#i just want to hold onto these moments forever

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

with a hand on the back of your head and another holding your throat, nanami curses under his breath, the sight of you gagging around his cock so filthy that the usually composed man has his knees threatening to buckle from underneath him. 

sweat trickles from the side of his face and there’s a deep shade of blush spread across his nose and cheeks, hiding the freckles you love so much. even the tips of his ears burn, the pleasure blooming everywhere under his skin as he rocks his hips against your face. the first buttons of his dress shirt are undone, a few hickeys already starting to darken on his skin from you nipping at him before dropping to your knees. he’s been working so very hard, and you just want him to let off a little steam – he just needs a bit of a push sometimes. 

so with you sat on his lap, sucking on his earlobe while pleading for him to take a break, it was impossible for him to say no. how could he when he’s got an angel in his arms, playing with his hair and kissing his neck ever so sweetly – he’s a weaker man than he thinks. 

when you slithered down between his thighs and stared up at him with big, hungry eyes, he found himself loosening his tie, his mind already beginning to cloud with the nastiest thoughts. 

ghosting your fingers over the growing bulge in his slacks, you rested your head against his thigh with a mischievous smile etched onto your lips. “c’mon, ken… i want to make you feel good.”

your words come out as a purr, as a siren’s call – you always have been a little tease, always the one to make him break and crumble. 

so here he finds himself now – slacks pooling around his ankles and the hem of his shirt caught between his teeth, trying his utmost best not to fill your mouth with cum after the first ten minutes like some damn teenager. his hair is a fucking mess, dusty blonde strands falling over his forehead no matter how many times he tries to push them back. he’s given up on it now, realizing that there are better things to be doing with his hands – the one on the back of your head, protects you from knocking against the wooden cupboard while the other rests on your neck, marveling the way his cock slides up and down your throat. 

it’s mesmerizing, the feeling of the bulge under the palm of his shaky hand. he’s in there, filling you up like nothing else and it’s the hottest fucking thing in the world. 

his pace is slow and steady, every roll of his hips has your nose nuzzling into his pubes, your chin pressing against his heavy balls. drool trickles from the corners of your mouth and it’s a sight to behold – it dribbles all the way down onto your thighs and from there on onto the floor and nanami can’t help but feel the coil in his stomach tighten faster than ever. you’re the only one that makes him feel like this, who manages to mold him to your own liking all while being down on your knees. 

the tip of your tongue tickles his balls and the growl he lets out makes you clench your thighs together. his shirt falls from between his teeth and he rushes to undo the rest of the buttons, desperate to get the material off of him, so he can give you his full attention once more. it’s exciting to see him this needy. 

you try to look up at him with him still down your throat and as a reward, he moves to stroke your cheek with his thumb. “you’re– you’re doing so good for me, darling.” 

his voice is raspier than ever and the praise that tumbles from his bitten lips has you moaning around his cock. his vision goes blurry for a moment as the pleasure overwhelms his senses. you’re something else. 

you’re fucking perfect. 

the ache in your knees fades in your mind as you get to watch him unravel above you. his strokes become more languid; he pulls out only a little before pushing back in, his tip reaching deeper and deeper with every thrust he makes. he wants to stay inside you, he wants to stay there forever. 

squirming below him, you screw your eyes shut and try to focus on your breathing – but as he stays slotted deep down your throat, it’s getting harder and harder and you can’t hold back the few tears that have been brimming at your lashline.

“f–fuck, i’m sorry, sweetheart… i– “

he feels you struggling, but doesn’t pull out even an inch, only grinding his hips into your face as if he was fucking your tight little hole instead. you claw at the backs of his thighs, your nails marking up his sensitive skin as you gag around him. but nanami’s mindful not to go too far, to make sure that he wouldn’t miss the moment your scratching should turn into tapping instead. as much as he’s enjoying himself, he’d rather die than to hurt you.

he waits for your signal but when it doesn’t come, he presses himself even further down your throat, moaning loudly when you gag around him. his blonde pubes stick to your skin, your spit acting as glue between you. 

your mouth is so fucking warm and tight and, fuck– the obscene sounds that fill his ears are making him lose his mind. you feel divine and it has him wondering what ever did he do to deserve a lover like you. 

all it takes is two pats against his thighs and he’s pulling away, his eyes locked onto your face as you gasp for air. crystalline droplets brim in the corners of your eyes and run over the apples of your cheeks, leaving behind salty remainders of your hard work. your lips are swollen and covered in a mixture of his precum and your own spit. trying to catch your breath, you take a moment before looking back up at him. 

the way his lips part in a silent groan the second you make eye-contact, his chest rising and falling as he strokes his fat cock right in front of your face. there’s still a strand of spit connecting the two of you, from your lips to his tip, and nanami wants to hate how big of an effect such a small thing can have on him. it’s romantic. 

you look ruined. 

he thinks you look absolutely fucking beautiful.

leaning down, he presses a fiery kiss to your lips as a thank you, as another form of praise. he loves the way you taste and they way you feel against him. 

you breathe into his mouth. “more…” 

nanami squeezes his fist around his base, another groan falling from him as he pulls away from you. the grin on your face, the hearts in your eyes and the love pooling on your tongue are more than enough to have him taking in a sharp intake of air – you reach out to him, gentle fingers wrapping around his way bigger ones as you guide him back to your mouth. your heavenly lips. 

as embarrassing as it is, it only takes another few minutes for him to cum down your throat with a loud, deep groan. he holds your neck just as before, feeling the way his own cock twitches inside of you as he gives you his all. 

there’s so much of it that despite you swallowing around him a couple of times, it still pours out from the corners of your mouth, turning you into an even bigger mess than before. but it’s not like you mind – this is exactly what you wanted in the first place. he’s panting like a dog above you, face red as a tomato as he bucks his hips into your mouth one last time. 

the sound that leaves his lips as he finally pulls out resembles a whimper and he lets out a sheepish chuckle, a bit flustered that you managed to pull that out of him. but then again…

it is you. 

his beloved, his love – the one who knows him the best, the one who knows what he needs without ever having to ask. you read him like an open book and he couldn't be more grateful. you're more than he could've asked for. hoped for.

and he loves you.

[latin5mamii]

competition

warnings: cuteness (my heart literally melt)

genre:fluff; kylianxfem!reader

summary: Kylian can't stand kitten videos anymore, so what's better than actually gifting you one?

author's note: I’m really going to miss seeing our little croissant play for the next three weeks! It’s just so sad and i want to cry. Every time I watch him on the pitch, I find myself literally ADMIRING him , and honestly, it’s starting to worry me about my mental health...

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩

You’ve been dreaming about adopting a kitten for what feels like forever—weeks of obsessively sending Kylian video after video of fluffy kittens, each with the same unspoken message: “I need one.”

He’s honestly not sure how this kitten craze of yours even started. Maybe it was that time you found a kitty on the street and immediately dropped to your knees, practically begging him to take it home with you. He still remembers the way your face fell when you found out the kitten already had an owner. Ever since then, you’ve been on a mission.

It’s gotten kind of relentless. At first, Kylian thought it was cute, how every few hours you’d send him another kitten clip with heart eyes and a not-so-subtle, “Look at this one! Isn’t it adorable?” But now, it’s reached a point where every time his phone dings, he knows it’s another video of a kitten doing something cute, followed by your predictable "I want one so bad."

The man can only take so much.

And for Kylian, saying no to you is basically impossible. He could ignore the hints for a while, but the way you light up whenever the topic of kittens comes up? Yeah, there’s no way he’s letting this one slide much longer.

“Amour,” Kylian’s deep, playful voice echoes through your temporary apartment as he closes the door behind him. You barely glance up from your phone, lost in yet another kitten video that you’ll definitely be sending him in a few minutes.

But his tone catches your attention. There’s something different in it—something secretive.

“Amour,” he repeats, this time a bit more mischievous. “I have a surprise for you.”

That’s all it takes. Your heart skips a beat, and you scramble to your feet, tossing your phone onto the couch without a second thought. You rush down the hallway toward him, excitement bubbling up inside you.

“Kylian, what is it? What’s going on?” you ask breathlessly, practically bouncing on your toes. You’re not great with surprises, mainly because your curiosity knows no bounds, and Kylian knows that all too well.

He grins, clearly enjoying your impatience. “Patience, chérie,” he teases, holding his hands behind his back. “Close your eyes first.”

You let out an exaggerated groan but obey, squeezing your eyes shut. “You know I hate this, right?”

He chuckles, and you can hear him moving closer. “I know. But you’ll love this.”

There’s a moment of silence, and you feel like you’re going to explode from anticipation. Then, just as you’re about to cheat and peek, you hear it—a tiny, delicate meow.

Your eyes snap open before Kylian can even tell you to, and your breath catches in your throat. In his arms, nestled against his chest, is the most adorable, tiny kitten you’ve ever seen. Its fur is a mix of cream and gray, and its big, round blue eyes blink up at you with curiosity.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, your hands flying to your mouth as you stare in disbelief.

Kylian laughs softly, clearly proud of himself as he watches your reaction. “I couldn’t handle the constant kitten videos anymore,” he teases, shifting the tiny bundle of fur in his arms so you can get a better look. “So I figured I’d just… bring you one.”

You’re speechless, your hands trembling as you reach out to take the kitten from him. It’s so small, so delicate, and it lets out the tiniest purr as soon as it’s nestled in your arms, pressing its little head against your chest. 

“I love you,” you murmur, though you’re not entirely sure whether you’re saying it to Kylian or the kitten. Maybe both.

“I know,” he replies, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “But do you love me more than the kitten?”

You giggle, shaking your head as you hold the kitten closer. “Well, the kitten is pretty cute. You’ve got some competition now.”

He feigns offense, raising an eyebrow as if wounded, but the act doesn’t last long. Watching you tenderly cradle the tiny kitten in your lap, gently stroking its soft fur, his heart can’t help but melt.“So… have you thought of a name yet? Or are you just going to call it ‘kitten’ forever?”

You look down at the tiny fluff ball in your lap. A name? You hadn’t even gotten that far in your daydreams.

“Hm, I don’t know… I kind of like ‘kitten,’” you joke, earning a groan from Kylian. “No, seriously! Look at this face. It’s like pure kitten energy.”

“Amour, we are not calling it ‘kitten,’” Kylian says, though he can’t help but smile.

You tap your chin playfully, as if deep in thought, then look up at Kylian with a soft smile. “I think I need to really take my time with this,” you say, your tone serious but with a hint of teasing. “It’s a big decision, and I don’t want to rush it.”

Kylian raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You’re telling me we need to schedule a whole naming ceremony for this kitten?”

“Obviously,” you reply with a grin, gently stroking the kitten’s fur. “It’s an important choice. I’ll need some time… and maybe a little inspiration.”

Kylian leans in, his voice playful. “Oh? And how do you plan on finding this inspiration, chérie?”

You tilt your head and flash him a warm smile. “By cuddling with my two favorite babies,” you say softly, looking between him and the kitten. “That should give me all the inspiration I need.”

Kylian’s expression softens instantly, his eyes sparkling as he leans in closer, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. “Your two babies, huh?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and affectionate.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, leaning into him as you settle against his chest. “My big baby and my little baby. Both equally important.”As you lean into Kylian’s embrace, you watch the tiny kitten stir slightly before making its way to his stomach. With a delicate hop, it settles right on top of him, curling into a tiny ball, its soft purring almost harmonizing with the rise and fall of Kylian’s breathing.

You can’t help but smile, feeling your heart practically melt at the sight. There’s something about seeing Kylian, this towering, athletic man, with such a delicate creature nestled on his chest that makes the moment even sweeter.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. “Look at her.”

Kylian glances down at the little fluff ball, a small chuckle escaping him. “She’s already making herself at home,” he says softly, his fingers lightly grazing the kitten’s fur. “Can’t say I blame her, though. I’m pretty comfortable, right?”

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩

[destinationtrekk]

young wesker who gets drunk and giggly with reader. at first he had been so... cold, so expressionless and absolutely cluelessly bone-dry on how to go about doing anything but a daylight two-step move-his-arms-a-little to the dance music blaring from somewhere, but that's okay, reader can show him.

and he enjoys it... and he's laughing, and his face is flushed, and the scent of vodka is deep on his tongue, and he has severely miscalculated his drink, but that's okay, because reader keeps him safe and happy and distracted the entire time.

at the end, as he begins to sober up, they can't seem to get out of him where he's supposed to go to now (perhaps he is trying to revel in it, this one normalcy, just one event he took on to learn how to behave like everyone else and got taught more about himself and his own interests than he'd ever planned, a snapshot of a life he could have lived if only--) so they take him back to their house and snuggle him up in a blanket burrito on the couch, making him drink water, take an advil, a tylenol.

and as he gets back to himself and they smoke a cig, talking about life as he gets rather quiet and inward again (for he cannot share, he has nothing positive or appropriate to), they do something unexpected and yet wholly welcome, a gift to close out the night: they give him a quick, brief and fleeting shotgun kiss, hand warm on his cheek, before they send him off for a nap, telling him to stay the night so he'll be well and sober the next day to depart. free breakfast if he's still around by then, otherwise, they take no offense.

he has no way of telling them the truth of this fragile matter. he has no way of divulging his life, which would undoubtedly ruin whatever scrapbook memory he is currently creating, and certainly no way to hold onto this awfully pleasant being who he can, apparently, trust in his total ineptitude with heavy inebriance. and he can't keep seeing them again after this. and his view on how ruthless and manipulative human beings are when faced with vulnerability has been shaken to its' core, and he can't say it, and he wants to, but...

instead he asks them to stay a little while he falls asleep (just one final, little test, he muses to himself), and they oblige. he's laid on the couch, head in their lap, his (admittedly not quite so soft after all the gel has hardened) hair being carded through by soft, ever-eager, sleepy fingers. he will never get a moment like this again and he pushes himself to take it in, revel in every second that passes, commit to absolute memory (no matter what he had earlier in the day) every detail of this sightly, sweetly saint's face.

he ends up falling asleep feeling cherished. he will remember this day forever. years to come he will still have tabs on this person, and their life will still be unexpectedly, oddly lucky.

maybe one day he'll find it in him to thank them properly, face-to-face...

nshtn can i say i love you? because i love you and every time you come in my inbox i get so excited

first and foremost i don't think he even would dance at a party. he very much is the kind of guy to find a spot and linger there with a group he's only half listening to. once he meets you though his night gets much much more interesting

he's never really had chances to drink, except maybe whiskey or something expensive with Spencer during their talks about Umbrella and the future, so when you start handing him all kinds of seltzers and mixed drinks and straight shots of vodka, he is very overwhelmed

he can't show it though! so he dutifully takes most of what you hand him, a few drinks are two sweet for him, and he is very quickly wasted tbh. you're so nice though, and you drag him in the middle of everyone dancing and show him a few easy things and soon enough he's bouncing around with everyone else

every time he starts to think about what's going to happen tomorrow you're immediately there to distract him. it's almost like you can read his mind - you know just the right things to say and how to push people out of the way and he just thinks you're perfect under the flashing lights

finally when it's time to go home, he knows for a fact he can't show up at his place looking messed up as he is - what if Spencer or Birkin or some nameless Umbrella employee saw him and ratted him out? so he takes your offer to go to your house gracefully as he can this drunk

he knows now that you're a party expert, you immediately make him drink water and wash his face and take preemptive tylenol for the hangover. your fleeting kiss and warm hands on his sweaty skin are so sweet he can't bear to think about it longer than he has to. he knows he should leave before you wake up tomorrow and forget this wonderful night ever happened (he'll never forget you, not even on his deathbed)

you give him every courtesy and kindness you can offer and he decides to take just one more, one last sweet touch to take with him into the night. you smile sleepily and open your arms for him to fall into - the blanket covering his shoulders is a little too hot and you both smell like beer and liquor and sweat but your lap is so soft, it makes the ache in his back and shoulders from carrying the world lessen a bit, and your fingers in his hair send him into a beautiful and silent sleep

the next morning it physically pains him to untangle from your body on the couch. he stands and watches you for a moment, his heart clenching and pounding in his chest, until he forces himself out the door before you can feel his absence.

when he meets you again, what feels like a thousand years later, his heart pounds just the same. you recognize him, his twisted dark smirk and deep eyes, and when you smile and say his name he's suddenly twenty-something all over again and dizzy and drunk in your arms - he never wants to leave you again

[thebarontheabyss]

The new version of The Bar on the Abyss 2.0 update is coming soon!

I've finished stocking the Library of Pseudonium with stories, tales, and entries for you to devour, and now I'm moving to overhaul some of the romance scenes in the game.

In the meantime, I thought I'd share one of those entries. See you soon in the Abyss :)

Waiting for You by Albus Gauss

"Did you see the moth, my love?

It was there when we said our goodbyes. I could see you holding back your tears. You had to be strong, I understand. But I wish you hadn’t. I was so weak, and all I wanted was to hold you, to feel your warmth one last time. I longed for your tears to flow freely, to form a river that would carry me away into the unknown, into oblivion.

As you whispered your final words, I saw it in that quiet moment.

A fragile, black-winged creature. It fluttered softly between us, hovering like a silent witness to our parting. It landed on my chest, just above my heart, and in that instant, it whispered something I couldn’t quite hear, or remember. 

The following moments are hard to hold onto—like trying to catch the wind. A blur of sensation and then… seagulls. 

I woke to the sound of the ocean.

An endless beach stretched before me, an ancient town clinging to its shoreline like something plucked from an old memory. Remember our honeymoon in Sanremo? The way the sun seemed to melt into the sea, the scent of salt and warmth in the air? It was just like that, only quieter. Still, Timeless.

The sand beneath me was warm, and the breeze carried not just salt but something else… something eternal, like time itself was holding its breath. The sea shimmered in silver hues, a glow that made it almost alive. I stood up, feeling lighter than I had in years—lighter than I had ever felt in life. The pain that had gripped me for so long was gone, but with it, the weight of myself—of being alive.

It’s strange to explain. You never realize how heavy your existence is until it’s lifted away.

I followed the shoreline, letting my feet sink into the soft sand. And then, near me, I saw it fluttering again—the moth, gently gliding on the warm waves of the sea. And it spoke to me.

So, I’m in a place called Kaitz, an ‘ethereal realm.’ Not Heaven, just… a haven. We talked for a long time, and he told me so much. My mind struggles to comprehend the details, but apparently, this is the afterlife.

I followed him into a small house on the outskirts of the town, overlooking the ocean. It was a simple, quaint place, like something we might’ve stayed in during one of our seaside holidays. The walls were cracked but alive with vines of unfamiliar flowers, their blooms glowing faintly as dusk crept in. There was a feeling of anticipation in the air—like the house had been waiting for me. The moth told me I could stay here if I wanted to. I was so confused, I really should have asked him for how long. Did he mean forever?

I wandered onto the balcony, looking out over the ocean as the sunset bathed everything in gold. The horizon shimmered in a way that I can’t quite describe—like the light was bending, swirling into itself, but never fully disappearing. For a long time, I just stood there on that balcony. This place was beautiful, yet I felt… alone.

The moth—Mavet, it whispered its name—perched beside me on the railing, its wings reflecting the dying light. It didn’t speak again, just hovering for a while until the sun was gone, and so did he.

I couldn’t sleep that night. The stillness was too loud, so I went outside into the town. 

That’s when I heard the music. There was a festival, with fireworks and sky lanterns floating in the skies above us. I’ve never seen clearer skies—whole galaxies stretching and spiraling, and I swear those sky lanterns rising above us were turning into stars as they met the heavens.

The streets were lined with people, all lost in the celebration, their laughter and voices mingling with the music that filled the air. I came here feeling lost and alone, but when I saw the happiness in their eyes and the calmness in their faces… for a brief moment, I also lost myself in that feeling. And it felt so good.

I followed the parade, blending into the river of souls and meeting a group of recently deceased souls like me. They were different from me in every way—one had skin like marble, another glowed faintly as if lit from within—but somehow, we felt acquainted with one another. There was an instant camaraderie, as if we had always known each other, as if we’d met many times before, in some other life. They told me they were from different realms. I had no idea there were other realms besides ours. And yet, here we all were, walking together under a sky that seemed to stretch forever.

We walked through the winding streets, drinking and talking like old friends. They told stories of their lives, and I told them about us. About you.

At some point during the night, as the festival flowed around me, I found myself dancing to rhythm of the celebration. And then it hit me—a wave of emotion that I couldn’t hold back. The freedom of it all. The weightlessness, the sheer absence of pain, of sickness. I cried. Tears of joy. Pure, unfiltered happiness. I hadn’t felt this alive in years, Malcolm. My new friends didn’t say a word, but their hands held mine tighter as if they understood.  

I’m so sorry for being this happy without you, my love. Please forgive me.  

By the time dawn arrived, we found ourselves back on the beach. The festival had faded, and the sky was painted in shades of violet and gold. We sat there, five of us, watching the horizon, waiting for the sun to rise fully. 

When it did, I said goodbye and walked back to the little house on the cliff. The streets were quiet now, the remnants of the festival scattered across the cobblestone roads. It felt strange to be back in that empty house. But for the first time since I passed, I felt the weight of exhaustion settling into my bones.

I fell asleep quickly, and I dreamt of you.

I was lying next to you, in our bed at home. We had just bought that house, remember? We called it our forever home. Funny, isn’t it? How man plans, and the cosmos laughs.

In my dream, I reached over and held your hand, and as I did, I saw your face. You were crying in your sleep, your cheeks soaked with tears. 

I’m glad you finally cried, Malcolm. 

When I woke, I couldn’t shake the feeling of that dream. It felt so real, like I was there with you. But I woke up to an empty bed, and I can imagine you were too. I guess this is our reality from now on. 

My new friends told me about a train that comes through once a day. It drives straight into the ocean, vanishing beneath the waves, and it takes you to other places, other realms. 

They say you can visit all sorts of worlds and find places you never imagined–other afterlives, other paradises. I’m thinking of getting on that train soon, after spending a little more time here.

I want to explore, to see what’s out there. That dream… It gave me a purpose, something to do until we find each other again. I’m going to search for a place for us. A perfect place. A home where we can be together again, after your time has come. 

I will find our forever home.

And until that day comes, Malcolm, I’ll be dreaming of you. 

Here, on the endless shores of Kaitz… or somewhere else, entirely."

[spaceorphan18]

The Lady Whistledown Papers : 1x08 After the Rain (Part 2)

Welcome back, Gentle Readers, to The Lady Whistledown Papers, where I’m taking an in-depth look at Penelope Featherington and Colin Bridgerton’s character arcs and romance within the show Bridgerton!

For previous issues, follow tag : The Lady Whistledown Papers

This is going to be a very musical issue, guys ;)

Boxing Match

So. We're here at this boxing match where Will's going to face an ethical dilemma, Simon's going to be involved, Lord Featherington is going to face some consequences of his actions, and Anthony's going to fuck Siena against a wooden beam in the back.

And Colin... is going to sit and happily chat with Benedict in the background. Apparently, he's not in a moody mood over Marina anymore.

I like the top hats though. There are times when this show veers so far into fantasy that I don't necessarily recognize the 1800s. But the top hats feels very much like 1800s. And I appreciate that.

Well, this scene might not really have anything for me to meta but... I'll bring in a BTS thing...

Apparently, Jonathan Bailey, Luke Thompson, and Luke Newton spent Season 1 harmonizing this little tidbit and it makes me wish that Bridgerton was a musical, because these boys can sing, and this is absolutely delightful. I wish this was better quality and longer.

(Bringing it up here - because I think this was filmed around the time of this boxing match? The costumes look similar.)

Anyway... there should be more singing on this show. Just, there should. That's how I feel about that.

Speaking of more singing...

Family Time

Omg, it took me forever to find this gif.... But I wanted to use a gif here because I wouldn't be able to still Colin because he's moving so much. Anyway...

We've got one of our big family scenes again. And as I've said before, I've always liked these scenes because the family dynamics are always richly on display, and one of the aspects the show does really well. The interplay between all of the different storylines is great here, as each one kind of gets a little nod as they weave in and out of the scene.

So, let's talk about this almost blink-and-you-miss-it Polin moment.

Francesca is back in town, so are Simon and Daphne, and the family is in high spirits (since we're at the end of the season and wrapping this thing all up). And they get Colin to sing in a catchy little tune (which I'll get into in a moment). And, as much as Colin was sulking and in such a bad place in the previous episode, he's bounced back rather well. And while he's not over it (Colin, we're learning, seems to hold onto things -- and the Marina stuff isn't done yet), he's come back from the heartbreak rather quickly.

Which... I think really speaks to the nature of Colin's feelings more than anything -- as they weren't that deep. Do I think Colin cared for Marina? Yes. Do I think he got caught up in a grand fantstical romance? Yes. Do I think he actually loved her? No. Because as his family members mentioned in the previous episode -- he didn't really know Marina. He just liked the idea of her. And those shallower feelings are easier to bounce back from.

So, we have here a Colin who is in better spirits. And the thing that really sticks out to me in this scene is how young Colin looks. He's singing what's essentially a child's play song, like London Bridges or Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. Colin was pushing himself to be An. ADULT. But he's not fully there yet. And I feel like this scene kind of pushes Colin back to where he was at the start of the season. That sweet, charming young kid. Only he's not that anymore. Not really. Experiences do change a person.

Meanwhile, we have Penelope. She comes into this a little hesitantly. She's clearly there for Eloise. This is the first time we really see her in the family dynamic. Even though we don't see it -- it's implied that Penelope is often over there, and feels pretty comfortable being in the Bridgerton drawing room. She grew up there. She and Eloise's friendship formed there. And there she can be around Colin in an appropriate way. It is a home for her.

So, it's interesting that she comes into this room with that hesitancy. She takes a moment to watch Colin while he's singing - and I do believe in this moment she doesn't regret what she's done with Lady Whistledown. Because she's seeing Colin be happy again. Things are back to the way they were. And Colin feels like /her/ Colin again. And, oh, her longing look for him. Her love is always just radiating through her that it can't be contained.

There is also a small, little detail that I absolutely love. As she comes in, he's in the middle of a line, and his voice wavers and catches when he sees her. And I mean, not only does he see her - which is notable in that she's the girl who hides on the sidelines and doesn't get notice. But the sight of her is enough to catch him off guard. There's an unresolved tension there. And the moment acknowledges it, even if it can't address it.

Eloise, oblivious as usual, is going to jump in and steal Penelope away -- she's got news about Lady Whistledown. And the look of pure panic and terror on Pen's face as she worries that Eloise has discovered her secret...

But Eloise isn't there to unmask her, she's there to say that her sluething has brought her to the conclusion that Madame Delacroix is Lady Whistledown.

Penelope has a myriad of emotions that cross her face at this news. She's relieved that Eloise hasn't figured out her secret. But she's grateful that Eloise is on her and her family's side, and that Eloise's intentions are to have Lady Whistledown make a retraction to restore the Featherington name. It's an act of true friendship -- and Pen is so grateful that Eloise is her bff.

But also, there's a little bit of deflation there, too. It's a hard read, but the conversation takes a turn -- Penelope commenting on the fact that it's impressive that Madame Delacroix can run her business and be Lady Whistledown. And I'm not sure if it's out of a twinge of sadness that she can't tell Eloise that she is Lady Whistledown, or the fact that she's concerned that Madame Delacroix might be posing as LW, or just the fact that even if Penelope is rich -- Delacroix being able to live her life freely is a sad reminder that she can't.

Eloise loves the idea that Madame Delacroix can live life as she pleases, and aspires to be like her -- the unmarried and doing her own thing being the biggest appeals. But Penelope admits she can't be like that. She tells Eloise the fact that she has a sister who is a duchess will make it easier for Eloise to do whatever she likes -- including being a working, unmarried woman.

But Penelope isn't like that. Here she blames it on her family, and it's tattered reputation. Eloise can coast on her family's good fortune, but Penelope will always be fighting against her name and placement in society. But what is unsaid, too, is that while Penelope wouldn't mind making her own money (and, in fact, she already is), she does want to be married -- she does want love. And herein lies the comedy/tragedy of Penelope/Eloise friendship -- each has what the other one wants.

Of course, neither of these issues are going to be resolved here, so Eloise does something she doesn't even want to do with her siblings, and shares her chocolates, which brings a grin to Penelope's face. because they are good bffs.

And, of course, the ending moment is punctuated by the end of Colin's song, where he dissolves into a fit of laughter. And I just adore when Colin laughs, because he's such a sweetheart when he does.

But, okay, let's take a second and talk about the song -- which is called Now We Are Met. And, guys, I tried. I really tried. But I couldn't find much about this song, other than it was written by composer Samuel Webbe sometime during this era? There's not much to meta out of it -- other than it's a fun little song that you sing with your family around the piano, and it's usually done as a round. In case you're unfamiliar with rounds... here is a choir singing it (which, honestly, is really cool)

I would love to know the reason the show picked this particular song. Is it just a children's song that kids in the UK sing? Or is there some other meaning to it? I have no idea. Would love to hear from anyone who knows more about it - as I love discussing the use of music within story.

Yellow

Tying it to the boxing scene, Lord Featherington won a bunch of money, and now the Featheringtons aren't as badly off as they were - (even if society isn't that fond of them, still), and they're able to get bran new dresses for the Hastings' ball. Prudence is excited because she gets to let hers in. Phillipa finds hers to be perfect.

And... Penelope's is yellow.

It's such a great little comedic beat. (and, I mean, the bit with Portia telling Phillipa she can get married now that they can give her a dowry and Phillipa asking when it was lost is so hilarious. I'm so glad they pushed in on the comedy angle during Season 3.)

And, oh Penelope just isn't there yet -- she doesn't have the confidence to push against her mother's wishes. She doesn't have the power to let her clothes reflect the person she really is. She's still going to be that girl stuck in yellow, clinging to the walls of the ballroom for just a while longer. And that's okay. We've got a lot of great story to go!

And on that note, I'm going to end this musical based post with a cover Coldplay's Yellow -- a song, as you know, means a lot to this story, as we'll talk about a lot more come Season 3. :)

[bacchuschucklefuck]

love thinking kipperlilly spends her afterlife looking for lucy in a familiar forest

[skunkes]

if life is categorized by Before Loss and After Loss then I exist in the before but with a countdown to the after. and the countdown is always always present and debilitating. the loss will be debilitating too but i cant help myself. i will always suffer twice.

[quietwingsinthesky]

at some point i am going to have to force even to go back and deal with donna & tentoo & rose & all and everything they ran away from. and that will probably involve them losing tentoo’s chameleon arch watch by giving it back to its rightful owner, whether she chooses to open it or not. and that is. not going to be a very fun or stable time for them.

[munamania]

something that makes me feel guilty is the fact that seeing that persons face rn literally makes me angry. they walked into class and i nearly winced. and in all fairness they were quite kind to me. outside of the several kind of odd red flags. girl whatever. to be quite frank i am a horny bastard and vocal proud etc but few people interest me enough to actually want to hang out with and get to know And i have deep seated intimacy issues so it's like. we really dont have a shot unless the circumstances r exactly right on a full moon perfect thursday of a month etc like. well and tbh i probably would have fucked around with this person but i dont... care... about some big relationship w them.. and i know i could be a relationship girl like eventually i have it in me to have a muse that's what im built for i think idc but not rn... rn i need to hang out with my friends and do my film stuff and have people that maybe wanna make out sometimes is that so much to ask for. for a lesbian at a bar to want to make out perhaps. ** for there to be lesbians at the bars to potentially make out with.

[theflannelwizard]

It couldn’t. But it’s nice to dream.

[indigodreames]

ships tags drops

#。‧ * ‧: ✧ ┊ we never had to force love‚ we were drowning in it the moment we met ⊱ ◜benz & talay◞

#。‧ * ‧: ✧ ┊ as the world comes to an end i’ll be there to hold your hand ⊱ ◜ leo & bell◞

#。‧ * ‧: ✧ ┊ if your heart wears thin i will hold you up ⊱ ◜karim & lyra / fatescattered◞

#。‧ * ‧: ✧ ┊ can i hide in you a tonight? ⊱ ◜josh & paige / fatescattered◞

#。‧ * ‧: ✧ ┊ come over now and fix me with your grace; i'm not too far and you're my favorite place ⊱ ◜malia & nate / fatescattered◞

#。‧ * ‧: ✧ ┊ tell me i'm always here just to love you ⊱ ◜chai & max / maimeelai◞

#。‧ * ‧: ✧ ┊ i named both of her eyes forever and please don't go ⊱ ◜claire & boonsri / maimeelai ◞

#。‧ * ‧: ✧ ┊ with you right here by my side forever i need nothing else ⊱ ◜pitch & sky / maimeelai◞

#。‧ * ‧: ✧ ┊ i find comfort in the sound and shape of your heart ⊱ ◜ seonho & haru / tophatz ◞

#。‧ * ‧: ✧ ┊ i would fight for you if you would fight for me ⊱ ◜ lex & gavin / tophatz ◞

#。‧ * ‧: ✧ ┊ i breathe what is yours you breathe what is mine ⊱ ◜seonho & minki / tophatz◞

#。‧ * ‧: ✧ ┊ hold onto what we are ; hold on to your heart ⊱ ◜ seonho & mhir◞

#。‧ * ‧: ✧ ┊ you’re part of this loving game but it’s over now and i’m falling ⊱ ◜minsoo & tyler / wcrldcfvtlvs◞

#。‧ * ‧: ✧ ┊ stay here i want you and i think this can’t be wasted love ⊱ ◜seonho & victoria / wcrldcfvtlvs◞

#。‧ * ‧: ✧ ┊ wherever there is you i’ll be there too ⊱ ◜ valentina & victoria / wcrldcfvtlvs◞

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader. husband nanami, whiney nanami, brēeding, cowgirl, mdni. adding to this

riding nanami so good that it makes him want to propose. focusing his weight purely on his rocking chair, the continuous creaks sing as you’re rutting back and forth. “s- sweetheart,” he slurs in a dreamy tune, a baritone-like rasp falling on his words. one hand of his grips toward your waist, tracing a thumb against the pretty curvature of your torso. whining yourself, you lean in toward his neck to bury your face near the crook, but he makes you collapse back. “no, no. don’t hide from me, wanna see those eyes,” and as gentle, mahogany irises meet your own, he groans. “good girl, my good girl. jus’ keep lookin’ at me, yeah.”

“kennnn,” you whimper, the repetitive dragging of your hips scratching a bittersweet carnal itch near the insides of your brain. his body heat was scorching hot, you thought you were gonna melt. the insatiable skin slapping against skin makes you deliriously numb, you want more. with your loose jaw hanging itself open, drooping—you lean in to lick a stripe up his neck. “fuck, ‘s good. mhm,” and each time you slam back and forth against him, he kisses his teeth. nanami’s sweating profusely, he barely even notices though because his entire attention’s focused on you. his pretty girl. although, the moment you start to dip your hips in a deep circular rotation, he tosses his head back.

“fuckin’ s- shittt,” he swears, and even his curses sounded so blissful . . sinful. for the first time in forever, nanami whines. the palm of his hand then closes in on your ass to give it a good firm squeeze. with fawn strands covering his eyes, he starts to shake. with his hefty chest heaving and a needy tone pouring from his voice, his gaze meets yours once more. “marry me, m- marry me, i need you to be my wife, please.”

an eyebrow of yours quirk upward at his words as a smile pierces its way against your spit-slicked lips. you throw your arms over his broad shoulders before giving him a sweet reply.

“hm?” and your hips had him going insane—the tempo, it was just right. not too fast nor too slow. the centers of your jittery knees bury itself into the sides of the chair before you whisper into his ear. “did you forget, baby? ‘m already your wife.”

nanami moans, your voice was enough to make him spasm right then and there—you sounded so sweet but your insides felt even sweeter.

your sloppy cunt grips against him tight like a vice, simply clinging onto him for dear life. within each pull and bounce against his lap, your walls were so gummy and goopy. it was just tantalizing. you were nothing but a tease and he only craved for more as each second passes.

taking in every inch of his thick cock, you hold back a noise yourself. digging the edges of your teeth into your bottom lip to suppress an incoming squeal, you kiss his neck — it was slow, you create a soft trail of butterflies with your lips. marking his neck with your own wings that press against your mouth.

“hah, oh . . are we?” he responds, panting. with a hand still glued to your hip like it’s made of adhesive, his eyes meets his ring finger. you and him were definitely still married. he groans, feeling a lump in his throat equivalent to the size of a saucer. “ah, forgive me sweetheart. ‘m sorry, y- your hips are just so..”

he doesn’t even bother trying to finish his trembling sentence before his cock kisses up against your g-spot once more. not just an ordinary kiss though, a french kiss.

it’s sloppy, passionate, and exquisitely thorough.

tangled fingers of yours claw at his cerulean blue dress collar. with cobwebs and cobwebs of slick saliva sloshing against each mouth — he huffs, shivering from your hands to roam further down his work shirt he wore. nanami was sexily slouched back, two thighs spread open for you with a single leg bouncing up and down in anticipation.

oh, he was close. his base sags and hangs as you’re rutting against him quicker and quicker. with a nice amount of fingers scraping through his hair and toying your fingertips with his scalp, you dip your tongue further into his mouth. “m- my love,” he purrs, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him so whiney. his voice was melodic at most, each breaking syllable making the throbbing between your legs intensify. “don’t stop, please—i love you, i love you.”

“i love you too ‘ken,” you babble, feeling the elastic stretch curve and pull through your walls.

your lips part and you moan before feeling him hold your waist tight. nanami groans against your ear and it’s so low that it was almost a mere growl. it could have easily been mistaken as a growl with the raspiness in his voice. with your knees continuing to plow deeper into the chair, bouncing back and forth, he spanks you, again, and again, and again.

nanami’s about to come, you know once his prettily blown irises roll wayyy back until he’s seeing white and his thin brows curl into a proper furrow.

each sloppy bounce against his lap punctuates so good that he’s barely able to hold his moans back by now. you had him hooked. his faint poking dimples press together as he tries to speak, but instead of words, another dragging whine escapes. leaning up against his ear, your warm breath tickles his lobe. “c’mon, kento. cum in me, ‘s okay. make a mess in me, baby.”

“f- fuck, keep talk to me just like that, sweetheart ‘n i might,” he replies back in a shaky tone, feeling a chill reside up his spine.

your cunt’s addictive warmth was preparing to milk him for all that he’s worth. as he clenches down on his jaw for the umpteenth time, his grip against your waist tightens. “ugh, ‘s gonna be so much. so much for you, my sweet l- love,” and as he’s rambling, a thick load abruptly shoots into your core, dribbling into your womb. it’s hot, and when it rains it pours. nanami swallows thickly, the same lump that lived in his throat was now forming into a ball. your hips steadily slow down and you glance down to see the lewd mess emitting deeply into you. it’s so much—it’s velvety, creamy ropes of cum that quickly fill you up to the very top. as his tip spits such sloppy amounts of seed into your starved cunt, he bites his lip. “oh, ‘s still comin’ out. forgive me, ‘m givin’ you all of me, princess.”

with a soft smile, you kiss near the crevice of his mouth where a tiny crinkle caresses and marinates against his soft features. “don’t apologize for being dirty, ken. ‘s okay.” and his face softens at your words. nanami feels his body shudder with heat from how gentle you were with him.

you’re clinging onto him dry and he’s still pumping you full of ridiculous inches—featuring his beloved, syrupy textured cum. it’s a whopping amount that he could barely process how much he’s gifted to you until he actually looks down. the moment chest deflates, the sensitive crown head of his cock gives your sweetest spot its final chaste kiss. satisfied with being filled to the very brim, you don’t get off just yet. instead, you remain there, gently brushing your hips forward.

“m- marry me,” he repeats, his voice cracking.

nanami hears the squelches and spurts your own pussy makes from the residue of cum spewing from the undersides of your legs. “ah,” and he grips your chin, attempting to kiss you but his lips instead reach toward your chin. you worn him out, he’s barely even reaching your mouth and it’s cute. nanami’s got hooded half lidded eyes and a pried open mouth. he’s almost drooling for you, that’s how whipped you had him. “be my wife, i need you.”

kissing his cheek, you smile at his current pussy drunken state. taking a mental image to savor this moment forever, a thumb brushes its way against his tender cheek. “i'm your wife already, silly,” and his eyes dramatically roll back in rapture again. nanami’s releases always last long, and he’s still getting over it. his dick twitches from the sound of your voice, and he wanted more of his sweet sweet wife. the feeling of your sopping walls squeezing him for every ounce of cum he’s got makes him grunt. it feels so good that it’s almost heavenly. it’s warm and insanely sticky — oozing in ropey wads from your hole before trickling all near his lap. “all yours, ken.”

“all m- mine,” he repeats breathlessly, gently grabbing your wrist up to his mouth.

with a sheepish exhale leaving his lips, a free hand slithers its way toward your tummy. sighing deeply, nanami makes direct eye contact. “my love,” he repeats for a final time, and you gasp once he suddenly pulls out.

pouting for a second at feeling empty, he makes you lie flat on your back. nanami’s got a feral look in his eyes, broad shoulders raising up and down and messy unkempt strands all in his face, he wants one thing tonight and it’s you.

as he spreads your quavering legs open with a single hand, he then creeps two fingers toward your stuffed cunt to smear his cum near your entrance. “since we’re already married, let me g- give you a baby, sweetheart. you’d be such a good m- mommy.”

[brokenmenswhore]

release | jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

summary: jace is on the brink of snapping and lashing out toward his mother and her council for their lack of action against the greens, so you give him another outlet for his frustration

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), rough sex, jace is a lil rough & feral in this one

────── ☾ ──────

“And what of those who sent him?” Jacaerys snapped, questioning his mother as they buried yet another body.

He was angry. He couldn’t help but lose people. Everyone around him kept fleeing or dying, and he tried desperately to hold his tongue, but his patience was slipping. War was inevitable, and he was frustrated at his mother’s lack of action toward the opposing force. He wanted revenge, retaliation, and most of all, he wanted to be the one to give it.

As the eldest son, however, he tried not to cause a scene, knowing he played an important role in this war, and hoping that his silence and unwavering support of his mother’s decisions would breed the proper trust that was needed to allow him more involvement and access in the war.

He was evidently tense at council meetings. His tongue was becoming sharper with each sentence related to the war. He couldn’t help it. He pushed through the doors to your chambers, angry and frustrated from the events of the day.

He stopped short when he saw you turn in your chair to face him. Taking a deep breath, the tension in his body dropped. “I need a hug.”

You smiled, standing and approaching him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You remained a step lower than him in the entrance. He rested his chin on the top of your head.

“I just don’t understand why she won’t do anything,” he began, “I know she doesn’t want this war. I don’t want this war, but it’s happening. We have all lost so much, and it will not stop. Why won’t she do something?”

“Perhaps she believes it can still be avoided,” you responded.

“How much blood from my family must be split before she realizes it can’t?”

Your heart ached for him. You wanted to hold him in the hug forever, curing all his pain and never letting him out of the room.

“I’m sorry, Jacaerys.”

“It is not a fault of yours,” he replied, “it is just exhausting. I wish for a break from all of this, even if just momentary. I feel as if any moment, I may break, and I do not wish to take these frustrations out on my mother or her council. It would only cause the situation to worsen.”

You looked up at him, “then take it out on me.”

“What?”

“Take your frustrations out on me, Jace.”

“You do not deserve such treatment.”

You sighed, “but I am asking for it. Allow yourself to have an outlet. Why else am I here?”

Jacaerys was bewildered, “you are not here for me to take my anger out on. I would not do such a thing.”

“I wish for you to relax. I would not speak the offer if I did not mean it. Please, Jace.”

Jace leaned down to kiss you, initiating a sweet, intimate kiss before his frustrations took over and he deepened the kiss, gripping your thighs, causing you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. He continued to kiss you as you clung to his shoulders, his steps towards the bed shaking you and causing you to nearly fall.

The Velaryon prince was usually quite nice to you, making sure to take things slow and constantly checking in on your comfort and pleasure. He would typically slowly drop your back onto the mattress, but tonight, he quite literally pushed you down, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed you into the mattress.

You moaned at the eagerness of it all, Jace’s hands running up and down your side, gripping your waist and pushing your hips down, until your legs were no longer wrapped around his body. Never breaking the kiss, he lifted up your nightdress, his fingers finding their way under your small clothes, not giving you time to ease into it as he began roughly rubbing circles on your clit.

You squealed into the kiss. Jace moved to begin sucking bruises into your neck, his hair falling in front of his face, as he continued to rub you. You couldn’t help but moan, trying your hardest to remain as quiet as possible, since his little brother’s chambers were just a wall away.

“He’s not here,” Jace groaned.

You could barely speak. “What?”

“He’s not in his chambers. He’s out with Arrax. Stop holding back,” Jace demanded, “wanna hear what I’m doing to you.”

This controlling nature was a change, but you didn’t mind it at all. You stopped trying to quiet yourself, a moan of his name leaving your lips as he pushed a finger into you.

“That’s it,” he cooed, “you sound so pretty.”

“T-thank you,” you responded.

Jacaerys didn’t stop curling his finger inside of you, but giggled, “did you just thank me?”

“Mhm,” you moaned.

“You’re too cute,” he said, breaking his frustrated and controlling demeanor for a second, the compliment making your heart swell as he continued to fuck you with his fingers.

He felt you start to squeeze, and he immediately pulled his hand away from you. You sighed in disappointment.

He lifted you from under your arms, shifting you so you were sitting up, as he began to undo his breeches.

“I just wish I could go to King’s Landing,” he started, pushing his small clothes down and allowing his cock to be free, “I’d kill every last one of them.”

He gripped your hair, pushing your face down until it was level with his cock. “Open.”

You did as he told you, opening your mouth as he pushed his cock into your mouth, immediately hitting the back of your throat. He was big, too big to fit completely in your mouth, but you were getting better and better at breathing through your nose to avoid gagging around his cock.

“Not today,” he sighed, “stop holding back or I’ll fuck it out of your throat.”

You listened to him, forgetting everything you know about avoiding gagging, and allowing him to direct your head up and down, his cock hitting the back of your throat with every single thrust. You gagged and choked around him, but he didn’t let up.

“They think they’re so big and bad,” he said, breathy from the pleasure of your mouth around him, “if only they were around me. I could take all of them. I could end their whole fucking line.”

He began to thrust his hips at a vicious pace. You had no choice but to take it, trying your best to continue sucking and swirling your tongue around the head of his cock as he fucked your mouth mercilessly.

“I’d end their whole. fucking. line,” he said again, speaking through each thrust and throwing his head back in pleasure.

“Fuck, get up, I’m not done with you yet,” he commanded, pulling you off of him to stop himself from coming before he wanted to.

You didn’t dare adjust your position without his say so. You sat there waiting for him to put you where he wanted you. He flipped your body over, pressing your face into the pillow as he pulled your hips up to meet his. He took both of your wrists in one hand, locking them behind your back as his other hand guided his cock into your entrance and then moved to your waist as he started rocking into you, pushing you further and further into the mattress.

Your body folded and became weak, as much of you falling into the bed as was possible, the only thing keeping your hips upward was the rough grip Jacaerys had on them. You whined and moaned, your entire body rocking forward with each snap of his hips.

“Seven hells,” he breathed out, his pace never relenting, “are you still okay?”

“Mhm,” you moaned out, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Shit, I hate not being able to hear you,” he said, pulling out of you and flipping your body so you were flat on the mattress, facing him. “That’s better,” he smiled, immediately fucking back into you with no warning.

You cried out, grabbing his face and kissing him through the intensity. He grunted into the kiss, having never fucked you, or anyone for that matter, this hard before. All of his pent up rage and frustration was being taken out on your cunt.

Your back arched off the mattress, Jace taking the opportunity to wrap an arm around your waist, holding you even closer to him.

He spoke with every thrust, “I. Want. Revenge.”

“I k-know,” you moaned out.

“I. Want. Fucking. Revenge.”

It was overwhelming, and the intensity with which he was fucking you started to make your head cloudy. “J- Jace, it’s too m-“

Jacaerys cut you off by kissing you, doing everything he can to stop your words. “You can take it, baby.”

“I c-“ the pressure was so intense. You could feel your walls start to squeeze around his cock, and his pace was relentless.

“You can,” he said, looking directly into your eyes, “and you will.”

You nodded and let him continue splitting you open on his cock, dropping your waist down to the mattress again as he fucked into you, hands rough on your waist as they pushed you down.

Your eyes filled with tears. Jacaerys had never seen you like this, crying from the intensity, sweat sticking your hair to your forehead as you writhed under him. He didn’t know he was capable of making you feel like this, and he didn’t know you would look so fucking pretty as a result.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled, “I’m close.”

You couldn’t even respond, you just continued to whine and moan under him, watching his face contort as he released inside of you. The final few thrusts of his hips were cruel, his large length hitting that spongy spot inside of you that made you see stars. Through his high, he could feel you close, and he forced himself to continue pushing in and out of you until you met your climax.

Your legs shook as a wave of pleasure washed over you, your entire body eventually melting into the bed with weakness. Jace waited a moment before pulling out of you, kissing you as he did so.

You tried hard to catch your breath, but it took you longer than you anticipated. Jace, ever so attentive, looked down at you and asked, “you okay?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I should start making you mad.”

[artdcnaldson]

NEED art and patrick to find out I'm a virgin and offer to teach me how to kiss and how to fuck and use eachother as examples and guide me and tell me I'm doing a good job and reward me for being such a good student and come back later and quiz me to see if I remember everything they taught me ugh obsessed with them individually and as a unit

This has lived rent free in my mind for literally forever. I can’t stop thinking about it, it haunts my every waking moment.

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Making out, Handjob lessons, guys being pervs, not a love triangle they just all want to fuck each other

A/N: unedited bc I wrote this while on the clock okay whatever. Enjoyyyy and if u want me to continue this lmk >:)

“I think it’s sweet,” Patrick said, and you could hear the amusement in his voice, practically dripping from every syllable. “The last American virgin. You belong in a museum.”

You rolled your eyes and tossed your empty Taco Bell cup at him— the ice rattled and it leaked a puddle of condensation onto the ground. “You could try not to be a dick about it.”

Art’s dorm room was hot and sticky thanks to a faulty AC, which meant the three of you lounging on the floor by his open window, sucking down soda watered down by melted ice cubes. You were down to a T-shirt and shorts, they were down to their boxers. It wasn’t lost on you that it was an intimate situation to be in— barely dressed, crammed into the shoebox of a dorm. And of course Patrick had dug his fingers in until you admitted your secret— you had made it all the way to college totally unfucked.

Patrick leaned forward, smiling the smarmy smile that tended to wear at your last nerve. “So you’re a virgin, but like,” he leaned in, so close you could feel body heat radiating from him. He dropped his voice, just above a whisper. “How much of a virgin, really? You’ve at least gone to third, right?” You glared, but shook your head.

“Second?” Art supplied, suddenly jumping in with an eager sort of curiosity.

“What? No, I don’t even know what that means,” you admitted. You sighed before you spoke up. “I’ve only ever kissed one guy and one girl, and it was during a game of spin the bottle, like, junior year.”

“How?” Patrick asked.

Your brows furrowed. “How? I spun the bottle, it landed on the person, I leaned in, put my lips against theirs, and that was it.”

Patrick sighed. “Just fucking show me how.” He looked at you expectantly, inching even closer.

With an annoyed sigh, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his— mouth closed, lips firm. When you sat back, Patrick and Art were both grinning.

“What?” You asked with a frown.

“That’s how you kiss on the playground in elementary school,” Art said, unable to contain his laughter. “C’mere.”

You crawled forward, stopping in front of the blond. His hand settled on your jaw, coaxing you forward.

His lips met yours softly, sweetly. It was easy to lose yourself in the feeling of Art’s mouth, in the gentle brushes of his lips against yours and the way he held your face so tenderly.

The feeling of his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips was strange, but you welcomed it, letting him lick into your mouth.

Each pass of his tongue against yours drew you deeper and deeper into it, into him. You moved into his lap without realizing it, kissing him with sweet, timid laps of your tongue.

Art pulled back first, his cheeks soft and pink and so pretty. “See? That’s how you’re supposed to kiss someone. That was really good.”

You laughed softly, and moved off of his lap sheepishly. Patrick leaned forward, brushing your hair back, holding your face in his hand.

“Okay, show me what Art showed you,” he instructed, then leaned in.

Kissing Patrick was different than kissing Art. He was hungrier, more insistent. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he wanted to chart every inch. You did your best to match what he offered, to kiss the way Art had just shown you, sweetly, like you really meant it.

And you did mean it. Patrick’s hands moved along your side, up until they cupped your tits through your shirt. You moaned softly into his mouth— the sound was muffled, met with a moan of his own. He gave an experimental squeeze of your tits and you whined softly. So he did it again, amused by the pretty, sweet noises you mewled out.

Patrick was getting hard, pressing against your thigh. It was a new sensation that you were hyper aware of as you unconsciously ground yourself against him.

You pulled back first, cheeks burning hot after you remembered Art was right beside you. You tucked unkempt hair behind your ear, smiled bashfully. “How was I?”

“Good,” Patrick said.

At the same time Art supplied, “So good.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Okay. Cool.”

Art was squirming, fidgeting, holding a pillow over his lap. Patrick was less covert— opting to openly adjust himself, drawing more attention to the fact that he was hard. You rolled your eyes and stole the nearest cup you could find, sipping at watered down Mountain Dew.

“Do you want me to leave?” You teased, raising an eyebrow. Your teeth dug into the plastic straw as you looked between the two of them.

Art stammered, mortified, but Patrick just smiled dizzyingly over at you. “I can teach you something else. You got to first base, so why don’t you steal second?”

You rolled your eyes, but heat flared behind your cheeks. Jesus Christ, he was such a smug asshole. “I still don’t know what that means,” you said, feeling a little embarrassed.

He grinned and mimed jerking off. Your eyes widened, and you laughed softly. “That would be weird,” you said, half-believing it. “Like, if I did jerk one of you off, that leaves one of you just watching.”

You glanced at Art, who looked just as interested as Patrick did, and your heart stammered nervously. “What if I show you how you do it on Art? Look at him— he’s the perfect little practice dummy.” Patrick reached over, pinching at Art’s cheek until the blond kicked his shin.

“Show me?” You echoed. “Like… you’re going to do it to him, and I do it to you?”

Patrick nodded, leaning into Art’s side, his smarmy smile dissolved into something needier. Art swallowed hard, lips parted slightly as he looked over at Patrick.

Patrick’s lips met his slowly, hungrily. You watched wide eyed as Patrick deepened the kiss, as Art eagerly accepted the other boy’s tongue into his mouth.

Patrick threw the pillow out of Art’s lap and sent it careening into the desk on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes widened at the sight of Art, hard and tenting his boxers. Patrick palmed him in his large hands making the blonde whimper into his mouth and buck up, seeking friction.

You swallowed hard, biting down on the straw as you watched Patrick tug at the elastic of Art’s boxers. Art lifted his hips to allow Patrick to tug them down his thighs, just enough to expose his cock to both of you.

“See,” Patrick gasped, leaning back from their kiss. Art chased his lips fruitlessly, mouth ajar, waiting for more. “He’s so fucking easy. Come feel.”

You moved closer, looking at Art for permission. When he nodded, you reached out, letting your fingertips graze the soft skin of his shaft. He exhaled a shuddery breath, eyes fluttering shut. Patrick’s hand covered yours, guiding you to squeeze around his length.

He was warm under your touch, silky soft, pulsing in your grip. Your heart hammered just at that— at the feel of him in your hand. “Feels nice, huh? Knowing how much he wants you.” You nodded, then slid your fist up, testing the waters. Art moaned softly, throbbed in your grip, aching for more. Patrick smiled like the cat who got the cream. “Hands off, just watch me.”

Patrick spat into his hand and replaced your hand with his own. The second Patrick curled his fingers around Art and started stroking him slowly, the blond was mewling for more. “Fuck,” he moaned, his forehead knocking against Patrick’s, mouth open, panting. “That’s good, feels good.”

You watched Patrick rub his thumb over Art’s tip, eyes widening as Art really whimpered for it, hips thrusting up into Patrick’s fist, chasing more of the pleasure the brunet offered.

“You get it now?” Patrick asked. You nodded quickly, and he tugged down his own boxers. “Fuck, okay— fucking show me.”

Your heart hammered with nerves, but you nodded. You held your hand out and spit into it, mimicking what Patrick had done before you wrapped your hand around his cock.

He felt bigger in your hands, but you didn’t say that. One, you worried it might piss Art off, and two, he didn’t need the ego boost. And he was slick, beading precum at his tip so each pass of your hands felt slicker and slicker.

And you couldn’t help but want to be an asshole. “You’re wet like a girl,” you said with a smirk, gliding your thumb over his tip.

And he was shameless, nodding with a sly grin. “That means I like you.” He panted, moaning softly. “Besides, I bet your fucking panties aren’t dry right now.”

Well, fuck. You tried to ignore the rush of heat in your belly that those words caused, to focus only on the glide of your hand on Patrick’s cock— up and down, copying his pace on Art, copying the ways he’d squeeze and twist his hand.

Art was moaning, rutting up into the tight sheath of Patrick’s fist, the muscles of his abdomen tensing and relaxing in unsteady jerks beneath his soft skin.

“Fuck— switch, switch,” Patrick said quickly. Art whined when Patrick stopped touching him, but it was ignored. “Want you to feel it when he comes.”

He guided your hand back onto Art’s cock and nodded for you to move. “Fuck, your hand’s so soft,” Art groaned. “Faster, faster, fuck—“ He was practically begging. You swallowed, increased the pace, squeezed him a little tighter.

Art was touching Patrick— jerking him off while you brought him closer and closer to finishing. Patrick leaned in, kissed you deeply, pulled Art in too until the three of you were a mess of tongues and lips and spit and hands.

Art came first— coating your hand in warm, slick cum, throbbing in your grip. He was panting into your and Patrick’s mouths, moaning softly as you continued to slowly work him through it. Patrick came next, once Art redoubled his effort, focused on making Patrick add to the mess covering your hands.

Patrick was loud, pornographic, messy. Art brought a cum covered hand between his lips, cleaning it up. Your eyes widened.

“Art, c’mon, you’re scandalizing her,” Patrick said, like you weren’t even there.

“Shut up,” you said, shoving him. He laughed and pulled his boxers back up. Art followed suit, and the three of you were left gross and sweating in the heat. You wiped your hand off on one of their discarded shirts and gave a sheepish smile.

They sat there, expectantly. Waiting for you to make the next call. There was a level of want in you, need, but the thought of asking for them to take care of it was mortifying. “Do you want to watch a movie or something now?”

[lordsukunas]

piggyback rides

synop: you want trueform!sukuna to give you a piggyback ride and he doesn’t know what it is. that’s it.

tags: fluffy fluff fluff, fem!reader (referred as woman once, refers to self as ‘queen’ and ‘wife’ once), ooc sukuna (only bc he’s less of an asshole), possessive behavior (kind of?), mentions of sukuna-typical violence, likely historically inaccurate, not proofread. i couldn’t determine whether or not he was actually wearing a haori or something similar - correct me if i’m wrong n i’ll change it!

notes: basic ass title ik... erm sorry! another post in two days is a miracle so i’m a little proud of myself. half-assed ending lol... anyway, this is just a silly lil drabble!! any interaction is much appreciated, enjoyyyy! :3

“what.”

the first set of crimson eyes dart down to look at you, the other set still tracking the scuttling servants. you’re situated quite snugly in his expansive lap — two thick arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his bare chest. “what the hell is that?”

you nibble the inside of your cheek to suppress a smirk. finally, you know something that sukuna does not! and it only took three years. “it’s where i get on your back and you carry me around. quite simple, truthfully.”

he snorts at the slight condescension in your voice. for something so agitating, you have quite the ego. “mm. and why should i do that for you? you can walk on your own, unless your legs are mysteriously broken all of a sudden.”

“because,” you say with a huff, “it’s fun. don’t you want to bond with your queen?”

anxious eyes of passing maids sneak glances at you, your little huff drawing their attention. sukuna shifts you in his lap, turning you to the side, and the massive sleeve of his robe moves to obscure your form from their undeserving gaze. “we have bonded enough.”

“and it would not hurt to bond some more!” you counter. sukuna’s stubbornness is something you absolutely adore about him, but not right now. “can the mighty king of curses not spare a moment of his day to entertain his wife’s wish?”

he falls silent at this, and you can practically see the gears churning in his big head. he’ll cave. if there’s one thing that’s undeniable about the sorcerer, it’s his curiosity.

“... fine,” he grunts. after scooping you up and setting you down, he stands up and gestures with his hand. “so how do we do it?”

your lips curve up into a smirk. “okay, turn around so that your back is facing me.”

sukuna turns around, folding one pair of arms over his chest.

“then, crouch down a little.”

a beat passes, and then he crouches down, back muscles flexing underneath the dark fabric of his haori.

you step up behind him and slide your arms around his neck. his adam’s apple bobs, and the other arms move to cradle your butt. “if this is an attempt to choke me, it isn’t work.”

he always thinks someone’s out to get him. you roll your eyes. “no. if i wanted to kill you, i likely would’ve attempted forever ago.” you lift your lower half onto the lower part of his back, and your legs wrap around his hips.

another beat passes. “is that it?”

“yep.”

sukuna adjusts you, his hold on you becoming more secure as he rights himself to his full height. the warmth of your breath ghosts across his ear, and he can smell the scented lotion you applied this morning.

why hadn’t he done this before?

“soooooo,” you drawl, and he can hear the smile in your beautiful voice without even having to look. you’re so close — he hears the little inhale before you speak, the nearly imperceptible huff of laughter once you finish. “what are you just standing here for? we gotta walk around, explore the estate! it’s not fun if we’re just stuck in one place.”

“i am not a servant,” he warns, voice gruff, but he starts to move towards the throne room’s exit anyway. anyone unfortunate enough bows, mutters a jumbled greeting to the both of you, and scrambles out of the way.

it’s no secret that sukuna is more... benevolent, when you’re around. but that is a double-edged sword — if someone dares to disturb your peace or inconvenience you in his presence, they’d be facing a swift death, along with their parents for giving birth to such vermin.

“apologies, my spectacular husband.” you lean forward a bit and press a kiss onto his cheek, leaving a faint lipstick stain. “now, please, venture forth.”

he rolls his eyes. “if you command me again, woman, i am going to sprint.”

the teasing lilt quickly disappears from your voice, and your arms tighten around his neck. “n-no, that isn’t necessary.”

sukuna’s pace increases, now a brisk jog instead of a leisure walk, and you can hear the gravel crunching beneath his feet. “oh? is it not?”

“it isn’t!” you squeak. a little embarrassing, yes, but you know how fast sukuna is — you’re positive that if he broke out into a full-speed run, you’d be sick by the end of it.

“let’s find out and see.”

[unorthodoxfaithxx]

Super happy, puppy dog yandere boyfriend that’s happy to have sex with you for the first time

afab reader ; nsfw

You look so beautiful in bed, all dolled up and pretty just for him! And only for him! He’s so excited that his pants feel way too restrictive, and if he had a tail you bet it’d be wagging a mile a minute. 

He looks at your soft curves, your bashful, oh-so-cute-eyes, and the rosiness of your adorable cheeks with so much love. Because he loves you. And he really REALLY means it. And wants to show you how he really feels tonight. He was so happy that you’d agreed to go all the way with him. 

When he undresses and leans over your body, hands squeezing your hips and inner thigh, you feel him trembling with anticipation. You giggle at the sight, and he swears your voice is like an angel from above singing holy scripture into his ears. 

You unclasp your bra, throwing it to the side of the room. He imagines smothering his face between your tits until you slowly peel your laced panties out from under you, revealing a perfectly pink pussy that has him practically drooling, all sense of self restraint bursting at the seams.

He’s all over you before you can even say a word, face between your legs, boyish hands keeping a vice like grip on your thighs to keep you open as he laps and laps away until he’s satisfied. Which in the moment, he thinks he’ll never be with how good you taste. His drool gets everywhere, coating your already wet cunt with his own juices. He apologizes for the mess and eagerly goes to clean it up with his tongue, sucking on your mound like a dog gobbling over a chew toy. 

Did he already say your voice sounds like an angel? Because your moans are so immaculate he can just listen to you say his name and ONLY his name all damn day. Just you and him. Together forever and ever and ever and ever —

The thought of spending eternity with you puts him over the edge, and he practically whines for you to let him put his cock inside. 

“Please, baby? I promise I’ll make you feel good. I promise! I wanna feel you so bad. I can’t take it anymore.”

You find his begging cute, but would be a cruel woman to tell him no when he’s staring at you with such puppy-love, lust ridden eyes. When you say yes, he’s over the moon, already covering your body with sloppy kisses and thank yous, muttering promises of how he’ll make you feel oh so full, oh so good, and that he’ll take care of you forever. 

He knows you’re not a virgin but he doesn’t care. He would have loved to be your first but that doesn’t matter now, the only thing that matters is making you his right this moment and making it to where you’ll never want another man ever again, just him. 

When his cock plunges into you he moans just as loud as you, if not more. You feel his heart pounding like crazy and reach to kiss him, sending him into a frenzy of ‘I love you’s and ‘Mine, mine, MINE’. He latches onto your tits like they’re a lifeline, feeling so high with adrenaline that he almost zones out and ignores your moans. Uh-oh, can’t do that! He wants to hear every noise you’ll make for him tonight. 

He’s fucking you so fast and so good you can barely think straight, and your fucked out expression just sends him over the moon. He squeals at your adorable face and holds you tighter, biting into your neck and laughing when you gasp at his actions. He hasn’t bothered counting how many times you’ve come. He just knows it’s been more than three. 

You ask him to take you from behind, doggystyle, and he happily obliges. He fucks you deep, slamming into you as hard as he can, gripping your ass and giving one cheek a nice smack. With a pull of your hair, he’s got you on both knees pressed flush against his body. He gives you another hickey on your neck, but not before another bite. 

“Oh you’re doing so good for me baby. Just like that! Yeah. Go ahead and cum for me.” He encourages. 

Boy, does he want to come inside you so bad, make you his and mark you, but he knows how you feel about that and opts to come outside instead, all over your perfect ass. 

When he finishes, he flops into bed next to you and holds you tight, looking at you with concerned but hopeful eyes. 

“How was that?? Was it good? You won’t leave me know will you? I know I liked it, but did you? We can go another round if you want. I wanna make you—“

You hush him with a reassuring kiss on the lips.