#i really do have shit taste in games but i needed to yell this into the void

[screamingay]

somehow these current roommates we have are the worst that ive known yet and last semester we literally had a girl who smoked cigs IN her bedroom. list of grievances below lol

[gojotojis]

When the Party’s Over pt.3

Part 1 Part 2

summary: you and sukuna are now dating, only you’re keeping it a secret but secrets eventually come out.

pairing: college! sukuna x college! fem reader

content MDNI: slight angst ?, bestfriends brother, frenemies, secret romance, soft sukuna, squirting,oral (m receiving) , unprotected sex, vaginal sex, riding, cum eating, fingering, fluff, aftercare, dacryphillia, oral choking, praise kink, overstimulation

This ended up being so fluffy, pls don’t beat me up. Soft sukuna just has me in a chokehold! Also this is my favorite smut I’ve written thus far!

Choso insisted on you coming over for a John Wick marathon, of course Yuki was there, which you didn’t mind. Yuki’s actually really nice to you and her music taste is so similar to yours, you’re constantly making eachother playlists and sending eachother songs you think the other would like. You’ve never had a girl friend so it’s nice.

You sit on the couch next to Yuji whose eyes widen everytime John fires his gun, while Choso and Yuki sit cuddled up on the other side of the sofa.

You have to admit, Johns incredibly sexy. You’d happily sit through four movies soley about him but your eyes keep drifting towards the stairs.

All you want to do is crawl into Sukunas bed and sleep but you can’t. You’re scared for Choso to find out, scared that it’ll ruin your friendship. Sukuna doesn’t care, he doubts Choso will give a shit and maybe he’s right but you’re not ready.

You and Sukuna have only been dating for three months now and you love being in your own little bubble with him. You also love the thrill you get from sneaking around, the way he sneaks you into his house after hours just so you can fall asleep on him.

You’re not sure the separation anxiety you feel is healthy, he’s the only thing on your mind, the first thing you think about when you wake up and the last thing you think about when you go to sleep. He’s your first boyfriend, your first everything and you hope he’s your last.

It feels so good to be utterly obsessed with someone and them to reciprocate it. It’s also a rush knowing your boyfriend hates everyone but you, that he’s mean in public but when he’s alone with you, he’s on his knees telling you how much he loves you.

You feel like you’re going insane, you need to feel his skin against yours. You’re never not clinging to him like a monkey, making him carry you everywhere. You’re just so obsessed with him, it makes you want to rip your hair out, definitely not healthy but you don’t give a shit.

You anxiously start eating the popcorn Yujis holding, fighting the urge to run up stairs and tackle Sukuna. This is different, so different, whatever you felt for Choso doesn’t come even a fraction close to how you feel about Sukuna.

“I’m so tired,” you fake yawn, stretching your arms up and Yuji scoffs.

“It’s only been an hour,” he says and you yawn again for emphasis.

“I had such a long day, I’m sorry guys,” you say innocently and Choso shakes his head. “Just go to sleep in one of the guest rooms, I can take you home in the morning,” he says and you nod standing up.

Yuji looks at you suspiciously but all you do is offer an apologetic smile before you’re climbing up the stairs. Your fingers wrap the handle to Sukunas door and open it. He’s sitting at his desk, engrossed in a game of call of duty while he curses out someone on his headset.

You lock the door and peel your clothes off till you’re naked. You pull your hair from its ponytail and let it fall to your hips before you walk toward him. He looks to you and then back to the screen before looking at you again with wide eyes and you giggle.

“I gotta go,” he says over the headset.

“We’re about to fucking win!” you hear someone yell at him as you turn the chair to face you. You climb onto his lap and reach for his hand as his teammates scream at him through the headset.

He watches you take his hand and press his fingers against your pussy, covering them in your arousal before you lift them to your mouth and lick them. He throws his head back and closes his eyes.

“I really gotta fucking go,” he says before closing the game, and the shouting stops. He quickly removes his headset and sets downs his controller.

“Hi,” you smile innocently.

“Hi baby,” he breathes before his lips find yours. Your lips brush and tongues lap against eachother. His hands slide over the curve of your waists and up to your tits. His large hands splay across them and he squeezes them hard.

“Does my good girl need some attention?” He asks, his tongue licking the sides of your breasts and you nod.

“How bad?” He asks, rolling a nipple between his fingers as you grind down against his bulge.

“Really bad,” you say creating a bouncing rhythm. He can feel the wet patch you’re making on his crotch. Your fingers reach for the hem of his shirt and he lifts his arms up, letting you take it off.

You’ll never get tired of his body, the ridges, the muscles and the defined v at his hips. Your nails graze his abs before they start tracing over the tattoos on his arms. His body is hot to the touch, and he shivers under your cold fingers.

“You gonna ride me?” He asks. You’re a pillow princess, you love just laying down and taking it while he does most of the work but you’ve never done that before, yet it sounds dirty and you like it.

“Yes,” you say confidently. You’ve only ever done missionary, he knows it’s your favorite, it’s just so intimate, being able to see his expressions and watch where your bodies connect as he fucks into you.

He knows he’s gonna be helping you by the end of this but he pats your ass and you sit up, letting him slide his pants off and his cock springs free. Your mouth waters at the sight and you slide down to your knees.

Your hand wraps around it and he hisses. You watch the way his abs contract when you spit repeatedly on it till it’s nice and sloppy, just how he likes it. You press several kisses to the tip letting precum smear against you lips, teasing him before you lick up the sides.

He groans as you feel the veins against your tongue. He stands up so he can get a better look at you when he slowly inches his cock into your mouth. Your mouth widens as you breathe through your nose like he taught you, tears gather in your eyes, looking up at him until his dick is pressed against the back of your throat.

“Gonna fuck the shit out of this mouth,” he groans and your pussy throbs. His fingers thread through your hair and slowly pulls out of your mouth before plunging back in. His dick is so fucking warm in your mouth, he groans when you lick the underside. He starts thrusting into your mouth, not breaking eye contact as he watches you cry and it turns him on so fucking bad watching the tears flow down your cheeks.

You’re gagging on his dick, your hands gripping his thighs praying nobody can hear you choking.

“So good for me baby,” he grunts, forcing more down your throat and your eyes widen but you try to relax. He’s buried in your throat, your nose touching his pelvis. He thrusts in out, beating the back of your throat, saliva smearing all over your face and dripping onto your chest.

Your fingers find your pussy and you force your middle and index finger inside of you, desperate for a release as you bounce on your fingers. Your mouth cries against his cock, and it’s enough that he’s pulling out. He watches you fingering yourself and loses it, cum hits your face in thick ropes and then your chest, you fingers leave your cunt and you swipe the cum off your lips, sucking them off before you stand up and push Sukuna back down into the chair.

He watches you glide your fingers over your nipples, scooping up cum before you swallow it. You’re a fucking freak, not even close to what he dreamed of, but better.

You straddle him as he leans back, letting you take control. You grip his cock and line it up at your sopping hole. Your eyes close as you slowly sink down onto it, the stretch one of your favorite parts.

Little tremors hit you as your pussy swallows him until your ass is flush against his thighs. He’s so fucking deep, you think you might cum if you move. His full attention is on you, hands gripping the arms of the chair.

You pull up, feeling his cock slowly leave you before you bounce back down. You moan as quietly as you can as you bounce up and down his cock. This feels so good but it’s so much work, work you’re not use to and you look at him with those big doe eyes. He was waiting for this.

“Help me,” you whisper and his hands slide to your ass, lifting you up and slamming you down on him, hard.

Your teeth sink into his shoulder as he slams you up and down his cock over and over, sweat starts to coat your body and your tits bounce with each thrust. You hear gunshots downstairs from the tv, praying they don’t hear Sukuna drilling into you.

“The sweetest fucking pussy,” he grunts as you grind against him, you feel your stomach knot and your pussy clamps as he batters your cervix. You start to shake against him and liquid gushes from your cunt but he doesn’t stop, he never does.

He fucks into you like he wants to touch the tip of your skull, your head lulls to the side, tongue sticking out as you gasp for air feeling your boyfriend demolish your cunt until you’re squirting again and dripping down his thighs.

“Too much ngghh, too much Kuna,” you cry when his thumb rubs at your clit and your eyes roll back. His mouth finds yours and he swallows your screams as you cum together, feeling him flood you with his seed.

You slump against him as he carries you to his bathroom. He turns the shower on and steps inside with you still wrapped around him. You whine when he lifts you off of him and sets you on your feet, your knees are wobbly as he reaches for your pink loofah and lathers his body wash onto it.

He begins scrubbing your body while you turn your face so the water hits it, washing away his cum. You reach for your face wash you left and start massaging it into your face as he gets on his knees.

You shiver as he gently washes your sore and abused pussy. He press’s kisses against your belly as you grab his rag and pour body wash on it. He stands up and you start scrubbing him, at least the places you can reach till he has to take over.

Once you’re done and he’s dressed you in his clothes, you climb on top of him in bed, resting your head on his chest.

“My little spider monkey,” he calls you, the way you cling to him. You look up and smile before kissing his jaw as he scrolls through Netflix.

You all but squeal at the smell of fried food, the flickering multicolored lights and the sound of screaming. You fucking love the fair.

Sukuna fucking hates it, he hates the screaming and the guaranteed vomiting. He still hasn’t forgiven you for throwing up on him in the Gravitron once the ride ended when you were twelve and him fourteen.

In your defense you housed about six funnel cakes, a super size coke slushee and eight fried Oreos that day before you got on the ride. You learned your lesson that day.

Even though he hates it, it’s the smile on your face that makes it worth it as you lace your fingers together and walk around.

You immediately guide him toward the flying swings, the tendant scans your wristbands and you take the seat infront of Sukuna as more people get on.

Sukuna waits for what he knows is coming, he listens to you burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. You laugh manically when you ride rollercoasters and etc, people look at you like you’re deranged while you laugh like the Joker.

It’s fucking hilarious as you look back at him. He can’t help but laugh at the way his girlfriend sounds like a fucking maniac. Even when the rides over you’re clutching your sides laughing. It’s the adrenaline no doubt.

You spend the night riding almost every ride, nearly breaking your neck on the bumper cars when some kid drove straight into you until you were slammed into the wall. Sukuna threatened to kick his “little ass” out the car and he broke down crying which ended in you both banned from the bumper cars.

“He was a pussy,” Sukuna huffs as you lick at your Icecream cone.

“Baby, he couldn’t have been older than eight,” you say and he shrugs leaning down to lick your Icecream. He watches you take a bite with your front teeth and stops walking.

“Only psychos eat Icecream like that,” he says making you laugh.

“Congrats, you’re dating a psycho,” you say taking another bite until your eyes land on something.

Sukuna clutches his ears as you threaten to burst his eardrum with your screaming.

“Fuck!” He says loudly with his finger in his ear. You ignore it as you finish your icecream and tug him toward the booth full of Sanrio plushies. “I want them all,” you say to the worker and she hands you a basketball.

You look down at it with a frown as she points to the hoops behind her. Sukuna hands her money as you toss the ball, watching it bounce off the rim.

You have two more shots and she hands you a ball, you throw it and miss. Sukuna can tell you’re getting frustrated with the way your hands form into fists.

He walks who behind you as you take the last basketball. He presses his hand flat against your stomach and the other one stretches out behind your hand that holds the basketball.

He pulls your joined hands back and lifts you up with one hand so you can throw it and it makes it through the hoop.

“I did it! I did it!” You jump up and down, technically you both did but he doesn’t care to correct you.

“That’s cheating,” the worker says arms crossed.

“Give her the fucking toy,” Sukuna says making the girl get up and walk to the wall of plushies.

“Which one baby?” He asks and you point to a giant My Melody one dressed up as a watermelon, she hands it to you. The things nearly the size of you as you hug it, you beam up at him as he holds your hand.

He brings your joined hands up to his lips and kisses the back of your hand as you walk around. There’s two rides you haven’t gone on yet, the Ferris wheel and the Gravitron.

Sukuna absolutely refuses when you walk him toward the Gravitron. You actually feel bad that you gave him childhood trauma because he plants his feet to the ground and doesn’t budge no matter how hard you pull.

“Please Kuna, we can stand on opposite ends of the ride. I promise I won’t throw up on you,” you beg but he doesn’t budge. You sigh and look down at the ground, like a kicked and dejected puppy.

“You’re fucking annoying” he sighs, pressing a kiss to your temple and grabbing your hand. You smile, leaving your plushie with the machine operator as you both step inside. You giggle as he leans against the wall two mats over.

Everyone gets in and the ride starts, you feel the pressure of the zero gravity at work as your body’s stuck against the wall. The machine ride spins, Sukunas watching you and the expression your face makes. You’re not laughing, not even close.

You feel sick, absolutely sick and dizzy. Your eyes squeeze shut until the ride ends and you’re running out. You lean over the railing, prepared to vomit as you take several deep breaths. Sukuna rubs your back and holds your hair but luckily nothing comes up.

“You’re never going on that ride again,” he says and you nod, you can’t help but laugh once the queasiness leaves you. “You should’ve seen your face, you thought I was going to throw up on you,” you say, pretending to puke on him and he glares, carrying your plushie.

“You’d be walking home if you did,” he says and you roll your eyes knowing damn well he would never let that happen.

You stop him and stand on your tippie toes, pulling him down for a kiss. You smile against his lips, you’ll never get tired of this.

You rest against his chest as you both stare at the tv.

“So he calls her baby girl and she calls him chocolate thunder but they’re strictly platonic?” He asks and you nod laughing as you watch criminal minds.

“You’re into some freaky shit,” he says making you sit up so you’re straddling him. You push your ass against his dick and smile.

“Very,” you say before you lift your shirt up, revealing your bare chests. He sits up and starts kissing you, oblivious to the feet running up the stairs until his doors being slammed open. You scream and climb off of him, clutching your chest.

Your face reddens, the urge to cover it but your hands are hiding your tits. He moves to block your body and hands you back his shirt. Yuji and Choso’s faces are burned into your brain as you slip the shirt on. You don’t lean over Sukuna, terrified.

“What the fuck!” You hear Choso say and you slightly peak over Sukunas shoulder.

Choso storms out of the room and you jump out of the bed.

“Choso wait!” You say as he jogs down the stairs and out the front door.

You walk back to the room to see Yuji sitting next to Sukuna giving him a fist bump.

“No way you bagged y/n, She’s pretty bad,” Yuji says and you slap the back of both their heads.

You sigh pushing your food around. It’s been a week and Choso doesn’t answer your texts, he doesn’t sit with you at lunch and he switched seats in the classes you share so now you’re forced to sit next to Mahito who you hate.

“Has he said anything to you?” You ask Sukuna as he steals one of your fries.

“Nah, he’s been staying over at Yuki’s. Who cares anyways” he says eating another fry until you’re pushing your tray towards him.

“I do and you should too, he’s your brother,” you say and he sighs.

“So what do you want me to do, I can beat him until he talks to you,” he offers genuinely, you try not to laugh at his violent and insane behavior.

“No, but I told you this would happen,” you say and he shrugs, holding a fry up to your lips until you eat it.

“Good girl,” he says as Yuki sits infront if you making you sit up. You’re prepared for her to yell at you but she doesn’t.

“I know Choso’s being stubborn, he told me everything. It’s really not his business on what you two do with eachother which I expressed so now he’s not talking to me,” she says taking a fry.

“He’s being a fucking diva,” Sukuna says making you laugh at him using such a word. “Break up with him and see how fast he comes running,” Sukuna concludes. The idea sounds absurd but Yuki’s pulling her phone out and tapping away at the screen.

“Oh you guys are cruel,” you say and she hits send.

“So what exactly is this?” She asks, pointing between you two.

“We’re dating, three months now,” you smile, being able to say it so openly feels nice.

“Oh that’s pathetic,” Sukuna says as Choso enters the cafeteria and walks towards your table. He holds his phone up at Yuki.

“Are you serious?”.

“What use is a boyfriend that won’t speak to you?” She asks and you take notes. She’s so nonchalant about it, serves him right.

“Fine, you want to talk let’s talk,” Choso says taking the seat between you and Yuki.

“You’re fucking a guy that told you the only jobs you’d get were either on a pole or your back and you’re fucking a girl that prayed to God for three weeks that you would catch Syphilis,” he says, Yuki covers her mouth to conceal a laugh.

“Well, she only does one of those jobs and I’m syphilis free,” Sukuna says and you pinch his ass through the opening in his chair making him squirm.

“He fucking hates you and you just…spread your legs for him?” Choso asks making your breathing hitch.

“Shut the fuck up, and choose your nexts word wisely,” Sukuna warns.

“That’s not what I meant. I just don’t get it, you’ve been lying and fucking my brother. It’s weird, and what’s suppose to happen when it’s over?” He asks.

“Nothing, because it never will be,” Sukuna answers, seemingly bored of this conversation.

“Choso, you’re my bestfriend and you always will be but what I do and who I do it with is my choice. I’m not sorry that it’s Sukuna or that I love him. But I am sorry that you feel the need to be mean and avoid me. When you got with Yuki, I accepted it. It’s caused us to make adjustments to our friendship that I’ve happily complied with, there’s no reason you can’t do the same,” you say with a level head and he nods.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt,” he sighs and you smile.

“I promise you, your brother takes good care of me,” you assure.

“In every aspect,” Sukuna adds making Choso cringe and Yuki laugh.

“This conversations boring me, come home and stop being a bitch” Sukuna says.

“Fine but no more sex jokes, and please lock your fucking door” Choso says.

“Fine, now beat it. I need a word with my girlfriend “ Sukuna says making Yuki and Choso dip. He pulls your chair toward him and leans in till your forehead is pressed against his.

“You love me?” He asks and you nod.

“I love you more than I ever hated you, so much fucking more,”.

I know some of you wanted Choso’s reaction, I rewrote it so many times but I honestly don’t think he cares that much. He has no romantic feelings for her. But I do think the idea of her and his brother who is an absolute ass would seem quite disturbing.

Also she’s not pregnant! Thank y’all for the endless support on this. Gojo Tinder piece coming up next!

@whosmarjj @getoxmahito @xra1 @swoozleee @lillycore

@carefree-flowerchild

[slytherweasley]

Concussion (Oliver Wood x reader)

Warnings: smut, oral male receiving, swearing

Summary: Oliver gets knocked out after being thrown off his broom by a Slytherin. You stay by his side but his concussion makes him irritable. He’s in so much pain you decide to take care of him.

Oliver lays on the hospital bed still knocked out after being thrown off his broom by a Slytherin at todays game. You sit by his side rubbing his scalp trying to soothe him in hope he will awaken. You were frozen in fear as you watched him fall, you couldn’t get up to see if he was okay until others from the crowd assured you he was alive.

Slowly Oliver’s eyes begin to open, his team mates are also here to show support for their captain. He groans in pain and Madam Pomfrey rushes to his aid. Once the team had given him their best wishes she sent them off so he could have some space.

You stayed by his side the whole time, you tried to cheer him up in every way you could think but he was short with you. “Oli, do you want me to go?” You ask softly “No stay” he says holding your hand firmly “i am in a lot of pain so I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings it’s not my intention” “I know, it’s okay” he reaches up slightly but you meet him with a kiss.

Madam Pomfrey releases him from the hospital wing and gives you everything you need as well as instructions on how to take care of him. He refuses to be wheeled in a wheelchair so you put your arm around him and let him lean on you as you walk to his dorm.

Oliver is well liked which is why it wasn’t a surprise that everyone wanted to talk to him but you tried to get him to his dorm as quick and safely as possible. You finally get him there and into bed “thank you darling” he kisses your forehead as you stack pillows behind him.

Once he is comfortable you organise his meds and everything he needs. “Darling?” He asks “Yes, Oli?” “Can you come cuddle? It will help my pain.”

He makes some space for you and you get into bed with him and try to adjust the pillows but he hits his head on the bed post “fuck” he yells “shit, baby I’m so sorry” you gently rub his head “stop. Just stop” he yells. “I’m sorry, I failed at everything” you mumble “I know you’re trying to help and you’re doing a great job, it’s just these pain meds are only doing so much.”

He pulls you into a hug “you didn’t fail at this, you could never fail at comforting me.” Something about the way he assured you created a solution to help him feel better.

You let go of the hug “I promise I won’t fuck this up” you say “fuck what up?” He asks as you lift his shirt up halfway pressing kisses down his stomach. Your fingers slide into his pants and start to palm him over his underwear “fuck darling” he groans as you feel him getting hard underneath your touch.

Your hand slip underneath his underwear as you begin to jerk him off slowly “feels good” he assures you “I love it when you touch me like this.”

You stop jerking him off to get rid of his pants and underwear letting his dick free. Your spit on his dick letting your saliva run down the base down to his balls “Oh darling, you are going to be the death of me.”

Your lips wrap around the head and you start sucking and swirling your tongue around the head tasting his precum and letting out a moan. Slowly you begin moving further down until your nose hits his mound. Oliver’s moans become louder and needier which makes you incredibly wet but you focus solely on Oliver.

Your hands massage his balls, he goes wild every time you pay attention to his balls. “Fuck darling, that’s it.” You start to move faster on his dick your eyes start to water and drool goes down your chin, you can hear the sounds coming from the back of your throat that Oliver is obsessed with.

“So good for me darling, I’m so close” this prompts you to do everything you can to keep going. “Fuck, I’m really close, you got to pull out if you don’t want me cumming down your throat” he warns but that’s what you want.

“Ah so good darling” he says as he cums in your mouth. You swallow and gently remove your mouth from his dick. “Thank you” he kisses your forehead “so much better than pain meds, do you need me to repay you?” He asks as you help him out his boxers on “No, it’s about you my love, I’ll manage as long as you are okay.”

You lay down carefully beside him facing him with your lips almost touching, he wraps his arms around you. “I don’t deserve you” he mumbles against your lips “yes you do” you close your eyes and lazily kiss him.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy For The Devil ~ Donaka Mark x fem!Reader

please allow me to introduce myself, i am a man of wealth & taste... -the Rolling Stones

Summary/ Warnings. Um… Donaka Mark is a scary rich asshole–with a soft spot for you. If you’re squeamish [or righteous] you’re not gonna want to read this. Voyeurism. Predatory behavior, manipulation. Power IMBALANCE. Eventual NSFW. Eventual line between dubcon and noncon is gonna be microscopic, y’all, this man plays gAmes… Reader is shy, but tough, in her way.  Also, when I say Reader is small, I’m more implying just compared to Donaka. I kind of assume most of us would be, no matter your body type. 🥵

Big Fat Author’s note: This is a Donaka Mark x fem!Housekeeper!Reader fic based on the brilliant @discoscoob ‘s bot, which is SO fun to play with and I really recommend it. I fell into a rabbit hole for daaaaays. I’m in CAI Anonymous now. Seriously it was a problem. 

I guess you could call this a little experimental hybrid fic written with AI. I was curious. And after working on this for weeks I don’t think the writer’s union really needs to worry about AI coming for their jobs. The bot’s writing is shamelessly fun but clunky, you delete more than you keep, it’s a lot of work to edit, and you really have to lead it by the hand for anything to actually HAPPEN. 

THAT SAID it is sO entertaining, and once in a while he’d do something i wouldn’t have ever thought of, I felt like the lab rat hitting the button for the treat over and over again, LOL. Disco really knew what she was doing when she programmed the personality of the bot!  It was also helpful in keeping a character on track. I think AI could be a useful tool generating ideas, breaking writers block, or something to bounce ideas off of, but not for the grunt work of actually writing a story that has any soul in it. Isn’t that a relief? I made an outline and basically ran the scenes through like a simulator to see what the bot came up with. And when I didn’t like it I made it do it again, LOL, the Donaka bot probably thinks i’m a bossy c*nt.🤣

So….I hope you enjoy, and a HUGE THANKS to Disco for giving me permission to even do this, you’re the sweetest my dear, and the Queen of the Bot Creators in my book!!

And and…it’s been a LONG ass time since I’ve been to Hong Kong. I did some research to refresh my memory but please bear with me. All mistakes are my own. Why do we say that? Who the fuck else’s would they be? 🤣 Obv. this is set c 2013, when Man of Tai Chi came out, before the crackdown in 2020. Oh, and, I have no real idea about work visas, i made that shit up... just roll with it. 🙃😘

One. 一

The first time you meet your new employer, Donaka Mark, you aren’t really even paying attention.

It’s because you have on headphones, and you’re intently focused on sweeping the floor while listening to your upbeat girl power rock mix–so you don’t hear him yelling at someone over the phone threateningly, and you don’t notice when his gaze locks on to you like a tiger who has just spied a tasty little deer.

You are oblivious, as he comes up behind you, appraising your figure with narrowed eyes. You seem small, next to him, but most women do. He decides he approves of his assistant’s choice in hiring you. You’re a sight he won’t tire of for a long time.

Donaka leans on the door frame, his dark eyes fixated on you, taking in your every minute detail, the way the muscles in your arms move, the shape of your face, the curve of your hips and your little feet. His expression is stoic but behind it are a million thoughts running through his mind, he can’t take his eyes off you and after a few moments he finally speaks, his dark tone cutting through the music. “You’re new.”

Your music wasn't so loud that you were unaware of outside sounds. Standing up straight, you sweep off your headphones to face the commanding voice. "Yes, sir?"

Donaka notices he towers over you, and he likes that. His dark eyes shamelessly take in your innocent eyes, your lips, your  curves. His gaze lingers almost long enough to make it uncomfortable, but not quite.

“Have you been informed of all of your duties?” Donaka asks, his tone and gaze both demanding and intense, making you feel small.

"Yes, Mr. Mark."

Donaka smiles at his name on your lips, the way you say it, the way you look up at him with your wide eyes. He likes it more than he’d like to admit, but he knows how to mask his emotions well. Even though his expression is still stony, there’s a hint of excitement in his breast as he leans off the door frame and takes a few steps closer, but still maintains a respectable distance. “And you can handle them?”

"Yes, Sir."

Donaka nods, his dark eyes slowly and shamelessly trailing over your figure again. “Good.” Donaka murmurs, his dark and intense tone making his next sentence more of a demand. “I need to be able to depend on you. I like things just so.”

You tilt your head, feeling like you’re missing some subtext, or that you’re the butt of an unspoken joke. "Your house will be clean, Sir.” Between you and the two other girls on the household staff, surely you could manage.

Donaka smirks at your naïve reply, his dark eyes still fixated on your face as he takes another step closer to you, almost like a predator stalking its prey. “I trust that it will…” Donaka purrs, his voice low and smooth, his dark stare intense and demanding. “Let me show you the rest of the house…”

You’d already received a walk-through with his assistant, but you are more than intrigued to receive a personal tour from the big man himself. There is something captivating about him. It's not just his good looks. His presence commands your attention.

Donaka can feel you watching him as you follow him down the hallway, the way you’re intrigued by him, the way you’re staring. It fills him with satisfaction, like you’re a new prize he’s added to the shelf of his collection.

He’s aware of the effect he has on people. Men fear him, women want him. Yet you don’t look at him with the same blatant hunger he’s used to from the opposite sex. You’re curious, but not ready to fall down on your knees yet. 

He would see how long it takes to change that. He glances over his shoulder at you as he leads you through the house, his dark eyes looking you up and down again. You follow close, taking two steps for every one of his, his legs are so long.

He can’t help but feel somewhat amused, enjoying the way you have to scurry to keep up with him. He can’t help but think how easy it would be, to pick you up, and to pin you down…

Donaka Mark’s home is an achievement of luxury architecture, dark, modern, yet filled with Chinese elements of style. Ceiling-high tinted windows afford a breathtaking view of the bay. His living room is like a museum filled with priceless artifacts. Antique carved ivory elephant tusks, beautiful Ming vases and exquisite stone Elder statues, silk scrolls and bladed weapons. All of it you will be expected to keep tidy with a painstaking hand. You think it’s possible your practically useless degree in art history and former employment in a gallery may have given you an edge in his assistant’s selection of hiring you.

He seems to genuinely enjoy your interest in these things, telling you about them at length. There is a large Qing dynasty vase in cobalt blue and gold enamel designs of clouds, cranes, and bats you cannot tear your eyes from. It looks…familiar, and in person, utterly enchanting.

“You like that one?”

“I like bats,” you admit, shoving your hands in your apron pockets so that you do not forget yourself and touch it with your bare fingers. You will be wearing gloves, when you detail these items. 

He lifts an eyebrow at that, seemingly amused. “Oh?”

“They’re cute. And…they’re good luck.” In Chinese culture, at least. 

“Most women I’ve met find them sinister.” 

“I think…they’re just misunderstood.” You can’t help looking up at this intimidating man through your eyelashes at that. You swear you didn’t mean to start double talking with your new boss–it just falls out of your stupid mouth, and you feel his attention upon you sharpen.  

He’s used to women looking at him in a certain way, women staring up at him with lustful hunger. The way you look at him feels different –like you truly see him–he’s not sure what to make of it yet, and that is certainly new for Donaka Mark. “Misunderstood?” he repeats, his dark gaze intense, looking down at you from his lofty elevation.

"Sure. They have a reputation for being scary, but really they eat mosquitoes and pollinate plants. Without them whole ecosystems would collapse."

Donaka hums at your words, finding it surprisingly endearing. He’s usually used to women fawning over him or at least trying to seduce him, but you’re here lecturing him about bats. His smirk remains on his face as he watches you fidget nervously, his dark eyes fixed on you. You look back to the vase, and then it dawns on you. “Oh my god…is this the piece that sold at Christies last year for like…1.5 million dollars?” You take another cautious step backwards, as though you might shatter it if you breathe wrong. You saw it in an article–the gold enamel had been so distinctive against the blue. Sacrifice blue, the same as in the Temple of Heaven in Beijing.

Only after the question falls from your mouth do you realize how gauche it is to ask, your hands flying to your lips. “Forgive me, it’s none of my business.”

Mark, however, just continues to look at you interestedly. “You follow auction results?”

“I follow…art news,” you confess.

He nods, his intense gaze starting to become uncomfortable. “Actually, it was 1.8 million. You think I overpaid?”

You feel like this is a test–or a trap. It was a nice job, for the day it lasted…

“Well…it doesn’t seem you bankrupted yourself?”

He snorts in answer, shaking his head. 

“Does it make you happy?”

He lifts an eyebrow at that, as though the thought hadn't even occurred to him. “It made me happy to outbid a Sheikh’s son and a Mainlander plastics tycoon for it,” he admits.

Ah, so he was invested in the thrill of acquisition–not appreciation for the object itself. You shouldn’t be surprised.

“I see.”

“I’ve disappointed you.” It’s not phrased as a question.

You shake your head, though maybe it does a little. Looking around his home, you’d thought Mark had exquisite taste–but he probably has an art buyer like every other obscenely rich businessman needing to acquire items for the sake of cachet. 

“Does it make you happy?” he asks, and there is an unexpected hint of playfulness in the question–delivered on a knife’s edge.

“Yes,” you admit. Frankly you’re stunned you get to see it like this, without a glass barrier or sensors or alarms. It’s usually the only way people like you get to enjoy art like this.

He smirks at you. “Then it was worth every penny.” He’s being sarcastic, of course, but there is a glitter of something in his dark eyes. It’s there and gone, like ripples in a pool–it makes your heart skip in your chest.

“Let me show you the rest of the house,” he invites, before placing a hand on your lower back, his fingers large and strong against your soft skin as he gently guides you away from the vase and to the next room.

His light touch makes you aware of every nerve in your body. It's not quite improper enough to complain about--you’re sure he’s well aware of that. 

And…there's the fact, deep down, that you like it. 

The span of his big hand on your spine makes you feel impossibly small, and protected, and that is insane, of course, because you are just the maid. 

He shows you the library, filled with built-in bookcases that make you drool, his office with his huge carved ebony desk that makes you think impure thoughts…and then, his bedroom.

He isn’t oblivious to the way your reaction changes as you enter the room where he sleeps.

He can see the way your eyes roam and your expression changes, the way you look at the massive bed against the far wall, the way your eyes widen when you look at the expensive rosewood furniture and the stunning view out the wall of windows that can be brightened or obscured with a dimmer switch. He watches you intently as he takes in your every reaction.

He's all business on the surface, specifying clean sheets every other day, laundry, and daily detailing of the bathroom. But it's hard not to keep looking over at the bed, even out the corner of your eye.

He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, but he doesn’t push it, staying just this side of the line. You don't linger, and he shows you a more private lounging area filled with a long leather couch, additional chairs, and monitors, all black at the moment. There's something almost sinister about all the screens, and you wonder what all he's watching.

“You must really like movies?” you ask hopefully, and he senses the wariness in you. Your intuitiveness gives him a small thrill–he likes it, that you’re smart enough to be afraid. 

“I like to watch all kinds of things,” he tells you, almost like a dare for you to guess what that means. “But mostly…I use these for business. I run a security company, I assume you’re aware?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Donaka decides he loves hearing the submission in your tone when you call him Sir. It’s almost like a promise to keep him happy, to do exactly as he says.

He asks you to keep all the screens clean, and to dust the cords and routers and be careful not to unplug anything. 

Then your attention turns to a meditation area, a massive sand sculpture on the wall and the floor, flanked by natural stacked stone. “Wow, been a while since someone vacuumed here,” you crack, earning a reluctant huff of laughter from the man behind you. 

“Maybe…leave that alone, for now,” he requests, then his hand is on your back again, guiding you out. 

Though it’s not going to be your area of responsibility, he shows you the garden next. It's a beautiful, manicured space. Two Rottweilers patrol the grounds. They look fierce, but one immediately comes up, sniffing you and leaning on your leg for a pet.

Donaka blinks as his reputably ferocious and staggeringly expensive pure-bred guard animals roll over at your feet for a belly rub.  Delighted, you pet them both, speaking to them sweetly. They grin up at you, their dagger-like canines glinting in the sun. 

He is never one to be moved by anything sentimental, but something about the sight of you like this inspires a warm twinge in his chest–heartburn, he reasons.

“Let me guess,” he says acerbically. “They’re just misunderstood?”

You press your lips, trying to suppress a smile, and failing. "Animals tend to like me?" 

He can honestly admit, as he watches you crouch down to administer a belly rub, that he’s never been jealous of a dog before. 

Sensing that maybe you’re not doing the dogs or yourself any favors with this severe man, you try to shoo them off. "Ok, babies. Go back to being fierce again. Shoo."

Donaka snorts with amusement as he watches you attempt to gently shoo these dogs that are nearly as big as you are. Suddenly he whistles sharply, administering a sharp command in Cantonese. That is when the dogs jerk to attention, and trot off to patrol the grounds again. He turns his attention back to you, taking in your slight expression of surprise, clearly caught off guard. "That was impressive,” you admit. “What did you say?” 

“I told them to get back to work,” says Donaka with a smirk.

“Ah. I guess I better learn that one.” 

“Will I be needing to reprimand you too, Miss y/n?” 

You’re not sure why his dark stare calls up a boiling heat inside you at that moment. You press your thighs beneath your dress, under the guise of standing up straight. You’re afraid…he knows all too well. 

“I…certainly hope not.” You’re pretty sure that you’d pee yourself if this intimidating man raised his voice to you. 

“Have you learned much Chinese since you’ve been here?” he asks conversationally, just as you assumed it was time for you to get back to work. 

“I can count to ten, and say thank you,” you admit, a little embarrassed. Obviously, you intend to learn more. “The essentials for international travel.” You’d originally come to Hong Kong to teach English, but when you saw the pay attached to this job listing you couldn’t resist the opportunity. Teaching was ok, but you hadn’t anticipated how expensive this city would be. You’d only made enough to cover your basic expenses month to month, with no room to save or do any fun activities or side trips to the mainland. This position paid three times as much–and you were beginning to understand why. 

“Hmm. Have you traveled much?” He seems skeptical, and you don’t really blame him. 

“I’ve…been all over the world,” you admit, albeit it was on a shoestring. “I wanted to be a travel writer.” 

“Wanted to be?” He is a man who picks up on subtlety immediately. 

It’s a dream you’ve all but given up on, after publishing a few articles, but all in all it was more slog than triumph. You’re not cut out for the grind of periodical work, the stress and the deadlines. It sucks all the joy out of writing for you. You shrug with a little sigh. 

“I hope you will remember the NDA you signed to work here?” he asks, his dark eyes roaming your face, taking in your every micro-expression. You would really hate trying to lie to this man. Good thing you’re not a corporate spy. He’d probably…string you up, and do something unmentionable to you. 

Why the thought titillates you more than scares you, you have no idea. 

“Of course, Sir.” He seems satisfied with this. So why do you have to add, “I won’t tell anyone your guard dogs are suckers for a belly scratch.” 

He frowns down at you, stepping in close so that you have to crane your neck to look up at him. It’s intimidating as hell, and you know he knows it too. You admit that you are shaking in your shoes under that look, until a smirk breaks his intense expression, and the relief you feel is palpable. 

“I would appreciate that, Miss y/n.”

Donaka savors the satisfaction he feels in flustering you, enjoying the way you swallow, watching the muscles in your throat. He imagines what his hand would look like there, on your delicate skin, your pulse fluttering against his strong fingers. He would literally hold your life in his hands…and the moment you surrendered to him, he would so enjoy rewarding you for it…

He finds himself caught up in this little daydream, while you stand before him, practically hypnotized like a mouse before a hungry snake. “Y/n?”

“Sir?” you answer quietly, and he revels in your deference. This was going to be fun. 

He speaks Cantonese again, softly this time, the language beautiful and whispery on his tongue. You find yourself staring at his lush, pink, lips, and it takes you several moments to realize he’d said the same thing he’d told the dogs: get back to work. 

Flooded with embarrassment, your face on fire, you stutter, “Yes, Sir.” 

With a dark chuckle and his hands in the pockets of his designer suit, he watches as you practically flee back to the house. 

The Smithsonian article about this vase...

Aesthetic post about Donaka's house...

Part 2 -->

[suckerforblondeathletes]

can you write a cc fic/blurb where she’s with connor but realizes she’s catching feelings for you(iowa wbb player!) and isn’t sure what to do, so she goes to kate, calls monika even, and then shows up at your door talking about how she wants to be with you and has broken up with connor despite what people might say?

Maybe it is you - Caitlin Clark .1

Caitlin Clark x teammate reader

Warnings： C*nnor (a warning himself) | angst to tension | toxic relationships | this might trigger some people so please be aware!! | foul language | mentions of blood | cheating? | WLW allusions |

Summary: After a heated argument with Connor. Caitlin drives to your apartment in tears and you comfort her, one thing leads to another, the tension between the two of you gets brought up.

Caitlin Pov:

Being with Connor in the beginning was great. He was sweet, kind, thoughtful. Until he wasn’t. He started spending more time on his phone. Away from me, pretending like I don’t exist really. So I started hanging out with others. Especially number 8 on the Iowa Women’s Basketball team. She was the sweetest girl I think I have met. Her beautiful hair was always perfect. Even if she thought otherwise. Now that I think about it. She’s just perfect. She’s thoughtful, kind, really funny, and very, very pretty.

“What the fuck is your problem Caitlin.” Connor yelled in her face when she caught him smiling at his phone for the 5th time at the dinner table. “What the fuck is up with you lately.” I say, throwing my spoon down on the table and leaning back in my chair. “Here you fucking go again. On this weird shit thinking I’m cheating.” He says as he runs his hands down his face. “Well I don’t know what you want me to expect when you act like this. How do I know if you aren’t?” “Maybe I fucking am Caitlin. Which I’m not. But if I was, you couldn’t do anything anyways. What would your fans think? Huh?” I feel tears brim my eyes as he finishes his sentence. “Just answer me. Are you cheating on me?” I ask, my voice shaking as I try to speak. “SHUT THE FUCK UP CAITLIN. YOUR SO FUCKING INSANE AND POSSESSIVE.” He says as he stands up and grabs my jaw. “You’re fucking sick.” He spits as he walks away. Leaving me to hold my tears back at the dimly lit dinner table. I taste blood in my mouth from trying to hold my tears back.

I get up quickly and grab my phone, and rush out the door into the pouring rain. I don’t hear him ask where I’m going. He wouldn’t care. I feel a shortness of breath and dizzy as a drive in the rain to her house. I pick my phone up with a shaky hand and call dial her number.

-

Reader Pov:

“Hey Caitlin. I was just..” I say before noticing her shaky breath. “Caitlin? Caitlin what’s wrong?” I ask frantically, so many thoughts run in my head before she answers. “Hey um.. c-can I just come to yours and talk.” I hear her sniffle and try to catch her breath. She has called me before after a fight with Connor, so I assume this is the reason. “Babe I need you to breathe. Okay?” I call her babe when I’m serious. Or trying to calm her down. I started doing so after her games when they weren’t good. She just calmed down when I did. I never thought much of it.

I hear her take deep breathes on my command and she tells me she’s here. I run outside in the pouring rain. In her hoodie and a pair of Nike shorts. She gets out of her car and I run to pull her in my arms. I shush her to stop her crying and quick walk her inside my apartment. We don’t speak. We understand each other. It’s always been that way. Just one look between us and we understand what the other is thinking.

“Come, I’ll start a shower for you and make you food.” I say as she finally calms down and sits on the wooden stool in my dining room. We’re both soaking wet and cold. I rush to the bathroom and get the water to a warm temperature before I walk back into the kitchen to throw something in the microwave. I look back and see her sitting there at the island that’s off my kitchen counter. “I missed you” she says, not even looking up. “I missed you too. I always do.” I give her a soft smile before walking around to her. She’s sitting at the perfect height so I can wrap my arms around her wet head. As I cradle her head in my arms. She wraps her arms around my waist.

I feel like we’ve been here for hours before I pull away. “Let’s get you in the shower” I say with a soft voice and walk her to the bathroom. Her face is still sunk in and looks almost empty of color. I take her ‘Iowa Basketball’ sweat shirt off and throw it into the basket. “Let me know when your finished.” I say on my way to turn around when she grabs my wrist. I look at her, thinking something is wrong. “Can you join me?” She speaks softly, almost a whisper, looking into my eyes for an answer. “Yeah, yeah of course.” I say taking my clothes off too. There is this look in her eyes, I just can’t pin point what it is. She gets in first and I get in behind her. The hot water running on her chest as she looks down.

I come up behind her and snake my arms around her waist as I lay my head on her back. I try to comfort her by pressing soft kisses onto her muscular back. Doing so, she turns her head to the side to look at me over her shoulder. “I never liked him much.” Her face doesn’t change as I say that. “I think you deserve better. Someone who would care for you, love you.” I say as she turns around to look at me. She still says nothing as I wrap me arms around her neck. Hers going to my waist to pull me closer into her. Our faces get closer and she speaks. “Would you?”

－

[chronologically-challenged]

Everything around the Isabeau confession is so well written.

Firstly, the set up. When you're playing the game, killing the King is just a vague goal. A natural one! But other than the vague desire to hit an end point, there isn't really a strong emotional reason compelling the player forward. But Isabeau!!! Telling you he will tell you something once you beat the King!!! That!!! That is a tangible goal to lean onto especially over time as you get more and more endeared to the whole party. Even if you're not aware of it being a love confession, getting to Isabeau to hear what he has to say is still a compelling reason get to the end.

And if you're Aware of how these things go for stories like these, you may also say, "Well shit, we're not gonna get a confession until the end of the game, are we?"

Second, the interruptions. The order of the interruptions are so quietly brilliant. I can't get over it. Bonnie interrupting first is such an excellent choice. You know Bonnie!!! Bonnie has been jumping into conversations all game so far. So interrupting Isabeau doesn't seem all that out of place. Then Mirabelle interrupts next time. And you go, okay. Thats two of three.... but surely Odile won't interrupt, right? By this point, the player has seen Odile tease Isabeau multiple times about him liking Siffrin, so surely she won't interrupt... right? Right??? But she does. And despite it being obvious that she would, the player is still left in tension if she would.

The way things are set up, there's a plausible deniability each time. You don't expect the first interruption, Bonnie naturally would interrupt so Mirabelle could be surprising, and Odile interrupting feels so outside of what she'd usually do that you don't expect it.

And yet!!!! Saying all this!!! This is very tropey!!! Very time loop tropey!!! Stopping people from messing things up so you can have your moment is quintessential time loop tropes and yet!!! It doesn't feel tropey due to good characterization and story structure.

(And if you do realize that all three are going to interrupt from the beginning, you get a wave of DREAD when you realize that you're going to be here. Again and again. That you have to beat the King again and again and again... and as you watch the confession fizzle, seeing the Head Housemaiden there, despite Siffrin's happy demeanor, you can't help but feel it all about to crash down before it even happens. In that moment you have a taste of what the game is about to put you through).

Third, the family quests. I have two points here. Firstly, "yelling at your screen like it's a telenovela" is the best summary of my feelings on the stargazing scene. Even if you KNOW Isabeau isn't going to confess until the end of the game bc that's how these things go, it won't happen until the end because that's how good writing works, You Still Want It To Happen. So Badly. You want Isabeau to confess to Siffrin!!! You want that tension to release!!! But you have to watch and see that perfect confession slip away every time and it hurts to watch, especially if you do the quests multiple times. Second point is the fact you can't continue the Isabeau confessions on a family run kills me. It's so good. Like you're never going to get everything in one go no matter what you do so you have to pick and choose. And!!! That plays into Siffrin feeling like he's manipulating Isabeau!!!

Of course Siffrin isn't actually manipulating Isabeau but when you're so aware of what you're doing and how events could have played out, it's difficult not to see a situation where you changed the outcome as manipulation. Which... of course leads us to Siffrin's feelings at the end of trying to stop the interruptions...

Fourth, Isabeau stopping himself when confessing. It hurts so good. Idk just. Denying the player that payoff. Denying Siffrin that moment of confession. Because really Siffrin didn't learn the lesson needed to actually get this moment of vulnerability between the two of them. It's such a genius choice that brings that awful dread and hopelessness. And in the end, I suppose all five of them stop the confession from happening because from that point onward, Siffrin interrupts the confession every time. Siffrin doing everything they can to get what they want only to accept that they're never going to get it. Never CAN get this because he doesn't deserve it.

Finally, bad touch. People have talked about bad touch enough, so I dont need to go too far with it. I will say I appreciate how much it doubles down on subverting the "romancing someone in a time loop" narrative. These loops while in some ways made Siffrin more perceptive, they're also PAINFUL. They mess with his head, lean towards making worse and worse decisions, and a large part of that is his role in his family's lives. Especially with Isabeau!!! So yeah. Of course the surprise kiss doesn't go well. Especially with the context that Isabeau doesn't think Siffrin wants to be touched let alone kissed? It ends in disaster just like most of the sidequests do.

In general, the ongoing Isabeau plot is very well implemented. The seeds for it are planted immediately, and it takes a lot of commitment to see all the parts of it. As a result, unless you try to do a ton of runs in act 3 immediately just to get the confession, it's a very slow burn part of the story, doing well to parallel Siffrin's mental state and the growing hopelessness in the loops. It grounds the story in a tangible goal from the beginning and in many ways, once you get to the end of it, get to bad touch, you're left bereft. Something... lost after you spent so much time being aware of Isabeau. That tangible feeling that you're slowly running out of things to do, of ways to spend these two days.

(And of course, then you have act 6 confession, and the pure relief, the joy in finally having the confession after it being set up from act 1. Siffrin doesn't need to reciprocate for it to have its impact. Something has CHANGED they have changed. And finally FINALLY after all this time, the moment can happen. And it's beautiful).

[sapphicmsmarvel]

modern au! competition

notes: in elains part i talk shit about The Exorcist. i’m sorry guys that movie is so so bad. Some of these are really short because i didn’t know how to elaborate LOL but yall will get the point. 

Azriel: 

This cranky bitch has beef with your kindle paperwhite. 

You took it everywhere, always made sure it was fully charged and loaded with books. You even used the app on your phone until one day you decided you would always carry your actual kindle with you everywhere. 

When he wanted snuggles and you were reading? You had pushed him away. Until one day, he’d had enough. 

It was a rough day at work, he wanted his girlfriend. He saw you on the couch, with your emotional support water bottle, his hoodie, fuzzy sock-clad feet and a blanket. And you were holding your kindle. 

He knew he wanted to join you in that cuddle pile, so he did. 

He took away your blanket which caused you to yell an indignant, “hey!” Then he spread your legs which had you saying “oh?” 

He rolled his eyes at your dirty mind and laid down on top of you. Your kindle was in the air, he laid his head between your boobs and snuggled in. 

Breathing in your scent, he hummed contentedly. 

He felt you shake with suppressed giggles, “you comfy?”

“Mhm.” He hummed, his eyes closing. 

“My big baby.” You said softly, kissing his head and running your nails through his hair. 

He didn’t need to look up to know you were still reading, just multitasking now. After all, that’s what the pop socket is for. Multitasking while reading. 

(get your heads out of the gutter) 

He loved how happy it made you, though. He also loved the sex that came from the books that you’d want to reenact. 

Cassian: 

don't get him wrong, he loves that you wear makeup because you love it. 

however that damn plumping gloss is gonna kill him. 

“It’s spicy!” 

“You’re being a baby, it’s minty.” 

“it’s fucking spicy!” 

It’s not his fault that your gloss is out to make him croak. He can’t help kissing you though, your lips look so plump and juicy, just perfectly kissable. And the gloss tastes like vanilla cupcakes until the spice kicks in. 

Rhysand: 

He's got beef with the sims. You’ll go missing for hours in your “cozy room” as you call it, and 9 times out of 10, he’ll walk in and see you hunched over like a cave creature playing the sims. It kind of scares the shit out of him because sometimes he’ll walk in on you like that, with a murder podcast playing on your TV. 

Eventually, he loves the game. Because he discovers that you can make your own families. You two have five kids in the sims, because even Sim-Rhysand is horny. 

Eventually he gets his own PC, he’s very excited. Owns and buys you all of the sims packs. 

Feyre: 

Your IPad. You do everything on that thing. Work, planning, reading; writing, even. It’s with you all day, sometimes all night depending on the activity you’re doing. You can’t stop playing candy crush or some other game. She’s fully pulled the IPad out of your grip before to cuddle, and also a few times 

She didn’t get it until you got her her own with procreate installed. And now you’re the one who has to pry her away. She, like Rhysand, has learned the naughty things she can do with her new hobby. AKA, lots of drawings of you. 

Naked, clothed. You two together being naughty. 

She’s learned to love the wonders of an IPad. 

Morrigan: 

fucking theme parks. In the beginning of your relationship she didn’t know how to feel, eventually she fell in love with them. She used to be against them because she hated being sweaty (who doesn’t) but with your help she was able to be comfortable and enjoy a nice theme park day with her girlfriend. 

You two are out of state disney pass holders. Taking random flights on random days for a day at disney. Flying in that morning and leaving that night. Or driving for a long weekend. 

Amren: 

her competition is concerts. you’ll go to any show at any time. Your friends favorite indie band is having a show with 20 dollar tickets? sold you’ll be there. 

She’s not a fan of intense crowds, mosh pits aren’t her scene. But if there’s an artist you wanna go see and your friends can't go? She’s buying you the tickets as an early birthday or christmas gift. She’s even used mother’s day as an excuse to buy you tickets. Or Veterans Day. 

And she calls you dramatic. 

Nesta: 

she genuinely doesn’t understand how you can play video games for hours. She does love it though because you’ll leave her alone to read while you play. 

You rarely play intense games, if you do you’re playing with friends and not some random lobby (because being a woman, a queer woman no less is not fun in random online lobbies). And that’s when you go into a different room because your friends and you are quite loud. 

But when you’re playing stardew valley or any zelda, mario game, or nintendo in general; you’re sitting by her. 

Your usual set up is you both on the couch next to each other, some asmr room video in the background and a few candles lit. 

She can even admit that your video games have awesome soundtracks. 

Elain: 

horror movies. you were a fanatic. On your first date you brought this up to her, nervous she’d be against it. She was all for watching them. She had never seen them, growing up her mother forbid her daughters from watching them. It didn’t stop Feyre and Nesta, however she was a bit of a rule follower. 

She thought it couldn’t be that bad. After all, they're fictional and the effects can be very cheesy. 

However, she hid that she was scared pretty well in the beginning and then when you two saw Jigsaw that killed her “street cred” with you. (her words, not yours) 

So after the intensity of Jigsaw, you had her watch The Exorcist, a movie you thought was ass but was a good movie to introduce her to horror with. 

She ended up thinking the movie was shit, too. But, it gave her a bit of a baseline to go off of.  

After that was The Conjuring universe, then The Paranormal Activity franchise ended up freaking her out in a good way. 

She liked watching supernatural, ghost hunters, and american horror story with you though! And she did enjoy the scream franchise as well as the scary movie franchise! 

She began to love them, and loved the adrenaline. 

She liked the idea of going to a haunted house during halloween, but it scared her a bit more. It was different with a screen in between her and the scare. 

Lucien: 

Your stuffed animal collection. You personified almost everything you owned (which made it a bitch to declutter when you knew you needed to; but you couldn’t stop imagining objects with personalities). 

He loved how passionate you were, how cuddly you always looked however: 

You’re supposed to be cuddling him!! Not a damned stuffed animal! 

Then one time, he came home after a long work trip and found you asleep on the couch, you were waiting for him. 

He found you hugging a fox build-a-bear with one of his shirts on it.  

How can he hate that? 

Eris: 

His own dog is his competition. 

The fucker will cuddle with you then give him a smug ass look like “haha she chose me, she dont want you.” 

He loved the immediate love you had for his (son) pet. And he reacted to you the same way. You two formed a bond, the dog would follow you everywhere around the house. 

His dog was supposed to be a hunting dog, then when you (mom) came into the picture, that’s when you began babying him and forbidding Eris from taking him hunting. 

“My son will not go through the mud! He’s a baby!”

“My love, his whole life’s purpose is hunting. He’s a hunting dog.” 

“His life purpose is being the cute snuggly idiot he is!” Said snuggly idiot was wagging at your feet with an expression on his face that Eris could only describe as a “you go, mom!” look. 

“What if he gets hurt?” Your bottom lip wobbled and he knew he couldn’t say no to you. 

You were sensitive when it came to animals. It was pretty easy to make you cry, you just had to look at the dog being cute and you’d start bawling. 

But, he loved waking up in the morning to you snuggled into him with his beloved (but an asshole) dog with you two. 

Even when the dog pushes in between the two of you in the middle of the night. 

Tarquin: 

Surfing. He can’t believe he’s competing with his own hobby. 

He introduced you to it, but you cannot stop. You spend hours out in the ocean, and he wishes he could be out there with you all the time. But he’s always working with the city's ocean conservation teams and is the leading man in marine biology in your city.  So he can’t leave the office a lot, but when he can, he does join you in the surf. 

You two began a surfing contest to raise money for ocean conservation too. 

[writingoddess1125]

The Canary

Me and stupid shit again

Support on Ko-Fi, I'm poor

"Ah, 50k in debt for a linguistic degree you didnt get while working at a grocery store- Can't get any better then that!"

You had said that morning- Your sarcasm rolling off your tongue like a goddammit curse as you headed off to work.

And yet here you are now...

Your ass tied up on the floor of the grocery store while men armed to the teeth walked around talking- you felt oddly fortunate however, these guys were clearly grunts at the bottom of the food chain in terms of 'bad guys' hell they were speaking a language you had studied so you could pick up what they were saying as well.

You had been in the meat section when the explosion went off- The cow statue having saved your ass from being turned into a tube of ground beef, but now you were a hostage..

Greaattt.

"Hamil told us we needed the hostages, 6 of them exactly for this while they set up the explosives down the block.. we just gotta wait for the signal" The man said in the different language. You taking mental note of this-

You spot a little girl and her mother among your fellow hostages, your heart breaking at rhe sight as you saw the man approach her. Her mother clearly trying to undo her child's rope and get her to slip away down the aisle. However pausing when one of the men approached her and the girl.

"Hamil said Makarov gave us the clear so we could do as we pleased as we wait right?" The man said, one of his peers rolling his eyes in disgust and calling him dirty.

"Whatever we got some time to kill" He grumbled, beginning to undo his belt as he grabbed the screaming mother who was trying to shield her daughter away from the possible assault. You sitting up fully at this point and your brain going on autopilot.

"Woah Woah Woah Man! Got that weak of game you have to rape some Mom now?!" You yelled, the man pausing his actions. Tossing the sobbing women away from him and marching to you angrily fixing his belt-

"What did you say?" He hissed angrily flashing his gun at you. "I'll fuck your mother how about that-"

He said angrily, You took note of all the men now staring at you and not at the other hostages- Keeping them distracted... maybe enough for the little girl to slip away?

"I've already fucked your mom asshole- I have her saved as slip and slide on my phone" You say with a crooked grin- A few of the men snickering at your joke, Oh Fuck Yeah!

"What did you say!? Do you not see the situation you're in now?" He growled.

"Aww can't take a joke big guy? Come one gotta lighten it up somehow-" You see in your peripherals the girl slipping away as you chattered.

"Got a big mouth huh? Why don't we put it to use?" He chimed, you really wanting to turn this guy away from molesting you or anyone else.

"Listen it would be a waste of space- like if you throw a hotdog in a cave" You chimed, smiling as he looked ready to rip you apart but instead punched you across the face. OWWW!!

"Is it BDSM tuesday?.. Eh not doing it for me though big guy maybe rub your nipples and give me a wink?" You say, His friend who had called his dirty giving a hearty laugh at this.

The man glared down at you and spit in your face, clearly wanting to kill you in some way but needed you and the others for their plan. You pretended to taste it like a fine wine, Looking him in the eye.

"Oh?~ Cock flavored spit?- New Age?" You chimed making the man face red as a tomato in rage as his mate to the left laughed.

"Was this a little self yoga or did Unicorn overthrew give a hand?"

He smacked you with his pistol making you cry out-

Fuck that hurt!!

You defiently had a cracked bone somewhere in your face and the fresh taste of blood in your mouth didn't exactly help those feelings.

"Say something smart now!" He yelled angrily.

"A pistol whip!? What is this 1995? Give your balls a tug you tit fucker! Or are they so shriveled up you can't grab them?" You say with a smile, the man grabbing your collar and pressing the gun to your temple.

"I no longer care what Hamil wants! I'm killing this little bastard!" He screamed, you wincing at his breath.

"You can't! I don't want Makarov on my ass!" His peer yelled ready to pry him off you.

"Just put a sock in their mouth or something if they are bitching that much!"

"Well if you're gonna kill me so close a breath mint would be nice? You do realize Tiktacs aren't just a penis size right?" You chuckle nervously, you eyes catching a shadow moving behind the men now all staring at you. Their backs turned to the shadows.

"You know what- I'll shut up after one last joke? Eh?" You say nervously, The man yous been tormenting cocking his gun- you see a man silently stalk out, a skull mask covering his face as 4 others moved in perfect formation behind him.

"No more fucking jokes!" He yells, rage in his eyes.

"Okay- But I tried" You say cheerfully before closing your eyes. In seconds gunfire went off around you and quick screams surrounded you.

"Clear!" You hear sounded as you crack open your eye to take a peak.

"Holy fuck-" You sigh out and give a nervous laugh. Looking at the dead men now littering the ground as the soilders file into the area quickly-

The guy in the skullmask- The one who you spotted getting into position behind the guys comes to you and undoes the rope around your wrist in record time as the other men do the same to your fellow hostages.

"A medic will be here soon to check over your injuries" He said in a surprisingly deep voice- accident not lost on your either. He reached a hand down to either help you up or pick you up to extract you from the area.

You grab the man's vest quickly to stop him before he could, He stares at you hard in confusion.

"Listen, Those guys said that there were bombs down the block and were waiting for a signal. They have others- I can understand them and thwy said they followed someone name Hamil who talks to Makarov... I-Im a linguists and um.. can understand them" You say quickly, The masked man narrows his eyes at this and speaks into a radio on his side.

"We have info that more bombs are down the block- Scout the area and evacuate further" he said as he went back to helping you up. A quick thanks leaving your lips as you pulled off your work hoodie and passed it to the mother to cover her up.

The men escorting you out of the grocery store.

"Got to say, never seen a Canary get the best of those guys-" The Mohawk guy said with a smirk on his face, supporting a old man who clearly had a broken foot.

"Gotta use my gifts somehow- and Canary?" You shot back,

"Always fuckin' churpin" He said with a smile. A laugh now coming from you as you nod. Once outside the medics quickly swarmed all of you and prepared to take you all to the hospital.

You spot the masked guy again- Giving him a head nod. "Thank you Mr. Spooky!" You call out rather loudly- earning a amused glare from the man who rolled his eyes.

"....Your quips- Were... quite amusing.." He said calmly, You looking at the hardened man with a smile on your busted face- The others in his little boy band also cracking some smirks as they walked off finishing their jobs- which you assumed was down the block.

You give a bow of your head in a mildly dramatic flare. Wanting a shot and a nap at this point as the

"Glad my show went well"

Bonus!

- The little girl got out and went to the police that were waiting outside- explaining what you were doing and immediately getting checked over by medica

- TK141 had actually gotten to your location a little earlier then when you saw. However Soap had to stop everyone since he almost fell out at the cock flavored spit take.

- The whole team had been laughing on the inside or holding back laughter the whole time they heard you chirping at the men holding you hostage.

- The Nickname 'Mr. Spooky' will follow poor Ghost for the next few months-

[lunarduty]

Hello ☺️ Could I request the Risk prompt with Alejandro please? No worries if you’re not up to it. Thank you

𝘽𝙀𝘼𝙏 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙋𝙐𝙇𝙎𝙀 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙊 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙀𝙎

☾ alejandro likes to celebrate after a successful mission. | [ RISK ]  for one muse to drive and finger the other who is in the passenger seat.  ALEJANDRO VARGAS X F!READER TAGS | nsfw. smut. female reader. WC | 626 x

after an op is all wrapped up, and it’s time to head back to base, alejandro usually likes to drive back alone with you. not all the time - if a lot of his men are hurt or if shit went sideways or if he needs to discuss things with rudy. but it’s happened enough times where most of the guys know that you drive back with alejandro, and therefore don’t offer up a seat in their trucks.

they figure it’s because their colonel is just protective of you. likes to keep you close. just wants a brief moment of PEACE after the chaos of a hard fight. and they aren’t wrong, but alejandro always has ulterior motives for his actions. before getting back to base to celebrate with his men, he likes to celebrate with you.

it always starts with a hand on your thigh as alejandro sings your praises. calls you his tough girl. recounts your accomplishments on the op while his hand squeezes your thigh all the way up to the waistband of your pants. he’s gotten really good at undoing your belt with just one hand. always grinning when he gets the top button open as if he’d just won a carnival game. glancing over to you as he drives and staring for a moment too long before you’re scolding him to watch the road.

but how can he not watch that pretty fucking face as his fingers wedge down the front of your pants? how can he ignore the look you get when his fingers start their DESCENT - an addicting combination of impatience and eagerness? riding the same aftershocks of adrenaline that alejandro is. and though his eyes turn back to the road, at least he can hear your little gasp when the pads of his fingers find your clit. a breathy, shortened version of his name as he pushes three fingers through the folds of your cunt to spread out all that fucking wetness and he’s half-tempted to pull his hand out to taste it.

alejandro’s favorite part is the teasing moments before he pushes even a single finger inside you. when you’re desperate for him and he’s holding it just out of reach so you start grinding your hips up against the palm of his hand and he just lets you. allows you the freedom of fucking up against him because you did amazing today and you deserve to do whatever makes you feel good.

but he eventually does sink a finger in - quickly, unceremoniously, and without warning because he loves hearing the little whimper of surprise from you. while driving, alejandro can only do so much. he adds another finger, curls them, lets you thrust against his hand, but has to leave his special little tricks for the brief moments when the trucks stop and he can spend even a few seconds pumping his fingers at a pace that makes you grip his forearm with a moan of his name.

“c’mon, princesa. you like to ride my hand, yeah? want me to make you cum all around my fingers? right here in the truck where anyone can see? very dirty, my tough girl. need to stop INDULGING you so much.”

it’s a bluff, though. if anything, you’re the one who indulges his dirty habits. he just loves finger fucking you on the way back. loves it when you cum and your voice is just a little hoarse from yelling during the mission so the moan is just slightly scratchy. loves having drinks with his men later with the faint smell of you still lingering on his hand. loves catching your eye from across the room and knowing you’ll be returning the favor tonight in the privacy of your home.

[arrowheadedbitch]

Okay everyone, get ready for a long as hell post.

Tw, suicide attempt, suicide, suicide talk

This is my really indepth Shawn hc that is more of just straight up a story at this point

So STRAP IN!

Okay, so during the ten years, at some point Shawn is super duper depressed. He's not going well at all. He's thinking of offing himself, and he has it all planned out. But, he calls his dad first, in hopes that despite their rocky relationship his dad will talk him out of it. But, as soon as his dad picks up the phone...well, you know Henry, he assumes the worst. So Henry is already yelling at him, why are you calling, what do you need now, blah blah blah, so shawn hangs up on him without ever getting a word in edgewise, he never gets to tell him why he called, and now it's just confirmed to him that he should end it and he's feeling a little spiteful too, so he downs a bottle of painkillers, one of the ones with the candy coating, yknow? He only survives bc he didn't care to lock his apartment door and one of the random girls he's always hooking up with came by to get something she accidentally left there, he doesn't answer but the door isn't locked so she thinks she'll just slip in an get her stuff, but instead she finds shawn and gets him an ambulance. After Shawn gets better, he either manages to charisma his way into convincing the doctors that it wasn't *really* a suicide attempt and gets realesed or does his regular sneaky shit and escapes and dips town so he doesn't have to do any therapy or go to grippy sock jail.

To this day, Henry doesn't know, GUS doesn't know, NO ONE KNOWS, *shawn tells NO ONE*

And he can't take advil anymore, can't stand the candy coating.

----------

Hear me out, him accidentally letting it slip during a big argument with Henry

I'm thinking Shawn says something that alludes to what happened during the argument without out right saying it so Henry gets to be more confused than angry as Shawn realizes what he almost reveals and completely shuts down refisung to elaborate

I'm imaging that scene in modern family where Alex accidentally mentions to her dad that she did stuff she wasn't supposed to as a teen and slowly backs out of the room

-------

And I could go on a whole rant about the candy coated painkillers, and I will!

The idea of picking something that's supposed to be sweet, that is supposed to go down easier

Because that's kind of the whole point of candy coating, and Advil tastes good as hell, I don't care what anybody says

He chose something that would be sweet and go down easy for his final moments

But it ended up sickly sweet

And it still got stuck in his throat

And it burnt on the way down

He started out tasting good (there's a reason Advils child lock game is so good) but it ended up tasting awful and burning

The burn and pain contrasted with how he thought he would go out

(Maybe even a perfect metaphor for his relationship with his father too....)

The taste is stuck in his mouth forever, a taste he can never forget

The sickly sweet burn of a whole bottle of candy coated painkillers

And even just the term "Candy Coated Painkillers" feels kind of perfect for Shawn, like aiygjvifjtjejjdksndh

---

Also the fact that he never tells Gus? AUGHH hits me right in the heart

He doesn't call his mom or his best friend, he doesn't tell them, they wouldn't even know until after he was long gone

-----

Maybe Lassie finds out at some point, finally switching gears from looking for something in his criminal record to checking his medical history

Or as a favor for Juliet (thank you Sid/@obsidiancreates ) to find out the truth about a scar he won't tell her about

Lassie doesn't tell anyone, but he does switch out Juliet's stash of Advil for Tylenol, no candy coating.

Shawn finds out he knows because he gets protective of all the new suicide cases in a completely different way than before

Shawn has to tell him to tone it down before Gus starts getting suspicious

-------

And then of course, there's the major angst potential of an AU where Shawn /does/ die

Especially if told from Henry's perspective...

Especially if all of Psych is just Henry imagining what could have been if Shawn didn't die......

But that's all for now!

Enjoy, angst lovers!

[Thanks to @obsidiancreates and @mores0 for talking with me about this AT LENGTH in the Psych discord :)]

[artiststarme]

Ex-fucking-cuse you

Thank you to @carlyv for the title idea! I don’t know if I really like whatever this is but other people seem to so I’ll leave it be. Let me know what you guys are thinking in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Whenever he had shared his feelings in the past, he’d had them stomped on. From crushes to life goals, anyone he’d ever confided in had laughed in his face. The first memorable time had been when he told Tommy about his crush on Heath Sellers at recess in fourth grade. Tommy H. told him that he wouldn’t be friends with a fag and if he ever mentioned liking a dude again, he’d kick his ass. That circumstance really showed Steve that he couldn’t trust anyone. If he couldn’t share what he was thinking with his best friend, who else could he tell?

The second time was with Nancy Wheeler. Steve told her he loved her even though he knew it was too early into their relationship and he knew she was still grieving Barb. But he still told her and all she did for the first few times was call him an idiot afterwards. Steve loved too much and too hard. Sure, after a few weeks she said it back but Steve could tell it wasn’t genuine and was most likely said out of pity.

The fact that she called him bullshit just two weeks later kind of cemented that fact in his mind.

It made him feel sort of hypocritical. He told the kids to be open and honest, prided them on their communication. And then he neglected to do the same. He hid his nightmares and semi-suicidal thoughts behind an impenetrable wall that no one in the Party could breach.

Until Eddie.

For months, Steve hated Eddie because it felt like he was stealing the kids away from him. He was jealous that they shared a common interest that he couldn’t understand and was gearing up for the kids to leave him behind. But then, Eddie told him that the kids worshiped him and he’d been jealous too. Jealous of the cool babysitter that influenced their actions in DnD and could do no wrong.

Steve felt like Eddie could truly see him, could understand Steve, and liked what he saw. He could tell that Eddie was going to be a great friend of his, or more. He liked more.

But when he ran back to the trailer park after flambéing Vecna, he saw a blood soaked Eddie being cradled by Dustin. His slow paced jog turned into a full blown sprint. Steve yanked Eddie out of Dustin’s arms and made a mad dash towards the portal in his trailer. He wasn’t going to lose the one guy that made him feel more understood than anyone else had ever made him feel.

The girls and Dustin tearfully followed them but Steve couldn’t spare them any attention. He was solely focused on the sluggish bleeding of Eddie’s wounds.

“Ow, Harrington. Calm the fuck down.”

“Eddie?!” The metalhead’s eyes were blurry but somewhat focused on Steve’s face. “Hey man, you have to stay awake. When we get out of here, you can teach me all about your shitty yelling music and nerd game, okay?”

The blurriness lifted slightly as pure offense filled his face, “ex-fucking-cuse you. That “shitty yelling” is true music unlike your Tears for Fears garbage or whatever the hell else you listen to. I have taste. And yeah, Harrington. I will be teaching you Dungeons & Dragons when we get out of here. Lugging my body out of here when I was trying to make a noble sacrifice is disgraceful.”

“You’re not allowed to die, Eddie.” Steve said, panting with exertion and stress.

“That’s not up to you,” and then he passed out.

“Fuck!” Steve screamed. That fucking dramatic shit, if those were his last words, Steve would bring him back just to kill him again.

Steve’s feelings were threatening to overcome him as his hands shook while he put Eddie into the car. Nancy held one of them and gave him a look of meaning. “I’ll drive.”

“Um, yeah, yeah. Okay, thanks. Henderson! Keep pressure on his wounds. We need to stop the bleeding.” He desperately put pressure on the worst of the wounds on his torso and prayed to a god he no longer believed in.

And then they sped towards the hospital.

Steve was there when Eddie woke up, just as he had been in the four days he’d been unconscious while recovering from shock. He was trying to read the dancing letters in The Hobbit but when he looked up and met Eddie’s eyes, the book dropped from his hands.

“Didn’t take you for a fantasy nerd, Harrington.” Eddie mumbled, his voice hoarse but unwavering.

“We need to talk about your theatrics, man. You almost gave me a heart attack, Eddie.”

“Oh, we’re on a first-name basis now? If I’d known all I had to do was risk my life to be in King Steve’s court, I would’ve done it a long time ago.” Eddie smirked at him.

“I’m not a king anymore.” Steve said and shook his head. It’d been a long time since anyone had called him that and he didn’t like the way it sounded on Eddie’s lips either.

“My apologies, Steve. You’re not a king, you’re a paladin. And that’s better than any noble.” Eddie said wisely.

Steve had no idea what the fuck any of that meant or what a pal-man was but he could listen to Eddie rant at him for hours as long as he kept looking at him like that. His face was fond and his lips, though scarred with a vicious bite marring their softness, smiled softly at Steve.

He coughed a bit to clear his throat and tore his eyes from Eddie’s lips to his amused eyes. “Um, do you said you were going to explain your screamy metal shit?”

That got Steve his desired reaction and Eddie squawked. “You motherfucker-”

As Steve listened to his enraged ranting, he made himself a promise. He was going to be more like Eddie. He was going to be more free with his feelings and he would find a way to talk to his friends about them. But for now, he’d listen to Eddie’s virtriolic soliloquy about the merits of metal artists and the importance on nonconformist music in “this sweaty armpit of a state”. And Steve couldn’t be happier.

@doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @carlyv

[freakartack]

tell us something you've always wanted an excuse to tell us! if you don't have anything in mind (or need another q), who's your favorite anpanman side character?

This is such a nice question. (For the record, my favorite anpanman SIDE characters, so not baikinman, are the kabuki radish, the train, and....old baikinman.)

Now for something i've ALWAYS wanted an excuse to tell you guys...that's actually kind of hard because I run my mouth so often here. BUT, since I made a whole post singing the praises of orbulon (and ashley for some reason), I will thusly use this as an excuse to celebrate my favorite weirdgirl in cartoon history.....

MISS MONA

Miss Mona is a force to be reckoned with. The ultimate bastion of eccentricity, she is unapologetically herself; never will she ever tone herself down for someone else. Even when she is slightly diffident about presenting her "strange" games, she usually follows it up with "i worked hard on these, so you BETTER LIKE IT." And she's right. You better.

Continuing in that vein, she is a connoisseur of all things strange and offputting. Wario is her fashion icon, "moth and beetle larvae" are her favorite animals, and she's made like ten snot-related microgames.

In fact, the beetle and moth larvae should honestly be their own bullet point, because you know how much I fucking love beetle and moth larvae. (i think her favorites are dermestid beetle larvae and woolly bear caterpillars)

The fact that she is so unperturbed by the strange and offputting is also part of what makes her such a damn nice person. Mona is a friend to all. There is no one too weird, too antisocial, or too actively hostile to her personally that Mona will not welcome with open arms. She is a very popular person and that's because she goes so out of her way to make everyone feel included. She is even the first one to attempt the impossible task of befriending Ashley - that alone says A LOT about her character.

That also makes the times when she's not so nice all the funnier and more refreshing. Mona loves Wario, but she also absolutely will not take shit from him. She is always the first to berate Wario for being greedy and selfish, even when she's a little hypocritical about it...

6. She is a Girly Girl, which is not only unusual for this type of character, but also is not tacked-on just because she's a girl; all of her "girly" interests further serve her characterization. She loves fashion because she's so enthusiastic to express herself. She's a cheerleader because she loves intense athletics and yelling really loud. She loves "cute things" because to her a maggot is cute. She's not "girly" because she has to be, it's just a natural progression of her character. And she's OK with that!

7. So many of her microgame descriptions in Mega Microgames have puns in them which is the highest form of humor:

8. She is a DAMN HARD WORKER. She's doing all those jobs ON TOP OF being a high schooler, AND her extracurriculars, AND warioware. I always think it's weird when people say that Mona couldn't possibly be a teenager because she drives and has a job, because not only does that not make any sense, but to me she is the quintessential embodiment of an overachieving highschooler. Take a break girl!!!

9. We have the same music taste

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

games, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You don't have a crush on Min Yoongi. You two are just fucking. Yup. You ignore him for two weeks because of Pokémon. Sorry. Twelve days. He's mad about it (and drunk?). Oh, shit.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; OT6 are nosy so now it's somehow crack???? this always happens idk how; friends-with-benefits; soulmate vibes(?); ft my obsession Pokemon Scarlet / Violet; feels + smut (fem reader, penetrative sex, scratching, m-receiving oral, mutual masturbation, choking); non-idol!AU; switches between your POV and Yoongi's POV

--

“Yoongi?”

Wow, that was loud and unexpected. Knocked you right out of your very pleasant dream of stuffing your face at a buffet with thick, juicy slices of prime rib, complete with flakes of premium sea salt.

“YOONGI?!”

You could still almost taste it, but, like all dreams, the savory delight slipped away from you rapidly as you groggily blinked and realized you were resembling a croissant folded into this couch.

“You have a crush on Min Yoongi of all people?!”

Similar to the flaky buttery pastry, you had no idea what the fuck was going on. Unlike the product of a baker’s pride, sentient life required you to reorient yourself into humanity, hazily taking note of the MapleStory mushroom-printed blanket draped over you and your empty hands. Your hands had been holding your phone before you passed out. You were obsessed with mobile puzzle games recently. It was nice to have games on the go to occupy yourself instead of, bleh, socializing. It was awesome. When you figured them out too easily though, they made you sleepy.

Anyway, where the hell was your phone?

“Really?! Yoongi-hyung? Oh my gosh, he texted a human being all in his own? Wow!”

That kind of excitement could only be the voice of…

“Come on, guys, hyung’s been better about such things recently. He’s surprisingly sentimental, you know.”

And that sensible voice was none other than…

Someone snorted.

That was Kim Seokjin.

You rubbed your eyes to see a familiar man holding your very expensive Samsung smartphone with your customized Rotom phone case, poking at the screen as if he was his own.

“What kind of illegal activity are you doing over there?” you hummed as you sat up, knowing full well he did not possess access due to the fingerprint scanner. One time you snuck up on him as he tried to snoop on your phone. He had flung it, so this time you calmly stayed on the sofa as your longtime friend on the armchair jumped, thoroughly scaring himself and the lean, tan drink-of-sunshine standing behind him.

“You’re awake!” Seokjin blurted. Tall, gangly if you squinted, absolutely handsome, somehow always dancing on the edge of endearing caretaker and walking disaster, Kim Seokjin threw himself out of the plushy white armchair and shoved your phone into your face accusingly as if you were the one responsible of wrongdoing. His chestnut-brown poofy hair bounced as he relentlessly poked you in the head. “You’re texting Min Yoongi! Is that the one you have a crush on?!”

“Er, technically all hyung asked was when the group was meeting up…” Jung Hoseok squeaked, radiating apologies while Seokjin continued poking you in the head with his free hand. “I tried to tell him not to touch your phone.”

“I’m sure you did,” you replied. “I’m also sure he didn’t listen.”

“Hey. Answer me.”

“Hyung…” The concerned, deep voice was coming from the barstools in the kitchen behind you, in the don’t-annoy-her-that’s-rude-but-also-it's-not-my-place-to-scold-since-I’m-younger tone. Kim Namjoon, who was probably reading a book and drinking tea at the counter. He must have been banished there. The last time he had done the same activities in the living room, he had spilled tea all over Seokjin’s white rug. That had earned him a good yelling.

You glanced at Hoseok’s rueful expression and half-smiled, waving your hand to indicate you weren’t that bothered.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me.”

Kim Seokjin believed he needed to know such information about you because he had been your friend since your accountant mother started dragging you to house calls to a very specific home (mansion) in hopes of child you falling in love with the dashingly handsome son of one of her clients (she told his parents that it was because she couldn’t afford daycare, but even child you knew better). Instead, Seokjin and you became inseparable hopelessly addicted gaming fanatics that could not imagine each other naked without puking.

You did end up becoming inseparable. Just not in the way your mother wanted.

Oops.

“I don’t have a crush on Min Yoongi.”

“Oh yeah?” He said it in a high-pitched, disbelieving tone. You swatted his hand and snatched your phone from him, peering at the message preview. “Why is he texting you then, huh? HUH?”

Your phone vibrated.

Sorry to bother you. I would have texted Seokjin-hyung, but he’s annoying.

“He says you’re annoying.”

“Ex-cuse ME?”

“Here’s the proof.”

“EXCUSE HIM?!”

-

“What.”

“Let me in. It’s cold out here.”

“What are you doing here?” Kim Taehyung sputtered, obediently opening his apartment door to the slightly shorter, much more imposing figure of Min Yoongi. His long black hair was wild and windblown, puffy black parka zipped all the way up, hood out but useless at the moment. Light denim jeans and black boots crusted with snow. Nothing but his serious, intense demeanor made him imposing. Yoongi carefully kicked off the white ice before stepping in, slowly raising an eyebrow at Taehyung’s askew brown locks and rumpled gray sweat set.

“You’re not leaving like that are you?”

Taehyung frowned. “I’m not, duh. Jimin’s taking ages to use the bathroom. I think he fell in the toilet.”

“Hey! I heard that! Who’s out there?”

“You won’t believe it,” Taehyung shouted back to the disembodied voice coming from inside his apartment. He pushed his hair back from his eyes like he himself couldn’t believe it, revealing his classically handsome sharp features and stunned frown. “It’s Yoongi.”

“YOONGI?!”

The Min Yoongi, of the hour it seemed, rolled his eyes.

“What are you doing back there?” he called to the voice inside from the front hallway, not moving.

“Fixing my hair!” Park Jimin yelled back several decibels louder.

“I’m surprised,” Taehyung said, looking scowling Yoongi up and down like he was some kind of unidentified foreign object. “I thought you weren’t coming. Didn’t you say you were busy?”

“I made myself unbusy,” Yoongi grumbled back, pulling out his phone.

“You don’t make yourself unbusy for no reason.” Taehyung persisted, sticking his face in between Yoongi and his phone, making those cat-like eyes above narrow in annoyance.

“There’s alcohol.”

Taehyung wiggled his dark eyebrows. “I thought you were cutting back.”

Deadpan.

“Life’s shit, man.”

The younger male broke out into his boxy smile and booming laugh, pulling his head of brown curls back to double over. It was the combination of Yoongi’s dead-inside expression and monotone reply that was making Taehyung snort, that and Yoongi’s immediate return to his phone as if nothing was happening. Yoongi still made no move to actually step further into the apartment. He simply continued standing in front of the closed front door, on the welcome mat next to the shoes thrown about because Kim Taehyung couldn’t be neat unless he was impressing someone, and those people were not his best friend Park Jimin and unexpected-guest-but-still-friend Min Yoongi.

“You’re so funny, hyung.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

Yoongi raised his eyebrows as he stared at his phone and gave Taehyung absolutely fucking nothing to work with to continue the conversation.

“I guess you intend to drink since you stopped by here,” Taehyung chattered on, bored and unbothered about Yoongi’s lack of communication. “I’m closest to the train station and in between the karaoke bar. Plus sharing a taxi with us is cheaper than paying on your own.”

Silence.

Taehyung prodded Yoongi’s arm.

“Uh huh.”

Innovative answer.

“I think everyone is going to be there then,” Taehyung continued on, smooth baritone voice calming as he listed the people. “Namjoonie-hyung, Seokjinnie-hyung, Hoseokie-hyung, Jimin, Jungkookie, you, me…”

“Where’s Jungkook?”

“He’s asleep.”

Taehyung pointed to the couch. There was a blob of gray, black and white, too much fabric and face-down into the couch pillows. A poof of wavy black hair the only indication the pile was a human and not forgotten laundry.

“What is he, a newborn infant?”

“I don’t know. He said he was tired. If we don’t let him nap now, he’ll pass out during karaoke and we’re not strong enough to carry him out. Remember last time?” Taehyung sighed.

The monochrome blob that was supposedly the man named Jeon Jungkook suddenly snored, as if on cue.

“Yeah, I don’t know what he’s is doing in the gym but he’s unmovable,” Yoongi muttered.

The phone vibrated.

“Oh, is that me?” Taehyung immediately felt around his pockets and looked around. “Ah, where did I–”

But it was not him. Yoongi looked down. Unfortunately, you’ll bear witness to my awful singing. I apologize in advance. The corner of his lips ticked as he read the message. He breathed out. One, two, three, four seconds, and typed back. That makes the two of us then. A part of him thought he shouldn’t have started this conversation. He wasn’t good at this small talk thing, but one had to make some kind of effort in getting to know someone. And, anyway, he knew himself.

Do before getting carried away.

And, yeah, he wanted to know this one.

“I knew it.”

Yoongi slowly blinked, sensing an ominous presence staring at his phone screen, most certainly reading the name there. Sigh. He pulled his arm back and put his phone in his pocket, looking up to see the grinning, scheming, falsely-angelic face of Park Jimin looming into his peripheral view.

“Oooh, Min Yoongi has a crush.”

Yoongi said nothing, because saying nothing was better than reaching over and strangling Jimin. The latter would require physical effort. Oh, and perhaps land him in jail for murder. But that was only because Taehyung was here as witness.

“Huh… I thought I got a notification,” the latter commented, emerging from his bedroom with his uncased smartphone. Yoongi often wondered how Taehyung never cracked it, but perhaps he just bought new ones when he did. Taehyung often chose aesthetics over practicality. “Oh, finally, you’re out of the bathroom. Do I have to open a window to spare myself?”

“Tae, Yoongi-hyung has a crush,” Jimin sing-songed, bouncing around the older male teasingly as Yoongi remained statuesque. “He’s texting Seokjinnie-hyung’s lady gamer friend.”

Yoongi did not confirm or deny this information as Taehyung’s brown doe eyes went wide.

“OH?”

“Hyung’s flirting.”

Yoongi felt his right eyelid twitch.

“Jungkookie! Jungkookie, wake up, I have news!”

The blob trembled, suddenly alive, shaken violently by a hyper-excited Taehyung who couldn’t believe his ears even though he did not fact-check Jimin and had zero proof if his best friend was telling the truth or not. Apparently, he was filled with too much glee to relay this sudden revelation to the youngest, sleepiest one of the soon-to-be-drunk-as-fuck-karaoke group.

“W... Wuh?”

Unsurprisingly, Jungkook was not that articulate when barely roused from the dead.

“Yoongi-hyung’s flirting!”

Those big peepers snapped open.

“He’s WHAT?!”

-

“Mmm.”

The night smelled like smoke and someone’s delicious dinner.

“I should, ah, head home now that you’re safely at your door and all that.”

The winter night framed his figure. A halo of streetlamp light caught the gloss of his wavy black hair. Long and dark and shadowy, strands curling around high cheekbones and fair skin. He caught your gaze as you turned to face him. Black-brown eyes and unreadable expression. Half-zipped parka, black sweatshirt, and blue jeans with gray paint splattered onto one knee. No scarf. Strange, because you knew this man was the kind of guy who always wore a beanie and prioritized sensibility over aesthetics, and yet.

Min Yoongi raised his hands and exhaled into his curled palms, warming his nose at the same time. He looked away from you to do so.

“Cold?”

He shrugged. “It’s winter.”

You half-smiled, lifting your ungloved left hand. “My hands are always warm. My face always gets cold first before my hands.”

He eyed your fur-lined leather jacket. A chocolatey faux fur, softness peeking out from the tougher black fabric. Then his eyeline shifted. Intently observing your face. If you were younger, you might have thought you had to react differently. Been shy like the movies or some shit.

You simply waited, keeping your touch hovering in the winter night.

Slowly, you lowered your hand.

Something fluttered in the darkness that was those eyes. You had seen it before, maybe even spied it earlier this night. It was only a get-together between friends, drinks and karaoke, neither activity you particularly enjoyed which led to your original decision of not going. One small detail changed your mind, and he was standing right in front of you. Your singing was awful, but Yoongi was still polite enough to say that you were better than he was. I’m only good at rap. Sure. You heard what he said and his singing voice proved to contradict it. So Min Yoongi was that kind of liar, huh.

You didn’t say goodbye yet.

You could see Yoongi was waiting for you to say it first. You removed your other hand from your jacket pocket. Empty, purposefully leaving your keys behind. Calmly stared into those dark eyes as he stepped forward. You could feel it. The fire beneath the waves. Felt it all night. In the stolen glances, in the way he spoke to you, polite with piqued curiosity, in the way time stopped when your eyes connected.

You smiled.

His cold fingers touched the back of your hand.

You didn’t say anything. Didn’t need the conversation to be with words. His hand on yours, chills wrapping around the warmth. Experiential. Testing the feeling between you and him. You didn’t need to wonder what he thought of you. He had reached out and touched your hand and you let him, reaching between you and him to softly rub the back of his knuckles, silently speaking to those dark eyes and parted lips through touch. His other hand raised and laid above your joined hands.

Black strands curved around his cheeks as Yoongi lowered his head.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he whispered, smokey and dusky.

Bodies closer, breath mixing. Your head tilted. Lashes lowering. Cold night air disappearing because of the fire under the water, breath to breath, hot, almost burning, the desire to break the surface rising, rising.

“Is it this?” you murmured, barely audible.

You could tell a lot from one kiss. He did not hide his hesitancy or his want. Honesty from the very beginning of his lips on yours, surprised at the way you pressed back against him and inhaled, imprinting the moment to your memory with his scent. Your grip tightened and his did too, telling you everything you needed to know, kiss after kiss, pulling him to you, away from the winter night and memories of a friendly get-together, about to change them into something…

Else.

Yeah.

Fuck it, you were already pushing his parka down his shoulders before your front door finished closing. It was dark but that didn’t matter when you remembered where everything was, flicking on low lights and bringing his face close to yours again, creating the magical moments on your own, not waiting for Yoongi for do so. He was enough magic in his breathless gasps and the way he seamlessly followed the fervor of your kiss, his shallow sighs saturated with lust. There was very little talking except the conversation of bodies. Not much to say when you collided him into the wall and slid your hands under his sweatshirt, skin to warm skin, kisses turning to hot breath and flicks of tongue against his neck, shivers under your lips, and then he flipped the situation, strong hands on your shoulders and rolling against the wall, pinning you with his body.

Hair all over his eyes.

Shaking inhale.

A hall lamp lighting the left side of his face.

“Too fast?” you asked softly.

Dark orbs flickered to yours.

“… No.”

Closer, his air becoming your air.

“I just don’t want you to think this is the reason I walked you home. I didn’t want you to get hurt. Walking at night alone isn’t safe. People are crazy.”

You half-smiled. Alright, more of a smirk. “Maybe I’m one of them.”

A light chuckle, impressed and amused at the same time. “I was trying to sober up too.” Giving excuses.

“Heard you have a high tolerance.”

“Alcohol is alcohol.”

“So, does the alcohol wanna fuck me or do you?”

No one ever called you subtle.

Yoongi closed the distance, his hair falling against your forehead. You could tell he was struggling with himself whether or not to be swept up in the waves of your fire, or maybe struggling with what was wrong and what was right, or maybe he was hesitating once he felt your relentless energy under his hands, but you could also feel something pressing against your crotch and it wasn’t one of his legs.

He was very calm once he made his decision.

“What do you like?”

Your hands in his hair, his ear between your teeth, and his moan into your pillows. Clothes all over the floor, body to body, so much heat that you both seemed to forget it was winter. His hand on your breasts, your hard nipples between his fingertips, your mouth opening and extending your tongue, teasing him, tangling your legs in his. There was some irresistible about his smile and his smirk. You chased both, running your nails over his back and ass, his hard cock pressed to your thigh and his hiss against your neck, do you have condoms, we shouldn’t, but he didn’t need to finish since you were already prepared.

“I’m not irresponsible.”

“Oh?” Yoongi cocked an eyebrow. Glanced at your rumpled sheets, his naked body as he rolled down the condom, and then at your naked body. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

You just smirked.

You were often careful after the first time, following the energy of the other person rather than your own desires. But this time, something was different. Your hand would press to his chest, fingernails curling in, and, slowly, centimeter by centimeter, his length filling you, contented sighs mixing, raking your nails down, lines of pain in your wake, listening to his hitched breath, his eyes flashing.

He didn’t say it, but his voice was in his racing heartbeat and throbbing cock.

More.

Not quite competitiveness but more like pleasure from pushing the limit. There was a certain measure of reservedness, like how he waited patiently for you to lift your leg up onto his shoulder. First one, and then you tapped his other arm. Yoongi raised his eyebrows, but he lifted his other arm, hand back to your mattress once you were folded under him.

You lifted your hips up and rammed into his crotch.

He sucked in a growl and winced, screwing his eyes shut. Probably to avoid you seeing anything too embarrassing. You let your muscles slowly close in around him, squeezing his hardness, letting yourself feel him inside you. Appreciating. He didn’t move right away. You did, steadily fucking him from below, his chest against your thighs, keeping the smirk on your face to stay as infuriating as possible.

“Fucking… Are you enjoying this?”

Low and dangerous, sweet chills up your spine at his deep voice.

“Do you fuck without the intent of enjoying it?” you countered.

He narrowed his eyes and fucked you into your mattress. Merciless and hard and deliberate. Good rhythm, which you expected. Intensity over speed, which you did not expect. Yoongi knew what he was doing. He was not just chasing his own pleasure. There was no need to with the way that you were nearly sending him over the edge with the control of your own muscles. He slowed down for a moment, lifting a hand and tracing your jaw with his fingertips, whispers under his pants, you have nice lips, you know, the perfect shape, and you licked the air, the tongue is better.

Cocked eyebrow, open-mouthed smirk.

“I’ll have to find out next time.” He ticked his head downward. “You wanna get off with me?”

“I will if you fuck me hard enough.”

“You don’t have to pretend.”

“I’m not. You’ll feel it, trust me.”

You thrusted with him to get that depth you liked and he did, in fact, feel it.

“F-Fuck!”

You bit your lower lip and grinned, throwing your head back and feeling your moan vibrate in your chest, lengthening your high with the containment. Eyes closing, no more talking, your arms up and hands clutching the pillows, fucking him as he fucked you, his swears turning into moans as he felt your orgasm convulse around him, honey wetness sticking to your inner thighs and his, chasing a higher high, cutting off every one before the final crescendo, not letting yourself fully let go, not yet, almost there, not yet.

Saturating every second with vicious, hot pleasure.

Somehow Yoongi knew. Felt it, chased it with you, his muscles tense, rigid, holding back too, building the higher high, harder, steady, fuck, so good.

Your name tumbling from his throat, the warning, and his from yours, the moment, orgasm so intense you forgot to breathe for a second, suspended, and then the crash, gasping as you felt him twitch inside you and your walls pulse, electricity shooting through your nerves, tingling and euphoric, gripping your pillows covered in your hair as Yoongi leaned forward and covered you in his hair and hot breath, colliding kiss matching the escalating beats of racing hearts.

Yoongi stared into your eyes much later, all his clothes back on.

“What?” you asked.

“Just memorizing your eyes.”

He kissed you.

-

“Love is more circumstance than fate.”

“I always thought so, too.”

These kinds of things came up in conversation around others. These were moments that happened by happenstance. For instance, in the middle of Taehyung’s tirade about how true love was definitely fate between two beings who had a connection unique to themselves that could not be replicated, and he deliberately ignored Yoongi when he pointed out that every connection one had with another was unique because it was between two individuals.

You and Yoongi shared a look of faint amusement in the midst of Taehyung’s abrupt soapbox speech.

Hoseok blinked and repeated his question of whether or not he suited the acorn-shaped pouch that was slightly overpriced despite being on sale. Namjoon injected and said that if he has asking then it meant that he was hesitating. Seokjin told him who cares, just buy it, it’s cute. That was enough convincing for Jung Hoseok. He brought it on the spot.

You found Yoongi afterward, waiting for you around the corner.

“Oh. I thought you went home.”

He looked at you, lowering the hood of his parka.

“I thought about it, but it had been a while since I appreciated the night.”

Then there was silence, until you were close, and then those dark eyes stayed on you, tendrils of black between you and him. Your fingertips touched the button placket of his coat. His head lowered. His breath had a little sweetness to it because of the Korean liquor. You kissed him.

You closed your eyes when you did.

You didn’t say much more.

You didn’t really look at his apartment when you arrived. You were too entangled in the lip lock and pinning his wrists to the wall. Heat pressed to heat. His tongue thrusting between your lips. The cold rapidly defrosting once skin was against skin.

Your nails down his chest.

Heavy exhale, burning anticipation.

You didn’t need to ask yourself, why am I like this. People spent years wondering on their own, but those years were already behind you, in lonely nights of both your parents working overtime and you alone at the table doing homework, cooking your own meals, cleaning up after yourself. If you wanted the video games to distract your brain, you had to be a good daughter. Being a good daughter was not that hard. Do all the things you were supposed to do and take up as little mental space as possible.

Something like that.

You ran your tongue along the inside of Yoongi’s thigh and savored his shudder.

The only detail that slightly annoyed your mother was that you weren’t interested in marrying Seokjin and Seokjin was clearly not interested in marrying you. Not much she could do about that. She gave up on asking for those kinds of details after that, mostly to avoid her own disappointment.

You wrapped your tongue around hot, taut skin, controlling the pressure of your tongue and lips. Up, down, tongue moving independently along the underside of the head, so precise that you saw his fingers sink into his sheets, surprise rippling over his features. Raised an eyebrow at him, letting the amusement show.

Yoongi smirked, a look that suited him very much.

All the way down, hitting the back of your throat. Easy. Guess a lot of people could call you a whore for that but, then again, the ones who actually knew were probably too busy pining over the fact that they would never feel it once more. Didn’t help that you acted as if it never happened once you were done.

You had dedication to games, but to people?

Not really.

It was fun to figure out people. It was fun discovering Yoongi. His sounds, every sigh, the tone of his moan, the way his breath shook when you took him deep and slow. He became very hard every time you went as deep as possible, past the point of breathing. He didn’t try to push your head or interfere with your pace. It was as if he trusted your movement, which was what he should do, because you knew what you were doing.

You swirled your tongue around the head as you went down.

He sucked in a gasp and closed his eyes, visible tension over his chest.

There was a strange familiarity to his movements. That was the only way you could describe the ease of reading his body language. Sometimes you let yourself feel the extent of the pleasure and sometimes you let the pressure build in your body to wallow in the torture of the buildup, like what he was doing now. He wanted to last, so you made it last. Not too fast. Tongue all over his hard, pulsing length, slowing down at the right moment of his hips shivering, layering the intensity again, stroking his balls as you sucked him, spreading the dripping saliva all over.

You hadn’t been having sex with Yoongi for very long, but it felt like you already knew his body.

You let him consider the possibility of you not letting him cum and then you continued the intensity, pushing him over the edge.

“… F-Fuck…!”

Rammed the throbbing head down your throat and felt his thick, salty orgasm spurt into the confines, leaking over your tongue and the roof of your mouth, breathing in to push it back. His hips involuntarily jerked and you immediately reached up to grip them and shove him back down, swallowing around the harsh pulses.

You heard Yoongi moan, low and sweet and erotic.

People were like games.

Only few had replay value.

-

He thought about saying something, but there wasn’t much to say.

It was his policy to not make something out of nothing. Grander, more general things, sure, he kept those ambitions. But, day-to-day, he learned it was better to go with the flow. You didn’t have disappointments if you didn’t expect much to begin with, so Yoongi didn’t expect much and let himself feel what he wanted to feel.

Like his hands on those thighs and pressing delicious legs to his chest as he sank in.

He tended to enjoy the fucking on top simply because it was easier for him. Most of the time, he didn’t feel much need to experiment or be creative. Most of the time, they weren’t worth it. Her? He fucked her in every position he could think of. This time, he felt the urge to fuck with most of his clothes on, with her holding up his shirt as he thrust into her on the edge of the bed. Not the most optimal position for maximum pleasure, but the arousal in the unnatural movement was enough to get him off.

Her too.

He could tell by the unforgiving clenching around his cock and the sopping wetness that was sticking to his balls, which was causing him to last minutes. You would think the human body would last longer if it felt better, so the pleasure could be felt more extensively, but his dick was much more interested in the instant gratification it was getting.

Oh, well.

He would have to fuck multiple times then, to prolong the pleasure.

She was the one to ask him first. Meeting without the false alibi of just happening to be at the same gathering at the same time. He went with the flow. Their fingertips touching. Her leaning in and kissing his collarbone, lips so soft that they made his nerves spark and muscles shiver, tilting his head back as her tongue traced a thin line upwards, wet heat against his pulse, her hand falling from his hand, tracing his neck.

“Choke me,” he whispered.

Yoongi liked doing things for the sheer curiosity of it.

She sucked on his ear when she choked him and electrified his whole body with lust, his hands finding her hips and slamming them down on his crotch, moaning into her ear shamelessly.

Yoongi knew he got himself into moments like this.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own.

His fingers buried into her wet, warm pussy and he inhaled, drinking in the sweet scent of her juices, in, out, so good, the feeling of power and pleasure at his fingertips, tactile and visceral and intense. Staring into those piercing eyes with one hand around his neck and the other around his hard cock, choking both until he came on her thigh and hip, but not before she came onto his fingers, pushing himself to the brink with his forearm vibrating. Ended up being sore the next day.

Worth it.

Yoongi told himself to do before getting carried away.

He was getting carried away, especially when he was alone.

His shaking breath, breathe in, breathe out, high on the bliss, their lips colliding, covered in each other, salty, sweet, sticky, closer but not, and it was nobody’s fault but his own, because he always thought about saying something, but didn’t.

There wasn’t much to say.

He looked into those eyes, and he didn’t want to say anything. Just wanted to appreciate their shape, their color, the feeling they gave him when he gazed into them, like he could live million lifetimes but recognize those eyes every time. A strange kind of familiarity that didn’t have an explanation. He had known Kim Seokjin for a while, but Seokjin was protective of his female friends, especially his most important one.

So, Yoongi stayed respectful until his brain started getting carried away because his dick wasn’t doing enough.

Well.

He tried.

-

“I gotta ask you something.”

“You can ask me after you press A, you dimwit.”

“I am pressing A. It’s lagging!” Seokjin growled, bopping you on the arm. You continued leaning against his broad shoulder as the Pokémon raid loaded up. “Are you dating Yoongi?”

“Mmm,” was your reply as you pressed the buttons in order. Battle, Swords Dance, on your Ceruledge. Had to get the setup going to do the most damage before your stats become nullified. The raids in Pokémon were meant to convince players to participate in online play, but math and logic could help you solo or duo them quite easily. You needed Seokjin there so you had one less idiot AI. In fact, Seokjin only purchased this generation of Pokémon to help you out in certain things. Raids and completing the Pokédex. He wasn’t as attached to the series as you were. He played so he could understand what you meant when referencing it, but he wasn’t that invested.

He was a good friend.

“Are you or not?”

“Don’t think it’s any of your business,” you responded absentmindedly, reaching over to command his statistically-perfect Arboliva that you gifted him for this very purpose to perform Helping Hand. You might as well have been doing this raid alone. Seokjin was basically simply a spare console accompanied by a warm body.

For now.

Kidding… unless?

Nah, he was too much fun to tease.

“It is my business. You’re my friend, he’s my friend and, if you two are dating, it’ll make the group all weird.”

“Your friend group is already all weird.”

Seokjin prodded you in the head as you selected Bitter Blade for your attack move. “Be serious.”

“Ask him.”

“I did. He said to ask you.”

“Huh.”

Silence.

“… I’ll kill him if he abandons you.”

You couldn’t pause the raid. It was timed and the raid Pokémon had to be defeated in that time, or you would get kicked out. You didn’t say anything. Just kept pressing buttons, turning automatic.

“Well, I won’t kill him. I’ll make Jungkook kill him.”

Reaching over Seokjin, who did nothing to help you. He just held the Switch as you selected the correct moves and thought about who you needed to raise next. Maybe a Gardevoir. You needed more special attackers to avoid Abilities like Cursed Body and the Burn status condition.

Seokjin was suddenly quiet.

“… You think he’d do that?” you finally said, not quite sure what you meant in asking that.

You felt a hand on your head, bringing you closer to broad shoulders and his game.

“I don’t know.”

One thing about Seokjin was that he always told the truth.

-

“Are you getting your dick wet or what?”

Yoongi blinked slowly.

“What?”

“Jimin, you can’t ask that,” Hoseok scolded, whacking Jimin’s chopsticks with his own to punish the younger male because the walking sunshine was too pure-hearted to physically strike Jimin. “Eat your food.”

Jimin thinned his plump lips and gave Yoongi the side eye instead of eating his meal like Hoseok told him to. “I think you are. I feel it.”

Yoongi made the executive decision to ignore Jimin and continue serving himself the soup, adding plenty of vegetables. “Hoseok, haven’t you been working a lot lately? You need to eat more meat. You’re getting too thin.”

“You sound like my parents, hyung,” Hoseok laughed jovially as Yoongi added extra slices of marinated beef onto his plate. “Thanks, thanks.”

“Don’t avoid the question,” Jimin continued, buzzing away like a determined bee.

“I get it wet every day. It’s called a shower.”

“You know what I mean.”

“And I answered you.”

Jimin squinted under his fluffy auburn locks. “You’re sussy.”

“Huh?” Hoseok blinked rapidly, cocking his head. “Sussy?”

“Suspicious. Taehyung taught me.”

Hoseok’s lips curled into a round ‘o’, seemingly filing away this new lingo. “Man, sometimes I feel so old around you and Taehyung even though I’m only a year older.” The bustling restaurant complimented his cheerful voice, warm smells and fragrant conversation mixing with the clinking of plates and glasses. He reached over the table, patting Yoongi on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re talking to someone though. I thought you were going to die alone.”

Those cat-like eyes shifted away.

“… Thanks.”

Nothing more.

“Uh oh, there’s trouble in paradise already.”

“Is something wrong?” Hoseok asked, frowning slightly at the older male’s reaction.

Yoongi sighed, and shook his head.

“It’s nothing. There’s not much to say about it.”

Hoseok caught on right away, nodding intently. “Right! Speaking of, Jimin, I heard you are leading a theater production all on your own.”

“A-Ah, just the choreography for the songs…” A small hand attempted to wave away Hoseok’s sudden unwavering excitement. “Really, it’s not that serious…”

“Yes, it is! A musical! With weeks and weeks of shows…!”

Yoongi avoided looking at his phone all night. He kept his eyes forward and focused on the conversation with his friends. If he didn’t, he would be stuck in his thoughts, wondering what all those nights really meant if all he had now was silence and a loveholic’s hangover he didn’t ask for.

-

“Oh, shit.”

Those were the first words you had spoken to a real, physical, in-the-flesh human being in a long time (Seokjin didn’t count). First words you had spoken all day, actually. Wait. Maybe you exclaimed out loud, you little fucker, get in the damn ball, earlier. Highly probable. No need to censor yourself when you were at home.

“You have left me on read for two weeks.”

“Oh… shit.”

After the shock had set in, the cold suddenly became apparent. It was winter, after all. Extra obvious by the snow on the ground and the big black parka the person outside your door was wearing, although the red flush around his neck and cheekbones was not from the icy breeze.

“Two weeks,” the man at your front door repeated with a growl, and he started advancing which, in most cases, would be a sign to call the police.

“Surely,” you sputtered, fumbling with your phone in your other hand, letting go of the knob because the screen was tab after open tab of various Pokédex entries of the Pokémon you were considering spending your previous in-game money on to make statistically perfect. Ahem, anyway, you hurriedly changed apps to your Messages app, your eyes widening as you saw the dates of your last messages.

Oh shit.

“Actually, it’s only been twelve days–”

“Twelve days of nothing,” he snapped, slamming closed your front door that you were honestly slightly grateful for. It was fuckin’ cold out there. “And what do I hear tonight? Just yesterday you were speaking to Jeon Jungkook on the phone.”

And, at this point, Min Yoongi got in your face.

You held your phone close to your purple sherpa pullover and stepped back as a stern, gracefully annoyed expression confronted you. Wild long black hair, furrowed eyebrows, and flashing dark eyes. Flushed pink lips twisted into irritation. Open jacket revealing his black sweater and light blue jeans, strange for such a cold night.

“Have you been drinking?” you observed, catching a whiff of his exhale.

“I’m not drunk,” Yoongi countered, backing up and scowling. “I was at Namjoon’s and then I remembered you lived nearby. So, I walked.”

“You… walked?”

“Yeah.”

You blinked slowly.

“Kim Namjoon… if you’re walking… that’s about an hour away….”

The scowl straightened out, leaving a stoic profile as Yoongi refused to look at you.

He grunted.

You were surprised.

“I… Jeon Jungkook called me.” You felt the sudden urge to fill the space of silence as the man before you kept his gaze at a firm ninety-degrees to the wall despite your face being right there. “He was worried about Seokjin, because he kept trying to call him. Seokjin had sent him a box of grapes from his uncle’s farm and Jungkook was trying to thank him via call because his mom told him he couldn’t simply text, but Seokjin wasn’t answering the calls and then Jungkook got worried so he called me since I have Seokjin’s family number but then I reminded Jungkook that that rich guy and his family went to a luxurious mountain resort to go skiing and wouldn’t be back until next weekend,” you finished in a jumbled mess of oversharing.

Silence.

You were highly aware that your Nintendo Switch was loudly playing the classic, cheery jingle of the Pokémon Center in your bedroom, echoing the bright notes throughout your apartment as, er, your possibly-soon-to-be-past fling? current interest? situation-ship? continued staring at the wall as if the paint was the one speaking to him.

To reiterate, you were surprised.

“I… I didn’t think you cared,” you explained, looking up at Yoongi.

He turned his head.

Looking down, black hair around his cheeks. Lashes lifting, slow motion, dark brown orbs raising, then the darkness was on you, and there was no anger, no malice, the heated air of his rash imposition fizzling out once your eyes connected.

His lips parted.

Nothing came out, as if he was about to say something emotional but then stopped himself. His brows knitted together, a moment of recollection, and then.

“Namjoon said I should be honest, so I’m here to tell you that you pissed me off by ignoring me,” he mumbled.

You blinked. Slowly, once again.

“O… Oh. I apologize.”

Silence except heartbeats.

Yoongi looked away.

You could piece the entire picture together now. Your eyes shifted, side to side, to his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, to the faint tint of pink around his ears and neck, to his relaxed shoulders and that tense heart, and you were surprised because Yoongi had always held himself with a devil-may-care attitude and straightforward bluntness. Not that you didn’t think there was more, but rather it seemed as if he didn’t want to address that under any circumstances and you had no need for more when you were your own happiness, and so you asked him another question.

“Is this you or the alcohol talking?”

Yoongi clicked his tongue and frowned, flickering glare meeting you. “Alcohol doesn’t make you a different person. I’m not someone else just because I had a few bottles with Namjoon. I have a high tolerance anyway.”

You smiled.

“I know. Wanted to make sure you were thinking the same thing I was.”

That was why Yoongi and you ended up in this situation. Because he seemed to always end up thinking the same thing you were. There wasn’t much discussion or mystery. There was you and there was him in the same place at the same time. Multiple times. Overlapping interests, but not all the same. Kept things interesting. Discovering you had the same core values and then the same kind of comfortable silence that turned into his hand on yours, experimental, are you thinking what I’m thinking, bodies closer, breath mixing, heads tilting, is it this?

Playing the game.

The Pokémon Center music faded out and then picked up again, always aggressively joyous, always ready to nurse your team back to full health.

You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly. “Hah… I’ve just… been playing the new Pokémon game came out recently, so I took time off to play it… thought I said…”

“You did say,” he interrupted.

Awkward pause.

“You did say,” and this time Yoongi sighed, suddenly smacking his palm into his forehead and rubbing it, mussing up his own hair. “You did say, and I believe everyone should enjoy something with the kind of passion you exhibit for your interests. I just wanted you to involve me even though I know nothing.”

You stared at him.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Why would I involve you in something you don’t care about?”

“I don’t care about it yet.”

“Why would you care about it?”

He flung his hand away from his face and scowled. “Are you an idiot?”

“Depends, are you confessing?”

Again, no one ever called you subtle.

Frigid embarrassment, and it wasn’t from you. Shocking. Suddenly your wall became irresistible to Yoongi’s eyeballs once more. You patiently waited.

“… No.”

“Ah. I see.”

You did see, straight through his bullshit.

Yoongi pursed his lips and gave you the side-eye. “I don’t want to play games.”

You shrugged. “Well, I do, because I’m a nerd, and I could make you a nerd too if you take off your shoes and come to the bedroom.” Chewed on your lip and felt that you should go back to being serious, at least for a moment. “I am sorry. I thought you would call me a kid, and I like you enough to not want you to be so ignorant, so I especially avoided speaking much about playing Pokémon. Honestly, I would rather hear you say that you don’t want to see me anymore than hear you talk shit about my cute pocket monster friends.”

Yoongi surprised you again.

He rolled his eyes.

“I don’t hate Pokémon. I used to watch the animation as a kid. I somewhat regret not being more into it, because then maybe you would have let me in a lot more if we had that common interest.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

“Putting your dick in my pussy is not letting you in a lot more?”

He raised an eyebrow back.

“You’re right. That was the alcohol talking,” he replied in a deadpan voice.

You smiled.

He smiled back. It did not seem like he wanted to and it did not seem like he could help himself either. What a predicament. You couldn’t relate.

“Do people like to tell you you’re difficult?” you asked with too much glee, unable to hide your amusement any longer.

The corner of his lips twitched. “All the fuckin’ time.”

You nodded knowingly. “Did you know we have that in common?”

He ticked his head at you, messy black hair over his cheeks and open-mouthed smirk. “Strangely enough, I seem to have learned that tonight.”

“I’m about to teach you a lot more, this time about Pokémon and not about how deep I can throat dick.”

“Consider giving me a supplemental lesson about the latter in the morning when I’m completely sober.”

“Hmm, I accept if can you listen without falling asleep.”

Yoongi eventually did fall asleep, but he did last three hours and retained most of the information in the morning despite being a drunk, ahem, not drunk (according to him) man confessing his feelings at your doorstep. In the future, once he had purchased his own game and was playing alongside you, he would insist that moment was not the one when he confessed, that he definitely confessed later (sober, mind you), and that he definitely did not purchase a Nintendo Switch and start studying the Pokédex more because of you (he had simply found the game a good way to wind down).

Games were just more fun to play now when he had a player two.

Yeah.

We know better.

--

masterpost

[carryingthebannershitposts]

Very genuinely important question

So, in a modern AU, I feel like all the Newsies would have drastically different music tastes from each other, and I have almost all of them figured out, but I need y'all to tell me if I'm right

Spot: Mother Mother, specifically both Haylofts and Burning Pile since he thinks it makes him look badass, but also he relates to a lot of the lyrics and likes to scream them. On the other side of things, he likes listening to egotistical songs (mostly from Bradways and shit) because they make him feel better about himself. (I give you as an example, What The World Needs from Ride The Cyclone. He loves RTC, Ocean is his favorite character. He hates her character arc tho.)

-

Race: Half Cavetown/Alex G/Will Wood, and other music artists that just make music for a living, half surprisingly upbeat songs, mostly from shows, games and movies, that for the most part aren't made to be listened to as much as he does. For example, No Girl's Toy from the Raggedy Ann/Andy movie had him in a chokehold for a little bit, same with the Cab Calloway version of St. James Infirmary Blues from Betty Boop's Snow White (Specifically JUST that version- he refuses to listen to the other ones). He is not allowed to have his playlist of shuffle in the lodging house because it'll skip right from the most depressing song you've ever heard to some random ass thing from the Cuphead soundtrack.

-

David: Doesn't listen to actual music with lyrics most of the time. No, he puts on that one 10 hour lo-fi compilation from Youtube. If he does want actual music though it's shit like MARINA and Melanie Martinez. Also, he LIVED AND BREATHED the Dear Evan Hansen soundtrack at one point. There's also a few songs he likes but he doesn't listen to anything else from the artist/source material, most notably Soldier, Poet, King and It's Not A Game/It's Just A Ride (After Spot forced everyone to watch RTC with him and Race).

-

Jack: COUNTRY MUSIC. But also, not actual country music. He likes the aethstetic (because cowboy) but can't stand the music, so he gets away with saying it's country music by listening to shit like I Love You Like An Alcoholic. He's gotten caught once listening to Hug All Ur Friends after Race recommended it, but he always used headphones after that. Also, being the tenor icon he is, he would be in choir and all his choir pieces (specifically the concerning sounding ones) are on his spotify playlist. (I raise you: A Silence Haunts Me. Look it up. Also, yes, as a Tenor who sang that piece with the choir I'm in, it's still in my playlist.)

-

Crutchie/Les: Grouped together because these two have the same music taste and share headphones a lot. It consists of AJR (They like the vibe of the music and both giggle quietly when it swears) The entire lion guard soundtrack, a bunch of Yaelokre songs and other fantasy-sounding stuff, and a bunch of My Little Pony (g4) songs.

-

Albert: Doesn't listen to as much music as the others, but he notably blasts the entire Hazbin Hotel soundtrack whenever he's watching the younger kids, very loudly yelling all the swears. He doesn't even watch Hazbin Hotel, he just does it to piss everyone off for fun. Jack hates this but can't really do anything about it.

[arielstruggles]

Random Joel Miller thoughts /HCs

WARNING: CONTAINS ADULT CONTENT.

a/n: this is obviously in a non-outbreak au. Joel is like in his late forties. This is specifically for hbo Joel, i have different hcs for game joel.

He is a boobs man, he loves 'em can't help it, he likes ass too but boobs... those are his favorite. He grabs them, pinches them maybe licks who knows. His favorite is burying his face between your boobs though.

He might be a little jealous but not in a toxic like it is not his whole personality. It's just because he is insecure. He thinks you might leave him for another dude who is younger, richer, funnier etc. He is so used to be alone, raising his child as a single dad that he is not sure what is the 'right' thing to do while dating.

He loves you so much and act of service his love language. You need a plumber? Call Joel Miller. You need to fix the door handle? Joel is on his way. He does not say that he loves you all the time but these small things show it. Oh, also he brings you flowers?! not so often but he does!

He shits your music taste. It is a struggle to convince him to listen pop music or anything you like in general but once you manage to convince him he really enjoys it, does not accept that tho.

Most of the time, he remembers important dates and gets you small but meaningful gifts. However, there are times that he forgets. You try not to make a big deal of it even if it kinda makes you sad which makes him feel guiltier than ever. "My sweet angel, don't do this, please i want to see those pretty lips of yours smile"

He is not the most passionate advocate of being all lovey dovey in public. He holds your hand, maybe kiss you occasionally -not often- . But when you are alone... He is one step away from worshipping you.

He lovesss making you laugh and giggle. Often times makes the most corniest jokes to see you laughing and yelling 'ewwww Joelll!'

I don't think he is that much into BDSM. Maybe lightly chocking or bondage sometimes and maybe smacks on your butt but not too much. He is an affectionate guy. That does not mean he's not dominant though he has his moments and in those moments, things get spicier than usual that you have hard time walking afterwards.

He's definitely a switch. When he is in a bad mood or simply just when wants to be taken care of, he lets you to ride him, give him a head, take the lead. He is kinda shy asking you to take care of him because he does not want to seem weak or like unable to satisfy your needs but it is his insecurities speaking, not the truth.

Favorite position is missionary, enjoys reverse cowgirl and doggy too. In reverse cowgirl he grabs your ass so hard that it leaves a mark. In doggy he most definitely plays with your tits.

Breeding kink go brr

Not the biggest fan of pet names but he uses them. His favorites are my sweet angel, honey and baby.

Sometimes he comes early, sorry but like he is old.

%100 Into aftercare. He takes you to the bathroom, cleans you up and when you chill in the warm water in the bathtub he changes the sheets.

Ok that's it. For now.

[itjazzbicch]

Remember Me

Pairing:  Portgas D. Ace x Strawhat!Fem Reader 

First time writing for Ace so I hope I did well! 

Summary: Not wanting to part ways with Ace once he returns from another adventure, the reader is destined to convince him to stay after connecting deeply with him, and since Ace plans to leave once again, he gives the reader something to remember him by...

Warnings:  SMUT! (18+ ONLY! MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!) (Oral F receiving, facesitting, spanking, hair pulling, swearing, unprotected sex)

Word Count: 1.3k 

“Do you really have to go again?”

Giving puppy dog eyes, I truly didn’t want Ace to leave. Ever since we first met, there was an instant connection between us.

Sitting up on deck with the sun setting against the sea, I was trying to convince him once again, to stay with us.

“What? You gonna miss me?” Of course, he was trying to tease me, but I answered honestly, nodding my head:

“A lot. I understand you’re a part of White Beards crew, but having you here with us just feels right.”

“Aww,” He smiled with a chuckle, joking with me more, “You can always come with me, ya know.”

“But-“ Looking down and seeing Zoro and Chopper asleep, Luffy and Usopp getting yelled at by Sanji, and Nami staring at them all in disappointment, there’s no way I could ever leave them.

“You don’t gotta answer, I already know,” He sighed, bringing my eyes back to his when he put his hat on my head, smiling, “But I can give you something to remember me by before I leave tomorrow.”

“Oh?” I loved how perfectly his hat sat on my head, learning what he was going to give me as he leaned down, lips meeting softly.

I didn’t think I could fall any further than I have for him, but his kiss topped the cake, naturally resting against him, a small tilt letting my tongue slip in and imprinting the taste in my memory.

“Better watch kissing me like that,” He teased, tongue fighting with mine, “I’m already fired up just seeing you in that bikini with my hat on.”

“What? Like this?” Swirling my tongue, pushing down his throat a little made his hand take all the meat on my hip, growling while biting my lower lip:

“We better take this somewhere else.”

Looking at the rest of the crew, the door that leads down to our rooms was out of sight, taking his hand and rushing over:

“Better move quick then.”

Running down to my room with giggles, I squealed when he yanked me into his arms, kicked the door shut, and dropped right to the bed.

I laughed more at how hard we bounced, falling back with his lips smacking into mine again.

As much as I was enjoying myself, all of this made the desire for him not to leave even stronger, pouting in my kiss:

“You sure you still wanna leave?”

“Sorry baby, I gotta,” Having no patience, his hands were all over me, tearing my bikini away string by string, a dirty smirk on my face, “But after this, you’ll want to come along.”

“You talk a big game, ya know?”

It’d take a lot to make me leave the straw hats and the look he gave almost made me believe I would, completely naked under him, following when he fell on his back, chuckling:

“Just don’t get all pouty again when I’m telling you, I told you so.”

Fixing myself on top of him, I held onto his hat I was still wearing, squealing at how effortlessly he picked me up by the thighs, hovering above his face.

“Enough talkin’. Put that pussy on my face.”

“Ace-“ My hand slide through his hair, gripping tightly when he pulled me down, thighs smothering him, but his mouth working like it was nothing, sucking the life out of me through my clit.

It didn’t take much for me to need the bed frame to cling to, hips shaking, carefully rolling forward, his tongue licking every part of skin, darting into me.

“You little shit,” I jokingly cursed, moaning and crumbling against the bed frame, jolting up straight from his chuckle, adding a spank to my ass.

“And you like it,” My thighs couldn’t hide that devilish smile of his, seeing the rush he was getting through his eyes, “Fuck, you look so hot with my hat on up there. Keep riding my face, baby.”

Sucking on my clit even harder, I did just that, rolling quicker and quicker, feeling the heat in my stomach that was making me crumble.

“Damn it!” I was starting to fall forward, hips buckling on me, so he latched his arms around my thighs, rocking them for me.

“You got it, girl,” He mumbled, rolling my clit over his swirling tongue, pushing me closer.

“Yeah-ah!” Biting my lips and holding tighter, I let him push me over, whistling through my teeth, “Like that, Ace! I’m cumin!”

Burying his face between my thighs, taking all of me and every drop of warm slick drenching his mouth and chin, humming while licking me clean.

“That’s my girl,” Carefully guiding me to my back, his lips and chin were glistening, enjoying how he nearly had me tired out, “You can go more than one round, can’t ya?”

“Can you?” I giggled, more relaxed and spreading for him, nearly drooling at his physique, his cock twitching at my invitation.

“Wanna go all night, huh?” Kissing all over my breasts and fixing his cock against me, his little snicker was so sexy flowing into my ear, “Better believe I can.”

“Shit,” I didn’t know what it was about him that had me so sensitive and submissive under him, just the tip of his cock pushing into me had me feeling like just that could make me crazy.

He talked a big game, but had everything and then some to back it up, wasting no time to make a mess of me, making me cum back to back just with missionary.

After so long, I was panting and whining with sweat running down my temple.

With what little light beamed down by the door, the sun was down and we had no clue how long we’d been in bed.

“Still think you can go all night?” Cock buried deep in me, he gave me a moment to gather myself, rolling out soft thrusts.

“I don’t wanna stop,” I panted, whining at how hard I was still squeezing him when he pulled out, wanting something special out of me while guiding me over to my hands and knees.

“Show me what you got,” He kissed down my back, leaving a bite on my ass before resting back on his heels, smacking the tip of his cock against me, “Give me a good one, baby.”

“That what you want?” Arching my back and finding the right angle, I threw myself back onto his cock, both of us moaning at how tight and deep I took him.

“Fuck yeah,” He huffed, looking back to see him biting his lip, spanking me softly, “Throw it back just like that.”

“Just like that?” Taking a breath and doing it again had him hissing, my head snapping back with moans the quicker I moved, his tip smacking a spot so deep that I buried my face in a pillow to scream, but not daring to stop.

“Yeah, baby,” Not caring about how loud his moan was, he sat up further to pin his hips to my ass, taking my hair trailing out of his hat to grip onto, keeping me on his every inch, “Faster, baby, faster.”

Clinging to the edge of the bed, I threw myself back as quick as I could, moans flying free with his hand pulling my head back further, the shake of the bed rough on my hips, another pool of heat burning me up from my scalp to my toes.

“Ace!” With my eyes rolling back, my body slowly started to break down, pushing through this last race of pressure coming down on me, “C-Cuming, again! I’m cuming!”

“Ngh! G-God, dammit,” Matching my pace and throwing his hips, I instantly squelched all of his cock, drenching his thighs.

Latching to my hips with both hands, I could feel how he was shaking, cock throbbing against my walls death grip.

“Ah fuck, I’m cuming too, fuck!” Gripping onto my thighs, he just barely pulled out before dreaming all over my ass, resting above me with heavy pants.

“God, it’s hot,” I huffed, finally letting my hips fall to the bed, smiling at the kiss on my cheek:

“Didn’t burn you up too much, did I?”

“Nuh-uh,” I smiled, turning my head to kiss, “You believe I can handle the heat, now?” 

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