Tumgik
#I have no idea where you came from
kedreeva · 2 years
Note
Kindness does take practice. The first time my arachnophobic ass tried to scoop a spider into a cup and place it outside, I panicked at the last second and literally threw the cup and the spider out the back door. But I got the hang of it eventually.
This is very serious and I need you to know that I am extremely proud of you for practicing kindness toward spiders
and also I wheezed laughing at this mental image
and also, in solidarity I will tell you that the first time I tried to pick up a spider with my bare hands (one I knew was harmless), I also panicked halfway to standing up with it and began flailing about to get it off of me.
So, good job us for continuing despite our less than illustrious beginnings.
4K notes · View notes
soapyakships · 26 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
knmf white day ruined my life
2K notes · View notes
sneez · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
family portrait :D young sam and sybil are behaving themselves and vimes is throwing a hissy fit because they tried to make him wear the helmet
[id: a digital painting of three people sitting for a portrait in a domestic interior. young sam is standing with his hands behind his back and beaming proudly. vimes is standing behind him with his hand on his shoulder, wearing a shiny military uniform and a surly expression. sybil is sitting on the right with an arm around young sam, smiling at the viewer. a plumed helmet is sitting on a table on the left. end id.]
1K notes · View notes
fishsticksart · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Francesca - Hozier
If someone asked me at the end, I'll tell them put me back in it
[Francesca, Hozier // The Ghosts of Paolo and Francesca Appear to Dante and Virgil, Ary Scheffer // Francesca, Hozier // Canto V, Inferno, Dante Alighieri // Francesca (Official Video), Hozier // Francesca, Hozier // Ship on Stormy Seas, Ivan Aivazovsky // Francesca, Hozier // Canto V, Inferno, Dante Alighieri // Paolo and Francesca, Mosè Bianchi // Francesca, Hozier // Paolo and Francesca da Rimini, Gustave Doré // Before Romeo and Juliet, Paolo and Francesca Were Literature’s Star-Crossed Lovers, John-Paul Heil // Paolo and Francesca, Frank Dicksee // Francesca i Paolo, Ludwik Wiesiołowski // Before Romeo and Juliet, Paolo and Francesca Were Literature’s Star-Crossed Lovers, John-Paul Heil // Paolo and Francesca da Rimini, Dante Gabriel Rossetti // Francesca, Hozier // Francesca (Later with Jools Holland), Hozier on BBC Music // Canto V, Inferno, Dante Alighieri // tumblr user @handgf // The Kiss, Auguste Rodin // Paolo e Francesca, or Morte di Paolo e Francesca, Gaetano Previati // Hozier // Hozier // Hozier]
#web weaving#web weave#web weavings#webweaving#hozier webweaving#hozier#hozier lyrics#francesca#francesca hozier#francesca da rimini#dantes inferno#paolo and francesca#you have no idea how insane this song makes me#first of all MY NAME IS LITERALLY FRANCESCA#LIKE HOZIER WROTE A SONG WITH MY NAME AND NOW I GET TO HEAR MY NAME IN INTERVIEWS???#AND MY NAME WRITTEN IN HIS HANDWRITING?? HELLO INSANE#and then my second thought was when i realized since it was dantes inferno themed album it was probably in reference to ->#-> francesca da rimini and ding ding ding i was right#and i knew this cause im a complete nerd who reads Smithsonian articles for fun and there was one article about francesca and paolo#and thats actually where some of the art in this came from cause i went back to that article today#and i forgot that part about Tchaikovsky but it's actually really touching and fitting i felt like#its so cool how much art has been inspired by francesca and paolo for so long#and i just had to make this and i loved it cause its such an aching touching song that descends beauty#and the quotes from the inferno itself with francesca speaking were so beautiful#wow im such a nerd but i love it#shoutout to hozier once again for giving francesca and all francescas out there the recognition they deserve#OH AND ALSO I HAD TO PUT IN A CLASSIC Ivan Aivazovsky PAINTING#CAUSE THATS THE ONE THAT PEOPLE MISTAKE FOR GATHERING STORM BUT ITS DIFFERNT!!!!!!!!!!!!#CAUSE THIS ONE IS MORE ANGRY AND TURBULENT AND OMINOUS#WHICH DEFINETLY FITS THE STORM AND HURRICANE LYRIC I FEEL LIKE IDK I LOVE COMBINING MY NERDY ARTSY INTERESTS
624 notes · View notes
pullhisteeth · 6 months
Text
you get a promotion and Eddie wants to show you how proud he is :-) with his mouth :-)
18+ minors dni! fem!reader, p in v, oral (f receiving), gross amounts of fluff, lots of swearing lol. not proofread in the slightest
3k
-
Is it possible to smile any wider?
Your cheeks ache with wonder, smile lines deep and eyes sore. It’s a feeling like no other, and yet you daren’t think about how it’ll feel when you tell him.
You’re eager and light on your feet, quick steps up the concrete stairs. You climb three flights like it’s nothing and almost slip when you reach the door. It takes you one, two, three goes to get the key in before you’re wrenching it open to find Eddie sitting lazily, reclined and dozing, on the couch.
He perks up when you drop your bag and kick off your shoes, eyes opening slowly as he lifts himself to sit upright. You shuffle, tugging your scarf off and your coat along with it. Where you’d ordinarily hang them carefully by the door, above the rack for your shoes, you drop them, far too elated to think about anything else.
“Hi,” Eddie sings, a dopey smile creeping in. He’s in his sweats, and the smell of pot lingering in the room, despite the open window, is proof enough that he’s enjoyed his day off.
“I got it,” you say, breathless, still grinning like a kid on Christmas. You watch as his eyes widen, smile dropping only for a second before he’s beaming just as much as you are.
“You’re serious?” he asks. His voice is louder now, as though you’d slapped him awake.
“Serious,” you respond, “I got it.”
He’s up quicker than you can think to expect, crossing the room in bounds to wrap his arms around your middle and lift you effortlessly off the ground. He’s squeezing you, spinning you, laughing like a mad man.
“No fucking way!” he’s shouting, and the elation in his voice alone could keep you feeling like this for weeks.
You’re giggling, happy noises squeezed out of you as he rubs his face into the pretty silk of your blouse. He lets you down slowly, softly, your socks hitting the carpet as his hands come up to hold your face. His palms warm your frosty cheeks.
“You,” he says, using his grip to look you square in the eye, “are so amazing.”
He kisses you on the mouth, hot and heavy and possessed by joy, and then begins an assault on the rest of your face. Each kiss is sweet and lovely and makes you giggle, and he dots them between gasping declarations: you are incredible, I love you, I love you so much, I am so proud of you.
That last one is what does it, sends your knees weak as you buckle. His arms are swift and secure, pulling you up and across the room to the couch. He’s still kissing every part of you he can reach: your temple, forehead, the crown of your head, and finally your nose. He lays you on the cushions and his fingers move quicker than his hazy brain, still a little cloudy with the remnants of the afternoon’s joint. He unbuttons your blouse, deciding it looks far too pretty on you to risk popping any buttons. His lips aren’t far behind his hands, dotting kisses over the skin between your collarbones as he tugs the shirt down your arms and pulls it out from underneath your body. He’s warm and lovely and your fingers can’t help but take root in his hair, tugging softly but never too rough.
“You’re amazing,” he repeats, breaths filled with love. “So amazing.”
“Eddie,” you whine, squirming under his hands and mouth, your insides bubbling with pride and love. You’re delirious with it, still giggling and humming contentedly when the pads of his fingers brush over the lace of your bra.
He’s riling you up in every way he can. With your shirt on the floor he can make quick work on your chest, tugging material down so he can dote on the swell of flesh. He leaves reckless marks, blooming purples of pride, and as his warm hands inch around your back to the clasp you arch into him, against his hip and the ghost of the way you’re making him feel.
“I know,” he coos, light and airy as his breath hits your face. “Shit, I know.”
Swiftly, he pulls the bra off and out of his way, but it’s too much - why are you like this while he’s bundled in a sweatshirt? There’s too much between the two of you, too many layers, and your skin is burning and you need to know that his is as well.
Your impatient fingers paw around the bottom of his sweatshirt, where the hem of his t-shirt peaks out. With a kiss clearly aimed at your nose - he misses by an inch and lands an awkward one beneath your eye - he leans back onto his knees, eyes tied to yours, and tugs both tops off in one quick movement.
You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself if you tried. You press tough palms against his stomach, fingers splayed over ink and skin, pawing at flesh like you’re dying. He laughs at you, a smug and breathless noise, as he tosses the material across the room. You hear it land with a thud just as he kisses your jaw, lips leaving a hot trail down your neck.
You wriggle, hands back in his hair, mewling at his kisses and this reaction to your own hard work. Eddie couldn’t be prouder of you, you knew this anyway, but to feel so appreciated, so acknowledged, and for him to feel pride for you, sends you dizzy.
“You’re amazing,” he tells you again, words scattered between more kisses to your sternum, stomach, waist. “Worked so hard, y’deserve all of it.”
You hum as he looks up at you from under his lashes. He kisses a straight line from one hip to the other, over the waistline of your trousers, which he pulls between his teeth. You laugh, reeling from his softness and his silliness, and wriggle your hips impatiently. He scrambles to get the button and the zip undone, and you writhe around as he pulls the fabric over your thighs, knees, calves, finally pulling it off your feet and throwing it to join the mess already scattered across your living room floor. His hands leave goosebumps in their wake and you cave for him, body drawn to his carnally. 
“G’na show you how proud I am,” he tells you gently, his hands framing your hips. He tugs at the faded cotton of your underwear and you nod for him, desperate for whatever he’s about to give you. There’s a chill from the open window and it distracts you from whatever he does with your pants - you squeeze your thighs together to hide from the cold and he tuts, tinged with something condescending but entirely playful. Prising your knees apart, he leaves kisses on his journey, up the warmth of the insides of your legs and past where you want him. He kisses your hip, and then the other, and when he looks up at you, he says, “Good girls get rewards, hm?”
You keen, whining again, eyes squeezing shut because he’s taunting you, teasing, and it’s unfair. But then his fingers find yours and he holds your hand tight, squeezing, as he kisses between your thighs.
The moan that rips from you is ungodly. You feel him echo it and the vibration is just as sweet. His mouth is everywhere at first, uncoordinated and frenzied, until he settles where he always does. His tongue makes tender shapes around your clit, drawing whimpers from you, and then you feel the fingers of his free hand.
It’d been around your thigh, rings twinkling in the light of the lamp on the sideboard. Now, though, it’s slinking underneath and joining his mouth. He prods gently until he finds what he’s looking for, and breaches you with two cautious digits. You’re fussing, a darling mix of giggles and whines, fingers pulling less than kindly at his hair now, moving him as you please. His fingers curl in a come-hither gesture inside your walls, encouraging the precipice; his mouth, his tongue, is kindling flame with obscene noises that you’re quickly going deaf to as the blood pumps quicker, thicker. You can feel him trying to dirty talk against your wet, but it’s no use. You couldn’t hear him even if your eardrums weren’t buried beneath rushing, because he’s too preoccupied to make himself audible. He’s doing his favourite thing, and he’s so nearly got you there.
“Eddie,” you moan, “please.”
He hums in response and adds a third finger, slow and attentive just in case, but you’re loving it. The electric current is sizzling around your centre, your stomach tightening in knots, and god, you’re nearly there.
Eddie lifts himself from you and your displeased whine is interrupted by his thumb replacing his tongue. He pushes deft circles there, in rhythm with his fingers.
“You’re so good,” he tells you, “So smart and strong, you’re such a clever girl.”
He shifts up the couch to your level, his hand still busy.
“‘M so close,” you tell him in a whisper. He kisses your cheek and the corner of your right eye, where a tear has broken loose and is making a run for it down your temple. “So close, Eds.”
“I know, baby. I’ve got you, hm? Gonna come for me?”
You make a gorgeous, strangled noise as you do, riding his hand and chasing his mouth with your own. You taste yourself and lingering peppermint until you can’t kiss him back any more because you’re gasping for air and telling him Eds, enough, please.
He retreats gently and brings his hand up to his mouth. You look at him from under drooping eyelids as he goes all salacious and dramatic, all three fingers in his mouth like it’s nothing. It’s stupid, because he’s winding you up again, but he’s so damn good at it. The sight is downright erotic and you keen, eyes widening in want.
“Hm?” he hums, pulling his hand away. “What d’ya want, pretty girl?”
You say nothing, choosing instead to open your own mouth, tongue sitting happily on your bottom lip. He smiles down at you and relents, laying two fingers on your tongue. You take them between your lips happily and suck, eyes fluttering closed, as you feel him shifting beside you. You take your cue, using your free hands to tug at his sweats. He’s hard as stone, prodding you through the soft jersey, and you’re desperate to feel it for real.
He moves to help you as you pull them down to mid-thigh, low enough that you can get your greedy hands on what you want. You hear him suck in a breath as you wrap around him and slide up and down, up and down, pleasantly humming around his fingers.
“Shit,” he hisses, “gotta- Shit, gotta stop, I gotta get inside you.”
Never one to deny him, you let him have his hand back so he can rest himself over you. He takes your thigh in one, lifting it up to his hip, as you continue to reach down and line him up.
“You ready?” he asks quietly, mouth by your ear.
“Mm-hmm,” you hum.
Eddie decides here, as he pushes into you, that he’s going to treat you like you’ve just had a promotion every single day for the rest of your life. He concludes that this is what you deserve, to be handled tenderly like this, and nothing less.
“Christ,” he pants, “I- fuck, I’m so proud of you, god-”
“Eddie,” you whimper, “please move, fuck, I-”
“You’re so good,” he repeats. It doesn’t stop, the praises - he calls you every word he can think of: amazing, incredible, smart, clever, pretty, tight. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you breathe, high on his devotion.
“Good girl,” he says as he pulls back. He thrusts in quicker and rougher, but his words are too kind to think he’s anything but a boy in love. “How’d I land you, huh? Amazing girl, so clever.”
You’re going dumb on him, mouth agape, so he seizes his chance. He taps your cheek lightly, just once.
“Open up.”
You open your mouth wider, knowing what’s coming and greedy for it. You stick your tongue out again and he replaces his two fingers, but you’re too far gone to suck, so he leaves them there, heavy and grounding.
It riles the tightening in your stomach and you arch your back into him as he thrusts in, out, in, out, a steady rhythm that matches the pretty grunts he’s making above you.
“Eddie,” you breathe, “I’m so- I’m close again, fuck-”
“Can feel it,” he says, “so tight, shit, feels so good.”
“You’re so deep,” you whine, “can feel y’in my guts, fuck.”
He groans at this. “Shit, sugar, y’can’t say shit like that, g’na come.”
“Please, wanna feel it, Eds.”
He’s stuttering, hips faltering, the fingers in your mouth unsteady so he removes them and uses the wet from your tongue to ease the friction on your clit. His hand travels down and when he finds purchase there, he moans, feeling you tighten around him at the contact.
“Fucking hell-”
“G’na come, Eds,” you manage.
“Come on,” he encourages, “Come again, fuck, y’can do it. Know you can.”
It’s getting hotter, hotter, hotter, winding and winding and snapping before you can warn him. You come hard and quick, limbs going limp and teeth biting deep into your bottom lip as you moan. He keeps going, eyes opening to check over you for any sign that he should stop but he finds none before he goes, too.
“Shit, Eds-”
“Christ-”
You feel him stiffen and rest on you as he paints your insides. He’s panting just as hard as you are and your skin is slick with sweat and spit.
He pulls out gently, easing you through it when you whimper at the feeling, and settles with his face at your chest. As you heave breaths, you stroke the damp hairs away from his forehead.
“Fucking hell,” he says again. You giggle.
“Thank you,” you say softly.
He shifts so his chin rests on your breastbone. “For what?”
“For being so lovely.”
You see his already flushed cheeks brighten with a new redness. “Shut up,” he says, smiling and resting back on his cheek.
“I’m serious.”
“Just proud of you ‘s’all.”
“Thank you,” you repeat.
After a few minutes of quiet, save for your breathing and the hum of the fridge on the other side of the wall, he lifts himself up to rest on his forearms.
“How’s a celebratory takeout sound?”
You open your eyes and look at him. He’s staring down at you, wide, brown eyes like ebony. His cheeks are still flushed pink and his hair’s a state.
“Chinese?”
“Anything you want.”
He leans down and gives you a quick kiss before he lifts himself off the couch. He’s only gone for a flash, and returns wearing new sweats and a t-shirt. He brings you your favourite pyjamas, fresh out of the wash, and a damp cloth. After he’s cleaned you up, you hop to the bathroom to pee.
The clothes are gone from the floor when you return. You pull on thick socks and listen to Eddie on the phone in the kitchen, reciting your order to the kind lady at the local Chinese restaurant. It arrives quickly, with a bottle of wine you didn’t know about, and you eat noodles and drink with him on the couch while you tell him about your meeting.
“Here you go,” he says, handing you a small foil package.
You tear it open and he does the same. You look at him and he nods, so you crack open the cookie to pull out the paper inside.
“The one you love is closer than you think,” you recite. Eddie looks up at you.
“How can I be closer?” he asks, brows furrowing, looking down at where your legs are resting on his lap. “You’re practically sat on top of me.”
“You were just inside me,” you say, smiling at the way Eddie rolls his eyes. “C’mon, what’s yours say?”
He looks down at the paper held between his fingers and grins. “Before you receive, you must give.”
You laugh, loudly, and he looks back at you.
“Well,” he says, leaning over to put his plate on the floor, “I did give, so…”
You gasp and swat at his arm, but you can’t help grinning. Your cheeks are aching again, your chest glowing golden with love. He holds your calf with one hand, squeezing, and reaches the other up to hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger.
“I really am proud of you, y’know.”
“I know.”
“You deserve it. I’ve never known anyone who works as hard as you do.” He curls a stray piece of hair behind your ear and you give, leaning into his palm and letting your eyes close. “Wanna go to bed?”
“Mm-hmm. Will y’carry me?”
“On one condition,” he says through a sly smile. You open one eye and narrow it, glaring at him.
“What?”
“You make my fortune come true in the morning.”
You bite down a smile and close your eyes again.
“Nice try, hot stuff.”
-
419 notes · View notes
cptnleviackerman · 3 months
Text
╰─▸ ❝ Levi Ackerman ❞ ˋ*ੈ*⁀➷
content - gn reader has passed out (unspecified reason), levi is worried for them + cares for them when they wake
words - 700
Tumblr media
"look at me." levi whispers, his voice strained. he presses a cold compress to your head, beads of water trickle down his hands and his fingertips feel numb from the iciness, but he hasn't dared to move since you fell. the fear for your wellbeing eating him alive, rooting him to the spot next to you.
your eyes flutter, barely open long enough for you to get a glimpse of the man above you.
"angel, please, i need you to look at me." levi pleads, his free hand is clamped down on your upper arm, hard enough that you'd feel the need to scold him if you were more awake.
your eyes flutter again, but this time you manage to force them to stay open. the light floods your sight and you try to move a hand up to block the bright beams that hit you, but you find that your arms are achy, and when you try to move them they feel more like dead weight than something attached to your body.
"wha—" you begin, but levi cuts you off before you have the chance to say more.
"don't speak. i need you to take a sip from this glass of water, angel. can you sit up?”
you hum, but when you try to follow through on levi's request your head spins. you had managed to sit halfway up by yourself, but you fell backwards again as soon as you reached level head height with levi—who was still knelt next to you, the compress discarded and his other hand pressed firmly on your lower back.
“it's okay, it's okay, take your time.” levi’s voice soothes your racing thoughts, but you can hear the worry slip through the cracks, the recognisable signs of tension on his face are noticeable now that you have your eyes trained on him, and it makes you feel unreasonably guilty.
“im sorry.” you whisper, your voice small. but levi isn't having it, he shakes his head at you, gently pushing your back upwards and towards him so that you can lean your body against his for support.
“don't be silly. now drink this.”
levi brings the glass to your lips, and you shakily rest your hands on top of his, taking small sips of the icy cool liquid. you hear gentle whispers of encouragement from the man next to you, which brings a slight smile to your lips.
levi brings the glass away from you after only a few sips, not wanting to overdo it, and he places the glass on the ground next to his leg.
he wraps his arms around you, pulling you slowly towards his chest. his mind is beginning to settle now that you are conscious and talking again, but he can still feel remnants of his anxiety clawing its way through his head, the terror not yet subsiding completely, and his need to have you as close to his body as he can overwhelms him.
he presses a hand to your forehead, testing your temperature. when he finds that you're not burning up he takes a small breath of relief, and he allows himself a minute reprive from worrying as he buries his face in your hair. while taking your hand in his, he begins to rub circles on your thumb, and you hum at the contact. levi welcomes this reminder that you're okay, and he takes another breath of relief.
“you scared me for a moment there.” levi murmurs against your head. you feel his arms tighten around your body, and your eyes squeeze shut at the comforting contact. you bring the hand still clasped by levis upwards, and place a soft kiss to the back of it.
“i know. I'm sorry.” you whisper in return.
the two of you sit like that on the floor for what feels like hours, levi doesn't dare move you and you can't bring yourself to ask him to, since he seems wracked with his own guilt and worry. so you sit, wrapped in his embrace, occasionally taking sips of water—the ice long since melted.
Tumblr media
237 notes · View notes
cheese-water · 2 months
Text
Now that Slime has met and loves Sunny, I need her to show him her mermaid ma. I just need to know his reaction to his daughter playing pretend with her mother’s corpse. Like would he feel guilty? Or despair at the sight? Would he try to play along or tell her the truth?
Would he realize that the same thing his new daughter doing is what he’s been doing with his old daughter for months? Will he become hypocrite or will he believe that Lenay’s legs have been stolen too?
164 notes · View notes
bongwateriero · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
HELLO
789 notes · View notes
bloompompom · 8 months
Note
HELLO I don’t know if you take requests but I LOVED that post you made today from the ask so if you do, I was thinking about what Eren would be like if reader called/texted him while he was at work and teased him over the phone by touching themselves? YOU ABSOLUTELY DONT HAVE TO DO THIS IF YOU DONT WANT I just love how you write Eren you are one of my favorite writers for him
hehe i wouldn't say i often take requests but i'll entertain if something tickles me. i'll always say yes to you though, especially because you asked so nicely🤍
content: ~1.5k word count. husband!eren x female!reader. nudes, phone sex, semi-public masturbation, light degradation, 18+ only.
Tumblr media
eren didn't want to go to work, believe him. who actually wants to go to work, anyway? despite his convincing, you were still acting as if he wanted to leave your side, pouting in bed when he wouldn't spoon you for 'just one more minute' because he knew it would turn into ten.
as much as he wished he could stay home and spend the day with you, he couldn't. he couldn't even risk running behind this morning because his day was to start at nine o'clock sharp, stacked full with back-to-back meetings. but based on the look you shot him on his way out the door, eren had a feeling you were about to make his long day a whole lot longer.
he had only been at work for about an hour before you texted. enjoying your day without me? the message, though it made him roll his eyes, was innocent enough. but that didn't last long.
during his second meeting of the day, already dragging by slower than the first, eren felt his phone vibrate against his thigh. he didn't need to look to know it was another message from you, especially after it buzzed again, taunting him.
just a peek wouldn't hurt, he thought, i don't even have to reply right away. the meeting was being held over video call; no one would even know if he checked his phone.
face trained straight ahead, directly toward the monitor, he slipped his phone from his pocket. in short bursts, he flitted his eyes down to unlock his phone, then again to swipe to your messages. he tried his best to be subtle with it.
miss me yet?
below it, in a separate message, a photo of you.
yes, he tried to be subtle with it, but he failed. big time.
eyes widened in shock, eren darted a hand out to shut his camera off. he hastily blamed it on technical difficulties, all the while, he was responding to you in frenzy.
baby, you cannot be doing this to me right now. you know i’m in an important meeting!
he watched—more like gawked at the image—as you quickly typed out, call me after ♡
by the look of it, you were still lounged in bed, right where he had left you. the only thing that changed was that you now wore next to nothing. barely covered by your thin bedsheet, eren admired your form.
he had seen you like this, countless times. he had learned every curve beneath his fingertips so intimately that he could draw you off memory alone if he had the knack for it. but there was something different—perhaps something more special—about the sight when you had captured it on camera for him. knowing you settled back into your shared bed, the one he devotedly fucked you in near-nightly, spread your pretty pussy, and snapped a photo with no one but him clouding your thoughts.
eren couldn't help but stare for a minute, maybe longer. the meeting had fizzled into nothing more than white noise. if someone were to call his name right now, he doubted he'd hear it. he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so flustered, but even after all the years spent together, you still managed to have that effect on him whether he liked it or not.
it was obvious you were up to no good—practically asking for trouble, except he was the one who'd inevitably take the fall for it. he didn't have the time to call you unless he wished to have his boss chew him out. even so, he found himself stumbling into your trap. he was only human, after all; he wasn't above thinking with his dick from time to time. so he rang you between meetings, justifying it by calling with only a single earbud in, foolishly convinced he could multitask while on the phone with you.
after a few rings, you answered. at least, eren was pretty sure you answered. the line was silent. there was a split second where he thought the call had dropped. as he started to say your name, he was interrupted. he heard soft breaths on the other end of the phone. tiny noises, like hums and huffs through your nose. eren's mouth ran dry.
"ah—i need you," you breathed, gasped. "i couldn't wait for you to get home."
you feigned innocence as you said it, your voice sweetened up as if you were truly helpless. but your husband knew you better than that; he knew he didn't have a demure little wife waiting for him at home, but fuck, did he find it hot. so he'd always fall for the act anyway.
caught up in it, eren's fingertips ghosted over his keyboard with a slight tremble. his eyes were on his computer screen, but the documents were blurry and out of focus. everything was blurry and out of focus, except you of course.
he needed to know what you were doing to yourself. did you have your vibrator? if so, which one did you choose? or had you decided to use your fingers, circling the pads of them against your clit? maybe you were fingering yourself, knuckles deep but whining for more, growing wetter by the second as you dreamt of his fingers—how they could reach places yours couldn't.
before he could ask—discover if you were grinding against your hand or his pillow—the door to his office flew open.
“jaeger, i—"
eren jolted, almost to a comical degree, and his co-worker rightfully laughed, offhandedly commenting how he didn't seem the type to startle easily. eren spoke with him—well, tried to speak with him. it was a challenge because he still had you in his ear, moaning now, louder than before. you were asking where he had gone, begging for him to talk you through it—to tell you every dirty thing he wanted to do to you.
eren couldn't repeat a word his co-worker had said to him. he only waited for him to finish, cleared his throat, and told him to close the door on his way out. eren then marked out for lunch, hoping it would buy him some time.
whether it was his sense of decency or self-control that snapped first, eren wasn't sure. but when you cried out his name, he could no longer stop himself from reaching for his cock, throbbing to be touched by you. his hand would have to suffice for now.
cursing both you and himself, he tugged his slacks down to the middle of his thighs, just low enough that he could touch himself, too. eren thumbed over the leaky tip of his cock, hissing in a tangled mix of relief and utter humiliation. he couldn't believe you had brought him to his knees like this. succumbing to jerking himself at work had to be a new low, even for him.
"what a needy little thing you are," eren spoke into the phone. his voice was quiet but guttural and deeply authoritative. "thinking you can interrupt my workday just so i can help get you off."
he made it sound like a burden, but he only fisted his cock faster.
"yes," you moaned, drawing out the simple word as if it were longer than just the syllable. you were babbling now, talking to him exactly how he liked. "fuck, i'm your needy little thing—your needy little slut."
his brain short-circuited then and there, incapacitating him to the point where he could only mutter on about how fucking hot you were between breaths, squeezing his cock as if his hand could ever compare to you.
you were close; he could hear it when you whimpered, "eren—"
“that’s right," he cut in. he was right there with you. "only think about me when you come. think about coming all over my cock like a good girl."
with his free hand, eren pulled up the picture you sent him, staring at you while your moans became strained and choppy on the other end of the phone. such a perfect pussy, he thought, like it was made just for him.
your breath hitched in your throat, the final tell-tale sign that you were coming undone.
“that's it. come for me, baby." he needed to finish when you did. he stroked himself, not minding the squeak in his chair as he quickened his pace. "i wanna hear it—god, i need to hear you."
one last sob, ripped right from the pit of your lungs, and eren came with you. his stomach tightened, eyes screwing shut, as he toppled over the edge of his release. he pumped himself through it, even when it was nearly too much, until he knew you had stopped twitching and were blissfully lazed in bed.
only then did he come to his senses again, swearing under his breath when he realized his situation—the mess he made across his phone, not to mention on his slacks.
you were giggling into the phone now; eren could hear your breathless smile in it. there was no returning to work now, was there?
"fine. you win," he surrendered with a sigh. he logged out of his computer. "i'll be home in thirty minutes."
282 notes · View notes
cleewii · 11 months
Text
rating: R18+
cw(s): 18+ content/MINORS DNI. sub! izuku, dom+gn! reader, izuku is into being called your wife, everyone is sort of a freak here
Tumblr media Tumblr media
wanna make a housewife outta IZUKU.
i mean, it’s all just teasing at first. the occasional comment meant to pull that rosiness out of his cheeks whenever he makes you dinner or does your laundry for you.
“you’d make a good wife, izuku.” paired with a laugh that grows with the way his face blooms afterwards.
it’s all jokes, and he knew you didn’t mean anything by it, but slowly the jokes become more and more frequent. calling him your trophy wife, cute little housewife, telling him how pretty a ring would look on his finger.
when you have him laying against your chest, comfortable between your thighs, the jokes keep coming, even after you’ve already fucked him tender and dumb.
“y’could be my cute lil’ wife, you know.”
the soft feel of your lips against his skin has him shuddering a bit. the feeling only just feathers along his neck, then below his ear, until eventually your pressing kisses trailing across his temple.
“just stay home and look pretty f’me. never have to do all that horrible hero work.” your finger slides down from his soft cheek to his chin, turning his head to face you, all the while he’s staring into your eyes with a glazed over, fucked out expression that has a smile spreading across your face. “wouldn’t you like that, honey?”
“uh huh,” he nods, though the words aren’t reaching his brain. there’s only the light post-orgasm buzz warming him up inside, not a single thought can come through. he’d say yes to anything you’d propose right now, because in his eyes you’re divine, and he is nothing if not devoted to you. “please…”
“sweet thing,” you coo, “of course you would.”
“i’d get home from work n’ you’d be makin’ dinner while wearing that pretty ring i’d get you. as a present, i could bend you over the counter and fuck you on it, just like that…wouldn’t that be nice?”
the blood is starting to make its way back into his cock, and all he can do is stare wide eyed and stupid.
“could dress you up all nice and introduce you to my boss ‘n coworkers. And when we leave the party i’ll screw your pretty brains out in the backseat of the car for being so good f’me.”
you giggle a little, and it’s a sound so delicate and innocent he can hardly wrap his head around the filth coming out of your mouth. but that doesn’t stop the way it twists him up inside and leaves him squirming against you.
“bet you’d love that, huh baby?”
“Y-yes…yeah…oh—,” he groans. “please.” his face is starting to get hot, the rest of his body is already beginning to ache with the need searing in is cock. your words paint pictures in his mind that almost leaves spit trailing under his chin, and he’s not quite sure what to do. beg, cry, whine, it’s horrible, the way you toy with him. “please!”
“what’re you sayin’ please for?” Your fingers trail over his bare chest and teas across his pert nipples. “c’mon angel. use your words.”
“f-fuck…fuck me….!” he gasps. “please! make me…make me yours I—I wan’ it! i wan’ it! wanna be y—yours! please…please…please!”
“yeah? you wanna be mine that bad?”
“yes! oh…oh fuck—! yes!”
“but you’re already mine.” you press a kiss to his cheek. “tell me what you really want.”
his breath catches in his throat and it comes out a strangled whine, one that forces another shade of pink across his face.
‘what you really want’ it’s absurd, it’s embarrassing, but the longer you tease him the more he unravels, and he can feel himself slipping. “don’t—“
“oh c’mon angel…humor me won’t you?”
his lips press together tight as he stares at your hands, which lay on either side of his hip bones, thumbs tracing light circles against his skin. it’s a tantalizing feeling, a dull ache forming in his chest that threatens to bubble up into his throat, and he’s trying with the last threads of self control he has left to keep it at bay.
“do you hate the idea that much?”
“no!” he cries, shaking his head like he’s desperate. “n—no I….I��.”
it’s too much. this feeling is too much, your touch is too much, the idea is too much.
But he loves it. he holds onto it like a secret he’ll only share with himself, but with you prodding this way, he’s worried he’ll spill.
He just can’t admit that he loves the joke a little too much.
Tumblr media
963 notes · View notes
ryssbelle · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
Shockothan Dory
104 notes · View notes
deikyrio · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
Girl dinner
176 notes · View notes
sweetpapercroissant · 4 months
Text
MASSIVE side eye to people who write sam as this extremely sensitive teenager who doodles hearts in his diary that he also writes poetry in and cries at every second thing because on the one hand you do you write for yourself and no one else but also that guy was the bitchiest angstiest angriest teenager on earth who screams at his father barely restrains himself from decking that one jerk at every school they go to and sneers at dean for being too emotional especially about his family
122 notes · View notes
gardenofnoah · 1 year
Text
kirishima has always been looked at as strong and commanding—always larger than life and in control—so he has no idea what to do when he’s pined underneath you and at the mercy of the way you play his body like a well-tuned instrument.
he’s out of his depth and feels half out of his mind as the tip of your tongue drags over his hip bone. you’re touching him everywhere—fingers bruising against his waist, his thighs, his calves—he knows that you are taking from him in a way that no one has ever, and he’s giving all of it to you willingly.
“b-baby,” and it’s stuttered and breathless as he feels your teeth sink into the skin of his inner thigh—he fights the urge to harden his skin subconsciously over the pain because it’s so good and he wants to feel all of it—
“so good, Eij—“ you coo into his skin, dragging the plush of your lips over the trails of raised, reddened skin your nails leave behind as you move down his body, “you’re so good, letting me play with you like this.”
to his shock, his hips kick at your works, completely enthralled by the notion of being a play thing for you—of giving in, of going soft for the first time in his life—
he feels your fingers dig into the muscle of his calves and has to shut his eyes so you don’t see them roll back into his head. the foreignness of his own submission is wearing off now—replaced by the heavy, slippery feeling of needing you, of leaning into this space where he can just be worshipped by you and know that you will be there to hold him through it.
you climb back up his body and he savors the feeling of your weight on him—pressing him into the sheets, the tension in him bleeding out from where your skin meets his—and he lets out a pitiful whine when your nails scrape over the taut muscles of his belly. can’t help it when his hips buck into yours, but feels the need to apologize anyway, because what’s happening right now feels so far removed from his own base desire to be buried inside you. this feels too refined, like more luxury than he deserves, and he feels like a neanderthal.
“it’s okay Eij,” you reassure him, and something inside him goes molten at the way you forgive him, love him— “i know it feels good. you can take what you need to, my love.”
and he shakes his head at that, frantically, because he doesn’t want to take. he doesn’t want control of this—he wants you to hold his pride in your hands and turn it into something malleable and fluid. he can’t trust himself to speak—he presses his palms into the bed and tips his head back, baring his throat to you, just hoping, begging you to understand—
he feels you take one of his hands in yours, feels you bring it to your face and press your smile into the inside of his wrist, nipping at the sensitive skin, sucking it into your mouth gently and laving your tongue over it.
“i see,” you murmur, and it sends a shudder up his spine so violent he feels his toes curl. your eyes rake over his body as you drag your free hand up his chest. he has to remember how to breathe when your fingers circle around the base of his throat.
“you’re such a good boy, Eijiro.”
636 notes · View notes
sphnyspinspin · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
Oh hey Thrash is here
.
.
.
WAIT THRASH IS HERE?!—
242 notes · View notes
evil-ontheinside · 2 years
Text
After Ted and Karen get divorced the Wheelers get a cat. He has a totally normal and respectable name at the beginning but after a week the kids start to call him Teddy in remembrance of their dad ("he's not dead, why are you like this?")
Mike starts to tell him what a great dad he is whenever Karen is around. He gets especially dramatic about it when she has a bad day. She's not sure if she should reprimand him or laugh.
She cracks when one morning she finds the normal cat bowl replaced with one that says 'best dad ever'. (Mike also gets her a cup with the same on it bc she's been parenting them alone the whole time, she deserves both titles)
Will is a little worried about Mike at first bc he still remembers how it was with his dad and Mike's been a little quiet ever since but then he sees him make a father's day present for the cat and decides he's gonna be alright
Dustin is always overly polite to 'Mr. Wheeler' whenever he's around and tells him how much he respects and appreciates him and all the work he does around the house
Ted doesn't know any of this but Mike slips up one time and calls the cat dad while he and Holly are over for the mandatory visits. Ted doesn't get it but Holly can't stop giggling for the rest of the time and Mike makes sure to make little 'mistakes' like that around Ted to see how much he can get away with. Ted never gets it but Holly is lying on the floor laughing as soon as they get home. Karen is suspicious but the two refuse to tell her what's so funny
Nancy doesn't seem too invested in the whole thing at first but then she replaces Ted's face in the family picture with Teddy's (it took her and Jonathan hours to take the perfect picture so it would fit but it was worth it). Karen didn't notice at first and then has to awkwardly explain the situation to Mrs. Sinclair when she comes over for coffee. Mike loses it every time he walks past the picture
1K notes · View notes