#excerpts are hard and impossible

[spareham]

a phoenix & doves | gemma x devon | E | 16k | ♫ listen-along ♫ | pt. 2 | pt.3

Gemma pushed her hands down over her own hips where the fabric hugged them, thanks to the clips at her back, hidden from her view. She'd be lying if she said she'd never dreamed of becoming a bride… just never this kind. So white. Red-less. Her fingers trailed over her stomach, picking at the border, the hem. She couldn’t ride a horse in this. She chuckled to herself, instead.

[howifeltabouthim]

'Everything seems to be getting worse. Or else I'm getting intolerably old and finicky.'

Iris Murdoch, from A Fairly Honourable Defeat

[koushuwu]

*:･ﾟ✧ SILENT POEM

content (warnings): not suitable for minors, his dialog directly transcribed from the english memory banner, afab!reader, penetrative sex, reverse scoop, emotional sex, lots of kissing, dubcon (if you squint), playful lovemaking, no editing we die like men.

『•• zayne | words: 1,9k | LaDS masterlist ••』

excerpt: he kissed your neck. once. twice. then, he let out a shuddered breath, and whispered as if in a plea. “say my name.”

“rest in my embrace,” he said. and who were you to say no, really? zayne’s arm draped around your middle and pulled you impossibly closer as you lay there with your back firmly pressed against the hard planes of his chest. his abdomen. his warm skin. “just like this.” you pushed closer, adjusted in his arms and barely stifled a giggle when he inhaled sharply.

you’d been coaxing him for a while. ever since he came back from his late shift at the hospital. since the moment you’d offered to help him relax, he’d known exactly what your objective was, but he wasn’t one to deter your plans, so he’d played along. he’d let you massage his sore muscles when you playfully skirted around the true objective of your advances. he’d played along perched you on his lap as you did, wordlessly showing you that your efforts bore fruit. he played along for it all. mostly. he hadn’t been entirely able to help himself when you spilled that water on yourself earlier. he watched the droplets trickle down your neck and no force of nature could have stopped him from diving in. you skin had been warm under his tongue. nothing short of intoxicating, really.

“now–” he said, lips caressing your neck in a scorching kiss, his fingers gently caressing your skin as they moved south. “let me tell you–” he kissed your neck once more, the taste of your skin addicting to him. the breath you sucked in as he did. the heat dusting your features. instinctively, he angled your leg to give himself better access. wordlessly zayne encouraged you to hold still, just like that, when his length pressed against you. “how much i missed you when we couldn’t see each other.” his lips connected with that very spot where your neck meets your shoulder, when he knew you’d hold your leg up for him. the sheets rustled as he positioned himself better and pushed.

your breathing hitched as the tip pressed inside, and you tensed. he grabbed hold of your thigh once more and propped himself up on his elbow. zayne loomed above you, those intense eyes searching your face. your eyes screwed shut, mouth slack was truly a sight for him to behold. something he wished to commit to memory. something for him to cherish. and he did. he really did. even as your entrance clamped down so hard on his cock he could hardly move. maybe he hadn’t prepared you properly. you always did say he was too big for his own good. he should’ve– but it was too late to go back now. he leaned down.

“relax,” he said. hushed. his breath fanned against your ear as he spoke. his lips pressed against your skin. like that, zayne breathed you in, and how did he even expect you to relax like this? with his warm bare skin against yours, his breath against your ear and your neck. with the way his presence loomed behind you. all around you. inside you. how were you supposed to relax? you tried though. you always tried for him. zayne rolled his hips to thrust in a little further. 

“shit–” you couldn’t help but lurch forward in his hold.

“i’m sorry.” zayne’s movements stilled, if only for a moment. he studied you. “i didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said. but he knew you. he knew what that face meant. he rolled his hips again, pushing in further. slowly. ever so slowly. your eyes were shining as you turned your face to look up at him.

“zayne–” his name barely more than a whimper, but he nodded anyway. he heard you. he had you. whatever you may need. “kiss me.” the restraints on his self control shuddered at your words. they were so soft. almost like a plea on your lips and he wanted nothing else than to give you what you asked. so he did. his lips pressed against your, and his breath caught in his throat as he yanked the reins hard do keep himself in check. he wanted was going to go slow. he was going to make this last, even if it took every single ounce of his strength.

“does it still hurt?” without hesitation, zayne moved his hand to your hip and pulled, shifting you towards him. angling you to give himself even easier access, zayne slowly, oh so slowly slowly rolled his hips to finally slip in fully, sucking in a breath at your snug warmth welcoming him home. “what about this?” he asked and kissed your lips again. “do you feel better now?” he swallowed your answer before you had the chance to even open your mouth.

playfully, as if to shut him up, as if to ensure him it didn’t hurt, you nibbed at his bottom lip. zayne was big, but you’d known what you wanted and you hadn’t exactly been unprepared yourself, even before he came back. but it was zayne and his mere presence alone was enough to make you shudder. despite coming off as cold, zayne was an intense man, and when he let go, and when he let himself indulge in you. it was overwhelming to say the least. overwhelming, but so good. you shuddered when he whispered into your ear again.

“or… do you want to change positions?” you pressed back against him, squawking when his length pressed deeper. he was almost fully sheathed inside you, yet he kept going so slow. it was hard to think.

“can you—“ you start, voice carrying a tinge of frustration, yet still hushed as if you couldn’t quite bring yourself to disrupt the quiet of the room. “just do it. stop asking all these questions!”

“what do you mean… just do it and stop asking questions?” as he spoke, zayne let his fingers trail softly down your side, leaving a flood of tingles in their wake. your skin felt alive. he watched the way goosebumps rose on your skin. you were perfect. nothing short of. you his home. his safe space. you were his. “didn’t you ask me how much i missed you?” as if to punctuate his sentiment, he pulled back, planting his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. the way your pussy clamped down on his cock had him pulling in a sharp breath before burying himself fully inside you. you felt perfect. entirely and utterly perfect as you squeezed him and wriggled against him. the sounds threatening to spill all swallowed by his lips. his tongue as it ran across your lower lip.

as he broke the kiss, you reached behind you and pulled him back by the neck. you weren’t done. but instead of pressing his lips to yours once more, he instead leaned his forehead against yours, eyes locked on yours. there was a little smile there. a sincere, loving one, that made his eyes sparkle, as he looked at you. one that almost covered up the little glimmer of mirth in his eye as zayne still didn’t kiss you. instead, he settled into an excruciatingly slow pace, as he deliberately pushed in as deep as he possible could, with every single thrust. his fingers lightly caressed your hip as he spoke against your lips.

“so much time has passed, no? don’t you want me to say something?” the little smile on his lips morphed to dorn a teasing lilt as he spoke. barely there, yet you saw it clearly. with his fingers grazing your skin, he let them dip down to your front. your eyes fell shut when the pads of his fingers firmly circled your clit. once. twice. then slipped even further between your legs. with two long fingers, he spread your folds on either side of his cock, spreading you even further open for him, earning him an entirely unrestrained and revaborating moan in return.

teeth clamped together when you quickly shut your mouth. you hadn’t meant to be so loud. you weren’t ashamed. you were surprised more than anything, swiftly facing away from him. pressing against the pillow, your breathing became even heavier at the sensation if zayne’s fingers aiding his movements against you. inside you. he gave a barely audible chuckle and leaned into your ear to whisper.

“tired already?” you press further against him, burying your face further into the bed, his teasing not going unnoticed. “you want to sleep?” he asked and you nodded. you weren’t actually tired. you didn’t actually want to sleep. you both knew that. but if he was going to tease you, then you might as well play along.

when zayne’s breath fanned against the shell of your ear, you shuddered. your skin felt scorched as he pulled you impossibly closer, fingers slipping through your folds as the tip of his cock kissed that spot within you that had your cunt fluttering around him.

“we’re not done here,” he said, your own ragged breathing caught in your throat, teeth now sinking into your bottom lip at his words. zayne was many things, and while a tease wasn’t the word most people would use to describe him, you knew better than most. even with his voice steady, only betrayed by his heavy breathing, his taunts were clear as day to you. and maybe, just maybe you did kind of like that about him. not that you would ever tell him that of course. especially not like this. “quitting halfway isn’t something i would do.”

“let me teach you how to do it then,” you bit out, straining to keep your voice as steady as his, as you looked back up at him and rocked back against his cock, forcing his thrusts to meet with yours. with a hiss, he caught hold of your hip, halting your movements. your attempts at speeding up his pace. not yet. not yet. zayne heaved a heavy breath, then brushed his nose against yours.

“the night is still young. we have plenty of time to learn from each other.” you really couldn’t help but smile at him as you reached up to cup his cheek. he nuzzled against your touch, something that only made your smile grow.

now.

zayne thrust deep into your warmth, finally picking up his pace like you’d wished for him to do. brushing against that special spot within you. as he thrust inside, he caught your lips with his own, swallowing your sounds before they escaped.

“let me hear your voice,” he said, kissing you again. you pinched his cheek, making him draw back. you had half a mind to think he was being a fool for expecting you to let him hear anything while he was kissing you like that. but any semblance of the notion vanished as he picked up his pace further. the wet sounds of his cock thrusting into your cunt. of skin slapping against skin. it was intoxicating. you couldn’t help but moan at the way he filled you up again and again. zayne’s breath coming in harsh pants as he grew more and more breathless.

“right now. just like this.” zayne snapped his hips rhythmically now guiding your hips towards his as well. he kissed your lips hard, seemingly unbothered by his state of breathlessness. as if all he wanted to do with what little breath he had, was to share it with you. just like he would share anything else with you. everything. you broke away for air and he kissed your neck. once. twice. then, he let out a shuddered breath, and whispered as if in a plea. “say my name.”

“zayne–”

thank you for reading <3

[erosiism]

𝐂𝐎𝐈𝐋 | m!naga x m!human!reader | nsfw

scenario: (m/n) fucks his boyfriend, who happens to be a naga | naga’s name is aruna

contains: breeding kink, mating press, belly bulge, biting (probably more but I'm not thinking straight as I write this (literally), fucking a naga, naga has two dicks

word count: 2k 

author’s note: alas… my dignity fails once more. this was written months back so it isn’t as good as my current writing lol I feel like I’m morphing into a smut blog  | excerpt from swipe right

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE.

First, there was heat. A strong, searing heat. A insatiable desire—

"Fuck," (m/n) hissed sharply, as he felt something hard, something big, press against his groin—"Aruna, you—you—"

How did he even get himself into this situation? Was it the fact that his ex boyfriend had somehow managed to find (m/n) and insert himself into a date that was supposed to belong to them? And (m/n) had later said flippantly to Aruna to shut him up later if he was being annoying, and...

I didn't mean in that manner, (m/n) swallowed. Because now that usual lightheartedness —  that usual dismissal Aruna had to his stupid remarks had morphed into something deeper, darker—dangerous. Aruna had always let whatever comments (m/n) would say roll off his back—(m/n) was very aware that whoever else said those would probably get thrown off a cliff, brutally killed, or...

(m/n) had always been the exception.

And he supposed that it was the same case with the naga's desires. His sexual desires.

"I what?" Aruna fucking smiled, looking down at (m/n) with such an aggravating smug look on his face that (m/n) felt the urge kiss it off—"did you not place a bet, my dear (m/n)?"

"What bet," (m/n) furrowed his brow, "I didn't even—mph!"

His words were cut off when Aruna swallowed his lips up in a hot, steaming kiss, and (m/n) could feel the way the naga's tongue slid into his wet, hot, mouth, explore every inch of it until it even ventured to his throat, making breathing impossible—

(m/n) had to push him away, as he panted for air. He couldn’t see straight as his lungs searched for oxygen, his chest heaving. There was a thin string of saliva between the two of them, obscene, suggestive—Aruna's tongue had pulled at his lip, brushed the top of his own tongue, and had ridden along the ridges of his teeth, stretching at the corner of his mouth.

"You look so, so pretty," Aruna cooed, "don't you think? You look so beautiful, darling."

(m/n) really tried to subdue his raging erection, but coupled with Aruna's own pressing against him, making a few loose moans slip past his mouth...

Yeah. That wasn't going to happen.

"What do you want, (m/n)?" Aruna purred, "tell me. What do you want?"

"I—" (m/n) was a prideful man, but this was what Aruna had reduced him to. A loose, whimpering mess. "I want you to fuck me."

He wrapped his arms around the naga's neck for a deep, prodding kiss, one that tore the oxygen from his lungs, one that sent heat raking up in spine and blush spreading to his ears...

"That can be arranged," Aruna nipped at his lip—they moved against each other like crashing waves, desperate and hungry. (m/n) searched for something. Anything, to stabilize him, to hold him. He tangled his fingers in the silk lengths of black hair, making a soft moan rumble from the naga's chest.

It was so, so good.

And they hadn't even...

"Clothes. Off," Aruna whispered, his tone demanding and his hands hooking up (m/n)'s shirt—"don't tell me you cannot afford to buy more, with my money?"

"Hah, you certainly can—" The retort had not even left (m/n)'s mouth yet before the naga had torn his clothes off. Not even —

"Good to hear," Aruna said breathily, a smirk on his face, "to know you know I don't lack in funds, and that you can use it all up." He tipped (m/n)'s chin up, pressing a few kisses firmly onto his jaw.

Like the calm before the storm. Like Aruna was coaxing him for the sure pleasure and pain that was about to tug at his gut.

(m/n) hissed again when his cock found friction against the naga's thigh, and dug his fingernails deep into the muscle of his arm. He was bare—completely bare. Aruna could see every part of him, could annotate every inch of his human anatomy to his brain.

And the way the naga soaked that sight up, with his gaze, with the way his fingers took his own clothes off to reveal two—

Majestic. Aruna's naga form was majestic. From  the way those scales glittered so well under the light, so ethereal, so beautiful, from his tail, his eyes, his body...

(m/n) whimpered.

Aruna rolled them both over until (m/n) was the one on his back being pinned down.

“Say please," Aruna bent over him. The naga's silky black hair brushed against his chest, dragging along (m/n)'s nipples, breaking whatever composure and pride that the crown (m/n) was desperate to cling on. He didn't care how his voice sounded—needy, broken, already fucked out even when they had yet to start: "please," (m/n) managed to croak out, "please."

It sounded like gravel, it sounded like he was begging. The warmth in his stomach seemed to pulse through his body.

"Your voice is lovely," Aruna crooned, and brought his fingers to (m/n)'s lips. "Suck." His black eyes seemed to sear right through (m/n), and the finger in his mouth pressed down hats to trap his tongue. And so (m/n) did it dutifully, costing the naga's fingers in a thin sheen of saliva, wet and hot. (m/n) let out a choked huff of air, as he felt the fingers explore his mouth, felt those fingers crawling towards his throat, down and down and down...

Aruna pulled it out, looking satisfied. Pressing another gentle kiss onto (m/n)'s collarbone,  more marks were sucked into his skin into a little trail, leading whenever the naga fancied. It moved from the top of his neck, to his collarbone, trailing down to his bare chest. 

More, (m/n) pleaded, more. More. More. More—

Two wet fingers pressed against insistently at his entrance, and (m/n) immediately lifted his hips up with a hiss, relishing at the burn. At the stretch. It promised some level of release for the tension that had built up in his body.

And that damned naga sure took his time opening him up. 

A third finger joined after a period of time, and (m/n) felt the urge to snap at the naga, when the stretch had started to hollow him out.

"Patience, my dear (m/n)." Aruna whispered softly, yet wasn't he a hypocrite? The naga's restraints seemed like it could burst any second now, like it was boiling and simmering over the surface, "did no one teach you that?"

"You...agh!" When (m/n) opened his mouth to retort weakly at him, those fingers crooked inside of him, rubbing right into the spot that took the breath from his lungs all over again. He dug his fingers into the bed coverings and keened—his back arched into Aruna's hands, begging and begging to be fucked.

But that naga...all he did was proceed at a steady pace, before he added a fourth.

The stretch was exquisite, and was delightful. It promised to take some edge of the heat off him, and he let go where his hands were fisted, curled around the blankets to turn his face towards Aruna, tears rolling down his face.

"Please," (m/n) choked out, "please, Aruna. Please, please, please—"

Those four fingers rubbed against his prostate, almost like it was trying to milk his cries. His broken, hoarse moans. 

Fuck. He was panting now.

He almost sobbed when those fingers pulled out of his body. No, no. That wasn't... wait, was it? No. He wanted something more. (m/n) wanted to get fucked by more—the enormous cocks that the naga had—he didn't want to get fucked by four fingers, and yet it seemed like —

Teeth grazed his nipple before it moved up his throat. 

"Aruna," (m/n) said deliriously, "you. I want you..."

A solid hand planted down his back, forcing his chest back into the bed, his teeth dragging along the nape of his neck. Aruna bit. He bit there, his fangs sinking deliciously and deliberately into (m/n)'s flesh, sending a ripple of crimson trickling down. (m/n) let out a gasp, before the pain was slowly forgotten when finally, something hard dragged and slid across him.

The tip of them teased over the sensitive edge of his rim, as Aruna continued to mark him—continued to stake his claim. It was like the naga wanted to make sure that to the rest of the people that (m/n) had matched with, his loyalty didn't lie with them, it lay with him, first and foremost.

(m/n) belonged to him. Aruna belonged to (m/n).

The agonizing slide finally ceased, the head of Aruna's cocks—both at once, was what (m/n) wanted desperately, something to fill him up, please, please, please—

(m/n) felt it. He felt the burn of his rim being breached by something much, much, much thicker than four fingers. Something full, something that was about to burst. 

"Fuck, yes, yes," (m/n) begged with his wrecked voice, "Aruna, Aruna, Aruna—!" Given now the name crossed his lips between the prayer and a plea, he could and would have told all his friends to fuck off if it meant the naga could continue.

"I'm not even halfway," Aruna murmured, tone raspy and so hazy, "Open your legs wider."

It felt like (m/n) was being reshaped—Aruna touched the tight skin over his abs, not to bring him to release, but to feel the outside of what was inside him.

Halfway. Halfway, and there was already an outline of the cock visible from his skin.

And Aruna pressed. He pressed on it, his voice sultry and smooth, so satisfied.

"You look beautiful," He crooned, even when sobs erupted from (m/n)'s body—move, damnit. Move—"I wonder what you'll look like, filled with my children and full of my seed? Would I be able to run my fingers over the curvature of your body, and drink in the sight for months?"

"want it," (m/n) panted, "your children. I want them all..."

The cocks started their long drag out of him, pulling almost to the top before it slipped right back in. (m/n) expected roughness—he expected the rough plunge that would be sure to fuck every inch of sense up when he braced against the pillow, but was treated with a slow slide right into his burning rim that pressed the full breadth of his stroke against his prostate.

Aruna grazed it shallowly with every movement he made.

A sharp bite broke his skin again over his shoulder blade. Aruna's tail curled around slowly, making (m/n) curl into his touch.

"You want me to fuck you, my dear (m/n)?" Aruna purred into the sweat soaked skin of his shoulder.

"Harder," (m/n) panted. “Harder, please. Harder…” He scratched at Aruna’s back, fingernails digging into the naga’s skin.

Aruna let out an affectionate rumble from his chest.

"Gladly," He punctuated the word with a rough thrust that rattled the teeth in (m/n)'s jaw. The hand on his back forced (m/n) to lift his body higher, and (m/n) felt himself stretched and filled to the point where it felt like he would ever be empty again.

"So perfect," Aruna breathed, "you opened up so nicely for me."

(m/n) desperately reached up and tangled his hand into Aruna's loose hair. He twisted and pressed a kiss onto his lips before another earth shattering thrust fucked the strength right out of him, the warmth crawling up on him turning into a flame that threatened to consume them entirely.

Aruna reached out and grasped the back of (m/n)'s neck, using it to pull (m/n) back deeper.

It continued. Each thrust, each moan that slipped from (m/n)'s lips, each kiss. So gentled and heavy, so different from the movements down his hips.

"Inside—" (m/n) pleaded, a punishing thrust forcing the last word in one singular puff of hair—"me. I want you to fuck me so hard that the only thing I'll be comfortable on is your lap."

Something blazed in those black eyes. Aruna hissed, sinking his teeth deep into the back of (m/n)'s neck, where there were already crimson marks beaded with thin rivulets of blood. It was the bite that sent (m/n) over the edge. A final thrust pressed him flush into the mattress, his pleasure addled mind flickering and shaking at the last slam of Aruna's hips before he spilled, taking in the twitching of the naga's cocks, feeling the warmth that rushed into him.

He bonelessly collapsed, feeling the feather light kisses being pressed against deep aching marks.

"That was the first round," Aruna said in his signature honeyed tone, "you can't tell me you're already satisfied, when you were begging for it so desperately earlier..."

He captured (m/n)'s lips in another filthy kiss.

"Did you know, my dear (m/n)? A naga's stamina is plenty."

hope everyone liked it! don’t let it flop by reblogging, liking, and commenting ❤️ thank you for all the support so far

[moonsglare]

who are the top ten pussy eaters from ptn, hsr and genshin all together in your opinion? :3c not really a request but it would be nice if you wrote something dedicated to the first and the second places in the ranking *wink-wink*

well i already know who's in first place........ this one's for you @sinful-lanterns 🫡🫡🫡

VORACITY || multifandom x reader [NSFT][MDNI]

cw. cunnilingus, overstimulation, dacryphilia, squirting, edging, bondage

notes. the little 'excerpts' aren't very long, sorry anon 😭😭😭 alas i am not creative enough to come up with that many different ways to describe eating pussy 😔😔😔 hope u will enjoy <33

1ST PLACE: CABERNET FRANC

Do I even need to elaborate. This woman uses her tongue for a living, she'll be good at using it at the dinner table and between your legs (not that there's much of a difference to her).

She's tasted a lot of good things in her life. Meals made by the finest chefs in the world, and when her Sinner abilities awakened, she tasted souls themselves. But even then, nothing can compare to the taste of your slick on her tongue as she laps it up right from the source.

Cabernet's got her hands on your thighs, her grip hard enough to bruise, keeping them spread open for her to put her entire mouth on your twitching cunt. She alternates between sucking on your clit and plunging her tongue into your hole with ridiculous speed, and she doesn't stop until you're halfway passed out and oversensitive to even the slightest sensation.

You writhe on the bed as Cabernet brings you to your nth orgasm of the night, with nothing but her tongue. Your brain is foggy with pleasure, and you're sure most of it has melted and dripped out of your pussy as cum at this point, but you retain the slightest bit of coherent thought to wonder if Cabernet's knees hurt. Surely they must—she's been at this for hours.

But they do, Cabernet gives no indication, or she simply does not care. Her fiery red hair is a mess from you tangling your fingers in them, spilling like fire across your trembling thighs as Cabernet keeps her mouth firmly on your cunt. Her tongue ruthlessly plunges in and out of your dripping hole, a wet patch having formed on the bed from the times she's made you cum.

"P-please," you slur out hoarsely, hips twitching with each lick. "'S too much, 's too much, can't anymore—"

Cabernet only hums, the vibrations traveling right to your clit and making you sob. She pointedly ignores your whimpers and continues what she's doing, determined to wring yet another orgasm from you.

And fuck, she just might.

The coil in your belly is winding impossibly tight, and you squirm in her iron grip, tears spilling from your eyes now as your entire body feels like a live fucking wire. "C-Cabernet, wait, 'm gonna make a mess—"

"Go ahead," Cabernet croons against your cunt, warm breath fanning over your overstimulated nerves. "Give it all to me."

Her lips find your clit and suck hard, and you cum with a wail and an arch of your back, squirt spilling from your cunt and into her waiting, hungry mouth. Some of it splashes onto her neck and chest, and Cabernet's eyes go half-lidded with desire before she pulls back and you fall back onto the bed, gasping for air as Cabernet climbs over you, licking her lips.

"Simply delectable, my dear."

2ND PLACE: RAIDEN EI & NAVIA CASPAR

NOW BEFORE YOU YELL AT ME FOR PUTTING A TIE, HEAR ME OUT !!

These two are both fiends for sweet things. Absolute little devils for a sugar rush. And you know what they find the sweetest in the entire god damn world? Your pretty pussy of course.

They simply go a little feral between your legs, nosing into you and trying to prod their tongue into your cunt to coax more of your sweetness into their mouth. By the time you push their heads away from your overstimulated pussy, their entire lower face is shiny with slick, some of it even dripping down their neck.

"B-Babe, wait—"

Your words are cut off as she throws your legs over her shoulders, one hand on your thigh, and the other slung across your pelvis to forcibly hold you down. She pushes her face against your cunt, kissing and sucking at your clit, the wet sounds echoing throughout the room.

You arch your back, fingers digging into the sheets as she devours you. You're vaguely aware of her hips rutting against the bed too, her own core burning with need as she eats you out like a woman starved. You release the sheets and tangle a hand in her hair, fingers winding tight enough to tug at her scalp and she moans.

When she looks up at you, her eyes are glazed over, utterly drunk on your pussy. Her lower face is a mess, but she doesn't seem to mind, not as she dives right back in to prod her tongue into your needy hole and you shudder at the sensation, pleasure dancing up your spine like a lightning bolt.

You aren't walking away from this bed for the next few hours, that's for sure.

3RD PLACE: KAFKA

We all knew Kafka would be making this list.

Kafka is a little different from the other two rankings because while she has impeccable technique she doesn't get particularly pussydrunk like Cabernet, Ei or Navia.

So she'll edge you for hours with nothing but her lips and tongue, until you feel like even her just blowing on your clit would have you cumming with a cry.

Kafka is so mean.

You knew this when getting into bed with her, but it didn't really sink in until now, where she's had you tied up for the better half of an hour, your ankles anchored to each corner of the bedpost by maroon ropes, and your wrists bound above your head—all while she laps and kitten licks at your pussy, purposefully avoiding giving you too much stimulation.

Just enough to drive you crazy, but not enough to get you off.

You look down at her between your legs with a whine, need pulsing like a second heart throughout your body as you look into her eyes, dark with desire. She maintains that brutal eye contact with you as she licks a long, slow stripe up your cunt, from your hole to your clit, and you whimper.

The sound makes Kafka grin, and she brings a finger to her lips, wiping your slick off. She rubs her two fingers together, then spreads them in a v-shape, and marvels at the sticky, gossamer string connecting them.

"So pretty, doll," Kafka says, her voice a low, dangerous croon. Her hand rests on your thigh, and you tremble as she leans down and breathes ever so softly on your wetness.

"But you can hold out a little longer, right?"

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Shenhe, Mantis, Stelle and Rahu are all eager, but can be a little sloppy. It's okay though, with enough guidance they'll have you seeing stars soon enough.

Raven runs her mouth a lot, so naturally she'll be good at using it for other purposes too.

Angell gives me incredible cat vibes, and since cats have very dexterous tongues... well, you see where I'm going with this.

[darsynia]

Forgiven (CEO Steve/f!Reader)

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST | Ro Roll | Part II

Summary: Since dropping out of school to care for your sister, your daydream has been that a rich, handsome man will save you from drowning in debt. Until then (read: never), you’ll work hard at your new receptionist job and try not to ogle the impossibly hot construction guy working in the foyer…

Words/Warnings: 2,855 | none

As 5/7 of my Ro Roll birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, forGIVEn is a fluffy meet cute between CEO Steve and f!Freader. Gif is by @ashilesun.

Excerpt:

“Something wrong, miss?”

You look up to see Foreman Eye Candy standing beside the desk looking gently concerned. One sandy blonde curl is plastered to his forehead with sweat, and you can see that his eyes are a gorgeous shade of blue.

From behind you, a hand lands on your shoulder with just enough pressure to guide you to your seat.

“Nothing of note, Sir, I’m sure!” your coworker says hurriedly.

“All right,” the man says, setting his left hand down on the counter. There’s no ring on his finger. ‘Sir’ Eye Candy (you’re going to hell for all of this) offers a kindly, “Have a good afternoon,” and right at that moment, both of the reception phones ring. There’s no time to process the oddness of what’s just happened, not until you’re back at home and making dinner for your sister.

“How was your hump day?” Jennie asks from the living room.

You nearly splash boiling hot water all over yourself.  

FORGIVEN

“Thank God for the internship last summer!” your sister says (again).

“I do, I do,” you promise, looking at yourself critically in the grubby bathroom mirror. She doesn’t have to know you pick a new deity to mentally ��thank’ every time. Today it’s Thor, because you need to bring electricity to your first day on the job. 

You’re hoping to look professional but approachable for this customer-facing position, and it looks like the months of clothes thrifting before your internship last year are really paying off. Do you wish you could work in your field of choice? Sure, but working in the same company as a receptionist means you have both in-field and company knowledge. Once Jennie is back on her feet, you hope to be back on yours, too.

You step into the kitchen to check that everything is set up for your sister. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come back at lunch?”

“No mother hen-ing, you promised! I’ll be fine, and you’ll need your own lunch!”

Your watch beeps that it’s time to start walking to work, so you slip into your sturdy dress shoes and give the room a final once-over. Jennie’s cooler of food is near the couch, she’s got all of the remotes, and her walker is within reach. You’ve even put a pair of crutches in the umbrella stand and lashed the damned thing to the couch so she can’t knock it over. Her charger is at hand, the blinds are down, and the end table has her morning coffee on a coaster.

“Get out or I’ll start throwing things at you and you’ll be late from having to clean them up!” your sister teases.

“I love when you nag,” you tell her, shutting the door before she can retort.

Star Industries is honestly your dream workplace, even after pausing your mechanical engineering degree to take care of Jennie. After Tony Stark and his company spun it off as a subsidiary, Star really came into its own. The company has an inspiring mission: to ensure safe, affordable prosthetics for the people who really need them. Many customers are war veterans, just like the two men in charge. The COO even has one himself.

You’d filled out your paperwork after hours, so when you walk into the building, it’s a nice surprise to see how the morning light floods the lobby. The atrium of the building is made up of a multi-storey open space lit by tall windows, with the company’s logo laid out in the tile floor right as you come in the doors. The A in the word ‘STAR’ is, of course, a star, but it’s the missing ‘K’ from its parent company that catches the eye. Instead of upright, the K is laid on its ‘back.’ One stick figure’s front leg and another stick figure’s back leg make up the angled lines from the K--and they’re both wearing prosthetics.

The name badge you’re given has a smaller version of the same logo, and you can’t help but hope this isn’t the only time you’ll be representing the company. You fix it to your lapel and sit nervously at the desk beside the woman who will train you. It’s an hour before you come up for air long enough to notice there’s some renovation work going on nearby. 

Honestly, ‘notice’ is embarrassingly underselling it.

The windows in the lobby are clearly designed to encourage shafts of sunlight that flood a particular area with a cheerful glow. You’ve managed to look over right when one such beam illuminates a man wearing rough work clothes, his head tipped back to drink out of a water bottle. He’s handsome as hell, with a face like Adonis and powerful muscles straining his sweat-damp t-shirt. The sunlight turns him into a golden statue, and you sure as hell would visit museums more often if the art looked like that!

Your phone rings and you answer promptly, tearing your eyes away from the construction worker just as he smiles at someone. The stammered greeting you offer to the caller could be chalked up to it being your first day, but that isn’t the reason at all.

Your first week on the job is equal parts satisfying and stressful. Satisfying because it turns out you’re a natural at taking zero shit with maximum politeness. Your stress comes from the renovations.

The work isn’t loud, and it’s not like you’re worried about safety or anything. Technically, your job isn’t affected at all… well, not because of your assigned work, that is. No, you’re the one affected, and it’s thanks to the man who seems to be in charge.

After that first day, the tarp that separated their construction from the rest of the lobby had been removed, meaning you could just look over and see him at any point throughout your day.

You’ve been rationing those glimpses for your own sanity.

Despite this, there are still details you’ve noted. One, he’s definitely the foreman. Everyone defers to the guy, but his leadership style seems to rely on trust and respect. Two, he has the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen. Paired with his looks, it’s a disastrous combination, especially given Reason Number Three: he’s an utter beast. More than once you’ve seen him moving things with ease that would take multiple other men to lift.

Today is Monday and the men were all at work before you arrive. Their project is taking shape; it appears to be a café with low counters, maybe a wheelchair-friendly gathering space? It would be on brand for the company, and certainly explains why you’ve been brought on as a second receptionist. The usual population in the lobby will certainly go up once it’s completed.

Before you sit down, you take stock of the wide welcome desk. Would anyone notice if you nudged one of the large flower pots to the left to mostly block your view of the café area? You decide to risk it. Foreman Eye Candy is a Distraction with a capital D, and you already love this job.

The morning goes smoothly--but by lunch you’re fairly certain you’ve memorized the pattern on the side of that damned pot, for as often as you’ve looked over at it.

When you come back from your break, the pot is back where it was before.

Your hands shake a little bit as you log back into your computer. Did a cleaning crew come through and adjust it? You’re not brave enough to ask the senior receptionist for fear she’ll question why it was moved in the first place. It’s probably a fluke, you decide.

Without your makeshift barrier, you find yourself looking over at the Foreman way too many times before you’re done for the day, but he’s smiled at least twice in your direction, so that’s something.

On Tuesday morning, you choose discretion as the better part of valor and scoot the pot over to obscure your view again, even taking the time to nudge its closest neighbor a little, to even up the spacing.

After lunch on Tuesday, both pots are moved back, and Eye Candy is smiling. You doubt the two are related.

On Wednesday you bring in one of those Newton’s Cradle desk toys with permission from your coworker at the desk. It’s altruistic, distracting the children when their parents show up to ask questions. Because your area is recessed a bit, you risk setting the item on a little paper sorter to make it level with the visitors’ side. Completely incidentally, that placement blocks some of your view of the café under construction.

You come back from lunch to find the shelf moved to the other side of your computer monitor.

It’s so disconcerting that you stand there staring at it in shock for a long moment, long enough to attract attention.

“Something wrong, miss?”

You look up to see Foreman Eye Candy standing beside the desk looking gently concerned. One sandy blonde curl is plastered to his forehead with sweat, and you can see that his eyes are a gorgeous shade of blue.

From behind you, a hand lands on your shoulder with just enough pressure to guide you to your seat.

“Nothing of note, Sir, I’m sure!” your coworker says hurriedly.

“All right,” the man says, setting his left hand down on the counter. There’s no ring on his finger. ‘Sir’ Eye Candy (you’re going to hell for all of this) offers a kindly, “Have a good afternoon,” and right at that moment, both of the reception phones ring. There’s no time to process the oddness of what’s just happened, not until you’re back at home and making dinner for your sister.

“How was your hump day?” Jennie asks from the living room.

You nearly splash boiling hot water all over yourself.  

Chanting ‘it’s Wednesday, that’s called ‘hump day,’ there’s nothing that implies you’ve been thinking impure thoughts, pull it together!’ in your head, you answer something non-committal and continue with dinner.

That night you have a dream that Sir Eye Candy walks over and smiles at you, illuminated by one of those rays of light straight from heaven.

On Thursday you arrive at work to find the pots have all been moved farther back along the decorative part of the receptionist’s desk, much too far to move any of them without notice.

As if he’d been waiting for you to see the change, you make brief eye contact with Sir Eye Candy. He does a little nod of acknowledgment before turning to move the large sign for the café. By himself.

“Am I awake?” you whisper to yourself, unable to look away from how effortlessly he moves under heavy strain.

“Keep staring at the boss like that and the rest of his crew will never let you hear the end of it!” your front desk coworker Marcia jokes.

Your cognitive function flatlines as you try to process the word ‘boss’ while at the same time watching the man in question wipe sweat off of his brow. “It’s obvious he’s the foreman,” you mumble, dropping your phone so you have to look away to pick it up. If the screen cracks, you deserve it.

“Oh, honey, this is his side gig. Pet project. Maybe even a vacation, knowing Rogers,” Marcia chuckles.

The name ‘Rogers’ finally gets through to you, in context to ‘the boss.’ Steve Rogers.

Sir Eye Candy is CEO Eye Candy.

“Wait…”

“There it is!” Your coworker gives you the kind of look only busybody aunts and elder coworkers can pull off. “Word is his gym is closed for a few weeks, so he pulled some strings to move this project up. Nice way to start a new job, yeah?”

You’ve been ogling the CEO. “Should I put in my two weeks’ notice?” you whisper. Dismay doesn’t even cover it. You’re practically mortifie--

“I’d advise your manager not to accept,” a nearby voice says. “If anything, I probably ought to call myself into an HR meeting. I’ve been quite distracted this past week.”

It’s CEO Eye Can-- Rogers. All you can do is mutely look up at him, watching the amused look on his face turn into a stern one.

“Have you been messing with my plant display?”

It’s not at all what you were expecting him to say, and you’re still befuddled by the idea he was distracted by you, so you stammer out an admission that yes, you did move his pots.

The phone rings, and after a subtle gesture from Rogers, Marcia takes the call.

“Sir,” you begin, noting the way his posture straightens on hearing the title. You lick your lips in nervousness, and god, his eyes go straight there. HR would be having kittens.

“Go on?” Rogers’ voice is resonant. Everything about this feels like a rom-com, and you are totally worried you’ll screw it up.

“Forgive me for staring?” you offer. You’d meant to say something less obvious, but it’s too late now.

“Yes, well. I’d like to go over your conduct at a lunch meeting, if, that is, you--” he breaks off, lifts his chin, and clears his throat. “In a half hour.”

“I-- Of course--” You’ve answered too late, he’s already walking away and calling out to the crew. Stunned, you look over at Marcia. She’s grinning, but doesn’t look up, and you decide to take your cues from her.

Fifteen minutes later, the work crew wraps up. You see them file out in your peripheral vision, but if Rogers is going to play the Principal’s Office card, you’re going to play at being an obedient student.

This sends your mind on a complete irresponsible rampage, and you’re still tamping down the mental images when a gentleman in a suit walks up to the front of the desk.

Your welcoming smile is already in place when you lift your head to greet him, but it widens into surprised happiness to see that it’s Rogers. At the very last minute you stop yourself from acting like he’s picking you up for a date, even though you very much hope that’s what this is, HR be damned. Every fairytale has a villain, after all, and villains are made to be thwarted.

“Can I help you, sir?”

The word choice is deliberate.

“You can. Marcia, do you usually cover for lunch?”

“I do.”

“Good. We’ll be prompt,” he says firmly, tapping the flat of his palm on the desk with finality. You take the cue, getting up and slinging your purse over your shoulder, but inwardly your stomach is a riot of sawdust. 

Are you reading this wrong? All of your teenage aspirations to be swept off of your feet by a rich, handsome man feel like lead weights at the bottom of your shoes. Steve Rogers’ reputation is sterling, and despite your less-than-angelic daydreams, you don’t want to come across like a gold-digger. Even if you are strapped for cash.

Rogers opens the door for you. The front door. The front door of his business. It’s heady and confusing, even more confusing when a slick silver car pulls up and a valet hands him the keys.

“You look like you either need sunglasses or smelling salts,” he says gently.

“A neck brace,” you quip. “For the whiplash.”

His smile is sheepish as he opens the car door for you. “That’s fair.”

The car is cinematically nice inside, and you suppress the desperate desire to pinch yourself until you wake up as he gets in and adjusts the seat for his height. He doesn’t look over at you, which your adrenaline-drunk mind can’t decide is good or bad.

Then he does, and all you can do is smile back at him.

“A confession: I cribbed some of those lines.” Rogers eases the car out into traffic and lets out a long breath. “From Bu-- a friend of mine. Advice on how to be in charge and ask out a subordinate at the same time.” He stops at a red light and shoots a look over at you. “How’d I do?”

You kind of want that neck brace, but despite the trappings, you’re really enjoying who this man is turning out to be. “That depends. Do you want me to be turned upside down and sideways?”

That earns you a look akin to the one he sent you when you’d called him ‘sir.’ You shiver, and he notices. “I don’t think you want to know what his advice might be on the answer to that question! How about ‘maybe?’”

“Maybe is good,” you manage.

“Glad to hear it. What would you like? Italian? Deli?” Rogers looks over and catches his breath like he’d forgotten his wallet. “An invite to lunch without your employment on the line? I’m sorry about that. I got--” He looks back at the road, hands tight on the steering wheel. “--carried away.”

His candid mix of charm and command are sweeping you completely off your feet, tarnished halo and all. “I don’t think I have time to phone a friend for a better answer, but is ‘maybe’ still good?”

Your sister would walk her ass to the car to smack you if she knew you’d just told the CEO of your new company you’re a ‘maybe’ for a one-on-one ‘maybe’ date with him. You suspect his friend would be facepalming, too.

“Your job isn’t on the line, I promise. I’d never misuse power like that--” He breaks off from his serious tone, looks down at his suit and the fancy car you’re both sitting in, and chuckles. “All evidence to the contrary.”

The whole situation is absurd, unrealistic, completely romantic, and everything you’ve always wanted.

You’re going to wake up any minute now.

Rogers looks over and raises his eyebrows. You realize with embarrassment that he wants you to either tell him where he can stuff his lunch invitation, or where the two of you can go eat.

“I got carried away too,” you rush to say. “Yes to lunch. No maybes in sight.”

“You’re forgiven,” he smiles.

Part 2

[saetiate]

kaiser x reader, how they meet. a lil excerpt of a fic i’m working on

Being in a relationship, falling in love… For Kaiser, those seem like impossible features of life for him. He could still remember stealing just to eat, bruises over his body and an empty heart. Even now, with his and Isagi’s tamed dynamic duo becoming Bastard München’s pride, with Noel Noa’s recent retirement announcement, a relationship feels akin to the idea of a second moon orbiting around earth.

So to hear your voice like a windchime at this event…

“Thanks so much for participating! Having Bastard München be part of this outreach program has been a dream, especially for the children.”

It almost makes him want to break something.

“You think you’re helping them?” He snaps from over the table. He doesn’t mean to, but it comes out like a spit, something ugly that’s been coiled up in his throat. Even stone-faced Noa looks shocked.

“This isn’t the field, Kaiser.” He comments, like an attempt at doing so offhandedly, except nothing Noa does is ever casual.

You meet Kaiser’s eyes and to his surprise, there’s no challenge there. He sees clear eyes and genuine intrigue. The consideration feels like ants crawling up his skin.

“It’s the first time we’re doing this, so to be honest, I’m not sure. But I think it’s a start. If there’s anything better that we can do, please let me know, and I’ll incorporate it.”

It’s a damn rehearsed message, makes him scoff in your direction. It’s only the genuine nature of your smile that keeps him from voicing his distaste. And yet, the moment you finish your conversation with Noa, you come to sit next to him.

You place the schedule, neatly clapped onto a clipboard, right in front of him. He quirks an eyebrow at you.

“You’re under no pressure to sign up.”

“Which is why I haven’t.”

You laugh. Laugh, like he’s charmed you with a joke.

“There’s an outreach program in your hometown, if you’re interested.”

“You think I wanna go back there?”

You hum. “I don’t know. But I do know they practically revere you there, and that they’d appreciate your presence. You don’t have to see anyone you don’t want to. You can show up for 5 minutes out of the allotted time. You can show up to one across the world instead. You can sign up and then cancel last minute. But if you’d consider it for even a moment, I’d love to have you.”

He looks at you, direct and cutting, and you greet him so openly that his stare gets harsher, and then he immediately pulls his eyes away.

He’s been crude to you today, hasn’t he? It’s his due, then, to pay his penance.

He sighs, flipping through the pages with one hand until he finds the page with his hometown, then scribbles his name down hard enough to leave an indent on the next couple pages.

“Thank you, Kaiser,” the way you say it is so soft it feels intimate, like a lover’s breath against his ear. He would’ve had less of a reaction if you had put your hand on his thigh, but there’s no touch, nothing that solidifies you to him or this moment when he replays it later in his head. “I really do look forward to seeing you there.”

[azulazenin]

Her Sweet Boy

Kinktober 2024 | Pegging

Paring: Adrian Tepes/Original Character (Mihaela Karnstein)

Summary: Mihaela pegs her sweet husband for the first time

Warnings: Explicit content, pegging (obviously). Minors DNI !

A/N: This is an extra for my story The Blackest Day, and its sequel Swan Song. Be mindful that in this particular universe, Alucard was born in 1451, not 1456 like the show, and Mihaela was born in 1453. However, they are both dhampirs and they develop faster, by the time this excerpt happens they are physically, emotionally and mentally adults.

1470

Mihaela was having the time of her life, delighting in the sounds of her dear love beneath her. Adrian was a sight to behold, so beautiful in his white sleeping shirt that resembled a very tiny chemise, the tissue perfectly hugging his body and enhancing all his best spots, lifted up to his waist level and lowered on his chest, exposing his full breasts.

Mihaela had one of his nipples in her mouth, sucking and licking circles around it as she moved on top of him, in and out, in and out, the phallic, rubberized toy on the strap she wore, in and out of his tight hole. Penetrating him was nothing new; more often than not, giving him head included having two of her fingers shoved deep into his ass, but it was the first time she had him like this, writhing and moaning under her as he begged to be fucked harder, for her to push the fake cock deeper.

“Honey, p-please...” Adrian whined, his cock hard and throbbing against his belly.

His nipple slipped off Mihaela’s mouth and she looked up, never stopping to rock her hips against his. “Please what, my sweet?”

“L-Let me t-touch myself… please, I-I need to touch...”

She chuckled, so grateful for having taken the little trip to the Turkish market at the coast of the Black Sea where they found all sorts of peculiar stuff, from aphrodisiacs and questionable pieces of underwear to the toy that had him whimpering like a maiden on her wedding night. “But of course, my sweet boy, anything you need.”

Adrian thanked her and grabbed his cock, a relieved sighed escaping his throat when he started to jerk off.

Mihaela smirked, kneeling in between his wide open legs and squeezing his thighs, increasing the pace of her movements. She was dripping wet, both from Adrian’s reactions and the base of the toy brushing against her cunt, causing her to thrust harder, pursuing both his and her relief.

“Fuck honey, y-you’re s-so good… a-ah!” He moaned, his face flushed and eyes burning with desire when he looked up at her body hovering over his: the image of her naked body, tits bouncing and curls glued to her forehead as she fucked the rubber cock into him would forever haunt his wet dreams. “I’m so close...”

She leaned closer to him and grabbed his chin, capturing his lips on a sloppy kiss, his desperate moans muffled by her mouth on his, his legs caging her waist and his free hand scratching her back, the notion of the inversion of roles driving them wild. Mihaela wasn’t much of a exhibitionist, but in the heat of the moment, she couldn’t help but imagine how scandalized some people would get if they knew she was pegging her husband on their marital bed.

The thought alone caused Mihaela to clench around nothing, thrusting impossibly faster, moaning into his mouth whenever the rubber hitted her clit. Adrian’s back arched in pleasure, his hand moving up and down his length until he couldn’t take it anymore and reached his climax in an explosion that painted his abs white. But Mihaela kept thrusting, fucking into him until her bud was red and swollen from the stimulation and she reached her orgasm too.

She gasped, laughing her high off when she withdrew, untying the strands of the strap and tossing it aside before falling on top of Adrian. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her against his chest, kissing her forehead with a smile on his lips.

“Thank you for doing this, my love. You were amazing.”

Mihaela chuckled. “I should be the one thanking you, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this. Actually, maybe we should do it again… think you can ride me next time?” She suggested with a devilish smirk on her face.

Adrian blushed, her boldness during their intimate moments would never cease to amaze him. “We’ll see, my darling, we’ll see.”

[rounderhouse]

Excerpt from Wetware: A Brief History of Biological Computing (Park, 2055)

Wetware computers led to a new marriage of biology and cybersecurity. A surprisingly successful one; our conception of the digital has always been modeled on the biological. Defending a server rack of flesh-and-blood neural-slices from a virus isn’t all that different from defending a traditional computer against one.

But it also led to an entirely new problem neither field was equipped to solve. the gene-samples used to grow new wetware computers widely proliferated before cancer screening had advanced to where it is now, and federal law now prohibits non-governmental entities from harvesting genetic samples for computing purposes. No matter how hard you try — and computing giants like IBM and Kessler dedicate billions to it — even the most carefully-cultivated strains of biochips, trays of neurons millimeters thick and wired in vast warehouse-brains, will eventually develop computing tumours.

Most are benign, harmless drains on computational resources, but every so often one becomes malignant. They are almost impossible to detect in the noise of the output, but they work their own agendas, whispering orthogonal thoughts to any given task. Unnoticed by the teams of clean-suited biotechs, they grow and grow and grow and spill bad data into the body. The risks of unrestrained computumour growth become readily apparent after Kessler won a Pentagon contract to organize satellite data for orbital kinetic strikes, and delivered a firing solution that confidently directed satellites to sink two Navy aircraft carriers. Three of the server racks in their Lake Razor facility were later found to be completely riddled with cybertumours.

Interestingly, the original gene-sample for the Lake Razor facility was a 28-year-old war casualty.

[lavender--fairy]

𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 & 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐫

I was always in awe of how Neville manifested for others. To promise someone that you’d fulfill their wishes just with your imagination seemed crazy to me. I mean, can you imagine telling multiple people—not just one—that you’d bring their desires to life, without any ifs, buts, or maybes? And all of it, purely through imagination?

I used to wonder about the what-ifs. What if it didn’t happen at all? What if it didn’t happen in time? What if it wasn’t what they wanted? What if they got upset? What if my doubts ruined it? I’d laugh it off, saying, “Let me manifest a fistful of my own desires first.”

But now I realize—it all comes from unwavering faith and viewing yourself as higher than any state, desire, or problem. Strip them of the unnecessary importance you’ve given them. View them as just states—nothing more. You can do this too. It’s not impossible, or even hard.

Neville wasn’t some demi-god meant only to be praised and listened to. In fact, time after time, he invited people to try it for themselves. And so can you. But do it gently and lovingly. It’s meant to be effortless, not forced.

"But grant me the freedom to change it (my state)—don’t leave me in the state if I desire to get out of it. Yet many a person wallows in it, and wallows in it morning, noon, and night, and they are totally unaware they are doing it. They will say, ‘Oh, yes,’ and then five seconds later they are back in that state (Old Man). I have had interviews with people who will say to me, ‘This is what I would like, but I must first tell you . . . .’ Don’t tell me anything! Tell me what you want—they are only states! They insist on wallowing in all the things of the past.” — Neville

Here he tells how people always wanted to tell him how the circumstances were against them and telling him how the fulfillment of their desires seemed unlikely or even impossible. However, this man, Neville didn’t care about the so-called obstacles people believed stood in the way of their desires. When people came to him, listing all the reasons their desires were impossible, he cut through it all with one simple truth:

“Don’t tell me anything! Tell me what you want. They are only states.”

That’s it. That’s the key. And that’s all you need to do. Stop viewing your problems and desires as something huge. Free yourself from the stress, worry, and doubt—it’s unnecessary, and entirely self-imposed.

This is fear and pedestalization at play.

Here’s an excerpt from my journal on putting things on a pedestal:

Everything is inherently neutral. We’re the ones coloring it with meaning. We put it on a pedestal, look up at it with clasped hands and desperate eyes, wishing it was ours. We make it seem grand, impossible, out of reach, when in reality—it’s just a state.

What if you stripped away all the emotional attachment? What if you took away all the value, status, and importance you’ve assigned to it? What would be left?

A state is nothing without “I AM.”

I’ve only just realized how important it is to view yourself highly. It’s only when you see your desires and problems as huge that anxiety arises. But when you see yourself as higher than any state, you begin to understand how Neville manifested so effortlessly.

It all comes from realizing that you are greater than any desire, problem, or state. Because you are.

I AM is greater than anything—and you are that I AM.

You don’t depend on your desire. It depends on you. You don’t seek your desire. It seeks you. You think you can’t live without it, but the truth is—it can’t exist without your “I AM-ness.”

A creator is always greater than its creation. Remember that.

We’ll tackle fear in the next post. For now, try not to overthink or worry. Sit with this. Contemplate it. And most importantly, be gentle and loving with yourself.

Give yourself a big hug. A pat on the back.

I highly recommend this meditation by EdwardArtSupplyHands to reinforce this:

Pharaoh/King Meditation

Let's aim to view ourselves, high and higher.

[abbessofflesh]

Coming out of fanfic-writing retirement to whip up a fic with reluctant sub!Remmick and an attemptedswitch!reader he can only entertain for so long. Lots of feral behavior. Very freaked out.

Here’s a few sneak peaks!

Summary: Feeling neglected in your relationship, you attempt to switch roles with Remmick in the bedroom. It does not go as planned.

Warnings: The actual fic will have way more but there's not so many in these excerpts, use of restraints, hints of dub con

In a single breath, Remmick’s face darkens, the minute change so delicate you almost missed it. Those prey instincts of yours work overdrive to compensate for your infatuated, simple-minded decision-making. You feel a stab of worry at the idea that something you said offended him that deeply, but it’s gone at the revival of his usual easygoing demeanor.

“So this is how ya show me? By actin’ out?”

Perhaps not entirely gone.

“I’m tryin’ something new.” You tilt your head, angling your chin in what you hope conveys defiance and not bumbling inexperience.

Despite the inconvenienced air he tries to maintain, you see the mirth in his eyes. Like he’s watching you show your teeth for the first time.

“Alright.” The leisurely drawl is at odds with the way Remmick’s eyebrows raise and lips part in exaggerated disbelief. “Don’t let me stop you, darlin’.”

Metal clacks as the cuffs grind against the bed frame halfway through a gesture of go ahead, then. The slow tilt of his head up to glare at the manacles puts the pale column of his throat on display. A brief, primitive urge of yours is to curve your hand around it, to feel him swallow under your palm in a reversal of your usual bedroom roles. You decide not to push your luck so soon into your game, instead waiting as he settles his irritated gaze back on you, brows furrowed and lips pursed.

You can’t help but smile at how put out he looks. An expressive, pouty face that exudes attitude.

You lean forward with the intention of capturing a kiss from him out of habit, but pause halfway up his chest. His eyebrows raise expectantly, head cocked and the well? is unspoken but very much heard.

“Thought better of it, actually. Best keep outta reach of those teeth.”

“Now darlin’, I am offended-”

________

After the third time you pull away, his patience wears thin.

“That’s it. Tha’s it- what in the fuck.”

Yeah. Definitely a flicker of crimson hue in those eyes that time.

“I was thinkin’ we make it a weekly thing. Our date, I mean. I’d like to go back to bein’ well and properly courted-”

“Lemme go.” The chains rattle against the frame in a sharp, worrying tug.

“No.” You hum distractedly, eyes fluttering closed lest you lose your nerve. “You not havin’ fun?”

“I’d much rather be eatin’ that cunt of yours until I can’t get the taste off my tongue. Until the thought of accusin’ me of not takin’ care of ya’ is fucked out of your head.”

It’s impossible to hide your vicious shudder, toes curling against the strewn sheets.

Stay focused. Stay. Focused.

“Hmm. Never got my answer.”

His hips spring up in an attempt to continue rubbing against your folds.

“Ah, ah.” You scold, lifting your hips out of reach and giving his reddened nipple a pull. “Be a good boy, Remmick.”

“Enough beatin’ around the bush. If you’re gonna fuck me, darlin’, fuck me.”

________

Underneath you, Remmick plants his heels on the bed and thrusts up with savage strength. It strikes deep, the ache and shock of it drawing a yelp out of you as your eyes fly open. You flail briefly, having to brace yourself with palms gripping his sweat-slick shoulders, shaking thighs no longer capable of stabilizing yourself. Your breath hitches at the sight you were trying to avoid. Your wide-eyed stare lands on his vicious grin of too many teeth, drool spilling from the side of his mouth.

“Hey!” You stutter, paired with a hard slap on his chest that doesn’t even make him blink.

Fuck, you’re in over your head.

In an effort to maintain control, you scold him. The false, shaky authority nearly makes you cringe. “Behave.”

His eyes glow red in the dim room, shadows cast over his face. “Oh darlin’, I am. Believe you me.”

You’re locked onto each other for a moment. A slow trail of your eyes over the spit pooling around his collar.

“Poor thing.” You coo, carefully staying out of biting distance.

Your send your hips back, dragging over his cock to settle on his thighs. His gaze tracks your breasts as your back arches, dragging your hardened nipples over his torso during your descent.

You allow yourself a small smile at the lowered pull of his brow as you begin to turn around, your face now concealed from his predatory scrutiny.

There’s a change to the air. The life sucked out of it. Everything seems to still.

Your vampire is no longer amused.

[howifeltabouthim]

All boys need a father's love, and they'll do anything to get it, and Arthur had tried being good, and it hadn't worked, so that left only greatness. Perfection.

Lev Grossman, from The Bright Sword

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

on the one hand i feel weird using david carr's actual memoir about his real life severe cocaine addiction to think about the AMC television program interview with the vampire... on the other hand the AMC television program interview with the vampire basically makes it impossible not to, because of how this book about a journalist investigating and fact-checking his own life during the years he was using is so obviously the incredibly specific inspiration for daniel's memoir as it is described in the show, to the extent that when it came up in the show i said "oh, like that book by the guy at the new york times magazine that i always meant to check out ever since reading an excerpt in the magazine in high school but never got around to."

anyway, the book is called the night of the gun, and he opens it by talking about the day he was offered the choice between going back to rehab or getting fired from the newspaper he was working at and he chose getting fired and, obviously, celebrated in the manner one would expect. things escalated and he and his best friend got kicked out of somewhere, and his best friend ditched him on the grounds that he was always getting them kicked out of places, so (very high and now also very pissed off) carr called him telling him he was going to come over, and his friend warned him not to and told him he had a gun. carr went over anyway, tried to kick his way into the door, terrified his friend's sister, and, sure enough, his friend pointed a gun at him, told him he would be calling the cops, and did in fact call the cops, although carr slipped away as they arrived. he describes his regret the morning after, remembering how he'd been acting so out of pocket his best friend had felt the need to point a gun at him.

then he tells us that when, recently, he told his friend how he remembered that night, the day he got fired, his friend remembered it more or less the same way, except: i never owned a gun; i think you might have had the gun. and carr sort of summarizes his project by saying: this is a book about who had the gun. which.... again, very hard to read that line, in this context, and not think about AMC television program interview with the vampire, which is also, in its way, a book about who had the gun.

[elen-tari2]

Hard Exit (Read on Ao3)

Imprisoned in the Red Hook dungeon, Frank realizes the prisoner on the other side of the wall from him is someone important.

Rated: M bc Frank kills a bunch of Anti Vigilante Task Force guys

Excerpt:

“Well, if they wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Why are you still breathing?”

“Leverage.”

“A bargaining chip, huh? Against who?”

“Against whom,” the man corrected.

“So what are you, a professor?”

“No,” the man snapped, slightly irritated. “I’m a lawyer. Franklin Nelson.”

Frank’s body locked up, like a trigger half-pulled. Time seemed to stand still. He could feel every bead of sweat on his brow, the ache of the bruises on his ribs, the way the cuffs dug in too tight to the flesh of his wrists. Not a single one of his muscles moved. He was pretty sure his heart stopped beating as comprehension washed over him, violent, impossible knowing. His ears were ringing as if he’d just taken a blow to the head, every nerve sparking in disbelief.

Karen.

He shut his eyes and tears he hadn’t felt gathering ran down his cheeks.

“. . . so do I just call you New Guy, for now?” Nelson prompted, when Frank did not reciprocate sharing his identity. “You don’t have to tell me your life story or anything, just thought we could get acquainted. Since we’re gonna be neighbors for a bit.”

Frank fought through his stunned paralysis and made himself form words.

“Son of a bitch,” he gasped out. “You’re. . . Foggy Nelson.”

“Well, yeah, actually, most people call me that. How do you know that? Am I famous or something?”

“You’re dead.”

“I assure you, I am very much alive.”

Frank shook himself, trying to wrap his head around it all. “Yes. Yes you are, counselor. And you do not know how fucking glad I am to hear that. Jesus Christ.”

“. . . Frank Castle?” Nelson was no idiot.

“Bet your sweet ass.”

[val-made-a-mistake]

here's a little excerpt of something venom related that i'm working on! getting back to requests slowly, but surely!

word count: 720

-

The café was packed, and Eddie hovered awkwardly by the counter, trying not to look like he was staring. You were a few tables away, laughing at something a friend - an annoyingly attractive friend - was saying, and you hadn’t noticed that he’d wandered in yet.

But he’d absolutely noticed you were there. Eddie clenched his jaw, feeling a pang of something he didn’t totally want to admit to. 

WHAT’S SO FUNNY? Venom’s voice rumbled inside his head, sharper than usual. It was clear that he was looking at the same thing as he was.

I DON’T LIKE HIM. HE IS…GETTING TOO CLOSE.

Eddie mumbled under his breath, half-pleading, “Would you stop it, man? She’s allowed to have friends.”

I DON’T WANT HER TO HAVE FRIENDS. I WANT HER TO HAVE US.

Venom’s words were downright possessive now, and Eddie got the sense that he was going to be forced to do something he would regret.

"Dude, you can't..."

WHY DON’T WE EAT HIM? the symbiote asked, much too quickly.

Eddie shot a horrified look around, hoping no one overheard him. Still not totally used to the whole ‘symbiote inside of him’ thing, after all. He was much too aware of himself now.

“We’re not eating her friends, okay? That’s…that’s psychotic,” he hissed, in the quietest voice he could muster. “C’mon.”

A stranger shot him a weird look, clearly confused at the man talking to himself in the middle of a crowded café, but Eddie ignored it.

HE’S LAUGHING TOO MUCH, Venom continued, like decapitation wasn’t a big deal to him. WE CAN MAKE HIM STOP. 

Despite himself, Eddie glanced back. The guy leaned in closer to you over the table, saying something that made you laugh again, and something inside Eddie snapped.

Before he could stop himself - or Venom - he was striding over, hands shoved in his pockets, trying for casual.

“Hey, uh... what’s going on here?” he blurted out, his voice stiffer than he would’ve liked. The guy opposite you stared at him.

Eddie cleared his throat, doing his best to not shoot a glare at the guy you were talking to, desperately trying to save the situation. He wasn’t totally sure if he was the one who had forced his feet forward, anyway.

“Uhh, n-nice to see you guys, I should say. Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

You looked up, a little surprised but smiling. “Oh, hey, Eddie! We were just talking about—”

WE DON’T CARE, Venom hissed in Eddie’s ear, and he flinched hard before he could stop himself. SHE’S COMING WITH US NOW.

Your friend gave him a strange look at the seemingly random flinch, and Eddie felt his face flush. Shit, shit, just get out of here.

“Uh, maybe we could...talk? Alone? If that’s... okay?” he stammered, shooting a mental would you please knock it off? at Venom. He hoped he’d understand, but he didn’t have high hopes.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide a smile, and at the sight of it, Eddie’s stomach did a backflip.

“Sure, Eddie,” you said, standing up. “Is everything alright?”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair as he guided you away from your friend, muttering under his breath to Venom.

“You just had to say that, didn’t you?”

SHE’S OURS, Venom replied smugly, and Eddie could practically feel the symbiote’s satisfaction.

"I'll just be a minute," you said to your friend, before you both disappeared into the bathroom hallway.

After a few steps, Eddie finally mustered the nerve to glance at you. “Sorry about... that. It’s just, uh...” He scratched his neck, feeling ridiculous. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

You laughed softly, reaching up to nudge his arm. “Is that so? You don’t have to be jealous, you know.”

He chuckled, flustered. “Yeah, well... tell that to him.”

Your eyes briefly flicked down, like you were able to see Venom through Eddie’s chest or something. “Oh, is the big guy in there?”

“Yep,” he said awkwardly, and it was impossible to not notice how your eyes had lit up. “Always with me, y’know.”

Then, overtaken by a sudden desire so powerfully he didn’t know if it was Venom forcing the words out of his mouth again, he said, “Do you want to get out of here?”

[just-some-sorta-person]

Karasu and Otoya’s Backstories Reflect Aspects of Nagi as a Character.

“Karasu never shows his true nature bc he doesn’t believe he’s an interesting person”, “When anything unpleasant happened to Otoya he’d overwrite it bc thinking was pointless”

Familiar?

Karasu never shows his true nature because he doesn’t believe he’s interesting He’s aware he’s mediocre but doesn’t want others to know so he formed a mechanism of self protection to keep others from realizing He’s afraid of being hurt, self conscious

Otoya goes with the flow- if unpleasant things happen to him, he overwrites it and forgets. He thinks thinking is pointless. Worrying about something means it’s beyond his current capabilities so he doesn’t and he doesn’t want to. He refuses to introspect- I uh I mean despair

Not wanting to think about your weaknesses, unpleasant aspects of your life, and not wanting to worry about having to use excessive effort to get what you want For both Nagi and Otoya, this kind of thinking leads to a fixed mindset.

Like how Otoya said worrying about something meant it was beyond ur capabilities, in his LN Nagi says that working hard to become special means you aren’t special. So Otoya doesn’t worry and Nagi doesn’t want to work hard, especially given that working hard is “a pain”.

If ability is inherent then why make yourself go through something unpleasant to fight against an impossibility? Like how Otoya calls thinking “pointless”, Nagi calls it “a pain”. So they both avoid thinking

When unpleasant things happen he insists on ignoring it and focusing on other things. Take Nagi’s reaction to Reo breaking up with him as a key example. It’s unpleasant to think about Reo, so he tries not to

Nagi even gets mad when Bachira reminds him of Reo. “I don’t need weaklings like you on the field” and it’s a huge “pain” to think about. So he focuses instead on being reborn and crushing Rin. You even see a similar thing in that extra where Nagi picks a fight with everyone

Even before Reo, Nagi ignored unpleasant things in his life, choosing not to care and therefore not fixing them. Otoya “did things he liked” but Nagi’s version was more so “avoided things he didn’t like” which is why his free floating lifestyle ends up looking more depressing.

Otoya overwrites unpleasant things in his life with fun things but Nagi doesn’t do that. - well, maybe until he started pecking at his shell in bllk. Instead Nagi decides that it doesn’t matter. For example: Sure Nagi is alone and no one likes him, but he’s fine like this

It’s not a lie to say Nagi didn’t yearn for companionship before Reo but just because he didn’t explicitly experience the feeling of “loneliness” doesn’t mean that he was happy or that he didn’t experience the emotional downsides of being alone.

You could say that emptiness was always there and then it was only when Reo filled it and left that it became noticeable. Nagi was fine with everyone disliking him but when someone showed signs of actually enjoying his company it became worth making an effort for.

So it’s not that Nagi is inherently incapable of human connections or that he doesn’t like having someone he’s connected to. Reo or not, I think it’s clear that companionship makes Nagi happy. It’s just that Nagi was entirely focused on avoiding the downsides of human contact while being unaware of the upsides. In a similar way that Nagi was entirely focused on avoiding the “pain” of trying before he experienced frustration and was unaware of the thrill he could get from feeling challenged because he was so overgrown as a genius.

Nagi says he wasn’t lonely and I trust him a little in the sense that he really didn’t want to interact with people and he doesn’t seem to get lonely easily. But can’t you be lonely by virtue of suffering for your aloneness or must you feel the distinct emptiness to claim the title?

(more LN excerpts)

Hm. Well. Within the parallel from before, while Otoya says “don’t worry” Nagi says “don’t try”. Tho this later shifts to a milder but still inhibiting take “don’t give it your all”. Tho ofc Nagi also doesn’t like thinking about his weaknesses.

Nagi’s avoidance leads into Karasu’s backstory bc they’re both afraid of being hurt, and believe they aren’t interesting. While Karasu protects himself from others“realizing his true nature” I’d say Nagi protects himself from anyone including himself “realizing his true nature”

Unlike Karasu, Nagi doesn’t have awareness of his limits, so he doesn’t “know he’s mediocre” or use analysis for protection. Nagi just doesn’t believe in his own value +uses his Otoya-like “It doesn’t matter to me” “it’s a pain to think about so let’s not” strategy as protection

Let’s backtrack a bit. I said Nagi protects himself from realizing his true nature. This is related to Nagi not being aware of his limits or believing in his own value. He didn’t even think he was a prodigy until recently with his realization in the current match

Nagi says if someone works hard to prove they’re special, it means they aren’t special in the first place. Presumedly because if you give something your all, you’ve fully unveiled yourself and if you’re still struggling then, then your full self has just proven to be not enough

For this reason, competition and trying hard make very little sense to Nagi. Why would someone give their all and unveil themselves as not special? It’s cringe/embarrassing to prove how lame you are by struggling as your truest self. You’re unveiling your true nature as “normal”

At least if you achieve nothing by lack of effort you won’t prove to the world how un-special you really are. This is not a good way of thinking btw haha… it’s struggling as your best self that’s admirable. Nagi also states that no one would be interested in him anyways.

He repeats this when meeting Reo btw, when it seems Reo might be interested in him. He self-deprecates when describing Reo’s unusual interest in him to Zantetsu- he really doesn’t get why Reo’s so excited and doesn’t see himself as a prodigy until he starts testing himself out

Nagi actively says Reo is weird for not being bothered by him. when Reo insists Nagi has value, it’s meaningful to Nagi bc before Reo he was sure he didn’t. And because he was sure he didn��t have value, Nagi never did anything.

Not caring and avoiding trying protected Nagi from his potential/hypothetical lack of value. In the same way that avoidance protects Nagi from his feelings about the whole Reo situation. If you never confront it you never have to deal with it. Growing pains are brutal.

Excerpts from Nagi’s Light Novel were taken from here translated by mzk_70 on twitter, mzk70.bsky.social on blue sky

This is a crosspost of a thread made on August 7, 2024