#THIS is natural to them. its inconvenient to YOU

[tahwarts]

people actually forget that phones before smartphones didnt have headphone jacks!!! like all those nokias youre nostalgic about and my old ass sony ericsson phone that opened by rotating that even tho it branded itself as a walkman phone you had to use a clunky ass adapter in the charging port. (although it did come with it when you bought it, at least.) iphone giveth iphone taketh away i guess

[coddda]

I wish we could have met in some other way.

Lawlight Week Day 2: Soulmates

If you saw me repost and re-edit this several times uh No you didn't </3

Still frames/Individual gifs:

If you know what every frame is from you get a free cookie. by the way

[skrunksthatwunk]

hey real quick bc i haven't seen anyone really talk about it; fuck Hoarders. what a disgusting fucking show. like i know a lotta content boils down to "let's gawk at mentally ill or poor or whatever ppl" but this one specifically really peels my paint. it's sickening. let's spend an hour walking around someone's house and going "wow!! look how fucked this is!!! i can't believe you live like this (despite having done like 13 seasons of this)!!!! you really need to get your act together, buster!" and then interviewing the family to get sound bites demonstrating how much of an Unreasonable Burden the subject is and (without actually helping any of the mental health issues that may lead someone to hoard) roll their eyes at them when they are upset at someone taking and trashing/destroying their precious belongings (or are made to do it themselves). and then half the time in the where are they now segment it's like "yeah they relapsed lol idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯" like??? no shit dumbass.

i don't care how strange their homes or habits are. these people are deserving of compassion and real, honest help. they don't need people to marvel at how Kooky Wacky Bonkers™ they are, and they don't need people to hurt them just because they don't understand what they see in their possessions or are embarrassed by knowing them or whatever.

we don't need another voyeuristic savior-complex charade where the condition for The Most Half-Assed Help You've Ever Seen is being publicly humiliated and having to destroy things that mean a lot to you. what the fuck.

[deunmiu-dessie]

ⅴ▬ ⁽ 𝑜𝓇𝒸 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₅˖₇ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, NSFW,  explicit content, teratophilia, orc/royalty!human, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, breeding, spit kink, sloppy kisses, size difference, somnophilia, slight voyeurism, orcish, reader loses all forms of etiquette and just babbles-- stupidly, belly bulge. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: as royalty it's your duty to marry and provide heirs for the kingdom, however, your parents have a different plan for you.

꒰m!orc ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

 𝐹or as long as you can remember, you have been allured by the forbidden. Whenever your parents commanded you to abstain from a certain act or sternly prohibited you from engaging in another, it ignited a fervor within your being. And inevitably, you succumbed to its allure.

Your relationship with your parents was not a harmonious one. From the time you were but a child, they made it abundantly clear that you were not conceived out of their love for one another, but rather out of an obligation to the throne. To them, you were an inconvenience, a mere hindrance that they longed to be rid of. Thus, you existed in a perpetual state of unease, forever uncertain of their next move.

The castle bustled with activity this week, the number of knights seemed to have multiplied, and your encounters with your parents grew scarce. Your daily meals together became non-existent- not that you were complaining. Instead, during supper, they scorned and mocked you—drawing comparisons to your elder cousin who had recently become betrothed to a Duke. You were aware that they would arrange a marriage for you; it was inevitable, but you hoped it would be to someone who would eventually cherish you as you would them.

Verily, this day seemed naught but a replica of the day prior—a day draped in melancholy. The heavens were adorned with clouds of a somber ashy hue, obscuring the radiant sun in its entirety, and permitting but a scant ray of light to penetrate. You lay sprawled on your bed; the clamor from beyond your door kept you from getting any sleep, so you opt to lay there, eyes shut and breathing even.

The two hefty thuds at your door jolt you awake, your eyes snapping to the entrance. A servant girl stood there, her gaze piercing, and her upper lip curled in a sneer. "The King and Queen request your presence for a meal in the dining chamber."

You release a heavy sigh and nod. "Yes, I shall join them shortly, Nadia." she scoffs and closes the door with a soft thud. Rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes, you rose from your bed, slipping into your shoes with a sense of resignation. Hastily, you arranged your disheveled hair and adjusted your attire in the mirror, preparing yourself for the impending encounter. Finally, summoning your resolve, you embarked on the descent towards the dining hall.

 Your stomach churns uncomfortably as you motion towards the knights, fingers twisting nervously as they swing open the heavy oak doors. Stepping into the chamber, you swiftly bow and linger there for a moment, awaiting permission to be seated. "Hail to the Sun and Moon of the realm." Your sire grunts and gestures for you to take a seat; you release a shaky breath and settle across from your mother, who pays you no mind.

Within the dining hall, a profound stillness prevails, accompanied solely by the gentle clatter of utensils upon porcelain plates. You dare to disrupt the silence, your heart constricting within your breast, burdened by your uneasiness. " Pray tell, have I heard true? Have the demons breached the borders, causing mayhem? Is that why the ranks of the noble knights have swelled in recent days?"

The older man looks up from his meal, steely eyes on your face. "I did not deem you astute enough to discern matters of such nature, but aye, it is true. The Orcs shall breach the barrier if we do not do something. The knights from Tvatian shall not grace us with their presence for a week's time, yet our defenses wane with each passing moment."

The sound of your mother's throat being cleared reverberates through the air, abruptly drawing your eyes towards her. "You shall soon attain the age of twenty, my dear. Do you have any intentions of entering into wedlock?" Her voice possesses a cloying sweetness, signifying her ulterior motives; she is forever scheming. As you carefully place your knife and fork on the table, you grant her your undivided focus. "Aye, mother," you reply, your words tinged with a touch of uncertainty.

With a disapproving click of her tongue, she gracefully lifted her goblet to her lips, attempting to conceal the mischievous grin that flickered across her features. "Verily, a little bird has whispered in my ear that Orcs take pleasure in having humans as mere playthings, using them as harlots and passing them amongst themselves. How dreadful."

 Your hands clench beneath the table, and you struggle to suppress the bile that threatens to rise. Your heart thumps sporadically in your chest, almost painfully. What is she implying? "Pray tell, what is the essence of your words?"

"The royal family's expectations are not to be taken lightly, my child. If you persist in shirking your responsibilities by avoiding marriage and offspring, alternative measures must be considered. You shall be delivered to the head Orc at the border; mayhap that will pacify them until the Tavatian knights arrive." Your father had spoken this time, causing you to swiftly turn your gaze towards him. Tears welled up in your eyes, and a soft laughter escaped your lips. "Pray, father, assure me that you jest."

The answer lies within his silence. Your hands collide with the table, your head sways vehemently from side to side. "Nay, nay! You shall not subject me to this. What offense have I caused thee? I have obeyed all your commands unquestioningly, and you are planning to— Nay, I shall not proceed."

As the succulent salmon dances on her fork, your mother's laughter fills the air, resonating with a warmth that belies the gravity of her words. "My dear child, you find yourself bereft of options. You shall be deemed a traitor to the noble lineage and condemned to perish before your very birthday." A lump lodges itself in your throat, and tears stream down your face, as you rue the moment you stepped out of your room. "For what reason do you bear such animosity towards me?"

"Escort her back to her chamber; she's giving me indigestion," your mother states with a grimace.  The knights pause briefly, uncertain of how to guide you away. Dismissing them with a wave of your hand, you rise from your chair and exit the chamber, tears clouding your sight. The journey back is unsettling, with the maids gossiping and gesturing, their disdain evident on their faces, and their disapproving gazes following you.

The door is forcefully slammed shut behind you, and with great urgency, your feet carry you to your bed, where you collapse with a heavy sigh. Almost immediately, your pillow becomes saturated with the tears that pour forth, and you huddle into yourself, simply becoming smaller. 

  Indeed, you knew this would occur eventually, but you hadn't thought you would be handed over to some hideous monster who would likely slay you upon arrival. Violent sobs wrack your body, shaking you to the core, while your nose runs uncontrollably, the pillow muffles a scream of agony.

After half an hour had passed, you lay there, sleep welcoming you with warm arms. The answer to this puzzle would reveal itself upon your awakening.

—

Woken by the sound of shuffling, faint whispers, and delicate clinks, you remain motionless, filled with trepidation, and unwilling to stir from your position. You quickly clench your eyes shut upon hearing the intruder approach. As much as you desired to confront them, you were also intrigued to uncover their intentions within your room.

"Seize her limbs; we must transport her to the dungeon." In an instant, your heart falters, trembling fiercely, and for a moment, your breath is held captive. As your eyes snap open, the ceiling of your chamber looms above you. Swiftly, you strike at the person nearest to you, expressing gratitude to the gods as you hear their curse.

Emerging hastily from the confines of your bed, you sprint towards the exit, a shrill cry escaping your lips as a hand clutches your ankle. You descend abruptly, your chin colliding with the cold marble beneath, silently expressing gratitude for the prudent act of placing your tongue against the roof of your mouth in the final moments.

   Swiftly flipping over, you kick frantically, tears streaming down your face as your legs are forcefully spread apart, and the assailant inserts themselves between your thighs, seizing hold of your arms.

Your vision blurs as a heavy slap is brought across your face. The brief respite from your struggle grants the assailants the opportunity to lay a cloth upon your nostrils. Your eyes flutter shut, darkness casting a shadow upon your vision. The feel of your body being lifted is the only thing you remember.

Within the confines of the cell, you find yourself in a state of contemplation, your head gently leaning against the cold metal bars. The sharp sound of heels striking the ground causes you to straighten up. The passage of time remains elusive, yet the atmosphere hints at the arrival of a new day, shrouded in the quiet of dawn.

Your mother's face came into view, causing you to sneer in disdain as you buried your head in your knees, refusing to meet her gaze. The very sound of her voice sent shivers down your spine, igniting a mixture of anger and sorrow within you. She callously auctioned you off, displaying a complete lack of concern for your well-being.

"I reckoned it would be preferable for you to don your best attire, but it would be futile. A watchman shall be present shortly to guide you to the border, make no disturbance, do you understand? 'Twould be unsightly if you do."

You ignore her, but deep down, you are filled with dread to venture towards the border. You longed to weep and plead with her to refrain from sending you, but it would only wound your pride. Instead, she smiles and draws nigh unto the prison bars. "When we emerge victorious in this war, and if you are still breathing, I shall dispatch you to a brothel. I couldn't possibly have such a defiled child. Revel in your sojourn there, my dear."

The clatter-clack of her footwear slowly vanishing into the distance brings forth a torrent of tears. Why must this befall you? What sin have you committed to warrant such treatment? The jingle-jangle of keys catches your attention; the guard stands before you with a look of pity. "Your majesty, the time has arrived."

You nod in a pitiful manner and rise from the ground, using your soiled hands to dry your tears, leaving traces of dirt on your cheeks. As you draw near to the guard,  he pulls down his sleeve and tenderly wipes your cheeks with a sympathetic smile. You bow softly in gratitude and proceed to walk with him to the carriage.

He assists you inside and closes the door; a click prompts you to peer through the tiny gap. A lock secures the door; as you lock eyes with the guard, he merely sighs and shakes his head. "The Queen has requested this. I beg your pardon, Your Majesty." 

  You remain silent, leaning back in the seat and staring blankly at the castle. You see your father standing at his office window, observing. You avoid his gaze, curling up in the seat. Then, as the carriage sets in motion, your heart swells, and tears flow.

The carriage's abrupt jolt awakens you from your nap; the sun is just beginning to descend, signaling the end of a day filled with endless riding. The only noise is the steady trot of the horses and the occasional whisper of the soldiers. Have you arrived already? You swallow nervously and flinch as the door is forcefully opened. "We have arrived, your highness."

You nod and sit up, clasping his hand to disembark from the carriage. Your eyes swiftly survey the surroundings. Despite the tales, the border seemed relatively serene. You couldn't hear anything from beyond the wall. At length, a throat is cleared,  causing you to look up, and the guard beckons you along. You hesitate for only a moment before fortifying your resolve and walking forward.

After much anticipation, the distant voices grow more distinct. "Captain, 'tis here! Shall we unseal the gates?" The clamor of the ponderous wheels turning and ascending is loud in your ears. The gate opens enough to allow your passage beneath. They weren't wasting time at all. The guard places a hand on your lower back and pushes you forward gently. "The Orc General has agreed to receive you; he's on the other side waiting."

You suppress the lump in your throat and proceed, every gaze fixed upon you. The wall loomed thick and intimidating,  and you couldn't shake off the fear of it collapsing on you as you reached the other side. However, as you eventually crossed over, your gaze locked with his.

Standing tall at a minimum of 9 feet, he possessed a powerful build adorned with thick muscles, and hair decorating his chest. Dark brown hair cascaded down to his waist woven into an intricate braid, contrasting against his pear-colored complexion and a thick beard enveloped his jaw. Scars crisscrossed his body, enhancing his rugged charm.  Despite his blunt tusks, one of which was slightly chipped, there was no denying the outrageous attractiveness of this Orc.

As he takes a step forward, an instinctual reflex compels you to retreat, a shiver of trepidation coursing through your being. Your legs, heavy as if forged from lead, refuse to heed your desperate plea for escape. A subtle chuckle escapes his lips, the corners curling upwards in a smug grin. "Time is not a luxury I possess, little human," he mocks, his voice dripping with impatience. 

  You part your lips to utter a response, but only silence greets your futile attempt. The resounding thud of the closing wall seals your grim destiny, causing your weakened knees to buckle beneath you, surrendering to the tender embrace of the grassy ground. With a deep sigh, he strides towards you, casting a towering shadow over your slumped figure, a chilling reminder of his overpowering presence.

With utmost ease, he effortlessly lifts you, as if you were as light as a feather. Your body tenses in his embrace, a mixture of vulnerability and anticipation. The tears well up, threatening to spill over. Surprisingly, his touch is tender, his hands delicately traversing your legs and back. Summoning your courage, you manage to muster a question, your voice trembling slightly. 

  "Might I inquire about your name?"  Despite your hesitant speech, he pays no mind, his voice resonating with a deep timber that sends a surge of desire coursing through your veins. A flush of warmth spreads across your face, compelling you to avert your gaze and focus on your lap. "I am Loran, the General of the Mammoth Clan."

Silence envelops the air for a fleeting moment before your voice breaks through once more. "My name is (Name)" He acknowledges your introduction with a subtle hum, and together, you navigate through the labyrinthine paths until you arrive at a large tent. With utmost care, he settles you upon a sumptuous bed adorned with furs, then proceeds to position himself near a table, obscuring its contents from your prying eyes. 

  A knot tightens in your throat as you summon the courage to voice your deepest fear. "Might you have intentions of devouring me?" you whisper, recoiling at the childlike vulnerability that tinges on your words.

His laughter causes a flutter in your chest; every aspect of him leaves your insides twisted. At last, he ceases his actions and pivots to meet your gaze, his arms folded. You had to physically remind yourself to avert your eyes from his well-defined muscles. "Would you like me to?" His voice carries a teasing lilt, yet his words hint at something more intimate.

You shake your head in denial and draw your knees closer to your body. He was nothing like the figure you had imagined; you were convinced that your life would have ended by now. Your gaze wanders aimlessly as you delve into your own musings. Unbeknownst to you, he crouches down before you. The calloused tips of his fingers grazing your chin send a shiver down your spine. Your eyes meet his, and you find yourself holding your breath.

"The hour grows late; retire for the night. "

 You offer a silent nod, watching him leave the tent. Following his guidance, you settle back onto the furs. After the tumultuous events of the day, slumber swiftly envelops you, embracing the plush comfort of the bedding.

The warmth seeping into your skin prompts you to wriggle out of the furs. The weight of an arm flung over your stomach arrests you, dread settling in your heart and coiling around it like a vice. Though yesterday's events come rushing back to you and you relax, your tense body melting into Loran's embrace.  

  Despite the circumstances that brought you here, he had shown nothing but kindness, even playfulness - he didin't really make you uneasy, and it seemed as though a burden had been lifted from your shoulders.

In the realm of uncertainty, his actions remained capricious, yet amidst this unpredictability, a newfound liberation enveloped your being, you were free. Loran, with an irresistible allure, draws you nearer, your bodies melding as your front meets his. You place your hands on his chest and gently create distance, huffing as he cuddles closer.

After struggling a bit more, you come to a stop and seize the opportunity to examine him closely. Withdrawing your hand from his chest, you gently place it on his cheek, relishing its velvety texture. Loran possessed a striking appearance. Tracing your fingers along his lips, the sensation of his tusks lightly brushing against your fingertips captivates you once more. Their smoothness leaves you mesmerized. The rounded tips are gentle and harmless; they would not cause any discomfort if you were to share a kiss.

 Blushing with embarrassment, your cheeks turn a rosy hue, and for a fleeting moment, you seek solace by burying your face into his chest. Raising your gaze once more, you cautiously wave your hand before his face, ensuring his continued slumber. With no signs of movement and a steady rhythm of breath, a sigh of relief escapes your lips. 

  Gradually, you shift your position, ascending along his form, while your heart flutters nervously within your chest. With a mixture of fascination and unease, you lean closer, drawn to an inexplicable magnetism emanating from him. His lips, so alluring, entice you irresistibly.

 Placing your hand on his cheek, you lean in with deliberate slowness, capturing his lips with yours. The sensation of his tusks grazing your skin sends a rush of pleasure up your spine. With closed eyes, you deepen the kiss, savoring the unexpected softness of his lips. His taste is intoxicating, akin to a forbidden elixir. You have always been drawn to forbidden pleasures.

With a hint of reluctance, you retreat, allowing your eyes to slowly unveil the world around you. A startled gasp escapes your lips as your gaze meets Loran's. Despite your endeavors to break free from his embrace, his arms encase you like unyielding steel, entrapping you. Loran's chuckle resonates with a profound and drowsy timbre, while his hand ascends to firmly grasp your chin. "Do not flee from me, Sma ni." ( little one )

His lips are on yours, gentle and governing. His other hand gripping your waist and quickly lifting you onto his chest. The sensation of his thick and moist tongue overpowering your mouth elicits a fervent moan from deep within you, while your thighs instinctively clasp around his stomach. As his hands glide up your top, the pads of his fingers diligently work out the tension in your soft skin. Gradually, they find their way to your hips, expertly guiding them to grind against his abdomen.

With a soft whine escaping your mouth, you break the connection of his kiss, and your tongue lazily protrudes, leaving a trail of warm saliva on your chin. A primal growl resonates from deep within his chest, causing your thoughts to blur. Your hands instinctively find their way to his chest, the rough hair gently tickling your palms. The pressure on your hips eases, and his hand tightly grasps your hair, enabling him to sit up and halt the rhythmic grind of your hips.

A soft whimper escapes your lips as the throbbing sensation between your thighs intensifies.  Loran's lips trail along the curve of your throat, delicately nibbling at your tender skin, while his tongue glides with ease. Suddenly, a tearing sound startles you and a rush of cool air caresses your newly bared legs. The remnants of your shredded trousers gracefully descend to the floor, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.

Upon the velvety fur, Loran tenderly positions you, his voracious eyes meticulously exploring the expanse of your body. In a swift motion, he removes the sole obstruction that conceals your body, leaving you vulnerable to his cravings. You clench your thighs, your pussy pulsating with emptiness. This man was sinful; he looked so delectable, his lips shimmering with the remnants of your passionate kisses, and his complexion adorned with a captivating flush.

He lets out a deep groan, settling himself amidst your thighs, the ache in your legs a mere whisper compared to the intensity of his touch, tongue dancing over your nipples, nipping and tugging. Loran's hand travels up your body, his thick fingers entering your warm, wet mouth. You suppress a gag and suck on them shyly, tears welling up in your eyes. As his fingers delve deeper into your throat, you grasp his wrist firmly, your hips grinding against his thick bulge.

Loran pulls his fingers from your mouth, watching the rivulets of saliva drip down his digits. Leaving a glistening trail of moisture along your body, Loran delicately caresses his fingers through the soft curls of hair on your pussy, teasing you with the soft touch of his fingertips. With deliberate precision, he gradually eases one digit into the confines of your snug entrance stretching you. You pull your fleshy bottom lip into your mouth, teeth digging painfully. Your lashes flutter, exposing the whites of your eyes as they roll back in blissful surrender, eyebrows arching. Your mewls are soft and pleading. "Mmph! L-Loran. Please "

Your voice is a siren's call to him, as you whimper and plead for him. His desire to possess you completely, to fuck you full of his cum, to have you swollen with his young, consumes him. The mere thought of it almost brings him to the brink of release. Granting mercy upon your adorable, fucked out face, he finally sinks his finger into your cunt, relishing the exquisite tightness that embraces him, while your delicate hands clutch his braid and tug.

  With his other hand, he gently cups your cheeks between his large, powerful fingers, causing your lips to pucker. His mouth descends upon yours, messy and dominating, leaving a trail of mingled saliva that pools down your flushed cheeks. He chuckles as your eyes wander elsewhere, glazed and hazy with pleasure as he eases a single finger inside you.

A high-pitched sound escapes your lips as he expertly probes a sensitive spot deep within you, causing your hips to tremble and your inner walls to clench around his fingers. Leaning closer, his warm breath brushes against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Ayh lat naka ve cum, sma shara? " His mother tongue is foreign to you, but it sounds absolutely erotic, especially while he's stroking your drooling pussy skillfully. You shudder fervently, emitting mewls and whimpers, as the squelching noises of his thrusts fill the confined space of the tent. “I—uhn~ w-wait p-please, Lor…” You babble nonsensically. ( are you going to cum, little human? )

 Loran, in a teasing mood, complies with your dumb prattling, and moves away from you, fingers slipping out with an erotic pop. A soft whimper escapes your lips, your lower lip jutting out in a pout as tears well up in your eyes from the empty feeling in your pussy, your eyes widen at seeing him suck on his dampened fingers. “N-no, why’d you stop!” 

 With a chuckle, the Orc leans in to press a tender kiss on your flushed cheeks, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "I simply did as you asked, Faushnu," he whispers. Pulling back slightly, he studies your expression - your eyebrows furrowed, lips parted, and your chest rising and falling rapidly. "I did not mean for this," you whimper, grinding your hips against his growing bulge. “M-more. Give me more.” You give him a stern glare, that only turns him on more, his little hostage was so demanding. ( baby ) "Of course, Your Highness," he says, his tone dripping with playful mockery. Loran's large hands firmly grasp your waist, swiftly maneuvering you onto your stomach. With a gentle yet commanding motion, he elevates your hips, causing your face to be buried in the soft furs beneath you. The sensation is almost agonizing as your back arches, eliciting a sharp squeal from your lips. A glob of warm saliva unexpectedly lands on your moistened pussy, causing an involuntary clenching reaction. "What are yo--?" 

  Before you can finish, the sudden roughness of his tongue against your throbbing cunt has you seeing stars. His feral growls reverberate through the air, as his tongue delves and ravishes you with an insatiable fervor. Reduced to a whimpering wreck, tears of rapturous delight cascade down your flushed face.  Desperate to regain control, you weakly press your small hand against the crown of his head, attempting to halt the relentless onslaught. "No more, please, m'gunna cum. Want to cum for you," you manage to slur amidst incoherent babbling, your words a contradictory mix. 

Loran, enraptured by your musings, fingers your pussy once again, effortlessly finding that spongey nerve inside of you and deftly curling his thick finger into it, time and again. A torrent of scorching pleasure engulfs your entire being, as you succumb to an intense climax, your trembling thighs embracing his head while your pussy flutters around his finger.

" Loran! "You slur, thighs still convulsing as the feel of Loran's hands on the fat of your hips seems multiplied, your mind filled with goo. The rustle of fabric falling to the ground barely registers before his thick cock presses into your pussy, hands guiding your hips onto him. Warmth trickles onto your pulsing cunt, his saliva lubing where you connect. You clench around him, emitting obscene moans. 

   He delves deeper, your snugness yielding to his thick, heavy cock. You swear you can feel every pulsating vein, every ridge of him inside of you. You whimper and whine when he fucks half of his big cock into your tiny little hole, and you thrash and let out small mewls of pleasure. "Mmph, Lor--!! it won't fit!" you whimper amidst sobs. 

"Hm?" He utters, his voice a low hum, as he observes with rapt attention as you stretch around his green, monstrous cock. The pressure within your abdomen steadily intensifies, inch by inch, until Loran thrusts in the last couple of inches, his large balls flush against your engorged clit. You're already fucked stupid, pupils blown, and moans strewing from your lips. The Orc takes hold of your hand, guiding it towards your stomach, allowing you to feel the undeniable presence of his shaft protruding from your belly. "Do you feel me? Feel my cock in your insides, my little human?"

With a forceful motion, he retreats, then thrusts forcefully into you, his grip tightening on your hair as he pulls.  A fervent moan escapes your lips, as the resounding collision of his hips against your ass fills the air, the only thing you can hear. The wet squelching of your arousal intermingles with his precum, cascading onto the opulent furs beneath you. His name becomes a sacred mantra, slipping from your tongue like a fervent prayer. "S'good, m'gunna cum, let me cum, please, please."

With a gentle caress, Loran's hand ascends your stomach, pinching your sensitive nipples. You mewl, back arching as you clench and pulse around his thick length, cumming harder than before, a wave of darkness gently tinting your vision. A low, guttural moan reverberates from deep within you, harmonizing with Loran's unyielding thrusts. “That's a good fuckin’ girl.”

The Orc's hand comes down on your ass, observing the quivering flesh. Your violated hole trembles around Loran's thick length, and he snickers, his hips stuttering. "You're mine. Hm? Do you understand, pet?" His thrusts became more profound, faster, not giving you rest, groaning as you nod quickly, whimpering.

You turn your gaze towards him, his fingers constricting in your tresses. "Loran, want you to cum inside me, please." Your feeble arms emerge from beneath your form, delicate hands reaching to spread your pussy wider. "You will, right?"

 Your wanton plea hurls the massive Orc over the brink. Loran's hips slam into yours once more as his scorching cum coats your walls; the copious amount of it had you cumming once more. Loran continues to pump his seed into you, his cock still hard and balls full of cum. He longed to see you swollen with his offspring; he wouldn't stop until he knew you were trapped with him.

You are not permitted to rest until the early morning, curled against his chest with his seed leaking from your stretched opening. Your body is tender, marked with bruises on your neck and chest. Loran places his large hand on your cheek; although he is running late for the meeting, he decides to allow you more time to sleep.

He lifts you gently, thankful that he has cleaned you up and changed the bedding. You snuggle into his warmth, almost convincing him to delay for another hour. "My zemar, it's time to wake up. We must rise before the sun sets." (my heart)

Stirring in his arms, your eyelashes flutter before you slowly open your bleary eyes. Attempting to close them once more, his hearty chuckle resonates, partially rousing you. Placing you gently on the bed, he drapes one of his shirts over you, guiding your arms through the sleeves. Loran picks you up again, cradling you as he carries you out of the tent, shielding your eyes from the glaring sun. The short walk to the other side of the campsite goes unnoticed by you.

He arrives promptly, his raven perched gracefully on its stand. A soft whistle escapes his lips, a signal for the bird to gather the troops. Loran takes his place at the head of the table, positioning you to face him, your legs wrapped around his waist. With spit on his fingers, he traces circles around your cunt, pleased that it had returned to its original state, tight and warm. After lubricating your entrance, he spits on his palm and wraps his member in a firm grip, ensuring that it's slick. 

  Loran aligns himself with your little hole and eases inside, emitting a deep groan at the vice grip; you let out a sleepy moan, tightening around him. His large hands grip the fat of your hips, guiding you down the rest of his thick length. He pulls his shirt over your ass, concealing where his cock is nestled inside of you.

He has to stop himself from fucking you on the table in front of all his tribe members. Once he had you in the perfect position, his soldiers began to file into the room. He couldn't help but notice how your warm, tight hole was becoming slick. Unbeknownst to you, his thick cock was already buried deep within you.

The meeting unfolds seamlessly. With nightfall as their ally, they conspire to dismantle the impenetrable walls of the Kingdom on the morrow. A sacred covenant governs The Mammoth Clan, dictating that the fairer sex and the innocent offspring shall be spared from any affliction. Thus, the innocent shall be granted mercy and protection.

Awakening towards the end, your pussy pulsating and enveloping something thick and long. A twitching motion stirs inside you, nudging your G-spot. A soft moan escapes your lips as you hide your face in his neck. Loran dismisses it as your mere awakening, soothingly caressing your back. Only a fool would miss the evidence of your arousal - the glistening juices trickling down your bare thighs and the hint of green meeting a clenching hole

" Dismissed. "

The orcs file out of the room, speaking amongst each other. Loran's gaze descends upon your petite frame, concealed beneath his garments. He looks feral. Once the auditory commotion subsides, you cautiously lift your head, locking eyes with his penetrating stare.

"Loran, please."

The Orc emits a deep snarl, his lips forcefully meeting yours as he firmly grasps the flesh of your hips, hoisting you off his slick member. Swiftly, he plunges you back down, thrusting into you with fervor, fucking you onto him. You're moaning mess, the spit from your sloppy kiss sliding down your chin and eyes rolling to the back of your head. The sound of wet slapping resonates loudly within the confines of the tent. With a gasp for air, you disengage from him, your hands finding solace on his broad shoulders.

 A particular thrust causes the swollen, mushroom-shaped tip of his cock to abuse your g-spot and your moan is shrill. You climax, your body trembling around him, leaving a creamy, ivory ring at the base of his cock. Stars burst in your vision as you weakly press your lips against his throat, whimpering as he continues to thrust into you, your sensitive and throbbing core tender. " Lor-.. no more.. s’too.. much!" you sputter, sloppily pressing your lips to his and sucking on his large tongue. 

Despite the roughness of his hips snapping into yours, he caresses your sides softly and pulls away from your kiss, licking his lips. "Be a good pet, hm? Let me use my pussy, can you do that for me? " You nod hesitantly, and he smiles, sending your stomach to unfurl languidly. "S'my good girl." You bury your face in his neck with a whimper, but when your blunt little teeth sink into his collarbone it pushes him over the edge; and he stands up with you still bouncing on his cock, thrusting so deeply that you hiss. Ropes of cum paint your pulsing walls, filling you up.

Loran's shallow thrusts ensure not a single drop is wasted as you envelop him in your embrace, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply.

Mayhap, the circumstance of being dispatched to this place was not as grievous as first imagined...

connected with this post!

[arolesbianism]

I love so oni so dearly but I can also tell that I am too much of a lazy bitch for this game sometimes lol. There's definitely a lot of features that I could make such great use of if I bothered to actually try using them but I will forever do things the more wasteful and inconvenient way because that's just how I roll babey

[dieinct]

i was just talking about this after being wrecked by the discovery that the little elf-goblin fellows my parents/family used to tell me warnings and stories about as a little kid are regionally specific, and that you can trace people's geographic origins by what word they use for "little spirit-fellows who live in your house". no matter what you call them (domovoi, kobolde, brownies, so on); for purposes of this post henceforth "little guys"

i think one of the things that i find frustrating about like, idk, modern animist revivalist movements is that very few of them ime spend a lot of time romanticising and spiritualizing human habitation. obviously, we as a culture need to think more about protecting and defending nature/the earth/so on, but like.

if you don't have room in your heart for making up a little guy who lives in the water heater, or who squats under your stove and makes it run 15 degrees off the programmed temperature, and thinking of him with the same kind of respect/affection as you do for the spirits (or whatever) of the wildlife you interact with like.

genuinely: what are you even doing. you are removing a source of richness and fun and whimsy from your life! like, pip @creekfiend made up the concept of "little guys who live in an airport (and are the reason it's so shitty to be in an airport)" and i already like airports like 30% more just knowing it's the little airport inconvenience guys doing that.

more importantly, like. genuinely: interrogate what parts of the world seem ~rich with spiritual meaning~ to you. what parts of the world are "wild"? what does that make the rest of the world - a chore? a burden? who has to carry that burden?

we're never going to like, "return to nature", because that's nothing and the concept of untouched nature is also nothing; we're always going to have some sort of human habitation and interaction and cultivation with nature. if you can't extend grace and whimsy and genuine and sincere meaning to human habitation, including its inconveniences and annoyances, you are making your own lived experience duller!

notably, most of these kinds of little-guy-spirits historically exist in the parts of human habitation that are partially abandoned, partially removed: haylofts, inside the walls, under the house, in the bathhouse, behind the furnace... i've been thinking a lot about urban wildlife lately, and the animals who make space for themselves in and around human habitation. the "natural" and the "wild" persist inside and around the edges of the "tame" and always, always have. if you have a crawlspace, there's a little spirit who lives there and he's the reason the dryer always eats your socks.

LIVE WHIMSICALLY.

[fangswbenefits]

Trance

Summary: Astarion is having a hard time trancing, and you offer to help him out in more ways than one.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Cockwarming. Body worship. Sub Astarion (if you squint). Breast play. Precum.

Word count: 2.1k

Astarion was restless.

You could see it clearly from the way he was pacing near his tent, not once stepping inside.

It was odd and unusual even though elves were known to only need a few hours of trancing to replenish their vigour.

Still, you figured maybe you should intervene.

“Astarion?”

You made sure your voice was loud enough for him to hear you from across the camp without sounding too alarm to wake the others.

It was enough to stir his attention, and he stopped in his tracks for a brief moment, before rounding the campfire, as he made his way towards you.

He looked positively drained when you crawled out through the opening of your tent, sitting on the carpeted floor.

“You look awful.”

He scoffed. “I'm quite sure I look far better than you, darling.”

You smiled warmly, knowing fully well it was just his automatic response to being teased.

“Well, what is it? Did you call me here to gawk?”

Astarion had this terrible habit of behaving like a temperamental cat that would make it everyone's problem if any minor inconvenience was thrown at them.

“You can't trace, can you?”

He crossed his arms. “I'm fine.”

Your smile parted your lips. “No need to get defensive, you big cat.”

That disarmed him only slightly.

He dropped his arms, but now held a deep scowl on his handsome face. “I fail to see how you can help out.”

The nature of your relationship with Astarion had longed moved from being merely a forced partnership between two strangers.

He had bedded you more than once and had poured his heart out even against his better judgement.

If there was someone who could help him out, it was you.

Lovers helped each other in various ways.

And he knew it, but his pride and reluctance to show vulnerability often got in the way.

Luckily for him, you had an idea of what could be useful in this case.

You stared down at your shirt and began to undo the top buttons in a very nonchalant way.

Astarion immediately rushed to you, crouching. “What are you doing?”

“This has helped before, right?”

His eyes widened at your silent proposal, but he didn't deny it. How could he? He adored your breasts way too much to turn away such an invitation.

“Are you offering to do it here, though?” he asked with an amused click of his tongue. “I didn't peg you for the exhibitionist type, darling.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks from his cheeky taunt, and you stopped halfway, realising it was enough to offer him a decent view of your chest.

And just like clockwork, Astarion's smugness began to slip as his lips parted in defeat.

It was rather easy to fully disarm him this way.

As such, you rose to your feet and walked back inside with him hurriedly following you, as you untied the strings that held the flaps apart.

You were covered when it came to visual privacy, but the two of you were known to get quite loud at times.

As you sat down on your bedroll, you tilted your head, gaze landing on his lower half.

“Maybe you should undo them.”

He glanced down. “Right.”

Honestly, he didn't have much of a choice. He always got too hard from this, and you wanted to pre-emptively ensure he was as comfortable as possible.

You watched as he tugged at the lacing of his trousers, making room for his cock to grow and thicken freely.

The entire act could be regarded as you merely taking care of him in time of need. 

Its foundation wasn't inherently sexual.

However…

 … it was rather difficult to ignore the rising throb in between your legs.

As much as he adored suckling on your nipples, your yearning for him nearly matched his adoration.

You moved to lay on your side, allowing your breasts to spill out from the shirt, nipples already hardening from the shift in temperature and state of arousal.

In the dark, you were able to spot his crimson eyes glinting briefly as he took the place next to you.

For a few seconds, you simply gaze into each other's eyes in silence.

He was visibly tired.

He needed to trance.

He needed to find comfort.

He needed you.

“Is there something troubling you?” you asked softly.

He snickered. “Besides the worm swimming about in my head?”

You nodded as he shifted closer to you, his cool hand at your hip.

You shivered.

But it was the good kind of shivers.

The type to swell your clit and quicken your heartbeat.

“Darling, we'd be up all night, and I really need the rest.”

Fair enough.

Some forms of distress were better handled this way.

You almost gasped as his hand moved to one breast, caressing the hardened nipple.

“Do you want me pressed up against you?”

Your heart skipped a beat and you pressed your thighs together in reflex.

Gods.

“Do you want to?” you retorted before your voice could crack under the weight of impeding lust.

He shifted even closer, as he squeezed your breast softly im a silent warning.

“I asked you a question.”

It wouldn't take long for you to soak through your undergarments and trousers.

Even though he was clearly exhausted, Astarion adored having you use your words to fuel his own arousal.

“Yes… I think I prefer it.”

This time, you did gasp when he began tracing circles around your nipple with the pad of his thumb.

“And why is that, my sweet?”

He was relentless and you were too transfixed to fight back.

“I enjoy how it feels…” you whispered.

His crotch was now too close to your own and you could feel your clit pulsing evenly from his taunting words.

“And what is it that you enjoy?”

You swallowed, pushing your hips into him. “I enjoy feeling you getting harder and harder…”

And Astarion groaned.

“You're too much of a tease,” he said before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You'd have me unravel with just words.”

You chuckled through the heavy haze of lust that pooled in your throat. “Likewise.”

He was already hardening against you. You could feel his cock twitch and you could tell he was fighting back the primal urge to roll his hips.

But now wasn't the time.

He needed something else.

His agile fingers kept teasing your nipple, drawing soft whimpers from you.

“I wonder how swollen your clit is for me,” he teased.

But before he could continue, you clicked your tongue. “You talk too much.”

And you moved until you were able to line your breast with his mouth.

His hand immediately dropped and you seized the moment to shove your nipple against his lips, which he promptly parted, welcoming it inside his mouth.

And then he latched beautifully around it..

The most effective way to silence Astarion was to keep his mouth busy.

Your back arched reflexively, as he began to suckle eagerly, hips still flushed against you.

It was hard to keep your thoughts straight from the sight of him hollowing his cheeks with each tug.

You raked your fingers along his soft curls, silently praising him.

His eyes fluttered shut and with an instinctive roll of his hips, you realised just how hard he already was.

It was almost embarrassing how soaked your were for him and how much your body yearned for his cock to be buried deep inside you.

“You're such a good boy…” you found yourself saying before you could think twice.

Astarion was addicted to praise, especially when it came from you.

So, naturally, he moaned in approval.

He looked positively ethereal from this position, completely drunk in you as comfort took over.

But he suddenly pulled away, half-hooded eyes meeting yours. “Call me that again. Please.”

He sounded… desperate.

Oh? This was new.

“And why is that?” you feigned ignorance, caressing his scalp.

He didn't enjoy having his own method of seduction being turned on him, but he was the needy one in this situation.

And so he begged.

“Please… it felt good.”

His twitching cock was proof enough of it.

You glanced at your nipple that was now swollen from his suckling.

“Come here,” you cooed, guiding it into his mouth once again, “and be a good boy.”

“Gods above…” he growled before latching, his hand snaking behing your back and pulling you harder against him.

At this point, you were beginning to wonder if his need to rest hadn't been shoved to the back of his mind.

He seemed way too alert for someone who intended on trancing.

But the answer came soon enough when he let go of your nipple once more.

“Turn around.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

There was hunger in his eyes. “I need to be inside you.”

It seemed that his submission had been short-lived, and he was once again taking control.

“Are you sure? You ought to rest,” you said, biting your lip and trying your best to ignore the gush of wetness that spilled from you as you clenched.

“I will rest once I'm inside you.”

He seemed determined enough with a sliver of despair dripping from his voice.

You weren't sure this would have the desired effect he sought, but you longed to be filled with him.

Dexterity was what he excelled at, and he swiftly helped you out of your trousers, baring you fully to his gaze.

You could feel your wetness coating your folds as your clit peeked between them, throbbing rhythmically.

A whimper escaped your throat.

A shiver ran down your spine as his fingers parted your folds, so he could stare in awe at how swollen your clit was.

He licked his lips.

“Turn around, darling. Allow me to feel just how warm and wet you are.”

You clenched before doing what you were told, rolling on your other side.

The cool tip of his cock nudged against your backside, smearing precum as he adjusted his position.

You arched into him, parting your legs just enough and bracing yourself for how you'd be struggling at first, even though you were drenched. 

His hand you leg high enough for him to be able to angle himself at your entrance.

You bit your lip and fisted the blanket under you.

His lips were at your ear. “I'll go slow.”

Well, he had to.

There was no other–

He rolled his hips and the tip began to stretch you, causing any coherent thoughts to be put on hold.

Gods… why does he have to be so thick…

“Clenching won't help… you know this by now,” he groaned in your ear, struggling to push along your tightening walls.

You couldn't help but to clench.

It was your own body's way of setting the pace.

“Let me sink fully into you.”

You moaned as he went on, and you placed your hand in between your legs, fingers finding his cock just so you could feel how much it was left for him to slide inside. 

He chuckled. “You adore doing that, don't you? Feeling how hard I am for you as you take me.”

You mewled a reply, keeping yourself from clenching as he sank until you felt his heavy balls against the tips of your fingers.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as stilled.

“Such a good girl.” he praised, planting a kiss below your ear.

You caressed his balls, the motion causing the heel of your hand to rub against your clit.

You shuddered as he growled.

The difference in temperature would soon be forgotten as your heat enveloped his cock.

But Astarion had seemingly stilled for good.

He let go of your leg, allowing you to press your thighs together, as he wrapped his arm around you, hand settling in between your heaving breasts.

“Are you sure you can trance like this?” you asked, removing your own hand from between your legs.

His lips moved to the side of your neck. “I've been meaning to try this for too long. You're so warm… so tight…”

You clenched involuntarily around him.

“I know you crave my seed, but we should rest,” he said, sounding quite drowsy.

You wanted nothing more than to be filled to the brim with his cum, but that would have to wait.

The clenches were now sparse and far in between as you got used to the prospect of falling asleep with his cock stuffed inside you.

He was probably leaking insane amounts of precum, and that did put a smile on your face.

His cock twitched a few times more, before fully stilling, but as hard as ever.

“Astarion?” you whispered.

His head had slumped behind yours, and he seemed to have drifted off into the early beginnings of his trance.

Your clit was still swollen and begging for attention, but you were willing to sacrifice that if it meant falling asleep this way.

Masterlist

[tteokdoroki]

happy valentine's day!! thank you so much for your lovely writings ❤️❤️ may i swipe spicy (breeding kink :3) for nagi + ring? thank you again!! i hope i'm doing this right ;-;

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SEISHIRO NAGI. swipe spicy: bound forever.

about. boom, it’s a match! after a perfect proposal, nagi decides to make you his forever in a more sinful way ( 2.3K ).

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, characters aged up to 20s, established relationships, engagements, light choking, cum play, unprotected sex, breeding kink, pro player!nagi, fem!reader.

・:〃⤥ bumble date, swipe right event !

seishiro nagi is effortlessly good at everything. 

with his friends — his aloof charm and easygoing nature is enough to keep them entertained. they don’t find his shy and laidback nature too off-putting or boring. with soccer, his talent is natural — born from nothing but a spark of interest. when he’d first started, nagi was a level above the rest without any of the extra hard work and training…but he’d craved to be better, to win above everyone else. so, at times, soccer was worth the hassle.

and with you, well, being with you was as easy as breathing air. 

effortless is exactly the word the white haired striker would use to describe his relationship with you. on good days and bad, you and nagi fit together like perfectly made pieces of a puzzle. there’s something about the way that you love him, that motivates nagi to push himself past his limits. he’s better because of you, wants to be better for you — always. there is no feeling of hassle or tiredness when it comes to making you happy, your laughter fills nagi with life and a passion akin to what he feels whenever he’s on the pitch.

seishiro has no idea what it is about you that made him this way. but what he does know now is that he can’t live with you — the way you smile at him, hold him, love him, kiss him. it’s something he can’t bare to be without now that he’s tasted what it’s like to live life with you by his side. that’s why he finds the courage to propose to you on Valentine’s Day — uncharacteristically serious and nervous as he sinks down onto one knee in the cosy corner of that restaurant you like. 

what if you reject him? what if you say no? bringing back the ring would be a hassle but the thought of losing you is even worse…

though, when you realise what’s going on and your eyes light up with such undiluted love and adoration — the words of little speech nagi had prepared for this moment slip from him easily as if he had been born to ask you to marry him. to be with you forever. and now, for the rest of your lives — you will always be his and seishiro nagi will always be yours. 

a promise that is commemorated with the biggest and most blinding diamond ring nagi’s hefty soccer player paycheck can buy. 

romantic dinner plans were quickly thrown out of the window as soon as your engagement ring took residence on its rightful finger. after ringing up the bill and abandoning your half-finished meals, the both of you find yourselves stumbling home to celebrate the beginning of forever. your movements are frenzied and fuelled by the high of your engagement as you make it over the threshold, hands tugging and tearing at the fancy clothes inconveniently in the way while your lips meet in passionate, ravenous kisses — your tongue running over nagi’s pearly white teeth as he pours hungry moans and love and adoration into you.

“sei—!” you whimper, soft and needy as your back hits the wall behind you. your newfound fiancé uses the entirety of his strength and height to lift you into his arms, wrapping your thighs around his slender waist whilst his hips pin you to the cold surface. lines between love and lust are quickly blurred when the heavy outline of nagi’s dick presses against the treasure hidden between your perfectly plush thighs — your dress pushed up just enough to reveal them to greedy cool-tone grey eyes. “seishiro…mph, i love you…”

“y’love me, angel?” the striker’s entire body trembles with pride at the way you call his name, keening into his closeness and the way that he towers over you. your fingers rake through his silvering hair, the band of your diamond ring icy on the back of his neck as you tug him even closer as though his proximity is not enough. “s’that why you’re gonna marry me? let me…fuck, let me have you forever?” nagi coos his sinfully words quietly, tucking his face into the alcove between your neck and shoulder — kiss swollen lips dragging over your heated flesh and fluffy white lashes fluttering against the spot as well. 

you’re so soft, so warm underneath him and nagi can hardly resist the siren’s call of your body — ripe and fresh for the taking, much like the fruit in adam and eve’s garden. he can’t help his innate desire to take you, and it’s just a little bit frustrating. 

his dick pulsates behind the layers of boxers and slacks, desperate to be sheathed within your silken walls. and in response, you clench around nagi’s tip through your thin cotton panties almost as if you’re coaxing him into making love to you. right here, right now. each time he drags his hips back and forth, slow and steady, against you, your thighs tighten their grip around his waist and your body twitches to life in seishiro’s hold. his chubby erection, leaky and hard, slides through your panty clad folds at your sensual bump and grind, only adding to your exertion. 

“‘m gonna keep you as mine...” blood rushes through seishiro’s ears and shoots through the rest of his lean body, carrying adrenaline and lust hormones via the red blood cells teaming under the surface of his skin. he needs you, he can hear how much you need him too. it’s evident in the way you gasp and mewl out for him — your own body following your fiancé’s lead. 

“uh huh, wanna be yours…” the tail end of your words fall away into a whistle tone whine, layering over the sound of a clinking belt and shuffling dress pants which give nagi the room to pull his girthy cock out. 

he noses his way up the side of your face, breathing growing erratic and unstable against your ear as he positions himself at your quivering entrance — sliding into you with very little resistance. “ngh…so t-tight, angel. can’t…can’t wait t’be the only one who gets to fuck you open for the rest of our lives.” seishiro sighs dreamily. his hips jut upwards, filling you up with his milky cock in one swift movement. you stretch around him deliciously, walls rippling around him to accommodate for his size — despite having been taken like this many times before. “don’t…don’t clench down on me like that. s’not fair, you’re gonna milk me ‘n we’ve barely fuck started.” 

the white haired player stutters with both his words and his hips — struggling to set a steady rhythm to the way he grinds into you. like that of a wet dog slipping into his rut. sometimes nagi thinks he’s being selfish, snapping a girl like you up and making you his for the keeping…but it’s times like this — where your cunt squeezes down on his seedy cockhead every time it pulls out of you — that nagi is reminded of his ego. the selfishness that’s been born into him with every play on the field and every precise, lax movement he makes to help you reach cloud nine. 

he can’t stop running his mouth, lustful and debauched gibberish slipping and sliding over his wet tongue as he builds up the momentum behind the forceful juts of his hips into yours. “unless that’s what you want, yeah pretty girl?” seishiro continues to grunt even when the length of his creamy cock slips out of you, running through your puffy folds. “f’me to knock you up… make you take all of my cum.”  your dainty fingers reach down between the slow rolls of your body to push him back in, sending a shudder down your fiancé’s spine. 

no matter how many times you touch him, fuck him, love him… he will never get used to having you wrapped around him like this. dripping so sweetly down his heavy balls. “make you even warmer in here… s’warm and wet all for me. ‘m so lucky. you’re so good.” 

a symphony of wet slaps from skin on skin echo throughout the hallway of your apartment — for every slothful plunge of nagi’s sloppy, seedy dick against your gooey and sensitive insides reverberates in the heated buzzing between your heated and temperate bodies. nagi, and all 190cm of him, curls over you protectively — lips tacked to yours as he chases your sluice, salacious pussy for more than you can give him. an impossible closeness that he craves now that you’ve agreed to marry him. 

it’s ungodly how much control you and the ring on your finger have over him — reducing the mighty, notoriously undefeatable striker to a drenched, sweaty and sex-driven mess. “i want you inside…” pressing his forehead to your own weakly, nagi’s white hair sticks to your skin and his hot, heaving breath coasts over your cherry-bitten cupid’s bow as you speak — dampening the surface. “need you to cum inside, sei. m-make me yours…please!” 

all the striker does is moan low and sexy in response, the husky sound sending thunder-strikes of dopamine across your loved-up brain. all he can think about is breeding you, stuffing you full with so much cum and so much of him that you can’t walk for days. impulsively his hips twitch upwards rapidly,  so fast that your eyes disappear into the dark depths of your skull and nagi’s cockhead bears down on that needy, spongy little spot inside of you. 

everything grows wetter, hotter and nastier. amidst your surprise from the uptick in your fiancé’s usually languid pace, your fingertips on your right hand sink into the broad expanse of his back while your left ( the one with the ring )  suddenly ensnares the colum of nagi’s throat — pulling him down so that your faves are only a breaths width apart. the cooler press of your engagement ban against his feverish skin only eggs him on, driving the pro soccer player to pursue the intoxicating squelch of your count around his thick base, a white mixture beginning to foam there from how vigorously you’re fucking each other.

nagi is loving and lazy, but greedy when it comes to you. he plans to be that way forever, if it means he can witness the look of delirium on your face whenever he has you fucked out like this. and you’re the same, a perfect match, bucking into him as though to match his strong pace — so that you both can see stars and reach new heights of insanity together. 

you’re overwhelmed, the both of you are. senses being worked into overdrive from the way nagi’s cock shines each time he pulls out of your snugg, wet sex to the way that your needy gripes and laments harmonise into the night. “g-god angel, ‘m gonna cum…g’na let go inside’a you…fill you up,” seishiro rambles in warning, losing his rhythm and tripping over his words. he could cream your cunt right now, selfishly reach his high before yours — but nagi loves you; loves the feel of your diamond engagement ring cutting into his cheek when you move to cup his face through the final moments. “spread your legs a little more f’me, ‘m gonna touch you…”

so instead, he pulls back the hood your clit with the hand on the arm that keeps you steady against the wall, and burns the letters of his name into the puffy nub. “‘hmygod, s-sei!” you squeal at the new found pleasure, groping at your man as your head falls back against the wall. it begins to creak under the pressure of sex, tinging nagi’s skin a soft pink while his dick throbs in the warm hug of your addictive walls. “‘m close!” 

“i-i know pretty thing, i know,” spreading the filthy mix of your arousals over your slit while he pumps in and out of you lewdly, nagi whimpers your name loud and proud. everything is so messy, so fucking raw, his shaft is doused in an opaque white that clings to the oretty blue veins spiralling around his cock while your mound seeps and weeps a wetness only he can bring out of you. “you gonna cum? you g’na cum f’me baby? drip d-down my cock…let me cum in you after?” the pitch of nagi’s moans rise in octave until they’re enough to rival your open-mouthed bleats. 

“y-yes! please sei, p-please!” fat droplets of precum and your juices along between your bodies and crudely drip to the floor, and it’s not long before the tickle at the base of your spine becomes a bright spark — your orgasm breaking dawn first. 

waves of your precious nectrar and liquid gold gush from your fluttering entrance before you even realise it — so fast it almost forces the white haired striker out of you. “y-yeah, yeah, yeah…fuck! that’s it angel, c-cum all over me…” nagi’s cock never relents, bullies it’s way through your blistering hot walls to nudge at  your g-spot all throughout the ordeal while the world of colours flashes behind your eyes. 

you’re such a good girl, you’ll be such a good wife — letting nagi use you and continue to canter into you until your rippling cunt push him over the edge into his own high. “c-cumming!” he gasps as if he’s taken a bullet to the chest, thrusting into you as if it’s the last thing he’ll ever do — intent on keeping you bred and full. seishrio’s load pours into you like a never ending stream of thick white, warm and viscous as it coats your mound copiously. painting you in his claim. 

he doesn’t budge even as you both fall back down to earth from your heavenly highs — making sure that not a drop of his cum is wasted on anything else except for you. a lazy giggle escapes you as your hand slinks down from nagi’s cheek to his plush lips, leaving a pink-ish (yet pain free) mark from your ring on his cheek. 

“i love you, sei,” you whisper in tired amusement as he kisses the ring on your finger.

seishiro hums happily, squeezing your thighs in his hold. “i love you back, forever ‘n always, angel.” 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Regarding the post about Marinette being punished for trusting people and the response to it, this is something I always have trouble explaining because it sounds callous? But fictional characters aren't people. It's not that their lives just so happen to get in the way leading to something bad happened the writers decided that should happen, and it's important that you stop and ask WHY this happens. If the camera is "on" per se, people assume it's relevant and will tie into something larger. So like if the camera is on and all we see is Alya revealing her identity and then the result is she's outed in the same way she was in Heroes Day, the audience naturally concludes it's connected and thus realizes the lesson is either "Alya learns she shouldn't share her identity" OR "Marinette learns she shouldn't trust people" or both.

Secret identities are a great example of this phenomenon. We're NOT shown every time a villain's plan is foiled because they didn't know the heroe's identity, we ARE shown every time a heroe's identity causes friction in their lives. As such, large parts of the audience think of secret identites as inconveniences because that's what's shown (not just in Miraculous Ladybug, in tons of other shows)

Like you are supposed to make connections in Television about what's being shown to you that no one would make in real life (or at the very least no one SHOULD make in real life) because there's a limited space to tell the story and the audience is assuming the writers aren't wasting our time.

If these were real people it would be unreasonable to say because people have their own lives Marinette can't trust them, but in a story where Marinette is the main character who is explicitly always supposed that's. An accurate way to read the story!

And I also understand that this is a very boring construction if you're making headcanons or thinking about these characters! But that's a different lens, it doesn't make the broader writing lens invalid. You're speaking different languages at that point.

Anyway I hope that helps someone, that's my two cents

You summed it up perfectly! There's a ton of valid criticism to be had of Miraculous, but you can tell from the narrative framing that almost all of it comes down to writing choices and not things that are supposed to be seen as in-universe issues even though a lot of fans treat them as such. It's really weird to see things like people complaining about everything revolving around Marinette as if it's a personal flaw of hers and not the result of her being the main character in a fictional world. "Main Character Syndrome" literally pulls its name from the fact that this is how main characters work in a lot of media. It's a flaw when a real person does it, but in terms of story telling, it's extremely normal - and often good story telling - to have everything revolve around your main character or a core cast.

The issue with Miraculous is that they chose a lot of poor conflicts if they wanted Marinette to be the one and only main character, but that's not her fault. She didn't decide to have the rules around identities make no sense. The writers did. She didn't decide to make the main villain Adrien's dad while also keeping Adrien from being involved in the story. The writers did. The list goes on and on and, because none of it reflects badly on Marinette in the writers' eyes, the show doesn't act like Marinette is in the wrong. Remember, these are the same writers who think that Derision was a great episode that added depth to Marinette instead of destroying her character and making her look unhinged. Their judgement is clearly a little skewed.

While the writers love to make bad plot choices, they are generally using proper story telling language to make those choices, which is why I can tell you how characters' actions are intended to be read. The Rena Furtive and Nino example is a great one because it allows me to show that the writers do understand how to set things up. In fact, once they've decided that they're going to do a thing, they pretty much always set it up at a basic level. It's rarely spectacular and often frustrating, but it's never shocking.

In Rocketear, Alya promises Marinette that Nino will never learn about Rena Furtive. The episode then ends with her breaking that promise via the following exchange:

Alya: (sighs) I'm still Rena Rouge. (Nino gasps.) But now I'm in hiding and that's why Ladybug asked me not to tell anyone. Nino: But why are you telling me if no one's supposed to know? Is Ladybug cool with this? Alya: I can't hide it from you, because I love you, Nino, and we share everything.

Look at how this confession is presented. Look at what the dialogue focuses on. When Marinette confessed her identity to Alya, it was all about the confession and supporting Marinette. There was no discussion of this being a problem for Chat Noir or anything like that because - in the writers' eyes - that wasn't a problem for some reason. This is why Chat Noir almost instantly absolves Ladybug of blame once he finds out about the identity reveal (see: Hack-San.) The writers didn't want it to be an issue so it wasn't:

Ladybug: I'm really sorry, Cat Noir. I should've told you. I mean, if I found out that you told someone about your secret identity, I'd... probably be upset, too. I'm really sorry I hurt your feelings. Cat Noir: You didn't hurt my feelings. You did everything right

But when Alya confesses her identity to Nino, the conversation is not just about her confession. It's about her confession and how she's not supposed to do this. That's why Nino's response is not loving support. Instead, he asks if this is a good idea and if Ladybug knows.

These things are getting focused on because the writers are telling you that this is a bad thing. It's supposed to feel ominous. When I first watched Rocketear, I assumed that the season was going to end with Gabriel getting the fox off of Alya due to Nino because that was an obvious way to raise the stakes and they'd just heavily implied that Nino knowing would be a bad thing. I was, unfortunately, right. The only on screen consequence of Nino knowing is that he outs Alya to everyone in an incredibly forced series of events (see: Strikeback):

(Ryuko successfully prevents the Roue de Paris from hitting them, yet, it flies to the direction where Rena Furtive is. This causes Carapace to panic.) Carapace: Rena! (takes out his shield) Shell-ter! (Carapace's superpower successfully prevents the Ferris wheel from hitting Rena Furtive on top of the Tour Montparnasse. But the information of Rena Furtive's active status shocks the heroes, as well as Shadow Moth.) The heroes: Rena?! Shadow Moth: (from the top of the Eiffel Tower) She's still active?

Of course the Ferris Wheel goes straight for Alya's hiding spot and of course Nino screams her name before casting his power and of course the villain overhears it. It's all so forced and unnatural, which should make it glaringly obvious how much the writers wanted this to happen. This wasn't something they were kind of forced to do because it made sense for the narrative and they wanted to tell a good story. Instead, they wrote an awkward series of events because they really, really, really wanted Nino knowing to be a bad thing that outs Alya so that Marinette loses all of the miraculous even though none of this makes much sense.

How the hell did Gabriel hear Nino's shout from so far away? Is he able to overhear everything the heroes are saying? How does Nino even know that Alya is hiding there? And since when was a Ferris Wheel a threat to these guys? Your girlfriend is a magical girl and she's in her magical girl form, dude. You could drop a building on her and she'd be fine, a thing you have to know because this scene literally goes on to have Chat Noir go flying into a building, hitting it so hard the cement literally cracks, and no one really cares. I guess it's fine if Adrien is a punching bag, but Alya must be protected at all costs...

Anyway, while the above series of events was annoying, none of it was surprising. In fact, it would have all be perfectly predictable even if Alya outing herself was that treated as a more neutral event. Her choice leading to bad things falls perfectly in line with a truly bizarre running theme in the show: outing your identity to the person you love romantically is a bad thing that leads to bad consequences. That's why Chat Blanc and Ephemeral ended the world and why Nino knowing cost Ladybug the fox and why the character they call Joan of Arc has to give up her miraculous to be with her love and why the Kwami's have this absolutely asinine dialogue in Kwamis' Choice:

Plagg: Sugarcube! Having to force them to choose between love and their mission is just awful! Maybe Master Fu was wrong to choose them. Tikki: No, they’re made for each other. Love is what gives them their strength. Plagg: But the impossible part of that love is destroying them, and I know a thing or two about destruction. Tikki: (sighs heavily) What can we do? Plagg: We must free them of that impossible choice. We must… free them of us.

This is the voice of the author telling you that outing the identities is not and never will be a good choice for the love square. Never mind that Alya is allowed to know Marinette's identity or that Gabriel finding out is what actually ended the world in the alternate timelines or that Felix outted himself in public but is still wielding or that freaking Gabriel was allowed to know half of the temp heroes' identities while they were still actively wielding. For some reason, those things don't matter to the narrative, probably because romantic love wasn't involved. The "identity reveals are a bad thing" rule only seems to apply when romantic love is a key element to the point where it's a reoccurring theme in this supposed power of love show.

[uzurakis]

Yess so glad to see more Sakamoto days fans 😏 may I request some Nagumo headcanons with him being in a relationship, kinda curious about how’d he be like in an argument with s/o

ೀ ׅ ۫ . YOICHI NAGUMO RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS ?

SFW and NSFW under the cut!

n. i just recycled and elaborate the sfw ones from the asked i got from my 🎲 anon, added other things also. i love writing my stinky rascal . . hope u enjoy ^3^

the dynamic in a relationship with nagumo will be natural & playful so it allows the relationship to develop organically. your relationship with him is built on a foundation of mutual understanding and subtle communication. instead of a formal confession, his consistent flirting and genuine expressions of affection serve as his way of showing his feelings.

his love languages would be heavy on physical touch, means that he expresses and receives love most profoundly through physical closeness and touch. accepts pda; in fact, he prefers to take the lead. never let him take his hands off of you, somehow. pulls you by the waist and gives you a nosy kiss. he enjoys spending quality time, although his profession occasionally prevents him from doing so. however, he will make the most of his time with you while it is available.

really clingy in private. won’t let you get out off the bed by hugging you from behind. he’s also the big spoon most of the time.

he talks in his sleep when he’s comfortable with you, murmuring about how much you mean to him and lazy smooches here and there. likes to pretend to be asleep as well so you continue to caress him in bed when he’s ‘asleep’.

traps you in a hug every single time. nagumo just comes out of nowhere to hug you, not letting you go, and says “caught youu” and carries you in bridal style around the house.

if you love his tattoos, he definitely walks around naked in the house. also, the sign that he truly trusts you with all his life is when he tells you the meaning of each tattoo he has.

put your belongings at the topmost shelf so you need to call him for help or hides your stuffs in the most random places ever.

you guys have board and card games around the house. monopoly? uno? guess who? snakes & ladders? just name it.

i’ve seen so many times others saying he loves to play pranks, i definitely agree. intentionally getting you on your nerves just for him to apologize with another set of pranks. he’s just silly like that.

contrarily to beliefs, he likes to mull over after you guys argue and gives you space as he rethinks and reflects his actions. when he apologizes after a big fight, he takes both of your hands and swings them left and right as he explains, still teases but with a nervous smile this time.

a flirt, teaser, prankster, drama queen, what else?

he MATCHES YOUR FREAK, did i tell you he’s a nasty in bed? one hell of an experimentalist, doesn’t mind doing anything with you. his rage is huge, i’ll tell you that. vanilla? roleplay? waxplay? pegging? all down, just name it.

quickies at inconvenient times. you guys have a meeting in 10 minutes? 4 minutes is enough to do your thing in the public bathroom together.

likes to steal glances to your tits when you guys talk. i believe he’s a tit guy rather than ass. though, in public, his hands tends to uncontrollably go down to your ass when he circles you by the waist.

too good at nipple play.

nagumo likes you make you squirt, his personal favorite. however, for him, he likes it when you give him a handjob.

talks & coos to your pussy likes its you!

in bed, he likes it when you go rough, i think it’s really going to turn him on. just ride him i swear. might be one of his best times in life.

crack jokes during it, he’s quite humorous doing sex. compliments you in a funny way and says hilarious things also. expect your sex won’t be too serious and just all laughs & giggles.

doesn’t give a fuck about bounds, so semi public and publix sex are often.

@uzurakis

[princessoflalaland]

Wanna Try Something New?.✶⋆.˚꩜˙⋆✶

synopsis: pegging your boyfriend, geto suguru. that's literally it. nothing more, nothing less.

꩜˙⋆✶content: geto suguru x fem!reader, smut, anal, fingering, pegging, dirty talk, degradation laced with some praise, 69, begging, impact play

꩜˙⋆✶word count: 3.5k

꩜˙⋆✶a/n: I saw this one thing in a jjk link post about pegging geto, and I honestly couldn't get him, or the thought of pounding his ass until he screams, out of my sick head. i mayyyy have fangirled over him as i wrote this because its geto suguru, who wouldn’t?

“would you let me peg you?”

it’s a beautiful Saturday spent inside watching bad horror movies with your boyfriend. your head lay comfortably on his lap, cheek pressing against the smooth fabric of his pajama pants. you tilt your head, peering over your shoulder to gauge his reaction. 

suguru’s violet, catlike eyes are slightly widened in amused shock. the beginnings of a smile toy with the corner of his lips as the subconscious stroking of his hand on your hip ceases. “what?” he asks with a chuckle. 

“would you let me peg you?" you kindly repeat. the glitter in your eyes is the only thing indicating that you’re only partially joking. there’s a hint of real curiosity in your voice that suguru wishes he could ignore.

“i mean…” he tears his eyes away from yours for a moment, thinking. “i dunno, honestly. i’ve never really thought of something like that.”

bunching your lips to one side, you go back to watching tv. “that’s alright. i was just wondering is all.”

your boyfriend sighs contentedly. “alright.”

you aren’t disappointed, not completely at least. you stumbled across a special twitter account recently, and just couldn’t get the thought of reenacting everything you’d seen with suguru. you couldn’t get the bitchy moans the men made out of your head, or the expressions they made.

taking those faces and translating them onto your significant other turns you on more than you care to admit. the content you’ve been ingesting flickers across your mind, the sounds repeating like a catchy song. you nuzzle your cheek against his crotch, feeling the imprint of suguru’s cock against your face.

“bored of the movies already?” suguru whispers, his fingers gliding over your body to your clothed pussy in response to your nuzzles. he rubs his thick digits right on your clit, making you clench your thighs closed.

“just a little.” you reply breathily. you kiss his growing bulge, listening to him groan. “i have an idea of something else we can do…”

“mm, ‘m way ahead of ya,” he smiles. in seconds, you two have shifted down onto the couch, your shorts are pulled to the side, pussy glistening in his face as you free his cock from his grey sweats.

“so pretty.” suguru sighs, like he’s observing a piece of art. his warm breath hits you, sending shivers rippling up your spine. he attaches his lips to your folds, fighting back a moan as your taste explodes over his tongue.

in his eyes, everything about you is a work of art. from the way you roll your eyes at inconveniences, to the way you laugh loudly and unapologetically, to how your hips naturally dip a little. you’re his goddess, and now he’ll worship you like one.

he laps leisurely at your cunt, addicted to you all over again. you lick a long strip from his base to his tip, making his thighs flex.

“mm, shit.” suguru hums, “do that again, baby.” you oblige with a giggle, then down him in one go, eyes rolling back as he fills your throat perfectly. “fffuck, yeah.”

you two exchange moans on the other, causing a never ending cycle of ecstasy to circulate between the the two of you. one of your hands snakes under his thigh to fondle his balls. your boyfriend shivers when your manicured fingers grasp him.

“ah, agh, y/n.” his masculine whimpers are music to your ears. “shound sho pretty, shugu,” you say around a mouthful of him. “sho pretty.” suguru feels his balls clench at the compliment. it’s not often someone calls him pretty, especially, surprisingly, his own girlfriend. he’d tell you to say it again, but he can’t seem to detach his mouth from your delicious, weeping pussy.

you bob your head on his cock, his tip gliding against the back of your throat easily with the absence of your gag reflex. your saliva pools at his base, some dripping down to where fingers play with his scrotum.

an idea forms slowly in your head as your boyfriend traces the inside of you with his tongue. his big, calloused hands hooked under your thighs, preventing you from squirming away from his fervent eating. you stop fondling him to collect the saliva that rests on his pretty, dark pubes onto your fingers. you suckle on his tip, tongue sliding against his slit mercilessly, to catch a glimpse of him.

he’s still completely enraptured with making out with your cunt, it looks like, making you ever wetter with his groans and him sucking sweetly on your clit. carefully, bottoming him out in your throat as a slight distraction, you let your wet digits wander to his asshole, spreading spit around his unbelievably tight hole.

suguru jolts, his surprise causing him to abruptly stop what he’s doing. “w-what are you- ahh! ohh, God…” his head falls back against the couch cushions, his breath stuttering, heat filling his entire body.

the sensation is…foreign. he’s never explored that area of himself, nor did he ever think he would. suguru assumed he’d always be the one fucking or fingering someone. but, as your curious fingers gently prod at his puckered asshole, he cant deny the butterflies going haywire in his gut, or stifle the high-pitched whines and moans floating effortlessly from his moist lips.

“y-y/n, what are you d-doin?” he gasps. the very tip of you index finger has penetrated him, and it feels like his brain is melting from the pleasure. “oh my God, baby. that’s- you’re- aghn, c-can’t think..”

his inability to formulate coherent sentences is a good sign, at least to you. “d’ya like it? like having my fingers playing with your cute ass?” your voice is sickly sweet, makes his brain even mushier than it already is.

“gotta say something, love.” you remove your finger, making him gasp.

“n-no, put it back!” suguru pleads. he hasn’t experienced being fingered for long, but it’s like he can’t go without the sensation now that he’s had a taste. he pants, looking around your body at the Cheshire smile gracing your beautiful face.

“please, y/n, love. p-put it back, please…” he tries not to sound like he’s begging, but that doesn’t work to well when his words are breathy and full of desperation. this new kind of need, the way his eyes widen with the ache to have your soft fingers in his ass, fills you with power, with dominance you didn't know you needed.

"say it properly. tell me exactly what you want." your fingers tease the smooth skin surrounding the place he so desperately wanted them. he whines, hips grinding against the couch.

"please, i- i want your fingers in my ass. i need it, need them, please!" the small whine that follows his words is the cherry on top.

“okay, but only because you asked so nicely. dont forget what you should be doing back there.” you both resume giving each other mind-boggling head, suguru’s pathetic sounds go straight into your pussy, adding pressure to your lower stomach.

his sphincter muscles spasm around your digit, signaling that he’s going to cum. you suck ferociously on him, groaning hunrgily, beckoning his cum to spill onto your tongue.

“mmph, ‘m gonna cum..gonna cum, y/n.” he mumbles into your cunt, which he struggles to lick as his orgasm crashes down onto him. you pop him out of your mouth and use your other hand to help him along, letting his seed spurt onto your face.

“ah, yes,” you whisper darkly watching him jerk slightly under your touch. “so good for me, sugu, so good..”

he’s breathless, dazed when its all over. you sit upright on his chest, looking over your shoulder at him so he can see the result of his orgasm. seeing your cummed-on face makes him hard all over again.

over the next week, suguru cannot get that moment out of his head. he can’t believe how insanely good it felt to have something inside him. he’s conflicted though: is it less masculine to enjoy being fingered? does it make him less of a man to want to beg for his pleasure?

is it bad that he wants, no, needs something bigger in him? that he needs to venture into that part of intimacy or he feels like he’ll lose his damn mind?

one night, while you were out with some friends, suguru logs into twitter and checks your following. he finds the account that’s ignited your curiosities, and finds himself becoming painfully hard at the things he sees.

one guy, a rather well-built blonde, chokes shamelessly on his lady’s strap before he takes it like a champ in his ass, crying his pleasure and begging for her praise. suguru breathes harshly through his nose, his eyes are glued to his screen.

never, in a million years, would he expect to be aroused by something like this. can it really feel that good? the guy in the video makes it seem like it sure as hell does. he palms himself over his boxers, groaning lowly. his eyes flicker to the bedroom door and he listens, making sure he’s still home alone.

suguru shimmies his briefs down just enough to get his hard dick out. he inhales sharply, dragging his fist from the tip to the base. he replays the video for reference for his own fantasies, ingesting every second like it’ll be the last thing he ever sees. then, he tosses his phone aside, already panting.

God, what he would give to be in that guy’s place and have you in the woman’s. he would swallow your strap so well, let it stretch his throat, let himself be the perfect fleshlight for you. he’d listen and memorize the praise you’d give him like a scripture from the Bible.

suguru’s hand speeds up, soft whimpers falling from his lips. his other hand glides over his perfect abs, toward his dark brown nipples. he pinches the bud between his fingers, moaning desperately. his heart thuds heavily in his chest, his conscience trying to make sense of what the fuck he’s feeling.

what man gets turned on at the thought of getting fucked rather than fucking? why does he so badly want to feel his girlfriend’s skin slap against his as she pounds into him ruthlessly?

that image, you behind him, pegging him while stroking him the way he’s doing it now, makes him arch his back off the bed.

oh, God, how good that’d feel, having his ass stretched like that. the fingers playing with his nipple suddenly find themselves near his ass, pressing tentatively to it. he lubes his fingers up with his saliva, then carefully inserts one into himself. the intrusion, the fervent way he jerks off, the erotic fantasy that dances behind his eyelids, all of it makes his breath stop short in his throat, makes his balls tighten and his moans impudently louder.

as he cums on himself, he cries your name, begging you, thanking you for this climax. he lays in the aftermath of his little session, blushing wildly, as he thinks about his next steps. his first should probably be to clean up, then maybe order a strap on and figure out how to break this down to you.

“and you’re sure you wanna go through with this?” you ask for the fifth time. suguru sighs, exasperated at the fact that you’re still questioning him about this.

“yes, babe, I’m sure. it’s so funny how you were the one to offer this and now you won’t stop asking if I wanna do it. So for the last time, my answer is yes, I want this.” you smile at his attitude, finding it cute that he’s being so bratty.

"no harm in makin sure you're okay with this," you reply with a chuckle, securing the pretty pink strap on he purchased to your naked lower half. "can't believe you'd be so eager for this, 'specially since you were hesitant before." you meet his eyes, there’s a glimmer in yours that makes his heart flutter. "thanks for being so open, suguru."

"of course, babe. now..." he leers at you in all your nude glory as you crawl over to where he lays on his back on your shared kingsized bed. he'd be lying if he said he wasn't equal parts terrified and horny.

you lean over and kiss him, sensing his subtle apprehension. "please, don't hesitate to tell me if your uncomfortable, okay? I want us both to enjoy this." he cups the sides of your neck and pulls you into another, deeper kiss. his tongue slow dances with yours, drawing a soft moan from you.

"I will, I promise." he utters when you two part. you're a little flustered at this point; his kisses have a way of short-circuiting your entire system.

you squirt a dollop of lube onto his asshole, hearing him hiss, and looking up at him with a tinge of worry. his breathing staggers, but he assures you he's okay.

"it's fine, it's just..colder than I expected. and I didn't think you'd- ohhh God." you don't let him finish after he's confirmed he's okay, slipping a finger into him. a smile cracks onto his face, he missed the feeling more than he anticipated.

you study your boyfriend, watch him slowly come undone under you gentle touch. "likin' this, sugu?" you coo, sinking your finger deeper into his tight, greedy walls.

"m-mhm." suguru hums. his tongue swipes over his bottom lip before he tucks it between his teeth. "f-feels good."

"that's a good boy. always wanna make my pretty slut feel good." his dick jumps at the degradation. so many kinks he didn't know he had are being unlocked.

you feel yourself getting wet, feeling it leak down your thighs at the state your boyfriend is in. he's never looked better: spread out for you to tease and torment in the sweetest ways possible. the rapid rise and fall of his broad chest, the red tint in his cheeks that spreads down to his neck, the way his tanned dick twitches as you add another finger, all of it mesmerizes you.

"I think you're good to go. whaddya say?" you ponder after another minute of fingering him. he climbs through the fog in his brain to answer you, his eyes still cloudy with arousal. "y-yeah, im ready. please, be gentle."

"I will," you whisper as you line yourself up with his entrance. his heart races crazily in his chest, like its trying to force its way out. the tip of the strap pokes him and he jumps a little.

"it's okay, I'll go slow." your reassurance calms him a little. first, the tip enters, and the stretch of his hole blanks out his mind. his head falls back onto the bed, his breathing labored. inch by inch, you penetrate your boyfriend, and with each inch he feels himself unraveling.

"oh my G-God, you're all the way in." he whimpers once you bottom out. "slow, please slow."

you only nod, a primal dominance having hijacked your mind. your thrusts are slow at first, wanting to abide by his wishes to not scare or hurt him. but with each moan, each whine that comes from suguru's lips, your control slips and you speed up.

"ah, ahh this is so- so fuck.. can’t think.” his grits through teeth. his sounds are so pretty, just like him. you now wholeheartedly believe that all men, regardless of how masculine they portray themselves to be, should be rendered to such a pathetic yet angelic state.

“aww, my slut feels so good he can’t think? does my cock feel that good, honey?” there goes that saccharine tone again, the one that makes his stomach tighten.

“y-yes, ‘s really good.” he mewls. as good as your dick feels in him, it’s somehow not enough. he needs to feel more, wants to get closer to that blissful release. so, he guides his hand down to his leaking cock, ready to pump himself to the rhythm of your thrusts.

you notice this and a sinister smirk curls your lips. you slap his hands away, watching his eyes widen with shock. "no touching. keep those hands on your chest, filthy fuckin whore."

your sudden meanness startles as much as it arouses suguru. he's never heard this kind of tone with you, and he's not afraid to admit that he likes it. "y-yes ma'am, 'm sorryy." he concedes breathlessly.

he’s cupping his large pecs like they're tits, the most perfect fucking tits. "there ya go, keep those hands to yourself. good whore." you sneer.

it's not long before he aches for more stimulation again. pinching his nipples, he gives you the saddest puppy dog eyes, "baby, t-touch me. 'm so leaky, please, n-need to feel your hand..!"

a firm slap to his thigh yanks a yelp out of him. "who the fuck do you think you're talking to? is that anyway to ask for anything? stupid slut.." you sound so mean, his dick twitches. "try again."

he swallows accumulated saliva and fails to speak. he can't seem to get around the wanton moans that endlessly slip past his lips. you slap his thigh again, reminding him of he wants.

"please, m-miss, please touch me. please touch my dick, 'm sorry for b-being so demanding. touch me, im beggin you!" drool slides down the side of his mouth, catching the light in the room.

“think you deserve it, deserve my touch? speak up, whore.” another spank, another howl-like moan.

“I don’t deserve it! I’m a dirty whore, i don deserve it, b-but please!” you like the way he lowers himself for you just for the sake of being pleasured, so you oblige, stroking his wet cock in time with your thrusts.

the slapping of your skin on his, the heat and vibrations from the impact of your slaps makes precum leak endlessly from his tip, helping you as you jerk him off, the way you speak to him like he's nothing fills his stomach with warm fuzziness that he's positive is not normal.

this is all he's dreamed of, he realizes. he's wanted this, wanted to be told what to do, wanted to be dominated. he could care less whether this makes him less of a man or not, it makes him feel like he’s on cloud nine, and that’s suguru cares about. “thank you, thank you..” he utters between moans like he’s praying. “thank youu..”

“takin me so well, sugu. makes me think you’ve taken cock before. well? you whore yourself out for any one else?” you’re panting from the exertion of thrusting into him. a thin film of sweat gleams on your skin, your pussy weeps for his cock. if he’s good, maybe you can use him to cum afterwards. “n-no, ‘m only a slut for you. need only your c-cock.” being on the delivery end of that word is something else, something he’ll probably (most definitely) never get tired of.

“aghn, wait, wait ‘m gonna cum! miss, p-please!” he wants this to last forever. as much as he wants to cum, to spray it all over himself like the nasty little cockwhore he is, he doesn’t want this feeling to end.

“aw yeah? My cockslut’s gonna cum? hmm?” your sugary tone builds the pressure in his core. “I think I’ll let you. mhm, cum all over yourself f’me.”

you jerk him faster, pound into him harder. the tip jabs at his prostrate with unforgiving force, making his moans border screams. “miss, miss i’m gonna cuuumm!” tears slip down his face into his ears, momentarily muffling the world.

“then cum, bitch. cum for your mistress.” that word feels so right in regards to you. you snap your hips with a level of expertise that he has when fucks you senseless. “cum for me, cum for me, cum for me.”

your carnal chats are all he can hear. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, ahh, ahhn!” ropes of his milky white cum shoot out of his tip, painting his chiseled chest. you stroke every last drop out of him, smiling all the while as suguru gasps and convulses from the overstimulation.

“no more, no more… ‘s too much, please, miss..” and more incoherent babbles along those lines tumble from his mouth. you lean down and collect some of his seed onto your tongue, then harshly gripping his chin, your force your tongue into his mouth. he hums contently at tasting himself, eyes rolling back into his skull. when you two part, a thin trail of spit connects your mouths.

you both come back down to earth, the lustful glaze that was once harbored in your eyes slowly retreating. you pull out and suguru feels empty.

“that..that was amazing.” your peggable boyfriend sighs, running a hand through his dark locks. “gotta do this again, I’m being so serious.”

you chuckle, removing your strap on and mounting him. he hisses, still sensitive from his recent orgasm. “oh we will, trust me. but there’s another matter that needs to be taken care of..” you slide your sopping pussy along his hardening dick.

“I haven’t cum yet.” your smile is as sadistic as it’s ever been, and suguru thinks he’s falling in love again.

“let’s take care of that then.”

[mondaymelon]

— 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ! ₊˚ෆ | albedo, xiao, childe x gn!reader

— cw: reader thinks theyre in a one sided love, accidental confessions + d r u g s, ig? do love potions count as that. these potions dont create fake feelings, they just amplify the affections he already has for you !! fluffy :)

[ The very man you've been longing for has finally fallen in love with you !? Ah, no... Instead, does it have to do with this mysterious pink elixir they've drunk? ]

"Oh? This shade..."

ALBEDO's eyes glitter with the glass' reflections, holding the test tube up against the light. The pink fluid within sloshes inside its confinements, shimmering in the sun's rays. "Strange." With his free hand, he whips out his pencil and pad, busy writing down notes in small handwriting, evenly spaced and well lined. "This formula should've been for a health recovery potion, which is red... How come the color is so light?"

"'Bedo, I'm here." Your voice rang into the previously quiet laboratory as you fling the door open, the invading wind carrying flakes of snow along with it. The blonde's eyes narrows at the sight of the inconvenience, dipping his head in silent greeting as he walks over and closes the door behind you. "What are you doing holed up here today too?"

"More work matters." He's about to close his mouth, already moved on from the brief conversation, but instead perks up, eyes rounding the slightest. "Ah, do you think you could offer some assistance?"

"Assistance?" You trail after him, eyeing the various ongoing experiments on the other tables, up until your eyes land on the practically glowing liquid that emanates a honey-like smell. "What, do you want me to drink that?"

Albedo immediately shakes his head. "No, there's no need to endanger your safety like that. I'll do the honors of consuming it, but I'd appreciate it if you could take some observations and write them down. Is that alright with you?"

A part of you was almost surprised at the relationship "progression", if one could even call it that. You had had your eye on Albedo ever since you had managed to get yourself lost in these mountains, only to stumble upon his lab at your wits end, helplessly shivering and lashes decorated with frost. He had nursed you back to health, and then provided directions back to Mondstadt... Since then, you had made it a habit to frequently visit the quiet male, whether providing just some company or bringing a snack or two, you just wanted a way to show your thanks! Somehow, somewhere along the line, you had developed feelings for him, feelings that you were rather sure he'd never be able to reciprocate.

"That... That seems doable enough?" You blink, hesitantly grabbing the pen that lay on the desk. "Just... ah- you should worry for your own health too, y'know?"

Albedo glances at you, taking the tub in his hands. "I'll be fine." And down it goes. Silence, at first, then his legs sway beneath him. You let out a noise of surprise, instantly moving to offer support, but the male manages to steady himself on the table, instead holding his hand out to keep you away. "Aha... oh, so it was that kind of concoction..."

Sensing the exasperation in his tone only alights more concern. "Is it dangerous? H-Hey, let's lie you down somewhere, and then we can-"

Your worries are effectively silenced as his... lips fall upon yours, jewel-like irises that shone with almost unnoticeable hearts, both his hands cupping your face in a touch so delicate you could've sworn it was never there, and the warmth from his pale, burning skin..

And just like that, you heard the usually level-headed and composed alchemist cursed under his breath for the first time. "No, it wasn't supposed to be like this-"

A shy flush left kisses on his features. He had always waited for the right time for his moves, albeit unnatural ones. It was far easy acting with equations and predicted outcomes, but you... you were something so natural, you made him thoughtless so effortlessly. It took him every effort to allow his usual expression to remain on his face, to not voice his feelings. Not now, he'd chide to himself. I'm not ready.

"...A-Albedo, what..." Stupid as you may be, it'd be impossible not to realize it, especially with the way his usually cool skin flamed with heat. "...A fucking love potion?" You touched a finger to your lips, still stunned.

"I'm sorry." He's ashamed, for being unable to control himself under the potion's influence. "The antidote, it's on the table." Dutifully, you hand it to him, your fingers brushing against his in the process.

"Ah-"

"I like you."

It hurts, to hear him say those words that you've been wishing to hear for far longer than you care to admit. "...What? 'Bedo, c'mon, drink the antidote, and then we can hold a proper conversation. You're not in your right mind right now."

"I've already drunken it." Was the moment now? The empty glass falls from his hand and onto the table, rolling to a still. "I like you."

"...What? No, is the cure not working or something, what is-" It couldn't be, but his turquoise-eyed gaze was clear.

"Must I state it once more? I love you." ₊˚ෆ

"Just what is it you have you brought me?"

XIAO's brows furrow with discontentment... or rather, disinterest. You were a peculiar mortal, it was an easy enough fact to gather from his encounters with you. And while he didn't find himself particularly delighted when you appeared, calling it annoyed would be a bit of a stretch. It's a flicker of a thousand emotions at once across the mask of his expression, all but one of them displayed for your viewing - indifference.

His golden, cat-like pupils stare down the small vial you've procured and gifted him, narrowing with suspicion in your growing silence. He prompts once more, "This is?"

"Hmm, think of it as a gift?" You chuckle sheepishly, recalling the rather shady conversation you had days prior, in a small store hidden away in the very edge of the city market.

"Dearest customer, perhaps you'd like this product? It's very popular amongst the young city goers these days, and I have a feeling you've been looking for something similar."

...A scam? "Sorry, I'm not interested-"

"It works. You're in love with someone, right?"

"How did you-"

"There's this distant look in your eyes. I see it all the time. Now, if you'll just purchase this..."

And just like that, you had been probably swindled into buying a likely useless product off of his hands. At the very least, you could use it to hold a brief conversation with the aloof adeptus who often decided to not turn up at all. "It's... a thank you gift for protecting Liyue all these years...?" In the corner of your vision that greatly encompasses a wonderful view of your shoes, you spot the unwavering features of Xiao's face give the slightest waver.

"There's no need to thank me." He says it all apathetically, yet accepts the gift. "You still have yet to answer my question, however. Of what nature is this object?"

"Ah... well, you see, I don't exactly know either? You could call it a local specialty, of sorts..." You weren't exactly lying, were you? You didn't know what it was, although by it's heart-shaped container and pinkish color you could likely wager a guess or two... but it was better to remain ignorant. At least that way, you wouldn't be to blame if anything unfortunate occurred.

Oh, but was such a term the correct word to describe such a happening? Had it all gone "wrong" the moment you bought the suspicious thing, or was it when you handed it to him, watching him drain the container of its fluid? Either way, something found its way inside your heart the moment the adeptus set the glass down with enough force to hear the sound of its surface fracturing into thousands of spiderwebbed lines.

"The glass... Xiao, are you alright?" You stepped forward worryingly upon seeing the adeptus clutch his forehead with his hand, eyes fluttered shut. Don't tell me... holy shit, was it the real deal? I'm so fucked.

"You..." His voice was deep, husky, almost with a raspy note as his eyes opened to reveal his sharp amber eyes. "What did you just give me? What are you doing to... me?" He grew silent as his slight stumbling paused, a hand gripping the balcony railing for tentative support.

When you met his gaze again, his eyes shone. Gold, no longer, but rosy pink, adorned with bright pupils cut in the shape of hearts. His breaths left small clouds of white that escaped his mouth with every quickened exhale against the cold air, yet despite the chill, his cheeks and ears were dusted with an almost feverish red.

You shake your head, wanting to step closer but growing afraid. Fuck, just how were you supposed to explain yourself? After pursuing your pathetic, so-called "advances" towards the man in hopes of one day achieving a level of intimacy, in longing of hearing those three, beautiful words part from his open lips... Ah, but you've screwed it all up now, haven't you? You might as well have fed him poison. "N-No, I didn't think it would actually-"

"I love you."

It's quiet.

Or perhaps its thunderous. That is, the sound of your heart in your ears, pounding without any heed of the absolute mess of emotions coursing through your veins at the moment. This wasn't right. He didn't love you, not in the way you loved him. An illusion, this was, a painful ploy that would do nothing to sway his heart.

"...No, no." You shake your head, taking a step back, too ashamed to meet his eye. "Xiao, you don't. It's... I'm sorry.""

"No, I do love you."

What? His eyes, his astonishingly gilded eyes, they've rid themselves of their hearts, yet the words still remain in his mouth.

You blink your eyes once, and then once more. "This…?"

"Adepti are naturally immune to such a thing. To fall for such petty tricks would be foolish to the highest degree. Despite this..." Xiao sidled closer, a hand covering the lower half of his face. "Does that mean... you wanted me to love you?"

Would he leave you if he knew?If such a thing could be possible. Unbeknownst to you, the male held some sentiments of the same regard, but how to address them lay far beyond his area of expertise. "And if I did, Xiao? What then?"

"I'm not well versed in the ways of mortals, but surely, I'd do this."

...His lips were soft. ₊˚ෆ

"Ahaha, so it's a gift for me?"

CHILDE grinned with delight, seizing the bottle from your hands into his. "Pink," was his only comment as his eyes swept over the vial. "Is this... valberry juice, or something?"

"Not quite~" You smiled mischievously, aware that no matter how many questions he asked, you'd be partaking in none of them. "Besides, it's more fun if it's a surprise, no?"

"Mmm, but the cute shape of it is making me pretty curious..." Childe's voice trailed off as he ran a single gloved finger across its glass expanse, clearly enjoying himself. "Well, I suppose there's nothing else to do but 'find out', yeah?"

Hmm, would it be a pleasant discovery? You toyed with the idea and he drunk the substance. The sleazy-looking merchant that had sold you such a product had claimed to be a "magician" of some sorts. A bold claim, since you had traveled to the waters of Fontaine in occasions prior and witnessed a true magician in the act - although that was irrelevant. Either way, you had let your curiosity get the better of you, and impulsively bought it just to own the thing. It didn't require a large chunk of your wallet, nor was it completely useless... that is, as long as it was potent. If it wasn't, then you could laugh it off, saying it was something you concocted for the fun of it and he was your test subject, but on the offchance it did...

A guilty expression flitted across your face. You had held feelings for the harbinger since he had been stationed at the harbor, at first only courageous enough to gaze at him from afar, admiring the way his lips curved upwards in a smile and the way the sun's rays reflected across his deep eyes that resembled troubled waters. Somehow, one lucky incident had led to another, and now the two of you were considered friends, yet you longed for something more...

Perhaps this "potion" would help you settle things. It was time you escaped from your daydreams and delusions, time to put your heart to rest. The two of you were friends, and you should be content with just that-

"Damn, this shit is strong." Childe let out a low whistle, and you almost felt inclined to applaud him. "Sweet, too. Not bad."

"...Ha?" You shook yourself out of your stupor. Fuck, who gave him the right to look so pretty doing menial things? "So... You like it?"

"You could say that, but I think I like you more~"

"I'm... sorry?" May the archons remind you to report that man to the Millelith later for witchcraft! "Are you drunk?"

"You're a sly thing, aren't you?" Since when had he gotten so close? "Acting all oblivious now that I've caught you in your act, did you really think I wouldn't notice?" He held the now empty, heart-shaped bottle between his pointer finger and thumb, chuckling. "These things are notorious among the underworld, you know, although I certainly didn't expect this dearest friend of mine to bring such a thing to me... what a riot!"

"Ah..." All the words that you could've said in the moment seemed to fly out of your head, and now you only gaped at him, mouth ajar. "Uhm..."

"You're lucky I've been trained to be immune from 'poisons', if you could call it that. That way, I can say that it wasn't a lie."

"...A lie?"

"I like you."

"Wait, but I- I just did that to you, and you're-"

"What, that? It's funny, if anything... besides, it just shows that you want me as much as I want you, no?" ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) sigh i got burnt out near the end so childe's part is about 300 words short im sorry ginger lovers... </3 happy new year eve (timezones are so weird lmao) !! ill be posting a fic tomorrow for that too most likely sooooo watch out for that ig? it would be ever so cool if you followed me . p le a. se. im like 10 away from a big silly number and id actually give you eternal kisses if you do

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader, @fiannee, @aether-darling 

reblogs appreciated !!

[a-twistedheartslonging]

Sniff and Bite

Soft Yan, Scent kink, Biting, No sex but he's a little handsy and gets a boner

“Eh, Kitten? Think ya could help me with that box over there?”

Looking up from the book they were glancing at the cover off, they looked to the hyena who was currently tossing more of Leona’s dirty clothes into a hamper.

“Mmm? Yeah, sure thing Ruggie Senpai.”

“Just Ruggie.”

They paused, a soft laugh leaving them that had the beastmen flick his ears and look the side shyly.

“Yes, Ruggie.” They said, teasing in their tone.

Sitting up from the messy bed they made their way over to the box, full and random nick-nacks and rarely worm accessories that Ruggie had set aside.

They eyed it for a moment, trying to think of the best way to get the heavy box up while a certain hyena stared intently at their back.

With a hint of dramatic flair, they pushed up the sleeves of their baggy uniform shirt and crouched down to seal the top properly before digging their fingers into the edges of the bottom. They pulled it up into the air and caught it with a huff, muscles flexing, before heading to Leona’s closest. 

Blueish-gray eyes dilate as they watch the human work.

Gazing from their back to their sweaty neck, his addam’s apple bobbed down with a swallow. The dorm was stiflingly hot and that long sleeve they were wearing wasn't helping at all. He couldn't help but salivate at the scent of their sweat.

Fuck, why they gotta smell so good?

His heart thundered in his chest as blood rushed downward, where he really didn't want it going. For months he had felt the need to watch them, to keep them close, to do...something. It brought out his baser instincts, though he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just nature telling him what he needed.

It is annoying, frustrating, and all-around inconvenient. Especially with all he already has on his plate, but maybe this could be something good, a reward even.

He deserves to finally have something nice after all.

With a slight stretch, they were finally able to get the heavy box onto the shelf. Backing out of the closet space they closed its door before letting out a yelp as Ruggie suddenly pressed into their back, trapping them against the closet door.

"Ruggie! Wha-" they started, cut off as calloused hands trailed up their bare arms. They felt his hot breath against their cheek and shivered at the feeling, tensing as he took a deep inhale. A hand slid to their neck, and gave a gentle squeeze, before moving to the front of their shirt and pulling down, buttons popping free as shoulders were exposed.

"Ru..ah...Ruggie..." they whimpered softly. The heat of his breath on their ear made them shudder as Ruggie pressed his face into the crook of their sweat-slicked neck.

"You smell so soft en' sweet..." he murmured, and they laughed awkwardly.

"Uh...thanks?"

A possessive growl rumbled in his throat as he ground against them, and they felt something hard press into their backside. Flustered, they tried to turn their head but stopped when Ruggie spoke again, voice a deep purr.

“Hey…”

They paused.

“Uhm…yes…?”

"Just.. .just a few licks and a bite. That would be okay, yeah?"

His voice had dipped into a purring lull, they couldn't help but flush and feel butterflies at his tone. His voice was also…slurred. They were a bit muddled about what he was asking.

Confused, they stammered "Wh-what do you mean?" before letting out a soft moan as sharp fangs dragged against their neck, followed by his hot tongue.

"Don't move..." he warned.

“Wh-” That's when they felt it. Letting out a squeal they felt sharp teeth sink into the tender flesh between their neck and shoulder. 

[ohnoitstbskyen]

I heard a raw line from Guilllermo Del Toro the other day about monsters being the perfect way to express human failure:

“…monsters, I believe, are patron saints of our blissful imperfection, and they allow and embody the possibility of failing.”

And i was wondering your take on this quote in relation to things like vampire and werewolf and other semi-monster subtexts. “Monstrous” humans that are ironically allowed to act more human more often than… humans. I just find the attempt to make an outlet for imperfection while still at large criticizing it fascinating.

I mean, yeah, there's a long history of interpreting monsters through queer, anti-colonial, feminist and other Outsider lenses for exactly those reasons. The monster is the Other who is vilified by the in-group, which represents all that the in-group hates. The monster must, by its nature, fail to live up to the standards and expectations of the in-group, which is why it must be destroyed. But that also means the monster is free from the standards and expectations of the in-group, including oppressive and bigoted ones.

So, as an example, if you're queer, and rhetorically treated as inhuman and monstrous and diseased anyway, or eugenically classified as a deviant mutation or sub-derivation of "real" people, there is real appeal and a real sense of resistance in claiming monsterhood, in embracing it and glorying in it.

In part, that's what the rallying cry "we're here, we're queer, get used to it!" meant and still means. It is a reclaiming of monsterhood as a source of strength and community and pride, rather than shame. Slurs are used to Other queer people, to set them apart from "real" people and mark them out as a monstrous deviation from the virtuous norm - slurs are used to call us monsters. And thus a lot of queer people find a lot of power and freedom in reclaiming them, in turning their Othering into a flag to rally around.

And I think that's still a big part of the appeal of the monster, honestly, that freedom from being what someone else thinks you ought to be.

If you're a monster, you don't have to have the perfect body, you don't have to suppress your lust or your love. You don't have to shave your body hair or dress correctly for your assigned gender, or have a white picket fence house with a spouse and 2.3 children. You don't have to sit primly at the dinner table, you don't have to repress your emotions, you don't have to hate the foreigner or despise the gays or fear the trans agenda. You don't have to have a small, straight nose or perfect cheekbones, you don't have to wait to fuck until you're married, or pretend you want to fuck at all. You don't have to want to get rich or be a CEO, you don't have to pull yourself up by your bootstraps or be on your grindset, or cheer when the cops clear out a homeless camp.

To be a monster is to be free from the inhumanity that is forced on us by white supremacy, by fatphobia, by heteronormativity, by imperialism, and by the interests of capital. To be a monster is to be human in all the ways that are inconvenient to oppression.

... but I went off on a tangent there a little bit - vampires and werewolves, right. I have no theoretical or academic basis for any of this, so this is entirely a personal hot take, but I think vampires are perhaps a bit more about "passing" as a fantasy. Not necessarily in a gender sense, but the ability to keep your true nature undetected by the "normal" folk, while the secret things that make you different also make you dangerous and powerful. Surviving by stealing sustenance from a world that hates you, on terms that are entirely yours to dictate. "I will survive even if it kills you," that kind of vibe.

Werewolves, on the other hand, feel more like a defiant, angry embrace of the monstrous. Transforming into something vast and powerful and furious, growing out of your skin, out of your form, out of your boundaries; howling your nature to the moon and mauling any motherfucker who has a problem with it. Giving in to all the beastly unnatural urges, and diving into the horrible monstrous wants and desires that boil inside you (which, remember, include things like Not Wanting To Fuck or Wanting To Hold A Girl's Hand In A Lesbian Sort Of Way). Less the "I outfoxed your social game and drank you dry" slick vampire power fantasy and more the "call me a slur one more time and I'm going to wear your entrails like a fucking scarf" power fantasy.

Again, that's just personal hot takes, everyone's understanding of the monstrous in relation to themselves is different. I've seen a number of genderfluid and nb people use monstrousness as a way to defy occupying a shape that can be gendered for example.

[joemama-2]

THE BALLERINA

synopsis: Gojo Satoru is a man of power, status, and strength. nowhere in his life does he have time for relationships, let alone love. but he starts to question his boundaries when a pretty ballerina catches his attention.

tags/warnings: gojo x fem reader, minor fluff, angst, major character death, depression, strong language, sexual content, self-harm

word count: 2972

divider credit @cafekitsune

This story begins with a man and a woman. These two are from completely different worlds. They were brought together by nothing more than a simple bump-in occurrence. At least, that’s what the woman thinks. In reality, the man has been watching her for a while now. A man like him shouldn’t be nervous, but the woman makes him feel just that. She doesn’t even know she does it, it’s natural. And that scares the man.

Anywho, there’s a man and a woman. 

This man is named Gojo Satoru. The woman….is you. 

Now, this is not about how two strangers fell in love. It’s about how time got the best of them. How simple mistakes led to a downfall. Pay close attention because as soon as you think you have him, you don’t. Or maybe…it’s him who doesn’t.

Gojo first sees you while you’re on stage. You look beautiful, stunning, shining (literally). There’s others on stage with you, but his eyes stay on you for some odd reason. The auditorium is large, many of its attendants dressed up for the formal occasion. They watch on in awe, some even recording subtly. There’s others who whisper amongst themselves about the entertainers. 

“Wow, look at that one, her form is excellent.”

“Oh my, I love this part.”

“So beautiful.”  

The last part is muttered by him. He says it to no one, considering he’s alone. But a small part of him hopes you can hear the praise that’s directed at you. Of course you can’t. But he hopes. Hope is something funny to have, isn’t it?

His arms are crossed over his chest, a small smile on his face as he focuses on the way your body twists and twirls, toes pointed high in the air. There’s a smile on your face too, it’s fitting for the setting. The white fabric looks stunning on you, but you know what looks even more stunning?

Your eyes.

Gojo Satoru admitting someone has prettier eyes than him? How comical. But really, he’s right. He almost jumps in his seat as your eyes make the briefest of glances to scan your audience and he swears you saw him. Again, he hope you did. 

Hope will be a recurring theme in this story, you’ll come to find out.

Gojo is the first to stand and clap once the performance finishes, the rest of the attendants following soon after. You and your other girls smile, giving a small bow of appreciation. And just like that, the curtains close and the lights slowly start to turn back on. He wants to rewind time and watch it from the beginning, watch you from the beginning. If only being the holder of the Six Eyes and Limitless allowed him to time travel, that would’ve been very helpful in this story. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Here you are.” Gojo’s arm reaches up to grab the canned pineapples the employees just had to put on the highest shelf. 

You’re a little shocked by the presence of this strange man, but ultimately smile politely. “Oh, thank you so much.” with a nod, you grab the can from his hand and place it in your basket. “Don’t know why they do that, it’s a bit of an inconvenience.”

He chuckles, head tilting. “I bet. Luckily I was around, huh?”

Your laugh almost puts him in a daze. “Yeah, luckily.”

You thought that would be the last time you would ever see the man, you were wrong, of course. At first, it was creepy. You remember calling him out on it.

“How come you’re everywhere I turn?”

“I’m a magician, that’s why?”

“Or a creepy stalker?”

“More like a curious one.”

After that conversation, it didn’t help your suspicions. But he never went further than talking. Your optimistic, or maybe naive, side took over. So eventually, you let it be. If Gojo was there, that would mean you weren’t too far away. Days turned into weeks, then months, then a year.

A whole year since you met him. It’s almost baffling how time moves so quick. Just like Gojo, you wish you could go back. He never misses a recital, practice, anything. Gojo is always there to support you whether that’s on the sidelines or helping you stretch. 

His hands feel too warm for you, like it’s a familiar sensation that you haven’t yet recgonized where from. That thought throws you off a little bit but you’ve been pushing it away for a while now. Within the year you’ve known each other,you’ve come to learn that not only is he incredibly handsome, but he’s incredibly secretive. You don’t like secrets. You never have and never will. Secrets for what? What is that other person hiding? The uncertainty draws you away and the fact that he’s not even comfortable telling you. When in all honesty, you’ve told him too much.

He’s only told you he’s an only child and that he’s loaded. Well, he didn’t exactly tell you the first part. But the second he pulled out his black card when buying you a new pair of slippers after you others ones have been used for too many years, that was when it clicked. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gojo and you became close, maybe even too close. Labels and boundaries have been lost anf thrown to the wind. Maybe you’re friends. Maybe you’re more than that? I mean, do friends really touch each other like you guys do? Say the things you guys say? Well scratch that, there’s one boundary Gojo has set in place.

He doesn’t do relationships.

You were okay with that, really. Because at the same time, you weren’t looking for a boyfriend. You were too focused on yourself, learning the new dance for each upcoming recital, making sure you’re form was the best of the best. You were a perfectionist. So essentially, you agreed to his terms.

But can you really blame yourself? Who wouldn’t begin to feel a shift with the way he held you and fucked you like you were his lover, his wife, his soulmate? Never did you voice your opinions because you were conflicted. He was the first man who showed you everything, he was your first. You tell yourself it’s normal and that if you get involved with others, these weird feelings will fade.

However, you should’ve thought twice about saying this to Gojo while he was balls deep in your sweet cunt.

“I…I have a date tomorrow night.”

He freezes mid thrust, muscles automatically tensing. When he pulls his head back from the crook of your neck, the looks in his eyes in different, unrecognizable. Theres a frown on his face, a stark contrast to what it was before and he almost seems angry.

“You what?”

With hazy eyes, it’s hard to focus on him as his face hovers above your own. His hand holds your jaw, titling it up. The silence is tense. You suddenly get the feeling that you made a big mistake because although there’s anger in his eyes, you can see a hint of betrayal hidden underneath. Your lips part but words fail you.

“What did you just say?”

“What’s….what’s wrong?” you ask back, wincing as he pulls out completely. Immediately, you clock in on the fact that he’s turning around, reaching down for his boxers and pants he discarded on the floor. Panic sets in and you sit up hastily, using the duvet to cover your bare form. “Satoru, why–what are you doing?”

“Getting dressed.”

“But why? I thought we were–”

“Have some things to take care of.”

His response scares you and you almost want to cry with how things have changed so quickly. Your hand reaches out for his arm. “Are you mad at me? Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

Gojo hates how your voice can make his expression falter, but he pushes through, gently removing his arm back as he stands. “It’s not you, I just realized something.”

“Satoru–” you stand with him, tears threatening to fall down. He doesnt turn around to face you, even while buttoning his shirt back up, grabbing the dark glasses he left on the bedside table. You don’t even realize you’re trembling before a broken sniffle leaves your lips.

He hates the sound, hates when you’re like this. He hates that he caused this. For a moment, he closes his eyes and he turns around, forcing his casual smile back on his face. You see right through it, he knows you do. So why is he still faking? “Don’t worry, okay? I’ll see you around.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was weeks until you saw him again. And when you did, you knew things weren’t the same. His touch never lingered longer than it should, no more stupid flirty remarks, no more winks, no more sex. It was strictly…..friendly. 

You didn’t know if you hated it.

You fall to the ground with a frustrated huff, shaky hands clenching into fists at yet another failed attempt of a cabriole. The recital is in five days and you can’t get this part right. It doesn’t help when the others have moved way past this point, sometimes regarding you with looks of concern and impatience. You were disgusted with that, but you were even more disgusted with yourself. You force yourself back on your feet and walk back to the starting position.

“Maybe you should take a break. You’re obviously frustrated and you won’t be able to–”

“I will.” your sharp voice cuts off his, gulping down the lump that has formed in your throat. 

Satoru knows better than to try you when you’re like this, so he swallows down his words and keeps off to the side, a water bottle in hand. His glasses are still on and when you give him a glance, your irritation skyrockets. Did he really not even want to look at you? Has he become that repulsed by you? He has some nerve, blowing you off and treating you like a stranger. You didn’t even do anything and he’s being a complete asshole about everything for no rea–

Your thoughts are cut off by a sharp pain shooting through your ankle. You hadn’t even felt your body move, it was as if it had a mind of its own. While your thoughts were filled with vile insults, you failed yet again. Why are you failing so much all of a sudden?

Your form crumples down to the floor with a shriek, instantly holding the injured limb. Satoru’s body moves on its own too, within the second he’s by your side with wide concerned eyes.

“Shit, are you okay? Where does it hurt?”

His words don’t do anything. You can’t even offer a response because you’re too preoccupied with pain and anger. You can’t do something that you’ve been spent years dedicating yourself to. Sleepless nights and injury upon injury, this should be a slice of cake. It should be easy. But just like with Satoru, you feel different. Forcing yourself to dance, forcing yourself to a blind devotion, forcing yourself to be unhappy. But, since when has ballet made you unhappy? You didn’t know.

“Get away.” you mutter quietly.

His brows furrow and he leans closer. “Wha–”

“I said get the hell away from me.”

Using your upper body strength, you push him away. You wished you hadn’t. But he pushed you away that night, so why can’t you return the favor? “Get out and don’t come back. You’re making me mess up.”

He doesn’t speak for a moment. Gojo Satoru speechless is a funny sight, if this were a different situation, you would’ve laughed. But you don’t, you can’t. He finally finds his voice. “You’re not serious.”

That pushes you even more, gritting your teeth as you look up at him. “I’m dead serious. Get the hell out. Don’t touch me and don’t even talk to me. Your entire presence is a distraction and I hate you for it.”

You knew what you were saying was wrong and hurtful. You were aware of that fact. But they still tumbled out. You still cried in front of him once more. And he still turned his back on you.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Working with an injured ankle isn’t for the weak. It isn’t for anyone. Your teacher and doctor would’ve advised you not to, but they didn’t know. You didn’t even remember the last time you slept or ate properly. Everything disgusted you and you intentionally avoided the mirrors in your apartment, covering them with blankets. 

However the pain of forcing yourself to use your ankle, the pain of starving yourself, the pain of just existing is something you started to savor. You would laugh to yourself wondering what went wrong. How long have you been feeling like this? Was meeting Satoru just the catalyst to your inevitable destruction? 

As you stand on stage in front of the suddenly blinding lights in a suddenly uncomfortable attire, you pray in your head to whatever god that’s listening to save you. To take you away from whatever hell you were being subjected to. You’re holding your tears in so it won;t ruin the makeup you spent hours on. Your movements feel stiff and forced, hands tembling while you can barely even present a smile on your face.

You just had to have a solo segment. You just had  to say yes to it. You’re people pleasing even to the end.

Gojo Satoru just had to be in the crowd. 

You two just had to make eye contact.

And you just had to fall in front of everyone. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A sudden call too late at night alerts Satoru while he’s sitting at is dining table that’s too big for one person. He almost doesn’t want to answer, but as soon as he sees the familiar name, he’s answering on instinct.

It’s silent on the other end for a second and he begins to think you buttdialed him. That’s until he hears your voice for the first time in who knows how long. And God, you don’t sound like yourself at all. “Satoru?”

His heart is cracking while listening to you. You sound defeated, almost scared. But why? “Y/n.”

There’s a breathy chuckle on the other end. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Of course not.” he wants to say it’s because he can barely sleep at a regular time, but he holds back. “I’ve been up.”

More silence. 

“Ah, I see.” he can hear the contemplation in your voice. “I didn’t mean to call so suddenly, I’m just….thinking.”

“About what?”

“You.”

Satoru’s heart clenches and twist in an ugly manner. “Funny, I was just thinking about you too.”

And you laugh again, so does he. For once, it felt nice. For once, it felt like how it did before.

“Are you busy right now?”

“No.” is his automatic response. 

“Okay, I’m glad. Can you…come over?”

Come over? He hasn’t been over since that dreadful night. Anxiety porus through his veins and he gulps, hesitating for a small second before nodding. “Of course I can.”

“I’ve just….I’ve missed you. Wanted to hear your voice.”

He’s already grabbing his keys and heading out. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His long legs lead him to his car quickly, getting in and balancing the phone between his shoulder and ear. “I’ve missed you too.”

You smiled and you wish he could’ve saw it. 

“I’ll see you then.”

“...See you.” 

Three words are on the tip of you guys’ tongues. Three words. But even three words can be hard to admit. So, you hung up on him.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your apartment is empty when he walks in, confused using the spare key you know he knows about to get in. For some reason you always left it there. It’s like you wanted him to come and see you even when you said you didn’t.

After some wandering, he goes into your bedroom. Flashbacks and nostalgia hits him like cold water. His legs feel shaky all of a sudden and his breath hitches. There’s a small box on your bed that draws his attention. It’s white and wrapped with a red ribbon. Carefully he unwraps it, dread filling his stomach and heart pounding fast. Static is the only thing he hears.

As he opens the box, a pair of ballet shoes greet him.

Yours. 

Not just that, but a small letter.

He opens it with too much force, hands shaking. 

“I’m sorry. I really hope you don’t stay mad at me.

I had so much fun meeting you and giving you everything I had.

Please, live on for me.”

His feet are moving before he can fully register it, calling you as he searches through the apartment for you. Tears fill his pretty eyes and short labored breaths are emitted from his mouth.

His world stops spinning when he hears your phone ring in the barely open bathroom door. In truth, Satoru had a feeling he knew what he was going to find once he entered. His mind knew, but his soul didn’t want to.

Because before him is a sight he can never erase from his memories. 

A bathtub filled with dark water. A bathtub he would bathe with you in sometimes, rubbing your back and combing shampoo through you hair while you giggled.

You’re in it still.

Laying upright with no life in your eyes, a knife in your hand that has toppled over the rim.

If you asked Satoru what he thought in that moment, this would be it.

He wished he died with you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And so that’s it. The story of the man and the woman. Happy endings are something neither were familiar with. 

The man now only has a memory that he’ll keep burned into his brain forever, of the woman.

The memory of,

The beautiful ballerina.

a/n: this story was loosely based off the korean film "ballerina". i loved it so much and it was just SO beautiful to watch. anyways, thank you all for reading! much love!

[undertheorangetree]

Snowed In

Summary- A snow storm leads to an opportunity.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Modern Aemond. Cat Vhagar is modern AU canon. Friends to lovers vibe. Thigh riding. Blowjob. Cunnilingus. P in V sex. Safe sex practices for once. Probably ooc Aemond cuz he's experiencing joy.

Author's Note- Yes all of my fics take place in the winter what about it?? That's my business that I am now involving you in link to full fic below :)

dividers by me

"They've just closed campus."

Her head pops up from behind her laptop, staring at Aemond in wide eyed disbelief. Already, there is a sympathetic wince on his face, the kind that is only ever present when he knows she is about to get upset, but even then she refuses to believe him.

"Closed? What do you mean closed?"

"It says they had to on account of the weather."

"No, they haven't. Let me see."

He spins his laptop screen to face her, forcing her to push her own down in order to see properly. His email has been left open on the page and her eyes rove over the message she had so desperately hoped he had made up. There before her in big bold letters are the words URGENT- CAMPUS CLOSED followed by a brief explanation blaming a snow storm and apologizing for any inconveniences the decision may have caused.

She lets out a groan, leaning back in the library's old chair, a pleading look on her face as if Aemond is the one responsible for making such decisions. He may as well be, with his family being such heavy contributors to Oldtown University's alumni fund, his last name plastered across the front of one of the many building on campus. She has half the mind to ask him to go speak to whichever family member is on the chair committee to convince them to reverse the decision and allow them to go back to finishing their final papers, though somehow she doubts that would be likely.

"The storm wasn't supposed to start until tomorrow. It can't already be that bad, can it?"

He reaches over toward the blinds they have long since closed, both of them having agreed that the glare from the sun was too distracting hours ago, only to be met with the sight of a now white campus, the snow blanketing near everything in sight. It's evident now why they would have shut down campus - it must have been snowing for hours- but she still feels something close to dread work its way up her spine.

She sucks in a heavy breath, turning to face Aemond once more. "Do you think they would have shut down the buses too?"

She knows it's a lost cause even as she asks it. The university is located away from the port, standing alone at the top of one of the mountains. It's a steep drive even in idle conditions and she knows that with the snow on the roads, the chances of her being able to commute back to her apartment are slim to none.

Just as she suspects, he simply looks at her, face contorted in a way that clearly implies that she already knows the answer. She bites out a curse, half slamming her laptop down before dropping her face into her hands.

The last thing she wants to do is spend the night on campus. She doubts that they were the only two caught unaware and trying to find a place to camp out for the night is going to be hell. Not for him, of course. Aemond's family connections came with seemingly endless perks and he had been set up with a beautiful flat on campus, less than a five minute walk from the library. He has lived there ever since she has known him and she had been there more times than she could count. Since first befriending him during orientation week in their first year, she had spent countless nights eating take out and studying for finals there. With their joint history major, they had taken nearly every class together, making last night studying near second nature at this point, so close to finishing their degrees.

There's a faint burn of envy in her gut at the thought of his flat- warm, isolated, cozy- but it's quickly snuffed out by her nervousness, fretting over where exactly she is meant to camp out tonight. She doubts she will actually sleep, not while she’s alone on campus, but she still wants to be at least somewhat comfortable. A padded chair would be ideal, though she knows they will be difficult to come by if she doesn’t act quickly.

Shoving her laptop back into her bag, she begins collecting the handful of papers she had sprawled out across the tabletop. "I guess I should go and try to find somewhere to sleep. It's going to be a blood bath trying to find something with decent cushioning."

He scoffs. "You're not going to be fighting any blood baths. Just spend the night at mine."

Read the rest here