#begging the one guy who has only ever loved money to give me some + make my PTSD worse in the process is not a solution

[quiltcas]

*shaking my mother by the shoulders* boundaries are good and identity theft is bad actually!

[inf3ct3dd]

streamer!ellie headcanons

warnings: yo no se

content : streamer!ellie headcanons 🔥🔥

authors note : the streets r calling and they’re telling me to write streamer ellie hcs….

- def started off as a faceless streamer. she wasn’t really comfortable on camera, and she just thought it would be way easier. you can only see her shoulders-down leaving her (deliciosu. scrumptious. yummy) arms in the cameras view.

- her twitch user is “creeperewman” cuz shes like…discreetly hiding her initials and referencing the best minecraft parody ever 😕!!!

- bought the most random shitty mic and webcam and started streaming 🔥🔥 she never got rid of either of them its part of her odd loser charm

“‘fartmaster69:it’s probably cuz your camera’ it’s probably bc of YOUR CAMERA!!! theres nothing wrong w my camera bro 😞”

“don’t listen to them…ur perfect 🤫 IM NOT TALKING TO U GUYS IM TALKING TO MY CAMERA”

- only had a few viewers the first couple times she streamed, and it was some random 10 yr old who kept spamming “yassss” in the chat and some dude who said she was shit at minecraft 😞 he was LYING

- started off doing minecraft speed runs (or trying to) and got like way good over time

- she randomly started getting more and more viewers, because people kept posting abt her and calling her fine on tiktok , making edits of her hands and her voice 😭😭 (real)

- as she got more and more viewers, she started branching out more with the games she’d play. def loves shooter games like cod and pubg, but she’d also play like indie horror games like faith (omg markiplier fans would know)

- she has a orange cat she named garfield (cuz…of course she does) and he’s always sitting on her lap during her streams or messing w her setup 💔💔

- def put stickers all over her headset and showed them off all proud on stream

- designed her own cute banners and stuff for streams 😞!!!

- def had a subreddit/disc server with her viewers where she’d let them give her game recs or make memes of her

- ppl saw her guitar in the back of her streams and BEGGED HER to play it and she had her own lil concert stream !!! she was so freaking nervous and messed up a bunch the first like minute or two but like after that she was in the ZONE

“‘ewswife: i wish i was that guitar’ oh!! you guys are so…kind!!!”

- when she INSANELY hit 1k, she did a face reveal and she hit 10k the same day 😦 the amount of edits that ppl made was actually insane. ESP ONES MAKING FUN OF DREAMS FACE REVEALLLL

- started doing much more random shit on stream after she got more famous. she LOVES cooking on stream, and she’d start reacting to random shit ppl sent her on the subreddit

- she cut her hair on stream once, and everyone in the chat kept spamming “yo bob…is fye” for like 5 minutes 😪

- “you’re at work watching me? i hope you get fired. i mean. i hope you don’t get fired 😞”

- she gets so many thirst comments and like…is terrible at responding to them

“‘ewleftbicep: you look so vulnerable today’ WHAT”

- she has her own apartment cuz of her awesome streaming money 🔥🔥🔥 soundproofed walls too cuz she’s. loud.

- one day, you were walking on campus to a class. you had your headphones on, listening to your main playlist on shuffle, when you got stopped by someone. you pulled your headphones off your ears and gave the man in front of you a confused look. you looked down to his hands, holding a tiny mic, and another dude holding a camera.

“what song are you listening to?” he held the microphone towards you, awaiting your response.

you quickly responded “uhm, last goodbye, by jeff buckley.” and stood there awkwardly, pushing a piece of hair out of your face.

the man quickly thanked you and you walked away, slightly suprised.

- after a couple hours, the video had blown up and the comments were filled with people complimenting you.

pickleluna: jeff buckley girl is so fine

minyonlala: 3rd girl is so bad

rilakkila: I NEED JEFF BUCKLEY GIRL

and unknown to you, someone else found you on their fyp.

creeperewman: guys what is the 3rd girls @. im literally BEGGING BRO PLEASEEE

- ewleftbicep: BEING DESPERATE ON MAIN IS CRAZY

- ewsgirlf: random tiktok girl stole my wife 💔

- elliewilliamsidechick: guys im literally the 3rd girl 😂😂😂

- it didn’t take long for your phone to be blown up with people sending you the video, tagging you in funny comments, and finding your instagram. you watched the video, and saw ellie was the top comment. you checked her profile, and saw how FINE she was, and immediately responded

- y/nmainn: guys 😳😳😳 what if i was the third girl 😳😳

- ellie checked her phone and saw thousands of people tagging your comment, and she wasted zero time following you on tiktok. and your instagram. its not stalking if its in your bio, right?

- you two immediately hit it off, and ellie loved the fact that you had absolutely no idea who she was. to you, she was just some hot girl. not some famous streamer you were obsessed with.

- she didn’t even realize you two went to the same school until she saw you in her astrophysics class one day, and she almost had a heart attack when you waved at her and walked over to sit next to her.

“what a coincidence.”

- she took you out on your first date to a planetarium, and not even a week after, asked you to be her girlfriend.

- she definitely teaches you how to play her favorite games. but she gets wayyyy defensive when you beat her.

“im just letting you win.”

“beginners luck.”

but shes SO COCKY when she beats you

“hey, don’t be so hard on yourself after this. not your fault im a professional!”

“aw, maybe one day you’ll be as good as me”

- definitely helps you build your own pc.

- loves watching you play things like animal crossing or stardew valley, always lays on your shoulder while you’re on the couch.

“why are you being so mean to gaston :((“

“because hes UGLY and he has an ugly house and he’s ruining my village.”

“wowww you’re bullying a little bunny man because he doesn’t fit your aesthetic 😒 so mean”

- if you like more aggressive games like cod, she loves listening to you talk shit while you play and always makes fun of people with you. (she thinks its hot when you’re mean to people)

- her chat absolutely loves you, and every time you stream together its a continuous stream of “me and who” and “when is it my turn 😪”

[spacerockfloater]

Being a female viewer and hating Criston Cole is deranged.

I have to get this off my chest. The blind hatred that Criston is receiving from women is insane and I’m going to explain why.

For context, I am talking about Show Criston, not Book Criston. Comparing two standalone versions of a story is silly.

I cannot wrap my head around the fact that so many women, who are the primary victims of utilitarian relationships, would ever come together and shit on Criston for enduring such a situation.

I’m sorry, but how many of you have been used by men? How many of you have been reduced to one night stands, situationships and placeholder wives? How many of you have been deemed “not good enough” to be an exclusive partner? I log into tiktok and I see NOTHING but stories of broken women who are just used for sex, money, care and whatnot by men, and then they are tossed away like worthless trash while said men continue their pursuit of the ideal woman. Being used by men just for sex and being denied the status of girlfriend, let alone wife, is probably one of the worst plagues women are experiencing in the western world because the MOMENT we were emancipated, men understood that they don’t owe us shit anymore and instead of treating us with respect, they decided to grab whatever they can and give nothing back. Do not tell me that there are women out there that are fine with this arrangement because the multiple “GWM while I tell you about the guy that was with me for 12 years and then married someone else” tell a different story, one of multiple women’s dignities being trampled by hungry men. My heart breaks for every woman (EVERY woman, cis, trans, EVERY woman) who has been called by a man she loves just for sex, for every woman whose man never wanted to be seen in public with her, for every woman who had to hear that her man is not ready for a relationship only to witness him getting engaged to another woman 2 weeks after. I hope you overcome this and become stronger and I am glad that we are finally supporting one another.

How can we then, the women who are helping other female victims rise up and speak out against this kind of abuse, push Criston down and tell him to suck it up and accept being Rhaenyra’s plaything? Have we no mercy? Are we so hungry for revenge against men that we’d want them to endure the same humiliation that we did, as if one fictional man’s suffering would bring us justice? Are we so jealous that Criston didn’t sit down and just take it like the rest of us, but instead spoke up and removed himself from that situation? Or are we so gullible that we accept what the screenwriters shove down our throats and unknowingly support the patriarchic view that if you’re being used by someone you should just accept it?

I can hear some of you arguing that “Oh, this is different because Rhaenyra is royalty!” as if being used and tossed by a powerful person somehow makes the situation any better? Would it be okay if a rich person wanted to constantly use you for sex while he keeps looking for a better woman to be by his side, just because he values his wealth and status more? Rhaenyra straight up sneered at the idea of a simple life with him. She straight up told him that HE is not worth as much as her crown. OUCH. Even though I can’t even begin to imagine the pain of being told you are not enough by your loved one, it was Rhaenyra’s right to choose what her priorities are, but WHY would he have to accept being her sidepiece? “These were different times”: does this make it any less devastating for the victim? And he was a victim because Rhaenyra still used Criston and misled him by constantly complaining about how she HATES her duties for YEARS and then luring him to break his oath. Do you think he would have still slept with her if he was aware that moments ago, Rhaenyra was begging on her knees to be fucked by Daemon and only turned to Criston because her first option was no longer available? Like, the man was contemplating having sex with her and resisted her for a good fucking while, so imagine how quickly he would have turned around and walked out that door if he had that information beforehand. You know why? Because he loved her. He loved her to the point that he broke his oath for her, the oath of a station he FOUGHT FOR IN A WAR. He shed blood and sweat and risked his life for the mere opportunity to gain that position. This was ALL he had, he came from NOTHING and he was still willing to toss it all away for Rhaenyra not once, but twice. It wasn’t just sex he wanted because we never see him have sex again after that. He became vulnerable and gave up everything that he was to be with Rhaenyra. He was willing to abandon his whole identity for her sake. Is this not what the ideal partner is? Ready to abandon everything for your shake? Everything he fought for, tooth and nail? Was he unreasonable in thinking that Rhaenyra was willing to do the same for him? Was he crazy to think that because he was ready to put everything he FOUGHT for aside for her shake, Rhaenyra would also put aside a duty she was handed and actively seem to hate for him too? Fuck no! After hearing her constant talk about how she hates her father, her duties, her refusal to wed other men, how she is trapped as a princess, how people have no idea how much it SUCKS being her, why would he not assume that she’d be willing to give it all up for him, as he’d do for her We never see Rhaenyra even TRY to be a ruler, just complain about it. Of course it would be a fucking shock to him hearing her say “Lol dude, I actually do kinda want this”.

Criston was actually the only person in the series that wanted Rhaenyra for her, not her money or crown. I’m not saying she had to follow him, it was her right to refuse him, but his willingness to lead a simple life with just her has got to mean something. And don’t give me that “he only wanted to redeem his honour by marrying her” crap, because first of all Criston nutted up and admitted everything to Alicent and was ready to face death without EVER blaming Rhaenyra for anything, and second of all, oh no, how dare a human being have ethical values and desire to live with dignity in society’s broad light rather than move in the shadows as the princess’s secret boytoy! Bad, bad Criston for feeling you have to atone for your sins. Maybe we as people have become so corrupt that we envy those who wish to walk a virtuous path in life. Or maybe y’all have become so fond of the unhinged unapologetic character trope because it feels “original” (even if it’s ridiculously overused nowadays) that you’ve actually forgotten what characters with good morals are. Like, picking your fave war criminal and rolling with them because you enjoy good drama, especially in a show that’s meant to provide entertainment, is one thing, but passionately stating that Criston had to submit to that humiliation is something else entirely.

Finally, let’s ditch the Criston being a misogynist bullshit because he had NO issue obeying Rhaenyra before their affair or Alicent. And he is ALWAYS true to himself and his values, because even after everything he endured, he did not use Alicent’s anger as an excuse to take revenge on Rhaenyra and harm her children. Criston never betrayed her, Rhaenyra used him and he walked away and he went towards the only person who seemed to spare him some sympathy and understand him and not condemn him for his crimes even if he hated himself, which is typical victim mentality. And don’t get me started on the Joffrey incident because y’all tore Cole to SHREDS for it. Joffrey had it fucking coming. You don’t go up to people’s faces, especially ones you don’t know, threaten them by telling them you know their secret, a secret that SHAMES them and burdens them to the point they’re ready to commit suicide, and all but directly call them a whore. What the fuck did he think was going to happen? They’d shake hands? Piss off. Let this be a lesson to anyone that doesn’t know how to keep their mouths shut and their noses out of other people’s business. Also, mocking his suicide attempt makes my stomach turn. Just take a moment to consider all the young women who just like him, reluctantly surrendered their virginities to men only to find out they were nothing but sex dolls in their eyes, all these girls whose trust led to their secret being spread and them getting ridiculed and slut shamed for it: how many girls have taken their own lives because they found living with such a burden unbearable?

For the love of everything you hold sacred, please wake up. The narrative that you can be used by someone powerful and you have to accept it because that’s the way things are is a man’s construct. Do not let them fool you.

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐅*𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑.

-ˏˋ. 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˊˎ-

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — FWB!matthew tkachuk x f!reader 𝐰𝐜 — 1.7k 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — "old habits die hard..." — or, your boyfriend won’t fuck you right, so you run to the one person who always does.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — patrons know the chokehold this toxic sin-fest has on me and probably always will... in all seriousness, this is one of my favorite things i've ever published and i am so insanely proud of it. i hope you love it as much as i do <3

(spoiler — not possible teehee)

18+ MDNI — content warnings under the cut.

𝐜𝐰 — profanity, innuendo, matthew’s filthy mouth and lack of morals, cheating (not on matty or the reader), outdated/incorrect information about having sex for the first time, borderline too much degradation, some objectification to add a little spice, unprotected sex w a cheeky creampie (what did you expect from two morally bankrupt individuals written by me, a retired whore?), matthew being a noncommittal, possessive piece of shit joking about knocking people up for funzies

────────────

“D’you think you’re so addicted to my cock because you know I don’t give a fuck what you think about me? Or care if you think I’m a Nice Guy?”

Even buried to the hilt—bare with nothing between you and far too fucking close for comfort—Matthew Tkachuk runs his mouth like he’s got nothing to lose and even less to prove. He’s insufferable, his only redeeming quality being the pulsing appendage threatening to split you in half as you buck in his lap.

With your hands braced against his hard chest for leverage, you drown out his grating voice, chasing the white-hot surges, bolts of lightning leading you to the brink of collapse with renewed vigor.

The sooner you come, the sooner he’s gone.

“All I care about, sweetheart, is fucking you good and hard. Giving it to you like the hungry, cockdrunk whore that you are.”

Debonair attitude. Sly confidence. Vulgar demeanor.

Filthy fucking mouth.

You were warned about Matthew Tkachuck. Repeatedly. Warned about him and his complete lack of a filter, about his total disregard for anyone’s feelings but his own. His aversion to commitment, to monogamy, to propriety.

All the things that repulse you about the man lounging on expensive hotel sheets beneath you—as you do all the work—lure you back to him in equal measure. He shouldn’t turn you on, but that’s exactly why he does. He’s all wrong, wrong, wrong.

Which makes him just right.

“I bet if your fiancé walked in right now, you’d just keep riding me. You wouldn’t even notice, would you? After all, you haven’t cum yet. And that’s all you care about, right? Using my cock to get your rocks off because Billy Boyfriend’s too scared to give you what you really need. Lucky for you, I’m not a fuckin’ pussy. I don’t treat you like a fragile doll because I know you’ll take anything I give you—and beg for more. I treat you like what you are, not some chaste little princess.”

You’ve been with Bill for nearly a decade, engaged for more than a year. It’ll be a spring wedding, probably. If the venue pans out, and the caterer finally calls you back with a final quote.

Perfect on paper.

He doesn’t pay attention to you the way he used to. Just throws money at the problem until he can bury himself in work again, undisturbed by you or nagging obligation.

Flowers for being three hours late, a necklace for missing dinner entirely. A trip overseas when he had to go into the office on your anniversary.

But he’s nice, so fucking nice it hurts, and more loyal than the Golden Retriever he wants to adopt after the honeymoon. After you’re settled into a custom-build nestled comfortably in the suburbs and far away from the city. White picket fence, manicured lawn, barely-there speed limits.

It's all so nauseatingly idyllic. So perfectly attuned with what you thought you wanted, what you spent your childhood coveting.

All your single friends are jealous; your committed friends are resentful. Your family loves him, and even though you’ve got a fucked up way of showing it, so do you.

And he loves you too. He’s just busy. It’ll be different once we’re settled, he says. You try to believe him, though not as hard as you should. You tell yourself it's because he doesn’t either.

Bill’s gotten lazy. You’ve gotten bored.

You’re no angel, and never claimed to be. You just want to feel good.

Matthew barks out a dry laugh, almost like he can read your mind.

“You haven’t been since I first got you on your knees at his birthday party. And definitely not after I popped that sweet cherry you were so adamant about saving for him."

Bill doesn’t fuck you. He never has.

He makes love to you. It’s that romance-novel tenderness that got you here in the first place. Slow, sweet, and nearly devoid of passion. It’s so gentle you have to think of him just to come.

How he fucks you.

How tightly he yanks your hair, craning your neck until it aches. How hard he kneads and smacks your ass, bullying the skin until you sob. How deep his cock reaches. And how he takes, takes, takes without forethought. How could you accept a lifetime of only tame rutting in the face of Pavlovian depravity?

It’s awful, and it's so profoundly selfish, but his everything has you in a bind.

Matthew’s everything is ruining your life.

An uncharacteristic wave of guilt and sadness washes over you, and before you can catch yourself, you’re staring down at the engagement ring. The band constricts, digging into your finger like it's out for blood when you glimpse the indentation it left behind on Matthew’s peck. You wince, then choke down the shame lodged in your throat, screwing your eyes shut to will it away.

“If it's bothering you that much, take it off. I’ll keep it safe for you.” —wink— “I can’t imagine the weight of a rock like that, especially one you don’t even deserve. But, if you actually felt as guilty as you claim to, you wouldn’t be this wet on another man’s cock. Don’t play saint now. You’ll ruin the fun.”

You can’t do this right now; you can’t have this worn-out fight. So, you say what you always say even though you’ve long since stopped trying to mean it.

“You keep saying that, sweetheart. We should stop. This is the last time. But no matter what you say, you always come crawling back to me sooner or later because I have what you need. Because I’m not him. Because I fuck you better.”

His words light you on fire. You hate it, but how deeply your body enjoys them is undeniable. How tightly you squeeze and flutter with every degrading line, choking his cock as you use him to satisfy your own perverted needs. How his brutal honesty, his refusal to let you forget your zealous participation in the affair for even a second, arches your back and hardens your nipples.

Even without all that evidence stacked against you, the blitzed-out look on your face says it all. One look at you and everyone would know just how right Matthew is.

“Shut the fuck up,” you growl.

You say it for the sake of saying it. To know, when you curl into Bill's side tonight, that you said something to deny his assessment of you.

But the last thing you want is for him to shut his mouth.

Not right now, not when you’re right there—

“You can’t hide from me, sweetheart, and you can’t lie to me. You can’t fool me, either. I see right fucking through you. It terrifies you—and you love it.”

His raspy voice swims freely through your hollowed-out mind. It unwittingly thumbs through every unforgivable memory, like some sort of pornographic Rolodex.

Matthew’s hips grinding against yours in darkened corners and dive-bar bathroom stalls and poker tables.

His hands fighting against hard-earned sweat in the foggy backseat of his car, battling to find purchase anywhere he can so he can keep rutting with reckless abandon before you’re expected home.

His fingertips burrowing into the sides of your throat, hard enough to bruise, hard enough to silence, hard enough to hurt.

Him spilling inside of you, ropes painting the sacred place white with no remorse or expectation of responsibility.

Matty’s hand over your mouth, urging you to be fucking quiet as he pistons in and out, in and out, keeping you pinned against the bathroom door, against the only thing standing between Bill and the worst discovery of his apple-pie life—

Old habits die hard.

Especially when it’s one that always feels that fucking good. No matter how lecherous or immoral.

Or how badly the betrayal would hurt someone underserving and innocent.

“Even if you walk down that aisle and take his last name, you’ll still belong to me. Wedding or not, this pathetic, weeping cunt belongs to me. But it’s all gonna be okay, though. Don’t you worry that pretty, empty head. I don’t mind sharing my toys. Especially with someone who could never compete.”

You can't compete where you don't compare.

He doesn’t want to be your boyfriend. He doesn’t want to be anyone’s boyfriend. He isn’t the Relationship Type. He doesn’t even want to be exclusive. That’s part of his appeal, no matter how fervently you deny it. He doesn’t want more than pleasure—primal, deviant pleasure—and that’s all you're looking for.

That's all you need.

“Where do you want my load, dirty girl?”

“Inside. I-Inside me, please, Matty.”

“Right answer.”

The burst of warmth is like getting a perfect grade you didn’t earn. Or feeling the cash your sibling gave you in exchange for not ratting them out sitting in your back pocket. It's hard to feel bad about the wrong you’ve done when the payoff is so deliciously worthwhile.

Matthew twitches, still hugged by your sensitive walls, and you shudder.

This is the high you chase every time you bend your morals until they splinter. The still nothingness that lays beyond the denouement, where everything is glowy and the pit inside you appears not-so-bottomless for once. The lack of expectations and obligations. The sheer freedom that stringless pleasure, that sensual self-indulgence provides.

Matthew doesn’t owe you anything, you don’t owe him anything either, and neither of you pretends otherwise.

And you sure as fuck don’t trip on his dirty laundry every time you walk into the bedroom.

“If that doesn’t take,” Matthew flicks his hips in emphasis, “…let me know when and where you want your wedding present, sweetheart.”

You don’t answer. You push his hands away and roll off of him unceremoniously. But he keeps talking.

Matthew is always talking.

“Oh, and before I forget, would you be a dear and let Billy know I won’t be able to make it for his bachelor party? I don’t know why, but I have the oddest feeling that something desperately needing my attention will come up.”

────────────

All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2023 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

-

asks, reblogs and comments very welcome and greatly appreciated!!

⤑ to my inbox 💌

⬸ back to the catalog

⬸ back to the main blog

patrons gained access to this piece on may 26, 2023 as part of their early bird perks. learn more HERE!

[madame-fear]

𐙚 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐈𝐓, 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘.ᐟ

ೀ amira speaks.ᐟ : author has NO idea how strip clubs work so I had to do some research and ask for help,, honourary mention to my love @lady-ashfade for helping me out ♡ also,, this fic was inspired in the song Vegas by Joseline Hernández !! I badly cringed at myself the entire time but hope you guys like it ahhdjfkf rip ˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : you are Fran’s favourite stripper; and he’s your favourite client who seems to adore you a bit too much. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 2.4k

˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : smut. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : Francisco Romero x Stripper!Reader

WARNING.ᐟ THIS FIC CONTAINS ; Fran being a little bit obsessed with you, him begging to cum inside of you, unprotected sex, P in V, cowgirl position, him being a bit possesive over you, profanity, dirty talk, use of pet names, creampie.— let me know if I forgot about something else!

The blonde haired Argentine was often referred to as your “favourite, most exclusive client”.

The very first moment your sight spotted his presence amidst the large crowd of swooning men in the strip club where you worked, you felt surprised of seeing him. Surprised, because of how much of a sweet angel he seemed— if you saw him outside your work, you would never expect him to be a frequent visitor to strip clubs, or be as filthy as he was. His sweet light green eyes and delicate features were nastily deceptive.

Just like Francisco had grown to become your favourite client, you were his one and only favourite girl. It had quickly became an habit for him to pay you great amounts of money all the time, gift you small things for you to wear or have, often visit you — almost daily —, and the Argentine always had the most gentle, yet dominant treat with you; keeping the perfect balance. He had his ways of spoiling you, there was no denying about it.

Francisco paid extra money for you to give him priority over any other man, and even to spend more time with you. Though, often, you always expected him at the end of your shift; and that way, you would be with no one else after him. You could make him go bankrupt, and he wouldn’t be able to care any less. Most of his paychecks fell right into your hands, or slipped under the waistband of your underwear.

That devotion, and the constant worshipping Fran gave you, was what made you helplessly show more interest over him than over anyone else. The man knew how to make you feel special, as well as he knew the exact things you liked, and disliked.

Ever since his green eyes laid on your own, and his thin, long fingers caressed your skin for the first time, it began existing inside of him the constant struggle between feeling heavy lust, and a fervent adoration for you— hell, Fran had even grown to despise the other men trying to woo you constantly, showering you with their money whenever you pulled out a show on the pole. Could it be classified as a growing obsession? Perhaps. Did you care? Quite the contrary, you appreciated the special attention from him, and in return, you would gladly reciprocate it by serving him in any way he desired.

“Your favourite man is here,” a coworker announced quickly, with a small grin, before disappearing from sight to focus on other clients— letting the blonde haired Argentine enter the private room where you served your own exclusive clients. The mere sight of his — rather tall — presence was more than enough to lift your mood. A toothy grin was immediatly spread widely across your features.

“Hello, sweet bunny.” how come the simple sound of his loving voice was enough to make you melt? Let alone the nicknames Fran graced you with often. The sound of the blaring music coming from the speakers of the strip club became a faint background noise as you could only focus on him at the moment. The rest of your surroundings couldn’t matter less, as you approached closer to him.

“Hope you aren’t too tired for me?” you scoffed at the silly, teasing question. His arms were wrapped around your waist, immediatly pulling you against his body as tightly as possible. Your hands clawed at his clothing, encouraging him to approach the large bed with you. A smile grew wider on the corner of your lips, feeling a growing bulge on his trousers meekly poke your stomach.

How sweet it was, having him all horny and desperately needy for you already.

“I could never be tired for my favourite client.” you said, pulling his clothing towards you. “Actually, I’ve been waiting all day long for you. We shouldn’t be wasting any more time.” a satisfied smirk appeared on his thin rosy lips. Pride filled him almost immediatly at hearing those words spurring from your lips— the entirety of your being made him painfully dread his erection, strained by his pants. “No, we shouldn’t.” he retorted, quietly.

Swiftly, you managed to gently push him against the bed right behind of him. Foreplay was something you both fervently enjoyed, and often engaged in right before fucking as it made the experience more pleasurable; but at the moment, there was no need for any foreplay. There was no denying that you were equally horny for each other, all you needed was to be in the same room together for you to already grow moist and him, to grow hard.

The Argentine’s back rested against the silk sheets of the large bed, his bright green eyes admiring the way you smoothly crawled on top of him. There was no doubt about why so many men swooned right behind of you, despite the jealousy he felt for each one of them— you were such a temptress, and you were quite good at every single little thing you did.

As you leaned closer towards his face, grasping your lips against his own in a teasing manner, allowing your hot breathing to hit against his sensitive skin, you leisurely rubbed yourself against his notoriously growing bulge. The hot fabric of your underwear was moist enough for him to feel it through his still clothed erection with each friction, the same way you could already feel his precum staining his own pants.

“Please let me cum inside of you today,” he muttered in a plea against your lips, “I will pay you even more than the usual, if necessary.”

Involuntarily, his hips moved desperately against your own, as his hands firmly took hold of your waist; groaning quietly as your cunt ached to feel his cock buried inside of you already. A scoff spurred from your lips at his proposal, inevitably feeling a wave of pride at the sight of him desperately begging to fill you with his hot fluids.

“Deal.” you whispered against his lips approvingly, as a sigh of relief hit faintly against your own skin. The idea of it seemed tempting enough— after all, you had to admit the thought of having his cum oozing out of you made your underwear become wetter.

As one o your hands fervidly caressed his chest, you sat properly enough to prepare yourself to ride him. Moving your sight downwards, your hands wasted no time in unbuttoning his trousers, and immediatly lowering them. The sweet sight of his prominent erection brought pure satisfaction to you— teasingly using your fingers to slip them under the waistband of his boxers, and slowly lower them.

“I will never get tired of seeing you so desperate to bury your cock inside of me, gorgeous.” you teased, finally lowering his underwear enough for his erection to be freed from being painfully strained against the clothing, with precum already leaking from the tip. “Don’t tease, please.” he begged, observing how you removed your own panties in the slowest manner possible, only to throw them somewhere across the room and leave them long forgotten.

Widely spreading your legs, you aligned your own aching pussy with his hardened cock. Firmly brushing the entrance of your cunt against his leaking tip, lubricating it slightly with your moistness, your eyes moved their sight towards his own. “Don’t worry, my sweet love. I won’t be teasing much.” you mumbled, gasping softly as his hands held a tight grip on your waist. “I plan on fucking you until I can fully dry out your cock.”

Gently, your hips moved downwards. A groan deeply escaped from your throat as his cock began entering you. His rosy lips were partly open, allowing a satisfied gasp to escape from them as his head was thrown back— fluttering his eyes shut, his hips moved upwards while his hands guided your own to bury himself deeper. The feeling of your inner walls engulfing his own member was something Fran could never get bored of.

“Fuck,” you heard the blonde Argentine muttering. Countless of times you had him fucking you fervently in every corner of the room, in every position you could imagine— yet, every time where Fran fucked you again, it managed to be even better than the last time. Gods, your cunt felt almost like a pool from all the wetness dripping; helping him slide his cock inside you more easily, working as a lubricant.

Another groan spurred helplessly from your lips, reaching all the way down his cock, now throwing your own head back from the overwhleming wave of pleasure you received. The way you took the entirety of his shaft could be considered a grace to the sight. “You are such a fucking whore, aren’t you?” Fran remarked, beginning to slowly slide in, and out of your pussy. “Taking my cock so well, like a good slut.”

As one of his hands kept itself gripping hard from your waist, his other hand moved upwards towards one of your breasts, which moved along your own body while you rode him— lowering part of your bra to expose your tit, he took it into his hand, and began gropping it possesively as his shaft increased the pace in which it penetrated you, occasionally passing his thumb through your nipple to stimulate you further. “But you are my good slut, and no one will ever fuck you as I do.”

With each passing second, his cock began burying itself deeper and faster inside of you, provoking a fleshy sound to be hard across the room, hitting that certain soft spot that made whiny pleas escape from your lips so beautifully. His name was faintly heard under your breath, continously moaning it as your legs began trembling. Francisco knew exactly the spot where you were the most sensitive, and he would endlessly abuse it.

“Fuck—” you growled in between your teeth. Both your hands rested on his chest, seeking some sort of balance, nearly clawing at his remaining clothes, as his slick-coated cock increased the pace in which it slipped in and out of your stimulated pussy. A knot slowly formed on your stomach with the passing of the time, while your body violenty trembled. A proud grin occupied his lips at the sight of you nibbling on your lowr lip, holding back soft grunts and pants.

“Mine, all mine. Right?” he teased in between his panting, using his thumb to lazily caress your hip. “A-All yours,” you replied back weakly, helplessly allowing some slightly high-pitched whines to escape. With each hit that your inner soft spot received, the feeling of the knot increased, tightening on your stomach. This man had the ability of nearly making you melt above him with each one of his words, his groans, moans, and his actions. You were quite privileged, knowing all of his attention could only go to you.

“I-I’m about to cum,” you heard him murmur between his grunts, barely being able to mutter a coherent response due to your own mind fog from the sexual act. You could feel his cock beginning to twitch inside of you as his movements became swifter; your inner walls warmly tightening around his member.

His other hand went back again to taking hold of your hip, and you knew that from the way both hands gripped your hips to move you up and down his cock, you would have some bruises.

A wave of heat tightened your chest as your body became weaker, practically allowing Fran to move you in whichever way pleased him, while your continously dripping slick managed to coat his shaft entirely. His fingernails dug deep on your skin as his hips slightly moved upwards, and his hands forced your body all the way down his cock, keeping you still— feeling the way it violently pulsated inside of you, his cum brought a warm sensation to your stomach.

Throwing your head back as you felt the knot on your stomach abruptly untightening, while his cum simultaneously filled your insides, from your lips spurred a — rather loud — groan, deep from your throat; the same sound the Argentine made as he released his seed in you. You could get used to the pleasant feeling of his fluids staining your inner walls, thank God you had agreed to it.

While his hands firmly continued to hold your hips, allowing his head to fall against the mattress to rest, you remained quietly still on top of him, not getting off just yet. The only sound that filled the room was that of both your panting, trying to catch your breath. Your hands and legs equally trembled, feeling your heart pounding loudly against your chest.

There was no doubt Fran was your favourite client— each time he gave you a visit, you felt exhaustingly pleased. You were left needing for more, almost as if it were impossible for you to want to let him go.

Helplessly, you gently collapsed against his body. Both your arms were lazily wrapped around him, placing your head against his chest. His fluids oozed out of your pussy slowly, sliding through your inner thighs, as his cock remained buried inside of you. With one last heavy pant, his green eyes looked down at you.

One of his hands rested on your back, using his fingertips to trace mindless shapes on your skin, as his other hand went to delicately stroke your hair. “Hope you enjoyed that, mi amor?” he inquired softly, as you kept quietly panting. You scoffed in response— what a silly question, you enjoyed every single one of his frequent visits. The mere thought of not clinging to his side throughout the whole day lately seemed dreadful. “Have I ever not enjoyed anything you do to me?” you retortes playfully, earning a chuckle from him.

A brief moment of silence loomed between the two of you. Your eyes fluttered shut peacefully, enjoying how lovingly his fingers twirled strands of your hair, and caressed your head. A little smile grew back on his lips, before interrupting the silence, looking down at you, resting your gracefully delicate body against his own.

“Would you be up to a second round if I paid you extra, sweet love?”

Moving your head to stare attentively into his light green eyes, you widely grinned back. Then again, what a silly question. How could you ever deny any of his tempting proposals?

◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ ` taglist .ᐟ

@luceracastro @castawaycherry @creative-heart @cyliarys-starlight @deepinsideyourbeing @chiquititamia @koiibiito @lastflowrr

[eldritch-spouse]

Someone who for whatever reason wants to get eaten by Vorticia and so goes to the gluttony ring hoping to find her. They by some miracle get to interact with her but when they beg her to eat them she’s like “lol no,” because it turns out they’re her match

[This is fucking hilarious. Fem reader.]

TW: Macro/micro themes; Vore.

Tightly tied to a chair, you can hear them talk behind the kitchen doors.

" You're telling me you just found this one trying to break into the premises?! " The short imp you've only caught glimpses of so far sounds exasperated.

" Yes... " The much taller demon with a dark mane replies. " She wasn't very successful, but I'm fairly certain her goal was to get caught. "

" And she said she wants to get eaten. " It's not even a question.

" By mother. Specifically her. "

There's a beat of silence.

" Vorago. You can't expect me to present a fetishist to your mother. That is ridicu- "

" Is it? I would much prefer if my meals walked directly into the plate. " The prince counters. " You're doing the poor thing a favor. I've advocated for this in the past as well, think about the time and resources we could spare during ceremonies if we take in people just like her. "

" My prince- "

" Do you like chasing after them, dad? Do you enjoy spending money on increasingly expensive hunting services? "

Dad?! That little imp? Imp-ressive.

" No, but we can't just- "

" Then give this a shot, perhaps it'll open your eyes to more sustainable alternatives. "

An unmistakable defeated sigh rings out. " ... Fine. "

You smile silently, happy that the tusked high-ranker who caught you managed to get your dream to come true. For such a scary-looking guy, he's actually not that bad.

When the doors part, your head snaps towards the curly-horned imp. They spare you a skeptical glance.

" It looks like you're getting what you want after all. "

" Yes! " The cheer is immediate and juvenile, met with a grimace.

" ... Right. " They're clearly uncomfortable. " Undress please. "

Words cannot describe how wildly your heart is beating within your ribcage.

You've been dreaming of this day ever since you discovered the nuances of your sexuality. Queen Vorticia is the most gorgeous, regal, seductive demoness to ever slither upon this galaxy and to feel the caress of her tongue would bring you to a level so beyond Nirvana that you have to contain a freakish noise of delight just thinking about it. Not that it would have escaped very fair, with the strange fruit crammed in your mouth- It's starting to hurt your jaw a little actually...

Yes, you're not the most normal of humans, but that hardly matters now.

The cart you're laid upon is wheeled towards what you assume must be the main dining hall of Gluttony's mansion. The pace is slow, the imps in charge of transporting you dare not displace a single element of your large plate's design. See, upon hearing about your situation through the curly-horned imp, the chefs present decided that it would only be fitting if you got properly and excellently decorated for the occasion.

A few of them sympathized with your situation. Few things are as romantic as loving someone so much that you would like to become a part of them, be consumed by them. One of the girls was a bit emotional hearing you talk so sweetly about the Queen. All in all, you feel lucky to have gotten this far so smoothly.

A noise from beyond crashes your train of thought.

A crash. Hissing.

The imps pushing your cart whimper and look at each other fearfully.

Ah, a tempestuous mood. You wonder what has the Queen like that.

Your chaperones slow down even more, and if you could, you'd stomp your foot on the cart to make them hurry up. You're not about to be left stranded in this hall because these cowards are doubting their life's decisions.

Finally, oh finally, you can see the tall, intricately carved doors to the dinning hall. The last room you'll ever be in, if all goes according to plan. The realization breeds a heavy feeling that causes shortness of breath in you, but for some odd reason, you have no second thoughts about any of this. More servants stand stationary, guarding the doors.

At the sight of your cart approaching, said guards hurriedly open the doors much taller than themselves, seeming frantic in the way they hurry everyone inside.

You have to strain your neck to get a good look at the scenery.

Tones of orange, red and gold shower the room, it's large enough to be mistaken for some kind of bombastic ball room- But you've done a bit of research, and you know the dinning areas are the real focus of the Gluttonous Household.

Little does it all matter. You can't bring yourself to focus on anything other than the absolutely gigantic scaled woman currently seated at a massive, tall table. Her sandy yellow scales glimmer under the jeweled chandelier's light, everything from the twin-tipped tail that lounges across the room to her drooping black robe and pupils nearly as sharp as her eyes make you want to swoon, toes curling in delight.

Queen Vorticia reaches down below, you get to watch the demoness grab a flailing, kicking man by the ankles. He's muffled just as you are, but a lot more bruised and roughed up, trying his damndest to scream past an unforgiving muffler. He knows what will happen to him the moment he's raised in the air, as do you. And there's nothing he can do but close his eyes and accept his fate when the bottomless pit that is the Queen's maw stares back.

One second of mind-numbing anticipation is all it takes, then he's gone. Dropped. Her jaw clamping the second the man was submerged. Hardly a lump forms in the column of her long throat before it's over. With neither a scream nor a whimper, his doom arrives. The Queen however, looks unsatisfied. It's almost as if she didn't even eat anything to begin with, frowning at the wall pensively.

Until the platter that man was in goes flying across the room and nearly rips a chunk out of the wall. It was so fast you barely saw the flash of gold before your human eyes.

Two of the imps escorting you scurry beneath the cart for safety.

" I trussst you've brought me ssomething worthh my time? " Her voice finally rings through.

" Y- Yes, your Majesty! " One of them is brave enough to squeak, rattling the cart and everything on it as he pulls it forward, the others sticking to the back.

You can kind of understand them. Vorticia could easily swipe a hand down and capture two or three of these imps as an appetizer.

" Then hurry! Do you wisshh me to starve here?! "

A slam of a powerful fist causes the ground to quake.

" Never, my Queen! "

In a blink, your platter not only lifted off the cart but rushed onto the table, quickly turned and pushed to be in front of the demonlord herself. You almost get dizzy from all the jostling, and as your vision settles, you see the Queen wordlessly wave before scrambling steps follow. The servants nearly trample each other to leave the room alive.

You don't even look their way.

You can only bore holes into the gorgeous woman before you.

Vorticia raises a brow ridge, humming.

When a single claw descends, you imagine she'll slice your skin, peel you like an apple or go for your innards first. Instead, she stabs a tomato next to your waist and brings it to her lips, tongue roping it inside in a blink.

You're sure she can hear your poor heart thunder in its fickle confines.

" You mussst be the human they mentioned earlier. "

You blink.

" Pretty thhhing, wantss to be my dinner... " She nearly purrs, making something stir low in your belly.

At the way you attempt to frantically nod, she actually cracks a smile, incredulous. Although the hunger you've always yearned for resides in her thin eyes, there's also a hint of genuine curiosity you wouldn't typically see in the gaze of such a predator.

" Hmph. Well I hardly buy it. "

" MmMMF! " Even if you had something eloquent to counter with, muffled grunts are all you manage.

" Don't mumble, it'sss rude. "

She begins flirting with the decorations on your platter again. Every single time, you study the movements of her calloused, scaled hands as they move, waiting for the cut that never comes, the grip that never follows, she simply steals bits and pieces of vegetables and frivolous dressing. You're almost offended for a second. But... The anticipation is actually causing some curious effects in you.

In a way, every single time her claws scheme the platter, brushing over the bare skin of your legs and tickling your sides briefly before retreating with a slice of fruit or veggie, she's playing with you. Having her fun, as both an apex predator and a teasing mistress. Fear mingles with sparks of arousal you've poorly contained thus far, creating a fire that has you sweating under her serpentine gaze.

" You're almossst too cute to eat. " She chuckles eventually. Something wooshes nearby, it takes you a moment to notice it's her large tail.

You notice, rather belatedly, that there's no one else in the room but you and Vorticia, and a suspenseful quiet has fallen between you. You could not have asked for a better environment. It feels as if you're both sharing a very intimate, sacred moment.

The next time her hand dips, instead of skirting around the main course, she tip taps her way up your trembling figure and circles a long claw under the swell of your breast, watching you shiver attentively before edging the decorative leaf covering it. A more than pert nipple catches on her sharp extremity, and she uses a thumb to flick it idly, casually, head tilting at the way you squirm and exhale through your nostrils.

Your other breast is easily uncovered as well. The Queen betrays nothing in her expression when she grabs a piece of bread and soaks it in the condiment that coats your skin, dragging it upwards, swirling it around one of your tits before eagerly devouring it.

This is repeated enough times to drive you a little stupid with want, groaning miserably when she merely teases your tits and continues to torture you with featherlite caresses.

The sweet torture continues when she takes care of the rolls covering your spread legs, watching the shameful state you're in become more and more noticeable. Your cunt flutters beneath her mere stare.

" Ssstrange, I've yet to cut you, and you're already dripping. "

You'd shake your head in denial if you weren't able to feel your own soaked folds right now.

She has the mind-numbingly erotic audacity to grab another useless vegetable decoration and generously coat it in your wetness. The rounded tip of whatever she's pressing against your womanhood bumps your clit. She swirls it intentionally, tapping it down and circling the nub with enough pressure that you strain against your binds and whine behind the gag, wanting to beg her for more yet only drooling pointlessly.

She makes a noise like an amused snort, and when you toss your head back, you can hear her practically slurp the thing for all the flavor it has, her thumb replacing the vegetable and leisurely keeping you stimulated.

When you're able to look back, her pupils have blown wide, the black nearly drowning her acidic sclera.

" To thhhink that, ssomehow, suchh a preciouss gift would fall upon my table... Withhout notice... "

Even if you're loving the attention, heating up like a small fire -Probably enough to cook the ingredients around you- You could never have guessed the Queen would take such an intense liking to you. It feels like a dream.

" Do you wisssh to be eaten, my sssweet morssel? " She curves, shadowing you, strings of drool falling onto your neck and chest.

Her hues acquire a nearly hypnotizing quality, prohibiting you from glancing away while she toys with you. All you can respond with is frantic, vapid nodding while you grind yourself down on her finger like a mutt.

" Truly? "

" MMMhmnn!! "

Not even the gag could have curbed that whorish bleating.

" Then I will. " Vorticia grins wide enough to crinkle the edges of her eyes. " Tonight. In my chambersss. Your wissh comess true, in a way. "

You're not given enough time to rationalize anything before her touch vanishes, leaving you cold and miserable. The snaps of the Queen's fingers attract the same imp you met when this all began.

They look at you with a mixture of confusion and mild caution. " You called, Highness? "

" Yess. Run a bathh for me and my Queen to be. "

He coughs and chokes.

When your head snaps to Queen Vorticia, you find no hint of mockery on her face.

You're fairly certain one of the sauces you were doused in must be causing you to hallucinate...

[s1llyalabaster]

Gambling on love - Sampo Koski

Where the mischevious dealer takes a gamble on the chances of winning your heart (but you, being too drunk, doesn't notice it) ~500 words, SFW but implications of intimacy

“Oh , come on! There’s no way I went over 21 with just three cards!” 

You couldn’t even count the number of Blackjack rounds you’d had this night with two hands. Pouches upon pouches of Aideen Tokens were tossed away just from one night of gambling and… way too much alcohol than you should be drinking.

“For me to go easy on you, you’ll have to pay a little somethin’ somethin’ extra, yknow?” 

Oh, Sampo Koski. The dealer who seems to have a lucky charm (or rather, a curse to players) on him at all times. Some people say he uses “black magic” to win every time, while others just think it’s sheer luck. You, however, seem to be extra unlucky when he’s the dealer. 

“Uuuugh! How come it’s always YOU that I lose to?” You growled, the shots of alcohol making you unaware that your voice was almost loud enough to surpass the Dreamscape and into the real world. Sampo smirked, eyes lidded with smugness as he lifted your chin for your eyes to meet his. 

“Only one little gemstone has gambled away his life and gave me a good run for MY own money, dear player. You’d better put out lots more effort to even be on par with him. Or…”

“Unless you beg.”

Maybe it was the alcohol that made you be bolder than ever, but your half-conscious self decided to follow his orders. Sampo watched as both of your knees hit the carpeted floor of the casino, slightly showing off your cleavage. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, no. His prideful gaze was replaced with that of lust. But no, you were too drunk to give consent to actually do…something else with him. Sampo didn’t even know if it was the alcohol talking or not, or if future him was just going to be a one-night-stand. 

“You…”

Sampo couldn’t form a word. He’d probably been staring at you for minutes on end. He grasped your hand and brushed his lips across your knuckles, then proceeded to trace the faint lines of your palms with his slim fingers, calloused from handling casino chips and other…dirty business. 

“Whew… it sure is getting hot in here,” Sampo unbuttoned his shirt, letting his waistcoat and harness free. You looked up at him with glossy eyes, dazed from the alcohol and the sight before you. The mischievous man grinned once he caught your gaze, gripping your arm and throwing it over his shoulder to allow his strong arms to carry you. 

You felt your body slowly land on the velvet couch in one of the rooms in The Reverie. It was intoxicating how Sampo treated you like you were a doll, handling you delicately with his hands touching you ever-so-softly. 

“Don’t go…” you murmured. 

“Oh, I’ll be here with you, darling. ‘Till the end of time.” 

A/N: The "gemstone" referred was Aventurine, in case you guys didn't catch on~

[wilderness-of-thoughts]

Before:

You should be asleep. You should be rolling over right now, drooling on your pillow, dreaming of a romantic evening with some hot alpha male from a webtoon, and quietly farting (with glitter and rainbows, of course). But no. Of course not. Not when Satoru Gojo has a drama moment and demands an explanation from you.

"Gojo, I beg you, have mercy. We get up in the morning." You grumble, Gojo was just standing astride your sternum dressed in a pink nightgown. You both pretend not to see the little fashion show that Satoru is putting on for you. He has to try on all the doll clothes that will fit him. Women's, men's, unisex, classic, normal, festive or fancy - he has to try them all.

“You have a boyfriend?” His tone was like a parent who had caught his child smoking.

"Nooooo? I guess? It's complicated. Although I think he's already my fiancé." You frowned, thinking that this answer would calm him down, you simply closed your eyes.

Gojo felt his legs give way under his weight. In order not to show it, he simply sat cross-legged on your breastbone. Somewhere in the background, far, far away, he heard his tiny little heart breaking. He didn't know why. He didn't understand. When others said they were seeing someone, he didn't give a damn; when his sex friends said they were ending things because they were getting into a relationship, he responded with a shrug.

"Do you love him...?" He asked quietly, not looking at your face. He was afraid of the answer, but his ego effectively suppressed that fear.

"Hmm.... No." You replied firmly almost immediately. The vague constriction in his throat disappeared as soon as he removed his hand, and his heart began to beat more calmly. Why? Feeling his unspoken question, you sighed. You felt the light weight of his body against your chest. "Before you ask, I've known him for years. We met on some now-defunct manga-fucker forum. We share common interests and general clumsiness in life." You smiled to yourself. "we slept together a few times and stuff."

"Is he good?"

"He is nice, helpful..."

"in bed."

"Oh... Um... I don't know?" You blushed slightly.

".... What do you mean you don't know?"

"eh heh... You know.... I get more aroused reading fanfiction and watching hentai than... I mean, it's not bad... Is it normal? Ordinary? Without fireworks?" Gojo looked at you as if you were speaking to him in a forgotten dialect of ancient Aramaic. You watched him as he sat between your breasts on the print of the T-shirt you were sleeping in, with a serious expression on his face. "Sex in a relationship is not everything and that's something you should know best. For you guys it's more like a biological need."

"And fun."

"Okay, and fun" You smiled slightly. This was the first time you had this kind of conversation with Gojo, or with anyone really. You didn't have many real-world friends that weren't somehow related to jujutsu.

"Why don't you know if you're his fiancée?" Satoru asked further, being unsure whether one is in a relationship or not is something he has encountered in his life. More times than he would admit. Women often conflated sex with a relationship and he was introduced as a "partner" without even knowing it. So yeah. Gojo understands that you might not be sure.

"About half a year ago he proposed to me with a KFC set. I will never say no to food. I treated the proposal as a joke and ate the chicken. But ever since then, um... His mother asks about grandchildren, his grandmother tells how much money she has set aside for him, and he says something about a prenuptial agreement." You were now looking at Gojo as if he could explain your maybe-boyfriend's behavior.

Gojo didn't know what to say. He wanted to laugh, but at the same time he was so shocked that he could only look at you in equal consternation. If this guy took your "yes" seriously, it was the laziest proposal in the history of mankind. You deserved more. A perfect sunset, a violinist, roses, candles, a week-long spa. Gojo may have been a little romantic, but only a little. At least that was in the movies he watched because what does he know about true love? He would sooner sink into the ground than propose to you with a KFC nugget.

"Have you talked to him about this?"

"Yes?" Seeing his look you continued, "He said he was serious."

...Oh.

"Did you correct him?"

"um..." So no.

"Why?"

"do I have to answer?" You have to. You sighed heavily and hid your eyes behind your hand feeling the sleepiness demanding that you go to sleep. But you knew that Gojo wouldn't let you. "I assume that we are all alone. You are born alone, you die alone, no one will live your life for you. You are alone in the bag of bones that is your body. Precisely because, at a fundamental level, we are all alone, people seek others. Some people pair up, others join groups, associations, sects. They look for answers in religion, science. And the truth is that.. we are alone. All together we are alone."

Gojo could write a doctorate with distinction on loneliness. From his perspective, at the top you are alone, while the others were together. But when you told him that everyone is alone at the bottom... Paradoxically, he felt less lonely.

"But I wouldn't mind being alone with you." You mumbled, placing your hand on his. Gojo practically clung to it, craving your touch, your warmth, your body. He was now lying on your sternum. He felt your heartbeat beneath, your warm breath moving the strands of his hair. His cat tail curled around your ring finger.

In addition to the determination to return to his normal size, another feeling appeared in his little heart. Treat this lame guy with Purple. Then buy you a kids' set at McDonald's.

He dreamed he was kneeling before you at an anime convention, you were wearing a sexy version of Agumon's outfit. You agree.

It was one of the few beautiful dreams he had recently.

Next:

[jasminestoleyoman]

head cannons for everyone and anything 😝

JESS MARIANO (MODERN AU) : spent his birthday money on a Bluetooth headphones because his old wired ones only worked when you twisted the wire a certain way and he wasn’t messing with that.

DAIKI AOMINE : got his ears pierced after he slept with a girl who said that guys with piercings were super hot but aomine would never admit that getting his ears pierced hurt like a mother fucker.

KOSHI SUGAWARA : when teacher suga is talking to his class about why it’s important to keep trying no matter how hard it gets he always uses tanaka and kiyoko as an example. “one of my friends kept getting turned down by the woman of his dreams and now they’re married! do you know why boys and girls? because he never gave up and he always tried his best to impress her and be the best version of him he could be!”

JASON TODD : loves when his friends cancel plans. like he’s ready to go and his friend calls saying that they can’t make it and he’s all “really? what a shame..guess we’ll have to reschedule!” as he’s putting his pajamas back on and putting on a face mask and like lighting his little scented candles.

ARAN OJIRO + MIYA TWINS : before aran’s first day as a second year he found out the weird twins from volleyball camp were also going to his school as first years and had a mental breakdown like he was crying so bad “mom please! they’re so weird!” but when the twins found out aran went to their school too they were so excited because he was the only upperclassmen they liked and knew at the time.

TETSURO KUROO + KENMA KOZUME : after the first tokyo training camp with like fukurodani and the other schools kuroo was soo pissed off with kenma because outside of club time kenma would never ever talk about volleyball or other players but after the training camp all he could talk about was “oh-shoyo just text they beat seijoh and they’re going on to play shiratorizawa..” or “shoyo just sent over karasunos training regimen..” or like “shoyo hasn’t text me in a week I wonder if he’s okay?” LIKE KUROO WAS SO PISSED! He was all “so how’s your new best friend shoyo?” and he’d be so snarky and petty about it too 😭😭

BRUCE WAYNE + BAT FAM : bruce has a different playlist for each of his kids. like there’s one for everyone even alfred. but he would never let anyone know that he secretly likes a few of the songs and makes his own playlist. like his music taste is a combination of all of kids music tastes. i just know that he lowkey vibes with chapell roan.

ATSUSHI MURASAKIBARA : his mother fucker is so fucking picky when it comes to like proper meals. when he’s snacking on random stuff he doesn’t care at all he’ll eat whatever. but when it’s a sit down proper meal? he’s a whiny picky bitch. “ew his broccolis gross and limp..can’t I have a bag of chips instead?”

KEN SATO : he’s such like a baseball nerd. he collects those little card things with baseball players on and when he meets them he asks them to sign it and he gets like so excited when there’s one he doesn’t have. “mina could you please put this one with the signed cards-and make sure you put it in the protective plastic okay?” “yes ken i’ll be very careful”

RIN MATSUOKA : rin could care less about sweets and candies so he never understood why gou or his friends would beg him to get bring them back some sweets from australia. until he had a tim tam milkshake.he was hooked. every day after school rin would go swim and go straight to his nearest cafe or diner and grab a tim tam milkshake (a/n as someone who has enjoyed many a tim tam milkshake this is so real)

TADASHI YAMAGUCHI + TSUKISHIMA KEI : yamaguchi’s VA once said that the only reason yamaguchi ‘s favorite food is soft fries is because tsukki eats all the crispy fries and gives his left overs o yamaguchi 😭😭

LOGAN HUNTZBERGER : got drunk and almost got a Jacobs ladder piercing but then got told what it was and broke down crying because he said he didn’t want to “damage the goods”

the end lol

MORE TO COME BUT I COULDNT THINK OF ANY MORE I NEED SUGGESTIONS PLEASE

[rhysdarbinizedarby]

“I Love Taking Risks”

Returning for the second season of his hit comedy series Our Flag Means Death this month, Rhys Darby chats to us about becoming ‘The Gentleman Pirate’.

It was the surprise hit of 2022 no-one had on their bingo card. Loosely based on the real-life exploits of Stede ‘The Gentleman Pirate’ Bonnet (Rhys Darby), Our Flag Means Death tells the hilarious and heartfelt story of the wealthy Barbadian landowner who gave it all up for life as a pirate in the 1700s.

After encountering the actually not-so-terrifying Blackbeard (Taika Waititi) of legend, who teaches him how to be a fearsome pirate – to little effect – in exchange for wisdom about the finer things in life, the two formed an unexpected romantic connection.

Of course, with the first season ending with the pair sadly going their separate ways, creator and writer David Jenkins previews things will be challenging for our star-crossed lovers in season two: “I think [we’ll be] watching… both reorient themselves. This is their first love… You’re rocked when that happens. You go into a crisis.” With the second season premiering this month, picking up a short time after the first, Darby sat down with FOXTEL magazine to give us the lowdown.

What’s your take on ‘The Gentleman Pirate’?

It’s an interesting role because this is a guy who has a midlife crisis, leaves his wife and kids, just runs out in the middle of the night and creates a pirate crew, heads off into the sunset. And in order to sort of get to grips with who would do that, you need to have someone play the role that you’ve got to root for but, at the same time, you go, ‘Is he crazy? Why has he done this? Does he not love his wife and kids?’ So, you know, I did a bit of reading about him and tried to get into that mindset as to why he would do such a thing. And I think what I got to was just midlife crisis and boredom, and he had the wealth to change his life.

Are you a risk-taker yourself?

I love taking risks; I could drop everything and suddenly fly to Mars, but I’d be sitting in the spaceship before launch and thinking about my kids and I would have opened the door and run back to them.

So there was something there, some deep-seated darkness in his soul that led him to that point. He’s a complicated guy. I’m glad I had to rise to the challenge and try to pull that off.

Will Stede ever be respected by his crew, do you think?

Yes. I think he will be. People did respect him eventually because he did become a decent pirate. If you look in the annals of the pirates and all the booty they took, there’s lists of who did the best and all that kind of stuff, and Stede’s up there.

Do you think he had any regrets about choosing that life in the end?

That’s a good question. If I was to guess I would say no, because he wanted the adventure. He regretted, in the end, not taking the pardon when he could have – the King put out a pardon and he said, ‘If any of you pirates come in and drop your swords now, you’ll be spared.’ A lot of them did sign that they would do it and then just went back to pirating.

Even in the end, Stede tried to get out of it – he really begged and pleaded and wrote letters to the King saying, ‘Please, I’ll do anything.’ But they wanted to make an example of him: it doesn’t matter how wealthy you are, you do what you did, you’re gonna hang. So they got him in the end. But they won’t get me!

You seem to have a knack for picking great roles. What does your process entail?

Yeah, it depends what you’re doing. You know, I’m not at a point where offers are rolling in left, right and centre. So you still do things because you need the money. But I’ve been lucky that my uniqueness has only really gifted me roles that suit me, for the most part. Usually they’re smaller roles and I do a lot of guest starring on comedy shows. Also, I have been lucky enough to do a lot of voicework through various animation channels and video games and things.

A few years ago, people started to realise that, and it’s through working with Taika and a few others in the comedy industry, that if you’re going to hire me, he’s going to give you a bit more than what’s on the paper. And he’s going to do it in his manner and his way, and that’s what you’re sort of paying for.

And so that meant that I wouldn’t get a lot of roles, but the ones that I did do, I would always shine in. So thank you, universe, for giving me anything.

Source: Foxtel Magazine Australia (October issue)

[csuitebitches]

By your prior response, it seems like you believe in 50/50. Generally speaking, not everyone is willing to be in a relationship where the man is providing 100% of the bills but I followed you because I thought that was your view. A feminine high value woman bring with a man who provides 100% of the bills. Not a girlfriend but a wife who depends on her husband however, she still has her own. Her husband gives her the option whether she wants to work or not, she lives a life of leisure and luxury. Has her own personal savings account etc. Idk I thought you had a different mindset when it came to finances in a relationship.

Firstly, I don’t keep my blog active for the follower count. I began CSB to keep a track of everything I’ve personally learned over the years. My content is also mostly about productivity and self growth. I very rarely discuss love and relationships on here and only if I ever feel like it. You may unfollow me if you feel that my content doesn’t resonate with you!

I don’t, in fact, believe in 50-50. My family allows me to believe the same as well. However, my background and birth circumstances are different. Even if a man decides to provide for me and I let him, I can leave at any point because my family would 100% step in and financially and legally support me at any time - not everyone has that privilege unfortunately. Most people’s lives and realities are not the same. I cannot advise my followers based on just my own background because that would be irresponsible of me.

I never said that a man should absolutely never provide for you. I said it’s difficult for most people to not have a dual income household in this economy. I’ve already mentioned that my partner himself doesn’t let me pick up the bill. I further said that you should be able to have enough money on you in case you need to leave for whatever reason and that the reality is, most of you guys are not going to find some billionaire lovesick man who’s going to hand you his Amex card on the third day of you guys meeting. And yes. You NEED to contribute to any relationship to make it work and finance isn’t the only way. Even if your man tells you to stay at home, you’re still going to be expected to contribute one way or the other. You cannot have it all.

There are enough crazy stories out there about financial abuse. There needs to be a certain amount of time + emotional intimacy + rationality involved in order for a man to provide for you. The reality is that today’s economy is not suited for everyone. Gone are the days where $100 could be stretched to every cent and you could live a decent life on it. If a man can give you the option to work, he can also switch up at any point and take back that option. Would you be ready for a switch like that? Would your past grades, work experience, etc still be relevant? What if you decide to leave him - are you in the position to?

You can do what you like in your personal life because it doesn’t concern me. But if you genuinely think that a man is going to happily and blindly start providing for you from the first date without any sort of expectation from you - I implore you to understand that real life and tumblr hypergamy don’t always intersect.

Half of your mindsets have been screwed by these so-called tumblr hypergamy blogs, with all honesty. It’s also partly bullshit and partly very culture dependent. Most eastern cultures are hypergamous BUT there is a strong family value system, there are strings attached, and a strong cultural influence, divorce is looked down upon, you’re expected to stay with your husband through all the bullshit, you’re expected to compromise at any point and a lot more for your husband; there are expectations from both the partners. I remember coming across a blog of a girl who was this “hypergamy queen” only for her to disclose she was in fact, broke, and start begging for tips from her tumblr followers. I don’t think half of you guys even understand the reality of being financially provided for.

[onsunnyside]

um, hi baby, I don’t know if you still accepting tots but…

bratty! stepsister only allows stepbro!Ari getting off grinding up against her soaking wet panties. 😵‍💫

ok first you call me baby and then give me this thot ?? bestie dearest you’ve opened up a can that will never shut !!

you and Ari have been at each other’s throats since you met. mostly keeping it under wraps when your parents were around bc you two weren’t complete nightmares (yet). but then you moved into Ari’s father’s house and everything gets a million times worst. he irritates the fuck out of you through pranks, stealing your shit, ratting you out to your parents and even throwing low blows during your *daily* arguments.

definitely some: “I bet you’re so needy because your dad left” “do you ever not dress like a whore?” “Oof… daddy issues much? Are you gonna cry like a baby too?”

and what do you know… you find out he went on a guys trip with his friends and lied to your parents about going to some two week camp for his studies/sports. he used all that money to party and travel behind their back. You threatened to tell your parents. He begs you not to, and even tries to bribe you with free drives in his car, money and he’ll finally stop pranking you.

and yes, the bribes work. In fact, your parents think you’ve never gotten along better. you and Ari are suddenly spending a lot of time together which just included him driving you to the mall, sticking around to pay for all the things you want and hold your bags. he also becomes the designated driver whenever you go to parties with your friends 😌 and his friends make fun of him for it (be he’s really drinking pop at a party… mr party boy Levinson…) like “downgraded from stepbrother to chauffeur… that must fucking sting” and bc you’re hot, they never shut up about wanting you, or your itty bitty dresses and skirts, they say nasty things like “I don’t know how you control yourself around her” “she’s my stepsister, you pervert” “I’m just saying, if she were living in my house, she’d be far more… obedient if you know what I mean”

Oh ari does. He’s dreamt of it, fantasized about it, jerked off to it dozens of times 😖😖

you love rubbing it in his face, that he could get into so much trouble if you just opened your pretty mouth 😌 so he better pay up to keep your lips sealed !! You flaunt your new clothes paid for with his money, and make him cancel his plans bc he needs to drive you somewhere, and ofc, by never shutting up when you invite boys over while your parents are out of town. you’ll invite a guy over and literally fuck in every room of the house, telling him to stay in his room as if this weren’t his house.

what finally pushes him to the edge is when you bring over one of his friends. the same one who said they’d fuck you silly, and Ari’s forced to listen to you scream and cry “daddy” and beg for cum like a slut.

you find him getting off and take pity on him (in a bratty way) 🥺🥺 this big hairy hunk hasn’t had any pussy bc you’re taking up all of his time… how sad… he totally deserves it though:

“Having fun there?”

He peeks one eye open, still tugging at his hard length. “What the fuck do you think?”

You step further into his room, holding up your arms. “No need to have an attitude, ungrateful prick. Not like I was going to help you or anything…”

He inhales deeply, squeezing the fat base nestled in the coarse pubic hair. “…what do you mean help me?”

“How else do you think, idiot?”

He doesn’t speak for a moment and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. His hand has since stilled, his bicep still tense and veins prominent in his arms and neck, perfectly highlighted by the sweat on his skin.

“You’re fucking sick.”

“Yet you clearly like the idea.” You lick your lips, watching his cock twitch in his hand, beads of pre cum rolling down the thick head. “What’s wrong, big brother? You don’t get pussy for a few weeks and want to fuck me instead?”

“I’d rather die.”

You laugh. His mouth says one thing but his eyes eat you up like a starved man, drifting over your bare legs and tight bikini, your skin was still a little wet from skinny dipping with his friend.

“I guess I’ll just go back to Steve… he was getting really touchy, I’d hate to leave him all alone.” You turn around and sway with each step, the tiny fabric of your (pathetic excuse of a) bathing suit digs into your fleshy hips—your ass just begging for his fingers to bruise it.

“Wait.”

You don’t bother hiding your smirk and glance over your shoulder. “Yes, big brother?”

Ari wrinkles his nose, “don’t call me that.”

“Oh yeah? What would you rather have me call you?”

You did not expect daddy to come out of his mouth. You laugh, no, you cackle, “You are not daddy.”

He quirks a brow, “really? You don’t think you’ll drop to your knees the moment I throw you around a little, spank your cunt and call you a good little whore?”

You grit your teeth, feeling a different wetness on your bikini bottoms. “I dare you to try.”

now… this isn’t the daddy moment for him bc you don’t even let him touch you bare. you just bend over his dresser, and let him grind against you.

“Hurry—uh, up,” you struggle to keep your moans at bay, “Steve is gonna wonder where I—ah!”

“Shut the fuck up.” A hard hand lands on your ass, a burn blooms from the spot. “You never fucking shut up.”

“You’re such a fucking dick—” you’re cut off by a sharp gasp when he pulls your bikini to the side, the bare tip of his cock rubs up and down your soppy slit. “H-Hey!”

He groans heavily, pinning you down by your hips, “You know how easy it would be for me to slip in? You’re already soaked—what’s wrong, little sis? You getting wet for your step brother like a little slut?”

now pls… the way im tempted to replace my other Ari kinktober fic for this 😳😳 are two stepcest fics for kinktober too much already ?? 😖

[theficpusher]

gotta catch 'em all. | nr | 957 harry takes louis on a pokemon adventure he won't forget.

Gotta Catch 'Em All by punchmelarry | G | 2259 Louis and Harry are distracted by Pokemon Go, just like everyone else. Louis can't believe how little Harry knows about Pokemon, and Harry can't believe how pretty Louis is.

You Teach Me (And I'll Teach You) by teaandtumblr | G | 3615 Zayn is a librarian who takes pride in the Pokemon Gym that is his workplace. That is, until a certain someone starts making a habit of winning it off him every damn day.

Give Me All Of Your Pokèballs by WritingProseAnythingGoes | T | 5309 "What do you mean by 'my house is on a PokeStop'? No, you cannot come in. I don't know who you are. Now please get off my property." Louis bit his lip in frustration. This dude's house was the closest PokeStop he could find and he wouldn't let him even stand close enough to get more balls. "C'mon, please? I can show you how to play too, you'd like it, especially because your house is dead center with the only PokeStop for miles." Louis begged. The guy narrowed his eyes to slits, scrutinizing Louis closely. "How do I know you aren't gonna murder me or some shit?" Louis sighed plaintively. "Seriously, dude, just let me stand in your living room for ten minutes. I won't even move, I'll just stand there, but I swear to God I'm not gonna murder you. Please." or, a short fic where Louis and Harry fall in love because Pokemon Go is a thing.

Of Thunder and Lightning [series] by gmartini | T | 5598 More than just the Pokémon spark up the battlefield when Niall Squared end up in the Pokemon League Championship match.

Take Me To Your Heart by dinosaursmate | E | 6112 Harry blinked at him for a second, and shit, they made eye contact. “Never gonna give, never gonna give…” the man sang, pointing at Harry to sing the next line. “Come on, curly!” Harry wasn’t sure whether or not to indulge him. He just wanted to go back to sleep, but he knew from experience that sometimes, ignoring lively drunks did not make the problem go away. “Give you up.” Harry replied, before laying his head back against the window and closing his eyes. “Yeah!” The man cried, and to Harry’s despair he sat down next to him. “Had a good night?” “I’ve been working.” Harry mumbled, eyes still closed. “Oh. I’ve got a few days off at the moment, so just been out with my mates. I’m Louis, by the way.” --- London Night Bus AU where all Harry wants to do is sleep, but he has a drunk man singing at him.

here's to never growing up by weddingbells | M | 8195 Every year a ship leaves for Slateport City, Hoenn, carrying excited trainers and Pokémon ready for a new world. Louis Tomlinson hopes to be one of them. He just didn't expect the adventure to start as soon as he gets on that ship, but it does.

pokémon au [series] by dearmrsawyer | G | 22177 Harry gets a part-time job at the Pewter City Pokemon Centre to earn some money for his travels and Louis could not be less thrilled. A Pokemon AU featuring OT5 friendship, the ethics of Pokemon training, and a few possible extra-terrestrials.

Just Me, Him, and the Sun and Moon by SadaVeniren | M | 45502 Alola!! You have formally been chosen to participate in the FIRST EVER Pokemon World Championship Tournament. We have not made this selection lightly and have weighed your many years as a master pokemon trainer and pokemon friend in our decision to extend this offer to you! We hope that you will accept our offer and join us at the Hano Grand Resort on Akala Island! The tournament will take place starting on May 15, but we request that you join us on May 13 to partake in an opening ceremony. The tournament will last two weeks, and accommodations will be provided for you and your pokemon, but transportation to the island will not (so bring a flying type!) We hope you join us!! Professor Kukui --- AKA a gratuitous Pokemon AU featuring farmer!harry, professor!louis, paradise, pokemon battles, love, and the fate of the world

[multifandomslxt]

⛓️✨Kink Special✨⛓️

NCT:

Mark ofc🫦

MONSTA X:

Changkyun😮‍💨

SKZ:

Changbin💪🏼

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Content below...

Three tickets for the Kink Special

Note- I was asked to change Changbin to Felix.

Mark- NCT

A switch- Depending on his partner and how frustrated or needy he is.

Claustrophilia- This stems from his awkwardness. In close or tight nit spaces like a supply closet or being squeezed together in a car could make him feral. I've said this many times before but imma say it again MARK LEE IS SEXUALLY FRUSTRATED. rubbing against him in those tight spaces just gives him a case of blue balls. Even if you have no intention of helping him out, his imagination does enough. He pictures himself fucking you so good in that tight space. Bodies pressed together and your breaths fanning each other's face... WHEEWWWW. Makes it ten times better if he can't pull out cus the space got tighter.

Anal. Sex.- I'm sure we all know this but...Mark is an ass man. I mean, he has a big dump truck himself so it just makes sense. Don't get me wrong though Mark loves pussy just as much as the next person but something about fucking you in your ass just does it for him. One, It's tighter so it feels like it's squeezing the life force out of his dick and two, there is something just so taboo about it, that makes him feel like he's doing something bad.

Barebacking- (USE PROTECTION!!) Yup. He doesn't do this one a lot though. He has to TRUST you. He does not have an impregnation or breeding kink unlike some of his colleagues (yk who.) lmao. But our man Mark here just likes the euphoric feeling he gets when his dick can directly touch all the ridges and warm flesh in your pussy. It feels more intimate and that leads me to believe that he won't explore this kink unless it's with someone he plans to be with long-term. The barrier the condom provides is important of course as I said he's not in the mood for pregnancy scares at the moment but Mark here is convinced he can pull out fast enough( He never does btw).

Changkyun - Monsta X

A HARDDDDD Dominant - No room for any other opinions at this time.

Dacryphilia- Have you ever heard of those people that will fuck you so good you cry and even then they won't stop? Yeah. He's one of them. lemme just start off by saying there are different levels of sex with this man so if you're a hookup he definitely won't go this far but if you guys are actively fucking like fuckbuddies or in a relationship he makes sure that you cry EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. It's a very small observation you could almost miss it but the minute that first tear rolls down your cheek he's going to become animalistic or almost predator-like. Because of this you definitely have to establish a safe word with him because honey you could be bawling your eyes out, he is not going to stop. he only gets rougher from there.

Begging- the literal embodiment of "I love it when you beg" This kink is practically self-explanatory. But yk he takes it up a notch. His begging and dacryphilia kink goes hand in hand. Be until you cry vibes. "How bad do you want Daddy's dick?" Taunting you and making it hard for you to talk straight. He has a rule, if you want something you have to beg for it CLEARLY. That means no stuttering, no cursing in between words or sentences, and no whispering. Speak in a leveled tone. It's hard for you but that's what makes it fun for him.

Daddy Kink- Again, self-explanatory. there isn't much to say here. This kink is very specific for him though, as he doesn't like being called daddy by random people. This kink is 100% reserved for his partner. If he's called daddy by a stranger or one night stand he'd become awkward or turned off. He would think that they're trying too hard. But if he was called daddy by his partner...*giggles and kicks my feet like a schoolgirl* then, you'd get things like "Atta girl" "That's right baby daddy's here" "Have you been good for me?" etc. Also, he likes spending money on his partner so he 100% has the "Daddy will give you the world " Mindset.

Felix - Stray Kids (SKZ)

A (soft) dom leaning switch - depending on his partner

Stigmatophilia- Nipple piercings could kill him! Felix likes to be surprised. If you have piercings anywhere near or on your genitals he may just pass out. The feeling of the cold metal in his mouth as he sucks on your nipples>>> anything else. I think he might honestly be into lip piercings too. Tugging between his teeth when you guys are making out.

Thesauromania- Felix is a little perv. He steals your panties and your bras lmaooo. When he's traveling and he misses you he just takes them out of his bag and jerks off to it. I swear you complain all the time that some of your bras and panties are missing and he doesn't say shit. This is definitely one of the kinks he'd keep a secret because it's funner that way. More scandalous if you will. Probably like a dangerous game to him and he enjoys it very much Just the thought of getting caught makes him blush and get hard. He doesn't wash them either, so a lot of them become stiff with his cum hence why he'll continue to steal them.

Spit Kink- SELF EXPLANATORY. Be so fucking fr y'all. Don't lie to me and say you didn't think this man would be into something like this lol. He's not into the basic spit-kink stuff though. For him, it's more like a 'suck my dick until I see the bubbles of spit at the corner of your mouth' type of thing,' When you take my dick out your mouth I wanna see that line of spit that still connects the two together', the 'let's kiss sloppily until our saliva is running down our chin and we can lick it off each other', the 'spit in your mouth type of guy', the 'spits in his hands and rubs it all over you type'...Do you get me?

Hope you enjoyed the ride!

Do cum again &lt;3

[not-so-shy-lee-chu]

I heard you were a "sucker" for tit sucking, tickling and the like. Heh, get it cause ykyk suck- nvm anyways xD,

Imagine your in a gloryhole. Though, not the kind of gloryhole that you would think. Instead of having your mouth or pussy exposed... its your tits.. your overly sensitive, easy to manipulate breasts. With how overly responsive, match with how sizeable your breastds are... you were practically a star of the gloryhole. Though, not in the kind that you would think.. truth be told you were being held there sgainst your will. All those people, touching and prodding and squeezing your erect areolas only feeling the fiery need of your edged pussy, only fadding fuel to your masohism. The person who put you there has edged you atleast 3 months, since then.. you havent orgasmed.. not even once. You were basically a frustrated mess, now even your pussy is being exposed to the public soon. In a few days, you will be teased to insanity, teased till you go crazy, teased till you cry tears of frustration from longing that sweet sweet release... as if things cant get worse.. when the gloryhole is closed, he would make you watch other girls cumming their hearts out through a vr headset. Making you watch as their hair becomes a mess, and that sweet surge of pleasure tskes over their bodies, something that you can only yearn for. And as the day starts over, the cycle repeats itself, continuous torturous teasing during the day, and tantalizingly making you watch girl orgasm during the night.

As time passes by, your will and any defenses you might have all broken to shatters. You still wonder ever so slightly, when will you be able to orgasm? How long will you have to wait? Will your captor even let you orgasm? And, why is it that the more you're edged... the more your masochistic side is loving it~ >:)

-🍺

P.S. hope you like my teasee its only one of many hehe :)

OH LAWD HAVE MERCY, WHAT KIND OF A PARAGRAPH IS THIS 🤯😵‍💫.

Oh taking a look at this I loved it, Just forced to expose my nipples and get them sucked, toyed with and meanwhile I can't do anything to stop it and being there against my will? That's... that's hot. My nipples are perking up and tingling at the idea.

How about this tho, from the slave's perspective🪶😈:

I haven't been able to sleep at night. This guy, who kidnapped me for money. Turned me into his slave when he understood I was just as broke as he was. It was six months ago but the memories are as fresh as today... He stripped me, spend his first month edging my desperate pussy daily, tying my legs up and apart, cutting my underwear, he told me that day... I was no longer allowed to cum for the rest of my life. I begged him not to. He than edged my clit with feathers, little paint and makeup brushes, his own fingers and even... with little kisses on it sometimes. I couldn't bear it. I cried and moaned and begged him, told him about every single dime of money I had left and where I kept them. He didn't seem to be interested in my money anymore for some reason... I cried and cried, but it fell on deaf ears as he circled the paintbrush around my pathetic little nub. Licking his lips and chuckling as my button throbbed when he pulled away. That's when I heard him say... "I don't need the money anymore dear, I just found a way to make my own bank... And you're going to help me with that"

...

And now here we are... My body is completely mummified, I have a blindfold and gag on too. I can't see, hear or speak anything. I simply exist here behind this wall, with my boobs peeking put of my cozy cocoon into the other side of the wall. I can't see anything. All I know is that the guy that kidnapped me earns money from it. People come and go. I can't see or hear them. I just feel them start to play with my nipples... Oh my poor nipples. I wish there was a way to get out, to set free. I would give myself all the orgasms in the world but I can't... They play with my nipples, my poor nipples. They roll them between their fingers, caress and stroke the top of it, making my knees go weak. Good thing I'm almost fixiated here to my spot, I don't have to stand. I can just let it go. They sometimes use feathers and brushes on it, it tickles so much honestly. It makes me howl and cry from laughing. After a month or so edging, my whole body is sensitive. That's why the makeup brushes do make me cry if the person keeps using it for a long time. I hate those. I hate it, I hate how my pussy and nipple ache with each stroke. I hate how I can't touch them. I hate how good it feels yet not enough... Please. Please I'll do anything. Please I need to cum!

Ohh some of them even lick and suck it. That is the most unbearable one because I get so close to cumming and they suddenly stop. I know that guy makes them do it. He loves to hear my growl and cry of frustration behind that wall. It gets so mean, it makes me sob every time. But after that much time spent in here. I got used to it, I lost my mind to be exact :) I don't put much fight up anymore, I know it's useless. I know if I give him a hard time, he is going to make me watch girls cumming all night long as he edges my clit and nipples together with brushes and vibrators, or even call his friends to do it together. I know if I curse at him, he will tie me up and tickle me all day and all night long. My poor feet can't handle how vulgar he is with his brushes and nails. I even curl my toes at the idea of it.

So I just take it like the brainless slave I am. I just exist as my boobs, clit and nipples. They're all I can think about. I just want to cum, nothing else. I just want to cum for the rest of my life. But I know he is not going to let me. Never again. He enjoys it I can feel that. He sometimes keeps me mummied and sucks my nipples himself at night, than masturbates on them and laughs at how pathetic I am. I just stay there, squirming, whining at my gag to beg him so that he plays with them longer. Just a little longer please, I am so close. Needy and crazy as always... It's too late for me to go back. I only know this life and nothing else...

I'm a slave. That's what my life will be from now on.

Oh please don't hesitate to send asks 🥰🥰 I enjoyed this one a lot! Thank you: 🍺 anon

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Batman!Steve begins

Oh god, guys. I love Steve being Spider-Man (never enough of him, the fanarts, fanfictions, everything, please give me more), but have you forgotten about one very beautiful superhero possibility? Maybe someone already thought of this and I'm sorry if that's the case, but this fandom is a space rocket and I'm a measly slug sticking to its side.

Steve Harrington is Batman.

Big mansion? Check. A damaged rich boy? Check. A gaggle of crime-fighting children? Check. Let me tell you a story that was supposed to be a bunch of points but then my brain said no...

The Harringtons were an established family in Gotham and came from the old money. Steve was born as an only child, into a huge empty house. His parents loved him, considered him their pride an joy, but they were never around. Their love was less of the warm and cozy family time and more of an idealistic "let's make a difference in this city so our son has a better life" type. Their company invented and manufactured marvels of technology, surveillance and personal safety, in hopes that one day they could turn Gotham into a safe place. Steve knew they were good, admirable people, but it never made the loneliness easier.

He was young when they were killed, a robbery gone wrong, right in front of his eyes. He felt it was his fault, he still does - it was his birthday and he begged them to spend it with him for once, to take him to a movie theatre. He didn't really care where they'd go, he just wanted them to be present for him. To give him the most valuable gift of all - their time. And the first time he was given it, everything was over. The culprit ran away and left him standing there, in a pool of his parents' blood.

He couldn't make any sense of it, couldn't connect it in his head - how could such pure, wonderful, selfless people die, how those ideals, the limitless energy shrunk to two coffins, cold and impersonal. He thinks of the flowers his mother loved, the ones she grew in the botanical gardens in Gotham, in their garden too. She would have hated seeing them cut, laid on her grave, but nobody asked him. It wasn't a fair exchange - someone like him for his parents who spent their whole lives making a difference.

Steve just went through the motions for years. All the money in the world couldn't stave off the creeping loneliness and guilt. And just as he was about to snap, fall into the early teenage trap of drugs and alcohol, he was sent a guardian angel. Well, two of them.

Claudia Henderson used to cook for his parents and she never left her position, no matter how often Steve refused to eat, ignored her. She never pushed too hard, leaving the tray with food in his room without forcing him to eat, patiently waiting for him to come downstairs. "I'll be in the kitchen if you want to talk. Or if you want something else to eat, dear," she would always say and smile at him. His chest hurt at the maternal tone and it took weeks before he joined her. He'd stop on the top of the staircase, staring down and thinking how he didn't deserve that, didn't deserve her kindness. But every day he took another step and when he finally opened the door, half-convinced she'd be gone, that he took too long, he was met with her wide smiling face. "Hi there, Steve," she smiled and dusted off her apron. "Would you like some cocoa? It's getting chilly, the heating in this house is atrocious, I'll tell you."

The second guardian angel was Wayne Munson. The ever grumpy maintenance man seemed rough around the edges, almost crass, but he was just as kind as Claudia was. When he noticed Steve was holed up in his room all the time, he unceremoniously barged in and announced that Steve was becoming a man and rich or not, he'll have to know how to do stuff around the house. The first thing they ever did together was fix a leak in the attic and Steve watched as Wayne worked, fascinated. He handed him the tools he asked for, moved where Wayne directed him and when they were done, Wayne put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed, a comforting gesture he'd never known from his father. "Look at that, son," Wayne said and it took Steve a second to recognize he was smiling, a foreign expression on the man's face. "We did it. Not bad. Many people think when something's broken, you just toss it. Me, I like to think you just need to figure out how to fix it."

Steve's head slowly cleared with the help of his guardian angels. He mentioned to Claudia once that his mother loved flowers and that she would have hated how overgrown the garden became. The next day, she knocked on his door and when he opened it, he saw her standing there, smiling, gardening tools in her hands. She tossed him a pair of working gloves. "You should wear something old, dear," she told him, "we're going to get dirty."

Wayne sometimes took Steve to his other job, he worked part-time in a garage and fixed cars. Steve loved observing him, marveled at that skillful pair of hands. No matter how hopeless the car looked, Wayne always rolled up his sleeves, patted the hood of the car and turned to Steve. "Let's take a look how to get this girl running again, shall we?" Nothing seemed impossible when Wayne set his mind on it.

It was also Wayne who noticed Steve struggling to get his emotions out and suggested to force them if they feel like sitting inside his body - he found a few martial arts clubs in the city and wasn't even surprised to learn that Steve joined them all. And Steve wasn't just good - he excelled at all of them. There was so much rage and sorrow in him, but also discipline, fear of hurting someone after he'd cost this world his parents. The knuckles on his hands were often sore and bloodied from rigorous training, but the quiet in his head was so worth it.

But the greatest gifts his angels had given him weren't the flowers, the cocoa or the way to ease his restlessness. There were two more miracles that found their way into Steve's life, one from Claudia, one from Wayne.

Claudia often spoke about her son, Dustin. She loved him dearly and always worried when she had to be away from him for a longer time, she never told Steve any details, but apparently her husband wasn't the best father around. Steve learned so much about Dustin even though he never met him - he was apparently very smart, had a crazy number of hobbies and always tinkered with something or other. He loved radios and Claudia was certain he'd end up inventing something revolutionary. And when Steve met the kid, he immediately understood, he was full of promise and brightness that Steve never had. He was a few years younger than him, but he was smart and for some reason Steve couldn't identify, he found Steve worthy of his friendship. Steve gained a younger brother he never had.

The second miracle came into his life when he was fifteen. Wayne seemed troubled one day in the garage and, after Steve commented on how uncharacteristically clumsy Wayne was that day, the older man shared that his stupid brother got himself arrested for armed robbery (Steve's heart skips a beat when he hears that, fortunately the younger Munson didn't hurt anyone but what if...) and his nephew was coming to live with him now, but he lived in an one bedroom apartment, not enough space even for himself, not to mention for a teenage boy. He might need to take a day or two off, to figure out if and where to move. Without thinking, Steve offered the Harrington mansion. "It's not like most of the rooms are getting any use," he shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant about it, "and the trust is paying for the bills anyway. It will be no bother and you'll at least be able to save some more."

And just like that, Eddie moved in. He was sixteen, lean and dangerous looking, with unruly dark hair and even darker eyes. The beginnings of their relationship were rocky at best - Eddie saw Steve as a spoiled rich boy and Steve frowned at Eddie's petty crimes, wondering if it ran in his blood. It's not like they even tried to become friends, Eddie blared metal so loud the banister kept shaking along with the stairs and Wayne gradually ran out of apologies, but Steve didn't really care. Anything was better than the quiet or the pity.

They attended the same school, only a year apart, and Eddie ostentatiously avoided him in the halls. He started playing in a band with a few other students and made it his life's mission to piss off as many people as possible. Except it didn't pay off one time when he annoyed a group of jocks into waiting for him behind the gym. Steve saw their backs, saw a narrow passage, an unsuspecting man (no woman this time, no frightened child behind them) and his body moved on its own. Eddie's eyes were wide when Steve stepped in front of him and blocked a punch aimed at his cheek.

In the end, Steve had a split lip and a black eye, but Eddie was safe. When the jocks finally realized it wasn't worth it, that Steve was way more dangerous than he seemed, they dispersed and Steve slid down the wall, the fading adrenaline leaving his legs feeling like jelly. Through his labored breathing, he didn't hear Eddie walking towards him before he leaned into his personal space, touching his cheek to assess the damage. "Are you crazy, Harrington?" he asked in a hoarse voice. "The fuck made you do that?"

Steve shook his head, tried to get up and failed. "I didn't...you don't deserve this. Nobody does."

Eddie stared at him as if Steve grew a second head. "I don't? Even if I'm an asshole to you?" he asked, his tone teasing in spite of the serious look in his eyes.

Steve snorted and immediately regretted the decision, his chest hurt from a punch he failed to predict. Hard to keep track of them when it's five against one. He'd have to do better. "Even if you're an asshole," he smiled at Eddie and with the smile he received back, an invisible barrier shattered between them.

Eddie helped him up, slung Steve's arm over his shoulders and, as he was washing blood off Steve's face in the high school bathroom, joked that scars would make him look way more badass. "But don't worry, Stevie," he said, the name slipping through his lips with surprising ease, "a badass pretty boy is still a pretty boy in my book. It won't ruin your image."

They became inseparable from that point onwards. Eddie still blared metal all over the Harrington mansion, but this time Steve was with him in his room, yelling along the lyrics, arguing about their music taste. Eddie slowly openedup to Steve about his dad, about the life of crime, no home whatsoever, and Steve shared with Eddie how he watched his parents die, how guilty he feels every day for having all that he has. They still had their separate friend groups in school but when they came home, they would find each other, Eddie leaning against a spade and rambling about the most recent rock and metal releases while Steve tended to his mother's roses. Dustin often joined them and Steve gradually found himself smiling again, especially when Eddie and Dustin found shared love for Dungeons and Dragons. He had no idea what they talked about, but he enjoyed their heated discussions.

Some time later, Steve and Wayne convinced Claudia to move in the mansion with Dustin. She had been a single mother for some time now and the city became more and more dangerous, Wayne always had her call once she arrived back home, but the waiting never got easier. In the end, Dustin tipped the scales in favor of moving and with this final addition, the large house started feeling like home. Dustin and Eddie spent hours at the huge dining table planning campaigns full of adventure and magic and either there was something between Wayne and Claudia, or Wayne miraculously learned to iron his own shirts and scented them with lavender. A group of local kids, Dustin's friends, even started coming over for the campaigns, Eddie graduated and started working in the same garage as Wayne. Steve and Dustin went to the local college, both for engineering, as if their found family was more important than pursing anything and everything they could do. They even persuaded Eddie to take up come courses on music theory, his band was still small but Steve and Dustin attended every single show and raved about his voice and guitar skills. For a while, life was good.

And then it wasn't.

The crime wave gripping the city never relented. It might have evaded the Harrington household for a decade, but things changed when Steve turned twenty-three.

First, the man who killed his parents was finally found - and then set free for insufficient evidence. Steve remembered him, he would know his face anywhere, but the court didn't believe his testimony, he had been a child, a traumatized one, and there seemed to be something behind the curtain, pulling on the strings...

And just when Steve thought he'd explode with rage and guilt that never left, only slept underneath his skin, the garage where Wayne and Eddie worked got robbed. Not only robbed - Eddie was fortunately off for the day, but the intruder stabbed Wayne in the stomach as he was escaping with the money. The hours in the hospital were slow and painful, Claudia sobbing and holding Wayne's unmoving hand, Eddie as pale as a sheet of paper, Dustin bombarding the doctors with questions that had no answers.

Steve couldn't wait any longer, couldn't take the lawless cruelty of the city anymore. He hugged all of them before excusing himself, finding the most inconspicuous black clothes and a silly bat cowl bought for a planned Halloween party and slipping quietly into the night. He watched the security tape, memorizing the culprit's movements and if he ran the recording through a testing software of his parents', no, his company, who could blame him. Who could blame him for the other things he did that night.

The culprit was found beaten up and tied before the door to Gotham PD. Police commissioner Jim Hopper spoke harshly against vigilante justice in his speech for the media, but with his adoptive daughter often visiting the Harrington mansion and being dropped off home by Wayne, he might have privately admitted that he'd buy the vigilante a flask of finest whiskey if he ever met him.

In the end, Wayne survived, although his rehabilitation was slow and with a lot of hiccups. Dustin, Claudia and Eddie were too preoccupied with watching Wayne's every step to notice that Steve spent more time alone now, often disappearing in the night and coming back in the morning, dark circles under his eyes, suddenly only wearing long sleeves which sometimes failed to cover the bruises. His costume was well hidden from everyone, it was becoming more and more famous in Gotham's news. The media dubbed him Batman and he didn't really care. Eddie told him once that bats were really metal, whatever that meant, and showed him his newest tattoo. So yes, he didn't mind the name. Batman made him think of Eddie, of everything and everyone he cared for. He needed to keep them safe from the shadows.

Until the lack of maintenance betrayed Steve's secret. His window squeaked when he climbed into his room, still in the costume, and he must have underestimated how on edge both Dustin and Eddie were. They basically kicked the door in, armed with a candle holder and a small statue, both from the mansion's corridor. They all froze, staring at each other, and when Steve tried to explain himself, stumbled over words in terror that his family would judge him, Eddie shushed him and hugged Steve, firm and warm.

Steve never expected to hear the next words: "Let us help."

If they were inseparable before, now they were a single unit. Dustin was set up with a surveillance system rivaling the ones used by government agencies, guiding Steve on his night prowls. Eddie covered for Steve's absences and always stayed up until he returned, treating his wounds and taking notes of the weaknesses in his armor, his weaponry maintained Steve's ride of choice and was always ready to drop everything and pick Steve up if something went wrong. Which it often did.

There was an unspoken understanding between them - don't tell Claudia and Wayne. And when Steve explained to them, shaky and worried, that he wanted to bring people to justice but couldn't bring himself to kill anyone, he wanted to kill the man who took his parents from him, wanted to kill the man who hurt Wayne but could never follow through and now he was terrified of crossing that line, Eddie just nodded and whispered "I hate to admit this, but I'm so fucking glad you're saying that, Steve."

More would join later.

Robin, a dorky prodigy at the Harrington company who graciously covered for all the missing items and welcomed the challenge of adding experimental features to the set that definitely wasn't vigilante gear.

Nancy, an aspiring journalist who had a nose for crime. She and her partner in crime (or crime fighting) Jonathan collected anything and everything to expose the biggest players in Gotham's criminal underground and if they sometimes exchanged information with Batman and his mysterious comms person, it was for the benefit of all.

Their friend Argyle ran the most popular pizza place in Gotham, had ears everywhere and wasn't afraid to share any rumors that Batman might find interesting.

Commissioner Hopper who begrudgingly taped a plastic bat onto a reflector and when Steve showed up to investigate, he chuckled and muttered "well, that was easy." The trust didn't come immediately, but it was worth it.

The kids from the Dungeons and Dragons party grew up too and started pitching in.

The quiet artist Will drew designs for Steve's weapons and armor and spend hours arguing with Robin over how to find the perfect balance between making a non-lethal weapon and make it look like one.

Athletic Lucas planted trackers on the highest and most unreachable places in Gotham, utilizing his love for parkour.

His little sister Erica turned her interest in poisons from detective stories into experimentation with various antidotes.

Max studied optometry, the interest spurred by an eye condition she was treated for as a child, and threw herself into designing the most functional interface for Steve's visor, showing enough information to be useful but not impeding his range of vision.

Jane had almost a supernatural knack for identifying places of suspicious activity in the city. Most of it could be explained by her listening in to her dad's conversations, but sometimes she just pointed to a map and whispered "something is happening here. Something bad." They never doubted her.

Mike could find any and all clues in newspapers and court documents. Where he once used his creativity to craft stories for his friends, he was now meticulously focused on the tiniest hints, connecting nearly invisible dots until he uncovered the most obscure branches of criminal underground. His attention to detail was unparalelled.

Eddie asked Steve once why he chose the bat costume in the first place. Steve just smiled at him and said: "A guy I really respect told me once that bats are metal."