touch hers, you wouldn't feel as if you were punched in the gut, that jealousy didn't maim you to your bones.

after a while of swaying to music, yapping loudly with your friends, you find your feet leading you to a secluded part of the boneyard. the need for quiet overwhelmed your impaired judgements.

finding a log by the ocean, you let yourself relax, taking in the sand between your toes and the nice buzz you got from jj's joint.

when you hear laughter, your head turns.

rafe and her are walking next to one another, drunkenly stumbling as they kiss one another. your heart drops, eyes wide, when you make eye contact with him.

you think he might've tensed up when your eyes meet, but he does a good job at recovering, as if you meant nothing to him.

never one good at communication or confrontation, your eyes fall back to the sand. you overanalyze the way it looks, how it feels, your body being completely aware of his presence. as it always was.

their laughs echoed through the beach, he looked as if he got everything he wanted, not wasting time stuck here like you.

despite your better judgements, you look up to find him one more time. she's still clinging onto him, leaning onto his chest the same way you used to. his eyes aren't fixed on hers anymore, rather they're intensely looking back at you.

he looks...cautious? like you're an injured animal that's ready to break. is that what you were now? damaged?

with intensified eyes, you meet his. the alcohol in your system gives you the courage to do so, to not entirely back down.

neither of you say anything, or think to walk towards the other person— rather the both of you just chooses to stare.

thinking about the what-ifs, could-have-beens, if only he didn't allow himself to break your heart.

after another moment of reminiscing on his face, taking in the slope of his nose, his cerulean eyes, you're the first one to break eye contact.

maybe he thought your relationship was just a small thing that happened, but the world ended when it happened to you.

[lucydixon]

How would pelle and Faust react to head? Like be really overwhelmed or would this be the one time that they are rough?

Oh, man. These two would both be a fucking mess if you gave them head.

Pelle would be a goner the second he feels the warmth of your mouth around him. He would immediately throw his head back and screw his eyes shut, completely overwhelmed by the feeling. He'd be gripping the sheets desperately and writhing under your touch.

He might not even be able to make a sound. His mouth would hang open in a silent scream, and his breathing would come out in short pants. It would either be this, or loud, uncontrollable groans and gasps.

It would be so easy to overstimulate Pelle. You'd have to stop as soon as he cums or else he's toeing the line between pleasure and pain. He'd start hissing, and tears would roll down his cheeks, but he'd never ask you to stop. He wouldn't know his own limits, so you'd have to figure it out for him.

Faust would at least try to watch you while you gave him head. Eventually, probably when he's getting close, his head would fall back in bliss.

He'd want to see what you were doing and what his cock looked like disappearing down your throat. one hand would thread its fingers through your hair, softly at first, while the other gripped the edge of the closest surface so hard that his knuckles were white.

His hips would buck forward every once in a while, and he'd slam into the back of your throat accidentally, making you gag, but he'd immediately apologize profusely.

I can't see Faust being rough with you while you're in such a vulnerable position. He'd be so afraid of hurting you or choking you that he'd only guide your movements slightly with the grip he'd have on your hair. Despite this, the gagging and choking sounds that you make would turn him on so bad that he'd almost feel guilty enjoying the sounds of you struggling to take him.

Speaking of sounds, he would be a whimpering mess the whole time, letting out soft moans and groans every time he felt your tongue pressed up against the bottom of his cock or your hollowed out cheeks gripping the sides. He'd make especially loud sounds any time you gagged or moaned, sending vibrations along his cock.

I don't see either of them lasting more than two minutes with their cocks in your mouth. There probably wouldn't be a whole lot of head. They'd both be acutely aware of how quickly they finished and would prefer getting to feel the inside of your cunt. But on special occasions, always after they'd made you finish at least once, they'd be open to it and would let you milk them dry.

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics

[this-sapphic-paradise]

part 4 of agegap lottienat when?! 👀

(((Part 4/4)))

Content warning:

Heavy mommy kink

(Implied) age play/regression

!! Don't like it, don't read it !!

"Tell mommy what you want, baby. Ask for it. And I'll give it to you."

Natalie whines again, too far gone, too wrapped up in Lottie, too naive to fully understand what it means to cross the boundaries she's about to cross.

"P-Please..." Her voice is barely above a whisper, but just saying that one little word is enough to make Natalie's head lull back against Lottie's shoulder; like the word carries the entire weight of her most forbidden secrets.

"Ask." Lottie purrs the command; hips rocking against Nat's ass. "Say the words. Own your desires."

"Mommy..."

"That's it. Keep going." Lottie smirks and nips on Nat's ear, making her shudder. "You're doing so well for me. Don't stop."

Natalie's skin is on fire. Her muscles are weak. Her mind is full of static. She is completely lost, but god she has never felt more alive.

"I..." Natalie swallows hard, her chest heaving as her breaths come out in short puffs. "I-I want to be yours. Please, mommy. Please. Make me yours."

The desire to howl, to bare her teeth and tear into flesh, to crack Natalie open and feast on her beating heart overwhelms Lottie as the girl's pleas set every one of her nerves alight. But it isn't time yet. It isn't Lottie's turn yet.

She steps back, dizzy with power and desire, and orders, "Turn around. Kneel."

And Nat obeys.

She falls onto her knees, looking up at the statuesque woman before her with pure hunger and adoration. Nat needs her. She needs her so fucking bad it hurts.

"Please." She begs again despite not knowing what it is she's burning for.

Keeping her eyes locked with Natalie's, Lottie pushes down the shawl covering her shoulders until it pools around her feet. Natalie barely has any time to admire the well defined muscles of Lottie's arms before they are moving again, reaching underneath her dress until her fingers hook themselves on the waistline of her thong, pushing it down so it can join the shawl.

Natalie swallows dryly. There's only the thin fabric of Lottie's white satin dress separating Nat from the object of her desires and they both know it. They both feel it. It charges the air around them as Lottie's fingers walk along her thighs over her dress, gathering the material in her hands before pulling it over her head in one swift motion.

And there she stands. Completely naked. Making an offering of herself to the little starving lamb knelt at her feet.

Lottie extends a hand for Nat to take, helping her up onto unsteady legs, and with her free hand, Lottie makes her look her in the eye again.

"Take what you want, my sweet girl." Lottie commands, sealing Natalie's fate with words that drip down her spine like honey—slow, sweet, sticky. "Feed. Devour. Satiate your hunger."

A growl tears through Natalie's throat as she lurches forward, crashing against Lottie. Her mouth clamps around a hardened nipple, sucking and biting and consuming while her fingertips dig into sculpted back muscles like they intend to cut through flesh and make a new home out of Lottie's ribcage.

"That's it. Oh. That's it." Lottie moans despite the pain. Through the pain. Because of the pain. She gently combs her fingers through Natalie's hair, encouraging her as she latches on to her other nipple, but she never dictates Nat's movements; Lottie is just a vessel, she is just an instrument, a conduit to Natalie's awakening. Salvation. Rebirth.

They stumble back onto the couch and Natalie continues sucking and biting every inch of skin her mouth can reach while her hands frantically rid her body of her clothes.

"F-Fuuuck," She cries brokenly as her naked thigh makes contact with Lottie’s soaked pussy for the first time. "It's- i-it's so fucking hot." She hisses, pressing her thigh down again with more intent.

"All for you." Lottie moans. "All because of you, darling." Shaky hands cup Nat's face to make her look up, and when she does, Lottie says, "Don't hold back. Let it all out. I want it. I got you."

Despite the desire burning through her, Lottie's words unlock something deep within Nat's mind and before she can register what is happening, there are tears running down her cheeks, dripping silently onto Lottie's chest.

"I-I..." Nat tries to put into words the turmoil happening inside her mind, but how can she? How can she explain what she doesn't fully understand? All Nat knows is that she's tired of having to fight tooth and nail for everything in her life, that she is tired of having to be strong, that she is tired of having to use violence to carve her way through life.

Desperate, frantic eyes beg Lottie for help and what kind of mother would she be if she refuses?

"Oh, my sweet girl," Lottie coos, taking Natalie with her as she sits up. "It's okay. Mommy's here." A pitiful little whine leaves Nat's lips and the sound shouldn't be so arousing to Lottie, but fuck, it is.

She gently holds Natalie in her lap, cradling her sideways truly like a mother trying to soothe her baby. "I got you," Lottie repeats, kissing Natalie's head which is resting on her shoulder. "Do you want mommy to make you feel good, babygirl?" She asks, gently running her fingers up and down Natalie's thigh.

Inhaling sharply, Nat nods, spreading her legs ever so slightly.

Lottie chuckles, but this time it doesn't cause Nat to react badly, it just makes her whine again, spreading her legs a little more.

"My precious darling," Lottie purrs, moving her fingers to cover the expanse of Nat's inner thigh at a snail's pace. "Have I made you forget how to speak already?"

The tone of Lottie's voice—so smug, so sure—and the implication of her words make Nat whine again, trying to hide her blush by pressing her face further against Lottie's shoulder.

Lottie sighs dreamily as her fingers finally touch the molten heat between Natalie's thighs, feeling the girl tremble in her lap. She stays still for a few seconds, allowing Nat to get used to her touch, but it doesn't take long for the little lamb to offer herself by discreetly rocking her hips.

"You're doing so well for me, my love," she says, rubbing her fingers along Nat's glistening folds until they are covered with her arousal. But before she gives Nat what she so clearly desires, Lottie smears Nat's arousal all over her nipple—the one closest to Nat's face—then she commands, "Be a good girl and nurse on mommy, baby. I want to feel your lips on me while I make you feel good."

Natalie's face burns with embarrassment. She shouldn't be into any of this; she should be horrified, she should push Charlotte and run for the fucking hills, but god!!!! There's no denying the ocean flowing between her legs.

More slowly and deliberately than the first time she did it, Natalie wraps her lips around Lottie's nipple, groaning in delight when she tastes her own arousal.

Lottie smirks devilishly as she watches Natalie's eyes roll to the back of her head at her own taste, and she's quickly rewards her by finding her swollen clit with the tip of her fingers and rubbing it slowly.

"Such an obedient and eager girl for mommy," Lottie praises, feeling Nat's tongue swirl around her nipple in response. "Tell me, baby," Lottie drawls, "are you a virgin?"

Nat's blush spreads even further down her body because Lottie knows the answer to that, she had told her about the guys she has slept with during one of their sessions—when the sessions were still about therapy—so Natalie knows Lottie wants to humiliate her, make her admit to her sins while completely tearing her apart.

Groaning, she shakes her head and mumbles a "No," around the nipple in her mouth.

"Mm..." Lottie watches Natalie through hooded eyes, trying to ignore how her own arousal is soaking through the fabric of the couch. "So, I guess just one of mommy's fingers won't be enough, huh?" Lottie tsks, being deliberately mean with her words.

A sharp inhale fills the room when Nat feels Lottie entering her with one lone finger.

"Mm... So wet... So warm..." Lottie kisses Nat's forehead before starting to move her finger in and out ever so slowly—she doesn't mean to please just yet. It's too soon. Natalie is still too whole. She needs to unravel her further; break her into smaller pieces, slice her into bite sizes that'll melt into her mouth.

Natalie brings one hand up and starts playing with Lottie’s other nipple, rolling and pinching it between her fingers. "P-Please," she breathes out. "M-more."

Growling low in her throat, Lottie has to remind herself to breathe, to remain in control of the beast caged inside her ribs. With eyes darker and more shiny than obsidian, she commands without pausing the finger teasing Natalie, "Again. Ask again. Mommy loves hearing how much you need me."

"M-mommy..." Natalie whines pitifully, but she gushes around Lottie's finger at the undeniable proof that she's affecting Lottie just as much as the older woman is affecting her. It brings her solace, it gives her confidence, it turns her on even more. "Please. I... I-I need another finger."

"So polite when you want to be," Lottie playfully teases, pulling her finger out and gingerly pushing two back in. As if she didn't just hear the loud moan that escaped Nat, Lottie scissors her fingers and asks with faux innocence, "Does it feel good, babygirl?"

"Mommy!!" Nat gasps, clenching her inner muscles, trying to pull Lottie's fingers even deeper. "S-So good!! Oh god..."

Short, blunt nails dig into the flesh of Lottie's breast, making her hiss in delight, and as if remembering her one task, Nat goes back to sucking on Lottie's nipple hard, hollowing her cheeks, getting the flesh deep in her mouth with no care about bruises or marks—after all, Lottie is already hers, isn't she?

"Fuck." The older woman groans; eyelids fluttering, nostrils flaring, and fingers speeding up inside her sweet girl. "Do you-- Do you want another finger, baby? Can you take one more for mommy??"

Natalie honestly doesn't know if she would able to deny Lottie anything, especially not when her lithe fingers are curling inside her, hitting a spot Natalie didn't even know existed until that very moment. She doesn't pull back to answer, she can't—she needs to consume, to mark, to claim—she just growls and nods her head as best as she can, knowing Lottie will understand.

And of course she does.

"Look at me."

Nat's lust-filled eyes snap open, but she keeps on sucking.

"Good girl," Lottie purrs, pulling her fingers out. "I want to see the look in your eyes when I bring you to your ruin, sweet girl."

With a possessive, famished smile that should scare her, Nat watches Lottie's angelic face watching her as she feels her pussy stretching around Lottie's fingers.

The stretch stings, it causes her breath to hitch, but Lottie isn't one of the clumsy, inexperienced boys Nat has slept with; she doesn't rush, she cares too much about Nat to risk hurting her, and that knowledge has Natalie moaning louder still, willing her muscles to relax until Lottie's fingers have bottomed out.

"Look at you," Lottie whispers lovingly, giving Nat a few seconds to adjust and in that time she notices how Nat's pink-tinted skin is coated with sweat, how her bangs are sticking to her face, how her chest is heaving; but most importantly, Lottie notices how the hunger in Nat’s eyes is an exact match to her own. "My good, good girl."

Nat's eyes roll back the moment Lottie begins moving her fingers again, going straight for that one spot inside Nat like she is on a mission.

"Eyes on me, baby."

Nat obeys. Barely. But she does.

"There you are." Lottie grins, not caring that Nat's fingers have stopped toying with her nipple, seemingly just holding on to the flesh like a lifeline. "I want you to let go, baby. Feel mommy's love. Let me make you feel good."

Lottie's fingers speed up and Nat groans. She's close, she's so fucking close!! She can barely keep her eyes open, but it's the sight of Lottie's beautiful face watching her with nothing but complete devotion that is pushing her faster and faster toward the edge.

"Oh, I can feel you fluttering around my fingers," Lottie marvels, her face reflecting the magnitude of her feelings.

That alone would have been enough to send the scales tumbling, but when Lottie's raspy voice whispers, "You make mommy so happy. Come for me, baby." Nat sees stars.

Her back arches, her pussy clenches around Lottie's fingers, and she bites down hard on the nipple in her mouth until she can taste iron. The second that happens, she hears a loud gasp and she feels Lottie rocking her hips again and again and again.

After what feels like an eternity and with aftershocks still shooting through her body, Natalie finally regains her vision and pulls back from Lottie's nipple.

"Did- Did you..." Her voice is hoarse, her throat dry despite the taste of blood still lingering on her tongue.

Lottie's laughter is sweet in Nat’s ear. "Mhm." She hums, gently retrieving her fingers and offering them to Nat. "Be a darling and clean them for me." And Nat mindlessly obeys, opening her mouth, welcoming the digits.

She moans around them, tasting the richness of her own release, licking and sucking on Lottie's fingers until there's no trace of her left.

When she's done, Lottie helps her sit up and hugs her tightly.

"How are you feeling, baby? Be honest, please."

Nat purrs against Lottie's ear, smiling even though she can't see it. "Thirsty. Exhausted." A beat. "...Happy..."

Exhaling a sigh of relief and kisses Nat's temple, Lottie says, "That makes me glad, darling." And somehow Nat knows she means it. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up. You're sleeping with me tonight." Nat beams and lets herself be led around.

Maybe Charlotte Matthews will eventually turn out to be her downfall, but Natalie—so used to being fed scraps—feels like she has own the fucking lottery. She has found someone who's willing to love her, to take care of her, to keep her close. And if that means her future is ruined, so fucking be it, because Natalie is nothing but an addict and she's willing to do absolutely anything for her next fix.

[stargatelov3r]

SG-1 TITLE DROPS: 1.01-02 CHILDREN OF THE GODS

[sappho-of-suburbia]

eating a girl out for the first time? as someone with a couple of decades' experience (i started young, ok?), can i offer some advice?

take your time. your aim isn't to make her come as fast as possible, it's to make sure she enjoys every moment. slow down, revel in the process of finding out what she likes.

tell her how beautiful she is, how tempting her cunt looks, how intoxicating it smells, how sweet she tastes. she might be feeling vulnerable, especially if she's inexperienced too - it's your job to make her feel safe and adored.

enjoy the journey - i know you just want to feel your tongue on her clit NOW, but exploring her thighs, working your way slowly to her folds, trailing all the way up her cunt, drinking her juices, letting her feel your breath before she feels your touch...it'll be worth it. for both of you.

learn to read her body with all of your senses. she might be vocal but she might prefer to bite her lip or enjoy being gagged. you don't need to hear her words to know what to do. you'll feel her muscles twitch and relax - learn what it means when she lifts her hips, squirms or sinks into you. she might taste and smell differently when she is close to coming for you. pay close attention to her clit - if you're lucky and you've done a particularly good job, you might see it twitch as she recovers from the perfect orgasm. enjoy it.

you can be vocal though. moan into her. use every sensation you can. light flicks to determined, long, slow licks. blow gently on her wetness. how does she react to your lip piercing? your teeth?

build and add to the experience until she's completely overwhelmed. play with her nipples. run your nails over her skin. lift her legs and spank her.

chances are, she'll get to the point where she really needs you to fuck her. slip your tongue all the way down and inside her. if you can't breathe, you're doing it right. that means you probably won't be able to keep it up for hours, so save this move for when she's right on the edge and you're ready to let her tip over.

if you're especially lucky and she's a squirter, you will get absolutely soaked. enjoy it. show her you're enjoying it. moan into her cunt; she'll come even harder.

if she needs to be fucked harder, slip your fingers inside her cunt and curl them up towards your tongue as it circles her clit. all of her most sensitive nerves will be between your tongue and your fingers. you'll be able to feel every tiny twitch inside her; it's the most beautiful place in the world to be.

when she can truly take no more, stay close to her as you drift away from her cunt. kiss your way up her tummy and her chest, let her taste herself on your lips as you hold her and let her ride out the aftershocks. trail your fingertips over her back. whisper in her ear. tell her everything you loved about eating her out.

[witherby]

The Littlest Wayne

Or, the one where Bruce brings home a baby, and your adorable little face wins the heart of your new, big brothers.

Platonic!Reader and Batfam

"Bruce."

"Don't freak out."

"Bruce."

"You're freaking out. I can see it in your eyes, but don't do it."

"This is a problem. This is an actual addiction and you need help."

"You're overreacting. I need everyone to take a deep breath, in and out, and not freak out."

Dick crossed his arms and glared at his father, narrowed eyes shifting up and down in an extremely pointed manner. Tim and Jason were wearing similar expressions, looking either at Bruce himself or the bundle in his arms.

Damian walked across the room and peered down at the bundle, expressionless.

"Father, come on."

Bruce carefully brushed the edge of the blanket away from your face. You scrunched your tiny nose, disturbed, then settled back down without issue. The billionaire had found you abandoned outside the garage doors of the Gotham Fire Station, left there by some overwhelmed mother no doubt. Unfortunately, that particular station was closed on the weekends, because of course this damned city couldn't staff a fire station 24/7, and if he hadn't found you on patrol, you would have frozen to death on the ground.

"They were in danger!" Bruce insisted firmly, but kept his voice soft so as not to frighten you. "Look — they don't have black hair or blue eyes. You can tell I didn't do it on purpose."

"Why not take the baby to the GCPD, then? Or a hospital?" Jason piped up, unamused. "B, cut the bullshit. You can't keep 'em."

"I brought them here first to ensure they didn't need any immediate medical attention."

"Which is something a hospital could do," Tim said.

"An overcrowded and understaffed hospital, that doesn't have the time to spare to give them direct and undivided attention?" Bruce argued. "The med ward in the Cave is just as efficient as an emergency room, if not more so."

"And the fact that you aren't down there with the baby — the baby you are not keeping," Dick chimed in, holding out his arms for you, "means that they're perfectly fine and can be transported safely somewhere else."

"They're sleeping right now," Bruce said, completely deadpan, and made no move to relinquish his hold over you. "We can't put them in a noisy car and upset them. We can drop the baby off in the morning."

"He's getting dangerously attached," Dick hissed to his brothers. "We need the big guns."

"I'll alert Pennyworth," Damian declared, already ducking out of the room. Bruce scowled, aware the battle was quickly turning against his favor. But he could play dirty, too.

He dropped his shoulders and the furrow of his brow turned slightly down, weary and forlorn. He stopped looking at his boys and instead studied all your tiny features, tracing a finger down the bridge of your nose, gently across your lashes, and over your plump little cheeks. You were absolutely adorable. He was already thinking of names for you in his mind.

"You know, I never got to raise any of you from infancy," he stated, not in any pointed manner, just as objective fact. Just quietly enough that they could think Bruce hadn't meant to say it out loud. "Not that I would've wanted to steal that experience from your birth parents. I would never. But...I don't even know what Damian looked like when he was this small."

Dick's eye twitched. The glare was still in place, but his frown was less severe. One down.

"I'm sorry, boys," he sighed, acting as though he were giving in. "The Mission has taken up so much of my time, it's hard not to wonder what I would have been like as a normal father. Just the formative things, like... like changing diapers, and doing Tummy Time, and helping you guys learn to walk."

Tim's eyes grew distant, likely thinking of his own parents and the loneliness he felt growing up in Drake Manor all by himself. He was no doubt recalling how much he wished his mom or dad had been around, to play or to talk to or just to physically be there with him, instead of off traveling the world and leaving him behind to fend for himself.

Two down.

But Jason, despite all that had happened over the years, despite the strain on his relationship with Bruce, had always been the most emotional of his children. He would not be hard to win over.

"This would be a mistake," Bruce stated, looking his second oldest right in the eyes. "They'd be happier somewhere else, somewhere normal. Maybe...maybe one of you could hold them and I can go start the car? I can feel myself starting to get attached, and that's not fair to you, boys. I didn't mean to stress you all out. I wasn't thinking."

Jason huffed, lowering his feet from where they'd been propped up on the coffee table, and stood from the couch to come take you from Bruce. His arms carefully held you to his broad chest, your weight settling against him pleasantly.

He made the mistake of watching you scrunch your face and whine softly, itty bitty hands poking out from your blanket and gripping onto his shirt sleeve with all the strength your small body could muster.

Jason's expression dropped immediately, and he practically melted as he tucked you closer.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

Damian and Alfred walked into the living room to find Bruce, Jason, Dick, and Tim all cooing and fawning over you, and the war was lost.

Welcome home, Littlest Wayne.

[cursingtoji]

cw: band au, rockstar!geto x groupie!gf, slight manipulation?, car sex, oral. a/n: geto deserves a loser gf too. gojo version nanami version toji version

geto who has a rock band and though they’re quite small they already have a #1 fan: you.

the band is all you talk about, going to the point of making your own shirts and posters, you doodle the bands logo everywhere and, most importantly you don't miss a single concert.

by the end of it you're waiting next to the back door of the pub when the band comes out, as soon as you see suguru you call his name extending your little gift bag.

"woah for me? thanks, doll." he takes your chin and gives your glossy lips a peck that makes your heartbeat spike up and your face warm up. geto fucking suguru just kissed you!

during all that week you were on cloud nine, so distracted and giggly.

of course geto notices you, always in the front row and ready to give the band some gifts, he sees how you try to dress up as one of them before they even realize they have a visual identity.

geto likes having fangirls, if anything that’s the best sign that the band is doing well. till that point he never considered engaging to one in a more intimate level. after all, women were never a problem for him, fans or not.

the problem is when they think more of the relationship than it really is. geto has always made sure they knew that sleeping together and treating them well was not synonymous to committed relationship.

because he already is committed. to his music. so after spending the whole day trying to come up with a new song so the band may finally have a complete album to present to a record, he takes a frustrated break picking up his phone and to his dismay only finding a long message about how he hurt someone’s feelings.

“oh for fucks sake” he lets his phone fall on the couch and take his keys, this is not a good week to quit smoking.

“geto?” he hears a small voice calling him after he leaves the convenience store with a very much needed cigarette on his lips and nicotine in his system.

“oh hey” he recognizes you by name and face.

“you’re using the lighter” you point out enthusiastically, that was a limited edition you bought and gifted him.

“that’s right, you bought me this, did i say thank you?” he’s genuinely wondering, your face heats remembering the kiss.

“i-its no big deal” you brush it off, since he doesn’t seem to be in a rush you start to babble about one specific song and everything you loved about it, knowing he was the composer.

“do wanna go to my place?” he says after quietly listening to your passionate thoughts. you think steam is about to come out of your ears at how hot your face got.

geto throws away what’s left of his cigarette and takes your hand, not really waiting for a response since the heart in your eyes is pretty obvious.

“you’re so cute” he says with his face mushed into your breasts as he guides your movements on his lap. you never guessed when you came out this morning you would be riding your favorite guitarist’s dick a few hours later, if you knew you probably would’ve put a sexier lingerie. not that he would care, by the way he pushed your bottoms down all at once he probably didn’t even know what color your underwear was.

geto pulled your hair tilting your head to meet his mouth, he devoured you so intensely, so overwhelming… you came not even needing your clit to be touched, just by having him inside you and breathing into your mouth like that was enough.

for suguru it was all a power trip, when he saw you after a concert he knew it wouldn’t take you much sweet talking to get you in his car.

he quickly mumbled an excuse to meet the band at the bar later and in just a few minutes he had you bobbing your head down his cock, “just like that, gorgeous, so good” his head is thrown back as he moans softly.

and as the band grew more popular and they had to travel to other cities to perform he would always count on you to meet him at his hotel room.

“geto~” you mewl his name as he eats your pussy from behind so lewdly.

from the very first time you knew it was over for every other guy the moment he touched you. no matter what anyone said about geto, that he was using you, he would never marry you, you didn’t care. you would be his devotee as long as he wanted.

and geto got all he wanted, a pretty little thing that didn’t complain or asked too many questions and best of all: that loved his music and understood his work.

“i know, you have to practice” you kiss him one last time before gathering your clothing from the floor, the hints of him not wanting to stay over were all memorized at this point, so you turn your back at him and make your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

but the usual sound of the door opening and closing never came, instead you saw him coming from behind to lace strong arms around your waist, “well maybe just tonight” he smells your hair and through the mirror he sees the tattoo bellow your belly button, just above the hem of your underwear. your prof of love: the logo of the band.

geto touches it and you giggle at the feathery feeling, like a tickle, he likes that sound. he likes you.

“i was thinking you should get another, right here” a finger caress your right ass cheek.

“the same one?” you ask confused.

“no, silly, something else” he gets down hands caressing your hips and kissing the extension of your butt, “my name.”

[physalian]

How to make your writing sound less stiff

Just a few suggestions. You shouldn’t have to compromise your writing style and voice with any of these, and some situations and scenes might demand some stiff or jerky writing to better convey emotion and immersion. I am not the first to come up with these, just circulating them again.

1. Vary sentence structure.

This is an example paragraph. You might see this generated from AI. I can’t help but read this in a robotic voice. It’s very flat and undynamic. No matter what the words are, it will be boring. It’s boring because you don’t think in stiff sentences. Comedians don’t tell jokes in stiff sentences. We don’t tell campfire stories in stiff sentences. These often lack flow between points, too.

So funnily enough, I had to sit through 87k words of a “romance” written just like this. It was stiff, janky, and very unpoetic. Which is fine, the author didn’t tell me it was erotica. It just felt like an old lady narrator, like Old Rose from Titanic telling the audience decades after the fact instead of living it right in the moment. It was in first person pov, too, which just made it worse. To be able to write something so explicit and yet so un-titillating was a talent. Like, beginner fanfic smut writers at least do it with enthusiasm.

2. Vary dialogue tag placement

You got three options, pre-, mid-, and post-tags.

Leader said, “this is a pre-dialogue tag.”

“This,” Lancer said, “is a mid-dialogue tag.”

“This is a post-dialogue tag,” Heart said.

Pre and Post have about the same effect but mid-tags do a lot of heavy lifting.

They help break up long paragraphs of dialogue that are jank to look at

They give you pauses for ~dramatic effect~

They prompt you to provide some other action, introspection, or scene descriptor with the tag. *don't forget that if you're continuing the sentence as if the tag wasn't there, not to capitalize the first word after the tag. Capitalize if the tag breaks up two complete sentences, not if it interrupts a single sentence.

It also looks better along the lefthand margin when you don’t start every paragraph with either the same character name, the same pronouns, or the same “ as it reads more natural and organic.

3. When the scene demands, get dynamic

General rule of thumb is that action scenes demand quick exchanges, short paragraphs, and very lean descriptors. Action scenes are where you put your juicy verbs to use and cut as many adverbs as you can. But regardless of if you’re in first person, second person, or third person limited, you can let the mood of the narrator bleed out into their narration.

Like, in horror, you can use a lot of onomatopoeia.

Drip Drip Drip

Or let the narration become jerky and unfocused and less strict in punctuation and maybe even a couple run-on sentences as your character struggles to think or catch their breath and is getting very overwhelmed.

You can toss out some grammar rules, too and get more poetic.

Warm breath tickles the back of her neck. It rattles, a quiet, soggy, rasp. She shivers. If she doesn’t look, it’s not there. If she doesn’t look, it’s not there. Sweat beads at her temple. Her heart thunders in her chest. Ba-bump-ba-bump-ba-bump-ba- It moves on, leaving a void of cold behind. She uncurls her fists, fingers achy and palms stinging from her nails. It’s gone.

4. Remember to balance dialogue, monologue, introspection, action, and descriptors.

The amount of times I have been faced with giant blocks of dialogue with zero tags, zero emotions, just speech on a page like they’re notecards to be read on a stage is higher than I expected. Don’t forget that though you may know exactly how your dialogue sounds in your head, your readers don’t. They need dialogue tags to pick up on things like tone, specifically for sarcasm and sincerity, whether a character is joking or hurt or happy.

If you’ve written a block of text (usually exposition or backstory stuff) that’s longer than 50 words, figure out a way to trim it. No matter what, break it up into multiple sections and fill in those breaks with important narrative that reflects the narrator’s feelings on what they’re saying and whoever they’re speaking to’s reaction to the words being said. Otherwise it’s meaningless.

—

Hope this helps anyone struggling! Now get writing.

[sacrificiallane]

PERCY JACKSON ( too sweet )

— about you're too scared to give him head ; smut happens .

warning ! heavy makeout turned dry humping / mention of drenched underwear / horny teens ! percy being the sweetest boyfriend ever. allusion to giving head ( it doesn’t really happen, though )

"I love you," kiss, "love you," kiss, "gods ―"

Percy Jackson speaks pretty nonsense when your plush lips trail further and further down his body. He swears this is his Elysium ― pushed into his sea themed sheets and getting utterly loved by you.

"So, so good to me, pretty girl." And you live by his constant praise.

Only in his blue boxers he's literal putty under your teasing hands, as your mouth trails a path over each of his freckles, seemingly forming constellations with just your sweet mouth on him.

It's muscle memory when his hips lift off the bed, trying to get even more friction from how easily your making out had turned into... this.

Your lips easily find the rough patch of his happy trail, and Percy stutters a little in his breathing. He is closing his eyes in anticipation, his fingers already finding space in your hair.... and then ―

― and then your mouth quickly moves back up, almost as if you're rushing to get back into familiar territory. It's the only indication he needs, to know that you're not just merely trying to tease him.

His sea green eyes slowly flutter open again, and Percy tries to find his thoughts somewhere that isn't tugged under his waistband.

His voice is all hazy when his eyes connect with yours again.

"You scared to go lower?"

And his question was so genuine ― you wanted to cry. He wasn't being pushy, and nothing in his tone suggested that he was disappointed or upset. No, your boyfriend was genuinely checking in with you, to see if you were okay with all this.

He then found your gaze turn a bit sheepish, almost... shy, as you slowly nodded your pretty head at him. "Uhm, yea," he heard you whisper, and a flush overtook your features, "it's scary down there. I don't know what to do with... all that."

Oh. oh….

Percy can't even stop himself from snorting a bit at your answer. Leave it to his partner, to describe his most sensitive part as 'scary'. He finds it all too sweet, too!

Of course, there was barely anything you could do 'wrong' with it, in his mind, anyway. But Percy is the last person to push you into something you aren't completely comfortable with.

The guy would happily just let you kiss him silly, if that's all you're comfy with!

"Sweetheart," his gaze softens at your admission, and his thumb softly brushes over your cheek, just to see you look less worried about his reaction. "That's totally fine," he hums, and watches you closely, "we can try some other time. Or we can never try again. Whatever you'd like. I'm happy when you’re happy, honestly."

But it's the way you tell him that you totally don't want to stop this completely! You have urges too, after all. So Percy finds himself greedily licking into your mouth, until further thoughts just melt away. He's quick to flip the both of you over, hovering above you, all while making pretty little sounds of pleasure that mingle with your own.

His body molds perfectly against your own, and a roll of his hips is enough to leave you dumb. Your lips are all shiny and swollen when he's done with devouring your face, and a lopsided smile splits over his lips that make your tummy flutter. He's on you before you can even take a moment to breathe, already thrusting ― gentle, slow ― against your clothed most sensitive part.

You're so overwhelmed by his sheer gentleness, that your own hips desperately buckle against his! And Percy can only watch in awe as your legs open wider for him, as to beckon him even closer.

He doesn’t need you to suck his dick! No, Percy prefers you just like this… sprawled open and eager for him to take care of you.

Your hand seeking out his own, is enough to have his own stomach flutter. He is quick to interlock his fingers with yours, pressing them into the mattress right beside your head and keeping them there...

And Percy is almost embarrassed at how much he is really leaking through his boxers. It creates a wet squelching patch right where his tip keeps rubbing into your clit, and the mere sight of such has him less embarrassed and even more eager to make you both feel good.

His eyes quickly find yours again, knowing that you need just a bit more coaxing to really find your peak like this. "It's okay pretty girl," the son of Poseidon coos gently, closely watching your facial expression. he knows you're close.

You swallow thickly, not able to look anywhere else but him. His muscles move with his trusting, making you all dizzy with how much you love him! How good he makes you feel, too. "Perce―" your breath hitches when your walls flutter around nothing. You're so, so close, yet not quite there yet...

"I know, I know." Your little whine makes his hand tighten around your own, has his hips grind harder against your clothes pussy, because he is right there with you!

When his hand comes down to press and rub over the fabric of where your sweet clit is hidden underneath, is when you find yourself finally falling apart...

[anyaa2s]

― ༘ ⋆ matt loves hearing your pretty sounds

"Nah, baby, don't be shy," Matt purrs softly, his hands gripping on your waist possessively as he pulls you back onto him with each thrust. "Lemme' hear those sweet sounds, hm?"

Your face is pressed into the mattres as he pounds into you from behind, your screams muffled by the pillow but still audible enough to vibrate through the bed. You swear his brothers can hear you no matter what. And in fact, you were being pretty loud — your stifled cries, his grunts, the headboard banging against the wall. Just not loud enough for him.

"Are you so cock dumb ya' can't even hear what I said?" he taunts, one hand tangling in your hair and yanking your head back roughly, a chocked gasp leaving your lips from the sudden sting in your scalp. It just hurts so good.

"Oh my— mmph," you breath out, trying your best to keep the desperate whimpers building in your throat from escaping by sinking your teeth into your lower lip, and Matt smirks when he hears your struggle.

"Want to hear your pretty moans. Can you do that f'me?" his sweet tone mocks you, teasing as you fight to keep quiet, a sharp breath being pushed out between your gritted teeth at one particularly deep thrust. Bending over your back, he mutters huskily in your ear, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin below it like he can't have enough of you, "Hm? Aren't you gonna listen to me, ma?"

"I— i can't," you attempt to murmur, unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone words, as his touches consume you.

For a split second, you feel emptyness, as he suddenly pulls out to the tip before he slams back in even harder, pushing a loud, pornographic moan from your throat — all the sounds you've been desperately holding back escaping in one overwhelming burst.

The sound of skin slapping is a mere whisper compared to the devlish sounds that leave your lips as you give in. Matt's relentless thrusts hit your g-spot over and over again, his entire length filling you to the brim with each rough plunge — there's no way you're holding back now. You can't even worry about how loud you're being, your mind too haze from the unreal pleasure of his hips rolling in yours.

You were a complete wreck, and he couldn't love it more.

"Fuck, baby, you takin' me so well," he groans, each moan you release consuming his thoughts. It's as if your whimpers and gasps fuel him, pushing him to go deeper, harder, like he can barely control himself from wanting more — at least not with you moaning like that.

"I— shit, I'm—" you cry out, your legs trembling and your stomach coiling. His brutal pace is overwhelming, making you're head spin, blank of any thoughts. The only sounds coming from your parted mouth being babbles and messy, uncontrollable whines by every thrust of his hips into yours.

Matt chuckles behind you, noticing how your last resort is to cover your lips with your palm, hoping it will muffle the noises he's so eager to push out. "Don't try to be quiet now, doll," he teases, knowing damn well his brothers could definitely hear you.

You let a chocked whimper out as he pulls you against his chest, the tension within you begging to snap at how deep the new position feels. Bending your head back against his shoulder, your lips press at his neck, your moans echoing straight his ear — the most perfect angle he could ask for.

"You sound so pretty— fuckk, clenching me so tight," he groans appreciatively, his eyes fluttering close as he focuses on every breath and whine you make. He savors your sounds like a drug he can't have enough off.

"Yeah, just like that—" he murmurs to himself, almost lost in his own pleasure, "Let me hear you fall apart for me."

Your high hits you like a tidal wave — legs trembling, mouth parted in ecstasy, and a hoarse, gutural moan of 'Matt' tearing from your lips like a prayer, his eyes burning dark at the drawn-out sound.

Grunting, his pace doesn't falter as you start to come down from your release — in fact, it only increases. Overstimulation crashes over you as he continues to fuck you senseless, gasping raggedly, a little too close to his ear for him to even consider pulling back. "It's too— Matt! fuck, too much—"

"You can handle one more, can't you, baby? Need to— to hear you moan my name like that again," his husky words halter yours with need, his relentless rhythm making it clear he has no intentions of slowing down anytime soon.

You can't do anything but fucking take it. Loud moans spilling from your lips just like he wants it, knowing full well that he could keep going all night just to hear your pretty sounds.

nya's notes: I took too long to finish this and now I'm horny for matt yayy

🪧 taglist: @shadowthesim237 @chrepsi @courta13 @blushsturns

[astrocafecoffee]

Mars observation ❤️‍🔥

* FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY, ENJOY*

( nevermind i am a TWD fan 💀)

🔥Mars in Capricorn tends to be so serious about their goals that they can come off as a little work-obsessed, but what most people don’t realize is that they have a soft spot for organizing little surprises for the people they care about. Whether it’s a secret birthday party or planning a perfectly timed gift, they’ll go to great lengths to ensure everything goes smoothly and they’ll do it with military-like precision. They love being the quiet mastermind behind the scenes, and the joy of seeing someone’s reaction is their reward.

🔥Instead of the traditional, action packed Mars energy, Mars in Pisces will often take a dream driven approach to goals. They might “daydream” their way through challenges, letting their imagination be the guide. They’ll spend a lot of time visualizing what they want, sometimes way too much and this often leads them to unexpected, highly creative solutions. If you're ever stuck on something, they’re probably the person who will suggest a completely off-the-wall idea that turns out to be genius in a roundabout way!

🔥Mars in Virgo’s love of efficiency and perfectionism can make them amazing cooks (even if they don't always admit it). They might not go for extravagant recipes, but give them a few ingredients, and they’ll whip up something incredibly delicious and perfectly balanced. They’ll even have a system for how to chop vegetables just right. It’s like a cooking ritual for them every step is part of the process. And they’ll never follow a recipe without tweaking it to make it just a little more efficient.

🔥Mars in Scorpio is famous for their ability to keep secrets not just their own, but others as well. They have a natural talent for holding on to information, and they’re not the type to spill the beans unless it serves a higher purpose. This ability to stay quiet even when they know things is both enchanting and slightly mysterious. But sometimes, they might hold on to information a bit too tightly, keeping their own emotions and thoughts hidden to the point where it can be a bit... overwhelming for others to navigate.

🔥Mars in Libra is gentle, polite, and often hesitant to create waves, but once they’ve decided to defend someone they care about, their protective side comes out in full force. They’ll step in without hesitation, but they’ll do it with such grace and subtlety that it won’t even look like they’re “defending” anyone at all. It’s like watching a charming diplomat put their foot down without ever raising their voice. You’ll only realize how strong their loyalty is when the situation is already over, and you’re left in awe of how they handled it.

🔥Mars in Aries has a strong sense of personal initiative, and they love jumping in to help other especially when they feel their “help” is needed. But,they often step in without being asked, sometimes even when it’s not necessary. They’ll see a person struggling with something and swoop in to save the day, even if that person had everything under control. It’s like the classic “I’ve got this” attitude...

🔥Mars in Taurus doesn’t like being pushed or rushed into making decisions or taking action. If you try to hurry them up, they will likely dig in their heels. But If someone tells them they can’t do something or that they’re taking too long, Mars in Taurus will often react by going into overdrive to prove the naysayer wrong. It’s like they didn’t want to be rushed, but now that you’ve challenged them, they’re going to do it perfectly and on their own time. It’s not about speed ,it’s about showing they can do it right.

🔥Mars in Leo is all about action, but sometimes beneath all that bold confidence is a soft, sentimental side. They may not always show it, but they do care deeply about the people and things they love. They’ll take pride in making memories, creating meaningful traditions, and doing grand gestures for those they care about. It might not always be obvious, but they have a way of expressing love through actions that can melt your heart.

🔥Mars in Gemini doesn’t usually want to feel too tied down or dependent, even in close relationships. While they enjoy companionship and conversations, they often need their independence and space to explore other ideas or activities. This doesn’t mean they aren’t invested, it just means their expression of affection may be more cerebral and less physical or emotional.

🔥People often misunderstand Mars in Cancer as fragile or overly sensitive, but in truth, their emotional depth gives them lasting resilience. They know how to protect themselves emotionally and are often much more psychologically tough than they appear. They may retreat into their shells to recharge, but they bounce back with an inner strength that is built on emotional wisdom and a deep understanding of what it means to nurture and care for others.

🔥Mars in Sagittarius has a natural skepticism about traditional authority and systems, and they may challenge ideas that feel too rigid or dogmatic. This can sometimes make them seem rebellious or contrary, as they want to explore ideas and beliefs outside the mainstream. While they are driven by a quest for truth, they can often appear dismissive of conventional wisdom, favoring instead a more personal, adventurous approach to discovering what works for them.

🔥Mars in Aquarius often comes across as cool, aloof, or even emotionally detached, but this doesn’t mean they lack deep feelings. Instead, their emotional depths are often hidden beneath their rational, progressive exterior. They feel deeply for social issues, injustices, and global problems, but they may not express these feelings in a conventional emotional way.

🔥 Mars in 1°/13°/ 25° people might find themselves competing with authority figures rather than working alongside them. They don’t like being told what to do and can have a hard time submitting to control.

🔥 Mars in 2°/ 14°/ 26° people might not make a lot of noise about their intentions, but their actions speak louder than words. They influence people not by being outspoken, but through their reliability, consistency, and practicality.

🔥 Mars in 3°/15°/ 27° people can be incredibly sharp-tongued or enjoy debating especially when they know they can outwit someone. They don’t need to raise their voice or make physical moves to assert dominance. Their words and ideas are their primary weapons, and they can often win a battle simply by being the most articulate or quick-witted in the room.

🔥 Mars in 4°/16°/28° people often avoids direct confrontation. They might be more comfortable retreating into their shell or expressing their frustrations through passive means rather than engaging in a full-blown argument.

🔥 Mars in 5°/17°/29° people often seek validation and admiration, they often push themselves to be the best at what they do, which can lead them to overwork or overexert themselves in their pursuits. If their output does not meet their high standards, they may feel disappointed or frustrated, even if others don’t see the imperfections.

🔥 Mars in 6°/ 18° people excels in roles that involve mentorship or coaching. Their ability to break down complex tasks into manageable steps and their focus on efficiency makes them great at guiding others toward success. They may not be the loudest voice in the room, but their leadership comes through their quiet, behind the scenes contributions that ensure everything runs smoothly.

🔥 Mars in 7°/19° people deep fear of disharmony or discord in relationships. This can sometimes lead them to avoid direct confrontation or suppress their own needs to keep the peace. Bro don't do it, just communicate otherwise you will feel burnt out at some point.

🔥 Mars in 8°/ 20° people may struggle with vulnerability. They are often fearful of exposing their true selves to others, and instead, they prefer to remain in a position of power and control. They only reveal certain parts of themselves to a select few.

🔥 Mars in 9°/21° people often has a constant feeling of restlessness, which can lead them to never feel truly satisfied with where they are. They are often driven by the idea that there is always more to discover, both in the world and in themselves. This can create a sense of unsettledness, even when things are going well in their lives, as they crave new experiences and growth opportunities.

🔥 Mars in 10°/ 22° people dislike waste, especially when it comes to their time and resources. Mars in Capricorn individuals are extremely efficient, preferring to channel their energy only into pursuits that have long-term value. This is why they are often great at building sustainable and lasting success.

🔥 Mars in 11°/23° people tends to reject routine, as their focus is always on new possibilities and big ideas. They can become irritated or disengaged by repetitive or mundane tasks. If they find themselves stuck in a routine, they may feel a lack of motivation or creativity, and may even sabotage their own efforts to avoid falling into boredom.

🔥when Mars in 12°/ 24° people feel emotionally invested in a cause or a person, they may find it hard to draw clear lines between their personal energy and the other person’s needs. This blurring of boundaries can lead to emotional overwhelm, especially if their drive and energy are used for causes that don’t allow for personal fulfillment or rest.

Thanks for reading.....

- PIKO 💖

[i-like-loserz]

Sorry for asking but do you do twt links?

yes i do — and it's for sub!san 🤭

i call this one: failed cockwarming

cw: smut (18+), nsfw link, sub!san, praise kink, edging, overstimulation, m!squirting, cockwarming (obvi), piv + unprotected

note: there's nothing i love more than a whiny, desperate man, completely lost for the touch of his partner...(did not mean to make this 1k words lol) -- also WHAT A CUTIE

NSFW LINK AND DESCRIPTION UNDER THE CUT

there's been one thing you've wanted to try with your boyfriend for a while now: cockwarming.

you've been building him up to it, knowing how desperate he gets once he's inside of you. how do you expect him to be a good patient boy while you're sitting on his cock if you don't train him?

it started with a series of edging sessions. you make him sit on the couch or against the headboard of the bed and slowly stroke him, refusing to speed up or hold him firmer. your fingers glide over the blushing silk-like skin, drawing shutters and moans from his perfect lips. he begs you sweetly, eyes already shiny with desperation, but you refuse to give in. it's for his own good, you tell yourself.

every time he tries to buck his hips against your hold, you use your other hand to hold him down, scolding him lightly for being so greedy. after bringing him to the edge a few times, he's shaking under you, cock hard and throbbing for relief. his eyes are red and wet from frustrated tears, his lips are shiny and plump from all the lip bitting, and there's a cute blush that's spread over his pretty face.

when you finally let him cum, his eyes roll to the back of his head and his flushed chest heaves beautifully from the intensity of his climax. he cums so much.

it spills over your fingers and trails down your wrist, making a mess of his lap. he whimpers desperately as you continue to stroke him. he tries to back away from the overwhelming painful pleasure of being overstimulated, but you keep pinned in his spot, interested to see how much he can handle.

he ends up having his first squirting experience, completely soaking everything around him -- including you.

"i-i'm sorry, i didn't mean to--" he's embarrassed, pouting with a blush as he stares at the soaked sheets under him. you drag your thumb over his thigh comfortingly and can't help but admire the way he shudders just from the faint touch.

"you did so good for me, sannie. you looked so pretty squirting for me like that~" the praise immediately calms him down, happy to please you and that you're not mad about the mess (but then again, you never are).

you thought this practiced restraint would help san acclimate to cockwarming. it's not like you're moving against him or anything. it's all about enjoy each other's company and the feeling of being connected. apparently there's a very big difference between your fist and your pussy.

it started off promising. you approached san with your idea:

"sannie..." you're playing with his hair delicately as he rests his head on your lap. it's a routine bonding moment that san regularly begs for. it makes him feel doted on and secure, and it usually leads to him falling asleep at the end.

he opens his eyes gently, already bleary with an adorable sleepy expression.

"mhm?"

"i was thinking..." you hum, massaging his scalp as you speak, "there's this thing that apparently brings couples closer together. it's supposed to be very comforting and intimate."

you swear, if he were a cat his ears would've been perked up at the mere mention of 'being closer' -- as if you could be any closer to each other. you practically spend every minute together.

he turns his head so he's looking at you more directly, "what is it?"

---

it's only been a few minutes and he's already whining under you. you feel so full and warm, perfectly draped over his body as he stuffs you to the brim. if it weren't for his desperate whines and the way he's throbbing inside of you, you swear you could fall asleep like this.

you've been trying to placate him with small kisses along his face and neck -- but it's only making it worse.

"it's okay, sannie, just relax." you coo, "don't think about it, i'm right here, baby..."

he whimpers softly, "i-i can't, it's -- mmph..."

he holds onto your waist firmly, trying to hold back. you can't help the way your body reacts when he squeezes you tightly with his large hands, the pressure feels amazing. you unconsciously clench around him, causing him to buck his hips against yours unsteadily with a choked out moan.

"f-fuck...sorry, baby, i didn't mean to do that~" you whisper against the heated skin of his neck. you press lazy kisses against him, already half-delirious from that scant bit of movement. "just stay here with me..."

your hands move to ghost over his chest, one of your favorite parts of his body. he's surprisingly sensitive there, gasping whenever you flick over his nipples or grope his pecs. you know you shouldn't, but you can't help the way your fingers circle around his pretty blush buds. he shivers from the contact and shallowly thrusts into you again.

"s-stop, it's too much." he lets go of your waist to grab your wrists, forcing your hands away from his chest. with misty eyes, he looks up at you, "i'm trying to be good, but i'm gonna cum if you keep doing that."

he looks fucking edible like this.

fuck it.

you take advantage of the weak hold around your wrists and push both of your arms to the top of the mattress. he looks lost as you pin him to the bed, weary eyes anticipating your next move.

"i was trying to do something new with you, but you just can't help it can you?" you tease, "so sensitive that you'll do anything to cum, hm?"

it's almost like he can't hear you, reeling from the teasing words that drip from your enticing lips.

you squeeze him within you again. that gets his attention.

"anything" he pants eagerly.

"fuck me, baby."

[your-internet-bf]

I have a bad habit of looking at other people's phones in public. Someday, I think I'll look at a cute girl's screen and see the sorta shit I like - bondage, rape, deep, strong fucking. You'd scroll past as quick as you can, of course, since it's embarrassing to be caught looking at that in public... But I'd know.

It's not hard to follow people, especially in a city. Nobody expects to be followed; you'd never even notice. Maybe you catch a glimpse of me through the corner of your eye, but it's just a coincidence that I've been behind you the past eight blocks, right? Right?

I've been camping outside your place, watching through the window. It wasn't hard, and you haven't noticed anything more than a shadow. But it's dark out now, and very late, and I climb up to your window to get a better view.

I see you reclined in your bed, rubbing and pounding as hard as you can, your brow furrowed and your lips open in a silent moan as you try to hide your, what, fourth orgasm of the night? I watch, every inch of my cock throbbing, aching, waiting for my turn.

You turn off your phone, close your eyes, and you - raw, red, exhausted you - try to sleep. I wait a few minutes just to be sure, feeling myself over my clothes, before trying your window. It's a rush when I find it unlocked - you are EXACTLY the kind of girl I thought you were. Silently, the window slides open, and I follow the cool night air into your bedroom.

You're prettier up close. I've been studying you for hours now, of course, but I hadn't noticed just how soft your skin was, or how smooth your curves... I pull down your covers, revealing that you didn't bother to put anything on after you came. Your slick, abused cunt is so inviting; every cell in my body is screaming at me to tear you open with my cock, to ruin you, to pound your cervix up into your tummy, but there's something I need to do first...

I take a quick moment to undress, quietly, the soft clink of my belt buckle being the only sound other than our breathing, already starting to mix in the darkness. Then all at once I pounce, pushing you onto your front, gripping your waist from behind, and ramming my cock dry into your ass.

It hurts. I want it to hurt.

You're scared. I want you to be scared.

Maybe you've been with a guy before, maybe you haven't, maybe you have a boyfriend, or girlfriend, or spouse right now; it doesn't matter to me. With my size, every hole feels tight, especially a victim.

I feel you writhe beneath me, trying to get away, but I won't let you. I take one of my hands off your waist and, balling up your hair in one fist, wrench your head back.

"You," I whisper, my breath hot on your cheek, "aren't going anywhere, pretty girl."

I push your face down into your bed and keep going, pounding, breaking, raping your ass. You feel my breath on you, my sweat on you, the smell of me overwhelming even as I'm intoxicated by yours. I yank your head back up and take a deep breath in at the back of your neck, moaning as I breathe out. As I pause, you raise your hips into me, whimpering, and I know you need me to keep going.

Because you need it, don't you? You need a big, strong man, smelling like sweat and power, to rape you, don't you? To completely make you mine, to turn you into a sobbing, soaking mess, to mold you around my filthy, throbbing cock. Say it now, say that you need it, that you're a needy slut, say it out loud...

So I continue. Taking the other hand back to your waist, I redouble my work, straining inside you. I reach down to slap your soaking pussy and rub your wetness on me, and keep going. In and out, in and out, in and out, my girth spreading your ass so wide, so painfully, you can barely think. But I know you need it, and I'm so close now.

My breath comes faster, catching in my throat, and you feel a hard thrust, then another, another, another, and finally, I ram into you so hard we both collapse into your bed... And you feel the thick, white cum shoot into you. Warm, heavy, sticky, it fills your insides as my cock pulses thick and strong inside you, my breath warm on your neck as I force you to cockwarm me.

I kiss your soft, pretty skin as you sob into your pillow. I grind into you as I do, and my cum leaks out, a slow stream rolling down from your ruined ass towards that gaping, aching cunt. After a minute, I pull out, and push you onto your back. You get a brief glimpse at my face through the tears - long, long eyelashes framing deep gray eyes - before I steal a kiss. Your tears make it salty, and you feel me smile, pressed up against your lips.

"You needed it, didn't you?" I ask, still grinning.

Weakly, you nod. "Mhmm..." You draw in another shaky breath.

"Good, good girl." I lean back and reach for my cock - I'm still hard. I still need you.

You know what you are now. You'd suspected it before, but now you know what you are, what you need, and so do I. You spread your legs for me, this time willingly, begging me to come make you mine...

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

first fall of snow

how spencer guesses you're pregnant before you actually tell him

fluff word count: 1390 warnings & tags & stuff: pregnant reader, slight issues with mother mentioned?, non-graphic vomiting, mentions/allusions to winter holidays being celebrated, kinda spencer's pov but still 2nd pov, reader is scared spencer will leave her lol, anxious!reader in general, mentions of death?, probably medical inaccuracies ive never been pregnant author's note: hiiii i'm forcing myself to post this because if i don't then i'll never post and i'm being BRAVE. i hope it can be a little comforting maybe. i've realllyyyy been struggling with my take on spencer's characterization lately soo this was kinda like a bootcamp/exercise situation into his mind and less an expression of my writing skills, iykwim. let me know your thoughts if u have any! i love you & have a splendid day!!

Spencer is walking—speed walking—toward his car, away from the case he just finished, away from serial killers and guns and geographical profiling and death.

He places his feet carefully on the snow-covered sidewalk with each step, the cold air biting at his face. He barely notices it, absorbed in the path ahead, as the snow provides a satisfying crunch underfoot—a nice background to his perpetually racing mind.

He doesn’t like the winter. It’s always too harsh outdoors, and too stuffy indoors, and he’s trapped in a suffocating haze no matter where he goes. 

His phone starts to vibrate gently in his pocket, interrupting his racing thoughts for a split second. His pace falters as he pulls it free, a quick smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he sees it’s your name on the screen.

“Hi. How are you?” he asks after picking up, watching his breath come out in puffs of vapor in the cold air.

Winters, however, have gotten progressively better each year he spends with you.

“...I’m okay,” you say, though the crack in your voice reveals the all-consuming ache in your bones and mind.

“No. You’re overwhelmed,” he guesses in his matter-of-fact way, voice gentle. You huff out a soft laugh at his ability to read you, never getting old.

“Yeah, I guess. A little. The holiday season, you know. Are you on your way home?” you ask, voice softer now. You’re sitting on the couch of yours and Spencer’s cozy apartment, wrestling with a blanket to cover your lap, and bouncing your leg relentlessly.

“I’m walking to the car now. Hey, have you done the crossword today?” Spencer asks, words a familiar, tender remedy for your nerves. You told him a long time ago that hearing his voice makes you feel better, and there are times, like these, where he just knows it’s what you need. You rest our head on the arm of the couch, curling up.

“No, I didn’t have the time. Why?”

“There was an interesting question about causes of death in Shakespeare plays, but they completely messed up the part of speech. It read, ‘Popular ways to die by the hands of England’s national poet’. I thought it was ‘poisons’ at first, but it was actually ‘stabbed’, even though the correct answer grammatically should’ve been ‘stabs’ or ‘stabbings’,” he says, his car now in sight through the steady sprinkle of snow coming down. “Do you think I should send an email to let them know? I guess stabbing does make more sense, though, versus poison, because throughout his works, thirty characters out of his 74 that died were stabbed compared to only four that were poisoned. Three were stabbed and poisoned. Did you know that two were actually baked into pies, which is a-”

“Oh my god, the pie,” you groan, cutting him off mid-sentence, sitting up hastily, the blanket falling to the floor.

“Pie?”

“Yeah. My mom coerced me into making it to bring tomorrow.” You pad over to the kitchen and crouch down to peek through the hazy glass of the oven, inspecting it. “Oh,” you murmur. “It’s…not pretty.”

He sandwiches the phone in between his ear and shoulder, gently opening the door to his car to sit down as he listens to you. He turns the heat on, exhaling in an exhausted relief, hovering his hand over where the air comes out. 

“Can you tell me what it looks like? Maybe I can help,” he suggests, leaning back against the headrest and letting his eyes close for a second. You put the phone on speaker, setting it on the counter as you bend down to take it out. “Don’t burn yourself,” he adds, hearing what you’re doing.

“I’m not going to burn my-” you cut yourself off with a huff. “Whatever. It’s just really messy. There’s like… liquid overflowing where the lattice should be.”

He hums. “How long has it been cooking for?”

“45 minutes. My mom sent me this one ancient recipe that I had to use written on parchment paper from like 70 years ago, and it does not have a bake time listed, so I’m just eyeballing it.”

“Okay. You could either put it back in the oven in hopes that more of the liquid will evaporate, or you can leave it out to cool down and hopefully thicken,” he says.

“What do you think I should do?”

“I think you sound exhausted and need your sleep.” 

You sigh, staring at your mess of a pie, hopes that you’ll appease your mother this year slipping further and further away, soon to be completely buried by the snow.

“Hey. I’m sure it’ll taste really good. Besides, people still liked Shakespeare, and he wrote about much worse pies than you could ever make.” 

A smile pulls at your lips.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll just leave it out to cool and head to bed. Will you stay on the phone a little longer?” you ask, padding over to your shared bedroom.

“Of course.”

He doesn’t start driving as you talk, not when nearly 2000 people die per year due to driving on icy roads, and two thirds of them were people who were reported to not be paying close enough attention.

And especially not when 54 hours ago on your last phone call, he noticed a drastic shift in your behavior, and was quickly able to tell that you were pregnant. 

He had too much waiting for him at home to be spinning out on black ice because he was talking to you and not watching the road.

He chooses instead to look outside at the falling snow, blanketing the city, his city, the very first for D.C. to have this winter out of the septillion snowflakes planet earth receives each year.

…

Spencer gets home a little later that night, holding another pint of cherries in his hands. Not for the pie—which he turns to see resting on the stove and winces slightly at—but for you. 

Cherries, with their 342 mg of potassium per cup, help replenish lost electrolytes and can soothe nausea.

He’s expecting it to start any day now.

He quietly steps into the bedroom, setting his bag by the door to be dealt with tomorrow. The soft glow of the lamp that was left on, presumably for him by your endlessly considerate heart, provides just enough light so he can get changed. He then finally clambers into bed next to you, one hand reaching out to lace in your hair, moving his fingers to gently scratch by the nape of your neck. He lifts the other to rest, like you're made of a delicate china, on your lower stomach, sighing in pure relief the second it makes contact.

You turn sleepily, humming when you’re met with the sight of him. “Spence,” you murmur, contented.

“Hi. I really didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m sorry,” he says, so quietly.

“I'm glad you did. I like it when you wake me.” You tuck yourself closer to him. “I love you.” His hand comes to trace gentle patterns all over your back and arm, and he gives you a little kiss, adoringly.

“Go back to sleep. I love you.”

You let your eyes shut once again, this time much easier now that he’s with you. You inhale his scent, which you swear could repair anything broken or lost in this world. You exhale, wondering if he’d still hold you the same way after learning that you’re carrying his child. 

It’s a scary thought, but you’re comforted by his warm touch, pushing you farther out into the deep sea of sleep.

Once your breaths get steady and your mouth parts slightly, he adds, in a whisper, “Both.”

…

The next morning, when you’re hunched over the toilet bowl, Spencer is there with you, rubbing your back and wiping your teary eyes. You look up to him after brushing your teeth, and no words are exchanged. He tugs you into his arms, silently quelling any of the countless anxieties swarming your mind, at least in this moment.

His hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He lets it rest there, cupping your jaw.

“Let’s go shopping after breakfast today, okay? You need prenatal vitamins.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“And a new pie.”

[asce-of-hearts]

Guardian Angel!Sunday who is completely obsessed with you, his protege.

Guardian Angel!Sunday who's presence is so overwhelming that you and everyone around you feel the weight on your shoulders. He won't stop with it, even with your complaints of constant migraines due to his actions.

Guardian Angel!Sunday who knows he can only interfere to a certain extent on human affairs, but doesn't care. He isn't discrete. That woman who looked at you wrong while on the street? The next day she has caught an incurable disease. His duty to protect you comes before anything else, even rules.

Guardian Angel!Sunday who ends up causing you to isolate because every time you come across someone bad things happen. He does bad things.

Guardian Angel!Sunday who looks like a looming shadow in the edge of your bed, standing menacingly and watching you with a cold gaze. Smirking when you tremble in your sleep as he tucks away a couple of loose strands of hair falling over your face.

Guardian Angel!Sunday who becomes an inescapable part of your life.

Guardian Angel!Sunday who is in control of what you do, how you do it, where you do it. Who uses his power and influence to ensure you're not able to escape his clutches.

Guardian Angel!Sunday who prevents any harm from happening to you. You don't know how, but your body hasn't touched the floor when you trip over nothing, your head hasn't hit the kitchen counter when you're cooking absentmindedly.

Guardian Angel!Sunday who's obsession causes him to change. His body and soul change.

Guardian Angel!Sunday who hears you scream once you see him. And who's shadow towers over your body as he gets closer. A clawed hand cupping your jaw, a pointy end tail that wraps around your waist. Horns over his head. And a forked tongue that creeps out of his mouth when he smiles at finally being able to touch.

sunday masterpost

tag list

a/n: this post is a mess and just me rambling :BBB