#Why must my brain torture me ;-;

[emperor-kaiser]

Hey

I’m in the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror after I had finished gotten ready for the day when this big guy, hairy and chubby, walks up behind me and lifts me but the waist. I don’t even know this guy! But he holds me in his arms so securely that I don’t even complain. It’s somewhat comforting. I hadn’t even noticed that he’d taken off my pants and underwear with how mesmerized I was by his presence. Suddenly, he’s shoving his hard cock inside of me so rough that I can’t help but let out a surprised groan. He’s slamming his cock inside of boy pussy at such a relentless pace that tears start forming from the discomfort but pleasure that the man is making me feel. My vision clears for a moment but I don’t even try to make out this stranger’s face. What catches my attention first is the bulge that protrudes from my lower abdomen. I moan at the feeling of the stranger’s cock fucking my boy pussy, head leaned back in pleasure. The man is grunting as he continues to fuck me before he catches my lips in his. I have nowhere to hold onto but my legs wrap around the man’s legs from behind while my hands tug and run through the stranger’s hair. I’m in utter and complete bliss.

THEN I FUCKING WAKE UP

[midnightmah07]

I am suddenly hit with leobelle thoughts

[feralbeeast]

Every single day I'm proven exactly why I shouldn't talk to people anymore.

I know i should just give up but fuck man.

I hate bpd.

[ghost-kitty-cat]

Casey Headcanons! (Oh boy... dear brain of mine, please no sad Headcanons for the flower boy... please...)

First Headcanon, I don't know why but I totally imagine Casey was the kind of kid who grew up on Disney movies (I imagine his favorite was possibly Bambi and you would think that because he grew up with Disney movies that the movies wouldn't make him cry but nope!.. Bambi totally still makes him cry…)

Second Headcanon, (slightly a funny ironic one.. but..) despite being a huge plant lover, I totally imagine that Casey actually has a pollen allergy (or something)... so he has to be careful.... XD

Third Headcanon, (Don't know why my brain thought of this but I really like it soo...) I totally imagine Casey grew up in the country though he never developed a accent or anything... he possibly had to move away from the country when he was older because of school (or something) but despite that he still always had a strong love for nature…

Fourth Headcanon, soo... I totally picture Casey being the type of kid who loved biology class... (even though that probably caused a small bit of bullying for him...)

Fifth Headcanon, (soo... remember my little cyril Headcanon where he had that imaginary bubble/shield?... well...) I totally imagine Casey having something similar... (again we don't know why he has it, he just does...) Lauren and Honey are allowed through the bubble/shield but others aren't... (unlike Cyril, Casey is definitely working on shattering the imaginary bubble/shield with some help from Honey... its just baby steps...)

Sixth Headcanon, (another slightly funny one also slightly a Lauren Headcanon...) but in the pumpkin patch video (if I'm remembering this correctly...) it was mentioned that Lauren had gotten her and Casey kicked out of the pumpkin patch once... and I totally imagine that wasn't the only time that Lauren got them kicked out of places... (I like to imagine there's a few restaurants and possibly a few other shops that Lauren has gotten her and Casey kicked out of...)

Seventh Headcanon, Casey definitely gives me the vibes of a person who loves cats but he never got one because he wouldn't want any plants to get knocked over... (because cats are mischievous things...)

Eighth Headcanon, (slightly based off when Casey first came up with Honey's nickname.... but...) I totally imagine there's been times where Casey has tried once more to called Honey something like "Baby", "Babe" and etc but he always get too embarrassed by it... (which both Lauren and Honey find slightly funny...)

Ninth Headcanon, (another slightly funny one...) because I've always pictured Casey with longer hair, I totally imagine there were a few times that people thought he was a girl and he was too nervous/shy to say anything...

Tenth Headcanon, because of how he's used to taking care of plants, I imagine when it comes to humans (for example, Honey) and he tends to accidentally treat them like they're fragile and going to break at any moment... I imagine he tends to get super concerned whenever Honey trips or cuts themselves on accidental... and Honey has to constantly reassure him that they're ok... (oh great! Thanks a lot brain!... sure it wasn't really a sad Headcanon but you still made me cry! ;-;)

[birdy-bird27]

I think I need to go to sleep soon my brain is once again is being haunted by the sad thoughts

[giantkillerjack]

Happy to report I'm no longer responding to the religious people on my posts! Apologies to anyone who may have taken the psychic damage of seeing that unexpectedly!

It had been a while since I had purposely kicked a metaphorical wasp nest so I guess I was overdue. I am simply a sexy fool. 🙄 I do it a lot less nowadays tho, which is good!

I did genuinely set out at first to get information about how Catholics reconcile certain paradoxes within their faith, and then I was like oh right oh no I just remembered why I stopped doing this

On the upside I DID actually learn a lot; even if part of what I learned was don't tag Catholic tumblr in your posts about Catholicism, Jack. (Listen. I'm a work in progress! 😅)

And now I am very dedicated to putting a priest in my graphic novel who fucks a demon. Which I was going to draw anyway, so I might as well make it work with the story. For art. And penises.

Anyway, I hear the song "Godsend" by Trebuchet and I go a little bit insane in a good way. It's like if Supernatural was good and also a song. I'd really like to capture that energy in my work. There's also this song called "the queer gospel" that I love very much, which is about the inherent holiness of queerness and queer community regardless of if there's a god. (I actually made a burlesque routine for that song once, and more than one person said it made them cry happy tears! Which is a hell of a point of pride for me! AND a hell of a point of Pride!)

*okay if someone sends me an anonymous message that makes me laugh out loud and not feel rancid, then I will answer it if it brings me joy and I have a funny response. I will tag it accordingly and then block that person as soon as they stop being funny. But I'm good on debate and philosophy now. I got my answer. I had forgotten what those answers looked like. But I am grateful for (and moderately horrified by) the reminder. Please see the tags for an explanation of my new favorite phrase involving a man, heliocentrism, and one very hot piece of wood~

[anaalnathrakhs]

images i can only ever hope to describe haunting my mind!!

[withered-tears]

Jesus fuck that was the CRUELEST iteration of The Dream I've had in fuckin years

[suguann]

Ex-husband!Gojo who doesn’t understand that the parents (mostly the moms who try to hide behind their giant sunglasses) at Mio’s soccer games talk, and he chooses today to pull you into his lap. Several sideways glances cast your way at how cozy you both must look as you watch your four-year-old daughter run in the wrong direction across the field because she got distracted by a butterfly.

He doesn’t hear what they talk about—aren’t they divorced? I’ve never seen anyone divorced act like that—or (worse) when they try to be subtle about their probing into Satoru’s dating life while you stand there with a stilted smile plastered onto your face. 

(More than likely, he’s listened to every word and doesn’t give it the same amount of thought or care as you do.)

“Gojo,” you hiss, trying to move off his lap to no avail. “I have my own chair.”

“Can you still call me that if it’s your name too?”

A huff. “Go bother somebody else—”

“Shh,” he tells you, tugging you further against his chest. “You’re missing the game. Mio’s finally found her way back onto the field again.”

“But everyone’s staring at us.” You catch the eye of a mother tearing into a pack of fruit snacks.

“So? Let them stare.”

Everyone starts cheering, and you both watch Mio chase the ball down the field, her little body ducking between the taller kids. 

“That’s my girl!” Gojo shouts over the other parents.    

And then Mio kicks the ball into— 

The wrong goal.

“Maybe we should have let her join t-ball,” you whisper, though you both clap as your daughter starts doing not-quite cartwheels in the middle of the field.

Ex-husband!Gojo who still does work around the house every Friday, and to your dismay, shirtless now that the weather is warmer.

The plate in your hands has a few scuffs, half of a cartoon character’s face scrubbed off to oblivion that Mio will have something to say about later. Doing everything to stop from staring out into the yard where he’s mowing the lawn because the window is right there, above the sink, to tempt you.

It’s difficult when his chest glistens with sweat from the early-summer heat and how those stupid gray cotton shorts (that you know he picked out with the sole purpose of torturing you) sit dangerously low on his hips— 

He looks towards the kitchen window, a crooked smile stretching across his lips. The blood rushing to your brain, that must be what makes you give a sudsy wave and cause heat to creep into your middle.

Ex-husband!Gojo who strolls into your room while you’re putting away laundry one afternoon, and unsurprisingly shirtless as he crowds you against the dresser. Front to back. His mouth at your ear.

That steady resolve you pride yourself in crumbles at your feet, and you swallow the tiny, helpless sound working its way up your throat. A slippery thing that slips out. “Satoru…”

“You know, these little shorts were always my favorite,” he tells you, his fingers playing with the elastic waistband.

“Were they?”

“Don’t you remember? Couldn’t get them out of the way fast enough.”

Your mouth is dry, something playing in a loop in the back of your brain. Early morning, breakfast cooling on the stove, crumbs stuck to your cheek, these shorts dangling off the leg propped up on the counter—

“Where’s Mio?”

A kiss to your nape, a knowing smile. “Taking a nap.”

Ex-husband!Gojo who works your shorts and underwear off your legs before pulling you to the edge of the bed. 

“Satoru, we—we can’t keep doing this—”

Your words trail off into a moan when he slaps your clit with the leaky tip of his cock, and wet sounds echo in the room.

“Yeah? Go on, baby,” he tells you, slowly splitting you open, stuffing you full, two puzzle pieces slotting perfectly into place like it should be (how it’s always been). “Tell me some more why we can’t keep doing this.” 

You can’t, not with how he’s filling you up in the way only he knows how. Not when he hooks two thick fingers into your mouth because you’re getting too loud, pinning you against the bed with your cheek buried into your pillow, every sound choking into nothing.

You wriggle underneath him, fingers clawing at the comforter and your back arching.

“Christ, look at you,” he growls, leaning over you, teeth bared. “Fucking look at you. You needed this, didn’t you?”

Ex-husband!Gojo who presses what leaks out back inside you with his thumb after he pulls out, wet and sticky circles between your legs until you fall apart again with a soft cry. His thumb is there again, at your entrance, pushing and stopping like a plug, muttering something under his breath that sounds like, “Can’t waste it.” 

And quieter, “Maybe it’ll take.”

(Who knows?

Maybe it will. Worse things have happened.)

Ex-husband!Gojo who stays for dinner for the fourth time that week, and none of the reasons have been because Mio asked if he could. It’s more about the fact that you’ve enjoyed how whole your family feels again, that you can pretend for a moment this is what you do every night.

(How it was probably always going to come back to this.) 

That your wedding ring doesn’t sit in the back of your sock drawer, and his isn’t tucked away in his wallet. That you don’t feel guilty when you think about saying I love you or wishing he’d stay longer—

“Daddy, you gonna lose,” Mio tells Satoru as Mario Kart appears on the screen.

“We’ll see,” he laughs, tugging on one of her pigtails until she’s giggling and swatting his hand away.

You lean back against the couch, watching them with a small smile you share with Satoru over your daughter’s head.

[merrinla]

Portrait spamming

Recent discovery. If you click on the portraits of the characters like crazy, they will react to it. And the developers had a lot of fun coding these reactions xD

Tav / Dark Urge

normal - I'm awake! Mostly. - I'm starting to get a headache. - Must be the tadpole. - Quit knocking around in there! - A thousand needlepricks in my rotten skull.

combat -Ahhhhhhhh! Okay, I feel better. - I have an itch in the worst place. - Is being a mind flayer so bad? - Just waiting to venture forth here. - I'm maiming as fast as I can!

stealth - What's that ticking? - Is it me? Am I ticking? - Bomb in my head about to go off. Great. - Ah, well. I had a good run.

Astarion

normal - Why do beautiful people taste better? It hardly seems fair on the ugly - they have such wonderful personalities. - Ugh. Strahd wouldn't put up with this shit. - More like Drizzt Don't'Urden - no. No that's not funny. - Villains! Dissemble no more, I admit the deed! Tear up the floor - here, here! It is the beating of his hideous hea- oh, no, that's his brain. Where did I leave that heart?

combat: - I'm trying to focus on murder. - *Humming.* - I shot a svirfneblin in Menzoberranzan just to watch him die. - I should've been a drow. They have such stylish armour.

stealth - Shhh. Just think sneaky thoughts. - Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP. - Be very, very quiet - I'm hunting idiots. - I've got a brand new torture chamber, so come and play with me.

Karlach

normal - NOTE TO ACTOR/DIRECTOR: Blow a raspberry at the player. - Don't. Poke. The Karlach. - Who am I? - My eye!

combat - Eyes on the prize - we need to win this! - Not every soldier should've made it out of training. - Eyes on victory, tummy on dinner. - I ought to just burn this whole thing down.

stealth - My back can't take much more of this. - Not now, I'm being a sneak! - I'm getting too old for this nonsense. - I'm not built to crouch.

Gale

normal - I hope Halaster takes good care of Tara while I'm away. - Sembian wine; Cormyrian boar; Waterdhavian conversation. It's the little things you miss while on the road. - Oh, what a tangled Weave we web! - All the world's my stage and you're just a player in it.

combat - Just go for the Magic Missile and fire away. Never fails. - Don't make me go all Edwin Odesseiron on you. - Get. Out. Of. My. Head. - I really wish I could cast a Hold spell on you.

stealth - You made me hide, don't make me come seek you. - Gods, it's like trying to sleep with a mosquito in the room. - A little privacy please. - Stop it - that tickles.

Wyll

normal - Could do for a brew. - Where there's a 'Wyll', there's a 'y'. - Ever get the sense that someone's watching? - So two halflings walk under a bar...

combat - Can't hear myself think! - Wear your scars proudly. - As my father once told me: 'Can we get on with it?' - I find moderation is key.

stealth - Bad time for an itch. - Could do for a brew. - So two halflings walk under a bar... - Shush. No, really. Shush.

Lae'zel

normal - Must everyone be so exhausting? - Weapons high. Standards higher. - Is perfection too much to ask? - Pride is a virtue.

combat - I will know my queen! - There is no right or wrong, only truth. - What is the point, if not victory? - You are right to fear me.

stealth - Hush already. - There is no wisdom in madness. - Is perfection too much to ask? - There is but one way. Vlaakith.

Shadowheart

all modes - I wonder how I'll feel when I remember everything. - Strange. I've had more freedom this past while than my whole life... - Have to keep focused. Can't afford to get attached - to anyone. - If I succeed, maybe I'll be allowed a pet... ugh, stop being silly.

Halsin / his voice is currently bugged :(

normal - What I would not give for a chunk of fresh honeycomb... - Such attention... I never realised I was so popular. - Are you feeling lonely, perhaps? - Unwise, perhaps, to poke a bear this much...

сombat - Battle is afoot - you can poke me once we are safe. - Perhaps try attacking the enemy? - Admirable stamina, yet terrible priorities. - You are insistent, are you not?

stealth - Most consider it unwise to poke a bear. - My, you are eager, are you not? - Please. I am trying to be stealthy. - Calm yourself. There is plenty of me to go around.

Jaheira

normal - Oh, calm down. I'm happy to see you too. - I would poke you back, but I fear that's what you want. - My, such strong wrists. - Well you certainly have the 'omnipresent' part down, don't you? - Please go poke the ranger instead.

combat - You have my attention - now do something with it. - What? What do you want!? - Do you know, I begin to wish they had never brought me back. - Yes, yes, have your fun. It isn't you they're trying to kill.

stealth - Dry those sweaty palms and let us try this again, shall we? - Argh, my knees! Oh. It was a twig. - Would that I could hide from you, too. - Careful, or I will take your toy away from you.

Minsc

normal - ARGH! My EYE, Boo! They went for my EYE! - Know that if you poke Boo, no higher dimension will keep you safe! - Heehee. Heeheeheehee. - Well, Boo? How do you want to do this?

сombat - Are you perchance a squeaky wheel in need of a kick? - I am armed! Armoured! And entirely sick of your foolishness. - I begin to grow annoyed. It is well for you that Boo does not let me learn the bad words! - Ignore them, Boo. Let them gaze deep into their own abyss, and wonder just what it is they are trying to achieve.

stealth - A little to the left? But not so hard you make me giggle. - Boo...? Are you dancing down there, or...? - Hush! I am surprising Boo for his birthday! He is... uh... eh... how old do hamsters get...? - I am the night. A pity, then, that it is so bright out.

Minthara

all modes - You had my attention, now you have my fury. - Phlar Lolth ssinssrickla. - Your suffering will be spectacular. - Stop, or die.

[thegnomelord]

Hello there! I'm a new anon, kinda scared to ask and spill all of my weird ass fantasies that I can come up with, but I somehow found the courage to do so.

After reading through the soft sex fic with Makarov (and omfg I am going CRAZY over it) I just randomly came up with an idea involving that.

So hear me out (aka let me just be delusional)...

You, a member of 141, currently stand in the interrogation room, your back facing the door as you stared down at the one and only Vladimir Makarov himself. It was honestly a miracle that you had been able to capture him, and you still had no idea how the hell the rest of your team had managed it.

You were currently their last hope at getting some sort of information out of him, and by now the others knew very well by now how talented you were at getting it out of prisoners (albeit they didn't quite know what your methods were), hence why you were here in this room.

At this point you might as well have tried everything, these including the good old torture methods (which you noticed he seemed to quote like for some reason, perhaps he was a masochist, you weren’t completely sure), intimidation, asking politely (which wouldn't you know, didn't work), and practically everything you could think of.

As you racked your brain for any sort of other ideas, you could hear some sort of taunt from the other, and that must have set you off or something along those lines as you found yourself suddenly pinning the bastard down on the desk (you must have unlocked his handcuffs at one point during it, or perhaps he had already managed to unlock them beforehand, you weren't paying attention).

You wanted to think that the other was surprised, even just a little bit, but he wasn't, having probably expected you to have a small outburst.

Maybe you would have to resort to that. That one method that none of the others had seen in action, but one that if they did, you'd definitely get in a lot of trouble from. At least it always seemed to work.

So that's how you found yourself slowly fucking the other, not at all causing any pain, and although you'd expect the cold metal table would still inflicted just a little, you had taken the precaution to place something soft under the other to ensure that he couldn't get what he wanted. This was torture, even if in the eyes of others (not that they'd ever get to see this sight) it'd be much better, but no, it wasn't. You were well aware that the other wished for it to be harsh, having picked up on it earlier (the sick bastard), so you did the complete opposite. You weren't exactly used to it, but it was a last ditch effort.

So yeah thanks for reading whatever the hell that was :)

Idk how to continue it.

- ⨂ (I swear if that symbol has already been taken)

No no dude this is so good! SOrry it took me a lil while to respond lol, but you got my brain worms going brrrrrr so I'm just continuing it :Dd.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, Vladimir Makarov x male reader, short ficlet

You are so getting discharged for this.

"Is this what you wanted?" You ask under your breath, voice husky and raw. You grip his hip gently, your other hand keeping his tied wrists pinned to the scratchy blanket covering the cold table. "All that snark, all those insults," You slowly grind your hips, cock lazily scrapping against his walls and making him groan. "Is this what you wanted?"

It's not like he can talk with his tie gagging him. It's the softest material you had on hand, and it works to ensure Makarov doesn't bite you or himself. You're smart, despite him thinking on the contrary, more than the gruff animals that had captured him. No, you're clever. Clever enough to realize bloodshed and pain are not the stones that pave Makarov's road to hell.

Makarov trembles beneath you, teeth clenching on the fabric, desperate to get his lip between his teeth so he could bite it raw. He can't. Hell he can barely stifle the groans and moans, chest heaving to swallow the sound before it can stumble past his open mouth when your head grinds down on his prostate. Drool runs down his chin, precum leaking on his belly where his cock is trapped between your belies.

He wants to curse you out, wants to get his hands around your throat and squeeze until you choke on your own blood. But he only manages a small grunt, tear blurred eyes glaring up at you. His legs tighten around your waist, heels digging into your back.

A lick of pain races up your spine, but you don't fall for it, languidly rolling your hips. You'd taken your time to stretch him out with what you had, prepping him thoroughly even when he'd trashed and tried to kick you. You're glad you did, now Makarov can't ignore the stretch of his hole, your massive cock moulding his insides to your shape. It's just raw unadulterated feeling, please assaulting his mind whenever you bottom out and your cock bulges his stomach without any pain; so sweet it's sickening to him.

He'd kick himself at how the disgustingly sweet pleasure has his cock twitching, body winding tight as he gets closer and closer to orgasm. But his mind is starting to go numb, the hate he feels shrouded by the nearing edge of bliss. He nearly seizes off the table when you wrap your calloused hand around the base of his cock, squeezing until he's just at the cusp of pain.

"Nu-uh." You growl and stop, cock twitching deep inside him. Leaning down to press gentle kisses across his throat that burn him like acid. "You're not getting off easy." You growl, kissing the corner of his lip. "Not until you give me what I need." You look at him expectantly.

He bares his teeth, swinging his head to try and headbutt you, but you pull your head just at the right time.

"Have it your way." Your grip relaxes, starting to jerk him off at the same pace of your languidly rolling hips. His head rolls back, his best attempt at a hateful sound escaping him when his head rests on the soft blanket. He hates it, tries to struggle as best he can but it's fruitless as you just hold him down, forcing him to just take it, to just suffer this gentle torture.

You may be discharged for this. But fuck, you'll make him suffer before you are.

[lilybug-02]

Why must my brain conjure the most terrifying nightmares on gods green earth? Like bro, I really don’t think being able to feel torture and see death in my dream is going to make me better at taxes. Wtf

[masuchu]

“𝐒𝐔𝐀 𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀, 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐔𝐒” [AL HAITHAM & KAVEH]

are you supposed to feel bad when al haitham blows your back out, but leaves kaveh with nothing but a sore, aching cock? ‧₊˚

genre. smut, rough sex, bondage (kaveh is tied to a chair), implied punishment for kaveh, al haitham is mean, orgasm denial for kaveh, ig cuckholding too ?? kaveh is being bullied

characters. al haitham & kaveh (intended as poly, but can be read as a regular threesome)

love, masu. i’ve been going feral for these two as a duo recently, they work so perfectly …. anywho !! this was written in like an hour lol, the pussy power came through

“See, Kaveh? This is what happens to good girls. You wouldn’t be in this predicament if you had just behaved to begin with.”

Al Haitham sends another violent thrust of his cock into your sore little cunt, the vibrations of the action expanding throughout your body and numbing your brain so perfectly. His smooth palm pushes at the small of your back in a gentle, yet warning request for you to arch for him. You do— you’re his good girl after all— but the position allows for his cock to penetrate you further and slam into places you didn’t even know existed.

Your eyes wander up to the sobbing blonde less than a metre in front of you. His eyes, red-rimmed from crying, skin chafed from pulling at the rope binding him to the wooden chair at the end of the bed, hair tussled from sweating. But above all else, your gaze lingers on his throbbing cock. It looks painful, as though any longer watching you get you get fucked into insanity would cause him to explode. You aren’t sure about the intricacies, but Al Haitham had implemented some form of elemental binding along his cock, a prevention from cumming. Even if his orgasm came only at the sight of you, he had been bad, and that was that.

Al Haitham must have noticed your gaze flickering above, because he suddenly includes the tortured man into conversation once more.

“When you’re a brat, you don’t get cock. It’s—ngh, simple,” Al Haitham tauntingly taps your cheek with two soiled fingers, pinching meanly when you don’t respond, “Tell him, angel. C’mon, are you really that fucked out?”

“W—when you’re—Agh!”

Oh, he certainly did not make it easier for you. As you begin your sentence, he pulls his length out of you so only the tip remains, taking a moment to admire your red-raw pussy, before maliciously burying himself into your sopping entrance once more.

“When you’re bad—Ngh, you don’ get, mnh, fucked!”

Kaveh looks shattered at your betrayal, believing that you out of both of his partners would take pity on him. He sniffles brokenly, and whimpers through your panties that were shoved into his mouth as a makeshift gag. The sight of his devastation snaps your good girl resolve.

“Kaveh, baby— M’ sorry! Didn’t mean it, please forgive me—Agh!”

A blood-curdling thrust halts your misbehaviour. Al Haitham tuts bitterly, before manhandling your body onto your front. His hand is heavy on the back of your head, even more so as he pushes your face into the sheets. The pace of his thrusts increase tenfold, obscene squelching noises cascading throughout the four walls of the bedroom.

Even with the muffling of the bed bellow you, your lewd moans and whimpers fill the greedy ears of both the man on top of you, and the one being tortured in front of you. Though unable to see him, you can hear his whimpers. Each pornographic slap of skin on skin morphs into unadulterated pleasure that corses through your body like an untameable tide.

“Why are you being kind to him? Did he not fuck you without my permission? Your beautiful face is going to stay in these sheets until you learn wrong from right. For your sake, I do hope you are a fast learner.”

2024 © masuchu , do not repost, reword, plagiarise, take inspiration, translate or share my work anywhere!

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。PLAN B — ALHAITHAM.

alhaitham has long resigned to the reality that as long as he’s dating you, there can never be an argument he can fully win with logic alone. all his life, his brain has carried him above men in the most impressive of ways, granted him effortless victories that he’s strategized in just a few quick seconds—except no matter how impressive, his brain is no match for your stubbornness.

one time, he even overhears the general mahamatra mumble, it seems like he’s met his match. to this day, the moment haunts him in his sleep sometimes.

but he figures cyno is right (though no one should ever tell him this) because otherwise, alhaitham, the akademiya’s scribe and current acting grand sage, would never be buying flowers and standing before you to apologize for something he didn’t even do.

well, he did—it’s just that he did in a dream, not reality.

“oh, has the cheater come back for my hand again?” you spit, crossing your arms and looking to the side with a hmph.

the universe must be having a field day with this show, he thinks, the show of alhaitham’s life taking complicated turns in places they simply do not have to. woefully, he’s sure kaveh is enjoying this, at least. otherwise the architect wouldn’t be sitting on the opposite couch and watching in pure glee.

“technically, i didn’t cheat,” alhaitham argues, “that was the alhaitham of your conjured imagination. the real alhaitham was peacefully sleeping until he was rudely pushed off of the mattress despite having work in a few hours—”

“i don’t speak to cheaters,” you huff.

alhaitham figures it’s now time to put plan b into action. plan b is as follows: to buy your favorite type of flowers and present them to you, all while dinner from your favorite restaurant sits on the table waiting. as soon as your eyes light up at the sight of the flowers, he’ll be able to skillfully sneak his way beside you on the couch, pull you close with one arm, and before you realize what he’s done, he’ll lead you to the dining table with your usual order waiting for you.

it’s a fool proof plan, he thinks—all plans of his have always had a ninety nine percent success rate, and this is no different. the only reason there’s not a one hundred percent success rate is solely and entirely due to the fact that he cannot plan for unforeseeable circumstances that occur last minute. these circumstances are beyond his control, but the small statistical chance of them occurring puts his mind at ease that in a few short minutes, all will be back to normal.

“these are for you,” he says, holding out the bouquet he bought—which was rather expensive, might he add.

and then, because the universe hates him, that one percent chance of an unforeseeable circumstance presents itself at the most inopportune of times.

“why is this one dead?” you raise a brow, pointing to the flower in the corner he failed to notice.

wonderful, he thinks. kaveh snorts, and alhaitham simply let’s his shoulders sag.

“well,” he starts, “i didn’t notice that one. forgive me—”

“just like you didn’t notice my presence while you cheated on me, huh? yeah, for the akademiya’s scribe, you sure do miss a lot,” you glare daggers at him.

“but i didn’t—”

“it’s your fault i dreamt that in the first place,” you hiss, “who’s plan allowed the people of sumeru to dream again?”

“yes,” kaveh adds from the corner, “do tell, alhaitham. who’s brilliant plan has lead to this situation?”

“certainly not yours,” alhaitham shoots back, crossing his arms as he raises a brow at the insufferable blonde, “if it were up to you to make the plans, we’d have quit before we even start.”

“don’t be rude to kaveh,” you scold, “kaveh would never cheat on me.”

“of course i wouldn’t,” kaveh agrees.

alhaitham pinches himself in hopes this is all his dream and he can wake up from this torturous nightmare.

“kaveh is behind on rent and acutely single. the only place kaveh could cheat on you is in his own dreams,” alhaitham argues, which earns an offended sound of indignation from his roommate.

“if this is your way of apologizing, it sucks,” you sulk, refusing to meet his eyes.

with a heavy sigh, alhaitham sets down the flowers and hesitantly—he does not wish to be shoved to the floor a second time in one day—settles beside you on the couch.

“i would never be unfaithful to you. i love you,” he says simply, but his voice is delicate, serious, like he means it. “i love you because you brighten each day, and make them far more tolerable by your side—even despite your occasional illogical fits of rage. and i will continue to love you even when i am the target of them.”

“seriously?” kaveh gapes in disbelief, “that’s your apology? are you trying to be broken up with—”

“really?” you ask, hopeful.

“of course,” alhaitham nods, and if the corner of his eyes shoot kaveh a smug look…well, only kaveh sees it.

“you’ve never cheated on me?” you narrow your eyes, searching for confirmation in his.

he grabs your hands, nodding. “never,” he assures.

“okay,” you nod, “as long as you’ve learned your lesson, i can look past the mistakes of the alhaitham of my dreams.”

“the alhaitham of your reality is so graciously thankful,” he says sarcastically.

you giggle. he smiles softly. kaveh rolls his eyes and walks to his room.

“well, alhaitham of my reality,” you hum, moving to cup his cheeks and lean in until your lips are just barely touching his, “i love you too. even despite how you infuriate me—including in my dreams.”

“it’s an unfortunate quality all potential versions of alhaitham come with,” he chuckles, and then his lips are pressed to yours firmly.

and you know, from this kiss alone, from the way he holds you like you’re the first bloom of spring after a harsh winter, that you’re the only one he has room for in his heart.

plan b had a few unexpected complications, but as always, alhaitham adds another successful attempt to his list.

this reader is so me-coded pls look away 😭

[popquizhot-shot]

STOP I LOVE YOUR PLATONIC!MIGUEL FICS <333

would you be okay with writing smth where teen!reader makes him something?? like maybe reader loves making things out of paper (like paper flowers, butterflies, tiny stars, etc.) so they decided fo make smth for miguel?

and maybe reader is nervous he won't like it?? :(

I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS<333

Origami and Suit Malfunctions- Miguel O' Hara x teen!spider!reader

See, the thing with being a part time employee of the spider society meant that you had a lot of free time compared to other spiders. Normally anyone would go back to their own universe, but yours was sadly destroyed.

Sad. Anyways, it meant that you had a lot of free time. Free time to annoy Miguel, to conspire with Lyla, to practice your techniques..... and to hone your previously horrendous origami skills.

Like, no joke, you had absolutely no talent when it come to folding paper into intricate shapes. But hey, bored and borderline insanity works wonders for the brain.

So, slowly but surely, you taught yourself to make paper stars and flowers and boats. But you wanted to make something for Miguel. Why?

Who knows? Like I said, boredom does things to the brain.

Miguel wasn't exactly an open book and he'd probably die of a heart attack if you gave him flowers. You didn't have time to make hundreds of little paper stars so that was ruled out-

"What're you thinking about?" the older man's raspy voice reaches your ears.

"How to get your suit to malfunction." you quip back.

"Why must you torture me so?" he replies in a monotone voice as he sits on his seat, opposite you.

"I'm your employee, it's my job."

"Your job is to be a pain in the ass?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Precisely." you stick your tongue out and he rolls his eyes.

After a few seconds, you clear your throat, "Hey, uh, what's your favorite sport?

He's silent for a while and you can see his eyes gloss over, his reply is shaky, "Soccer."

You nod with a thumbs up, "Thank you Bossman Bosserson."

"You call me that again, I'll throw Lyla at you." he threatens as you go to leave the office.

"Jokes on you, I'd love that!" you shout back you walk out.

-----

Finally, he thinks, Finally this mission is over. Now he can go have a hot shower and a good meal and some of the amazing chai you make and he'll be in a somewhat good mood.

When he enters his office, he stunned at the silence.

Normally he can hear the sound of your feet tapping against the floor or your humming and the the fact that he can hear nothing is unnerving.

"Kid?" he calls out, Answer me.

He swings to the top of the platform, and you're not where you normally are. You're not sitting there, zoned out with your foot tapping incessantly like a little child. You're not where you're supposed to be.

"Miguel, your heart is racing, you okay?" Lyla asks him.

"Where's my kid?" he asks her.

"Oh baby Mig's hanging out with Hobie!" she says cheerfully.

"What?" he all but growls.

"Hey! Chill! She's fine! In fact, " the AI smirks and nods towards his desk, "She left something for you."

He turns and his heart skips a beat.

There's a little paper soccer ball on his desk.

It's tiny in his palm, but it has your initials and a post-it stuck on top.

"You said you liked soccer, so this is for you :D. I would never try to screw with your suit, don't worry ;)"

The ink smudges as a tear drops onto where you've signed the post it.

"God, this spider, I swear." he grumbles and wipes his eyes.

"This spider...what?" he jumps and turns at the sound of your voice. You're standing behind him with your hands behind your back and a sheepish smile on your face.

"This spider is my kid." he pats your cheek softly, "Thank you, this means a lot."

You nod with a smile, "You're welcome."

He narrows his eyes at you, "What have you been up to? Why are you being so nice?"

You slowly back away, "Pfft, what are you talking about? I've done nothing wrong"

A hologram pops up and Miguel watches as the T-Rex bellows at Pavitr's retreating form, and his head whips to you.

"Bye! Love you!" you shriek and jump off the platform, disappearing as he tries to follow you.

With a start he realizes what you just said.

"I hate that kid." he groans and then notices that he's grinning like an idiot.

[adverbally]

Just Like a Prayer (I’ll Take You There)

Written for the @steddiesmuttyseptember prompt “pillow princess” | wc: 751 | rated: E | cw: sexual content | tags: alternate universe - gender changes, female steve harrington, female eddie munson, pillow princess eddie, cunnilingus, orgasm denial, a touch of BDSM dynamics, c’mon you can’t tell me the prompt is pillow princess and not expect me to make it sapphic | title from “Like a Prayer” by Madonna

———

It’s not that Eddie is purposely not reciprocating when Stevie goes down on her. She loves Stevie, and she would be thrilled to make her feel even a fraction as good as she makes Eddie feel. It’s just that, when Stevie wants to spread her out on the sheets and dig in like Eddie is her last meal, why would she protest?

“Oh, Jesus,” she gasps on a shuddering breath, lacing her fingers in Stevie’s beautiful hair for leverage as she grinds her hips up into her mouth.

Stevie’s answering moan feels like it vibrates through Eddie’s whole lower half. It almost surprises her when she feels the sting of Stevie’s fingernails digging into her thighs, holding her securely in place as Stevie’s tongue delves inside her as far as it can go.

The sound that comes out of her isn’t a shriek, exactly, but it’s loud and high-pitched enough that Eddie could understand the confusion if she were capable of forming any thoughts whatsoever right now. Her brain has been wrung out like a wet cloth until all she can think about is Stevie.

The weight of her on the bed between Eddie’s legs, the security of her arms across Eddie’s hips, the heat licking up Eddie’s spine with every swipe of her tongue. And, God, when Eddie cranes her neck to see Stevie looking blissed out on her taste, eyes rolling back in her head as she dives in for more–

“Stevie, oh my god,” Eddie breathes. “So fucking good.”

Stevie’s gaze flicks upward to make eye contact with Eddie as she swirls her tongue around Eddie’s clit just the way she likes.

Stevie knows how much that affects Eddie— seeing Stevie’s molten gaze peeking out from beneath the longest natural eyelashes she’s ever seen, focusing on her with dilated pupils like she’s getting high on eating Eddie out. Stevie knows, and she’s playing a dirty trick to catch Eddie off guard and send her careening into her orgasm.

Or so Eddie thinks, until her thighs tense and her cunt starts to clench around nothing, and Stevie pulls away.

Eddie teeters there on the precipice, half-convinced she’s past the point of no return and going to come anyway. The moment stretches like Stevie is one of the glassblowers they saw at the renaissance fair last summer, and Eddie is molten glass, red hot and liquid, cooling slowly but surely in the hands of a master.

She doesn’t come.

It stuns her speechless. She can’t even breathe, like the shock has knocked the air out of her. All Eddie can do is lie there and watch as Stevie sits up on her knees and wipes her mouth with the back of her wrist.

Her stunned expression must speak volumes, because Stevie blinks at her faux-innocently and asks, “Was there something you wanted?”

Eddie’s mouth opens and closes uselessly before she indignantly settles on, “I was about to come!”

“I guess you were, huh?” Stevie says wonderingly, like it hadn’t occurred to her. “Sorry, sweetie.” She reaches out to lightly trace her nails across the sensitive skin of Eddie’s inner thighs, making her legs twitch.

She whines dramatically, throwing an arm over her face. “Who are you and what have you done with my sweet, loving girlfriend who never, ever tortures me?”

Stevie laughs. “Ever heard of delayed gratification?”

“I think that kills people.” She scowls and flings her arm to the side in protest.

“I think…” Stevie sing-songs, leaning over Eddie’s body until they’re face to face, “that if you’re a good girl and wait for me to let you come, I can make it worth your while.” Her hand drifts to Eddie’s jaw, thumb teasing over her bottom lip in a promise for more.

Eddie swallows hard but doesn’t look away from Stevie. She’s so gorgeous when she takes control that it’s almost hypnotic. Even when Stevie shifts forward so her thigh is snug against Eddie’s spit-slick pussy, Eddie keeps her eyes on Stevie’s face. She gets a devious smile as her reward.

“You don’t even have to do anything. I know you can handle that. Right, princess?”

Wordlessly, Eddie nods her agreement and tries to ignore the electric spark of shame that shoots down her spine, straight to her cunt.

Stevie pushes herself back down the bed to settle between Eddie’s legs, and Eddie fists her hands in the sheets as she steels herself for the next touch of Stevie’s tongue.

It’s going to be a long night.