#even did some proper smear frames :]

[ferngle]

grumpy peebo

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

See but at least when i am rewatching the movie I can pause whenever I need to. But if I'm just sitting infront of him in his presence there's nothing I can do but sit and scrunch up my face more and more and stand very tensely and stiffly still while trying to get a grip on myself. Anyway. I would barely even call this a rewatch more as it is a relisten.Paused the movie to make this post and phenomenal frame that I landed on. Too early in the morning for me to already be audibly giggling I swear.

[pittsick]

METALHEAD ART HEADCANONS.

cw: +18. mdni. hair pulling. knife play. blood kink. spitting. face-fucking. choking. unprotected sex. marking. orgasm denial. praise. exhibitionnism. voyeurism. slight impact play. panties fetish. recording with consent. use of toys. body worship. power imbalance via aesthetics. aftercare. unhealthy devotion. art’s fetishization of softness. erotic horror energy.

pairing: metalhead art x soft!afab!girlfriend.

taglist: @blastzachilles @lvve-talks @jordiemeow @strfallz @222col @soulxinxthexsky @diyasgarden @jinxedbambi @lexiiscorect @religionlost @bluestrd @jclolz22 @destinedtobegigi @fwaist @imperishablereverie @lovefaist @shahabaqsa0310 @prismozo @jesuistrestriste @grimsonandclover @nozhdyved

★ ── Underwear sniffing addict. Art steals your panties constantly. You’ll be looking for a pair and find it days later in his guitar case or under his pillow. He jerks off with them stuffed in his fist, moaning your name like a prayer. If you catch him? He doesn’t stop—he looks you dead in the eye and keeps going.

★ ── He worship the contrast. Art’s obsessed with how soft you are; your sweaters, your clean nails, the pastel socks you wear to bed. The way you look curled up on his filthy mattress surrounded by his torn band posters? He stares like it’s the most surreal painting he’s ever seen. “You’re like a fucking angel in a pit of Hell.” He mutters once, kissing your knee.

★ ── Toys with your orgasm like it’s a game. He’ll use vibrators on you and turn them off when you’re seconds from the edge. Laughs low, kissing your trembling lips. “So greedy. I said not yet.” Sometimes makes you earn it with your mouth.

★ ── Sleeps in old band tees, usually stolen or faded beyond recognition. Most of his shirts are threadbare. You can barely read the logos. Some have crusty paint splatters. Grease from his corpse paint that never left. Others are torn at the neckline or re-stitched with dental flows. He refuses to throw a single one away.

★ ── Orgasm denial king. He lives to edge you. Ties you up with his band tees, spreads you on his mattress, and teases you until you’re crying. “Not yet, baby. You haven’t begged right.” He’ll bring you right to the edge five, six, seven times before he lets you come—and when you do, it’s brutal and messy.

★ ── Brings you to shows, but protects you like you’re glass. You don’t even like the music, but you stand in the back, cheering for him anyway. Art makes sure no one bumps you, no one breathes wrong near you. Afterwards, he’ll lift you off your feet and whisper, “Did I look hot, baby?” Corpse paint smudging when he kiss your cheek.

★ ── He’s covered in scratchy, DIY, and occult-inspired ink. His tattoos look like they were done in basements and bathrooms; which most are. Stick-and-poke runes, sigils, knives, snakes, Nordic symbols. He doesn’t care if they are pretty. They are his.

★ ── Voyeurism & exhibitionism combo. Will absolutely finger you under the table at a bar while making eye contact with the bartender. Gets off on the idea of being watched—loves mirrors, windows, risky places. Once made you ride him with the blinds wide open, his hand around your throat and a smirk on his face: “Let ‘em see how good you take it.”

★ ── You trace his tattoos in bed. Sometimes after sex, you just lie there touching his arms, tracing every runes, line and scar. He pretends he doesn’t like it. But he always turns toward you, lets you study him like scripture. “They are not sacred, babe.” He’d tell you and you’d reply, “To me, they are.”

★ ── Doesn’t own a proper bed frame. His mattress is on the floor. There’s graffiti on the wall above it; band logos, sigils, lyrics scrawled in marker. A pocketknife is usually wedged under his pillow just “in case.”

★ ── Blood kink is deeply spiritual. Not just for fun—he reveres it. Whether it’s from knife play, rough scratches, or period sex, Art treats your blood like a sacred offering. He’ll lick it off your skin, smear it on his chest, even kiss you with a stained mouth. He calls you his altar.

★ ── Performer like a man possessed. Onstage, Art is unhinged; black boots stomping the monitors, mic cable wrapped around his throat, eyes rolled back as he screams like he’s trying to tear his vocal cords out. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t break. He just bleeds.

★ ── He thinks it’s cute you don’t know the bands. You mispronounce band names and ask if Gorgoroth is “that one anime-looking guy.” He pretends to groan, but secretly? He melts every time. “God, you’re such a little poser,” he says grinning. “I’m gonna fuck you until you do like blast beats.”

★ ── Public brat tamer. Loves when you tease him in public—but he always makes you pay for it later. You wear a short skirt to a gig? You’re bent over the bathroom sink after the set, panties pushed to the side, mouth full of his rings while he groans, “Mine. Every inch of you.”

★ ── Respected but not necessarily liked. Art doesn’t do fake politeness. He’s blunt, cold, and brutally honest. Most people in the scene respect his work; but a lot are scared of him. He’s not part of the post-show small talk, he’s already vanished by then. He doesn’t need to make friends with anyone.

★ ── Music collection from Hell. He has shelves of cassettes, burned CDs, and secondhand vinyls. He still burns mix CDs just because he likes the ritual. Thinks Spotify is “too sterile”. He alphabetizes his black metal by country of origin and era.

★ ── He loves it when you wear his clothes. Hi shirt hang off your shoulders. His jacket swallow you whole. The first time you wore his torn Mayhem hoodie, he couldn’t stop staring. “Jesus. I’m going to ruin you in that.” And he did. Right there, on the floor, with your thighs still half in denim and his hoodie halfway off your shoulder.

★ ── Doesn’t smile in pictures, ever. Art thinks posing is fake. His photos are all candid or grainy Polaroids where he looks half-possessed. The only exception: blurry backstage selfies with a cigarette between his lips, smudged corpse paint and blood on his knuckles.

★ ── He’ll fight someone in the pit. If he sees someone harassing a woman, throwing elbows too hard or acting like a fascist, he’ll get off stage and personally beat their ass in front of everyone. No hesitation. No apologies. Then, he’ll go back to playing like nothing happened.

★ ── Spits in your mouth, slaps your face, kisses fou after. His favorite combo: spit, slap, praise. He’ll degrade you, ruin you, then whisper “Good girl. You take everything I give you so well.” It’s filthy and tender—like you’re his favorite pet and his religion all at once.

★ ── He thinks your music taste his hilarious. Your playlists are full of soft pop, acoustic love songs, even maybe musical soundtracks. He pretends to mock you. “Is this Taylor Swift? I’m gonna die.” But the moment you fall asleep in his lap to it? He listens to the whole album in silence to understand you. Every. Damn. Track.

★ ── He’s not religious, expect for you. Art doesn’t believe in God, but when he’s buried between your legs, licking blood from a shallow cut he made just for pleasure, when you’re moaning his name, trusting him with everything… you might as well be divine. “You’re my altar,” he tells you once, kissing the spot where his blade left a thin red line. “And I’m never gonna stop worshiping you.”

★ ── Anarchist energy but quiet about it. He hates cops, capitalism, and rules; but he’s not the kind of yell in public. He’ll burn something down when no one’s looking. Writes anti-authoritarian lyrics and slips them into every riff.

★ ── Worships your thighs like a starving man. He’ll spend hours with his head between them—biting, kissing, sucking bruises into the skin. He’ll mutter filthy things while he licks you slow: “This pussy's the reason I can't think straight.” You’re not allowed to close your legs, even when you’re overstimulated.

★ ── His room is a graveyard of gear and grime. Cable snakes across the floor. Pedals and amp are scattered under piles of clothes. There’s always at least one crackled candle, a knife left on the nightstand, and an ashtray he definitely hasn’t emptied in weeks.

★ ── Other guys talk shit until they see him play. There’s always a dude who rolls his eyes at Art’s look; the hair, the rings, the age. That is, until he hears him play. Then he shuts the fuck up. Art never says “I told you so.” His riffs say it for him.

★ ── Keeps a secret photo folder. Filled with Polaroids, nudes, pics of your bruises, your moaning face, the mess he made on your stomach. Sometimes he takes videos of your orgasms just so he can jerk off to the sounds when he’s on tour. His favorite clip? You drooling with his fingers down your throat, eyes glazed over.

★ ── Corpse paint ritual. Art does his corpse paint in silence, alone, with black metal blasting and a cracked mirror lit by candlelight. The white goes on first, then jagged black lines like rot around his eyes and mouth; raw, smudged on purpose. It’s not for looks. It’s armor. Once, you caught him halfway done — chest bare, one eye darkened, and he looked at you and said, “Don’t get scared.” Then smeared a streak of white on your cheek like a blessing. You didn’t wash it off.

★ ── Loves gore art and erotic horror. Has stacks of obscure zines filled with disturbing illustrations. Loves the intersection of pain and beauty. Thinks blood is the sexiest color. Draws anatomical hearts and crucified angels in his sketches.

★ ── Face-Fucking connoisseur. Loves to hold your hair in a fist and gently, slowly fuck your throat until you’re sobbing and drooling. He praises you the whole time. “You’re my perfect little fuckdoll. Look at that mouth, so full.”

★ ── Aftercare god. For all his filth, he’s soft as Hell after. Bathes you. Brushes your hair. Plays some mellow doom metal and lights a candle. Kisses every bruise and cuts. Holds you until you fall asleep in his arms, whispering. “You’re my perfect girl. No one gets me like you do.”

[piroulinewafers]

could u write something about hybrid puppy caleb being nasty as hell..(leaving this open, feel free to do whatever uw im open to anything). i love ur writing sm i cant stop sending asks BYEEE i was wondering if u take anons? if so can i be 💐? have a lovely day xx

𝐚/𝐧: i love puppy hybrid caleb... i dont think this is very "nasty" in the sense of the word, but i've been brainrotting about puppy waiter caleb for quite some time and maid day was a few days past so... i love writing for hybrids hehe. back in the day, there used to be this hq hybrid acc i was super into on here and i would frequent their page often heh. i kind of got distracted at the end but whatever its fine sighhh. thank you 💐 anon for giving me an excuse to write this 😋.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: puppy hybrid! caleb x fem! reader 𝐜𝐰: smut, overstimulation. 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: open.

it had started with a stupid comment.

she hadn’t meant it seriously— just an offhanded joke tossed to one of her friends while she and caleb were out buying groceries one evening, something about how those themed cafes with butlers or maid were always kind of… cute. silly. harmless

she hadn’t thought anything of it, merely a mention that they’d likely have a sale for the upcoming “maid day”. but caleb had heard.

he hadn’t said anything that night. just turned his head slightly, one ear twitching in the subtle way it did when he was paying attention to something he pretend not to be.

and now, somehow, here she was— standing in the their living room after returning home from work, door barely half-shut, blinking in stunned silence. 

frankly, it was suspicious. caleb was rarely quiet, especially not in the mornings. usually he greeted the day like it owed him something— loud yawns, half-buttoned shirts, big grins.

but today? silence. at least, until she finally spotted him.

there stood caleb, ears perking up at the sound of her entering the open-plan kitchen-living room space. 

the white button-up shirt he wore stretched across his chest, its collar messily done up, and the sleeves bunched up and slightly wrinkled like he had had been tugging at them nervously earlier. the pink pants were too fitted to be deemed anything close to comfortable in her eyes, the apron tied at his hips doing absolutely nothing to tame the broad frame it cinched in. it was pink and white plaid, with little ruffles along the hem and a small satin bow at the base of his spine, right above the soft wage of his tail. 

and, as if that wasn’t enough— frosting. a small, very deliberate smear of white on his cheek. 

he simply beamed.

“what are you wearing, caleb?” she finally asked, brows drawing into a confused furrow.

caleb tilted his head, hands innocently behind his back as his tail wagged a mile a minute. “it’s maid day,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “wasn’t that somethin’ you mentioned once? somethin’ cute?”

“you… remember that? were you eavesdropping?”

he stepped closer, ignoring her accusation entirely. “i made breakfast,” he said, proudly. “figured i’d serve it up like a proper house pup.”

she sat slowly, still stunned as caleb presented her a plate with surprising care: pancakes, stacked with melted butter and syrup dripping along the edges with a mound of frosting, beside a slightly too runny sunny side up egg.

he stood behind her once she started eating, arms crossed, watching eagerly.

“well?” he asked, tail twitching almost nervously, ears perking up against as he waited for her response.

“it’s good,” she said, voice muffled by a mouthful of pancake. “why’s the egg so— “

“don’t worry about it,” he interrupted, before she could ruin the moment. “it was just that stupid pan, but i tried real hard, so isn’t that all that matters?”

she could tell by the flicking of his tail that he was nervous, eagerly awaiting her response. 

there was another beat of silence as she took another bite— and that’s when caleb leaned in.

“by the way…” he said, practically purring, brushing a knuckle to his cheek. “i think i got a lil’ somethin’ right here. right there. frostin’. could you maybe…”

he trailed of, nudging his face toward her, ears twitching. 

she sighed. “you’re ridiculous.”

but she leaned up, gently brushing her thumb over the smear. that was all the permission he needed.

in an instant, caleb let out a pleased, puppy-like hum and nuzzled into her hand, rubbing his cheek against her palm before quickly shifting to lick it— one long, deliberate lap.

“caleb!” she gasped, trying to pull away, but he caught her easily, tail wagging wildly. 

“you said i was ridiculous,” he said, half laughing, half whining. “but you haven’t told me to stop.” he held her hand pressed to his cheek with two firm ones.

“your hands are so gentle,” he whispered. his eyes, flushed deep violet, looked up at her with a dangerous kind of devotion, all puppy-dog sincerity wrapped in pure, unadulterated, debilitating love. 

his tongue brushed along her cheek before she could speak. “you like this, don’tcha? you like it when i act dumb for you.”

“stop it— “ 

“but you were smilin’,” he said with a wicked grin. “saw it. you’re all flustered.”

she tried to push him off, but caleb was bigger. stronger. and annoyingly needy.

he whined again, low and soft in his chest, like she was about to leave him out in the cold. “c’mon, baby. just pet me a little. tell me i’m good. i dressed up and everythin’…”

his tail brushed across her legs as he leaned in closer, voice dropping. “i’ll do anything’….”

her heart kicked hard against her ribs.

the apron brushed against her knees as he grew close, his hands sliding around her waist, warm palms pulling her closer. “been thinkin’ about this all mornin’,” he admitted, half under his breath, “’bout you touchin’ me. praisin’ me. let me serve you properly. like a good waiter would.”

the air shifted between them. heated. 

he leaned in again, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “say i’m good. say it once and i’ll be the best pup you ever had.”

her hands found his hair, sliding between the soft space between his twitching ears. 

and when she finally spoke, low and soft, it broke something in him. 

“you’re such a good boy, caleb.” 

his breath caught. and then he growled— not in anger, but in something needier, more primal. 

she barely had time to register the shift before he leaned forward and kissed her— messy, eager, with the same urgency he gave to every part of his life. his ears twitched, on flopping forward as if to listen in on her heartbeat, his tail curling slightly behind him in its furious wagging. 

he didn’t stop at one kiss. caleb chased her mouth like he was starving, like she was the only thing in the would that could sate him. his hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him as he licked her bottom lip with a small, teasing flick— less polished, more instinctual. 

“i wore this dumb frilly thing just for you,” he mumbled against her lips, breath warm and quick. “didn’t think i’d like it, but… you lookin’ at me like that— “ he groaned softly, his forehead pressed to hers now. “say you like it. please. just say it.”

wide-eyed and breathless, she nodded slowly. “you… you look cute,” she whispered, barely audible. 

his whole body responded— ears perked, tail wagging in a blur. he lit up like a fuse, practically vibrating with joy, before dragging her down into another kiss, hands roaming but still restrained— just barely. 

“tell me i’m good again,” he muttered, mouth brushing against the curve of her jaw now. “tell me i’m good, please. woke up early to make you breakfast. got frosting’ on my cheek and didn’t lick it just so you’d touch me. all for you.”

his lips ghosted along her neck, needy and reverent. his breath hitching as she scratching behind his ears, a delight sound spilling past his lips.

“i’ll do anything— ‘m serious. i’ll behave, i’ll kneel, i’ll bark, i don’t care— just say it again.” 

the apron bunched around his waist as he shifted against her, still clinging, still pressing kisses anywhere he could reach. his tail thumbed again, half-wrapped around her ankle now and his ears twitching at every sound she made, every soft breath or sigh.

“i love you, caleb…”

eagerly in response, he licked her cheek without warning again— just a soft, eager swipe like it was the most natural thing in the world. “you taste sweet too.”

“caleb,” she said, a mixture between a laugh and an exasperated sigh.

“what?” he grinned, all mischief and love as he pulled back a bit to get a better look at her face. “you let me kiss you. now i gotta touch, gotta hold— gotta do somethin’ or i’m going to explode.”

gently, she cupped his cheeks, thumbing over the faint freckles on his face. she watched him tilt his head in her grasp, staring up at her with that smitten gaze of his. with a hum, she peppered sweet, feather-light kisses to his skin, finally giving into his pleas. 

she kissed him again, and again and he melted into every one— hot, soft, trembling with affection as he murmured, “love you, love you so much. let me show you. let me— “

his violet eyes gleamed with a mix of playfulness and barely restrained desire as he straddled her lap, his larger frame enveloping hers. 

the soft fabric of his pink pants stretched taught over his muscular thighs, the frill apron at his waist fluttered softly as he shifted his hips, grinding down against her pajama-clad bottom.

caleb’s breathing grew heavy as he nuzzled at her collarbone, nipping at the sensitive skin as he panted. he was painfully hard, his erection straining against the confines of his pants. the outline of his cock, complete with the distinct knot at the base, was clearly visible. he squirmed, leaning more of his weight against her, unable to contain the overwhelming urge to claim her, to make her his.

his fingers crept up under her shirt, pushing the fabric higher up her torso as he explored the soft skin beneath. he wanted to touch her, to feel every inch of her body against his own. 

“please,” he whined, his voice taking on a more canine-like timbre. “i’m so hard, i need to— fuck— “

his actions forced a sharp gasp to leave her, cold hands pressed against the bare skin of her stomach as she looked up at him, lips parted. 

she bit her lip, feeling the heat of caleb’s body pressed so urgently against her own. as much as she loved seeing him all dressed up just for her, she couldn’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed by his intensity, even though she was used to it to some extent. 

it was still so early, and her stomach grumbled with hunger, the half eaten eggs and pancakes calling her name while caleb rutted against her. “caleb, wait…” she started to protest, fingers curling into the collar of his shirt, trying to smooth the fabric and perhaps calm the manic energy radiating off of him.

but caleb seemed not to hear her, too lost in his own desperate need as he captured her wrists, pinning her hands above her head as he loomed over her, eyes wild and hungry. “please,” he growled, his voice a deep, resonant rumble that sent shivers down her spine this time. “i can’t wait anymore. i need you so bad…”

before she could voice any further objections, caleb had hoisted her up and then gently but firmly pushed her down onto the wooden floor. she let out a soft grunt as her back his the ground, the air leaving her lungs in a rush as she rubbed her back. 

“caleb, the floor is uncomfortable— “

any attempt at a complain fell on deaf ears, as caleb was already settling his weight on top of her, his hips neatly between her spread thighs. he rocked against her, his painfully hard cock straining against the confines of his pink pants as it chafed against her pajama bottoms. the knot at the base of his shaft pulsed and throbbed. 

she squirmed beneath him, cheeks flushed pink as she fettle heat of his desperation, the way his body trembled with the effort of holding back. “it’s too early, caleb, i didn’t even finish breakfast…”

his ears twitched and flattened back against his head as he leaned down to shut her up, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth, claiming her. his tail wagged frantically behind him, the long, fluffy appendage brushing against her thighs as he ground his aching cock against her core. he groaned into her mouth, the sound a mix of pleasure and frustration. 

“i know, i know,” he panted, breath hot against her neck as he nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin. “i’ll make it up to you, baby. i promise. i’ll spoil you rotten, just please— “he punctuated his words with a particularly sharp nip to her earlobe, sending sparks of pained pleasure through her.

caleb’s hands roamed her body greedily, pushing up under her pajama top again to expose the soft skin of her stomach and chest. he splayed his fingers wide, gripping her waist and rocking more insistently against her as he gazed down at her with burning eyes. 

his hands slid down to her pajama pants, fingers curling into the waistband as he tugged impatiently at the fabric. she knew she should protest more, should insist that he slow down, but the hungry, desperate look in his eyes stole her breath away. she gasped softly as he yanked her pants down, baring her lower half to his heated gaze.

the knot at the base of his cock throbbed almost painfully, straining against the fabric of his boxers and the tight confines of his pants. it rubbed deliciously against her clothed slit, the friction sending sparks of reluctant pleasure zinging up her spine. 

 his desperation reached a fever pitch, fingers clumsy in their urgency as he forced her panties to the side, , exposing the glistening folds to the cool air. the scent of her arousal filled his nose, making his head swim with lust.

still clothed in his straining pink pants, caleb tried to shove the right fabric down his thighs, panting harshly as he struggled to free his aching cock. the button and zipper fought against his desperate, trembling fingers until, with a final frustrated snarl, he ripped the fabric, tearing a gaping hole in the crotch of his pants. the ruined garment hung in a tattered state as he threw it to the side wtith his boxers, his throbbing erection springing free, bulbous knot at the base pulsing angrily.

she gasped at the sight, eyes widening. “caleb!” she scolded lightly, her cheeks flushing pink. “look at what you’ve done to your nice pants!” despite her words, there was a hint of amusement in her voice as she propped herself up on her , sitting up a bit.

caleb was too far gone, too consumed by his own need to care about ruined clothing. he shook his head, ears flopping as he gazed down at her with glazed, lust-filled eyes. drool dripped from the corner of his mouth, splattering onto her exposed clit, making it glisten obscenely and forcing a shaky sigh past her lips. 

“don’t look at me like that…” he grumbled, dejection clearly clinging to his words. 

he was left only in the frilly apron, still tied snugly around his waist, his fat cock tenting against the fabric and leaving an obscene damp spot in it's wake.

before she could offer any sort of response, caleb was rutting against her again, the swollen head of his cock kissing her entrance, smearing her arousal around her delicate folds. she gasped, back arching off the floor as he grunted and panted above her, hips moving in a frenzied rhythm.

he tried once, twice, each time clumsily trying to sink into her, but his cock kept notching against her hole and slipping out, rubbing against her folds on her thigh. 

then, with a single, powerful thrust, he drove forward, burying his thick, pulsing shaft into her tight, wet heat. she cried out, nails raking down his back as he split her own on his fat cock, knot catching on her entrance and tugging at her stretched flesh.

caleb set a relentless pace, hips slapping against her thighs with each desperate, needy thrust. the wet, obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by caleb’s grunts and growls of pleasure. 

he didn’t give her time to adjust, didn’t bother with gentle or slow. he just took her, claimed her, body driven by a primal, animalistic instinct. 

“i’m sorry,” he panted, his voice strained with exertion and ecstasy. “i’m sorry i didn’t prepare you better. ‘couldn’t wait any longer. fuck, you’re so tight, so perfect…” his words dissolved into a low, keening moan as he snapped his hips forward particularly hard, the head of his cock battering her cervix.

she could only cling to him, fingers digging into the muscles of his back, feeling them flex and tense with each powerful thrust. her legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his ass as he rutted into her, thick cock stretching her walls deliciously. she could feel every ridge, every vein, every throbbing inch of his shaft as he plunged in and out of her dripping cunt.

caleb’s ears stood tall and alert atop his head , swivelling and twitching with every sound and sensation. his tail brushed against her calves, wagging with wild abandon as he lost himself in the sensation of her tight, wet heat gripping his aching cock. 

his tail thumped against the the floorboards with reckless abandon, each thrust forcing more breathy moans past her lips, eyes screwed shut. 

“please, please… please look at me. look, look— “caleb whimpered, his breath coming in harsh, desperate pants against her neck. “i love you, i love you so fuckin’ much. i need to… i need to…” he couldn’t even finish his thought process, his hips twitching. 

“‘gonna knot you, yeah, can i?” he forced out, though they both knew that he wasn/t the type to wait for anyone’s permission before acting. 

his cock pulsed and jerked inside her as thick ropes of hot, sticky seed finally painted her inner walls.

she cried out, walls clamping down around him like a vice as she felt his release fill her up, her own orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave, body shaking and shuddering as she came hard on his pistoning cock. 

caleb’s body shuddered, muscles tensing as his knot swelled and notched in her. he let out guttural grown as he felt the bulbous flesh expand, tying them together as he squeezed his eyes shut, the sensation of being deeply, irrevocably bound to her sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain through his body. 

despite the discomfort of his knot stretching her to her limits, caleb couldn’t stop the instinctive need to rut, to claim, to mark his mate. his hips jerked and twitched erratically, his softening cock rubbing against her sensitive walls as he weakly humped into her, chasing the fading embers of his release. 

“can’t… can’t stop,” he panted harshly, his breath hot and moist against her neck. drool dribbled from his chin, splattering not her collarbone as he ground his pelvis against hers, his knot throbbing and pulsing inside her with each weak thrust.

she whimpered, her inner muscles fluttering and clenching around the thick obstruction lodged deep inside her. the sensation of being so utterly stuffed, of feeling caleb’s seed sloshing heavily inside her as he rutted into her, was intense and overwhelming. 

it was almost too much, the pleasure bordering on pain as her tender flesh struggled to accommodate his insistent movements.

she gasped out, her fingers digging into his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as she tried to anchor herself amidst the tempest of sensation. “it’s t-too much. you’re hurting me…” despite her words, she made no move to stop him, her body instinctively yielding to his claiming thrusts.

caleb just groaned in responses, hips giving a particularly sharp jerk as he buried his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply and lapping at the teeth marks he had left early. 

his body shuddered, muscles quivering with exertion as his hips seemed to jerk on their own, instinct-driven thrusts. he panted easily, breathing coming out in ragged gasps against her sweat-dampened skin. “sorry,” he grunted, voice strained. “I know i’m hurtin’ you, i just.. i can’t stop. fuck, it feels too good.”

he let out a low, agnozied groan as a particular jolt of discomfort shot through him, his knot twisting and tugging at her stretched, sensitive entrance, any attempt to pull out to thrust in any deeper stopped by his inflated knot.

“hurts… fuck, it hurts, but i can’t— “

finally, with a shuddered gasp, his body went limp, knees weak as he slumped forward, practically collapsed on top of her, pressing her into the floor. 

she let out a weak, breathless protest as she as she found herself pinned beneath him, still so intimately connected. she gently hit his shoulder with a closed fist. 

“ow, caleb, you jerk…” she whimpered, shifting her hips gingerly and wincing at the feeling of him inside of her. “you’re a bad dog, you need to learn how to control yourself and— oof!”

caleb suddenly rolled them over so that her body was splayed out on top of him, soft curves molding to the hard planes of his body.

he just pouted up at her, lips curling into a miserable frown. he looked so adorably sorry, looking up at her with those irresistible puppy dog eyes. “i know, i know,” he mumbled, his voice thick with guilt. “you don’t really think i’m a bad dog, do you? i just love you so much… i can’t help myself around you…”

he nuzzled into her neck once more, his nose brushing against her jawline as he breathed in her scent, still heavy with the musk of their coupling.

the room had gone quiet, save for the slow, steady rhythm of caleb’s breathing and the soft thump-thump of his tail against the floor. he lay sprawled on his back on the floor, cheeks flushed pink and the apron still bunched up around his waist, with her draped over his chest like she belonged there— and she did. his arms were wound tightly around her waist, fingers twitching now and then as if to remind himself she was real, she was here, and she was his.

he gave a soft, tired whine, muffled in her hair as he nuzzled the top of her head. “m’not lettin’ you go,” he mumbled, tail giving another lazy wag against the wood floor. “even if i could.”

she gave a sleepy huff of laughter, nose tucked against his collarbone, her legs tangled with his. “hm, is that so, puppy?”

that earned a pleased rumble from deep in his chest. his ears gave a lazy twitch, one flopping sideways as he smiled, dazed and dopey. he was still flushed, still panting just a little, but more than anything, he looked happy. puppy-happy. glowing with the kind of simple joy only he could manage after something so intense.

“you’re real warm,” he mumbled, cheek smushed into her temple. “perfect size. like a little blanket just for me.”

“you’re the heater here,” she teased weakly, but her voice was fond, her fingers lazily combing through his hair and brushing along the base of one ear. 

he let out a whuff of a sigh and arched into it, tail thumping a little faster now.

“spoilin’ me,” he murmured. “i’m going to get all needy if you keep that up.”

“you’re already needy as is,” she said, and he didn’t even deny it— just gave a dopey grin and licked her cheek again, soft and slow, like he couldn’t help himself.

“guess i am,” he said, his voice all gravel and sunshine, “but you like it. admit it.”

she rolled her eyes, but didn’t move. didn’t want to move. not with him still knotted inside her, not with his arms like iron around her and that soft, puppyish whine every time she shifted too far away. not with his tail brushing her calves and his thumb lazily stroking her lower back in slow, content circles.

“i like you like this,” she admitted finally, cheek resting over his heartbeat. “all clingy and warm. soft.”

his ears perked up, tail wagging harder now despite how tired he was. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

he made a soft, pleased wuff again, kissed the top of her head, and tightened his hold. “then i’m stayin’ like this forever. right here. with you. no one else gets you like this, alright? just me.”

she smiled into his skin, letting her eyes drift shut, wrapped in the arms of the world’s biggest, clingiest, most lovably infatuated puppy.

“so needy, caleb,” she hummed. she let out a soft sigh, pressing a kiss to his bare chest as she rested her cheek against him..

“just you.”

[muffinsin]

Sweet As Candy 🍬

Faith x female, dominant and buff deputy

Had this stuck in my head and originally just did a messy asf sketch of it (find HERE), but eventually felt inspired enough to write this out XP

Masterlists

Faith sits by the edge of the wooden table in the corner of the room, her frame looking more delicate and smaller than normal with the deputy’s large body standing in front of her. The woman’s hand is set on her cheek, the other by her warm, soft thigh, strong fingers playing with the hem of her thin, white dress resting there.

She watches, captured, as the taller woman twirls a pink lollipop between her strong fingers, the glossy candy catching in the dim light of the bunker’s room. Her sharp, dark eyes take in every little detail of Faith’s flushed cheeks and soft lips, parted, as though eager to taste the candy held in front of her. It isn’t often she gets to have one, not when she’s in the bunker the majority of the time, but she grows excited whenever her lover brings her some.

Today, the woman has something else in mind with the candy.

She smirks, rolling the lollipop across her own lips first. Faith’s breath catches as she watches the woman, her green eyes flicking to the deputy’s tongue when it darts out and flicks over the candy before she slowly pulls it from her mouth with a quiet pop. She loves to watch Faith squirm like this, her feet grazing the ground, her

"You want a taste, sweetheart?", she teases, turning the toy just enough to tilt Faith's chin up with the tip of the lollipop stick. Immediately, she nods, her breath catching as her lover drags the candy across her soft lower lip, smearing it with a sticky, sugary sheen. She parts her lips instinctively, ready to accept the sweet treat or her lover's finger inside her mouth, but before she is given a proper taste the deputy pulls back, clicking her tongue in amusement and trailing her other hand up and down Faith's gentle thigh.

"Ah, ah, my little angel", she taunts gently, running a calloused finger over Faith's soft jaw. She watches her lover squirm on the desk, her skin heating up below her hands. "Not yet, Faith. You know I like playing with my food", she coos, her words implying the countless times- times like this, even- in which she'd tease the younger woman, leaving her breathless long before she even started touching her properly.

Faith lets out the softest whimper, shifting just below her deputy's intense gaze. The deputy loves when she squeezes her thigh and hears her breath hitch. Her angel is always so responsive for her, so adorably easy to wind up, and the deputy lives for it. She loves every little whimper she drags from her, she loves how even the smallest touch makes her angel blush and whimper. Faith's lips are parted still, her green eyes set on first the candy still, then her lover's dark eyes. She shivers as she easily spots the hunger and lust in them. Already her dress feels a little too tight on her, a little too much, even as the woman could easily slip it from her or- as she often enough does- push it up, pull down or tear the soft panties and ravage her. Faith whimpers at the thought. She tries to push her thighs together to relieve the ache between them, but the deputy easily pulls them apart again with the hand on her thigh, stepping a little closer to prevent the herald from doing it again.

Faith's breath hitches again as she watches and feels her lover trace the pink lollipop down the delicate curve of Faith's throat, leaving a faint, sticky trail as she goes. She shivers as she feels it, arches her back and turns her head just enough to bare her throat a little more for her lover. Her breath hitches and green eyes widen when the deputy dips it lower, dragging it across her collarbone with deliberate slowness.

She gasps when the woman leans in, her tongue immediately licking across her jaw and the top of her throat, just where the candy lingered moments ago. Her hands fly up to her bulky arms, her thighs tensing up and pussy throbbing as she feels the woman suck the sweet, slightly sticky trail from her skin.

"Mhmmm...look at you...", the deputy muses, her voice thick with hunger and lust, possessiveness and desire. "So sweet...you sure you even need the candy, my little lamb?"

Faith swallows hard, the motion felt against the deputy's tongue. She drags her teeth against her throat and chuckles lowly as she feels small hands twitch by her arms. She loves making her wait, making Faith need her. Already she feels the warmth by her thigh, is sure her pussy is slowly oozing juices already, but she's greedy, insatiable, and hungry for more. She's enjoying this far too much to let her precious angel get what she needs just yet.

Finally, she pulls away and presses the lollipop back against Faith's soft lips, just barely long enough to allow the auburn haired woman to flick her warm tongue over it. Her moan, soft and breathy, sends heat curling low and heavy in her deputy's stomach. Briefly, she must resist the urge to take her angel right there, instead opting for playing with her a little more, her hunger masked by a seductive smirk.

"That's it, angel", she murmurs, voice dark with satisfaction and breathy with want. "Let me spoil you a little"

She pushes the candy into Faith's waiting mouth at last, her pussy drooling stomach cramping with want and lips parting as she pants and watches her angel suck on it obediently. She groans as she watches those soft lips wrap around the threat, how her tongue swirls over it, just the way the deputy likes it. She pushes a little more, allows Faith to properly wrap her lips around it. Her dark eyes find beautiful green ones.

Obedient as she is, Faith peeks up at her through her lashes, her doe-like eyes glistening with want and need. Within though, there is a flicker of mischief. She knows exactly what she's doing, moans and hums gently as the lollipop is moved in her mouth, pulled back a little, then back in.

The deputy almost seems to growl low in her throat, her hand rising from her warm thigh and instead gripping her angel's chin firmly. Immedaitely, this flicker of mischief is gone, instead replaced by pure obedience and need, submission, loyalty, love, worship almost.

"Oh, you really wanna play, huh?", the woman teases her, squeezing at her chin when Faith's eyes slip shut. Immediately she opens them up again, her eyes set on her lover, an innocent smile seen around the candy as she hums around it.

Briefly, her grip on Faith's chin tightens as she watches her suck the lollipop, slow and sweet, her tongue occaisonally swirling over the sticky candy when the deputy pulls back enough to expose her pink tongue. It's almost too much, watching those soft lips work and hearing the little wet sounds filling the space between them. She almost wants to pop the candy in her own mouth again, step away and retrieve the strap sitting in one of the locked drawers across the room, almost wants to give her angel something proper to suck on, her hand at her throat to feel the bulge. But she doesn't, not yet.

Instead, she pushes the lollipop back inside and leans a little closer. She slides her hand from her chin, her fingers pulling a gasp from her precious angel when they wrap around her throat snuggly, her pulse heavy beneath her large palm. Briefly, she squeezes, and smirks when Faith in return whimpers around the lollipop.

"Look at you...", she mumurs, leaning in to run her tongue along Faith's gentle, wet bottom lip, smearing the sticky gloss left behind back against her lips. Faith's breath hitches, and just briefly she feels drool build up in her mouth as she forgets to swallow, the candy held still by the deputy. "You love this, don't you? Letting me play with you like you're my own personal treat?", the deputy whispers, her fingers turning the toy over in the woman's mouth, as though to remind her to keep sucking.

When she does, Faith hums again, her cheeks hollowing slightly as she sucks just a little harder.

The deputy exhales sharply, her hunger growing and fingers curling harder against her lover's delicate throat. Before Faith can react, her hand slides to her shoulder, then her back, skilled fingers easily finding the dress zipper and tugging it down with such force it's a miracle it doesn't rip right off. She gasps around the toy as the deputy's hand tugs at her dress hungrily, clearly with the goal of getting it off of her.

"Ssshh, keep sucking, angel", the deputy commands against her lips, a subtle smirk forming when she feels the woman squirm and feels her part her lips to pant gently. Her dress is pulled down easily, her hands freed, the white fabric falling and pooling by the table and her ass, ready to be left behind once the woman shifts.

Moving her hand back to the front, she chuckles lowly against soft, sticky lips when her large hand easily cups Faith's small breast. She takes her time with her, her thumb grazing over a hard, overly sensitive nipple before she squeezes again. She loves the way Faith trembles beneath her touch, her nipples becoming a little harder, her thighs hot, her panties steadily getting soaked through. The deputy is sure, she could easily push her finger deep inside her cute girlfriend with no trouble at all. Alas, this is not what she has in mind just yet, not this time.

Pulling the candy back, the lollipop leaves Faith's mouth with a wet pop, her lips glistening, parted just enough for a little gasp to escape. Immediately, the deputy moves in again, twirling the candy between her fingers and pushing her lips against smaller, softer ones. Faith moans softly against her, shivering and jumping in surprise when she feels the wet, sticky tip of the lollipop trail down her throat again, leaving a faith, sticky path.

"Ssshh", the deputy coos, dragging the lollipop lower, past the dip between her collarbones, down to her other hand, until it presses just against her sensitive breast, then her hard nipple again, the bud trapped between a strong index finger and thumb. She feels her angel shiver in return, her breaths coming faster, her eyes fluttering shut and tongue sinfully sliding against the stronger one of the deputy.

"Let me make a mess of you, little lamb...", she breathes out against her lips, pulling away just to see Faith's warm, flushed cheeks and throat. She watches as Faith squirms against her, kisses and licks her way down her body. She drags her teeth against her sensitive throat, past her collarbone, down to her breast. When her mouth closes around the lollipop and Faith's nipple, she hears the woman reward her with a breathless squeak, her body on fire. Faith once again tries to push her thighs together, but the deputy only chuckles lowly against her, her own body forcing her thighs apart. She trails her hand down, her fingers moving past the pool of Faith's dress and white panties, feeling the damp wetness linger there the second she forces her palm against her hot mound and her fingers push against her soaked slit.

Faith squirms breathlessly, her little whimpers music to her ears, her little, ragged breaths motivation for her to suck a little harder. The herald grips her arms and shoulders a little harder, her tongue poking from her mouth, her hips rolling back and forth, desperate for more of her lover's touch. But the deputy doesn't grant it, and a single, warning bite to her nipple has Faith squeal and obey again.

"Look at that", the deputy murmurs against her skin, her voice thick with hunger. "So damn pretty like this, aren't you?"

Faith whimpers softly, her hands gripping the shirt clinging tightly to the deputy's upper body. She shivers as the woman pulls away, her lips parting a little more and a cute whine passing past them when her hand slides from her panties. Dizzy with pleasure and her intense need, Faith pants and watches the woman lick her wetness from her fingertips, her eyes opening up again when the very same fingers wrap around her throat next and pull her closer to her, until she sits right by the edge of the table. Drool and sickly sweetness sticks to her nipple when the deputy drags the lollipop lower, tracing slow, teasing patterns over the soft curve of her hip, just above the dress lingering there.

Faith moans softly as the deputy kisses at her throat, her tongue sliding against the flesh in the gaps between her fingers. She squirms, her toes just barely grazing the ground. She tries to wrap her legs around the deputy, but feels as though her body melts when the woman chuckles breathily against her throat.

"That's it....good girl, Faith", she whispers. She trembles as the lollipop drags up and down her hips and ribs, the touch gentle and teasing.

She gasps when the deputy pulls the candy from her again just as fast, whining, her eyes wide as the candy pops back in the woman's face. She jumps when the deputy easily wraps her arm around her hip, lifting her just enough to slide the dress from her and tug the panties away. Her breath hitches as she's lifted entirely, then, two strong arms holding her hips and wrapping around her. She giggles when the deputy playfully throws her on the soft bed, her fingertips curling against the sheets and legs spreading obediently the moment the taller woman moves to the bed and moves towards them

"You're gonna be a good girl, won't you, Rachel?", the deputy whispers, pulling the candy from her mouth once more. The mention of her name has Faith gasp quietly, but nod obediently, her legs spreading a little wider, her wide eyes set on the woman.

"Please....", she begs breathily, though green eyes already flutter shut when the deputy grabs at her ankle, pull it until her legs are entirely apart, until she's left completely vulnerable and exposed for her. She jumps at the feeling of the lollipop dragging against her inner thigh, down, down...

"Shhh...trust me, angel", the deputy coos between her legs, leaving gentle, open mouthed kisses by Faith's inner thigh. The woman nods, breathless, but utterly eager and obedient. She feels the woman smirk against her heated skin, her pussy aching and clit pulsing at her words;

"Good...then let's see just how sweet you really taste"

Faith's moan is soft, breathy, music to the deputy's ears when she presses the candy lower. Her body responds already, shivering, a gentle gasp passing her parted lips as the tip of the lollipop first brushes against her folds, then pushes inside of her. She's soaked already, her pussy drooling like a flowery honeypot for the dollmaker, and accepts the sticky toy inside easily.

Pulling her as close as possible trailing her hands back to grasp at Faith's hip, the deputy brushes her lips against her knee again, whispering filthily, her voice low with hunger, thirst, lust, and greed; "Mmm, you like that, don't you?". And despite Faith's sweet, innocent appearance, she can now only blush and moan, nod shakily as she feels the candy push a little lower, until her pussy swallows the round lollipop, the white lollipop stick grasped between the deputy's fingers the only thing sticking out of her. She whimpers at the odd feeling and her own neediness, her whole body aching and yearning, needy as only the deputy can make her. Her thighs tremble and pussy quivers. She doesn't know how to control it, though inhales sharply as she feels herself clench around it, the sticky sweetness and drool sticking to the candy rubbing off against her inner walls.

Her thighs quiver as she's made to essentially cockwarm it for a moment longer, but she doesn't push them together- not that she is able to, would be able to, with the strong, sinful, and insatiable deputy right there.

"That's my good girl, keep them open"

Looking up again, the deputy loves the blissful expression on Faith’s face. Panting and breathing heavily, she fists the white bedsheets and rolls her hips slightly, her eyes closed, her bottom lip trapped by her teeth as though she’s just barely holding herself together.

“Please…my love…”, Faith breathes out, a gentle whimper pulled from her when the deputy only tsk’s and twists the lollipop a little within her, turning it over, as though to ensure it’s wholly covered in her hot wetness.

“Patience, angel”, she states back, leaning down to greedily lick across Faith’s soaked folds. And while it has Faith gasp and has her hips buck up before they are pushed and held down by the arm holding them again, the deputy groans lowly. Mixing with Faith’s already candy sweet taste is the lingering sticky sweetness of the lollipop. Immediately, she licks across her again, careful to keep the candy right where it is as she whispers hungrily against the soft folds steadily drooling more and more sweet wetness; “You know I like to take my time”

Faith merely moans for her, her head tilted back, completely at the deputy’s mercy, throat exposed as though expecting the woman to grab it again. She can’t from this position, unfortunately, but her hot breath on Faith’s most intimate parts is enough to make her clench around the small lollipop head again.

Her breath hitches as it’s pulled out a little again, only to be pressed right against her entrance again. This time, Faith can only tremble and plead breathlessly as the deputy presses it against her, sliding it against her tongue and against her folds, coating the rest of her in the sticky, cherry-sweet taste. The deputy inhales hungrily, her tongue licking broadly across the woman’s wet and exposed pussy. Despite how needy she is, Faith is perfectly behaved, her legs spread and body in place still, only ever squirming a little until she’s held down again. Her sweet body and pussy, trembling, aching, pulsing, begs soundlessly even as more little pleas fall from Faith’s pink lips.

The pink lollipop is already glistening, coated in a mix of sugar and creamy juices, and sticking it back inside her angel’s wet heat, the deputy swirls it just a little slower and drives it just a little deeper against Faith’s soft, slick insides.

Thrusting faster and lapping at her clit, the deputy hums at the feeling of small hands grabbing at her hair. Faith rarely tugs, but she holds on tight, desperate, helpless, completely at her mercy, just the way the deputy likes it.

She sucks her clit in her mouth and begins thrusting with the lollipop, moaning against her as she feels Faith’s creamy juices drip down the white stick and to her fingers, whereas some of it runs down from her pussy and down at the inside of her thick ass cheeks.

“You’re making such a mess, angel”, she breathes against her clit, her teeth grazing it and making the woman jolt and whimper sweetly. She hears her let out a desperate little whine, her hips trying to lift instinctively, but being trapped against the mattress by the deputy’s large and strong hand. She almost chuckles at the cute attempt. No, certainly not. Her angel will get and take only what the deputy allows.

She pushes just a little deeper, relishing in the way Faith cries out and her thighs clenching around the deputy’s wrist and head. Her back arches off the mattress and her clit pulses beneath her tongue, sensitive and needy.

And pulling back, the deputy exhales sharply, watching bf every little twitch, every tremble, every rise of her girlfriend’s chest, completely obsessed with the way Faith takes what she gave her.

“Say you’re mine”, she growls hungrily, sliding the lollipop in and out, just enough to make Faith whimper, just enough to keep her teetering on the edge, likely ready to cum if the woman just took mercy on her and licked her clit a little more. She isn’t about to make it that easy for her angel. “Tell me who you belong to, Faith”, she practically groans against her soft pussy, yet her eyes find green ones struggling to stay open. She needs to hear it, needs to have her angel admit that she is hers. Faith, hers, not only Rachel. She owns not only the most intimate, truest part of her girlfriend, no, she is greedy. She wants not only Rachel, but wants Faith, wants every little aspect of the herald to be hers, until she belongs to nobody else.

Faith gasps, her body writhing, overwhelmed by the sensation- the heat, the teasing, the unbearable sweetness of it all, the lollipop head hitting her G-Spot whenever the woman moves it fully in her before pulling it back out. She’s sure, she must be completely covered in the cherry-flavoured sticky scent by now.

“You…yours…yours…deputy…!”, she manages to breathe out against all odds, her cheek smudged against the cool pillows and toes curling. She’s so close, right there, right on the edge…! And with just a single deep thrust again and the deputy’s tongue rubbing her sensitive clit for a few moments, Faith cries out her name. She’s tugged impossibly close, gasping and whimpering as the deputy lets go of the candy’s stick and grabs at her thighs instead, forcing them to stay apart and let her see as she cums.

Faith’s body jolts when the deputy licks at her, her tongue and lips by the white end of the lollipop’s stick to keep it in when her pussy almost pushes it out during her orgasm, her tongue then dipping to her slit and licking creamy cum and cherry-flavoured sweetness from her.

“Let’s see how many times I can make you break before I let you come, my angel", the deputy whispers, her eyes flashing with something hungry as she hears the younger woman whimper, her breath shuddering.

And still, she gives her a little time to catch her breath, licking lazily at the juices drooling from her like honey until she notices her lover moan and squirm again, her fingers lightly tugging at her hair for more. The deputy only chuckles a little at her, her dark eyes taking in her girlfriend's beautiful form on the bed.

"You want more, angel?", she purrs, a twisted smirk forming at her lips when Faith whimpers and nods frantically, begging; "please....yes....more...!"

Briefly, Faith gasps when her hip is squeezed, her eyes finding the ones of the deputy when she rises a little by the bed, kneeling between her thighs as she teases; "Greed is a sin, Faith. Don't you know?", the deputy breathes out against her, pushing the lollipop just a little deeper and twisting it enough to make the herald's back arch. Faith whimpers and gasps silently. She's panting, insisting she will make up for her sins, that everyone sins a little sometimes, that she will confess and be good, later. The deputy only massages her hips a little tighter, knowing that as innocent as her girlfriend acts, she will not spill a word about this to anyone but her, will not share how fucking needy she is, how her soaked pussy all but clenches around the candy and tries to pull it closer, how she melts under the deputy's hands and submits to her like a good girl.

That, is just for her to know.

Hungry, she pulls the lollipop out slowly, dragging it against Faith's soaked pussy lips and watching it glisten in the low light. There's a thick line of creamy, girly cum connecting it to her core still that has her lick at her lips. Faith shudders, whining adorably at the sudden emptiness. Her thighs tremble, but with the deputy holding her down easily, there's little she can do but beg for more and hope her loving deputy might just help her out again.

"Oh angel...", the deputy breathes out, her eyes taking in the candy as she drags it a little more from her, until the line of cum can no longer hold, slapping against the bed and her ass cheek instead, "...you're dripping all over it, my little flower", she adds with a smirk.

Faith whimpers for her, her teeth lightly digging into her bottom lip, her cheeks and neck burning, but the deputy doesn't allow her to feel shy. She never does, easily strips her of the flustered, catholic girl facade until all that is left is the fact that Faith is hers. Until she no longer tries to hide her sins and overwhelming need and eagerly takes it all like a good, good girl.

Letting go of her hip and leaning over her instead, the deputy easily holds Faith's lustful gaze as she brings the candy to her lips and wraps her mouth around it, sucking it clean with a deep and satisfied groan. Below her, Faith gasps sweetly, her green eyes wide and lips parting, her body tensing at the sight. Her blush deepens as she wordlessly yearns for a taste, her hips rolling subtly beneath the deputy.

"Fuck, angel", the woman groans, licking the last bits of cum from the lollipop before pulling it from her lips with a wet pop. "You taste so sweet", she praises. And she does, her already sweet cum mixing with the cherry flavored candy enough to make her taste like candy herself. The deputy chuckles lowly to herself as the woman lets out a broken little moan, her hands sliding down to her shoulders and short, but well kept nails digging into her lightly.

How she loves it when Faith gets truly needy...

Perhaps, at last, she can take mercy on her...

Faith squeaks in surprise as the deputy easily pushes the wet lollipop back in her mouth, her lips sealing around it automatically and tongue swirling around the top hungrily. She still catches herself on it, the taste not yet entirely licked off, and moans softly when her hot cheek is cupped. "Hold that for me, won't you, Rachel?", the deputy coos. She watches the woman moan and hum around it, her hips rolling still and thighs moving slightly, as though she's fighting the urge to press them together and rub them against one another already.

Alas, the deputy is hungry now.

And what better taste than straight from the source?

[drivinmeinsane]

i need you to talk more about colts nipple piercings please

I hope some filth will suffice. Any mention of tits (especially with pierced nipples) is enough to pry me off the projects I'm working on and drag me out of my cave to post a drabble. I’m a simple person.

COLT SEAVERS {Playtime}

Colt Seavers x GN!Reader ※ { drabble } ※ { masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: Colt's chest gets some appreciation. ※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content. ※ Content/tags: Male Breast Worship, Consensual Use of Restraints, Nipple Play, Cumming in Pants, Bottom Colt, Edging, No Use of Y/N, No Pronouns Given for Reader ※ Word count: 1028 ※ Status: One-shot / Complete

Muffled sobs and the creak of a bed frame pollute the room’s silence. It’s not something that can be helped. Not when the creator of the noises is so fraught with the desire to be used.

There, put on display atop the mattress, is Colt. His mouth is stretched open wide, jaw straining to accommodate the gag tucked between his teeth. The stuntman’s hands are bound over his head and secured to the bars of the frame. He’s anything but relaxed. How can he be when he’s still wearing pants? His erection is straining at the material of them. Moisture is pooled at the place where his cock’s head bulges the distressed fabric of his jeans. If he were not also confined in his underwear, you’re sure you would be able to see his flushed skin and dribbling slit through the unraveling threads.

He’s been left leaking for a long time. You have reduced the blond man to bucking in place, squirming, in the attempt to find the friction you’ve not been granting enough of. Tears are leaking from his eyes and rolling down his cheeks until they are stopped by the strap holding the gag in place.

You like Colt spread out like this. Maybe moreso than when you have him on his knees. He is more desperate this way.

Tearing your eyes away from the pretty picture he makes all wet and eager for your attention, you focus your gaze elsewhere. You’re not here for his cock. It’s an afterthought. It’s his chest that you’re interested in. All bare and reddened from where you have already mouthed at the tender flesh long enough to drive the bound stuntman insane, it waits for you.

In gestures of proper care, you have let him have a rest that he did not want, but needed. You had offered him water, carefully angled the glass so that the liquid slid into his mouth with ease before gagging him again. Even his arms and hands had been rubbed to ensure his circulation is satisfactory. It’s time to resume your play.

“Are you ready?” you question only to get a frantic nod in response.

Pleased by his enthusiasm, you slowly get onto the bed. He’s nearly shaking with how badly he wants this. Catching his raised knees with your hands, you push ever so slightly. He lets his legs fall open, hoping you will finally give him what he has been not so silently begging for—a filled hole.

You’re not.

Instead, you shuffle forwards, feeling the mattress shift under your weight, until your own knees are nestled in the apex of his thighs. You lower your body, draping yourself over his. His cock twitches, eager, underneath your stomach. Colt tries to rut against you without permission. Your shirt gets rucked up in the attempt, smearing the precum that has beaded up through his pants against your bare skin. Punishment for the infraction comes quick.

The fingers of your left hand clamp down hard around his left nipple. Upon receiving the harsh contact, Colt moans around the gag and throws his head back. The motion bares his neck, highlighting the sweat gleaming tantalizingly over the curve of his Adam’s apple. It makes you want to lick the column of his throat. You resist.

Letting up on the pressure, you roll the nub between your fingers. It’s hot to the touch, nearly as firm as the bar adorning it. His piercings had seemed so impractical at the time, but they’ve quickly become a source of entertainment for the both of you.

Needing to chase your own release, you brace your knees against the bed and swing one leg over to straddle his thigh. It’s thick between your own. Setting a steady pace, you grind your pelvis down against the firm appendage. Having just had a reminder, Colt knows that he is not allowed to move with you, to race to completion at your side. He keeps himself still even as your mouth seals around the nipple that is not being caressed long past the edge of over stimulation by the dry brush of your thumb.

Your tongue traces over the ends of the barbell, flicking lightly at the metal rather than his skin directly. It drags a guttural, pleading moan from the man underneath you. You raise your head, sucking firmly on the stuntman’s nipple as you do so. It leaves your mouth with a wet pop, swollen and used.

“Not yet,” you tell him.

Spurred by his quiet whines, your pace becomes hurried. Your underwear is soaked through, chafing against you with every thrust of your hips. You’re hovering on the edge. This session is rapidly reaching a conclusion.

Colt shifts under you again as you stop teasing his nipple with your fingers and switch to cupping his other breast with your right hand. You adjust your position on top of his body to lick over the newly abandoned teat with slow passes of your tongue, wetting it. At the newly introduced sensation, the stuntman jerks, drawing his legs up just enough to give you a better angle to rut against. Your licking turns into sucking bites of the soft skin under his nipple.

Like thunder rolling over the plains, your orgasm hits you. You ride him as you ride it out, hips stuttering and pressing against the tensed muscles of his thigh. Your release leaves you panting wetly against his chest. Your lips are grazing his sternum as your hips slow and finally still.

As a reward, your hand leaves his tit. You drag your fingers down the blond man’s sweat-slick body. His abdomen tenses in anticipation when your touch graces it before reaching his belt and then finally one of the places where he’s been craving your touch. Not bothering to undo the button and fly of his jeans, you press the palm of your hand against his erection. You rub it against Colt, traveling along the swell of him. Your fingers find and circle the head of his cock through the layers. His precum clings to your digits, sticky. He cums, making a further mess of himself.

“Good boy, Colt.”

Do not repost, copy, or reproduce my work to other sites or in other media formats. Do not use it for anything to do with AI. Thank you.

[wtfdemother]

Give me a little love…

CW: Day 3 of Kinktober 👻🤝 fair warning for the following: dubious consent + non-con voyeurism + public masturbation + mentions of stalking. König is a lovesick dog. NSFW

The air is crisp and cold on the skin, the moon bathes the forest floor in a white, glowing light. The bitterness of autumn sets in.

He hates himself for this.

He hates that he’s so awkward in his ways that he can’t even come up to you and ask you out proper. You were a joy to be with, sometimes. Other times, he cursed your insubordination, often wondering how you got this far with all your quips and brashness. Perhaps it was because you ruled with an iron fist. “It’s my truth,” you’d say, “I say it as I see it.” He liked that, he respected that you stood your ground, loved it even. He cherished every bit of interaction he had with you.

His large frame stalks the dirt road, out of the tree line to your house. A lump forms in his throat and he swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing from the slow descent of his saliva. You’re home, he can see it as he crouches, eyeing the window that frames you. He sneaks up to your porch, pressing his broad shoulders up against the white wood, his temple sweaty with nerves. König’s heart is in his mouth, nevermind his throat—he’s ready to vomit. His ears ring with discomfort, was the world always spinning so fast? What is he doing, spying on the one he loves the most? This is insane, he thinks, she’s your coworker, it’s immoral, it’s shameless; depraved even, it’s—

Wunderschöne.

It’s everything he’s wished for, hoped for in finding love. He stills himself in the bushes, captivated by you. Or maybe it was the way your living room light bathed your surroundings in a nice, warm, orange hue that gave you that extra hint of coziness he longed for. You’re dancing to love songs, singing with a wooden spoon in hand while something delicious simmers on the stove. Steam wafts through the air, transporting the smell of home cooked food to the porch door left slightly ajar. It hits König’s nostrils, going straight to his stomach. It pulls a longing sigh from him, you looked so at peace like this, pouring all of your love and attention into the things you do because you seemingly had an abundance of it.

He’d do anything to get a crumb. He’d stoop low, lick whatever you had to offer off the floor.

For now, he’s content pretending he was right beside you while you eat, huddled in the corner of the couch with your blankets and your bowl of food. He can’t see what you’re watching from this angle, how he wishes he could. How he wishes he was the one you were cuddling against and not some uncomfortable armrest. It was unfair.

It was unfair how he’d have to resort to fisting his cock in the cold, open air while you whine and fuss on the couch, legs spread wide as your fingers try to curl up against that particularly spongy spot in your weeping cunt. It was disheartening, your fingers brushing just barely, almost like a feather-like touch on the spot you so desperately wanted to reach. But you couldn’t, and it frustrate König as much as it did you.

He got off on it, his thumb carefully smearing his precum all over the tip, slowly pumping out more until his shaft was coated with slick and sheen. He got whiny, he wanted more; needed more. Carefully, silently, König rose from the bushes and padded his way onto the patio, getting closer to your muffled sounds. He nestles himself just below the large, wide window leading into the living room, where he can hear everything clearly.

“König…” His name. He almost topples over the edge. A hand quickly clasps over his mouth, a deep, wanting whine arose from his chest. You say his name like a prayer, it fell from your lips with such devotion. “König—König, I need you… I need you so bad…” Squelching noises and moans all travel straight to his ears and down his twitching dick, König begins to fist himself in fervour to the rhythm of your fingers plunging deep in your sopping pussy. Your cries like honey.

“I’m here, Liebchen…I’m right here…” His hips buck into his hand, lost in the image of giving you the release you deserved while chasing his. “But you don’t get to cum yet…not yet, meine liebe, not yet…! Liebling!” With a shuddering rasp, König comes undone, spewing thick ropes of his potent seed on your porch.

He had the time to collect himself, feel the breeze on his softened cock, and still he could hear your pleads for release above. He tuts, “Meine liebling… don’t worry, I got you…”

He decided to call you. On his knees peaking through the window, watching you squirm while you panic over where you last put your phone. Your eyes narrow on the buzzing device on the table, with your clean hand and chest heaving, you answer it.

“H-hello?” You try not to sound too out of breath, König’s baby blues land on your hand still cupping your mound.

“Coworker!” He’d say just to bug, revelling on how your shoulders would slump upon hearing his voice.

“König,” your voice was like a balm to his ears, his cock twitched in his hand. “It’s late, boss. What’re you calling me so late for?”

He’s caught in a box, he doesn’t know what to say. König’s at a loss for words, and the only ones he can think of are the truth. “I… I missed hearing your voice.” He admits slowly, his words hushed. “I miss being with you, ——.”

He rarely says your name, you take it as a sign. The syllables that fell off his lips pool straight into the warmth below your belly, you press your lips into a fine line. “Why don’t you come over?”

He’ll be on his way before you even know it too.

[peakyblinders1919]

i saw that you were asking for some dad requests and i was thinking maybe dad!john just being domestic with his kids and wife

“Daddy home!”

You were quite used to the incoherent babbles of your youngest, if not on your hip then she was always close by. Currently, she was in the high chair smearing some kind of berry puree over her face, your back to her as you slaved over the sauce for dinner. It was harder work than you remembered, actually, it had always been hard work, at one point in time you were just more used to it. Part of you, the part that was a bit sweaty from the heat of the burner, or maybe the part that could only mumble at Lucy’s words, not giving her your proper attention, it was those parts combined that made you regret dismissing the cook and the maid earlier this week. It was just easy to keep your mind busy when you literally had your hands full.

“I told you sweetheart, Daddy will be home soon. Not too long now, four more days.” You weren’t ashamed to admit to counting down the days until your husband’s return, not to the 2 year-old at least. Some of the others were old enough to know, and everyone in the household was old enough now to miss John when he was away on these “required” trips. You suggested the others play outside, figuring the sun and the distraction would do them all some good. Which it did, taking a peak out the window about the sink to see George, Peter, and William chasing after their big sister through the fields to the side of the house. The only bad thing about your motherly suggestion was that it left the house quiet. 

Too quiet. 

You were glad for Lucy’s babblings, however incoherent.

“Daddy home! Daddy home! See Daddy.”

“Yes baby, soon.”

“Not soon enough, aye?” It was the familiar smell of tobacco that made you stop in your tracks, but it was the Brummie accent that nearly brought happy tears to your eyes before even trying towards the door. The kids’ giggled with excitement by his side, nearly hanging on him, more excited to see him than you were.

“John Shelby, what is the meaning of this?” Shock, excitement, and faux annoyance folded onto your features, hands on your hips as you looked at him. Though, the longer you looked at him, the quicker you wanted him in your space again, breathing your air, taking it away from you in the style of a kiss.

“Can’t a man surprise his wife and family?” His voice reflected your annoyance, though his was rooted in his surprise not being appreciated when it was far from the truth.

You thought about hitting him with a quick-witted quip, but decided better of it, not wanting your first time in two weeks being make-up sex.

“Absolutely.” You smiled, walking towards him and finally settling against him, feeling every ounce of tension leave you when his arms wrapped strongly around your frame. “You can surprise us any day.” A kiss to your temple his only reply until you finally unburied your head from his chest so he could kiss you properly. 

All the kids cringed. All for Lucy, who clapped and holster, proud of herself for announcing his return. 

So much time and yet so little had passed, but John missed you. Missed you more than you could know, though you had the slightest suspicion because of the way he looked at you when he stepped in, and the way he continued looking at you now. Eyes dark with lust and desire and hunger for you and only you.

“Daaaaadd…” Katie whined, pulling at his arm for some of his attention.

It was hard for him to take his eyes off you.

“Right,” he cleared his throat, “speaking of surprises. You lot didn’t think Dad’d come ‘one empty handed, did ya?”

The next few minutes we’re like Christmas- special candies for the boys, a silk skirt for Katie, a pair of booties for Lucy, “and yours you’ll have to wait to use in the bedroom later,” he whispered in your ear. Slapping his chest, though his humor might not have been missed, or his inappropriate innuendos, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You couldn’t resist kissing him again, his lips tasting even better than you imagined, better than you remembered. You lost yourself in his lips, their softness, their gentleness, the way they knew exactly when to push and yours pull and vice versa, moving in synchronicity that can only be due to years of exploring each other. You only knew you’d both gotten over zealous when the kids began their teasingly disgusted sounds, and it wasn’t due to the candy they’d devoured.

“Well, now that Dad’s back, it’s his turn to tuck everyone in and read them to bed,” you declared with a devilish grin his way, the kids cheering, practically racing upstairs to change into their nightgowns. Your stories just weren’t as interesting (which also meant they were more effective at sending them to sleep). 

“And while you do that, I’ll be in our room… unwrapping that present of yours. I think I have a little surprise of my own for you.”

And you swore you’d never seen John Shelby blush, not that you could remember anyway.

[astro-break]

New hypmic anime season and I'm BACK IN THE FUCKING BUILDING AGAIN (I feel like the Martha I'm coming home sweetie audio)

Thoughts on the 1st ep of Hypmic Rhyme Anima+. Spoilers beware

New plotline lets gooooooo I like that they're straying away from the drama tracks actually, Rhyme Anima is fundamentally a different experience from the core drama tracks which gives new material for both new and old fans OP is an actual banger, Ramuda's verse is the best fight me all you want but you know i'm right Nemu!! uh spoiler chara for anyone new to the anime I guess? Like they spoil her right at the introduction and iirc they didn't really build off her mystery in the first season. Makes her impact here a bit weaker but I'm willing to let it slide since some might not catch it (Post Editing Astro here: I haven't rewatched Rhyme Anima since it finished airing and uh. Nemu definitely was a plot point there lol they dropped it after ep 11 but she was there!) Jyushi my son I love you so much you idiot I love the little stingers for each team that they did for each team, its so cute and gives so much personality The visuals have definitely improved, a big step above the last season in terms of animation i don't see an improvement with story writing though… Pacing is still all over the place and very squished/fast paced makes sense since the cast has grown by a quarter since last season but still makes me sad that there isn't much time given to each character individually I forgot how much I love the localization of Doppomine Okay so Pink hair and Green hair in the flashback are most definitely the two in the white cloaks. Theres just no subtly with this series lmaoooo Nice that they were able to incorporate everyone somehow but too many people means that too many parts to handle I'm getting deja vu, this exact same thing happened last season…. Oh. Its the same guy. Makes sense lmfao Listen bud I have minimal rap experience but that rap was just embarrassing wow. No rhyme or flow, there was only straight passion which i mean props I guess but you suck ass Look at me being so smart and predicting all of these ahead of time without looking at any materials Did Rio just contact Jyuto with his hypmic???? Samatoki have I ever said that I love your for being a bullheaded idiot? bc I do. you're so silly Damn the typography has gotten even better, its just a lot more smooth and the animation too especially during Jiro's part is just so stylish The animation has improved a lot I'm glad it got a little more love compared to last season My guess is that maybe someone from the six divisions will fall under the anger thingy that's going around, something like the stage show. My biggest guess is that they might re-incite the Samatoki and Ichiro conflict again but I hope not. Another guess is that there will be old MCD or Naughty Busters beef which seems more plausible given that this is Sasara and Kuko's anime debut but I guess we'll wait and see THE OUTFITS!!! THE STUPID OUTFITS I LOVE THEM the art style of the ED is super pop punk and has a strong sense of style which i love. its simple but stands out really well which i love Very jjk but more toned down. Feels a bit like a cleaned up croquis drawings the smear frames is just so stylish and good, very simple and a bit messy and sells the gesture drawing kind of feel of the ED Ramuda's parrot costume i love you Those hand signs just make the first letter of each word which is really fun. Not proper JSL though I guess beggars can't be choosers esp for a series like this

Overall, a really strong start. It shows how it built off the first season and where it improved and while some things (like the horrid pacing) never change, at the end of the day its still a fun and delightful watch

If anyone wanted to read my thoughts on the first season, they're all archived here

[chickenscratchjournal]

What can a journal be?

this is two things, one is me saying an answer and hopefully the second is some other folks saying other answers.

I want to start with I have been writing in a physical journal again. I am often no at my computer and I really do hate writing on my phone. I would much rather carry around a little notebook and a pen. So, that is what I am doing. I tried doing a google doc table situation, but I found it hard to stay motivated to fill in all the boxes, sometimes I didn't have anything to say, or any energy to say what I wanted. I think handwriting some notes throughout the day is a lot less daunting than writing a summary at the end. But, for those interested this is the setup I was using.

It was an attempt at simple checking in on when, what concrete things happened, what my body was feeling and how I cared for it, my feelings that popped up throughout the day, and some final thoughts on it all. But, as you might have picked up in that description, not so simple. Also, yes, I did make the google doc page purple.

So, I am back to pen and paper. My pen of choice is currently a blue Pilot G-2 07. This is my mom's favorite pen to use and I have definitely inherited that opinion.

While prepping for therapy on Tuesday, I took some notes to bring in. I made a list of questions for myself and her, I condensed that list into general points: body, vampires, Names of People, serial dumper, over sharing, fear, french accent, shame, etc. I then took those a drew out a mind map, tying together the ways these events/ideas/people were connected to my feelings. It was really helpful to have already mapped out where I wanted to go before going into the 50mins.

I also transcribed some of my work that I had previously typed up. So, while working on my ptsd and trauma this year, I am also writing a novel about vampires. I wrote a head to toe about the vampire's body according to the lore I decided would appear in my book. I then wrote next to it a head to toe of my body. I looked at how I wrote about monsters and myself, and I didn't love the comparison.

While in the session proper, we talked about a lot of things that I won't go into detail about here. But, my therapist brought up a really important point about abuse and grief. She asked me if I was ever mad at my abuser. She noticed that every time I told her details of the abuse I framed it with my own shortcomings. Now, I have been in therapy for almost eight years, and four of those were during and after my abuse, so I knew it wasn't my fault. I had been a variety of feelings about it in the past four years, but in all my notes and all my metaphors, I never was mad at my abuser in isolation, it always came with anger at myself.

So, I took another approach, an epistolary approach! I wrote a letter to never be sent. Pen to paper, I wrote my "sorry's" and my "I don't forgive you's" and I wrote just a page, nothing too detailed or long winded, just a page of the things I would say if it wasn't an absolutely terrible idea to open communication again.

So, a journal can be a google doc table, a page of scribbled questions, a mind map, a list of metaphors, a blazon of a vampire, a letter to never be sent, and it can be a tumblr post.

I won't share photos of my journal here because their are a lot of details I don't need to share with a bunch of strangers, but despite having all these grand ideas about journaling, I have terrible, messy, big, uneven, ever changing, and smeared handwriting. And no matter what people say, or what I think in the back of my head about it. I am very proud to write down my experiences, because I am important. I am a person and even if I have bad handwriting I deserve to tell my story and to use writing to heal. If I ever write a page that isn't too personal I will definitely share it so we can all look at some journaling that isn't perfect and enjoy it together.

But, until then, thank you for reading and I hope to hear about what else a journal can be.

- El <3

[lencredove]

🕊ㅤㅤ⁺ㅤㅤ"cause it's not that simple, sweetmitch." poor boy, so sweet indeed, and she can't even give his suggestions proper answers. "it's not anything for certain, nothin' written in stone. it's just what i think." that she'll disappear like her mama and lucy gray baird did. "i'm sorry," saying apologetically for getting him upset, hand extends and thumb smears the tear away from his cheek. "sometimes i'm just paranoid, don't take it to heart like that," backtracking on her words because they both can't end up weak and crying. genuinely, she feels bad too, for moving him to the point of tears in the middle of her breakdown. now it's her turn to be strong. "i don't want to hold you back. won't that be holdin' you back?" making him waste his time taking care of her in that arena... she'll think of something, maybe a will to survive no matter how futile it might seem with president snow on her back so she doesn't risk him losing his life.

"course not, but when it comes down to it you'll still want to try to survive." even if he won't be going in as some cold blooded murdered like the careers. it's her fault she put him in here in the first place. fingers card through his locks while he holds her tight, she doesn't deserve this sweet boy. then there's a silence for a long minute after he's asked her about snow... her mind battling on what to tell him. "i don't know," the girl lies, doe eyes staring back at him when his hands frame her face, hard to look him in the eye when she lies but she tries, "he's been watching us. probably ever since i got noisy with the peacekeepers." skirting around the truth of her little rebellion with the orange paint she's been keeping from him. "that's probably all it takes to get a rise out of him."

“why don’t you explain it me,  then?   tell it to me like i’m ten again,  tell me ‘bout this curse and maybe we’ll find a way to break or reverse it,”   he softly pleads,  hot tears licking at his lower lashes,  clouding his vision.   he didn’t cry on the reaping day,  didn’t cry in front of president snow at the heavensbee mansion,  but now that they’re alone in the dark,  he can feel himself slowly crumbling to dust,  carefully crafted facade falling to pieces.   “just talk to me.”   he ends up closing his eyes and burying his face in her auburn curls,  hiding his fears.   he wants to be strong,  give his girl a sense of stability in these uncertain times,  make her believe he’s got it all under control to keep her from worrying even more,  but deep down his stomach’s roiling.   a storm of emotions brewing and he doesn’t know how to stop it.   it must be part of her culture,  he thinks,  this belief in curses and spells and superstition in general,  which is one more reason why he wants to be respectful and not say anything harsh or judgmental.   “let’s say you’re right about this,”   he sighs,  abandoning his own narrative to better understand where she’s coming from,   “don’t curses have to be cast?   like spells?   who could ever wish this on you?”   is she just meant to die young?   is that the curse?   a shiver races down his spine,  a fresh wave of tears spilling over his cheeks.   he doesn’t know how,  but he won’t let that happen.  

feeling lenore dove’s slender arms coil around his neck,  haymitch breathes a sigh of relief and brings her closer,  squeezing her smaller body,  his hands rubbing her back,  smoothing her hair.   he melts into her,  like wax too near to a flame,  body molding so that they fit together like two puzzle pieces.   “if you freeze up,  i’ll carry you.   we’re a team.   you’re the love of my life,  i’ll take care of you,”   he says quietly,  as though it was so simple and he could just scoop her up into his arms and bring her to safety.   the kiss to his cheekbone sets his skin on fire,  his chest tightening even more painfully.   hand cradling the back of her head,  he returns the sweet act of affection and kisses the shell of her ear.   “holdin’ me back?   right,  ‘cause if it wasn’t for you,  i’d be choppin’ off heads left and right,  ‘course i would…”   he sighs,  shaking his head and trying to show her how ridiculous her claim is.   frowning as he pulls back,  hands framing her face,   “why do you say that?”   he has his own reasons to believe the games will most likely be rigged,  they already have been rigged and that’s why she’s here,  but then something else crosses his mind and although it sounds ridiculous,  he hears himself asking,   “how does he know so much about you?”   snow.   but he refuses to say the name,  the hairs on the back of his neck standing up at the mere recollection of that disgusting,  blood-curdling encounter.   he’s the president of panem and she’s just a district girl,  it sounds ridiculous but bet i know a thing or two about your dove…   how?   why?

[ex0rin]

Whumpcember 2022 - Day3 (NSFW)

@whumpcember Day 3: Storm accidental part 2 to Day 1: Hypothermia winterbones - 1700 Words Brock Rumlow, The Winter Soldier, Jack Rollins noncon, reverse winterbones (brief), some whump for Rumlow, some whump for the soldier, cock stepping, boot stepping, violence, masturbation, me just mentioning a storm a handful of times that totally counts right

Rumlow wakes to the sound of wind whistling through the small cracks in the window frame and the absolute white-out of the winter storm still raging outside of the safehouse. 

He also wakes to the heat and throbbing push of the soldier behind him, cock hard and wedged up between the crack of Rumlow’s ass - there’s soft panting along the back of his ear; the soldier’s metal, body warmed arm is still wrapped around his chest, holding him so tightly against the soldier’s body that Rumlow can feel where the bruise is already forming beneath his skin. 

“Soldat,” he says - he tries to be firm with it but the word comes out strained from his parched throat; the man at his back doesn’t stop the way he’s moving, shifting in short, rough thrusts that nudge the head of his cock up against the small of Rumlow’s back and he’s at least a little grateful for their positioning, he’d be a whole lot more pissed if the soldier was shoving inside of him. 

“Soldat,” Rumlow repeats, harsher this time - his sleep and cold fogged, barely conscious mind struggling for the right word in Russian, “ostanavlivat'sya” he manages, but it’s slurred, all blurred together and barely a word let alone the proper pronunciation for it to dig into the soldier’s brain, “stop.” he says again, in English. 

He brings his hand up, fingers that have only just started to regain feeling shift to wrap around the solid metal of the soldier’s wrist; he struggles uselessly, overpowered even while the other man is so clearly not awake - there’s a slight hitch in the breath along his ear, the warm, wet slide of precome dragging lines along his lower back and he shudders, tilting his hips forward to stop the feeling of it. 

The soldier shuffles forward instinctively, pushing back in with his arm squeezing even harder around Rumlow’s chest; Rumlow curses under his breath, his own stupid, traitorous cock flooding to near full hardness when all the shifting between them causes the soldier’s cock to glance up along Rumlow’s clenching hole. 

“Soldier. Stop.” he grits out, molars locked down and grinding through the words. 

Another rough breath from behind him, a warm smear of more precome - this time it smudges over his hole while the soldier’s other hand finds his hip to tug him back even further, easily ignoring the way Rumlow twists away from the touch; he’s flushed and vulnerable and maybe he wouldn’t hate this so much if the soldier was following his orders and not half-asleep and using Rumlow’s body like his own personal – 

The door to the room swings open and Rumlow almost wishes he was looking away when Rollins steps through - there’s half a second where his second in command just looks at him before Rumlow can shutter whatever his expression is doing and then Rollins is moving, crossing the room and striding past the bed to grab the soldier out from behind him. 

He hears the slight fight behind him, the arm around his chest swinging out and suddenly stopping - he turns in the sheets with enough time to watch the soldier stop his reflexive punch barely a breath away from Rollins cheek; the soldier’s eyes are wide, immediately terrified as he looks between Rumlow and his second. 

“Nyet, no, no,” the soldier begs, sleep-confused and panicked. 

Rollins has a hand wrapped into a fist in the soldier’s hair as he drags the other man from the bed and off onto the floor and Rumlow shifts, pulling himself up to lean back against the headboard with the blankets still curled around him.

“What did I fucking say?” Rollins says, wrenching the soldier’s head back before throwing him towards the ground - the soldier doesn’t bother bracing, those instincts already beaten out of him; he hits the floor, only turning his head to stop his nose from cracking down along the floorboards.

“What. Did. I. Fucking. Say?” Rollins repeats, stepping closer to land a solid kick to the inside of the soldier’s thigh - it spreads the other man out on the ground with his legs spread wide and still-solid cock standing heavy and tell between his thighs; Rumlow watches his second move between the part of legs to press the full weight of his boot down along the soldier’s cock, forcing it down along his stomach. 

“Keep my arm off of him,” the soldier says. 

“And?” Rollins asks immediately, refusing to give the soldier any time to do anything other than glance Rumlow’s way - those silver-blue eyes begging for his handler to step in; Rollins grinds his heel down against the base of the soldier’s cock until the other man has to bite back a pained sob with tears beading along his long eyelashes.

Even if Rumlow was back to capacity after that shitshow of a mission and the blizzard and the hypothermia he still wouldn’t stop Rollins from doing what needs to be done, he never has before, besides, his soldier failed already once outside and despite Rumlow only having the vaguest of memories from getting back to the safehouse it’s clear that he’d been given specific instructions from Rollins. 

“Look at me,” his second starts, snapping his fingers in front of the soldier’s face to get his attention - he slaps the other man as soon as the soldier looks up, cracking him along the jaw and cheek with the back of his hand; he leans forward, pressing his weight purposefully down, “what else?” 

“You’re gonna make it worse babe,” Rumlow says, words still a little slurred. 

He watches the way Rollins hits the soldier again and shifts beneath all the sheets that are still piled on top of his lap - his cock had flagged once the heat of the soldier’s body had been pulled away from behind him but there’s always been something about watching Rollins work that gets the blood pumping again, especially with the way he constantly manages to make the soldier’s cheek bruise so nicely with each new slap to the face. 

“Commander, I–” 

“You’re not talking to him,” Rollins reminds him, his boot twisting down hard enough that a normal man might have passed out from the pain grinding in against his cock but Rumlow’s soldier grunts through it, still hard with his cockhead leaking along the thick treads - Rumlow shifts his hand down to find his cock under the blankets and circles the heavy base with loosened fingers as Rollins repeats, “what did I fucking say?” 

Rumlow’s uncoordinated - his body still coming back to him after the shock of nearly freezing to death out in the wilderness but his cock doesn’t seem to mind the laziness of his strokes, not with the way his length throbs up along his palm like it’s not gonna take him long to get there at all; he can still feel the smear of the soldier’s precome between his cheeks with more drying at the base of his spine and his hole clenches on nothing from even thinking about it. 

The soldier whines from the floor, his mouth open on a hitched cry - his face is flushed from pain or just being turned on from the violence Rollins keeps inflicting down along his cock, “Keep my,” the soldier starts, stops, gasps through another sob, “keep my dick off him too,” he finally manages and Rumlow’s own cock twitches in his grip.

There’s a groan at the back of his throat at how quickly Rollins steps back just to brutally kick the inside of the soldier’s thigh again; it’s close enough to the juncture of his legs this time that the other man yelps and physically stops himself from locking his thighs together and protecting his cock and sensitive balls by reaching down to grasp just beneath his knees with both hands, pulling them open for Rollins instead. 

Rumlow’s cock pulses, leaking over his knuckles at how exposed his soldier makes himself - still hard, still waiting for whatever punishment Rollins feels like dishing out. 

“You left your Commander out in this fucking storm,” Rollins says, far angrier than Rumlow’s seen him in a long while - he pauses to kick a little closer to where the soldier is spread open, digging the hard steel-toe of his boot into the other thigh, “you failed the mission,” another kick, harder this time, “you disobeyed orders,” he nearly growls, reaching forward to fist his gloved-hand back into the soldier’s hair. 

Rollins wrenches him forward, dragging the soldier up to his knees and shoving him towards the edge of the bed - the tears in the soldier’s eyes have spilled down his bruised cheeks and he’s sniffing through the snot in his nose; Rumlow’s hard cock jerks in his hand again and he has to grip the base to slow the quick rise of his orgasm when Rollins pulls the soldier’s head back so that the other man is forced to make eye contact with Rumlow, “apologize for it.”

“Sorry,” the soldier starts, his voice wrecked; there’s the soft, desperate pleading behind even that single apology and it drags a low groan up from down in Rumlow’s throat - he loosens his fist to stroke up to the tip of his cockhead, dragging his thumb through the wet mess there and shuddering through the way his cock pulses and spills over his hand at the next whispered words, “I’m sorry Commander, I didn’t –”

“I didn’t say explain,” Rollins says; he catches Rumlow’s half-lidded look just in time to raise an eyebrow, rolling his eyes before he tangles his hand up even more roughly into the soldier’s hair and pulls, dragging the other man towards the door, “let’s see how you fucking like the cold.” 

Rumlow watches the way the soldier goes, shifting as best he can to turn onto his bare knees no matter how much it hurts - he leverages himself forward, pushing with his toes to minimize the damage he takes; Rumlow listens to the sound of the soldier’s body getting further away, through the hall and back towards the main door. 

He hears it open, hears the noise of the soldier being shoved out into the raging storm before the door is slammed shut.

[comicaurora]

Youth gymnast and former black belt in TKD here- I've always really liked how the movements in your action are very identifiable and make sense as an overall flow. I remember looking at Kendal's Falst takedown and thinking it was very close to some of the mid level self-defense series I did. Something I've found interesting in body drawing is that balance between making your art anatomical, making your art LOOK not weird, AND conveying intensity of movement, because the body is really quite a lot more flexy than anyone might think. At least for me (who actually might have a connective tissue disorder but no one's sure :x) I'm very twisty but sometimes it's hard not to look at literal actually tracings of my body's skeletal form and be like "hm... that looks Wrong actually." And with the martial arts portions, I know how much is proper for a body to extend even for a bendy person like me, but it often doesn't actually give that movement impact because usually that real full body level is BAD. So sometimes you get a mess of joints that look dislocated bc you had to frame to show the limb or moves that just logically are unfeasible or stupid.

Which actually brings me to Spy x Family again (sorry) because I've really been in love studying how the mangaka does Yor's extremely powerful movements by giving her body that almost smear frame effect and ending up with INCREDIBLE panels. It's something very much helped by the black and white, fairly line-emphasis style, but it's really really cool to me how impactful they are, especially putting it next to the anime aka ACTUAL MOVING MEDIUM and seeing the translation

Yeah! One of the hardest things about drawing good action poses is you have to start by learning to draw how they realistically LOOK, and then you have to learn to draw how they FEEL so they'll actually look right. A still frame from a video of a movement won't communicate the movement overall. A realistically extended punch won't look as powerful as a fully overextended one that'd in real life endanger the limb. A fully plausible and realistic stance can look awkward and confusing, details obscured by the position of its own limbs or body, while a technically impossible pose can look dynamic and strong. Art involves abstraction; physical training and an understanding of your body in motion can help you narrow in how and where to abstract to get the effect you need.

[strawbabysimp]

Faking Beauty || Dom!Hisoka x Reader

Genre: Smut

Category: Dom!Hisoka x Fem!Sub!Reader

Warning(s): Blowjobs, Cum Play, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Grinding, Pet Names, Rough Sex, Somnophilia, Unsafe Sex

A/N: Decided to dust off Dom!Hisoka and release him out into the world

“Y/N~ I’m homeeeeee”

Hisoka walked through the entrance of your shared bedroom, quickly spotting your sleeping form under the covers. He made note of the way one of his crop tops gripped your curves, barely covering your breasts that seemed to perk up just a bit more at the sound of his voice. He didn’t let the slight potential movement disrupt his current course of action, taking another quick moment to bask in your appearance. You always seemed to calm him down, or excite him even more, there was never a dull moment with the two of you.

His eyes drifted over your body, a small sigh leaving his mouth along with some of the tension he was oh so aware of. He always tended to get a bit riled up after fights, never feeling he had been able to release enough of his bloodlust on his opponents, which was all the more reason to take it out on you in other more life-friendly ways, as he liked to describe it.

Hisoka quickly undressed, preferring to sleep completely bare, which you were never one to complain about. He peeled the covers away from your body and snuggled up behind you, curling his form to accommodate your smaller frame. He couldn’t help but let out a small moan at the sweet contact, trying his hardest not to wake you - it would spoil his fun.

You shifted slightly, gripping firmer onto the pillow that rested in between your arms, a small hum of contentment forming in your throat. That little sound was all the encouragement Hisoka needed to go forward with his plans. His perfectly sharpened nails grazed over your hip, settling firmly onto the soft skin, pressing you firmer against him while he began to move leisurely against your ass. His nose grazed the side of your neck, nuzzling just underneath your ear as his breathing intensified.

You could feel the small smile that played on his lips as his mouth opened slightly in a breathy moan. "You're such a good little thing for me, even when sleeping," he spoke in a low whisper, finishing his sentence with a mirage of kisses before biting down gently on your lobe. You arched into the touch without a second thought, causing him to tear his lips away from the weak spot.

"And what are you doing little one?" He growled gaining an even harsher hold on your hips. You could feel the way his claws threatened to puncture through your skin and how his hands were slightly colder than your own body creating a cooling sensation in the same area he held a painful grip on. 

His thrusts began picking up their pace, it was no longer relaxed rocking but rather harsh grinding against your backside. "You're so cute when you pretend you aren't desperate for me," he said licking a stripe up the base of your throat, curling slightly over you," I know you're awake. There's no need for all these silly little games of yours now pet."

You allowed your eyes to crack open and meet his glowing ones. The small smile on his lips morphed into a cruel smirk, typically reserved for his victims, which in this situation I guess you were. Though, a willing one at that.

"C'mon now love," he said, voice filled with deceitful sweetness. He had quickly removed himself from behind you despite his noticeable hindrance and snuck your hand into his palm. "I said come on." He still chose to speak in a light airy tone yet the force in which he used to pull you up with him was nothing of the sort. You wouldn't have been able to stop yourself from moving along with his insistent hand even if you tried.

Right before you managed to be yanked fully off the bed Hisoka paused, allowing you a small moment to ready yourself for the next forceful jerk. This time it led you to the floor, staring up at the man in front of you. Your fear lessened at the knowledge that he was still far in control of himself. You trusted Hisoka -- to an extent -- but you still felt more secure when there was noticeable conscious thought into his next course of action.

He tapped lightly on your lips. "Open on up now pet." His eyes shined down on you uncannily. You remained looking up at him, positioned painfully on your knees, as his fingers found their way into your mouth, using their newfound position to pry your lips open wider. His naked form hardly surprised you but you couldn't help but feel intimidated as his arousal laid fully on display.

The two digits dipped in and out of your mouth, sliding smoothly along your tongue as you sucked lightly on the welcome intrusion. A few more seconds passed as he continued to watch them sink deeper and deeper. Finally, he finished, but not before shoving them harshly to the back of your throat -- mindful to yank them back quickly so as not to cut up the inside of your throat with the sharpened points.

Tears gathered in your eyes as he traced the lining of your open lips. His finger left your skin-tone sensitive head of his cock, throbbing painfully as precum gathered at the tip. He gave himself a few measured pumps before setting himself softly on your laid-out tongue. He slid in slowly, ignoring your wanting stare in turn of gazing hungrily at his slowly disappearing length.

His pace didn't remain slow for long, plunging the last couple inches in rapidly. A groan left his lips at the sudden sensation encasing his cock, head tilted back as he breathed out shakily. His smile brightened as he spotted the drool leaking from your mouth as he pulled out at a slow pace only to slam back in harshly.

“Who’s the dumb one now? Drooling over the nearest cock like a little fucking whore? I wonder if you’re still asleep, so desperate for dick that you dream about taking me into that slutty throat of yours.”

“Mhmm.” You moaned at his words, eyes watering with soon-to-be-shed tears as his member roughly hit the back of your throat. His nails dug surprisingly light into your scalp compared to the force he used to hold you against him.

He didn’t seem to be satisfied with your response though because less than a second later he grabbed a hold of the back of your hair, roughly pulling you off of him. A thin strand of spit connecting the two of you broke and his gaze darkened even further as he watched it snap back to your thoroughly fucked lips.

The magician stepped leisurely towards you, you could see the small smile adorning his face, expression clashing enticingly with the firm grasp he gained on your chin, forcing your eyes up to meet his before allowing his thumb to replace his cock’s previous spot in your mouth. He roughly massaged the muscle found there, smearing his precum around, before making a tsk sound as he shoved your face away once again.

“I said,” the aura surrounding his frame filled with a concerning amount of bloodlust, “who’s the dumb one now? Or are you stupid and deaf?” In these moments you didn’t see your protective and playful boyfriend, but rather the blood-thirsty hunter he had earned himself the title as. You knew better than to even worry about your safety at times like these, even if you did run, he’d always catch you. Not that you’d ever want to. The fun that ensued was always worth the risk.

His eyes glared down at you, the gold of his iris taking on a cold intensity, but you could see the waves of lust hidden behind the cruel exterior, or perhaps they were intertwined; two sides of the same coin as the man liked to say.

You left his question unanswered, so out of it at the moment that you couldn’t form a proper response by the time he sat himself down on the edge of the bed. His eyes glanced down at your form as he silently beckoned you over, using his middle and ring finger in a lewd gesture.

You silently made your way to him and made to sit down, straddling his thighs. Just as you began to graze his noticeably hard length he lifted you by your hips, turning himself around so you both were higher up on the bed, him hovering above the spot in between your legs.

Pulling down the thin piece of fabric covering the spot between your legs, Hisoka maintained eye contact with you, smiling softly.

He used his position to his advantage, staring obscenely at the layer of juices coating your inner thighs despite the thin lace covering your most sensitive spots. “Such an impatient little thing. Are you that desperate my dear?” The rhetorical question had you clenching around nothing, your boyfriend must have noticed because a soft laugh sounded between the two of you. “I knew it. You can’t hide anything from my pet, your pussy’s too honest for all that.”

As a wet sensation hit your stomach, your gaze was easily drawn down to his arousal. A fresh feeling of wetness soaked your core at how he allowed it to leak down onto you unabashedly. You were tempted to make a comment about which one of you was the desperate one here but the thought quickly left your mind as he placed his mouth gently onto yours. Keeping a slow pace, allowing his tongue to slip between your lips,  you didn't even fight as he took control of the kiss.

His movements quickly became rougher before he stopped altogether, tugging your bottom lip as he pulled away. “You were so cruel to me little fruit,” he whined fake-hurt, “lying so easily to me. Who’s the transmuter here darling?” You whined at his words, you knew he wasn't hurt but that didn't stop his words from affecting you.

"I didn't want to ruin your fun," you explained in a small voice.

"You thought it was fun to make a fool of me? To lie to me? What ever have I done to deserve such treatment?" 

You felt the teasing hum against your throat as he dipped his head to your neck, effectively pressed his chest to yours. The magician chuckled against your collarbone, lowering the rest of his body to connect with yours, his cock resting firmly against your lower stomach. You could feel how it pulsed against you as he moved his hips up and down in smooth languid strokes.

You could feel his teeth graze slowly down your neck, his hands making their way up the shirt to grip harshly at your chest before gripping onto the fabric. A harsh tearing startled you but he still refused to let you up, biting down hard on the junction of your neck and shoulder. The shirt was quickly thrown to the floor as he sucked harshly on the flat expanse of your breastbone.

You saw his hand slip down between the two of you before you felt a small tap at your core. He groaned out lowly as he allowed his tip to slide up and down between your folds, smearing his precum across your hole and clit. You gave him a shaky nod you're not sure he noticed as he slipped into the tight heat. He gave you a few seconds to adjust to intrusion before his hips began to buck. His nails dug into your thighs as he held them up to fit you around his waist.

"Does it hurt, my fruit? Well, lucky for me that's not my problem now, is it? Tighten your legs for me, I'm not done with you just yet. You're taking me whole, just stay still looking all pretty for me. Let me do all the work for my dumb little plaything."

He massaged roughly into your thigh muscles as his movement began to pick up pace. "Aren't you going to say you're sorry," he cooed down at you. His grip hardened and you could tell he would break the skin if he didn't let up his force soon.

"H-Hisoka! I'm sorry," you whined, your eyes struggling to meet his as your body began to arch towards the source of its pleasure. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He chuckled lightly at your whispered chanting, leaning down to give your nose a soft kiss, changing the angle of his thrusts in the process.

"That's all I wanted to hear, darling."

His face fell directly by your ear, he whispered praises against your neck while his hips continued their onslaught. “I think you've made up for your little mistake earlier. I think you deserve to come today, what about you?”

"I t-think I've been good," your voice shook as he hit your sweet spot over and over again. "I think I-I d-deserve to c-come." You cried out as his pace quickened for a final time. His unrelenting movements caused waves of pleasure to run through your body, unable to control the noises that he praised so admiringly.

"You feel so good for me you know that," Hisoka began on a tangent. "You wrap around me so fucking tightly but I can still feel you leaking more and more down my cock as I fuck you. I love it and I know you love it too."

His voice was reduced to no more than harsh grunts and moans usually reserved for his more entertaining fights. He peppered your neck in lightly kisses as you felt the familiar tightening of your core, shakily lightly in your arms as he let out a small chuckle. He maintained his cruel pace as you clenched around his cock, your arms came up to drape over his neck as you rode out your orgasm. You could feel as he began to spill into your heat, carding your fingers through the back of his hair as you held him against you as he used your body to milk his cock.

The magician did nothing but breathe out steadily for a moment before pulling away to detach the two of you. You felt him spill out onto your thigh before falling limp against your neck once again, heavy breathing spread across your pulse point.

"You should have 'woken up' sooner Y/N."

[sophie-frm-mars]

This morning, with the UK ruling trans women not legally women, I saw someone who has publicly called for me to be put in a men's prison having a hit tweet shared around calling the decision by the supreme Court disgusting. The decision by the supreme Court is obviously evil, but I am earnestly baffled that some trans women think you can apply this kind of punitive logic to trans women that you personally deem bad and still fight for a safer world for trans women generally.

This person has never met me, they just saw a callout post about me which framed me as a calculating serial abuser. The truth is that I hurt people. I was doing lots of extreme kink, taking drugs and quite unwell at the time, but the ways that I hurt people were by not checking in during kink scenes, not being present, not going through proper negotiation and discussions around the kink I was doing, and in the most extreme by missing a safeword. I have done everything in my power to make sure I don't hurt anyone again, and I was committed to that from the moment I was told about how I'd been acting, but in a week the people I had hurt talked with my abusive ex who sprained my finger and reached the conclusion without asking anything of me, without making any demands for how I should address anything, that they should explode my life.

As a survivor of multiple different kinds of abuse and sexual harm, I understand how serious my fuckups were, but I also know that there are people acting as irresponsibly as I was all throughout the queer community, and now I am dealing with the news that my country no longer legally recognizes me as a woman, that I might be attacked or worse arrested for using a public bathroom, and I am doing it in isolation from my community because I've been smeared as a predator. I took public responsibility at the time, I did the work, I sent messages taking full responsibility to everyone involved, even to the ex who assaulted me, but now I have to stand up for myself. I've avoided naming names in order to avoid bringing the same kind of social shaming to other vulnerable trans women, and avoided going into the details of what happened to respect their privacy, but that same privacy is used to create vagueness and the room to accuse me of more and more heinous behaviour, to speculate on my motives rather than assume I fucked up, which I did, and in the most disgusting case, to accuse me of trying to deliberately emulate my previous abuser, a lie which I don't think I will ever find it in myself to forgive these people for. They took my own trauma and abuse and used it as a weapon to cut me off from community.

I remain open to talking things out privately with the people involved, as I always have, but I am stating clearly here that I've done what I needed to do to take responsibility and I don't deserve to be exiled forever. Tell people who appear in your DMs and say that you shouldn't have reblogged me that they need to mind their own business. These people are disgusting

So I have this cool thing where basically my childhood was extremely traumatic and often felt like a literal prison and I'm extremely undersocialised but I learned how to act normal enough to survive my childhood but not how to interact with my peers in normal ways really

and it leads to this really cool thing where the dissonance between how confident and together I seem at some points and the mass of trauma and mental illness that is actually going on under the surface leads to people claiming that I'm not mentally ill but instead intentionally and calculatedly manipulative

and at the same time this really really cool thing happened where in almost total isolation from normal friendship interactions by sharing my special interests online I became moderately successful on social media so the people who are most like me who I would have the best chance of being accepted and held by see me as privileged even though I was on benefits when I started my YouTube channel

so now I have this really really really cool thing where people who I thought were my friends or even loved me actually projected immense amounts of their own ideas about who I should be onto me and never really saw me as a person at all and then took my obviously unwell behaviour as an opportunity to explode my entire life and career while also making it even harder for me to ever make friends again on top of all the trauma and the mental illness and being a trans woman

which gets me to the coolest thing which is where I'm just really lonely kind of all the time and I think about the people who used to be my friends and I can't tell if they were ever actually my friends and I want friends really badly but I don't know if it will ever really be safe for me to make friends and sometimes I think my best option would be to just post "hey does anyone wanna be my friend?" on all my main accounts but that's not going to get me stable healthy platonic relationships with people who see me as a person so I guess I just think about dying really a lot of the time by proportion like I really used to like being alive, just for a minute there after coming out and I didn't think about it, and then the first other trans woman I dated assaulted and hit and threatened me, and then I thought I found people who understood me, and then they told me I was monstrous and now I'm here

And I couldn't recommend it tbh

[sweetcathedral]

Note: First Toji story! Your "mom" that I had in mind for this one is basically a female Nanami, and your adoptive mom. Tried my best not to get burnt out from this one, so it might sound a bit rushed and repetitive, but I’ll be taking a two week break after I post Gojo’s sometime this week (hopefully tomorrow or the day after). Enjoy !

⚠️: 18+, raw, bulge, plot (?), voyeurism/exhibitionism (phone), eating out, fingering

It was obvious why Toji was around your mother lately, and why your mother still bothered keeping him around.

“Cut the sweet talking and just say you’re broke again,” you overheard your mother say. There wasn’t any anger or resentment in her voice, she didn’t need any sweet talking for her to lend Toji money again ‘cause she was also someone without any need for attachments. In fact, your mother hated attachments, so her pretend relationship with Toji was perfect. Not only did he fuck her any chance he got, but your mother even asked if he could take you into his place until you found a suitable apartment close to your university (of course he’d be getting paid double the amount for the hassle).

“I don’t have an extra room, so take mine for now. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“You sure? I don’t mind taking the couch instead,” now that you’re finally facing him, you take in the details of his gruff features, hardened by whatever work he does for a living.

“Something wrong?” he cocks his head to the side and rubs his hand at the back of his neck.

“No. Sorry, it’s just—it’s my first time properly seeing you,” you can feel the heat rise up in your body.

“Oh, I guess it is,” he walks up to you and looks down, realizing how big he is and that you’re no longer looking at him from afar. “You’ve changed from the last time I saw you though,” measuring you against him, using his hand to see where your height compares. He smelt of smoke and something metallic, a foreign scent your memory had nothing to contrast to. A dark red smear on his forearm catches your attention. You thoughtlessly brush your fingers on his arm, triggering him to grab your wrist. His eyes widened in a wilderness you’ve never seen before with a hint of panic.

“Um . . .” you didn’t know how to react.

“Sorry,” he clears his throat and collects his composure back, “I’m gonna go take a shower first. Make yourself comfortable.”

The grip around your wrist lightens, leaving a red imprint that’s a bit sore to the touch.

Fuck. Toji had been too caught up with the bounty hunts he took that he forgot you were temporarily moving in with him today. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. It was his calendar app that reminded him, in the middle of a fight with a curse user, that he quickly finished the job and rushed back home to see you already standing at his door. Patiently waiting for him to answer the first few knocks and hesitating to knock again, which he found cute. He didn’t even have time to clean his wounds up when he snuck in through his back window.

Once Toji strode into the bathroom and locked himself in, he took off his shirt, thankful for the black shade concealing the blood slowly oozing out of his wound on the side of his torso. “Tch, for fuck sakes,” he mumbled before cleaning off the excess blood and throwing his shirt in the garbage. He thought his forearm was wounded too, the pain concealed from the rush of adrenaline he still had from running back home, but it was just the blood from his torso.

Toji wasn’t sure how to react when he’d see you again, especially as a proper person, since he has never paid any attention to you back then, until now.

“Take in my daughter until she finds her own place. She’s currently shopping for ones near her university since the other one had a person who died in the building,” your mother told him over the phone, neither sounding like a question or a demand.

“Huh? You have a kid?”

“Are you blind now too?”

“Don’t give much attention to kids.”

“Well she’s an adult now, so how ‘bout it?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Money, of course.”

“Heh, deal,” he answered, not giving much thought to the details as long as he’s getting paid for it.

“Now you’re making it sound like I’m selling my daughter off to the Devil.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.”

“She’ll be coming over in two weeks time,” your mother sighed in relief before hanging up.

Toji pulls himself back to the present hearing the faint scuffling of your feet across the floor, probably carrying your boxes and luggage into the living room. I should help her out. He carefully lifts the towel off his wound to check if the bleeding started to slow down. He lost track of how long he’d been in the bathroom, so he went against the thought of stitching it up and just slapped on some gauze for now. It’d be suspicious if he holed himself in the bathroom for too long. As Toji inhaled his breath to pull himself together, he raised his head, losing his sense of his equilibrium.

“Shit,” he softly chuckles, seeing his blurry reflection in the mirror falling out of the frame and hitting the floor. His body goes limp as his mind slowly succumbs to the darkness, only the sound of your frantic voice through the door being the last to leave his senses.

When you finally busted the door open, Toji was shirtless and laying on the floor drifting in and out of consciousness. You flipped him over to see that he was trying to patch up his wound. “We need to get you to a hospital,” you started dialing 911, but his heavy arm stops you from doing so.

“. . . don’t . . .” he desperately said through ragged breaths before going limp again.

“Fine, but I need to at least get you to your room. I’m not strong enough to carry you,” you try to heave him up to his feet, lugging his arm over your shoulder, opposite from the side where his wound is.

Once you managed to get him in his room, you guided him to his bed before rushing through your boxes to find your medical stitch kit. Although it was hard trying to disinfect his wound before stitching him up and placing a clean gauze over it, you managed to help him dodge the hospital bills he wanted to avoid. Cheapskate, just use the money you get from my mom.

You let out a sigh, tired from the nervousness of moving into a new place shared by a man with a mysterious background, and the panic that ensued when Toji looked like he was knocking on Death’s door. Peering up at him from the side of his bed, you take in his other scars along his body; there’s a jagged one on his chest, a couple clean slits along his shoulder, and some small rigid circular ones scattered over his stomach. You lightly run your fingers over the soft pink flesh like tracing a roadmap of his past life, his scars standing out like checkpoints.

“Home. My father threw me into a . . . fighting pit,” the rough vibration of his voice startles you, breaking you from your trance.

“Sorry, I—!” you pull away, retracting your hand back. But instead Toji grabs it back, unfurling your fingers to place them back on his scar.

“Also home. A fight with my cousins . . .” he continues guiding your fingers throughout his body, dragging you from scar to scar and telling you the story of his past, like there was nothing to hide. “And finally,” he gently places your palm on his fresh wound, “. . . another bounty hunt . . .” There was a moment of hesitation in his voice, his eyes laid on your hand as he thumbs over your knuckles, twiddling with your fingers before firmly yanking you over him onto the bed.

His finger traces up the curve of your spine, the small of your back, feeling the bulge form under his joggers—nudging at the plump bulb of your cunt through the thin fabric of your satin shorts. Keeping yourself calm and collected, you push yourself up from his shoulders, his muscles tensing up from your touch.

“Toji, I don’t have money to pay you. The medical courses in university are expensive already.”

“Who said I was asking for money?” he traces down your neck with his eyes before bringing you towards him, rubbing a lock of your hair between his thumb and index finger as he kisses your neck.

“You’re hurt and acting delirious from the pain. I’ll look through my boxes to see if I still have painkillers,” you huffed, trying to fight through his strength and the aching need to continue to see through to the end. It felt wrong, but his desperate hands kept you from making the right decisions.

“Don’t leave, stay,” he whispered between kisses, now trailing down to your breasts, sucking at your nipples. The straps of your tank top and bralette slip from your shoulders as his fingers softly drag down your back, your garments now clinging to your waist. Your soft moans bounce off the walls of the room. Your fingers laced through his hair, continuing to tease your nipples and thoughtlessly riding your hips on his bulge, leaving a wet stain through your shorts and his joggers. A wave of shame clashes over your need to have more of him, but the movements of his hands, arm, tongue, body keeps you from turning back.

“I can’t take it anymore,” you moaned through huffs of breaths.

“Then, what are you waiting for? Do it. I’m right there,” he valiantly bucks his hips up, pressing his erection into your pliant cunt, holding your thighs down on either side of him.

Your fingers reach for his cock from under you, molding around the shape of him as you push his joggers further down his hips. There was already precum dripping down his cock, painfully pulsating at your soft touch. You hold the tip at your entrance, glossy and slippery from your eager juices, and slowly ease yourself onto his cock. Toji groans at your plump walls hugging him and pulling him deeper inside of you. Your body blooms into a lustful behaviour that even he was surprised in awe at the honesty, forming a bemused grin across his face.

When your hips started to tremble beyond control, Toji continued, propping himself up with his arms and careful not to bust the stitches you gave him. At this point his pain had melted into pleasure, gratefully thrusting into your cervix and feeling the satisfaction of the shape of his tip protruding from your lower abdomen. You wrap your arms around him, spreading your legs wider so as to not touch his wound.

“Ngh, I think I’m about to pass out,” you bit back a moan, struggling to keep from cramping.

“Heh, that’s cute,” he rammed himself harder into you, the sound of slapping intertwining with your moans & grunts. Your body twitches in intervals, keeping up with his rhythm, nearing your climax. Toji grasps onto you, clamping you down on him as his warm cum fills up your womb, unable to keep the excess from flowing out.

“Shit, sorry,” he reaches down to touch your vulva, the tips of his fingers feeling at his thick substance leaking out from you..

“Mm-mm, it’s fine. Infertile,” you said, trying to catch your breath.

“Did you cum yet?”

A giggle fell from your lips, “not yet—!” he flips you over before you could finish whatever you were about to say, switching places so that you’re laying on your back now. He wasn’t gonna take that for an answer cause he always finishes what he started.

“Allow me,” his head settled in between your legs, hands firmly placed at the back of your thighs. You sharply inhaled at the soft velvety feel of his tongue to your sensitive clit, and the strong feeling of his fingers pushing through your swollen walls. Your head falls back into a lustful daze, allowing him to do whatever he wants to do to you. Only the sound of your rapid breathing and cute moans fill the air of the room, as Toji satisfies himself with your lewd expressions and lolled out tongue.

“Did you make it safely to Toji’s place?” your mom asks through the phone.

“Yeah . . . everything, went well,” you bit your tongue, flailing your hands behind you to try and get Toji to slow down.

“Are you okay? You sound too out of breath in the morning.”

“Yeah—! I just, just came back for a—jog,” he thrusts harder into you, having fun watching you try to keep your composure. Ready to hear a moan slip out from your wet lips. “Anyways, I need to, to go, bye mom!” you hung up before she could say her goodbyes.

“Someone held up pretty well,” he chuckles at the nape of your neck before leaving his marks along it.

“Fuck you,” you pant, hating yourself for obliging in this situation, but loving the hard feeling of his cock splitting you apart. He hooks one of your legs up to the kitchen counter, your other fighting to stay on its tippy toes as you reach your morning climax—squirting on the kitchen floor.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he growls in your ear, flipping you over and stirring his cock back inside of you. “Get ready to go rounds with me.”